In January I…
…travelled back to Vienna after Christmas break,
…still had (umm, still have) Christmas decoration up,
…was exhausted most of the time, and spent the majority of my days off at home, wearing knitted cat slippers (because in my heart I’m still three and a half years old),
…ate lots of red and orange food (and lots of junk food too, which is not pictured here because I am pretentious),
…bought fresh flowers for the first time in like, two years (my life is clearly not the same instagram-worthy bliss of twee perfection everyone else seems to experience lately),
…took (a very few) walks in my neighbourhood,
…photographed some butterflies (living ones, this time),
…got this pear from my patient, an elderly Bosnian lady. She assured me that I can safely eat it, because “it’s halal”. I have a deep respect for people who are committed to a certain way of life because of their faith. Maybe because the only thing concerning religion I really believe in is that it does not matter at all.
…completed my two months long rotation on the cardiology ward and started my next rotation period of code duty, on the ICU,
…climbed all the 343 stairs to the top of the Stephansdom. This experience made me recognise the sad fact, that the last time I was fit for life, was the day I gave up getting tennis lessons five times a week (at the age of seventeen. A long, long time ago it was, a dreary time it is),
…and looked over
the freshly renovated roofs of the Stephanskirche Vienna.