Saturday, November 24, 2007

Windy

Вчера по една чиста случайност (търсейки "Приказки на прибалтийските народи") попаднах на този блог. Страшно ми хареса, съдържанието, настроението, но особено стила на писане. Рядко се случва да намеря нещо, което така да ми допадне, в мрежата, особено стил на писане. Препоръчвам го горещо.

Edit: Тя не харесва "Градът на Бога". Намира го за скучен. Знам за разнообразието от вкусове, но да намираш "Градът на Бога" скучен, значи да си го гледал със затворени очи и запушени уши. Той е гениален филм.

Зори

Това е Зори. А това е статия първа от моя проект за създаване на каталог на моите приятели. Правила съм го и преди, но на хартия. Сега тук.

Зори е моя приятелка от 6 години и една от малкото, с които станах приятелка скорострелно, за седмици след запознанството ни. Естествено имаше благоприятни обстоятелства това да се случи, но имаше и доста крайно неблагоприятни обстоятелства, които биха представлявали сериозни пречки пред създаването на едно приятелство - затова аз обичам да си мисля, че неслучйно се срещнахме и събрахме с нея. Знам, че понякога и тя си го мисли, но не знам дали й харсва. (Зори, ако четеш, заповядай в коментарите и хвърли светлина върху тоя въпрос.)

Ще цитирам един наш общ приятел (Живко) - Зори просто кара хората да я обичат. Излъчва мощни хипнотизиращи вълни, вероятно, но е факт. Не можеш да я познаваш повече от 10 минути и да не я обичаш. И изобщо не си говорим за благ характер или мило поведение тука, повярвайте ми. Тя просто дращи по подсъзнанието ви и напоява създадените браздички със себе си.

Със Зори ме свързва много, но преди всичко самият факт на приятелството ни. Много пъти съм откривала, че само тя знае какво да ми каже и какво да направи, когато нещо ми се случи или когато попадна в някаква ситуация, или дори когато просто драматизирам, защото ми е скучно. Зори никога не ме съди. Тя някакси винаги разбира как и защо, що се отнася до мен. Познава ме толкова добре. Мисля, че само със Зори мога да общувам без да се правя, преструвам и играя поне мъничко. Тоест само с нея мога да бъда напълно естествена и открита, защото не желая да се крия или преправям пред нея.

Естествено двете се забавляваме ужасно много заедно.

Ако искате да разберете повече за нея, посетете профила й в shelfari.com - zornitsa d. Книгите, които чете, говорят доста за нея.

Разни факти: тя е зодия везни; обича да върши всичко под формата на ритуал; нещата бързо й омръзват, след като успее да се пребори с тях; пътуването с нея е доста трудно; през свободното си време почти изключително чете; носи предимно зелено, кафяво, черно и сиво; тя е много, много умна, както и да разбирате тази дума; мрази градския транспорт; обича мълчанието; обожава шоколад и чай.

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Baltic tales


When I was little, I had books with fairy tales form all sorts of countries in the world. My favourite one was Fairy Tales of the Baltic People. It was navy in colour, with glossy hardback and smooth thick pages, and beautiful illustrations, which I remember used to scare me a little bit - which I now realise means that they were good illustrations - and by a different Baltic artist for each country. I read these tales repeatedly and enjoyed them immensely each time. So they comprised my knowledge of the Baltic region, and it never occurred to me that I would some day make direct contact with the world that produced my beloved glossy book with my real, physical senses.

I am ever so glad I eventually did. I spent four days in Riga and felt elated almost the whole time. Beautiful town. Art nouveau centre under the open sky, pink and ochre walls, a mylliard of little towers and spikes on red-bricked buildings, paved streets, devout lovers' names engraved on padlocks on the bridges. We had traditional Latvian food, found a delightful bakery where we had cake and real coffe for breakfast each morning, walked and walked the streets, ventured the local clubs (not so nice) and visited the Occupation museum, advertised as a must-see in the Riga journals we got at the hostel. It was indeed moving, and horrifying too, and I found it touching that they had set up this museum, which is supported through vistors' donations, in order to comemmorate those who lost their lives and dignity during the violation of Latvia's freedom by Soviet and Nazi oppressors, and to show the world what Latvian people have been through.

It was also great for me personally that we were a big group of people doing stuff together in that totally unknown city, like just walking the streets and reading their funny names, taking pictures on canon guns and weird bright red papier-mache rabbits, having meals, waiting in a queue for 40 minutes at 2 o'clock in the morning in order to have a McChicken combo, sleeping in the same dorm room and sharing a single bathroom for 15 people (fun), looking at the town sinking below us while travelling to the 25th floor of a hotel at sunset - stunning, simply stunning! - and so the list goes on. It was bonding, for me. So it was precious.

But the best part was that we happened to be there on Independence day, so we got to experience the national holiday pride and see prety much every inhabitant at the city, as wll as the country's military might in the parade. Standing among the crown of nation-proud people while their national anthem was playing, in a chilly wind by the river, was just exhilarating. And in the evening, breathtaking fireworks over the river!!! Oh, it was a beautiful experience!

On the downside, it was very expensive. But that's all on this side :)

Now back in Jyvaskyla, where I have to bury myself in studying. Oh well. You have fun, you pay the price for it.
Pictures made by Valerio, Martin and me.

Monday, November 12, 2007

Ella

Was it in Tahiti?
Were we on the Nile?
Long, long ago, say an hour ago
I recall that I saw your smile

I remember you
You're the one who made my dreams come true
A few kisses ago
I remember you
You're th one who said,
"I love you too,
Didn't you know?"
I remember too
A distant bell
And stars that fell
Like rain, out of the blue

When my life is through
And the angels ask me to recall
The thrill of them all
Then I shall tell them
I remember you

...

Снощи сънувах Иван, беше в бяла риза и огромен, не както в действителност. Смееше се и се радваше да се видим пак. Ужасно ми липсва.

Wednesday, November 7, 2007

Сняг, снежец - бял, беленичък!

It's snowing today! Excitement wells up inside me and I feel restless and exhilarated. I browsed the web for winter poetry and songs and came across a wonderful Bulgarian-French site for Bulgarian folk songs. Pure beauty they are, especially the Rhodopean ones - here goes one of my favourites:

Да не си се юплашило,
невесто хубава, невесто гиздава,
кога дойдат сватовете,
при тебе, за тебе, невесто хубава,
кога дойде лудо-младо,
при тебе, за тебе, невесто хубава,
да открие бело вало,
от лице, от лице, невесто хубава,
и йоткачи тельовете,
од глава, од глава, невесто хубава!

And a very rough translation:

Fear not,
o pretty bride, bonny bride,
when matchmakers come,
when they come to you, when they come for you, o pretty bride,
when your beloved comes,
when he comes to you, when he comes for you, o pretty bride,
to lift your white veil,
to uncover your face, to uncover your face, o pretty bride,
and take off the hair pins,
from your head, from your head, o pretty bride!

And another one (I can't help it!):

-Фатмиш, майчина дощеро,
оти се, Фатмиш, забави?
-Забавихме се, мале ле,
сиво ми стадо премина,
та ми водица размотьи,
та чеках да се отмотьи.
-Фатмиш, майчина дощеро,
стара са майка не ложе,
стари са татко не мамьи,
чьорни са очи плакали.

"Fatmish, my daugther,
why are you, Fatmish, so late?"
"I am late, dear mother,
for a grey herd passed through,
and muddled the water,
so I waited for it to become clear."
"Fatmish, my daughter,
you cannot lie to your old mother,
you cannot fool your old father,
your black eyes have shed tears."

On a different, but equally pleasant note, we had a genuine Italian dinner last night, which was a lot of fun, and quite cosy, not to mention delicious. The pasta was home made in the most literal sense of the word - the gradmother of one of the Italians (who was our cook) had made it herself and sent it to him.

I love it when it snows!

Tuesday, November 6, 2007

.

How do you know if something is real or an illusion if you passionately want it to be real? And doesn't this desire signify something more than desperation?

Monday, November 5, 2007

A magical journey

Surprises come in so many different shapes! In a second everything you thought you knew about yourself can be upturned and gaily mocked by the Grand Designer, who/whatever s/he/it is, while you're struggling, trembling, to copmprehend what it all means. I don't care what it means. I can't remember feeling this way for too long a time.

St Petersburg is magical. The thought of these four days fill me with hot air, lift me off the ground and leave me hovering about, feeling joyful, feeling festive, feeling actually happy!...

I wish with all my heart I would remember every bit of it as vividly as I have it in me now. The Hermitage and the sunset-tinged Neva outside its windows, surrounded by Rennaisance splendour; Nevsky prospect at night and day; the sushi bar, tense with revelations; the frosty wind on the river and my hair flying over the plastic shampagne cup; the baroque grandeur of Catherine's reign; the handsome Russian faces and their piety before the gates of the churches; my snow-sprinkled scarlet muffler in the whismical graveyard; the bridges, the souvenir vendours, the cyrillic letters everywhere, this whole breathing city full of stories and superstitions, of history, hugeness and vibrating life - it's got to be unforgettable. It all opened me up, let me out, enabled my feelings and, put very simply, made me happy.