Zwei Leben by Georg Maas

I have been to see a very good Norwegian German produced film "Zwei Leben" (Two lives) on the disruption of a life built on lies, dissimulations, stealing of identities and every possible devious approach liable to bring out an emotional story based on a true fact related to World War II and the so called "shame children", in this particular case a child born from a relationship between a Norwegian woman and a German occupation soldier.

 

 

 

 

 

Though I am not  commonly used to reading the subtitles, which I find to be a distractor, I had to this time during the dialogues in Norwegian, though not necessarily in those carried out in German and yet despite this fact I managed to get deeply involved in the film sequencing which turned out to be more than a simple drama or a thrill type of film.

The interpretation was second to none and for me, similarly to many others from my generation I believe, an utterly good surprise to see Liv Ulman I hadn't seen for such a long time playing one of the characters. 

 

Not having read or heard of the former DDR involvement in regards to the "shame children" before and thus not being able to determine the extent of the truth conveyed in the film I can nevertheless say that even if it was partly true it must have been very hard for the parties involved - those who lost the children, those who looked for the parents, the ones who "got in-between" and all who unknowingly got caught up in the web of lies.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Challenging one's limits ...

It was a fairly hard working week in which I had to challenge my own limits. I don't normally like to have to concentrate myself on the English Language development of different groups simultaneously for fear of not being able to pay the necessary attention to each of every one of them, particularly because the syllabi of the Aviation oriented courses are too demanding to be taken lightly.

 

 

For reasons that went beyond my control, as I was still teaching an abinitio group of air traffic controllers I was asked to take on another group, this time of communications and aeronautical operators, which not only further added to my already overburdened timetable but also contemplated a total immersion type of approach I personally don't feel adequate bearing in mind the long term main objective of this type of refresher courses. 

 

 

I had to readapt my whole concept of teaching and reinvent myself as a communicator so as to accommodate this type of approach without having the students demotivated and tired.  

We have made it through to the end in what was at times a challenging of our own limits ... but we (the students and I) were both particularly happy with the final outcome ...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Salam Ouessant by Azouz Begag

Carrying a hard cover book in one's handbag, so as to read it during the long bus and subway rides may not be handy, this being the reason why I bought a few pocket books to help me face the often fastidious hours spent on them.

 

The synopsis of Salam Ouessant appealed to me and despite knowing nothing about its author (shame on me) the moment I started reading it not only did I fall for Azouz Begag's style of writing interspersed by poetical-like thoughts that had me ponder on life's objectives in general and cultural inheritage related aspects as well but also children-parents relationships whenever one of the parents is estranged. 

 

I read the book in three days and have had an enormous curiosity in reading some of the books already edited by this French-Algerian author since then.

 

  

 

"De mon père je tennais cette philosophie: ne partager avec les autres que le meilleur de soi et garder ses malheurs au fond, sous la godasse, jusqu'à ce que le temps les réduise en poussière, parce que le malheur est le plus grand dénominateur commun entre les humains. Alors il vaut mieux que chacun garde sa part pour soi, sinon notre besoin de consolation ne s'apaise jamais."

"Si on ne met pas de mots sur les choses, ells n'existent pas. Chaque mot, une chose. Pas de mots, pas de choses. Elles n'existent pas. Elles restent sur le seuil comme des idées, des augures."









 

Treasures from the Royal Palaces of Spain - a temporary exhibition at Calouste Gulbenkian Museum ... and ... or memories of a treasured past ... - The 2nd of November 2014

Having been made aware that the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum in collaboration with the National Patrimony of Spain was exhibiting 141 works of Art pertaining to the Royal Palaces of Spain, Mia and I decided not to miss this extraordinary opportunity, and more so because the exhibition was said to focus on the Art which emerged in the Iberian Peninsula over a period of 350 years in which matrimonial and cultural ties between both Portugal and Spain can be accounted for.

 

I believe most people who visited it were specifically looking for the well known Caravagio's painting "Salomé with the Head of Saint John the  Baptist, despite being the only work by this painter to be owned by the Spanish Patrimony.  

 

 

The two Museum Galleries where the works of Art were in display were overcrowded and again particularly around paintings by well known artists such as Zurbaran, Titian, Francisco de Goya and El Greco.

From images of various palaces to religious artefacts, armoury and even a tapestry the temporary exhibition was divided into epochs but I do believe the portraits must have outnumbered any other representations. Among those I was taken by the one of Joanna of Austria (the founder of the Monastery of las Descalzas Reales), her son King Sebastião of Portugal and her niece Isabel Clara Eugénia, as well as the one of Maria Isabella of Braganza (Queen of Spain and founder of Museo del Prado), maybe because of their Portuguese origins and the role they played in the History of Spain. 

 

 

As we walked back into the Museum Hall a free entrance jazz concert was going on, so we listened in for a while until we decided it was time to stroll in the Museum's gardens (which used to be "my" garden of election when Mia and Faye were toddlers) with a  black and white photo exhibition in place, though neither of us figured out what it really was.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Despite the weight of Faye's absence in our lives ... we managed to revive some of the memories and even laugh as we remembered a few of them ... Long gone precious moments that will always linger on and that we will treasure forever ... 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Strolling around on a sunny Sunday ...

I had intended to spend Sunday morning at Museu do Oriente, whose exhibitions always seem to thrill me but upon reaching the International train station of Santa Apolónia realised the streets up to Cais do Sodré were closed down because of a race course I hadn't heard of. Rather than letting disappointment take over me I decided to walk around the back streets near Alfama and see what would happen instead.

 

Street Art is a growing phenomenon and every time I step out I come across a new graffiti I hadn't seen before. As I made my way towards Martins Moniz I walked by Casa dos Bicos, which has been transformed into Saramago's Museum. 

 

  

A distant Jazzy voice could be heard as I strolled across Martim Moniz square now livened up by vibrant coloured panels painted by African artists. I recognised one of them, Ismael Sequeira whose lines impregnated in movement I had seen for the first time long time ago, as he and a daughter of mine attended an Art workshop. I felt as if colour, similarly to sun rays, could have a positive impact on people.

The whole layout of the square had been "reinvented" with the esplanades, the artistic displays and the ongoing music bringing a new dimension to the open space I hadn't been to since last year.

 

 

From there I walked into the former hard drugs and "redlight" area, which was "refurbished" as well as part of an overall plan measure taken by the city Hall and again I was surprised to come across esplanades and street Art a little bit everywhere where space for the old Viuva Lamego's glazed tile façade and graffitis on genital mutilation could be found. 

 

 

 

Armenian Music in Lisbon - Calouste Gulbenkian Auditorium - The 14th of October 2014

 

 

 

 

 

 

I was fortunate enough to have been able to attend a magical one and a half hour chamber music evening event at the auditorium of Calouste Gulbenkian Museum during the cultural week of Armenia.

 

Having been to Armenia early this year and fallen for their culture further added to my curiosity and I was astounded, firstly with the amount of people who attended this event (the auditoirum was full) and secondly because of the virtuosity of the musicians who interpreted  major compositions  by well known Armenian composers from significantly different periods, Komitas, Arno Babajanian and Tigran Mansurian.

 

Despite having preferred the ones played by the Trio Aeternus, a classical piano trio formed by Alexander Steward (violin), Varoujan Bartikian (cello) and Lucjan Luc (piano) I must admit that all the musicians were outstandingly good.

 

The latest books I have read ...

No books could be so utterly different as the latest two books I have read and yet I can't help saying I have enjoyed them both. Erich Marie Remarque's writing is sublime and the story a rather touching one. I couldn't put the book down the moment I started reading it and at one particular time I felt as if I was experiencing the characters's setbacks.

 

The fact that part of the story is set in Lisbon, whose role during the second world war was  one of extreme importance as far as the refugees are concerned, might have had an additional impact especially because I have read quite a lot about it and in particular Portugual's involvement as a neutral country throughout the whole ordeal but it was a lot more than that. Some of the extracts made me further wonder and that in itself was well worth the reading.

 

 

 

"Les souvenirs pénibles ont un avantage: ils vous convainquent qu'on est heureux même si l'on doutait un instant plus tôt."

 

"Ne perd-on pas constamment ce que l'on croit tenir, parce que rien ne demeure immobile? (...) L'immobilité ne survient-elle pas à l'instant seulement òu tout est fini? Rien ne changera plus. N'est-ce pas alors qu'on possède vraiment les choses?"

 

" Mais n'est-ce pas l'ambition de chacun, de vouloir retenir ce qui nous échappe et de fuir ce qui refuse de nous quitter?"

 

"L'absence  compte dix fois plus que la présence."

 

"Jusqu'au jour, je n'avais prêté attention qu'à ce qui m'avait été pris, sans imaginer que j'avais pu acquérir quelque chose."

 

"Les choses ne sont importantes qu'en fonction du prix que nous leur attachons."

 

    

The "Touriste" was definitely a lighter book to read though unquestionably interesting. Some of the countries the journalist has visited  and written about I have been to myself and my opinion may differ from the one he has conveyed. His opinions are based on his personal experiences thus  ...

 

"Tout n'est pas dans tout, chaque événement est unique et laisse des traces uniques aussi bien dans l'histoire que dans la mémoire de ceux qui l'ont traversé." 

 

"Le paradis n'a pas d'adresse. Il se déplace à la suface de la planète pour offrir des moments furtifs à ceux qui savent les saisir."