Collecting Moments

A PRESENT FROM ISTANBUL Yesterday we spent a beautiful day on the green island of Burgaz, half an hour by ferry from Istanbul. I meditated on the sea and walked along the rocky coast. As usual, my souvenir from that trip was an abandoned historical building I found somewhere in the middle of the island. I marveled at its decaying beauty and at the lack of interest from tourists passing by. On the way back I was feeding seagulls from the boat. As my friend put it “Now you are really Turkish!”. When we returned home it turned out that the same day and night in Istanbul the police had dispersed Pride Parade on Taksim square with teargas, water cannons and rubber bullets. Today I met a girl who was there. She was dancing in the street when the crowd suddenly started running towards the metro station. She couldn’t get into the train because it was full and stayed alone on the platform. And the police were firing pepper spray inside the station… She survived and didn’t even get to the hosp

My friend told me the other day that when her sister was dying she cried and said "I never got to be me. I never got to be me". And I immediately remembered what I heard from another woman in completely different circumstances also somewhere in Ireland... GO HOME Go home and tell your husband Go home and tell your kids Go home and drop your burdens on the floor in a pile of the laundry Tell them who you are, who you were, who you could be... (© Tina Pisco) The more I stay in Ireland the more I realize how damn lucky I am to allow myself to be me. And that's why it's time to move on now...

The day started with a hitchhiking trip from Clara to Roscommon. Two lifts, 70 kms, one hour... I got out of the car on the main town square and immediately someone greeted me. Are you the guy from the “Melting pot” pub? - I asked. - Yes. - Do you know Sean? Sean O'Neill? - I do, yes. Where are you coming from? - I just came from Clara hitchhiking. I'm Katya. - Oh, hello Katya. Sean told me a lot about you. Feels like a real melting pot... And I've only been here for a month! Gerry Jago - сгусток ураганной положительной энергии, смеха, счастья. Живет настоящим, и каждый момент с ним живой и настоящий. Такой ирландский буддист :)

Hitchhiking from Clara to Clonmacnoise Today the three of us, an English man, a Chinese girl and a Russian immigrant from Israel, hitched along a dead empty country road from Clara to Clonmacnoise. I honestly thought we'd never move from that spot. But... after fifteen minutes a car stopped. It was an old lady who said she didn't like to drive people but we seemed to be too nice to be left stranded. She was going only ten kilometres down the road to see her daughter, a hair-dresser and a wife of a local detective. When we actually arrived at her daughter's house, a young lady greeted us and offered us a lift all the way to Clonmacnoise. So we just got out of her mother's car and got into hers. Clonmacnoise, an ancient monastic site and a cemetery, turned out to be a horrible place with a new tourist bus arriving every thirty minutes and an entrance fee of seven euros. But since I'd already spent one month in Ireland hiking mostly on private farm lands, it was just

Ирландская пустыня изумрудно-серая. Дно древнего моря - трещины, промоины, впадины. Белая лошадь. Поющий ветер. Как в кадре Тарковского...

No matter where you go in this country, that’s what you see - forty shades of green…

Hitchhiked in the Ring of Kerry with a German girl that I met yesterday on the bus, - 150 km, 9 lifts, 10 hours. One of our drivers was a tree surgeon...

Today I visited a tiny island in Bantry bay. There are only twenty people living on it at the moment. A peaceful, green little spot surrounded by the sea. They speak some kind of dialect here which I'd call "whiddish" and everybody is just "alright" (apart from this word, which is added to the end of every sentence, I couldn't understand anything :) A local lady told me that there used to be seven hundred people on Whiddy island at some point. I managed to get into an old teacher’s house with a beautiful view of the lake, and an abandoned school which was built in the end of the XIX century.

The shadows of the past... Walked all the way from Clonakilty to Timoleague to see the XIIIth century abbey.

The magic of sounds and words, music and poetry, tunes and feelings... Couchsurfing with Anja, a harp player, a solo walker, a crazy powerful woman.

Mount Talbot House Went for an innocent walk to see just another ruined castle in the middle of the fields. Ended up crawling under electric fences, jumping over the stone walls and crossing old blocked bridges. Got into a farm where an abandoned church building was turned into a cattle shed.

I'm couchsurfing with Simon, anarchist and hippy, who made an overland trip to India in 1975, and his lovely dog Paddy in a 200 y.o. cottage. Walking down the river in the morning and around the bog in the afternoon... “In this part of the country we have turf and rain. That's all we have!”

From Clara to Black Head (Burren) and back - 300 kilometers, eleven lifts.. Hitchhiked for the first time with my couchsurfing host who used to live in squats and hitch all around the world. Irish farmer: I don't like to look after sick people but I love my cows. I talk to them and I like to look after them. You know what is the smell of summer? It's when you open hey in January... French tourist couple: So, you travel without vehicle? Why you don't hire a car? Simon: Because I live here. Romanian taxi driver: Where are you going? To Dublin? - No, we are going to Clara, it's near Athlone. - But on your sign it's written Dublin. - Yes, because it's the same direction. - But people should know where you go. I'll take you to Dublin for free. - Listen, I know exactly where I live. I've been here for seven years. - Are you sure? But your sign is Dublin. We were very happy that he let us out of his car in Athlone :) We: We've just h

Hitchhiking from Clara to the Rock of Dunamase Hitched with my Chinese friend from Clara to the Rock of Dunamase and back – 100 km, four lifts. The first lift we got was with an Irish car mechanic and he told us “If it was one girl on her own I wouldn't take her but two are ok.” Hitchhiking is always full of surprises :) Dunamase castle (XII century) ******************************** When we got into that abandoned cottage through an open back window it felt as if the owner could return any minute. Everything was in its place – books, bed covers, plates, toys. People left all their stuff behind, locked the front door and walked away. It wasn't comfortable to wander around those dusty rooms so we very quickly headed back to the window and jumped out. Simon was lying on the grass outside. He smiled at us, winked and said “Now I need your help”. It seemed like we were lined up for something half-legal again. He pointed at the police station and whispered “The chairs”. They were pi

Inchmore House in Clara (1860) Robert Goodbody founded a milling dynasty at Clara in 1820. During the later 1800s, six mills operated in Clara, of which the Goodbodys owned five. In 1853 a weaving factory was erected for the production of flour bags. In 1855 the family purchased the massive Erry Mill in the center of the village. In 1865, a jute factory was established by Jonathan and Lewis Goodbody. It is one of the few of this type in Ireland. ( IHAI ) The family also owned three impressive mansions in Clara. One of them was Inchmore House, now completely deserted and partially ruined, but it still has character...