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Going through the change

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I am an introvert

Hi. I am Linda. I am an introvert. 
Yes! An in-tro-vert.
This is a wonderful, simply illustrated article on what it is like for an introvert to process information. It is just simply put: different from that of an extrovert. According to Susan Cain, the mother of all introvert-information out there, the modern pioneer in advocating introvert's rights, says that it is often seen as something shameful to be an introvert in today's extrovert culture. In schools, extroverted children are prized, even though introverted ones get better grades. Susan says that Western society has always favoured the man of action, over the man of contemplation. 
On the website Psychology Today in an article about introverts and extroverts, the percentage of the two types are divided in a very vague way. They write that extroverts make up 50-74 procent of the population while introverts are 16-50 procent. 
They explain the main difference between extroverts and introverts as having their brains wired dif…

Full Moon Vibes in Ibiza

It has been crazy since the New Moon in Taurus 2 weeks ago. So crazy that I sometimes thought I'd drop dead from a stroke. I had so much to do that it was becoming humanly impossible for one human being to do all the things that I did. 
Today, with the full moon, it eased up. It all relaxed for me. I decided to devote time and effort to bring myself back to one piece, to relax, to do the things I need to do in order for me to feel good. I have spent year and years trying to find routines, lifestyle and choices that work for me and make me feel centered, connected and relaxed. And efficient. And happy! Because I am an introvert, I really need time alone, to write, read, go inside myself, write lists, think, ponder on astrological events, watch movies that inspire me, stay at home, cook, organise my days. Stuff like that. It makes me feel good. 

But I have these periods in life, every now and then, when I lose all of it. It's like I'm normally a train that is going at a nice, …

My little corner. My little brain

I have my own little corner in this world.
I have had other corners before. Not many square metres. Never.

But a place that I can call mine. Just mine. My little 50-something square metres. My home.

It didn't come easy. It isn't easy. But at least t's my space. My little tiny space on this planet. At least I have this.

And I get to see this sunset. I smell the perfume of the boats, the harbour. It reminds me of the world out there.

I have lived on a small island for 5 years. And a couple of days. That altogether 1825 days. Plus a couple more days. Those are many long days for someone like me. I miss the world. I miss change. I don't like the same all the time.

But I like to have my space. I don't mind if it changes every now and then. But a space. A place. Mine. My rules. My standard.

Change, I love.

I love you, change.

Can my little 50 square something metres little space that I call my own change soon to something else, somewhere else- that would make me happy. I smell th…

I finally went on that life-changing trip

I first came to Puglia in 2008, I think it must have been early October. I'd had an awesome time in Tuscany and Rome and Calabria and was arriving there by train, filled to the max with beautiful experiences and electric connections, not really expecting much else than just a half-boring yoga teacher training that I had signed up for, not really knowing what else to do with my life after finishing my degree in Indian Philosophy at SOAS, University of London. 

As the train cut through Basilicata and into Puglia, the amount of olive trees that swooshed past started to be shocking. After a while, I realised that it just wasn't going to end. Endless amount of them, large, proud, thick. Planted in perfect rows, with no sigh of the end, or the horizon. 

My eyes widened as I started to think I was hallucinating. Was I going insane?
It went on for hours. Endless olive trees. I felt as if there was a movie on repeat outside of the train window. 

As the train finally stopped in Bari, I wait…

Formentera: my escape from life

We went to Formentera for the day. I've rarely seen a sea like this. It hurts my eyes, it's so beautiful. I never want to leave. I want to dive in and disappear into the turquoise underwater paradise.
It's like an escape from life, Formentera. It is a tiny island. You can feel the edges of it wherever you are. It always ends, nearby, the end is right there, and each ending is a beginning of THIS (see above). So every ending is a beginning of paradise, and paradise is so near, wherever you go. The island is flat, dry, like desert. Salty, pink salt pools, feels like a flamingo would land graciously any moment. The Catalan is even more filled with dialect than Ibicenco. It feels deserted, and close. Far away, and near.

Don't know if Frida Kahlo really said this... but now I understand her better

...but she definitely represented those words. And I need to make them mine. 

"Fall in love with you. 
With life. 
And later with whoever you want"

"Sometimes you have to 
forget what you feel 
and remember
what you deserve"

On another note, something interesting has happened. I'm about to get close to my 6-year-anniversary of living in Spain. The longest I lived in another country (except my native Sweden of course) is the U.K., where I lived for 5 years total. The difference is however that those five years in the U.K. were so broken up by visits to other places and long-terms stays in for example the US, Sri Lanka and Sweden, that actually that time was more colourfully patched up and stitched up and more fluid. 

I'm about to get close to my 6 year anniversary of living in Spain. One year in Barcelona, and five in Ibiza. 

And in the last two weeks, something happened with my Spanish. I fucking finally started feeling comfortable speaking it. It's flowing easi…

The traveller who landed (maybe temporarily)

The traveller who landed. Yes. That's how it feels right now. 
I've been through traveller's hell and I've come back more adult, more grounded, more accepting. 

For me, living a seasonal lifestyle in Ibiza goes absolutely perfectly together with travelling in the winters. For me it's kind of been the whole point of living here- the fact that there's time and freedom to go away in the winters, for months on end, like I've always done. The only difference being that I these days have two small children (2 and 4 in April this year). So far, I've managed to drag them along to different places, but when we spent a week in Barcelona over the New Year, while I had a blast, they seemed to genuinely wonder what we were doing there. Pi, the older one, kept asking me "mummy, why are we in Barcelona??" I asked him "isn't it fun?? Isn't it GREAT??" and he was kind of uncertain about it. Missing his home, his room, his father, his friends, h…

To mean what you say, and say what you mean

This picture is of my two sons sharing a fresh coconut, taken at Paradise Beach, Gokarna, Karnataka, South India.
This place has a huge significance for me. I had malaria when I was here in 2006, and my life was saved by very special people, whom I remain deeply connected to in my heart. 
When I was back here with my family in January 2016, a year ago, I felt the connection vibrate deeply trough me, sometimes in an almost electrical way. 

I feel all of this so clearly inside myself. But now, as I read the above, none of those words have very deep meaning for other people. 
I feel things deeply inside myself and I realise I might not always communicate all those feelings very clearly. Actually, for me, to write is a much easier form of communication than speaking directly with other human beings.

Why? Maybe because I am an introvert, and I take in all outside impressions very strongly, and I need to process all of it in solitude for it not to clog me up and block me completely. 
Maybe it'…

Procrastination Perfection

I don't usually see myself as a procrastinator. 
Only in three rare cases; where it is ALWAYS happening. 

Case 1. Every three months when I have to collect all invoices and costs and write them all down into this horrible ugly and boring Excel-sheet and send to our accountant. 

Case 2. A blast from the past. Today's procrastination reminds me of my three years at SOAS, University of London, procrastinating BIG TIME before each and every bloody essay I had to write during those years. It was all essay/paper-based. All I ever bloody did was write. I must have written a billion words during those years. I did love it, I did, I did love it... But it was bloody hard to get going, each and every time I was struggling with cups of teas, dust particles, fridges magically opening themselves up and inviting me for yet another snack and not to mention re-organisation of whatever living space I was in (a new one for each term, basically. I am a gipsy at heart and I loved discovering differen…

Going back in time to a place in the memory-banks

I love going back, to walk back through my own memories. To re-discover a place that I spent time in already, to re-trace my own steps.
I didn't spend much time in Malaga that time in my early 20´s. I think it was less than a week. But a week packed with fun, visiting my dear friend Elin, who was studying Spanish here. I have clear memories from certain situations, and certain places. The sound of the wild parrots, for example- the soundtrack of the city. So exotically funny. There was especially this restaurant that I remembered- I found it this time- El Pimpi. It was a classical place, old and famous, which had now, almost 20 years later, become a huge operation with even a shop dedicated to "el Pimpi-products". A brand, a lifestyle. A place to be.
Yes, things change. Thank god that they do. Imagine if every place was the exact same every time we visited. Although change is hard, it is also the only constant thing in life. So sad the Buddha, and he was kind of a smart gu…