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.

No November rain

Barcelona, full of sun, full of colours, a few warm autumn shades here and there. I was in Madrid for a job interview, it had a stronger autumn smell, matching the season's foliage, more obvious than here. I look at my photographs from last year's hike in Vermont, the trees branches were already nude and the mountains turned brown. It seems like ages ago, so faraway, in a different life. And still, I feel a little nostalgic when I think about the firtrees smell and the bright blue lakes. Nostalgic and grateful for all the great moments I spent there.

Today I went for another hike through the Collserola area, less green and dustier, more urbanized, but still pretty woods.



Life is made of different patchwork like places, people and experiences, what matters is to know nothing is forever, you have to let go when you can't hold on. And be grateful for what you get, I am probably one of the luckiest people I know.

Seacily - Into the blue

Pretty Cefalù, dominated by the Norman Duomo

Even if I had any expectations, I have to admit Sicily went far beyond them, like in any other country that sits below a scorching sun, everything there borders the superlative. On the positive and the negative side, true, but exercising an irresistible attraction, maybe also because I have a weakness for ports and islands. We spent nine full days there without seeing a cloud. The sun makes things look brighter, but also blurred, their contours fading in the hot trembling air. A feast of colours and hard to bear heat.

Beautiful sea, deep blue skies, the silhouette of Etna with its 3350m dominating it surroundings, delicious food - arguably the best ice cream on the planet, history, art and creativity beyond the wildest imagination. Who would believe there is such a thing as Arabian - Norman architecture? Or that the poets at Norman kings court in the XII century were Arabs, while the administrative language was still Greek, until the immigrants from the continent finally latinized the island? Sicily is more than a border between continents, it is a gate, an interstitial space where the richness of exchanges crosses over centuries reaching our time.

Its history is as intricate as the Arab and Byzantine mosaics adorning its churches and cathedrals, as inexplicable as the amazing combination of architectural elements coming from all ages of art. An emirate, then a kingdom, or sitting under imperial powers, a pure mixture claiming its own identity of many cultures. Once part of Magna Graecia, now part of the Republic of Italy, still holding some autonomy, having its own legislative assembly. Sicani and Siculi to start with, then Phoenicians, Puns, Greeks, Romans (Archimedes got killed during the siege of Siracusa), Byzantines, Arabs, Normans (Hauteville/Altavilla) dynasty, even Swabians (Hohenstaufen), the French (Anjou/Angiò), the Aragonese, who brought Catalan as the court language, all ruling for not more than two centuries, fighting continuously for the power. When Aragon and Castilla were joined through marriage, Sicily became a feud of the Spanish Crown, for about three centuries and its sumptuous barocco art easily rivals the one of Spain and its other colonies. Even the Savoia and the Habsburg families took hold of this golden island, so Sicily finally chose to unify with the Kingdom of Naples under los Borbones, a family of French descent that got to rule half of Europe.


Detail from La Martorana church

All these different nations left their mark on the food, the architecture, the arts, the lifestyle. So traveling there is like taking a trip with a time machine that's also able to overcome space constrictions. Churches and palaces mixing Arab and Byzantine mosaics and cupulas, Romanesque structure and Baroque paintings and marble intarsia.

For gourmets without prejudices - calf spleen sandwiches - pani ca meusa or roast intestines of sheep or goat - stigghiola. For seafood amateurs like me - all kinds of fish and shrimps, plus sea urchins, oysters, small conchs and a variety of seashells, ranging from well known mussels to razor clams - cannolichi and big clams - fasolari, culminating with the calamari ink pasta, as delicious as unattractive. A lot of almond paste sweets, including marzipan fruits (frutta di Martorana) and the famous cassata, or pastries filled with fig and citrus jams. I had a delicious watermelon thick jelly flavoured with jasmine and sprinkled with pistachio bits.

Pasticceria Scimone in Palermo

The first two evenings we went to a symphonic concert at Palazzo Chiaromonte or Steri, then a jazz concert in the garden of the ruined Santa Maria dello Spasimo in the Kalsa district. We were lucky enough to be there in time Wednesday for the Santa Rosalia day, the patron saint of Palermo, extended sometimes to the whole of the island. Beside a popular music and theatre show in the courtyard of Theatre Ditirammu we admired the whole procession through Via Vittorio Emmanuele, made of about 40 colourful caretti siciliani carried by heavily adorned horses and exposing a beautiful girl dressed in white decorated with red roses, the symbol of the saint. To my great pleasure, with the contribution of the Santuzza, I met twice a young Sicilian actor whom I happened to see just a few weeks before acting in Bucharest: Alessandro Romano,

Around Palermo we have been to Monreale, worth a visit for its panorama of the Conca d'Oro region and the most amazing Cathedral, from 1174. Then Cefalù, a charming medieval town on the shore, with a swarming beach and enchanting atmosphere. Most of the time we swam in Mondello, with crystal clean waters and fine sand, but far too crowded. The picturesque Sferracavallo fishing village attracted us with great seafood. As I was longing for quite a few years to see Etna, a one day trip there and to the touristy Taormina accomplished my desire and confirmed my disgust for programmed group trips. Nevertheless, it is an unforgettable experience to be on top of an active volcano and see old craters, lava courses and wisps of smoke raising into the thin air.



We expected people to be noisy and drive like crazy, so there where very few downsides to the whole experience. One was the shops schedule, including supermarkets, most of them closed daily from 1 to 4pm, on Sunday and Monday mornings. plus the Santa Rosalia celebrations made them close doors for two extra days in the middle of the week. Palermo is not dirtier or noisier than a lot of other cities, including New York for instance, and our bus trips proved very successful. People were very nice, eager to help and answer questions, also curious about where we're coming from and our way of life, willing to share their experiences and knowledge, given that we know Italian.

Summing it up, I will definitely go back to Palermo, also eager to see more of Sicilia, there is plenty to learn and discover. I had the same great time with my mother, both sharing the same interest in combining sightseeing with sea swimming and food and wine tasting. I could say it was a complete vacation from all points of view, overwhelming all my senses with a profusion of smells, colours, music, landscapes and buildings all admirable in their own way. I had to admit to myself that Italy still sits comfortably on top of my preferences and makes me feel welcome and at home, offering so many things to my curiosity about the world's ways.

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.

No Sex, Just the City

City Hall seen from the park

My fourth time in New York, after two years of absence, and only now I got the feeling that I started to get hold of the City, maybe because I was guiding someone else for once.

I started seeing it in a more coherent way, at least part of Manhattan, with its rich history of sweat, blood, pride, progress and wealth. There are some words now that are very fashionable for describing places: fascinating, magic, charming, vibrant, magnificent, contrasting, applying to anywhere, from the Caribbean to Papua and Paris. As many cities are contrasting, vibrant, fascinating and magnificent, New York is no exception, but what matters is what makes a place so intriguing and deserving that many plump and pretentious words. What do I like in New York, what matches my search of thrill and enchantment.

First of all, I don't even know when I stopped being interested in shopping. I guess I never really liked going out buying whatever allures me, most of the times I have in mind that I need this or that, at least more skirts or dresses, for instance. Fashionista is not a name for me either, I dress for the occasion and thanks to my grandmother's example I have a great sense of mix-matching colours and styles. My wardrobe is full of things that look slightly different than the norm and that I keep forever, because I really happen to like most of them. So shopping is not an issue for me in New York, just like monument list checking. Never been up on the Empire State Building or on a tour to see lady Liberty, as a matter of fact.

This time I paid more attention to my attention and what I like is the profusion of Art Deco details on the sky scrapers, built during the heavy industrialization period, when the machines gradually substituted people (what made us produce more, sell more, buy more and finally get to this latest crisis. Metropolis by Fritz Lang is a masterful example of an artsy alarm signal created during the very same period, another one is Chaplin's Modern Times). An abundance then of crafted metal doors with geometrical patterns, mostly in shiny golden brass, different patterns climbing up the stone walls up to where they become invisible to eye (but not to a more powerful camera lens). Fantasist shapes tower up in the sky, so if one wants to see the best of architecture, one has to look up most of the time. I like this continuous feeling of walking back in time and expecting to see the lovely fashion of the roaring 20's and worried 30's replacing the modern times snickers and jeans. In New York I feel the industrious nation of those times is still up and about, although in the popular areas probably half of the people are tourists.

I like the obvious care for the arts, culture and education that the Central Station, the New York Public Library and the Metropolitan Museum, amongst others, tell about. The Central Park and its gracious statues, fountains and buildings. It's not only a financial and business center, but also a home for the arts and science, starting with the Lincoln Centre and going through all the local theatres, festivals and jazz bars. Compared to many European museums hosted in palaces that were built for living, not for exposing art, the MET amazes by its organization and professional way of display, carefully explaining the context of the work and the life of the artist, meant for educational purposes too, not only for the entertainment of the cultured, initiated visitors. And seeing numerous names of donors on the walls, one understands that these people were not only wealthy, they were also wise and caring, willing to become famous by their good deeds too. They knew that progress comes from education, and they wanted to build a new world based on democracy and meritocracy, so they did their best in making the USA rival mother Europe. For me is questionable either they succeeded, and if bigger high rise buildings made anything better (personally I like user and nature friendly spaces).

So much about the general impression this time. I like the bridges, the old run down metro stations, the food stalls, the street musicians, the artsy Villages and SoHo area, the mix of colours and races, although I find there are more Vietnamese and Thai people in Montréal, and their restaurants too, to my delight. Not to speak about the French style pastry shops, which shine by absence in New York, or otherwise are overpriced, like most of the food. The grocery shopping in compensation was affordable. Although I stay away from shops, I enjoy their artistically decorated windows. On the other hand I know that many dirty jobs are performed by illegal immigrants that live in dumps, far from the pretty side they clean up daily. I don't understand how comes there's no control of it. They get paid less than minimum wage and have no social or medical protection. But they can live in the US and the employers get cheap labor in exchange. One reason I wouldn't like to live in New York, for instance, beyond the over bullicious atmosphere, the long work hours, the short vacations, the weak human relationships, constantly challenged by the accelerated rhythm of life and the obsession of performing and socializing.


We walked a lot, took many pictures, ate little, saw some of my friends and some of the Metropolitan Museum and Central Park, due to scarce time. Which didn't allow us to go to any decent jazz concert or Cuban restaurant, as we planned. I also missed the Italian Arte del Gelato and Obika mozzarella bar. But I managed to get a few bottles of wine, cheaper than in Québec, including the Marsala requested for Tiramisù, so I can make the original recipe. I was very happy that my Cubano fell in love with the City and enjoyed all the wandering, although it went beyond its energy reserve.

I'm a piece of chocolate

Leonidas has a praline called Antoinette. Naturally, I identify myself with the dark version.

JANUARY 9, 2009 - LAST STOP: NASSAU, BAHAMAS AND A FEW STEPS IN FORT LAUDERDALE

33 days ago

NEW PROVIDENCE, BAHAMAS

As we approached the island on the fine morning of December 26, we heard loud music, I was to find out later that it came from drum cowbells, horns, whistles, scrapers and brass. Through the narrow spaces between streets we could distinguish some kind of parade sporting a profusion of colourful feathers. I rushed out holding tight my dear Nikon D40 and I joined the cheerful crowds.

The celebration proved to be a Junkanoo, a kind of local carnival, taking place on December 26 and January 1st only. Apparently I saw the Saxon Superstars with the "Exploring the Orient" theme, led by Percy ‘Vola’ Francis - a painter, designer, window decorator, sign writing, song writer and singer. I wonder how comes we saw it around noon, when it was supposed to take place from 2am to 8am. Did they do it only for the three cruiseships in port, to attract and distract, as most shops were closed? It could be, I saw an antique Saturday flea market in Montevideo opening on Tuesday because of the cruise ship docking that day.

It really made my day, especially because it was so unexpected. I took pictures, I followed the parade, walking on and off the street, climbing on benches, feeling the vibe and energy of lively colours and music. On the way I inquired about a nice quiet beach and for $1.25 the local bus took me to Goodman's Bay, frequented by Bahamians, tranquil and pretty. The wind brought over clouds quite often, so I did not really get to enjoy my swims and the sand. I talked to a lady and her ex-brother in law about cruising, the US, Caribbean, Bahamas for a while, they were living in Philadelphia and NY for now, but were originally from Nassau. They offered me a lift back to the ship and on the way we kept talking about Caribbean food, corruption and history.

So it was a nice encounter all over.

FORT LAUDERDALE

Disembarkation went very smoothly, to my great surprise, as I was used to long waiting lines and times. Also, immigration was made outside the ship, in the terminal building. It was so quick that I had to wait outside for my friend to show up. We split at the same place where we met, I was actually quite sad as I was watching the bench where she was sitting a week before, waiting for me.

The Floyd's hostel seemed decent and Katie and her daughter Nicole were nice. I was a bit contrariated though that my CC was charged in advance (by the time of booking) and I didn't have to sign any bill. I decided to trust my feet and walk to the Art Museum. As in many other US cities (Tampa for instance), the streets were completely empty, no one was walking.

I made my way to the nice waterside promenade the Riverwalk, I watched the fancy boats and the mobile bridge opening and closing above them. The Art Museum proved to be a great idea, I went there looking for a Cuban painter exhibition: Carlos Luna.
combined with Picasso's ceramics. This artist was Adrian's professor in Cuba for a short while, he then immigrated to Mexico and in 2003 to Miami. His works bear then both the mark of the Cuban and Mexican way of life, filled with symbols and even materials (like amate paper and Talavera ceramics). Some were huge and were making a strong impression through their bold colours and shapes too. They convey the sensation of being very lively, filled with passion of all kinds (some were showing Fidel being beheaded).

Another exhibition was following the history of the art in the USA, under the title "Becoming of Age" and showing efforts of national artists to find their individual voice, without copying what was happening in Europe in the field of arts.

My next goal was Las Olas boulevard, which I joined at the end of the Riverwalk promenade. It's a very busy avenue, packed with shops, restaurants and bars, but quite enjoyable and extremely lively and crowded, compared to the empty back streets. I had a nice huge salad with sesame pan seared tuna and mango and I jumped on the old wagon that for $1 takes people to the beach. The sea was a little choppy and not so clear, so I decided to stay put, read my book and enjoy the flavourful air. I knew that shortly after 5 Carnival Splendor should show up, leaving on another cruise.

My apparent loneliness attracted the attention of a younger guy who tried to convince me to get acquainted, which I kindly refused. As I advised him to go check the Art Museum on my way back, he followed me on the beach, trying to start a conversation. I guessed he spoke Spanish and he proved to be Uruguayan. After my happy three months in "el paisito" I couldn't help feeling an instant simpathy, so we ended up deciding to go for a drink or maybe dinner later on. Meanwhile I took a walk on the beach, taking pictures and watching around. I saw a deep blue type of jelly fish, several of them were thrown on the beach by the waves. I found out much later that it was the infamous "Portuguese Man of War", that I was longing to see for a long time. I also think it was a smaller one of them that stung me in Barbados, out of Crane beach, on September 3rd 2003, as I was turning 29.

I ended up having dinner with Aaron, who proved to be a very smart, well mannered and kind person, a bit lonely though. He took me afterwards to the hostel, but we stopped on the way for a bottle of wine and my next morning breakfast. We enjoyed our drink next to some crazy yacht crew members, from the US, Australia, UK and Canada, one from each country. The Australian was so drunk that he was rolling on the ground laughing like crazy every five minutes. I went to bed around 11pm, my roomie was some weird black woman who was working for Macy's and tried to convince me she's some big business planner who just moved back from the North and is thinking about getting together some grand schemes. A-ha!
The poor thing was sleeping with all her suitcases around her, some bags were placed on the bed. I was afraid she might get crazy and try to kill me in my sleep.

I succeeded to wake up in time around 7am and jumped in the shower, by the time I was under I noticed the bathtub needed some serious cleaning. Then, to my horror, a tiny lizzard sprang from the drainage hole, desperately flapping its delicate feet, trying not to get drowned. I jumped out of the shower as fast as I could, washed my feet in the sink and rushed to get dressed and eat something (although I had to fight not to get sick). After I calmed down I ran back to take a picture of the poor creature, that had soap stains all over, I was actually afraid it might damage its delicate skin.

The bus came in time and I reached the airport without any farther surprises.

I found Fort Lauderdale, with its many canals and boats and a seizable downtown much more enjoyable than Miami. My friend Mariana, who lives right next to Fl, in Coral Springs, told me the first time she was in Florida she felt like crossing a long, neverending village, because every town joins another. It's nice for a visit, especially when you come from the snow and chilly winds.

JANUARY 8, 2009 - SOME MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE CARIBBEAN CRUISE

Brewer's Bay, St. Thomas, USVI

Out of the four ports of call, I knew pretty well the first two, the third was completely new and the fourth a vague reminiscence.

OLD SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO

In 2002 - 2004, while most of my ship colleagues were rushing to the mall for shopping and movies, I was either wondering through the old city or seeing some film at the Fine Arts Cinema, in case they were playing something Spanish or Latin-American. Stepping on my own traces, I walked once more along Paseo de la Princesa, under the last sunrays; on the blue cobbled stone streets; through the Christmas decorated Plaza de Armas, stopping by the cemetery, the beautiful now hotel El Convento, savouring its walls and furniture centenary atmosphere; eating shrimps with mofongo de yuca and tostones at the traditional creole restaurant El Jibarito, drinking Mexican sangria at Maria's. We ended up taking funky pictures under Columbus' statue, just like I did before Xmas 2002. The funkiest ice parlor I've ever seen - Ben and Jerry's - didn't have any appealing flavor that evening. The coqui frogs accompanied us with their birdlike chirping. This kind of pilgrimage had some kind of therapeutic effects, it was reassuring to go to the same places and do the same things just like more than four years ago.

The guys at Maria's bar recognized me and so did my dear Maria, the french from Biarritz who spent already quite a few decades on the island - this touched me deeply, as did the news that Willy, the gentleman-farmer with a straw hat and dressed in immaculate white, that used to quote me from Pablo Neruda, was ill. I left full of joy and nostalgia.

CHARLOTTE-AMALIE AND BREWERS BAY, ST. THOMAS - US Virgin Islands

As I love turtles I had no choice but go to my paradise like public beach: Brewers Bay, where Green Sea Turtles wander in the crystal clear waters, grazing the bottom sea grass. There are usually very few people around, and this was my favourite nature contemplation spot, where I could sit or swim quietly, feeling one with the Creation. My patty maker and seller, Hyroon, came around lunch time to her kitchen-caravan, to my great joy. She simply asked me "So, you're back?", warming up my heart, you know you somehow belong somewhere when at least one person there knows you when you come back. Unfortunately she brought no dough so I just had a bitter-sweet refreshing mauby juice and we headed to town looking for salt fish and conch tasty patties.

Charlotte-Amalie keeps its antique charm hidden under the excessive commercial spirit, through the narrow lanes called gadde (a memory from its Danish times), packed with bars, restaurants, galleries, jewelry and souvenir shops.

The bookstore on the pier where I bought a few books by my travel writer guru - Bruce Chatwin, is now smaller, there's no more upper floor, which took away much of its charm, but the good books are still there. I found an interesting one: "Cruise Confidential" by the only American guy to work in the dining room (for the sake of a Romanian - hahaha!) - Brian David Bruns. A good story about ship life - in his department. I realized that, although we lived closely, different departments had different stories and issues.

On the pier I also met an ancient boss of mine (Chief Purser), Antonia Kordic, from Croatia, she was a nice one, so I was glad to see her.

The sail away in the velvety night had the same charm, with the lights bright like Christmas candles on the dark silhouettes of the rolling St. Thomas hills.

LA ROMANA, REPUBLICA DOMINICANA

First, we made the bad choice of a beach trip, which had us stranded on Catalina island, Italian property, under alternatively clouded, dripping and rainy skies, with no food around, only souvenir shops. I took a tour of them enoying talking to the Dominicans and buying a small wooden turtle. Those guys have a hard life, selling that Caribbean touristy crap that looks alike all over the place, for hardly food and a dwelling. Still better than cleaning after the tourists I imagine.

The boat brought us back just in time so we can pay a visit to the nice artist village Altos de Chavón, built by an American millionaire (Charles Bluhdorn) for his daughter's birthday with the money he made out of sugarcane and the work of those poor people. The place looks like an Italian middle-age remain, downlooking on the green lazy waters of the Chavón river, over grassy and bushy even greener slopes. Extremely picturesque. Fortunately it was designed by a talented Italian scenographer, so it doesn't look like Disneyland, but still, it has nothing to do with Dominican culture and history. It's part of the Casa de Campo millionaire complex, packed with VIP villas, golf courses and God knows what else a lot of money can buy.

We had a nice cozy lunch at Le Boulanger, topped with an amazing tres leches dessert then we headed back to the departing ship. I had the feeling the only true Dominican things I saw were the river and the dessert. Welcome to the Caribbean islands, US, Spanish and Italian properties welcome you and your money!

DECEMBER 30th, 08 - BACK TO CRUISING THE CARIBBEAN SEA FOR ONE WEEK - PART I - THE SHIP

44 days ago

Ok, not all the Caribbeans, just a few Eastern islands: Puerto Rico, St. Thomas (U.S.V.I.), Dominican Republic and the Bahamas - Nassau actually. The Caribbean humid and salty air seemed to be really nice to my skin, after risking sun burning and having to hide for a while, now it's golden and soft as silk.

THE SHIP

Most important, I did take a cruise on my former employer's latest ship: Carnival Splendor. A good friend of mine from university (and far cousin) still works there and I was able to cruise with her as crew family. I had a god time especially due to the fact that I was able to wander where and whenever I pleased, guest and crew area, in my own clothes. Somehow I missed being employed there, as I could meet people only for brief moments, this time I was just a pleasant outsider who was scheduled to get off after seven days.

First of all, it was great seeing Emi again and getting to spend time with her after more than 10 years. She joined the ships one year after me and I was not even aware. Besides, we never worked aboard the same vessel. Seeing an old friend in a foreign environment is still seeing an old friend, sharing memories and having the pleasure of noting that nothing has really changed between us, on the contrary, I think I became a more understading person and this facilitated our contact. She received me extremely well, with delicatessen and warmth from the heart, thus bringing out the best in me.

The layout of Splendor was very similar to my previous ships: Destiny, Victory and Triumph, only there was just one crew bar, on deck 0, big, but far from the crew open deck, I used to love grabbing a glass of wine and going outside. Another big change was the absence of the jazz trio, apparently they are disappearing from ships. During my three years with Carnival, musicians, especially the jazz trio in the Cigar Bar, were my best friends. So I could not renew some of my daily rituals, like listening to jazz every evening, while sipping some cognac, Cointreau or Grand Marnier.

I did go to the gym the morning of the sea days and to the sauna in the evening, and I hanged out on the deck 3 huge balcony, exposed to the waves spray, air and breeze, but not to the wild winds and pitiless sun light. I showed very few times my almost naked body to the Italian officers on the deck (who are also supervising female crew members taking sun right under their very noses on deck 4). Guests complain they cannot go there, but it is the smallest open area on the ship, meanwhile they have access to all the large ones. I only lied in the sun early in the morning or late in the afternoon. After lunch I used to lie in a sun chair on deck 3 correcting my master thesis. Being very busy at work and spending most of her time with people, Emi preferred to eat late and isolated on the Lido deck guest area, instead of the crowded and noisy staff mess. Her preferred food was the Indian corner called for some confusing reason "Grill", providing curry dishes, different chutneys, humus and yogurt salad, called dal. At night we would indulge in the buffet, that sported smoked salmon and great desserts every night, to my despair, as I was trying to hold my horses when it came to eating. I never set foot at the Gala Buffet though.

We had only one drink in an outside bar on the formal night and I only watched half of the Latin themed main show. The rest of the time we would get our drinks in the crew bar. I talked mostly to a Brasilian guy selling future cruises onboard, a Romanian motorman, the Romanian Shore Excursions Manager, the photographers (the ones from Romania and Macedonia especially) and the Latin trio that had as usual a boring generic name: Latin Fiesta, being three fun loving and nice Dominicans. I was lucky enough to meet one friend from my past contracts: Patricia from Peru, who works in the gift shop. There were other familiar faces around, but none I really knew well. With two exceptions: one Chilean bartender from the last muster station I supervised on Triumph, and one Colombian guy who remembered me because he was involved at some points with my Romanian roomie. Many of my friends are now having regular lives on land. I'd be much happier for Emi if I knew she has left the ships. But on the other hand it's hard to leave, even if people work long hours with little rewarding or none.

I found there were some new rules, like the crew wearing their name tag even in crew areas (I had a Crew Family badge), which I think it's good, this way you avoid guests roaming freely in private zones. It happened once on the Sensation for two fairly drunk couples to get in the crew bar.

To make a long story short, I led pretty much the same life I did when I was a crew member, sticking to open decks and running away from air conditioning as much as possible. I also preferred crew areas because they are quieter. It felt very natural to go back there, maybe because I knew this ship layout very well. I understood that an absence longer than four years did not mean much, after spending three intense years on ships. Somehow it got under my skin. To such point that I felt urged to give people directions or asking their questions while in line at the Pursers' Info desk. By the way, my former position: International Purser, is also about to disappear, they're trying to use more pursers with language skills. What a pity, I loved my job, only it was not well paid and it had no future.

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.

DECEMBER 10, 05 - NICE BRIEF ENCOUNTER

1159 days ago

Last week when volunteering, at a hotel welcome desk, I met this "character" I might say, as he is more than just a person or a man, or gentleman. Mr. K, like in the Process.

First of all, he's an amazing mixture of Catalan, French and Italian, speaking all these languages perfectly, plus English and some Portuguese, so our conversation was winding through their nuances and enchantments.

As he was very busy with the conference (on behalf of Catalunya - Spain), we decided to go out this Friday. I wanted to show him "my" Montrèal. Started with a Brazilian/Cajun (New Orleans style, from Acadian/Northern Québec immigrants that went down there) food fare: softshell crab, seafod gumbo, alligator and coconut sauce fish - the Bahia way they say. The restaurant is literally invaded by green plants. There are a couple of tacky alligators too hanging around, but all together there's a nice ambiance and the food is rather decent.

Went for coffee and dessert at Les deux Marie - a French coffee shop I love on St. Denis, then got to a well hidden jazz bar (underground) on the same street La Kemia. The jazz was just finishing around 11, so after some more chatting we ended up until 3am at Cafe Sarajevo, another favourite spot I haven't been to since July.

Usually they play gipsy music from Yugoslavia, quite commercial at times. I saw in the newspaper there was a L'Esprit d'Istanbul concert, and I'm quite nostalgic about Turkey. The concert was over, in theory, but the Turkish drummer wrapped around his hips one of those coin decorated dancing scarves and started whirling and shaking, with guys playing drums, guitar and accordeon. A surprising excellent performance.

I got home and straight to bed about 4.

Saturday we went for lunch and a bit of wandering in the same area I like: Mont Royal - St. Denis - Duluth. Santropol - a community fun, colourful, warm café, where they serve no alcohol, but nice coffees and fruitjuices and healthy organic food. Dessert was Portuguese, in one of the numerous bakeries of the kind in the area. All people serving were Portuguese, as well as the ones sitting next to us. Pastel de nata, an orange tart and a sweet potatoe mini-cake.

Then a visit to 10.000 Villages - a fair trade shop, with crafted products - mostly decoration, few clothing items from all over poor countries: Latin America, Africa, Asia. Lots of colours and textures - a real pleasure to look around and buy a few items.

We spent a quick hour at my place looking at pictures and telling more of my life stories.

Then I went for dinner with my Spanish speaking Montreal friends and he went for more jazz with a colleague and people he knows here.

I ended up in Cafe Sarajevo again, with a Norwegian friend - Petter and an Armenian Turkish - Loerna. This time the music was on - kind of pop/folk Turkish, still had fun.

Bottom line - I had a great time, so much smooth communication, he travelled all over the place and has some kind of extraordinary family, an excellent talker, enthusiastic and empathetic, I felt like I knew him since ever. And that we can go on talking forever A special kind of connection that doesn't happen every day. He's taking a plane today, hopefully we shall meet again on one of life's winding roads.

NOVEMBER 27, 2005 - CHICKEN SOUP FOR THE SOUL

1172 days ago

Made some really good one today. Another excellent remedy are fried bananas flambées with rum - dark Martinique rum.

My first "free" week was not that free at all. Kept on doing things, meeting friends, looking for a job on Internet, calling contacts and so on.

Starting tomorrow I am volunteering for the United Nations conference on climate changes. About 7 half days all together, that will keep me busy and allow me to meet more people.

Thursday I went to a conference organized by the Progressist Forces Union (Union des Forces Progressistes), a political party. Anti-globalization and anti-corporations. There was the director of Greenpeace Québec and the director of Équiterre (for a fair trade with less developed countries). Also a manager from Eau Secours, another association for water ressources. I found out so many things, told in funny, interesting way, that I thought my head would explode.

And Friday I went to another kind of talk-show, organized by an independent magazine - Le Couac. More social, economical and political issues, more humour still. The problems will always be there though. Like we say in Romanian: The dogs bark and the caravan passes...because they have the money.

One issue that touched me: the independence of the press. The biggest media group here: Quebecor, owns publishing houses (over 10 I think), several TV channels, radio stations, a cable, telephone and Internet provider, newspapers and magazines. Of course, they provide only the information they choose. And all these channels are promoting each other. Where's the fairness here? Democracy, freedom, rights to information? Most of this discussions stay among closed circles. People that go there are already "in". People outside won't know, or wouldn't be interested, in any case won't realize what's happening. And the world goes round in circles.

So, my head filled with questions, and, alas, even the answers, Saturday I went hiking. In the Eastern Townships. What a fabulous day!

Spent about 5 and a half hours walking in the woods. Lightly snowing, no wind, foggy, but not cold, forest smells. Had a quick packed lunch in a shelter, made fire with wood...got back in the dark. Then jumped in the shower, changed and went for a quiet evening with three of my great girlfriends. Made hot spicy honey sweetened wine for them, the host treated us with some nice snacks and we watched "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" - a truly delightful smart and funny movie. A perfect day!

Now I'm looking forward to work at the conference and see if I get any interviews. Good night!