an entry from my travel-log:
Lost in the sea of rosemary as it sedated my senses and sut my legs into bloody lines (i still got the scars ). Lines and piles of rocks laid to level out the hillside for planting, rise from the shadowy wet bramble and served as momentary resting islands. Ana and I stood on these rocks looking at the road below, from which we turned and began to climb up this hill about an hour before. The growth was much thicker than it looked from the road. The road below, to the left and right of us the same endless ocean of rosemary, pines and thorns with white piles and spines of white stones, above was the top of the hill. With each attempt through the bramble the top moved further and further up, causing us to curse, at first under our breath, and soon in short loud words, directed not an each other or the hill, but the stinging sensitivity on our shins, thighs and arms, and at the growing possibility of spending hours like this without water or shelter before we reached a field, path or a road. The beach on the other side of the mountains was the reason we chose a shortcut over the hill, instead of following the curvy road. Traversing sideways we crawled over to the sunny side of the slope where the growth was shorter and a well-preserved stone spine lead up a major portion of the hill.With each move falling into the wet fragrant and evermore thorned abysses of the hill. Untouched by humans the branches and grasses resisted us by slashing and whipping, but we moved through with the sheer intention of survival. No helicopter was coming, and there was no choice but to take turns in stomping the path and moving on. Reaching three or four step tops, two or three hours in, we saw a valley of fields on the other side. A brief hallelujah, but the way down might be hours away. Lines of rocks formed right angles suggesting the history of houses: a shepherd's hut, a town or a fortress, who knows. Allowing ourselves to stop and rest for a few minutes, we took a few sips of the precious water. I checked up on the ukulele, which was sticking out of my backpack, wrapped in Ana's shirt. It was miraculously unbroken and intune. Among the rosemary, salt, pine, fermented grapes and our sweat, I discovered a centimeter-long black thorn in my leg and tried to push it out. Ana went at it with her longer fingernails, a key, and a pen-end, but it was too deep and our efforts only created a small bowl of bloody meat soup in my flesh. The climbing, the oxygen and heaven's landscape numbed the pain and we stopped only to descend and hope for a road below. The road appeared in a few minutes and we rejoiced in being able to step straight, swinging our arms, no thorns grazing each movement. I blessed the creation of roads and we ate a bitter-sweet pomegranate picked at the roadside on the edge of town. A few hours later we reached the holy Milna and its beach and swam in the warm dusked Adriatic waters. On the way back we passed vineyards and olive groves. It was wine making season in Croatia and the full clusters of grapes were sweet and satiating. Two hand-fulls each, we made it our dinner. We got back to our camp by sundown to wash off the blood, grape-juice and dust and watch the moon rise.
Friday, December 24, 2010
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
some tips and proverbs
the road to nowhere is paved with dead cats (especially in eastern europe and the mediterranean)
golden teeth don't always speak golden words, but sometimes they do (i knew i was close to home when i saw my first full gold teeth smile of an old man in bosnia . old diamond braces got nothing on this guy)
a good song it worth a thousand miles (singing to your hitchhiking ride entertains both of you and eliminated the time you have to try to talk without speaking a common language. learn some songs if you want to travel)
the cardboard core of the toilet paper roll turns out to be quite soft and absorbent (take any chance to stock up on napkins)
golden teeth don't always speak golden words, but sometimes they do (i knew i was close to home when i saw my first full gold teeth smile of an old man in bosnia . old diamond braces got nothing on this guy)
a good song it worth a thousand miles (singing to your hitchhiking ride entertains both of you and eliminated the time you have to try to talk without speaking a common language. learn some songs if you want to travel)
the cardboard core of the toilet paper roll turns out to be quite soft and absorbent (take any chance to stock up on napkins)
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
petah tikva roadkill blues
(Stationed in the suburbs of Petah Tikva in the house of my mother and her husband until I can hit the road again, I spend many hours walking. The road shows me many things, and one of them is inescapably roadkill.)
The dead cat hung on the fence like a lost glove. At first I thought it was a stuffed toy when I caught a glimpse of its head and front paws, soft grey and white, like a real kitten. I wanted to take it with me, but of course such a nice toy would be missed and someone will surely come and find it and a small child will delighted. I realized it was a dead cat when I walked into the stench and then closer to see the flies making their way into the feast through the eye-sockets, mouth and the soft skin around the loosely hanging claws. Head and front paws flipped over toward the street, on the other side a bloated gut and stiff tale with a snapped tip sticking out of the limp spine like an old radio antenna.... or like a dead cat's tale. The fur was still intact, but under the skin organs and bones sagged and moved distorting the firm kitten body into a baggy corpse. After standing on the narrow sidewalk by the highway alone with the cat, trying to understand everything, I kept walking towards the park, to sit on a bench and think about things and I can and cannot take part of mending, and about the cat I left hanging on that fence.
The dead cat hung on the fence like a lost glove. At first I thought it was a stuffed toy when I caught a glimpse of its head and front paws, soft grey and white, like a real kitten. I wanted to take it with me, but of course such a nice toy would be missed and someone will surely come and find it and a small child will delighted. I realized it was a dead cat when I walked into the stench and then closer to see the flies making their way into the feast through the eye-sockets, mouth and the soft skin around the loosely hanging claws. Head and front paws flipped over toward the street, on the other side a bloated gut and stiff tale with a snapped tip sticking out of the limp spine like an old radio antenna.... or like a dead cat's tale. The fur was still intact, but under the skin organs and bones sagged and moved distorting the firm kitten body into a baggy corpse. After standing on the narrow sidewalk by the highway alone with the cat, trying to understand everything, I kept walking towards the park, to sit on a bench and think about things and I can and cannot take part of mending, and about the cat I left hanging on that fence.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
a postcard
Ode to dumps
My voice still as shaky as you remember, yet full of enthusiastic nostalgia and melancholy, I hum along to "The Ballad of Mary and Rosemary" as it plays in my head. Tonight I watch the dusk, and with it the end of Shabbat, over the glowing hills and holes of the dirt lot dump behind my mother's house. An elegantly trashy palm tree is silhouetted against the dusty peach sunset. I feel strangely safe at dumps and this particular one is mostly rubble from unfinished or demolished houses - cinder blocks, rusty rods, tiles. Closer to the houses, piles burnt plastic, pieces of outdated household appliances and naked Barbies with selectively remaining limbs line the hems of the field. A landscape striking me as another planet, or a movie set, especially when entering in from the paved and fenced suburbia. But this must be the secret subconscious of our world and it's abandoned charred grace stands as almost more natural than a forest of a lake. It's a history book, a memoir, a museum, a backseat, an arena. It's the scarred surface on the moon, innocent of its disfigurement, ominous, beautiful. I'll be in Israel for a few months learning how to walk (and then may be take some dance classes).love,
anya
Saturday, December 11, 2010
south wind, memories of corfu
two days ago the first rain in weeks fell in israel. deep warm thunder and lightning last afternoon, as I had my first stick shift driving lesson. last night rain came but the wind that carried the clouds brought with it desert sands from the south and has grown stronger as the sun rose higher, bending small pomegranate trees towards the ground and ripping the ripened pecans off the tree and throwing them with a thump against the plastic tables and chairs in the yard. the air is full of gold, sky like gold threaded silks of a tent, diffusing the sun evenly, leaving little shadow. everything is glowing, shining like silver and copper. the metallic leaves of the lemon tree flicked in the wind as my eyes fill with dust each time i go outside to take in the magnificent scene. i love storms, rain, thunder, lightning, but a sand storm, an ancient inhabitant of the desert, is a very special event. a biblical event, timeless and almost supernatural, especially to my fair-skinned western sensibility. well, eastern european really, but fair-skinned nonetheless. each storm is like a trip - it takes you into a tunnel where you remember every trip you've had and can feel the ones to come.
this storm reminds me of the storms on corfu in greece when ana and i sat on the roofed veranda overhanging the Aegean sea. i watched each sunset like a play, rushing to get home, take a shower, get dressed, make dinner and sit down, facing the sea and the sky and watch, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence, for a couple of hours. after a hot day of bending down over piles of olive branches, picking of each one, taking out the leaves, sorting, looking down at the ground all the while, to look at the sky and the water was the crown of the day, the payment for all the labour and stress of working for a tooth-and-claw greek family. i saw two great storms, one of them was on our last night, when we had to sleep on the beach, due to a disagreement with the farmer husband pigman, who vomited up his economic frustration (there is a serious depression in greece at the moment) at us in the form of harsh words. we left that day and camped on the beach along the row of hotel fronts and beach bars, vacant in mid-november. we spread out the sleeping bags and hung our clothes in a roofed wooden dance floor. our clothes were soaking, because we left before we could take them out of the washing machine. a rough end for a magical stay on an island, but so it goes. it was time to leave. as we spread out our things, and ate the little food we managed to grab as we left, we rolled up the present that nikos, one of the step-children in the pigman's family who was in the underground with us sneaking and hiding around the house to avoid the totalitarian regime. with his generous blessings we entered dusk and the mystic dimension of night.
The horizon was clear and we watched the sun's disk disappear into the the sea until the curlved top dipped into the water. standing on our heads all the while. one really must try to stand on one's head at least once a day, especially at sunset. the wind was gentle and a few dogs came running up and down the beach, playing with each other and tumbling across our humble abode once in a while. they were castaways and happy about it, just like us, and soon we accepted their company, or they accepted theirs, since it was their beach after all. later that night the smaller of the dogs, a black and white spotted mutt, slept curled beside us, guarding us from the corfu ghosts, which voiced themselves in the waves and falling branches of the night storm. As the sun set, clouds rolled in from the south, from the middle east and across the Mediterranean. clouds full of hot air and salty water. having traveled a long way they were ripe with rain and the changing atmosphere of the greek mainland would burst their full bellies letting out a generous flood, much awaited by trees and farmers, but disabling the drivers of the whole island for a few days - when rain falls, it covers the already slippery layer of olive oil from the fallen fruits on the roads and the steep hills seem to be made of ice beneath tires and the bottoms of shoes.
The sun's light dimmed and a full bright moon rose in the east. suddenly a large spot light was turned on behind our roofed shelter and sharp shadows were thrown onto the beach in front of us. for a few minutes we sat discussing what could that be, and ana said that she was scared to go look, because if it really was a spotlight, then we were not safe somehow and we were not alone in our peace. i thought it must have been the moon, but together our paranoia fed both of our fears and we sat huddled staring at the grotesquely industrial shadows on the cold sand. eventually i got up to look at this mysterious spot light. was it coming from a hotel, a helecopter, a UFO may be? we had to find out, because the night's magic was not accessible to us with such a fear. i peeked backwards over the roof, and there she was - the moon. clear and bright and white as a shell. suddenly the sand became warm again, and the shadows no longer grotesque, but lulling and deep blue and magnificent. knowledge brings light, but knowledge takes courage. the clouds kept approaching from the south-west, changing shapes, turning the water to the most magnificent and other-worldly shades of indigo, when suddenly we noticed an abnormally sharp shape in the clouds. a needly, like a wasp's stinger protruded from a low dark cloud on the horizon and grew longer and longer until it touched a boulder rising above the reef. we closed our eyes and opened them again to see if the darkness and our mystified state of mind were distorting our vision, but there is was, long and thin, and now moving in and out of the cloud, undulating, breathing, reaching for the rock and receding back into the cloud. a water tornado. this was the synoptic side of my brain speaking. but we are in greece, nothing is just a storm, just a cloud or just a wave. it's always zeus' wrath, a reclining nude athena or a siren washed up on the beach. so this was no old water tornado, although the idea of a rapidly spinning pillar of water and debris coming towards us, us who were scattered at the edge of the water exposed to the elements and the whim of spirits and protected only by a thin roof. that thought was enough to put the fear of god or gods into us. but, no, this was no ordinary water tornado, this was, as we calculated from further observation and discussion, this was a tail of an ancient sea creature taking up the opportunity and riding a cloud in order to cross the mainland of greece to the other side of the mediterranean without having to swim all the way south and around the peninsula. of course! and somehow, when the water tornado turned into a tail, things began to make more sense and we loosened the iron grip we both had around each other and sat there discussing the travel patterns of mythological creatures, especially those dwelling in the sea. it rained madly all night, but as we situated our sleeping bags in the middle along the back wall of our shelter, the whipping water was just short of reaching us and we were safe, dry and warm. when i woke up in the middle of the night a few times when the rain got so loud, the small spotted dog sleeping near us would look up at me and ensure that everything is alright and i can go back to sleep. i slept soundly till dawn.
the morning was quiet and clean, and it was a time-to-get-a-move-on kind of morning. the clothes were nearly dry and a much lighter load. we packed up, finished the oranges and the little bit of water we saved, packed and left poseidon's beach. he sure treated us well in those few weeks. the pigman has a lot to learn from him in hospitality matters. many sunsets seen and many lessons learned, we left the island a few hours later, catching a couple back-to-back rides and just making the ferry. later that night we found ourselves in athens.
this storm reminds me of the storms on corfu in greece when ana and i sat on the roofed veranda overhanging the Aegean sea. i watched each sunset like a play, rushing to get home, take a shower, get dressed, make dinner and sit down, facing the sea and the sky and watch, sometimes talking, sometimes in silence, for a couple of hours. after a hot day of bending down over piles of olive branches, picking of each one, taking out the leaves, sorting, looking down at the ground all the while, to look at the sky and the water was the crown of the day, the payment for all the labour and stress of working for a tooth-and-claw greek family. i saw two great storms, one of them was on our last night, when we had to sleep on the beach, due to a disagreement with the farmer husband pigman, who vomited up his economic frustration (there is a serious depression in greece at the moment) at us in the form of harsh words. we left that day and camped on the beach along the row of hotel fronts and beach bars, vacant in mid-november. we spread out the sleeping bags and hung our clothes in a roofed wooden dance floor. our clothes were soaking, because we left before we could take them out of the washing machine. a rough end for a magical stay on an island, but so it goes. it was time to leave. as we spread out our things, and ate the little food we managed to grab as we left, we rolled up the present that nikos, one of the step-children in the pigman's family who was in the underground with us sneaking and hiding around the house to avoid the totalitarian regime. with his generous blessings we entered dusk and the mystic dimension of night.
The horizon was clear and we watched the sun's disk disappear into the the sea until the curlved top dipped into the water. standing on our heads all the while. one really must try to stand on one's head at least once a day, especially at sunset. the wind was gentle and a few dogs came running up and down the beach, playing with each other and tumbling across our humble abode once in a while. they were castaways and happy about it, just like us, and soon we accepted their company, or they accepted theirs, since it was their beach after all. later that night the smaller of the dogs, a black and white spotted mutt, slept curled beside us, guarding us from the corfu ghosts, which voiced themselves in the waves and falling branches of the night storm. As the sun set, clouds rolled in from the south, from the middle east and across the Mediterranean. clouds full of hot air and salty water. having traveled a long way they were ripe with rain and the changing atmosphere of the greek mainland would burst their full bellies letting out a generous flood, much awaited by trees and farmers, but disabling the drivers of the whole island for a few days - when rain falls, it covers the already slippery layer of olive oil from the fallen fruits on the roads and the steep hills seem to be made of ice beneath tires and the bottoms of shoes.
The sun's light dimmed and a full bright moon rose in the east. suddenly a large spot light was turned on behind our roofed shelter and sharp shadows were thrown onto the beach in front of us. for a few minutes we sat discussing what could that be, and ana said that she was scared to go look, because if it really was a spotlight, then we were not safe somehow and we were not alone in our peace. i thought it must have been the moon, but together our paranoia fed both of our fears and we sat huddled staring at the grotesquely industrial shadows on the cold sand. eventually i got up to look at this mysterious spot light. was it coming from a hotel, a helecopter, a UFO may be? we had to find out, because the night's magic was not accessible to us with such a fear. i peeked backwards over the roof, and there she was - the moon. clear and bright and white as a shell. suddenly the sand became warm again, and the shadows no longer grotesque, but lulling and deep blue and magnificent. knowledge brings light, but knowledge takes courage. the clouds kept approaching from the south-west, changing shapes, turning the water to the most magnificent and other-worldly shades of indigo, when suddenly we noticed an abnormally sharp shape in the clouds. a needly, like a wasp's stinger protruded from a low dark cloud on the horizon and grew longer and longer until it touched a boulder rising above the reef. we closed our eyes and opened them again to see if the darkness and our mystified state of mind were distorting our vision, but there is was, long and thin, and now moving in and out of the cloud, undulating, breathing, reaching for the rock and receding back into the cloud. a water tornado. this was the synoptic side of my brain speaking. but we are in greece, nothing is just a storm, just a cloud or just a wave. it's always zeus' wrath, a reclining nude athena or a siren washed up on the beach. so this was no old water tornado, although the idea of a rapidly spinning pillar of water and debris coming towards us, us who were scattered at the edge of the water exposed to the elements and the whim of spirits and protected only by a thin roof. that thought was enough to put the fear of god or gods into us. but, no, this was no ordinary water tornado, this was, as we calculated from further observation and discussion, this was a tail of an ancient sea creature taking up the opportunity and riding a cloud in order to cross the mainland of greece to the other side of the mediterranean without having to swim all the way south and around the peninsula. of course! and somehow, when the water tornado turned into a tail, things began to make more sense and we loosened the iron grip we both had around each other and sat there discussing the travel patterns of mythological creatures, especially those dwelling in the sea. it rained madly all night, but as we situated our sleeping bags in the middle along the back wall of our shelter, the whipping water was just short of reaching us and we were safe, dry and warm. when i woke up in the middle of the night a few times when the rain got so loud, the small spotted dog sleeping near us would look up at me and ensure that everything is alright and i can go back to sleep. i slept soundly till dawn.
the morning was quiet and clean, and it was a time-to-get-a-move-on kind of morning. the clothes were nearly dry and a much lighter load. we packed up, finished the oranges and the little bit of water we saved, packed and left poseidon's beach. he sure treated us well in those few weeks. the pigman has a lot to learn from him in hospitality matters. many sunsets seen and many lessons learned, we left the island a few hours later, catching a couple back-to-back rides and just making the ferry. later that night we found ourselves in athens.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
for alex and jean-marc: 'this has nothing to do with me'
the elephant house sighs...:
'why aren't you writing down that which keeps you from breathing? may be it would help, you know, to write it down, get it out, so to speak?'
it wanders slowly towards the water and picks at broken seashells scattered along the gray sand:
'the tragedy with you is that you don't know how to just sit back and watch it all go by without feeling like you're missing out, and then you jump up and start chasing around the bits and pieces. and you want the bigger picture but how do you expect to get it when you're always out of breath...'
cats are like gypsies - appearing and disappearing at their own mysterious disposition, sending their young to shamelessly beg, they're charming and although subject to all sorts of flagellations, sacred, existing somewhere in between species, in between time zones and times of day.
a moment of clarity, a faint memory of the exorcism that took place only a few days ago. i knew my mind would fog and all the settled dust will get stirred up and flung into my eyes and lungs, but how unromantic, how sticky this feeling of helplessness is. those, like jack kerouac, who managed to turn it into a life source, a way of life, a direction - are gods. the ruthless words of rootlessness.
in the middle of some dusty village of concrete and cars, in the middle of the holy land. hiding in the garden, banging pecans off the tree with a stick. something to do. half a chameleon, some leather left around the head and the spine and ribs sticking out. i was plastered to the bed this morning, missed the sunrise. i think it's impolite to miss the sunrise.
the elephant house sighs again...
'that space in your head, the one full of nothing but light and air, clean, fresh, ringing, endless air, that's the only part of you which is alive. that's bad news for the rest of you and bad news for everyone around you who doesn't know about that space. all they see is a walking corpse, imagine that? what a funny nightmare you're in.'
dogs are like lovers from a past life.
expectations and words punctured my lungs but i am full of light and another dusk is coming over the land and i will sit in the garden and watch it change the colors of the leaves of the dry trees. i wonder how much i need to sensor myself and who cares and what does everyone else feel about facebook and email and everything. what does everyone else feel about everything? i think my greatest joy right now is to breathe. when i hit the nut tree with the stick, bunches of silver flies floated down, disturbed from their humming and sleeping in the nutshells. i can feel one crawling across my forehead.
there is an accordion player in every big city, and everywhere is full of music. you must seek the prophets and the poets. they must all be so tired and confused they don't even know who they are anymore, let alone professional pursuits. everyone rolls the end of the world around on their tongues, like a pill, relishing the milky plastic taste before swallowing. keeps you just crazy enough if taken daily to not care that much. side-effect of time warps, and taking it in overdoze is like rolling dice: may be you will end up famous as soon as you come out of the coma, or may be you'll feel exactly the same as you did before, or the coma might not lift. the above information is beta. sidewalks might be missing from sections of the route.
Saturday, November 20, 2010
future in Athens, thanks to Malin
Athens is a wonderful city, if you know where to go: Exarcheia (anarchist neighborhood, search for plateia Navarinou(squatted parking lot) and Nosotros (nice cafe with live music/theatre/cinema and cheap drinks), lycabettos hill (nice climb and view), philopappou hill (where the famous Greek philosophers held discussions, you have a nice view over the city and you can see the sea), Akropolis (it's free entrance on Sundays), Thisseio (has outside fleamarket on Sunday mornings), Monastiraki/Plaka (just to walk around, try to find the old, small white houses, with the whitepainted alleys and stairs, built against the hill of the Akropolis.
There is a contemporary art museum in Athens, but you have to ask for the exact address.
For a daytrip, go to Sounio (where the Greeks built a temple to honor Poseidon. You can take a bus from fillelinon street (wait at the orange sign), which is very close to the central Syntagma square (return ticket +- 10 euro). To get around in the city, you can do almost everything by feet, if you do want to take public transport, a ticket is 1 euro (0,50 cents for students) and you can travel 1,5 hour with all means, you can find it at most of the kiosks. No more, explore and enjoy!
There is a contemporary art museum in Athens, but you have to ask for the exact address.
For a daytrip, go to Sounio (where the Greeks built a temple to honor Poseidon. You can take a bus from fillelinon street (wait at the orange sign), which is very close to the central Syntagma square (return ticket +- 10 euro). To get around in the city, you can do almost everything by feet, if you do want to take public transport, a ticket is 1 euro (0,50 cents for students) and you can travel 1,5 hour with all means, you can find it at most of the kiosks. No more, explore and enjoy!
Friday, November 19, 2010
miracles
To Dear Malin (a friend we met on Corfu yesterday),
You are beautiful and meeting you was one of the miracles that happen in life and especially on the road, and I'm sure Ana will agree with me in her own response to your wonderful email. Today was a day I am still speechless about and this email in the first attempt I make to describe it. First, Ana and walked down to the beach a bit away from the hostel, ate the dinner, did yoga to the sea and watched the sun go down while standing on our heads. Then we sat and watched the rest of the light fade away into night, colors and shapes on the clouds and the sea changing (I hope you got to watch it as well), talking, in awe of the magic around us, also talking through the situation and realizing a lot for ourselves and finding a good lesson and making peace inside about Spyros and that day. We slept on the beach, it was warm and the rain didn't touch us, and a little white and black dog slept near us guarding our sleep all night. We woke up just after sunset and got a ride from a family up the hill and to school - he was dropping off his two thirteen year old daughters. Then almost right away we got picked up by a man from the Isle of Man from Great Britain, who drove us to Kerkyra, where we caught a ferry in ten minutes. With coffee and chocolate of the ferry, we left all hurt behind us and only remembered the good time on Corfu and thought much of you and we know you will enjoy it there, you have a clear kind heart and you will always find a way to happiness and safety. We got to Igoumenitsa, walked a little out of town and stood under a bridge looking for a ride. A big beautiful dog started walking by us, kind and protective. We found a persimmon from a tree and ate it, delicious. We stopped under this bridge and the dog stopped with us. It suddenly started hunting all the car, running after them like a lion and many of them were slowing down a lot right in from of us, when finally the dog stood right in front of a small red car with two men inside, they saw us and pulled over. At first they thought there was not enough space, but we fit in the back. They were two men coming from Albania and going to Athens. They took us all the way to Athens, bought us coffee and shared some delicious food with us, which we all ate watching the sunset on a beach by the road. They dropped us off the the bus station in Athens. It turned out that its the wrong bus station, but we were directed and took a free bus into the center, where after walking a bit lost looking for the right bus station, we stopped in front of a cafe and Ana said 'may be we should ask somebody', when a man right next to us said 'you should ask me'. He was the owner of the cafe, he borrowed a friend's key and drove us to the right bus station and we caught the last bus, with enough time to have a cup of tea before. On the bus we borrowed a phone and called the Yoga Center, but he man said it was too late for him to come pick us up from Chalkida, and we were a bit sad. Then a girl named Artemis started talking to us and by the end of the ride we had her number to meet her in Chalkida for swimming and anything else, we had $10 euro from the guys across from us, and a ride directly to the town where the yoga from was. We asked for nothing, just shared our story and all this help came. We got to the village and bought crepes and juice with the $10 euro and the Yoga Center for just five minutes away. Some people were awake and let us in and we are about to go to sleep in the living room. The journey started this morning at 7 am in Pelekas and just ended at 1 am in Agios Nikolas on the other coast. Amazing amazing day. And all the treats you gave us tasted just right at just the right moments. Also, we called Pan and we will meet up with him after we leave here, definately for the week of December 1 - 7 we would love to stay in Athens with someone and spend out last week there. Thank you for the good energy and love you sent us off with, with your blessings we make in across Greece in one day without money and without any problems.
Good night
You are beautiful and meeting you was one of the miracles that happen in life and especially on the road, and I'm sure Ana will agree with me in her own response to your wonderful email. Today was a day I am still speechless about and this email in the first attempt I make to describe it. First, Ana and walked down to the beach a bit away from the hostel, ate the dinner, did yoga to the sea and watched the sun go down while standing on our heads. Then we sat and watched the rest of the light fade away into night, colors and shapes on the clouds and the sea changing (I hope you got to watch it as well), talking, in awe of the magic around us, also talking through the situation and realizing a lot for ourselves and finding a good lesson and making peace inside about Spyros and that day. We slept on the beach, it was warm and the rain didn't touch us, and a little white and black dog slept near us guarding our sleep all night. We woke up just after sunset and got a ride from a family up the hill and to school - he was dropping off his two thirteen year old daughters. Then almost right away we got picked up by a man from the Isle of Man from Great Britain, who drove us to Kerkyra, where we caught a ferry in ten minutes. With coffee and chocolate of the ferry, we left all hurt behind us and only remembered the good time on Corfu and thought much of you and we know you will enjoy it there, you have a clear kind heart and you will always find a way to happiness and safety. We got to Igoumenitsa, walked a little out of town and stood under a bridge looking for a ride. A big beautiful dog started walking by us, kind and protective. We found a persimmon from a tree and ate it, delicious. We stopped under this bridge and the dog stopped with us. It suddenly started hunting all the car, running after them like a lion and many of them were slowing down a lot right in from of us, when finally the dog stood right in front of a small red car with two men inside, they saw us and pulled over. At first they thought there was not enough space, but we fit in the back. They were two men coming from Albania and going to Athens. They took us all the way to Athens, bought us coffee and shared some delicious food with us, which we all ate watching the sunset on a beach by the road. They dropped us off the the bus station in Athens. It turned out that its the wrong bus station, but we were directed and took a free bus into the center, where after walking a bit lost looking for the right bus station, we stopped in front of a cafe and Ana said 'may be we should ask somebody', when a man right next to us said 'you should ask me'. He was the owner of the cafe, he borrowed a friend's key and drove us to the right bus station and we caught the last bus, with enough time to have a cup of tea before. On the bus we borrowed a phone and called the Yoga Center, but he man said it was too late for him to come pick us up from Chalkida, and we were a bit sad. Then a girl named Artemis started talking to us and by the end of the ride we had her number to meet her in Chalkida for swimming and anything else, we had $10 euro from the guys across from us, and a ride directly to the town where the yoga from was. We asked for nothing, just shared our story and all this help came. We got to the village and bought crepes and juice with the $10 euro and the Yoga Center for just five minutes away. Some people were awake and let us in and we are about to go to sleep in the living room. The journey started this morning at 7 am in Pelekas and just ended at 1 am in Agios Nikolas on the other coast. Amazing amazing day. And all the treats you gave us tasted just right at just the right moments. Also, we called Pan and we will meet up with him after we leave here, definately for the week of December 1 - 7 we would love to stay in Athens with someone and spend out last week there. Thank you for the good energy and love you sent us off with, with your blessings we make in across Greece in one day without money and without any problems.
Good night
Friday, November 5, 2010
star istevnik
The old woman climbed up the wooden ladder, stick-cane left leaning on the side of of the barn. Green patterned robe and viridian apron jovially standing out against the sun-bleached dung-plastered walls, part wooden-beams, park crooked brick. Her vivaciousness and an unbreakable lust for life kept her walking, sane and insatiably curious about the details of everyone else's lives, anyone who cared to share. Perhaps that curiosity in turn served at the fuel and engine for her beating heart. six, seven planks up, she was able to peer into the blanket and hay floor, walnuts scattered, drying, slowly eaten at breakfasts for a lack of a warm meal, yet in their own way a luxury. open walls let the low autumn sunlight graze the blankets, keeping out mold and letting the sharp macedonian frost settle and reign at night. information gained, the old woman climbed down, and tossing fruity macedonian phrases out of her musty rare-toothed mouth, she proceeded to examine the house and the few adjacent shack structures, containing preserves, dishes, tools and other unnamable but inevitably useful things. Refusing coffee (for the reason on having had one earlier that morning), turning down a cigarette (to my surprise, since most old women passing through maja's yard require one of us to produce a fag) and passing by an offered apple (both sets on front teeth are missing), the woman whose name I gathered to be Polka, asked a few more general neighborly questions, shared with me in hand and facial expressions a gentle reproach toward the ever-barking Johnny (or Jonka) and went on her way, through the vegetable garden and out the opening in the old fence and into the labyrinth of village houses and yards, through which she navigated with the mastery of an old wind-worn sea captain.
Monday, November 1, 2010
macedonia
bits and pieces:
im still alive and in macedonia in a small village in the mountains with fourty people, ten of whom are officially crazy and the other fourty including us, are unofficially so. the mountains and forests are unbelievably beautiful, the nights are frosty and the dogs all work as werewolves at night. im living for free on a farm, but the girl just started the community and its off season, so there isnt much to do, but walk and drink water and rakia with shopska salata, look at the amazing mountains and keep putting wood in the stove when the night comes, because its very cold here at night. i missed ana by one day, she left six hours before i came. i guess she needed to keep moving. i understand, i have the same feeling. to greece in a few days and may be i will find here there. i want to make nettle stew for the people in the house, and then off i go. the locals come visit and bring things often, so its definitely a new crown to hang out with. im still a bit sick. there is a guy here with a guitar and maja (the owner of the house) likes to sing to and has a few drums around, so there is a good bit of music, but its bitter sweet for me without rob and will.
very limited internet access
writing a lot on paper
much love
anya
im still alive and in macedonia in a small village in the mountains with fourty people, ten of whom are officially crazy and the other fourty including us, are unofficially so. the mountains and forests are unbelievably beautiful, the nights are frosty and the dogs all work as werewolves at night. im living for free on a farm, but the girl just started the community and its off season, so there isnt much to do, but walk and drink water and rakia with shopska salata, look at the amazing mountains and keep putting wood in the stove when the night comes, because its very cold here at night. i missed ana by one day, she left six hours before i came. i guess she needed to keep moving. i understand, i have the same feeling. to greece in a few days and may be i will find here there. i want to make nettle stew for the people in the house, and then off i go. the locals come visit and bring things often, so its definitely a new crown to hang out with. im still a bit sick. there is a guy here with a guitar and maja (the owner of the house) likes to sing to and has a few drums around, so there is a good bit of music, but its bitter sweet for me without rob and will.
very limited internet access
writing a lot on paper
much love
anya
Wednesday, October 20, 2010
too much, just enough, and nothing at all
one month on the road and only three days down with food poisoning. not bad, may be the moving is keeping my mind and body cleared, not allowing it to become stagnant. a point of slight regret: not traveling with a gig. i got the ukulele, but one must be really good to be able to entertains anyone with that gentle instrument. gypsies came into the balkans and settled working at dancers, singers and blacksmiths. now they still dance and sing... and beg. but most are begging while acting, or entertaining in some way. one must always be ready to offer something, a story, a smile, an intelligent dialogue, or a drawing when on the road. those travelers who grow bored, tired or claim that 'this place has nothing to offer' are best to be avoided. its easy to catch the mood of others at times when traveling alone, but you find yourself gravitating towards people and places that are best suited to your sensibility at the moment, and the more tuned in one can become with this sense, the smoother and more adventurous ones travels become. i have been developing a discipline of 'the walk', especially essential to big cities. first one must set a simple goal such as: 'find that music show i saw yesterday to play on that amazing pink guitar that i almost decided to buy', or 'find the best burek in town'. second, go for a walk in order to achieve this goal. third, after trying to get to this initial simple goal you will get into a walking groove and either will achieve your goal or not, but you will be able to keep walking for much longer and find may more things you had no idea you were looking for such as: a hedgehog, a rosegarden in a muslim cemetery, a peeling wall, a cat, a view of the sunset sky, a church, a person. its like a walking meditation, but has a much more chaotic structure in cities then in nature, because as a human being, you will be relation, voluntarily or not to the society you happen to be walking through, and you will probably 'not fit in' since you dont have friends or projects here, and that can get you down, but dont let it get you. writing help, especially writing for someone, in a form of a letter even if you never find it. drinking coffee and people watching helps, and drawing of course. im in beograd now, just got here and will be for a few days. then either to romania for a few days to visit friends i met on the road and stay at their place for free (yay) or right down south to macedonia to join ana on the farm. the to greece. i crave nature, hard work and simple life of stability. it will be a vacation from wandering, a temporary place of settlement. the rhythms of the road.
Monday, October 11, 2010
mostar, bosnia
i'm in an amazing hostel in bosnia. i have no digital camera, so here are some pictures. i have to go, my breakfast is getting cold.
http://www.google.ba/images?hl=bs&q=mostar&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&biw=1152&bih=698
http://www.google.ba/images?hl=bs&q=mostar&um=1&ie=UTF-8&source=og&sa=N&tab=wi&biw=1152&bih=698
Saturday, October 9, 2010
waiting for the sun
I have to skip the day on the road from zagreb to split, hitching across croatia for now and start from last ngiht.
me and my bobbby mcgee playing in my head on repeat for the past few days, until last nights camping. now listening to it in headphone in the cafe by the computer. two nights now we have slept out on the beach. first on a pebbled rock ledge right over the water, overlooking the harbor. last night we walked further away from town, around the peninsula and found another nudist beach sign. as we found out they are bound to be deserted in october - off season here, and the nudists are rarely locals, vis being a conservative christian community. a narrow rocky path wound us around tall blond grasses, flowers, rosemary, pines and low stone walls to a cove overlokking the sea and far mountains, pink and lavender in the coming dusk. the land mer the water with sharp volcanic ledges, going into deep sandy bottom, allowing for a safe descent. on a dry grass stone step we made camp, no tents, just pads and sleeping bags, trashbags pulled over us - the morning sea dew is heavy as rain. a meal of rye bread, sardines, cucumber, nuts, raisins and wine, we quietly watched the dusk in our cove, our ancient pasture hills, the sea and the mountains on the horison. the waves, the crickets and the passing distant motorboat the only sounds. first stars the big dipper. i had nothing better to say than the waves, so i didn't say anything. until the sun went down and the sky multiplied in the thick white milky way from horizon to horizon. total peace, the mumbling and music in my head went completely silent, for the first time in months, sine the fields of vermont. i really had to say nothing, just hear and sit and look. the changing light, the winds, the constant waves and russle of water and grass and rosemary, making a wholesome sense of time. we fell asleep looking at the stars, timeless. i woke up a few times in the night, from chills and troubled dreams,. in the morning i lay curled up, waiting for the sun, watching in graze slowly down the hills towards our still sleeping bodies, until it touched the edge of my sleeping bad i could not move. the sun is so easy to worship to when living from day to night, from cold to warm, from water to draught. the sun brings back warm reality, just when the night visions become too murky. a breakfast of nuts and raisins. i took off all the nights layers and swam in the warm clear water, my body free and open to the sun, with noone else around. we hid our bags in the bushes and headed to town to write, get some coffee, get a little fit of janis and led zepplin while i write this. also to get some sardines, the crow of each banquet, and some local red wine.
me and my bobbby mcgee playing in my head on repeat for the past few days, until last nights camping. now listening to it in headphone in the cafe by the computer. two nights now we have slept out on the beach. first on a pebbled rock ledge right over the water, overlooking the harbor. last night we walked further away from town, around the peninsula and found another nudist beach sign. as we found out they are bound to be deserted in october - off season here, and the nudists are rarely locals, vis being a conservative christian community. a narrow rocky path wound us around tall blond grasses, flowers, rosemary, pines and low stone walls to a cove overlokking the sea and far mountains, pink and lavender in the coming dusk. the land mer the water with sharp volcanic ledges, going into deep sandy bottom, allowing for a safe descent. on a dry grass stone step we made camp, no tents, just pads and sleeping bags, trashbags pulled over us - the morning sea dew is heavy as rain. a meal of rye bread, sardines, cucumber, nuts, raisins and wine, we quietly watched the dusk in our cove, our ancient pasture hills, the sea and the mountains on the horison. the waves, the crickets and the passing distant motorboat the only sounds. first stars the big dipper. i had nothing better to say than the waves, so i didn't say anything. until the sun went down and the sky multiplied in the thick white milky way from horizon to horizon. total peace, the mumbling and music in my head went completely silent, for the first time in months, sine the fields of vermont. i really had to say nothing, just hear and sit and look. the changing light, the winds, the constant waves and russle of water and grass and rosemary, making a wholesome sense of time. we fell asleep looking at the stars, timeless. i woke up a few times in the night, from chills and troubled dreams,. in the morning i lay curled up, waiting for the sun, watching in graze slowly down the hills towards our still sleeping bodies, until it touched the edge of my sleeping bad i could not move. the sun is so easy to worship to when living from day to night, from cold to warm, from water to draught. the sun brings back warm reality, just when the night visions become too murky. a breakfast of nuts and raisins. i took off all the nights layers and swam in the warm clear water, my body free and open to the sun, with noone else around. we hid our bags in the bushes and headed to town to write, get some coffee, get a little fit of janis and led zepplin while i write this. also to get some sardines, the crow of each banquet, and some local red wine.
Thursday, September 30, 2010
words
when you panic you grab the steering bars so tight and you can hardly breathe and maneuvering becomes torturous and nearly impossible, and you might get to where you planned to go, and if you do, you will be exhausted and remember very little of the journey. but if you relax, the panic will leave and even if you are just learning to ride, it will become pleasant and much easier to ride. and you will still arrive at the destination you were originally orienting yourself towards so passionately, but you will have breathed fresh air, noticed much beauty and gotten better at riding a bike. and here it is, today's nine hour long conversation boiled down. relaxing not in the sense of limpness and lifelessness, but in the sense of relaxing to survive, relaxing because if you don't, you will crash, break your neck, or even worse - be constantly unhappy not only with the world around, but with your own life efforts. zagreb's last words of wisdom for me tonight before we split to Split. goodnight
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
slugs
thick yellow slugs dot the path to hrelich. today is the first sunny day in a while and they crawled out to warm their oozing flesh. some slowly move across the gravel, crossing from one side to another, others lie motionless in their half-dried yellow guts. beginning from the stairs leading down from the railroad on the bridge and the entire twenty minute walk to the market people are selling things spread on the ground, clothes, metal parts, cosmetics, shoes. the market itself, hrelich, has existed for forty years, as i said, at the foot of the city dump mountain. its mostly run by gyspies who collect things through out the city and dumps and buy things in bulk. but others come there too to sell as a hobby, to talk, to bargain, to look at the others. the place has an atmosphere of twilight zone, tarkovski and gogol bordello, with an underlying sense of infinite posibilities and peace. some zagreb people call it church. living wednesday to sunday, hrelich to hrelich. im continuing with my disposable camera project and just finishing the second roll of twenty seven today. i cannon post any images here, too complicated technologically, so you will have to find me when i get back. may be ill have a whole exhibition of this, sound, photos, drawings. ill have to look for a space somewhere in boston. coming home from hrelich today we entered a fashion model shoot taking place at the apartment. minimal black while and beige shoot for a friend who is going to paris for fashion week. its like that here, trash and luxury inspiring each other, inseparable. met new people at the market, milan and friends. going to see them tonight. another crop of zagreb alternative underground intelligentsia scene... cheers
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
tu tudu tudu tutudu tu tudu tudu tutudu
lou reed, bob marley and the pixies accompany us at our breakfast in another zagreb kitchen. our new host is tomi. tomi is a thirty three year old doctor in the psychiatric hospital. tomi enjoys wine, smokes seldom but with pleasure, loves having guests more than anything and for the past three years has taken a decorative theatrical photograph of every one of them. tomi is from dubrovnik, which where most of the croatian blueblood comes from.
tonight tomi, ana and i are hosting a dinner party for ten with the theme of sculpted food, mostly buildings and animals and of being as comfortable in and with your body as possible, costumes or not, clothes or not. we will cook together when tomi gets home from work at the mental hospital. tomi apartment will be the setting of this play/photoshoot/dinner/dance party. there is the plastic bambi, the red phone, the vast collection vintage lamps and chairs, mirrored serving trays, tall cealings and dark blue living room furniture. it's got a blue velvet feeling to it.
the difference between honest silence
and false speeches
beestings my chest
to unravel the knots without getting bored
circus performace and audience swtich places
the safety of the dark rowed seats no more
the warmth of converstation
we cling to it even closer where on the road
while dreaming of honest silence
wednesday we are going again to the gypsy flee market. a got another disposable camera, twenty seven market pictures. some call hrelich (the market) church. it's every sunday and wednesday all year and one can confess and listen to the beautiful sermon of barter and rubble.
a rainy morning with rainy thoughts. sending blessing to all the lovely people who might be reading this or thinking of me and each other. we live day to day and to be more decisive about who we will love forever will make us happier. i love you today even if i know you much screw me over tomorrow. diana from the old crackchaos apartment waved that phrase around like a banner.
good bye and i love you
tonight tomi, ana and i are hosting a dinner party for ten with the theme of sculpted food, mostly buildings and animals and of being as comfortable in and with your body as possible, costumes or not, clothes or not. we will cook together when tomi gets home from work at the mental hospital. tomi apartment will be the setting of this play/photoshoot/dinner/dance party. there is the plastic bambi, the red phone, the vast collection vintage lamps and chairs, mirrored serving trays, tall cealings and dark blue living room furniture. it's got a blue velvet feeling to it.
the difference between honest silence
and false speeches
beestings my chest
to unravel the knots without getting bored
circus performace and audience swtich places
the safety of the dark rowed seats no more
the warmth of converstation
we cling to it even closer where on the road
while dreaming of honest silence
wednesday we are going again to the gypsy flee market. a got another disposable camera, twenty seven market pictures. some call hrelich (the market) church. it's every sunday and wednesday all year and one can confess and listen to the beautiful sermon of barter and rubble.
a rainy morning with rainy thoughts. sending blessing to all the lovely people who might be reading this or thinking of me and each other. we live day to day and to be more decisive about who we will love forever will make us happier. i love you today even if i know you much screw me over tomorrow. diana from the old crackchaos apartment waved that phrase around like a banner.
good bye and i love you
Sunday, September 26, 2010
patina culture
''that reminds me,'' she said '' that lamp over there had a blue bulb in it once. we sat in this room for thirty six hours with this blue light. and it was there because that was the only light bulb we had and i didn't realize that it was blue until i opened the shades and looked out the window and the whole world was bloody red. i was so confused and then i realized we've been sitting in this room for thirty six hours in the blue light, smoking, drinking and all the colors were totally twisted. it took a while to adjust to this strange scene outside.''
here you wake up in the morning at six or seven to the base being flipped on and madonna or 'where is my mind' filling the apartment. the blinds go down, the boxes of cigarettes get piled into the middle of the table and that 'afterparty' commences. the club lets out at six and it's always irma's place. they are building up the patina. sunshine or open air will harm the process, oxidize the delicate veils of dust and sweat and the charm will the shaken, disturbed. always night here for days in a row. onstage but hidden from the audience, the audience being only the actors themselves, veiled in the fog. then when the day is finally presented through the open windows, everyone comes out into it with this secret potion in their pocket. back on stage, the audience of the street stares with judgement, expectation, suspicion, bright in the sunlight of their reality. but the musk of the night's patina clings to the clothes, sweet and rancid, like anything here. like lipstick over a scab, electric blue eyeshadow on an eight year old girl. a wooden idol with years of blood, milk and honey poured over it in offerings. patina.
Saturday, September 25, 2010
theater
foggy scenes floating in and out of each other the smoke and the curtains over the day's light conceal the time of day and night comes into the morning experiencing the youth of a postwar country got rid of the rainy day and sleep came when the rain came and now another night calls out to dance dance dance life is a play and each must do the part assigned. here it is especially clear to everyone and noone questions to the job that must be done. get into the cab and put on a play. cabs in zagreb are the worst! so expensive! ask for the registration and throw it on the floor! no, i'm not getting out so keep driving i'm your customer! then, half way through get out with a scene and get into another cab, praising the cheaper price. in the end you pay only half and the bargain is played out as the ancient ritual calls for. a brilliant performance, tomy, sealmess. off to the coast on monday and to detoxify and see the world outside of this escapist apartment. doing well, very well. much recorded and drawn. goodnight
Thursday, September 23, 2010
short plays and delicate moments
chicken paste - it's as common as peanut butter and jelly, except they don't serve peanut butter and jelly in restaurants before meals, and here they do! and if you sneak your own extra chicken paste, you can add it to the side of potatoes and have a full meal for the price of an appetizer.
walking - a cure for stupid questions
rakia - a brandy made from plums, a very sweet and strong balkan specialty
hvala - thank you
ukulele - i bough one today and hope to learn to make it sound like music. four chords down, all more to go
meat - it's just meat, what is your question
dusk - be outside for as many dusks as possible. they are beautiful in every city.
yellow houses - are a great element of any town because they reflect the light and make everything look warm
nemci - means 'germans', in russian too. coming from the word 'mute'
belgrade - where we are going. where the ships stand sunken into river. where ivan the painter will take us to a circus
bronners soap - good stuff for trips
mama - i love you and miss you
thank you
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
another night in zagreb, serbia dreams
ivan from belgrade showed us his childhood drawings today. belgrade in the 90's must have been full of one legged daggerheads, lustlful babyzombies, bandaids that never worked, teeth and holes. lucky to take a look at someone else's kid arts. he's having a painting show tomorrow. a painter from belgrade. we might hitch out of here tomorrow. cities are full of suggestions. when one no longer needs suggestions, it's time to go. we are sleeping tonight, not last night. the place is full of people, smoke, beer, tv, radio, sex, dogs, cats, croatian words, speed. people my age here take the hardcore escaping route, no detours. growing up here, especially, can do that. we took the tram to the outskirts today and walked along the river and the road to herlich, the gypsy flee market. we got there by early sunset and the market had already ended, but what was left were piles of clothing and things, and a few other people picking through the rubble. we joined them for a few hours. wandering with the crows, quiet everybody submerged in their own reasons for being there. the sunset illuminated the bright heaps, with the perfect accent, i found a mickie mouse shirt that i liked and a few papers, notes, photographs, music scores. back to the city, stopped by a off road buffet and managed, after some gesturing and shreds of russian and english to order 'meat and potatoes', salad and beer on the side of course.
the women we are surrounded by in this appartment speak in deep voices of smoke and yelling. articulated, animated, alive in this chaos. noone really knows anything for sure in general, the point is to realize that and move one.
i don't know who is reading this, but if you are i'm glad. it's good for a person to know someone is thinking of them, even sometimes. this is a city with quiet streets, but houses full of noise. people pray at night here, and talk talk talk all through the night, every night. new people come and they talk and there is no end of beginning to anything, not to a cigarette not to a beer for them, just keep going, food sleep? they are too young to worry. many dream of going to new york, of course. there are many old trees in the parks and the mountains cup the city from the sides. learning a new language. mind is fluid and eyes are wide open eating. we want the road soon, out of the city. cities full of desires, we look like beggars and all beggars must move along someday. many lovely people we met though, all are welcoming yet in their own wild world we are but passing shadows.
i don't know if i'm getting to abstract or dark here, but it's 2 am, and i'm just giving you the raw stuff coming out of my fingers. there are a few of you i miss painfully, i must admit. but the journey goes on, and eli, your advice is received. thank you.
ghost towns and gypsy lips
good night
the women we are surrounded by in this appartment speak in deep voices of smoke and yelling. articulated, animated, alive in this chaos. noone really knows anything for sure in general, the point is to realize that and move one.
i don't know who is reading this, but if you are i'm glad. it's good for a person to know someone is thinking of them, even sometimes. this is a city with quiet streets, but houses full of noise. people pray at night here, and talk talk talk all through the night, every night. new people come and they talk and there is no end of beginning to anything, not to a cigarette not to a beer for them, just keep going, food sleep? they are too young to worry. many dream of going to new york, of course. there are many old trees in the parks and the mountains cup the city from the sides. learning a new language. mind is fluid and eyes are wide open eating. we want the road soon, out of the city. cities full of desires, we look like beggars and all beggars must move along someday. many lovely people we met though, all are welcoming yet in their own wild world we are but passing shadows.
i don't know if i'm getting to abstract or dark here, but it's 2 am, and i'm just giving you the raw stuff coming out of my fingers. there are a few of you i miss painfully, i must admit. but the journey goes on, and eli, your advice is received. thank you.
ghost towns and gypsy lips
good night
Monday, September 20, 2010
zagreb, croatia
ana and i are in croatia staying with good people, a friend of ana's friend from nyc. we are drinking chamomile vanilla tea with honey and getting ready for sleep. took the train from slovenia to crotia in three hours. tall pale mountains in the horizon, pink in the dusk. nap on the train, ate a dinner of sardines, rye bread, dried fruit, bananas and blueberry liquor. slovenia was much like austria then a balkan land. we went to a bar called kolaz (means collage), people who looked much more like us then we have been used to. good people. the city is a collage, life and history here seems like the process of making a collage. layers, shapes, yellow houses, pink houses, yugoslavia, war, the war effected some, others live without thinking about it much, but some walls still have bullet marks on them. ornate baroque churches. we are asked what it is that we do? teaching, painting, teaching painting, sculpture, we write, we travel, we look to bring people together in art communes, getting off of facebook, reading more, becoming more aware. tomorrow we are going to the fresh market to get breakfast items, then to the museum of contemporary art, where a friend is working in the morning, then gallery opening, then an experimental film festival opening, then the after party of the gallery opening, and the gypsy flee market is in the morning. sleep sleep going to sleep. not reading this over today, so no spell check. love
ljubljana, day three
ana is here. so good to have a sunny partner. continental breakfast with local mushrooms across the ochre river this morning. hostel bed gave good sleep. autumn air, chilly outside, fresh. manz bridges in his town, deep breathing. tomorrow we hitch to bled, a city on a lake, perhaps camping. camping in croatia for sure. we will walk and walk and look. gypsies are waiting in serbia, ana will want to go there one more time and show me the maroon houses, the ghetto fields, the plastic bottle trash and the old women, giving free food to strangers at bus stations. we are warm and healthy, although the air in cold. slovenia is balkans but very westers in its manners. macedonia in octobers. greece in november. ive been eating carrots and i think i can see better. when we camp we will paint. ana is coming soon, we will plan the day. gather supplies, forces, energy to keep mind open. hostel room of four bunk beds, bodies sleeping deeply breathing, strangers in slovenia. a few are mid-twenties, out of college out of work. what's new? this is a good place to be in our case, pefect. the crossroads, the gateway of europe. ana comes soon, i go.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
in ljubljana, slovenia
i'm in ljubljana. it's raining and i just woke up. one a.m. before sleep went to the supermarket and bought some rye bread, chicken pastet, goat cheese, grapes, a grapefruit, kefir, tea and chocolate from the maximart. a fine meal, although i don't think i'll get the chicken paste again. art project, yes. what am i going to do for this art project. i ate and slept and washed myself and bought a 5 liter bottle of water. the basics taken care of. now what? ana is not here yet, i hope she's warm and dry somewhere. the mind is a landscape, the light on which changes rapidly fleeting. ljubljana is an old town by the river with many bridges, low colorful buildings, stone-paved streets, visitors, looking, slowly walking. willows hang over the river and the park has a few very old mossy trees. ljubljana losely means 'lovely'. it's dark outside and raining giving some time for silence. when the sun rises and sunday comes i will go look at the city again. may e find the museum or an art store. i brought some gouache paints with me so i have a way to record colors. a graphic novel, though. how to gather thoughts and experiences into a story. alright, cheers, till next time.
anya
anya
Monday, September 13, 2010
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