Early in 2003 I was offered the oppertunity of a new life, a change of country, culture lifestyle and occupation
The new life was to be in Hungary, a country I knew little (or less) about, I knew it was in Europe, even in eastern Europe, but if you had handed me a map and asked me to stick a pin in it, the result would have caused me some embarrassment.
I spoke to some people wiser and more well travelled than myself, and heard stories of visits in the early 90’s and a country still recovering from years of soviet occupation. This filled me with a mix of dread and overwhelming excitement, and so the tickets were bought and off I went.
Hungary was and Is beautiful, I arrived in the summer to incredible heat and the sort of reddish light I didn’t think I would find in Europe eastern or otherwise, the farm I was living at (along with others) was the stuff of dreams, grape vines and paprika growing in the garden, lizards scooting down the dusty unpaved paths leading to the village.
The countryside and the nearby city were beautiful, (abandoned Russian mini village aside) and so far removed from what I was used to it seemed almost otherworldly . This was the right decision I thought.
A few days later I discovered to my horror that the job that I had moved to a strange country for had fallen through, I was devastated, but decided there and then I wasn’t leaving to tears and waves, and returning tail between legs in the space of a week. And so language barrier and all I went looking for work.
What I found was the most hilarious mix of jobs possible bearing in mind my lack of experience in either, what I got was work making traditional Hungarian wooden furniture (which I knew nothing about) under guidance from a master tradesman, later selling what we made at craft fares across eastern Europe, and when there was nothing to sell, teaching English to Hungarian university students freelance. (Without of the necessary qualifications).
It was the start of an eventful year in Hungary in which I discovered many things, the demise of Freddie the pig taught me that the rules of animal slaughter differ massively here to there, That there are some languages that a man just cant pick up fluently, that selling watermelons roadside, and corn on the cob beachside are perfectly normal in Hungary.
But the most important discoverywas that my beloved Teesside also has breathtaking beauty, that grey skies, the chemical work laden vista, heavy industry and our less hot and exotic beaches all have something oddly magical about them, maybe not in a traditional sense but beauty all the same, this eventually being one of the reasons I moved home.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
my gazette column
Mike Shotton is 32 and lives in Billingham. He works as a sound man for a film production company. His interests include music, preferably live, film, reading, travel, politics, following Boro and writing. This is his second week.
THERE are many events in life that need planning - holidays, funerals, and, of course, weddings.
Generally these events will go just as planned. In some cases there may be the odd glitch, things that didn’t go exactly according to plan, small details overlooked, but these can be dealt with.
Sometimes, however, things that we plan for days, weeks or even months can go so wildly astray of the mark that when the stuff hits the fan we’re forced to rely on the kindness of strangers and small miracles.
This was the case last weekend at a wedding - my best friend’s wedding.
It was taking place in Durham, at two riverside venues on the weekend that saw the worst floods the city has seen in more than 100 years.
The groom, myself (best man) and two ushers awoke and did the usual - grabbed breakfast (sausage, bacon and egg sandwiches) and headed for the venue of the wedding.
Crook Hall, a beautiful old building in breathtaking grounds, can be reached from only one road. This road was under around three feet of muddy flood water, leaving ourselves and the guests no way of reaching it for the wedding at 3pm. It was now 10.20am and that amount of water wasn’t shifting in those few hours.
The four of us tunnelled like intrepid explorers for what seemed like hours through bushes, shrubs and overgrown nettles to reach our destination and check on its condition. What we found was a worried owner making desperate calls to anyone who could clear the water, or get us there clean, dry and safely.
We headed to the reception venue to set up. It was a rowing club built on the banks of the river a few years ago to withstand the predicted, but early in arrival, 100-year flood. Well someone had got their calculations wrong as the club, along with its car park, looked like a white water rafting course.
The groom stood, in borrowed wellies, dejected and beaten in the car park, water rushing past his knees and higher. The club manager started making calls for a new venue, and we headed for the hotel to change, worried and wondering what the day would hold.
At 2.30pm we arrived in a nearby car park, suited and booted, and were greeted by wedding guests and a kind stranger who had volunteered to drive us all through the flood water in his tractor and trailer.
The wedding went swimmingly (pardon the pun) and shortly before 3.30pm we got a call from the rowing club to say that in the last hour the three feet of water had disappeared completely and no replacement venue was required. Now that’s a little miracle.
The day had gone exactly as planned in the end (tractor rides aside).
The moral of the story? Next time you’re hurling expletives at the tractor you’re stuck behind, remember they can turn out to be quite useful.
THERE are many events in life that need planning - holidays, funerals, and, of course, weddings.
Generally these events will go just as planned. In some cases there may be the odd glitch, things that didn’t go exactly according to plan, small details overlooked, but these can be dealt with.
Sometimes, however, things that we plan for days, weeks or even months can go so wildly astray of the mark that when the stuff hits the fan we’re forced to rely on the kindness of strangers and small miracles.
This was the case last weekend at a wedding - my best friend’s wedding.
It was taking place in Durham, at two riverside venues on the weekend that saw the worst floods the city has seen in more than 100 years.
The groom, myself (best man) and two ushers awoke and did the usual - grabbed breakfast (sausage, bacon and egg sandwiches) and headed for the venue of the wedding.
Crook Hall, a beautiful old building in breathtaking grounds, can be reached from only one road. This road was under around three feet of muddy flood water, leaving ourselves and the guests no way of reaching it for the wedding at 3pm. It was now 10.20am and that amount of water wasn’t shifting in those few hours.
The four of us tunnelled like intrepid explorers for what seemed like hours through bushes, shrubs and overgrown nettles to reach our destination and check on its condition. What we found was a worried owner making desperate calls to anyone who could clear the water, or get us there clean, dry and safely.
We headed to the reception venue to set up. It was a rowing club built on the banks of the river a few years ago to withstand the predicted, but early in arrival, 100-year flood. Well someone had got their calculations wrong as the club, along with its car park, looked like a white water rafting course.
The groom stood, in borrowed wellies, dejected and beaten in the car park, water rushing past his knees and higher. The club manager started making calls for a new venue, and we headed for the hotel to change, worried and wondering what the day would hold.
At 2.30pm we arrived in a nearby car park, suited and booted, and were greeted by wedding guests and a kind stranger who had volunteered to drive us all through the flood water in his tractor and trailer.
The wedding went swimmingly (pardon the pun) and shortly before 3.30pm we got a call from the rowing club to say that in the last hour the three feet of water had disappeared completely and no replacement venue was required. Now that’s a little miracle.
The day had gone exactly as planned in the end (tractor rides aside).
The moral of the story? Next time you’re hurling expletives at the tractor you’re stuck behind, remember they can turn out to be quite useful.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
films films films innit!!! city of god and eichman
HI de ho mothercrushers!!
A lots been cracking in the last like month or whatever!!
I caught oasis, kasabian and the enemy (and reverend and the makers) but they were gash.. i mean are!! generally, not a dig at them live more them generally!
Anyway im getting sidetracked, i wanted to tell y'all i just renewed a long expired blockbuster membership (dvd rental) And my gosh 5 dvds for 5 nights.. what a score! none of them new release obviously at that price.. anywhere between 6 months and flippin years old.. but the selection spans everything from blockbusters to world cinema ... so yesterday holding my membership card like the key to a treasure layden tomb i surveyed all that layed before me.. decided 5 for 5 was the way to go.. and picked out my magic 5
*eichman
*city of god
*capote
*the kite runner
and juno
I can only tell you about the 2 ive watched namely city of god and eichman.. had a lazy day today so i shovled them in one after the other like a film glutton.
CITY OF GOD
Is one of those films i should have seen years ago, but events conspired against me in a cruel way at the cinema and then upon its dvd release years ago.. then eventually lists you wrote with must see's etc get lost and you discover new directors, and new films are released sadly you kind forget about them, until somoene mentions it as a fave or in this case you discover it for rental cheap as an amputee sex worker.
I have no idea why im letting anyone know about city of god as im all too aware its had massive aclaim for like 8 years or sumething and i may well be the last film lover to see it... nut incase anyone else hasnt tho..
Its a masterpiece of story telling and cinematography set in a ghetto city nnot far from rio, telling the stories really of 2 generations of hoods (career criminals) through the eyes of a young boy uninvolved but still in danger in his out of control city , the extent of violence and apparent total lack of respect for life like the cinematography, is breathtaking... weigh up the story, the backdrop of a brazilian slum, the rise and fall of a couple of all be it small (city scale) crime empires, and the afore mentioned boys hunger to get out and become an unlikely famous photographer and youve about got the measure of it... if you havnt seen it you really should.
and
EICHMAN
As you may have guessed this is a film about adolf eichman, top ranking nazi and over seer of the final solution, a heavy subject for a tuesday evening, but handled with skill, the charactures (real people i know) are engaging, and that in some way stops you feeling like youve been through an ordeal by the films end. The film is set in israel in the mid 60's where Eichman stood trial for crimes against humanity and the jewish people and was eventualy hung. The film captures the period perfectly.. It is essentially in film form the interviews had between eichman and the man charged with getting a confesion from him, with flashbacks ( all be it long ones) to the horific events being discussed, along with the intense adversity faced by the interviewer and his young family from the israeli masses, for atemting to put a nazi on trial, rather than heading straight for execution.
An intense and compeling if at times harowing film, recounting a horific time in history, but done with sufficient skill in all departments that it doesnt feel like you are watching the history channel (though id like that too)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
