Who knew that the St. Andrew’s Day celebration at the Polish Home in Seattle would be so much fun!  The evening started with cocktails and led into party music by DJ Filip. Russian born “Slava” performed with his haunting voice and skillful guitar playing. Not to be outdone, exotic belly dancer Nadira danced for her audience with passion and grace.  The evening continued with more music by DJ Filip.

Click here to see all the photos.

And enjoy the video too!

Went up to Denver a couple of days ago to pick up the rest of my cage and a seat from Slava.  Met up with Serna and had amazing food.

♥ Kikis ♥

A few weeks back (first sunday of the month) I went to the usual antique market, but this time I knew what I was looking for.
I managed to find a few nice watches and didn’t end up spending a fortune either.
My father also sent me a pocket watch he had in his “secret drawer”. It was a pocket watch his colleagues gave him as a gift when he left Bulgaria.
Recently I also won a bid for a 1917 Hamilton 17 Jewels Pocket Watch on ebay and can’t wait to get my hands on it.
So here they are (clicky on the images for a small description):

I’ll post more pics of the hamilton once it arrives here. Hopefully all in one piece.

I don’t think ther will be many more watches added to my collection for a while because I got banned from xbox live and so I’m thinking of getting a new xbox so am unsure of my financial status at the moment eheh.

o/

On Saturday evening we celebrated Vespers at the Church of St Nicholas of Japan in Brixton, Johannesburg, followed by our family Slava.

Unfortunately our parish priest, Fr Athanasius Akunda, was not able to be present, as he bhad to attend a meeting in Nigeria, and his connecting flight could not get him back in time. But Fr Pantelejmon Jovanovic, of St Thomas’s Serbian Orthodox Church in Sunninghill kindly agreed to come to serve Vespers and the Slava, assisted by Deacons Nektarius and George.

At Vespers, during the singing of Psalm 103/104, the priest says the Vesperal prayers in front of the holy doors

The choir then sing Psalm 140

Lord I call upon Thee, hear me
Hear me O Lord…
Let my prayer arise in thy sight as incense
and let the lifting up of my hands be an evening sacrifice.

While this is being sung one of the deacons censes the church.

Then there is the entrance procession with the lighting of the lamps, with the clergy and altar servers goign round the church in procession, carrying lighted candles, and the ikons are censed, and the deacon censes the altar

The entrance at Vespers: Deacon Stephen Hayes, Deacon George Coconos, Priest Pantelejmon Jovanovic, Deacon Nektarius Ritson

while the choir sings the ancient hymn:

O gladsome light of the holy glory of the immortal Father
heavenly holy blessed Jesus Christ
Now that we have come to the setting of the sun
and behld the light of evening
we praise thee Father, Son and Holy Spirit
For meet it is at all times to praise thee
Son of God and giver of life
Therefore all the world doth glorify thee.

St Nicholas Church Choir

At the end of Vespers the priest (Father Pantelejmon) gives the blessing

Father Pantelejmon gives the blessing at the end of Vespers

The clergy come into the nave of the church, where a table is set up with things for the Slava and the family members gather round.

On the table is the ikon of the saint of the day. in this case St Michael and the Bodiless powers of Heaven. This is the day on which we were received into the Orthodox Church 22 years ago, and so we observe this as our Slava.

The table prepared for the Slava

On the right of the table is the Slava Kolach, a special loaf of bread to commemorate the living members of the family. On the left is Koliva, the main ingredient of which is boiled wheat, to remember the dead members of the family. There is a small jug with wine.

The priest blesses the Slava Kolach

The priest blesses the Slava Kolach, and then cuts it at the bottom, crosswive, and  pours wine into the cracks. Then the family, together with the priest and deacons, turn the bread, “walking” it on their fingers, while the choir sings the wedding hymn:

O holy martyrs who fought the good fight and have received your crowns
Entreat ye the Lord, that he will have mercy on our souls.
Glory to thee, O Christ God, the apostles boast, the martyrs’ joy
whose preaching was the consubstantial Trinity.

Rejoice O Isaiah, a virgin is with child
and shall bear a son Emmanuel
He is both God and man, and Orient is his name
Magnifying him, we call the Virgin blessed.

When this hymn is finished, the priest breaks the Kolach with the host, matching the halves so the top sides of the Kolach are on the outside. He then kisses the bread and offers it to the celebrants saying:

Priest: Christ is in our midst!
People: He is and always shall be.

The blessing of the Slava Kolach

At the end we sang “Many Years” for the family, and all those who had the names of angels — our son Raphael (Jethro), who took the photos, and members of the congregation Gabriel and Gabriella.

De patruzeci de ierni cand sa te-apropii

si santuri s-or sapa in fruntea-ti blanda,

semetul strai ce azi ne umple ochii

va fi o buruiana tremuranda…

“Unde  ti-e harul, daca iti vor spune,

unde-i comoara zilelor de vlaga?”

Sa  nu raspunzi ca-n ochi. Desertaciune

va fi cuvantul tau si-or sa-nteleaga,

slavindu-ti frumusetea in clipa

cand vei rosti: “Copilul meu se cade

s-adune si prisosul si risipa,

uracnd, el va ierta pe-acel ce scade… “

Aceasta sa te innoiesti se cheama

cu sange cald, cand moartea-ti cere vama …

W. Shakespeare

Eroticdreambattle – Not Paella: “In Leeds, the Muslim kids went trick-or-treating with witches’ hats over their hijabs. It was unspeakably cute.”

I once knew a couple of American kids in Namibia (now comfortably middle-aged) who were discussing what they should do about Hallowe’en. They realised that Hallowe’en was not big in Namibia. None of the other kids at their school were doing anything about it, and it did not seem to be important to them. They realised that they could not go around trick or treating, because nobody they went to would have a clue what they were on about. And at that moment they were very aware that they were far from home, far from their familiar culture.

I suppose it is the absence of familiar cultural rituals that makes people, particularly children, feel alienated in a strange culture. There was another American family in Namibia with a much younger child, about two or three years old, and the older children eventually did some Hallowe’en things for him. He was too young to miss them, but the older ones may have thought that it was part of his cultural heritage that he perhaps needed to know, for when the family returned to the USA.The parents may have thought so too.

The only thing that I knew about American Hallowe’en rituals back then came from American comics, Peanuts was one, where Charlie Brown was obsessed with a great pumpkin and the moon, and Nancy and Sluggo, who spoke about carving faces in pumpkins. Our pumpkins don’t lend themselves to that kind of treatment. American pumpkins seem to be round and yellow, ours are flat and white. I suspect that that was the limit of knowledge of most people of my generation in Southern Africa. I was Anglican back then, and I was also aware of Hallowe’en in a more generalised Anglican sense — a major saints day, observed with a First Evensong. In some parishes the First Evensong was quite a solemn affair, observed with incense, and the singing of long hymns like For all the saints who from their labours’ rest which had a kind of bitter-sweet joyful sorrow to them.

The golden evening brightens in the west;
soon, soon to faithful warriors cometh rest
Sweet is the calm of Paradise the blest.
Alleluya! Alleluya!

It was sung to the grand music of Ralph Vaughan Williams, with loud organ twiddly bits between the verses. It also has echoes of Frodo Baggins leaving the Shire at the end of The Lord of the Rings. That was my main association with Hallowe’en, and another was Charles Williams’s novel All Hallows Eve, which features two dead girls, one bound for heaven and one for hell.

It’s a little bit different now, but not much. South Africa has some awareness of Hallowe’en, manifested by posters advertising (adult) fancy dress parties, and an increase in the number of slasher movies shown on TV. But still no trick or treat, and certainly not for children.

But on Saturday we’ll be having our own alien cultural ritual, our family Slava.

Slava (which means “praise”) is a Serbian custom, unknown even to most other Orthodox. We were introduced to it by Jonathan and Vera Proctor, who were in our parish about 20 years ago, when Jonathan was completing his degree studies in South Africa. He’s now a priest in the USA, and his wife Vera is of Serbian ancestry, and so they had a Slava, and invited fellow parishioners to attend. Many Orthodox Christians celebrate name days (rather than birthdays). That is the day of the saint whose name they bear. But the Serbs had the Slava, which is a kind of family name day. It falls on day of the saint on which the first members of the family were baptised. It commemorates the family becoming Christian. It recalls the living and the dead members of the family — the living with the Slava Kolach, a special kind of bread, and the dead with koliva, the main ingredient of which is boiled wheat, to remind us of what our Lord Jesus Christ said, “except a corn of wheat fall to the ground and die, it remains a single seed, but if it dies it becomes many” (John 12:24) and also I Corinthians 15:37-44. And the hymn of the Dance of Isaiah from the marriage service is also sung, as a reminder of the importance of the family.

At the time it also seemed appropriate for Africa, where traditionally the living and the dead of the family have been seen as one spiritual community, and so we adopted the Slava as a family custom too. Our Slava is the feast of St Michael and All the Bodiless Powers of Heaven, which falls on 8 November, because that was the day in 1987 on which we were received into the Orthodox Church. And, perhaps also appropriately, we were married on 29 September, which is the Western equivalent, the feast of St Michael and All Angels, commonly known as Michaelmas. This year, therefore, it will also be the celebration of our 35th wedding anniversary. In the Orthodox Church every saint’s day has the equivalent of the Anglican “First Evensong” the night before, because the liturgical day begins at sunset, so Sunday Vespers is sung on Saturday evening, and that is when we have our Slava.

I’ve written elsewhere about what has been called “cultural appropriation” — where Christians observe Ramadan, and perhaps where Muslim children in Leeds observe Hallowe’en. Is keeping Slava in South Africa an inappropriate form of cultural appropriation, or is it inculturation? Time will tell.

Această imagine nu este trucată, dar a fost nevoie s-o prelucrez, din cauza luminii nefavorabile.

Ne-am obişnuit cu pasărea Phoenix… şi totuşi în lumea vegetală sunt multe idei de forţă ale vieţii, şi chiar ale credinţei.
Plantele nu obişnuiesc să mănânce sau să omoare alte vieţuitoare, deşi există excepţii notabile, ca plantele carnivore şi cele parazite care-şi sufocă deseori gazda. Există chiar şi plante aproape sinucigaşe, sau poate doar prostuţe: de multe ori cele căţărătoare — iedera şi viţa de orice fel — îşi împletesc atât de strâns propriile tulpini, încât se autosufocă.
De câte ori am avut de plantat un copac m-a şocat importanţa “materialului săditor”, pentru că dintr-o stârpitură cu ramuri alandala, asimetrică, strâmbă şi fără vlagă nu sunt speranţe să se obţină cine ştie ce copac falnic şi folositor. Deşi sunt şi astfel de cazuri, pentru că poţi planta un copac asimetric lângă un gard (de exemplu, pentru ca vecinul să nu se bucure ilicit de poamele tale, deşi poate tu culegi cu sârg roade străine din văzduhul proprietăţii tale), sau lângă o clădire, ca să eviţi umbra.
Dar minunea la plante stă în rădăcina nevăzută. Dacă te saturi şi retezi un copac diform, de multe ori ai surpriza că din pământ apare un altul, sănătos şi plăcut la vedere, aşa cum ţi l-ai dorit de la-nceput. Şi te surprinzi gândindu-te la tine, la cum ai fost, la cum eşti…
O altă surpriză poţi avea când rădăcina apare pe neaşteptate, în locuri neprevăzute, ca să salveze viaţa plantei pe care o consideri deja moartă. Am văzut în Maramureş un copac incredibil: chiar de lângă temelia unei case de lemn porneau trei tulpini diferite, ce se întâlneau deasupra pământului într-un trunchi unic — era ca un stativ vegetal pentru note sau microfoane, în vârf cu o coroană de frunze în toată regula. Ţăranul mi-a dat explicaţia: s-a întors de la pădure cu o creangă pe care-o folosise la cules mere pădureţe, şi a rezemat-o neatent de peretele casei, cu vârfurile ce alcătuiau “mâna” în jos.
Este tulburător uneori şi tropismul vegetal: nevoia de verticalitate, de independenţă faţă de terenul deseori înclinat şi uneori nehotărât pe care s-a întâmplat să cadă sămânţa. Alunecări vechi de teren, dezastre uitate pot fi trădate de copacii îngenuncheaţi, ridicaţi nu numai spre lumină dar şi spre cer. Spun asta pentru că am văzut copaci incredibili, care ieşeau la lumină ocolind pe trasee întortocheate umbra semenilor. De-abia ajunşi în lumină îşi îndreptau vârful spre cer, dacă mai aveau vlagă.

Mă fascinează şi florile pe care nu le văd oamenii niciodată, ascunse departe de aparatele de fotografiat şi camerele de luat vederi, în deşerturi, râpe inaccesibile, prea departe în tundră sau prea aproape de Poli, pe insule fără turişti, crescute în crăpăturile betoanelor din vechi fabrici părăsite, încrâncenate pe ziduri de piatră ce nu atrag privirile nimănui… Sunt pură existenţă spre slavă — aşa cum pot fi şi oamenii, mai ales dacă nu se uită unii la alţii, dezgustaţi.

Deşi au sevă, acea umezeală indispensabilă a vieţii, circulând fără zbateri prin forţele abstracte ale unei suficiente dar nu exagerate apropieri, plantele nu se mai aduc jertfă încă de pe vremea lui Cain, şi nici nu se jertfesc singure, poate pentru că se tem de întuneric. Dar vântul le transformă în fiecare zi în ofrandă legănată, iar prin ardere de tot se pierd în fum şi cenuşă. Fără să cutremure nici o inimă, căci nu au sânge să strige către Dumnezeu.

Pentru John Denver, dar şi pentru mulţi alţii, a fost odată oboseală, tristeţe, singurătate şi… calea.

EU sunt calea, adevărul şi viaţa.
Eu SUNT calea, Eu SUNT adevărul, Eu SUNT viaţa
Eu sunt CALEA, Eu sunt ADEVĂRUL, Eu sunt VIAŢA

SONG of WYOMING

Well, I’m weary and tired, I’ve done my days ridin’
Nighttime is rollin’ my way
The sky’s all on fire and the lights slowly fading
Peaceful and still ends the day
Out on the trail night birds are callin’
Singin’ their wild melody
Down in the canyon cottonwood whispers
A Song of Wyoming for me

Well, I’ve wandered around the town and the city
Tried to figure the how and the why
Well, I’ve stopped all my schemin’
I’m just driftin’ and dreamin’
Watching the river roll by
Here comes that big old prairie moon risin’
Shinin’ down bright as can be
Up on the hill there’s a coyote singin’
A Song of Wyoming for me

Now it’s whiskey and tobacco and bitter black coffee
A lonesome old dogie am I
But wakin’ up on the range
Lord I feel like an angel
Free like I almost could fly
Drift like a cloud out over the badlands
Sing like a bird in the tree
The wind in the sage sounds like heaven singin’
A Song of Wyoming for me
A Song of Wyoming for me

Acest cântec al lui John Denver mi-a bântuit adolescenţa, dar îl simt la fel de aproape şi azi. L-am ascultat o singură dată împreună cu altcineva, dar acum sunt mult mai înţelept decât în adolescenţă… Atunci aş fi spus că nu prea sînt, acum aş spune că sunt alt cineva, aproape o dată pe oră altul.
Pe atunci încă visam că zbor — da, în somn visam asta destul de des (auzisem că este un semn de boală rară, dar nu cred — voi visaţi că zburaţi?). Nu zburam ca un vultur, era ceva ca un fel de înot, stil crawl la foarte mare înălţime, destul de jos ca să mai văd florile şi copacii, destul de sus ca să scap de ceea ce mă urmărea în vis. (Oare ce fel de gând ciudat a dus la botezarea unui stil de înot rapid cu un cuvânt specific uscatului şi repulsiei?). Uneori mai visam că pot alerga precum astronauţii pe Lună, cu salturi uriaşe, înalte, domoale… Dar acu’ s-a isprăvit, zisei eu cu glas sfârşit, ridicând din picioruş. Totuşi, mai sper să revină. Nu vara, ci visele cu zbor.

Versurile ascund un Nume care este mai presus decât oricare alt nume.

LOOKING FOR SPACE

On the road of experience, I’m trying to find my own way.
Sometimes I wish that I could fly away
When I think that I’m moving, suddently things stand still
I’m afraid ’cause I think they always will

And I’m looking for space
And to find out who I am
And I’m looking to know and understand
It’s a sweet, sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
And sometimes I’m deep in despair

All alone in the universe, sometimes that’s how it seems
I get lost in the sadness and the screams
Then I look in the center, suddently everything’s clear
I find myself in the sunshine and my dreams

And I’m looking for space
And to find out who I am
And I’m looking to know and understand
It’s a sweet, sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
And sometimes I’m deep in despair

On the road of experience, join in the living day
if there’s an answer, it’s just that it’s just that way

When you’re looking for space
And to find out who you are
When you’re looking to try and reach the stars
It’s a sweet, sweet sweet dream
Sometimes I’m almost there
Sometimes I fly like an eagle
But sometimes I’m deep in despair
Sometimes I fly like an eagle,
like an eagle
I go flying flying

John Denver avea sânge de indian, dar cânta ca un lonely cowboy — avea nevoie de cuvinte pentru cântări, poate mai puţin pentru dialoguri, poate deseori pentru monologuri ascultate doar de Marele Spirit.
După cum veţi vedea mai jos, rugăciunea Tatăl nostru are câteodată nevoie de spaţiile largi ale preeriei… Încercaţi s-o spuneţi ca indienii între zgârie-norii de pe Wall Street? Se poate, dar trebuie să vă orientaţi pe direcţia corectă. Deci…
(Scuze, dar trebuie două clickuri, se poate vedea doar pe Youtube.)

ikvienam ir tiesības iepazīties ar Gossip girl(Intriganti).

Markus,  Rolandas, Vidas, Leonardas, Remigijus, Leonas, Aleksandr, Matas, Sigitas, Vaidas, Dmitrij, Darius,

Aurelija, Ina, Ana, Kristina, Janina, Dalia, Diana, Edita, Jolanta, Juzeta, Anatanina, Vida, Zaneta, Renata,

Klemens, Jonas, Jaroslav, Miroslav, Giacomo, Mac, Zivile, Julius, Linas, Ingo, Aurelijus, Aleksej, Leos,

Gitana, Slava, Ieva, Lena, Zuzana, Shira, Jana, Elena, Lineta, Veronique, Ingrid, Loreta, Liudmila, Simona,

Artur, Audrius, Berto, Darin, Edward, Clayton, Pieter, Marshall, Steven, James, Daniel, Liev, Tomas, Iddo,

Milda, Anastasija, Johdi, Victoria, Alisa, Alexa, Sascha, Klara, Emereta, Natasha, Cloe

Iben, Jacek, Jonjo, Jakub, Leonid, Osvaldas, Evaldas, Arion

Bajrami su praznici mira i za bajramskom sofrom bajramuju i mire se oni koji su se zavadili iz bilo kojih razloga.

Muslimani često pozivaju i članove drugih vjerskih zajednica da ručaju i slave s njima, kako bi na taj način širili duh tolerancije.

Bajramska kuhinja ili Bajramska sofra, kako se još kaže u Bosni i Hercegovini, mora biti specijalna!

Domaćini postavljaju sto koristeći najbolji stolnjak, tanjire i pribor za jelo koje imaju u kući. Ručak je izuzetno obilan a negdje je u tradiciji da mora uključivati najomiljenije jelo svakog člana porodice.

Najčešća riječ koja se nalazi u imenima nacionalnih restorana – aščinica u Bosni i Hercegovini je, sofra.

U turskom jeziku, riječ sofra se koristi sa značenjem trpeze, stola za ručak (ručavanje)  a u bosanskom jeziku često ima prošireno značenje i na samo jelo pripremljeno i postavljeno bilo na sto ili na demirliju.

Mnogi su u svom djetinjstvu čuli riječi svojih starijih ukućana: “Ne diraj sofre, dolaze nam gosti”,  što znači: “Ne diraj jela koja su servirana za goste” ili “Bujrum, sofra je spremna”, što znači: “Izvolite, jelo je servirano!”

Bajramski ručak u Bosni i Hercegovini najčešće počinje supom ili čorbom, nakon čega slijedi neko varivo (sarma, bosanski lonac i slično),  zatim pite, pa pečeno meso sa povrćem te slatko.

Bosanska kuhinja mnogo toga duguje svojoj otomanskoj prošlosti, tako su jela na bajramskoj trpezi najčešće specijaliteti sa turskim uticajem. Domaćica kuće obično za glavno jelo napravi begovu čorbu, bosanski lonac (bosanski paprikaš od povrća i mesa, tradicionalno kuhan u zemljanoj posudi), hadžijski ćevap (teleći paprikaš), musaku (od faširanog mesa i krompira), različite dolme (punjeni crni luk i paprika) i sarmu (uvijeni listovi kiselog kupusa punjeni mesom i rižom). Na stolu su nezaobilazne i različite pite.

Slatkiši su vrlo bitan element bajramske trpeze – najčešće su teški, porijeklom turski i preliveni agdom. Za njihovu pripremu generalno je potrebno prilično kulinarsko iskustvo, a najčešće su to baklava, ružice, tufahije i halva.

Za Bajram se spremaju tzv. zijafeti (meniji) i naslovljeni su po imenima gradova (npr. Gradačački, Mostarski itd.). Ukoliko ste, na primjer, pozvani na sarajevski zijafet, budite sigurni da će vam se na stolu pojaviti specijaliteti kao što su čimbur, čorba, ćevap, bamija, sarma, pilav, burek, zeljanica, baklava, almasije, paluza i kadaif. Prema zapisima drevnih putopisaca koji su kroz historiju pohodili Bosnu i Hercegovinu, zijafeti su se obično sastojali od 12 do 24 jela (jemeka), a Fejzi-beg Kulenović bilježi 1899. godine da “pri svakoj svečanoj večeri ili ručku treba da bude 15 – 30 različitih jela”. U ta stara vremena, sarajevski, tuzlanski, banjalučki, mostarski i travnički restorani (musafirhane) obično su nudili svojim gostima dvadesetak različitih slatkih i slanih jela.

p.s.

U BiH se pite prave od mnogo čega a u nekim krajevima čak i od cvijeta bagrema!