I did usually hunt for Moon (many times, LOL). for Venus (typical woman, timid and tricky, LOL), as for our own Sun – more than I should have, LOL. I was able to spot Orion from the Atlantic coast hanging from it’s cosmic street light post. But Sirius always was tricky. Today I choose a perfect night – clear and bright of of all the stardust flickering as on Christmas tree.
Tripod set steady an here we go. Only 8.5 light years away. What’s a light year for a dreamer? Nothing, really. Sirius being actually a binary star is often fluctuating in light waves and it shows on some of the photos. On one or two, I think, you can see the little sister of Sirius as a bluish spot. And yes, Orion is not far away, nor the two vey angry hunting dogs: Canis Major and Canis Minor protecting Sirius from very serious hunters set to destroy our star – the twins Castor and Pollux. On the other hand – what does it matter if the huge giant-star Antares could explode any day now. And I mean it is a huuuuge red giant. And it will collapse any second, and the show will be visible from Earth. Unlike another star that visited Vancouver recently – for that Antares show tickets will be free, LOL. Grab you folding chair and get ready. Really – anytime. Anytime between tomorrow and a … milion years from now. You see, the stars are extremely finicky, their concept of time is very much not in line with ours. But that I can’t fix. Not even with my old camera. Goodnight now.
During the long Pleistocene there were few glacial movements in what is known now as an Okanagan Valley. It created an amazing mixture of land and water formations near Kelowna. Of course Okanagan Lake, the largest depository and former deepest channel of the glacier as it retreated from these lands. But there is multitude of smaller lakes stretching to Shuswap and Arrow Lakes to the east and multitude of smaller lakes in the mountains and hills surrounding the valley. Between – a maze of streams and small rivers feeding middle size lakes (Maramata, Kalamalka and Wood – to name just a few) or the huge Okanagan Lake.
Today I went for trek to some of the high hills (mind you – still hills, not proper mountains) on the southeast above Kelowna. It is a mixture of grassland and small patches of wooded area with pines and shrubs. Human habitation is ever encroaching there, as people build more and more monstrous mansions higher and higher. Still, I hiked higher and further. At a certain spot, traversing a deep gully with very steep sides I have noticed a narrow trail from the bottom to the other side. As the gass was half frozen and numerous patches os snow made it slippery, I gladly took that narrow trail. I realized quickly that it was narrow for a good reason – it was not made by other hikers but by animals. The only marks I found were those of coyotes and very distinctive footprints of a bear. As the slopes were very steep, I couldn’t see what was on the other side and ascertain how fresh the footprints were. My chances of running very quickly on that terrain were rather slim. But today our paths did not cross… , LOL. I followed, were I could, old existing trails: aptly named Hoodoo Trail, Coyote Trail and Grassland Trail. In parts – mostly it was just the grassland and the trails appeared and disappeared under the grass and snow.
The view from these hills toward the city far away and the mountains above me was just amazing. An eagle was screeching angrily at me – go home! And laughingly I yelled back at him: never you mind, I will not bother you, go away! Which he did flown away from hi s nest on one of the tall pines. The eagle also gave sign that a true spectacle was just about to begin: the absolutely stunning sunset on the west side and almost full moon on the east. It was something to behold. Hope my camera captured part of it. Enjoy.
In the middle of Kelowna there is a magic street called ‘Graham Road’. It is magic not only because of the name (my husband’s and soulmate) but because it is magic during the Christmas time. We went there tonight with my cousin, a good week after Christmas – but there was still plenty to marvel at. Check it out yourself. And next time you are during that time – remember to go there for a walk or drive .
There is a place full of magic. Place that deserves an ode, a poem. But a poem that you, the Reader, will have to write using your own words. I will just offer you some imagery captured on camera during my last visit to Vancouver ( a city full of its own magic and beauty). Therefore, without further ado, let me take you for a walk through that magical place.
Chodzę moimi ulicami, zaglądam do moich kawiarenek. Do Naszych Miejsc. Uśmiecham się do mijanych ludzi, rozmawiam nawet z nimi.
Nagle spostrzegam, że jestem cieniem. Spoza ich świata, poza nimi, obok. Nie, nie umykam chyłkiem, jak złodziejaszek kieszonkowy, jak przemytnik. Ale przenikam między nimi jak cień właśnie. Taki nie całkiem materialny.
Siedzę teraz w jednym z pokoików naszego Queer Community Centre[i] na rogu Davie and Bute. Lubiłem tu przychodzić. Sam, z Johnem. Taki dom poza domem. To tu był pierwszy w historii nowożytnych olimpiad oficjalny Gay Olympic Pawilon (Pride House)[ii]. Po tamtej Olimpiadzie takie Pawilony stały się normą sankcjonowaną przez MKO (Międzynarodowy Komitet Olimpijski). Uroczy recepcjonista wita mnie z uśmiechem i pyta czy ma mnie oprowadzić. Uśmiecham się, znam tu przecież każdy pokoik i zakamarek; przesuwam się bezszelestnie (cienie robią to świetnie) korytarzykami do jednego ze znajomych pokoi, siadam przy stoliku, otwieram notatnik i piszę właśnie te słowa.
Nałkowska używała w swoich Dziennikach często ten zwrot przy kolejnych wpisach: i znów zaszła zmiana w polu mojego widzenia. Ale tu teraz to nie pasuje. To ja – patrzący – przeszedłem zmianę. Stałem się przeźroczystym cieniem.
Ile jest takich cieni spacerujących ulicami? Czy mijam ich sam na skrzyżowaniach nie zauważając nawet? Może moja transformacja jest jeszcze za świeża, jeszcze nie zadomowiła się w mojej świadomości? Niełatwo, bo jeszcze słyszę stuk mojej laseczki i uderzenia cholewek na krawężniku trotuaru.
(English version)
It has been so peaceful and pleasant for the first few days here. Here – back to Our Home, Vancouver. You walked with me; you held my hand. At times – it seemed – you placed a kiss on my cheek.
But it changed abruptly. I noticed it on my second trip to Downtown Vancouver. I was alone. You were nowhere to be seen, to be touched. You were gone. As I know that you are.
Today I ventured closer to our first home on Capitol Hill in Burnaby, as I went to Commercial Drive in East Van.
Commercial is a lovely stretch of space between Hasting and Boadway, that contains people, their laughter, neighborly shopping in plentiful little shops, cafes. It is also a perfect mix of rich and poorer, accountants, architects and artists and artisans. Went to the Cultch Theater – the last play I have seen there years ago was a very good adaptation of “Waiting for Godot”, we went there to see it together, with You.
Stopped by Your favored shop on the corner of Commercial and Venables. Later I had sweets and excellent coffee in one of the cafes.
I looked everywhere. In vain. It came to me in a physical, sharp pain. As if something heavy and cold penetrated my heart. Something that screamed at me angrily: he is not here! He is gone! Oh, I so wanted to pick up a street fight with that screaming ugly IT, have even raised my walking stick a bit, was ready to shout back at IT: you are a liar! He is here, with me!
But there was no one around to scream at. The Screamer was not material, was invisible. But it was loud and clear.
You attempt to re-fight battles that you have had already lost is always futile.
There are big metropolis like Rome, New York, Vancouver, Paris; there are big cities, major centres of commerce, trade, culture; and there are small towns. These towns are often unknown little gems, picturesque, quaint. Known only to their residents, and few neighboring, equally small communities.
Such is Ladner in British Columbia Lower Mainland. It is actually located near a major artery leading to largest Ferry Terminal connecting Vancouver to Vancouver Island – but hardly anyone from these travelers stop in this little historic town.
It is a charming community. There are buses here, but the truth is that once you are inside – you can get anywhere by foot or biking. Have been here numerous times years ago, when I lived in Vancouver. Now I have come back for a few days to stay with some friends. And did that picturesque walk with my camera. Summer is of course preferable time. But beginning of December offers the chance to see the Christmas lights and decorations. Sometime it feels (after dark especially) like you are in a fairy tale. Here are some pictures from the historic centre of it.
Ostatni raz jechałem tą szosą siedem lat temu. W przeciwną stronę, na drugi brzeg tego kontynentu.
Szukaliśmy portu przyjaznego.
W dolinkach i w zatokach
drugiego oceanu,
gdzie lasy rachityczne,
gleba czerwona,
fale wspaniale muskularne.
Szukaliśmy nowego życia.
Nie znaleźliśmy.
Zgubiliśmy Twoje.
A przecież to tu, nad tym oceanem opartym o potężne, wysokie jedlice Douglasa w wilgotnych puszczach – tu był nasz dom. I tam jadę tą szosą z powrotem. Sam, bez Ciebie. Szukać Twoich śladów.
Górskie mgły, niczym
firanki nieba,
wałęsają się między
koronami drzew,
opadają jak woalki
na skalne ściany.
Zaraz dojadę do Hope. Do Hope, do Nadziei – małego, starego miasteczka, które otwiera bramę do wielkiej doliny rzeki Fraser prowadzącej do Vancouveru.
Spinam ostatnią klamrę naszej epopei. Nagle, właśnie nad tym Hope ukazuje się mała pochodnia słońca. Rozchyliła kotary chmur i uśmiechnęła się do wracającego tułacza. Syna marnotrawnego, czy męża owdowiałego? Wierszoklety, któremu poza słowami nie pozostało już nic.
Jestem w domu bezdomny.
Przyjechałem do nas,
A nas nie ma.
Mimo to jestem,
dotykam naszych drzwi,
patrzę na nasze krajobrazy,
pukam w okna naszych mieszkań.
I nagle, niespodziewanie bierzesz w swoją dłoń moją rękę. Uśmiechasz się. Po prostu zwyczajnie idziemy razem naszymi ulicami trzymając się za ręce. Jak gdyby nic się nie zmieniło, nic się nie stało. Jakby nie było odjazdów i powrotów. Jakbyś żył.
Więc nie wydawało się, nie był to wybryk zmęczonej wyobraźni, splątany kłębek bólu, smutku, majaków. Nie – jesteś ze mną faktycznie. Może nikt inny Cię nie widzi, ale to jest bez znaczenia. Ważne, że my się widzimy, poznajemy.
Pójdziemy naszą ścieżką
przez Stanley Park,
od laguny do mostu.
Ogrody Różane nie
kwitną o tej porze,
ale my je zakwiecimy,
rozlejemy opary słodkich
zapachów różanych
i siądziemy na ławeczce
obok, trzymając się za ręce.
Będziemy. Ja i TY.
Spacer ścieżką pamięci przy naszych domach i mieszkaniach w Surrey, ranny spacer w Sapperton w New West, ścieżkami Stanley Park w Vancouverze.
This was one opportunity I didn’t want to miss. Last night piano concert of Nikolay Khozyainov in Kelowna, British Columbia. Have heard of this young pianist few times and his fame proceeded him. Was wary, though. Big fame and being a child prodigy (he started playing in … Siberia – in all of forbidden places – at an early age of six and as a child already performed in Russian cities, including Moscow, a city with earned reputation of being very strict in offering the stage to no one but the best as far as music is concerned) can be misleading and sometimes such career is cut short and musician falls into obscurity.
But Nikolay is no longer a child, and no longer a prodigy of anyone but his own talent and hard work. Bought the tickets well in advance while I was still in Halifax so as not to risk missing the concert.
A fact that he was a finalist in 2015 famous Warsaw’s International Chopin Piano Competition certainly cemented his statue as a pianist, and opened the doors of many international stages to him.
The auditorium in Kelowna’s Waterfront Art Centre is an elegant venue but not a very large one. But the seats are well arranged, and it looked like you could see the stage from every row and corner. In a small venue like that I usually choose either an isle seat or a seat at the very back (best for making quick notes without disturbing anyone).
Day was cold and being next to the huge lake added to that unpleasant coldness of late November. But inside the atmosphere was pleasant. My surprise was that there was not a printed program. In a concert where many pieces of many composers will be played it is helpful to have one. That was a serious minus on the side of the venue administrators. That was not the end of surprises, though. LOL.
When the virtuoso appeared on the stage I was – to say it elegantly – amused. Long gone are the days when longtails were the only accepted attire. Slowly they were replaced by afternoon elegant jacket, even black sweaters (Oh, Mon Dieu!). But pants remained elegant, sharply pressed. And shoes. Ah, the shoes – they are actually important, as they play, too – alongside hand and fingers. Something has to touch the pedals, LOL. Therefore shoes were elegant leather, shiny.
When Maestro Khozyainov entered the stage – he wore non of it. Pardon, except the light but elegant jacked. No, no. He wasn’t half naked! Just the rest of the attire really does not belong on a stage in a concert hall. Even in Kelowna. I was wondering how his cozy and warm winter shoes will feel the pedals …
I know, a bit long introduction – but I was truly amused by all of it.
Alas, back to music. Khozyainov begun with Chopin’s Nocturn D Flat Major, Op. 27. I thought it was a bit rough at times. The beautiful melodies few times were missing a note, or a note fell off the order. Which was sad since that Nocturne is one of the most beautiful nocturnes of Chopin. And yes, the pedals were not used as smoothly and as consistently as they should have.
Next was fantastic Prelude Op.45. Chopin himself said it was best prelude. I think the pianist did very good job in showing the elegant nature of this composition. Following with Ballade No. 4 in F minor, Op. 55 he brought peace to musical order. It is such a beautiful, poetic music. Khozainov fully regained his mastery of the instrument. I enjoyed it very much. It takes you for such a nice walk, memories of romance, of youth, of longing. Could be almost sentimental but still retains the deep feelings, the poetry of the soul. It remained me at times of the way incomparable Kristian Zimerman plays it. Use your inner feeling but stay close to the score seem to be the magic and don’t rush, allow the music to sink in.
After the Ballade, there was a short intermission and suddenly I felt like being back in Carnegie Hall or on Jasna Street in Warsaw’s Philharmonic. Back to great concerthalls of the world. Khozainov appeared in beautiful attire (with very shiny and elegant shoes, LOL) and things seemed all in place. Just waiting for the music to do the rest. It did.
Liszt and his delicate Impromptu Valse set the stage for musical fluidity, elegance. Following different feelings and pictures was Liszt Spanish Raphsody S.254. The Hungarian musical genius composed it in 1858, shortly after his visit to Spain. It has cascade of full octaves, rapid cords. A time to shine and awe, as Khozainov did. I wouldn’t have been surprised if suddenly a solo ballet dancer would appear and did some pirouettes to the music. It didn’t, but it felt like it could. That was certainly a grand finale to the first part.
During the short break I had a nice chat with a fellow, who sat right in front of me, and we exchanged few impressions. It was pleasant conversation to fill the free time (and not missing any equally pleasant innuendos, LOL). Music and romance? That never happens! Or was it just me, who forgot that it does indeed?
However – the time for truly great romance awaited us back in the hall. Ludwig van Beethoven – the towering giant of classical music.
Nikolay played masterly transcribed by Liszt Allegretto from Beethoven’s Seventh.
For a triumphant finale he played probably the most difficult and unusual piano music of the great composer – his Sonata No.23 Op. 57 known as Appassionata. I could easily see it more as a full Piano Concert with orchestra. It is long piece (it is a sonata after all, therefore not too long) but the difficulty lays in its structure, abrupt changes of tempo, emotion, almost loosing melodic motifs. In a way, the Appassionata should habe been composed fifty or seventy years later. It is very much not a mirror of tastes and styles in Herr Ludwig times. But Herr Ludwig was not a man of a’la mode – Beethoven was a man of musical genius. Timeless. I suppose, it must be very difficult and not easy to memorize it to play without the aid of printed score. Because the Appassionata has distinctive long intervals it is very wise for the pianist to remain in full control as some people would not start to clap, thinking it was the finale. Khozainov had it all in check.
I am not surprised that (although not part of this concert repertoire) that he has played and recorded the arch-difficult Gaspar de la nuit by Ravel.
Of course, every musician is prepared for a a short bis after a concert. Nikolay was too. However – none were prepared for almost an entire third part of the concert! It was a sheer bravado which ended in an amusing and happy cavalcade on the keyboard.
Scriabin, Chopin, Rachmaninov, you name it! All the virtuosic pieces that shine and wants the audience to stand up and dance to it. We almost did. Applause did not stop. Just when we thought it is over, done, when we thought that it is almost impolite to demand more … Nikolay played his own impromptu fantasy. And everyone went crazy. What a bravado, gusto with a touch of showmanship. A pure joy of the music. I loved it.
In a chat afterwards we used simultaneously three languages, as both of us knew them: Russian, Polish and English. And he signed my notebook with name I have not seen in a very long time – with ‘otchestvo’ – a Russian peculiarity of using one’s name and the name of one’s father. Because I have the same name , as my father – it is of course: Bogumil Bogumilowitz, LOL. I like it.
Last two days two nice and very different treks. By land and by water. Friday by land, twelve kilometers through amazing Fall colours of Mission Creek Park following the shoreline of meandering and fast-moving creek, and on Saturday a drive Oyama through the snow- and ice-covered mountain to Oyama Lake. The temperature was still too high for the lake to freeze, there was hardly any wind, and kayaking was a nice adventure.
My perfect companions in Okanagan of kayaking – my cousin Lula and her friend Mike – made it a happy outing. For a lunch we ‘invaded’ a large, secluded and totally wild island, without any traces of human visits, made a little bit of clearing on the shore, gathered some dead wood, big rocks from the shoreline to construct a fireplace and had a lunch that tasted better than dinner in Maxime in Paris.
They will most likely return there during summer, so we spent some time arranging the rocks in the water to make a perfect natural harbor for two kayaks. Just a sleeping bag and voila – your private island in wilderness under the ceiling of bright stars!
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