tomorrow never knows

The Beatles
Turn off your mind, relax
and float down stream
It is not dying
It is not dying

Lay down all thought
Surrender to the void
It is shining
It is shining

That you may see
The meaning of within
It is being
It is being

That love is all
And love is everyone
It is knowing
It is knowing

That ignorance and hate
May mourn the dead
It is believing
It is believing

But listen to the
color of your dreams
It is not living
It is not living

Or play the game
existence to the end
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning
Of the beginning

жега братче..

Жега е, а си говорим за ски с едни хора в един форум и само се объркват нещата, щото до зимата има още 4-5 месеца..

гимн России, the national anthem of Russia

много як текст са си написали момчетата за химна, а мелодията била същатата като на химна на СССР, само дето махнали частите с Ленин и неделимия съюз и ги заменили с някви други патриотични излияния.. как попаднах тука ли, ми влязох в уикипедията да търся един статистически тест за кво се използва ( Кендал Ро) и гледам руския химн.. и ето на..


Россия - священная наша держава,
Россия - любимая наша страна.
Могучая воля, великая слава -
Твое достоянье на все времена!

Припев:
Славься, Отечество наше свободное,
Братских народов союз вековой,
Предками данная мудрость народная!
Славься, страна! Мы гордимся тобой!

От южных морей до полярного края
Раскинулись наши леса и поля.
Одна ты на свете! Одна ты такая -
Хранимая Богом родная земля!

Припев

Широкий простор для мечты и для жизни
Грядущие нам открывают года.
Нам силу дает наша верность Отчизне.
Так было, так есть и так будет всегда!

melt!

So we went to the melt festival, in a town deep in the heart of Eastern Germany, and there was music and celebration and we had a very good time, and then some not so gut time, and now we are back to Bremen, yey. More to come, .. scenes of the rising sun on sunday after a night of dancing to beautiful music with lots of nice people, none of which I knew, but yet they were all so close and personal..
www.meltfestival.de

hurricane festival 2006, after the rain

Before the Hurricane came it was all dust and lines of people waiting for things

and we were all in the middle of this field...

cleaning up the day after, 5 euros a bag

The Doener shop owners saying good bye to the 50 000 festival people.. they looked content, as if they have just counted their money

The camping site after the night of the storm..

evacuation area

Exodus, movement of the people

any train you like

..or a ride to Berlin

pieces of the puzzle:talking shit (about a pretty sunset): Sweden(take 2)

Cold, the cold touch of metal on my gloveless hand. I reach out and grab the railing of the stairs taking me down to the lower deck. The ships is gently moving in the rhythm of the dancing sea, and the horizon is winter-cold and in the colors of the setting northern sun. We are slowly sailing south back to the Tjarno harbour after another day spent in the grips of the April North sea. The cold of the metal is creeping up my fingers, reminding me how cold is the water on the other side of the railing. It’s all about boundaries here, the metal hull of our tiny ship, and the grand ocean all around, the curves of the coastline where the sea meets the land, the horizon – the thin red line between up and down, between the day and the night, at sunset… The night comes so slowly here, as if the Earth is trying to make it up for those long cold and dark winter months that have just passed and with the first touch of the spring sun, she just wouldn’t let go, she just wants more and more of its warmth and light, until one day in the middle of June the night disappears completely, the sun gently touches the horizon , dives into the water west of the Tjarno harbour, and in a few minutes comes out again…
And somewhere deep below us are the coral reefs, how weird it seems that in these cold seas there are places and life one would expect to find somewhere far South, in the tropics and in the deep-blue sea of the Equator…. Slowly and steadily the thin metal ropes are lowering the lander with the video camera down to the reefs, in a few hours it will come to life, lights on, tape recording, lens wide open, opening our eyes to this strange underwater kingdom. Before that the Swedish underwater robots controlled from the deck by the steady hands of the old captain will have to finish their job and overcome the currents and the darkness, to find their way through the dark labyrinth of the bottom and find the perfect spot for our underwater eye… and in the dark corners of the reefs, just beyond the reach of our lights, mysterious sea creatures will be wondering what are these strange and clumsy objects that are invading their world…. After a few hours of struggling with ropes, winches, pullies, joystick controls and cameras, clumsy robot hands and even clumsier students on deck, it all worked out. I gave my prayers to the gods of electronics and Murphy, hoping this time nothing would go wrong and I will get my precious videos back to the ship. We shall find out pretty soon, in a few more days when we come back to pick up the lander hoping the creatures and ghosts of this dark ocean have spared it.. It could have been so much simpler and fun, imagine a little fishing boat anchoring in the a blue lagoon , tropical midday heat and the sun is high in the blue skies, scuba divers with big yellow tanks on their backs roll over the side of the ship, then comes a 30 meter descent in crystal clear waters ( what better way to fly than diving in such waters..).. Up North things are difficult and complicated, and so are people, all so experienced and strict, hardy and secure like large chunks of granite boulders carried across the lands by the ice sheets that covered this place only a few thousand years ago. You can see it in their eyes at sunset, all people from the North would have this flame in their eyes, ‘yes we survived another day and we shall continue again tomorrow, and let the summer days get closer and closer and then we shall celebrate.. before winter comes back again’..
We are all very tired, the old Irish sailor who seems to be the closest acquaintance of that sweet pain in the end of the day is on the main deck talking to the Swedish captain about the deep blue, the English and Greek coral reef researchers are sitting speechless at the deck staring at the amazing colors of the setting sun . And me, I’m there too, content, cold and happy, in the hands of forces of nature stronger than me, and one in particular, so distant and incomprehensible, and yet so close and beautiful that it hurts. I am trying not to think of her, yet it seems as if the whole North is arranged itself so that the invisible threads of my thoughts and memories would take me back to her again and again, would make me travel a thousand kilometers south and look for her… how long has it been since that cold and dark April rainy day when I left, days, weeks, months? I can still see the gray skies and and the faces of the gray people sitting in the cantina looking as if knowing nothing’s about to happen today, I’m in a rush to load the car and head north , away from this place, back to Sweden. She’s there too, passing through the rain like a ghost, I run after her and pass her the little piece of paper with words trying to say things are so beautiful that I want to cry… Where are you? Is the dark April rain still falling down on you, did you at least for a second believe me and my inexplicable confidence that it must be so, that you are bigger and brighter even than the nuclear explosion-sunset taking place in front of my weary and amazed eyes…
Where will the wind in the invisible sails of our metal ship take me, will it bring pieces of these strange and true days back south, back to the heart of darkness on the shores of the Lesum river.. How many roads do I have to travel until I finally find myself? I want to be the man sitting on this ship, forever lost in the intensity of this moment, and later when I come back to you, still be that man, though I know you wouldn’t be waiting for me anyways…. Even the random music coming out of my headphones seems to be in tune with the world around, turquoise hexagon sun,boc and the beats and beautiful harmonies of the track blend with the images of a million shades or red sunset projected on my retina, and it all neatly fits into some unknown folder in my memories, waiting for me to return and be there again… the cold touch of metal on my gloveless hand, the taste of salt, the cold northerly wind and the warmth inside…
April 2006, Tjarno, Sweden

pieces of the puzzle:talking shit (about a pretty sunset): Швеция

Cold, the cold touch of metal on my gloveless hand. I reach out and I grab the перипета на стълбището водещо към долната палуба. Корабът се поклаща леко в ритъма на танцуващото море, а хоризонта е зимно-студен с цветовете на залчващото северно слънце. Движим се на юг обратnо към пристанището в Тярно след още един ден прекаран в прегръдките на мартенското северно море. Студеният метал се прокрадвa между пръстите ми и ми напомня колко по-студена е водата от другата страна на парапета. Граници, малката черупка на кораба ни, и големия океан, извивките на крайбрежието, където той среща сушата, хоризонта – граница между горе и долу, между деня и нощта, по залез. Колко бавно се стъмва тук на север, сякаш земята се опитва да компенсира за дългите дни прекарани в зимен мрак и студ и с първите лъчи на пролетното слънце се събужда и иска още и още от топлите му лъчи, докатo накрая някъде в средата на лятото, нощта напълно изчезва, слънцето се докосва до хоризонта, потапя се за малко във водите на запад от пристанището в Тярно, и изплува отново...
А някъде под нас са кораловите рифове, колко нелогично е в тези студени води да има картини, които би трябвало да са нялъде на юг, в тропиците, в топлото синьо море на Екватора... Бавно, но сигурно въжето с прикачената към него подводна камера се спуска към рифовете, след около час тя ще се включи, следвайки програма зададена и през кабелите на древен лаптоп, и ще отвори очите ми за този подводен свят. Преди това шведските подводни роботи, управлявани от мостика от опитните ръце на капитана, трябва да си свършат добре работата и да преборят теченията и тинята, да намерят подходящото място за моя подводен пратеник и го закотвят там. Е, май успяхме, след няколко часа борба с въжета, лостове за управление, камери, течения, навигационни уреди, несръчни роботски ръце и неорентирани команди, всичко беше наред. След няколко дена ще сме пак на същото място, и ще търсим камерата, за да я приберем на кораба и видим това, което тя е запечатала на дигиталните си ленти... а можеше да е толкова просто, тропическа жега , малко корабче закотвя в синята лагуна, група водолази със големи жълти бутилки на гърбовете скачат през палубата със задно кълбо, под водата, 30 метра свободен полет към дъното, после идва и камерата... на Север всичко е по-сложно и трудно осъществимо, затова и хората са такива, изпитани и доказали се, твърди като гранитените блокове довлечени на хиляди километри от родните планини от някогашните ледници, които са покривали всичко тук само допреди няколко хиляди години... Всички сме изморени, старият ирландки моряк до болка познал сладката умора след още един дълъг ден в морето е на палубата, говори си с двамата шведи управляващи кораба за местните особеностина голямото синьо, другите двама – англичанин и грък, специалисти по тези коралови рифове също са доволни и изморени, седят и гледат в захлас картините на западния хоризонт по залез... аз, аз съм доволен, замръзнал, щастлив, в плен на стихиите, особено на една, далечна и трудно разбираема, и толкова близка, че чак боли. Опитвам се да не мисля за нея, но сякаш целия Север се е подредил така, че невидимите нишки на мисълта ми да се връщат при нея отново и отново, да изминават мислено хилядата километра на юг, които ни разделят и да я търсят.. а сякаш онзи тъмен априлски дъжд беше не беше преди няколко дни, толкова далечен ми се струва сега.. сивото небе и сивия дъжд, сипещ се от него, сивите хора, гледащи намусено навън, седейки в столовата и чакайки нещо да не се случи и днес, аз бързам да прибера всичко в колата и да замина обратно към Швеция, а тя, тя преминава като сянка, аз я догонвам в дъжда и и давам лист с неясно обяснение затова как всичко е толкова хубаво, че чак ми се плаче.. Къде си , а? Дали още те вали онзи дъжд, дали поне за малко повярва на думите ми, на необяснимата ми и неразбираема и за мен самия убеденост, че съм прав, че ти си по-голяма и от този огромен атомен залез, който се случва пред невярващите ми очи.. Накъде ли ще ме отнесе вятъра духащ цял ден в невидимите платна на металния ни кораб, дали ще понесе поне малко от тези истински дни на юг към мъгливото ми съществуване в сърцето на ‘свободна ‘ Германия? Колко пътища трябва да извърви човек, докато стигне до себе си.. Искам да бъде този човек на този кораб , удавен в този момент и в този залез и после, когато се върна при теб, макар и да знам че изобщо не ме чакаш. Дори и музиката в слушалките ми някак си е усетила мястото и е пуснала случайно музика, сякаш направена за това място и този момент, turquoise hexagon sun, boards of Canada.. бавните ноти на мелодията се сливат с всичко случващо се наоколо и завинаги остават част от мен тук и сега. Ръката ми, студения допир на металния парапет, ръка без ръкавица...
Talking shit about a pretty sunset, blanketing opinions that I’ll probably regret soon
My mind changes so much I can’t even trust myself.. the song randomly started on my ipod and the magical cords on the 7th minute of it neatly fitted into the folds of my memories about this place and time, forever to be there when I come back to that moment.

pieces of the puzzle:people:the new zealander

".. I was a student in London back then and I wasn't really too sure what to do after I finished my undergraduate studies. I had this friend with whom we worked in the car repair shop and he knew I was quite handy with cars. He was in the 'travel across Africa by truck' business back then and one day he offered me to join him for the next trip from Morocco to Cape Town. I couldn't say no of course.. everything is packed in the truck and it is our home for the next 6 months, accomodation, food, showers, kitchen.. a group of 10 people on a truck for such a long time can teach you a lot about group psychology... and navigating thru the African buerocracy, border crossing requirements, civil wars and dictators gone crazy, picking the right spot to camp for the night ( no lions nearby, no crocodile-infested rivers), these kind of things to take care of can really give you an exciting life... in some months time we were in S. Africa, then we went back to England... when my friend offered me to join the next trip across the continent I naturally joined him again, this time I was really working for him.. after a couple of years in the business I got my own truck and I started organizing trips myself, eventually I ended up staying in Africa.. that was back in the early 80's.. and no I neveer went back to New Zealand.. I lived in Zimbabwe for quite a while, doing trips with tourists there, exloring the country etc.. since a few years ago I am here in Maputo, trying to start the same businesss in Mozambique..." These are some of the things the crazy Kiwi told me over the couple of days we spent with him during our trip to Swaziland. I could only imagine what things he must have seen and experiences during these 20 years of tavelling up and down across Africa and dream I would see at least a tiny little fraction of what he has.. I wonder if there is a moment after which the amazement of discovering new things and being in a new place in a new corner of the world disappears and becomes habitual.. should have asked him..


the New Zealander and the rhinos