Tonight there's a free concert in Tivoli. Every year this happens. Students pour into the streets and drink in the parks before they stagger into the makeshift outdoor venue, singing and swaying.
I'm too old and tired and sick to show my face. Besides, I have some writing to get done.
5.07.2008
I went to the hospital.
That's right, I did. A Slovenian hospital!
This was about two weeks ago. I was having severe stomach pains and acid reflux that burned my throat. Lisa dragged me out of bed, where I was curled up in the fetal position and crying, and got me inside a cab.
The hospital here is organized like the university. Rather than just one central building, several wards are scattered around the main complex. I stepped out of the cab and saw streets lined with leafy trees fluttering in the sunlight. After entering the wide lobby the entire hospital becomes a labyrinth of slender halls. You can tell the hospital was built in the 70's: the walls are painted in solid mid-tones and corners and edges are rounded. The interior smelled clean, like a hotel room. After asking several people where the emergency room was, an exuberant middle-aged man in a smooth green smock lead us to the reception desk, but not after chatting with everyone he passed on the way.
When we told him we were from Canada, he immediately mimed sweeping the floor. He likes curling.
We sat in a narrow hallway. Elderly patients laid on gurneys down the length of the hall, murmuring to themselves or staring stoically at the ceiling. Someone called my name. I walked into one of the many small rooms adjoined to the hallway and hopped up onto the examination table. A young woman entered the room and pulled a pink curtain behind her. An intern was assigned to me; I got lucky. I'll digress a moment and explain something. In my short thirty-odd years, I've seen the inside of a hospital more times than most honest people. In my experience, having an intern examine you before the senior doctor swaggers in and coughs out his final diagnosis is like nibbling on a garden salad before tucking into foie gras.
I won't extend that metaphor anymore than I have to.
We waited in the crowded hall, shifting our legs to avoid the incoming gurneys carrying groaning patients. After an hour I was called back in and the doctor, in his staggered English, told me I was indeed suffering from acid reflux. He didn't know why. He wrote me a prescription and ordered me to see a specialist. Not just any specialist, but the kind that gleefully slides a fiber-optic camera down my esophagus and probes around my stomach. Everything else was fine. My bloodwork came back normal and the examination found nothing egregious.
I think, objectively, the moment was fascinating. I've never received medical treatment in a foreign country though I knew in advance that Slovenia has excellent healthcare. I found myself taking mental notes on how the hospital functioned; unfortunately, the pain and anxiety distracted me from my amateur observations. If I sit under a tree, with an open book draped over my thigh, my thoughts will have a chance to mingle.
This was about two weeks ago. I was having severe stomach pains and acid reflux that burned my throat. Lisa dragged me out of bed, where I was curled up in the fetal position and crying, and got me inside a cab.
The hospital here is organized like the university. Rather than just one central building, several wards are scattered around the main complex. I stepped out of the cab and saw streets lined with leafy trees fluttering in the sunlight. After entering the wide lobby the entire hospital becomes a labyrinth of slender halls. You can tell the hospital was built in the 70's: the walls are painted in solid mid-tones and corners and edges are rounded. The interior smelled clean, like a hotel room. After asking several people where the emergency room was, an exuberant middle-aged man in a smooth green smock lead us to the reception desk, but not after chatting with everyone he passed on the way.
When we told him we were from Canada, he immediately mimed sweeping the floor. He likes curling.
We sat in a narrow hallway. Elderly patients laid on gurneys down the length of the hall, murmuring to themselves or staring stoically at the ceiling. Someone called my name. I walked into one of the many small rooms adjoined to the hallway and hopped up onto the examination table. A young woman entered the room and pulled a pink curtain behind her. An intern was assigned to me; I got lucky. I'll digress a moment and explain something. In my short thirty-odd years, I've seen the inside of a hospital more times than most honest people. In my experience, having an intern examine you before the senior doctor swaggers in and coughs out his final diagnosis is like nibbling on a garden salad before tucking into foie gras.
I won't extend that metaphor anymore than I have to.
We waited in the crowded hall, shifting our legs to avoid the incoming gurneys carrying groaning patients. After an hour I was called back in and the doctor, in his staggered English, told me I was indeed suffering from acid reflux. He didn't know why. He wrote me a prescription and ordered me to see a specialist. Not just any specialist, but the kind that gleefully slides a fiber-optic camera down my esophagus and probes around my stomach. Everything else was fine. My bloodwork came back normal and the examination found nothing egregious.
I think, objectively, the moment was fascinating. I've never received medical treatment in a foreign country though I knew in advance that Slovenia has excellent healthcare. I found myself taking mental notes on how the hospital functioned; unfortunately, the pain and anxiety distracted me from my amateur observations. If I sit under a tree, with an open book draped over my thigh, my thoughts will have a chance to mingle.
5.01.2008
Rog appears in the news.
I wrote about the gargatuan squat known as Rog last year for my journalism class. The squat is making the rounds again:
The future of the former Tovarna Rog (Horn) bicycle factory on Trubarjeva cesta iscausing controversy. On one hand, it is an ugly abandoned building that the citywants to put to reasonable use. On the other hand, it is a lively, autonomous centre for freedom and creativity, which the occupants want to preserve.
Slovenian film nominated for Oscar.
From the Slovenian Times:
Luzar's film "Vucko" (Wolfie) about a lonely retired man looking for ways to meet new people has been nominated among films from Germany, Spain, Israel and the Czech Republic.
The five finalists were selected among 45 works from 29 countries, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences said on its website.
4.27.2008
A postcard from Ljubljana, and others.
As I've mentioned in my previous post, now that I've made the transition from tourist to (temporary) resident I personally find it difficult to write about anything extraordinary as it applies to me. I think my mind is elsewhere, most likely the future, and that does affect the content in a diary-like medium like a blog.
Spring in Ljubljana is a gorgeous time of year. Tumultuous, yes, with it's moody weather swinging from grey and stormy to pleasant and warm within a matter of hours. We've been going on short walks in the city, hunting for medieval houses we read about in our guidebook and sipping coffee at the banks of the Ljubljanica River.
We are fast approaching our departure date. There are few trips I want to take before we leave, though we will always regret not seeing this or visiting that - the common complaint of tourists worldwide - without appreciating what we have seen during our stay. Am I going to miss Ljubljana? Yes. But I also miss my life in Vancouver, which was much longer than my life here. Will I come back? Perhaps, but not for a long time.
In other news, I submitted three poems to a small outfit that wants to publish chapbooks. I'm still waiting for their reply. I also have a project waiting for me back in Canada, but I can't tell anyone a word of it until, well, I don't know really know when. I have to complete three essays and undergo one exam before I leave.
Lisa was kind enough to inform our esteemed readers that we were traveling a few weeks ago. So, here are some of my impressions of our recent Balkan trip. These are written as thumbnail sketches, based on memory and notes, so they may appear too impressionistic and fleeting (or poorly written). During the trip, I was writing poems for publication while riding on trains and in solemn hotel rooms.
Bulgaria
We've been to this lovely country before though we stayed longer this time around. This was our first stop and for some reason I was completely exhausted when I stepped off the train. We got a private room in a hostel and stayed for the Easter weekend to gain momentum for the next leg of our trip. Sophia is huge, busy and exciting. We checked out dilapidated Communist monuments and wandered the streets at night looking for booze and food. One thing I'll say about traveling in the Balkans: eat dinner early. Nothing is open at night, expect greasy fast food joints. I can imagine kitchen brigades slipping away at night to tuck into spinach burek and a lager, forgoing the customary meal at home. However, we ate at one of the best Moroccan restaurants I've ever visited, though an odd plastic smell permeated the dining room and it made eating there a tad unpleasant. Oh, well.
Macedonia
To be honest, I don't have much to say about Macedonia and Skopje at the moment. Skopje, rebuilt after an earthquake in 1963, is mostly replaced with plain concrete. The train and bus station is a marvel, though. Very blocky and utilitarian, with much unused space, but the interior is airy. Huge, too.
The Turkish Quarter is lovely. We bought baklava and walked the hilly, cobbled streets. The neighbourhood cafes were inviting and crowded affairs.
Ohrid: Seated at the bank of Europe's supposedly oldest lake, surrounded by craggy mountains, I really enjoyed this town. We visited a tiny monastery situated on a rocky outcrop. We then stumbled upon a massive archeological dig around a cathedral. The workers pointed out the trail as we navigated around the wheelbarrows and pickaxes. We saw the standard ruins left behind by the Romans. Ohrid is worth visiting.
Kosovo
We were there for about 24 hours. I was surprised, after hearing about this newly independent nation in the news for so many years, that it would be so bustling. People were everywhere. The street outside our hotel was a long trench, as were most of the streets in the surrounding area. Turbo-folk was blasted from every angle.
On the highway to Pristina: Olive-coloured military transports rumbling past our packed bus. Checkpoints manned by bored soldiers puffing on American cigarettes. Half-built houses, three times the size of the average family home in Vancouver, were the dominant landmarks. Building supply stores were seen every twenty kilometers. The highway severed a vast grassy plain, and gray mountains cradled the landscape; storm clouds crept towards us from behind them.
For some odd reason, no one was smoking on the sidewalks of Pristina, yet men were selling cigarettes from card tables on the curb. We ate at a Chinese restaurant near the UN headquarters; it was very good, very filling. Children sold lighters and flashlights on the street, shining their wares at customers seated in restaurants and cafes. Route 66, an American restaurant selling burgers, tempted us from afar. I craved onion rings and beer.
Albania
We had to walk across the border early one morning to reach Albania from Ohrid. The sign welcoming visitors was dotted with bullet holes, shot from the Albanian side. After one taxi ride we took a long minibus ride through the mountains, driving on winding roads. The driver fed me cigarettes and blared techno from a new radio. He bought a live fish in a plastic bag from a roadside market and threw it into the trunk; we could hear the poor thing flapping listlessly for a portion of the trip.
Albania is one of the most mountainous countries I've ever visited. From my perspective, there is no flat land in that nation, just one mountain rising and falling into another one; villages clung to the sides of those green giants.
Tirana: Cigarettes and passports sold on cardboard boxes. Cars, scooters and trucks racing on roundabouts. Mosques pepper the skyline. Excellent coffee, terrible ice cream.
From Durres we took a ferry, a massive ship with several dining areas and private cabins. We slept in the "common room." Passengers made makeshift beds out of their clothes, though some had blankets. Others slept in the halls. I stepped out to the deck and saw the infinite darkness of the Adriatic Sea at night.
Oh, and Durres is interesting. We checked out the mall (I haven't been in one for two years) and ate decent pasta. To get to the dock we had to walk through a shanty town filled with vendors and kids asking for money. Two guards watched over the gate that lead to customs. For me, that was an odd experience.
Italy
I'm of two minds regarding Italy. First, it is beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you different. Rome, for example, has a dream-like quality to its streets and squares. I think a combination of very long streets filled with enticing shops, and the epic fountains majestically rising from the pavement like ornate bouquets, make Rome appear "unreal" to new visitors. I got major food poisoning, which seems to be a common reaction North Americans have when they visit Italy.
Lastly, when I return to Canada I'm going to relocate my online presence. First, I'm withdrawing myself from Blogger. My blogs will remain online but there will be no new posts and the comments will be closed. I'm looking into building my own website that's going to have a dual function: blog and business.
Friday, we're off to Maribor for the day.
Spring in Ljubljana is a gorgeous time of year. Tumultuous, yes, with it's moody weather swinging from grey and stormy to pleasant and warm within a matter of hours. We've been going on short walks in the city, hunting for medieval houses we read about in our guidebook and sipping coffee at the banks of the Ljubljanica River.
We are fast approaching our departure date. There are few trips I want to take before we leave, though we will always regret not seeing this or visiting that - the common complaint of tourists worldwide - without appreciating what we have seen during our stay. Am I going to miss Ljubljana? Yes. But I also miss my life in Vancouver, which was much longer than my life here. Will I come back? Perhaps, but not for a long time.
In other news, I submitted three poems to a small outfit that wants to publish chapbooks. I'm still waiting for their reply. I also have a project waiting for me back in Canada, but I can't tell anyone a word of it until, well, I don't know really know when. I have to complete three essays and undergo one exam before I leave.
Lisa was kind enough to inform our esteemed readers that we were traveling a few weeks ago. So, here are some of my impressions of our recent Balkan trip. These are written as thumbnail sketches, based on memory and notes, so they may appear too impressionistic and fleeting (or poorly written). During the trip, I was writing poems for publication while riding on trains and in solemn hotel rooms.
Bulgaria
We've been to this lovely country before though we stayed longer this time around. This was our first stop and for some reason I was completely exhausted when I stepped off the train. We got a private room in a hostel and stayed for the Easter weekend to gain momentum for the next leg of our trip. Sophia is huge, busy and exciting. We checked out dilapidated Communist monuments and wandered the streets at night looking for booze and food. One thing I'll say about traveling in the Balkans: eat dinner early. Nothing is open at night, expect greasy fast food joints. I can imagine kitchen brigades slipping away at night to tuck into spinach burek and a lager, forgoing the customary meal at home. However, we ate at one of the best Moroccan restaurants I've ever visited, though an odd plastic smell permeated the dining room and it made eating there a tad unpleasant. Oh, well.
Macedonia
To be honest, I don't have much to say about Macedonia and Skopje at the moment. Skopje, rebuilt after an earthquake in 1963, is mostly replaced with plain concrete. The train and bus station is a marvel, though. Very blocky and utilitarian, with much unused space, but the interior is airy. Huge, too.
The Turkish Quarter is lovely. We bought baklava and walked the hilly, cobbled streets. The neighbourhood cafes were inviting and crowded affairs.
Ohrid: Seated at the bank of Europe's supposedly oldest lake, surrounded by craggy mountains, I really enjoyed this town. We visited a tiny monastery situated on a rocky outcrop. We then stumbled upon a massive archeological dig around a cathedral. The workers pointed out the trail as we navigated around the wheelbarrows and pickaxes. We saw the standard ruins left behind by the Romans. Ohrid is worth visiting.
Kosovo
We were there for about 24 hours. I was surprised, after hearing about this newly independent nation in the news for so many years, that it would be so bustling. People were everywhere. The street outside our hotel was a long trench, as were most of the streets in the surrounding area. Turbo-folk was blasted from every angle.
On the highway to Pristina: Olive-coloured military transports rumbling past our packed bus. Checkpoints manned by bored soldiers puffing on American cigarettes. Half-built houses, three times the size of the average family home in Vancouver, were the dominant landmarks. Building supply stores were seen every twenty kilometers. The highway severed a vast grassy plain, and gray mountains cradled the landscape; storm clouds crept towards us from behind them.
For some odd reason, no one was smoking on the sidewalks of Pristina, yet men were selling cigarettes from card tables on the curb. We ate at a Chinese restaurant near the UN headquarters; it was very good, very filling. Children sold lighters and flashlights on the street, shining their wares at customers seated in restaurants and cafes. Route 66, an American restaurant selling burgers, tempted us from afar. I craved onion rings and beer.
Albania
We had to walk across the border early one morning to reach Albania from Ohrid. The sign welcoming visitors was dotted with bullet holes, shot from the Albanian side. After one taxi ride we took a long minibus ride through the mountains, driving on winding roads. The driver fed me cigarettes and blared techno from a new radio. He bought a live fish in a plastic bag from a roadside market and threw it into the trunk; we could hear the poor thing flapping listlessly for a portion of the trip.
Albania is one of the most mountainous countries I've ever visited. From my perspective, there is no flat land in that nation, just one mountain rising and falling into another one; villages clung to the sides of those green giants.
Tirana: Cigarettes and passports sold on cardboard boxes. Cars, scooters and trucks racing on roundabouts. Mosques pepper the skyline. Excellent coffee, terrible ice cream.
From Durres we took a ferry, a massive ship with several dining areas and private cabins. We slept in the "common room." Passengers made makeshift beds out of their clothes, though some had blankets. Others slept in the halls. I stepped out to the deck and saw the infinite darkness of the Adriatic Sea at night.
Oh, and Durres is interesting. We checked out the mall (I haven't been in one for two years) and ate decent pasta. To get to the dock we had to walk through a shanty town filled with vendors and kids asking for money. Two guards watched over the gate that lead to customs. For me, that was an odd experience.
Italy
I'm of two minds regarding Italy. First, it is beautiful. Don't let anyone tell you different. Rome, for example, has a dream-like quality to its streets and squares. I think a combination of very long streets filled with enticing shops, and the epic fountains majestically rising from the pavement like ornate bouquets, make Rome appear "unreal" to new visitors. I got major food poisoning, which seems to be a common reaction North Americans have when they visit Italy.
Lastly, when I return to Canada I'm going to relocate my online presence. First, I'm withdrawing myself from Blogger. My blogs will remain online but there will be no new posts and the comments will be closed. I'm looking into building my own website that's going to have a dual function: blog and business.
Friday, we're off to Maribor for the day.
4.22.2008
Not so many spare winter hours after all
Between our work, travels at the end of March and our post-travel malaise (Italy was glorious but we happened to run afoul of some suspect pizza in Rome), we haven't been posting much. We're trying to get our work and school obligations done, while enjoying our last six weeks in Slovenia. The time has flown by and I'm living in denial about how short our remaining days are here. I can't speak for Jay, but I've got some posts in the works.
4.10.2008
Gogol Bordello tickets
Does anyone happen to have an extra ticket or two that they are selling for Friday's show at Mediapark? I was waiting until I had a little pocket money to buy the tickets, not expecting GB to be so wildly popular here as to sell out. Looks like I was wrong.
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