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| I am green. Always green. Not blue... Not quite yellow... Always, infuriatingly Somewhere in between. ____________________________________ My favorites 9 Chickweed Lane Hotmail Google |
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| Aug. 9th, 2005 @ 05:30 pm (no subject) | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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floatiness-meter:
 yeah!in my head: "It's almost like being in love"
Heck, yes!!!!! | |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| Jun. 21st, 2005 @ 03:50 pm boredom...... | |||
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Life has meaning again... and it's very interesting. We shall see what we shall see. The fact that it's summer hasn't quite sunk in. The fact that June is about a week away from being over... hasn't even hit the water yet. The fact that I'm days behind on my homeschooling schedule is something I'm trying to ignore. I'm really just writing this because I'm sick of having the same old entry up. And I'm bored, and avoiding working on health. yawnin my head: "Thine is the Glory" So, here's the news, should anyone care to know: I officially have a job! =) Happiness! I'm working as a library page at the Greensburg Public Library. I start Monday. Yayness! I'm getting my driver's permit tomorrow... assuming I can get up early enough. So awesome. Mom's actually been very proactive with the whole thing, which is rather surprising. Esther is thirteen. I've gotten over it and moved on. The cats got feline lukemia boosters today. Let's all be excited. | |||
| Jun. 13th, 2005 @ 02:14 pm la | |||
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Well... life is back to "normal," I guess, except that I still have this weird case of dyslexia and/or tendency for typos, which is kind of getting annoying. The summer still doesn't feel like a summer yet, although it's getting there. I'm still crawling out of this hallucinatory dream stage brought on by... well, the year in general I guess, although the fact that I was out of the country for two months probably had something to do with it. Oh yeah, and I turned 16. (!) amusedin my head: Star Wars bad guy theme In other news, I made a new schoolbag for myself yesterday and today. That's right, made. And it is totally awesome, amazingly funky, and even slightly ugly. But I love it. Life Wine... in about a month, I will have gone 9 months without writing anything vaguely good. I'm hoping that I give birth to something beautiful at the end of this tedious gestation period. I do beleive I'm beginning to have labor pains, though, and I wouldn't say no to an early delivery. Also, Esther is turnoing THIRTEEN on Thursday.... something that is really weird, and ... and.... she's my baby sister, she's not allowed to turn thirteen!!! Oh, and by the way, according to Kathy (a reliable source to be sure), our area is under surveillance by the Secret Service. Just so you all know, your comments are being screened not just be me!!! (*wa hahahahaha!!*) that's all for now; mumsy has to use the phone | |||
| Jun. 12th, 2005 @ 11:38 am Sugar and Butter | |||
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I feel as though I am bursting with life; young, tired, warm, lazy life. It’s like when all you want to do is read a book, but your foot won’t stop dancing. And it’s everywhere, in everything I do. In the way my hair brushes my shoulders so wonderfully at this length; the way my knuckles tingle a bit after I crack them; the way the heat drapes itself over me like a musty wool blanket; the way the rain smells like earth and water and blood all at once. It’s everywhere, and everything, inside me and dancing to get out, shaking itself like salt all over everything I touch. And every once in a while, I feel SIXTEEN, the way little nine year old kids think about being sixteen, and grown up and still young and wild and free. But at the same time, I feel so old, and wise almost, and tired, but a happy, lazy tired. I feel like I know everything. Or like my tongue knows everything, because every time I open my mouth, it speaks, and it knows. It’ not just speculating anymore; it knows what it says is true. And the crazy, dancing life energy in me takes hold of that knowledge and dances away with it, spins it around and around. I feel like a cup of sugar dumped over two sticks of butter. Yes. That is exactly how I feel. alivein my head: some ballet | |||
| Jun. 7th, 2005 @ 01:20 pm Sixteen | |||
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Well, I'm sixteen, as of 12:05 yesterday. It wasn't actually as painful as I had anticipated. I think I'm starting to figure out who I am again, and conveniently enough, it happened to be right as I was turning 16, so that just sort of got assimilated into my new definition of myself. Going to school has been so awesome, and seeing everybody again, and hanging out with Mr. Soff yesterday, and at the library today. Oh, and history today? omigosh, wonderfulness! That was the best period all year. I am going to miss this year so much, despite all the bad things that happened. It won't ever be the same again, and we won't have Mr. Soff or any of our other totally awesome classes and insane teachers (*cough* Mrs. Kihn *cough*). We four all have to have classes together or...or... I don't know what. But we jsut have to have classes together. And, on a slightly related topic, I really really really hope I get inspired to write again soon. I think it's going to come soon. I really hope it does, because I miss it so badly. And I can't wait for ... this summer to happen. I hope it's really awesome. happyin my head: Norah Jones | |||
| Jun. 3rd, 2005 @ 02:59 pm I'm Back!!! | |||
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Well, I’m back. The flights all went well. Got into Philly ½ hour early, left about ½ late, so whatever. I got to talk to Mumsie and Carla and Liz on a pay phone in Philly, which was wonderful. =) Customs was less of a problem than I had feared, and I managed to get the Monster off the carousel thingy all on my own, which I was very proud of. There was a backup with the baggage in Pittsburgh, but that was okay. And I saw Mom, and I hugged her, and I was happy. =) And then, I went to Carla’s house, and we basically didn’t stop hugging each other for the ½ hour I was there. It was so insanely good to see her again, and to be home in general. groggyin my head: "Baptized in Water" But it feels so weird. I feel like I’m just visiting, and I don’t quite fit anymore. My hair is a different consistency (I blame this on the anti-frizz conditioner in the shower). The bathroom is totally foreign—the toilet paper is too thin, the flusher is on the wrong side, and the tank is too low. And, yesterday morning I completely forgot how to take a shower. It was truly strange. And breakfast was odd too. The bowl was the wrong size and shape and the cereal box too big. And then I took a bite, using a “normal” sized American spoon, which is much smaller than a “normal” sized Montenegrin spoon, and it was just too much for me. I ate my cereal with a small serving spoon. Then, I washed all the morning dishes by hand on impulse. After breakfast, I unpacked my suitcase and then went for a walk. I was just going to go around the block, but I ended up walking alongside the highway all the way to the Dairy Queen. It wasn’t the same though. I was too tied to the house, and I never got anywhere interesting. Readjusting to life here is going to be interesting. Yesterday, I had an interview for a library page job at the Greensburg library, and then I went to Carla’s house again, which was wonderful, but not nearly enough time, as the Lump (Cory) showed up an hour later. We had pizza, and cake for Cory’s birthday. He’s sixteen!! EEK! (speaking of which, I’m going to be sixteen soon too… ::shiver::) It was so wonderful to see them both again and be with them and hang out with them and talk to them, and randomly hug Carla and make fun of her again and and and…. =) And we went to Barnes and Noble, which was really fun, and I bought a new diary. I was really tired by 9, and it took me a while to realize it was because back in Monte… oh my. I just almost wrote “back home.” Oh boy. Anyway, back in Monte, it would’ve been 3 in the morning. I slept for 11 hours last night. Anyway, I’m home. !!!!!! And as such, “live from Monte” isn’t an appropriate theme for my blog anymore. However, I don’t want to go back to “the Holy Binder,” and I’m otherwise empty of inspiration. So, any suggestions would be greatly welcome. I’m looking forward to seeing all of you again, in church on Sunday or in school on Monday. =D | |||
| May. 31st, 2005 @ 10:23 am Final Monte Post | |||
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Summer is coming. The cold, rainy, drizzly, chilly, windy, generally unpleasant weather of my first month and a half here finally broke a week ago or so, and the sun has come out in full colors. It was downright hot today. It’s really wonderful. With the nice weather, some other things have materialized on the streets of Nikšić. leaving...in my head: Montena Radio...for the last time! CARPET CLEANING. Definitely means something different here. You’re probably thinking of the wet-vac, or of calling up the local guy to come and shampoo your living room floor. Not in dear Nikšić. Here, carpet cleaning means you haul your rugs out onto the sidewalk or the courtyard, get a hose and some soap of some kind, and get down on your hands and knees and scrub it. I’ve seen someone with what looks like a converted wooden rake, using that like a hoe to work in the shampoo. It seems to be some sort of social event too, neighbors or families having a mini carpet-cleaning-bee out in the parking lot. Fun stuff. The mysterious structure down in the courtyard of our apartment complex, which looks like a stripped swing set, has been used not only as a goal for the neighborhood soccer games, but as a drying rack for at least one rug. SHIRTLESS OLD MEN. Gentlemen, like so many slices of bread, have gone from white to toasted in the last few days, shedding their shirts for the usual card games down in the courtyard, or baking alone. I too, will be returning with somewhat lighter hair and darker skin. It’s kind of depressing, really, that the shade I am now is as dark as I’ll get all summer. Oh well. FRESH FRUIT. The green market is overflowing with fresh strawberries and cherries, and the fingers of vendors are stained red with their juices. As Dad noted today, the prices are going down. And, I made the surprising discovery that I like cherries. I always sort of automatically put them into the “foods I’d prefer not to eat” category, but it seems I have been deceived by the over-processed ice cream cherries of America. The fresh cherries here are truly a treat. WEDDINGS. Not an exclusively summer event, but we witnessed our third or fourth wedding procession yesterday, and it was really quite interesting. An accordion accompanied the party, making its celebratory way down the side-street beside Mex Market, and into some other building. The bride’s dress was really pretty, and each member of the groom’s entourage had his own personal bottle of rakija. The rest of the wedding party were dressed in casual attire: capris or jeans and tank tops or tee shirts. It was a really nice day for a wedding. Today is my final full day in Nikšić. I’m going to miss it a lot, and being with Dad, and this whole experience in general. It’s been a wonderful two months. =) | |||
| May. 29th, 2005 @ 06:22 pm Žabljak, Tara Canyon, and Kupac | |||
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Well, we packed today. It was pretty depressing. And, all my flights have changed, so I’m going through customs in Philly, which means I have to somehow lug that monster suitcase (you know, the one that I could smuggle Michael Jordan’s body in?) around the airport and get it through security and everything. Just getting it off the conveyor belt will be a challenge. I think I’m definitely going to invest in one of those rolling cart thingies. drowsyin my head: Montena Radio It’s raining again here, as usual in the afternoons. Go figure, the one day I decide to wear a tank top, the good weather breaks. It’s a nice early-summer rain; the kind that brings out the smell of warming asphalt. I am going to try to finally tell you about Žabljak. It is a town in the northern part of the country which is extremely beautiful, and boasts of Crno Jezero—Black Lake. Peter was insanely kind to take us (in his little 2-door VW—I could go for a car like that). We went straight north (or as straight as you can go on the roads of Montenegro) to Žabljak, had lunch by the lake, and then drove to Tara Canyon, and along it in an easterly-ish direction, coming back by way of Podgorica. You must understand that there was so much new scenery to see, so much to take in, that my brain went into overdrive towards the end of the trip, and simply refused to absorb any more, which is the main reason I haven’t written about it until now—I’ve been giving my brain time to thaw. I’m copying what I wrote about it in my journal, which is basically just snapshots of landscape that are burned in my mind, put together in the order that they happened. So bear with me. Okay, wow, that ended up being longer than I thought it was going to be. Soo... I’m going to make these lj-cuts. If you really want to read more, go right ahead. Basically, it was gorgeous. Everywhere. If you do read all this, bear in mind that double spaces aren’t paragraph breaks, and the next section isn’t necessarily going to be related to the one above. The spaces are just breaks between photos, if you will. ( Žabljak ) ( Tara_Canyon ) In other news, yesterday we went to Kupac, the same lake that we went to the other day with Peter and Amy. It was for the church picnic, and there were about 18 or 20 of us, I think. It was insanely fun, a day of soccer, volleyball, and frisbee. And lunch. Oh my gosh. You wouldn't think 20 people could eat so much food, but we managed it somehow. Every two minutes, somebody was offering us something else to eat, even if we already had three other things in our hands. It was good. I got a lot of pictures of the countryside and of the amazing people I've met here. | |||
| May. 27th, 2005 @ 01:44 pm Premature Nostalgia and an Update | |||
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Only 5 days left. 4 days in Nikšić. I’m going to miss it so much. I mean, it’ll be great to get back to all my friends and family, and to a lifestyle in which stuff actually happens... but without our morning walk and drinks, without walking to the grocery store and lugging home the groceries, something will be missing. I think that with a few small changes, I could be happy to live in Nikšić the rest of my life. I’d be able to travel to all the European places I want to visit with much less hassle. I could keep my American citizenship to be able to enjoy certain legal privileges and protections. I’d have the beautiful countryside of Montenegro a half hour drive away (I’d have to buy a little car, of course), and Podgorica or Belgrade an hour or two away when I wanted a change of pace. I’m making friends quickly, now that I’ve met a few people. All I would need would be a good laptop to take to cafes with me (I could spend the whole day sitting on the korzo with a Nesskafe and a perhaps some ice cream...), and a few select friends to move here with me, and I’d be set. Honestly, you couldn’t ask for a better place for a young budding author. It’s going to feel so isolated, having to get in a car when I want an iced coffee (which I have come to looove, by the way), or to go shopping for anything. The freedom of being able to walk wherever is probably what I’ll miss most. And the amazing landscape, and the comfortable, lazy-life sounds and smells. As I near the end, the introspection to which life here lends itself so readily has turned to all the things about Monte and dear old Nikšić I’ll miss. eyelids are glueyin my head: Andrijana Yesterday, our landlord Najo, and his girlfriend Lidija took us to a few choice sights in Nikšić: the old Roman bridge, another bridge called Carev Most (I think...), and the Turkish fortress which I visited a while ago with Amy and Maša. Lidija speaks a good deal more English than Najo, which made conversation interesting. They were both really wonderful guides, and we had a great hour and 45minutes with them, enjoying the fantastic countryside which is so close to town, and the wonderfully ancient history that only in Europe could be attached to such a modernly dull place. I had just bought two new rolls of film earlier in the afternoon, so I probably took twice as many photos of those three places than I needed to. After seeing the sights, we went to the Hotel Onogošt and had ice cream. It was nice, scooped ice cream, not the quasi-soft serve cones of Venice and so many other places, and it reminded me of ice cream at home. Sigh. Then, later in the evening, we returned to the hotel for a ballroom dance competition—well, that’s what Dad called it, but I don’t think a lot of the dancing done was really “ballroom dancing.” It was interesting. There was one guy who looked something like Johnny Depp, a lot of the Cha-Cha, a dance routine to “The Phantom of the Opera,” and—get this—Cotton-Eye Joe. I flipped when they started to play it. It was awesome! The highlight of the evening, though, was this little kid, two feet high, I swear. Zach could squash him underfoot and never realize it. And he got out on his own in the middle of the floor and started break dancing. It was hysterical and sooo cute. =) Afterwards (you guessed it) we went out for coffee. This time, it was Aleksander, Ranko, Tatjana, and another guy from one of Dad’s classes who I haven’t met before, and whose name I fail to recall. Tatjana and I talked about movies, and she told me about life in Tivat, her hometown, while the guys discussed movies and sports. Tatjana invited me over to her apartment this evening to watch a movie. I think Ivana will be there too, and a guy friend of Tatjana’s, but I’m not sure. So I’m going to miss “Romantic Obsession” again. Wow. I didn’t mean for this to end up being this long. I guess I just needed to vent some stuff. Walking home on my own with the fresh fruit and some CDs we bought, I had this odd drive in my step. Usually when I’m on my own, I walk fairly slowly, lost in thought. This time, though, I moved pretty fast, for Nikšić. In the halls of Hempfield High, it would’ve been a medium speed stride. I’m not sure what I was headed towards, but it felt like I was moving distinctly towards some goal. Ne znam. | |||
| May. 26th, 2005 @ 11:30 am My brain... it oozes.... | |||
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Wow, so much has happened in the last few days! And I haven’t posted anything! You must all forgive me for my slackness. I don’t know how I’m going to manage to tell you about everything. I’ll probably still be posting about it all a week after I get back (only 6 more days!) oozingin my head: Bruse Springstein Well, let me start at the beginning. Saturday night, I had the ultimate European experience: Eurovision. All the European countries enter a song, and then the 24 semifinalists perform their songs at a huge concert (hosted in Kiev, Ukraine this year). Then, everyone across Europe gets ten minutes to call in their votes, and then there is an hour and a half of the 39 participating countries calling in and casting their votes. After 45 minutes of voting had passed and they announced that they were halfway done, I went and took a shower. It was certainly different. Stan described it as bad Euro-pop-disco. Yeah, pretty much. There were some that I thought were really good: the woman from Malta, the Israeli performance, and of course the group No Name from Montenegro. =) The others were all pretty awful. There were the cross dressers in silver spandex from Norway, and the Romanian woman with the grating voice and people stomping on oil drums for the choreography. Greece won with a song that had an iffy tune, and downright stupid lyrics. Of 24 songs, only 7 were sung in the country’s language (including the UK). All the others were in English, and many with distinctly American influence. Like the Danish song, which sounded like some American oldies thing redone for the 20th century. And one song entitled “Las Vegas.” All in all, a unique experience. We went out with the youth group for coffee after church the next morning, and spent the entire walk to the cafe talking about it. About how truly terrible the Norwegians were, and how much better some other singer would’ve looked if he hadn’t been wearing a pink jacket, and how awesome the skirts of the Spanish singers were. Our conversation was aptly punctuated by a car driving by playing “You Are My Number One,” the winning song, on its radio. =) Then, on Monday, I sat in on Dad’s 5 o’clock class, and afterwards, we went out for coffee with half a dozen of his students (coffee is a big social thing here). I ended up talking to two of them in particular, Ivana and Dragan. We talked about family life here, and school, and about Ivana’s many boyfriends, and friends. It was really fun. Afterwards, walking back, I talked to Ivana and her friend Tatjana. I ended up going to Tatjana’s apartment to hang out for a while, and then to Ivana’s dorm room, to see what it was like. It was very interesting. The room has three beds, a desk, and a wardrobe, and is shared by six girls. It was no bigger than my bedroom at home. Peter told us that there are a lot of “ilegalski:” people who bribe the dorm heads to stay there, or just stay there with friends. Anyway, I didn’t actually get back home until 11:30 at night (oops?). Ivana and the others have offered to take me to the park sometime before I leave. Fun stuff. =) On Tuesday, we spent some time in Podgorica—had lunch, bought a new backpack for me. I took some pictures there. That was my last time in Podgorica. Ever. (Well, until I come back, anyway. =) It’s really getting down to it. Today is my last Thursday here. I only have six days left! It’s probably a good thing I’m going home. I’m starting to forget what Pennsylvania looks like... and what a few of my friends look like too. I still need to tell you about our car trip to Žabljak with Peter yesterday. There was so much new scenery, so much to absorb, my brain kind of went into overdrive and froze. I feel like my brain is a giant sponge, and I wring it out every once in a while into some post to you guys back home. I need to let my brain defrost before I’ll be able to write about Žabljak, though. Suffice it for now to say it was AMAZING. And lunch was de-lish. See you all soon! | |||
| May. 24th, 2005 @ 09:16 am Elbow Room | |||
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The attitudes of people here in Montenegro and back in the States are totally different. In the West, people are ruled by laws and regulations ingrained in them from a young age. Here, it’s hard to tell if anything but standard human instincts are ingrained. Children are weaned away from the not-so-watchful eyes of their parents at a young age, and are left to roam the streets in packs, the boys congregating around a soccer ball, and the girls around a Chinese jump-rope (remember those? =). Even when their parents are around, they have significantly more free reign than the leashed and collared youth of America. They stick their hands in fountains, explore dirty corners where broken glass and abandoned bottle caps may lurk, and waltz roughly with unhappy puppies, all without remonstrance. mnehin my head: "Elbow Room" As a society in general, this lack of regulation shows. Instead of the uptight, high-security, worst-case-scenario rules and policies of America, guidelines here are much more practical and lenient. There’s none of our Western nonsense about only putting six items in a shopping bag; whatever fits goes in (and sometimes a good bit more, too). The train stations and airports are refreshingly free of announcements every five minutes warning you to not leave baggage unattended. Security in shops extends no farther than the eyes of the employees, but that doesn’t stop people from leaving other shopping bags, umbrellas, and newspapers on the racks conveniently provided at the entrance to every store. The slicing machine at the Mex Market deli is operated by shamelessly ungloved hands, and used for both meat and cheese with no wipe-down in between. Walking down the korzo, more deviations from the Western tension are literally palpable as people brush by without so much as a backwards glance. Crevices in the crowd that might make even the most lithe of New Yorkers cringe (not that I know any New Yorkers) is no obstacle to Montenegrins. They, unlike their personal space-obsessed Western counterparts, know that if they head for a pack of humans, they will naturally part and make room. Physical contact is not only a part of transportation, but an important factor in communication, as illustrated by an airport taxi driver who explained the rates to my dad by tapping him on the chest, patting him on the shoulder, and stepping closer to make himself better understood to the silly American. The most fascinating and amusing difference between here and there is found in the Euromarket Banka on stock-buying day. Cutting in line, a practice essentially stamped out of American children throughout their schooling, is a perfected art in Nikšić. As I have mentioned before, lines in general are a rarity, and the people here tend to prefer the more natural-looking clump. The yellow tape line on the floor that would effectively hold the typical Westerner at bay makes no dent in the Montenegrin armor of indifference. The more bold of the crowd amble blithely across the line, chatting with the people closest to the window, and leaning against the counter in a deceptively nonchalant manner. No one bats an eye when a complete stranger watches his transaction over his shoulder. When the patron at the window departs, one of the two on his flanks takes his place, having established themselves there previously. These circling bystanders attach themselves like barnacles to a person in line, leaning against the counter, body tense, taking furtive notice of every move of the enemies: other people in line, other circlers, and a bank employee making rounds. This employee is a tall, narrow man with broad shoulders who is the only one making an attempt to keep the lines as such. He taps several people on the shoulder, gesturing them to the back of the queue. Some stay put after one confrontation. Most are not daunted. The greatest perpetrators are middle-aged men with friends in line. After waiting patiently for half an hour or more, and switching lines once, Dad and I finally made it to the window, where I firmly planted myself against the counter, protecting his right flank. It was a veritable war-zone, and we were happy to get out and move on to our morning drinks. The atmosphere all around is relaxed to the point of laziness. Many people don’t have jobs and live with their parents into their thirties. While my fellow Hempfieldites and I have already been through the rigors of career-choosing a number of times, the students my age and older that I have met here haven’t given much thought to their futures. Coming from the everyday stresses of a massive high school and a demanding society, Montenegro has been a pleasantly relaxing change. Those who find joy and security in their constipation would not do well to visit the Balkans. | |||
| May. 22nd, 2005 @ 03:34 pm Inkheart | |||
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I recently finished the book Inkheart, as you may know. It was an interesting book, and I would recommend it to the younger half of the young adult group. It’s an easy read, and a compelling story, as long as you don’t mind sometimes flat characters. And, it is a wonderful shrine to the treasure that is the written word. pfftin my head: radio Mo, a book binder and great lover of books, also has the unique ability to bring stories literally to life with his voice. His greatest achievement in this field was when his daughter, Meggie, was three, and he read Capricorn, Basta, and Dustfinger, three characters from the book Inkheart into existence. Unfortunately, his wife (Meggie’s mother) and two cats were sucked into the book to replace the newly freed characters. And to top it off, Capricorn is the most black-hearted villain ever, and Basta is his top henchman. Dustfinger is a good guy, essentially, but you can never be sure where his loyalties will lie. Capricorn wants to get his hands on every copy of Inkheart left, for reasons unknown to the reader. Dustfinger wants nothing more than to return to his world, where there are fairies, giants, gnomes, and all other manner of wonderful creatures. Mo wants to escape Capricorn, and keep his copy of Inkheart safe from Capricorn, in hopes of reading his wife back out of the book somehow. When warned by Dustfinger that Capricorn is on his tail, Mo flees with twelve-year-old Meggie to the home of Elinor, Meggie’s great-aunt, and another book-lover. This sets the scene for a great adventure that blends the worlds of fantasy and reality in an almost believable way. The excellent story line, however, is overshadowed by the iffy characterization of a few characters, namely Mo and Meggie. While Dustfinger and Elinor have round, complex personalities and continue to be developed throughout the book, the reader never really figures out anything about Meggie and her father. Some cringingly blatant direct characterization is used in the first few chapters, but these few conveniently place lines of dialogue hardly scratch the possibilities that lie within these two. During the main body of the book, this lack of personality doesn’t present a problem, but as we reach the climax, the nicely fitting plot starts to fall apart because nobody has any idea about how the two critically main characters will behave. This may be one reason that the ending is highly unsatisfactory. I won’t give anything away, but the resolution of the story leaves far too many loose ends, and the reader closes the book with a feeling that things just aren’t right. This isn’t a problem generally, but in most books, the dedicated reader at least comes away with a sense that things will soon become right. A subtly repeating theme throughout the book is that there are no real happy endings in life, and things don’t always turn out the way you want them to, and it’s as if the author was trying far too hard to adhere to that philosophy in the ending of her own story. Altogether, the book leaves one distinctly uncomfortable. As a story, it is excellent until the end. As an exercise in characterization, it is beautifully successful with minor characters and disappointingly unsuccessful with major ones. As a tribute to great literature, it is a must-read. | |||
| May. 20th, 2005 @ 05:07 pm la dee da | |||
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Well, I experienced my first earthquake last night. I slept through the whole thing, and there are no gaping holes in the roads this morning, so it's all rather surreal. hungry, as usualin my head: radio Today, we kind of "practice-packed," putting the major stuff in "The Big One," "The Piano Case," the suitcase that I could comfortably travel back to the States in and bring a complete set of the Encyclopedia Britannica with me. Everything looks like it's going to fit fine. Unfortunately, I didn't wear half of the clothes I brought with me. The shorts and lightweight pants, my swimsuit, the tank tops all lie sadly unused. The only problem we might come across is the books. The number of books we brought was significantly less than the number we'll be leaving with. I'm sure we'll manage. I also had my last Serbian lesson with Neda on Wednesday, which adds to the feeling that I'm coming to the end (just 12 days left!). I'm really ready to come home. All I ask is that when I get home, I have plenty of milk, some oreos, and a cat. That will make me happy. =) | |||
| May. 19th, 2005 @ 03:03 pm Cetinje | |||
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Cetinje is lovely, a nice small town of about 14,000 inhabitants somewhere between Podgorica and the coast. It was the capital when Montenegro was a kingdom, and therefore boasts of the royal palace, which we toured while we were there. It took us a good three hours to get there, and despite the fact that we left our apartment at eight, we didn’t get there until 11:30, because of the buses. Frustrating, but it was worth it. Our guides were Lidija, Milica, and Milorad, English students of Nina’s who live there. They were wonderful guides, and knew a lot about the history of their town, and where to take us. Throughout the few hours we spent together, their claim that everyone there knows each other was proved many times over as they waved at and greeted dozens of people we passed. It was a very friendly environment, and talking to the three of them—all law students who went to elementary and high school together—was really nice, and helped make up for the inconvenience of getting there. blahin my head: something montenegrin We went to the monastery there, and looked around the courtyard, but didn’t go inside. There were a lot of tourists there. We also, as I mentioned, toured the royal palace. It was a really small palace. More like a small mansion, really. The furniture and clothing on display inside it was beautiful, though, and the paintings on the walls were very interesting. I love the traditional clothing here, with its Turkish influence. It looks so much more fairytale-like than the old Western European stuff, and some of the gowns of the queen and princesses were just stunning. We also went to the history/art museum of Njegoš, a former ruler of some sort. We actually only went into the art museum (free, thanks to our guides’ persuasive abilities =), and sped past all exhibits but the icon of the Madonna that has a temporary residence there. It was supposedly taken somewhere by John the Baptist. The halo/shoulders of the Virgin were encrusted with diamonds, sapphires, and rubies, and was quite impressive, and very mysterious-looking under the protective blue light, tucked away in its own personal room. The face of the icon was faded almost entirely away, and I had been staring at it for a good five minutes before I realized there was a face there at all. They also took us around to several buildings of note—the former French embassy (now a library), a square with a statue in it, and the royal theater. We walked through an old bazaar/marketplace, and to the pedestrian street, where we had coffee (coke for me) at a cafe. Dad and I also had sandwiches. Then, we parted with our guides, because the girls had a date for lunch with some other friends. Milorad walked with us back to the bus station, where we left around 2:00. Back in Podgorica, it was actually hot, even with a short-sleeved shirt. After the chilly, rainy weather of the last few weeks, all this sun has been a welcome relief. We were back in Nikšić by 4 or so. Today, the sun has been chased away after a few days of spectacular weather, and it was raining so hard a while ago that I could hear it in the apartment, even with another floor above us. | |||
| May. 17th, 2005 @ 10:19 pm pfffft | |||
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We went to Cetinje today. I really don't feel like writing this, so I'll give you the details tomorrow...or sometime. ahhhh!in my head: something musical | |||
| May. 16th, 2005 @ 03:54 pm In Other News... | |||
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>>We got a new computer mouse. The old one was becoming increasingly difficult and annoying. It is truly a pleasure to move the mouse and have the cursor go where you want it to without feeling like you're dragging a ton of bricks. I suggested we set up a shrine to the new mouse, but Dad wasn't too keen on the idea. anxiousin my head: Sinead O'Conner >>We're going to Cetinje tomorrow, home of the black mountain after which Montenegro is named. >>I finished Inkheart yesterday. I intend to write a full review of it sometime... >>I'm starting to slack off on my schoolwork... and I'm having trouble with some new subjunctive rules in Spanish. I still hate pronouns most of all though. | |||
| May. 15th, 2005 @ 05:57 pm Albania | |||
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There is a road. It’s not very big; about the same size as any road in downtown Greensburg. It’s fairly well paved, for Albania, just the occasional pothole and random cracks. It is heavily lined with trees that give ample shade to the whole street, although the cafes and shops set back on the wide sidewalks still have out their awnings. The street is lined on both sides with automobiles, a good number of them squat little pickup trucks that have seen far better days. Of the cars, most of them are Mercedes-Benzes. The edge of the road has been made into a little stream of dirty water from the rain the night before. The road itself is packed with more cars, trucks, minibuses, and the occasional horse-drawn cart. It’s only slightly more crowded than a busy day in downtown Greensburg, except that everything is moving much more slowly, everyone jockeying for a better position, and that means cars pulling out in front of others, or beside others, around others; they’d climb right over one another if they could. So it seems much more crowded and dangerous than it should. herein my head: Gaston The sidewalks are no better. Bicycles and people deftly avoid each other on cracked concrete, while also navigating the wares of a million different vendors. Everything from any manner of plastic ware to bicycles to scarves and clothing to fresh greens can be bought here, in between the little cafes where you can get an espresso and coca-cola for one euro—less than half what it would cost in Nikšić. Clotheslines are strung between streetlamps and hung with clothing for sale. Goods are laid several feet out on the sidewalk, and tables and stands are overflowing with things to buy. Racks of ridiculously brightly patterned clothes jut out onto the sidewalk alongside hasty displays of shoes and plastic planters. The people fall thickly over the whole spectrum. Women walking around in long, dark skirts with red aprons and white scarves tied over their heads push past teenage girls in stiletto heels and midriff-revealing tight shirts. The men are much the same (minus the skirts and midriffs). There is noise everywhere. The grumble of a hundred cars in close proximity, some of which sound like roller-coaster tracks; bare motors running out on the sidewalk; horns honking; people talking; noise and movement and color everywhere, all overshadowed by the trees above and perpetual smoke. It’s like a massive ancient Roman marketplace with cars. This is the brief glimpse of Shkodër I got when we visited there yesterday. Albania is different from anything I’ve ever seen, with its groups of sheep and goats lounging along the side of the road, lying blithely in the sun as cars pass by inches from them and their owners chat about heaven knows what, as Albanian is totally different from any language I’ve gotten a taste of before. That, along with the pockmarked roads (“At least it’s not Bosnia,” Dad remarked optimistically), the children walking along the roadside and selling cherries out of plastic bags, the cows and horses wandering aimlessly down the highway, the calf being roasted whole on the side of the road, all left a lasting impression. If you have a predetermined notion of the Balkans, you probably are seeing a picture of Albania in your head. Barbed wire fences, overgrown lawns with cows and chickens milling about in them, little towns with almost dirt roads and crowded buildings falling into disrepair, people walking down the middle of the street and moving out of the way just in time. About fifty kilometers to the south, it looked much like Montenegro, much more prosperous, but it was astonishing how quickly things changed just after we crossed the border at the crossing just north of Skadar Lake (where we had to pay 2 euros to get the tires of the car washed and 10 euros apiece to enter). It was certainly an interesting experience. Dad rented a car, and we took Nina from Podgorica as far as Shkodër, from which she took a bus to Tirannë. We went around Skadar Lake and returned to Podgorica by way of Ulcinje, a nice Montenegrin coastal town, where we had lunch. Driving back, I got to see a lot of the southern Montenegrin countryside, which is just beautiful. There’s green everywhere, in every imaginable shade, from the dusty silver-green of the olive trees to the deep, rich dark green of the shadowed undergrowth. And all of it, whether scrubby greenery or barren rock, is feather-dusted with purple and yellow blossoms, and splashed with the occasional bright red of a patch of poppies. I even saw some wild yellow and purple orchids. It was really beautiful. Last night, I went to the game night that Amy’s church held. People from outside the congregation were invited as well, so there were eleven of us altogether, including Peter (our leader, the teacher from the UK I mentioned a while ago). It was loads of fun, although I was the only one there without a firm grasp on Serbian. All of them knew English—a good number are students of Peter’s, I think—but there were only three of us who speak English natively (Amy, Peter, and myself, and Amy and Peter have been living here for a while). I think it was meant to be an English night though, and so they spoke English enough of the time that I could understand what was going on, and I was even able to catch some of the Serbian too, which was really cool. Today, we went to the Surbatović’s for lunch. It was wonderful—barbequed pork, three kinds of salad, and domaćki hleb (homemade bread). And then, we stayed and talked for quite a while. We showed up around 1:30, and didn’t leave until 4:30. It was really nice. And, amusingly enough and not because of any discomfort, the three men (Dad, Stan, and Peter) ended up sitting on the living room furniture and talking, while Amy and her mother and I sat around the dining room table and chatted about school, vacation bible school, church youth groups, and movies. It was really lovely, and Amy has invited me to a girls’ sleepover movie night she’s having after her parents go back to the States for her older sister’s graduation. Fun stuff! =) | |||
| May. 12th, 2005 @ 09:37 pm Ostrog | |||
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I haven’t written much lately because there hasn’t been much to write. Life has pretty much gone back to normal since we returned from Ljubljana. I have begun reading I, Robot, although that has been largely abandoned the last few days to make way for Inkheart. i hate fruit fliesin my head: Leonard Cohen Yesterday morning, we went to the Ostrog monastery. It turned out to be a much shorter trip than either of us had anticipated, I believe. We took a bus to a rather lonely-looking intersection in the road, and from there took a taxi up to the lower monastery, a ride along perilous, steep slopes of about fifteen minutes. On our way up, we passed a number of what looked like hot dog stands, selling religious trinkets. The lower monastery seemed to be a small town built around a church. We didn’t stay there long, but soon began a healthy hike which was slightly reminiscent of the horror-hike in Kotor up to the other monastery. There was a paved road here, however, that wove back and forth up the sheer mountainside. All around us was rock, overgrown with trees whose bark was darkened by moss damp from the intermittent showers, and looked like great, hairy, dark tentacles suspended in mid-undulation shooting up from the ground in a mysterious tangle. There was also undergrowth of tufted grass and clumps of wildflowers, patches of yellow, blue, white, and pink brightening the overcast day. We passed several small groups of pilgrims making the hike barefoot, and lugging backpacks and grocery bags of offerings with them along the way. The hike was enjoyable in that we got to see some of the wild landscape for which Europe is famous. I was rather out of shape, however, and found myself somewhat out of breath when we finally reached the top, although not nearly as badly as in Kotor. At the larger, more accessible part of the monastery, somewhat below the probably older church, there was another shop selling religious things and postcards, as Ostrog is one of Nikšić’s few tourist attractions. The courtyard was scattered with people putting their shoes back on after their barefoot pilgrimage and women walking around with flimsy skirts tied over their pants. We stood on a small terrace and looked out over the valley, where we could see a little chapel we had passed on the way up, looking dwarfed by our immense altitude. Dad took a few pictures, and then we were proceeded to the monastery. The monastery itself was small and unimposing, its only distinctive feature being that it was built right into the side of the mountain, largely carved straight from the stone. We went through a low stone gateway and then a metal door decorated with ancient designs and made our way along a short, open-roofed passageway to a small niche in the wall, where people left their offerings with ritual crossing and bowing. Beyond this was a very low doorway leading into an anteroom with a bench and window on the right wall facing out over the valley far below. The bench was occupied by several women, but there was more to come. At the other end of this room, which was only about four paces long, was another, even lower doorway, which led into a room that can only be described as tomb-like. A tiny window in the left wall and several candles lit crumbling paintings on the cave-like walls. The room was hardly bigger than the ante-room before, and it was filled with the sickly scent of incense and people coming to leave offerings with the remains of the saint. It was very quieting, as if I were passing through some portal where I had no right to be. Dad and I left quickly. As we made our way back down the mountain, the view was magnificent. Dozens of meters below me, great clouds swirled like icing stirred in the massive green bowl of the valley, frothing like stormy waves in slow motion. Above them, the mountains veiled in mist far in the distance melted into the opaque, pearly gray sky. Our progress down was much faster, as we used recently-mortared stone steps between the bends of the road as shortcuts. My knees trembled with the strain as we progressed downward, and I slipped once or twice on the wet rocks of the path. When we made it back down, we quickly found a taxi, a beat-up Mercedes-Benz van that looked and sounded as if it would fall into a million pieces at any minute. That took us back to the main road, and another taxi driver returned us to Nikšić for only a euro more than it would have cost to wait for a bus. All in all, it took about three hours. It was a very refreshing and exhilarating little trip. | |||
| May. 5th, 2005 @ 01:50 pm Part Two: Slovenia | |||
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So, we took the train back to Ljubljana (no compartments this time), and found the Ljubljana Resort, where we spent a few nights. On our only full day in Slovenia with Esther, we went to the Lipica stud farm, where we toured the farm and saw some of the Lipizzaner Stallions. They were lovely. The whole thing was very nice and pleasant and fun. happy to be homein my head: Monte music That night, we met Tracey and June at their amazing hotel, and had dinner. Back in their room, we had an unexpected but wonderful opportunity to call home, as they had unlimited free long distance and internet access. That was so cool. =) We spent several hours with them, and then returned to our hotel. We got up early the next morning and took Esther to the airport to meet Tracey and June, and saw her off around seven. Dad and I went back to the hotel for breakfast, then drove up to Lake Bled, which is the big tourist attraction of Slovenia. It was amazing. It was so quiet and peaceful, and the water looked like soft, shiny fabric. In the middle of the lake is a small island with a lovely little church on it. It was so beautiful. We walked the whole way around the lake and just talked, which was really nice and relaxing after so much heavy-duty traveling. The countryside of Slovenia is beautiful. The mountains and flat valleys, and trees and greenery, everything is just so perfect, but in a very real way. It’s not like some impossible fairy-tale. And there are dandelions EVERYWHERE. There are massive herds of dandelions. If Christians are the salt of the earth, dandelions are the salt of Slovenia. It makes everything look so bright and welcoming and soft and fuzzy. And Ljubljana is wonderful. Of all the cities I’ve visited, if I had to choose one in this area to live in, I would choose Ljubljana. I’m not sure why it appeals to me so much, but it’s superb. The centerpiece of the pedestrian area is the famed triple bridge, which is simple but nice. On one side of the bridge is a wonderful square, not too big and not too small, walled on one side by “the pink church,” and graced with a statue of some famous poet with a muse sitting above him holding a dove. Along the pedestrian streets on either side of the river are little stands selling jewelry and buttons and such to tourists. There are little niches with cafes that lead to narrow, crooked streets that come out onto larger streets with little shops and stores. It’s all very compact and nice, and feels like there’s always some little nook waiting for you to explore. I really loved it. The next morning, Dad and I left for the airport and had a truly boring day, sitting around for three and a half hours, because we had to get there early to return the rental car. It wasn’t too bad, as I was rather numb for various reasons. We finally got onto the plane and left. You’ve gotta love planes so small that every time the wheels go up or down, the entire thing shakes. I’ve been on three or four of that type now, and I can’t help thinking about what the percentage of planes that crash is. One in 100? 1000? When will the numbers stop being in my favor? Will I start having to live every plane ride in fear that it’ll crash? And if I don’t ride on a plane for five years or so, do my stats get “reset” or something? I shall have to talk to some statistician about that... =) In Podgorica, we had to take a taxi, because since we weren’t arriving from Belgrade, we were officially lesser passengers and were not privileged with a bus back. A taxi to the regular bus station was 20 euros, so we just went with 50 euros to be taken the whole way back to Niksic. We certainly felt the return to the Balkans. It’s nice to be back in familiar territory, though. Niksic has changed so much in just a week! The weather was really quite pleasant today, and all the trees have begun to green. Najo, our landlord, moved all of the myriad potted plants that were throughout the apartment onto the balcony. The apartment feels rather empty now. It was quite amusing earlier today, with our dozens of socks out on the line to dry, the product of a mad laundry rush. It really feels good to be home. I do believe, though, that I am starting to experience homesickness for the first time. Last Sunday was my halfway point. I can't believe that I've been here for over a month already! 27 more days... =) | |||
| May. 4th, 2005 @ 09:25 pm Part One: Venice | |||
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Ok, hi guys! I’m finally back in Niksic. The trip was amazing, but it was very tiring, for both me and Dad. I think the fact that it’s a big trip within an enormous trip kind of wore us down. Whatever the case, I’m happy to be back. cheerfulin my head: not a clue We flew to Ljubljana last Wednesday, and met up with Tracey and her mom, June, who escorted Esther, as well as the little princess herself. =) I was so happy to see Esther, and I spent the whole time chattering away. The next day, we went up to the fortress and looked around. It was pretty cool. We took the train to Venice that afternoon. The train ride was so much fun. I love riding on trains. It had compartments and there was a guy walking around pushing a snack trolley, just like in Harry Potter! =) Venice was wonderful. We visited the Basilica of St. Mark, which was extremely ornate and beautiful. In Rialto, we walked around through the masses of other tourists and little shops and stands selling all kinds of beautiful things. Esther bought a hand-made cat mask and a fan, and I bought a pretty scarf and a wonderful pair of glass earrings. We wandered the narrow streets of Venice, winding our way through narrow alleys no wider than my kitchen at home, over bridges, through tiny squares, and past little shops tucked away from the massive bustle, with elegant gowns from the Renaissance and hundreds of elaborate, beautiful masks of all shapes and sizes and colors (and prices!). It was awesome. And to traverse longer distances, we took the vaporetti, the water buses. For a day or two after leaving Venice, all three of us still felt the rocking from riding them so often. We saw gondolas and all kinds of other boats in the water, and riding up and down the Grand Canal, we passed dozens of old palaces, stone steps leading straight from the Turkish-looking doorways to the water. Tall posts, painted with stripes or plain colors, or left unpainted lined wooden docks, awaiting the return of whatever boat berthed there. And looking over all of it were lovely, small balconies with curling iron railings and stately, arched lamps hanging over the streets to humbly light the city. The second day we were there, we visited the Doge’s palace, with all of its massive, echoing paneled assembly rooms where I could hear Rhea’s voice echoing. The dungeons were extensive, cool, and smelled of water. And the courtyard outside, with its arches stretching out over yards and yards and the facade of some other building, was quite impressive. We also went to a church where there was a fascinating exhibit of some of Leonardo da Vinci ’s inventions. And, the Peggy Guggenheim collection of modern/abstract art, which I found wonderful and amazing and which Esther thoroughly disliked. We also visited the Accademia, which housed dozens of religious paintings by second-rate Italian artists, which weren’t all that captivating. Our hotel was lovely. We stayed on Lido, a thin little island that separates “mainland” Venice from some body of water (can’t remember what). The room was awesome, and had a cool little loft where Esther and I slept. And the view. It was incredible, I took pictures, don’t worry. But I wish all of you could have seen it. It was so wonderful. Throughout the whole trip, I kept saying over and over, “We’re in Venice!” It started getting on Esther’s nerves after a while. =) We spent our third day there just walking around Lido and talking, which was nice. Then, we took a train back to Ljubljana in the afternoon. I’ll stop there for today, and give you part two: Slovenia tomorrow! I’m missing all of you guys so much, and I hope you’re all doing well! Xoxoxox--Ruth Oh, and by the way, the weather was absolutely FANTASTIC!!!! =) | |||
