The past two weeks, even though they have flown by, come across in time span rather like two months.
We have been packing, we have been moving, we have been unpacking for days on ends, discarding and purchasing, putting things in place and decorating - until we were simply too exhausted to even breathe.
Then, just when we thought we were done, another kind of packing was set in place.
Before we even got the chance to enjoy our new home, we set out on a sixteen hour drive south, in order to savor the beauty of the majestic mountain range of central Europe, frolicking in sunshine and snow. Our skiing vacation, planned last summer, did not coincide very well with out move - but I guess the best in life is unplanned.
The beauty of the European Alps is breathless and the time we get to spend gazing at the snow covered mountain peaks, priceless.
And yet, once it is time to say our good byes, we will not feel sadness leaving all this splendor behind. Rather we will with joy look forward to return to our brand new home.
All images taken in the Italian Alps, February 2013.
This is where I am right now, surrounded by the deep colours of azure and alabaster. This thus explains the lack of my posts and visits, for which I apologize.
I am simply just savoring the pristine and snowy slopes, fairytale surroundings and everything else that is part of a great skiing vacation, all in a perfect company.
Will be back soon.:)
As we slowly move towards mid February, the sensation of winter's finale becomes slightly more obvious.
The allure of the Ice Lady is slowly fading, yet we all know too well that her reign isn't ending just yet.
At the commencement of this second month, my entire being becomes slowly infused with a certain longing. A longing that only intensifies in strength by each passing week. It makes me daydream and my perception travels to warmer latitudes, where the tropics rule. Where hot sun is on the menu and the warm sand and the clear sea - in all the shades of green and blue - is the place to be.
To all of you who too feel the onset of mild winter blues and long for some sun and sea, I dedicate the collage below.
It is compiled of photographs depicting the stunning shores I have visited in my life - some were rocky, some were sandy. Some are in the Mediterranean, some in the Caribbean or the Atlantic Ocean. Even the North Sea can surprise us at times with its seemingly tropical beauty. Sometimes the seas were dark blue, at times green or turquoise - but they all had one thing in common - they lifted my spirits and soothed my soul.
Music is very important to me.
In fact, it is highly essential and compliments my daily life in the most vital way. I listen to music every day, the whole day.
I turn on the radio in the morning as soon as I walk out of the bedroom, I listen to the radio while I drive to and from work. In the lab, music can be heard in the background the entire day and as soon I come home in the evening, I put on one of my favorite CDs.
There has been many songs in my life that have captured my senses, due to the rhythm, the enticing harmonies or the poetic lyrics. Today my memory holds a collection of various melodies, which have stayed with me for one reason or another. As soon as I hear the first familiar tunes, in a split second I am taken back in time, recollecting particular moments of my past and the people in it, while my being is infused with bittersweet contemplation.
Just The Way You Are by Billy Joel is one such song, which brings smile to my face and amusement to my mind. Hearing it on one of the radio stations the other day, my mind traveled back twenty years, taking a sentimental walk down the memory lane.
I was twenty two, going on twenty three, celebrating New Years Eve in the company of a dear friend on the Island of Furteventura, one of the Spanish Canary Islands located in the Atlantic Ocean, off the coast of Africa. We were two young girls who decided to escape the cold winter of Scandinavia, spending two weeks in warmer latitudes, as the year crossed into a new decade. Little did I know then, that this would be such a life changing trip for my best friend and in turn for me as well.
It was more than two decades ago, yet still today I remember the trip vividly. Particularly the excitement when we realized we were assigned to a studio apartment with a large terrace and a magnificent view of the ocean and the stunning sunsets, which would take place every single evening above its turquoise blue waters.
Furteventura, at least the part where we stayed, was unusually pristine, rugged and unexploited. There were very few hotels and all one was left with was unspoiled beauty. With that said though, some of the hotels directly on the beach were luxurious. Particularly the German ones, which were part of a type of Club Med vacation resorts, a term that was quiet unknown to two young girls, who traveled and stayed on a budged.
A few days into the new year, my stunning friend, a true Scandinavian beauty, a cool blond and very sophisticated young woman, caught the eye of a man in his early thirties, walking along the beach one day. After the polite introductions we realized he was German and involved with television entertainment. Within a short while, we were both invited into his hotel later that evening for dinner. I guess I was mostly invited as a chaperon, or as I later realized, a date for the traveling companion of our new acquaintance.
The evening came and when we crossed through the gates to the hotel, it felt as we entered paradise. We were greeted by opulence and beauty, not just in landscaping and architecture, but also in the entertainment and amenities. And the dinner to which we were secretly smuggled into, consisted of a rich buffet, where the tables were literally breaking under the weight of the food offered. Anything from meat to exotic fish, grilled, cooked, baked or fried, fruit and vegetables, some that I have never seen before or since and deserts that even today make my mouth water.
The evening progressed and my friend and her new suitor disappeared at one point, while I was left with his companion. An old man in my eyes then, but my age today. Many years later I often contemplated with amusement what he must have thought off me, a young girl who could have very well been his daughter. A playboy at the best and apparently a photographer by profession, he was tall and striking, with long blond hair, wearing a hat and cowboy boots, his face weathered by the elements, but very distinguished and his manners sophisticated. And he was a perfect gentleman the whole evening, while we walked around the hotel premises, trying to communicate in a broken German and poor English.
Our walk and the innocent, but memorable evening finally ended in the hotel's bar on the other side of midnight, where he bought me a glass of my first good wine. Even today I recall the odd and long looks of all the mature women present in the intimately lit, smoke filled room. Many of them looked lonely and what I perceived desperate, something unknown to me in my youth. I felt terribly out of place and surprised over this scrutiny then, as the man I was with held no interest of mine. Today I know better, as time has caught up with me as well...
All this became strongly etched in my memory, an odd moment frozen in time while the bars piano man played Just The Way You Are softly in the background.
He played many more songs that night, but this one stuck with me for eternity.
Eventually our lovely vacation came to an end and as we boarded the plane, my friend knew she was in love. She found a soul mate, even though the infatuation came to be short lived. After our return home, she packed her bags and left to be with her love in Germany, where she stayed for many years to come, long after the relationship ended. Even though we are still in touch today, I lost my very best friend on that island and no more than a couple of years later, I left Sweden too, for good. I guess in some way her departure was a catalyst to my own.
What is even more fascinating about this story is the fact that today, the man she left her family and friends for is a famous television commentator and a talk show host, with his own very popular talk show, interviewing prominent guests on German television.
I wonder to this day if fond memories of Furteventura ever cross his mind - or that of his friend. After all, when translated, the name of the island means something like "Grand Adventure".
And it sure was one indeed.
Authors Note: To those of you who read this to the end; I humbly thank you for your patience and effort in making your way through a very long post - and I dedicate this beautiful compilation below to all of you. It is a classic and a beauty, both in harmonies and lyrics.
My last post on the theme of Switzerland will include my recollection of our visit in pictures mainly.
In my opinion, the prevailing appeal of this landlocked country lies not just in its multilayered prosperity and aesthetic beauty, but also in in it's enormous diversity. Roughly, the North is Germanic, the West is French, the South is Italian and the East is Romansh; thus Switzerland acknowledges four national languages. This diversity is reflected not just in the population, but also in the appearance and attitude.
Traveling across the country is like traveling across a wast part of Europe, but somehow fitted into a narrow space. Within hours, moving either by highway or by train tracks, one can pass from one zone into the other with ease and efficiency, compliments of a well established and modern infrastructure.
The transition is smooth and tranquil, yet very distinctive, as one can very much sense when the internal borders are crossed. Signs appear in a different language, the architecture changes and even the weather; going from snow covered peaks to warm shores of lakes. Not to mention the scenery; anything from rolling hills, lake districts lined by palm trees, castles, meadows, mountains with rich forests and animal life, pristine villages, sleepy towns and international metropolis, bustling with life.
I dedicate this post to my sister and her family for making our stay an unforgettable one. The days we spend together will enter my recollection as one of the unforgettable moments of my life, due to the company that surrounded me, etching it forever into my memory as such.
My sister would probably disagree with amusement, but in my opinion; she indeed lives in a real Château. But let me start at the beginning.
As I have mentioned many times in the past; I am a nervous flier. Actually, I have been a non flier for the past six years. The reasons to my phobia are too illogical and too uninteresting to discuss here, but they are nevertheless very real to me. Over time though, I slowly began entertaining the thought of boarding a plane again and recently decided to try to conquer my fear of flying.
Thus, a few weeks ago I found myself at an airport, a place that used to haunt my dreams. After consuming a few drinks that helped me to loose a bit of that control I so indefinitely crave, I boarded (and survived) two flights that took me to Switzerland to see my sister and her family. I did almost crushed the hand of my companion at starts and landings, but eventually I made it through the flights. And what is even more amazing, I might consider to fly again.
My younger sister met and married a French-Swiss gentleman and today they reside in his hometown by Lake Geneva, or Lac Léman, as it is correctly called. The family, including three children, live in a tranquil Château, which used to house a line of family of a distant relative to my brother in law. My sister and her husband consider it only a big house, but to me it looks like a Château indeed, complete with towers, attic and maybe even a haunted cellar.
It is in any case a beautiful mansion, set in a park like garden with stunning views of the French Alps, surrounded by wine yards and meadows. Our room was situated on the top floor with breathtaking outlook across the lake over the mountains and the famous town of Évian, whose lights flickered reflecting in the water in the evenings. Every morning as I woke up to the sound of water fountain and cow bells (belonging to cows that would graze on the nearby meadows), I had to pinch myself to make sure I was indeed still not dreaming.
My sister, without a doubt, lives in one of the most beautiful parts of Europe. I enjoyed every second being in her company and that of her family. When we all sat at the dinner table I felt happiness to the extend I can not describe in words, as I was surrounded by people that mean so much to me. All in a beautiful setting, with a sensation of peace and security.
There is nothing stronger than a family bond. I have never appreciated my entire family more than I do now, when I get to see them once a year at the best. Still, not even the distance - geographical or in time - can erase the bond of blood, that is so very palpable when we are apart. And even more when we are together.
Those two are necessary in order for us to lead healthy, content lives. They are two distinctive terms, but are somewhat intertwined as love is such a universal term and can not exist without friendship. Or the other way around. Our need to be in the company of people that love us and care for us deeply is just as vital as food, water and the air we breathe.
Just the other day I read about the importance of not feeling lonely or alone. In fact, if we do not choose loneliness voluntarily, the impact of it can be as destructive to our overall health as smoking 15 cigarettes a day, shortening our life span by decades. In the modern western world, where a large fraction of the population lives alone, loneliness is becoming ever so palpable problem in our society.
The people that love me are spread all over Europe and at times I indeed feel alone. What I would not give to be able to meet them on daily bases, instead of being confined to mails, postcards, letters and online communication. Solitude, although a welcomed friend, can nevertheless feel impeding occasionally.
However, even though I miss true friendship constantly, the world of blogging has managed to fill in this lack of daily companionship. All of you that stop by here regularly have become my very good friends. I have never met you in person, but your candid concern, your interest in me and your attention and kindness has given rise to numerous friendships, so genuine and lovely that they can be easily compared to friendships one would strike in real life. And for that I am thankful to all of you.
On the same note l would like to share with you the joy that I felt over a small package that arrived on my doorstep the other day. My lovely blog friend Claudia, the most kind and generous girl that lives on the opposite side of the globe in Guatemala, took the time and effort to send me a birthday gift. I lack words to describe the surprise when the postman brought me this unexpected package. Carefully packed in an embroidered pouch I found a handmade necklace, one that made my heart skip a beat. Thank you dear Claudia - thank you for reinforcing my belief in the goodness of people. You are a treasure dear friend.
Finally I would like to wish you all a splendid August as I am looking forward to enjoy some weeks away from the online life, traveling and experiencing adventures with those I love. These are my moments of happiness and I intend to savor them fully, as they are always so very fleeting and so elusive in my life.
And perhaps, this is what happiness is in life itself - elusive and fleeting moments...
After almost three weeks of absence, I am returning with a short writing interlude. My intentions were to stay away completely until the end of this month and even perhaps longer, as I am about to do some traveling in August and I am still to welcome some more family visits in my white house on the hill. But I simply miss blogging.
Even though I relished in being blog free initially - forgetting about posting completely - this past weekend my longing to write has returned. Almost everywhere I go, I compose posts in my mind and I take mental photographs of everything I see and experience around me. I miss writing this online diary and therefore, even though for only a short while, I am back. Forgive me though if it will take me some time to catch up with all of you, however I intend to do my very best in that department.
I have had the privilege to spend some of these past three weeks in the company of a lovely visitor and my favorite gentleman; Mr. Summer, which has been bestowing upon us hot and sunny weather, a true recipe for happiness.
When I have visitors, I turn into a tourist myself, traveling around in my immediate vicinity, discovering hidden spots of beauty and history, not far away from my own doorstep. Combined with gorgeous weather and splendid company, time always seems to fly way too fast...
They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream.
Ernest Dowson
Summer - in my vision always arriving as a flamboyant knight - finally regained seasonal reign over the cold North, taking the throne with all the splendor of colours and light, sunshine and fragrance.
The golden time of the year has begun; it will be fleeting and evasive at best, teasing us with few magnificent days of sun and blue skies, only to bestow upon us rain and cold as soon as we let our guard down. Still, these are the days of the elusive summer, which has been anticipated and sought after, like never before. It will compel nature to grow lush and lavish and the air to become saturated with the fragrance of honeysuckle and jasmine.
I intend to spend the next few weeks in the company of the extravagant gentleman Summer and hopefully some lovely visitors as well. Thus I am taking a break and will return again sometimes later in July.
My days of wine and roses are here. And they are not long...
Crossing the solstice, we have entered the season of plenty. The Scandinavian summers however are short and the weather very unstable. Even yesterday, which was forecast to be sunny and warm by meteorologists, turned out to be more or less a cloudy and dull affair.
I love summers endlessly though and I have always done so. Being a true summer child, I was born in July and I worship this season passionately. So full of colour and light, it is additionally abundant with scents and tastes as well.
We all know the wonderful property of our senses and the way they are connected to our recollection. How a sound, a fragrance or that particular tingling of our palate can bring back moments in time, so easily and with such an elegance. I have collected here ten such significant catalysts of wide range of perceptions, which speak summer to me like nothing else can.
The Sound Of Cicadas. I grew up in family of sun worshipers and almost as far back as I can remember, we used to travel south to the Mediterranean for summer vacations. The sounds of Cicadas equals summer to me, as these little critters are not native to Central nor Northern Europe. Thus their exotic song brings the feeling of summer to my senses in its purest form possible.
Fireflies. Fireflies were the sign of summer while I lived in North Carolina. I will never forget those humid, hot nights, full of sounds of crickets and insects and full of these small specks of light, adding an enchanting feeling to the hot summers of the southeast.
Coconut Fragrance And Taste. As a fragrance in sunscreens, shower gels and shampoos and as a taste in exotic drinks, nothing speaks of tropics more loudly than the coconut.
The Feel Of A Warm Sand. The feel of hot sand of the beach between my toes and between my fingers, sticking to my blanket and to my skin, oiled in tanning lotion, while I listen to the gentle surf, watching the endless blue of the sea... Only in summer.
The Song Of Swallows. The flight and the song of swallows as the day is closing to its end, brings back the summers of my childhood like nothing else can. Almost in instant I am transported back to the Czech country side, where I spent every single summer until I was thirteen.
Scent Of Melted Asphalt. That scent takes me back to Czech country side too, decades in time, in a split second. I recall walking barefoot on a small country road, after spending an hour or two swimming in the local river during lazy summer days. The hot asphalt would almost give in under my feet, as I was leaving footprints behind, having fun trying to burst the small bubbles, which would form on the melting surface, while its particular scent hung in the hot air.
Scent (and Taste) Of Barbecue. Moving forward in time, barbecue reminds me of the Scandinavian summers and always will. As soon as the first sun rays warm the cold North, the scent of grilling is everywhere. The Scandinavians worship the elusive sun and move their cooking outside during the white nights.
White Nights. I have described what they mean to me in such a detail before, thus any more words feel obsolete. I can only add that the midnight sun was the only summer sign I dearly missed while I lived in North Carolina.
Taste Of Strawberries Warmed By The Sun. My first real summer job as a teenager involved picking of strawberries. There is nothing that literally screams summer more loudly to me, then the sweet taste of the red berry, picked during a hot, sunny day. The Scandinavian strawberries are renowned for their superb quality and are exported all over Europe. A celebration of the Midsummer is never complete without a strawberry cake, made with freshly picked berries.
Scent Of Fresh Cut Grass. The ultimate sign of summer, that stretches back in time and encompasses both my childhood and adulthood. Endlessly soothing, like a blanket of comfort, when the fragrance of cut grass spreads through the air, it instigates security and happiness. It brings back the meadows of my childhood as well as the city parks and the country side of my teenage years. And even today, this scent defines summer just outside the windows of my white house on a hill like nothing else can. A universal sign of summer in every corner of the world that harbours the four seasons; as soon as the grass grows again, summer has begun.
A while ago I was tagged in a Photo Meme by the very lovely sprinkles. I am suppose to find my first picture folder and list the tenth picture and the story behind it. Anyone who feels like doing this meme, please be my guests.
I looked up the first picture folder on my stationary computer in my study. That folder, titled Brazil 2004 contained pictures from my trip to Brazil in 2004.
In November 2004 I took part in a scientific meeting held in Angra dos Reis in southeast Brazil. The meeting was taking place on a secluded resort in the middle of a rain forest, on a coast surrounded by small island. Beside scientific work, there was truly enough time for leisure as well. The door of my room opened directly onto a sandy beach and those 3 days that the weather was actually sunny, offered some incredibly beautiful and relaxing moments on a tranquil and serene sandy shore. The picture below - which was the tenth picture in that folder - was taken on a day like that, a few steps outside my room.
It was an absolute paradise for any biologist, as the rain forest nearby was filled with exotic plants and animals that I have never seen before, nor will I ever see again. However, rain forest means rain. Therefore those almost two weeks at the resort after the meeting concluded, were spend mostly sitting under an umbrella.
All this aside, this tripe made for memories to last a life time. And for many exotic images to help recalling those moments.
I have stated previously that Scandinavian summers are fleeting and elusive. The citizens of the North opt almost at all times for travels south during June-August, to soak up the sun and the heat of the Mediterranean. Staying at home is very risky, as the summer here can very likely rain away, offering only cold and windy days.
However, there are exceptions.
When the easterly winds bring warm air from the continent, my immediate vicinity becomes a dream vacation destination. EVERYTHING is just right. The light evenings, the absolute proximity to culture and history, the many cafes lining the city channel, the dining at the water front and the evening entertainment with a selection of musical styles, once the night settles over the city. Not to mention the nature. I live a stone throw away from beautiful woods and meadows, with trails offering a plethora of walks in the pristine country side.
And then there are the beaches. Beaches out of this world, I must say. I can reach them if I drive - or walk - in any direction. They all differ in size and composition, some facing east, some west, creating a harmony of light and colours. Always clean and never crowded. While my parents were here last week, the unusually sunny and warm weather allowed for visits to several nearby beaches. Some are covered with pebbles, with rolling, blue-green waves hitting the shore, filling the air with aerosol of salt and water. Some pristine and untouched, calm and almost tropical, with white sand and warm, turquoise sea.
Almost never am I a tourist in my own home. On those rare occasions, when I show my visitors around, I do realize that I need not to travel anywhere, as so much beauty seems to lie just outside my own door step.
Considering that this is truly the middle of the summer, let me take you back to my teens today and to a tune that almost defined summer in Europe in the early 80's. Titled "Sunshine Reggae" it is performed by a Danish group called Laid Back and was their biggest international hit ever. I recall it streaming from the radio very vividly back in the summer of 1983, when I boarded a plane for the first time in my life to spend a week in Italy with my parents. It was our first vacation outside Sweden since our emigration to the west.
The video is extremely bad, the English very clunky (and pronounced with a very heavy Danish accent) and the overall feel to it, including the fashion, is so very 80's, it is almost a joke. Nevertheless, still today it is considered one of the most popular summer songs ever made - and I think I have to agree on that one fact.
Hope you enjoy the music and the best time of the year that it represents. Happy Friday everyone!
This past weekend, partially due to the somewhat bad weather, I finally found the time to sort through my vacation pictures. Even though today everyone uses digital images and saves or presents their vacation shots on DVDs or by playing those in computer presentations, I still make prints out of my favorite photographs. I do still buy and use photo albums, as I find nothing can really replace the feeling one gets from looking at a print.
Making a short jump back to the days I spend in Prague recently, some of the pictures depict a house that is most likely the most famous one in the whole city. It is so called "Faust House", or in Czech "Faustův Dům".
According to the city legends, doctor Faust or Faustus once lived here. He made a pact with the Devil in exchange for knowledge and disappeared without a trace. All that was left was a big hole in the roof of the house library.
The house stood empty for a long time, decaying, considered haunted, until a poor student decided to move in, when he found himself cold, hungry and without a shelter. "The house" treated the student well and every day he found a silver coin on the table. His fear of the house library room slowly diminished. He covered the hole in the roof and started to read all the books, which were filled with mystical text and magical spells. Very soon he felt at ease and brave enough to invite over friends and live a life where the silver coin was not enough anymore. The greed took over the student, upon which he turned to black magic spells described in the books and then one day, he too vanished without a trace. All he left behind was a big, blackened hole in the roof of the library, just like Faust did before him.
I remember reading this story in my favorite book of Prague tales as a child. The house has most likely never had doctor Faust as an occupant (or did it?), but it remains shrouded in mystery due to the variety of its eccentric inhabitants.
In the 14th century this baroque mansion was owned by Prince Vaclav of Opava, who was the first to give rise to the association of the Faustian legend due to his avid interest in alchemy.
Among other odd occupants of the Faust house was the famous alchemists Edward Kelley, Court Alchemist to Rudolph II, who was believed to use the philosopher's stone in his pursuit to turn common metal into gold.
Ferdinand Antonin Mladota of Solopysk lived in the Faust house in the 18th century. His experiments sometimes led to big explosions, which made holes in the roof and scared everyone in the neighborhood. His son was believed to be a superb engineer and he was said to entertain his guests with gadgets installed all over the house, such as a door which would open by itself, a flying staircase and electric shocks administered upon touching a door handle.
Probably the most eccentric of them all was Karl Jaenig who lived there in the 19th century. He painted the walls with funeral texts, had a functional gallows at home and slept in a wooden coffin.
Today the Faust House is unfortunately not opened to the public and is solely used by the Faculty of Medicine at Charles University, housing among other things a pharmacy.
On our latest visit to Prague I had my picture taken in front of this beautiful building, which I remember passing as a child on walks taken with my grandfather, while he would tell me the story of doctor Faustus. Although it looks much smaller and less menacing than I recall, standing in front of it still makes all the legends I remember come alive.
My final post about our Prague adventure (at least this time around), describes the magic of the city after the onset of darkness. A veil of endless, sentimental romance settles over the streets, exuberating the feel of old photographs or paintings from times long gone. The best pictures that I took on this trip were made during the hours of dusk and twilight. Nevertheless, they can not match the beauty of the reality, which can only be appreciated fully by being there.
The winding streets leading up to the castle became silent and deserted as soon as darkness covered the city. We lived in a small, romantic hotel just under the castle and had every opportunity to visit it after dark. It was accessible and held open. Walking around the empty castle yard and gazing at the buildings and the majestic cathedral with its gargoyls and ornate stone structures was an amazing, unusual and almost surreal experience, particularly due to the fact that just a few hours prior, it was filled with hundreds of tourists.
Of course, a city like Prague with all its legends and tales, holds a few stories of the supernatural nature. Book after book has been written on this subject and the city offers a multitude of ghost tours. We joined one of the tours and were led through the streets of the old town, listening to forgotten tales of the old city, feeling the hair on the back of our neck rise. No matter how logical ones mind is, the atmosphere of the empty streets mixed with the dark tales will make a believer out of the worst of sceptics.
A picture worth posting and a detail worth mentioning is the one that we were encouraged to take standing in front of the St. James Basilica. Not only does the church have a mummified forearm hanging at its entrance, but the monastery connected to it also apparently played a major role in the killing of the Knights Templar in the 14th century. On the pictures of the entrance here, one large "energy orb" can be seen to the right of the entrance, almost at middle of the gate. Although some will claim that these orbs are of no supernatural origin and can clearly be explained scientifically, I choose to believe in magic and will proudly display my one and only meeting with the unknown.
