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?

THAT SIMPLE

Balcony dinner: mozzarella di bufala, rucola, pepper and tomato salad

I just baked some zucchini and leek, sprinkled with a little olive oil and Aveiro sea salt, bought on the spot. They're so tasty on their own, I feel there's no need to add anything, not even herbs. Last week I made this very tasty brown lentil stew; again, not much in it, just lentils, onion, bell pepper and carrots, plus some garam masala and cumin, adding lemon and parsley when served. I love simple food. 

Caviar and oysters are expensive because rare, but they're actually not refined food, we gave it this aura of alimentary aristocracy. They are eaten as they come, no cooking or complicated mix of herbs and spices involved. I wish life was that simple. Or maybe it is, and we keep complicating it.

DON'T LEAVE IT TO MY IMAGINATION

    Praia da Amoreira sunset

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"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. 

SKILL AND IMAGINATION

I was struck by the beauty and craft of Daniela Murgia's work, that mixed collage with embroidery, sewing and drawing at the "Ilustrarte" illustration for children Lisbon biennal. I'd love to have one of her books.