luni, 21 ianuarie 2013

Curatenie in casa

Am apelat la o firma de curatenie si am fost multumit. Preturile nu au fost exagerate iar rezultatul a fost imbucurator. Au folosit produse de curatenie profesionale si au curatat fiecare obiect si colt al casei lasand in urma lor curatenia mult dorita.

Cu ocazia sarbatorilor si din cauza programului incarcat voi apela cu incredere din nou la serviciile unei firme de curatenie. Angajatii acestora lucreaza in echipa si sunt supravegheati de un superior.

Firma la care am apelat a fost foarte serioasa si au meritat toti banutii cheltuiti asa. Cred ca se numea Ovimarcleaning daca nu ma insel.

vineri, 7 octombrie 2011

Casco ieftin. Asigurari online ieftine

Asigurarile online sunt eficiente pentru timpul dumneavoastra. Sunt usor de realizat iar ofertele sunt dintre cele mai bune. Asigurarile online au cele mai ieftine tarife pentru asigurarea RCA, asigurarea Casco,asigurarea obligatorie de locuinte, asigurari medicale, asigurare de viata.

Asigurari online sunt o metoda simpla si eficienta pentru alegerea dumneavoastra. Aici puteti gasi o gama variata de asigurari. Online preturile pot fi comparate, analizate atent chiar din fata computerului personal ! 

marți, 15 martie 2011

An Image

You know how some images stick in your mind for years, even though they may not mean anything very much; may not even be beautiful? I have a ruined hut in my mind which is like that. I had seen it in Chakwal, Pakistan, for a few minutes, in between some other things. I have written about my visit to Chakwal already.

My sister visited me in November, bringing with her a box of slides of Pakistan which I had left with her. Most of them have a nasty purplish overlay, which I've been trying to clear away through the magic of Photoshop. I was scanning the slides from Chakwal, and found one of the hut. Fittingly, perhaps, it was ruined; I couldn't bring it to life. And yet the photograph succeeds for me, because it suggests something coloured by the imagination:

I love the little tree, which someone carefully planted beside the door -- I had forgotten it. This is what I wrote:

It was the most rudimentary structure, enclosed within a low stone wall. The pale stones, mud mortar crumbling away, the half-fallen thatch of the roof through which blue sky was visible, the rotting door, the broken wooden bedstead -- all seemed touching. I wondered about the lives it had contained, and why they had left it. The air was very quiet, sunny, clear and cold.


Here I am, still (mentally) in the Salt Range, in Pakistan. As I was scanning my slides I got attracted to one of a ruined Hindu temple at Ketas, and decided to try to paint it. It seemed to exemplify what attracted me to that place: an austere beauty, a limited pallette of colours, the way the buildings seemed to merge with the earth. Here's what I posted about this temple earlier. I saw it in 1986:
In nearby Ketas a ruined Hindu temple complex straddled the main road. On one side of the road caves were cut into the cliff, on the other a sacred pool had declined into a marsh. Behind the pool were a fort, two large buildings with domes like inverted lotuses, and a few whitewashed shrines with plain yellow-washed domes.

No one could tell me to which god the temple had been dedicated. Later I read that it had been a temple of Shiva. The pool was full of Shiva's tears, which fell when his wife Sati died. The place used to be a centre of pilgrimage -- Hindus came to bathe in the pool -- but it was now very dilapidated. The temple was situated in such a way that it controlled the road, which was at this point a pass between low cliffs. According to the British District Gazetteer for 1904, "with some exceptions these priests are ignorant and quarrelsome, and are by no means popular in the neighbourhood." They used to extort tolls from travellers through the pass.

Squatters lived in the buildings now. A boy sat on a roof, reading a book beside a petaled dome. Behind the temple a hamlet sprawled beside a few cultivated fields.

Several Things

I'm on vacation, first of all. Hurray for wi-fi!

Secondly, a few days back I was able once again to see the blogsites which had been banned by the government earlier - blogspot, typepad, geocities. Many ISPs had lifted the ban earlier; mine, Hathway, was apparently one of the last to let go. No notice of imposition, and none of lifting: one day it was all just there again.

Thirdly, I am amusing myself with a little pamphlet I made out of old wedding invitations:

I'm filling it up and posting the pictures on my sketch blog, for those who are interested in this kind of thing: fire star arts.

That's about it, I guess. It's so lovely in Bangalore right now - soft air, a breeze making the most beautiful sighing sound in the branches of the trees, birds with more melodious cries than those of my household crows. As in the beginning of every vacation, it's hard to imagine ever leaving.

Independence Day

August 15 is Indian Independence Day. Last night someone from Guest Relations called us and said that the hotel was having a flag-raising at 8:00 this morning, and invited us to attend. To my surprise, R agreed – he avoids ceremonies of any kind, and we never get up before 8:30. But we duly walked up to the hotel gate at five minutes to eight. A group of employees was arrayed around the flagpole; the security guards in their uniforms were trying to look military. Coffee and Indian sweets were kept ready at tables to one side. One of the staff came up to us holding a tray covered with pins in the colours of the Indian flag: saffron white green. R picked out a flag pin, I chose a small rosette shape. Then we waited. A few hotel guests trickled in, but most were staff. 8:00 came and went and R, always obsessed with time, began to be impatient. Finally, at 8:10, a car drove in the gate: the Manager had arrived. He drove a little beyond where we stood, got out and hurried back to the flagpole. As he passed us, R showed him his watch and said, “Independence came late to India.” (He told us afterwards that he had attended the Chief Minister’s flag-raising, which had been late.)

The flag was already at the top of the flagpole, folded into a small bundle. The Manager pulled the rope and unfurled the flag, from which flower petals showered onto the watchers below. Everyone applauded, and a tinny recording of the national anthem was played. The Manager shook hands with the assembled staff members, and we went to breakfast.

In the afternoon we will fly back home. When we scheduled our return for Independence Day we didn’t think twice about it; now, with the new state of high alertness, and an additional warning for today, we are dreading the prospect of delays at the airport. All passengers must now arrive at the airport 90 minutes before the flight time (for, in our case, a 20 minute flight). We don’t know whether we can carry on the laptop, my camera, R’s camera bag crammed with lenses – none of which we would like to pack into our suitcases.

It will all happen, one way or another. This day will slide into the past, and tomorrow morning I will wake up in hot Chennai, and walk downstairs to start the day, as if this place, with its concerns and ceremonies, never existed.

Carta de respuesta a Jovito Rivas Pérez

Quisiera replicar con esta carta las declaraciones realizadas en esta Tribuna por un militante de psdg-psoe de Vigo, que formo parte de una gestora designada a dedo hace 3 años, con total desprecio por las normas democratitas.

Según sus declaraciones en lo único que a ha usted ha acertado es, en que los militantes, mas de dos tercios, reclaman su derecho a no ser excluidos en el proceso de elección de candidatos a la alcaldía de Vigo. .

En dicha asamblea la totalidad de los asistentes, mas de 350, votaron en su mayoría y dando su apoyo a la solicitud anteriormente comentada, con la excepcion de 7 militante que votaron en contra, entre los que me supongo que usted estaría entre ellos.

Tacha usted de ejecutiva Cautiva, y desde mi entender eso es hablar por no estar callado. Es de notar su necesidad de protagonismo, asi como de su alergia a las urnas.

Es curioso que todas estas afirmaciones vengan de usted, que ha pertenecido a una gestora designada a dedo y que cuando los socialistas de Vigo recuperaron su capacidad de decidir, con libertad su futuro, enviaron a sus componentes ,entre ellos a usted, al baúl de los recuerdos.

Quisiera recordarle que la democracia mana del pueblo y de las urnas y que en esta ocasión la mayoría de militancia se ha decantado por una opción, que le guste a usted o no, es fruto de democracia. Es de lamentar que usted nunca haya conseguido que lo eligiesen sus compañeros, le recomiendo humildad y prudencia.

Seria interesante que reflexione. A nadie salvo a los autoritarios ,les gusta que otros tomen decisiones por la mayoría.. Así no, señor mío, así no. Libertad, por ti vivo.
Carta publicada en Faro de Vigo