Life

Somehow this March 2007 selfie feels relevant…

I’m turning 31 today and here you have 31 things you didn’t ever necessarily wanted to know about me:

1. I’m an only child. That does explain a lot.

2. Although several millions of people share this experience, it still tickles me: the state that issued my birth certificate does not exist.

3. I have found a missing piece of family history online. The family legend was that my grandpa’s sister’s second husband had been incarcerated for anti-Soviet activities in the 1950s, but later in life he never talked about it, so there was no additional narrative about that. Doing a more general family history project a few years ago, Google revealed that he – Mikhail Krasilnikov (1933-1996) – was a vanguard poet and student experimenting with performances in 1950s Leningrad. The Russian internets have his prision-time photos, his poetry, memories of his friends and photos of my great-aunt too. I was high on this new piece of the family puzzle for days.

4. Quoting Hamilton, an ongoing issue in my life is “why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” with the answer being “because it’s obviously the case”. Since kindergarten I’ve had enough “no, Luīze, not you, maybe somebody else knows” situations to be prepared for this scenario, much more than the opposite one. This is one of the reasons why PhD has been so hard – you get a room full of people whose basic experience is to be the smartest on in the room. That ought to lead to trauma and friction.

5. The story about professional ambitions that I like to tell myself is that I’ve actually given a try to every idea that made sense. An alternative view would be that I’ve been quitting stuff when it stop making sense from a very early age…. At three I wanted to become a ballerina. My mom dutifully enrolled me and after a year or even less I had it clear that the tutu was the best part and that the classes with a strict teacher wasn’t. The next idea that persisted for a long time and, in a way, never really went away was becoming a fashion designer. So I drew, I read, I learnt classical drawing, and at the end, just before the entrance exams for the arts high school at 16, I stayed at the comprehensive programme. The next fantasy was to become a journalist. I did a gig for few small publications and realized that I didn’t have guts to do serious (read: dangerous) reporting from conflict areas while most local stuff was so boring and half-assed that I didn’t want to be part of that. By that time I was deep in volunteering for NGOs, so working for an international NGO suddenly seemed the perfect combination of politics and impact. Yeah, it took some more volunteering and a six-month internship to learn that that’s not the case. After that one dissipated, I started my undergrad, fell in love with the scientific method, vowed to become a sociologist and even got a tattoo honoring Descartes. Nine years later I am a few months from having a PhD in social and political sciences and no illusions about this industry.

6. Yeah, there are two tattoos. 2011 question mark honoring Descartes’ ‘methodological skepticism‘ and 2013 ‘el cuerpo de Osiris, cuerpo brotado, se alzó y caminó’ from Eduardo Galeano‘s microcuentos reinterpreting the myth of Osiris and Isis. No regrets and they are keeping up great (a n00b advice: mine are gray and not black), my grandpa still pretends he cannot see them, and I still haven’t been able to come up with a reasonable addition. The only nuisance are all the people who think that it is a fine icebreaker to ask about the meaning of my tattoos, no, not cool, stop that sh*t.

Planning my first tattoo the obsessive-compulsive way.

7. I’ve had several piercings that were done in the following order: a ring in the helix of my left ear at 12, nose stud in the left nostril at 13, belly button at 15, earlobes at 19. The upper ear and belly button never healed, so they disappeared quickly. The nose stud lasted until a few years ago. The earlobes are still here but very sensitive nowadays, hence I’ve let go of my extensive stupid earring collection and wear pharmacy earrings.

8. Until some German pop-feminst books set me free at around 14, I avidly read and believed women’s magazines. That’s an incredible amount of false beliefs about life, sex, beauty, femininity among other topics. Ugh.

9. An issue that was too big for pop feminism was body issues, fantasies about fatness, and linking bodies to acceptance and self-worth. The most reasonable way of describing it is a low-key body dysmorphia. And knowing that so many all of us suffer from this doesn’t help. Body positivity, the average user’s guide is the blog post I’m most proud of.

10. At 16 I realized that life with short fingernails was much easier. It took a bit more time to arrive to the same conclusions about life without nail polish and make-up in general, but I don’t think I’m ever going back to that.

11. I’ll never know if I didn’t learn to walk in heels or is the whole thing just that painful (long way beyond my boundaries of acceptable discomfort). Anyways, no heels for me.

12. I started drifting towards vegetarianism at 14, went serious ovo-lacto at 18 and started flirting with veganism at 23. A list of my favorite Ⓥ resources can be found here.

13. Yoga is the physical activity that I’ve practiced most. I started with a very fitness-oriented version sometime around 15 or so and – with differing intensity – it has stuck around ever since. The second most practiced is tennis that I (having until then only played with the clay and watching my mom play) started learning at 8 and abandoned at 14, I guess. I did take it up again during my first year of undergrad but didn’t continue. Posterior trials with ping-pong confirm that the neuronal pathways forged for this are solid and would happily come back. I hope it will make sense some day to go back to the clay and the amazing sound of a correct hit. Other sports I’ve given a committed amateur’s try at some point include floorball, volleyball and swimming. After 1.5 years of actively learning it, swimming must be the third most practiced by now.

14. I have an advantage in yoga, though. My joints are very mobile, not enough for Cirque du Soleil, but still enough to see difference very quickly and get a lot of satisfaction out of it. Only recently I learnt that also my recently cranky ankle (after a sprain) and lower back pain if I don’t move enough are due to the same random genetic gift.

15. I don’t have a driver’s license. This is the only thing I regret not doing when the rest of my cohort did it. It’s a skill I find useful and a good idea but I had other priorities when all my classmates were getting theirs at 17. And it has been like that ever since.

16. I have very few teeth, 27 of the 32 there should be. All my wisdom teeth were extracted (I lived in pain and on drugs for a year or so meanwhile) and on the bottom row where most people have four incisors I have three. Funnily enough, the space is so well filled that nobody, including dentists, had noticed that until I was 18.

17. On a related dental hygiene note, dental floss for me is a basic necessity and a happy little indulgence at the same time. Meanwhile, I only brush once a day.

18. I’m between ENTJ and INTJ on the Myers-Briggs matrix. Knowing that gives me a perverse permission to be even more ruthless… “Anyone who worries they are an unfeeling, manipulative lunatic is probably quite cuddly“

19. Right before running into C, I was very excited about the idea of polyamory (thanks to Dossie Easton and Catherine A. Liszt, of course). So at that point monogamy was a radical choice for me (wording of that notion: Tristan Taormino), and much hilarity ensued when I announced I was settling down for an exclusive coupledom to the same friends to whom I had waxed enthusiastically about polyamory just months before. 6.5 years since then and going strong.

20. The food that never fails to make me happy is basic avocado maki. Even the pre-prepared ones in the airports. Most potato-based dishes come in as close seconds. Yes, I am a case of the stereotypical Eastern European potato love, and will never get bored of them.

21. The drink that never fails to make me happy is natural rooibos or any of the subtly bitter herbal teas: nettle, raspberry leaves, lemongrass. Like one of the characters in a Nora Ikstena novel, I get way too sentimental when drinking camomile, but in the great debate of fresh vs. dried mint for herbal teas I’m firmly on the side of dried.

22. Flavor I’m really NOT into: anise! Be it in licorice, liquor or fennel (probably the only vegetable I don’t know how to make palatable for myself), I don’t like it.

23. My drug of choice: alcohol. By now I have an extensive knowledge, both personal and cultural, on how it works and what to look out for (as opposed to many other substances), and it’s pretty clear that I’ll never be able to drink like I could (and did) when I was 17. Current favorites for an occasional indulgence include fruity session IPAs, easy chilled white wines and – if need be – quality distillate straight up.

24. Best smells are freshly mowed grass, lavender, roses and sunny pine forest. I don’t wear perfume, though.

25. The bulk of my taste in music was summed-up C in the phrase “dead black ladies”. Eartha Kitt and Ella Fitzgerald, in particular.

26. Yet my 2017 and 2018 have been heavily tainted by everything Hamilton, including the Mixtape and #hamildrops. Musicals do attract me in general, although the only one I’ve seen live is The Book of Mormon. As for hamildrops, this: “Rise Up Wise Up Eyes Up” by Ibeyi.

27. And I consider South Park to be among the best series ever. Yeah, it might be early childhood trauma, but that satire is wow. For me, much better than Simpsons or Family Guy. Some of my best early adolescence memories is watching South Park VHS tapes I had made from the TV and playing with matches (and candles) for hours. True story.

26. My favorite escape is to be drawing while listening to something. I guess there are many people whom I’ve offended because of my doodling during their classes or presentations, but I just can’t help (and it feels so good and so right). Also, I typically remember what I’ve been listening to while drawing that exact piece. I am very present while doing that.

27. I find chairs very uncomfortable. That position just does not feel comfortable. I wiggle, sit on my leg, try to sit cross-legged on the chair, etc. And wish that long distance travel – or work – could be routinely done with legs at the same level as bum. The Fifth Element-style travel drawers (with or without the drugs) seem very attractive for me. And not for nothing you get a similar thing when flying business class.

28. I’m a walker. True to basic human advantage in resilience to outwalk anybody, walking is my favorite way of getting to places in the city. A pretty typical day-off for us with C is walking some 3km to get dinner or lunch and then walking back. Fun. This goes back to the point about comfy shoes. Unwalkable footwear is useless.

29. I have a certain talent for languages, as far as I really have to use them. However, my two major pitfalls come from Latvian. In Latvian all words have fixed stress – always the first syllable – so I have to learn it the hard way in languages that have variable stresses, which is all others I speak: English, Spanish, Russian. Russian is currently the hardest for me when it comes to accents. The other Latvian quirk is not having articles… so I have no intuitive understanding of where it’s supposed to be a definite, an indefinite one or nothing. I manage somehow, but it’s a continuous struggle and startle people editing my texts. Well, at least I don’t have the typically harsh Latvian accents when speaking other languages… and some claim that my current Latvian prosody (and volume) are Spanish-influenced.

30. I’ve been more of a night owl since the kindergarten but can be trained to follow a reasonable schedule (but never get one of those 5am rise-and-shine inspirations). Additionally, I sleep a lot with up to 10h of natural everyday sleep. Although there is a lot of fetish around little sleep and early rising, I find solace in the internet knowledge that Einstein slept 10-12h too.

31. My mom’s inspiration for the name, however, was The Human League’s Louise. It was innovative at the time, according to contacts at Latvian Bureau of Statistics, I’m the 22nd Luīze registered in Latvia. Some years after it became more popular and now there’s a lot of Luīzītes. I just let people reinvent my name as they please, because nobody that doesn’t speak Latvian is able to get it right. Well, at least exactly as my mother intended. And people are creative alright! I’ve gotten Luis, Elise, Lluice, Luitze, Lizzie, Alice, Lucille… Luisa is not in use in our household, but Luise and Luisita is.

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Too much information? Anything left unanswered? This is the opportunity…

If you have read this blog at least since March (1, 2, 3) or talked to me lately about traveling, you will know that in April I planned to do some some international train travel which I had to cancel due to French rail worker strike. However, in the beginning of June I did an even more ambitious route than the initially planned Barcelona-Paris -London-Paris-Barcelona. Ha! I did Barcelona-Lyon-Brussels-London-Paris-Barcelona instead.

This wasn’t my first time crossing borders in a train, though. I started at 7 doing Rīga-Odessa-Kiev-Rīga with my mom in a slow train where she convinced that trains were the best places to sleep, provided that we are talking coaches with compartments shared among 4 or less persons, having your own little shelf with a proper bedding and when the train is not a high speed one. It was 1995 and former Soviet Union, so seeing the tracks when going to bathroom was normal. As an adult I’ve done the very short Brussels-Rotterdam-Brussels, Brussels-London-Brussels, Brussels-Paris-Brussels trips and the overnight Moscow-Rīga (17h) we did for fun in 2012.
I’ve also crossed Spain and Poland by train but that was not complicated either, except that time I got confused when part of the train bound for Bilbao was left in Valladolid. They do the same in Paris-Montpellier-Barcelona train: half of it stays in Montpellier, so you want to be in the right coach when that happens.

This is what overnight travel Moscow-Rīga looks like in a 2-berth compartment. Very cutesy and sentimental! By the way, this slow but tranquil option but in a more luxurious compartments is known to be the favorite way to travel by some Russian celebrities with links to Rīga; makes sense: you get a no hassle and almost no disturbances travel packed together with a trip down the memory lane. The border guards that wake you up to look at you passport in the middle of the night not pictured:

Horrified by my last year’s 23 flights and 17 of the year before, and knowing that some options exist, I did my best and below you have a long list of the pros and cons of long distance train travel according to me. These are, obviously, restricted by external factors such as distances and your closeness to a railway hub. For example, I’m not planing to go to Latvia by train anytime soon, as around 1500km of train travel per day seems to be my limit with current speeds, it’s twice that to Rīga, and several day train trips with multiple uncoordinated layovers is not in my wish list (something like Barcelona-Paris-Brussels-Berlin-Warsaw-Vilnius-Rīga). The other is personal preferences, those, well, to each her own!

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(My) reasons to take train long distance:

Significantly lower CO2 emissions.

Time *seems* better spent as you are in movement for a bigger proportion of the journey. Because the airport waiting times are just soul crushing…

Though vistas still fly by, at ~300 km/h of high speed railway you appreciate distances better than at the ~1000 km/h of the commercial planes. In my book that’s a good thing – distance is not a trivial thing and being mindful about it is a nice added value. For example, now my knowledge that Paris-London distance is less than half of Paris-Barcelona is a very real experience. And, yes, I am aware that in both cases those mentioned are top speeds and that the reality is often lower, especially for the high speed railway lines with many stops.

As Eurostar advertised in its beginnings, train normally takes you to actual places that have the same name as your destination. Even more, as railway is much older, most of the big stations are pretty central. No disrespect to people living in Prat, Charleroi, Nyköping or Luton, but these are not the places I was going to.

While we are now used to airlines policing our bodies and stuff (remember, the 100ml restriction has been there since 2006, not forever), the trains are a much freer world. Depending on a station and type of train, there might be a bag scan, but that’s it. Nobody controls how much stuff you are carrying and if any of that is liquid.

The most heart-breaking example of what the liquid restrictions have to done to us was at the Eurostar check-in in Brussels Midi. There are recycling bins before security and passport control there, and there was a bunch of half-full drink bottles, water and soft drinks. I already got scared that for some reason Eurostar has adopted the airline liquid rules, and asked the security staff. Clearly enjoying themselves, they explained that people just did that without being asked. Sad.

So bring your own water, and, if you are willing to suspend your water taste criteria in favor of reducing all the stupid bottled water waste, get a filter bottle and drink some bathroom water. Mine is a Bobble, I’ve had it for five months without changing the filter yet because I only use it for travel as we have a nic etasting water fountain in the office. I have to admit that the filter bottle is not as comfy to use as any normal vessel as you actually have to push the water through the filter and – as all normal plastic bottles – it’s not insulated, so you are bound to drink your water the same temperature as the ambient. I have made my mind though: I am easily disgusted by the common public water (chlorine!), so I prefer to push mine through a filter, even if it’s warm. In any case, hydration is important, please take care of yourself even if that means purchasing overpriced plastic bottles of water!

And bringing your own food is normal and expected, and snacking is great! Bring sandwiches, sturdy salads (read about how pros do it here) and fruit, snacks, it all helps. My basics are granny smith apples, cherry tomatoes, carrots, pistachios, dark chocolate and then whatever else that seems like a good idea. On the other hand, there is such thing as a ‘restaurant-vagon’ or at least a bar section in all trains (significantly cooler in older and slower trains, of course). Moving around freely is OK when in train, serendipitous encounters might happen, and it’s a way of escaping your seat-mate if need be.

On the other end of hydrating and travel nutrition we have the bathroom issue. Just to keep it short: have paper tissues just in case, liquid hand sanitizer (regardless of what you think about harsh chemicals, I think that they are very good idea for travel, including dealing with toilet seats) and small change for those places (French train stations!) that think that taking money for access to bathroom is a good thing.

Space! There is significantly more leg space! For real. And only two seats together, so you will need to climb over a maximum of one person (those who have been stuck in the 6-seat mid-row on a trans-continental flight and then in a lap of a complete stranger mid-way through your gymnastics towards toilet know what I mean). Also, if traveling in a small group, you can get the 4-seat 2-facing-2 table to have some quality time of conversations, meals, and games. For example, Spanish railway actually give you cheaper tickets if you book the whole 4-seats because few people want to share those with strangers.

And plugs. There are plugs. The number depends on a train model (one per every two seats in most trains I took), but still much better than none. So non-online computer work is a real option from the moment you get into your seat until the moment the train stops in your station. None of the ‘all big electronics have to be safely stored in the overhead lockers’. And the unified EU no-roaming-fees zone will take care of your data needs, although access to those fluctuated across my itinerary.

Less crowded. I see two reasons for it. First, not all of these are full. For example, my Barcelona-Lyon coach was pretty sparsely populated. Second, even when full, there are just fewer people in one coach and that gives breathing space. Yes, a train is a chain of coaches, I know, but the feeling is different sharing a closed space with 2 seats by 2 sides by 11 to 15 rows = [44; 60] than by 3 x 2 x 30 (or a bit more) ~ 180 on commercial median distance flights. My Paris-Barcelona train was a double-decker, having 88 or so passengers per coach but divided in two spaces.

(My) obstacles to take train long distance:

It is more expensive. The only exceptions might be the very short ones like the Belgium-Netherlands ones. All those I took this time were more expensive than low-fare flying. Like twice as expensive.

In many cases, it takes more time. The Brussels-London (2h) and Paris-London (2’15h) seem to be among the exceptions, and so are the trains connecting Belgium and the Netherlands. But if you are covering longer distances or using slower trains, it will take significantly more time. So, apart from the few faster-than-flying itineraries, this is not an option for people in hurry. As the pink letters in London-St. Pancras claim, trains want their time with us:

Failure could be much harder to fix and more time-consuming. Especially because the connections are not formal, so nobody will reseat you in the next train if you just missed yours because of a delay or give you a hotel if you have to spend the night. Again, the probability of such desperate moments depends on your itinerary, and my feeling is that it’s mostly linked to industrial actions instead of tech failure. So do your research and err on a safe side, especially if people with reasonable power for industrial action are planning to strike (hi, France!).

The infrastructure and habitual uses are less homogeneous, hence more stressful for the traveller. The differences among airports are smaller than among train stations. Timing cultures, security checks, infrastructures vary a lot. And language is not English necessarily. There is much less baby sitting than in air travel: nobody will call your name throughout the station and, depending on the station, check if you are getting on the correct train! And you can lose your stop if you are not paying attention or sleeping. Connections are not formal, so you are the one responsible of being informed and alert.

Depending on train model and itinerary, and booking algorithms, you might end up being seated backwards. I was sitting like that on my Lyon-Brussels train and found it only mildly unpleasant, but I know that there are people who get truly sick with stuff like this and in a full train with all seats booked your only option would be an informal seat change with a flexible-enough stranger. Please, nobody talk about this to Ryanair, they could implement random – cheaper! – sitting backwards seats just to fuck with us.

Also, not necessarily pretty. You’ll be seeing this a lot:

You have to be able to deal with your luggage on your own. This is very important! While nobody cares how big your carry-on is the whole point is that it is an actual ‘carry-on’: you will have to move it on and off train, climb steps and put it in the luggage shelves, either together with others in one spot in the coach or on the shelf above your head. I had a typical size carry-on and a cross-body with my essentials, and even this way it was annoying at times to do all the steps and gymnastics. It is true that people with big bags looking helpless get assistance from staff or kind strangers, but that’s not something I would like to rely on, especially in French stations where in both cases – in Lyon and Paris-Lyon – the track was announced less than 10 minutes before departure resulting in mass hysteria and stampede. So follow my grandpa’s advice and always be able to comfortably carry your own stuff!

As you can imagine, my strategy was to plan for outfit repetition and carry very little. Most of the little cross-body was taken by my two cases for glasses, so my clothing and conference shoes, notebooks, books, laptop, grooming pouch, food and water bottle had to go into the carry-on. Apart from what I was wearing for travel (kaftan, sports bra, sneakers, cardigan + ‘just in case AC’ leggings), I took two dresses, a bra, a pair of formal shoes, extra underwear and socks. You can see all the outfits here and here. And this is my hotel wardrobe in Brussels, the things on shelves are drying after a sink-wash:

And more hand-wash drying in London. While I take extra pairs, I do not take enough to cover all days, so washing by hand is a routine. If my dad and Paul Krugman can do it, so can I! I heard Krugman telling about his book-tour sink hand-washing habits due to the ridiculous prices hotels charge for laundry on some youtube talk years ago and he’s been a role model since. My all-time favorite knickers both for comfort and the super-quick dry are Luva Huva Satin Frilly Knickers in black you see in this photo:

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Do you have any experiences with lower CO2 travel? What mode of transportation, where to and how did it go? Do any of the cons I mentioned that make it impossible to you: price, time, stress levels?

I revised my notes of Kate Fletcher’s Sustainable Fashion and Textiles: Design Journeys (2014, London – New York: Earthscan from Routledge) and found a ‘make post about this’ note in Chapter 3 waiting for me since November last year.
However, as I had it on a limited loan from a far-away library, I only have my notes… and I was convinced that the all data cited about wear frequency were from the Dutch paper cited below. It’s not! I checked all 170 pages of that report… So get Fletcher’s book from your library and check.

Chapter 3 is dedicated to *use* and this phase of garment’s lifecycle is a tricky one as it’s private and individual. It’s hard to track, and the industry just love to put the responsibility on the consumer reminding that (a) ‘ha, you made a shitty decision’ and (b) ‘loads of energy gets wasted and water polluted via poor laundry practices’. And they are not wrong. So (and this is from my notes, Fletcher does not use the f-word):

– A garment spends on average 3 years and 5 months in one wardrobe
– Get 44 wears
– Gets ~3 wears between the washes
– If a person has 10 pairs of underwear, that means 36.5 wears every year (provided that all are worn equally and one per day)
– Most garments get only around 20 washes that cause a lot of environmental impact
– Washing is responsible of 80% of the energy impact of underwear
– Cold washing and line-drying reduces the lifecycle energy for polyester 4 times and for cotton – 2 times
– The increase of individual households with more machines and less people tend to cancel out the washing machine efficiency gains due to smaller load sizes
– The launderette as an alternative are: better because they are communal and guarantee maximal use of fewer machines while getting big loads, worse because they use higher temperatures used and tempts people into using the f*ing dryer

(obviously the averages here are statistical artifacts, provided that there are categories of garments that are washed after every wear and ones that are never washed)

From the Uitdenbogerd et al 1998 paper “Domestic Energy Saving Potentials for Food and Textiles: An Empirical Study” we get that, according to the behaviour of Dutch families in 1997, the most promising options for energy saving in household when it comes to textiles are:

– washing at lower temperatures, including 25ºC cycles,
– use of ½- or S-buttons for ½- and ¾- loads, and E-buttons on the machines,
– longer wearing,
– line drying.

So, following St.Kate’s advice and being mindful that notions of cleanliness has more to do with idea about culture, civilization, piety, propriety (as opposite to dirty) than dirt. And for the germophobes: as a species we are not very good at disease prevention via cleanliness, unless you boil and bleach everything, and even then… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

(A disclaimer is due here that – quite ironically – our household experienced an order from a doctor to up our temperatures for certain types of laundry lately… So, as always, follow your doctor’s orders.)

Stop the automatic ‘I take it off and put it in the hamper’. Look at it, smell it, ask yourself if maybe drying it on a hanger and/or spraying with a mix of water and essential oils could be enough.

If you have decided that a garment needs washing, collect them until you have a full load (cold washes allow for not separating the colors), get an environmentally friendly detergent and go cold at least with the often worn clothing (very few of us truly cover our garments with mud every day). Rethinking the function of underwear is an idea, too. Let’s keep in mind that one of its missions is to separate the living, breathing, sweating, etc. flesh from our outer garments. The practice of wearing an undershirt might be on its demise (and now associated only with Marlon Brando and old men not wanting to show their nipples), but just give it a thought, especially for places with winters. And remember that the ‘iconic white t-shirt’ is not much more than a rebranded piece of underwear.

The impact assessments tend to include bleaching and ironing, so forget about that shit and the softener too. You never needed those for everyday use anyways. In our household only an occasional stubborn fruit stained serviette gets a 100ºC bleach soak before going in with the rest of household textiles at 60ºC. And only C’s summer shirts and my handkerchiefs get ironed.

Forget the dryer if you can, line drying is a beautiful practice in the sunnier parts of the globe (dry your brights inside out, though, sun is the original bleach; on the other hand, your whites will love it) and the northerners with proper heating at home get an actual health benefit from drying their clothes indoors on a rack – no need for an additional humidifier! The only people I’d give a permission slip for the dryer would be those with a lot of small children and those using launderettes (which normally comes accompanied with no space for a drying rack and a tendency towards mold in their studio apartments). But with reasonably cold/lukewarm water, good detergent and full loads, eh?

And now, after the yearly ‘how to wash’ primer (this was the last year’s), here is the phrase that peaked my interest: “It is very likely […] that we all have durable unwashed items in our wardrobes, but probably have never recognized them as such” (Fletcher 2014: 107). This is part that got me thinking: what are my no-washes? And rarely washes? What would be the common characteristics of the garments that do not get washed?

*No washes* are my fluffy coat (2006),

my festive bolero (2011),

my cape (2013),

my red woolen sweater (2015),

my Lithuanian woolen sweater (2015),

my swimsuit (2015) – rinsed a lot, never washed,

Ginta’s Monton bird skirt (2016),

Liisa’s velvet skater skirt (2017),

my Pavlovo Posad shawl (~2013) and my Cien Colores shawl (2017),

Julie’s cardigan (2017).

The WAG set has gotten no washes, but I’ve worn it only few times, we’ll see this summer if that structured but unlined cotton begs washing. Rare (as in ‘once in a season maybe’) washes are my parka (2003; the outer shell, the inner one has been washed once in 15 years, I think), HnM sweetheart dress (2008), Ginta’s trench (2010), Ginta’s blue silk dress (2016).

So, the riddle is served: what do these have in common? (1) Almost all are outer layers, so that my filthy body does not touch them directly. On the other hand however, the same characteristic makes them more vulnerable to outside dirt: bike oil, bird poo… (2) Many of them are worn strictly seasonally or for special occasions, so the overall number of wears is small, hence reduced exposure to being dirtied. (3) Materials! Wool is my golden amazing darling that does not smell, basically auto-cleans and any minor mayonnaise stain can be fixed with a damp cloth and all refreshing these garments need is just some alone time in wardrobe with a baggie of lavender. (4) Fear and awe inspiring items: I’m scared of fucking them up and wearing them out by repeated washing + the swimsuit which seems to be doing just fine with its chlorine soaks and less-chlorinated rinses afterwards.

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What are your *no washes*? Are those things that don’t need washing because of their function or are those things that you haven’t worn enough? Do you have any secret garment refreshing techniques: spot cleaning, steaming them in shower, freeing them? Tell me, I’m all ears!

Hello, there! The lent might be in the air in this historically catholic country or maybe I just want to make a dent in the holier-than-thou issues of the blogosphere and consumption-based activism. Anyways, this will be a mea culpa of my poorest sustainability practices. While I can go through one of those long ‘get greener’ bucket lists (1, 2, 3, 4, 5) and tick off quite few, there are several big ones I suck at. Welcome to the club!

Flying!

Ugh, the elephant in the room nobody in the online sustainability crowd likes to talk about. What’s the point to bring your own napkin to a transatlantic flight? I took 17 flights in 2016 and 23 in 2017. Aha, horrendous. And those include 8 intercontinental ones, just to make it completely awful. It must be much less in 2018 as my ‘take your PhD on a tour’ conference hopping is pretty much over, but is has already been 5 flights just between January and February 2018. I have none planned at least until June, and I’m trying a new trick at throwing money at my problem…

The basic step I am doing: Trains! I’ve been hating flying for a long time (I enjoyed my first few flights, it was all new and exciting, you know, going places), so I’ve opted to go to my KonMari seminar in train: Barcelona-Paris-London and back. It has cost me 260€ (flying would have cost me around 70€) and will mean hours more. On the other hand, it’s a better environmental option and better option for me: more space, views to watch, not fretting about the exact luggage size, not having to go to and from airports in the middle of nowhere (Eurostar had me convinced years ago with their ‘go from Paris to London instead of Charles de Gaulle to Heathrow’ ads), etc. And at least in this route it’s possible.

Not happening: I am not considering going to Rīga by train anytime soon, but the idea is to keep flying down to just love miles. I’ll let you know!

Garbage!

We (a shared household, so) are so far from being zero waste. We recycle religiously but I get guilt ping every time I stuff a bag in one of the colorful bins, even more if something goes to the gray bin. In Barcelona there are five different containers lining streets: brown for the organic waste, blue for paper, green for glass, yellow for plastics and aluminum, gray for the landfill. The additional services include textile containers of two different NGOs, furniture pick-up once a week from the curb and Punt Vert where they will take everything that’s shouldn’t go into the gray container or any other: electronics, batteries, random pieces of metal, used cooking oil, cava bottles. Ah, and pharmacies gather the pharmacological garbage: unused medicines and empty blisters! So significant space at our place is already occupied by different kind of garbage waiting for their turn to get out. And, yes, we are very lucky and privileged to have all that sorting and recycling being done for us by the City of Barcelona.

The basic step we are not doing: Switching to biodegradable bags for the organic garbage! We take out our paper in paper, glass in whatever as jars have to go in one by one, and plastic in a plastic bag. We did try a biodegradable bag for a short while, but they were too small and fragile for the amount of organic garbage we produce. I know, I know, my grandma also takes her kitchen garbage out everyday… and during summer we actually do switch to smaller bags because everything in that garbage bin goes compost and garbage juice in a very short time when it’s 28ºC and extremely humid.

Further steps we aren’t doing either: Composting! Without even entering into the conversation about where exactly and which type exactly, C has given a hard no on rotting stuff at home and I’m not passionate enough to try to fight that.

Dental hygene!

I switched to a children’s Humble Brush (the softest bristle but took time to get used to the small handle) years ago and I’m using an eco-certified vegan *with fluoride* toothpaste. However, Humble Brush has nylon bristle and my toothpaste travels to me by air from Germany clad in plastic (oh, all the waste and emissions of online shopping). I use dental floss every day knowing very well that it’s not biodegradable and peril to marine life. Oh, and I also chew a piece of plastic every night in the form of my mouth guard. It also has it’s own hard plastic coffin, of course.

The basic step I am not doing: Trying out real zero waste alternatives like baking soda or bar soap and neem stick. Nope! My gums are happy, my dentist and hygienist are happy. It’s actually funny because these people, despite the fact that they are peddling the latest super electronic brush, actually know a thing or two about dental hygiene. Nobody’s complaining about my current results while after a few months of experimenting with ayurvedic toothpastes years ago my dentist just had to intervene ‘with what have you been brushing your teeth? whatever it is, stop it’.

The teeny-tiny step I’m doing: Cutting my floss in smaller pieces, so that nobody could get tangled in it.

The tiny step I might do: Switching to Brush with Bamboo for my next toothbrush order (again, the flying packages!). Dental Lace, maybe? But, again, I have very sensitive gums and this stuff flies from far away (Maine, yo!).

Online shopping!

Of course I enjoy getting the best of all over the world right at my place. And I love receiving any kind of package! The excitement, the unboxing… and it goes to ridiculous lengths. My latest fails include (a) ordering four bottles of imported American apple cider vinegar from Madrid (and we did it twice as the first package had a broken bottle) without looking around in the neighborhood, and then I discovering that we can get French stuff in bulk for a very reasonable price in the shop I buy my almond oil and (b) being seduced by one of those companies that promote a ‘you buy and we give’ model and getting a present for C from the USA that didn’t ship to Spain so I had to engage an Italian friend to get it. Absurd! And Amazon Premium is nothing else than promoting laziness and killing local businesses. And so convenient, of course.

The teeny-tiny step I’m doing: For my German cosmetics I’m revising my existing supplies and postponing orders to make them big enough (and get free shipping, of course). I recently run out of lipbalm (the addiction thing keeps fluctuating) and made an excel (obviously!) just to find out that I’m up to my ears in toothpaste, solar protection, deodorants and cream. And the cream has fallen off my shopping list since I’ve discovered sweet almond oil! So I just stole a lip balm from my mom and carried on without buying more.

The other teeny-tiny step I’m doing: Stopping and thinking about possibilities to get what I want off-line. Barcelona is big and hip and there are a lot of great businesses either producing or importing. I do allow myself to buy online if I can’t find what I want or if the price is so much higher. The latest addition to our Amazon Prime basket of LED light bulbs and whatnot: (a) circle stencils for drawing that no shop in Barcelona had (I asked at several) and (b) a new Grids and Guides notebook as the previous one brought me so much joy; I suspected only one shop here to have them in stock and that would have necessarily been 10€ more. And we needed the lightbulbs!

The step I’ve completed: I’ve managed to stop buying books, headbands, and t-shirts with revolutionary slogans, though. Wasn’t easy. Very proud.

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These are only few, of course. Our food supply is patchy ranging from a weekly CSA vegetable box to palm oil in our conventional wheat tortillas. We wash our dishes constantly opening and closing the tap (and switching on the gas-powered water heater). We just bought a giant TV set…

On the other hand, I’m trying to relax my orthorexic and obsessive-compulsive impulses of living up to a sustainability perfection that cannot be achieved. Relax, sweety, relax! There is only one Bea Johnson, and I will never replace her. I’m not planning to turn my life into a one cause anytime soon.

So let’s talk trash! What are your sustainability stumbles you are not really planning to address? Any babe steps you feel immensely proud of? Any aspects of your life where you have decided to just let go?

My Dad’s hand-me-down backpack I’ve been using since 2014. My sentimental investment has been allowing for the leather detailing, and my financial investment in repairing it were 25€ last year when the main zipper went kaput after all that strain. It’s also the perfect size for both carry-on luggage that fits under the seat in front and my everyday needs.

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Years ago there was a Latvian blog collecting photos and descriptions of people’s bags and pockets. I am unable to find it now, and I’m sure there are a gazillion more still doing it… However, having done such exercise in March 2008 and having found the email describing the contents when cleaning out my inbox, I just couldn’t resist repeating the exercise.

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So, the contents of my bag – a leopard-print plastic HnM tote, btw – in 2008:

For a bit of context: I was living in Ciudad Real then, doing my European Voluntary Service in a local NGO and actively learning Spanish. I worked mornings only and had lunch at home. The town is tiny, I walked everywhere, and actively tried to befriend the right people.

What you see here are:

My agenda
A notebook
A book: Taibo, Carlos. 2007. Movimientos antiglobalización (fun fact: this is the first book I ever read in Spanish!)
A CD: Veneno. 1977. Veneno
Headphones
MP3 player
A rechargeable battery
A USB drive 512 MB
Mobile phone
My purse
A Finnish lip balm
A Spanish lip balm
A pill-box containing chewing gum and pain killers
Honey perfumed kleenex
Passport
‘Libreta’ of Caja Castilla-La Mancha
Ciudad Real library card
A fountain pen
A marker pen
A ‘No sin él’ card holder containing: 2 debit cards, youth card, EU health insurance, AXA insurance, family doctor’s appointment card, bank password card,
A receipt for withdrawal of 30€
A boarding pass for a Brussels Airlines flight Brussels-Madrid

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And in 2018

I’m living in Barcelona, doing a PhD, commuting by bicycle, carefully planning all my activities and things to carry with me because popping home between, let’s say, yoga and work, would be a waste of time. I take lunch from home.

So 10 years later, on a normal Friday evening, I take out of my backpack:

My agenda
A notebook
Office key card
Home keys: front door, apartment door, postbox, both bicycle locks + bottle opener
Two cases for glasses: regular ones and sunglasses
Empty lunch tupperware with orange rinds, dirty knife and fork, a serviette in a cloth bag
A loaf of ‘German bread’ (a sad Spanish attempt at rye bread, ugh!)
Used yoga outfit: t-shirt, racerback top, leggings, knickers, socks

The pouch my mother-in-law made (she also made the two other ones inside) containing:

Phone + charger
My purse
Pill purse containing bandaids, painkillers, antivirals, a tampon
A Pusheen snack box with three dried figs
Oral contraceptives
Dirty handkerchief
Kleenex (those are a ‘last resort’ I don’t use routinely but you never know when you’ll end up in a dirty Spanish bar with no paper/towels)
A hand sanitizer
Earplugs in a case
USB stick 32 GB
A Latvian lipbalm
7 writing tools: a fountain pen, 4 markers, a permanent marker, a pencil
A hair elastic
A tiny clothes pin that was attached to Gulia’s present
A PAA card holder: ID, university ID, 2 Riga travel cards (one empty, one usable), 2 Barcelona travel cards (1-zone and 4-zone), a receipt for having spent 44 euros in the post office, debit card, bank password card, Catalunya health care system card, EU health insurance card, gym membership, La Festival buy 9-get-10th-for-free card

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Se vogliamo che tutto rimanga come è, bisogna che tutto cambi: while many aspects of my life have changed – the daily distances, schedules, tasks – other have stayed the same. I am still faithful to paper agendas and paper notebooks, and I still routinely carry with me a ‘first aid’ kit of wellbeing (that has expanded in last 10 years): handkerchiefs, kleenex, pain killers, ear plugs… I did finally switch to a smart phone last December and my lipbalm addiction is much less severe than before. But on days I’m not taking bicycle (rain!), I will always carry a book with me.

If you would shake out your everyday bag now and 10 (5? 15? 1?) years ago, what would still be there? What are the little things that help you maintain comfort when you are out and about? Is there anything you panic without? (I had that with lipbalms for years…)

Temperatures fluctuate, and you never know which mild winter you are getting.

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While I am complaining about the “fake winter” again, the midday 15-20ºC does not change the fact that we have no heating at home… OK, there is the hot air option on the AC and a little electrical heater but our windows are poorly isolated, ceiling is high, and we have tile floors, so we use neither. Hence getting out of under the blanket is a major life challenge from November till February.

The key is to get warm and comfy (read: under-blanket appropriate) as soon as possible after coming back home. This means a sports bra, leggings, woolen socks and a hoodie or a sweater. Looks like this:

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Although, to be honest, quite often this is the complete look:

I didn’t chose any of these infantile patterns – the hoodie is a gift from my mom and blanket came from C’s mom – but they only reinforce my resolution to be like Greg from Over the Garden Wall when I grow up.

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The major *winter* challenge is to overcome the stupor and the wish to stay under the blanket forever. In mornings I wake up to have breakfast with C, and afterwards get warm – instead of going back to bed – with a (typically) shortish yoga practice. When I feel too lazy for creative yoga and want instructions, I turn to doyogawithme.com. My favorite instructor there is Sarah Jane Steele (try her yin classes when feeling impossibly stiff) and my current go-to class is this 23 minute hatha flow.

Evenings are easier as there are things to do, meals to prep, and the local swimming pool is still 26ºC. I don’t use hair dryers, but I bring a hat to cover my hair on my way home! The swimming pool routine also helps to make sure that I get at least two showers per week.

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My minor – outdoors – challenge is to adjust to temperature changes due to movement. Cycling to work (downhill) is cold and breezy, coming back (uphill) is hot and sweaty + all the associated risks with then hanging out all sweaty and getting a nasty cold. Prevent pneumonias instead of treating them! Hat, gloves, and sunglasses (the sun is still here and going strong!) are my friends. So are woolen mix tights. I had given up tights for several years, and have no intention to going back to the typical transparent plastic, but I admit that a cashmere mix is much better than my previous combination of stay-ups and biker shorts under dresses (for warmth and for not showing the lacy parts of the stay-ups to all other drivers).

I still haven’t got a proper winter coat in Barcelona, because I – DO – NOT – NEED – ONE. I have two winter coats of varying warmth in Riga but they just don’t make any sense here. For the coldest days – around 10ºC – I will layer my trench with a wool sweater and be toasty enough.

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Despite my wish to go almost product-free in skincare (= soap + coconut oil + deodorant), November won and I made a big Lavera order. Oh, a hand cream and a lip balm can bring so much pleasure in life! Sweet almond oil also entered in my routine as supposedly better oil for the face as the coconut. Feels nice and smells delicious indeed. Coconut is still here for the rest of the body after the swimming pool chlorine.

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The summer fruits are out, but apples and citruses are IN. And the same goes for soups (miso is our lazy favorite) partly replacing salads. It’s Mediterranean, our CSA box has lettuce year-round!

My big cold weather switch is not going close to cold water and drinking a copious amount of herbal teas instead. My grandma’s magic are my favorites, but I haven’t been in Riga since August, so I’m long out of Latvian herbs. I spent the previous winter emptying local herbalist’s nettle reserves, but after a trip to Cape Town I’m back to rooibos all day. And as a special treat a colleague brought me two packages of this Swedish magic of passiflora, lavender, lemon balm, and mint.

Latvian heather full of grandma love.

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Rooibos is more robust than the herbs, so I leave it in the thermos for many hours, and just add hot water and more tea as I wish. Most herbs won’t stand this kind of treatment and become yucky after a couple of hours.

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So far I haven’t got a proper snot-and-bed time this, but if need be, here are the hankies (the only textile items I iron!) and the possibility to set up a little home office from the bed.

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Enjoy the season and tell me how you deal with cold weather, be it real or fake winters!

Me re-learning to use a swimming cap after 20 years of not having worn one.

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I present you with the typical Barcelona summer week. Hot. And humid. Despite having lived in Spain for years, my first socialization has left lasting notions of appropriate summer weather. Which is not this one… I present to you exhibit 1 – “Latvian summer”:

You see the difference, right?

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So I’ve had to develop strategies for survival. And the good news are that the locals have been doing the same thing for millennia. You may frown about lunches consisting of gazpacho and melon, sleeping siestas but then filling terraces until late in the night, and mothers warning their children to stay in shade, but it all makes sense. Here comes my list of survival strategies for heat. I do my best balancing certain levels of comfort with sustainability, but in extreme situations survival wins.

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“Vete por la sombra, hijo”: Fear the sun and stay in the shade.

What stupidity looks like.

Sunburns is how you tell tourists apart from locals (well, that and ugly sandals). People in North are raised to adore sun instead of fearing it. It takes years to change it, but try to take Southern sun threats seriously. Sun burns and heat strokes are awful, and you have nobody else to blame for it.  This is the real reason for siesta: it’s dangerous out there in the middle of the day. Stay in! If you have to go out, do it in short bursts or during mornings or evening.

In urban context protecting yourself means staying in the shade and a good pair of sunglasses, especially if you are participating in traffic. I got my first pair of real deal optical sunglasses in 2015 when starting to take commute-by-bicycle seriously, and wish I had done so many years ago. Forget the 5€ fast fashion stuff and invest in your eyes!
And I still wonder why modern Spaniards don’t use parasols… That would be so weather-appropriate and ladylike, despite tiring one’s arms.

If leaving the city or planning for a daytime picnic in a park, a heavy duty sunscreen, light clothing that covers body and beach umbrella are the way to go.

If you have managed to get burnt, aloe vera, sour milk products, or heavy neutral creams + wet towels can help while bras and other tight fitting garments + errands to run will make your life miserable. In case of a heat stroke, first step is to identify it (headache, dizzyness, nauseas) and get a buddy to help you to bed and wet towels. These strategies apply for mild cases only! There are cases of both sun malaises when only professional help will be of use. Try not to get to that point.

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Move differently!

Moving the body is very important but climate puts restrictions on it and it would be very foolish to ignore them. If you are moving outdoors, please, do yourself a favor and try to underestimate your capabilities. My little thing this season is the elevator. I work on the 6th floor and never take the elevator between October and May. But now there are days when – after gym and bicycle commute down to the campus – I do get into it. The same goes for popping in home, dropping things and going on errands. That’s the winter modus operandi. Now I know very well that I need a shower and 15 minutes of rest before taking up the next task. Little acts of kindness to the body go a long way!

Formal exercise is even more dangerous. I have no idea how people manage to go for a run during the summer here, bet clearly nobody does it between 12 and 17pm. Inside activities depend on AC. Some yoga places become hot yoga places (which is good for stretching!) and others turn into freezers (which is good for pneumonias!), but all gyms advertise their swimming pools. I’ve succumbed to it, hence the swimming cap!

For years I’ve been toying with the idea how water activities might be the best ones for me. I sweat a lot and water prevents the discomfort of that, I always loved playing wit water and mud as a child, I had tried some low-key water aerobics and loved it… but I never learned how to swim properly and the Mediterranean is way too salty for me. So I’ve finally obtained some unsustainable gear – I already had a Speedo swimsuit (made in China), a 2015 “promise” purchase of double polyester that needs amortization, and now also a pair Birkenstock flip flops (EVA, made in Germany) and a silicone swimming cap (Decathlon-Nabaiji, made in China) – and got into the chlorinated water. And I love it, despite the overall tackiness and the smell, oh, the smell! So far it has been water aerobics with people at least twice my age, but one day I will swim properly. Pinky promise!

Birknestocks have provided so much toe happiness and the biggest feet blisters, as they are clearly not a walking shoe. At least not for 5+ km of brisk walks in 28C heat.

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Adjust the temperature

Getting into a swimming pool is only one way of adjust the temperatures in your favor. Depending on your circumstances, you might have several other at your disposal (in order of eco-friendliness):

Right clothing: Fashion-wise summer in Barcelona is paradoxical. I wake up and even the thought of putting anything on seems awful (a bra?! no…) but, if I manage to overcome that repulsion (with the Lush dusting powder if we are in a heat wave) and leave home, everybody else is in the same situation. So we suffer together and the standards of respectability get low-low-low. Not everywhere, of course, but among junior researchers here pants that I would swear off as pajamas, both long and short with pom pom hems, are definitely a thing. Combined with a tank top and maybe a bra. My approach is loose dresses of natural or regenerated materials, but I do have a pair of those pajama pants (since 2010).

Draft: Depending on your living spaces, a permanent draft could be an option. Just make sure that your windows/doors are fixed to avoid slamming and possible damage.

Wet towels: Grandma (and science!) trick that works! Wet your towel in water and put it on skin, works like a charm. I cover myself with a wet towel in very hot nights. Cools off very quickly! Also wets the bed but nobody cares at these temperatures.

Showers: If in winter I may take 2 showers per week, summer means several short showers every day. On the worst days my shower schedule might look like this: woke up sweaty and sticky – shower 1, came home sweaty and sticky – shower 2, too hot to sleep (i.e. sweaty and sticky) – shower 3. Water is the best cooler and stickiness remover. Just keep them short and no-soap (if applicable), and let yourself air-dry if possible.

Air conditioning: Many places are AC-ed, some of them too much so (I’m looking at you Barcelona metro and light railway, and supermarkets, and so many other places…). I indulge AC at work, as it gets stuffy because of the coworkers, computers, and the permanent draft trick does not work well here. At home we have been resisting the urge so far this year, bedroom AC being our last resource if it gets really really hot and impossible to sleep.

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Water and fruit are your friends

As in most places that have seasons, Spanish winter and summer menus are two very different things. A hot meal is the last thing you want, but gazpachos, salads and watermelon straight out of the fridge is the real thing. Most fruit and veggies are in season and many of them don’t have to be cooked.

The vegan trick to cover at least the legumes (because dark leafy greens are not really happening that much), is adding chickpeas or tofu cubes to those salads. And hummus, a lot of hummus.

While most summer fruit and vegetables are full of water (that’s what I think about when carrying watermelons home, it’s basically just a fancy container for water), you still need to drink plenty of it. Water, lemon water, kombucha, room temperature herbal teas (natural rooibos is very nice for this!), and an occasional IPA are the drinks of my choice. Not the crappy sugar waters, I have watermelons for that!

I have a few tricks that make me drink more water. For example, when I fetch my first kettle at work, I also fill my glass with cold water. I have only 1 glass at work, so then I have to finish that cold water before the tea water boils (and I can start brewing my herbals).
And I always leave a big glass of water on the table when going to bed. I normally wake up several times per night, and that water both hydrates and refreshes my morning breath.

Ginger and lemon second fermentation kombucha. Foamy, sparkly, and not made by Coca Cola, Ltd.

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Chub rub and what to do about it?

I sweat a lot, my thighs touch, and I like to walk long distances. In warm weather this combination often ends in chaffing and pain. I tried the “use deodorant on you thighs” strategy and I’m not impressed. Talc-based baby powders (stay away from it and google why!) and this Lush product also have their cons: bathroom full of white powder and rather limited staying power. But it helps to get dressed in those mornings when putting anything on seems impossible. I cover myself with the powder, get my dress on (while trying to avoid stains) and get out of the door. Then there is no way back! As all Lush products, this one is extremely fragrant. To make sure I don’t smell like a Lush shop and to make it last longer, I mixed the original powder with the same amount of cornstarch. It’s already cornstarch based, so it mixes seamlessly, smells a little less intensely and lasts twice as much. With the next one I might shift the proportions to 2:1 in favor of cornstarch.

I haven’t tried or read the ingredients on this product, but sounds promising if you like to have the big pharma on your side (and between your thighs).

An alternative to creams, powders and potions is not sweating that way. It took me a stupidly long time to realize that an additional benefit to bicycle commute is the absence of chaffing, unless I do many kilometers in heat. I’ll take backpack-sweat over chub rub any day, thank you very much!

Another option is looking into shorts as an underwear alternative. Preferably ones you already have.

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What are your tips for heat survival? Have you had to fight the Northern obsession with sun while you should’ve known better? What’s your favorite summer recipe?