Poo

...is the first thought that comes to mind.

We arrived after a relatively peaceful journey, though two very early starts did make me a little less lively than usual. I musn't complain because my lovely man drove me to the airport before he went to work, which must have been hideous for him, particularly as we missed our turning and added a half hour onto our outbound journey.

(Thank you again, darling)

Anyway, like I said, we had a peaceful journey to the island and it had been lovely to see my aunt and cousins in Zagreb. I had a delightful chat with my cousin's kid about this and that - what he wants to be when he is older (a researcher, doctor, archeologist or miner, for some reason), what I will do now that I am no longer learning Croatian (find a job, a grant, a loan and study a course in how to make people happy - counselling) and how I learn new words. He asked me how I do this, if I am not studying in a classroom. I told him that I just ask, but it did make me wonder. How do we learn the accurate meanings of words, I wonder. I wonder, because I often don't and tend to make them up instead.

When we arrived in Veli Losinj, my first thought was how beautiful and overgrown the garden was and my second was "What's that smell?" I went to the bathroom and saw the floor covered in shit. Rather concerning. Mama had already discovered it and was busy shouting at the man who lives round the back. It turns out that he has the same outlet pipe as us and had managed to block it up, as he does every year, and never bothers cleaning because he is not on the ground floor, so it is no problem for him. Poor Mama drew the short straw (it being her house and her being used to cleaning five children's poo - my logic) and she mopped and cleaned with the bleach we bought especially for this purpose. Meanwhile, I hoovered the entire house of spiders (apologising to them as I hoovered them) and their cobwebs, bleached the kitchen and wiped down all the surfaces, doing a little tidying and focusing on my meditation while I worked.

As Mama continued to mop poo, the man from upstairs cleaned out the drains for us and I cooked a yummy vegetable dinner. Eventually, we were all done, the toilet, sink and shower could be used without forcing more poo out from under the floor and Mama and I sat down to eat a well-earned dinner. Then the thunder and rain started and it was so exciting!

We settled to do some internetting and discovered that Mama has lost her modem. Oh what a day! Thankfully, this village has come on a little in recent years and there are now places with free wifi in them. 10 Kuna (about £1) for a cup of tea, glass of mineral water and free wifi. There are silver linings to all situations.

Mama has returned from the butchers and I am off home with her. Day two almost over. Love to all. :-)

The Om Child

So I was sitting in Luton airport waiting to be lovingly collected (having already waited an additional two hours or so for my delayed flight) and thought I'd use the time well by listening to some mantras. I'd spent the entire day up to this point panicking about returning to the UK (even though this time it is only a couple of days), so I realised I needed to sort myself out.

So there I was sitting on the blue padded bench, headphones in, legs crossed in front of me, lotus style. My hands were resting in my lap and my eyes were open as I watched people mill around me, taking random little twists and turns like a stream of walking butterflies. Nothing untoward or odd about me at all.

Except there's this kid opposite me, maybe about seven years old, nine at the most, and he takes one look at me and then pops his legs in front of him lotus style, closes his eyes and holds his fingers in a meditation position - index finger and thumb making a circle and the other fingers loosely extended - hands resting on his knees. A proper little Buddha.

So there he sits, peacefully in front of me and every so often, I notice that one eye opens and he peeks at me from under his fringe. Is he making fun, I wonder, or is he joining in? How can he possibly know what I am listening to? I decide to wink at him and he smiles broadly and keeps sitting like a little Buddha until I leave the airport.

Randomness #2

Last night we had rain and thunder, the electricity waking me up and giving me back my energy. Yesterday ended up being one of the most enjoyable days for ages, as well as one of the most random, with some of the most uncomfortable encounters for a while (on which I shall not expand).

I woke up so tired having got to bed for 4am, but it was a night well spent (in the main) with people whose company I very much enjoy. I tried to sleep but a morning-Mama that potters makes for a sleepy Ninki, invariably. Some of us cannot sleep in the afternoon for hours at a time, not having yet transmogrified into doormice. Sadly. Maybe one day. When I am 70 years old too.

I think I have the beginnings of heartbreak. If I can use this word in that context. I have fallen in love more deeply with Croatia and got to know a part of me I hadn't really properly met before. I don't think I am quite ready to leave, but I know that this part will always be inside me now. I'll be back. Anyway, I have a few more days left of so much study and learning that maybe if I try hard enough I'll be ready to leave in five days. Especially if I spend more time with the people whose company I enjoy less...

Randomness

Today was definitely not a Ninki-day. I am now expecting gigantic amounts of luck, happiness and fortune to wing my way after the last 12 hours...

It started when I left my carefully prepared 'breakfast' sandwiches at home and then got the shakes from lack of sugar, but finally managed to find some food. My one litre bottle of water then spilled all into my bag wetting everything including my dress and only noticed by me when I saw the water trail I'd left behind me on the tram! I tell you, everyone was staring at me, like some scary girl from a horror film crawling out a slimy pond or something.

So then I arrived at the school feeling slightly perturbed and thought best to pop to the loo before getting on a coach for an hour, only to find when I tried to leave that someone had locked me into the school building. Fortunately someone came to let me out finally, after much shaking of the front doors and peering out of the barred windows.

Then when we were at our lunch destination a bug crawled down my dress and bit my tummy and all I could do was peer under my dress and watch him crawl up my tummy and finally fly out under my face. I couldn't get to him from below, nor from above, certainly not in front of everyone!

Fortunately this has been it for my mishaps. As we sang our final song at the end of a play we had to do for college, an enormous group of cute children joined in and then sang about five Croatian songs for us - it turns out they tour professionally and randomly happened to know the Slavonian songs we were singing for our play.

A totally random day, all in all. I wonder what my future brings after 12 hours of this... I await with curiosity, interest and an absolute lack of certainty about anything.

We're not home-grown Croats

This week has been culture-fuelled for me.

We went to the house of the artist/sculptor Ivan Meštrović (now dead), whose work I liked very much, albeit being somewhat dark and a little twisted in nature. Perhaps though, that's what attracted me. He would have been an interesting man to speak to, I think. I can't help wondering about the substance of a mind that would produce such images as those he created in bronze, marble and stone.

We also went to see two live bands: Lado and Cinkuši. My Mama adored the first (we managed to smuggle her in) and she tapped her size sevens and bobbed her little head along to the music - she looked like a little girl losing herself in the music, her eyes shining. That, more than anything, made me happy. It reminded me of when I was small and my Mama would play old Croatian songs on the piano while my sister and I danced around the living room, flinging off various items of clothing as we got hotter and hotter with our manic contortions. My heart was stolen by Cinkuši though, who somehow got into my heart, soul and feet with their beautiful beats and melodies. They had a very gypsy/Romany sound to them, I thought, slightly French, though I note they describe themselves as 'ethno-punk world music', whatever that might be...

Anyway, last night was Cinkuši and it was entirely and wholly my fault that I went out afterwards and did not get home until getting on for 2am. I have just one week left here and it was good to spend a little more time with those people to whom I have started to get attached, taking some time to get to know them a teensy bit more until we go back to the ways from which we came three weeks ago. It's strange, but for me there is something special about the folks on this course - they feel part of something I have not been able to define since childhood, that I now know is my part-Croatian-ness. Those people that I have connected with fit into my life and into my being in ways that home-grown Croats and other English people do not. In an odd way some of them seem to come from my planet more than most that I know. I am not sure how they'd feel knowing that I feel they come from my planet, but I love it. I need it.

Today is study and family time. Clearly I am procrastinating and putting off study until I update this, but that's the way it goes. It appears my time is up, sadly, but I really ought to get on with the deeply organised yet hideous grammar and vocab plan I have in mind for this evening, before settling down to watch a good Croatian film with Mama.

The letter J and mealtime

I want to write to you of the letter 'J'. This is rather a random one. I don't often use this letter, except when I write my sister's name as it doesn't really occur very often in English. However here it seems to be in every other word. I have noticed that my style of writing this letter has changed over the last few weeks. From a rather insignificant, feeble and weak little letter 'j' with not much substance, my letter 'j' has now been transformed into a full-bodied confident letter, with a deep sweeping curve, strong and healthy, fully on a par and able to compete with other letters. This I was contemplating in the shower this morning. I much prefer my new letter 'j'. Its style also seems to be sweeping into my letters 'g' and 'y' too. Most pleasing.

The other issue is meal times. I am venting, so I don't keep annoying my mother with my frustration with this language. Croatian for meal is obrok. I thought then that saying "I eat five meals a day" would utilise the normal plural and make it into obroci, but it turns out I must use a different case and make it into obroka instead. So many versions of one word. It would appear that I do not "eat five meals a day", but instead "eat five of meals a day", the non-English use of of making it GENITIV case. Oh when will this language seem logical to me?? Is my experience of Croatian how men experience woman worldwide, I ask myself? Is this just a lesson I must learn in order to understand how hard life is for the men in my life?

Identity split

So I've been thinking about my identity, partly because it's an element of my studies and partly because I've previously not really known which bits of me are my Croatian-ness and which bits were just Nina-ness.

We were talking in class about mothers being the real head of the family, always telling you how to cut your cheese, which knife to cut bread with, how to clean your clothes, when to change your towel etc, even when you're in your 30s (and presumably 70s too if they're still going strong) and have been doing all these things yourself for years, enjoying your choice of cheese, not quite cutting your fingers off, never being mistaken for a tramp etc. We were talking about mothers and fathers allowing their sons an awful lot more leeway than their daughters when it comes to being trusted to do things for themselves. I had a realisation (prompted by my brother) that this happens when the sons find another woman - their mother appears to trust them, but actually she has just let go, because there is another woman to look after them who can 'advise' on type of cheese to buy, which knife to use, when to wash clothes etc - they have been 'handed over' to another competent woman. The problem with daughters however, unless they're gay and find another woman possibly, is that they they will never have another woman to look after them - no they just have a man to look after. This means that their mother can never relinquish control (sorry, did I say control? I meant, of course, to say 'the advisory role'). Their poor daughter will never be looked after in the manner of their sons and therefore must forevermore be advised by their mothers about cheese, knives and washing. That is how it works. Then, one day, comes the baby talk - how to change nappies, when to feed, how to cook for young ones. It is never ending. I am sure if they were alive, mothers would also advise on funereal arrangements too, and possibly also beyond: how to lie comfortably and beautifully in death, how to avoid drafts while lying in a coffin, appropriate occasions on which to make beyond-the-grave visits to the living and so on.

I am guessing too, that no matter how much I might ignite internally (and sometimes externally) whenever these conversations come round and however much I might swear that I will never do that to my children, the problem is, I know I am always right and so most likely I will see my children doing things as I would not and I will be compelled to tell them so!

So we have a special breed of mother and an outside-Croatia perception of Croats is that they love their mothers (according to research). It is a tight family, at least from the outside, although on the inside of a family there are squabbles that are decades old, where the detail is long forgotten and where the subject matter is usually all about land - who owns that square metre of land under the stairs of the house inherited by five children and split up accordingly. They will fight to the death for ownership of this highly valued piece of land and once it is resolved, it will start all over again with their children because none of the decisions and resolutions were ever legally or formally recorded.

I have just come from lunch at my aunt's where we were eight - me, my Mama, two aunts, one uncle, two cousins, and the son of one of the cousins (minus his four front teeth). It amazes me how I ever learned any Croatian with them around me, because not once sentence was finished and not one word was spoken in isolation. That is, at any given time at least two people were speaking. Not once did anyone take the floor for themselves. In Croatian families at meal time you have to shout to make your story heard and probably more than once, and most likely your story will be told in parts, interspersed with someone else's more urgent words, or some commentary on the truth, practicality, validity, sensibility, or some other -ity of your words, sentence structure, ability to speak your language or tell your story.

This reminds me of one of our lectures about Croatian traits as perceived by non-Croats. Those that I am not proud of (and naturally do not associate with myself) I shall hurriedly list first and then I shall end with the ones that remind me of me and that I consider positive traits, so as to ensure you are left with a sweet taste in your mouth.

The 'bad' ones were corruption and conceitedness, neither of which I associate with myself.

There were also some that I didn't think applied to me that seemed neither good nor bad: patriotic (though I suppose I would need to define what 'home' is to me) and conservative.

The others I felt were wonderful and made me feel like I had come home when I heard them - I felt like I belonged to the people these words described, though of course perhaps my English modesty suggests to me that it is not up to me to say that these are my traits. They were:

• Dreamers, adventurers and explorers
• Individual and stubborn
• Clever, intelligent and capable
• Casanovas/good lovers
• Good looking (in the eye of the beholder - I know some who think I am and when the mirror is being friendly, so do I)
• Honest, faithful and open
• Brave and desirous of justice
• Love of their mothers (indeed, except for the above-mentioned 'advisory role')
• Making sacrifices (for me, for love only)
• Hard working (when required, otherwise balance and fun is as important)
• Hospitable (except when I forget to make the tea I have offered, or only have a tin of tomatoes and one carrot with which to make dinner for my five guests)

This is me and I like that. I wish my language skills were so good that I could jump in and shout quickly, as I do in English, but for now, my conversational skills are limited to groups of four people or less, or those who are polite enough to be quiet while I speak!

Now I must go and study outside in the 33 degree heat, because it is too cold in this house for me and my fingers are cold as I type, while I wear my scarf and wish I had my woolly walking socks on. No, it would seem that 25 degrees is too cold for me.

Fairies and forks #2

Well so it gets even more complex, this language, in relation to fairies, it seems... Got this email from my Mama.

I shall start at the beginning!

• Vila = fairy
• Vile = fairies
• Mala vila = little fairy (if there be such a thing) 
• there has never been given in my folklore the size of vila/fairy, but the men dream of a fairy as a very desirable woman (in folklore) 
• Vila = villa (that is a beautiful building)
• Vilica = jowl (as in of the jaw = čeljust) 
• Vilica = fork (to eat with)
• Vile = implement for turning hay over during haymaking (in that case a wooden implement, usually has three prongs) or cleaning cowsheds and replacing old straw (usually iron with four prongs)
• there is only a plural form in this meaning of the word.

That is all I can think of at the moment, I challenge you to find more meanings!

Fairies and forks

In English you might think there are no links between these subjects but in Croatian there most definitely is a link.

Vila is fairy. The diminutive of this should be 'vilica' according to the rules, however 'vilica' in Croatian means 'fork', so I ask you, what would 'little fairy' be in Croatian?? Any of you Croatian speakers, please let me know!! Comments welcome.

Ja ne prodajem zjake

This is what I heard this evening on my evening of tea, coffee and cake (to which my comment of "But I'm not hungry" was met with "It doesn't matter - you don't need to be hungry to eat").

"Ja ne prodajem zjake."

"I don't sell...what?" I asked my aunt and my Mama and was faced with two women in their 70s staring at me wide open eyes and wide open mouths, all teeth showing. Almost frightening on a dark Zagreb backstreet - if they hadn't been almost croaking with laughter. I couldn't help laughing either, but still had no idea what on earth they were saying. It turns out they were gawping at me. 'Zjake' means gawps - when someone is gawping. The phrase means "I don't sell gawps." All part of learning about Croatian culture...

I might write some more about what I've learned about Croatian culture. Being here has made me realise how much of who I am is actually Croatian and not just a bit odd. It feels like I have finally come home. I am among people who are the same as me. It's wonderful. A country full of me! :-)

PS It's not a myth - chocolate does help

Any packages containing dark chocolate and hazelnuts are always most welcomed.

I am not superwoman

Today is one of those days where everything seems to tip me over the edge. Danas sam bila na rubu. I think this is how it's said. The slightest words of comfort or understanding and my eyes well up, so it has been a sunglasses day!

The grammar is hard for me and as this is the first two hours of every day, each day, for me, starts with something I feel cannot do. I find this very demoralising. I came home and studied until late last night, though I did have a wonderful with conversation with the exceptionally funny and kind man in my life, which definitely cheered me up.

I have to keep telling myself, firmly, that I must focus on my current objectives:

JULY

• learn more Croatian (not all Croatian)
• spend time with my aunt and my Mama
• do things that keep me happy 
• run from time to time and do yoga when I can
• sleep enough and eat healthily
• chat with the exceptionally funny and kind man in my life
• read books and watch films in English or Croatian

AUGUST

• apply for jobs (not necessarily find one immediately)
• think of other ways to survive in case the job is not forthcoming immediately (when I return apply for temping jobs, and for grants and loans)
• sort out all course related stuff
• do things that make me happy (as above)

Anything else can be forgotten about for now. I am not superwoman and must stop trying to pretend I am.

Grmljevina!!! Thunder!!

Grmi, sijeva, vrijeme se mjenja, a ciganke varošanke još iz sela nema.

It's thundering, it's lightening, the weather is changing, and the gypsy town woman has not come back from begging in the village.

Academic quarter

Having a discussion with my big brother about Spanish time and how it seems to run more slowly than in the UK or, perhaps, more quickly, such that everyone is always late and everything takes ages to happen. Not sure what is going on, but things are always slow. We agreed that Croatian time is also like this.

When we started the Kulturni Program, they told us that one thing we needed to be aware of in Croatian culture is that everyone is always late, but that because our programme is so tight, we are only allowed to be five minutes late, maximum.

Apparently, according to my Mama, there is an 'academic quarter' in Croatia, which allows lecturers to be 15 minutes late at all times, although the students must always be on time. It seems that the relaxed timings in Croatia are also hierarchical - you must earn the privilege to be late.

Well there we are, this is my latest on Croatian culture.

My feet are clearly beautiful

So I was sitting in Zrinjevac happily reading my book and I hear a click. I look up to see a man taking a photo of my feet, resting on the bench in front of me. I glare at him and he puts his hands together and bows smiling at me, Japanese style. He is not Japanese. I can't help smiling back.

There's always a silver lining :-)

In among so much change, some parts of life carry on as normal.

My brain is starting to scramble languages and sometimes people speak Croatian and I think they've been speaking English. I guess this is a good sign, because it means my comprehension is switching sides. The air is warm and muggy and I am reminded of when I lived here, so many years ago, in different times when Croatia was still, officially, Yugoslavia. The sounds outside take me back to another time and the skinny street cats too. Everything here feels different to me, yet somehow the same as some other life I once had.

Those around me are familiar now, but not from my normal life. The thing is, my normal life, as was, is gone. The home I had, the job I had too, quite probably, and I will start the last stage of my counselling training when I return with a new group of people: people who are strangers to me right now, but who, in a few months, will know things about me that more than 99% of the world will never know.

Everything feels uncertain and my association with this changes, like waves on the shore. Each moment feels different - sometimes I am excited about what might be, sometimes uncertain and afraid, sometimes fearful that I won't find a job, sometimes concerned about how I will live, sometimes sure that all will be okay as it always has been okay and sometimes just nothing except wondering what will be and that, really, is something none of us knows for sure.

My belly has been bloated and I started to worry I might be pregnant, momentarily, (a thought that passes every woman's mind every so often). I then dreamt I was and the feeling felt so familiar (even though I never have been) that I awoke knowing I wasn't. I felt too different in waking life to how I felt in my dream. Funny how clever the mind is. I am guessing the bloating was a change in diet to enormous amounts of bread, which my body is not used to.

This morning I had cramps, which brought my confirmation. In among all this uncertainty and change, I woke up this morning with agonising cramps in my belly and was brought a reminder that some things continue - this monthly agony, while painful, is familiar. This means I know how I will feel each time the pain comes and I know how I will feel when it goes away, most likely fading this afternoon and disappearing by tomorrow. Though most of life is unknown and unpredictable, there are some things we always know. This, oddly, brings me comfort.

Peasants

Had a lecture on Croatian political history today. I learned about the many hands Croatia has been ruled by since 1900 and about the uprising of the peasants including the creation of the Croatian Peasants Party (prior to which only 10% of Croats had been allowed to vote).

This evening I was watching Monty Python's sketch 'the Annoying Peasant' and it very much reminded me of what I'd listened to in the lecture...