4/30/08
4/27/08
Things I wouldn't do in Bristol
Have peas kicked over my feet; make a spectacle of myself in public; have a topless sweating man run into me. (Well, maybe the last one, but I wouldn't pay for the privilege)
Was thrilled by Woyzeck last night. The fire curtain was down and we sat just inside of that, so it was performed in half the normal space of a stage. The play, for those of you too lazy to follow the link yesterday, is set within an army, and Woyzeck (played by my favourite actor in the company, Zsolt Bogan) is the main character.
Those in authority are abusive, and in turn the men break each other down. In one of the first few scenes a dozen soldiers run back and forwards as in a drill, and they're throwing all their energy into this. I was sitting in the front row in the middle seats, and because the floor was covered with piles of dried peas, when they reached the front they would slip and nearly end up falling on us. The air was rushing back and forward too, very intense moment. It wasn't the last!
The doctors torture Woyzeck for medical research,which he takes part in for money, to look after his child. His mistress and the mother of his child grows tired of him, his disorientated state and she is seduced/raped by the drum major. Woyzeck kills her and he himself is killed, by the clown figure in the story, who also played the seducing soldier. The play was unfinished (by Georg Büchner), so if you ever get to see it, you may find a different ending!
This performance was brilliant.
This morning, no taxi available to take us to church so listened to sermon by AV, from the computer instead. It was about Cain, and questions that God asks us. The first question, as he asked the Mary's at the tomb, is "Who are you looking for?".
Eoin and like-minded, you should stop reading now.
I walked up the mountain (literally, Dealul Cetatuia) this morning looking for Jesus, thinking about that question. My legs ached from the dusty worn steps and my mouth was dry. I had a sip of water before, but I'm desperate for more. Mary says she's looking for a body. At the top it was hot, but the big dark birds no longer circled my head. The city cranks and wails, but a cool breeze shook the surrounding trees, and church bells sound 11.30. Come?
- At this point, my pen stopped working. I put down the black notebook that's hitchhiked to Scotland, driven to France and made it this far -
There was this metal cross on top of the mountain, and I knelt down in front of it. Have I come to the wrong place? Where should I find you?
I hadn't seen another person up there, but while my eyes were shut, there were footsteps. I didn't look up, and I'm not claiming to have met Jesus, please bear with me. What I am saying is, when we call He answers and I remembered what Jesus or the angel says to the woman next, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" There I was at the foot of the cross, when this is the day of resurrection. The bells rang 12. No answers, but a reply and another question.
Was thrilled by Woyzeck last night. The fire curtain was down and we sat just inside of that, so it was performed in half the normal space of a stage. The play, for those of you too lazy to follow the link yesterday, is set within an army, and Woyzeck (played by my favourite actor in the company, Zsolt Bogan) is the main character.
Those in authority are abusive, and in turn the men break each other down. In one of the first few scenes a dozen soldiers run back and forwards as in a drill, and they're throwing all their energy into this. I was sitting in the front row in the middle seats, and because the floor was covered with piles of dried peas, when they reached the front they would slip and nearly end up falling on us. The air was rushing back and forward too, very intense moment. It wasn't the last!
The doctors torture Woyzeck for medical research,which he takes part in for money, to look after his child. His mistress and the mother of his child grows tired of him, his disorientated state and she is seduced/raped by the drum major. Woyzeck kills her and he himself is killed, by the clown figure in the story, who also played the seducing soldier. The play was unfinished (by Georg Büchner), so if you ever get to see it, you may find a different ending!
This performance was brilliant.
This morning, no taxi available to take us to church so listened to sermon by AV, from the computer instead. It was about Cain, and questions that God asks us. The first question, as he asked the Mary's at the tomb, is "Who are you looking for?".
Eoin and like-minded, you should stop reading now.
I walked up the mountain (literally, Dealul Cetatuia) this morning looking for Jesus, thinking about that question. My legs ached from the dusty worn steps and my mouth was dry. I had a sip of water before, but I'm desperate for more. Mary says she's looking for a body. At the top it was hot, but the big dark birds no longer circled my head. The city cranks and wails, but a cool breeze shook the surrounding trees, and church bells sound 11.30. Come?
- At this point, my pen stopped working. I put down the black notebook that's hitchhiked to Scotland, driven to France and made it this far -
There was this metal cross on top of the mountain, and I knelt down in front of it. Have I come to the wrong place? Where should I find you?
I hadn't seen another person up there, but while my eyes were shut, there were footsteps. I didn't look up, and I'm not claiming to have met Jesus, please bear with me. What I am saying is, when we call He answers and I remembered what Jesus or the angel says to the woman next, "Why are you looking for the living among the dead?" There I was at the foot of the cross, when this is the day of resurrection. The bells rang 12. No answers, but a reply and another question.
4/25/08
Easter, Take Two
It's orthodox easter. On Thursday, I saw a procession on one of the two main streets. I saw it from the back first, and there was a mixture of cheering and moaning so I thought it was going to be something nationalistic...Maybe soldiers on parade, like I saw in Hero's Square Budapest. That's a strange memory, it was raining and no one was watching.
Anyway, this time it was baking hot, and there were soldiers, but they were of the roman centurion, first century variety. There they were, smacking up Jesus, while everyone photographed. John was carrying the cross, women were weeping. An open-backed van at the head played out moody music as they moved along. I wouldn't say I enjoyed it the spectacle but I was glad to be reminded of the idea of Bad Friday. In Take One, I was working so much, wrapped up in imagined heart break and travel plans, and the excitement of a visit from my Grandmother; I hardly noticed what we were remembering. Skipped the crucifixion and didn't notice living without God.
My designs on this one-week holiday include Woyzeck tonight, and a trip to Sibiu midweek. Also, painting the apartment and writing even more postcards. If you haven't got one yet, you might still get lucky!
I talked to my family this morning. There's been a promotion, French revision and drama. Eoin was thought missing, presumed dead. Before being found in his bed asleep, having come home even before his curfew. He wants me to mention his knifed remains being found under a bush on Horfield Common. This blog needs spice, not you talking about bridges. Dad has a new job title and responsibility; I can't say what but I can tell you he sold out on his anti-PC principles to get it. Actually used the word 'inclusive'.
PS. I love you.
4/24/08
Crabby
I left the country and after just a few days, people started asking how I was. Sometimes people who usually wouldn't ask. It's official, catching a bus is much more interesting in another country. The countries in question are eastern European, which means that bus, tram and tube journeys begin and end with a melody of five notes that sounds as though it has been grabbed from the middle of a long-forgotten nursery rhyme.
So I did the usual things: coffees in tiny cute places, waving at the builders on the bridge. I got lonely occasionally, so I named my suitcase Henry. His pull-along handle broke so I bought a belt and put it through the fabric strap. He's hard to pull, like his vacuum cleaner namesake. Didn't check out the spas this time, but ate some very strange foods - like jasmine rice with plum jam and fried Camembert; lobster ravioli with lemon grass cream.
The 8hours on train was not as bad as anticipated.. In my compartment was a Romanian doctor called Botund, Boti for short - its quite a common name here, but I did have to conceal a small giggle that first time I heard it. I found out he was teaching himself English, and coerced him into pictionary and hangman.
Cluj is definitely not as universally beautiful as Budapest.. There's bad traffic and a lot of very boring rundown boxy flats and governmental buildings. BUT there is the occasional beautiful art nouveau wonder chucked in.. ahh.. And the people. Are fab. I'm staying with my aunt and uncle who are very cool but they're American so you know, doesn't count. The flat is all black and white and red, and with odd light fittings - the one in my bedroom is made of circuit boards. My aunt is very like my mother (they're sisters) which is very nice in someways, we think the same, like the same sorts of books, but its a bit painful how it makes me miss Mom more. I was scared that they wouldnt like me, but now after I cried in front of them during our prayer time, i think they do. Oh yeah, we read the liturgy three times a day! I was thinking I wanted to get into a rhythm of doing something like this.. I don't remember how to pray, and sometimes I don't have words.
Their friends are brilliant, so funny and very very smart. I had imagined them as worthy poor christian types, and that I would feel so superficial, western compared. And I do. A lot of them are in theatre or exhibitions, went to a brilliant play last week called Pantagruel, themed around food.. but i thought it was more about vices, and what we take from other people in relationships.
The class in the school I am working in is two grades combined, 24 children between 7 and 9. I speak absolutely none of their language.. but I do a mean mime, and we're picking up the basics from eachother - yes/no/thankyou/good. The other day at lunchtimeI taught them stuck in the mud, which was a fatal error as now we have to play it every opportunity, and they always chase me the most. The children are so in love with me its embarrassing. Choosing which table to sit at lunchtime has become a diplomatic exercise, and when we sit down in a circle its warfare as to who gets my right and left sides, and then who is by the. I feel like a fraudulent demi-god, and i'm just waiting until they all turn on me.
Even though we're in Romania, the school is Hungarian. Transylvania used to belong to Hungary, but then it got given to Romania after the war or some such, so even though the Hungarians never moved homes, they are now foreigners within a country, and they can sometimes get funny looks on the street for speaking their mother tongue. I can't help but draw comparisons to Gaelic in Ireland, which must drive everyone crazy.
So I'm learning two languages at once, H to speak to the children, and people at church, and R. to speak to people in shops and on the street. R. is easier because its from the same streams as French and German, some similar words and grammar structure. H. is this bizarre thing of its own, most similar to Finnish, with verbs tacked onto the ends of nouns and all the letters make very different sounds. they actively resist words such as computer coming into the language, they prefer to make up ' electronic machine that counts' or something. However I'd like to learn it because of its weirdness, and apparently its brilliant for writing poetry and puns because you can put the sentences in many different orders, to give different inflections.
So for school I get up obscenely early, but at least we finish at 3. The businesses all stay open past six. Theres open air markets with fruit and veg and cheese and meat - nothing quaint though, its all a bit gritty. Lots of cheap and tacky boutiques too, a bit like blue star in the galleries? The second-hand shops however, are ace. It's a bit early for ironic vintage here.. So the floral dresses are all mine!
I went first to Budapest, which is maybe my favourite city. I fall in love rather easily, based on architecture. One of my guidebooks says 'beautiful in spite of being scarred by invasions' or somesuch.
It had both the Nazi's and Soviets lately, and previously turks and oh i cant remember. You can see bullet marks in some of the buildings, and a lot of them are nearly falling down. But what is there is a beautiful mishmash of older styles. Turrets and towers and domes and bulbs and there's several bridges that cross from Buda to Pest. Up on the hill of Buda is the old city where the aristo types live, dusty streets and vespa style.
I had stunning weather there and met brilliant people in the hostel, the type who talk late into the night about things you can only talk about at such a time, with the comforting walnut liqueur close to hand when things got too postmodern.
It was one night in a bar that I discovered these genius cigarettes which are longer but thinner, so you can fit 20 in a 10size pack.. that goes very nicely in a handbag. The window displays of the shops are very bizarre, all in little cages and absolutely stuffed full of products, nothing like the minimalism we have - **** ******** - my old boss - would hate it.
It had both the Nazi's and Soviets lately, and previously turks and oh i cant remember. You can see bullet marks in some of the buildings, and a lot of them are nearly falling down. But what is there is a beautiful mishmash of older styles. Turrets and towers and domes and bulbs and there's several bridges that cross from Buda to Pest. Up on the hill of Buda is the old city where the aristo types live, dusty streets and vespa style.
I had stunning weather there and met brilliant people in the hostel, the type who talk late into the night about things you can only talk about at such a time, with the comforting walnut liqueur close to hand when things got too postmodern.It was one night in a bar that I discovered these genius cigarettes which are longer but thinner, so you can fit 20 in a 10size pack.. that goes very nicely in a handbag. The window displays of the shops are very bizarre, all in little cages and absolutely stuffed full of products, nothing like the minimalism we have - **** ******** - my old boss - would hate it.
So I did the usual things: coffees in tiny cute places, waving at the builders on the bridge. I got lonely occasionally, so I named my suitcase Henry. His pull-along handle broke so I bought a belt and put it through the fabric strap. He's hard to pull, like his vacuum cleaner namesake. Didn't check out the spas this time, but ate some very strange foods - like jasmine rice with plum jam and fried Camembert; lobster ravioli with lemon grass cream.The 8hours on train was not as bad as anticipated.. In my compartment was a Romanian doctor called Botund, Boti for short - its quite a common name here, but I did have to conceal a small giggle that first time I heard it. I found out he was teaching himself English, and coerced him into pictionary and hangman.
Cluj is definitely not as universally beautiful as Budapest.. There's bad traffic and a lot of very boring rundown boxy flats and governmental buildings. BUT there is the occasional beautiful art nouveau wonder chucked in.. ahh.. And the people. Are fab. I'm staying with my aunt and uncle who are very cool but they're American so you know, doesn't count. The flat is all black and white and red, and with odd light fittings - the one in my bedroom is made of circuit boards. My aunt is very like my mother (they're sisters) which is very nice in someways, we think the same, like the same sorts of books, but its a bit painful how it makes me miss Mom more. I was scared that they wouldnt like me, but now after I cried in front of them during our prayer time, i think they do. Oh yeah, we read the liturgy three times a day! I was thinking I wanted to get into a rhythm of doing something like this.. I don't remember how to pray, and sometimes I don't have words.
Their friends are brilliant, so funny and very very smart. I had imagined them as worthy poor christian types, and that I would feel so superficial, western compared. And I do. A lot of them are in theatre or exhibitions, went to a brilliant play last week called Pantagruel, themed around food.. but i thought it was more about vices, and what we take from other people in relationships.
The class in the school I am working in is two grades combined, 24 children between 7 and 9. I speak absolutely none of their language.. but I do a mean mime, and we're picking up the basics from eachother - yes/no/thankyou/good. The other day at lunchtimeI taught them stuck in the mud, which was a fatal error as now we have to play it every opportunity, and they always chase me the most. The children are so in love with me its embarrassing. Choosing which table to sit at lunchtime has become a diplomatic exercise, and when we sit down in a circle its warfare as to who gets my right and left sides, and then who is by the. I feel like a fraudulent demi-god, and i'm just waiting until they all turn on me.
Even though we're in Romania, the school is Hungarian. Transylvania used to belong to Hungary, but then it got given to Romania after the war or some such, so even though the Hungarians never moved homes, they are now foreigners within a country, and they can sometimes get funny looks on the street for speaking their mother tongue. I can't help but draw comparisons to Gaelic in Ireland, which must drive everyone crazy.
So I'm learning two languages at once, H to speak to the children, and people at church, and R. to speak to people in shops and on the street. R. is easier because its from the same streams as French and German, some similar words and grammar structure. H. is this bizarre thing of its own, most similar to Finnish, with verbs tacked onto the ends of nouns and all the letters make very different sounds. they actively resist words such as computer coming into the language, they prefer to make up ' electronic machine that counts' or something. However I'd like to learn it because of its weirdness, and apparently its brilliant for writing poetry and puns because you can put the sentences in many different orders, to give different inflections.
So for school I get up obscenely early, but at least we finish at 3. The businesses all stay open past six. Theres open air markets with fruit and veg and cheese and meat - nothing quaint though, its all a bit gritty. Lots of cheap and tacky boutiques too, a bit like blue star in the galleries? The second-hand shops however, are ace. It's a bit early for ironic vintage here.. So the floral dresses are all mine!
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