Our gingerbread house is far behind the loft on Rochdelskaya in terms of parties. But yesterday was fun.
And today my head hurts. Champagne is always good but unfortunately affects the exhausted by a two-week sickness body badly.
Esther and Tommy are off to her parents' farm, which is six hours drive from Sydney. I stayed lying in the darkness of my bay window room with the blinds down.
Earlier this week Esther cooked a pot of chicken soup. With pearl barley and ginger. For me to get well quicker. Five litres of soup the consistency of thick porridge. Stick a spoon in the plate of soup — and it will stay there standing.
— I bought some chicken broth to add in it. To make it look less like cake, more like soup!
Marvellous. Here we go, we have seven litres of soup now. The three of us were fighting with it for three days in a row. «Don't forget to eat some soup!», — became the home joke of the week.
The whole soup situation became so serious, so Esther even discussed it her with mom on the phone. Mother said that we will all get salmonellosis if we'll kept eating the three-day stuff. So, we gave up and invited 10 people to dinner to get rid of it. We gonna boil it! Yeah.
But no one wanted soup, they all ate spaghetti. Which was obvious from the start (well, at least for me) — who wants to eat soup for dinner? Especially with pearl barley. Apparently, Australians have their own ideas about food. Because when I volunteered to get some dessert, Esther suggested vanilla yogurt with frozen fruits. Are you for real? Yogurt for dessert? After pearl barley soup?! Shall we as well chew some muesli?
There is a kindergarten across the road. The guard's name is Stefan. Feels like before there were no Germans in town, and now I'm surrounded by them. He is not only keeping an eye on the kindergarten but on all of us as well. Just to maintain ordnung in da neighbourhood. So he knows Esther's parking permit is soon to be overdue. By the way, my parking permit is not even on the way. Being here for 4 weeks and I'm too lazy to go to the council to get one. So if rangers will find my car parked here without the permission for more then 2 hours, I'll be fined. So our vigilant friend Stefan took my phone number, to let me know if the ranger will appear on the street, so I could move my car. And I only hope now that he is a gentleman and that kinda warning is the only thing I'll get from him on WhatsApp.
— Masha, we gonna leave at 6.30 am tomorrow. I promised Stefan I'll bring him some soup at 9:30. Can you do that please?
Of course, nobody went nowhere at 6 am after the party. And when I opened my eyes and became half-conscious at 9.36, Tommy was already cooing with Stefan on the other side of the street. With soup, of course. Not that I was going to take that bloody soup to the guard, but I was actually surprised Tommy wasn't joking about that.
— Mash, we will be back on Sunday. Could you please freeze some soup for me? And pour the rest. Or call your friends for dinner.
— You know what, Tommy… fuck off!