I don't like Mondays (actually, I do!)

Now, many people are gonna say I'm a total and utter nut when they read this, but Monday is one of my favourite days of the week. This wasn't always the case, especially about two years ago when I was still working at "The Firm" where non-stop pressure, deadlines and bosses breathing down your neck were the norm. No, back then, Monday was definitely not on top of my favourite days of the week list. It was number 7, just behind Sunday...

But now, I love Mondays and can't wait for them. More specifically, I can't wait for 8pm on a Monday night. 'Cause that's when choir starts.

Lots of people ask me, "how did you find out about your choir?" Well, I found out about it the same way people find out about anything these days - on the net. It was just after a holiday in Australia and I decided, I have to sing again. So I typed "tecaj pjevanje Hrvatska" (singing course Croatia) into Google and my kappellmeister and his choir were the first thing that popped up. I have to say that it's the best net discovery that I've ever made.

Our choir ain't no ordinary choir. For a start, none of us can sing to save our lives. We all sing a bit out of tune or too nasally or don't open our voices enough or whatever. No Celine Dions or Andrea Boccellis in sight. But you know what? We don't give a toss! 'Cause the beauty of our choir is that we do more than sing there. We talk, we laugh, we cringe (especially when we do solos, which our kappellmeister invariably forces us to do at least once every couple of weeks. It's definitely something that everyone should do as often as possible. Nothing better for building your self-confidence). But most importantly, we listen. And believe me, in this day and age, listening is a lost art, something that we all have to practice every so often. As our kappellmeister says, it's easier to sing a solo than to listen to someone else do it.

The exercises and singing technique are based on the work of Valborg Werbeck-Svadstrom and her book entitled "Uncovering the voice". I won't go into too much detail here, I'll just say that the exercises to the novice are more than just a bit bizarre - from the tongue exerices, where you have to sing "hrya" on four tones while slowly sticking your tongue out so that it touches your chin to singing an octave of "brr", like a horse when it whinnies, while moving your head from left to right going up the scale and from right to left going down the scale - and she felt that singing could change a person for the better. And I totally agree with her - if everyone sang just 10 minutes a day, it would do wonders for them and believe me, the world would be a much nicer place to live in!

So, if you ever happen to be on 239 Vukovar Avenue in Zagreb of a Monday night at around 10 pm and you see a group of people humming with huge smiles on their faces and a spring in their step as they make their way towards their cars or the tram stop, you'll know it's our choir.

If you want to find out more, go to http://www.orpheus.hr/index-english.htm

I see trees that are green, red roses too...

Today my husband (officially!) became a Doctor of Philosophy. Now, he's had his PhD for about two years but the Uni of Zagreb decided to give him the piece of paper that he worked four long hard years for today.

The ceremony has, in the words of my daughter, become a bit "posh" of late. It used to be held at the Chancellory to an audience of zero with the PhD's attired in their, more or less, everyday workgear (nice clothes, preferably, but not necessarily, with a tie). Now the ceremony is more akin to an Illuminati/secret society meeting - perculiar hats and robes, men bearing sceptres and chains around their necks, lots of latin being spoken, pledges of obedience...but I have to admit that, despite the Illuminati overtones, I like the latter version more than the former...reminds me a bit of my graduation...sigh!

But the highlight of the day (to me anyway!) was the Chancellor's reception afterwards in the Zagreb Botanical Gardens. Now, while hubby was mingling with the Illuminati, the kids and I went off to explore the gardens. I'd been to the gardens a few times before but I hadn't been in a while. And I have to say that it was nice to be in them again. They're not gargantuan compared to Sydney (I sometimes could not actually find my way out of the Sydney Botanical Gardens!) but they are lovely nonetheless, an oasis from the hustle and bustle of the city, with inspiration for photographs in every nook and cranny. Here are a few that I took today:

Jools, ever acting the princess, waiting for her frog prince to leap out of the water...

This is the band that played today, a saxiphone quartet. They're students of the Musical Academy in Zagreb and were real cute. They played a wonderful rendition of West Side Story. I think "Officer Krupky" was their favourite - they sort of played it again and again and again...would have preferred "Tonight" or "Somewhere"...

The main lake

An exhibition of pressed leaves, something hubby did during his undergraduate days...he doesn't have fond memories of the botanical gardens 'cause he always had to sneak there and steal as many leaves as he could for his collection...woe to him when he got caught...

The pavillion with cactii and insect eating plants inside...and the Illuminati outside...

A water lily, one of my favourite flowers...apparently, it is a symbol of purity of heart

And one of my favourite photos taken today, one I entitled "flowers smiling at the sky"...

Congrats, dear hubby! Thanks for the lovely day!

Happy Birthday Davor!

It's my dear, dear friend Davor's birthday today. Hope that all your dreams come true, mate! And don't forget what Richard Bach said: Bad things are not the worst things that can happen to us. Nothing is the worst thing that can happen to us.

Have a great one!!!

Plaisir d'amour

One of my favourite classical (wince!) songs at the moment is "Plaisir d'amour". It's a beautiful and very moving song of lost love written in 1780 by Jean Martini (aka Johann Scwartzendorf, of all things!) to words by Jean de Florian. The song inspired Elvis Presley's "Can't help falling in love with you". I've been practising it for a while now but still can't quite "open" my voice on the high F's and G's. But, as my teacher says, it will come with time, and I know it will. I think it's a must for the CD I'm planning to record.

The lyrics of the song go like this:

Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,
Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie.
J'ai tout quitté pour l'ingrate Silvie,
Elle me quitte et prend un autre amans.
Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment,
Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie.
"Tant que cette eau coulera doucement
Vers ce ruisseau qui borde la prairie,
Je t'aimerai", me répétait Silvie.
L'eau coule encore, elle a changé pourtant.
Plaisir d'amour ne dure qu'un moment
Chagrin d'amour dure toute la vie.

Pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
Chagrin of love is lifelong.
I left everything for the ingrate Silvie,
She leaves and takes another lover.
Pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
Chagrin of love is lifelong.
"As long as this water will run gently
Towards this brook which borders the meadow,
I will love you", repeated to me Silvie.
The water still runs, Sylvie changed, however.
Pleasure of love lasts only a moment,
Chagrin of love is lifelong.

Being the philistine I am, I only discovered it recently, a couple of months ago to be more or less exact, on my friend Davor's blog. Joan Baez did a version of it, as did Brigitte Bardot, Charlotte Church and Andrea Boccelli, among others. But my favourite version is by Nana Mouskouri (the one Davor posted). Now, I'd listened to Nana as a kid (growing up in Belmore, at that time a very heavily Greek populated suburb, it was more or less obligatory that my friends and I sat around on Saturday mornings watching "The Greek Show" where Nana made many guest appearances) but had never heard this song before.

And see, that's the beauty of blogging to me. Besides getting some personal satisfaction from writing my own blog, I get even more from reading my friends' blogs and learning something new with every post - about the world we live in, about a new song, about a new artist, and most importantly, about them. I feel privileged to be able to take a look at what's going on in their lives and get to know them better. Some of my friends are a suburb away, some are on the other side of the world. But this blogging, perverse as it sometimes may seem putting our hearts and souls "out there", is something that, even though continents apart, keeps us close together.

So without further adue, here is the lovely Nana Mouskouri singing "Plaisir d'amour". I might take her lead and sing it in D too instead of F so I don't sound like a cat in heat on those high F's and G's!

Thanks for the inspiration Davor! And thanks again Ross for inpiring me to sing anew!

A change is gonna come

I listened to Otis Redding today. Now I haven't listened to Otis in at least 2 years. But I needed his earthy, soulful voice today to take the edge off. I've been feeling terribly tense and stressed out these last couple of days. See, I'm entering a very important astrological phase at the moment, an astral triad. Now don't ask me to explain what exactly it is, which planets it involves and whatnot. I just know that it's a more or less once in a lifetime occurance. This is the time to either be or not to be, it's now or never, this songbird can either spread her wings and fly or stay roosting in her nest until God knows when. And I don't feel like roosting no more.

But big steps have to be taken if I want to take flight. I know where to start - I have to contact my friends at Radio 101 to see how I can go about recording a CD. But what if they laugh their heads off when I sing with my treacly, quasi Julie Andrews voice? What if I fall flat, bang on my face? What when they ask me, what songs I wanna sing? What style? I think I can do a max of 5 - 6 songs at best. Which ones, which style, I've no bloody idea. I like a lot of stuff - jazz, classics (wince!), soul, folk, Frenchie stuff...now besides the tension in my neck and back, I'm starting to get a headache...

Then I need a pianist. Where the hell do I find one of those? I don't wanna record something with a bloody backup tape. I want the real deal. I want someone who's gonna follow my moves, who waits for my pauses, who keeps my pace. Yeah, I love how Eva, Edith and Ella do their stuff, but I don't think it's right to copy them word for word, letter for letter, note for note. Then it wouldn't be the Knitting Songbird singing, it would be a very, extremely, horribly bad imitation of some pretty phenomenal women! But who's gonna want to accompany my treacly voice?

So yeah, I've got the tension, I've got the headache, I know I could fall flat bang on my face, but I know that if I don't do it now, I'll never do it, I just know it, astral triad or not. I'm bloody 37 years old, for Christ's sake! And I'll always think of what could have been. This songbird needs to dust off her wings, she needs to fly, she needs to sing no matter what...a change has gotta come, man...

And here's the wonderful, fabulous, king of soul himself, Otis Redding. Yeah, I like Sam Cooke's version of this song best, but Otis does a pretty bloody good version too!



Take care,
The Knitting Songbird

Stuff - no comment

I ain't gonna write anything today. All I'm gonna do is reaaaally urge you to watch this video. Fascinating but bloody scary stuff...where the hell are we going, man, I wanna know...?

Please pass this on to your friends, colleagues, family, everyone you know...we really need to change our consumer oriented societies and buy less stuff...especially stuff we don't need...

http://www.storyofstuff.com/

Take care and think about your stuff,
The Knitting Songbird

Since Eve ate apples, much depends on dinner (Lord Byron)

My husband tells me quite often that I have too much time on my hands - too much time to think about silly things! One silly thing that I thought about recently was - which meal would I request on my death bed? There's sooo much good food out there, what would I like to be the last taste to transport me from this world to the next? And I would have to answer moules frites (or steamed mussels with chips) - followed by some cheese and, of course, some chocolate for desert! Nothing gets my taste buds going more than moules frites.

I'll never forget the first time I had them. It was about 4 or 5 years ago and the company I work for was going through a re-branding process. There was a whole plethora of things to re-brand, from office stationary to brochures to the web to shops to name tags. You name it, it had to be re-branded - and there was looooots. One of the items that I was responsible for re-branding was boxes. So we asked our purchasing department to put out a tender and together with them would choose the best bidder. We chose a bidder from Rovinj, a lovely picturesque town on the Istrian coast of Croatia. I was to go there with our advertising agency in order to overlook the printing process and approve the first print-outs. There were over a dozen boxes to be printed and each one had to be approved. Now, if you know what the printing process consists of, you would know that this was going to be a very long day and night. We ended up working from 12pm until 7 am the next day, without a wink of sleep and only a break for dinner. As it was my first time in town I asked the guys from the printing house to choose something for me for dinner. I was too bloody tired to choose anything anyway! Well, we went for a walk to a nearby konoba (the simple explanation for konoba would be restaurant but the proper meaning is much more complicated than that. Croatians even write songs about their favourite konoba, they're sacred places!) and they chose moules frites. Now, I'd never had shellfish before, was always a bit too chicken to try it out really, and the first thought that went through my head was "They don't expect me to eat this, do they???" They did, and I didn't want to be a bad guest by refusing. Let's just say that after that first timid taste I was hooked for life and never looked back.

Maybe my husband is right - maybe I do have too much time on my hands to think about silly things! But when I think of moues frites, it reminds of lots of lovely times I've had. Like when I had some with my dearest friend Maro in a lovely French restaurant in Sydney (I think the restaurant was called "Sel et Poivre" - correct me if I'm wrong Maro!) or when Ivan and I went to Paris a few years back and had some at a little brasserie just off Notre Dame (where the waiter was soooo horribly rude) or when Davor and I had some in Saint Malo (totally disappointed with the city but the moules frites knocked our socks off allright!) Think it was one of, if not the, best meal we had on our recent trip.

So requesting moules frites as my last supper is more than a final, worldly taste experience, rather, a remembrance of wonderful times had with lots of very special people.

If you feel like giving it a whirl at home, it ain't hard at all to make. And tastes absolutely scrumdidiliumpcious (in the words of Willy Wonka!)

Moules frites (serves 4 - depends on your appetite!)

2 kg mussels - cleaned, scrubbed, beards removed
50g butter
1 large onion - thinly sliced
1 clove garlic - thinly sliced
1 bay leaf
1 teaspoon dried thyme
2 glasses white wine
Salt, pepper
A bit of chopped parsley

Melt the butter in a large, heavy bottomed pot with a tight fitting lid. Add the onion and garlic and fry until translucent. Add the wine, herbs, salt and pepper and bring to the boil. Add the mussels, put the lid on and "steam" for 5 - 7 minutes.

In the meantime, make the chips (if you don't feel like eating or making chips, bread's a good way to go too!).

Place the mussels and liquid in large bowls (discard any mussels that haven't opened), sprinkle over the parsley and serve with chips or bread on the side for dipping into the liquid.

Here are a couple of photos of Saint Malo. I say we were a bit disappointed with it but it was only because it was almost completely devoid of life (i.e., people!). Looking back, I wouldn't mind going there again, but maybe when the weather's a bit nicer and during the day when there's a bit more hustle and bustle...

Why does the eye see a thing more clearly in dreams than the imagination when awake?

That's what Leonardo said and I have to say, I agree with him. My friend Ross recently wrote a lovely post about an equally lovely dream he had which got me thinking about dreams...

I've always been a great believer in dreams and the way they can predict a person's future, that the unconscious can materialise in the consious life. Take after my mum in that respect. She can tell you what's gonna happen by interpreting your dream. For example, dreaming of fish means worries ahead, murky waters mean illness, falling means you're struggling with some kind of problem. She's very spiritual and always has a dream before something major happens, or after the fact if she hadn't known about it beforehand. Like when my aunt died recently - she dreamt of the house where she was born. I sometimes have that gift, but not to the degree that she does...I sometimes dream about people I haven't seen or heard from in donkey's years and then they mysteriously materialise in my waking life a day or so later...

I Googled to see which famous people, other than Joseph's dream of the 7 fat and 7 thin cows and Joseph's dream of the baby Jesus being slaughtered by Emperor Augustus, had dreams which changed or predicted their future...here are some interesting ones I found...

Giuseppe Tartini wrote one of his greatest works "The Devil's Trill" as a result of one of his dreams. In his dream, he handed his violin to the devil who began, as Tartini says " to play with consummate skill a sonata of such exquisite beauty as surpassed the boldest flights of my imagination. I felt enraptured, transported, enchanted; my breath was taken away, and I awoke." He then took to his violin and tried to write down the notes he heard in his dream. He says it was the best piece he ever wrote but far below par to the music the devil played in his dream...

Then there's the dream that Adolf Hitler had in a trench in WWI. He dreamed of himself and his fellow soldiers being engulfed by earth and molten metal. He awoke and left the trench. While he was away the trench was hit by a shell and the other soldiers killed. So a seemingly simple dream can change the entire course of human history...

Another dream that changed the course of human history was one that Albert Einstein had. Apparently, his theory of relativity was inspired by a dream whereby he was going down a mountainside ever faster, watching the appearance of the stars change as he approached the speed of light. I don't know if I can really believe that story, but that's what the worldwide web says...

The eeriest dream, and possibly the most famous one dreamt by someone other than the two Josephs, was Abraham Lincoln's dream where he predicts his own death. Here's what he wrote: "There seemed to be death-like stillness about me. Then I heard subdued sobs, as if a number of people were weeping. I thought I left my bed and wandered downstairs. There the silence was broken by the same pitiful sobbing, but the mourners were invisible. I went from room to room; no living person was in sight, but the same mournful sounds of distress met me as I passed along. It was light in all the rooms; every object was familiar to me; but where were all the people who were grieving as if their hearts would break? I was puzzled and alarmed. What could be the meaning of all this? Determined to find the cause of a state of things so mysterious and so shocking, I kept on until I arrived at the East Room, which I entered There I met with a sickening surprise. Before me was a catafalque, on which rested a corpse wrapped in funeral vestments. Around it were stationed soldiers who were acting as guards; and there was a throng of people, some gazing mournfully upon the corpse, whose face was covered, others weeping pitifully. "Who is dead in the White House?" I demanded of one of the soldiers "The President" was his answer; "he was killed by an assassin! Then came a loud burst of grief form the crowd, which awoke me from my dream. " Pretty freaky, eh...?

I had a great dream a couple of months ago. Nothing special some might say, but very special to me. I was lying in bed with a friend and our heads were on a pillow together, with our temples meeting - not face to face, but side to side, looking at the ceiling together, with, funnily enough, our bodies far apart. Nothing life changing, nothing you could see in a crystal ball, but I felt so happy when I woke up after that dream. Because, when I thought about it later, that dream is an interpretation of not just that particular friendship but of all my friendships - a meeting of the minds. And that is the fulfillment of one of the most important dreams you can have - having people you can share your thoughts with, who can share their thoughts with you, who understand you, who know what you're feeling and thinking without either of you uttering a sound. As Richard Bach said "your friends will know you better in the first minute you meet than your acquaintances will know you in a thousand years."

I'll leave ya with a song. "I have a dream" - not by Abba but by Nana. Makes me wanna close my eyes and daydream away...what a voice...



Sweet dreams, y'all,
The Knitting Songbird

Breakfast in bed

I have to say that I think that breakfasts in bed are highly overrated. Well, this is coming from a person who has never had a real proper breakfast in bed - you know, with a nice cuppa, some jam, butter and toast, a rose in a vase, all brought to you on a lovely tray by a special someone. The only breakfast I've ever had in bed was in hospital so I don't really delight at the idea at all!

But the best breakfast I've ever had in my life so far took place last Sunday, just before Davor and I left Bretagne for Paris. Just for me, Davor did a large U-y (that's u-turn to people not from Oz :) and took us to Nantes. Nantes is a lovely city (not that we saw much of it) but the reason he took me there was because of a brasserie called La Cigale. Many might be thinking that doing a 100 or so kilometre u-y is nuts but once you've seen La Cigale, you'll know that it is not such a nutty idea after all. Because as Jean-Louis Trintagnant put it, Brasserie La Cigale is "perhaps the most beautiful brasserie in the world". I would correct him and say IT IS the most beautiful brasserie in the world!

The brasserie was named after the fable "The Ant and the Grasshopper", as La Cigale means grasshopper in English. If you don't know the story, it goes like this:

In a field one summer's day a Grasshopper was hopping about, chirping and singing to its heart's content. An Ant walked by, grunting as he carried a plump kernel of corn.

"Where are you off to with that heavy thing?" asked the Grasshopper.

Without stopping, the Ant replied, "To our ant hill. This is the third kernel I've delivered today."

"Why not come and sing with me," said the Grasshopper, "instead of working so hard?"

"I am helping to store food for the winter," said the Ant, "and think you should do the same."

"Why bother about winter?" said the Grasshopper; "we have plenty of food right now."

But the Ant went on its way and continued its work.

The weather soon turned cold. All the food lying in the field was covered with a thick white blanket of snow that even the grasshopper could not dig through. Soon the Grasshopper found itself dying of hunger.

He staggered to the ants' hill and saw them handing out corn from the stores they had collected in the summer.
Then the Grasshopper knew:

It is best to prepare for the days of necessity.

Neat story, a bit of a sign of the times, don't ya think...? The French say it was written by La Fontaine but it was originally written by Aesop...that's the French for ya...in any case, if there was ever a palace of pleasure for us lazy two-legged grasshoppers, La Cigale is it.

It was built on April 1st, 1895 in Art Nouveau style by the Nantes architect-ceramist Emile Libaudiere (you can tell the guy was a ceramist because the walls are full of a myriad of tiles, each one different and more colourful than the rest). The brasserie quickly became a haunt to the bourgeois of Nantes, who liked to rub shoulders with the pretty actresses and dancers of the nearby theatre, and was also a favourite brasserie of the French surrealists, notably Andre Breton. It was classed a National Monument in 1964 and was featured as the backdrop in a number of films. However, it fell into oblivion until 1982 when it was completely renovated and is now on every tourist map for visitors to Nantes. My pictures don't do it justice so watch out for Davor's ones when he uploads them on his site (http://www.cromagnon.blogerhr/). Here are a couple just to give you an idea of what I'm talking about:

Many will say when they read this that the breakfast we had was nothing special - copious, but not special - a croissant, a pain au chocolat, a brioche, some toast, 3 types of jams (including a creme de caramel au beurre sale and some organic apple jam), a glass of OJ and a chocolat chaud. But oooh, the chocolat chaud was made with Valrhona chocolate (my absolute favourite...I can still taste it now!) and the creme de caramel was to DIE FOR. It was all just magnifique. And eating breakfast in those kinds of surroundings was just surreal.

If you feel like trying some creme de caramel au beurre sale, it's dead easy to make, you just need a bit of patience (important when it comes to making caramel) and time. But believe me, it's time well spent. And when the house starts smelling of the most delicious caramel, let me know if you can stop at eating just one jar at a time...one lady commented to this recipe, "je ne veux pas savoir combien de calories il y a pour une cuillère" or I don't wanna know how many calories are in one spoon. I totally agree with her - I'd rather not know!!!

For one 250 ml jar:

240g sugar

80 ml water

100g salted or demi-salted butter

150 ml milk

Over a low heat, melt the sugar with the water. Add the butter once the sugar has melted. Boil until it turns a light brown/caramel colour. Take of the heat and add the cold milk. Stir the mixture until it becomes smooth. Bring to the boil again and cook for another 10 or so minutes until it becomes a honey consistency. Put into a jar and let cool.

If you want a creme de caramel au beurre sale au chocolat (or in other words, A TOTAL SUGAR BOMB!), add 100g of chocolate to the caramel after having added the milk.

Bon appetit and, like I've already said, enjoy a little something everyday,

The Knitting Songbird

PS Thanks again for brekkie Davor :)

The Emerald City

They call Paris the City of Lights. I could see why last Sunday when Davor and I went to the top of Tour Montparnasse at circa 11 pm and saw the city in all of its flaming glory. We even made it to see the Eiffel Tower "twinkle" (it "twinkles" every hour on the hour until 12 am, a bit of a tourist gimmick but it gets me every time). And this year la tour is an electric shade of blue each night (when it's not "twinkling"!) to commemorate France presiding the EU. In a word, it was all so breathtaking.

But I have to say that to me, Paris is the city of parks. I haven't travelled that much, but Paris has to have, in my opinion, the most beautiful parks in the world. The Tuileries, the Palais Royal, the Palais Luxembourg. But a park/museum that I discovered on this trip was the Musee Rodin. Davor had been there before and recommended I go there while he went to the Musee d'Armee next door at Les Invalides. Now, I've never been a particular fan of Rodin. Yeah, his Thinker's cool, the Kiss is nice and Balzac's a bit of a laugh. But when I saw his works up close, I have to say that they really knocked my socks off - I couldn't believe that slabs of metal could exhude such emotion. But it wasn't only the works, it was the surroundings they were housed in that really blew me away. I could have stayed there all day, it was all just too beautiful. Here are a few pics for ya:

And here's my favourite photo of Paris from this trip, taken in another park on the other side of the city. This photo could have been taken anywhere in the world but this little one is a very special Parisien I noticed in the Palais Royal park on our second day. I couldn't resist him and won't ever forget him. May he always soar high over The Emerald City. And here's hoping we meet again...

Caro mio ben

I'm feeling a bit lazy today and will just copy-paste a lovely video for ya all to watch. It's one of my favorite "classical" songs, although I wince at the word "classical" because it's actually baroque...and it's sung by one of my favourite "classical" (wince!) singers, Cecelia Bartoli. I'll write a list of my favourite "classical" (wince!) pieces one of these days...

This one's for mio Giovanni, take care in Vienna.

BTW, if you've got a bit of time, check out Cecelia's "Alleluia" by Mozart. It's truly amazing!

Caro mio ben (My dear beloved)
Giuseppe Giordani
English line-by-line translation © John Glenn Paton


Caro mio ben,
My dear beloved,

Credimi almen,
believe me at least,

Senza di te languisce il cor.
without you my heart languishes.

Il tuo fedel
Your faithful one

Sospira ognor.
always sighs;

Cessa, crudel,
cease, cruel one,

Tanto rigor!
so much punishment!

Caro mio ben,
My dear beloved,

Credimi almen,
believe me at least,

Senza di te languisce il cor.
without you my heart languishes.

A few of my favourite things

I don't know about you, but I've been feeling a bit more negativity both within myself and without at the moment. Now, I'm not normally a negative person, at least I try not to be, but you may have seen my blog the other day entitled "Killing me softly". Then one of my dear friends broke up with his love and has been feeling wretched ever since. Another friend had a nasty incident with his fence and has been feeling a bit anxious about it. My son's gone a bit more nutso than usual. Lots of bad karma around at the moment it seems...

So to cheer myself up, I started singing a bit tonight. Nothing special, just a few Eva Cassidy songs like always ("The Water is Wide", "Dark Eyed Molly", "Songbird", "People Get Ready" are a few favourites I like to sing to the kiddies). And like always, Eva did her trick and worked wonders for me.

And I thought, man, I've never made a list of favourite songs ever. I mean, what are my favourite songs ever? Would it even be possible for me to make a list out of the plethora of wonderful music out there? But I thought, hey, I'm up for a challenge, let's give it a try and see where I go. So here I go!

1. Everything by Eva Cassidy: picking a favourite Eva Cassidy song would be like picking which of my children is my favourite - impossible! The woman was just amazing: she could sing jazz, pop, country, folk, soul...you name it, she did it - and absofuckinglutely fabulously! She's my guiding star when it comes to singing, no comes even close to her.

2. "Ne me quitte pas" and "La chanson des vieux amants" by Jacques Brel: yeah, I know I'm cheating a bit here, putting two songs at number 2, but it's hard to say which is better. Both full of guttwrenching heart and soul, ils sont magnifiques!

3. "A Change is Gonna Come" by Sam Cooke: the first version I heard of this was by Aretha, which I also adore. But I have to say that I prefer the, as we say in Croatian, "origigi" or the original version. I get shivers up my spine every time I hear it by both artists...

4. "L'hymne a l'Amour" by Edith Piaf: now, as you can see by the list so far, I don't go for singers that don't give their 100% when they sing. This woman gave about 500%. She apparently wrote the song as a tribute to the man she considered the love of her life, the French boxer Marcel Cerdan, who died in a plane crash in 1949. And it's just hauntingly beautiful...

5. "Everywhere I go" by Pink Martini: if you're happily in love, listen to this song. If you've just gone out of love, involuntarily, avoid it at all costs...just kidding! Listen to it, it's be-au-ti-ful.

6. "Les Feuilles Mortes" by Yves Montand: ah, what can I say that I haven't said before? I wrote about this song in a previous post, it's just tres, tres as my dear friend would say.

7. "Jesen stize, dunjo moja" by Zvonko Bogdan: or, in English, "Autumn's coming, my quince". Doesn't have quite the same romantic ring to it like it does in Croatian! And I bet my Croatian friends are laughing their heads off 'cause I like Zvonko. But to me, he rocks!

8. "Do Nothing 'til You Hear from Me" by Ella Fitzgerald: this woman was one of my very early influences at uni. She had the most amazing voice, and could even do scat which is not the easiest genre to sing. And even though Billy Holiday is considered by many to be better than "Lady Ella", I prefer to disagree.

9. "You're Gonna Hear from Me" by Vince Jones: ah, man, I remember the very day I bought his first album. It was at a second hand fair we had every second Thursday at uni. And I've loved the man ever since. Not sure how much the record cost but it was worth every single cent. And I love this song 'cause it's an anthem to all us underdogs out there!

10. Everything by The Beatles: okay, maybe not everything, but how can you choose your favourite Beatles' song??? Can you? C'est impossible!

I have to say I feel a lot of negativity has gone having written this, feeling much better now! Funny the effect making a simple list can have on ya. But it's not that, it's thinking about all the wonderful music out there that's made me feel better. What a powerful effect music has on us...but that's another story, and another post!

I'll leave you with my fave, Eva, singing "What a Wonderful World" live. 'Cause, really, when you think about it, it truly is. BTW, the woman is singing this with a cold. I wish I could sing like this feeling perfectly healthy!!!

A bon appetit il ne faut point de sauce (a good appetite doesn't need sauce)

Now, anyone who's a serious foodie knows that French cuisine is the greatest in the world. And who am I to disagree with them? But I'd never really experienced true French cuisine up to now. Yeah, I've been to Paris before and some of the food I had was truly exquisite (creme brulee in particular!). And I like to cook the occasional French specialty. But Paris and my kitchen ain't France. If you want to really experience the country, you gotta get out of the city and go to the sticks. And that's exactly what Davor and I did.

So after an exhausting day and night of travelling (we left Zagreb at 5am and arrived at our first hotel at 2 am the next day. It was almost as if we had travelled to Australia!), we hopped to it and went to Dinon, Bretagne. Dinon is a charming place, one of my favourites on our trip, and we had a lovely time there, walking around, taking photos, breathing in the atmosphere. But as the day went on, we began to get the munchies. So we went to the nearest restaurant that had a spare table (we had to go to at least three before we found an empty one!). Now, Bretagne is not only home to the most marvellous seafood in the world but also to crepes. So while Davor ordered a seafood salad, I ordered a crepe with, what else, but cheese. And man, was it good!

But the best part (for me anyway!) was dessert. You all know I have a very sweet tooth and love my chocolate. But there's a whole plethora of sweets that I love, and I would have to say that macarons are in the top 5 (my friend Davor will never understand why...). I felt like a schoolkid in a candy store when I saw that myriad of colours staring at me from the pattisserie - white, cream, brown, pink, purple, red, blue. How could I choose??? So I did the typical Mary thing and had a chocolate one and a raspberry one. Mmm, my mouth is watering at the thought of them...

Like I said, Dinon was one of my favourite places that we visited in Bretagne. Here are some snapshots to show you why. Hope you enjoy them:

Killing me softly

Roberta Flack was, to me, one of the great performers of the 20th century, someone with such amazing emotional depth, a true rarity in our day and age. Who cannot be touched by "First time ever I saw your face", "You've got a friend" or "Killing me softly"? "Killing me softly" is particularly a song in point. But now when I think about the song, it brings a bit of a smile to my face - Davor and I driving from Bono to Paris via Chenonceau, listening to Radio Nostalgie, singing in our worst voices ever, cringing our faces and laughing our heads off.

But isn't it strange the effect words can have on us? When you really think about it, words are just a group of vowels and consonents grouped in syllables and phrases and sentences. Don't amount to much really. And yet, what joy and sadness they can bring, how they can make you laugh or "kill you softly", some words can even completely change your life. Roberta put the whole word effect phenomena across quite well:

Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song

I have to say that it was fascinating travelling and listening to the different words and languages around us - the lilting French, the undeviating Czech, the highbrow British, the throaty Spanish, the melodious Welsh, the almost aria-like Italian. Each language so different and yet all with the same capability of bringing joy or sadness.

Yes, words, funny things they are, things that are very often underestimated. The pen is mightier than the sword they say, and I have to agree. I was told lately that my friend should be paid for having put up with me for 6 days in France, among other things. Talk about killing me softly! The Dalai lama once said "think fast, talk slow". How true. I think we all need to slow down a bit and think about what we say, despite this "get it done yesterday" world...because even though sticks and stones may break our bones, words have an even more profound effect on us...

Well, got nothing more to say for now, no more words left, expect the words of the language we all know and love, that of Mother Nature, in Quiberon, Bretagne, France...take your time and enjoy...

A river runs through it

I have to say that I have a love-hate relationship with water. Most of the places I love most have a lovely sea front or a river that run through them. I grew up in the city with the world's most beautiful harbour, my favourite city has the River Seine trickling through it, the place where my mum grew up is where the Kupa River, one of Croatia's longest, has its source. I love long hot baths and showers, adore looking at waves crashing the ocean, walking over bridges, throwing pennies into fountains.

The hate part of the relationship comes from circa 1978 when I was learning to swim at Canterbury Pools and almost drowned. It was only when I came to Croatia 16 years ago that I stepped back into the water but still feel a bit of a chill up my spine every time I do. So I love looking at water but have a bad time getting into it. Wonder what the shrinks would say to that...

Anyways, the first stop on my recent trip to France was Prague. As my friend Davor said, it was a lovely aperitif to the wonderful meal ahead. I'd never thought of Prague as a place I'd like to see. I'm more into Mediterranean countries like France, Spain and Italy. But I have to say that Prague completely knocked my socks off. But if you pressed me to tell you what it was I loved so much about Prague I wouldn't be able to tell you. There was no specific "thing" that particularly "blew me away". It was simply the whole atmosphere that struck me.

The Vltava River, with its amazing Charles Bridge and swans searching for tourists' scraps, the Old Town Square with its quaint revolving church bell that strikes every hour, the puppet, babushka and souvenir shops that sell proper handmade Czech goods, the cafes offering Czech specialties like medenka (honey cake), babka (walnut cake) or the infamous absinthe.

But I think the thing that struck me most about Prague was the fact that it was like a home away from home - so similar to Zagreb and yet so new and fresh. It's definitely a place I'd like to get to know better. I hope I will.

Old Town Square

Town Hall in Art Nouveau style

A view of Charles Bridge

A swan

A bientot, chers amis!

Or, until soon dear friends. Veeery early on Wednesday morning my friend Davor and I are off to France, more specifically Bretagne and Paris. So upon our return, I'm sure to have lots to write about. Until then, here's the original and the best version of "La Mer" by Charles Trenet. Just beautiful...the American version has absolutely nothing on it...



A bientot la mer, et a bientot chers amis,
L'oiseau chantant qui tricot (The Knitting Songbird in French:)

A tune

I heard tonight that one of my very dear friends broke up with his love. I dedicate this post to him. May your heart mend soon dear friend, you're in my thoughts...

A tune
by Arthur Symons

A foolish rhythm turns in my idle head
As a wind-mill turns in the wind on an empty sky.
Why it is when love, which men call deathless, is dead,
That memory, men call fugitive, will not die?
Is love not dead? yet I hear that tune if I lie
Dreaming awake in the night on my lonely bed,
And an old thought turns with the old tune in my head
As a wind-mill turns in the wind on an empty sky.