After so much rain and gloominess, we finally got to enjoy a day in the sun. Well, this one ended in rain too, but at least we made it to the top of the cliff first. This cliff being the so-called "hawks' cliff", a rock formation I spent my entire childhood under, behind or near, but I had never actually climbed.
Until this day, when I added another dizzyingly high peak (about 800m) to my portfolio:
I don't think I'll ever get tired of this view:
After conquering this difficult peak, which took a total of about an hour, we collapsed by the side of the river, fried, ate, lay in the sun and chatted for the rest of the day. Just like the good old times.
In other news today...the garden smells like honeysuckle, I have to sleep with the windows open at night, I've finished torturing my students with exams, the cherry tree across the road is teasing me with its load of deep red yumminess... Yup, I think it's summer...
(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth day of life and of love and wings:
and of the gay
great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing
breathing any--lifted from the no
of all nothing--human merely being
doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
i thank You God for most this amazing day:for the leaping greenly spirits of trees and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything which is natural which is infinite which is yes
(i who have died am alive again today, and this is the sun's birthday; this is the birth day of life and of love and wings: and of the gay great happening illimitably earth)
how should tasting touching hearing seeing breathing any--lifted from the no of all nothing--human merely being doubt unimaginable You?
(now the ears of my ears awake and now the eyes of my eyes are opened)
As nature is slowly reborn, so did my blog start breathing again. Taking advantage of a much-awaited Easter break, we took to the hills in search of signs of spring.
Unfortunately, we haven't had truly nice weather since...oh, I don't know, August lat year? Ever since then, it has been either snowy or rainy or bitterly cold or gloomy or all at once. Yesterday was no different, but we decided to brave the rain come what may. What do you know, we survived :)
I remember this time last year it was already warm enough to lie on the grass, but at the moment the hills still look asleep:
However, we did find some of the signs of spring we had been looking for:
The discoveries even included some bugs I had never seen the likes of in my life. As the experienced entomologist that I am, I proceeded to categorise and name them. Thus, I give you discovery no.1, the brass bug:
Given the activity I caught this one in the middle of, it should have been called a bonkbug, but I thought that didn't sound too scientific. So I settled for "gunmetal bug". Yes, its colour was just like in the picture:
The rest of the day was all buds, rain and ravens (the latter not pictured, the former very much photographed).
Yes, I think we're onto something here: a very mild case of spring, albeit with a risk of full eruption and serious contagiousness in the near future.
This is a post meant to awe and shock NZers. I would normally have a strong and negative emotional reaction to all the cold whiteness presented below, but all my energy is currently being taken up by my chattering teeth and shivering muscles.
We have had the heaviest winter in many, many years. I haven't seen so much snow since my childhood! Which would be a good thing, except the stuff just won't stop falling from the sky and I have to shovel it four times a day. And the nostril-sticking cold ranging between -22 and -8 C is a wonderful bonus. Oh, and, do you remember my frozen lock? It's now a daily occurrence.
However, winter seemed bearable (and almost pretty, but don't tell them I cracked!) last Saturday, when I and some friends went for a walk on the river. And I mean on the river. It's frozen solid.
So solid, in fact, that some people were driving their cars on the ice. Others, less adventurous, were playing hockey or skiing. We had planned to walk until the ice gave way to water, but after 3 hours, there was no sign of that happening. Wise as we are, we realised it would probably take us the same amount of time to walk back home, so we turned back.
We saw a lot of animals on the way (foxes, pheasants, heaps of deer), as well as animal tracks. This might have been a very cold bunny:
You have to appreciate the care deer put in respecting each others' personal space. Everybody gets the exact same amount:
When I was back in the relative comfort of my relatively warm house, I thought of you guys again. You might never know the sheer, unadulterated bliss of being able to fold your hands around a cup of mulled wine after an entire day in the snow. But that's okay; you have the ocean. And feijoas. And that more than makes up for it.
As the weather gets ever gloomier and nothing terribly exciting goes on in my life of late, I find myself daydreaming of last summer. And as all films (films of memories included) should have appropriate soundtracks , I tried to imagine what soundtrack my last summer would have had. That got me thinking of all the music, new or familiar, that I got to experience this past year. Hence this retrospective post.
So, what would the soundtrack of 2011 be?
Well, my birthdays are always medieval, so the soundtrack of my 30th birthday would have to be Holloenek, newly discovered medieval band from Hungary. They were fun just like that day was fun.
Soon it was August and it was time for the Artmania festival in Sibiu: 3 days a year of pure artistic, architectural, gastronomic and, of course, musical bliss. And oh, what a city!
In the morning, I had my breakfast in the courtyard of this
to the tune of Lacuna Coil's sound check, and in the evening I blew bubbles with Morti under the obscure light of this,
to the tune of our own laughter (just like back then...) and at night I experienced the much expected annual catharsis, under the shadow of this,
while, on stage, Tony Kakko did his power (metal) walk,
Tarja Turunen did exactly what was expected of her (namely, to blow everybody's minds),
and Lacuna Coil left me breathless with unexpected awe:
But Sibiu had other artistic surprises in store for me, too. A tattoo festival was taking place at the same time with Artmania, and the special guest there was this delicate, beautiful, incredibly expressive Japanese dancer, whose traditional dance left quite an impression in my memory.
But the summer progressed, and there was no time to waste. The Peninsula festival, in our very own Tg Mures, brought Guano Apes, which I will remember as being utterly forgettable,
and the Hungarians from Tankcsapda, whose lyrics I do not understand, but who were so much more fun to watch and listen to:
I usually don't need much of an excuse to visit Sibiu, but at the end of August, it had a damn good reason to call me again. The medieval festival was a bland, dusty, badly organised affair, which made me waste a whole day in the scorching sun, without offering anything interesting to do or see. But they brought Corvus Corax in the evening, and that made it all worth the sunburn. I didn't know much about them, but that night, I left as a die-hard fan. The self-proclaimed kings of medieval music really lived up to their title.
I could go on for another couple of pages telling
you why I think Corvus Corax are so epic, but I'll just go on to what
was the highlight of 2011 for me. Finally, after years of yearning
and bad timing and failed attempts, finally, in November, I got to
see Amorphis. With all the excitement, I forgot to charge the
batteries in my camera, so all I have as proof of a great concert is
this:
In conclusion, the winners of the Soundtrack for
2011 award? It would have to be a tie between Amorphis, for their
emotional significance in my life, and Corvus Corax, for their sheer
newly discovered awesomeness. As such, feel free to pick the one you
prefer:
