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)

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.

The home

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.

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.

Since 1862

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.

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.

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.

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)

Suburbs

Two albums that I have been having as a constant company recently. Make me feel at home. Whatever that means.

Fan made video.

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

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.