Podcasts about Ji

České premiéry, ale i známé tváře. Přesně takový byl 23. ročník festivalu Colours of Ostrava. V industriálním areálu vystoupili umělci ze 23 zemí a někteří z nich měli před podiem opravdu nespočet fanoušků. Celý týden byl v Ostravě i náš hudební reportér Jiří Štefl, se kterým teď festival zhodnotíme.

Listováním deníkovými záznamy Jiřinky začalo další setkání. Pak přišly na stůl dvě Jiřinčiny kuchařské knihy a v nich recept Jiřího Krampola na americký salát.

České premiéry, ale i známé tváře. Přesně takový byl 23. ročník festivalu Colours of Ostrava. V industriálním areálu vystoupili umělci ze 23 zemí a někteří z nich měli před podiem opravdu nespočet fanoušků. Celý týden byl v Ostravě i náš hudební reportér Jiří Štefl, se kterým teď festival zhodnotíme.Všechny díly podcastu Seriál Radiožurnálu můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Jana Šustová nahlédla do života druhé generace Vietnamců v rámci vietnamských večerek. Oleksandra Simochko si povídala s Ilnarou Dudash, předsedkyní organizace Ukrajinská iniciativa Jižní Moravy a ředitelkou Ukrajinského centra v Brně. Lidija Stevanović natočila rozhovor s Vladimirem Tepavčevićem, který se před více než 30-ti lety kvůli válce v Jugoslávii přestěhoval do Česka. Moderuje: Tatiana Čabáková. Připravila: Tajana Mančalová.

Fluent Fiction - Mandarin Chinese: Serendipity at the Summer Palace: Inspiration Through Connection Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/zh/episode/2026-07-18-22-34-01-zh Story Transcript:Zh: 夏天的颐和园总是那么美丽，湖水闪烁着阳光，凉亭藏在郁郁葱葱之中。En: The Xiàtiān, or summer, at the Yíhéyuán, or the Summer Palace, is always so beautiful.Zh: 湖水闪烁着阳光，凉亭藏在郁郁葱葱之中。En: The lake water sparkles in the sunlight, and the pavilions are hidden among the lush greenery.Zh: 梅走在长廊里，手里握着小巧的素描本。En: Méi walked along the long corridor, holding a small sketchbook in her hand.Zh: 她是本地的艺术家，正在寻找创作灵感。En: She is a local artist, seeking inspiration for her creations.Zh: 最近，她感到艺术的方向有些模糊。En: Lately, she felt the direction of her art had become a bit blurry.Zh: 简则是另一个故事。En: Jiǎn, on the other hand, is a different story.Zh: 他是个历史爱好者，正忙着准备一个关于颐和园的演讲。En: He is a history enthusiast, busy preparing a presentation about the Summer Palace.Zh: 他需要独特的见解来打动导师们。En: He needs unique insights to impress his mentors.Zh: 正午的太阳灼热，梅决定在湖边的一个凉亭里歇息。En: The midday sun was scorching, so Méi decided to rest in a pavilion by the lake.Zh: 不久，简也来到这里。En: Not long after, Jiǎn also arrived.Zh: 同样为了躲避炎热，他踏进凉亭时，遇见了微笑的梅。En: Seeking shelter from the heat as well, he stepped into the pavilion and met Méi with a smile.Zh: 凉风轻抚，水面微波荡漾。En: A gentle breeze stroked the surface of the water, creating tiny ripples.Zh: 梅看着简，友好地打了个招呼。En: Méi looked at Jiǎn and greeted him warmly.Zh: 简微微一笑，坐在梅旁边。En: He replied with a slight smile and sat down next to her.Zh: 他们开始谈论彼此的目的和烦恼。En: They started discussing their respective goals and troubles.Zh: 梅说：“我需要新的灵感，但最近总是觉得画不出想象中的东西。”En: Méi said, “I need new inspiration, but lately I can't seem to draw what's in my imagination.”Zh: 简回答：“我也有困难。En: Jiǎn responded, “I'm having difficulties too.Zh: 我必须准备一个重要的演讲。然而，我觉得自己缺少独特的视角。”En: I have to prepare an important presentation, yet I feel like I'm lacking a unique perspective.”Zh: 不久后，天空开始变得阴沉，一场夏季暴风雨突然来临。En: Soon after, the sky turned gloomy, and a sudden summer storm arrived.Zh: 他们一起躲在凉亭下，雨声敲击着屋顶，反而带来宁静。En: They stayed under the pavilion together, the sound of the rain tapping the roof brought a sense of tranquility.Zh: 在这样的氛围下，他们开始深入交谈。En: In this atmosphere, they began a deep conversation.Zh: 梅注意到简对于历史的热情，“也许换个角度来看颜色和历史的结合，能给我新的灵感。”En: Méi noticed Jiǎn's passion for history, “Perhaps looking at the combination of color and history from a different angle could give me new inspiration.”Zh: 简若有所思地点点头，“而你对艺术的独特理解，也许正是我在寻找的新视角。”En: Jiǎn nodded thoughtfully, “And your unique understanding of art may be the new perspective I am searching for.”Zh: 雨停后，他们都感到轻松了许多。En: After the rain stopped, they both felt much more at ease.Zh: 梅找到了她所需的灵感，开始着手新的画作。En: Méi found the inspiration she needed and began working on a new painting.Zh: 简则充满自信，准备回去完善他的演讲。En: Jiǎn, filled with confidence, prepared to go back and perfect his presentation.Zh: 自那以后，他们常在颐和园见面，分享各自的进步。En: Since then, they often met at the Summer Palace to share their progress.Zh: 从凉风习习的午后同行到黄昏时分的漫步，他们的友情渐渐升温为暖暖的情感。En: From leisurely afternoons with a cool breeze to twilight strolls, their friendship gradually warmed into a tender emotion.Zh: 梅重新找到了艺术的方向，而简也在自己的领域中获得了新的动力。En: Méi rediscovered her artistic direction, while Jiǎn found new motivation in his field.Zh: 他们都变得更加自信，对未来充满期待。En: They both became more confident and full of anticipation for the future.Zh: 颐和园那年的夏天，见证了他们的成长与相遇。En: The Summer Palace witnessed their growth and encounter that summer.Zh: 故事在此告一段落，然而，他们的旅程才刚刚开始。En: This story comes to a temporary end, but their journey has only just begun. Vocabulary Words:sparkles: 闪烁pavilions: 凉亭lush: 郁郁葱葱sketchbook: 素描本artist: 艺术家blurry: 模糊enthusiast: 爱好者presentation: 演讲insights: 见解scorching: 灼热shelter: 躲避breeze: 凉风ripples: 微波荡漾perspective: 视角gloomy: 阴沉storm: 暴风雨tranquility: 宁静combination: 结合angle: 角度motivation: 动力twilight: 黄昏strolls: 漫步anticipation: 期待atmosphere: 氛围confidence: 自信encounter: 相遇temporary: 暂时journey: 旅程unique: 独特gentle: 轻抚

Jana Šustová nahlédla do života druhé generace Vietnamců v rámci vietnamských večerek. Oleksandra Simochko si povídala s Ilnarou Dudash, předsedkyní organizace Ukrajinská iniciativa Jižní Moravy a ředitelkou Ukrajinského centra v Brně. Lidija Stevanović natočila rozhovor s Vladimirem Tepavčevićem, který se před více než 30-ti lety kvůli válce v Jugoslávii přestěhoval do Česka. Moderuje: Tatiana Čabáková. Připravila: Tajana Mančalová.Všechny díly podcastu Mezi námi můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Vaikų knygos „Kartu su Finansiukais. Knyga vaikams apie finansus“ autorė ir Finansiukų akademijos kūrėja Žaneta Jakubauskaitė įsitikinusi – kuo anksčiau vaikai supras pinigų vertę, tuo lengviau jiems bus priimti atsakingus finansinius sprendimus ateityje. FM99 laidoje „Vaikų pasaulis mūsų pasaulyje“ viešėjusi autorė pasakojo, kad idėja sukurti knygą gimė dirbant su pradinukais. Ji pastebėjo, jog daugelis vaikų gauna kišenpinigių, tačiau nežino, kaip juos planuoti, taupyti ar protingai išleisti. Būtent todėl finansinio raštingumo temas ji nusprendė perteikti ne sausomis taisyklėmis, o vaikams suprantama istorija.

 „Dokázal bych si představit víkend nadávání s Jiřím Pelclem,“ přiznává režisér Jakub, který s webem ČT art.cz točí letní sérii Artoulky. Dostat se k osobnostem do jejich soukromí je ale často boj a mnohé z nich štáb přes práh vůbec nepustí. V novém díle podcastu Kavky přibližují Eva a Jakub, jak funguje jejich mikroredakce a jak se dělá kulturní publicistika pro online svět. Poodkryjí náročné přípravy podzimního ČT art kvízu, hledání lokalit pro poezii v projektu Jedna báseň i to, proč mezi kulturní témata neodmyslitelně patří i počítačové hry. Moderují Jana Peroutková a Kateřina Pantovič.

Živé muzeum Divokého západu najdete na okraji Plzně ve směru na Radčice. Rodinný podnik funguje od roku 2011. Pro jeho zakladatele Jiřího Kohouta představuje splněný sen, který spolu s ním žije celá rodina.

Vakar vakarą socialiniuose tinkluose paplito vaizdo įrašas, kuriame nufilmuotas šiurpą keliantis paauglės išpuolis Marijampolėje prieš panašaus amžiaus mergaitę. Ji sėdi nuleidusi galvą ant suoliuko, Poezijos parke, kita užsilipusi ant jo, iš pradžių daužė aukos galvą telefonu, spyrė koja, sudavė ranka. Prokuratūra dėl šio įvykio pradėjo ikiteisminį tyrimą.Kyjivo gyventojai šį rytą rinkosi į gausią protesto akciją išreikšti palaikymą atleistam gynybos ministrui Mychailai Fedorovui. Apie jo atleidimą vakar vakare paskelbė prezidentas Volodymyras Zelenskis, vyk-dantis vyriausybės pertvarką. Šiandien Aukščiausioje Radoje bus balsuojama dėl naujo premjero Serhyjaus Koreckio paskyrimo.Šiaulių rajono Ginkūnų kaimo gyventojai jau apie porą dešimtmečių sako kenčiantys intensyvų eismą per centrinę kaimo gatvę. Žmonės ne vienus metus prašo aplinkkelio. Tačiau statybos darbai vis atidedami. Via Lietuva atstovai sako, dabar prioritetai kiti, tad aplinkkelio teks laukti ne vienus metus.Ved. Darius Matas

Banky nabízejí pojištění pro cestu na dovolenou v rámci platební karty, kterou u nich máte sjednanou. Ale pozor, pokud máte jen základní kartu k základnímu účtu, může být toto pojištění podle odborníka Jiřího Hluchého hodně omezené.

Ve Valdštejnské lodžii v Sedličkách u Jičína, v galerii Herbarion, byla zpřístupněna výstava Matka Země. Až do října tu proniknete do kouzla linorytů, dřevorytů i hybohledů inspirovaných francouzskou krajinou. Autorem je Pavel Macek, samouk, který velkou část života prožil ve Francii. Setkání s výtvarníkem vám zprostředkuje redaktorka Vlaďka Wildová.

Banky nabízejí pojištění pro cestu na dovolenou v rámci platební karty, kterou u nich máte sjednanou. Ale pozor, pokud máte jen základní kartu k základnímu účtu, může být toto pojištění podle odborníka Jiřího Hluchého hodně omezené.Všechny díly podcastu Radioporadna můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

V pondelkových letných epizódach podcastu Dobré ráno predstavuje Tatiana Čabáková Slovenky a Slovákov, ktorí sa presadili a zanechávajú výraznú stopu v českej spoločnosti. Tentoraz je jej hostkou galeristka Olga Foglar, ktorá v Prahe založila prvú súkromnú galériu súčasného umenia s medzinárodným programom. Keď v roku 2009 zakladala DSC Gallery, nadväzovala na svoje päťročné skúsenosti s výstavným projektom Sculpture Grande, v rámci ktorého predstavovala monumentálne sochy v centre Prahy. Inšpirovali ju aj skúsenosti zo zahraničia, kde mala možnosť sledovať fungovanie popredných galérií v Európe aj v New Yorku. Galéria zastupuje významných českých autorov, akými sú Jiří Georg Dokoupil, David Černý, Lubomír Typlt, Václav Cigler, Krištof Kintera či Jakub Špaňhel, a pravidelne predstavuje aj medzinárodne uznávaných umelcov, medzi nimi Jonasa Burgerta, Martina Edera, Helen Beardovú a Justina Mortimera. V rozhovore sa dozviete: ako Olga Foglar začínala v Prahe s projektom Sculpture Grande a prečo sa rozhodla ho ukončiť, prečo od začiatku chcela vybudovať galériu, ktorá bude patriť medzi najprestížnejšie výstavné priestory v Prahe, akú úlohu zohráva kvalitný kurátor pri budovaní úspešnej galérie aj kariéry umelca, čo potrebuje mladý výtvarník, aby sa dokázal presadiť, prečo práve na vysokých umeleckých školách vznikajú nové smery a trendy v súčasnom umení, ako pomáha svojim klientom budovať umelecké zbierky a prečo môže byť umenie zaujímavou investíciou. – Všetky podcasty denníka SME nájdete na⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ sme.sk/podcasty⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ – Odoberajte aj audio verziu denného newslettra⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ SME.sk⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ s najdôležitejšími správami na⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠⁠ sme.sk/brifingSee omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

Další kapitola proroka Ezechiela řeší rozdíl mezi falešným a skutečným prorokem. Spolu s Jiřím Zdráhalem hledáme odpovědi v další části pořadu Bible Guide.Tento podcast můžete podpořit na https://radio7.cz

„Lidé vás odsuzují, aniž by věděli, čím si procházíte, “ říká Jiří, který dlouhá léta bojuje s obezitou. Jaké je čelit pohledům okolí, posměškům nebo odmítnutí při běžných situacích –  při cestování nebo třeba i u lékaře? Jiří v IKEM Podcastu otevřeně sdílí svůj osobní příběh o nemoci, která ovlivňuje nejen zdraví, ale i každodenní život. Pozvání do studia přijal také přednosta Centra diabetologie IKEM prof. MUDr. Martin Haluzík, DrSc.

Nevylévejte kávovou sedlinu. Může prospět hortenziím, rajčatům i růžím, navíc pomůže se zápachem. I to nám na další návštěvě poradí Jiřinka s Alenkou. A k tomu přidají recept na zdravé květákové kuličky bez smažení.

Fluent Fiction - Korean: Summer Collaborations: Capturing Culture in Hangang Park Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/ko/episode/2026-07-12-22-34-01-ko Story Transcript:Ko: 햇빛은 강하지만 바람이 부드럽게 불어오는 여의도 한강공원.En: The sun was strong, but a gentle breeze blew through Yeouido Hangang Park.Ko: 여기는 한국 여름의 정취를 만끽할 수 있는 축제가 한창이다.En: Here, a festival in full swing captured the essence of a Korean summer.Ko: 지혜로운 강사인 지현은 그늘 아래에서 시원한 아이스티를 마시며 한숨을 돌리고 있었다.En: Ji-hye, a wise instructor, was taking a breather under the shade while sipping on a cool iced tea.Ko: 오늘 그녀의 목표는 전통 한국 문화를 어떻게 재미있게 학생들에게 가르칠 수 있을까 하는 것이다.En: Her goal for the day was to figure out how to teach her students about traditional Korean culture in a fun way.Ko: 그러나, 사람들로 붐비는 이곳에서 영감을 찾기가 쉽지 않았다.En: However, finding inspiration in this crowded place was not easy.Ko: 한편, 자신감 넘치는 사진작가 민수는 카메라를 들고 공원을 누비고 있었다.En: Meanwhile, Min-su, a confident photographer, was roaming the park with his camera.Ko: 그는 사람들의 자연스러운 순간을 포착하기 위해 이곳에 왔다.En: He came here to capture spontaneous moments of people.Ko: 그의 목표는 한국 여름의 살아있는 모습을 담아내는 것이다.En: His objective was to portray the living essence of a Korean summer.Ko: 하지만 그는 사진에 집중하다 보니 축제의 진짜 매력을 놓칠까 걱정이 되었다.En: Yet, he worried that he might miss the real charm of the festival by focusing too much on taking pictures.Ko: 지현은 전통 놀이 시연이 열린다는 소식을 듣고 참여하기로 했다.En: Ji-hyun, upon hearing that there would be a demonstration of traditional games, decided to participate.Ko: 그녀는 전통 문화를 직접 경험함으로써 새로운 관점을 찾고 싶었다.En: She wanted to find a new perspective by experiencing traditional culture firsthand.Ko: 민수도 바쁘게 움직이는 것을 멈추고 사람들에게 축제를 어떻게 즐기고 있는지 이야기를 나누기 시작했다.En: Min-su also paused his busy movements and started talking to people about how they were enjoying the festival.Ko: 이렇게 그들은 서로 다른 방식으로 자신들의 목표를 향해 한 걸음 더 나아가고 있었다.En: In this way, they each moved a step closer to their respective goals, albeit in different ways.Ko: 축제의 흥겨운 분위기 속에서 두 사람은 우연히 공원의 조용한 한 구석에서 마주쳤다.En: In the cheerful atmosphere of the festival, the two met by chance in a quiet corner of the park.Ko: 민수는 지현의 고요한 모습을 보고 흥미가 생겼다.En: Min-su found himself intrigued by Ji-hyun's serene presence.Ko: 그는 지현에게 그녀의 사진을 찍어도 되겠느냐고 물었다.En: He asked if he could take her picture.Ko: 지현은 미소 지으며 허락했다.En: She smiled and consented.Ko: 카메라 셔터 소리가 들리자, 그들은 자연스럽게 대화를 시작했다.En: As the sound of the camera shutter clicked, they naturally started a conversation.Ko: 대화는 점점 깊어졌고, 지현은 자신의 곧 있을 강의에 민수의 사진과 이야기를 포함시키고 싶다고 제안했다.En: Their conversation deepened, and Ji-hyun proposed including Min-su's photos and stories in her upcoming lecture.Ko: 민수도 자신의 작품이 새로운 방식으로 활용되는 것에 대한 기대감에 마음이 설렜다.En: Min-su felt excited about the prospect of his work being used in new ways.Ko: 그들은 각자의 호기심과 열정이 맞닿는 지점에서 새로운 협력을 시작하게 되었다.En: At the crossroads of their curiosity and passion, they began a new collaboration.Ko: 지현은 다른 관점과 협업의 중요성을 깨달았다.En: Ji-hyun realized the importance of different perspectives and collaboration.Ko: 그녀의 강의는 이제 더 풍부하고 다채로워질 것이다.En: Her lectures would now be richer and more vibrant.Ko: 민수는 사진 한 장 한 장에 담긴 이야기를 더 깊이 이해하게 되었고, 그의 예술적 방향에 새로운 영감이 더해졌다.En: Min-su gained a deeper understanding of the stories behind each photograph, adding new inspiration to his artistic direction.Ko: 여름의 여유로운 한강공원에서의 만남은 그렇게 그들 둘에게 특별한 변화를 선사했다.En: Their encounter at the leisurely Hangang Park in summer brought remarkable change to both of them. Vocabulary Words:essence: 정취breather: 한숨spontaneous: 자연스러운portray: 담아내다charm: 매력demonstration: 시연firsthand: 직접respective: 각자albeit: 하지만serene: 고요한consented: 허락했다proposed: 제안했다prospect: 기대감passion: 열정collaboration: 협력vibrant: 다채로운inspiration: 영감capture: 포착하다objective: 목표perspective: 관점remarkable: 특별한leisurely: 여유로운intrigued: 흥미가 생겼다crossroads: 지점realized: 깨달았다understanding: 이해artistic: 예술적curiosity: 호기심breeze: 바람figure out: 알아내다

Nejdůležitější Boží poselství pro lidstvo se týká znovuzrození. Jak si zařídit posmrtný život? Bohoslužba otevírá dialog židovského učitele Nikodéma a Ježíše Krista. Káže Jiří Šrom, pastor Církve bez hranic v Plzni. Tento podcast můžete podpořit na https://radio7.cz

Fluent Fiction - Korean: Cultivating Friendship: A Summer Tale of Rivalry and Growth Find the full episode transcript, vocabulary words, and more:fluentfiction.com/ko/episode/2026-07-10-22-34-02-ko Story Transcript:Ko: 여름이 무르익은 아침, 경기도의 '아침고요수목원'은 햇빛 속에서 반짝이고 있었다.En: On a summer morning, Achimgoyo Arboretum in Gyeonggi-do shimmered in the sunlight.Ko: 이곳에서 여름방학 특별 프로그램이 시작되었다.En: Here, the special summer vacation program had begun.Ko: 지우는 수목원 중앙의 연못가에 앉아 아름다운 장미와 나무들을 바라보며 생각에 잠겼다.En: Ji-woo sat by the pond in the center of the arboretum, gazing at the beautiful roses and trees, lost in thought.Ko: 그의 목표는 자신만의 멋진 프로젝트를 만들어 장학금을 받는 것이었다.En: His goal was to create his own remarkable project and earn a scholarship.Ko: 지우는 식물 연구에 큰 흥미가 있었다.En: Ji-woo had a great interest in plant research.Ko: 하지만 항상 민석과의 경쟁이 있었다.En: However, there was always competition with Min-seok.Ko: 민석은 자연과학 분야에서 탁월한 실력을 보이는 친구였다.En: Min-seok was a friend who excelled in the field of natural sciences.Ko: 그와 비교하며 지우는 때때로 자신감을 잃곤 했다.En: Compared to him, Ji-woo often lost confidence.Ko: 하나는 둘의 친한 친구였다.En: Hana was a close friend of both.Ko: "지우야, 뭘 이렇게 고민해?" 그녀가 다가와 물었다.En: "Ji-woo, what's troubling you so much?" she asked as she approached.Ko: "민석은 이미 프로젝트에서 앞서고 있을 거야. 난 어떻게 해야 할지 모르겠어." 지우는 숨을 내쉬며 말했다.En: "Min-seok must already be ahead with his project. I don't know what to do," Ji-woo said with a sigh.Ko: "그냥 포기하지 말고, 민석에게 도움을 받는 건 어때?" 하나는 조언했다.En: "How about not giving up and asking Min-seok for help?" Hana suggested.Ko: 하지만 지우는 자존심이 강했고, 직접 해결해보고 싶었다.En: However, Ji-woo had strong pride and wanted to solve it on his own.Ko: 그러던 중, 민석이 다가왔다.En: Just then, Min-seok approached.Ko: "지우, 괜찮다면 우리 좀 얘기할 수 있을까?"En: "Ji-woo, if you're okay with it, can we talk for a moment?"Ko: 수목원 곳곳을 걸으며 둘은 식물에 관한 의견을 나눴다.En: As they walked around the arboretum, the two shared their opinions about plants.Ko: 대화는 점차 심각해졌다.En: The conversation gradually became more serious.Ko: 결국 지우는 마음을 열었다.En: Eventually, Ji-woo opened up.Ko: "나 사실 많이 불안해. 너보다 나은 프로젝트를 만들 자신이 확실하지 않아."En: "Honestly, I'm very anxious. I'm not sure I can create a better project than you."Ko: 민석은 잠시 생각하더니 웃으며 말했다.En: Min-seok thought for a moment and then smiled.Ko: "우리 경쟁 한번 해보자. 하지만 서로 도와주는 좋은 경쟁이야."En: "Let's have a competition. But it's a good competition where we help each other."Ko: 그 후, 지우와 민석은 서로의 프로젝트를 도왔다.En: After that, Ji-woo and Min-seok helped each other with their projects.Ko: 서로 다른 관점에서 아이디어들이 더해지면서 멋진 프로젝트가 완성되었다.En: Ideas from different perspectives merged, resulting in a wonderful project.Ko: 시간이 지나 프레젠테이션 날이 되었다.En: Time passed, and the presentation day arrived.Ko: 수목원을 배경으로 두 사람은 자신만의 프로젝트를 발표하며 모두의 찬사를 받았다.En: Against the backdrop of the arboretum, the two presented their individual projects and received everyone's praise.Ko: 민석이 프로젝트 상을 받았지만, 지우는 실망하지 않았다.En: Although Min-seok received the project award, Ji-woo was not disappointed.Ko: 한 지역 식물학자가 다가와 말했기 때문이다. "너의 열정이 대단해. 우리와 함께 일하지 않겠니?"En: This was because a local botanist approached and said, "Your passion is amazing. Would you like to work with us?"Ko: 지우는 그날 새로운 자신감을 얻었다.En: Ji-woo gained new confidence that day.Ko: 경쟁과 협력이 얼마나 중요한지 깨달았고, 자신만의 길을 찾아가는 것의 소중함을 알았다.En: He realized the importance of competition and cooperation, and the value of finding his own path.Ko: 이로써 지우와 민석의 관계는 경쟁을 넘어선 우정으로 발전했다.En: As a result, the relationship between Ji-woo and Min-seok evolved into a friendship beyond competition.Ko: 수목원의 따뜻한 햇살 아래, 지우는 미소를 지으며 앞으로 나아갈 더 넓은 세상을 그려보았다.En: Under the warm sunlight of the arboretum, Ji-woo smiled as he envisioned a broader world to move forward into. Vocabulary Words:arboretum: 수목원shimmered: 반짝이고remarkable: 멋진scholarship: 장학금competition: 경쟁excelled: 탁월한 실력을 보이는confidence: 자신감troubling: 고민해sigh: 숨을 내쉬며pride: 자존심solve: 해결해보고anxious: 불안해perspectives: 관점merged: 더해지면서presentation: 프레젠테이션backdrop: 배경praise: 찬사botanist: 식물학자passion: 열정evolved: 발전했다envisioned: 그려보았다broader: 더 넓은confide: 마음을 열었다gradually: 점차resulting: 완성되었다cooperation: 협력important: 중요한local: 지역special: 특별approached: 다가와

Kaip visuomenei jautriomis temomis kalbėti pasitelkiant profesionalų meną? Pokalbis su Lina Šlipavičiūte, menų laboratorijos „Kiaurai sienas“ įkūrėja, restauratore ir urbanistinio meno projektų autore. Ji žinoma dėl tokių iniciatyvų kaip „Sienos prisimena“ ar „Nematomi paukščiai“.Lietuvos pedagogai mokosi „įdarbinti“ dirbtinį intelektą – jis tikrina namų darbus, atsako į el. laiškus ir kuria virtualius asistentus moksleiviams.Minint Alergijos dieną, pasikalbėsime apie tai, ką svarbu žinoti, kad kelionės nesugadintų nemalonios kūno reakcijos į dažnai nežinomus alergenus.Nuo Kyjivo iki Kosta Rikos: Vilniuje prasideda Tarptautinis universitetų teatrų festivalis. Ji vyks kartu su pirmą kartą Baltijos šalyse organizuojamu XIII pasauliniu Tarptautinės universitetų teatrų asociacijos kongresu. Festivalio programoje – 16 nemokamų renginių.Kauno fotografijos galerijoje atidaryta iraniečių kilmės menininko Aria Šarokšaji paroda „Drėgna žemė“. Joje fotografas vietoje įprastų karo Ukrainoje vaizdų pristato kasdienes, kartais absurdiškas ar netikėtas situacijas. Sekdamas jaunimo ir subkultūrų gyvenimą, autorius atskleidžia, kaip šiuolaikinėje Ukrainoje kuriami gyvenimai, nepaisant nuolatinės grėsmės.Ved. Darius Matas.

Zeitgeist #28 s Jiřím Pehem a Dominikou Perlínovou o oslavách výročí americké nezávislosti a proměnách demokracie v USA.Všichni lidé jsou stvořeni sobě rovni. Známá teze z Deklarace nezávislosti Spojených států z roku 1776 nabývala v průběhu americké historie různé významy a výklady se zásadními dopady na životy mnoha lidí. Dějiny USA lze vyprávět mimo jiné jako příběh emancipace a zrovnoprávnění dlouho diskriminovaných skupin lidí včetně žen, otroků nebo původních obyvatel. Přitom však generace reformátorů mohly odkazovat na stejné osvícenské ideje a ústavní pořádky, které sestavili zakladatelé USA, když vymaňovali kolonie z britské nadvlády. Čím se vyznačovaly oslavy Dne nezávislosti v režii prezidenta Donalda Trumpa? Jak se mu podařilo posunout své pravomoci ve vztahu k Nejvyššímu soudu USA. I na to mimo jiné odpovídá novinářka Dominika Perlínová v Zeitgeistu Týdeníku Respekt.Jiří Pehe se v navazující druhé části podcastu zamýšlí nad tím, co mohou Američané slavit po 250 letech, proměnou americké demokracie, krizích které překonala i té současné, kdy se potýká se sílící polarizací, nerovností, zablokovaným politickým systémem a rostoucí mocí oligarchů. „Trump s podivuhodnou lehkostí vytvořil poloautoritářský režim s prvky fašismu. Je otázka, jestli jde o přechodnou věc, která zmizí po příštích volbách,“ říká v podcastu Zeitgeist politolog, spisovatel a publicista JIří Pehe, který řadu let prožil ve Spojených státech v rozhovoru se Štěpánem Sedláčkem.Doporučujeme také související články:Vznik Spojených států v roce 1776 a věčná otázka: Kdo smí být Američanem?Jak Trump přepisuje americkou historii

Nakolik dnes vstupují sociální sítě do obsazování herců? Podepsal se jejich vliv na podobě castingů? A dá se předpovědět, jak AI promění filmový průmysl? Poslechněte si debatu s agentkou Kateřinou Oujezdskou, hercem a režisérem Jiřím Mádlem a herečkami Gabrielou Heclovou a Denisou Pfauserovou.Všechny díly podcastu Host Radiožurnálu můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Nakolik dnes vstupují sociální sítě do obsazování herců? Podepsal se jejich vliv na podobě castingů? A dá se předpovědět, jak AI promění filmový průmysl? Poslechněte si debatu s agentkou Kateřinou Oujezdskou, hercem a režisérem Jiřím Mádlem a herečkami Gabrielou Heclovou a Denisou Pfauserovou.Všechny díly podcastu Host Radiožurnálu můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Slovenská herečka Zuzana Kronerová na karlovarském festivalu představuje nový film Houpačky, inspirovaný stejnojmennou knihou Lucie Konečné. Příběh vypráví o přátelství dvou žen, Zdeny a Jiřiny. „Moje postava Jiřina působí přísně, udiveně se dívá na Zdenu, která je svobodomyslná. A pak Zdena nakazí Jiřinu revoltou a prožijí spolu krásný čas,“ vypráví herečka.Všechny díly podcastu Host Radiožurnálu můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Bývalá civilní zaměstnankyně Univerzity obrany obvinila z opakovaného znásilnění vysoce postaveného důstojníka. Případ vyšetřovala Vojenská policie. Nevyslechla hlavní svědkyni a i přes množství důkazů jej odložila. Dvakrát. Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

Slovenská herečka Zuzana Kronerová na karlovarském festivalu představuje nový film Houpačky, inspirovaný stejnojmennou knihou Lucie Konečné. Příběh vypráví o přátelství dvou žen, Zdeny a Jiřiny. „Moje postava Jiřina působí přísně, udiveně se dívá na Zdenu, která je svobodomyslná. A pak Zdena nakazí Jiřinu revoltou a prožijí spolu krásný čas,“ vypráví herečka.Všechny díly podcastu Host Radiožurnálu můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Jižní Morava a část Olomouckého kraje hlásí kritický nedostatek vody. Jak zadržet vodu v přírodě? Je raketový nárůst preferencí německé AfD rizikem pro Německo? Stává se pohřeb íránského duchovního vůdce Chameneího centrem protiamerických a protiizraských nálad? Všechny díly podcastu Hlavní zprávy - rozhovory a komentáře můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

CELÝ DÍL NAJDETE NA https://herohero.co/studion A V RÁMCI KLUBOVÉHO PŘEDPLATNÉHO DENÍKU N https://denikn.cz/podcast-studio-n/ Dvě stě padesát let po vyhlášení nezávislosti se Amerika ocitla v období hluboké politické a společenské nejistoty. Mezinárodní indexy ji postupně zařazují mimo skupinu liberálních demokracií. Spojené státy, které dlouhodobě fungovaly jako symbol západní demokracie, dnes čelí otázce, co vlastně jejich demokratický model ještě drží pohromadě. Ve společné epizodě podcastů Studio N a Amerika, bejby mluví Filip Titlbach s Barborou Chaloupkovou a Jiřím Sobotou, kteří se vrátili z třítýdenní cesty po Texasu. Podle Barbory Chaloupkové Američané jen těžko hledají společný rámec pro to, co se s jejich zemí děje. „Američané neumějí přemýšlet o propadech, neumějí jim nastavit proporci,“ říká. Jiří Sobota upozorňuje, že zároveň dochází k postupnému ústupu USA z role globálního garanta demokracie. „Amerika opouští roli, kterou hrála vůči světu,“ zaznívá v rozhovoru. Co je dnes americký sen? Je Donald Trump neporazitelný lídr? A co by na současný stav Spojených států řekli otcové zakladatelé? Podívejte se na celou epizodu, kterou jsme natáčeli v Knihovně Václava Havla. Celé díly Studia N najdete na platformě Herohero, na webu Deníku N jsou přístupné předplatitelům a předplatitelkám Klubu N. Bezplatné části zveřejňujeme v podcastových aplikacích Spotify, Apple Podcasts, Podbean či na YouTube. Sledovat nás můžete také na Instagramu.

Nový film mám hotový, odehrává se ve věznici. Američani byli v šoku, že točím záběrově.Hostem Barbory Kroužkové v  podcastu Tekutá společnost byl producent a režisér Václav Marhoul. Již tři týdny je hotový jeho nový film, který točil v americké produkci, ale stále se neví, kdy bude mít premiéru. Je možné, že do kin vůbec nepůjde? V rozvovoru prozradil, že se příběh odehrává ve věznici a není tam jediný exteriérový záběr. Ve snímku hrají napříkal Rob Lowe a Jennifer Jason Leighová, za kamerou byl Peter Menzies Jr. Víc detalů se dál nesmí zveřejnit. Jak si Marhoul získal důvěru a respekt amerického štábu a herců? Co si myslí o americké a především české politické scéně a co ho v rozbouřené době uklidňuje?Pořad Tekutá společnost můžete sledovat každý čtvrtek na: • Respektu: https://www.respekt.cz/tekuta-spolecnost a v mobilní aplikaci Respekt• Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/4ozoQdrXPXo7WYKIIh9rMD • Apple Podcastech: https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/tekuta-spolecnost/id1888505574• YouTube: ⁠ https://www.youtube.com/respekt⁠

Gido profesiją daugelis renkasi kaip papildomą veiklą ar pomėgį, tačiau yra žmonių, kurie jai atsiduoda visa širdimi. Viena jų – gidė ir edukatorė Rūta Norkūnė. Ji ne tik veda ekskursijas, bet ir kuria edukacijas, rašo pažintines knygas bei ieško naujų būdų, kaip istoriją ir kultūrą priartinti prie žmonių.Naujausia Europos kardiologų statistika rodo, kad Lietuva išsiskiria didele širdies ir kraujagyslių ligų našta, trumpesne gyvenimo trukme ir didesniu sveikatai nepalankių veiksnių poveikiu. Kita vertus, šalis pasižymi gerais diagnostikos, intervencinio gydymo ir druskos vartojimo mažinimo rezultatais.Rytoj prasideda Moksleivių dainų šventė, pirmadienį minėsime Mindaugo karūnavimo dieną, o visai neseniai šventėme Jonines. Šios progos primena ir etnosimboliką – tautinius kostiumus, skirtingų Lietuvos regionų raštus, gintaro dirbinius bei kitus tautinės tapatybės ženklus. Kiek jie matomi mūsų kasdienybėje ir kuo šiuo požiūriu panašūs ar skiriamės nuo latvių?Šiais metais minime 100-ąsias žymaus katalonų architekto Antonio Gaudi mirties metines. Kolegė Justė Luščinskytė kviečia pasinerti į penkių dalių ciklą, per kurį atsiskleidžia ne tik paties kūrėjo gyvenimo kelias, bet ir Katalonijos kultūrinis bei istorinis peizažas, architektūriniai skirtumai, masinio turizmo iššūkiai bei beatifikacijos procesas. Pirmajame epizode dėmesys buvo skirtas Gaudi asmenybei – pasakojimą galite rasti LRT Radiotekoje. Antrame epizode dėmesio centre atsiduria Gaudi ir Katalonijos istorijos kryžkelė: žvelgsime į pramoninį regiono pakilimą, politinius sukrėtimus bei prabundantį tautinį judėjimą, kurie negrįžtamai suformavo revoliucinę architekto viziją.„Briedžio sapnas“ – taip vadinasi poilsiavietė Vilniaus rajone. Jos įkūrėjai Rasa ir Mantas Jakavoniai čia sukūrė tai, ko patiems trūko – galimybę greitai pabėgti iš miesto, patogiai iškylauti, negaišti laiko kelyje ir patirti, ką reiškia tikras kaimas.10–12. Ved. Ignas Andriukevičius

Lebron James has informed the LA Lakers he will not be returning to the team in the 2027 season. Where will he end up? We think the King needs to come to Kingdom. Realistically the big off season move for the Magic is bringing back JI. Mid show Kawhi Leonard was traded back to the Raptors! We get to see how the stock market is looking with Bianchi's Stocks, And we hear from the movers and shakers around the sports world with Mic'd Up! Max Chadwick from PFF.com joins Game On!

Kauza Viktorka. Ani ne tříletou holčičku zabil drogově závislý otec jen pár měsíců poté, co mu ji soud svěřil do péče. Ministr spravedlnosti teď kvůli tomu podává kárnou žalobu. Proberu to s Jiřím Kubíkem, autorem investigativního pořadu Ve stínu na serveru SeznamZprávy.cz. Ptá se Matěj Skalický. *** UPOZORŇUJEME, že v následující epizodě zazní citlivé informace týkající se případu vraždy malého dítěte. ***Všechny díly podcastu Vinohradská 12 můžete pohodlně poslouchat v mobilní aplikaci mujRozhlas pro Android a iOS nebo na webu mujRozhlas.cz.

Berî çend rojan DEM Partî bi navê 'Mîtînga Azadîyê' xwepêşandaneke cemawerî li darxist. Çareseriya demokratik a pirsgirêka Kurd û azadîya rêberê PKK peyamên sereke bûn. Ji aliyekî din ve partiyên Kurdistanî li Wanê kom bûn û nerazîbûna xwe ji siyaseta dewleta Tirkîyê, û ji sîyaseta entegrasyona demokratîk diyar kirin.

Investigativní pořad Ve stínu se vrací ke kauze Bertík. Policie dál hledá odpověď na původní podezření o možném zneužívání, zatímco soudy přijaly další rozhodnutí s přímým dopadem na život pětiletého dítěte. Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

Vaikystėje matyti animaciniai filmai dažnam atrodo tiesiog pramoga. Tačiau ar kada susimąstėte, kad net vertimas gali pakeisti tai, kokius herojus mato vaikai? Ar lietuviškas dubliažas visada tiksliai perteikia originalią istoriją, o gal kartais veikėjus paverčia visai kitokiais, nei juos sukūrė autoriai?Ko gero, ne visi dar žino, kad Vilniuje minint intelektualo, publicisto Jurgio Giedraičio 120-ąsias gimimo metines yra atsiradusi nauja gatvelė – Jurgio Vladislovo Giedraičio takas. Jurgis Giedraitis – vienas jtakingiausių XX a. Vidurio ir Rytų Europos politinių mąstytojų, Literatūros instituto leidybos centro Paryžiuje jkūrėjas, legendinio žurnalo Kultūra redaktorius, Lietuvos garbės pilietis. Šioje gatvėje šiandien pristatoma ir lauko paroda, kurią šįvakar pristatys sumanytojai ir kuratoriai, istorikai Alfredas Bumblauskas, Barbara Stankiewicz ir Simonas Teškevičius.Įsibėgėjant vasarai ir vaikų atostogoms, daugelis gyventojų gyvena kelionių po Europą ir lagaminų pakavimo nuotaikomis. Valstybinė ligonių kasa primena, kad išvykstant iš Lietuvos kartu su pasu ar asmens tapatybės kortele būtina pasiimti dar vieną svarbų dokumentą – Europos sveikatos draudimo kortelę. Ji gali padėti išvengti neplanuotų išlaidų netikėtai susirgus ar patyrus traumą Europos šalyse.

With Colin Farrell, Laura Donnelly, Jin Ha, Raymond Lee, Sasha Calle, Tony Dalton, Shea Whigham, Gary Tieche & Sam Catlin In this Sugar red‑carpet edition of Byte, Thanks to Apple TV Plus, Tony takes listeners inside the Los Angeles premiere of Apple TV+'s genre‑bending detective series. With interviews from the cast and creative team, this episode explores how Sugar reinvents the private‑investigator story — blending noir, emotional vulnerability, and a quietly radical take on what it means to search for the truth. Colin Farrell breaks down why John Sugar stands apart from every other screen detective. Executive Producer Gary Tieche discusses the creative spark behind the series. Laura Donnelly talks about playing Charlotte, a woman whose past and present collide in ways that pull Sugar deeper into the case. Jin Ha discusses Danny, a character whose choices and secrets drive the season's emotional core. Raymond Lee brings nuance and quiet intensity to Ji, a character whose presence complicates Sugar's investigation. Showrunner Sam Catlin breaks down the architecture of the season. Former Supergirl star Sasha Calle plays Val, a character whose presence adds tension, danger, and unexpected warmth. Tony Dalton brings charisma and edge to Ray Vega, a figure whose charm masks deeper complications. Shea Whigham discusses Tom Flyberg, a character whose presence adds grit and unpredictability to the story. Across the carpet, the cast and creators highlight the themes that define Sugar: The weight of empathy The danger of truth The loneliness of those who help others but rarely help themselves The idea that every mystery is also a mirror Get The Podcast And Video Combo Only On Plus And Save

Rodiče se bojí posílat děti do školy, učitelé zvažují odchod a vedení tvrdí, že vyčerpalo všechny možnosti a nemá další páky, aby zaručilo bezpečí. Agresivní žák, který napadl asistentku pedagoga, se může kdykoliv vrátit do třídy. Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

Ministr spravedlnosti Jeroným Tejc míří k podání kárné žaloby za rozhodnutí soudu svěřit malou Viktorku nebezpečnému otci. Ten dítě krátce poté zavraždil. Tragédie podle Tejce odhalila mnohem širší problémy systému ochrany dětí. Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

„Som najväčšia nádej slovenského MMA a budem svetovou jednotkou,” vraví 24-ročný neporazený šampión RFA Martin Kozák. Medzi profesionálmi i amatérmi má skóre zhodne 6-0 a 8. septembra v Dana White's Contender Series zabojuje o zmluvu s UFC. Môže sa stať štvrtým a najmladším Slovákom v najprestížnejšej organizácii. V podcaste Staredown na ŠPORT.sk vyjadril ambíciu získať do štyroch rokov titul UFC!Čo sa dozviete v rozhovore?Prečo nikdy nezápasil v Oktagone?Čo ho živí popri zápasení?Kde sa vidí o dva roky?V čom chce prekonať úspechy Jiřího Procházku?Odkiaľ pramení jeho presvedčenie, že bude svetovou jednotkou?Aké reakcie dostáva na svoje sebavedomé vyhlásenia?Čím naštval Čepa a Piráta?Prečo si myslí, že by Piráta dominantne porazil?Aké mal detstvo a začiatky s MMA?Je prípadná prvá prehra jeho strašiakom?

Di vê bûletenê de: Ji sazûman hat xwestin ku zêdebûna bihayê enerjiyê lêkolîn bike... Rêjeya enflasyonê ya Australya kêm dibe... Û di Kûpa Cîhanê de... Mat Leckie dê pêşbirka Socceroos bi Paraguay re ji dest bide. Ew nûçeyana û nûçeyên din di bûlentenê de hene.

Ji ber belavbûna çend tomaran dengî ku tê de îdîaya destdirêjiya li ser xwendekarên keç ên Zanîngeha Silêmaniyê li dijî mamosteyekî kolêja ayînî tê kirin, komîsyoneke lêkolînê hatiye damezrandin. Li aliyekî din nakokiyên di navber Partî û Yekîtiyê de ji bo avakirina kabîneya dehem ya parlemana Herêma Kurdistanê berdewamin. Zêdetir di hevpeyvîna bi peyamnêr Ehmed Xefûr ji Hewlêrê heye.

Last time we spoke about the battle of Shanggao. From late March to early April 1940, Japanese forces attacked Shanggao in Jiangxi with a multi‑pronged offensive. Chinese commanders used elastic defense and coordinated counter-moves, trading space for time through layered positions until the Japanese advanced into prepared strongpoints. As the 34th Division moved toward the town, assaults repeatedly hit ridges and bridge lines held by the 74th Corps. Heavy air strikes caused chaos, but timely flank redeployments prevented a decisive breakthrough. During the crisis around March 21–24, Chinese units maneuvered an encirclement and executed a controlled breakout at the critical moment. After intense fighting and bombing, the Japanese were routed and fell back to their original positions. The wider war did not change, yet Shanggao proved that disciplined Chinese planning could reverse Japanese offensives against superior initiative and numbers.   #207 Battle of Zhongtiao Mountain Welcome to the Fall and Rise of China Podcast, I am your dutiful host Craig Watson. But, before we start I want to also remind you this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Perhaps you want to learn more about the history of Asia? Kings and Generals have an assortment of episodes on history of asia and much more  so go give them a look over on Youtube. So please subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry for some more history related content, over on my channel, the Pacific War Channel where I cover the history of China and Japan from the 19th century until the end of the Pacific War. By the spring of 1941, the War of Resistance against Japan had been grinding for nearly four years, and the map of China looked increasingly like a wound. Japan controlled the coastal cities, the major river valleys, and most of the productive lowland plains of the north and east. The Nationalist government had retreated far inland to Chongqing, governing a rump state of mountainous hinterland, foreign sympathies, and diminishing resources. The war had long since ceased to look like a conventional conflict between organized fronts and had settled into something grimmer and more ambiguous — a slow war of attrition fought in the mud and rocks of the Chinese interior, punctuated by Japanese offensives designed not to end the war but to compress it, to squeeze the Nationalists tighter with each season until surrender became a rational calculation rather than a humiliation. Japan had tried other methods first. In the late 1930s, Tokyo made serious overtures to Chiang Kai-shek's government, proposing a negotiated settlement that would see China aligned with Japan and the puppet Wang Jingwei government elevated as the vehicle for that arrangement. Chiang refused. He had gambled, and would continue to gamble, that the war in Europe would eventually draw in the Western powers, that American patience with Japanese aggression would run out, and that time was ultimately on China's side. The strategy required suffering in the present to buy survival in the future. Germany's invasion of Poland in September 1939 and the subsequent expansion of war across Europe only reinforced Japan's desire to accelerate its operations in China before the international situation made them impossible. By 1940, Japan signaled it intended to resolve the "China Incident" — the bureaucratic euphemism it used to avoid officially acknowledging that it was fighting a full-scale war — once and for all. The question was where. The front was hundreds of miles long. The Japanese army in China was stretched thin despite its nominal strength. Spectacular victories in the lowlands had failed to produce the political capitulation Tokyo expected. And in the mountains of Shanxi Province, a particular irritant had been festering for three years — one that the Japanese could neither ignore nor seem to dislodge. The Zhongtiao Mountains rise along the southern edge of Shanxi Province, running roughly east to west for some two hundred miles, forming a natural wall between the loess plateaus of Shanxi and the plains of northern Henan below. The range is not dramatic by Chinese standards — it is not the soaring, cloud-piercing landscape of Sichuan or Yunnan — but it is rugged, deeply ridged, and extraordinarily difficult to move through quickly. For a defending army with knowledge of the terrain, the Zhongtiao range was close to ideal. For an attacker, especially one dependent on mechanized firepower and coordinated logistics, it was a nightmare. Chinese forces had occupied the Zhongtiao Mountains since 1938, following the fall of Taiyuan and the retreat of Nationalist forces from the broader Shanxi campaign. At a moment when much of northern China was collapsing around them, the garrison there dug in and refused to move. Over the following three years, the Japanese Army mounted thirteen separate offensives against the Zhongtiao position. All thirteen failed. The mountains held. Chinese soldiers would later call it the "Eastern Maginot Line," a nickname that was simultaneously a boast and, in retrospect, a warning — the original Maginot Line, after all, had also been considered impregnable until the enemy simply went around it. But the strategic importance of Zhongtiao went beyond prestige. The mountains commanded the northern approach to the Yellow River crossings — the great geographic boundary that separated Japanese-controlled northern China from the Nationalist-held central and western regions. From their positions in the mountains, Chinese troops could threaten Japanese supply lines, protect their own river logistics, and maintain at least a symbolic presence north of the Yellow River. As long as the Zhongtiao garrison held, Japan could not claim complete control of northern China. It was also a potential launching point for a Chinese counteroffensive, should one ever become possible. The Japanese understood this perfectly. By 1940, eliminating the Zhongtiao position had become not merely desirable but strategically necessary. The First War Zone command responsible for the Zhongtiao garrison was, at least on paper, an imposing force. Between 170,000 and 180,000 men were deployed across the mountain range and its approaches, drawn from multiple armies and organized into several large groupings. The 5th Army Group under Zeng Wanzhong held the central area. The 14th Army Group under Liu Maoen operated in the eastern sector. The 4th Army Group, known as the "Iron Pillar of Zhongtiao" for its tenacious defense of the position over three years, was stationed as the backbone of the force. Individual armies were spread across specific nodes: Pei Changhui's 9th Army at Jiyuan in northern Henan; Zhao Shiling's 43rd Army at Yuanqu at the southernmost tip of Shanxi; Tang Huaiyuan's 3rd Army and Kong Lingxun's 80th Army in the Wenxi and Xiaxian areas; Wu Shimin's 98th Army at Dongfeng Town; Wu Tinglin's 15th Army near Gaoping. The man responsible for holding all of this together was Wei Lihuang, a gifted commander and one of Chiang Kai-shek's most capable generals. Wei had organized the Zhongtiao defense from the beginning, and his strategic instincts were widely respected. He was, by most accounts, the indispensable figure in the garrison's survival. The problem was that Wei had made powerful enemies. His refusal to participate in anti-Communist friction operations — at a time when the Nationalist government was increasingly focused on neutralizing the Communists even at the cost of Japanese resistance — had alienated him from a circle of powerful rivals, including the influential Hu Zongnan. Outmaneuvered at court, Wei was summoned to Chongqing in early 1941 and, under the pretext of strategic consultations, was effectively detained at Mount Emei. He never returned to his command in the Zhongtiao Mountains. The army he had built was left without its architect. The garrison that remained was compromised far beyond its missing commander, however. Three years of static defense had created conditions that corroded military discipline in predictable and insidious ways. Supply lines were unreliable, rations were short, and the soldiers garrisoning remote mountain positions had turned, by necessity and then by habit, to the local economy to sustain themselves. A bustling illicit trade in grain and opium had sprung up across the mountain zone, with Chinese troops selling what they could and buying what they needed from merchants who operated equally comfortably on both sides of the Japanese-Chinese frontier. This was not merely a logistical failure. It meant that Japanese intelligence had abundant commercial cover to infiltrate the garrison area, that security was a fiction, and that the defensive posture of the entire force had quietly shifted from warlike readiness to something closer to bureaucratic occupation. The Japanese had not missed any of this. For months before the offensive, Japanese intelligence agents had worked their way into the garrison's supply networks, trading relationships, and eventually its command structure itself. Japanese special forces had identified key headquarters positions. Informants had mapped the positions of individual units, traced the routes between them, and assessed the readiness of the men holding them. By the spring of 1941, Japanese planners believed, with considerable justification, that they could paralyze the entire Chinese command system within an hour of opening fire. This was not boasting. It was reconnaissance. Back in Chongqing, the intelligence picture was worse than unclear — it was actively distorted. The Nationalist intelligence apparatus issued warnings about Japanese troop movements near the Zhongtiao perimeter in April 1941, but the warnings were partial, their significance disputed, and the political will to act on them absent. A series of conferences were convened at Luoyang, the regional headquarters. Fortification orders were issued. Additional supplies were promised. Almost none of the follow-through actually materialized. The garrison's most powerful formation, the 4th Army Group, had already been transferred away from the area. Its absence left a hole in the defensive line that no amount of paper orders could fill. On the Japanese side, the operation that would eliminate the Zhongtiao garrison was carefully and systematically prepared. It was codenamed the "Central Plains Campaign" — a name that reflected its true ambition, which was not merely to take a mountain range but to reshape the strategic geography of the entire region. The operation was assigned to the North China Area Army under Lieutenant General Tada Shun, an experienced commander who had studied the Zhongtiao problem for years and had a clear understanding of why previous offensives had failed. The core of the attacking force was seven divisions: the 33rd, 35th, 36th, 37th, 41st, and 21st Divisions, along with several independent mixed brigades, puppet Chinese formations, cavalry, and a substantial artillery and air component. The 3rd Air Group, operating from airfields at Yuncheng and Xinxiang, would provide tactical air support throughout the operation. In total, the frontline assault force numbered approximately 100,000 men. This was not a repeat of the previous thirteen offensives, in which the Japanese had probed and pressed at the mountains frontally. This was a comprehensive annihilation plan. Tada's design exploited the geographic shape of the Zhongtiao position itself. The Chinese garrison occupied a roughly crescent-shaped area, with its back to the Yellow River and its front facing north and east into Japanese-held territory. The obvious previous approach — attacking from the north — had failed repeatedly because the terrain favored the defenders. Tada's solution was to attack from three directions simultaneously, with the town of Yuanqu on the Yellow River as the primary objective. Yuanqu was the hinge of the entire Chinese position: it controlled the main river crossings, served as the central supply point for the garrison, and sat at the narrowest point between the mountains and the water. If Yuanqu fell, the Chinese would be cut off from their supply line and divided into two separate pockets. Then each pocket could be destroyed at leisure. To execute this, Tada organized his forces into three attack groups. The eastern group, built around Lieutenant General Harada Yukichi's 35th Division with elements of the 21st Division and the 4th Independent Cavalry Brigade — totaling roughly 25,000 men with armor, artillery, and supporting puppet forces — would drive westward along the Daoqing Road, pushing through Jiyuan and Mengxian toward the eastern flank of the Chinese position. The northeastern group, under Lieutenant General Shozo Sakurai commanding the 33rd Division and an Independent Mixed Brigade, would descend from Yangcheng southward, striking at the middle of the Chinese line. The western and northwestern group, the largest, comprising the 36th, 37th, and 41st Divisions along with the 9th and 16th Independent Mixed Brigades, would push southward from multiple points between Sangchi and Zhangdian, driving straight for Yuanqu. The final element of the plan was the most audacious. Japanese special forces and paratroopers were to land behind Chinese lines on the opening night of the offensive, targeting the Chinese headquarters and communications nodes. If the Chinese command could be blinded and paralyzed in the first hours of the battle, resistance would collapse before it could organize. Given the penetration of the garrison by Japanese intelligence, the paratroopers knew precisely where to go. From late April, Japanese forces quietly moved into their assault positions. Supply dumps were stocked. Artillery was registered on Chinese positions. The attack was set for the morning of May 7, 1941. Everything was ready. The battle opened before dawn on May 7, and it opened everywhere at once. On the eastern front, Harada's 35th Division and its attached formations crossed the start line and drove westward in three parallel columns along the Daoqing Road. More than 5,000 infantrymen, 1,000 cavalry, dozens of artillery pieces, over 100 tanks and armored vehicles, and the supporting puppet troops of Zhang Lanfeng and Liu Yanfeng poured into the Chinese-held area around Jiyuan and Mengxian. The assault had an almost mechanical quality — it moved at the pace of its armor and artillery, methodically grinding through whatever lay in its path. On the northeastern front, Sakurai's 33rd Division descended from Yangcheng with more than 10,000 men, striking at Wu Shimin's 98th Army at Dongfeng Town. Wu was one of the more aggressive Chinese commanders in the garrison, and he did not wait to be overwhelmed. He threw his forces into active resistance on multiple axes, contesting each Japanese advance rather than simply absorbing it. In the fighting around Wangcun, his troops achieved one of the campaign's rare Chinese tactical successes, routing approximately 2,000 Japanese attackers and killing more than 700, including Colonel Hamada, a Japanese regimental commander. It was a genuine local victory, but it could not change the larger picture. On the western and northwestern front, the main Japanese force pushed south with its eyes fixed on Yuanqu. The coordinated weight of three divisions and two independent brigades, all moving along converging axes, was designed to be overwhelming. Individually, a Chinese unit might hold a ridge or a pass for a day. Collectively, there was no way to stop what was coming. And that same night, as the Chinese scrambled to respond to attacks on every side, Japanese paratroopers landed near Chinese headquarters positions. They found what intelligence had promised: a command system already in disarray, staffed by officers who had received no coherent orders and had lost communications with most of their subordinate units. The Japanese were not wrong when they predicted they could paralyze the Chinese command within hours. By the morning of May 8, the Chinese First War Zone headquarters had effectively ceased to function as a coordinating body. Individual armies would fight on, but they would fight alone. The second day of the battle brought the decisive blow. On the afternoon of May 8, the 9th Army under Pei Changhui — already reeling from the pressure of the eastern Japanese columns — abandoned the cities of Ji and Meng and fell back westward. The withdrawal opened a path through the Chinese line, and the Japanese exploited it immediately. That evening, with the assistance of paratroopers who had secured key access routes overnight, Japanese forces reached Yuanqu on the Yellow River's northern bank and took it. The fall of Yuanqu changed everything. At a single stroke, the Chinese garrison's supply line from the south bank of the Yellow River was severed. The main crossing points were in Japanese hands. The two halves of the Chinese position — those to the east of Yuanqu and those to the west — were now separated, unable to reinforce one another. The double encirclement that Tada had designed on paper became a physical reality on the ground. The trap had closed. May 9 brought further disaster. Japanese forces captured Wufujian, another significant point in the Chinese rear. And on this day the battle's human cost began to register in the most stark terms possible. Wang Jun, commander of the newly formed 27th Division of Kong Lingxun's 80th Army, was killed in action fighting in the southern Shanxi mountains. Major General Chen Wenqi, deputy commander of the 24th Division, died in fierce combat near Taizhai Village. And Major General Liang Xixian, having retreated with the remnants of his force to Taizhai and found every route blocked — his options reduced to surrender or death — walked into the Yellow River and drowned himself. He was not the last Chinese officer to choose death over capture. The loss of three generals in a single day was not merely tragic. It reflected something about the nature of the battle that the casualty statistics alone could not capture: the Chinese officers who fought most fiercely and refused to abandon their positions were precisely the men dying, while the broader institutional structure that should have supported them had already failed. The garrison was being consumed from its fighting edge inward. Over the following two days, the Japanese methodically tightened the ring. The eastern column, having taken Yuanqu, split into two prongs: one drove eastward, capturing Shaoyuan by the morning of May 12 and linking up with the forces that had been pressing westward from Jiyuan; the other drove westward to Wufujian, joining with the troops already there. The inner encirclement was now complete and continuous. The Yellow River crossings along the entire Chinese front were blocked. There was no route south that wasn't already under fire or in Japanese hands. The fighting in the mountain passes was, by all accounts, ferocious. At Fengmenkou — a critical pass that both sides recognized as a key chokepoint — the Chinese 9th Army committed the main force of its newly formed 24th Division along with elements of the 54th Division, fighting for every ridge and ravine. The Japanese sent reinforcements and simply absorbed the punishment, pressing forward until numbers and artillery told. By May 12, the position at Jianshan had been surrounded as well, and the outer ring of encirclement had sealed. The Chinese armies in the Zhongtiao Mountains were now divided into isolated pockets, each fighting separately, each trying to find a gap in the Japanese lines that simply wasn't there. Beyond the mountains, the Chinese high command in Luoyang was issuing desperate orders. Units that had already been overrun were instructed to hold positions they no longer occupied. Army commanders who had lost contact with their corps were told to coordinate with formations they couldn't reach. The gap between the orders flowing from headquarters and the reality on the ground had become absolute. The First War Zone command was, in practical terms, a spectator to the destruction of its own army. Of all the days in the three-week battle, May 13 was perhaps the most devastating for Chinese morale. At Cunbu, in the western sector, the 3rd Army under Lieutenant General Tang Huaiyuan had been surrounded and cut off. Tang was among the finest officers in the Nationalist army — a career soldier of exceptional ability, admired by subordinates and superiors alike, the kind of commander who by his personal presence could steady troops on the edge of breaking. He had led the 3rd Army in continuous fighting since May 7, conducting a fighting retreat that had preserved more of his force than most. But there was nowhere left to retreat to. Cunbu was surrounded on all sides. The Yellow River was behind him. The Japanese were in front. Tang Huaiyuan sat with his surviving officers and told them that he would not surrender. Then he shot himself. He was fifty-seven years old. On the same day, Cun Xingqi, commander of the 12th Division, was hit eight times during close combat and died on the field. The tally of dead general officers had now reached five in the space of a week. Tang Huaiyuan's death, unlike the others, resonated as something more than a military loss. He was a symbol of what the Zhongtiao defense had once represented: the possibility that courage and skill could compensate for disadvantages in firepower and logistics. His death seemed to say, loudly, that that possibility was exhausted. Chiang Kai-shek, when news reached him in Chongqing, personally ordered that Tang Huaiyuan be posthumously promoted and honored. The gesture was well-intentioned and entirely beside the point. Tang was dead. His army was destroyed. The gesture could not undo either fact. With the double encirclement complete and the primary Chinese resistance broken, the Japanese Army entered the second and less dramatic but equally brutal phase of its operation: the systematic clearance of what remained. Beginning around May 15, Japanese units shifted from the headlong offensive drives of the first week to methodical sweep operations, moving through the mountain terrain in organized formations, pressing into each remaining pocket and eliminating whatever resistance they found. The Yellow River's northern bank was secured by Japanese forces who established posts at the crossing points, blocking retreat and interdicting any resupply attempt. From the western front, sweep operations continued in a series of movements that lasted until well into June, each one driving Chinese remnants further into smaller and more untenable positions. Japanese after-action reports from this period read with the clinical detachment of men doing carpentry rather than fighting: so many positions cleared, so many prisoners taken, so many bodies counted. For the surviving Chinese forces, this period was one of desperate improvisation. With coordinated resistance impossible and every organized position either taken or surrounded, the remnant armies broke up into smaller columns and attempted to find their own routes out of the encirclement. Their experiences varied enormously depending on their starting position, the initiative of their commanders, and fortune. The remnants of the 3rd Army and 15th Army, under Zeng Wanzhong of the 5th Army Group, managed to push through to Yellow River crossings in the west and get their men across to the south bank, eventually reorganizing at Luoyang and Xin'an. The 93rd Army, which had occupied positions in the northeast, shook off the Japanese pursuit with sufficient speed and organization to cross at Yumenkou and escape into Hancheng County in Shaanxi Province, preserving more of its fighting strength than most. Wu Shimin's 98th Army — whose fighting at Wangcun had been one of the campaign's genuine bright spots — was pushed northward into the Taiyue Mountains, conducting guerrilla operations as it went. Wu himself was wounded during the withdrawal and would spend months recovering; he never fully recovered his health, and would die by suicide the following year. The 43rd Army under Zhao Shiling, which had held Yuanqu before its fall, managed a fighting withdrawal toward Fushan and Yicheng in the north. Pei Changhui's 9th Army conducted several days of guerrilla operations along the Daoqing Road before finding crossings at Xiaodukou and Guanyangdukou and getting across the Yellow River to safety. By May 27, the great majority of the Zhongtiao Mountain garrison had either been destroyed, captured, or withdrawn. The mountains that had held for three years were in Japanese hands. The battle, for all practical purposes, was over. The two sides emerged from the battle with starkly different accounts of what had happened, and the gap between those accounts is itself revealing. Japanese operational records claimed that their forces had killed approximately 42,000 Chinese soldiers on the battlefield, taken around 35,000 prisoners, captured enormous quantities of weapons and supplies, and inflicted total Chinese casualties exceeding 100,000. Against this, Japanese headquarters reported their own losses as 673 killed and 2,292 wounded — a ratio so lopsided that it seemed to describe a completely different kind of warfare. Whether or not the precise numbers are accurate, Japanese sources were consistent in portraying the battle as a catastrophic one-sided rout. The Chinese government's official figures, presented to the public and to allied nations, told a very different story. Nationalist records acknowledged approximately 13,751 officers and soldiers killed, wounded, gassed, or missing, while claiming Japanese casualties of around 9,900. These numbers, by the standards of the actual fighting and the geographic scale of the defeat, strained credulity. They were the numbers of a government that needed, for political and morale reasons, to minimize a disaster it could not afford to fully acknowledge. What is beyond dispute is the strategic result. The Zhongtiao garrison, which had held for three years against thirteen prior offensives, had been destroyed in twenty days. The last significant Nationalist Chinese presence north of the Yellow River in the region had been eliminated. Japan now controlled the northern bank of the river for a substantial stretch, had secured its supply lines through southern Shanxi, and had opened the door for future pressure on Luoyang and ultimately Xi'an. The mountain barrier that had allowed Chinese forces to threaten Japanese logistics was gone. It would not be rebuilt. Six senior Chinese generals had died in the battle: Wang Jun, Chen Wenqi, Liang Xixian, Tang Huaiyuan, Cun Xingqi, and others in the fighting. Their deaths were individually remarkable — men choosing death over surrender at rate that reflected both the desperate conditions of the battle and a code of honor that many of them explicitly invoked in their final moments. They were also, in aggregate, a measure of how completely the officer corps had been consumed. In the decades since the battle, historians have returned repeatedly to the question of why a position held for three years collapsed so completely in three weeks. The answers are neither simple nor flattering to the Nationalist government, and they were debated with bitter intensity in Chongqing even while the battle was still being fought. The most immediate cause was the removal of Wei Lihuang. This was not merely the loss of a capable general — it was the destruction of the institutional knowledge and personal relationships that had made the defense function. The Zhongtiao garrison was not simply a collection of soldiers in mountain positions; it was a system, carefully constructed over three years, that depended on specific command relationships, established logistics arrangements, and particular allocation of resources. Wei had built that system. Without him, and without any adequate replacement, it became something far more brittle than it appeared. Below the level of high command, the garrison's gradual corruption was an equally powerful factor. The trading networks, the opium commerce, the penetration by Japanese intelligence — these were not incidental problems but symptoms of a deeper institutional failure. An army that has spent three years in static defensive positions, chronically undersupplied and without a meaningful offensive mission, tends toward exactly this kind of decay. The Nationalist government's decision to prioritize anti-Communist friction operations over Zhongtiao's fighting readiness had removed the 4th Army Group — the backbone of the defense — and had consumed Wei Lihuang's attention and political capital at the worst possible moment. The Japanese plan, too, deserves credit it rarely receives in Chinese accounts of the battle. The three-pronged converging attack on Yuanqu was not simply overwhelming force applied to an obvious target. It was an elegant solution to the genuine tactical puzzle that the Zhongtiao mountains presented, exploiting the garrison's geographic vulnerability with a precision that turned the defenders' mountain terrain from an asset into a trap. The use of paratroopers to decapitate the Chinese command in the opening hours was a sophisticated operational concept that worked almost exactly as designed. Tada Shun was not lucky. He was thorough. Finally, there is the question of Chiang Kai-shek's own priorities. His reported weeping upon receiving news of the defeat was genuine, in the sense that the loss clearly shocked and grieved him. But the decisions that led to the defeat — Wei Lihuang's removal, the transfer of the 4th Army Group, the neglect of fortification and resupply in the months preceding the battle — had been made in Chongqing, not in the mountains. The Zhongtiao garrison had been strategically sacrificed, piece by piece, for political calculations in the internal factional struggle between Nationalists and Communists. Whether Chiang understood the cost of those choices before May 7, 1941, is debatable. After that date, it was difficult to pretend otherwise. The fall of the Zhongtiao Mountains did not end the War of Resistance, but it substantially worsened China's strategic position in the north. Over the following months, Japan used its consolidated control of southern Shanxi to increase pressure on the Yellow River line and probe toward Luoyang. The surviving Chinese armies, reorganized south of the river, were in no position to counterattack. The mountains themselves, stripped of their garrison and secured by Japanese occupation troops, became part of the extended Japanese occupation zone — a territory to be administered and exploited rather than contested. For the men who had fought there, the battle left wounds that went beyond the physical. Entire armies had to be rebuilt from remnants. Officers who had retreated, whether under orders or on their own initiative, faced boards of inquiry in an atmosphere of recrimination and blame-seeking. Some were cashiered. Some faced criminal proceedings. The search for culpability — which was genuine enough, since the failure was genuine — tended to fall on those least able to defend themselves rather than on the senior commanders and political figures whose decisions had created the conditions for defeat. The posthumous honors awarded to Tang Huaiyuan, Liang Xixian, Wang Jun, and the other officers who died in battle were heartfelt, and they were also convenient. The heroic dead could be elevated without requiring the living to answer uncomfortable questions. Their sacrifice was real. The system that wasted it was also real. In the broader history of the Second Sino-Japanese War, the Battle of Zhongtiao Mountain tends to be overshadowed by more famous engagements — Shanghai, Nanjing, Taierzhuang, the later battles along the Salween. This is partly because the Chinese side lost comprehensively and had little interest in memorializing the loss, and partly because the battle's significance was more strategic than dramatic. There was no great last stand, no single moment of heroism sufficient to redeem the catastrophe. There were only men dying in mountain passes, generals walking into rivers, and an entire defensive system disintegrating under the weight of its own contradictions. What the Battle of Zhongtiao Mountain represents, in the end, is a case study in how military positions are really lost. They are rarely lost on the battlefield alone. They are lost in the staff meetings where capable commanders are removed for political reasons. They are lost in the supply depots that never get restocked. They are lost in the informal economies that grow up when institutions stop functioning. They are lost in the intelligence assessments that are written and ignored. They are lost, finally and irreversibly, in the early morning hours when the guns open simultaneously on three sides and the men at the radios discover that no one is answering.     I would like to take this time to remind you all that this podcast is only made possible through the efforts of Kings and Generals over at Youtube. Please go subscribe to Kings and Generals over at Youtube and to continue helping us produce this content please check out www.patreon.com/kingsandgenerals. If you are still hungry after that, give my personal channel a look over at The Pacific War Channel at Youtube, it would mean a lot to me. On May 7, 1941, Japan opened a three-front assault on Zhongtiao Mountains; paratroopers disrupted command night. With the 9th Army withdrawing, Yuanqu fell on May 8, severing supply and trapping the garrison. Fighting raged through May 13, costing generals, until Japanese sweeps cleared pockets; survivors escaped south of Yellow River.

Marcela Tobiášová v nové epizodě podcastu Ve stínu popisuje okamžik, kdy navzdory vlastním obavám předávala děti zpět do biologické rodiny. Její příběh není ojedinělý. Přinášíme i další případy dětí, u kterých přišla pomoc pozdě.Smrt tříleté Viktorky, jejíž příběh zmapovala podcastová série Ve stínu, vyvolala mimořádnou veřejnou reakci. Vznikly petice, veřejné výzvy i komise pro přezkum nepřirozených úmrtí dětí. Do redakce zároveň začala přicházet další svědectví o dětech, u nichž měli jejich blízcí pocit, že systém ochrany selhal.Některé z těchto příběhů uslyšíte i v debatě, kterou podcast Ve stínu uspořádal.Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

Marcela Tobiášová v nové epizodě podcastu Ve stínu popisuje okamžik, kdy navzdory vlastním obavám předávala děti zpět do biologické rodiny. Její příběh není ojedinělý. Přinášíme i další případy dětí, u kterých přišla pomoc pozdě. Smrt tříleté Viktorky, jejíž příběh zmapovala podcastová série Ve stínu, vyvolala mimořádnou veřejnou reakci. Vznikly petice, veřejné výzvy i komise pro přezkum nepřirozených úmrtí dětí. Do redakce zároveň začala přicházet další svědectví o dětech, u nichž měli jejich blízcí pocit, že systém ochrany selhal. Některé z těchto příběhů uslyšíte i v debatě, kterou podcast Ve stínu uspořádal. Přijďte na naše živé vystoupení dne 26. 8. ke kauze v Zoo Praha. Bližší informace a vstupenky naleznete zde. Těšíme se na vás.

Tony revisits Ji, a visually striking sci‑fi romance short that imagines a future where humanity has fractured across worlds. After centuries of pollution, war, and collapse, Earth is left in ruins. The East escapes to build a pristine off‑world colony called Nilo, while the West seals itself behind fortified walls. From this divide emerges Ji, a disciplined Nilo general played by Lewis Tan. Rumors swirl on Nilo that life still exists on Earth — a claim their government denies. Ji risks everything to descend to the planet of his ancestors, only to discover Tiffany, a resilient Earth survivor portrayed by Eva De Dominici. Their connection forces Ji into a choice that could reshape both worlds. Tony chatted with Ben Griffin to explore the film's emotional core, its world‑building, and the timeless tension between duty and love. SAVE 17% ON PLUS  

News,  Prague's Jiřího z Poděbrad Square officially reopens, Troja Festival,  interview with Czech climber František D'Agostino

Di vê bûletenê de: Ji qezayên trafîkê bêtir Australî ji ber bikaranîna madeya hoşber dimirin... DFAT hişyariyên rêwîtiyê ji bo hin welatên Rojhilata Navîn sivik dike. Û di Kûpa Cîhanê de, Fransa û Norwêc kampaynên xwe bi serkeftinan dest pê kirirn. Ew nûçeyana û nûçeyên din di bûlentenê de hene.

The Dazai no Sochi--the head of the Yamato government in Kyushu--was a powerful position, with a lot of autonomy with lucrative opportunities.  The people in this position were often powerful members of the court capable of representing the sovereign.  They would often go on to become quite powerful in their own right.  So who were the movers and shakers that held this prestigious position during Uno no Sarara's reign?  This episode, we take a look at those who held the position and those who supported them. For more, check out our blogpost:  https://sengokudaimyo.com/podcast/episode-151 PS:  Hang around to the end (or check the end of the transcript) for information on some possible updates coming to the show. Rough Transcript Welcome to Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.  My name is Joshua and this is Episode 151: The Dazai no Sochi of the late 7th century   Tsukushi no Masaru was busy.  A new boss was coming in, and he wanted to make sure everything was prepared.  The Dazai may have been about as far as one could get from the capital and still be in Yamato, but it was also the first—and sometimes only—encounter some would have with the archipelago, so there was no excuse to be slacking off.  Of course, this was hardly his first new boss, though for as long as he'd been on the job, each one could well be his last.  He was getting a bit long in the tooth, after all.  Twenty-nine years was a long time to be working in the same position.  As Masaru paused, he thought back on some of the people he'd served.  There was Soga no Akae—he was ambitious.  Apparently he'd been in some rather compromising positions before coming out, but he'd done well enough when he went back.  Shame that he backed the wrong horse. That did bring a chuckle to old Masaru's throat, though.  He remembered when Prince Kurikuma had come out there, to the the Dazai, , and there were still people around who told stories of him.  When those Afumi court stooges had showed up to try and conscript the barrier guards, Prince Kurikuma and his sons just stared them down.  Everyone had been afraid that it would end in bloodshed, or at least that there would be consequences for defying the court, but Kurikuma was adamant, and the messenger had left with his tail firmly between his legs. Then there was Shima. By the time he came, Masaru already knew how everything was supposed to work. He may not have been in charge, but that wasn't his ambition.  It was enough for him to be good at what he did.  He didn't need to go all the way to the Palace and deal with the politics there—there were enough politics out here already.  Shima, though, he was clearly suited for that Palace life.  He was a capable administrator, but Masaru could tell he was ambitious.  When he left, everyone knew that he would be going on to bigger and better things. And now there was another Prince coming out. So they would get the government offices prepared and greet him with proper fanfare.  They'd bring him in and hold the ceremonies, and then they would get down to work.  A stream of officers would present him with what they were working on and what had to happen.  Masaru would be there to help make sure that everything was running smoothly and nothing got too out of hand.  And that was the way things worked out on the edge of the realm.   Welcome back to Sengoku Daimyo.  We are still covering the reign of Uno no Sarara, and, similar to last episode, we are going to continue to talk about the people who made up Yamato at this time.  This episode, more specifically, we are going to be turning away from the capital, in Asuka, and looking all the way over to Tsukushi—modern Kyushu—and at the people who served as Dazai no Sochi, or head of the local government out there, as well as the bureaucrats and staff that worked for them—at least as far we know.  Many of them went on to have considerable careers that took them well beyond Kyushu.  At the same time, we'll take a look at some of the things that happened under their rule as what Aston translates as the "Viceroy of Tsukushi". After that, I have a special announcement about the podcast at the end of the episode, so if you are interested in learning more about what we plan on doing, please listen all the way to the end to hear about some plans for the future. And with that out of the way, let's begin. So we are talking about the position of Dazai no Sochi or the Viceroy of Tsukushi.  Often these people are referred to only as being of the "Tsukushi no Dazai" or the "Tsukushi no Ohomochi".  The term "Sochi" appears later, and we first see this term applied to Prince Kawachi, in 689.  It seems to show up with two different characters, which might be a term from the later Taihou code that was retroactively applied or may refer to an evolution of the position over time.  I'm honestly not sure.  There is still plenty of confusion over what was meant in some of the references. We've discussed this position before on the podcast: This was the sovereign's representative to the world outside of the archipelago.  Not only did the Dazai no Sochi  oversee all of Tsukushi—all of Kyushu— and extensive defensive forces stationed there and in the outlying islands, but they oversaw all diplomatic and trade missions to and from the archipelago.  Envoy missions would come to Tsushima, where they would get a local pilot and send word ahead.  They would then be received at the government center, the Dazai, near modern Fukuoka and Hakata bay.  For most envoys, this was as close as they would ever get to Yamato proper.  They would offload their goods there and be put up at the government supplied quarters in Wogohori.  They would be wined and dined there, entertained as appropriate to their status, while word was sent on to the capital.  In rare cases, envoys would be sent on another journey through the inland sea to Naniwa, and then on to Asuka, but otherwise their journey would end at the Dazaifu.  Any return gifts would come back with the correspondence from the capital, and thus be handed out to the envoys and their escorts before the mission was sent back home to Silla, Tamna, or wherever they had come from. Being the middle man in this operation offered a lot of power and authority, but it also would have been quite lucrative.  While diplomatic missions brought gifts for the court, they also brought  trade goods, of which the Dazai no Sochi could have first  pick.  This is on top of the fact that this position often came with a stipend equaling the labor of hundreds of individuals.  Many of the Dazai no Sochi would serve limited terms, eventually returning to Asuka, where we see them take on powerful positions. Take, for example, our first Dazai no Sochi, Tajihi no Mabito no Shima. Tajihi no Shima was born, we are told, in or around 624 to Tajihi no Maro and a daughter of Ohotomo no Hirafu.  Tajihi no Maro, Shima's father was a powerful noble in the court of Ohoama, aka Temmu Tennou, and he had enough standing that he was one of the named individuals who provided eulogies for Ohoama on the occasion of his passing.   The Tajihi family were quite well placed: they were descendants of Hinokuma no Takata no Miko, aka Senka Tennou, Shima's great-grandfather.  This earned them the kabane of "Mabito", or "True Person" because of their royal lineage.   Tajihi no Shima was placed in charge of the Dazai from at least 682.  His predecessor that we know about is Prince Yagaki, who was dismissed around 676, and we don't know who filled the gap between him and Shima. Shima had quite the run.  We don't know exactly when he returned to the court in Asuka, but it cannot have been later than 689, when we see Awada no Mahito in the position.  A year later, in 690, Shima was made Udaijin, or minister of the right.  That's a huge deal and we will talk about that in a bit, but what did Shima actually oversee during his tenure as Dazai no Sochi? We have quite a few events attributed to him, this reign.  In 686, we see the Tsukushi no Dazai sending tribute in the form of human beings:  Common men and women of Goguryeo, Baekje, and Silla, along with 62 priests and nuns.  We aren't told where these men and women came from, but I suspect that they were refugees or captives from all the fighting on the peninsula.  That they were given as tribute suggests to me that they were enslaved—or at the very least they were not free.  If they were uneducated, they were likely put to work as labor, perhaps building out the new capital or opening new farmlands.  Later we see the various missions from Silla around the death of Ohoama, and the back and forth that went on, there, and in 688 the Tsukushi no Dazai entertained Kara, a Minister of Tamna, aka modern Jeju island, who had been sent by the king of that small country.  You may recall that Tamna, while late to the game, may have been one of the last holdouts of an early Japonic speaking people outside of the archipelago. Being the Tsukushi no Dazai, Shima would not have only been concerned with foreign envoys, but also with two other groups of Hayato—specifically the Ohosumi no Hayato and the Ata no Hayato.  Little is known about them, other than that Yamato considered them to be distinct ethnic and cultural groups living in the far south of Kyushu.  We've talked before about how southern Kyushu maintained a significantly different material culture through Kofun period until more recent times.  We also have indication that they had a distinctive shield and even art style—the famous "Hayato shields" appear to have been appropriated by the court, along with a contingent of Hayato men that were expected to act as an exotic guard for the sovereign and the court.  The earliest reliable evidence we have for them is a record from 682.  There are some questions as to whether or not they were related to the groups previously called Kumaso or even the Tsuchigumo, but there is no clear historical or archaeological  evidence linking them other than the common cultural finds in Kyushu more generally. The Ata and Ohosumi Hayato may have been distinct clans or lineage groups living in Ohosumi and the area of modern Satsuma.  We have a record in 687 of the Ata no Hayato attending Ohoama's funeral and presenting a eulogy.  The chiefs who came brought 337 others—a sizeable contingent—and they were all given presents by the court.  Later, we would see presents given out to 174 Hayato by Shima's successor in the Dazai, Awada no Mahito, and then in 692 we know that the court sent priests to preach Buddhism to Ata and Ohosumi.    In 695, Hayato of Ohosumi were entertained in the capital, and they even held a wrestling match for the Queen and her attendants in the area west of Asukadera, by the site of the famous Tsuki tree. So the Hayato would have been another group that Shima no doubt dealt with on a somewhat regular basis in his capacity as Dazi no Sochi—and then later on when he returned to Asuka and took up his new role as Udaijin.   And as I mentioned, that appointment was a Big Deal.  The position of Udaijin had been vacant since Nakatomi no Kane, one of the infamous leaders of the Afumi court, was non-consensually removed from the position—and this plane of existence—when he was executed in 672, at the closure of the Jinshin no Ran.  After that, Ohoama appears to have been gun-shy about sharing power with anyone outside the royal family.  The position had been left vacant for about 18 years.  So what made Uno no Sarara take up Shima as Minister of the Right?  And what about the Minister of the Left, or the Sadaijin? Well, we don't have a Sadaijin, but we do have a Dajodaijin in the form of Prince Takechi, Ohoama's first-born son.  The Dajodaijin was the Prime Minister in charge of the entire Dajokan, the Council of State, made up of the ministers of the left and right and the 8 bureaus of the government.  The Sadaijin and Udaijin served under the Dajodaijin, in that hierarchical order, with the Sadaijin generally being considered higher in precedence.  So it looks like, in this case, they had the Dajodaijin, Prince Takechi to run the Council and Shima, as Udaijin would have been responsible for ensuring the administration of the eight bureaus was properly carried out. That Shima was appointed just under Prince Takechi again shows the power and influence he likely had and the trust he must have had from Uno no Sarara.  Remember, the Crown Prince, Kusakabe, had died before he could take the throne.  Uno was enthroned as Queen, while the Crown Prince, Karu, was still a minor.  Whereas Ohoama had his wife and many sons to help him run things, Uno no Sarara was running thin.  As had been seen with Prince Ohotsu, there was always the threat that one of Ohoama's other sons could be propped up on the throne.  Uno had to look after Karu's birthright, but there was no guarantee that he would make it to adulthood in times before modern medicine.  It appears that Prince Takechi was actually considered the next in line, just in case something happened to Karu before he could ascend the throne, which makes sense that Prince Takechi was also trusted as Dajo Daijin.  Shima's place as Udaijin must have been indicative of similar trust that he would look after the royal family's interests.  This was no doubt helped by the role he played as Dazai no Sochi. As Udajin, Tajihi no Shima went on to have a rather incredible career.  He was given 4 cho of land for his residence.  This appears to be around 10 acres or so—a not inconsiderable amount of land, and it probably refers to the amount of land he was granted in the new Fujiwara capital city.  Later, in the Nara capital of Heijo-kyo, Prince Nagaya's residence was about that size and Fujiwara no Nakamaro's residence is thought to have been about twice that.  This would have given Shima space for multiple buildings, sprawling gardens, servants quarters, quarters for his wives and children, and much more. Tajihi no Shima would continue in his role as Udaijin, and would eventually, be promoted to the position of Sadaijin, a post he held only briefly, as he passed away almost a year later. He was not forgotten, however.  It is thought that he was the model for one of the suitors of Kaguya Hime in the famous story of Taketori Monogatari—the tale of the Bamboo Cutter.  Taketori Monogatari, also known as Kaguya Hime Monogatari, is considered the oldest known story in the Monogatari form.  It was probably written in the late 9th or early 10th century, with references to it appearing in works as early as 909 CE.  This suggests that Tajihi no Shima and others were still remembered, at least in part, over a century later. Shima is also thought to have been the patron of the famous poet, Kakinomoto no Hitomaro, one of the famous 36 immortal poets.  We'll have to include Hitomaro in a later episode, though we might come back to him after this reign, as he isn't mentioned in the Chronicles, but we do have some fragmentary biographical information thanks to his inclusion in the Man'yoshu.  In fact, he's probably one of the most famous poets in the Man'yoshu who is not otherwise mentioned.  We are told that he was the court poet during the reign of Uno no Sarara, so it makes sense that Shima may have very well been his patron and helped him get his start. Now while Shima was back in Asuka, making it big in the court, the position of Tsukushi no Dazai had to be filled, and we are told that the mantle was taken up by Awada no Mahito no Ason.  This name is a bit tricky, as it seems to have two kabane:  Mahito and Ason.  Since his father is said to have been Kasuga no Awada no Omi no Kudara, the assumption seems to be that "Mahito" was his name, rather than his kabane.  Although it was likely pronounced "Mabito" at the time, I'm going to go with the modern pronunciation of "Mahito" in part to distinguish it from the kabane.  A quick side note:  When reading names from this period, we usually see the kabane coming right after the family name, as the kabane is basically a rank for the family and not the individual.  But we do occasionally see the kabane tacked on at the end of a name, as in Awada no Mahito's case.  I would also like to quickly draw your attention to his father's name:  Kudara.  That can also be read as Baekje.  Was this an indication that his father or an ancestor came from the continent, perhaps from Baekje?  Or just that he had close ties to that kingdom?  I couldn't find anything specific, but it seems interesting that he was put in place at the Dazai, where dealing with the continent would have been an important part of his duties. Awada no Mahito was not just a noble of the court, and even if his father was of Baekje descent, that may not have been the main thing that gained him the position.  It may have also had to do with an earlier incident.  We are told that in 653 Mahito was one of those who traveled with the 2nd envoy to the Tang court as a scholar monk.  He would later return to secular life, but that experience must have been a big feather in his cap, helping him land a good position at court.  In fact, in 685, we are told that he was Jikikwoushi rank—a fairly respectable position for anyone at the time—and he apparently tried to get his father raised to the same rank as he was.  Aston translates the record as saying he was willing to give his rank to his father, but it is unclear to me if this means he was offering to give up his rank altogether.  At the very least it seems that he felt awkward outranking his father—a good, filial attitude, it would seem.  However, Ohoama didn't care.  In the past, rank may have been given to entire families, but now the court was giving rank to individuals, and the rank Mahito had earned was his, not his father's.  And so his request was denied. Four years later, Ohoama was gone and Awada no Mahito was sent to the Tsukushi no Dazai.  We are told that he was in that position as of 689.  If that was the position of Dazai no Sochi, however, he didn't hold it for long, as Prince Kawachi was raised up to that position that same year, and here we have a bit of a conundrum.  Mahito is only mentioned as "Tsukushi no Dazai" while Prince Kawachi is specifically mentioned, at least twice, as Tsukushi no Dazai no Sochi.  There are some who suggest that Mahito may have been the Dazai Daini, an assistant to the Dazai no Sochi—effectively the second-in-command it would appear.  This makes some sense, when you consider it, and he may even have been acting Dazai no Sochi until Prince Kawachi was appointed. Of course, because our records are quite lackluster, and we are never actually told when Tajihi no Shima left the position, it is possible that Awada no Mahito was actually the Dazai Sochi for many years leading up to 689, and that Shima had returned to Asuka some time ago.  This is the problem with the way things are written—sometimes they mention a name and sometimes just a position, and rarely do they mention when someone stepped down. Still, Mahito oversaw a few things that we can be somewhat sure about as they happened after he is first mentioned in the position, though it was all in the same year.  For one thing, he is the one who presented gifts to the 174 Hayato in the first month of 689.  This included cloth, ox hides, and deerskins.  He was also there when the Queen sent relief to the Barrier Wardens whose terms were up.  These were the Sakimori, a position set up to defend the archipelago and repel any potential invasions.  I would assume they were regularly rotated out, especially if they were expected to man the fortifications out on some of the islands.  It is interesting that we don't often see them referenced, so it isn't clear to me why the reference was made here—it may have just been a note in one of the sources the Chroniclers were using. Later that same year, we also see garments being given out—likely meaning official court clothing—to the Tsukushi Dazai and others.  This was probably to bring them all in line with the latest formal wear being used in the court in Asuka.  We also know that in the 6th month of that year they entertained the Silla envoys, who were given various presents. And then, two months later, Mahito is out and Prince Kawachi comes in.  At the same time that Prince Kawachi is being made the Dazai no Sochi, our previous Dazai no Sochi, Tajihi no Shima, had his rank and fief increased.   I doubt this was a coincidence, and it is one of the things that, for me, lends credence to the idea that Shima had just then returned to Asuka and Prince Kawachi was his replacement, suggesting that Mahito had really just been in an acting capacity while the change over was taking place. Unfortunately, if we were looking for more information about Prince Kawachi's background, we would be disappointed.  Although he is a prince, probably descended from Nunakura, aka Bidatsu Tennou, we don't have a lot about him.  He—or someone with the same name, since we do see these Princely titles get reused, it seems—is found in the reign of Ohoama traveling with Ohotomo no Yasumaro and Fujiwara no Ohoshima to go entertain Gim Jisyang of Silla.  Later we see a Prince Kawachi delivering eulogies during Ohoama's funeral.  That suggests he held an important position, and that he was somewhat familiar with the continent, but we don't get a whole lot more.  Our next evidence is when he was appointed to the post of Dazai no Sochi in 689, a position he would hold until his death in 694—which may also explain why we just don't see too much of him in the record.  A promising career may have been cut short, as happened all too often back in that day and age. Still, as Dazai no Sochi, he had plenty to keep him busy.  Not a month after he arrived, Isonokami no Maro and Ishikawa no Mishina arrived at the head of a delegation.  They were there to deliver patents of rank to members of the Tsukushi government and to inspect the fortifications at the edge of the archipelago.  These were the same fortifications being manned by the newly arrived Sakimori. Speaking of the members of the Tsukushi government, it took a lot of people to make the Dazaifu work, not just the Sochi giving people orders about what they should do.  There were numerous assistants helping to keep everything running.  Some of them would have just been dealing with the Sochi's own residence, while others were clerks, guards, and more.  It really was a miniature version of the court in Asuka, and would have required a lot of people to tend to it.  And we know of at least one of them:  Tsukushi no Fubito no Masaru, whose imagined thoughts we heard at the top of the episode.  In 691, Masaru was recognized for 29 years of service as a secretary to the Tsuksuhi no Dazai.  Twenty-nine years in place suggests to me that he would have likely been one of the longest serving members of the Tsukushi government center.  He would have known where all the bodies were buried—perhaps quite literally.  While the Dazai no Sochi was often a temporary appointment, sometimes just for a few years, they would have likely leaned on Masaru for his expertise.  This is just like how modern government appointees like ambassadors may come and go, including for political reasons, but they rely on permanent staff, including a lot of locals, to provide the institutional knowledge they need to do their jobs.  One can assume that if Masaru had been successful for 29 years he knew how things were supposed to work.  And so I hope that his superiors made sure to remember that when Secretary's day rolled around. Prince Kawachi didn't make it 29 years, but he made it five.  He might have gone even longer, but he died in office in 694 and was posthumously raised in rank for his service.  History is full of stories, but in real life, the stories don't always follow the expected narratives.  As much as we'd like to think otherwise, good, moral people do not always triumph and sometimes those who do awful things are never punished.  And some times stories come to abrupt ends.  Of course, looking back, it just is what it is.  Prince Kawachi's life becomes little more than a footnote.  And yet, what if he had gone on?  Would he have followed Tajihi no Shima to help become one of the grand ministers of the court?  Unfortunately, we will never know.  He could have been a rising star, but we just know about his passing. Five months after Prince Kawachi's untimely death, he was followed in the post by Prince Mino.  Prince Mino would continue in the position, it seems, through the end of the reign in 697—or at least nobody else was appointed until 700, when Isonokami no Maro—apparently the same one who had previously come out to inspect the fortifications during Prince Kawachi's tenure—was appointed.  Although he came into the position in the next reign, we'll still touch on him, as he was another notable figure at this time. Looking back at Prince Mino, however, we seem to run into a problem—there are too many Princes Mino in the record.  If you just use the English translations, you'll find several references to Prince Mino, but if you look at the original text, you'll see that there are at least three different spellings.  For one it means "Beautiful Field" and another is just "Three Fields".  A third "Mino" is spelled with characters that don't necessarily create obvious meaning, and may just be a phonetic spelling. It is possible that all of these Princes Mino are the same.  Spelling wasn't standard, and different characters could be used for the same name.  On the other hand, we have one set of characters being used to describe a Prince Mino who supported Ohoama during the Jinshin no Ran, while another, the "Three Fields" Prince Mino, describes one of the sons of Prince Kurikuma, who was with his father in Tsukushi when the Afumi court came calling.  Since travel wasn't necessarily an overnight endeavor—unless you were Ohoama, rushing through the mountains to the east—it would seem that the Prince Mino in Tsukushi is unlikely to be the same one as the Prince Mino who joined Ohoama's forces back in the Home Provinces. So let's make the assumption that Prince Mino—Prince "Three Fields" Mino—is one person and the others are separate.  What do we know about him? Well, he appears to have had experience with Tsukushi and the government out  there, since he would be the son of Prince Kurikuma, a former Tsukushi Dazai no Sochi.  We talked about Prince Kurikuma before, back in numerous episodes, but particularly in episodes 128 and Episode 144, as well as references in betweend. Prince Kurikuma was not only a significant factor in the outcome of the Jinshin no Ran, denying the Afumi court the resources of all of the defenders at the Tsukushi fortifications, he shows up in local legends in Tsukushi still today.  So he definitely seems to have had an impact on the region.  It also suggests that Prince Mino had connections in the area through his father. After his father's posting as Dazai no Sochi ended, Prince Mino appears to have returned with him to Asuka.  He is described as a key member in Ohoama's court.  He was one of the Princes mentioned in the audience at the Daigokuden in 681, when Ohoama instituted the commission to bring together the various court sources that we presume would eventually lead to the creation of the Chronicles—the Nihon Shoki and the Kojiki.  Later, he become a daibu, a high official, of the Household Bureau, responsible for the household of the sovereign, the sumera no mikoto.  This meant the upkeep of the palace, the kitchens, and the various servants waiting on the sovereign and his family.  This also means that he was likely close to the movers and shakers of the court. One of the projects under his purview appears to have been the laying out of a new palace and a new capital city.  In 682 he headed up the investigations at the place called Nihiki, determining that it would be a good location for what would eventually become Fujiwara-kyo—a project still underway in Queen Uno's reign.  He was also sent out to Shinano two years later to look for a site for a second capital.  It ended up not happening, but he spent a couple months and eventually came back with a map of the region.  It may be that the Fujiwara-kyo project took up a lot of Mino's time and effort, because we then don't hear from him for another decade, during which Ohama passed away and so much more happened.  Assuming he was still involved with the Fujiwara capital project, however, we see that in 691 there was a ceremony held for the tranquility of the new capital—a Chin-sai or, what we would today call a "Ji-chin-sai".  This is a "land pacification ceremony" done when breaking ground on a new building or other project.  So it looks like planning and land clearing had taken some 10 years, but it was finally ready to get started.  Later that same year we hear of them laying out the residences of high ranking nobles, like the Udaijin, Tajihi no Shima, and we also see the Queen inspecting the roads.  Then, a year later in 692, they were holding the land pacification ceremony for the new palace.  The queen would move into the new palace in the very last months of 694. But by that time, Prince Mino was on to his next assignment.  He had been appointed Tsukushi Dazai no Sochi earlier that year following the death of Prince Kawachi.  Not much more is said of Tsukushi for the next three years of the reign, but we do see the Hayato visiting Asuka, presumably with Prince Mino's assistance. We don't have a clear idea of when Prince Mino retired—it's certainly not in the Nihon Shoki—but we know that he did because he was succeeded in the role by none other than Isonokami no Maro, who would take up the position in 700.  Prince Mino, on the other hand, returned to the court, where he would eventually pass away in the year 708. And that was the last Dazai no Sochi who held the position during this reign, but I do want to talk about the one who came after Prince Mino just a bit—though more because this was an up-and-coming court noble whom we should be watching. Isonokami no Maro was born, by all accounts, in the year 640.  Despite his name he was actually born to a family that we know somewhat well from much earlier on: The Mononobe.  In fact, his father is apparently Mononobe no Muraji no Umaro, and he appears to be descended from the main line of the Mononobe family, which had declined ever since Mononobe no Moriya had been defeated and killed by Soga no Umako and others. And it seems that the Mononobe curse of being on the losing side in a contest for power hit Maro during the Jinshin no Ran, because we see him, at that time referenced as Mononobe no Muraji no Maro, along with two servants, or Toneri, serving Prince Ohotomo—aka Koubun Tennou—up to the very end.  In fact, when Ohotomo fled and the Afumi court deserted him, only Mononobe no Maro and the servants stayed with him when he eventually strangled himself. And one would think that would be it.   You were with the rival for the throne in the most contentious fight in recent memory.  You couldn't protect him and you were on the wrong side.  Sure, Ohoama was going to pardon you because he couldn't just rid himself of half of the court and hope things would still run smoothly—that would be a surefire recipe for disaster, and nobody wanted the government crippled like that.  However, you can't imagine that those on the losing side would be given any position of trust or authority. And yet, in 676, we see that Mononobe no Maro was sent to Silla.  And he wasn't just helping out: he was sent as the chief envoy of Ohoama's court.  That is quite the turnaround in four years, and we don't really know why, but it has been speculated that Ohoama was actually impressed.  While other members of the Afumi court fled and abandoned Ohotomo to his enemies, Maro and the two toneri with him did not, staying with Ohotomo until the bitter end, and likely conveying what had happened to the other side once it was all over.   That kind of loyalty was impressive, especially back then. It is also thought that Maro may have benefited from the fact that Enoi no Okimi, who was also descended from the Mononobe family, fought on the side of Ohoama.  This is a common scenario we see throughout Japanese history, where different members of the same family fight on different sides of a conflict, often meaning that no matter who wins the family can still claim to have been on the winning side.  When Okimi passed away in 676 he was posthumously recognized as the ujigami, or clan head, of the Mononobe, leading some to suspect that a bit of his shine may have rubbed off on Maro as well. In 684, when the various kabane were being rectified by Ohoama's court, the Mononobe no Muraji were included as Ason, or Asaomi.  There is some thought that around this time is when Maro changed his name to Isonokami, which is a name that was previously used by members of the Mononobe, including one of the brothers to Mononobe no Moriya.  We see him mentioned as Isonokami no Maro in 686, as one of those giving a eulogy for Ohoama: specifically he gives the eulogy on behalf of the Houkan, or Nori no Tsukasa, the Judicial officers.  He is mentioned right after Fuse no Miushi, whom we talked about last episode, who would go on to become a Dainagon and, later, Udaijin, or Minister of the Right. The first connection between Isonokami no Maro and Tsukushi was in 689, and we noted it earlier—he came out to inspect the fortifications as well as to hand out patents of rank to the court officials working out there on the edge of the realm.    He would return to Asuka in time to be a part of Uno no Sarara's official enthronement ceremonies.  There he is named Mononobe no Maro, and is in charge of the shields.  Given what we know of the role of the Mononobe as the early soldiers of the court, it makes sense that he would play this role, and that they would use the name Mononobe rather than Isonokami.  In the same way, the ritual was conducted by Fujiwara no Ohoshima, but he is recorded as Nakatomi no Ohoshima, probably because these were roles specifically for the Mononobe and Nakatomi, rather than for the Isonokami and the Fujiwara. This is another thing that can be quite frustrating when researching Japanese history—names can change at the drop of a hat, and people often had various ancestral names and titles that could be pulled out for various political or ceremonial reasons.  If you don't have the history or understand the nuance it can be easy to just think that it is a different person altogether.  And when you don't have much information, sometimes you have to ask yourself which is it? Maro would stay close to Queen Uno, even accompanying her to Ise shrine, and then, in the following reign, he would succeed Prince Mino as Dazai no Sochi in the year 700.  It isn't clear, however, if he left for the Dazaifu immediately, since in 701 he is noted as having been promoted from the office of Chunagon to Dainagon, and in that same year he went with Royal Prince Osakabe to pay respects at the house of the late Udaijin, Tajihi no Shima, who had just passed away.  He then left for Tsukushi in 702—or possibly headed back.  But in 703, he was once again back in Asuka, paying condolences on the death of the next Udaijin, Abe no Miushi—aka Fuse no Miushi, the same one whom Maro had pronounced a Eulogy with during the funeral ceremonies for Ohoama.  Isonokami no Maro would go on to take the mantle of Udaijin, and then eventually Sadaijin as well.  He would be raised up to the second rank, along with the famous Fujiwara no Fubito, who took the vacated position of Udaijin.  This meant that technically Maro was the senior of the two, though many people think that Fujiwara no Fubito held most of the actual power.  Regardless of that, Isonokami no Maro nonetheless would go on to become the highest ranking court noble before his eventual death in 717.  At that point he was 78 years old, by the reckoning of the day, and he had seen multiple sovereigns, several bloody conflicts, and the creation of two permanent capitals—Fujiwara kyo and Heijo kyo, in modern Nara.  He went from being a supporter in the Afumi court, on the wrong side of the Jinshin no Ran to become the highest ranking court noble in the land.  He would be granted the head of the Mononobe family and would continue to prosper as Isonokami.  It was truly a remarkable career over an incredible span of time. And there you have it.  A look at some of those that were sent out to the Dazaifu in Tsukushi.  In later years, the post of Dazai no Sochi would be seen more as a burden than a blessing, but at this point it was still a lucrative and powerful position.  Several of those involved in the Dazaifu or who held the position as Dazai no Sochi would go on to even more powerful positions back in Asuka.  Whilst this posting did move you further away from the politics—perhaps not always a bad thing—it also put you atop a structure where one had considerable power, authority, and autonomy, at least at this point. Next episode we'll get back to the court in Asuka and take a look at a little more of what is going on.  Before I end this, however, a quick administrative note about the podcast.  This creation is a labor of love.  It was started largely as a way to get myself to regularly dive into the Chronicles and really see what was going on.  In particular, I was excited about the Asuka period, because I don't think we really have enough of a sense of what life was like and what was going on back then.  It was clearly a very dynamic time, and yet we tend to see it through the lens of later Nara and Heian court culture, which was still very much evolving.  The stories that I *didn't* know about were what drew me to this project, and I hope that we've all learned a bit more as the project has continued. And we are reaching the end of the area that is covered by the main Chronicles, the Kojiki, the Nihon Shoki, and the Sendai Kuji Hongi, which have been our main guides through this period.  But that doesn't mean we are bringing things to a close. Next we have the Shoku Nihongi and many other grecords, and I am going to keep up with the project and the schedule as best I can.  In fact, it looks like I may be able to devote even more time to it in the near future as some drastic life changes are coming for me, such that I will no longer be working a 9-to-5 job while also trying to get this podcast out like clockwork twice a month—not to mention my other passion, teaching traditional Japanese martial arts here in the DC region at a local not-for-profit dojo.  This is happening as we are also in the process of building a house, traveling, and more.  But it does mean that we are going to be looking into alternative sources of funding beyond just donations.  We are eternally grateful to everyone who has donated, but I may end up doing something that I've been putting off for a while: allowing advertisements.  I want to do this so that we can continue to offer this for podcast for free, but hosting, staying up to date on sources, etc. does cost money.  I'm not looking to make a huge profit, but if we can at least get the podcast paying for itself, that would be a good start. Before I do that I'll look to find a way that we can get subscribers on Patreon and elsewhere ad-free copy.  I just need to figure that out, but once I do, I'll let you all know. So there you have it.  We aren't going to stop the podcast, but we may be adding a bit more to it in the future.  I hope, though, that we can do more beyond the historical chronicles.  For instance, did you know that we have an English translation of a 17th century cookbook up on our website, SengokuDaimyo.com?  I would love to redact those recipes and maybe provide some cooking videos for anyone who would want to try them.  A shoutout to Max Miller of Tasting History, who reached out to us about using a couple of our translations for his episodes on historical Japanese cooking – Max is a great guy and his series and cookbook are well worth following.  But there's a lot more to explore: one of my favorites so far that we've tried is "keiran", or "eggs": doughy balls filled with brown sugar and cooked in a miso based soup.  I don't know if there is anything like that still being served in Japan, but it's a strange and pleasant recipe and I would love to do that again and record it for everyone to try. All of this is in the works, and nothing will change immediately, but I wanted to keep you all in the loop.  Thank you so much for listening, I can't tell you how much it means. And of course, as always, if you like what we are doing, please tell your friends and feel free to rate us wherever you listen to podcasts.  If you feel the need to do more, and want to help us keep this going, we have information about how you can donate on Patreon or through our KoFi site, ko-fi.com/sengokudaimyo, or find the links over at our main website,  SengokuDaimyo.com/Podcast, where we will have some more discussion on topics from this episode. Also, feel free to reach out to our Sengoku Daimyo Facebook page.  You can also email us at the.sengoku.daimyo@gmail.com.  Thank you, also, to Ellen for their work editing the podcast. And that's all for now.  Thank you again, and I'll see you next episode on Sengoku Daimyo's Chronicles of Japan.