In the end, it will all be just a memory.

You don’t learn a country from “Best Hidden Beaches in somewhere.”
You learn it from someone complaining about council rates while fixing a fence in the rain.

That’s anthropology.

You understand a country faster through what people argue about.

“We love the Lord, and the Lord will include us;

Share the love of the Lord, come on down to Saint Judas.”

Reverend Greene was kind of, singing-rapping, in season 12 of “The Brokenwood Mysteries”.

With his Kiwi charm, he is trying to absorb locals, and maybe in an international level, to the Brokenwood community of the church attendees.

I don’t think they have any idea on how much they are loved, on this side of the planet.

They have no idea how famous they are in some families, and how much their show takes priority over every other series airing here.

Movies like Frankenweenie and Holland, and even American Pie, make it so much easier to explain why the Midwest can be a haunting place.

These films clearly show—and confirm—that there are major flaws in the Midwestern society, and in America as a whole.

Even that woman’s voice, the way she speaks, the way she emphasizes things—everything shows how much they tried to make the film accurate. Yes, it looks scary. But the bigger fear is that strangers really get this feeling when they live there.

The locals are trapped in a kind of cycle—a routine they can’t break out of. But outsiders see it, and they understand. And when they talk about it or try to escape, others think they’re crazy, hysterical, or paranoid. But the truth is, the more sensitive you are and the more intelligent you are, the more you realize how frightening the Midwest is—especially those upper states.

I used to talk about Iran’s problems, for ordinary people, who lack support. And people would mock me, and call me too much.

And now they understand. Out and in, no matter where they live, they do realize what it meant to be an ordinary Iranian.

The scariest part is, as long as they haven’t lived that situation, those movies seem superficial, absurd, or, I don’t know, unreal; maybe sci-fi, even. “How can a country survive, and become leader in everything, if these movies are its perfect examples?!”

But to those people who have lived through it, damn!

“Ladies, gentlemen. I think the confusion here is that you are all very ignorant. Is that right word, ignorant? I mean stupid, primitive, unenlightened. You do not understand science, so you are afraid of it.”

Then, Mr. Rzykruski quits, or kind off force quits, or gets fired; and leaves, forever.

It’s not just that. It’s everything that happens. It seems far from reality, I know. But sentence by sentence, word by word, scene by scene, those movies have pictured everything.

Who would have thought that the French have a cake called croquembouche, made of lots of cream puffs stacked together? It’s basically a tower of cream puffs. And why should Oceania have that, but not here?!

Australian tv shows are absolute opposite of anything you see in the western world.

They are festive, calming, and, although you will see actual incidents happening all over the show, they are not overly exaggrated.

There is this peace, I have not figured out how they manage that, in these tv shows. Ordinary people, doing ordinary things, and somehow, it feels noble, clean, and pretty.

I sit by the tv, drink some tea with family, and I watch.

It feels reviving after work.

Australians know how to run the show business.

And they always tackle real life issues. You get to learn a lot from them.

New Zealand is the same, but with drier humor, and more serious tone.

I love these two countries.

There is this feels like home, old, clean taste in the smoky teas.

Reminds me of my childhood. Of the times people would go all the way to smoke something, to make it, tasty, traditional, if you may.

Savannah felt different than what i felt in other places.

Savannah is one of the few American cities that kept most of its historical structure. Its cemeteries, squares, houses, and streets remain intertwined with daily life. In many places in the U.S., older or uncomfortable history gets demolished or hidden. Savannah didn’t do that.

So subconsciously, when you walk there, you feel a place that accepts its own story instead of pretending it never happened. That creates a strange sense of psychological honesty.

Savannah was built around 22 garden squares. Every few blocks you run into trees, shade, benches, and quiet space. That layout literally lowers stress levels because your brain keeps moving between streets and small parks. It’s nature.

Your nervous system interprets it as safe, calm territory. That’s why it can feel cosy or even intimate. Because it’s considered part of nature in your mind.

Old cemeteries and monuments sit right within the city. Instead of pushing death to the outskirts, Savannah allows it to exist alongside everyday life.

That tends to create a subtle feeling that people there are more comfortable with the cycle of life and death. When a place doesn’t hide mortality, it often feels more emotionally grounded.

The Spanish moss, humidity, live oaks, and slower coastal air create a sensory environment that naturally feels reflective.

It’s almost like the whole city runs on a slightly slower emotional frequency.

Places like Charleston, Wilmington, or Madison can be charming, but they often feel more social, commercial, or performative.

Savannah feels less like it’s trying to impress you. It just exists. And that authenticity is what many sensitive people pick up on immediately.

Places amplify what you’re already carrying inside. In other words, the city didn’t create the emotion — it made space for it.

And when a place does that, people remember it for the rest of their lives.

Honestly, I should never have been to Madison.

Autumn has arrived in New Zealand!!

It’s beautiful!

Arrowtown is all about the colors!! Leaves are sparkling yellow and orange on the trees!