The hassle dazzle of getting into a community hospital

So I was sick, very sick. I kind of thought I was going to boil up alive. I had taken a day off work, but it was not enough. In Portugal, you have the right to be three days at home when sick. I am a very conscious employee, so I decided to go get help. I tumbled down the stairs from our apartment to my car where I sat deep down on the driver´s seat, merely seeing over the steering wheel. Alright, I am short(ish), anyhow I was buried in the seat.

Waze directed me to CUF Cascais. All went fairly well at the hospital, got to see a Doctor fast and had five (5!!) days of sick leave and a long list of medications. When I got home, I spoke with a fellow colleague on the phone telling her about my hospital visit. Then she remembered to inform me that, it is not allowed to get sick leave from a private hospital. Whaaaaaaaat?

After about 10 calls here and there, including my mother (who is in Finland and cannot help me by any means) I went to the community hospital near my house. Sweating and heart pounding I entered a box-like building (actually it was a box, a building container to be precise). I went to the counter where I found a bored (in life) lady. I asked if it was possible to see a physician. She looked at me up and down, and snorked “take a number”. I was bewildered, there was no one else in line. I turned around, stretched my arm to a ticket machine and took a number, 75. Seeventy-fivEEEE the lady shouted. I looked at her even more confused and said, “That would be me”. She did not look happy at all.  She asked for my healthcare number, which of course I did not have since I never had needed one before. She said, “We cannot help you”, and gave me a number to call. End of story. I was so angry, I had tears running down my cheeks going home. What am I going to do? I opted in the last resource possible and drove to a bigger community hospital nearby.

When I reached the stairs of the entrance I fell. Look at poor me, going to die soon, a 37 degree fever. The lady at the counter saw me and my red cheeks and said that you can only make a healthcare number between 14-15h. Then she asked me to sit down, and she drew out papers and started to fill them out for me. Bless good people. The next day I went in for a physician, she gave me two days of rest, despite the five days given by a private physician. I learned that community hospitals only give a maximum of three days at once and then you have to drag yourself to the hospital again.

Lesson learned, sort out all the relevant papers/identification codes before you really need them!

My not so Portuguese neighbourhood

I live in the very heart of Lisbon, however my neighborhood is the least Portuguese place in town. Welcome to small India! Don't take me wrong, I really enjoy living here.

Not so many years ago, this centrally located neighborhood was one of the worst neighborhoods to live in. Even today, when I tell people where I live they look at me like Dory in Finding Nemo.

Moving to Martim Moniz almost a year ago made me like Lisbon. We used to live in Bairro Alto. Bairro Alto is THE place to party on the weekends with loads of tourist restaurants and small shops. Once I was told that there are 168 restaurants in Bairro Alto. Dude! The place is not that big.However, when we were living in Bairro Alto we realized that absolutely no Portuguese live in this neighborhood. Why? Because the houses are built 200 years ago, they are in bad condition, cold, not isolated, full of mold and the story goes on... Tourists and students usually occupy these houses.
Imagine going to bed on a Friday night before 2am? Sadly, you will not be able to sleep a wink.

Another sad reality of Bairro Alto was that me as a blonde was harrassed constantly. I was twice persecuted and touched inappropriately during daytime, plus the additional yelling things like I am an object. It really was nasty.  One day when I stepped out on the street in the morning I was offered "Hashish", "Cocaine" and other things I did not know of. I have never been the "try everything" kind of person, and therefore my bewildered expression and question, What is that? Resulted in confusion maximum... for both parties of the conversation.

Back to ...

... Martim Moniz, peace and quiet, Chinese restaurants (illegal and legal), Chinese pottery shops, Chinese food markets, Indian kiosks, Indian markets, Indian kebab, Indian restauarants. I am a foreigner too ...although my ethnicity is more of the Northern kind. I walk down the street in peace, with my head held up.



Ramiro

We also have the best rooftop bar, Topo, which plays funky music and have good drinks. Topo, overlooks a plaza where events of all sorts occur. A couple of weeks ago there was an Indian all women's event. It was beautiful to follow. During the summer, the plaza was full of small bars where people could have their drink in a chilled out atmosphere. Every Thursday we have a Kizomba party. The place is packed.

Best seafood place in Lisbon is Ramiro. If you like seafood, this is a MUST.


 

And I would also like to give attention to the homeless (yes they exist here too) who live outside of our house. Who kindly greet in the morning, may they be high on something or plainly drunk...

Bem-vindo!



Martim Moniz

Visit to the emergency - Portuguese style

We were supposed to have a nice sunny Saturday, slow brekkie, thesis (uff), lunch and then off to the park to read our books (in Portuguese!!). However, Nik slit his finger with a knife. Fiskars knives are efficient - we know now.

So off we went to the nearest hospital. Literally 200 meters from our house. It is not actually a hospital, referring to a building, but a massive complex. We figured that when we entered. It must have looked kind of funny, us running back and forth. Nik with his finger in the air. (It was plastered alright but bleeding heavily). After 10 minutes of searching we found the emergency.

The receptionist asked where were from. Then they started listing up countries they have agreements with; Sweden, Norway, Denmark, Estonia, Russia... apparently everything around Finland but not us. 168euro -said the lady. WHAAAAT!? We would have had this fixed for 70e in the private hospital. Not cool. Then we figured to show the European emergency card. That was cool, since the price of treatment suddenly dropped to 18e and an agreement with Finland was established.

We were rapidly redirected to the small surgeries area. There we had to wait almost two hours for treatment. Finger tingling and still bleeding. But this is Portugal. Wonder if it would have been faster if the finger would have been completely off?...

It was an interesting place, the Portuguese emergency. Casually sitting beside me was a lady who was keeping it calm and bleeding directly to the floor. Every 15 min a cleaning lady came and cleaned the mess up.. On my other side was a very friendly drug addict who seemed to have lost half of his nose and front teeth. He did not remember when this happened, but it might had been this week, he said. A nurse also casually asked him if he had taken drugs. Obviously he had. 67 mg of heroin, he declared. And still standing, asked the nurse. Well, you know me, he said. Another nurse pointed out to us that if I were to speak Finnish to him now he would understand it better than what the drug addict was trying to say. Lovely. We got in and out from the hospital in 4 hours. Fast in my opinion after hearing the horror stories of friends being wrongly treated and in the emergency room with an actual emergency for 6-12 hours.

We survived with three stitches and an adventure.
It's time to celebrate with sushi.

Bom fim de semana

-H

Portuguese manners for a beginner

Surprisingly, the Portuguese are like the Finns. Closed people who do not want to make too much noise. Note: Does not apply when drunk. On neither one.

Working in Portugal has been the closest thing to culture exposure. I also studied (still do) at the University of Lisbon. However, the kids and the culture are very international. No weird manners noted. However, at work I came across some funny manners (for a Finn).

The most recent learning experience is that you say Happy New Year to everybody, clients, colleagues, the cleaning ladies, the guard... Anybody you see during January who you have not seen yet. It goes like this: *muaks* *muaks* (cheek kisses), BOM ANO!!! Lovely, in Spanish it means *muaks* *muaks* GREAT ASS!!! Because I seem to have a dirty mind, I cannot see this one escaping my attention. It is correct, but I am kind of bilingual Portunhol (Spanish-Portuguese).

Regarding the cheek kisses, they are given to everybody you meet, may it be the first time or the hundredth. If you act Finnish (or basically any other not Southern country), you give the hand. This is kind of bad mannered because why wouldn't you want to kiss this person? Does he smell? You will be greeted with a sloppy-surprised hand. Cheek kisses. Always. Btw, don't kiss the actual cheek, kiss the air and make the *muaks* noise. If you kiss the cheek it is weird again. (This was for over eager kissers.) Funny story, when I was in Finland over the holidays I gave cheek kisses to everybody. OMG. Private Territory. Hand. Always. My bad.

However the most interesting thing is sharing. That is certainly not something we Finns like to do. Especially with alcohol. Anyways, you are obligated to ask if anyone wishes to have some of your food when you have food. (Does not necessarily apply during lunch hour, but should be offered anyways). Está servido? Are you served? Even if you had ONE nut in your hand, you shall ask!! Super badly mannered me who ate an almond and did not offer a taste to the five other people the same room. Once I ate yoghurt and then remembered, ohh I need to ask: Está servido? To my surprise the person tasted from my spoon. :D:D Never underestimate the situation.

I put a picture of food to reinforce the text. Its a Spanish omelette with a twist. 

Otherwise, the Portuguese are so alike us Finns. It would be weird to have a culture collision here. People are pretty straight forward and sincere. Could this be a small country thing?

Até próxima,
Heidi

The weather forecast in Lisbon: Ice Age

When you have nothing to say but there is the risk of an awkward silence, we usually speak about the weather. It is THE topic. No matter where you are.

It is sunny, it is cold, it looks like it´s going to rain, uff the cold. As I have had a radio silence the past weeks, I will take up the challenge of “the weather”. But I have a good reason.

In Finland it never occurred to me that I could freeze to death. In Portugal my life is a constant struggle not to turn into a deep frozen fish stick. In the North, the cold gives you a slap in the face. Wearing enough clothes will help you. Meanwhile in Portugal; stockings, jeans, socks, stocking long sleeve shirt, jumper, jacket, hat and gloves. I will survive! And the chill is on your bones. It´s like freezing from inside out, not outside in. The digital pharmacy sign tells you it´s +9! LIES

Yesterday, happily walking home at night dressed as a look-a-like Michelin man it started raining. FOGO (crap or something similar). There I was, soaking wet.

It does not make my dramatic life brighter at all, not having proper isolation or heating system at home. Going to bed is quite ok, it is cold but the battery and fleece pajama warms you up. However, if your blanket falls down and reveals some body part at night, you instantly wake up and cover yourself before you need an amputation. In the morning you prepare to run from the bedroom to the bathroom. Run? It´s so cold you might freeze on the way. Btw, the bathroom seat is no treat either. You butt might deep freeze on the rim.

The cherry topping: People laugh at my fight against the cold. Would you believe it? They mock me for being “over sensitive”. If you read in Iltalehti about a Finn who was found frozen in Lisbon, it was me.

 

 

A São Martinho get together

Last Friday we celebrated São Martinho at work. In general, the Portuguese are very settle celebrators. At least in Lisbon. I have heard that in other parts of Portugal, especially the North, the people go all festive on certain days. But Lisbon, tsirp tsirp (it's a cricket).

When I lived in Spain some years ago, I could not wrap my mind around how many church parties there could be. Honestly, every week there was a parade in some part of the city where people were dressed as in the 1800th Century dragging a huge cross around. And then eventually becoming completely and utterly wasted. First church, then drink.

The Lisbon experience has been different. On Halloween (Dia das Bruxas) people were dragged into the party. The festivity was showed into their partyless lives. But São Martinho is another story.

São Martinho is celebrated 11.11. There is a legend to tell the story, involving a beggar a cloak and good weather. The rest I already forgot... and to be honest, when I asked around nobody knew. People are just interested in castanhas, Jeropiga e Agua-pé. That is; chestnut, alcoholic beverage and other alcoholic beverage. Its the theme of the day. Eat roasted chestnuts and alcohol for the mix of flavors.
To be honest it has got something to do with trying out 'new wine' and summer of São Martinho, which means a come back summer for a couple of days. Which is true, the sun is shining from a clear blue sky currently.

Back to the Friday party. We organized a chestnut-man to come roast chestnuts outside of the office building. The chestnuts were wrapped in company branded paper and the service was paid by the company. It was a nice event. Anybody wanting to have roasted chestnuts could come get some. Nice marketing initiative, I must say...

If you come to Lisbon, there's roasted chestnuts in every corner of the city until March when the strawberry season starts. (Roughly estimated.) Try them, so goooood and full of nutrients.

Have a lovely Sunday ya'll.

I am a Dancer

It surprises me how many dancers travel to Lisbon to 'learn how to dance' or study dancing. Last Summer the parking lot in front of Jazzy Dance Studios (the biggest and most known dance school in Lisbon) was crowded with caravans. The location is absolutely perfect, its physically on the brink of Rio Tejo and therefore the scenery is a-w-e-s-o-m-e. And its most probably pretty cheap... Imagine living in a house wagon. Whaaaaat? Pretty cool.

I am going to briefly explain some topics related to dancing. This is the first time I am stating my opinion. Anybody is free to be of another opinion and also state it. But I ask, please keep it civil. No attacks on me. Obrigada.

1st A dancer is a dancer Anybody who dances can call him/herself a dancer. You dance = You are a dancer. If you run, you are a runner etcetera. Got the picture?
After dancing for some years and various styles, I can honestly say that you do NOT need a seniority, experience, status, accumulated years etcetera to be able to present yourself as a dancer. You dance? You are a dancer! Congratulations.

2nd Dance classes If you choose to attend classes for any reason; to know more about the style, to get exercise, to find peace, its a hobby.. you need to respect co-dancers. Again. Even if you would be the "best" dancer in the school or you have danced X-amount of years or you are in a crew, you cannot take space like you own the place, or walk in front of another dancer. Respect others. Believe in Karma.

3rd Learn the foundations I am the worst in this. When I freestyle, I want to do everything else (or my body wants to). Learning a dance style is like learning a language. You need to master the foundations before building your own style on top of it. It means millions of hours of repeating the same move. This applies to any style. If you skip the foundation the dance style looses its meaning. For example: English, if you do not know the basic grammar and have vocabulary, how can you have your personal way of speaking English? Omg you would sound Mongolian.

4th Enjoy! Have fun! There are people who have the grimmest face when dancing. Its about becoming the best (my personal experience). For years I danced 15-20 hours a week. Because I needed to be able to call myself a dancer. And I needed to become the best. But I had no goal, no one I looked up to, I didn't want to become a professional either...Then I lost motivation.
Have fun!! If you have a goal, try to reach it. But remember what brought you to your very first dance class or what made you groove the way you do. The more you enjoy, the better you get.

5th People are different There are the fanatics. Respect. Then there are all the people who come and go. Feeling based. Time based. Personal reasons etcetera. We co-live the community. Let's build it together. Everybody does not have the energy to put every breathing moment into dancing. But when dancing together, lets build the future of dance. Through foundations, por favor. Lets learn from each other.

6th A freestyle dancer and a dance class dancer are both dancers. Now I stepped on toes. These are two branches of dancing. Respect each other.

7th Anybody can dance or state an opinion. I am sorry to say this, and I am sorry to read people attacking each other for the opinions/styles they have. If I choose to dance Hiphop combined with Irish Dance steps (Mastering foundations), it is my way of expressing myself. Let me be.

Finally, dance is a veeeeeeery big word. Think about dancing as a tree. The tree is called dance. The roots are the foundations, the thing making dance what it is and the one keeping dance alive. The branches are the categories, sub-categories and styles. Finally leaves are the dancers. The tree is always growing, new branches are forming with new sub-branches and leaves. But dance cannot survive without the roots.

Peace
Heidi

Outono = PSL e Dia das Bruxas

Omg, it arrived. The fall. I was not sure how long I would be able to take the pressing heat. It is actually nice to have some semi fresh air in the lungs. I said semi fresh because it is nothing compared to the Northern fresh air. Fall is my favorite time of the year.





Lunch walk


Vertical Rain. Fall here is not only colorful leaves, but a never frickin´ ending vertical rain. Normal outfit consists of: raincoat, rubber boots, umbrella and a water proof hat. Never forget the outfit! Otherwise you will get soaked, sick and unhappy. Like me for the past week…

Fall equals to October which equals to Halloween which equals to Pumpkin Spiced Latte. PSL FOR LIFE!! I had already two of them. Not going to miss any chance to obtain more. October also means cold, which means that we (I) need an extra fat layer. Hello love handles. (Duly noted, the over consumption of PSL…)

Besides PSL, I love Halloween (Dia das Bruxas). That is why I organized a Halloween party at work. Because I cannot party in my own house (sensitive neighbors who own cats). I decided to benefit of work. HA. I am going to be dressed as Dracula at 8am sharp. (The party starts at 3pm). But a Vampire is always sharp...I can work on the red eyes by intensively staring at the computer screen for eight hours before the party. And then I travel home by buss. If someone stares too long I bite.

On the contrary to love handles (which will appear latest at Christmas), I bought a Jawboneup2, it’s an activity band alright. The smart device tells me when I have been sitting for too long. After 45 min it vibrates. I jump from my chair like a bolt of lightning and take a walk around the office. If someone thought I was weird before, now they certainly do (they don´t know about the band). Power walking back and forth. The up2 also measures my sleep, food consumption (paired with Lifesum) and overall steps during the day. It’s a-o-k. I am walking extra much this week because we are making cinnamon buns (korvapuusteja) on Saturday. I had cardamom from Finland.

 

On the pictures you see me power walking during lunch break, taking evidence (pictures) of the fall in Lisbon...  

Sweet Student Life Lisbon

I got you there, didn't I? Most universities will eat your soul.

I read somewhere (read: Marketeer) and I am not sure if I remember correctly (read: I lost the magazine) that Portugal invites about 10 000 exchange students this fall. Or invited already, since I am late to talk about this subject...

However, I said I do not write about my studies. But I write an informative text about Sweet Student Life Lisbon. I am inspired. Because I am sitting on my numb butt in the study room of my University, on a Saturday. Life is better now, after the first year. Thus, the story comes from what I have learned from co-students in various Universities.

When applying to Lisbon, you are informed about the sunny weather (last year it rained 2/3 of 9 months), the surfing (honestly, if you do not have patience to learn its not for you and you won't have time anyways), the parties (you are studying when you are supposed to be partying), school is nice (hahahhaa) and life is awesome in vintage houses (they are cold, moldy and leak). I have a sarcastic tone of voice. Since Lisbon was our (mine and everybody I knew) prison during the first year of studies.

But then life begun when summer came and Lisbon had an other vibe. It is a beautiful city with 1000000000 +3 things to do. You just need time to discover it yourself. And that happens when your nose is not in the books.

But what happened before? Studying = life. A whole weekend off? Nope. You have Skype meetings with team mates, read at the speed of light material for upcoming exams and write a PPT presentation with your toes. Time table: 8am-2am.
Then there is the vertical rain. But that is ok, because you are inside studying. But your house was constructed in the 1900th Century so your roof is leaking like a shower hose. The landlord(s) does not care as long as you pay your rent, and you have black mold. Which btw, destroys your clothes and causes severe allergic reactions.
Then you want to go out, but you cant. Since you are at school till 2am, because you need to deliver a bunch of papers. School is hard. How unfortunate that a day is only 24 hours long.

From my personal experiences, I was told I am not allowed to work during studies because I will not have time. I am a multitasker and wondered what this lady is babbling about, until school started. Farewell life.

I am giving you a sweet peace of advice. Prepare yourself mentally to study when you are in Lisbon. The study culture might be the complete opposite from what you expected or what you were used to.
Eventually you will come out as a winner: master of stress handling, master of multitasking, master of free-riding school projects, master in having no life, master in drinking coffee machine pingado... MSc in Science is what you have on the final diploma.

Please let my diploma fly (not out from the window) in future job opportunities. I am a soldier.

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O importante é chegar a horas

Its important to arrive on time

 

I was taught in school that “the English like to queue”. Man, you should see the Portuguese buss queue. People stand in line like tin soldiers. Each one has got approximately ½ -meter distance and the line is 200 m long! “Hajurako”, you know. We Finns like to keep our distance aka. do not come too close or we´ll dislike you. Much. So I am happy with the bus queue tradition. Especially in the morning.

School started this week. And the Portuguese transportation system has not impressed me.
(Read: I would like to kick the bus, the driver, or someone on the arse) Although, the public transportation has got very impressive advertisements hung around Lisbon with the motto: "O importante é chegar a horas" – It´s important to arrive in time, they fail to keep their promise.

The concern is articulated by a short (almost hobbit) blonde Finnish girl who is very precise with time. And when she has to walk in high heels on cobblestone road 2 km to the second bus stop she is not very happy... Nor are her blistered toes. Poor babies…

Bus number 723 is THE place to be at 7am, according to retired avós of my neighborhood. (Avó - grandma/-pa and its the same word). Every morning, same faces, nobody going to work (except me), socializing about this and that. They are too impatient to sit so they fly around the buss, mingling like crazy. YOLO. If you die, you wont die young.

Every morning for the past two weeks the bus has arrived on different times, leaving some times undone. Once I RAN to the bus stop, with my lunchbox and bag and clothes halfway on… and found the bus driver (who was supposed to leave on the very moment: NOW) sitting casually in the cafeteria close by, sipping an espresso.

I told a colleague that I am going to call the transportation company and complain. She laughed at me like it was the funnies thing I have said. Ever. 

 

 

 

 

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Brunch Electronik in the park

Sunday went by trying out a recipe from Fitmencook, writing thesis (not true at all.. the wall becomes extremely interesting when its time for studying) and stomping to really good deep house with some cool peeps..

Sunday was a fun day. 

Clumsy as I am, I fell in the stairs some days ago and hurt my ankle. It literally looked like I had an egg underneath the skin.. and then I had to be representative at work.. which I did, minus the part that I was wearing a compression sock with a dress. "Finnish fashion" -I told everyone. 

Tomorrow I am going on a contemporary class. I am either going to look like a wounded scarecrow or something similar to a-OK. Time and ankle shows. 

Back to Sunday. (Fun day!) Brunch Electronik is the coolest Sunday event I have experienced so far! It's at the Agricultural University in the middle of nowhere, but in the city centre. The ground at the event had hay for horses and there was powdered sand in the air. The atmosphere was chilled and the music was oh so deeeeeeep, umptsumptsumpts. 

I had a wine, which after I had to pee. Logically. So I skipped happily downhill to the outhouse thingy you have at festivals. All good so far. Fancy lady, as I am, I managed to be clean in a dirty environment until my hand touched wet PEEEEEEEE. Eeeeewwwwww. No disinfecting gel around, nothing!? I walked with my hand stretched out like I had the  plague until I met a kind spirit who understood my concern and gave me some clean wipes. That hand was obviously not going to be anywhere near my face again for the rest of the night. Pee-hand. 

Back to the group of cool UG (under ground) peeps. All of them German, which of half I have not met before. Well, my name is technically German. So everybody naturally thinks I am German. And speak German to me and around me, if in a circle. Because I seem German. Tactic: smile and wave, smile and wave. 

That's it for now. Pee-hand is thoroughly disinfected and belly is full of extremely good chicken-quinoa. 

Obrigada e boa noite! 

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Gymtastic Portugal

Sit tight folks, this is funny... for the Finns.

Ok, so it sounds like this is going to revolutionize your world. It's not. Portuguese people go to the gym, like the Finns.

During my last visit to Finland I noticed the "fit" culture. People of all ages are in very good shape. I suppose it is for "the summer". In this case, IF the sun comes out during the two Summer months Finland has got. You can never be too prepared!
Meanwhile in Portugal, where the sun has been intensive for the past four months and you practically live on the beach, people have floppy bellies and eat potato chips, cookies and other such things for lunch. A swear word for the Fit-Finland culture. If you eat a potato chip and not a goji berry. YOU TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE.

So back to the gym. Working out is fun, the people around you are fun, the place is fun. But mind me the crazy Brazilian Personal Trainer who sometimes persuades me to train with him, which after I cannot feel my legs, arms..face.. toes..fingers. Once he carried me away from training area because my legs did not respond. This is good, in his opinion... myself have severe pain and the usual, toilet seat sitting-standing issue.

To the shower. Flip-flops is a must. In Finland I have not experienced the mandatory flip-flop issue. In Portugal, you are considered a very filthy person if your bare feet touch the floor. Not even the two second rule applies. So you are very contagious if you touch the floor. Like the hot lava game when we were kids, the floor burns!
However, contrary to good old Finland, it is completely normal to depilate every single hair on your body in the shower. And leave it there. To clog the drainer. Now I see why we need flip-flops...

To the sauna. It's a common workout and stretching area. When the Finn is sitting post-workout in the sauna breathing the hot air in and sweating out the stress of the day, the Portuguese is doing push-ups and abdominals beside you..or yoga.. or drying his sweaty workout clothes. It is also common to throw a liter of water on the stones, and then sit on the lowest bench or on the floor, and casually eat a post-workout meal. Or escape the sauna altogether and leave the Finn inside. SISU.

Otherwise, I love my gym and I am willing to recommend it to anyone visiting Lisbon looking for a good workout. I can even hand you over to the Brazilian Personal Trainer.. he will make you cry for mommy.

Beijinhos!


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Life of a sloth

My weekend has passed by in a blink of an eye. I am still as tired as FriYEY when I came home from work.. ahhh had a cold beer on the balcony enjoying the fresh evening air, and well... then I passed out. Of sleep, not alcohol, duh.

I do not want to wake up tomorrow at 6am. Nope, not ready to be an adult again after pretending to be a sloth all weekend. Chillen' around, drinking some Somersby and enjoying explicit company over an organic pizza and miradouro.. A miradouro is a view point. We have several in Lisbon, and they are just lovely.

The blonde is back. This weekend I managed to download 4 apps, all paid. Not learning from my previous mistake, I repeated it (as said before: blonde).. I think it is misleading though that Appstore does not show prices on products when you are using your mobile.. Then I think its free, and oh well.. you know the rest. So I downloaded: 1.Fit Men Cook 2.Deliciously Ella 3.Omvana 4.Moldiv

1. FitMenCook: My nutritionist (yes, I have one) told me its good for nutritious food. My IBS cuts back what I can eat, so I am trying to learn new combos. And also force mister SwagN to try to eat something else than caveman food every day. He is not happy about my attempt. Meat is the salad of the man. 

2.Deliciously Ella: She makes lovely food. Again, the IBS. I can't eat gluten or lactose, nor many other random things. If you want to learn to make carrot soup in a new way, check her out. Myself, cooked Pea, Broccoli and Almond soup. Ok, it looks like a witches poison, but anyway.. u got the idea.

3.omvana: I am a nervous person. That is also related to my IBS condition. Stress makes me overreact... So I downloaded a meditation app. I tried to meditate. But I ended up screaming with laughter when I was thinking of what I look like. Bit hungover, sitting crosslegged on the living room rug, swaying, hair like Einstein and my green soup splashed over my shirt.. trying to fokus.. a sight for sore eyes.

4. Moldiv: !? I wanted to edit a picture and Jesus Christ, I had to pay for it too... -.-

PS. I linked some apps, so that you are not falling for the same blonde trap as I did.

Here's a picture from the weekend though, life of a sloth

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