THE ISLAND OF MLJET … pure gold 'Mediterranean'

An olive press

Mljet is one of over a thousand islands in Dalmatia, governed by Croatia (Republika Hrvatska).  The people on the island see themselves as belonging to Dalmatia, more so than to Croatia: they say they have experienced more Italian influence, than Slavic or Turkish.  I’m told that the dialect on the islands and that of mainland Croatia are distinctly different, and the peoples have to listen carefully to catch each other’s meaning.

It’s October 29 and I have been sitting in the sun all day (20C) watching the butterflies and bumblebees; and listening to the birds sing.  There are the little yellow ones that I met in Ibiza, chirping away; and a new one I have just noticed… a grey-brown sparrow sized bird with a red throat and upper chest, maybe yellow under the tail, as sweet singing as a robin.  I have also seen my first Praying Mantis, known here by a name that says, ‘praying woman’… a woman giving thanks, since she eats the male after copulation.  (Upon hearing the interpretation, I must admit I laughed… apparently most women do).  My small cottage (8ft X 16ft) is set in an olive grove; amongst old terracing; at the west-end of the old village of Babino Polje.

 My cottage

 The village Babino Polje

I walk out each morning and stand on the terracing, still in awe, even after a stay of 2 weeks.  Each terracing wall (and there are thousands! all over the island) is about 3 ½ ft wide and 2-4 ft high.  I used to think that the stones making such walls were all about the same size.  But no… the same sized rocks are used for the facing, while inside the wall there is every size of stone… many about an inch.  Can you imagine! Picking up all those stones?

Terraces

 

 Close up of a terrace 

Like most of the islands in the Mediterranean… Adriatic/Aegean it matters not… it is rocky, though fertile.  It just takes some sifting to set aside the rock!  The olive trees dominate here, but there is also the almond, orange (small mandarin type), fig, pomegranate; and then there are the grape vines; the goats; and the beehives (Mljet is a derivative of the Roman word for honey).  It is Mediterranean. If the crop-producing trees are not tended, the indigenous pine proliferates again, with a scattering of cypress, a unique small oak tree and a wide variety of low bushes.  On this island, now only 700 people, many of the groves have reverted to pine.  Not only has the population been reduced from its high of 2000+ in the 19^th & early 20^th C; but people are giving up on the old life… tending trees, gardens, and animals is hard work.  These days, most everyone of a working age is earning by working for the government, or by the tourist trade.  There are still olive groves, and in good years there is a commercial production.  The rest of the crops and production from livestock are for use in the home or sold to the tourist.

Fish still seem bountiful.  A couple of evenings ago as I sat by the bay eating dinner at a restaurant in Sorbu, I watched an old (late 60’s!! at least) fisherman untangle his net. 

 Sitting at restaurant

He was still at it when my dinner was over and I was leaving.  There he was … standing in his boat (rowboat size), his weight on one leg with the other leg propped on the side of the boat, keeping it all steady, while he was bent over the bow, pulling the net up from below and gently tossing it (a handful at a time), setting the net in order for the next day’s haul.  That’s work:  it was 6pm when I left the bayside restaurant; his day started about 6am.  The nets are usually set at night and catches come in quite early in the day.  These are not commercial fishermen, if there is more than the fisherman can use himself, he will offer it to others.  I was lucky enough to receive a plate load the other day:  fresh sardines!  My host gave me some of his home pressed olive oil for the cooking… lightly fried in a hot! pan.  SO! Good.

Still almost alive...

...now almost gone.

Everything I have been given has been SO! good:  homemade sherry (which is actually a cherry liquor); local small sweet oranges; home pressed olive oil; homemade flat bean soup with a locally made bacon and ‘hard’ sausage; local honey with a taste so special I can’t get enough; and homemade bread.  My hosts, Ante and Zora, are wonderfully generous.  Every day I have received:  a gift of food, of books in English! of movies (downloaded by their daughter), an invitation to join them for coffee or lunch; as well as a shower of local knowledge.  Ante has walked in every direction and knows all paths; Zora grew up in the village, inheriting this property from her grandmother.

The village houses… over 300 yrs old

Main road through village

They raised their children here and ‘the kids’ are now in their thirties.  Everything is happily provided.  I want for nothing:  even the ‘rice milk’ I need (which is not carried by the island markets) turned up on my patio chair.  I have not found out ‘the how’ yet, but my guess is that someone in Dubrovnik was asked to put it on the ‘fast boat’, which arrives daily about 2:30p).

Having described all this wonderful food, it was not a good year for produce:  no rain from May to late October.  The figs fell off the trees; there are few olives, so no ‘pressing’ this year; and the pomegranates split open prior to ripening…  remaining sour.  To have to rely on the land is hard, let alone to work it.  No one wants to return to the old ways.  I am lucky, to be still benefitting from the old ways… people in the village know about goats, chickens, bee keeping, olive and grape pressing.  The Mediterranean food is naturally good; and it is a food we naturally seem to devour with great pleasure.  Regardless of its simplicity it always seems like an indulgence.   Beyond the sun and soil, I think there is a knowledge that also makes a difference… these people on the island are not just old masters, they are descendent from old masters.  All this knowledge of harvesting and preparation is ‘in the blood’; they have lived it for hundreds of years.  The Life of the Mediterranean is pure ‘gold’.

The olive groves

I do love it!  It seems quite natural to ‘Live’ in the Mediterranean… what I mean is that it is so natural, it is like an old glove:  Marvelously comfortable.  This is my second stay on a Mediterranean island this year:  Mljet and Ibiza, so different yet both so nourishing.  Ibiza still has its’ beautiful nature, though it is well developed; Mljet is 1/3 National Park and the old villages remain undeveloped, some incorporating old Roman ruins. 

300 year old house, using Roman ruins as foundation; in Polace

Roman arch in Pomena

A stay on Mljet is closely connected to the old ways; a stay on Ibiza the old and the new beautifully intertwined.  Ibiza is a vacation destination, though quiets after ‘the Season’.  On Mljet there are no small cities; no large hotels; no beautiful architecturally designed homes.  Mljet is quiet most of the time, with a relatively small influx of visitors in the summer.  On Ibiza there are 65 beaches; on Mljet there are, at least, 65 churches… many in ruin, most built in the 16^th  & 17^th Century.

Church steeple, common on Mljet

 Saint Marija

 Mljet does have a few beaches, and there is good swimming off rocky cliffs, or in saltwater lakes in the National Park.  The water is equally as warm.  It really! is the Mediterranean though it is located in the Adriatic.  

 Cove where fishing boats are kept

 View of cliffs

Ibiza warms your heart! Mljet strikes as deeply, drawing you into the poetic.  It is said to be a mystical place.  Just 20 minutes walk from where I am staying you can find Odysseus’ cave!  THEY say.  Then there is the Romanesque monastery, built on Roman ruins, on an island in the middle of the largest of the salt-water lakes.  Talk about atmosphere.  Imagine living in a hermitage on an island, in the middle of a large lake. You cannot see where the water enters from the sea; you are amongst mountains, though there are other lakes and channels proliferating just beyond your view.  Often when you look toward the island from shore you cannot see it, the light is wrong, or there is a slight mist.  You strain to find it: gone one minute, there the next.

Monastery in lake

 Architecture of monastery

 I was reminded of Iona and the old, isolated hermitages of the Hebrides.

Please forgive me.  I am going to put in a quote from a Dalmatian writer, V. Nazor, writing about the Dalmatian island of ‘Brac’ (2 islands to the north, closer to Split).  I am including it not so much because of what he says, but how he says it.  He is a beautiful, poetic writer.  His poetry is the feel one gets on this island:

“But true history is something else.  There are histories without storms with flashing lightning and rumbling thunder seen and heard from afar; there is also a quiet history which flows along the bed of time like a river that knows of no waterfalls, whirlpools and floods, yet full of life, full of events, the more tragic they are the less noise they make.  It is to the latter kind that the history of Brac belongs.

… here human destiny unwinds and flows along peacefully and quietly and yet… too often perhaps… full of long, hard struggles, struggles that could be cruel and merciless.  A drop of blood spilt by anyone, once and for ever, cries to the sky and everybody hears that cry; the river of sweat that flows for centuries down the brows of countless generations is soaked up by the mute earth and soundlessly disappears.  The cry of anger is heard from afar, the sigh of suffering dies without an echo.

Which sort of history is more difficult to grasp, discover, study, describe?  That of blood or that of sweat?  The answer to this is easy:  the history of that which does not clamour with colour and noise, which is quiet, continuous and everyday, the deep foundation and the even deeper root of human events.  This is history!  True human history!  But it is much more difficult to write about this than about the other.”

BRAC.  Simunovic, Peter, dr.  Graficki zavod Hrvatske. Zagreb.  pg. XXX11

(In his later years Nazor expressed his gratitude to this island, accustomed to thirst:  “Thank you, waterless isle, for having taught me to thirst and long for something all my life.  Brac, 1940.)

 

Old terraced olive grove

By the way, Brac had a population 12,900 in the 1970’s; and has many more tourists than Mljet, accommodating 15,000 visitors at any one time.  I have learned about Brac because my hosts, Ante and Zora, were caretakers of a Hermitage on the island of Brac during the 1970’s.  They left because it was getting too crowded.  Ante says the isle of Mljet is more mystical, so even more poetic… there is ‘something’ quite unseen that starts to inhabit your soul (those are my words).  It truly grows on you… leaving its’ deeply serene and peaceful mark.  ‘Serpentine’ is the word used on the island’s roads to designate the ‘S’ curve… subtly sly and tempting.

 Island road

Whether it is the shaded olive groves; the 300 year, old stone houses and churches; or the vistas that seeps into you, I am unable to tell.  A couple of days ago I once again took the long road SE across the mountainous spine of the island, to arrive at a soft and sandy beach, an unusual phenomenon on these rocky isles. On this narrow, mountain isle you drive on the side of the mountain wherever you go.  There are few guard rails; you are high on the mountainside; and it matters not if the road veers to the north or to the south you are presented with a stunning vista.  To the north it is the inner sea with coastlines, coves, and islands; to the south it is all sea… eventually a horizon. You cannot drive on the south side of the island without the eye being pulled into the distance… the peace of the savannah is stirred, yet it is over water to where there is a subtle line blue on blue.  A long horizon where there might even be a curvature, the fluidity of the two taking you… into eternity.

Vista from mountain

I have a friend whose son-in-law has a house on an island just south of here; my Victoria travel consultant’s in-laws sail these waters every summer.  The Dalmatian Coast is one of those well-kept secrets.   I think it is pure gold!  It is the gold of sunlight; of honey; of olive oil; of white wine from yellow grapes:  The Golden Life of the Mediterranean. Mljet, though not glamorous, is definitely worthy of your respect, definitely worthy of a glimpse.   BUT! I bet it would demand more of you. It marks you.

PS… Ante invited me to lunch yesterday, my last Sunday on the island.  As the front door opened I walked into the room, and stood very still as I faced the back wall which is usually covered by blankets and curtains.  Today the gold velvet curtains were tied back, revealing an inner fire room (not place… there is bench seating).  I saw an inner sanctum… of a Hindu temple.  It wasn’t.  There was hot ash in a small mound, on the floor, at the back of the room.  I thought it was the evening fire, rain was expected.  It was not, it was our lunch roasting under those coals: lamb, chicken, potatoes… with rosemary.  I shall remember the lunch, so delicious:  the lamb, mild! and juicy.  The flavor was unforgettable… not just a baking, a baking under hot ash which melds the flavors into a distinct dish.  More than the food, however, I will never forget that inner sanctum: a ‘Cave of the Heart’, where the dark and light are but one.  I fell into an altered state, silent for quite some time.  My words, I know, are inadequate.  

 Sunset across the saltwater lake...monastery just visible in the shadows.

The rest of the photos from Croatia can be found at this link: Croatian Slideshow

‘Wandering In London’ … and the movie title, ‘Killer Elite'

Skyline from the London Eye...

I had unscheduled time and found myself, feeling a bit stunned, climbing aboard a double decker (the unconscious having it’s say): “Top deck, please!”  It was a sunny, very warm fall day and I was about ‘to do’ a London tour.  This is my 5^th 10-day stay in London over the past year.  Usually, I just wander.  Yes, I have taken in some of the sights e.g., the stables at Buckingham Palace!  But the wandering has been primarily to linger in the British Museum and Library; to peruse bookstores by London University; to hop on a boat heading up the Thames from Greenwich, to watch the sun setting over London; to stroll Hampstead Heath in a London drizzle; and to meander the many treed squares around London… particularly Russell Square, near my hotel and the British Museum.

Crossing Russell Square

I can travel the tube anywhere to find family, friends, shops and restaurants: from ‘The Ritz” to Crouch End to Brixton to Bloomsbury to Notting Hill.  I can get to any airport using a combination of tubes; taxies; trains… bus expertise coming more slowly. Finally, it seemed, I was to discover London on a bus tour.

There was a little bit of history… a limerick about the brides of Henry the 8^th; statues of Generals here and there; Cleopatra’s Needle; the Tower of London with one or two comments on famous imprisonments or deaths; old buildings where some of the famous historical figures were born/or lived… the first London pub (mid 1500’s?).  But for the most part it was about the marvelous architecture of ‘NEW’ London, including ‘The London Eye’ (three! times we were directed to find it in the view from our bus). 

The London Eye

the financial district, and Fleet Street.  London is about business! success! AND having fun! it seems.  The new millennium architecture is very articulate.

We also saw the fabulous hotels and residences of the ‘Rich and Famous’… the Queen does her business in Buckingham Palace, but spends her weekends in Windsor Castle; Elizabeth Taylor stayed here for 3 of her marriages; Prince Charles lives… Margaret Thatcher lives… here is 10 Downing Street.  Through the West End we went:  looking at all the white Edwardian town houses… very beautiful.  London is a rich city.

The British Portrait Gallery, the Modern Art Gallery, and the British War Museum were pointed out on the way through town. WW 2 was mentioned, briefly… “This wall is one of the few places left, where you can still see shrapnel scars.”  (I think it was the one part of the tour that touched me.) The tour guide became most enthusiastic when he could share the London we all know through TV:  “There! is where MI 5 was located… now here is the secret (but not!) MI 6; AND the New! Scotland Yard.”  This was not Sherlock Holmes’ London. 

The tour was designed to tell us about an exciting London, now preparing for the 2012 Olympics!  Roads dug up everywhere… the streets around Paddington Station and Piccadilly Circus have been a mess for 2 years. Dozens… hundreds? of buildings are decked out in scaffolding… WHERE! are they getting it all?  A multitude of cranes decorate the skyline.  London has history; London has its rich and famous; and London has changed.  That damn ‘London Eye’… three views of it in one afternoon… I still don’t like it.  I’m always left with a grumpy feeling.  (Guess IT touched me too.)

It is a new London, even though the medieval lurks, somehow ghostlike in the pavement just behind you!  And it is taking me quite some time to adjust to it. It was a disappointment, at first.  It is not the London of my mystery books and 1930’s novels:  London is no longer for the ‘British’ (the Oxford and Cambridge British or the British villager or the London ‘Cockney’). 

Hotel Russell on Russell Square (Old London)

My enthusiasm grew slowly, though. I gradually began to take note that it is an ‘International City’… full of every ethnic group and Nationality one can imagine!  It is a city chalk-a-block full of energy and the ‘London Life’ grips everyone, regardless of ‘home’ origins. I like this aspect of London:  seeing such a variety of faces before me; languages from all over the world.  Everyone talking!

International London is intense:  The young 20 & 30 year olds are hard at work during long days, and hard at play in the London clubs at night… high energy… dressed to the hilt, ready to party.  That’s what we see on TV, and that’s what I see and hear on the streets and in the tube.  They DO drink!  How do they do it!?  The new millennium is alive… pumping! in London.  London has a ton of young people. 

London does grip… as all big cities do.  At this point in history, it is intense and flying high.  You know, I have never stay internally focused for long, when I have stayed in London.  I muse (and mumble), but I am busy and seldom write anything during my stays.   The OLD haunts; and the NEW pumps:  It is a strange combination.

The new London skyline

Back to my title:  The title of these ‘Musings’ includes the title of a new movie that opened in London this October… a red bus with an advertisement in bright yellow and black flashed the ‘eye catching’ words, as I stood waiting at a cross walk:  “Killer Elite”.  I was shocked:  “Kill the Elite”!  This was the same day that I took the bus tour.  I thought it left me a little flat; yet, I misread this movie title taking it out of the standard, violent, action film realm and putting it into the realm of revolution.  I was stunned when I saw the words, and stunned again when I realized I had misinterpreted them.  I do know my rebellious, anti-establishment side.  It sure had been awakened.   I walked slowly, probably mumbling, down the street toward a string of restaurants, to look at the choices for dinner that evening. There was quite a string: French; Italian; Vietnamese, Turkish, an elegant, ‘smart’ fusion of some sort… no British ‘fish & chips’.

Britain has the worst unemployment in 30 years. Where are the old people, and those who are not very healthy?  The tubes and streets are much too demanding for anyone who is disoriented or wobbly:  crossing the streets requires close attention to very confusing signs, and speed! and getting up and down all the stairs to tubes takes incredible endurance!  (I do notice the aching knees and hips!)   London is also about the disenfranchised in all cultures; about poverty in all cultures; unemployment in all cultures; as well as, the young and ‘elite’ in all cultures.

  

 I was on Ibiza when I saw the recent (September) London riots:  Young people on a rampage:  A real wantonness.  There seemed no real aim.  It reminded me of the recent hockey riot in Vancouver.  The group mentality just seemed to take over.  Perhaps I didn’t need to see the words, ‘Killer Elite’, because there actually is a discombobulating feeling underlying the ‘Good Life’.  The words just brought it into focus for me.

Movie Poster

“Killer Elite” is a harsh combination of words.  No matter how you read it, there is violence in the air.

So London, after several visits and much wandering; first disappointed then enthused; has now caught my attention with harsh words.  Harsh is an aspect of London, of course.  It is energetic, enthusiastic, fun and exciting and it is a good example of the new millennium.  But, not surprisingly, all this intensity does have its’ harsh edge.  I see the ‘The London Eye” symbolizing something more than ‘a BIG and FUN city’.  What I see is the ‘ferris wheel’ from our childhood,  and the ‘toughs’ that ran them.

That which provides a symbol for the NEW London, replacing ‘Big Ben’ (‘Father Time’? Paternalism?) is also a “fun” symbol from our past: the ‘Funland –Playland - Gayway’ strips.  But my memory is that there was something tacky about them.  They symbolized the age-old conundrum:  “Have fun! but watch ‘the toughs’ who give you the ‘come-on’ smile!” London is BIG & FUN:  and its’ combination of power and materialism is particularly seducing. 

This harsh ‘edge’ seems more palpable here in London, than in multi-cultural and often violent New York, Istanbul, or Amsterdam.  In my musings, I finally settled into a sense that today’s London seemed closer to the feelings I get in Singapore.  Singapore also has an incredibly long and haunting history; and today’s Singapore is also ambitious.  Its financial buildings are the pulsating core of the city.  At Singapore’s new ‘Museum of Civilization’, the guide is proud to take you to a lovely big round window (in the old British colonial building which houses the museum), that faces ‘the might’ of Singapore’s financial district… a huge number of impeccably designed steel and glass towers.  The guide enthusiastically tells you Singapore is ‘the financial center’ for all the countries from Istanbul to Japan, including India and China.  The rich river delta, you are told, has been a port of commerce throughout the ages.  Now! its hinterland is the whole of modern Asia.  Clearly, nothing in the museum was more important than the view from that window.  I was stunned.  Like the British museum, it was a museum full of stories from a multitude of civilizations.

Mummies in the British Museum

My wanderings continue:  watching and sensing what is in the air.  I try to stay open…  and I can feel the enthusiasm.  But it gets overshadowed. In India, and more recently on Ibiza, in Spain I found books to read… filling in background and flushing out the current ‘winds of time’.  Here I am, even after perusing many bookstores, still looking for a book about London to catch my eye… not just pictures of the new millennium architecture.  (grumpy)  Maybe I have just missed it.  So far, I have only the highly charged, action oriented TV series; the ‘BBC News’; and bus advertisements to rely on for a perspective.   

Oddly enough, however, shortly after my bus tour and sighting the words, “Killer Elite”, a book did come to light.  As it ‘happened’, I came upon a commemorative service for Ghandi’s birthday, in Tavistock Square opposite my hotel.  I paused to watch:  a touch of India!  I can still be entranced by India.  The speeches emphasized Ghandi’s “Moral Politics”:  politics based on understanding the human being, not on ideas; or on succumbing entirely to the use of power.

Celebration of Ghandi's birthday in Tavistock Square

Not a phrase of Ghandi’s that I remembered.  As I listened, I got excited:  a form of politics based on understanding the human being!  I actually watched the whole ceremony.  It left me wondering, “Was this some British-India history that I had missed!  Was this phrase remembered particularly this year because it expressed something currently ‘in the air’!  Was it just a re-working of Ghandi’s philosophy and more romantic! liberalism?  It is easy to be pulled by the romantic.”

Like pretty leaves in a fountain...

LATER…    As I leave London and arrive on the Dalmatian Coast, a friend in India has emailed (responding to my email about the Ghandi celebration) to tell me that the Ramana  Maharshi Ashram has just! announced a new English translation of a book on Ghandi.  (Coincidentally, it is translated by an acquaintance, known to many as a saint, KVS).  This new publication can be purchased in the ashram bookstore, which is quite significant because the ashram only sells books on the sage, Ramana Maharshi.

Certainly, it is an interesting synchronicity.  I will see about getting the book.  Given the synchronicity, this book is either related to my own unconscious; or it is related to London’s and the new millennium.  Time will tell… in the mean time, I am tickled pink! a book has finally caught my eye.    

KVS, center, in pink

P.S.  Just arrived today October 29, as I am completing a 3^rd draft of this difficult ‘Musing”…  an email from KVS describing the book:    

"I am happy to know that you attended the Gandhi birthday meeting in London on October 2. The book referred to by Annette is titled 'Revolutionary Gandhi' published in June this year at Kolkatta. It is a translation done by 12 years ago, when I was at Uttarkashi, Himalayas, from a Bengali book written by Pannalal Dasgupta.  It remained unpublished all these years and I thought that it would not see the light of the day during my lifetime.  However, thanks to the efforts sof two dynamic, committed people - Bharat and Vinita Mansata of Earthcare Books, Kolkatta, it has come out.  The book was released at Kolkatta on June 5 but as I was not able to go, due to frail health, Vinita wanted to have a launch at the Ashram and our President, Sri V.S. Ramanan, willingly agreed.  It was launched from the New Hall of the Ashram on September 11 by Sri Gopal Krishna Gandhi, a grandson of Mahatma Gandhi. 


The book talks about Gandhi as a supreme votary of Truth, an apostle of non-violence, one who sought to spiritualise politics and economics and indeed every department of human life, as a revolutionary extraordinary. as a friend of the downtrodden, as one who showed that the means should be as pure as the end. as an emancipator of women and liberator of men and women from fear, as one who accepted all world religions and practised every worthy teaching, as a warrior who fought with love and without any weapon of any kind and as a mass leader unparalleled in human history.


Our President was keen that the book should be kept in our bookshop for sale, though I pointed out that there was not a single reference to Bhagavan.  He said that inasmuch as Gandhiji was a votary of Truth and the book talks about his total commitment to Truth throughout his life, the book should be kept along with  Ashram books."

ERIN AND ELLIOT’S WEDDING – LOCH LOMOND

Cameron House - site of the wedding

This was an experience that will never be repeated  (I just misspelt ‘be’ as ‘bee’… the little gold necklace Elliot gave Erin the night before the wedding.  The bee is something Erin loves.)  It is things like that which popped up again and again.  It was a truly magic affair.

All!!! And I mean ‘all’ family members behaved naturally, beautifully and had fun!  That was my experience of my own extended family; Erin’s father’s family; and Elliot’s very extended family.  During a pause after the vows, and before some rituals, a little 4 year old from Elliot’s family said in his own naturally expressive voice, “There is more!?”  Everyone had a great laugh; with Erin assuring him not much ‘more!’.  What came next was even more engaging:  Elliot did the Jewish ritual of stamping on a glass to cement the vow; and Erin had candles set up to be lit… one for each of them to light, and one for the couple to light together.

Prior to all this, at the beginning were the fathers, brothers and cousins being piped down the isle by two Scottish pipers; the men all in kilts, ‘the Pride of Scotland’.  (Sorry I don’t have a picture of them being piped down the isle… great! But caught us by surprise.)

After the men, came the very exquisite bride… strapless pale pink gown with a beautifully draped skirt…  a brilliant two inch band of ‘diamonds’ edging the top of the bodice: her mother on her right (dark steel blue strapless lace gown and jacket); and her father (in his Scottish soccer team blue plaid kilt) on her left.  Both parents incredibly proud… Barri holding back tears as best she could; Steven walking the Soccer man’s proud moment.  As he arrived at ‘the alter/arch’ Steve delicately turned back Erin’s veil… very touching;

A video of the walk down the aisle! It can be viewed by clicking this link if you're having trouble: The Walk

and the bride and groom stood apart and ready.  Somewhere amongst arrival and vows, both mother’s stood in turn to make the welcomes to  family and friends; and speaking heartfelt of the moment at hand.

                                

 A thoughtful idea on Erin’s part to include this kind of welcome… not a dry eye.  To be inclusive of all cultures and beliefs present, a ‘Humanist Society of Great Britain’ minister presided.  The vows were executed in a very natural, but graceful manner.

The ushers were ever present leading us from one venue to another… from the wedding hall … to drinks and nibbles in the lounge (while the wedding hall was being turned into a dining room)

 Jerry, Connie and the kids

 Roy and Trish

 Caroline and John

 Lindsey

 Catherine

… then into the dining room.  Names and table designation had been picked up in the lounge; each of us directed to our table… and awaiting gifts: homemade raspberry jam by Erin and bridesmaids, with a sprig of Rosemary (in tribute to Erin’s maternal grandmother) on the table for each; and for the women a pashmina shawl held in a roll with a pearl bracelet… each a different colour (Erin having carefully made a colour choice for each of us… a perfect choice, given her fashion expertise).  But we did not get to sit.  Instead we were called to the dance floor for the traditional Jewish circle folk dance… imagine 150 people! in 3 circles.  In the center of all these circles Elliot and his twin brother did the ‘Russian’?? leaps and knee kicks.  Everyone cheering.

Speeches followed … each parent, followed by the groom’s brother, and finally the groom.  The best moment was Barri asking Erin to turn to her left (which Barri had very carefully figured out, as it required her thinking in mirrored image) to acknowledge her new husband….

 Only! On the L was ‘the twin, Alexander’… Elliot was on the R.  Absolutely not fair!! I have met them many times and cannot… ever! tell them apart.  Great laughter.

The dinner delicious! Wine flowed!  The 4 layered wedding cake decked out in fall coloured hydrangeas… made by one of Erin’s bridesmaids… on beautiful display table off to the side of the dinner tables with arches of hydrangeas coupled with purple-pink English roses, blue thistle; and draping raspberry coloured “chennile” flower.

Buckets of candies; and a ‘wishing’ tree… with tags & pens waiting for us to write wishes for the new couple completed the wedding cake table.

The ceremony started at 3:30pm and we danced until midnight to all the best! dance music.  The evening ending with all of us in a circle surrounding the bride and groom with their parents, singing at full volume, “We’ll Meet You at Loch Lomond”. My voice was hoarse for the next 24 hours; my right hip is still adjusting from the hours of dance.

To put it in perspective, the actual wedding was one of at least 6 special events, including an “announcement’ ceremony at the family synagogue the Saturday prior, followed by lunch at Eliot’s aunt’s home; next day a tea for the bridesmaids at Erin’s home; on arrival at Cameron House, Loch Lomond on Saturday… skeet shooting in the morning (everyone who attended is determined to find the opportunity again!); a mother’s afternoon tea, including a special cake for Barri’s 56^th birthday;

The siblings; Jerry, Roy, Barri and Paula

and evening drinks in the boat house.

To emphasize the special planning and thought is to mention the gift bag in each person’s room:  a package of shortbread; a small bottle of Loch Lomond Scotch Whiskey; and a white linen hanky embroidered with an E & E… a hanky, it said, for tears of joy!  The LOVE and JOY was palpable throughout: A glorious, fun occasion. 

Post script to blog:

One more of those moments!  Erin's dad delivers a 50+ pound, 18+ inch high marble Teddy bear to Erin at the head table.... actually, given it's weight, delivered by 'her' 6ft 2in brother.  Took me a while, so no picture.  WHAT? Yes, carved by noted carver... has carved for Queen; and marble, ancient with petrified rocks.  But the real significance?  Well, the bear has been a symbol of the Royal Wedding of 2011... little did I know. Steve then contexting Erin & Elliot's wedding year.  A happy father/daughter moment in true Steven Donohoe style.

 The Bear! (from Ms. Groves excellent professional photos)

Here is a link to all the photos I took of the occasion: Erin and Elliot's Wedding!
And here is a link to the professionally taken photos of the event: The good photos!

‘THE SEASON’ Is Closing

Something has changed.  It is the end of August, and the end of the usual vacation time in most of Europe.  Perhaps it is not surprising that when I gaze at the bay to the SE, between punta de Jondal and punta  de Porroig, the bay is empty.  But it happened quite suddenly last week.  One day it was the same as ever, ships anchored in the bay from about 10am on through the day until by mid afternoon, certainly by 6pm, the bay was full (50 boats?)… to take advantage of ‘water sports’ and beachside bistros.  The sea between Ibiza and Formenterra, the two smallest of the Balearic Islands, has been like a club race scene.  All day, every day I could see ships stream across the Mediterranean toward this bay.  Tonight I see only a couple of sails in the distance; none have anchored in the bay.  It feels odd… a desertion of some kind.  It leaves more peace in the air, perhaps.  That possibility has not settled in yet.  It’s more a sense of vacuum for the moment.

 

 

No Boats!

While shopping earlier in the week a friendly clerk, asking about my stay and wanting me to enjoy it, informed me of 2 forthcoming changes: 1) that the heat wave would be finishing over the next couple of days; and 2) that the discos would be closed soon...won’t be long she says, September 20^th and they are closed.  The island becomes ours again she says.  She smiled happily. For now however, there are still torrents of people coming through the airport, if not by ship.  I stopped by the airport this week regarding my car reservation; it was a very busy airport.  This must be one of the last big weeks… August 21-28^th.   Strange! that the yachting crowd should finish before the last big week.  Maybe they are on their way back to a homeport.

 

Shops I frequent in St Joseph, close by my place.

The clerk was right; the heat wave was over in a couple of days.  But there is more.   It is not just an end to a heat wave.   For the last couple of evenings, I have had to put on long pants, a long sleeved top and a light jacket; and now this morning too.  I have even had a second cup of coffee, instead of iced tea.  It is not just a cooling off I’m afraid. The weather is changing!  It’s that first hint of Fall.  It has come even here in the Mediterranean. And! for some reason I am a bit miffed:  I am missing the heat!! Oh the days are still warm, even hot (34C); but it is no longer hot all day and deep into the night. What! How to explain my response to the end of a heat wave?  I was looking forward to a cooling.  Instead, I think I came to like this Mediterranean hot weather.  I think I like the slow outdoor rhythm that develops through the hot days: shade or sun I could always find the right spot to enjoy the Mediterranean day.  Here one does not retreat inside on the hottest days, like in the India late Spring, where one ends up just sitting too stunned by the heat to even think.  Here one finds a shady ‘breeze-way’ and stays outdoors, enjoying the day.  The days are long when one stays out into the late evening, an evening still warm enough for bare skin!  This inviting outdoor life is decidedly one of life’s gifts.  I have not mentioned the ever so sweeting singing of the canaries flitting in the pines… the sound, for those of used to the Pacific Northwest, is like a cross between a chick-a-dee and a robin.  This is the background to all that is so beautiful and vital on Ibiza…

The outdoor life has given me a feeling of vigorous health, maybe it is just seeing all this vigorous vegetation around me??.  The days outside, reading, writing, swimming, and going for the odd wander have made a strong impression. The swimming has been a real bonus… 3-4 times a day!  I can tell the difference with the body… more strength, more stamina, and even some change in shape.  Hey! Exercise works!   Those 25 steps up from my car I can now do in a sprightly walking glide… each step with a 2 foot depth and an 8 inch rise… up the wide steps I go, no longer hobbling along with the same foot making the stretch up, just one step at a time. The body is feeling much more fit.  I play with fantasies of keeping swimming as part of a daily routine.  Franciso was here this morning to work on the pool; I told him “Si! nadir (swim) ees buenos!  el muscular mucho grande!!  Yo equipaje (I baggage) de piscine (swimming pool).  Mi casa!  He laughed… enjoying my humour, maybe? My use of language for sure.

Talking by the pool with Francisco

One of the books I have been reading is John Julius Norwich’s THE MIDDLE SEA – A History of the Mediterranean.  (2006).  When Norwich contemplated a beginning and end for The Middle Sea, he decided to begin with the people of the ancient civilizations; and to end with WW 1 and the treaty of Versailles: when Europe and the Middle East were re-designed.   To him it was an end of an era, and thus an appropriate ending for the book:

“Does the Middle Sea of today retain the significance that it enjoyed when the world was young? … Alas, the answer must be no. … the trade routes no longer exist… the monster cruise ship prowling ceaselessly from port to port, island to island … it is becoming increasingly clear that its old raison d’être is lost for ever, and that the prime purpose of today’s Mediterranean is pleasure… .

          Not perhaps in every respect a bad thing…the waters in the past all too often were stained with blood.  One tends to forget…The miseries of former days at sea…slaves bled under the lash…a sudden storm could be tantamount to a death-warrant for an entire crew.

          What is sad is the loss of dignity: that the world’s most historic body of water should be so taken for granted…so polluted…its shores so littered that many are maintained only through the efforts of thousands of sweepers… .”  (my emphasis)

I would agree, mostly…though I have not seen litter; and there is a lot of our globe that seems to be littered and polluted.  But that this sea “should be so taken granted”, yes that hit a chord. “It links 3 of the world’s 6 continents; its climate for much of the year is among the most benevolent to be found anywhere.” Unlike other historical sites I doubt a ‘sea’ can be designated a heritage site.  It is too bad.  Though there are 7 Mediterranean regions in our world; there is only one ‘Old Mediterranean” full of the relics from numerous civilizations, including, at least 3 great ones. 

 

Which of the many Mediterranean civilizations? Found at old fort on Ibiza.

His rendering of Crete’s history is an example of his focus on various peoples:  It gives the sense of such a force for civilization!  Not a military culture but by 2000 BC the commercial crossroads of the eastern Mediterranean.  “Their life was easy, their climate delectable… the objects that they left behind them give the impression of a happy, peaceful, carefree people secure enough to leave their cities unwalled.”  Yes! Here we find King Minos; and the grand story of the Minotaur.  Norwich reports historians have actually credited Minos with having assembled the first great navy … largely clearing the sea of pirates and establishing governors on certain islands of the Aegean. This extraordinary civilization is one of the oldest threads in the weave of our Western culture.
I’m tempted to include it in this winter’s wanderings… maybe after Dubrovnik.  Glad to have found Norwich’s book, as I set out to traipse around the Mediterranean this fall/winter. 

Archetypal image found in most pantheons...Green Man/Dionysus in Mediterranean.

Another interesting book I found at the international bookstore in Santa Gertrudis is SEEING by the Portuguese Nobel Prize laureate, Jose Saramago.  A review:  “I have never read a novel that gets so many details of the political behavior that we for some reason insist on calling ‘organized’ so hilariously and grimly right.” Chicago Tribune (not an easy read; a moderate post-modern style; but it sticks!)

September 3, 2011- A perfect end of summer drive last evening: windows down; the air still warm but cooling as it breezes through the car.  The island is slowing down. Now I can feel the peace settle in; hardly anyone on the roads in the early evening.  So different! no one screaming up behind me wanting to pass.  I can just meander along the country roads… to watch a family of 3 (father, son & daughter) harvest some olives; to look longingly at the ripening deep purple black grape, the vines so close to the roadside I want to stop and pick a few.  But there is no place to stop!  The old stonewalls close in the roads…the valleys are full of the yellow-burnished orange stonewalls, bordering roads and terracing fields.  A lot of stones on this island!  

 

                                     Old rock terracing in the country.                                

Now September 4^th and I have seen no boats in the bay for over a week; and very few on the sea.  Looking out this evening, it is an empty sea. It is definitely the end of THE SEASON.  My hostess arrives within the week; we will have a couple of days to chat; then I am back to London and a family wedding in Scotland September 25^th.

 The amazing Mediterranean BLUE! even in the morning glory.

Slideshow of my travels thus far can be viewed by clicking here or on the photo below.

Ibiza, Spain