The Easter holidays are now ending, and people are returning from their family homes and celebrations. Such a strange ghost school we had these past days – you could easily be just a shadow in the hallway, a cup on the table – still warm, but almost empty. You could be the sound of footsteps – sometimes closer, but most of the time vanishing in the thin air.
And still there was just one spot that allured us all… one place that would not stay uninhabited – the kitchen. And we had the pleasure of experiencing the beginning of true brotherhood, when it came to making food and cleaning after – a community we were, almost a family, I’d say. But now it will end soon, and we will be banned from the kitchen, without the liberty of choosing whether to eat pizza, smoothie or pancakes for breakfast.
I have been slothful in my writing, I admit that. But your interest and friendly accusations of withholding the truth or weekly amusement made me consider recollecting some memories, that would have made a nice blog entry, but there was just too little time…or patience, or both. But maybe I should not linger onto the past… because only a thought of having to write everything down makes my eyelids lower [ also it is 0:52, a rebellious time to be still awake – at least for me].
This week things did not happen as I had suspected.
For a month I had planned a trip to Tølløse for Easter – a chance to escape from daily routine, a chance to spend my days with fellow Latvians, trying to re-learn my mother tongue, but two days before leaving I suddenly changed my mind, canceled the bus tickets and stayed at the school. Now, Volfgang, if you are reading this, the fact that you had some serious business to do was not the reason why I stayed, nor was the long trip – these were just small side effects, that helped me decide. Also Bjarke’s question, if I am staying, because there would be so little of us here, triggered the flow of thoughts. I was not trying to escape from the place, nor the people. I was trying to escape from the crowdedness that filled up every inch of the school even though the reunion was over. I guess that’s what you get coming from a country with 32 people per one square kilometer.
And so I stayed. We watched a lot of movies, danced, ate long breakfast that turned into lunch, led expeditions through woods and along small rivers – overcame obstacles, played the bridge game… and board games, took over children’s playground, made deserts, slept till midday – or mid-morning, drove to the seaside, made pizza, ate pizza, played football, played that weird wooden-stick game, sat on the roof, read books, painted, drew, wrote, worked on our feelings and so on.
You may hear stories about the trip to the Beach. But know this - I can navigate through woods, but the city is a different world.
Friends are unpredictable creatures, they can make spontaneous decisions that would and will change the route of your journey. That was the scenario of my Easter, and some other souls can relate, I guess.
I have a strange habit of inviting people to visit me in Denmark, and sometimes it expands and modifies into an open invitation to anyone who seems worthy of it (and apparently have nothing better to do). So after receiving a message that all that had to be done is done, I invited a Wolf into our home. Not that I knew he will accept the invitation and be in Odder 4 hours later.
Strange, how meeting a friend after months of living abroad can make your dragging legs into running feet. The amazement, although lasted for an hour or two, was mind blowing – how can I possibly not be capable of speaking my mind in my own language? How is it possible that a location can twist your mind into thinking that only one language is acceptable here? The same thing happened, when Richard came to the Reunion, but I didn’t talk to him that much. This sensation made me realize that another blog entry is on its way – an entry in Latvian.