LONDON AT FIRST SIGHT

London is...Peter Pan, Mary Poppins, the Beatles, Shakespeare, the Thames, London Bridge, the Queen, the neo-Gothic Parliament, the Tube, Petula Clark singing "London is London". At least it was all this and much more in my mind before I got there. And obviously one week only allowed me to scratch the surface of this multi-layered metropole. Although in the end all big cities are somehow the same: multicultural financial, commercial and artistic hubs, filled with tourist traps and charming corners, packed with museums, immigrants, designer and souvenir shops...and amazing food from all over the world. I had a very weird feeling as many sights reminded me of North America, obviously it's Canada and the US that took after Britain, but it depends what you get to see first.

I could list a whole amount of things I wish I did when in London, like go out more at night, explore the immigrant neighbourhoods and the greener surroundings. On the other hand I did many other things that filled my heart with joy, especially that my partner in crime was my mom, to whom I promised this trip a long time ago.

Trafalgar Square

She studied English at the university, the Beatles are her favourite band, Shakespeare her favourite writer and her thesis dealt with science and pseudo-science in Chaucer's work. It was my dream to fulfill her dream and take this trip together. Turning 40 there felt like it was just the right time, 40 years also after she finished university. Not that she's satisfied now, I found out that Russia and the Red Sea corals and fish are still next on the list.


University mates, friends from Canada, Barcelona, a British ex-employer and a doctor friend from the cruiseships all live in this Babel Mecca now. Two of my Romanian friends there met me in Lisboa while travelling. So it was a great opportunity to see them all, catch up and eventually introducing them to each other, as three are Romanian single moms. Helping people becoming friends is one of my greatest joys. It all started with a college friend offering me accommodation responding to a Facebook announcement; last time we met at night on the street in Padova back in '99.

Saint James Park

Of course museums and luxurious beautiful shops like Fortnum&Mason are great sights, but somehow you can find similar ones in every other historical big city. If I was to make a top of the things I enjoyed most I would say theatre, the parks, the markets.






To me there's no theatre like the English theatre; lately I tend to favour more and more nature over buildings and I found the local markets to be lively and different, especially Camden Lock and Borough Market. I'm pretty sure I would have enjoyed the immigrant East and South areas but time was short and temptations plenty.

Borough Market

Camden Market

Plus, one of our best decisions was to visit Canterbury, host to the most important Anglican cathedral nd to Chaucer's colourful tales.

Whitstable

Whistable is a charming seaside town just half an hour away that was totally worth the detour even considering the sudden rain, that threw an amazing light over the sea. With all those North American reminiscences hitting every now and then, the lobster shack and the beach huts made me think of Cape Cod.

The green landscapes of Kent looked picture perfect, just like the charming XIX-early XX century looking shops, coffee shops and pubs. I felt respect for tradition and a certain way of doing things. People were mostly polite and cheerful, quite accommodating I would say.

English gastronomy may not be famous but I've discovered a whole variety of beers, great dairy products, cheeses like Stilton and Red Leicester and of course amazing oysters and real salmon, that I miss so much in Portugal where we only get some fake farm-raised Norwegian variety.

All together it was oh, so charming indeed! I'd definitely go back there for another round.

OPENNESS

One year after being removed under obscure circumstances from my position with the Romanian Cultural Institute, here I am, still in Lisboa, trying to get a life, out of bits and pieces. As always I am surrounded by   multicultural friends, my international life-saving angels, and I just moved into a small flat that I can pay doing a sales admin job for a huge IT company. First time that I live alone since I came back to Europe four years ago. Entertaining the sweet illusion of a possible love story is just the fluffy cream on top, but fluffy creams get spoiled so easily, out of carelessness, lack of attention, heat or cold, so I try to take it with a grain of salt. This is the advantage of getting older and supposedly wiser. 

So now I can look back at this time in my life that was 2013. Oh, boy! What a sysyphic year 2013 was! Although I took two amazing trips, to Israel/Palestinian Territories and Peru, a country I couldn't help but fall in love with. It was doubly rewarding as I went there to attend a wedding of a dear German friend from Canada and meet our Swedish and Brazilian friends, all together for the same celebration in Lima. Only my mom fell horribly sick and got into the hospital the very same day I was hiking in Machu Picchu. The day after I went walking for 24 kilometers looking for a couple of weavers villages, just to calm down, filling my lungs with pure air and invoking the spirits of the Andes to give me strength so I can send it all to her. When she came out I went to Bucharest for ten days to cheer her up, and it looked like I managed. 

By the end of March I got back to Lisboa and started trying to build up a life of my own in the Atlantic garden that's Portugal. Nine long months of moving houses and cherishing vain hopes, delaying my departure week after week and month after month. I spent four of them working in a wine shop, a great opportunity to meet tourists from all over the place, make new friends and learn many things about local wines and spirits, especially Porto and Madeira. I can't say it was easy and the schedule was kind of heavy too, but it allowed me to spend the summer here without spending all my savings. I also experienced dating some Portuguese men, all together just a waste of time, although they seemed good on paper, they had high expectations, little patience and consideration, so I just gave up on it.

In October another wedding brought me back to my beloved Barcelona, where I was received with open arms and started seriously thinking to move back there by the beginning of 2014. Back in Lisbon I suddenly started to have job interviews. I moved four houses in one month while waiting for answers, feeling like a gypsy with my boxes, suitcase and various bags, I still wonder how much can I endure before I break. And after about six weeks the miracle happened and I landed a my actual job, found an acceptable flat downtown, overlooking a garden, and met someone who thought I was special and was hoping to become the same for me. But this is an ongoing wobbly story, and I'm quite eager to see the outcome myself. The interesting part is that everything came towards me, without me looking into that specific direction.

And now I cannot say that 2013 lacked charm and the joy of life. Thanks to my relatives, my friends, complete strangers who treated me gently and offered me moments of happiness and trust in the human beings. Thanks to this sunny country and the Atlantic who offered me its cool waters to refresh my burning thoughts. Thanks to the beautiful city of Lisboa, its colourful houses, cobbled streets, old fashioned manners and old looking shops, charming grocery stores and delicious food. It's true that I feel more at ease now, more confident, but I enjoyed being here nevertheless even during those hardships. 

Day after day I learned to enjoy my walks to work, the lunch break reading or listening to music and eating an ice-cream in one of the most spectacular squares I've ever seen: Praça do Comercio.

Be thankful for the flowers, the sun, the people that smiled to me. I realised that the only thing that could make me unhappy is the uncertainty about tomorrow. But I always had food, a roof and warmth around me, plus a little extra for life's little pleasures. I basically didn't miss a thing. I learned to be less dependable on comfort, if I ever was. 

Be OPEN and willing to enjoy anything enjoyable, and things will come to you.

PERU - MINDBLOWING DIVERSITY AND HEARTMELTING HOSPITALITY (II Amazonia)

Between my arrival and the wedding I spent a few days, not enough, by far, in Iquitos and the selva amazonica. Just enough so I can get the taste of it, to miss it afterwards and long to go back. I picked Iquitos because of a Mario Vargas Llosa book I've read when I was a student: "Pantaleón y las visitadoras". Via Couchsurfing I got in touch with several possible hosts, finally one of them confirmed that he can receive me at his place. Another one said he can arrange for a less touristy stay in the selva, I imagined he would be my guide. That's all I had on the books when I got to the  small airport of the hot humid city of Iquitos, after an amazing plane ride, overlooking the most incredible mountainous landscapes, here there were snowy peaks getting through the clouds, there blue lakes among brownish green steep hills and valleys. Then we flew over the neverending Amazonian rainforest, like a sea of green, with rivers winding through it like roads in the fields. Actually the only way to reach Iquitos it's either by boat or by plane, the road won't take you that far, even to a city that's home to over 40,000 people. 

Outside a car waited for me with Ulises and David, most of the taxis though were moto rickshaws, traffic was crazy and the buses didn't have windows. I didn't understand what was going on until we got to Ulises' agency, Carrusel Tapira. Oops, instead of an independent tour I was to go on an organized one, which disappointed me really, but I didn't have much time to look for something else, and on the other hand they seemed to be really nice and knowledgeable, Ulises being the son of a Peruvian and a Brazilian from the other side of the Amazon, a true river creature. Besides, we were few, just three all together, with a Catalan and his Peruvian girlfriend. David got me a rickshaw to take me to my hosts and we agreed on leaving next morning. My Couchsurfing hosts, Pavel and Joanna, are two young Poles living in Iquitos, both kind, with beautiful smiles and amazing sparkling blue eyes. They have a small studio apartment, with cold water shower, a kitchenette and a half working fridge. After I invited them to a deliciously refreshing ceviche lunch accompanied by cocona fruit juice, they took me out to the Nanay river market, Bellavista. It was probably the most exotic I have ever seen so far, sporting grilled cayman and palm worms (suri), Amazonian chestnuts, unknown fish and fruits, turtle eggs and so on. I tasted the suri, it was somehow sweet, not unpleasant, but not fantastic either. The aguaje palm fruit is usually peeled and eaten with salt, or made into a refreshing juice. I also saw ubos and camu camu, besides the well know papaya and mangoes that smelled like heaven on earth.



We took a boat with a beautiful roof made of braided palm leaves to Padre Cocha, for a cool beer on a floating deck, where local were swimming sometimes fully dressed, I imagine it would keep your clothes cleaner a longer time.   







After a chocolate crepes dinner I left the next morning to my dream destination: la selva del Amazonas. Not on a raft like in Jules Verne's 800 lieues sur l'Amazone, but on a small passenger boat, with Ulises and my fellow travelers, Jordi from Catalunya and his Peruvian mountains lover, Denisse. After a couple of hours we arrived in a tiny place where Ulises went to buy food for our stay and we had to wait for the motorized canoe that was to take us to the lodge. While we were waiting I strolled through the quiet village, bought some aguajes  from a broad smile girl, some kind of corn cakes from a couple of schoolgirls and a few sapotes (a big sweet fruit with an orange pulp) to eat later. Being tall and Caucasian, with a Nikon in my hand and walking by myself, I couldn't do anything not to look exotic, so people looked at me with curiosity. It occurred to me that it would feel probably the same if I were in some remote Romanian village.    

The canoe came after about an hour or so and the seven of  us (Jordi, Denisse, Ulises, our cook, Delicia, her partner and handyman and their child) navigated for a while on the broad light brown Amazonas and then turned right on a smaller river that led us to the path heading to the lodge. We were handed botas de jebe/gum boots and went through mud, crossing some pools over shaking planks, under the amazingly high trees canopy, surrounded by the lush green forest and funny wild life sounds. The entrance to the clearing were stood our bungalows was framed by two majestic trees that I could only compare to a Gothic cathedral. The accommodation was not suited for the faint of heart and comfort lovers, there were two breezy typical huts, built on stilts to keep them above water and snakes, without electricity. Made of tree trunks, palm and banana leaves, a big open one was meant for eating and partying, the other, with full walls, for sleeping, cooking and a rainwater shower.

I spent there four exciting and at the same time quiet days, going to bed early and reading with the help of my pocket lamp, waking up within the first morning hours, trying to tell the different jungle sounds, birds, monkeys and God knows what else. Delicia honoured her name and prepared simple great food every single day, over a wood fire, from Amazonas sardines to sauteed noodles, even her rice was cooked to perfection. We had fresh fruit juices, sometimes from plants around the huts, like sugarcane and cocona.  



Raul took us around the surrounding selva, not too far in, during the say and during the night. It felt like walking in a strange cathedral, as the trees canopies were so high that they looked like massive pillars with huge roots sometimes, all surrounded by bush and entangled lianas. It made us feel small and fragile, exposed and vulnerable, but the guide's self assurance and calm helped us a good deal.




We discovered healing plants like the pichirina, good for the stomach, and monkey ladder (escalera de mono), good for sores and skin infections. We learned about parasite/strangler plants and admired their capacity to climb upon big trees up to the top in the search of light. Then we marveled at the many types of spiders and ants, the families of squirrel monkeys (saimiri type), the size of the snails or the enormous toads.

Probably the most impressive creatures were the tarantulas that didn't look that scary to me, but rather endearing, all fuzzy and rather quiet.

Advancing over water was a whole different story, especially through the flooded forest, four of us in one canoe, with the help of the machete. Quite spectacular and very Indiana Jones like.

And the amazement wouldn't stop here. We saw a beautiful boa strangling its prey, a vulnerable sloth (in Peru they call it pelejo), up in a tree. The sloths move very little and at a very slow pace because their diet made exclusively of leaves does not provide many nutrients, so they are "programmed" to spend very little energy. They are an easy prey for huge snakes then.

Apart from a small toucan we saw beautiful woven nests hanging from trees, belonging to colonies of oropendolas or paucars (yellow-rumped cacique), both sporting black and bright yellow colouring. Raul explained us that another feathered fellow, the cowbird, lays its eggs in the oropendolas nests, their chicks eating a harmful parasite fly and its larvae that would otherwise harm the host's chicks. A beautiful symbiosis example.

On the longest day we got to a hidden pond covered by huge Victoria Regia leaves (a type of waterlily), unfortunately only one of them was in bloom. Raul showed us how to fish by spear, another technique I saw only in Amazonia. On the way back we had to drag the boat through Raul's small village, Centro-America, set up by his grandfather,  to shorten the trip. One night we went searching for caimans and got caught by a tremendous rain (actually it was raining every single day, alternating with sun, and our clothes stayed kind of damp all the time). The night after Raul simply plunged his hands into the water, and after a short struggle he was holding a small caiman, we convinced him to throw it back in, he was thinking about taking it to the river next to the village. That simple. Those people lives look so adventurous to us, to them is just a hard daily routine, Raul had a scar on his face from a caiman's tail strike, the main danger when you try to catch one, he told us.

On the last day we paid a visit to Centro-America, tasted the local homemade alcohol, chuchurrin, and saw how people actually live, many times in houses that looked rather like verandas, with half built walls, cooking and sleeping in open spaces. It was also our only opportunity to see a dead piranha lying on a veranda. There were some small solar panels, rented by a company for an amount that  was ridiculous to us. They were enough to get a few hours of light at night time.  When the water floods the village during rain season, sometimes people have to look for shelter on the roofs. In 2012 the water flooded the living space and in Raul's bedroom they found catfish (doncella), boas and even electric eels. When we went there, beginning of February, there were hardly any ripe fruits, except lemons, and hundred lemons would just pay enough for them to get to Iquitos and back. Mangoes and papayas were not ripe yet. We understood that they actually live on a yucca, rice and fish diet most of the time, and cash is hard to get unless you work with tourists. Teachers at the local school only stay for a very short time before they return to the city.

So these few days were filled with teaching and learning, in many ways, sometimes just by looking around or observing people's attitude towards life. I never heard them complaining for instance, saying this is not the life they deserve. The lessons I learned are in Amazonia are, above all, to keep silent, to be patient and move in slow motion. It applies to observing wild life, but also to our everyday exchanges.

My peak moment was getting to swim in the actual Amazon, just meters away from gray and pink dolphins, they actually came closer as me and Jordi got into the water. It was more than I ever dared to dream. I would go back there any time, and I would chose to stay in the village, go to the natural park Pacaya Samiria or camping, not in a jungle freaking lodge!

Be careful what you wish for...

On the move...again, almost there, like a wave you see approaching knowing it will drag you away. I could stay indeed, I love Barcelona, I moved here because I wanted to, I made my choice out of all the cities in Europe, this part of the world that makes me feel I belong.

And still, when I found out at the end of July that I was offered my dream job in a city I am also very fond of I said YES without giving it a second thought. The second thoughts came afterwards and it wasn't easy not to change my mind. I actually did, every day, looking around me at this charming city so comfortably nested between the mountains and the sea and wondering why shall I exchange the good with the better. When I first heard that the organization I work for opened offices in Barcelona I wished I could get a job there, it was rather wishful thinking, as I was still in Canada at the time. Then, before leaving Montreal, I wrote to a public institution that was also on top of my interest list, I was offered an interview as soon as I got home, with no consequences, I thought.

Then I moved to the city of my Mediterranean dreams. After struggling, with dignity, for eight months in Barcelona, having some interesting interviews that ended up in nothing, I finally got one in the international organization I was interested in since 2008. And right after the last interview I left for another one with the person who interviewed me one year prior, this time it was a concrete proposition.

Surprisingly enough, back in Barcelona I got the first job I wished for, not exactly the position I would have liked, but it was still something incredible to me, to work in a palace in the middle of a pine and palm trees park, full of green parrots and with a few ponds for the comfort of the resident ducks. Spending my day in an international multilingual environment, very enriching, with nice people around, organizing every few months meetings with representatives from a whole range of countries and cultures, around a very ambitious and generous project. Like a fish in the water. Or a duck?

Then, boom! four months after I started working I even got to make a choice. I have a theory about contemporary stress and anxiety being generated in great part by the variety of choices, from yogurt to a suitable life partner. So here I was, trying to decide what's best for me: I love both cities, one is bathed by warm waters, the other by cold ones; in Barcelona I have some nice new friends, there I have guaranteed lifetime friends, that received me with open arms after 13 years of absence, a few handwritten letters, postcards and emails. The job, well, the other job, that I will take in January, is what I always wanted to do, organize and promote cultural events, so I could join my expertise to my private interests. A beautiful challenge...that after all I could not avoid, it's stronger than me, as usual. I love change and change stresses me, but I simply don't take comfort as the best thing I could have. And I have comfort in Barcelona, even more than the city I love its geographic position, the closeness to the Pyrenees, to France, the Mediterranean embrace that created the amazing landscapes of Costa Brava. I will miss my beach afternoons and twilight swims, the hikes, the possibility to get abroad in three hours by train (last Saturday I passed from Spain to France and from France to Spain once in train and three times on foot). Otherwise, as a city, my next destination has its own undeniable spells to cast.

I shall be very very careful from now on with what I wish, either I meet the little gold fish or not, he might be under disguise.

GENTLY SETTLING AND DRAWING LINES

A few months more since my last post and there are so many changes I contemplate now from a short time distance.

No. 1: I managed to get a stable job, after a one year not-easy-to-live-with gap. I work in a park inside of a palace, with a big window that lets in the sun, the chirping of the birds, the smell of resin in the heat. When I look outside I only see the various shades of green of the many types of pine trees trying to reach the sky. At lunch time I can have a half an hour break reading in the shade, eventually looking at the cotorras argentinas or the urracas. The ducklings I saw a few months ago swimming in the ponds and fountains are now as big as momma duck. My fellow workers are fun and kind, almost all of us get along nicely and I get to use almost all my languages on a daily basis. At the beginning of July I had to organize a reunion of about fifty government experts coming from 21 countries from Europe, North Africa and Middle East, everything went very smoothly and my department head thanked me in front of everyone at the end of the meeting. My writing skills were also put to work for the final public information text. So all together I feel useful and well treated. I was never extremely ambitious and the more I grow inside, the more I learn how to enjoy and be thankful for the good side of things in my life.

No. 2: My stand-by relationship got to a very inglorious cold end after my Cuban (future) ex paid me a one week visit enclosed in a six weeks trip to Spain. We started talking about marriage and a common future here and somehow on the way I realized that for one whole year I was floating in a beautiful and fragile soap bubble that suddenly broke and let me fall on the hard evidence that after all distance and time torn us apart. We were and we are very different, in terms of background and lifestyle, and this year our ways split to the point of no return. It was an emotional break for me, that I had to cope with after he left, that very moment was very short and I didn’t realize what was happening, that it was the last time we were seeing each other as a couple. When I left Canada and we said good-bye in the airport, there was sudden pain and many doubts about doing the right thing or not. It was a separation between two people that were in love and shared a home. It still hurts to know that the three years we were together and the one year of waiting and hoping were reduced merely to memories in no time. But at least I know there is no other way, it was a fine, sharp and clean cut, I can almost imagine a steel blade, guillotine style that suddenly falls and leaves no shreds.

No. 3: I managed to move from my cage aux folles, the Romanian run home, crowded and filled with cigarette smoke and too many times with strong cooking smells. My room was nice though and they were good people, but living in a different bubble. Now I stay in the same Sagrada Familia neighbourhood, on a street that bears the name of one of my favourite cities and above my tree level balcony there’s a blue metal plate that reads “La Ciudad de Buenos Aires”. I share with a nice Catalan girl who’s almost like a younger sister to me, and her dog, Ganja, a lovely half-blind and extremely affectionate cocker. The sitting room is big enough to be able to invite people for dinner again. When I wake up in the morning and I open my door, instead of cigarette smoke there’s Ganja happily wagging her piece of tail waiting to be cuddled.

No. 4: Last but not least, I managed to start moving around (one of the main reasons for coming back to mother Europe) and go visit friends in Lisbon and Toulouse that I have not seen for 13 and 15 years respectively. I was received with the utmost generosity, more like a long lost parent than like a friend that’s been away. Their home was my home and I was moved to tears to find out once more that friendship after all is probably the most beautiful and deep thing in my life.

Lisbon was celebrating the national day and Santo Antonio, the streets were blooming with colourful decorations and the smell of grilled sardines filled the hot air. On Saturday night I went alone to a fado concert set inside the Sao Jorge castle on the hill, overlooking the Tejo estuary under the stars. Besides, the city is as beautiful as ever and I got to visit other spots in this small and charming country by the ocean: Alcochete, Montemor-o-Novo, Evora, Cabo da Roca. Fabulous blue, green and pink (roofs) landscapes, great food, not to mention the company…so I’m going back in August, to spend more time with my Portuguese soul sisters and keep discovering the Lusitanian hidden treasures.

Toulouse, la ville rose aux bords de la Garonne, en plein Midi, with amazing Gothic buildings still standing up, especially le Monastère des Jacobins (I have a special weakness for cloisters) and the scrumptious French desserts. Not far, on the shores of the Tarn, there's Albi, home of Toulouse-Lautrec, dominated by its high episcopal palace and the Ste. Cecile cathedral, masterpieces of pink brick Gothic, so far from the cold gray stones that usually served as building material.

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I am at a point in life where I dreamed and wanted to be ten years ago, is it still the same, am I able to enjoy it and appreciate as much as I would have then? I won some things and lost some things on the way, I’m a little stronger, a little emptier, a little wiser and even bitterer and less ready to believe in the beauty of things and expect the unexpected. But the sense of balance is here; my life is in Barcelona now. Although, after changing places quite a few times, I know nothing, no one and nowhere is for life, there´s no real security in anything, and that’s probably close to the Buddhist teachings about accepting change and transiency as unavoidable. I feel peace, there's only love missing.

The in-between

I am kind of settled now in an intermediate state, about three months after landing again in the land of unaccomplished promises, so full of resources and resourceful people, seemingly unable to stop going from bad to worse. I wonder how much is this the fault of our inability to get rid of Ceausescu's camarilla, the very same people that took him down so they can get more comfortable contemporary design armchairs under their butts. After all the two parties that are now disputing the power: PD-L and PSD derived both from the National Salvation Front, to me it looks like a two- headed dragon. We have no real civil society to stand-up against them, our intellectual like their own comfort more than anything, and even if they chose the hard way, who would join them?

Of course I am glad to see the positive changes, a cleaner, cuter city, more flowers in public areas, nicer taxi drivers and sales people in small shops and fruit/veggies stands. As for the restaurant services, they are as lousy as ever, the waiters don't seem to know what the word service means. There are some recycling procedures in place, but not everywhere, in my area for instance I saw just a few very small containers and the population couldn't care less about it. There are cycling lanes in some places, but few people respect them. In general there is a carelessness about what goes on out of the someone's personal area, no awareness of the public space and goods. The roads are terrible, including the sidewalks, some places seem to have been bombed recently, there are streets full of sand since I came, but for sure one of the reasons is that nobody complains, nor tries to find out what's going on. Romanians are used to be disconsidered and treated like shit and they respond in the same manner.

My trip to Spain was really pleasant, seeing ancient comrades from the cruise-ships times and two of the women poets I met in la Sierra Mixteca in 2007. I liked Madrid, but I didn't have a crush on it, Valencia impressed me more with its variety of life stages: old city, beach, the ancient river bed that became a park and the airy City of Arts and Sciences by the one and only Santiago Calatrava. I think I got a better, more balanced idea of Barcelona, with its good and bad sides. I would definitely like to live there, assuming all the unavoidable risks. Sheri-D and Éliz enlightened my stay bringing it a new multicultural dimension, beyond the poetry that brought us together. Canada, what I learned and what I lived there, will always be from now on part of what I am. The Great North and the Inuit culture still make me feel regretful for not making it up there.

Right now I consider trying my luck in Catalunya, I just applied for a PhD and already got a one-way ticket. I have no clue about what's in store for me, I am taking it one day at a time, cleaning the old house of the lot of crap that got accumulated here over the years, by four generations. Sometimes the sadness paralyzes me, I cry and I despair, I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel, I miss my dear departed ones and I feel lonely like a street dog on an empty alley at night. But it is a mandatory period, in a waiting room, I needed to stay home for a while, spend time with my family and friends and figure out things. After so many years living and working with people from different countries I feel estranged in Bucharest, I have to be in a city of more cities.

Home strange home

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.

The doll I got when I was 33

Pedro re-signified it, Adrian reinterpreted it. I admire her, would she like to play with me?

JUNE 27 - A MIDSUMMER LONG WEEK-END'S DREAM

961 days ago

About beauties of Québec - also known as La Belle Province. I discovered another charming corner this 3 days week-end. In the Eastern Townships, nature unfolds its overwhelming beauty: forests, lakes, mountains, all glorified by the bright summer sun.

Some great friends, beautiful and talented sisters Vania and Carina, invited all their comrades to celebrate the Summer Solstice at their cottage, in the middle of an untrimmed meadow, where grass and flowers grow up to the waist and fully flavored juicy wild strawberries invite you to kneel and pick them.

Sometimes I had the impression of wandering in a field Monet painted, preceded by the bright long hair of Vania and Carina floating over the grass and crowned by huge straw hats. Or talking to a portrait painted by Gainsborough.

The gang was fantastic, like a changing puzzle, people coming and going, a few musicians, who played guitar and sang, one was composing a different song every day, claiming it to be a "classic".

We swam in the lake every day (a bit chilly on Friday), took posession of a diving boat anchored close enough, turned its radio on and lied on the deck under a bright sun. The Memphrémagog lake is deep, clean, and it stretches down to the US, surrounded by thick forests. The Owl's Head mountain peak looks above it.

I had my two breakfasts on the deck overlooking the meadow, sun shining and birds chirping. Every evening there was a barbecue, and everybody was sitting around the big table, having a feast, eating from Wedgwood vintage china. Saturday night we went out to see the stars and watch the brief glimpses of the fireflies crossing in the dark.

Behind the house there's a forest, a creek runs through it, ending up in a pond. I saw footprints of deer and racoon on the bank. I sit there Sunday morning, on the moss under the trees, reading poems by Ungaretti in a loud voice, accompanied by the birds and sound of the water caressing the stones. Also had a romantic interlude there on Sunday afternoon, kissing someone I just met, the ambiance was very inviting.

Who could ask for more? You tell me.

MAY 10 - NEW YORK PART II

1008 days ago

FRIDAY We (Richard and Lucia, my Montréal friends) left by car around 5:30a.m. Montréal and got to New York, via Washington Bridge/Harlem around 11. Stopped at the Belleclaire in Central Park West at 11:30, where my friends were supposed to be, but their impatience chased them out of the hotel already by that time – I was supposed to call by 11, I showed up at 11:30. Kind of disappointing, as my main purpose this week-end in Big Apple was to see my super-friend from Romania – Ioana. We have known each other, with ups and downs, for 12 years now.

Anyway, we headed down to the 57th East, where we were generously hosted by a friend from Spain who rented an apartment for a week, being there for an environmental international conference. Meeting him was another highlight of my trip as Europe is not quite next door.

The apartment smelled like mould a little and it was kind of dark and noisy. Very nicely furnished and spacious though, in the heart of Midtown. We communicated with K., our host, via SMS and decided we’ll meet in the evening. Meanwhile I had to see another friend, who writes beautiful poems and lives in Atlantic City. He basically came for the day so we can spend some time together. So we did. After walking with Richard and Lucia to Empire State Building I headed back to Central Station. After a few talks on the phone, as miscommunication made us wait at 2 different spots, I managed to meet Terrence!

Then it was the nice part – walking through Central Park up to the 89th, where the Guggenheim is. Flowers everywhere, many shades of purple, and just like Bambi (who remembers the Disney classics?) or the little bull Ferdinand I would stop at each and everyone and deeply inspire their sweet fragrance. I have a weakness for wisteria, with their amazingly rich grapes of flowers. Being a Montréaler now, who has to wait indefinitely for spring and long for leaves and flowers I am mesmerized when nature is blooming. Plus, Central Park is one of the most beautiful I’ve ever seen, quite wild, with hills and lakes, and swans and ducks, small kitsch (nice looking castles. In May – it’s a poem.

Guggenheim didn’t have a exhibition to match my taste, but the architecture, creation of world famous Frank Lloyd Wright is amazing. The gallery rounds up to the dome in a spiral, with objects exposed around it and a few back rooms. Like climbing inside of a white, luminous shell. My beloved contemporary Italian Francesco Clemente was not there, although the paintings on the Internet are said to be part of the collection.

I finally got hold of my friend Ioana at the hotel, after a few unsuccessful calls, and decided we’ll pick them up and join K. at the apartment for dinner. Well, New York is much bigger than its maps show. So after a day march we made it at the apartment around 9. I felt so bad because I made all these innocent people run so I can have everyone around me at the same time. Like K. most righteously observed, this circle of friends made sense only to me, not to them.

Dinner was good, somewhere down on the 2nd Street, in an average Italian restaurant. At least we sat outside. Terrence had to leave right afterwards to reach his hotel all the way South, close to the Port. It was great meeting him, he’s kind of opposite to me, very calm, low key voice, and I’m so agitated it feels good to be around tranquil people. He’s also sensitive, this allowing him a deep perception of the world. We exchanged a lot those few hours, but I wish there was more time and less rush.

The four of us left (Richard and Lucia went to a Mozart concert) had a drink for Mexico’s national day – 5 de Mayo. Our Margarita’s were not that great, but we took some photos with “sombreros” that will make a great souvenir.

SATURDAY In the morning – actually around noon, we (Lucia, Richard, Ioana and her hubby Alex) got to the Cloisters, pieces of ruined abbeys and churches in Spain and France that were transported and restored stone by stone in a medieval museum complex, north of Fort Tyron park, which has amazing views over the Houston river and its opposite side green cliff.

I am very fond of cloisters in general, since I traveled to Portugal and Italy. Inside quiet gardens, surrounded by gracious Romanic or Gothic colonnade galleries. These ones were covered by flowers and all type of plants monks used for medical and aesthetic purposes. Plants you would find in the background of tapestries also. I understood later that the function of those was not only decorative, but also practical, to protect the inhabitants of imposing stone castles from the cold coming from the walls. And some plants that fill them had a spiritual meaning (Our Lady’s Mantle, pomegranate tree). I really loved the Unicorn Hunt tapestries I saw there, ad they reminded me of those I saw in Paris, at Cluny, amongst the most refined and beautiful in the world: La Dame à la Licorne.

So I left the Cloisters quite reluctantly and went down to the MET (famous Metropolitan Museum of Art, which I saw last December, obviously not completely). There I was supposed to meet Lucia and Richard, who went earlier to the Austrian and German Art Museum – Neue Galerie. To my regret I found out only later it hosts paintings by Klimt, Schiele (whose reproductions adorn my bedroom) and Kokoschka. Ioana and Alex headed to the Guggenheim. I tried to call everyone; K. said he’ll wait for me at the apartment, Lucia had her cell turned off, Michael, my jazz musician adoptive New-Yorker friend too. So I didn’t wait for more than 10 minutes for Richard and Lucia and left shamelessly, waited long for the bus, got to the apartment and, after an hour preparation, around 6 me and K were ready to go for a stroll around the City Hall. I discovered to my delight the neo-Gothic Woolworth skyscraper, which was built in 1929, I guess. Mosaic golden vaults in the entrance atrium, and gargoyles showing the architect with the building model and Mr. Woolworth himself counting money It was forbidden going in, I half ignored it as I went past the first door and stuck my nose against the window of the second. Same thing with the Court, no access allowed on the stairs, I only climbed them to peer inside looking for the glasswork of Tiffany, unsuccessfully.

Next stop was China Town for dinner – fish with bitter melon for me and lacquered duck for K. Tasty and quick to come. Yum!

Then we met Richard and Lucia, we mixed up again the meeting point with Ioana and Alex, and we all went to the Brooklyn Museum, which is free of charge every first Saturday of the month and open until 11p.m. As usual now, the main purpose was to meet also Michael, the jazz composer and bass player. Very briefly, as he decided to run home and come back upon closing time. The museum was interesting; I only looked briefly at the Art of the Americas section (many artifacts from Canada nativesJ

There was a big party in an exhibition room, close to Corot and other masters’ paintings. Techno music. Being tired, we dropped it and just went for a tour of the 5th floor exposing American art related to the US identity. Preceded by a large hall filled with Rodin sculptures. Everybody was exhausted, but upon Michael's advice we still went looking for a bar in the West Village, around Cristopher Street. Ended up in a lounge: Sushi Samba, that looked very fashionable. Loud electro music again, I had a decent Mojito, but I couldn't find the lychees they were supposed to add. We left about 2AM I guess, as I managed to turn off the light at 3.

SUNDAY - Not much to say. I woke up at 9, full of energy, but I waited until everyone else started moving (K, Lucia and Richard). Called Ioana at the hotel, my cousin in Queens, we managed to meet around 12, then Lucia, Richard, me and cousin Nick went to look for the car and joined the others for brunch on a sunny terrace, on the 2nd street with 77th, at Lenny's. In felt so sorry I had to leave, felt perfectly happy there, hardly discovering a shimmering Big Apple under a generous sun, all adorned by spring. I had the same horrible sensation that I used to have leaving Italy or Paris to come back to Romania. As if I was losing a part of me. I almost bursted into tears. Still managed to have a very deep intimate talk with my friend K, who's flying tomorrow back to Barcelona. Like in "Casablanca", quoted in "Black Cat, White Cat" by Kusturica: "This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship".

I liked New York much more this time, like I'm so eager to go there again. I didn't do many things I wanted to: jazz concert, off Broadway theater, Greenwich village, Asian section of the MET...so many reasons to go back

The landscapes of the Adirondacks mountains' park on the way back were simply gorgeous. I still felt bad Monday. A stranger more than ever. Like there's nothing left to discover here.

Now I went back to normal. For a while. Normal Anto is not normal.

MAY 4, 06 - NEW YORK AGAIN

1014 days ago

I got a day off from work (only three weeks ago we had 4 days, and 3 more are coming in 3 weeks time). I'm supposed to meet some friends in the Big Apple. A couple from Romania, one from Spain, another one from US (Atlantic City), my cousin...maybe my old ship time musician friend Michael.

I'm so lucky they gave me this day off at work! Actually the ambiance is great, everybody's nice and smiling, relaxed.

Will write more when back.

APRIL 23, 06 - MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING

1025 days ago

Easter came and go.

Headache...a bit too much wine today and too much food too. Ran around like a headless chicken yesterday to get some decent piece of lamb, found the last ones (package of organs and leg) for the "terrine" we call "drob" and the roast. And the spinach and filopastry for the family special pie, bread, radish, green onion, eggs and dye...

What for? I did almost all shopping, cooked, washed dishes. For 4, which is not much, and we shared costs. I feel frustrated on one hand, I wished someone really helped me (a friend came last night, but far too late and forgot today she said she will do the dishes). On the other hand, I wanted to cook for Easter, to have people around, and I had it my way. Nobody asked for it, after all. I did it to myself. And all the beautiful evenings of the week I was home cleaning or washing so I can dedicate my week-end to Easter shopping and cooking.

Never again with Romanians though...there is a lack of seriousness I can't ignore. We had a good time, the food came up right, I got an Italian Sangiovese of Toscana Marchesi di Frescobaldi quite remarcable, but it's too much. I wish I had an extra day off.

The church episode was very short and somehow I didn't feel it too deeply.

So life goes on, I can't wait to go see on Wednesday "Projet Andersen" at the Théâtre du Nouveau Monde.

I also have to check my ankle, as I have a swallowing that might be filled with liquid and stayed there for quite a while.

Right now - sleeping time

APRIL 17, 06 - ITALY, THAT'S AMORE

1031 days ago

Had such a nice time this Easter holiday.

Friday - The Via Crucis (Way of the Cross?) with a Catholic worldwide association - Communion and Liberation, founded by an Italian, Don Giussani. Then a trip to a "sugar shack" (traditional Québec food and music, in a wooden house in the forest, where they gather the maple syrup). All in the sun, very enjoyable.

Saturday - there was a ceremony at my church, there were around 10 Romanian priests, all dressed up and the Bishop came, all the way from the USA. He was greeted by some four people dressed traditionally, carying bread and salt, according to the customs. Simply beautiful. Then a short trip on some mountain - St. Hilaire, nearby Montréal. Under a small rain, but still great to spend time outside and breath fresh air, enjoy the landscape, the village alond the Richelieu river. The company was also awsome, all Romanians, 3 girls and 2 guys. One of the guys invited us all for dinner and cooked - so nice of him. We might become closer friends quite soon, I'm not hurrying anywhere though. I'm glad we have a lot in common, but I prefer to take my time.

For the rest of the night I went home with my great friend Saj (Sajani) who lives in Cambridge now and was just visiting. We spent time talking and watching my photos. I realized once again how much I missed her and what a great time we have together.

Sunday - had breakfast and lunch with Saj, then met up for coffee with my friend Marcela from Argentina and her friends. One absolutely gorgeous, stunning. But I would doubt we have much in common. A bit too main stream, I guess. For dinner I met my Italian speaking friends Patrizia and Valérie and we joined again the Communion and Liberation for a great potluck, that ended with songs and merriment. It was a great occasion to meet also my Italian friends, mostly from Milano, who introduced me to the group. Before going home I passed by my new Romanian friend's house and we watched "Mystery Train" by Jim Jarmush together, then he took me home (what did you imagine?).

And tonight I had the pleasure to go to the Marco Calliari concert "Al dente". His parents are from Northern Italy and he's playing mostly Neapolitan music. Bellissimo! Very positive and energetic. So I'm in a great mood!

MARCH 29 - CRAZY TIRED

1050 days ago

I didn't get into a get-to-bed-at-a-proper-time routine yet, so waking up every morning and dragging myself to work (it takes 20 minutes now that I'm downtown, one bus only!)

Plus - had a friend (female:) over for a movie and dinner Monday; Tuesday movie again - utterly funny and smart TRISTRAM SHANDY A COCK AND BULL STORY by Michael Winterbottom - and dinner with my friend Andrea that's leaving for France and Sam from India, in a great cheap Indian restaurant, had vegetarian thali; Wednesday had my French pupil over for an hour than ran to a friend's place for tea and chat. Judith is amazingly gifted, originally in financial management and paiting, she's now preparing her own beauty products and does pedicure. I'll try to help her with some selling text ideas.

Tomorrow - Jiri Kylian choreography for Grands Ballets Canadiens. A friend lost his father and Friday evening I'll have to go quite far to see him at the chappel.

Saturday I don't want to stay up late, I danced enough on tables at Café Sarajevo the one before.

MARCH 10 - FRIENDS MATTER

1070 days ago

The few encouraging messages I got were like a balm, I'm sure positive energy helps. Even if sent over the Big Sea.

TODAY - JANUARY 10

1128 days ago

One of the few days in my life when I didn't set foot out. I spent my day on the computer, looking through job offers, chating to my brother and my mum. I cleaned a bit around the house too, had a late breakfast around 11:00 and a big salad at 5pm.

My habits have changed completely and not for better. I'm wasting too much time and I should find reasons to go out. Monday I just paid a visit to my Lebanese friend Gazou and Anne Sophie, who's a young American diplomat, joined for a girls' chat. Had some Havana Club rum Gazou brought from her Xmas trip to Cuba.

Tonight my Haitian upstairs neighbour visited me - Patricia. It was the first time, before we just had brief encounters. She has a Master Degree in Communication from here and it didn't help her much.

I'm thinking more and more to work for a NGO, as communication doesn't give many opportunities to foreigners to enter the work market.

Tomorrow I'm going to see the photographer who took my retro pictures, I'm looking forward to it.

Talking about pomegranates last night with Anne Sophie, she mentioned this was the fruit Hades gave to Persephone to get her to stay in the Underworld. I had completely forgot about it.

PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 26 - 28, 2005

1130 days ago

When I got to the Philly Central Station, Cristina was not there. I wanted to call - surprise!, local calls were 50 cents. She told me she'll show up in 10 minutes. We were both very excited, after such a long correspondance and mutual understanding, but out of sight for maybe more than 10 years. She kept on inviting me, even her husband wrote me a couple of times.

And there she was, didn't change a bit, maybe assuming herself more, knowing who she is, more feminine and cheerful than when we were 18. I guess the same can be said about me. We care less about what people think or say.

We dropped the luggage home - that looks quite nice, with a big terrace overlooking the city center sky scrapers. I met her in-laws, that drove backt to New York and the bull-terrier Idefix (the dog in the Asterix cartoons) and then we went for a walk. Many nice old buildings, two rivers (Delaware and another one with an impossible name), the residence of Benjamin Franklin, the place where the declaration of independence was signed. The City hall was really impressive. I liked the Old City and the dynamic South Street, the mosaics and mural art. It looked like a fine city to me. We went grocery shopping and I had a fine tuna steak, her and David finished the roastbeef which I was sure of to be delicious, but my eating habits changed dramatically about 10 years ago, excluding meat (with few exceptions, like being courteous, when I don't want to embarass people).

We were looking for something to do Tuesday evening, like jazz, I was very disappointed about my quiet evenings in New York, but the first days of the week are not the best. On Monday night we watched "Melinda&Melinda" by Woody Allen. Not too bad but not as good as his masterpieces I would say.

On Tuesday we went to the Art Museum, a gorgeous imitation of a Greek temple, dominating the city on top of a large stairway.

There was a gorgeous sunny day and the museum was fantastic. My crave for Dutch landscapes was fulfilled by the Ruisdael exhibition, even the sea sights were there. Again Middle Age and Impressionists, but this time I got to visit the Asian art section: India, China, Japan, some items from Persia too. There were two special exhibitions too: Northern Indian drawings illustrating Ramayana and Bhagavad Gita (part of Mahabharata) and monsters and devils from Nepal and Tibet. So many beautiful, gracious, delicate objects. I would drown into the beauty, history, creativity of that continent. Again, there was a whole ambiance, a room from one Indian temple, a Chinese palace, a Japanese Buddhist altar and tea houses.

In the evening we went for Malaysian food, one type I never had before, in Chinatown. Chinese, Thai and Indian influences. The result was as full of flavours and spices as I like food to be. We spent the evening home checking things on Internet, looking through Cristina's books and ended up with "Millions" - a very good Christmas bittersweet English comedy.

Wednesday was picture time day, a few murals, some parts of the city I haven't seen, Cris got me a Bulgari "Blù Notte" for Xmas and I found the "Invisible Cities" by Italo Calvino for her (one of my big favourites). Accidentally we discovered also the English version of "Nostalgia" by contemporary Romanian author Mircea Cartarescu. He's very fashionable right now. Postmodernist. I like him a lot, but not all his work. Very pleasant lunch in a small Italian café - Hausbrandt, kept by two Milanesi: Max and Nicoletta. Had a panino with prosciutto di Parma and mozzarella and capuccino - delicious!

Then, alas, it was time to take the flight (courtesy of David) back to Montreal. The airport clerk was Romanian Andrei Smilovici. After a few days at about 10C, I landed in the snow again. I spent one night home, 24 hours after I was on my way for one week at Ste Agathe des Monts with a Romanian gang.

NEW YORK, DECEMBER 23-25 2005

1131 days ago

On Friday morning I talked to my Swedish (half Hungarian, half Finnish friend Veronika. We first met in spring 96 (or autumn 95). She was working for the European Center for Roma Rights in Budapest and I was doing my graduation work about the Roma (gypsies) image in the press. We met a few times more, up to the summer of 98 when she hosted me in Budapest for a couple of days. I met then her boyfriend Jim Goldston, now her husband, a real New-Yorker - lawyer working for the Soros Foundation. Today in Colombia, tomorrow in Africa. Tough life.

When I was on the ships I got one of those collective e-mails saying Veronika moved to New York and works for the Human Rights Watch. I looked her up the Internet, she still works there. So I wrote to her to that e-mail address and MIRACLE! after that many (5-6?) years without any news, we were back in touch.

We arranged to meet at the Scandinavian house. She's still tall and slim and pretty as always, didn't change a bit. Unfortunately I didn't have my camera so no pics She has a baby too, will have to see him live next time. They live in Brooklyn, close to my friend Michael. Agreed to meet again, either New York or Montréal. World feels so small sometimes. Or we meet again when we are meant to.

I went to the Penn(sylvania)station afterwards to get my ticket to Philly. It got a lot warmer outside so I went to Sears to buy myself some short socks and a belt as I had forgotten mine in Mtl (found a nice braided one The Central Station is also beautiful - a huge lobby with a blue ceiling with the Zodiac signs.

I spent my afternoon at the Museum of Modern Art (MOMA), it is free on Friday afternoon. The line was loooooooong, but to my surprise it didn't take longer than 35 minutes. I had three hours there. More 19th and 20th century masters. Had an opportunity to see some Jason Pollock, an American famous modern painter. Not impressed with his stains. Like I'm not into the dark cubist period of Picasso and Braque. Much happier to see Modigliani. And an exhibition of feeric drawings and book illustrations of Odilon Redon - a dreamlike world, very romantic and troubled.

I was disappointed though by the absence of Francesco Clemente, a contemporary Italian that was supposed to be there, apparently not all works in the collection are exhibited. I simply love his work and I only saw albums and a small exbition in Naples, Italy, his city of origin.

I felt pain to see the works of Brancusi (Romanian sculptor that emigrated to France and knew Rodin), I even cried. His work was abstract but he took inspiration from traditional forms of art, his Romanian origins playing a great part in it. Under his name it reads "French, born in Romania". WHAT A SHAME!

I finished the evening going to see a friend of my cousin - Nicoleta, to pick up the "cozonac" (traditional Romanian Christmas cake, similar to brioche and panettone). I spent about two hours with her - a nice smart girl (Girl? She's probably slightly older than me, and I'm 31! I guess as I'm not married I lost track of time

On the 24th I just went with my cousin on the 5th Avenue up to the entrance of Central Park - the Time Warner building - took a lot of photos that are still in his computer or camera, I'm waiting for them. We spent a very simple quiet evening, no Xmas tree. Cooked some shrimps with rosé wine and olive oil. Then "cozonac", the traditional Xmas cake. He cooked his sausages, some stuffed mushrooms and we talked as usual. It felt good being with somebody from my family even if we didn't know each other from before. We had good talks and laughs and he did his best for me to have a good time.

On the 25 I went to the St. Nicholas Romanian church and I was back in time for lunch with a Romanian older, very nice couple. We were 8plus one kid. I felt good, like real Xmas time. In the evening we visited Nicoleta, the girl I met two days before. There was another friend of my cousin too, quite young. Very animated discussions, contradictory, but fun after all. The morning after I left for Philadelphia, a bit regretfully, I was getting along fine with Nicu. I wish I could do something for him

NEW YORK - DAY 3, VAN GOGH AND MORE - DECEMBER 22, 05

1133 days ago

My cousin wanted also to see the Van Gogh drawings exhibition at the Met. As I managed to see only part of the ground floor on Wednesday we went back to the museum. No bridge crossing on foot, as we managed to get in the car of a Colombian guy looking for the extra 3 passengers. At the museum we met Jane - a Jewish Tibetan Buddhist friend of his, a really lovely lady actually. As we were carrying food with us (the Museum cafeteria wasn't cheap at all) we got stopped at security and had to get permission from the supervisor to check it in. I managed to keep the chocolate and juice though.

I was there from about 11:30 up to 5:15pm. We started off with the Fra Angelico exhibition, works from the whole period of his life, gathered from all around the world. Once again I realized an exhibition is the best way to have a global view of an artist's evolution. If not, you see 5 paintings here, and 3 there five years later. Plus there were works by Benozzo Gozzoli and a few other painters for us to see the environment and the followers. I knew Michelangelo admired Fra Angelico a lot.

We followed with Van Gogh, first with Ruisdael, Hokusai, Millet and other artists that influenced his style. Then on to the drawings, following all his steps, from the times when he started, while a minister in a mining town in Belgium, until the very end, in the asylum. Dark, tired workers, colourful boats and fields, starry nights and the view from the hospital, its corridors...so painful. Van Gogh is my favourite painter since I was 20 and he still is. I am a very tormented person, with lots of ups and downs, jumping from enthusiasm to apathy and depression. I FEEL his paintings inside, his look for the inside light that never turns off.

A brief respiro occasioned by a fashion exhibition, the outfits of some rich new-yorker, that could afford vintage Indian and Afghan jewelry and clothes Lacroix, Chanel, YSL and the kind. She liked colourful ethno clothing, which I prefer too.

I wanted to show my cousin the exhibition about medicine in ancient Egypt and I met my Hindu friend B. exactly in the same spot like the day before. We agreed to meet upon museum's closing time and go for another coffee.

We had a snack on a museum's bench then Nicu and Jane decided to go. Jane gave me her phone number, for when I might be back.

I wanted to go see the Modern section and maybe Asian, if time allowed. First I dropped by the Dutch painters (I call them "painters of light" as none is as good ad they are at it). There were not as many landscapes as I expected, but a lot of Rembrandt and some Vermeer, one featured in the "Girl with the Pearl Earring". Of course all tourists were taking pictures of this one

So there I was, not alone, but surrounded by my old friends Rodin, Renoir, more Van Gogh (bought a poster of a simply stunning sunflowers image), Degas, Monet, Cezanne. I was roaming through the rooms, feeling I cannot get enough of it, going back to see them once more (a young lady in blue by Renoir, the Van Gogh) Downstairs I bumped into one of my Dali favourites: The Hypercube, featured even on this very site. Unexpected encounter, I was so happy about it. Some Picasso's too from his early times, Joan Miro.

The Asian section was closed for whatever reason and time was running short anyway. I met B. and we went to a Starbucks in the West Side of Central Park. I had an Eggnogg (Hen Milk in French and Romanian) then said good bye to my new friend and headed towards South to meet my cousin.

His girlfriend showed up (curious about the mysterious female cousin visitor - a pretty tall American with a Polish background - blond long hair and blue eyes. We felt like having a drink so we went for a Pomegranate (her) and Hibiscus (me) Margaritas at Rosa Mexicano, across from the Metropolitan Opera House. She's a resident doctor, to become a surgeon in Morristown, New Jersey.

My cousin wanted to go back to her place as it was dark, the Margarita was strong and she wears glasses. So I ended up on a sofa this time, to make a difference to the air beds that hosted me at my cousin's place and Michael's. We took the train back to NY in the morning, and there was no more strike.

DECEMBER 19 -21, 05 - NEW YORK - SEEING FRIENDS, TRANSPORTATION STRIKE, MUSEUMS, IMMIGRANT CHRISTMAS

1133 days ago

So, The Big Apple from the evening of December 19 up to the morning of December 21.

The trip by train was loooooong, late for about 1 and half hours. My doctor cousin works 3 evenings a week as a waiter (being there ilegally since 97), so as I arrived I had to go and pick him up in Queens. The subway is dirty and stinky. The restaurant where he works is close to the river, right across from Manhattan and looks decent.

His place is the same, only he shares a one bedroom apartment with another Romanian guy which proved to be not very social and well behaved. The windows shown a beautiful view of Midtown Manhattan, with all the striking towers like Empire State Building and Chrysler (my favourite).

The day after we found out the public transportation strike has been declared. As it takes one bus and 2 subways to go to Manhattan from his place I wasn't very happy about it. The bridges over Hudson are quite long and Queens is not the best place to walk around, especially in the dark.

After talking to my good friend Michael (jazz bass player and composer, originally from Vancouver, living in New York and married last year), he came to pick me up and we went to Brooklyn. I met his lovely wife: Celena, she's Cuban and a lawyer, with a scenographer past. I liked her from the very first moment, same for their pug dog - Cosmo.

I also liked Brooklyn, they live in Prospect Heights, close to Park Slope (I was to find out another long term friend I have lives there). We had lunch in a Japanese restaurant in Crown Heights, a Jamaican neighbourhood. The guys there looked really cool, some even had dreadlocks. Food was great, no sushi though There's more about Japanese cuisine.

We took Cosmo for a long walk so I can have an idea about the place. I really liked the Tea Lounge (there's more than tea and jazz concerts, a really pretty cozy place) and the Venetian looking building where Michael and Selena celebrated their wedding. Lots of houses looked old, probably turn of the century with stairs at the entrance, painted ceilings and antique furniture. We also stopped by a real estate agency window and I could see prices range from $700 to 1 million. We passed the Public Library, a great park, walked on the 7th Avenue, packed with bars, boutiques and restaurants. All together I liked the feeling around there. We had some wine and cheese home - reminder of our great ones under the stars on the deck of the cruise ships. Then they headed to the Eastern Village in Manhattan for a free jazz concert. As I'm no crazy about this less coherent (to my ears) kind I went for a stroll, as far as teh famous SoHo. Well, it was winter time, even without snow, and no public transportation. Street were empty, all I could see were a few restaurants and closed boutiques, so not so impressive all together.

I came back shivering and we drove home. Wednesday morning Michael dropped me by the Williamsboro bridge which I crossed walking like everyone else. The cars couldn't cross any of the bridges unless they had 4 people inside. So unless you catch ride with somebody needing one more person, you have to use your feet. To hell with it! At the end of the bridge the Red Cross was giving coffee and cookies. Nice of them! The sun was shining and I was heading to the Metropolitan Museum.

I hopped in a taxi (during the strike taxis could be shared, and it costed $5 per zone, no matter how many people were in). As I was in downtown, heading mid-town it was $10. A cheerful black driver, we had a bit of a talk. Then I walked on the world famous 5th Avenue. I was amazed by the decoration and fairy tales in shops' windows. The ones at "Bergdorf Goodman"- the most extensive luxury department store looked like theater stages, with an ostrich, zebra, gondola...all different props from various times and places. Bloomingdales and Saks 5th Avenue displayed well known fairy tales scenes with moving dolls. I never saw that many luxury items on display in such environment - not even in Paris or Milan. I liked a lot of the Art Deco buildings too, sky scrapers, many had top adornments you couldn't see but looking up. As avenues were large I didn't feel crushed by the buildings, as I was expecting.

When I got to the entrance of Central Park (after checking on the lobby of the Trump Building - nothing to see) I started feeling cold. There was a chilly wind and I had no stockings under my jeans. Got there, had a pretzel and ginger ale on the steps (no food allowed inside) and got inside one of the most amazing museums I've ever seen. TO BE CONTINUED