Some Foolishness on Friday

It is the old postman's last day at work before retirement. So when he goes about his ultimate round, his soon to be former clients await him with presents.

When he rings at the last house in the street, a voluptuous blonde opens the door and invites him in. He is treated to the best sex of his life. Afterwards the woman makes him a refreshment and a cup of coffee. Under the cup of coffee he finds 20 euros. Puzzled, he asks the woman what that is all about.

"You know, this morning I asked my husband what I should give you as a farewell present. 'Fuck him,' he said, 'give him a few euros.' The food was my idea, though."

Freedom

It was raining when she came out of the building. She rummaged through her bag for the folding umbrella she knew was there but then, on a whim, changed her mind and stepped out, her face open to the raindrops. Feeling the rain on her face, her shoulders, her breasts, was refreshing after days of heat that lingered over the scorched land. She took off her sandals and set off running barefoot down the street, not minding the strange looks from passers-by.

She ran, raindrops beating against her slender body, blood pumping through her veins; she ran, feeling the freedom she had craved for so many years. She only stopped to catch her breath, rain dripping from the curls of her short-cut hair onto her already soaked top and pleated skirt.

She felt the sensation of silk pressing tight against her skin, accentuating the curves of her body, wrapping around her thighs, and all of the sudden she burst out laughing.

She knew she would never have to enter that building again.

Waiting

What is it about waiting that never leaves us at ease?

Waiting for the rain, waiting for the sun, waiting for the seasons to change...

The irritation of waiting in lines for goods or service...

The anxiety and discomfort of waiting for an appointment with a doctor or dentist...

The excitement and expectation of waiting for an object of one's desire – a house/flat, a car, a technical toy...

The plethora of emotions when waiting for an email, a phone call, a meeting from/with a friend, a lover, a partner...

And finally relief when waiting comes to an end, no matter the outcome...

We spend so much time and energy waiting that we forget how to live in the meantime.

Open Air Exhibition

It all started two years ago when the photo exhibition Earth From The Air by the famous photographer Yann Arthus-Bertrand took place in Tivoli park. The public response was enthusiastic and the photographs were on display most of the summer.

A young slovenian photographer set up an exhibition of the lansacape photographs from his world travels last year and again the response was very good.

This year's exhibition focuses on one of Slovenia's peculiarities: the Cerknica periodic lake and all its metamorphoses throughout the year.

Seeing that exibition makes me want to visit the place. It's quite peculiar that it is just a good half-hour drive from where I live and yet I have only visited it for sporting purposes when there's no time for sightseeing. I just might change that soon.

Just a few shots...

Nothing special really, I've taken better ones before.

But... we are only getting to know each other and I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

Leaves

Leaves are a bit like humans, don't you think? Some die before they even emerge from the buds, others are devoured by parasites or attacked by diseases before they can fully develop. Some are violently shredded and torn away from the tree by passing storms. Some age quickly, change colour and fall off before their time. Most grow up and work for common good, producing sugar and oxygen from carbon dioxide, until they are no longer useful, after which they are discharged and slowly wither until they fall. A few, though, refuse to let go when their time comes, although in the end they all die and rot, thus providing for the generations to follow. Yes, humans are much like leaves...

Old Willow

A tree, standing in the park like many others. It must have seen many winters, witnessed many spring romances, provided shade on many hot summer days, shed its leaves many times in autumn.

It still stands proudly beside a path, its foliage as lush and green as ever. But this summer a huge yellow fungus has blossomed on its trunk, a sure sign of the tree's ill health. Have the living conditions changed? Is global warming beginning to take its toll? Or is the age getting the better of it? How many more winters can it survive?

The fungus looks rather spectacular, though, doesn't it? I wonder how many passers-by ever notice it... most don't even notice the tree, I reckon.

Mixed Feelings

The day promises to be calm. I do my morning work in peace and without any upsets.

A friend has returned from vacation and we meet at a cafe. The air is much cleaner since the application of the smoking ban a few weeks ago and we have a lot to talk about so time passes all too quickly. The work can't wait too long and we have to part with a promise of another meeting the next day.

As I walk through the city along the river bank, light rain gently pattering on my umbrella, I feel stronger than ever that the summer is drawing to a close with the inevitability of the passing seasons. But the sun is still warm where I'll be going soon. The thought comforts me. If only...

The afternoon brings a welcome, although not completely unexpected, surprise. I am one big step closer to the fulfillment of my recent desire. I don't even care that the rain has intensified and I have to drive through ridiculously dense traffic; the main road is blocked and it takes me four times as long as usual to get from point A to point B. My passengers seem unperturbed, too, which makes the journey almost pleasant in spite of the adverse conditions.

By the time I return the sky has cleared and the gibbous moon hangs low above the southern sky. For a moment all is well with the world.

Afternoon in the park

A sunny late summer day attracts all kinds of visitors in the park.

Why is the man napping on a bench? Is he just enjoying the day, or is he tired, maybe drunk or even homeless? Seeking refuge from everyday madness? Does the bicycle leaning against the tree belong to him?

People refreshing themselves at the fountain look like they are going on a trek or have just returned from one. Travellers visiting the city or just passing through? Locals or foreigners?

Why did I take this photo in the first place? Why am I writing this nonsense?

I wish I knew...

Another poem by Prešeren

Too tired to think, hence another translated poem, although in my miserable opinion not as good a translation as the one I posted before.





Unmarried Mother

What was the need of you, little one,
My baby dear, my darling son,
To me - a girl, a foolish young thing,
A mother without a wedding ring?

My father cursed and beat me,
My mother in tears would entreat me;
My friends would blush and pass me by,
Strangers pointed at me on the sly.

And he who was my own true love -
Your father by the will above -
He wanders God knows how far from here.
Shamed because of us, poor dear.

What was the need of you, little one,
My baby dear, my darling son?
But whether there was need or no,
With all my heart I love you so.

There seem to open azure skies
Whene'er I look into your eyes;
And when on me you sweetly smile,
All I've suffered is gone for a while.

May He, by whom the birds are fed,
Joy and blessings on you shed!
Whether there was need or no,
With all my heart I love you so.

This is...

...the National and University Library, according to many Plečnik's most significant work in Ljubljana. Designed in 1931 and built between 1936 and 1941, it is a four storey and four wing building in the shape of irregular rectangle with two small inner courts.

The library contains a substantial collection of books from the 18th century, some earlier pieces and most publications of national value issued since. In 1944 a German aircraft crash landed on the library roof thus destroying some 60.000 books.

A Find

I am walking in the field, alone apart from the insects and birds. The sound of traffic from the right reminds me of the vicinity of the motorway. From the patch of the forest behind me a jay calls. Ahead of me and slightly to the left a hay-rack is waiting to be filled with scented hay. Power lines criss-cross the landscape in two different directions. Most of the clouds, covering the sky for the past two days, have withdrawn and this late summer day is bathing in sunshine.

There is little evidence of the recent storm. Some broken branches lying on the ground, the leaves still green, some mud alongside the path. If left on its own, the nature takes care of itself and recovers quickly from its own rage.

Shimmering from the hedge attracts my attention. A dragonfly! The sun reflects off its delicate but powerful wings. I follow it into the woods, hoping for a shot but with little success. But there in the bush lies something that wasn't there the last time I passed. A derelict ramshackle sofa with a mattress, obviously left there by humans - unless it flew in through a time warp - a foreign body in the natural environment. I wonder how long it will take for that to decompose if it stays there. Oh, the nature will take over eventually if left alone, but certainly not overnight. And the sofa may stay there for years - a sign of human messiness and duplicity.

Oh!

"Shit!"

"Sorry?"

"It's frozen again. And just as I was beginning to…"

"Frozen? Who's frozen?"

"It's what, not who. That damned computer, that's what."

"Whaddya mean, frozen - in this heat? I might have understood if you said it had melted or something like that but frozen? Beats me!"

"Of course it beats you, you… ignorant buffoon! You can't even look up missing calls on your mobile let alone set up a new address and now you expect me to explain… oh, forget it!"

"Why should I learn if I've got you to do it for me. And, I don't want to know about that computer anyway. But, if it causes you so much trouble, why don't you consult somebody?"

"Well, here's the news, darling: from now on you're on your own as regards that mobile. Besides, I think it's high time I got a new computer."

"Right. And next you'll want a new DVD and a new microwave and a new car…"

"Well, we do need these things. But since you're so reluctant to change, perhaps what I need most is a new man."

A Bargain?

I discovered this notice today taped on a lamp post not far from where I live. A local driving school advertises their services in this manner. They offer several discounts for driving courses in the summer months.

Great! So let's produce more instant kamikaze drivers. As if the road statistics doesn't speak for itself. Approximately 10% more people have been killed in traffic accidents on Slovenian roads this year than in the same period last year.

Either I'm missing something (which I probably am) or there is something wrong with the equation.

Another view...

... of Prešeren Square, this time towards Čopova Street.



Matija Čop, after whom the street is named, was a Slovenian linguist and literary historian, and Prešeren's close friend and tutor, directing him into romanticism by his influence. He was extremely educated and spoke 19 (yes, nineteen) languages. The man died in 1835 at an early age of 38 drowning in the river Sava (there are no details to be found as regards the circumstances of his death, but - and this is merely speculation - Prešeren and his companions were known for their boozing and this might have happened after one of those sprees)

Coo, 19 languages! I'd be more than happy if I spoke three or four properly.

Prešeren Square

This is where Čopova Street (the one from the previous post) ends. The square is named after a bard whose statue stands there (of course) and who is considered Slovenian greatest poet. One of his poems, The Toast, has in fact become Slovenian national anthem.

Here's one of his sonnets (from a cycle named Sonnets of Unhappiness) translated into English:-


O'er thee, Misfortune, I have ceased to wail,
I'll utter no reproaches any more.
Thank God, I'm used to griefs thou hast in store
And to the sufferings in life's strong jail.

No burden can now hurt my shoulders frail;
My lips are used to bitter drinks of yore;
My feet, like leather, are no longer sore,
I dread no thorny path, no irksome trail.

Stiff are my limbs and joints as if confined.
My heart, once sensitive, is hard as stone,
The claims of sorrow have subdued my mind.

All fear is fled; with it all hopes have flown.
Should Fate caress or beat me, it will find
Insensibility of flesh and bone.

By the way, that sign at the front of the picture is part of an artsy-fartsy project; above the square, at the end of Čopova Street is installed a device which sprinkles water on the surface below. Somewhat pretentious but quite refreshing on hot days like today.

Take a walk with me...

...along Čopova street, one of the few in Ljubljana reserved strictly for pedestrians.

As in many cities, traffic is a major problem in Ljubljana. The city centre is jammed with vehicles and finding a parking place often proves an impossible task. Attempts have been made to clear the centre of cars but they all resulted in even more chaos. Meanwhile, everyone and their mother wants to get as close to their destination as possible (with their own means of transport, of course), thus making some streets and squares almost impassable.

There is public transport, of course, but coaches are uncomfortable and the intervals too long. Still, some people actually use it. Me too, although I admit to being guilty of sometimes using my own car to get me to a specific venue, that usually being the market.

Strange Fruit

This strange fruit has been discovered growing on a hedge in the outskirts of the capital. Rumour has it that a citizen (who wants to remain unnamed) got tired of waiting forever for an appointment with an optometrist and has developed a spectacle-growing bush instead. The new arboreal species is still in early stages of development but first results have already been recorded.

Cursed!

On my walk today I came across a man. An ordinary man, one you would,'t give a second look. Or so it seemed. He joined me uninvited, as if by coincidence, on a stretch of path along a stream, a place I always look forward to visiting as one can find abundance of life there, including herons and various insects, dragonflies in particular. This time it was a different kind of life that interfered with my intention to indulge in a natural world.

I tried to shake the man off by pausing here and there to admire a flower or a butterfly fluttering among the weeds and finally vanishing across the stream, but to no avail. The man paused when I paused and proceeded when I proceeded, pretending to admire the same things that I did.

»How do you think all these things came into existence?« he suddenly asked.

Oh, so that's where we're heading. I knew I couldn't get rid of him until we reached the fork in the path. So I sped up and said: »Erm...brought to Earth by aliens?«

He seemed unperturbed by my reply and gave me a lecture about God and His almightiness and how He created everything including aliens and how following Him is the only right way and how on Judgement Day only true believers will be given eternal life whereas others will vanish into oblivion (hmmm... whatever happened to Hell?) and a full load of such nonsense.

As I finally reached the point where I could leave the man behind, I left wondering why on earth anybody would want to live forever.

But something else he said amused me to pieces. It was about God and Lucifer; God being allegedly perfect and unmistakable and Lucifer his favourite and the cleverest of angels. But Lucifer 'became pretentious' and thought he could give advice to God which made Him angry and He expelled Lucifer, thus making him what is known as Satan.

Hmmm... a rebel against self-proclaimed Perfection? I think I rather fancy that Lucifer guy.

Sam

Sam is a hyperactive person. Wherever he appears, his presence is always noticeable. He is neither tall nor particularly good looking but his personality radiates way beyond his physical appearance.

The first thing one notices are his steel grey eyes, nestled neatly under thick black eyebrows. His strong curly hair, always kept short, and a goatee, are also pitch black. It is difficult to determine his age; could be anything between 30 and 45. He rarely smiles, but when he does, a full set of healthy, if slightly yellowish, teeth is displayed.

I first met Sam several years ago at a party I didn't want to attend but found myself there after much talking into by a friend. He was the centre of attention, flirting with every girl in sight while I sat as quietly as possible in a far corner, the friend having deserted me some time ago. The music was too loud to my liking and I was looking for an opportunity to leave the scene as quietly as possible.

»Going somewhere?« I heard a voice behind me as I was struggling with my coat. I turned around and saw Sam, ready to face the winter night.

»Actually, I don't like the music too much and I thought I'd catch the last bus home. Now, what are you doing in your coat?«

»Well, I don't like the way this party is developing and... hey, care for a late drink? I can give you a lift afterwards.«

»Hmmm... why not!«

So we found a bar where the music was not too loud and chatted about many things. He told me that he was married and loyal to his wife and had three boys and was unhappy with his job as an accountant in a financial institution. He said he had gazillion ideas how to improve his working environment but his employers wouldn't listen to him. He said he had a few psychic experiences. It was fun listening to him and we parted as friends although I had a vague feeling things weren't exactly as they seemed.

I enquired discretely with a colleague who had known Sam for a long time.

»Don't you know? He lost his son just about a month ago. Drowned in a lake.«

I kept seeing Sam in the months to come. I respected his silence and never mentioned his loss. It took him almost a year to speak up.

We still hear from each other occasionally. The last time we spoke he had four boys and was still loyal to his wife. He has changed half a dozen jobs, though, but still hasn't found an employer who would appreciate his ideas.

A silly joke and a pic

In the old city an artist is painting a motive on canvas. Two locals pass by.

"Look at this man!" says the first one, "That's an awful lot of work he has to put in to capture the scene."

"Serves him right," adds the other, "next time he won't forget to bring his camera."

***

Well, I hadn't forgotten to bring my camera on that occasion and this is what it captured: the bank of the Ljubljanica river with part of the Cobbler's Bridge (which happens to be another of Plečnik's works).

Found And Lost

“Come in, Lucy, join us in bed.”

A five-year-old girl obliged willingly. She snuggled up in the warm sheets between her grandpa and grandma who were waiting for her to join them in their large twin bed.

“Bye, ma,” she said contentedly as her mother turned around to leave the bedroom, soon to be out in the crisp winter morning again.

“Bye, honey, be a good girl. See you soon.”

Lucy loved staying with her grandparents. Everything felt so warm and cosy and granny would let her stay in bed until the kitchen range was heated and a huge pot of water on the plate steaming. She would then make hot cocoa for all of them – with skimmed milk for Lucy, buttered the bread for her and spread a thick layer of apricot jam all over, just the way she loved it.

January mornings were bitterly cold and grandpa would only take her for a walk as far as the nearest grocery store. Lucy loved those walks as she knew grandpa would always buy her something: a tablet of chocolate, jelly sweets, a lollipop. These small gifts made her feel she was loved.

This morning was particularly cold. The walk from home to her grandparents’ seemed endless and Lucy was chilled to the bone once mum had delivered her in their warm embrace. No wonder she was reluctant to get up when called for breakfast. But grandma was indulgent with her and let her linger in bed longer than usual.

As she lay there under the quilt, alone, cuddled in an embryo-like position, her senses busy absorbing the warmth of the eider-down and the familiar smells of the people she loved, her slender hands, still not completely recovered from exposure to the morning cold, slid imperceptibly between her thighs, pressed tightly against each other. She had never done this before, not that she remembered, but slight movement of her fingers, awakened from their numbness, over the warm softness in between her thighs sent a tickling sensation up her spine. It was a pleasant one and, as much as it stunned her, made her want to explore further. So, with all her innocence, she kept moving her bony fingers, touching and rubbing herself with varying speed and pressure and the pleasant sensation escalated in intensity until…

At the age of five Lucy discovered her sexuality.

Lucy kept her secret but continued to play with herself. She sensed the adults wouldn’t be too happy if they knew what she was doing but was completely unprepared to what was about to happen.

Winter passed and days grew longer and warmer. One sunny spring morning mother brought Lucy in as usual and let her join grandpa who was waiting in bed for her to arrive. After giving her a hug grandpa got up to join the women in the kitchen. Lucy was quite happy to be left alone and set about masturbating as she was wont to do for the last few months. What she didn’t know, though, was that mother hadn’t left yet and didn’t expect her enter the bedroom along with grandma. The adult women realised quickly what had been going on and Lucy had never seen either of them so outraged. It was so bad that she erased the details from her memory. In fact, she buried the memory of the whole episode, especially the final incident, deep inside her subconsciousness. She never touched herself again for many years to come.

At the age of six Lucy abandoned her sexuality.

This man...

...must have been sitting on that bench for a very long time waiting for somebody or something as he has become all stiff and rigid. He seemed petrified when I sat beside him and tried to involve him in a conversation. His lips remained sealed. Perhaps I should try kissing him?

Anyway, he is sitting there surrounded by greenery only a stone's throw from the city centre in a park called Tivoli. The park is a nice place for a quick walk or for spending an afternoon in the open. Squirrels and finches and tits are used to being fed and come begging for food if one is patient enough. Outdoor photographic exhibitions take place regularly every summer and there is a pond with a restaurant not far away. The more sporting inclined can play boules or tennis or basketball on corresponding objects.

I visit the park (but not the man) quite regularly to clear my head from work-induced stress. I'm quite sure the squirrels and birds enjoy my visits just as much as I do.

This scaffolding…

…is being erected around The Skyscraper. Yes, that's the building I wrote about a while ago, stating it was in desperate need of renovation.

Well, a consensus seems to have been reached as regards investing in said renovation and the works are underway. Incidentally, façade works have also started on the adjacent building wherein the Slovenian Central Bank resides.

Ah yes… things have to look shiny and polished, on the outside at least, for at the beginning of 2008 Slovenia will assume its half-year presidency of the Council of the European Union. Big deal! Who knows which country presides said council at present anyway?

The Flight

Words eluded her. She had this urge to write, to express herself, but she could find no words. She had so much to say. If only...

In her daydreams she would conjure up all kinds of stories. She would transform her otherwise boring life into a wonderful adventure. She would win the heart of her secret love by means of her rhetoric. She would have the answers to every possible scenario. The dialogues in her head were honed to perfection. There was nothing she couldn't achieve. If only...

She was staring at a blank sheet of paper again, her pen poised in her right hand, her mind empty. Nothing. No words. Not even images. She sighed and put the pen aside. There's no use. She'll never be a writer. Then she absent-mindedly grabbed the paper and started folding it. The next thing she knew she was holding a paper airplane in her hands. Had she made this? Would it fly? She had to try it, but where?

She ran out of the flat towards the river, the paper plane firmly in her hand. She was breathing heavily when she reached the bridge. She knew she would not be able to retrieve the plane once she released it. But she wanted to do it, she had to let go. The bridge arched high above a canyon, connecting the residential area where she came from with the old medieval kernel of the town. She made sure she was above the deepest point of the canyon, then leaned over the fence and with a gentle flick of her wrist released her little treasure.

The plane took flight but after a few metres faltered and plummeted towards the bottom of the canyon. She watched it falling, anxiety gripping at her heart. She suddenly realised she had leaned too far over the fence and was beginning to lose balance. But then the plane slowly levelled off and started drifting gently on an updraft. She knew everything would be fine.

More Market

Ljubljana Market from the other side. The place is much more vibrant on working days (the market is only closed on Sundays). To the right, outside the shot, are the open stalls, and in the distance, at the end of the colonnade, a pair of dragons guard the right bank entrance to the Dragon Bridge.

It can be seen from the pic that the poplars are still lush and green while the chestnuts have already started shedding their leaves. For some reason chestnuts are always the first to do so, thus announcing that the end of summer is not very far away. I don't know why I seem to feel these subtle changes stronger with every passing year. Perhaps that's the nature's way of telling me the summer of my life is drawing to an end...

The Ljubljana Market

This is the waterside view of Ljubljana Market as seen from the Dragon Bridge towards the Triple Bridge (Tromostovje). It is a beautiful piece of architecture designed by Jože Plečnik, the architect whose work can be seen in Vienna, Prague, Ljubljana and many other places all over Slovenia and beyond (my only reader will know what I mean if I say Plečnik is sort of a Slovenian version of Charles Rennie Mackintosh).

The Market is a good place to visit not only for its architecture (which the locals hardly notice) but also because one can almost always get fresh fruit and veggies in the open stalls as well as meat, fish, dairy products, pastry, herbs, spices, nuts, honey and other bee products and many other things, including souvenirs and lots of cheap tat in the colonnades.

I visit the Market almost every Saturday. I quite enjoy browsing through various kinds of fruits and greenery throughout the place but usually buy goods from the few vendors I know and trust.

Colour And The Lack Of It

The beginning of August is the time of year when one begins to feel change. Slowly but surely the days are getting shorter, mornings cooler, birds are getting ready for - not quite yet but soon, too soon - the autumn migration, and there's this vague indefinable feeling of... loss?

Sometimes the loss is more tangible and/or terminal: end of a relationship, death of an acquaintance...

And yet, some colour can almost always be found, sometimes in the most unlikely places, even in the dreariest of days. Whoever put those chairs in the fountain to brighten the grey Friday morning deserves at least a mention in a blog.

The Power of Advertising

I misspelled a word recently. No big deal really, happens all the time. But this particular case made me think about something else.

There is a bank in Slovenia belonging to the Hypo Alpe Adria Group. The bank has adopted a hippopotamus as their symbol and, of course, uses it in advertising.

Well, I rarely watch TV and refuse to watch commercials at all. I don't read advertisements in papers. And yet, the image of the river horse somehow connected in my mind to the name of the bank. So writing 'hyppo' instead of 'hippo' came quite naturally to me.

They say you need to see a specific piece of information at least six times before you are able to recognise it. I suppose I must have seen that ad often enough to have it etched in my memory. Which makes me wonder how much more rubbish is stuffed in my brain taking place of more useful information. Damn the power of advertising!

Rendezvous

Jon was early as usual at the café. He chose an empty table from which he had a good view of the street and everyone passing by. He wanted to see his date when she arrived.

As he sat there, sipping a latte and fiddling about his brand new mobile phone while scanning the street, he wondered what she would look like. She would be wearing a red top and white linen trousers, that much he knew. Would she arrive on time?

At the exact time of their appointment his phone rang.

"Apollo?" he heard on the other side. "It's me, Aphrodite. Are you there yet?"

"Yes, I'm here, waiting. My table is under the awning, the first one up the street, you can't miss it."

"Good. I'll be with you in five minutes."

So this is it. He was looking forward to finally meeting this mysterious woman. He still loved Irene but after almost eleven years of marriage something didn't feel quite right any more. Ennui? His wife would spend more and more time in her study, claiming she had work to do. So, as a consequence, he, too, spent more time at his computer. He discovered an internet forum which covered many of his interests and to his astonishment soon found himself participating. One member in particular intrigued him. She was writing under the monicker Aphrodite and they seemed to have much in common. He wasn't sure who was the first to suggest a rendezvous but was all for it once the opportunity arose.

"Apollo?"

A soft voice woke him from his reveries. He stood up, taking off his sunglasses.

"Aphro..."

"YOU?!" two voices shouted at the same time.

There they stood, staring at each other, husband and wife.

A little experiment...

Oh well... alone in an elevator with just enough time for a bit of fooling around...