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Journey, Mongolia

Chapter 5 – Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia

posted by Aleksandra Tofil
Sep 12, 2018 1669 0 0
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Russia-Mongolia border crossing. In the chaos, a mass of bodies waves their passports feverishly and presses us to a customs counter.

After a fight for our lives, we get visa stamps and return to the car. Here, a very serious-looking custom officer awaits us. With a white-gloved hand armed with a mirror on a long pole, he checks the car chassis. Oddly, the officer is more interested in the chassis than in the content of plastic boxes filling the car trunk. We do not object and wait politely in silence.

“Are you going to Ulaanbaatar? Can I tag along?”, suddenly a young Ukrainian girl asks us in English.

Picking up a hitchhiker at the border crossing? That is a first.

In the end, the two of us left Russia, but we enter Mongolia as a party of four. Just before leaving the border zone, a young Polish guy joins us. We pick up hitchhikers like mushrooms after a summer rain.

The guests make themselves comfortable in the ‘homebulance’ living room/kitchen/bedroom, and off we go! The tremendous Mongolian adventure awaits!

Two hundred meters further, it turns out that one of the customs officers has not stamped some piece of paper properly.

And so, we return to the chaos of bodies, passports and documents.

After six hours at the border crossing, our energy level allows us only to reach the nearest eatery. An older lady-owner with a storm of beautiful black curls greets us. With apparent expertise, she recommends a sweet red borsch and a sour okroshka for ladies, and meat with eggs served on a sizzling platter for gents — a delicious heart attack on a plate.

It is 4 pm, and there are only 350 kilometres left to Ulaanbaatar – not too bad. Considering that the narrow, but asphalt ribbon-like road stretches up to the capital, we should reach the target in four hours tops.

The first kilometres are indeed beautifully smooth — the road snakes among the lush green and infinite sea of steppes. Its greenery, over a thin line of the horizon, meets the equally endless azure of the sky. Rarely, here and there glisten white canvas of gers – the traditional tents of nomads and herdsmen. Each of the gers has a pen for livestock. Over and over again, sheep or goats block our route with an adorable shaggy and bleating traffic jam. We love it!

All goes well until numerous holes start to pop up under our wheels. The holes, finally change into craters gaping with black nothingness. We abandon admiring the fantastic landscape and concentrate entirely on the road slalom. It goes quite okay until it starts to rain. The azure of the sky changes into greys of dirty canvas and finally into deep blacks when the night falls.

Sudden braking, sharp turns, screeching tyres and our hitchhikers ruthlessly tossed around the ‘homebulance’ living room, mark the rest of the route. The four planned hours stretch out into eight, equally filled with curses and prayers.

And on top of that, these hellish headlights! All drivers alike, seem to completely ignore the existence of dipped lights and immediately switch to a full beam. That they dazzle oncoming traffic? Well, drivers coming from the opposite direction also use the full beam so what the issue is?

In the end, however, half-blind and exhausted, against all the odds, we reach Ulaanbaatar.

The capital is a chaotic city. Everywhere we can see construction sites that look like they have no idea how to develop further. Around the half-finished buildings stand heavy machines looking like abandoned dogs – someone left them here and never came back. Such sights are present in both: the city centre and the outskirts. Possibly, most of them will eventually turn into blocks of flats. It looks like the demand is high. Of the three million population of Mongolia, 1,5 million lives in Ulaanbaatar. On top of that, there are seasonal mini-towns of gers appearing around the capital in the winter. Thousands of people head to Ulaanbaatar, where it is easier for them to get food and fuel during freezing temperature reaching as low as fifty degrees sub-zero. Temporary population growth is manifested, among others, by a dense, black cloud of smog hanging over the capital.

And yet, with the onset of spring, the masses of ice and people melt. Gers move back to boundless steppes and pastures, perfect for livestock. Attachment to pastoral traditions is probably too great to compromise it in favour of confining oneself in a concrete cage of an apartment despite all the convenience that goes with it.

The chaos of the capital – however incredible it sounds – is also its positive and unique symbol. Streets of Ulaanbaatar are very cosmopolitan. Not only concerning more or less lost tourists but also in services that the city offers. Korea and Japan are the market leaders in both gastronomies (restaurants, food products) and cosmetics (beauty salons, spa, whitening creams). Also, there are Chinese karaoke lounges and large shopping malls with the finest Western brands, standing next to tiny convenience stores. Everyone will find something for themselves – those who spend millions of tugriks with a light hand, and a poor backpacker alike. Ulaanbaatar is a political, financial, economic and cultural centre, but in a very homely, familiar package.

After a few days in the capital, we decide to take a short tour to Tsonjin Boldog, located just sixty kilometres to the east. And yet again, we are going through a green and blue painting-like landscape, which someone forgot to frame. When it seems that it cannot get any prettier, the steppes begin to rise in waves of hills. A silver colossus towers over them – the mighty Genghis Khan on a steel stallion. The 40-meter tall monument – the tallest in the world equestrian statue of Khan – was raised to commemorate the one who in the 13th century united Mongolia and made it an empire. The figure stands in the place where, according to the legends, Khan found a golden whip, which inspired his future conquests. The monument faces east, towards Genghis Khan’s birthplace.

For a short while, we admire the colossus from the perspective of an ant, and then we climb a very narrow staircase to reach a tiny observation deck located on the horse head. The deck may be inconspicuous, but the view that extends from it is incredible. Heavy cotton of clouds lies on the distant, grey-black mountain peaks. In front of them, the lush green of gentle hills brightly cut off from the dark sisters in the distance. And then the sun begins to set – bloody, terrifying and terrific. The silver of Genghis Khan’s statue turns into a fiery ruby.

Admiring the fantastic sunset, we forget about a teeny-tiny detail of finding a place to park our ‘homebulance’ for the night. We end up sleeping in the middle of something resembling a quarry.

The next day, we spend stacking up on provisions for a month of driving through Mongolia. In Ulaanbaatar, we find a huge supermarket and roam around shelves with childlike enthusiasm. On the shelves – Korean products. Of course. But what’s that next to them? Wait, do I see well? I don’t wear my specs, so I’m calling Andrzej over.

“KOWAR – pickled cucumbers”, he reads in Polish.

No way! We go through every shelf in our reach, and we have transferred back to Poland: KOWAR gherkins, KOWAR vegetable goulash, DAWTONA pasta sauces. I cannot hold tears of joy when in the sweets department, we see MIESZKO chocolates. The sweet taste of home.

A few hours later, we drive our car with a patriotically stuffed trunk, towards Tashanta – the western border of Mongolia. Our visa expires in 30 days, so there is no rush and the car rolls unhurriedly through a flat, golden steppe.

Less than a hundred kilometres away from the capital, we drive off an asphalt road onto a sandy path broken with a heat of the sun. It leads to the smallest national park of Mongolia – Khustajn Nuruu. It is the only non-governmental park operating in Mongolia. Its relatively small area covers 506 square kilometres and is famous for the efforts to restore the population of Przewalski’s horses to the world. The origin of this animal is just as mysterious as its almost complete extinction. Mongols call them Takhi – spirits. It is the world’s last wild horse that has never been domesticated.

In 1879, the Russian general and geographer Nikolai Przewalski for the first time noticed and collected materials concerning beige, stocky horses with a very short mane and a complete lack of fringe. Already then – named in the explorer’s honour – Przewalski’s Horses were an endangered species. In 1900, a broad action was taken to catch animals and transfer them to zoos in Europe. From this group, 13 reproducible individuals contributed to the rebirth of the species, which in the 1960s was announced extinct in the wild. Currently, the worldwide cooperation of scientists managed to rebuild the population of wild horses in their natural habitat and almost 300 Przewalski’s Horses walk around the Khustajn Nuruu National Park.

When the setting sun cast streaks of gold on the green hills of the park, small, stocky horses come down to the waterholes in the valley. They walk lazily, unhurriedly. They know that they are at home. Drinking water from a narrow stream, they snort and neigh satisfied. The bright beige heads move briskly up and down as they try to get rid of annoying flies. If this is not enough, they roll in muddy puddles, to cover the fur with thin black armour. The young generation of thin-legged foals with a loud neigh follow the footsteps of the elders. Now and then, fluffy fur balls swish between the horses. Marmots. They are also under the protection of the Khustajn Nuruu National Park.

After two days spent in the company of “spirits” and marmots, we continue our journey west, towards Karakorum – the former capital of the Mongol Empire.

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[🇵🇱POLSKA WERSJA W KOMENTARZACH] "It is 'Ro [🇵🇱POLSKA WERSJA W KOMENTARZACH]

"It is 'Romeo and Juliet'. Bitter-sour ripening cheese - manly like Romeo and marmalade made of marmelo - sweet like Juliet."

Laughter echoes over the long table marked here and there with golden specks of the sun piercing through leaves of the vine. Laughter hearty and contagious. After a while, the whole courtyard, hidden in the blissful shade of grapevines, sounds with it. Even dogs tired of the heat set their tails in motion.

Only minutes ago, the same people – family and friends – were working in the heat of the sun. Hands armed with sharp scissors cut the heavy, emerald-golden bunches of Alvarinho - the world-famous jewels of grapes from the Monção-Melgaço region.

Sweat flooded the eyes. The merciless rays of the sun scorched every each of the skin. The backs ached from long hours of work.

The afternoon washed away fatigue and toil. They dissolved in joyful closeness. They were drowned out by delight, over the mouth-watering dishes steaming on the table; by the buzz of conversations and rascal jokes; by the burst of the wine bottle cork, fancifully cut with a knife and by the clink of wine glasses raised in toasts.

They disappeared between handshakes, pecks on the cheeks and hearty slaps on the back - "great work!". 

Work that will start again at dawn tomorrow. Again, it will break backs and flood still sleepy eyes with sweat. The work that won't stop for many, many weeks. And which, along with exhaustion, brings the happiness of keeping the tradition alive.

The tradition of human life led to the rhythm set by nature. The tradition of sharing the hardships of work and the joys of rest. The multi-generational tradition of creating a unique wine taste - as sharp as the toil and as sweet as the friendship. As the family.

#portugal #portugalia #moncaoemelgaco #alvarinho #wine #wino #grapes #winogrona #winobranie #grapeharvest
[🇬🇧ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] Obudził nas wybuch [🇬🇧ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]
Obudził nas wybuch gazu. Potworny huk zaraz za ścianą karetki. Wyjrzeliśmy przestraszeni. Zamiast zgliszczy i zniszczenia zobaczyliśmy potężną, kolorową czaszę startującego balonu.

- Ni hao! – z masywnego kosza podczepionego pod balon, dobiegło nas chińskie powitanie.

Wkrótce powietrzny pojazd zmienił się w maleńką kropkę zawieszoną nad horyzontem. Dołączył do dziesiątek jemu podobnych. Malutkich, gruszkowatych punkcików, jeszcze bezbarwnych czernią na tle nieba, czekającego na wschód słońca.

Chwilę później wszystko zaczęło nabierać kolorów. Zapieczone piaskowce Kapadocji nasiąkały złotem i pomarańczem. Zza ciemnej, nieregularnej linii horyzontu podnosiła się powoli jeszcze jedna czasza. Balon wschodzącego słońca dostojnie wzbijał się do lotu.

Usiedliśmy na klifie. Dziesiątki metrów pod naszymi stopami kolejne balony gotowały się do startu. Nad głowami unosiły się inne. Patrzyliśmy zahipnotyzowani, zaczarowani napowietrznym baletem. Zwieszeni między żywiołami – ze stopami w czerwonej ziemi Kapadocji, z głową w jej złotych chmurach.

#kapadocja #cappadocia #turcja #turkey #balloons #balony #yourshotphotographer #natgeoyourshot
[🇵🇱 POLSKI W KOMENTARZACH] Today is our Port [🇵🇱 POLSKI W KOMENTARZACH]
Today is our Portuguese anniversary!
Exactly a year ago - on 17/12/2019 - on a rainy and extremely dark evening, we drove into Portugal.
We were supposed to stay here for a short while only. Just to prepare the homebulance - and ourselves – for the travel across Africa.
The planned three months turned into twelve.
Over the past 366 days, we have been eating dishes that are typical for every corner of Portugal. We can almost list all of the 1000 bacalhau recipes. Masterfully - and with innate modesty - we can cook caldo verde, bacalhau à brás and francesinha. We are able to tell waiters where, in their own restaurant - with the cupboard-and-the-first-shelf-from-the-bottom accuracy - they will find Piri-Piri sauce. We eat 'Romeo and Juliet' without fear of committing an act of cannibalism. And, instead of blood, in our veins flow bagaço, aguardente, port wine and vinho verde.
We even participated in the creation of the 2020 vintage of the latter, collecting in the scorching sun the unique alvarinho grapes, characteristic to the Monção and Melgaço subregion.
With the cat food, we fed substantial numbers of Portuguese stray (occasionally also not-so-stray) birds, cats and dogs, including the bunch of gentle giants - Castro Laboreiro dogs. We met two colonies of bats that live behind the bookshelves of the beautiful Baroque Biblioteca Joanina in Coimbra.
In the scorching sun and torrent rain, we walked across national parks with ancient tumulus, 'Jurassic beaches' with imprints of prehistoric plants, animals and other unidentified objects; with summer (branda) and winter (inverneira) pastoral villages.

#portugal #portugalia
Capela do Senhor da Pedra - Miramar #portugal #po Capela do Senhor da Pedra - Miramar

#portugal #portugalia #miramar #vilanovadegaia #chapelofthelordofthestone #capeladosenhordapedra #yourshotphotographer
[🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] - Ależ on piękni [🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]

- Ależ on pięknie wygląda! 

Pierwszy raz na Monastyr Sumela spojrzeliśmy z oddali mostu doń prowadzącego. Potężna budowla wtulała się w jeszcze potężniejszą górę. Bezpieczna w objęciach ostrych, skalistych stoków lewitowała nad falującym morzem zieleni. 

Według legendy, sama Matka Boska wskazała miejsce, na którym miała być wzniesiona budowla, gdzie spocznie jej ikona, wykonana przez Św. Łukasza. 

Boskie miejsce!

Im bardziej się zbliżaliśmy do monastyru, tym większy podziw w nas wzbudzał. Coraz dokładniej widzieliśmy koronki krużganków, którymi kiedyś spacerowali zakonnicy. Coraz wyraźniej wyobrażaliśmy sobie widoki, które musieli widzieć z okien swoich cel. Bezpiecznie zawieszeni w powietrzu na kamiennej chmurze monastyru.

Z aparatami w gotowości pędzimy do kasy, żeby jak najszybciej móc dokumentować piękno miejsca. Mimo ucha puszczamy uwagi kasjerki, że wejść można owszem, ale trwają teraz roboty renowacyjne. Kiwamy, głowami, że wiemy, że nieważne, że zapłacimy każdą cenę, żeby tylko zobaczyć na żywo obraz, który już wymalowaliśmy sobie w wyobraźni. 

Z palcami drżącymi gotowością naciskania migawki wpadamy na dziedziniec monastyru i …

...stajemy przed gigantycznym rusztowaniem, które zasłania absolutnie wszystko. Nie tylko sam budynek, ale i widok zeń się rozciągający.

Czasami warto wyciszyć nieco wyobraźnię, a wsłuchać się bardziej w słowa kasjerek.

#turkey #turcja #sümela #sümelamanastırı #sumelamonastery #yourshotphotographer
[🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] Fotograficzni intru [🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]
Fotograficzni intruzi, czyli dlaczego rzadko pojawiamy się na naszych zdjęciach.

Jeszcze widać, że nie tak dawno toczyło się w nim życie. Że miał duszę, tak, jak ci którzy do niego przychodzili. Teraz stoi cichy, pusty. I piękny w tym, z jaką godnością poddaje się naciskowi czasu.

W jego wysłużonym, spracowanym wnętrzu staram się pozować. Na tle rozświetlonych foto-idealnym słońcem podwojów; na ambonie trzeszczącej historią i pachnącej próchnem; przy pustych wnękach osamotniałych kapliczek.
Staram się pozować i czuję się jak intruz.

Jakbym zawłaszczała sobie coś, co należy się naszym rzeczywistym bohaterom – stareńkiemu kościołowi, który kruszy się pod naciskiem czasu, ale robi to tak godnie i pięknie, że aż wzrusza; zatoczce na irańskiej wyspie Keszm, gdzie księżyc rozsrebrza noce tak bardzo, że wszystko wokół rzuca bajkowe cienie; ciekawskim mongolskim nomadom, którzy nalegają na wymianę numerów telefonów i prowadzenie przeuroczych w swojej dziwności mongolsko-polskich rozmów.

Nie czujemy się dobrze przed obiektywem, bo nie czujemy się go warci, kiedy dookoła dzieją się sceny, które powinniśmy rzeczywiście pokazywać.

Dlatego Kochani, mało nas widzicie na zdjęciach, ale to dlatego, że bardziej niż nasze malutkie osóbki, chcemy Wam pokazać wielki, przepiękny świat.

#portugal #portugalia #arrimal #serrasdeaireecandeeiros
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Karetką Dookoła Świata
Around the World in the Ambulance
From Poland to Alaska
📍 Yoga for elder people in Kathmandu 👇

Peryferie
[🇵🇱POLSKA WERSJA W KOMENTARZACH] "It is 'Ro [🇵🇱POLSKA WERSJA W KOMENTARZACH]

"It is 'Romeo and Juliet'. Bitter-sour ripening cheese - manly like Romeo and marmalade made of marmelo - sweet like Juliet."

Laughter echoes over the long table marked here and there with golden specks of the sun piercing through leaves of the vine. Laughter hearty and contagious. After a while, the whole courtyard, hidden in the blissful shade of grapevines, sounds with it. Even dogs tired of the heat set their tails in motion.

Only minutes ago, the same people – family and friends – were working in the heat of the sun. Hands armed with sharp scissors cut the heavy, emerald-golden bunches of Alvarinho - the world-famous jewels of grapes from the Monção-Melgaço region.

Sweat flooded the eyes. The merciless rays of the sun scorched every each of the skin. The backs ached from long hours of work.

The afternoon washed away fatigue and toil. They dissolved in joyful closeness. They were drowned out by delight, over the mouth-watering dishes steaming on the table; by the buzz of conversations and rascal jokes; by the burst of the wine bottle cork, fancifully cut with a knife and by the clink of wine glasses raised in toasts.

They disappeared between handshakes, pecks on the cheeks and hearty slaps on the back - "great work!". 

Work that will start again at dawn tomorrow. Again, it will break backs and flood still sleepy eyes with sweat. The work that won't stop for many, many weeks. And which, along with exhaustion, brings the happiness of keeping the tradition alive.

The tradition of human life led to the rhythm set by nature. The tradition of sharing the hardships of work and the joys of rest. The multi-generational tradition of creating a unique wine taste - as sharp as the toil and as sweet as the friendship. As the family.

#portugal #portugalia #moncaoemelgaco #alvarinho #wine #wino #grapes #winogrona #winobranie #grapeharvest
[🇬🇧ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] Obudził nas wybuch [🇬🇧ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]
Obudził nas wybuch gazu. Potworny huk zaraz za ścianą karetki. Wyjrzeliśmy przestraszeni. Zamiast zgliszczy i zniszczenia zobaczyliśmy potężną, kolorową czaszę startującego balonu.

- Ni hao! – z masywnego kosza podczepionego pod balon, dobiegło nas chińskie powitanie.

Wkrótce powietrzny pojazd zmienił się w maleńką kropkę zawieszoną nad horyzontem. Dołączył do dziesiątek jemu podobnych. Malutkich, gruszkowatych punkcików, jeszcze bezbarwnych czernią na tle nieba, czekającego na wschód słońca.

Chwilę później wszystko zaczęło nabierać kolorów. Zapieczone piaskowce Kapadocji nasiąkały złotem i pomarańczem. Zza ciemnej, nieregularnej linii horyzontu podnosiła się powoli jeszcze jedna czasza. Balon wschodzącego słońca dostojnie wzbijał się do lotu.

Usiedliśmy na klifie. Dziesiątki metrów pod naszymi stopami kolejne balony gotowały się do startu. Nad głowami unosiły się inne. Patrzyliśmy zahipnotyzowani, zaczarowani napowietrznym baletem. Zwieszeni między żywiołami – ze stopami w czerwonej ziemi Kapadocji, z głową w jej złotych chmurach.

#kapadocja #cappadocia #turcja #turkey #balloons #balony #yourshotphotographer #natgeoyourshot
[🇵🇱 POLSKI W KOMENTARZACH] Today is our Port [🇵🇱 POLSKI W KOMENTARZACH]
Today is our Portuguese anniversary!
Exactly a year ago - on 17/12/2019 - on a rainy and extremely dark evening, we drove into Portugal.
We were supposed to stay here for a short while only. Just to prepare the homebulance - and ourselves – for the travel across Africa.
The planned three months turned into twelve.
Over the past 366 days, we have been eating dishes that are typical for every corner of Portugal. We can almost list all of the 1000 bacalhau recipes. Masterfully - and with innate modesty - we can cook caldo verde, bacalhau à brás and francesinha. We are able to tell waiters where, in their own restaurant - with the cupboard-and-the-first-shelf-from-the-bottom accuracy - they will find Piri-Piri sauce. We eat 'Romeo and Juliet' without fear of committing an act of cannibalism. And, instead of blood, in our veins flow bagaço, aguardente, port wine and vinho verde.
We even participated in the creation of the 2020 vintage of the latter, collecting in the scorching sun the unique alvarinho grapes, characteristic to the Monção and Melgaço subregion.
With the cat food, we fed substantial numbers of Portuguese stray (occasionally also not-so-stray) birds, cats and dogs, including the bunch of gentle giants - Castro Laboreiro dogs. We met two colonies of bats that live behind the bookshelves of the beautiful Baroque Biblioteca Joanina in Coimbra.
In the scorching sun and torrent rain, we walked across national parks with ancient tumulus, 'Jurassic beaches' with imprints of prehistoric plants, animals and other unidentified objects; with summer (branda) and winter (inverneira) pastoral villages.

#portugal #portugalia
Capela do Senhor da Pedra - Miramar #portugal #po Capela do Senhor da Pedra - Miramar

#portugal #portugalia #miramar #vilanovadegaia #chapelofthelordofthestone #capeladosenhordapedra #yourshotphotographer
[🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] - Ależ on piękni [🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]

- Ależ on pięknie wygląda! 

Pierwszy raz na Monastyr Sumela spojrzeliśmy z oddali mostu doń prowadzącego. Potężna budowla wtulała się w jeszcze potężniejszą górę. Bezpieczna w objęciach ostrych, skalistych stoków lewitowała nad falującym morzem zieleni. 

Według legendy, sama Matka Boska wskazała miejsce, na którym miała być wzniesiona budowla, gdzie spocznie jej ikona, wykonana przez Św. Łukasza. 

Boskie miejsce!

Im bardziej się zbliżaliśmy do monastyru, tym większy podziw w nas wzbudzał. Coraz dokładniej widzieliśmy koronki krużganków, którymi kiedyś spacerowali zakonnicy. Coraz wyraźniej wyobrażaliśmy sobie widoki, które musieli widzieć z okien swoich cel. Bezpiecznie zawieszeni w powietrzu na kamiennej chmurze monastyru.

Z aparatami w gotowości pędzimy do kasy, żeby jak najszybciej móc dokumentować piękno miejsca. Mimo ucha puszczamy uwagi kasjerki, że wejść można owszem, ale trwają teraz roboty renowacyjne. Kiwamy, głowami, że wiemy, że nieważne, że zapłacimy każdą cenę, żeby tylko zobaczyć na żywo obraz, który już wymalowaliśmy sobie w wyobraźni. 

Z palcami drżącymi gotowością naciskania migawki wpadamy na dziedziniec monastyru i …

...stajemy przed gigantycznym rusztowaniem, które zasłania absolutnie wszystko. Nie tylko sam budynek, ale i widok zeń się rozciągający.

Czasami warto wyciszyć nieco wyobraźnię, a wsłuchać się bardziej w słowa kasjerek.

#turkey #turcja #sümela #sümelamanastırı #sumelamonastery #yourshotphotographer
[🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS] Fotograficzni intru [🇬🇧 ENGLISH IN COMMENTS]
Fotograficzni intruzi, czyli dlaczego rzadko pojawiamy się na naszych zdjęciach.

Jeszcze widać, że nie tak dawno toczyło się w nim życie. Że miał duszę, tak, jak ci którzy do niego przychodzili. Teraz stoi cichy, pusty. I piękny w tym, z jaką godnością poddaje się naciskowi czasu.

W jego wysłużonym, spracowanym wnętrzu staram się pozować. Na tle rozświetlonych foto-idealnym słońcem podwojów; na ambonie trzeszczącej historią i pachnącej próchnem; przy pustych wnękach osamotniałych kapliczek.
Staram się pozować i czuję się jak intruz.

Jakbym zawłaszczała sobie coś, co należy się naszym rzeczywistym bohaterom – stareńkiemu kościołowi, który kruszy się pod naciskiem czasu, ale robi to tak godnie i pięknie, że aż wzrusza; zatoczce na irańskiej wyspie Keszm, gdzie księżyc rozsrebrza noce tak bardzo, że wszystko wokół rzuca bajkowe cienie; ciekawskim mongolskim nomadom, którzy nalegają na wymianę numerów telefonów i prowadzenie przeuroczych w swojej dziwności mongolsko-polskich rozmów.

Nie czujemy się dobrze przed obiektywem, bo nie czujemy się go warci, kiedy dookoła dzieją się sceny, które powinniśmy rzeczywiście pokazywać.

Dlatego Kochani, mało nas widzicie na zdjęciach, ale to dlatego, że bardziej niż nasze malutkie osóbki, chcemy Wam pokazać wielki, przepiękny świat.

#portugal #portugalia #arrimal #serrasdeaireecandeeiros
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