WALKING INTO A NEW ROOM IS A COMPLETE DIFFERENT EXPERIENCE THAN WALKING OUT OF ONE. WHEN ARRIVING AT A NEW SPACE YOU HAVE TO GIVE YOUR BODY SOME TIME TO BLEND INTO IT AND TAKE IN ALL THOSE STIMULI WHICH ARE BEING THROWN AT YOU. IT IS INTERESTING TO SEE HOW THE SPACE SHIFTS AS YOU BECOME FAMILIAR WITH IT, AS IF YOU WERE TRIPPING ON PSYCHEDELICS WHEN ENTERING. ONCE YOU ARE FRIENDS WITH A ROOM, YOU ARE NEVER ABLE TO VIEW IT IN THE SAME WAY AS THE DAY YOU MET.
THIS ROOM IS CALLED PETRALAND.
PETRALAND HAS ALWAYS BEEN PRESENT IN THE MIND OF PETRA BUT NEVER BEFORE SHE HAS BEEN ABLE TO EXPOSE IT. WHEN ENTERING PETRALAND YOU WILL BE ENGAGED IN AN EXPERIENCE FULL OF ART, MUSIC, FOOD, PHOTOGRAPHY, MOVIES AND FASHION. PETRALAND REFERENCES ALL THOSE THINGS WHICH INSPIRE PETRA AND WHICH WE HOPE ONE DAY WILL INSPIRE YOU.
“Un desayuno prepotente” (“A pretentious breakfast”)
I woke up early that morning because there was a mosquito flying around all night interrupting my sleep. I´ll explain the correlation: I was trying to sleep when the mosquito started attacking me as if I was the only human alive and he was never going to be able to suck on anyone else’s blood. This caused me to fail my mission of reaching the REM stage of my sleep. Which worked as a chain reaction and led to my early wake up. I do not like mosquitos.
Like I said, I woke up early because of a mosquito. However, I was not that annoyed because that meant it was breakfast time, and I love breakfast. It is the best phase of my day. When I was a kid I never had breakfast, probably why I was always angry at the world. A spoiled nihilist kid.
My breakfast follows a methodological process, divided in three stages and which is key to my happiness. I first have hot water with lemon and read the news about the global apocalypse which is taking place. First, “El País”, spanish national newspaper. Then, “El Diario Montañés”, a local newspaper where I read about all the beautiful beaches we have in my hometown and how they are becoming the Covid-19 new summer residence. I then move on to the “BBC” where I have found some of the most stupid articles ever written, soon they’ll confirm the queen is a Lizard. Finally, I end up reading the Costa rican newspaper “La Nación”, why?— wish I knew. Once I conclude our humanity is not engaged with the concept of “solidarity” and question my moral decisions on how I should be interacting with the world during this crisis, I shred a little tear. This makes me realize I am alive, which means it is time for the second stage of my breakfast. “The Porridge”.
“The porridge”. It’s like D-day. What a stage. My ultimate favorite stage of the breakfast process and probably one of the biggest highlights of my day. Keep in mind, “The Porridge” is not any porridge. It is sometimes embarrassing for me to admit but unlike most porridges, which tend to be cheap and food of the proletariat, my porridge is best friends with the bourgeoisie. It is not regular porridge, it is teff (some other type of grain) porridge and comes in these tiny little packages which are already rationed for you and I have to further ration because they are so stupidly expensive, yet delicious. Maybe I am still that spoiled nihilist kid after all… Anyways, I pour hot water into the porridge, mash a banana and mix it. I then add the heavenly and precious coconut yogurt and some peanut butter. I stare at the beauty of my porridge bowl for a few seconds before inserting my first spoon. A very tiny spoon, so it lasts longer. Once I finish it I stare at my, this time empty, porridge bowl again and think about how excited I am of having another porridge next morning.
The final stage of my breakfast is the coffee. I love coffee. I am annoying with coffee. As someone who loves coffee, I do not like any coffee. Thankfully I am not as annoying as my brother, who likes coffee so much it would be safer to say he does not like coffee. Most likely he will not like 99% of the coffees being drunk that morning. I normally have an espresso with some hot water on the side. It is also quite a nice stage of my day.
Breakfast is over. A new phase of the day begins. I like to call this phase “The Waiting”, the waiting for my next bourgeoisie, methodological, annoying, nihilist yet romantic breakfast.