OPENNESS

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

SERENITY

The last few months (since April actually) have been hectic in terms of house and mood changes, mainly due to the job search, but I want this period to touch to an end before I write about it in detail.

Today I took a long walk by the sea, spending one hour sitting in the sun on some deserted rocks and reading from the Book of Psalms. Around me gathered some tiny birds making funny noises. I had one of my  happiness moments, filled with peace and the sensation that everything is perfect the way it is: the caressing warmth and light of the sun, the blue of the sea and the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks, the cute birds and the words in the book. 

During the last few weeks I was asked in a couple of job interviews what motivates me, what makes me wake up in the morning, and both times I answered it is the light of sun, the fact of being alive, a flower, the smile of a child, anything, really. And today there was a real epiphany, we are so affected by all the continuous CHANGES we go through, and try to cling to people, situations and objects, when the one thing that doesn't change is whatever is called CREATION: nature, people, animals. I would add art to it, art is to me the highest expression of the human aspiration to overcome its mortal condition. Every little beautiful detail we can observe and watch with love and care gives us a feeling of fulfillment, if only we were open and softhearted enough. Celebrate LIFE!

PERU - MINDBLOWING DIVERSITY AND HEARTMELTING HOSPITALITY (II Amazonia)

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

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



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







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

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

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



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




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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

PERU - MINDBLOWING DIVERSITY AND HEARTMELTING HOSPITALITY (I, Lima)

When I first saw the Amazon ribbon winding through a sea of green I started to cry. It was a childhood dream, and even more than a dream, because at that tender age I never imagined I could travel so far. It was more like a myth, a legendary land, and when I got there I became a child again, in a bigger, wonderful world.

Peru was such a complete experience, mixing so many different wild life and landscapes with traditional culture, exotic tasty food and most of all beautiful encounters.  I went there for the wedding of a German and Peruvian friend that I knew from my times in Montréal, and also to meet our other friends coming from Canada, one Brazilian and one Swedish. My trips took me to the three main areas of Peru: coastline (Lima), the Andes (Cuzco and Titicaca) and Amazonia (Iquitos), I'm not too sure to which one of them Arequipa and its mountains belongs to. Among others I missed the "real" coastline, like Ica-Nazca and the northern area, with Piura, Trujillo and the adobe city Chan Chan. My Peruvian friend that lives in Italy advised me to avoid the mountains because of the rainy season, but, hey!, was I lucky or what? There was very little rain and it didn't stop me from doing anything I wanted to do. 

My acquaintance with Peru started on the plane with Rocío, a Limeña living in Bilbao, mostly interested in social outings, but clever and full of wit. The people at my first hostel, Red Psycho Llama were kind and knowledgeable, the next day they even shared some refreshing homemade chicha morada with me, made of purple corn. My first encounter with Lima showed me a busy giant city, kind of hot and dusty during the day, with crazy traffic and buses, but still manageable. Like many other enormous urban sites it encloses several cities in one though. With traditional colonial neighbourhoods, sky-scrapers, huge sea cliffs over the Pacific, shantytowns and, most amazing of all, archaeological sites right in the middle of inhabited areas, huacas. 

The one I went to is called Huaca Pucllana, contains some Lima and Wari cultures adobe and clay pyramids and plays host to a few typical plants and animals. In downtown I visited some interesting colonial churches, decorated in sumptuous barrocco style, with bright colored original Andalusian azulejos and garden cloisters. The best was Santo Domingo de Lima, maybe because I managed also to climb to the top of the tower, one of my favourite occupations when I travel, I have this weakness for towers, although sometimes I feel claustrophobic on those narrow stairs. Nearby I saw some older people dancing to a song played by a child, about an abusive father, that was quite impressive, as was seeing all the families walking around in their best Saturday attire. 

Lunch was my first encounter with the real cebiche peruano (I had it before, but on other meridians) and tacu tacu de marisco, a thick tasty mixture of rice and beans soaked in a seafood sauce. In the Caribbean there is a common obsession with rice and beans, probably born from the times of slavery, when it was a filling meal for the Africans working on plantations. In the evening I went to the pre-wedding party in the fancy San Isidro, met my friends and the family of the groom, we danced salsa, drank chicha morada and the fabulous pisco sour. All the guests got souvenirs from the northern coast area where the family is originally from, a colourful fan and a small sculpture of a birds family with the names of the bride and groom, with their little one in the middle. Everyone went out of their way so the guests would have a good time, I felt so pampered and welcomed.

The next day I left for Iquitos, Amazonia, and came back just in time for the wedding. I shared my room with  my really great Swedish friend, an amazing adventure traveler, but also a very caring and considerate person.  We stayed in a beautiful hostel, with flowery terraces and a garden, but that missed the friendliness and warmth of the backpacker one. We didn't get to do much before the wedding, except our nails and having a terrible lunch in the first Chaufa (Chinese-Peruvian) restaurant we found. The ceremony was one of the best I've ever seen, in a German protestant church, celebrated by a woman, whose dress contained traditional Peruvian elements. Loved and joy filled the air and I felt so good that I finally made up my mind and decided to come, against all odds. The party took place in a glamorous private club overlooking the ocean in the fashionable Miraflores and the German sisters (spectacular looking by the way, tall, blond and cheerful) added more fun to the live salsa band with their bride-and-groom social game. 

The day after we (Swedish, three Brazilians and me) went to swim with the sea-lions, just out of Callao, another coast town adjacent to Lima, that hosts also the airport. Besides the fort and a museum you can take a nice stroll along the ocean and meet some local fauna including inca terns, pelicans, and crabs. 

The best part though is the beautiful  boat ride to Isla Palomino that allows you to see more sea birds, like the blue footed booby and the cute Humboldt penguins. The climax comes in the 16C ocean water where you can be 1 meter away from that lovely sea lions, just as curious as you are, keeping though a very small distance. I found it to be one of the most beautiful and amazing experiences of my whole life. Endearing by being so effortless. And we were lucky enough to be the only people in the water, it didn't look like a touristy place at all. The four of us, the guide and about 10.000 sea lions, pups, females, young and older, huge males, some with many scars. We were the ones looking exotic after all.

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.

WISDOM TO ACCEPT

I don't know what lies ahead. I never did. Since I found out I might be released from my functions in Lisbon, Portugal (August, and now it's December), I was extremely restless and anxious, having trouble in falling asleep and then waking up in the middle of the night. And the news came closer and closer, but I kept hoping until I got that fatal message three days ago (well, and a preview  before the week-end, but hope dies last).  I felt the sky was falling upon me. The same feeling you would probably have on a road in the middle of nowhere, not knowing where it goes either. As if you were thrown out of a car in an unknown place. And I remembered all the hard times I've been through starting from scratch in Montreal and Barcelona. Please, please, not again! I switched countries too many times lately, like in some crazy montagne russe or merry-go-round: Canada, Romania, Catalunya, Portugal...stop it now! 

But...wait a minute! This is MY life, the way it comes, with its ups and downs, and this is precisely what I should enjoy, the unexpected, the challenge, the thrill of the unknown. It's pretty unique actually, all these countries, friends and experiences. A real ride, so much to observe, so much to learn, to catch...and to let go. 

The fear actually came from feeling lost. Once I started pinning solutions and alternatives, drawing a plan for tomorrow, I calmed down. Somehow serenity and acceptance grew inside me, when you find yourself in the middle of nowhere on an unknown road all you have to do is keep going, until you get somewhere where you feel like staying for a while. Maybe Lisbon. Maybe somewhere else. Maybe the remaining of my life will be like this, a patchwork of places and experiences, a continous wander. I went to Canada with the idea of staying there, same for Barcelona, and then something showed up that pushed me to keep moving. So let's see, the idea is to go to Bucharest and come back to Lisboa next year. I met some wonderful people here, warm and kind, a beautiful, golden, almost caressing light, especially at sunset time, amazing food, a powerful ocean (a bit cold for my swimming urges). It's somehow nice and quiet. Maybe the place it's here. Maybe not.

JUST BREATHE

A partir de hoy voy escribir en la lengua que hablan mis pensamientos en el momento.

Camino junto al Atlántico, hay una luminosidad especial, que precede o sigue la lluvia, sobre el mar una mezcla de azules y grises claros, debajo el agua como un vidrio verdoso, casi fosforescente, en movimiento. Camino por la ciudad y me siento como ahogándome en mi globo de cristal. Me siento caminando por una pecera, atrapada, incapaz de comunicarme. No hay mañana, hay sólo hoy, implacable, mañana no sé por donde empezar. Como un personaje de Kafka, o como llegar a una estación en medio del campo sin saber cuando llega el próximo tren para llevarte a cualquier otro lugar que se puede nombrar. Mi puesto de trabajo, donde sigo desde febrero, está anunciado oficialmente como disponible para quien quiera presentarse, desde hace dos días. Yo no recibí ninguna noticias, pero sé que vendrá, como sabes que una roca que empezó a deslizarse por la montaña te aplastará si no te apartas de su camino. Siento que ya no puedo respirar hondo. No sé cuando recibiré el aviso para salir de aquí, de la oficina y el apartamento. Otra vez cajas, otra vez en el camino...hacia donde?

Camino y cuando paro, en el tren, o para comer,  continuo leyendo "La viajera" de Karla Suarez, un  libro que sentí que necesitaba leer, tan solo por el nombre que llevaba. La viajera es una mujer que cambió mucha veces de ciudad: La Habana, Sao Paulo, México DF, Madrid, Paris, Roma...y continua. Pretende buscar su Ítaca, porque en ninguna de estas ciudades no se sintió en su casa. Para, respira hondo, siente la ciudad, vive, trabaja, se enamora, hasta tiene un hijo, pero no se queda. Un poco como mi historia, me fui de Montréal porque la ciudad no me hablaba, de vuelta a Bucarest sentí lo mismo, una llamada para irme, y luego en Barcelona estaba bien cuando decidí que valía la pena venir a Lisboa para hacer el trabajo que llevaba tiempo soñando hacer. Y ahora es todo lo que tengo aquí. Y se me despiden, como te deshaces de un trapo viejo, qué? Para donde?

Portugal está mal, España igual, el puesto que dejé en Catalunya se ocupó, quedó libre y volvió a estar ocupado. Bucarest...allí solo tengo a mi familia y a unos pocos amigos, que se vuelven siempre menos. Me imagino en medio de un camino de donde salen otros mil tentáculos, hacia todos los países y las ciudades posibles,  con  todas mis cajas, sin saber como cargar con ellas, ni por donde coger. Cambié demasiados países estos últimos dos años (que ya van para tres), ya no aguanto más.

Nel mezzo del cammin di nostra vita 
mi ritrovai per una selva oscura

ché la diritta via era smarrita.

Ahi quanto a dir qual era è cosa dura

5esta selva selvaggia e aspra e forte

che nel pensier rinova la paura!

Y tiento recordarme como se respira. No entrar en pánico, pensar que hay soluciones, a pesar de estar sola al otro lado de Europa, en la orilla del Atlántico, con tanto horizonte abierto delante que hasta parece irónico. Irme no sería huir y huir y huir, una y otra vez? No sería más sabio tentar de quedarme y echar por fin algo como raíces?