tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54001472293985307722024-03-06T21:00:38.283+01:00La vie de Clara Oor the Chronicles of Clara O's Life Adventures...Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.comBlogger95125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-8047082404211627902016-01-06T11:03:00.001+01:002016-01-06T11:34:48.820+01:00(try!)To-do List 2016 :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Happy New Year! E ku Odun Tuntun! Bonne An<span class="st">neé</span>! Frohes Neues jahr! Buon Anno! </div>
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May your 2016 be full of only good things. </div>
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So, blogging kind of fizzled out for me towards the end of last year, as I became busier and busier with work and life in general. I currently have two part-time jobs, and at the time of signing the contracts, thought only about the positives, i.e. the chance to explore two very different work environments. Since then, I have had to re-think my decision as I gradually began to realise that two part-time positions doth not one full-time job make! Instead, I feel like I have at least 1.5jobs, and I'm struggling with keeping up with both places, as well as doing my usual gallivanting around Europe. In the light of this, I've been thinking about making 2016 the year of lying low in Brussels and picking up other more...non-nomadic habits. Still for some reason, I'm super excited about this year! </div>
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Anyway, as is traditionally the case every year, I have thought about and decided on this year's (much shorter) new year's resolutions. I know many people make fun of these, but I find them very helpful because as a bona fide list-checker, I am motivated by the pleasure I get whenever I can cross something off my list. Looking at last year's list, the major seemingly impossible goal was learning German and reaching a certain level before the end of the year. I somehow managed to do it, and it has both given me the skills I need, as well as inspired me to pick up Italian again. So, without further ado, I present my 2016 new year's resolutions. </div>
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<li><i><b>Learn Italian, get the CELI4 certificate by November</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Improve German</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Read 24books this year in Italian and German</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Make more of an effort with my appearance</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Take care of health: exercise, healthy diet, drink 2L water daily, good sleep routine 7-8hrs daily</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Give up fizzy drinks except for the rare beer </b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Clear face</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Finish paying student loans</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Start MPH</b></i></li>
<li><i><b>Put up 52 blogposts </b></i></li>
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Will I attain every goal on the list? That remains to be seen. In the meantime, putting them up on the blog makes me feel more
accountable, and I'm also hoping I'll get the same amount of support and
encouragement as I did last year. So are you a resolution maker? What are your plans for this year? Please share!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-6915626404789150982015-12-10T09:28:00.000+01:002015-12-10T09:28:00.080+01:00Clara's Travel Tales: The Christmas Edition and Conclusive Post<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Hello everyone, happy December. Can you believe it's now only just over two weeks until Christmas?!?! As for me, I'm enjoying the chocolatey countdown this year with my first ever advent calendar from the mother-in-law. Advent isn't a big deal in Nigeria or England, but it is HUGE in Germany, and I get to celebrate it like the Germans now, thanks to the boy's family. This for me, is one of the best things about having a multicultural lifestyle. Honestly, l</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">iving as an expat, being from two countries and dating a guy from yet another country/culture </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">has </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">greatly</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">enriched my</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">life. </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Anyway all that sugar has inspired me to write a short post about three of the important Christmasy feast days celebrated in Europe, which are not really big in either of my two home countries.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="color: black;">First there's </span></span><span style="color: black;">Saint Nicholas which is celebrated in Belgium, the Netherlands, Germany and a few other countries</span><span style="color: black;">. According to Wikipedia, </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><b>"Saint Nicholas' Day</b>, observed on December 6 (in Western Christian countries) and 19 December (in Eastern Christian countries), is the feast day of Saint Nicholas.</i></span><i style="font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> It is celebrated as a Christian festival with particular regard to his reputation as a bringer of gifts. In Germany and Poland, boys would dress as bishops begging alms for the poor, while in Ukraine, children wait for St. Nicholas to come and to put a present under their pillows provided that the children were good during the year. Children who behaved badly may expect to find a twig or a piece of coal under their pillows. </i></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><i><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">The American </span>Santa Claus<span style="line-height: 22.4px;">, as well as the British </span>Father Christmas<span style="line-height: 22.4px;">, derive from Saint Nicholas. "Santa Claus" is itself derived in part from the Dutch </span>Sinterklaas<span style="line-height: 22.4px;">, the saint's name in that language. However the gift giving associated with these descendant figures is associated with </span>Christmas Day<span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> rather than Saint Nicholas Day itself."</span></i></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">Then there's advent which as the name implies, celebrates the advent and anticipation of Jesus' birth. A sort of countdown to Christmas, it begins on the 4th Sunday before, and continues all the way to the 24th of December. It is usually celebrated with the lighting of advent Candles each Sunday, as well as a special Calendar with windows, which are opened each day and which contain little presents or sweets.</span><br />
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My first ever advent calendar!</div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;">And finally, Epiphany feted on the 6th of January, which marks the visit of the three wise men to the baby Jesus. Again Wiki to the rescue for a more detailed explanation. </span></div>
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<span style="color: #252525; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 22.4px; text-align: start;">"</span><span style="color: #252525; line-height: 22.4px; text-align: start;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><i>In the Netherlands, Belgium, Luxembourg and neighbouring Germany, children in groups of three (symbolising the three kings) proceed in costume from house to house while singing songs typical for the occasion, and receiving a coin or some sweets at each door. </i></span></span></div>
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<i><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">In Belgium people eat the</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">galette des Rois,</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> a round, flat, and golden cake made with flake pastry and often filled with</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">frangipane</span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">, fruit, or chocolate. The</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> </span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">cake</span></span><span style="color: #252525;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> usually </span></span><span style="line-height: 22.4px;">containing</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="line-height: 22.4px;"> a charm (a porcelain or plastic figurine, called a</span></span></span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">fève</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">(</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">bean</span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> </span><span style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;">in French))</span></i><i style="color: #252525; font-family: inherit; line-height: 22.4px;"> is cut by the youngest (and therefore most innocent) person at the table to assure that the recipient of the bean is random. The person who gets the piece of cake with the trinket becomes "king" or "queen" and wears a paper crown provided with the cake. This person has a choice between offering a beverage to everyone around the table (usually a sparkling wine or champagne), or volunteering to host the next king cake at their home. This can extend the festivities through all of January!"</i></div>
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<span style="color: black;">As you can see the children in these countries have it made, they can rake in the goodies from all these fetes, as well as from good old Santa Claus. The parents on the other hand, not so much! </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">Now imagine being a half British-Nigerian</span><span style="color: black;">,</span><span style="font-family: inherit;"> half German child growing up in Belgium with long-distance but </span><span style="color: black;">involved and </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">loving </span><span style="color: black;">grandparents, with all those feast days. T</span><span style="font-family: inherit;">hat particular child has hit the presents-jackpot niyen! </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This post brings me to the end of the </span><span style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">15-for-15 Challenge and thankfully it's a far cheerier one than my last update. It's also a fitting topic with which to close the year. I am so happy I decided to participate in the process, because it kept me blogging and kept my blog alive. I am also proud of myself for making it all the way to the end, especially because I had periods where I was particularly stressed in my normal life and struggled to keep up. So I'd like to thank <a href="http://www.janylbenylshares.com/2015/12/15-for-15-challenge-update.html#more" target="_blank">Janyl</a> for the idea, <a href="http://duruadolphusjnr.blogspot.cz/" target="_blank">Duru</a>, <a href="http://pynk360.com/" target="_blank">Oyinda</a> </span></span><span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">and all my other readers who encouraged and cajoled me to keep going, and everyone who supported by reading and/or leaving comments. Sometimes I was too busy/stressed to respond, but I loved having that interaction with my readers. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit; text-align: left;">There will likely be at least one more post before the end of the year, but just in case life happens and I don't get round to posting again, I'd like to wish everyone a wonderful holiday season. Have a merry Christmas, and a happy new year. May all your wishes come true in 2016! </span></div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-16647737398955004772015-12-04T08:14:00.000+01:002015-12-04T09:37:09.275+01:00Clara's Travel Tales: The November Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">This month's edition isn't very cheery, but the world seems to be going to hell in a hand-basket, so I have no choice but to be real and write about current </span><span style="font-family: inherit;">affairs.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">So three</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;"> Fridays ago, my sister was supposed to go to Paris to give a talk at a conference as part of her PhD work, but she decided at the last minute to go on the </span>Saturday<span style="font-family: inherit;"> because for some weird reason, she didn't feel like staying for two nights. Thank God, because the Paris attacks happened that same Friday and she was luckily still in England and therefore protected from the danger. Not knowing that she'd changed her plans, I woke up Saturday morning at 5am for work and saw the tweets about attacks on Paris. You can imagine how scared and worried I was when I got to work and and got more information from the news. I immediately started calling my sister and my parents repeatedly, then not getting through to either party, called T and told him to keep trying. I only calmed down when he told me he'd spoken to my sister and that she was only leaving for Paris that morning. </span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">One week later, in</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> this climate of fear and uncertainty,</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">I took the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">very early 6.25am </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">train</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> to Cologne to see the </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">parents-i</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">n-l</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">aw as planned. H</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">owever, h</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">aving left the house at 6am without checking news, I was completely unaware of the fact that Brussels had been effectively shut down </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">because of serious </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">threats of terrorist attacks. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">I arrived in Cologne as planned and spent the day having fun and hanging out with <a href="http://blog.ediyemade.com/" target="_blank">J</a> without realising that my phone (which wasn't online) was going off with messages and calls from my family and friends. Everyone was worried about me especially because I wasn't responding, and because no one knew where I was (I had forgotten to tell my family I was travelling<img alt="🙈" class="CToWUd" goomoji="1f648" src="https://mail.google.com/mail/e/1f648" style="margin: 0px 0.2ex; max-height: 24px; vertical-align: middle;" />). </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">In the end I went home to T's parents who told me they'd also been worried about me and that they'd even wondered if I'd be able to come after all. I had a lovely time as usual, spending the weekend alternating between sleeping, eating good food and (window)shopping. I also got my first advent's calendar, chose my own Christmas present and </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">got to see the first snow of the season. After such a wonderful weekend, on Monday, it was time to decide if and when I'd</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> be going back to Brussels. </span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">My mum wanted me to stay until Brussels was safe, and so did T's</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> parents who even offered to buy me a new ticket. I was tempted too, but I knew I'd have to go back to Brussels soon, especially since I was already scheduled to fly on the Friday to Prague for T's birthday. The Belgian authorities didn't make the decision easy either, because they kept giving updates that contained no new information. In the end I stayed glued to the TV, watching until the last minute possible, trying to get to some </span><span style="color: black; font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: white;">sort of </span>decision<span style="background-color: white;">. Around 4pm, they gave an update which stated that the city would remain at high alert for another week, and seeing that I couldn't stay in Germany for that long, I decided to take the plunge and go back home. A</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">t Euskirchen a man got on the train, left his bag on one of the seats and walked away for about 5minutes, during which time all manner of thoughts had gone through my head!</span><span style="background-color: white; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Then once in Cologne, the Thalys</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> (normally </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">almost always late)</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> arrives 15mins </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">early, </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">everyone gets on and we leave on time! Apart from being the only girl in my entire carriage, the journey itself was uneventful journey until we got to the eerily empty Brussels Midi station. No metros and none of my buses were running, all the taxis had been taken, and they were heavily armed police everywhere. I even saw an army tank on the streets</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> of Brussels!!! In the end I walked the 20mins home with my many bags, all the while bitterly cursing the terrorists for making my life stressful.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">Once home, the alert level remained at the highest level of 4 for a few more days with disruptions to public transport, and schools/universities/some businesses closed until Thursday when they finally brought</span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;"> it down</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> to a 3. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">The next day when I got to the smaller, usually-very-busy-on-Fridays airport, it was empty. Now I'm not sure if this was linked to the threats or not, but I personally found it weird. </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">In </span>Prague<span style="font-family: inherit;"> we were </span>received<span style="font-family: inherit;"> by (friendly) police officers who checked our passports. It made me wonder if the internal borders were slowly being brought back into the Schengen area...? Hopefully not! </span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">And this weekend, I found out that </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">my</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> friends </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">who </span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">were supposed to visit this week from Paris </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black; font-family: inherit;">have decided to</span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> </span><span style="background-color: white; color: black;"><span style="font-family: inherit;">cancel </span>their<span style="font-family: inherit;"> plans</span></span><span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"> because of the attacks and threats. It made me really sad because of course this means I have to wait a while longer before seeing my friends. It also makes me very angry, because apart from killing people and sowing fear and mistrust among them, the terrorists also seem to be winning by limiting our freedom and taking away our civil liberties.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;">Anyways I think I'll stop here before I start ranting. Here are a few pictures to lighten the mood, they were all taken during this month's travels...</span><br />
<span style="background-color: white; color: #222222; font-family: inherit;"><br /></span></div>
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The lovely J!</div>
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Watching snow fall from the comfort of a warm room</div>
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<br /></div>
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A weekend of good food; celebrating the boy's birthday in Prague</div>
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The best Mexican food I've ever had</div>
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This Italian restaurant was pretty good too</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-53682939595913781702015-11-10T07:30:00.000+01:002015-11-10T08:15:39.996+01:00Clara's Travel Tales: The Belgrade Edition 2<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Later
we went out and had a lovely time sightseeing, until late in the
evening when she
mentioned that she still didn't know what time she was starting work the
next day and needed to text her "stupid" boss. Seeing that she was
getting stressed because she found out she had no more credit, and
trying to protect myself by sidestepping any more crises/outbursts, I
offered my phone (even though I knew it would cost me loads, Serbia
being outside the EU). She immediately turned to me and said it was her
life and I should please stop trying to control her. Seeing a repeat of
the previous incidences on the horizon, I beat a hasty retreat and said I
was sorry, but it was apparently too late! She started going on about
how again my life wasn't a real life, I tried to hard to control
everyone, was judgemental, stupid and a lousy guest. The last one was
particularly shocking to hear because on the way, she'd told me how she
thought I was really modest and easy to host because I wanted nothing,
and that she was so happy I'd come because she'd been so lonely and my
visit her made her house a home. I was so upset that I made the terrible
mistake of telling her I'd leave her to calm down. Crying, I walked a
few steps ahead and found a bench to sit down then a few minutes later,
looked up to see that she was gone! </div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Homeless, and later at the colourful reception of my hostel</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
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My
first thought was that she'd
just gone to buy credit, because I honestly couldn't fathom her leaving
me there just like that. Initially I looked everywhere for her and
tried to call multiple times, then calmly found myself a bench and
began to read, until with the passing hours, it slowly dawned on me that
my friend had truly abandoned me in a park in the middle of Belgrade.
Here I was in a huge place (the old city), lost, with no internet
connection and no idea of how to get home. I tried calling again several
times and sending messages, but she'd turned off her phone. As the time
went on, I became more and more worried (also about her because I was
sure something bad had happened. She surely couldn't have abandoned me
like
that!). I thought about calling my Instagram friend but didn't want to
bother
them, so I called T without telling him my predicament, and hearing his
voice calmed me enough to gather myself together and find a solution.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
Thank God my
guardian angel was awake as usual, because I heard 2 boys; a Serbian
with his Somalian (Somali!) friend, speaking English. I went up to them and explained my
situation and as luck would have it, one of them worked at a
hostel which he called, arranged a room and directed me to even though
it was his day off! Thank God I always have some cash as well as my
passport on me in strange countries!!! Thankful, I set
about finding the hotel even though I knew it would be a challenge with
the street names being written in the Cyrillic alphabet. Still thanks
to the kindness and great English skill of the Serbians, I was able to find my
way after only one or two wrong turns. </div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
Side-note, I have a
"bad" habit of carrying my passport, tickets/boarding passes and a
certain amount of cash with me whenever I'm in a foreign country. I
sometimes worry about things getting lost/stolen, but my theory is that
one must always have the minimum required to get the hell out of any
country in case of trouble. For the first time in my life, I
can say that my obsessiveness paid off, as thanks to having my ID and
some cash, I was able to pay for one night's accommodation.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
Imagine my surprise
when with WiFi I finally send my friend a message on Facebook telling
her where I was and begging her to kindly bring my luggage to town with
her the next day (she lives outside Belgrade but was scheduled to work
the next day), only for her to reply saying that she wouldn't. She said
it my responsibility as an adult to sort that out myself, and that she
didn't like me as a person. Then added that I should come get my stuff
from her place at 9am the next day, without giving me the address. In spite of several
phone calls and further texts/facebook messages, she ignored me and then in
the morning finally replied with a one line message giving me her
address and the bus number with no further directions.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
Thank God for the
kind Serbians who decided to look after me, starting from the bus
drivers who refused my payments to the one who tried to call my friend
with his own phone. The elderly women who tried to help me, and being unable
to speak English, found a younger woman who in turn left her baby at
home with her mum and drove me round Umka asking people for my friend
and eventually through lots of Facebook sleuthing (turning on her data and spending money on me!) led us to her. Even
though I didn't tell anyone the events of the night before, they all
found it really strange that she'd asked me, a foreigner, to come to her
place but wasn't answering her phone.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
When
I finally got there, she'd packed my stuff and left it at the gate,
even giving me back the present I brought for her. She sat at the door
in the sun, wearing her coat all buttoned up in 30°C weather. The whole
set-up felt so bizarre that I actually felt some pity for her,
especially because she looked so alone and terrified. I sha picked up my
stuff and said goodbye, but she couldn't bring herself to even look at
me or respond. After
getting back to my hostel, I decided to contact her on Facebook again
because everything was so weird, but she'd either deleted me or her
account. Either way I had/have no more contact with her, which is sad
because I'm worried about her, and also more practically because as a
result of her not letting me past the gate, I left my lovely jacket
there. I still honestly don't
understand what happened, because all that set off the last "fight" was
me offering her my phone. Was that really such a horrible controlling
thing
to do? I don't know... At the moment, all I feel is an overwhelming
sense of confusion, tinged with sadness at the double loss of my friend.
One because she's change so irrevocably, and also because this is
clearly the end of what had been a long and wonderful friendship.</div>
</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<div dir="ltr">
Oh and not to end
this on a negative note, Belgrade is incredibly beautiful and the people
so warm and friendly that I felt I was in Nigeria, sometimes! And
for the first time ever, I got to use my German in a new context. On my
way back to Belgrade after picking up my stuff, I met an elderly man
at the bus stop. He was rather curious about me, but we couldn't
converse because he spoke no English and my Serbian is currently sadly
only limited to thank you, yes and ok. He kept trying though, until
frustrated, a German word slipped out! He had in fact travelled a lot
around Europe and even worked in Germany for 15 or 50years (the exact
figure was lost in translation). And he was so pleased to hear I spoke
German that he chatted with me all the way back, pointed out many
important landmarks, and went out of his way to show me my hostel. Just
amazing! The chance to "meet" new people and create human connections is
really why I enjoy learning languages.</div>
</div>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-81566201043299074142015-11-10T07:13:00.000+01:002015-11-10T08:16:23.917+01:00Clara's Travel Tales: The Belgrade Edition 1<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">I wrote
this about 6weeks ago, while I was gallivanting around Eastern
Europe, so the political landscape might have changed since then... I
spent about 10days in Serbia and Hungary, and as usual had some
pretty weird things happen to me. I thought it'd make more sense to
make it into a 3-part account, so anyway here's the second one.
Enjoy.</span></div>
<div align="center" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">*** </span>
</div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">I wanted to
go somewhere cool to celebrate writing my German exams, so I decided,
having exchanged a few emails with one of my oldest friends from
Paris who had returned to her home country of Serbia, to visit
Belgrade. I really wanted to see her again as we'd been quite close
in Paris, and it is easier for me to go than it is for her to come to
me (I don't need a visa/other financial considerations etc.), we
decided that I'd do the travelling.</span><br />
.</div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">A few days
before my trip, I heard about the main train station in Budapest
closing (yes the very same one from which I was supposed to travel to
Belgrade) because of the refugee crisis, and with every new report I
saw, things seemed to be deteriorating rapidly along the
Hungary/Serbia border. I became a bit worried about having to deal
with the situation, and wondered if it would even be possible for me
to travel, but you know I like living on the edge, so I decided to
continue with my plans. I checked in and printed my boarding passes
only to discover that I had spelt my own name wrong while booking!
The ticket cost only 55€, but I found out that it would cost £110
(almost 140€!) to sort out the problem. I was so upset that I
almost cancelled the entire trip, because I felt everything happening
was probably a sign that I should stay home. However, thinking of all
the money I'd already spent made me decide to try one last thing and
look online for how my fellow silly travellers had solved the
problem. Luckily I found a blog where someone advised I contact
Ryanair on twitter, as apparently contacting them on social media
makes them respond faster. Anyway I did that, and it was just as I
was told, with the extra benefit of them resolving the problem for
free. Happy at this wonderful turn of events, I decided I was going
to have a lovely time with my friend and enjoy my holiday to the
maximum, as I knew I probably wouldn't be visiting any more "exotic"
locations this year. Little did I know what was to come...</span><br />
.</div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">Ok, so let
me start with the good. The weather, amazing! It was almost always
around the 30°C mark and sunny, a real treat and a change from the
Brussels I'd left behind. Other good things include meeting my
Instagram friend and her family, the friendly helpful people and of
course their beautiful </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">city.</span></div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="color: black;">The good; friends, fun and beautiful architecture</span></div>
<span style="color: black;"> </span><br />
<span style="color: black;">
The
bad was the constant staring. Although it wasn't hostile at all and
seemed more from curiosity than anything else, it still felt a
bit uncomfortable. Sometimes, one just wants to blend in with the
crowd ya know? Yeah that wasn't too possible in this case. In fact I
stood out like a sore thumb, but my "exoticness" helped me
later on, so I guess I shouldn't complain too much! </span>
</div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;"><br />
Now
to the downright ugly.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
.</div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">Right from
the first day, I noticed my friend seemed different. She repeatedly
apologised about how everything was so "third-worldly", talked
about how everyone were peasants and basically slagged off the
country. I found the new M very difficult to handle because she
seemed so hard and judgemental.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Anyway the
problem really started on the second day when I met the friend from
Instagram. M had instructed my friend to bring me back by 7pm, but we
got lost and ended up arriving about 10mins later (actually 7mins, I
checked) and she was so upset! She said lots of horrible things about
my friend and her family, that they were stupid peasants, a family
made of a controlling husband, a depressed mother and a spoilt child.
I was shocked because she'd only met them for 5minutes and I though
her reaction was a bit exaggerated! She later apologised though, and
told me she'd been upset because she thought I'd been kidnapped and
trafficked to Albania and then Italy. I again found this extremely
weird, but also a bit sweet when idiot that I am, I should have seen
the signs.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">A little
later on the bus back home, I randomly said something about hoping I
could talk to T before he went to bed, without keeping him up too
late. Imagine my surprise when she went off on me, telling me that
what T and I have is an unhealthy relationship. She said we had a bad
mutual mother-child dependence thing going on, and then basically
talked rubbish about us being together! I found it so strange and
upsetting that I shut up (and down) from the stress of it all. In any
case, I didn't want to bring even more attention to myself on the
bus, because people were already staring at me and that only worsened
when M started shouting at me on the bus.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<br /></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;">Later,
still hurt by what I felt was an unjust and uncalled for assault on
me and my relationship, I excused myself politely and told her
I was tired and needed to sleep. Once I got into the room, I called T
because I needed to talk to someone, plus I really needed to calm
down a bit. Anyway just after our conversation she came into the
room, ostensibly to apologise, and asked me what had been said (T had
asked me to ask her if she knew the few Serbian words he knew).
I replied jokingly that he was showing off with the words he'd learnt
from an old friend, however she seized on one of my phrases and said
I was always talking about the same thing, completely bizarre and
untrue because this was the first time anything like this
conversation ever came up!</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;"><br />
She
said I was obsessed and that my life was not a life at all, I was
living in a fairytale make-believe world. Then went on to add that I
was judgemental and unfair and wicked. To top it all, she said T was
only a boyfriend temporarily, and that things would soon change! The
cherry on the cake was when she started talked badly about my family;
my mum, my sisters (she was friends with them too!), and even my
lovely MIL, no one was safe from her verbal attack. Again, to say I
was flabbergasted would be understating the point. I had (still don't
understand even after lots of reflection) no clue why she'd be so
vehement and venomous about such a banal comment. It was all so
strange, especially because she kept "advising" me on how
to have a better non-dependant relationship! I tried to tell her in a
diplomatic way that it was none of her business, by repeatedly saying
"that's your opinion, and I understand, but don't necessarily
agree with you". Yes I am British and that how we disagree. In
the end she said she couldn't bear talking to or even looking at me
any more, and went off in a sulk into the other room to sleep.
Confused at the events of the last couple of days, and shocked at the
new M, I was sleepless until the early hours of the morning.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<br />
<span style="color: black;">Day 3, I
got up and stayed in the room because I was tired and to be honest
wasn't sure how to deal with this new persona. Imagine my surprise
when she came to me and started apologising! She said she was sorry
for being a Jekyll and Hyde, and said she was stressed because her
life was in flux after all the therapy she'd had in the last 2years.
Said she'd always been too sensitive (she was indeed a lovely
sensitive person when I knew her!) and that she'd now unfortunately
gone too far the other way and needed to find the right balance. She
then thanked me for helping her see how she'd started according to
her, "losing her humanity", and begged me to forgive her.
Finally she told me all the mean things she'd said to me were
actually directed at herself. I still felt very upset, but forgave
her even though I privately thought it was a bit much that she kept
saying she'd never forgive herself.</span></div>
<div align="justify" lang="en-GB-oed">
<span style="color: black;"><br />
***This
is getting a bit long so I think I'll break it up into 2parts :) </span>
</div>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-8701178157101332102015-10-24T08:56:00.000+02:002015-10-24T17:10:43.457+02:00Clara's Travel Tales: Travelling in Times of Crisis<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I wrote this about 6weeks ago, while I was gallivanting around Eastern Europe, so the political landscape might have changed since then... I spent about 10days in Serbia and Hungary, and as usual had some pretty weird things happen to me. I thought it'd make more sense to make it into a 3-part account, so anyway here's the first one. Enjoy.<br />
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*** </div>
I don't know if any of you has been following the news recently, but in
the last few weeks, Europe has experienced a surge in number of people
seeking refuge. Most of the people are Syrians fleeing the conflict in their
country, and this has been a challenge for the European union, especially
the border countries of Italy/Greece and Hungary for a variety of reasons.<br />
<br />
One of the most important being the Dublin protocol, which
states that people must seek asylum in the first country they land in. However, the sheer numbers this time meant that a change had to happen, and after lots of
negotiations, an agreement was reached about how to redistribute the
people fairly within the EU, based on factors like the economy, population, country
size etc. In spite of this new agreement however, many of the migrants prefer to continue on to Germany and western
Europe where they feel they will get better help. As you can imagine,
the combination of thousands of people arriving daily, and the fact that
many didn't want to seek asylum in the border countries (sometimes less
welcoming), meant that things quickly heated up. The Hungarians responded to this by closing the main station from which people were transported on to western Europe.<br />
<br />
Ok quick explanation, as an EU citizen, I have the right to visa-free travel within the community. I also, as a Brit, have the right to stay visa-free, for up to 90days in Serbia (non-EU). Now with that brief introduction out of the way, I'll move on to
the rest of the story.<br />
<br />
One of the negative results of the recent refugee crisis, is that local
populations in some countries e.g. the Eastern European and shamefully
for me the UK, have shown increased hostility to people who appear
non-native (they are also of course, many in these and other countries,
who have shown love and given generously to aid the plight of these
people). I was obviously aware of this, and had the slight worry that I
being black and obviously foreign, might have some untoward experiences, but I'm glad to say
that contrary to my expectations I able to witness kindness from one or
two Hungarians. Notably the guy who paid for bus tickets and helped a
family of Syrian refugees we met at the night bus station.<br />
<br />
I arrived in Budapest at
11.15pm and by the I got out of the airport, the last metro was shut, so the only option was the night bus. As I stood at the bus station together with the other travellers, a guy in his 20s, looking almost scared of bringing attention to himself, spoke quietly with a Hungarian man. Apparently, he had no clue where he was, and was trying to figure things out. He asked the man for the name of the country and city, and asked how he could buy himself a SIM card, so he could call the other people in his entourage. He'd managed together
with some members of his family to arrive somehow at the train station/night bus station
and wasn't quite sure how to continue from there, and of course had no Hungarian currency. He also seemed
particularly worried about identifying himself as Syrian when the Hungarian asked him some questions. Anyway, the
kind (but loud) Hungarian destroyed my stereotype of "Eastern Europeans," and revived my faith in Humanity, when he loudly stated that he didn't agree with the actions of his
country/government, bought them tickets and then decided to go with them
(out of his way), all the way to the main Keleti station where they
needed to be for further trains in the EU.</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
The next morning, I got to the newly re-opened main station to find it a complete mess. They were people and tents everywhere, women and young children, in what looked like a mini UNHCR installation. The air felt palpably tense, and there was a very obvious armed police presence. Even entering the international ticket halls required passports with a valid visa! I had travelled a lot, and been to Budapest once before, and this was the first time in my life I ever experience something similar. The atmosphere was quite unpleasant, and made me extremely anxious for my well-being. It also made me question my ajala ways, briefly ;)<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxlIA8mAkQlBHsSYfpncAMJbvAKXtYKc5A-S-f8TquBcN7nAyoOo8kTsPb5xvBVByNVtJQd6HAChXkrxPEjJXdtVEEqHdkdlG1jNCSJwBfWYnlAtuHTcqZi4GrwegjFQehZYGMKt3mP9a/s1600/20150911_095752_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVxlIA8mAkQlBHsSYfpncAMJbvAKXtYKc5A-S-f8TquBcN7nAyoOo8kTsPb5xvBVByNVtJQd6HAChXkrxPEjJXdtVEEqHdkdlG1jNCSJwBfWYnlAtuHTcqZi4GrwegjFQehZYGMKt3mP9a/s640/20150911_095752_HDR.jpg" width="360" /></a> </div>
</div>
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Just after boarding the train</div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZIlZofcfh4ODrmhzw7SkRvqawT-AZk6wa8uB7QTcB4gPbyEpDFU3YSdS29Ma8hn8szfYBPMwXOB09vR6wXhspK24_YiWY9b_z5JtaLqNzRzT8j-rbXbKTDGtx5KtyO_SUTzTjG1TRIlf/s1600/20150911_101519.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgMZIlZofcfh4ODrmhzw7SkRvqawT-AZk6wa8uB7QTcB4gPbyEpDFU3YSdS29Ma8hn8szfYBPMwXOB09vR6wXhspK24_YiWY9b_z5JtaLqNzRzT8j-rbXbKTDGtx5KtyO_SUTzTjG1TRIlf/s400/20150911_101519.jpg" width="300" /></a></div>
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Sustenance for the 8hr journey</div>
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<br /></div>
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Anyway after all the kerfuffle, I managed to catch my train, and settled in for the 8hour journey to Belgrade. 3.5hours later, we arrived at the border town of Kelebia where the scary border
police got on and checked our passports. I knew I didn't need a visit for either country, but even I
got scared as they spoke firmly with passengers and kicked people off
right left and centre. After a 30min wait, we crossed into Serbia and immediately had a repeat
of the passport control event. The Serbs seemed friendlier, and the lady
that checked my passport even seemed nice, but next to me was another border
control guy who asked a fellow passenger for his ID card and kind of
insisted on it. The thing is we Brits don't have ID cards! We can only
use our passports as travel documents, unlike in many other countries. I
luckily have a Belgian ID, as all citizens/residents must have one, but
that's obviously not a travel document for me , especially outside of
the EU. In the end he sha let the guy go, thank God!<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTFfFCZ1xxqfoLNnKwgemm98rLgzzajyM3NSgzjxZIoidRfl1KVQzz9fz_J_jI0jj-Ce30JGMuAgs53pWx_qYBdu1K2CsUhufMrJvE2GdEGl8QtfBKUhJp3V6oE-lMBVYU3RRtaX3fhrN/s1600/20150915_154232_HDR.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvTFfFCZ1xxqfoLNnKwgemm98rLgzzajyM3NSgzjxZIoidRfl1KVQzz9fz_J_jI0jj-Ce30JGMuAgs53pWx_qYBdu1K2CsUhufMrJvE2GdEGl8QtfBKUhJp3V6oE-lMBVYU3RRtaX3fhrN/s400/20150915_154232_HDR.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Last Serbian town before crossing into Hungary</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTk3Oeod0WbIpEdPsMKuG54m4Yql9K-tyyGZ_4gW3KfbWbaecDVbteH0i9RdUyHg-PjfyjZoa3GxK7P1wZdquzHwH0hBvag7gfH2nV0c7_651WneK_bDhZ5JIreNdzWx7gq_wMN7sgPS6F/s1600/20150915_152612.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTk3Oeod0WbIpEdPsMKuG54m4Yql9K-tyyGZ_4gW3KfbWbaecDVbteH0i9RdUyHg-PjfyjZoa3GxK7P1wZdquzHwH0hBvag7gfH2nV0c7_651WneK_bDhZ5JIreNdzWx7gq_wMN7sgPS6F/s640/20150915_152612.jpg" width="480" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
The not so nice Serbian border guard</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
</div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
On the way back, T called me because he'd heard on the news that interesting things were happening at the border. Me, having been off the grid and dealing
with other more pressing stuff, didn't know what was happening and so
was completely calm. The journey went smoothly without any excitement
until we got to Subotica, the last town before crossing into the Hungary. Here the
previously friendly Serbian border guards burst into the carriages with
some relish and started shouting "Syria, Syria!" When no one
responded, they turned to some "Mediterranean" looking guy and screamed
"passport!" at him. Lucky for him, he was Italian, and was let go fairly
quickly. They then checked everyone else and the atmosphere became rather
tense and I scared. For the first time in my life, I was specially glad
about the normally unremarkable fact that I am black! It's sad to say
this, but no one shouted at me or treated me weirdly, because I did not
have the "Syrian" phenotype.<br />
<br />
Tune in later for parts 2 and 3 of Clara's great Eastern adventure of 2015 ;) </div>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-79678658129825122302015-10-23T09:18:00.001+02:002015-10-24T08:34:17.674+02:00Update!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I got a request from the lovely <a href="http://pynk360.com/" target="_blank">Miss Pynk</a> two days ago to update (thank you for the encouragement!) and as an amenable somebody, I decided to acquiesce and put up a post. </div>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
I know, I've been a super lazy blogger in the last few weeks and in fact I think the last time I put up a post was over a month ago, but I have a valid excuse. My life has been just cray cray! I've been travelling A LOT, and in addition to this, have had many life-changes occur in the last few weeks. I'm not sure if everyone knows this, but I moved here to Belgium last November, almost a year ago. At the time the move was meant to be temporary, a grown-up (working) Gap year if you will. I wasn't quite ready to move back home to England, and as we still weren't sure where T and I would settle, I decided to do a sideways shift from Paris to Brussels. I got a job as a maternity replacement and a flat for 9months, however as the time slowly elapsed, I realised that I'd probably stay here for a while longer, and needed to look for a new job and a new accommodation. The job search was relatively painless and I soon got myself something interesting, however, the situation on the flathunt front was completely chaotic. I had decided to give up my apartment, and look for a flatshare, because I wanted to save more money so I could pay back my student loans faster, besides, as I was never in my flat #ajalatinz, I thought it made more sense to get something smaller and cheaper. </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Easy peasy right? Wrong! From the hollywoodesque flat, with a swimming pool, where the en-suite rooms were bigger than my actual flat, to the super grotty room in the middle of nowhere, I was exceptionally unlucky. As in people would say yes, ask me to come sign the contract, then turn around and send a message retracting their offer. The last one was particularly painful, as I truly believed I had the place, only for the guy to send me a message at 11.50pm on the Wednesday night (I was supposed to move on Friday morning!), saying they'd decided to give the room to someone else. To say I was distraught was an understatement! Anyway, I remembered that I had details for another flat, so I sent the guy a long message explaining my plight and thank God he replied immediately and even agreed to show me the place the next day, Thursday after work. With the money, as well as all my paperwork (passport, Belgian ID card, work contract etc.) in hand, I turned up without a lot of faith, since I'd been burnt so many times. Imagine my surprise when I arrived and met the guy who being in a hurry, gave me a quick 5minute tour of the house, and then handed me the keys just like that. No payment, no paperwork! He was like "we can sort all of that out in the days to come". I'd found something only a few hours before I had to be out of the other place, I couldn't believe I wasn't going to be homeless! I had to stay up all night to pack and clean the old flat, then with the help of my amazing colleagues, moved into my new place at 9.30 the next morning, sleep-deprived but so so happy. That was last Friday, and I have been trying to recover since then, with working the weekend and doing all the admin stuff (medical visits, HR etc.) for the new job.</div>
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<br /></div>
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In other equally exciting news, I got the results of my German exams yesterday, and not only did I not fail, I did well!!! I wanted to get 4s in all the sections, but knew that I was probably realistically only worth 3s. I mean I only started learning in January, by myself, and I'd had moments when I was quite lazy and didn't do any work for weeks. Plus I kept reading online that the people who did well in the exam, often took classes for years, then attended special preparation courses and bought/used the practise books. Me, being a cheapskate couldn't be bothered with all of that, especially since I had already shelled out <span class="st">€</span>175 for the exam and was taking it just "for fun" anyway (other people take it to prove that they have an academic-level grasp of German, for Uni). I sha did my best in the last few weeks, revised a lot and went off to spend 4days in Germany at T's parents place, and hoped for the best. And it worked! I got 4s in 3 of the sections, and even a 5 in the speaking part, meaning that I am now at the upper Intermediate/advanced level, after only 8months of self-study. I achieved the goal I set in January 3months early!!! The best thing about all of this is that the certificate is valid for life, and should I wish to apply, I will be exempted from all German university language requirements forever. Anyway below is a picture of the results, live and direct. </div>
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<br /></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssYjQB9G7ZeGw-WFhkMQbP4vcCJ470jtLHf3MXu3QXRDDpkcFQtbphRIHcBc7Ze7J37p-gWSdP5Fa1tbGIB56zUJ9sUFIolulKaoAu8iFTPZtlConYkCzHaohqLRYwvHGRRYkV4-njps2/s1600/Screenshot_2015-10-22-14-24-30-1.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjssYjQB9G7ZeGw-WFhkMQbP4vcCJ470jtLHf3MXu3QXRDDpkcFQtbphRIHcBc7Ze7J37p-gWSdP5Fa1tbGIB56zUJ9sUFIolulKaoAu8iFTPZtlConYkCzHaohqLRYwvHGRRYkV4-njps2/s400/Screenshot_2015-10-22-14-24-30-1.png" width="397" /></a></div>
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<br /></div>
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So, I'd like to thank and dedicate this <strike>award</strike> I mean
certificate to T's mum, the person who inspired me to learn German, and
the most patient teacher ever. I'd also like to recognise the hard work
of Hanna, my language partner who started with me "from the bottom" and
accompanied me till I got "here." The poor thing had to deal with me
shooting unimaginable grammar bullets at her, but she survived, and made
it her job to encourage me at every turn. A huge vote of thanks also
goes to <a href="https://ediyemade.com/" target="_blank">Jen</a> and <a href="http://ladeutschediva.blogspot.de/" target="_blank">Shahida,</a> my blog readers, Instagram
followers and Periscope audience, for the support and
encouragement in those times when I was fed up of German and/or lazy.
And last but not least, I'd like to thank God, my family, T (side-eye
though for the times he laughed at me), the city of Cologne, the German
TV channels online, the Conversation Exchange community, my poor colleagues who had to deal with my Franco-Germano-English
words and phrases, my credit card for covering the (in no way
negligible) cost of the exams, the various restaurants where I met Hanna
every week to practise German and sample the wonderful range of Belgian
beers, the Belgian train company for not doing their usual thing and
striking on the day of my exam and Haribo for making the gummy bears given
to me by the MIL as nerve-calming medicine. I will think of each person/party whenever I look at the certificate, and of course you should know that you each own a tiny piece of it ;)</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now I really am motivated to keep improving, plus I need to get back to my Italian. This has reminded me that I CAN do anything I put my mind to! </div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
And, #godwin is definitely the phrase for this week!</div>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-90871186838464376542015-09-22T09:24:00.000+02:002015-09-22T09:24:52.797+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Köln Edition<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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</div>
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As you may know from my constant blathering, I have been learning German since January and I was scheduled to take the early September TestDaF exam. Well I realised that I wasn't perhaps as prepared as I could be, so I decided to go visit T's parents for 4days so that I could really practise my German intensively. It was obviously good for my language skills (T's mum was a teacher), but not only that, also my physical and mental well-being. I was spoilt by the MIL, and really got to relax and do nothing but hangout, watch silly TV, laugh, sleep, eat and (window)shop. It was exactly what I needed after the hectic lifestyle I had leading up to the visit, and it also signalled the beginning of my week long travels/holiday in Budapest and Belgrade. This post is just a quick update, and I will be writing about my adventures in Eastern Europe, over the next few days and weeks. Have a lovely week!</div>
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<br /></div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpkfJDNpF4Y_dXmGoOyt36DaPc-_x8FzLFTiPna7AgMLeLEd_9zCds4rcui1Db81xYNHBwM2tXTMGMjHMnjZ6fa7IudOkQXpZ11faU6ZRosI8eXuzwkBteyVzIY7mYVi4OYu0sufeb6OgN/s320/20150905_124159.jpg" width="240" /> </div>
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Had to pack 2 different luggages </div>
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for my 2 very different trips</div>
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</div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2pfaDVQwrpe0PWwMK-RHCAJZpaX4VuUsh2n9FdsxUk0bSQHhQf62X83T7Ds_8Bc4eR0f3bo30X26uSCc_PzhcqQQT6DBo-_QRHnSj-LSpA4aMtExtTYSQiixKadBky1zYKYlShKD5j8nS/s320/20150908_131154.jpg" width="240" /> </div>
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Lots of girly dates with the MIL</div>
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<img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMZMxHPreLUkXTQzNmoPyTDWq8Ewa3zWHC4PrVtRKVY7TEzOXMxL-o5bxvMndK-Ju-64_PHA9cg07r_ynhMolUmXy_SA7Y3LFHCjlDDNYkxBAWkhMXCKW6dlqhFpsmGeOMIFXwabfzCW-O/s320/20150908_083434.jpg" width="240" /> </div>
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Broke my no-shopping rule to </div>
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buy this lovely pair of rain-boots</div>
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Spoilt rotten! I got a lovely welcome, late birthday surprise presents </div>
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and of course a mini-haul of goodies to take home with me</div>
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Yet another lunchdate with the MIL, </div>
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the theme seemed to be Italian this visit</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-43534668390259430042015-08-31T13:32:00.000+02:002015-08-31T16:22:55.579+02:00The Good Old Days...<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hi everyone! Wie geht's? So, a brief sortie from my German bunker to talk about today's topic.</div>
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I have a rare day off on this wonderfully sunny Monday, so I decided (as you do), to waste some time on Facebook. And luckily too, because I saw that I had been tagged in a conversation about our old secondary school days. And my God, was it a (bad)trip down memory lane! </div>
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Ok, for those who may not know, I went to a Unity school in Nigeria. They are the equivalent of the British Grammar school, or the French's Grandes <span class="st">écoles</span>, but at secondary level. You usually have to take an entrance and score above certain cut-off marks in order to make the list. You were then "randomly" allocated a place in one of the Unity schools anywhere in the country. These schools were heavily subsidised, with respect to the quality of education they provided, because the idea was to train a selection of "gifted" children, while at the same time strengthening each child's Nigerian identity (they were established after the horrible civil war of the 60's). All the ethnic groups were mixed, and as you could be sent anywhere in the country, many of the students were boarders, as many lived far away (mine was about 6hours away for instance). We had three terms, with holidays and mid-term breaks, as well as monthly visiting days, but you effectively spent a huge chunk of your life at school (from about 11-17). So with that quick explanation out of the way, today's Facebook conversation was about SOME of the scary things that happened to us. I'm just going to put up a few snapshots of the comments, keep in mind that they were actually a lot of replies and almost everyone experienced something strange. Anyways, here goes...</div>
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"Great" memories of exciting times indeed. Can you imagine this stuff happening anywhere else? A rampaging (or several) paedophile(s), snakes, owls, Bush babies (Galapos), not to mention the evil senior/older students and teachers in a school of about 2000young girls (no parents!!!). I still wonder how we survived, and who chose the idiots that were our caretakers?! Still I guess that's why we are all so independent, adventurous and fearless today. I mean when you experience all these things as a kid, it becomes hard for anything else on earth to faze you. So guys, especially the Nigerians in the house, any "strange" or usual boarding house/school experiences you care to share with us? Please go ahead!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-85735455623844844822015-08-06T16:48:00.000+02:002015-08-23T10:32:32.189+02:00Clara's Travel Tales: Why I am always Poor! :(<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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We got paid about a week ago, and doing my budget/finances today made me realise I'm already quite broke even though it's barely the end of the first week. Yet I am not a big spender, as is obvious from my bank statements, where the biggest expenditure by far is from travelling. <br />
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I mean I'm off to Prague again in one week, and then two weeks after that, off to Köln for a few days, so that I can polish my German skills right before my exam. And of course I haven't seen a few dear friends (Engefreunde as the MIL told me yesterday), in a long time and I miss them all very much. I would like to see everyone, but realistically know it's impossible because my middle name is Ajala, and sadly not Bill Gates.<br />
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So, I decided to do a list based on how long it's been since I saw each loved one, and even with all that careful prioritisation, I still ended up with this urgent "to-travel" list! It's beginning to look like Budapest(Hungary) and Belgrade(Serbia) in September, as I want to go before it gets colder so that I can enjoy myself and possibly go to the beach (haven't caught even a glimpse of the sea this year). I'm also hoping it'll motivate me to work hard over the next few weeks as I prepare for my German exams. What this means is that I'll be travelling on the day after I get back from Germany, right after the exam, in fact I think I'm going to have to go to the exam-centre with my luggage!<br />
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Paris and Sweden also need to be planned at some point, and naturally Prague remains the regular "home away from home" for now. England will be for Christmas, and Nigeria hopefully early next year, and then of course the US ati be be lo, after that...let's just hope I don't bankrupt myself soon :( </div>
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So, are you about the ajala life? If not, what is your particular brand of "money-waster" or "hobby"? Please share and help make a girl feel better about her vices!</div>
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P.S. I'm supposed to be doing a practice essay for my exam, but then procrastination (abi na inspiration sef) struck, and I decided to do a quick blogpost instead. Shakes head in German...<br />
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P.P.S. Since I haven't done much travelling this month (apart from Prague), and being really busy at the moment with revision (only 19days left!!!), I have decided to make this my 15-for-15 entry for August. Stay tuned for September's exciting posts...will be visiting Köln/Louvain-la-Neuve/Budapest/Belgrade, all in 12days!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com24tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-39107411751764277202015-07-31T20:55:00.000+02:002015-07-31T21:04:59.865+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Prague Edition (Part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Off to explore the city!</div>
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The beautiful municipal hall</div>
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The <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prague_astronomical_clock" target="_blank">Prague Astronomical clock</a></div>
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I hadn't even heard of this until today, yet was amazed when I saw it and heard the history behind it. Apparently the clockmaker Hanuš was blinded (with his tongue cut off to boot!), on the order of the Prague
Councillors who were worried about him repeating his work in another city, and therefore causing Prague to lose it's glory and trade. He in turn took his revenge by throwing himself into the gears of the clock, and so damaged it, that no one was able to repair it for the next 100years!</div>
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The upper time plate has an astronomical dial that indicates the position of the planetary bodies, in addition to the "normal" time, while the calendar plate below indicates the days and months of the year as well as the zodiac signs. Best of all is the fact that when the clock strikes on the hour, there's a little animation that happens with it, truly a masterpiece of technology. Wikipedia explains it well.</div>
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"The four figures flanking the clock are set in motion at the hour,
these represent four things that were despised at the time of the
clock's making. From left to right in the photographs, the first is
Vanity, represented by a figure admiring himself in a mirror. Next, the
miser holding a <a class="mw-redirect" href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bag_of_gold" title="Bag of gold">bag of gold</a>
represents greed or usury. Across the clock stands Death, a skeleton
that strikes the time upon the hour. Finally, the Turk tells pleasure
and entertainment. On the hour, the skeleton rings the bell and
immediately all other figures shake their heads, side to side,
signifying their unreadiness "to go."" </div>
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Closer look, can you see your zodiac sign?</div>
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Random selfie, just because ;) </div>
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Snake charmer?! Yes, those are real pythons. Got close enough to take a picture then fled! Can't come and go and be saying ngbati ngbati later, abeg telling "stories that touch" is not my portion jare.</div>
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Ran into this group, playing beautiful traditional Czech music in their traditional outfit. I posted a clip on my Instagram page, it was so lovely, I wish I took their name!</div>
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#celebritytinz!</div>
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And I saved the best for the last, two incidents that made me go hmmm?!<br />
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First one happened today, when a family of Chinese tourists came up to me and asked for a picture. I was like yes of course I can take a picture of you guys, but what she actually wanted was ME in the picture #dontjealousme. I kukuma said yes, and gave her my phone to take one for me too...maybe I'm destined to be famous in China, or at least among that family's entourage lol!)</div>
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Second one happened yesterday while T and I were out. As you do when trying to find something, he wandered off, while I walked slowly behind him, all the while keeping him in my sights. Suddenly, an older "gentleman" appeared by my side and decided to "help" me find T. The following conversation occurred.</div>
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Older "gentleman": Look, he's over there, but why is he walking so fast away from you? </div>
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Me: (looked at him strangely, then) Do you know where we can find X?</div>
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Older "gentleman": Let me show you Prague, I know all the nice areas</div>
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Me: (confused and bewildered gan, about the possible correlation) No, thank you. He (referring to T) has already shown me the city</div>
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Older "gentleman": I can show you the beautiful little villages around Prague, let me give you my number!</div>
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Me: (more insistent) No, thank you!</div>
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At this point, T notices and walks back, and the guy suddenly loses his balls and starts spewing some crap about me being lost and him kindly trying to help me #awonfakeknightsinshiningamour. I have kind of wondered if both incidents happened because I am an incredibly attractive young thing ;) but I fear the truth is likely to be more unsavoury. They probably occurred because I'm black, and the weird thing is, I'm not quite sure how to feel about that.</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-44593031032969551762015-07-31T19:29:00.003+02:002015-07-31T21:06:16.196+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Prague Edition (Part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's that time of the month again, and as expected, this edition of Clara's Travel Tales takes place in Prague, my new favourite city. T moved here just over 6weeks ago, and this is already my second visit, because of course we like being together, but it's also because I really really love the city. When he lived in Brussels, although I sometimes felt it wasn't a beautiful city (poor little Brussels is no competition for Paris or London!), I felt right at home there. When he moved on to Vienna, everyone told me how wonderful the city was, but I was disappointed when I visited, because in spite of the amazing beauty of the city, I was never able to truly enjoy my stays. It just felt so...cold and unwelcoming, like something was missing, at least that was the vibe I got. </div>
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On to Prague. I love love love the city! It is beautiful, international and feels pretty calm, basically a
perfect amalgam of my three favourite cities (Paris, London and
Brussels). I could even see myself living here, were it not for the language which seems daunting and certainly out of my league (you try pronouncing some of the words on the signs below!). </div>
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Tourist information signs</div>
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Anyway enough chitchat, as I have only a few hours left, I'm just going
to do a picture heavy post of the yesterday and today's wander round the city so you can see for yourselves. Even though I did a guided tour, I didn't take many pictures of the tourist attractions, instead I was fascinated with the architecture, the beauty and the elaborate work on ordinary residential buildings. Oh and before I forget, I as usual had some funny incidents happen (I seem to be a magnet for such things!), but I'll talk about them things in part 2. Enjoy the pictures, and please click to enlarge.</div>
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Pictures taken all over the city</div>
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Pictures taken around the Old Town Square</div>
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Statue of Jan Hus, the Christian (protestant) reformer</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-30386882309736724992015-07-31T18:13:00.003+02:002015-08-02T08:17:20.350+02:00July Happenings :)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Hello from the beautiful city of Prague!</div>
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As some of you may have noticed, thank you <a href="http://duruadolphusjnr.blogspot.be/" target="_blank">Duru</a> aburo mi atata, I have been MIA again from the blog and blogosphere in general. Life has been super busy these last few weeks, and it has been showing me pepper recently. Why you wonder? It's because I apparently have a knack for over-stretching myself.</div>
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A few weeks ago, I realised that I was reaching a plateau in my German learning, and worried about it going the way of my Italian, I decided to challenge myself by registering for the TestDaF. It is a German language exam that tests from level B2 to C1, assigning the numerical values 3-5 to the three different levels. The exam was painfully expensive, so I am determined to get a 4 (equivalent to a B2.2), as this would in theory exclude me from all future German language tests. I'm far from a B2 at the moment, and with only 6weeks to go, I am having to put in a lot of work.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zZEwmkES_gdO1UgtBoGs_757rP2pbuNgV3ROEkTSq1HciUVWAm6y9GdMYMKQ8vcpvfsvb7mD_1aqWuJZlaY2E9X4LOPuHSo2Nqvnut4GSgZE4hLvZyzcJlD2o4XEauj8qWv1ZP-TnE09/s1600/upload_-1" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8zZEwmkES_gdO1UgtBoGs_757rP2pbuNgV3ROEkTSq1HciUVWAm6y9GdMYMKQ8vcpvfsvb7mD_1aqWuJZlaY2E9X4LOPuHSo2Nqvnut4GSgZE4hLvZyzcJlD2o4XEauj8qWv1ZP-TnE09/s320/upload_-1" width="320" /></a></div>
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Weekly German Plan</div>
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Then three weeks ago, I went back home to England because my uncle was getting married. I got to experience the Yoruba traditional wedding up close (we were the
groom's representatives), and I loved it! The vocabulary, stunning outfits, customs and traditions and the theatricality of the whole ceremony meant I was completely blown
away! I had previously participated in such a ceremony only once, 2years ago at my friend's wedding in Nigeria, but the stress then was so much that I decided it was not for me. However, although I could see how stressful it was for my uncle, this time I was carried away by the magic of it all, and I honestly CAN'T wait till it's my turn. </div>
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Of course in I have also been travelling a lot, as usual, because it's the summer holidays and my middle name is Ajala. This is my second time in Prague this month, for instance, even though I have no right to annual leave in my first year of employment (the Belgians apparently like to test their employees' endurance and work-like-a-dog-ability). What this means is that I have been doing lots of extra shifts and replacements, working long periods without breaks, and then trying to group all my days off together (the last one was a 12day working streak that almost killed me!).<br />
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As you can see, busy busy busy indeed! Obviously I haven't had much time to blog, however I have been making an effort to visit people's blogs every couple of days, even if it means that I don't get the chance to leave a comment. I'm sorry about that, but it's only until I write my exams in the second week of September. Really hoping the result is worth all the effort and sacrifice...fingers crossed it is!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-58033768571829473182015-06-29T13:54:00.002+02:002015-06-29T14:30:28.658+02:00June Happenings<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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June was an exciting month for me, and even though I didn't do much travelling, I felt rushed off my feet and busy busy busy. Still, it was a great month, made even better by the fact that I am either achieving the goals I set at the beginning of the year, or on track to realising them before the end of the year. Anyway without further ado, here are the highlights of this month.<br />
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<ul>
<li>T finished his contract in Vienna and came to Brussels for a week, a WHOLE week! It was so lovely to be together for more than a weekend, and to just hang out, doing nothing most of the time. He managed to meet a few of my work colleagues and friends, and I guess it helps to put a face to the names I mention every so often. </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Still on T news, we found out he was moving to Prague in the Czech republic also in June, and he had to organise living arrangements etc. in just under 2 weeks. Of course both of us are a bit sad that it means we won't be in
the same city for a little while longer, but I'm excited because it means I get to continue my ajala ways and discover Prague which I've always wanted to visit. In fact I booked my ticket as soon as he confirmed that he had accommodation, even before he himself arrived
there! </li>
</ul>
<ul>
<li> Went out with my colleagues for our summer/end of year celebrations (we
run September to June cycles), and got to see many of them in a new
light. I had so much fun, made quite a few new friends and ended up with a VERY embarrassing French nickname.</li>
</ul>
<ul>
</ul>
<ul>
<li>Decided that I'll probably stay a bit longer here in Brussels, as it give us more time to decide (and find out) where we're going to settle down eventually. I have asked for an appointment with my manager tomorrow to discuss a contract renewal/extension. Fingers crossed that things go according to plan. </li>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuY06NgxFyccoN66Hqi8kiFme-ajLinqD-Y8KA9ZXsjIDbM2Sj1sL0kla3zTzxOStbTRHhtB__Sbo69HWSEhzfXI8SAWoyLQTs9kzetzKRQF2xrJU2XfB2Sz8ZQ9IPIP_zxQFCJinJ0iJ/s1600/20150621_213343.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivuY06NgxFyccoN66Hqi8kiFme-ajLinqD-Y8KA9ZXsjIDbM2Sj1sL0kla3zTzxOStbTRHhtB__Sbo69HWSEhzfXI8SAWoyLQTs9kzetzKRQF2xrJU2XfB2Sz8ZQ9IPIP_zxQFCJinJ0iJ/s640/20150621_213343.jpg" width="480" /></a></span> </div>
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Needed, and luckily highly discounted bikini, from TK Maxx</div>
<ul>
<li>Following on from my biannual review, I decided not to make any more clothing purchases until the end of the year, starting from July. For some weird reason, the knowledge of this decision drove me to wandering stores, frantically wanting to buy something, anything before the new regime began. The fact that it's the sales period in Brussels certainly did not help that feeling, because I kept justifying things to myself by saying I would potentially be saving money, yes really. However, God be thanked, I was unable to find anything cheap enough or worth the price, and so I have managed to avoid all unnecessary purchases so far, apart from the bikini above which I really needed.</li>
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<li>I went to London to see my Singaporean friend, had a lovely time with her and managed to catch up with a few other close friends with whom I'd almost lost contact.</li>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxf3DwcF_JRvtCFLMjIG0rk9hFlRbhKfjNvvOjVPie9QrJyOEPRzJQyeuyb4bdwe-1FXhMZSgB3H53hnTaVRuCdCodRDXEun2nV8SqdZPW3vg_Kdja4aFA0Ipolp-5Erd3gydcaLhhQjH/s1600/20150627_172908.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPxf3DwcF_JRvtCFLMjIG0rk9hFlRbhKfjNvvOjVPie9QrJyOEPRzJQyeuyb4bdwe-1FXhMZSgB3H53hnTaVRuCdCodRDXEun2nV8SqdZPW3vg_Kdja4aFA0Ipolp-5Erd3gydcaLhhQjH/s400/20150627_172908.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSsAwAR4EAgIwozsKG5u21xNbwQjCLgWnhV7I6VOfq7SvL7XsNQbq3a8PUmalrHKQ-VEFI4i0iA-8U2zjoUTAIzgIX5FJDOD5gJcxu_XTTEeVjyK6CmgzSvUDUJk-IwP9vLD9Me0Kq0N5/s1600/20150627_172757.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSSsAwAR4EAgIwozsKG5u21xNbwQjCLgWnhV7I6VOfq7SvL7XsNQbq3a8PUmalrHKQ-VEFI4i0iA-8U2zjoUTAIzgIX5FJDOD5gJcxu_XTTEeVjyK6CmgzSvUDUJk-IwP9vLD9Me0Kq0N5/s400/20150627_172757.jpg" width="400" /> </a></span><br />
Battle of Waterloo reenactments.<br />
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<li>I worked this last weekend, and as we only had 3 boys at the hospital, the testosterone levels was just too high, and it quickly became really difficult to manage them. Luckily the sun was shining and the boys were up for a long drive, so off we went to the the battlefields of Waterloo to enjoy the reenactments with our ice-cream picnic. </li>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgQm5zU_2dzVgO6AaGziYwwVPMUeQ0znz1n2XZd60LVnatzX5XNANNJv6z8JixJ4SXs8laFplfwM1UmdrRybX6N9jO6kz8xLxGUVzI5O9frsVvonZ8uO1rWLfEU2hMImmFu8nxr7hxodt/s1600/IMG-20150610-WA0001.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHgQm5zU_2dzVgO6AaGziYwwVPMUeQ0znz1n2XZd60LVnatzX5XNANNJv6z8JixJ4SXs8laFplfwM1UmdrRybX6N9jO6kz8xLxGUVzI5O9frsVvonZ8uO1rWLfEU2hMImmFu8nxr7hxodt/s320/IMG-20150610-WA0001.jpg" width="207" /></a></span> </div>
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<li>Went to see a Nollywood movie with Hanna. It wasn't the best I've ever seen, but I supported my friend who was involved in the project, had a lovely evening at the cinema, and introduced Hanna to Nollywood. </li>
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<ul>
<li>And best of all, I received a letter from the Student Loans Company, with my annual statement, and what a pleasant surprise it was. I am pleased to announce that the gbese is going definitely going down, and fast too. I'm so
so encouraged, and it is such a motivation to continue working at paying it
off!</li>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-39581571337834125432015-06-26T13:15:00.002+02:002015-06-27T00:20:44.481+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The London Edition (Part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoXGP_f3ZQzdge-GUgEw94CfwasVxRsb-igNJjR400gCA-TZGd3x_dFJDxa9gbPuYjRIHntNJPpSmi7wA5LaLwESG4BE6u5nU8N-tv6SYd0HfV_urSAXaG9ZtpzfWmIik9ngc6WfA_CQe/s1600/20150622_075404.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEinoXGP_f3ZQzdge-GUgEw94CfwasVxRsb-igNJjR400gCA-TZGd3x_dFJDxa9gbPuYjRIHntNJPpSmi7wA5LaLwESG4BE6u5nU8N-tv6SYd0HfV_urSAXaG9ZtpzfWmIik9ngc6WfA_CQe/s640/20150622_075404.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qaZ1f34aP7zTcOyEApUfdk-xdtHm0BoOjyLuCKcj0_vhuWAp37aJyLnvpTEcPNUpzGo964Y4INUAtfPW1N0LRnXoIkg7-faRn7nUq80fbx_Y-P9RANkSKSvuAumZmwBi4e1AOiBE6OvF/s1600/20150622_133302.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8qaZ1f34aP7zTcOyEApUfdk-xdtHm0BoOjyLuCKcj0_vhuWAp37aJyLnvpTEcPNUpzGo964Y4INUAtfPW1N0LRnXoIkg7-faRn7nUq80fbx_Y-P9RANkSKSvuAumZmwBi4e1AOiBE6OvF/s640/20150622_133302.jpg" width="480" /></a></span></div>
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The Euroshuttle, a "train" for vehicles. It carries cars/buses/motorcycles </div>
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the same way normal trains carry people!</div>
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After a great weekend with my friends, I was dreading the long journey
back to Brussels, but was as usual kind of looking forward to being
either on the ferry or going through the Eurotunnel. I actually prefer
the ferry as it means you get to stretch your legs and enjoy a "boat"
ride, but I also don't mind the shuttle because I'm always amazed at how such a structure/engineering feat came to be. Anyway I was happy to be going back home and was looking forward to a long but uneventful journey. Alas this was not to be so. </div>
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First of all, my ticket told me that my journey was supposed to start at 8.30, so imagine my surprise when I arrived (thankfully) 35minutes early and was told I had just a few minutes to spare before my bus left! Apparently they'd made a mistake and the bus was actually scheduled to leave at 8, so I had to hurry up and get registered/passport-checked, thanks to the UK not being a Schengen country. I made it by the skin of my teeth, and got on the bus, only for the driver to tell me off for being a latecomer. I was so pissed, I tell you! By this time, all the "good" seats had of course been taken, and I had to sit next to a girl in full Burka. Naturally, I had nothing against her, but I really didn't want to sit next to her because I knew I'd have to eat later, and it being Ramadan, I wanted to avoid being evil by eating next to a fasting person. In the end though I had no choice, and it was fine because she turned out to be lovely. </div>
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Anyway almost as soon as we boarded the bus, we realised that we had a CRAZY co-passenger! As in the guy was completely LOCO. He started by singing loudly, and when one unfortunate girl decided to ask him to please keep it down, he went on a rant about being a British citizen and having as many rights as the next person. He said he'd been born in England, and that therefore no one could shut him up, in spite of his being black. He then claimed he had 1kg of cocaine, heroine and other raw materials for making new substances on him.
From there, he moved on to talking about how everyone was against
him just because he's a black guy who is expected to use/sell drugs and rape
women. T happened to call me during one of his rants and heard some
stuff, as well as the other passengers laughing nervously and I think he was a bit worried, the poor thing. </div>
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We were N, originally scheduled to leave at 11.20 :(</div>
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Well after 2 hours on the road, we arrived at the boarding point for the shuttle only to be told that they were serious delays, and that no one had any idea when normal service would resume! In the meantime, we went through passport control, and of course our crazy friend continued his tirade the whole time. At one point, they called the police who spoke to him but sadly let him loose. We then waited for 2 another hours, during which we were thankfully free to wander round the small shopping centre and weren't stuck on the bus with the crazy guy, and during which I made friends, and ended up chatting with a lovely
old lady and her husband who are horse-breeders. Sha, after all that time, they managed to sort out the problem and we were free to leave. Imagine our disgust when we get back on the bus to find our guy just as obnoxious as ever. He basically took up where he left, but added childish jokes, terrible rap, farting and burping to the mix! He even got to the point of saying he had some Semtex and was planning to blowup England as a revenge against Holland for Nelson Mandela (no, it makes no sense to me either). Anyway he got told off for the umpteenth time by the driver who warned him that he could kick him off the bus. That worked for a while, but he soon went back to his objectionable ways and continued for about 6hours, all the way to Brussels (because of course we ran into huge traffic jams). The whole time, I just kept wishing he'd told the bomb story while the immigration staff we on the bus, but I guess even obnoxious idiots have a sense of self-preservation. </div>
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I was so happy to arrive in Brussels, but felt really sorry the the other passengers who were stuck with him for another couple of hours all the way to Amsterdam!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-85520495745842144712015-06-26T12:00:00.000+02:002015-06-26T13:39:03.686+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The London Edition (Part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's that time of the month again, and as usual, your friendly (interweb) neighbourhood ajala is here to recount her travel tales. I have done a lot of short trips this year, and even though I have sometimes felt tired and frankly often a bit poor, I realise that I do really love travelling, and I enjoy the interesting things that happen to me on my travels. I mean at the moment, I am both child and husband free, and even my job and relationship permit me to travel, however deep down in my mind I know it's going to change at some point and I'm going to have to reduce my ajalaing one day. So yeah, I tell myself I need to make sure that I enjoy my current situation for as long as possible. Anyways, on to this month's story :)<br />
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Denise, one of my best friends, was coming from Singapore on holiday to London for two weeks, so I decided to meet up with her there, as it would obviously be much cheaper than going to her home to visit her. She kind of made up her mind a bit last minute and by that time the train tickets were exorbitantly expensive, so of course as a cheapskate with limited resources, I had to find other alternatives and decided to take the coach. As usual, I had a weird experience, but I'll talk about that in the second half of the post...<br />
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I had a really lovely time with Denise and got to see 4 other really close friends, and as London is kind of my hometown, didn't do any tourist things, instead the trip was based mostly around boy talk, general catching up, eating, laughing and re-visiting some of our old favourite haunts. It's going to be a picture-heavy post, but please enjoy!<br />
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At one of the many restaurants we visited, </div>
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the theme of the (long) weekend</div>
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Friday afternoon lunch at a correct </div>
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Nigerian restaurant #thingsimissaboutlondon :(</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Refuelling with a delicious risotto and chicken/chips </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
while wandering through Spitalfields</div>
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Nandos! </div>
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Hanging out in bookshops, so much laughter </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
(and hours wasted ahem!) on some of the content</div>
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Tea, desserts and Denise's crazy impromptu sketch </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
of a Chinese/Nigerian man. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
Click to enlarge.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
Quick anecdote, as we walked into one of the art shops around Camden, Annabel suddenly cried out "but you're half Chinese and half Nigerian!" Some poor lady next to us took a look at me and became really confused. I guess the poor thing could see that I was with 2 Chinese girls, and that we seemed really close, but my face clearly contradicted all the information she was receiving! In my mind I was like gbeborun, mind ya own business lol. <br />
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Wandering round Brixton market with Vicky, </div>
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and eating delish Thai food, </div>
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for which the lady gave me crazy super hot chillies. </div>
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Love love love this part of London because it's vibrant, </div>
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cheapish and the food is always on point!</div>
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Riding the tube which I hadn't done in aeons, </div>
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and going to my uni/old neighbourhood</div>
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At the Southbank with the girls, </div>
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seeing my old neighbourhood/hangout spots. </div>
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Southwark Bridge from the Southbank at night.</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-58657067478390716082015-06-15T18:32:00.001+02:002015-06-15T18:46:14.998+02:00(try!)To-do List 2015: Midyear Review<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02FmDlffKoSH6XvR_XGkPvKyMRxdXZg8jQp_3Y1sTrkiTchp7KjyUTLKINKTbvdztlyNmUeaHpF9tJiMN5yayb7mCqhT2tLM1NqoYzIUWcbY2o1T-cZy-ZC8RtJvotudc61lxBcECPRsJ/s1600/IMG_20150615_133449.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"> <img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi02FmDlffKoSH6XvR_XGkPvKyMRxdXZg8jQp_3Y1sTrkiTchp7KjyUTLKINKTbvdztlyNmUeaHpF9tJiMN5yayb7mCqhT2tLM1NqoYzIUWcbY2o1T-cZy-ZC8RtJvotudc61lxBcECPRsJ/s400/IMG_20150615_133449.jpg" width="400" /> </a> </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br />
I love list-making
and goal-setting, and so it follows that I regularly evaluate my goals
to see if I have achieved or am on the way to achieving them. Just
before the beginning of the second half every year, I give in to
introspection, reflect upon the
past months and ask myself how well I have done. So, off we go with
this year's resolutions</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b><br /></b></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<b>Health and Diet</b>
</div>
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Complete ban on caffeine and fizzy drinks <span style="color: red;">(failing miserably on this count, really need to re-tighten my belt)</span></li>
<li>Minimise junk food consumption<span style="color: red;"> (doing ok)</span></li>
<li>Increase intake of water, fruit and vegetables. Practise quasi-vegetarianism <span style="color: red;">(spot on)</span></li>
<li>Increase fitness, heart-rate and muscle tone <span style="color: red;">(doing great)</span></li>
<li>Get rid of acne <span style="color: red;">(failing miserably, thanks to all the sugary drinks)</span></li>
<li>Walk 2x15mins a day <span style="color: red;">(going above and beyond, I regularly do 1-1.5hrs/day)</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>Relationships</b>
<br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>
Stay in touch; contact at least 4 friends abroad, each week <span style="color: red;">(doing ok)</span></li>
<li>Spend more time making and developing Brussels friendships <span style="color: red;">(doing great, thanks to church, <a href="http://internations.org/" target="_blank">internations</a>, Hanna, Temi, Tolu, lovely work colleagues etc.)</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<b>"Self Improvement"</b><br />
<ul style="text-align: left;">
<li>Learn German, I hope to have achieved a level C1 at least by <b>December 2015 </b><br /><span style="color: red;">(on track)</span></li>
<li>Use time wisely and improve punctuality <span style="color: red;">(could be better, but I'm doing ok)</span></li>
<li>Read more books by Nigerian/African authors <span style="color: red;">(failing, but this is because of the complete ban on English/French language books)</span></li>
<li>Go dancing, to the opera/cinema, sightseeing etc. Be cheesy, have fun!
<span style="color: red;">(not a lot of "high culture" opportunities at the mo, but
between travelling, getting visitors and hanging out with Hanna, I'd say
I'm doing just fine) </span></li>
<li><span style="background-color: white;">Be aggressive with
my student loan, pay back at least <span style="color: white;">6000</span></span><span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">€ </span></span><span style="color: red;">(on track, thank God even though some months are harder than others! I think I might even end up paying slightly more than the amount I initially decided)</span></li>
</ul>
<br />
<div style="text-align: justify;">
While looking at
the list this morning, I realised that with a few minor adjustments, I
could make even more progress in the 3 most important areas of finances,
German and my health. </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
Since
the beginning of the year, I have given myself a monthly budget and
kept a strict record of all my expenditure. This helped me see that a
lot of my money actually goes on junk food and unnecessary purchases of
clothing items. I mean I have so many things that I wear rarely, or have
never even worn in my wardrobe, yet I continue to add to the pile! I
also have a stash of toiletries that I either bought on sale myself or
was given by the MIL, J from <a href="http://blog.ediyemade.com/" target="_blank">ibibiogirl</a> or other friends, however
instead of using them, I continue to spend money on new ones. As someone
who has a pseudo-nomadic lifestyle, it is even more important that I
have as few things as possible, because moving as you can imagine is a
pain otherwise. Another way of improving both my finances and my health
would be cutting out the junk food which has slowly made its way back
into my diet. My face tells the story of the countless grams of sugar my
body has ingested recently, and my purse certainly agrees with it.
Being radical and completely eliminating junk would mean killing one
bird with two stones. So the conclusion here is that I will from July to
December 2015, not be spending any of my own money on either clothes
(except possibly for one swimsuit) or junk food/drinks (going to
restaurants with friends/family is acceptable). </div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
As
for German, I realise that I have reached a plateau again with my
learning and have become very lazy. In fact, I can feel myself slowly
losing the little I know, and I am worried that if I don't do something
soon, I will end up with the same situation as I have with my Italian.
In order to avoid that, I have decided to register for the TestDaF (an
official German exam) in September. The exam tests from the intermediate
level and there are only three levels (B2.1, B2.2, C1.1), with German
universities systematically accepting the B2.2 and C1.1 for studying.
Now even though I don't think I'll be studying at a German university
any time soon, I'd like to reach at least the second level of the test,
because who knows what the future holds? The exam is quite expensive at
175<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">€,
so as a bona fide cheapskate, I'm hoping wagering money on it will
motivate me to work hard on my German and I have re-enlisted the help of
T, Hanna and the MIL for this seemingly mammoth task.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<span style="background-color: white;"><span style="background-color: white;">So those are the major goals for the next half of the year, see you in December for the next review. Have a lovely week everyone! </span></span></div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-79439470075557742732015-06-02T13:35:00.000+02:002015-06-02T19:29:01.662+02:00Nigerianising My World Since 2000-gbogboro<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
This post was inspired by <a href="https://ediyemade.com/2015/05/22/mit-diesem-essen/" target="_blank">J</a>'s post on sharing her food culture with her husband. I read her post and found it weird to read that some people seem almost ashamed of their culture. I'm not sure if it's the parents' fault for not having instilled better pride in their children or society's fault for celebrating certain cultures over others. Whatever the case, I will never understand how anyone could be ashamed of their culture, because to me one's culture is one's identity.</div>
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Nigerian me at London's Notting Hill Carnival in 2012</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
In my case, inasmuch as I love experiencing and being a part of other cultures, you simply could not have any sort of relationship with me without learning about Nigeria, the Yoruba people and even more specifically the Ondo culture! My cultural identity is part and parcel of who I am, and I proudly share the good, the bad and even the ugly with my entourage. I do this mainly through sharing the things I love the most i.e. food (as per the original FFO), and books.</div>
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For instance, I bought Things Fall Apart for the MIL in German and Americanah for Hanna my German friend/conversation exchange partner. And when we lived in Paris, my sis and I bought my French family friends about 4-5 books by both Chinua Achebe and Chimmamda Adichie. Just last week, my Mexican friend told me proudly on the phone that she'd bought Things Fall Apart and was reading and enjoying it too. Chinua Achebe is one of my very favourite writers, and it is of course natural for me to introduce my loved ones to his writing and through it, the Nigerian culture!</div>
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In terms of food, my main thing is fried rice which seems to have worked wonders on everyone for whom I've ever made it. My French family now loves fried rice and plantains to the point that my French mum said, as we walked past an African shop two weekends ago, "look another place we can buy plantain for dodo, let me note down the address." And few weeks before that, my Mexican and Italian friends suddenly sent me whatsapp pictures of them eating and enjoying food at a Nigerian restaurant I'd once told them about in Paris. In both cases, I was shocked...and at the same time proud of the good job I had done! When I went to Nigeria nko? I brought back a few bags of Kilishi from which I was planning to send some to my mum in England. The mistake I made was taking it to show them at work where it was quickly devoured, sotay I had nothing left to send to my mum lol. This in spite of the stereotype about the French being snotty about non-French food.</div>
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As for T, laisse tomber as the French say. He loves Naija food as much (if not more than) as he loves me haha! Pepper soup, dried fish and prawns, egusi, fried rice, spicy kilishi, ati be be lo, he loves it all. I'm pretty sure that our future home will be full of wonderful Nigerian food, as well as British, German and other countries' cuisines, inasmuch as we do not validate or denigrate any one culture over the others. </div>
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I recently spent time explaining the Nigerian elections to colleagues who saw my Facebook statuses and asked about it. And since my uncle is getting married, I am finally learning about this
aspect of my culture and excited to talk about all the rites and
different ceremonies to anyone that will listen. I've been explaining the Nigerian(Yoruba) traditional wedding process to Hanna and my MIL who is looking forward to seeing pictures. I even showed people at work pictures of my mum in her traditional outfit. </div>
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The thing is even though I think of myself as a child of two cultures, I celebrate and talk about Nigerian culture more because it is less known here than the British culture, although I often go on about that too. I don't force my culture down anyone's throat, or pretend that every thing about it perfect (no one culture is), but neither do I hide who I am. Instead, I surround myself with open-minded people who love me and everything about me including the craziness that is my Ondo-Yoruba-Nigeran-West African-British-English-Kentish self. </div>
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Do you have a bi-cultural relationship or friendships? How do you share your culture with others? </div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-71599096886874008012015-05-31T01:52:00.001+02:002015-05-31T02:06:10.675+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Bangladesh Edition (Part 3)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
And now, because I don't want to pretend that everything was rosy throughout my stay, the lowlights<br />
<br />
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Remember
the operation I mentioned in part 2? Well afterwards, I was told that we students had to wash the bloody beddings and sterilise the surgical equipment ourselves, even though we had hardly any gloves with which to work. At first I was shocked, then I became sad when I thought about the exposure of healthcare workers there (and in many other countries), to blood borne diseases. I donated some money when I left, but I wish there was a way to ensure the constant availability of gloves and aprons, at the very least.<br />
<br />
And on Sunday evenings, all those Indian movies we watched came with adverts about skin bleaching. They usually
started with a woman whose life was going badly, usually with no
marriage prospects etc., that is until she discovers "fair and lovely." Again, it made me so sad to see that the same disease that has unfortunately infected many people in Nigeria, could also be found here. The funny thing is that
the girls went on and on about how beautiful my skin and my hair were,
but then they all talked about saving up the little money they had to
buy these creams. I really tried to make them see that this made absolutely no sense, but I knew it was a futile effort because I knew I was going against the tide, in a society where pale skin had been celebrated and the darker hues denigrated for generations.<br />
<br />
Related to the colorism above, is the explicit racism I faced a few times, even though most of the people in the community took me as one of their own. I'll never forget the particular incident that happened as I took a walk with my (white) friend round the hospital one afternoon. A lady, seeing us, rushed towards my friend and touched her foot in reverence. Slightly bemused at the look of panic on my friend's face, I tried to distract the lady by saying hello, but she shouted out a few words, looked at me in shock and fled the area. Obviously with my extremely shaky Bangladeshi, I wasn't able to decipher what she'd said, until my Bangladeshi friend shamefacedly explained to me that the lady had been scared that I would touch her with my "cursed black devil" hands. I kind of found it funny that I was supposed to have that much power, but it also make me sad to think of how she thought my (white) friend could bless her while I'd only curse her, all this based solely on the colours of our skins.<br />
<br />
Another issue that I discovered was how the people of that area, being ethnic minorities, were discriminated against. In an unfortunate echo of certain parts of the Nigerian society, I learnt that intermarriage between the majority and minority ethnic groups is severely frowned upon, and I got to know of a few people whose families had disowned them.One of my friends was a product of one such marriage and she told me of how she'd suffered and still continued to suffer for the "sin" of her parents. It really was hard to hear that love doesn't always conquer all. <br />
<br />
Having always thought that leprosy was a disease that had been eradicated, imagine my surprise when I discovered that there was a leper's colony on the hospital site. It really was shocking to see people disfigured, with noses/ears/limbs missing, but it was even more heartbreaking to hear about the huge stigma they faced. "Sufferers" are often ostracised and shunned by their communities, and even their children, whether or not they have the disease
are banned from living with the rest of the population. This means access to healthcare, education, work and normal life are denied to these people, in spite of the fact that leprosy is a disease that is hard to contract, when one has a well-functioning immune system. Thankfully, the hospital established a centre where the people could find a community, live in peace with their families, learn a trade and even earn a living. </div>
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<br />
I realised that in many ways I had taken on the negative traits of the stereotypical "westerner". <br />
<br />
I
was a vegetarian for years, and I particularly hated birds of any kind
as well as their eggs, so imagine how I felt being fed eggs trice a day,
every single day. I initially just gave the eggs and daily banana
offerings to my dorm mates, but soon noticed that I was the only
one that got any sort of animal protein as well as fruits. It turns out
that the monthly tuition and boarding
fees of 1000Taka (equivalent of £10 at the time), was not enough to provide a balanced diet for everyone. Of course the school could have
raised the prices, but many families in spite of being middle class,
already struggled to bear the cost of sending their children to nursing school. Here they were offering me
special treatment and all I could do was grumble about not having a more
diversified diet. Luckily I realised this fairly early on, told myself off firmly and tried to be grateful for everything I was given.<br />
<br />
Another #firstworldproblem for me was one of personal space. In Bangladesh
for instance, it is quite normal for people of the same sex to hold
hands, but I found it extremely uncomfortable whenever one of my friends
grabbed my hands. I found the constant touching and the
physical closeness very very hard to bear indeed, and at some point even began to feel like I was being constantly assaulted. The other thing that bothered me seriously
was the hand-feeding that sometimes happened between close friends. Within that community, it is usual for one to eat rice and everything
else with one's fingers, and it is quite common to use the same hand to
feed a morsel of food to a close friend or family member. After dodging this so many times, it inevitably happened to me one evening as we had dinner. A dear friend tried to hand-feed me a ball of mashed rice and curry, and I almost lost the rest of my meal in the process. I sha managed to overcome the sick feeling, and in the end, even I got used to the idea of hand-feeding.<br />
<br />
In spite of these negatives, I really enjoyed my time there and honestly would go back in a heartbeat, if ever the opportunity presented itself again.<br />
<br />
Have a lovely Sunday! </div>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-92044994691378955532015-05-31T00:40:00.006+02:002015-05-31T23:14:50.919+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Bangladesh Edition (Part 2)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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The Highlights included:<br />
<br />
Getting invited to a traditional Hindu wedding the day after my arrival. As most readers know, I love food as per FFO,
and was so happy to discover all the new food especially the desserts.
At some point, I was so engrossed in my Jilipi and Gulab Jamun, that I
didn't realise the ghee on face ceremony had started until I found my
face being "gheed" up by one of the aunties.<br />
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Wearing saris and Salwar Kameezes.
My student nurses' uniform was a white sari, while my operating theatre
one was green. Imagine the fun my dorm-mates had with watching me dress
myself 5days a week! I swear the "asian" women who wear them everyday and make it look easy are the original MVPs. Of course on Sundays, my friends liked to dress me
up in their own beautiful saris and take pictures. The rest of the time,
I rotated between the 5 Salwar Kameezes I had had sewn the day after my arrival. I soon learned about the Salwar Kameez
and how it does the important job of covering women's shoulders, boobs
and derrière twice, in order maintain pudeur and avoid tempting men.<br />
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In the operating theatre</div>
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Yellow-belted 2nd year student</div>
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Playing dress up, in one of my dorm-mates' saris</div>
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My own stock of salwar kameezes and my super bling sari</div>
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And of course this brings me to dorm life and my four wonderful dorm-mates with whom I got on splendidly and had so much fun! They were obsessed with Indian films, and we spent Sunday evenings singing and dancing to all the cheesy songs together. I tell you, when you're only allowed TV one evening a week, you enjoy every single minute of it.<br />
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Friends!</div>
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Getting spoilt rotten. Healthcare staff and students were highly respected in the community, almost to the point of being revered sef, and as such we were treated very differently than I was used to in England. For instance, someone was employed to wash and iron our work-clothes, another to clean our rooms and yet another to cook for us. I was so thankful for the fact that I didn't have to hand-wash my 5 saris, each one yards long. And the food was beyond delicious; super spicy, sinus-clearing curries with warm home-made chapatis, rice or dhal...ahhh take me back please!<br />
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Dinner</div>
<br />
Experiencing so many things that I would ordinarily never have
experienced as an Adult Nursing student in England. In Bangladesh,
nursing students spend 4years at school and learn to be general nurses,
able to cover all the specialities, while in England we only do three
years at uni, but specialise right from the beginning. This means that
you get to learn a lot of things about your speciality, but are almost
completely in the dark about the others. So, I was very happy to be able
to work in the various wards and specialities, and got to see some
amazing things including a caesarian section as well as a natural birth
(I was traumatised for a long time after that). I also learnt about
some conditions that I would probably never have come across back at
home, TB, leprosy, child malnutrition (and here I mean severe
under-nutrition). I loved learning to take blood, doing post and
pre-natal care, and teaching school-kids about cleanliness, diarrhoea
prevention etc, through songs and plays. It was funny to watch so many
of them crack up at the badly dressed foreigner with her impossible
Bengali and "unusual" looks.<br />
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Community program with school kids</div>
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On one of the paediatric wards</div>
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The kindness of so many people. For instance, I was the only student that got eggs and bananas for almost all my meals, while the other girls only got the fish paste in the sauce as their source of animal protein. I guess they figured I was an ajebutter :( I also constantly got invited to parties and just random peoples' houses and was always treated like a honoured guest, to the point of people killing their (precious) chickens for me.<br />
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Doing mogbo, moya at a wedding, in yet another borrowed sari </div>
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Going on holiday to Peda Ting Ting, the remote island (with its
beautiful tourist resort), on the Rangamati river. This is probably
going to be a post on its own, but let's just say it was lovely!<br />
. </div>
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Being upgraded to business class for the first and only time in my life (so far), on my way back home. The lady at the check-in counter apparently thought it was a bad idea for a "young girl" like me to travel with all those men. By the way, I was 23 or 24 at the time, perks of being a member of team #babyfaceforever I guess! ;)</div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Side note, flights from Dhaka to the Middle East are always packed with migrant workers who are 99% of the time, men).</span></div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-31528521298136279682015-05-30T23:57:00.001+02:002015-05-31T23:15:15.039+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Bangladesh Edition (Part 1)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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It's that time of the
month, when I suddenly realise that time has somehow done its thing and
flown again! With only a few hours left till the end of the month, I
have decided to take inspiration from my last post and write about my
time in Bangladesh.... I hope you enjoy reading it.<br />
<br />
My
decision to study nursing was very last minute and as I couldn't be too
picky, I ended up having only 2 requirements: a London university that
offered study abroad options. This is something that was and remains
quite rare amongst nursing students in the UK, however as your resident OCDer,
I did my research and managed to snag a place at the highly reputable
King's College. Immediately after getting my admission, I asked about
going abroad and was told that the very few places available were
reserved for the best students. This was enough motivation for me to
work hard and get a 1st (which without further motivation, only ended up being a
2:2 by graduation), in my first year. In the end, only a handful of
people wanted to go abroad and even fewer qualified for the opportunity,
and almost every one of them chose "safe" places like the US, western
European countries etc. Me, I just wanted to use the opportunity to have
an extended visit with my best friend Jenni, in her home country of
India. (Un)fortunately
it was difficult for me to find a nursing school and/or organisation
that was willing to take me in her area, however, just before giving up,
I stumbled across the idea of going to Bangladesh. I was like why not?
India's just next door, and the culture (which I know quite well thanks
to Jenni), is quite similar right? Wrong! I was to discover and fall in
love with a new culture, language and people.<br />
<br />
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So anyway, I went with the organisation <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/BMS_World_Mission" target="_blank">BMS</a>, and was told I'd be going to a place called Chandraghona,
somewhere in the south-eastern corner of the country close to the
border with Thailand. Arriving in Dhaka the capital, after almost
14hours in the air, I was overwhelmed with the crowds (especially the children running after me), the heat, the noise and the
smells. Luckily I had people from BMS
to collect me and we made the long arduous journey to what would be my
home for the next few week. As soon as I arrived, I noticed that the
people looked nothing like my stereotype of Bangladeshis, with most of
them looking like they could be Thai or Malay. I asked and was told that
this was a group of people that was collectively known as the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chittagong_Hill_Tracts#Demography" target="_blank">Jumma</a>;
the tribal people of the Chittagong hill tracts. They were apparently
marginalised by the rest of Bangladesh, and had been fighting for their
independence for a few years. As a matter of fact, I was there during a
period of political unrest, when a lot of guerrilla tactics were being
employed by both the state and the freedom fighters. In fact there had
been a spate of kidnapping of foreigners just before I arrived, but
apart from having to apply for special permission to go on holiday in
the area, (with my own special police convoy to boot 8-/), I personally
had no problems. Anyways enough of my rambling, on to some of the highlights and lowlights of my time in Chandraghona. </div>
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My Dhaka "fans" ;)</div>
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The hilarious notice at a Café in Dhaka<br />
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A Hindu shrine, with revered turtles. Those turtles lead a charmed, pampered life I tell you!</div>
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I have decided to break this up into a three part series because it would otherwise be a very long read, so look out for parts 2 and 3 over the next few hours.</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-40962467143928151282015-05-18T13:14:00.003+02:002015-05-19T14:56:49.811+02:00One Man's Meat, Another Man's Poison<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Two of my French friends are in Thailand at the moment and like all generation X-ers, have been taking lots of photos and bombarding my Instagram page with the weird and wonderful things they have seen, particularly with regards to food. This got me thinking about how each person's definition of food "strangeness" depends on their culture and past experiences. As a Nigerian, I know that we have a lot of foods that many non-Nigerians would find curious or even downright disgusting. I'm talking for instance about <b><a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/in_pictures/7398395.stm" target="_blank">Bushmeat</a></b>, goat's brain in <b>Isi Ewu</b>, Ondo people (my parent's tribe) eating dogs, chicken feet, cows' legs, the offal and innards of cows/goats/birds, fish head and eyes etc. Even as a particularly picky child, I managed to eat and enjoy many of these delicacies without the slightest feeling of revulsion. However, one of the results of my ajala lifestyle is the fact that I have often been confronted with foods that many people, Nigerian and non-Nigerian, would find a little too strange. Of course my inquisitive nature means that I have tried and even enjoyed some of these dishes. Anyway, here's a short history of my "foodie" encounters.</div>
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Growing up, my mum (unlike my very picky dad) was an aficionado of the "exotic," and often bought and brought home various kinds of meat including <b>Turtle, Bat</b>, roasted <b>Frogs</b> and even one time <b>Snake</b>. I soon learnt to be comfortable with considering a lot of these as food items, and although I sometimes refused to eat things that felt too strange to me, for the most part, I tried almost everything.</div>
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Years later when I went to boarding school, I got introduced to the idea of eating insects...yummy, crispy-on-the-outside, moist-on-the-inside <b>Termites</b>! I don't know who came up with the idea, (actually Google tells me it's a well-known snack in certain parts of Nigeria), but we'd wait eagerly for it to rain then put buckets of water under light sources. The termites, driven out of their holes in ground and attracted to the light would then somehow lose their wings and end up in our artfully positioned buckets of water. They fell in their thousands, and we schoolgirls, ecstatic about this literally forbidden "fruit" eagerly gathered up the harvest and cooked them over candle-flame. Yes I know what you're thinking, carcinogens, improperly cooked food, fire hazard etc. My school thought the same things too, and this activity was completely verboten. However as you can imagine, the taste of termites, the clandestine nature of our activity and the chance to break rules meant that we did this regularly in the rainy season. In fact writing this takes me back to the good old days of the crispy, buttery goodness that were candle-roasted termites. </div>
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Moving to France after having being a vegan for many years, I quickly realised that non-meat diet was a misnomer for the French, and promptly gave up veganism. I then ate and enjoyed <b>Frogs' Legs</b>, having previously refused to touch this with a 10ft barge pole in Nigeria, and tried <b>Caviar</b> which I found much too salty for my taste. A few years later, I tried <b>Horse</b> meat while on a date and didn't like it one bit, although I put this one down to the cook who was also a disastrous date. <b>Steak Tartare </b>which I enjoyed, came later, but it made me worry for ages about getting sick from E.Coli.</div>
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For my first Christmas in Paris, I was invited to a friend's place and served <b><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foie_gras" target="_blank">Foie Gras</a></b> (literally fatty liver), a traditional Christmas fare in France. As a former vegan, I was a little bit reticent about eating it, but then my natural curiosity won and I decided to try it...loved it! (Un)fortunately, my principles over the cruelty to animals (geese and ducks are force-fed to effectively make them develop liver Cirrhosis) still cause me to pause each time I am offered this quintessentially French delicacy.</div>
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<b>Crocodile</b> meat, I've had this before when I was younger, but I had forgotten what it tasted like and only got to try it again a few weeks ago when my sister visited Brussels. She tried it for the first time at a Congolese restaurant, and fell in love. And honestly, who could blame her? The taste was amazing! It reminded me a little of the <b>Asun</b> (spit-roasted goat meat) my father used to make when I was a kid. However, the fact that it was crocodile (CROCODILE!) stopped me from really enjoying and re-ordering it, unlike my sister who got addicted and ordered the same dish trice in one week.</div>
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In Finland, I tried <b>Mykyrokka </b>(blood-dumpling soup)<b> </b>while visiting the then boyfriend's family and had been enjoying the meal until I decided to be polite and ask about the soup. Let's just say I found it a struggle to swallow the rest of my dinner when I got their responses. During the same visit, I also had <b>Venison</b> (deer meat) which was absolutely delicious but made me feel so incredibly guilty. I felt like I was eating Bambi! :(<br />
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During my year abroad in Sweden, I tried <b>Surstromming</b> (fermented or rotten baltic herring, depending on who you ask), and nearly died from the odour that had me nauseated for hours. It was an epic fail of an experience which will never ever be repeated. On the other hand, the equally pungent <b>Shrimp and Fish Pastes </b>fermented in earthen pots for about 6 months underground, which I regularly had in Bangladesh was the bomb! It was used to make beautifully spiced blow-your-head-off hot curries, which we ate with <b>Chappatis</b> or rice.</div>
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And to finish, I'm not sure how I came about this exactly, but I've had <b>Kangaroo</b> jerky before, and I loved it! </div>
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So that's my strange food history. What is the strangest thing you've ever eaten?<br />
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com17tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-63125807996515432622015-05-04T16:45:00.001+02:002015-05-18T10:57:04.308+02:00Started From the Bottom, Now We're Here!<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<style type="text/css">p { margin-bottom: 0.1in; line-height: 120%; }a:link { }</style>Pardon my brief descent into craziness, but I am
feeling very proud of myself at the moment. Why you ask? Yours truly
after only 4,5months has tested as an intermediate German speaker.
Oya, everybody clap for me. Thank you, thank you! ;)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCLTZsAQQvoh80CPbmjhqNRTHbjFCzhSb5B_tmbkXBrNe1_3_nBhN7w0rTPoYsGE_wEO1wPtChKkxk5u06isRbmSgI_cPPYfbJqUd3o0WQShJ-fTu4zJYlJdSAsxcWBZzrunBkR5gA1jj/s1600/20150504_150817.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKCLTZsAQQvoh80CPbmjhqNRTHbjFCzhSb5B_tmbkXBrNe1_3_nBhN7w0rTPoYsGE_wEO1wPtChKkxk5u06isRbmSgI_cPPYfbJqUd3o0WQShJ-fTu4zJYlJdSAsxcWBZzrunBkR5gA1jj/s400/20150504_150817.jpg" width="400" /></a> </div>
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<br />
When I decided to start learning German in the
second week of December, I set myself some goals and panicked when I
realised the magnitude of the task before me. Then in February or
March, I booked a ticket to go see T's family in May, and promised
myself that I would be done with all the lessons/exercises on
Duolingo by the 7th, the day before I was supposed to travel. At one
point a few weeks ago though, I started to panic because I realised
that I was so behind that it was unlikely I'd achieve my goal, but
for some weird reason I became motivated again and due to some
intense work, managed to finish the whole thing one week before my
deadline. During this time, I noticed that the more German I did (on Duolingo/by
watching TV or through reading), the more I became used to the
language, and the easier it was for me to learn further. It was a
virtuous circle, and so efficient that it almost turned me into a
German freak. I have had(and still have) so many ups and downs with
this crazy language, and have often felt like abandoning it(even
taking a few breaks when life got too overwhelming), but I am so glad
I never completely gave up. Of course I am still far from fluent, but
I thought I'd share how I did it anyway, because it might help
someone else.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYkT1pK5axwSw8W0yqkOmMXPVI7cF7P9iLmYhMq-x9llY3EhLqh3xtMoenStfEMZyKacKAa2f93RZ4vxKsrcMQvnwZGlFJbhMpwXh8OttF45gb2kAJtiuFG6VqGL3UMNj3Cv8msMa7Eo2e/s1600/Screenshot_2015-05-01-15-15-49.png" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpGfayG4S079xlNSuRwGz-8_7geLUmCf3awHJEek9-S_efCoUxB0po5NQlX18V-LY0uEbRXzoyIGupl0Rqh3FiQrdiM9y_Hcq_vzIXiUnfpbmxAz__ZqrP1egkyMXMSdJ03kLj9QE_Lxwj/s1600/20150504_150817.jpg" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOk2TfVN6PZf0cVporSJyk-pyiTD7rUyYk_lzPyCbNtYKR1Vbo_aoHq6Sym-XfGgfhGk1I4IWlbrV1F2QCMflYfhlo9zJ9I0l3YMqHw3By4oq4oY5HVpCrFJSsaVvj4K_w7ZaLt8o-Q8n/s1600/Screenshot_2015-05-01-15-15-49.png" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPOk2TfVN6PZf0cVporSJyk-pyiTD7rUyYk_lzPyCbNtYKR1Vbo_aoHq6Sym-XfGgfhGk1I4IWlbrV1F2QCMflYfhlo9zJ9I0l3YMqHw3By4oq4oY5HVpCrFJSsaVvj4K_w7ZaLt8o-Q8n/s320/Screenshot_2015-05-01-15-15-49.png" width="180" /></a></div>
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<div style="text-align: justify;">
So a few takeaway ideas from my experience of
learning French, Italian and now German:
</div>
<ol style="text-align: justify;">
</ol>
<ol style="text-align: justify;">
<li>
Set goals and
try to be accountable! Even if your boyfriend and friends
side-eye you for your obsessive behaviour.</li>
<li>Speak, speak,
speak. People (again my boyfriend and even my conversation partner
were guilty of this) will laugh at your pronunciation and/or just
not understand your babbling, but don't let that discourage you.
Practice makes perfect, and your efforts will eventually bear fruit.
Oh and the same people who laughed at me now compliment me on the
progress I've made.</li>
<li>Living in the
country and immersing oneself in the language and culture while
important, is not essential. I learnt French a bit quicker
than I am learning German now, because I was immersed in the
language 24hrs a day, but I've realised that these days there are so
many ways of surrounding oneself with the target language. Books,
the internet, radio, watching TV are all ways of bring the proverbial
mountain to Mohammed.
</li>
<li>Ups and downs
are normal and to be expected in language learning (and with
everything in life I suppose). Embrace them. Celebrate every high,
mourn every low but never stay static. This is also one very good
reason for evaluating and re-evaluating your progress regularly;
sometimes we don't notice the progress we've made until we take an
objective test or someone else compliments us or points something out.</li>
<li>Surround
yourself with "encouragers". Blog readers, my conversation
partner/friend, my boyfriend's mum and T have all been very helpful,
especially whenever the going became difficult. So yeah a big THANK
YOU to everyone that encouraged(s) me, you guys have been absolute
darlings. DANKE SCHÖN!!!</li>
<li>
No dream ever materialises without some
effort, elbow grease and a good dollop of sweat. So to everyone that
has some goal they want to achieve, my advice in the great words of
Nike, would be to "just do it!"</li>
</ol>
<div style="text-align: justify;">
<i>Addendum: After putting up this post, I suddenly realised that it might mislead people, causing them to think I speak German perfectly. Well I don't. I can communicate verbally and read without too much difficulty, and I understand a huge percentage of what I see/hear on TV/radio. However (due to insufficient interaction), my speaking language skills still need a lot of work, mostly with pronunciation and acquiring more advanced vocabulary. So yeah I'm definitely still a long way away from fluency!</i></div>
<ol style="text-align: left;">
</ol>
</div>
Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-67235087172796298542015-04-30T22:56:00.001+02:002015-04-30T23:01:15.475+02:00 Clara's Travel Tales: The Bruges Edition <div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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A million thanks to darling <a href="http://duruadolphusjnr.blogspot.be/" target="_blank"><b>Duru</b></a> for reminding about and spurring on me to putting up April's post for the 15 for 15 challenge! As I have only a few hours left, I'm just going to do a short but picture heavy post of our visit (with my sister), two weekends ago to Bruges.</div>
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According to <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bruges" target="_blank"><b>Wiki</b></a>, Bruges is a historic city and a prominent UNESCO World Heritage Site, and honestly it looks the part. I first went there three springs ago when I visited with friends and we spent a few days in the city, managing to fit in a 50km(!) cycle tour, and going all the way to the Netherlands. The year after that, T was already living in Brussels and together with another friend, I visited and ended up doing a day trip to Bruges. This time it was my sister's turn, and since train journeys in Belgium are cheap (at least compared to the UK), we decided to go for the day... so basically, I have visited the city three times in 3 consecutive years. Now if my blog says anything about me, it is that I love travelling, and have a desire to explore as much of the earth as possible (this by the way is why I hardly ever return to the same places, at least not without a considerable lapse of time). However beautiful Bruges, nicknamed the Venice of the North for its many canals, has managed to charm me Every. Single. Time. Anyway enough talking, I'll let the pictures speak for themselves and convince you. Please click to enlarge and enjoy!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5400147229398530772.post-82975138897645270052015-04-30T22:21:00.002+02:002015-04-30T23:01:27.951+02:00Quick Update<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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I have been away for a while because my life has been going at 100km/h again; 4guests in 3weeks, followed by a visit to T, and of course a full time job in my spare time. Something had to give (and I did come down with a bout of bronchitis), so I basically gave up on social media apart from Instagram every couple of days. May is looking like it will be hectic too, but after that life will become calm again since I haven't planned any trips (apart from a Nigerian weekend in London, in July). I am so looking forward to staying in Brussels and enjoying my flat, the city and my new church for a bit.<br />
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In other news, German has been going very well indeed; in spite of my extreme busyness, that's one thing I definitely did not let fall by the wayside. Anyway I'm going to try to catch up on everyone's blogs this week, and update on my German progress as well as Clara's travel tales...<br />
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Tomorrow is May day, so have a lovely long weekend everyone!</div>
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Clarahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13876158358336384263noreply@blogger.com4