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The first time Martin Garrix came into my life I had just begun to listen to EDM. It was something I was trying to force myself into liking (yes, I went through some stuff really late in my life, let’s drop it now) so I didn’t really like it. However, I thought the kid, who was 17 back then, was pretty cool and that he knew what he was doing. And his music stuck in my head.

A little later, I was crazy about his single Don’t look down (yes, once again, I went through some stuff really late in my life, let’s drop it now) and I started to really appreciate his work.

During his concert in Tomorrowland 2016, I experienced one of the happiest moments in my life, weird as it may sound. Although I was surrounded by a humongous crowd, I managed to get myself a little bit backwards so I could move (and breath) and I danced, jumped and sang like crazy, ignoring everyone and everything else, except for the stage, the fireworks and, of course, the music.

It felt like real freedom.

Today, DJ Mag named him the 1st DJ in the world.

There may be a lot of discussions and critical points about quality in electronic music. Regardless, the kid, who’s still so young, is able to keep thousands of people dancing and having fun for over an hour. That’s impressive.

You don’t have to be a fan of Bob Dylan in order to be a true literature… music (I got confused!) lover.

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Physiothings

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There is a problem which I don’t know if it is very common or if it only affects a small group of people. In any case, I belong to it, whether it has a numerous clausus restriction or not, although I’d rather not, as it brings me hard suffering.

Just as what happened yesterday, when, before going to bed, I had to stop by the bathroom, at the exact moment when my housemate arrived home from school. Once I sit in the toilet, I heard her asking me if I would take long. I said no and waited for her to go back to her stuff. No. She explained she really had to pee. I answered that me too, but I would be quick, and remained still, listening to her being almost but not completely silent on the other side of the closed door. Listening to me. Pressing me. Refraining my ability of doing what I had to do and to leave the bathroom free for her.

I tried really hard to find a polite way to tell her I needed her to get out of there, but fortunately I heard her walking to the kitchen. Finally, the relieve.

I try to be quick, people, especially in public bathrooms, but if you talk to me or if you glue your ear to the door, I am paralyzed. In deep agony.

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A male’s tale

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Yesterday morning, my water heater was broken.

It was not the end of the world, I managed to get clean and actually pretty, as I had been invited to a wine tasting after work, which I was kind of excited about, even though I think I am still hangover since last weekend.

The man who was going to fix it would show up at my place by the time I arrived from work, so it was early enough for the question to be solved before the wine tasting.

It was a perfect plan.

However, there was a big detail that didn’t work out: he said he would go there from 17h15, which, in the end, meant that I stayed home the whole evening, all alone, waiting for a man who never showed up nor said anything.

Story of my life, even when it refers to a water heater fixer.

None the less, when I went to bed, I figured out I had hot water again, after all, so it had fixed itself. I should give it a deep thought, because I am sure it must be a metaphor for something.

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Sprechen Sie Deutsch?

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Learning German was something I have been interested in for quite a while. I love speaking other languages (I am a translator, fyi) and it makes me a little bit awkward going to a country and not understanding what they say. Plus, my Godmother, whom I admired a lot, lived in Germany since I knew her, which made me really want to be able to talk to her in her chosen language.

It ended up never being possible, too unfortunately, but moving this new job offered me the possibility of learning German.

Stop! People have always warned be of how difficult it was. I shouldn’t have taken it as an overstatement. Really!

It may have some similarities with English, especially when they tell you “hey, note that Mach (which must be said “mah”) sounds like make”. Oh, yeah, that is obvious. Now that you told me that and I can make an inverse Biles move with my brain!

I’m only finishing unit 3, meaning that I didn’t even get to the declensions (that doesn’t scare me, as I studied Latin for 5 years, but we’ll see about that when we get there!). I have, however, got acquainted with the articles (der, die and das), which are completely random. There’s no rule for that nor any similarity with anything else.

Words are funny, though. German is, in fact, an interesting business language, but come on! How am I supposed to remember that früstücken means eating breakfast? My brain has a knot very hard to untie.

I don’t think I will ever be able to communicate in German, but at least… well, that’s pretty much just it. Continue reading

Quick breakfast – oatmeals

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I used to cook oatmeals in the oven: I’d make a large dose that would last me over than a week, so I’d keep it in a box in the fridge. This was until I started counting my macros and found out that I would take a lot of calories just at breakfast, not being aware of that.

So I started doing my oatmeals individually every morning, in the microwaves. I was a little suspicious of the outcome, but I got positively surprised! It is actually super easy, quick and tasty.

Ingredients:

  • 30 grams of whole oats (I buy the small ones from Lidl)
  • cinnamon
  • a hint of chili or vanilla flavour
  • water (I like them moist, so I pour enough water to cover it all)

Mix everything with a spoon and put it in the microwaves for about 30/40 minutes. After it, I spread some cashew butter, peanut butter or almond butter (I buy them at My Protein). Continue reading

Pourquoi Paris?

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Why this crazy love for Paris?

In fact, this is a very common story that is only special for me, I guess. It is an Erasmus tale, dating back to September 2007, when I landed in Paris for the very first time. It was rainy, it was dark, I was there for a whole school year all alone. I got terrified, regretting my decision and wanting to go back that exact moment.

Slowly, I discovered the most beautiful city I have ever been to, populated by so many different cultures and well-dressed people. I got to be a part of some of its traditions, I visited more museums and art galleries than never, I got to taste yummy foods and I had the great opportunity to frequently pass by wonderful places, the ones you see on tv and postcards but were, actually, part of my daily life. Slowly, it made me also grow up and discover myself.

However, Paris was not just that. It had a hidden bonus waiting for me at the end of my stay: it brought to me the true love of a meaningful part of my life. Even though our forever lasted six years and he might think of it as lost time, I don’t. At all.

So Paris means adventure, discovery, destiny and love. Cliché much?

 Years later, when I moved to Lisbon, to a new job, and was offered the opportunity to go often to Paris, I didn’t think twice. I said yes, because I believe we should go back to the places where we were once happy, no matter how much life had changed in the meantime.

Truth is… it has been an amazing experience. Sometimes I cry, I do, but out of happiness: past and present.

The last time I’ve been there, in the beginning of October, I went back to the Cité Universitaire, in the 14th arrondissement, where I lived in 2007/2008. On one hand, it was like I had never left, I felt home, I knew the ways by heart, I remembered everything. On the other hand, it amazed me how easily I had just assumed that it was mine, it was my daily life, so I had ignored the true beauty of it: the trees, the houses, the floors, the surroundings. It is too easy to do that: at first you get impressed, but with time you just forget how lucky you are, you lose the ability to truly appreciate what was offered to you.

Looking at Stade Charléty, standing in the middle of Boulevard Jourdan, I cried and laughed, because I was lucky enough to had lived in Paris when I was young. I just couldn’t figure out back then that it would probably never get any better than that. Or even as good as that.

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This was my big effort in order to avoid crying

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London chronicles – 4

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London, despite of my opinion on its beauty, was a going back to a painful past. Two years ago, back there, I entered to worst period of my life and I am just leaving it right now. I didn’t think I was ready to go back there just yet.

Call me crazy, but I decided I would go to the place I lived there, just to redo my daily steps, in an attempt to make amends with the past, with my decisions, with the world and, most importantly, with myself.

So there I was, in a Finchley Road just as I remembered it. The Tiger store I had bought some home stuff, the O2 mall with the Sainsbury’s market I used to go on a regular basis, the coffee shop I tried to work at once and… my house.

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It was never a home, I didn’t even make the necessary effort for that. It was just a house, full of shared bedrooms, where I used to cry every day during my stay in London. I couldn’t even enjoy our terrace properly. I just hated it. And I hated my life.

More than two years later, I stood there, in front of that door behind which there was my home, for a little while. I took some photos and I felt inner peace coming over. Under the London sun, I forgave me and the mean people and events that had brought me to the deepest unhappiness I have ever felt.

It was, indeed, the right moment to go there: I was ready for the shock and it pushed me forward.

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