Alfredo 的个人资料In the way to Ithaka...照片日志列表更多  |  工具 帮助 |
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1月13日 SaharaOnly tell me that you still want me
here 2月24日 Belgrade Easter TripFianlly I going to visit your Baeatuful city I have a magic pen in my hands.. with which I write beautiful stories and amazing destiantions... Destiny put wonderful friends in my way 2月1日 IthakaITHAKAAs you set out for Ithaka K.Kavafis DesiresΕπιθγμιες Desires Σαν σώματα ωραία νεκρών που δεν εγέρασαν Like the beautiful bodies of those who dead, who never aged, και τάκλεισαν, με δάκρυα, σε μαυσωλείο λαμπρό, but who in stately mausoleums are tearfully enclosed, με ρόδα στο κεφάλι και στα πόδια γιασεμιά with roses at their head and jasmine at their feet, έτσ' οι επιθυμίες μοιάζουν που επέρασαν seem this desires taht pass away, χωρίς να εκπληρωθούν· χωρίς ν' αξιωθεί καμιά all unfulfilled, with never one found worthy of της ηδονής μια νύχτα, ή ένα πρωί της φεγγερό. the pleasure of a single night of a glowing morn. K.Kavafis 1月20日 Learnig languagesThe bed is the best place to learng a language. after wake up together are the best moments to learn like people when are borned hm :) That because children learn so fast That is the key I learnt spanish in the cradle... Where did you learn russian? I belive in the bed yes, when mother was singing to me when i was still inside.. 12月16日 Το κόκκινο φουστάνι (the red dress)Η νύχτα κατεβαίνει με μαύρο φερετζέ ] 2x The night come down with a black veil κι η πόλη διψασμένη για φώτα και σοξέ ] 2x and the city is thirsty of light and success Βάλε το κόκκινο φουστάνι Wear the red dress εκείνο που σε κάνει να μοιάζεις πυρκαγιά that one, which make you look as a fire Ελα και μη μετράς την ώρα come, and dont care about time τα νιάτα είναι δώρα youth is a treasure που καίνε σαν φωτιά ] 2x which burn as the fire τι να μας περιμένει αύριο το πρωί ] 2x Tomorrow morinig is waiting for us ποιος έρωτας πεθαίνει και ποιος θα γεννηθεί ] 2x which love die and which love born Βάλε το κόκκινο... Wear the red... Eleftheria Arvanitaki 12月6日 Barajas Airport...Again in the city of the dreams, that corner of Madrid, where lights
never are switched off. Where the people cry.. of sadness or gladness
when say good bye or welcome again to their dear being. Is the city
which link my local universe with the whole world. The city of the dreams, where just going through a door showing just a piece of paper, some dreams...come true(...) Inside every big city, there is another city another set where people come back to be human again, smiling and crying, relatives who say goof bye, couple kissing in the middle of strange glance... Inside, stare at people whose wear different clothes or speak a different languages. Bienbenido, Welcome, Bienvenue, Willkommen, καλωσόρισμα... People whose run, fly or just walk around the luxury shop windows...Perfume, alcohol tobacco and chocolate... Businessmen, families, groups of Japanese tourist, singles and couples...all of them life together in the same city. The real global city, the city of the dreams 12月4日 Nací en el Mediterraneo (I was born in the Mediterraneo)Quizá
porque mi niñez sigue jugando en tu playa Perhaps because my childhood continues playing in your beach Y escondido tras las cañas duerme mi primer amor And hidden after canes to sleep my first love LLevo tu luz y tu olor por donde quiera que vaya I bring your light and smell wherever I go Y amontonado en tu arena, guardo amor, juegos y penas, yo.. And piled in your sand, I keep
love, games and pain, I... Que en la piel tengo el sabor amargo del llanto eterno In my skin I have bitter taste of the eternal weeping Que han vertido en ti cien pueblos, de Algeciras a Estambul Which has been spilt on you one hundred people, from Algeciras to Istambul Para que pintes de azul, sus largas noches de invierno in order you paint on blue, its long nights of winter A fuerza de desventuras, tu alma es profunda y oscura By force of misfortune, your soul is deep and dark A tus atardeceres rojos To your red dusks Se acostumbraron mis ojos My eyes were accustomed Como el recodo al camino Like the bend to the way Soy cantor, soy embustero I am singer, I am a cheater Me gusta el juego y el vino I like the game and the wine Tengo alma de marinero I have sailor soul Y que le voy a hacer si yo... And what I am going to do if I… Nací en el Mediterraneo I was born in the Mediterranean Nací en el Mediterraneo I was born in the Mediterranean Y te acercas y te vas, después de besar mi aldea And you approach and go away, after kissing my village Jugando con la marea, te vas pensando en volver Playing with the tide, you leave thinking about to comeback Eres como una mujer, perfumadita de brea you are like a woman, perfumed of tar Que se añora y que se quiere, que se conoce y se teme, ay... who is longed for and wanted, who is known and afraid, ay… Si un día para mi mal viene a buscarme la parca if one day unfortunatly for me, the Parca comes looking for
me Empujará al mar mi barca, con un levante otoñal push my boat away into the sea, with the autumnal sunrise Y dejad que el temporal, desguace sus alas blancas and leave the storm, takes apart its white wings Y a mi enterradme sin duelo, entre la playa y el cielo bury me without duel, between
the beach and the sky En la ladera de un monte In the slope of a hill Más alto que el horizonte higher than the horizon Quiero tener buena vista I want a good view Mi cuerpo será camino My body will be path Le daré verde a los pinos I will give green to the pines Y amarillo a la jenista nd yellow to the jenista Cerca del mar porque yo.. Near the sea because I... Nací en el Mediterraneo I was born in the Mediterranean Nací en el Mediterraneo I was born in the Mediterranean Juan Manuel Serrat
12月3日 TimeLet me explain AngelsYou! Πάτρα (Patras)The first image, which come to my mind, when I hear or see, written down the word Πάτρα (Patras) is without doubt is Άγιος Νικόλαος. Some places have something, something special, magic, which seduce you from the first moment you find it. The same way in Thessaloniki is the White Tower, in Athens the Acropolis and the Central Market... in Patras are the stairs of Agios Nikolaos. I still can remember the first time we met. It was during the summer of 2006, in the BEST Summer Course. I was following three girls in a stupid competition, organized in order to know the city, suddenly I was on the top of the stairs. To come there and see such amazing sight, that corridor full of life: people, motorbikes, cars, trucks...and at the bottom the harbour. The gate, which Patras hide, which can take you to farther ports, to others worlds. As in a theatre Patras is a stage, a stage full of life a set of boats and ships which come and go. A real catwalk by where the real life parade, the real essence of the Patras. You can watch from the top of the hill buildings, a lot of buildings as a sea, a sea of windows with different colour and shape, aerials and terraces, terraces which from my point of view is the feature more characteristic of the modern Greek architecture. If in the ancient Greek time, were the columns and withe marble, nowadays are the terraces and the arcades; with flowers and plants over the grey background of the concrete. The morning I left Patras there was αγορά (market) at Αγία Σοφία (St. Sofia) quarter. As soon I open my mobile phone I got a sms from Marina, encouraging me to go there for a walk and see. So I did it. When I went down to the street, the doorman was complaining about to park the bike in the hall attache to the handrail of the stairs. Sorry don't worry, I tried to say with my poor Greek, tomorrow I will not be here. I took my bike and went out to the street, wearing my pirates trousers which let my legs uncover and able to feel the smooth breeze...to feel the breeze again, to feel how the sun flood my face...so much time I haven't got that feeling...after such long and cold winter in Germany. 7 months exactly, not too much but enough in order to to realize so much I miss , I need my Mediterranean weather To feel myself alive and don't miss my own essence... This last months in Munich, prisoner of the cold weather and the snow, prisoner of the routine and the Germany effectiveness, didn't allow myself to enjoy of such good moments of calm and peace which Greece have and give to the Greeks who know to profit. As soon I stayed on the streets and saw the people carrying out plastic bag full of food and goods, a homesick feeling invade me. As a dog which can smell, I started to track the exactly location of the market, behind of the block of concrete. Eventually I found it, a "carpet of heads" and awnings extended around the city. The market, αγορά, el mercadillo in Spanish... wherever it takes place looks the same: Pozuelo or Tetuan in Madrid, Conil in Cadiz, Patras...in every quarter every square of "my country" the people meet to exchange goods. Vegetables by money, kisses by waves, neighbours, relatives, couples, words, shouts...πορτοκάλι, τομάτα, patatas, sandalias, bragas, sujetadores...aprovecha niña que estan de oferta!, κυρία και κύρει... (oranges, tomatoes, potatoes, sandals, knickers, bras...take it baby it is on sale, sirs and madames...) Once again my head turn around trying to notice where I am, it is Spain, or it is Greece, it doesn't matter, is the same play, performance just another language. I tried to move, with my bike, through out this mass of people. I felt so comfortable around this people, that I would like to explore the whole market. To check out all the good are offered, unfortunately I am on hurry, markets as this one I have seen it many times. I had an appointment with someone really special, on the top of hill of the city, on her throne, Patras was waiting for me. I have dated in order to paint her, and I could not be late. I went through out the city by one of his main highway, together with another vehicles, motorbike above, the typical old and noisy motorbikes, in which the Greek take his girl around the city... Crossing the streets I rode up to the hill of the castle, in the way I made an stop to put out my Jersey, it was very hot. It was just spring but even them you could smell the summer time. I also stop to take a photo of a real old smithy, as just a few are left in Spain nowadays. I kept on going up to the hill, through his old and nice houses with big doors and small windows, really authentic as the house of La Havana in Cuba. Eventually I reached the top of the hill, I was sweating a bit, the chilly breeze refresh me and calm my body. I attached my bike meanwhile I was sawing the stairs and the view of Patras with the port at the horizon. I looked for a good place to sit down and do my the best to paint the image of this city which fascinate me every time I see her. Meanwhile I was working Remebetiko and Bouzuki were played at the near Taverna, the scene was perfect! there is not better atmosphere to sit down and paint the beauty of Patras. I finished my work while some people go up and down by the stairs looking at me and wondering what a stranger was doing in such place. What the locals from Patras don't know, is that the the beauty of Patras just can be reached from there. 20-04-2006 |
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