After Christmas, New Year and Epiphany, i woke up to the reality.  Events of the last few months remain unsolved, no need to bore you with details though. So it was with mixed feelings that yesterday i spend some hours in the kitchen with my mum frying dreams. I know this is a weird name, and i know Lucy Pepper doesn't like them (she hasn't tried mine yet, so there's hope…), but these precious pumpkin deep fried sweets are a favorite portuguese tradition during this season. Of course, if they're not done properly these sweet dreams can become your worst nightmares. Even my can't-be-bothered-to-show-any-pleasure nieces love them...

Anyway, while i was putting them in sugar and cinnamon i tried to imagine if 2010 will actually be better than the evil 2009. I'm sure it will. So will the decade. Still nameless, apparently. An Australian newspaper promoted a contest to find the best expression. THE ONE-DERS won. "It was the bright-eyed optimism of the ONE-DERS that won the judges' affection", said the paper.

So I'm ready for the ONE-DER years of the ONE-DER decade. (and remember sweet dreams are made of pumpkin!)
::

Printen are delicious biscuits, originally from Aachen, Germany.  They can be found all year round but are very popular during Christmas Time. A german friend is very skilled at baking them, using cute baking tins, like bunnies. Last Easter she offered me a dozen or so which i enthusiastic ate: first the ears, then the head, then a little paw… They were great with coffee. At that time, a friend visited me with her 3 old child and i shared with them some nice, crispy Printen. As soon as i started biting the bunny biscuit poor little B. bursted into tears. "Mummy she's eating a bunny… and he was smiling at me".  Ever since that day she never look at me the same way, not even attracted by Toby, the house dog… So never use a cute baking tin if there are toddlers around… Just make plain rectangles as in this classic recipe:

Ingredients:

500g flour

400g treacle

75g raisins and a little rum

75g candied orange peel

75g candied lemon peel

1 tablespoon mixed spice (cinnamon, anisee ground)

1 pinch cloves (ground)

1 tablespoon baking soda

Treacle and almonds to decorate

To prepare:

First soak the raisins in the rum, heat, then allow the raisins to swell and absorb the rum. Dissolve the baking soda in a little water and stir in small cubes of candied orange and lemon peel. Stir together the flour, treacle and mixed different spice, add the swollen raisins, baking soda and candied orange and lemon peel and mix well. Refrigerate the mixture for around 3 to 4 hours. Roll out the mixture between two pieces of cling film to a thickness of approx. 1cm, then carefully cut into 3cm x 7cm pieces.  You can make bigger rectangles if you like. Stir the treacle with water, then brush onto the Printen with a pastry brush. Decorate it with the almonds (or sugar syrup or chocolat bits if you prefer) and bake at 190°C for approx. 15 minutes.

When they're ready and cold store them in a tin box. They're good as well without the raisins (as the one in the photo).

1 - Train

As the train got near the station, a group of university students raised their voice. This time they weren't discussing about endless football, girls/boys, movies or stupid videogames as it is usual in this 20 minute suburban trip. They were talking about Copenhagen. They said something like "they already fucked up things". I could feel guilty as hell and probably blushed.

2 - Skepticism
As much i would love world leaders to follow the example of Boris Johnson in London, i suspect the security people would do harakiri if Obama suddenly deciding biking in the streets of Copenhagen. The "climategate", the duel on drafts or the fact that the conference is itself a huge CO2 producer have raised more media debate that the main issue. Skepticism might just be what we don't need at this point.

3 - Changes
I also think i need to do some drastic changes to lower my carbon footprint. So, as from today, i shall end some nasty habits, including eating chewing gum, having the kitchen smaller light on, the computer all day on when i'm not working (this includes wasting time on Twitter and Facebook). I will only buy recycled toilet paper and recycled napkins. And all bottle wines must have cork stoppers and not stupid plastic. Eventually i will try the extreme reusable silicon menstrual cup, as I was convinced by the imaginative Vanessa Farquharson during an interview about her book "Sleeping Naked is Green". 
My walks to the recycling eco-point - already my hardest exercise - must double by the end of the year and all the used food oil has to be taken into the council "Big Oil" deposit. (memories of last trip, with oil spilling all over previous car, must be erased through hypnotherapy first...)

P.S. After writing this i discovered with sadness that Vanessa is closing her inspirational blog Green as Thistle.

Riding a bike in Berlin comes naturally, even if you’re there only for a few days. My first visit to the German capital happened in the first days of September as I was working on a feature article for a Portuguese travel magazine. The Wall fell 20 years ago and besides the Berlin hot spots I needed to see a lot of exhibitions and special events related to the shameful Wall that divided families and a entire city. As usual in this kind of missions, days are too short to see and do everything, so if I really wanted to cover most places, see all the events and go the Brandeburg Thor and shout to the world Ich bin ein Berliner I needed to hire one. My German friend and photographer is nothing less than a female Lance Armstrong so I trusted her when she told me: “Relax, this is not Lisbon. It’s easy to bike ride in Berlin and car drivers are really careful and polite”.

As the city is so bike friendly most hotels have bicycles for hiring and others even have it for free. My hotel, in Tiergarten, had it for 10 euros a day. The first obstacle however was to get one bicycle to fit me. Mediterranean people (and I’m an average 1,64 m) may feel a bit awkward to try these enormous North European bikes made for giants. I really felt like a hobbit when I tested several and my feet didn’t touch the floor. Finally, after half hour of frustration and laughter, I found one which eventually allowed me to touch the tip of my toes on the asphalt. Needless to say they were all male bikes just to make my life more difficult… and some bruises in some really sensitive areas…

With all these tiny details solved, Ruth and I run through Berlin during one day and night. From Tiergarten to the East Side Gallery - where the largest section of the Wall is still standing with the brilliant artist paintings - from the Jewish Museum to Prenzlauer Berg, I was able to enjoy a beautiful and exciting ride through the once divided city. Sometimes, she would loose me and would have to come back and search me in the middle of the crowded bike paths on the sidewalk.

The experienced bikers ignored the way I step on the tip of my toes on the crossroads and that was just fine because I really looked a bit silly on that giant bike. I even started to develop a technique on the crossroads when I had to stop: I would grab the next traffic light (in Berlin, the funny little man called Ampelmann, different from elsewhere) and avoid stepping off the pedals.

At the end of the day I was really feeling confident. As we crossed the fabulous island of the Museums I saw the tram tracks but didn’t care. I was so happy with my pace and the wonderful buildings by the Spree river and wishing for a drink on the beach (yes, Berlin has the best beach bars!). Suddenly, I was flying like a missile and landed near a café packed with Berliners sipping beer and coffee. And it was not a poetic flight. The bike wheel got stuck on the tram track and I surely amused the people on the café with my flight manoeuvre. A gentle taxi driver stopped to help me, and asked if I was ok, as did a fellow biker, but I felt so ridiculous that I jumped immediately from the road and tried to look cool with the pathetic big bike, that suffered less than my bruised knees, hands and ego. Ruth was far in the lead, with the yellow shirt, and when she looked back to warn me about the dangerous tram tracks she couldn’t help a worrying smile: “There she goes again”, she thought, remembering another fall in Madeira… And as usual, she was right. Car drivers were really careful and polite… In Lisbon the taxi driver wouldn’t bother stopping…