bicyclemark

Must I leave the Dragon Bridge?

As I negociated the acquisition of some bananas at Ljubljana’s central market, the old man of the stand got very excited, apparently because he felt there was other fruit that deserved my attention.

He was especially insistant on these round fruits the color of peaches yet also resembling a tomato. He kept pointing to them and pointing to me and saying “Spanja”.. to which I smiled and pointed to myself and said “Portugal” (since its so nearby to the fruit). He laughed and furthered the exchange by pointing to his own chest and proudly proclaiming: Bosnia… Bosnia!

And so it goes in this city which I like to think I’ve grown to understand just a tiny bit.

The neighborhood that I regret not having spent even more time in, is that surrounding the infamous prison-turned-hostel-turned-cultural center called “Celica”. Anyone with a creative bone in their body seems to gravititate towards it. On several nights these past few days, I’ve sat with a new friend who comes from Melbourne. In town for a improve-theater festival, which sounds very interesting and Im not just saying that because she’s likely reading this post.

Tonight we walked around the block from Celica and stumbled upon something that can’t be properly communicated through words. Some would call it, a squatter’s paradise, I think one swedish guy referred to it as a free area.. whatever you want to call it.. all I saw was wall to wall art, painted, sculpted, or just simply hanging from the walls of the buildings. It was so impressive and so fascinating I decided to save my pictures for the daylight. So as we head back to the train station tomorrow to make our way BACK to Venice (story on that tomorrow perhaps), there will be a brief photosession at this place just beyond the beloved Celica.

And while I’m strolling with a camera… other people like the King of Jordan are pointing out some pretty undeniable realities.

What a Difference Ljubljana

What a difference a day makes. A day in Ljubljana I mean.

After arriving in the dark and booked into whatever we could find last minute and getting completely baffled by the complex bus system, it seemed like very little could go right during our stay here.

But then I woke up this morning, 24 hours later, in the most beautiful and simple and clean-fresh smelling bed and breakfast. There is this lovely Slovenian woman who pops into the living room every now and then, makes me tea, and asks how my day has been and what Ive seen. She finds it funny that so much time is spent on my laptop, but then, she doesn’t realize that Im a podjournalist and there’s not vacation from such a trade.. it flows through my veins. Not to mention, wifi is so abundant in Ljubljana as compared to any italian city or portuguese city.. this place could teach Europa a thing or two about technology!

This city is fanastic. It is small.. very charming… very quiet.. and even outside the city center.. people seem quite kindhearted.

On the morning we awaited the bus to get the hell out of that racket they called a hostel, I noticed a paint truck had sped by and one big can of white paint had fallen over and broken onto the pavement. The driver didn’t notice, and what followed was a scene that reminded me of Newark for some reason: the first few cars slow down, and attempt to drive around it, causing all kinds of dangerous driving.

Here’s what I notice: an old woman crossing the street, sees the paint container, and without flinching, starts dragging it across the street and out of traffic. She did it with such a style, that to me screamed “this is my community, I saw this and I can do something about it.” For some reason I remembed times in Newark where something like this would happen and people would just drive around it and never would anyone try to solve the problem. Maybe Im being too critical of my city-of-birth.

Five minutes later, across the street at another bus stop, an elderly slovenian man falls down while getting off the bus. Lots of busy people didn’t seem to notice, but every person around him turns and stops to check on him. They were almost competing to help him in some way.. 5, 6 people all gathered around. picking up his stuff, putting an arm around him. I could tell they were strangers.. and yet.. another scene that I found very charming and perhaps telling of Slovenian city life.

Who knows, maybe I see what I want to see… but I love this place. And now I wish to meet a Slovenian girl who sweeps me off my feet.. or vica-versa.. cause let me just say, they are beautiful in such a cool and independent way.

Slovenia.. not Slovakia..

Greetings from Ljubjana.. presumably beautiful capital of Slovenia. I wouldnt know because I arrived at night and went directly to the neverending line of buses at the bus stop. But now it is morning.. and as soon as I check out of this rediculous half-assed hostel, I shall really have a look around and enjoy what it has to offer.

(photo is a leftover from Verona)

Here’s text I wrote last night:

I could stay on this train forever. It is clean, it is quiet, it is amazingly comfortable, and we are travelling in a land I have never been to in my life.

I write this post from the international high speed train from Venice, Italy, destination Ljubjiana, Slovenia.

I love this train.

Funny thing, to get into Venice this afternoon with only enough time to walk out the door of the train station, snap some shots, buy a sandwich, and quickly get on this train out of town.

Some would say it was shame to miss out on the beauty of Venice. Tis true, it is beautiful. It is exactly as I remember it when I came to spend Carnivale here in the year 2000. Back then, it was my Polish-American friend Jacek and I, travelling for a week in Italy, taking a break from our studies in Aix-en-Provence, France.
But I’m much too excited to see Slovenia and get to know it a little bit.

I’ve been reading up on its amazing history. The story of it’s independence from Yugoslavia in the 90’s. The story of this part of the world in ancient times. It is nothing short of fascinating to see all the different cultures and groups that passed through here and settled, at one time or another.

Add one more to that list… 2006; Portuguese-American podjournalist speeds in on a Slovenian rail pendular train for his first ever visit.

A few nights ago, I was talking with a friend in Paris about life and how things haven’t been working out for me lately and all the uncertainties in my own life. She reminded me of the good life I have.. which, at the time, I argued was not all it is cracked up to be.

Adventures like this, small as they may be, i remember that she’s right.

bmtv28 From Como to Milano

Click To Play

It is quite a contrast, which I experienced, between Lake Como and the city of Milan. This video is an attempt to show some of that.

Meanwhile, on the Streets of Beirut

It would be nice to just continue to describe these days in Italy. And the plan to head to Slovenia tomorrow evening. But while I stroll and take photos, things are taking a terrible turn in Lebanon.

At a little café here in Verona, we stopped to get lunch, and I flipped through the local newspaper. Right there on the front page: ITALIAN SOLDIERS STATIONED IN LEBANON PREPARE FOR THE WORST. With a subtext about the build up to a civil war.

I’m not going to sit here and predict or expound upon the coming or not-coming of a civil war. I’d rather just say I hope it is not so. I hope it does not happen. But then again, when your country has been bombed into the stone age just recently, after having been bombed into the bronze age only years ago, then conditions are not exactly perfect for maintaining calm and fostering prosperity.

This comes as I noticed last night that the UN released a report siting numerous human rights violations by the Israeli military during their invasion of the country. Not that we needed a report, usually when you invade a country you’re already violating quite a few rights.

My authority on all things Lebanon has long been Chris Albritton, the original blog journalist, in my eyes. But I’ll also keep an eye on my dear friends at This Is Beirut, hopefully proper information can be put forth while a civil war will NOT happen. Hopefully.

Greetings from Verona

Two households, both alike in dignity,
In fair Verona, where we lay our scene,
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.
The fearful passage of their death-mark’d love,
And the continuance of their parents’ rage,
Which, but their children’s end, nought could remove,
Is now the two hours’ traffic of our stage;
The which if you with patient ears attend,
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.