We went to a friend’s housewarming party this afternoon. Though I thought about giving them a maple tree to plant in their backyard at the beginning, I finally picked pink cyclamen with a decorative white ceramics pot as the gift.

It turned out a wise decision, as when I got up there, I saw many people actually brought in out-door plants. They were all piled up in one corner in patio area and our hosts were too busy greeting guests to pay attention to them. While my cyclamen pot was an instant solution to brighten up the living room, solely and exclusively. It’s been put on their coffee table right in the middle of the room and it went very well.

I spent most of my time in door as it was warmer. People outside tried to make an open fire in a big bucket. Apparently they had a lot of fun. My husband was helping with BBQ (this is his specialty, remember?). People laughed and talked. I caught up with some of girlfriends, but still didn’t make sense about how they are doing and what’s happening in their life. Nobody really wanted to talk about it and got down deeper than what could be disclosed. After all it was a social occasion, and it’s pretty much about you showing up, grabbing some bites, talking to people you know or don’t know about something unimportant and you telling the host that it was a great party.

I like our hosts a lot, and I am really glad for them to get their own house for the first time. But I didn’t enjoy the party at all (it took me a while to acknowledge my feelings as I didn’t want to admit it initially). I instantly lost my interest to hang on to it once I knew that there weren’t many interesting people out there (at least I didn’t get to meet one). I actually got very very bored at the end, sick of listening to two old ladies talking about food options for diabetics and their journey to make friends with western people in a dancing club.

But it was even worse when we got to another young couple’s place later tonight. I can’t see they cared anything else more than themselves, their apperance, the vehicles they own and the money they want to earn or had lost. I don’t see compassions in them and they don’t have a bloody clue about helping others; and they don’t even bother to do some little things for their own country.

All I can see that night were two empty souls, one with one-hour’s make-up job hanging on her face. If they are not kids of my husband’s best mates’ friend, I would never regret if I don’t see them any more.