Showing posts with label observing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label observing. Show all posts

Saturday, June 14, 2025

Finding Home ...

There is a coming-home-kinda feeling about a lazy, early North Carolina summer. It’s like your heart is reset in its secret lodge in your chest and it’s back in rhythm. 


There is a strange saying around here that winter lasts for about 4 months, summer lasts for 6, and spring falls on a Tuesday. This feels, quite literally, like the truth! We have very little remembrance of true spring - the blooms are all we know about it. But the heat and most importantly, the humidity, this NC staple, is in a hurry to come back every year. We go from boots to thong flip-flops literally in one weekend.



The first sign of early summer is a blooming Southern magnolia

If you never spent any time in a subtropical climate, it is hard to describe the water in the air. The drips down your chin and under your arms just because you’re alive. You do nothing but sit there, looking at your hydrangeas and you feel a soft bead rolling down your temple. It’s only 10 AM and you can feel the hot air creeping in like a thief ... 


Kitties are lazier than usual, if such a thing is even possible, moving ever so slowly, for fear they’ll waste their energy in a hurry if they jerk around too much. Their eyes are blinking on a delay ... 


One of the must-haves in a Southern home is a screened-in porch, preferably in the back of the house, where no human traffic can bother you or disrupt your God-given peace. Lots of people dream of a house with a nice, deep front porch, but I like that just for the architecture. I would not think of ever using it to sit and take in the world. My world is that of the back yard, facing the woods, and allowing me no human pollution whatsoever - just birds, deer, bunnies, and squirrels. Maybe the occasional snake - because what is NC without its snakes?! 


On a day like today, I sit and melt away in the warm, wet air, and think about life, about what’s important, about where to next. If I learned anything in 50 years, it’s that humans will disappoint and fail, but through failure they will learn, rise again, and move on. I cannot measure my days in human victories or defeats. My beat nowadays is more that of nature, with its untainted beauty, permanence, resilience and steadiness ... Nature and that which is not human is what I seek for thy disappoint the least. 


If the most consequential trip of my life, my South African safari, taught me anything, it was that to find happiness is to be the most you you can ever muster. An impala never wants to be a lion, and a lion never wants to be a leopard. They are authentically who they are and they are the best at who they are because they wish nothing against their nature or against their natural grain. 


Human intelligence is our ticket to progress and to our demise ... Nowadays, I limit myself to what I know is true and permanent - gorgeous, massive hardwoods mixed in with Southern pines, whispering in the faint wind in my forest, finches, cardinals and sparrows having some sort of a quarrel over the shortage of bird seed, blue birds moving on after their first batch of babies have flown the coop, butterfly bushes in full-bloom waiting, patiently, for their residents to move in. 



About 4 years ago this landscape lady promised a scrawny butterfly bush she planted on a rocky hill behind my house will one day take over my yard. Every year since, I doubted her. I think it's finally time.


These are true, honest, solid things. There is no pretense, no lying, and no A.I. Just the pure, verifiable (but not needed to be) source of what is true ... I live for this. I cherish this. It's restoring ...  




Some days, it's hard to pick a favorite ...

I started this blog 20 years ago next month. I started it to document my travels, and I have been blessed with so many. I have lived a truly charmed life, with many opportunities to learn and open my eyes and my heart to a world I never knew would be possible for me ... 


But the one thing I have learned the most is that sometimes the most memorable journeys are not very far from just where you are. Not very far from your home or even from this chair, right here, where I type these words ... Not very far from the lazy kitten sprawled on the chair next to me ... It’s how you look at the world that makes the adventure and not always how many miles you travel ... 


For now, for today ... The world is warm, familiar, and soft, like an embrace of someone kind and trusting. The air is lingering, sticky and wet. The birds are getting lazier and lazier, judging by their fainting songs, as we approach mid-day. The sun is almost on top of me, I feel it and it makes my eyes squint a little, even under the roof of my screened-in porch. The fluorescent blue wasps are buzzing around and the branches are slowly nodding in the light wind. 


The skies are just waiting for some kind of signal to drop buckets on our heads yet again, despite the desperate attempts of the sun to peek through and shoo them away. 


It’s a quiet day in the country. The neighbor’s dog, suffering from some terrible separation anxiety, is the only chatterbox out there - disrupting the peace and the birds’ subdued symphony. He gets tired after a while and you hear him wail and yawn ... 


It’s another day in The South and, I am fairly sure that even if it’ll bring about change and even eternal pause to so many around the world, it will also bring a new day for those left behind. As life and physics will have it, the world still moves on. And I choose to move with it, when humanity allows, always waiting for the next chapter ... 


Monday, July 04, 2022

A Different Kind of Independence Day

We went to a neighborhood Independence Day party last night. Everyone decked in their best red-white-and-blue attire. There were vanilla cream puffs and strawberries, summer cocktails and free beer - all the American staples of a good summer bbq. 


We even had a DJ and people danced. It was great fun. 


It was supposed to be great fun, that is, until you started to think about it for a minute. I had been thinking about it for days, weeks in fact. I had been thinking about how this year, in particular, I don’t have anything to celebrate on July 4th. What am I to celebrate? The loss of freedom that I feel every day? The corner of the world that I am in that is shrinking as I see it? 


Waking up this weekend, every day, I have been opening the news with fear: I know the weekend is full of parades and community events. I am opening the news thinking “I wonder how many mass shootings we’ll have today?” That’s no reason for celebration. 


The DJ opened his set with the “God Bless America” song. The lyrics went something like this and some people swayed and sang along: “I’m proud to be an American where at least I know I’m free” - and all I could do was to look around and say “Well, I am an American and I don’t feel all that free. Our black neighbors don’t feel free. Our gay friends don’t feel so free. What is this day for and who is supposed to celebrate it, exactly? White straight men, maybe, even those ...?” It’s harder and harder to drink to that ...


Earlier in the year I bought a cute summer top that is more or less patriotic - especially for this neighborhood party last night. But I could not bring myself to wear it. I could not let my eyes bleed with donning the colors Americans feel so much pride about on my body. At least I have that freedom for now, to wear what I want and the patriotic attire was not mandatory. 


I know things are so much worse elsewhere, but it’s still gut-wrenching to witness the one country in the world that consistently has sent their men and women to die protecting other countries’ democracies (or so we’re told) botch a little bit of its own democracy. Every. Single. Day. I thought it was painful to be born in bondage and un-freedom, in the middle of the Romanian communist era. But it is infinitely more heart-breaking and painful to lose the freedom you had. The freedom you moved hell and high water to get and protect (by voting if nothing else). The freedom you’ve built your life on.  


This year, I cannot “celebrate” in the proper sense of the word. It’ll be a low key, just-the-two of us kind of celebration on this day, outside of that neighborhood party which we joined to say hi to friends. The patriotic napkins laying on my table are just for those people like me, who dreamed about what this country could be. For those people who came here full of hope, hoping, banking on freedom and who feel hurt and cheated and wronged. Also for the people who are born here and who are wronged by this politocracy without end in sight. Make no mistake: there is no democracy (the word “demos” means “people” in Greek) in America. What rules this country is the almighty dollar and the people in high-places on the political ladder. I thought, like millions of others, that “we the people” can make a country. But alas we have been lied to ... 


This year, I am wearing black for Independence Day and thinking of Mr. Johnny Cash. If I could sing along to a song, I’d sing this one, with a small change: 


“I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down

Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town

I wear it for the prisoner who is long paid for his crime

But is there because he's a victim of the times


Well, we're doin' mighty fine, I do suppose

In our streak of lightnin' cars and fancy clothes

But just so we're reminded of the ones who are held back

Up front there ought to be a Girl In Black


And I wear it for the thousands who have died

Believin' that the Lord was on their side

I wear it for another hundred thousand who have died

Believin' that we all were on their side


Well, there's things that never will be right I know

And things need changin' everywhere you go

But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right

You'll never see me wear a suit of white


Ah, I'd love to wear a rainbow every day

And tell the world that everything's okay

But I'll try to carry off a little darkness on my back

'Til things are brighter, I'm the Girl In Black”


Someone smarter than me said it best: there is quite “a distance between the American Dream and the American reality ...”  nowadays. (Bruce Springsteen while speaking to Barack Obama).

Monday, November 23, 2020

You’ll live! I promise you.

The year was 1998. That’s when I moved to the United States. Due to some visa restrictions that are irrelevant here, I was not allowed to leave the country until my Green Card was issued. I had no idea how long that’d be. I applied for it the same year, but the INS doesn’t tell you anything about anything. You apply for something, and they will notify you. One day. It can be tomorrow (it never is, really), or in 10 years. You’re at their mercy.

 

I could leave the country, really, but that might have meant I might never be allowed to come back. Newly married and starting my job and my life in the US, I didn’t want to risk not ever coming back. So, I stayed. And for two years (this is how long it was till the INS finally granted my Green Card), I was not allowed to leave the country.

 

I was 23 at the time and 1998 was a tough year for me. For the first time in my life, I was away from the only people I had ever called “family” for all the important occasions: my birthdays, theirs, deaths, and all the holidays. We had no Skype, no Zoom, no Facetime. I had a discount phone plan with MCI (landline; remember them? With the sun on the “i”?!) that cut my cost-per-minute by 10-20% or some such number. I was making minimum wage and could not afford to talk for more than 10-15 minutes once a month or so.  The normal going rate was something like $2.50 for Romania.

 

Those two years were my practice time, where I learned how to survive and have a more-or-less normal life knowing I would maybe never be with my family for many, if not all, of the most important occasions. I admit, as a 23-year-old, that was something to get used to. By 2000 I got into the groove of it. It was what we did. And we lived. The distance and the absence did not kill us.

 

Nowadays, the desperation of people not being with their families for Thanksgiving this year puzzles me. Yes, I know it hurts. I know it’s not what we “normally” do. Like I said: I have been there. But why risk our health and that of those we love for a get-together?! That part, I don’t understand. Sure, there are still millions out there who don’t believe this pandemic is real, but even those millions that believe in it (although it’s science and not Santa Claus, really) are willing to risk it all for 24 hours of eating turkey with an audience. I just don’t get it.


Today, we have so many ways of communicating and practically feel like we’re right there, in each other’s homes, that I would think it would be a no-brainer being safe and not sorry later. Or better safe than sick. I know the remote options for communication work because today I meet with my family weekly for free for about a couple of hours every Sunday. We catch up on the week and gossip about the rest of the family. It’s great.


We still don’t celebrate, for the most part, holidays together. That is “our normal” and that has become our routine. We managed to find and make other traditions over the years around the holidays and we cherish them just as much as the old ones before we decided to live in different countries. We don’t mourn what we don’t have anymore (we have not done that in 20 years now), and we’re grateful for the times when we can travel and see each other. Those times, regardless of when in the year they occur, are holidays within themselves. We’re ever so thankful for technology and each other regardless of how many courses we all eat together from the same kitchen (Thanksgiving does not apply for my own family, but you get the idea). We have survived this distance. We have built other bridges to communicate and find other times to communicate in. And if we could, like so many millions of other immigrant families, I am sure we all can.

 

I wish strength and optimism to those who decide to stay home and make memories in a new (and hopefully not-to-be-repeated-again) way. Better days will come. They must. I wish everyone else who decides to travel and get together this season much care, precaution, and much luck.

 

Regardless of your choice, Happy Thanksgiving to all! 

Saturday, July 04, 2020

All Countries Will Break Your Heart. Eventually.


July 4th, 2020

I can make this statement because at least two of them broke mine. One that I chose myself. And one where I was born, that chose me. Just like people, countries have their faults. At 45, I have stopped looking for perfection. Right about now, I am happy with the little good I find in every day. For it is not little, most of the time.

I came to America with a head full of dreams, hoping and wishing more than anything I ever wished for in my life that I have reached a promised land where not much can go wrong if you truly want it to go right. 22 years later, I can say, just like I said about my first country 22 years ago: America has broken my heart.  For the first time in … I am not sure how long, or ever … I feel like America should be scolded and not celebrated today. She has a lot of learning still to do. The reasons are obvious to all the heart-minded and humanity-loving people, so I won’t belabor the point. This is meant to be a short post.

But despite all the anger I feel, despite all the grief I have grieved for the past year, despite all the pain I see unravelling every day, despite all the wrongs, I must love America. I love it like you must love a sister that stole your boyfriend. Or a father that lived only to make you happy and ensure you have everything, a father that taught you everything from tying your shoe to what kind of man you should allow to love you but then turns around and votes for Trump. I love it like you’d love a mother who’s dying of lung cancer and is still smoking like a freight-train, forcing you to watch the decay. I love it like you love a son who’s committed crimes but rescues kittens. 

Maybe it is wrong. This is a country I am talking about, not a person. Not my flesh-and-blood. But it is my home. It is the home I chose. I am not loving it from a sense of obligation. More from a sense of belonging. If any of this grief is her fault, it is as much as it is mine for choosing her. And where would I be without a home? Just like without a family, I would not know where I belong and who I am without one. I might not be high up and singing her praises today, but I have big hopes that one day it will live again up to the name she made around the globe for hundreds of years.

Whatever America is to you and however you choose to celebrate it today, or not, I hope you at least stop and ponder whether it is the perfect country you were taught it is, or if it can get better. And if you think it can, I hope we can all find it within our hearts to get her there.

And, also … make the most of today, however you spend it. God knows life is short. And that’s not at all   a debatable fact.


July 4, 1998 - my very first Independence Day celebration in Myrtle Beach, SC. You can't quite tell here, but I was crying. I was so moved that I was celebrating Independence Day in what I thought to be the greatest country in the world. I hope all of us can see that belief a reality in our lifetimes. 

Monday, May 25, 2020

The Patriotism of “Now”


Random Thoughts on Memorial Day

I grew up in a country that worshiped the past in a present that was corrupted, crooked, unfair, and hopeless. That was and still is called patriotism there. I developed an early, almost visceral dislike for those who worshiped that past while not doing one thing to better the present. One thing to ensure the past stays great through the present and to ensure they hand it even better to the future. I moved to a different country lured by promises of freedom and equality and fairness, and some days I think of my new home and tell myself: “Boy, not much has changed.”

Patriotism, to me, is not remembering those who died for the country once or twice a year, during long weekends between two burgers on the grill. Patriotism should be what we do every day, with all of our own actions to ensure the country moves forward. Patriotism is actively ensuring the future generations will have a better, more secure, brighter future than we did. Patriotism is truly believing to our core that people are equal, that they deserve freedom, unconditionally, and free of labels, and that it does not really matter where we’re from but it matters more what we do, every day. Our individual story and our intrinsic value of who we are, wherever we are and wherever we come from, matters infinitely more. How do we ensure we stay valuable for moving forward age-old ideals? Because, yes, we are the ones called upon that now.    

Sure, the past is great. Sure, those who died defending values such as independence, free knowledge, culture, freedom of speech, freedom of choosing, fighting bondage and unfairness should never be forgotten. But as great as all that was, that is and will forever stay in the past. What we do every day, with every action, with every thought, the way we carry ourselves into the world, the way we teach our children values that will move them forward and not get them stuck into a time earlier than even that of those who already died for these ideals – this is true patriotism and that should be celebrated when we realize, and only then, that everyone is doing it. Until then, we got work to do.

I fear a fake patriotism for all of us, especially today. Folks who today show up on social media to bow to those who made the ultimate sacrifice only to laugh at their next-door neighbor’s ask for freedom and safety for their own children, only to shrug at lending a hand of kindness and thoughtfulness to the less fortunate on account that “handouts are not what this country needs” – I fear these folks might be guilty of fake patriotism.

Sure, sacrifice is deserving of praise. But where is our sacrifice? Why do we think patriotism is a thing of the past? Why do we not think that whatever those people fought for stopped being important? And who do we think has the duty to ensure the future remains as they dreamed of it?

It’s easy (and cool) to worship the greatness of the past. It is mostly hard and uncomfortable to ensure what’s in front of us is not going awry. It’s hard and inconvenient to ensure that in our country (whatever you call it, because this is happening all over the globe) we still defend those ideals for the generations to come. The freedom, true freedom for everyone, not just those who fit snugly into our moral mold, and the defense of that, at all costs, seems to me more patriotic than flying the flag, or saying “we won’t forget.”

Maybe today is not the day. Maybe today should be a day of worship. But this is what today, just like July 4th and Veterans Day - this is what days like these make me think about, every year. These days are a stark reminder to me that we should risk being a little more uncomfortable to try to do our share to right some wrongs. Our work is not done. It never will be. This is what I celebrate today: the hope that we will finally, as nation, understand that our work is not done and that we will ensure that our good ideals will continue to be fulfilled and guarded viciously for those who will, one day, look at us as the past. After all, this is the only way I know that those many people who died already will not think that did so in vain.


Saturday, September 14, 2019

A Gorgeous, Restless Summer

I cannot believe it's September and my mums have bloomed already. Some blooms are actually already dried out. 

Where has the summer gone?! I don't know whether it's because we are getting visibly older and they say time just slips from under you when that happens, or what ... but this whole year's been nothing but a dream ... Here and gone before you knew what's what ... 

This summer's been busy beyond words with all its summery events and long, languid days of dolce far niente - if that can be ever busy ... 

We visited the cool mountains, hiked alongside fast springs and calm, deep, cold lakes; we drove on steep, twisty green roads, framed by roadside waterfalls and rhododendron-covered cliffs; we sipped sweet (or dry, but mostly sweet) Southern wine right from the wineries; we made some smoke in the back yard cooking meats, or in the woods while camping; we scouted numerous farmers' markets in search for just the perfect fruit and tomatoes. 

We listened to live music in the toasty evenings, and marveled at the gorgeous sunsets at the end of hot days. Have you noticed how sunsets are more colorful because the days themselves are literally burning in the summer?!  We chased butterflies and breathtaking rainbows after hot summer showers... 

We are lucky to be here, to be mobile, to be healthy, to have the energy and mind and willingness to explore and learn another thing about our town, our state, ourselves, to have each other and to live another day to tell the tale ... And all this with almost no vacation days. Just weekends and national holidays. Time is always here for us to fill up, and for that, I am so grateful! 

Here's to a long and hopefully gentle fall, and to more summers to come ... 

Some of the sights of this summer: 




Sunset on Smith Mountain Lake, VA


Camp fire on Smith Mountain Lake, VA


Chasing dragon flies in Natahala National Forest, in Highlands, NC


Sitting by Mill Creek in Highlands, NC


The dam and rhododendron at Cliffside Lake in Natahala National Forest, NC


Grilling in the back yard


Listening to Booker T at the NC folk festival in Greensboro, NC


Chasing birds at Duke Gardens, in Durham, NC


Chasing butterflies ... everywhere ... 


Relaxing on the patio of our neighborhood bar after a hot day


Chasing rainbows on Haw River - Pittsboro, NC


Sunset in Hickory, NC 


The view atop Grandfather Mountain, in NC


Out of all the wineries we visited this summer, this was our favorite: Grandfather Vineyards outside Blowing Rock, NC

Sunday, July 29, 2018

The Inspiration Trail


I just read somewhere this week that the new midlife crisis is taking up art, or artistic endeavors. That as the world is getting crazier around us, we are looking more and more for focus, being present, and creating art provides a good refuge for this pursuit.

Well, call it midlife crisis, or call it whatever, I crave inspiration lately. I crave good books, or just good words, good sounds, and pretty food, ordinary pictures that show the extraordinary naked and raw …

We took this little hike starting on a hidden bridge close to our house this weekend and the bridge was a surprisingly inspirational shrine …

The quiet of the hot summer day melted in the bold noise of the cicadas, and the muted trickle of the river below.

Take a look!




Check out this heart-shaped-leaved natural trellis. This is how the journey on the bridge opened.



The road ahead ... 


Natural "bridge" of tree branches over the river. 




The Haw River, in NC


Boy, this stretch of the bridge said so much, and so loudly ... 




More foods for thoughts ... 


Rushing waterfalls, as fast as my jumbled thoughts ... 


I am always shocked at how life finds a place to be: this grass was springing from the asphalt of the bridge. 


Summer and fall battling it out ... 





The creatures ... Click the last picture to view the whole album. 

Sunday, July 01, 2018

A Picture a Day. June 2018

The world continues to be crazy around us. Pain, and heartache. Pain for the sake of pain. Malice. Wickedness. Un-humanity ... Every day. Sadness and desperation. The awareness that evil is happening is too raw, too vivid, too real. And yet lots of us, me included, seem to be silent spectators, watching in disbelief. I wish we did more. I wish I did more. I wish I'd save at least one soul ... 

While all this is happening, time does not stand still. Summer has come and it's undoubtedly here, in all its glory. Simmering days and cool nights in the mountains (if you're lucky enough to get there, like I was). Hot dogs on the fire and evenings on the patio, with Gypsy perking his ears up for crickets and frogs. Roses bursting with color and smothered by bugs ... 

In this whirlwind of a world, I, once again, bury my head, of sorts, in the beauty around me, hoping and being grateful that at least there is some beauty still to be had. Still to be watched. Still to be shared. As I share with you now, my photo journey during the past month. 



Ever since I can remember, one of the things that says "summer" to me are mushrooms. Click this picture to see the whole album for June. Enjoy the ride! 

Sunday, June 10, 2018

Uitandu-ma in Urma cu 20 de Ani


Observatii dupa ultima revenire in tara …

Tocmai ma intorsesem dintr-o vizita in tara, dupa vreo 3 ani de absenta, cand cineva a scris, disperat si neconsolat pe Facebook, ca nu “s-a schimbat nimic.” Ca “tot aceleasi elemente conduc tara” si ca furtul, minciuna, penuria de tot felul sunt inca la putere. Banuiam ca se refera la faptul ca nu s-a schimbat nimic de 29 de ani de la Revolutie, ceea ce stiu sigur ca ar fi un ne-adevar. Inteleg ca sunt inca multe persoane in locuri inalte care lasa de dorit in ceea ce priveste moralitatea, loialilatea fata de electorat, si chiar si pregatirea profesionala, dar a spune ca “nu s-a schimbat nimic” mi s-a parut eronat. “Nimicul” e o masura enorma, in absentia.

Cel putin nu am vazut fapte concrete care sa sustina aceasta declaratie in ultima mea vizita in tara, sau mai precis in Iasi, orasul meu natal.

Stiu ca multi vor citi aici si nu vor fi de acord cu mine, ci cu persoana de pe Facebook care mentinea status quo-ul romanesc. Dar va spun sincer din experienta mea de privitor din “afara” de mai bine de 20 de ani de acum, ca lucrurile s-au schimbat. Si chiar s-au schimbat mult si inspre bine. De la cosurile de gunoi si bancile care abunda strazile din orice cartier, pana la zambetul mai des, mai benevolent al iesenilor – s-au schimbat multe. As vrea din suflet ca cei din tara sa vada acest lucru si sa continue sa propagheze aceasta schimbare.

Mergand prin Iasi mi se pare ca merg printr-un oras in care numai scheletul e cel al orasului in care am crescut. Dar carnea, pielea, muschii, arterele de sange sunt noi si vibrand de viata si posibilitati!

S-au schimbat strazi, cartiere intregi si tot ce tine de urbanistica – statii de tramvai, autobuz, chiar configuratia strazilor e schimbata in locuri pe ici - pe colo. S-au schimbat pana si numele unor strazi – ma temeam sa dau numele strazilor la soferii de taxiuri ca nu stiam daca le cunosc pe cele cu care am crescut eu. S-au construit poduri peste Bahlui (ca Podul Cantemir) si s-au reparat altele (ca fostul Pod de Lemn). Bahluiul in sine, desi tot murdar, e alt rau decat cel pe care mi l-aduc aminte din copilarie. Iasul e mai curat, mai modern, mai deschis decat il situ de 40 si ceva de ani de acum.

Zona Palas a vazut o dezvoltare enorma in ultimii 3-5 ani cel putin. Ceea ce s-a creat acolo, nu numai ca si urbanistica, dar ca si mediu de cultura si agrement pentru ieseni e o schimbare in bine din multe puncte de vedere. Si iesenii pentru prima data intr-o perioada mult prea lunga, sunt mandri de schimbarea aceasta. Se opresc in drum de la servici la o inghetata, la o bere, la o intalnire cu prieteni si colegi si se bucura de viata – ceea ce eu nu mi-aduc aminte sa o fi vazut prea des nici acum 10 ani! Parcurile din Copou au avut, de asemenea, parte de o revitalizare completa – sunt la fel de atemporale ca si pe vremea anilor mei de facultate, mustesc de istorie, dar poarta noi haine de curatenie si de comfort.

Mai sunt locuri vechi si daramate prin Iasi, totul nu este renovat, dar aceste locuri sunt mai putine ca altadata si sunt mai mult marturie a istoriei orasului mai mult decat o marturie a delasarii conducerii. Si munca inca va continua, din cate mi-am putut da seama.

Cineva a avut nu numai banii dar si vointa de a face aceste schimbari, ceea ce spune mult, mai ales pentru un oras din Moldova unde timpul cateodata sta in loc decenii de a randul.

Am fost surprinsa ca peste tot se plateste cu un card bancar la fel de des ca si acum 3 ani cu bani cash. Am mers de data aceasta de multe ori la alimentara si am observat ca la fiecare om care platea cu bani cash (parintii mei inclusiv) erau patru sau cinci care foloseau card pentru plata. Din punctul meu de vedere, aceasta este o schimbare extraordinara in modul de a privi si organiza viata de zi cu zi: cand oamenii au incredere in banci si folosesc carduri in loc de banii pusi la saltea se sare imediat in alt sistem de valori unde timpul (mai ales) si convenienta se masoara altfel. Pentru mine, e un indiciu clar ca lucrurile s-au schimbat si au evoluat, nu involuat.

Am avut nevoie de un hotel in Bucuresti in drum inapoi spre State: am rezervat hotelul langa aeroport pe internet, prin Orbitz. Cand am ajuns in aeroport am dat telefon la hotel si au trimis taxiul hotelului (shuttle) sa ne ia de la aeroport si sa ne aduca la hotel, pe gratis. Acelasi shuttle fara plata (si cu aer conditionat) ne-a dus inapoi la aeroport a doua zi. Doamna care a raspuns la telefon cand am sunat hotelul sa ii spun ca suntem ajunsi la aeroport si asteptam sa trimita taxiul a fost draguta, politicoasa si serviabila.

Mi-aduc aminte cand mergeam la Costinesti vara si nu puteam face rezervari dinainte la hotel si cand ajungeam la mare ne cerea bacsis intai pana sa ne dea o camera, desi aveau camere libere. Civilizatia pe care am gasit-o in ultima noastra vizita in turism si comert e la ani lumina departare de acele vremuri.

Am fost enorm de surprinsa ca nu mai trebuie platite bacsisuri si mite ilogice pentru a obtine un serviciu de la cineva. Cand am ajuns in Iasi ni s-au pierdut bagajele intre Bucuresti si Iasi. Personalul de la aeroportul iesean a fost un exemplu de profesionalism si cumsecadenie. Chiar daca au durat mai mult de 24 de ore si doua excursii pana la aeroport sa le recuperam, nu a trebui sa platim bacsis ca sa vorbeasca lumea cu noi si nici “sa le trecem prin vama.” Totul a fost profesional si foarte eficient. Amintindu-mi de ultima data cand mi-am reinnoit pasaportul in tara (acuma 18 ani) cand a trebuit sa platesc mita ca sa pot sa il obtin (desi era dreptul meu de cetatean roman de a avea pasaport in ordine), mi s-a parut ca sunt in alta tara acum, si nu tot in Romania. Mita si bacsisul fara nici o logica, mita dezumanizanta care iti rade in fata ca esti mai putin decat un om, e ceea ce m-a impulsionat cel mai mult sa plec, si ma bucur ca lucrurile s-au schimbat din punctul asta de vedere. Nu sunt naiva, stiu ca din pacate ele mai exista la multe alte servicii, dar traiesc cu speranta ca incetul cu incetul vor putea disparea din viata de zi cu zi a romanului.

Poate ceea ce m-a surprins cel mai mult nu au fost faptul ca se gasesc in magazine aceleasi produse pe care le gasim noi in afara, si ca restaurantele au menu-uri mai laborioase si diverse decat orice restaurant la care am mancat in SUA, dar faptul ca lumea exista coeziv cu aceste realitati. Nu se mai spune “ei, dar la noi nu sunt ca la ei” (adica 'in afara'), se spune ca “acuma este si la noi de toate, dom'le”.

Pe vremea mea, adica inainte de 1998 cand am plecat din tara, era o disctinctie clara intre ce e posibil inauntru si ce e posibil in afara. Liiceanu vorbea de limite reale si ireale. Ei, asta era o limita foarte reala in trecut. Acuma simt si vad clar ca linia diferentelor intre cele doua lumi este mult mai estompata. Am asistat din afara si prin ochii familiei mele inca ramasa in tara la estomparea aceasta de ani de zile de acum. Dar anul acesta lucrurile au fost si mai clare. Aducerea Romaniei la numitor comun cu Europa nu mai e o realitate de neimaginat, dar acum pare mai mult o realitate accesibila tuturor. Si asta a fost faptul frapant si decisiv in a spune ca intr-adevar lucrurile s-au schimbat.

Oamenii isi permit, cum spunem noi, sa accceseze aceste schimbari. Am vazut lume mai multa in restaurante, la gradini de vara, la magazine ne-alimentare decat am vazut vreodata. Si oamenii sunt mai calmi, mai zambitori, mai afabili, scot un ban din buzunar cu un zambet pe buze si nu cu o grimasa in care e impietrita frica zilei de maine. Pentru prima data in 20 de ani de cand ma reintorc in tara am vazut multi tineri care au copiii mici si sunt fericiti, nu intristati de povara zilei.

Strainii spuneau imediat dupa 1989 ca romanii au uitat sa zambeasca. Anul acesta am vazut mult romani nu zambind, dar si razand copios, tratandu-se la o bere rece in mijlocul unei saptamani calduroase la o gradina de vara, sau asteptand nepotii de la scoala pe banca din fata blocului. Tot se vorbeste despre “ce e de mancare” mai des decat “ce citesti” dar mancarea e azi intr-un context de petrecere si de adunare cu cei apropiati si nu de supravietuire.

Candva, cineva, undeva, intregul popor, a schimbat multe in cel putin ultimii 20 de ani. Cand locuiesti cu cineva zi de zi nu iti dai seama ca imbratranesc si cat de mult se schimba. Dar va spun eu sincer, din observatia mea de semi-turist: s-au schimbat multe in Romania.

O sa spuneti ca da s-au schimbat ca lumea merge la munca in Europa si are bani. Si asta e, cu siguranta, un lucru trist, inca. Dar simplul fapt ca putem merge in Europa si face bani fara a fi persecutati si fara a ne pierde identitatea e o schimbare enorma. Tin minte in anii dinainte de Revolutie cum guvernul iti baga familia la inchisoare daca aevai rude in afara, sau orice dovada de legatura cu cei din afara. Sigur ca s-au facut toate cu multe sacrificii, dar ce se poate oare face in viata fara ele?! Fara a renunta la anumite lucruri si a vedea progres si a caladi o viata mai buna?!

Oricare ar fi motivele schimbarilor, sunt schimari in bine si in frumos si bine de salutat. Ca orice progres, nu vine fara sacrificii si fara durerile de rigoare ale re-invatarii a unui nou cod de viata. Un lucru pentru care ma rog si pe care il sper din suflet este ca cei din tara sa fie constienti de aceste schimbari si sa continue sa le sustina. Revolutia e inevitabila, si mersul inapoi in istorie nu mai e posibil, oricat de mult ar incerca cei rau intentionati. Eu zic ca toti cei din tara trebuie sa fie mandri ca au sarit peste decenii de istorie si au ajuns departe intr-un timp relativ scurt, iar sacrificiile lor isi vad clar roadele in mai bine. Pentru fiecare zambet nou, pentru fiecare copil abia nascut, pentru fiecare cumparatura din placere si nu din obligatie fiecare roman din tara ar trebui sa fie mandru.

Stiu ca viata e altfel la tara si Romania ramane o tara majoritar rurala. Stiu ca aceste progrese nu sunt vazute egal in toata tara. Dar cred ca tot ceea ce s-a realizat pana acum ar trebui sa fie un exemplu bun, acea proverbiala linie argintie la marginea unui nor negru care promite existenta soarelui, care sa promita tuturor celor din tara ca se poate si mai bine. Ca lucrurile, cu rabdare, cu bani, si conducere de rigoare, se pot schimba, si se pot schimba in bine. Si speram ca peste ani aceste realizari sa infiltreze cu adevarat toate colturile tarii, oricat de indepartate.

Sper ca toti cei din tara sa gaseasca aceasta dorinta de a evolua in bine in tot ceea ce isi propun si in tot ceea ce realizeaza, si sa fie constienti ca schimbarile in si mai bine le sunt numai lor in putinta. Numai lor in mana.