Thursday, 30 July 2009
Poi School Bucharest :)
I'm gonna teach every saturday and sunday POI in CISMIGIU PARK from 3:00 clock.
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This certainly changed my take on life!
Love is patient,
love is kind.
It does not envy,
it does not boast, it is not proud.
It is not rude, it is not self-seeking,
it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.
Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.
It always protects, always trusts,
always hopes, always perseveres.
Love never fails.
MY LATEST CREATION
CRIKEY! it's a BOOK
Lighting up for the 1st time.
No one told me fire spinning was so noisy!
Here's an extract from my 'Journal on the Road'
What's in a name?
Winter started to close in on Bucuresti and I had intended to get to the
I was walking up a main road in the dark about seven in the evening, with my coat collar turned up and my 'beanie hat' pulled well down. Most of the pavements and walkways were covered with parked cars and I was in a particularly poorly lit stretch by some concrete apartment blocks. Two large guys stepped out from between some cars and blocked my way. They insisted they were 'Special' police and needed to see my passport. Naturally I was surprised at this - mainly because I couldn't figure out how they knew I was a foreigner, when I was almost completely covered in heavy winter clothing. One of them flashed a Romanian ID card at me, as if that was enough authority to make me compliant. ‘No way!!!!’
"You must show us your passport!" one of them gruffly repeated. I politely refused and said that as there was a Police station about 200 metres behind us, they should take me there and I would arrange to have the passport delivered for their inspection. They made the same demand again and got the same response from me.
Then they got closer and said I had to prove to them that I had enough money to legally stay in
I stepped back as far as I could and calmly said I didn't have any. They both closed in on me again and the bigger one was practically groping me.
"Stop pointing at my penis will you!!" I said irritably. A quick glance over my shoulder told me I had no way of retreating, so the only way out of this tricky situation was forwards. Without actually thinking, I stepped right up to the big man and shouted "
What's in a name, Eh??
OBY - Home for a year.
Typical Croatian coastline
View from my bed in OBY
More of the Journal.
Defining moment.
Today was warm and dry, so I decided to take a cycle ride to find a more appropriate place to park Oby. I have been sheltering from the dubious elements for a couple of nights in a hostel, but now I return to the home comforts of Oby (only because it isn’t so cold and damp). I have used the benefits of the hostel, their Yellow pages and translator dictionary to get many useful names and addresses. This particular quest included the tracking down of a “happy-clappy church” in the north eastern suburb of
What a surprise !!! I was carefully following my map and passed through the blocks of grey flats (which had always seemed so menacing in the cold and rain).to the outer suburbs Here the pavements were the best cycle paths, as the “roads” were a sea of mud (following the heavy rain). I didn’t actually find a church building, so I guess it’s somebody’s house – I did find a grinding poverty I couldn’t even dream of. It’s like a medieval primitive farming community pressing up against those who seek the ‘American dream’. You have to see it, to believe it.
Bottom line for us, dear friends and family, when we are having a ‘bad hair day’, we all need to remember, to be so grateful for what we have.
The defining moment for me was, as I returned to the relative comfort of my Oby, I took to a river-side path and came across two females. I guess they were mother and daughter. The daughter was ragged and unkempt, but her amazing beauty shone through. She was about twelve years old and was standing by the handle of a handcart and seemed to be staring vacantly ahead. Her mother, whose face I never saw, was wiping mud off bits of old twisted metal and throwing them into the cart. I was overwhelmed by the fact I had the benefits of an education and these two hadn’t.
Was the whole life of this beautiful girl to be as vacant as the look on her face? (Alright !! I admit to being influenced by physical beauty) – it seems to highlight the extremes between the ‘glamorous’ decadence of the Western world and the harsh reality that poverty does not recognise the differences.
How are we supposed to address these issues? I actually felt a pang of guilt at owning a smart, albeit cheap bicycle, in the presence of these two. Does the father of this girl see her as another ‘beast of burden’ – like the horse he ‘whips’ with a shovel in his frustration? The horse in question was supposed to pull an overloaded cart out of a muddy ditch.
I guess I’m not expecting direct answers - just reminding us all that we have to face the same frustrations of life, without the abject poverty of these people.
For those of you, who are comfortable with praying, please help me find if I have a role to play in the situation I am presented with. Am I supposed to stay and help make some changes here, or am I to move on? I realize I have limited resources but with God’s help???? I am mindful of the loaves and fishes story !!!
For those of you dear folk who are not accustomed to praying, please trust me when I tell you how, in spite of the daily frustrations, you are truly blessed !!!!!
Love from a somewhat ‘cultured shocked’ Baj.
Beautiful mountains of Transylvania
last chance to snowboard in June 05
Could be lyrics for a song.
I kill bugs in the kitchen, and write poems about flowers.
Pass by beggars in the street, but watch rude videos for hours.
Leave coins in the collection, and spend a fortune on my dope.
Won’t admit to addictions, but preach to others about hope.
Who am I? Who am I? I’m ME.
Pose in my brand new trainers, and yet the couch is my best friend.
Waffle on about my car, but only drive folk round the bend.
Keep three bank accounts open, and think I am too poor to lend.
Have desire in my trousers, but cannot say which way I bend.
Who am I? Who am I? I’m ME.
Just have to look successful, and it’s all on the credit card
Like to seem hard and macho, but am soft as a tub of lard.
Got the big black motor-bike and daren’t ride it in the rain
Say I’m a World traveller, but haven’t even been to Spain.
Who am I? Who am I? I’m ME
Proclaim I’m proud of Britain and drop my litter in the street,
Glad to think I’m a real gent, but won’t give a lady my seat.
I’ll say I’m not prejudiced and judge people by what they wear,
Had a good education, but most of the time I just swear.
Who am I? Who am I? I’m ME
Life and soul of the party, and am terrified of a mob.
Pretend to be a playboy, but so desperate for a job.
Pay insurance and taxes, so THEY can tell me what to do.
Party Political News? Don’t even have a point of view.
Who am I? Who am I? I’m ME.
Will use names like Jung and Freud, and still I know I’m not that deep.
Love to talk about angels, but just see demons in my sleep.
I’m kneeling as if in prayer, and ogling the girl next to me.
Got my designer shades on, but can’t see I’m too blind to see.
Who am I? Who am I?
Christian, Muslim or Jew? A Buddhist, Pagan or Hindu?
So, Who am I? Who am I? Perhaps I’m just a part of you?
Heard this one?
A Texan millionaire went off to Nevada on a business trip and didn’t do so well. He decided to try and make up for his losses in the casinos but came gloriously unstuck. He lost this whole fortune in one night. With his tail between his legs he crawled back home and on seeing his wife had to confess, “I’m sorry, I lost it all Hon. We’re broke!”
She sat quietly beside him and eventually he said, “But I guess we’ll make out okay. If you learn to cook properly we can dismiss the chef and the butler.”
She sat quietly beside him and eventually she said, “Okay Hon. See what you mean. If you learn to make love properly we can fire the chauffeur and the gardener.”