In an attempt to save some mullah (and perhaps out of laziness), I often sleep in the slightly-warmer kitchen of our apartment. Early last week, we had lows around 5 and 10 degrees – so I most certainly was snoozing in the kitchen. On Tuesday, after a long day of meetings and prep-age, I started a fire and went to bed.
Around 11.30pm, I saw a very bright light through my eyelids and woke up quickly. The top of our woodstove had foot-high flames covering the whole thing! It took me a couple of seconds to realize what had happened – there had been 2 new candles that had been set on top (which I obviously hadn't seen before I started the fire). They got hot enough to melt and busted out in flames upon hitting the hot metal.
I got the extinguisher and tried to get it to work – but didn’t succeed. I called my roommate, “B – help! …please hurry!” (note to self: if there is actually a fire, it isn’t a no-no to yell, “fire!”). She, after calmly meandering downstairs, got the extinguisher to work like a charm…which meant that neither of us could inhale for a few moments until we stood out on the balcony. My emotions: not particularly panicked, thankful, or surprised – nope, I was depressed thinking about cleaning and about the inevitable interruption to my meticulously-planned week. Gratitude came later, though, as I realized how little damage there was – especially to the floor and the Christmas tree - and that, hey, we needed to paint anyway.
The next day, Wednesday, we awoke to frozen fog. I’m not a fan of fog as I can literally feel myself being drained of enthusiasm for the day. Yet, as I discovered last year, frozen fog is one of my most favorite experiences in Kosova. It makes me want to clap, sing, and dance – and then be super-silent and soak in the supernatural. It’s different than the PA frosts…and pictures don’t really capture its coolness.
(sidenote: I jogged Tuesday morning, and it was so damp and foggy that my pants collected moisture and then froze around my ankles – that was a new experience for me).
Around 11.30pm, I saw a very bright light through my eyelids and woke up quickly. The top of our woodstove had foot-high flames covering the whole thing! It took me a couple of seconds to realize what had happened – there had been 2 new candles that had been set on top (which I obviously hadn't seen before I started the fire). They got hot enough to melt and busted out in flames upon hitting the hot metal.
I got the extinguisher and tried to get it to work – but didn’t succeed. I called my roommate, “B – help! …please hurry!” (note to self: if there is actually a fire, it isn’t a no-no to yell, “fire!”). She, after calmly meandering downstairs, got the extinguisher to work like a charm…which meant that neither of us could inhale for a few moments until we stood out on the balcony. My emotions: not particularly panicked, thankful, or surprised – nope, I was depressed thinking about cleaning and about the inevitable interruption to my meticulously-planned week. Gratitude came later, though, as I realized how little damage there was – especially to the floor and the Christmas tree - and that, hey, we needed to paint anyway.
The next day, Wednesday, we awoke to frozen fog. I’m not a fan of fog as I can literally feel myself being drained of enthusiasm for the day. Yet, as I discovered last year, frozen fog is one of my most favorite experiences in Kosova. It makes me want to clap, sing, and dance – and then be super-silent and soak in the supernatural. It’s different than the PA frosts…and pictures don’t really capture its coolness.(sidenote: I jogged Tuesday morning, and it was so damp and foggy that my pants collected moisture and then froze around my ankles – that was a new experience for me).
1 comment:
i'm loving the frozen fog-- never really thought that could happen, but the pictures are gorgeous!
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