#volanie

[ippokampos]

Ονειρικο soundtrack, από μια ακόμα πιο ονειρικη ταινια❤️

[bu1410]

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971." - Chapter III - March 5th, 2024

Bari - Italy

Bar - Montenegro

Kotor - Montenegro

Sveti Stefan - Montenegro

Dubrovnik - Croatia

Lake Skadar - Montenegro.

BAR - MONTENEGRO- FORMER YUGOSLAVIA – October 1982

I returned from Saudi Arabia quite disappointed by the behavior of the Works Director, Eng. Birago. I liked the Taif hospital project, but I think the old Engineer had the whiskey affair tied to his finger, and at the first opportunity he got rid of me. I therefore responded with enthusiasm to the call from VOLANI, a company from Rovereto (Trento, Italy) specialized in industrialized architecture, essentially a direct competitor of FEAL Milan. I went to Rovereto for the interview with the Chief of Staff ''accompanied by Mother''! In the sense that my mother, as soon as she learned that I was going to Rovereto, immediately jumped on the car: beyond the desire to go around, it was one of her favorite destinations! The interview went well, and I was offered a job at their construction site in Bar, Montenegro, then still a territory of Yugoslavia. Before leaving for Bar, I wanted to spend a weekend in Madesimo, in Italian Alps. In 1981 there was no Internet, and therefore we had not booked the hotel. When we were in Medesimo we soon realized that the hotels were all closed (we learned that October/November are the months in which hoteliers go on holiday). In the end we turned to the local Carabinieri station, who suggested we go up to Alpe Motta where there was an alpine refuge that was definitely open.

JOURNEY TO BAR I had bought a new jacket, grey/blue on the outside, and with yellow padding on the inside. I took the flight to Bari, and then from Palese airport a taxi took me to the port. The ferry to Bar would leave in the evening. I enjoyed a single cabin, and the crossing of the Adriatic was uneventful. In the morning, when I tried to open the cabin door, I bumped into the bodies of those less fortunate than me, who had spent the night sleeping on the floor in the ship's corridor. We went ashore, and I noticed that I was surrounded by the usual dozens of women who at the time were shuttling between Italy and Yugoslavia, bringing all sorts of merchandise to their country. One of them, a middle-aged woman, asked me in in somewhat broken Italian:

Do you have something to declare?

No….

Well, it means that you will go through customs with these bottles of cognac, these shoes and these t-shirts on my behalf.

Ok…… Once we passed the customs control, the woman hurried to collect her goods, and she didn't even say thank you!!. I had made a first approach to the typical rudeness of Montenegrins; I would later have to experience other, even worse examples.

HOTEL SUTOMORE At the port exit there was the Site Manager waiting for me. A nice gentleman originally from Mantua: middle-aged, beard, open smile, had already been in Bar for several months with his wife and a few-month-old daughter in tow. He took me to the Hotel Sutomore, located in a village of a same name, a few kilometers north of Bar. The semi-deserted hotel given the season, a 9-storey building, was directly on the small but beautiful beach - the transparent sea reflected the sun of the afternoon that has just begun. It was lunch time, and after a shower, I went to the hotel restaurant, located on the mezzanine. Very large dining room, on Saturdays it was always occupied by receptions and weddings, with horseshoe tables, full of bottles of whiskey as per local custom. (Perhaps this is the reason why wedding dinners often resulted in furious arguments between relatives and friends?) I sat down in the half-empty room, took off my jacket and placed it on the back of the chair in front of me. The waiter, a young man around 20-22 years old, appeared out of nowhere, and without saying a word he took off his white jacket, took my jacket and put it on. -It's fine with me - he said, looking satisfied in the large window - how much do you want?

I looked at him astonished, with a mixture of surprise and anger and told him: it's not for sale, take it off immediately.

And he: but why not? Here all foreigners do this?!

''As well as? I said annoyed.

In the sense that they come wearing new things, sell them to us, and then leave again.

Well - I replied - I'm not "everyone" and I bought the jacket for myself - end of negotiation.

Oh well… if you say so….

What is there to eat? And here was the second unpleasant impact with another locals.

NIGHTCLUB Below the hotel there was a disco-dance hall. On Saturday evening it was packed, with a musical group that performed a Slavic variant of the rock songs popular in the 80s. The evenings inevitably ended in fights, to which alcohol, which was consumed in large quantities, made a substantial contribution. One evening I was at the entrance of the club, and an obviously drunk guy, with the help of a chair, demolished all the telephone booths positioned at the entrance of the club. I asked the girl at the checkout why no one called the police.

It's better not - she replied - things would take a worse turn - and in any case we know who he is, and the police will show up at his house around 5.00 am tomorrow, when he will be sleeping and will be unable to resist.

Ah… okay – I said.

OUR PROJECT The project consisted of the construction of a building for the Municipality of Bar, one to be use by the new Court, plus a school complex. Also included in the same contract were the rehabilitation of an analysis laboratory building in the hospital of Podgorica, 50 km inside Montenegro, as well as the capital of the state - The construction of a clinic in Ulcinj, 26 km south of Bar, the last city in Montenegro next to Albania border. In view of the supervision and some particular processes in which Italian labor was used, the bulk of the workers employed in the project were Yugoslavians. I noticed a detail that I remembered later, when the war broke out in Yugoslavia in the 1990s: carpenters, bricklayers, structure assemblers, were organized into ethnic groups (Slovenes – Serbs – Croats etc) and had no relationship between them. The construction time was from 7.00 in the morning to 2.00 in the afternoon - at 10.00 am there was a break, during which meals were consumed, sometimes cooked on site, with improvised barbecues. All the buildings were of a high standard, with continuous aluminum facades - the Bar complex stood out for a certain elegance, and the imprint of Italian design and materials immediately caught the eye.

THEFT ON CONSTRUCTION SITE Unfortunately the construction site had been the subject of a series of thefts, which essentially never stopped. An estimation made showed that the total value of the thefts amounted to the considerable sum of 870,000 USD. Several reports to the local authorities had brought only one result: one day we Italians were all summoned to the police station where they took our fingerprints. The Chief of Police told us that ''thieves don't exist in Yugoslavia, so it must be one of you who steals the materials''.

We had noticed - and photographed - that numbers of shacks buildings used as garages or warehouses had arisen in the vicinity of the construction site and beyond - all made with particular metal sheet that only VOLANI imported from Italy. One morning I arrived at the construction site very early, and I saw a man had loaded into a van some our anodized aluminum sheets - we used it as pillars cladding - I stopped him and asked him outright what he was doing: - Well – he replied – I saw these sheets of metal on the ground and I thought you didn't need them anymore.

Put them back where you found them – I told him

Okay… okay… no problem….

PODGORITZA Every now and then it happened that for work reasons I had to move to Podgoritza. The road first wound along the coast, and then inland, passing through Lake Skadar, the largest in the Balkan peninsula, which Montenegro shares with Albania. For lunch we used to stopp at a restaurant on the lake shore, where they served excellent fried carp. These gigantic fish were the result of cooperation between the then allies Albania and China: the Chinese had introduced millions of carp's fry into the lake, repopulating the waters which risked being left without fish. One morning we were going from Bar to Podgorica – me and a colleague of mine in two different cars. It was late November and very cold. It had rained during the night, and the morning frost had formed a thin film of ice on the road. Suddenly my colleague's car began a series of spins - I was following him closely, but luckily I managed to engage a low gear, and without touching the brakes I stopped on the edge of the road, also scraping the side of the Ritmo FIAT against the mountain rock that flanked the road. The colleague's car stopped in the middle of the road, with its nose facing against the direction of travel. I ran to help him get out of the car, just in time: another car arrived, the driver had lost control and crashed into my colleague's car! We realized that the situation had become very dangerous, and that we had to go to both sides of the road and try to signal the oncoming cars. Luckily the traffic was light at that time and we somehow managed to stop the traffic before anyone else ran into the two damaged cars. Then other drivers who arrived helped us to push the damaged cars towards a nearby dock. Once everything was over, and traffic was restored, the police arrived. First thing they asked me why we had moved the cars.

Because they were in the middle of the road, and represented a danger to other drivers – we replied.

No, said the policeman, you had to wait for our arrival, how can we do the investigations now?

Well, do as you like – my colleague told him.

But since the local police, when they meet a foreigner, always looked for every excuse to steal money, they gave us a report for having ''caused danger with dangerous driving''. And we had to pay immediately, otherwise the cars would be confiscated. So eventually we could leave that nightmare of wind and ice.

LIFE IN FORMER YOUGOSLAVIA IN '80. We stayed in Podgoritza for about two weeks, there was a need for a major overhaul in the work at the local hospital. Our Construction Manager had reached us and brought his family with him. His wife was desperately looking for diapers for her daughter, a rare commodity in Yugoslavia in 1982. Finally one day, through one of our local employees, the lady came into contact with a transporter who made frequent trips abroad and who had availability of otherwise unobtainable diapers. They met at a newsstand, generally in the early hours of the morning, and packs of diapers were wrapped in newspaper, so as not to arouse ''suspicions''. Annother day a colleague who had just returned from Italy told us that he had brought an 8 kilo bag of coffee. Unfortunately the coffee was in grains, therefore someone suggested to go to a small supermarket, where he had seen that there was a machine for grinding coffee near the cash registers. Very bad idea! While my colleague was inside the supermarket grinding the coffee, when by magic - perhaps attracted by word of mouth - dozens of local people showed up asking ''where is the coffee'…we heard that the coffee has arrived…'' The cashier said no that the coffee had not arrived (we learned that it had been missing from the supermarkets for some time) and that it had been brought by an Italian who had just arrived from Italy. But the crowd did not want believe it, and began to shout that it was ''the usual story of making the goods disappear and then selling them on the black market at increased prices''. My colleague, frightened by the crowd, didn't even finish grinding all the coffee and left the shop in a hurry, fearing for his own safety. In the meantime a couple of cars from the ''Milicija'' had arrived and quickly put an end to the uproar.

NOVEMBER 29TH - DAN REPUBLIKE PARTY

November 29th was a special day in the former Yugoslavia. Two important events in their history were celebrated: the second plenary session of the AVNOJ (Anti-fascist Council for People's Liberation of Yugoslavia) in 1943 and the first session of the Yugoslav Constituent Assembly in 1945. Propaganda via radio and TV had begun about ten days before , and it portrayed Germans and Italians as oppressors, occupiers of sacred Yugoslav soil, and responsible for countless war crimes. We had been instructed to keep a low profile, not leave the house or hotel in the evening, and to limit inspections on site as much as possible. Despite this, we suffered various provocations from the local authorities, until the day when a delegation from the Municipality of Bar held a remembrance ceremony inside the complex still under construction, where they had forced us to prepare a classroom complete with carpet and stage for the authorities. And so after having set up the classroom, the mayor gave a speech lasting almost two hours, during which he did nothing but insult Italy and Germany. The sovereignist and nationalist rhetoric still took root in a nation that would soon descend into a war which, as an Italian journalist said during the Yugoslav conflict ''was fought with the ferocity of ancient wars but with the lethal weapons of the era modern''.

A SAD STORY OF AN ITALIAN COLLEAGUE. There was this colleague, Adriano, a young man from Udine, who had been datinga beautiful local girl for some time. Adriano would be returning to Italy for a period of holidays, and was preparing for the return journey with his own car, with which he had reached Montenegro along the entire Adriatic coast. He asked his girlfriend's mother if he could take advantage of this trip to take her with him to Italy. Permission was granted, and on the morning of departure Adriano arrived early at the girl's house. At the honking of the horn the girl looked out from the balcony and urged Adriano to go up into the house. What happened a once the Italian boy entered the apartment it was never really clarified. From what we learned from Adriano it seems that his girlfriend's policeman brother had returned from Belgrade during that night, where he served. And had said he was against his sister's relationship with the Italian guy. The fact is that we were called around 10.00 am from the local emergency room, where Adriano had been admitted in a state of shock and with multiple fractures, especially in his face and upper limbs. A complaint was filed, but the local police, knowing who was involved in the beating, dropped the matter, classifying it as a ''Private Accident''. Adriano returned to Italy after 2 weeks in hospital, with an ambulance sent by VOLANI Rovereto.

WEEKEND's During weekends I always took the opportunity to visit the region around Bar. I have beautiful memories of Dubrovnik, a walled city built by the Venetians modeled on Venice but dry. Very beautiful and evocative is Svety Stefan, the islet connected to the coast where General Tito spent his holidays - Kotor, a picturesque fjord which during World War II was used to hide warships. Cavtat, a fishing town near Dubrovnik, where you could enjoy excellent fish and local wine. I also visited Cetinje, little more than a mountain town, birth placeof ''Jelena Petrović-Njegoš, princess of Montenegro, and then Queen of Italy'' following her marriage to Vittorio Emanuele III, King of Italy. At the time, Montenegro and Croatia showed great potential for tourism development, even if heavily penalized by the socialist system. In essence, the reception was modest, the infrastructure was missing or insufficient. With liberalization - and the arrival of the large international hotel chains - I believe that these shortcomings have been filled.

END of 1982 - ABANDONMENT OF THE PROJECT At the end of 1982, VOLANI decided to abandon the project in Montenegro, given the continuous thefts on the construction site, and the lack of payments by the Yugoslav Government. All Italians returned safely home for Xmas & New Year Holidays. I board a flight of then JAT Yugoslav Airlines, which reached Milan' Linate airport after a stop over in Sarajevo.

VISIT TO BAR IN 1984 In August 1984, on the way to a holiday in Greece, I did made a detour to see what had become of the Bar complex. Arriving near the former construction site, I found a disastrous situation: the project had been abandoned unfinished, the local population had wreaked havoc, stealing and dismantling everything they could. The unkempt grass reached up to the first of the 4 floors of what should have been the new town hall. Broken glass, false ceilings, doors, blown out windows, everything was in a state of abandonment. A disconcerting and somewhat incomprehensible vision. I didn't understand the reason why the local administration hadn't finished the project and taken the buildings into use, given that it was so close to finishing them.

[thedeathofgaea]

οι χαμένες σκηνές από τα δικά μας Μαγνητικά Πεδία

[glikozi]

Χαπακι για την ψυχοπαθεια σου παρε πας και σωθουμε.

to xapi auto onomazetai sotis volanis

[mostlygibberish]

I liked the part with the character smoking.

I chose to watch this completely at random, because the poster art looked interesting, and I was pleasantly surprised by what I found. A strangely beautiful movie, with a melancholy but hopeful tone. Certainly a product of the pandemic, with heavy themes of both loneliness and togetherness, and noticeably small scale production. 

It was shot on a camcorder, with overly saturated colours and pixelated zooms, which gave everything the feeling of watching home videos and vacation recordings. Lefteris Volanis' vaguely nostalgic title track perfectly matched this feeling. The scenery of the island they were on was often barren, but always gorgeous, and also played well with the lo-fi style.

Elena Topalidou and Antonis Tsiotsiopoulos were fantastic leads, which was a good thing considering they were the only real, named characters. Their dialogue seemed mostly (if not entirely) improvised, which is always a bold choice, but it did work here. Aside from a few contrived early moments, both delivered believable, natural performances that fit right in with the wistful tone of the movie and its lo-fi aesthetic.

A vague, meandering story, but in a positive way. A great little movie.

[maryrobinette]

My Favorite Bit: Beth Cato talks about A FEAST FOR STARVING STONE

Howard Andrew Jones is joining us today to talk about his novel, The City of Marble and Blood Here’s the publisher’s description: Gladiators, legionnaires, scheming sorcerers, and dark gods had battered Hanuvar but not stopped him. The great Volani general now returns to the land of his enemies! Hanuvar had pledged to find the remnants of his people, scattered into slavery across the whole of…

[scontomio]

💣 Estrattore Automatico Motore - Set di Strumenti per Pulegge e Volani 🤑 a soli 12,32€➡️ https://www.scontomio.com/coupon/estrattore-automatico-motore-set-di-strumenti-per-pulegge-e-volani/?feed_id=273124&_unique_id=66e1acc77a914&utm_source=Tumblr&utm_medium=social&utm_campaign=Poster&utm_term=Estrattore%20Automatico%20Motore%20-%20Set%20di%20Strumenti%20per%20Pulegge%20e%20Volani Scopri un set di strumenti professionali per la rimozione di pulegge, realizzato in acciaio al carbonio di alta qualità. Ideale per diverse marche di auto. #coupon #hlyjoon #autoemoto #offerteamazon #scontomio

[oxalistrichocalyx]

17.6.24

Ľahostajnosť vesmíru voči trápeniu jednotlivca ma nikdy neprestane udivovať. Človek môže mať v danom momente pocit, že sa rozpadáva na kúsky, že zaniká, no ráno opäť nad obzorom vychádza oranžové slnko, Zem sa naďalej točí po svojej vyznačenej dráhe, poriadok sveta zostáva nedotknutý. Agónia ľudskej bytosti je z jej pohľadu všepohlcujúca, je ako čierna diera, magnetická, sťahujúca do priepasti, do ničoty. Úplne človeka pohltí, zdecimuje a vypľuje jeho kosti a nestráviteľné kúsky oblečenia a kovu.

Chcela by som sa v nej stratiť, nechať sa úplne pohltiť. Odovzdať sa jej tiaži, pretože odolávať jej príťažlivosti je tak namáhavé - tak strašne ma to vyčerpáva, mám pocit, že už ďalej nevládzem. Keď tak strašne nalieha, nech sa tak stane - nech si ma vezme, pohltí, zabije, ukončí moje trápenie. No keď ma tak veľmi volá, keď ma tak láka, prečo som doteraz nebola stále schopná to urobiť? Myšlienky na koniec, večný odpočinok, ultimátny záver mojej existencie, prepad do temnoty - tie ma prenasledujú už roky, no aj na úplnom dne som to nikdy nedokázala urobiť. Aj keď som si myslela, že je to moja jediná spása, jediná úľava, ktorú kedy dosiahnem, túžba žiť sa vždy akosi predrala na povrch. Existencia ma tak strašne bolí, no je to môj primárny inštinkt, túžbu po živote zdieľam so všetkými živými organizmami - nedokážem pred ňou uniknúť ani na najbolestivejšom dne. Pretože akokoľvek veľmi si želám koniec bolesti, úmerná tejto túžbe je túžba po živote, radosti, láske, energii, spolupatričnosti. Som tak plná života, no zároveň ukrutnej bolesti, ktorú nedokážem niesť.

Niekedy mám pocit, že bolieť je môj prirodzený stav. Nedokážem pred ním nikam ujsť, a tak sa zdá, že odovzdať sa je jediná cesta, ako z toho von. Nechať sa úplne pohltiť, prejsť peklom ako odvážlivci, ktorí prechádzajú po ceste zo žeravých uhlíkov. Krst ohňom. Moja zúfalá túžba po živote ma dohnala len k útekovému správaniu, k závislostiam a obsesiám v beznádejnej snahe po úľave, ktorá ale neprichádza. Cítim, že je na čase zvoliť inú stratégiu. Pud smrti vo mne existuje zároveň s pudom života. Už roky pred smrťou utekám, no čo ak to nie je správna cesta? Možno preto tak vo svojej snahe tak zúfalo zlyhávam, pretože neustále utekám pred deštruktívnou stránkou svojej osobnosti, ktorú nedokážem predbehnúť, bez ohľadu na to, ako veľmi sa snažím. Pretože je rýchlejšia, silnejšia, prefíkanejšia; je to sila, ktorá existovala dávno predomnou a bude existovať ešte dlho po mne, je to omnoho viac, než výplod ľudskej mysle, je to sila prírody, ktorá odjakživa existuje na to, aby zlikvidovala to zastaralé a nefunkčné. Spolupracuje so životom, ktorý na skostnatelých ostatkoch mŕtvol vybuduje niečo nové, nové organizmy, ktoré, adaptované na nové životné podmienky dokážu prirodzene a v harmónii existovať na Novej Zemi.

Cítim jej volanie vždy, keď som triezva. Bolí ma to, tak strašne ma to bolí, ale to preto, pretože jej odolávam. Smrť, bez ohľadu na to, aké negatívne a hrôzu-vzbudzujúce prívlastky jej my, ľudské bytosti, priraďujeme, je nevyhnutnou súčasťou sveta. Bez jej účasti by život neexistoval. Spolupracujú spolu ako dokonale zohratí a rovnocenní partneri. Bez ohľadu na to, ako veľmi fandíme životu a odsudzujeme smrť, nemôžeme ju vyradiť z hry. Smrť očisťuje, vytvára prázdny priestor, kde môže život zasadiť niečo nové. No je zároveň temnotou, chladnou, čiernou, lepkavou, nechceme sa zdržiavať v jej prítomnosti. Nechceme ju nechať vykonať jej robotu, bojujeme s ňou, odolávame, prosíkame, vyhrážame, bijeme sa. No jej sila je nevyčerpateľná, neúprosná, prenasleduje nás všade, jej prítomnosť nedokážeme striasť. Bez ohľadu na to, akým spôsobom rozptýlime našu pozornosť, disociujeme sa, snažíme sa necítiť jej neustálu studenú pritomnosť za naším chrbtom - ona tam zostáva. A keď poľavíme, keď sa cítime už príliš vyčerpaní touto zúfalou naháňačkou, len vtedy dokážeme začuť jej sotva zreteľný šepot - "Je čas ísť. Preberiem tvoje bremeno. Patrí mne."

Prečo sa tak zúfalo držím svojho nákladu? Hľadám v ňom útechu, je jediným zmyslom identity, ktorý mám v tomto studenom svete, kde sa cítim, že nikam nepatrím. Keď sa oblečiem do svojej persóny, je ako ochranná zbroj, útočisko pred strachom, posudzovaním, odmietnutím. Kým budem bez nej? Budem tak zraniteľná, celý svet uvidí, ako strašne sa ho bojím, ako strašne hlboko sa ma dotýkajú jeho slová, sú ako dýky, ktoré ma bodajú priamo do srdca.

[thenerdynarrative]

The legendary Volani war general has returned to the land of his greatest enemy to continue his mission of freeing his people from slavery. #SwordAndSorcery lovers - seriously, you need to check this series out! #Quotes #BookQuotes #TheCityOfMarbleAndBlood #HowardAndrewJones

[azurexaiya]

16.3.2023 No 28. Slovak translation.

Out of all things

Tha call of language that is familiar

But says nothing

In the rythm of the voice of a beggar

It echoes into depths of the city

Into corners of soul

I have found knowledge in the end

I don't know why I live

Petals of flowers dissapear

In the greyness of snow

Time is changing

Rusty writings of walls

Glow the colors of noisy halogen

I'm swimming in the shallows

Of my impoverished nous

How is it possible, that it used to be deeper?

I already have twenty three years of poems

And I wrote all of them

Out of all things, I became a poet

Because out of all the things I have chosen all of them

Zo všetkých vecí

Volanie jazyka čo mi je známy

No nehovorí mi nič

V rytme hlasu žobráka

Ozýva sa do hlbín miest

Do zákutí duše

Našiel som poznanie prec

Neviem prečo žijem

Lupene kvetov miznú

V závejoch šedého snehu

Čas sa mení

Hrdzavé nápisy stien

Žiaria farbami hučiaceho halogénu

Plavím sa v plytčinách

Svojho úbohého rozumu

Čím to je, že kedysi býval hlbším?

Už mám dvadsaťtri rokov básní

A ja som napísal všetky z nich

Zo všetkých vecí, stal sa zo mňa básnik

Lebo zo všetkých vecí vybral som si všetky z nich

[stranotizie]

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[bu1410]

''Mr. Plant has owed me a shoe since July 5, 1971." - Chapter IV.a - March 5th, 2024

Some photos of Iraq I've taken on 1983. We can recognize Baghdad, - Nassiryah - Ur - Euphrates river.

IRAQ 1983 In January 1983 I was then informed that my new destination would be Nasiryah, Iraq. I left for Rome, and then in Fiumicino - late in the afternoon - I boarded an old Boing 707 of IRAQI Airways, the only company still serving Baghdad: the war with Iran was underway, and the international airlines had suspended flights to Iraq. Baghdad airport was only open at night, so we landed with the lights off, and when we began the descent towards the landing strip we were ordered to darken the windows. Having completed the customs and immigration procedures quite quickly (considering the fact of being in an Arab country and in a state of war) I went out into the deserted hall, where I easily saw the sign with my name hoisted by a local driver. He took me to a hotel on Sadoun street, in a ghostly Baghdad: all the lights were off, very few vehicles were circulating, security forces checkpoints at every intersection.

DEPARTURE FOR NASSIRYAH The next day the Project Manager – a tall, lanky Italian, with an unkempt beard – came to pick me up at the hotel. He told me to pack my bags, we would leave for Nassiryah immediately by car, since domestic flights were suspended due to the war. Our destination was 380 km away from Baghdad, and the highway was damaged by the continuous passage of military vehicles heading South, to the border with Iran. Just outside Baghdad, we passed alongside a high earth barrier, a couple of kilometers long: inside, it was explained to me, the Tammuz nuclear plant, destroyed by an Israeli air force incursion in June 1981. The journey was monotonous, and we only stopped once to refuel and eat shawarma. We arrived in Nasiryah in the late afternoon, and immediately checked into one of the two villas that VOLANI had rented for the expats. Here, towards the evening, I met my Italian colleagues: around ten people in total, which would soon be reduced to 5 given that the project was in the finishing phase.

THE PROJECT In essence it involved the rehabilitation of a plant for the production of electrical cables. When I arrived, in January 1983, the work was almost finished. All that was missing was the installation of a heavy overhead crane in the main warehouse, the completion of the new electrical system, the covering and infilling of some buildings. In consideration of the recent departures, and the fact that there were only 5 expatriates left, it was decided by the Management in Baghdad that we would leave one of the two rented villas, and concentrate on just one. I received the instruction from the Project Manager to rent couples of trailers locally, load the furniture and air conditioners owned by the Company present in villa No. 2, and ship everything to the warehouse in Baghdad. Having rented the trailers (far from a simple matter in a country in a state of war), they were accompanied to the villa and dismantling and loading operation began. I was at construction site, it was already a hot afternoon even though it was only the beginning of March, when I saw in distance a guy dressed in a Western style, jacket, white shirt and black tie. He was chatting with a local worker, who was nodding in my direction. When they got close, the guy – clearly a policeman – asked me:

Are you the boss here?

Yes – I replied – what do you need?

Come with me – he said in a tone that allowed no replies. I followed him in my pick up until we arrived in the parking lot of a low building, steel bars on the windows. The policeman motioned for me to follow him. We entered the building, there were cops everywhere, and photographs of bad guys sticked to the walls, with writings in Arabic indicating how much money the police would pay if information was given leading to their capture. I was taken to the office of the Commander, Mr. Abdul Karim Al Jalaani. The office was enormous, the Commander sat behind a large mahogany desk installed on a riser. I was made to sit on an Arab sofa, at the other end of the room, I was perhaps fifteen meters away from Major Al Jalaani. He looked at myself like you look at an insect, and then he said to me in English:

Are you the one who gave the order to vacate my villa that I rented there?

I organized the transport - I said - but the order left from Baghdad.

Good - he replied - I stopped the transport, come back here as soon as possible with your managers, the ones who gave you the order to vacate the house without my permission. Major's assistant, who had remained near the door, motioned for me to follow him. I went out into the street, breathing a sigh of relief: I had just entered and exited the headquarters of the so-called ''Mukabarat'' or Saddam Hussein's Secret Service, and I was still alive and in a good shapel! I went to the villa, and saw the trailers parked on the corner of the street - the watchman came to meet me:

Sir - he told me - we were loading the furniture, when a car with some policemen arrived - they stopped us and then asked what we were doing - I said that we were loading our furniture to send it to Baghdad - they ordered us to stop and they said:

''If one of these trucks dares to move we will arrest everyone''

Understood Sir?? We couldn't disobey, Sir – these people don't joke!

I understand, I understand, don't worry.

I went to the Central Post Office, I absolutely had to call the Baghdad office. In the old post office, a building with broken glass, dirty and with peeling walls, there was no one except the employees. I was able to get through the Baghdad office pretty quickly. I explained to the PM what had happened - he tried to reassure me, and I told him that I wasn't worried at all.

Be sure - he said - tomorrow evening I will be in Nassiryah and we'll solve the problem.'' And so it was: in the evening the Project Manager arrived at the villa, accompanied by the head of our security service, a tall and large Iraqi, who had been a comrade in arms of the Major of Nassiryah Mukabarat. The next morning at 10.00 we were in the mega office of Major Al Jalaani. The meeting between the former comrades was warm: kisses on the cheeks, hugs, pats on the back, questions about the health of the family members, and then more hugs and then questions about the health of the family members all over again……Then we sat down on the usual sofa at 15 meters from the Major's desk, while the two old friends went on talking about old times, they exchanged phrases of which the PM and I understood nothing, and then burst into resounding laughter. All this for more than half an hour, then our Head of Security said, as if by chance:

Ahh sorry…Abdul Karim……by the way …I came to see you after so many years yes…but also for that stupid matter of the rented villa…you know…the one we want to leave…you know?

Abdul Karim as if falling from the clouds: ''Ah yes yes… I was informed by one of my collaborators that there were trailers ready to take away the furniture… but this is not done my friend… you should have warned, right?

You are perfectly right akooya (brother) but you know these Westerners don't always know what our customs are, so I ask you as the brother you are, to forgive them from the height of your goodness that everyone recognizes in you (How could he be the head of the Secret Services and being ''good'' no one has ever explained it to me)

Sure, sure - replied Abdul Karim - but you agree that there are conditions to be respected so that everything can be settled, right?

Of course akooya – said our Chief of Security.

Well - the Commander continued - come closer and I'll tell you what these conditions are (I didn't understand this, they could have continued to speak to each other ''remotely'' in Arabic, given that neither I nor the PM understood what they said to each other when they spoke their language)

The Head of Security sat down on a chair immediately prepared by the Major's attendent, and so began a dense exchange of sentences, which our friend only interspersed with ''naam…naam'' (yes…yes) Then it all ended, we got up and with big bows, touching our hearts with our right hand as a sign of ''how good of you to receive us and you didn't even let us get whipped'' we left the police station. In the car, our Head of Security informed us of the ''conditions'' posed by the Major to ''forget'' the nasty rudeness we had tried to do to him, taking away OUR furniture and OUR air conditioners from his villa, where we paid 6,000 USD /month rent + all expenses, including security. (We suspected that it was the watchman who alerted the police that the trailers had arrived for the move). Well for 4 additional months in cash, the complete re-painting of the house (exterior/interior/surrounding wall) and OUR air conditioners, the Commander would have forgiven our ''offence''. The PM muttered "WTF......" but we had to put on a good face because there were no alternatives. The next day - once all the furniture had been loaded onto the trailers - the painting work began, under the supervision of an Al Jalaani representative.

[biela-magia]

Deepak Chopra, M.D. a Rudolph E. Tanzi, PhD.: Léčivé já

Deepak Chopra je autor, s ktorým sme sa už stretli pri knihách Sedem duchovných  zákonov úspechu, alebo Vnitřní síla a svoboda a milosrdenství. Rudolph E. Tanzi je profesorom neurológie a objaviteľ génov, ktoré spôsobujú Alzheimerovu chorobu.

Nosnou myšlienkou knihy je ľudské zdravie a možnosti, ako sa mu venovať tým najsprávnejším spôsobom. Základom tohoto prístupu k sebe je vedieť, že človek nie je len fyzickým telom s mysľou a dušou. Ale hlavné je uvedomiť si, že tieto tri základné časti sa nedajú od seba oddeliť. Vzájomne sa prelínajú a jedna do druhej zapadajú, tvoriac jedinečnú bytosť. 

Tu sme vlastne pri podstate nájdenia cesty k trvalému zdraviu. V dnešnej dobe plnej náhlenia a stresu je tou najistejšou hľadanie a nájdenie svojho liečivého JA. Každý ho máme v sebe, len sa k nemu dostať a začať ho používať. Ak sa nám to podarí stávame sa liečiteľom sebe samému. Vôbec to však nie je jednoduché. Autori  dôrazne upozorňujú a vyzývajú, že ak sa ohlási akékoľvek ochorenie musíte vyhľadať lekársku pomoc.

Zaoberajú sa prístupom lekárov k ľuďom z hľadiska ich profesionálnych možností. Lekári sú častokrát pod tlakom nedostatku času na dôkladné vyšetrenie pacienta. Chorý človek veľakrát ani nevie poriadne popísať, ako sa cíti, čo mu robí potiaže. Vtedy aj najšikovnejší lekár zlyháva a liečba sa míňa účinkom.

Kto nás pozná najlepšie? Nuž odpoveď je úplne jednoduchá: “Každý sám seba.” Telo je múdre a veľakrát signalizuje problém. Záleží však na tom, ako ho dokážem počúvať. Ak to robím, stávam sa vedomou bytosťou a začínam žiť svoj život úplne iným spôsobom. Tu sa dá nájsť bohatstvo vedomého života. Následne dochádza ku skončeniu utrpenia a človek zisťuje, že hoci sa bolestné skúsenosti vyskytujú, nepretrvávajú ako utrpenie. Fyzická bolesť jestvuje ako pocit, ktorý nie je prekliatím, ale podnetom k uzdraveniu.

V druhej časti knihy ponúkajú autori program na vedomú zmenu pre každého človeka: Uzdravte sa práve teraz. Má sedem bodov, ktoré pričleňujú k dňom v týždni. Pozornosť venujú - protizápalovej strave, - zmierneniu stresu, - starnutiu, - cyklu dňa v zmysle práce, pohybu i oddychu a spánku, - vnútornému presvedčeniu, - koncu bojov, - evolúcii.

Počúvajme volanie svojho liečivého JA. Oplatí sa to. Venujme si pozornosť v dnešnej intenzívnej dobe. Zvoľme si mier namiesto rozporu, uvedomenie namiesto popierania, lásku namiesto nelásky. 

Je len a len na každom z nás, či ostane vo svojom strede s pocitom úplného bezpečia. Uvedomenie si radosti a naplnenia, ktoré taký život prináša. Môžeme tiež zistiť, že zmena nie je ohrozením, a starnutie a smrť sú bezvýznamné. Následne skončia konflikty so sebou samým i s druhými ľuďmi.

Takýto prístup k životu osloví každého. A ak toto umocníme každodennou meditáciou výhra je naša.

Túto knihu odporúčame každému človeku, ktorý je na svojej ceste za poznaním.

[homiletickedirektorium]

Pondelok, 27. marca

Pán hovorí: “Videl som biedu môjho ľudu a počul som jeho volanie o pomoc pred jeho utláčateľmi. Viem o jeho utrpení a preto som zostúpil, aby som ho vyslobodil.” (Ex 3,1-15 )

[iltuoshoponline]

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[maryrobinette]

My Favorite Bit: Howard Andrew Jones talks about THE CITY OF MARBLE AND BLOOD

Howard Andrew Jones is joining us today to talk about his novel, The City of Marble and Blood Here’s the publisher’s description: Gladiators, legionnaires, scheming sorcerers, and dark gods had battered Hanuvar but not stopped him. The great Volani general now returns to the land of his enemies! Hanuvar had pledged to find the remnants of his people, scattered into slavery across the whole of…