SUMMER IN CRIKVENICA II

Crush of the month: Penhaligon's men's perfumes. I don't think two people in the household should wear the same fragrance (had to give up Guerlain's L'instant for the same reason) so I'll get one of my own (perhaps from men's line too), I just have trouble deciding where - we usually get perfumes in Trieste at a small fragrance boutique we love, but I'll be in Covent Garden in October and I'm sure Penhaligon's flagship store is heaven. A souvenir from London.



There is something comforting about wearing long sleeves in heat, it reminds me of Lawrence of Arabia and iced tea served in small Turkish glasses. This blouse was a part of most of my opera/concert outfits in the past season. It's been everywhere, so it was only natural that it accompanies me to the seaside as well.

These days my brother and I hang around taking random photos, going to the beach after sunset and observing local "nightlife" (people in cafés glued to plasma screens watching either football matches or parliament sessions). I discovered a restaurant with the most beautiful garden and it's empty evening after evening, but then again this entire town is empty (figuratively more than literary), always has been, and that's what makes it hard for me not to love it despite its lack of everything at all.



Mediterranean architecture > new, horrendously ugly pastel-colored houses

24ur.com - BOLNO

Blitzkrieg to Ljubljana & NYC

Million dollar view

Yesterday I left the million dollar view behind and came home for two nights, taking the express train from Rijeka that was everything but express after having suffered through chaotic traffic (on Wednesday!) and other dramatics both on the motorway and in the city center. In the past, out of certain restlessness and anxiety I had to get out of Ljubljana at least once a month or rather as often as possible, welcoming my family's frequent afternoon trips to Trieste or any other possibility to elope with open arms. I cannot stand being away from Ljubljana for more than a week now; every return feels right even when I know I'll have bruises from luggage hitting my legs when I carry it up the stairs at the train station.

It might be that I am more me here than anywhere else; the great irony is that I started feeling well in Ljubljana only after I had distanced myself from it, both physically and mentally. It evolved from New York being the closest thing there was to home from October until January; in the next few months Ljubljana slowly reclaimed the throne of my heart, but I no longer perceive it the way I did before NYC happened to me and I happened to NYC. These days I walk through it as if I were a tourist; you know how you're often not really aware of interesting spots and details in your hometown because you've grown so used to your surroundings through the years? I lost that after NYC, I notice everything now.

(eng) impeccable = (hr) besprijekorna ≠ (sl) ??

I spent a good portion of my life planning to move abroad immediately after high school and start my life anew in a major European city, only returning for short visits to family and cutting all other ties uncompromisingly. I wanted to study film direction in Prague or London since I was 14; on the surface I hated Ljubljana and Slovenia because of their smallness and close-mindedness, but what frustrated me the most was actually their (my?) unrealized potential, the good things I saw in them, the visions of future I knew would never come true with the general interest and focus always steering far away from them. I wanted to be a part of something better. Unfortunately, with time I began to understand that I'm not the person for long distances; I still didn't want to do film school in Ljubljana, so in the beginning of my last year of high school I decided I wanted to go to the Academy of Dramatic Arts in Zagreb. I'd never thought about living in Zagreb before, but I quickly grew very excited about the prospect of my life there, studying something I was passionate about in a language I loved. However, this plan failed ingloriously; in June 2008 it turned out I couldn't apply to entrance exams without the diploma proving I had passed my high school leaving exams which I couldn't get any sooner than 10 days after entrance exams had already taken place.

After this bureaucratic fiasco my dad suggested I take a year off to attend a short-term film course; I much preferred this idea to studying languages at university in Ljubljana. I applied to the New York Film Academy branch in Madrid; my course was supposed to start in October, but in August, just when I found an amazing place to live in Chamartín, they emailed me saying the campus wasn't going to open until January (hurray, bureaucracy!) and that I could either take the course then or go to Los Angeles or NYC in October. I had to rule L.A. out immediately because I don't drive and I didn't know what to do in Ljubljana until January in case I opted for Madrid, but it should go without saying that deciding whether I was capable of doing something as huge as NYC was the hardest dilemma ever. Unlike Madrid, I wouldn't be able to hop on the plane and be home in 2 hours in case something went wrong, yet I had this prevalent thought in the back of my mind that it was then or never, that if I didn't take this chance to go abroad, I'd settle for eternal mundanity in Ljubljana and never gather the courage to move somewhere else again. So when I chose NYC, I chose life.

After days of browsing Craigslist and sending hundreds of emails I found a lovely one-bedroom apartment with everything I needed (laundry, deli) on the same block. However perfect it sounded, it wasn't meant to be; two weeks before my departure the apartment owner sent an email telling me there had been a fire and the apartment wouldn't be renovated by the time I arrived. In the meantime the "news" about global economic crisis broke out everywhere and real estate prices skyrocketed. I didn't find anything suitable in the remaining time ($2200/month for an unfurnished bedroom in a squalid apartment is wrong on so many levels even when said apartment is 20 minutes away from school), so I ended up going to NYC without a place to live. On the questionnaire you have to fill out before you enter the States, I wrote down the address of a hotel. I was in such a bad state upon arrival (stress, 20 hours long journey from Ljubljana to NYC via Munich etc.) that looking back I'm amazed I managed to find an apartment in 2 days and didn't have to prolong my stay in what was undoubtedly the worst hotel I'd ever seen.

The two months and half I spent in NYC initiated a massive process I still don't know how to describe; it's not growing up because I've been doing that all along, but it definitely is forming, moulding; the point is that now this academic year I spent in NYC and traveling across Europe for opera and concerts is almost over, I have a clearer idea about most things in my life, although I'm no less naïve. I'm going to start studying Comparative Literature in October; I still want to make (short) films, but at this point I think I will get more out of studying literature than film. I don't have any hesitations about doing that in Ljubljana and I'm not worried about my future or finding work; I really want to work in opera, theater as well, but most of all I want to do what I'm already doing – write, take photos and travel because in order to understand the world better I need to have first-hand experience in what's going on in different parts of it.

I now know that I will probably never be able to completely abandon Ljubljana for another city; ideally I'd like to divide my time between various places, keep my base here perhaps but I want lots and lots of Belgrade, Belgrade makes me stretch my boundaries and I need such stimulation, so who knows? I want to keep returning to NYC because it will always be home, I want Venice because it has more style than any other city, I want Zagreb, Rome, Barcelona and …, I want the red and gold of opera houses, I want breathtaking architecture and Central European cinemas that play non-dubbed films, I want world exhibitions, midday rush in the streets, Departures/Arrivals boards and people who don't disappoint. Sometimes it seems so difficult, but then I find myself right in the middle of these things, doesn't matter whether it's walking through grandiose State Rooms at the Albertina Museum in Vienna or having Saturday lunch with friends somewhere in the countryside, and I realize that just like NYC, they happen to you and you happen to them, and that's really all there is to it.


(Prevod kdaj drugič ...)

SUMMER IN CRIKVENICA

CHANGE OF SCENERY ≈ Notranja mrzlica zaradi slovesa od Ljubljane je popustila ob prvem fizičnem stiku z morjem na zaradi pozne ure skoraj prazni plaži, kjer se zbiramo lokalci; zvečer (35 stopinj v mraku) sem na terasi opazovala odhajajoče ladje in luči na fronti Klimno-Šilo-Vrbnik, v zraku sta bila rožmarin in bor, na roštilju je nekdo pripravljal sveže ribe in netopirji so nad vrtom izvajali figure, ki so še najbolj spominjale na salto mortale. Ne morem povsem dojeti, da sem spet na Hrvaškem – ne v Hrvaški iz revij ali v Zagrebu, ampak v Hrvaški običnih ljudi – in da je tam zunaj (zaradi vročine v teh 21 urah nisem šla drugam kot na plažo) hrvaščina realnost, ne pa nekaj, s čimer se doziram pretežno v samoti svoje sobe.

AURAL CONFUSION ≈ Ker mi v trenutni kontekst ne sodi nič razen lahkih not, ki se vrtijo na lokalnih radijskih postajah, moj iPod nabira prah. Glasba, ki jo poslušam (in s katero se identificiram), je v mojem življenju tako pomembna, da se sprašujem, kako malo mene je v resnici prisotno tukaj in kako veliko sem pustila doma …

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SPREMEMBA OKOLICE ≈ Inner fever caused by having said goodbye to Ljubljana for a while ceased with the first physical contact with the sea; my favorite beach known only to the locals was almost empty due to the late hour. In the evening (35 degrees Celsius at dusk) I was sitting on the terrace, watching leaving ships and lights on the front Klimno-Šilo-Vrbnik, rosemary and pine in the air, someone was preparing fresh grilled fish and in the garden bats were performing figures most reminiscent of salto mortale. I cannot grasp that I'm in Croatia – not the Croatia from magazines or Zagreb, but the Croatia of ordinary people – and that out there (I haven't been anywhere else than the beach in the past 21 hours because of the heat) Croatian equals reality, not something I have to dose myself with in the solitude of my room.

SLUŠNA ZMEDA ≈ My iPod is collecting dust because to me the light summery songs they're playing on local radio stations are the only thing that fits the current context. The music I listen to (and identify with) is such an important part of my life that I wonder how little of myself is actually present here and how much I left at home …

Ramón Vargas does Ljubljana Festival - marvelously

Gallusova dvorana Cankarjevega doma je Ramónu Vargasu včeraj priredila dvojne stoječe ovacije, ki jih ta najbrž ne bo pozabil; presežka koncerta, Donizettijevi ariji "Angelo casto e bel" iz Vojvode Albe in "Una furtiva lacrima" iz Ljubezenskega napoja, sta bila na sporedu v prvem delu, a kolektivna očaranost občinstva je ostala do konca. Kako tudi ne bi – redki so umetniki, ki svojo glasbo razumejo tako iskreno, neponarejeno in col cuore kot Vargas. Na odru deluje skromno, skoraj sramežljivo, po drugi strani pa je vse kazalo, da sta z dirigentom Villaumom vzpostavila krasen odnos in zaželela sem si, da bi lahko prisostvovala vajam (generalki?) pred koncertom. Med pavzo sem ujela besede dveh kontrabasistov in starejšega gospoda iz občinstva. "Če tole primerjaš z Lotričem …" Orkester Slovenske filharmonije je vsako leto boljši in večno bom hvaležna dami v belem, ki je začela prve stoječe ovacije, ker imamo s tem v Ljubljani pogosto težave, pa čeprav gre morda za kulturni dogodek leta, ki ga bo avgusta težko prekosila celo ekipa Bolšoj teatra.

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Ramón Vargas might never forget last evening's double standing ovation at Cankarjev dom's Gallus Hall; the highest point of the concert – Donizetti's arias "Angelo casto e bel" from Il Duca d'Alba and "Una furtiva lacrima" from L'Elisir d'amore – took place in the first half, but the audience's collective enchantment lasted until the end. How could it not when it's so difficult to find artists who understand their music as incredibly honestly and col cuore as Vargas? He seems modest, almost shy on stage, although it looked like he and conductor Villaume had established a great rapport which instantly made me wish I were present at the rehearsal(s). During intermission I caught a few words between two bassists and an elderly gentleman from the audience. "If you compare this to Lotrič (Slovenia's favorite tenor) …" The Slovenian Philharmonic Orchestra is getting better every year and I will be eternally grateful to the lady in white who started the first standing ovation because we often have trouble with that in Ljubljana, even on what could be the cultural event of the year. In conclusion, it's safe to say The Bolshoi Theatre's performers would better prepare themselves for August.

LJUBLJANA IN SUMMER

Dvorni bar, glavni štab FinihRib™ // Dvorni bar, FineRibe™ headquarters

V Dvornem baru sem v zadnjem mesecu in pol preživela lepo število napol maničnih seans, izdatno podkrepljenih z malimi club sendviči, pesmimi-ki-jih-moraš-slišati in nepogrešljivim opazovanjem okolice. Zadnja Marijina velika zamisel pred odhodom v Francijo je bila knjiga z naslovom Smrt v Ljubljani (à la Smrt v Benetkah), ki je najbrž ne bom napisala kljub njenemu genialnemu potencialu.

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I spent a considerably large number of half-manic seances heavily backed up with small club sandwiches, songs-you-have-to-hear and obligatory people-watching at Dvorni bar in the past month and half. Marija's last huge idea before she left for France was a book titled Death in Ljubljana (à la Death in Venice) that I will most likely not write despite its genius potential.

Zagreb ≠ Purgertown

Ko sem tistega dušeče vročega junijskega dopoldneva na zagrebški Špici pritisnila na sprožilec svoje Holge, še nisem vedela, da se bo na fotografiji znašla tudi tale gospa, po vsemu sodeč ena izmed tistih, ki zame naredijo Zagreb. Slog mlajših Zagrebčank ni nič posebnega, opaznost in prefinjenost se v tem mestu pri damah izoblikujeta šele v zgornji polovici tridesetih. Nosijo nakit, preproste, elegantne kroje in modne dodatke v svetlih barvah. Lepo so naličene in delujejo malce ekscentrično (to se stopnjuje s starostjo). Ponavadi so rojene Agramerke, ni pa nujno. Hodijo na kavo v hotel Dubrovnik, na kosilo v restavracijo Boban in imajo tiste vrste dostojanstvo, ki ti ga lahko privzgoji samo Zagreb. Včasih bi jim zagotovo zavidala. Danes vem, da so najresničnejše v mojem objektivu.

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On that suffocatingly hot day in June when I took this photo at Zagreb's Špica (center of the center), I wasn't yet aware this lady had also made her way into it; coincidentally, she appears to be one of those women who for me embody the essence of Zagreb. Young Zagabrian women's style is nothing special, in that city finesse begins to form itself in late thirties. The true ladies of Zagreb wear jewelry, simple, elegant cuts and accessories in bright colors. Their make-up is immaculate and they always seem a bit eccentric (it increases with age). They were usually born and raised in Zagreb, but it's not a prerequisite. They drink coffee at hotel Dubrovnik, lunch at Boban and have the kind of dignity only Zagreb can give you. Once I would have envied them. Today I know the ladies of Zagreb are at their most real in my lens.



* PURGERI: this word was originally used to refer to the people whose Zagabrian origin dated at least 4 generations back; today it's used nationwide (and beyond) for all residents of Zagreb, often with a negative connotation.

Kuren, Vrhnika ۞ Holga

Kuren, June 21st

Dekadenca tedna / Decadence of the Week

Ura je dve zjutraj in za mano je eden tistih večerov, ki jih nisem potrebovala, a sem si ga želela privoščiti, ker si ga drugače ne nikoli. Brez kakršnekoli želje po spancu zleknjena na bok berem Smrt slovenske primadone. Ob ugibanju, kako se je končala njena zgodba, me bolečina v želodcu začne opozarjati, da je od mojega zadnjega obroka minilo več kot pol dneva.

Z mize vzamem mobitel. "Dober večer*, en taksi na ________, prosim." Ni mi treba veliko razmišljati; ob takšnih nočeh se mi na celem svetu jé samo eno. Obujem visoke pete, vzamem torbico in ključe in stopim ven. Miren, jasen nočni zrak in gosto poletno tišino čez nekaj minut preseka snop luči.

"Na Miklošičevo." Pisk taksimetra. Poslušam centralo. Taksist ne govori, radio je ugasnjen. Voziva se po osvetljeni, prazni Celovški. Sploh obstaja mesto, ki ponoči ni čarobno? Sprehodi takrat trajajo dlje kot podnevi, vožnje pa so bliskovite, da se naslednji dan sprašuješ, ali si jih sanjal.

Zavijeva na mojo najljubšo ulico. "Samo sekundo," rečem par metrov pred velikim zeleno-rumenim znakom, ki se sveti v temi. Ne preseneti me, da taksist ve; ustavi prav tam, kjer ponavadi parkirajo avti s spuščenimi šipami, iz katerih se v nezanemarljivem radiju razlega glasna glasba.

Ni vrste. Po dveh stavkih, enem kovancu in petih korakih mehko zaprem avtomobilska vrata. Ker ve, da nimam drugih opravkov, taksist brez besed zavije nazaj na Celovško.




* Kako pravzaprav pozdraviš centralo in taksista sredi noči?

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It's 2 AM. I've had one of those evenings that are hardly good for me, but from time to time I choose to indulge anyway. Without any intention to go to bed I stretch myself on the sofa, reading Smrt slovenske primadone (Death of Slovenian Primadonna) and wondering about the ending of her story. The pain in my stomach reminds me it's been more than half a day since I last had a meal.

I take my cell phone from the table. "Good evening*, one taxi to ________, please." I don't have to think much; there is only one thing in the world that satisfies the hunger on such nights. I put on high heels, take my bag and keys and leave the house. After a few minutes the tranquil and clear night air is interrupted by strong beam of lights.

"To Miklošičeva." Beep of taximeter. I listen to the taxi central. The driver doesn't talk, the radio is turned off. We're driving through empty Celovška, bright from the streetlights. Is there a city that doesn't seem absolutely, heartachingly magic at night? Night walks are longer than day walks, but car rides pass by so quickly that the next day you find yourself thinking it was only a dream.

We turn to my favorite street. "Just a second," I say a couple of meters before the huge green-yellow sign glowing in the dark. I'm not surprised to realize the driver knows. He stops at the exact place that is usually occupied by cars with rolled down windows blasting loud music.

There is no queue. Two sentences, one coin and five steps later I close the car door softly. As he knows I have no more errands to run, the driver wordlessly turns back to Celovška.




* How are you supposed to greet the taxi central and the driver in the middle of the night anyway?

Težave odljubljanja / Difficulties of falling out of love

MA VIE ESTIVALE, PRESQUE NUE : Zajtrk ob enajstih, kosilo ob petih, večerja ob treh; skoraj nič me ni doma, premalo spim in pokonci me nekaj ur drži obvezni popoldanski Twinings (vanilijin z mlekom), potem pa se name spet zgrnejo vse radosti nizkega pritiska in meteoropatije, ki zadnje čase operirajo v idealnih pogojih. Po mestu čisto prepogosto videvam lep, srebrn avto z neljubljansko registracijo, zaradi katerega se počutim tako kot Leone ob pogledu na ekvipažo baronice Castelli na zagrebških ulicah; učim se geografijo Slovenije, bašem se s čokolado (kot včasih) in se sprašujem, zakaj na Facebooku ne moreš postati fan brezmadežnega spočetja. Včeraj zvečer smo Pri Zelenem zajcu s prijatelji iz čiste zafrkancije organizirali interno skupinsko branje Salome ob absintu (in kokakoli); nekje na polovici se je sprevrglo v divjo, mestoma profano improvizacijo, ki se je ne bi sramoval niti sam Wilde. Neka gospodična nas je prekinila s poizvedbo, ali smo tam zaradi Twitter partyja; morala sem pripomniti, da "taki geeki pa res nismo", ker smo vsak s svojo knjigo v naročju predstavljali utelešenje tega izraza in je bila priložnost predobra, da bi jo izpustila. Ljubljana je najzanimivejša prav poleti, ko je najbolj prazna. Paradoks? Do tistih, ki zbrišejo s prvim vročinskim valom in se ne vrnejo do septembra, ko (se) spet začnejo igrati "velike Ljubljančane", nikoli nisem gojila posebnega spoštovanja.

TEŽAVE ODLJUBLJANJA

1. Spet se moram postaviti na noge in si ponovno zgraditi življenje
2. Samo ugibam lahko, koliko čustvene škode sem si povzročila s to eskapado
3. Nahajam se v bolj fragilnem stanju, kot sem si sposobna priznati

i've had so many lives
since i was a child
and i realize
how many times i've died

ИСТИНА : "Na počitnice" bom letos šla težje kot kadarkoli prej, saj je v Ljubljani ves moj komfort (knjige-torbice-zvezki-čevlji-obleke, da nematerialnega niti ne omenjam), ki ga trenutno nujno potrebujem. Ne javljajo se niti moji standardni vzgibi po vsakomesečnih pobegih, kar bi bil v drugačnih okoliščinah sicer razlog za slavje. Je ne sais rien. Čudno, kako te neke stvari pustijo sesutega, izžetega in povsem brez energije, da v hladu s spuščenimi žaluzijami ure in ure posedaš na kavču, strmiš v prazno in se sprašuješ, kako si lahko dopustil, da se je vse skupaj zgodilo, čeprav nad takimi stvarmi v resnici ne moreš imeti nadzora. Tolažim se s tem, da je najhujše že mimo.

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MA VIE ESTIVALE, PRESQUE NUE : Breakfast at eleven, lunch at five, dinner at three; I'm almost never home, I sleep too little and the effect of my obligatory afternoon cup of Twinings (vanilla with milk) is almost immediately overridden by delights of low blood pressure and metereopathy which have recently been operating under ideal conditions. There's a pretty silver car with non-Ljubljana license plates that I see around the city way too often; it makes me feel like Leone at the sight of baroness Castelli's equipage on the streets of Zagreb. I am studying geography of Slovenia, stuffing myself with chocolate (like in the old times) and wondering why it's impossible to become a fan of immaculate conception on Facebook. Yesterday evening my friends and I organized a reading of Salome at Pri Zelenem zajcu purely out of fun; it managed to turn into a wild, partly profane improvisation even Wilde himself would be proud of. A young lady interrupted us with the inquiry whether we were there for "the Twitter party". I observed that "we're not such geeks, really" because each with their own book in the hands we were without a doubt the embodiment of that word so the opportunity was too good to miss. Ljubljana is most interesting in the summer when it's emptiest. A paradox? I've never maintained much respect for those who disappear with the first heat wave and resume feigning their status as "the true people of Ljubljana" in September.

DIFFICULTIES OF FALLING OUT OF LOVE

1. I have to build my life from scratch again.
2. I can only guess how much emotional damage I've done to myself with this escapade.
3. I have found myself in a state that's a lot more fragile than I can admit.

LA VÉRITÉ : This year my holiday departure will be harder than ever because all my comfort (books-bags-notebooks-shoes-dresses, not to mention the nonmaterial) my life depends on dearly these days is in Ljubljana. I don't even feel my standard old urge to get away for a short while, a fact that would merit much celebration under different circumstances. Je ne sais rien. It's strange how some things leave you fallen apart, without energy and so exhausted that all you're capable of doing is sit in cold, dark rooms, staring blankly into space and asking yourself why on Earth you let it happen even though such things are uncontrollable. The only consolation I have is that the worst is already over.

Stvari, ki mi ne gredo iz glave

NATANČNO ENO LETO NAZAJ sem se s kolesom vsak večer, ko sta se polegla močno sonce in sopara, vozila na Rožno ulico opazovati moj najljubši ljubljanski lestenec; za kanček bolj dražesten je od ostalih, ker se ga da videti samo takrat, ko njegovi lastniki na stežaj odprejo okno in odgrnejo zaveso, klasičen primer tega, da moraš biti na pravem mestu ob pravem času. Po naključju se slabo minuto stran nahaja še en lestenec, modernejši in predvsem glomaznejši, vendar zelo v sozvočju z vsem, kar ga obkroža, medtem ko za prvega ne bi nikoli ugotovila, da se nekaj tako zelo fensi in staromeščanskega skriva v notranjosti hiše, mimo katere hodim že celo življenje in me nikoli ni pritegnila.

UZROK SMRTI NE POMINJATI lahko gledam samo do tule:



Mislim, da si v življenju do konca ali vsaj v enem kosu nisem pogledala niti enega filma iz jugoslovanskega črnega vala. Grenkejši so od katerekoli visokoprocentne Lindtove čokolade, rada bi jih gledala, analizirala in cenila s srcem, a nismo na isti valovni dolžini. Mi je pa po drugi strani tista scena iz Zbiralcev perja dovolj za vse ostale filme skupaj, pri sebi ji (čisto resno) pravim "Balkan za telebane" in o njej bi se lahko pisali eseji. Pesem? Tista prva, Bida mange romale, ravno toliko kot Đelem, đelem.



V NAŠI HIŠI so se znašli CD-ji preteklih managerskih koncertov; med TV prenosom zadnjega sem odkrila Juliana Rachlina, ki je v samo nekaj sekundah postal moj najljubši violinist, ljubezen na prvo osminko. Skupaj s Simfoničnim orkestrom RTV Slovenija (dirigiral je Evan Christ) je igral Saint-Saënsovo Introdukcijo in rondo capriccioso v a-molu; odkar imam CD, je ne morem nehati poslušati. Ni lepšega od tega, da nepričakovano dobiš posnetek koncerta, ki ti je veliko pomenil; če bi bilo po mojem, bi snemali vse.

(Poleg Rachlinove mi je všeč še Perlmanova Introdukcija, ostali si niso vzeli dovolj časa.)





p.s.
očajavam jer ne mogu biti svjesna onog djelića sekunde kad zaspim. voljela bih to promatrati.
često bih se već u polusnu sasvim pribrala, bojeći se gubitka kontrole kad sklopim oči.
SLEEP: ERASED

citat meseca: poletje ni za spanje