Ferragosto

Some annual rituals only affect you if you belong to the same demographic, others have a noticeable impact on you even though - in theory - it's actually none of your business. Case in point: those 2 month of summer vacation that students and teachers get to enjoy. Parents of younger children struggle to organise those weeks, juggling their remaining annual leave allowance to spend quality time with them, registering them for camps that fit the interests of their offspring and, if they're lucky, dropping them at grandparents. Neither do I have children of my own, nor am I a teacher by profession and yet, the summer months of July and August affect me in a variety of ways. A positive side-effect is also catching some of that "school's out" mood yourself, emptier buses and subways in the morning (then the tourists get up), more spaces to park your car in your own neighbourhood and longer opening hours of public pools, etc. The more negative annual "traditions" are massive construction works on several public transport lines as well as longer intervals. At work, nothing of major importance can be scheduled for either July or August because the assumption (and also reality) is that "everybody is on vacation). You might be in the office, but the colleague whom you wanted to send a meeting invite is not, and vice versa. It would make sense not to take one's main vacation when prices are highest if one is more flexible, but then again it is super hot and at a certain point you just want to go somewhere more bearable, preferably somewhere by the sea and also the expectation is that you use up at least some of your annual leave in the summer and not save it all up to go on a 5-week-trip to Asia in November, say. If you work in an (Austrian) office, the beginning of Q4 is busy because "everybody is back from vacation" and you'd better be around for that important meeting or else come across as a bit selfish.

 

Just Chilling

 

Like the Instagram vs. Reality meme, other people's reality and comfort is often not what it seems like from the outside. You might see a couple sitting next to one another, playing on their phone and assume that they don't have anything to say to one another. This couple might be us, however, each person happily engrossed in a virtual passion of their own (him: either playing online chess or commenting in a newspaper forum, her: refreshing Instagram or checking her Vinted purchases) and still - hopefully - a very long way from having run out of things to talk about. I really love our slow weekends and the fact that unlike many men his age, Highflyer is just as happy to spend hours on end by (and in) a pool, lake or the sea as I am. It's great to have somebody to share your passions and to actively things together, which we do, but it's equally great to have a chill-partner running on the same wavelength that does not pester you to put down your book or stop scrolling brain-rot when you want to just want to continue what you've been doing for the next hour or so. 10/10!

Giddy

Do you remember what Christmas or the first day of your summer holidays felt like when you were a child? Well, I do and this type of excitement is what I feel about my mother's new pool. Even though I had known about her plans, had seen the work in progress both live and on photos, seeing the finished masterpiece for the first time and realising its dimensions was unreal. It was as if aliens had abducted me and dropped me in the garden of some boutique hotel with a luxury pool. I arrived late on a Thursday night and had to try it out immediately. The next morning when I woke up before 6 a.m. I went swimming again. My mother heard me get up, go to the toilet, but not get back to my bed and got worried that I had an upset stomach or something. Nope, I was just giddy with excitement and as soon as I had seen the glistening water I knew I had to go for a swim. Mum was overjoyed that we (that weekend, Highflyer also came to visit, as did Bestie Boy) were overjoyed. We walked around with big grins on our faces every time we set foot in the garden. Back in Vienna, I really miss this luxury and am looking forward to taking my next dip.

There's Always a First Time

I have mentioned there that I recently got hooked on selling my old stuff on Vinted and I have now generated over 700 EUR in sales in less than 3 months. Not bad at all. The money you make first goes into a virtual "purse" with the platform's hidden agenda of course being that you don't transfer it to your bank account but rather spend it there. In the beginning I was not really tempted to do so, other than perhaps buy a bag or two as I could not imagine buying somebody else's "preloved" clothes, even if they were labelled as "brand new". What if they are smokers and did not mention that? What if their house smells like a garlicky frying pan? After a discussion with friends who are seasoned second-hand-buyers I was already less convinced when the argument "but in a shop you also don't know who all tried the things on and it's usually even more people" came up. Very true and I wash any clothes I buy new in a shop or online before first using them anyway. Then this top (see pictured) randomly popped up in my feed. It happened to match trousers I owned by the same brand and cost only 4 EUR. I did not even know these trousers that I bought 2 or 3 summers ago even came with a matching top, but I decided to take the plunge. I did not regret it and I ended up sending the seller this picture. She was delighted. Well, and I have already eaten my words and don't regret crossing that line into the receiving end of circular economy.

 

Forties Revisited

I just returned from four nights in Nice with Mademoiselle. I had missed Nice and the Côte d'Azur, last having been there the year I got married, i.e. in Spring 2022. Since my first vacation there with Mademoiselle back in 2009 I had returned many summers and in my forties I was there almost every August for at least a week with her and a growing number of other sun-seeking ladies. Mademoiselle and I even went during the first year of the pandemic, when wearing masks outside (!) was mandatory in the city centre despite the summer heat. I have become quite familiar with most villages (and also the state of Monaco) within easy reach of the regional bus and train network, but Nice will always remain my favourite. It is among the top ten of my happy places even though I vividly remember more than one visit when I was glued to my phone (i.e. more than I am normally), obsessing over a certain somebody's messages. I did not like this desperately needy version of myself, even then, but I am still grateful for this "phase" that made me hone my values and non-negotiables.

This was only the second time I stayed in a hotel versus the apartment of Mademoiselle's friend and it was great to get to know a different part of town and thus introduce a new twist to what I like to call an "autopilot vacation". I don't have any concrete plans for my next trip to Nice, but I'm definitely planning not to have a four-year hiatus again.

Hunter and Gatherer

On Saturday night, I went to pick greengages from two trees (one with reddish, one with golden yellow fruit) that grow a little further down the road where we live in suburbia. I seem to be the only person who is interested in taking them, but they are very nostalgic for me. There was a tree near the house where I grew up and my friends and I used to play in and around it. I still prefer the fruit when they are unripe and still a little green, but this stage is admittedly prettier.

I am convinced that this joy in finding things to forage was instilled in my by my paternal grandmother who I loved going on walks with and who NEVER ever returned home from any walk in the country side empty-handed. Whether it was yarrow (her favourite) or chamomile for tea, some apples from the side of the road or blueberries, wild strawberries and mushrooms from the forest, she always found something and knew many "secret spots" on her regular routes. Her passion for hunting for freebies in nature was fuelled by the fact that her own grandmother apparently was a well-known herb woman who passed knowledge about medicinal properties of herbs on to her and also the hard (war and post-war) times she experienced as a child and young adult. Even though I grew up a privileged only child who only knew financial hardship and starvation from books and films, it still gives me a special thrill to find and use things that nature gives me for free and I think of my granny every time.

 

From Rags to Riches

If you're following me on Instagram you have already learnt about my new "hobby" slash side-hustle: decluttering on Vinted. A friend has joked that I'll advertise Highflyer there any time soon and I replied, yep, if he's stationary in the armchair for too long I just might take flattering pictures from all angles and post him. Nah, joking, he's obviously a keeper. And a "vintage classic"!

Amica had sung the praises of Vinted for months, but I could not be bothered to start selling on another platform than my tried-and-tested Austrian one, that I have been on for 20+ years now, not really having sold much there recently. I also could not be bothered printing out labels and going to parcel drop-off points for different services. 

I already had an account already, but never actively used it, but when Highflyer's daughter did not like her Easter gift (a t-shirt from Boden) that I had bought online weeks ago and could not return any more, I posted it and it was pretty much sold immediately. I took some photos of clothes both at the country house and my city flat and slowly, but surely, the algorithm discovered and promoted me and the first Euros started coming in. 

I gradually shifted all my "stock" to Vienna, where I have several parcel drop-off points within walking distance and in the course of 2 months only, I made about 500 Euros already. Not bad at all. I have meanwhile expanded my offerings to accessories, shoes (something I would never buy second hand myself) and other random things such as the charger of my old Macbook and still have SO many things I could sell that are currently in my flat. 

Every time I'm there I idly look into shelves and drawers and discover random items in pristine condition that I don't even remember owning and that somebody else might appreciate more. Win-win. I am gradually decluttering and earning some nice "pocket money" (for upcoming vacations, for example) while I'm at it. I have yet to overcome my own prejudices against second-hand items other than preloved designer handbags, but I'm getting there. Even if something is marked as "new" and "unused" and I would obviously wash everything I think "what if their apartment smells of deep-fried food?" (or worse: cigarette smoke). I don't mind wearing hand-me-downs from people I know, but other than that I have reservations.