Travel Journal: Asheville: I’d do it again, even overpriced…

I usually try to get to Asheville, NC at least once a year; yes, just like I do the beach. No, not for the Biltmore, which I see as sinfully and inexcusably overpriced, just for the city. The hippie-happy-quiet-quaint-old-ish atmosphere appeals to me. Mind you, I am not into antiques, or “old stuff”, but a certain “charm” and nostalgia breathes through the walls and narrow streets of this town, and it always calls me back. It’s more like a mystery tale, to be discovered.

This past weekend though, the college, “artsy” mountain town got a transformation even I could not have predicted, for the Bele Chere festival! A friend of mine offered her second home up there to me and a friend, and we of course took her up upon the offer.

The usually quiet and almost asleep town, was awake and kicking all through the weekend, and we had enough people watching and walking with gawking eyes to last us for another year at least.

We got there on Friday night, after a 2 and a half hour drive from the Green City. My friend’s description of the condo paled in comparison to the first experiencing of it! All the comforts of home, indeed. Three stories of it, to be more precise. With anything you need, including a pool outside, full kitchen, complete entertainment center, a ping-pong table, and a tennis court. We settled in!

After being forced (by my co-traveling friend) to watch King’s “The Shining” on TV, since he could not live with the fact I have not seen such a classic, and after a nightmare-full night, we woke up Saturday morning to a small fresh fruit salad. We’re in Asheville, we must eat healthy, right?!? Not! My friend had woken up with a strange craving for funnel cake, and I knew just the place to get it too. (well, it was not hard with a festival going on, right?!)

We got downtown to find out that parking is an arm and a leg, sometimes a lung, too, because, of course, Bele Chere was going on. Gotta pay it! What are you gonna do, huh?! The usually quiet town seemed flooded with people from God knows where: the streets were literally invaded by millions! Wall-to-wall crowds. Tents with artists’ crafts, stages, ice cream and (yes!) funnel cake stands abounded the streets.

I usually love the street food, but this time, we thought we’d vote for comfort, so, we wanted to sit down and be waited on instead. We stopped at an Irish pub for lunch. We had things like bangers and mash, fish and chips, a cold brew on a hot day, and the weekend really kicked off to a great start. We also learned that everything even in the restaurants (not just in the streets) had been modified to “meet the needs or the mood of Bele Chere” – read: “every price had been kicked up at least $1” to insure, you know… profit! Maximum, that is! Yes, we did pay $8.99 for the bangers, when the regular price was $7.99, for instance.

After lunch, it was off to the streets again and to “let’s meet the circus” time! From various craft booths that featured anything from metal sculptures, to caricatures on the spot, to jewelry made from recycled phone wires and sprinkle baths where you could “cool off” as walking by, to various entertainment stages that featured any type of music, from country and blue grass to rock’n’roll and deep south blues, to even improvisation comedy, from booths burning lavender and musk sticks to selling oil lamps and aroma therapy all organic candles – the downtown was a feast for the senses!

The crowds were colorful enough in themselves, too: spiky Mohawks, purple hairdos, men in colorful, long dresses, and wide rimmed purple hats, a giant man, maybe 7 feet tall and at least 400 lbs, towering over the crowds in a bright yellow Hawaiian shirt and overalls, long haired girls in tall conductor’s hats, winding their hips on the beats of Jimbo’s guitar; tattoos and piercings to satisfy an army; rainbow flags and gay rights supporters at corners; old hippies, playing the guitar and belching out sounds that only vaguely resembled any music at all, with no mike and no stage, at times with no audience either, at random corners, swaying, barely standing on their feet, not sure if from alcohol or heat; and over it all, it seemed, a huge sort of menacing “Jesus died for your sins” sign.

What I call “fair foods” everywhere: you know: bbq, hotdogs, funnel cake, lemonade, and the likes: stuff you can’t buy anywhere except if there is a fair in town! For about 6 hours, we walked around, and we ate, drank, laughed and bought our way through the crowds! Yes, ate and drank, even on top of the bangers and fish! What else is there to do? We don’t count calories on our vacations. It’s against our religion, as it should be. Oh, yeah, and listened to music. Surely!

Some of the notable (to us) bands we saw were The Knockdown South, a band from Tennessee, put together by former Squirrel Nut Zipper, Jimbo Mathus – basically a blues band; Jimbo’s been known to jam with Buddy Guy and even got a Grammy nomination for their album, if my memory serves me right; we also had to pay the ($20) fee to see Cracker and Train. Now, 16 years of experience speak there, for Cracker! Great show! Great performance, well put together, although the band honestly admitted having “screwed up” twice: starting on the wrong key, that is.

The music was great, crowds were plenty and we felt like “mission accomplished” at the end of the day, with maybe a couple of “overpriced” let downs!

The Asheville Bele Chere Festival will always remain in my memory as the only place where I had to pay for … a wrist band! No, no, they would STILL ID you when buying the beer! But if you want to walk around with a beer in your hand, in the closed in downtown area, you gotta pay the extra $2 for the … wrist band! Also, exhausted and drained of energy, we wanted a sit down dinner; we’re old you see, we can’t keep doing this walk-around-drink-all-day-in-the-heat-thing! So, for the sit down dinner, we ended up at Scully’s, somewhere off of Walnut St. downtown. After a ditzy-waitress service, wings and crab cake sandwich dinner, I left the place with a bitter taste, somewhat: they could not, you see, ruin their glasses on iced water that evening, because that would have been free! No, we had to be OK with paying $2 for a bottle of water, which has less liquid than the glass, “for Bele Chere”, we were told?! So, let me get this straight, City of Asheville: all of a sudden, on the day of your street festival, when people sit down on curbs peed on by dogs, and eat hotdogs with their dirty fingers, I become a germ-phob and I need bottled water for $2 a bottle, and cannot drink the tap water from the sink?! My migraine was pounding, and the dehydration was kicking in, so… I didn’t whine that much. I do now, looking back!

We got home and we tried to cuddle up in front of a DVD of ‘Raising Arizona’, but we both fell asleep so we called it a night at midnight. Like I said: we’re too old for this sh&*^t!
The next morning, we had a breakfast on our beautiful porch, with the green trees and the lake and the pool close by, while the mountains laid lazily in the background. So much peace and quietness! We felt like all our stress was dissipating away, into the green pastures, and the mountain crisp air, and our pores were being refreshed and emptied out from poison. Such a rebirth!

Then, we were off to Biltmore (of course!). But this time, just to have lunch with my friend’s parents. We sat on the patio, sipping a bottle of the Cardinal’s Crest wine, then we had a delicious, decadent lunch of mainly seafood with a variety of breads, and served graciously by a Polish waitress. It was eclectic, and fun! And as I have mentioned: decadent! Driving back out of the Biltmore estate, through the rolling hills, and the deep thickets, there was a sense of regret! We wanted to stay there longer. Enjoy the foods, the wines, the grounds, the peace…

We headed home, though, to a game of ping pong on the scorching hot covered patio in the basement. Of course, the non-athletic me, playing with 2 left hands when I am right handed, didn’t do very well, especially so, in front of my very competitive friend, a Sports writer, too! But the fun was incredible! The sweat, the laughs, the loosening of the joints, were some of the highlights of my stay there!

After an “excellent” Mexican meal (inside joke here: our waiter seemed to be literally stuck on the word “excellent”), we headed home: completely bloated, 4 lbs heavier, but happy, wallets empty and smiling ear to ear! This is what we live and work for: a decadent weekend once in a while. Yes, I would go to Bele Chere next year. And I already know I will go to Asheville again and again at least as long as I live 2 and a half hours away from it! And I get to stay for free, thanks to the generosity of my friends.

Rant on men, sort of: be honest, not nice!

I have thought for years that my feminist streak has died down if not completely vanished. I have thought for years that the “feminist bitch” (my nickname in college) that was me 10 years ago has transformed herself into this beautiful, grown up human being that now is open to diversity, and open to people just being richly different and enjoying it, a being that is able to forgive even the most hurtful of crimes, and tries to look for the good in the world!
Well, that’s all true, until some moron pisses me off and lies to me. Not once, not twice, not three times, and not about just one thing… Lies about life, and me, and him, and love and honesty itself. For YEARS! Yes, I do feel stupid, for not seeing it sooner, but of course it’s so much easier to blame the culprit. And hate him for, once again, insulting my intelligence! Now, please note that I said “I hate him”, not “them”, therefore I try (at least) not to generalize. Try to!
So, here I am back in my “feminist” corner, telling myself once again that the bottom line of life is “men are pigs” (or at least the ONE that crossed my path). For a couple of days I moped in that corner; cried, and yelled, and kicked, and screamed over nothing, of course, but spilt milk. And I know this is cheesy, but I also believe these days those people who say “women can fake orgasms, but men fake whole relationships”; I believe them, because I have seen it. At least one man can. Trust me!
After the whining was over and the tear-well has dried out, of course I did what any respectable Aries would do: stood up, brushed off, and moved right on. No, life is too short to be down for too long, especially for people who are not men enough to be themselves. Especially for those! I would not give the satisfaction!
I know, his defense would be (not that I asked or care to do it): “I was being nice. I didn’t want to rock the boat. I didn’t want to have a fight, a confrontation”. Well, I got news for you, Mr. Man: thank you very much for asking, or for your "thoughtfulness", but I don’t need a “nice man”; what I need is an “honest man”. Even if you’re an ass, wear it on your sleeve, like, well, …“a man”. Why do you want to go down into eternity as a liar, is beyond me?! Also, why waste years of your life trying to cover up?! That again is mind-boggling to me! Is your life really that cheap?!
You know, rudeness is not a crime, but lying is. Take a hint! And respect yourself enough not to waste your time, and others’ with a lie. If nothing else, it will make you lose all the respect you want from people. So, is that really worth it?!
My mom used to say: “remember that lies have small feet; they never walk too far” – so, sooner or later you’ll be busted, and I would have no interest in even chatting with you about the weather. After all, you’ll even try to convince me it’s snowing in the Sahara Desert, right?! Who knows?! Not me, ‘cause I am going to let you waste someone else’s years, from now on!
Life is precious and it’s the only guarantee we have. I will make a definite commitment not to waste it on people that don’t deserve it. The slightest gut feeling I’ll get that will warn me against someone, I might not give them the benefit of a doubt like I have tried to. I have tried for years to be more forgiving, but I guess it’s just not who I am. And some people are just not worth it.

Lately…

The other day I was asked what happened to the hiatus in my writing. I used to say that I was not be able to write when I was happy. Misery always pulled me out of my heart and prompted me to spill my guts. I guess it was asking for compassion…or something… I have been writing indeed, in my notepads and journal, every chance I get, between work and home, in my car at a stop light, before bed, in the morning, over coffee. I cannot live and not write, I don’t think. But the pc is a different matter. That takes time and free hours.
So, why no time? And what have I been doing with my days? I guess I can use a cliché and say I just have been “busy living”. I guess existing, and moving from rainy day to hot day connecting to people and balancing my check book. I guess. Some trips here and there, for a weekend, or for a day; a lot of keeping in touch with people; working and getting exhausted from working; not even reading, which bugs me; not even shopping. Just being. And a lot of thinking, lately, too. A lot! I have indeed been going out more, and trying to observe the world around me more.
I feel, if I have to make a judgment of what I find out there, that I am hanging between 2 generations now, and I don’t feel like I belong to either of them. I am not 20 something anymore, but I am not quite 40 yet either… I think most of the time I feel closer to the 40 some year old than the 20 some’s and that is strange: I was 20 at some point. I know what THAT’s about!! I am out there, with friends and friends of friends and co-workers, and I cannot relate at all to the 20 some year olds, although I am closer in age to them than the 40 some crowd. Their ‘cluelessness’ and immaturity make me smile, at best. Their compulsive use of cell phones and i-pods annoys every pore of my body, most of the time! I don’t find the patience for that. Heck, I have no patience for the news cast anymore. I feel like technology and electronics, with the exception of the cd player, while cooking at night or on a car ride, eat at my brain cells like cancer.
So, lately, I s’ppose, I have been out and about, in public places, trying to figure out where I belong, to what I belong. I have also been trying to widen my life with new-ness: new people, music, goods, wines, life choices, books, and fields of interest. I was not going to be “attached” this year. This was my year of a break, where I can regroup, reinvent and move on. Attached or not, I am still trying to do that, and so far I am having fun with it. Of course, through it all, I needed to come back to my purple mat, because nothing is ever built on a shaky foundation. So, that’s where it all starts for me this year. And the rest will take care of itself.
No, I am not breaking from writing because I am happy; I am breaking from writing, at least on my pc, from not having enough hours in a day to do it all. And as I have said, I am not a big fan of technology (just don’t tell my boss that!!), so you won’t see me carrying a laptop around like it’s my life support. If only I could get a secretary to type in my notepad, you’d see I’ve been quite prolific, in fact.
As for happiness, I think I have decided a long time ago, that completely independent of the outside factors, it’s an innate attitude; so, as long as I live it’ll be here; just like my cholesterol…

On dogs, cats, health, being happy and other annoying facts of life

I never thought I liked dogs. I always thought that there are at least three major reasons why I would always hate them, in fact: they smell, they lick and they bark! Of course, there is the need to wash them, board them when you go to Europe, and of course, how can we forget: they need walking, too! How inconvenient on a rainy day when all you want to do is nap?! The lack of independence, the high maintenance… all of it - I thought I’d hate it… But then I met Dakota, and everything changed! He is an extremely high maintenance dog, mind you, needy as an 80 year old man, bed ridden and with Alzheimer’s! Everything revolves around HIM, and him alone. But he taught me how to read his body and how to take the licks as a sign of love, the stench as a new flavor of life, the barking as a bonding attempt of him telling me about his day, and the high vet bills as a sign that he is indeed human!
And the rest is history: I cannot say no to dogs anymore. I think for the rest of my life, I will call any dog that enters my life Dakota! He will always be my one and only, the one who opened my eyes to a whole new universe.
Now, I find myself on that boring side of half of the population that woo’s and aaah’s about the furry-noisy-stinky 4 legged “people”. I am still on the fence, very much so, since my love for cats has not faded one bit. I just see myself as richer and with a more expanded outlook on all things life. I shut no door nor eye to the dogs anymore.
This past weekend, I went for a long hike, with a new 4 legged friend of mine, Floyd, and his endurance, and even gratefulness on the trail made my heart melt! He didn’t ask for much, if anything at all. Tongue to the ground, feet to the trail, he stopped pulling at the leash after about 2 miles. Almost 100 degrees and another 2 miles more later, back at the car, without so much as a whine, or even a bark, he collapsed in the back seat, on the blanket, and I swear he fell asleep smiling. I just wanted to kiss his muzzle and drown in that stinky breath!
At home, I was happy to return to the clean, crisp smell of my cats. Quiet and elegant, they know how to step not to disturb me from my nap, or where to lay just so, so as to get enough sun for their comfort, but to give me enough visual pleasure for an entire lazy summer afternoon. At home, I soak in their beauty, elegance, and I am reminded, with their every gesture, how much I love freedom!
So, on days when my heart is racing, and my docs are sending me grim reports, and my dear family is sick or in need, and the bank account is on the negative, and the people I am surrounded with are so difficult, and … hard, and demanding, and more whiny than a menopausal woman, and not worth a damn, I return to these pools of peace, to the Floyds, and Dakotas, and Gypsys, and Feros and Kitties of the day, and I breathe and I find my breath one more time; for at least another day.
On another note: are you bothered by the things you used to do with no problem when you were younger and now feel like an idiot even attempting to do them, much less not being able to carry them through?! What happened with hiking for a whole day in 100 heat without complaining? Or having beers throughout the hot days, and partying till dawn? Or spending a whole night chatting or watching a movie marathon with your friends, only to be up and about and ready to face the new day freshly in the morning?! What happened with 2 AM bedtime?! Long gone for me… and by God, what am I going to do when I am 40?! So, so disappointing!
Whatever happened to my calves over the years I wonder?! A 4 mile hike and they’re dead! Need crutches for another week to get around; a crane to pick me up from a chair.
I wish some days they would invent a way to bottle up the feeling I have after an hour and a half meet with the (yoga) mat! That invigorating feeling of joy, and beauty, and life worth living, and love of my own self, that beatitude of health and energy, that rush after a good practice followed by a deep savasana … THAT joy…bottled up, so I can have a sip after a 4 mile hike and feel like I can so move on!
The peace and calm I feel after a good pranayama practice, I want to feel when in the doctor’s office and they tell you your pressure is too high and by Gosh they tried it all and they don’t know what’s next! You want to just breathe and not feel your heart pounding. You want that feeling, because you know that that feeling will carry you on, through the high BP! I guess it’s good that you know where to find it, though, and this way you will never throw away your mat! All the rest of the clutter will be eventually thrown away when you move, but not that mat.
Someone asked me the other day, a novice in yoga, a “tester” with the yoga thought , I’d say, “why they need a mat”?! Well, for that: it’s a spiritual delineator! It keeps you mentally as well as physically away from this poisonous world we live in every day. It sends the message to your brain that all things worldly have to stop, and a new era or frame of mind rather has to start. It offers the visual escape into the “sacred” space. It’s the visual oasis in this dry world we live in. Something palpable to remind us the breathe and slow down.
And thanks to oases like these, despite of all the penury of good things in the day, the aches and pains, the heat and the human mental stink, I choose to always be happy. Or joyful. I choose to smile when I smell the dogs, and smile when the cats scratch or meow in the middle of my nap, waking me up; and smile when the heart is racing … It’s all going to be good. I am here now, and alive, and there is so much to see behind every door! Behind every bend in the road… So many reasons to smile. So many dumb people, you can’t help but crack up! So much good food, and good times! So much music, and so many purple mats! So many stinky muzzles, and so many pulled leashes, and long, sharp cat nails to be cut. They just all make me smile. Always. So many reasons to be stubborn enough to live long, and choose to live happily, too.
And this is JUST the beginning, a mere sliver of the huge cake of life… Enjoy …

Baseball Games

Disclaimer: this is not for some shy ears, maybe ...

You gotta understand I am not from around these parts. Around the parts I am from they don’t have baseball. So, I am trying to be a “good American”, now that at least on paper I am one, although not sure how “good”, and learn this game which is bragging to be “America’s pastime”, or “America’s sport”.
For the life of me, I know not why they say that about baseball, either! I’ve always thought cheerleading would be it: enjoyed, it seems, equally by men and women, for different reasons, and although I have not done the research, I can swear it’s an American “genuine” invention, but anyways, let’s not digress!
So, recently, I have been trying to go to real life baseball games, watch them on TV, I have even considered buying a book on baseball, to learn it, as a true American. I am not sure I am getting the game totally, yet, but I enjoy seeing it live!
How can you not, though, pray tell?! What’s there in a stadium that you would hate?! Nothing!! The beer, the food, the people watching, the cheers, the music, and oh, yeah, the game, too make for such an entertaining environment, quite hard to beat elsewhere!
I will keep you posted on my progress understanding the game, if interested, but for right now, I noted some of the conversations my friends and I can carry on at a game. Just made me smile re-reading my old notes, and just thought I’d share. These are real life ones, of which the “undersigned” has been part. And one of my wonderful friends is the accomplice:

“Oh, I like my wiener loaded!”

“Can you hold my nuts so I can take care of my wiener?”

“Ma’am, I didn’t want the small one! I need the foot long, please! Thanks.”

“Where can I put my nuts?”
“Just sit them in my lap.”
“Don’t let them get too warm now!”

“Do you want a bite (of a pretzel)?”
“No, thanks, I don’t like the thick ones. I like the skinny, small ones.”
“Really??????”- my friend says with bulging eyes, in disbelief…

Oh, the memories …

June 7, 2006

“Give us your tired, your weak
And we will make them strong
Bring us your far off song
And we will sing along
Leave us your broken dreams
We’ll give them time to mend
There’s still a lot of love
Living in the Promiseland

(…)

So they came with such a sad eye
Nameless woman, faceless child
Like a bad dream
Till there was no room at all
No place no place to run
And no place to fall

Give us your daily bread
We have no shoes to wear
No place to call our home
Only this cross to bear
We are the multitudes
Lend us a helping hand
Is there no love anymore
Living in the Promiseland

(…)
There is a winding road
Across the shifting sand
And room for everyone
Living in the Promiseland”

What do you say when you manage to see your life long dream with your own eyes?! Do you cry? Scream? Yell? Party? Are matter of fact, because you’ve kind of expected it?! Or you’re humble and so amazed (and paranoid) that you don’t want your luck to turn and be miserable from now on?! It’s definitely breathless and speechless is how you feel. You’d like to say thank you and kiss someone’s hand, and you’re not sure who that person is? People that you’ve come across along the way? Your parents for having you? God? The American Government? Your own government? And these questions are still unanswered…

On June 7th, I was sworn in as an American citizen. I was told that “I have met all the conditions to have every right that an American born citizen has… but ONE…”. I would not be able to ever be the President of this country…And thus my dream of 31 years, and my family’s life-long dream was to become reality…

While waiting for the oath, a million things crossed my mind, some of which I wanted to make a record of … So, here they are …

Long winters in Romania, with icy windows, ice so thick you could not see through the windows into the streets; cold sheets at night, so cold you felt a layer of your skin peeled right off when you slept into the bed… Maia warming the sheets up with the blow dryer… Secret police knocking on your door at 2 AM, taking your dad away… He returns later the next day with two black eyes, and mom tells you some people in the street attacked him… Dad hiding dead chickens from work in the spare wheel compartment in the trunk of the family car, so he can feed us … other children at school telling you their families can only afford meat for Christmas… The feeling of guilt … The shame when you were fortunate enough to know the taste of oranges one day a year, and others didn’t know what that fruit felt like … Indoctrination class, memorizing the Congress’s laws, which were unchanged, always; the fear of death if you missed one… a 25 W bulb in every room…Secret police confiscating the occasional 40 W bulb… “Stealing from the people”… No hot water in the winter… No running water during the day in the summer …”stealing from the people”…

Summer breaks in the mountains…untouched by communism…wild, and free…But hungry and dirty. No running water at all… Trips to the stream to bring buckets of water…
Shhtt…Don’t tell anyone you celebrate Christmas, or Easter! Oh, Easter is the worst! You tell people you never go to church. Ever. Although the communion tastes soo good! Shhht…Whisper… Even the walls can turn you in… Can they hear your heart beat? Is that a sin against the people, too?!

Mom telling you the “teachers are right”… Dad telling you “America is the answer”… Bicu telling you, when you’re 10: “Run, A! Run away… Learn to swim, cross the Danube and go to America. This country doesn’t deserve you. Do WHATEVER comes your way… Steal, lie, kill if you have to… but LEAVE. Be an American one day! You’re too good for this country “…Confusion… But what about mom and dad? What about Andy and Maia?!

Learning to live with no feelings, and cold… Mindful of what you say, to whom you’re saying it…Living in your head … 2 Hrs of TV a day… 4 on Sundays and Saturdays…Half of an hour movies once a week on TV… 6 day working week… Driving your cars only two weekends a month… No more coupons for gas, none for flour, or oil…We’ll wait till next month…One pair of new pants a year… One pair of shoes … Feeling guilty of outgrowing the clothes…No money…
You learn about Scarlet O’Hara and you hear yourself saying: “If I have to steal, lie, cheat, kill…I swear… I’ll do anything, but I will never be hungry again”… - paraphrase…

The Revolution…More confusion…but freedom too…Too old to let go of the dream…Too young to make any decisions on your own… Still keeping the dream … when the cold winter strikes and the heat fails to come; and the hot water … When you have to bribe for bread and water, again… No more communism…Just the side effects…More lying, and cheating, and hurtful people…
Corruption…No more stealing from the people; just from one another …

And then, the LIGHT! The chance you’re given. Passion for the English language, and the one thing you hold dear to your heart: you know this passion WILL set you free! The end is near… Then you get a letter from quite a stranger at that time … You know nothing of him, but he holds a hand out; you grab hold to it, with all your might. You fall in love with the man who rescues you from this all… He abuses you. You still love him! Nothing is worse, nothing can ever be worse that what’s behind you… Lost childhood; and teenage-hood… Maybe you have a better chance as a 20-some year old! Maybe … Hoping …Loving…Giving … Giving up… But the bridge was crossed, so now, you wait, and pray. Pray that this strange land that has been so welcoming and fortunate for so many millions of people, over so many hundreds of years will accept yet ONE more person. JUST one. YOU! And you hope…Every prayer every night, every candle you light up in church; you pray! And the smoke goes up to Heaven, you hope, with your prayer …
You visit Ellis Island in New York, and you’re numb! You hear the steps of confused millions like you, opening their hungry but oh, so hopeful eyes, onto the New World. You can smell their dirt, their sweat; you can hear their hearts speeding up…it’s your heart too. You know…you KNOW how THAT felt! Visitors around you have no clue…And you’re so emotion stricken you can’t speak to tell them… You cry when you see the Statue of Liberty and you have no clue what to tell your husband why you’re crying …

You eat your first Thanksgiving meal, and you hope one day you’ll eat it as “one of them”; “one of the true Americans”, that is …Turkey tastes different in America. For immigrants like me, it will always taste like freedom!

And above it all, you see your dad! Scared and panicked: panicked that he might not feed you tomorrow, if the cops find the chicken in the trunk, and put him away; scared he might not come back from the 2AM rendezvous’s , one day… Your mom is silent. “Better believe the teachers”… And you see your parents, again, at the airport, 8 years ago, bidding good bye to their first born, and they know it’s for good! She didn’t have to learn how to swim. This generous man has sent a letter, and another generous man gave her a visa, and she’s legally flying towards freedom… And they know they raised her to do whatever it takes to fight for her dream…and she will not disappoint… They will age and they will cry every day, but she will have a better life…No more lies…. Bribes… no more cold winters… no more no running water days for their child… or their grandchildren… They bid her good bye, and they cry…Their eyes empty…Their love gone … All their work of a lifetime, gone, on a KLM flight to Amsterdam, en route to Atlanta, Georgia, the United Stated of America; Atlanta-home of Scarlet O’Hara… And I ran with that hope! And that dream, and the love for my parents, and for freedom got me to the INS office in Charlotte on June 7, 2006 … And I said my oath with determination and fear…and awe … and trembling … It felt good like a sin… Should freedom be a sin?!

Like many millions out there, throughout the centuries, I grew up to think that America is the end of all pain and suffering; the end of a poor and unjust life. And I tell you, this dream might have been real for the people of the 17th and 18th and 19th centuries, and it is still alive today! America has done the job it’s been doing for centuries, of sheltering the lost wanderers of the world that are running from their countries like from a burning building! It can’t get any worse than that! So, you jump!

And you leave your loved ones behind, and you hope for the best! For them and for you… And when they don’t follow, you still hope for the best for them…And you cry … and you hope they jump too…one day…A part of your heart stays behind… But what’s left of you has escaped, and will be looking for a new life … Incomplete and scarred, you try to start over; and America gives you the balm, to mend your wounds… And you smile through tears again…

I have a picture I took on Ellis Island, that I will want to be buried with, I hope. It reads: “Island of hope/ Island of Tears”…This year, on July 4th, my first Independence Day as an official citizen of the free world, I will think of this picture and of what America has been for me… A true island of hope and tears …

“I have a dream, a fantasy
To help me through reality
And my destination makes it worth the while
Pushing through the darkness still another mile”

Emotions...

" 'Cause there's something in a Sunday
That makes a body feel alone."

(Can you guess the movie?!)

We all wish we had dreams with bleeding Indians in them. But they’re not dreams. They’re real, and they hurt!

“HE lives on Love Street
Lingers long on Love Street
HE has a house and garden.
I would like to see what happens …”

I followed you… Why? … ‘Cause you’re the one…

“This world is a road to power and nothing besides …” – remember that next time you’re tempted to say “yes!”…

“Indians said the first Shaman invented sex; they called him “the one who makes you crazy…”.

“All poems have wolves in them; all but one; the most beautiful one of all” – where is my beautiful poem?! Did I catch a draft?!

Lately… “I got stuck on a chick”, he’d say, and little would he know that she’d got stuck on him, too…

The “doors of perception” seem to finally be “cleansed”, after 31 years of searching, and hoping and hating and loving, of disappointments and of abuse. So, … let everything appear “as it is: infinite”. I am ready… finally … I think… Thanks, William Blake! Thank you, Sir.


“Enclose me in your gentle rain” … and don’t let go…

The key word is MORE. Always more … more … more … We’re only human …

“He touched her thigh and Death smiled”; she flexed her thigh and he smiled.

“The Universe is functioning perfectly, but I’m still completely locked within myself…” – when will the lock fall, and the labels will be posted?! When is the freedom coming? Do we know? Soon? Now? Ever?

I hate death, but sometimes “life hurts more” … And sometimes, life doesn’t hurt at all…

Does marriage really have to be about “fighting or f^cking”? About “side choosing”?! “Show me the way…and don’t ask why…”

“People are strange… When you’re a stranger … Faces look ugly… When you’re alone…No one remembers your name… When you’re strange…” – remember that it’s JUST a name…and sometimes, not even remembered …

When we least expect it, we see the bleeding Indians in the crowd … reminding us… that life’s short…Too short …

What would you tell God if you had a phone where you could talk to Him? Directly… Anything?! I would be speechless…

Do you hurt?

It hurts when there is no touch in sight …

The house of love is missing its spy…

A New Joint In Town

I am not a picky customer. I guess, as you can see from my WalMart rant, I do little for comfort, when it comes to commercial service… I am easy to please! But there are some things that disappoint even low maintenance, low expectations me!!! …
A group of friends of mine decided to check out the new joint in town, Rum Runners. I had no expectations of the place whatsoever. I need to remind you: I am not from around these parts, so I know nothing of rum, and who drinks it and where, nor about dueling pianos and all that “cosmopolitan” stuff! So, I went with an open mind (and somewhat wallet, too), to this new place, downtown Greensboro, in the Kress building.
Coming at the door and learning that the downstairs club is called “Inferno” made it sound pretty cheesy, since the place almost across the street (also a club) is called “Heaven” and is at the top floor … but I am not picky. I came there for … Run Runners and the pianos, not the Inferno…
The service seemed slow from the get-go, but I thought I’d be forgiving: this is their opening night, they’re still figuring out what sections are serviced by whom and how fast, and the waiters/ waitresses themselves are probably still shy, on their first job in their first summer break ever, as a college student to be … maybe?! So, I was listening to the music, and being patient, and forgiving, too …
That gave me a ton of time on my hands… I started (over)analyzing the décor: like many buildings downtown, the Kress, is also a historic building: incredibly tall ceilings and carved, arched walls are outlining the inside of the open space. And within the enclosing, a décor of beach straw huts and columns fill in the void… Palm trees murals and decorations adorn the white walls. My first instinct, trying to decide whether to have my eyes linger on the classic walls or on the Jimmy Buffett-like scenery, was: “this is cheesy”. The straw and the palms just did not mesh in with the classy walls and architecture.
The pianos were incredibly loud and the resonance in the overly tall hall was not the best one can ask for … Someone needs to work on their sound system, if they’re going to be a “live entertainment” place, I thought. Resounding in the void of the white walls was the various sounds of music that ranged anywhere from The Animals, and Creedence to Johnny Cash and Bon Jovi! I thought to myself: confusing! – I was not sure what the “genre” would be in this environment; if there should be one …
When we finally got our friends together and we got a waitress, we found out that although their “frozen drinks” menu was 2 full pages of complicated descriptions of various concoctions, they did not have any frozen drinks available that night. I am thinking: on your opening night?? A “beach bar”? No frozen drinks? – now, that’s a let down!!! They did have the “Rum Runner”, and one of my friends did get that. Thank God, they at least got their “signature drink”, right?! We all ordered beer, otherwise … Or water, of course.
When it came time to order the food, we also found out that the only fish dish on the menu, the “Sandy beach”, I believe, was not available, either. Again: disappointment: no fish food, in a “beach-looking” bar?! I was beginning to doubt them here!
Oh, and the surprises kept coming: our main course (or at least one of the two, because we didn’t get them at the same time) came before our appetizer, well, WAY before our appetizer. And my friend, who was lucky enough to get his Rum Runner, had his order (an individual pizza) brought when most of us finished paying for the whole damage … and he was starved and drooling, watching all of us devouring our foods. At some point, we were also offered a whole set of salads of all sorts of flavors, without a single one of us ordering any… And one of the couples had their ticket incredibly mixed with people from across the table’s orders in between, although it should have been pretty simple for them: one appetizer, one Margarita, and one beer! … We were so confused when we left, we were not sure what was worse: the music that was too loud, the waitress who was lost, or the chef who was definitely not ready for a whole season of cooking, and could not tell the difference between a salad and a burger?!
The food was pretty tasty, once it came out, but boy, did you have to learn patience in the two hours you were there, to enjoy it!
I have seen places scrambling for smoothness on their “grand opening” night, but none quite so lost as Rum Runners… It was a tad surprising, to say the least, and be polite, even for a Third World gal, that’s really, not that picky! But I’ll probably go back, if the mood for “iffy”-ness and loud music will return any time soon.

A Sh^tty Day … Sorta …

It started with a migraine… So strong, so ravishing and disabling … my head weighed 100 lbs out of my entire body weight of 98 lbs and I could not muster the strength to lift it off my pillow… I could not open my eyes, nor move my head…Light was evil! Noise was worse! With all the strength I gathered up, I called in sick! And fell asleep instantly! It was 5.30 AM…
At 7.30 my boss decides to call me from his home, to tell me someone from the office needs computer help; he is on call, you see, and he calls “the specialists” when he doesn’t know how to attend to an emergency… I called the person in need, walked her through several steps, and she was fine and grateful, 5 minutes later… By that time, I was wide awake and decided I will go in after all, albeit late … The migraine had eased up on me, too … It was now reduced to a headache – lingering still .
The day turned out to be easy at the office: not many emergencies, plenty of time for my headache to cool off … It was still there, in the back of my brain and eyes, but not as strong as it started at 5.30 AM!
I even found time for lunch: I got into my car, with no definite direction; I was telling myself: “OK, Alina, think! What are your taste buds screaming for right now?!” … After a couple of blocks, I knew they were craving Indian food… I turned abruptly to the left, and headed to my favorite Indian place in town… The buffet was only $6, and the richness of taste was just what the doctor ordered for my crappy mood and my headache! And indeed, the diverse flavors, the colors, the music, and the prompt service hit a spot! I left the Indian place refreshed as if after 10 catnaps!
I was refreshed and happy once again! My headache was a thing of the past and my newly found flavors made me smile … I am very much a “taste” person! Not texture, at all…And when I eat something as rich and complex as Indian (or any kind of Oriental, really) food, my entire being is opened up fully to the possibilities and fullness that all senses of the world have to offer! It’s like soaking in the most perfect and most comfortable bubble bath, for some!
So, I returned to work, thinking: “Wow, I could be home now, sleeping, not enjoying any of this if I had decided to call in sick, after all…”
And things were to get better … In the afternoon, my friend (who insisted he is NOT a sushi lover at all, far from it, actually!!!) e-mailed me, and all of a sudden decided to humor me and try sushi, but he made me promise we will go to a place that has “normal food” (i.e.: fried or steamed rice with “dead” meat, like chicken and beef!), and we did go to my favorite sushi place, that has “normal” Japanese food as well as the best sushi in town! Another taste extravaganza! Another explosion of pleasure, and lavishness of tastes! - almost paradisiacal!
After the sweet ever so slight buzz of 2 beers and a chat-full evening with my friend, full of laughter and happy times, the times that will build up lasting memories, I was headed home …Tired and happy … Smiling and fulfilled … My day turned out not that bad, after all … :-)
I guess the morale is: give yourself another chance: amazing things might happen, when you turn spontaneously on the road to lunch or when a crazy friend decides to please your tastes… Just let yourself be open to ideas, and impromptu invitations … You never quite know … what the next turn might bring, or the next phone call… or e-mail… Be open!

Summer is Here: A Blowing Rock Trip

Every year, no matter what additional travel plans I must have, I have to see the mountains and I have to see the Ocean… It’s a must! I see the Ocean for the deep and wide thinking experience that I need every once in a while, and I see the mountains for the peace, and the wilderness, for the freshness that recharges every pore in my skin and neuron in my brain!
This past weekend my friend and I decided to take a day trip to Blowing Rock and thereabouts … Not having done that trip before, my friend had some doubts that we can do this in one day, but I paid no attention to the worries, since I have done it a million times before, and almost every time it’s been a success.
Our first stop was in Blowing Rock where we made it just in time for lunch. Although adventuresome and always ready for trying new things, there are some things that I will always keep on doing, as old habits die indeed hard. I always have lunch at the ‘Speckled Trout’, a downtown fixture in the small mountain town, where they make the fishiest, most delicious, and freshest trout there (of course, if you drive towards Celo, ‘Albert’s Inn’ is a fierce competition, but… ). So, I had my trout, and I felt like my batteries are already starting to fill up…
We walked around the town, mostly window shopping in craft and décor stores, dreaming of what stuff might go well in our own abodes…Just soaking our retinas in cottage-style furnishings and local crafts. The weather was hot, and there is no other word to describe it! HOT! And steamy, or rather sauna-y: very few white puffy clouds, but the Carolina blue sky was letting the sun scorch us while stewing us in the humidity! The town was hopping: sidewalks were overflowing of people , no places to park, bands playing in the central park area, tens of kids swinging, playing ball, biking, kicking off their shoes and playing hide-n-seek and screaming and announcing that the summer is indeed here!
When hot and thirsty, we headed for ‘Kilwin’s Ice Cream’ parlor; we were horrified at the line! It seemed like everyone in town had the same thought as us: the line was endless, and the heat too scorching; we needed A/C and we needed cold liquids or foods, and we needed them fast! So, we opted for a cold brew at the ‘Six Pence Pub’, next door… That place was packed, too, but we managed to work out a table at the bar! A chatty waitress and $10 later we felt a bit better and ready for another stretch of the journey…
After a relatively short drive on the Blue Ridge Parkway (amazingly empty… I guess all the travelers stopped at Kilwin’s!), we got to the Grandfather Mountain Park… The steep drive is always fun, as are the “native” animals in the zoo, and the Forrest Gump Curve, and of course, the “piece de resistance”, the swinging bridge. My friend is somewhat queasy about heights, so he kept saying “I wish they stopped calling it the ‘swinging’ bridge”… I smiled. Actually laughed. There is something about grown men being nervous about seemingly little things that I find endearing… Last time I visited the “swinging bridge” the winds were 60 mph, and the gusts were 78 mph; at 80 mph constant winds they close it down. This time, the wind was probably, with no exaggeration, 0 mph! Not even a breeze! Peaceful, and hot, and close to the scorching sky! Some clouds let the sun go through, making for a great effect of sun poured into the valley below! The vista was superb and peaceful… Like a green blanket covering a sleeping body, unmoved … Peaceful that is, if it were not for the handful of very chatty (and loud) Japanese tourists nearby, that somewhat spoiled the whole effect! Still, there is something majestic, royal, and uplifting about being at the top of the world! For a short person, it’s the ultimate conquest! That’s one moment when I always think two things: I know there is God, because the world below me is such pure perfection, and second: now, I know what it feels like to be a bird: free!
With very little daylight left (one and a half hours was pushing it!), we headed towards the Linville Falls, further South even. After a wrong turn, and a walk deep in the quiet, tall woods, for about half an hour, we were back in the car looking for the right trail. We parked, and this time, we paid attention to the signs! After a 0.6 mile hike, we walked up, breathless, to the Chimney View that gave us an opening of both the Upper and Lower Falls, and we remained breathless indeed! The Upper Falls are smaller but wider, only to open up in a huge, narrow plunge into the Lower Falls, which in turn gets lost in the woods, and then falls quiets down into the bed of the stream in the valley.. My friend, a kayaker and rafter, could not help but exclaim something similar to this: “Wow, that would be a great drop on a boat!”… I didn’t agree…I guess each of us has our phobias as well as rushes!
After several minutes of ultimate pleasure, and wonder, again, in the face of Mother Nature, and Father God, we decided that no matter how peaceful the water sounded, and how hypnotic, we were not equipped for camping the night, and we had to return to the car, since our camera flash starting going off: the first signal the sun was turning in for the day… We both agreed we’re mountain people. How can we not be? So humble and small and overwhelmed and yet protected in the face of the Universe?! And we both knew that no matter where we ended up living, the woods and the mountains will always hold the key to the silence and the serenity we needed so, from time to time, to move on …
The hike back seemed shorter, but that was maybe because we were again eager to know whether we took the right trail: on the way back, we came to a fork in the road, which we hadn’t notice the first time, that lead to 2 different parking lots. We had no clue which one was ours, but I am a trusting nature (not!), and I trusted my friend’s instinct… It was a good decision…
The light was barely in the sky at 8.30 when we got to the car, and we were starved, too!
After a NC BBQ dinner in Boone, we headed home, tired, feet tingling with exhaustion, tummies full of mountain food, and pores filled to the brim with freshness and peace! Mission accomplished, I should say!
We locked the treasure box in Boone, and headed home, on 421! The treasure will be there, locked, for freshness, next time when the “city” will become once again (it never fails!) too claustrophobic and too polluted for our souls…
The trip was 13 hours and a half, but we could do it in one day! And what an accomplishment: huge mountain vistas, opened up into Eternity, clear Carolina blue skies, and sticky Southern humidity, cold brew with my part-Irish friend, fresh, fishy trout in the middle of a quaint town, gorges filled with raging water that allow themselves to be tamed into a stream at the end, delicious North Carolina BBQ and everywhere, the all-encompassing, ever-present purple rhododendron, bordering the Parkway and every valley … It’s good to feel at home and at peace!
For a visual peek:
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=3334re2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//photos.yahoo.com/ph//my_photos

Walmart and other cheap stuff…

Yes, I shop at Walmart… And I am not talking just about the casual once a month trip when you need some cleaning supplies, or some car mats, or some other “cheap” stuff that “looks” expensive but on which you care not spend the buck! I mean, I am a very loyal customer of the controversial joint; I go there weekly if not twice or three times a week. Yes, I am one of those disappearing breeds that “runs into Walmart real quick” (trying to fake the accent here), just for ONE thing at times (like chap stick, or the occasional loaf of bread I am running out of, or even a bag of salad, before dinner).
My motivation is very simply economical: I have one income, and I don’t make enough to spend $2 for a loaf of bread, and I prefer the $1.25 loaf at Walmart, for instance… Not make enough to spend $2.50 for a box of strawberries, when Walmart sells them for $1.50 a box (same box size!). Well, think, just in those two, I am saving $ 1.75 a week! Times 52, that’s $91.00!!! That’s one month of Home Owners’ Fees, or a tank full of gas to drive to the beach one weekend! (or further!). That’s a LOT of “specials” for lunch, at the Thai place (where I pay $5.00, $6 with the tip), and at least THREE individual sushi dinners! I also love to travel, and I would not afford trips to Europe yearly, and outings every month, if it were not for Walmart…
Yes, I know, now you’re disgusted and appalled, that “OMG, she’s buying FOOD at Walmart! Holy Jesus! She’s dying!!!!”… Well, I am not! And yes, I buy “food” there; because when I need the brands, they’re on the shelf for at least 3 quarters of the prices you see at Lowes Foods, and half of what they are at Harris Teeter! And the store brands in some products are actually better than Harris Teeter’s! And to me, a single-income-low-paid-immigrant of this country, it’s immoral to pay more! It truly is! I buy not only food there, but everything else: socks, cd’s, dvd’s, blankets, party supplies, cleaning supplies, plants, even computer accessories, and electronics, car accessories, I buy my paint there, and the paint supplies! The only thing I don’t buy at Walmart are prints from my digital camera. Why?! You guessed it: because someone else (SamsClub) … has those for cheaper! :-) But other than that, I live by the mantra one of my friends gave me a long time ago: “If Walmart don’t have it, you don’t really need it, hon!”. Yes, she was very Southern, so…?!?
I love the place, and that doesn’t mean I fit ANY stereotypes I have heard about since I moved to the US. I am not a redneck, nor am I missing any teeth; I don’t come from West Virginia, and I don’t drive a pickup! I am just a budget shopper. And Walmart fits that bill …- cliché?! OK! I can live with that, too…
In marketing class they taught us that Walmart is hurting the other retailers, because they offer everything the others offer, at half the price. And I understand that! They spend less on customer service, and cleanliness than the other retailers, and afford to save more for the customer… As I have said: I go there for the money savings! Nothing else!
People ask me all the time how I can live with the lack of customer service, and the dirty aisles, and most definitely the infected bathrooms, and the messy floor displays ! Well, I simply go into the store with different expectations than that! I put on my horses’ glasses and walk right through with my shopping list in hand and pretend I don’t notice the “inconveniences”. I am armed with patience and endurance, and move right along… And when my cartful comes up to $50 at the end I smile big! It’s all in the expectations… And I try not to build them up before I go to Walmart …
There is, however, one thing I will never do at Walmart (I am sorry, my friend who should remain nameless, who suggested this!): I will not go there to hook up with men! Even I, a single-income-low-paid-immigrant, am more picky that that! And that is not because of the stereotypes, either: I would not chase men in Harris Teeter either…There is something about men in pajama pants buying cases of beer that I find repulsing at a grocery store…
And one more thing, for those of you cringing: have you tasted the cheesecake in their bakery?! Let me know what you think when you do!

Letting go …

“The moment I let go of it was
The moment I got more than I could handle”

I’ve been trying to let go for years … I’ve been reading Eastern Thought books, and doing yoga, fighting with meditation, and learning about Buddhism and Nirvana, ever changing and impermanent …. And trying non-attachment, and “training” my brain to just stop, for a brief moment and just … soak into the present …For years and years, I tell you … And yet my stubborn, ever moving, and ever energetic, fiery Aries nature has kept me going, and going, and going … And I have been known to think too much, and want too much, and plan too much, and when reality didn’t match my make-believe dreams, I was deeply saddened and lonely, felt hurt and unfortunate, felt pity and loneliness…

I couldn’t learn from my cats, who are undisturbed when napping, nor from the sun who stubbornly comes up into the East every morning, nor from the patience of the monks who dedicate their lives to the Lord every day, in the same unchanged routine every day, for centuries, without questioning…. I was always questing a change and looking to tip the boat… looking for something different and new and “else”… And wanting, ever wanting and needing, and not just relaxing and breathing into the moment … For years…Wasted years and books and thoughts, and I am sure brain cells, too…

I think finally, I am listening to my own body and heart… And I am figuring that after failures and heartaches, the only thing that is permanent is beautiful memories, and happy times that life simply creates for us, and unexpected surprises that we never really ever predicted, much less planned for! … So, for a change, I am just soaking, for once, into the now, and waiting for time to kind of unfold… and for life just to happen… And the surprises are endless… And the beauty of the world in borderless… I’ve had some of the happiest times, and yet the saddest times lately… But I managed not to let the saddest times kill me and my spirit, because I let the happiest time take their toll and unfold, without trying to control either of them, nor be suspicious of anything… And finally, after a quest of at least 6 years now, I am finally seeing the light and breathing the fresh air … I float, instead of trying to constantly steer … And the bounty of joy is surprisingly generous, and ecstatic… Breathless at times … And I enjoy the body-board… taking me to shores unknown and full of beauty, silence, and endless freshness … Not ready yet to jump off on it and swim on my own… Enjoying the randomness and unpredictability of the float, and getting so rich off of simply letting go, and being aware and awake …

This excerpt reminded me of all these, this week:
“You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait. Do not even wait, be quite still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice. It will roll in ecstasy at your feet.” (Kafka)

Being slow, oh well! - (thinking out loud)

I can't help but wonder sometimes what in the world is wrong with me?! Why certain things that used to be fun are all of a sudden cumbersome at best, if not downright annoying as all hell! Dates seem to be annoying races to show off and impress, and going out to bars is more disgusting and judgmental than anything else... I used to be : " my way or the highway, go f*ck yourself if you don't like it, bitch"- type of gal, now I am accommodating and give people a second, and a third and a fourth chance... I've also used to be a "kiss on first date, sleep on second ... ok, maybe third... " gal, and now I'm ... well, let's not go there!
I've become more critical over the years, and all of a sudden more circumspect... I hold a lot more tension in my shoulders, from just not letting go (and from asking way too many questions, out loud or not...) ... I think twice about everything and that sometimes is a waste of time, and certainly of fun, or so I think, sometimes... It feels like it ...
I can't keep up with the fashion anymore, since the fashion is more and more skin, less and less cloth, and I feel like my body's starting to feel the 31 years I've packed on it! I'm one of the luckier 31 year olds, if I may say so myself, but I feel every hour of every one of those years... And trust me, so does my graying hair and my speckled skin...So, I don't think more skin IS worth showing, really ... And thus, I "lose" to the youngsters that are showing it all...Oh, well ...
I s'ppose things have changed, and now I have to put on my 31 year old glasses and look at the world and try to integrate and mingle, and ... date ... in a new age (for me and for the world)... Of course, coming from the comfortable cradle of 8 years of being "hitched" is not helping my rusty motors, either...
But hey, don't let me bring you down, all right... The old age wisdom and accumulated experience and insight are there to be shared for anyone who cares enough to discover it ... I know, you're saying: "honey, that, in balance with more skin is LOSIINGGG!!!!" ... I know, so, move right along, please! Save your time, and mine, too ... I may be slow, and judgemental, but I still like myself that way, and at the end of the day, I am the only person on the planet I gotta please! And I am pleased with that! :-)
We still live in a speed-driven century and people don't have time for taking time to discover ... It's the "instant gratification" age, as a friend was calling it the other day ... We all want "one hour photos" and "same day deliveries"... Who has time for long chats or walks under the moon?! No time for that, chick! You give it all out on day one, OK, you got an extra day from me, if I decide you're worth another breath of my lungs, and if you don't deliver the goods then, you're out ...
And that's how I am still in the window, catching dust and still being looked on/at ... I love the circus before my eyes, however... It's better than any movie, and it's free! Some even pay for your drinks...:-)

Thank you!

Have you ever felt that ALL your ships will be sunken at the end of the battle?? Have you ever sat there and asked yourselves: "Gosh, why does it HAVE to pour every time it rains?"?! Have you ever felt so lost, and helpless you didn't know whether to scream, yell, kill yourself, or just shoot someone else?! Have you ever felt abandoned by ALL?! Fate... God...Your country... Fate... Any family, and friends you've EVER known .... Abandoned by Hope, even ... ?!? Have you?!? I am sure you have...

That's how my day was... Painfully slow and sad... I don't mind days like these, once in a while: they make me be grateful when I AM happy, and when I DO feel like I have stuff to be grateful for ... But when they come on a MONDAY, I just want to scream, or yell, or shoot... you know... !!!!!

But today it was different: I did feel like all that, and it was a Monday, but because some of the people I know took the time from their busy lives to "stop by" and say hey, and say a few nice words, I did see the silver lining! So, thank you! All of you who did stop by and made my day! On MySpace, and outside... You're a God-send and a blessing to have, so thank you! You made me live, and even smile on a day where I found impossible to ... breathe! Thank you!

I Have Issues! - a MySpace Blog

I've always worn my heart on the sleeve, as they say around here... I always thought keeping secrets and especially lying is SUCH a waste of time ... They always told me I won't live long, too, so I have always been paranoid that I'd go before the world realized how I truly am! I think to this day that not seeing the true me is so wrong, and such a sin, on my part, if I don't reveal the true me... So, here are some things off the top of my head that would describe me... (the moral is at the end, so please read on):

I love travels and nothing moves me more than being in a place that is new, and unfamiliar; I soak up the new-ness of a new place through my pores, and nose, and eyes, and ears; it's what gives me the rush; the open road, the planes taking off, the people-watching in the airports; I love falling asleep with Mr. Fero purring in my ear, and Gypsy kneading my chest, while Li'l Kitty warms up my feet; I love a warm stinky breath of a kitten or a puppy in my face; I love popcorn and fries, and those are just two reasons why I'd never be on a successful diet; I love food, in general, and mostly carbs, but I'd eat anything from chicken feet to sushi; books are my friends on a rainy afternoon, or a sunny morning at the beach, or a midnight any time of the year, in an airplane, or on a train, at work on my lunch break, in my car while waiting for the friend to get there, in my car, in the drive through wash... Books are where my money goes ...; I will tell you if you have toilet paper sticking out of your pants, and if you have ketchup on your chin; I will tell you if your dress makes you look fat, or your new hairdo looks like shit; I will ask you about your past because I am nosey; I love scars, because they always, with no exception, tell a story; I don't like tattoos if they DON'T tell a story; a pretty little rose because you wanted a tattoo but didn't know what to get and you didn't want it too big is cheesy! - sorry! I love rain when it comes once a season! Draught?!? Please, people, this is America, we won't ever die of starvation OR thirst!!!; I love and live for my family; they always come first; I have little patience for movies; unless I can stop, and fast forward, they usually suck to me! (with a handful of exceptions); I like rules, but I love exceptions; I like laughter and to make people smile; I love smiles, not necessarily laughters, since they can be fake ... I like to help people and especially those that are never paid attention to (like old people); I cook my own foods (including snacks), clean my own house, paint my own walls, frame my art myself, do my own nails, adjust my clothes (nothing ever fits me in this country!), hand wash my dishes, although I have a dishwasher; I never buy from E-bay because I want instant gratification: can't wait for the stupid auction to close!!!; I love adoption, and believe strongly in over-population; I love sex, but I can't see it just as an act; if I want to burn calories, I'll go for a walk instead!; I love the mountains for the mystery and the beach for the peacefulness; I hate lying with a passion. mainly because I am not stupid, and I hate when people assume that I am; I love and respect tolerance when I find it, but just like happiness, it's a nice utopia! It will forever be missing in the world, in its pure and absolute form! I myself cannot be tolerant towards ignorance, and others' jumping to conclusions, and conscious and stubborn close-mindedness; I also see myself as a tolerant with strong opinions; like I said: complete and total tolerance will forever be unattained in this world; just like the existence of clean air ... That's the gist of it ...

So, for those of you who lately have been telling me that I "have issues" and I "am a basket case", and "I am at a weird place in my life" , thank you... I suppose I am all that... And I also suppose it takes one to know one, too...Although coming from some of you, it's insulting ... I also kindly invite you to read some Freud, and see how we all are in fact mental patients, in various ways... I promise reading won't kill ya'! :-) And "who is Freud anyways, to be such a trusted source?!" - well, let's just say he has made more history than you, so ... enjoy! Thank you for thinking "I have issues", but please read this, when you do have the curiosity to find out just who I "really" am...

And, yes, I do realize that in my previous blog I said the same about others, but that was not my point there: that blog was about "false advertising"; my point there was that people present a fake image of themselves on this site, when in fact I find out (after getting to know them a bit) that they are very different than their own description of themselves...

And, to close, this is my motto in life, if you're interested (reminds me of my own dad, too, and his advice to me, when I was very little): from Margo Kaufman:

"I once complained to my father that I didn't seem to be able to do things the same way other people did. Dad's advice? 'Margo, don't be a sheep. People hate sheep. They eat sheep'."

MySpace Quiz - with an Attitude!

This is a repost of an older blog. I have been told, over all this time, that I am bitter... Well, I will forever refer to this blog, since this was pretty much my initial reaction to this whole MySpace zoo, as an explanation as to "why" I am bitter (should that be necessary)... And I still hold (partially) this feeling... Sure, I have met some wonderful people here, people that I really relate to, and people that can see the beauty in a drop of dew, or a cat asleep, or a sunset, people with common sense, and well-meaning ... Just like I said before, and with the risk of being repetitive: there are always wonderful exceptions out there! Just reposting this, for the world, and for a personal reminder ...

This was actually created on February 18, 2006
The MySpace Quiz –with an Attitude!

When I said in the “about me” section (on MySpace.com) that people can ask me “about me” and I will answer, if they need to know more than what’s in there, I didn’t have in mind exactly the questions that I have been getting in my e-mails… But no need to be picky now, I will answer the questions I’ve gotten so far, and hopefully shed some more light on what I want and who I am. And sorry (not really) for the attitude in my tone. Sometimes this site just…brings out the worst in me. And if you had the courage to ask on your own terms, I think one should have the courage to answer … on their own terms as well.
Here we go:

Exact quote: “Have u heard about Do you like? It is very cool site.The thing is, they show you a pic of a boy and ask if u like him. You answer Yes or No. Do u like me?”
Honey, I don’t need to see your picture to know I don’t like you! I’m simply NOT into “boys”. And now I have heard of “do you like?”, and I hope you got your answer too…

My girlfriend made me write to you. She likes to get crazy with girls sometimes and she loves your profile, so she wanted to know if you’re interested. Just to warn you, she loves to use the video camera. Here’s her link, would you write her back?!
Hhhmm… OK, you’re obviously not man enough to admit you’re a kinky bastard who likes to watch two chicks doing it, and your girlfriend, if she exists, probably has no idea you wrote to me. Pi$$ off!

I’m am open minded girl who likes to get it on with other girls sometimes. Are you interested?
Read the left hand side, you moron! It says “straight”, as in “heterosexual straight”. I didn’t say “bi”, nor “not sure”, I said “straight”. And if at any point I would have mentioned I was “gay”, I think I would have used “happy” instead!

Exact quote: “Hey my angel,its been a while i heared from you last.i hope u are ok?why have you decided not to mail me for sometime now.please get back with me immediately”
Well, you can’t spell – I have an English major: see the problem?

I want to talk to you more because I am into foreign chicks. I am in the military. Will you write me back?
No. You kill people for a living. Thanks. I think I’ll pass.

Wanna f^$k?
Hhmm… Yeah, F^$k YOU, but not in the same sense you’re thinking!

Hey, I think you’re sexy, so next time when you’re online, would you hit me up?
I would LOVE to! Upside your head, if I got a chance.

And my absolute favorite:
Hey, am I bangable?
No, you’re an idiot. That’s not even a real word!

Keep the questions coming, people! Thanks for your interest and for keeping the Circus alive!

My Heart Belongs to the Mountains…

(sorry for always being so long, but I do not know how to be ... short ...)

"In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, there's a land that's fair and bright,
The handouts grow on bushes and you sleep out every night
Where the boxcars all are empty and the sun shines every day
On the birds and the bees and the cigarette trees,
The lemonade springs where the bluebird sings
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

...
The farmer's trees are full of fruit and the barns are full of hay
Oh I'm bound to go where there ain't no snow
Where the rain don't fall, the wind don't blow
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains, you never change your socks
And little streams of alcohol come a-trickling down the rocks
The brakemen have to tip their hats and the railroad bulls are blind
There's a lake of stew and of whiskey too
And you can paddle all around 'em in a big canoe
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

In the Big Rock Candy Mountains...
There ain't no short-handled shovels, no axes, saws or picks,
I'm a-goin' to stay where you sleep all day
Where they hung the jerk that invented work
In the Big Rock Candy Mountains

I'll see you all this comin' fall in the Big Rock Candy Mountains!"
I grew up half the time, in the mountains of Romania... The story of that civilization is fit for a novel so, I'm not even going to attempt to describe it... And although I am, by any Romanian or American standards, a "city girl", I will forever be a "Mountain Girl" at heart... All you need to know about this hidden civilization is: to this day, it's my symbol of supreme freedom and of unbounded self-expression.
Up there, we used to be very close to the land, and very close to the most primitive way of living: we made a fire in the stove if we needed heat, or to heat up food; we made hay every summer, gave thanks to the Lord every night, went to church every Sunday to which we walked for at least 3 miles one way, or if we were lucky, we'd ride a horse drawn carriage, we would pick fresh eggs from the stables at the end of every day, we would start every day with a shot of homemade liquor, just for strength and stamina, I guess,we went to the woods to pick mushrooms and wild berries for dinner, milked the cows up in the pastures every morning and night, raised and ate the chicken and ducks, and the lambs and the pigs...
For fun, we listened to the "people's" music, Romanian folk music, which here to me has the correspondent very much in the bluegrass and Americana music, or sometimes even in zydeco, too... Simple and yet such complex songs of love, life, good times, and bad, growing up, and growing old, and growing dead... Just the basic rites of passage that we ALL as humans can relate to, songs that are done with the power of the instrument and human voice alone, none of this computer, synthesizer stuff of today...
On Sundays and holidays, we'd gather up and tell stories, about what happens in the cities, what happens in far away worlds, the violence and "strangeness" and how happy we were there, inside the mountain circle, to be so far away from it all! Then, in the evening, we'd listen to music, and dance all night...The home-made alcohol was pouring, and the people were dancing, and the food was plenty and delicious and fresh, all home-made and eaten with our dirty and tired fingers, and the songs were telling a happy story of an idyllic time ... We laughed and at the end of the party, deep in the night, we all had found a "pair" and we would be sitting in the dark, under a tree, listening to crickets and kissing ...tired, drunk and happy... In the winter, it was the fire pit that we sat around, and kissed and enjoyed warmth and close quarters... It was in one of those nights that I got my first kiss, under a sky full of billions of stars, and in the grass loaded with dew, no electricity and no candle light, just the light of the stars and the moon, and the chillness of the forest wind and the mountain crisp air... and I would not trade that moment (me, a "city" girl!!!) for the world and 3 Americas put together! That, to me, is Paradise!
The passions were intense and brutal, be it love or hate; the words were simple and the sentences short; people were simple and beautiful ... There were no surprises, the time stood still and it just repeated the same old traditions that spiraled around for centuries... It was (still is) a gut-feeling sort of world...
And today, some of these feelings come back, again and again, when I happen to listen to blue grass, folk, some old country (the "real country", as I call it), and whatever they call "Americana" music... The same feverish giddiness and happiness, the same sense of freedom... I have always considered myself, a rock-n-roll, hippie child, grown up on Hendrix, and Joplin, and Jim Morrison, and Creedence, and the Beatles, but this music I discovered when I moved to the States (which has NO ambassadors in Romania, unfortunately) stirs up the deep emotional pot in my heart... I can hear the mountain brook behind our house trickling, cold, on rocks, in these songs, and people folding the dry hay, and children laughing in the pastures, and teenagers chasing each other for a kiss, or two... It's freedom and love... And I can hear and see the liquor pouring and the fresh bread being torn and divided amongst all, as friends... In this world of paranoia and terrorism, I can feel the human closeness, yet again ... It's the basic, most simple things in life all condensed in one memory which I feed off of for strength every day ...
These feelings came back to me last night, while listening to "Johnny's Middle Finger" ("And it's nothing personal"- as Sam says! ) ... They played at The Rhino, and they did it with love and fun, not because the audience was particularly attentive... If any of you, "Mountain People" (at heart, especially, and I know you're out there, 'cause I've met you) can relate to what I relate with in this music, you should go check them out next time...They're pretty good and they can even make you cry! They can really make you dream, and isn't that preferred in this world of crudeness?! They can make you stop for a minute, relax, breathe, and find that basic, primitive, gut-feeling of joy we all too often miss in today's world! Just a nice oasis of unconditional peace and love ... Go enjoy, and drink and cry if you wish! It's all good... and all very human ...
And as the song goes: "life's a pleasure, but love's no dream " ...

A Different Kind of Easter ...

Every year, I celebrate Easter according to the Orthodox Church, and thus "off" from everybody else. And "off" it is, trust me, to other folks around me, too... My customs, as a Romanian, are very different from anyone else's, including, probably, the people in my own church here, that come from countries other than Romania... Used to what we do in my family, I cook a fridge-full of food, and clean my house from top to bottom, I fast from animal products (i.e. I become a "vegan") for the last week of the Lent and eat and drink holy bread and water every morning, on an empty stomach, while I say my prayer - to respect the Death and the Torture and the upcoming Resurrection of the Son of Man...

The time from Good Friday till midnight Saturday is a sad and somber time: it's when Jesus was actually killed.... I feel like the world is empty those 36-some hours...I feel a void, like we all got sucked into this deep, bottomless black hole; time stretches.... Then, at midnight, on Easter Saturday, I go to church and bring the Light of Easter into my house, and when I hear the 'Jesus has risen, He has truly risen song', I feel the world coming to life again; the sun WILL indeed rise the next day, as Jesus now brings us light. The next morning, hungry and empty after the fasting and the sleepless night, tired from all the cleaning and the cooking, I eat the first "meat-full" breakfast and I crack a red dyed egg. That first meal tastes better than all the meals over the entire year. It's the reward at the end of a "different" kind of week; it's the reward and the "thank you" to God that allowed me to keep my customs intact for another year; it's the "thank you" to me, that I have not once more forgotten about where I come from...

Easter is a miraculous and mysterious time for me, and I find it, just like my whole family and culture do, the most fascinating of Christian Holidays! We all get born, but only "Jesus was risen". It's the most hopeful of holidays! It gives us the promise of eternal life, and I believe it's no random happening that it should occur in the spring, for that very reason...

Although a spiritual believer in every sense of the word, I am not particularly a very religious person. However, I have never questioned these feelings, and this "order" of things ! They were passed on to me, along with my brown eyes, curly hair and short stature... And just like that, they're here to stay forever ... I have done these things and lived these emotions for years now. Even after I moved here (and people invite me out drinking and partying on "my" Good Friday), and I don't have the support of my culture to keep me going (the said people have no clue why I say "no, I have to cook and clean for Easter"), it's something I do every year. To me, it's the "order" of things that has to keep on going... It's how my ancestors left it to me, and I have the duty (unwritten anywhere but in my heart) to pass it on, and at least for this lifetime, not to let it die... Should I skip this "order" of things for just one time, one year...I would feel incomplete...

This year, there will be no one to help me break the egg, and no one to share breakfast with me, after the night of the Resurrection. But tradition, order, love, hope and ... life ... move on...

Spring Cleaning?! Or More ...

Every so often, I "clean up" my life... Not just my house, but my life as a whole ... I get into these moods, maybe every 2-3 years where I have to refresh most of everything around me. It always occurs with the spring, since every spring I at least "spring clean" my house ... It starts with the closets, then the sock drawers, and the window boxes, and the outdoor storage I have, then it gets to the bill folders, and the pictures, and then the computer hard drive, and then it moves on... I paint a room or two in my house, I buy new clothes, I do new things, see new places, I haven't seen before, I try to meet new people, and I also cleanse my body and soul... I clean up my diet, and my fridge, and my medicine cabinet, and my bathroom cabinet, I do it ALL!

And sometimes (like this year, hopefully), I look deep down in the bottom of my soul's well and try to see what's there, and try to purify it if I can... I return to the mat (the yoga mat, that is), and I build again a new pattern of meeting it more often, and more regularly... I breathe deeper, and I become more aware of not clenching my teeth or smiling more when life throws a challenge at me (every day, as for all of us, I am sure...).

And I clean up my mind, too ... I restock the bookshelves, and the magazine rack, and I try to open up to new genres and new writers, and new perspectives on the world ... I buy new cd's and try new music out, just to see how I like it ...

It's all invigorating, and freeing ... It always has to be freeing with me... And I try for one brief moment to at least dream of doing one thing, at least one, that is completely new, and which I have never tried before... I'm looking, and searching... I guess blogging is my new thing for sure this year! It's a big step to open up to strangers and such, especially as shy and insecure I am about my writing in another language ... A new way to be vulnerable ... But again, freeing...

We refresh our lungs with every breath, and our heart with new oxygenated blood ... why keep our physical quarters old and smelly?! Moldy and damp?! Why keep our habits and minds full of dusty thoughts? Sure, the basis, the "container" is still all there, intact, but the "accessories", the ephemeral media that populate them need a little refreshment, for me at least... The heart and the lungs stay... not what fills them up...

If you decide to try it out: Happy Spring Cleaning to all ... It really puts you back to square one and gives you renewed and plentiful hope, just like Sisyphus must have felt when he saw himself again at the bottom of the hill...:-)

PS: I know you're wondering if it lasts... For as long as I can keep it... I try to believe I can only better myself, and I never open a shut door... So, what's chucked this time around, stays away pretty much for good...

Things Are Different ...

A lot of people here have asked me what's shocking and different when I step into Europe, or my home country of Romania, and people there have asked me what's shocking and different here, when I step into America... Hhmmm... Just off the top of my head, here's my list of things visible to anyone traveling at first glance:

GETTING OFF THE PLANE IN EUROPE, I couldn't help but noticing the different fashion: everyone looks like they're peeled off a GQ or Style, or Vogue magazine. Everyone has fashionable glasses, haircuts, clothes, bags, and stuff you see on TV, not in real life in small town America, on people going to the mall; the newspaper stands and bookshelves feature naked people, and the sex magazines are up front ; travel comes next, and then politics. People are slim, tall and walking or shopping in the airport boutiques. They have small carryons, backpacks or shoulder strapped ones, and maybe a couple of paper shopping bags, that look like gift bags. They carry bags that you see on E! worn by movie stars... They seldom talk on the cells or listen to music on some device ... They read and walk around... People in airport bars, smoking and drinking coffee or a beer in between planes ...They all wear what I call "European" shoes: they look weird, have weird colors, and are shaped funny. They don't look comfy, just ... different...

ONCE ARRIVED IN ROMANIA, the airport (as well as the cars and homes) was (were) not climate controlled and thus was very stuffy; there was no ice anywhere; all the drinks are room temperature, and the fridges in all the houses I went fail to keep the food and the drinks icy cold; everything there is much warmer, in that respect... They all yelled at me for wearing short sleeves, but the air is so hot and stuffy, I couldn't help it... In the car, on the way from the airport, mom has cold cut sandwiches she made before she picked me up; we stop for beer and mom and I drink while dad's driving us home...

The toilet paper there is pink, gray or beige, and still rough... Trust me, it is, it's not that I am picky. No one eats out in Romania. We cook everything, and if we do go out once a year, we make a big deal out of it, and we dress up, as if we're going to a wedding. Everyone there has high cholesterol yet they eat everything fried or soaked in oil, and insist they're using olive oil which has no cholesterol and it's healthy ... Their diets are weird. You think South Beach is weird? Or Atkins?! Go to Romania...God only understands those!!! Everyone smokes at the dining room table, while the rest of us are eating. They have shots of liquor for breakfast; there is no such thing as "sweet stuff" for breakfast (muffins, pancakes, waffles - nope!), everything is eggs and meat, or leftover cold fried chicken or cold cuts. The lunch always has 2 courses (always a soup)and dessert; dinner - one dish and it's always potatoes (at least at my mom's house) and some kind of meat. There are no traffic rules there, or so it seems: 2 lanes, and 4 cars driving in one direction; passing on the roads is common practice, and honking as well. Streets are soooo narrow, you feel like you're going to hit the cars parked on the sides at all times, or the people driving in the opposite directions. Cars look smaller than a BMW Mini... about 90 percent of them! All cars have 2-3 or more people in them...

The air is dry . A 10 minute rain will cool everything down by at least 5 degrees... Cars drive slow...35-40 miles an hour is the norm... It's a walking country: everyone is walking and you have to watch out for people, stray dogs, and farm animals everywhere ... Parking on the sidewalks and the grass is common as well...Stray dogs everywhere... Can't sleep at night from the hawling of the dogs and meowing of stray cats; they fight, and yelp at each other; the noise is deafening at times ... Roosters wake you up at 5 AM, every day ... Shower-heads are hand held... Coffee is Turkish and awfully strong, made in a pot... They drink it in small cups, too ... Everything is home made, or about 90 percent of what you eat ... The hosts and hostesses spend about three quarters of their days in the kitchen ... Cell phones all have weird-sounding rings: snippets of songs, foreign and Romanian...

ONCE IN THE STATES, what strikes you at the airports is the amount of very large people. A lot of people barely getting out of airport chairs and gasping for air. Here and there people are eating, or snacking at restaurants or at gates. Everyone is either talking on the cell, working on a laptop or listening to music, I assume... Might be books on tapes?! Their dress is plain and simple, seems comfy, too ... If someone is wearing makeup or has an unusual hairdo, they stand out ... People stare without realizing they do... The shoes are comfy, not really stylish. Most people wobble when they walk... Their carryons are enormous, they sometimes have 3-4 of them, and I keep wondering how is that allowed?! A lot of people chew gum in American airports... Everyone carries a drink and all the drinks are huge, oversized McDonalds or Wendy's cups, or huge bottles of water. The books that are displayed upfront in the bookstands are always diet books... Relationships and politics come next... There are no naked people on the cover magazines displayed up front. At all? Didn't look...

Once on the roads, everything is organized and people respect the number of lanes in the road. No one passes, no one honks... Roads are wider and there are no potholes... No stray dogs either. Traffic moves smoothly, with no surprises here... Streets are wide, and cars are huge... about 80 percent of them! The majority of cars have just the driver inside... We stop for fast food, and head home for dinner...

I am often asked, too, which one feels like home?! And I can never answer that: both and neither... or a little bit of both and a lot bit of both, too ... One thing I am still struggling with: trying to make dad happy: he always thinks I am still a hippy, because I don't dress "European", but "American", that is "comfortable", to me ... *sigh* .... I guess in some ways I do choose one over the other... I feel sometimes that I am suspended in between the two worlds, and never really belonging to either ... but it's a great feeling... I feel like I can never get bored this way...And I am also very grateful to know the difference... and appreciate it ...

Soaking in the Flavor of Home

Iasi, Romania

"To really love a woman
Let her hold you -
Till you know how she needs to be touched
Youve gotta breathe her - really taste her
Till you can feel her in your blood "

... when you drive down the road and you hear this on the radio, you know youre in Romania .Things are behind here, with everything .Not only by 10-15 years sometimes, but maybe 100-200 . But thats the charm of being here. And when I return I feel like my heart slows down a bit, just to run, for a couple of weeks, on an ancient speed Its refreshing, just like a good nap.
I thought I'd do a short (relatively short, since I cannot write short )entry today, so I won't piss off mom who already thinks I spend too much time on the PC. I also have to defrag this old machine and clean up the spyware, so, here I go...
What's it like being here?! Well, first and foremost, I am reminded every day why I left: too little money, too high prices, always in debt. Potholes the size of tubs in all the roads pickpockets everywhere and they smell too dust... so much dust and so thick and sticky... fines charged for things that are not illegal, but the policeman is always right, so if they should ask for money, you gotta give it to them (although you get no receipt, so you know the money ends up in their pocket); some parliament official decides to cancel customs taxes for 48 hours only, and after the 48 hours the taxes are back in; reason being: he has to import something for his own business from Germany during those 48 hours and he'd like not to pay extra money .Once he's done, taxes are back The blocks of flats have huge holes in between the stories, from water damage; insulation is poor, and the hard winters peel off the crumbling concrete they're made of; but everyone carries a cell phone, while complaining they don't have enough money to fix the insulation; stray animals in heat everywhere, roaming free; biting people in the streets; people dying from bites, and the stray animals get a lawyer (honest to God lawyer), so that the city won't kill the animal, for biting a human to death; you make $500 a month if you are really lucky and your gas bill alone is $100 of them; gasoline at the pump is over $4 a gallon and most of everybody owns a car, or sometimes two...always in debt and I can go on and on till the cows come home.
On the other hand, inside the house, when you see your family, the climate is warm and the smiles are big; we party every day; we cook grilled food on a real wood grill, and home make everything, from French fries to jarred pickles, from ice-cream to wine . We bring out the cloth table covers and the best China and gather around the huge dining room table when we have 20 guests over, pretty much every week and have a sit down dinner, with 5-6 courses; it feels like Christmas again; we talk all at one time and we laugh for hours on end; we turn the TV on and dance on Romanian music till after midnight . We eat non-stop, and drink too, all day long, and yet never feel quite full nor drunk. We hug a lot and kiss on both cheeks. We buy hot bread right out of the brick oven and eat half of the loaf before we get home. When we run out of the goodies, we need not drive anywhere, since the distances here are so close. When some of the non-family guests leave the women in the family get together around the kitchen table and cross stitch and knit and we talk about the men and how corky and impossible they are (yes, some things are universal); one of us gives some a manicure, and sometimes a haircut, while another gives another one a facial treatment; the men go to the living room and watch soccer; it's all under one roof and all very intimate; we love close quarters ...
It's not the quality of life that is offered to us that makes us tick; we lost all the hopes in all the governments we've ever had, and also all hope that Americans will ever come to our rescue; we have nothing to offer the Americans but our history and cultural richness, which don't come with a price tag! It's not the quality, I said, of life we're given that makes us happy; it's how big of a bite we take from it; we gorge on life here! We love the moment more than we love the future, because we know the future might never come, and it never comes brighter. And the moment is here, and now and at least we have each other. And this is what I miss when I am away. This is why I do come back: because every year I need to recharge my batteries from this richness and love. I need to be kissed on both cheeks and hugged a lot! I need to dance along with other people that won't look at me funny if I dance on impulse when I'm cooking a pot of fries! I need to be free, in my heart... Which is odd I left Romania for the complete freedom of the most free country in the world and yet I come here for it one more time... Just like the boy in the Alchemist or the Buddha: you start on a journey only to find out what you're looking for has always been either home, or within yourself ... It's so ironic, and it repeats with every destiny and yet we always set off on that journey! We always follow what we believe is our path. Mine is in America, I guess, with Romanian detours every so often ...
Home smells like dust and unwashed stray dogs; smells like rain on cool April nights; it smells like starch which mom uses for all her bedding; it smells like hot fresh French bread; it tastes like homemade wine and apple pie (NO cinnamon either!!!); it feels like mom's hugs and kisses: plenty and generous and safe; home is patience and slowing down; lack of speed and plenty of attention on the small things. Home is cats on a window sill baking in the sun ... Home is the real wood grill burning outside and waiting on the "mici" meat to be thrown on it ...Home is poor and rich at the same time, but always happy ...Home is timeless pleasures ... And it will forever be imprinted in my personality and character, no matter how many thousands of miles the airlines will take me ... Home is listening to Brian Adams' song and never even crossing your mind its an old song ... It's just singing along and thinking it's a good one ...
For pictures (might have to cut and paste):
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=/b305

Romania Trip: 2006

On the way there...

I started my trip off on March 30, from the Greensboro airport, en route to my home country of Romania. It’s been almost 2 years (one year and 7 months mom wanted to be precise) since my last visit… This entry will be about some thoughts and scenes I came across on the way here… I love people watching when I travel, and I love to soak myself in the moment of being there, in various environments that I am not normally in every day… I find having an ipod, or even a laptop (sometimes even a book) distracting and preventing you from really getting the most out of the travels. Of course, if you fly for a living, a laptop distraction might be needed since you do need to get away some. For me, the travels are still a luxury and I like to savor them, just like I do a good meal… So, people watching is what I did, and tried to take down some snippets of life on this 18 hour journey to Bucharest. Here we go:

- for the first couple of hours (before we took off from American soil in Washington), I kept obsessing with things I forgot to do when I left home… Like forgot to unplug my cell from the charger and forgot to tell my home keeper to plug in the filter for the fish, forgot (not sure) to clean my coffee maker… I was pulled back, and could not focus on the trip at all; amazing how we can be such slaves to our routine; I needed to let go and just literally fly away and feel free… Everything was out of my control at that point; slowly, like a baby falling asleep and slowly releasing the clutch it has on your finger, I finally let go.

- Washington Dulles airport was a zoo… It’s amazing what people do in airports that wouldn’t normally do in regular public places; this maybe 14 year old in a group of teens, had pulled out ALL her paper money and meticulously arranged them in line, in neat rows and columns on the floor. She made a carpet out of the bills, then she laid herself down on the “money carpet”, her legs on the chair and just looked at the ceiling and sang, waiting for her flight.

- The longest lag of the flight (Washington to Frankfurt, almost 8 hours) was probably the most uncomfortable; I was to sit next to this 300 pound woman, who was mad as all hell that “they don’t make planes bigger nowadays. Why don’t they make bigger plane seats nowadays, since the people are not as small as they used to be.” Then she looked at my barely 100 lbs frame and said, and added: “And by people I don’t mean all o’ ya’ Zeros!!!! I mean all the other people!!!”. I smiled, but did not agree; I was “a zero”, so, I guess non-values don’t talk! At any rate, we could not pull the arm rest between our chairs down the entire 8 hours, because she could not have fit in just one chair; she over flew into mine; so I sat on one half of a chair, with the meaty woman pressing into my thigh and ribs; needless to say, I could not control my reading light nor my volume for my radio, which both were mounted into the armrest we could not have access to; But, I was a “zero”, so zeros can’t be too picky; I tried to read and sleep my way through the flight; she woke me up twice to eat… Sure, that was nice! But just in the defense of the “zeros” maybe they should consider making bigger planes, since people are not considering eating less and staying slim, just so the “zeros” can travel in a full chair as well!

- I also had a screaming little girl in the chair in front of me, who kept staring at me over her seat and screaming at the top of her lungs the entire night; just screaming, not really crying nor singing, just yelling, man… tirelessly!!!! I put my headphones on, and since I could not mess with the volume and the volume was loud, I left it loud and I could not hear much of anything else, not even my thoughts; I was too short to see the projection screen, and could not watch the movie they played, since the chair in front of me was too tall… So, yippee… Nice night. Thank god for the Kerouac book I had (I know, way overdue!!!), and the Sudoku one as well as for my journal! You gotta take the fun where you find it… At any rate, I had not two second-thoughts about paying $5 for a Miller Light, because trust me: my nerves at that point NEEDED IT!!!  Yummiest beer I ever had, too… Sitting conspicuously on a United napkin with the slogan “Low Fares Guaranteed”… thinking of my overpriced beverage, that made me smile!

- In Frankfurt, I boarded yet another plane, to Bucharest; this was full of older American couples, that were flying to Romania to go on a cruise on the Danube. I love old people, generally, because they have such a peace about them, and they’re so funny! They’ve developed a humor that I can only dream of mustering one day! One of the jokes I heard that day, from them stuck in my head…Two older gentlemen were asking each other how long they’d been married: one said 40 years while the other 49; the one who said 49 told the one who said 40: “Yeah, trust me, the first 49 years are the hardest! (rolled his eyes). I should have shot her when I married her. I would have been out by now and it would have been the same thing!” – the whole bus that was taking us to the plane was on the floor, and I congratulated myself once more for my own thoughts on marriage… because, see, the voice of wisdom spoke and it agreed with me…

- We got to Bucharest safe and sound and one and a half hour late; not a problem, as long as the delay was not a day late, and as long as we were safe. Beers were free on Lufthansa, but it was way early in the morning and I was in a too good a mood now because my travel partners were so sweet and funny that I didn’t get one.