How are you?

'Hi, how are you?' They ask and do not even wait for the answer. And sometimes the answer is repetition of the same question!

We are running everyday and trying to fit in this busy world, leaving us with little time to spare. We are too preoccupied with our own lives to care to know what others are doing. Yet, often when I observe how people greet each other, it never fails to surprise me. A few words, a few lines, somehow are capable of revealing a whole lifestyle.

On way from local market in Kolkata, when you meet your neighbor, despite the presence of the very visible shopping bag, you will hear, 'ki dada, bajar theke firchen (Are you returning from the market)?'. A unique a way to say hello. Often times when there is no time, we offer a friendly smile to a familiar face on the roads. Maybe a 'hi' or 'hello' will accompany the smile if one belongs to the younger generation. When there is a minute to spare both stop to ask 'kemon achen (how are you)?' before departing for their respective destinations. In other cases, a smile and nod of head do the work. Then, one never stops to say hello to a stranger, only maybe a quick smile sometimes is shared. Bengalis do not often care about these too polite formalities; we are more chatty and informal people.

You are in the elevator in your office building in Ljubljana. And as you leave on your floor, you go away saying a 'dan' to wish the others a good day ahead. In Slovenia it can be a friendly 'živjo (hi)' or a bit formal 'jutro (morning)'. Even when one is meeting complete strangers in elevators or on a hiking trail, they pass a quick 'dan', shorter version of dober dan (good day). Depending on the person in front, these compliments are friendly, polite, and sometimes just a formality, following etiquettes. Sometimes when people are meeting a familiar face after long time, they take time to start a little conversation with a 'kako si (how are you)?'. These are friendly, sometimes chatty. It is always so nice to hear the warm and enthusiastic hellos in the less formal settings. But when addressed to a stranger, often times it seem more mechanical to me. Yet, one can get a feeling of belonging together in a same place if the response is a friendly one.

'Hello', 'how are you doing?', 'have a nice one'.. You can hear these one-liners all around San Francisco all the time, addressed to friends, acquaintances, just a known face, and complete strangers. While it can lead to a quick short chat among friends, colleagues who are catching up with each other or discussing business, often times I find it not to be so. Specially with acquaintance or stranger, the lines somehow seems to be thrown to the other person in a hurry. Then without waiting for a response, one moves on. And worst is when the response is just the repetition of the same question. In such cases, it seems not like a polite greeting but a hurried formality dumped on another. It is of course nice and polite to wish people one meets around during the day. However, when people are so rushed, this same act of politeness does not look polite anymore.

When we ask 'how are you?’, except for a few exceptions with close friends and family, we are not really interested in the answer. Both the person asking and the one being asked know it. We all do. This question is more a way to start up a conversation than a sincere one. When people are hurrying to keep in pace with this ultra-fast life, they just try to squeeze out a minute to have a quick chat. People ask how the other person is doing. And these hi-hello-how-are-you chats are always pleasant and fun when there is a moment to spare. But then, why bother to ask 'how are you?' when one is not even pretending to be asking? Then one even gets as an answer just the same question asked back with the similar nonchalant tone. Both rushes off with their life, without waiting for any answer at all. Well, the answer never comes, and actually, no one was expecting an answer in the first place! We cannot possibly spare time to engage in a chat with all the familiar faces we meet each day. However, in such cases a smiling nod, a hi, a good day etc show very well the acknowledgment in a polite manner. Asking a question without wanting to hear an answer or answering back with the same question is strange to me! It is even rude to a certain extent instead of being polite. It may not register to us as we go away in haste. No one thinks about the exchange in any negative way. It is just a style of greetings, a lifestyle. But, in a way it makes the fact more evident that how little we care, if at all. Everyone of us.. And that is one sad thing to realize..

Daisies

My first English book was the Grimm’s Fairy Tales. A world of princes, princesses, angry witches, cute animals, gingerbread houses, and magnificent palaces it was. I just loved reading the stories and adored the pretty illustrations. And besides all those pictures of handsome princes and pretty dresses and silly animals, there was this one picture that stood apart to me.

It is a picture from the story Little Red Riding Hood. Red Riding Hood on her way to her grandma is passing by the woods. There in a little open of the wood, the green is dotted white with gentle daisies. She stops to pick those up. Her basket is lying there on the grass, unattended. The big bad wolf is there from somewhere far peeking at her. She is sitting there, busy picking daisies. Her hands are already full. But she wishes more. Oblivious of everything she is lost in those gentle beauties.

This particular picture gave rise to a whispering wish in my heart. There was something very simple and innocent in that picture, which the little girl in me longed to experience. And along with many dreams from the fairy land, this wish was kept safe.

I have loved being in nature and amongst flowers from always. It showers me with some calming happiness. And the wild flowers growing for its own happiness always made me smile. I love wild flowers more than those in tended pretty gardens. The wild mountain flowers growing carelessly by the road filled me with such happiness during our summer mountain holidays. Sometimes I plucked a few. Sometimes I just admired their beauty from far. However, among all these wild flowers, the dream still remained untouched. But it was not lost. Someday, just someday, it will surely come true.

I reached Slovenia among all the hues of red autumn, and then witnessed a glorious winter. Then as the snow melted and the first blades of grass peeped out, I could see the footsteps of spring. It was my first spring in Slovenia. Flowers started to wake up from their winter slumber. Everything started to bloom. And also daisies. Lots and lots and lots and lots of daisies...

Daisies were everywhere. By the side of the road, on the green of the pavement, on the endless fields, and in the shade of the wood. Adorning the lovely green meadows, their gentle petals fluttered in the breeze. And how delighted and happy my heart was.

Every morning on way to work, I enjoyed them. Early morning, they were still sleeping, all curled up in a circle. Some had faint pink on the tip of the petals. Those looked like white discs with a pink dot. And as the gentle sun and morning dew touched them, they slowly woke up. They opened up to the warmth of the sun and freshness of morning breeze. The whole day long, they were just be there, smiling to the world, swinging gently, and again stopping to wonder. They said hi to bees and other flowers.

Over the weekends, I went for long walks in the nature. The sun, the green, the colors, and the daisies, it was such a beautiful spring morning. I picked one. I picked another. And.. Then slowly I went into the meadow leaving my road behind. I forgot other things. The only sound was the buzzing of bees. I was just enwrapped in the innocence of the daisies. My hands were full. But I still gently plucked another one. I had touched my dream..

Gentle and pristine were those daisies. And so was that little dream. Such precious little piece of happiness could this simple wish bring with it. I was happy and happy. My heart was fluttering.

I have so many dreams in life. Fulfillment of those makes me happy. Always makes me smile. And among those big big dreams, a little dream like this one, wrapped in fairytale, always remains as one most special. Because, like those daisies, these little dreams are also simple, gentle, and true in its essence. These dreams are the true whispers of my heart.

How much will you pay?

A few weeks ago, I was walking around at Hyde Street Pier, enjoying the view and maritime history. The roadsides were busy with vendors, most selling fashion accessories. There were also some painters making portraits and caricatures, along with some scenic views of San Francisco. Watching these street artists always remind me of the painters in Kolkata Book Fair, and recently of the artists in Rome. And, along came the memory of a little incident from Rome that had stirred me to the core.

Rome was a perfect destination for my summer holidays, a city of art and history. Rome presented to me a rich collection of paintings, sculptures, architectures, mythology, religion, culture, and practices. Every day I was just enjoying the glorious Renaissance arts; and was revisiting history in the heart of Roman Empire and Catholic world where all truths and myths became indistinguishable. But this is not about Rome. It is about a small insignificant incident I witnessed there, and which many may have witnessed in other touristy corners of the world. An incident so normal and usual to us, that it rarely leaves any mark.

You go to any famous Piazzas of Rome, there are many artists sitting there and painting, like many other tourists spots. There are many painters giving life to the history on the paper with their colors. Some are students from art colleges. Some enjoy painting as a hobby. However, for most it is a means of livelihood. They are selling those paintings to the tourists. They are painting portraits, caricatures, historic Rome, or some beautiful scenery of nature. And all these paintings too my amateur eyes looked really beautiful. Like always, I was admiring the works of these street painters as I was walking around in the afternoon.

We were on the top of the Spanish steps. Looking onto the lazy touristy city, we were enjoying the Bernini designed Piazza di Spagna with the interesting Fountain of the old boat and the famous steps lit in the afternoon sun. Like in other corners, here also were some artists. I could hear some woman bargaining with the artist somewhere close by. However, this bargaining was only like some background noise, as all my attention was to the famous display of architecture in front of me. Yet, soon, a single statement called all my attention to this bargaining.

Not satisfied with the price, the lady had decided to not buy the painting. As she started walking away, the artist in his last effort to sell, said, “okay madam, how much will you pay?”

'How much will you pay?' 'How much will you pay?' The question instantly struck me somewhere. In one moment, I was on the busy roads of Kolkata. 'O didi, bolun koto deben?' one of the most heard lines on the vendor busy sidewalks of New Market, Gariahat was echoed in a different language there in the streets of Rome. The last effort of one seller to sell a particular commodity. But.. Is a painting same as cushion covers, handbags, and fashion jewelry? A painting by Raphael is priceless, while that by some unknown artist is just a commodity! The words 'commercialization', 'market value' etc have made most creative art forms a commodity in today's practical world or have made it a lost art. Those who could make their name a brand get the price they ask. And for whatever practical reasons, many creators are forced to go through bargaining to sell their creations and earn bread. I am well aware of this reality. Standing there, I was not really questioning it. My heart was lost in some different thoughts.

I have never really learnt painting, but I enjoy doing it. It is something very close to my heart. I know my inexperienced efforts are neither perfect nor something great. But they are priceless to me. I create them with lots of love, respect and leave a piece of my heart in each of those creations. My drawings or any creation is very close to my heart. I am very possessive about them. And somewhere I believe, each one thinks the same about their own creations.

Standing in the city rich with art, I wondered, what did this particular artist think? What did he feel? What do they feel? Are these unknown artists thinking anything when the price of their creations is just limited to the price tag? Or is he not thinking anything at all? Trying to meet the ends in this everyday bargaining, is he then just another seller? Reality is keeping away his thoughts and feelings. Or is it that, everyday somewhere deep down, his creative soul is getting hurt? I do not know... I do not..

Houses in rows

I love houses in rows. Standing together, sharing walls, and yet they each have its own character. It is somehow to me a symmetric assortment of differences. Sometimes they look all same with a bit different colors, or bit touches here and there to reveal their individuality. Sometimes they are just all different in every way. In any case, they create some sense of uniformity. There is some element of belonging together in a community attached to it.

I never really saw row houses in India. It is not in the culture. Nowadays, some modern housing complexes have these symmetric looking houses. However, these do not share walls, and are somehow not the same. They do not also have this age associated with them and are simply too modern to be as charming. There are also these big old houses. Once belonging to a single family, now several people own them. A few families live together in complete separate units of these houses. They often color the outside walls of their portions in different colors. To me they are more like strange apartment building arrangements. The antique maze of these old houses has some appeal different from the row houses.

Walking around in Prešeren square, I for the first time saw real row houses by the side of the river Ljubljanica. They are old, and yet looked warm and inviting. Mostly in apartment style, they are not identical and even have a bit differences in heights. Colored in pale pink, green, yellow, cream, and with dark wooden roofs, they make a perfect picture by the riverbank. Some houses have these tiny rooftop balconies or rooms. I always imagine how nice it must be to have a bedroom up there and wake up to the bustling city center on some Saturday morning. The facades have little simple decorations from olden times. The windows are bright with red flowers in spring and summer. This place, the houses, I simply love so much. They have such a charming spell on me that one day I even dream to rent one of those apartments if possible. Often times when I am walking around the old city center, I enjoy and admire these houses. They form a perfect picturesque postcard, holding onto memories from good old ages.

My another very vibrant memory of these row houses are of those around the U-Street region, close to African-American Civil War Memorial in Washington DC. There houses are all painted in very vibrant colors of bright red, yellow, blue, pink, green. It is as if the whole neighborhood is celebrating in some party. Similarly colorful are the roads with bright row houses close to Georgetown University area. They look like wrapped in colorful papers into little presents. This brightness can make one's mood instantly cherry.

If one walks past the famous and busy skyscrapers, and the glitter of Times Square, the New York City neighborhoods present a very different ambiance. With many ethnic communities living in different parts, each has its own style. The common elements are only the row houses and the iron structures. Some areas have this monotone of different shades of cream or concrete colors. Some neighborhoods though painted in monochrome were sporting bright red or similar reddish hues. Some had the row houses painted in different colors. What make them more interesting are the iron structures. I loved the iron fire-escape ways and other iron details on windows or front doors. It looks all very interestingly symmetric. Then you turn the corner and it changes to a different sort of symmetry. But all changed dramatically when we reached the Chinatown. The row houses became more colorful, and with the traditional red gold decorations. It is like a crowded fair, the touristy roads. Lined with busy shops and their banners hanging by the side of the houses, these row houses presented a very festive mood.

In Washington and New York, I was a tourist. The row houses and neighborhoods I observed, therefore, were from a different point of view. I did not have the time to wander around leisurely. Living in San Francisco for 3 months allow me to do so. San Francisco is this city of mixed cultures with many cultural groups making the city colorful. I am staying in the Haight-Ashbury region where the bohemian subculture from during the 'Summer of Love' has left its impressions, making the neighborhood interestingly colorful. The wooden row houses in all shapes and sizes with very elaborate and gaudy facades line the roads. Being a hilly city, the row houses are somewhat elongated in shape. Their multistory structure enhances the impression. The houses are also characterized by a steep flight of stairs leading to the front door. What is interesting is that rather than sharing walls, most houses have the tiniest gap of barely a centimeter between the walls. Each house has a very different architectural design from the other. The colors range covers all hues in the palate. The highly ornate frontal in gold, silver, and white colors make the houses look very antique. One can just stand and admire one house for minutes before moving to the next one.

Row houses for me are somehow a presence of asymmetry in symmetry. Even though standing together, each is somehow a bit different from the other. All the different colors, decorations, sizes standing in a neat row make them interesting. Even when they are looking all same, small things like the window curtains, the little plant on the windowsill, the letterbox, the nameplate on front door etc, are all somehow telling stories of different families. Each somehow is like one individual, characteristic of its owners. I enjoy their colors, the neat postcard look, and the architecture. And then often times I just wonder about the families looking out through the similar windows. For me, each of these houses in rows has a different story to tell.

Y or Z??

I am talking about my kezboards. Ooops! Keyboards.

It was the first day of my visiting UCSF. I had to type in my name. And wow, I made spelling mistakes!! Z-s had replaced the y-s of my surname. Confused I looked at the keyboard. Welcome back to QWERTY keyboard. I had typed in like always without much looking at the keyboard, and failed to notice that the Y and Z kezs have interchanged positions. Oh there, it will be 'keys' not 'kezs' in the previous line. If I am not careful, I just continue making several mistypes.

It instantly reminded me of my first days with computer in Slovenia. The keyboards there have QWERTZ layout with additional special characters. The first days at work, I would just search around for a particular character for minutes. I interchanged y and z the thousandth time, and was searching for simple punctuation marks. I would simply forget the existence of the 'Alt Gr' key and try to figure out how to type in the curly braces while writing small scripts! I slowly started to get used to the new layout. But that would bring another problem. I still had my old laptop from India with the y and z in their old positions. New layout at work, old layout at home, it was such a confusion! I would mistype, and look at the keyboard and type again. Writing took like forever.
Anyway, after sometime, I got used to the new layout. I got a new laptop with QWERTZ keyboard. And life was again back to normal with one layout.

When I was visiting India last year, it was a bit funny using the home computer. However, I was not using computers much there, and that was rather amusing instead of being annoying.

But now I am back to square one.

I type z in place of y and y in place of z. And same thing happens when I am on my laptop. Each ';' of my scripts get replaced with a ':'. I do not know where to find the curly and square brackets. A few of the special characters are missing from work keyboard, and hence the keys are spaced differently. I am just slow and searching each character, making mistakes all the time. Often I search for the 'Alt Gr' key to type the '@' but do not find it on my keyboard. And then I forget about its existence and try to type '@' with a 'Shift'. It is a complete mess. I am working and concentrating on writing some commands and scripts, and then I have to shift all my concentration to the search of keys. Back in my room while going with the flow of my thoughts and writing, I again make mistakes. The keyboards are simply driving me crazy. Who will not be annoyed!?

So, if there are some exchanged y and z here, and spelling mistakes, you know who to blame..

Animal Planet

Animal planet is one of my favorite TV channels. When I was in high school, I was completely addicted to it. Now I am out of my 'addiction', but still love watching the channel. Discovering the wild secrets and peeking inside the world of animals is both fascinating and adorable. Wild, adorable, and magnificent, is the definition of animal world for me. So how much I am scared of dogs and do not really like to be in close proximity with animals, I do love them and like to know about them. Therefore, I like going to well-maintained zoos, or watch birds, and butterflies, frogs, insects and deer during some walks in the nature.

When I was planning this San Francisco visit for work, I was also happy to get a chance to explore a new city besides being busy with work. I always love traveling. And guess what my main attraction or interest was? No, it is not the famous Golden Gate Bridge. The Pier 39 sea lions were what I longed to see. Of course, I was also excited about the Golden Gate Bridge and planned to enjoy all other sites this colorful city has to offer. However, Pier 39 sea lions were on the top of my list. I wished to visit them before anything else. The first weekend after reaching San Francisco was rainy. As the sun shone the next weekend, I ventured out with all excitement to make friends with the sea lions.

Maybe some changing climate (? 1989 Loma Prieta earthquake) forced the sea lions to make the west Marina of Pier 39 their home. And then, the abundance of food and protected environment helped in their flourish until soon there were hundreds in the docks attracting tourists. However, in 2009-2010 the number of sea lions dropped down drastically for unknown reasons. Now, even though they have started returning, their community is not as big as before.

It was a bright sunny crisp Sunday and tourists filled the streets. Pier 39 was a cheerful assortment of all sorts of colors, sounds and activities. Shops were inviting and busy, people were busy walking around or sitting down lazily enjoying some fast food, live performances were going on. Finding my way through the colorful maze, I reached by the sea. White yachts and private boat lined the bay, Alcatraz island was in front of me. Sea gulls were flying and floating around making sharp calls. It was time for pictures and to admire the blue sea. Suddenly I noticed a sea lion in the sea. Away from others, it came out in the bay to explore and play around. Then soon it disappeared in the waves as a cruise boat passed by. Some animal sound was becoming distinct among all the noises, and as I walked ahead, the noise grew louder, like almost a barking sound. Cheering of people now joined in the sound. It is coming from the sea lions, I happily realized.

Crowds gathered at the edge to look at these adorable pinnipeds. There were around a hundred or so of them spreading over several empty docks. Most of them were lying and enjoying the nice sun. They were lazying around on top of each other oblivious of their surroundings. Some were busy swimming around, and going from one plank to another exploring them. Some were engaged in playful banter.

One was lying by the edge of the plank with its front flipper just touching the water. Gently playing with the water, it was lost in its own thoughts. Often they sat up, slowly scratched their chin, changed position, and then went back to sleep. Their lazy mood perfectly suited the lazy Sunday atmosphere.

Suddenly one started making sound, and others joined him one by one. Stirring the quiet air their loud 'unk unk' sound echoed around. And then, like it had started abruptly, their calls soon faded. It was such fun to watch these sloths walk over each other and go to the other side of the plank. Some liked to slide down in the water to enjoy a cool swim and then moved on to another plank for a rest. Or, it just went to a plank and put its front flippers and head up, observed for a while and then continued swimming.

One of the sea lions maybe wished some time alone and moved to an empty plank. It just got ready to enjoy a lonely rest, when another one joined in. Instantly the first one was annoyed. It wished the whole plank for himself; after all, he had got there first. So, he started to push this newcomer, frightening him with loud cries. The newcomer of course also did not give up so easily. And there started a fight. The timid newcomer however could not keep on holding to its position for long, and was soon pushed into the water. Instantly, the entertained crowd burst into a loud clap. The victorious sea lion turned around with an air of pride. However, now there was a sea gull to bother him. Amused by the previous fight this sea gull had come to enjoy the fight from close, and was sitting on the further edge of the plank. The sea lion barked long and loud enough until the sea gull was forced to fly on top of a nearby pole. Finally alone, this sea lion now laid down for its solitary rest.

I captured the sloth yet playful creatures in their several moods and poses. I also took a few short videos, as still pictures cannot do proper justice to these adorable characters. Slowly, I moved behind from the edge of the pier and gathered myself on one of the elevated platforms. I just sat there and looked ahead, relaxed and happy. In front of me was live Animal Planet. The sea lions continued their idle playful day....

Blooming spring

What I love most about spring? The earth blooming into a lovely assortment of colors..
Which is my favorite flower? I love all wild spring flowers, specially daisy and dandelion.

The snow melts into spring, the earth blooms into life, the birds start to chipper, and everything turns bright. This is one of my favorite times of the year.

In primary school, we often had to write essay on different seasons, specially spring. We call spring 'rituraj', the 'king of all seasons'. And all our essays would invariably contain some line saying how leaving behind the gray winter, the earth adorns itself in different colors of spring. However, in the busy city of tropical Kolkata, this change is not so evident. Except the foggy gray winter mornings and chill of the northern wind, winter in Kolkata is beautiful. The blue sky, beautiful flowers in all colors, many outdoor activities, warm woolens, it all made my childhood winters. With the onset of spring, native flowers of Bengal would start blooming filling the air with their captivating fragrance, cuckoos would coo, and it would start getting hotter. The non-native flowers blooming throughout the winter made the blooming of native flowers with the onset of spring less apparent and exciting. And now the changing climatic patterns have sadly made spring almost disappear.

Therefore, after coming to Slovenia, for the first time in true sense I experienced how earth emerges into life. Snowy and rainy Slovene winter is all white and different shades of gray. The only hint of color is the bright blue sky on those rare sunny days. As I enjoy the snow sparkling in its beauty, I do also miss the colors and sounds. All winter I wish more and more snow. However, towards the end of February, I already start anticipating the spring.

As the snow starts melting, the first hints of green appear from beneath. And then one day, as I walk towards work in the morning, I notice a couple of snow drops peeping out and preparing to open petals. Snowdrop is the first flower of spring, a small, simple and elegant flower. It is a pristine white flower with gentle touch of green hanging delicately from the stalk. Soon, the green fields get dotted white with these pretty snowdrops. After a few more days, I notice this little patch of lemon yellow. The primroses are starting to bloom. Trobentica in Slovene, meaning trumpets, these little flowers have a fun side to it. True to its name, this flower can really be blown as a whistle. The sound is very sharp and high-pitched. Often times I pick a few from the slope of the hill and try to blow the whistle.

Soon it will be the time for tiny daises to wake up and fields will become a bright shade of yellow with the sunny dandelion, two of my most favorite flowers. Around this time, I love to go for a walk in Barje. Little dots of colors here and there make everything so cherry and bright. On Mali Plac hill, there are stretches where telohes or Christmas roses grow. They are in these lovely shades of white, delicate pinks, and bright greens. The nature as if suddenly bursts into celebration of colors. There bloom liverworts, hellebores, Clot's foot, blue-eyed Mary, spring crocus, red-dead nettle, star-of-Betlehem, snowpake, wood anemone, butterbur, squill, and so many more for which I do not know the name. Anyway, that does not matter. I love to admire the beauty of those tiny dots in all shades of pink, yellow, blue and so on. The fine painting of yellow, black and white in the heart of bright purple irises is so exquisite. I love those little hanging blue and violet flowers from which I often see bees coming out after a good meal of sweet nectar. Wild daffodils bloom and make poets wander around. Gentle red poppies wave in the wind. A fresh fragrance fills the crisp air.

Those lines I used to write in my essay of spring now make more sense to me. I love how the spring blooms slowly, one after another in a synchronized orchestra of colors. As the gray earth turns bright, it is beautiful to watch the nature unfold into its glorious beauty. I like this gradual yet tangible change. The gardens and balconies also get beautifully adorned. But the free spirit of the wild flowers are more charming and graceful to me than the ornate blooms. These wild flowers to me are a celebration of colors, beauty, and life. I just simply love wild spring flowers.

Crunchy chocolates

“Okay, now you go somewhere else, I will prepare some sweets”, said Blaž, completely surprising and perplexing me.

It was a week before my 3 months visit to San Francisco. Nervous and worried and annoyed and excited, I was exhibiting my usual emotions before a long trip. I was staying at Blaž's place, to spend time with him and the family, and also to be less nervous. We had finished dinner sometime ago. However, like many evenings, I was still at the dinner table talking with his mom, and spooning delicious bits of the cheesecake. Then suddenly there was this unexpected comment from Blaž!!

It even took me a few moments to understand, such sudden and surprising it was. My initial thought was that maybe he got something sweet, maybe a chocolate or something to surprise me; and wishes to prepare that, like take it out from the box and so on. And my reaction was, “Now!?” “Do I go to the utility room for a few minutes and you prepare it?” I was not at all ready to go up and leave my chatting. I was also not prepared for something sweet at that moment, already full from the cheesecake. Well, I actually did not realize he is asking me to go up in the room for the evening so that he can prepare something sweet for me. Therefore, he had to explain how he was planning this sweet surprise for me, but did not get any time for preparation as we were always together. Now with little free time left before my travel, he had no choice than to 'spoil' his surprise and tell me to leave. His mama suggested that I could be at the table talking to her, and Blaž could cook in the kitchen. This way, he could prepare, and I could continue talking.

I was so very pleasantly surprised and happy. Excited and eager for the sweets he would prepare, I could barely keep my patience and seat at the table when he was just cooking there a few hands away. From time to time, he was asking mama what to do, or she was helping him. Slowly everything was falling into places, little puzzles that I had chosen to overlook that evening.

At the grocery, Blaž bought some unusual vegetable fat along with other ingredients. When I asked about it, he had promptly declared it to be as something mama wanted to get. Being a cooking enthusiast, soon after reaching home I had to ask mama what she was planning to cook with it. I knew that she was planning a lunch for the weekend and assumed her planning to try some new recipe. But, instead of telling me about a new recipe, she hurriedly replied that she had no plan; that maybe she would use it sometime later! It was a very strange answer to me. One does not ask someone to get a particular ingredient from the store in a whim, without a definite plan. However, I just did not pay enough attention to the strangeness. Later in the evening, I found Blaž over the phone talking to his grandma. While often he gives me the phone in such occasions to say hi and talk to grandma, this time he had just avoided it. I had thought that maybe I was wrong; and it was not grandma with whom he was talking but someone else. Then of course, I did not bother much.

Now it was revealed that the vegetable fat was for the sweets he was about to prepare for me. And in the evening he was confirming the recipe with his grandma. Of course he could not tell me all those when it was supposed to be a surprise! We had such a hearty laugh over it. His mama said how she was confused when I asked her about the butter. Not knowing what to reply and trying to preserve Blaž's secret, she just answered something. And after the answer she was herself thinking how weird and strange it sounded.

My whole attention and excitement was then centered on the chocolates he was making with the mystery ingredients. I had no clue how it would be like, what ingredients he was using. And I just could not withhold my patience. It was a new situation for us. Blaž having a cooking surprise for me! I was just super happy.

Blaž's surprise for me were crunchy chocolates!! Crunchy cornflakes folded in coco. It was so simple that “even I can make it”, he said..

Seeing my excitement, his mama suggested maybe I should join him in the kitchen. I would enjoy it much more if I am there watching him cook. And poor Blaž had to agree. The cat was already out of the bag, and it would make little difference if I was there 'allowed' in the kitchen. Eagerly I joined him, and started blabbering about my excitement and all the subtle hints I was getting all the evening. How come he planned it? Did he cook the recipe before? How will these viscous chocolate solidify outside a fridge, is it not too liquidy? I was bombarding him with all sorts of questions.

The chocolate was ready. I helped him spoon it into dollops. Then it had to rest overnight and go to the fridge in the morning. Blaž said they taste best when cold like all chocolates. I would get to taste them in the morning for breakfast. They looked too inviting and yummy, resting on the kitchen counter. Oh, when would morning come?!?

My breakfast next morning was chocolates. The crunchy bites of the cornflakes complemented perfectly the rich creamy smoothness of the coco and fat. The coffee gave a lovely bitter dimension to the sweet flavor of it, and at the same time added to its rich tempting aroma. I loved loved loved them. Each was quite big, but soo yummy that one cannot stop after having two. Now, two is too few! Closing the box and putting it away was the only way to stop eating. But then, the box can be reopened easily any time ;) It was simply so delicious.

Blaž is not a cook. He does not know much or have the feeling. When he cooks sometimes, he meticulously follows recipes or instructions and the dishes turn out very good. It was therefore something very special when he decided to make some handmade simple and crunchy chocolates for me. It was exciting, delicious, and more than everything, precious. I was not at all expecting something like that. It was indeed a priceless surprise. I do not know a word perfect enough to express all my feelings. It was so loving and thoughtful of him. The subtle and sweet way of him showing his love touched my heart, and I treasure the experience as one of my best memories. Aww, he does make me feel so much loved, his only one…

That batch finished quickly! He had to make another one and put a box in my suitcase!

I just cannot stop smiling and feeling special when I think of it…

Croaking chorus

One of my favorite songs from childhood is the Hindi song 'Awara bhavre'. This song echoes the melody in every sound, and whenever I enjoy music in the sounds of nature, I remember this particular song.

Clouds covered the sky and mid-March became rainy. The thunder and wet weather called the frogs out from under the mud of fields and woods. It was time for them to wake up from their hibernating sleep, pair up, and go in search of water grounds for breeding. And like the past few years, volunteers around Slovenia gathered up to help the frogs in crossing the roads. Blaž and I also joined our hands in the little effort to save the frogs and other amphibians. This time we were more informed and joined the campaign at the beginning of the breeding season. We picked up and helped more forggies and toads than last year, and got a closer insight of the green world of frogs.

Armed with buckets, gloves, lights and jackets, we reached one of the locations (Harše) soon after we finished work. It was a bit early, but we could not wait for the evening to set in and simply started the frog search in one of the fenced fields.

We were just about to step in the field when we noticed by the edge of the road, close to the fence, a pair of toads hiding in the mud and peeking through the hole. It was still day light and we had to take a few pictures before pulling it out. The male one of course gave little kicks as we touched it, and with an ‘ark ark’ sound the pair was finally safe in our bucket. And behold, another pair was hiding behind it with their face hidden in the mud. They too landed in the bucket. This made us a bit conscious. We had to look more carefully for hidden frogs in mud. I was afraid of stepping on them, hiding and camouflaging in the mud and grass. We proceeded keeping a careful watch and with light steps. The first ones we found were all paired toads somehow buried in mud. We had to be careful to not hurt them or pull them too hard from their hiding hole. One was a bit more inside the mud. As we tried to dig it out, the scared little toad buried itself inside and inside. We left that poor scared thing alone. Never did we know frogs could push such deep down in the soil to hide. With the soil being just wet and not too soft, I was amazed at their ability. One does not realize how animal behaviors have the element to surprise unless one experiences them.

The evening was setting in, and now more frogs and toads were slowly coming out from beneath the soil. Soon the timid marsh frogs and active common frogs joined in our bucket. A bit scared and wanting to escape, all were trying to gather and stand on top of each other. A couple of naughty common brown frogs even jumped out of the bucket to be instantly caught back in.

All along there was this beautiful composition of different croaking sounds from our bucket and from other buckets around us. The most common sounds were the ‘ark ark’ (okay I do not know how to make frog sounds in writing) from the male toads. And even when it was sound of one particular species of toads, there were variations in pitch and loudness creating a melody. Common frogs would join them with their ‘uk uk ukk kk’ calls in a rhythmic and repetitive fashion. The timid green marsh frogs has a distinct ‘rrrkkkk rrrrkkkkk’ call with characteristic pitch that could be identified as an infrequent part of the natural symphony.

It was time to take our bucket across the road and release the frogs in the wet field there. We went a bit further in the field than where other volunteers, and released our little scared frogs. Some were desperate to jump into freedom; some were too scared to venture out. All stopped for a few moments and then started croaking and hopping their way towards the water grounds.

Standing there in silence, we could only hear the chorus of the frogs. The characteristic calls of the male frogs formed a beautiful symphony. It was amazing to listen to all the different calls of different frog species tuned into a perfect harmony. Listening carefully, one could also recognize the voice of crickets and other night bugs along with the loud croaks. It was like a grand orchestra by nature. It was hard to believe that the main road was only a couple of meters away lit under the streetlights and cars were passing from time to time. It felt there on the field like an island of seclusion, where only the darkness of night and sounds of nature enveloped us. Feeling the croaking music gave a sense of bliss, the bliss of returning to nature. It was beautiful and simple. One of the best music I have ever heard.

Last weekend I was in California Academy of Science museum, where they were celebrating Earth day weekend. Amongst other events there was a 'Save the frogs' presentation talking about how several species of frogs are getting extinct and most are endangered due to human activities and climate change. The lecturer was an amphibian biologist. He was telling stories from his studies in Australia along with mimicking different frog calls. It reminded me of the beautiful frog symphony experience from that night. Then, as a side comment he mentioned: the frogs and other amphibians evolving millions of years ago survived major extinction events; but in the last million years we humans have done the work, and have managed to push them on the verge of extinction.

It will be unfortunate to not be able to experience and listen to the croaking chorus on the fields, in the woods, by the ditch on some wet day. Music will be lost if these sounds of nature fade away. I wish to continue enjoying the sights and sounds of nature, beautiful and awe-inspiring in their simplicity.

Maya bee and silly Willy

I love the snowy winter, and then I love it to bloom in spring. Spring is all about budding greens, gentle colorful flowers, and new life. It is about the color, fun, freshness, curiosity, and admiration of something new. Spring is all elements that resonates life.

Slovenia traditionally celebrates Pust festival 40 days before the Easter. Pust is a mask ritual celebrating spring and fertility. And the ‘Kurenti’ from the oldest Slovene town Ptuj is the center of attraction in this ethnological carnival. Kurent is a monstrous bear like animal mask, which is so adorable instead of being scary. I love its colorful towering ‘hat’ festooned with ribbons and feathers. The long red tongue and red leg warmers are bright and fun. They collect handkerchiefs as they go around, which tied to their wooden clubs, give it a bit of vibe. And the best part for me are the large bells tied on a string around the waist. The loud sounds echo with the rhythm of the dance setting in the perfect festive mood for spring.

While the carnival exhibits and celebrates traditional masks, children and people go for an ‘as you like’ trip of cute and fun costumes. Dressed in popular Disney and animation characters or cute animals, children are for days excited planning about it. And adults are not left far behind. Stores get full with all sorts of costumes. Competitions and dances are planned for the day.

After last Pust, Blaž was convincing me that I should dress up in something cute. And I agreed in jest, provided he also dresses up. We decided to be bees, I would be Maya and he Willy. However, it was only a couple of weeks before Pust, when we started to take the plan seriously. The difficult task of finding the costume was ahead of us with no time really to spend on preparation.

There are hundreds of these costumes for adults in stores that I do not really find so interesting. They are costumes of Dracula, and witches, some strange colored wigs, or maybe a clown. Why would I ever like to dress up in that anyway? I think I still have this girl in me.. I am shy to dress up, but when I did plan, I wished something cute and silly. Something sweet and childish. Something that echoes my heart and spirit. Therefore, I decided to be Maya bee from this adorable cartoon. Maya is such cute, naughty and thoughtful. She just makes me smile. And I love her naughty smile. I decided to be Maya, and celebrate the free naughty spirit in me. Blaž gladly agreed to be my silly Willy. With all plans set, it was time for costume shopping.

The shops had these cute Maya costumes. Alas, nothing cute matched the size of 'grown-up' children. We found cute bee caps, and got some face paints. And then I did find something for us. There was this costume, still for children, but in a kind of apron style. It was not a dress, but had elastics and with possibility of modifications. The costume was bright in gold and black and had those pretty net-wings. We decided to get it. I also got a large pair of antennas. Back at home, the elastics were of course too short for us, and needed some fixing to fit our size.

It was finally the carnival day. We were going to Ptuj. Early in morning, I woke up with excitement and started dressing. My black jeans and yellow sweater were perfectly complementing the shiny stripes of the costume. I had put on yellow bands on my two ponytails. The big antenna balls at the end of the springs were bouncing, and I was in a childish glee. Blaž had his black National Geographic fleece to go with the costume. But, he forgot the black winter jacket and brought his usual grey one. Well, after all he was silly Willy. Our cheeks were bright in yellow, and brighter with our smile.

Initially I was a bit hesitant to venture out as a buzzing bee. Stepping out in the fresh welcoming air of budding spring, however, made me shed away all my inhibitions.

Reaching there, we put on the wings, and then started walking towards the town center. Shining in bright yellow and smiling gleefully, I buzzed around. I was happy happy happy to be a bee. I did not have to look in any mirror to know my face was radiant. My heart was beaming and eyes shone in mirth. I skipped a step and ran around. Well, when I get to be child for a day, I utilize my opportunity fully. The same vibrant smile, a bit shy and dimpled, adorned Blaž’s face too. It is so much fun to hold hands and run down the streets. And giggling without reason. Children dressed as bees looked at us, like – oh look, they are also bees like us. Adults did so too, thinking us a bit strange and silly maybe. Well, not everyone. A grandma stopped us to say how cute we look and that was sweet. Whatever the world thought, we were genuinely happy and beaming.

People gathered all over drinking and eating. We walked around in the crowd taking care of our wings! Then we met Blaž’s cousin with their little son. Dressed as the cute sheep Jon, Filip looked at us bees with a bit of surprise and confusion. It was the time for the kurent show, and both me and Filip were impatient to leave all those hi-hello talking and go to the square to enjoy the loud kurents!! It is thrilling to watch them make those loud sounds with their bells as they dance in a rhythm. Then soon, you find your feet tapping.

Time and often we should let the child inside us wander around. And so did we that day. Passing the days in mundane routine, we fail to recognize the child in us. It was therefore a precious feeling when I could meet the carefree girl inside my heart and act her. The wings were those of happiness that made me soar free. I skipped and hopped while making my steps, and roamed around in childish delight. It was not simply the smile of a happy heart. It was the silly giggle and the cherry laughter with the innocence and amusement of a child. That is indeed a treasure worth holding on to.

Smiling and shining as Maya bee with my silly Willy Blaž, I was one happy soul. I was a girl again.