Category Archives: FUL DOBR

Dear 2014!

I guess you’ve heard it before: you were quite shitty to many, many people around the world. But I’m not going to rub it in now, my guess being it was not always yours to decide.

The reason I am writing to you lies hidden in the opposite direction: You were good to me personally  and for that I’d like to thank you. I don’t know whether it was a hard or an easy job, being good to me, but you’ve done it with aplomb.

Thank you. This song is for you only:



Moosic Delights In 2014

MARIA FARANTOURI. The one and only.

THE RUSTAVI CHOIR. Of course: გეორგია!

LAMENT. Einstürzende Neubauten.


APHRA TESLA. The Operating System.

Oh, and: in no particular order.

(A great music year, for me. Even though I wasn’t paying attention and good music just … dropped by.)



“Römische Dekadenz, wie?”

“Ja, warum nicht. Ich kann mich nicht mehr erinnern, wann ich zuletzt schwimmen war.”

Dabei mag ich Schwimmbäder.

Na gut, das heute war kein Schwimmbad, sondern eine waschechte Therme. Mit Heilwasser. Schön war es trotzdem.

“Mal sehen, ob wir nicht die jüngsten sind.” sagt mein besorgter junger Mann.

Sind wir nicht, auch nicht die ältesten. Die Besucher geben sich überhaupt nicht für Klugscheißerstatistiken her und das ist auch gut so.
Nun ja: Außer uns. Wir sind die einzigen ohne Badelatschen und Bademäntel. Totale Anfänger halt. Dafür sind meine Zehennägel perfekt lackiert, seit dem letzten Schwimmbadaufenthalt habe ich mich halt geändert. Ich glaube aber, dass das völlig umsonst war und allen egal ist. Die Welt interessiert sich heute nämlich gar nicht für mich.

Wie geil ist das denn.

Also schwimmen, von vielen Wasserstrudeln massieren lassen und abhängen, vom Außenschwimmbeckenrandlauf. Auf Liegestühlen eindösen, das Schwimmbeckenprogramm wiederholen, es sind ihrer drei. Schwimmbecken. Und überhaupt nicht überlaufen, die müden Weihnachtsshopper kommen wohl später.


Irgendwann werfe ich meine Bikinihose in den Müll, sie ist zu groß und rutscht zu schnell runter. Zum Glück hatte ich die Reserve dabei.

Ein wenig später bereuen wir die zu Hause hängenden Bademäntel noch mehr: Damit könnten wir ins Bistro nebenan. Wir haben Hunger. Also nochmals die 3 Schwimmbecken, raus, dann Dusche, Fön, Restaurant. Salat. Die Zwiebelringe lasse ich liegen und klaue Pommes bei meinem Schatz, um das Essig aus der Bahn zu werfen. Dann Kaffee.

Zu Hause fische ich meine letzte Einsendearbeit aus dem Briefkasten. Also schon korrigiert.

“Willst du nicht reinschauen?”

“Nö. Nach den Feiertagen. Heute habe ich keine Lust auf Überheblichkeit. Schon gar nicht auf unleserliche.”

Weil das ja klar ist. Als Kaufkraft ist man geschätzt, auch frau, sogar ausländisch. Sobald man aber irgendwas in Anspruch nimmt, wenn auch berechtigterweise, ist das mit der Schätzung so eine Sache. Und bei einer Ausländerin? Ist halt so eine Sache. Man soll ja heutzutage bekanntlich dankbar sein, in Deutschland leben zu können, und gar nicht so tun.

Dabei ist die Zahl der Einheimischen, die davon ausgehen, dass ich automatisch über sie herziehe, riesig. Zu groß. “Du hast ein Blog? Kannst dich dann in deiner Muttersprache so richtig auslassen, wie?”

Nö. Ich hab’s nicht so mit Zwangslästern. Lästerzwang. Ich lese halt Bücher und beobachte Menschen. Konzentriere mich auf das Wesentliche im Allgemeinen. Die Nationalität ist mir dabei schnuppe. Sorry. 


OOTDs 6 & 7: Posh Moose, right?

It was cold outside, and quite grey, when I realized I wasn’t going to pass the economy exam: I didn’t understand anything we were supposed to learn during our Saturday seminar. At the same time, I felt unnaturally well. How come?

That day I found out I am a sucker for organic materials and non-poisonous clothes: it was my shirt that made me feel so well, a feeling I have been able to recreate and prove ever since. While “genetics” might be a strong word to use and probably not correct, I can still say I am a “natural born clothes snob” aka Posh Moose, right?

Anyway, I have been expanding my organic clothes treasure trove since that day and loving every piece of it. It’s a slow process because I don’t believe in organic cotton tees sold for 5 euro – what about the workers who made them? Did they survive? Can they eat? Breathe? This lack of belief in the necessity of textile workers torture for my own well-being (aka chock-full wardrobe) has lead to my cutting down on quantities purchased but also to some new, much beloved pieces of clothing  sharing my living space.

Like today’s OOTD 6 and OOTD 7: a pair of laser-designed jeans (noone died in the process of distressing them), combined with a cardigan (made of organic wool) my husband wanted to send back because of size issues. My favourite blouse (organic cotton) and a pair of trousers (not organic, but nice) my husband wanted to send back because of size issues.

After the jump. SFW.

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Kdo bi si mislil … Danes zjutraj sem bila hvaležna, da nas večina Evrope zamenjuje s  Slovaško:

“Slovaška kandidatka za podpredsednico Evropske komisije je svoj nastop pred parlamentom opravila slabo in bo najbrž zavrnjena.”

Glaskogen: Lessons In Love.

“I don’t think I can do that.”

It took me whole 60 seconds to find that out and say it. In my head, exclusively, I do have some pride. Now what? Wisely, I excluded the confession act as a possibility and gave it another try instead. And another one. I still couldn’t do it, but I walked on. Nothing else to do: I had claimed a few weeks ago, loudly and comprehensively, that I should be able to do it, so now it was too late to find out I couldn’t. So I walked on. Just like I’d do in real life, nothing new there for me.

Just before we started packing our rucksacks for a 3-day hiking tour, the rain had decided now was the time to act out the attention whore part and stick to it for some time. Of course it would, this is Sweden, for ticks’ sake! I could only hope my brand new Dalsland tan wouldn’t get rinsed off or mouldy till we get home. Home. Where the bed is. And the shower. Walk on.

Gradually, my body stopped hating me for carrying such a huge load for so long in such a rain and we made 8 kilometers that day. At the end of which, we discovered our first palace: they hadn’t bothered with the red carpet but painted the whole house red instead and inside, there were beds. And an oven. That day, I may or may not have believed in heaven on Earth …

Oh, the rain? It was our devoted companion all along. Jep. One of the most beautiful hiking areas there ever was, admired as water color. With the exception of a few moments, that is. Beautiful moments.

We spent the next night in another red house saying “Germans go home” on one of its walls. Sorry to say we didn’t. We couldn’t. Not after 15 kilometers in the rain and half a ton on our backs. But thank you for the oven and all the wood.

– – –

“Where did you spend your holiday, if I may ask?” The repairman was nice and talkative, so I told him the truth: “In Sweden.” The tremor rattling his body could be seen: “Sweden? Isn’t it … cold and rainy up there?” He checked my chocolate tan again – it must have provoked his question in the first place – and decided to stick to his opinion: “And grey?”

“Yes, it is,” I lied (not wanting all the world and her wife to travel there next summer), “but then, at least there are no mosquitos when the weather’s bad. And it is still very beautiful, Sweden is.”

That’s true. While I was afraid I’d be missing Finland way too much, I found Glaskogen area to be quite similar to our beloved Finnish hiking grounds and that was enough. Oh, and: we had enough sun in Dalsland to enjoy a 5-day paddling tour in the first place.

Strange, though … this year no one exclaimed Spain’s gonna win as soon as they heard us talking German. At least I thought that was strange until I finally had a look at a comprehensible Swedish newspaper: it contained the words Spain, Chile and fiasco. I couldn’t believe it.

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… qui mal y pense 2: les Vosges du Nord



Love It: Oil Pulling

Discovered last week at my favourite Man Repeller’s, I have already managed to get hooked by it: oil pulling.

Meaning I spend 20 minutes of my mornings swishing coconut oil around my mouth, before spitting it out and cleaning my teeth.

I really love the taste of coconut oil and the effects of oil pulling feel great to me: I’d recommend it. More information to be had on Access Hollywood.

Lest I Forget

to let you know:

IMHO The Next Day

is wonderful.

Musste mal gesagt werden / Je bilo treba povedati

“Unsere Wohnung ist eigentlich ein verkapptes Fitness-Zentrum.”

“Jep. Mit Schlaf- und Waschanlage.”


“Najino stanovanje je v bistvu zakrinkano središče za fitness.”

“Jep. Z opremo za spanje in pranje.”