Praew

It is deep night in Skopje, the capital of Macedonia, where we spend the night. This experience was so vivid that I will write a few lines. The main target of the trip this time was the Ostrog Monastery and second, the balloon fiesta, which incidentally starts tomorrow. The story of the Ostrog monastery can never be explained or shown to anyone with pictures, because this story is different. The heart is filled with white light. It is difficult to describe in words the charge of energy I get from journeys of the heart. Every time I travel, there are an infinite number of images that appear before my eyes and do not fade from memory but the feelings stand out above everything else. The road to the Ostrog monastery and back: We left at 5:00 am to be on time for the morning liturgy, which starts at 6:00. We will have to drive a bit on a serpentine road, around six kilometers. I was advised not to drive myself, at the very least to be doubly careful, and to allow extra time. Leaving the hotel, rain is pouring. The fog is so thick, that it is impossible to see anything. Relying on our feelings, we find the door handles of the car and try to feel the roadway in the same way. The visibility is less than a meter, or rather, the visibility is as far as the light of the heart and the wish to get to the destination can shine. We are starting our way up the mountain on the switchbacks. I am driving very slowly. Having traveled 7 km in an hour, we realize that we are lost, and from time to time we lose our orientation as well. Pouring rain and thick fog are confusing us. It feels like huge spaciousness without time, as if we are a living body who breathes and feels, but without space, without time ... A light appears at the top of the mountain and gives us hope... Maybe we are not lost, maybe this is the monastery? No, there is no monastery. But there is a house. So, in the rain, at 6:00 am Baiba and Inita are walking to a house on a hill to find out where in space and the universe we are. The girls are joking that Saint Peter himself will open the gate and invite us in, but after opening the door, he will think that Mary herself came down from the sky with her companion ... Of course we cannot live without laughter and ironic humor. The girls come back and say that the man spoke only his language, but using his gestures he was able to explain that the monastery is in a different direction. We have to drive back down and go up a different mountain. Another hour and another 12 km passed. We are getting out of the car and climbing the mountain, where the silhouette of the monastery is barely visible through the fog. I recognize the monastery, which we saw on Google and on postcards in the hotel where we stayed last night. The rain continues falling, you cannot say otherwise. It pours on us with large crystal drops soaking us from head to toe. Climbing the mountain, it is impossible not to think that the truest things, the most important direction and life lessons we learn by going through difficulties. We are climbing a high steep pathway up the mountain, and with the strong force of rain we are soaking wet in a few minutes. It is cold due to rain and fog, and, by the way it is January 15th! Visiting the monastery is an absolute mystic experience, because we don't know much about religion, we don't know anything about Orthodox beliefs, rituals, etc. We were sure about only one thing- we have to go to this place. We have to find the Ostrog monastery. A man, one of the servants from the monastery, is showing the way and we are following him. When the door opens, a small cave appears in front of us, where a room was created. The ceiling and walls of the cave are covered with frescoes. In the room there is a coffin with a covered body in it. Two Russian pastors, religious men for sure, (perhaps priests?) – are looking at us with a feeling that clearly indicates that we understand nothing about religion and that we are tourists who had brought ourselves here, in some incomprehensible way. They encourage us to kiss their crosses, and are directing us towards the coffin. We do not understand what is happening next, it is already enough that we kissed the cross in a small cave at 7:00 o’clock in the morning. It is a fact, we really don't understand anything about religion. But our feelings are telling us that everything is fine, we are here, and in front of God even a fool is a worthy person. As quickly as we got into the cave, abruptly we go out. Then on the way out, we are caught and sent up to the 2nd floor- there is a room where we can stay for free, for two nights, with bunk beds in rows. Here people can pray, meditate, spent time by themselves and be with like-minded people. The sound of crackling firewood comes from a small stove with a small door, where firewood is burning. As soon as we enter the room, hearing our language, a 40-50 year old man jumps up and is extremely happy to meet people from the Baltics. The guy, after saying his first sentence, alarms me, it is not clear what his goals are for staying here, and the cynical question arises in my head: is everything OK with this person's mental health? But it is clear- without asking we have received a guide, and the guy is ready to tell us EVERYTHING about EVERYTHING - the history of religion, the strength and superiority of the Orthodox faith over all others, the miracles of the Ostrog monastery and about St. Nicholas, who lies in a cave, hidden in a coffin and whose remains do not decompose. After completing a quick, short course in religion, we understood that we will have to return to the cave, where St. Nicholas is resting in peace, to quietly pray and think. Instructions about the ritual are given along the way. We write the names of the people who will be mentioned during the liturgy on a piece of paper, to pray for them. Papers with which you can walk inside the cave and give to the pastors, who loudly read their prayers, commemorating souls ... And a separate room where you can pray and light candles. The organization is as follows - on the one side for the living, on the other for deceased, a magical space, where ancestors are coming, reaching out and standing next to us, as if they were alive; a place without the time and space, only the universe, where you can meet your ancestors. My grandmother, from my mother’s, side immediately stands on one side, and grandmother, from my father’s side, on the other. It's a strange feeling… I know that I'm alive, and both grandmothers are dead, yet in this distant corner of the world, they are standing next to me, both holding my hands and asking me to pray for them. I feel cold, but I can’t understand- from what exactly. Maybe it’s from the fact that I am soaking wet, standing in a dark cave where candles are crackling, and water is dripping, condensed from the interaction of the cold cave and the air. Or maybe from the mystical feeling that two dead grandmothers are standing next to me, both holding my hands… The cave in the cliff is charred black from the candles... The cave where the living meets the dead, where prayers of the worlds’ crossroads are heard ... And me ... And my three companions. Although the cave is small, we are at such a distance from each other, that we can barely hear other voices and the sounds of crying. There is no sense of time, there is space, there is no time ... The most difficult thing is to answer- for how long we stayed there ... It could be an hour, it could be 20 minutes, time has disappeared. Once again, we are inside the cave with the coffin. Now we are more knowledgeable, we have sheet of paper with the names of the people we are asking to pray for. And the priests are praying for them. After listening to us, the liturgy begins. We do not speak their language, but we understand that the liturgy is about EVERYTHING, because all aspects of life are mentioned. In the cave with the remains of St. Nicholas we pass the time with liturgy, and prayers ... Again, time is undefinable. When coming out and heading to the bus, a man comes up, who takes "patronage" over us. He speaks Russian and asks to talk. The rain is falling. We are completely wet, spent indefinite hours in various small caves, prayed, cried, met our ancestors, lost sense of time, cannot even physically understand whether it is cold or just wet... Realizing that there is no church here in the classical sense, with a large room and pictures, an altar... Here are small mountain caves, where for hundreds of years the colorful frescoes have not lost their luster and the pictures are as if they were painted yesterday. It is difficult to explain how it can be… Humidity, rain, dampness ... But we understand that this is not the place for rationality, this isn’t the place to think, here you need to feel your heart, pulse, and heartbeat ... Here you need to take an elevator down to the lowest basement of yourself and see only a soul - a white soul weighing several grams. And yes ... The man desperately is trying to follow us, and to talk ... He gets on our nerves; the sound of spoken words feels disturbing now. I don't want words now. We've already let him know twice that we want to be alone. Now, when we are ready to leave, he insists that he would like to have conversation with us, and is asking for 5 minutes. Even before he spoke, I already knew what was coming. The girls are trying hard to get rid of him. I understand that I will be tolerant until the end. I am allowing him to talk. I say goodbye to the monastery with my eyes. I understand that I will have to go down from the mountain in the rain, and I am asking the man to walk me to the gate. He follows and starts to talk about the uniqueness and strength of the Orthodox faith. I am listening, and thinking at the same time. What is this gigantic machinery- religion!? And at the same time, I understand that I will get wet to the last thread, and that I have high-heeled shoes with 12 cm heels, and I will need to walk down on the slippery stones. The only thing I really want now- is a strong man's hand that will help me walk down the slippery cliffs in high heels, and doesn’t even matter, that he talks about the religion. I grabbed him with mystical grip, leaned on him and allowed to lead me down the mountain. He is delivering a monologue, but I am too focused on the wet stones to listen carefully; I am afraid to make wrong movement and slide down with my 12 cm heels. We walked down, but I don't remember much from the religious lecture he was giving me. I thought about prayers for the ancestors up at the monastery, but least of all I thought about my private life, or about the fact, that I was afraid of relationship. And on this long walk from the mountain, I prayed. It doesn’t matter how strong I am, I wish God will send me a man with whom I can be weak. I really want that. I am not just allowing him to help me, I have a feeling that he carried me down from that mountain in his arms. His task was accomplished. He showed me the understanding that strong girls want and look for a man who will allow her to be weak, who will carry his little fool in high-heeled shoes off the mountain in his arms. Of course, this man did it believing that he was a servant of God, and his mission was to help this lost girl. Anyway, I thought about everything that happened there for a long time after that…. Completely soaked, I entered the bus and we silently rolled along the serpentine in the fog and rain. We descended from our Calvary Mountain, each of us lost in our own thoughts, experiences, and in complete silence. Of course, also not without laughter and cynicism, because at 7 o'clock in the morning the priests are asking to kiss the cross and about the coffin with the mystical remains ... The irony of this came from our minds, but it had nothing to do with the emotions we experienced there. The photo that Inita took with the road, fog, rain and completely wet Me, is the most important photo of this trip. The sincerest emotions and feelings are baked in to it. There, being a living soul, I was together- hand to hand, with two deceased souls. It was there, where I went down the mountain and realized that without a man's shoulder I would have to walk barefoot on January 15th, because I would probably break my head in high-heeled shoes... A silly girl who tries to feel life like walking in a thick fog I am getting wet walking through the crossroads of my life, and in the end, I only have one wish: a safe shoulder besides me…

This name, or as we say - a nickname - will follow the person and be part of their personality for their whole life. Only a mother can feel the energy and the vibration with which a child is born. For the first two weeks, here in the office, I thought they were giving nicknames to each other, and they are so accurate! Someone is called “Square”, someone is called “Peach”, there is one called a “Slow one” ... I thought - Wow! The nickname matches so much with the person's personality that there is nothing to add or take away. So finally, this week, I asked the question- is it common in the offices across Thailand to give nicknames to everyone? They laughed heartily in response, amused by my assumption. Then they explained to me that the "nickname" is given at birth by their mother. The whole week, wherever I went, I carried this thought with me. I couldn’t contact my mom at this moment, but I really wanted to ask her which nickname she would have given at this first moment when I was in her arms - how she felt me? I look at my colleague, whom her mother gave her the nickname “O- Ae” which means - slow as a snail. Why is that? Why this nickname? And the explanation was simple- because the date of birth was expected at the end of November, and she was born only in mid-December. Therefore, the mother's feelings about the girl were like that. The other guy’s mother called him “Tao” - a square. I am looking at my other colleague, an adult man, and yes, his body seems to be formed as a square. I can continue to describe everyone, every person I am meeting. Now I am thinking about my children. What would I call them the first time holding them in my arms? Which fateful nickname would I give them? Picturing them in my mind, and immediately the nicknames come for both of them. They are so different… For the third week, every morning after the flight, I have breakfast with a respectable gentleman who came here to work for a month. The owner of the hotel invited him to observe the work of the hotel. He agreed to a month, and then he will rest for 10 months. I already know this gentleman more than some of my good friends. He showed me pictures of all children, children of children, videos of their performances, told me about each child, about husbands, wives, cars and a looot of their personal details. He also said that he spends 2 million a year on travel, since this is the period of his life when it is time to spend. This year he may even spend more, because he is going together with the lady, with whom he has been married for 49 years. They are going to Scandinavia- Norway and Finland and the trip is already planned. And since the lady never agrees to stay in hotels with fewer than 5 stars, the trip this time will cost more. We talked about the cars as well, since he owns 5. One of them is old “Jaguar”. By the way, “Jaguar” is my favorite car brand. Then we discussed the film “Gran Torino” and Clint Eastwood's acting in it, and many, many more conversations over breakfast. His mother gave him the short name “Su”, which means “Cool” in the Thai language. His long name is Surapol. The most popular way of communicating here is with LINE messenger, where all my colleagues are visible under their nicknames. And I want mine too. I'll call my mother to find out what name she would give me, and then I will have one as well, just like my colleagues. Have a good weekend! I’m still here- ULEin :)

Each of us has its own little "Comfort box" where we live and feel safe. At the level of the senses, we are looking for a similar energetic vibration. We are looking for our own. Like the pieces of a magnet, we pull closer to each other, tighten and form into one piece, larger or smaller. And it doesn't matter how big the pieces of magnets are in this formation. More important is the feeling that you have found your own, similar ones.

First emotionally and then physically. Dizziness, hot weather and she could not walk anymore. Like not at all. We went to the ZOO and it was there, where our nanny took a few steps and could not go further. I understood that in the tropical heat above + 30 C it would be impossible to carry both of them. Moreover, it was clear to me too, that the main reason and the primary one is mental state, but the physical condition follows behind. At this time of the day, instead of usual nutrients we are having, we got a sudden iron drop in the body, and it can really make you feel dizzy and sick. It is clear that Lena could not stay here. Obviously. But what should I do? I urgently needed to find a kindergarten. Together with my colleague, she took care of our visas and followed closely so that I wouldn’t run away together with the nanny. She is not only a colleague, but my boss as well. She keeps her finger on the pulse and is understands space in a flash. Additionally, she is in charge of controlling the entire movement of passengers. She needs me, and that's why she's doing everything so I don't have to think, like a babysitter. In our office the two main topics in these days were “nanny”, and “where to find a child car seat for a reasonable price”? At that time, I did not have spare 400 euros for the car seat to spend, so the whole office began the search and soon we went to see with our own eyes the local kindergartens. After having visited several, I was very pleasantly surprised by many things-children in the kindergarten have beautiful uniforms and matching backpacks. All of them had spacious playgrounds in the premises with a slide and games. Spacious, about 60 sq m. Separate rooms for study, for games, a dining room, and the sleeping space located further away. In fact, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that in Europe we are looking a little bit down on others, but it turns out that here, with all its simplicity, they are much more ahead of us. By the way, I've been dealing already with three kindergartens back home. We have 90% of kindergartens from Soviet times, where nothing has changed, not a lot of renovation in the premises, but in general everything feels as it was back in those times. Additionally, in new private kindergartens, which are built either in the middle of the field, or in a private house, the kids are brought to play in the yards of multi-storey buildings, because there is no playground. As it was when I lived in an apartment building on the first floor, where all the neighbours were growling and frowning that the kids were using their playground. Or even worse in Old Riga, where kindergarten is located on some narrow street, where there isn’t direct sunlight, no playground, just a pretentious name and high price. And it seems to be glorified and expensive, but the premises are narrow, and illogical in every possible way. When you enter the door, the cold air blows directly on the children, it feels like I'm leaving the child at the train station, but for some unknown reason the kindergarten is trendy. Also worth of special attention is the attitude towards children of our educators and nannies, which very often makes you wish for better. In comparison the kids are really taught here. This is really a school. Teachers fold their palms together teaching them to greet, and say goodbye to the educators and other children. They are teaching them to do various daily activities independently. The parents come with the child to the kindergarten gate, teachers take over from there and do everything themselves, which is correct, as it seems to me. This prevents the “circus”, that I went through with Erlend and Gabriel in their kindergarten periods, from happening. Every morning in the wardrobe near the lockers there is a screaming and crying, prolonged goodbyes of parents, tears, snot, whims. Mom doesn't know what to do, and the teachers or nannies, by and large, don't bother with what happens in the locker room. Deal with everything yourself! After the hysterics of the kid, who has been going crazy for God knows how much time already, because he understands that his mother is not experienced enough and is gaining the upper hand over his parents, they are now trying to send him to a group with all the children. In contrast here, in my opinion, everything is really simple, clear and logical. There is also free time for kids from 16:00 - 17:00, when the big TV screen at the playground turns on, which is also a rather funny moment - a cinema for such babies. Whoever wants to can watch and whoever doesn't acn playing. Officially it's their "free time". In Thailand, kindergartens, schools, and the education system in general is very expensive. Their idea is based on natural selection. If you have money, you will have education, if you don't, you stay at home and the probability of “getting into people” is reduced to zero. Starting from kindergarten, parents pay a significant amount of money. If we convert the amount to our money, it is 100 euros a month. For the locals here it is a lot of money. Then in primary school, starting from first grade, the amount of payment increases many times. Thailand dos not have the concept of free education as we do. Education here is something special, something very, very expensive. The university is already a level when the “intelligentsia” is sifted out from the “middle class”. Mass entrance examinations are held, and if a young person studies at a university, then his status rises above the masses. Parents strictly check the child's grades and achievements, at least those parents who are in my circle of friends. Money doesn't grow on trees here, only bananas. 😊 We found our kindergarten in the second half of September, but we had to wait until 2 October. Formalities. And it doesn't matter whether they spent one week at the kindergarten or the whole month, everyone is obliged to pay for the complete month, this is the order. Okay, so far so good. But I have to be at work at 05:20 AM, and Teodor is still asleep at that time, how to deal with this? I am offered different options: One of them is that I take Teodor with me and while I am flying, the team is taking care of him. This option was dropped immediately. This is nonsense! How am I going to carry my little boy with me every morning? We are looking for another solution. Suddenly, a team member introduces his daughter, who is currently on vacation from school until October 15th. She can come to the rescue. My colleague noted in advance that her daughter speaks just a little English. Our meeting with a new potential nanny is scheduled 2 weeks from now on October 2nd in the office. Before that there are no options. Only the night of October 3rd to October 4th when Lena flies away. From the day when decision was made to go home, Lena's health suddenly improved. A smile appeared on her face, and I saw that in her thoughts she is long gone, waiting to finally be in the plane. Then in another and another, which would fly her to the homeland. A girl who looks like the one from the cartoon Lilo & Stitch finally is coming. She is smiling, and smiling very sweet. As soon as she entered the room, it was already clear to me – HER! She will be the one. I asked her to write her “nick name” on a piece of paper. She wrote GIFT in block letters. I was stunned at that moment. When I thought about my children, about what nickname I would give them, then Teodors would have this one. The meaning of “Teodors” from the Greek language is God's Gift. From the moment of conception, I feel him as my great gift of life, which I received from the Universe. With his coming into my life, I became more beautiful in different ways. I changed my whole life upside down and every turn was difficult to do, but pleasant in the result. What? Now, from October the 2nd I have 2 gifts at once? 😊I smile and understand that she knows English at a level in which she is just aware that such a language exists. But we have a mediator, a translator, my boss’s “godmother”. She is useful and she needs me, because the way I do my job suits all parties involved. They don't want to let me go, so they do everything they can. Agreement on paper. Opening hours, number of days and payment. Everything is simple. On the evening of 3rd of October, dad and also the team's driver, (by the way his nickname is Pi-pi. I don’t know how parents could feel that a new-born baby will be dealing with cars in the future), brought his Gift to another Gift. 😊 The girl does not need to be taught or told anything. She has a brother of the same or similar age at home. Using my hands and google translate, I try to explain that Lena and I will go to the supermarket. With cosmic speed, like two Cinderellas, we are putting on our shoes. This is the first time within a month, when we break out somewhere without a child. We have been taking care of the baby the whole month, and both of us were tied. Where can you run with a small baby at home? We jump into the car with the feeling of adolescence. Now what? Freedom? YEEE! My head is spinning! But we understand that we have only a couple of hours available. It is already an evening and soon we should be back, because our two “gifts” are still strangers to each other. So ... Both of us have a shopping list to buy some little Thai souvenirs. We agreed that in Lena's suitcase would be room for several of my envelopes. As a writer, I love paper. For as long as I can remember, postcards are my weakness. I probably over did it, by sending my mom about 12 different postcards, thus wishing to show my mother everything that I have here. 😊 Thanks to Lena's departure, I did the job that I had thought to do in Latvia for past 3-4 years. Dividing people into groups. It was work for many hours. I wrote starting with the most significant ones, which, of course, is my family. Strange, but I also included people who are not physically a family, but I feel them as such. I wrote down dates of birth and name days of everyone. Now I also want to order a calendar with each birthday with a photo, so that I know who has a celebration. So, after finishing the list, I realized that Lena’s departure is a great opportunity to send some cute little things that will remind about me and Thailand to my friends, and to please them. Souvenirs, coffee from Starbucks. What is so special about it? It’s the feeling that you can buy some kind of trinket, a cup of coffee and enjoy, like a delicious delicacy. For Lena and me this is our last evening. We ourselves know how those who stay and those who are already on the platform feel ... At night, until the last moment before taking Lena to the airport, I am still in a hurry to sort my envelopes, little souvenirs and things, in which I put the true feeling that I feel here towards each of them. The list was made not by the mind, but by the heart, where, of course first of all, is my family and not only on the physiological, but on the level of feelings. It is still night- time, when we drive to the airport. We are talking a little. We had no sleep, and didn’t have time for talking last evening. I drove as if I had lived in Chiang Mai for whole life. Everything is going like clockwork, despite the fact that the first and only time I was at the airport, was when we arrived. But I find the way without a hitch. Lena is no longer here, only the body is present. And only an agitated mind, like a monkey in a glass cage, lark around and asks what will happen if something happens in Bangkok? What if ... if ... if ...? I am looking at her and thinking, Dear Little Fool! Very soon, and without a sarcophagus you will be at the gate in the airport of Riga. We ourselves know how long the road THERE takes, and how quickly the road goes HOME when we return. At the airport entrance, Lena lifts the suitcase with great force and is ready to take off immediately. I hugged her and tears rolled down to my cheeks. I am the only one who is crying. Staying behind on the platform is always more painful ... After the airport I am going directly for a morning balloon flight. I can’t stop the tears. Everyone knows that I just said goodbye to the nanny. Here we have our own relationship, like in a family. For each next question – “how are you feeling”? I'm bursting in tears. Oh Lord, I'm not in shape to fly today. I didn’t sleep, I’m upset, I can’t hold the tears. A bright sun-drenched morning. Sunglasses are saving me again. My “godmother and boss” pats my elbow, and asks if the team can start turning on the fans? I swallow tears that are rolling down my cheeks. Big, big tears on my cheeks. I can't say anything. I nod my head. It really hurts this morning. Because sometimes you don't need anything else, just a person besides. And Lena, from the moment I saw her, felt as an equal partner in the situation. My student girl comes. She is not saying anything. She is looking at me and is standing nearby. Humanly and reliably. I cannot stop crying. The tears are falling like rain here in Thailand. Huge, giant drops. When I lift the balloon, I must see the opening into which to direct the fire. This was the first time in my life when raising the balloon, both hands was busy, and tears were falling down. It felt like five elements collided at the same time. Water flows down my cheeks and I don't see anything through my glasses. In front of me- the fire, which will lift us into the air. There is earth and metal as well. Once, in some ancient book of Indian wisdom, I read about five elements that are present in every person, whether in one proportion or another. At that time, I felt myself as a metal mixed with water. And here I am. I am holding the metal handles and I am getting wet in the water... The flight is wonderful! A group of smart, versatile people from Australia and Singapore are sharing their adventures in other parts of the world, and, as if knowing that the eyes under the glasses are swollen and my heart is bleeding, are telling me that there are still a lot of things ahead in my life. It sounded so embarrassing, I even asked - I am sorry? The answer was that I look like a person who has great events ahead. They definitely will be waiting for me in Singapore! After the flight, they are writing their home addresses, phone numbers and places I must visit in Singapore in my notebook. A girl from Australia wrote in capital letters- FIJI ISLANDS...