The feeling of someone breathing against his cheek woke Ming Li from a reather confused dream, he turned, still half asleep, and found himself nose to nose with an eager-looking gray mare, he was stretched under a blossoming acacia tree, at the edge of a clearing, not far off he could see a seldom trodden path,almost grown over.

He got up and checked his mount and equipment: the horse looked worthy of a prince, the young man hoped she was also sweet tempered, the only animal he had ever ridden was his father’s donkey when, as a child, he took him out to graze.

 He opened the bag, thinking about breakfast, it held some spiced bread and nothing else, the small money purse was empty…

“’The food, money and clothes you will need’, she said, we’ll see at lunch time!” he told himself. Meanwhile he was getting ready to leave.He wrapped the sword,a blade of great craftmanship, in his cloak. To him it was  more  a danger than an help, there was the risk that, along the road, some well-born cockerel, seeing that sword, might want to challenge him, and then, for sure, Ming Li would not be able to reach the Yellow Mountains.

Hesitantly, he mounted the mare, fortunately she did not react and, as soon as Ming Li spurred her on she started off at a fast, but smooth and regular gait.

“I really hope you will continue like this, my beauty”, said Ming Li to the horse,   “ then we will get along very well. You need a name though, I think I’ll call you ‘Mist’ what do you think?”.

The mare snorted and tossed her head, as if she agreed, and so the matter was settled.  

They travelled for weeks, sometimes alone, sometimes joining  groups of pilgrims or merchant caravans, lodging in inns, asking hospitality in temples or sleeping in the open when they couldn’t find anywhere else; in the purse and in the bag there was always exactly what was needed.

One evening, going through a wood, they stopped near a woodcutter’s hut.

Ming Li looked around, searching for the owner. The man  was a short distance away, he was bent over a bush, his arms deep into it, when he straightened, exultant, he held a big raven in his hands, turning to go back to the hut, the woodcutter saw the newcomer.

“I stoned it on the wing, but it almost got away”, he said. “May I be of use, Lord?” he added cautiously.

I wanted to ask your hospitality for tonight. But, why did you capture a raven? It’s a useful, good animal”.

“That’s why, M’lord. Tonight I’ll roast it, it has been long since I had such a dinner”.

 “I have food with me” proposed Ming Li, “I’ll share it with you for a place for me and the horse tonight; as to the raven, I’ll ransom him; I’ll give you three silver coins, agreed?” “ It’s yours, M’lord”, said the woodcutter, accepting  before that rich, mad stranger could change his mind.

As soon as he got the money he busied himself cooking dinner, after having eaten he took his sleeping mat and, leaving the hut to Ming Li, he went to sleep in the open.

While he was currying Mist, after dinner, Ming Li was cursing his own stupidity:

“Three silver coins!”, he muttered,” the man was to be paid, all right, but a woodcutter doesn’t earn that much in his whole life…for that much money father could buy Old Wang’s fields, those he’s been dreaming about for years. What has possessed me to pay that much for a mere bird?”

Perched on top of the pole Mist was tied to, the raven was looking at him with clever eyes, as if saying “Wait, and you will see”, but Ming Li was thinking of home and didn’t notice.

To be continued...

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Note: in China the raven is seen as a symbol for filial piety, it is said that a raven will feed its elerly parents as they fed it as a fledging.

After a bountiful breakfast which, regardless of his worries, Ming Li fully enjoyed (he had slept too often on an empty stomach in the past to let good food go wasted), he was taken to the princess' presence.

 “ I hope you are fully rested, I suppose there are many questions you wish answered, I will answer to the best of my knowledge”.

“I thank you, princess. First of all,  Is it known how this curse may be broken?”

“In the same way it was cast upon us; sprinkling  on us, gathered in the great hall, the pollen of the blue peony that blossoms every two hundred years on the shore of Dongting Lake”.

 “But, if it needs two hundred years to bloom... Is this the proper time?”

“ Do not worry, the Dragon King has the pollen harvested, he always carries some on his person, in a little silver brocade purse”.

“ Where is the Dragon now? In the lake?”

“ No, until the full moon of Mid-Autumn  he will be a guest of his third cousin, the King of the Yellow Mountains.
You will have to go alone, Ming Li, he would immediately recognize anyone of us, but I will do my outmost to help you, my people and my riches are yours to command”.

“Is there anyone at your court who knows the way to the Yellow Mountains, Your Highness?” .

“ Yes, the commander of my guard knows it well, and in the library you will find some maps, he will show you”.

“ I thank you, and assure you that, if there is a way to succeed, with the gods’ help I will find it.”

“ I never doubted it: my people will take care of you and your every need.
I will see you again before your departure Ming Li…and upon your return”.

 The following days where spent making preparations until Ming Li felt ready. By then he knew the story of the Dragon King of Dongting Lake since the day he had hatched, during the reign of good Emperor Yao, and the road for the Yellow Mountains as if he himself had built it.

 That evening Meihuang went to him: “ My thoughts will accompany you”, she said, “ and even though you must travel alone you will have all the help I can give.

Tonight you will fall asleep here, but tomorrow you will wake up at the borders of my domain. You will have a fast horse and a sword as sharp as the North Wind during the Great Cold,in your purse you will always find the money you might need, and in the bag food and the appropriate clothes. This is what I can do.

Gradually, while the group was moving forward, the light grew stronger, and, at long last, he could see his kidnappers… “Gibbons?! Why should apes have kidnapped me? All this doesn’t make any sense, Probably I’m at “The Immortals’ Grove” still, I’m dreaming, and in a short while the owner will wake me up because he has to close”.

“You are not dreaming Ming Li, come!”,  the mysterious voice was heard again. A short distance away the corridor widened out, becoming a great hall: the walls were made of jade, in colours and hues Ming Li had never seen before, pillars of jasper, alabaster, agate and rock-crystal held up the majestic vault in which were set myriads of precious stones,their light illuminated the whole cave.  

The hall was full of gibbons of every shape, size and hue; above them, wherever it was possible to perch, there where many-coloured birds:diamond birds, kingfishers, humming birds, lyrebirds,birds of paradise, peacocks, and above them all reigned a magnificent phoenix.

“Come nearer,  Ming Li”, said the bird.When he did, still astonished and  frightened by all the strange things he saw , the phoenix spoke again: “I am Meihuang, princess of the mountain fairies, I ask forgiveness for the way I had you brought here but we all need your help, are you willing to listen to my story?” .

Ming Li was so taken by Meihuang’s musical voice, he did not realize she was waiting for an answer until a big, black gibbon with a rather unfriendly mien tapped him on the shoulder.

 “ I listen, my lady, and will do what I can to help you…”

 “Years ago the Dragon King of Dongting Lake proposed marriage to me, I refused; sadly the Dragon King has a foul temper, he took offence at my refusal and this is his vengeance: he has changed my dignitaries into gibbons and me and my ladies into birds, and in these shapes we will remain, until I accept his offer, or a hero frees us from the curse.

Only one of great courage and intelligence can succeed, are you willing to try, Ming Li? I will be forever grateful…”  

What chances does a young man have in such a circumstance? Entranced by Meihuang’s words,with  wine-muddled thoughts, and not at all certain that the gibbons would have allowed him to leave if he refused, Ming Li accepted the princess’ request and was taken to the guest lodgings to rest, till the following day.

When I shop for groceries at the usual place I always stop at the flower stand.

This Friday I noticed there were a lot of miniature roses out and had a look, not planning to buy any, I already had 6 at home and those for sale were the usual pinks, white and reds...

Until this one stopped me in my tracks, and consequently came home with me.

 
This autumn' s minis all seem to have the flower shape of this one, I love it. the only thing I don't like is that I couldn't find anywere the name of this variety,

...and no active community on LJ about miniature roses? Hmmm

current mood: curious

…And my prints are even more gorgeous that I thought they would be.

Some years ago I had serious plans to set up a small publishing house specialized in inter-cultural  books for children. I had a partner interested in the idea , a  kindergarten teacher friend very keen in inter-cultural issues ready  to work with us as a consulent, and an illustrator who liked our ideas and the texts we had submitted to him and whose work and attitude we loved.

I'd done my research and the results were encouraging, the demand was there but the niche was still empty, there were at most a few translated editions of American and British books that didn't really apply to our specific situation with regards to immigation.

I and my would-be partner took a course aimed at women who wanted to set up their own business, through my parents I found a local printer willing to do small runs 'on demand', we had a couple of series planned and I was writing like mad and planning the set-up of the office at home.

And then my partner changed her mind.

I could not afford the expenses needed, on my own, and so 'Four Seas Publishing' was shelved.

But the finished works sitting there keep bothering me, there is a series of stories from all over the world told in simple rhymes (Gotokuji could fit nicely in there too) there's a series of rhymes about a curious cat playing havoc in the house and ending up in the hospital every time (we planned it as an educational series about domestic dangers, traffic and the like). 

There is also a prose fairy-tale set in China about a young man called Ming Li, the story sort of wrote itself one summer and just wouldn't let me be until I finished it, my mother-in-law illustrated it, years later, and then proceeded to self-publish it in deluxe size.

Now, don't misunderstand me. I'm happy she loved it enough to decide to do this, and that big book with its thick paper and large illustrations is a beauty.
...but it doesn't fit anywhere and it's way too expensive and delicate to be bought by school libraries or to be given to children as a gift, it is a book that needs to be kept with care and Heaven forbid anyone could leave the mark of fingers sticky with marmelade on the page.

It is not what I wanted.

I wanted a book a parent and a child could curl up with, beautifully illustrated but sturdy and easy to hand,  one of the books I, as a child, would have turned to again and again, to day-dream over and learn from without realizing it, and one that would be in in a price-range that made it easily replaceable in case of  kitchen-table disasters or artistically inclined younger siblings.    

Nowadays there are options like Lulu.com, and maybe my dream is, once again, a possibility.

For publication, I translated 'Ming Li and the Charmed Phoenix'   in English from the original Italian, beginning tonight I'll post the tale here in instalments, I'd love to know what you all think of it, if you feel so inclined.

Thank you for reading. 

The Ravens’Call

 We are the silent messengers

Sent off to remind you

Of things left in the past

Gathering dust and years

Thought… Memory…
 

We are the soul’s malaises

That prod you on and on

Out of the beaten path

Bleeding on thorns and fears

Thought… Memory…  

 
We are the winged shadows

Who force you to look

Up, for a change, at last

To clouds, and shapes, and dreams

 
Thought… Memory…  

Menzoberranzan

current mood: giggly

Since 1978 Italy has a National Health Service that is partly controlled by the central government (that, for instance sets the minimum level of assistance that has to be available country wide) and  partly by regional and district-based agencies.

Every citizen and legal foreign resident is subscribed to the National Health Service, upon inscription s/he receives an ‘Health Card’ with an individual code and s/he (or a parent in the case of minors) chooses a family doctor and, if needed a pediatrician, in a list of available practitioners (that is the ‘default’ doctor one normally sees, but one can change his/her family doctor or see one who practices in a private study).

Seeing your family doctor, staying in state hospitals, seeing specialists and having medical exams (when prescribed by the family doctor) is mostly free, in some cases the patient pays a fixed fee we call ‘ticket’ (in my experience depending on the exam either 18 or  36 euros).

People under 6 or above 65 whose families earns less than 36.151,98 euros per year, people on low pensions, and  people out of work are exempt from paying the ticket.

Everybody can always choose to go in a private hospital or to a privately practicing doctor, in that case the patient pays the fees unless the clinic or doctor have a convention with the National Health Service, in which case the Service covers the expenses.To have a convention, an hospital, clinic or medical practitioner has to abide to specific requirements as to level of care, technology and structure.  

Drugs are sorted in classes, some are free, for some the patient pays a part of the cost and others are to be paid in full.

The service is financed through taxes

Is it perfect? No.  Are there abuses or cases of malpractice? Yes. Could it be improved? Of course. But for instance in my own region the financial  balance of the Health Service is  in the black, and when I needed a mammogram I was able to get one in the nearest hospital in just  2 days spending 36 €.

BTW a level of free health-care (although less comprehensive) is also granted to illegal aliens.      

Yesterday, among my prompts for the folk-tales' themed poetry fishbowl there was one about a much loved part of my childhood.
I've always been addicted to tales, and since I was very little a big book of tales from all over the world has been a regular gift for my birthday (those were published in instalments, my parents had started buying them 'for the children' a few years before marrying and had them bound).
So a lot of my free time was spent with Little Ida, Elsa and her swan brothers, Donkeyskin, the gold child and the silver child, the frog princess, Vasilissa, Urashimataro, the Dragon king of Lake Dongting and many others. Among them, though I loved a series of stories with two recurring characters : the wise, stern ruler of a splendid, magical and harsh city and his trusted right-hand man, two people who had the habit of walking incognito through their city to see things as they really were.

I lost count of the hours I spent reading those tales and daydreaming about them, following Harun the Rightly-Guided and the Vizier Ja'far through the street of my dream-city, Baghdad at the height of its glory.

Yesterday, my prompt about 'Harun and Ja'far walking through the streets of ancient Baghdad' twisted in my hands in un-expected ways, becoming 'Harun and Ja'far walk through the streets of today's Baghdad'  and this was born, in homage and gratitude for those stories, the people who dreamt them and those who kept them alive.


Baghdad Nights