Whenever I say 'good bye', for more or less "good", I always, for some reason, come back to these Tsvetaeva lyrics. I discovered them in college, and all with the exception of the cigarette smoke, seem to fit me: simple and deep. I hope people remember these about me, one day, amongst other things ...
"One day, pretty creature"
"One day, pretty creature,
I'll become a memory for you,
There, in your deep memory,
Lost -- so far far away.
You'll forget my hook nosed profile,
And my forehead in the tempest of a cigarette,
And my eternal laughter, annoying you, --
And on my working hand, a hundred
silver rings, -- an attic-cabin,
Of my heavenly confusion of papers
Frightening year, reasoned by the sorrow,
You -- were small, I -- was young."
Monday, October 16, 2006
Maia
I never knew what it feels like to have a piece of your flesh, of your heart ripped right out of your being and taken away until Maia died, one grim April morning! I thought the world stopped, and I just suffered a lobotomy, since I would never, ever be the same without her! I was so maimed!
Maia is my mom’s mother. I say “is” because she will always be here! Always, she is just a step away from me. I ask her for advice, I talk to her, I kiss her good night, and I ask for her advice and help almost every day of my life. She’s here when I fall asleep, she’s here when I go in for surgery, she’s there when I fly, and when I have “milestone” moments in my life!
I talked to her, in real life, last on my 29th birthday! I was in New Orleans, and she was on my cell phone, crying up a storm, and telling me I was the love of her life, along with my sister, and why did we leave her. She died 5 days later, without another word!
She passed away as dignified as she lived! She never lost her physical might, and never her mind’s power! She was strong and nothing could subdue her! Not the loss of a husband, not the abuse of a second one (God rest his soul in peace), not the lack of money and food, not the Communists, not the loss of her health and her independence. She was standing up straight until the next minute of her life! She was plagued by osteoporosis and polio arthritis, and also from heart congestion and heart failure, and yet, right before mom took her into the hospital, she said she will give herself a bath! She didn’t allow mom or anyone else to help. It was her job, to go to the doc “clean” and she managed to take care of that! She got ready for the hospital, and determined as she always was, she said “this is the last time I see this house with these eyes” – and it was. She died several hours later. Her big heart stopped and the doctor broked her sternum trying to revive her, with no luck! She passed in a fraction of a moment. It was the biggest gift God could have given her and us: a quick death! – if there is such a gift!
She was my heart! She was my love! She was my rock. She raised me, she said, since I was 3 days old, till I went to High School! I was a college baby – mom and dad were still in college; so Maia raised me! She took me to work, she fell asleep rocking me, she changed me, and fed me, she watched my first steps, and she taught me everything I know today, in my daily routine: how to brush my teeth, how to fold my clean clothes, how to clean my house, how to cook, how to be grateful to others who help me, how to say “thank you”, how to be humble, how to be proud and stand for what I believe in, how to fight for what’s mine; she taught me the importance of school, and of continuous learning, of bettering yourself, no matter how old you are; she taught me how to be a “lady”: how to look clean, and elegant, even when I am having a bad day! She taught me how to match clothes, and shoes to clothes; how to never go to a wedding without nails done, or hair done properly!
She taught me how to listen for God: “when its thundering, God is walking madly through Heaven. Listen!”. She took me to my first communion! And my first funeral …
She always, always taught by example: she always helped the less fortunate, and she always said good people are here to be used by all – because they’re good! She taught me how to work hard and never, ever to say no to any kind of work, because work is not demeaning; only laziness! People tell me I have her eyes, and her hair, and her lips – and I can’t think of a greater compliment!
One day, when I was in 3rd or 2nd grade, I looked at her fingers, and I saw her biggest ring, and I asked her if I could have it. She said: “sure. When I die, it’ll be yours”. I wear it today and she is right here with me. I never thought that moment would be this soon! I would give that ring back, and the 2 years of my life since she’s been gone, to have her here with me, to hold her tightly one more time, and tell her just how much I love her and how much she means to me. But I am not that lucky. And she also taught me that you cannot be against God’s will, which overrides all wishes!
What do you give someone who is your whole life on their birthday?! When they give you SO MUCH? How can you ever say “you’re loved” or “ thank you?! How do you ever repay?! Somehow, I know that she would not expect anything in return, and even if she did, it would not be much! Because she was happy to just be and to see us happy. One thing I know for sure, though: she would not have liked me crying on her birthday, or being sad, probably, but then again, as much as I loved her, I didn’t always listen!
Happy birthday, Maia, and know, always, that you are loved!
Romanian version/ Versiunea in romaneste:
Nu am stiut ce inseamna sa ti se smulga o bucata de carne din tine, sau o bucata de inima, pana cand a murit Maia, intr-o zi trista de aprilie. Atunci am crezut ca intreaga omenire s-a oprit complet, iar eu am suferit o lobotomie, pentru ca ma simteam total transformata! Mutilata complet!
Maia a bunica mea de pe mama. Spun ca “e”, pentru ca e mereu cu mine inca! Dintotdeana, si mai ales de cand a murit, e mereu cu mine, in fiecare clipa. Ii cer mereu sfaturi, o sarut de noapte buna, ii cer mereu ajutorul in fiecare clipa din viata mea. E aici cu mine cand adorm, in fiecare seara, cand intru la vreo operatie, cand decolez cu fiecare avion, sau cand intampin un moment de cumpana!
In viata “reala”, am vorbit cu ea ultima data de ziua mea, cand am implinit 29 de ani! Eu eram la New Orleans, si ea imi vorbea la celular, plangand in hohote si spunandu-mi ca eu si sora mea am fost dragostea vietii ei, si de ce am parasit-o! Apoi a inchis ochii pe veci, dupa 5 zile de la acea convorbire, si nu am mai auzit un cuvant de la ea.
A murit la fel de demn cum a trait! Niciodata nu si-a pierdut demnitatea fizica, si niciodata nu si-a pierdut acuitatea mintala! A fost o femeie puternica, si nu s-a lasat supusa de orice alta greautate din viata ei! Nici de pierderea unui sot, nici de abuzul celui de al doilea (Dumnezeu sa ii odihneasca in pace!), nici de lipsa de bani, nici de abuzurile comunistilor, nici de pierderea sanatatii proprii, sau a proprii independente. A stat dreapta, si mandra, pana in ultima clipa! A fost doborata aproape de tot de osteoporoza, si de poliartrita, si apoi de boala de inima, si in ciuda a tuturor acestor boli, in ultima clipa, chiar inainte de a pleca la spital, i-a zis mamei ca trebuie sa se spele “singura”. Trebuia sa fie “curata” inainte de a fi vazuta de un doctor. Si s-a spalat singura, demna cum a fost mereu! Hotarata cum a fost mereu, a spus inainte de a pleca din casa, ca atunci era “ultima data cand se uita la casa aceea, cu ochii aceia” – si asa a fost! A plecat la spital, si a murit cu cateva ore mai tarziu! Inima ei mare s-a oprit brusc, iar doctorul i-a rupt sternul incercand sa o reinvie, dar fara succes! A murit repede, si asta a fost darul ei de la Dumnezeu, daca exista asa un dar, de a muri repede!
Era inima mea intreaga! Dragostea mea de o viata! Era piatra mea de referinta, Gibraltarul meu! Spunea mereu ca m-a crescut de cand aveam 3 zile! Si m-a crescut pana am ajuns la liceu! Ma lua la servici cu ea; adormea cu mine in brate cand eram mica; ma schimba de scutece; mi-a supravegheat primii pasi, si m-a invatat tot ce stiu pana in ziua de azi, toata rutina mea de zi cu zi: cand si cum sa ma spal pe dinti, cum sa imi asez hainele si sa le pastrez; cum sa fac curat; cum sa gatesc, cum sa fiu recunoscatoare celor care ma ajuta; m-a invatat sa spun “multumesc”; m-a invatat cum sa fiu umila si modesta! M-a invatat, de asemenea, cum sa fiu mandra, si sa imi spun mereu punctul de vedere, si si sa vorbesc mereu raspicat daca am ceva de spus! M-a invatat sa lupt pentru dreptul meu si sa nu dau inapoi. M-a invatat mereu importanta educatiei si a invataturii! M-a invatat sa fiu “doamna” si sa am grija de mine, ca femeie; m-a invatat ca nu se merge niciodata la o ocazie cu unghiile nefacute sau cu parul necoafat!
M-a invatat sa Il acult pe Dumnezeu: “cand tuna, il auzi pe Dumnezeu mergand furios in Ceruri”. M-a dus la prima impartasanie, si la prima inmormantare.
Mereu ne-a invatat prin exemplul ei: era mereu buna cu cei neajutorati; si mereu ne spunea ca oamenii buni sunt mereu folositi de cei nevoiasi pentru ca de aceea sunt “oameni buni”! M-a invatat cum sa muncesc mult si neobosit, si ca munca nu e josnica, oricat de jos ar fi! Numai lenea e josnica!
Cateodata lumea zice ca seman cu ea, ca am parul ei, sau ochii sau buzele ei, si e cel mai frumos compliment pe care mi-l poate da cineva!!!
Mi-aduc aminte ca eram in clasa a doua sau a treia si ma uitam la mainile ei, si la inelul ei cel mai mare, si i-am zis ca il vreau eu; iar ea mi-a spus ca mi-l da mie cand moare! Azi am acel inel, si l-as da inapoi, si as da inapoi si cei doi ani din viata mea, cei doi ani de cand ea a plecat, as da totul inapoi, ca sa o mai vad doar odata, si sa ii spun cat mi-e de draga si cand de dor mi-e de ea! Sa o strang la piept si sa ii spun cat o iubesc! Dar nu am norocul asta! Si tot ea m-a invatat ca dorinta Domnului e mai presus de toate.
Ce poti sa dai cadou cuiva care iti este intreaga viata de ziua ei?! Cand ea ti-a dat atat de multe daruri, ce poti sa ii dai inapoi?! Cum poti sa ii spui “multumesc” cand ea ti-a dat toata viata ei?! Stiu, in sufletul meu, ca ea nu se asteapta la daruri prea mari din partea mea! Ea a fost mereu fericita doar sa ne stie pe noi fericiti! Si asta ar fi fost un cadou suficient! Stiu un lucru sigur: ca nu ar fi vrut sa ne vada plangand de ziua ei! Sau sa ne vada triste… dar asa cum am facut-o de multe ori, nu am ascultat-o intotdeauna! Si asa ca azi sunt trista!...
La multi ani, Maia, si stii ca mereu te vom iubi! …
Maia is my mom’s mother. I say “is” because she will always be here! Always, she is just a step away from me. I ask her for advice, I talk to her, I kiss her good night, and I ask for her advice and help almost every day of my life. She’s here when I fall asleep, she’s here when I go in for surgery, she’s there when I fly, and when I have “milestone” moments in my life!
I talked to her, in real life, last on my 29th birthday! I was in New Orleans, and she was on my cell phone, crying up a storm, and telling me I was the love of her life, along with my sister, and why did we leave her. She died 5 days later, without another word!
She passed away as dignified as she lived! She never lost her physical might, and never her mind’s power! She was strong and nothing could subdue her! Not the loss of a husband, not the abuse of a second one (God rest his soul in peace), not the lack of money and food, not the Communists, not the loss of her health and her independence. She was standing up straight until the next minute of her life! She was plagued by osteoporosis and polio arthritis, and also from heart congestion and heart failure, and yet, right before mom took her into the hospital, she said she will give herself a bath! She didn’t allow mom or anyone else to help. It was her job, to go to the doc “clean” and she managed to take care of that! She got ready for the hospital, and determined as she always was, she said “this is the last time I see this house with these eyes” – and it was. She died several hours later. Her big heart stopped and the doctor broked her sternum trying to revive her, with no luck! She passed in a fraction of a moment. It was the biggest gift God could have given her and us: a quick death! – if there is such a gift!
She was my heart! She was my love! She was my rock. She raised me, she said, since I was 3 days old, till I went to High School! I was a college baby – mom and dad were still in college; so Maia raised me! She took me to work, she fell asleep rocking me, she changed me, and fed me, she watched my first steps, and she taught me everything I know today, in my daily routine: how to brush my teeth, how to fold my clean clothes, how to clean my house, how to cook, how to be grateful to others who help me, how to say “thank you”, how to be humble, how to be proud and stand for what I believe in, how to fight for what’s mine; she taught me the importance of school, and of continuous learning, of bettering yourself, no matter how old you are; she taught me how to be a “lady”: how to look clean, and elegant, even when I am having a bad day! She taught me how to match clothes, and shoes to clothes; how to never go to a wedding without nails done, or hair done properly!
She taught me how to listen for God: “when its thundering, God is walking madly through Heaven. Listen!”. She took me to my first communion! And my first funeral …
She always, always taught by example: she always helped the less fortunate, and she always said good people are here to be used by all – because they’re good! She taught me how to work hard and never, ever to say no to any kind of work, because work is not demeaning; only laziness! People tell me I have her eyes, and her hair, and her lips – and I can’t think of a greater compliment!
One day, when I was in 3rd or 2nd grade, I looked at her fingers, and I saw her biggest ring, and I asked her if I could have it. She said: “sure. When I die, it’ll be yours”. I wear it today and she is right here with me. I never thought that moment would be this soon! I would give that ring back, and the 2 years of my life since she’s been gone, to have her here with me, to hold her tightly one more time, and tell her just how much I love her and how much she means to me. But I am not that lucky. And she also taught me that you cannot be against God’s will, which overrides all wishes!
What do you give someone who is your whole life on their birthday?! When they give you SO MUCH? How can you ever say “you’re loved” or “ thank you?! How do you ever repay?! Somehow, I know that she would not expect anything in return, and even if she did, it would not be much! Because she was happy to just be and to see us happy. One thing I know for sure, though: she would not have liked me crying on her birthday, or being sad, probably, but then again, as much as I loved her, I didn’t always listen!
Happy birthday, Maia, and know, always, that you are loved!
Romanian version/ Versiunea in romaneste:
Nu am stiut ce inseamna sa ti se smulga o bucata de carne din tine, sau o bucata de inima, pana cand a murit Maia, intr-o zi trista de aprilie. Atunci am crezut ca intreaga omenire s-a oprit complet, iar eu am suferit o lobotomie, pentru ca ma simteam total transformata! Mutilata complet!
Maia a bunica mea de pe mama. Spun ca “e”, pentru ca e mereu cu mine inca! Dintotdeana, si mai ales de cand a murit, e mereu cu mine, in fiecare clipa. Ii cer mereu sfaturi, o sarut de noapte buna, ii cer mereu ajutorul in fiecare clipa din viata mea. E aici cu mine cand adorm, in fiecare seara, cand intru la vreo operatie, cand decolez cu fiecare avion, sau cand intampin un moment de cumpana!
In viata “reala”, am vorbit cu ea ultima data de ziua mea, cand am implinit 29 de ani! Eu eram la New Orleans, si ea imi vorbea la celular, plangand in hohote si spunandu-mi ca eu si sora mea am fost dragostea vietii ei, si de ce am parasit-o! Apoi a inchis ochii pe veci, dupa 5 zile de la acea convorbire, si nu am mai auzit un cuvant de la ea.
A murit la fel de demn cum a trait! Niciodata nu si-a pierdut demnitatea fizica, si niciodata nu si-a pierdut acuitatea mintala! A fost o femeie puternica, si nu s-a lasat supusa de orice alta greautate din viata ei! Nici de pierderea unui sot, nici de abuzul celui de al doilea (Dumnezeu sa ii odihneasca in pace!), nici de lipsa de bani, nici de abuzurile comunistilor, nici de pierderea sanatatii proprii, sau a proprii independente. A stat dreapta, si mandra, pana in ultima clipa! A fost doborata aproape de tot de osteoporoza, si de poliartrita, si apoi de boala de inima, si in ciuda a tuturor acestor boli, in ultima clipa, chiar inainte de a pleca la spital, i-a zis mamei ca trebuie sa se spele “singura”. Trebuia sa fie “curata” inainte de a fi vazuta de un doctor. Si s-a spalat singura, demna cum a fost mereu! Hotarata cum a fost mereu, a spus inainte de a pleca din casa, ca atunci era “ultima data cand se uita la casa aceea, cu ochii aceia” – si asa a fost! A plecat la spital, si a murit cu cateva ore mai tarziu! Inima ei mare s-a oprit brusc, iar doctorul i-a rupt sternul incercand sa o reinvie, dar fara succes! A murit repede, si asta a fost darul ei de la Dumnezeu, daca exista asa un dar, de a muri repede!
Era inima mea intreaga! Dragostea mea de o viata! Era piatra mea de referinta, Gibraltarul meu! Spunea mereu ca m-a crescut de cand aveam 3 zile! Si m-a crescut pana am ajuns la liceu! Ma lua la servici cu ea; adormea cu mine in brate cand eram mica; ma schimba de scutece; mi-a supravegheat primii pasi, si m-a invatat tot ce stiu pana in ziua de azi, toata rutina mea de zi cu zi: cand si cum sa ma spal pe dinti, cum sa imi asez hainele si sa le pastrez; cum sa fac curat; cum sa gatesc, cum sa fiu recunoscatoare celor care ma ajuta; m-a invatat sa spun “multumesc”; m-a invatat cum sa fiu umila si modesta! M-a invatat, de asemenea, cum sa fiu mandra, si sa imi spun mereu punctul de vedere, si si sa vorbesc mereu raspicat daca am ceva de spus! M-a invatat sa lupt pentru dreptul meu si sa nu dau inapoi. M-a invatat mereu importanta educatiei si a invataturii! M-a invatat sa fiu “doamna” si sa am grija de mine, ca femeie; m-a invatat ca nu se merge niciodata la o ocazie cu unghiile nefacute sau cu parul necoafat!
M-a invatat sa Il acult pe Dumnezeu: “cand tuna, il auzi pe Dumnezeu mergand furios in Ceruri”. M-a dus la prima impartasanie, si la prima inmormantare.
Mereu ne-a invatat prin exemplul ei: era mereu buna cu cei neajutorati; si mereu ne spunea ca oamenii buni sunt mereu folositi de cei nevoiasi pentru ca de aceea sunt “oameni buni”! M-a invatat cum sa muncesc mult si neobosit, si ca munca nu e josnica, oricat de jos ar fi! Numai lenea e josnica!
Cateodata lumea zice ca seman cu ea, ca am parul ei, sau ochii sau buzele ei, si e cel mai frumos compliment pe care mi-l poate da cineva!!!
Mi-aduc aminte ca eram in clasa a doua sau a treia si ma uitam la mainile ei, si la inelul ei cel mai mare, si i-am zis ca il vreau eu; iar ea mi-a spus ca mi-l da mie cand moare! Azi am acel inel, si l-as da inapoi, si as da inapoi si cei doi ani din viata mea, cei doi ani de cand ea a plecat, as da totul inapoi, ca sa o mai vad doar odata, si sa ii spun cat mi-e de draga si cand de dor mi-e de ea! Sa o strang la piept si sa ii spun cat o iubesc! Dar nu am norocul asta! Si tot ea m-a invatat ca dorinta Domnului e mai presus de toate.
Ce poti sa dai cadou cuiva care iti este intreaga viata de ziua ei?! Cand ea ti-a dat atat de multe daruri, ce poti sa ii dai inapoi?! Cum poti sa ii spui “multumesc” cand ea ti-a dat toata viata ei?! Stiu, in sufletul meu, ca ea nu se asteapta la daruri prea mari din partea mea! Ea a fost mereu fericita doar sa ne stie pe noi fericiti! Si asta ar fi fost un cadou suficient! Stiu un lucru sigur: ca nu ar fi vrut sa ne vada plangand de ziua ei! Sau sa ne vada triste… dar asa cum am facut-o de multe ori, nu am ascultat-o intotdeauna! Si asa ca azi sunt trista!...
La multi ani, Maia, si stii ca mereu te vom iubi! …
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Things are always bigger in the US … or Canada…
When I first came to the US, and always thereafter, I have always heard from all over the world, that “things are always bigger in America”. Invariably, everyone outside of here, means the USA when they say America. And indeed, I found, as a girl coming from Eastern Europe, that things are indeed bigger, wider, and more … wide spread here, in the Land of the Free. All things, almost … until this fall I got the chance to visit Eastern Canada. And let me tell you: if one is really keeping score, and after living here in the US for close to 9 years now, not ALL things are indeed bigger in the USA: SOME things are “bigger” in Canada, rather. Here are some of those things that I came across with:
- beer containers for sure, are bigger in Canada: I was able to order a meter of beer only in Quebec City and Montreal, not NYC or Atlanta; bring on your guts people (beer guts, that is), and make room for the bathroom line; one restaurant had these chemistry-lab looking glass containers almost a yard tall, for beer, and they told us that’s all they have to serve beer in (see photo); it’s either that, or water! It’s pretty interesting when you get to drink out of a “glass” the size of your 6 foot tall brother in law’s torso when you’re barely 5 foot tall; quite an undertaking.
- Waterfalls are gigantic in Canada. I have always thought you have to fly out West, to the Rockies, or at least to Niagara, of course, to see truly spectacular waterfalls in the US; the East Cost, I thought, doesn’t provide mountains with the necessary altitude to make the waterfalls spectacular, but not true: drive up to Quebec City – somewhat on the East coast, right?! Just drive up to Canyon Ste. Anne and Montmorency Chute, and you will feel just like an ant in the face of nature. Montmorency falls are the tallest dump of water in North America, taller than Niagara itself, although not bigger in volume of water; just in height: 80 meters. I have always loved the North Carolina mountain waterfalls, but your breath never stops until you climb down and then up in the Canyon Ste. Anne, and stare at the falls. It’s where Thoreau found home, and quite a spectacle.
- I know you’ll laugh, but squirrels are the size of huge, fat, rabbits in Canada! They’re fat, and they fall outta trees with a “plump” noise. I was almost scared of them! They really look like a wild, dangerous creature, not like the cuddly little cute rodent we’re used to, here in the South at least! They’re fat things! Maybe they have more fat for the long, cold winter, who knows?!
- Butter sticks: butter eaters of the South need to move to Montreal! Man, the Canadian butter “sticks” look like a PACK of butter sticks here, and twice the height! The butter savers - things are made the same way, of course: they take up as much room in the fridge as a carton of 6 eggs! Yes, they do call it a “butter stick”, and not a “package” or a “lump”. I thought shampoo bottles are huge in America, compared to Europe, until I saw the butter “sticks” in Canada: you have it for a safe 3-4 months, if you asked me: how does that not go spoiled?! Apparently not!
- And one last thing: prices! Ok, maybe they’re not bigger there than all over the US, maybe just bigger than the South, but the cheapest pint of domestic beer starts at C$5.40?! And yes, it’s a pint, which means it’s draft, which means, it’s half water anyways… And yes, it’s C$5.40, and you’re thinking “Canadian dollars are much smaller than US dollars”, but not the case: for whatever the reason (politics is not the point of this blog), the conversion rate right now is C$1.08 to $1.00 – so, you see… not a huge difference there at all! And since we’re on the topic: Quebec taxes are enormous! Think a 7% tax rate on your food and drinks is huge?! Maybe a 7.5% is immoral?! Try 14%, since you pretty much have to pay the same tax (7%) for Quebec as you pay for Canada…But then again, who do you think pays for all that “free” healthcare?!
And one more last (sad) note: yes, Americans still do amaze me as the “largest humans” on Earth! In that respect, Quebec looks like a London, or any other European capital: a GQ or Vogue poster can be shot in Montreal any day of the week! I was really trying to find at least a resemblance to “America” in this respect, but … no luck!
For pictures, copy and paste in browser: http://new.photos.yahoo.com/alinaservici/album/576460762312956738
- beer containers for sure, are bigger in Canada: I was able to order a meter of beer only in Quebec City and Montreal, not NYC or Atlanta; bring on your guts people (beer guts, that is), and make room for the bathroom line; one restaurant had these chemistry-lab looking glass containers almost a yard tall, for beer, and they told us that’s all they have to serve beer in (see photo); it’s either that, or water! It’s pretty interesting when you get to drink out of a “glass” the size of your 6 foot tall brother in law’s torso when you’re barely 5 foot tall; quite an undertaking.
- Waterfalls are gigantic in Canada. I have always thought you have to fly out West, to the Rockies, or at least to Niagara, of course, to see truly spectacular waterfalls in the US; the East Cost, I thought, doesn’t provide mountains with the necessary altitude to make the waterfalls spectacular, but not true: drive up to Quebec City – somewhat on the East coast, right?! Just drive up to Canyon Ste. Anne and Montmorency Chute, and you will feel just like an ant in the face of nature. Montmorency falls are the tallest dump of water in North America, taller than Niagara itself, although not bigger in volume of water; just in height: 80 meters. I have always loved the North Carolina mountain waterfalls, but your breath never stops until you climb down and then up in the Canyon Ste. Anne, and stare at the falls. It’s where Thoreau found home, and quite a spectacle.
- I know you’ll laugh, but squirrels are the size of huge, fat, rabbits in Canada! They’re fat, and they fall outta trees with a “plump” noise. I was almost scared of them! They really look like a wild, dangerous creature, not like the cuddly little cute rodent we’re used to, here in the South at least! They’re fat things! Maybe they have more fat for the long, cold winter, who knows?!
- Butter sticks: butter eaters of the South need to move to Montreal! Man, the Canadian butter “sticks” look like a PACK of butter sticks here, and twice the height! The butter savers - things are made the same way, of course: they take up as much room in the fridge as a carton of 6 eggs! Yes, they do call it a “butter stick”, and not a “package” or a “lump”. I thought shampoo bottles are huge in America, compared to Europe, until I saw the butter “sticks” in Canada: you have it for a safe 3-4 months, if you asked me: how does that not go spoiled?! Apparently not!
- And one last thing: prices! Ok, maybe they’re not bigger there than all over the US, maybe just bigger than the South, but the cheapest pint of domestic beer starts at C$5.40?! And yes, it’s a pint, which means it’s draft, which means, it’s half water anyways… And yes, it’s C$5.40, and you’re thinking “Canadian dollars are much smaller than US dollars”, but not the case: for whatever the reason (politics is not the point of this blog), the conversion rate right now is C$1.08 to $1.00 – so, you see… not a huge difference there at all! And since we’re on the topic: Quebec taxes are enormous! Think a 7% tax rate on your food and drinks is huge?! Maybe a 7.5% is immoral?! Try 14%, since you pretty much have to pay the same tax (7%) for Quebec as you pay for Canada…But then again, who do you think pays for all that “free” healthcare?!
And one more last (sad) note: yes, Americans still do amaze me as the “largest humans” on Earth! In that respect, Quebec looks like a London, or any other European capital: a GQ or Vogue poster can be shot in Montreal any day of the week! I was really trying to find at least a resemblance to “America” in this respect, but … no luck!
For pictures, copy and paste in browser: http://new.photos.yahoo.com/alinaservici/album/576460762312956738
Thoughts about home – two worth mentioning (and reading) blogs
Yeah, yeah, yeah, …we have all seen the cheesy little hangings you can buy at the flea market that quote “home is where the heart is”, but for a wandering heart, home can be anywhere, really. To me home is where I was born and where my parents live now, and whether my heart is there this minute, or not … that’s where home stays. I like to keep my heart moving, you see: exercise is GREAT for people like me, with heart disease, so … it’s moving…
Lately, I have read a couple of notes about my “home” that I know all of you will find amusing, interesting and also, will enjoy reading to get a deeper glimpse into why I left, maybe?! You be the judge! They’re a fun read, so enjoy:
My sister sent me this disgruntled rant on Romania, and actually my home town is mentioned in it more than I care for… And both my sister and I were shocked at the accuracy. It’s a great read, too, not just a well documented one:
http://www.killingbatteries.com/?p=85
My wonderful friend (don’t leave me!!!), another American, who visited Romania a year or so ago, felt the urge to respond to the aforementioned rant and here’s his response:
http://www.silflayhraka.com/archives/2006/10/a_travel_writers_thoughts_on_r.html
Thanks, to both, for taking the time to put this sometimes Godforsaken place on the map again, and thanks for the smiles, and the reminders. It’s always such a fresh and eye-opening experience when you see yourself or what is familiar to you with strangers’ eyes! A real rush!
And a brief note: things mentioned in these blogs ARE accurate and they do not just “resemble” real circumstances and people, they “are” real circumstances and people. Take my word for it!
PS: you might have to copy and paste these blogs' links into your browser.
Lately, I have read a couple of notes about my “home” that I know all of you will find amusing, interesting and also, will enjoy reading to get a deeper glimpse into why I left, maybe?! You be the judge! They’re a fun read, so enjoy:
My sister sent me this disgruntled rant on Romania, and actually my home town is mentioned in it more than I care for… And both my sister and I were shocked at the accuracy. It’s a great read, too, not just a well documented one:
http://www.killingbatteries.com/?p=85
My wonderful friend (don’t leave me!!!), another American, who visited Romania a year or so ago, felt the urge to respond to the aforementioned rant and here’s his response:
http://www.silflayhraka.com/archives/2006/10/a_travel_writers_thoughts_on_r.html
Thanks, to both, for taking the time to put this sometimes Godforsaken place on the map again, and thanks for the smiles, and the reminders. It’s always such a fresh and eye-opening experience when you see yourself or what is familiar to you with strangers’ eyes! A real rush!
And a brief note: things mentioned in these blogs ARE accurate and they do not just “resemble” real circumstances and people, they “are” real circumstances and people. Take my word for it!
PS: you might have to copy and paste these blogs' links into your browser.
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Random thoughts
"… by the absence of grasping, one becomes free." (The Buddha)
I feel old in the fall. The red of the trees, at the tops, makes me think of newly graying temples. Just a hint of oldness, the premonition of what it is to come. Of death.
Do you feel your joints crack in the mornings now, from the cold air? I do. They’re rusty, in the crisp mornings. Like an un-oiled old gate in the wind.
Have you ever felt like coming home, and turning the lights down or off, and lighting candles all over the house instead? Playing soft music, and living by candle light? Like in a cave? Or a temple? Just to revive the past, the old days? Sometimes electricity is such a pain. Literally!
Today, I felt in a “Christmas” mood: I wanted all Christmas- scented candles around me: pine tree, and cinnamon and apple pie, and snow! And I am wearing a beach dress. What’s Christmas like at the Tropics? I have felt wintry today. Just like the aging trees.
Have you ever felt like there is “no way to hold your head that doesn’t hurt”? I understand Johnny Cash perfectly!
I always wonder about those folks that sit at the light, despite the fact that the green light prompts them to go. What are they waiting for? What are they deciding now? Are they confused? “Hm… Too many choices: I can go right, OR left, OR, maybe, straight. Too many choices!” – they must say to themselves. Just like at the grocery store in the cereal aisle!
Have you ever wanted to bottle up the feeling in your entire body, down your spine and in your legs after a great yoga practice?! Just to drink from it later, once in a while, maybe at the office, one day, when you feel overwhelmed and suicidal!
Have you ever missed your mom so much on her birthday that it hurt? It hurts in the heart! Inside, deep, deep, inside the hearrt! I can’t even reach in there to calm it! Have you? …
I feel old in the fall. The red of the trees, at the tops, makes me think of newly graying temples. Just a hint of oldness, the premonition of what it is to come. Of death.
Do you feel your joints crack in the mornings now, from the cold air? I do. They’re rusty, in the crisp mornings. Like an un-oiled old gate in the wind.
Have you ever felt like coming home, and turning the lights down or off, and lighting candles all over the house instead? Playing soft music, and living by candle light? Like in a cave? Or a temple? Just to revive the past, the old days? Sometimes electricity is such a pain. Literally!
Today, I felt in a “Christmas” mood: I wanted all Christmas- scented candles around me: pine tree, and cinnamon and apple pie, and snow! And I am wearing a beach dress. What’s Christmas like at the Tropics? I have felt wintry today. Just like the aging trees.
Have you ever felt like there is “no way to hold your head that doesn’t hurt”? I understand Johnny Cash perfectly!
I always wonder about those folks that sit at the light, despite the fact that the green light prompts them to go. What are they waiting for? What are they deciding now? Are they confused? “Hm… Too many choices: I can go right, OR left, OR, maybe, straight. Too many choices!” – they must say to themselves. Just like at the grocery store in the cereal aisle!
Have you ever wanted to bottle up the feeling in your entire body, down your spine and in your legs after a great yoga practice?! Just to drink from it later, once in a while, maybe at the office, one day, when you feel overwhelmed and suicidal!
Have you ever missed your mom so much on her birthday that it hurt? It hurts in the heart! Inside, deep, deep, inside the hearrt! I can’t even reach in there to calm it! Have you? …
Saturday, September 16, 2006
Pet peeves – continued
Parking in the fire lane pisses me off, anyhow! No matter how you put it, and what reason you’d invoke, it pisses me off to see people parked there when it spells clearly “NO PARKING”. It pisses me off just about as much as people getting INTO the grocery store through the Exit door, when others are trying to get out with cartloards of stuff! Just as much! But what makes me even more mad is morbidly obese people that park in the fire lane! You watch these people and they get out of their cars in chapters: one leg first, then one half of their butt second, hold on, they forgot about the head, they need to duck, slowly, then the other half of their butt, then slowly, so that they won’t tip over, the second leg – beyond slow motion! Well, when you do that, there is no reason, trust me, to be as un-thoughtful to hold up the entire traffic! When you get out of your car (or in), in chapters, you need to understand that something needs to be done about it: something like parking all the way at the end of the parking lot, and walking yourself to the store from there! After all, that might be your one and only chance to lose an ounce! Walk, people! You need it!
Ever since I moved to the States I hear people saying “Oh, I don’t like fish with heads” or “Oh, I don’t eat chicken with bones”… Hhmmm… Since when God made chicken with no bones, and fish with no heads, I wonder?! “Oh, I don’t like fish to stare at me when I eat it”… ?!? … How can something that is dead stare at you?! Not quite sure how that works! Since when did people become so picky, and unreasonable, I wonder! I guess that’s what higher living standards do to you?! And when you do find chicken walking around without bones in their bodies, and fish swimming with no heads, please call me…
Call me selfish, but...: I understand that we live in the world of mobility, and most of us gave up the land phone lines as they slowly become obsolete! We’re now relying solely on the cells, but not all of us. Some of us need land lines, and land lines come with long distance charges! So, I don’t understand why people move across country and they still keep their cell phones with a Michigan, Ohio, California, etc number?! You’ve been here for 2 years, you bought a house and married, you’re obviously settled, right?! Change it to a local number, please! – just so your “new” friends won’t have to pay long distance charges to talk to you across the highway, in the same zip code! I think it’s the least you can do for the people that befriended you, here, in your new world (and give you both a “home” number and a “cell” one)!
Ever since I moved to the States I hear people saying “Oh, I don’t like fish with heads” or “Oh, I don’t eat chicken with bones”… Hhmmm… Since when God made chicken with no bones, and fish with no heads, I wonder?! “Oh, I don’t like fish to stare at me when I eat it”… ?!? … How can something that is dead stare at you?! Not quite sure how that works! Since when did people become so picky, and unreasonable, I wonder! I guess that’s what higher living standards do to you?! And when you do find chicken walking around without bones in their bodies, and fish swimming with no heads, please call me…
Call me selfish, but...: I understand that we live in the world of mobility, and most of us gave up the land phone lines as they slowly become obsolete! We’re now relying solely on the cells, but not all of us. Some of us need land lines, and land lines come with long distance charges! So, I don’t understand why people move across country and they still keep their cell phones with a Michigan, Ohio, California, etc number?! You’ve been here for 2 years, you bought a house and married, you’re obviously settled, right?! Change it to a local number, please! – just so your “new” friends won’t have to pay long distance charges to talk to you across the highway, in the same zip code! I think it’s the least you can do for the people that befriended you, here, in your new world (and give you both a “home” number and a “cell” one)!
Tuesday, September 12, 2006
Addiction or Annoying Bad Habit?!
Do you suffer from the “pick-up-the-free-magazine-or-newspaper-on-the-way-out-of-the-grocery-store-and-never-read-it” disease?! Because I do! And it’s horrible! Every once in a while , maybe once a week (too often, anyways), I pick up whatever it’s new in the newspaper stand at the grocery store, WalMart, sometimes at a restaurant too… Triad Homes, Triad Living, Real Estate Book, whatever… It’s free… And I always think: what a perfect way to go home, eat a cozy dinner of mac’n’cheese and dream over all these houses I can’t buy and all these cars I can’t have or don’t even want, really… What better way?! Just “dream” the American way, since I can’t “have” it, every minute … And you never know: maybe you WILL find the dream house; you do have some extra cash, and the neighbor woke you up last night again in the middle of a party he’s having for the fourth day in a row, and the car kind of makes a funny noise, so maybe you WILL find a new car too; and there are always new neighborhoods going up in town – who knows; we always have to stay informed, keep up with the market! Right?!
Right: and the publications end up piled up on my dining room table, or in my car, for a while, until they move to the newspaper rack, only to be dumped when they’re sooo many I can’t fit them in there anymore, and I decide they’re outdated, anyhow, so … let’s trash them! Is that sinful waste or what?! What would have happened if they didn’t end up unread in my trash can, I wonder?! Would another person who is really looking for a house/ car have picked them up and found their dream house/car in there?! Will they have gone to the Magazine Heaven, when the store replaced them instead of my dumpster?! What?!
It drives me nuts, every morning, when my trash weighs 100 lbs because it’s loaded with unread Triad Homes (I have been living in this place for 5 years now, and I have brought these pubs at home roughly every month!). I think of the waste, and I think of my back being thrown out of alignment, but yet next time when I am picking up beer at the store you know what I’ll pick up on my way out! Sinful! Pure addiction! Or just a bad, bad habit, and we all know how easy and fast THEY die! *sigh*
Right: and the publications end up piled up on my dining room table, or in my car, for a while, until they move to the newspaper rack, only to be dumped when they’re sooo many I can’t fit them in there anymore, and I decide they’re outdated, anyhow, so … let’s trash them! Is that sinful waste or what?! What would have happened if they didn’t end up unread in my trash can, I wonder?! Would another person who is really looking for a house/ car have picked them up and found their dream house/car in there?! Will they have gone to the Magazine Heaven, when the store replaced them instead of my dumpster?! What?!
It drives me nuts, every morning, when my trash weighs 100 lbs because it’s loaded with unread Triad Homes (I have been living in this place for 5 years now, and I have brought these pubs at home roughly every month!). I think of the waste, and I think of my back being thrown out of alignment, but yet next time when I am picking up beer at the store you know what I’ll pick up on my way out! Sinful! Pure addiction! Or just a bad, bad habit, and we all know how easy and fast THEY die! *sigh*
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Stop and think for just one moment …
“The trouble is that you think you have time.” (Jack Kornfield)
Yes…that’s what I thought when I kept telling mom I will see Bubu (mom’s dad) soon, when I knew he was dying of cancer. And one day he went. Never got to say ‘good bye’. Never saw his deep blue-green eyes open again, much less give him a hug. I wear the first silver chain necklace he ever gave me almost every day. But I never said good bye. We lived 5 minutes from each other.
Same thing with Bicu (dad’s father) : he was sick for so long! Years! It seemed decades! I always knew he could make it. He could outlive, paralyzed, all of us. And one day, he fell, and never breathed again. Never said ‘good bye’.
I apologized to the funerals of both, and I hope and pray they forgave me! I loved them both so, and I wanted to tell them that, and so much more, but I always thought: I will have time.
Maia (mom’s mother) was my toughest one though! She was my soul mate, and my one unconditional love! She was my rock and my North Star! I lost direction when she went, and I never got to see when she went, where she went to, so thus she is forever eternal to me! She is still here, giving me advice, loving me, and tucking me in at night! I feel like a part of my heart will forever live in Eternity with her.
You never have time! You have obligations, and work, and meaningless chats about the weather and meaningless tv shows that you have to catch up on; you have to feed the dog, and the cats.. You have to pay the bills... When the real things of life "can wait"...
The truth is: you never have more than the NOW and that is the only real priority: to fill in the NOW. There is no reality other than the now, and it’s so simple to see it, and yet not anyone, pretty much, is aware of this! The past is buried; the future is unknown and so much at the mercy of so many external factors that it’s unreal also. The now is here.
What are you going to do with the one second you have been given?! What?! Make sure you spend it well! And wisely! Make sure you leave this one second behind with no regrets attached to it. And enjoy it!
Yes…that’s what I thought when I kept telling mom I will see Bubu (mom’s dad) soon, when I knew he was dying of cancer. And one day he went. Never got to say ‘good bye’. Never saw his deep blue-green eyes open again, much less give him a hug. I wear the first silver chain necklace he ever gave me almost every day. But I never said good bye. We lived 5 minutes from each other.
Same thing with Bicu (dad’s father) : he was sick for so long! Years! It seemed decades! I always knew he could make it. He could outlive, paralyzed, all of us. And one day, he fell, and never breathed again. Never said ‘good bye’.
I apologized to the funerals of both, and I hope and pray they forgave me! I loved them both so, and I wanted to tell them that, and so much more, but I always thought: I will have time.
Maia (mom’s mother) was my toughest one though! She was my soul mate, and my one unconditional love! She was my rock and my North Star! I lost direction when she went, and I never got to see when she went, where she went to, so thus she is forever eternal to me! She is still here, giving me advice, loving me, and tucking me in at night! I feel like a part of my heart will forever live in Eternity with her.
You never have time! You have obligations, and work, and meaningless chats about the weather and meaningless tv shows that you have to catch up on; you have to feed the dog, and the cats.. You have to pay the bills... When the real things of life "can wait"...
The truth is: you never have more than the NOW and that is the only real priority: to fill in the NOW. There is no reality other than the now, and it’s so simple to see it, and yet not anyone, pretty much, is aware of this! The past is buried; the future is unknown and so much at the mercy of so many external factors that it’s unreal also. The now is here.
What are you going to do with the one second you have been given?! What?! Make sure you spend it well! And wisely! Make sure you leave this one second behind with no regrets attached to it. And enjoy it!
Saturday, August 26, 2006
Pet Peeves - Chapter 2
So, I am back for more pet peeves, or other things that grab my attention in not such a nice way…
I have always hated the expression “Flattery won’t get you anywhere”. It is simply a lie … the most common lie people tell. We live in a world where vanity is a family value, cherished and passed on, so flattery, my friends, will not only get you far, but it will get you precisely where you need to go! So, my advice: try it, and tell me I am wrong after that!
I hate shopping with a passion. I hate the too many options, the decisions, the fact that nothing fits me, when it’s for me, or the fact that the colors of the seasons are always the wrong ones. I hate that they start the shoe sizes at 6 and I wear a 4 and a half…Hate spending the cash. Hate to shop for others, ‘cause I never know how stupid my gift is going to seem to them. HATE SHOPPING, OK?!!!! But I love shopping for food. Now, food is a different matter. My mouth watering the entire time with the anticipation of a home cooked meal – out of this world pleasure! Hhmm…yum! - Love it! Except for lemons! I hate shopping for lemons, guys. Why?! Because most of the time (99.99% of the times) I only need one lemon! Every recipe, and every made-up recipe only needs one lemon. There is never need for 2 lemons. Not three. Not 10! Just one. But don’t you feel silly buying just one?! Don’t you feel like the cashier is going to totally hate you and give you a “go-to-hell-you-cheap-bastard-you’re-making-me-look-for-the-stupid-four-digit-code-for-one-stupid-lemon-you-freak” look?! Because I do! And I always buy at least 2 of them, and at least one always rots in my fridge! Yeah, not happy about wasting my cash on lemons, that’s for sure!! If I had a dollar for every lemon that rotted in my fridge over the years … - now, there’s a thought!
With the risk of being stereotypical (ask me if I care later), I will say that people in the South cannot carpool! You happen to see more than just the driver in one car, then the car goes at least 15 miles under the speed limit in the fast lane! People down here cannot drive AND talk at the same time! No, no, you’re giving the lazy ass 2 things to do at the same time, you know their brain just doesn’t work that way, dude! They stop driving and they talk, because someone right there (even if it’s a drooling 2 month old) is waiting for an answer. I guess the person in their car is more of an immediate emergency than all the suckers on the highway, so the driver will focus on giving an answer! You know, they’re not THAT multitasked down here, and their living horizons not that wide, therefore they cannot see what’s OUT there, in their non-immediate world! So start honking! But then they start slowing down even more, or swerving, so you’re simply stuck! Oh, road rage! I wonder sometimes how boring and un-juicy my life would be without the richness and the beauty of the curse word vocabulary in two languages! Quite sad!
I have always hated the expression “Flattery won’t get you anywhere”. It is simply a lie … the most common lie people tell. We live in a world where vanity is a family value, cherished and passed on, so flattery, my friends, will not only get you far, but it will get you precisely where you need to go! So, my advice: try it, and tell me I am wrong after that!
I hate shopping with a passion. I hate the too many options, the decisions, the fact that nothing fits me, when it’s for me, or the fact that the colors of the seasons are always the wrong ones. I hate that they start the shoe sizes at 6 and I wear a 4 and a half…Hate spending the cash. Hate to shop for others, ‘cause I never know how stupid my gift is going to seem to them. HATE SHOPPING, OK?!!!! But I love shopping for food. Now, food is a different matter. My mouth watering the entire time with the anticipation of a home cooked meal – out of this world pleasure! Hhmm…yum! - Love it! Except for lemons! I hate shopping for lemons, guys. Why?! Because most of the time (99.99% of the times) I only need one lemon! Every recipe, and every made-up recipe only needs one lemon. There is never need for 2 lemons. Not three. Not 10! Just one. But don’t you feel silly buying just one?! Don’t you feel like the cashier is going to totally hate you and give you a “go-to-hell-you-cheap-bastard-you’re-making-me-look-for-the-stupid-four-digit-code-for-one-stupid-lemon-you-freak” look?! Because I do! And I always buy at least 2 of them, and at least one always rots in my fridge! Yeah, not happy about wasting my cash on lemons, that’s for sure!! If I had a dollar for every lemon that rotted in my fridge over the years … - now, there’s a thought!
With the risk of being stereotypical (ask me if I care later), I will say that people in the South cannot carpool! You happen to see more than just the driver in one car, then the car goes at least 15 miles under the speed limit in the fast lane! People down here cannot drive AND talk at the same time! No, no, you’re giving the lazy ass 2 things to do at the same time, you know their brain just doesn’t work that way, dude! They stop driving and they talk, because someone right there (even if it’s a drooling 2 month old) is waiting for an answer. I guess the person in their car is more of an immediate emergency than all the suckers on the highway, so the driver will focus on giving an answer! You know, they’re not THAT multitasked down here, and their living horizons not that wide, therefore they cannot see what’s OUT there, in their non-immediate world! So start honking! But then they start slowing down even more, or swerving, so you’re simply stuck! Oh, road rage! I wonder sometimes how boring and un-juicy my life would be without the richness and the beauty of the curse word vocabulary in two languages! Quite sad!
Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Off the beaten path…around DC…
"Life's a journey, not a destination..."
Every once in a while (not as often as I would care for), I take a “off the wall” (unexpected, i.e.) trip that kind of seems to spring from nowhere. Some people ask me “why there?” or “why with that person?” – but I don’t have an answer, other than: pure curiosity. And those trips always open up the door for so many surprises that enrich your life so. Even the failed ones are not failures, but good, valuable lessons that you’re fortunate enough to experience.
I always look at an upcoming trip as probably a painter in front of an empty piece of canvas: I have kind of an idea of what’s coming, but no clue what the end product will be like. These unexpected trips, however, have no idea behind them. Just the tools, and the open mind. And they’re often the most fun, too.
This past one was in the DC area, and it was definitely not in the failure realm. A friend of mine wanted company on his visit to Alexandria, VA and Silver Spring, MD.
Here are some of the things I will always remember from this trip:
- Alexandria’s enormous high schools; I have never seen schools that are bigger, more college-looking in my life! They are HUGE! Mostly brick, and spread on hundreds of square feet of land; I guess they want you to feel the seriousness of education and the weight of it too. Intimidating would be the word!
- Alexandria is so rich of history; almost every neighborhood is full of historic houses, and narrow streets, like back in the day; you have the feeling all the people live in museums; the houses are old colonial style, mostly, and you can take the cars away, replace them with horse drawn carriages and you step back some centuries and dream! The air smells of history and the land is soaking in it; you feel it at every step; who said America is the New World?!
- The ‘Old Town’ in Alexandria will always remain in my mind, because of the Torpedo Factory, a former, well, yes, torpedo factory now turned into an art gallery and shop. The railings of the main staircase feature every art present in the building; the shops are not only stores you can purchase the art, but also ateliers where you can watch the art being made; anything from metal sculpting to oil painting and custom jewelry is on display. The waterfront nearby features gourmet foods, European footwear and what do you know: rescue … birds for adoption! I for one am familiar with the adoption gatherings from Pets Mart every Saturday, where they would have kitties and dogs, sometimes bunnies, but parrots and macaws ??!!– I never knew they could too be “rescued”. Beautiful sidewalk “bump-into”, I might say.
- I was also to witness my very first ever live soccer game on this trip. Washington United took on the Colorado Rapids, to only be able to tie in the end, a 1 all score. To me, it was a milestone. I grew up watching soccer, as the national sport in Romania; a sport (there) with no season, because it’s played even in the bitter cold winter. But I have never been on a stadium and watched it live. I loved it, and let me tell you: soccer fans are so much more fun and so much more exciting than baseball fans! Yeah, I know, there is not as much scoring, but who needs it when the vitality of the game itself is enough to get the crowd going?! I wished only that my family could have been there to watch with me.
- An interesting discovery was that Polish people are just as Balkan as Romanians, although further North in geography. I don’t mean to generalize or over-simplify, but certain people do display certain common characteristics when they belong to the same national group. And that is just a fact. Interesting it was that Polish and Romanians have so much in common: certain things that I have labeled for years as “Romanian” were to be displayed this weekend by this very chirpy and welcoming young lady from Poland. A wonderful hostess and cook, a determined and at times demanding wife, and an overprotective “mom” to her pet, all tied together with a generous laughter and a happy and warm spirit made me feel right at home. A simple-minded yet sophisticated system of values were very familiar to me too, as well as a disarming honesty which sometimes Americans find hard to grasp. A rare find, I would say. Very unique and refreshing.
- In an Arlington diner, we discovered you can order two eggs and ham, or two eggs and bacon, or two eggs and sausage, or two eggs and ... "scrapple". Aside the fact that it's a funny word to say, I felt like the people who put together the menu got tired of all the boring things that they could figure out to pair up with the eggs, and made up a new one : "Eh, have some bacon, sausage, ham, throw some scrapple in there, or something ...". We had to ask what scrapple was and the nice waitress with the piercing blue eyes served us 3 pieces of the mysterious food as samples: "After they're done making the ham and the bacon, she said, whatever meat of the pork is left, they grind it and turn it into scrapple" - it tasted like sausage patties, only with more flavor and spice. Definitely not recommended if you're watching your cholesterol, I'm pretty sure.
- For dinner one night, we went to a Central American (“El Golfo” in Silver Spring, MD) restaurant where you could find foods from anywhere in South America. If it’s one thing I completely love about the bigger metropolitan areas of the big cities is the diversity and cosmopolitanism of the foods. The food was incredible! I have never seen burritos and rice done that way in my life. Tasty, and gourmet, yet affordable; linens on tables and in your lap, and incredible service. It was definitely the highlight taste bud-wise!
No, we didn’t get to visit “THE” city of DC, but the only regret I had at the end of the trip was not having spent more time on the water, in the galleries, and scouting out more yummy treats. Reasons enough for a come back, I hope.
For pictures, please use link below (you might have to copy and paste in browser):
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=f0f6re2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/my_photos
Every once in a while (not as often as I would care for), I take a “off the wall” (unexpected, i.e.) trip that kind of seems to spring from nowhere. Some people ask me “why there?” or “why with that person?” – but I don’t have an answer, other than: pure curiosity. And those trips always open up the door for so many surprises that enrich your life so. Even the failed ones are not failures, but good, valuable lessons that you’re fortunate enough to experience.
I always look at an upcoming trip as probably a painter in front of an empty piece of canvas: I have kind of an idea of what’s coming, but no clue what the end product will be like. These unexpected trips, however, have no idea behind them. Just the tools, and the open mind. And they’re often the most fun, too.
This past one was in the DC area, and it was definitely not in the failure realm. A friend of mine wanted company on his visit to Alexandria, VA and Silver Spring, MD.
Here are some of the things I will always remember from this trip:
- Alexandria’s enormous high schools; I have never seen schools that are bigger, more college-looking in my life! They are HUGE! Mostly brick, and spread on hundreds of square feet of land; I guess they want you to feel the seriousness of education and the weight of it too. Intimidating would be the word!
- Alexandria is so rich of history; almost every neighborhood is full of historic houses, and narrow streets, like back in the day; you have the feeling all the people live in museums; the houses are old colonial style, mostly, and you can take the cars away, replace them with horse drawn carriages and you step back some centuries and dream! The air smells of history and the land is soaking in it; you feel it at every step; who said America is the New World?!
- The ‘Old Town’ in Alexandria will always remain in my mind, because of the Torpedo Factory, a former, well, yes, torpedo factory now turned into an art gallery and shop. The railings of the main staircase feature every art present in the building; the shops are not only stores you can purchase the art, but also ateliers where you can watch the art being made; anything from metal sculpting to oil painting and custom jewelry is on display. The waterfront nearby features gourmet foods, European footwear and what do you know: rescue … birds for adoption! I for one am familiar with the adoption gatherings from Pets Mart every Saturday, where they would have kitties and dogs, sometimes bunnies, but parrots and macaws ??!!– I never knew they could too be “rescued”. Beautiful sidewalk “bump-into”, I might say.
- I was also to witness my very first ever live soccer game on this trip. Washington United took on the Colorado Rapids, to only be able to tie in the end, a 1 all score. To me, it was a milestone. I grew up watching soccer, as the national sport in Romania; a sport (there) with no season, because it’s played even in the bitter cold winter. But I have never been on a stadium and watched it live. I loved it, and let me tell you: soccer fans are so much more fun and so much more exciting than baseball fans! Yeah, I know, there is not as much scoring, but who needs it when the vitality of the game itself is enough to get the crowd going?! I wished only that my family could have been there to watch with me.
- An interesting discovery was that Polish people are just as Balkan as Romanians, although further North in geography. I don’t mean to generalize or over-simplify, but certain people do display certain common characteristics when they belong to the same national group. And that is just a fact. Interesting it was that Polish and Romanians have so much in common: certain things that I have labeled for years as “Romanian” were to be displayed this weekend by this very chirpy and welcoming young lady from Poland. A wonderful hostess and cook, a determined and at times demanding wife, and an overprotective “mom” to her pet, all tied together with a generous laughter and a happy and warm spirit made me feel right at home. A simple-minded yet sophisticated system of values were very familiar to me too, as well as a disarming honesty which sometimes Americans find hard to grasp. A rare find, I would say. Very unique and refreshing.
- In an Arlington diner, we discovered you can order two eggs and ham, or two eggs and bacon, or two eggs and sausage, or two eggs and ... "scrapple". Aside the fact that it's a funny word to say, I felt like the people who put together the menu got tired of all the boring things that they could figure out to pair up with the eggs, and made up a new one : "Eh, have some bacon, sausage, ham, throw some scrapple in there, or something ...". We had to ask what scrapple was and the nice waitress with the piercing blue eyes served us 3 pieces of the mysterious food as samples: "After they're done making the ham and the bacon, she said, whatever meat of the pork is left, they grind it and turn it into scrapple" - it tasted like sausage patties, only with more flavor and spice. Definitely not recommended if you're watching your cholesterol, I'm pretty sure.
- For dinner one night, we went to a Central American (“El Golfo” in Silver Spring, MD) restaurant where you could find foods from anywhere in South America. If it’s one thing I completely love about the bigger metropolitan areas of the big cities is the diversity and cosmopolitanism of the foods. The food was incredible! I have never seen burritos and rice done that way in my life. Tasty, and gourmet, yet affordable; linens on tables and in your lap, and incredible service. It was definitely the highlight taste bud-wise!
No, we didn’t get to visit “THE” city of DC, but the only regret I had at the end of the trip was not having spent more time on the water, in the galleries, and scouting out more yummy treats. Reasons enough for a come back, I hope.
For pictures, please use link below (you might have to copy and paste in browser):
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=f0f6re2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/my_photos
Wednesday, August 16, 2006
Pet Peeves – Chapter 1
I have been collecting these things for a while, so now, I decided to share them with the world, as any good writer would do: just share the wisdom/ frustration, not just bottle it up and be selfish.
I typically consider myself an open minded person, but of course, I am human. And as a corky (and opinionated) human being I do have my own pet peeves, my own little frustrations that make my skin crawl and my hairs stand up sometimes, even if for a brief second. Just to make life more interesting. You know, just certain things that rub me the other way, just like a cat petted from tail to head! Or just things that absolutely puzzle me to no end, making me question every system of values I have ever encountered!
Yes, I have been known to call fat people “fat” at WalMart to their faces if they interfere with my shopping spree! Sorry! Deep down I am a hot blooded, Latin, Aries, Gypsy Romanian, what can ya’ do?! And as a true Aries, a person of impulse. So, thinking kicks in only after the action has taken its course…
Sorry for the offenses, just take them all with a grain of salt… Please!
These are examples of “irk-ness”-s; just first thoughts that sometimes I wish I could voice but common sense and sometimes the law prevent me from taking any sort of action. The paper is the only outlet.
Handicapped parking spots are not a Romanian thing; I first experienced them in America; and they don’t bother me much: I think it’s wonderful to accommodate the less fortunate. What I absolutely hate though, is fat people posing for handicapped, once; and another thing I hate: fat people, with handicapped stickers on the car, pulling into the parking spot that is RIGHT next to a designated handicapped place, but not a designated handicapped place per se, while the said handicapped spot is absolutely empty and they could take what’s theirs! You see: the spot they’re taking might be mine! Not anymore! The handicapped spot is empty, and the “normal” one next door is taken by a fat person, who cannot turn their wheel a couple of notches more to occupy what they really want. Well, what they are really given! HATE that!!!!!!!! Only at WalMart!
Another thing I absolutely hate is the wrong color of tags on clothes. Why do they place white tags on black clothes, and black tags on white clothes?! Why?! Then, you know the black tags will always be seen through the white clothing, and the white tag will always stick out of the black outfit making you look like an idiot! Color coordinate, people, or just sew the tag to the clothes, on the inside preferably, so we won’t be embarrassed. It’s like the little Gods of the clothing industry want to have fun with us being in Corporate America meetings and looking like a second hand dresser! Conspiracy, I tell ya’!
Another thing I don’t get is this: why is a 300+ lbs woman, with a quadruple chin and barely able to reach her steering wheel from her fat stomach, not able to tell the road from the shoulder, since her eyes are completely swallowed up by fatness, driving a beaten up Chevy, from the 19th century, it seems, metal flaking off the bottom, - so, why is she choosing a personalized license plate that reads “BEAUTIE”?! OK! I think I am somewhat decently smart and observant, but I cannot guess for the life of me who the beauty might be here?! Maybe I am blind??! Not judgmental, remember, but come ON … be real here… If you did it for comic relief, though, it works! I AM laughing, I can promise you that much.
Aahh, it’s good to see that people can poke fun at themselves. Yes, indeed!
More to come… Soon…
I typically consider myself an open minded person, but of course, I am human. And as a corky (and opinionated) human being I do have my own pet peeves, my own little frustrations that make my skin crawl and my hairs stand up sometimes, even if for a brief second. Just to make life more interesting. You know, just certain things that rub me the other way, just like a cat petted from tail to head! Or just things that absolutely puzzle me to no end, making me question every system of values I have ever encountered!
Yes, I have been known to call fat people “fat” at WalMart to their faces if they interfere with my shopping spree! Sorry! Deep down I am a hot blooded, Latin, Aries, Gypsy Romanian, what can ya’ do?! And as a true Aries, a person of impulse. So, thinking kicks in only after the action has taken its course…
Sorry for the offenses, just take them all with a grain of salt… Please!
These are examples of “irk-ness”-s; just first thoughts that sometimes I wish I could voice but common sense and sometimes the law prevent me from taking any sort of action. The paper is the only outlet.
Handicapped parking spots are not a Romanian thing; I first experienced them in America; and they don’t bother me much: I think it’s wonderful to accommodate the less fortunate. What I absolutely hate though, is fat people posing for handicapped, once; and another thing I hate: fat people, with handicapped stickers on the car, pulling into the parking spot that is RIGHT next to a designated handicapped place, but not a designated handicapped place per se, while the said handicapped spot is absolutely empty and they could take what’s theirs! You see: the spot they’re taking might be mine! Not anymore! The handicapped spot is empty, and the “normal” one next door is taken by a fat person, who cannot turn their wheel a couple of notches more to occupy what they really want. Well, what they are really given! HATE that!!!!!!!! Only at WalMart!
Another thing I absolutely hate is the wrong color of tags on clothes. Why do they place white tags on black clothes, and black tags on white clothes?! Why?! Then, you know the black tags will always be seen through the white clothing, and the white tag will always stick out of the black outfit making you look like an idiot! Color coordinate, people, or just sew the tag to the clothes, on the inside preferably, so we won’t be embarrassed. It’s like the little Gods of the clothing industry want to have fun with us being in Corporate America meetings and looking like a second hand dresser! Conspiracy, I tell ya’!
Another thing I don’t get is this: why is a 300+ lbs woman, with a quadruple chin and barely able to reach her steering wheel from her fat stomach, not able to tell the road from the shoulder, since her eyes are completely swallowed up by fatness, driving a beaten up Chevy, from the 19th century, it seems, metal flaking off the bottom, - so, why is she choosing a personalized license plate that reads “BEAUTIE”?! OK! I think I am somewhat decently smart and observant, but I cannot guess for the life of me who the beauty might be here?! Maybe I am blind??! Not judgmental, remember, but come ON … be real here… If you did it for comic relief, though, it works! I AM laughing, I can promise you that much.
Aahh, it’s good to see that people can poke fun at themselves. Yes, indeed!
More to come… Soon…
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Bitter
" In the midst of nothingness, there is a road that goes directly to my true home."
(Gesshu)
The taste of life sometimes turns so bitter you feel you have just chewed on your own bile! So bitter it makes your eyes tear and your teeth cringe! Your own person becomes the very essence of this bitterness and this sickness; you want to hide, but there is nowhere you hide from yourself. Your body hurts, the tongue in your mouth, the image in your bathroom mirror. You want a punch in the stomach just so you can appease the pain of the heart.
And you remember all the things they say about life: that it’s nothing more than a pile of shit with whipped cream on top; sometimes Fate throws a cherry in, too; and that you pay dearly for happiness, while pain is free… All those things you know, and you refuse to believe when you have horses’ blinds.
But somehow, you find the strength (does crawling require strength?!) to move on and shake it off. And pray for band aids and less cloudy days! You pray and you hope. Although what you really “have” is the now, and the now is so bitter and endless. I never believed that I could say, in any circumstance, that the “now is endless”, but the bitter and painful now is!
And somehow, subconsciously, you know you’ll be all right. Somehow, you know that one day you’ll return home, to your true self, which indeed is pure, and whole and so healthy! You trust that you will find that road back to your sweet (oh, so sweet!) self, and the balm will calm the pain. And you know it’s never too far; it’s right here, but the tears and the pain prevent you from seeing it… In the meantime, you just throw up to get rid of the bitterness and purify! It’s a life ritual, and you cannot pull back from it. As much as it hurts, you feel good already…
(Gesshu)
The taste of life sometimes turns so bitter you feel you have just chewed on your own bile! So bitter it makes your eyes tear and your teeth cringe! Your own person becomes the very essence of this bitterness and this sickness; you want to hide, but there is nowhere you hide from yourself. Your body hurts, the tongue in your mouth, the image in your bathroom mirror. You want a punch in the stomach just so you can appease the pain of the heart.
And you remember all the things they say about life: that it’s nothing more than a pile of shit with whipped cream on top; sometimes Fate throws a cherry in, too; and that you pay dearly for happiness, while pain is free… All those things you know, and you refuse to believe when you have horses’ blinds.
But somehow, you find the strength (does crawling require strength?!) to move on and shake it off. And pray for band aids and less cloudy days! You pray and you hope. Although what you really “have” is the now, and the now is so bitter and endless. I never believed that I could say, in any circumstance, that the “now is endless”, but the bitter and painful now is!
And somehow, subconsciously, you know you’ll be all right. Somehow, you know that one day you’ll return home, to your true self, which indeed is pure, and whole and so healthy! You trust that you will find that road back to your sweet (oh, so sweet!) self, and the balm will calm the pain. And you know it’s never too far; it’s right here, but the tears and the pain prevent you from seeing it… In the meantime, you just throw up to get rid of the bitterness and purify! It’s a life ritual, and you cannot pull back from it. As much as it hurts, you feel good already…
Monday, August 07, 2006
Travel Journal: Myrtle Beach – not so much cheese for me
They always frown when I mention I have plans to go to Myrtle Beach, or that I just went there. There is never a doubt: the minute I will pronounce that name, eyebrows will raise, hands will wave, eyes will roll, and grins will appear; all accompanied by the all-to-known comment “oh, cheesy”! But having lived there, and having known a couple of places, I can tell you: Myrtle Beach is not all about the cheese, and the redneck-ness, and the gross touristy “too-much”-ness! Not for me, anyways!
I decided to do a trip there a couple of weekends back, just because I missed the Ocean! The Ocean helps me think. It helps put things into perspective for me. I used to look at it, back when I lived there, as the ONE big thing between me and my past life! The big “Pond”, that separated my mother continent from my now home continent; so, it will forever hold more meaning to me than just a huge body of water, full of sharks and jelly fish where you can swim and have fun in the sun.
Every time when I need to think, or look back into my past and find my true self ( which we cannot help but lose realization of sometimes, in the hustle and bustle of today) I go to the Ocean. That is why I try to stay “on the beach” when I go there! And because that is the main reason I go to the beach, I care little for what the beach provides in terms of entertainment (or peaceful lack of it); I go to Myrtle for the familiarity of it, and because that familiarity keeps my mind clear, as I need it for other selfish and self absorbed things.
There are some “touristy” things I always enjoy revisiting there, though: like the River City Café, who allows you to eat peanuts till you pop, and to dump your shells on the ground, while writing all over the walls with permanent markers, in that nonchalant, vacationing spirit where you worry little about being a slob; also the Bummz Café (can a name be more appropriate for a beach bar?!?), which is on the beach, affordable, and with a great view of the dunes and the waves – now this one always brings me back! That’s when I know I am finally at the Ocean. Just sitting on Bummz’s patio, sipping a cold drink and eating the grouper sandwich, smell of sand and salt everywhere, and the swishy sound of palm trees nearby, almost putting me to sleep.
Yes, you also have to play putt-putt when you’re there, but not because you’re a redneck, but because it’s fun to be a kid again, once in a while! Especially since Greensboro doesn’t offer that, and especially when you can’t swim or boogie board, or play other sports to enjoy the outside world! To me it’s just fun, because I didn’t grow up in a country where putt-putt was even known, much less offered! Yes, I do some things now that I should have when I was 10, but this to me it’s just proof that you can never, and should never, tell yourself you’re “too old” for anything. You’re only too old in your head! You’re the one setting the boundaries! The world will always welcome you; will always await you with the same fun opportunities – always.
I will admit that Broadway at the Beach is indeed cheesy and at least overpriced! I do go there for the seafood at Joe’s Crabshack (have you seen the sizes of those fresh seafood portions ???? For something like $12.99 to $14.99???? – now, I like a great deal just as much as the next Walmart shopper, but that place just gives it away!); and you have to visit the “Stupid Factory (where boys are made)” t-shirt store, just to feel good about being a sassy chick! (*smile*); and although it’s filled with cheese, I always have to say hi to the Cat Store. How can I not?! I just need to be reminded that “cats are like potato chips: you can never have just one”, or that “cat hair is a condiment in my house”. Of course, I do. It’s all about the smiles, you see. And some places just offer them for free.
And also, this year, just like every summer, I got a tingly feeling on my skin, too. You have to get at least a mild sunburn and the sun never burns as hot as on the sand! A good sunburn comes with the summer menu! Just like I am thrilled when I get a good, miserable cold in the winter, which forces me inside, next to a huge pot of soup and some chamomile tea that otherwise tastes like liquid plastic! – just like that, I am insanely happy when my skin hurts from the sun! No, no sun screen required, not too much anyways, ‘cause we want to burn. Just for one silly day, we can let ourselves be free! I am not talking about the whole summer, and you’ll never, and I mean NEVER catch me in a tanning bad, but a little decadence and losing control I love. Yeah, I am not all crazy! After all, we’re all paranoid about skin cancer, right?! So, yeah, I laid out in the sun, got my skin tone changed, all naturally, and enjoyed the burn. Quite the pleasure when you go to bed and every pore screams, and stings. Aloe is my friend! It’s like cold beer for the skin! Yummy!
And I did think, deep and long, on the side of the ocean, and I did repainted the mental canvas of my life. I tried to see things as clear as the sky in the sunset or sunrise over the ocean, and just as bright! Just like sunset, the past was sent to bed; and just like the sunrise, the new life will invade my near future. And hopeful, too!
Dipping in your past energy can give you quite a push for the future. I came out of the beach day dreaming with new thoughts, and new hopes, and new gas for the gas pedal! Just like you come out of the water: refreshed and anew. You need a while before you dry off again. And when that will happen, I am sure I will be ready for another visit to the very familiar and uncluttered (for me) “Cheese World”.
For pictures (might have to copy and paste):
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=779are2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/my_photos
I decided to do a trip there a couple of weekends back, just because I missed the Ocean! The Ocean helps me think. It helps put things into perspective for me. I used to look at it, back when I lived there, as the ONE big thing between me and my past life! The big “Pond”, that separated my mother continent from my now home continent; so, it will forever hold more meaning to me than just a huge body of water, full of sharks and jelly fish where you can swim and have fun in the sun.
Every time when I need to think, or look back into my past and find my true self ( which we cannot help but lose realization of sometimes, in the hustle and bustle of today) I go to the Ocean. That is why I try to stay “on the beach” when I go there! And because that is the main reason I go to the beach, I care little for what the beach provides in terms of entertainment (or peaceful lack of it); I go to Myrtle for the familiarity of it, and because that familiarity keeps my mind clear, as I need it for other selfish and self absorbed things.
There are some “touristy” things I always enjoy revisiting there, though: like the River City Café, who allows you to eat peanuts till you pop, and to dump your shells on the ground, while writing all over the walls with permanent markers, in that nonchalant, vacationing spirit where you worry little about being a slob; also the Bummz Café (can a name be more appropriate for a beach bar?!?), which is on the beach, affordable, and with a great view of the dunes and the waves – now this one always brings me back! That’s when I know I am finally at the Ocean. Just sitting on Bummz’s patio, sipping a cold drink and eating the grouper sandwich, smell of sand and salt everywhere, and the swishy sound of palm trees nearby, almost putting me to sleep.
Yes, you also have to play putt-putt when you’re there, but not because you’re a redneck, but because it’s fun to be a kid again, once in a while! Especially since Greensboro doesn’t offer that, and especially when you can’t swim or boogie board, or play other sports to enjoy the outside world! To me it’s just fun, because I didn’t grow up in a country where putt-putt was even known, much less offered! Yes, I do some things now that I should have when I was 10, but this to me it’s just proof that you can never, and should never, tell yourself you’re “too old” for anything. You’re only too old in your head! You’re the one setting the boundaries! The world will always welcome you; will always await you with the same fun opportunities – always.
I will admit that Broadway at the Beach is indeed cheesy and at least overpriced! I do go there for the seafood at Joe’s Crabshack (have you seen the sizes of those fresh seafood portions ???? For something like $12.99 to $14.99???? – now, I like a great deal just as much as the next Walmart shopper, but that place just gives it away!); and you have to visit the “Stupid Factory (where boys are made)” t-shirt store, just to feel good about being a sassy chick! (*smile*); and although it’s filled with cheese, I always have to say hi to the Cat Store. How can I not?! I just need to be reminded that “cats are like potato chips: you can never have just one”, or that “cat hair is a condiment in my house”. Of course, I do. It’s all about the smiles, you see. And some places just offer them for free.
And also, this year, just like every summer, I got a tingly feeling on my skin, too. You have to get at least a mild sunburn and the sun never burns as hot as on the sand! A good sunburn comes with the summer menu! Just like I am thrilled when I get a good, miserable cold in the winter, which forces me inside, next to a huge pot of soup and some chamomile tea that otherwise tastes like liquid plastic! – just like that, I am insanely happy when my skin hurts from the sun! No, no sun screen required, not too much anyways, ‘cause we want to burn. Just for one silly day, we can let ourselves be free! I am not talking about the whole summer, and you’ll never, and I mean NEVER catch me in a tanning bad, but a little decadence and losing control I love. Yeah, I am not all crazy! After all, we’re all paranoid about skin cancer, right?! So, yeah, I laid out in the sun, got my skin tone changed, all naturally, and enjoyed the burn. Quite the pleasure when you go to bed and every pore screams, and stings. Aloe is my friend! It’s like cold beer for the skin! Yummy!
And I did think, deep and long, on the side of the ocean, and I did repainted the mental canvas of my life. I tried to see things as clear as the sky in the sunset or sunrise over the ocean, and just as bright! Just like sunset, the past was sent to bed; and just like the sunrise, the new life will invade my near future. And hopeful, too!
Dipping in your past energy can give you quite a push for the future. I came out of the beach day dreaming with new thoughts, and new hopes, and new gas for the gas pedal! Just like you come out of the water: refreshed and anew. You need a while before you dry off again. And when that will happen, I am sure I will be ready for another visit to the very familiar and uncluttered (for me) “Cheese World”.
For pictures (might have to copy and paste):
http://pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/album?.dir=779are2&.src=ph&store=&prodid=&.done=http%3a//pg.photos.yahoo.com/ph/alinaservici/my_photos
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.
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.
Friday, July 21, 2006
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.
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.
Saturday, July 15, 2006
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…
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…
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
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 …
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 …
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
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 …
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 …
Sunday, June 25, 2006
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”
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”
Sunday, June 18, 2006
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…
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…
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