September, Etc.

Well, as anyone living in central europe already knows, the weather has taken a dramatic nosedive as of late. It started last saturday with rain, and then was joined by wind and a chill to the air that i would compare to winter. And it has lasted a week already...it's good weather to curl up with a book and a mug of tea, but there is plenty of time for that. Please, not in september! Not in SEPTEMBER! Word on the street is that an indian summer is on the way, or, Baba Leto. Until it passes, I've been jamming out to a bluegrass tune that I think is ever so timely, titled "dreadful wind and rain."
In addition to the weather, the past few weeks have been a bit tough. As any expat would tell you, there are times when everything is so new and exciting and different, and there are times when you want to say to hell with it all, to hell with everything new and and different - please. give me bland and predictable. Eh. I'm having some trouble getting my work permit, and in addition to a few other issues, it almost came down to throwing in the towel last week out of sheer frustration. It's frustrating that even after a year, anything dealing with either a)bureaucracy or b)finding a new apartment is still strewn with difficulties. strewn!
It hasn't all been bad though, I made it down to Zagreb, Croatia last weekend to see Martina for the first time since July.

On the drive down, I had to pee. A slovak was driving the car, so I was given the option of peeing in the woods (have i mentioned this attribute of slovak life? peeing in the woods? i must have by now). So, i went to go pee in the woods, when my hand, and thank god ONLY my hand, brushed up against a prickly plant that which immediately caused small red welts to pop up (painfully) on the back of my hand:



i don't know what this plant is called, but i have renamed it "Satan's Painful Hellplant of Fury." A number of slovaks have told me that to get pricked by this plant will (somehow) help either prevent or treat arthritis. I haven't gotten a straight answer on which yet, but i like to think that when i DO touch SPHPOF (you know what that stands for), then i am either preventing or treating my (future) arthritis. At least i think they said arthritis.

While in Zagreb, we went out to a nearby village to visit some bees. On the way, we saw these guys:


awesome. This was the first time in the past two weeks that i saw, this...i don't know what it is...wagon? But i guess it is actually standard harvesting equipment, as i have seen about twenty of them in Jur this week.
As i just foreshawed, the time has come upon us, in south-west slovakia, to harvest grapes. I helped out yesterday, despite the dreadful wind and rain.
SO, here. See. See the oberačka:







and then next up, of course, is the squashing of the grapes (official term) to make the wine.


More Weather Report As Given By A Southerner (who hasn't actually lived in the south for a few years):
.....the weather has really been terrible, but i have a firm belief that the good weather will come back before melting into winter. Last year, i busted out my winter coat in october, and thought that was absurdly early. I wore that coat i think three times this week. sigh. now i suppose i ought to just call it a fall coat.
However, whereas in Boston I would progress from THAT winter coat to a Major Winter Coat, last year i had no need of the Major Winter Coat. Point of the story? It gets cold earlier, but not THAT-BAD cold.
Today the sun broke through, and during certain cloud-intervals, it was WARM! hooray!
signing off,
SA

not exactly summer in the city

~~~~SP~~~~~

8.30.08

We drove past the communist skyscraping suburbs
and the crumbing hospital complexes
and parked the car up a rocky dirt road
for a bbq by a garden house,
surrounded by blackberries and sunflowers

i donned shades for the hot august afternoon
and ate rye bread, peppers, sausages.
Glasses tipped wine into the grass
and the dog ate chips from the bowl.

I spoke in slovak, and sometimes I was bored
as the heated afternoon melted into the chilly august night.
jargush held court over the turntables
and we danced the cold away, barefoot
under the pale august stars

so i want to remember:
slices of hazelnut cake
a silk bag of hashish
a plaid blanket on a garden swing
and a twisting ride home through the black mountains;

i slept on the speaker in the back seat
with a fuzzy head and my sweatshirt still on.
The smell of sun-warmed paprika,
the pervasiveness of charcoal smoke,
and a head filled with words i can't translate.