tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-36824306565103806032024-03-13T06:03:39.407+02:00Art & DesignSurreal and Fantasy Art / Graphic DesignRezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.comBlogger127125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-83950819239659014262023-07-10T09:48:00.003+03:002023-07-10T09:52:07.564+03:00NATO Summit in Vilnius<p>Long time no see! I'm back with another political postage stamp design. It's been years since my last post, and a whole lot of things happened in the world since that. Our design studio has been actively covering all the important topics, and I have a bunch of new stuff to share. I'm planning to make a showcase of my postage stamps about the war in Ukraine, which has been the main focus of my latest design work. </p><p>Meanwhile, here's a mini-sheet of postage stamps dedicated to the upcoming NATO summit which is taking place on 11-12 July in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania. I used the theme of air balloons, because you can often see them floating over the city, especially in Summer.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXAnqs2ibYUzd66kviDPoQGVuWfUGptFTCwu6AG00AiwuPEsQ7R1qchI_cpz3hXPXN8mJHl7t6dgMLX1upZpGp-bZny9T3T1yeIqw9aXNGypi_M4MenXIJwi81lgqtBnUMDHxMzeyGAawpW7Ln2Rt7lToFMyvBB7TFcneNInoS8dC2ARYEK4Glat-1xzQ/s1400/NIG_NATO_Summit_3v.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1400" data-original-width="1050" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxXAnqs2ibYUzd66kviDPoQGVuWfUGptFTCwu6AG00AiwuPEsQ7R1qchI_cpz3hXPXN8mJHl7t6dgMLX1upZpGp-bZny9T3T1yeIqw9aXNGypi_M4MenXIJwi81lgqtBnUMDHxMzeyGAawpW7Ln2Rt7lToFMyvBB7TFcneNInoS8dC2ARYEK4Glat-1xzQ/w300-h400/NIG_NATO_Summit_3v.jpg" width="300" /></a></div><br /><p><br /></p>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-47603803582124050972016-10-04T11:50:00.003+03:002016-10-04T11:51:39.515+03:00Brexit!This is an issue of postage stamps dedicated to one of the hottest topics of this year – the United Kingdom's withdrawal from the EU, otherwise known as BREXIT. Purchase of the actual product is possible through our official <a href="http://stamperija.eu/#search?q=brexit" target="_blank">website</a>.<br />
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<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-87643876936634134772016-01-14T15:34:00.000+02:002019-06-10T19:44:35.748+03:00Endangered SpeciesThese are some of my postage stamps created in 2012-2013. They are all dedicated to the endangered species of birds and animals, which is a very popular subject among the stamp collectors. Enjoy!<br />
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Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-61589442302835352262015-12-31T19:47:00.000+02:002015-12-31T19:47:29.338+02:00Body Language II: The Curtain CallThis is a work in progress. Will be updated with the final version in a few days. Check back!<br />
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<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-52863858442602769442015-12-13T17:38:00.000+02:002015-12-13T17:47:11.529+02:00Introducing Postage StampsIf you follow my blog you probably know that I got a full-time job as a postage stamp designer in 2012. Our company specializes in designing, producing and distributing postage stamps mainly for African countries. In more than three years of working on postage stamps I've accumulated quite a collection of design materials. You can stumble across them on <a href="http://stamperija.eu/" target="_blank">our website</a>, on Ebay, by simply googling for African stamp images, but nobody actually knows they're mine. So I guess it's time to start introducing some of my postage stamps to the world as my works. People have a right to know what on earth I was doing for the past three years, after all.<br />
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So, this is my very first postage stamp. It's a so-called super stamp (SS) dedicated to the 85th anniversary of Marilyn Monroe. I didn't have much skills with the Wacom tablet back then, so I heavily relied on Photoshop filters like Pixel Bender. The only thing in this design where you can actually see my "tabletwork" is that golden statue of Marilyn, inspired by the Oscar she never received.<br />
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And this is my first traditional 4v + SS (four stamps plus super stamp) work. Nothing much, just some African butterflies. Again, no actual tablet skills to be seen here, just more Pixel Bender. I mean, who needs over-painting butterflies, anyway – they are pretty enough as they are.<br />
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I think this Whitney Houston tribute was my first work where I actually started showing tiny gleams of hope as a digital artist, but still I had miles to go.<br />
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Ah... the Ancient Egypt... who can resist its charm? Nobody actually cares about digital techniques as long as there is some Tut and Nef to be seen...<br />
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Sometimes we do so-called "art themes," which basically means we put some paintings inside the stamps. Virtually no tablet skills are required for this, but it still takes some design work. I think Tingatinga was my first art-related project.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CcLqL3XJntmxuXXnXEeoSL3hD9aCwdnsgVDAMN031grSheGNAmYzeAiu8PqcjaYNRfMd3n7XbTH9z8OAYLNX1aUo_KGJV1j82H2ENpYZZmNbDpurpjAeitefnEBV9uQdEbnmZYf7wpLL/s1600/TINGATINGA_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="236" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8CcLqL3XJntmxuXXnXEeoSL3hD9aCwdnsgVDAMN031grSheGNAmYzeAiu8PqcjaYNRfMd3n7XbTH9z8OAYLNX1aUo_KGJV1j82H2ENpYZZmNbDpurpjAeitefnEBV9uQdEbnmZYf7wpLL/s320/TINGATINGA_SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXVOXrp7CR_zocMuS3arDKTPhZCX_5KWkWCo0x_NnHibaquHoh8XaPD43w2DCuePZlxeUbUYj3Rs34VjJTmdKMlgg_qbPzjnxxJf3BGC7u0s_eR9lgmqk0GCVtSt52AvzGMZq4PEe3A_L/s1600/TINGATINGA_4v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="210" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjXVOXrp7CR_zocMuS3arDKTPhZCX_5KWkWCo0x_NnHibaquHoh8XaPD43w2DCuePZlxeUbUYj3Rs34VjJTmdKMlgg_qbPzjnxxJf3BGC7u0s_eR9lgmqk0GCVtSt52AvzGMZq4PEe3A_L/s320/TINGATINGA_4v.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_30631666">But mostly we do celebrities, like Queen Elizabeth II, for instance. Expectedly, they are selling really well.</span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprt0Vz3r9kDM__R9djsIL0Wiwe3eV02PjrYYUPg-by3ac4HUcVnDe5L8_n52YpR-XhfZN2FOv1skd0RhLr4QiMhlonVKqIWuLyQIJftBX7K-Emabii81WqkR4aNSN_i6IgfLCsO9PhrJ-/s1600/Queen_Elizabeth_II_4v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgprt0Vz3r9kDM__R9djsIL0Wiwe3eV02PjrYYUPg-by3ac4HUcVnDe5L8_n52YpR-XhfZN2FOv1skd0RhLr4QiMhlonVKqIWuLyQIJftBX7K-Emabii81WqkR4aNSN_i6IgfLCsO9PhrJ-/s320/Queen_Elizabeth_II_4v.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3GRA5zw8arIfwIpvsVWkEwF-gAfrsWSLImNNDyG8aPexUXRKYqF9yCAuq74MkrjMqYJ3mmOO3kKyE8dHGXIyJHxbDk1_uteOZlW6Mohp6NI0HBcyNLZ2aQdeRCX6ndiJ_UjVraGjTrr9/s1600/Queen_Elizabeth_II_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEia3GRA5zw8arIfwIpvsVWkEwF-gAfrsWSLImNNDyG8aPexUXRKYqF9yCAuq74MkrjMqYJ3mmOO3kKyE8dHGXIyJHxbDk1_uteOZlW6Mohp6NI0HBcyNLZ2aQdeRCX6ndiJ_UjVraGjTrr9/s320/Queen_Elizabeth_II_SS.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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<span id="goog_30631666">And scientists and inventors, of course. </span><span id="goog_30631667"></span>They are also quite popular. Not as popular as Popes, but still...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSsMIHMQA9RJD45FnJ-l3oUeo0lHijyFNFCXB9hcmXDusBA796yM-N_YzJQS831bEVXnT6cHTTkQ3rbT-MJVavFWyhiJfvpl_lFa12t6YO1uMbmusyDbDsij7fSTrPpZmga69DLws18o1/s1600/Scientists_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhwSsMIHMQA9RJD45FnJ-l3oUeo0lHijyFNFCXB9hcmXDusBA796yM-N_YzJQS831bEVXnT6cHTTkQ3rbT-MJVavFWyhiJfvpl_lFa12t6YO1uMbmusyDbDsij7fSTrPpZmga69DLws18o1/s320/Scientists_SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqAsXbXZS_abnbkYLlQq2en5AfmkF1tNtOY9D2CUgQ_JBgbsoMbzwiETGHxQGk-9ioqqN1PkYqz81T3OfSMJHr794oPim-poKm6xo3OFWjaAAO_7c_bM1Teg3RXCKLUxgRiJSt4TmmnV7/s1600/Scientists_3v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBqAsXbXZS_abnbkYLlQq2en5AfmkF1tNtOY9D2CUgQ_JBgbsoMbzwiETGHxQGk-9ioqqN1PkYqz81T3OfSMJHr794oPim-poKm6xo3OFWjaAAO_7c_bM1Teg3RXCKLUxgRiJSt4TmmnV7/s320/Scientists_3v.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgem8kKbXrNeT7lljdLSllo6TLy9nhV8bLQoB-pQ5UxVmZZ-de2sD2kXuA0CHIdyAoZUv2msDUEEKVBADjuK6wU3AppYJKqbZal7R972UIfrFB1jzIs2agfUTQGJb2jZZ5FufclRSAlbmRD/s1600/Bell_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgem8kKbXrNeT7lljdLSllo6TLy9nhV8bLQoB-pQ5UxVmZZ-de2sD2kXuA0CHIdyAoZUv2msDUEEKVBADjuK6wU3AppYJKqbZal7R972UIfrFB1jzIs2agfUTQGJb2jZZ5FufclRSAlbmRD/s320/Bell_SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJmzQ192vycmccyVti0-gFKhF5Qw1OxTeE7D4eF49Kp-yvhVz_SKw4zCpOWskWtLL0lQrlZaK49lEBQhMDL6hK_qjTJpfKNmGgzV4i07egmsrdBZpaDi-S_OkA4NlcBSfPM56357rM6M4/s1600/Bell_4v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKJmzQ192vycmccyVti0-gFKhF5Qw1OxTeE7D4eF49Kp-yvhVz_SKw4zCpOWskWtLL0lQrlZaK49lEBQhMDL6hK_qjTJpfKNmGgzV4i07egmsrdBZpaDi-S_OkA4NlcBSfPM56357rM6M4/s320/Bell_4v.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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Also, there are some "problematic" themes, like fighting malaria, for instance. Featuring stuff like that in postage stamps increases global awareness to the problems and generally is good for your karma.<br />
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And, of course, we remember you, Amelia! How could we forget the first woman who flew across the Atlantic. By the way, this particular monochromatic version was never actually printed, it was changed to a more cheerful colored version, which wasn't really how I intended to handle this theme. Well, such things happen quite often in our business, unfortunately. People prefer colorful stamps. Period.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgheN0kMSADOo2yp3Qewx9HM8dqpcTgom5F_TXWFsZguNL44PkoOkjjz4XvJPRfrgqWgxgxXJCW5a3gPc2YQlKTheh4D5DOG8tUFyT9bHlt6FW7VuvYEtAw_ILqaEElUOH44cAvy4SjH8/s1600/Amelia_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYgheN0kMSADOo2yp3Qewx9HM8dqpcTgom5F_TXWFsZguNL44PkoOkjjz4XvJPRfrgqWgxgxXJCW5a3gPc2YQlKTheh4D5DOG8tUFyT9bHlt6FW7VuvYEtAw_ILqaEElUOH44cAvy4SjH8/s320/Amelia_SS.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzwg_Q36Qj24CTzoF7soxw9buw4o5HzKPdgRPRbCtSHtm_dgc-GdaHDwAeiFqt0TytX-zrkUfBTtaPUJCksFO_A_aiRUUtmoDAMCxiLpwXU2RGvvMRFm6LYiHPM4CNTlJxrAjMMhE-ecp/s1600/Amelia_3v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRzwg_Q36Qj24CTzoF7soxw9buw4o5HzKPdgRPRbCtSHtm_dgc-GdaHDwAeiFqt0TytX-zrkUfBTtaPUJCksFO_A_aiRUUtmoDAMCxiLpwXU2RGvvMRFm6LYiHPM4CNTlJxrAjMMhE-ecp/s320/Amelia_3v.jpg" width="243" /></a></div>
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And, finally, my favorite early work. For some people people it would be just another art theme, but for me it was very important, because the artist in question was none other than Salvador Dali himself. As a surrealist, I basically worship the man, so I really tried my best when working on my first stamp issue dedicated to him.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVSIAGU4hLNeeDFiaFPRDAetZWmsnufA7vbgF7-9xpoj2609NzgfMtS89SsVT3X5m0r6UvyB2-5rOB_GTxUFpobr-xxSePSTGaDZZuzwoQ6LtOZ5zhZN_63s6RvqzxwZ3sLqWbgSAJIEL/s1600/Dali_4v.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtVSIAGU4hLNeeDFiaFPRDAetZWmsnufA7vbgF7-9xpoj2609NzgfMtS89SsVT3X5m0r6UvyB2-5rOB_GTxUFpobr-xxSePSTGaDZZuzwoQ6LtOZ5zhZN_63s6RvqzxwZ3sLqWbgSAJIEL/s320/Dali_4v.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFFi8ldpsVaev3Ar_8PyS5XyDJCA8RMdCjfJWGUe0x2Sz86z6Br-jyMMbpeJpLPdBw_RdMIIcaaN9luHa-jaPpQZ8xR1Tq7kwfmpQjOMgKmfSVJ-13AJJMyjkccCCm0hlCF3FYqfPg_Vb/s1600/Dali_SS.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdFFi8ldpsVaev3Ar_8PyS5XyDJCA8RMdCjfJWGUe0x2Sz86z6Br-jyMMbpeJpLPdBw_RdMIIcaaN9luHa-jaPpQZ8xR1Tq7kwfmpQjOMgKmfSVJ-13AJJMyjkccCCm0hlCF3FYqfPg_Vb/s320/Dali_SS.jpg" width="287" /></a></div>
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But funny thing happened with the SS on this one. Back then I didn't know that Togo (the country which ordered the issue) doesn't approve any kind of nudity in their stamps, so I was dumbfounded when they asked to do something about the naked Dali in the super stamp artwork. Our art manager advised to dress him up, so I did exactly that: I painted a leopard-skin dressing gown in the spirit of the famous artist. It fitted nicely and the project was saved!<br />
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OK, I think it's enough stamps for one day. Expect more in the future, though – there's a lot more where they came from.Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-90247133004962704462015-11-08T21:33:00.000+02:002015-11-09T11:05:43.659+02:00Journey Through the SkiesA few months ago <a href="https://www.facebook.com/theskys/" target="_blank">The SKYS</a>, a Lithuanian progressive rock band, asked me to do the artwork for their upcoming 20th anniversary album <i>Journey Through the Skies</i>, which would feature re-recordings of some of their previous songs, as well as some new material.<br />
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I immediately saw the opportunity for a "road-trip" concept and proposed just that – a continuous folding booklet featuring the illustrations to each songs seamlessly joined together, like a big journey through my surreal visions based on the lyrics. The recipe was simple: – a low horizon for a surreal flavor, a richly colored sky, slowly changing between day and night, and some repeatable elements for the scenery, helping to maintain the integrity. Add some symbolism and... voila! you have the fresh-cooked album art à la Dalí. <br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXsGMb68GDivhbBqalf6z8rrlDep5IuyijNIaDqHLYOnZAujluD2ulajueTBfy3TrhogBIhy6ko6Ui9ySLUtVP13zZ07TpNDGTXlrRj89upyjXhPvhDHbrQfzHdXwpB3-3ZyMaz9KHFMN/s1600/Journey_Album_Cover.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjHXsGMb68GDivhbBqalf6z8rrlDep5IuyijNIaDqHLYOnZAujluD2ulajueTBfy3TrhogBIhy6ko6Ui9ySLUtVP13zZ07TpNDGTXlrRj89upyjXhPvhDHbrQfzHdXwpB3-3ZyMaz9KHFMN/s400/Journey_Album_Cover.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="400" /></a></div>
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The unfolded booklet reaches a whooping 96 cm in length, so folding and unfolding it could be easily used as a morning exercise.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHAbPvswM-24MLrYOt72tkbl6JK1kw8N3G4pa_ac9uxcFBoPALlvinSI5RkboHP1TIj4UEH8cAy3XbWLpvY27i9WrrH8YI95z7MNh2_breFT-ONIrhzsZj6hVEyLqdX59Ryd2H06f19TD/s1600/Booklet_Side1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="50" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiGHAbPvswM-24MLrYOt72tkbl6JK1kw8N3G4pa_ac9uxcFBoPALlvinSI5RkboHP1TIj4UEH8cAy3XbWLpvY27i9WrrH8YI95z7MNh2_breFT-ONIrhzsZj6hVEyLqdX59Ryd2H06f19TD/s400/Booklet_Side1.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0e-N8RHrF72Xsg9KzdcEwU8QoANBTel-cLmVoVdB57xdPfmsobRH4OsOK8DMpzUsC3kI5ym9as4_Ncr38Mln3ojeDpc-FJcG_XiGMYgnG51v60PFTNDA1sqJUfy8Vm1ph-1iubZoLkXd4/s1600/Booklet_Side2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="50" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0e-N8RHrF72Xsg9KzdcEwU8QoANBTel-cLmVoVdB57xdPfmsobRH4OsOK8DMpzUsC3kI5ym9as4_Ncr38Mln3ojeDpc-FJcG_XiGMYgnG51v60PFTNDA1sqJUfy8Vm1ph-1iubZoLkXd4/s400/Booklet_Side2.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="400" /></a></div>
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We had a transparent jewel case, so for the inside artwork I came up with the idea of the empty scenery, which would "accommodate" the CD.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB59Qf_SuNyL2BVZxAgrHyvlXm-umEx-nB5GOFsT7vwsFpmpjCiX6O-GJQAi6NbZr-3qLjcQRumD8CDPgH1U8clxrcIAn8YqDU-h5sczlr-6Zh9chMslkoyoGOdmUs2eRpJumEb_hA732W/s1600/Case_Inside.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjB59Qf_SuNyL2BVZxAgrHyvlXm-umEx-nB5GOFsT7vwsFpmpjCiX6O-GJQAi6NbZr-3qLjcQRumD8CDPgH1U8clxrcIAn8YqDU-h5sczlr-6Zh9chMslkoyoGOdmUs2eRpJumEb_hA732W/s200/Case_Inside.jpg" style="border: none;" width="195" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIW8M6QmCdobXlFer8QTmJ16xXCLuk-_rpv7dACZLZhQmDlnBpJ1izQMk7GcPBW8e9MJTSY49FFEqFHPlbPVhQLjYsOcmZBjjS439hyphenhyphenGODETEyQ0EjKwcF7805Pg4Ei37GqNmCQRp5vWt/s1600/Case_Inside_%2526_CD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="156" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVIW8M6QmCdobXlFer8QTmJ16xXCLuk-_rpv7dACZLZhQmDlnBpJ1izQMk7GcPBW8e9MJTSY49FFEqFHPlbPVhQLjYsOcmZBjjS439hyphenhyphenGODETEyQ0EjKwcF7805Pg4Ei37GqNmCQRp5vWt/s200/Case_Inside_%2526_CD.jpg" style="border: none;" width="195" /></a></div>
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Here's the CD, separately.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnS1uvBO6tTW2QS-UyPiUuQzHL9Nrbehyphenhyphenn_I7Dw5c6t8K_aHo27ceiJzXhr0dZzDy0nNrygEbklHne3MmALDCChpOHND4B2pcuMTeNnv9Fg5pfPsuMcScBp2HjDVQS_OpXleO8Ybc2Aen/s1600/CD.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYnS1uvBO6tTW2QS-UyPiUuQzHL9Nrbehyphenhyphenn_I7Dw5c6t8K_aHo27ceiJzXhr0dZzDy0nNrygEbklHne3MmALDCChpOHND4B2pcuMTeNnv9Fg5pfPsuMcScBp2HjDVQS_OpXleO8Ybc2Aen/s320/CD.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="320" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5mDNTJREv0Dr7fBWxAePurbcfnQW41l_tf9pesoQLChJFAgxIbmnAPyK6qYlowS86BX1Di3BA_hnlzOgrgMG2hixVclGvYePmVTvGkJlhbqDxfzNguindtOSnTzjGTKPvPTz47ewz9Q1h/s1600/Case_Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 0; margin-left: 0;"></a><br />
And, finally, the back side. Some people noticed that the CD number is RK05CD, so I'm telling you straight away: no, those are not my initials, although I surely appreciate the coincidence.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYSQhN7SwtRKkIdWAbDIfRlq4DRxbxqPHHeNH3NYuwmnMO2kOC5y7cDF2wum6X1657CS3BQ7sygpPJF0ubZYbQ4iZLBc7gBTSZjAyg_1x1VVd9A6eGwHC86UKYhlmwCiBvOmETh0M-OGm/s1600/Case_Back.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="251" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZYSQhN7SwtRKkIdWAbDIfRlq4DRxbxqPHHeNH3NYuwmnMO2kOC5y7cDF2wum6X1657CS3BQ7sygpPJF0ubZYbQ4iZLBc7gBTSZjAyg_1x1VVd9A6eGwHC86UKYhlmwCiBvOmETh0M-OGm/s320/Case_Back.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="320" /></a></div>
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This is how it looks all printed and finished. Sorry for the bad quality: I took the picture with my phone and just cleaned it up in Photoshop. I can assure you, in real life the final product looks a lot more impressive.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof4QyNS2f-YcFcn58wbtIXbgExBZ9GZzdfAwww02JWeZMfkLaL4f-ZNA3am5BePCOtKvZJmPbtREY75MN12Z0Mk31gRTaIV_rI4odp9pzQtQroASK8UIi3ME7H5mnCDW3ak5S14ptoRr7/s1600/Journey_Complete.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 0; margin-right: 0;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiof4QyNS2f-YcFcn58wbtIXbgExBZ9GZzdfAwww02JWeZMfkLaL4f-ZNA3am5BePCOtKvZJmPbtREY75MN12Z0Mk31gRTaIV_rI4odp9pzQtQroASK8UIi3ME7H5mnCDW3ak5S14ptoRr7/s400/Journey_Complete.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="400" /></a></div>
<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-89468639658416179142014-12-31T23:19:00.000+02:002015-01-04T13:37:07.895+02:00Crank-Up IIThis is the epic grand finale of the <i>Crank-Up</i> mini-series within the <i>Body Language</i> series. Before this, there was a total of three drawings: The original <i>Crank-Up (Start to a New Life)</i> (1995), <i>Waiting for Another Crank Up</i> (2004) and <i>Still Waiting...</i> (2009).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozvxOgx1Z0BJCnrZqwk9GNrq1qqkmJ4_As0FcLY0YrszQvccayKxK-9hNJIb6Zh3RE1eClwUPdhlZRKQ0I7USfjEzZ3bR4jFFvDcO5tOYop1z1Ywj2qTKG9A90bFYNDRt1nknJ9NBMmVD/s1600/BL05_Crank-Up_1995.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhozvxOgx1Z0BJCnrZqwk9GNrq1qqkmJ4_As0FcLY0YrszQvccayKxK-9hNJIb6Zh3RE1eClwUPdhlZRKQ0I7USfjEzZ3bR4jFFvDcO5tOYop1z1Ywj2qTKG9A90bFYNDRt1nknJ9NBMmVD/s1600/BL05_Crank-Up_1995.jpg" height="100" width="70" /><span id="goog_888250126"></span><span id="goog_888250127"></span></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6g-9Zl8IKkNeGt91KeH1N53cxMVdgcPc5rlIaUJ87eaJwTLw4Q-WQ7lu_tdGAIWr5wx-FxB8ZMAyRqHdagWLiF5FgrTedl4ToTmtgyIJ7AD6lDvxmBN4UVeu9jm9lF3Na9Ur9TXevKso/s1600/BL2_05_Waiting_for_Another_Crank-Up_2004.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEji6g-9Zl8IKkNeGt91KeH1N53cxMVdgcPc5rlIaUJ87eaJwTLw4Q-WQ7lu_tdGAIWr5wx-FxB8ZMAyRqHdagWLiF5FgrTedl4ToTmtgyIJ7AD6lDvxmBN4UVeu9jm9lF3Na9Ur9TXevKso/s1600/BL2_05_Waiting_for_Another_Crank-Up_2004.jpg" height="100" width="90" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5el71bPSHB0GK1V7cQGrxWO2BthCMqufhDy7WqZ4SLh3mm_DrT6FClECmnrkb938SgkjA_RmsoWYjRfh4CesUa8sxTCZZF-GXTWHJX9QsJamI02wc-3JMZwIVJHj4bS3m-70AgXgRelsg/s1600/BL2_06_Still_Waiting_2009.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5el71bPSHB0GK1V7cQGrxWO2BthCMqufhDy7WqZ4SLh3mm_DrT6FClECmnrkb938SgkjA_RmsoWYjRfh4CesUa8sxTCZZF-GXTWHJX9QsJamI02wc-3JMZwIVJHj4bS3m-70AgXgRelsg/s1600/BL2_06_Still_Waiting_2009.jpg" height="100" width="90" /></a>
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Basically, it took 18 years (!) of waiting for the second encounter with the Green Demon. And, finally, here it is...<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOqQNlLxAbNh3gl-qEr5evDckJg60qRjqecxPLnRFIWZexFZvqqZIsmDf6KoknXOd80td5zufj7s6Xz2m0irJEUXq4iF_zOkmCOzkBEU6YPrTw-COlylqGlWTOv1G83ndXkgrLgtNGLFU/s1600/Crank_Up2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhmOqQNlLxAbNh3gl-qEr5evDckJg60qRjqecxPLnRFIWZexFZvqqZIsmDf6KoknXOd80td5zufj7s6Xz2m0irJEUXq4iF_zOkmCOzkBEU6YPrTw-COlylqGlWTOv1G83ndXkgrLgtNGLFU/s1600/Crank_Up2.jpg" height="400" width="278" /></a></div>
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Well... 18 years is quite a while, you know... so the demon got a bit skinny, and the surroundings have noticeably changed since the original <i>Crank Up</i>. No more decadence – we have a full-scale modern renovation going on here.<br />
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Yes, this is another Dianization (which means remaking older themes with my wife, Diana, as the model). Also, which happens rarely, this is a myselfization, too – the new demon is entirely based on your humble servant... well, maybe with the exception of the green skin and the six-pack (which I, regrettably, don't possess).<br />
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As for the "technicalities", it was done with watercolor pencils (namely, LYRA Osiris), 0.35 mm mechanical pencil (for sharp details) and ball-point pens (for darker parts). Here's the work in progress:<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1sBoMXO0OD2qCy3wOcEA8rfg61UdhlQax5IcBpTYhWb0Tp3iuxiY4Hno7PZm7DT_pNx9Oj6vRiR0AgbK1vj0j2mfvtY1R_5o8_etfoncEzQa_Egd_0gjgyqhRu-QUh4nZYYg8smK5on9/s1600/Crank_Up2_WIP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgM1sBoMXO0OD2qCy3wOcEA8rfg61UdhlQax5IcBpTYhWb0Tp3iuxiY4Hno7PZm7DT_pNx9Oj6vRiR0AgbK1vj0j2mfvtY1R_5o8_etfoncEzQa_Egd_0gjgyqhRu-QUh4nZYYg8smK5on9/s1600/Crank_Up2_WIP.jpg" height="235" width="400" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjw9dCiEmThHnafGJm6F-kfY56f50gMN-hoTEejCl75jQBpoYnTXulC3QlsKJw-5Em-ZTG-kMBhdqaW1iEY9jE6WzgTe6_RpbljqiTz4xu9OujjNnJ2oz9ymaQggJaI9rwtWewXr1QYLiG6/s1600/Crank_Up2_WIP.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><br /></a>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-76088791413984370532014-11-08T15:41:00.001+02:002015-11-08T21:36:54.358+02:00GeMUG LogoIt's a new logo for <a href="http://www.gemug.ge/" target="_blank">Georgian Mac User Group</a>. They have chosen a grapevine leaf, because vine is strongly associated with Georgia. It's bitten off from one side to resemble the famous Apple logo, and the main version has rainbow stripes from the old version of that logo, as a nod to the company's rich and colorful history.
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha6vH4YxeopDMo6Pg10pcjFhjcjMQftOf14lcuseB9Pj_EnPjKGtDAoBopPJ8GNNxOxAkg0AQo9eHNbxBnXDXP_niA3eJzgznhf_kqhyphenhyphencjgdeq3c-hbbMdSTLz8NOEjI27ypJLX5OVS4A/s1600/GeMUG_Logo_Rainbow.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgha6vH4YxeopDMo6Pg10pcjFhjcjMQftOf14lcuseB9Pj_EnPjKGtDAoBopPJ8GNNxOxAkg0AQo9eHNbxBnXDXP_niA3eJzgznhf_kqhyphenhyphencjgdeq3c-hbbMdSTLz8NOEjI27ypJLX5OVS4A/s1600/GeMUG_Logo_Rainbow.png" style="border: medium none;" width="355" /></a></div>
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Below you can see different variations of the logo. By default, the logo graphics are contained inside an iOS style rounded square, but this can vary depending on the occasion.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4af9LPYnWkvKbS6LW3XbxRq48q4kbgZhSFIOwNoXwVM1YKfjUNupNk3TALkrV7AWzoia928Fpnp_9fUE2IxfF7SLgnsgx-aQmCj_b-Wyh6m2LdJ3o5t2YFk0z7UZSyhtJQp4y7qZZGqge/s1600/GeMUG_Logo_Variants.png" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4af9LPYnWkvKbS6LW3XbxRq48q4kbgZhSFIOwNoXwVM1YKfjUNupNk3TALkrV7AWzoia928Fpnp_9fUE2IxfF7SLgnsgx-aQmCj_b-Wyh6m2LdJ3o5t2YFk0z7UZSyhtJQp4y7qZZGqge/s1600/GeMUG_Logo_Variants.png" style="border: medium none;" width="379" /></a></div>
<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-74126599990367676032014-09-15T22:55:00.000+03:002014-09-21T12:28:04.245+03:00Marlboro MincerOkay, I understand this is not exactly what one could have expected from me after more than two years of dead calm. But hey, gimme a break here – at least it's something!<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bryY4B5anFaEXly1quEUnbqFRmeIAdn4ZZfeRcr3jSnRzmEXLh_cqGurBK66m0GJMPUs7FxQIaR5yR7XPWC1btA-wjv8DSQBXQRPy3P-Vf9LeRoU1YT7H_YqUhjm4od7ySMJ-Kf0jxKt/s1600/Marlboro_Mincer_2014.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6bryY4B5anFaEXly1quEUnbqFRmeIAdn4ZZfeRcr3jSnRzmEXLh_cqGurBK66m0GJMPUs7FxQIaR5yR7XPWC1btA-wjv8DSQBXQRPy3P-Vf9LeRoU1YT7H_YqUhjm4od7ySMJ-Kf0jxKt/s1600/Marlboro_Mincer_2014.jpg" height="400" width="305" /></a></div>
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As you can see, this is a Marlboro mincer. Why? Mostly because I can. Also, because I used to collect empty cigarette packs when I was little (purely scientific interest) and Marlboro pack was my absolute favorite. As for the meat grinder, for me it's a symbol of emerging masculinity: You see, as a boy, I always helped my mom grind the meat, because it required a man's strength (or so I was told), therefore it made me feel like this big, strong man who could grind meat, open tightly screwed jars, mix concrete, stuff like that.<br />
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Does it make any sense? No? Excellent! Because it shouldn't.<br />
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Technical stuff: 200 x 260 mm, color pencils, 0.35 mechanical pencil, some black and red ball-points (used mostly on the pack).<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvnEptMPdoPqry6klJO4CSVEp7IMp7SPLz4JPz1eww4XvTwr-aMfgG7MhRw0Kw-PXchVl7LGeabQV47QWS40Pa_LylgKQaJyTGIRTxHgYSTKFTQzcxu3pJi5gIlkl0KreIwwI1lJkSm3h/s1600/Marlboro_WIP.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBvnEptMPdoPqry6klJO4CSVEp7IMp7SPLz4JPz1eww4XvTwr-aMfgG7MhRw0Kw-PXchVl7LGeabQV47QWS40Pa_LylgKQaJyTGIRTxHgYSTKFTQzcxu3pJi5gIlkl0KreIwwI1lJkSm3h/s1600/Marlboro_WIP.jpg" height="217" width="400" /></a></div>
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On the early WIP scans you can see how meticulously I modeled each cigarette strand, despite the fact that most of them were doomed right from the start to be buried underneath their brethren.Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-52696895250215312682014-08-24T21:47:00.002+03:002014-08-25T01:00:53.149+03:00Germany: There and Back AgainI had never been to Europe... I mean, the "real" Europe, because Lithuania doesn't count, being one of those former 15 republics where a USSR child like me can still feel himself at home. So you can imagine how excited I was when my wife told me a few months ago that the next summer we would get to live in Germany for a whole month!<br />
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It wouldn’t exactly be a summer vacation, though – more like an assignment where you combine business with pleasure. You see, Diana, my wife, is a Germanist, teaching students at Vilnius University, and this was an academic mission for her to gather materials for her upcoming textbook. As for me, it would be a great opportunity to get a nice long rest from work, change the scenery and finally crawl outside the familiar post-Soviet shell to see how good old Europe really feels like.<br />
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We would be living in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Essen" target="_blank">Essen</a>, a relatively inconspicuous city in North Rhine-Westphalia, somewhere between Dortmund and Düsseldorf. It may not be as popular as other famous German cities, but it’s as good as any other place if you want to experience your typical Germany. Besides, it was an integral part of the mission – Diana would be working at the Duisburg-Essen University library.<br />
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So, we spent the remaining few months in preparation and anticipation. We bought a laptop, reserved a suitable apartment, told everyone about the upcoming trip (even those who didn’t really need to know), booked the tickets and sat on suitcases. Finally, on the 1st of June, we flew to Dortmund, where we would take a train to Essen.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Arrival</span><br />
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You know what was the first thing I heard when we came out of the Dortmund U-Bahn? A mother yelling at her daughter to move it… in my native Georgian. It doesn’t necessarily mean Germany is full of Georgians (although, for argument’s sake, there are indeed a lot of Georgians living there), but wherever you may come from, there’s a big chance you’ll hear your native tongue while visiting Germany, and maybe more than once or twice. And it’s not just airports and stations, it’s everywhere. A sense of a big, international, multicultural hub never leaves you, no matter where you go. It’s in the streets, in the faces you see, in the sounds you hear.<br />
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It was at Dortmund train station where I first witnessed a real African “booty” with my own eyes, something I’d only seen in rap music videos before. There was this merry bunch of soccer fans from Cameroon (it was just days before the start of Brazil 2014 World Cup), and two of them were colorfully dressed girls with exceptionally voluminous rear parts. It took quite an effort for me to get dehypnotized by the sight.<br />
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Diana and I communicate mostly in Russian, so she advised me to refrain from using the Russian word for “negroes” (<i>негры</i>) in public, as it sounds very recognizable for a European ear (the word appears to be outdated in the West and may be considered politically incorrect, but it’s still widely used in everyday Russian language). When I proposed to use the Georgian word instead, which sounds completely different (<i>zangebi</i>), trusting that no one around us would understand it, Diana told me that she wouldn’t be so sure of that.<br />
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Our train arrived right on time (yeah, the famous German punctuality), and we got to share the wagon with the Eto’o-worshipping Cameroonian folks. Boy, that was some ride! They were singing, cheering and shouting non-stop, issuing some deeply ethnic sounds, and you can only imagine how loud they were on the scale from 1 to Tarzan.<br />
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Somewhere along the ride a German youngster walked through our wagon and stopped right by the Cameroonians. They talked, laughed and shook hands among all this deafening noise, and then he went on his way. It was beautiful! And that precise moment Diana heard a man nearby mumble to himself, shaking his head: <i>“Zangebi, zangebi…”</i> Yep, that’s right – “Negroes, negroes…” in Georgian.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Home, Sweet Temporary Home</span><br />
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Our hostess, whom for the privacy reasons I’m going to call Frau Opel (because she’s driving one), kindly picked us up from the Essen Hauptbahnhof (yeah, I could just write “Main Station”, but where’s fun in that?) and took us right to our apartment in Altendorf district. We were greeted by the neat rooms, pre-loaded fridge, fresh towels and other first necessities, providently prepared for us. And yes, of course, a working Wi-Fi connection.<br />
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The apartment was on the first floor in a four-storied building. Frau Opel herself lived on the fourth floor, and her mother – on the third. Behind the house there was a patio surrounded by a mini-garden full of silly gnomes and lush vegetation. In the center of the patio there was a wooden table with chairs, covered with a tarp for the moment. Our hostess promised to make use of that table as soon as the weather allowed.<br />
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Everything was perfect, except maybe the entrance hall, which proved to be so chilly even on the hottest day that Diana eventually came up with a witty nickname for it – <i>Гранитный Мавзолей</i> (Granite Mausoleum). See for yourself – the house entrance indeed resembles the famous Lenin Mausoleum at the Kremlin wall.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Turkish Essen</span><br />
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After unpacking we rested a bit and then decided to grab a bite somewhere nearby. We left the Mausoleum and joined the flow of Altendorfer Straße for the first time, and that’s when I got my first culture shock in Germany.<br />
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I had known about German cities being overpopulated by immigrants, mostly from Turkey. I was also aware about the district our apartment would be located in being one of the most multiracially populated areas in Essen. But still, it was more than I expected.<br />
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Turkish restaurants, kebab houses and shops dominated the scenery, but there were also Lebanese, Indian, Greek and numerous other establishments representing culture and cuisine from all over the world. The streets were full of folks of all possible races and colors – Black, White, East Asian, Arab, Hindi – many of them dressed in their ethnic outfits; you could see all these people of different origin walking side by side; you could hear a mix of dozens of different languages ringing in your ears. And for me, a cosmopolitan by nature, a multilingual and multicultural person, and a wannabe linguist, it was a thrilling experience. Although, I imagine, it would be a living nightmare for white supremacists, because walking in these streets would physically hurt them.<br />
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Diana speaks perfect German, but she had trouble communicating with local shop owners, as they were mostly not native and, truth be told, spoke horrible German, with rare exceptions. But at least they tried their best and all were polite, friendly and helpful. On the other hand, younger people had less problems with the language. I saw little Black and Arabic kids on numerous occasions, chatting in fluent German.<br />
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Still, among all this crazy mix of ethnicities and cultures, Turkish influence was clearly the strongest. Not only the majority of the establishments had Turkish signs, but you could also see the <a href="http://www.ayyildiz.de/" target="_blank">Ay Yıldız</a> ads everywhere – the brand of a mobile operator, specifically targeting the Turkish diaspora. By the way, we purchased their pre-paid SIM-cards for ourselves, because all the local shop owners recommended it as being the smartest choice.<br />
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So, about grabbing that bite. There were a lot of sizeable restaurants, but for the starters we decided to visit one of the more modest joints, so we ended up in a tiny kebab house with only a couple of tables. We ordered two different <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D%C3%BCr%C3%BCm" target="_blank">dürüm döners</a> to try each other’s and we liked them both. I generally favor anything wrapped in <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lavash" target="_blank">lavash</a> and these were really tasty.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Black and White</span><br />
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The first few days turned out to be rather hot (our Granite Mausoleum still remained chilly, of course), and we witnessed quite a lot of people, mostly children, bathing in an artificial lake nearby. Neither I nor Diana can swim, so we were looking at them with jealousy as we passed the bridge over the lake. And that’s when we saw something quite symbolic and touching: Two little boys perched on the parapet, side by side, ready to jump. One of them ebony black, the other – ivory white. They were clearly friends, lively chatting with each other. Then they jumped and splashed into the water in sync.<br />
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Regretfully, I wasn’t quick enough to capture them on camera – that would be one really nice shot, worth many likes on Facebook. We all need reminders that children don’t really care about races and ethnicities, and it’s our job to maintain that attitude in them as they grow up.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Touring and Shopping: Early Attempts</span><br />
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Well, Diana may have had a mission to fulfill, but a little touring and shopping wouldn’t hurt along the way. So we took every opportunity to divert. Thankfully, there was no lack of such opportunities in Essen.<br />
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Like any other German city, Essen is a place where tradition meets modernity. Also, it’s a place of constant building and rebuilding. Generally I noticed that Germans like to build and repair things, especially roads. But we’ll discuss that later. For now, let’s explore the surroundings.<br />
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First thing to notice, of course, were churches (<i>Kirche</i> in German), lots of them. Nothing you wouldn’t expect from a European city founded in early Middle Ages. Tall, proud, beautiful churches, standing right next to the modern buildings, in the very hearts of the buzzing city districts.<br />
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We found these two nearby. There will be more of them later.<br />
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The next thing to catch my attention was the “greenness” of the city. Whole bunches of densely growing trees, some of them as tall as houses; big and small enclaves of nature everywhere; many places where you forget you’re actually in the middle of a city – that’s your typical Essen.<br />
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After our first visit to the University and setting up things for Diana’s future work, we went to Limbecker Platz, which is not far from there. It’s one of the central squares in Essen and there’s a big modern mall there, the very first one we braved to explore.<br />
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Guess where I headed first. Saturn, of course – the famous German chain of electronics stores, a place where no techno-junkie like me would mind having their ashes scattered after death.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Psst... Dude, got some kryptonite?</td></tr>
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Personally, I’m against cremation, so please just bury me somewhere next to Lara Croft.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Grugapark</span><br />
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It’s time for you to learn that we were not exactly alone on this trip. Daumantas, Diana’s friend and colleague, arrived the very next day with his wife, Gina (no, you don’t read it as in Gina Lollobrigida, it’s a Lithuanian name, so spell the “G” like in “give,” be so kind). They traveled in their car, all the way from Lithuania through Poland to Germany, and it took them two days. Don’t try this at home, unless for some reasons you can’t part with your car.<br />
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The newlyweds (they’re married for a couple of years now, but I still like to call them that) settled in the same building as we. In fact, they occupied Frau Opel’s apartment, while our hostess herself temporarily moved with her mother. Both being Germanists, they were on the same assignment as Diana, so quite often they would go to the library together. Of course, we shared some of our touring activities, too.<br />
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So, later that day when Diana and I made our first humble attempt at touring the nearby parts of the city, Daumantas, together with his wife and a local friend (who actually was Macedonian, go figure) offered us a short evening stroll in Grugapark, which is basically Essen’s own botanical garden. Of course, we gladly accepted.<br />
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The Macedonian (who was, predictably, called Rade) proved to be an excellent guide. He showed us all the nooks and crannies of the garden and told us some interesting things about it. Like this “Magic Castle,” for instance, which in fact turned out to be a free hotel for the parents of the children who were undergoing expensive treatments in the nearby medical facility.<br />
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Grugapark was really beautiful. It was vast and had many things to see. Too bad it was after hours, so most of the special attractions, like pony riding, flamingo pond and loads of others were already closed, so we didn’t get to see everything. But what we did see was enough to make us “wow” on every step.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDnGlnrBU1SRFlCYxPJ52nOzotBfX6GfngxNBBHGDFeTLCckP7c7yaQU-zDxlh5Fbs1lrEqU3X7FirnDtg6OJ05I6xokty89OBLpYdaZ59xqD9P5iM_Ovu5eKgK7gL9ptLEndWgkk6gDa/s1600/Grugapark7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIDnGlnrBU1SRFlCYxPJ52nOzotBfX6GfngxNBBHGDFeTLCckP7c7yaQU-zDxlh5Fbs1lrEqU3X7FirnDtg6OJ05I6xokty89OBLpYdaZ59xqD9P5iM_Ovu5eKgK7gL9ptLEndWgkk6gDa/s1600/Grugapark7.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Hey, Diana, step away from that iron bird, it's not a toy!</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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They have not only plants from all around the world, but also an impressive collection of birds, especially owls and eagles. Most importantly, it’s a great place for family hangouts, picnics and general recreation. In fact, we stumbled upon at least three grill parties while we were there.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our Friendly Neighbors</span><br />
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Speaking of grill parties… The very next day our friendly neighbors, led by none other than our hostess’s mother (Frau Opel had left on a business trip by that time), invited us to one of their backyard parties, which they were apparently having quite often. Daumantas and Gina were out of the city, exploring nearby sights, so Diana and I had to carry the torch. Diana made a salad from fresh vegetables and I brought a Krombacher six-pack with me, while the man next door (let’s call him Karl, because he had a beard), with some help from his wife, prepared the grill and started roasting some sausages and steak.<br />
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We were sitting there, on a pleasant afternoon, chatting and waiting for the roast… Well, they were chatting and Diana was interpreting the key parts of the conversation to me, as my German vocabulary is restricted to the knowledge I got from watching Soviet WWII movies in deep childhood… which is, basically, <i>Hände hoch</i>, <i>Hitler kaputt</i> and <i>Jawohl, mein Führer</i>. None of those will do in a modern German conversation, trust me on that.<br />
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Next time I visit Germany, please remind me to learn at least a few common phrases.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Schloss Burg</span><br />
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The next afternoon Daumantas, Gina and Rade decided to take a tour to a place called <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schloss_Burg" target="_blank">Schloss Burg an der Wupper</a>, some 50 km drive south of Essen, and invited us along. It’s a medieval castle which is now a museum and a popular tourist attraction. According to Wikipedia, it’s the largest reconstructed castle in North-Rhine Westphalia.<br />
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And yes, it was indeed large, like a small town of its own, with lots of places to explore, dozens of interconnected buildings and towers, and several inner yards. There were even small streets with giftshops, restaurants, pubs and grillhouses.<br />
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The inner grounds met us with mandatory attributes for any medieval castle: a guillotine (a rather nasty looking one, but apparently fun for children) and a balloon-blowing jester with a lute (definitely fun for children).<br />
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We took one of the entrances into the main complex and immediately got lost and separated inside the numerous chambers and halls, filled with history and medieval atmosphere.<br />
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I was especially dumbfounded by this miniature battlefield with hundreds of detailed plastic figures.<br />
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And Diana found this wonderful stash of stuffed animals in the attic.<br />
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We could have spent hours and hours exploring all the wanders inside the castle buildings, but it was a lovely day outside and we wanted to see some live action we were promised in the brochure: there was a knights’ tournament held in one of the inner yards, a staged historical performance of sorts, which had already started as we arrived. So, as soon as we managed to find our way out and happily reunited in the courtyard, we rushed to the event.<br />
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It was really something. The fights weren’t exactly those from Game of Thrones, but the actors surely did their best, and the interludes between the fights were filled with humorous performances, which apparently were rather good, judging from the reaction of the audience. I made a short video where you can watch a couple of most hilarious fights.<br />
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We continued exploring the castle and eventually climbed into the highest tower which presented us with an astounding view of the surroundings. Looking below I noticed a beautiful church inside the castle walls, with a graveyard next to it, and asked Diana to take a photo of it, because at the moment my ancient Nokia was busy struggling with her panorama application.<br />
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The castle still had many wonders left for us to discover, but it was time to head back. Auf Wiedersehen, Schloss Burg!<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Hanging Trains of Wuppertal</span><br />
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On the halfway back to Essen we made a stop in Wuppertal. In case you didn’t know, it’s the city where Aspirin was invented, but we were interested in something different the city could offer – its famous suspended railway. So after having some burgers at a local McDonald’s, we headed straight to one of the nearby railway stations and bought the tickets.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvCXNqPluzDWAWZ5ysRRkFDXokmNr066PtvCI4KnSY3XeXWRzINc2YroV3DdCyk0r7D4aosK1brVmVEkyn9cjpAQWG4wEGC_vfpf3JgJj7CyN6IvDC9uoN9WJbcquoV34pZ33yn6opDuc/s1600/Wuppertal_Hanging_Train.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjYvCXNqPluzDWAWZ5ysRRkFDXokmNr066PtvCI4KnSY3XeXWRzINc2YroV3DdCyk0r7D4aosK1brVmVEkyn9cjpAQWG4wEGC_vfpf3JgJj7CyN6IvDC9uoN9WJbcquoV34pZ33yn6opDuc/s1600/Wuppertal_Hanging_Train.jpg" height="150" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">What's wrong with this picture?</td></tr>
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It was quite a ride, I must say. The railway mostly runs over the riverbeds, but there are also many locations where it arches over the populated areas, so you can see the buildings and streets full of cars and people down below as you fly over them in a shaky wagon slanting like carousel seats on steep turns. And my adrenalin levels went even higher as I learned that the railway has been operating since 1901. God bless German quality…<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Storm of the Century</span><br />
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The very same night as we returned from our Schloss Burg/Wuppertal tour, a terrible rainstorm broke out in the area. We were lucky to be safe inside a building, because what I saw through the windows made my eyes pop out. The waves of water were literally flying in the air, along with the branches torn from the trees. But only the following morning we truly learned how devastating the storm in fact was. According to this <a href="http://www.bbc.com/news/world-europe-27776189" target="_blank">BBC report</a>, six people were killed that night: three in Düsseldorf where a tree fell on a garden shed, two cyclists in Cologne and Krefeld, also by fallen trees, and one person in Essen.<br />
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As I mentioned earlier, Essen is a green city, with numerous open areas filled with trees, and it paid a heavy price for that, as the unhindered wind was able to reach enough speed to snap the large trees in half and even uproot them.<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">You can see a car somewhere in there...</td></tr>
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Most of the traffic lights stopped working throughout the city, causing chaos and accidents in the streets. One of the following days, as I walked down the Altendorfer Straße, I even had a chance to play a hero: A black woman with a baby pram was unable to cross the pedestrian crosswalk, because the traffic lights were out and the cars just wouldn’t stop, so after a while I had to step on the roadway and use my superpower – mind-controlling the nearest driver with the outstretched palm of my hand. It worked like a charm, and the grateful woman was able to carry on. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Touring and Shopping: Advanced Stage</span><br />
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With the city recovering from the act of God (easy there, it’s an insurance term), life slowly returned to its normal course, inviting us to continue with our touring and shopping activities. As architecture junkies, we scanned the nearby areas for interesting buildings and sights, and Essen really provided in that department. <br />
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As for shopping, besides a deeper exploration of the already familiar Limbecker Platz mall (the photo below shows me in the process), we also discovered Rathaus Galerie, another great spot for shopaholics. <br />
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More importantly, we had great time just by walking in the streets and soaking up the atmosphere of the careless urban summer. <br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Football Madness</span><br />
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I don’t always watch football, but when I do, it’s usually a FIFA World Cup. And since there was one starting on June 12, I started preparing for it, along with the whole country. <br />
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I don’t really have a favorite team, but since we were in Germany, it deemed appropriate (and possibly safer in terms of bodily integrity) for me to support the German team. So, on June 16, the day when Germans were to play their first match, here I was, wearing the colors, with all the necessary attributes, like beer and chips, close at hand, both laptop and TV fired up, all ready to show those Portuguese who’s the boss on the field.<br />
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And Germans really showed: They won 4:0 against Portugal and made Ronaldo cry like a baby. And you can imagine what was going on around in Essen in that precise moment – cars honking their guts out, people shouting and singing, streets roaring with celebration… I had a feeling I was right in the middle of a stadium in Brazil. <span style="font-size: large;"> </span> <span style="font-size: large;"> </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Hattingen Experiment</span><br />
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Well, it wasn’t much of an experiment, more like a test drive before real adventure, but I’m running past the hounds here, so why don’t I start from the beginning.<br />
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The thing is, I’m still a fresh driver (or a beta driver, as I like to call myself), having received my driver’s license only a year and a half ago. Therefore, this whole driving thing is still very exciting for me, and what could be more exciting than driving? Driving in Germany, of course!<br />
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That’s why I had planned to rent a car for a couple of days while being in Germany, just for the fun of it. And the next weekend seemed as good as any for putting this plan into action.<br />
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So, on a Friday morning, we went to STARCAR, which seemed to have the most affordable rental offers, just to discover that they were fresh out of available vehicles. Frustrated, we went back home to grieve upon this development and explore other possibilities. This is how we ended up reserving a car online at the <a href="http://www.sixt.de/" target="_blank">SIXT</a> website. Their prices were a bit stingier, but I was more than willing to cough up some extra Euros for my adulthood dream.<br />
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Back home I’m driving a Volkswagen Golf Plus, and while trying a different car would be exciting, I kinda hoped I could grab something similar, just to be safe and comfortable. But the Fate laughed at my face: the keys they gave me were of a Mini Cooper.<br />
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As I suspected, that car was nothing like Golf. The first 10 minutes or so I just spent trying to figure out how to start the damn thing. I never did, so I asked Diana to bring back the guy who gave me the keys and ask him in proper German to show me where to stick them.<br />
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As it turned out, you don’t stick them anywhere, you just need to have the keys with you, because they allow the car to recognize its master and be ready for ignition, which happens by simply turning a knob on the panel. Go figure…<br />
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At least, the car had a manual gearshift, so I was in a familiar territory there. Yet, there were enough quirks and peculiarities to keep my brain occupied on the way home from the rentals<br />
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We were planning to drive to Düsseldorf and Cologne that weekend, so I really needed some real practice before that – not just some chilled driving-in-da-hood, but a serious test-drive allowing me to explore the car thoroughly and master its controls.<br />
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Luckily for us, Daumantas came up with a plan which was exactly what the doctor had ordered: a trip to Hattingen, a town not far from Essen, would allow us to kill two birds with one stone – it would provide a nice scenic route for a test-drive, and we would get to see another beautiful German town.<br />
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We ventured forth immediately. Daumantas, along with Gina and Rade, was driving ahead in his car, and I, with Diana as my passenger, followed his lead in our rented Mini.<br />
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After some 15 kilometers straight, we exited the autobahn and that’s when the fun began. Daumantas took a rather challenging route – a twisted narrow road through some hilly forests, with many ascents and descents. Yeah, I mastered the controls alright.<br />
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As we arrived in Hattingen and parked our cars on the roof of a multi-storey parking building, the town welcomed us with a breathtaking panorama of church domes and tiled rooftops. From there, we walked straight to the town center, where we found ourselves surrounded with the serene magic of classic German small-town buildings, narrow streets and tidy facades.<br />
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That’s where I saw a crooked spire of a church for the first time. As I was told, this one was built this way on purpose – allegedly, a fire caused the original spire to collapse onto the nearby houses, so they replaced it with a curved one, slanted away from the houses, so that in case of another fire it would fall in different direction. But seeing as there are houses in all directions, I don’t think the story really holds true – a most likely explanation could be, like in many other cases of crooked church spires in Europe, the use of unseasoned wood for building, which causes the spires to deform over time.<br />
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On the way back we made a slight detour to see Burg Altendorf, a medieval tower located in the southeastern part of Essen. It was already too late for visitors, so we didn’t hang out much, just took a couple of shots and hopped back into the cars.<br />
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We still didn’t quite feel like calling it a day, so we headed to the Lake Baldeney, which is one of the famous recreation areas in Essen. Usually, there’s a lot of activity going on there, but again, it was already late and there was nothing much too see here, except the calm beauty of the lake and its surroundings.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Düsseldorf</span><br />
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Apparently, Germans have a knack for outdoor culinary festivals. Add the concurrent football fever to that and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what was going on in the center of Düsseldorf when we arrived there on Saturday. People eating and drinking all around us, walking in pairs, threesomes or whole groups, or just standing and talking. The streets were full of loud music, delicious smells, and cheering crowds – mostly football fans who’d already had a couple of beers.<br />
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Düsseldorf is not such a big city (only slightly bigger than Essen), but still you can’t possibly see everything it has to offer in a single day. So we just decided to hang out in the old town, plowing through the crowds, enjoying the beautiful day and soaking up the atmosphere.<br />
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We stopped by every interesting sight in the vicinity – buildings, statues, fountains – taking a lot of photos in the process. And we didn’t just look, but also read the plaques and imbibed all the information we could obtain. Diana even engaged in exploring some of the statues more… intimately.<br />
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We also witnessed some local wonder…<br />
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… and learned some local wisdom.<br />
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzztdC33lzHRMinr6qod81uTh8y7-o3cUSr8cLbFHcjtJFJa87RUrNN_XVJtVOobnOh0eFHn_xteEMdMYPgye7Q8C5oock0sJr0ih_5obcKUbOA6Zs6A-pogDr3Ui1PX21LUYjOE8dm99/s1600/Local_Wisdom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLzztdC33lzHRMinr6qod81uTh8y7-o3cUSr8cLbFHcjtJFJa87RUrNN_XVJtVOobnOh0eFHn_xteEMdMYPgye7Q8C5oock0sJr0ih_5obcKUbOA6Zs6A-pogDr3Ui1PX21LUYjOE8dm99/s1600/Local_Wisdom.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">The inscription says: “This fairytale may never come true.<br />
Life teaches us to be smart and save.”</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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After a while we decided to take a break from all this sightseeing, so we returned to our parking place and drove to the nearest shopping mall (Düsseldorf Bilk Arcaden, I believe). We used the facilities (where I discovered a condom machine for the first time in my life), had a dinner at Mr. Chicken (which, unsurprisingly, turned out to be a Turkish establishment) and immediately headed back to the old town, having stoically resisted a shopping urge.<br />
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More walking, more sightseeing, more atmosphere inhalation… until we were tired enough to call it a day and drive back to Essen.<br />
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On the way out of the city, this beautiful church caught our eye and we absolutely had to stop and take some pictures of it.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Cologne (the City, not the Perfume)</span><br />
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Touring Cologne started for us right in the parking garage under the Cologne Cathedral, with a carefully preserved ancient well, now obviously defunct. Nearby, you could also see some ruins of a building base, fenced off from the rest of the parking area.<br />
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Seeing the Cologne Cathedral was naturally the first thing to do, especially as we just literally climbed out from underneath it. And you really need to see it for yourself, because no photograph can convey the true feeling you get at the feet of this awe-inspiring stone giant, like a little bug crawling on the face of ancient Earth. And we literally had to crawl around in order to fit this baby into the frame somehow – it took a while before we managed to get some decent shots. But first, let us take a selfie!<br />
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After some circling around, we finally dared to enter the Cathedral. I don’t always visit churches, but when I do, I like to light candles and negotiate health for my parents. And so does my wife, only a bit more comfortably and naturally, being a semi-practicing Catholic and all. This time the main topic of negotiation for us was the well-being of Diana’s father, who was diagnosed with an early stage of a prostate cancer, as we had learned just days earlier from one of the regular phone conversations with Homeland Security (that’s how I mentally called my mother-in-law during our trip to Germany).<br />
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At first we didn’t dare to unsheathe our mobile devices, respecting the entrance signs prohibiting us from using cameras and cellphones. But then we noticed that nobody actually cared, including the staff (not sure if that word is applicable here), so we started taking some pictures of the interior, having switched off camera sounds beforehand.<br />
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Like in Düsseldorf, our touring was confined to the old town, because, given only one day, a concentrated thematic exploration seemed to have more sense. So we started covering the sights in the vicinity, slowly and methodically expanding the area, scanning for any interesting details…<br />
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<br />
…and interesting people, like this slightly overweight guest from Krypton, who apparently was not impressed by the local architecture as much as we were, because after a while he went on bantering and shaking his head.<br />
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Obviously, we couldn't miss the chance to plagiarize the <a href="http://twistedsifter.com/2013/03/girlfriend-leads-photographer-around-the-world/" target="_blank">well-known series of romantic photographs</a>. Lead the way, Susanina!<br />
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At some point we found ourselves at the bank of Rhine, where Diana had a chance of making another of her panoramic shots. This one, as we discovered afterwards, included a part of my head – nose, mostly.<br />
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On the deck of one of the moored cruise ships we saw a giant chess set. I don’t know how heavy the pieces were, but I imagine it would surely take a certain amount of physical effort to play a game of this particular chess.<br />
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Not far from the river bank we encountered this house, completely covered in ivy. In fact, you can see quite a lot of such “green houses” in Germany. Back in Essen, on the way to Grugapark, we saw a whole street covered in ivy.<br />
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Eventually, we got hungry and picked one of the numerous establishments to stop by and eat. As we were waiting for our order under the awnings, some technicians were installing two large flat screens, in preparation for a football match that was starting soon.<br />
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We spent the rest of the day in the same vein: more walking and exploring, just in a slower pace – digesting a full portion of German pork stake is no easy task, you know...<br />
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We concluded our tour by heading back to the Cathedral area, buying some souvenirs in a nearby shop and taking one last look at the Cathedral in the somber evening light. Now it was time to drive back to Essen…<br />
<br />
Not so fast, buddy! Remember when I told you about how Germans like building and repairing stuff? Roads, in particular? Generally, it’s a good thing, but when you drive through an unfamiliar location, placing your trust entirely in the hands of a GPS navigator, coming across a roadblock is the last thing you need, trust me.<br />
<br />
That’s exactly what happened to us on the way back. We had to cross a bridge, but the road leading to it was closed off for repairs and the GPS woman (yeah, I like my GPS navigators female, in their twenties or early thirties... commanding voice… mmm… sorry, I digress) was hell-bent on driving us through the roadblock, refusing any other alternatives.<br />
<br />
I honestly tried to find another way on my own, but I failed miserably. It was getting dark, there was not a soul around to ask for directions, and I did the only thing there was left to do: squeeze through the barriers (fortunately, there was just enough gap for our tiny Mini Cooper) and brave the unfinished road.<br />
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I’m sure I broke a whole bunch of German road rules in the process, but there was nothing I could do about it, so I just drove on, hoping there were no cameras around to capture the road atrocities committed by a savage foreigner…<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Epic Tale of Buying a Volkswagen Keychain</span><br />
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When I returned the rented Mini Cooper on Monday morning, I felt lonely and miserable, as every man should feel without his car. In order to fill that bottomless void, I decided to… buy a keychain with a Volkswagen logo on it.<br />
<br />
So the next day, Tuesday, while Diana was at the library, I went to the nearest Volkswagen center – which, luckily, turned out to be located just in about 20-minute walk from our place of residence.<br />
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It was a dull day, but I still decided to take some photos along the way. After all, it wasn’t a photography contest, just a way to remember things for the future reference.<br />
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As I was passing by the ThyssenKrupp premises, I noticed this <a href="http://de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tiegelgussdenkmal" target="_blank">monument</a>, illustrating the glorious process of steel manufacturing in some social realism style. Flashbacks of heavy Soviet childhood popped in my head, but I quickly dismissed them and went on.<br />
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Further down the road I encountered more industrial history – this time, in the form of Krupp family house, preserved with care in all its modest beauty.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsAwKWdXCPnClYt1Ri2NkLNMHPLgCBlOciUC512NwcNdRXwQZ6aeyY5NtqHOb1x9BkUZNv1qIStd9sLT4W2FNzG60RsfSXuBr4KVb1adaLLDyzamAkvW6IIOc_DXzuB6bNkMKAN5cgrSQ/s1600/Krupp_Family_House.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: none; margin-right: none;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnsAwKWdXCPnClYt1Ri2NkLNMHPLgCBlOciUC512NwcNdRXwQZ6aeyY5NtqHOb1x9BkUZNv1qIStd9sLT4W2FNzG60RsfSXuBr4KVb1adaLLDyzamAkvW6IIOc_DXzuB6bNkMKAN5cgrSQ/s1600/Krupp_Family_House.jpg" height="223" width="400" /></a></div>
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And, finally, here it was: Volkswagen Zentrum Essen, the place where all your Volkswagen dreams and fantasies come true.<br />
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No, seriously, they had EVERYTHING, from cars and their parts to baseball caps, multitools and even portable grills. And, as I was standing in the middle of this Volkswagen temple, so vast and impeccably clean, listening to the humble murmur of the fellow worshippers, I felt… shame.<br />
<br />
Yes, shame, because I was here only for a 4,99€ keychain. Come on, who goes to Calvin Klein’s just to buy a pair of socks? That’s when I suddenly felt an urgent need to buy a whole set of rubber mats for 2007 Golf Plus. And so I bought them. Plus the keychain, of course – to my immense joy, they had exactly the one I wanted…<br />
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkll3_IZchgh30wnbiRW2GDHa2KsXH3i4v_4SF-Pb4pII_hbgHOxbayj4H0pys4zHWaI6wu2FSdtwOyPTl9Kj0ehmUbIuw__IRpWwuBdVWmSRkurYfuF3sIKefwWaLvjl7_r2ZsTDzs3P/s1600/Volkswagen_Keychain.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRkll3_IZchgh30wnbiRW2GDHa2KsXH3i4v_4SF-Pb4pII_hbgHOxbayj4H0pys4zHWaI6wu2FSdtwOyPTl9Kj0ehmUbIuw__IRpWwuBdVWmSRkurYfuF3sIKefwWaLvjl7_r2ZsTDzs3P/s1600/Volkswagen_Keychain.jpg" height="400" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Mmmm… my precious...</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
As I headed back home, it started raining. I imagine it’s an odd sight, someone carrying car mats on foot, especially in the rain. I mean, dude, if you have a car, why go on foot to buy car stuff? Wait, what? Your car is parked in another country? Then why the… Ah, forget it.<br />
<br />
Naturally, by the time I got home, everything was wet, including the rubber mats (good thing they’re made of rubber). I needed a place where I could hang them to dry, and the kitchen seemed to be a logical choice at the moment...<br />
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<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Leuchterdämmerung</span><br />
<br />
It was still raining outside, Diana was still at the library, and the momentary joy delivered by the keychain purchase was rapidly evaporating. Having nothing better to do, I crashed on the couch and started thinking about my place in the Universe.<br />
<br />
Who am I? Why am I here? What is my purpose? And the voice answered in my head: “Dude, seriously?”<br />
<br />
“Aw, come on,” continued the voice, “you packed a goddamn half suitcase with drawing utensils, paper and whatnot, hoping this trip would end the artist’s block you’ve been having since you got that effing permanent job in 2012… And to what end?”<br />
<br />
“Well, I…”<br />
<br />
“Where are the sketches of people and places of Essen? Where are the semi-nude portraits of your beautiful (and very drawing-friendly) wife?”<br />
<br />
“But I…”<br />
<br />
“Or at least a goddamn effing still life?” the voice persisted. “Something? Anything? A doodle, maybe?”<br />
<br />
I wanted to respond, to say something in my defense, like how the trip and all the stuff to do and the new surroundings had been overwhelming me, or how the tourist in me ousted the artist, or any other crap like that. But the voice was right, I had no excuse. So I cast one last look on my shiny keychain, touched the rubber mats one last time, issued a long, deep sigh, opened the cupboard and grabbed the bag of drawing utensils, stashed far in its depths on the very first day of our arrival.<br />
<br />
And I started doing something I wanted to do for almost a month – drawing the most ridiculous chandelier I’ve ever seen, which was hanging in our guest room.<br />
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At first, I wanted to do just a graphite drawing, but I got carried away and ended up using colored pencils. Oh, how I missed them, my little babies… More than two years had passed since the last time I held them in my arms… well… fingers. Oh, sweet muscle memories… Sorry, got distracted – here’s the result of my relapse in art, fresh and unframed. But I already had plans for changing that…<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The Flu Conspiracy</span><br />
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Speaking of plans… The very next day, completely out of the blue, I got sick. I was just fine, exploring a new shiny mega-store discovered by Diana not far from our place, and the next thing I know, I’m sneezing, nose running and all, having a full-on summertime flu, the worst kind of them all.<br />
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Naturally, all our touring plans for the last days of the trip were royally screwed. We had to cancel the visit to the Zollverein Mines and, most regrettably, Margaretenhöhe – probably the most beautiful place in whole Essen, of which we had only a glimpse when passing by in a car.<br />
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Instead, I was lying on the couch, sneezing my heart out and cursing the greedy pharmaceutical corporations who conspired to prevent the invention of the ultimate flu cure in the 21st century. Also, from time to time, I cried out “Medic!” in a Team Fortress 2 character’s voice, just to make Diana laugh.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Last Minute Things</span><br />
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In a couple of days I fully recovered, but we didn’t have much time left before departure, and we needed to do quite a lot of last minute things, like last minute shopping, last minute touring and even last minute picture-framing.<br />
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You may ask, why on earth frame a picture, especially in glass, when it’s a lot safer to transport it unframed. Because, silly, we weren’t going to transport anything, we were going to leave the picture as a gift for Frau Opel. And this is what I wrote on the passe-partout:<br />
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<i>“Sometimes art has to be strange and pointless.”</i><br />
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Deep, huh?<br />
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Those last couple of days I had rather mixed feelings. I still had not enough Germany in my bloodstream, but I was getting homesick, too – it had been a month, after all. Russians would call it <i>светлая печаль</i> – sweet sorrow.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Goodbye, Germany!</span><br />
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Daumantas and Co. had already departed on Friday, the 27th, because they had to drive all the way back to Lithuania and needed a head start. He generously agreed to take some of our cargo with him (including my rubber mats), making our packing lives so much easier. And two days later, on Sunday morning, it was our turn to say goodbyes.<br />
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Essen saw us crying with heavy rain. Frau Opel kindly offered to take us right to the Dortmund airport, saving us a lot of time and effort, especially in such weather. We presented her the picture, thanked her mom and the neighbors for the hospitality, squeezed our suitcases into the car and took off.<br />
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There was still so much left to do for us in Essen, so many things we couldn’t see, but hey, you must leave something for the next time, right?<br />
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Our office is located outside the city and it has a vast yard, but it’s not exactly animal friendly, especially in cold times of year. Nowhere to hide and make a place of living, just hundreds of square meters of trimmed grass. We tried to negotiate with our boss about letting the cat inside the building, but we failed. Sheltering an animal, especially sick or injured, is a responsibility which nobody at that moment seemed to be ready for. So, after some brief meditation, I decided to volunteer. We already had three cats at home, living in the premises, so what the hell, I thought, another cat wouldn’t hurt.<br />
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But first things first. The cat didn’t look so well, so I started googling for the nearest veterinarian cabinet. Luckily, it turned out to be just some 3 kms away from our office, in a large shopping center where we often go to buy supplies and stuff. On the lunch break, I put the cat in the trunk of my hatchback and took off to the vet’s.<br />
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The first examination wasn’t really conclusive. It was hard for the doctor (again, female, if it matters) to determine the cause of the swelling. It could have been a result of an impact of some sort, maybe a kick. What was obvious right away is the presence of lice and intestinal worms, quite common in stray cats. The doc did her magic, gave some injections, provided with special diet food for sick cats and told me to come back on Wednesday.<br />
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There was quite a commotion at home that evening. My thinking that another cat in the household wouldn’t hurt turned out to be rather optimistic. Not divulging the gory details, the cat had to spend the first night in the trunk, and I had to take her with me to the work in the morning. So, basically, she had to live in the trunk. Still better than under the waste bins, I guess…<br />
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Anyway, the cat refused to eat anything, including the prescribed diet food, for the whole next day. She didn’t drink, too. And the swelling wasn’t going anywhere. So I started to become concerned.<br />
The Wednesday examination also wasn’t much help. More injections, more belly palpation, more inconclusiveness. This time the doc wasn’t alone though – another veterinarian (male, if it matters) joined the team. They told me to come back on Friday.<br />
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That evening, at long last, folks at home came to the agreement that living in a trunk is not quite appropriate for a sick cat, so we finally took her in. We tried to feed her, but she still wasn’t into it. However, the cat displayed healthy curiosity and was eager to engage in playful activity, although had a trouble of moving and jumping around. Also, we figured out that, possibly, before being abandoned, the cat lived in a house, because she immediately, without any instructions or suggestions, started using the cat toilet brought by me earlier from a nearby pet shop.<br />
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The continuous absence of appetite, accompanied with fits of retching, indicated that the cat was still seriously sick, and the swelling didn’t show any signs of becoming smaller. On a positive side, the lice seemed to be going away, and she had a bit of Friskies and water Thursday evening. Very little, though.<br />
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On Friday, I was determined to take some real action. Fortunately, the doctors seemed so, too. After some more palpation, examination and pondering, the male doctor, who seemed to be more experienced, advanced a theory that the swelling, in fact, wasn’t a swelling at all, but… intestines, fallen out of their original location due to some sort of a tear in the abdominal tissue, probably caused by a severe blow. He said he could feel the bowels with his fingers, as if there was only skin covering them.<br />
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Gulping, I asked if there was a way to make sure his theory was correct. The answer was that the only way to be 100% sure was cutting the cat open, an in surgery. Well, that wasn’t exactly the action I had in mind, but it was clear that something had to be done. Still, before cutting the poor animal up, I asked for any way of confirmation that the surgery was absolutely necessary. They suggested x-ray. The only problem was that they didn’t have the x-ray machine, but they could arrange an appointment to another clinic, in the city, not too far from our location. <br />
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I could only get to that clinic after work. In Lithuania, it becomes dark quite early this time of year. Around 4:45 PM, when I took off on a mission to x-ray the cat, it was almost pitch black, and it started raining cats and dogs, to complete the picture. In case you don’t know, I’m still a “beta driver” (meaning I got my driver’s license only nine months ago), so it was quite a challenge driving tens of kilometers in such conditions. But hey, duty called.<br />
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Another challenge was the young girl in charge of the x-ray machine. You see, young Lithuanian girls usually don’t speak Russian, and as I don’t speak Lithuanian, we had to communicate in English, which wasn’t the native tongue for either of us. But I managed, somehow, to explain the complicated cat situation to the girl, and she managed to comprehend it. The only thing I don’t understand is why she had to have me holding the cat down on the x-ray table, after having her assistant (another young Lithuanian girl) dress me up in a doc’s apron with that ridiculous neck piece. Not that I complain, of course – it was like starring in some veterinarian version of ER… you know, as a mid-aged doctor with a sexy stubble, always surrounded with pretty assistants… but I digress.<br />
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The x-ray pretty much confirmed what our local vet had theorized: it wasn’t a swelling, it was entrails fallen out of their place. There was only one option left now – immediate surgery to avoid any further complications.<br />
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I drove the cat back to the local vet cabinet. They said the surgery would take at least an hour, and as I was tired and hungry, they advised me to take a break and come back later.<br />
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When I came home, Diana (my wife) was already back from work. I explained that the cat was in surgery and I asked her to come with me, because I would need help getting the cat back. I didn’t want to put the freshly operated animal in the trunk, I needed someone to hold her while I was driving. We had a quick snack and then we took off to the vet’s.<br />
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The hour was up when we arrived. The operation was still going. The doctors, with very pale faces, explained that there were some things they didn’t quite expect. Namely, the abdominal tissue that was supposed to be just torn apart, was literally absent. Apparently, the trauma either happened months ago and the torn tissue had time to be shrunk and absorbed, or it was some sort of birth defect and there was no tissue to begin with. Either way, they needed to come up with some sort of solution, like extending the tissue from other parts of the abdomen. In other words, the surgery turned out to be far more complicated than initially expected and they needed more time to finish it. And they said they couldn’t give a 100% guarantee that the cat would survive.<br />
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It was probably one of the longest half an hour in my life. Funny thing how you become attached to the little creatures you take responsibility for. While sitting and waiting in the car with my wife, there was a thought in my mind I was clinging to – “at least we tried.” But it’s never really comforting, now, is it?<br />
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And then they called, and I went inside to face the news. And they invited me inside the operational room, and I saw the cat, on the table, flat on her back, glassy eyes, paws apart like in a funny cartoon where cats get impressed in asphalt, only it wasn’t funny. As they filled me in the details of the surgery, I wasn’t really listening but trying to see if she was breathing…<br />
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In the subsequent few seconds I learned several things: First of all, it wasn’t <i>she</i>, but <i>he</i> (so much with the cat gender identification skills of my dear colleagues). And he was very much alive, just still under anesthesia. Overall, the surgery was successful, although nothing short of a miracle. Now all we could do is wait and see if the restored tissue would hold.<br />
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They put that ridiculous post-operational collar on his neck and we carefully took him to the car, still unconscious. Cats get cold after surgery, as we were told, so Diana tried to keep him warm, while I was driving home.<br />
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As the anesthesia was wearing out, the cat was becoming more and more restless. As expected, he was disoriented, couldn’t walk a straight line and was vigorously trying to tear off the protective collar. He only was relatively calm when he felt my hand on him, so that’s pretty much how I spend that whole evening, lying on the sofa with a semi-conscious cat, half-asleep myself.<br />
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That weekend he started eating and drinking, to our immeasurable joy. With each passing day he got better and better, began moving around and playing more energetically, even too energetically at times, causing us to fear that his stitches wouldn’t hold. Everything pointed out that this catventure was headed to its happy end, we got a new member of the household and he was one lucky son of a… cat. In fact, so lucky that I decided to call him Felix, because it means “happy” or “lucky” in Latin.<br />
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Still, the story wasn’t quite over, yet. In the subsequent days a small, but clearly visible swelling had formed in the operated area, and it refused to go away, so the vets started fearing that some of the internal stitches could have given way or the tissue could have developed another tear. They strongly recommended a follow-up surgery and I, despite Diana’s protests and my own reluctance to subject the animal to another hardship, decided to heed their advice.<br />
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So, two weeks after the first operation, another Friday evening, they performed the second surgery. This time it was quicker and, fortunately, turned out to be almost unnecessary. The tissue turned out to be fully intact, healed and skinned over. The swelling the vets panicked over turned out to be just some liquid gathered in the operated area, which sometimes happens. They removed the liquid and that was it. Unfortunately, they had to make a cut on the side, so they shaved quite a chunk of Felix’s beautiful black hair, making him look a bit weird. But who cares, the most important thing is that the cat was declared completely healthy, and the hair… well, it’ll grow back in spring.<br />
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This is it, folks, the end of this thrilling catventure. We celebrated this Christmas with a new member of the family, who really enjoys being around us. What can be better? So, Happy Holidays from us and Felix the Cat!<br />
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Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-91744639331089358972013-08-25T14:46:00.000+03:002013-08-25T15:06:55.590+03:00The Godfather, Part IIA couple of weeks ago we had some intense Eastern Orthodox infant baptism action, with your humble servant in the role of the Godfather. The infants in question were my wife's first cousins once removed, little fraternal (meaning non-identical) twin boys. Their mother is Catholic by confession, but for some reason she had her daughter christened by Orthodox tradition, and now the boys were to follow their elder sister's footsteps.<br />
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Interestingly, their father is an atheist and, on top of that, they all live in Israel -- the family moved there from Lithuania some 15 years ago, one of the reasons being the father's Jewish ancestry. I know, it's a crazy mix of cultures and traditions, but that's the odd charm of it, I think.<br />
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I'm not the most exemplary Christian in the world, but I already baptized someone when I was young, I know how honorable this whole thing is and, in support of subtle Mafioso references of this blog post, it's an offer you can't refuse -- you don't say "no" when someone asks you to be a godfather, you just accept the honor humbly and readily.<br />
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The action itself took place in the countryside. There's a Russian Orthodox farming community some 40 kms south-east of Vilnius, in the village of Mikniškės (Mikhnovo in Russian). It's a beautiful place with long history of amazing survival through the turmoils of the 20th century, with all its wars, power changes, repressions and all kinds of disasters.<br />
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As we were told, there are currently about 80 people living in the community: priests with their families and common believers of different ages, ethnicity and professions. They lead simple lives, working the fields and greenhouses, living in small, mostly wooden houses.<br />
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The church itself, where the christening took place, is rather small (originally intended to be just a family chapel), but very beautiful, with a skillfully painted interior.<br />
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After the ceremonial part, with wriggling and struggling 3-year-old kids who naturally had no idea what was going on and what that <span class="g-active-word js-active-word"><span class="translation">paunchy</span></span>, bearded old man in funny clothes could possibly want from them, we all spread out exploring the area. The kids got all the fun as the reward for their stoic endurance.<br />
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In conclusion, here's me, the humbly proud godfather, with total number of godchildren increased from one to three in one day. How awesome is that?<br />
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Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-80706362351803367692013-08-14T10:34:00.000+03:002013-08-25T14:51:32.752+03:00Never bring pincers to a tank fight, dude!This is a website header design for an American pest control company, done last summer. Basically, it's all about overkilling a stupid roach with a blast from a tank... sort of. Everybody hates cockroaches, so join the fight!<br />
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You may think this car-tank (or whatever it is) is a fruit of my delusional imagination, but you'd be terribly wrong. That... thing actually exists! It's a classic <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mercury_Marquis" target="_blank">Mercury Marquis</a> with some... er... additions. I changed only a couple of minor details and added a camouflage coloring. Everything else is a true story, bro. What can I say... Americans!<br />
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If you are a cockroach and you're reading this post, stop right there and think twice before messing with this baby. Because that's how these pest control guys roll. Lock 'n load!Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-87799706486162517042013-08-11T12:00:00.001+03:002013-08-25T14:58:05.119+03:00Kvass!Ok, I know I promised the next post would be all warm and fluffy, but it turns out to be more like chilly and sleek, sorry about that. But hey, it's the heat of the summer, who's to complain? Anyway, on to the subject...<br />
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<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kvass">Kvass</a> is a traditional Russian refreshing drink, made of rye bread... wait a minute, this is a Georgian drink we're talking about here. Why would someone make Georgian kvass? Another of life's great mysteries? Well, not really. Fact is, kvass has always been a hugely popular drink in the former Soviet republics and remains so to this day.<br />
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Nothing much to say about the label itself, though. It's traditional, heavily relies on stock images, with the exception of those rye ears, entirely hand made and assembled in Photoshop by yours truly. Done last summer, for a small Georgian enterprise specialized in non-alcoholic refreshing beverages.<br />
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<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-73111433234274336062013-08-04T16:00:00.000+03:002013-08-04T16:10:01.637+03:00Sazandari LemonadesIf you follow this blog, you might know that last year I got a full-time job, which pretty much meant the end of my freelance career. Still, from time to time, I've been able to squeeze some freelance jobs into my schedule. So I'm planning to dedicate the next few posts to some of such works done last year and earlier this year, starting with a series of refreshing drinks from the summer of 2012.<br />
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<i>Sazandar</i> (Georgian form <i>sazandari</i>) is a word of Persian origin, used as the name for the traditional three-man folk bands, popular in 19th century Azerbaijan, Iran, Armenia and Georgia. There's a chain of restaurants in Georgia, named Sazandari, offering traditional Georgian cuisine. Such restaurants often serve exclusive drinks under their own label -- mostly refreshing beverages. This is exactly the case here.<br />
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The task was straightforward: a series of labels with "traditional" (or, rather, pseudo-traditional) elements, in sync with the general style of the interiors and exteriors of the restaurants in question. In plain English it basically means trowing in some wood and stone textures. Oh, and chains! They love chains.<br />
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For the first time, I have used digital matte painting techniques in this design. Again, in plain English it means taking a bunch of moderately crappy photo materials and digitally overpainting them to the point when it all starts looking cool. Learning to work with a graphics tablet finally paid off...<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAeomZqgZrlZaIEj38r6Djunj6prIYFe_Hml5-6y-2R670QnLmb08maSArndOPMMuDnGWjX_kB-fVL279hAKEEytqIrxEFmWWDoAJbY4oPtvaLxZaHXIrrTd4KvlQ18OEy2r6R1pa7qeo/s1600/Sazandari2.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEivAeomZqgZrlZaIEj38r6Djunj6prIYFe_Hml5-6y-2R670QnLmb08maSArndOPMMuDnGWjX_kB-fVL279hAKEEytqIrxEFmWWDoAJbY4oPtvaLxZaHXIrrTd4KvlQ18OEy2r6R1pa7qeo/s200/Sazandari2.png" style="border-style: none;" width="117" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMmLJHdqSmXo7Ocz6G5XUCXEubdScDzpyP1Q3mXTJ45UgN0VrYWarQeD2VZsUWJ6CqRA5mJC2e7wObU5GT4XepxA8yt_mtaf-z881wMjM0Fm0zJye2dcSb5_qAmSAdwSlWQifvp8o6vpb/s1600/Sazandari3.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjIMmLJHdqSmXo7Ocz6G5XUCXEubdScDzpyP1Q3mXTJ45UgN0VrYWarQeD2VZsUWJ6CqRA5mJC2e7wObU5GT4XepxA8yt_mtaf-z881wMjM0Fm0zJye2dcSb5_qAmSAdwSlWQifvp8o6vpb/s200/Sazandari3.png" style="border-style: none;" width="117" /></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IzIDzdq7B-3YO68z9nnpbAOX4nuTWhGSouNNyB8DeiEKdwK0Uud_oFVRoiCJBldFXbkwqAPtNBY6aFXv-k8WVC25cZBbHADXFccHxJSI_2t9EBIipSybzxwnv30y6Uo7C3YUSs_6k0oK/s1600/Sazandari5.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-IzIDzdq7B-3YO68z9nnpbAOX4nuTWhGSouNNyB8DeiEKdwK0Uud_oFVRoiCJBldFXbkwqAPtNBY6aFXv-k8WVC25cZBbHADXFccHxJSI_2t9EBIipSybzxwnv30y6Uo7C3YUSs_6k0oK/s200/Sazandari5.png" style="border-style: none;" width="117" /></a></div><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnop8fBWBI1fJ4GYelMxzpQ_Df4L3zr1tG8IBq60080J6qvufsFyixYARrRR0ppbZSWaJF_K3ONV3M4tAf3P_8ET9HyhyphenhyphenScllqwOEtlDczOgs64FdEjBBvBMClEeb-oPlQlt1NYrCPrOq/s1600/Sazandari4.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWnop8fBWBI1fJ4GYelMxzpQ_Df4L3zr1tG8IBq60080J6qvufsFyixYARrRR0ppbZSWaJF_K3ONV3M4tAf3P_8ET9HyhyphenhyphenScllqwOEtlDczOgs64FdEjBBvBMClEeb-oPlQlt1NYrCPrOq/s640/Sazandari4.png" style="border-style: none;" width="376" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">The old man in a traditional Georgian costume you see in the trademark looks all peaceful an noble, but don't let the looks deceive you! Actually, he's a Frankenstein monster, assembled from different photos and stock materials and heavily overpainted to hide the "stitches". On top of it, he's playing an instrument made of a bloated dead pig. Monster!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWMFZwB6zs2Fg4lrIHA7_cEiJMiJScfspVYAjKK6-2nNoy76v7L3MPEP8B1HkEQ2X7SCqOV7V8Ewz71BwaWWFpqnGwYewsjIsWx04EMQzxwY_TviWnpaqy924_dphp93gAjzS7WHb4hbD/s1600/Sazandari_Trademark.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"><img border="0" height="313" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgGWMFZwB6zs2Fg4lrIHA7_cEiJMiJScfspVYAjKK6-2nNoy76v7L3MPEP8B1HkEQ2X7SCqOV7V8Ewz71BwaWWFpqnGwYewsjIsWx04EMQzxwY_TviWnpaqy924_dphp93gAjzS7WHb4hbD/s400/Sazandari_Trademark.png" style="border-style: none;" width="400" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEHH2bHEDanmPlTQeJdMELtkGwXfHivsOWIbzAI479FfTJ8Dpaj1ImlCrSYf7-3C4T-8qqdYWL2LDulpybpPkaVsqDg7JGIzP2Wbphyphenhyphen_6Xx2MqCiG0Wh1L42Es-K_Xk5J9xRxaW_lWC2Lc/s1600/Sazandari_Trademark.png" imageanchor="1" style="margins: none;"></a> </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;">Ok, enough scary stories. Next time it's gonna be all warm and fluffy, I promise. See ya!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: left;"><br />
</div>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-20427991921174713892013-07-21T18:00:00.000+03:002013-08-25T14:47:09.698+03:00Jazzed & ConfusedLong time, no see. In fact, the last post was more than a year ago. So I guess it's official: I've made the list of super-lazy bloggers. Achievement unlocked.<br />
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Anyway, there is nothing important in this update, just wanted to let you know that I'm still alive. A few days ago I even had a brief surge in my virtually non-existent social life: Diana received an invitation to a Jazz concert along with her husband, who happens to be me, so we went there together, all dressed up to the code.<br />
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The concert was performed by the German State Jazz Orchestra (<a href="http://www.bundesjazzorchester.de/" target="_blank">BuJazzO</a>) and it took place at Vilnius Philharmonic Hall. It was an official event, organized by the German government and attended by the presidents of Germany and Lithuania. So, naturally, the band started with the anthems of Lithuania, Germany and the European Union. I really liked the Jazz arrangement of the Lithuanian anthem. The original is an uplifted, but rather calm march, and what the band played was some crazy-heroic-viking-jazz version of it, with heavy drums and stuff. Really goosebumping.<br />
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In fact, the whole concert was mind-blowing. It was diverse, bold and thoroughly enjoyable even for someone like me, who is far from being a Jazz fan. There was a little surprise in the middle of the concert, too: the Mayor of Klaipeda performed "<span class="userContent"><span class="text_exposed_show">What a Wonderful World" and he not only played remarkably, but also sang in trademark Armstrong growling style, spot on.</span></span><br />
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I don't have any concert photos, but I have a couple of shots from the after-party with me and Diana. Look at us, all shiny and happy.<br />
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And here's me, contemplating over a glass of beer. <br />
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That's it for now. I'm planning to be back with some design-related updates as soon as I can. There's still no budge in the art department, unfortunately. But the summer isn't over yet, so we'll see...Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-53351061342486650082012-04-07T11:53:00.000+03:002012-04-07T11:53:01.310+03:00April in Lithuania<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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This photo was taken a couple of days ago near Vilnius. No further comments.Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-22551007997698212062012-02-02T21:09:00.002+02:002013-07-21T18:10:50.397+03:00A Permanent JobIn case you didn't know, I've been working as a freelance designer since 2003. As of today, this is officially over -- I've got a permanent job at <a href="http://www.stamperija.eu/" target="_blank">Stamperija</a>, a Vilnius-based company specialized in designing and producing postage stamps. My tools of trade will be Photoshop and a graphics tablet. Wish me luck! Something tells me I'm gonna need it...Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-53542917297477884442012-01-30T23:44:00.000+02:002012-02-02T21:10:06.454+02:00The Face of WinterA drawing! Finally. After months of artless life it feels so good to be back on track. But I kinda got rusted, so I needed something plain and simple to re-crank my engine. What can be simpler than a winter landscape in graphite? So here it goes -- <i>The Face of Winter</i>.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3iDbQsUzALs2eDrbsWNxxmPU9vJTpnfHakEfR03Qq9J7CtqFPgvlWO5dXQYw5yJyF44EINwf397oJNy1h3vShrkxpZ8vY_YNih37QgHfUHMIwVtQwrKW3YOd2Q_mppWNXEMFwDyBysRc/s1600/The_Face_of_Winter_2012_Rezo_Kaishauri.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin: 0;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL3iDbQsUzALs2eDrbsWNxxmPU9vJTpnfHakEfR03Qq9J7CtqFPgvlWO5dXQYw5yJyF44EINwf397oJNy1h3vShrkxpZ8vY_YNih37QgHfUHMIwVtQwrKW3YOd2Q_mppWNXEMFwDyBysRc/s400/The_Face_of_Winter_2012_Rezo_Kaishauri.jpg" width="400" /></a><br />
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Actually, there are two faces in there, but I'm sure you've already noticed them both. If you haven't, here's a hint: sometimes clouds are just clouds, but not in this case.<br />
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I know, it looks a little depressive. But this kind of winter, dull and sunless, can be really depressing sometimes. But it also can be almost erotic -- all that untouched, curvy snow...<br />
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And here's the real life inspiration for this drawing: our snowy backyard with that weird apple tree.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6_O_zLYWbfnMW43SS8zpYsj_U9jhe_xBnrrRX_BbamuGLlywlAHLYFtdj6cO-XnD9robDCNhUgBEr2XccEmg6XaHYJRxgUUTWbxZzU1i8LyoVQDLK002OB5mHPN5K50Fu1qoGd3cB6Fg/s1600/Snowy_Backyard.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin: 0;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6_O_zLYWbfnMW43SS8zpYsj_U9jhe_xBnrrRX_BbamuGLlywlAHLYFtdj6cO-XnD9robDCNhUgBEr2XccEmg6XaHYJRxgUUTWbxZzU1i8LyoVQDLK002OB5mHPN5K50Fu1qoGd3cB6Fg/s400/Snowy_Backyard.jpg" width="400" /></a>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-33460761553015059602012-01-24T21:25:00.000+02:002013-07-07T11:13:46.358+03:00Goldfish RebrandingLong time, no see. I seems I'm back to blogging, finally. I know most people expect art-related posts from this blog, but I'm still not quite back on track in that department after the exceptionally busy end of the last year. Hopefully, my "art block" will be over soon. Meanwhile, here's my report on a big design (or, rather, redesign) project, started last year and still going on.<br />
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Okros Tevzi is one of my oldest "foodstuff clients." Contrary to the name, which is Georgian for "goldfish," the fish-related products make up only a tiny part of their assortment -- they are more into semi-prepared foods and meat products. So last year they approached me with this idea of total rebranding, starting with the logo. Their old logo represented a goldfish placed on (or, in some versions, inside) a circle. My task was to retain the symbolism, but make it more simple and modern.<br />
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Usually, making a logo is a time-consuming and laborious work for me. Most of the time I end up with dozens of different versions, painfully searching for forms, colors, visual ideas. But, sometimes, the very first draft turns out to be exactly the thing, making me not to look any further. Fortunately for everyone, this was the case here.<br />
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For those who may not not know: in many countries touched by Russian culture (Georgia is certainly among them) a goldfish represents something more than just a fish variety -- it's a symbol of fulfilling wishes. This fairytale theme, originated by the Brothers Grimm and hugely popularized in Russia by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Alexander_Pushkin" target="_blank">Alexander Pushkin</a> with his <i>Tale of the Fisherman and the Fish</i>, is very well known to Georgians. Fully utilizing this awareness, Okros Tevzi always used slogans related to fulfilling wishes. But I went a bit beyond that, expanding a simple "Make a wish" slogan into a whole logo concept.<br />
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The "general" version of the logo, intended for publicity, business cards, documents, websites and other general usage, resembles an empty box, and comes with the aforementioned slogan, implying the readiness to be filled with the wishes come true. The "specific" versions of the logo, intended to be used on actual products, represent the same box, but filled with different colors: green for semi-prepared foods, red for meat products and blue for fish products.<br />
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Georgian <i>khinkali </i>and Russian <i>pelmeni </i>represent the "flagship" products for many Georgian companies specialized in semi-prepared foods, and Okros Tevzi makes no exception. So, naturally, when it came to trying out the new logo on actual product packaging, they were the first in line.<br />
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After probing various directions, we stopped on a concept derived from the logo idea: a table (sort of) placed in a natural environment, with a white box, showing the product, on top of it. In this case, since the packaging is transparent, the actual product could be visible through the non-printed area inside the box (in the design samples this area is filled with product images for better visualization).<br />
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We made two variations of <i>khinkali</i> -- Traditional and Chopped (hence the big knife), and two of <i>pelmeni</i> -- Siberian (hence the frost) and Italian (hence the Venetian scenery). You probably noticed a cute goldfish chef holding a white fork -- I came up with this mascot somewhere in the process of making the package design demos. It was just a designer's whim, but the client liked it so much that the little guy got himself a permanent job.<br />
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This is only the beginning, as there are loads of Okros Tevzi products waiting in line to be rebranded and redesigned. So, until next!Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-83694073341776955732011-11-11T21:20:00.001+02:002013-07-21T18:04:42.582+03:00Stars and MusicYesterday Diana and I went to the "release party" of <i>Colors of the Desert</i> -- the latest album by Lithuanian progressive rock band <a href="http://www.theskys.com/" target="_blank">The Skys</a>, whose frontman, Jonas Čiurlionis, happens to be Diana's colleague in his "daytime" life -- he's an associate professor of philosophy at Vilnius University.<br />
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The event was held at the Vilnius Planetarium, and that wasn't by accident. The first part -- the presentation of the album -- took place right inside the Planetarium dome. We were sitting there, lights out, stars shining above our heads, some intense prog rock ringing in our ears... Epic! I just wish my neck didn't hurt so much, but hey -- it's really a small price for such a wonderful treat.<br />
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The second part was the buffet party just outside the dome entrance (still inside the building, in case you shrugged at the thought of an open-air buffet in the midst of cold Lithuanian November). I, personally, had a very good time. Eating, drinking, but, most importantly, meeting a bunch of interesting people (who subsequently turned into a bunch of new Facebook friends). It was a crazy mix of English, Lithuanian, Russian and even some Georgian. So much fun for a linguistic junkie like me!<br />
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Well, all this fun and stars and everything seriously backfired the next morning, but hey -- who's complaining. Me wants more!Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-60415070560243993932011-10-30T14:33:00.000+02:002011-10-30T15:14:25.417+02:00Ayran<a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayran">Ayran</a> is a cold drink, made of yoghurt mixed with water, usually salted, sometimes carbonized. Primarily a Turkish beverage, it's a popular drink in many countries around the Black and the Caspian Seas. Despite being so widely spread among our neighbors (Turkey and Armenia in the south, Azerbaijan in the east, Caucasian peoples in the north), the drink somehow managed to avoid Georgia, where it was practically unknown until recently. With the expansion of Turkish businesses into post-Soviet Georgia and opening of many Turkish restaurants in Tbilisi and other major Georgian cities, it was inevitable that the Turkey's most popular drink would eventually find its way to the Georgian market.<br />
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The drink is mostly being imported from Turkey and Armenia, but recently some local companies have started producing their own ayran. One of such companies contacted me a little while ago, ordering the label design for their new-born product. Their only demand was to make green the dominant color, partly in an effort to make it more distinguishable from the local dairy product style with dominant blue/red/white color schemes. Also, for some reason they didn't elaborate on, the label had to feature the Armenian name for ayran -- <i>tan</i>. The rest was entirely up to me.<br />
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I decided to go with a thick, "milky" hand-drawn font for the main title. Then I dug up a nice milk-splash stock image and placed it on a "condensated" background, emphasizing a cold-served product. A tiny bit of "orientalish" ornaments, some fashionable reflections and I was almost set. Almost, because I had to come up with some sort of a logo for the manufacturer.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhOyjpVLZgIWKSy1kgxIeqrGkcv8Ig_aUrtgJeMq46PlqeH_VpIEyHOjzw0KJThY-NiWp0-UsQi8CNDM4Ndrd1gvJbOVYLFd7sqDoldfX2e9DY3ROKk3EKPOAINTj3SQ24bNDDMvzmbD0/s1600/Agapi_Logo.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidhOyjpVLZgIWKSy1kgxIeqrGkcv8Ig_aUrtgJeMq46PlqeH_VpIEyHOjzw0KJThY-NiWp0-UsQi8CNDM4Ndrd1gvJbOVYLFd7sqDoldfX2e9DY3ROKk3EKPOAINTj3SQ24bNDDMvzmbD0/s200/Agapi_Logo.png" style="border: none;" width="200" /></a></div>
The company in question is called Agapi Ltd. <i>Agapi</i> (more correct spelling would be <i>aghapi</i>) is a Georgian version of the Greek word <i>agape</i>, which means "non-corporal love." So I decided to go with a "milk from the heart" theme, visualized quite literally, as you can see.<br />
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Below is the finished label. It's circular, meaning it wraps around the whole diameter of the bottle. Hence the "double" design, so that it remains interesting from more possible angles, leaving the technical parts squeezed in-between the lead design elements.<br />
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And here's a digital simulation of the label attached to the actual bottle, as it would appear on the final product. The bottle is made of glossy white plastic and has a green cap to match the label.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3F8iQFLljj9ltc_W619P0DAPMrhv3PBE4R8mabbqV0P7gxAm-VUvcu7nd1pKUWsklMNzrybccjJtAHaplUSCRkd2TfB_YyuoqSlutFS5LDW_Z7XyNgHwd7-k_7KBgxbZJWnoBHHMwWCC/s1600/Ayran_Prototype.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin: 0;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgG3F8iQFLljj9ltc_W619P0DAPMrhv3PBE4R8mabbqV0P7gxAm-VUvcu7nd1pKUWsklMNzrybccjJtAHaplUSCRkd2TfB_YyuoqSlutFS5LDW_Z7XyNgHwd7-k_7KBgxbZJWnoBHHMwWCC/s400/Ayran_Prototype.jpg" style="border: medium none;" width="132" /></a></div>
<br />Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-36784875482449288212011-09-14T18:38:00.003+03:002011-09-14T18:38:59.027+03:00The Epic Lawn-MakingWe have a huge yard, but with Diana's parents being gardening maniacs, there is hardly an inch of free space in it -- vegetables, flowers and berry shrubs are all over the place. You can't really find an open pitch to set up a sun lounge, roll in the grass, play badminton or practice Tai Chi. So this summer, finally, Diana and I decided to put an end to the vegetable supremacy and fight for our sunbathing rights.<br />
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First, we marked the territory by placing rods (like in Disciples II) and stretching cords between them. For that we chose the patch behind the house, where strawberries had been growing previously (they would be replanted later to a different patch). My father-in-law had already mowed the strawberries, so I just had to dig them over and root them up.<br />
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<i>Just</i>. Actually, that turned out to be an epic struggle lasting for three days. The strawberries weren't exactly cooperative, so the process kinda reminded rooting up the <a href="http://harrypotter.wikia.com/wiki/Mandrake">Mandrakes</a>, except they weren't screaming (to my luck). Can you imagine an underground network of long, stringy roots connecting dozens of plants to each other, like a secret web? That's how strawberry communities grow. You know, social plants make me feel creepy ever since I read Clifford D. Simak's <i>All Flesh Is Grass</i>.<br />
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By the time I was finished with those hive-minded strawberries, I got some really nasty sunburn on my back. Great. Now I have my own farmer's tan... <br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddKUHPGW1K3F_SNB_4ctTxZtgIaqYkqmogXYKmCk4cnNCluPD6BnPGYI8CiWpc8q4WwguAZ-4ZMZ68kGi6xCVQNGTl-YmGpM4FzO6rdYgW1pz374k151Mj6I8cWZLrfwfebjlwyTd7zf8/s1600/Texas_Tan.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgddKUHPGW1K3F_SNB_4ctTxZtgIaqYkqmogXYKmCk4cnNCluPD6BnPGYI8CiWpc8q4WwguAZ-4ZMZ68kGi6xCVQNGTl-YmGpM4FzO6rdYgW1pz374k151Mj6I8cWZLrfwfebjlwyTd7zf8/s320/Texas_Tan.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>See those sleeveless shirt markings? Americans<br />
call this particular type of tan-lines "Texas tan."</i></td></tr>
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Back to the lawn-making. The next step was to enclose the future lawn in a plastic edging to isolate it from the surrounding vegetation, although I suspect even our super-deep (20 cm) edging won't be enough to prevent some especially impudent specimens from trying to invade our lawn. Anyway, planting that edging into the ground wasn't a piece of cake, either. The plastic stripe refused to be buried alive, twisting like a snake in my hands, so it took quite a while.<br />
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Now it was time to buy some grass seeds. After some pondering, we set our choice on a frost-resistant brand. Hopefully, it will survive our harsh falls and springs. Or at least die trying.<br />
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Diana's father, being a lot more experienced farmer than me, volunteered to conduct the sowing part. However, he confessed that he never had actually sown any grass before, only vegetables and such, and issued a disclaimer over the consequences. While my father-in-law was mellowing the soil with a rake, I was gaping at the contraption he had prepared for stomping the seeds into the ground.<br />
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As soon as the seeds were scattered, the stomping part began. Naturally, there were yet more cooperation issues: the seeds didn't seem to be too fond of being trampled into the earth, preferring to be carried away with the wind instead. No matter how hard we tried to stomp them, they just kept laying on the surface, tanning under the sun. Hopefully, sooner or later, they will have no choice but to grow into the soil.<br />
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Thus ends the epic lawn-making. Now all we have to do is wait and see what comes out of it (literally). If everything goes right, we may see the grass popping up in a couple of weeks.Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0Avižieniai, Vilniaus apskritis 14013, Lithuania54.7620227 25.185557254.7436997 25.146075200000002 54.780345700000005 25.2250392tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-41209567438728139152011-08-05T17:17:00.012+03:002011-08-05T20:31:40.792+03:00A Taste of HomelandThere are some foods which are almost religiously revered by Georgians, who generally like to have a good snack. <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shashlik">Shashlik</a> (<span style="font-style: italic;">mtsvadi</span> in Georgian) is among them, surpassed in the Georgian "food charts" perhaps only by <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Khinkali">khinkali</a>. Since I happen to be Georgian, I share the common genetic weakness for shashlik, naturally.<br /><br />As with any sort of grilled meat, there is no tastier shaslik than the one made outdoors, preferably in nature's lap, with your own hands. The process itself is a whole ritual, gradually preparing your gastric juices for the grand finale. Luckily, I live in a countryside (sort of), and I have a wife who knows how to marinate the meat overnight.<br /><br />Ever since I moved to Lithuania, making shashlik in the backyard became one of my most persistent obsessions, as if it was some sort of connection to my homeland. We even bought mangal and skewers earlier this summer, but something had been constantly preventing us from actually using them -- busy schedule, unpredictable Baltic weather, etc.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs_6HOakxKw0pbUrFdLasLSj0bstRG0ThcGd0AU2awqu57AJvr8BBRIA95iLCvJ-ny8-ajXlp7obcZyLsC7sj4RkRsYakoFx6PSee3G5-kc5ZsS4OJ-It0J4vtDQ8RSWKSt3-xIjecwyu/s1600/Preparing_Charcoal.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjcs_6HOakxKw0pbUrFdLasLSj0bstRG0ThcGd0AU2awqu57AJvr8BBRIA95iLCvJ-ny8-ajXlp7obcZyLsC7sj4RkRsYakoFx6PSee3G5-kc5ZsS4OJ-It0J4vtDQ8RSWKSt3-xIjecwyu/s200/Preparing_Charcoal.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637399031067086898" border="0" /></a>The other day, at very long last, we were able to test the equipment in action. Diana's father helped preparing the charcoal (we used birch logs for that), and when it was all smouldering, I skewed the pieces of marinated meat and placed them on the mangal, while Diana was taking pictures of this event of the month.<br /><br />Not everything went as smooth as I expected, though. Apparently, we should have had produced more charcoal, because the heat turned out to be not enough for a fast grill and it all dragged on for an eternity.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYjTh9QXBx2ZsiQzFeZjKnfmR4M0wuR8jr5o1ePlTmqhi3I_v0yhfQmL8JqkOJ0jP1NhTQPGXNn633TAoeqwOKoBB1PgWLypmmLFS4i2g4ULgPV-fslmnVwtpZHCNmgk5Kkp-TbGcgZN5/s1600/Waiting_for_Shashlik.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKYjTh9QXBx2ZsiQzFeZjKnfmR4M0wuR8jr5o1ePlTmqhi3I_v0yhfQmL8JqkOJ0jP1NhTQPGXNn633TAoeqwOKoBB1PgWLypmmLFS4i2g4ULgPV-fslmnVwtpZHCNmgk5Kkp-TbGcgZN5/s400/Waiting_for_Shashlik.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637401121629193618" border="0" /></a>But the wait was really worth it, I must say. A little taste of homeland, if you will. Although, I've noticed that shashlik is quite popular among Lithuanians, too -- making <span style="font-style: italic;">šašlykas</span>, as it's called here, is one of the favorite weekend pastimes for many locals. Skanaus!<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhIFY9t95CtpghiTqFOMtEmnZrAyziDKPPetzqPfZXyD7pTxSrJx8pCtFfdbXUCzHm22hfjb9XocYm8zag1WU8zJICUI_9PvzfGqgn9aOg4CwKeAGJ2XSwqLQZP2XqOVe26uDMhCBu62b/s1600/Shashlik.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhhIFY9t95CtpghiTqFOMtEmnZrAyziDKPPetzqPfZXyD7pTxSrJx8pCtFfdbXUCzHm22hfjb9XocYm8zag1WU8zJICUI_9PvzfGqgn9aOg4CwKeAGJ2XSwqLQZP2XqOVe26uDMhCBu62b/s400/Shashlik.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637412261556413666" border="0" /></a>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3682430656510380603.post-21684126559163424342011-07-31T11:15:00.011+03:002013-08-14T10:37:49.833+03:00All About OrganizingA couple of months ago I received quite a challenging order. My task was to design leading elements for the website of a client who unclutters and organizes office spaces. The website is called <span style="font-style: italic;">All About Organizing</span>.<br />
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The ultimate goal was to create a sort of triptych, illustrating the three stages of the uncluttering process: the assessment, the organizing, and the final result. But first, I had to make a cartooned character of the lady who owns the business, in three different poses, with different expressions, suitable for each stage.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk87PnuRBHhIH0IiQlVf-qY0BfQuloPFo-rrXzNouOhySwMsMf8DpZAb2FTOjIIDtA1dAFLSyPXXD_dAnoZwRf-KJBtYYTWMNqlzXQ2UbU-rbQ9fnEKNw-qa0PXep7CuKlok9DstmoTYLu/s1600/AAO_Lady.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635432779776017106" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhk87PnuRBHhIH0IiQlVf-qY0BfQuloPFo-rrXzNouOhySwMsMf8DpZAb2FTOjIIDtA1dAFLSyPXXD_dAnoZwRf-KJBtYYTWMNqlzXQ2UbU-rbQ9fnEKNw-qa0PXep7CuKlok9DstmoTYLu/s400/AAO_Lady.png" style="border: none; cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 307px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>The next step was creating the background for the triptych, representing a fictional office in three conditions: messy, being uncluttered, and glisteningly organized. I started with a perfectly organized room and then messed it up as much as I could -- it was the easiest way.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizex2DHASyK3GHPF6Cah4iqA6Lcr36Vs12V2QFUTF77anj7L8_14gbH0q0fWmMfj1k_QeZHyAoGYWGg8Yx3nu36YLTeeJShclVBn9ougOHIVPy37BXg0mftHePgLfTsRmC7zfnr1YMlqkN/s1600/AAO_Office.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635437502452563026" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizex2DHASyK3GHPF6Cah4iqA6Lcr36Vs12V2QFUTF77anj7L8_14gbH0q0fWmMfj1k_QeZHyAoGYWGg8Yx3nu36YLTeeJShclVBn9ougOHIVPy37BXg0mftHePgLfTsRmC7zfnr1YMlqkN/s400/AAO_Office.png" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 111px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Now all I had to do was to bring the organizing lady into the action. Below you can see the final result, ready to be incorporated in the website header.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5rBAw6HiE2NE5xrnuZ7wBDmGquiu9vgsYznV4aTAUVUYXCA9I6eTHMxzxewCFObRG-hmOtNq9QGOUBN345q1SVVPE8v27By7X1laAsp3MGjGXCrPg9mo8SezLvpqHDbhooJDmBRljuNO/s1600/AAO_Tapestry.png"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5635439141223914418" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk5rBAw6HiE2NE5xrnuZ7wBDmGquiu9vgsYznV4aTAUVUYXCA9I6eTHMxzxewCFObRG-hmOtNq9QGOUBN345q1SVVPE8v27By7X1laAsp3MGjGXCrPg9mo8SezLvpqHDbhooJDmBRljuNO/s400/AAO_Tapestry.png" style="cursor: hand; cursor: pointer; display: block; height: 111px; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; width: 400px;" /></a>Rezo Kaishaurihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08340111822511176644noreply@blogger.com0