It's been almost two years since last time, meanwhile Bucharest got better at some points, and worse at others. Some parts look nice, restored and cleaned up, others are dirty and falling apart, with certain areas that fall just in between, like the one where I happen to stay. There is a seriously hideous building, sitting on the spot where there used to be an open air cinema. I feel like home...at home, in my old room, a yellow/green aquarium, as I cannot pull the curtains apart so the gypsies who are squatting across the fence won't see inside. Toshka, my young black cat is here, sleeping on my big red and dark blue suitcase, you'd say she never lived on another continent, in a different house. I didn't quite unpack as I am not too sure about the end of this road, or rather about the next destination.
My VIM (very important meeting) about a job ended up in the air, maybe there is something and maybe I'll hear about it in May, the earliest. There are no jobs, there are no money, only expectations and hopes, mostly followed by disillusionments. While waiting for my Romanian residence ID I'm trying to set up a presentation about my thesis research in Uruguay with their Embassy, I want to take one to one salsa classes with a cubano and most probably I will be in Barcelona/Valencia in May, seeing friends and joining a couple of poetry/spoken word nights with two Montréalers. Canada seen from here is almost exotic, and I'm quite surprised I don't miss it yet, maybe it's too early as I'm still enjoying the embrace of the familiar. My friends surprise me with nice messages inquiring about my arrival and my stay, I must confess they touch me deeply, as their care crosses the ocean and so many countries and reaches me hiding behind my laptop and the green curtains, hearing the spring birds chirping and enjoying the sight of the buds, as much as I can see through a narrow opening.
The magnolias and forsithya are in bloom and I'm absolutely thrilled by the small violet carpets in the nearby park - dark purple, lilac and white. Viola odorata, so delicate in shape, so strong in colour. Our street is quiet at night, and the soundproof windows are of great help. I feel quiet too, waiting but not breathless, enjoying the cultural life, staying with my family, meeting my lifelong friends, like Adriana, that I've known for 29 years and my new ones whose blogs I've been following. It's a real pleasure to recognize a person from their writing. I have a little time to sit and wait, do little things that I really want to do, that you never find time for. My man is also in a stand-by mood, wait and see, maybe we'll last, maybe we'll break, and there will be just you and me, again. Things can only get better, I say to myself.
