SALAMANCA, SCHOLAR ELEGANCE AND CHURCHES AS SIGNS OF POWER

If Segovia is dominated by the cathedral and the Alcazar telling a lot about the power of the church and the nobility throughout history, Salamanca is even more religiously overwhelming. There are not one, but three great churches/convents, the cathedral counting actually for two, Romanesque and Gothic built side by side. Playing host to the third oldest university in the world (after Bologna and Oxford), it's all about schools and churches, but also a magnificent Plaza Mayor, a surprising Art Nouveau museum, nice cafés and great food.





























I've seen so many interesting, surprising and unique architectural details, tasted delicious cheap tapas, enjoyed the spring sun at a calmer pace and promised myself I will definitely be back. For this I also have to thank the Mexican friend who graciously offered me shelter and his precious time and knowledge.

Yummy tapas: stuffed eggplant; pimiento del piquillo with cod; mushroom with goat cheese and jamón; zucchini with salmon, cream cheese and dry tomato + beer = 5 Euritos

The famous judiones beans with clams

The University or the Cathedral facade are obvious impressive examples of plateresco, this Spanish style the borders between late Gothic and Renaissance, but what I found most striking were the details and corners of so many buildings: the stairs, the vaults, the cloisters, the chapels. Great XVI century architect Rodrigo Gil de Hontañon (also author of the Segovia cathedral and the University of Alcalá) left behind two palaces: Salina and Monterrey, besides the new Cathedral and the monumental church of San Estebán, also a Dominican convent, that offered shelter and help to Christopher Columbus for quite a few years.

 Calle de la Compañia - one of the most beautiful streets ever

Catedral Nueva

Catedral Vieja amazing tower, looks like a Lord of the Rings fantasy castle

Some of the most stunning stairs I've ever seen, in San Estebán, by Rodrigo Gil de Hontañón

The old walls with the student vibe make an absolutely charming combination, and then there's the river, and the gardens, some impossible to describe chemistry that makes it such a pleasant and relaxing city.

That relaxing:)














A city where I felt comfortable just hanging out and doing nothing but looking around and smiling at the world in awe and gratefulness for my wonderful life, being granted so much freedom and joy. That feeling of looking at life through this kind of windows. Of the Art Nouveau museum eventually.

 Some of those gorgeous architectural details:

 Me in awe in the San Estebán cloister:

 Capitals:

The Sky of Salamanca that decorated once the ceiling of the University library is now hidden in a cloister just across, a few steps away from the hoards of tourists, in a quiet dark room. My sign, Virgo, stands proudly right in the middle.

Plaza de la Libertad is not a tourist highlight, just a picture pretty rectangular quiet square, lined with palm trees, geometrically cut cypresses and terraces, so welcoming and cozy. This charming gentleman was having his coffee (terrible like any coffee in Spain) with a cigar and glass of brandy...classy.

A place of perfect peace: Convento de las Dueñas, there was just another couple of visitors and I felt I could stay there for hours just enjoying the silence of the garden. At the exit there's a small shop where a nun sells traditional cookies homemade in the convent.

 The last image of perfection, Palacio Salina

SPAIN AGAIN, FOR A CHANGE - MUSING ON TRAVELLING, MADRID CULTURAL MARATHON AND MORE

MOVE - It's one of my strongest peremptory needs, if I sit still for too long I get anxious, and confined spaces drive me nuts. This need became evident when I read "Anatomy of Restlessness" by Bruce Chatwin, back in 2000. I understood then that travelling is like an inner call that natural born nomads have to follow in order to keep being themselves. Johnny Walker, keep walking! Even at work I need space, big windows, light, to see the sky and when possible trees to feel comfortable. I started taking lunch walks back in 2006 in Canada, half an hour is for eating, the other half is for moving, walking dramatically improves my well being.

On the other hand I also need a change of landscape, air, language, from time to time, it's like breaking up habits keeps my brain alive, and gives me a sense of freedom. At the same time big metropolitan centers also make me feel uncomfortable, caught between stone or concrete surfaces. I am less and less attracted by the idea of travelling to a city, may that be as fascinating as Berlin or Paris. Besides, they started being so similar, packed with hordes of tourists, crossed by metro lines, filled with Irish pubs, French bakeries and Italian fake restaurants next to horrible fast food or so called gourmet coffee chains. All big cities have a cathedral, national museums and world famous landmarks. I long for wide horizons, green meadows, thick forests and majestic snow capped mountains, surrounding small historical towns or picturesque villages. All with a bit of quiet and solitude, although it's already been said you can't feel lonelier than in the middle of crowds.

So having to take a week off by the beginning of spring I left aside the hypothesis of Amsterdam, Brussels, Lyon or Florence and decided to go to the closest cheapest flight destination: Madrid. Not only it's a big city, but I'm not even fond of it like I am of New York, Paris, Rome or more recently London. I am fond of its liveliness and mix of cultures though and only during this fifth or sixth visit I started to internalize its structure and subtleties, finding my favourite corners. Some of its best features are being reasonably close to Lisboa and playing host to great temporary exhibitions plus a good cultural alternative scene. Last but not least, quite a few friends call it a home and it's nice to see them after wandering all day by myself. Although being by myself didn't mean that I didn't talk to unknown people in the hostel or on the street. It's nice to enjoy all that time and temptations without having to please anyone else and be able to talk to someone around if you feel like, madrileños are quite social and easy going.




I wonder if during any of my former trips I was ever so conscious about how madly I can run all day covering kilometers, with very few and short stops, even to eat or sit down a bit. Why on Earth do I have so much physical energy to spend? Each evening would find me exhausted with my head busting with impressions and memories of the day. I didn't even count the number of exhibitions I visited and I was even scared of my hunger to see and learn more. On every trip I keep learning also about myself and my way of being in the world. At the same time I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that it was also a form of escapism, of running away from my life. So putting this now on paper helps me saving something, giving it a sense.

Since the first day a friend took me to La Tabacalera former cigarette factory, now a cultural centre, and inspired me to take more abstract photos. I started looking around in a different way for the whole week. The way that objects are placed in an exhibition and how people deal with it. Putting out of the context certain parts and play with them. Then there were the social photographs at Caixa Forum, quite an amazing contemporary building . Photographs taken around the less charming nowadays Spain, portraits of guerrilleras from San Salvador or Afghan refugees in Greece next to heartbreaking images of refugees all over the world, especially from Africa and Middle East (Syria and Iraq) with their most prized possession since they left home with very little, could be a buzuk (music instrument), bracelets, a cane, a donkey, whatever gave them comfort on the way.

Later I got enchanted by the amazingly bright rainbow like paintings of Raoul Dufy who wanted to render light through colour, followed by the disquiet harmony and subtle anxiety of Paul Delvaux, both provoking the eyes and the mind in diferent ways.

In between exhibitions I managed to fall in love with the Malasaña and Lavapiés colourful and kind of irreverent neighbourhoods, with the alternative shops and eateries of the first and the multicultural flavour of the second, especially the Mercado de San Fernando and the UNED library that used to be a church.

And when my mind was really crying for some green and some peace I walked along the Manzanares river green path and went to discover also Casa de Campo and Campo del Moro parks.






I couldn't resist paying another visit to Bosch, Goya, Ribera, my Museo del Prado favourites and I also discovered the history of Madrid in the city museum, quite interesting as it explored both its architecture and the social fabric of its inhabitants, customs and habits. Walking into yet another free cultural centre: Casa Encendida, I got acquainted to Colombian Suarez Londoño and his masterful sketch books drawings.

Just before taking the plane, and while looking desperately for a mailbox for my postcards, I managed to find time for the insightful Giacometti exhibition dedicated to the look: El hombre que mira, completed by very inspiring quotes on eye perception of the human body. I was very touched by an apparently simple drawing: an eye looking at a tree, that for me became suddenly the symbol of the wonder of spring.

And to top all this, I went twice to the theatre, as I managed to get a ticket, unbelievably, for Robert Lepage's "Needles and Opium", he's one of my favourite directors hailing from my former home Québec. Then it was an alternative play loosely based on "Fuenteovejuna" by Lope de Vega, that was actually quite weak, although the actors were making quite an effort.


When did I see my friends then? Well, some for lunch and a walk, some for dinner, for a tea, night drinks or an exhibition, or even host me for a couple of nights. It felt great and refreshing to see them and I guess I'll return to Madrid sooner than two years this time.

The Europe without borders, now and then

I got the idea of this brief posting when I saw in the Prado Museum the portrait of Isaac H. Sequiera, made by Thomas Gainsborough, whose doctor he was. Born in Portugal in a Jewish family, he emigrated to Bordeaux and studied medicine in Leyden, Holland, getting to settle in London where the portrait was made.

I found it weird when some people wonder how comes I lived and traveled so much in more than a country. Or when they affirm the world has changed, with this continuous movement beyond borders. Since the antiquity, merchants, scholars, warriors and explorers/adventurers have traveled extensively, looking for either wealth, knowledge or distraction. Artists, monks and mercenaries for instance were very active since the Middle Ages.

A great example is Saint Anthony, known as "of Padua", who was actually born in Lisbon. Even professionals like Dr. Sequiera changed places many times. Not to speak about artists, Caravaggio, Da Vinci, Ribera being but a few. There was no tourism, as we understand it now, traveling without an exact purpose, just for the sake of sightseeing and spending money elsewhere. I guess it's during the XIX century when it became very fashionable for the wealthy classes, especially for people from the Northern European countries to go South to France and Italy, extending later to Spain and Portugal. Not even the Erasmus student exchange programme is such a novelty; when universities were founded there were very few, so people who wanted to study had to travel far for that.

Briefly, the ways to travel changed, but traveling is still the same.

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.

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.

FEBRUARY 2, 06 - EXISTENTIAL BLAH

1105 days ago

I shouldn't read what turns me off... Like "La noia" (The Boredom) by Alberto Moravia. Similar somehow to the "Étranger" of Camus. A guy who's completely detached from life, who finds no purpose in anything, doesn't relate to any object, person or activity. Just before that there were "Le cosmicomiche" (Cosmicomics) by my idol Italo Calvino.

Ouf! I guarantee these are not the best lecture for somebody who's unemployed. Calvino made me feel suspended between the billions of years before and after my life, a dot lost in the infinity of the universe. And Moravia, with his characters deprived of feelings - that's even worse. I started again writing my memoirs of Italy in French, this stimulates me, although nostalgia is hard to bear too.

Not many happenings I have to say. A very good Argentinian movie last Tuesday (Abrazo Partido - Lost Embrace), and on DVD "The Pianist" - Polanski, "Contempt" by Godard (from "Il Disprezzo" by the above Moravia) and "Kadosh" (Sacred) about an archi-Orthodox Jewish community in Israel and its contradictions. A gay friend from France was visiting, so Saturday night we ended up at "Sky" in the Village - the funny gay district. Latin music and queens downstairs, dance music and Québec transexuals upstairs. I find it weird to see a couple of guys dancing salsa. We had fun.

The Art Museum opened an exhibition brought from the Russian Ermitage museum. Catherine the Great (she was German by the way) and her times. Will have to see it next Wednesday. This week-end - German friend international birthday party, "Dracula" musical Québec version (I was invited) and my usual monthly Flamenco show.

Oh, I forgot to mention last Sunday hike on my neighbourhood mountain. It's really cool to have a forest hill right in the middle of the city. People go cross country skiing, snowshoeing, snowtubing and skating. The best part was that I had to do it with my long coat on, I managed to broke the zipper of the short one See the pics.

PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 26 - 28, 2005

1130 days ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NEW YORK, DECEMBER 23-25 2005

1131 days ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

1133 days ago

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NEW YORK - DECEMBER 21, 05

1133 days ago

Everything about New York seems to be big. I didn't mind that about the Metropolitan Museum ("Met"). Started off with the Greek and Roman Antiquity, but didn't stay there for long. I lingered in nostalgia over the Precolumbian art, the Mayans, the Aztecs, the Inca, and other less known people. Also saw an interesting exhibition about the Pacific Marquese Islands and took my time looking at African Art. The Egyptian section was huge, covering all periods. I got all existential looking at statues from 4500 years ago, the catscan (radiography) of a mummy 2700 y old, the monumental statues of the beautiful queen Hatshepsut (dressed up like a man, as she was a pharaoh) the next pharaoh wanted them destroyed as he consider a woman king was a blasphemy...a chair, boat models, animals, all made thousands of years before we started counting time, miniatural or monumental. So why worrying and striving, and getting new cell phones, and new computers? Everything will be just memories...museum objects. All passes, all flows.

The Arms and Armor also captured me, for whatever reason I like blades. Their cold steel beauty, especially the Oriental ones, Arab, Turkish, Japanese, Indian. Daggers and cimitars, the smaller and the sharper - the better. Dangerous jewels.

The Middle Age is also one of my favorite periods, crossing by the Byzantine art I was missing home. I like the pre-Renaissance kind of stiffness and purity, all gothic Virgins and Saints, the miniatural work. The whole section was dominated by a huge Christmas tree, decorated from top to bottom and surrounded by colourful Neapolitan figurines of the Virgin, St. Joseph, the Child, Shepherds and the Three Kings, on elephants and camels. The Naples area is well knows for its beautiful Nativity scenes. Church songs were playing and the whole ambiance was one of a magnificent splendid solemn Christmas.

I wandered around the European Sculpture and Decorative Arts, lots of French rooms - all furnished and decorated, a Swiss one, an Italian cabinet, a Venetian room, a real palace. I find neo classical and baroque rather tedious though, tiring. I was really impressed by a whole Spanish yard though, it even had a couple of trees next to the statues. A couple of statues by Bernini, Canova, more French artists, chinaware by Josiah Wedgwood (beautiful cameo style, on black, blue and green). I was absolutely charmed by the items left from the fire that destroyed the house of Tiffany, the most exquisite lamps and decorative objects designer, as good as Émile Gallé or René Lalique, one of my idols. Two full walls, a stair, a few columns, all in Art Nouveau style.

I ended up all dizzy, going for coffee with B., a nice Hindu writer I met in the Egyptian section, next to the Metternich stella - we started talking about it and decided to have a chat later on. We went to a nice Italian coffee shop he knew on the West side of Central Park.

Then I walked towards the theatre area on Broadway and Times Square, all in huge screens and light ads, looking like Japanese movies. I guess Broadway is more interesting inside.

Walked back home across the Queensboro bridge, with a group of youngsters, talking to Diana, half Jordanian, half Philippino - nice person. Went to pick my cousin up at work and got a lift from a couple of clients (I needed one reeeeeeeeally badly!). They told us they live in the same building as a famous Romanian poet - Nina Cassian.

June 20, 05 - Summer goes on...

1332 days ago

...and off. After the sticky days followed the rainy days. And now it looks like it is finally back on track. And I'm learning to enjoy Canada, I'm finding out ways to be happy without swimming and watching the fish and turtles.

Mum is happy here, we've been walking around quite a lot, up and down Montreal: wine and cheese home meeting my friends, Brasilian restaurant and live music, Old Montreal by night, and the week-end in Ottawa with her highschool friend (and my adoptive mother here .

We went to the Museum of Civilisations, learned a lot about what's really around here: the Haida, Iroquai, Mic Maq, Algonquin, Innu (Eskimo) nations, called politically correct First Nations and not Indians. It's a great place to be, they recreated the whole environment, like theatre or film scenography, and the Haida art is so impressive, similar to the New Zealand Maori one. They lived by the Pacific, in the actual province of British Columbia, and we hear more about the East Coast nations, so it was a real discovery for me. The guys who designed the museum knew their job, they created the building around the concept.

Yesterday we went to Lake Philippe in the Gatineau area, and had a barbecue with the extended family for Father's Day. I went canoeing for the first time and had my first swim here - in a mountain lake. I love water, it lifts up my spirit right away. They say you are what you eat, I should be a shell, a fish or a shrimp then

This week-end we are heading to Quebec City and Tadoussac, where the views are told to be breathtaking and you can even see whales. Before mum leaves we're going to a Tango Flamenco show, all the way from Spain, 25 dancers and musicians on stage.

And the week-end after I'm supposed to go camping and swimming by another lake, provided the weather is good enough.

I'm still not happy with my job, and with such job there's no way I could ever be.

I will have to move again in September, then look for another job, then, probably in January go back to school.

As for romance...I think I still need time by myself to see where I'm standing here. And take it easy, which is far from being in my character, but it becomes mandatory, according to my personal statistics and history. I have plenty of other things to keep me busy or entertained. And I guess from this point of view the Canadian experience might be quite a challenge.