Baby Development Tracker. Baby Teething Early.
FROM THE "ROAD NOTES OF MAVEN": Road To European Union
Image: Self-portrait- Car: Audi TT 2002 RS Image Credit: © Mavenimagery- ©Audi. maven's note:In 2002 Romania and Bulgaria virtually had no International highways. (Freeway, Motorway, Autobahn and whatever you wanto call it) Gravel roads turn into dirt roads; to paths and rocky terrains. In 2003, Bulgaria and Romania were to be members of the EU. If you'd like to inform us of the changes and development, please, feel free to do so. If there is a country that saves money on road, street, residential or any sign for any purpose, is Bulgaria. If you’re in residential area and driving to find your friend Evdokiya or Fidanka, you’ll have to ask direction orally, personally from street walkers who may or not speak any other language but Bulgarian, Russian and even Turkish but not any of Anglo-Saxon languages. I stop and puke not because I saw the sign that says,‘ Sofia 350km’. But, I’d been trying to Google map my destination for almost an hour and found nothing! And I’ll find no sign of sort until the end of the 350km. Godspeed! I buckle up and slam on the accelerator, tires spitting pebbles backwards, disappearing in the twirly dust, and I laugh, “Is this the rough road? Oooh, the gravel road of death! Overlords! You screwballs almost got me. Rough road, eh? Hahah! Roll back to Cyber Internet Zone, Frankfurt Chris throws his fine Italian leather briefcase on one of the empty chairs and heads to toward the bar, I call out to him for a Heineken, not that out of love this brand but I know they don’t have what I want, beer or liquor-wise. This is a Cafe, but let me make this clear: this is a cafe in Frankfurt. I’ve been to so many and I’ve learned a lesson at my own expense. Russian Tea Garden. Japanese Tea Garden and the list goes on. You’ll be offered a variety of herbal tea the first five minutes of your arrival and by five-minutes-twenty seconds, a hard body Russian blonde or an Estonian, Romanian Pamela Anderson will materialize on the bar-stool next to you. “Hey, there handsome,” she will say with an almost flawless English. “Wanna buy me a drink?” Dumb and naive the person that you are, you’ll be knocked off of your feet, and you’ll blurt,” A chamomile tea for Mein Fraulein, bitte,” The Dyke-Face (very seldom a male) bartender will say irritably, “Have to buy her a drink not a tea. OK? Have problem, you talk to him”. She’ll gesture to grotesque looking-grew-up-near-a-nuclear-plant-man so-called “Order and Maintenance”. “Sure. No problem. Not at all. What would you like to drink…Miss?” “My name is Petra. I’ll have a Krupnik,” “A Krupnik?” Cool, yet odd name. You’ll think of a Russian Space Shuttle of Sputnik, and this is where’ll you realize your ass is strapped to a Space Shuttle Krupnik and the Launch countdown has begun… “Yes, dear,” Petra will explain in a sweet tone and accent. The hard-body is trained by a freelance ex-KGB scooter. “It’s a Lithuanian cocktail. Krupnik is a sweet vodka made from 40%-50% alcohol, honey and up to 50 herbs. Krupnik is usually mixed with vodka, champagne or other liquors”. “Sounds like a killer,” You’ll stammer. “56.90 Euro, bitte” the dyke-Face will ask up front, and her raw, tobacco and alcohol-ridden hoarse voice will snap you into reality. “Credit card or cash?” As she glare you in the eyes, a shiver runs down your spine. You freeze, as her beady expressionless and menacing eyes locked with your baby's day-out-innocent-eyes. She’s the beast in the Beauty and The Beast; not necessarily, you’re the ‘beauty’, but, say, a bit more appealing than her even if you have Mick Jagger’s ‘Horse face’. She’s the witch in Cinderella; She’s the Freak creation of Dr. Frankenstein…You? Just another unexposed to reality bites of life who grew up with a nick name ‘Infant terrible’, and not because you were a trouble child done nothing more than terrorizing gutless kids during your childhood then have become a CEO in a fast food chain management, growing a paunch and a double chin. The last time you’ve got laid was five Sabbath or Christmas Eves ago. Now, you’re in ‘Fool’s Paradise”; in the Whore n More Capital of Deuchchland, Frankfurt…where the ‘F’ stands for ‘F***k’. “You take Amex?” Amex? Dumb ass! It’s like asking a Wolfe whether he accepts a baby sheep for a dinner. Now, she, The Hoarse-Voice, is in possession of your credit card…this is where a vague voice in the back of your head will tell you, You’re screwed beyond reparation. After a few sips (those goddess-looking Vampires are trained to a perfectionist time trackers and you don’t want to waste their time) Petra, her not-fake-tits half-exposed, her blue eyes penetrating, will say, “Let’s go get more private…in the back”. Your ass is at a final countdown …5, 4, 3 Will continue...Baby on Hipstamatic tour 2011 -
Metroen, Copenhagen. Our connection to Copenhagen. This is almost one picture per day while I was on parental leave for 12 weeks with my youngest daughter Sigrid. She sleeps in almost every picture. My aim was to document my whereabouts in this period. As you can see the pram was around town. When she woke up we would sit in a cafe and enjoy a banana and play with some toy. Eventually she learned to crawl and this whole baby development thing was very enjoyable. I got to experience a milestone in Sigrids life first-hand. Yay! Pictures are snapped with iPhone 4 app Hipstamatic, set on random. I think these filters adds an interesting glow and flare to the routine of walking. At least this made me happy. Colors in an icecold winter is always welcome.
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