Balconies: best of both worlds

Balconies have always fascinated me. I realise that wherever I go dozens of the pictures are from balconies. It's good watching balconies but also being on balconies. I got the taste for sipping wine or beer in fresh air especially after spending hundreds of hours on the one below, the beloved Tulipan street, 16 in Budapest.

Somehow on a balcony one has the best of two worlds: the security of home and the clear sky: the fridge is never too far and Venus is there for you with your first glass of wine. Balconies are even better if you can play music in the background or even if the only music is the one of the cicadas.

View from Balcony on Tulipan street, 16 (Budapest)

Poruguese balconies are a special breed: there is rarely place for a small table or chair. It's a balcony to lean on and greet your neighbour or an observatory balcony. The one below is a thought over composition: the scarf and the flower match perfectly well.

Central Lisbon: composition

The balcony below would be lovely in summer when the tree is in leaves. That's in Alfama - a magic place with an Arab history and feel.

Balcony in Alfama: old Arab part of Lisbon

Fortunately, it is still not forbidden to dry one's clothes in Portugal. Who was the one to decide that this was ugly.


The balconies below are on the hill symmetric to Alfama - Bairro Alto. Writer Fernando Pessoa was living not far from here. One can see that buildings are better taken care of. And....no clothes, maybe drying them here is forbidden after all.

Bairro Alto (Lisbon)

The one below is in Bairro Alto too, the ex-resident is back, transformed into a dove. Balconies are also the life behind them. Remember La Vie, Mode d'Emploi (Life: A User's Manual) by George Perec.

Abandoned house: Bairro Alto

Somehow, the is the most hopeful balcony. It is right above a Fado place in Alfama. I imagine that this tree throws a lovely afternoon shadow in the room and the light plays endless games on the white bed cover.

Balcony over a Fado place (Alfama, Lisbon)

The balcony below is a small rooftop garden, ideal for watching a World Football Championship or a good movie in the open air.

Rooftop balcony

And there are a couple of balconies outside Lisbon too. Like the one below. Maybe.

Corner balcony: Coimbra

Even trivial things so used and tried

Today I was fully under the spell of Andrey Tarkovsky's Mirror. A month ago I had the urge of watching quality Russian cinema again and we started by Mirror and what a good choice.

I was thinking today why I liked it so much and what makes it different. I know it sucks a bit to demystify beauty but a bit of rationalism wouldn't hurt after all. I live in France after all, 200 m. from the place where Voltaire spent the last 20 years of his life.

One of the things that I really liked is the dream-like character of the shooting. Tarkovsky kind of invites us all to dream with him of his childhood. I don't know how he does this from a cinematography point of view but it seems to me that it is mostly through the long takes. I like so much these long minutes when the camera roams in forests and meadows, looks into the eyes and then away into the distance. Good life is a long take, isn't it? Today I have been thinking that a long take shows a bigger respect to the viewers, there is less trickery in a way. Long takes slow down time and free space for thinking.

This is the second reason I liked it so much - the free space. Mirror is a movie where there are lots of free spaces for thinking and living-with in a compassionate way. By free spaces I don't mean clumsy gaps but silences which one can load with emotions or let go in a Buddhist way. It's again about respect for the viewer, about giving him/her a share of authorship.



Dealing with time in this movie is phenomenal. Tarkovsky shows so well that one is the child one used to be. In a way time is one, times merge together and childhood is not left away in a dusty attic. Indeed, it is reflected in a mirror and often swims in white haze but it is still there, just a dream away.

Mirror is a also a movie about the father, the missing father. Arseny Tarkovsky, an important Russian poet, left the family when Andrey was five. The father who used to appear on the horizon came no more. Arseny's beautiful poetry is read throughout the film. There is no judgment there. Things are as they are, beauty is all around.

This is a link to the First Date poem which is about love, of course. Both the Russian original (very beautiful) and the English translation are there.

And suddenly all changed, like in a trance,
Even trivial things so used and tried.....

And....if you are curious about it, just watch at the scene I embedded. It's seven minutes but it is worth it. It's a scene of intense beauty where one finds all: the longing, the endless sadness, the mysterious wind.........And among all this the amazing stranger who comes by mistake, quickly understands all about her loneliness, falls with her and then surprisingly throws this pantheistic idea about the plants which feel, know and comprehend. All our problems come because we refuse to trust the nature which is in us, because we don't have time to think....

From Village to Village, Violin in Hand

Yesterday, at dinner, when asked what he wants to be in life my elder son Boris replied 'I want to be a Gypsy'. He clarified that he wanted to be a Gypsy in order to play his violin all day long, do gardening and wonder from village to village.

Gypsy girl with a mandoline,
Camille Corot, 1874

I think this is not such a bad choice at all although we tried to explain that you don't become a Gypsy, you are born one. We also mentioned that you can play violin and do gardening without necessarily being a Gypsy. However, he insisted on the choice of profession for some time. It is possible though that you can play violin, do gardening and travel from village to village only if you are a Gypsy.

Gypsy in reflection, Courbet, 1869

I don't know from where Boris gets his fascination about Gypsies. When asked how he know that Gypsies wonder from village to village he answered with his usual matter-of-fact air 'I just know, it's like that'.

It is a known fact that Gypsies have long been romanticized as we can see on the Corot's and Courbet's paintings. Unfortunately it is not the case any more in France especially after last years Bulgarian and Romanian Gypsy incursion. At the entrance of Ferney-Voltaire where we live it is written in an euphemistic way that wondering people are not welcome on municipal territory. I am afraid Boris will have to change his choice of career.

Andrej Turns Four or How Pizza Found Pizzo

A couple of days ago Andrej finally turned four. I say 'finally' as not being four had been a serious problem for him. For him the more, the better. Sometimes when he is angry with me for not letting him eat a fifth sweet he tells me 'You are zero years old' showing his fists without any fingers sticking.

Andrej turned four on Thursday and we wanted him to spend the day with his classmates preparing a cake but unfortunately both his teachers fell ill and I had to keep him home for the day. As the sun dared to peep through the clouds I decided to take him downtown Geneva for a walk to his favourite Parc des Bastions.

Our walk started next to Plainpalais, next to a statue of a philosopher. Who is it, I wonder? Andrej also has a skeptical look as all philosophers should have, shouldn't day? Yes, I turned four and I reached the goal but now my new target is five. Andrej is shooting at a moving target.

Andrej and the philosopher

I don't know why but I have always been attracted by water taps which are used in case of a fire. There was one at the corner of my street as a kid and it was always a silent presence except on the day when an old house burned and the firemen used it as a water source. They can often be beautiful urban objects.

By the water tap

We are already in the Parc des Bastion, one of the nicest places I know in Geneva. The park is quiet now, expectant of the spring to come. Andrej is posing in the next two pictures engaged in a psychological battle with the camera. Will you take a picture of me or will I take a picture of you?

Condensed happiness (1)

Condensed happiness (2)

The park is famous for its chess boards and I thought that Andrej could pose as a pawn at H2, ready to strike the non-existing enemy.

An important chess figure - Andrej

After the Parc des Bastions we went to a little square in the old town overlooking the park. That's a perfect spot for watching the winter sunset over the park. It is also a place where the 'official' chestnut tree is located meaning that the chief botanist of the canton observes the coming of the spring on this particular tree.

The official chestnut tree

This little square hides a set of very appealing old kids' toys, simply different from the standard set of toys one can find at playgrounds. Here is a merry-go-round where you have to pedal. Andrej's legs were not long enough though and we had a problem. Mine were not short enough. Some cutting and pasting of legs would have been needed for a perfect peddling couple.

Virages

Here is a small Trojan horse but no one should be afraid of it and your hard disk will stay intact.

Trojan horse

And, of course, we finally made it to this obscure object of desire - the chocolate muffin. All the suffering, walking, posing and playing was just an excuse to reach this coveted goal - a fresh, warm muffin with a vanilla filling with a hot chocolate in case the chocolate-ness of the muffin is not enough. If I can paraphrase Freud: it is not all about sex, it is all about chocolate.

A well-deserved muffin and hot chocolate

Even a muffin has an end and we had to go. On the way down to the lake we discovered the missing half of Pizza, her partner, her love. This is Pizzo. It is a perfect Yan and Yin, Yin and Yan.

Pizza can finally be happy - Pizzo is found