the seventh cousin

dearest Örs Domonkos,
the smallest boy in the family,
be blessed,
let us be blessed by you,
for angels must have carried
you all the way from heavens,
for you came peaceful, quiet,
flying on puffs of feathers,
this very morning.
six brothers and sisters,
two parents, five grandparents,
two cousins, an uncle and I, your auntie
and friends
- we all have been waiting for you.

this to your long and healthy life!

socializing event

in hungary you basically will never find those no-fence, lawn-frontyard, come-to-my-house setting that are so common in certain parts of the usa. we all have tend to have high, strong fences, where most of the fences are so formed that you just can't see through them.

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for an unexperienced foreigner this expressed need for safety may seem an unfriendly, a get-outta-my-place attitude.

i know that there is alienation, but not where i live :)
where i live and in many other communities, where the original hungarian hospitality is still alive, this is just the surface.

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i have already mentioned some of the activities (like plum jam, see the post below) we, the community that has formed in our street do together.

and now, i'm going to illustrate another event: a street party.

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there is a street just one street up from ours, where people do parties every year. this year it was the 8th gathering. they set up a large tent for stage performances , they bring tables with snack food on them, they make a large pot of goulash enough for at least 40-50 people. they gather in the evening and enjoy the performances. the night ends with dancing. it is usually rock and roll, or disco-whatever.

now this year, our community was invited to take part.

we rehearsed and came up with a performance that lasted about 20 minutes. we sang three folksongs - the one we chose were funny.

after that we improvised a short folk-tale, where there were three princesses (played by three of the little girls, one of them, the biggest was my daughter), an old king (played by one of the fathers) and a dragon (*coughs*). the story was highlighted by musical performances: traditional flutes and a doromb. (i don't know if that one has an english name at all...)

we needed three boys to make all ends meet, so we borrowed them from the audience. they enjoyed their role-playing. we received lots of applause and laughter.

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after our performance we stayed to watch others. there was a trio that played classical music on instruments, a play making fun of the story of Cindarella, and various singing activities.

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we arrived as one group and left as one, too.

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this is my husband and my daughter minutes before our performance has begun. you may want to click on the photo to see her hairdo better. this hairdo is quite common for folk dancers. dh is sporting a linen shirt with a straw hat. this combo is a traditional menswear in hungary.

this is us, our family, having some fun - my son is not dancing, for he was engaged in bicycling with his friends. no, i'm not having digestive problems :) - i think we were dancing the twist. my husband and my daughther were keen on dancing. i simply got tired :)
also pictured: the other two princesses, and the stage-tent in the background.

plum jam

dear all,
we are done.
it lasted for three days.
one for travelling to the plum orchard (located at a farm), picking and collecting from under the trees.
one for pitting the crop.
one for making the jam.
three days, four families, loads of fun. tiredness.
a plum jam made the traditional way, a jam that contains nothing but the fruit. no sugar, no preservatives, nothing else, but plum. worth quite much.
will please four families throughout the winter.
sunshine bottled for the hazy days.
this to the friendship between the four families.

photos from ukraine

hey all,

my husband and my daughter has joined a group of tourists who visited southwestern ukraine in early august. for some wiki-info about the location: click here. in the meantime, my son stayed out with friends and i had the chance to polish off a job i've done in late july.

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here are some photos of the trip, enjoy.

this is the view from the room. they slept there for two nights.


they were hiking in the woods.

there were lots of blueberries within the forest, but once they got atop the mountains, they found a meadow loaded not only with flowers, but with lots of raspberries (not pictured here).

this part of ukraine is partly a mountaneous area. the slopes face south which makes the villages down at the foot of the hills able to produce various kinds of agricultural produce. i was meant to say that although the hills are high the climate is not a typical mountain one.

my daughter sitting on a moss-covered trunk. she enjoys being in a forest and has a keen eye to discover all the secrets of it. she is always to first to spot the only mushroom or strange flower in a 15 meter radius. she will either be a researcher or an artist. or both.

the river somehow slows down at the bottom.

these are the ruins of a castle of kanko, where kanko is a small village. hm, that's not very informative...

i wish i had been there, too!

cheers,

watching the water

she paints her nails, can you get used to it?
she is now your wife, can i get used to it?


the first 40 years of my life are leaving me.


a boat, loaded full is leaving the bay. some waves return, run up the shore, up to the rocks, the waves carve into the rocks and return back again to the water.

the waves are getting smaller.

the boat is getting smaller, its figure is getting harder and harder to notice in the distance.


you are on that boat.
i am on the shore.


the second 40 years of my life has just begun. and i think it's just time we talked.

bad and good

about the contest.

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the contest is over.

i have read so many great pieces. the pre-selection made judgement easier for the judges and the readers as well.

i retreated and was reluctant to read further on once i was cast out - and i know that's bordering nasty. for some of the time i don't do well in team-building.

i tend to go alone, like a lone hunter...

-

but i digress.

i loved to read so many uplifting and thought-provoking pieces. i loved that there were some poetry and some of the non-poetry pieces were quite poetic as well.

i loved sometimes the warm tone, the irony and the character building in the stories i voted for.

i loved to see myths created.

there was one among the many that stood out for me.

it literally made me sick. it was ranked high.

but i'm not going to continue on this matter.

-

you know... when you do something great, and you do it poorly, you are still making good. you are adding to all the good in the world.

and when you do something bad and you do it well, you are doing bad.

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but hey, i'm just an old fashioned, tradition-loving conservative who loves to believe that despite all the wrong that's been done and is being done right now as you read these lines (if you do, if anyone does, that is ;) there's love and justice after all in this world.

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about my entry in particular.

i am sorry not to have entered into the elite-club ;) but jason was right about his decision - no problems with that.

rhyming is not easy, not easy in one's mother tounge, let alone in a second language.

i tend to think the backstory of my entry was weak and i have not worked enough on it. i wanted to write a parabole (hm?) but it needs more working done.

that's all :)

-

unblanketed

this was my entry for Jason's and Stephen's contest named 'uncovered'. entering is now closed.

Jason was sorry not to have found this entry eligible for the contest, qoute: [...] the danger of rhyme is that it's exceptionally hard to make it look natural and effortless. In this poem, phrasings are often bent and strained for the purpose of the rhyme, and that makes the technique detract from the substance, rather than enhance it. The last stanza, however, was superb. You are never short on bravery, Szelsofa, and I have such respect for that! -

i am especially proud of the first part of the last sentence :)))

because i do like experiencing with new formulas.

and Jason's right - at some places the meaning, the sequence of the word gets twisted for the sake of rhyming. which is not a sure sign of good poetry... :S

well, at least i gave it a try....

in the past years i have entered at least four of Jason's contests - this was my fifth attempt i guess. out of the five contests i have made my way into the final fourties only once.

Unblanketed

‘got a bruise on my finger
that may never heal
the pain is set to linger
do you care to feel?

I used to have a wooden box
that I filled with my precious things.
I hid the box under the rocks -
it was the chamber of the kings.

I used to go there every morn’
to watch the marching of the knights -
the glory of their costumes worn
took away my fears of the nights.

I used not to mention my place,
the secret world to anyone
but one kid came, a happy face
my former joyeous life was gone.

He said he liked it – but he lied;
pointing fingers at me, laughter
from the kids as I nearly died -
and I stayed closed ever after.

Closed within walls, safe from the world
silence has become my blanket,
I touched no-one, as no-one stirred
me, nor the peace of my casket.

Years passed by, the mould on my wall
grew thick with age, dry with sorrow,
the flowers of mind learned to crawl
to survive, hope for tomorrow.

One day there was thyme in the breeze
felt like spring, though it was winter,
he offered his heart on his knees
my wall has begun to splinter.

summer news

dear all,

we are working on the house again, renovating.

building is done but now we have smaller tasks to complete such as cleaning up one room, plastering its walls and making a wooden floor.

sure we'll do it all by ourselves.

even if it means that a work that lasts an hour for a specialist is done for a couple of days. because we do it more carefully and yes, with less expertise. so... like trial and error, you know.

-
in the meantime, Jason at the clarity of night's having a contest. have a peek and read the entries. i will have my own entry, provided it makes into the final 40s.

to which my chances are low.

well.

that's what i've got :)

-
cheers,
szf

homeward bound - part three

this is the final part.
if you want an introduction to the mini-series, click here.
part one, click here.

part two is over here.

-

3.

Ten years have passed. I frequently ride Road 44. I have never seen the woman in orange again.
Why is she on my mind?
Is it the early rise, the long trip? Or the fog that has been sifting for hours. Or the erased trees: ragged bushes, empty trunks; black, dark grey and whitish-grey stripes. Berries and dead leaves on the branches. A winding road bordured by hawthorn and blackberries. Dewdrops on grass.
This is not Road 44.

Tomorrow is the birthday of my first grandchild. I saw him on photos, but have not held him more then thrice. His head smelling milk. His soft fingers closing on mine.
I took a deep breath and pressed my eyes beneath the glasses.

I heard a neigh from the left. Her feet wet with dew, a heavy mare trotted on the field. She had no saddle on: her back was steaming.
I checked upon the empty road, and back to the meadow again. She was far away. I turned up the volume.

Housetops, reddish-brown rectangular patches appeared in the fog. From the right, a tractor with a trailer lurching along turned up to the main road.
A bus was coming. The driver kept his hand on the giant steering wheel. The wiper struggled with the steam. The yellow curtain beside the driver’s seat was jigging behind the window. The rest of the bus was yet lost in the fog.

I saw a low-built red car behind me in the mirror. It was coming unexpectedly fast, and wanted to pass from the left, so I pulled a bit to the side. The sports car accelerated. The seats were covered in cow pattern.

I heard a bang and a crash from the front.
The trailer swayed. There were pineneedles encased on the creased sheet. There were water bubbles on the needles. Within each bubble there was the red car, and the bushes, blurred greyish-black.
My car spinned and I held onto the wheel. My legs became tense, as if I was balancing a heavy burden on my back.
I saw the bushes real close.
Then I saw nothing for a while.
Bushes again. Hawthorn twigs, slippery with dew, rounded, grey leaves. Ice will turn blue fruits black soon. I saw Grandma Lily facing me. How long have I not met her? Twenty, or twenty five years? It must be at least twenty five.
- Poppy, are you all right?
- Grandma Lily?
I was standing in their kitchen. I felt the smell of dill. Grandma was laughing. Her hands were sticky with eggyolk. She wiped them into her apron, took a couple of mittens and put the dill pie into the oven. I just had to smile, for she was smiling, too.
How much she did smile.

I felt dizzy and wanted to have a seat.

Actually, I was seated. The safety belt was pressing my belly.
Fog crept in from the windscreen.
The left window was lacking. I saw the mare again. She looked at me peacefully. I felt her breath. If I had just reached out I would have been able to touch her.
I was unable to move my hand.

I looked at Grandma Lily. I was standing beside her.
She hugged me. We went upstairs. She brought a photo album of unknown people in strange places in strange clothes: past, embedded in past. I remained happily silent, soaked in the album.
- So this is the terrace, where we usually were having breakfast. It is not visible, because this photo was made from Gretchen’s room. She did have a large amount of flowers, you know. And all those books. Oh, my. So, and this is the new shirt I bought your Grandpa just for the journey. And from this window, we could watch the sea.
The shine of the furniture in Grandma’s room was cloudy with age. I kept moving my fingernails in a hollow and watched Grandpa in his new shirt.

My cd-s were all messed up on the bottom of my car.
They were spotted with some liquid, and the damp from the top of the car kept dripping.
Some of the bolts of the roof’s carrier got loose.
Blue and white lights were flickering. There were more vehicles on the road. The bus, standing across the street was blocking the way. Some passengers left and were stamping and looking for one certain direction; some were cursing.
Footsteps were slatting on the wet blacktop. Somebody was standing beside my car and studied it. He was talking on his cellphone.

I was sitting in the garden, at my other grandmother’s. A huge pine casted shadows on the grass. I ran to the group of hortenzia bushes. I held one of the shrivelled, pale-brown blossoms in my hands. Between two faded petals I found a spider. His legs had so many tiny joints. The grass felt hot in the sunshine.

The village remained covered in fog. A grey ribbon, patched by small blobs moving about. An emergency car arrived. Bodies were lifted into vehicles.

There was an acorn moving back and forth on a branch of an oak. A strong wind shook it off to the ground.
Grandma Lily squeezed my hand in hers.
- It’s allright, hun. I’ll be taking care of you.

homeward bound - part two

if you are just joining this mini-series, this is the second part and may or may not stand alone.
i suggest you reading part one first.
also, you are welcomed to read the introduction as well.



2.

Nightlights.
Slippers.
Warm tracksuits.
A hot tea in a black mug.
Internet.
Road 44.
10 November 2007.
Fog, with occassional showers.
Early morning, low visibility.
Horse-driven wagon.
A jumper.
Car.
Multiple passings.
Slipping.
Lack of baby seat.
Responsibility.
Irresponsibility.
July 2008.
Single mother.
Alone.
Violence debarred.

homeward bound - part one

Homeward Bound

’Sometimes the lights all shinin on me;
Other times I can barely see.
Lately it occurs to me what a long, strange trip it’s been.’
(quote from Grateful Dead: Trucking)

1.
To the left, there’s emptiness. A meadow, perhaps. From the right, trees were coming into sight. Patches of trees; trunks, bushes in blob patterns. Autumn used an eraser. The trees used to be there all the time, but were invisible. Dark, grey stripes, part of strips along the road.

Fog started to clear up around seven in the morning. I got up at four, and I’ve been on the road ever since. It takes at least another two hours to get there.

I reached to the passenger’s seat and fished for a cd underneath a red folder. With one hand I opened and shoved it into the player. For a brief moment I had to close my eyes.

I saw a horseman on the field, along my car. A young white horse ridden by a strong man – but his face was covered by his long, wavy hair – or was it the fog?

I wished to talk to them, but I minded the road, because I felt a sudden jolt. My car faced a thick barricade of hawthorn and blackberries.
Beside the bushes, I saw a young woman. Frighteningly close to the hood. She looked swaying, her hands tightly folded in front of her stomach.
Have I just ran over her?

She was wearing a long, orange dress and a coarse scarf. She had that dreamy look in her eyes.

I grabbed my warm sweater, got out of the car and said:
- Uhm, hello, good morning. Are you all right?
- Good morning. – She replied, watching something between the car and the bushes.
- What happened? Do you need my help?
- My son was run over.

My forehead felt like ice and I hardly could speak:
- Was it me?
The woman looked on the ground, somewhere under the bushes. The sole of her soft sandals were soaking wet in the November fog. She let her folded hands move. They flew like a bird released. They circled in the air and finally, her palm rested in front of her face.
She was crying.

There was nothing on the ground.
Well, there were grass, fallen twigs, berries. Dew. Fading leaves and black berries. Greyish-green blades of grass. Droplets of dew in neat order along the edges of grass. A couple more days and the frost bites.

The orange dress flew in the wind. I gulped once again.
- Was it me?

She let her hands down. She was definitely looking at something on the road. I checked, but the road was empty. She began to speak. Her words came out very slowly.
- It happened two years ago. My son was sitting next to me. I shouldn’t have let him.
She began to cry again.

- Please, have a seat in my car. It’s cold. Let me take you home.
The woman shook her head and continued:
- He was so small.
Her hands created a cradle. She was looking at the baby. The place of the baby within her hands.
- I should have put him into his baby seat.
A tuft fell from her knot of hair. She let it loose. She did not fixed it.
- He wanted to sit on the front. Mom, right beside you! – that’s what he said.

I shivered in the fog and reached for her hands.
- Let me take you home.

The woman was looking at the brown leaves on the ground. She saw something that I did not. Finally, she looked me in the eye:
- I’d rather stay for a while, but thank you anyway.

Two mothers. Two women.
We kept looking into each other’s eyes for a long time.
I saw a long, winding road in her iris. A narrow ribbon of road, bordered by bushes. There was a distant bell from a church. Cornflowers swayed in the wind. A ribbon of road. Cornflowers.
A small garden lake.
A kid’s bicycle, painted red, lying in the grass.
Butterflies chasing each other above cabbages.
The smell of tomatoes.
- Mom!
A foggy road. A slow wagon on the left side of the road. Brown, heavey horses. Hay. Brake creaking. Passing. A toy dog, rocking beneath the mirror. Two cars from the front. Passing.
- Mom!
Silence. A silence too long.

I sighed. Or was it she who sighed? I remained silent for a while and put my hands on her shoulders to say goodbye:
- Take good care.
I returned to my car. I started the engine slowly so that I could wave her again.
To say goodbye to her, whose name I failed to ask.
But she was already gone.

foreword to 'Homeward bound'

within a week i will post my latest short story called 'Homeward bound'.

it is loosely inspired by some music and a movie.

i wrote it in Hungarian and the version published here is my translation. it totals to 1200+ words.

if you have any trouble understanding the reason behind a certain selection of word, word order, verb tense or style, just let me know. i probably have done something wrong and your help is much appreciated.

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it is about a journey.

there's not much going on there in the surface, it's merely a reflection, but some parts are autobiographical.

the major tragic elements are just made up ones.

sometimes we wish it was just easy, don't we?

-

there are three parts to it.

which is a bit strange - were there only one part, the story would make a small, stand-alone writing.

the short second part adds a twist to it.

you probably will notice that the third part is not necessary. i had some difficulties finishing it at first, but i came to like it at the end.

you be the judge.

-

the journey begins tomorrow, have fun.

inspired by a photo #1

Ewen's great photography is found here.
and here's my take on this particular PHOTO:
------
the king

grass grows where balls were held,
bridges, cities grew upon command;
defeated and expelled,
the king contemplates his former land.
-----
if the same photo inspires you in any way, please join us in the comments section.
I'll continously update this post with your versions.
have fun!

breaking news:flood

the following picture is from Budapest, the capital of Hungary - as far as I know there are no casualties or irreparable damages there.

this is not the case in the country.

people, most of them volunteers, have been working continously by rivers, small and large alike.

family houses and agricultural fields disappeared just within a matter of hours.

a great event i'm not attending

erm...
this is a short film about the upcoming Pest Megyei Szala (Szala of Pest County, where szala is an ancient Hungarian word rarely, if at all, used nowadays, with a meaning of 'assembly', or 'gathering'; that is, of a nation.)
this video gives you a glimpse of this festival, where old traditions are displayed. it is quite a dense video, with lots of different elements of our old heritage are shown by people who practice these things on a regular basis.
i hope you'll like it.

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my husband will attend the event by holding a small lecture on the role of traditions in our thoughts. unfortunately i can't be there, for i am travelling out of the border to the town of Nagyszalonta. the town used to be a Hungarian town for a thousand years, but it now belongs to Romania. Arany János, one of the greatest Hungarian poets was born here. Arany wrote a number of great ballads, based on Hungarian history and folklore. he is also famous in Hungary for translating the works of William Shakespeare. i read Shakespeare in both languages, and although I've got some difficulties understanding the original version, the Hungarian version has an excellent and noble language, too. Here's a link to one of his ballads called 'The Bards of Wales'.

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the reason i'm travelling there is that our choir is to sing at a mass in a church on Sunday morning. i'm so excited about it :)

and i am not tagged :)

my task is 'to list 12 things I like, 1 thing I love, and 8 things I hate. Then, if I dare, I am to tag 3 people.'

first of all, i love making lists that remind me to how much one can love one's life and one's circumstances.

secondly, i will not use 'hate'. i will use 'repel' - to express that whenever i may got in contact with that particular thing i feel the urge to step back. it is sort of a disgusting, sort of stay-away-from-me reaction.

12 'like'-s
1. sleeping, be it anytime of the day
2. reading good poetry
3. coming to understanding something complicated
4. tomatoes, freshly picked, still hot from the sun, from our garden
5. beef, most of all in the beef soup my husband makes
6. being helpful
7. hiking in woods or rock-climbing
8. a good workout
9. the smell of cows and hay, silo or forage
10. the smell of earth, preferably after a rain
11. the smell of sunshine on anyone's skin
12. singing!

1 love
1. having done a great job, feeling of accomplishment, either physical or mental

8 things that repel me
1. dishonesty, lying
2. too much noise around me
3. disorder, when there are no clear rules available
4. low standards of communication, disregarding rules
5. mud or sand between my fingers, getting dirty
6. certain topics of conversation including, but not limited to taxes, health insurance, grants and supports, ways of burocracy
7. certain odours including, but not limited to the smell of urine, excess and old sweat
8. the taste and smell of fennel or aniseed

update

dear all,
i finished that loooooong translation but other jobs found me.
for many reasons, i'm kind of stressed.
the garden is getting beautiful with all those great tulips i brought straight from holland in 2008. the cherry, sour-cherry and other trees are in full bloom.
my camera gave up, so i can not support my words with photos.
i keep visiting your blogs even if i don't comment.
cheers,

a joke i found today

communications major:
'what the hell is a palindrome?'
english major:
'no, it isn't'

erm...

i am alive :)

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elections are due this sunday. keep your fingers crossed. i can imagine all sorts of outcomes.

people are so easily talked into things upon the logic of their wallets.

a beer or two for the masses.

the current g'ment is handing out money for all sorts of organisations. the reason?

an 'x' at the right place on a small slip of paper this sunday. nothing else.

-

easters holidays were fine. we colored lots of eggs just like in previous years. we hid chocolates all over the garden on the early morning this monday and the kids went out and searched for the treats.

-

this tuesday was the last day of the eastern school holiday. we went to see a great memorial event at the village of isaszeg. in 1849, during the hungarian revolution of 1848/49, the hungarian army defeated the austrians. this success has been celebrated in the past 22 years by enthusiastic volunteers. in a well-guarded field, people ride horses, others fight on foot with traditional weapons of that time. cannons are shot.

the fight lasts for 45 minutes; the original one lasted for 3,5 hours.

there are women and kids among the participiants, but about 80% of the fighters are adult men. there are austrians, hungarians wearing various types of clothes, according to their rank and class, all mimicking original clothing.

the battle is in the afternoon and there are folk dancing and other events starting in the morning.

it was a great fun day.

-

unfortunately my camera has given up. i have to buy another one. hence is the lack of my own photos, but what the internet is for? the photos included are a painting by a famous painter than mór called 'the battle at isaszeg', and two postcards from the early 1900's about the celebrations of the memorial place. you may want to click on the photos to get some interesting details.

-

some statistics

general elections are on the way. the date is 11 April.

i'd love to make you see a short documentary based on official statistics, but it's in hungarian. the country is in an extremely bad condition.

anyway, here's the video - if you have any questions, just ask me!

here are some important facts and details, based on the video above:

between 2002 and 2010 -

the number of the unemployed has doubled.

households own six times as much money to banks.

the state owns 2,5 times more money to foreign banks (mainly, to IMF)

tax takes away more than 50% of the wages.

public transport is poor and expensive.

if we compare how many minutes does an average person have to work to be able to pay for a big mac, the ratio is the lowest in hungary. we have to work 54 minutes to get enough money to buy a big mac.

child care allowance is the lowest here.

the average wage of a teacher in hungary is one of the lowest in the world.

there are 3 million people living (or vegetating) below the poverty threshold in hungary. remember, that's one third of the total population. sounds tricky, doesn't it?

the number of beds in state hospitals has dropped to 70,000 - remember, that's for 10 million hungarians. great, right?

the rate of people doing any sport is as low as 7%.

the rate of morbidity (tuberculosis, suicide, alcoholism) is one of the highest.

the number of people dying per 1000 inhabitants is higher than is Syria, Viet Nahm, Lebanon...

out of 10 million people, 5,4 millions suffer from obesity, 3 million from smoking, 1 million are recorded alcoholists, 1 million has a psychiatric record for depression. 1 million has diabetes, 650,000 have tuberculosis.

one of every three hungarian women decides to have no child at all.

the total population of hungary decreases every year with a population of an average town (30,000-50,000 persons).

at an average, every day, seven suicides are committed (out of 10 millions)

-

hungarians are vanishing. the proportion of gypsies among newborn babies can be as high as 70-90% in some regions of the country.

-

now, as the elections are but a couple of weeks ahead, some believe in changes. some hope that this or that will win.

i too, have my choice and vote.

but i'm pessimist.

i hope you have better visions for your future country.

sorry for this gloomy post...

i'll be here and there, too

dear all, i have been just given a 61-page job. REVISED and UPDATED: it's 77 pages.
for more information: see the comments.
it means that my brain is occupied and is not supposed to let the Muse in. hm, which also implies that once it strikes, i will be more than pleased to receive its call.
and i will sure check your works and words too.
that's all for now :)

Four Women in The Night

for a short introduction, scroll down for Hi, I'm Pedro (part one and two).

if you want to skip it, that's okay. just read the four parts, and have fun answering the questions at the end.


---

Four Women in The Night (4*250 words)

Part 1. Thomas

His hands waving, Thomas walked loosely towards the bartender.
- Fine evening, huh?
The girl poured the drink, smiled, and returned to duty.
- So, how things’re going?
Thomas swung his arm, pushed himself up the counter and jumped on top. His tone was relaxed, with a sense of authority. He set his eyes on Laura’s.
A guy arrived.
Thomas eyed the newcomer. Then he leaned on his left elbow.
- I hear there’s a bar a few blocks down here. How’bout checking it out?
Laura was preparing pizza.
- Uhm, sorry, I’m quite busy now.
Thomas grinned, but his face was calm and soon he was smiling again. He moved the bowl of peanuts to the center of the counter and leaned even closer.
- I see, but this weekend sure is fine by you, hm?
He looked deep into the girl’s eyes. He was really close now.
Another guy appeared. His hands almost touched Thomas’s.
- Hey, watch yourself – Thomas exclaimed. - I have some business here and you disturb me.
The young man uttered something about working hard.
Thomas laughed at him and turned towards Laura.
- My dear, how about this weekend?
The young man abrupted again with some stupid remarks.
The girl was busy working and hardly focused on Thomas, so she asked:
- I’m sorry?
- This weekend, sure it’ll be fine, huh?
- I’m afraid, not.
Thomas raised his eyebrows:
- Next weekend?
Laura was calm.
- I’m sorry, but no.

Part 2. Orlando

Orlando arrived. He stood at the entrance for a while. He stood solidly, both feet on the ground.
There was only one man at the bar, sitting atop the left side of the counter.
Orlando approached. His steps were firm and deliberate, as if he was using space on purpose. He got to the counter and took the rightmost end of it. His soft hands rested on the shiny surface.
The other man looked at him, but Orlando averted his eyes.
With a calm tone in his voice, he greeted the girl behind the counter, and asked for something to eat.
- Tonight we have special pizzas. You may want to try them.
- You got me nterested. What toppings can I have, please?
Laura listed the possibilities.
Orlando watched her face. He listened carefully for her words.
The man on the left kept talking. He even pushed the peanuts to the middle, but Orlando did care to touch them. He was waiting for his pizza.
- Thank you.
Laura smiled back at him.
Someone else appeared.
A debate has started between the newcomer and the one sitting on the counter.
Orlando listened to their arguments. At times he stole glimpses at their movements, too.
Then he returned to look at the bartender. Head slightly tilted, he smiled.
- What are your plans for the future?
The girl smiled back.
- There are possibilities – she started but was interrupted by a noise. Laura turned around and adjusted the machine.

Part 3. Eric

Eric was waiting beside his coffee, while someone entered and headed to the bar. This man was soon gesturing wildly, leaning towards the girl. The girl was busy. She hardly seemed to stop.
Later on, another entered and took his place by the counter. The second man was relaxed. The girl was replying a lot to the first man, but attended the second one more frequently.
Rising from behind, Eric moved forward. He focused on the girl. He took the middle position between the two men. The one sitting on the counter spat that he should better mind his own business and harshly brushed Eric’s arms away.
Eric explained:
- I’m here just as right as anyone. Just look at how hard she’s working. Doing her best to serve us here and you are disgracing her.
The man on his left cared no attention to him.
The girl put the sandwich on a clay plate. Eric slowly pulled it closer and looked into Laura’s eyes. - Thank you.
His voice was deep. The girl returned his look. A smile was emerging, but instead she blushed and returned to her duties.
Eric ate the sandwich bit by bit. He was not hurried at all.
The man on the left kept picking on him, and at times he replied, which seemed to have bothered his rival.
- Man, I don’t want no trouble. Behave yourself and respect the lady.
Laura looked Eric once again.
A deep breath was on the rise.

Part 4. Laura (an interview)

- The first one was Thomas. What do you think of him?
- He had a definite man-like aura around him. He was confident. He was open about his intentions.

- Does it mean you liked him?
- Well, not exactly. He invaded my space, my physical world. He got very close. He thought too much of himself. He directly looked at my body, which I found rude. He looked fine and all but he was pushing himself too much.
- How was Orlando?
- Wow, the second guy was cool. Smooth and intellectual.
- What did you like about him?
- He was kind and paid attention to me. To what I said and how I said. He listened. He got the brains. He was a challenge to my mind somehow. Yes, I liked him.
- How do you think a relationship between you and Orlando would turn out (provided you chose him)?
- Calm and relaxing. Fine.
- And what about Eric?
- Strange. He just turned up - out of nowhere. But he acted as if he had been around here like a hunter waiting for prey.
- Like… offensive?
- No, he was cool! His manners overwhelmed me.
- Was he soft?
- Hm, no. Strange, isn’t it? He praised the way I was doing my job, he watched me, but he was not pushing it.
And he had that look, that shine in his eyes. There was passion inside. He reached for my soul.

---

QUESTIONS for my kind readers:

question1 - who did you think won Laura's heart? (why? - optinal)

question2 - which one did you think i played?

question3- any comments on the play, the writing itself, technical remarks, whatever (optional, but recommended)

-

bonus music: dead can dance's yulunga.

Hi, I'm Pedro (part two)

UPDATE:

Eric's part has been finished. Now I'm working on Laura's.

---

this is the introduction to part two.

i am to write about a role-playing game we got engaged into during last Sunday.

there were four players. one had to play a female bartender, and the remaining three were to seduce her into.. say... a nice evening, perhaps a movie, or a drink somewhere, possibly into some more... *winks*

each man had to do his best to get the girl.

the girl had to decide.

-

instead of a dry summary of the events in a couple of lines, i decided to write a 4*250 word piece, one piece for each character.

arriving one after another, each man appears and stays at the bar and acts according to his intentions.

the girl is the bartender. she watches them, might or might not analyse them for herself - but when the scene ends she has to pick one.

-

the girl is Laura, the men, in order of appearance are Thomas, Orlando and Eric.

so far i've written two, one for Thomas and one for Orlando.

once I'm done with Eric and Laura, i'll get back here to you.

-

writing the pieces is an exciting experience for me. i've been through the whole thing, so there's inspiration. after finishing the scene, we (the players) talked over our motives, actions, body movements. the one who played Laura gathered her reasons for picking the one she did.

all those who played the men explained their own behaviour and some of the interactions they had during the game.

it was fun, totally fun.

writing it is great fun too, because i have to stick to the 250-word limit and i try to stay as unemotional as possible.

-

i'm so not telling anyone which part i played. also i'll withhold Laura's decision. you'll have to guess these and explain it in the comments section. don't worry!!! it won't be difficult at all.

-

winter haiku

i.

a dead bird, fallen

frozen in the pile of snow -

the sunlight is cold

ii.

white flakes soar about -

a squirrel searches the snow

for hidden walnuts

iii.

a blaze of ice roars

through a row of barren trees -

skeletons' galore

iv.

a drip, another

ice melts drop by drop by drop

a puddle awaits

Pedro part two is on the way -

Hi, I'm Pedro (part one)

I'm from Bolivia. I'm 38. I am a native indian, but now I live in the city and work as a painter. I have no wife and no children I know of. I paint walls, but sometime in the future I'll be painting canvas.

-
so, I'm back from the training.
there were four trainers from Berlin, Germany; one of them originally came from the US and there were six trainees. out of the six, there was one girl form Belorus (she's studying at a university in Budapest), and the remaining five were Hungarians.
-
i did expect something else. if i had known about the real subject* of the training, i wouldn't have possibly taken part at all.

but now, having taken part, i think i would have regretted if i had missed it.

*it is a training basically for those who have the body of a woman, but feel uncomfortable with this. i don't think i want to go further into the subject.

-

i'm fine as a woman, and this training was basically not targeted at me. this is clear. i just took part b/c a friend of mine has asked me to.

what i learned was that while for a normal woman like me, it can be extremely funny to learn things about how men walk, stand, sit and eat, how do they behave, and how can you, as a woman dress up like a man, and mask your face to look like a man; it is not fun at all for some of those people i've met yesterday.

three of the Hungarian trainees were in some stages of transition. one of them is on hormones and has undergone at least one surgery.

for a 'normal woman' like me a makeup that made my face manly was interesting and fun. role playing was a great source of learning.

but for those people, let me call them unfortunate and/or desperate; these opportunities are of elemental need.

it was kind of shocking for me to see them suffer in the body nature gave them.

i've heard of tran_sse_xuals.

i even have ga_y and le_sbian friends. no problems with that.

but perhaps this was the first time i experienced their problem from so close a perspective. it felt almost like a first-hand experience.

-

in the second part i will recall one of the actual role playing games i took part in.

to be continued whenever i'm ready with my latest paid job in progress.

-

say goodbye

long was the night
a velvet, black ribbon
with lampions scatter'd among the bushes
shimmering, waning to ashes and sparkling again

soft was the light
honey dribbling over parched bread
teeth grinding, mouth closing, just another crumb

hunger and need

balance and solace

I can not
Propose
Be
To you
Your wife

never
and a yes, for ever.

i had a dream
but infinity ends here

i am to remain:
the reminder to stay
the rest.

---
(this to a relationship of 22 years)
- - -

anything might happen.

anything and the opposite as well.

just hand me another kleenex.

:)))

and no, i'm not letting myself into melancholy, because i have a great appointment for this Sunday - a short training program on discovering our inner self. about the feminine and the masculine within.

a friend of mine has talked me into this.

it's free and the instructor speaks only English. i might even have to translate at times.

we'll just see.

education

this post is about the education of my kids, a short review of the Hungarian educational system, and finally, some thoughts on (not) writing :)

-

I have started to monitor my kids' school activities, homeworks more closely. within a year, they both will have to apply to another school. it involves exams. I think we should better start this early.

my son's got the brains, but he refuses to use them.

a year from now, he'll have to pass written tests from Hungarian and Math and he'll have an oral English exam, too. the system will check his marks from Hungarian, Math, English, History at the end of the 14th semester (end of 7th grade) and at the 15th semester (halfway at the 8th grade). we are gathering points. the race is tough to get into highschool.

it seems that he has not learned how to learn.

we were too busy accommodating him to all those various schools he attended.

we were busy surviving in various conditions.

i don't know if it's too late or not, but i'll do my best to help him.

-

my daughter likes to play the dumb, which is she not. she's very slow, but can sparkle. she's fine in all subjects. she's in the 3rd grade now, which means that next January she's going to write exams from Hungarian and Math to get into a secondary school/highschool.

-

for those, who are unfamiliar with the education system in Hungary, here's a short review:

all kids must go to a preschool at the year preceding their first year of school education.

kids start school at the age between 6-7. some kids start at 6 sharp, some as late as 7.5. parents have the right to decide on the right time. parents are supported by the preschool nurses, and by various consellors in making the right decision about the *when*.

once a kid gets into elementary school, he can stay there for 8 years. that's the maximum amount of elementary education.

secondary education may start after grades 4, 6 and 8.

as you have guessed, secondary education lasts either for 8, 6 or 4 years, resp.

secondary education finishes around the age of 18 and the not-so-kids with the high school diploma (GCE) can head to obtain BSc, MSc, or some other, technical qualifications in universities, or in specialized schools.

-

on the writing front:

i am quite unsatisfied with the writers' group I joined a year or so ago. here's my rant.

at the moment I have some ideas in my head, but it's all in a haze. as if I haven't decided which should go first.

but for most of the time, my mind is occupied by fragments like 'the novel, belonging to the epic genre, where...' (excerpt from my son's Hungarian book); or 'the revolution failed in 1849 and all generals were executed on ....' (quote from his History book); and pieces of arguments like 'you have to learn more so that you have more options to choose from'; and 'there's not enough time now for watching a movie, because I have't seen your math yet'; and 'please let us review this passage again'; and 'I know you are not interested, but...'; or 'I want you to reach your highest potential' and so on....

-

but apart from that, be assured I read your blogs, which are definitely more interesting than mine these times.... and i trust one day the muse hits again... she just doesn't find the way into my dense mind :))))

I do try to find some time to read, though. i hope it helps.

life atop the roof

these photos were made by our neighbours.

October 2006. the roof is not yet ready. we are treating the wooden frame with a sulphurous mixture in order to protect it from fungi.

December 2009. watch the trail of a squirrel from the pine up the roof. you may want to click on the photos for details.

January 2010. smoke from the chimney indicates that we bake something in the oven, or we felt cold; or both. you know our oven provides heat for the rooms, but also we can use it for cooking or baking.

too much or to little?

when thoughts attack and inspiration fuels my artistic stumbling, i write.

-

sometimes the events and actions are so alive and intense that i feel a need to guide the reader through it all - but i don't think it works all the time at all. neither is a desireable thing in writing. there has to be something left out for the reader to imagine.

this technique can easily result in an over-explained text that is too dull and complex to follow.

-

some other times however, i feel that since i, the writer do not know all the things about what's going on, plus some things are more than obvious, i have this tendency to omit some details - but this may risk continuity. i, the writer know about the surrounding and background story that explains/supports the events/actions, but what is obvious for me may not be clear for the reader.

-

there must be a fine balance...
i think revision is one solution to this dilemma.

hm, i wish i wrote more to see which type of mistake is more frequent in my writing... ;)

and you? how about your tendencies?

do you think there is an antidote to either of these mistakes besides revision and lots of reading of good literature?

-

in the meantime i'm off to write...

no, this time it's for money and the subject is table grapes, and their home-scale production.

halo

I think I have just finished with the first draft of Halo. I started writing it in late 2007, stopped writing around March 2008 and never have added more than a couple of words and or done some minor revisions ever since. but this last December I decided to stop dragging writing anymore, put the delay to an end and voilá.

now I've got 7488 words, out of which 2207 was added in the last week. this is my longest ever writing. revisions might take more than half of it away, but still.

I think I'm just learning. I hope I do.

beta readers are kindly invited...

more information on the project is available on my other blog.

-

we have started learning Benjamin Britten's A Ceremony of Carols this week. If there is a virtual purring insert one hearty one to visualize my feelings about being on the path to be able to properly sing it. just yum. yum.

you can watch some of the pieces on YouTube.

-
so, I'll definitely let Halo rest for a couple of days.
in the meanwhile, be sure to visit Jason's contest named 'Silhouette'.