SAINT JOHN'S NIGHT

Let me do (for a change) some good promotion for the Portugues culture and its social enviroment. Let me share with you something beautiful that happened in the night from 23th to 24th of June in Porto, something that is so unique, that probably doesn't have any equivalent in the whole wolrd - the so called Night of Saint John is one of the most beautiful holidays I have ever experienced in my life. In the honor of the saint, who favours lovers, all the city goes down to the river, sharing joy and compassion in a very special way;
People (thousand and thousands of them) gently hit eachother's heads with the plastic hammers, which create thin and sizzling sound. The hammers can be replaced with the pink garlic flowers on long stalks (but these are a bit more disturbing then the first:)) Evening magic is complemented by beautiful coloured burning paper ballons, which are ascending (assumably together with the wishes and prayers) towards the spacious black sky, and magnificent long-lasting fire-works, launched from the three river boats anchored in the middle of River Douro.
The holiday is accompanied by many other activities and simbolisms (dinning of Sardine fish - Sardinhada, decorating city with the colourful ribbons and balls ext.), but once again, the best thing of the holiday is the gesture with the hammers, which brings people together (if only for one night) in a very unique way; while you are gently hitting other person's head with the plastic hammer and showing sincere smile on your face, you can not escape the alchemy that grows between you-two quickly and in a very special way. This is the only day, the only time when you are 'allowed' to give attention (love, compassion, joy of celebration) to anyone you wish, when ever and how many times you want. And what is even better, everyone is happy to recieve your affection, whether young or old, sophisticated or simple, poor or rich.

Wonderful holiday! If you go to Porto, go in the time of "São João"!:)

In the name of...

Today marks one week and one day since the morning, when a strange silence woke me up. "What is this," I asked myself, "How can it be, that my street is empty at a time when usually it is teeming with people? What are all these low-flying helicopters doing above my head?" It seems as though we were just before the bombing." Then I think more and I remember...the Pope has arrived to the city.
Pope brings hope, they say. Great. I really didn't want to discuss about money, why the quality of positive human feelings (which elicit from admiration of the Pope and his presence among people) are unapproachably more valuable than material sacrifices required by his four-day visit. But come on, all has its limits! Portugal is in severe economic crisis (soon after Greece), threatened by financial meltdown. However, a clever government declared a national holiday everywhere, where the Holy Father pleased to step and give away his hope and compassion. If I'm not mistaken, in practice this meant at least two new festive days. You can imagine what does one day of inertion mean for the state economy, especially if it is in such dire straits ... No, no, this is something one sober individual can't understand.
I respect all catholic believers and I know that in their system of belief Pope represents someone who is closest to one, whom they aim to - to God (although, if I may, in this striving they all too often forget that the latter doesn't sit on the clouds, but they themselves are part of Him and therefore very much responsible for their actions), yet ...
The reality of today doens't speak in favor of Portugal. Let's say that the pope brought endless hope and love, that he brought together all the believers (ie the vast majority of the Portuguese) for four days - marked by the highest human values. Wonderful job! But what about the day after his departure? I haven't noticed any particular optimism, great hope, any refined human virtues, and even less a recrutial of the (poor) state economy. No, the streets were with same melody again and they hosted the same people and the same concerns (only one day older).
Why? Because; True human virtues can not be learned in such partial way (when the Pope comes, in the time of Christmas and at Easter...), conquest of them requires continous self-preoccupancy and finding your own truth (based on your own experiences and feelings). Then the hope (as well trust) comes by itself, it grows out from the vision that we can have control over our lives and creating, that the quality of our life depends mainly on ourselves and on what we think, what we do and how much are we in tune with our wishes and that, to which we devote our time, effort, our love and our life.

Why the hell this shoes?!

I guess it is illegal to make anti-advertisment for shoes, so I will try to avoid photographic material. Though, there are plenty of shoes to see - shoes, that have nothing to do with aesthetics.

I have always been attracted to detail. That doesn't change here, in Porto, where I've come across one funny "General Shoesy Surprise."
Sometimes the sun is very strong, and that diffuse light before the spring-shower forces me to look towards the ground and find a moment of peace for my eyes. But look, the devil, then I see all those shoes ...
Then I see young people wearing this multi-beloved sneakers that are a bit wider and higher, so they can stuck their trousers inside. And then there are those, how do we call them?, yellow and hairy half-cowboy ones (which, I thought, died out decades ago), then there are ALLSTAR shoes (which are legendary, but they don't go so well together with the black trousers or linseed skirt, which you have bought in Zara), and of course, then there are Nike sneakers of all types or even ordinary sport slippers, which we used to wear in lessons of physical education - comfortable but ugly as hell... Well, ofcourse you can find people that doens't hurt the eye too much, although they have maybe inherited the foot-wear habits from their grandfathers.
Nevertheless, these shoes are not the worse thing. Worse then the shoes is a combination of shoes and clothing, why shoes (which are somehow more old-fashioned or infantile) almost never blend with the dress, the materials and colors which currently dominate the global ready-made fashion (by the way, also worthy of consideration). Of course, men are generally slightly less aesthetic then women, but that is mostly the guilt of global clothing industry, which offers to women ten times greater selection of clothes. However, I have to admit that woman are surprising me more in negative then in positive direction as well. In my opinion the most aesthetically arranged and most consistent with their clothing is older population who has maintained and preserved that good measure from old days.

After all, why do I care? But I do. I always care about everything and I can not pretend that I don't see. And I have special affinity for nice shoes ... I'm sorry, I am just about to make a horrible generalization again, but it's is obvious: Portuguese general "Foot-wear Taste" (if not a general taste for dressing) is worse than I was accustomed to. When you look at a being in those shoes, in that outfit ... No. Things just don't go together. It's not the best.

Long live exceptions, long live the children with their fairytale-shoes! :)

Which feet are Portuguese?

As the question of this publication, its content may be absurd as well. Anyway, something tells me that my social discoveries of the "West" (eventhough very personal), shouldn't be kept just for myself.

People often ask me: "What is your opinion about the Portuguese?" Please, not this question again! At this point two things crash into each other. Knowing that each individual is unique and irreplacable and that because of this we can't make so banal genaralizations, and on the other hand the fact, justified by the simple everyday life - that however, there are cultural patterns that have conglutinated inside human personalities and are now seen as some sort of common social ways of behavior and practise.
Portugal has long been in the claws of dictatorship, long has been pushed outward to the edge of the ocean, that is why Europe's influence here has not reached such a power, as for example in more centrally positioned European countries. Turbulent history, from its see-adventures, physical distance and isolation through to the impact of Roman Catholic Church, has certainly left a deep mark in treatment of human relations, ways of behaviour, etc..
If two years ago I had beed asked what do I think of Portuguese, I would have droped the idea of comparison with the Balkan or Mediterranean nations; the people who say what they feel, the people who give all what they can to the others, which are temperamental, simple, direct. Well, today I do not think like that anymore.
Not because almost everybody pays a drink for himself, because the immediacy and temperament reveal, more than anywhere else, during the collective spactation of footbal match(I am already shaking from this terrible generalization, but otherwise it doesn't go) but more than all this, because of one collective pattern that surprises me so much and which I still can not figure out completely: "Duality and discreetness of personality" - how the Portuguese warmth and openness is so obviously shown outwards, but not inwards. In other words, how they can be so warm outside, but so unready to share their intimacy? Let me explain by example that it is very obvious.
When friends meet, they usually exchange a lot of nice words and make effort that their conversation (with the lightweight issues) runs in the direction that will create good feelings. If this is a male-female acquaintance or female-female one, mandatory sign of greeting (no exceptions) is a kiss (or two kisses - on each cheek one). When it comes to men's ties, ofcourse kisses are expected to be replaced with handling. Thus, at first glance this country appears to be smelling of love and compassion. But the smell soon fades, when we notice the other side, which co-creates the state of duality - a sort of shabbiness or precaution in sharing intimacy. To pursue a practical example; the friends, of which i have spoken before, want to maintain friendly conversation and a smile on the face even when it is necessary to approach things differently. For example, when a friend is to be noted of things that he does bad, when we want to speak out important things, which we feel bad about, etc.. In such cases, the moments of grace and kindness just make the job harder, since important issue (finding) requires a degree of seriousness (even inevitability) in order to achieve its purpose. Here, one can not find this seriousness too often. Even family ties (those, which I had the opportunity to meet) all too often host this very dualism and seem to be losing some of the depth and intimacy. The intimacy (touching the love life, sexuality, perception of the world, etc..) is even more limited speech within the relationships between parents and children. Even a warm hug is often replaced by conventional two kisses or handshake. Thus even a cold-blooded Slovenian (if he is not really too Slovenian) could feel like a photo negative of the Portuguese here - colder outwards (apparently), and more direct when it comes to human relationships .
How was this dualism created? Why are so many people afraid to face eye to eye? They can not deal with reaction? They are taught that the reaction should be always good, that they should always attract a smile? Don't they know that the immediacy is the shortest path to happiness for both individuals? Why this enormous "Caution"? Can the reasons be dangerous history of conquerors, terrifying dictatorship, the church with its lessons of humility and sinfulness, politics, (un)culture of media? Who knows. Probably a little bit of everything ...

Ultimately, however, I must not forget that the Portugal is the place, where I found people that have grown closest to my heart. So, once more, I am back, where I started, with the absurd question about the feet ...:)





p.s.: There is no Portuguese feet in the picture, there are two Slovenian and one German. But it's true that (not long ago) all three were wading in the big Portuguese see. :)

Porto

I prefer Porto to Lisbon. Certainly, the latter is beautiful as well, and obviously offers even more from a cultural point of view. However, there is something that makes it less personal than Porto; maybe its vastness, large river delta, maybe high aristocratic houses, sky-scrapers which are stealing the clouds, or maybe it is just international soup of Portugueses, Brazilians, Asians, Africans and tourists, which flows through the wide streets of the capital. Maybe it is just me. Probably.
Nevertheless, I feel warmer when I look at Porto; when I walk up the steep streets, accompanied by colorful row houses, lined with unique ceramics

(and many more such, who has thrown ceramics down and now offer home to happy pigeons),

when I look at dark old port city with its black soul, which (it seems) once had to fall into a rainbow, why otherwise it couldnt wear all these colors, that shine so much, when golden sun of spring decides to illuminate the city.

In all of this joyful viewing I have to be careful not to be stared up into the sky too much, why I could easily overlook some fresh dog stuff, of which Porto never runs out (or as Porto people like to point out: "Watch out for mines !":)).
In Porto you can find many special characters. One can easily meet a poor guy who is talking to himself, or just screaming at the sky, which sent him this miserable days. There are even more of those, who are firmly convinced that their official duty (if not life mission) is to park your car and receive a shiny coin for the well done hard job.
The old town lives during the day - filled with people in their everyday tasks and (more often) shopping. In the night, pigeons, gulls and the poor reign the city. Well, the students have their special corners as well. There you can find those special bars, that are so hard to find in other europeanized capitals - gilded with art and familiarity, they seem as the living room, where you have grown up.
Still, the most beautiful is when you go down to the powerful ocean,

to the big water, which is crushing rocks into golden-yellow sand, water which never stops, as it does the warm Mediterranean Sea - awakening with people and falling asleep with the peaceful evening dawn.