DON'T LEAVE IT TO MY IMAGINATION

    Praia da Amoreira sunset

I find very hard to order my mind what to think about and in what terms, but at least I started fighting my tendency to panic. It's hard to accept that I cannot control circumstances,  what tomorrow may bring, for better or worse, hard to avoid feelings of rage, self-pity, fear. Nowadays my mind is playing with me yo-yo style, getting on my nerves on every possible occasion. My imagination runs crazy, like enraged wild wild horses. So many ups and downs, fear, plenty of worst case scenarios, based on the alarming news I am getting from Romania.  Not that culture would do much better in Spain or Portugal. It's hard not to feel humiliated when you see that you've been left aside when it comes to matters regarding your life. 

So what if I lose my job? This job that I wanted so much, that I longed for since 2009, or maybe before that, that I feel it's so right for me, and I'm so right for it. My dream job, that made me leave the beautiful and beloved city of Barcelona, another good working place, and a life that just settled, with great friends, an interesting performing poetry group, nice trips and experiences, enjoying the beauty of Catalunya, this blessed land hanging between the mountains and the Mediterranean, offering so much to the eyes and the soul. Not that I don't love Lisbon, especially it's warm amazing golden glow that precedes and accompanies sunset. It just makes me feel welcome and sheltered here. 

My mother and my friends tell me to keep calm, that something good should come out of it anyway, that we don't know what the outcome of a seemingly negative event might be. So I'm trying to practice calm, but it's hard when you're alone in a foreign country on the other side of Europe, where you hardly landed six months ago. The other strategy would be to keep enjoying the present moment, living it deeply, disconsidering the past or the future. I remember that my ex used to tell me that I hardly start doing something that I am already thinking about the next thing to do. He might be right actually.

I understand that I should let the positive vibes rule my soul and soothe my mind. Enjoy the simple things as the great Lisbon weather, the sun, the breeze, tasty food and the act of preparing it, my friends, things I enjoy at work. And stop my catastrophic imagination from working. Accept the unexpected, the mistery of existence, let it enter my soul and surrender to it. Understand that this is beyond understanding, beyond my intelligence that I am so proud of. 

There are signs around me, lights in the dark, that I forget about most of the time. Last Friday evening I was in the beach town Cascais where I sometimes go for a quick swim. I had a candle in my bag, the purpose was to get inside some church and light it, but I forgot to do it before leaving Lisbon. So I entered a small chapel that was on my way. To my great surprise and disbelief the mass was in Romanian (by the accent I understood the father was from our sister country, Moldova). All of a sudden I understood that my steps were guided there and from my eyes started pouring tears of joy and relief. I knew I was not alone and that church was precisely the one I had to enter that day. 

The following Wednesday there were seven years since my father left this mortal ever changing world, and I felt very sorry that I could not be in Romania celebrating his memory with family and friends. I went to see the priest the day before and I made "colivă", an Orthodox ritual sweet that we only prepare in order to honour the memory of our dear departed, It is meant to be shared at the church, the cemetery, and between neighbours and friends *. It was the first time for me, and I felt very emotional about it, as I was thinking about how I was reproducing the gestures of my grand-grand mother, Maca, my grand-mother, Florica and my mother. They were with me in a very special way. Wednesday morning I went to the church with two heavy bags, with bread, red wine and two small colivas. I wept abundantly thinking of my father, but at the same time I was happy that I was granted the opportunity to honour his memory the traditional way myself, all alone on this side of the world. I shared one coliva at the church and one at work, where we happened to have a good-bye party. So some Portuguese, a Chilean and a French-Japanese appreciated it too.

Today I went to the beach in the afternoon with two Portuguese I met recently, two lovely ladies of my age, a journalist and a event organizer. New friends I hope. On the way back there was this Chinese man on the train, sitting in front of us with his wife. He stroke a conversation, although his Portuguese was very basic, and succeeded involving also the Afro-Portuguese that were standing next to us. He was so cheerful, funny and sweet that brought broad smiles on everyone's face, creating a wonderful energy around him. I think he would make a great actor or guru, he seemed to be the type of person you want to have around as much as possible. And back home I found this message my mother forwarded me about good and bad energy. I understood then that this man was carrying a great amount of positive energy and was able to share it with us. I also understood why I instinctively avoid some people. On the other hand I realised that if I complain, moan and am miserable, I also transmit my bad energy to others. I am tired of being a fighter, but it looks that I have no other options. I do have the option though to fight adversive circumstances in good spirits. 

*In terms of the Greek Pantheon, the wheat symbolized the earth goddess Demeter, while pomegranates stood for her daughter, Persephone, queen of the underworld. Almonds were sacred to Aphrodite and raisins to Dionysis. Sesame seeds were considered to open the doors of consciousness. (Wikipedia)

WINTER TRANSIT IN ROMANIA - Jan 24, 2012

Bucharest, crows at dusk

Already one month since I reached the port without a sea...home. I can't say I badly miss Barcelona, for the time being I enjoy being close to my family and old friends, discovering and rediscovering the good people and interesting and fun places around my beloved city. No matter what, Bucharest is my city. I love the theaters here, some places in the old town, the parks, the 1900-1940 neighbourhoods, some of the old fashion shops and beyond any doubt the best and cheapest street food in the Western world (I guess we belong to it a little since we are part of the EU:) I discovered a great art gallery and new theatre spaces, happy also that some of the old spots like La Scena, hosting theatre, jazz concerts and tango nights in an old classic house, are still there.

It finally snowed by the end of January, and I enjoyed it, with the sun shining bright and the million sparkles all around, covering the grayish parts, the garbage, the dog shit. There is a cold dramatic beauty, made of contrasts, tree branches reaching the up the sky, black and white, crows at dusk, kids with colourful clothes in the white park, with their sledges or walking clumsily around, wrapped up in heavy jackets.

The down part lays in the terrible traffic conditions once the snow has settled, the metro is the only decent way to move in town. And I had to move a lot, running through different offices for my future job and trying to solve administrative problems related to the place I own. A full energy draining programme.

Two weeks of vacation in the French countryside, Rome, Naples and a bit of Tarquinia and Tuscania lessened the weight. I've learned some tricks about keeping the wood fire alive in the fireplace, played with three lovely boys and walked around the frozen pound, trying to laugh when we would wake up in the morning and find out that there is no hot water because the pipes were frozen solid. Roma keeps being the most beautiful city I've ever seen, Naples still has the most impressive bay and sea views (plus MADRE, a fantastic contemporary art museum), the Terme dei Papi were pure bliss in the middle of the snow and, above all, my Italian friends are still the most amazing, warm and hospitable people, God bless them!

Napoli, Posillipo, Palazzo Donn'Anna

P.S. I finally got to leave on Feb. 24, exchanging a gray winter, with icicles threatening to fall, water dripping from every roof around, huge puddles and mounds of dirty snow for a burgeoning bright spring. Fulfilling my dream and start working in cultural management. Feeling extremely lucky and grateful.

Between 2010 and 2011

Barcelona (Montjuïc)


Bucarest (from the plane)

I had a two months break which haven't brought many news. The winter cold joined to the lack of general heating in most Barcelona homes tempered my initial enthusiasm that gave way to reason and pondering. Against all odds my good mood stands still, facing the gloomy situation. I live with little, but enough for housing, food and going out every now and then. I suffer for having lost my routine, soon there will be a year since then. Mornings are terrible, I stopped enjoying having them to myself, I need to be active, to have something to do, somewhere to go to , that's not the library or the seaside. Nevertheless, I can't stop enjoying Barcelona, disfrutar is a good word. Just the way you enjoy an exquisite meal, Thai for instance, every bite it's an opportunity to savour the different flavours reaching perfection.

Luckily enough, I go on with my Catalan classes three times a week and my poetry group performances, which got great press coverage lately, partly due to my efforts to get in touch with the local newspapers and people interested in poetry. I keep meeting fantastic motivating people and this keeps me convinced that I made the right choice, even if my job search seems a neverending job itself.

Even the apartment I live in now it's a life lesson per se, I found an announcement in the Romanian goodies shop. I love my room, it has a balcony , the light I was longing for and enough space for a desk, beside the big bed and the huge closet (plenty of place for all my skeletons). My roommates are the most unusual I've ever had, they belong to the Romanian working class and came here from different smaller cities, like many others, to make money they invest in housing in our beloved country that we don't live in. Or to bring half of their family here, if it's the case. So they don't care much about going out or doing things, as they care about saving to the limit. Enjoying life is a strange concept to them. They're people I had very tiny chances to meet anywhere else but here and now. It's touching and a bit scary at the same, to see how different we are, and to notice that I am so lucky after all to have studied and traveled the world. Having enriching friends and relationships and good interesting jobs on top of it.

Christmas home was delightful, after 6 years of absence at this time of the year. And still, the gray Bucharest, the general feeling of laisser-aller that reigns in the streets and most public spaces filled me with sadness and disgust. Even the Health Insurance Bucharest headquarters were a shameful mess, bordering an area of dull apartment buildings and humble houses where street dogs still roam dangerously free. On the other side the first shopping mall that opened in 2000, Bucharest being the same patchwork of miserable baroque post-communist post-modern post-civilised world. I managed to feel the season's joy only by leaving the outside behind the closed doors, sharing with very special friends and close to my family, now richer with my sister's new born son. Although I don't have a home there in Romania anymore, our home is now rented and I had to run between four houses at some point, looking for my winter clothes, staying over with mom and visiting my sister and the baby. In a way it's better to know that somehow I cut my way back, didn't I always wanted to live by the Mediterranean, cradle of European civilizations and cultures? Well, here I am, now I have to live up to it, or better said, to work out my place here.

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.

AUGUST 28, 06 - SOMEBODY DIED ON AUGUST 24

898 days ago

CRISTIAN NEMESCU - Romanian film director, born in 1979, died in a car accident. Someone I never met, who made a few short movies, won prizes and was probably full of dreams and hopes. He was filming his first feature, California Dreaming, with young Romanian actors and Armand Assante. A comedy.

May his soul find peace.

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 19, 06 - SOMETIMES IT FEELS GREAT TO BE ROMANIAN

1029 days ago

An old lady I know from the church, who lives on my street, just knocked at my door. She brought me "coliva", a sweet made of boiled wheat with sugar and walnuts, that we make only for burial ceremonies and anniversaries. We have this habit of sharing food and wine for the soul of our dear departed, maybe based on old pre-christian tradition, in order to assure him/her is nourished in the other world.

I was so touched she thought of me (she didn't even know my name), and also by the symbolic of the gesture.

FEBRUARY 12, 06 - MONTREAL BLACK CULTURE AND WHAT'S NEW IN ROMANIA

1095 days ago

BLACK CULTURE I went to the presentation of 2 films about Montreal Haitians on Friday night, within the Black History month.

http://www.tohu.ca/activites/calendr...

About teenager mothers "Les petites mères" and a rap singer "Au nom de la mère et du fils", coming from a poor neighbourhood. Montreal doesn't have ghettos, only poor areas, a bit more hazardous to walk around at night.

The recently appointed Governor of Canada - Michaëlle Jean, herself a Haitian and former resident of quartier St. Michel was there too. Her mother came alone to Montréal with her two daughters, and Mme Jean became a brilliant journalist, after language studies, being appointed last year as Governor. Her husband is a documentary film director, they both had to give up French citizenship when she took over her new function.

Although it is more of a symbolic function, I was impressed that the former Prime Minister chose a black, French speaking, former immigrant woman for this position. A lovely lady - very modest, bright and fun, I did enjoy her speech. She is also very good looking, the classy way.

About St. Michel and Haitian community - well, in Bucharest there are plenty of the same kind of stories. Unfortunately. I do admire those girls though who decided to keep their children, they were 16 or 17 when they became mothers - it is a tough life. And most of them were supported by their parents, which is even more admirable.

ROMANIA In a local Romanian newspaper (published by 2 former university colleagues) I found news about the corruption trial in Romania. The former prime minister (Adrian Nastase) is accused, together with some other rich&famous. I'm glad this is happening and I hope it will keep steady, at least to get rid of the big fish. Because to eliminate corruption is a dream(Canada just went through a sponsorship scandal involving the Liberal Party that made this one lose the last elections)

BLOGS Parallel - jumping from blog to blog (some people link their to other people's pages) I started reading 4 Romanian ones.

- a former colleague from the Faculty of Journalism, presently a web developer in New York
- a Medieval history researcher - 26 yo, presently in Poitiers, France, full of wit and knowledge, from whom I'm learning a lot about Romanian "alternative" history
- a young teacher at my former faculty, who's passioned about e-media and seems to do great
- a 21 years old student in Journalism - smart and fun, who opens me a window towards young people's life in Romania. Very similar to the one I used to have 10 years ago

It's funny how somebody's blog can be a gate to a different world, especially somebody completely unknown.

NOVEMBER 14, 2005 - INSIGHT

1186 days ago

Trying to tell somebody today where I'm coming from:

"Bucharest is a city of substance, a very dusty city I would say, former garden city, many houses with yards. There was no serious urban plan and the city developed pretty much at random, a mixture of everything. Some beautiful areas and many dull ones. Old buildings falling apart, gypsies squat in some, city of confusion where stories and histories get confused and confusing.

Romania is a mixture of cultures, Transylvania under Austro-Hungarians, strong German (Saxon) influence too, northern Moldova influenced by Polish and Russians, South and East by Greeks and Turks - crossroads. So our cultural identity is hard to define. It became more European after 1800. Up to then our aristocracy was still dressing in long robes and big hats, according to the Oriental fashion. And we started having great writers and painters, keeping the pace with the West.

And after 150 years communism came. And we're trying again to catch up. Or run away, like me and try to define yourself according to some Romanian and some inner values, acquired through books, when a teen, travels later on."

The rest is silence, or a sum of question marks, every new answer brings up other questions. And so goes life.

SEPT 11, 05 - AND THE SUN STILL RISES

1249 days ago

One year today since I became a landed immigrant, setting foot on Canadian soil. It's so weird, isn't it? I hoped the time would stop so I can catch my breath, get used to the idea of my father's departure...sometimes I surprise myself thinking about calling or writing to him, then I remember he won't be there to answer.

So...about my trip to Romania: got there for a cheaper price thanks to Swiss Airlines, rather to the general manager here, who used to work in Romania and lost his father too. Cried a lot...I found out on Monday 5pm, got on the plane Tuesday 5pm, arrived in Bucharest on Wednesday around noon. Got home from work Tuesday at 2:30, went out at 3:30 - it never happened before. I don't have too many black clothes, I hate black...so I travelled light.

My mother and her brother were waiting for me at the airport - such a sunny day, I dropped my suitcase, saw my sister and went to the cemetery - bought 10 beautiful purple dalias and a candle on the way. Met my aunt and my father's widow, my cousin...I was never too close to my father's family, it's rather a polite relationship...in a white chapel, in the heat, he was resting...all covered in make up, his full lips so much thiner, so quiet...didn't look like him at all. Lots of flowers, unknown people coming and going. There was a Requiem in the evening, at a small French church - there were many people I know: my grandma's sister, her son, friends...my best friend - Liza, came to stand by me, she knew my father too since we were 16, I was next to her when her father died.

Confusion, couldn't accept it and face it...the funeral next day (in a catholic cemetery, as he was baptised as Greek-Catholic - pretty common in Transylvania, where many Romanians converted to Catholicism under the Austro-Hungarians) was on TV, the Romanian priest here in Montreal saw me on TV via satellite, at the cemetery - what a small ridiculous world, isn't it?

My younger brother (different mother) was there too: a handsome 18 years old in a black shirt and pants - we felt closer than ever. And TV stars, prominent people of the Romanian cultural life, the team that used to work with him at the TV cooking (culinary anthropology ?) show, simple people too, that only saw my father on TV. Eventually I convinced my mother to come also - for me if not for him, she divorced 29 years ago. She was the first. His 2nd wife could not come, as she lives in Switzerland, but her mother came. His 3rd wife came with flowers, lit a candle and we had a little chat. She's an actress of good reputation by now, with a bit of European fame. My dear Liza was there again. The customary post-funeral feast took place in a nice restaurant, by a lake, I sit down with my brother and I realized only him and his latest wife - Ileana, really loved my father the way he was, so unacceptable to many of us. They didn't expect anything from him, and were happy any time he was around.

I decided to sleep at his place that night, with Ileana and my father's sister - Anca. We talked about him, remembered things and I took his books and started reading in a loud voice. I realized I am so similar to him, in so many ways, from other people's stories. I also found out he was very glad any time he was getting an e-mail from me, he would call up his wife and read it to her. There are so many questions left un-answered and so many words unspoken. Between us there was love and there was silence, bridges we never crossed, and that's what makes me most sad.

The day after I went to the sea side, with Liza, stayed there until Sunday evening - about 48 hours. Had delicious fish, with polenta and garlic sauce, swam in my dear Black Sea (no matter how turqoise the Caribbean is, I still love the Black Sea). We were 3 women, but another friend of mine was already there, with her husband, baby and dog. Saturday I turned 31, we had a nice dinner on the shore, my twin friends came over too - a nice warm bunch of people, I felt loved and protected. I went for a walk by myself before that, with my diary...thought about many things, wanted to cover the 5 km until the next village, but rain stopped me.

The sea was as good as always, soothing me, talking to me in her 1000 whispers and moans, giving me waves and foam to wash up my troubled soul.

Met another friend there on Sunday...life is still good to me.

Back to Bucharest - legal problems, legal issues, too much pressure, too soon, left a power of attorney, waiting for the lawyers to sort it out.

I suddenly grew up, got responsibilities...to be continued.