this winter in Georgia. That nasty Gazprom is intending to double the gas price for Georgia. Which would make it almost double as expensive as the same gas in Armenia, and 50% more than Ukraine. As they say - it's a free market, unaffected by politics.
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Recently read the above book by Xinran. Xinran was a Chinese radio reporter who took on women's issues, not entirely to the delight of her bosses. More recently she lived in England (she has an English husband/partner) and wrote a column for the Guardian. Reading this book I was a bit disappointed - because it consists of a collection of her newspaper columns, all the articles are relatively short. Also she recycled many stories of which we had read, in much greater detail and with much greater compassion, in her book 'The Good Woman of China' - now that book is worth reading. If you have never been to China, and even more if you have led a sheltered life in Western Europe, it will really open your eyes!
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Due to a total brain shambles relating to dates I thought I was going to a chamber music concert today and the opera tomorrow. Then found that the chamber music concert had been on yesterday, while I was 'sinking'. So off to the Opera tonight for AIDA. Expected a typically old-fashioned show with lavish sets and costumes.
But in fact the sets were very stark, minimalist, representing big slabs of stone at the front, side and rear, and the singers also had fairly plain costumes (though all these Egyptian priestly scenes make me think of the 'Magic Flute'). Not bad singing, generally, apart from one high note which was rather squeezed out. Unusually, the acting started during the overture. Unfortunately the acting was as stiff as the walls at the side of the stage, but perhaps in a priestly environment you cannot expect much jiving about. THAT TUNE, that everyone knows, was in the second act, after which I was not the only foreigner to leave....It seemed they played the tune on normal trumpets rather than on those very long, extended things that are usually used. The choir, despite its size, also sounded a bit subdued. The performance was about 60 to 70% sold, which was good. Audience as always chatting, texting, walking in and out. A foreigner beside me tutted a few times (but he had missed the first act - I wonder if he had just come to hear THAT TUNE?)
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On Monday night some emails flitted by me which may not have been meant for me (though one was an invitation to a party on Saturday...but when I asked the sender if I was invited [I did not know the lady] I did not get a reply...:-(). One of them mentioned singing. This sounded interesting. Not that I have sung seriously for years.
I enquired further and found that there are two groups of foreigners singing; one sings Georgian songs, the other sings European stuff. Unfortunately both groups have decimated in size so they now sing together....but there seem to be slight cultural and conceptual differences, so that's interesting.
When I told my colleagues that I was going to singing that evening, one of them said 'You are going to sink?' (It's the only place where her accent, with the hard 'g' can lead to misunderstandings). She continued 'do you have a professional musical education?'. I felt a little hurt at this point. Clearly the myth that amateurs have no business making music is alive and well in Georgia.
It needs to be explained here that Georgian songs (I am sure the right word is not 'songs') is something like Gregorian chant of about 500 years ago; it seems to be transmitted from generation to generation and singer to singer only verbally; there are no notes. This makes people like me uncomfortable, because if you sing in the three voices that they have (high, middle, low) and you have the middle voice, it's a bit harder remembering it. What happens is that one person sings ahead of you, and you try frantically to remember your part (of a whole song) while she sings the other parts for the other people. On the other hand, in the European music I had an advantage since it seemed not all participants could read music. At least for the Georgian music we had a couple of good Georgian singers who lead at least the two higher parts. The harmonies are not exactly Bachian but I could detect a system in it all.
So anyway, people drifted in in the course of an hour (this whole thing took place at someone's flat), and by the end there were about 10 of us, with a Norwegian guy, Sven, who is a trained choirmaster and who speaks fluent Georgian, doing the leading. One of the Georgian faction handed CDs of the songs to everyone so they could practice their part (for a Christmas concert). Generally people took it very seriously and they generally sang well. I found to my surprise that my voice had dropped; when I was young there was a point in my voice between middle a and g where the sound changed; this point has dropped to middle d and c, much like the change between violin and viola. The training of viola playing means that it is not too hard to keep to the middle line. There were three men including the leader; at least half the basses could not read music... but we chuntered along and had a great time. Got a lift home from a lovely and slightly anarchic French lady.
Might go again!
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Oh dear, British efficiency and customer service! A few weeks ago I wrote to the embassy asking about the security situation here, what with alarming headlines in Europe about Georgia and Russia. Got a reply after the second attempt.
When I got here, tried to register by email and sent my details to the person I had been told to send them to. Again a week later - not a whisper of a reply! So yesterday wandered off to the embassy which according to the website was open 9 to 5 every weekday. Arrived at 13.45 to be told that it did not open till 2. At 2 was told to wait a couple of minutes. Eventually a security guard arrived in what looked like a grey jumpsuit with a Union Jack on it and asked me details, then said I could not go in. Told him that I had not come all this way to be sent away. He asked someone again but refused admittance.
Not a happy moment. Luckily I had the email address of a key person and sent him a stiff letter. He told me to send in my details by email (which I had done twice before) and that the consular department was open 9-12 and 14-17 hrs on weekdays - a time when I had been there. Yah boo sucks!
Obviously the wave of customer services training has passed the Foreign Office by completely. I am glad my taxes are not paying their wages. Incidentally, the embassy website has as its piece of news that London has been awarded the Olympics. This award was announced on 6 July 2005; more than 2 years ago. Apart from the fact that this will entirely benefit only one small corner of the UK, has nothing else good happened since?
However, loitering outside the embassy waiting for His Highness, the security guard, to finish his luncheon, gave me an opportunity to watch the positioning of St George on his pillar (see photo). I was there just at the moment when they let the cables go from the crane. He's still in pink!
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You should notice a new link at the bottom of the page which links you to Helene's blog; and very interesting it is, too. Helene does energy, especially the nuclear stuff, and has been all over Russia and Ukraine, as well as the Balkans, Greece and so on. We have known each other for about 5 years and spent about two single parent Christmases together when Helene was still living in Vilnius. Does a great party, too, and has wonderful talented daughters.
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The Big Ben supermarket in Tbilisi - you know who you are - is a supermarket for ex-pats; Georgians can hardly afford to shop there and while the quality of many goods is very high, such are the prices. Oddly, many products are from Germany, such as the finest sugar - but who would want to be 2.50 Euros for a kilo of (ok, caster) sugar, when nextdoor you can get it for 80 Eurocents. I was appalled after I did my first bit of shopping and found a bill of about 75 Euros! However, it does have some useful things such as environmentally friendly cleaning liquids etc.
If the prices are not high enough, there are other creepy ways of making a wee profit. In Tbilisi it is common that on the one hand there is a system of stock checking tills (where the operator enters a code and it shows the goods with their price), but the final till receipt comes from a separate machine into which the operator types the amount. Apart from the fact that the operator seems to type in the codes for the goods from memory (and the text is in Georgian, so only they know), today I found that for my bill of 15.35 I suddenly paid 17.35, as it said on the till receipt. The hoodlums!
The Big Ben had been at the bottom of my list of shopping venues already, once I had clocked their price differentials, but now.....nice one! Sans moi!
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The lady on the left (0 out of 10 for picture composition) gave me a bit of a supercilious look yesterday as I trotted (ok walked) past her. I did not care for that. Maybe she had seen it all before - indeed she had since I was the last of the running hashers.
Geeez, what a hash in Tbilisi! I have now hashed in four countries (unlike that Irish guy in Kiev who said he had hashed in 107 countries - show-off!), but this hash was seriously challenging.
Dushanbe - flat; Kiev - flat; Vilnius - a wee bitty of hill here and there (and the walkers are already whinging), but Tbilisi - we are talking vertical. The hash was advertised as being 'all downhill' (though, strictly speaking, how could it be seeing we returned to the same spot). As I might have mentioned before, Tbilisi is seriously hilly. For this hash we went by car half way up a hill, or so it seemed. Then we, the runners, climbed 3 km almost vertically (not many people really ran uphill) before corkscrewing back down for another 5 km. The walkers had another route, and got themselves lost. The views on top were stunning, overlooking it seems the whole of Tbilisi. On the top of the ridge we also saw some villages which really looked very alpine. The alpine touch was added to by the sound of cow bells (apart from the belle in this picture who did not have one) Note that I also had a 3km walk in each direction to and from the meeting point. So much exercise was taken.
Not only exercise, alas. The Tbilisi hash has a serious drink problem, in that almost the only drink there is beer, and very little alternative provision. Given that the down downs go on for ever, this is quite serious. The beer comes from the Kazbegi breweri and has a rather wheaten flavour. Why is it called 'wall beer'? Apparently the brewery has a place on one of its walls where beer is delivered by the petrol pump and you fill up your own containers (but apparently it also goes off quickly). This makes it very cheap - apart from the environmental impact of going there with your car etc.... Anyway, much beer was taken, and the walk home was more of a stagger; the night was a bit restless....lesson learnt, here!
And yes, I might have been the last of the hashers passing the coo on top of the hill, but I was not the last one to get back home - on a downhill stretch streaming nicely past a few others who had given up altogether!
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One of my regular readers noted that it is difficult to print off this blog (this blog? It's more like verbal diarrhoea - but you will notice shorter paragraphs already) on account that the background colour was blue and her black and white printer printed everything black (there are printer settings that can be changed).
However, as ever responsive to my customers (one needs to practice what one teaches) I have now changed backgrounds etc, and I hope it is more readable. I must admit that I always prefer things with a lot of red in anyway, as those who know me can confirm.
Another reader had difficulties with adding comments; I tested this and found that you need to click right on the word 'comment', not on the little envelope to the right of it - that just allows you to forward my stories to other people.
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Today in the office there was a distinct whiff of gas from the gas heater beside my desk, especially with the windows closed. So the lads decided to investigate. Out came the matches... which were then run along the gas pipe to identify exactly the source of the leak. Nothing found (thankfully!). There was another gas pipe along the ceiling but the guys were to short to reach it with a match; so they lit an A4 sized piece of paper and ran it along the pipe. As one does.
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every time I go out....
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Coming out of a supermarket I noticed that the street was fairly quiet, and there were lots of policemen about, all shouting rather excitedly. This looked interesting, and I lingered. Suddenly out of a side street came flying a cavalcade of about 9 cars; at the front and rear a police car, then at either end a four wheel drive with four guys carrying machine guns, then another car, then the president, and one or two other cars with heavy guys in them (they might just have been advisers). So much for approachability then and being a man of the people.
My Dutch friend Hans always tells me to give his regards to Sandra. Sandra is Mrs President and Dutch. Funnily enough, last week Mr President was in the Netherlands (visiting the inlaws?), and Hans' niece served him wine (Georgian wine?).
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The mallets? The masseuse's hard fingertips on my body all over (snare drum); her fists hammering me all over (kettle drum), her flat hands slapping me hard all over (bongo) and her bony knuckles running up and down my ribs (xylophone). For a rubenesque lady this masseuse (different from last week) had surprisingly bony hands, and boy, did she use them. The condition 'glue ear' which young children used to be operated on (when the middle ear is filled with gunge) has found a new meaning - it's when you are lying face down on a stony bench, with one ear pressed against the tiles, someone presses hard on your back and a vacuum appears between your ear and the bench. At the end of all this she discharged me with a hearty slap on my rear! Thank goodness I am not totally thin yet.
Interestingly I tried another set of baths nextdoor first, but I fled when I heard the price of 35 lari (about 16 Euros) for an hour plus 10 for a massage. Maybe I misunderstood something and they wanted to put me in a private cabin, but what for. The one I will go to regularly is 13 lari for everything in a communal shower room - and we are all equally attractive....
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'of an evening' is kind of a bookish phrase. The only living person I have heard it use is my friend Pat; otherwise it is in books which have been written a few years (a good few years) ago. I love this phrase - it has such an air of relaxation about it; 'perambulating of an evening', 'partaking of a wee tincture of an evening'.
Anyway, I digress. 'Tis Friday and apparently all the foreigners (hardly 'all') congregate at a hotel at the end of my road. I went past it on the way home tonight, and the place was full of four-wheel drive cars - did not really fancy it. Will meet many of them at the hash on Sunday anyway. Also had a 'deid lump of meat' (as Mrs Rab C Nesbitt said memorably about her husband's genitals) in the fridge, which needed to be dealt with.
So the first way of keeping warm of an evening is to cook a slow stew on the gas cooker. All the chopping and slicing works up a steam, and cooking it for an hour or more also helps. Must say though, that beef, pumpkin and aubergine does not make for an entirely happy combination. There is enough left of it now that it'll last for another 3 days.
The second way of keeping warm is to go to the baker's down the hill and returning. Bakers here seem to have a bit of a pole position in society. For a few days in the afternoon I had noticed people looking through a window at groundlevel watching people at work, and I wondered what it was all about. Today I discovered that it was the baker's shop. But not the one nearest me - though I had spotted an entrance in a house near my flat that had a painting of one of the interesting Georgian breads on it (like a frying pan with two handles). So while the stew was stewing I wandered off through the pitch black lanes towards this place. Across the entrance was a table; the shelves were bare, but in the shop two men were hard at work.
Georgian bread is not backed on shelves in ovens, but in something called a 'tone' (although that might also be the word for 'baker'), which is a bit like a tandoor - a large clay oven which sticks out of the floor and is quite wide. The dough is rolled out into an oval and stuck over a shape like a cushion; with that the baker throws himself into the oven, legs flying in the air, and sticks it to the oven wall. Obviously he would not wish to linger in that position. But they still seemed to have their eyebrows. A short while later the bread is done.
Since the oven is always open, the heat coming out of the baker's shop is quite considerable, and at this time of year it must be nice to live above such a baker. So when you get there, you get the bread straight out of the oven - and a piece of paper from an official document to stop you burning your fingers while you carry it. The taste is out of this world! Like French bread used to be. The baking and pastries here are generally very good, and usually hot. In some shops you get cut, wrapped bread but that is nothing like this stuff. The only problem is that it is so large (in Georgia one person families are not common).
Going home through the little alleys near my house, in the dark, is interesting. It is very quiet, very dark. There are hardly any cars in the street which is very roughly cobbled, and lots of little shops, about one every 5 houses. The houses are small, old, and have extensions stuck on everywhere, with external stairs all over the place. Much like the film 'Mon Oncle' where you would see M Hulot leaving his top floor flat via a variety of stairways and balconies. Must take photos.
Last night, at the Opera house, there was a premiere of two ballets, one called 'Conservatory' by the Dutch composer H S Paulli, and then one called 'Two Pigeons' which turned out to be choreographed by Frederick Ashton, and miles, miles better. But before there was a bit of a kerfuffle over the seats since I found other people sitting in my seat who would not move. Turned out in the end that there are two blocks of seats in the stalls, and my third row was in the rear block - albeit with the better view. It was a sell-out.
The stage settings were sumptious, very lovely painted 19th century rooms. The 'Conservatory' was very traditional - it was based on 1849 choreography; rather oddly it was paired with a couple of other pieces of dancing, a kind of horsey dance and a pas de deux. This gave the first half an odd shape - starting with a crowd scene and ending with that horsey dance and the pas de deux. When the crowd came back on the stage we expected them to dance, but in fact they were there to take their bows. It's rare that a ballet ends on a pas de deux - were they trying to pad that part of the programme out a little? The trouble with strictly classical ballet is, as the Lithuanian ballet could have told them, that it needs to be really precise and together. In this case there was a fair bit of wobbling in the back rows - and when the 'children' did their little bit in front of the ballerinas, the boys of the second row had a distinct five o'clock shadow. Maybe it is difficult here, too, to get boys to dance.
The piece by Ashton (which I did not know at the time) was vastly better; a story about a painter and the girl he is due to portray, and love falling apart and back together again. Very pleasant, and very funny. The quality of the dancing was much better here, as well as the choreography.
The audience was fairly noisy throughout. The orchestra was a bit thin sounding; instrument quality? The US ambassador was there, too; Johnny Tefft. He had been in Vilnius a few years ago. Also there was a group of German tourists of the Saga++ generation; some of them may have celebrated the jubilees of getting their first pension payment. I thought they were very enterprising - Tbilisi in the dark has many treacherous places to trip over.
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Now in my flat for almost three days, and things are falling into place. A few bits and pieces needed to be bought, but now I have a bedside light (important when an apartment is chilly and one does not want to climb out of bed to switch off the main light, and trail back in the dark!). Kitchen is also sorted, and I am sure the heating will go on soon. In Tbilisi 'central heating' seems to mean individual central heating rather than in the Russian and Lithuanian sense, where the municipality provides the heating. Alas, it is not individual enough for me to control it - the owner of the house controls it, I think. The apartment is north-facing (like mine in Vilnius) and with a big roof over the balcony does not get much sunshine. But I am sure in the spring and summer it will be just grand.
Internet now works in the apartment, too; TV selection is pretty poor, though I get TV5 Europe (a French channel) and the Russian channel 'Kultura' which is pretty good. Both should improve the relevant languages. In distant Tajikistan I get all the German channels...
Work is going very swimmingly, though today I got the first inkling of a wee bit of disagreement between different bodies about a certain aspect of the job. Thank goodness for that, otherwise there would be nothing left for us to do. Everyone is very nice and enthusiastic, and they are very cooperative which is great.
The Georgian language is difficult, though I am getting the hang of quite a bit of the alphabet now. The word for 'no' is 'ara', or for 'no no' it's 'arara', but when they say it the intonation does not sound like 'no!'. It's very weird. The word for 'yes' seems to be 'cho' ('ch' as in 'loch') or 'chay' ('ch' as in 'Charlie'; which, with a slight twist of pronounciation is Armenian for 'no'). 'Thank you', since you were asking, is 'gmadlobt'. Learning the alphabet is not hard when it comes to familiar words, like 'oktomberi' for 'october' but when it comes to words like 'gmadlobt' it's a totally different question.
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Now in my new apartment. A huge flat of about 120 square metres, in a house between the French and Italian ambassador's residences. Their houses, sitting in the highest road of Tbilisi, are sticking up a few floors above the level of the road; my house, as it should be, is about 50 steep steps below the road. I have the whole top floor flat of the house, with a huge balcony overlooking Tbilisi - and in particular the newly built, huge Cathedral (Georgian orthodox religion) which is lit up like a birthday cake and dominates the whole skyline.
The flat is fully furnished, very fully furnished, and has all new kitchen equipment; though last night, celebrating my move in, a crucial piece of equipment was missing - a bottle opener! On the rear of the flat the mountain rises up, so there is not that much light. Nor is there on the front, due to the balcony roof, and the heavy curtains, but I hope I will be spending much time on the balcony next year. Maybe in the summer I will be grateful for it. At least the lighting in the flat is ok.
Went shopping last night for fruit and veg; my landlord guided me down the other exit from the property which goes immediately into a neighbourhood of very old and very poor housing, though bits of the road have been newly asphalted - in strips; I wonder who paid for that. I will definitely need a torch - I already have a key ring with a minimal torch, but a slightly more powerful piece of kit is needed.
After dinner I sat out on the balcony and read my book, eating some of the grapes hanging off the balcony roof. Very pleasant! This morning Tbilisi is wrapped in fog – so much for the view...
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A quiet day, spent the morning walking over to Vake and slowly back via my new flat. The flat is really in a wonderful location, though immediately below and to the right there is a right mogre of tumbling down houses. Would not like to go along there at night and need to work out the best way to get to and from the concert halls, where there is light on the roads. At least my entrance is watched by the guard of the French or Italian ambassador's house.
The number of wee shops in Tbilisi is amazing; in the street I am staying in at the moment there must be 10 shops, including three cornershops on one crossroads, all selling much the same thing. Somewhere else I walked past there was a basement baker's shop which was a great source of interest to some Tbilisi folk who had their noses pressed against the large picture window.
Tonight I went along to the theatre to see the 'play' 'Styx' by Gia Kancheli; generally it is about the river Styx and people on either side of it, dying in a myriad of ways. Actually it is a piece of music .... Kancheli's beautiful music (viola, choir, orchestra) was used in a recorded form, mostly, and now and again, in between other sound effects. The set was bare, containing 16 chairs, a fridge from which spilled sand, a gas cooker, 16 men, 7 women, all dressed in neutral colours. The 'play' began by the sixteen chairs being dragged across the stage, one at a time. There was much slow motion, in fact, a very great deal of slow motion. At one stage an omelette (two eggs) was cooked on the stage, and then the gas oven was used for the inevitable, in the context of 'Styx'. At another moment Charlie Chaplins 'Smile', in the Michael Jackson recording, was inserted which worked surprisingly well. It was a bit of a walking ballet, or a ballet without dancing.
Very interesting; there one thinks of Georgians of all fire and flame, and you get this quiet little performance (though the music was played at a level that was anything but quiet). It would be interesting to hear the real music performed by real Georgians (I am not sure whose recording was used). Apparently Kancheli lives in Antwerp now; the piece is actually a requiem for his parents and friends, and I wonder what he would have thought when the audience mostly left the theatre laughing, those who had not walked out earlier.
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So this morning I went out to look at more flats. The first was right on top of the hill (trafficwise, the top of the hill is much much higher up). A flat in a building between the Italian and French ambassador's houses, below both of them, with a fantastic view over the whole of Tbilisi. The flat itself is large, the furniture is fairly ugly and there is too much of it, but there is a piano also and cable TV, not satellite...ah well, we survived that before. Nice people, a vine all over the balcony with grapes...
The next two flats were extremely dark. The first of these was almost nextdoor to the flat I had just seen, very cramped, inhabited by the people who were hoping to rent it out, lots of nooks and crannies, and not right for me. Then another flat near the sulphur baths - I was told the child was asleep upstairs, so looked round the downstairs first. Again very dark, very cluttered, with a balcony, though. After a while I went upstairs, the rooms were dark, with signs of water spillage in the ceiling, darkened wallpaper - how does anyone hope to rent this out to foreigners for good money? Turned out that 'the child' was the son of the lady who looked a good 30 years old.
The last flat turned out to be the flat I had seen the day before, which I had quite liked. In a moment of enthusiasm, and thinking that seeing the same flat two days running is an omen, I said that I wanted to rent it. After that I had a look round the neighbourhood which is quite old. This flat's view, while wonderful in the distance, in the closer distance focuses rather on rusty tin roofs ..... It does have a lot going for it. In the neighbourhood are lots of little shops selling a limited range of food, fruit and veg, and a street with rather nice and expensive looking restaurants....
Anyway, then went for a walk all around the old town, and across the river to Old Metekhi church which was built in the 1270s. I assume it is of the Georgian faith, although just in that corner of Tbilisi, albeit on the other side of the river, there are in close neighbourhood of each Georgian churches, an Armenian church, a Synagogue, a Mosque and a Zoroastrian temple. It was obviously very old, and quite neglected, though the inside had been painted up to a level that can be reached by a man on a ladder. The visit needed a head scarf, and I had something suitable with me.
After wandering about a bit on the left bank, and almost drifting into a funeral by accident, and passing a young policeman with a very old looking machine gun (generally the police seem to be not too menacing here), I went back on the right bank and towards the folklore festival, which took place roughly on top of the sulphur baths. Tbilisi is a place with sulphur springs and a number of baths use these springs; the baths are generally underground, and little cupolas pop up all over the place. Anyway, I wandered along and looked at a rather nice tiled bathhouse, when I spotted some Europeans confused at the entrance. I listened to their conversation with the lady taking the entrance and decided to join them, in a remote sort of way. It soon became clear that they were going to go for private treatment, in a cabin (and there were none available). Then I found out that there was a place for everyone (the women; common changing room) and I went to that instead. So the procedure seemed to be that everyone went for a shower and serious, and endless, soaping down (I had not brought anything, so I pretended to soap myself down) - when trying to turn on my shower I accidentally turned the tap out of its socket, but managed to jam it back in again before anyone noticed.... Then I tried some doors until finally finding the sauna room which contained two women already. It was a dry room rather than a wet steamy sauna. To my surprise one of the ladies there asked if I wanted a massage (which I had paid for in advance). I was surprised because her work uniform was the same as my sauna uniform, ie nothing!
So off we went back into the shower room where I had to sit on a tiled shelf. I first got the peeling - with a rough glove and occasional buckets of warm water chucked over me, and then came the massage. In terms of massages, going on a line from a gentle stroking (0) to very painful (10) it was at about an 8. When the lady pressed down hard on my spine, at roughly breast level, I remembered that I had read about masseurs walking on the 'victim's' backs, and I started to worry. This did not happen, thankfully (it would have been really dangerous in terms of health and safety). But I never knew I had so many painful places on my legs!
After that I went back to the sauna for a bit before finally struggling out. My back has almost recovered now - but this might become a nice routine for future weekends.
When I got home I was thinking more and more about the flat I had chosen, and especially about the flat which I had not chosen. I did an option appraisal on both (one of those fancy management tools) and found that there was very little difference between both (if I was a government the one I had chosen would have been the better option, but I had always had the vision, when thinking about Georgia, of sitting on a balcony with vines of an evening). The fact that this flat also has a piano offers possibilities for evening activities, especially if the TV is only a cable TV. ....So I phoned the estate agent and told them I had changed my mind. I feel bad about this morning's lady, but it is better to change my mind now.... hope I won't regret it.
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