| Next revision | Previous revision Next revisionBoth sides next revision |
| resilients:surrender_travelogue [2013-02-27 03:02] – created alkan | resilients:surrender_travelogue [2013-02-27 15:02] – 109.129.224.173 |
|---|
| A travelogue by Shelbatra Jashari | A travelogue by Shelbatra Jashari |
| |
| //Spirit trippin',
Ramadan-meandering,
wild herbs admiring
and cruisin' bussin' hangin'// | |
| |
| === Blown by the wind === | === Blown by the wind === |
| |
| In Rab we stay in a household with the Performing Pictures contingent of the Resilients team. It is an open-plan space where family and friends share sleeping quarters, a kitchen, and the sun. It is built out of very old stonework and has been in the family for several generations. In contrast to the tourist buildings around the coast -- newly-built concrete and glass edifices devoid of history and empty of meaning -- my hosts consciously make an effort to keep their family history alive. | In Rab we stay in a household with the Performing Pictures contingent of the Resilients team. It is an open-plan space where family and friends share sleeping quarters, a kitchen, and the sun. It is built out of very old stonework and has been in the family for several generations. In contrast to the tourist buildings around the coast -- newly-built concrete and glass edifices devoid of history and empty of meaning -- my hosts consciously make an effort to keep their family history alive. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511157549/" title="RT_HOUse by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8505/8511157549_c422ae46d2_c.jpg" width="800" height="800" alt="RT_HOUse"></a></html> |
| |
| The house has no electricity or hot water. I arrive after sunset, entering the dark interior at the end of my first day in the Balkan sun, and feel like I’m stepping into another time. We have dinner on the floor. I’ve only been gone from Brussels 24 hours and I can already feel a transformation. A week without a warm shower or electricity, and with no light at night. I was not entirely prepared for this, but these new challenges help to forget the bora and plunge into the organisation of every day as it comes. In the company of the mistress of the house, a [[http://lib.fo.am/resilients/dougald_hine_interview|journeyman]] and his lady, a tattooed Croatian sculptor, and the kids (one of them apparently escaped from a comic book), I call this place home for the next week. | The house has no electricity or hot water. I arrive after sunset, entering the dark interior at the end of my first day in the Balkan sun, and feel like I’m stepping into another time. We have dinner on the floor. I’ve only been gone from Brussels 24 hours and I can already feel a transformation. A week without a warm shower or electricity, and with no light at night. I was not entirely prepared for this, but these new challenges help to forget the bora and plunge into the organisation of every day as it comes. In the company of the mistress of the house, a [[http://lib.fo.am/resilients/dougald_hine_interview|journeyman]] and his lady, a tattooed Croatian sculptor, and the kids (one of them apparently escaped from a comic book), I call this place home for the next week. |
| |
| We are awaiting the arrival of the [[the pollinators|Peregrini/Pollinators]] -- but the bora has delayed them. This group of artist-journeyers has been biking their way across half of Europe from Poland to Rab in an epic “karma biking” adventure, a pilgrimage and experiment in resilient modes of cultural transport. I interviewed the participants once they arrived in Rab, listening to their multifaceted and often passionate tales. | We are awaiting the arrival of the [[the pollinators|Peregrini/Pollinators]] -- but the bora has delayed them. This group of artist-journeyers has been biking their way across half of Europe from Poland to Rab in an epic “karma biking” adventure, a pilgrimage and experiment in resilient modes of cultural transport. I interviewed the participants once they arrived in Rab, listening to their multifaceted and often passionate tales. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511155777/" title="pollinators by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8505/8511155777_0b26dc5323_c.jpg" width="800" height="600" alt="pollinators"></a></html> |
| |
| === Meandering in the open air, showered by falling stars === | === Meandering in the open air, showered by falling stars === |
| |
| Dario changes your perception of the world. A collage of contradictions and a wise mountain guide, he leads us through the wild, helps us tell the good herbs from the bad, advises us on resilient food and drink and regales us with tales, songs and reflections on wild garlic, ticks, and sleeping. (He convinced me that your legs should always be higher than your head when you sleep -- this was supposed to have some kind of beneficial effect on longevity.) During nights in the open the sounds of stars and wild animals are a background to the hilarious soundtrack of the snoring group. It is so conforting to find a home in meandering and the open air. | Dario changes your perception of the world. A collage of contradictions and a wise mountain guide, he leads us through the wild, helps us tell the good herbs from the bad, advises us on resilient food and drink and regales us with tales, songs and reflections on wild garlic, ticks, and sleeping. (He convinced me that your legs should always be higher than your head when you sleep -- this was supposed to have some kind of beneficial effect on longevity.) During nights in the open the sounds of stars and wild animals are a background to the hilarious soundtrack of the snoring group. It is so conforting to find a home in meandering and the open air. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511117325/" title="UnmannedResilienceGroup by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8234/8511117325_0fa9dc811f_c.jpg" width="800" height="600" alt="UnmannedResilienceGroup"></a></html> |
| |
| I encounter Kenny and Hafid on my way back from doing some hanging exercises in the mountain trees. Their arrival is a sign that we're nearing “civilisation” again, as they take out their computers and start debugging the SiNuNi, their weather and land recording device. The SiNuNi collects data from sensors, stories from people and locations from a GPS. With the entire hiking group we find our way to the first mountain hut after two days of travelling. There we find real food and drinks. | I encounter Kenny and Hafid on my way back from doing some hanging exercises in the mountain trees. Their arrival is a sign that we're nearing “civilisation” again, as they take out their computers and start debugging the SiNuNi, their weather and land recording device. The SiNuNi collects data from sensors, stories from people and locations from a GPS. With the entire hiking group we find our way to the first mountain hut after two days of travelling. There we find real food and drinks. |
| |
| Are there any goats in the Gora mountains -- and if so, where are they hiding? Back in “civilisation,” the most memorable moments for me are ATOL pilots’ drone tests on the first night. The drones had a sci-fi ninja triangle shape that made me think of a Daft-Punkish anime. They flew over the region of our hike during the night and sent detailed images back to us. The next day we sat down and tried to spot the goats in the aerial photos. They were nowhere to be found. In desperation, some of us started Photoshopping the goats into the images; others started seeing dragons and lots of other creatures in a hallucinating pixelfest. But the mystery remained -- where did all the mountain goats go? We asked ourselves if it was due to the weather, or if they’d all been eaten by the wild bear that was at large (and also stalking us). Our speculations became more and more improbable and crazy -- but we never solved the mystery. | Are there any goats in the Gora mountains -- and if so, where are they hiding? Back in “civilisation,” the most memorable moments for me are ATOL pilots’ drone tests on the first night. The drones had a sci-fi ninja triangle shape that made me think of a Daft-Punkish anime. They flew over the region of our hike during the night and sent detailed images back to us. The next day we sat down and tried to spot the goats in the aerial photos. They were nowhere to be found. In desperation, some of us started Photoshopping the goats into the images; others started seeing dragons and lots of other creatures in a hallucinating pixelfest. But the mystery remained -- where did all the mountain goats go? We asked ourselves if it was due to the weather, or if they’d all been eaten by the wild bear that was at large (and also stalking us). Our speculations became more and more improbable and crazy -- but we never solved the mystery. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8512245196/" title="golak by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8085/8512245196_a7e62c4ff0_c.jpg" width="800" height="600" alt="golak"></a></html> |
| |
| === Green landscapes beyond the grey rocks and a purple sunrise === | === Green landscapes beyond the grey rocks and a purple sunrise === |
| I board the //Liburnija,// the ship from Rijeka to Split, and sleep on deck under the stars, contemplating the many possibilities of a boat as a platform for being playful. The ship’s bar hosts a strange assortment of characters. All the bartenders are tall, have moustaches, and wear black and white suits. They look like they escaped from a communist jazz band from the times when Yugoslavia still existed. An inconspicuous picture on the wall of the Pope, who had once travelled on this same vessel. | I board the //Liburnija,// the ship from Rijeka to Split, and sleep on deck under the stars, contemplating the many possibilities of a boat as a platform for being playful. The ship’s bar hosts a strange assortment of characters. All the bartenders are tall, have moustaches, and wear black and white suits. They look like they escaped from a communist jazz band from the times when Yugoslavia still existed. An inconspicuous picture on the wall of the Pope, who had once travelled on this same vessel. |
| |
| Arriving in Split to a purple sunrise, the colours of the city blow my mind. Papers on the pavement seem to be inviting me to a “Broken Hearts Club”… This is an old port town; palm trees, royalty, old Balkan Illyrian connections, mysterious encounters, ancient architecture and stonework. Every morning the whole city, it seems, comes out to bathe in the sea. | Arriving in Split to a purple sunrise, the colours of the city blow my mind. Torn posters on the pavement seem to be inviting me to a “Broken Hearts Club”… This is an old port town; palm trees, royalty, old Balkan Illyrian connections, mysterious encounters, ancient architecture and stonework. Every morning the whole city, it seems, comes out to bathe in the sea. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511127777/" title="Split_plant by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8390/8511127777_c3745e5be1_c.jpg" width="800" height="800" alt="Split_plant"></a></html> |
| |
| Leaving Split I embark on a 20-hour bus ride that takes me further and further into the “wild east.” The rocky grey Croatian coast, the Bosnian town of Neum and then into the dark of Montenegro -- the black mountain where green (painful to the eyes) starts colouring my landscape. We must wait hours for passport control at each border between these countries. I get off after dark in the coastal town of Ulcinj, against the advice of the bus driver, who on discovering that we both speak Albanian says it’s not safe for a lady here at night and urges me to catch a taxi onwards to Kosovo. But I end up waiting here nonetheless, on the closed “Little Beach” of Ulcinj, and sleep away the remaining eight hours on the 200 km bus ride to Kosovo without mishap. | Leaving Split I embark on a 20-hour bus ride that takes me further and further into the “wild east.” The rocky grey Croatian coast, the Bosnian town of Neum and then into the dark of Montenegro -- the black mountain where green (painful to the eyes) starts colouring my landscape. We must wait hours for passport control at each border between these countries. I get off after dark in the coastal town of Ulcinj, against the advice of the bus driver, who on discovering that we both speak Albanian says it’s not safe for a lady here at night and urges me to catch a taxi onwards to Kosovo. But I end up waiting here nonetheless, on the closed “Little Beach” of Ulcinj, and sleep away the remaining eight hours on the 200 km bus ride to Kosovo without mishap. |
| |
| I have won in my surrender to the law of the worlds. I surrender to simple happiness, becoming part of my environment wherever I go. I have won over belonging and unbelonging. I accept my alienation. | I have won in my surrender to the law of the worlds. I surrender to simple happiness, becoming part of my environment wherever I go. I have won over belonging and unbelonging. I accept my alienation. |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511125945/" title="albania by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8509/8511125945_a80172101e_c.jpg" width="800" height="800" alt="albania"></a></html> |
| |
| === On a playground of ghost creatures === | === On a playground of ghost creatures === |
| |
| Another is Liburn Jupolli, a sound artist doing weird experiments with old instruments and re-appropriating them into [[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56u1RWHbWZE|sound-sculptures]]. These artists welcome me and show me round the building where I have so many memories -- a place called Boro and Ramiz, the Prishtina symbol for the Yugoslavian connection between the different Kosovar populations. (Serbian Boro and Kosovar-Albanian Ramiz were World War II comrades who died in battle together, becoming a symbol of brotherly partisan friendship.) | Another is Liburn Jupolli, a sound artist doing weird experiments with old instruments and re-appropriating them into [[http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=56u1RWHbWZE|sound-sculptures]]. These artists welcome me and show me round the building where I have so many memories -- a place called Boro and Ramiz, the Prishtina symbol for the Yugoslavian connection between the different Kosovar populations. (Serbian Boro and Kosovar-Albanian Ramiz were World War II comrades who died in battle together, becoming a symbol of brotherly partisan friendship.) |
| | |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511236267/" title="Liburn by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8507/8511236267_18f4c2dcfe_c.jpg" width="800" height="800" alt="Liburn"></a></html> |
| |
| Since the last Kosovar-Serbian war the building has served as a parking lot, but //Prishtinë -- mon amour// have re-appropriated the space as a venue for sweet performances that sound like Sonic Youth gigs at their best. Some girls are putting up stickers on traffic lights and walls with the motto, “never stop loving.” Finding this in the city where I was born is like discovering a treasure on my pilgrimage of love. I determine to never stop loving, no matter how close to despair. | Since the last Kosovar-Serbian war the building has served as a parking lot, but //Prishtinë -- mon amour// have re-appropriated the space as a venue for sweet performances that sound like Sonic Youth gigs at their best. Some girls are putting up stickers on traffic lights and walls with the motto, “never stop loving.” Finding this in the city where I was born is like discovering a treasure on my pilgrimage of love. I determine to never stop loving, no matter how close to despair. |
| Leaving her behind makes me recall all the goodbyes I’ve said up to now. Surely too many for a lifetime. | Leaving her behind makes me recall all the goodbyes I’ve said up to now. Surely too many for a lifetime. |
| |
| //I fly to Venice like a light bird,\\ | |
| knowing that putting up a mask\\ | |
|
is enjoying to the fullest the light
and life\\ | |
|
to surrender
\\ | |
| to the pilgrimage of love that will carry me\\ | |
|
for the world is mine to discover
\\ | |
| and I need not fear the road\\ | |
|
for in my heart I carry the treasures of this world// | |
| |
| | <html><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/foam/8511237595/" title="grandmother by _foam, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8087/8511237595_416e43fcbc_c.jpg" width="800" height="800" alt="grandmother"></a></html> |
alkan