The sunbathed island surrounded by turquoise water and white beaches promised a fantastic stay for a run down city dweller.

    From my hotel room by the seaside I could see a marvelous mountain with forest covered slopes which so charmingly tempted the visitors to climb to its not too high top. I decided that I would treck my way to the top right after breakfast.

  So, having finished my savory breakfast, i packed my rucksack and directed my steps towards the mountain admiring the lavish vegetation on my way. 

   Time went by almost unnoticed. Soon it was noon and I was about half way to the top. It never occured to my traffic fumes fogged mind, that such a climb would be pure torture for my feet. My pained feet just destroyed the adventurous mood of my outing. I just had to sit down in the shade and let my feet cool off.

   A short distance away, I spotted a big tree offering me the so needed shade and resting ground as there was lovely green grass arond the tree and a light breeze played among the tree tops. I limped to the shade and rested my tormented body on the cool green grass.

  I was just about to take out my pen knife and engrave my initials on the tree trunk when I caught the sight of something that looked like an alien flying saucer make a bee line towards me. It was not what I expected to see on that mountain slope.

  The alien saucer stopped a couple of feed away from me and I tried to pull our my camera from the rucksac but my fingers were too shake to perform that. A doorway on one side of the flying saucer opened, and an emabarrassed cyber voice asked -

Excuse me, earthling, do happen to have some spare toilet paper? 

   I was too surprised and dumbstruck to say anything. I reached into my rucksack and took out a roll of toilet paper and handed it to the waiting cyber hand. The hand took it and started to withdraw when it stopped as if something came to its cyber mind. The hand unrolled about 1/3 of the total toilet paper length and handed it to me. An almost human voice said:

- Just in case!

and the saucer zoomed out of sight. 

  Yeah, you are right, and I zoomed back to the hotel and spent the rest of my stay in a more civilised way.

Here's what I found in my inbox from my cousin in Canada!

Fast car. Sharp bend. Unhappy end.

Life story. Memento mori for drivers, especially young ones. 

Oi there

      I would like to challenge Eric’s challenge, but I’ll do it in free style, neither American nor British style.

      First of all, I really don’t think that “challenge” is interchangeable with “fear”, these two words pertain to two, radically different dimensions, something challenging does not have to evoke fear, it does not really have to be associated with fear. To my humble thinking, something challenging calls for a higher level of skill, agility, knowledge or other personal features, not necessarily demanding courage which is needed to overcome the fear gripping the heart of somebody engaged in the said dangerous challenge.  

     Coming to the crux of our “challenge” issue, the “fear” that is supposed to be replaceable also has its ambiguous ambivalence. The fear involved in the challenge can be of variable intensity or fatality. Let’s imagine a trip through the Mojave Desert, it is challenging and the fear of dying of thirst and sun stroke in the Death Valley cannot be rated at the same level as the fear involved in the challenge of making an excursion in the everglades of Florida, although in both cases it can end with a funeral ceremony….hmmmm…although the everglade challenge may not leave a physical body to be de facto buried as it may be undergoing the process of digesting in the belly of some gator which was smart  enough not to hit the Mojave Desert trial trail.

    Methinks that it would also be worthwhile to ponder a bit over the not so dramatic scenarios of challenge and fear. This time I suggest we picture a different situation where the challenge involves other types of fear – nobody’s imputing that the intensity of the fear is lesser then the fears  mentioned above. How challenging it is to stay a bit longer in the pub with some mates and down a couple more pints of beer while at the same time trying to belittle the fear of what may encounter us as we swagger into our home some hours past midnight. This can only be compared to the fear associated with the challenge of a mission flight, the imminent and unavoidable ravages may not be equally fatal, but the intensity of fright is much on the same level. Although I know a couple of guys who’d rather be shot down than face their first ladies in their night make-up.

    So, to make a final conclusion - To challenge somebody is to dare him do something, it can be something trivial or something frightful. We can challenge others in many spheres of our mundane existence, yet fear is quite a different feeling…. It gnaws at our hearts for many reasons – we may fear that our words could hurt the feelings of somebody, especially if that body is dear to us; we may fear for the wellbeing of our friends or beloved ones and in many cases fear is a live saving factor… Actually the ancient Greeks invented  something like “phobia” to talk about fear… some have them, others just invent names for them.

   Nevertheless, it’s quite challenging to tackle our phobias..no matter what they might be. 

Oi there folks, 

             Some time ago, when I came back from the health resort, I complained to my cousin in Canada how life seems to have take a turn for the worse, and here is what he sent me to make me feel better - sorry, I have no idea where he got this cool text from, nor who is the witty author.

 AND THEN IT IS WINTER  

You know ... time has a way of moving quickly and catching you unaware of the passing years. It seems just yesterday that I was young, just married and embarking on my new life with my mate. Yet in a way, it seems like eons ago, and I wonder where all the years went. I know that I lived them all. I have glimpses of how it was back then and of all my hopes and dreams.

      But, here it is... the back nine of my life and it catches me by surprise...How did I get here so fast? Where did the years go and where did my youth go? 

      I remember well seeing older people through the years and thinking that those older people were years away from me and that I was only on the first hole and the back nine was so far off that I could not fathom it or imagine fully what it would be like. 

      But, here it is...my friends are retired and getting gray...they move slower and I see an older person now. Some are in better and some worse shape than me...but, I see the great change...Not like the ones that I remember who were young and vibrant...but, like me, their age is beginning to show and we are now those older folks that we used to see and never thought we'd become.

       Each day now, I find that just getting a shower is a real target for the day! And taking a nap is not a treat anymore... it's mandatory! Cause if I don't on my own free will... I just fall asleep where I sit!

        And so...now I enter into this new season of my life unprepared for all the aches and pains and the loss of strength and ability to go and do things that I wish I had done but never did!! But, at least I know, that though Im on the back nine, and I'm not sure how long it will last...this I know, that when it's over on this earth...it's over. A new adventure will begin! Yes, I have regrets. There are things I wish I hadn't done...things I should have done, but indeed, there are many things I'm happy to have done. It's all in a lifetime.

        So, if you're not on the back nine yet...let me remind you, that it will be here faster than you think. So, whatever you would like to accomplish in your life please do it quickly! Don't put things off too long!! Life goes by quickly. So, do what you can today, as you can never be sure whether youre on the back nine or not!

       You have no promise that you will see all the seasons of your life...so, live for today and say all the things that you want your loved ones to remember...and hope that they appreciate and love you for all the things that you have done for them in all the years past!!

       "Life" is a gift to you. The way you live your life is your gift to those who come after. Make it a fantastic one. LIVE IT WELL! ENJOY TODAY! DO SOMETHING FUN! BE HAPPY ! HAVE A GREAT DAY Remember "It is health that is real wealth and not pieces of gold and silver. LIVE HAPPY IN 2014!

 LASTLY, CONSIDER THIS:

~Your kids are becoming you......but your grandchildren are perfect!

~Going out is good.. Coming home is better!

~You forget names.... But it's OK because some people forgot they even knew you!!!

~You realize you're never going to be really good at anything like golf.

~The things you used to care to do, you aren't as interested in anymore, but you really do care that you aren't as interested.

~You sleep better on a lounge chair with the TV 'ON' than in bed. It's called "pre-sleep".

~You miss the days when everything worked with just an "ON" and "OFF" switch..

~You tend to use more 4 letter words .. "what?"..."when?"... ???

~You notice everything they sell in stores is "sleeveless"?!!!

~What used to be freckles are now liver spots.

~Everybody whispers.

~You have 3 sizes of clothes in your closet.... 2 of which you will never wear.

 ~~~But Old is good in some things: Old Songs, Old movies, and best of all, OLD FRIENDS!!

TODAY IS THE OLDEST YOU'VE EVER BEEN, YET THE YOUNGEST YOU'LL EVER BE, SO ENJOY THIS DAY WHILE IT LASTS.

 Today, while rummaging through the drawers of my desk, I came across this witty grammatical pun:

We’ll begin with box; the plural is boxes,

But the plural of ox is oxen, not oxes,

One fowl is a goose, and two are called geese,

Yet the plural of moose is never called meese.

You may find a lone mouse or a house full of mice,

But the the plural of house is houses, not hice,

The plural of man is always men,

But the plural of pan is never pen.

If I speak of a foot, and you show me two feet,

And I give you a book, would a pair be a beek?

If one is a tooth and a whole set are teeth,

Why shouldn’t  two booths be called beeth?

If the singular’s this and the plural is these,

Should the plural of kiss be ever called kese?

We speak of a brother and also of brethren,

But though we say mother, we never say methren.

Then the masculine pronouns are he, his and  him,

But imagine the feminine…she, shis and shim!

                                           - ANONYMOUS-

LOL… I hope I managed to encourage you to put some more “elbow grease” [hard work]

into your sincere endeavour to learn the English language.

          A long, long time ago, over seven seas, seven mountains and seven rivers in the ancient land of Elam, somewhere between Anshan and Susa or maybe even farther, lived a young Prince in his magnificent castle overlooking picturesque valleys with blue skies high above and white clouds lazily floating in the warm wind blowing over green fields where rivers used to run.

    He was the happiest person on earth for he had met the love of his life. Not so long ago he had married the most wonderful woman a mortal could wish for. They were enchanted with each other,  sharing the same mystical, mutual love.

    Shielded by the guiding hand of the One above, they cherished a life full of devotion and love. Each day seemed to be created only for them. The birds in the splendid gardens seemed to sing only about their love, even the flowers bloomed to fill their profound love with their sweet aroma and the carpets of green grass were there just to make their stroll as soft as it was only possible.

   It seemed that nothing could ever mar such a glorious and impeccable love. Then came a day when dark, evil clouds engulfed the Prince’s life in anguish and grief. His beloved one was snatched from him to the land of no return.  His heart was shattered into myriads of painful memories, his soul was guttered by the flames of despair and loneliness. His grief was so overwhelming that everything around him irritated him. The constant chirping of the birds annoyed him, the flowers seemed to have faded and lost all their aroma, getting on his way wherever he went and the soft grass only entrapped his footsteps.

    In the midst of his torment, the Prince once again manly stood up to face his fate and took a decision: I shall build the most magnificent monument of our love. Having said so, the Prince called his chief architect and ordered him to built a shrine-like tomb to hold the earthly remains of his Love, which he confined in an ebony black wood sarcophagus adorned with gold and gems.

    His youthful imagination and creativity make him use sharp contrasts in the architectural forms, with colours of vivid, if not gaudy tones. But as years went by, his mood changed and the structural forms became more placid and the tones more serene.

    When the Prince’s beard became almost as white as the cloud puffs high above in the sky, and the features of his royal face more mature, the monument of his Love was finally complete. The Prince looked at it with satisfaction and his heart was once again happy.

    Then the Prince called his chief architect and said: Would you please remove that awful black box, it spoils the magnificent interior décor………. 

Noa’s post about that lovely Malay legend  fired my envy to such a great extent that I decide to post a fable which my Mom told me in my early teens.  Here I feel obliged to warn the readers that this fable has its roots in the old Persian legends and myths, which my Mom translated form Farsi into Polish and as time went mercilessly by, most words faded out in the haze of distant days, and only the main thread remained vivid in the eyes of my mind, therefore I shall take the liberty to write it in my own words, not always matching the elegant flamboyance of  the ones my Mom used.  Ready?  Steady…here it goes…

    Eons ago, ever since the homo sapiens started sullying Mother Earth with their nefarious existence, there would always be some skeptic hardcore ready to pop out with a challenge to  oppugn all accepted and prevailing dogmas, beliefs and what- nots in the name of sacrosanct quest for the one and only irrefutable Truth.

      Evolution was no step-mother to mankind, it generously, if not with gleeful wantonness,  bestowed it with almost unlimited creativeness, abysmal imagination and fathomless curiosity,   especially in the field of constructing lethal tools. Imagination was the main cause that Truth gained such a vast arsenal of definitions and expected attributes. As society and customs developed, Truth became ever more burdened with attributes people expected, or even  blatantly demanded it to manifest. Some people were even ready to put on their war paints to defend their Truth.  The further evolution developed, the worse it got. I mean, the acquisition of sophisticated knowledge in one field, made people go completely blind in other fields, or something like that.  So many scholastic theories about Truth came to be, that it was a real philosophical jungle, to say the least.

   In the ancient and wonderful land of Elam, somewhere between Anshan and Samarkanda, but most probably somewhere else,  a young and ambitious Prince thought to himself – Jeziz kerist, basta, ya baba jan… I shall no longer stand all this gibberish about khanome Truth. [hmmm… I wonder why in so many cultures, Truth is of feminine gender?]  After a short reflection, the noble and brave Prince took up a final decision –  I shall find Truth no matter where she abides, even should I have to pay for it through my royal, Sasanid nose [although it may as well have been a Seleuki nose]. Having taken up such a laudable decision, off he set in his shining armour, mounted on a magnificent, white stallion, ready to stand up to any odds that fate may fling at him.

    Being brought up in a loving family among minion courtiers, the Prince could not have the slightest idea what atrocities brutal fate had in store for him. [Ahhhhhh..blissful ignorance]. Although stormy seas of destiny roughed him up with little respect to his blue blood, and unfavourable winds of fate tried to push him astray from his course, not once did he feel like driftwood, his goal was set like a bright star in trouble ridden dark skies. How many a times he managed to escaped death by the skin of his teeth, only his Guardian Angel knew. Even when crossing the turbulent and foamy river Ob Amma he suffered the loss of his faithful horse, his will and defiance never wavered. When attacked by ruthless, gorge bushmen, having no other  means of defence, the proud Prince fenced them off with his royal shoes. The Prince’s aim was so viper fast and deadly that they were not able to duck.

    Wherever the Prince would set his royal foot, be it a grand palace, a sky-high castle or splendid towns, he could witness anything  a mortal could imagine, everything.. but Truth. Yet, even a royal person is human inside. With time the Prince felt that his persistence and die-hard attitude were gradually starting to abandon his brave and noble heart. [how much roughing up can a mortal take, ironman was not on screen yet] On his way yet to another castle in a distant land, the Prince encountered a desolate, almost fallen into ruin grand manor surrounded by thorny trees and evil looking plants. To his great surprise, he saw a faint light in one of the windows and languidly footed his way there. Once inside the room, the Prince saw an old woman, in shabby robes sitting on a rocking chair by a meager fireplace. Having nothing better to do, the Prince mustered all good manners still left in his possession and asked – Lady, who da dickens are you, if I make take the liberty to ask? The woman turned her haggard, yet bearing indisputably noble features face and stoically replied in a surprisingly young and strong  voice – I am Truth.

    And then hell broke loose. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, the last drop that overfilled the goblet of bitterness. The Prince felt much like a man run over by a column of heavy tanks, moreover, the driver of the last tank got out and kicked him where it hurts most.

    The Prince felt completely flabbergasted, dumbstruck and mentally devastated. With a blank look In his royal eyes, his face frozen in a mask of  undescribable disbelief, he managed to croak out – Caramba, what shall I tell the folks back home, ha???

    The old woman stoop up from her comfortable seat, came up to the crumbled figure of the Prince,  stood towering over him, and calmly said – Son, why don’t you simply lie, HA?

   Oh yes, life is really cruel and brutal, it surely isn’t a rose garden, but then, as I said earlier – even were it a rose garden, there still would be much more thorns than roses, no?

     When engineer Zbigniew was called to count for his earthly deeds in the heavenly Court, his son’s [from here onwards called Engison] world was shattered to pieces like a crystal vase, literally and figuratively speaking.

    Engison felt much like a victim of a mega catastrophe, as if a tornado-earthquake-tsunami combo pounced on him out of the blue, ripping apart and rocking the fundaments of his short life -  drowning what remained  of it in sorrow and anguish. His mom, Tina, was the only life-buoy he could cling to in the foam crested,  turbulent waves of the oncoming storm. For an eleven years old boy, the future looked pretty much dreary and bleak. [guys, pass on some tissue, otherwise the cascade of tears will wreak havoc in the electrics of my keyboard – LOL- ok, ok, let’s continue the namby-pamby thread]

     For Engison and Tina things went from bad to worse. Tina decided to move from their comfortable apartment to a single room in the basement of the lodging house [called by the tenants – the dungeon] in a desperate effort to keep Engison in the private school he was attending.  There is no need to explain that the “dungeon” was the living quarters of less affluent tenants and staff of the lodging house. Enigson and Tina’s new abode was situated at the end of a dark, narrow corridor with a lingering odor of dampness. There was no individual toilet or bathroom in their new hearth. They had to use the communal facilities. They could not relish the nice view of the city from their windows with a spacious balcony they had in their previous apartment for the simple reason that there were no windows. [well, fellas, how do you like that, even Bronte could not come up with such a picture of misery and desperation]

    As their situation tended to deteriorate rather than ameliorate [lol, uncle google translator in use, huh?] Tina ‘s letters written to her mom, who at that time was working in Kuwait for the American Mission Hospital as head midwife, became grief loaded day by day, Engison’s granny, Natasha, started encouraging Tina to come to Kuwiat, assuring her that she would get a good  job there and Engison would be able to continue his education. When Tina showed some kind of reluctance, granny Natia hurridly sent a letter where the chief doctor of the hospital pledged to personally see that Tina would get a job and Engison would be sent to college.

   It took two years, until Engison finished primary school, and no hopes for a better future, to make Tina take up a final decision. Armed with the written pledge from the hospital, Tina started  to use all her wit and  personal charm to rise enough financial support to get the trip to Kuwait arranged. The company where Engison’s dad worked surprisingly enough showed a lot of empathy towards Tina, who also used to work there, and wrote out a handsome cheque. Tina also found support from the nuns running a girl’s school where Tine used to teach basic French and drawing, actually, Enigson started his primary education in that girls’ school. [lucky lil’ squirt – can you guys imagine that, a whole class full of girls and that urchin the only male around, all the staff there was female, except for the gardener and the dog named Cachorro, which means dog in portuguese, LOL]  The rest of the needed sum was contributed by granny Natia, doubtlessly with a significant donation from the hospital.

    In the mean time, Engison was desperately trying to get some information about that Kuwait. One must remember that at that time there was no internet and uncle google where one could get all the needed information at one click.  The information that Engison was able to get did not make him leap with joy. [I shall refrain from telling what the information said about Kuwait, as not to offend any eventual Kuwaiti ec members, but believe me, there was nothing to be happy about, expect that it was a british dependency with  no rivers, lakes, forests…..only sand and petroleum. Aha…and up to 50degC in summer. ]

     By and by, everything was arranged, packed and ready to go. Tina and Engison embarked on a French transatlantic liner named Provance and  in mid june 1957 they departed from Rio de Janeiro.

   Tina and Engison stood on the deck of the liner watching the outline of the Corcovado disappear in the horizon.

  Engison was full of hope, yet some irrational doubt squeezed his heart in an icy grip…what lies ahead of him… another storm or…..

    [to be continued]

   The Grand Mansion in Kozłówka was built circa 1742 by the Magnate Zamoyiski's family. It is one of the best preserved old mansions in Poland and it is highly ranked in Europe for its original interior decor, stylish furniture and paintings. The Kozłówka village lies some 32km from Lublin and its geographic situation, away from main roads, saved it from serious damage during the two World Wars.

  At the back of the mansion there is a beautiful park with very old trees, lanes, ponds and season gardens, which are a big attraction for the visitors.