"What struck me most powerfully when I got to Timbuktu was that the streets were of sand. I suddenly realized that sand is very different from dirt. Every town starts with dirt streets that eventually get paved as the inhabitants prosper and subdue their environment. But sand represents defeat. A city with streets of sand is a city at the edge.
That, of course, is why I was there: Timbuktu is the ultimate destination for edge-seekers. Of the half-dozen places that have always lured travelers with the mere sound of their name—Bali and Tahiti, Samarkand and Fez, Mombasa and Macao—none can match Timbuktu for the remoteness it conveys. I was surprised by how many people, hearing of my trip, didn't think Timbuktu was a real place, or, if it was, couldn't think where in the world it might be. They knew it well as a word—the most vivid of all synonyms for the almost unreachable, a God-given toy for songwriters stuck for an "oo" rhyme and a metaphor for how far a lovestruck boy would go to win the unwinnable girl. But as an actual place—surely Timbuktu was one of those "long-lost" African kingdoms like King Solomon's Mines that turned out not to exist when the Victorian explorers went looking for them."
(On Writing Well, William Zinsser)
woensdag 29 december 2010
dinsdag 28 december 2010
Holly
Don't really know what to say about this film. Watch it and tell me how this human world has come into being? Define human? Define sanity? Reason? If this is really happening and there is basically nothing to do about it then we better hope that doomsday would come sooner.
vrijdag 24 december 2010
With birds
With a head full of people, places, words, dreams, thoughts and hopes, I wrapped myself in my warmest clothes and set off to climb the nearest hill. On my own in the knee-deep snow cover unseen on this island, I marched towards the white peaks. Sat on the cliffs, watched the city and the mountains on the horizon. In an instant, people, places, words, dreams, thoughts and hopes dissolved in the sunset. Sometime solitude is healing.
With birds I shared this lonely view.
Merry Christmas to all of you who for one or another reason stick to this blog.
With birds I shared this lonely view.
Merry Christmas to all of you who for one or another reason stick to this blog.
donderdag 23 december 2010
Castles in the sky
Taylor Steele's unusual and beautiful documentary Castles in the Sky is an inspiring stir of culture and surfing. The 45 minute film follows A-class surfers on a spiritual and scenic journey around the coasts of Iceland, Peru, Vietnam, India and Africa. But caution - Castles in Sky is not really a film about surfing but a film about traveling “one step further”. A journey that starts in one's own psyche and awareness of the world and its rhythm. What's more moving than the photography and the music is the story told by each traveler in the beginning of each section. It's mind-bending, this conscious search for simplicity and freedom, this “unstuck” state of mind. As sincere as it sounds, this film's visual and visionary poetry gets you, makes you dreamy and initiates mental journeys to your own peaceful and drifting destinations. To your own "unstuckness".
I took the liberty to write down the stories. Had to omit number 3 in Vietnam cause I couldn't really understand what the guy is saying.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He realized that it was not his car.
He realized that it was not his job. It was not his phone,
his desk or his shoes. Like a boat cut from the tanker,
he began to drift.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He took the wind for a map.
He took the sky for a clock and he set off with no
destination.
He was never lost.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. With a polaroyd camera he made pictures of
all the people he met. And then he gave all the pictures away.
He would never forget their faces.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. And each person he met became a little less
stuck themselves. He traveled only with himself.
And he was never alone.
There was once a man who'd become unstuck in the world
and he traveled around like a leaf on the wind
until he reached the place where he's started out
His car, his job, his phone, his shoes.
Everything was right where he'd left it.
Nothing had changed.
And yet he felt excited to have arrived here
as if this was the place he'd been going to all along.
I took the liberty to write down the stories. Had to omit number 3 in Vietnam cause I couldn't really understand what the guy is saying.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He realized that it was not his car.
He realized that it was not his job. It was not his phone,
his desk or his shoes. Like a boat cut from the tanker,
he began to drift.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. He took the wind for a map.
He took the sky for a clock and he set off with no
destination.
He was never lost.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. With a polaroyd camera he made pictures of
all the people he met. And then he gave all the pictures away.
He would never forget their faces.
There was once a man who became unstuck in
the world. And each person he met became a little less
stuck themselves. He traveled only with himself.
And he was never alone.
There was once a man who'd become unstuck in the world
and he traveled around like a leaf on the wind
until he reached the place where he's started out
His car, his job, his phone, his shoes.
Everything was right where he'd left it.
Nothing had changed.
And yet he felt excited to have arrived here
as if this was the place he'd been going to all along.
dinsdag 21 december 2010
21 December
21 December 2009 (Koh Phi Phi, Thailand)
21 December 2010 (St. Andrews, Scotland)
Today was the shortest day of the year. From now on, days will be in bloom again.
People say on this day in two years something of great proportions may/will/should happen.
21 December 2010 (St. Andrews, Scotland)
Today was the shortest day of the year. From now on, days will be in bloom again.
People say on this day in two years something of great proportions may/will/should happen.
vrijdag 17 december 2010
Times like these
There are times when I want to dig a hole in the soil, cuddle up there and just stop being for a while.
There are moments when I wanna scoop up all this beautiful madness and swallow it, immerse in it, be it.
And there are times like now, when I just sit at home, with a second bottle of wine and listen to music on my own.
There are moments when I wanna scoop up all this beautiful madness and swallow it, immerse in it, be it.
And there are times like now, when I just sit at home, with a second bottle of wine and listen to music on my own.
zondag 5 december 2010
Bliss
Bliss has many faces. Might be just around the corner. Could be lurking in your back yard. But we tend to look for beauty, peace and inspiration in far-away destinations. It might be just in front of your door. 30 steps away from my house I found bliss and felt grateful.
zaterdag 4 december 2010
Winter sun
Xavier Rudd and Ben Howard brought some Earthy warmth to this snow-covered city last night. Outside the sun is shining bright again.
vrijdag 3 december 2010
Snowboom
Home
Arthur's seat before and ...
... Arthur's seat after...
... the snow explosion that canceled flights, lectures, exams, concerts, public transport. Sometimes you wonder, if the UK is really a developed country.
Arthur's seat before and ...
... Arthur's seat after...
... the snow explosion that canceled flights, lectures, exams, concerts, public transport. Sometimes you wonder, if the UK is really a developed country.
dinsdag 30 november 2010
Xavier
Traveled the world listening to his music, settled down and he is coming to my city. This Friday, Xavier Rudd at the Queen's Hall, Edinburgh. Can't wait. Haven't been to a proper gig in a while and if you don't count Fatboy Slim this August, I haven't felt the big stage since March. I will not go to Femi Kuti and the Herbalizer just to see this young Ausie bloke here.
Next year, however, two things: Mogwai and Iron & Wine.
zaterdag 27 november 2010
Windmill, windmill for the land
Will this be the 21st century way of harvesting energy? Hardly possible today, but hey life was pretty bizarre 100 years go. The shots were taken during a field trip last month. For some obscure reason the manager of the station decided to speak just under of those giant creatures, which was of course exciting but completely compromised our auditory capabilities. So, I sneaked out of the crowd and marveled at the potential.
Random fact: This station, just outside Edinburgh, has killed only 2 birds and no bats.
Neighbourhood
A beautiful day to fall in love with the United Kingdom. Dark and gloomy, the morning crept out of London Road and slid towards Old College. The drizzle, followed by a failed attempt to catch a bus, ended up in a cab. Red Light Indicates that Doors are Secure. Compliments on my Sco'ish accent from the driver compensate the overpriced trip to the King's Buildings. The city looks inspiring today: colors, shapes and textures defined by man and refined by time, evoke stories, images, sensations. Students hassling around during lunch break, the cafes are busy, the smells exciting. The city is alive on a Thursday. The city is alive every day. It is a city of young people after all. It's our city, our young, happy, promiscuous, trendy and yet old, gloomy, uneasy and dark city. Red double-deckers meander the uneven roads, red-bearded men (and women) wear kilts on a winter day, a slow bagpipe folk version of The Kinks' You really got me is all you hear on South Bridge. Sun and birds. And melting snow. Drinking tea and talking about the weather seems like the perfect stereotype. But everything is so uncommon.
donderdag 25 november 2010
zaterdag 13 november 2010
Soma
I woke up with carbon dioxide stats, climate models and ecosystem parameters in my head this morning. I wish I had some Brave New World Soma (I think it's high time that someone invented this).
zaterdag 6 november 2010
Enter the void
If you are in the mood for a psychedelic, new-age, soft-porn, requiem-for-a-dream, type of thing, this film hits the jackpot. I raised my eyebrows various times when watching it. It was madness. Highly recommended.
Sincere
Lounging on the couch, with a wine bottle and a friend, I remembered this song. Breda afternoons were cozy, sunny, mischievous and shared this summer. Now the vibe and the vice are different, but the track still resonates a soothe summer sound.
donderdag 4 november 2010
Today I woke up with a strange feeling. It was buzzing in my head, couldn't ignore it. I stayed tucked in for a while, pondering over this deep emotion. I felt like, I have reached the end, as if nothing from now on will have an influence on me. Nothing will really matter, because I have found it and I do not have to search for myself in conversations, trips, ideologies. Its everything and nothing. Its my end and my beginning. I am in love. In a profoundly emotional and spiritual place. What would it cost me to stay here is yet to be discovered.
Jose
“Excuse me, who is singing this song?”, the shop assistant looked at me as if I were pointing a shotgun at her. Annoyed that I am not at all interested in the clothes they're selling, she threw a quick unamused glance at the lap top on her desk. “Jose Gonzales”. After months of trying to figure out whose is the soft voice from the Sonny Bravia commercial, I got a name that did not but least match my expectations. I thought she got it confused with some Spanish folk singer. I stepped out of the shop and continued my walk around the center of the small Catalan village of Vic trying to remember, just in case, this peculiar Spanish name. Five days later, I was already installed in my new apartment in Barcelona and Jose Gonzalez was exactly who she said.
Connecting music and places has become a habit, a way of seeing music and capturing the sound of cities. Songs often take me places around the world, crossing a boulevard, biking, laying on a beach, going to school, shopping at Alber Hijn.
Two years after Barcelona, Jose Gonzalez leads me back there to those first weeks in the Catalan capital, walking and walking and walking all day with a constant Veneer soundtrack. Each and every song from his albums is a street name, an afternoon walk on the beach, 10 minutes of waiting for somebody at Liceu. It is the bohemian I became in this southern city and the bohemian I cannot seize to be because of it.
Jose Gonzalez in my years right now. Barcelona all around me hundreds of miles away.
Just like Beirut is Amsterdam sometimes and Macau pours out from Empire of the Sun.
One day Edinburgh will be...
We are all drifting.
woensdag 3 november 2010
Don't stop
8:30. The alarm goes off. I open my left eye and see sunshine. Great, I turn around, hug Julia and bury my head under the pillows. The day could wait a minute. Or 20.
8:45. The phone rings. Unknown number +61. Australia. Hi, how are you. 10 hours difference. Yes, of course. I miss you too. I know its been four months. I live in Scotland now. Its just for a while. Sure, I want to spend the holidays with you. Let's.
9:00 I hung up. Stretch. Shower. Breakfast.
11:00 Does scientific knowledge enhance environmental appreciation? If I knew the atomic complexity of the rain that's pouring down, would I enjoy it better? Are fungi more ecologically important than daffodils?
13:00 Oh yes I would love to come to the gathering on Friday. Musical instruments required? No problem. We'll tune in.
14:00 The evolution of forestry and food policy. We have come a long way and we are still nowhere near it. I get high on coffee.
17:00 Pouring rain. Last Shadow Puppets in my ears. Inappropriate shoes. A very thin jacket. I am surprisingly healthy given the lack of winter clothes.
19:00 Food. On a round table. In a dimly-lit kitchen. Tea. An attempt to study. Another to relax. Two wasted efforts. The mama's and the papa's.
00:00 In bed. With an apple. And a friend next to me. Appreciating the immensity of small things, the fast and furious speed of life.
7:00 The alarm goes off. I open my left eye and see rain.
8:45. The phone rings. Unknown number +61. Australia. Hi, how are you. 10 hours difference. Yes, of course. I miss you too. I know its been four months. I live in Scotland now. Its just for a while. Sure, I want to spend the holidays with you. Let's.
9:00 I hung up. Stretch. Shower. Breakfast.
11:00 Does scientific knowledge enhance environmental appreciation? If I knew the atomic complexity of the rain that's pouring down, would I enjoy it better? Are fungi more ecologically important than daffodils?
13:00 Oh yes I would love to come to the gathering on Friday. Musical instruments required? No problem. We'll tune in.
14:00 The evolution of forestry and food policy. We have come a long way and we are still nowhere near it. I get high on coffee.
17:00 Pouring rain. Last Shadow Puppets in my ears. Inappropriate shoes. A very thin jacket. I am surprisingly healthy given the lack of winter clothes.
19:00 Food. On a round table. In a dimly-lit kitchen. Tea. An attempt to study. Another to relax. Two wasted efforts. The mama's and the papa's.
00:00 In bed. With an apple. And a friend next to me. Appreciating the immensity of small things, the fast and furious speed of life.
7:00 The alarm goes off. I open my left eye and see rain.
zondag 24 oktober 2010
zaterdag 16 oktober 2010
maandag 11 oktober 2010
City visions
To truly understand living in Edinburgh, you have to accept that it is all about changing elevations.
There is no direct route to from anything to anywhere in Scotland's capital. The only straight line in Auld Reekie is for tourists. It runs from the Palace of Hollywood House up the Royal Mile to Edinburgh Castle, and as a student elbowing your way through the crowds of Spanish backpackers and Americans on the trail on non-existent roots will make less and less sense the longer you spend studying here.
Instead, seasoned Edinburgh students learn that getting from A to B has little meaning here; paths take you down dark dripping closes, through derelict breweries and along overgrown canals- always rising and falling with the land, one minute along broad leafy terraced streets, the next pulling past derelict tenements and warehouses. You won't have to be drunk to wind your way home at night.
Living in Edinburgh is about suspending your sense of place, distance and direction. Roads run under roads, streets lie buried under buildings; the Queen's Scottish residence sits next to social housing; facing it the Scottish parliament, a squat, defiant and angular expression of nationalism set among baroque spires, pebble dash and the green slope of Arthur's Seat. Bankers and insurance salesmen fill the same club nights as students and wideboys. Anywhere else, the jumble wouldn't make sense. May be it doesn't here either.
The profusion of landmarks would seem to affirm Edinburgh as a national capital with its royal residence and parliament 'all our ain', but at times it seems like a little more than a village. If you live within a few square meters from the Shore to the edges of the semi-detachedd-dom of Morningside, as most students do, walking around you will see the same faces a over and over – friends, classmates, lecturers, the guy who served you your pint the night before, the girl that you didn't call back the morning after.
Other than the risk of getting smacked with John Knox's pants at graduation, the city wears its weighty cultural history lightly; first year University of Edinburgh English Literature undergraduates walk nervously up the stairs to tutorials for which they haven't done the reading in the building that Francis Jeffrey founded The Edinburgh Review in. Napier students drink at the union bar in the shadow of Merchiston Castle – John Napier's birthplace – and get lost in the halls of the former psychiatric hospital at Craighouse, deliberately designed like a maze to prevent patients from escaping.
What does it say about Edinburgh that the same is true – except it happened by accident?
(The Skinny, 2010-2011- couldn't have said it better)
zaterdag 9 oktober 2010
Gone bamboo
There is a reason for this current mental state, unable to grasp reality. It's not only me, its hundreds of people out there who weren't able to return home. Anthony Bourdain explains what is it about this place that changes you, why and how have we gone bamboo.
(Part 4 is about my personal infatuation, my own going bamboo time, substitute the pig parts with the culinary veggie magic I had in Ubud, and the music.. oh that gamelan )
Is it may be the end of the road for me as well?
(Part 4 is about my personal infatuation, my own going bamboo time, substitute the pig parts with the culinary veggie magic I had in Ubud, and the music.. oh that gamelan )
Is it may be the end of the road for me as well?
vrijdag 8 oktober 2010
Gastropods
Not having time to eat, means that life has triumphed. Days start and end in a haze. No time to comb my hair, no time to read a book, no time to answer emails, no time to write, no time to lough, no time to live. Where is time? Where has it all gone? Who deprived us from our leisure? Arranging bills, ordering furniture, opening bank accounts, sub-renting rooms and taking pictures of garages. What is life? IKEA shopping. Just don't want to be here most of the time. And it's always been like that. Counterbalance all this with researching river catchments in Indonesia and deforestation rates in Costa Rica. Home work case studies: An Earth-system perspective of the global nitrogen cycle. Wake up and ask myself, what am I doing here, why did I chose this. Better never ask these questions again. Let it all go, let myself go even if it is a struggle. It is always a struggle and it shouldn't be. Search for peace and simplicity in every day's niches. A cup of tea, a warm embrace, a sunny morning. Learn the features of all gastropods, go to the beach and name them all. Bake birthday cakes at midnight. What else could I do? Please help. I'm lost again.
maandag 4 oktober 2010
Babies
This documentary will truly make you smile. It could be quite disturbing at times, forcing troubling impressions. But recommended if you, just like me, enjoy celebrating the richness of life on Earth.
zondag 3 oktober 2010
Housekeeping
Always fun. Sometimes dysfunctional. Never unnecessary.
Hostels.
Waiting for 15 minutes for the toilet is probably not the most amusing beginning of the day.
Listening to the girl under you on the bunk bed snore is may be not the best way to end a day.
But the community, fun and chaos are invaluable.
Considering the idea of creating a new blog with only the most bizarre, random and hilarious stuff that happens in hostels around the globe.
I am sitting in a hostel just now and the idea of this post entry actually came from my slightly hungover head. We had a party last night here at the hostel and today everyone is slow and jolly. Both management and guests seem a bit confused. Its 10:00 am and they are opening a second bottle of vodka. My food is gone. I eat other people's food. Two Australians knock on the door “Housekeeping”, enter and start searching the bed of the girl who did not make it back to the room last night.
Me, confused: “What are you doing guys?”
Aussie 1: “Housekeeping... stealing shit”
Aussie 2: “She is a she-male, man, look at all this pink stuff around here”.
Me: “Aha.. all right”
You get used to it. To the noise, to the complete absence of privacy. To hasty people, calmer people, all foreigners like you sharing a building, looking for temporary friendships, uncommitted love and a good time. Those who stay long seem to have shut down all needs and private priorities, do not mind the couple shagging on the adjacent bunk bed or the constant noise in the living room.
This is my 3rd week in a hostel and sometimes I am about to explode. They will always be necessary and they will always lead me to life-changing individuals, housemates, soul-mates and partners. They must be endured and appreciated.
I just needed a place to stay until I find home. If ever.
Hostels.
Waiting for 15 minutes for the toilet is probably not the most amusing beginning of the day.
Listening to the girl under you on the bunk bed snore is may be not the best way to end a day.
But the community, fun and chaos are invaluable.
Considering the idea of creating a new blog with only the most bizarre, random and hilarious stuff that happens in hostels around the globe.
I am sitting in a hostel just now and the idea of this post entry actually came from my slightly hungover head. We had a party last night here at the hostel and today everyone is slow and jolly. Both management and guests seem a bit confused. Its 10:00 am and they are opening a second bottle of vodka. My food is gone. I eat other people's food. Two Australians knock on the door “Housekeeping”, enter and start searching the bed of the girl who did not make it back to the room last night.
Me, confused: “What are you doing guys?”
Aussie 1: “Housekeeping... stealing shit”
Aussie 2: “She is a she-male, man, look at all this pink stuff around here”.
Me: “Aha.. all right”
You get used to it. To the noise, to the complete absence of privacy. To hasty people, calmer people, all foreigners like you sharing a building, looking for temporary friendships, uncommitted love and a good time. Those who stay long seem to have shut down all needs and private priorities, do not mind the couple shagging on the adjacent bunk bed or the constant noise in the living room.
This is my 3rd week in a hostel and sometimes I am about to explode. They will always be necessary and they will always lead me to life-changing individuals, housemates, soul-mates and partners. They must be endured and appreciated.
I just needed a place to stay until I find home. If ever.
zondag 26 september 2010
Walking
"It is true, we are but faint-hearted crusaders, even the walkers, nowadays, who undertake no persevering, never-ending enterprises. Our expeditions are but tours, and come round again at evening to the old hearth-side from which we set out. Half the walk is but retracing our steps. We should go forth on the shortest walk, perchance, in the spirit of undying adventure, never to return-- prepared to send back our embalmed hearts only as relics to our desolate kingdoms. If you are ready to leave father and mother, and brother and sister, and wife and child and friends, and never see them again--if you have paid your debts, and made your will, and settled all your affairs, and are a free man--then you are ready for a walk."
(Henry David Thoreau, Walking, 1862)
(Henry David Thoreau, Walking, 1862)
zaterdag 25 september 2010
Lines
Once you open your mind you start seeing connections that other people can't. Or may be those connections spot you first, and excited by prospects that your mind is offering, drag you nearer and nearer.
You start going places that need you and only you
People enter your life without a permission, they grab you by the hand and lead you towards your own private place of this huge jigsaw puzzle.
And if you are really able to see beyond your fatigue, beyond your exam schedule, beyond your failures, successes and beyond your precious needs, then you realize that everything could not have have happened better than this.
Every single person in your days was important. Every single person you will meet will be important. Try to be excellent to them and respect the fact that your paths have crossed and you've had the honor of influencing and provoking, loving and annoying each other.
You start going places that need you and only you
People enter your life without a permission, they grab you by the hand and lead you towards your own private place of this huge jigsaw puzzle.
And if you are really able to see beyond your fatigue, beyond your exam schedule, beyond your failures, successes and beyond your precious needs, then you realize that everything could not have have happened better than this.
Every single person in your days was important. Every single person you will meet will be important. Try to be excellent to them and respect the fact that your paths have crossed and you've had the honor of influencing and provoking, loving and annoying each other.
maandag 20 september 2010
The tidal wave
I will never forget the day that changed my life. I was 11 and heedless, cycling through my small hometown with a boy that I'd met just a day ago. He was foreign to this place, spoke funny Bulgarian and cared about nothing. We climbed up the stadium grandstand roof and unmounted a few of the light bulbs. I stood up right, there on the highest point I had ever been to, shaking and trembling, eaten by a tickling vertigo rush. I stood still and admired the landscape. Parts of the hilly Sacar mountain, parts of the conifer forest, the small vine yards and all of this beauty defiled by a giant Christian cross. At this moment precisely is when I realized that I am in for a long and eventful journey.
donderdag 16 september 2010
Check the record
Now life becomes a different story when Blondie is played in the luxury shopping mall, Arcade Fire in H&M, Jack Johnson in Sainsbury's (while I am trying to master the art of self check-in) and the evening live session on radio 2 is by Radiohead. Probably that's why I am here. In this dark medieval city, the rainiest part of the rainiest part of Europe. My first day in Edinburgh welcomed me with this book – a book I have been trying to find since I read about it on the internetnet a few years ago. To be found nowhere else, but in Princes Str. Backpacker's Hostel.
Point taken, thank you very much. The Fall in my head while wandering around this place.. I will be getting used to all this. These narrow meandering streets, all this pouring rain (I really love rainy countries, don't I), all that sexy Scottish accent, red hairs, massive churches, castles, hills and whatever else is there.
And no sorry no pics, unless you want rain photographed at various angles.
Point taken, thank you very much. The Fall in my head while wandering around this place.. I will be getting used to all this. These narrow meandering streets, all this pouring rain (I really love rainy countries, don't I), all that sexy Scottish accent, red hairs, massive churches, castles, hills and whatever else is there.
And no sorry no pics, unless you want rain photographed at various angles.
woensdag 15 september 2010
Hours
“Excuse me, are you sure this the Breda International Bushalte”, I point to a corner of the street where the only functional thing is a trash bin. The red-cheeked woman looks at me, then at my Breda-London bus ticket and then points reassuringly in direction trash bin. Hoping that the bus will indeed arrive at the promised corner I head its way with the heaviest bag pack I have ever carried. Its 12:45, the time of my departure to the Island and no Eurolines are to be seen anywhere. Finally, after 30 minutes spent in useless consideration of alternative routes to London, the bus arrives, I throw my bag in the luggage compartment, nod to the driver “Hey, how are ya” and take a seat next to a cool-looking blond-haired South African hippie. The journey begins. The flatland that used to be my home for such a long time is stretching in front of my eyes. Heading south, the flattest and most boring part of the Benelux envelops the view. “I will definitely miss the cows”, is what I answer my new South African neighbor. There are many things I will miss about the Netherlands, but I can't be bothered missing them right now.
The bus travels south. We stop, have a snack, exhaust the last weed resources and head to the north of France where we will be about to leave Mainland Europe and cross that famous Euro Channel. I suddenly remember a CNN news report I saw in China last year about a snow storm than blocked the channel and everyone had to be evacuated. Bad thoughts aside, we are approaching the customs.
Crossing the Euro Channel is the most uneventful experience you could possibly have. The bus gets loaded onto a train. The train enters a tunnel. You are under water but there are no windows to watch the cool northern European fish. You switch on your ipod. May be take a nap. And in 3o minutes ... voila welcome to the United Kingdom. So much for the La Manche.
The driver, a decent British bloke. Makes a few jokes about the French police, tries to be social and considerate during the entire trip from the Netherlands to France. But as soon as we enter England, he starts racing the vehicle on max speed, joking about whatever comes to mind and apologized for the 1 minute delay at the Victoria Coach Station. As if trying to make a statement “I am home now mates I could do whatever I bloody want”. And so he does until we enter the endless suburbs of the BabyLon-Don. My Shuffler chooses oddly the Bombay Bicycle Club and I get lost in the faces of Londoners going out for an evening stroll. And in the tens of Little India's and Kebabs all the way from South East to Central.
I was about to say hello to my new bizarre and beautiful home Scotland tomorrow morning.
The bus travels south. We stop, have a snack, exhaust the last weed resources and head to the north of France where we will be about to leave Mainland Europe and cross that famous Euro Channel. I suddenly remember a CNN news report I saw in China last year about a snow storm than blocked the channel and everyone had to be evacuated. Bad thoughts aside, we are approaching the customs.
Crossing the Euro Channel is the most uneventful experience you could possibly have. The bus gets loaded onto a train. The train enters a tunnel. You are under water but there are no windows to watch the cool northern European fish. You switch on your ipod. May be take a nap. And in 3o minutes ... voila welcome to the United Kingdom. So much for the La Manche.
The driver, a decent British bloke. Makes a few jokes about the French police, tries to be social and considerate during the entire trip from the Netherlands to France. But as soon as we enter England, he starts racing the vehicle on max speed, joking about whatever comes to mind and apologized for the 1 minute delay at the Victoria Coach Station. As if trying to make a statement “I am home now mates I could do whatever I bloody want”. And so he does until we enter the endless suburbs of the BabyLon-Don. My Shuffler chooses oddly the Bombay Bicycle Club and I get lost in the faces of Londoners going out for an evening stroll. And in the tens of Little India's and Kebabs all the way from South East to Central.
I was about to say hello to my new bizarre and beautiful home Scotland tomorrow morning.
vrijdag 10 september 2010
Sunrise
23 years of being here and I dare say life is one inconceivable piece of work. Today, the day when my new year starts, I have to make a big confession. I am so head over hills in love with you life that I am eager to devote myself to every turn you may take me, I will passionately satisfy every whim of yours and every unreasonable desire you may throw my way will become my road map and compass.
This last year was more or less my most bizarre one. It started in a far-away land, on a hot sunny Asian day. It was a year of novelties, new friendships, affections, discoveries, countries, cultures and directions. New, everything was new.
Now I am on the doorsteps of a new life again. My new years never start in January. Everything will always and forever begin in the September months and that's why I adore them so much. On this rainy dark September day I am almost saying goodbye to mainland Europe again. In two days time I will be away, chasing that old hunch of mine that has never misled me.
I wish myself a year full of love and positive rhythms.
I wish myself more hunches, more intuitive thinking and choices.
I wish myself trips and travels, for this is the only way I can forget about my self-identity and be at one with all of this world.
And I wish myself more of you marvelous people out there to cross my way, to change and provoke me, to inspire and share my days.
Thank you all.
p.s. Volume up on that song.
woensdag 8 september 2010
A long time now
Earlier today, while indulging in my city stroll, my Shuffler landed on this song and thousands of emotional galaxies collided. There were months, exactly two years ago, when Beirut were the constant soundtrack of my days. That fall of 2008 is scarred by and buried in this music, so sadly European and inexplicably intimate with my soul. After leaving Europe, I stopped listening to Zach Condon, for this music is suited by the street lights of European cities, by the all-seeing church bells and by the colored branches of the autumn trees. The beach, the jungle or the Hindu temple are alien to this music, make it sound grotesque and pretentious. But now, when back on European soil, the music has not only retrieved its former beauty, but it's also assumed new charms and will be leaving new emotional traits.
Invasion
Last night something of gigantic proportions happened. I had a dream that I was chatting with somebody on Facebook. This means that Facebook's got a much deeper subconscious penetration that I've imagined.
Have you had similar dreams?
It's invading our lives, minds and apparently dreams. And I am actually a very reluctant and disloyal user. I am online only when i have to. Imagine all those people out there whose day starts and ends with FB.
We live in very exciting times indeed.
Have you had similar dreams?
It's invading our lives, minds and apparently dreams. And I am actually a very reluctant and disloyal user. I am online only when i have to. Imagine all those people out there whose day starts and ends with FB.
We live in very exciting times indeed.
dinsdag 7 september 2010
The city
Strangely, all google pictures of Edinburgh look like postcards. I wonder, whether my photographs will come out so stale and unreal. Or may be it's just the city that demands them.
I have surely memorized the adjectives from the Ed-burgh stories of so many people. Amazing. Medieval. Beautiful. Lively. Wonderful. Inspiring. Huge. Old. Picturesque. Etc. Hopefully, the historical city scape will swallow me completely as I try to sew my days together. And wait for some better, more genuine and sincere Ed-burgh shots.
"The city is alive, the city is expanding, living in the city could be demanding"
(Inner City Pressure, Flight of the Concords)
maandag 6 september 2010
Suburbs
Two albums that I have been having as a constant company recently. Make me feel at home. Whatever that means.
Fan made video.
zondag 5 september 2010
The environmentalist
Pushing away the confused scraps in my head, this morning I woke up thinking about green fields, clear skies, animals and plants.... but for the first time - in a very long time believe me - from the perspective of the study I am about to dive into.
Every time I feel like I have lost the sense of what I am doing with my life (not that my life needs anything to be done with it) I open Stopdodo (link below post) and pieces come back together.
Ah, yes, I was going to do a Master's course in Environmental Protection and Eco sciences.
True. And why was that? Intuition says, this is your way madam, better go and finish this one-year course and then ... well check out this website and get back to those beautiful places and start working.
Choosing my courses this morning felt like a privilege and I am going pro.
Remote Radar Sensing
Atmospheric Quality and Climate change
distributed GIS
Spatial Modeling
Rural Development
Waste Management
Soil composition and geology
and so much more.
And after all this and much more is done, I hope I will have caught a glimpse of what is going on with this planet and what can be done better. In the meantime, if you are may be interested in something like that check this website: Stopdodo
zaterdag 4 september 2010
This homeland...
When at home, strangely beautiful things happen. New little creatures enter my life. Beautiful suns shine my way.
That sound
On the fourth day of September my 19-month summer ended. It's cold, still dry, Western European.
Seats are reserved, dates anticipated, but the plausibility of all these future events seems unregistered. I am hoping for a creative, anti-stress and enlightening year.
Exactly in one week time, various planets will engage in taking me to the beginning of my new year and my sun will shine again. Regardless of all the sounds of confusion, I try to stay calm and not to remember any of those recent full-moon dreams. Sitting here on the couch, on a Saturday night, while everybody else is partying out, I feel gloomy and radiant.
Gloomy because something glorious has just ended and radiant because something glorious has just begun. And amidst all this immeasurable glory there is a sparkle of sarcasm.
I have been having islands on my mind all these months, without even slightly noticing that I am going to get one in about 10 days. Not a tropical paradise, but definitely as humid as it could be.
Off of my trail and off of my hands and onto a new plan. Soon, soon. Some time will have to pass before we're confident we deserve a chance.
Until then. Good stuff. Passing the Euro Channel. By coach. Next Sunday.
vrijdag 20 augustus 2010
Working the machine
Music. Has always been there when I need an emotional pillow. Songs contain memories. Cities blend with certain rythms and lyrics.
And now when i am stuck between past and future, in this temporary personal void, I need music more than ever. Songs with a promise that I'll be fine, yes Cam, you'll be fine.
But Jack Johnson makes me sad. Empire of the Sun invites a troop of emotional terrorists, that bomb, rummage, rape and want to destroy me. Nothings fits, everyting misleads.
A song that reminds me that, yes, I have to finally dive into the European Bohemian Rapsody. Let the seasons begin.
Cause apparently it's true, you can't always get what you want.
donderdag 19 augustus 2010
woensdag 28 juli 2010
woensdag 21 juli 2010
dinsdag 20 juli 2010
All apologies
I see people throwing their present well-being in the hands of time. For the greater good, for the future well-being. I see my friends desperately trying to make sense of this whole thing. Is this what we signed up for? What's next? House. Mortgage. Family. Work. Work. Savings. I see my friends toiling day after day in a company they cannot stand, in a position that is below their capabilities, that is mocking their potential and destroying their self-esteem. Is this what we signed up for? Graduating from college just to find ourselves on a continent that's grown stale on progress, that does not value the fresh mind, but experience. Why the hell do you need 5-7 years of experience in a changing world? And for a job that is kind of on the brink of becoming useless anyways. Well, that is the issue. Europe is not changing, it is stuck somewhere in its former glory, admiring and desperately trying to maintain the policies and values that made it the Europe that we know. The truth is Europe is a big mess – politically, economically, socially. And whatever happens or does not, everybody's favorite excuse is that “We are in a crisis”. Oh, sweet crisis, please never let us go!
So, I see my friends day after day putting up with their ridiculous jobs, working their days away until the weekend comes again. Week after week. Month after month. They grew desperate, because now it is not a shitty job you do just to pay your rent while finishing your education. It is The Job. And it seems that it is not going to end soon. And how can they not grow desperate living in a country that hasn't been able to form a government in months. Where the social system is about to end up in shambles as a few major companies are going to seize power over the majority of social services. Private insurance, private education, private water, gas, electricity providers. Sweeeeet. Can't get enough of it.
What is left for us – the foreigners. We have invested so much in ourselves, we know it is not supposed to be easy at all. But may be, just saying may be, some countries should consider the idea that we are not here to steal, corrupt, make big money and then piss off (at least most of us are not). We are here to live, work, pay taxes, consume and may be bring some fresh mind to the West European aging population, 30%-40% of which is going to retire within the next 10-15 years. And I know that some people are really on friendly intimate terms with the Crisis, but without foreign labor this continent is going to hell, with all its glamor and traditions.
I am a positive thinker by default. I know that we are on a waiting list and it is just one hell of a bad luck that we have just graduated and feel high on how smart, capable and innovative thinkers we are. We know the world is supposed to land in our hands at one point. Soon, my friends soon, the HR manager who is telling you that you are not illegible for the job, cause you are lacking experience with some super easy software (it is a big deal because it took her/him at least 10 years to learn typing) is going to get a final pay check and head for the peaceful years of retirement in the south of Spain. Until then, some toiling around is necessary but Kofp hoch, they will leave us alone someday.
So, I see my friends day after day putting up with their ridiculous jobs, working their days away until the weekend comes again. Week after week. Month after month. They grew desperate, because now it is not a shitty job you do just to pay your rent while finishing your education. It is The Job. And it seems that it is not going to end soon. And how can they not grow desperate living in a country that hasn't been able to form a government in months. Where the social system is about to end up in shambles as a few major companies are going to seize power over the majority of social services. Private insurance, private education, private water, gas, electricity providers. Sweeeeet. Can't get enough of it.
What is left for us – the foreigners. We have invested so much in ourselves, we know it is not supposed to be easy at all. But may be, just saying may be, some countries should consider the idea that we are not here to steal, corrupt, make big money and then piss off (at least most of us are not). We are here to live, work, pay taxes, consume and may be bring some fresh mind to the West European aging population, 30%-40% of which is going to retire within the next 10-15 years. And I know that some people are really on friendly intimate terms with the Crisis, but without foreign labor this continent is going to hell, with all its glamor and traditions.
I am a positive thinker by default. I know that we are on a waiting list and it is just one hell of a bad luck that we have just graduated and feel high on how smart, capable and innovative thinkers we are. We know the world is supposed to land in our hands at one point. Soon, my friends soon, the HR manager who is telling you that you are not illegible for the job, cause you are lacking experience with some super easy software (it is a big deal because it took her/him at least 10 years to learn typing) is going to get a final pay check and head for the peaceful years of retirement in the south of Spain. Until then, some toiling around is necessary but Kofp hoch, they will leave us alone someday.
maandag 19 juli 2010
Distances
In order to chase away the disturbing thoughts of palm trees and coral reefs, I got an offer to visit one of the trippiest places in Holland. And when I say trippy I mean exactly that. After four years – well, just theoretically – spent in the Netherlands I am quite certain about my expectations from the Dutch countryside. Vast green meadows that can strike you only with their flatness. Occasionally you see a cow, a windmill or a river. Such a beauty it is the good old Holland. Apparently, there were still a few undiscovered territories and one of them surprised me with its ... well I really think that “trippy” is the right word to describe its characteristics.
Imagine walking in a normal North European forest and suddenly you come across a huge sandy dune, surrounded by bush and more of the same painfully familiar North European forest. Where did the sand come from? Are we still in Holland or we missed a turn somewhere and wandered off to the south of Sudan. You see, sandy dunes in the woods is not a common sight in Noord Brabant and we just had to sit in one of the tens of green oases of the Dutch Sahara contemplating this unusual landscape. As we sat there we expected a giraffe to loaf about and feed on the tree leaves. None appeared whatsoever. I though a couple of Joshua Trees will be a fine completion of our unsettling surroundings.
The motto of the University – well that's positive thinking – that I have gust graduated from is Discover Your World. It is amazing that I have spent so much time in this area and I have never been to this place, just a few miles away from the centre. May be the coolest places are just under our noses. No need to travel thousands of miles in order to discover the world. The world is right there in front of my eyes. I used the opportunity to take a couple of shots, just to have some equilibrium among my albums. Too many beaches, sunsets, monkeys and temples. Its now time for forests, pine cones, churches and city lights.
Imagine walking in a normal North European forest and suddenly you come across a huge sandy dune, surrounded by bush and more of the same painfully familiar North European forest. Where did the sand come from? Are we still in Holland or we missed a turn somewhere and wandered off to the south of Sudan. You see, sandy dunes in the woods is not a common sight in Noord Brabant and we just had to sit in one of the tens of green oases of the Dutch Sahara contemplating this unusual landscape. As we sat there we expected a giraffe to loaf about and feed on the tree leaves. None appeared whatsoever. I though a couple of Joshua Trees will be a fine completion of our unsettling surroundings.
The motto of the University – well that's positive thinking – that I have gust graduated from is Discover Your World. It is amazing that I have spent so much time in this area and I have never been to this place, just a few miles away from the centre. May be the coolest places are just under our noses. No need to travel thousands of miles in order to discover the world. The world is right there in front of my eyes. I used the opportunity to take a couple of shots, just to have some equilibrium among my albums. Too many beaches, sunsets, monkeys and temples. Its now time for forests, pine cones, churches and city lights.
zondag 18 juli 2010
Phosphor
"But as longs as you feel it
I am a believer
My heart is phosphor
sea rolls, death tolls
break the surface don't break my bones"
(Future Reflections, MGMT)
A few nights ago, after the final drag, carefully washed down with an Albert Hijn red wine, her Highness smiled upon me and I sat in front of the Macbook.
And as usual, all these confused, culture-shocked feelings, thoughts, emotions poured down onto the Word sheet. I had no idea what I wrote down that night until now. I am not completely sure I understand it now either.
"I am traveling. I drift towards images and feelings. I feel the weight of the world. People have shown me that there is no spoon.
Every time I meet people who believe in the positive change my heart is filled up with so much... probably the word is love. There are people out there who know what's in store for us. They have not read it in books, heard in from conspiracy theorists or talked about it because it's hip. They know. Everything is known. Learning about it from external sources only confirms or refutes the information that we already have.
There will be a positive change. We' ll make it happen. People are talking about it and feeling it their hearts. Regardless of the pessimists or the ignorant who prefer not to mess with it, not to get involved and not to destroy their comfort zone. It is happening already.
How could otherwise be possible to travel the world, meet tens of people who feel the same way as you do, who have the same certainty about the future as you do. When we meet and talk and smile upon each other, there is electricity in the air, there is an unbreakable love bond, there is God in the air. And we barely know each other most of the time.
Within in the past two weeks I met two of these people. One in Bali and one in Breda. It took a conversation to figure out we are on same the track, looking in the same direction, searching for the rest of us out there. Once we get in touch there is no letting go and no turning back."
woensdag 14 juli 2010
Visions
Senses working overtime
Trying to taste the difference 'tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure
And the church bells softly chime
(Senses working over time, XTC)
The one and a half week in Europe passed in oblivion. My weakened stomach, accustomed to light noodle soup, tons of rice and tea, had to succumb to the heavy European high-fat and -carbohydrate diet. Dutch bread, cheese, beer and smokes have been rummaging my body, filling it up quickly, inflicting unthinkable pains. Who would have thought that a year in Asia could transform my eating habits so much that een beitje gouda kaas, twee biertjes en een mooie jointje will be so painful?
But painful or not, I am enjoying every single moment of it. The smell of Europe, the sounds of the church bells, the eetcafes under the tree branches – so typically European. And so inexplicably different at the same time. Breda is a different town. New shops, new bars, new cafes. Even the people around me are different. New girls (hotter), new boys (much hotter), new hippies in the park (much weirder). The music in the park every Tuesday seems to be better. Everything is different, but I guess I am the one that has changed. I seem to be enjoying everything much more, observe much deeper, be spontaneous more often. This must be it, right? This transformational power of traveling that alters you mind set. You feel it when you slip between the landslides. When you realize that the world is so incredibly small and changing, and you catch yourself thinking big, across continents and cultures, beyond languages and nationalities.
And since there is no home, or no place that truly feels like home yet, it seems like the trip never ends. It's good to be back in Europe. My bohemian nature is waking up again.
Trying to taste the difference 'tween the lemons and limes
The pain and the pleasure
And the church bells softly chime
(Senses working over time, XTC)
The one and a half week in Europe passed in oblivion. My weakened stomach, accustomed to light noodle soup, tons of rice and tea, had to succumb to the heavy European high-fat and -carbohydrate diet. Dutch bread, cheese, beer and smokes have been rummaging my body, filling it up quickly, inflicting unthinkable pains. Who would have thought that a year in Asia could transform my eating habits so much that een beitje gouda kaas, twee biertjes en een mooie jointje will be so painful?
But painful or not, I am enjoying every single moment of it. The smell of Europe, the sounds of the church bells, the eetcafes under the tree branches – so typically European. And so inexplicably different at the same time. Breda is a different town. New shops, new bars, new cafes. Even the people around me are different. New girls (hotter), new boys (much hotter), new hippies in the park (much weirder). The music in the park every Tuesday seems to be better. Everything is different, but I guess I am the one that has changed. I seem to be enjoying everything much more, observe much deeper, be spontaneous more often. This must be it, right? This transformational power of traveling that alters you mind set. You feel it when you slip between the landslides. When you realize that the world is so incredibly small and changing, and you catch yourself thinking big, across continents and cultures, beyond languages and nationalities.
And since there is no home, or no place that truly feels like home yet, it seems like the trip never ends. It's good to be back in Europe. My bohemian nature is waking up again.
maandag 12 juli 2010
I can't sleep
Musical escapes.
It's from the Drifter soundtrack.
It reminds me of the 20/80 rule even though the songs is not about that.
The 20/80 rule states that 80% of your life, the decisions you make and the directions you take are influenced by 20% of the people you meet in your lifetime.
So watch out for those life-changing characters out there.
And be brave, we'll be alright.
Bali.
I wonder what is it about this island that enchants people and forces them to return and stay? There is something magical about it, captured by its very name, contaned in its flavors, sounds and colors and preserved vividly in the traveller's memories. Bali is the island of the gods, where every stone, tree or river is possessed by a spirit. The entire island is the entrancing dance floor of the Hindu, Buddhist, Muslim, Christian and pegan gods, an unearthly orgy of the deities. No other place could make you feel so .... spiritualized.
Bali is one of those places that truly catches the essence of the phrase “a clash between the east and the west”. Where we, the Westerners, seek that special exotic thrill in the faces of the Balinese, in the sounds of the Gamelan music, in the taste of arak cocktails and peanut dishes. It is the story of trade page after page. The valuable richness of the East pursued by the hungry for passion West, only to become corrupt and marketable.
Bali for me was 15 days of bliss, a bliss that may have changed my life in ways that I am still unable to grasp. Bali has its own methods of allowing certain events to take place and all what happened there feels like destiny. As if from that first moment when I became aware of the existence of the island I was moving towards it and step by step, year by year, I was making those 15 days possible. “Being at the right place at the right time” has never felt so real. Let's just say that for a second there I saw the life I want to have and I know that every step I take from now on, consciously or not, on my own account or for somebody else's sake, will be moving in this direction. Not talking about houses and cars and husbands and professional plans, but about a peace of mind and a mental state of consciousness. Not about a final destination but about an ongoing journey. And let's leave it at that.
Bali is one of those places that truly catches the essence of the phrase “a clash between the east and the west”. Where we, the Westerners, seek that special exotic thrill in the faces of the Balinese, in the sounds of the Gamelan music, in the taste of arak cocktails and peanut dishes. It is the story of trade page after page. The valuable richness of the East pursued by the hungry for passion West, only to become corrupt and marketable.
Bali for me was 15 days of bliss, a bliss that may have changed my life in ways that I am still unable to grasp. Bali has its own methods of allowing certain events to take place and all what happened there feels like destiny. As if from that first moment when I became aware of the existence of the island I was moving towards it and step by step, year by year, I was making those 15 days possible. “Being at the right place at the right time” has never felt so real. Let's just say that for a second there I saw the life I want to have and I know that every step I take from now on, consciously or not, on my own account or for somebody else's sake, will be moving in this direction. Not talking about houses and cars and husbands and professional plans, but about a peace of mind and a mental state of consciousness. Not about a final destination but about an ongoing journey. And let's leave it at that.
Abonneren op:
Posts (Atom)