MALAQUINHA AND KITTY (THE VERY SAD LOVE STORY OF A STREET AND A DOMESTIC CAT)

A drama inspired by a Saturday morning breakfast on the terrace.

(May Shakespeare forgive me!)

CHARACTERS :Malaquinha, the young and cool street cat of the neighbourhood;

Kitty, the young and most beautiful domestic cat of the neighbourhood;

 With the appearance of Fluffinda, the old and meanest female cat of the neighbourhood;

 

Malaquinha

(coming back from a fight)

He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

[Kitty appears above on a tree.]

But soft, what light through yonder branches breaks?
It is the east and Kitty is the sun!
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious Fluffinda,
Who is already sick and pale with grief
That thou her maid art far more fair than she.
Be not her maid, since she is envious;
Her feline fur is but sick and grey,
And none but old stray cat do wear it. Cast it off.
It is my lady, O, it is my love!
O that she knew she were!
She miaows, yet she purrs nothing; what of that?
Her eye discourses, I will answer it.
I am too bold: 'tis not to me she purrs.
(...)
See how she leans her cheek upon her paw 
O that I were some dirt upon that paw,
That I might touch that whiskers!
Kitty
Ay miaow!
Malaquinha 
She miaows.
O, miaow again, bright feline, for thou art
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head,
As is a winged messenger of cat's heaven.

(...)

Kitty
O Malaquinha, Malaquinha! wherefore art thou Malaquinha? 
Deny thy pack and refuse thy name;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a domestic cat.

Malaquinha
[Aside.] Shall I hear more, or shall I miaow at this?

Kitty 
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy:
Thou art thyself, though not a Street Cat.
What's Street Cat? It is nor paw, nor claw,
Nor whisker, nor tail, nor any other part
Belonging to a cat. O, be some other name.
What's in a name? That which we call a sardine 
By any other name would smell as sweet;
So Malaquinha would, were he not Malaquinha call'd,
Retain that dear perfection which he owes
Without that title. Malaquinha, doff thy name,
And for that name, which is no part of thee, (50)
Take all myself.

Malaquinha
I take thee at thy miaow.
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptis'd;
Henceforth I never will be Malaquinha.

Kitty
What cat art thou that, thus bescreened in night,
So stumblest on my counsel?

Malaquinha
By a name
I know not how to tell thee who I am:
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,
Because it is an enemy to thee.

Kitty
My ears have yet not drunk a hundred words
Of thy tongue's uttering, yet I know the sound.
Art thou not Malaquinha, and a Street Cat?

Malaquinha 
Neither, fair pussy, if either thee dislike.

Kitty
How cam'st thou hither, miaow me, and wherefore?
The terrace trees are high and hard to climb,
And the place death, considering who thou art,
If any of my humans find thee here.

Malaquinha
With love's light wings did I o'erperch these trees, (70)
For wooden limits cannot hold love out,
And what love can do, that dares love attempt:
Therefore thy humans are no stop to me.

Kitty
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

Malaquinha
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye
Than twenty of their brooms. Look thou but sweet
And I am proof against their enmity.

Kitty
I would not for the world they saw thee here.

Malaquinha 
I have night's fur to hide me from their eyes,
And, but thou love me, let them find me here;
My 9th life were better ended by their hate
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

(more and more miaowing is following, but we will not report it all here, since translation from Miaowish to English got lost. We will just say that the story will end up in blood, with a lot of street fights, severe injuries and death, for the delight of all the humans desperately trying to sleep in the neighbourhood).

THE END

Cause every little thing will be alright :)

It is really hard to write something when you don't know what to write about. So many thoughts running through my head. So many decisions to make. Too many roads, not sure which one to take. That sounded so poetically. It wasn't my intention.

This crossroads looks like a candy shop. Colorful. Standing in the middle. Pretty confused. Distracted. Maybe it's only me, I don't know. Why I am writing this? Well, the half of our Cyprus adventure is gone. That means that is time to start thinking for the future. Where to go, what to do? Back home? To some other country/continent/planet? Difficult one.

These past 5 months are written in our minds, hearts and souls. New people, now good friends. New experiences, now personality traits. New difficulties, now the strength of character. Each and every of those moments are big pieces of the puzzle called life.

8th of July...

Looking at this photo right now. Our first photo together :). Time goes by very fast... You realize that when you're going through your old photos, just like me now. Did I say old photos? Oh my, you see my point? Everything comes and goes. 

I don't know why I am writing all of this. It's not like we are leaving tomorrow, we still have 4 months in Cyprus... But somehow April is getting closer. Together with light panic. There are lots of opportunities out there. We are just not quite sure which one suits us best. How are we supposed to know? All of us got to this planet without instructions, it's kind of you'll reap what you sow. Fair play. 

Maybe it's because I was home for 10 days recently and it felt like I never left my hometown. That I will be back soon, too. Crazy mixture of emotions. A lot of stuff going on in my mind and heart. When you miss everything and everyone but you are still not ready to go back. Time for new project? New country? Could be... Time will tell...

Our stories are being written for us. We are on the right place in the right time with the right people. Everything will be alright :).

Modern addiction

There was a high possibility that I will write this in a good old way on a piece of paper and then just rewrite it. My laptop has some serious health issue. I do not want to talk about its conditions, because it's kind of medical secrecy, but believe me, it's bad. So naturally, I could not use it, among other things, to write this blog. Luckily my lovely roommates are always willing to help me out.

I had troubles with my laptop couple times before but it always ended up good. This time it takes more time to fix it. And it made me realise how much I depend on it. I also have a phone which I use for most of my internet stuff, but sometimes I prefer to do it on my laptop because it's more comfortable. Now I cannot. Sometimes I want to watch a movie on a bigger screen. Now I cannot. Sometimes I want to use the soft light of the screen for a romantic setting in my room. Now I cannot.

Lots of things have been written about this modern addiction and I have nothing new to add. I just found it interesting when I realized how obsessed I have become with all this electronis devices. So in the end it's a good thing that my laptop is on a sick leave, because I have time to learn how to live without it. Altough I am not quite sure it is possible in this era.

WHERE IS HOME?

I've been asking myself this question because last week I went back "home", to my biological home, the one that gave me birth, where my family is, where my mother tongue is, where I put my feet on the ground for the first time.



My parents' house, no language barriers, the familiar smell, the perfume my mum puts in the wardrobe for my clothes, the sound of my father's snoring when he sleeps on the couch, sharing secrets with my sisters, the belly of my six months pregnant cousin, my sick friend in her pyjama, my mum's pumpkin soup, the fresh vegetable from the grove, and then the mountains and the colours of the autumn, the cold air on your face, my old but loyal car, and much, much more!
Of course that's home!

But then I went to Verona for three days, for a dancetherapy meeting, and the moment I first stepped into the door, I felt home again: the familiar music, the colours of the people's clothes, the smell of the incense, my teacher and friend, the hugs, smiles, eyes, hands, tears, sweating, laughing, the weight of another person's body, the contact with another person's skin, the contact with the floor (sometimes a bit painful), the sense of fulfillness and freedom, and then dancing, dancing and even more dancing! Isn't this a wonderful home, too?


After that I went to Milan to take my flight. I woke up at 5.00 a.m. to get there on time. I survived the sleepless night, the morning cold air slapping my face, the traffic and the check-in queue with my 20 Kg suitcase (not one gram more not one less!), just to find out that my flight had a delay of more than 4 hours. Life has a wonderful way to remind you how flexible you should be, doesn't it?

Not too bad: after a 2 minutes disappointment, I chose to take it with philosophy and just enjoy my time at the airport. The most surprising thing is that, even there, I found a piece of my home: I found it in the kindness of a shop assistant, in a French family passing by, the jokes of some teenagers, a small child learning how to make her first steps, an old man falling asleep on a chair, some cypriot friends laughing together (probably flying back home?), pleople coming and going, stopping or just passing by, faces, histories, so much humanity! So much home!

Finally, the plane, the take-off, the gentle voice of a steward, the landing and...home again!

This time  it's another home, the one I've been living in, in the past 4 months. Again, the moment I step inside the door, everything is familiar: Doris, Lenka, Pablo, the miaowing of cats, Iron Man, my room, something or someone new in the house, old things, new things, presents, food, sharing, laughing, and the sense of deep relaxation and happiness you have when you can just be yourself!

I remember a poem my mum wrote to me, wich says:

"Ogni terra è la mia terra, 

ogni paese è il mio paese, 

ogni lingua è la mia lingua, 

in ogni punto dell'universo sono a Casa."

"Every earth is my earth,

every country is my country,

every language is my language,

in every corner of the universe I feel Home"  

Dedicated to all the pleope who make me feel home!

GRAZIE! THANK YOU! ΕΥΧΑΡΙΣΤΩ! HVALA! DĚKUJI! GRAZAS! MERCI!

  

Who/What am I?

Let me tell you a story...

I am very old. Nobody knows exactly my age. But old. Very old. In my time there weren't hospitals nor birth certificates. Nowadays you have everything, so many information. You know it all. I prefer to stay mysterious. Classy. A symbol of neverending changes. Passing seasons. They think they know who I am. They tried to find my roots. You have it in your history books. With lots of names, years, wars and other "important" stuff. They don't have a clue.

I was important. I still am. They fought over me. They fight over me. Long lines of kings and queens used me. I was a symbol of power to them. Royalty. I was an honour guest at all of their parties. I saw it all. All the important events, I was there. My role was to make the atmosphere easygoing and pleasant, cosy. My role hasn't changed. I am here and there. I am everywhere. Even here, in Cyprus. Even today they are still fighting over me. Incredible. Centuries passed. Same problems stayed. Now is all about the label, even in my case. So shallow.

Not only the rich people loved me. The poor ones did, as well. I helped them make their life softer. Friendly. Life was never easy on this kind of people. I enrich their everyday life. I put some fun in their gray days. I helped them bring food on the table. They are very nice to me. Gentle. I know they love me. They appreciate me. They cannot imagine their life without me. I was at their parties, also. I participated in all of their wonderful events. Those people know how to have good time, trust me! They have big and warm hearts. There is the magic. Everything is inside of you people. Why can I see this? You can see it as well, especially with my help. When I am with you, you open your hearts, you talk with each other, deeply and sincerely. You say things you usually wouldn't. And that makes all the difference.

I came here a long time ago. I stayed. I don't know why. Maybe because I like to make people happy. I like to connect them. I like to give a flavour to everything. I come in two colours. Two colours, countless nuances. I can be sweet. Bitter. Strong. Weak. Cold. Warm. Dark. Light. Thick. Thin. It depends on how you treat me. I depend on your love for me. If you love me and treat me well, I will be perfect!

I am happy. Energetic. I love to shine. Especially with my friend Sun. Rain is also my friend. I need both of them. It is teamwork. Our shows are magnificient!

Do you know who am I?

Cheers people! ;)

P.S Inspired by our Sunday's wine tour. Dedicated to all of the beautiful grapes and wines around the world that make us happy and cheerful ;)

A jail for "illegals"

Those who commit a crime and harm other individuals on purpose or in their behalf should be punished, and a stay in a prison might help these people to get back into society and don't repeat the same mistakes.

But what about the people whose only crime is not getting a passport, a visa, or other travel documents? What about the people who are running away from opression, injustice and harassment from their own compatriots and their leaders? What about those people who just were born in a place where there are no chances to grow up as a person, to satisfy the basic needs, to live with dignity? What about the people who cross a whole continent carrying nothing but the hope that Europe will bring them a better future? 

Is it fair for these people to be in a prison? Is it necessary to treat them as criminals just because they don't have a piece of paper with them? What is the teaching they are given while staying there? Which is the profit for the society? What about history? Did not Europeans ranaway from wars and misery before? Were not Cypriots refugees 40 years ago? Is it that easy to forget? Apparently it is.

Today I went to Menoya detention centre, better said, the jail for "illegal" imigrants. It is, indeed, a jail. Even though the food is good and the policemen treat them nice "if you do what they tell you to do", "they can go outside and play basketball or football in the morning and afternoon, and they can have their phones", one might say, "it's not that bad". It's not that bad except for the lack of essential aspect of the human nature, freedom.

It's hard to describe the feeling and the emotions that arise when you enter a prison, big fences, wire with spikes, document control, eternal security control, exhaustive checking, and doors closing behind you. I don't know if it's because imprisonment is against human nature, or because of the feeling that something is wrong, something is not working in the society, in the system, in the world and in ourselves, but the fact is that being in a prison, even for a 2 hours visit, always provoke a strange feeling inside you.

It's an awkard situation when is the first time you meet the people there, a lot of questions come to you while driving there: what to say? what to ask? what to do? how should I behave? what can I do?

I guess there are no answers for that, every person is different, every situation and circumstances are not the same, nor are the needs or what they are looking for.

A person who only has one bullet left or will be deported, after seven years living here and speaking fluent English and Greek; another person who only has the Supreme Court left to appeal and try to make his life in Cyprus; and a man who is already 8 months in prison waiting for the answer for his asylum request. Different cases, common complaint: "Why do I have to be in a prison?"

However, not everything was bad today, our last visit today came into the visitors room with a big smile, despite his difficult situation, we laughed about the danger of playing volleyball in the court, about African footballers and their superhuman speed and power, about other fellows we know...

Maybe that's the key to stand it, keep positive, keep smiling, assuming the situation and don't let it get you down.
I know you can, I know you will, you are a survivor, you went through many difficult experiences that made you stronger, stay strong man, don't give up, we are waiting for you outside, we don't forget you, better must come.

To all the people in Menoya

Cats, cats everywhere

Have you noticed that Cyprus is full of cats? It could easily change its name to Catpurrs. They are all over the place. Wherever you go, look closely. Do you see it? Yes, right there, that is Mr Whiskers.

Since we agreed that this is an island of cats I think it's quite important to know your cats. I mean our cats. Therefore I decided to dedicate this post to all the cats around our apartment. I have been observing every single one of them and now I can tell you what is going on here. And yes, pictures are included.

I should definitely start with Brownie.

Brownie (or as I like to call him: Pumpkin) was the first cat we met here and from the first moment it was clear that he thinks he runs this place. And as you can see on the picture, he surely is the 'big boss' material. He is very friendly to people, enormously cuddly but kind of an ass to other cats. Expects food everytime he sees someone and then is very hurt if he does not receive any. At the beginning he tried his best to meow in order to get some food, but according to some of us these attemps were just riddiculous, since his meowing sounded more like a princess who was expecting a prince on a white horse but he showed up on a dappled horse instead.
Needed to be said that he is used to go inside the apartment. But because one of us is allergic to cats all the cats are forbidden to go inside. However this little rascal just does not care and everytime we leave a window or a door open, suddenly we can hear his meowing somehow closer... One of us could tell you a story about how he/she came to his/her room just to find this crook lying in the bed. Upon request to leave he just stretched his body and complained about disturbing his sweet sleep.

Next cat should be Soft Guy.

This guy is so soft it will melt your heart. He never fights and is very submissive. If you give him food he is happy if you don't he does not mind, because more than food he is interested in cuddling. Recently we agreed that he is probably just a dog trapped in cat's body. He does not fetch, but he is always merrily happy to see someone. Also, he is here all the time or just a call away.



Then there are cats we do not know much about.

Pirate

He does not have a wooden leg, but he has just one eye, thus Pirate. Altough I cannot imagine him drinking rum nor on a boat, I imagine he fights a lot; he looks like a typical street cat. He does not visit us often and when he does he just sits and observes. When I try to approach him he runs away, but I am sure I am close to pat him on the head. Cats cannot resist being worshiped.

Happy cat on the left

Angelinos

One day we were sitting on our terrasse and enjoying breakfast before going to our Greek lesson. And we had a lovely guest, friend from Canada who was also in the Greek class. Because she was soon about to go back to Canada and because we all like her we asked her to name a wild cat that just appeared on our terrasse. She decided to name her Angelina. Weeks passed, we did not see Angelina for a while but then we did and we found out it's a male cat. And since we wanted to keep the name our friend chose I think you will agree that the only logical conclusion was rename the cat as Angelinos.
He turned out to be quite a funny cat. He likes to play with other cats, preferably with their tails, and if you approach him slowly he will let you rub his head, sometimes even playfully uses his paws.


As you can see so far it has been just male cats. Probably because it's three women in the house the cats decided to help the only man in the house. But we do have female cats.


Ginger

Like most of women this cat is a pure mystery. We know nothing about her. And just like the Loch Ness monster or Yetti you can barely see her on the picture. But just as Nessie and Yetti, Ginger exists. She spends most of her time in the front of our house with her girl friend and she is extremely timid. My secret thought is that she is actually Brownie's sister, they had to look alike before someone put him in the washing mashine.

Fluffinda

The fluffiest cat we have around. She is Ginger's best friend and they often hang out together. Somehow she is always here, but hiding so no one sees her. She likes to sleep on our table or chairs, when she is alone here. If you are lucky enough you might get closer to her and even touch
her. But you would clearly see that she does not enjoy it much. And the moment you stop focusing on her she slips away.
It is just a matter of time when we will have some fluffy kittens.





I saved the best for the end. Sometimes you see a cat and you fall in love. To me it happens with almost every cat. But then there are special cats with which you do not fall in love, you just are (in) love.
From the first time I saw this cat I was captured. There was something in his eyes that left me speachless. But because he would never let anyone to come closer, he ran away everytime, I named him

Tough Guy.

He showed up twice a month, spend some hours and disappeared. Every effort to get closer to him was wasteful. But I know that if you want to win heart of an animal (or a man) you have to make it with a help of food. So once in a time I left slice of cheese, or a piece of meat outside. One day, not that long ago, I left bit more food and when he finished eating I stayed and offered him my hand. He just could not resist.

From this moment we became friends. He is always around, almost everytime accompanied by Soft Guy. And everytime I offer him my hand he comes and lets me cuddle him. Or they just lie on our terrasse. Often meowing loudly to demand some food. And since Tough Guy is here, Brownie's meowing has improved and now he sounds properly. So basically begging for food turned into a concert of symphonic orchestra.

Oh, I almost forgot. There is one more cat. We saw it just three times or four times so we are not even sure if it is a female or a male. It always just goes through our backyard, never stops. From Brownie's reaction it might look like it is his arch enemy, but the cat does not give a damn. I call him Capo di tutti capi. For obvious reasons we do not have a picture.


Two times there was a dog too. But it belongs to a fellow neighbour so we do not count it as our pet, and we can barely count it as a cat. Although it made a poo here and ate the food for cats (but just because the cats did not want to eat it at all).
And that's it. Now when you know basic things about them you can have a nice chat when you come. Cats always appreciate decent conversations.


I am not saying this piece was written by a cat, but I am not saying it wasn't.