I’m Dreaming of a Grey, Slushy Christmas

Thing is, you do not simply put up our Christmas tree. The number of heirloom baubles has now spiraled beyond any control, so the job takes almost all morning, and a good bit of the afternoon. Gives you time to think, too, though the blog’s industrious co-photographer stands firm by his remark that you cannot…

Year of the Wunderkammer- Best of Travels 2019

A Day at the Kunsthistorisches Museum. This year has been, strangely (or not so strangely, given the current state of affairs in the world) that of the Wunderkammer. Every now and then something related to cabinets of curiosities would pop up, most recently in Olga Tokarczuk’s Flights. Initially, I thought I did not like cabinets…

Procrastinator’s Log Stardate 1119

November is a terrible month. Its Finnish name, marraskuu, comes from an archaic word for its very nature. The word, a cognate of the Latin mors, is death. Everything is wet, cold, miserable. Golden leaves turn into brown mush, rain turns into humid air, which in turn turns into smog. November, not April, is the…

This is Not the Golden Age- Olof Palme House and Párizsi Udvar

I occasionally (as in, frequently) have questionable ideas, and one of these was jogging to the polling station a couple of weekends ago, keeping my fingers crossed that the chilly weather would allow me to be fairly presentable, both visually and odour-wise. I either succeeded, or the ladies in the electoral commission have by now…

Procrastinator’s Log Stardate 1019

As I am writing this, as always, very procrastinated procrastinator’s log in the evening (or late afternoon, but since winter is coming they’re fundamentally the same dark thing), it’s only polite that I should greet you with a warm good ebening. I will readily admit that I find this little compilation hilarious, while at the same…

Autumn Lament for a Lost Budapest

One of the reasons why I love going to the baths at ungodly hours of the morning is that it’s the time of The Locals. The Locals are generally late middle aged to ancient, mostly men (a typical group would be four male friends or a group of three men and one woman), with a…

How a Lute Creates the World- Josef Van Wissem @ A38

The boat shimmers in the distance, neon reflections over the Danube on an eerily balmy October evening. I always feel a thrill when I get off the tram at Petőfi Híd, Budai hídfő- the name itself has become synonymous with intimations of happiness, hours of respite from the madness of our world, swaying on the…

The Roofs Have Eyes-Daytrip to Sibiu

To stop Romanians from ruling the world, God gave us a geographically perfect country. With no highways. And the chronic inability to build them. Yet when we set off on our short but sweet daytrip to Sibiu, we decided to ignore this dark curse and pretend that the 50 kilometres still lacking from the by now…

Procrastinator’s Log Stardate 0919

So I decided I’d start this entry with a bombshell and confess that, as opposed to basically all of my friends and acquaintances who give a toss about cinema, I didn’t like the new Tarantino. (I am however not alone, and as such I quite enjoyed this mildly incendiary little piece by Paul MacInnes.) Nor…

Me on My High Horse- A Visit to Troy

I would love to say that, as a half decent humanities major, I spent some of my profligate youth reading the Iliad and the Odyssey, but the farthest I got was borrowing one (can’t remember which) from the library, then procrastinate reading it, then forget to take it back on time, then pay a modest…