Sunday 15th January, 2023
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The Lieven family in Sofia, Bulgaria.
Apparently taken in 1938 before the German and Russian invasions. The only photo I have of my mother and her family together. From left to right - front row; my mother Elena, her great grandmother Olga Stachovich (her mother's mother), her father Andrei Lieven, her mother Sophie Stachovich holding her youngest brother, Nicky (Zuka's father).
From left to right top row: oldest brother Alexander (Sasha) then Olga who became a nun and Mother superior, then an unknown man and the two girls on the right from left to right are Dara the other nun (and nurse) and my darling Aunty Masha, the youngest sibling. The Second World War and communist take over of Bulgaria would separate them forever. |
Good morning friends and readers. Christmas seems like a memory and life is back to normal again. We are now into the middle of January. In Spain, January is often referred to as "la cuesta de enero" which roughly translates into "uphill January" or "post holiday budget crunch" according to Google. It usually refers to finances, after spending a lot in December but also to people's moods. It's difficult to adjust to back to normal after so much revelry and overeating.
Last Sunday 7th January was a grey, cold and rainy day. On that same day in 2021, 2 years ago, our new guest, Felipe Turover, arrived. We had no idea the trouble he would cause. He was Russian and it was Russian Christmas which is quite a coincidence .Thankfully that chapter in our lives is over. I do wonder, sometimes, though, what has become of him.
The same day he arrived, snow began to fall big time. We had no idea we would experience the biggest snowfall in Madrid since 1971 - 52 years ago now. It was 2 days later that we woke up to a winter wonderland, the sort you see in countries like Finland or Canada but not Spain. I had never seen anything like it in my adopted country. Facebook reminded me of it this week. Later I looked at my photo file of Filomena and was wowed at the photos, like the one below. Just look at me, knee deep in the snow in our garden.
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| 2 years ago this month Madrid saw its biggest snowfall in 50 years. |
On our walk we remembered it but also spoke about our upcoming road trip through Europe to Asia in the spring. We are still deciding when to go; either April or May. May is my favourite month of the year. It is a month of long days of sunlight with the summer to come when it's still not too hot. January, on the other hand, is my least favourite month. I hate the cold and grey skies and am happy I made the decision to move to Spain so many years ago where we get more sunshine than any other country in Europe, usually. It was in 1981, nearly 42 years ago, that I made the decision and here I am still happily married to the man who was behind that decision, the man I married in 1983, my dear husband Eladio.
So January always gets me down a bit but I had good news that day, more guests coming which always gives me a lift as January is not normally a good month. I already had a German guest coming who would be accompanied by a friend the next day. Then I got a sudden reservation from a family of three from China who are moving to Spain. They came on Tuesday and are using our house as a base to find more permanent accommodation. Then, Miguel, our mounted policeman, made a sudden reservation and arrived late that night. That made for 6 guests this week which is quite a record for this time of year. Pilar came on Friday and Miguel will be back on Monday. The sudden influx of new guests has had us all busy, especially Lucy. But it also means I have met new people, from Germany and China which has been interesting for us. I do love receiving our guests from all over the world and for so many different reasons. That, I suppose, has something to do with my own very multi cultural background which has marked me all my life.
The afternoon was quiet and I spent part of it watching Season 2 of Happy Vallley set in Calderdale, West Yorkshire. I once told you it's called that ironically because of the amount of drug dealing and drug taking in the area; mostly Hebden Bridge. The story line is great as is the script and Catherine, the main character, a Police Sergeant, played by Sarah Lancashire, who, by the way, is from Lancashire is a fabulous main character. I am loving it. I love the fact that it is set in Yorkshire as everything is so familiar, especially the dialect and architecture. In one of the episodes a dead body is found in Baiting's reservoir near Sowerby Bridge which I visited with Simon, Gill and Amanda last November.
It was interrupted by a scheduled Skype call with my dear friends Sandra (Brussels) and Adele (in between Orleans and Vannes in France). We spoke for over an hour and tried to fix a reunion this year which we didn't manage as Adele has so much on her hands these days.
My last non diet supper was a bit of left over Spanish omelet followed by the last of the Christmas sweets - "turrón". The next day, Monday, would be the start of "life back to normal" and my diet.
I woke up late on Monday morning. The main news was the assault by pro Jair Bolsonaro followers on Brazil's most institutional buildings in Brazilia while both he and the newly elected Lula were not there. It reminded the world of a similar assault on the Capitol in Washington also in January and also 2 years ago.
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| Pro Bolsonaro rioters assaulting Congress in Brazilia last Sunday |
By the time I woke up on Monday morning, the assault was over, the rioters detained and their camps set up months ago, dismantled. I think the Bolsonaro fans who, like Trump's fans, refuse to accept the electoral result of 30th October, were not just looking for a fight but were hoping for support from the military for a political coup. But who organised them is the big question?
The rain had gone that morning and the sky was blue, so a perfect day for our walk. It wasn't until we got back that I realised my phone was missing, my lovely Samsung Galaxy S20. I tried to retrace my steps before leaving the house and searched for it everywhere to no avail. Thus Lucy and I retraced our steps on the walk for a while hoping to find it when I remembered the last thing I did before leaving the house was to rummage in our big deep freezer on the ground floor in search of salmon for lunch which I didn't find. We rushed back and walked into the pantry but I couldn't see the phone anywhere. I even lifted the lid of the freezer and I couldn't see it. Eladio then decided to take our walk again there and back, again to no avail. Poor chap. I can't remember who said it but I decided to look in the freezer again and there is was tucked under some peas and covered by a packet of prawns. It had been there for more than 3 hours and I was sure it was a "gonna". I took it out and put it on my stomach. Suzy wanted to put it in the sun and Eladio, wisely, said to leave it on his desk. By then I had read to get it to room temperature and only then try to switch it on. I had also read that most smartphones these days are designed to withstand between -20 and -35ºc, so there was hope. Suzy who knows these things said the freezer would not be below 20ºc as otherwise food gets destroyed. An hour or so later Eladio switched it on and slowly and surely it woke up and was no worse for wear.
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| My frozen phone that came back to life |
I had read that extreme temperatures below zero could discharge the battery but it hadn't. I was overjoyed at having it back as it saved me about 1000 euros which is what a new phone would have cost, plus all the hassle of restoring everything. I was so happy I hugged Lucy, Suzy and Eladio. We are nothing these days without our phones.
Lunch was a bit of salmon with leek, etc and then it was quiet time, except that I was interrupted by the arrival of my Chinese guests. They, like many Chinese, have adopted western names. I thought it funny the father is called George like my brother and the mother Amanda like my best friend. Their 10 year old daughter is called Nancy. They had brought about 10 suitcases for their new life. But they had no car and only a Chinese phone without things like Whatsapp or more importantly, for them, Uber, to get around. I thus got George to send me an email as his only way of communicating with me if he needed something like a taxi. It took me a while to settle them in.
I then went back to watching Happy Valley until it was time for my Skype call with Amanda. I told her all about my frozen phone (hahaha) and my Chinese guests named George and Amanda.
Everyone was in the kitchen when I went down for dinner; our 2 German ladies asking for tourist information which I gave them and George and family making the proverbial Chinese tea. We had a quiet - 'diety' - dinner in the dining room.
Tuesday dawned, the day of the official release of Prince Harry's book Spare. He had been interviewed by ITV and other, mostly, US, media the night before but for it was the same old story. Even so I had ordered it and on Tuesday morning it was available on my kindle. I later read that in one day 400.000 copies had been sold. That's an awful lot but paltry compared to the other Harry (Potter) books which sold in their millions. What do I think so far? The best part is reading his own words which are of course ghost written so they may not be his own words but they are his own ideas. When he talks about killing the Taliban like chess pieces or about his 'willy' (his member, not his brother), I just wonder if he had any advice whatsoever. Some of it I can relate to and understand - the devastating death of his mother. Other bits I can't, like the size of his bedroom at Balmoral. Frankly he is not the only subject to sibling rivalry; we all are. So I just wish he would realise how privileged he is, still. But my biggest take away is that you don't wash your dirty linen in public. At least, that is how I was brought up. And, that, is what he has done. He was also on lots of TV programmes being interviewed but my VPN wouldn't let me see the ITV interview. I get the feeling those who interviewed him did not grill him enough but then again he chose them. For someone who hates the media, especially the tabloids, all he is doing is further feeding the beast. Funnily enough, even he recognises this. So why did he do it? I still don't know - money, a way of getting things off his chest - cathartis. Only he knows and Megan of course. His mother would have been appalled and his father, the King, must too, but then both of them went down that same route on the BBC in the 80's. So, he is only following in their footsteps.
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| Finally "Spare" is out |
Spare and the interviews with Harry dominated the UK papers this week which is a bit sad if you think there are far more important topics; mostly the damaging strikes in the UK and the state of the NHS. Of course Harry is not affected by any of this nor would he be if he had stayed in Blighty. Why? Because he is from the very top of society, where his ever need is cared for, at least physically. However, he may have suffered in his new hometown, Montecito, 2h from Los Angeles, where there was a huge storm this week and inhabitants were evacuated. But I bet his sprawling 5 million dollar mansion can cope with that. Does he not realise just what a privileged and rich kid he is compared to the rest of the world? His problems are nothing in comparison and that is my other take away. Stop whingeing Harry and get on with life by doing something a bit more useful than filling the tabloids with stories of your "willy" or fights with "Willy". Having said that, I am feeding the beast too by reading his explosive biography. That's because I love the minutiae of what goes on behind the scenes at Buckingham Palace; precisely because of the mystique created by the Royal family of what really goes on out of public sight.
No doubt on Tuesday, Harry, was being given feedback on the reaction to his book. I just read a few lines and got on with my morning which consisted of our lovely crisp and sunny walk. I also did some fruit shopping. You should just see the huge juicy oranges and mandarins I bought at less than 2 euros per kilo. I filled the kitchen and dining room with them and would go back for more later in the week. Lunch was just Eladio and I and then our treasured siesta where I fell asleep reading Spare - oh gosh. We were interrupted by the arrival of the "kids" (grandchildren) who came for a while with their mother. At about 6 pm when they left, you had me texting with my mounted policeman guest who is returning next week for 5 nights. It will be his 4th or 5th visit but I only met him the first time he came.
That had me updating my accounts for our bookings. Eladio was poring over maps of Europe for our road trip. I have a file called "The trip of our life". If last week my husband said he thought 3 countries would be enough and I persuaded him otherwise, this week he said it would be too much to drive from Istanbul to Tibilsi (Georgia). I am in the process of persuading him otherwise again. I also pored over maps. Just in case then I went and bought the only road map of Europe I could find on Amazon .
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| Just bought this on Amazon for our road trip |
We will use sat nav of course but I think we will need it. It is A3 so will be huge but I prefer it that way. Our biggest problem in planning our route is that we know very little about the Balkan countries. I couldn't even find one on Amazon, just on google. This is what I found and it is helping enormously.
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| Map of the Balkans |
We printed out a landscape copy each and bingo it all came alive. When I did geography in the 70's with Miss Fair at St. Joseph's College, Bradford, most of it was former Yugoslavia and the capital was Belgrade. Today it is divided into 6 or 7 countries if you include Kosovo. These are: Slovenia, Croatia, Bosnia and Herzegovina, Serbia, Montenegro and Macedonia. I knew all the capitals except for Montenegro. Ever heard of Podgorica? Also belonging to the Balkans are Romania, Albania and Bulgaria. I don't suppose we can see everything in a month or month and a half but we shall see a lot.
I also downloaded a map of Turkey where I could see exactly where the borders to Armenia, Georgia and Azerbaijan are. And I googled the distance from Istanbul to Tibilisi and it's 1600km. ChatGP then told me we cannot pass the border from Turkey into Georgia with a private car and the only way to get to the latter is through the border with Armenia. I dream of visiting this area, the foothills of the Silk Route. Eladio pointed out that Turkey is 1.6 times larger than Spain so there will be a lot of driving. Well, I know that and it doesn't put me off.
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| I want to get as far as Georgia |
For the moment we are dreaming and planning. Once on the road there maybe other plans and lots of detours. We shall see. Meanwhile, it's fun planning.
Our day ended with a quiet dinner in the kitchen with no signs of our German or Chinese guests. My night ended watching episode 1 of Season 3 of Happy Valley. I was gutted the rest is not available yet.
It rained again on Wednesday which was unexpected but I suppose good for the reservoirs. Thus we skipped on our walk. Instead I worked on our road trip, concentrating on a stop in Sofia.
One of the main points of interest for me on our road trip is a stop in Sofia, Bulgaria. Why you may ask? Well, because that is where my mother's family exiled to when they fled the Russian revolution. That is where they set up home. My mother lived there - apart from 4 years at school in France - from about 1921 to 1944 when she fled the Red Army which marched into Bulgaria in September 1944. She fled to Germany as a refugee with two of her brothers, Sasha (the oldest) and Nicky (the youngest). She left behind her adored father, Prince Andre Lieven, a Russian Orthodox priest, her mother, Sophie (Sonia) and sister Olga (the oldest of the three sisters) who had became a nun. That day I dug out lots of photos like this one of my grandfather who I never met.
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| My grandfather: Lieven Andrei Alexandrovich 1884-1949 |
I also found the only one I have of the whole family including the 6 siblings, 3 boys and 3 girls; Sasha (Alexander), Olga, Dara, Elena (my mother), Nicky and (Aunty) Masha. That had to be this week's photo of the week. They had already fled Russia in 1920 but WW2 and the subsequent communist take over of Bulgaria would separate them forever. My mother was only able to return 46 years later! Imagine. I have inherited that family tragedy. It is something that lives with me and is a reason I have to include visiting Sofia on our trip. But back to the family when they lived in Bulgaria.
It was a strictly religious Russian Orthodox family. Olga wanted to become a nun from a very early age and later became a mother superior and was known as Matushka Serafima. My mother loved her and called her a saint. Mummy was rather a difficult girl and Olga took her into hand and even made her take her vows to become a nun. Later when she met my father she had to ask her sister permission to revoke her vows. This is Olga as a very young nun. She was, apparently, very beautiful.
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| Princess Olga Lieven - my mother's older sister who became a nun and Mother Superior known as "Matushka Serafima" |
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| The convent |
All this was during Stalin's repression. My mother also left behind her beloved youngest sister "Aunty Masha" who was just 17 at the time. Masha later was able to defect from Bulgaria in 1959 and the two closest sisters were reunited. Her beloved father died in 1949 so she never saw him again. Her mother was allowed out in the 60's and she was reunited with her too. But, she had not seen Olga or been "home" since 1944. In 1990 and in 1992 after the Iron Curtain fell, 46 years later, my mother was able to go back to Bulgaria. I knew that and knew about the amazing reunion of the 4 sisters - Olga, Masha, my mother and Dara. Dara had left for Sofia for England before the war to become a nurse at St. Thomas' hospital London and after the war went to Canada and from there to New York where she too became a nun. In 1990 the 4 sisters were to meet for the first time since the war. As my mother told the local paper (Telegraph and Argus - Bradford) "we parted as young girls and only met again as old women". These words haunt me. I met all my mother's siblings except for Olga and this trip will somehow make up for that.
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| The four sisters reunited in Bulgaria. From left to right: Masha, Olga, my mother Elena and Dara |
So, keen to visit Sofia I had to know where to go. I want to visit my mother's house, my Aunt Olga's convent as well as my grandfather's church and see his grave. My father had type written two diaries he wrote of their journeys in 1990 and 1992. So on Wednesday morning I dug them out from my now relatively well organised family archive and sat down and read them.
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| Extract from my father's fascinating diaries - the page where I learned where my Aunt Olga's convent is located. |
I had read them years back but not with an eye to visiting Sofia or searching for my mother's roots. Oh how I loved reading every word. I love my father's script and his descriptions - he comes alive to me. He concentrates mostly on observations of scenery, a huge focus on languages, food, prices, the dreadful state of Bulgaria after the fall of the Iron Curtain and the lingering Soviet influence. He can be quite funny at times. I love the story he tells of their journey back and an exchange of conversation with my colourful Aunty Masha: "When the Yugoslav officials were examining our passports Aunty M. asked for help in replacing our suitcases, saying she had fought with Tito's partisans. The request caused him to smile slightly, but no help was forthcoming". My Aunt really did really become a Tito partisan in WW2, leaving home with her friend Nina. I think it was more an adventure but a very scary one for a teenager. She did though, learn Serbian which helped that day. In their subsequent trip in 1992 which this time was by air and not by train, I loved reading my father write this from Terminal 2 at Heathrow on their way out: "The departure lounge is an extremely cosmopolitan area, a great place for language identification". Most people would probably talk about the shops and restaurants but what interested my father most was the languages being spoken. At the end of their second trip he writes: "I enjoyed the trip to Bulgaria and would like to go there again. I sat through hours and hours listening to conversations in Bulgarian with Mummy translating from time to time. I understood the gist quite often because it is in some ways similar to Russian with quite a mixture of Turkish and Greek words".
At one point he says sorry for his lack of emotion. I had always hoped for a long description of the meeting of the 4 sisters but it simply isn't there. There is not one word about my mother's feelings going back "home" after more than 40 years, what it was like to be reunited with her sisters, to see her best friend Violette Tomova (later became a top Olympian fencer) from the French Lycée in Sofia - he does say though that at their first reunion they sat together talking non stop for 7 hours. He adds that instead of speaking Bulgarian which was more natural for them, she and Violette spoke in French for his benefit. What this trip must have meant for my mother I can only imagine. But I did glean important information - where the "nunnery" as he calls it is and more importantly where the family lived; both on Ulitsa Dante 8 (second floor) and Tolbukhin Street. I looked up the former on Google maps and the place looks very run down. You have to remember my mother's family left all their riches and worldly goods in Russia when they fled and arrived penniless in Sofia. They went from riches to rags. My mother and brother Nicky once asked my grandmother, "Babushka Sonia", what it was like to be rich and then become poor. Her answer was this: "when I was rich I didn't notice it and when I was poor I was too busy to notice it". As to where my grandfather's grave is, there is no mention but I know it has to be at his church, the only Russian Orthodox one there is, the Church of St. Nicholas.
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| The Russian church in Sofia - St. Nicholas - where my grandfather was the parish priest |
I dug out a very unfocused photo of the grave and this is it. It is thanks to my dear Aunt Valya - RIP - (married to my mother's youngest brother Nicky) that I have the photo.
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| My grandfather's grave |
I shared all this with my dear friend and genealogist, Andy, who did our family tree. He went as far as to examine the inscription and get the Russian Church Slavonic translated by a contact at the British Library. It is a verse from the Gospel of St. Matthew - "
Blessed are the merciful for they shall obtain mercy". That must have meant a lot to my family. But he also pointed out to me that there is another person included in the headstone. It is my maternal great grandmother - my mother's maternal grandmother, Olga Stachovich. Her name is at the base of the gravestone. She travelled from Paris to Sofia in the hope of treatment for cancer but died there in 1938. My mother always told me how she found her dead reading in a chair, together with Olga. It must have been bizarre.
Researching my mother's roots in Bulgaria and reading my father's dairies was quite an emotional experience. Oh why I didn't I ask them more when they went? Oh why didn't I go with them? If I had I would have met Aunty Olga. But I didn't. I suppose at the time it was difficult. I was a young mother with two daughters and a very busy job. I was happy with my findings and cannot now wait to see these places with my own eyes. I only hope the convent is still open and a going concern as it was during my Aunt's leadership.
The rest of Wednesday pales in comparison. Of note, in the afternoon we went to Oli's house. It was to pick up a lovely white Ikea chest of drawers they no longer need for Juliet's room. It has been replaced with a wigwam which the kids adore. We thought it would be of use and look good in our bedroom and it does. Now I can move more of my stuff that has invaded Eladio's wardrobes over the years.
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| The new chest of drawers - thank you Oli. We love it |
Thursday dawned and I was up at 6.15 - a bit too early again. But later the sun came out which brightened my day. I was still thinking about my father's diaries and all I had gleaned .I think it was quite an emotional experience because over coffee with Eladio at Alverán I broke down in tears. He mentioned that on our trip - like the one in the UK to see my father's roots in 2019 - we would be seeing more graves. I broke down and told him that all I have are graves - no more family. They are ALL gone and I cried for them there in our favourite café for all to watch and not understand. It is difficult to explain. Do you understand? Why am I being so emotional or interested in past relatives? I think it has to do with my own very incredible multi cultural background with so much history. While crying, I tried to explain to my husband that I regretted not asking my parents more. Later we both reflected that our children - Suzy and Oli - are not particularly interested in all this family background but one day, when they are much older, they maybe. I hope I am around to tell them. At least I got some of the emotion off my chest. Do they realise just how multi cultural their own roots? Maybe not now, but maybe later.
Thursday included an invigorating walk my father would have loved, food shopping which he loved too and a nice lunch in the dining room. There are photos of him on the walls, the ones I used for his memorial events and they remind me everyday of his absence.
I spent a lot of the afternoon reading more of "Spare" and also watching Happy Valley. It's quite hard stuff. Later I saw my guests, the Chinese family and the two German ladies. Both the Chinese family have upped and left their country as has one of my German guests. George and Amanda told me they had done so - even selling their home - to give their daughter a better (private) education. Amanda said if if costs between 10 and 15 grand a year here, in China it is 4 times more. But they are having difficulty finding an apartment that suits them and their budget. Meanwhile they have prolonged their stay. They are very welcome and they seem to love me. Their 10 year old daughter, Nancy, in her pretty red tartan school uniform touched my hair and said I was blonde and beautiful. Bless her, who cried on her first few days at school because she misses her school, friends, her home. Of course she does. She also cried because her English is limited and of course knows no Spanish. But they are resilient people and I'm sure all will be fine. I am happy to help them too.
Friday came and was the quietest day of the week, the highlights being our walk, more of Happy Valley and a long Whatsapp video call with my dear friends, Phil and Kathy who are also from Yorkshire. I think of them a lot while watching the detective series filmed very near where they live. We had lots to catch up on and probably chatted for more than 1.5h. It was good.
It was Friday 13th but nothing unlucky happened. In fact we had some luck. As we are both retired we are now entitled to free public transport in Madrid capital and province. I had ordered my card online and that day ordered Eladio's. He is great with his hands but not so great with IT. He thinks I am very good at it but I well remember being told by a colleague once that I should be using a Fisher Price computer. That hurt so I do my best. It was a funny feeling ordering a free travel pass for retired people. It's funny too to think I have reached that stage of life when not so long ago I was a girl. So I had mixed feelings while ordering the free transport pass. On the whole though we both agree we are in a good place. My life might seem perfect to you when you read this blog but I assure you it is not, although I have less to complain about than most people and I always try to think on the bright side. That is something my father taught me and he had his fair share of bad luck but he always put one foot forward and got on with life, getting the most out of it. I like that lesson from him.
Saturday was quiet too and we only left the house for our walk. I spent part of the morning further researching our trip. I had conflicting information on how to cross the borders from Turkey into both Georgia and Armenia. ChatGPT (wrongly) told me that the border with Georgia was closed. That meant having to drive first to Armenia which didn't make much geographical sense. That's when I decided to ask the only Georgian I know, David, a guest who has been here 3 times. He immediately told me there is no issue with the borders - better from the Sarpi crossing - and no issue with driving from Georgia into Armenia. He also told me it was safe. Those words from him are what I hope have now convinced my husband to include the Caucasus. For me the trip would not be the trip of our lives without venturing there.
Sadly, that day I finished Happy Valley- having watched season two, part of season 3 that is still being broadcast and then watched season 1 again. Missing Sarah Lancashire, I turned to my DVD box set of Last Tango in Halifax where she plays a teacher in Harrogate. I had last seen it when I broke my leg in 2015 I think it was and she is marvelous. It's not just the character or characters and the script, it is the setting - Yorkshire - that draws me to these two wonderful series.
When I came down to dinner the kitchen was full. It always has been at about 8pm this week. George, Amanda and Nancy were eating their take away at the kitchen table and Anke, my German lady guest, was making her dinner alone now that her friend had left. We invited her to eat it with us in the dining room and that turned into a very interesting evening. Anke has decided to leave Germany and live in Spain for her own personal reasons and wants to go to the north coast. We have given her lots of tips. When asking her about her motives I found out she was born in Leipzig in East Germany years before the wall came down. I think she is the first East German I have ever spoken to about life under communism. She told us she never conformed although her family strongly did. Talking about the wall, she explained how the authorities sold it as protecting the people but she didn't buy that and wanted to see the world. Anke defected against her family's wishes just before the wall came down. Sadly they branded her a traitor. It was only years later that they could admit that the Soviets had told them lies - life was better in the west. I can completely relate to her life having being brought up on the Russian Revolution, WW2 and the Cold War stories since I was a child. I am in awe of the people I meet thanks to my little hospitality business. I really am. It brings in an income but also gives us the privilege of glimpsing into the lives of so many people from all the corners of the earth. My mother and father would understand that I know.
I am imagine you do too although some people think we are crazy taking guests into our own home. Ah but how enriching is the experience. Dinner last night was another enriching experience. Thank you Anke.
Today is Sunday and looks like it will be quiet again. Let's see what next week brings.
That's it from me now, cheers, Masha.
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