Life Happens!

And so it does! It doesn’t ask us if we’re ready for it, nor if we’re ready to move on. It just does. Life, that is. It happens!

And Lennon was right: while we’re busy making plans of whatever nature they might be (existential to purely mundane), life swishes by. And one day, we will wake up with a pile of memories, asking ourselves: “Good God, where were we?!” And there we were: paying bills, working, being stuck in the commute traffic twice a day, updating the Facebook status on the phone, in between red lights,  peeking at the Google News feed  – every day, yelling at our spouse, buying groceries, feeding cats, harvesting tomatoes … and it just went by … Like a dream. And whether we will like it or not – this would be our life.

Surely, life is so much more than these loops of  commonplaces strung together, but when do we get the time to weave anything else more “uplifting” in it?!

Lately, I have felt very much this way. I have felt very much in touch with the ordinary, day-to-day running around, but not very much in touch with the deeper (or higher) me. Sure, a curly, dimpled kid still makes me chuckle, I still notice my cats’ antics and I smile, I somehow find 5 minutes (literally!) of time before I snore my night away to read a passage in a book I happen to grab from the new shelves…But there are so many other things I want to do that I simply have no time or energy for!

No more in-depth, avid, breathless reading. No more crafts. No more writing – at least not as often. No more cooking just for pleasure. No more yoga. No more friends get-togethers. No more friends.

I used to have a life, I tell myself . Now, I have a routine. Makes me mad sometimes. But today, these observations make me regroup and align some priorities! Just wanted to stop, breathe and make a note of it!

I have been so wrapped up in nothingness lately, I even missed this beautiful iris coming out of dirt, this spring! It took my breath away this afternoon, when I was watering my new bushes and it peeked its purple head from around the corner of the house. It stopped me in my tracks. And thus I knew: I must make time!

And so, with the birth of this elegant, beautiful flower,  the late spring begins, and hopefully, my (full) life re-starts … 

 May 2012

Going Home - a Live Blog

“The ache for home lives in all of us, the safe place where we can go as we are and not be questioned.” ( Maya Angelou )

Chronologically, this blog starts at the bottom - with the most recent updates at the top.
For pictures from this trip, please click here. 

April 22, 2012

Finally, home-home. In Utah, that is. The trip back was much longer than the trip there – over 24 hours by a lot. It felt like 100 hours all in all. In Amsterdam, we were delayed by over an hour because one passenger who was coming from Dublin had bought a bottle of Irish scotch in the Dublin Airport and Security would not allow the bottle to enter the plane for the US! This, I find very puzzling, as there are hundreds of stores selling liquids inside of all airports, and one figures that once you cleared security once in your trip, you are good to travel on whatever plane your itinerary entitles you to fly on and that whatever is sold in the airport is safe to fly with onboard. But that would only make sense, right?! While the passenger and the Security disputed the matter, we waited rather anxiously in the crammed “double decker” plane for over an hour.

Once in Chicago, all went well through passport control and customs, but we were once more delayed on our final flight – we waited on the plane after boarding, again, while they fixed a mechanical problem with the plane’s gas tank. I wondered – why boarding the entire flight and the luggage, if you they knew we might not be able to fly?! But then again, what makes sense in the airline business?!

When we finally arrived, delayed as it were, in Salt Lake, we found out that our luggage didn’t make it. We picked it up in Chicago and walked it through customs, but somewhere between the customs’ re-checking belt and our plane for Salt Lake, it was lost. Lovely!

All in all, not a terribly bad trip. No extra nights spent in airports, and no extra vouchers to “use on a later flight”. We made it home, exhausted and happy to wrap ourselves in the familiar once again.

                                                                                   ***

A few notes about Romania on this final entry. Back in 1989, when The Revolution broke out and communism was overturned, foreigners would say that Romanians had forgotten how to smile. Life was so hard and threatened during communism dictatorship that people found no reason to be happy. 23 years later, I have to say, Romanians can’t smile, still!

It is so heartbreaking to see a people so passionate, so eager to live and love and give, be so disappointed, so complacent, so hopeless and saddened. You can see it in their foods (rich and flavorful), in their conversations (always boisterous, lively, loud), in their giving up their own bedrooms to accommodate guests in the best place in the house, how much joie de vivre these people have! And yet everything around them is falling apart, literally and figuratively, plunging them into darkness. The flicker in their eyes almost all gone.

Eavesdropping on random conversations in the street all I heard was “there is no money”, “everything is too expensive”, “these thieves (meaning the government) are making us starve while they’re getting rich”, “I worked again for nothing this month”, “I am swimming in debt”. Every time I go back, I miss my folks, and I desperately want to give them, if I could, a better life. But they are so embittered about it all, they can’t believe a better life is possible. This saddens me.

I wish there is something, anything, I could do, at least for those I love desperately, who feel trapped in that Godforsaken country.

The streets are still broken. The blocks still crumbling. Traffic is still a mess – people paying no attention to rules, and parking on grass, sidewalks, randomly in the middle of an intersection, what have you.

People I know and love still have big hearts and are generous and hard working, but they have no hope.

Although Romania is no Afghanistan, nor Iraq or Israel (that is: there is no war going on and there is somewhat of a feeling of safety while walking about) the distrust and doubt in people’s eyes and attitudes is overwhelming. Everyone is suspicious. We could not take pictures in a public place like the mall, or an opera house or a church. We had our cameras sealed in plastic at a department store, because they would not believe us we didn’t buy them there, once we left the store. You don’t leave your camera, your phone or any other electronic in the park car, for fear the car will be broken into and your equipment stolen.

I loved being back, because it gave me two weeks of being with my family, whom I love and miss every day. If it were not for them, however, I doubt I would ever make this journey again. I had missed the foods and the smell in the air. The smell of spring and the sound of the cuckoos in the crisp morning.

Old friends I thought I had left there were cold, distant, or dodged our get-together entirely, with little to no apologies. Time and distance are definitely taking a toll. Despite the sadness in my heart, I know this is just human nature. Such is life.

It’s sad to come to the realization that the place that formed who I am, the place that schooled and educated me, the place where I grew into a young woman, that prepared me for life, has little to no reason to call me back. I recognize it, but it’s not me anymore. I don’t believe it ever was, really!

Romania is a place I connect with people. The US is a place that I connect with lifestyle. I take bits and pieces from both to make my own world. All in all, is just a matter of where my heart is, to feel “at home”. As long as I have my heart, I am home.

Taking this journey with my husband made a world of difference – there is no one who has their finger on my heart’s pulse like he does. I saw everything through my own eyes and he echoed what I was seeing, reinforcing my feelings, observations, validating my memories. It was an emotionally powerful journey, and if I were to do it again, I’d jump on that Salt Lake to Paris flight tomorrow! Plus, I am already missing my mom’s sarmale, so that would be an even stronger reason to do it.

It’s a good trip to make, sadness and all, to refocus and re-ground once more. It shakes you up to your core and wakes you up! Makes you grateful for what you do have and for having the guts to not look behind when you initially left.  No regrets for me. Only some for those I left behind.

For glimpses of Romania, as our cameras saw it, click here.


April 18, 2012

The back yard of the house I grew up in, in the Northern Carpathians (Bucovina)

Back home to the city. We have been in the mountains for the past two days, visiting friends and family. Everyone we saw was so happy to see us and so friendly and hospitable. We ate more than we should have, but everyone cooked lots for Easter (which lasts for 3 days here), so they were glad to share.

Heating our lunch on a wood stove



My favorite: smoked trout

Aa. got to meet the extended half of my family, and my goddaughter. The weather was not good. Just rain, and cold and fog. Not sure what pictures we have come up with, other than lots around the fire and around the plentiful tables!

It was nice to see everyone, and to get away from the bustle of the city. The mountains were fresh, as always, and quiet. No traffic noise and no stress there. Just peaceful!

We drove back today, through more rain, mud, and fog. Just nasty! We are back in Iasi, where Aa. is recovering from a nasty stomach bug! Yuck! I am proud of him for being healthy all this time, as he definitely is not used to the water nor to the very heavy foods here!

Now, we're on the last days of the visit and the clock is ticking to get our bags packed! Lots of people gave us lots of souvenirs, and such, and we bought a couple of things for some friends back home, and also Aa.'s family. We'll be packing for the next couple of days and saying more goodbyes, here in Iasi. Almost everything we are bringing over is very fragile, so we'll pack for a while trying make sure everything will get across in one piece.

Later in the week, we'll be home bound ... We have had a fantastic time, and I miss my folks already, but ... we both miss home, too, especially our shower and our own bed! Visiting is lovely, but having a home to get back to is the best!

A piece of history: when my relatives poured this (now crumbling) concrete patio, in 1988, they engraved the names of all the children who helped in the pouring. My name and my sister's name are included and still there today.

April 16, 2012

2 years ago today I married the most wonderful man alive. Thank you, babe, for two amazing years of happiness! I am forever grateful to you and forever in love!

Yesterday, it was Easter Sunday here. We had several friends of the family and several relatives stop by to have Easter lunch / brunch/ dinner with us. It was a typical Romanian party, that started at 1 PM and ended at 9 PM. We went through 20+ dishes, several types of drinks, coffee, dessert, and we ended everything with dancing. I am not sure what my very calm and laid back husband thought of it all, but at some point he said he feels like home. That's all I needed to hear!

Today, we're driving to see my relatives in the mountains. It's going to be amazing on so many levels - unique, picturesque, old-timey, confusing (for Aa.), refreshing, eye-opening, emotional (for me) - all in one. "The mountains" are this little village in the Northern part of Romania, where I spent most of my childhood holidays and vacations. Half of my heart is still buried there. I cannot wait to get on the road.

We will visit some monasteries on the way, and a couple of smaller cities. For the most part, we'll enjoy family, friends, their offerings and we'll be translating dirty stories about my sister and I growing up there to Aa.

The postings will probably stop till I get back, as the internet availability there is so very limited. Of course, if I am wrong and it's aplenty, I will post snippets of what's going on.

I'll catch everyone up on what's next when I get back.

A good new week to all!

April 14, 2012

A completely indoor day. Since tonight is Easter for us, we are on a race against time to finish cooking. My folks have been cooking for 3-4 days, and still had 10 more dishes or so finish up, and of course, to decorate the eggs.

Egg decorating is not just child's play here. It's serious, traditional business.

We mostly watched, although we helped some too, with the cleaning and cooking.

At midnight, we will go to the midnight service to welcome Easter. We will return home with burning candles to light candles up around the house. I missed this moment, this day, the most. So glad I am finally here and get to enjoy our traditions and faith.

Love to all who are reading here, in this beautiful day.

Easter eggs, Romanian and dad style ....

April 13, 2012

Writing from 'Casa Vanatorului' Restaurant in Iasi

We slept in today. We ate breakfast and then visited my university, over 150 years old. Aa. really liked that!

For those of you who went to this university and are reading this - did you know they are renovating the heck out of it ?! The old, beat-up wooden and metal desks are out, replaced with new, light weight, IKEA looking desks and the old, heavy, nasty chalk blackboards are being replaced with light weight white boards. And each amphitheater has its own thermostat, for temperature control. One step closer to the Western world.

We then walked to two historic parks, and we are now having lunch on an outdoor patio in the middle of one of the parks. It's a beautiful spring day with just enough chill in the air to not get us sweaty!

I am posting this from my iPhone, through the free wifi offered by the restaurant/ park.

Aa. at the 'Casa Vanatorului' patio restaurant, enjoying a draft.

April 12, 2012

A typical breakfast at my parents' house: home made smoked meats and fresh cheese. Now, ready for a new day!

****

We had lots of adventures today - went to mom's hospital, built in 1880's, which was a trip back in time; we walked all over town, in neighborhoods I grew up in and have not visited in 20+ years; we visited an old teacher of mine that brought me back to my school days and to a time when America was just a distant and not realistic dream.

But nothing beats the unusual more than what we came home to - this smoked pig tail that my mom is getting ready to put in the sarmale pot, for "extra flavor". Yum?! Not in this shape, at least!

April 10, 2012

It was a day of sightseeing and walking around town, today. We drove all over the place - went to visit a friend's new pet store, full of exotic fish and what not. Then, we went to one of many farmers' markets in town, and Aa. was amazed at how rich it was and how fresh everything smelled and tasted. The one downside of the trip was that in the meat market, we were yelled at to not take pictures. So we had to put the cameras away.

After that, we went to a supermarket, Carrefour, and we just walked about, and bought some bread and beer - you know, the "essentials". There, they took our cameras and sealed them in plastic, just so they'll know we did not steal them from the supermarket (which sold the same cameras we had). The freedom loving American in Aa. really felt violated on this one!

We walked about the neighborhoods I grew up in and we visited the high school I went to. It looks like time never went over anything. Everything still looks the same. Even the potholes in the roads are still in the same spots!

At the market - grains, meats, cheeses, veggies, eggs and herbs.

My only living grandma came to visit after that, and that was the highlight of my day! Such a good feeling to see her, maybe, even, for the last time! Such a gift.

We then helped dad with smoking the meats for Easter. Oh my! So much meat! So much smoke! So much flavor! That was another first for Aa. The very rudimentary smoker dad built himself along with tying the meats together and hanging them on wood sticks inside the barrel filled with smoke was some other kind of trip back in time!

Ready to go in the smoker for round 2 - or as dad says: 'This spells c-h-o-l-e-s-t-e-r-o-l'.

The rest of the day was spent waiting for the meats to cook and watching TV. Just another day in the family.

Yum. Aa. got to experience 'halva' for the first time. So good and absolutely un-find-able anywhere near where we leave.

April 9, 2012

I need to start by saying THANK YOU to all of you who wished me a "happy birthday". WOW! I had no idea I was so popular. And yes, I know, that for the most part, Facebook reminders help, but I am SO grateful that you all took the time to say something on my wall, and/ or give me a call/ email. Since I am in Romania, I got to speak with people that normally can't afford to dial an international number and call me - such a blessing to be able to talk to old friends and all my family everywhere, this time . THANK YOU.

We spent the day at home, and some family visited. We had cake and yes, I blew the candles in one breath. :-) For dinner, dad took us to this fancy restaurant and we had good, traditional Romanian food. The restaurant was at the top floor of a hotel that is in the downtown, in Union Square, one of the most central spots of Iasi - my home town. The view of the whole city was beautiful. We saw the city in the dusk, and then at night and it was just amazing. I showed Aa. my university, my university's library, my old block of flats, where I grew up, the church my sister got married in and the Metropolitan Cathedral - the most important church in our town. We saw all of these from the roof of this hotel, where we had dinner. It was magical!

Now, we came home and my parents - especially my dad - are trying to build the menu for all the meals for the whole week. Oh my God! We are both so full it's not even funny. We can't even think of food, much less of a whole menu. But everything in Romania revolves around food - it's the only way my family knows how to say "I love you".

We eat non stop here. And dad says all the time that we eat nothing and that we hate his food. NOT the case. We have been here for a little bit more than 24 hours and I feel like throwing up already - so uncomfortably full!

That's about all for today. It's been rainy and windy here, but starting tomorrow, the weather is becoming warmer and brighter, so hopefully we'll get out and see more of the city.

We'll keep you posted!

The big three - seven ...



View of Iasi from the Panoramic restaurant, on top of the Unirea (Union) Hotel, in downtown Iasi

April 8, 2012

Iasi - Romania.

We are home. Yes: the wine is sweeter, the tomatoes are juicier, the meat is smokier and the hugs warmer!

Paris was a nightmare. We had over an hour for a layover but we ended up with just barely a bathroom break! The bus that took us to the right terminal was 20 minutes late and then it took forever to drive us ALL around the whole airport to get to the right place. That left us with something like 15 minutes for bathroom and for Alina to buy a COOL watch I have wanted since my last trip through Paris, 3 years ago. Happy birthday to ME!

Bucharest was another nightmare - so hard to navigate. Not a huge airport but not so well marked!

After 30 minutes of delay due to bad weather and the most difficult landing of out lives, we are in Iasi. Hallelujah! The weather here is bitter - wind, rain, snow and temps of 30's! Bbrrrr!

My parents and aunt had a feast (literally) ready for us. About 10 appetizers and three main courses followed by dessert and chased down with scotch, tuica, and dad's own wines ( red and white ). We are so tired and so full we can't breathe. But so happy!!

It's 11 pm here, or 2 pm in Utah and that only means we have been up for 30 hours! Someone needs to turn in!

More on the following days!

Aa. and dad sharing dad's red wine - 2011 was a very good ' demi- sec ' wine year for Romania.

April 7, 2012

First day of the trip - last look at Mount Timpanogos and Utah Valley. En route to Salt Lake City airport and further on to Paris. Beautiful day here.

I am very nervous about our suitcases' weight - we are smack dab at the limit of 50 lbs on each one of them. Hoping for nice folks at the checkin line.

Good bye, Utah, for a bit!

***

Step one of being nervous is over: we had THE nicest man checking our bags. He knew lots about Romania and all the countries around it. Then, he didn't even blink when he read '51 lbs' on the monitor for one of our bags. Sooo grateful for nice people.

We're eating a California Pizza Kichen sandwich outside our gate. All ready for jumping over The Pond.

Mount Timpanogos as seen from I-15 in Utah County: bye-bye, home!

April 6, 2012

It’s that time again. After virtually exactly 3 years, I am headed home. So much has happened in these years: I found the love of my life, I married, I moved across America, I have a new and different and fun job, I have one more nephew. I have grown. And grown gray. And I am just as excited to go back as I was 3 years ago. As I ever am.

I don't have a twitter account and I won't open one. I am more of a keeper of words rather than just ... throwing them out there, into an ever changing medium. *shrug*. I will keep this blog updated with tidbits from this trip. It’s something I have never done before, outside of my trip across America. I will see if technology keeps up with me and if it helps with allowing me updating this blog from just about anywhere. I will post when I get a chance, in between visits with friends and family, and in between planes and car rides. I will use a variety of devices, I am sure, and will see how far an iPhone can really travel – literally and not so much. Sometimes, I won’t have time for more than just a picture, but I hope that it will still tell a tale.

We are leaving tomorrow evening from Salt Lake City, on a direct flight to Paris! This is the first time ever when I fly from my home city directly to Western Europe. So excited to cut that one “American layover” that always has tons of potential for delays, cancellations and what-not’s.

We then have a flight to Bucharest and another one to my home town of Iasi. We should be at my parents’ house sometimes around 12 PM MST on Sunday. All in all, around 18 hours. We will be 9 hours ahead, so if you’re reading from the US – sorry for the oddly timed updates.

That’s it from home.
“See” you all … on the road, or should I say, “in the air”.

Hope I’ll keep it interesting.

The Mirage City

We’re walking down a loud road, Harmon Ave, I believe, from our hotel, The Alexis Park, towards the downtown. The sidewalks are narrow and we keep dodging a couple of other people here and there, coming or going in the same general direction as ours. Apart from the traffic and the buses, the big city sounds and feels lonely.

It’s a crisp February morning, the desert wind whipping our cheeks and leaving us breathless. We can hardly hear ourselves think much less talk to each other from the noise of the traffic driving by – cars, delivery trucks, cabs, limos. A lot of limos.

We walk on a wide open street, maybe 6 or 8 lane wide, lined with tall palm trees and withered landscape, full of junk – McDonalds wrappers and empty beer bottles mostly. A drainage ditch. A “loading only” street. A couple of homeless people. And the city noise, whizzing by. You still retain a feeling of identity – you are a small soul trying to find your way into this big, open noise. You hear your heart distinctively asking you what is her new place in the world. You’re not sure where you are, how long till the destination, but you still talk to your inner self, and it is there. You’re taking it all in and try to find a place for you …

Once we finish our one and a half mile walk (or so my iPhone says) to Las Vegas Blvd we dive into a completely new world – polished high rises, all glass and steel, we almost fall backwards trying to look up to take them in. More traffic. And music. Lots and lots of super powerful, surround sound blasting speaker systems absolutely deafening. Sort of a Time Square gone Western style. Hundreds of pedestrians bump into you, jostling you left and right, front and back. Almost all of them are under dressed and carry a huge cocktail in their hands while walking, talking, laughing, shopping. Some, just a beer – the shy ones.

The first reaction is: this is complete and utter chaos! There is an almost immediate loss of who you are now. You no longer know anything about your soul and where it’s coming from, and where it’s going. You hardly remember why you set off on this journey at all. Right here, on The Boulevard, the sense of identity is immediately and irrefutably lost. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the crowdedness of the population floods your soul, your body, your mind, and they completely take over. Your only “worry” is where to look next?!

It’s like losing your foothold, but you’re carried away on a wave, so you feel eerily safe – and you let go. Temptations abound. Miles and miles of malls, entertainment halls, outdoor patios, restaurants, strip clubs, and oh, yes, casinos scream at you “come on in” at every corner. What in the world to do? What in the world to do first?!

Yes, we are in Las Vegas, NV. A city of many names and master of none. Before I got there, I had no idea why so many euphemisms and insults were attempted at defining this city in the desert, but once you go, you get it! It’s a city like I have never seen before. It has the feeling that it never sleeps. Whether it’s 8 AM or 1 AM, the music is pounding the streets and the crowds are walking back and forth in a disorganized walking pattern. You have the streets, but then you have the aerial walkways, above the streets, to “fluidize” the traffic – always too much. It also has the feeling that no one really works. It’s like vacation, 24-7. There are entertainment opportunities in every alley – everyone wants to amuse you, relax you, impress you, corrupt you and everyone loves your cash!

It’s all a freak show, contrived and promiscuous, to lure you in and get your wallet. They say everything is bigger in Texas, but I think everything is bigger in Vegas. The billboards are bigger than I have ever seen, the lights brighter, the music louder, prices higher.

As we walked the city for two and a half days, we had the feeling that we’re walking in a dream. A couple of resorts remind you of Italy, with Roman inspired architecture, marble statues, even a river and singing gondoliers (Caesars Palace and The Venetian). The “Eiffel Tower” and restaurants like “Mon Ami, Gabi!” and “Paris” make you believe you’re in France. Restaurants like Sushi Roku and Tao remind you of Hong Kong, maybe, or Japan. The displays celebrating the New Chinese Year reminded you of The Far East.

On one end of The Strip you’re in Europe – on the other you’re in New York, Hollywood or Disney , or even Egypt – when you find yourself staring at ‘The Statue of Liberty’, the impressive MGM resort with probably the hugest bronze statue I will ever see, or The Luxor, with its pyramid shaped hotel and Sphinx sitting quietly in front.

Everything is everything else but American, and definitely everything else but Western. It’s the biggest adult playground I have ever seen or imagined. I called it “Disney for Grownups”, because it’s that much adult fun and endless entertainment.

Everything in Vegas is “too much of”. Too many lights, too much noise, too much drinking, too much of too much.

Maybe, in a way, looking back, everything IS American: looking back to The Old Continent and incorporating it into the New World, the glitz and glamour of people who have reached so much affluence that they shamelessly flaunt it, and the all American made concept of entertainment brought to gargantuan proportions. Opulence. Exaggeration. Polish. Your dreams can come true. Even walking through Rome and Venice, right here, at home.

I was imagining it to be very cheesy – and it is, but it’s cheese brought to hallucinatory perfection. As much gaudiness as your pupils are forced to absorb, nothing seems out of place! You get it, although it’s preposterously decadent and you feel violated and dirty! But you strangely enjoy it. All the hard work back home, and the money, the trouble to travel so long and see this “creation” of human imagination – all is all worth it. You feel enlightened, although you know that it’s all for the strangest reasons of all.

OK! Enough of that. I hope you get it. What we did?! We walked the streets and took hundreds of pictures – of people, of places, of things that will live now in our minds and our albums. We ate the best pizza in a long time, in the heart of The Venetian at Trattoria Reggiano and the freshest sushi in a while, too, at Sushi Roku. Our hotel served the best crepes (sorry, dad!) I have ever had, stuffed with ricotta cheese and drenched in blueberry preserves. We also had the best cocktails we have savored in a while – as you would normally expect from a party town.

We took the Monorail, but it was less exciting than the one in Seattle. It was almost empty. I guess no one wants to be cooped up in a train when there is so much to see pedestrian-style. We visited the Titanic Exhibit, at The Luxor, and that was fascinating (sorry, no pictures allowed). It was extremely well done. The sounds and the pictures brought the mighty ship and its story to life. It was moving. The perfect condition of the objects they brought back from the wreckage was unbelievable. And not just china and jewelry, but journals and newspapers, and documents, too. Just astonishing.

We watched the water show at The Bellagio and again – that was incredibly “too much”, but incredibly well done, as well. Just a splendor of music, lights and water architecture – amazing when water can take shape. We spent some time in a night bar to sip cocktails made by real professionals and lounge on comfy, oversized couches, and of course we gambled. A little. I saw a gambling table where a poor victim (sorry, I judge) laid down 12 $100 bills for his bet. I thought I was going to be sick. They were real bills – I have never seen that much cash at once go away and show nothing for it. Nothing but thrill, that is.

You feel like a movie star no matter what you do in Vegas – disco music beats everywhere, and lots and lots of lights and polish. And lots of money, of course: the cars, the cash, the outfits on some folks, the prices of everything. Everyone is more than willing to make sure you have the best time. Price is just a number – you made it this far, you might as well give in and enjoy it.

We took way too many pictures of posters and billboards announcing concerts, but we didn’t make it to a show – Elton John, Celine Dion, David Copperfield, and way too many look-alike shows, presenting “Michael Jackson”, “Elvis Pressley” and even “The Beatles”. What is Vegas without its illusion, right?!

They kept telling me before going there, “go to Vegas and just get it out of your system”. But the truth is, for me, it’s not out of my system. I just felt like it just got into my system. There is something dangerously addictive about this city. Just like a sweet drug and enters your body slowly and makes you feel good, warm, cozy, free, special, carefree, wanted, adored, rich, on top of the world, … (insert your favorite drug high here) …, you know you’ll want to come here, again and again. Maybe not admit it. Maybe keep it hidden from your family and friends, but looking forward to every single sinful drop of pleasure you get out of it. After all, don't we all need some decadence in our lives?!

It’s a mirage of a city! After driving in the open desert for hours, with nothing but brush and cacti lining the road, with no sign of human existence for miles, you arrive at this citadel of steel and glass, bustling, throbbing of people, of life, of money, of sin, and pleasure, with bountiful water fountains and even a river running through it. It really makes you wonder whether it’s real at all or you just slipped and hurt your head and ended up in Wonderland. And in a way, I am sure you did.

Las Vegas - in one image: palm trees, sunny skies, circus, farce, music, gold, lights, gamble - click on the picture to enjoy more ...

Such a Gift

Happy birthday, Gabi!

If my memory is not totally cheating me, it was the spring of 1996. He was 17. I walked in our room, and my sister, then 18, introduced me to “her boyfriend”. As any good, overprotective older sister, I was always dubious of my baby sister’s choices. This was no exception.

He was as skinny as a rail, very tall (his skinny-ness made him even taller), with long, silky hair draping over his broad shoulders. He had an overly confident look about him, and despite his young age he seemed very, very serious – like he had already deciphered the mystery of life and he was not about to share the secret.

I told my sister almost immediately that she should dump him! I didn’t approve.

As a good younger sister, she, of course, rebelled against everything that older folks would try to advise her. This was no exception. And the rest of the story, is history – pretty much.

I watched Gabi grow up with my sister. They were high school sweethearts, as you might call them. They did everything together. He spent the nights at our house, and when my parents moved and remodeled, she spent the nights at his parents’ house. We spent holidays, and summer vacations and birthdays together. He was always there. Since they met, it was always “the two of them” in any function both of our families had.

After 4 years of dating, in 2000, they married. Then, they made together the long and painful journey of becoming Canadian citizens. They moved in North America in 2004. They had their first baby boy in 2008, and the second in 2011. Slowly, and quietly, Gabi become my family. Now, I cannot imagine our lives without him.

My relationship with him was not always easy. We are both stubborn and very, very strong personalities. Foolishly, I tried to correct him in everything he did, because I was older, and I thought, well, wiser, too. He steadfastly went about being who he was, bluntly showing me that he won’t change just because I could not “deal with it”. We both sulked. And then made up.

Not until recent years did I realize that we’re not agreeable to each other because we are way too much alike. My sister, in her infinite wisdom and love, discovered that. And she was right.

Also, not until recent years, did I realize what a gift he is to the world, and to our family. How his love and honesty has kept my sister together in her darkest, toughest moments, when I could not be there for her anymore. How his maturity and presence, but mostly his unbounded love, has helped her through. He is one of the most generous people I know. He gives everything to those that he loves– his time, his cash, his attention and if you’re smart enough to take it, his advice.

Romania, 2007

Other than mundane things, like music, technology and health tips, he has also taught me acceptance, respect and patience. For these, I will cherish him forever.

He is still serious. And stubborn. But I love his sense of giving and his loyalty to what he believes in. I love his incredible love for his family and for his children.

Today, I am ever so grateful that he has happened to us! Looking back at that spring 1996 day, I realize that I am not always right, that I cannot demand people to be what I consider “perfect”, and that it takes time to learn and respect and love someone. And I am so glad that my sister doesn't always listen to me!

Thank you, Gabi, for being patient with me over the years! Thank you for helping me grow up. Thank you for all the memories you have given me and my family – trips, holiday dinners, teaching me about class, style and staying hip. Thank you for encouraging me, when I was down. Mostly, thank you for being there, for the three of them! You are a gift.

Much love,

Your ever-so-stubbornly sister-in-law who loves you much.

One Year. One Life

No one knows how long we live. We only know that we are here now. For all of us, here, now, however much we have lived so far has to be … our lifetime. It’s all relative, for each of us, of course.

My baby nephew, my baby sister’s little one, is one today. So far, this is his lifetime. A lifetime of being born, growing up and learning everything, every single second of every waking minute. There is nothing that fills me more with unbridled love than thinking of and seeing my nephews! They are so fresh, so pure, so full of life, they leave me breathless.

Just like his brother, the story of his birth is not an easy one to tell. Like any mother will tell you, every baby has their story, never easy, never painless, but always blessed! The story of his life, no doubt, will be more thrilling than that of his birth ever was. The journey has barely started.

He is one of the most precocious kids I have ever seen. Trying to always keep up with his older brother, he’s already saying words and walking by himself. His favorite toys (when they are not the ones he fights over with his brother) are fresh veggies in the bottom drawer of the fridge. He has a determination and a will hard to fathom for a body so small.

Although he doesn’t remember his life so far, us, around him, remember every moment of it. We thank him for every second he has given us, every piece of wisdom, every wonder, and most especially, every smile. Every inimitable and bright smile with which he has showered our lives in the past 365 days.

Even in his short one year life, he has given the world much needed light, and my family a feeling of completeness. We are forever grateful. I have only one regret – that of too short a time that we spend together.

Happy birthday, Happy Little Man! May you always be blissful. May you always be loved. May the world never spoil the beauty of your being and the clarity of your eyes. Thank you for all you have given us already. We can only hope we won’t disappoint.

Many hugs.

I am speechless in a moment of such loving celebration, and I believe no words I could possibly scramble for could do this big day justice. But my sister has put together this priceless movie of his first year of life, and, as always, pictures speak so much louder than words. So, I let her slideshow roll.

Enjoy, everyone:

Click here to watch his birthday video ...

Food so Good (and Much) It’s Stupid

The gist of this entry ...

Why I do it, it’s beyond me! I have done it, probably since I was a kid, and I still learn no better as I grow older. I think, to some degree, the majority of us do it. We all eat at least one meal a year that we just let abuse us! We can’t and won’t and should stop eating it! Just one more mouthful, we say. Just one. After another. And yet another. Against our better judgments and our feeling of misery as we eat more …

Yesterday, I was craving “exotic” food. That, for me, means anything that I have not had in a long while, or anything that is not meat and potatoes. It means anything that has some foreign flavors (usually Asian). I was also craving lots and lots of it. So much, in fact, till my stomach would just expand! Don’t ask me why I was in such a destructive mood – I just was.

So, after a crappy week (yeah, I know – this was the cause of the mood, right?! - maybe), we headed to where else but the capital of all gourmand-ry of the world - the Japanese steakhouse. You know, one of those places where “they cook in front of you” and they feed you till you throw up. Literally.

The meals are overpriced, but the dishes keep coming, so how can you complain?! They come with a salad, and a soup, and rice and meats of your choice and veggies, and … after three changes of plates you feel how your pants are gonna explode and you’ll be left in public, butt naked and covered in chewed up rice and meat! And you loosen your belt and keep shoveling. Till you can hardly walk!

And it all is soooo tasty! All fresh, off the grill and hot, and how can you stop?! Why should you, right?! You’re paying your sh^tty week’s paycheck for it, after all? Eat up!

Some of the people around our table ordered “the house special” which included three meats, two appetizers and a dessert. We all needed stretchers after that, seriously! That is self-killing by eating!

I could hardly stand up after that. I drove home in pain, plopped myself on the couch, took a handful of Tums and felt like an idiot! Was the taste even worth feeling so miserable?! Who cares,when you have a craving! Will I stop half way before throwing up next time? Probably not.

Maybe this was just a practice run for the trip to Romania we have scheduled this year. Because eat-Tums-bathroom-repeat is what the 2 weeks in the motherland will be like.

I think the human body has an amazing ability to forget pain. So the stomach ache that ensued, the self loathe, the heavy feeling dragging me down, the sleepless night will be long forgotten by the time the next “let’s-eat-ourselves-silly-on-exotic-food” will strike again. I make no promises for the future. But right now, I am off to the treadmill, for a repentance run and an apology to my hips!

Small Lives. Big Lessons.

One of my best friends posted this on Facebook last week:

One of my students: "Teacher, what is the meaning of life?"
Me (quite puzzled) : " I don't really think life has any meaning..."
The student: " Well, Siri from my I-Phone told me the same"
So this makes us two...

This reminded me that I have not asked myself this question in a really, really long time. Ever since John Lennon told me that “life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans”, I stopped making plans!

In the past couple of years, I have to say that I have just enjoyed what the moment brought, and I have mourned over what the moment took away. I virtually made no plans, and I sort of drifted. I just am, and pay attention. And that’s about how far it goes, lately.

In one of Al Pacino’s biographical books, he says that he got a lot more out of life when he stopped wishing for it. And I can say the same about my life lately! I put the comings and goings of every day happenings in someone else’s care, and I take what I am given as it comes. There is so much freedom in it. And so much peace. Took me about 34 years to get it, and I still try to steer, stubbornly, but I am learning to let go, and just float. And things have been rewarding, to say the least.

I have also piqued my ears more to what’s happening around me. I try to understand more of how my fellow humans spend their lives. I am learning so much from them, from just being mindful and attentive. And this is, to me, life, lately: just noticing how a day can be filled, by me or others, and learning about how to string 24 hours over and over and over again. Whatever fills every second of those hours, every day, cyclically, is what I have called life.

I noticed a conversation at the bookstore about a year ago and it stopped my day in the tracks, and made me so viscerally aware of the human beauty. I typically don’t think very highly of my species, in general. I talk a lot about the smallishness and pettiness of all around me – but there are rarely episodes that I notice that take my breath away in wonderment.

So, I was, as I have said, at the bookstore one day, and waiting for my turn in line to pay. The gentleman before me was Hispanic and in his, maybe, late 50’s. White hair and mustache and all, he approached the cashier, in broken English, and asked whether his books have come. She asked him the name. He said “Jesus” (you know, as in Spanish). She checked, and found them. Four books. She was starting to ring him up. He protested: “No, no! No money today! Payday tomorrow. Jesus (pointing to himself) come tomorrow and pick up books”. She smiled and, confused, said: “But, they are YOUR books. And they are right here. Today!”. He said: “Yes, my books”. (pointing to his chest). “But tomorrow. Pay day, tomorrow. Books today. Ok! Thank you. Please keep.” – and he left, waiving at her, and assuring her that he will be back “tomorrow”.

I smiled and knew what he was thinking: you see, in small cultures, we don’t believe in credit cards. He has no money today. He will have “real” money tomorrow and will come back for his books. He just wanted to make sure the shipment came in, as promised. There was no iota of Western instant gratification whatsoever in someone who probably didn’t “grow up this way”. I related to him, from an earlier stage of my life, when, I, too, didn’t believe in “plastic”. It was like coming home to see that, for me.

But things were going to get even more interesting. It was my turn. I approached the cashier who was still smiling. She said: “He is our best customer. He is SO polite. He always orders books online and picks them up here. He always orders two copies of each. One in English and one in Spanish. Same book – two languages. I guess that’s how he learns.”

I was breathless! In the world of Rosetta Stone, books on tape and computer software, people still buy books (you know: like in paper and ink!) and learn a new language from comparing the two – the old fashioned way. And at 50 something, when you’re old and gray, you still want to learn. You still wait, feverishly, for that paycheck at the end of the month, to buy, not food, not clothes on your back, but books, to learn. Flashbacks of “The Reader” went through my head. And of me, in college, when I’d rather spend my scholarship on books and cd’s than clothes and shoes.

I felt so humble. So small. And so grateful to witness this. In this world where everything seems so shallow and so ephemeral every day, there is something deeper than what my mind can fathom. I will remember this story, of learning, and waiting, and reading, and life for as long as I live.

Another day, I went to lunch by myself. Another gentleman, also older, was, again, in front of me. The hostess wanted to seat him, in the almost empty restaurant. She asked him (and his lady friend) to pick a spot, as they were many open. He confidently stepped in one of the dining rooms, and then stopped. He turned towards the hostess and said: “Oh, never mind. My table is taken.” – and pointed towards the table that, I guess, he always, occupies. The hostess said: “The one right next to it is open, Sir. Would you like that one?” He motioned his hands in denial: “No, no! We will wait”. And sat down in the waiting area, as the people at “his table” were JUST starting to order.

I thought: wow! In this ever rushed world, where we think emails are too slow anymore, there is someone that has nowhere to be, nowhere to rush to. He is content to just wait, for “his” table, at “his” usual diner. Flashbacks of “Something’s Gotta Give” went through my head this time. And I smiled, pleased to see that patience is not dead, after all.

Slices of life, like these, go before my eyes daily. And make me contemplate my own. And, more importantly, make me slow down and smell the books, and the coffee at some regular, small town, diner. I don’t have a regular table. Not even a regular restaurant. I am not learning a new language. But I bow my head to people who do, and keep this world alive, different, and deep. People who give this world, and life, in general, meaning.

The Hibernation

“There is a privacy about it which no other season gives you... In spring, summer and fall people sort of have an open season on each other; only in the winter, in the country, can you have longer, quiet stretches when you can savor belonging to yourself. ” ~Ruth Stout

It’s finally started. The hibernation, that is. There is pretty much a lot going on in our lives any other time during a year, but the time between New Year’s and say, the first true sign of spring, when we can eat on the back patio and start planting tomatoes is pretty much dead.

We plan no trips, we have no yard to tend to, there is not much to take pictures of, as everything is also sleeping, and our hands would freeze on the cameras, friends and family are staying put, and in their own dungeons – the weather, you see – and there is not much else we do inside the house either, once the Christmas decorations are tucked away, and the cards have made it to the memory box.

We’re not sports people, so the Super Bowl and Spring Training mean little to us. So, we close the door, tuck in, read and make lots of chili!

This is the time when the knitting needles come out, and the really thick books get read. The time when the Crockpot is finally coming out of the pantry. The time when Gypsy and I snuggle on our “magic blanket” made of fleece and fake fur, and we nap.

I watched the snow fall outside today, and it finally felt like winter! Like true winter, where there is no good reason in the world why you should stick your nose outside the front door! It was so peaceful, so quiet, so settled. You eat what you find in the pantry and freezer, and you are lazy. That’s that this is all about.

Right now, I am looking forward to it, with a mix of pleasure, peace and freakish anxiety at the thought that this might just last forever! By March, I am all but done and ready to come out of this state, but unfortunately, here, in Utah, it won’t let up till probably May. Sigh.

Till then, I have another fresh, warm biscuit to eat, and another Hallmark movie to see - so if you’ll excuse me.