Given the fact that I have typed most of my journal when I was in Macedonia, the style is very different from what I've written. The only two pieces that I've actually written by hand have some different tenor. So I decided to put those two in one blog, as they kind of belong together... (don't pay attention to the sentimental shadow it casts)
Look right through me, and wait until darkness lightens. Wait forever and never wonder why we are here. Sunset, or is it sunrise? will they call me crazy if I said it was morning, probably yes. The purple orange mixture of light casting shadows on the clouds. Freshly fallen snow, only a couple of centimetres it looks. If I didn´t hear the engines of the plane roar at the background, my music not loud enough to mask it, I wouldn’t have a clue we are way up in the sky. Songs go by and only the first seconds of every track seem to reach my conscious mind. Around me are people, yet unknown. Whether they will remain unknown I do not yet know. Could be that they will join us in touring, could be that they are going home, who’ll say? With every beat, every rhythm, every word, I enlarge the distance between us, or do I shorten it? Here in this plane above the lands it’s difficult to say, and my destination remains unclear. In all possible hope and trust I see to it that I’ll get where I want to go, but it is not mine to decide.
Waiting seems to feel endless, infinite. My music alone isn’t enough to keep me distracted from what is in front of me. After nearly nine days I will have to say goodbye in just a few hours. The land that was unknown, but now feels so familiar. Before I got here, I had forgotten the country as soon as I left my primary school. I vaguely remembered the name Skopje, and I knew former Yugoslavia. But Macedonia, never heard of it. The language with its Cyrillic alphabet seemed impossible to know and I feared the sun, as I would have to get used to the cold again once back in Holland. Now, I can look back on a long week, in which I learned. I saw, I travelled, I danced, I sang, but I mostly learned. People don’t have to be individualistic, don’t have to put their selves in front of the rest to be happy. Life comes and goes, and your reason here is to enjoy. The early mornings I had to get used to, the activities my body begged not to do. My mind overruling the urge to stop every single minute. I don’t know why I did it. I could have listened and stopped when I had to. But that’s one of the things I’ll never learn. The evenings with people who I can call my friends, or at least for this small time. How complete strangers can become the reason to smile, even if you’re not feeling like it. The paces I saw, the one possibly more beautiful than the other. Like most places when I’m abroad, I felt at home. Strange how every second, I dread going back, not because I have to start my regular life again, not because of school or my work, but purely the country. The characteristics of my own country, will never feel as familiar as these. The language, which still seems impossible to learn, now softened with a veil of almost dark purple satin. Pleasant to the ears, but mysterious and smooth like it’s from a distant past I once knew but forgot. The music, that I started to love. No different than any other national music, Macedonian songs have their own identity, and its secrets are revealed not by the rhythm, nor by the words. It’s the dance that shows the song. Gentle, uncomplicated, yet inspiring and open to improvisation. The attitude of dancing is obvious to the eye of a musician, but can only be experienced through time. Once I’ll come back and learn it. Not to see, not to feel, only to live it. What nine days of holiday can give me, I don’t know, probably not much. What a country can give me in just nine days, it’s infinite. In its very meaning, this trip has been a revival. All the nature that I’ve seen, was a hope for peace, all the places a sign for life. All the music, a reminder of forgetting. Forgetting all bad things in order to let the good in, if only for a few moments. All the people, a promise of happiness and hospitality. It was good, and thanks to all, that I could be here.
Look right through me, and wait until darkness lightens. Wait forever and never wonder why we are here. Sunset, or is it sunrise? will they call me crazy if I said it was morning, probably yes. The purple orange mixture of light casting shadows on the clouds. Freshly fallen snow, only a couple of centimetres it looks. If I didn´t hear the engines of the plane roar at the background, my music not loud enough to mask it, I wouldn’t have a clue we are way up in the sky. Songs go by and only the first seconds of every track seem to reach my conscious mind. Around me are people, yet unknown. Whether they will remain unknown I do not yet know. Could be that they will join us in touring, could be that they are going home, who’ll say? With every beat, every rhythm, every word, I enlarge the distance between us, or do I shorten it? Here in this plane above the lands it’s difficult to say, and my destination remains unclear. In all possible hope and trust I see to it that I’ll get where I want to go, but it is not mine to decide.
Waiting seems to feel endless, infinite. My music alone isn’t enough to keep me distracted from what is in front of me. After nearly nine days I will have to say goodbye in just a few hours. The land that was unknown, but now feels so familiar. Before I got here, I had forgotten the country as soon as I left my primary school. I vaguely remembered the name Skopje, and I knew former Yugoslavia. But Macedonia, never heard of it. The language with its Cyrillic alphabet seemed impossible to know and I feared the sun, as I would have to get used to the cold again once back in Holland. Now, I can look back on a long week, in which I learned. I saw, I travelled, I danced, I sang, but I mostly learned. People don’t have to be individualistic, don’t have to put their selves in front of the rest to be happy. Life comes and goes, and your reason here is to enjoy. The early mornings I had to get used to, the activities my body begged not to do. My mind overruling the urge to stop every single minute. I don’t know why I did it. I could have listened and stopped when I had to. But that’s one of the things I’ll never learn. The evenings with people who I can call my friends, or at least for this small time. How complete strangers can become the reason to smile, even if you’re not feeling like it. The paces I saw, the one possibly more beautiful than the other. Like most places when I’m abroad, I felt at home. Strange how every second, I dread going back, not because I have to start my regular life again, not because of school or my work, but purely the country. The characteristics of my own country, will never feel as familiar as these. The language, which still seems impossible to learn, now softened with a veil of almost dark purple satin. Pleasant to the ears, but mysterious and smooth like it’s from a distant past I once knew but forgot. The music, that I started to love. No different than any other national music, Macedonian songs have their own identity, and its secrets are revealed not by the rhythm, nor by the words. It’s the dance that shows the song. Gentle, uncomplicated, yet inspiring and open to improvisation. The attitude of dancing is obvious to the eye of a musician, but can only be experienced through time. Once I’ll come back and learn it. Not to see, not to feel, only to live it. What nine days of holiday can give me, I don’t know, probably not much. What a country can give me in just nine days, it’s infinite. In its very meaning, this trip has been a revival. All the nature that I’ve seen, was a hope for peace, all the places a sign for life. All the music, a reminder of forgetting. Forgetting all bad things in order to let the good in, if only for a few moments. All the people, a promise of happiness and hospitality. It was good, and thanks to all, that I could be here.
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