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La brocante
Ce matin, on a visité une brocante proche de chez nous. J'espérais y trouver quelques ustensiles pour remplacer ceux que j'ai cassés dernièrement (j'ai essayé une nouvelle recette, et la pâte était très dense, trop pour ma pauvre spatule et cuillère en bois). Je suis difficile pour trouver presque les mêmes (ou de meilleure qualité). Déjà, je n'ai pas trouvé à Intermarché, Carrefour ou Super U, donc je pensais, peut-être à une brocante ou vide-grenier. Cette recherche continue, mais j'ai passé un bon moment à la brocante quand même. C'est intéressant de regarder de vieilles choses, même plus d'un autre pays.
Il fait de plus en plus beau, donc un peu plus dur pour courir. Mais pour l'instant, je préfère quand même le faire à midi (ou proche). Je ne suis pas trop matinale, et je n'aime pas trop le faire le soir. C'est sûr je devrai changer en été, mais pour le moment, ça va.
Je me préparerai pour courir. Quand je serai rentrée, je prendrai une douche et ferai du travail pour le déménagement (le ménage, emballer des affaires...).
May 1, 2025
My Grandpa Is a Giant Schnauzer
Chapter Two — The Return
I couldn’t drag the boat ashore. My hands were shaking, and the water still pulled at it, as if trying to take it back. So I left it in the surf and tied it to the roots of an uprooted tree. It lay on its side, roots bare and bleached white like old bones. But it held.
I ran to where our house used to be. There was nothing left. Just wreckage: planks, twisted bits of roofing, shattered dishes. The sand was pale and damp, strewn with shells. Everything that could be carried away was gone. The sea had scrubbed the place clean, like it wanted to erase all traces of life.
I wandered through the sand, not even knowing what I was looking for. Where the stove once stood, water squelched underfoot. It wasn’t until I stopped that I realized — the dog was gone.
I heard him bark — sharp, desperate. He was calling. I bolted: what if it was Aunt Miryam? Maybe he found her?
I ran past the ruins of the old Mission. Only the pale foundation and scattered tiles remained. The dog kept barking farther ahead. Not toward people. Not that way.
I turned around a slope and saw him standing by a bare rock face. The wave had torn away the topsoil, revealing ancient stone beneath the sand. The dog was pacing, digging frantically with his paws, barking nonstop.
I crouched down. Thrust my hand into the sand. Beneath my fingers — metal. Cold, solid.
We dug together. He used his paws, I used my hands. The sand was heavy and wet. It clung to me, packed under my nails. I didn’t even know what we were looking for — just dug because he was digging, and because there was something buried.
At first I thought it was wood. But not like the wood in our hut. This was harder. Smooth, like it was greased. Then I saw the strips. Green, shiny. Metal. Nailed along the edges, and the wood was fused with them.
“Is this... a hatch?” I asked, though no one could answer.
It wouldn’t budge. We’d only uncovered half of it — the sand was too thick, too sticky. I pulled at the ring, but it didn’t move. The dog slipped and growled, like he was angry at the earth itself.
We needed a stick. I found one nearby — forked at the end, perfect for the ring. I leaned into it with all my weight. The lid creaked but only shifted a little before settling back again.
A memory surfaced: Grandpa, dragging a boat across the sand with a block. We had one on the boat. And a rope.
I had to go back. The boat was still holding on, rocking in the surf like it was breathing. The block was under the fishing gear, wrapped in rope. I grabbed everything and returned to the hatch.
I tied the block to a root, threaded the rope through the ring. Pulled once, then again — the metal groaned, rising slightly, and a breath of damp air escaped from below. It didn’t smell like the sea. More like a cellar. Too quiet.
When the gap widened, the dog bolted inside without a second thought. I shouted, but he was already gone into the darkness. I squeezed through the opening — there were wooden planks below. Wet, but intact. And dark. As dark as night.
I was about to climb down after him when he returned. Shot out fast, carrying something dark in his teeth.
He dropped it right at my feet — a pouch. Small, heavy, wet, tied with string. I picked it up. The fabric felt strange — thick, almost greasy. I squeezed it. Something clinked inside. Metal.
I undid the string. One end snagged under my nail, then loosened. Coins spilled out of the pouch. I picked one up. It shimmered, like the sun had touched it. Beautiful.
Then in my head — sharp, like it came from inside — a voice:
“Dropped 'em, you clumsy thing. Pick them up!”
I jolted. It wasn’t just a voice. It was the tone. That tone Grandpa used when I dropped something.
Not loud. But enough to stop everything inside me.
I looked up — the dog had frozen, ears perked. Did he hear it too? Or just me?
The coins were scattered on the planks, on the sand, gleaming like wet seashells. I dove to gather them — fast, like I really was a scatterbrain. My fingers trembled, like I’d done something wrong.
One coin wouldn’t come out—it had rolled a little further, into the shadow. When I finally reached it, I caught a strange scent. Not salt. Not dust. Something warm. Like tea back in the hut. Like sun-warmed wood.
I pressed the coins to my chest. They were warm. Not like metal in the sun — different. Like someone had just held them.
“Grandpa?.. Is that you?”
“Yeah.”
The voice was rough, clipped.
“Didn’t leave. Couldn't.”
I froze. Stared at him. His fur shimmered. His eyes — the same. Only deeper.
“But how?.."
“Turtle. Called me. I asked. To come back. Like this.”
The dog didn’t move. Just breathed. Quick, uneven. I looked at him — and I knew. No explanations. I just knew.
He suddenly lifted his head. Went still. Ears stretched.
I heard it too. A rumble.
Faint at first — like the sea rolling behind a hill. Then louder. A helicopter.
Real. With blades. That ripping-the-air sound.
""The hatch. Cover it," the dog said — sharp, inside my head.
We jumped into action. I grabbed the rope and pulled; he shoved the lid with his paws. It slammed shut. But the ground around it was torn and loose.
We started throwing sand — it stuck to my hands, flew into my eyes. The dog ran off and came back with a branch — dry, broken. We tossed it over the hatch and covered everything as best we could.
When the helicopter hovered above us, we stood side by side. I was knee-deep in sand, the dog tense, like waiting for orders.
He didn’t bark.
I leaned into his side. The roar was right above us — strong, like everything was shaking.
The helicopter circled. Once. Twice.
Then something fell. From the helicopter. Spinning. Falling fast.
A bag. Black plastic. Tightly wrapped. It hit the ground with a thud right next to us. I ran to it. Tore off the tape. Inside was a dense pack. Military kind. No labels.
I opened it — water. Several plastic bottles. Sealed food rations, strange, unfamiliar. Medicine — neatly packed.
On top — a note. Taped on. Letters I didn’t know. I couldn’t read them — just stared. Like it was a drawing.
“What does it say?” I asked.
The dog looked at the page.
“Says help is coming. Soon. We wait.”
I nodded. Didn’t care what it said. There was water. There was food.
And he was here. My Grandpa. Even if he had fur now.
To be continued...
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
Giovedì 1 maggio
Com'è diverso sbrigare le faccende e godersi la giornata quando ci si sveglia più tardi del solito.
Mi sono svegliata senza sveglia, però sono uscita a fare una lunghissima passeggiata subito dopo aver bevuto un po' di caffè.
Da alcune settimane mi sto abituando a non passare tempo sui social e su Internet prima di sbrigare le faccende.
Ho notato che non mi manca più di tanto sprecare tempo; dopo tanti anni passati su Internet, non ci sono molte cose che mi interessano ancora.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
nostalgia
“Ah! The good old time…” Something that we all have said or has crossed our minds at some point, normally with flairs of nostalgia implicit in it. The truth is that not only does this quote evoke vivid memories of our joyful youth, but it also helps us push forward in our daily life by finding in these words a haven of peace. Nevertheless, strange though it may sound, it dawns on me when I myself utter those words that I cannot help have mix feelings about everything concerning nostalgia, and how even the most tender memories you had cherished could be deleterious depending on how they are come at.
As hinted, nostalgia may stem from our longing to live once again when we were five, ten or fifteen years old. The time when, be it eating tons of chocolate, get flocks of your hair cut by your own hands, or the mere fact of coming back home in time were everything about which you had to worry. It is funny how we now say “waste” instead of “spent” when the time keep on just passing by. The thing is that at the end everything comes down to how enjoyable what you do is. And here lie the magic and the problem of nostalgia: while our elder memories are sugar-coated by such feeling, the new ones in comparison hit rock bottom due to the bitter-sweet adulthood.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
enough of my dorm
I got bored of my dorm this year. when ı compare this year with past years clearly many things did not stay same.in the past ı hang out easily with my friends in the nights and it was not causing problem to entrying in the dorm.Now we can enter at 12 at the latest.we had a poor quality gym bu at least it could be used.now it fulled with mattress.Already my dorm is not free to stay over that we have pay for laundry.per laundry cost is 40 tl .its really expensive.long story short ı am gonna quit this dorm.I can't help but say that the dorm was really nice.
May 1, 2025
国際労働者の日
ここでは、今は5月1日だし国際労働者の日（しきりにメーデーとも呼ばれる）だ。特別な日だから、それの歴史をもっと学ぶようにちょっと調べるにした。何かについて書ける話題も要ったし、一石二鳥だね。
まず、どうして国際労働者の日は5月1日で祝っているの？まあ、1886年5月1日では、アメリカで8時間労働制を求めるためのストライキとデモが発生した。最初に平和的に始まった。だが、5月4日では、シカゴにヘイマーケットで一つのデモ中に、誰かが警察に爆弾を投げたし、一つの警察を殺したし、たくさん他の警察を激しく痛めた。あとで、デモ隊と警察が互いに撃ち始めた。終いに、七人の警察と四人以上の労働者が亡くなった。この事件はヘイマーケット事件と言われているようになった。このストライキを記念するために、アメリカ労働総同盟は5月1日に国際労働者の日にならせた。
各国では、国際労働者の日だから5月1日が休日じゃないらしい。例えば、日本では、5月1日が休日なのに、ゴールデンウィークからだ。むしろ、勤労感謝の日は11月23日で祝っている。実は、アメリカでも休日じゃないよ。ある理由から、アメリカのレイバー・デーは7月の最初の月曜日だ。
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
Mi Mañana (4-30-25)
Deperté despues de mi novia despertó. Pero, cuando ella despertó, estuvo muy consada. Porque esto, ella no fue a si trabajo.
Miré videos de español en Dream Spanish, practicé hablar en español, y leí en español después de dessayuné. Fui a la cocina porque tuve hambre. Cociné comida para me y mi novia.
May 1, 2025
Ein Tagebuch
Seit fast 9 Monaten führe ich ein Tagebuch. Bisher war es extrem nützlich und hilfreich. Jeden Tag mache ich einen Eintrag, um zukünftig sie zu analysieren und mich an meine Vergangenheit gut zu erinnern. Am Ende jedes Monats mache ich eine Zusammenfassung. Es hilft mir, an meine Gedanken zu reflektieren und meinen Fortschritt zu sehen. Gestern habe ich gerechnet, dass ich 92 Stunden beim Deutschkernen für April verbracht habe. Manchmal kann ich meine Einträge für ehemalige Monate lesen, um diese Zeit wiederzuerleben.
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
髪の毛をカットしちゃうの？
ムルチタスクすることか、一つのことに集中することか、どちらがいいでしょうか？
この世に全ては段々速くなっていきます。自分をもっとできるように押しました。同時にいくつかの作業をするマスターになりました。それはいいことと思うけど、時々もっとゆっくりに生きたいっていうか、もっと今の瞬間にいたいと思います。
今日の出かける準備中に、化粧したり、ニュースのポッドキャストを聞いて、ものを集めたり、友達にメッセージしました。効率が高かって、早く電車へ行けました。しかし、電車に乗りながら気づいた、昼にサロンに予約を入りました。
いつ予約をしましたのか？今日の準備中にしました。記憶がありませんでした。
「髪の毛は嫌だな」と「カットしなきゃ」という考えを覚えます。次の思い出は「面白いな」だった。それはポッドキャストの話に対して考えでした。その「カットしなきゃ」と「面白いな」の間に予約を入りましたみたいです。それは全然良くないでしょうね。＾＾！
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
Pratique: article journalier (tout est faux!)
Un athlète amateur remporte une compétition mondiale dans un sport peu connu
Hier matin, Robert Eggers est devenu le premier gagnant du monde d'une compétition de Boogie Boarding. Le jeune californien de 19 ans explique, "C'est un grand honneur de recevoir cette trophée. Je le dédie à mes parents, qui m'ont enseigné le Boogie Boarding quand j'avais que cinq ans, sur les vagues de Santa Barbara."
Le concours a pris lieu hier sur la plage de Santa Monica, Los Angeles. Eggers était un de 16 participants dans la compétitions, qui s'agissait de réussir à rester sur la planche pendant au moins 30 seconds sans interruption, et puis de faire un tour de 360 degrés avant de tomber dans l'eau. Eggers décrit sa mentalité gagnante: "Lorsque je monte, je me mets en mode de surf. Je me dis que si les surfeurs peuvent faire des flips et tout, moi je suis capable de faire un petit tour sur ma petite planche."
Le sport, qui a été inventé en les années 1920 en Mexique, a gagné de l'attention mondiale après son introduction aux marchés américaines. Les années 1960, avec l'apparition de la culture "hippie" et les communautés de "surf," ont introduit les planches "boogie" à un nouveau public. Désormais, les gens qui n'étaient pas prêts à monter sur une grosse planche, avec tous les dangers qu'elle présente, pouvaient quand même s'amuser sur les vagues avec une planche plus petite et plus gérable.
La prochaine compétition de Boogie Boarding prendra lieu l'année prochaine à Punta Cana. Pour ceux qui sont intéressés, il y a toujours du temps pour apprendre!
May 1, 2025
May 1, 2025
Mi undécima publiación
Hola a todos:
Hoy les cuento sobre mi último viaje a Panamá. Digo último viaje porque he estado en el país cuatro veces para pasar tiempo con mi novia, quien vive allí. Pasé la mayor parte del tiempo en un pueblo llamado Boquete, el cual está ubicado al oeste de Panamá, cerca de Volcán Barú y de Bocas del Toro. Nos despertamos a las dos de la mañana para tomar un jeep hasta la cima del Volcán Barú, que es el punto más alto del país, y creo que todo valió la pena. Allí, sobre las nubes, todo tenía un color más vibrante y el lecho blanco se extendía hasta donde alcanzaba la vista.
Además, monté a caballo por primera vez y, a decir verdad, me gustaría volver a hacerlo. Ya me gusta recorrer trechos largos y se siente aún más aventurero a caballo.
May 1, 2025
Un viaggio in Grecia
Sei anni fa, sono viaggiata a Grecia. È uno dei miei posti preferiti in Europa. Io e le mie amiche siamo andate a Atene, Mykonos, e Santorini. Primo abbiamo volato a Atene e siamo rimasti in un Airbnb vicino al Partenone. Dopo alcuni giorni, abbiamo volato in un altro aereo a Santorini. È un bellissima isola con cibo delizioso. Siamo rimasti in una villa piccola. Finalmente, siamo andate a Mykonos nella barca grande. Ci siamo divertite molto e siamo andate a molte feste. Vorrei tornare presto in Grecia.
May 1, 2025
April 30, 2025
Heute
Ich habe gerade meine Hausaufgabe gemacht, und ich bin noch nicht müde.
Ich habe heute schon gegessen, es ist fast Nacht, ich habe nur wenig Dinge zu tun.
Ich werde für eine Stunde lesen. Ich werde ein neues Buch lesen, es heißt "Der Fremde" von Albert Camus, ich bin mir nicht sicher, worum es geht.
Ich werde es nicht auf Deutsch lesen, um ehrlich zu sein, mag ich noch nicht auf Deutsch zu lesen, ich finde es langweilig, weil ich nicht alles verstehen kann.
Danach werde ich Grammatik lernen, ich benutze ein Lehrbuch.
Am Abend lerne ich normalerweise Italienisch, ich nutzte nicht so viel Zeit mit Italienisch als Deutsch.
Ich hätte fast vergessen zu erwähnen, dass ich auch den Wortschatz studieren muss, für das, benutze ich die App "Anki", es ist ziemlich nützlich.
Bis Morgen!
18:32:25 (UTC)
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