recycling your christmas tree/make wisky&body scrubs

My mother tends to keep her christmas tree up for few months after christmass until needels fall off them selfs. Kupina the dog was having none of that and on the 3 kings day one ought to take the tree down traditionaly, she jumped on to the table where the tree was trying nestle into the minature holly crib, and she knocked down the tree, smashed all the baulbals and the ceramic figurines.

I retuned to Zagreb, where despite evolving from decorating the aloevera cactus like last year, we still did not have a tree, instead wintery pine branches nestled in a jug decorated as much as the branches could take. As its time to take the branches down i tought why not burn some like insence insted simpley trash it, and to my wonder the pine brances produced the most sweet pine smell when burnt. There eruekad an idea.

I decided to try disstiling the branches the way one might distill lavander flowers to get oil. I have no equipment of course, and hae absolutley no patience to wait until i get some, once this idea formed, dropping everythinng else, I seton exppertimenting with what there is in the kitchen. Making a cardboard and aluminium lid for a cooking pot with a hole in the top, which i filled with pine branches and water, salotaped a plastic tubing around the hole of the lid and streched it into a hole of another clear pot. As the matter began to boil evaporation condensed and ran into the cool pot, thus I have now pine essence or wiskey.

When this system suceeded, and i still had pine left, to not waste it i cut all the needels into a jar, covered it with salt, shook it aobut for half hour with a little water and judst now had a delicious shower with this as a body pine scrub!

filming in a small fishing and viticulture town

Two days ago director Ivan Peric brought ower a team to shot a music video at the kastel house. The 500 yr old building has the kind of mediterranian feng shui which resulted in her posing in calendars, films, paintings, this being her her first in 2012.

Actress of volomptuous curley hair posed above in the three story window of the stone house, whilst the classical guitarist Petar stood outside the kastel gate, downstairs, seraenading sadley his first commercial romance.

The house faces the central square of the town and little old sea port. This is the heart of the and the livingroom of the small town.

Each night men group next to the sea, drink beer and wine and chat, mock one , have political, football- vine- fish arguments or sailors tell their tales of far away continets, tropical heats, north sea colds, prostitutes poverites and riches. They all conclude, after all they have seen, it is best exactely here, home where they are. Trusting this mantra, many who have never left their little town, never wish to or do, learning about the world from the stories here heared.

Women are in the house, baking pancakes, watching soaps, peeking out of windows from behing shutters, every so often walkng to the shop on the square as to have reason to see what is going on there.

The moment lights where aimed , and Peric said "Action" to his team, a parade started.

The locals, within seconds zoomed in trough the night, squeased out of houses ,bars, and migrated to, and into, the film set of course, young, old, cats, dogs, babies in prams.

In Kambelovac people feel it their job to monitor for news and oddities, which they always investigate, and gossip about, after which those who belive them selfs normal and superior, revert to proving their own saness talking about their pension scheeme starting as young as the age of 19.

I estranged from home by a winter in Zagreb and a summer on the island Hvar, retreated to a bench in the port and a glass of local red vine to observe and enjoy this sea in front and a huge still sky full of stars . One by one the port boys seaguled their landing to this bench too, joined in the wine and let me know all their news as usual resulting in gigels. Old boats in front of us rocked. Stars above sparkeled. It was as always. So good, so same, comfortable and homy.

Everything that happens there once happens a milion times. The action is repeated like the reverb of a sound, or a drop which hits the sea. The town is always in a lulaby, of safe, sameness, safe very comfortable samenes, trough out decades and lives withing its own laws and very relaxed rytham.

Peric fhinshed filming. My homy socialising with seaguls came sadley to an ending. We packed up the lights and cameras, switched off the towns curiosity, left an ordinarty night, and got in to the car.

skies

The difference between skies in Zagreb and skies in Kastela is rather Aligherian, when the dog imposes its walk to the grass spot in the centre of town where of course dogs are banned, sunsets at best, that is unless they are gray, turn into screaming orange which splats the tram stations and 18 cent buildings, hotel esplanade and trees. Giant crows fly around like police threathening, cars beep, the setting is suitable for a contempoaery Dante's inferno. I am always a little unnerved by it.

In Kastela, the skies have owerflowed, settleld in between the circle of mountains, ilslands, over the circular sea bay. The skies are deep, colored by shades of blossom at twiglight, rose, light green, blues, peach, like the twisting of a kelidecope by each second it appears preatier and irreversable. The sea in an enchanted one, vibrating electric indigo, trees and plants hush lulabies. It sooths and excites and be it not for the population it could do for a dantes paradise, but as it is it is a purgatory at least.

how to make peace with mother in dalmatia

The best way to make peace with a mother in Dalmatia is deffiniltley not a conversation, she will battle and batter you out of it if not with logic than with calamaty, screams ,cries and bashing of doors. It is the same in most families in particular with daughters as they are used to being matriarchs.

So I arrived to make peace using action, (cleaning the house, baking cakes can do also) at our family estate which with years of no human intervention had become a wonderous savage garden.

Hundreds of citrus plants had expanded into inpenetrable sky high bushes of two inch yellow thorns. The blackberry plants grandfather once cultivated near the well, had spread their tenticles and grew in 10 meter deep thickets, framing a square kilometer of land. Cyprus trees planted at the entrance had fallen in storms and closed entrance to land. It appeared the nature was in unity trying to protect this piece of earth, which has been nurtured by my predecesors for generation and centuries. I wondered if the ghosts had this way protected the land until we where ready to do so ourselfs.

Mother and brothers and dog where beavering away each in their seperate chore of land clearing. Ivo with his ray bans, ipod, miami vice look was sawing away dead cherry tree branches . Antonio was cutting misbihaved clementines, dog was running around unberrying old bones and snakes, whilst matriarch straddelled with some mean machine was slashing at ivy and thorn. I picked up rakes and pulled away the spines, branches the rest had amputated.

By the time sun started to play color catroones in the sky we unburried a cherry orchid, fig and olive trees, vines, oranges, lemons, clementines, apricots, pears, apples, rosemary, aniseed bushes and bay trees, quite a treasure of fruits and spices.

I concluded that we ought to plant english grass beneath the trees , and with a little help of my St Martins girls this could become the perfect setting for a wedding..

We split from the land at dusk and peace with mother was made without a word.

Bepo i Ivana

S posvetom Ivani koja urnebessno voli golube.

Bepo golub volio je jogurt. Jogurt je njemu predstavljao nesto egzoticno kao sto ljudima predstavlja kaviar. Slucajno se nasao s rasirenim krilima u bitci s casom jogurta izmedu divljeg Marija I ribara Krivog turisticki istrazivajuci Kastela, kada je leteci sprej jogurta Bepa pogodio po krilima. Iz prva je bio strasno bjesan, od jogurta su mu se zaljepila perja, a u Kastelanskom divljem zapadu zna se vrebaju sa svih stana ubojice macke. Te da bi sto brze uzletjeo Bepo je kljunom cistio perje I zacarao se ukusom tog mljecnog cuda. Od tada, nazad kuci u Splitu, lovi jogurt amba bas po svuda.

Ivana mrzi jogurt. Od djetinjstva kada bi joj mama dosla s polsa I u ruke polozila plasticnu casicu I zlicu, ona bi se rastuzila, a kada god joj se iskazala prilika tu bi casicu jogurta itnila sa otvorenog balkona, te staru vec opranu casicu jogurta bi melodramaticno prala satima kako bi mater prevarila da je jogurt dobrovoljno pojela.

Ivana je zivila u stanu. Nije imala macu, nije imala psica, sve sto je imala se je jednu obicnog stabla granu. A ta grana ju je urnebesno veselila jer tu bi zimskim, jesenjim, I proljetnim danima sljetali zborovi goluba. Oh da Ivana I njen plisani medo sjedili bi na balkonu I bacali mrvice samo da te golube sprijatelje, potaknu da im na ruku slete kao sto su vidjeli da to rade papige. No nikada nije upalilo. Golubovi bi na balkon dosli samo kada su Ivana I medo bili skriveni iza zavjesa. No unatoc tome golubovi su Ivanu starsno veselili, cak je naucila guguhukati kao oni.

Jednog juzinavog ruznog dana, munja prode preko zgrade gdje su zivjele Ivana i Mama, i sa stabla se odlomila grana. Ta ista grana na kojoj su golubovi vec godinama sjedili I ivanu zabavljali. Rastuzena ne tako sada mala Ivana se u sobu sakrila, danima nije izlazila, jela je cokoladu, grlila je medu, I citala knjige o dalekim krajevima.

U tako losem raspolozenju majka joj se zabrinula, sto joj je djete mrzovoljno mozda i bolesno, te je u ruke Ivani stavila jogurt. Da pojede malo, cak je u jogurt dodala meda. Ali Ivana time razljucena pred majkom zavrti rukom kako je vidjela na selu da bacaju kamen s ramena, I jogurt je bacila priko balkona.. Mater joj se prikrstila i lice joj je probljedilo, prstom je pokazala izad Ivane.

Iza balkona uzdizao se golub, skripajuci od muke I pre teskih tona, noga mu je bila zabijena u aluminijski poklopac od po-kilaznog jogurta. Mucio se mahati krilima i zvucao je kao mala svinja. A Ivana odmah zabrinuta skocila je do ograde I uhvatila casicu jogurta, I u njoj zakacenog goluba. Konacno ostvarila joj se zelja. Ivana tako drzajuci goluba u ruci malo je poznati gugu spjev zagugurtala. Te ipak teka srca oslobodila nozicu I pustila goluba na slobodu. Golub se digao u zrak skripeci manje, I kao mig avion brzinom svjetla zaletio se I glavu zabio u casicu, te je srkao, i srkao dok sav jogurt iz casice nije nestao. Taj jogurt bio je cudesniji njemu nego inace, prvo bilo ga je mnogo vise, te bio je carobno sladak, fantastican, ma Bepo je bio u raju i nije ga bilo briga vise ni za zivot. Sita I vesela goluba Bepa obuzeo je san, I tako okrugao zaspao je na Ivanin dlan.

Ivani od srece odmah je kosa poplavila, polako kretajuci se po stanu u leopard papucama, ne spustajuci goluba sa dlana, jednom je rukom pravila krevetic od vune i kartona. Sada je skuzila sudbonosnu potrebu jogurta koji cijeli zivot nije razumjela osim kao kaznu, da upravo jogurt ima upotrebu raznu. Krevetic od kutija polozila je na stolicu koju je okruzila sa svakakvim vocnim jogurtima, te u krevetic je polozila Bepa goluba. Vise ne sjetna vec ovdise sretna Ivana je poljubila majku te golubu dok spava citala bajku. Je da je zamjenila protagonista zabu u goluba, koji se pretori u princa, ali ova se prica nastavlja pa tko zna kakav kraj ce biti zaista.

new year / nova godina 2012

The new yerarrara landend on us four in Narnia drinking don perignon outsisde a forest house with no electric, in between white radio noise, wihte snow and white stars sparkeling, falling, in the dark night and shooting off our sparklers, with the furry animal friends waering furry hats, and faires, gnomes, minxes and bears crawling about in the unseen leaving paw prints in the cold matter.. There was a lot of mulled wine, lot of meat on the fire, wer not vegitarians, you see, a lot of red hearts where floating above the red noses and shiney eyes. Yey. New year began.

Nova godinaalalala sletila je na nas cetvero u Narniji dok smo pili don perignon pored sumske kucice bez struje izmedu bjele buke radija, bjelog snjega, i bjelih zvjezda koje su blicale, padale, u mrku noc i pucale iz nasih prskalica, zajedno s krznatim zivotinjskim prijateljima, krznatim kapama, patuljcima, vilama, vukovima, risovima sto su se kretali u nevidljivom, ostavljajuci tragove u hladnoj materiji. Bilo je mnogo kuhanog vina, mesa na vatri, nismo vegeterijanci vidis, mnoga crvena srca plutala su nad crvenim nosicima i sjajnim ocima. Jupi. Pocela je nova godina.

A meeting with a lion/ Susret s lavom

She was strutting circles out of boredom or hunger, huge, twice the size of the male lion, and the rest of the females polishing their paws in the pride. She, was made of muscles and lion mojo and I fascinated, neared the feline, until a meter away she suddenly centered on the white fur hat on my head.

She stopped moving.

I froze. My heart beat a theatrical funeral march.

One yellow paw remained in the air, as does a cats when its about to pounce, and she aimed her huge hypnotising eyes and 50 kilo head at mine. She looked crazy.

All those documentaries of little gazelles and buffalos hunted by lions flashed trough my mind in the first I am actual game experience.

This was her territory.

The lioness was ready to kill me. Savage run for my life fear struck the backbone and I ran away looking like a roasted chicken in her double eyesight lion interpretation.

She sighed as if to say "if we where in Africa..."

I took my hat off. Assured my self of the unpenetrable nature of the fence between us.

And moved on to sea lions.

Susret s lavom

Ona je setala krugove iz dosade ili gladi. Golema, dvostruko veća od muškog lava, i ostatak ženki koje su lizale svoje šape u coporu. Bila je sastavljena od mišića i lavljeg duha, a ja fascinirana, priblizila sam se, dok na metar udaljenoosti macka iznenada usmjeri svu paznju na bijelo krzno kape na mojoj glavi.

Prestala se kretati.

Ja sam se smrzla. Srce mi pocme tući teatralni smrtni marš.

Jedna žuta šapa zaostala je u zraku, kao u domace mačke kada se sprema u zalet, a njezine ogromne hipnotizirajuce oči i 50 kila glave koncentrirane su na moje. Luda je.

Svi oni dokumentaraci o lavljem lovu na male gazele i bufale bljesnuli su kroz moj um tokom ovog prvog iskustva kao ziva lovina.

Ovo je njen teritorij.

Lavica je bila spremna da me ubije. Iskonski osjecaj bjezi za zivot sjevnio mi je kroz kicmu i potrcala sam izgledajuci kao pečena kokos u lavljoj interpretaciji.

Ona uzdahne kao da kaze "a da smo sada u Africi ..."

Ja skinem kapu. Uvjerim se u neprobojnu prirodu ograde između nas.

I prosetam do morskih lavova.