Sākt ar mazumiņu katolisku jūtu /// Step by step with catholic sentiments

Kā jau ar neticīgajiem tas parasti mēdz būt, arī mani viegli aizrauj katolicisms. Ja es gribētu ļaut kādai reliģijai un konfesijai sevi savaldzināt, es gribētu, lai tas ir katolicisms. Līdzās pastāvīgajai jūtu ekspozīcijai, kurā reizēm mans skatiens vēršas pret Dienvideiropas katoļu sievietēm, altārzēniem un latīniski deklamējošiem priesteriem un viņu uzmanībai pret krāsu izvēli, manas māsas brauciens uz Poliju bija īsts pienesums manu katolisko sapņu ziņā. Tas ir neticami, cik dzīvīga nodarbe tur ir katoļticība. Lāsma stāstīja, ka lietoto apģērbu veikalos par 7 zlotiem tur varot iegādāties altērzēna tērpu (dažiem noteikti noder), uz ielas cilvēki redzēti līksmojam pie krusta, un, kad viena Klāva kursabiedrene kā otras studentes raudāšanas iemeslu izdibināja gredzena pazaudēšanu, abas divas metās ceļos un lūdzās Svēto Antoniju, pazudušo lietu aizgādni. Piezīmēšu, ka arī pavasaris vroclaviešiem ieradies agrāk - es domāju, ka poļi labi lūgušies par pavasara atnākšanu, un Dieviņš devis pavasari.

Kas noticis? Kāpēc tu raudi?

Es pazaudēju gredzenu, šņuk šņuk šņuk!

Lūgsimies Svēto Antoniju!

Svētais Antonij, pazudušo lietu aizbildni, palīdzi atrast gredzenu!

Klāvs skatās uz savām katoliskajām poļu kursabiedrenēm.

Lāsmas Polijas brauciens mani iedvesmojis gandrīz tā, it kā es pati būtu tur paviesojusies. Pēkšņi gribas skatīties uz Jāņa Pāvila II attēliem un katoļu garīdznieku ordinācijas ceremoniju bildes. Romas katolicisms ir tik krāšņs, pašapmierināts un pašpārliecināts, garu tradīciju un droši vien tikpat garas 'melnās dzīves' pilns, un tas ir kaut kas tik ļoti rietumniecisks, tik ļoti Vakareiropeisks. Tas ir tā kā jūgendstils vai itāļu dārzi, skaisti izskatās un raisa virspusēju patiku. Un tas bija pat vēl pirms es saņēmu absolūti brīnišķīgās un trakās dzimšanas dienas dāvanas no Vroclavas - slāviski neminimālistisku apsveikuma kartiņu ar pufīgu Jēzus uzlīmi otrā pusē, marcipāna Dieva jēru (es kā aprīlī piedzimusī arī esmu Auns, vai arī Aita, vai Jēriņš), bagātīgi dzeltenu Lieldienu olas formas cepumu ar Dieva jēra trīsdimensionālu rotu un aizgrābjošu polisku baltu lakatiņu ar košu puķu rakstu. Lāsmu arī pastiprināti kustina kristiāniskās tēmas, un, saprotams, viņu uzrunāja Vroclavas muzeja viduslaiku un renesanses Jēzu skulptūras un džeka ar mazu bērnu skulptūra - Jēzus ar Marijas dvēseli.

Bet būtībā mana ikdiena ir ārkārtīgi laiciska un nereliģioza. Diezgan bieži redzu baznīcas, šad tad kādā arī ieeju, svinu galvenos reliģiskos svētkus nereliģiozā manierē. Kaut kad es sapratu, ka es taču pat negrēkoju, jo nereliģioziem cilvēkiem grēki nepiemīt.

Taču tā es domāju līdz trešdienai.

Pirms pāris dienām manā jaunajā darbā Maruta, stāstīdama par manu darba tērpu, teica, ka rotaslietas es varu arī no mājām paņemt, ja man kaut kas piemērots ir. "Man diez vai būs kaut kas no jūgenda," es reālistiski atbildēju. "Ai, var jau arī ne no jūgenda laika, mēs jau te visas grēkojam."

Tajā brīdī man taisni vai uzzibsnīja atskārsme - pavisam drīz es sākšu grēkot! Uzturēšos autentiskā izskatā atjaunotajā interjerā ar izrotātu un milzīgu cepuri galvā, kuras uzdevums būs apmeklētājiem aizmālēt acis, lai es varētu grēcīgi izrotāties ar 20.gs. krietni vien vēlos gados tapušu piespraudi un valkāt caurspīdīgu staipīgas mežģīnes blūzi ar augstu apkakli.

Šis darbs man liks kļūt par grēcinieci. Un tad es domāju, varbūt tas ir pirmais solis uz kristietību? Sāc ar grēku, turpini ar grēku nožēlošanu.Viena no manām mazajām, ne pārāk stiprajām vēlmēm ir kādreiz aiziet pie priestera un caur restītēm nožēlot grēkus. Tad es justos kā ļoti kulturāla meitene, sastapusies ar ilgo un lēni gaistošo katolisma elpu. Bet tad jau drīzāk man piederēs smaragdu kaklarota, nekā es aiziešu pie katoļu priestera uz grēksūdzi, ja domājam reālistiski.

Elīna: Lai slavēts Jēzus Kristus!
Priesteris: Mūžīgi mūžos. Āmen.
Elīna: Nāc, Svētais Gars, apgaismo manu prātu, lai es pazītu savus grēkus; modini manu gribu un sirdi, lai es par tiem patiesi nožēlotu un vaļsirdīgi tajos atzītos; dāvā man spēku, lai es tos labotu un par tiem gandarītu. Svētā Marij, grēcinieku patvērums, nāc man palīgā!
Priesteris: Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā, Āmen.

Elīna:  Es esmu grēkojusi, Tēvs. Tēvs, es krāpos un autentiska gadsimtu mijas laika tērpa vietā valkāju jaunlaicīgas rotas.

Priesteris: Nav nekā tāda, ko Dievs nevarētu piedot. Vai ir vēl kas, par ko Dievam vēlies lūgt piedošanu?

Elīna: Jā. Arī mana blūze tikai maldina cilvēkus un nemaz nav no jūgendstila.

Priesteris: Dievs, žēlsirdīgais Tēvs, kas ar sava Dēla nāvi un augšāmcelšanos samierināji pasauli ar sevi un grēku piedošanai nosūtīji Svēto Garu, lai tev caur Baznīcas kalpojumu dāvā piedošanu un mieru. Un es tevi atbrīvoju no taviem grēkiem Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā.
Elīna: Āmen.
Priesteris: Slavēsim Kungu, jo Viņš ir labs.
Elīna: Jo Viņa žēlsirdība pastāv mūžam.

Priesteris: Dievs tev ir piedevis grēkus. Ej mierā.
Elīna: Paldies, Tēvs!

Elīna: Es esmu grēkojusi, Tēvs. Autentiska gadsimtu mijas laika tērpa vietā es valkāju jaunlaicīgas rotas.

Priesteris: Dievs ir Visulabs, Viņš piedos visus mūsu grēkus.

Elīna: Arī blūze man nemaz nav no jūgendstila laikmeta.

Priesteris: Es tevi atbrīvoju no taviem grēkiem Dieva Tēva un Dēla, un Svētā Gara vārdā.

Priesteris: Ej mierā, mans bērns.

^^^^^

As it happens with nonbelievers often enough, I am lightly fascinated by Catholicism too. If I were to allow one religion and one Church to enchant me, I wish it would be Catholicism. Besides the permanent exhibition of sentiments, where my gaze follows the Southern European catholic women, altar boys and priests reciting Latin and paying attention to the choice of colour in their garments, my sister's trip to Poland was a splendid contribution to my catholic dreams. It is unbelievable how lively Catholicism is in Poland. Lasma told me that for 7 Zloty in second hand shop one could buy a costume for altar boy (I'm positive someone might find it useful), merry people were seen rejoicing on the streets next to a cross. Also, when one of Klavs' new classmates was crying, and another one got to learn it was because of a lost ring, they both got on their knees and prayed Saint Anthony, the patron saint of lost items. I should remark that for Vratislavians the spring has come way earlier - I suppose God gave the Polish spring due to their diligent prayers.

What happened? Why are you crying?

I lost my ring, sob sob sob!

Let's pray Saint Anthony!

Saint Anthony, patron of all things lost, please let us find the lost ring!

Klavs looks at his Polish Catholic classmates.

Lasma's trip to Poland has inspired me almost as if I went there myself. All of a sudden I am tempted to look at pictures of John Paul II and the Catholic clergy ordination ceremony. The Roman Catholicism is so splendid, smug and self-confident, full of long traditions and most likely full of hidden underground life too; it is something very Western, very Western Europe. It is like Art Nouveau or Italian gardens; it does look beautiful and invokes superficial liking. And it was so even before I got the completely wonderful and impressive Birthday gifts from Wroclaw - a Slavic non-minimalistic floral card with a puffy Jesus sticker on the back, a marzipan Lamb of God (born in April, I am a Ram, Sheep or Lamb too), a generously yellow-glazed Easter cookie with yet another decor of Lamb of God and a Polishly thrilling white scarf with bright florals. Lasma has a strong liking towards the Christian themes, so it is only natural she enjoyed the Middle Age and Renaissance period sculptures of Jesuses in the local museum. Also the guy with a tiny child in his hands, who turned out to be Jesus with Mary's soul.

For all that, my life and everyday is very secular and irreligious. I see churches quite often, now and then I go inside one, I celebrate the main religious festivities in irreligious fashion. At some point I realised I didn't even sin, since nonbelievers cannot have sins.
But that is what I thought til Wednesday.

A couple of days ago at my brand-new work Maruta, when clarifying me my work outfit, said that regarding the adornments, I can bring my own, in case I have something suitable. "I don't think I have something from Art Nouveau," I realistically answered. "Oh, it doesn't have to be exactly from Art Nouveau, we all sin here in this matter."

At that moment almost an illumination occurred to me - I am to start sinning very soon! I will be walking the rooms of authentically renovated interior with a huge and decorated hat on, whose task will be to trick the eyes of visitors, letting me sinfully adore myself with trinkets produced well in the 2nd half of the 20th century and wear a see-through stretchy lace high-neck blouse.

This job will make me a sinner. Then I thought, might this be the first step to Christianity? Start with a sin, keep on with penance. One of my tiny, not overly strong wishes is at some point of time to visit a priest and confess, hearing his serene voice through the grate. Then I would feel as a very cultural girl, facing the lengthy and slowly vanishing breath of Catholicism. But then, of course, I would rather own an emerald necklace sometime in a distant future than go to a Catholic priest to confess, if we judge in a realistic manner.

Elina: Come Holy Spirit into my soul. Enlighten my mind that I may know the sins I ought to confess, and grant me your grace to confess them fully, humbly, and with a contrite heart. Help me to firmly resolve not to commit them again. O Blessed Virgin Mary, Mother of my God, intercede for me through the Passion of your Son, that I may obtain the grace to make a good confession. All you blessed Archangels, Angels and Saints of God, pray for me, a sinner, that I may repent from my sins, and that my heart may be forever united with yours in eternal love. Amen.
Priest: In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen.
Elina: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. Father, I was cheating and instead of an authentic attire from Fin de siècle I sported too recently made trinkets.

Priest: There is no such thing that God could not forgive as. Is there anything else you wish to confess?
Elina: Yes, there is. My blouse does nothing but mislead people and it is not from Art Nouveau either.
Priest: God, the Father of mercies, through the death and resurrection of his Son has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins; through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace, and I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Elina: Amen.

Priest: May the Passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the intercession of the Blessed Virgin Mary and of all the saints, whatever good you do and suffering you endure, heal your sins, help you to grow in holiness, and reward you with eternal life. Go in peace.

Elina: Thank you, Father!

Elina: Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. I was wearing recently produced jewellery instead of Art Nouveau style jewellery.

Priest:  God is omnibenevolent, He will forgive us all our sins.

Elina: My blouse does not come from Art Nouveau either.

Priest: I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.

Priest: Go in peace, my child.

Roken is dodelijk

Kad es braucu atpakaļ uz mājām no Vācijas, man patika puse dienas, ko es pavadīju pārvietojoties ar vilcieniem un meklējot īstos peronus tuksnesīgās vai līdzīgu kustību pieblīvētās stacijās, gaidot rīta tukšos peronos ar cerību, ka vilciens apstāsies vietā, kur es stāvu, un bārstot izkaisītus soļus un čemodāna līnijas pilsētās, uz kurām es varu mazliet paskatīties kā skatlogā. Vēl man acīmredzami patīk gari teikumi.

Aptuveni 6:30 mikroautobusiņa vadītājs ar plašu žestu, kurš man lika domāt par (es laikam nevaru teikt, ka atgādināja, jo man nav tādas patiesas pieredzes) šoferiem uz dzelteniem Amerikas rietumu ceļiem, izcēla no busiņa manu čemodānu un parādīja, kurā virzienā ir vilciena stacija. Ceļā uz Libeku dzelceļa sliedes gāja cauri Ziemeļvācijas mežiem, un tie meži, ak, viņi bija burvīgi. Mazliet pirms Timmendorf vilcienam abās puses bija lapu koku plantācijas, un zeme mitra, brūna un pārredzama. Vilcienā uz Hamburgu policistam labi izskatījās viņa tumši zilais formas džempītis, un uz Brēmeni es virzījos kopā ar klasi vācu pusaudžu. Kad no rīta Inga man iedeva līdzi sataisītas maizītes un ingverūdeni, es teicu, ka jūtos kā vācu skolēns, un Ivars teica: "Bet mīļi, ne?" Un es teicu, ka jā, ļoti. Un es lēnām ēdu maizītes, kā vācu skolēns, man ļoti patika. Meitene, kas sēdēja man blakus, aizņēmās no manis pildspalvu.

Man patīk pārvietoties, ceļošana ir tik patīkama nodarbe, ja vien nav pašas rociņām jāpārvieto arī bagāžas krāvumi. Ja mantas ir vieglas, tad sēdēt vilcienā un pūlēties nenokavēt īsto pieturu, sēdēt vilcienā un bezrūpīgi skatīties, kā garām skrien koki, jo jāizkāpj pēdējā pieturā, sēdēt vilcienā un pavirši redzēt cilvēku pārvietošanās laika ieradumus vai darbības, tā ir ļoti laba lieta, ko darīt.

Lidmašīnā es iekāpu samērā vēlu, bija palicis maz vietu, manā skatiena lokā nevienas pašas pie loga, un es apsēdos blakus pavecākam eiropietim, kuram no daudzām pusēm bija lielu bērnu vai mazu pieaugušo izmēra būtnes. Ar atvieglojumu par atrasto sēdvietu bija pietiekami, lai es iesākumā neaptvertu situāciju, kura solīja bērnu un viņu skanīgo balstiņu ielenkumu uz divarpus stundām. Lidmašīna gatavojās pacelties, stjuarts neizturēja un, demonstrējot drošības noteikumus, dusmīgi apsauca bērnus, lai viņi beidz bļaustīties, un es nospriedu, ka šis būs mans nemīļākais lidojums mūžā, un ka man ir bijuši pietiekami daudzi jauki braucieni, lai šis kļūtu par nemīļāko.

Es nevarēju skatīties ārā pa logu, tāpēc mēģināju lasīt filozofijas tekstus. Mēs ar blakussēdētāju bijām jau apmainījušies ar maznozīmīgām bezrūpīgas intonācijas frāzēm angliski, kas skāra sēdvietas pieejamību vai lūgumu palaist garām, un viņš man teica, ka šī laikam nav labākā vieta, kur lasīt, un es atteicu, ka laikam jau nav gan, bet es tik un tā mēģināšu. Viņa izteiksme bija ļoti patīkama, laipna un bezrūpīga. Man šķiet, mani bieži uzrunā bezrūpīgas, silti pateiktas un ne pārāk svarīgas svešu cilvēku frāzes. Tāpēc, lai gan man nav ieraduma mesties komunikācijā ar lidmašīnas blakussēdētājiem, kad daudzbalsu murdoņa un lidmašīnas trokšņu sajaukums man sāka kļūt pārāk viendabīgs, lai izšķirtu un pārāk svešs, lai atpazītu, es viņam pajautāju, kas tā par valodu, kurā viņi runā.
"It's Dutch."
"Oh, I couldn't recognise it."
Viņš teica, ka viņi esot no Holandes un braucot uz Latviju apmaiņas projektā. Vienu gadu latviešu klase brauc uz nedēļu pie viņiem, nākamo gadu viņi uz Latviju. Tad es sapratu, kad man parādīja, ka viss bērnu bariņš ir nīderlandiešu klase, un pāris nosvērtu pieaugušo izkaisītajam pūlim malās, kas izskatās starp vecpuišiem un beznesmeņiem, ir skolotāji. Un viņu saucot Jans.
Mēs mazliet parunājām, un tad sarunā iesaistījās Jana blakussēdētājs, kustīgs un blonds zēns. Tā kā zviedru šokolādīšu baltzobis, tikai, nu, citādāks: "Tell her that we will go to Latvia and we will do lots of  fun things!"
"What are you going to do there?"
"We will play ball, eat, swim in the sea. What should we eat?"
Es nevarēju neko īsti tipisku Latvijai iedomāties, un teicu Latvijas virtuve jau ir tāds diezgan sajaukums un garšīga ir maizes zupa, lai gan dažiem riebjas, un melleņu kūka.
"Blueberry pie, mmm". (Teikums jāiztēlojas ar pašu izteiksmīgāko un jūsmīgāko mīmiku.)
Jūsmīgo zēnu sauca Braiens. Braiens pirmo reizi lidoja ar lidmašīnu, viņam viss patika. Jans bija daudz nosvērtāks, arī viegli iepriecīgs. Viņi man sāka mācīt holandiski un es viņiem izdzīvošanas frāzes latviski. Man liekas, ka ir kaut kāds pamatpieņēmums, ka pats pamatiņš un būtiskākais ir pieklājības frāzes. Šķiet, ja būsi pieklājīgs, izdzīvosi un nekur nepazudīsi.
Braienam labi sanāca latviešu akcents, un viņš par to sapriecājās. Ar holandiešu "sveiki" es tiku galā pietiekami labi, taču, protams, izaicinošā holandiešu burta atnākšana bija neizbēgama. Braiens man līksmi nodemonstrēja "88", kas, jādomā, ir izslavēts mēles mežģis. "Achtentachtig" var izskatīties pēc nekaitīga kustonīša uz papīra, taču tas ir īsts nezvērs, kad jāmēģina izrunāt. Es padevos un teicu, ka viņu burts ir drausmīgs. Par laimi, "astoņdesmit astoņi" viņu ausīm arī lika svilt un mēlēm kalst.
Vienīgais, ko es jebkad esmu zinājusi holandiešu valodā, ir frāze, kuru man Lāsma lika minēt, kad viņa ar Klāvu stopējot uzturējās Amsterdamā.
"I think I know one phrase in Dutch. Roken is dodelijk, something like that?" protams, bez valdzinošas izrunas.
"Yes, yes! Roken is dodelijk!" viņi abi līksmi izsaucās, un Jans izvilka no kabatas uztinamo tabaku, kurai virsū gozējās gluži šāds pats uzrakstiņš.

Kad Braiens nevarēja izdomāt kādu frāzi angliski, viņš pateica Janam holandiski, un Jans man pārtulkoja angliski. Dažbrīd Braiens nevarēja atcerēties kādu angļu vārdu, un tad viņam parādījās mokoša sāpju izteiksme.
"I can't speak English! It's so hard!" Braiens teica ar izmisušo izteiksmi.
"Oh, you're gonna be so tired after this week in Latvia, speaking English every day."
Braiens teica, ka gribot runāt tā kā es, un, kad es teicu, ka vispār jau viņš runā ļoti labi, un es viņa vecumā runāju daudz sliktāk, viņš tik ļoti atplauka, it kā viņam nupat būtu uzkritusi virsū cerības sedziņa. Vispār tās viņa apburošās izteiksmes, viņas bija tik strauji mainīgas, no nepacietīgas sajūsmas līdz nogurušam sadugumam, un viss viņa sejā bija tik uzskatāms, pārsteigums, vilšanās, interese. Šitā jau vairs nebija atvērta grāmata, 4d kino tad drīzāk.
Braienam kaklā bija ID karte, mēs tur kaut ko runājām, ka mums tās pagaidām vēl opcionālas, un es redzēju viņa uzvārdu, kurš sākās ar "van der". Ak! "Van der" ir mans favorītvariants uzvārda daļai. Es vislabprātāk gribētu būt "Elīna var der kaut kas" (nu tikai ne "van der Bērtule"), otrajā vietā ir "Elīna Della kaut kas". Bet nu, Latvijā nav cerību uz ko tamlīdzīgu, es mazliet bēdīgu novilku.
Braienam bija 13 gadi. Es teicu, ka man ir 23, un viņam parādījās tā pārsteigtā un bēdīgā sejas izteiksme. "23?!"
"You're way too old for him!" Jans pasmējās. Pirmo reizi kāds man tā teica, nebija slikti.

Braiens vēl pastāstīja, ka viņš dejojot hiphopu, es teicu, ka man šķiet, viņam piestāv hiphops, un es mēs vēl par šo un to ar viņiem abiem parunājām, un tas bija tik pacilājoši un priecīgi, nu tiešām. Lidmašīna jau bija nolaidusies, Braiens pagriezās uz aizmuguri un sāka runāt ar savām klasesbiedrenēm.
"He's giving a report on your conversation," Jans teica, un tā apmēram arī bija. "She's a student, she's going home. She dances too." Kad viņš kaut ko aizmirsa, pārjautāja Janam vai man.
Braiens bija aizņemts, dodot ieskatu sarunā, un Jans klusāk piebilda: "He's a very sweet boy, Bryan. He comes from a harsh family situation, his father abused his mum, so he's quite insecure. But so sweet." Tik jaukiem zēniem vajadzētu labākus tētus.
Jaukais zēns Braiens man vēl pajautāja, ko es tieši dejoju, un es viņam atbildēju, ka drusciņ laikmetīgo deju.
"I dance too, we both dance hip-hop," teica viena klasesbiedrene.
"I don't dance," teica otra, un tad es censtos uztvert vienlaikus vairākus trīspadmitgadniekus, kuri man mācīja dažādas sasveicināšanās frāzes holandiski. Ļoti mīlīgi, man patika.

Lidmašīna bija nolaidusies, holandiešu klase palika salonā pēdējie, un mēs atsveicinājāmies. Šitais bija viens no maniem mīļākajiem lidojumiem, kaut arī es nesēdēju pie lodziņa. Es jau gāju pa stiklotām kāpnēm, kad redzēju, ka Jans ar Braienu ir pievienojušies krāsainam bērnu un rāmu skolotāju bariņam lidlauka malā. Es viņiem pamāju, viņi man māja pretī, es gāju tālāk prom un turpināju māt, un bija kaut kā žēl un viegli skumji iet prom. Es būtu gribējusi ilgi viņiem māt un redzēt, kā viņi tur ir, bet man arī likās, ka nevajag tā darīt, un ka vienkārši vajag iet tālāk.

Vēlāk es atcerējos, ka man vajadzēja pateikt par biezpienmaizītēm. Latvijā jāēd biezpienmaizītes, man šķiet.

^^^^^

When I was getting back home from Germany, I liked the half a day I spent on trains, looking for the right platforms in deserted train stations, or train stations filled with similar movements, waiting on morning-empty platforms and hoping that the train will stop right in front of me, and then leaving some footsteps and luggage lines in cities I could shortly look at. I obviously appreciate long sentences too.
Around 6:30 am the minibus driver took out my luggage with a wide gesture that made me think of (I guess I can't employ the word "reminded" since I don't actually have this kind of experience) car or truck drivers on yellowish West American roads. He pointed to the direction of the train station. Whilst heading to Lubeck the railway went through Northern Germany's woods. Oh those enchanting woods! Right before Timmendorf there were deciduous trees' plantations on each side of the train, and wet, brown, well visible soil. On the train to Hamburg the policeman looked swell in his navy uniform sweater. To Bremen I was going zusammen mit a whole student class. When earlier in the morning Inga gave me a sandwich and ginger limo, I said I felt like a German student. Ivars added: "But it's sweet, isn't it?" And said that yes, very. On the train I ate my sandwich, felt like a German student, liked it very much. The girl sitting next to me borrowed a pen.

J'adore moving around, and traveling is such an adorable way to pass time, unless they are my own hands that have to carry the heavy luggage. If the luggage is light, sitting on the train and not missing the right stop, sitting on the train and carelessly watching the quickly passing trees and not getting off before the last stop, or sitting on the train and superficially watching the traveling habits of people, these all are splendid things to do.

I got on the plane pretty late, and there were few seats left, let alone those at the window. So I sat down next to an older European man who was pretty much surrounded by creatures in size of big kids. I was too relieved by the fact that I managed to find a seat to realise the promise of a 2h30min long concert of kids' well tuned voices. When the plane was about to take off, the air-steward lost his temper and told the kids to calm down. I declared to myself this as my least favorite flight in my life. I had had enough nice flights, so I could afford to have one less nice.

Since I was unable to stare through the window, I gave a try reading some philosophy. I had already exchanged a couple of courtesy phrases in English, pronounced in a nonchalant manner, with the man sitting next to me, and then he noted that this probably wasn't the best place for reading. I answered that it most likely wans't but I'd try anyways. His way of speaking was pleasant, kind and easy-going. I think I tend to be touched by warm, nonchalant and not too important things said by strangers. So, despite lacking the habit of chatting up persons sitting next to me on plane, when the noisy many-voiced murmuring became too homogenous to distinguish and too unfamiliar to recognise, I asked him what was the language they spoke.
"It's Dutch."
"Oh, I couldn't recognise it."
They were from Holland, going to Latvia for a school exchange project. One year Latvians go to them to Netherland, the next year they visit Latvia. I wasn't bright enough to figure it out on my own that all that kiddy crowd was one Dutch class, and the few considerate adults with a vibe between businessmen and bachelors were teachers. And he was called Jan.
We chatted for a little while, then a blond and agile boy next to Jan got himself involved into the conversation. He reminded me the Swedish chocolate white-toothed boy, only, well, different:  "Tell her that we will go to Latvia and we will do lots of  fun things!"
"What are you going to do there?"
"We will play ball, eat, swim in the sea. What should we eat?"
I couldn't come up with anything very typical for Latvia, as the Latvian cuisine is more or less a mix of the cuisines of near regions, and said that the sweet rye bread soup tastes good, although some hate it. And blueberry pie.
"Blueberry pie, mmm". (Verbal language accompanied by the most expressive and delighted facial expression.)
The enthusiastic boy's  name was Bryan. Bryan was having his first flight, he liked everything. Jan was a lot more composed, lightly cheery too. They taught me some Dutch and I in return taught them some phrases in Latvian for the purpose of survival. I guess there's a basic assumption that the very foundation and most important thing in a language is greetings and courtesy phrases. It seems that politeness will make you survive and you won't get lost.
Bryan was brilliant at Latvian, his accent was so clear, and he naturally was very glad about it. I myself got through Dutch "Hi!", but, of course, the arriving of the dreaded Dutch letter was inevitable. Bryan cheerfully demonstrated "88", which I suppose is a renown tongue twister. "Achtenachtig" might look like a harmless creature on the paper, but it's beast when you actually try to pronounce it. I gave up admitting that their letter was horrible. I got lucky that "astoņdesmit astoņi" - "achtenachtig" Latvian equivalent - sounded horrific to them and made their tongues twist.
The only thing I've ever known in Dutch is a sentence that Lasma made me guess when she and Klavs were hitch-hiking and stayed in Amsterdam for a while.
"I think I know one phrase in Dutch. Roken is dodelijk, something like that?" naturally, without an adorable pronunciation.
"Yes, yes! Roken is dodelijk!" they both shouted out cheerfully, and Jan took out of his pocket a pack of tobacco with a like expression on it.

When Bryan couldn't come up with a phrase in English, he said it to Jan, and Jan translated it for me in English. Sometimes Bryan couldn't find a word in English, and his face turned into a painful expression.
"I can't speak English! It's so hard!" Bryan said in a desperate manner.
"Oh, you're gonna be so tired after this week in Latvia, speaking English everyday."
Bryan expressed his wish to be able to speak like me, and when I mentioned that actually his English was very good indeed and that at his age my English was a way worse than his, he brightened up, as if a duvet of hope had covered him. And all those adorable expressions of his, they changed so quickly and were always so extreme. From impatient elevation to tired to despair, everything was so obvious in his face, surprise, disappointment, interest. This was no open book, more like a 4D cinema.
Bryan had ID card neck strap, so when the conversation turned about them, I saw his last name which started with "van der". "Van der" happens to be my favorite among surname prefixes. I'd prefer to be "Elina van der Something" (but not "Elīna van der Bērtule", please), the second preferable would be "Elina Della Something". But in Latvia there's no hope for prefixes in surnames. (If I decide to take things in my own hands and actually do something about it, I'll have to marry a Dutch, or at least an Italian.)
Bryan was 13 years old. I said I was 23, and he immediately got his surprised and then sad face. "23?!"
"You're way too old for him!" Jan laughed. This was the first time someone said it for me, wasn't bad.

Bryan also told that he was dancing hip-hop, and I could easily imagine him doing that. We talked about this and that with both of them, and I felt so bright and cheerful. The plane had already landed, and Bryan turned away to his classmates sitting behind him.
"He's giving a report on your conversation," said Jan, and he was quite precise. "She's a student, she's going home. She dances too." Kad viņš kaut ko aizmirsa, pārjautāja Janam vai man. Had he forgotten something, he just asked Jan or me.
Since Bryan was busy informing the girls, Jan added in a lower voice: "He's a very sweet boy, Bryan. He comes from harsh a family situation, his father abused his mum, so he's quite insecure. But so sweet." Boys this nice deserve better dads.
The nice boy Bryan asked me what exactly did I dance. "Contemporary dance, a little."
 "I dance too, we both dance hip-hop," one of his classmates said.
"I don't dance," said another, and then I had to try to catch speeches of several 13 years olds who tought me how to greet in Dutch. Formal style, informal style, standard. This was sweet, I enjoyed it.

The plane had landed, the Dutch class stayed on the board the last ones, so we said goodbye. This was no doubt one of my favorite flights, and I didn't even have a window seat. I was on the stairs with glass walls, when I saw Jan and Bryan having joined the crowd of colourful kids and calm teachers on the side of the airfield. I waved, they waved back at me, I continued to walk away and kept waving, and it was somehow sad to leave. I would have wished to stand there and wave, and see them being down there. But I also knew that I should simply keep walking away.

Later I remembered the curd cake with raisins, had to tell about it. In Latvia one has to taste curd cake, I think.

Kopsavilkums: Ziemassvētki /// Summary: Christmas

Es esmu tik laimīga par Ziemassvētkiem, tas bija tik skaisti.

Es šogad nolēmu nopietni pievērsties Ziemassvētkiem; tā bija mana iespēja pēc pagājušā gada neveiksmes, kad es tikai sapņoju par pudiņu, un beigās attapos Ziemassvētkos bez pudiņa, ar Ziemassvētku kūku. Nebija slikti, nepavisam nebija, mani Ziemassvētki tādi nekad nav, taču es būtu priecājusies par iespēju maķenīt vairāk par viņiem pajūsmot pirms tam. Tā vietā es tikai žēlojos kolēģīšiem un cietu par savu nevaļu.

Šogad es nolēmu vairs nebūt tik vieglprātīga. Es patiesi uztvēru to nopietni.

Jau novembrī man parādījās vēlme klausīties sildošas 50.gadu izpildījuma Ziemassvētku dziesmas, decembrī es sāku klausīties arī zēnu kora eņģeļu balsis. Patiesībā mana pievēršanās Ziemassvētkiem ir ar ne tik daudz produktīviem rezultātiem (tādiem ekonomistiski produktīviem), cik ar nodošanos Ziemassvētku apcerei. Lielākā daļa manu decembra domu vērsās ap Ziemassvētelīgām bildītēm, recepšu lasīšanu,  pētījumiem par monētām un gredzeniem - kura priekšmeta iecepšana kūkā nes kāda veida laimi, un kura Latvijas monēta nesatur niķeli (esmu dzirdējusi, ka niķelis kaitīgs, un man nepatiktu, ja veiksmes vietā kāds saindētos). Es lasīju arī kādas 5 izglītojoša rakstura grāmatas par britu Ziemassvētkiem, "The Great British Christmas" un "A Country Christmas" bija manas favorītes. Tiešām, visi Ziemassvētku grinči, lasiet šīs grāmatiņas, tas var palīdzēt. Un pārējie lasiet, jo lieliski.

Un kad decembra sākumā uzsniga pirmais sniegs, ah, nu tas bija neaprakstāmi. Es daudz neskumu, ka uz Ziemassvētkiem sniega nebija nemaz. "Skotiski," es parasti domāju šādos laikapstākļos, kad ir +5-8 grādi, sauss vai viegli mitrs, un zaļa zāle. Nu jā, bet tas sniegs, aww. Bija viegli silts, tāpēc sniegs pielipa pie koku zariem, un divas dienas bija tas sapņainais skats, ko mēs šajos platuma grādos vienmēr jūtamies pelnījuši. Mēs ciešam ar īsiņām ziemas dienām, tāpēc mums pienākas skaisti sniegi!

Vienā no šajām apburošajām dienām es devos pie Katrīnas uz Adventes laika branču, kas pārauga tējas laikā. Mēs dzērām branča tēju, un mēs dzērām tējas laika tēju. Es pat nevaru pastātīt, cik tas bija izcili. Pārsvarā mēs sēdējām un runājām apmēram tā "Vīī, Ziemassvētki!" un "Nēe, to taču nevar izturēt, tik lieliski!" Mēs mazliet skatījāmies uz augšu pa logu, uz koku zariem un tumstošām debesīm, sajūta bija kā kotedžā, kur mums apkārt lauki, bet mēs leduslācīša mājīgajā namiņā. Katrīna bija ziemas laika mājas tērpā, un es Ziemassētku gaidīšanas tērpā, un mēs kopā parasti esam tik priecīgas. Un, ja vēl ar mums ir Ziemassvētki, tad priecīgums ir ļoti liels un sprēgājošs.

Katrīna izgāja mani pavadīt, un mēs gājām pa ielām, sniga lielas, mitras pārslas, mēs vērojām trušus. Tur bija arī Sātana trusis, melns trusis ar melnām acīm, man šķiet, ka viņš trenca prom mazu tumši pelēku trusīti.

Pirms tam vel mājās. K: "Man tik ļoti patīk spēļu trusīši!"
E: "Vai tev tik ļoti patīk arī dzīvi trusīši?"
K: [mazliet bēdīgu sejiņu] "Nē, ne tik ļoti."

Elīna: "Ziemassvētki, ahh, tas ir tik brīnišķīgi!"    Katrīna: "Ziemassvētki!" "Man tik ļoti patīk trusīši."

Visa mūsu kopābūšana bija īsts Ziemassvētku iemiesojums. Katrīna ir mans labākais Ziemassvētku draudziņš, mēs kopā jūsmojam un apceram, tikai es šogad biju labākā pozīcijā, jo man nedraudēja nekāda sesija, un manā ģimenē visus interesē eglīte. Es jau ar citiem arī gribu runāties par Ziemassvētkiem, bet citi ar mani ne vienmēr. Mājās mani, man šķiet, uzskata par mazu āmuļfanu vai ko tamlīdzīgu. Kad es biju aizgājusi ciemos uz FreshStep, un Pēteris jautāja, kā man iet, es atbildēju kaut ko, ka man ir ļoti labs Adventes vainags izdevies, un jautāju, vai viņiem ir. Sākumā viņi teica, ka nav, un tad, ka aiz aizskariem ir. Es paskatījos, un tur bija tikai maziņš kaktusiņš. Tā ka Adventes vainags tur ne visai bija. Pēteris piebilda, ka esmu pirmais cilvēks, kas ienācis pa durvīm un sācis runāt par Ziemassvētkiem, man vēl pie zābakiem (maniem pekainīšu zābakiem) tikai vajadzētu zvārgulīšus.

Bet vispār es domāju, ka ir labi likt arī nogurušiem un neieziemassvētkotiem cilvēkiem par to visu padomāt, kaut kāds prieciņš var aizķerties. Vai arī tādiem, kas vienkārši pagaidām vēl nav tik tālu tikuši.

Tagad mazliet nodarbošos ar Ziemassvētku grāmatvedību. Iespējams, tā nemaz nav grāmatvedība, es nekad neesmu bijusi grāmatvede, un grāmatveži par mani varētu sprauslāt tā, kā es sprauslāju par runīgiem cilvēkiem, kas kā savu patiku norāda "filozofēšanu". Es nevaru ar jums draudzēties, cilvēki, kas nelietīgi izmanto filozofijas vārdu!

Manas galvenās Ziemassvētku neveiksmes:

1) es sapņoju par pudiņu, taču uztaisīju Ziemassvētku kūku. (Bija ļoti garšīga vegānu kūka, drusku mitra kā pudiņš. Un es priecājos, ka nosliecos par labu vegānu variantam, jo mani vilka gan "pašu tradicionālāko ēdieniņu, lūdzu", gan "man patīk taisīt ko tādu, ko visi ēd", jo kolektīva viena un tā paša ēdiena ēšana man ir visai svarīga.)

2) dāvana tētim laikā neatkļuva pa pastu, tāpēc man nācās sacerēt komiksu par lidmašīnu nokavējušu pidžamkrekliņu. Man patīk sacerēt komiksus, bet patīk arī laikā atnākušas dāvanas, kuras var nolikt zem eglītes un nodot aptaustīšanai un Ziemassvētku noskaņu uzslāņošanai.

3) man nebija neviena paša āmuļa vai akmensozola zariņa! Es šogad daudz apcerēju britu Ziemassvētkus, un man ļoti gribējās tos mūžzaļos zariņus. Toties Zariņš novembra beigās, kad izdomāja, ka varētu mani aizvest uz filmēšanas laukumu, uzdāvināja manu pirmo Ziemassvēku dāvaniņu. Zariņš sagribēja kafiju, jautāja man, kā man iet un ko es daru, es teicu, ka domāju par Ziemassvētkiem. Zariņš jautāja, vai kleita svētkiem jau skaidra, un mazliet bēdīgi novilku, ka galīgi vēl ne. Mēs piebraucām pie benzīntanka, tur jau pie durvīm sastutētas stāvēja mazas, tuklas eglītes, viņš iznāca ar kafiju un "Serenādi". Ar visu to fonu un priecīgumu, es to tiešām jutu kā pirmsZiemassvētku dāvanu, tik forši. Turklāt Jaungadā Katrīna man uz tāfeles bija uzzīmējusi āmuli. Un vispār es nolēmu, ka ņemšu vērā savu asins sastāvu un izturēšos kā ziemeļniecei pienākas, un rotāju savu apkārtni ar eglītēm, priežu zariņiem, brūklenītēm un sūnām. Very Latvian, stiept dabas veltes uz namiņu. Ah, un jā, (es nevaru par šo tēmu runāt maz - es par to esmu pēdējā laikā domājusi tik daudz!) Jaungadā arī apjautājos Timam par āmuļiem un akmensozoliem, un viņa amerikāņu bērnībā tādi bija, taču viņš tiem nepievērsa pārāk lielu nozīmi. Uzreiz tāda sajūta, ka viss ir pareizi, maziem amerikāņu bērniem ir viņu pašsaprotamie āmuļu zariņi.

4) būtu paticis aiziet uz baznīcu. Paskatīties uz zēnu kori un viņu korāļiem, piemēram. Kopš es vairs neeju skolā, man mazliet pietrūkst baznīcas pirmsziemassvētku laikā. It kā jau daudz to baznīcu, bet es jūtos apmulsusi šajā izvēlē.

Katrīnas āmulis

Labie lēmumi un paveikšanās (man parasti vairāk veicas, nekā es labi izvēlos, taču es arī reizēm labi izvēlos):

1) vilkt to pašu zaļa samta kleitu, ko iepriekšējo gadu. Lietu atkārtošanās un atkārtošana rada kaut kādu saslēgtību ar nozīmības sajūtu, un kleita ir tik skaista un tik piemērota Ziemassvētkiem, un man patīk dot drēbēm vairākkārtējas iespējas sevi izdzīvot.

2) Adventes vainags bija tiešām izcils, manuprāt. Es tagad jūtos kā bērzu zaru - smaragda zaļo sūnu - brūkleņu mētru - melnu čiekuriņu - lentīšu Adventes vainagu speciāliste. Manā vainagā vēl bija guļošs stirnēns, stāvošs stirnēns un sarkankrūtītis. Katrīnas "Jaungada Adventes vainagā" bija baltas, izskatīgas ogas, kuras es nezinu, cik ilgi turējās, taču sākumā bija izteiksmīgas.

3) savlaicīga pievēršanās dāvanu papīriem un lentītēm. Dāvanas es nesasaiņoju laicīgi, taču man bija glīta izvēle, un tikai un vienīgi glītas lietas, no kā izvēlēties, un tas procesu atvieglo. Ik pa skaistai lietai nav jāuzlūko neglīta un jānodrebinās.

4) es visas Ziemassvētku dienas darīju pareizās lietas. Tieši to, kas jādara, un nepieļāvu nekādas kļūdas.

kaķi Ziemassvētko

^^^^^

I am so happy about this Christmas, it was sooo beautiful.

This year I decided to be serious about it. It was my chance after last year's failure, when I was only dreaming about the Christmas pudding, but didn't get any. I made Christmas cake though, which was quite enough for me. The Christmas days themselves were not bad at all, it's not in my habit to have bad Christmas. Still, I would have enjoyed some extra opportunities to reflect on Christmas before it was actually happening. So I was just complaining to my nice co-workers and suffering for not having enough time for Christmas.

So this year I was determined to drop that careless attitude of mine. I took Christmas really seriously.

In November Christmas songs from 50ies seemed the oblivious choice. They have such a warming effect. In December I added the angelic voices of boys choir to my list. I don't think my focus on Christmas was very productive (like, in the economic sense), however I was reflecting on these themes a lot. Most of my December thoughts were connected to pictures containing decorations, to recipes, to the research on coins and rings - which one brings luck, and which Latvian coins don't contain nickel (since I have heard of its poisonous qualities, and I wouldn't have liked it if someone got poisoned, instead of having luck). I was also reading 5 educative books on British Christmas. "The Great British Christmas", as well as "A Country Christmas" were my favorites. I advice to read them to all the Grinches, it might help. And I recommend them to the decent Christmas lot too,  'cause they are great.

When the first snow in the early days of December was falling down, it was, ohh, I won't be able to describe it. I wasn't very sad, when on Christmas Eve there was no snow at all. "It's very Scottish," I usually think when the weather is like that - +5 - 8 C, rainless or slightly humid, and the grass is green. But still, that snow, aww. It was quite warm, so the snow was sticking to the trees well. For two days the dreamy sight of everything-all-white didn't disappear. We, the ones living in the rather northern latitudes, always feel we deserve this kind of beauty. Having (or sometimes suffering from) the tiny winter days, beautiful winter snow is simply well deserved!

One of these pretty days I spent at Katrina's, having Advent brunch which gradually grew into teatime. We were having tea for brunch, and then we were having tea around teatime. This was splendid. For the most of the time we were talking something like "Christmas, aww!" or "This is just too much, soo great!" Looking a bit up, bare tree branches and darkening sky were well visible. It was like being in a cottage with fields around the house, a polar bear's cosy home. Katrina was in wintertime loungewear, and I was dressed in my waiting-for-Christmas garments. When we get together, we are almost always cheerful. And if there is Christmas to await, then the joy is big and sparkling.

Katrina went out to see me off, and while we were walking the streets, huge, moist snowflakes were falling down. Then we got to observe rabbits in their Rabbit Kingdom. There was also Satan's rabbit - a black rabbit with black eyes. I think he drove away a small dark grey rabbit.
Beforhands at home: K: "I like toy rabbits so much!"
E: "Do you like real rabbits just as much as toys?"
K [with slightly sad face]: "No, not so much."

Elina: "Christmas, ah, that's awesome!"  Katrina: "Christmas, aww!" "I like rabbits a lot."

I wouldn't dare to underappreciate our Christmasing. Katrina is my best Christmas friend, we gush together and reflect on it. I did try to lead a conversation about Christmas with others too, but not everyone was very interested. I guess at home I am considered a little mistletoe fan or something like that. When I was visiting one production company, Peteris asked, how was I doing and those sorts of things. I said that I was doing well, had made a really good Advent wreath, and asked if they had one. At first they denied having one, then they said that actually there was a wreath behind the curtains. I checked it out but found nothing but a tiny cactus. So, there wasn't really an Advent wreath. Peteris also mentioned that I was the very first person to cross the door step and to start to talk about Christmas. And that I needed to attach some tiny bells to my boots.

For all that, I find it good when tired or not yet Christmased-up people get to think about Christmas time, they may catch some winter cheer.

Now I am planning to do some Christmas book-keeping. It's probably no real book-keeping, since I have never been an accountant. Maybe real accountants would snort their disapproval of the word's misuse, just like I snort my dissatisfaction about chatty people who indicate their liking for "philosophy" and "philosophizing". I can't be friends with you, people, who caddishly misuse the name of philosophy!

The main Christmas failures:
1) I was dreaming about pudding, but made a Christmas cake, again. (It was a tasty vegan cake, moist enough to remind of pudding. I am also glad I decided to go for the vegan version, since I am usually torn between the wish for "only the most traditional for me, pls" and "I want to make something that everyone eats",'cause eating collectively the very same dish is quite important to me.)

2) the present for dad didn't make it in time, so I could do nothing but make up a comic about flannel pajamas, that had just missed their flight. I like to draw comics, but I also like presents that arrive in time, so that I an put them under the Christmas tree. And then they can be touched, and they add something to the Christmas feel.

3)  I didn't have any mistletoe or holly, not even the tiniest twig! This year I was contemplating a lot on the British themes, and I would have so loved to have these evergreens. At least Zarins [in latvian Zariņš means "twig"] in late November, when he gave me a lift to the location, he also gave me the very first Christmas gift. He wanted some coffee, and asked what was I doing those days. I said: "I think about Christmas." He asked whether my dressing choice for the Christmas Eve was made yet, and I sadly answered that this was still unclear. Then the car approached gas station, where chubby Christmas trees were leaning towards the door. Zarins came back with coffee and a chocolate for me, and with all that cheerful mood and sudden background decorations, I had to conceive this chocolate as a pre-Christmas gift. Besides, on New Year's Eve Katrina had drawn for me a mistletoe on the blackboard. And actually I decided to take into account my blood and to behave in a way that suits northerners. So my surroundings were decorate with fir-tree, pine branches, lingonberry and moss. It's very Latvian indeed, to carry home different kinds of plants. Also, (it's impossible for me to talk only a little about this topic when I have been thinking about it volumes!) on New Year's Eve I got ask Tim about mistletoes and holly leaves, and they indeed were present in his American childhood, although he didn't pay much attention to them. It felt right, little American kids and their obvious mistletoe.

4) I would have enjoyed to go to a church. To watch a boys choirs and to listen to the corals they perform, for example. Ever since I have abandoned the habit of attending high school, I miss a little bit church in December. There are heaps of them, those churches, still I somehow feel confused presented with this wide choice.

the mistletoe, drawn by Katrina

The right choices and luck (usually I am better at the luck department than at making choices, but sometimes I manage to choose well):

1) to wear the same dark green velvet dress, that I wore a year ago. The recurrence of things and repeating things creates some kind of closure, it feels important. And that dress is so beautiful and suits Christmas so well. I also like to give garments several chances to live themselves through.

2) according to me, the Advent wreath was pure perfection. Now, having made two, I feel as a specialist at making wreaths out of birch twigs, emerald moss, lingonberry bushes and little black cones. In my wreath there were a standing bambi, a lying bambi and a robin. In Katrina's "New Year's Advent wreath" there were white good-looking berries. I don't know for how long did they managed to look good, but in their early days they looked impressive enough.

3) I started to collect gift wrapping papers and ribbons well in advance. I didn't wrap the presents well in advance, but at least I only had pretty things to choose from. That makes the whole thing easier. One doesn't have to see an ugly thing between all the prettiness, so there is no need to shake that disturbing feeling off.

4) I was doing the right things during the Christmas period. Nothing but the right things, and made no mistakes.

cats Christmasing

Kur paliek pazudušie joki? /// Where do the lost jokes go?

Vai ir kaut kas lieliskāks par jokiem? Varbūt ir.
Vai daudz kas ir lieliskāks par jokiem? Nē.

Lāsma, mana izcilā māsa, bija tikko pateikusi kādu mazu, neuzkrītošu joku, kuru droši vien būtu iespējams arī nepateikt, man viņš ļoti patika, īsi un ļoti, nekas tajā brīdī nebija labāks par to joku, un tad viņa vairs nebija, un man kļuva skumīgi par visiem tiem jokiem, kas uz mirklīti uzšvirkst un tad pazūd. Kur viņi visi paliek, izbijušie joki? Viņi taču rodas atkal un atkal, visu laiku, un pazūd un zūd, un nevar viņus paturēt prātā.

Man nekad nebija pienākusi sajūta par joku pārejošuma skumīgumu. Kur visi mazie jociņi dodas, kad ir izteikti un uztverti? Viņus neviens ar sedziņām neapsedz un nesamīļo. Un vispār jau izšķerdīgi, tik izcili joki aiziet nesasniedzamībā, atstāstīt grūti un nav gluži tas, trūkst elementu, kuru ietekmē viņi radās.

Man reizēm gribētos, lai visi zinātu, kādu lielisku jokus kāds ir pateicis, tajos brīžos, kad man gribas dalīties. Dažreiz es arī mēģinu, un reizēm sanāk vāra smieklīguma atblāzma, ja pareizi uzsveru vajadzīgās vietas, taču ne tik ļoti smieklīgi kā bijis, un citreiz sanāk pavisam tizli. Kad man negribas dalīties un es turu jociņu pie sevis, viss ir ļoti labi, vienīgi ārkārtīgi ierobežots daudzums joku, ko var paturēt pienācīgā atmiņā.

Protams, nav jāsaka joki visur un ar visiem. Ne visas vietas ir attiecīgas noskaņas rosinošas. Man šķiet, ka neviens cits nezina, cik mana Lāsma prot lieliski jokoties, jo visu labāko viņa pietaupa man. Es vienkārši gribu pateikt, ka, ja neveidojas jokus ģenerējoša atmosfēra un nav joku indikatora, tad jociņu nebūs, un ļoti iespējams, ka ne tāpēc, ka otram netīk smieklīgas lietas. Piedāvāju dažus izskaidrojumus, kāpēc tad tā:

1) jūs neesat pietiekami labi pazīstami,

2) otrs ir introverts un nedāļājas pa pasauli ar saviem izcilākajiem sasniegumiem jokzinībās,

3) jums nav un visticamāk nekad nebūs joku konekšens,

4) tu vai kāds cits ir gaisotnes maitātājs,

5) tu esi galīgi dumjš un otram negribas jokot,

6) tu neesi īsti gudrs un neuztvēri smalkas asprātības.

Un vispār jau žēl, ka es nekad neuzzināšu, cik kādam labi joki tikai tāpēc, ka slikti iedarbojos uz viņa joku produkciju. Lai gan, ne tik žēl kā par joku zūdamības likumu.

Joki ir ekskluzīvi, gaistoši un neatgriezeniski. It kā pa īstam, it kā ne, jokos nevar samelot, no jokiem taču negaida patiesību. Viņi ir tāpat vien, bet var izrādīties, ka ne gluži, šī jaukā nenoteiktība. Man jau arī vienmēr patīk, ja mani izklaidē, un joki ļoti labi izklaidē, tas ir inteliģenti un priecīgi, visiem taču patīk būt izklaidētiem un sabiedrībā ar labu noskaņojumu.

Un es domāju, ka cilvēki, kuri saka jokus, ir gudri un tādiem var uzticēties. Asprātībām taču nepieciešams ass prāts, hoho, un neuzkrītoša novērtēt un uztvert prasme, žigla reakcija, atmosfēras un savstarpējo attiecību izjūta, laba gaume, un arī laba atmiņa jokošanai diez vai ir nodarījusi kaitējumu. Vārdu sakot, cilvēki, kuri saka labus jokus, saprot lietas. Sasmīdināt nav gluži vienkāršākais darbiņš pasaulē, nav arī gluži sirds transplantācija, taču dzīvīguma uzturēšanai visai esenciāli. Pat, ja visi joki nav labi, ja joku kopiespaids un to lielais vairums ir forši, daži kritieni ir jāpiedod. Es mēdzu uzskatīt, ka labāk būt lielā mērā foršam un mazā mērā neforšam nekā nekādā mērā foršam un nekādā mērā neforšam. Labāk izteiksmīgais komplektiņš, vai ne. Var jau arī gadīties, ka es kāda joka lieliskumu nespēju aptvert vai nu savas nesaprātības dēļ, vai arī nespējas distancēties no personiskās iesaistības dēļ. Man liekas, tik daudzi joki būtu vienkārši dievīgi, ja vien nebūtu vērsti pret mani, bet, kad mazliet padomā, tie tik un tā ir labi joki, un cilvēki ar labiem jokiem arī parasti ir labi, un vispār, tie, kas pārāk daudz pret mani vērš jokus, man mēdz būt ļoti mīļi. Un ļoti bieži tie, kuri mani gluži vai izaicina uz jokiem par sevi, man ir ļoti mīļi. Iespējams, otrs variants, ja viņi nav mīļi, tad viņi ir kaitinoši, un ironija novada tracināšanas potenciālu.

Mēs ar Katrīnu reiz runājām, ka tas ir ārkārtīgi aizdomīgi, ja kāds cilvēks nemaz nejokojas, tādiem nevar īsti uzticēties. Jābūt taču spējīgam uz vissīkāko jociņu kādā izmeklētā sabiedrībā, uz tik sīku, ka to var nepamanīt, taču jokotiesspēja, tas ir svarīgi, jā. Ironiskiem cilvēkiem galējos gadījumos var pārmest tikai robežu izjūtas trūkumu vai neiejūtību, bet pamatā jau spēja ironizēt liecina par cilvēka spējām, un diemžēl katra jūtas ir viņa paša darīšana un lauciņš, ar ko tikt galā.

Tas droši vien ir saistīts ar mirstīgumu, joku gaistošums atgādina par nāvi, vai ne, vai ne. Kas tik neatgādina par nāvi, ja tā padomā un arī, ja nepadomā. Tāpēc jokot ir drosmīgi, dzīvelīgi un derīgi, un visiem nāk par labu. Pieļauju, ka civilizācija var būt dzīvotspējīga ar pārliecību par pēcnāves eksistences neesamību, bet bez smieklīgā un jokainā, nu nē, nu nē. Tā nevar. Tā ir viena no retajām lietām, kas skaistuma trūkumu apkārtnē padara mazāk nomācošu.

Un varbūt tomēr ir kāda vieta, kur pulcējas un drūzmējas visi pateiktie, novērtētie, nenovērtētie un noklusētie joki, un tādā vietā cilvēkam būtu grūti, jo būtu pārāk daudz jāsmejas, jābūt viegli aizkaitinātam par muļķīgiem joķeļiem, un vēl citus nesanāktu saprast vispār, taču visticamāk, tādas vietas nav, un lielākā daļu joku,  ironisku piezīmju, apslāpētu smīniņu un zīmīgu saskatīšanos pagaist un nenokļūst nekur. Un vienīgais mierinājums, ka jokošana ir pietiekami mūžīgs mehānisms.

^^^^^

Is there anything greater than jokes? Possibly yes.
Are there many things greater than jokes? Nope.

Lasma, the splendid sister of mine, had just uttered a tiny, subtle joke, which might had stayed unsaid, and I liked it so much, briefly and very. At that moment there was nothing better than this joke, and when it was over, I got sad about all those jokes that gleam lightly for a moment and then get lost for good. Where do they all go, the former jokes? They appear anew all the time, they vanish and disappear, and they don't really stay well on the mind.

Never before the sadness of the passing of jokes had occurred to me. Where do all those tiny jokes end up, once they are expressed and perceived? No one tucks them up in bed, no one wishes them goodnight. Actually, it is such a waste to let brilliant jokes leave for good, all alone and unattainable. It is difficult to retell them and it is never the time, cause the elements that made them arise are missing.

Sometimes I wish everyone got to know some  excellent joke that someone has told me; a situation like this may occur to me during the moments when I'm willing to share. Occasionally I do try to retell a joke, and now and then some reflection of 'funny' can be spotted, if I manage to press on the vital points. Still, it is never as funny as it once was, and there are times when the retold joke comes out clumsy and useless. When I don't want to share and I keep the joke to myself, everything works quite fine. The only thing is, the amount of jokes I can keep in my mind properly, is quite limited.

Of course, jokes don't have to be told everywhere and with everyone. Not all places are joke-friendly, not all of them favor the birth of the funny. I suspect that people rarely realize Lasma's joking abilities, since she saves the very best of it for me. What am I trying to say is, if the atmosphere does not support sallies, nor is there a joke indicator, there won't be any jokes. The creation of a joke is unlikely not because the person you are talking to doesn't  appreciate funny things.  I propose several reasons why someone might not joke in the presence of yours:

1) you are not familiar enough,

2) the other one is introvert and doesn't scatter all over the world all his highest achievements in joke studies,

3) you haven't got, and never will, the joke connection,

4) you or someone else spoils the atmosphere,

5) you are quite dumb, so the other one has no desire to joke in your presence,

6) you are not smart enough to catch subtle wit.

Actually it's a pity that I'd never know how great someone's jokes are just because I affect badly their production of jokes. Not as pity as the law of the destruction of joke, though.

Jokes are exclusive, transitory and irreversible. They are a bit true, a bit untrue, one cannot lie when joking, no one expects truth, or seriousness. Well, at least one shouldn't. They are just so, but it can turn out, that they are not entirely just so - the pleasant vagueness. I always like to be entertained, and jokes do that very well. It's intelligent and fun, everyone likes to be well entertained in the company of good mood.

I also think that the persons who joke are intelligent and reliable. Wit calls for an acute mind, doesn't it, as well as for subtle abilities to perceive and evaluate, quick reaction, sense of the atmosphere and interconnections, good taste, and so far good memory has not done any harm either. Shortly, people who tell good joke understand things. To make someone laugh is not the easiest task in the world, nor is it a heart transplantation, still, in order to keep up the liveliness, laughing is quite essential. Even if not all of the jokes are good, those few falls should be forgiven, if the majority of jokes and their overall appearance smells fine. I tend to think that it is better to be a lot nice and a little nasty than to be not nice at all and not nasty at all. Always choose the set with more qualities, right. I keep in mind that I might be unable to get the greatness of a joke due to my lack of sagacity or due to being too much personally involved in it. I guess so many jokes would seem brilliant if they weren't pointed at me. But when I think for a little while, I have to admit that they still are good jokes, and people who tell good jokes usually are good people. Also, the ones who make fun of me tend to be very dear to me, and conversely, the ones that I can't resist to make fun of are very dear to me too. Unless instead of being dear they are irksome, and can do nothing but use some irony to prevent madness.

Once we talked about it with Katrina, that it is highly suspicious when someone doesn't joke at all. You can't trust people like that. One has to be capable at least of the weeniest joke in a carefully selected society. It can be so weeny, that nothing might be easier than missing it out, yet the joking ability does matter, indeed. In extreme cases ironical people can be only reproached for their lack of the sense of boundaries or for their insensitivity, although fundamentally irony proves the abilities of a person. Also, unfortunately, one's  feelings is everyone's own business and one has to cope with them by himself.

It's probably linked with mortality, the passing character of jokes reminds of death, doesn't it. Is there really anything that doesn't remind of death, if I come to think of it and also if I don't come to think of it. Therefore it is brave, lively and useful to joke, it is good for everyone's health and well-being. I suppose a civilization may be viable even if it had adopted belief in the non-existence of afterlife, but without the funny, it would be oh so impossible. The funny and comical is one of the few things that almost make up for the shortage of beauty in near surroundings, and make it less unbearable.

For all that, there still might be a place, where all the said, appraised, understated and unsaid jokes gather and crowd. It would be hard for a person in such a place with too frequent laughing, light irritation about silly sallies, loads of jokes, that one is not even able to get. The most likely though, there is no such place at all, and the vast majority of jokes, ironic comments, choked grins and meaningful exchanging of looks vanish and get nowhere. The only comfort we are given is the fact that joking is mechanism eternal enough.

Šīs dienas tēma: Jēzus Tevi ienīst /// Today's Topic: Jesus Hates You

Man tik ļoti patika pavadīt bērnu uz baznīcas kori. Tā bija pirmā diena, kad es Lauru pieskatīju, un mēs ar riteņiem braucām pa ceļu, pa kuru es vēl nebiju braukusi. Tas ir brīnumdaiļš ceļš, zaļas lapiņas ielenc no abām pusēm un mainās, un braucot pārsvarā ir jādomā par to, ka vai, vai, vai, cik skaisti. Saule nepārblieza krāsas bālas, tradicionālā izpratnē saules nebija. (Protams, ja es būtu piecgadīgs bērnudārznieks, kurš nesen kā uzzinājis, ka vienmēr, kad ir diena, Saule ir uzlēkusi, es tā vis neteiktu. Kad mums bērnudārzā bija mūzikas nodarbības, mēs iedziedāšanos sākām ar dziesmiņu "Šodien ārā saulains laiks," vai "Šodien ārā mākoņains." Un kad bariņš vecāko bērnudārznieku apjauta Saules klātbūtni jebkurā mākoņainā dienā, mēs vienmēr dziedājām tikai par saulaino laiku.)
Man bija pusnakts zila kokvilnas kleita un košāk zils mētelis, ļoti piemērotas drēbes, lai dotos uz baznīcu, manuprāt. Ja apkaimē Jēzus ir aktuāls, var pilnīgi mierīgi vilkt kleitu vai svārkus, braucot ar riteni, jo par svārku plīvošanas piedienību taču būtu jāparūpējas Jēzum.

Es biju patīkami iepriecināta par Hailigenhāfenas kristietisko raksturu. Tā jau vāciešiem laikam ir, taču tas piemirstas un ir īsts svaigumiņš. Vēl svarīgāk par Jēzu Hailigenhāfenā ir burāšana un visi maritīmie aspekti, un tāpēc  kristietības un kuģniecības sadarbība šķita īpaši mīlīga. Baznīcā saprot, ka kuģi ir hailigenhāfeniešiem ir sirdij tuvāki par Jēzu, tāpēc stiepj viņus tik iekšā baznīcā. Šur tur randomā pilsētiņā bija pāris krusti, un savukārt baznīcā no griestiem karājās vairāki kuģu modeļi, kas maskējās par svečturiem izmēra un smalkuma ziņā. Tas bija tā ļoti uhh, man patika, tiešām ļoti mīļi. Būtībā esmu arī par saprātīgu eklektiku, kad saliek kopā visu, kas patīk, un kāpēc gan ne burinieki un krusti.

Mēs ar Lauru braucām pa baznīcas pakalnu, tobrīd notika kāzas, mēs izbraucām cauri kāzu viesu grupiņām. Zvanīja baznīcas zvans, vīrietis ar cilindru galvā gaidīja pie mašīnas durvīm, cilvēku skatieni uzmanīja baznīcas durvis. Braucot gar baznīcas sānu sienu, zvani turpināja zvanīt un no otras puses uz manu pusi lidoja nedaudzi ziepju burbuļi. Es skatījos, kas ir viņu autors, taču nevienu neredzēju. Neuzķēros jau uzreiz uz dievišķu zīmi, burbuļiem, kas paši pūšas, taču reizēm ir tik patīkami, kad pūles nevainagojas panākumiem. Tajā brīdī es domāju, cik man ļoti patīk tas, kas man jādara, jāpavada bērns uz baznīcas kori, un patīkamu lietu vienlaicīguma maģiskums, kurā es iebraucu un no kuras izbraucu, pirms tas vēl ir beidzies.


^^^^^

It was so adorable to take the kid to the church choir. It was the first day when I was looking after Laura, and we were riding bikes on a road which I hadn't seen before. It was a marvelous road, green leaves enclosing from both sides and changing as fast as I rode. While riding, the predominant thought was 'oh, oh, oh, all this is so beautiful". The sun didn't over-illuminate the colors to the paleness; there was no Sun in the traditional sense of 'Sun'. (Of course I wouldn't say this if I was a 5 years old kindergarten kid, who had recently got to know that actually the Sun was present whenever it was day, and not only during the sunny days. In kindergarten we were in a habit of beginning the singing practice with a rhyme - "It's sunny today" on the sunny days or "It's cloudy today" when it was dull outside. When the older kids had grasped the presence of Sun on every single morning, no matter the weather, we kept singing nothing but the "sunny" rhyme.)
I was wearing my midnight blue cotton dress and brighter blue summer coat - very suitable clothes to go to church, I think. If Jesus is trending nearby, one can sport dress or skirt while riding bike with no worries. One can be pretty sure Jesus would take care of the decency of one's skirt's fluttering.
I was pleasantly surprised  about the Christian characteristics of Heiligenhafen. I suppose it is nothing outstanding among Germans, still for me it was something quite forgotten and therefore fresh. For all that, sailing and all the maritime aspects count among the very highest ones, so the collaboration between Christianity and sailing is such a sweet one. In the church they understand, that ships are closer to the hearts of Heiligenhafen inhabitants, and that's why they bring them into the church. Here and there in the village some random crosses can be found, whereas several ship models can be seen hanging from the ceiling and disguising themselves as chandeliers, due to their size and delicacy. That was something impressive, very sweet indeed. Fundamentally I am in favour of reasonable eclectism, putting together everything one likes. And why shouldn't it be ships and crosses.

Laura and I were riding on the church hill, and at that time a wedding took place there, and we passed the groups of wedding guests. The church bells were ringing, a man with top hat waiting at a decorated car, guests keeping an alert eye on the church door. While riding along the church, the bells kept ringing, and from the other side a few soap bubbles were approaching me. I looked for their author, but couldn't find anyone. I wasn't so naive to buy immediately that this was some divide providence - the bubbles, that blow themselves -, still occasionally it feels really nice, when the efforts do not result in any success. At that moment I was thinking, how very much I enjoyed what I had to do, to take a kid to church choir, and the magic of simultaneity of pleasant things. I got into it and got out of it before it all had ended.

Wo sie auch ruhen im Meer und Land /// Kur viņi dus gan jūrā, gan zemē /// Where they rest in see and land

/ Sie sind gefallen in Gottes Hand /// Viņi ir iekrituši Dieva rokā /// They have fallen into God's hand

Baznīca, kurā kuģu modeļi karājas pie griestiem tikpat bezrūpīgi kā lampas. /// A church where ship models hang in an equally nonchalant manner as chandeliers

Little Lord Jesus

Es piemērotā apģērbā pie baznīcas. /// Me dressed suitably for the church.

Pie Jēzus lielā galda - kora notis un pleimobiļa cilvēciņi. /// At the huge table of Jesus - Choir sheet music and Playmobil people

Ētika 3a /// Ethics for 3a

Izkrāso Ābramu un Sāru! (Ētikas burtnīca) /// Paint Abraham and Sarah! (Exploring Ethics' notes)

Jāzepam vienreiz bija sapnis. /// Once Joseph had a dream.

Jāzeps izpalīdz faraonam. /// Joseph helps out the Pharaoh.

Izmirstošie dzīvnieki, pret kuriem jāizturas ar žēlastību. /// Endangered species that deserve mercy.

Trusis un, hm, tārps? /// A rabbit and, well, a worm, I guess.

"Jēzus sirds!" Apgaismotā Jēzus sirds! Nevis "parastā sirds, bič." /// "Heart of Jesus!" The illuminated heart of Jesus! Not any "ordinary heart, bitch."

Es pēdējā laikā esmu daudz laika pavadījusi televizora tuvumā. Piedevās apkopoju neaizmirstamākās frāzes, kuras es, saprotams, būtu aizmirsusi, ja nebūtu pierakstījusi, un par dažu precizitāti man joprojām ir šaubas, taču es izvēlos izlikties, it kā tas uz mani neattiektos. Citāti avoti gluži precīzi attēlo pārraižu spektru, kuru ietekmes laukā esmu atradusies. (Izņemot dažas multenes un muļķīgu ārstu seriālu, kurā nebija nekā citējama.)

Kobra, viens no Semīriem francūzim: "Izņem no mutes varžu kājiņas, tad runā ar mums."
Simpsoni: "Kādu dienu tu kādu slepkavu padarīsi ļoti laimīgu, taču tas nebūšu es."
Garfīlds, tikko izmetis Odiju ārā no mājām: "Reizēm kucēniem nepieciešama skarbāka mīlestība. Tas norūda raksturu."
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Cilvēks nevar but maizes pelnītājs un dzejnieks vienlaikus."
Smalkais stils, Hiacinte Ričardam: "Es raugos, lai tava dzīve plūstu kā rāma un mierīga upe, un tā tu man atmaksā."
Simpsoni: Šīs dienas tēma: "Jēzus Tevi ienīst."
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Es te sēžu pilnīgi nevienas alus pudeles ielenkumā!"
Simpsoni, Homērs: "Bārt, Bobs tagad ir ģimenes cilvēks. Tu nevari būt slikts cilvēks, ja tev ir ģimene."
Puaro, Puaro:  "Mazas dāvaniņas reizēm var būt tik satraucošas."
Puaro, kapteinis Heistingss: "Būt izskatīgai meitenei reizēm var būt grūti."
Puaro: "Jūs vienmēr iežēlojaties par jaunām, daiļām dāmām, bet es vienmēr izjūtu žēlumu pret vecām, slimām kundzēm."
Smalkais stils, Onslovs: "Es nesaprotu, ja mums ar pērtiķiem kopīgi ir 985 gēnu un cilvēka gēnu ir tikai 2%, kāpēc man no rīta gribas smēķi, nevis banānu."
Simpsoni:  "Paldies, ka izvēlējāties mani par savu slepkavu. Jūs sekosiet Sokrāta, Viržīnijas Vulfas, Ernesta Hemingveja, Hantera S. Tompsona un Freda Kanikī pēdās."
Simpsoni: "Sevi nogalināt nav tik viegli, kā uzvilkt neglītu džemperi - kā jūs to izdarījāt šorīt."


^^^^^

Recently I have spent quite some time near TV. As a side dish I'll be serving here a collection of the most unforgettable quotations, which, of course, I had easily forgot unless I didn't write them down. The accuracy of some of them is still questionable, but I've decided to pretend that this didn't concern me not to the least extent. The choice of quotations shows very well the range of broadcasts, that I have spent my time with the most. (Except for some cartoons and a silly doctor TV series, they didn't have anything quotable at all.)

Alarm for Cobra 11, one of the Semirs to a French man: "Take those frog legs out of your mouth, then talk to us."
Simpsons: "You know, you'll make some murderer very happy one day, but it shan't be me."
Garfield, having had just thrown out Odie out of the house: "Sometimes puppies need a little rougher love. It toughens personality."
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "One can't be breadwinner and poet at the same time."
Keeping Up Appearances, Hyacinth to  Richard: "I"m trying to make your life flow as long, quiet river, and this is how you repay me."
Simpsons: "Today's Topic: Jesus Hates You."
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "I'm sitting here surrounded by not a single bottle of beer!"
Simpsons, Homer: "Bart, Bob is a family man now. You can't be a bad person if you have a family."
Poirot: "Little gifts can be so upsetting."
Poirot, Captain Hastings: "A good-looking girl has a hard time of it."
Keeping Up Appearances, Onslow: "I don't understand, if we share 98% genes with primates like apes and have only 2% human genes, why in the morning I want to have a smoke and not a banana."
Poirot: "Ah, Hastings. Always you are full of charitable feelings to the young ladies, who are beautiful, huh? As for me, I am always full of the charitable feelings to the old ladies, that have maladies."
Simpsons: "I am so honored that you've chosen me to murder you.
You'll be following in the footsteps of Socrates, Virginia Woolf, Ernest Hemingway, Hunter S. Thompson and Fred Kanickee."
Simpsons: "Killing yourself isn't as easy as putting on an ugly sweater like you did today."