Well, we’ve been together for 4 Christmases now. Same thing over and over again: at his parents’ house, lots of presents that we all “wish” on the Christmas wish lists, lots of whoos and aawwws and we move on, pass over in another year. The last one this time, though, so… momentous!
I’m done wrapping and buying and preparing, and not done cooking yet, but will be in a couple of days. I also have to travel to Charlotte, NC for my fingerprinting for my pending citizenship application ( the day before Christmas) and I’m excited about that. I’m also planning to see my Romanian family next March and my Canadian resident sister in the following fall, and maybe buying a house or maybe (just maybe) getting involved in the Real Estate business at all next year ( JUST to wow my ex-husband who thought I was never real estate material at all)…I need to stir some waters, plan some sh^t, since I’m 30, soon to be 31 and lonely, alone and feeling unaccomplished… Will figure something out eventually for the new year. Right now, busy streets, busy work, end of the year craziness at the major paper in the county, tree decorating madness, Christmas get-togethers with friends you really don’t want to see but have to, your life falling apart in the eve of a new year but you gotta pretend it’s a joyous occasion, holding breath when typing (sign of stress), blood pressure going up, Penguin wine tasting darn fine, even maybe against doctor’s orders (who cares? Life’s short, right?!), traffic madness, can’t wait for the next trip excitement, alone, and lonely and feeling for the first time in months empowered and strong. Old timy taste in the mouth of boiled red wine with bay leaves in the Romanian mountains, kissing and aroused. Andy near, and happy… Feeling love in the soul, although not near and not now. Living off of the memories this year… Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. No, really, honestly, a happy and a merry one! Hope for all…
Monday, December 19, 2005
July 2005 Trip: Washington, DC Day Trip
A Day’s Trip
"Hotel rooms are like relationships: intimate and powerful. The good ones nurture, making you feel relaxed and happy. The bad ones get under your skin and fill you with impotent rage." (Jennifer Cox- "Around the World in 80 Dates").
Recently, we decided, Jeff and I, to take a one night – two day trip to Washington. It was mainly for an appointment I had with the Romanian Embassy, but we decided to spice it up a bit. We took off after work one day, on a Tuesday, drove to somewhere in Northern Virginia, and the following day we drove the rest of the day, to DC. For such trips, we never make reservations: we always find coupon travel brochures and find cheap hotels to stay in for a night. This time, the hotel was cheap indeed, and, as J reminded me, you get what you pay for. A Days Inn hotel that advertised a $38.99 rate in the brochure, turned out at the door to have a $47.99 smoking only rate going on. What could we do? Drive off somewhere else? It was close to midnight and we were both tired. The room appeared to have been flooded at some point, as the ceiling, the window treatments and the carpets were generously decorated with giant stains of water. Dried now. The smell of wet carpet was still persistent and so was the smell of smoke; a used ashtray was nicely placed on one of the beds, right next to a pillow. The next morning, we found that there was running water, but only through the tap, not through the showerhead ; the shower knob was broken, and could not channel the water through the shower pipe. That brought back memories from the communist days when we had to “take baths” in the sink, by splashing water at our bodies, since the water did not have enough pressure to make it through the tub’s piping system. After a breakfast of stale bagels and warm juice, we headed to Washington. After the appointment with the Embassy, we drove to the National Museum of the American Indian, a newly build Smithsonian institution, less than a year old.
Built in undulating shapes, just like nature, (no wall or staircase has straight lines), a 4 story giant, the museum makes you feel smaller than an ant and gives you a sense of “there is something bigger than life” out here. From the inside of the main hallway, it feels like you’re in a teepee, but one that is built around all the Indian nations from all over the land. We visited the exhibits, learnt about the different nations, took tons of pictures of artifacts (like ornate skulls, jackets made of fish scales and whale guts lining) and ate Native food: buffalo burger, Indian taco on fried bread, wild rice, a red snapper in coconut stew (delicious!!!) and the sweetest cornbread I have ever been given to taste in my entire life! Now, having lived in the South for the past 7 years, that is a really amazing compliment right there!
I marveled at the similarities these cultures have with other religions and cultures of the world, especially since they’ve always seemed so remote, as a culture, from the rest of the world. Here are some examples of such similarities: on one of the walls, I found this quote, near a picture of a turtle ( in Hindu traditions, the turtle is seen as either the Creator of the world, or as the support of the Earth itself): “The Creator is truth. The Sun is true. No one in this universe could ever change the sun. Truth is represented by those things that never change” – and what does our Christian tradition tell us: “I (Jesus, Son and God says) am the Truth, the Life and the Way”; a symbolic “eye of the storm” had a half black and half red background, which, in some Eastern cultures are true opposites (like black and white in others). Again, I pondered upon our similarities and things we all have in common: no matter how different we may look, we’re looking at the same world, and see it with similar hearts, understanding it with similar brains. Nothing is ever random, someone once said: we’re all connected, and related, and we are all part of the same big continuum. Nothing ever ends, it just evolves into stages and goes further (as the Natives also believe)…The peace I find in the unity and harmony of it all has a special silence, and an “awe-some” feeling of belonging. The visit was a moment in time: a moment when you feel that there is something stronger and bigger than us, something that governs all creatures of all places; and a moment when we too could bow our heads in respect of a culture so close to us, in more ways than one and so rich.
Shower working or not, room rate overpriced or not, we found out what's more important in a trip: it's the hidden treasures such as these finds that keep us going back on the roads, and not the promise of a Ritzy hotel. After all, 60 years from now, looking back, the museum findings will still be there, in our minds and hearts, the Days Inn will fade away as just another cheap hotel we spent one unfortunate night in.
We headed back home, and after fighting the now notorious Washington traffic, we got home late that night, richer and happier.
And for everyone who would like to see the pictures from that trip, please enjoy here:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaafloarei75/album?.dir=e41f&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaafloarei75/my_photos
"Hotel rooms are like relationships: intimate and powerful. The good ones nurture, making you feel relaxed and happy. The bad ones get under your skin and fill you with impotent rage." (Jennifer Cox- "Around the World in 80 Dates").
Recently, we decided, Jeff and I, to take a one night – two day trip to Washington. It was mainly for an appointment I had with the Romanian Embassy, but we decided to spice it up a bit. We took off after work one day, on a Tuesday, drove to somewhere in Northern Virginia, and the following day we drove the rest of the day, to DC. For such trips, we never make reservations: we always find coupon travel brochures and find cheap hotels to stay in for a night. This time, the hotel was cheap indeed, and, as J reminded me, you get what you pay for. A Days Inn hotel that advertised a $38.99 rate in the brochure, turned out at the door to have a $47.99 smoking only rate going on. What could we do? Drive off somewhere else? It was close to midnight and we were both tired. The room appeared to have been flooded at some point, as the ceiling, the window treatments and the carpets were generously decorated with giant stains of water. Dried now. The smell of wet carpet was still persistent and so was the smell of smoke; a used ashtray was nicely placed on one of the beds, right next to a pillow. The next morning, we found that there was running water, but only through the tap, not through the showerhead ; the shower knob was broken, and could not channel the water through the shower pipe. That brought back memories from the communist days when we had to “take baths” in the sink, by splashing water at our bodies, since the water did not have enough pressure to make it through the tub’s piping system. After a breakfast of stale bagels and warm juice, we headed to Washington. After the appointment with the Embassy, we drove to the National Museum of the American Indian, a newly build Smithsonian institution, less than a year old.
Built in undulating shapes, just like nature, (no wall or staircase has straight lines), a 4 story giant, the museum makes you feel smaller than an ant and gives you a sense of “there is something bigger than life” out here. From the inside of the main hallway, it feels like you’re in a teepee, but one that is built around all the Indian nations from all over the land. We visited the exhibits, learnt about the different nations, took tons of pictures of artifacts (like ornate skulls, jackets made of fish scales and whale guts lining) and ate Native food: buffalo burger, Indian taco on fried bread, wild rice, a red snapper in coconut stew (delicious!!!) and the sweetest cornbread I have ever been given to taste in my entire life! Now, having lived in the South for the past 7 years, that is a really amazing compliment right there!
I marveled at the similarities these cultures have with other religions and cultures of the world, especially since they’ve always seemed so remote, as a culture, from the rest of the world. Here are some examples of such similarities: on one of the walls, I found this quote, near a picture of a turtle ( in Hindu traditions, the turtle is seen as either the Creator of the world, or as the support of the Earth itself): “The Creator is truth. The Sun is true. No one in this universe could ever change the sun. Truth is represented by those things that never change” – and what does our Christian tradition tell us: “I (Jesus, Son and God says) am the Truth, the Life and the Way”; a symbolic “eye of the storm” had a half black and half red background, which, in some Eastern cultures are true opposites (like black and white in others). Again, I pondered upon our similarities and things we all have in common: no matter how different we may look, we’re looking at the same world, and see it with similar hearts, understanding it with similar brains. Nothing is ever random, someone once said: we’re all connected, and related, and we are all part of the same big continuum. Nothing ever ends, it just evolves into stages and goes further (as the Natives also believe)…The peace I find in the unity and harmony of it all has a special silence, and an “awe-some” feeling of belonging. The visit was a moment in time: a moment when you feel that there is something stronger and bigger than us, something that governs all creatures of all places; and a moment when we too could bow our heads in respect of a culture so close to us, in more ways than one and so rich.
Shower working or not, room rate overpriced or not, we found out what's more important in a trip: it's the hidden treasures such as these finds that keep us going back on the roads, and not the promise of a Ritzy hotel. After all, 60 years from now, looking back, the museum findings will still be there, in our minds and hearts, the Days Inn will fade away as just another cheap hotel we spent one unfortunate night in.
We headed back home, and after fighting the now notorious Washington traffic, we got home late that night, richer and happier.
And for everyone who would like to see the pictures from that trip, please enjoy here:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaafloarei75/album?.dir=e41f&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaafloarei75/my_photos
October 2005 Trip: In the States with Andy
My sister and I have not seen each other since 2003, in September, when I went home, to Romania, to visit family. This year, after being a Canadian resident for over a year now, she was granted a visa to come and visit me for a week. It was a visit of love, and memories we both hold dear; a visit of recollection and of finding each other again, in each other’s arms. It was like coming home, after a long and unfriendly journey. It opened up a new world for me: the world seen and enjoyed through HER eyes. It recharged batteries and put new smiles on our faces. It gave us (emotional) food to live off of for another stretch of time. Here are some highlights:
- we both remembered how different we are, and yet how complimentary: she’s patient, I have a short fuse; she has a sweet tooth, I don’t; she loves shopping, and I dread it; she likes chocolate, me-vanilla; she-gold, me-silver; she is warm natured, and me- (you guessed it!)-cold natured;
- I have lived in the West for a while now, and she’s been here for just over a year: so, things like using a credit card and paying for the gas at the pump are still novelties to her, and I thrive on seeing how people discover things like these, and open their eyes to a world that’s taken for granted by all of us here everyday;
- She’s never used chop sticks, so, when they came wrapped up in the handy wrapper, and she pulled them out, she thought she has to “stab” the rolls with them: she had no idea they need to be “separated” and the food needs to be picked up with them– cute!
- She thinks that “our” Walmart shopping carts are “so new and stylish” (Jeff will tell you all about our hatred for them!!) compared to the ones in Canada (I guess that’s the Big City inheritance, huh?!), which are always dirty, off centered and hard to push;
- She discovered and loved cheesecake; she also likes bagels and sushi – things I’ve been enjoying for years and we didn’t grow up with; she also did not know there are several ways to cook an egg, or that there are several types of bread you can toast in the morning;
- She is still the same ol’ clumsy baby sister I remembered: every morning, and I mean EVERY single time of every single morning she spent with me, she spills the coffee, while trying to pour it into a cup; she dropped the trunk of my car on my head and shoulder, giving me a bruise, after a whole day of driving; she pulls one thing off a shelf in a CatStore, and several others fall down, break to pieces, including things that are maybe 3-4 feet away from us, and we’re not even touching;
- she also fears and hates insects: the first few days she wanted to enjoy my balcony, but would not go out there alone; she needed me there to make sure there are no spiders; when we went to Myrtle Beach, to the Alligator Adventure Zoo, in the dark room full of enormous, scaly serpents, she screamed out of her wits, not because of the huge crawlers, but because of a “Palmetto bug” on the floor; she wanted out at once, without really minding at all that Boa’s and Pythons that she’s never seen before are waiting to be seen only a few feet away from her; I screamed with her and felt silly, but the bonding made us laugh hysterically afterwards! This is a girl who enjoys the scariest horror flick once in a while, too!- cute, again;
- She pressed the button for our floor (11th) in the elevator, with an armful of shopping bags, thus setting off the alarm button as well, and the security people started talking to us and asking us what is wrong in the elevator; she was quiet and giggling; like the good big sister, always protecting her, I had to speak up: “ I have no idea what just made that turn off, ma’am, but thanks for checking on us. We’re fine”- do you remember when we had to lie for them to our parents about her first kiss that she would not share with anyone but us?! Yeah!
- We both enjoyed all the pets we met including my own tremendously; we remembered our cat, Dolly, that we lost this year, and remembered how pets can bring people together into unconditional love;
- I got a chance again to tuck her in at night, the way I used to do growing up, and sharing a bed with her till I was 21;
- This past heavenly week, I loved cooking for her, feeding her, spoiling her with attention, gifts and driving her around; I fussed at her for not taking her cold medicine and not taking better care of her health; I got to play the Big Sister role once again and that is a priceless, God given gift; and she got to play the Little Sister role and she played it with ease and smiles and giggles, as I always remember she would.
We’re not the small children, growing up in Romania anymore; we’re the grown women of today, but it’s nice once in a while to play kids and dive into a one week vacation with one of the people you’ll always love the most and the most unconditionally. It was one short week, that went by fast, but I would not trade it for the world. I will be forever grateful for every second of it. And pray for the next one to come here soon! Love you lots, Andy!
- we both remembered how different we are, and yet how complimentary: she’s patient, I have a short fuse; she has a sweet tooth, I don’t; she loves shopping, and I dread it; she likes chocolate, me-vanilla; she-gold, me-silver; she is warm natured, and me- (you guessed it!)-cold natured;
- I have lived in the West for a while now, and she’s been here for just over a year: so, things like using a credit card and paying for the gas at the pump are still novelties to her, and I thrive on seeing how people discover things like these, and open their eyes to a world that’s taken for granted by all of us here everyday;
- She’s never used chop sticks, so, when they came wrapped up in the handy wrapper, and she pulled them out, she thought she has to “stab” the rolls with them: she had no idea they need to be “separated” and the food needs to be picked up with them– cute!
- She thinks that “our” Walmart shopping carts are “so new and stylish” (Jeff will tell you all about our hatred for them!!) compared to the ones in Canada (I guess that’s the Big City inheritance, huh?!), which are always dirty, off centered and hard to push;
- She discovered and loved cheesecake; she also likes bagels and sushi – things I’ve been enjoying for years and we didn’t grow up with; she also did not know there are several ways to cook an egg, or that there are several types of bread you can toast in the morning;
- She is still the same ol’ clumsy baby sister I remembered: every morning, and I mean EVERY single time of every single morning she spent with me, she spills the coffee, while trying to pour it into a cup; she dropped the trunk of my car on my head and shoulder, giving me a bruise, after a whole day of driving; she pulls one thing off a shelf in a CatStore, and several others fall down, break to pieces, including things that are maybe 3-4 feet away from us, and we’re not even touching;
- she also fears and hates insects: the first few days she wanted to enjoy my balcony, but would not go out there alone; she needed me there to make sure there are no spiders; when we went to Myrtle Beach, to the Alligator Adventure Zoo, in the dark room full of enormous, scaly serpents, she screamed out of her wits, not because of the huge crawlers, but because of a “Palmetto bug” on the floor; she wanted out at once, without really minding at all that Boa’s and Pythons that she’s never seen before are waiting to be seen only a few feet away from her; I screamed with her and felt silly, but the bonding made us laugh hysterically afterwards! This is a girl who enjoys the scariest horror flick once in a while, too!- cute, again;
- She pressed the button for our floor (11th) in the elevator, with an armful of shopping bags, thus setting off the alarm button as well, and the security people started talking to us and asking us what is wrong in the elevator; she was quiet and giggling; like the good big sister, always protecting her, I had to speak up: “ I have no idea what just made that turn off, ma’am, but thanks for checking on us. We’re fine”- do you remember when we had to lie for them to our parents about her first kiss that she would not share with anyone but us?! Yeah!
- We both enjoyed all the pets we met including my own tremendously; we remembered our cat, Dolly, that we lost this year, and remembered how pets can bring people together into unconditional love;
- I got a chance again to tuck her in at night, the way I used to do growing up, and sharing a bed with her till I was 21;
- This past heavenly week, I loved cooking for her, feeding her, spoiling her with attention, gifts and driving her around; I fussed at her for not taking her cold medicine and not taking better care of her health; I got to play the Big Sister role once again and that is a priceless, God given gift; and she got to play the Little Sister role and she played it with ease and smiles and giggles, as I always remember she would.
We’re not the small children, growing up in Romania anymore; we’re the grown women of today, but it’s nice once in a while to play kids and dive into a one week vacation with one of the people you’ll always love the most and the most unconditionally. It was one short week, that went by fast, but I would not trade it for the world. I will be forever grateful for every second of it. And pray for the next one to come here soon! Love you lots, Andy!
August 2005 Trip: NC Mountains Trip
We leave Greensboro on Friday evening, after work. We take my car, since the gas prices are so high nowadays: $2.52 at Sam’s (I’m sure we’ll laugh 20 years from now). We head West to the Blue Ridge parkway, and our destination is this dot on the map (literally): Celo, NC, or thereabouts: we have the name of Celo Inn for our host, but the address of Burnsville, NC… so…somewhere in the Mountains is as close as we wanna be.
We stop on the way and eat the last familiar, “normal” dinner of a Wendy’s chicken sandwich with a side of crispy fries and some drink that comes with the combo: we have no idea this is the end of the normalcy for the weekend and we’re heading towards the unknown.
After a long and busy ride on I40 West towards the Smokies, and some winding mountain roads, after that, we get to Celo Inn right after dusk. Nancy(the Innkeeper) told Jeff over the phone that our room was to be the “yellow one” and the bathroom was to be across the hallway, also yellow: so, we unload the trunk, and try to find out where all the people that must have driven them up there are, but upon pausing, we hear nothing but crickets and the very distant noise of US-80 cars driving by. We walk up the pebble driveway, up some stairs towards the inn, under an old wood sign that reads simply “Celo Inn”, we read the “cats live outside” sign on the main door and smile and “aawww…”, we enter the quiet lobby, looking for some sign on human presence. Again, we pause and try to listen for a noise. Nothing but our heavy breaths and crickets, and maybe frogs in the nearby stream.
On the old wooden and heavy table in the lobby we find a sign that lets us know the innkeepers are away, will be back around 10PM and if we’d like breakfast to put our names and order on the signup sheet on the table. We decide we’re not going to commit to breakfast, since it’s between 8 and 9 am. We decide to walk up and find the “yellow room” we were promised: up to the second floor we go (still no sign of humans, no noise…), and we sure enough find a yellow door of what seems to be a hotel room open: we walk in and slightly surprised we’re starting to familiarize with the surroundings were going to share for 2 days : the room has “collapsed” ceilings, as in what I call “attic rooms”, but as in what’s more known as a dormer room; it’s tiny, since the bed, dresser a coffee table and a rocking chair take up pretty much the entire floor space, with hardly any room for us to stand!
We’re quiet, and just looking around: no air conditioning unit, the thermostat-looking thing on the wall tells us we can have heat, but there is nothing about air, or “cool” marked on it; there is no tv set not a phone. We did see a square white stand up fan that would hopefully keep up cool in the NC hot and humid summer night. We realize we’re literally away from the big wide world, and for 2 days we’re just going to have each other and the mountains to entertain us. There was no lock on the door, either, and Jeff asked how is that safe? I just said lazily: “you hope it is and not worry about it.” He didn’t think I was too convincing. I have been to Celo Inn before, but these details escaped me when describing the inn to Jeff who is now looking at me with a “where the hell did you bring us, woman” look on his face???
I did tell him that Burnsville is in the county of Yancey and that would be a dry one, so we did bring a cooler with beer. We checked the bathroom across the way, and sure enough it had a yellow door, and all you could expect in it: luckily, running and hot water as well. Upon seeing that Jeff realized that not all hope is gone: he can at least enjoy the shower in the morning and the privacy of his own bathroom.
We opened up some beer, and started walking the grounds. We did run into another couple who had another yellow room at the end of the hallway, but we didn’t converse: the quiet and peace were contagious, obviously, and we just respected that: we whispered to each other and hardly made any eye contact with anyone we saw for the next 2 days.
That night, city geeks that we are, we both pulled our laptops from the bags and started writing, or playing computer games. Drinking beer to unwind, of course, too…We were hot, and hot we stayed pretty much the entire night.
We woke up the next day, avid for a shower and some air conditioning. We knew we had to drive to the town of Burnsville for the latter, and that was at least 25 minutes away on the mountain roads of US 80 and I believe US 184? Or 191? Somewhere in there…
We drove to the town, admiring the small, quaint houses beading the highways, the mountains still smoking from the morning fog, and the lazy traffic along the streets. As we have learned the night before in all the quietness, and the laid-back-ness at the inn, time here is lived at another pace: there is no need to hurry, the sun will still rise in the East the next morning, the crickets and the frogs will be holding their concerts at night, every night, and the mountains will continue to smoke in the morning as they’ve done for ages, so why rush?!
We came to a sign that pointed us towards the downtown of Burnsville and after a short, maybe 2 mile ride we got in the heart of the town: old looking mountain little shops were outlining the 2 lane road that was cutting through he middle of it. We decided “Mountain Top” was a good name for a homemade breakfast, and we parked on the side of the road, and went in to have a huge meal of ham and cheese omelet, bacon, hushpuppies and biscuits, coffee and orange juice for about $4 a piece. After the breakfast we walked the streets in search of the taste of the town and mountain souvenirs…
Slow walking locals … college students part-timing in souvenir shops … dogs at the front doors of “general stores” … artsy overpriced shops of local artists …a couple of restaurants with odd hours (only open 11-2 for lunch, or open 5-8 for dinner) … 3 very Southern, middle aged ladies speaking about a common neighbor that just got married, and “oh, she’s so tiny and fine, and oh, he’s so chunky, but you figure she always liked chunky …look at all her boyfriends”… an architecturally Swiss or German church in the middle of the town … a police car … and clouds gathering …
A couple of souvenirs later, and a handful of shots, we hurried towards Mount Mitchell, the tallest mount East of the Mississippi river. By the time we got to the car and drove maybe 100 yards the rain started pouring… We took a joy ride through the mountains, and stopped for lunch in the small (and that is an understatement!) town of Little Switzerland: we entered the Little Switzerland Café, and on the menu we found out that the town was established somewhere in the early 1800’s by miners, and today it “boasts” a fire station, 12 shops, 6 restaurants and 2 hotels, a church I believe… It was one of those settlements that is clustered around the main street that cuts through it, and if you’re driving through, and decide to sigh and close your eyes, you missed it all together! Not even 100 yards long.
Amazing, to me, how wild views, cold streams, plenty of trout, breathtaking sunsets in the Smokeys didn’t urge some developers to overbuild, commercialize and practically destroy the peace and wilderness of this land, like it so happens with most of our national parks nowadays!
Being a mountain child myself, I have always prayed that mountains will always whisper so humans may never notice them, and leave them alone, to the wild, where they belong! My prayers were answered, for Little Switzerland it seemed, anyway. We had the special of the day: hearty home made chicken and noodle soup, with all grain bread. Just enough for a midday snack. And being in a different county, a beer to go with it, just for extra-fuel.
After an hour or so ride through he mountains and after the rain went away, we got to Mount Mitchell. This was our second attempt ever to climb to the top and see the views: not lucky the first time, when the rain was settled and stubborn to stay: this time there were clouds, but there was sun, too…
People with dogs of all sizes, and kids, too, and all mountain gear you can dream of. We felt above the skies on top of the world. A family called home and sang happy birthday to their brother and son, from the top of the observation tour. That was awkward, but they didn’t seem to care.
We stopped at the restaurant just below the top of the mountain, and had a cup of coffee (again, for fuel) and some iced water. Their air conditioning didn’t seem to function either, and the air in the lodge was heavy with humidity. The log cabin neighboring the restaurant, we found out, was home of 11 or 12 people that come there for the summer to work in the Mount Mitchell Park. They come from as far as 8 hours away to be in the mountains and attend to visitors. The house looked a little bigger than a double wide, made of logs and complete with a DirectTV antenna on the roof! I guess civilization tried to creep in every way it could.
We headed back home, and to some peace and quiet, and crickets again… We realized when we got back that the day had been indeed tiresome. I was not at all convinced that it had been the day, but just the stress accumulated over the week, in a stressful city and a stressful job.
After the fresh air and the quiet majesty of the mountains, after the slow moving people of the heights, we just now realized our lives do need to slow down some: we became more aware of the speed we’re used to, and be came to a screeching halt. We knew we had to drive back to Burnsville for dinner, and although hungry we just didn’t want to move.
Jeff took the rocking chair, and I took the bed: and we were lazily sipping a cold beer and hardly even talking… For an hour, we just let ourselves absorb the day. We tried to go to dinner at a close by restaurant, also, on US 80, at the foot of Black Mountain, called Albert’s, an authentic German restaurant that I remembered from my previous visit there, but they were booked for the night.
And thus we knew we had to drive back to the downtown area. I had to have trout, and fried too, since it’s my favorite fish and pretty much the only thing I ever eat in the mountains! We went to this family owned inn called Nu-Wray Fireside Grill: a colonial house, turned into a B&B and restaurant with a porch full of rocking chairs that reminded me of Cracker Barrel (I know, not as cheesy though).
The trout was delicious! A whole fish, de-boned and fried, fishy and fresh, served with a baked potato, steamed carrots and steamed cauliflower with “cheesy sauce”…. It was all out of this world! The service was outstanding, too: the mother and 2 daughters, it seemed, were the wait staff and they ALL waited on us, and the grandmother was the cook! The dining room had probably 8 or 10 4 chair tables out of which only 3 others were occupied when we got there and we were left alone, towards the end of our meal.
The closeness, and intimacy of these places makes you feel at home, and make you realize that the world is indeed small… You feel like your own person there, not swallowed in the big traffic of the city, amongst thousands of other lonely passers by like yourself.
Life has purpose and sense there and you have plenty of time to acknowledge that too, because you don’t have to rush towards your next chore! You just literally “take your time” and savor the day… while actually having the peace to "listen".
Happy, full and tired, we headed back home, and after reading a few pages from our books we fell asleep early, most definitely with a tingle in our feet and a smile on our faces. Our batteries were slowly recharging now… We needed them full by the end of the second day. The crickets were the perfect lullaby, too…Them, and the buzz of the fan…
The next morning, we did sign up for the breakfast at the inn, because we knew we had to get an early start to be able to enjoy more of the mountains. We took showers, and walked downstairs to the dining room: Mexican tiles on the floor, old antique furniture against the walls, huge wooden barn doors lead into the kitchen, and fresh mountain flowers on each of the 6 tables welcomed us. Nancy, also welcomed us, calling us “the Ghost Guests”, because she never talked to us, no one in fact talked to us over the weekend, and no one really knew we were in fact there… She said she figured we were, just because our door was closed, and she leaves it open at all times…
She started the breakfast with a bowl of fresh fruit, and fresh coffee, followed by a home made bacon-egg and grits “real” meal. Everything tasted greasy and thus delicious! We were full, and happy once more. We paid the whole remainder of the bill, said our good bye’s and please come back’s, and left as quietly as we came on Friday night.
Again, the driveway full of Japanese cars, but no people: we were starting to have a ‘Sixth Sense’ type of feeling all of a sudden: were WE the ghosts?? Or the people that allegedly drove all the cars, but we never saw? Hhhmmm…
We headed towards Grandfather Mountain for the first stop of the day, to continue our wanderings through the NC Mountains. The day was gorgeous! Poofy clouds here and there were resting on top of mountaintops like winter hats! The air was clear and sharp, one of those days when you just know the pictures are going to turn out great. The air was cool and fresh. Humidity almost died overnight, because we felt probably the first sniff of fall in the air… Springs were washing mountain rocks into the roads, and church parking lots were full… It was a happy day!
After an hour or so drive from the Inn to Grandfather Mountain, at the foot of it, when we pay the $14 fee, we find out that the wind is now blowing at the top with a constant speed of 56 mph, and they’ve registered gusts of up to 78 mph and 83 mph that day. Jeff’s eyes pop, and he asks the man why don’t they close the bridge then? The man politely says with a smile : “No, Sir, we close the bridge when we have 65 mph constant winds or higher. Right now, we’re open”…. Jeff thinks : “Oh, crap!!! Great then!” but doesn’t say anything.
I am thinking: “How cool!!! The mile high swinging bridge will be even more interesting in such a wind! All right then! Let’s go!” – but I don’t say anything either…We drive up, on the rocky, very steep roads, where the speed limit is 10mph at times, and my only fear is the little Echo we’re driving might be blown away! At he top I remember the man telling me my sun glasses might be blown away off my head, so I fasten them on my nose, then change shoes, to be able to climb the rocks, and step out of the car with nothing but my camera around my neck. We go towards the swinging bridge, people roaming around woo-ing and aaaww-ing around us. The view into the valley was picture perfect: no clouds, no fog, nothing but crisp mountain air and a flood of sun into all the valleys and lakes around us! And wind! Lots and lots of it!!! You felt like you had to scream for the person next to you to hear you. We all stood with legs apart, to acknowledge our surroundings, for a firmer foothold.
The sign on the bridge tells us that there are not to be more than 40 people at one time on he bridge and I’m thinking, looking around : Who’s here to count 40 people? No one, of course… I guess the trust in common sense is huge around these parts… We’re also told to be very careful while climbing the rocks: we are on the “craggiest” mountain in the Blue Ridge and it’s very hazardous to try to climb he peaks…
There are 2 peaks once you’re at the top, both rocky and bare, and in between them, a mile high up in the air from the sea level, the swinging bridge… Jeff is nervous; he laughs with fear that he’s not crossing. I grab his hand firmly and drag him after me, telling him there are 4 and 5 year olds around us that are crossing the bridge in a laughter, and shame on him! He’s laughing to kill the stress he’s in, and crossing, without looking down!
It’s windy all right, but despite the wind the bridge is not really moving much… It’s made of steal, and with not so tall railings, and I keep wondering how people don’t just jump over the railings more often? Or maybe we don’t hear about it?
Once on the second peak everything is quiet, and calm. We can hear the wind, but we don’t feel like we’re going to take off the ground anymore. We climb the rocks, take pictures, and head back. I stop in the middle of the bridge, to take some shots of the precipice, and to look at what the bottom of the bridge must be looking at every day, for may years now…Jeff keeps going towards the safe side, not thinking that looking down in the middle of a 80 mph gust at 1 mile up in the air is way cool…
I find him relieved on the other side of the cliff. We visit the small museum at the top that tells you a bit of the history of the bridge, the park, and gives you pictures of famous people that made it to the top; including Forrest Gump, who has a bend in the road named after him.
We head to the mini-zoo on he mountain, lower altitude, and we laugh at the goofy bears begging for more peanuts, and the playful otters, and we’re melting after the handsome cougars, and keep a moment of silence, as always near the bald eagle exhibit. To me they keep centuries worth of secrets! They are the most native American creature there are; they’ve seen it all, and are witnesses to ages for history… They don’t bother talking, although they could. They lead by example and advise us just to sit, be quiet, and listen to the wind, and watch the movement of clouds and passing of the seasons. And then, only then, we’ll understand the secret of life. But first we must learn to be quiet! And have good eyes to see…
After the zoo, we continue the descent towards the bottom. We’re about to leave the quiet and peace and serenity all behind, and head back into he “real world”. I feel lonely and regretful…
We head on the Parkway towards Blowing Rock…. The wilderness of the day (and of the weekend) is left behind, and we’re slowly sliding into the “civilized” city world: traffic lights, stores, cars and lots of them, Harleys, are welcoming us in Blowing Rock, a little after lunch time.
We stop for a late lunch of trout (of course) and catfish, and we decide we too can be tourists for half of a day. And we browse the souvenir shops, stop to talk to strange owners of small dogs, and listen to an awfully sounding Jewish, it seems, singer in the park.
The sun is hot and the asphalt almost melting: the cool wind of the woods is definitely left on the Parkway, and the town is overheated, overpopulated and noisy! No crickets …We’ve arrived back to our daily world…and I have to admit, I became kind of sad. Even if the batteries were charged, I wouldn’t have known it at that point: I couldn’t hear myself think from all the noise! Back to the world of real people. The ghosts are left behind… But it’s nice to know they’re only about 3 hours away from here…
We stop on the way and eat the last familiar, “normal” dinner of a Wendy’s chicken sandwich with a side of crispy fries and some drink that comes with the combo: we have no idea this is the end of the normalcy for the weekend and we’re heading towards the unknown.
After a long and busy ride on I40 West towards the Smokies, and some winding mountain roads, after that, we get to Celo Inn right after dusk. Nancy(the Innkeeper) told Jeff over the phone that our room was to be the “yellow one” and the bathroom was to be across the hallway, also yellow: so, we unload the trunk, and try to find out where all the people that must have driven them up there are, but upon pausing, we hear nothing but crickets and the very distant noise of US-80 cars driving by. We walk up the pebble driveway, up some stairs towards the inn, under an old wood sign that reads simply “Celo Inn”, we read the “cats live outside” sign on the main door and smile and “aawww…”, we enter the quiet lobby, looking for some sign on human presence. Again, we pause and try to listen for a noise. Nothing but our heavy breaths and crickets, and maybe frogs in the nearby stream.
On the old wooden and heavy table in the lobby we find a sign that lets us know the innkeepers are away, will be back around 10PM and if we’d like breakfast to put our names and order on the signup sheet on the table. We decide we’re not going to commit to breakfast, since it’s between 8 and 9 am. We decide to walk up and find the “yellow room” we were promised: up to the second floor we go (still no sign of humans, no noise…), and we sure enough find a yellow door of what seems to be a hotel room open: we walk in and slightly surprised we’re starting to familiarize with the surroundings were going to share for 2 days : the room has “collapsed” ceilings, as in what I call “attic rooms”, but as in what’s more known as a dormer room; it’s tiny, since the bed, dresser a coffee table and a rocking chair take up pretty much the entire floor space, with hardly any room for us to stand!
We’re quiet, and just looking around: no air conditioning unit, the thermostat-looking thing on the wall tells us we can have heat, but there is nothing about air, or “cool” marked on it; there is no tv set not a phone. We did see a square white stand up fan that would hopefully keep up cool in the NC hot and humid summer night. We realize we’re literally away from the big wide world, and for 2 days we’re just going to have each other and the mountains to entertain us. There was no lock on the door, either, and Jeff asked how is that safe? I just said lazily: “you hope it is and not worry about it.” He didn’t think I was too convincing. I have been to Celo Inn before, but these details escaped me when describing the inn to Jeff who is now looking at me with a “where the hell did you bring us, woman” look on his face???
I did tell him that Burnsville is in the county of Yancey and that would be a dry one, so we did bring a cooler with beer. We checked the bathroom across the way, and sure enough it had a yellow door, and all you could expect in it: luckily, running and hot water as well. Upon seeing that Jeff realized that not all hope is gone: he can at least enjoy the shower in the morning and the privacy of his own bathroom.
We opened up some beer, and started walking the grounds. We did run into another couple who had another yellow room at the end of the hallway, but we didn’t converse: the quiet and peace were contagious, obviously, and we just respected that: we whispered to each other and hardly made any eye contact with anyone we saw for the next 2 days.
That night, city geeks that we are, we both pulled our laptops from the bags and started writing, or playing computer games. Drinking beer to unwind, of course, too…We were hot, and hot we stayed pretty much the entire night.
We woke up the next day, avid for a shower and some air conditioning. We knew we had to drive to the town of Burnsville for the latter, and that was at least 25 minutes away on the mountain roads of US 80 and I believe US 184? Or 191? Somewhere in there…
We drove to the town, admiring the small, quaint houses beading the highways, the mountains still smoking from the morning fog, and the lazy traffic along the streets. As we have learned the night before in all the quietness, and the laid-back-ness at the inn, time here is lived at another pace: there is no need to hurry, the sun will still rise in the East the next morning, the crickets and the frogs will be holding their concerts at night, every night, and the mountains will continue to smoke in the morning as they’ve done for ages, so why rush?!
We came to a sign that pointed us towards the downtown of Burnsville and after a short, maybe 2 mile ride we got in the heart of the town: old looking mountain little shops were outlining the 2 lane road that was cutting through he middle of it. We decided “Mountain Top” was a good name for a homemade breakfast, and we parked on the side of the road, and went in to have a huge meal of ham and cheese omelet, bacon, hushpuppies and biscuits, coffee and orange juice for about $4 a piece. After the breakfast we walked the streets in search of the taste of the town and mountain souvenirs…
Slow walking locals … college students part-timing in souvenir shops … dogs at the front doors of “general stores” … artsy overpriced shops of local artists …a couple of restaurants with odd hours (only open 11-2 for lunch, or open 5-8 for dinner) … 3 very Southern, middle aged ladies speaking about a common neighbor that just got married, and “oh, she’s so tiny and fine, and oh, he’s so chunky, but you figure she always liked chunky …look at all her boyfriends”… an architecturally Swiss or German church in the middle of the town … a police car … and clouds gathering …
A couple of souvenirs later, and a handful of shots, we hurried towards Mount Mitchell, the tallest mount East of the Mississippi river. By the time we got to the car and drove maybe 100 yards the rain started pouring… We took a joy ride through the mountains, and stopped for lunch in the small (and that is an understatement!) town of Little Switzerland: we entered the Little Switzerland Café, and on the menu we found out that the town was established somewhere in the early 1800’s by miners, and today it “boasts” a fire station, 12 shops, 6 restaurants and 2 hotels, a church I believe… It was one of those settlements that is clustered around the main street that cuts through it, and if you’re driving through, and decide to sigh and close your eyes, you missed it all together! Not even 100 yards long.
Amazing, to me, how wild views, cold streams, plenty of trout, breathtaking sunsets in the Smokeys didn’t urge some developers to overbuild, commercialize and practically destroy the peace and wilderness of this land, like it so happens with most of our national parks nowadays!
Being a mountain child myself, I have always prayed that mountains will always whisper so humans may never notice them, and leave them alone, to the wild, where they belong! My prayers were answered, for Little Switzerland it seemed, anyway. We had the special of the day: hearty home made chicken and noodle soup, with all grain bread. Just enough for a midday snack. And being in a different county, a beer to go with it, just for extra-fuel.
After an hour or so ride through he mountains and after the rain went away, we got to Mount Mitchell. This was our second attempt ever to climb to the top and see the views: not lucky the first time, when the rain was settled and stubborn to stay: this time there were clouds, but there was sun, too…
People with dogs of all sizes, and kids, too, and all mountain gear you can dream of. We felt above the skies on top of the world. A family called home and sang happy birthday to their brother and son, from the top of the observation tour. That was awkward, but they didn’t seem to care.
We stopped at the restaurant just below the top of the mountain, and had a cup of coffee (again, for fuel) and some iced water. Their air conditioning didn’t seem to function either, and the air in the lodge was heavy with humidity. The log cabin neighboring the restaurant, we found out, was home of 11 or 12 people that come there for the summer to work in the Mount Mitchell Park. They come from as far as 8 hours away to be in the mountains and attend to visitors. The house looked a little bigger than a double wide, made of logs and complete with a DirectTV antenna on the roof! I guess civilization tried to creep in every way it could.
We headed back home, and to some peace and quiet, and crickets again… We realized when we got back that the day had been indeed tiresome. I was not at all convinced that it had been the day, but just the stress accumulated over the week, in a stressful city and a stressful job.
After the fresh air and the quiet majesty of the mountains, after the slow moving people of the heights, we just now realized our lives do need to slow down some: we became more aware of the speed we’re used to, and be came to a screeching halt. We knew we had to drive back to Burnsville for dinner, and although hungry we just didn’t want to move.
Jeff took the rocking chair, and I took the bed: and we were lazily sipping a cold beer and hardly even talking… For an hour, we just let ourselves absorb the day. We tried to go to dinner at a close by restaurant, also, on US 80, at the foot of Black Mountain, called Albert’s, an authentic German restaurant that I remembered from my previous visit there, but they were booked for the night.
And thus we knew we had to drive back to the downtown area. I had to have trout, and fried too, since it’s my favorite fish and pretty much the only thing I ever eat in the mountains! We went to this family owned inn called Nu-Wray Fireside Grill: a colonial house, turned into a B&B and restaurant with a porch full of rocking chairs that reminded me of Cracker Barrel (I know, not as cheesy though).
The trout was delicious! A whole fish, de-boned and fried, fishy and fresh, served with a baked potato, steamed carrots and steamed cauliflower with “cheesy sauce”…. It was all out of this world! The service was outstanding, too: the mother and 2 daughters, it seemed, were the wait staff and they ALL waited on us, and the grandmother was the cook! The dining room had probably 8 or 10 4 chair tables out of which only 3 others were occupied when we got there and we were left alone, towards the end of our meal.
The closeness, and intimacy of these places makes you feel at home, and make you realize that the world is indeed small… You feel like your own person there, not swallowed in the big traffic of the city, amongst thousands of other lonely passers by like yourself.
Life has purpose and sense there and you have plenty of time to acknowledge that too, because you don’t have to rush towards your next chore! You just literally “take your time” and savor the day… while actually having the peace to "listen".
Happy, full and tired, we headed back home, and after reading a few pages from our books we fell asleep early, most definitely with a tingle in our feet and a smile on our faces. Our batteries were slowly recharging now… We needed them full by the end of the second day. The crickets were the perfect lullaby, too…Them, and the buzz of the fan…
The next morning, we did sign up for the breakfast at the inn, because we knew we had to get an early start to be able to enjoy more of the mountains. We took showers, and walked downstairs to the dining room: Mexican tiles on the floor, old antique furniture against the walls, huge wooden barn doors lead into the kitchen, and fresh mountain flowers on each of the 6 tables welcomed us. Nancy, also welcomed us, calling us “the Ghost Guests”, because she never talked to us, no one in fact talked to us over the weekend, and no one really knew we were in fact there… She said she figured we were, just because our door was closed, and she leaves it open at all times…
She started the breakfast with a bowl of fresh fruit, and fresh coffee, followed by a home made bacon-egg and grits “real” meal. Everything tasted greasy and thus delicious! We were full, and happy once more. We paid the whole remainder of the bill, said our good bye’s and please come back’s, and left as quietly as we came on Friday night.
Again, the driveway full of Japanese cars, but no people: we were starting to have a ‘Sixth Sense’ type of feeling all of a sudden: were WE the ghosts?? Or the people that allegedly drove all the cars, but we never saw? Hhhmmm…
We headed towards Grandfather Mountain for the first stop of the day, to continue our wanderings through the NC Mountains. The day was gorgeous! Poofy clouds here and there were resting on top of mountaintops like winter hats! The air was clear and sharp, one of those days when you just know the pictures are going to turn out great. The air was cool and fresh. Humidity almost died overnight, because we felt probably the first sniff of fall in the air… Springs were washing mountain rocks into the roads, and church parking lots were full… It was a happy day!
After an hour or so drive from the Inn to Grandfather Mountain, at the foot of it, when we pay the $14 fee, we find out that the wind is now blowing at the top with a constant speed of 56 mph, and they’ve registered gusts of up to 78 mph and 83 mph that day. Jeff’s eyes pop, and he asks the man why don’t they close the bridge then? The man politely says with a smile : “No, Sir, we close the bridge when we have 65 mph constant winds or higher. Right now, we’re open”…. Jeff thinks : “Oh, crap!!! Great then!” but doesn’t say anything.
I am thinking: “How cool!!! The mile high swinging bridge will be even more interesting in such a wind! All right then! Let’s go!” – but I don’t say anything either…We drive up, on the rocky, very steep roads, where the speed limit is 10mph at times, and my only fear is the little Echo we’re driving might be blown away! At he top I remember the man telling me my sun glasses might be blown away off my head, so I fasten them on my nose, then change shoes, to be able to climb the rocks, and step out of the car with nothing but my camera around my neck. We go towards the swinging bridge, people roaming around woo-ing and aaaww-ing around us. The view into the valley was picture perfect: no clouds, no fog, nothing but crisp mountain air and a flood of sun into all the valleys and lakes around us! And wind! Lots and lots of it!!! You felt like you had to scream for the person next to you to hear you. We all stood with legs apart, to acknowledge our surroundings, for a firmer foothold.
The sign on the bridge tells us that there are not to be more than 40 people at one time on he bridge and I’m thinking, looking around : Who’s here to count 40 people? No one, of course… I guess the trust in common sense is huge around these parts… We’re also told to be very careful while climbing the rocks: we are on the “craggiest” mountain in the Blue Ridge and it’s very hazardous to try to climb he peaks…
There are 2 peaks once you’re at the top, both rocky and bare, and in between them, a mile high up in the air from the sea level, the swinging bridge… Jeff is nervous; he laughs with fear that he’s not crossing. I grab his hand firmly and drag him after me, telling him there are 4 and 5 year olds around us that are crossing the bridge in a laughter, and shame on him! He’s laughing to kill the stress he’s in, and crossing, without looking down!
It’s windy all right, but despite the wind the bridge is not really moving much… It’s made of steal, and with not so tall railings, and I keep wondering how people don’t just jump over the railings more often? Or maybe we don’t hear about it?
Once on the second peak everything is quiet, and calm. We can hear the wind, but we don’t feel like we’re going to take off the ground anymore. We climb the rocks, take pictures, and head back. I stop in the middle of the bridge, to take some shots of the precipice, and to look at what the bottom of the bridge must be looking at every day, for may years now…Jeff keeps going towards the safe side, not thinking that looking down in the middle of a 80 mph gust at 1 mile up in the air is way cool…
I find him relieved on the other side of the cliff. We visit the small museum at the top that tells you a bit of the history of the bridge, the park, and gives you pictures of famous people that made it to the top; including Forrest Gump, who has a bend in the road named after him.
We head to the mini-zoo on he mountain, lower altitude, and we laugh at the goofy bears begging for more peanuts, and the playful otters, and we’re melting after the handsome cougars, and keep a moment of silence, as always near the bald eagle exhibit. To me they keep centuries worth of secrets! They are the most native American creature there are; they’ve seen it all, and are witnesses to ages for history… They don’t bother talking, although they could. They lead by example and advise us just to sit, be quiet, and listen to the wind, and watch the movement of clouds and passing of the seasons. And then, only then, we’ll understand the secret of life. But first we must learn to be quiet! And have good eyes to see…
After the zoo, we continue the descent towards the bottom. We’re about to leave the quiet and peace and serenity all behind, and head back into he “real world”. I feel lonely and regretful…
We head on the Parkway towards Blowing Rock…. The wilderness of the day (and of the weekend) is left behind, and we’re slowly sliding into the “civilized” city world: traffic lights, stores, cars and lots of them, Harleys, are welcoming us in Blowing Rock, a little after lunch time.
We stop for a late lunch of trout (of course) and catfish, and we decide we too can be tourists for half of a day. And we browse the souvenir shops, stop to talk to strange owners of small dogs, and listen to an awfully sounding Jewish, it seems, singer in the park.
The sun is hot and the asphalt almost melting: the cool wind of the woods is definitely left on the Parkway, and the town is overheated, overpopulated and noisy! No crickets …We’ve arrived back to our daily world…and I have to admit, I became kind of sad. Even if the batteries were charged, I wouldn’t have known it at that point: I couldn’t hear myself think from all the noise! Back to the world of real people. The ghosts are left behind… But it’s nice to know they’re only about 3 hours away from here…
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
On My Mind
... I want not to come home to an empty house anymore; I want to make breakfast on Sunday morning for 2; I want to go to hot, exotic places for the Holidays; I want to help the poor in Asia and Africa; I want someone, one day, to "lay me down in a bed of roses", and I want that to be a surprise; I want a diamond ring as a promise that I am the number one woman in that person's life, not because he thinks that's "the right thing" to do; I want to go shopping in Vail for the Holidays; and I want to be happy... In other words, I might be hitting my first mid-life crisis just now. It's funny how I have been married and have been in long relationships, without ever being proposed to. Hhhmm.... All I wanna say is: life is quite interesting, and I am just trying to see what happens next, after this door closes.
J and I have the "talk", and after the Holidays it does look like the end will greet us. And that's all that's on my mind today.
J and I have the "talk", and after the Holidays it does look like the end will greet us. And that's all that's on my mind today.
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Happy Thanksgiving!
I wanted to add "or is it..?!" but I refrained myself. It's tough when you're with the family you know you have to leave in a litle while. I'm still on the fence about J and about us... but I'm leaning towards the Completely Alone yard more so than towards the Alone Together one... It's nice when we're around people, and talk and share ... it makes us even look almost like a couple. But there is no sleep over anymore, and no real intimacy. No real talk of "us" anymore at all... Just talk about jobs and people and work, and family and how weird the world around us is. It's walking on eggshells time for us, after 4 years... And of course, as always, "he doesn't know" what to do about it and thus awaits... And I'm making my New Year's resolution to find another way to happiness... With him, if he wants to join me, but without if he chooses, as he's shown so far, not to. I've e-mailed him a question about what he wants as far as me in his life on November 6th. He's still thinking about it today. And I'm too tired to bring it up again. But jumping off the fence completely is hard, way harder than you might think. It's not like Ph. Breaking up with him was much easier: he was a drunk and an abuser. J is nice, and everybody sees him as the boy who pretty much hung the moon! So, it's tough. It's like saying an absolute NO to happiness, in most of the people's minds, including my parents... But I need to remember what Th., the retiring man at work, told me before he left: "A, get yourself a man who can take care of you!". He was right... And plus, conforming with J's family restrictions of having so many kids and having such an such job that would suit me better and living in such and such neighborhood that would definitely suit the entire family better is not in my character either. And these are small (or not) things that throw me off the fence in a heartbeat.
It'll be a hard Holiday Season for sure: faking it all the way, and then feeling like a bastard because they'll shower me with gifts and I will say good bye... Still on the fence.
It'll be a hard Holiday Season for sure: faking it all the way, and then feeling like a bastard because they'll shower me with gifts and I will say good bye... Still on the fence.
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
They’re Finally Down!
… The leaves, I mean… They finally cover the ground much like a carpet of myriads of colors! Finally a good rain and wind shook the trees well that all of them fell! We’ve been dragging the fall out this year, just like J and I our relationship… Even now, in the middle of November, when my sister gets her first snow in Montreal, we still have leaves ON the trees, and the A/C is running inside! Even for North Carolina, this is pretty strange… But they finally fell today, in a whirlwind of rain!
And one more thing for the day: I discovered (on my own), that “you sure can” is such a Southernism and I need, I MUST stop using it at once! Especially around the Montreal people! Now, that I know better it scratches my ear, just like “might could” and “I have went”, which so help me the God of English Grammar have not ever come out of my mouth! Not ever!
And I started the Christmas Lent today. The year is surely over. Depressing. That’s it so far for today.
And one more thing for the day: I discovered (on my own), that “you sure can” is such a Southernism and I need, I MUST stop using it at once! Especially around the Montreal people! Now, that I know better it scratches my ear, just like “might could” and “I have went”, which so help me the God of English Grammar have not ever come out of my mouth! Not ever!
And I started the Christmas Lent today. The year is surely over. Depressing. That’s it so far for today.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
Learning to Say ‘Good Bye’? Maybe!
More couples around us together for the wrong reason: because of kids, money, because she can stay home, because he does the housework, because he loves her although she loves someone else… And we’ve tried to bring ourselves together for 4 years now, and we have thing in common, we laugh and we travel well, we have so much respect for each other, and we cannot be a couple. We can’t or we won’t, or someone or something prevents us from that… And I feel some days that I am going to scream from solitude, although that used to be my friend! I guess as you get older she turns into an ugly enemy! Nothing I can do except hope for a better day, whatever that day will bring. It’s funny how I go about my daily routine and about our “couple” routines and this can very well be our very last year together. It’s not very much fun to live your life with a deadline. Not very much fun at all. But that’s how I’ve felt this year: I don’t have an answer from J whether we’re together, we will be truly together, or we’re just living parallel lives; he needs more time to think… And that just makes me ask for more time to think, too. Every day that goes by with him not delivering me an answer I draw further and further away from him. It’s not voluntary, I think it’s almost instinctual: so I won’t get too hurt! But it happens, and I can’t control it. I HAVE to make a commitment not to say anything anymore to him: not to poison our silences with useless questions that will remain on deaf ears… I’ve GOT to try to learn how to be quiet, and listen to silence and peace. I’m tired of bitterness and questions, and defensive arguments. If he demands an answer, I will have to learn to say “I need time to think”. After all, what’s there to rush for?!
It’s quite a learning process for me. Until one day…When the need to have someone there when I wake up, or show up from work, or when I cook a meal at the end of the day will be stronger than myself and then I will finally learn to finally say ‘Good Bye’. Finally. This relationship has been the most agonizing wait I’ve known. It’s been quite a journey.
And as I’ve always said: I welcome more journeys, and I welcome more scars and band aids: they always carry a story!
It’s quite a learning process for me. Until one day…When the need to have someone there when I wake up, or show up from work, or when I cook a meal at the end of the day will be stronger than myself and then I will finally learn to finally say ‘Good Bye’. Finally. This relationship has been the most agonizing wait I’ve known. It’s been quite a journey.
And as I’ve always said: I welcome more journeys, and I welcome more scars and band aids: they always carry a story!
Saturday, October 22, 2005
Off the Beaten Path in the Virginia Mountains
We love getting away for the weekend, and we love “different” things, things that we don’t get to do often and that pull us out of the ordinary. I also, personally love fall festivals and fairs! I could live my life through fall festival foods and treats! So, every year now, we look forward for the Olive Fest at Villa Appalaccia and the Garlic Festival of the Rebec Vineyards in VA. Sometimes, we skip one of these events, because of other “obligations” with family and/or friends, but we try to make at least one of them.
This year, it was the Olive Fest that we tried to make. We tried to literally squeeze a half of a day visit to the Blue Ridge Parkway this October, on the 22nd. J had to work, so we had only half of a day to get out of town. We drove up US 220, to US 58, up to the Meadows of Dan (which to me sounds so much more poetic that “Dan’s Meadows”… it’s a spot right out of the fairy tales books to me, judging by the name alone), and the Blue Ridge Parkway, and we looked for this small vineyard, called Villa Appalaccia, that will have an “All Things Olive” weekend, with olive, olive oil and vinaigrettes tastings and of course, wine! It’s hard to follow directions in finding these wineries because they don’t have physical addresses, really, they’re located on “mile markers” and sometimes, those are hard to spot. We tried to use memories from 2 years ago, the last time we made this trip, to find our way there.
In the meantime, we were enjoying the drive through the mountainous space, up and down hills of early fall colors, and under smoky gray skies. The drive is beautiful: quaint little small towns and small, wooden shopping centers, elegant comfy homes, or run-down-looking trailers, they all add to the Virginian landscape, that we all know and find so familiar. The weather is typical fall weather, rain, here and there, bright sun peeking from the clouds at times, and as we drive higher, colder and colder air greets us. After a 2 hr drive, J spotted the Villa Appalaccia Winery to the right of the Parkway, going North. We took the gravel road off the Parkway towards the main building.
Once you leave the Parkway, you almost step into another space, all its own, quiet, and, because of the remoteness, sort of eerie. The main building has an Italian/ Mediterranean “flavor” to it, with the brick-colored stucco and the round arches around every corner and window, the stone walkway and the tile roof. I guess they meant it that way, because they also have an Italian flag on their property, and on their website they also advertise a Tuscan villa (as in set in Tuscany, Italy), that they bought recently and which can be rented by anyone who wishes to enjoy wine in the “true” wine country of Italy. Although there is no ocean nearby, as you would expect, because of the architecture, the winery does not seem out of place. Its elegance and style fits the Smokeys pretty well.
We do the olive tasting first, and we’re treated with olives and olive oils for dipping from countries as various and remote as Peru, Morocco, Italy, France, and Turkey, to the US and Romania and Greece. Some oils are smooth and almost tasteless (like the Frantoia, that J liked), others are pungent and spicy; the same thing with the olives: some are “meaty” and full of “olive” flavor, others are pickled in red wine vinegar or garlic, thyme and rosemary brine. The olives are amazing: green, black, purple, seasoned, “wrinkled”, green or black. Our guide tells us that “all olives come from the same tree, it all depends how long you wait to pick them, or how you cure them”. My favorite olive oil happens to be a French one, called “A L’Olivier”, which is infused with garlic and spices”. My favorite olives (although I’d have any amount of any specialty!) are the Gaeta ones, which are Italian, “slightly bitter in taste with hints of lemon and garlic”. I also liked the Moroccan Oil-Cured ones, which are black (of course!), naturally dried (thus “wrinkled”), full flavored with thyme and slightly bitter, too. They are all delicious! I am not really worrying about J’s experience through this all (he’s not crazy about olives!), because I am in cloud nine! I could sit there and eat 15 tons of these small fruit until I drop dead, sick with a stomach ache (as I used to do at home, back in Romania). Olives to me are right up there close to divinity! I have always thought they come from around the Mediterranean where all the Gods lived for a reason! They’re all divinely delicious!
After the olive tasting (which only happens once a year, sometimes in October at this particular vineyard; this is the link for further info: http://www.villaappalaccia.com ), we went on to the wine tasting: we tasted about 10 wines made on the premises, both red and white, some dryer, some sweeter. We both agreed we cannot understand what people see (taste) in red wines, but then again we’re not wine fanatics. We agreed, again, that while the white wines are OK, or the better kind, the red ones all “taste like feet”. We like simple things: if we like something, we say we like it because it’s “sweet”, or “bitter”, or “tastes like honey”, or “like garlic”… We both giggle when people try to sound sophisticated and find that a wine tastes “like the oak barrel”, or find that one “has a rich bouquet”. We call the smell of the wine, “the smell”, and not the “nose”, and we call the “taste”, the “taste”, and not the “flavor” or “bouquet”. We both agree that making wine is a labor of love, and a work of art sometimes, but we don’t get very “sophisticated” when we try to talk about it: to us, if it tastes good, it’s good wine, we’re not looking for the 13 bugs that happened to have rested on the grapes during the fermentation process, thus rendering the future wine the complexity of its taste. (roll your eyes) We’re simple people! But nevertheless, it’s fun to watch the others trying to understand the mysteries of this potion.
After the cellar tour and the wine drinking we proceeded into the patio upstairs where we were served the standard lunch, which included bruschetta bread, and olive tapenade for the appetizer, and a salad with a mild vinaigrette and a vegetarian pasta dish, in what else but a light olive oil sauce as the “main course”. A classic guitar was strumming in the background, and a ton of “wine people” surrounded us, some solo, some with groups of friends. We kept wondering how can someone drive for the day up there and drink a whole bottle of wine amongst 2 people and then drive back?! I guess we’re still novices in the wine drinking department, because just the little bit of the tasting gave me (at least) a buzz.
After lunch, we headed to Chateau Morrisette (http://www.chateaumorrisette.com). While the Villa is a small little family-owned business, the Chateau is a well-marketed “monster”, with an overpriced gift shop and wines being sold at all the Harris Teeters in NC, or at least all of them in Greensboro. I only want to go by there for their gourmet “Black Dog” signature dips and oils, and not necessarily for the wines: I don’t believe anything in the US can match my palate for Romanian wine, so I don’t even try to hope that one winery will even come close one day to proving me wrong. So, after buying my mostly coveted Sauvignon Blanc Garlic Mayo (how’s this for pretentious?!?) , I discovered another treasure, in the shape of a Roasted Garlic Grape Seed dipping oil – delicious, very garlic-y indeed dipping oil!!! We looked around the gift shop at the pricey merchandise and we left in about 15 minutes, after wondering how some people can afford between a $106 and $160 purchase of wines alone. That must be a true (and faithful) passion for wine indeed. I paid my $15 total for my mayo and dip (much to the dismay of the cashier, I am sure, which changed a whole role of receipt paper before she took me) and we drove off into the sunset, towards our next stop.
The next halt was the Mabry Mill, a staple on the Virginian Blue Ridge Parkway: built in the late 1800’s, the mill is a drop of the past on this scenic road. It now belongs to the National Parks, and it’s a nice reminder of the American forefathers and the way they lived back in the day. The mill, the cabins around it and all the bridges are build of wood, and the sound of water is soothing and peaceful, albeit being on the side of the busy road. The mill stop also has a blacksmith shop, and a cabin where you can find people making crafts, just for a more genuine reminder of the past. The gift store offers souvenirs which range from videos about the Blue Ridge Parkway to locally crafted goods and foods, from postcards to VA magnets and mugs.
After a few pictures of the mill, with ducks and without, with people peeking from the window, and without, and after a few shots of the colorful “fall”-y trees, we made our way back to Greensboro.
After a 2 hour drive, we got back to our city home, and routine, tummies full of yummy olives, dips, and salads, heads full of wine (I have always thought that wines must travel upward, towards the head!), and souls full of refreshment. I’m sipping good ol’ grocery chardonnay as I’m writing this right now, and I feel good: I guess wine was just the pretext for today’s getaway, not the purpose: it gave us a good reason to go search, and in the meantime, we found hidden treasures in the mountains of Virginia. And as always, we re-found ourselves, only more rested, mentally, because our retinas have now been cleansed and our batteries re-charged one more time!
This year, it was the Olive Fest that we tried to make. We tried to literally squeeze a half of a day visit to the Blue Ridge Parkway this October, on the 22nd. J had to work, so we had only half of a day to get out of town. We drove up US 220, to US 58, up to the Meadows of Dan (which to me sounds so much more poetic that “Dan’s Meadows”… it’s a spot right out of the fairy tales books to me, judging by the name alone), and the Blue Ridge Parkway, and we looked for this small vineyard, called Villa Appalaccia, that will have an “All Things Olive” weekend, with olive, olive oil and vinaigrettes tastings and of course, wine! It’s hard to follow directions in finding these wineries because they don’t have physical addresses, really, they’re located on “mile markers” and sometimes, those are hard to spot. We tried to use memories from 2 years ago, the last time we made this trip, to find our way there.
In the meantime, we were enjoying the drive through the mountainous space, up and down hills of early fall colors, and under smoky gray skies. The drive is beautiful: quaint little small towns and small, wooden shopping centers, elegant comfy homes, or run-down-looking trailers, they all add to the Virginian landscape, that we all know and find so familiar. The weather is typical fall weather, rain, here and there, bright sun peeking from the clouds at times, and as we drive higher, colder and colder air greets us. After a 2 hr drive, J spotted the Villa Appalaccia Winery to the right of the Parkway, going North. We took the gravel road off the Parkway towards the main building.
Once you leave the Parkway, you almost step into another space, all its own, quiet, and, because of the remoteness, sort of eerie. The main building has an Italian/ Mediterranean “flavor” to it, with the brick-colored stucco and the round arches around every corner and window, the stone walkway and the tile roof. I guess they meant it that way, because they also have an Italian flag on their property, and on their website they also advertise a Tuscan villa (as in set in Tuscany, Italy), that they bought recently and which can be rented by anyone who wishes to enjoy wine in the “true” wine country of Italy. Although there is no ocean nearby, as you would expect, because of the architecture, the winery does not seem out of place. Its elegance and style fits the Smokeys pretty well.
We do the olive tasting first, and we’re treated with olives and olive oils for dipping from countries as various and remote as Peru, Morocco, Italy, France, and Turkey, to the US and Romania and Greece. Some oils are smooth and almost tasteless (like the Frantoia, that J liked), others are pungent and spicy; the same thing with the olives: some are “meaty” and full of “olive” flavor, others are pickled in red wine vinegar or garlic, thyme and rosemary brine. The olives are amazing: green, black, purple, seasoned, “wrinkled”, green or black. Our guide tells us that “all olives come from the same tree, it all depends how long you wait to pick them, or how you cure them”. My favorite olive oil happens to be a French one, called “A L’Olivier”, which is infused with garlic and spices”. My favorite olives (although I’d have any amount of any specialty!) are the Gaeta ones, which are Italian, “slightly bitter in taste with hints of lemon and garlic”. I also liked the Moroccan Oil-Cured ones, which are black (of course!), naturally dried (thus “wrinkled”), full flavored with thyme and slightly bitter, too. They are all delicious! I am not really worrying about J’s experience through this all (he’s not crazy about olives!), because I am in cloud nine! I could sit there and eat 15 tons of these small fruit until I drop dead, sick with a stomach ache (as I used to do at home, back in Romania). Olives to me are right up there close to divinity! I have always thought they come from around the Mediterranean where all the Gods lived for a reason! They’re all divinely delicious!
After the olive tasting (which only happens once a year, sometimes in October at this particular vineyard; this is the link for further info: http://www.villaappalaccia.com ), we went on to the wine tasting: we tasted about 10 wines made on the premises, both red and white, some dryer, some sweeter. We both agreed we cannot understand what people see (taste) in red wines, but then again we’re not wine fanatics. We agreed, again, that while the white wines are OK, or the better kind, the red ones all “taste like feet”. We like simple things: if we like something, we say we like it because it’s “sweet”, or “bitter”, or “tastes like honey”, or “like garlic”… We both giggle when people try to sound sophisticated and find that a wine tastes “like the oak barrel”, or find that one “has a rich bouquet”. We call the smell of the wine, “the smell”, and not the “nose”, and we call the “taste”, the “taste”, and not the “flavor” or “bouquet”. We both agree that making wine is a labor of love, and a work of art sometimes, but we don’t get very “sophisticated” when we try to talk about it: to us, if it tastes good, it’s good wine, we’re not looking for the 13 bugs that happened to have rested on the grapes during the fermentation process, thus rendering the future wine the complexity of its taste. (roll your eyes) We’re simple people! But nevertheless, it’s fun to watch the others trying to understand the mysteries of this potion.
After the cellar tour and the wine drinking we proceeded into the patio upstairs where we were served the standard lunch, which included bruschetta bread, and olive tapenade for the appetizer, and a salad with a mild vinaigrette and a vegetarian pasta dish, in what else but a light olive oil sauce as the “main course”. A classic guitar was strumming in the background, and a ton of “wine people” surrounded us, some solo, some with groups of friends. We kept wondering how can someone drive for the day up there and drink a whole bottle of wine amongst 2 people and then drive back?! I guess we’re still novices in the wine drinking department, because just the little bit of the tasting gave me (at least) a buzz.
After lunch, we headed to Chateau Morrisette (http://www.chateaumorrisette.com). While the Villa is a small little family-owned business, the Chateau is a well-marketed “monster”, with an overpriced gift shop and wines being sold at all the Harris Teeters in NC, or at least all of them in Greensboro. I only want to go by there for their gourmet “Black Dog” signature dips and oils, and not necessarily for the wines: I don’t believe anything in the US can match my palate for Romanian wine, so I don’t even try to hope that one winery will even come close one day to proving me wrong. So, after buying my mostly coveted Sauvignon Blanc Garlic Mayo (how’s this for pretentious?!?) , I discovered another treasure, in the shape of a Roasted Garlic Grape Seed dipping oil – delicious, very garlic-y indeed dipping oil!!! We looked around the gift shop at the pricey merchandise and we left in about 15 minutes, after wondering how some people can afford between a $106 and $160 purchase of wines alone. That must be a true (and faithful) passion for wine indeed. I paid my $15 total for my mayo and dip (much to the dismay of the cashier, I am sure, which changed a whole role of receipt paper before she took me) and we drove off into the sunset, towards our next stop.
The next halt was the Mabry Mill, a staple on the Virginian Blue Ridge Parkway: built in the late 1800’s, the mill is a drop of the past on this scenic road. It now belongs to the National Parks, and it’s a nice reminder of the American forefathers and the way they lived back in the day. The mill, the cabins around it and all the bridges are build of wood, and the sound of water is soothing and peaceful, albeit being on the side of the busy road. The mill stop also has a blacksmith shop, and a cabin where you can find people making crafts, just for a more genuine reminder of the past. The gift store offers souvenirs which range from videos about the Blue Ridge Parkway to locally crafted goods and foods, from postcards to VA magnets and mugs.
After a few pictures of the mill, with ducks and without, with people peeking from the window, and without, and after a few shots of the colorful “fall”-y trees, we made our way back to Greensboro.
After a 2 hour drive, we got back to our city home, and routine, tummies full of yummy olives, dips, and salads, heads full of wine (I have always thought that wines must travel upward, towards the head!), and souls full of refreshment. I’m sipping good ol’ grocery chardonnay as I’m writing this right now, and I feel good: I guess wine was just the pretext for today’s getaway, not the purpose: it gave us a good reason to go search, and in the meantime, we found hidden treasures in the mountains of Virginia. And as always, we re-found ourselves, only more rested, mentally, because our retinas have now been cleansed and our batteries re-charged one more time!
Sunday, October 02, 2005
A Scent of Fall
Summer will not give up in the Carolinas, with temperatures daily of 82-85, cloudless skies, blazing heat from the sun and trees all full of dark and rich green leaves. But I get phone calls from back home (Romania) and mom has almost finished the winter canning and preserving, and dad just finished picking the grapes, and will soon start the wine making. We're going to the local golf tournament this weekend, and that is the first sign of fall here. That event opens up a whole new season of fall fests and activities. The air is crisp and cool in the mornings and at night we watch tv and read a book with the AC off and the window wide open. Crickets are quiet earlier in the night, and flocks of birds cross the skies in the evenings, all heading South. The windows of all shops in town are dressed up in yellow and rust and WalMart is selling pumpinks and gords. Summer may be stubborn, still, but we surely are speeding her way out of the picture with everything else. It's the cycle of life and I'm always fascinated how we obediently go through it every year: without questioning, just trotting along, eyes on the calendar, we know, as we've known for centuries, that after September 21st, we must be getting ready for the winter.
Tuesday, September 27, 2005
What Am I Missing?
I’m not sure what the future will bring, but seeing my cat smile while I’m on the yoga mat, and purring, I know, somehow, that I’m in the right place. I have a home, all my own, I am completely independent and I feel free most of the time. I love the people I have close to me, and I got rid of the “poisonous” ones. My calendar was saying the other day (a quote): “I date nice people, I have a good job, and a nice home, what am I missing”; the answer was: ”Trust me, if you’re asking that, you’re missing it”… - and that’s how I feel! I’m reading “Transitions” and hopefully I will learn how to have more patience for my “temporary” status, and also, I will understand better what’s going on in my life now, in my 30’s. Who wants to go through the “mid-life crisis” when they have the 30’s?! That’s insane: like the same punishment twice! I’m trying to cope with the fact that I am a single woman, yet not single, because I have a boyfriend who’s not promising me the future, it’s just promising me the “right now”. And because the “right now” is good and happy, I’m supposed to live with it, and not ask for more. Almost a month ago, we almost broke up, and then decided it’s not the right thing to do: so, instead, we’re in this “not sure what we are or what we’re doing” state that will probably be forever, or so long and late that there will be nothing left for us to do. No options left… But I’m not supposed to plan and think of the future… And I’m trying not to plan, until…one day… Not today though… Today we’re having schnitzel and mashed potatoes and salad for dinner, and a glass of wine, or beer, and today it’s a summer day in the fall (it’s the Carolinas), and today, we are happy; so we declare.
Wednesday, September 14, 2005
Learn to Be Humble
Growing up and dreaming that one day I would be privileged enough to live in the “best nation” in the world (i.e. USA), I never thought a disaster like Katrina could ever happen to the “land of opportunities”… Seeing the waters and the people floating away, and the millions of houses drowned and the people with no life left, no place to go back to, I felt like my own life was crushed! I felt like one of those millions of kids raped by their own parents! I felt cheated by whoever represented America, in my dreams of a lifetime: that they didn’t have the ability and the sufficient care to protect what’s most precious in a nation: their people.
My own country, a Third World Eastern European country, was drowned by severe flooding this year, but less than 100 people died, out of a nation of 25+ million people!
And here, we have countless bodies, we’re not even sure how many thousands of them! But THIS is America!!! How can THIS happen to the greatest nation in the world, especially the nation that has the guts to go out there and tell other people how to live?!? How can this be?!!
Again, my guess is one that haunts America every day, and will bring it to their end, if they’re not careful: their ignorance and empty pride! “ We are Americans” “The best nation” “Most powerful” “In God we Trust!”… We don’t need to worry about our own yard, “In God We Trust”, we’re blessed, nothing ever can happen to us! A little humility can be learned from Katrina. And also, when you have a town of the size and the value of New Orleans you invest every penny you have to build those levees as high as the sky! You don’t cut the budget to put more money in God knows what else?!? Amsterdam is under the sea level and has an intricate web of canals, but the levees keep the sea waters where they belong, in the sea! But, again, this is America. We cannot think of what Amsterdam has been thinking (and doing) for ages?!?
I hope the Government now learns to be humble most of all, and learns to fear nature, if not all the other threats that are real and imminent, if we’re not watching. And also learns once and for all that America has always been the “New World”: maybe it’s time they learned something from the “Old One” and practice some of the learning, just like a child does from the grown-ups. It can only be for their own good!
My own country, a Third World Eastern European country, was drowned by severe flooding this year, but less than 100 people died, out of a nation of 25+ million people!
And here, we have countless bodies, we’re not even sure how many thousands of them! But THIS is America!!! How can THIS happen to the greatest nation in the world, especially the nation that has the guts to go out there and tell other people how to live?!? How can this be?!!
Again, my guess is one that haunts America every day, and will bring it to their end, if they’re not careful: their ignorance and empty pride! “ We are Americans” “The best nation” “Most powerful” “In God we Trust!”… We don’t need to worry about our own yard, “In God We Trust”, we’re blessed, nothing ever can happen to us! A little humility can be learned from Katrina. And also, when you have a town of the size and the value of New Orleans you invest every penny you have to build those levees as high as the sky! You don’t cut the budget to put more money in God knows what else?!? Amsterdam is under the sea level and has an intricate web of canals, but the levees keep the sea waters where they belong, in the sea! But, again, this is America. We cannot think of what Amsterdam has been thinking (and doing) for ages?!?
I hope the Government now learns to be humble most of all, and learns to fear nature, if not all the other threats that are real and imminent, if we’re not watching. And also learns once and for all that America has always been the “New World”: maybe it’s time they learned something from the “Old One” and practice some of the learning, just like a child does from the grown-ups. It can only be for their own good!
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Observation
Driving back from work, I notice this big red sign announcing “ Big Car Sale” (and an arrow pointing to the parking lot of the dealership followed). I follow the arrow and I realize that you can read that sign two ways: either the “sale of the cars is BIG”, or the “cars of the sale are BIG”: I voted for the latter: the parking lot is FULL with nothing but SUV’s, vans and trucks! No wonder the HUGE gas guzzlers are on “big sales” nowadays: the gas down here in the South is $2.59 lately… Back when I first came here, in 1998, it used to be $0.99… I guess huge inflation and crappy economy are the prices you pay for electing the wrong man for the “best job in America and the world”. Just a note!
Sunday, August 14, 2005
Be Careful What You Wish For…
For about 5 years now I have been studying yoga and reading a lot about the yogic tradition of living in the ‘now’. To this day, the biggest challenge for me is to stay in the present moment, both on the mat and outside of it, and to live the ‘now’ to the fullest. Being an Aries and having Latin blood through my veins, it’s hard to keep me focused as it is; living in America where everything is so fast makes it even harder…
But what is a woman to do when she is told by her boyfriend of 3 and ½ years that my dreams of the future are not the same as his: that my desire never to have children as well as my plan to live in the city we live in now for at least 5-6 more years are not his plans – 2 very big decisions in dating someone successfully, right?!… He's also not sure whether we should move in together any time soon, or put all our pets under the same roof... Neither of us want to break up with each other, because what we have NOW is wonderful. But we both know, what we want tomorrow is different… However, we decided to stay together for the now…
We just made this decision not long ago, and my first impulse is try to “dream” about how it will all work out: but, you see, I can’t do that, for fear of disappointment: I have no idea where we’re going to be in this relationship a year from now, and yet, this insecurity needs to be put aside and I have to allow myself to be happy about what we have now: the laughs, and companionship, the travels, the family stories, curiosity and respect about life in general, the pets, the shop talk, since we both work in the same place etc… We are sure what we as individuals want for your future lives are not similar things – at least now. Can that change? We’re not sure, but we’re both very stubborn and set in our ways, too, so most likely, not… We’ll see… And thus, asking all these years that I learn, for once how to live in the now and be happy with the now, and stop searching for what’s next, I got “blessed” with the most radical life change of all: in order for me to have any kind of daily happiness, I will have to be able to enjoy every moment of every day, and not a second later… No one can tell me what the “later” will look like, should it be here at all…
But what is a woman to do when she is told by her boyfriend of 3 and ½ years that my dreams of the future are not the same as his: that my desire never to have children as well as my plan to live in the city we live in now for at least 5-6 more years are not his plans – 2 very big decisions in dating someone successfully, right?!… He's also not sure whether we should move in together any time soon, or put all our pets under the same roof... Neither of us want to break up with each other, because what we have NOW is wonderful. But we both know, what we want tomorrow is different… However, we decided to stay together for the now…
We just made this decision not long ago, and my first impulse is try to “dream” about how it will all work out: but, you see, I can’t do that, for fear of disappointment: I have no idea where we’re going to be in this relationship a year from now, and yet, this insecurity needs to be put aside and I have to allow myself to be happy about what we have now: the laughs, and companionship, the travels, the family stories, curiosity and respect about life in general, the pets, the shop talk, since we both work in the same place etc… We are sure what we as individuals want for your future lives are not similar things – at least now. Can that change? We’re not sure, but we’re both very stubborn and set in our ways, too, so most likely, not… We’ll see… And thus, asking all these years that I learn, for once how to live in the now and be happy with the now, and stop searching for what’s next, I got “blessed” with the most radical life change of all: in order for me to have any kind of daily happiness, I will have to be able to enjoy every moment of every day, and not a second later… No one can tell me what the “later” will look like, should it be here at all…
Wednesday, August 10, 2005
Are We Ever Sure?
Are we ever sure that we are in the right place, at the right time, with the right people around us? I thought I was the only 30 year old lost in ConfusionLand, until the other day when a friend of mine, of whom I've always thought that he was established, respected and accomplished told me "we all wonder every day if we're on the right path". And that made me jump: "we"? You mean, YOU, too? He confirmed: yes, him, too, and he believes all of us are. Thinking that he's older and thus wiser than me, I trusted him. So, how do I know for sure I'm where it's meant for me to be?! I don't, and I probably won't for a long time, if ever, in this lifetime.
What is important is that I am still having fun, and at the end of the day I have no regrets. And I do know that: that at the end of the day I got no regrets... Not realy sure what tomorrow might bring, but as long as I have a roof over my head, a loving family, a couple of smooth cats to go to bed with, a book or two on the shelves, 2 arms, and 2 legs, 2 eyes and (most importantly) a mouth, a working camera, the desire to move on, a well respected (if only by me) job, as soon as I have that, I can consider myself fortunate. The rest (other people, things and actions that might be relative) is just accidental. And non-important.
As long as the sun will rise, and the moon, too, as soon as we have the notion of peace and we at least strive for it, as long as we at least try to respect ourselves and that and those around us, we'll be happy... And I am trying to live by these standards every day.
And also: as long as there are roads to take us places, there will be many of opportunities for new starts, and thus for renewed happiness... somewhere in the world, for all of us who are willing to try to find it.
What is important is that I am still having fun, and at the end of the day I have no regrets. And I do know that: that at the end of the day I got no regrets... Not realy sure what tomorrow might bring, but as long as I have a roof over my head, a loving family, a couple of smooth cats to go to bed with, a book or two on the shelves, 2 arms, and 2 legs, 2 eyes and (most importantly) a mouth, a working camera, the desire to move on, a well respected (if only by me) job, as soon as I have that, I can consider myself fortunate. The rest (other people, things and actions that might be relative) is just accidental. And non-important.
As long as the sun will rise, and the moon, too, as soon as we have the notion of peace and we at least strive for it, as long as we at least try to respect ourselves and that and those around us, we'll be happy... And I am trying to live by these standards every day.
And also: as long as there are roads to take us places, there will be many of opportunities for new starts, and thus for renewed happiness... somewhere in the world, for all of us who are willing to try to find it.
Sunday, August 07, 2005
An A.D.D. America!
I have discovered that we cannot get frustrated or in the least bothered by the A.D.D. in our co-workers, partners, family folks, etc… I believe we all are, to some extent, somewhat A.D.D. Think about it?! It’s the society we live in that requires us to be that way: you hardly ever see a job ad in the paper that does not require us to be “multi-tasked”. Well, you cannot be multi-tasked unless you’re paying attention at 10 things at the same time: answer the phone, while reading a new e-mail, while opening the postal mail, while talking to a co-worker – and all these have to be done efficiently and fast, so that we all can meet the deadlines! And it doesn’t stop there: we drive home and the cell rings while we have to drive, and yield, and look for a jay-walker that’s cutting us off, and grab a snack from the purse since our blood sugar is low from spreading ourselves too thin in the first place, and we need an afternoon jumpstart! Then we get home, and we have to feed the cats (or the dogs), while opening the mail, and turning the tv on to see what else has been going on in the world, while the phone rings and it’s our friend Alice who wants to go out for a drink tonight! It makes my head spin just to think about all this, although it’s pretty much an accurate description of my daily routine.
The opposite of A.D.D. is focused, but you cannot be focused on ONE thing alone anymore: you would be stampeded on by the world, run over and left behind! The only way we can keep up, we think, is by rushing onto the next thing on the list while still doing the one before. I wonder sometimes where and if this all will stop one day?!
You know, Napoleon was so unique because him doing 5 things at one time was really a rare, special talent: it’s not usually in the human nature or brain for us to function like that! By pushing our bodies in this manner, to make something so rare be part of our usual life, we’re defying nature in the first place, and something’s, somewhere, gotta snap! And therefore, we’re all diagnosed nowadays! We should all be anyways. The only thing we don’t do while doing other things that “have to” be done is relax, and breathe… We never think of that as a part of our multitasking, and it’s a shame…
The opposite of A.D.D. is focused, but you cannot be focused on ONE thing alone anymore: you would be stampeded on by the world, run over and left behind! The only way we can keep up, we think, is by rushing onto the next thing on the list while still doing the one before. I wonder sometimes where and if this all will stop one day?!
You know, Napoleon was so unique because him doing 5 things at one time was really a rare, special talent: it’s not usually in the human nature or brain for us to function like that! By pushing our bodies in this manner, to make something so rare be part of our usual life, we’re defying nature in the first place, and something’s, somewhere, gotta snap! And therefore, we’re all diagnosed nowadays! We should all be anyways. The only thing we don’t do while doing other things that “have to” be done is relax, and breathe… We never think of that as a part of our multitasking, and it’s a shame…
Saturday, July 23, 2005
A Day’s Trip
"Hotel rooms are like relationships: intimate and powerful. The good ones nurture, making you feel relaxed and happy. The bad ones get under your skin and fill you with impotent rage." (Jennifer Cox- "Around the World in 80 Dates").
Recently, we decided, J and I, to take a one night – two day trip to Washington. It was mainly for an appointment I had with the Romanian Embassy, but we decided to spice it up a bit. We took off after work one day, on a Tuesday, drove to somewhere in Northern Virginia, and the following day we drove the rest of the day, to DC. For such trips, we never make reservations: we always find coupon travel brochures and find cheap hotels to stay in for a night. This time, the hotel was cheap indeed, and, as J reminded me, you get what you pay for. A Days Inn hotel that advertised a $38.99 rate in the brochure, turned out at the door to have a $47.99 smoking only rate going on. What could we do? Drive off somewhere else? It was close to midnight and we were both tired. The room appeared to have been flooded at some point, as the ceiling, the window treatments and the carpets were generously decorated with giant stains of water. Dried now. The smell of wet carpet was still persistent and so was the smell of smoke; a used ashtray was nicely placed on one of the beds, right next to a pillow. The next morning, we found that there was running water, but only through the tap, not through the showerhead ; the shower knob was broken, and could not channel the water through the shower pipe. That brought back memories from the communist days when we had to “take baths” in the sink, by splashing water at our bodies, since the water did not have enough pressure to make it through the tub’s piping system. After a breakfast of stale bagels and warm juice, we headed to Washington. After the appointment with the Embassy, we drove to the National Museum of the American Indian, a newly build Smithsonian institution, less than a year old.
Built in undulating shapes, just like nature, (no wall or staircase has straight lines), a 4 story giant, the museum makes you feel smaller than an ant and gives you a sense of “there is something bigger than life” out here. From the inside of the main hallway, it feels like you’re in a teepee, but one that is built around all the Indian nations from all over the land. We visited the exhibits, learnt about the different nations, took tons of pictures of artifacts (like ornate skulls, jackets made of fish scales and whale guts lining) and ate Native food: buffalo burger, Indian taco on fried bread, wild rice, a red snapper in coconut stew (delicious!!!) and the sweetest cornbread I have ever been given to taste in my entire life! Now, having lived in the South for the past 7 years, that is a really amazing compliment right there!
I marveled at the similarities these cultures have with other religions and cultures of the world, especially since they’ve always seemed so remote, as a culture, from the rest of the world. Here are some examples of such similarities: on one of the walls, I found this quote, near a picture of a turtle ( in Hindu traditions, the turtle is seen as either the Creator of the world, or as the support of the Earth itself): “The Creator is truth. The Sun is true. No one in this universe could ever change the sun. Truth is represented by those things that never change” – and what does our Christian tradition tell us: “I (Jesus, Son and God says) am the Truth, the Life and the Way”; a symbolic “eye of the storm” had a half black and half red background, which, in some Eastern cultures are true opposites (like black and white in others). Again, I pondered upon our similarities and things we all have in common: no matter how different we may look, we’re looking at the same world, and see it with similar hearts, understanding it with similar brains. Nothing is ever random, someone once said: we’re all connected, and related, and we are all part of the same big continuum. Nothing ever ends, it just evolves into stages and goes further (as the Natives also believe)…The peace I find in the unity and harmony of it all has a special silence, and an “awe-some” feeling of belonging. The visit was a moment in time: a moment when you feel that there is something stronger and bigger than us, something that governs all creatures of all places; and a moment when we too could bow our heads in respect of a culture so close to us, in more ways than one and so rich.
Shower working or not, room rate overpriced or not, we found out what's more important in a trip: it's the hidden treasures such as these finds that keep us going back on the roads, and not the promise of a Ritzy hotel. After all, 60 years from now, looking back, the museum findings will still be there, in our minds and hearts, the Days Inn will fade away as just another cheap hotel we spent one unfortunate night in.
We headed back home, and after fighting the now notorious Washington traffic, we got home late that night, richer and happier. At least I did.
Recently, we decided, J and I, to take a one night – two day trip to Washington. It was mainly for an appointment I had with the Romanian Embassy, but we decided to spice it up a bit. We took off after work one day, on a Tuesday, drove to somewhere in Northern Virginia, and the following day we drove the rest of the day, to DC. For such trips, we never make reservations: we always find coupon travel brochures and find cheap hotels to stay in for a night. This time, the hotel was cheap indeed, and, as J reminded me, you get what you pay for. A Days Inn hotel that advertised a $38.99 rate in the brochure, turned out at the door to have a $47.99 smoking only rate going on. What could we do? Drive off somewhere else? It was close to midnight and we were both tired. The room appeared to have been flooded at some point, as the ceiling, the window treatments and the carpets were generously decorated with giant stains of water. Dried now. The smell of wet carpet was still persistent and so was the smell of smoke; a used ashtray was nicely placed on one of the beds, right next to a pillow. The next morning, we found that there was running water, but only through the tap, not through the showerhead ; the shower knob was broken, and could not channel the water through the shower pipe. That brought back memories from the communist days when we had to “take baths” in the sink, by splashing water at our bodies, since the water did not have enough pressure to make it through the tub’s piping system. After a breakfast of stale bagels and warm juice, we headed to Washington. After the appointment with the Embassy, we drove to the National Museum of the American Indian, a newly build Smithsonian institution, less than a year old.
Built in undulating shapes, just like nature, (no wall or staircase has straight lines), a 4 story giant, the museum makes you feel smaller than an ant and gives you a sense of “there is something bigger than life” out here. From the inside of the main hallway, it feels like you’re in a teepee, but one that is built around all the Indian nations from all over the land. We visited the exhibits, learnt about the different nations, took tons of pictures of artifacts (like ornate skulls, jackets made of fish scales and whale guts lining) and ate Native food: buffalo burger, Indian taco on fried bread, wild rice, a red snapper in coconut stew (delicious!!!) and the sweetest cornbread I have ever been given to taste in my entire life! Now, having lived in the South for the past 7 years, that is a really amazing compliment right there!
I marveled at the similarities these cultures have with other religions and cultures of the world, especially since they’ve always seemed so remote, as a culture, from the rest of the world. Here are some examples of such similarities: on one of the walls, I found this quote, near a picture of a turtle ( in Hindu traditions, the turtle is seen as either the Creator of the world, or as the support of the Earth itself): “The Creator is truth. The Sun is true. No one in this universe could ever change the sun. Truth is represented by those things that never change” – and what does our Christian tradition tell us: “I (Jesus, Son and God says) am the Truth, the Life and the Way”; a symbolic “eye of the storm” had a half black and half red background, which, in some Eastern cultures are true opposites (like black and white in others). Again, I pondered upon our similarities and things we all have in common: no matter how different we may look, we’re looking at the same world, and see it with similar hearts, understanding it with similar brains. Nothing is ever random, someone once said: we’re all connected, and related, and we are all part of the same big continuum. Nothing ever ends, it just evolves into stages and goes further (as the Natives also believe)…The peace I find in the unity and harmony of it all has a special silence, and an “awe-some” feeling of belonging. The visit was a moment in time: a moment when you feel that there is something stronger and bigger than us, something that governs all creatures of all places; and a moment when we too could bow our heads in respect of a culture so close to us, in more ways than one and so rich.
Shower working or not, room rate overpriced or not, we found out what's more important in a trip: it's the hidden treasures such as these finds that keep us going back on the roads, and not the promise of a Ritzy hotel. After all, 60 years from now, looking back, the museum findings will still be there, in our minds and hearts, the Days Inn will fade away as just another cheap hotel we spent one unfortunate night in.
We headed back home, and after fighting the now notorious Washington traffic, we got home late that night, richer and happier. At least I did.
Over the Rainbow - a concert
“Long as I remember The rain been coming down.
Clouds of myst'ry pouring Confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages, Trying to find the sun;
And I wonder, Still I wonder, Who'll stop the rain.”
It’s always a surreal feeling for me, to pause and look upon the journey of my life so far: from home, in Romania, to living in the States for more than 7 years now. Going to live concerts of people I only heard and read about in the dark days of communism, people that I never would have dreamed I’d be in the same hemisphere with, much less under the same roof is cause for such a strange contemplation!
I remember how, growing up, dad used to tell us about the “good” music, the oldies he listened to as a teen: Creedence, and The Doors, and Janis, and Hendrix, The Beatles, and The Stones, and encourage us to listen to it, and understand it. Back in those days, it was close to impossible to come by such an album, without being considered a “dangerous element” to the prosperity of our socialism. It was a life of hiding behind closed blinds and speaking in a whisper, and that’s how my sister and I got our first introduction into the Western culture.
Last night, pausing to look at my journey, from the communist days to the freedom I enjoy today filled my heart with joy and my eyes with tears: it’s truly an amazing world, and you can truly live amazingly if you really tried. The boundaries of countries and cultures are just as real as you decide to make them. And I have my dad to thank for always encouraging me to go past the boundaries imposed by the outside world, for making me seek love and beauty in the farthest of places.
Last night, singing and dancing the music I’ve loved for years, out in the free air, and along with thousands of other people was a celebration of life and of our family’s dreams. Listening to Fogerty 15-17 years go, in the dark and under the covers, with the volume turned down and listening to him now, out in the open, while singing along, was finally like finding the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow: the journey was so worth while.
When I first saw Fogerty come out on the stage and I heard the first notes, my eyes filled with tears as my heart sank: I missed my dad so much; this far away, I felt him near, I heard his voice once again “listen to his (John’s) voice, honey; they called him the man with the metal larynx, for his unique sound; he’s truly amazing”. And John Fogerty was truly amazing, as dad always said! I missed him so much, that very second. I wanted him to be there and share that moment with me, and I wanted to see him playing his air guitar one more time, this time out in the open, and free, and under the same roof as one of his idols. Last night was for you, dad. With love and tears, from me and John Fogerty. I love you, and thanks for the journey and for always being there. Happy Birthday, too!
***
The concert was fantastic! The torrential downpour did nothing to spoil it. Have you noticed how many "rain" songs John Fogerty has, too?! Quite ironic, I found. Another hour and a half worthwhile journey to see the man, and not only to see him, but to listen to him and enjoy the bond.
Clouds of myst'ry pouring Confusion on the ground.
Good men through the ages, Trying to find the sun;
And I wonder, Still I wonder, Who'll stop the rain.”
It’s always a surreal feeling for me, to pause and look upon the journey of my life so far: from home, in Romania, to living in the States for more than 7 years now. Going to live concerts of people I only heard and read about in the dark days of communism, people that I never would have dreamed I’d be in the same hemisphere with, much less under the same roof is cause for such a strange contemplation!
I remember how, growing up, dad used to tell us about the “good” music, the oldies he listened to as a teen: Creedence, and The Doors, and Janis, and Hendrix, The Beatles, and The Stones, and encourage us to listen to it, and understand it. Back in those days, it was close to impossible to come by such an album, without being considered a “dangerous element” to the prosperity of our socialism. It was a life of hiding behind closed blinds and speaking in a whisper, and that’s how my sister and I got our first introduction into the Western culture.
Last night, pausing to look at my journey, from the communist days to the freedom I enjoy today filled my heart with joy and my eyes with tears: it’s truly an amazing world, and you can truly live amazingly if you really tried. The boundaries of countries and cultures are just as real as you decide to make them. And I have my dad to thank for always encouraging me to go past the boundaries imposed by the outside world, for making me seek love and beauty in the farthest of places.
Last night, singing and dancing the music I’ve loved for years, out in the free air, and along with thousands of other people was a celebration of life and of our family’s dreams. Listening to Fogerty 15-17 years go, in the dark and under the covers, with the volume turned down and listening to him now, out in the open, while singing along, was finally like finding the pot of gold at the end of that rainbow: the journey was so worth while.
When I first saw Fogerty come out on the stage and I heard the first notes, my eyes filled with tears as my heart sank: I missed my dad so much; this far away, I felt him near, I heard his voice once again “listen to his (John’s) voice, honey; they called him the man with the metal larynx, for his unique sound; he’s truly amazing”. And John Fogerty was truly amazing, as dad always said! I missed him so much, that very second. I wanted him to be there and share that moment with me, and I wanted to see him playing his air guitar one more time, this time out in the open, and free, and under the same roof as one of his idols. Last night was for you, dad. With love and tears, from me and John Fogerty. I love you, and thanks for the journey and for always being there. Happy Birthday, too!
***
The concert was fantastic! The torrential downpour did nothing to spoil it. Have you noticed how many "rain" songs John Fogerty has, too?! Quite ironic, I found. Another hour and a half worthwhile journey to see the man, and not only to see him, but to listen to him and enjoy the bond.
Thursday, July 21, 2005
Living with Terror
The recent bombings in London made me once again question my own future: will I one day cease traveling because of all these horrible events? Will I allow terror to make me hide away in the mountains somewhere, nowhere to be found, nowhere to be reached?! I have doubted that for almost 4 years now. I was visiting my family, in Romania when the September 11 happened, and although my heart stopped with the heart of the world at the sight of the terrorist attacks I never wavered: giving up traveling would mean acknowledging "they" won! Giving way to fear would be "they" are stronger, "they" reached their goal: "they" made us afraid. And fear is death. The communists taught us that: fear is death. Spiritual, emotional death. As long as there are planes in the world that fly places, and roads that lead places, I will be in the planes and on the roads: we must go on, and live our lives and if the lives we live involve travel, then that's what we need to be doing. Terror, unfortunately, will be one circumstance, once reality we need to face when we're there in the world: just like bad weather, earthquakes and lack of money, sometimes. Just another hindrance, but by no means a stop. It's an unfortunate reality of the era we live in, and nothing more. Had we been born in the Middle Ages, we had to live with cholera around us, and so on...
We pause, we pray, we think, we feel the pain of the innocent gone, and we move on, towards our destiny. I am a firm believer in fate: if that's the way it's written we would go, than, that's the way we're going, one day, when our time has come, even if we bury ourselves alive in our own basement to hide away from the world.
We pause, we pray, we think, we feel the pain of the innocent gone, and we move on, towards our destiny. I am a firm believer in fate: if that's the way it's written we would go, than, that's the way we're going, one day, when our time has come, even if we bury ourselves alive in our own basement to hide away from the world.
Sunday, July 17, 2005
Family Trips
I have been dating J for 3 and a half years now. We're perfectly happy with the "arrangement" we have going on (although the time apart can be hard to handle at times): we don’t live together: I have a condo and 3 cats, and he has a 2 story-house with a huge back yard and a beagle who loves to think that the 3 cats are snacks more so than playmates. So, we've been trying to "get the pets to like each other" as J likes to say, but in the meantime, we've been happily lingering in this sweet independent state of dating for a while now.
I must say, after a failed first marriage I am in no rush to marry again, and I believe weddings at the age of 60 are quite romantic! So, no rush there...
Once in a while we take weekend trips to his parents' house, who live in a 5600 sq feet mansion (to me, who is used to living in a 980 sq feet of space) on a beautiful lake. We swim, and throw the dogs in the lake, and grill out, and chat and catch up and chat some more. J and I love to travel, so, we sometimes “cheat” when we have no cash to take a trip but feel the urge to get away: we "go to the padres" as J says. They're nice, down-to-earth people, everybody's dream of in-laws! So, this weekend, with a +60% chance of rain showers, we took the plunge and "went to the padres" once more this month (our last trip there was only 2 weeks ago).
As any traveler will tell you, there is no trip without adventure: we got there on Friday night, and they had no power, courtesy to a minivan flipped over in a ditch that knocked down 2 power poles; we ate in the dark on the patio (how romantic, right?!), and chatted till 11 PM, waiting for the power to be turned on, in the dark living room, in candlelight. We finally gave up hope when we called Duke Power and they informed us that the power will not come on before 3 am that night. We all went to bed weary of waiting, and with our tails between our legs, moping muzzles to the ground, and we tried to go to sleep. Impossible though, since their entire house is wired with security systems and fire alarms, and they were all beeping to let us know that well, they had no power!!! After several hours of pretending we're having a good night sleep (the beeping was the kind they probably use in communist prisons for mental torture and brainwashing!), we finally got power at 3 AM, as promised.
The next day, we were hoping for blue skies to play in the lake with the 2 dogs and tan, and drive the boat around, and just relax: but the blue skies were hard to find: cloudy, gray skies and thunder was all we got. J’s dog, the beagle, and the parents’ dog, a golden lab-golden retriever mix, enjoyed the lake, the lazy laying around, the “people snacks” they got once in a while, and the more mature ones enjoyed the quiet time, the family talk and the rum a twisters and beers. At night, for dinner, we went for pizza to a Brooklyn-original pizzeria (easier and easier to find in the South!!) – and that concluded a perfectly quiet and happy family weekend – so the parents thought!
We had told them we’re going to stay just one night (Friday): but after a whole a night of non-sleep, waiting for the beep to stop, a day of swimming, waiting for the sun to show up, handling 2 temperamental dogs and 2 full-of-Brooklyn-pizza bellies, J and I decided we’re way too tired to drive back (about an hour and 15 minutes to our town): so we stuck around one more night, and left on Sunday morning.
It was a great trip: relaxation was great; we’re darker (it didn’t rain, but the clouds still tanned us, miraculously), heavier from all the grilling and pizza, happier, since we bonded with our parents, and re-charged our “wisdom”- batteries, and the beagle is happy he got away and saw his “cousin” and swam in the lake! “Mama bear” – as I call J’s mom- attended us hand and foot, as usual, and we had free lodging, and free food, AND we got away for the entire weekend: NO ONE can ever ask for more, right?! Thank God for families!
All went well, except for the eternal “A (= that’s me!), why won’t you wanna have kids” – talk, with which I am gracefully treated, on every single encounter with the mama bear! But that is a whole different topic all together… one which will hopefully make the subject of another day’s dairy altogether.
I must say, after a failed first marriage I am in no rush to marry again, and I believe weddings at the age of 60 are quite romantic! So, no rush there...
Once in a while we take weekend trips to his parents' house, who live in a 5600 sq feet mansion (to me, who is used to living in a 980 sq feet of space) on a beautiful lake. We swim, and throw the dogs in the lake, and grill out, and chat and catch up and chat some more. J and I love to travel, so, we sometimes “cheat” when we have no cash to take a trip but feel the urge to get away: we "go to the padres" as J says. They're nice, down-to-earth people, everybody's dream of in-laws! So, this weekend, with a +60% chance of rain showers, we took the plunge and "went to the padres" once more this month (our last trip there was only 2 weeks ago).
As any traveler will tell you, there is no trip without adventure: we got there on Friday night, and they had no power, courtesy to a minivan flipped over in a ditch that knocked down 2 power poles; we ate in the dark on the patio (how romantic, right?!), and chatted till 11 PM, waiting for the power to be turned on, in the dark living room, in candlelight. We finally gave up hope when we called Duke Power and they informed us that the power will not come on before 3 am that night. We all went to bed weary of waiting, and with our tails between our legs, moping muzzles to the ground, and we tried to go to sleep. Impossible though, since their entire house is wired with security systems and fire alarms, and they were all beeping to let us know that well, they had no power!!! After several hours of pretending we're having a good night sleep (the beeping was the kind they probably use in communist prisons for mental torture and brainwashing!), we finally got power at 3 AM, as promised.
The next day, we were hoping for blue skies to play in the lake with the 2 dogs and tan, and drive the boat around, and just relax: but the blue skies were hard to find: cloudy, gray skies and thunder was all we got. J’s dog, the beagle, and the parents’ dog, a golden lab-golden retriever mix, enjoyed the lake, the lazy laying around, the “people snacks” they got once in a while, and the more mature ones enjoyed the quiet time, the family talk and the rum a twisters and beers. At night, for dinner, we went for pizza to a Brooklyn-original pizzeria (easier and easier to find in the South!!) – and that concluded a perfectly quiet and happy family weekend – so the parents thought!
We had told them we’re going to stay just one night (Friday): but after a whole a night of non-sleep, waiting for the beep to stop, a day of swimming, waiting for the sun to show up, handling 2 temperamental dogs and 2 full-of-Brooklyn-pizza bellies, J and I decided we’re way too tired to drive back (about an hour and 15 minutes to our town): so we stuck around one more night, and left on Sunday morning.
It was a great trip: relaxation was great; we’re darker (it didn’t rain, but the clouds still tanned us, miraculously), heavier from all the grilling and pizza, happier, since we bonded with our parents, and re-charged our “wisdom”- batteries, and the beagle is happy he got away and saw his “cousin” and swam in the lake! “Mama bear” – as I call J’s mom- attended us hand and foot, as usual, and we had free lodging, and free food, AND we got away for the entire weekend: NO ONE can ever ask for more, right?! Thank God for families!
All went well, except for the eternal “A (= that’s me!), why won’t you wanna have kids” – talk, with which I am gracefully treated, on every single encounter with the mama bear! But that is a whole different topic all together… one which will hopefully make the subject of another day’s dairy altogether.
Thursday, July 14, 2005
Why?
Why a blog?
Because this should be a good motivation for me to write and share. I have been writing for years, but with no sharing. Hopefully, one day, I'll connect. And also: because we are social creatures and it's getting tougher and tougher to communicate with someone who is outside of work and outside of our every day petty routine (the grocery store cashier and the mailman, maybe). And because interesting things happen all the time, and maybe you're there in California, and cannot see the interesting things that are happening here, on the East Coast, and I'd be happy to tell you about the ones here, on the East Coast, in case, JUST in case, you're wondering. And because I think I have a story, but I am not sure, and there is only one way to find out: if I get it down on "paper". And also, a blog, because I love to talk, and tell stories. Read on, and we'll find out together why life is the way it is, and not different. Hopefully. And because life in general, actually, and every day in particular are a journey: we don't have to travel 5000 miles to find that out. The journey is happening now, and we're doing it. If you ever thought you hate travelling, think again: you've been fooled!
Because this should be a good motivation for me to write and share. I have been writing for years, but with no sharing. Hopefully, one day, I'll connect. And also: because we are social creatures and it's getting tougher and tougher to communicate with someone who is outside of work and outside of our every day petty routine (the grocery store cashier and the mailman, maybe). And because interesting things happen all the time, and maybe you're there in California, and cannot see the interesting things that are happening here, on the East Coast, and I'd be happy to tell you about the ones here, on the East Coast, in case, JUST in case, you're wondering. And because I think I have a story, but I am not sure, and there is only one way to find out: if I get it down on "paper". And also, a blog, because I love to talk, and tell stories. Read on, and we'll find out together why life is the way it is, and not different. Hopefully. And because life in general, actually, and every day in particular are a journey: we don't have to travel 5000 miles to find that out. The journey is happening now, and we're doing it. If you ever thought you hate travelling, think again: you've been fooled!
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