For a born and bred Mountain Girl...

... I have learned to love open skies and rivers as I travel through life. I am on this beautiful beach because it was fate .... (and human kindness)

I am peace with so much sky and sea.


... and so it is in Denmark ...

North Denmark coast provides the space and a feeling of expansion ... forever..... In fact this trip was about space - and movement - lots of it. I left Mostar early in the morning by bus, and ended up in Copenhagen at midnight after a stopover in London. A brief overnight (4 hrs) found me hurling myself through airports to get to Aalborg by 7:30 am the next morning. I spent the next 4 days attending research seminars. On the last day, Ellen Bonde brilliantly suggested a picnic on the north coast. We both chilled out on this magnificent beach that meets the north sea and looks beyond to England, Scotland and Norway.



Everywhere in the world, the sun rises in the east and falls in the west.


Everywhere in the world, rivers find their way to the oceans.


and people are just people ! ... laughing, loving, drinking.... here - we are pretty much doing all of the above at the Bonde's house party after the seminars are over.



Back in Copenhagen with Helle Ziba, aka Tango Girl. We spend much time talking.... we are in her home in Copenhagen telling many stories... and here she is telling me a story with her left hand, but I cant remember who she was talking about!

... goodbyes are simply opportunities for saying hello another time... SO much life ... helle girl.

Then it was back to London.
While in London I met John MacAusland, a kind and generous man who taught me the true meaning of philanthropy. I briefly saw my niece Monica and her husband Sunil and jumped on a train (the one after the one that was cancelled) for a quick trip to Dorset to catch up with Nigel Osborne's latest incarnation of his Sevda Opera. There are some very nice memories of the cast, musicians from the Mostar Symphonette and of Dorset itself. - I have the dubious reputation of being a Mostar Symphonette chaser/groupee/mascot - having turned up in Utrecht, Zenica, Sarajevo - and now Dorset, UK to see them and their guest musicians perform. Guests such as Mirima - an inspired accordianist - are well worth the travel. But there are other rewards too. I also enjoyed the warm hospitality of Tina, the Director of Opera Circus and her husband Robert, a film-maker in their country home in Dorset.

Another dodgy train ride (it broke down), a frantic taxi ride and another looooong flight and I am on my way home!
and here are the beloved canadian rockies. One more hour....


Finally, I am in my own back yard. One arm of the Fraser River runs past my home .... ....


and a short walk from my place brings me to a river trail.... which is flooded and impassable at the moment... but some leaves are still clinging to the branches - gradually abandoning their hold on the season, I brought some back with me carefully wrapped by Jeremy.


and this is taken from the my former stomping grounds, Granville Island. Vancouver in its everyday neatness. Of course, what is a trip home without visiting friends, sharing stories and telling lies.... Phil and Lei came to Mostar in the summer of 2005 so there are some shared memories... which no one else 'got' of course; like the 'glass of water story' .... well, I guess you just had to be here!



Yes, people are people everywhere, doing the same things... was this Leilani consficating the booze? No - happily delivering.

meeting old acquaintances - and each thinking the other one is fit to drive - yeah, right.

And it is an amazing gift to have family and friends who just drop everything to see you off again..... au revoir et a bientot.

It is inky black at 2:00 am on the Balkan backroads and we are following the insane driving of the red van ahead of us. In BiH insanity is a prerequisite for a drivers licence. My body is numb after 10 hours of work and 4 hours of being on the road, but I am alert - knowing that I have to take my turn at driving soon. We are heading for Fazana, a small, sleepy fishing village on the northern adriatid coast. Much later ... we pulled into the driveway at 5:30 am. The sun was rising, and one or two of the 10 sleeping bodies strewn about the house stirred in greeting. Nigel Osborne looking tired but fresh, appeared out in the damp dewy morning to welcome us to this amazing home that emerged from left over Roman ruins... ruins that would form the theatre stage for the Sevdah Opera we would see later that day.

So what is a Fazana summer music camp? ....

... It's being tired all the time. Andrew is the youngest (by about 100 years) and slept most of the trip... but he hasnt been Balkanized yet. After 6 days in Mostar, we kidnapped him to this strange place with strange... very strange people ... Still - he survived, as did we all.

.

.. It's being tired but happy ... After a confusing but warm and friendly breakfast, we watched the Opera Circus rehearse Nigel Osborne's 3 day opera. That is to say - composed and rehearsed in the 3 days prior to our arrival. Here Larisa and Marisa revive themselves in the garden while waiting for the final performance. It rained so a stage was improvised inside the house.

. It's the music. Oh my - its the sweet music of real musicians who know how to tune themselves together. After the performance and delivered lunch, the musicians needed to play some more! Here is Nigel, Aiden, Tony, Goran and conductor of the opera just enjoying themselves. Great food, amazing music and ... maybe a patch of grass to lie down and snooze a bit..

... It's the dance ... and what a dance. Lenka, our hostess, knows how to live - here with Andy. A talented, warm and gracious lady, she made us all feel at home in her summer "cottage" - the next day I would be an early morning guest in her other home on Brjuni (island) after dancing all night andcatching the 7:30 am ferry to go to work in Pula.

... It's the work we do ... what really matters after all. We had music workshops with children with special needs in Pula for 3 days before the Mostar children arrived. Here Lori from Opera Circus helps out with the music workshops and finds new connections in the music ..... caption

... It's the cat, the dog, a mouse and some cheese ... a "physical" music drama created by one of the childrens groups in Pula with the help of Andy from Opera Circus and musicians from Mostar.

.. It's the joy within us .... and a happy ending. I think the cat and dog ended up friends and maybe the mouse got the cheese, but it all made Andy very happy!

...It's perseverance. Shiri, a young composer, found her own music at all times and in all places

.. It's the beach.  And the north adriatic offers the best ambience. Here in Fazana it is like an unspoiled Italy (i am told) The children and volunteers all had plenty of down time on the beach.

Olive tree on Brijuni reported to be 1000 years old.

... It's being younger than at least one other living thing. Nothing can replace life experience we 'elders' like to say. But occasonally, we covet the vibrance of youth. So there are two of us who definitely feel youthful next to this tree.

...It's being with great people .... Opera Circus people from the UK. Berty, Lori, Tina, me, Gay (journalist) and Darin (and Andy who left) These wonderful people donated quality time to the special needs children of Pula and Mostar - . We will see them in Sarajevo next year sometime when they bring the opera "home".





...  NO - It's the money!  Meet "Clyde" aka Nigel Osborne who financed this amazing camp - After a bureaucratic glich in the system that required some creative problem solving and a few banks with "Bonny" - an undisclosed female accomplice - the money arrived in time to save the camp from a premptive ending. And the rest of the story continued ...

Nigel Osborne - very happy to pay the summer camp landlords who threatened to evict us. 

'I wish I had a river – so long – I would teach my feet to fly…'

Joni Mitchell

Mostarians often ask what I like about Mostar. I think they desire to know if we foreigners have discovered the enigma of their town - the sweet mystery of this amazing place. I have come to know it better over the past year and still have trouble identifying what holds me here. I do not know this enigma by name. But neither do they.

It is so many things. There is a vibrancy here that I have not found anywhere else. It demands your attention – that you stay awake and the reward is that you ‘live’ – you feel more alive than perhaps any other time in your life.

I sit on a rock that tantalizes the beautiful, willful Naretva as I write this – realizing that last night- and perhaps again in a few hours – the rock I sit on may be submerged under tons of raging water, heading relentlessly for the Adriatic Sea. But for now it provides a resting place while the lazy river seduces the children and young people to jump into its frigid water to cool off from 40 degree heat. The emerald current takes them easily across to the other bank and they play in & out of the stream like the sleek, skillful otters from the rivers of my home land. Like children everywhere, they show no fear for what they know …only joy. Maybe I notice these children because they are different. They are not whining, crying or being stubborn. It is though their innocence has been preserved. I hear adults calling out to them – encouraging them to take risks. I see a concerned young man reaching out to help one child up a dangerous bank. Tomorrow the river may not allow such activities, - but for now there is unconditional joy.

My love affair with this place may also be attached to the lack of “protective” barriers. There are no fences to block our access to dangerous river banks, or public areas. Perhaps, a war puts such extreme events into the community that protecting people from hurting themselves, or from vandalizing property is simply absurd. It also leaves us to deal with our own stupidity. Ironically, some value systems have prevailed & survived beyond the brutal civilian war because I have seen little evidence of vandalism. But how can vandalism compete with the leftovers of war – the ultimate vandalism of hulking blown up building carcasses all over the city?

On this hot day – with one foot dangling in the cold Naretva and a cooling breeze ruffling through the cloth of my blouse, I fit in with the scene - people seeking relief from the burning sun. Between writing in my journal, I follow the sounds around me and my gaze falls on Novi stari Most – the beautifully reconstructed Turkish bridge from 1566. Only this time it is built by the European international community from 2002-2004, 10 years after it was destroyed. Just as the young men have done for centuries, there is a jumper waiting to be offered money from the cue of curious onlookers before he plunges 70 ft to the river. Across the river to my right there is a sheer cliff of about 50 feet where would-be jumpers are practicing or resting in the shade of an overhang.

I am hungry so I eat some fresh apricots that I bought at the market this morning – there are no pesticides, growth hormones or genetically altered produce in BiH. The fruits are honest – sometimes look puny or misshapen; not the perfect forms and colours I am used to. Maybe this imperfection appeals to me.  Or maybe its the experience of being in a place where there is no comfortable veneer.

As I sit feeling the cold bite of the Naretva around my ankles, I can honestly say I feel more myself here than anywhere else…and it may have more to do with the people. It is impossible to describe a group, a culture succinctly and accurately, but the individuals I have met have taught me many things. First is about self sacrifice. Many have no hope for an economically bright future in Mostar, and yet they have put their own future on the shelf to live with and care for parents who have no income – no pension – and no other way of support. 

It is the aliveness I feel – even when I am alone – that is addictive. It is rare to find individuals who are fully conscious – but many people here are. Perhaps it is the war that instilled mental vigilance – or maybe they are born with it, but you cannot live here without noticing your own connection to consciousness – yours and the BIG consciousness. And in a place where the intimacy of silence is usually avoided, this is a mysterious paradox. Mostar is a Paradox… a beautiful mystery; and living here does not reveal the secret of that mystery.
I have learned that I have a lot to learn about myself that I could not (or would not) learn at home. I also learned that: I have a lot to offer here – it is a place that I can be useful; everything I have done in my life is working here. But I know at some point I must move on and provoke myself again.

So my work is rewarding, and the biggest reason for staying here is to see the project survive. There is an amazing amount of creative potential where there has been a war and the Music Therapy clinic at the Pavarotti Music Centre is unique in the world. At the moment it is poised on the brink of enormous potential, or closure…an awesome responsibility. I am more involved with managing the strategic direction of the clinic than in working with the children, but I have 13 clients. In Mostar there are no social systems or programs in place – the clinic is pretty much all there is for children and youth with special needs. I am inspired by what music therapy is doing, am touched by the local directors who ‘sing our praises’ -- and am convinced we are making a difference here.




Yes, the Naretva helps me to reflect the good fortune that brought me here. I have walked in the magical beauty of ancient kingdoms that were here before the Turks or the Ottomans. 

I love the accessibility of unexploited history. In fact, nothing is exploited in Bosnia /Hercegovina, and I feel the innocence of this place defines it more than any flag could. But the average citizen here has not had the privilege of seeing their land as I have. If they did, I think they would understand their soul connection – perhaps – is to their environment. IT is where their true identity springs from – not their ethnic differences.

And the last best thing about being here is ….the wine! Its great – and cheap!! It is not an enigma, but bless it, anyway. And bless the river … it gives me wings so that I can fly away….

First published Sept. 25, 2004.