Yugoslavian Airlines ( Jugoslovenski Avio Transport ) - JAT

It was a sunny day in March of 1990 when I took off from Belgrade "Surcin" airport to Toronto. Cannot remember JAT flight number (although I am sure that I still have somewhere that old airline paper ticket!), but it was DC-10 aircraft. Those were good days for JAT, also dubbed as “Joke About Time”, but known for the finest and best trained pilots and crews in the world. It was not obvious then, that it was actually counting its last days of fame. Soon, the UN economic sanctions against, what was left of the Yugoslavia, came into effect, and as the rest of economy JAT was struggling to stay alive, started renting its fleet and crew to foreign countries. Airport "Surcin" was shut down to international flights, sad but true, for at one time world class city with the world class airline, travelers were boarding buses to be driven to Budapest, Hungary (some 300 km away - or around 5 hours on the bus) or Sofia, Bulgaria (around the same distance) to fly to their destinations. The point of departure was in front of downtown hotel “Slavija”. At any time day or night, one could see groups of tired people with large suitcases, waiting to board the bus, or minibus that will take them to the place from where they will be able to fly. I was among them just one time, in September of 1993, leaving Belgrade to fly out from Budapest via Berlin, on Lufthansa flight to Toronto (with the transfer in Munich); a very long journey for the modern day aviation, especially when flying from the European capital.

It has been now 15 years since sanctions were lifted, but not much progress has been made for the national airline. Yes, it changed its logo, twice. Once to show the name “Yugoslav Airlines”, second time to hide the word “Yugoslav”, where “Y” is actually “J”, because of differences in spelling, in the word Jat.

Yes, it started flying around Europe and other international destinations, but it never flew over Atlantic again. For us who live on this side of the world it means changing the planes in one of the European hubs: London, Paris, Prague, Munich, Frankfurt, Amsterdam. The choice depends which airline has "seat sale". Some complain that passengers flying to the certain places are treated as "cattle", sent to the most uncomfortable terminals to board the aircraft that will take them to their final destination. This may be open for discussion. I personally had both experiences, and not enough flying to determine whether this is true or not. It is maybe matter of perception, but our perception is our reality.

With the loss of my country, I lost the airline, too. The airline which brought me here, now renamed “Jat Airways”, easily mistaken for “Jet Airways”, major Indian airline company. The acronym Jat still has original word in it - "Yugoslav", although the country does not exist anymore. There was some discussion about renaming it differently, but it seems that by keeping the old name, I guess the airline is clinging to the old fame. But those days are long gone by. With the old fleet, depleted assets, next to bankrupt finances, the future of the airline is unknown. We all know that Jat Airways is not the only airline in the world that is struggling, and it is in a good company of Alitalia (another national carrier that needs to be bailed out), and other, around the world airlines, which went bankrupt, or were swallowed by larger and stronger ones.

But what is the sad part of this story is not the reality that airlines are facing these days: the rise in fuel costs, more expensive airport security, more taxes and less passengers who are willing to pay astronomical airfares, the rise of low budget, low cost airlines, and growing army of very unhappy, grumpy passengers. I am sad for different reason. I not only lost the country where I was born, but I lost the airline that brought me here. I had chance to fly only one more transatlantic flight with JAT. It was in October of 1991. The time of Vukovar siege, the height of nationalistic euphoria, only few months before UN economic sanctions shut down Belgrade airport and expelled JAT from the world flying scene. JAT, as we knew it, no more. The airline we grew to love and trust gradually started disappearing from the world radar, just as the country that was her home.

Jat Airways, who knows, maybe they will fly again over mighty Atlantic, but before that they will have to replace their fleet with the newer aircraft that will be safe to fly with. Until then, next time flight to Belgrade will be a long one, exhausting one, with change of planes, going through security couple more times, boarding another plane that will bring me to the place I once called home, the place that I left flying with one of the finest airlines in the world - JAT!

What would happen if you disconnect from the world of technology?

Seriously? Would anyone care? Would the Earth stop moving, because you did not update your Facebook status, or reply the the e mail, or check the latest news? What would happen if you disappear from the Internet for a little while? Are you afraid that no one will notice, and that your presence is insignificant to the lives of others? Maybe?

If we know that it is not so good for us,why we do not think more about how to get rid of this time consuming and time wasting, for our survival totally unnecessary activity? Is it because we are lonely? Some will argue that the more narcissistic you are, the more you will want others to know about you and admire you, so you will be posting things on the Facebook, that will show your persona as cool, trendy, upbeat, creative, and the more "likes" you get, the more food for your ego. But is it that simple? I am flirting with the idea of getting disconnected from the technology, or better to say, part of the technology that I am using for the entertainment, for some time now. I have few reasons for that. Number one, I would like to be a role model for my son, who is spending way too much time on the computer. Two, I would like to have more time for "soul surfing" and finding out what is that exactly what is holding me back, and making me feel depressed at times. Three, I would like to clear my mind for my own ideas and creativity. Four, and so on... I am sure you have your own list of the reasons to quit.

However, this may be harder than you and I have ever thought. Why? For starters, I have at any time at least one computer in my home on. It is hard to quit smoking if the cigarettes are all over the place. Second, even if I turn it off, I will think of the reason why should I put it on ( like I need a recipe, or I have to check the e mail to see if someone important e mailed, or I need to check directions on Google Earth ). Yes, I am very sneaky! So once I am online, the first thing will be to suppress the urge to go on the Facebook, and the longer I hold that urge, the stronger it gets... Bang:

So what are you going to do to save your soul from this menace? Any suggestions? Maybe something similar to AA's 12 step program? Or maybe disconnecting can be easy as 1-2-3 only if you are motivated? I am sending this question to the Universe: How do you become the whole again once you exposed all of you, or all of you want to be you, on the Facebook?

Disconnect now!

It is October, already!

Yesterday was the very last day of September. It is truly unbelievable how this month flew for me. Today I woke up realizing that autumn is here, big time. Although I say I love autumn, because of the most beautiful colors that it paints in Ontario, I love summer more, and I already miss it. I love going to Georgian Bay. My faves: Balm Beach before the fence was built, Awenda Provincial Park, beach number 3, before 5 pm, beach number 4 to enjoy the sunset.

Also, this summer I went to Belgrade and, among other things, had a couple of beautiful beach outings, with my son, to Ada Ciganlija. What I like about going to the beach in Belgrade is that in Belgrade you can have a beer on the beach, unlike here. It really is a bonus, sitting in the shade, on the beach chair, with your feet in the water, drinking cold beer and reading, for example, some trashy Belgrade newspaper, such as "Kurir".




Anyway, now memories of Belgrade look like much better when filtered though the time that passed since I came back. Actually, I was almost sick for a month after I came back. Not really sick, but sick from too much emotions that I cannot digest anymore. As if I was sucked in the black hole, and came back.

Belgrade looks perfect to me now, from the safe distance. What I noticed this time is the fact that I just do not belong there. That's it. But, this being said, I have to mention that my love for Belgrade is really strange one. I love you my beautiful Belgrade, but I do not miss you, not anymore - how about that!

Duncan and the seagull

Today, I will open the window and show you the sky, the sea, the boat, the boater, the piper, and one man's final destination. The story will tell itself in a moment, but you have to pay attention to the seagull, flying with its wings still, soaring the skies, as if he came to the picture to show the presence of the man's spirit, the one whose ashes were about to be thrown in the wind, from the boat, about one and half mile away from the shore. It was a perfect day for the funeral. The day before big storm was coming the boat's way. The piper was the last minute addition. The day before he was happily piping during the cocktail party at the lawn of the local mansion turned into small hotel. It was oysters and champagne party. She, the lady who was about to bury her husband at the sea, took a notice of the piper. His name was Duncan. Her thoughts went back to the time when her late husband's face all lit up in the nursing home, with all his memory lost, but remembered the music when the piper showed up. Duncan was more than willing to come and join the small crew of the boater, the lady, and the minister who will not be able to attend because in the sequence of events, the funeral had to be preformed right away. The storm was coming, and the boater knew that if they do not do it on that day, that late afternoon, they would have to delay it for weeks. So the story goes, telling itself, and you are looking through the window to catch the glimpse of the sea, the boat, the seagull, the piper. "MacCrimmon Will Never Return"

"No more, no more, no more returning;
In peace nor in war is he returning;
Till dawns the great day of doom and burning,
MacCrimmon is home no more returning.

The breeze of the bens is gently blowing;
The brooks in the glens are softly flowing;
Where boughs their darkest shades are throwing,
Birds mourn for thee who ne'er returnest."

And there it was: the sound of the pipes, the sight of the seagull soaring the skies, the boat, not very big one sitting on the bed of sea, awaiting the big storm, the boater, the piper, the lady, and one perfect day for the the ashes of the man to be returned home.

The rain washed out the protest

The picture I took while on my lunch break, on Thursday, June 24. Native Protest. Chanting was: "I stole the Native Land."

Happiness

The happiness comes in little bits and pieces. Like memory sketches of times that in retrospect look better than they felt in real time. Or anticipation of the event we believe will bring us joy. But it is always elusive. The moment you believe you are happy , you start worrying about not being happy anymore when that moment passes. As if present happiness is only achievable when you can totally forget about past and future. But your mind will play tricks on you. It will be almost impossible to continue being happy. Happiness is just a moment in time. It is so expensive to be happy that it makes me wonder how to find happiness in not being happy. Like, I know I am not the best I could be NOW, but I see the potential, and although I am NOT happy, I am happy that I can change and undertake that journey of transformation. Enjoy it and be part of process, Being happy in unhappiness. Pushing yourself to the limits. Achieving in transformation. Happiness is just a dream.

Wedding at St. Lawrence Market

And with permission of Andrej Acin I am publishing this photo here. Thanks to him I found out that this was not a real wedding. It was promotional campaign for travel agency :)



The building that houses St. Lawrence Market was first built in 1831, but burnt down in 1849, only to be rebuilt in 1850 as St. Lawrence Hall, that stands in its place until today. There is some magic around old buildings. Their walls and floors emit the energy of all the times the building has been living in. If you tune in, you can sense old and new times, you can hear steps of those walking those floors decades ago, or you can smell the smells and hear the sounds of the times long gone by. But yesterday, there was more to St. Lawrence Market than just food. In between two meat counters, beside tables where people were eating their take out breakfast/lunch, there was a beautiful scene, almost like from the movie. The bride in old fashioned bridal gown, with tiara, and bouquet of silk large roses, dark pink colour, the groom with the baloon flower in his taxedo, bride's maid in beautiful pink dress (absolutely beautiful pink). And then, the opera singer appear, with knitted red scarf, singing arias from Carmen and other operas... For a moment time stopped and felt as if we all were on the big cloud surrounded with bubbles.




Yes, bride and groom were giving away tiny bottles to blow bubbles. I will call this picture in my mental photo album: Wedding at St. Lawrence Market. Long live bride and groom. They for sure are creative!