MECKLENBURG

It is one of the rare regions where it's possible to melt completely into the Nature for the long days of summer. And it's a kind of dream awake experience to walk across a meadow at the beginning of the evening after one fully sunny day. The fragrances are very intense, the pollen of the weeds, of the herbs, and flowers are floating in hot and dry air, like a stardust. But the forest standing around is cooling softly with its chlorophyll breath. Every being is getting from the late sun a sublime golden aura, every being is singing the psalms of trans...this meadow is such a beauty, that it is one of the most appropriate places to make love... On the side of the path we have taken , one big tree was laying dead, killed by a hurricane. From the wounds a tree has got in the fight with hurricane, a resin was leaking and forming white, sticky and strongly smelling crystals dried with morning sun and after night fresh. She said, " Wow! We found gold !!!". And her eyes were sparkling, as like one French Opinel appeared in her hand, my one also jumped out of the pocket. We opened ours travelers knives and during the next two hours we were collecting gold offered by a forest. Later she will produce an ointment, out of this gold leaking from the body of one tree assuming the next step in the reincarnation natural cycle. She will cook one hundred percent natural remedy for many health troubles. Excellent for muscles, skin, lungs, even for the joints. One little jar filled with a fine extract of forestall power. This is Mecklenburg. The color of the sky over a country of thousand lakes is similar to this one separating Andalusia from Cosmos. Those blue craziness variants are my favorite among all colors that I discovered. It's a Rock'n'Roll. Riding the roads of this region is only a fatal pleasure...

It can be strongly addictive. I just love to ride there. Many, many kilometers of the forgotten roads in Mecklenburg, many...and every one has its charms and stories reporting about the centuries of life happening there.

Mecklenburg, it's a pure Rock'n'Roll, were my cruisers are gliding with courtesy along the roads build the hundreds years ago and meandering they are from village to village, between the lakes crossing the fields, and at last to disappear under the strong brunches of dense forest they flow, they are absorbing. Our cruiser van exhibit its sleeper potential, it follows the paths with tiger smoothly concentrated energy.

We are swimming in a lake, collecting water from a fountain, cooking on a campfire, sleeping in hammocks or on our King size bed ,a reason for the existence of our cruiser van, Red Tiger- Love Capsule - Time Breaker. She collects the herbs, and the bunches of them are drying inside our Gypsy rolling home. I build the next bicycle, from the scrap, and from scratch, in the shadow of young oaks growing close to the lake. Van is totally protected from any view, all necessary minimums of everyday life are installed around, the parts of the zombie bicycles, the tools, wine and silence. Yes, in this region, the events of absolute silence have a place. Imagine please for a moment to experience the silence of the world around you. All is becoming silent, trees, birds, every animal, wind, sky, military flying objects, tractors, dogs, All is quiet. Just a few instants of reflection of Patcha Mama.

The sky above this land is intensively blue and the clouds of all sizes play fantastical games. The trees, all of them, are forming prehistoric nations, and existing in an universal cycle... growing, dying, becoming hummus from which they will reincarnate into trees born from seeds activated by the enzymes of forestal petrification. Their leaves are falling every autumn, they bring the nitrogen to the hummus soil, they dissolve and return as leaves growing from the young branches of the trees. Every animal living in this forest, if it survives untill its natural death, will be reincarnated as an animal... if it gets eaten by a human, it will be reincarnated as a human, and the human will be reincarnated as an animal. These speculations, childish and naive, are fundamentally simple and equations of reasons of being.

The lakes of this land will last forever. They are strong and they take part in the imperturbable cycle of reincarnation of the forest. The fish living in these waters will reincarnate as fish if they are not eaten by humans. Water will reincarnate as water, plants will grow back as plants, and the moon will always be reflected on the surface of the lake.

What would happen if we turned the trees upside down?

Will the tops become the roots and the roots would become the tops? Perhaps yes, because the mission of trees is only to connect the earth to the sky, to create the effective protective layer, under which any earthly being could prospect and prosper.

So... why did human power become master of such an effective, simple and vital mechanism? Why is the development and progress of humanity so great and impressive?

Everything has a reason for being.

Swimming in the freshwater world where I couldn't survive. In every moment it can take over and absorb me to let the bottom composting my rests. But the lake holds on quietly and hypnotically. Its surface, cosmically mirror, vibrates the frequencies of impenetrable dimensions. So I swim on the pressure of thousands of cubic of liquid and I fear for my life. Night is singing with the forest's voices and the broken branches are falling with mortal noise on the hummus ground. But all around is quiet. Fire talks and talks, its syntax is not complicated and it's rhythm is the beginning of everything. No Fish on the pan but sausages hunted in the supermarket, one bottle of wine, a few paprikas, onions and potatoes. The vegetables fried in the industry meet fat heated on a campfire.

It smells very good. Once added to the mix of the herbs, the fragrance of the dinner excites every being living around.

So I sing the Gypsies song.

I came back to this peaceful place, so many times already. Collecting the woods for cooking, hanging the hammock between the trees and chopping the vegetables in the pieces. Silence is an event whichhappens rarely, but it takes place specially on the lakes, in the forests or around the tops of the mountains.

These happenings are during only a few instants of everything. And it can be so terrifying, troubling as amazing and attractive. So many friends camped in this silence, and have been forever taken away from hysterical noises of survivals. Whenever I visit them, we eat good, we drink well, we smoke the next best harvest, we talk and we talk until the silence takes over suddenly. …Suddenly we observed the shouts, whistlings, whispers, winds, cracks and cricks, shadows and highlights shouting progressively down. Until even the breath of the wildness was vanishing for a few inexplicably dangerous and unknown instants...the sound of Everything has got shut down. Silence took over. It turned so that I didn't even care to listen to the beat of my own heart. We smoked the joints, we looked into the stars and we decomposed into silence.

And life is coming back, but these so incalculably silent pauses of everything being are probably those instants between life and death.

After such an experience I stayed outside squatting comfortably in one recycled coach, drinking my wine and meditating over what just happened. Everything is becoming only an instant. And the night is going to escape from the sun. Light up one cigarette and pull on the wine, life is only now.

The owls are screaming, shouting and whistling, it's the predators vital space. Here life ends as it begins, with yelling.

This region was a part of an ancient Slavic "Imperium". And Imperium is too much overrated in this case, but in fact Mecklenburg was the far west region of one vast territory of Slavs. Here also began the real troubles for the Roman Empire Army.

Funny, from one side Jesus, from the other side Klaus, one two three and no more of the Roman Empire. In fact it happened in such a way that those troubles were only the perfect arguments to execute the most incredible transformation of one criminal organisation. Oh Yeah!

Whatever...Mecklenburger Seenplatte, also known as Switzerland of the north, or the Country of Thousand Lakes, it's a rock'n'roll beauty. It's a wildness in the hearts surrounding the supermarkets which are sourcing the populations living in the small, often very old towns, with cheap bananas, fake tomatoes, industrial milk and meat, as like with cheap alcohol and tabac . Those towns from the centuries and some of them from over a thousand years were founded on the base of trading markets where the fishes from lakes were exchanged for corn from the fields opened with the axes in the woods. In almost every town growing on the side of the lakes exists the fishermen's houses quarter.

They are the smallest homes in the city, and very often they were the nests for many generations of fishing families.

The industry of transformation of flesh of the fishes into meal for the humans is very developed and however traditional. The smoked, dried, fried, marinated, cooked fishes were the natural product of traditional from over thousand years every day alimentation. Millions of people have grown on the fruits of the lakes and of the Baltic sea, until the supermarkets like Aldi had taken over the local markets with the offers of global origin products, cheaper than fishing the fishes, or collecting the corn.

Whatever...The Mecklenburgers, soft and very hard people, did survive to all kind of invasions.The Vikings, The Goths, The Franks, The Roman Empire Army, The Christians, The Napoleonians, The Nazi , The Allies and The Communists...those are only the meta examples of the intrusions of the foreign forces into The Country of the Thousand Lakes. So many events, troubles, facts, and victories have been recovered here with the hummus of the forests and absorbed into the abysses of the lakes or consumed by the waves of often very cold and very brutal Baltic Sea. Between those lakes, rivers, forests and beaches, so many people killed so many people...as like everywhere in the giant world. But the Mecklenburgers remain who they were, a folk strongly connected to Nature. To find here a quarter of wild boar at the correct price is not a rarity. Salami of the deer has become a local speciality.

Cooking one original goulash on the wood fire and Gypsy way is frequent. Oh Yeah!

I really like to have a good ride on this parcel of the globe. The roads are sometimes so forgotten that made out of the stones collected from the surrounding fields.

I love to listen to those road stories. Sometimes I follow them deep into the woods where they are becoming older, just the large paths on which the wooden wagons pulled with giant horses were transporting the corn, the fish, beer and smoked wild meat to Rostock. Those stories were those of the folk walking and rolling from lake to lake, from village to town, from town to Capital, for the centuries seeking the better profit, and from around hundred years spotting the best places for holidays.

Social revolutions have found in this region particularly favourable ground. The Hitlerians have built the sumptuous camps of national health care, and the Communists took the control over those places and did actually the same, just a bit less extreme. You could have a feeling, by reading, that I am a fatalistic person. Somehow yes, because I love to ride my hundreds of kms, to build my camp in the wildest corner around the lake, to have a rest on the side of a fire and to finish my bottle of good wine, and always the dramatic of the Nature comes to me. It's inevitable. I am a human observing from behind the huge oaks body the other humans doing their business on the beautiful Land. Very often it is not good what I see. And I feel, I think, like the indigenous were and are feeling while observing the imperial forces taking this land in their possession. At least the invaders have built the sumptuous villas, castles, and palaces for the hunters. I was living for a while in one of those.

It is a quite old big residential house, designed and constructed in the middle of the nineteenth century. And already in this period such a huge Villa, a la castle, was self-sustaining. Collected from the river and from the property meadows in the canal streamed water was pushing on the wooden wheel activating the electricity generator, which was producing the power kilowatts large enough to support the villa, and the surrounding farming installations which belonged to the owner of the residence a la castle. The electricity generator powered with water streamed in the channel built across the juicy meadows ... vanished. Today only the ruins of this really interesting period of the next technological revolution remains. This ruin is consequently eaten by Nature, which grows with little wild flowers and herbs on the wreck of human revolution as if nothing actually happened. So, yes, I can seem fatalistic while watching the humans fighting like crazy to dominate Nature, from which they have been born. Whatever, I finish my bottle of good wine. I lay in my hammock and I talk with the stars, when the dormouses begin their night clubbing in the trees. Oh! They can be really loud and irritating. And try to smoke a joint in their presence! Ma Donna! Seems like the guys, totally savages and sleeping over half of the year in the holes of the trees, are knowing what's good. They come really close when they detect the ganja fragrance, and the next evening they are like shouting" Gimme a joint! Gimme a joint! " until I smoke one. I had such a fun with those charming little rockers that I have done the best quality funeral ceremonies for two of them, who got killed by our Katze Killerin.

Mecklenburg is juicy with romantic tragic-dramatic-heavens comedy. I love it. Our cat is a perfect predator, this is what the cats were made for, and sometimes she doesn't sleep for the nights long, so taken is she by hunting. Her belly is becoming huge, her eyes are getting injected with original predator endorphins, her trans is palpable. And we tried to explain to her that killing the dormouse is senseless, because even if it is a kind of challenge, this small animal is too big for her stomach. Katze showed understanding for our educational speech, and for our breakfast she left a dead body of a dormouse on the porch of our truck.

Once, since I knew her, I made her understand that I am angry, because it was really only for fun what she did.

Probably it was a father of a family which we have seen evacuating to the higher parts of the tree from the instant when Katze had jumped out of the truck. This is what happens in Nature, nature is happening. So, with my friend we have done a highest consecration ceremony to honor a poor guy. We have burnt him. Previously we had prepared a beautiful wooden altar, big enough to generate strong holy fire.

The dormouse has been wrapped into the herbs and clean piece of the cotton sheet.

We have sung the Gypsies songs and we have lit up the fire under the woods. In less than one blink of the sun, the Dormouse returned into cosmic dust, and its reincarnation cycle on the earth has been stopped.

Later, we collected the ashes of animals to put them in a half of the melon shell. There were also the wild flowers and a few words of instinctive prayers, after which we left the funeral boat drifting on the surface of the lake.

And this Katze Killerin story with Dormouse happened one more time.

It was enough of a lesson for me. There's no way to take over the natural killer attitude of one genuine predator. They are the regulators of Natural demography. So, I light up the fire, I open a bottle of good wine, I sing the Gypsies songs, and I forgive myself my human stupidity.

Fishes are jumping out of the lake to eat the mosquitoes, those fishes are getting eaten by bigger fishes, and those bigger fishes are finishing on the hook. Ah! And previously the mosquitoes have successfully succeeded in getting the blood from drunk sleeping tourists.

Party all around! Beer, vodka, coca cola, speed, and preservatives. Tonnes of the touristic foldable cheers, tables, ice creams, fried potatoes and smoked fishes, loud music and initiations rituals. Talking about nothing over little dogs barking, developing skin cancer under solar filters, tanking the sun and fresh air for next ten months of working in the city. It has nothing to be compared with National Health Care camps. It is a tourism industry.

Mecklenburg as a health recovery curorts was glamorously famous from the beginning of the twentieth century.

And quite fast it has become a fancy destination despite the denses clouds of terribly hungry and young mosquitoes. One cloud of young mosquitoes can appear as a very bad experience when suddenly met while walking on the forestall path, which is meandering across the secret muds and psychedelic meadows. There's no other way than to run fast. No matter...the Communists have grown a few generations of kids in Mecklenburger woods, on the Mecklenburgers lakes and sea beaches, in this very vivid paradise on earth. I think, actually from my own experience I must admit, that the Communists recreation and sport for folk programmes were very well based.

What stories there! The thousands of Trabants and Wartburgs parked between the old oaks. The tonnes of the fishes, of the mushrooms smoked in the ovens and offered with huge bock of beer and mountains of fried potatoes. The workers from Rostock, Berlin, and other cities were drinking, dancing, swimming and doing love every summer in a communal way of happy people living in total peace in the holiday centers built out of cheap concrete in the giant cathedrals of ancestral forest. That was DDR.

Deutsche Demokratische Republik.

German Democratic Republic, we say. The kids were happier when they were children of doctors or directors of fabrics. Social competition is one never stopping program. La Lutte Des Classes, we say in French.

However, only in this revolutionary period, the kids of peasants had a chance for the first time in human history to see more of the world than only the hoof of the family farm, for free. And it was a massive movement. Whatever, the precedent century was a period of the hugest shifting of humankind. But, Mecklenburg remains as in one joke which explains the best the local folk character. It goes like this : Why would the Mecklenburgers survive a nuclear blast? Because the news about a mortal catastrophe would arrive there fifty years later. In fact, these people are soft, but very hard, and their conception of time isn't aligned with global rush.