71 de toamne

Cu tine în minte pășim împreună în cel de-al 71-lea an al vieții tale ... Cu tine de mână mă îndrept înspre ziua de maine. Cu speranță, cu dorința fierbinte de mai bine, de mai ușor ... 

De ziua ta mă coplesesc amintirile. Bucuria imensă pe care ți-o aducea fiecare concediu la mare.  Bucatele minunate pe care le pregăteai la sfârșitul fiecărei zile (abia așteptam să deschizi seara ușa de la camera noastră să ne întrebi “Cartofi prăjiți? Sau piure?”). Plimbările pe faleza de la Constanța - la deal și la vale pană se întuneca de-a dreptul și nu mai vedeam marea, doar îi auzeam ecoul ... 

Mereu am iubit gropițele din obrajii tăi slăbuți, și ochii tăi minunați în care se deschide parcă tot cerul ... Am iubit întotdeauna dragostea ta de adevăr, dreptatea, și directitudinea și onestitatea desăvârșite. Am iubit până și cicatricea ta adâncă de pe piept - în secret îmi doream și eu una și pană la urma viața mi-a daruit-o și mie. Un semn de durere dar și de tărie ... 

Mi-aduc aminte ce multă fericire îți aducea tata și ce imensă era dragostea dintre voi, chiar și în zilele cele mai grele ... Mi-aduc aminte de mulți ani frumoși, de seri în familie unde urmăream cu toții vreun serial sau când jucam cu toții Rummy sau tu cu tata, table ... Viața era grea în afară, dar ușoară între noi, pentru că apropierea și dragostea erau mari ... Asta țin cu mine, în inimă cât voi trăi! 

Când viața era mai ușoară, poate, 

și poate fără prea multe griji ...

Trăiesc din amintirile astea zilnic și nu-mi doresc nimic mai mult decât să ne ofere viața în continuare oportunități în care să ne facem altele, noi amintiri, din capitole noi care ni se deschid abia de acum înainte. 

Te iubesc, mama, mai mult decât orice cuvânt din orice limbă poate să descrie. Mi-ai dat onestitatea și puterea ta, chiar dacă nu mi-ai dat gropitele și nici culoarea ochilor. Te iubim cu toții și vrem să ne trăiești sănătoasă și fără griji în continuare ... 

La mulți ani sănătoși, cu putere și ușurință ... 

Random Lessons From a Trip to the Old Country

This is one of those travelogs where things are not necessarily connected outside the fact that they all happened in one trip. 

This time, it was yet another “family/ work” trip and not a fun trip, but fun is something you make on the go and not something you always plan for ... There are some lessons here as well, as travels are always the greatest teachers ... You jump on a plane, or in a car or bus (or in an Uber cab nowadays)  and you learn so much more than any book or any documentary can teach you at home ... 

So, hop on alongside me and find out the juicy details of my latest trip back to the Old Country ... 

On an Austrian Airlines flight you learn that Germans cannot veer off a script to help their lives. On any American flight I have ever been on, if you are asleep and they come by with treats or food, they happily skip you. They do not wake you up. On our long flight from Newark to Vienna, they come and drop the snack packs and napkins in your lap. Some are falling on the floor, some are startling the passenger who is in no mood for eating anyway and ends up storing the snack in the pocket of the seat in front of them - at any rate, a waste ... When they brought over the full-blown dinner, they expanded the tray tables themselves with people still asleep to put the trays in front of sleeping people ... I guess they have 300 food servings and they absolutely must disperse 300 food servings. They cannot operate any other way that would be deemed “out of pattern”... 

Also, on an Austrian Airline flight from America: 

Flight attendant: Would you like some wine? 

Passenger: Yes, please. Red. 

Flight attendant: Would you like some water in your wine? 

Passenger, puzzled: Umm .... nope ... 

In America, no one ever would even consider “spoiling” the wine with water. In Europe, we almost always drink wine with water. Americans are purists. Except when it comes to cocktails and then the sky's the limit.

Once in Iasi, my hometown, I notice things that bring me home. 

On a commemorative plaque on a historic building in Iasi, a quote that seems appropriate for my trip: “We were given suffering so we can speak the truth.”(original: “Ni s-a dat suferinta ca sa spunem adevarul.”) (Iosif Sava)

I noticed a lot more street music players this time around in Iasi. Sure, they want to get paid but some of them were rather good. This particular guy was playing the guitar and singing a la Victor Socaciu (a famous Romanian  troubadour)  in front of the Trei Ierarhi cathedral in the city center. The lyrics stuck with me because they spoke so loudly to my life now: “si te iubesc cu groaza si cu mila”, meaning, “I love you in awe and with so much mercy”. This is me and mom right now. 

The most beautiful thing anyone has ever told me, and the most beautiful thing my mom has ever told me was on March 8, which is International Women’s Day: we were both lying in bed, next to each other. She started caressing my cheek and said: “You are way too beautiful to be my daughter ... “. I teared up and told her “I am beautiful because I am your daughter. I am beautiful because you are my mom and you gave me your beauty.” 

Outside of the oncology hospital, and all around it, in the yard, and the streets adjacent to it, I could not help but notice tons of patients in their pj’s, in the cold, gray days of February, smoking. Such an oxymoron, or maybe a clear explanation of the place ... 

I could write a separate blog, or even a short book about my experience in Uber cars. They could be quite the character builder and quite the character study. A few snippets: 

• March 8th will remain in my calendar as the day when I traveled with an Uber driver in Iasi, Romania that did not have music blasting in his car. I didn’t quite know what to do with myself. It was truly eerie. Usually, you can’t hear yourself think from music shaking the car windows. They never ask permission and they never ask whether the music is to your liking or too loud. And you don’t dare ask.  I tried really hard not to feel guilty during this particular trip, since it was only like a 7 minute ride but I failed. On second thought, I am not sure I would qualify for “this new generation”, either ... 

• Soliloquy of an Uber driver in my home town of Iasi: I don’t get it with young people nowadays - they ride the Uber and then they complain that they’re fat and need a gym membership!! Well, stop being lazy and walk and you won’t need the gym! But this is why they want such high salaries to have money for their gym and their Uber. They want big salaries, they’re not happy with the salaries, they go outside (the country) for their jobs. I am not sure who’ll be working to pay for our retirement anymore. But ... that’s this new generation for you!! 
• Another Uber driver while we stop at an intersection next-door to a cafe. We are very clearly looking at a  prostitute with her pimp having coffee and smoking on the patio of the cafe, when the driver muses out loud: You can totally see their ... umm... ‘relationship’. As a man I never understood how you can stoop so low to have a woman make you look handsome and well-dressed like that with what she earns. He would be nothing without her. How can he accept such a relationship and be kept with the money earned that way? I don’t get it! Where is his pride?! 
• In general, Romanian drivers are angry. I know because I am one, and I am the daughter of one. Romanian Uber drivers, though, are a special brand of angry. I am not sure whether I should be grateful that they are trying with all their might (through expletives, sudden acceleration followed by sudden dead-stops, and abundant honking) to get me to my destination faster, or I should rate them poorly for having an attitude or an anger management problem.
• Not sure why but I find that Uber drivers, at least in Europe (this happened several times in Iasi, but it also happened in Vienna a few years back) love to talk politics. I mean, politics in America are taboo. Not in Europe. And definitely not in Romania. One day, in Iasi, this kid tells me “Oh, the world is upside down nowadays, you know. Did you hear that Canada just passed a law where if you say ANYTHING against the government, they put you in jail forever?” I told him I am somewhat familiar with Canada and their laws and I heard of no such thing, and that there are nuances to every law and someone somewhere misinformed him. He assured me it’s true because “even Elon Musk is against it, because he is very free-speech, you know.” Oh yes, I know.
• I learned, also in Romania, about how much an Uber driver makes, because in Romania speaking about your gains is totally normal, unlike in the US. This driver gave me the example of the ride I was paying for: the total came up to 45 lei (about $9). He makes about 30 lei of those ($6). I am not sure what I would have expected their share to be, but there it was. 

A lot of the time during my trip to Romania revolved around relocating mom and starting a new chapter in our lives as a family. It was one of the most difficult trips that I have ever had to take. Seeing that someone you love, their whole life is reduced to the confines of a strange room, or even smaller, to a bed that doesn’t even belong to them is gut-wrenching. There are no words to describe that kind of pain. 

There was a clock hung on the wall in the hallway, at the facility where mom lives now and it had no hands. It was so symbolic: I guess once you come there, life just stops in so many ways. Who needs the time to be measured anymore?! You’re kinda drifting. And that just empties me ... 

The clock with no hands, right next to an emergency exit sign ...

To have one parent still alive, but not be able to watch them watch you leave the house and wave “goodbye” to you as you depart, or to have a parent and not be able to at least text them when you board a flight to let them know you’re safely leaving, or to text them when you land to tell them you safely made it on the other shore - this is character building! 

Airports are funny places. You can observe the entire humanity, in all its glory,  desperation, beauty, and ugliness. Some of the things I notice in this one trip: 

• Romanians spent 50 years of communism with no heat and now they are making up for it by overheating every indoor place. Stores and the airports are easily North of 80F. And that is because it’s March outside, which in Romania can easily pass for winter. 
• Romanians wear the most uncomfortable shoes in airports! Patented shoes?! Super high stiletto heels?! I am not quite sure where they think they are going at 11PM on a flight to Bucharest of all places (internal flight for Romania), but they surely dress up for it. 
• I like watching the different fashions parading through the airports: the posh, overworked but comfortable look of French women, passing by bored like they own the place and every Chanel, Gautier and Yves St Laurent store; the fad, plain, unkempt look of American women, with froufrou socs, worn-down scrunchies, makeupless faces, staring at everything with mouths agape. I am pretty sure only Americans stare with their mouths open. I am not sure why that is but you try to prove me wrong. The visible discomfort of Muslim women roasting under the many layers and tight scarves in a hot airport. We all make up a world. And somehow, in an airport, we can all get along. So different, and yet so alike and united by one purpose: to wander home, wherever that is for all of us ... 
• Airports are some of the most diverse places I have ever been in. At 3 AM in Bucharest, you see everyone and anyone: Muslim families with women clad in such tight clothes I wonder if they can breathe, very few African Americans (unusual for Eastern Europe), traveling Hare Krishnas, and even a Scottish guy in a kilt. It’s not even the US, or Paris. This is Bucharest. 
• The waitress at the Lavazza restaurant in Bucharest refuses to speak Romanian with me. Is it that I look foreign? Or does she assume that everyone must speak the international language of English in an international airport? Is she tired? I know it cannot be that my Romanian is that bad, because I have been here for a month and I have been moving mountains in the very language I was born and raised in and not one person had issues understanding me, but I honor her persistence and answer her in English. I would not want to upset her at midnight, now would I?! She might screw up my cappuccino decaf. 
• The waitress in the Paris airport is downright rude when I have trouble understanding her very heavily French-accented English. She almost screams at me when I ask her to repeat the price.  
• Speaking of the French - I find French people speaking English hard to understand but this one was so clever: a flight attendant on an Air France plane (a dark-brown-eyed young Alain Delon) says to a person asking whether they will catch their connection since our flight is coming in delayed: “It is in the same terminal, so you might catch it, but go to the gate first when we land and ask, but you might catch it. It is make-able.” Well, of course “make-able” should be a word. Why not?! 
• Thank God for small favors, and when a patriarchal society pays off: we have to ride the bus in the Bucharest airport, from the plane to the terminal. Because I have a head full of gray hair, younger men rush to stand up and offer me their seats. And you know what: at midnight, in a packed-full bus, I do not feel insulted and I do not mind. I take the seat and am grateful. 

I notice a huge difference in the way we look at local business here, in The States, and how they look at it in Romania. In the US, you are uncool and the enemy if you don’t agree that “shop local” is the best - support your local economy for a strong city and community. In Romania, when I shop at the local neighborhood, family-owned convenience stores and grocery stores, my uncle reminds me that “I need to go to Auchan or Kaufland (both huge supermarket stores) because I don’t want you to put the money in the coffers of these thieves down the street.” I have trouble understanding why people trying to make a living on their own are “thieves” but he is convinced this is wrong. 

The life lessons from the two movies I watch on the plane can be summarized in these two quotes: 

• From the immigration movie Past Lives: “If you leave something behind you gain something too.“ I couldn't agree more with this. 
• From Barbie: “I’m a man with no power. Does that make me a woman?” Indeed. 

As I get ready to go back home a second time this year, I am grinning in melancholy about what other adventures will await the second time around, as I have looked back at these memories from earlier in the year ... Life is a never-ending surprise, and it will fill you with wonders if you’re ready to welcome them ... 

Blowing Rock, NC. Mountain Charm. Timeless Flair.

When I lived in North Carolina my first time around, before 2010, because I lived closer to it, Blowing Rock used to be my favorite day-trip destination. I would drive up there for the day from Greensboro, have lunch at The Speckled Trout, then walk about the town, up and down the main street, pop in and out of all the cute little stores, check out the newest local art, try to spot the newest China merchandise that traps any tourist in any American town that sees themselves as a destination, get an ice cream at Kilwins, then head on down the mountain come dinner time. 

A little spot for peace in downtown Blowing Rock: a children's prayer garden

Now, living about an hour  further away, we visit The Crown of the Blue Ridge, as it’s known, much less often. But it still beckons us back from time to time, like it did this weekend. 

These are some of the observations I have made of  an old friend, and of the world as we see it today as we’re travelers through it ... In no particular order ... 

This had to be the least busy holiday weekend I have ever experienced anywhere, but definitely in the North Carolina mountains. We could not figure it out, but all restaurants had open seats (we’re used to driving up there for the holiday weekend and ending up eating fast food or bar food at a bar that still wants people to drink but doesn’t have much to offer by way of food). We hardly needed a reservation anywhere. 

The scenic ride slope at Beech Mountain was almost empty. No lines at all. When we pulled into the parking lot, we counted no more than 20 cars, I’d say. They have three parking lots, but even the one closest to the slope seemed completely empty ... I was sure the resort would be  closed. 

Riding a scenic chairlift in the summer in the mountains is the one activity I look forward to every year. This year, we finally managed to get to it at the very end of summer. It was worth the wait ...

Beech Mountain was open, in fact, but the tavern at the bottom of the slope seemed totally empty, outside of the few occupied tables on their patio. The pub at the top of the mountain had most tables full but the fact that we found a table to sit at at all should tell you they were not very busy. Last time we went, on a non-holiday, summer weekend it was standing-room only both inside and out. There was no one inside this time around. No music playing either, which made it seem even more grim and lonely than the slim crowd. 

Back in the olden, olden days of my trips up the mountain, if I went for an overnight trip, I would equally patronize both Cheeseburgers in Paradise, a hole-in-the-wall burger joint that made a great chicken salad, and The Speckled Trout that made the best trout anywhere on the Parkway. Cheeseburgers in Paradise closed what seems to be a century ago, with the place sitting there, in the heart of downtown, in the busiest intersection of Blowing Rock, empty, falling in disrepair, hurting my soul with every visit, year after year after year. 

But on this trip, it was nice to see that the place took on a brand-new life, and someone loved and cared for the old spot, along other adjacent plots downtown as they now constructed the brand-new and very welcoming hotel Embers. It is where we hung our hats and it was a beautiful experience. The place is clean, welcoming, laid back and full of little gems in the shape of good food, delicious cocktails, and an extremely friendly staff. It was so nice to see history evolving and the town stepping into its next chapter with this new venture downtown. 

The Embers Hotel in downtown Blowing Rock

The Speckled Trout is still as happening as ever - probably the only place where you did still need reservations during this not-so-busy weekend. The wait is still North of an hour for a table and they can only seat you outside with no reservations, and people were taking the outside tables, even when it was pouring out. The trout itself is not what it used to be here - you don’t get a full trout anymore, like in the olden days, and the sides are not just simple baked potatoes, corn on the cob, or steamed veggies ... You have more ‘fancy’ offerings now, like vegan fennel and potato salad, smoked gouda grits, or summer succotash salad. I still visit the place with every visit, just for the good ol’ time’s sake and just because they still serve trout (you’d think they should forever. It’s in their name, after all.) and trout is hard to find, surprisingly, even in mountain towns. 

The cornmeal crusted trout dish at Speckled Trout

Outside The Speckled Trout, the busiest place in Blowing Rock is Camp Coffee Roasters - the line is flowing out into the street at any given time of the day, but those kids who work there know what they’re doing - I thought for sure it would take us an hour to get in and out. It took a bit less than 20 minutes. I guess they time it since you can only park in front of their store for 30 minutes at a time. 

The view from Camp Coffee Roasters towards The Speckled Trout and Embers hotel - across the street

Before we got up the mountain, we toured a couple of wineries in the Yadkin Valley, and then visited another one in the mountains on our second day. 

The gorgeous furnishings at Castello Barone Vineyards and Winery in Yadkin Valley

We love finding little places that do so much to (almost literally) squeeze the sweetness and the richness out of the North Carolina soil to make good products that illustrate the uniqueness or our landscape and climate ... We love talking to the winemakers who, so proudly, showcase their elixirs. It’s always an experience to be shared. Midnight Magdalena, Castello Barone in the Yadkin Valley and Eagles Nest Winery outside Beech Mountain were new findings for us. Featuring mostly dry wines (North Carolina is humid and wet which typically yields dryer varieties, we learned), they were oases of hospitality and good taste. Eagles Nest is hidden deep into the woods of The Smokies. There is no highway sign for it, and you have to kinda trust your maps to take you there. Once you get there, though, the log cabin feel and the gorgeous landscape will render you shocked, mouth-agape. It’s like coming home. You feel the mountains around you just casting a great, warm hug around you, and welcoming you in. 

The beautiful setting at the Eagles Nest Winery, outside Beech Mountain

The wines here, though, are hardly local, being all raised in California, and just mixed and bottled on site, so they’re  a little bit of a fraud, you can say, but they are good wines, and the place is still worth visiting for a moment of respite, a slice of fresh pizza and a cold glass of wine, even semi-imported/ local ... 

There were some low notes during our trip, too. 

The beauty of the setting at Timberlake Restaurant in the Chetola resort is in stark contrast to the poor service and the lesser quality of the food served there, I am sad to say. Kids working in hospitality nowadays need to learn how to use proper words anymore (doesn’t everyone in today’s age of AI when anything we read or write is filled-out for us?). When I tell a young waitress that my order got screwed up and I list at least three things wrong with it and the answer I get is a friendly, chipper, uplifting “Oh, perfect!” followed by a smile - it makes one wonder if anything is being processed on the other end ... 

The serene and peaceful setting of The Timberlake restaurant

We always notice people with kids, and as childless folks, we notice how from day to day, from year to year, kids are more and more close to monkeys and parents are further and further disconnected from any responsibility of raising them. I always say: stop having them or learn how to parent. Filling up the world with screaming, entitled brats is hardly optimistic for our future. Don’t know. Maybe it’s my aging, ornery self, who knows?! 

Although the whole experience was wonderful, as we partook in good foods, good drinks, and great conversations with strangers everywhere, I think the highlight for me was just being in the mountains. Driving on an empty Blue Ridge was my favorite pastime - just seeing no one coming around the curve, and not being rushed by anyone behind us, looking over the (still) bright, green mountains, half in a smoky mist and half clear, breathing in the strong mountain air from our room’s patio were what we drive three and a half hours for - just to take in the mountains and recharge the batteries for the next season. 

Some things will linger for a while: the new-place smell at The Embers, the sticky floors from busy wear and tear at The Speckled Trout, the inexperience of the staff at The Timberlake, the easy-go-lucky staff at Beech Mountain, the super friendly and jack-of-all-trades bartender, Everett, at The Embers bar, the timelessness of the stores that line the Blowing Rock sidewalks year after year, the smell of pines after the rain, the warm cups of coffee at Camp Coffee Roasters, the friendliest hotel receptionist, Stacy, at The Embers ... and all the screaming kids of the world, too ...

Some things are new, some thing are timeless. The world is a mixed bag of nuts; you take the salt with the sugar and you make a nice snack; but whatever you do, don’t stop getting out there and getting your life going, seeing and learning new things. 

The view from the top of Beech Mountain, after the chairlift ride

My Sister. My Rock.

The one thing I vividly remember from when we were growing up is mom’s constant reminder that we must love each other. She used to warn us that one day, when she and dad were no longer with us or able to care for us, we would have no one left but each other. 

She would tell me it’s my job to care for you when she is not around, and she and dad both made it my responsibility to be a good example for you. They said that because I am older, I need to learn things right so you can easily emulate me, and not lead you to do wrong. Talk about dodging parental responsibility, eh?! 

I tried my best to be all that. But in the past couple of years since we have lost so much of our parents, literally and otherwise, I have felt like the roles have reversed. I have felt like you are the one I come to for advice and strength, for keeping my mind together and quieting down my tachycardiac heart and my shaking hands. 

I have always been the one with all the answers until it was time go parent our parents. That’s when you, the ultimate, most devoted, loving, caring and selfless parent I know, became my parent and adviser. 

I thank God every day that He made you and I thank Him twice that He made you my sister. 

I love you now more than yesterday and definitely less than tomorrow. 

My heart is full to see what a beautiful life you’ve built, my baby sister, and it is also anxious to see what follows! 

Have the best day ever! Cannot wait to see you soon. I miss your hugs the most when we’re apart! 

From another summer, a long time ago

Sweet 16

I just finished reading the blog post I wrote the day you were born (https://wander-world.blogspot.com/2008/04/from-heart.html). And this reminds me: you are part of this generation that lived your entire life on the internet. Between blogs and Facebook and Instagram and Snapchat - your life has been thoroughly documented somewhere ... 

There is not much more to say that has not been shown or said, is there?! Only you make sure that there is ... You are a growing boy - a boy? Not anymore. But not quite a man yet, to paraphrase a famous song. A growing boy (to me, you’ll always be a boy) with endless resources to grow, surprise, learn, shock, inform, and remind us that there is no boring minute when you’re watching a child come of age. So, there is so much more to say, still! 

Today, you are reaching a milestone. There was one year, and then three, and then five, and then seven, and ten. And now, it’s 16. It’s that sweet but also bitter time when you want to hang on to your innocence but life and people have other plans for you. You had small bites of real life so far, but they were more or less spent under the watchful eyes of your parents and family. From now on, you will need to figure out how to look for life opportunities and show us what you’ve learned. Will you remember everything we taught you? Will you know when to apply all the teachings we’ve all imparted so you can make better choices than we ever made?!  Time will have to tell and we’re waiting with baited breath for you to show us ... 

I hope that you’ll never lose your sense of humor, fun and partly your innocence, but that you’ll be able to also make really good and everlasting choices starting today. I hope that you will slowly but surely come into your own mature self - into a good, serious, reliable, and more than anything kind human being. I truly hope so ... I truly wish you so ... 

On this celebratory day, I am grateful for every minute I have ever spent in the past 16 years thinking and praying for you, and for every minute we spent together ... We never know what will come, but I always cherish what we already have: 

My wedding day ...

Watching you learn woodworking and teaching you knitting ....

Watching you cook  your first breakfast... 

Making your own art ... (I wish you’d remember your talent!) ... 

Writing your first computer game ... (yeah, whatever happened to that?!) ... 

Crossing Lake Ontario to Toronto Island together in search of peace ...

Touring Casa Loma ... 

Taking you to your first dip into the Atlantic Ocean when we were barely a year old ... 

You introducing me to beaver tails (you created a monster!) ... 

I’ll always have these memories, and more: taking you to your first baseball game, musical, and your first spinning restaurant. And not to forget: watching our first ever total solar eclipse together - surely a first and who knows - maybe the only one. 

You might never be a little boy with Spiderman facepaint in the middle of summer ever again - but I hope we will always continue to build memories together, small treasures of boxed time that we can cherish forever ... 

I wish you all the happiness in the world, but more than that - I wish you wisdom and kindness! With them, happiness will come. 

Happy birthday, sweet Pat! Enjoy your day and may the new year ahead be the best one yet! Here’s to strong, peaceful, happy beginnings! 

Much love ... 

I treasure every face, I remember every year, looking forward for more milestones to come ...

49 on 4-9 (2024)

As I start the last year of my fourth decade, I unavoidably look back at my life so far and wonder what I have learned, if anything. Was it all worthwhile so far? Who would be able to be the judge of that? 

If I were to name my decades, it would go something like this: 10-Waking Up; 20-Coming of Age; 30-Finding Love; 40-Growing Up. That’s right. Sometimes you’ve got to live for 49 years (sometimes more) before you feel like you’ve grown up. So, kids, there is no rush! 

Some things I now know for sure:  having a bad hair day is really,  usually, the least of your worries; some people, friends and blood relatives alike, will not only let you down, but they will rip your heart right out of your chest, put it through the grinder and chuck it in the road to be run over by all traffic, over and over again forever; and there is no damn thing you can do about that, other than learn from it and move on; time is never ever wasted when you spend it watching a sunset, a sunrise or when making conversation with a kitten cat; try every food, even if you're gonna spit it out; if someone invites you on a trip somewhere you’ve always wanted to go, and you have $30 in your bank account, pull out a credit card and charge it, but go, nonetheless. It will be worth it. Come to think of it: always keep a working credit card with enough room on it to splurge for a random present for yourself or the next impromptu trip. Always! 

No trip, no travel is ever wasted, even when encountering the worst experiences (and still remaining alive to tell the story). Nothing allows you to grow into a better, more alert, smarter, more compassionate, richer human being than travel. Embrace it, learn to love it. It’ll be your ticket out of yourself and into a bigger, more fulfilled, rounder, more flavorful and colorful world. Every. Single. Time.

I am 49 today. The good doctors of 1983 Romania were sure I am not going to ever see 26, or even get out of my teens. You do not understand the gratitude, the sheer high that comes out with this accomplishment, unless you’ve lived it. 

Another thing I know for sure now is that you must listen to your doctors, but you also must always question them and check the science for yourself. They know the books, but only you know you. Ask, challenge, understand. These are no crimes. These are signs that you love yourself. Loving yourself is not a crime. (OK, in all honesty, I am still working on this one!) 

Sometimes the smallest flowers are the show stoppers and the breath-takers. I’d take one freesia over 1000 roses every day of the week. 

I love willows the best out of all the trees, for their humility.

Your step will get heavier, your bones will get stiffer, your medicine strengths will increase, your smile will require a higher threshold to show, but whatever you do, don’t ever stop moving forward. Whatever you do, do not settle. Whatever you do, do not stop and do not go back. Whatever you do, look forward to the next day, the next breath, the next challenge. Live loudly, even if it’s just loud enough for you. You don’t need an audience to celebrate. 

This last decade kicked my butt in many ways - it started with open-heart surgery at 40, and it pulled me kicking and screaming through finding my new normal with a new heart, seeing one parent survive cancer while collapsing under another more dehumanizing disease later on (yeah, really!), through the Covid years and losing my mentor, longest love of my life, my dad, among other losses. 

And yet, I know that I always want more. I humbly am grateful for the lessons and for this rebel and stubborn resilience, and am ready for more.

I know for sure that the crooked, uneven, twisted ways of life are so much more fun than the straight and narrow. So much more colorful. And I am a better, kinder, stronger person because of them. I also know that my great-grandma was right: no matter where we go, no matter what we go through or accomplish, we are all poor and alone at the end. Just like we came into this life. There is some letdown in this but also some comfort. 

One last thing I know for sure: no matter how much you hate surprises, when a loved one throws you a surprise birthday party, embrace it, cherish every moment of it and do not argue with them. There will come sooner than you think yet another birthday where you’d give your right arm to have one more birthday with that person, surprise or otherwise, and it’ll be too late. 

More than anything: be thankful. Painfully, blood-knuckled, giant-tears-bawling-eyed, desperately, thankful. For everything and everyone who got you here … 

Quebec City, Canada - even on a twisty year, never saying no to travel …