Sydney is hot. Over the weekend, Ourania, the Goddess of Summer sent her winds howling down the eastern coast of this island continent and announced her arrival like the Queen of Sheba.
With the heat, seeds burst, flowers bloomed and the insects and animals came crawling out of their winter slumber and the air was filled with an excitement as if the world had organised a grand welcoming party for the sun.
My thoughts travel to Ljubljana. It's summer 2001 and the beginning of my time of absence. Leaving a dark and windy Sydney, I arrive in the middle of a full blown heat wave.
No matter where you are, summer always smells the same. I am not sure what it is, what neurones are released or what senses are enlivened, but the smell of summer always evokes a nostalgia for me.
Summer in Europe is a paganistic celebration that bows to the god Dionysus. It's three months of rebirth, wine and intoxication.
Even in little Ljubljana, a city of no more than 270,000, the drinking, the intoxication and the celebration is coupled with an unquenchable thirst for praznik - festival.
One particular festival which has occurred every year since 1992 is Trnfest held at a community cultural centre named after the country's iconic poet France Preseren.
Without the limitations of archaic liquor licensing or entertainment laws, a festival takes place in the back streets of Ljubljana where the young and the young at heart come together in the one venue to see theatre and dance, look at art work and dance to a line-up of bands, DJ's and musicians.
It's the smell of bursting flowers, of a green canopy of trees lining the city, of afternoon beers watching the world go by. It's the smell of comfortable heat, of anticipation, of roasted corn, of sweat and it all dances to the beat of celebration.
Nostalgia is a beautiful thing. Here's to summer.
0 comments:
Post a Comment