All aboard the magic Theaker bus

How lucky are we?  Here we are on the other side of the world and along comes Theaker, our Amazonianly gorgeous high-flying aerialist friend, complete with her Slovenian magic bus to take us to places we would never have made it to alone.

Who drives the magic bus?  Theaker drives the magic bus

Who flies the magic trapeze?  Theaker flies and turns the world on its head

I lied, that's Livija & Theaker on the left

Theaker took us to Cerkno, an enchanted mountain village which is North-East-ish in Slovenia where she was doing a show for the Festival Ala.  That gave us the gift of meeting the organiser, Livija, who became our personal guide and new friend. Of course, I don't have a picture of her; this seems to be the case with many people we've really had fun with (Gabi, Roger, Peter, Michael, Libby, Gra, Bea, Gina are also on this list...)

What a treat to spend time with someone who could show us around and tell us all about it.  I know more about Cerkno than most other places we've been to.  From the profound - a 55,000 year old bone flute (the oldest instrument in the world) was found here - to the profane - you can buy g-string knickers in a vending machine at the pub... Why?  Excellent question.

Knicker machine

But we weren't only obsessed with one-size-fits-all-knickers-in-a-ball for 2 euros each... masks were also a source of great fascination and the local museum (in tandem with Livija) was great.

The masks and costumes belong to the Laufarji - a company of 'runners' who originate from way back when (Pagan times) to mark the end of winter.  The carnival was sadly lost around the time of World War I* but some clever folk revived it in 1956 and it's been going strong ever since. 

*This area suffered terribly throughout both World Wars, but also hosted a strong partisan element and even a cleverly hidden hospital

This first picture shows the character of Pust, who is the scapegoat for everything (natural or otherwise) that has gone wrong over the past 12 months.  Much of what happens in the carnival involves him, particularly his indictment for all the wrong-doing (which comes across as quite humorous) and symbolic execution.  After he is put to death there is both a dance of celebration and a mourning.  The costume is made from moss.  If it rains, it can weigh up to 100kg. Even when dry it weighs as much as 80kg.  That's dedication, hey?
 

Other Laufarji characters represent 'typical' members of society - some are traditional, and others modern.  Below you see the old lady who sweeps away winter and Pust's brother, the pine man.  There are drunks and a neanderthal character too. Well, you can see for yourself on this video
 

The costumes creep Ayesha out (rather Doctor Who villain-esque, they are) but I'm rapt in the whole idea - the reminder that in Australia we so lack the vividness of changes in the season.  Even more than that, we lack in relevant symbolism.  All our inherited 'festivals' are topsy-turvy, out-of-touch with nature and what's really happening.  I'd love to go back to Cerkno for this...

We hit the road, and what roads!  Masterful driving of the beast by Theaker takes us through great scenery...

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..and to the UNESCO listed Scocjan Caves. Down we went, but couldn't take photos in the depths of it.  Such depths!  Such ancient, ancient evidence of time before us.  So much more than us!  We tried to calculate the age of the 'Giant' stalagmite... about 15 metres tall, growing at 1 to 1.5cm per hundred years.  Go on, work it out and be humbled.  

More Doctor Who sensations ensued in the vast canyons below ground... check the photo in this link if you care to.  Dragons.  Gollums.  All were surely there, or had been.
 

delerious explorers

cool explorers

And then we crossed the border to Croatia...

Yay! Celebrating border crossing in back of Theaker's bus

Kath's Reflections on Family & Framily

A wordy entry written 1^st July 2012

A cold and wet Welsh summer's day... a view of the headlands, the cliffs, wild seas, white water smashing against black rock, hovering and circling sea birds crying out hauntingly, foxgloves and grasses in various hues of green and gold bent in the wind that whistles and howls... a hot cup of tea, Howie napping under a doona on the couch, Ayesha with her nose in her Kindle, washing tumbling in the dryer. We are in the barely pronounceable Pwll Deri YHA, perched alone on a coastal hill top in Pembrokeshire. What a place to stop, to breathe, to collect our thoughts, to domesticate with some washing & cooking.

I'm thinking of the people we've seen so far on our way, of connections and re-connections with people we love- our family and our framily (friends who become like family – phrase courtesy of Libby, my framilial sister-woman).

There's Ali, my aunt... not so much older than me that we can be called a generation apart, yet our experiences growing up seem so different that I learn from her that our Australian and English childhoods were truly worlds apart. She helps me tease out stories from my Grandma. That's my Nanny, Irene, who at 93 years old never ceases to amaze. I've learnt much of her life from her but wish I had days and weeks more to hear her stories, and piece them together and understand the way the people, places and times fit, or not! She's experienced, endured and survived incredible things and changes. A childhood bout of pleurisy left her deeply scarred and the treatment seems so barbaric to us now. She hid under a cake oven with a cat while pregnant with my Dad during bombing raids on London in 1940. Then there are the myriad of jobs she took, people she knew, places she lived. Listening to her brings the past to life, but she's living now. Just imagine outliving so many people you know and love...

Gabi, Roger, Michael and Peter welcomed us with the embraces and cheer and warmth that I've always known from them from the moment we first met. Living so far from extended family gives you the awkwardness of meeting people you 'know' but have never seen. This mob have never felt like strangers to me. We eat, drink, chat, laugh. Ayesha & Peter dance. We forget to take photos … maybe it's a sign of being so completely in the moment with them. The moments are too few and too short. I want to bring them home with me. If only... Maybe Lapland one day.

We visit my dear old friend, T, in beautiful Dorset countryside. It's joyful to just grab some food, throw it together and get down deep to talking about what matters – painful, political, psychological, philosophical. T has always kept me on my toes and her great expectations push me to want myself to do more with her percipience, persistence, resilience, bolshiness (yep- I swallowed a dictionary... well, she makes me want to be impressive!)  And I want her to see it all in herself – she is so much more than she believes.

And we visit our beloved Lib, Gra & Bee who give us health for body, soul & spirit with good food, gorgeous surrounds, fun game playing and inspirational ideas – always! We're building a pictionary card list, folks, and will work on the artwork soon. Aya's happy to find she & Bee still have much in common – vegetablists/arians, animal advocates, netballers and Whovians both.