Δευτέρα, 26 Οκτωβρίου 2009

Σάββατο, 24 Οκτωβρίου 2009

A beautiful poem

First saw it on the tube in London




I Sing of Change by Niyi Osundare (b.1947). Born in Nigeria, Osundare studied at the Universities of Ibadan, Leeds and York (Canada), and is Professor of English at Universities of New Orleans and Ibadan. He is an intensely political poet and a dedicated campaigner for human rights. His award-winning Selected Poems were published by Heinemann in 1992.
"Sing on: somewhere, at some new moon, We’ll learn that sleeping is not death, Hearing the whole earth change its tune.”
W.B. Yeats
  • I sing 
  • of the beauty of Athens 
  • without its slaves 
  • Of a world free 
  • of kings and queens 
  • and other remnants 
  • of an arbitrary past 
  • Of earth 
  • with no sharp north 
  • or deep south 
  • without blind curtains 
  • or iron walls 
  • Of the end 
  • of warlords and armouries 
  • and prisons of hate and fear 
  • Of deserts treeing 
  • and fruiting 
  • after the quickening rains 
  • Of the sun radiating ignorance 
  • and stars informing 
  • nights of unknowing 
  • I sing of a world reshaped 
Enjoy friends!

Warning by Jenny Joseph

Warning by Jenny Joseph

A long and instructive weekend


Or:Why I am never driving through Bulgaria again
Or:Authorities and people in three Balkan countries
Well about ten days ago I was invited by my friend Andrea to go visit her in Tirgu Mures in Transylvania.On a whim and against her sound advice,I decided to drive rather than fly or take the train.Moreover,I decided to drive all through the night along a route that was totally unknown to me for its greater part,the reason being twofold.Firstly,I wanted to go through Bulgaria and Romania at night in order to get to know people and places better-I am (still) a firm believer in good Balkan relationships-and seeing the people after dark is a great way of really getting acquainted.A second thought occurred to me:It would be a chance to cross the Danube by ferry instead of along a border bridge and a river this mighty has always aroused my curiosity.
I began my Journey-Mission from Thessaloniki at 7.45 pm on Friday.The first 300 km were uneventful and quite fast-by 11 I was some 65km before Sofia and even called my friend to brag.And then the traffic jam began,one long hour to get to Sofia.Add one more to find the road towards Vidin(you see the signposting in Bulgaria is very interesting:there are signs leading you off the highway-at least that's what they call it,for its greatest length it's just a two direction A road by international standards-and then no signs to tell you whether you should turn left or right.And in their majority they are in the "very well known"Cyrillic alphabet(I bet EVERYBODY can read it easily).After help from indeed very helpful petrol station and restaurant assistants I did find my way along the A1 highway to Varna,off which I was to turn to Vidin later.Soon enough and despite thick fog (and slow driving consequently)I was on the road to Vidin,clear skies and a moonlit night.
And then it hit.As I was driving through the otherwise pretty town of Montana(and I must mention here that in Bulgaria and Romania you get to drive through towns and villages even along big roads,a fascinating habit as you get to see the local architecture and the fact that in Bulgaria the main roads of most towns are cobblestoned)at about 3 in the morning I was flagged by two police officers,I knew I was not speeding so I naturally stopped and asked them what the matter was-in English of course!They said DOKUMENT!! in an authoritative tone and I showed them(this word I understood)my passsport,driving licence,etc.Their next word was(they spoke in single utterances)BAGGAGE.I understood that as well and flipped open my boot,to no comment from them.Their next move was to show me by hand gesture that I was to follow them -and I did.At the police station where apparently they took me-I can recognise one even without being able to read the language,they all look so official everywhere-another officer(their next in rank?)started firing questions at me in this wonderfully exotic Slavic language of theirs.I had not a clue what he was saying of course and I did make efforts to communicate in German,Italian,Greek.To no avail.So they turned to each other these Neanderthals-I wish I could have taken photos-and then started examining the contents of my rucksack(my waist bag seemed uninteresting to them),paying no attention to me.They seemed fascinated by my PDA.I did try to say INTERNET to them,pointing at it.No response.And their cells did not look inviting at all so I just shut up and waited.There was another rapid questioning by the big guy later-no communication again,more idle sitting for me and more of their tinkering with the palmtop.Luckily,about 3 hours after my happy meeting with those gentlemen,I remembered that my lawyer wakes up early and speaks Bulgarian so I gave her a ring(THANK YOU THANK YOU VODAPHONE ROAMING!!!) and she -on open speaker-spoke to them and me.She even called the Greek embassy in Sofia,who responded quite fast,and at about 7.30 I was motioned to get going.From a subsequent call to my lawyer I discovered that I looked suspicious to these bright investigators-what was a Greek in a private vehicle doing driving in the middle of the night in Montana,Bulgaria?A secret agent most likely,trying to destabilise the regime!
It took another 90 minutes to the ferry port outside Vidin,just to find the ferry leaving.Typical!So I asked for the next one,they said -in excellent Bulgarian of course-one hour and I waited,looking at the magnificently slowly flowing Danube(it is really blue!) and managing to have a somewhat English conversation with the duty free shop assistant who informed me that there are no ferries between midnight and 6am.Not that I was planning to drive back the same way,heaven and Montana police forbid!,plain curiosity.
Did they say one hour?Oh yes,it was two after all.A quarter after boarding the ferry I was on Romanian ground.
Do you know what a VIGNETTE is in Romanian? I certainly did not.However,a rather pretty and sour Romanian uniformed lady insisted on saying the word to me.Eventually and with the help of someone who spoke Greek it dawned on me that this is a ticket like thing one must buy at the border,a little piece of official looking paper that allows one to travel along Romanian roads(later I was to discover that even Romanians must have it to be allowed to travel outside their towns and I had the good ?luck to know about it back in Bulgaria,oh yes later later).So I took out a crisp 50 euro note(it cost 3 euros) and proffered it.Needless to say,no change and a lot of pouting on the sour lady's side.Not even change in lei they would offer-I wouldn't have minded.So about an hour later,after change had been collected from others and after a finger after finger computer typed receipt(most likely,all in Romanian) I was given my precious vignette(I discovered it again deep under my windscreen back in Greece) and started to drive off .And then,,,,,,,a n immaculately dressed in blue suit gentleman stopped me to demand 6 euros for port tax,yet another thrilling paper in Romanian.Seemingly,any vehicle landing on the port of Calafat must pay this tax.And they do not even bother to do vignette and tax in the same office.Why waste a good queue after all?

My journey to Tirgu Mures via Craiova,Pitesti and Brasov was pretty uneventful,allowing me to admire each and every town,the mountain drive and beautiful scenery from Pitesti to Brasov,the horse and cart next to expensive jeeps along the roads,the people asking for rides,the traffic all along(particularly at the edges of and inside towns,the gypsies.I even took time to learn that Romanians enjoy espresso coffee,use motels outside big towns to "rest" for an hour for a mere 40 lei(just under 10 euro)and a lot more.Romania,as I found,is an interesting mixture of old and new,of its new European self (a revival of its old European grandeur) and its communist interlude.
And at 8 something pm on Saturday,after 24 and a half hours of driving,stopping,getting lost,being hosted by police and exasperated by officials,after 36 hours of no sleep,I arrived in Tirgu Mures and was met by my dear dear friend.
Here I must deviate a little and paraphrase Confucius.
"Friends do not eventually find each other;they are in each other all along"
I met Andrea in November 2004,at a convention in Greece.I was different then and so was she-in situations.But as humans we have been the same since childhood I believe.Ever since that time I have felt myself a friend to her and Andrea a friend to me.It is a blessing our communication-despite frequent interruptions which I admit I am to blame for-has been easy due to our common knowledge of English.It was only last Saturday that we met again, after almost 5 years,and friends we are still and I hope to remain for a long long time.Simply because Andrea is a blessing.
After a long long chat,towards the end of which my internal switches started going down and I even called her JANE( a half waking dream that I owe her an explanation of,my mind was not clear enough then to interpret the subconscious message)and her readiness to smile,she gave me her own bed-she slept on the sofa and she is a tall lady,poor dear you must have woken up cramped and uttered not a moan!-I slept for nine long hours to wake up to PANCAKES!!!!!! and coffee and more chat with my friend.Then it was Tirgu Mures time, a picturesque medieval(the old part)town in Transylvania,a town heavy with history.Andrea took me to her place of work,museums(oh these Hungarian myths at the Hall of Mirrors are etched in my memory).Lunch a treat at a restaurant of choice(hey soup wonder!) then home again,meeting her father,a very wise gentleman who looks younger than me,playing with Whisky her cat and trying to lure her dog into conversation (next time promise!).Here I must mention that my friend lives in a house in a village just outside town,fruit trees and flowers all around,the kind o place anyone in their right mind would like to live in,very warm and welcoming.
More chat and then it was concert time for us
The music not good enough but who cares?When in the company of two pretty and witty ladies(Andrea introduced me to her friend Ioana,a gifted girl who will undoubtedly find her way and be happy),beer and talk and another bar that we closed,how can anyone not be happy?
Rest time then,Monday a work day for Andrea(sly me managed to postpone classes playing sick on the phone)and a return day(or so I thought it was)for me.
At 10 Monday morning we hugged goodbye(I hate partings and it was too short,I'm coming back!!!!!!!) and I left to return to what I call home.Except for the impressive drive over the Carpathians and the traffic around Bucharest, Romania was over quite soon.Bulgaria would have been too without a crash caused due to a hastily put up deviation sign seen too late in the fog outside Ruse(some car damage but again who cares when the heart is content?),fog,rain,3 flaggings by who else but the friendly Bulgarian police(vignette check again,no vignette bought at Ruse,soon they got bored of me not taking out my wallet to bribe and waved me off).a flat tyre midway to the Greek border,a 60 km detour towards FYROM and back owing to the eternally poor signposting in Bulgaria,some much needed sleep in the car after getting into Greece and ONLY 22 hours after departure....I arrived,a much wiser man.
Now the lessons I learnt:
A)Always listen to Andrea!She knows better!
B)Never drive through Bulgaria again(reasons enough above)
C)People in our countries are good(got help from everyone and I need to thank here the assistants at petrol stations and roadside cafes-despite language barriers they were invaluable).
D)Bulgarian women,despite the harsh financial condition their country is in,will not sell themselves out.They are of hardy proud material and will prevail and do not let any foolish Greek truck driver convince you otherwise,even at a regular roadside "bar" I stopped at for coffee I had no offers even after they had seen the fifty euro notes.Really respectable.
E)I am afraid Bulgaria will take time to become fully civilised-their communist past of spreading fear for foreigners is still very strong.
F)Romania is,despite many differences among regions,much more European.
H) Authorities are much the same everywhere(I wonder if they have a central breeding area somewhere in this wide world).Exceptions only exist to verify the rules.



A last word
Before this trip I had read with interest the blog of Vasile Andreica(the English there).Andrea suggested I add him to my Yahoo contacts.I did.And I am happy to have one more friend in Romania,a sensitive soul with a much greater ability of expressing himself in word pictures than many.Promise to come visit you Vasy,next time I'm there.
Which,incidentally,will definitely last longer and YES
THIS TIME I WILL FLY OR RIDE NOT DRIVE!!!!!!!!



THANK YOU ALL AGAIN!!!
MY DEAREST ANDREA MOST OF ALL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Πέμπτη, 22 Οκτωβρίου 2009

Πέμπτη, 8 Οκτωβρίου 2009

All that Jazz



I miss the greats!
A jazz fan for longer than I care to remember,the town I live in is very poor when it comes to jazz events and that is simply outrageous.Not even in the summer any longer are there any,when there used to come at least one big name to play on a hill overlooking the sea under the moonlight or an open air theatre deep in a forest.And when they do come,the ticket price is exorbitant.
The new bands or solo jazzmen that come are either not good enough or not properly advertised,it's been years since an audience raising combo,Mingus Amungus,visited.And those that profess tribute to the greats,like some coming next week and dare to say they develop Miles Davis are simply money gathering globetrotting beggars that would sell Miles for pennies if they had half the chance.
And I miss the giants!











Τρίτη, 6 Οκτωβρίου 2009

SOME PHOTOS
















Here are some photos by my good friend Dimitris Dimosthenous Lentzis,who kindly allowed me to upload them.Dimitris is a poet,painter and photographer,a native of Kavala,Greece,having lived there all his life.First is Dimitris himself.You can find Dimutris on Facebook.He will be happy to add you and you will be able to see more of his work,passionate work by a sensitive soul.These photos are copyrighted so you may use them on your computer but please ask for his permission to reproduce them.Dimitris will I believe be happy to oblige.

Δευτέρα, 5 Οκτωβρίου 2009

In Disguise


There is a Greek song that goes roughly like this:
Tell your daddy
whenever he kisses you
not to wear his dark glasses
cause he shades your pretty eyes
and in their shade you look at people

We all wear masks

Whenever we put on glasses,shades and so on,we are putting on a facade,a disguise.We do not want people to recognise us for who we are,but for what we would like them to see,be it their hearts' desire or our wish.We hide behind masks to impress upon others an image of something different from what we really are.
It may be because of the ritual role of the action.We men and women have been reduced to the use of masks to avoid social ridicule when behaving out of (imposed)norms-see carnival times round the globe.And intimidation of the Other is there too.Disguises of the face and body-tattooing,piercing-are there to visually frighten or somehow impress the beholder.This.ceremonial often,masking achieves several functions--hides,impresses,creates false ideas.
The theatre is another story.A strictly male institution in ancienf Greece and Japan,the mask was used to imitate expressions of the face-men do not have the wealth of facial capabilities women can rightfully boast of.Actors-the word itself reveals the meaning:acting(behaving like,not being)-put them on to behave like Antigone or Lysistrata.They could not be them.And male masks had to be there too since one can't convince an audience otherwise.
Death masks there are too,to preserve the appearance of the deceased to eternity.Another illusion.Dust in the wind we are,memories in others after the mower visits,our looks idealised and only the mask,not the living pulsating person that we were,remaining to eternity.
Masks we employ in our daily lives.Can we teachers appear hungry,frustrated,angry in class?No.We therefore put on our make up of reticence or other and everyone is happy-or so we appear to be.Will a woman say no to the man who offered her the ring?The man will not like it ergo the fake orgasms.Will a husband(what a sexist word,by the way,truly barbaric,like woman:wife of man)tell his wife he desires another?Chances are he won't dare.And we get the forced smile-cry mask!
Even clothes are disguises.Our body appears more desirable within proper attire.Garments are.however,not us.They may be objects we like,they are not US.
Worst case scenario.
We get so used to wearing them that soon,without us realising,we keep them on all the time.Unable and afraid to be what we are,the facade is there upon our face and body day and night.And when our dreams betray us to ourselves-blessed be they-we explain them away as premonitions or symbols or whatsoever....







Σάββατο, 3 Οκτωβρίου 2009

An explosive fruit



Long I have been considering the pommegrenate or rodi in Greek or rodie-surprise surprise-in Romanian as I learnt only today.I have been attracted by it (and the tree)since I was younger but again today only my friend Andrea suggested I write about it and got me into the mood.
I love it because it is a wealth of colour.Pink to orange as a flower,golden red when it ripens and......open it and behold the red seeds!And there 's more!Leave it on the tree and one day,catching you unawares,it will explode into a shower of seeds to offer its children back to the ground,to propel itself into the future,to germinate and grow.
And then there's the tree.A rich tapestry of bloom twice a year,laden with its golden red fruits later,a Christmas tree that does not need Christmas to glow,to warm your heart.How many songs have been written about trees?Think none.Except for her,the lady with the fine leaves and the pretty curves.
The fruit?Now we get to the real beauty.Appeals to sight,touch,smell and taste.The seeds are lightly sweet,many and do not yield easily-you have to pick them out one by one.A great pastime too,peanuts pale compared to them.And their juice is a natural antioxidant,never mind its almost non existent sugar content.Get a decent cocktail without grenadine?This symbol of fertility,etrnity and good luck in my culture(we smash them on the porch each New Year's Day),sung by the Jews and giving its name to the beauty that is Granada in Spain,buried with their dead by the ancient Egyptians, one of the three blessed fruit in Buddhism , is a true gift.
There is no war,no violence here.Only nature at its best.













http://www.freewebs.com/yorikman/apps/videos/videos/view/3827080-unification-of-europe

It does matter nutter!The size really!

662.jpg

Chidren at play -with a twist

piccies2.jpg

Swine flu victim

From now on this will be a serious? discussion page

Quoth the raven : nevermore!

What did the raven mean?And who the heck is the raven?

Is he the Greek soccer referee(known to the Greek fan as KORAKI-RAVEN?And does he imply that nevermore will he favour a particular team,also known to the Greek fan as GAVROS- hohoho rhymes with MAVROS-BLACK!!-or what?

Replies welcome!

JOKES TIME

in English!!!
If Santa Claus lived in down under where Xmas is in the summer he would be?
Suntanned Claus!
And his cat?
Suntanned Claws
Who is the Greek god with a venerreal -hehe very real!-disease?
HER(M)PES!!!

A little word play

Who can make 5 five letter words with these 5 letters? ::: altes
(results after some responses and be fair,do not use some online anagram solver!)


And now!
Can you can?
Can you can can?
If you can can,can.
And if you can can,can can.
Can the can if you can.But can you can the can can?Yes,you can.(tell me how!)

TO BE OR NOT TO BE?

Is this the question?

Not really!The real question is:To bee or not to bee.Or even:To be bee or not to be bee.Or:To bee or to pee or vice versa.An alternative would be to pee or to be-just play it cool,you know.

The ultimate question,though,is

TO PEE OR TO POO???

You do them both and you get yourself in an awkward position.You do neither and there you stand constipated and all jittery.

Another version of this age old question might be

TO BOO OR TO POO?

You have to decide on so many delicate matters:Volume,aroma,texture,frequency,recipients,responses to likely comments....When both are used wisely-and together!- you can express discomfort and discontent.AND then contend it wasn't you!