WINDS OF CHANGE, THERE'S NO HOME BUT TRAVELING

Tel Aviv  - Yafo

My life simply doesn't want to stand still since I came back from Canada, almost three years ago. It twists and turns like a fish on dry sand, trying to reach back to the water. 

When I was working on cruiseships a  key phrase during emergency drills was "reach your final destination". On the ship it was easy, it meant a little square from where we were supposed to get on life boats or rafts.  But in life on solid ground it looks like my real final destination doesn't want to be found. I finished much less than gloriously my cultural promotion mission in Portugal, on the ground of dramatic political and administrative changes in my motherland. I can't call it homeland as I don't have a home for now, or, again, since I left Canada. Which is also arguable as my rent appartment felt like home, not the country per se. 

After spending Christmas in Bucharest with my beloved mother, sister and brother, plus some extended family members, I went to Israel to end up a conversation. It started in the Madrid subway with an Israeli song author, video-editor and aspiring writer, about a year before and we kept in touch only via Facebook, getting acquainted through our photographs, phrases, likes and dislikes. I decided to take up his invitation to visit a contrasting and controversial country. It was not meant to be a pilgrimage, but I didn't discard the idea of making it part of the whole experience. I was richly rewarded for this decision. I received so much love and positive energy during this trip that I can hardly describe how much it enlightened my mind and my soul.

I don't know if this is the Holy Land...all land is holy, as long as people don't spoil it with their changes. I felt amazingly in the desert, on the shore of the Kinneret Lake (Sea of Galilee) or in the Ein Gedi Park.

Lake Kinneret

Judean desert

And I met amazing people, that treated me with such effortless genuine kindness that I am still in awe, regardless of being Israeli or Palestinian,  religious or not, Christian, Jewish or Muslim . This trip above all restored my trust in the human race. Especially that I was in conflictive area, and I expected the inhabitants to be more nervous and impatient. It was a real life lesson, about the beauty of nature and the human kind. It's hard to explain, but I felt pure unconditional love flowing towards me.So in these terms I would advise anyone to go there, regardless also of their nationality or faith. 

I deeply appreciated the cosmopolitan vibe of Tel Aviv, its colourful market, white beaches and modern looking leisure port. Here and there one can see interesting Bauhaus buildings and wander on Rotschild Boulevard or hang out in lively neighbourhoods like Neve Tzedek, Sheinkin street or Florentin. I was very  lucky to have such good hosts there. 

And so was I in Bethlehem, on the Palestinian side of the story, spending time with a Christian family and taking a day trip around with a Muslim taxi driver and tour guide, a former history and geography teacher. I saw bedouins on donkeys and horses, a desert monastery, the Shepherds' Field, Solomon's Pools and the ruins of a Herode's palace in a record time, with a great guide, who spoke decent English and knew plenty of stories. The Nativity church is simply beautiful but really rundown, and most visitors were paying less attention to its beauty and more to the basement stone were Jesus was supposed to be born. I was shocked to see the caretaker washing the Byzantine mosaics with a dirty mop. But I guess this is as much as they have. Life is far from being easy there, but smiles are for free. 

Then there is Jerusalem, with its confusing old city, made of the Muslim, Christian, Jewish and Armenian Quarter. A true 1001 nights experience, especially on the market (souk) streets, some shops look like Ali Baba caves and you can sample many delights of the Middle Eastern exotic and flavourful world. I had a hard time getting the Christian vibe of the place, except for the hundreds of pilgrims that insisted in living in their own pious bubble. The churches were assaulted by hordes of passionate Christians, clicking desperately on their phones and cameras button, like there was no tomorrow. The next best thing to do was to touch whatever stone or image was supposed to be the holiest of the place: where Jesus died, wept, stepped, where Mary was born, were Mary died, etc., like on a freaking film set. No corner to recollect and reconnect, which for me gives sense to a pilgrimage. Most cathedrals show signs of their impressive age, old grey smoky walls with hardly any signs of painting, old icons and beautiful ancient lamps. My biggest frustration was not seeing the so called Dome of the Rock big mosque, an ancient piece of pure architectural beauty. On Friday and Saturday it is closed to non-Muslims.

The newer Israelian side also hosts a bustling market, Mahane Yehuda, full of goodies of all kinds and a central fun zone, with pedestrian streets and nice hang out coffee shops and bars. I had no time for museums, but for a first visit I think I had plenty on my plate. 

To me though the best experiences were the moments I spent out of the cities: Kinneret Lake, Judean desert (old Mar Saba monastery), the Ein Gedi oasis and national park, the Dead Sea shore, the Massada ruins. Nature is a gift of God to the humans troubled soul and restless mind.

"AND FEAR SHALL HAVE NO DOMINION"

Sintra road

There is a road and there is fog ahead, all you know is that you have to keep going and sometime just let things happen to you.

The wisest thing to do when you cannot interfere with the circumstances is to keep calm. A long long time ago a Sri-Lankian bookstore owner, brother of a parliament delegate who came to Romania, gave me a simple Buddhist book: "How to live without fear and worry". The main idea is that we should not fear nor worry when confronted to a problem. Because if there is anything in our power to change the circumstances, then why worrying, we should just start acting. If there is nothing we can do, worrying wouldn't help anyway. 

I am a type of control freak, I like to plan ahead of time and tend to worry and get anxious if plans change and things happen in a different way. It doesn't mean that I am not spontaneous, but I tend to hope that things will happen the way I imagine them and I get disappointed when reality doesn't match my imagination and high hopes. This leaves little place for the unexpected, so every news that may have a negative impact puzzles and paralyze me with fear. Every time this happens I have to learn to deal with it, overcome my worrying and the fear and keep living the present moment as if those news never came, at least until their threat becomes a concrete evidence.

After a few days of agonizing anxiety my heart finally found the answer: let it happen, let everything happen, accept it, let it flow through you, then you'll see what needs to be done, without getting too much involved. Keep detached. Accept, with great serenity and light at heart. And the road will unfold, although the fog won't let you see the end of it. 

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.

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.

Tourist 2.0

Barcelona beyond Sagrada Familia, Ramblas, Parc Guell, Mila and Batllo houses.

Monasterio de Pedralbes




Hospital de Sant Pau i Santa Creu, by my favourite architect, Lluis Domenech i Montaner



Sarria neighbourhood, under Tibidabo - former hotel, former clinic, possibly a future office building



Teatre Grec garden with some nice neighbourhood people who just came to play and sing some rumba catalana and flamenco, a sunny Sunday afternoon

SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL

Not only I will be going to New York this week-end and my dear friend Jane is hosting us in a great area of Manhattan, but I got a very nice unexpected gift, in the shape of a blue dragon.

I saw my first play by Robert Lepage - Le Projet Andersen, three years ago, and I wrote a small reader comment in the cultural weekly Voir :

Identité et solitude (tous différents, tous égaux)

Tout d'abord je suis allée voir Robert Lepage sans préjugés, pour la simple raison que je ne le connaissais pas. J'ai vu la pièce en tant que roumaine résidente au Québec, francophone et amoureuse du théâtre et d'Andersen depuis petite. Ouverte à tout. J'ai été d'abord fascinée par la magistrale mise-en-scène, les trouvailles, la technique, la fantaisie débordante doublée par l'esprit pratique capable de trouver les solutions. Puis par la versatilité de l'acteur, qui passe d'une peau et d'un accent à l'autre, qui émerveille, amuse et attendrit, qui joue le Québécois, le Français, le "Beurre" exilé.

Mais ce qui m'a touché le plus a été le but, l'artiste a deployé tous ses charmes pour nous parler de la SOLITUDE, car c'était elle le personnage principal, ni Frédéric, ni Andersen. C'est vrai, mon cher conteur danois ne comptait pas beaucoup dans l'économie du spectacle, ce qui n'empêche pas l'oeuvre théâtrale d'être valide. On intéragit tellement plus de nos jours et communique tellement moins. On se replie sur soi-même, voilà le vrai sens de la masturbation répétitive - l'incapacité de communiquer, de s'ouvrir aux autres et se donner. Si ça effleure Andersen et sa solitude - tant mieux. J'aime le résultat final. Le titre est "Projet Andersen", pas "Andersen - 150 ans après".

A côté des brillantes parodies sur le discours québécois ou européen - car les danois ou les anglais ne sont pas épargnés, sur la necessité du psychologue dans nos petites vies qui manquent de débouchés, sur les relations toujours plus tendues et hypocrites (le thème du refus de la paternité - débattue dans Horloge biologique) - reste la question, que fait-on de notre solitude? Autant lui donner un sens créatif à la place de nous enfermer dans une cabine de peep-show.

J'ai eu l'occasion de voir sur scène Sir Ian McKellen avec la Royal Shakespeare Company, Cheek by Jowl de Londres, l'Odéon de Paris, du théâtre italien...bravo au théâtre québécois et à Robert Lepage, j'en suis ravie.

The Théâtre du Nouveau Monde is showing Le Dragon bleu throughout May, but two months ago when I called it was already sold out. Quite disappointed I was still happy that I could buy tickets for another show: Eonnagata is the ballet-theatre Robert Lepage directed with contemporary dance myths Russell Maliphant and Sylvie Guillem, a sublime interpretation of the Chevalier d'Eon story in a Japanese key, presented within the Festival Trans-Amérique (exceptional dance and theatre from around the world for very accessible prices).

Looking for video excerpts of Eonnagata, I found the official site of Robert Lepage's company and it occured to me to write to them and tell my disappointment of not being able to buy my tickets for Le Dragon Bleu. I also sent my three years old comment and I mentioned that I am going to the FTA show.

And abracadabra, hocus-pocus, bum badabum...I got an answer the same day offering me two tickets for next Tuesday. As simple as that. Because they care about their public and people that do care about being in that room. I think it's fantastic, and a reason of pure joy.

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.

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.

Three Beautiful Gifts Today - March 10, 05

1434 days ago

Guess what? After I finished the 3000 letters message, I erased it by mistake! Here I go again.

Today I was waiting for a phonecall (since Monday, actually). It didn't come, last Saturday an "ex" said we should meet, but...I don't know why people say they would do things without doing them. Just hearing themselves saying it, makes them feel as if it was done I guess. I thought I was over this ooold love story, and we could be friends here in Montreal, but his carelessness sadens me. He calls once a month or less, pretending he cares. I never call him, pretending I don't care. Are we even?

Anyhow, three friends of mine sent me three great gifts:

1) My super smart long distance friend Cristina, wrote to me saying the poems I sent her are from the heart and she was touched reading them. She told me I actually write poetry. Knowing how sensitive, intelligent and cultured she is, I felt like getting a prize. Because she's right, the ultimate sense of poetry is to move people, no matter what the critics say.

2) Sniezana, from Split, Croatia, sent me another message, describing a dream she had: "I had a dream last night that I was in the church, the most beautiful one that I've ever seen. This church is on the top of tiny little island with the view on the sea all around and with stone graveyard in front of it. Church itself is small, built with white stone, like a lighthouse on this island. And I found God in communication among the nature, me, islanders, the dead, the sea, the stone, the cypress and the sky. The God was made of us all together, never so real, so clear, so close, so there and nowhere else at that precise moment..." This is so much in line with what I felt in the Caribbean, or the Danube Delta, with what I'm reading (Parintele Staniloae) and thinking, that I felt as if Sniezana was here and I was hugging her. We actually spent only September 2001 on the same ship, but managed to keep in touch, looking at the world through the same window.

3) Getting home around midnight I found a white thick paper envelope, containing a CD from my trio of friends, jazz players from New Zealand: Manta Ray - Steve, Tim and Pieter. Steve sent it to me from San Diego, California, being still on some ship. We were on the same floating colourful plastic tincan MacDonalds, called Carnival cruiseship, for 3 months in summer 2003 and from April until July 2004. The jazz on the CD has a strong Latin vibe and #13 bears my name: Antoaneta. It is a strong playful, dynamic tune, changing rythms, very Latin, I can actually see myself as a song listening to it. It brought tears to my eyes. It is the most beautiful gift somebody can get...and there are no money in any bank to buy this.

See, to some people it may seem my day was a dull one: home - metro - work - metro - home. But those three gifts filled my mind with so many thoughts, my heart with so many feelings, that my day got rich