Monday, December 23, 2024

No, You Are Not Welcome, 2024!

I have always hated leap years! With a passion ... 

They roll in like an unruly teenager, full of pluck and insolence, trashing your house, your car, and emptying out your bank account before they take off into the sunset never to be found with your whole life in shambles behind!  There is no reasoning with them and nothing to do but step aside, let the damage unfold and hope it passes. Because you know, we are told that everything has an ending. Even the tragedies ... 


2024 was much like all the other leap years that have passed over me. Maybe it’s because it’s the most recent, but this one really left a mark! I feel exhausted and totally uninterested in what is next, if you can believe it ... Me, the nosiest, most curious person you know - couldn't care less about what comes next! Because this year has taught me: “don’t ever ask: what else?!” - because to you that’s a rhetorical question, but to life, that’s a challenge! 



This has been a year spent under the watchful eye of the cardinals, announcer of bad news but promise holders of happy endings, too. They greeted us every morning in our back yard and bid us 'good night' almost every evening.
At one point, a whole Vatican of cardinals flew over our heads during one of our walks, and then we knew we were going to be in for an interesting one ... 


In a (large) nutshell, this is about as well as I’d summarize this year (and you’d need a long drink if you dare be here for the whole thing): 


In January, mom collapsed alone, in our home in Romania, and was in a coma for some number of days ... We had family and friends gather around her to care for her around the clock after that. The ER doctor wrote to us that she can never be left alone for the remainder of her days.  


In February, mom collapsed to her second coma, this time with a very severe case of sepsis. Her doctor urged us to come back to Romania, because she was not sure she would come out of it. But mom is like a cat with about 10,000 lives so she did come out of it. Damaged, and weak, never to be herself again, but she survived it. 


March gutted me! It asked me to make the hardest decision I have made in my entire 49 years of life. It was time to find a place for mom. Even if the family lived with her, we were urged that her mental state and her health is too precarious to be at home. 


You know those idyllic commercials for “A place for mom”? They are all a bogus bunch of nonsense! No place, no matter how polished and advertised in slow motion with plenty of light and smiles is ever as good, as loving, as safe as you would want it to be for those you love. It was like someone was pulling my heart out of my chest with no anesthesia and promising me this is for the best reasons and it’ll be good! I didn’t see it. I never saw it. And for me to make this decision the week of Mother’s Day, it was just cruel! I kept asking why? What have I done? Who have I wronged to be asked to make this decision for the woman who gave her all to have me ...?


As my personal life was in this much turmoil, the world was stewing with bad news, as well. March was the month that reinstated Putin (after a rigged election) as the president of Russia - all while the world shuddered, and all but a feeble reminder of what we’re headed towards! 


In April, I tried really hard to start some semblance of a healing process ... I came back home after the hardest, most cruel month in Romania and I looked for ways to lick my wounds and heal ... We went up North to be with my sister for my birthday. Watching the total solar eclipse together put some things into perspective: when something makes you feel that small, you realize your woes are only infinitesimal on the firmament of life and the universe ... Aa. and I then headed South, to Florida, to learn more about how to advocate for Homozygous FH - the genetic disease that both my parents so generously gave to me and my sister ... I learned of new ways to help the world live with this sometimes invisible and cruel disease. You know what a smart man once said: when everything falls apart around you, look for the helpers ... I try to do that: be a helper to whomever might need me ... 



The solar eclipse on April 8, 2024 - Montreal, QC


May continued with this year’s streak of pain: mom was rushed into the ER for the third or maybe fourth time this year (in five months!). This time with pleurisy. This on top of her lung cancer and COPD, of course ... May was a touch-and-go month for her - several visits to the hospital for lung fluid punctures, a tooth infection and more complications ... The little bit of diversion we had here (a trip to the mountains on Memorial Day weekend) was always accompanied by long all-night calls with Romania to coordinate mom’s care and with my sister who was there for Easter, trying to be there for her in spirit while she handled mom on the ground through the ups and downs... 


The world continued to boil over, as the prime minister of Slovakia was assassinated in May. Trump is formally convicted of a crime the same month - the first former president to do so. In May, we also lost the Greensboro News and Record’s building, the place where Aa. and I met in 2007 - as it was torn down by bulldozers in Greensboro, NC. There is nothing that reminds you how transitory we all are more than watching something once standing proud as a beacon of truth turn to rubble. 


June was another touch and go month for mom. She went to the hospital for a week to undergo a procedure for her lungs that would hopefully prevent her from ever building up fluid again. We spoke every day, as we normally do ... and she begged us daily to take her out of the hospital - but it was not possible ... A few weeks after being released she had to be rushed into ER again because her operation stitches had become infected. How’s that for adding insult to injury?! With every painful breath she takes, I feel a pang of pain in my side. But I must keep going. For me, for my family, for her. 


July seemed that we were well enough to try to sneak in a bit of a bright spot, as we took some time for ourselves: we flew to Chicago (my first time) and then we visited with Aa.’s mom for July 4th in Michigan . But then, shortly after we came home, while we were at a baseball game in Greensboro, NC, then former president Trump is shot in the head, in an assassination attempt in Pennsylvania. About 5 days after that the world is back to normal, with the story barely in the headlines anymore. Whatever your stance on the matter or the person shot here, what kind of a world do we live in where an assassination attempt is just normal?! The whole event made me feel dirty for being human, really! 



The timeless Chicago and its "Bean"


President Biden announces he is stepping down from the race to the White House in the fall and is making room for Kamala Harris to replace him. This is also in July, 4 months before the elections. I don’t think this country has ever been more divided and thrown into confusion before as it is now - but of course I was not here for The Civil War and for the 60’s ... It’s like: just when you thought you got your balance this year, here’s another punch in the gut! 


And even worse news came from people much closer to my heart: my best friend’s mom dies at 70 from complications of lung disease. The streak of sadness would not let up this year, I figured, by this point ... But I stopped counting a long time before then ...

August came roaring with another piece of bad news from home: my only aunt also moved into an assisted living home after making the decision that she can no longer care for herself either ... On the backdrop of my family just falling apart this year, I didn’t want to be anywhere for my sister’s birthday in August but with her. So, we surprised her with the only surprise I have been known to successfully accomplish in my life when we showed up at a restaurant in Boston for her birthday dinner ... Everyone that knows me knows that 1. I hate surprises and 2. I am just about the most predictable person you’ll ever meet. For me to pull this one off successfully was an accomplishment of a lifetime. But we needed each other, my sister and I ... She gave me some much needed strength for my April birthday when I got to go up there and spend it with her, that I just wanted to give her that gift in return. I hope she felt the same as I did in April ... 



The JFK Library in Boston, MA


September was another bleak month. One of my sister’s best friends from work passes incredibly young with two small children after a short and cruel battle with cancer. My former philosophy teacher dies in his 70’s from many complications from a stroke he had over a year before. My aunt is sent to the ER from the assisted living facility with respiratory block caused by her heart condition. 


On this backdrop, I fly to Romania to spend mom’s 71st birthday with her. Her birthday was a bright spot during that trip, as she got to come out of the place she is in and have lunch at her favorite restaurant. As I was trying to leave my home town, at night, the Tarom (Romanian airline) could not find my ticket for the flight out of there. I was livid. Their own app showed the confirmed ticket, the app where I bought the ticket showed it, too, but the check-in agent said a passenger by my name does not exist on his flight and the flight was full so they could not just give me a seat. Huge scare, but averted because they had ONE person NOT show up so after check-in was closed, they snuck me in at the insistence of my uncle who is a retired Tarom official. Glad that the universal “knowing people in the right places” still works sometimes. Also in September, Trump manages to survive another assassination plot - this time averted with no shots fired. September also brings unprecedented weather to North Carolina, too, and absolutely trashes the West (yes, not the ocean-front East) part of the state, the mountains, after the passing of Hurricane Helene. 


And just because pain gets lonely and needs injury for companionship, I test positive for Covid in October. Yes, folks, this is still something real and this is still going around! North Korea ships 10,000 troops to fight in the Russia war in Ukraine, while the US lifts all restrictions on how the Ukrainians can use the arms and ammunition that they bought from America. I am not even brave enough to imagine what kind of world we would wake up to the following morning - every morning ... This feels like the ultimate straw. Except it is not ... 


On a personal level, I meet with a new vascular surgeon for an update on my abdominal aorta and he pretty much waves me off that I am OK, when the CT scan he ordered and never reads shows the status of my aortic stenoses is worsening. I am used to medical doors slamming in my face, but it’s especially hurtful when you know the situation is worse ... The fight continues, I can tell you that much! 


We all know what November brought at a national and even international level ... It brought a new (old) president to the US for the next four years. Everyone I know is mad or sad about this - regardless of what side of the fence they both stubbornly hug! Some people are mad at the result, some people are mad at the loss of identity of one party, some people are mad because they lost friends and even broken up families in the process. The vitriol and hatred continues to boil as the world seems to  continue to not figure this out at all, but instead, to dig us all into a deeper grave. 


My mom’s last living aunt was hospitalized (she is 86) with a ruptured large intestine in November, as well,  and has been very slowly healing with several complications for over a month now. She is now bed-ridden and without a clear future yet. 


To get away from it all, Aa. and I decide to take a bucket-list trip to follow the sites of the Twin Peaks series in the Pacific Northwest. It was a trip much like a Lynch movie: part mystery, part dream, and all real ... I need a whole book to document this as one paragraph would not do it justice. 



My happy place: Kiana Lodge in Washington State - filming location for Twin Peaks


The pay-back for having a breather came when we got back, when we had a small cancer scare that ended up being benign right here, in our home ... But sigh of relief on this one for now! Then, also in November, the same out-of-control political nightmare that threw America into chaos earlier in the month repeated the feat in the Romanian elections. Foreign interference, social media manipulation, and all other means of political corruption thwarted an otherwise free election to cause it to be canceled by the Constitutional Court - an unprecedented event in Romanian history. But this is how leap years roll, I tell ya! Remember 2020?! 


December rolled in with a bang. Quite literally, when the CEO of UnitedHealthcare was assassinated in New York. It feels some days like this country sees only two solutions for every problem anymore: a lawyer, or a gun. Nothing besides or in-between. 


Aa.’s closest friend’s wife spent most of this month in the hospital between this world and the next one (including during her birthday), and another one of my best friends broke her leg in New York at the end of November. This left both these women out of commission at this time of the year - either in bed or in a wheelchair ... Pain and sickness is emotionally contagious, so we cry and mourn and suffer with those we love, here and far ... And always, always feel helpless. 


All of late fall, early winter has been peppered with more international instability and bad news: from the war in Israel that’s spilling into several other Middle Eastern countries, to the fall of the Assad regime in Syria, to the second collapse of the French government and the turmoil of Canada, and of course, through the long, bloody, and painful war in Ukraine which is next door to my other “home” - miles from my home town in fact ... it feels like this Titanic is flooded and going down fast ... 


And now, as I write this, I am getting ready for my third trip this year to Romania to be with mom, my aunt, and briefly with my sister and nephews for a few days ... I am even scared to put that foot down outside my front door and start this journey, but life has always taught me that hiding is how evil wins! So onward is the only way ... 


This was the least productive year for me, literary-wise ... I felt no desire to write, no reason to do it, it all seemed useless and futile. I also probably read the least, because I cannot focus enough to go through a book. Not really ... 


There have been some (not many, but a couple or five) bright spots this year that made the going easier, at times - and for that I am so grateful, of course ... 


Despite the sadness and the back-paddling, besides the aging and the sense of loss, this is also the year when we saw Bob Dylan and Alanis Morrisette. The year that I followed in the footsteps of David Lynch, one of my brilliant guiding minds. As technology and science are still advancing, this was a year of partaking more of their new offerings for a better, more efficient life; the year when I finally found a more stable (albeit painfully expensive) cure for my HoFH (the only thing that ever truly worked for me - a new once a month infusion called Evkeeza thanks to medical discoveries). I am grateful that the world still innovates despite all the calls to the contrary. Or maybe it does because of it ... 


It was the year I saw a full, total solar eclipse, the Aurora Borealis and a comet - all in the span for 3-4 months. The year I saw the most architecturally beautiful city that I have ever seen (Chicago) and the year I met up with a long-lost friend from way back in high school that happens to live in the Pacific Northwest. Through some kind of a blessing, he and his wife were available to meet us on our Twin Peaks tour. I don’t like surprises, but this was one of my favorites, to be sure.



Above the clouds: Mount Rainier, WA - challenging us to always reach higher


Unrelated to the leap year, as I get older, I am finding out with every year that I have fewer and fewer friends ... Especially in times like these, where you feel like you’re barely hovering over the abyss, I have felt most of my “friends” drift away. I am sure everyone is busy handling their own tragedies, perhaps, so I am not too bitter about that. But it does get quieter and quieter in the friends zone for us ... I have no judgement to add. It’s an observation, and nothing besides. 


The people we did get to see and spend time with this year, whether in good times or bad, were God-sends. They made the journey more manageable by sharing the load. For that I am forever grateful. Even those we cared for in sickness and even those who had sadness of their own were a welcome balm, to be able to share their sorrow as much as they shared ours ... To them all, I owe the lessons I have learned and the energy that I have to keep going ...


Everything does have an ending and so will this wretched year. Good or bad, much more sad and painful than light and joyful for sure, it is part of my life. Like any link in the chain - the whole life would not make sense without it in it. I am changed. I am morphed into whoever this new person is now. I feel in my body like I am still 10, but in my heart and my mind, I feel 120. Don’t even dare look in the mirror ... Most days I am scared of what stares back at me - this scared mouse, afraid for her and her loved ones’ life, with only a glimmer of what used to be hope in her eyes. I am not too convinced the actual hope is indeed still there most days ... 


But ... at the end ... we don’t want evil and sadness and death to win. At the end, as long as there is breath, we move on ... At the end - always remember: tragedies are not endless ...


Now for the next year, the only promise I am making is this: I will work the hardest and the most diligently that I have ever worked to see that there is a next year and a next 50, even. 


Happy new one, all! I hope we all meet again after the threshold - braver, stronger, and readier ... 


(Photo from the Londolozi reserve - South Africa)


Thursday, November 21, 2024

After Two Years

I miss his smile the most. He always smiled, he always had a joke cooking up about anything that was happening around him. I miss his jokes like I would miss air if it were sucked out into the ether...


Especially given the current situation in the world - I miss his jokes the most. He always knew history and politics, he always warned us against the tragedy of the world led by incompetence and corruption, but he also always made us laugh when things were tough. We had our own stand-up comedian and political analyst. 


I miss his chubby, soft, small hands, like small pillows ... I can picture them cutting cold meats and carefully arranging them on beautiful platters...


I miss watching him making mayo, carefully folding the oil into the eggs, tip of his tongue sticking out through his front teeth, focusing, ever so focused ... Raising an eyebrow...


I miss him playing the air guitar when CCR or The Beatles would come on the radio ... 


I miss his soft, beautiful, deer-like eyes looking onto us, his girls, or his baby grandsons ... 


I miss him when he was happy and I miss him when he was angry ... I always told him I can’t take him seriously when he’s angry, because his face was stuck in a kind, compassionate stare, no matter his mood ... 


I miss seeing him hugging my mom, and she fighting him off with a shrug ... Him, pretending to cry because nobody loves him ...


I miss his meows when he was hungry ... I miss him scolding us that there is nothing to eat in the house, with two fridges loaded with goods - loaded so heavily there was no room for a pack of butter on any of the shelves. 


I miss his voice - soft and loving ... I miss his style - always put together and always dressed for every occasion ... He always taught us to dress up appropriately, even if it were around the house ... 


I am sad about all the birthdays we missed and all the Christmases we didn’t spend together ... I am sad I didn’t get to talk with him in person one more time before he left us forever ... as he was in a coma when I saw him last ... 


It’s been two years today since that last day I saw him, handsome and peaceful, but hooked up to machines that breathed and heart-beat for him.... The hardest, most painful, most lonely, most excruciatingly gut-wrenching two years of my life ... I wish for him to come back and fix it all. Fix us. He left us broken and we got worse ... 


This is how I always want to remember him ... goofy, carefree and happy, young and always smiling ... Sweet sleep, sweet dad ... Thank you for the memories - most often than not they are the only thing that keeps me going ...  



Before he was a dad or a husband, even, cca 1973 (he almost never tagged his negatives or pictures, so I can only guess)



Friday, September 20, 2024

71 de toamne

Cu tine în minte pășim împreună în cel de-al 71-lea an al vieÈ›ii tale ... Cu tine de mână mă îndrept înspre ziua de maine. Cu speranță, cu dorinÈ›a fierbinte de mai bine, de mai uÈ™or ... 

De ziua ta mă coplesesc amintirile. Bucuria imensă pe care È›i-o aducea fiecare concediu la mare.  Bucatele minunate pe care le pregăteai la sfârÈ™itul fiecărei zile (abia aÈ™teptam să deschizi seara uÈ™a de la camera noastră să ne întrebi “Cartofi prăjiÈ›i? Sau piure?”). Plimbările pe faleza de la ConstanÈ›a - la deal È™i la vale pană se întuneca de-a dreptul È™i nu mai vedeam marea, doar îi auzeam ecoul ... 


Mereu am iubit gropiÈ›ele din obrajii tăi slăbuÈ›i, È™i ochii tăi minunaÈ›i în care se deschide parcă tot cerul ... Am iubit întotdeauna dragostea ta de adevăr, dreptatea, È™i directitudinea È™i onestitatea desăvârÈ™ite. Am iubit până È™i cicatricea ta adâncă de pe piept - în secret îmi doream È™i eu una È™i pană la urma viaÈ›a mi-a daruit-o È™i mie. Un semn de durere dar È™i de tărie ... 


Mi-aduc aminte ce multă fericire îți aducea tata È™i ce imensă era dragostea dintre voi, chiar È™i în zilele cele mai grele ... Mi-aduc aminte de mulÈ›i ani frumoÈ™i, de seri în familie unde urmăream cu toÈ›ii vreun serial sau când jucam cu toÈ›ii Rummy sau tu cu tata, table ... ViaÈ›a era grea în afară, dar uÈ™oară între noi, pentru că apropierea È™i dragostea erau mari ... Asta È›in cu mine, în inimă cât voi trăi! 



Când viaÈ›a era mai uÈ™oară, poate, 
și poate fără prea multe griji ...

Trăiesc din amintirile astea zilnic È™i nu-mi doresc nimic mai mult decât să ne ofere viaÈ›a în continuare oportunități în care să ne facem altele, noi amintiri, din capitole noi care ni se deschid abia de acum înainte. 


Te iubesc, mama, mai mult decât orice cuvânt din orice limbă poate să descrie. Mi-ai dat onestitatea È™i puterea ta, chiar dacă nu mi-ai dat gropitele È™i nici culoarea ochilor. Te iubim cu toÈ›ii È™i vrem să ne trăieÈ™ti sănătoasă È™i fără griji în continuare ... 


La mulÈ›i ani sănătoÈ™i, cu putere È™i uÈ™urință ... 


Saturday, September 07, 2024

Random Lessons From a Trip to the Old Country

This is one of those travelogs where things are not necessarily connected outside the fact that they all happened in one trip. 


This time, it was yet another “family/ work” trip and not a fun trip, but fun is something you make on the go and not something you always plan for ... There are some lessons here as well, as travels are always the greatest teachers ... You jump on a plane, or in a car or bus (or in an Uber cab nowadays)  and you learn so much more than any book or any documentary can teach you at home ... 


So, hop on alongside me and find out the juicy details of my latest trip back to the Old Country ... 


On an Austrian Airlines flight you learn that Germans cannot veer off a script to help their lives. On any American flight I have ever been on, if you are asleep and they come by with treats or food, they happily skip you. They do not wake you up. On our long flight from Newark to Vienna, they come and drop the snack packs and napkins in your lap. Some are falling on the floor, some are startling the passenger who is in no mood for eating anyway and ends up storing the snack in the pocket of the seat in front of them - at any rate, a waste ... When they brought over the full-blown dinner, they expanded the tray tables themselves with people still asleep to put the trays in front of sleeping people ... I guess they have 300 food servings and they absolutely must disperse 300 food servings. They cannot operate any other way that would be deemed “out of pattern”... 


Also, on an Austrian Airline flight from America: 

Flight attendant: Would you like some wine? 

Passenger: Yes, please. Red. 

Flight attendant: Would you like some water in your wine? 

Passenger, puzzled: Umm .... nope ... 


In America, no one ever would even consider “spoiling” the wine with water. In Europe, we almost always drink wine with water. Americans are purists. Except when it comes to cocktails and then the sky's the limit.

Once in Iasi, my hometown, I notice things that bring me home


On a commemorative plaque on a historic building in Iasi, a quote that seems appropriate for my trip: “We were given suffering so we can speak the truth.”(original: “Ni s-a dat suferinta ca sa spunem adevarul.”) (Iosif Sava)


I noticed a lot more street music players this time around in Iasi. Sure, they want to get paid but some of them were rather good. This particular guy was playing the guitar and singing a la Victor Socaciu (a famous Romanian  troubadour)  in front of the Trei Ierarhi cathedral in the city center. The lyrics stuck with me because they spoke so loudly to my life now: “si te iubesc cu groaza si cu mila”, meaning, “I love you in awe and with so much mercy”. This is me and mom right now. 


The most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me, and the most beautiful thing my mom has ever told me was on March 8, which is International Women’s Day: we were both lying in bed, next to each other. She started caressing my cheek and said: “You are way too beautiful to be my daughter ... “. I teared up and told her “I am beautiful because I am your daughter. I am beautiful because you are my mom and you gave me your beauty.” 


Outside of the oncology hospital, and all around it, in the yard, and the streets adjacent to it, I could not help but notice tons of patients in their pj’s, in the cold, gray days of February, smoking. Such an oxymoron, or maybe a clear explanation of the place ... 


I could write a separate blog, or even a short book about my experience in Uber cars. They could be quite the character builder and quite the character study. A few snippets: 


  • March 8th will remain in my calendar as the day when I traveled with an Uber driver in Iasi, Romania that did not have music blasting in his car. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. It was truly eerie. Usually, you can’t hear yourself think from music shaking the car windows. They never ask permission and they never ask whether the music is to your liking or too loud. And you don’t dare ask.  I tried really hard not to feel guilty during this particular trip, since it was only like a 7 minute ride but I failed. On second thought, I am not sure I would qualify for “this new generation”, either ... 
  • Soliloquy of an Uber driver in my home town of Iasi: I don’t get it with young people nowadays - they ride the Uber and then they complain that they’re fat and need a gym membership!! Well, stop being lazy and walk and you won’t need the gym! But this is why they want such high salaries to have money for their gym and their Uber. They want big salaries, they’re not happy with the salaries, they go outside (the country) for their jobs. I am not sure who’ll be working to pay for our retirement anymore. But ... that’s this new generation for you!! 
  • Another Uber driver while we stop at an intersection next-door to a cafe. We are very clearly looking at a  prostitute with her pimp having coffee and smoking on the patio of the cafe, when the driver muses out loud: You can totally see their ... umm... ‘relationship’. As a man I never understood how you can stoop so low to have a woman make you look handsome and well-dressed like that with what she earns. He would be nothing without her. How can he accept such a relationship and be kept with the money earned that way? I don’t get it! Where is his pride?! 
  • In general, Romanian drivers are angry. I know because I am one, and I am the daughter of one. Romanian Uber drivers, though, are a special brand of angry. I am not sure whether I should be grateful that they are trying with all their might (through expletives, sudden acceleration followed by sudden dead-stops, and abundant honking) to get me to my destination faster, or I should rate them poorly for having an attitude or an anger management problem.
  • Not sure why but I find that Uber drivers, at least in Europe (this happened several times in Iasi, but it also happened in Vienna a few years back) love to talk politics. I mean, politics in America are taboo. Not in Europe. And definitely not in Romania. One day, in Iasi, this kid tells me “Oh, the world is upside down nowadays, you know. Did you hear that Canada just passed a law where if you say ANYTHING against the government, they put you in jail forever?” I told him I am somewhat familiar with Canada and their laws and I heard of no such thing, and that there are nuances to every law and someone somewhere misinformed him. He assured me it’s true because “even Elon Musk is against it, because he is very free-speech, you know.” Oh yes, I know.
  • I learned, also in Romania, about how much an Uber driver makes, because in Romania speaking about your gains is totally normal, unlike in the US. This driver gave me the example of the ride I was paying for: the total came up to 45 lei (about $9). He makes about 30 lei of those ($6). I am not sure what I would have expected their share to be, but there it was. 


A lot of the time during my trip to Romania revolved around relocating mom and starting a new chapter in our lives as a family. It was one of the most difficult trips that I have ever had to take. Seeing that someone you love, their whole life is reduced to the confines of a strange room, or even smaller, to a bed that doesn’t even belong to them is gut-wrenching. There are no words to describe that kind of pain. 


There was a clock hung on the wall in the hallway, at the facility where mom lives now and it had no hands. It was so symbolic: I guess once you come there, life just stops in so many ways. Who needs the time to be measured anymore?! You’re kinda drifting. And that just empties me ... 



The clock with no hands, right next to an emergency exit sign ...

To have one parent still alive, but not be able to watch them watch you leave the house and wave “goodbye” to you as you depart, or to have a parent and not be able to at least text them when you board a flight to let them know you’re safely leaving, or to text them when you land to tell them you safely made it on the other shore - this is character building! 


Airports are funny places. You can observe the entire humanity, in all its glory,  desperation, beauty, and ugliness. Some of the things I notice in this one trip: 


  • Romanians spent 50 years of communism with no heat and now they are making up for it by overheating every indoor place. Stores and the airports are easily North of 80F. And that is because it’s March outside, which in Romania can easily pass for winter. 
  • Romanians wear the most uncomfortable shoes in airports! Patented shoes?! Super high stiletto heels?! I am not quite sure where they think they are going at 11PM on a flight to Bucharest of all places (internal flight for Romania), but they surely dress up for it. 
  • I like watching the different fashions parading through the airports: the posh, overworked but comfortable look of French women, passing by bored like they own the place and every Chanel, Gautier and Yves St Laurent store; the fad, plain, unkempt look of American women, with froufrou socs, worn-down scrunchies, makeupless faces, staring at everything with mouths agape. I am pretty sure only Americans stare with their mouths open. I am not sure why that is but you try to prove me wrong. The visible discomfort of Muslim women roasting under the many layers and tight scarves in a hot airport. We all make up a world. And somehow, in an airport, we can all get along. So different, and yet so alike and united by one purpose: to wander home, wherever that is for all of us ... 
  • Airports are some of the most diverse places I have ever been in. At 3 AM in Bucharest, you see everyone and anyone: Muslim families with women clad in such tight clothes I wonder if they can breathe, very few African Americans (unusual for Eastern Europe), traveling Hare Krishnas, and even a Scottish guy in a kilt. It’s not even the US, or Paris. This is Bucharest. 
  • The waitress at the Lavazza restaurant in Bucharest refuses to speak Romanian with me. Is it that I look foreign? Or does she assume that everyone must speak the international language of English in an international airport? Is she tired? I know it cannot be that my Romanian is that bad, because I have been here for a month and I have been moving mountains in the very language I was born and raised in and not one person had issues understanding me, but I honor her persistence and answer her in English. I would not want to upset her at midnight, now would I?! She might screw up my cappuccino decaf. 
  • The waitress in the Paris airport is downright rude when I have trouble understanding her very heavily French-accented English. She almost screams at me when I ask her to repeat the price.  
  • Speaking of the French - I find French people speaking English hard to understand but this one was so clever: a flight attendant on an Air France plane (a dark-brown-eyed young Alain Delon) says to a person asking whether they will catch their connection since our flight is coming in delayed: “It is in the same terminal, so you might catch it, but go to the gate first when we land and ask, but you might catch it. It is make-able.” Well, of course “make-able” should be a word. Why not?! 
  • Thank God for small favors, and when a patriarchal society pays off: we have to ride the bus in the Bucharest airport, from the plane to the terminal. Because I have a head full of gray hair, younger men rush to stand up and offer me their seats. And you know what: at midnight, in a packed-full bus, I do not feel insulted and I do not mind. I take the seat and am grateful. 

I notice a huge difference in the way we look at local business here, in The States, and how they look at it in Romania. In the US, you are uncool and the enemy if you don’t agree that “shop local” is the best - support your local economy for a strong city and community. In Romania, when I shop at the local neighborhood, family-owned convenience stores and grocery stores, my uncle reminds me that “I need to go to Auchan or Kaufland (both huge supermarket stores) because I don’t want you to put the money in the coffers of these thieves down the street.” I have trouble understanding why people trying to make a living on their own are “thieves” but he is convinced this is wrong. 


The life lessons from the two movies I watch on the plane can be summarized in these two quotes: 


  • From the immigration movie Past Lives: “If you leave something behind you gain something too.“ I couldn't agree more with this. 
  • From Barbie: “I’m a man with no power. Does that make me a woman?” Indeed. 

As I get ready to go back home a second time this year, I am grinning in melancholy about what other adventures will await the second time around, as I have looked back at these memories from earlier in the year ... Life is a never-ending surprise, and it will fill you with wonders if you’re ready to welcome them ...