ON THE ROAD

Be careful what you wish for...

2011-11-16T12:24:00.000-08:00

On the move...again, almost there, like a wave you see approaching knowing it will drag you away. I could stay indeed, I love Barcelona, I moved here because I wanted to, I made my choice out of all the cities in Europe, this part of the world that makes me feel I belong.

And still, when I found out at the end of July that I was offered my dream job in a city I am also very fond of I said YES without giving it a second thought. The second thoughts came afterwards and it wasn't easy not to change my mind. I actually did, every day, looking around me at this charming city so comfortably nested between the mountains and the sea and wondering why shall I exchange the good with the better. When I first heard that the organization I work for opened offices in Barcelona I wished I could get a job there, it was rather wishful thinking, as I was still in Canada at the time. Then, before leaving Montreal, I wrote to a public institution that was also on top of my interest list, I was offered an interview as soon as I got home, with no consequences, I thought.

Then I moved to the city of my Mediterranean dreams. After struggling, with dignity, for eight months in Barcelona, having some interesting interviews that ended up in nothing, I finally got one in the international organization I was interested in since 2008. And right after the last interview I left for another one with the person who interviewed me one year prior, this time it was a concrete proposition.

Surprisingly enough, back in Barcelona I got the first job I wished for, not exactly the position I would have liked, but it was still something incredible to me, to work in a palace in the middle of a pine and palm trees park, full of green parrots and with a few ponds for the comfort of the resident ducks. Spending my day in an international multilingual environment, very enriching, with nice people around, organizing every few months meetings with representatives from a whole range of countries and cultures, around a very ambitious and generous project. Like a fish in the water. Or a duck?

Then, boom! four months after I started working I even got to make a choice. I have a theory about contemporary stress and anxiety being generated in great part by the variety of choices, from yogurt to a suitable life partner. So here I was, trying to decide what's best for me: I love both cities, one is bathed by warm waters, the other by cold ones; in Barcelona I have some nice new friends, there I have guaranteed lifetime friends, that received me with open arms after 13 years of absence, a few handwritten letters, postcards and emails. The job, well, the other job, that I will take in January, is what I always wanted to do, organize and promote cultural events, so I could join my expertise to my private interests. A beautiful challenge...that after all I could not avoid, it's stronger than me, as usual. I love change and change stresses me, but I simply don't take comfort as the best thing I could have. And I have comfort in Barcelona, even more than the city I love its geographic position, the closeness to the Pyrenees, to France, the Mediterranean embrace that created the amazing landscapes of Costa Brava. I will miss my beach afternoons and twilight swims, the hikes, the possibility to get abroad in three hours by train (last Saturday I passed from Spain to France and from France to Spain once in train and three times on foot). Otherwise, as a city, my next destination has its own undeniable spells to cast.

I shall be very very careful from now on with what I wish, either I meet the little gold fish or not, he might be under disguise.

WHAT'S GOING ON

2011-10-04T12:28:00.000-07:00

The financial/ economic crisis is still rising and we don't seem to know the way out yet. People go with the flow, protest a little, live and work, party and have sex, going on with their lives, according to the means. I hear some of them around me complaining about their low (actually not so low) salaries, their social&professional position, the importance of their personal development, the value of their studies and knowledge. On top of it, we are accustomed to the welfare state, to go out, to satisfy our whims, eat in restaurants, drink and dance the night away, dress well and go shopping according to the season's fashion, take care of our feet, nails, hair, skin. And boom! a lot of us lost part of these privileges, that are seen as part of a normal, ordinary life, middle class routine.

Let's put it plainly, comfort (read hedonism) became our ideal in life, and our society is packed with personal development gurus, life coaches and counselors on how to become prosper and happy . The self rules: self-help, self-development, self-fulfillment, self-awareness, self-esteem, self-assurance, not forgetting the oh, so sweet!, self-reward. Love thyself first. This should be your daily thought "I deserve the best and my purpose in life is to get it". As soon as we miss something we feel unfulfilled. If we don't get the perfect job (including a matching salary), the ideal husband, the house of our dreams, we feel that our life is not complete and therefore we can't be happy. Because we are all taught that we are exceptional individuals and we have to struggle to achieve better and better and better and better... Companies produce more, many of them in other faraway countries, eventually overworking and underpaying the workers, so we can consume more, filling the inner void with objects of desire.

Our parents and grandparents did what they could in most cases, what the society conditioned them to do. They were raised with the idea that they should get married and build a family, didn't plan on how many children they should have and just struggled to maintain the family without thinking that much at their self development and personal growth. The main purpose was to raise the children and lead a decent life, giving something back to the society if they were richer. Lonely artists and scientists were eccentric exceptions. Of course, I am aware of the advantages of our freshly acquired freedom, especially when it comes to women (it wasn't too bad in the Roman Empire either). But I also think that this wild individualism with a strong hedonist orientation is not taking us too close to a peaceful mind and a serene soul. Learning to live with less and rely more on ourselves and less on things would do the trick.

I am no exception, I search for pleasure as much as everyone else, while I am trying to exert some self-criticism and keep it under control at the same time.

GENTLY SETTLING AND DRAWING LINES

2011-07-13T09:24:00.000-07:00

A few months more since my last post and there are so many changes I contemplate now from a short time distance.

No. 1: I managed to get a stable job, after a one year not-easy-to-live-with gap. I work in a park inside of a palace, with a big window that lets in the sun, the chirping of the birds, the smell of resin in the heat. When I look outside I only see the various shades of green of the many types of pine trees trying to reach the sky. At lunch time I can have a half an hour break reading in the shade, eventually looking at the cotorras argentinas or the urracas. The ducklings I saw a few months ago swimming in the ponds and fountains are now as big as momma duck. My fellow workers are fun and kind, almost all of us get along nicely and I get to use almost all my languages on a daily basis. At the beginning of July I had to organize a reunion of about fifty government experts coming from 21 countries from Europe, North Africa and Middle East, everything went very smoothly and my department head thanked me in front of everyone at the end of the meeting. My writing skills were also put to work for the final public information text. So all together I feel useful and well treated. I was never extremely ambitious and the more I grow inside, the more I learn how to enjoy and be thankful for the good side of things in my life.

No. 2: My stand-by relationship got to a very inglorious cold end after my Cuban (future) ex paid me a one week visit enclosed in a six weeks trip to Spain. We started talking about marriage and a common future here and somehow on the way I realized that for one whole year I was floating in a beautiful and fragile soap bubble that suddenly broke and let me fall on the hard evidence that after all distance and time torn us apart. We were and we are very different, in terms of background and lifestyle, and this year our ways split to the point of no return. It was an emotional break for me, that I had to cope with after he left, that very moment was very short and I didn’t realize what was happening, that it was the last time we were seeing each other as a couple. When I left Canada and we said good-bye in the airport, there was sudden pain and many doubts about doing the right thing or not. It was a separation between two people that were in love and shared a home. It still hurts to know that the three years we were together and the one year of waiting and hoping were reduced merely to memories in no time. But at least I know there is no other way, it was a fine, sharp and clean cut, I can almost imagine a steel blade, guillotine style that suddenly falls and leaves no shreds.

No. 3: I managed to move from my cage aux folles, the Romanian run home, crowded and filled with cigarette smoke and too many times with strong cooking smells. My room was nice though and they were good people, but living in a different bubble. Now I stay in the same Sagrada Familia neighbourhood, on a street that bears the name of one of my favourite cities and above my tree level balcony there’s a blue metal plate that reads “La Ciudad de Buenos Aires”. I share with a nice Catalan girl who’s almost like a younger sister to me, and her dog, Ganja, a lovely half-blind and extremely affectionate cocker. The sitting room is big enough to be able to invite people for dinner again. When I wake up in the morning and I open my door, instead of cigarette smoke there’s Ganja happily wagging her piece of tail waiting to be cuddled.

No. 4: Last but not least, I managed to start moving around (one of the main reasons for coming back to mother Europe) and go visit friends in Lisbon and Toulouse that I have not seen for 13 and 15 years respectively. I was received with the utmost generosity, more like a long lost parent than like a friend that’s been away. Their home was my home and I was moved to tears to find out once more that friendship after all is probably the most beautiful and deep thing in my life.

Lisbon was celebrating the national day and Santo Antonio, the streets were blooming with colourful decorations and the smell of grilled sardines filled the hot air. On Saturday night I went alone to a fado concert set inside the Sao Jorge castle on the hill, overlooking the Tejo estuary under the stars. Besides, the city is as beautiful as ever and I got to visit other spots in this small and charming country by the ocean: Alcochete, Montemor-o-Novo, Evora, Cabo da Roca. Fabulous blue, green and pink (roofs) landscapes, great food, not to mention the company…so I’m going back in August, to spend more time with my Portuguese soul sisters and keep discovering the Lusitanian hidden treasures.

Toulouse, la ville rose aux bords de la Garonne, en plein Midi, with amazing Gothic buildings still standing up, especially le Monastère des Jacobins (I have a special weakness for cloisters) and the scrumptious French desserts. Not far, on the shores of the Tarn, there's Albi, home of Toulouse-Lautrec, dominated by its high episcopal palace and the Ste. Cecile cathedral, masterpieces of pink brick Gothic, so far from the cold gray stones that usually served as building material.

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I am at a point in life where I dreamed and wanted to be ten years ago, is it still the same, am I able to enjoy it and appreciate as much as I would have then? I won some things and lost some things on the way, I’m a little stronger, a little emptier, a little wiser and even bitterer and less ready to believe in the beauty of things and expect the unexpected. But the sense of balance is here; my life is in Barcelona now. Although, after changing places quite a few times, I know nothing, no one and nowhere is for life, there´s no real security in anything, and that’s probably close to the Buddhist teachings about accepting change and transiency as unavoidable. I feel peace, there's only love missing.

Perspective

2011-03-06T14:40:00.001-08:00

My grand grandparents: two World Wars, a financial crisis and an incipient communist dictatorship;

My grandparents: financial crisis, one World War and almost 45 years of dictatorship;

My parents: communist dictatorship, a never ending transition and this financial crisis;

Me: 15 years of communist dictatorship and 20 years of transition to the crisis time.

Really, so far I think I am luckier than the preceding generations!

Toys for grown-ups or how about slowing down a little

2011-02-21T01:21:00.000-08:00

I had the opportunity to work at World Mobile Congress by mid-February. It looked quite interesting for a global research about nowadays "civilised" society. A research about how addicted we are to technology and its gadgets, to the point of getting to ignore what surrounds us.

I made my mobile phone contract with Movistar a few months ago, over the phone, at a time when my number belonged to another company.Lady Bermudez, the customer service employee who attended me, wanted me to choose my ideal phone from a whole list of technical marvels. Smart phone or BlackBerry, I could have chosen any of them to be included in my contract. Or maybe not any, I don't know much about these things. For me telephones are what their name says: telecommunications devices that transmit and receive sound, most commonly the human voice. (according to Wikipedia). And to Merriam-Webster too, pretty much the same definition. Britannica says: an instrument designed for the simultaneous transmission and reception of the human voice.

Apparently mobile phones are a whole different story, they transmit voice, video and data. You can play games on them, find your way, send and receive money, and God and telecommunications engineers know what. Sincerely, I feel more carefree and free in general with a phone that only serves its original purpose, to talk. I'm not very fond of text messages either as I am more at ease with computers, that offer me the same dimensions, more or less, as a letter size sheet of paper. And I prefer to read on paper rather than on computer screens as I like e-mails more than chat, for allowing me to develop my ideas at a different pace. At the end of the day it looks like it's more a question of time and space: speed and text size. I'd rather go slow than fast and rather long than short. Most probably I belong to the paper cultureand I get addicted to technology applications that remind me of it. Obviously, I am not a busy business person. From their point of view I totally agree with the necessity of smart phones.

Now, back to the congress. At some point I was at a welcome desk and the three girls around me were busy with their phones, buttoning and reading the screen. I felt like an alien, or rather like a normal flesh and bone person among aliens, the busy business world. But somehow I felt comfortably so, floating in my bubble, free to watch the beautiful museum hall and observe the people around me, ready to make eye contact and welcome them when necessary. At the congress a whole pavilion was dedicated only to applications, Skype had a stand there, a free coffee bar, tables with phones and even mini-computers/over-sized phone screens from where you could call anywhere in the world for free. Google Android had a whole stand for itself in the hall where I worked every day. It looked like a fun park, all green, with a big slide and huge Android toy like replicas everywhere. There were green fruity candies in all congress locations, at the stand they were giving away pins and fruity smoothies named after Android features, the litchi-honey one was called Honeycomb for instance. There were also Gingerbread and Donut flavours. They were also giving away mini-Androids designed by Andrew Bell, on the box one could read that it was an art object and not a toy, recommended for 15+. All together most places looked very colourful and had great visual impact, with lots of big screen and different types of projections. It was hard to believe it was all about this small personal device we all use.

On the last day I went out for a beer with a friend and a guy at a bar had a funny fluffy toy bird, looking like a plush ball. I asked him if it's a grown-up toy and he was amazed that I didn't know what the Angry Birds are, and even more so when I told him I use my phone only for talking. It reminded me of my Canadian boss at the Hilton in Romania who couldn't believe that I had no idea what Macy's was or what an amazing Christmas parade they had. Our cultural references seem to move farther and farther away from the word culture, or the meaning me personally I give to it.

Giving all this a common sense I would say we are becoming more and more addicted to toys and technology gadgets, absorbed by our phones and computers, finding harder to get closer to people in more direct and simple ways. All these games and applications make us less observant, lazier, dependent on accessories that are not really a necessity, but that we consider so and feel lost and nervous without. We are also becoming more selfish, less responsible and responsive, behaving like big kids, for whom entertainment is their main interest. Obviously we become easier to manipulate too. And to me here is the clue, to transform us in a crowd willing to work more so we can consume and play more, without any deeper thoughts.

Between 2010 and 2011

2011-01-26T13:59:00.000-08:00

Barcelona (Montjuïc)

Bucarest (from the plane)

I had a two months break which haven't brought many news. The winter cold joined to the lack of general heating in most Barcelona homes tempered my initial enthusiasm that gave way to reason and pondering. Against all odds my good mood stands still, facing the gloomy situation. I live with little, but enough for housing, food and going out every now and then. I suffer for having lost my routine, soon there will be a year since then. Mornings are terrible, I stopped enjoying having them to myself, I need to be active, to have something to do, somewhere to go to , that's not the library or the seaside. Nevertheless, I can't stop enjoying Barcelona, disfrutar is a good word. Just the way you enjoy an exquisite meal, Thai for instance, every bite it's an opportunity to savour the different flavours reaching perfection.

Luckily enough, I go on with my Catalan classes three times a week and my poetry group performances, which got great press coverage lately, partly due to my efforts to get in touch with the local newspapers and people interested in poetry. I keep meeting fantastic motivating people and this keeps me convinced that I made the right choice, even if my job search seems a neverending job itself.

Even the apartment I live in now it's a life lesson per se, I found an announcement in the Romanian goodies shop. I love my room, it has a balcony , the light I was longing for and enough space for a desk, beside the big bed and the huge closet (plenty of place for all my skeletons). My roommates are the most unusual I've ever had, they belong to the Romanian working class and came here from different smaller cities, like many others, to make money they invest in housing in our beloved country that we don't live in. Or to bring half of their family here, if it's the case. So they don't care much about going out or doing things, as they care about saving to the limit. Enjoying life is a strange concept to them. They're people I had very tiny chances to meet anywhere else but here and now. It's touching and a bit scary at the same, to see how different we are, and to notice that I am so lucky after all to have studied and traveled the world. Having enriching friends and relationships and good interesting jobs on top of it.

Christmas home was delightful, after 6 years of absence at this time of the year. And still, the gray Bucharest, the general feeling of laisser-aller that reigns in the streets and most public spaces filled me with sadness and disgust. Even the Health Insurance Bucharest headquarters were a shameful mess, bordering an area of dull apartment buildings and humble houses where street dogs still roam dangerously free. On the other side the first shopping mall that opened in 2000, Bucharest being the same patchwork of miserable baroque post-communist post-modern post-civilised world. I managed to feel the season's joy only by leaving the outside behind the closed doors, sharing with very special friends and close to my family, now richer with my sister's new born son. Although I don't have a home there in Romania anymore, our home is now rented and I had to run between four houses at some point, looking for my winter clothes, staying over with mom and visiting my sister and the baby. In a way it's better to know that somehow I cut my way back, didn't I always wanted to live by the Mediterranean, cradle of European civilizations and cultures? Well, here I am, now I have to live up to it, or better said, to work out my place here.

The Europe without borders, now and then

2010-12-05T13:50:00.000-08:00

I got the idea of this brief posting when I saw in the Prado Museum the portrait of Isaac H. Sequiera, made by Thomas Gainsborough, whose doctor he was. Born in Portugal in a Jewish family, he emigrated to Bordeaux and studied medicine in Leyden, Holland, getting to settle in London where the portrait was made.

I found it weird when some people wonder how comes I lived and traveled so much in more than a country. Or when they affirm the world has changed, with this continuous movement beyond borders. Since the antiquity, merchants, scholars, warriors and explorers/adventurers have traveled extensively, looking for either wealth, knowledge or distraction. Artists, monks and mercenaries for instance were very active since the Middle Ages.

A great example is Saint Anthony, known as "of Padua", who was actually born in Lisbon. Even professionals like Dr. Sequiera changed places many times. Not to speak about artists, Caravaggio, Da Vinci, Ribera being but a few. There was no tourism, as we understand it now, traveling without an exact purpose, just for the sake of sightseeing and spending money elsewhere. I guess it's during the XIX century when it became very fashionable for the wealthy classes, especially for people from the Northern European countries to go South to France and Italy, extending later to Spain and Portugal. Not even the Erasmus student exchange programme is such a novelty; when universities were founded there were very few, so people who wanted to study had to travel far for that.

Briefly, the ways to travel changed, but traveling is still the same.

No November rain

2010-11-14T10:25:00.000-08:00

Barcelona, full of sun, full of colours, a few warm autumn shades here and there. I was in Madrid for a job interview, it had a stronger autumn smell, matching the season's foliage, more obvious than here. I look at my photographs from last year's hike in Vermont, the trees branches were already nude and the mountains turned brown. It seems like ages ago, so faraway, in a different life. And still, I feel a little nostalgic when I think about the firtrees smell and the bright blue lakes. Nostalgic and grateful for all the great moments I spent there.

Today I went for another hike through the Collserola area, less green and dustier, more urbanized, but still pretty woods.

Life is made of different patchwork like places, people and experiences, what matters is to know nothing is forever, you have to let go when you can't hold on. And be grateful for what you get, I am probably one of the luckiest people I know.

Tourist 2.0

2010-10-27T16:38:00.000-07:00

Barcelona beyond Sagrada Familia, Ramblas, Parc Guell, Mila and Batllo houses.

Monasterio de Pedralbes

Hospital de Sant Pau i Santa Creu, by my favourite architect, Lluis Domenech i Montaner

Sarria neighbourhood, under Tibidabo - former hotel, former clinic, possibly a future office building

Teatre Grec garden with some nice neighbourhood people who just came to play and sing some rumba catalana and flamenco, a sunny Sunday afternoon

Lingering

2010-10-06T11:54:00.001-07:00

No time to waste, no time to linger, precious moments of intense activity until you drop dead. Working, seeing people, watching films, cooking, always doing something, keeping crazy busy. Having the cell and Internet always at hand. Too busy to think.

These months of laziness and zen attitude fed my soul alright for the times to come, beyond the tears and the doubts. I feel like a dot under an exclamation point, complying only with the fact of existing. Life is so complicated, applying for jobs, using rigid words to express your professional exceptionality, trying to find a dignified subject for a PhD thesis, when it could be so simple - this is what I know, this is what I can do, take it or leave it, just don't make me wrap it and sell it. Sometimes my hands are restless, I enjoy cooking and ironing, I regret not having learned a manual profession, something with a practical meaning, really useful. A words' child is clinging to relativity itself.

The other day a hostel receptionist was explaining me how bad it is to live in Catalunya and that he would consider moving to Canada. I think that anyone that hasn't lived in another country would think his is the best, or the worst of all, not appreciating its positive sides. And it's always a very personal choice, that involves taking risks, again, not something everyone would do. There are always miscalculations that you have to take the philosophical way. I didn't realize that my Canadian Master of Arts degree needed to be legalized in Spain because there is no bilateral agreement. As Maître Pangloss used to say Tout est pour le mieux dans le meilleur des mondes possibles.

Catalunya is amazingly beautiful, joining the Pyrenees with the Mediterranean. It's drier and less green than Romania or Canada, but we can't have it all, right? Spain was a target when I was 20, then I first visited Italy which got me under its spell. Now Costa Brava conquered my senses with its crystal clear cool waters guarded by the yellowish green hills that form long bays all along the shoreline, up to the French border. Living on the shores of the Mediterranean has been an old dream of mine and like every dream becoming real it has its price, which I cannot even evaluate right now.

Waiting room overlooking the Mediterranean

2010-09-02T12:49:00.000-07:00

The Germans have a saying: Alle Anfang ist schwer - all beginnings are hard. Starting over for the umpty umpth time at almost thirty six (well, one day away by now) is certainly hard for me. And I wonder how smart it was to stay home in Bucharest for five months, as it broke my heart leaving the house I grew up in, that in end I was sharing with barely my cat. Certainly, I have a strong affinity with Spanish culture, I am eager to learn more about Catalunya and I've always dreamed to live close to the Mediterranean, this space where cultures met, clashed and eventually mixed. The trendy and touristy Barcelona certainly doesn't attract me at all, but I am fascinated by its long history and beautiful imaginative buildings. Besides, it's a very functional city, where transports and cleaning work pretty well, and so far people seem to be very nice and helpful, from the bank clerk who gave me visitor information when I went to open my account, to the people who explained me thoroughly the annual celebration - Festa Major, of the sea town Sitges.

I have a strange feeling of being in the right place at the right time, although the job market is a mess, and at the same time I can tell I won't be staying here forever, my guess is that I will move further South, in Spain or another country. But for now I have to stay and learn some new life lessons here. The six months since I left my last job start to weigh on me, I need to keep myself busy, and not exactly entertained, that wouldn't be enough, and it requires money too. Since I came three weeks ago everything has fallen into place, except medical insurance, which depends on my social status: student, worker or no income person. The PhD programme won't start until October and jobs are hard to get, there are many Spaniards and Europeans in competition, although my knowledge of languages and international studies and experience are good assets.

I miss my cat, I wish I could bring her over as soon as possible, but my roomie, who happens to be nice, is allergic at animal hair. At least it's easy to make new friends, I tried the Meetup groups of interest and they work well here too, I can't wait to go hiking this Saturday and the next whole week-end. Nature and art are my best friends when the dark thoughts overcome my enthusiasm.

Seacily - Into the blue

2010-07-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

Pretty Cefalù, dominated by the Norman Duomo

Even if I had any expectations, I have to admit Sicily went far beyond them, like in any other country that sits below a scorching sun, everything there borders the superlative. On the positive and the negative side, true, but exercising an irresistible attraction, maybe also because I have a weakness for ports and islands. We spent nine full days there without seeing a cloud. The sun makes things look brighter, but also blurred, their contours fading in the hot trembling air. A feast of colours and hard to bear heat.

Beautiful sea, deep blue skies, the silhouette of Etna with its 3350m dominating it surroundings, delicious food - arguably the best ice cream on the planet, history, art and creativity beyond the wildest imagination. Who would believe there is such a thing as Arabian - Norman architecture? Or that the poets at Norman kings court in the XII century were Arabs, while the administrative language was still Greek, until the immigrants from the continent finally latinized the island? Sicily is more than a border between continents, it is a gate, an interstitial space where the richness of exchanges crosses over centuries reaching our time.

Its history is as intricate as the Arab and Byzantine mosaics adorning its churches and cathedrals, as inexplicable as the amazing combination of architectural elements coming from all ages of art. An emirate, then a kingdom, or sitting under imperial powers, a pure mixture claiming its own identity of many cultures. Once part of Magna Graecia, now part of the Republic of Italy, still holding some autonomy, having its own legislative assembly. Sicani and Siculi to start with, then Phoenicians, Puns, Greeks, Romans (Archimedes got killed during the siege of Siracusa), Byzantines, Arabs, Normans (Hauteville/Altavilla) dynasty, even Swabians (Hohenstaufen), the French (Anjou/Angiò), the Aragonese, who brought Catalan as the court language, all ruling for not more than two centuries, fighting continuously for the power. When Aragon and Castilla were joined through marriage, Sicily became a feud of the Spanish Crown, for about three centuries and its sumptuous barocco art easily rivals the one of Spain and its other colonies. Even the Savoia and the Habsburg families took hold of this golden island, so Sicily finally chose to unify with the Kingdom of Naples under los Borbones, a family of French descent that got to rule half of Europe.

Detail from La Martorana church

All these different nations left their mark on the food, the architecture, the arts, the lifestyle. So traveling there is like taking a trip with a time machine that's also able to overcome space constrictions. Churches and palaces mixing Arab and Byzantine mosaics and cupulas, Romanesque structure and Baroque paintings and marble intarsia.

For gourmets without prejudices - calf spleen sandwiches - pani ca meusa or roast intestines of sheep or goat - stigghiola. For seafood amateurs like me - all kinds of fish and shrimps, plus sea urchins, oysters, small conchs and a variety of seashells, ranging from well known mussels to razor clams - cannolichi and big clams - fasolari, culminating with the calamari ink pasta, as delicious as unattractive. A lot of almond paste sweets, including marzipan fruits (frutta di Martorana) and the famous cassata, or pastries filled with fig and citrus jams. I had a delicious watermelon thick jelly flavoured with jasmine and sprinkled with pistachio bits.

Pasticceria Scimone in Palermo

The first two evenings we went to a symphonic concert at Palazzo Chiaromonte or Steri, then a jazz concert in the garden of the ruined Santa Maria dello Spasimo in the Kalsa district. We were lucky enough to be there in time Wednesday for the Santa Rosalia day, the patron saint of Palermo, extended sometimes to the whole of the island. Beside a popular music and theatre show in the courtyard of Theatre Ditirammu we admired the whole procession through Via Vittorio Emmanuele, made of about 40 colourful caretti siciliani carried by heavily adorned horses and exposing a beautiful girl dressed in white decorated with red roses, the symbol of the saint. To my great pleasure, with the contribution of the Santuzza, I met twice a young Sicilian actor whom I happened to see just a few weeks before acting in Bucharest: Alessandro Romano,

Around Palermo we have been to Monreale, worth a visit for its panorama of the Conca d'Oro region and the most amazing Cathedral, from 1174. Then Cefalù, a charming medieval town on the shore, with a swarming beach and enchanting atmosphere. Most of the time we swam in Mondello, with crystal clean waters and fine sand, but far too crowded. The picturesque Sferracavallo fishing village attracted us with great seafood. As I was longing for quite a few years to see Etna, a one day trip there and to the touristy Taormina accomplished my desire and confirmed my disgust for programmed group trips. Nevertheless, it is an unforgettable experience to be on top of an active volcano and see old craters, lava courses and wisps of smoke raising into the thin air.

We expected people to be noisy and drive like crazy, so there where very few downsides to the whole experience. One was the shops schedule, including supermarkets, most of them closed daily from 1 to 4pm, on Sunday and Monday mornings. plus the Santa Rosalia celebrations made them close doors for two extra days in the middle of the week. Palermo is not dirtier or noisier than a lot of other cities, including New York for instance, and our bus trips proved very successful. People were very nice, eager to help and answer questions, also curious about where we're coming from and our way of life, willing to share their experiences and knowledge, given that we know Italian.

Summing it up, I will definitely go back to Palermo, also eager to see more of Sicilia, there is plenty to learn and discover. I had the same great time with my mother, both sharing the same interest in combining sightseeing with sea swimming and food and wine tasting. I could say it was a complete vacation from all points of view, overwhelming all my senses with a profusion of smells, colours, music, landscapes and buildings all admirable in their own way. I had to admit to myself that Italy still sits comfortably on top of my preferences and makes me feel welcome and at home, offering so many things to my curiosity about the world's ways.

The in-between

2010-06-20T02:30:00.000-07:00

I am kind of settled now in an intermediate state, about three months after landing again in the land of unaccomplished promises, so full of resources and resourceful people, seemingly unable to stop going from bad to worse. I wonder how much is this the fault of our inability to get rid of Ceausescu's camarilla, the very same people that took him down so they can get more comfortable contemporary design armchairs under their butts. After all the two parties that are now disputing the power: PD-L and PSD derived both from the National Salvation Front, to me it looks like a two- headed dragon. We have no real civil society to stand-up against them, our intellectual like their own comfort more than anything, and even if they chose the hard way, who would join them?

Of course I am glad to see the positive changes, a cleaner, cuter city, more flowers in public areas, nicer taxi drivers and sales people in small shops and fruit/veggies stands. As for the restaurant services, they are as lousy as ever, the waiters don't seem to know what the word service means. There are some recycling procedures in place, but not everywhere, in my area for instance I saw just a few very small containers and the population couldn't care less about it. There are cycling lanes in some places, but few people respect them. In general there is a carelessness about what goes on out of the someone's personal area, no awareness of the public space and goods. The roads are terrible, including the sidewalks, some places seem to have been bombed recently, there are streets full of sand since I came, but for sure one of the reasons is that nobody complains, nor tries to find out what's going on. Romanians are used to be disconsidered and treated like shit and they respond in the same manner.

My trip to Spain was really pleasant, seeing ancient comrades from the cruise-ships times and two of the women poets I met in la Sierra Mixteca in 2007. I liked Madrid, but I didn't have a crush on it, Valencia impressed me more with its variety of life stages: old city, beach, the ancient river bed that became a park and the airy City of Arts and Sciences by the one and only Santiago Calatrava. I think I got a better, more balanced idea of Barcelona, with its good and bad sides. I would definitely like to live there, assuming all the unavoidable risks. Sheri-D and Éliz enlightened my stay bringing it a new multicultural dimension, beyond the poetry that brought us together. Canada, what I learned and what I lived there, will always be from now on part of what I am. The Great North and the Inuit culture still make me feel regretful for not making it up there.

Right now I consider trying my luck in Catalunya, I just applied for a PhD and already got a one-way ticket. I have no clue about what's in store for me, I am taking it one day at a time, cleaning the old house of the lot of crap that got accumulated here over the years, by four generations. Sometimes the sadness paralyzes me, I cry and I despair, I don't see the light at the end of the tunnel, I miss my dear departed ones and I feel lonely like a street dog on an empty alley at night. But it is a mandatory period, in a waiting room, I needed to stay home for a while, spend time with my family and friends and figure out things. After so many years living and working with people from different countries I feel estranged in Bucharest, I have to be in a city of more cities.

Home strange home

2010-04-01T12:04:00.000-07:00

It's been almost two years since last time, meanwhile Bucharest got better at some points, and worse at others. Some parts look nice, restored and cleaned up, others are dirty and falling apart, with certain areas that fall just in between, like the one where I happen to stay. There is a seriously hideous building, sitting on the spot where there used to be an open air cinema. I feel like home...at home, in my old room, a yellow/green aquarium, as I cannot pull the curtains apart so the gypsies who are squatting across the fence won't see inside. Toshka, my young black cat is here, sleeping on my big red and dark blue suitcase, you'd say she never lived on another continent, in a different house. I didn't quite unpack as I am not too sure about the end of this road, or rather about the next destination.

My VIM (very important meeting) about a job ended up in the air, maybe there is something and maybe I'll hear about it in May, the earliest. There are no jobs, there are no money, only expectations and hopes, mostly followed by disillusionments. While waiting for my Romanian residence ID I'm trying to set up a presentation about my thesis research in Uruguay with their Embassy, I want to take one to one salsa classes with a cubano and most probably I will be in Barcelona/Valencia in May, seeing friends and joining a couple of poetry/spoken word nights with two Montréalers. Canada seen from here is almost exotic, and I'm quite surprised I don't miss it yet, maybe it's too early as I'm still enjoying the embrace of the familiar. My friends surprise me with nice messages inquiring about my arrival and my stay, I must confess they touch me deeply, as their care crosses the ocean and so many countries and reaches me hiding behind my laptop and the green curtains, hearing the spring birds chirping and enjoying the sight of the buds, as much as I can see through a narrow opening.

The magnolias and forsithya are in bloom and I'm absolutely thrilled by the small violet carpets in the nearby park - dark purple, lilac and white. Viola odorata, so delicate in shape, so strong in colour. Our street is quiet at night, and the soundproof windows are of great help. I feel quiet too, waiting but not breathless, enjoying the cultural life, staying with my family, meeting my lifelong friends, like Adriana, that I've known for 29 years and my new ones whose blogs I've been following. It's a real pleasure to recognize a person from their writing. I have a little time to sit and wait, do little things that I really want to do, that you never find time for. My man is also in a stand-by mood, wait and see, maybe we'll last, maybe we'll break, and there will be just you and me, again. Things can only get better, I say to myself.

E la nave va

2010-01-26T06:32:00.001-08:00

So I want to leave Canada and go live in an European city of my choice this time, close to the sea, not too far down South or up North. Oh yes, the crisis is still ravaging the business and consequently the job market. By the way, I'm also 35, a little past the age of looking for my own true self around the world and back.

Oh, no! What a crazy idea living this cozy comfy existence of mine, my boyfriend (who can follow me if he chooses to do so), a nice apartment (that I rent anyway), my cat (that I can take with me), this secure and safe job that bores me to death, the many friends of many cultures that I've known for only five years maximum and have to deal with their own lives anyway, like anyone else on this planet. Five years were not enough to grow roots here, and a passport doesn't buy any feelings of belonging or being home. Of course I will miss some people, but being here I miss my friends back home and in other countries. The balance is never even.

Yes, it is a risk, but it occurred to me last night that this is not a one time decision. A while ago I decided once and for all to take risks, to swim against the current, to draw my own path, regardless of what did Mr. X and Mrs. Y. I took a risk when I went to Lisbon in 1997, fresh from university, to work in a Duty Free Shop. Then to Turkey as a waitress on the very pretty island of Büyük Ada, across from the fascinating city of Istanbul. About two months later I was in Athens for the whole of November and I managed to see the Minoic Knossos palace, an old dream of mine. In 2001 I left a career that just started to blossom and I stepped up on a cruiseship and became a qualified seaman aka foreign languages sherpa at sea and on the Caribbean islands.

Canada followed in 2004. I have never been here before, but it was one of the few countries that received immigrants based solely on your request and background. It didn't work out, I'm not fit for North America which is not fit for me. And it doesn't mean Montréal is not nice or Canada is not a beautiful country. It is a marriage that was simply mismatched, also because it was a long distance decision. So I want to try to settle in an European city that this time is not the first opportunity that arrised, but a conscious choice, why should that be bad? How many Romanians left Canada to go to Barcelona? Caminante, no hay camino, se hace camino al andar says one of my favorite poems. Maybe it is not the way, but it is MY way and I have to try it, no matter what. As long as there's no matter of life an death, what's the matter?

WINDOWS TO CUBA

2010-01-21T17:16:00.000-08:00

Since I came back, on Saturday the 16th, I feel like I'm living in a black and white TV set. Since I left Cuba, the colours vanished, from the houses and people's clothes, as did the smiles and the quick wit jokes and compliments on the street.

There's a certain liveliness about Cuba, and especially La Habana, out of the few places I visited, that filled me with energy, tenderness and joy. Or should I say gratitude, for the Cubans, for making me feel so at home, welcomed and sheltered. Maybe it is also the language, this barrier that does not exist in my case, or my bubblying personality, my love of colours and extroversion. The fact that I knew communism until I was 15 and that I toured the Caribbean from 2001 to 2004. Having seen a few Cuban films and read Reinaldo Arenas and Alejo Carpentier. Maybe it is all that, maybe it is just an inner feeling.

I realised my affinity with Cuba has little to do with the one I have for Italy. It is admiration mixes with compassion and tenderness. The Cubans I was lucky enough to meet conserve a certain childhood ingenuity, confidence that the world can be better, that people like me, who experienced living in many different ways and in several places, puts always into question. Today it ocurred to me that most people we talked to reminded me of my mother, with her cheerfulness and impossibility to surrender to sorrow and cinicism.

Than it was the whole grandeur of Havana, its large streets and beautiful buildings, with vast rooms and high ceilings, even in more popular neighbourhoods like 10 de octubre, so unlike the appartments and houses we live in, molded with an innate sense of beauty. A past when people could afford all that...what a marvel. Especially when you compare it with the empty shops and scarily low salaries, from 12 to 30 dollars a months, the latest being for the famed Cuban doctors, that also get exported to Venezuela, in exchange for oil and prestige. People have to "solve", "resolve" - manage, in a word - to get more money somehow. Either by inventing themselves another profession: massagist, craftsman, electrician, pastries, candies or cake maker, prostitute, in the worst case or by succeeding, God knows how!, to arrange nicely enough one or two rooms to rent to tourists, for which they pay heavy taxes, monthly and yearly, either if rooms are occupied or not. Same goes for private family restaurants - paladares, they are not allowed to have more than four tables, as becoming rich would be a counter-revolutionary action. Another category is made by the people who succeed to steal from work items that can be commercialized on the black market, from lightbulbs and batteries to blankets. Maybe it's not honest, but if the State took everything away from its citizens, isn't it just to get some scraps in exchange, just to make a living? There is free healthcare, but there is a lack of doctors (so can they really afford to send that many to Venezuela?), of medication and hospital amenities. There is free education, but many teachers deserted looking for something more profitable. And when you get your free education what kind of job do you get? Now, even if you make enough money, the shops are mostly empty and other clothes than jeans, shirts and t-shirts impossible to find. It was cool when we were there and on the all along the commercial Calle Obispo we couldn't find a damn sweatshirt or light jacket. Food is scarce too, what we found in the fancy Vedado neighbourhood market were good fruits and veggies, the pescaderia sold only frozen fish and shrimps. We also saw long lines for the only type of white bread available. The distribution card still exists, for rice, sugar, a little black beans and coffee and one mug of oil, probably soy. Otherwise there also a package of pasta and some crackers. The hard currency shops (Cuba has moneda nacional pesos CUP, 24 of them making 1 CUC - convertible peso, the salaries, the food card shops, the market and the bread are in CUP) sell Havana Club and other liquors, bottled water, powder soups and canned juices, fruits and veggies, at the same prices as in Canada. Now let me guess who can afford that.

But against all odds people are extremely courteous and helpful, unlike any other country I happened to visit. Cuba was to me a beautiful and sad window with a look towards a luminous sumptuos past and another one towards a gloomy decaying present. Just another great socialist victory, like the one I grew up with, in the name of people, payed heavily by the people.

When you ask yourself

2009-09-08T06:48:00.000-07:00

It's quite an interesting endeavour to live with one's self, learning to know which of your whims are acceptable or not, for you, and not for the sake of others. Interesting to question your choices and either you are what you do, or rather not, you're keeping your true self aside, waiting for an opportunity to let it out.

Last week I've seen "Tetro" by Francis Ford Coppola, beautiful visually but heavy, redundant and symbolistic on the story side, mixing love and power, Greek tragedy and Freudian theories. It is a powerful film indeed, very intense, but that's due in great part to its splendidly achieved gloomy ambiance, in a black and white run down Buenos Aires. Alden Ehrenreich is too much Leonardo di Caprio and Vincent Gallo bears a ressemblance to Joaquin Phoenix, lacking his force though, he seemed quite cold and unresponsive to me during the whole film. Maribel Verdu and Klaus Maria Brandauer were too much for them, while Carmen Maura played a cliché. To my great joy and surprise, I saw two Romanian names on the crew list: Cinematography by Mihai Malaimare Jr. and Production Manager Adriana Rotaru.

And I felt an urge to look for "Youth without Youth", the film Coppola made in Romania, with Tim Roth, Alexandra Maria Lara and Bruno Ganz, seconded by great Romanian artists, some of them (Mircea Albulescu for instance) playing silent parts. As the story of Mircea Eliade itself is very intricated, it is really hard to come up with something better. The film follows the original plot with just a few changes, sporting good performances, especially on the side of Tim Roth (as usual, I would say) and again, hauntingly beautiful images, using light and shadow in many interesting ways. Mircea Eliade uses love stories a lot in his writings, but they are mostly just a base for the development of his esoteric theories of existence. His characters seem to be rather prototypes than real people, made to comply with his demonstrations.

Strangely enough, both films deal with the difficulties of writing, "Tetro" with creative and "Youth without Youth" with scientific. Both Tetro's family drama and Dominic's study on the origins of language go unachieved, and the two films deal in a certain way with the scope of life. What do we live for and how much are we defined by either our actions or our actual creations. Is life worthy and meaningful if we leave a lasting work behind says "Youth without Youth", or shall we rather count its importance by the events we went through? In "Tetro" the creative act is actually seen as cathartic, liberating and unifying, as the two male characters are finally brought together, after fighting about it. This was what I was left with, to me the dominating father didn't seem that important, as much as Tetro's refuse to face his past and subsequently himself.

I was left pondering on this issues and the way they relate to my life, but I guess this is part of who I am, constanly questioning myself.

So calm

2009-07-07T07:10:00.000-07:00

During my three floating ship years, untied to the shore and ever moving on mostly smooth seas, touching and leaving land continously, like in a strange love-hate relationship, I struggled with my deep feelings of rootlessness, with anger, anxiety, solitude, pain. Beside island exploration and a small circle of good friends with whom I shared my taste for nature, music, books, wandering, wine and cheese, my support came from the time I spent alone, either walking, swimming or lying outside on the deck at night, enjoying the salty warm breeze, the wave spray and many books. Everything was changing and still staying the same.

It happened then that I became kind of aloof, cutting myself from the pettiness of the so called ship life, its merciless inconstancy that alternated kind and mean gestures supported by a main background of rage, solitude and indifference, palliated in all possible ways. Ship life looked to me like a fearful social experiment, that I was part of, living it and observing it at the same time, which made take a step back so I can watch myself playing on that turbulent stage. This way I learned not to worry too much, as many passengers were constantly complaining, just like many crew members, for a definitely different set of reasons, ranging from food and cabin quality to the colors of the walls or the various accents of people. But we got rid of the passengers at the end of every cruise, which was not happening with the bulliyng colleagues and bosses. I started watching myself from a distance even when I was passing through my worst moments, to the point of asking for my pictures to be taken when I was disfigured. In other words, I learned to take it easy the hard way.

When people tell me now that I look so easy going and unstressed under any given circumstances, I smile to my secret thoughts. There's nothing permanent and worrisome in life, except death and its causes. All the rest is like cruising from port to port, embarking and disembarking feelings, people and objects.

No Sex, Just the City

2009-05-20T15:41:00.000-07:00

City Hall seen from the park

My fourth time in New York, after two years of absence, and only now I got the feeling that I started to get hold of the City, maybe because I was guiding someone else for once.

I started seeing it in a more coherent way, at least part of Manhattan, with its rich history of sweat, blood, pride, progress and wealth. There are some words now that are very fashionable for describing places: fascinating, magic, charming, vibrant, magnificent, contrasting, applying to anywhere, from the Caribbean to Papua and Paris. As many cities are contrasting, vibrant, fascinating and magnificent, New York is no exception, but what matters is what makes a place so intriguing and deserving that many plump and pretentious words. What do I like in New York, what matches my search of thrill and enchantment.

First of all, I don't even know when I stopped being interested in shopping. I guess I never really liked going out buying whatever allures me, most of the times I have in mind that I need this or that, at least more skirts or dresses, for instance. Fashionista is not a name for me either, I dress for the occasion and thanks to my grandmother's example I have a great sense of mix-matching colours and styles. My wardrobe is full of things that look slightly different than the norm and that I keep forever, because I really happen to like most of them. So shopping is not an issue for me in New York, just like monument list checking. Never been up on the Empire State Building or on a tour to see lady Liberty, as a matter of fact.

This time I paid more attention to my attention and what I like is the profusion of Art Deco details on the sky scrapers, built during the heavy industrialization period, when the machines gradually substituted people (what made us produce more, sell more, buy more and finally get to this latest crisis. Metropolis by Fritz Lang is a masterful example of an artsy alarm signal created during the very same period, another one is Chaplin's Modern Times). An abundance then of crafted metal doors with geometrical patterns, mostly in shiny golden brass, different patterns climbing up the stone walls up to where they become invisible to eye (but not to a more powerful camera lens). Fantasist shapes tower up in the sky, so if one wants to see the best of architecture, one has to look up most of the time. I like this continuous feeling of walking back in time and expecting to see the lovely fashion of the roaring 20's and worried 30's replacing the modern times snickers and jeans. In New York I feel the industrious nation of those times is still up and about, although in the popular areas probably half of the people are tourists.

I like the obvious care for the arts, culture and education that the Central Station, the New York Public Library and the Metropolitan Museum, amongst others, tell about. The Central Park and its gracious statues, fountains and buildings. It's not only a financial and business center, but also a home for the arts and science, starting with the Lincoln Centre and going through all the local theatres, festivals and jazz bars. Compared to many European museums hosted in palaces that were built for living, not for exposing art, the MET amazes by its organization and professional way of display, carefully explaining the context of the work and the life of the artist, meant for educational purposes too, not only for the entertainment of the cultured, initiated visitors. And seeing numerous names of donors on the walls, one understands that these people were not only wealthy, they were also wise and caring, willing to become famous by their good deeds too. They knew that progress comes from education, and they wanted to build a new world based on democracy and meritocracy, so they did their best in making the USA rival mother Europe. For me is questionable either they succeeded, and if bigger high rise buildings made anything better (personally I like user and nature friendly spaces).

So much about the general impression this time. I like the bridges, the old run down metro stations, the food stalls, the street musicians, the artsy Villages and SoHo area, the mix of colours and races, although I find there are more Vietnamese and Thai people in Montréal, and their restaurants too, to my delight. Not to speak about the French style pastry shops, which shine by absence in New York, or otherwise are overpriced, like most of the food. The grocery shopping in compensation was affordable. Although I stay away from shops, I enjoy their artistically decorated windows. On the other hand I know that many dirty jobs are performed by illegal immigrants that live in dumps, far from the pretty side they clean up daily. I don't understand how comes there's no control of it. They get paid less than minimum wage and have no social or medical protection. But they can live in the US and the employers get cheap labor in exchange. One reason I wouldn't like to live in New York, for instance, beyond the over bullicious atmosphere, the long work hours, the short vacations, the weak human relationships, constantly challenged by the accelerated rhythm of life and the obsession of performing and socializing.

We walked a lot, took many pictures, ate little, saw some of my friends and some of the Metropolitan Museum and Central Park, due to scarce time. Which didn't allow us to go to any decent jazz concert or Cuban restaurant, as we planned. I also missed the Italian Arte del Gelato and Obika mozzarella bar. But I managed to get a few bottles of wine, cheaper than in Québec, including the Marsala requested for Tiramisù, so I can make the original recipe. I was very happy that my Cubano fell in love with the City and enjoyed all the wandering, although it went beyond its energy reserve.

SOME KIND OF WONDERFUL

2009-05-11T12:43:00.001-07:00

Not only I will be going to New York this week-end and my dear friend Jane is hosting us in a great area of Manhattan, but I got a very nice unexpected gift, in the shape of a blue dragon.

I saw my first play by Robert Lepage - Le Projet Andersen, three years ago, and I wrote a small reader comment in the cultural weekly Voir :

Identité et solitude (tous différents, tous égaux)

Tout d'abord je suis allée voir Robert Lepage sans préjugés, pour la simple raison que je ne le connaissais pas. J'ai vu la pièce en tant que roumaine résidente au Québec, francophone et amoureuse du théâtre et d'Andersen depuis petite. Ouverte à tout. J'ai été d'abord fascinée par la magistrale mise-en-scène, les trouvailles, la technique, la fantaisie débordante doublée par l'esprit pratique capable de trouver les solutions. Puis par la versatilité de l'acteur, qui passe d'une peau et d'un accent à l'autre, qui émerveille, amuse et attendrit, qui joue le Québécois, le Français, le "Beurre" exilé.

Mais ce qui m'a touché le plus a été le but, l'artiste a deployé tous ses charmes pour nous parler de la SOLITUDE, car c'était elle le personnage principal, ni Frédéric, ni Andersen. C'est vrai, mon cher conteur danois ne comptait pas beaucoup dans l'économie du spectacle, ce qui n'empêche pas l'oeuvre théâtrale d'être valide. On intéragit tellement plus de nos jours et communique tellement moins. On se replie sur soi-même, voilà le vrai sens de la masturbation répétitive - l'incapacité de communiquer, de s'ouvrir aux autres et se donner. Si ça effleure Andersen et sa solitude - tant mieux. J'aime le résultat final. Le titre est "Projet Andersen", pas "Andersen - 150 ans après".

A côté des brillantes parodies sur le discours québécois ou européen - car les danois ou les anglais ne sont pas épargnés, sur la necessité du psychologue dans nos petites vies qui manquent de débouchés, sur les relations toujours plus tendues et hypocrites (le thème du refus de la paternité - débattue dans Horloge biologique) - reste la question, que fait-on de notre solitude? Autant lui donner un sens créatif à la place de nous enfermer dans une cabine de peep-show.

J'ai eu l'occasion de voir sur scène Sir Ian McKellen avec la Royal Shakespeare Company, Cheek by Jowl de Londres, l'Odéon de Paris, du théâtre italien...bravo au théâtre québécois et à Robert Lepage, j'en suis ravie.

The Théâtre du Nouveau Monde is showing Le Dragon bleu throughout May, but two months ago when I called it was already sold out. Quite disappointed I was still happy that I could buy tickets for another show: Eonnagata is the ballet-theatre Robert Lepage directed with contemporary dance myths Russell Maliphant and Sylvie Guillem, a sublime interpretation of the Chevalier d'Eon story in a Japanese key, presented within the Festival Trans-Amérique (exceptional dance and theatre from around the world for very accessible prices).

Looking for video excerpts of Eonnagata, I found the official site of Robert Lepage's company and it occured to me to write to them and tell my disappointment of not being able to buy my tickets for Le Dragon Bleu. I also sent my three years old comment and I mentioned that I am going to the FTA show.

And abracadabra, hocus-pocus, bum badabum...I got an answer the same day offering me two tickets for next Tuesday. As simple as that. Because they care about their public and people that do care about being in that room. I think it's fantastic, and a reason of pure joy.

FOR READERS

2009-04-02T08:55:00.000-07:00

Got a reading questionnaire on Facebook, in Spanish, but I'd rather deal with it here.

1) What author appears most often on your bookshelf?

Maybe Italo Calvino, Bruce Chatwin and Jorge Amado, but the range of my preferences varies tremendously.

2) You owe most copies of which book?

None I remember. I bought twice Le città invisibili by Calvino, as I gave away the first one.

3) What fictional character are you secretly in love with?

For a long time it was Stavrogin from "The Possessed" by Dostoevsky si Darcy from "Pride and Prejudice", I liked the mysterious hard to get guys. Now nty heart has its feet on Earth:)

4) What book did you read again most often?

I don't really get back to it. Probably short stories by Chekhov and Bulgakov, plays by Shakespeare.

5) What was your fav book when you were 10?

I remember the authors: Alexandre Dumas and Jules Verne, Russians Nosov - Adventures of Dunno, Rybakov - The Dirk and The Bronze Bird, Obruchev - Plutonia & Sannikov Land (SF fantastic books about living prehistoric animals), Uspensky - Crocodile Gena, some two other Russian books with real animal stories and a beautiful anthology of Asian fairytales. All these books had the virtue of opening me towards other cultures, a curiosity that I will never lose.

6) Worst book you've read last year?

I've read a good deal of bibliography for my thesis, all were good:) The last bad book I remember: 11 minutes by Coelho, sometime in 2004

7) Best last year's book?

Hard to say, amongst the latest books I've read there are the ones by Romanian author Felicia Mihali, published in Québec: Luc, le chinois et moi; La reine et le soldat; Sweet, Sweet China and Dina.

8) If you should force someone to read a book, what would that be?

Shakespeare's plays for the large range of aspects, feelings, subjects and literary craft.

9) Who do you think should get a Nobel prize for literature?

It is unfair to choose a single author, still: Salman Rushdie and Umberto Eco (whose personal libraries hold about 50.000 books, by the way)

10) What book would you like to see adapted to the big screen?

Already done - Lord of the Rings, I've read it 12-13 years ago. Oh yes, all the Asian fairytales of my childhood:)

11) Describe the strangest dream including a writer, a book or a fictional character?

Can't remember.

12) The least cultured book you've read?

Lately, obviously 11 minutes.

13) The most difficult book you've read?

It was hard to deal with Kafka, it gave me some terrible anxiety states. "Doctor Faustus" by Mann, I couldn't even finish it.

14) Do you prefer the French or the Russians?

Most clearly the Russian: classics (Dostoevsky, Gogol, Goncharov, a little less Tolstoy - too exemplary for my taste), a modern who became classic: Bulgakov, the contemporary Bulat Okudjava, even if he's not really Russian. I also do like the French, but not in such a passionate way as the Russians. I went crazy for Balzac, Zola and Giraudoux in my teens. There are Marc Augé and François Laplantine in anthropology.

15) Shakespeare, Milton, or Chaucer?

Shakespeare. Milton I haven't read. I love Chaucer, but there's no one like the good ol' Will.

16) What do you mind most about reading?

That I can't do it while I walk:)

17) Your fav novel?

What?! I do not intend to spend my day writing this list.

18) Do you play?

I don't like card games, nor videogames and I'm lousy with sports. The last time I played Monopoly, the Lord of the Rings variant, about three years ago.

19)Short stories?

Bulgakov, Buzzati, Calvino, Pirandello, Borges.

20) Non-fiction?

Anthropology, travel and psychology. No self-help and new-age, please.

21) Favourite writer?

Far too many, some are to be found within the above answers, less the Japanese, Ismail Kadaré and Milan Kundera. Also Latin-Americans: Marquez, Llosa, Amado, Cortazar, Carpentier, Arenas, some Borges. Spanish Cervantes, Almudena Grandes and Antonio Gala, Portuguese Fernando Pessoa. Some playwriters: Pirandello, Brecht, antique tragedy, Racine, O'Neill. Poets: D.H. Lawrence, Eugenio Montale, Giuseppe Ungaretti, Antonio Machado came with me to Canada. I do not exclude Romanians, only most of them were mandatory in school. Examples: Rebreanu and Camil Petrescu.

22) What writer do you think is over appreciated?

Paulo Coelho...brrrrrrrr

23) Book to take on a desert island?

The ones I haven't dare to read yet: Iliad and Odissey, Divine Comedy

24) And...what are you reading now?

Mother Russia: the feminine myth in Russian culture, by Joanna Hubbs and Des îles et des hommes - Françoise Péron, a study about the Britanny islands. Then I start again with Romanian contemporaries, many to be found at Bibliothéque Nationale du Québec, starting with cu Veronica A. Cara - Baba Lina.

PIECE/PEACE OF MIND

2009-03-25T06:56:00.000-07:00

Looks like my mind takes after my body or the other way around - always restless, on the go, ready for wondering and wandering. As soon as I try to stay put I start wasting my time, as if I was afraid to look at things the way they are and live life the way it comes. The more I read and the more I look around, the more I feel the world is absurd, all this rush for money and things is absurd, our obsession with physical appearance (a bag to hold together the muscles, bones and organs), our habits to spend the days sitting inside a windowless office and then go working out in a windowless gym, not for pleasure, but to please our conscience.

Maybe that's why I like to travel so much, it gives me an unbelievable sense of freedom, and lightness, no mandatory dress code, no imposed schedules. Property means burden, bu we also feel the need of this damn security. I realized that leaving Romania with its petty deep rooted never-to-be-solved social and economic problematic enlarged my horizons, only to make me realize we are caught in circus like system: if you play the game right you get your reward. No matter where you live.

Sometimes I think I'd be happier in a farm, growing my own fruits and veggies (taking after Michelle Obama digging around the White House:) I acquire my long sought peace of mind when I walk, I swim and I dance, all my dark thoughts and my pains are alleviated. I'd love to live the same way like these new nomads but I'm hardly succeeding to live decently - according to my own standards - by staying put in Montréal. I hope to make it to Santiago de Compostela at least, while my legs can still carry me. Obviously from some place in Europe. A Spanish friend told me he met a Dutch lady who came all the way from there. In Romania I would have the hardest time making it to the border, afterwards it's probably easier.

A lot of I's in this post, it means I have to do something about all my moaning.

BLOG IDENTITY

2009-03-16T17:57:00.000-07:00

Ouch, since I have my Romanian blog this one gets less and less attention, although it has been my trusty companion since 2005. I managed to practice my English, listen to myself through it, keep track of my thoughts and happenings. All my troubles, joys, self and job searches have gone through here. The funny part is the Romanian blog, although new, gets a lot of feedback, I met many wonderful and unknown people this way. At the same time I'd like to keep writing in English, without translating from one blog to another, or keep re-counting the same things.

This year will be decisive, meaning I might take the way back to Romania. I don't call it home, as I kind of lost the feeling of what home might be. I travelled so much, liked so many things, loved and befriended so many people that it's hard to say. Home might be where your mom is as well. Maybe. My mom shared quite a few destinations with me and we both have an wandering spirit, only hers could not fly free during the dark socialism years.

I don't belong to Canada more than I belong anywhere else. Could be that I don't feel there is a Canadian identity, but just a few values, such as human and civil rights, nature and wide spaces, ecology. A country of simple honest people that just want to live quietly and honestly. A country of no excess. And it seems that even deep in my thirties I still need some kind of spiritual excess, that you can only find here close to the First Nations and the Inuits I guess.

I just got my citizenship but the ceremony felt like one more immigration formality, I literally felt like we were cattle, waiting to be branded (we were all designed by numbers), with a nice maple leaf. Although, looking around me, I saw many hopeful happy faces, of people coming from countries much more problematic than Romania, who really praised the promise of a land where race or religion is not important, as long as you behave like a good citizen. I admit that I am kind of spoiled by destiny, roaming free through life, pretty much as I please, although I had to pay my prices too and I always earned my living. Pretty soon I'll have my master's diploma and the passport. And a decision to make, possibly.

I'm a piece of chocolate

2009-03-12T08:11:00.001-07:00

Leonidas has a praline called Antoinette. Naturally, I identify myself with the dark version.

Latest fashion lips - trout pout

2009-02-22T14:27:00.000-08:00

Plastic surgeons fill lips with collagen, and people fill their pockets with money. It's an even situation: full lips and full pockets. Even the nice girl type actress Meg Ryan or the classical beauty model Nicole Kidman did it. Why on Earth would they do it? Or everyone wants to look like Angelina Jolie?

Looks like people don't have enough with fake food and fake smiles, they want fake themselves to top the cake.

The doll I got when I was 33

2009-02-20T20:55:00.000-08:00

Pedro re-signified it, Adrian reinterpreted it. I admire her, would she like to play with me?

MY TYPE OF INTELLIGENCE

2009-02-18T08:55:00.000-08:00

According to Howard Gardner's test the predominant for me are linguistic, inter and intrapersonal. In comparison my logical-mathematical, musical
and bodily-kinesthetic abilities are dramatically low. No wonder, I was always lousy in maths, I can't make counts in my head, I'm a singing nightmare and my sense of balance is so weak that I frequently hurt myself against doors and pieces of furniture. I've also read about several types of intelligence in Daniel Goleman's book "Emotional Intelligence", that helped me deal a lot with conflicts and inner contradictions.

Linguistic intelligence involves sensitivity to spoken and written language, the ability to learn languages, and the capacity to use language to accomplish certain goals. This intelligence includes the ability to effectively use language to express oneself rhetorically or poetically; and language as a means to remember information. Writers, poets, lawyers and speakers are among those that Howard Gardner sees as having high linguistic intelligence.

Interpersonal intelligence is concerned with the capacity to understand the intentions, motivations and desires of other people. It allows people to work effectively with others. Educators, salespeople, religious and political leaders and counsellors all need a well-developed interpersonal intelligence.

Intrapersonal intelligence entails the capacity to understand oneself, to appreciate one's feelings, fears and motivations. In Howard Gardner's view it involves having an effective working model of ourselves, and to be able to use such information to regulate our lives.

So communication still looks like the best I can do;)

SELF PORTRAIT QUESTIONNAIRE

2009-02-17T09:25:00.000-08:00

I AM: energetic, hesitating and hasty

I WISHED: that chocolate won't make you fat

I KEEP: photographs, written things and jiggery-pokery;

I WOULD HAVE LIKED TO HAVE: a horse and a pleasant singing voice ( I sing like a hungry she-ass)

I DISLIKE: slush and crowd, hypocrisy (Canada), boorishness (România)

I'M AFRAID: I don't have a choice, especially at elections time

I HEAR: fearfully - whirling wind, pouring rain; joyfully - the voice of my dear people, a child laughing, a cat purring, the waves

I AM SORRY: that I didn't really know my father and not at all his mother

I LIKE: travels and conversations with my mom, Turkish morning coffee, Margherita pizza in Napoli, wine, cognac, French rhum, limoncello, my tiramisù, my mom's spanakopita, tango, the sea, hiking

I AM NOT: stupid

I DANCE: anything, anytime (especially Latin-American and belly dancing), on the tables

YOU CAN NEVER: take back what you said

SELDOM: I am depressive and anxious

I CRY: when sad or emotionally challenged - positive or negative way (when I see miserable people, at the movies, theater, ballet)

I AM NOT ALWAYS: cheerful

I DON'T LIKE MYSELF: when I am angry

I AM CONFUSED: sentimentally

I NEED: nature, love and art

I SHOULD: start to really write

FEBRUARY 10, 2009 - THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING STRIKES AGAIN

2009-02-12T19:14:00.001-08:00

2 days ago

Now that I'm done with my master I feel anxious once more. I wonder where I'm heading to. I can't surrender to routines, to making no effort but just let myself be alive. I need a sense of purpose. I can't really complain about anything. I'm healthy, I share my comfy nest with a sweet and smart man and my job is secure in an insecure global environment. I even make more money now that I got a contract and I don't work anymore through a placement agency. I can do whatever I want: gym, theater, cinema, brunches, lunches and dinners. But I feel restless and unfulfilled. And no, I don't want a child right now, this is not the issue.

I might start making up a bimonthly travel newsletter for a big agency back home in Romania. It would be fun, I like playing around with names, places, descriptions, photos. It would even produce extra dough. It won't be enough but it's a new start. Before the next big jump. Here, there...I can't tell yet.

I only have to be patient and hopeful, live for the day. The idea of going back to that dear old, traffic jammed, noisy, dusty and falling apart Bucharest is getting more and more attractive. Because my smart funny mom is there, my hardworking introvert sister, my careless and big mouthy brother. Because Europe and its low cost short flights are at hand, so I can visit my friends in Italy, Portugal, France, Spain, even Sweden and Lithuania if I feel like. Because there I might get the chance to feel greatful for doing a job I enjoy and I know how to do best, something that would allow me to mark every day like a step forward. Why am I always looking elsewhere for the right place to be?

Everyone around is busy talking about the crisis and how Obama signifies big change and how he could make big changes himself. Meanwhile my life goes its own way. Things don't look too good back in Romania, economically and politically, but it depends what you're looking at. The press there likes alarmism too, shouting about negative things and also eventually distracting people from the corruption and former-communists-still-in-power issues. Top models married with sugar daddies make the first page of most glossy magazines. It's an absurd country but certainly not a boring one. I suppose by the beginning of the summer I'll make up my mind.

Then we have to travel to Cuba in July/August. And I have to get back to writing, now that I got the time.

Until then, Johnny Walker...keep walking.

JANUARY 9, 2009 - LAST STOP: NASSAU, BAHAMAS AND A FEW STEPS IN FORT LAUDERDALE

2009-02-12T19:08:00.002-08:00

33 days ago

NEW PROVIDENCE, BAHAMAS

As we approached the island on the fine morning of December 26, we heard loud music, I was to find out later that it came from drum cowbells, horns, whistles, scrapers and brass. Through the narrow spaces between streets we could distinguish some kind of parade sporting a profusion of colourful feathers. I rushed out holding tight my dear Nikon D40 and I joined the cheerful crowds.

The celebration proved to be a Junkanoo, a kind of local carnival, taking place on December 26 and January 1st only. Apparently I saw the Saxon Superstars with the "Exploring the Orient" theme, led by Percy ‘Vola’ Francis - a painter, designer, window decorator, sign writing, song writer and singer. I wonder how comes we saw it around noon, when it was supposed to take place from 2am to 8am. Did they do it only for the three cruiseships in port, to attract and distract, as most shops were closed? It could be, I saw an antique Saturday flea market in Montevideo opening on Tuesday because of the cruise ship docking that day.

It really made my day, especially because it was so unexpected. I took pictures, I followed the parade, walking on and off the street, climbing on benches, feeling the vibe and energy of lively colours and music. On the way I inquired about a nice quiet beach and for $1.25 the local bus took me to Goodman's Bay, frequented by Bahamians, tranquil and pretty. The wind brought over clouds quite often, so I did not really get to enjoy my swims and the sand. I talked to a lady and her ex-brother in law about cruising, the US, Caribbean, Bahamas for a while, they were living in Philadelphia and NY for now, but were originally from Nassau. They offered me a lift back to the ship and on the way we kept talking about Caribbean food, corruption and history.

So it was a nice encounter all over.

FORT LAUDERDALE

Disembarkation went very smoothly, to my great surprise, as I was used to long waiting lines and times. Also, immigration was made outside the ship, in the terminal building. It was so quick that I had to wait outside for my friend to show up. We split at the same place where we met, I was actually quite sad as I was watching the bench where she was sitting a week before, waiting for me.

The Floyd's hostel seemed decent and Katie and her daughter Nicole were nice. I was a bit contrariated though that my CC was charged in advance (by the time of booking) and I didn't have to sign any bill. I decided to trust my feet and walk to the Art Museum. As in many other US cities (Tampa for instance), the streets were completely empty, no one was walking.

I made my way to the nice waterside promenade the Riverwalk, I watched the fancy boats and the mobile bridge opening and closing above them. The Art Museum proved to be a great idea, I went there looking for a Cuban painter exhibition: Carlos Luna.
combined with Picasso's ceramics. This artist was Adrian's professor in Cuba for a short while, he then immigrated to Mexico and in 2003 to Miami. His works bear then both the mark of the Cuban and Mexican way of life, filled with symbols and even materials (like amate paper and Talavera ceramics). Some were huge and were making a strong impression through their bold colours and shapes too. They convey the sensation of being very lively, filled with passion of all kinds (some were showing Fidel being beheaded).

Another exhibition was following the history of the art in the USA, under the title "Becoming of Age" and showing efforts of national artists to find their individual voice, without copying what was happening in Europe in the field of arts.

My next goal was Las Olas boulevard, which I joined at the end of the Riverwalk promenade. It's a very busy avenue, packed with shops, restaurants and bars, but quite enjoyable and extremely lively and crowded, compared to the empty back streets. I had a nice huge salad with sesame pan seared tuna and mango and I jumped on the old wagon that for $1 takes people to the beach. The sea was a little choppy and not so clear, so I decided to stay put, read my book and enjoy the flavourful air. I knew that shortly after 5 Carnival Splendor should show up, leaving on another cruise.

My apparent loneliness attracted the attention of a younger guy who tried to convince me to get acquainted, which I kindly refused. As I advised him to go check the Art Museum on my way back, he followed me on the beach, trying to start a conversation. I guessed he spoke Spanish and he proved to be Uruguayan. After my happy three months in "el paisito" I couldn't help feeling an instant simpathy, so we ended up deciding to go for a drink or maybe dinner later on. Meanwhile I took a walk on the beach, taking pictures and watching around. I saw a deep blue type of jelly fish, several of them were thrown on the beach by the waves. I found out much later that it was the infamous "Portuguese Man of War", that I was longing to see for a long time. I also think it was a smaller one of them that stung me in Barbados, out of Crane beach, on September 3rd 2003, as I was turning 29.

I ended up having dinner with Aaron, who proved to be a very smart, well mannered and kind person, a bit lonely though. He took me afterwards to the hostel, but we stopped on the way for a bottle of wine and my next morning breakfast. We enjoyed our drink next to some crazy yacht crew members, from the US, Australia, UK and Canada, one from each country. The Australian was so drunk that he was rolling on the ground laughing like crazy every five minutes. I went to bed around 11pm, my roomie was some weird black woman who was working for Macy's and tried to convince me she's some big business planner who just moved back from the North and is thinking about getting together some grand schemes. A-ha!
The poor thing was sleeping with all her suitcases around her, some bags were placed on the bed. I was afraid she might get crazy and try to kill me in my sleep.

I succeeded to wake up in time around 7am and jumped in the shower, by the time I was under I noticed the bathtub needed some serious cleaning. Then, to my horror, a tiny lizzard sprang from the drainage hole, desperately flapping its delicate feet, trying not to get drowned. I jumped out of the shower as fast as I could, washed my feet in the sink and rushed to get dressed and eat something (although I had to fight not to get sick). After I calmed down I ran back to take a picture of the poor creature, that had soap stains all over, I was actually afraid it might damage its delicate skin.

The bus came in time and I reached the airport without any farther surprises.

I found Fort Lauderdale, with its many canals and boats and a seizable downtown much more enjoyable than Miami. My friend Mariana, who lives right next to Fl, in Coral Springs, told me the first time she was in Florida she felt like crossing a long, neverending village, because every town joins another. It's nice for a visit, especially when you come from the snow and chilly winds.

JANUARY 8, 2009 - SOME MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE CARIBBEAN CRUISE

2009-02-12T19:08:00.001-08:00

Brewer's Bay, St. Thomas, USVI

Out of the four ports of call, I knew pretty well the first two, the third was completely new and the fourth a vague reminiscence.

OLD SAN JUAN, PUERTO RICO

In 2002 - 2004, while most of my ship colleagues were rushing to the mall for shopping and movies, I was either wondering through the old city or seeing some film at the Fine Arts Cinema, in case they were playing something Spanish or Latin-American. Stepping on my own traces, I walked once more along Paseo de la Princesa, under the last sunrays; on the blue cobbled stone streets; through the Christmas decorated Plaza de Armas, stopping by the cemetery, the beautiful now hotel El Convento, savouring its walls and furniture centenary atmosphere; eating shrimps with mofongo de yuca and tostones at the traditional creole restaurant El Jibarito, drinking Mexican sangria at Maria's. We ended up taking funky pictures under Columbus' statue, just like I did before Xmas 2002. The funkiest ice parlor I've ever seen - Ben and Jerry's - didn't have any appealing flavor that evening. The coqui frogs accompanied us with their birdlike chirping. This kind of pilgrimage had some kind of therapeutic effects, it was reassuring to go to the same places and do the same things just like more than four years ago.

The guys at Maria's bar recognized me and so did my dear Maria, the french from Biarritz who spent already quite a few decades on the island - this touched me deeply, as did the news that Willy, the gentleman-farmer with a straw hat and dressed in immaculate white, that used to quote me from Pablo Neruda, was ill. I left full of joy and nostalgia.

CHARLOTTE-AMALIE AND BREWERS BAY, ST. THOMAS - US Virgin Islands

As I love turtles I had no choice but go to my paradise like public beach: Brewers Bay, where Green Sea Turtles wander in the crystal clear waters, grazing the bottom sea grass. There are usually very few people around, and this was my favourite nature contemplation spot, where I could sit or swim quietly, feeling one with the Creation. My patty maker and seller, Hyroon, came around lunch time to her kitchen-caravan, to my great joy. She simply asked me "So, you're back?", warming up my heart, you know you somehow belong somewhere when at least one person there knows you when you come back. Unfortunately she brought no dough so I just had a bitter-sweet refreshing mauby juice and we headed to town looking for salt fish and conch tasty patties.

Charlotte-Amalie keeps its antique charm hidden under the excessive commercial spirit, through the narrow lanes called gadde (a memory from its Danish times), packed with bars, restaurants, galleries, jewelry and souvenir shops.

The bookstore on the pier where I bought a few books by my travel writer guru - Bruce Chatwin, is now smaller, there's no more upper floor, which took away much of its charm, but the good books are still there. I found an interesting one: "Cruise Confidential" by the only American guy to work in the dining room (for the sake of a Romanian - hahaha!) - Brian David Bruns. A good story about ship life - in his department. I realized that, although we lived closely, different departments had different stories and issues.

On the pier I also met an ancient boss of mine (Chief Purser), Antonia Kordic, from Croatia, she was a nice one, so I was glad to see her.

The sail away in the velvety night had the same charm, with the lights bright like Christmas candles on the dark silhouettes of the rolling St. Thomas hills.

LA ROMANA, REPUBLICA DOMINICANA

First, we made the bad choice of a beach trip, which had us stranded on Catalina island, Italian property, under alternatively clouded, dripping and rainy skies, with no food around, only souvenir shops. I took a tour of them enoying talking to the Dominicans and buying a small wooden turtle. Those guys have a hard life, selling that Caribbean touristy crap that looks alike all over the place, for hardly food and a dwelling. Still better than cleaning after the tourists I imagine.

The boat brought us back just in time so we can pay a visit to the nice artist village Altos de Chavón, built by an American millionaire (Charles Bluhdorn) for his daughter's birthday with the money he made out of sugarcane and the work of those poor people. The place looks like an Italian middle-age remain, downlooking on the green lazy waters of the Chavón river, over grassy and bushy even greener slopes. Extremely picturesque. Fortunately it was designed by a talented Italian scenographer, so it doesn't look like Disneyland, but still, it has nothing to do with Dominican culture and history. It's part of the Casa de Campo millionaire complex, packed with VIP villas, golf courses and God knows what else a lot of money can buy.

We had a nice cozy lunch at Le Boulanger, topped with an amazing tres leches dessert then we headed back to the departing ship. I had the feeling the only true Dominican things I saw were the river and the dessert. Welcome to the Caribbean islands, US, Spanish and Italian properties welcome you and your money!

DECEMBER 30th, 08 - BACK TO CRUISING THE CARIBBEAN SEA FOR ONE WEEK - PART I - THE SHIP

2009-02-12T19:06:00.000-08:00

44 days ago

Ok, not all the Caribbeans, just a few Eastern islands: Puerto Rico, St. Thomas (U.S.V.I.), Dominican Republic and the Bahamas - Nassau actually. The Caribbean humid and salty air seemed to be really nice to my skin, after risking sun burning and having to hide for a while, now it's golden and soft as silk.

THE SHIP

Most important, I did take a cruise on my former employer's latest ship: Carnival Splendor. A good friend of mine from university (and far cousin) still works there and I was able to cruise with her as crew family. I had a god time especially due to the fact that I was able to wander where and whenever I pleased, guest and crew area, in my own clothes. Somehow I missed being employed there, as I could meet people only for brief moments, this time I was just a pleasant outsider who was scheduled to get off after seven days.

First of all, it was great seeing Emi again and getting to spend time with her after more than 10 years. She joined the ships one year after me and I was not even aware. Besides, we never worked aboard the same vessel. Seeing an old friend in a foreign environment is still seeing an old friend, sharing memories and having the pleasure of noting that nothing has really changed between us, on the contrary, I think I became a more understading person and this facilitated our contact. She received me extremely well, with delicatessen and warmth from the heart, thus bringing out the best in me.

The layout of Splendor was very similar to my previous ships: Destiny, Victory and Triumph, only there was just one crew bar, on deck 0, big, but far from the crew open deck, I used to love grabbing a glass of wine and going outside. Another big change was the absence of the jazz trio, apparently they are disappearing from ships. During my three years with Carnival, musicians, especially the jazz trio in the Cigar Bar, were my best friends. So I could not renew some of my daily rituals, like listening to jazz every evening, while sipping some cognac, Cointreau or Grand Marnier.

I did go to the gym the morning of the sea days and to the sauna in the evening, and I hanged out on the deck 3 huge balcony, exposed to the waves spray, air and breeze, but not to the wild winds and pitiless sun light. I showed very few times my almost naked body to the Italian officers on the deck (who are also supervising female crew members taking sun right under their very noses on deck 4). Guests complain they cannot go there, but it is the smallest open area on the ship, meanwhile they have access to all the large ones. I only lied in the sun early in the morning or late in the afternoon. After lunch I used to lie in a sun chair on deck 3 correcting my master thesis. Being very busy at work and spending most of her time with people, Emi preferred to eat late and isolated on the Lido deck guest area, instead of the crowded and noisy staff mess. Her preferred food was the Indian corner called for some confusing reason "Grill", providing curry dishes, different chutneys, humus and yogurt salad, called dal. At night we would indulge in the buffet, that sported smoked salmon and great desserts every night, to my despair, as I was trying to hold my horses when it came to eating. I never set foot at the Gala Buffet though.

We had only one drink in an outside bar on the formal night and I only watched half of the Latin themed main show. The rest of the time we would get our drinks in the crew bar. I talked mostly to a Brasilian guy selling future cruises onboard, a Romanian motorman, the Romanian Shore Excursions Manager, the photographers (the ones from Romania and Macedonia especially) and the Latin trio that had as usual a boring generic name: Latin Fiesta, being three fun loving and nice Dominicans. I was lucky enough to meet one friend from my past contracts: Patricia from Peru, who works in the gift shop. There were other familiar faces around, but none I really knew well. With two exceptions: one Chilean bartender from the last muster station I supervised on Triumph, and one Colombian guy who remembered me because he was involved at some points with my Romanian roomie. Many of my friends are now having regular lives on land. I'd be much happier for Emi if I knew she has left the ships. But on the other hand it's hard to leave, even if people work long hours with little rewarding or none.

I found there were some new rules, like the crew wearing their name tag even in crew areas (I had a Crew Family badge), which I think it's good, this way you avoid guests roaming freely in private zones. It happened once on the Sensation for two fairly drunk couples to get in the crew bar.

To make a long story short, I led pretty much the same life I did when I was a crew member, sticking to open decks and running away from air conditioning as much as possible. I also preferred crew areas because they are quieter. It felt very natural to go back there, maybe because I knew this ship layout very well. I understood that an absence longer than four years did not mean much, after spending three intense years on ships. Somehow it got under my skin. To such point that I felt urged to give people directions or asking their questions while in line at the Pursers' Info desk. By the way, my former position: International Purser, is also about to disappear, they're trying to use more pursers with language skills. What a pity, I loved my job, only it was not well paid and it had no future.

DECEMBER 4, 2008 - WISHES FROM MY FATHER

2009-02-12T19:05:00.001-08:00

70 days ago

September 2004, as I got to Canada - he departed less than a year after, but his words stay and comfort me, beyond time.

Farewell, my daughter

You are not going that far and you're strong and striving, so I'm not afraid for you. But I wish that polyglot and ecumenical angels watch over you and may multicultural divinities understand and protect you.

Maybe you won't be always happy but, as given and bearable to the man (and to the wo-man, the female side of it), only every now and then. But I am sure you will always be lively, attentive and creative, and this should fill your life. Which life is full especially when you live its joys and pains, when you taste the good and the bad. There's nothing more stupid and sterile than an always happy optimist.

Don't always wish for the presence, the care or the love of the others: your most precious treasure is your strength of thinking ceaselessly and trying to understand, even throughout the deepest solitude, the world we live in. You won't succeed, nobody did so far, but you will try, which is everything and something more.

Radu father

Drum bun, fata tatii!

Nu pleci asa departe, si esti puternica si razbatatoare, deci nu mi-e frica pentru tine. Dar iti doresc sa te vegheze ingeri poligloti si ecumenici, divinitati multiculturale sa te inteleaga si sa te ocroteasca.

Poate ca n-o sa fi fericita mereu ci, cum e dat si suportabil omului (si oamei, adica omului de parte femeiasca !), doar din cind in cind. Dar sunt sigur c-o sa fi mereu vie, atenta si creativa, ceea ce iti va umple viata. Care viata e plina mai ales atunci cind ii traiesti bucuriile dar si
necazurile, cind ii gusti si binele, dar si raul. Nimic mai stupid si mai steril decit un optimist mereu fericit !

Nu-ti dori totdeauna prezenta, simpatia si nici dragostea celorlalti: bunul cel mai de pret e puterea ta de a gindi neobosit si de a incerca sa intelegi, chiar si in cea mai deplina singuratate, lumea in care traiesti.Nu vei reusi, n-a facut-o nimeni pina acum, dar vei incerca, ceea ce e totul si inca ceva.

Tata Radu

DECEMBER 2nd, 08 - ABOUT MEANING IN LIFE

2009-02-12T19:04:00.000-08:00

72 days ago

From this blog I just finished the homonyme book of Thomas Wharton.

Here's a profoundly moving story of someone who found purpose in his life by observing a creature that acted without "purpose" in the human sense, a creature that acted without thought of self:

"There was a lama before the turn of the century who had lived, until he was thirty, as a hunter and bandit (in Tibet, hunters are viewed with no less disapproval than bandits). One day he was trailing a doe that he'd shot and mortally wounded. He caught up with the animal and found her collapsed on the ground. As she lay there, bleeding and exhausted, she'd been giving birth; and he saw that, to her very last breath, her only concern was the newborn fawn she was lovingly licking. The sight completely overwhelmed the hunter, and he decided then and there to give up hunting. Soon the preoccupations of ordinary life began to seem futile and deceptive to him, and he devoted himself from then on to meditating on love and compassion and studying the scriptures. He became a famous teacher."

From The Monk and the Philosopher: A Father and Son Discuss the Meaning of Life, byJean-Francois Revel and Matthieu Ricard. Translated from French by John Canti. Shocken Books, 1998.

NOVEMBER 19, 2008 - MY LIFE SERIES

2009-02-12T19:02:00.000-08:00

85 days ago

Yesterday at my milonga class (one of the classic tango types of music: faster and merrier) my partner happened to be an older Romanian gentleman - the perfect kind, who would kiss your hand after the dance. He told me he came to Canada in 1991, that was shortly after the fall of Communism in december 1989. His life basically is divided in two big lumps: before and after, here and there, capitalist Canada and communist Romania. I started thinking about how many big slices my biography had. This morning I happened to read the blog of a kindergarten fellow of mine and strangely enough he was making a balance of his life too.

So I decided to count and tell about the several series or seasons I lived through, that range around regime changes and travels.

SERIES I
COMMUNIST ROMANIA

There was a before 1989 until I turned 15. Even if my mother divorced when I was two, I was a child and teenager surrounded by love but harassed by all kind of shortages imposed by the communist coercive system: food, clothes, entertainment; power, water and heating cuts whenever they pleased. Classrooms were many times cold in winter and I remember that at home the four of us: grandma, my mother, my sister and I were sleeping in the same enormous bed at some point, so we can heat well at least one room. We also had to use a camping stove for cooking during the coldest times of winter. The final blow came when my grandma left in 1987 to West Germany and died two years later, just six months before the big political changes.

SERIES II
TRANSITION ROMANIA

Up to 2001 I lived amidst the contradictions and confusion of a transitory period, that still continues. We were all struggling to figure out a new way of life, after the euphory of what we thought was freedom. But freedom also brought indecision, doubt, too much perspective and not enough knowledge to fill it up. I went to study journalism at the university because I failed my cinema direction exams. Probably today I won't. While a student I worked as a translator, tourism guide and events (political and commercial) hostess, I also experienced a bit of press, radio and TV. When I finished, in autumn 1996, I ended up with a secretatry job that I deserted in January 1997 - that year I was mostly out of the country, somehow I managed to get small jobs in Lisbon, Istanbul and Athens, without planning to do so. This way I managed to learn Portuguese and a bit of Turkish. Somehow that year, as I've been going through hard times and rewarding moments, I grew up more than ever.

When I got back, my professional life really started in December 1997, first with Ludgate Woodstock, a temporary joint venture between two British PR agencies specializing in financial communications. We worked mostly on a national information programme about stockmarkets. I had a great time travelling throughout the country and meeting local press, radio and TV journalists: Iasi, Deva, Hunedoara, Drobeta Turnu-Severin, Targu Jiu, Slatina (the saddest city I have ever been to), Pitesti, Ramnicu Valcea. I got to see parts of the country I would have missed otherwise. It broke my heart to see how hard people lived in certain cities - Slatina, Turnu-Severin, Hunedoara for instance, especially because they were receiving us very nicely. Later on the company name changed to Woodstock Leasor and then they left Romania. I still keep in touch with Stuart, my first professional manager, an amazing person who taught me and encouraged me a lot.

A few months after I landed at Athenee Palace Hilton as their first PR Coordinator, in july 1999. It was quite exciting to work for a five star hotel, with advertising agencies, photographers, glossy magazines, VIP's, even foreign journalists sometimes, talking French and English at work. I was creating and organizing events, writing press releases and managing press conferences, taking care of all advertising and external promotions. The best encountes were with Franco Zefirelli and Fanny Ardant. But the pay was not too good and after two years I felt there was nothing more I could learn there, my job was really the one of a PR Manager, without the recognition. I was dreaming about going to Italy and study for a master degree - Communications for and with Immigrants and Refugees, at La Sapienza, Roma. I spent all my vacations nel bel paese in 1999, 2000 and 2001, but I lacked funds. And then another story started.

SERIES III
CRUISING THE CARIBBEAN SEA

I ended up leaving the Hilton for Carnival Cruise Lines, based in Miami, the biggest cruise company and cruise industry corporation. I started living and working on a boat on the blue tropical seas as a Purser, a combination of receptionist, concierge and client relations. I hated dealing with complaints, everything needed to be thoroughly documented and followed up. I managed though to come back on my second contract as International Purser, working with foreigners: Quebecers, Latin-Americans and Italians. God, that was good fun!!! I was using and perfectioning all the foreign languages I know, making amazing progresses especially in Spanish and Italian.

The people I worked with belonged to all imaginable races, nationalities, religions and social classes. Most of them, of course, were not from what is called the "1st world". I was living in a mix of Babylon and United Nations, learning so much every day. On the other hand I also learned from the countries, the islands and the cities: Mexico, Belize, United States, Barbados, Puerto Rico, US Virgin Islands, Aruba, Martinique, Jamaica, Grand Cayman, St. Maarten - Tampa, Miami, New Orleans, San Juan, Fort de France, Playa del Carmen, St. Thomas. One of my dearest dreams came true: observe marine life with my own eyes in its natural environment. I still miss the coral, the fish and turtles. I ate flying fish and breadfruit, cactus pears and fresh red snapper, I picked mango and papaya with my own hands or bought them from local markets.

The Italy plan didn't worked out, it died asfixiated by both Romanian and Italian bureaucracies, going back to Romania after the cruises looked like failure to me, so I decided to immigrate to Quebec, Canada. I sent the forms I had downloaded from the Internet to the Immigration office in Vienna, from St. Thomas, US Virgin Islands. They got accepted, then further steps went smoothly, until september 2004, when I crossed the Atlantic once again, to start from scratch on my own, right after I turned 30.

SERIES IV
A LANDED IMMIGRANT IN QUEBEC

I started building on my new life a bit more than four years ago. I cried, I cursed, I wanted to go back so many times...but I stayed, waiting for better times to come. My master in communication is a good reason - it was so enriching, the teaching system is so different from ours, I learned more than I imagined it would happen, I discovered new favourite authors like Marc Augé and François Laplantine. The Communication and development course changed dramatically my vision of geopolitics. I got a mobility scholarship and travel support to go to Uruguay and study the amazing world of murga - the open air musical theatre of the longest Carnival in the world.

Here in Montreal I have friends from all over the world, the opportunity to listen to any kind of music and taste any kind of food it might occur to me. I take tango lessons and occasionally practice my samba skills. I learned a little about Inuits and other First Nations, read a couple of books, saw some movies and a few pow-wow's - there is so much to know about them, knowing deeply about life and humans this way.

For the first time in my life, since July 2008, I live with my boyfriend, a charming, socially awkward and extremely imaginative Cuban draughtsman, maybe we'll even form a family soon.

I made changes, I know this had to happen, but somehow I miss something, and it's not only professional frustration that makes feel like this, nor missing my mother and sister. Deep inside I love Europe and its many ways of life, North America never really appealed to me. Probably another big step will follow...SERIES V, when, where, I don't know yet, but soon and somewhere else.

NOVEMBER 7, 2008 - CRISIS, FUTURE SHOCK, OBAMA, AND OUR DAILY LIVES

2009-02-12T19:00:00.001-08:00

97 days ago

When everyone around me in Montreal was over excited about the economic crisis, I asked myself why did I play it cool. First of all, I have no credits anywhere, no mortgage, no education loan and no kids to raise. I totally disbelief the continous progress theory that presumes endless development, so I expect system crushes and failures.

And I also strongly believe in two theories: the cyclic history of Ibn Khaldun -"constant renewal or replacement of the ruling group by nomads conquering the towns and settled lands. This was followed by a period when the invaders lost the skills of the desert and acquired the vices and slackness of town life." I think that our conquering nomads are the Chinese and Indians who are eager to learn and move up on the social and professional scale, in opposition to the hedonist consumers.

Then I think about Alvin Toffler, The Third Wave and Future Shock: "Society needs people who take care of the elderly and who know how to be compassionate and honest. Society needs people who work in hospitals. Society needs all kinds of skill that are not just cognitive; they're emotional, they're affectional. You can't run the society on data and computers alone."[2] Toffler also states in, Rethinking the Future, that "The illiterate of the 21st century will not be those who cannot read and write, but those who cannot learn, unlearn, and relearn."[3]

Most of all I rely on this "change is non-linear and can go backwards, forwards and sideways."

About Barack Obama - I'm glad he was elected, because he's a democrat and the US needed a political orientation change. Now, he's not black, but a half and half, and he has been raised by his WASP grand parents. He's not a ghetto kid and he spent the first part of his life abroad. I'm pretty sure he didn't hang out with black communities people. I don't identify him with the Afro-Americans I saw in New York, New Orleans or Philly, he doesn't look or talk like them. Take Oprah Winfrey for instance "She was consequently sexually molested by male relatives at a young age and endured the hardship up until she was 14 when Winfrey moved to live with her father in Nashville Tennessee." It doesn't mean I don't trust him, he's just not as symbolic as others think, his lifepath is similar to any other white boy's one. I really appreciate though that he did community work. I don't think his election will change dramatically the face of the USA today, or my country's or my own destiny.

I guess a lot of us like to feel involved in big events for lack of proper entertainment.

NOVEMBER 7, 2008 - CRISIS, FUTURE SHOCK, OBAMA, AND OUR DAILY LIVES

2009-02-12T19:00:00.000-08:00

NOVEMBER 1, 08 - NOVEMBER IT ONLY BELIEVES IN A PILE OF DEAD LEAVES

2009-02-12T18:55:00.000-08:00

103 days ago

This is Tom Waits, the great Tom Waits:

No shadow no stars
no moon no cars
November
it only believes
in a pile of dead leaves
and a moon
that's the color of bone

No prayers for November
to linger longer
stick your spoon in the wall
we'll slaughter them all

November has tied me
to an old dead tree
get word to April
to rescue me
November's cold chain

Made of wet boots and rain
and shiny black ravens
on chimney smoke lanes
November seems odd
you're my firing squad
November

Along the same lines and more (or worse?: the infamous Tiger Lillies.

I saw them last Tuesday, they are simply great. Irreverent dark cabaret, or great British black humour mixed with fine music and the hallucinating castrato voice of Martyn Jaques. Brecht with a touch of Lautréamont. Kill you!

OCTOBER 19 - TODAY I MET WIM WENDERS, AFTER SEEING "PALERMO SHOOTING"

2009-02-12T18:51:00.000-08:00

116 days ago

First about the closing of the festival and Wim Wenders. I saw no really bad movie. The ones I did not mention here so far: "Snow", by Bosniac débutante Aida Begic and "Four Nights with Anna" by Polish veteran Jerzy Skolimowski were really good, somehow understated characters, simple lives, simple people, little dialog, the surroundings and habits playing an important part themselves. It's like ethnography, the observation is as important as the interviews

Mr. Wenders is quite a figure, tall, with down on his shoulders wavy gray hair, wearing a knee long raincoat and a hat. He answered questions in the showroom, then outside in the yard, expressing his keen desire to understand why the critics massacred the film and the public likes it. I managed to get to him and thank, as a Romanian, for the help he accorded Romanian cinema by producing Catalin Mitulescu's "How Did I Spend the End of the World". Then I gave him a piece of paper on which I had written "MURGA URUGUAY. THE LONGEST WORLD CARNIVAL". He asked me what it was about, I roughly explained him, mentioning there is info on the web about it and that I cannot do anything about this passionating subject, beyond writing my thesis, but he could pull out a film.

Now, about "PALERMO SHOOTING":

I cannot say I disliked it, but I can't say either that I was delighted or thrilled to see it. First of all, I didn't believe too much the story of a glamorous (successful, good looking) photographer who's bored of too many exhibitions, fashion shootings, university classes, wild parties and casual sex.

He's actually very lonely, living in his studio (as his ex refuses to leave the house), listening to great music at max on his IPOD, and having strange dreams. His photos are all re-made on computer by his assistants, mixing buildings, landscapes and skies in a Godlike way. As Mila Jovovich, playing herself, asks him for a more natural photo background than hi-tech studios, he flies to Palermo and chooses to stay there. So far so good, isn't it? Only he has a mysterious enemy, shooting...arrows(?!!!) at him. Wow! Plus, the gray-clad pale faced guy keeps disappearing. Mmmm. Metaphysical thriller, anyone? It reminded me of the Lord of the Rings, or rather Harry Potter. I spare you the details, maybe you'll see the movie, so I'll let the man who's not a man happy within his misery. Maybe the star photographer just got on my nerves because I am so used now to see movies about lives of ordinary people.

Campino, who plays the main character, Finn, has a great body and his image standing naked in front of a large window made the female audience gasp. But his face is unable to go through a whole range of expressions. In real life he leads the German punk band Die Toten Hosen (apparently it translates into boring times - I really love this song. His pair - one beautiful blue eyed art-restorer he meets casually (the dialog at this point is hilarious) is Giovanna Mezzogiorno, I saw her in "La finestra di fronte" and "L'ultimo bacio", I find her quite cold and inexpressive too, I think she would do great as the Snow Queen actually . And how about this line? "I am afraid of Eros' arrows".

At the end I didn't quite understand the point. Manual photography is better than digital, fashion world is hollow and artificial, Lou Reed imparts some deep life philosophy through his songs, love is the answer (really?), death is but a passage, you have to live the present moment deeply and seriously. I've read somewhere that all our actions are motivated by fear of death, the hunger for power, money, celebrity, the search of love, of God, everything has to do with our struggle to leave marks and avoid the emptiness the thought of death fills us with. I totally agree with it, but I didn't quite get it from the film. The existential quest reminded me of Antonioni and the artist facing Death of Ingmar Bergman. The film ended with a tribute to both of them, as they died while Wenders was shooting in Sicily.

Now, the cinematography is great, as is the contrast between the heaviness of life and light in Duesseldorf and the brightness of colorful Palermo. I really loved the market stroll and the meeting with a sheep in front of a painted door hiding a whole animal gathering. Music is fantastic and the sound-surround system made it fill my body. I also like the general idea of trading a hollow luxurious existence with simple pleasures in half-ruined but serene Palermo, after all a metaphor for German/Italian way of life. So watching it was enjoyable for the satisfaction of the senses, but not for my critical mind, sorry, Herr Wenders. Compared to Paris, Texas, Wings of Desire, A Million Dollar Hotel, Land of Plenty, Don't Come Knocking, this film is not worth its director.

OCTOBER 18, 2008 - GREAT CINEMA STRIKES AGAIN - "12" BY NIKITA MIKHALKOV

2009-02-12T18:50:00.000-08:00

117 days ago

A free remake of "12 Angry Men", made in 1957. I saw it on Romanian TV as a kid - by the time they were showing real stuff not reality shows, talk shows and any other kind of show-much-and-say-nothing.

So, today's film was really strong, the kind of poignant masterpiece that won't even let you breathe. The story was moved to our days, or rather to the days of war in Chechnya. A 17 years old of Chechen origin is accused of the murder of his adoptive Russian father, a former army officer who fought the war but was a family friend.

The lively debate of the 12 jurors is intertwined with horror images of the war and contrasting ones of the boy alone in his cell. The whole movie is a crescendo, going from 12 common, indifferent looking people who just want to finish by voting "guilty" and go on with their own lives, to the shocking unveiling of their personalities and stories, from the chauvinist taxi-driver to the ex-army officer who paints watercolors in his country house and plays the juror from time to time.

It is also a fresco of the Russian society with its social classes, various professions and idiosyncrasies. An explanation on why things are the way they are. The images are amazing, with strong close-ups, attention to detail and people's characters revealed by their gestures and mimic. Mikhalkov himself plays a great discrete part until he choses to appear as some kind of Saviour.

I also disliked the long finale mentioning the "Russian officer's word" (not Soviet:), an allusion to religion and importance of free will expressed through a bird who choses the rough outside weather to the warm closed room. But altogether it was a great cinematic experience, and I was glad to pick this film amongst other choices in the festival.

OCTOBER 16, 2008 - "LE JOUR AVANT LE LENDEMAIN" - INUITS ROCK!

2009-02-12T18:47:00.000-08:00

119 days ago

Last night I had a 3rd degree encounter, I actually met three inuit women from Nunavut, the Inuit region above the English side of Canada, the one in Quebec is called Nunavik.

Madeline Ivalu, Carol Kunuk and Susan Avingaq joined forces with Marie-Hélène Cousineau from Montréal and made a film after the book with the same title by Jorn Riel. Igloolik Isuma Productions is an existing production house, put up by three inuits in...Igloolik, they made The Journals of Knud Rasmussen and Atanarjuat - The Fast Runner, in their original language. The women discovered they can do it too, storytelling is what keeps their culture alive. So the cinema is the new way to tell stories, and I find them tremendously beautiful and touching. Besides, the North being so far and expensive to get to, it's the best way for us to learn about the Inuits' ways of life.

I have to say I had tears in my eyes as soon as I saw these women, sitting quietly in the hallway of Ex-Centris, with big smiles on their broad, weary faces. Madeline and Susan, who are learning at an advanced age how to make films.

Madeline is the main character in "Le jour avant le lendemain", Ningiuq, a wise grand-mother who spends the Arctic summer on an island with her 10 years old grandson, Maniq. Then winter comes with terrible news and they start an impressive fight for survival, almost against any logic and hope. The images join contrasts between grandiose landscapes and close details of faces, hands, objects. The light is either bright or dim, the qulliq (oil lamp) is always present inside the tent or the cave, the fire must be kept alive, it's the woman's duty. The dialogue is scarse and reduced to the essential, the action progresses slowly.

This is how life is upthere (or it used to be, at least), slow, also because one needs to be careful and use the hearing, the smell, the sight, the touch, in order to survive. One needs to pay attention to every detail and move in a slow motion or start running, according to the natural conditions. The Inuits used no metals, only stones, wood, bones and skins. And they managed to make a life out of it. So the film has two main themes for me: the strong bond between grandmother and grandson and the Inuit way of life. It's admirable how ingenious they are, how strong and life smart, we could learn so much from them.

When the movie finished I was able to get closer to Madeline and Susan, Carol was translating, but I think the smiles were enough between ourselves. Madeline is so tiny, yet in the movie she fills the whole screen. Not long ago I saw "Ce qu'il faut pour vivre" with Natar Ungalaak, also from Igloolik and an accomplished artist. All the inuits I've seen in films seem to be natural born actors, maybe because storytelling plays such an important part in their life.

I bought the book describing the making off of "LE JOUR AVANT LE LENDEMAIN" , illustrated with drawings and photos, the photographer happens to be Romanian - Oana Spinu, I have to find a way to get in touch with her. Usually I don't care about autographs, but sometimes they are truly symbolic. Carol, Susan and Madeline signed, but Madeline did so in Inuktitut alphabet (sylabic). This book is a great memory for a lifetime now.

OCTOBER 1, 2008 - MON ARONDISSEMENT EN CHIFFRES

2009-02-12T18:46:00.001-08:00

133 days ago

In my culturally colourful district: Côte-des-Neiges/Notre-Dame de Grâce, people that don't speak French or English at home (or some combination) speak these languages:

Chinois, n.d.a. 4 820
Tagalog (pilipino) 4 280
Espagnol 4 220
Russe 3 815
Roumain 3 680
Arabe 3 530
Tamoul 2 830
Vietnamien 2 230
Bengali 1 695
Italien 1 450
Autres 14 145

I belong to those that speak Spanish at home (and at work most of the time). I am also part of the 76 500 immigrants, people who were born out of Canada. The total population is 164 246

SEPTEMBER 23, 2008 - WRITE, WRITE, WRITE

2009-02-12T18:42:00.000-08:00

142 days ago

This has to be my mantra until I manage to finish my thesis. I just saw my dear professor, Carmen, today, she's in Uruguay until next September on a sabbatical year and summoned me to write a max until her departure on October 11.

I got a new book, “Identidad y globalización en el Carnaval” - an adapted PhD thesis by Isabel Sans that I have to read quickly and my super-mom discovered a fantastic Italian tradition that might be related to the murga. The cantastorie (literally storysinger or storyteller ) is a traditional artist, whose origin goes back to the Middle Age, or even the age of Homer, who used to sing in public places, then - about legendary love stories or war deeds; now - addressing contemporary issues and happenings. Apparently there aren't many left.

Anyway, the cantastorie attitude towards "news" is very similar to the murga. I contacted this one (I love the "Mafia della tradizione" song) who's also an anthropology professor in Messina and, amazingly enough, he sent me a very nice answer, saying he agrees with me about similarities between the two cultural phenomena. I found out this way that there's a Carnival character in...Sicily, called Murgo, the Sicilian who comes back from America with his pockets and hat full of money. I thought this might be a reverse phenomenon, like a Sicilian who returned from Uruguay bringing also the notion of murga with him. Anyway, the cantastorie also offered to send me his book - Italians are such amazing people! At least I have met very few of the mascalzone and truffatore kind.

So...cutting off on outings, poor me, and read read read, write, write, write, like Lenin said "Study, study and keep studying!" At least I got to see one of my fav indie rock groups last night in concert. Enjoy some here.

SEPTEMBER 8, 2008 - POST-BIRTHDAY POST

2009-02-12T18:39:00.000-08:00

157 days ago

34th birthday anniversary, no big deal really, contrary to the past years I kept it small and user (me) friendly: improvised tango soiree by the Lachine canal on my actual birthday, Rona Hartner's gypsy vibes on Friday and dinner chez Claudia Saturday.

It's been a good year but somehow I was waiting for some cherry to top it. Like a phone call to offer me the job of my dreams, or something like that, I still believe in magic. Or rather not anymore since I turned 34 and the miracled did not happen.

Although I had a good year altogether, like going to the Sierra Mixteca in Oaxaca for the Mujeres Poetas en el Pais de las Nubes... and travel to Uruguay to study the murga, especially Agarrate Catalina and Araca la Cana I got to dance tango in Buenos Aires (a mythical dream) and to listen to my new Brazilian friends singing and playing bossanova under the almond trees on the beach of Bom Jesus dos Pobres. I set foot in the fabulous city of Salvador de Bahia de Tudos os Santos that I've been dreaming about since I met the unforgettable characters of Jorge Amado.

My classes are over, I "only" have left the master thesis to write, for some reason it goes very slowly.

And last but not least I managed to grow and cherish my relationship with Adrian, the Cuban draughtsman lost in Canadian transition that's now sharing my life with much enthusiasm...who knows what's coming next?

AUGUST 26, 08 - TRAPPED INSIDE

2009-02-12T18:38:00.000-08:00

170 days ago

I feel like being on stand-by right now, left here and waiting for something to happen. Something else, although maybe I am supposed to make a move. Get serious about working on my thesis, for a start and decide what I want to do with my future, what I really want from life, instead of just living it. I think I’ve been just too passive nowadays, saying Yes! to all possible things to do, except getting to work on the most important thing.

Somehow I know I have to stop running around, on the other hand my natural lack of patience and restlessness keep me on the run.

I kept myself plugged to Uruguay lately, I saw a great bittersweet movie called “El baño del papa”, another one called “El Ultimo Tren” – both about simple people trying to make a change in their lives, go against the flow no matter what is costs. I liked both of them, they’re very touching. I also attended two national day celebrations, a community picnic with asado, tortas fritas, tango and candombe in Parc Angrignon and a formal reception in hotel meeting room. Uruguayans still amaze me through their kindness and generosity.

The week-end before I was in Toronto with my boyfriend, basically to see his brother and family, I didn’t know what to expect but finally I felt I could consider them family too. No pressure, a warm welcome, we did have a good time, except the Greyhound trip, that left us stranded in Ottawa at 1am, waiting for the next connecting bus that came at 7am. Quite an unforgettable and unforgivable night. Next time it will definitely be Coach Canada.

I liked Toronto, the biggest and busiest city in Canada, a normal American metropolis. The Royal Ontario Museum is beautiful and has an impressive multicultural art collection, much bigger than anything in Montreal, the Ontario Lake looks huge and the harbor is packed with terraces, restaurants and bars, exotic food stalls, a colorful craft market. I liked the street cars and the Korean grill restaurant on Yonge Street where you grill your own stripes of the chosen meat. The weather was gorgeous and I was so happy to see my best friend Laura who left Montreal a while ago. She’s single now, she paints and takes flamenco classes, I miss her, she understands me better than anyone else, and it’s not only about being Romanian. I was glad to get to spend an evening alone with her and I was glad Adrian understood this. I was glad they liked each other; after all she’s the closest person I have in Canada, even if we met here. I wish I had more time to explore China town or some Caribbean neighbourhood.

My “brother-in-law”, Eduardo, took me and Adrian to Niagara, it was more of a courtesy to me, as Adrian had already been there. The falls are beautiful, two white masses of water and foam set amongst green banks, with spray floating in the air like thin fog, but the city by it is a terrible combination of Las Vegas and Luna Park, with at least 5 wax museums, a Frankenstein castle and a Dracula one, accompanied by scary prices everywhere.

This would be the present picture, waiting for the summer to take its last breath and give way to autumn. We’ll be going camping to Mont Tremblant – Lac Chat this week-end with some Romanian friends, I’m looking so much forward to get away from the city for a while.

AUGUST 6 - IT WON'T STOP RAINING AND Alexander Solzhenitsyn DIED

2009-02-12T18:37:00.000-08:00

190 days ago

He was burried today in Moscow, according to the Christian Orthodox tradition. He looked like Tolstoi and Dostoievski, exbiting an impressive monk beard. A lot of Russian writers had a special relationship with religion, particularly redemption. Film makers too, I still remember Pavel Lunghin's "Ostrov"/ The Island - a heartbreaking description of what Orthodoxys is really about.

Solzhenitsyn's story is impressive and so are his books, depicting the Gulag's life and the Russian communist regime the way they were. I wonder what would I have done under such conditions. I wonder how today's Romanian teen-agers would be if they were born under communists like my generation, standing with one foot on each side. I was definitely marked by it and I am attracted to stories of those times, admirable stories of the human spirit being stronger than its frail body needs.

May the writer rest in peace and may his work have an everlasting life. Amin

JULY 29, 2008 - WHAT TO WRITE ABOUT?

2009-02-12T18:35:00.000-08:00

198 days ago

I use this blog as a diary and during the last month I barely followed routines: cooking, cleaning, going to work daily, to the gym twice a week, re-starting my tango classes and practice. I feel like there was really nothing happening worth to be mentioned. The jazz festival went away without major revelations, except a Cape-Verdian singer – Mayra Andrade, but still, I didn’t buy her CD. This summer is very capricious, it keeps raining for a few weeks now and you can never trust the forecast 100%. The fact is that I feel an urge to get out of the city; it’s been a long time since I got “trapped” here.

My couple life goes well, with small crises which I find normal for two people trying to adjust themselves to living intimately together. We have similar tastes but different backgrounds and lifestyles, even if we watched pretty much the same cartoons as kids. I have a lot of physical energy to spend walking, dancing, swimming, he likes to draw, read, watch films and share time with friends, mostly sitting down and talking. Different basic needs and priorities. So we have to meet somewhere in the middle, which made me give up going on a great hike on Saturday. Time will tell if the efforts on both sides are not too much for a lasting relationship.

At tango I met a new friend from Uruguay, Luis, a very nice gentleman, who also likes murga, so we are talking about the Uruguay national day celebration on August 24th as an opportunity to organize a small tango event. Later in September we want to organize an event dedicated to murga and candombe, with me talking about my experience in Uruguay. And the interview taken for Brecha in April finally appeared in the Montevideo weekly newspaper: “Entusiasmo por la murga a contraestación. El azaroso camino desde Montreal al Teatro de Verano de una periodista rumana tras el pulso y encantamiento de la murga y el Carnaval. A la vez, ayer se presentó un libro de una artista y académica uruguaya instalada en Estados Unidos que reflexiona sobre el fenómeno de la murga joven. Miradas académicas que no dejan de lado la pasion.” I’m not a journalist as they call me, but what matters is the intention.

Only last week I managed to start transcribing the interviews I took myself, I’m half way done, it’s a boring and tiring process. Plus, I hate the idea of telling my Uruguay story filtered by sociological, communication and anthropological theories, but there’s no other way, and I want to have everything done and wrapped up by December.

So I don’t have much to write. On our free time, I spend time with Adrian seeing friends: dinners, barbecues, one wedding, we managed to go to the swimming pool only once, due to weather conditions. I don’t have time for getting back to my creative writing; he’s been looking for a job for two weeks now, briefly, it’s not the greatest summer I ever had, barely bearable, but living with Adrian adds spice and fun to it.

Last but not least, an Uruguyan film to be seen: El baño del Papa/Pope's restroom.

JUNE 25, 2008 - TWO MEDEA, TWO MASTERPIECES

2009-02-12T18:34:00.000-08:00

232 days ago

There's the one by Pasolini with Maria Callas and....surprise surprise! Lars von Trier made one based on the Carl T. Dreyer's script, which holds beautiful expressionist images. I watched them both over the week-end - the storyline is slightly different, Pasolini goes through the whole legend of the Golden Fleece and the Argonauts who go all the way to Colchis (situated in nowadays Georgia or Gruzia) to still it. Lars von Trier/Dreyer tell only the end of the story, like the classical play by Euripides.

The focus in Pasolini's version falls onto the difference between two worlds: myth and reason, Medea and Jason, the world of magic and the real world. Maria Callas is beautiful and sensitive, instead of being a sorceress, her Medea is a stranger who's not understood and/or accepted in the culture where she landed. Between her and Jason there's mutual attraction, but he's a man of this world who wants to be accepted and recognized, so he choses to marry somebody more appropriate to his ambition. Medea is not a criminal, only a woman who choses to revive her old rites, re-affirm her vision of the world when she feels trapped and betrayed. The only actor attracting my attention is Laurent Terzieff as the Centaur who plays adoptive father to Jason. The settings and the costumes are overwhelming, recreating a long gone forgotten world in the cine verite style that characterizes the other films of Pasolini. He filmed vast empty lands, troglodyte and mud cities in North Africa with amateurs and I guess a little in Italy (the Corinthian part) it looks ancient but not fantasylike, the impact is amazing, you feel that story is real.

Lars von Trier plays with light and shadow, also with little dialogue, in a Middle Age looking Scandinavia, filled with trembling lights and somber settings. Characters communicate many times through screens: curtains or branches, like they can't really see each other the way they are. His Medea is a feminist who does not accept her destiny of being seduced then abandoned by a man. I understood her murder of the children like a liberation from all bounds with that foreign country. At the end, as she sails away, she symbolically takes off her cap and frees her long hair. The marshlands, the water and forests are the perfect wild setting for wild passions, but people speak in subdued tone, which, together with the empty spaces and fog/dim lights creates the sensation of oppression. The best Lars von Trier film I've seen so far, no doubt due also to the expressionist syle he has chosen, as a tribute to Carl Dreyer.

JUNE 19, 2008 - BLOG TO BLOG, SOMEONE ELSE DEFINED MY LOVELIFE

2009-02-12T18:32:00.002-08:00

238 days ago

I found today on another blog, belonging to a young and quite successfull young Italian author Pulsatilla, a few phrases that suit me:

"martedì, 10 giugno 2008

A questo punto te lo dico, qual è la cosa molto semplice da fare per tenermi sempre con te e non farmi andare più via: avere fiducia in me, in te e in noi. Quando ti dirò che non ce la faccio, tu mi dovrai dire che ce la posso fare eccome. Quando ti dirò che forse sarebbe meglio separare le strade, tu mi dovrai dire che non troverò nessun amore bello come il nostro. Quando avrò voglia di scopare qualcun altro, tu dovrai dirmi che nessuno mi sa scopare bene come te. Sono una persona semplice, per farmi restare devi soltanto dire «resta».

Nessuno ha mai osato chiederlo, e forse, in fondo, non sarebbe mai valsa la pena restare. "

"At this point I'm telling you, what's the very simple thing to do for having me always next to you and not makimg me leave: trust me, you and us. When I'm telling you that I can't make it anymore, you should be telling me that I can, here I am. When I'm telling you that maybe it would be better to split ways, you should be telling me that I won't find any other love to match ours. When I'm feeling the desire to have sex with someone else, you should be telling me that no one can give me better sex than you do. I'm a simple person, to make me stay you just have to say "stay". No one ever dared to ask for it, and maybe, really, to stay wasn't even worth it."

Well, I knew this for a long time, it was never hard to find men that I liked who admire me and want to have a good time and experience some intense emotions, but, oh!, who had the guts to tell me "Stay!"? The ones who did didn't quite know who and how I am made, they thought they wanted me when they wanted whom they think I was. The ones who knew me and could have made me stay didn't ask for it, I want it all and I I want it now all the time, too much energy to bear with.

Another thing Pulsatilla says : "I love Pulsatilla but I'd rather be with Rosa". I'm lovely and uncomfortable, like a pair of stilettos that you can't possibly wear every day. Like truffles, foie gras or caviar, an overdose is yucky, once or twice a year in small quantities is ideal.

And still, this crazy boyfriend of mine is unrealistic enough to be willing to share his life with me. I guess you have to be Cuban, artist, be called Adrian and have a lot of patience and perseverance to be able of such a performance. He won't let go, for once I'm getting what I was expecting, the simplest way: STAY. And he won't limit himself to it, he would follow me. I guess he deserves me then, I don't have a choice. A new story is about to begin for me: a real life of two, through good and hard times.

PS There's another Italian blog that I like much more, and I bumped into it because somebody who couldn't tell me "Stay" gave me the author's book: "Di dove sei?". The book is simple and great, filled with stories about our daily lives, revolving around jobs, kids, condos or rented apartments, the hairdresser, the beautician, the fashion obsession, etc. Marilena has a very keen eye on people and their ways of living life.

JUNE 18, 2008 - BACK TO CANADA AND A HEALTHY ROUTINE

2009-02-12T18:32:00.001-08:00

239 days ago

I noticed that lately I pretty much went with the flow, followed other people's impulses and suggestions, sticking most of the times to the A plans - like going to Rome with my mom because I was invited; agreeing with my boyfriend to move together; accepting a job because they wanted me very much. And it went well. I have quite a balanced life right now and I feel like I actually need some rest, after all the travelling, I need to let things settle inside and outside.

I need to get back to my thesis studies and writing, get back to the gym and some outdoor activities, like hiking, or indoor, like tango dancing. The big change would be to live in a couple, I'm thrilled by it, it was about time.

For now love, school and some social life are enough, after I finish my thesis I'll be ready for more challenges.

JUNE 11th, 2008 - MY SISTER'S WEDDING AND CONCLUSION OF A STRANGE FRIENDSHIP

2009-02-12T18:27:00.000-08:00

246 days ago

Well, after coming back from Italy on May 30th all that followed were marriage preparations, on my side house cleaning actually. I only managed to stick a book launch in between.

Then the civil ceremony followed on Friday morning and a home buffet lunch, my sister was radiant and I cried a little, especially seeing her father getting emotional. On Friday a friend of mine came from Italy and I went to the airport to wait for him and show him a little around town, as it was his first visit ever. We tried to have dinner but by the time we found a place that had its kitchen open we were fed up and tired already. We got unpleasant service here, which is quite sad for such a pretty place and made a stop on the National Theatre terrace - La Motoare, which is almost historical by now.

I've just read that due to the revamping renovation of the National Theatre this terrace is living its last summer. Bucharest is devastated by changes right now actually, the historical centre is exposing all its tubes and pipes along the eviscerated streets, next to brand new cafes and bistros. The University underground passage is smelly and looks like after war remains, there are no more shops, only grey ruins. Besides prices are similar to the ones in Canada and Western Europe, meanwhile incomes did not get there yet.

Saturday started with me playing the guide to Old Bucharest and the Romanian section of the National Art Museum, which is my favourite, next to the open air Peasant Museum. Then it was THE DAY - church and party, my sister was stressing out, also due to rain possibilities, which became real, but during a transitory moment, as we were preparing for the church. I was very glad to see my old Parisian friend, Philippe, made it for the ceremony. I stressed out too, running around the place pinning the traditional flowers onto lapels, blouses and straps, making sure I'm not hurting anyone but myself. When I was done most of the saying was done too and as most people stand in the back I'll have to watch the DVD to see the expression on my sister's face.

We even made it to the park for photographs, my dear old Carol I Park, where I played and climbed trees so many times during my childhood.

The restaurant followed, the Scientists' House (Casa Oamenilor de Stiinta), an absolutely amazing Belle Epoque building, with a typical Romanian wedding orchestra, I enjoyed the cafe concert and folkloric parts most of all, we got to dance like crazy at some points. The food was decent, I got better and I got worse in my life, maybe a bit too bland for my cosmopolitan taste (nothing beats Italian or Thai food anyway). I was exhausted so I left at about 3am, I think it finished around 4. I was happy to see my sister and my mother in the best possible mood.

On Sunday my long-term long-distance friend left (one day earlier than previewed, after approximately one day and a half in Bucharest) and I suddenly got to put things into perspective, only to realize that this kind of friendship is something I could never put up with, no matter how much nervous energy I consume. I realized that although he's kind and gentle and probably cares for me in his own way he's unable to draw a line and decide what kind of friendship this is, how close or how far apart can we come. He's moody, restless, anxious, almost neurotic, which tensed my nerves as if they were steel strings every time we met. I didn't understand and after such a long time I decided I don't even want to understand any more, although I feel good around him. It looks like he's doing his best to spoil it, while he's stating at all times that he respects me and cares for me a lot.

When we first met, in 2000, I felt he was bringing up the best in me. Now it's like he's trying to bend my ego down to a break. My self-esteem runs low and I decided I can't afford it any more, not at this stage of my life. Sad? Yes I am, I care for people and I treasure old times friends, he's a brilliant, brave and honest person and probably a good friend to others, but somehow we suffer a negative transformation when we get together, there's an urge coming from inside that I cannot define to behave in a way that finally drew us apart. Like some emotions die when they come into light (it reminds me of the nice Gremlins when they got touched by water and became monsters). I don't want to hear from him any more, the beautiful memories I had of us are fading and letting place to bitterness. I told him that's the end of it, if he understood the reasons or not it's just another detail.

JUNE 11th, 2008 - ABOUT A SHORT TRIP TO ITALY

2009-02-12T18:23:00.000-08:00

246 days ago

Oh, My, another two months without writing. Well, not much to say about my last one month sojourn in Canada. I got the max for my field work in Uruguay and my thesis project and found another Executive Secretary job, in a very pleasant environment, sourrounded mostly by Mexicans, so Spanish is almost my first language in Canada by now.

Back to Romania on May 17th, for a few organizational days, then a trip to Italy with my mom, to celebrate her birthday. As we get along more like siblings than mother and daughter it was such a joy to get to show her around Rome, Naples and Capri (where I've been only once, in 2000). I saw a few long term, long time not seen friends, including my best one ever: Luca, the extraordinarily bubblying, fun and generous Giovanna, a recently elected deputy, Renato F., two other lovely Romanians who hosted me previously: Irina and Ioana and another charming compatriot, Petruta, that I once met thanks to a train that stopped in the middle of nowhere, which led us to speaking to each other. I also chose to see someone I was very fond of in the past, choice that got me into trouble later on, but, hey!, otherwise I wouldn't be me.

The most beautiful and special thing about this sublime country is that you can never grow tired of it, I've been in Rome quite a few times and there is always something to discover, same for my beloved Naples, which I find so attractive and suitable for my personality in spite of being hectic and far from clean and tidy. My new "discoveries" included the San Severo Chapel in Naples with its amazingly achieved statues and the two anatomic models; the painted pavement of the San Michele church in Anacapri; the Santa Maria sopra Minerva behing the Panteon in Rome, which is so full of wonders that I missed a Cristo Redentore by Michelangelo and last but not least Santa Maria in Trastevere, home to 12th century mosaics.

I also made it to a tango night in Prati which wasn't wow, but at least I got to dance a bit with Stefano, the great ice cream maker we found on Via dei Coronari - Gelateria del Teatro. And we saw "Gomorra" - a film inspired by the best selling book of Roberto Saviano, as it was more like a documentary the characters were hardly defined and the stories mingled too much, if one didn't know what it was about, one could not make sense of it.

The only day it rained it was my mom's birthday, it was fun though. As I was leaving I was as sad as the other times (last time in 2003), but not as much as when I left Napoli, there's definitely something about that city and its area (Capri, Pompei, Costa Amalfitana) that sticks to my very skin.

APRIL 18, 2008 - BACK NORTH, LONGING FOR THAT SOUTH

2009-02-12T18:21:00.000-08:00

300 days ago

Time to pay taxes and give in my thesis project. Time for spring to come too, it's warm but no leaves adorn the trees yet.

I left Montevideo with tears in my eyes, leaving behind good friends and a careless life, sunny weather and the long walk side by the water - Rambla.

I left Garufa Tango, where I used to go for my private class every day at 4pm to meet Julio who would show me the technique and magic of the most sensual, dramatic and tender dance I could ever imagine. On Fridays there is a collective milonga class followed by dinner, chatting, drinking, dancing. Julio would prepare the grill and salad and people choose from morcilla, asado, chicken, sausage, accompanied by beer and cheap red wine until the wee hours. I wish I was there tonight.

I also left Cristina and her cats and dog, the wise, smart and kind hearted Rosana, my wonderful second family Ariel and Marta, the enthusiastic professor who's Milita Alfaro...too many people to list. I received so much there and I left a part of me, there's no other way.

Ten days ago in Buenos Aires I discovered a great Brazilian painter: Tarsila do Amaral and an Argentinian one: Xul Solar. Both at MALBA - Latin American Art Museum. I bought some more great shoes, danced some more tango, had some more great walks and food and wine.

Coming back is hard, when I saw Montréal from the plane I realized I didn't want to be here. At all. The South changed me, it got inside me and turned me inside out. I know that from now on my trips will have much less to do with sightseeing and more with living with people, talking, eating, drinking, laughing, dancing with them. Trying to see the world through their eyes, trying to show them the world I see. What a great life lesson these three months have been, how it hurts to put it in the past and what a hope to go back there...

MARCH 29, 2008 – BAHIA - IMPRESSIONS

2009-02-12T18:20:00.001-08:00

318 days ago

Bahia, Brazil, was definitely the most challenging phase of this trip down South. The most provoking and that left a strong mark in my memory. I cannot say I like Salvador 100%. I was expecting more glamour, beyond the shadow of a doubt, I had a mythical image about it, mostly due to the Jorge Amado descriptions of the city, obsviously out of date due to the galloping modernity. I also think that Salvador is a city you discover in time, with its local artists, life music, theaters, candomblés. A short visit is not enough.

Montevideo and Buenos Aires are more similar to what I know and I am accustomed too. Salvador made me come out of myself and experience a different culture. It wasn’t really a cultural shock, rather getting accustomed to other visual and spoken codes and languages. There was no bubbling nightlife as I expected and people are rather poor or middle class, far from the money producers and big spenders in Sao Paulo or the glamorous and playful Rio, Salvador is rather joyful than hedonistic.

I tried to imagine the arrival of the first Portuguese colons, the view of the rolling hills with luxurious vegetation and the blue, iridiscent, sometimes opalescent waters. The Mata Atlantica, a stretch of rainforest running along the coast, reduced now to 5% of its surface, still hosting endangered species. Salvador da Bahia developed around the gulfs and bays formed by the Atlantic Ocean, it was the first capital of Brazil, until the court moved to Rio. It started from Pelourinho, the now charming recuperated historical district, I don’t know where it went from there. I saw older houses in Barra, Vitoria, Rio Vermelho, Cidade Baixa. A lot of them are rundown. The best looking places are new impersonal condominiums. All guarded, like in other big brazilian cities, Salvador is the 3rd biggest, I presume after Sao Paulo and Rio. Approximately 2.700.000 people, in 2005.

Out of the recognizable coast the city look to me like a chaotic labyrinth, everything taking the same shapeless shapes. High rise and low rise buildings, poor houses climbing up to the top of the hills, deprived of any trace of green. The familiar favela look with their steep narrow streets and houses pushing eachothers, lack of space and air. I don’t know if they were real favelas, I don’t know what defines them, looks, degree of poverty or violence?

Once I got off the bus in the wrong area, near Lapa, nothing was identifiable to me, I felt like getting crazy, lost in post modern Babel tower, sorrounded by highways and car repair workshops. The infrastructure is bad, there are no buses after 11pm, no weekly or monthly cards, so you pay every single trip in cash and the itineraries are winding and long. The terreiro do santo I went to surrounded by that poor neighbourhood made me feel fear and distrust, then I relaxed and confided and felt good about going there.

Some of the best experiences in my life came from overcoming my fear of the unknown. Get over it and step forward. It always paid off and I never got in deep trouble so far.

MARCH 28, 2008 – THINGS I DIDN'T DO IN SALVADOR DA BAHIA DE TUDOS OS SANTOS

2009-02-12T18:18:00.000-08:00

318 days ago

- I didn’t buy any souvenir T-shirt (I bought an unique one from a very nice creative couple I met via Internet – it’s in English and not conenected to Brazil at all)

- I didn’t take any pictures of the traditional acarajé vendors nor of the Barra Lighthouse or beach (the only one I frequented). But I did take pictures in the Paraiso Tropical, a type of “best kept secret”, a quite expensive restaurant owned by an agronomist who cultivates all kinds of exotic less known fruits, uses them for cooking and for an impressive fruit plate surprise – free, so to say, but when a main course costs about $50, the fruits are probably included. They also make frozen drinks out of all these fruits and vodka.

- I didn’t go out to dance samba, but probably the best moments I spent were the evenings in Bom Jesus dos Pobres, under the almond trees by the beach, listening to Cristina and her friends playing guitar and singing. I also danced on the street in Pelourinho on Tuesday night, the weekly party day and listened to the great Rumpilezz latin-jazz band.

- I didn’t flirt with any brazilian hottie, the ones that flirted with me weren’t hot, so it was rather annoying. Like the venerable poet who told me I’m very sexy (muito gostosa). How pathetic. Oh, with one exception, a music shop cute seller that I briefly spoke to, one night in Pelourinho, he had good music taste and liked my way of dancing.

- I didn’t buy any CD’s or books. But I have CD’s at home since long ago and Eric lent me a few contemporary authors’ books (Marcelo Rubens Paiva, Rubem Fonseca, Ignacio de Loyola Brandao) that made me see the modern, sarcastic, cruel face of the Brazilian literature.

- I didn’t go to the Museum of Modern Art - Solar do Unhao - or the Bahia Art Museum, but to the aniversary of the Paulo Darzè Art Gallery, exhibiting the works of world famous Tunga, I saw quite a few paintings there by a well known painter – Carybé, that I really liked. Not to mention the interesting people I met. Although these kind of events gather the same types of people all over the world. I also happened to meet a theater director – Macario – the night before I left, at the bus stop, who told me about the “cordel”, a type of story telling poetry (comic or epic).

- I didn’t go to any candomblé celebration but I managed to get to a terreiro do santo in a rather weird, poor looking area – Garcia and the pai do santo threw the caori for me and told me my orixas are: Oba, Oxossi, Yemanja and Oxala. Oba – the main one, is a warrior female, brave, stubborn and sometimes aggressive, but not mean. Looks like me.

MARCH 29, 2008 - FRUITS I DISCOVERED IN BAHIA

2009-02-12T18:05:00.000-08:00

320 days ago

Cajá, pitanga, umbú, açaí, pinha, mangaba, cupuaçu, acerola, biribiri, jaca, ingá, cajú (not the nut, the fruit), jenipapo. Dendê and its oil. Not to mention the tropical fruits I knew from before: papaya, different types of mango (pink one...mmmm), goiaba, jackfruit, avocado, maracuja-passion fruit. Here's a picture of the famous caju nut...up in the tree, the orange part gives juice or wine (I had it in Belize). And a mound of different fruits, try to guess them:)

The abundance of fruits there almost blocks me. Speechless.

March 24, 2008 - SALVADOR DA BAHIA DE TUDOS OS SANTOS AND MORE

2009-02-12T18:04:00.000-08:00

325 days ago

Monday, March 17th, I landed after 4 other stops: Porto Alegre, change flights in Sao Paulo, Belo Horizonte and Porto Seguro. I was starving and Cristina could not wait for me in the airport, so I took the bus with some Uruguayans, thanks to a lady whose nephews waited for her at the airport. I got off at the right stop (by pure hazard) and then I went round in circles looking for the address because somehow I didn’t get the directions right. With all my luggage on, obviously, in the tropical temperature. My hosts were to be Cristina, baiana, university professor of Education Sciences and Eric, from Québec, anthropologist and professor too. I caught Cristina in the door, as she was going for her evening walk. We went out, walking by the sea as the evening was coming down on the city. Apparently it always comes down around 6pm, all year round. That’s annoying.

She made me drink coconut water and taste acarajé (one of the delicious afro-brasilian foods, deep fried bean paste balls, filled with shrimp, vatapa and God knows what else, made and sold ont the street by decorous black women). We sit down, had a few beers and started to get to know each other, as we hardly spoke in Montréal at her good-bye parties and only exchanged a few e-mails.

Back home I got to know her angel like son: Enrico, a green eyed and blondish 4 years old who speaks Portuguese and French. Eric, her husband, was giving classes until late.

Tuesday Cristina took me to the Porto da Barra beach and went to work. The water was crystal clear and although I had left my towel and had no goggles I enjoyed a lot my encounter with the tropical seas after such a long absence (since I left the Caribbean cruiseships in 2004). At lunch time I went home and had some delicious crab pasta Eric has made. I spent the afternoon in the Pelourinho, with Titilho, history teacher and Cristina’s friend, who accepted to play the guide. The historical district is charming, old and colourful, but a big tourism shop window. Thanks God I don’t appear too exotic here, rather local.

Mercado Modelo is a big shopping center for souvenirs: music instruments, statuettes, t-shirts, blouses and skirts, masks and jewels, etc. The t-shirts are much nicer than in other cities, I guess I’ll get some. I was really impressed with two Baroque churches: Sao Francisco and Igreja da Ordem Terceira de Sao Francisco. The first with an impressive gold decoration inside, the second with a flourinshing façade. There is still a lot left to explore. Including terreiro do santo, the place dedicated to afro-brazilian cults, where the divinities are called orixas and the ceremonies candomblè. I have to find out who’s “daughter” am I or, in other words, who’s my orixa. The pai/mae do santo (father or mother of saint) will ask on my behalf.

Wednesday it rained the whooooooooooole day. I went out only to exchange money and to meet a charming couple who’s thinking about moving to Montreal. Their 3 years old daughter, Olivia, looks like a little mulata fairy.

From Thursday to Sunday I was invited to Bom Jesus dos Pobres, to spend Easter holidays with Cristina’s family, in her parents beach house. A line of colourful houses watching over the sea, most of the neighbours are lifetime friends or family. Unbelievable landscape: a line of hills covered by lush tropical forest, reddish and whitish rocks and fine sand beaches that get larger and larger during the low tide and get narrower and narrower as the sea grows. The food is amazing: vatapa, caruru, bobo de camarao (shrimp), manisoba (mandioca leaves pure), moqueica (could be made of fish or shrimp) and mariscada (contains all kinds of seafood, including softshell crabs - siri mole – that people fish at night with lamps, during the low tide). Plus passion fruit, goiava, papaya, mango and other fruits whose names I won’t even bother remembering, they are far too many.

At night people would play guitar in front of the house and sing Brazilian songs: popular music, bossanova, samba de roda.... Most of Cristina’s friends can sing. Most probably I’m the only one who can’t and won’t. And they do much more than singing and playing guitar. A few examples:

Teca, her cousin, is a psychologist (who works in a clinic but also in prisons) and a prize winner amateur photographer. Valeria studied music and fine arts and is a professional photographer. Jacira, the aunt, teaches Education Sciences at the university, she’s a hard core woman who knows how to live life. Mercia is studying cultural and historical tourism, doing her masters degree. “Café” is a designer and caricaturist, he also teaches. Cristina’s parents are Cleo – she paints and Camilo – he’s a lawyer. Everyone is fun, open and has stories to tell, questions to ask and answers to my questions. They are not just talented, they are warm hearted and received me with open arms. I felt like part of the group already on the first day and I’m already dreaming about coming back. It’s probably also the fact it is not a strange culture to me, partly because I speak the language, partly because I was familiar with some things due to the Jorge Amado novels and certain films and finally because on some sides it’s similar to the Caribbean.

The boat trip on the river Paraguaçú was memorable, floating amongst green hills, the thick vegetation was a refuge for runaway slaves (a quilombo). We stopped in Sao Francisco to admire an amazing church, now left at the mercy of time and weather. We drank beer in the middle of the square, the village is hidden by the trees, invisible from the river. Only the church faces it and a few poor homes. Almost fiction. We had a rain shower on the way back, but the dolphins swimming by the boat sweetened the pill.

Saturday night, at Easter time, we burned Judas on the beach, an impressive silhouette, all dressed and filled with newspapers. The custom also requires a testament to be written and read. Cristina was in charge. For the charming Romanian with big feet he left his shoes. Not that he was wearing any. In the village main square they were also planning some games to take place, like climbing a slippery pole covered with grease, with money and prizes on top, or hitting with a bat a hanging ball filled with prizes, with eyes covered.

Anyway, it’s just amazing how Cristina and Eric, busy with their work routine and little Enrico, invited me to stay over. People here work really hard, sometimes at weird times, early in the morning and late in the evening, having several jobs. Cristina told me otherwise they won’t survive. So the clichés that people in the tropics don’t really work, are lazy, etc. are just bad taste jokes, spread by the ones who don’t really know a damn thing about the country. They work hard but they also know how to enjoy themselves, even with little money. Some people just don’t get that.

I don’t know how will I get to know more of Salvador in just four days. On Thursday night there’s a good bye dinner home. On Tuesday and Wednesday I want to go see some free theater in the Pelourinho district. I also plan to go swimming in Porto da Barra every day. Hope to do it all. I’m also anxious because I have to watch out and be careful every single moment. Salvador does not suffer because of a high violence degree but robberies are frequent. It’s stresful then to be a single female tourist. Maybe I’m not that adventurous after all

MARCH 16th - END OF CARNIVAL, END OF SUMMER, PUTTING THINGS TOGETHER

2009-02-12T18:03:00.000-08:00

325 days ago

After spending 12 wonderful days with my unbelievably intelligent, funny, sensitive and playful mother, after counting 8 rainy days that won’t let the Carnival get to its end, it finally ended. I went a few more times to Teatro de Verano, laughed hard listening to the murga songs and I anxiously waited for the results with the Araca la Cana members, in the Club Universal, drinking cheap “clarete” rosé wine. Araca got 14th out of 15, Agarrate Catalina got the first prize. So it ended. I think Catalina missed a little the satyre and playfulness that go with Carnival. It was the best show, complete and professional but from my point of view it has to do more with theater than with Carnival.

During the last two weeks I went every day to the National Library that survives in pitiful conditions, although the staff is charming and helpful. It it also the noisiest library I’ve ever seen. I also paid a visit to the City Hall (Intendencia) looking for the murga lyrics, Curtidores de Hongos and La Margarita, winners of the 2nd and 3rd prizes, never answered my e-mails. It was hard to find the Tourism and Celebrations office and to get off the elevator on the 3rd floor (it kept going up and down and stopping everywhere).

Meanwhile I also visited the Pisano winery and wine cellar – quite impressive, including the family story (Italian and Basque roots). We got the best treatment: a delicious “picada” (homemade jamon crudo, salami, parmesan and Colonia cheese) and five bottles of wine: pink champagne, rosé Cabernet Franc/Syrah, Pinot Noir, Pisano Arretxea (a perfect red cépage) and a sweet dessert wine. I went out with two bottles of Pisano Arretxea, I couldn’t resist the temptation, although it wasn’t cheap. The Tannat grapes make a heavy wine I absolutely love, typical for Uruguay.

Before flying to Brazil I went to a small milonga: El Farolito, and I got to dance a bit. I also met a tango teacher and decided to invest in private classes. I like the rioplatense tango culture, the way the men embrace you for a 3-4 minutes eternity. It’s like a speechless conversation that we both know it it would last as long as the song.

Than time has come to embark for Salvador, located in the Bahia de Tudos os Santos, in the north-east of Brasil. An old dream of mine, feeded by the Jorge Amado novels.

MARCH 1, 2008 - SPRING COMES TO EUROPE, IN THE SOUTH THE AUTUMNS CALLS ITS RIGHTS

2009-02-12T17:35:00.000-08:00

348 days ago

I spent about two weeks with my wonderful mother downhere, starting in Buenos Aires, moving throughout the Uruguayan seaside and Montevideo, where she got to know the Carnival, here, there and elsewhere you have some samples.

We had a great time everywhere, in Buenos Aires we went to the Zoo and the National Art Museum. I think I prefer the rundown bohemian San Telmo to the fancier neighbourhoods of Recoleta and Palermo. In the night we went to a couple of milongas: "Torquato Tasso" in San Telmo and "Canning" in Palermo. I also danced in Plaza Dorrego on Sunday, even salsa There were so many people everywhere that there was little place to dance the fancy way and I had a feeling the Argentinians prefer to keep it simple and tight, as tight as possible

At the seaside, we went to Cabo Polonio, La Pedrera, Punta del Este, Punta Ballena (check this amazing local artist ) and Piriapolis. We enjoyed the fine sand beaches, the cool and sometimes dangerous ocean waters, the delicious fish and wine. Not to mention desserts! People here are great company, kind and helpful.

In Montevideo we went to a couple of small art museums and wandered around, two nights at Teatro de Verano enjoying Carnival, especially my beloved murga. My mom made friends with my friends Cristina and Rosana and the very special Sofia, a Romanian who's 83 years old and lives here since she was 25.

Now is time for me to go back to work, start studying hard before the countdown starts, I'm in the middle of my time here. Long live the murga, anyway

FEBRUARY 14, 08 - BUENOS AIRES

2009-02-12T13:41:00.000-08:00

364 days ago

It's a beautiful city, but...too similar to Europe and without the Montevideo oceanside walk. Big, impressive, noisy, dusty. I think I start to prefer nature tourism to city tourism. Give me some blue and green. I would have loved to go to Bariloche. I have to come back for a real escapade, far from the big cities.

I love the hostel, very comfy, although noise is a big problem too at night, at least in my room that opens towards the street. There are people from Belgium, UK, Chile, Austria, a few from Brasil. The Argentinians who run the "Puerto Limon" are doing a great job.

Today I bought my first tango shoes, excellent quality and price. I can't stop thinking that bargains here means that people can't afford much. I met a daughter and mother from Istanbul who were buying shoes. Small world.

FEBRUARY 8, 2008 - RAINY DAYS AND GREAT PEOPLE

2009-02-12T13:40:00.004-08:00

370 days ago

From my point of view I'm not having much fun but a great time nevertheless.

Kind of lonely, wandering inside Teatro de Verano almost every night, chatting with the few people I know, going out with the Araca la Cana group at different tablados, always coming home around 2am. People here are great, with a nice sense of humour, generous and open minded, also tranquil - a winning combination.

And the murga is what I was looking for: an open book, a mirror of the society. I'm glad I came, in a few words. My theory is still foggy and my methodology bibliography basically inexistent. I hope to make it though. The object of my research is simply fantastic.

JANUARY 24, 2007 - CARNIVAL KNOCKS AT THE DOOR

2009-02-12T13:40:00.003-08:00

385 days ago

I'm the one knocking at his door either, considering I came all the way down south to chase it.

I had a few very pleasant encounters these days and did my first interview with the extremely talented Marcel Keoroglian, writer and performer for Asaltantes con Patente. I met Gustavo Remedi who wrote a very interesting book about Uruguyan Carnival in 1996 and Juan Carlos Alberte - counsellor for the Coca-Cola cultural patrimony program "Huellas". As Gustavo teaches in the US it was a rich exchange and although I'm not a big Coke fan I have to admit their initiative is a real service for the community. My free pass for Teatro de Verano is not ready yet.

I also went to see three more rehearsals: La Gran Siete and once more "my" murgas: Araca la Cana (Eye to the cops) and Agarrate Catalina (something like "Hold your pants" in the sense of Pay attention/Be careful). All the chorus members enjoy what they are doing and have an enthusiastic public too. I feel is that when Carnival starts is leaves the neighbourhoods (the 'round the corner traditional social clubs) and moves towards more central areas where the "tablados" are. The City hall makes real efforts to keep the Carnival alive for the people who cannot afford to pay the entrance in the open air spaces of performance, but the mobile "tablados" that are paid by the authorities and go around the city are not the same like having a neighbourhood tablado every night. Murga and Carnival are also a story of neighbourhood solidarity and fiesta and this is why I came all the way down south.

Still, the performers keep their daily jobs up to Carnival and are really coming from all social classes and have all sorts of occupations. This makes me hope the traditions will be kept alive.

Now I'm getting ready to go out and play, seeing the "desfile" - inaugural parade. Ready to welcome MOMO, the god of laughs, who warms us up and brings us together more than anything.

JANUARY 15, NIGHT - A DIOS MOMO

2009-02-12T13:40:00.001-08:00

393 days ago

I just landed from my first murga show: “El tablado del tiempo” by Asaltantes con Patente. After getting lost because I tried so hard to get there by walking. A taxi saved my life, then the show started much later after I got there.

Anyway, this Monday – Tuesday I’ve been walking around alone, wondering what am I doing here, what’s this crazyness to come all the way downhere and sweat in the heat without being able to get out for a few days because it’s too damn expensive. Why on Earth did I choose Montevideo and this crazy murga? Besides it’s so much like in Romania or elsewhere in Europe. I should have told my mother to come with me to Brasil instead of Uruguay.

Then the murga came alive. The dedication. The talent. The spirit. The warmth. The liaison with the public, who knew so many lyrics by heart. It hit me so hard that my eyes filled with tears. I saw Eduardo “Pitufo” Lombardo and his wonderful energy on stage, I saw Marcel Keoroglian who’s probably one of the greatest comic actors I’ve ever had a chance to see. People I knew about from the “Contrafarsa” monography and from YouTube.

I remembered - that’s why I came! Because I believe in it. In smart jokes and collective joy, in humor and the feeling of belonging as an universal cure. Murga is romantic and fun at the same time. And those people on stage have been doing it since childhood sometimes. I believe in foolish people, I believe in people who believe, and sing and dance and laugh and hope this will change the world a little! I believe in this part of me who believes in it and dragged me all the way down here against all odds.

I have a feeling Carnival here is a miracle, so I dedicate this night to Dios Momo, the Carnival God, the God of laughs and good spirits, who transports us for a while away from this earthly world.

JANUARY 15 - FIVE DAYS AFTER LANDING IN MONTEVIDEO

2009-02-12T13:39:00.000-08:00

393 days ago

Here I am, in a city that reminds me of Bucharest and Constanta in Romania and some beach resorts nearby Lisbon in Portugal. Beautiful rundown buildings, from the neo-classical belle époque and the art nouveau/art déco period. A long ocean drive, about 18 kilometers. The estuary water is opaque and darkish, but when I swam in it seemed clean.

LAN Chile is an excellent airline and NYC airport services suck. That’s why my suitcases arrived 30 hours after me. At least nothing was missing.

The views from the plane were impressive: above Newark in NY (the Huston and the Atlantic), Santiago de Chile (the Andes) and Montevideo (Rio de la Plata estuary). I also stuck my nose to the shopwindows in the Santiago Airport: great crafts, I’m sure I’ll get something on the way back.

Ariel, the lawyer I was in touch with before coming, waited for me at the airport, took me to the house and invited me for dinner at their place afterwards. There were his wife, Martha and a friend: Jorge. All very kind, cultured and well travelled. The streets I saw reminded me of Bucharest and so did the furniture in their house, very 30’s looking. The house I’m in for now looks like some after-war home, with no phone or Internet, old, dirty and smelly, yuck! It was a tourist trap but I’ll move away for better. The area is beautiful though, with the huge Parque Batlle next door.

There are many palm trees and amazing blossoming hibiscus around and a sleepish ambiance due to the terrible heat. I have been told the ozone layer is thinner here and the sun rays far more dangerous. Days are very long, the sun sets after 9pm and people eat dinner extremely late (about 10 – 10:30pm). I’ve even seen a colibri and some small green parrots flying around. Cuuuuute!

On Friday I went to meet Rosana, a communications professor who has Romanian roots, Internet providence facilitated our encounter. Her in-laws house looks amazing too, with high ceilings, an Art Nouveau mosaic and a shadowed patio. I went out with her and Cristina, Spanish professor for foreigners, we had a great time. I arranged with Cristina to move over to her place for the same amount of money. She took me to the Pocitos beach the day after and afterwards to her place. Classy and cozy, with two green patios, two cats and one deaf old cute doggy: Ursula. So I’ll have to bear with this fox den for two more weeks only!

On Friday I also had lunch with Fernando Tetes, a journalist working a lot on the Carnival, quite a character, very nice and bubblying personality.

Saturday night – dinner at Rosana’s place, special guest: Gustavo V., who teaches various things at an American university and also wrote about Carnival, which he abhorres now. The whole gathering was quite fun and interesting actually, cultured and sarcastic, and nobody likes the murga! So far the intellectuals I’ve seen here are snobbing it for some reason, maybe I’ll discover why.

Sunday morning I broke the toilet floater about 10:00am while I was expecting Ana, her daughter lives in Montréal and send her a few things. She came right then, so she helped me tying the thing up as well as we could, to stop the water and put a note on the toilet cover. My “host” is out at the beaches, as mostly everyone is in January and I can’t be bothered, so I keep throwing in buckets of water and that’s about it. I spent the morning with Ana – same fine irony, bitter humour and culture I remarked with the other Uruguayans so far. She left me with Anabela and Fito, old time friends of a Montréal friend.

We had some lunch by Parque Rodo and the waiter heard us talking about murga, so he told me he was part of “Anti-murga BCG”, a very famous group that became a theater one now, no more Carnival. He will give me some contacts. Then we wandered around the Rambla, far and away, stopping every now and then to buy another big bottle of “Patricia” beer. Around 8 we arrived in the Old City – Plaza Zabala, in front of the Cathedral. All good and all closed…we just sit on a bench and a couple of other friends stopped by, so we ended up in an artsy looking apartment, in an amazingly renovated house, having beer, sausage and Colonia cheese. Alegria! We left about 11pm, slowly walking on the 18 de Julio boulevard. It was a very long day.

Monday I did pretty much nothing until 4pm, saw none, just went to the supermarket and made a salad, taking my time big time. Then I went for a long walk along 18 de Julio and deep inside the Ciudad Vieja, just looking around and having a great ice-cream from La Cigale. Men here are very Mediterranean, they look straight at you if they find you attractive and make you loud compliments. So far they were not vulgar, rather nice and even funny (May God keep you beautiful as you are now; There are people down the street keeping pretty women from going, you, they’ll never let you go!; Oh my, my friends, she’s the most beautiful thing passing by today, how will I survive?!).

So far so good then, only Montevideo is not as cheap as I thought, so I’ll better be careful with the small scholarship I have:(

DECEMBER 22ND, 07 - COUNTDOWN BEFORE FLYING TO URUGUAY

2009-02-12T13:38:00.000-08:00

418 days ago

Oh, my! This is so close I didn't even see it coming, busy with finishing the semester, with work and scarce social life. I'm not ready to plunge yet, I don't know where I'm going, not sure I know what I'm doing, can I get some more time, somehow? Alas, nowadays it's so complicated to change by even one day! Besides, Carnival in Montevideo starts on January 24, so I do have to be there in time. In time also to enjoy the beach for a short while. Punta del Diablo maybe, that I saw in the same name movie and was charmed by it.

Speaking of movies, I saw the last Coen brothers last night - "No Country for Old Men" - really good, the same sharp irony and cold blood gore that characterizes them. An endless "blood calls blood" story, a world that lost its signage and wanders. And my beloved Javier Bardem in marble cold psycho killer part. Tommy Lee Jones with his rough human warmth he displayed so masterfully in "The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada". The last impression I got from the movie was that when you stop believing in old fashioned values that's nothing left to believe in.

Getting ready for Christmas: bought my gift, some of the food, little more decoration. For me Christmas is about spreading joy around us, keeping people together, making our dear ones feel loved. So I'm employing myself for this purpose: please people. Cook for them, build a nice ambiance and keep them smiling. What could be better in life.

My lovely friend Andreea gets married on the 27th (will I, ever?), I was her testimony Wednesday at the Romanian Consulate - very nice and cozy.

The bottom line is I can't wait to go to Uruguay and I'm so frightened at the same time. Nothing ever goes exactly the way we expect it.

ME ON CJNT TV, TALKING ABOUT MUJERES POETAS EN EL PAIS DE LAS NUBES - DECEMBER 1st, 2007

2009-02-12T13:35:00.000-08:00

437 days ago

Recorded here and here.

NOVEMBER 23 2007 - MUJERES POETAS EN EL PAIS DE LAS NUBES AFTERTHOUGHTS

2009-02-12T13:34:00.002-08:00

447 days ago

November 7 - 15th, Ciudad de Mexico/ Huajuapan de Leon/ Tlaxiaco/ Chalcatongo

Mixteca: dark skinned people with bright eyes and big open hearts, colourful dresses, colourful houses, strong flavours, spicy sauces (oh, mole, mole!), fresh cheeses, dry brownish reddish landscapes contrasting with bright green trees. Different time perception, different meals time, different types of food.

A kind of tension floating in the air: political problems, gender problems, immigration problems, social/racial problems. A kind of poetry floating in the air too. People open to sharing, people open to the magic of words, people who feel and are able to translate it in writing.

Mujeres poetas - from almost all Latin American countries and Spain: Argentina, Chile, Brasil, Bolivia, Venezuela, Colombia, Costa Rica, Salvador, Republica Dominicana, Puerto Rico and...California. Mexico above all. Strong, energetic, sensitive, ready to speak up, so many of my age between 20 and 70 years old.

An extremely intense week, filling my eyes, my tastebuds, my hearing, most and foremost my hungry soul.

NOVEMBER 2ND, 07 - A FEW MORE CRIMES PERPETRATED BY ROMANIANS

2009-02-12T13:34:00.001-08:00

468 days ago

No big deal, a woman in Rome raped and murdered by a Romanian Roma (Gypsy); sportsmen from the national Olympic boxing lot playing shop lifting in Chicago; Russian sportsmen got their equipment stolen in Bucharest.

Maybe the EU should reinstall the vista system, to cool down some spirits and filter at the frontiers who's entering the "civilized zone".

And think we just won the Palme d'Or in Cannes, young Romanian writers get published abroad and the world just started to see us in a different light.

I feel so bad about all this! I don't know how to feel about being Romanian anymore. It looks like we are either very good or extremely bad.

So I'd better become extremely good soon, so I won't be mistaken for another one!

OCTOBER 31 - I DONT CARE ABOUT HALLOWEEN!

2009-02-12T13:33:00.000-08:00

470 days ago

All this American fuss, anything works as long as it makes you shop, it's amazing how many pumpkin images are around, I feel bombed with pumpkins! Good for the kids though.

What I care about is the ROMANIAN FILM FESTIVAL - Yahoooooooooo!, at Cinema du Parc, starting this very Friday. I'll go see Restul e tacere/The Rest is Silence by one of my favourite directors: Nae Caranfil, I miss him Unfortunately between school, work and my next week trip to Mexico I won't have time for Cocosul decapitat/The Beheaded Rooster, by Radu Gabrea or Niki Ardelean, colonel în rezerva/Niki & Flo by a Romanian cinema sacred monster, Lucian Pintilie.

I was lucky to see "4 luni, 3 saptamâni si 2 zile"/ "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days" at Festival du Nouveau Cinema (the best in Montréal and one of the best in the world, I bet, considering the quality of the films, although this year I didn't pick anything good, except documentary "Samba!" by Adam Stepan and the acceptable "Deficit" by Gael Garcia Bernal. What a poignant film! What a technique, beyond the sulfurous illegal abortion subject! It's a drama but at times it feels like a thriller, maybe that's what Communism was to us, thanks God I was too young at that time, 15 in 1989!

I prefer "California Dreamin'" though, a sad comedy, a funny drama, whatever you wanna call it. Armand Assante wasn't that great, actually his character was supposed not to show too much, so it's hard to say. But Razvan Vasilescu...he's such a great actor, so charismatic and versatile, I hope to be able to see him on stage again when I go back home...what's home, once more, where's home?

It's where these films were made too.

OCTOBER 5, 2007 - ABOUT LUCK AND HAPPINESS

2009-02-12T13:32:00.000-08:00

495 days ago

A friend told me about a book: "Eat, Pray, Love", by Elizabeth Gilbert. The story of her 1 year trip in Italy (Eat), India (Pray) and Bali - Indonesia (Love), after a painful divorce.

Lucky her, that she had the money to fly to Italy right away to learn Italian and enjoy the food, to continue to an ashram (I bet it had air conditioning) and to beautiful Bali, straight into the arms of a Brazilian 18 years older who couldn't wait to love this 30's blond American. Give me a break! She's a writer for the "Sex and the City" characters. Smart but easy.

I really enjoyed the NY Times opinion.

And this quote by a fortuneteller reading her palm:

"You have more good luck than anyone I've ever met. You will live a long time, have many friends, many experiences. . . . You only have one problem in your life. You worry too much."

I think this applies to myself. And the story of her life could be mine a little.

SEPTEMBER 10 - ABOUT HIKING, TURNING 33 AND NOT MANY OTHER HAPPENINGS

2009-02-12T13:28:00.000-08:00

520 days ago

What really happened during the last month? Not much, really. Une vie paisible.

I went hiking about three weeks ago in the Adirondacks, went up Algonquin again - it was freezing cold on top.

Last week in New Hampshire, we left Saturday evening and camped by a fishing lake, not far from the highway, between two mountains, the Sunday morning was glorious, even at 6:30am. Then off to - Kinsman Ridge Trail - we started at 9am (made coffee on the side of the road, in the trail's parking lot), a loooooooooooong way through the woods, up and down, up and down, just across mountains, without seeing much really: a valley adorned by lakes, a swamp, a river with small waterfalls (oh, the nostalgy of the Blue Hole in Jamaica, I so wanted to take a dip in the fresh mountain stream!). I took off my boots and soaked my feet actually.

It was nice just to breath crisp thinner air and to see the sun playing hide and seek through the foliage and branches. So much green all over, moss and leaves, I felt like touching the trees, the stones, the moss and the water, feeling happy just to be alive.

We met a group of people, maybe students, that were traveling for 5 months, all the way from Georgia, following the Appalachian trail. One had two nice medium sized dogs with him, poor things, they have been exercising a lot also.

The first peak we touched wasn't even a peak, but a look out, we just sat down and ate. We actually reached the first real peak - South Kinsman, around 4:30pm - a full day hike time, after quite a rough strenuous part, especially considering all the walking before. I was left alone in the middle, three people went ahead and a couple was way behind - lucky me! So I had to do all the scrambling by myself, it comforted my self esteem, but my morals were running downhill.

The great view of Lafayette mountain only made me think "I wish we did this one instead". Sigh and eat - we spent about an hour or more there, in the warm air, under a clement generous sun. Two guys went ahead, there was the organizer/guide, the couple and myself. North Kinsman wasn't too bad either, then going down took us on another stony trail. We didn't reach down until 9:30pm - quite an adventure. We had lamps and during the last hour I thought we might be on the wrong path, as it seemed to go up again.

There was only me and Gabor, the brain behind this trip, we ended up at the Lafayette camp. We had to hitchhike right afterwards to reach the meeting point where the cars were. Fortunately two people that went climbing were there, so we stayed in the car until the two braves that were supposed to go all the way to Cannon showed up. They actually followed the same route we did, but instead of hitchhiking they walked for 1 1/2 hours. Back to the camp we were lucky enough to meet the two last lost pieces of our party right away. Apparently they also met a bear before.

We pirated a camping spot, at 11 past nobody was around to ask us funny questions. The showers cost $1 in quarters for 5 minutes, I was missing one. A French girl in the group gave it to me. I was standing naked in the cabin enjoying the last seconds waiting for the hot water to run over my tired body when - Cling! - the last coin was rejected!!! I had to put on something quickly and run back, Gabor was still arranging the car, so I was happy enough to get my coin - I ran back, put it in, the shower started right away, someone left it on! I had to get rid of my clothes in seconds and finally got my birthday shower at midnight sharp.

Happy and clean under the gleaming stars on a crystal clear sky I made my way towards the sleeping bag. We had a long lazy morning with our own fresh coffee again (my indispensable Turkish). Then off to the Falling Waters trail.

to see three gorgeous waterfalls and the Flume Gorge, that made me think of the old times when ferns were trees and dinosaurs were wandering around.

So I had a beautiful birthday, sprayed not by champagne but by flowing mountain streams.

And I had some of my great friends over for a party on Saturday, we danced tango, salsa, samba, Arabic music...since 9pm up to 2am. My temp roomie, Bogdan, made a delicious genuine cake, mixing: lady fingers, apricot/mango jam, home made chocolate syrup, caramelized almonds, Nutella, whipped cream and strawberries. The result was surprisingly amazing, I had to say I was a bit afraid. The Catalonia cava is a great champagne replacement. I got many nice gifts, like an etno collar from Ecuador, milongas from Uruguay, a silk scarf, etc, etc.

So all is well that doesn't end but continues.

The tango classes, 2nd level, will start again in two weeks, school started again last week, I'm looking forward to the poetry festival in Mexico in November...maybe a few more hikes.

I am a happy, serene, fulfilled woman, if I change my mind tomorrow, somebody there, please remind me this.

AUGUST 11, 2007 - 11TH COMMANDMENT: DON'T COMPLAIN

2009-02-12T13:21:00.001-08:00

550 days ago

I've read recently about Leonid Stadnik, the world's tallest man (2.56cm; 8'5.5"), a veterinarian from a poor village in Ukraine who cannot practice because of his condition, as he continues to grow and his health is deteriorating. Obviously he doesn't have the money for surgery.

He hates all the attention he gets and only wants to be a normal person. He never had a girlfriend and doesn't hope for one (although the two tallest Chinese are getting married). He considers his physical condition a curse. I was so sorry to hear about it...such a touching story. He seems such a nice man.

A good lesson in a world where everyone is trying so hard to be famous.

AUGUST 2, 2007 - IT WAS A BLUE MONDAY

2009-02-12T13:17:00.000-08:00

559 days ago

Ingmar Bergman and Michelangelo Antonioni died - two masters who stepped away from the world's stage.

I used to admire Antonioni about 15 years ago, the existential anxious moods of his über bourgeois heroines, the people trying to escape in Zabriskie Point and Blow-up. I have to see again his capolavori L'Avventura, La Notte, L'Eclisse, Il Deserto Rosso...

With Ingmar Bergman it was constant admiration, it never dropped. "The Seventh Seal" is one of my all times favourite, next to Fellini's "Satyricon". Maybe I just like dark fairy tales.

I saw his last film, "Saraband", in 2005 - another masterpiece, so simple and powerful, also due to the extreme expressiveness of Liv Ullmann and Erland Josephson, two veterans. I thought then, with great sadness, that it is probably the last time his name appears on a new release. Last year, in spring, I saw a documentary trilogy about him - very impressive. Not an easy man to leave with, who chose to be alone on a windswept island in Sweden at the end of his life, still facing his demons, he was saying.

Adieu, Maestros!

JULY 29, 2007 - FINALLY MISIA

2009-02-12T13:16:00.000-08:00

559 days ago

I'm in love with this amazing fado singer since I first heard the "Garras dos sentidos" album in 1998 playing in "Mes amis" bar in Bucharest. She's extremely intelligent, cultured and sensitive. She fills the stage with her strong charismatic yet modest presence.

Not everyone with a beautiful voice becomes a great artist. Misia is special, she conceives her own albums, she works with the best contemporary poets (dead or alive and manages to get far beyond the very talented Mariza and Dulce Pontes. She's the best ambassador of Portugal and its culture. I hope to hear her sing again next to rio Tejo one day.

2009-02-12T13:13:00.000-08:00

JULY 15, 2007 - SLOW PACED SUMMER 578 days ago

Wow, I got so lazy, one month without writing. I wrote a few more poems instead I even joined a group of poets: "Noches de poesia" And here I am.
It's a great idea, the dedicated organizer, Elizabeth Robert, organizes multilingual poetry nights in a charming café. Most of the poems are in French, English and Spanish, but this time we also had Arabic and Malay. It was hard to read in front of people that actually published their poems, but still...it has to start somewhere. So I did read, in Spanish, French and Romanian. That was on June 13th, and now we have to wait for autumn for this to happen again

I also met a few very interesting and charming people: Adrian and Angel from Cuba and Magdalena from Uruguay (she's a journalist for Radio Canada in Spanish and interviewed me and Adrian recently about our immigration experience and my future trip to her city, Montevideo). There were many others, French and English speaking Canadians, poets from Argentina, Mexico, Chile, etc., but I got closer to these three. Even closer that I would have ever thought, but that's another story.

Although I ended my summer vacation, that in theory lasted only until June 5, with the two long week-ends of June 24th (Cape Cod camping trip) and July 1st (New York City). The first with a group of friends - 2 more girls and 3 guys, the second by myself, meeting my cousin and some friends that live in NYC.

CAPE COD

It was so relieving to see the verdant ocean waters again, I loved the sand dunes in Cape Cod, also saw lots of seals, drank by a fire on the beach and finally got to swim in the sea after almost two years. The Atlantic there resembles in colour, saltiness and smell to the Black Sea in Romania, except the seals They were coming soooo close to the beach we could see their luscious skin and beautiful eyes. I even succeeded to drag everyone in the group in the cold water in North Truro. We found out afterwards that Chatham had better temperatures so we satisfied our crave for swimming there.

We had fresh lobster at Moby Dick's, in Wellfleet. Also clambake, but the local Monomoy Island clams were full of sand and our Norwegian friend, Petter, said they were overcooked too. But the lobster was great and I actually enjoyed fighting to get the sweet meat out. Another nice surprise were the Bulgarian students serving us, apparently they have more opportunities to leave the country now with work&travel programs.

We tried to get to the Beachcomber Club on Cahoon Hollow beach also in Wellfleet, but the entrance fee was $20 for some doubtful live music, so we went for a beach walk instead and found a lady sitting by the fire with her daughter. We convinced her and her husband to let us put down the fire and some American in their 20's, students on vacation, joined us. They were from a mix family, one brother and sister and one step brother who's mother married the other two's father. We ended up in one of the summer houses their family (apparently very wealthy) had around and shortly after us, girls, managed to slip into beds, really tired, we had to get up and go, because the father called Then we went around in circles because one of our guys forgot his jacket with the wallet in the house and we didn't have any phone number or anything, so we tried to find it again on the winding dark roads! Quite fun, especially considering how tired we were

The second evening we went to Provincetown, the biggest on the peninsula and famous for its gay profile. I found it to be very small, we had decent food at Clem and Ursie's colourful looking shack. I spoke to an Albanian from Kosovo bartender, he was also studying in Washington in IT and was thinking about going back to the Balkans once he will finish his studies. I found Provincetown very similar to Key West, Saint Thomas (US Virgin Islands) and Grand Cayman, in terms of architecture and signage. Apparently it is the American tourist place look.

All together, I didn't find Cape Cod extremely beautiful or exciting, but pleasant indeed. And I guess it is the closest area to Montréal where you can swim in the sea.

NEW YORK CITY

Well, being by myself I couldn't really go out at night, but considering I go out a lot in Montréal, it's not a big deal. I stayed with Jane, an extremely nice and interesting lady I met through my cousin, in Upper West Side Manhattan, between Central Park and Riverside Park (along the Hudson). Her building has an amazing terrace on the 16th floor, too bad is not used. And I saw around (92nd Street) a lot of similar empty terraces - so sad.

I walked a lot through Central Park, I lied there in the sun and read, watched the sunset on the Hudson riverbank, saw the Neue Galerie Museum - displaying an exhibition on Austrian and German expressionism and Van Gogh's influence on it and some of the Metropolitan Museum - like and exhibition on Venice and the Islam - extremely interesting.

I met my cousin Nicu, who got married last year, with his wife and my friend Michael, the bass jazz player, with his other half, Celena. I listened to him inside Jimmy, between East Village and Greenwich Village. I discovered this way lovely Washington Square and I had the occasion to lazily walk and discover the Village, like an alternative bookshop where I bought a great NYC map and vintage postcards and an Italian ice-cream shop where I exchanged with the Sicilian owner - Salvatore. I also walked a bit through Brooklyn with Michael, had Turkish Efes Pilsen beer in a Turkish restaurant - another nice colourful side of New York - there's life beyond Manhattan Many nice bars, cafés and restaurants in that neighbourhood, around 7th and Flatbush avenue.

Every time I go to NYC I find new interesting things, it's an amazing city, but it took me time to discover its charm, or rather things I like about it.

MONTREAL NOW

I started my tango classes, last week, and I absolutely love it, it advances slowly, but it is a very difficult dance, especially for an independent person like me, not used to be lead I also went on a long difficult hike in the Adirondacks three weeks ago and got a big toe infection afterwards so I couldn't go again this week-end.

Last night I've been to a 14 juillet Fête de la Bastille celebration, hosted by Francis and Evelyne, a very nice couple that does it every year.

And I still have a hard time getting back to my books, but time runs fast, already three months since I finished school and didn't write a damn line! I need a kick in the ass, big time!

JUNE 10, 2007 - GOING BACK, COMING BACK

2009-02-12T13:11:00.000-08:00

612 days ago

It feels strange to feel normal in two such different places. Feeling like coming back in both. Bucharest/Romania vs. Montréal/Québec/Canada.Two homes, two ways of being Antoaneta, with different accents

Barcelona was dreamlike. I stayed away from the museums: Picasso, Miro, National Museum of Art of Catalunya, we walked the streets like crazy and admired the amazing architecture, enjoyed the food and the light spirit of the people. We did visit Gaudi's works of art: Casa Mila (La Pedrera), Casa Batllo, Sagrada Familia, Park Guell and the church in Colonia Guell (we had to go out of town for this one, but it was really worth the trip, countryside village, quiet and charming, pine trees and red brick houses). Some places were closed (Palau Guell), some left for next time (Casa Vicens, Casa Calvet, Theresian College, etc.).

My favourites were Casa Batllo, with its dragon scales on the roof, winding walls, bright white attic and mosaic façade, the Guell church, with its reclining columns, rough stones, spiderweblike stainedglass windows and last but not least Palau de la Musica Catalana, by architect Luis Domenech y Montaner, a concert hall looking like a bright garden, full of ceramic flowers and mosaics, with stained glass windows on both sides and the ceiling and lively muses coming out of the wall.

Art Nouveau style is everywhere, they call it Modernismo, there were many architects like Antoni Gaudi, but no one equalled his genius of putting together fairytale shapes and practical solutions. Barcelona itself appeared to me like a Northern Mediterranean city, harmonious and well organized, less stressed and stressful than beautiful Rome or enchanting Naples. People seemed elegant and discreet, no loud talking in the streets, except Italian tourists. Many trees, large boulevards, plenty of restaurants and coffee shops, lively Monday as Sunday, comfortably chic.

We (me and Mama) stayed in a clean pleasant hostal, right above a dreamlike pastry, coffeeshop and restaurant: Mauri, set there since 1929! Very classy, with a painted ceiling and Art Nouveau mirror frames, every morning as we were opening the windows the smell would drag as out like magic. I loved the Barri Gotic too, although I saw Middle Age towns also in Italy, by all means the 1900 part of the city caught all my attention! Also the Boqueria market where I heard a codfish and a sausage merchant complaining about the abundant flocks of tourists. Very proud people, the Catalans, very special, I wish I had more time to meet more of them.

I met a few long time friends, from my Carnival Cruises time: Olga "la manchega" who came on purpose from Madrid, Albert the jazz pianist from Valencia who lives now in Barcelona (and his mate RJ, a percussionist from NY, who was visiting), Agata the doctor to whom I showed around a bit in the Caribbean. Also saw many handsome men! One of them was Argentinian though, he was selling pizza in the charming seaside town of Sitges. One more reason to look forward to my trip to Uruguay.

Food was delicious, a lot of fish and seafood, wines were remarkably good and not expensive. I would go back there anytime and would stay indefinitely.

Romania Many things changed, many did not. I found it expensive, especially compared to the revenue. I spent as much time as possible with my sister, Sofia and our mother, saw my half-brother Radu, who's more handsome every day and saw a few friends. I didn't really go out dancing or anything, only once. Just a few drinks out. I liked a lot a terrace under a bridge in the park next to our house, under the green trees canopy, watching rabbits, geese, ducks and ducklings at play on the small island in the lake. Bucharest looks like patchwork, superb houses and mansions next to half ruined ones or defigured by advertising panels. Terrible traffic and roads. Contradictory as always. I saw Lucia di Lamermoor at the Opera and I found it very good, also in terms of direction, and a Romanian film by a young director who died stupidly last year: "California dreamin', endless". It will still take time to get civilized, but we are on the way I also feel rather annoyed and confused because of family problems, common properties to split. I wish we could do it the smooth way.

I will most probably go back once I will finish my master and get my citizenship, sometime by the end of 2008, beginning of 2009. A gypsy with a tent, that's who I am. But I do have a house in Romania, and I intend to make good use of it

ABOUT MUSIC, DANCE, GIFTS AND PASSION - MAY 14, 2007

2009-02-12T13:09:00.000-08:00

639 days ago

On Saturday I went to a concert given by Uruguyan veteran folk singer and guitar player - Daniel Viglietti. Born in 1939, he's now 68, almost. He spent some time in prison under the military dictatureship. He touches the guitar divinely and sings about rivers (the concert was for charity, dedicated to the floods that hit Uruguay recently), workers, exile, Latin-America.

His own songs and other great composers': Chilean Violeta Parra, Uruguyan Anibal Sampayo (who died one day before the concert), Argentinian Atahualpa Yupanqui (this great folk singer was married to an Antonieta "Nenette" who also wrote songs under the name Pablo del Cerro) or poets: Mario Benedetti, Cesar Vallejo. Very emotional, a lot of people in the small college concert hall knew the lyrics, he told stories in between songs about the subject or the composers, or how he came to sing them. Most of the audience were Uruguayans, including the family that invited me. After the show, during the wine of honour, they introduced me to the maestro who started telling me names of famous Romanians: composer George Enescu, writer Eugen Ionescu, actress Elvira Popescu What a funny character. Very smart, very sensitive and very modest.

My hosts: Jorge washes windows in my office building and his ex-sister-in-law, Amalia, is a cleaner. His wife is Argentinian, they have three sons and have spent about 30 years in Canada. Jorge has two brothers, two sisters and a very active mother - Perla. They kind of adopted me, invited me to the concert, then took me to Club Social Argentino de Montréal, where I had an empanada and a maizena (a kind of double biscuit filled with dulce de leche). Perla and Jorge also told me they could put me with Perla's sister during my stay in Montevideo, because she lives alone.

I am amazed about how things turn since I've decided to go to that part of the planet - el cono Sur. These people are simple and warm, not highly educated, but sensitive and knowledgeable nevertheless. Very generous and with a high sense of hospitality. Quite amazing! They match the positive cliché about Latin-Americans and fill my heart with joy and trust. Trust in the humanity, that I was about to lose here in the North.

On another level, I just saw a documentary about the Ballets Russes. George Balanchine amongst others and some amazing Russian and not only dancers. Nini Theilade (born in Indonesia) is 89 and still teaches. She said young people are technically good (trying to make as many pirouettes as possible) but are hard to convince to express emotions. They are not warm - that's what she actually said. Maybe because she lives and teaches in Denmark? Frederic Franklin is 90 years old and still plays character roles. Quite interesting was also the story of Maria Tallchief (original name Tall Chief, as she was half Osage - Native American). She was one of the 5 native dancers from Oklahoma who danced with Ballets Russes. Also Raven's story was impressive, the African-American mulato dancer who had only a 6 years history with Ballets Russes because of racism problems, especially in the South of US. She then became a soloist with Dutch National Ballet and returned to the US in 1974. She plays now character roles at the NY Opera.
Most interesting also is Miguel Terekhov, born in...Uruguay, who joined the company when he was 14.

Of course there were many Russians... Most of these dancers live now in the USA. What impressed me is their liveliness and amazing physical shape. It's all about passion, and expressing yourself through your body. What a miracle tool! And so underused.

Briefly, I was very touched both by the Saturday concert and this Monday night doc film. I am deeply convinced Art is what makes us transcend this mortal bodies.

MAY 9 - WHY AM I HERE ON EUROPE'S DAY?

2009-02-12T13:08:00.000-08:00

644 days ago

Just a thought, I saw there was a big parade in Bucharest and some fun army brass bands from 6 European countries, playing in a park.

I'm tired, of everything. I can't wait to go home, see mamma, my sister and my brother. My best friend Liza and other good, longtime comrades. 10 days to go. On the other hand I'm not very keen about pending my summer holiday in Bucharest. A big polluted city. At the same time I know that spending time in the house I grew up in is like touching the ground with my feet after being somehow suspended.

Two months ago I decided I wanted to go home see the people I love most. Then to surprise my mum going there around her bday and taking her on a short holiday to Barcelona, just the two of us, as we've never been there but always wanted to go. Moneywise is not wise, but I felt an urge to do it. Too bad my sister cannot come. Judges cannot decide about their vacation time

After I made up my mind and made all the arrangements, she decided to accept her fiancé's proposal and get married next year. I hope to be able to cross the ocean again. After spending three months all the way down South and coming back having to look for a job.

So...mum finally found out I'm going home, she only knew about Barcelona, not about her very special escort. I'm very glad that a great Spanish friend, Olga, will come from Southern Cadiz to see me for the week-end of May 26 - 27.

Then...a long summer in Montréal. A lot of reading and writing too. My average so far is A (9.5 out of 10) - which is rather encouraging.

I had two fun days Monday and Tuesday, a very dear friend, Saj (Sajani, Ottawa born Hindu), who lives and studies now in Cambridge, visited me with her boyfriend and stayed for two nights. We had a nice Thai dinner, smoked shisha and drank tea Monday; yesterday there was the pre-festival event of Romani Yag, the gypsy festival which will take place in October. Ljuba, the organizer, did a great job, but I wish she involved me more. We'll see about the future.

Saj and Andreas enjoyed what they could of the evening, as they came late, it was really full. They left this morning and coming home in the evening I found this gorgeous flowery plant, with velvety huge leaves and dark fuchsia flowers. We had great breakfasts

APRIL 21 - SPRING IS HERE, FINALLY, BUT STILL...

2009-02-12T13:07:00.002-08:00

662 days ago

What am I actually missing?

I had brunch this morning with my 6 colleagues from the "Identity & alterity" class and our incredible professor, Luce des Aulniers (I presume her first name means "light", like Lucie, "luce" is actually light in Italian. Last name is "alder" = aulne in French, arin in Romanian). A beautiful name for a bright, sensitive, adventurous and irreverent anthropologist. She works a lot on disease and death. I'm glad I wil study "Anthropological Approaches to Communication" with her in September.

A potlatch tonight at Valérie's place with some of my "United Nations" gang friends.

Argentinian movie "El Aura" tomorrow with a few Spanish speakers.

There is an anxiety lying deep down inside, a fear of something unknown, a certain sadness beneath all masks and smiles. I'm tired of fighting with myself. I'm giving up thinking about tomorrow. Only today exists. And then again I have to think about tomorrow and its uncertainty, because today is only a transition period again, since 2001. All life is a transition, this is what I fail to understand and accept.

URUGUAYAYAYAYAYAY, HERE I COME!

2009-02-12T13:07:00.001-08:00

671 days ago

In about 9 months (January 2008), but still...who's the lucky girl who got a scholarship? A tiny one, but still enough, apparently

Andale, Speedy Gonzales, here we go again, three months and a half in Latin America (the best of the Americas

I want to take tango lessons before landing in Montevideo. And there's still a lot of work to do before that. But now I'm sure to go!

Mi Buenos Aires querido...

EASTER SPIRIT

2009-02-12T13:06:00.002-08:00

676 days ago

May the spirit of light and peace of this holly days fill everyone"s soul and home. May the flame of Love and resurrection burn eternally

MARCH 22, 2007 - AMERICA, AMERICAS

2009-02-12T13:06:00.001-08:00

692 days ago

I found a fantastic book by François Laplantine (French anthropologist, based in Lyon) - "Transatlantic" and I realized that my dream of America never involved its Northern nor Central part, but the South, that to me was mythical and distant, almost a parallel world, filled with mystery, thrill, magic. Although I decided to immigrate to Canada, its beautiful large spaces, deep green forests and immense lakes never attracted me like the lush tropical beauty of Amazonia, the glacial and windy Patagonia, the samba wild rythms or the nostalgy and sensuality of the tango.

I guess it all started with Jules Verne and its travel novels. The fascination for Latin America and India. It went on with the Latin American writers: Garcia Marquez, Borges, Llosa, Alejo Carpentier, Reinaldo Arenas, Bioy Casares, Isabel Allende, Jorge Amado.

My American dream never involved a better life in a secure industrialized country, but colourful, often poor neighbourhoods, strange animals, huge flowers, lively music and magical reality, like the literature that charmed me. Something beyond imagination and sometimes unbearable.

My America is the other America, the one I have inside me, the dark side to explore, where contrasts and excess are the only characteristic, the rest is open to all possibilities.

Maybe I"ll get there next year, there's such a narrow bridge between a Yes and a No. A few thousand dollars.

March 18 - Another week it's ending/starting

2009-02-12T13:05:00.000-08:00

696 days ago

Work/school, school/work, homework, galette au chêvre, poires et miel, drawings of ANNIE POOTOOGOOK, BYRON CHIEF-MOON: GREY HORSE RIDER - dancing, grocery shopping, cleaning, hand-washing, Andersen in Italy (awaking nostalgy of Venice, Florence, Rome and Naples, oh, Napoli and Campania - terra dell'amore!), long winter night walk, Manouche Swing - Istvan playing the violin, Marian Nasturica on accordeon, Juliana's second birthday celebration, bus-metro-bus, home at 2am on Saturday, gym, glimpse and St. Patrick's parade, girls's superb lunch at Patrizia's, homework again, duck leg in the oven = week-end since March 16.

Finished preparation of funtastic Mum's 56th birthday celebration, all booked (plane and hostel).

Reading about the murga, will absolutely have to interview Guillermo Lamolle too. If I ever get the scholarship.

Depressed Saturday night - cried in the dark, too tired to resist. Thoughts and dreams. Hopes and fears.

PS Festivalisimo - 25 Watts, La Sombra del Caminante, Morirse en domingo - worth the time. Punta del Diablo - a must in Uruguay - most unbelievable fishermen village.

One more week.

MARCH 6th, 07 - SO LITTLE, SO MUCH

2009-02-12T13:04:00.002-08:00

708 days ago

Have been happening. Just the usual hectic schedule, caught between school, work and life.

Cooked dinner for my Italian speaking friends the other Saturday, went salsa dancing this past one. Saw a couple of great movies:

"The Life of Others" - Das Leben der Anderen, about a State Security (STASI - Eastern Germany) agent who in time becomes attached to the artist couple he's supposed to observe. I was wondering, what would I have done, if I was to choose?

"The Dignity of the Nobodies", about the amazing ways simple people found in Argentina to fight against poverty and despair. By all means: founding people's eateries; exchanging medication they had stored home at counters improvised in the streets; singing the national anthem so loud when their property is about to be sold, that the judge is forced to cancel the auction. Very impressive.

I also worked on my small project for the Identity/Alterity - Field research class, interviewing Marcela (from Buenos Aires, a very good friend) about the ways tango mixes with the Argentinian identity, especially here in Montréal. It happened that there's an interesting play showing at the same time: "Mundo Tango/L'Amérique au corps", that plays with texts by Jorge Luis Borges, dancing and videos, all orchestrated by Romanian director Cristina Iovita. I went to see it with a few friends, including Mateusz, a Polish Canadian who dances tango and is as crazy about Italy as I am. He's such a sweetheart too.

So I got all surrounded by tango, its magic, longing, lust and fatality. Plus, I just met an university professor from Argentina, who's also a tango dancer, and is still nostalgic about that crazy country, 15 years after. I can't wait to go there next year. Hopefully. Just need the damn scholarship.

By pure accident I tripped over the blog of an Uruguyan young woman who teaches and studies communication...has Romanian ancestors and is learning Romanian. Now we are corresponding and she's great. I would be so freaking disappointed if I won't make it there!

FEBRUARY 18, 2007 - ADMIRABLE SNOW

2009-02-12T13:04:00.001-08:00

725 days ago

It looks like angels had a big pillow fight.

FEBRUARY 15, 2007 - HIGH HOPES FIGHTING WITH THE BLIZZARD

2009-02-12T13:03:00.001-08:00

727 days ago

Hehe, there are iceflowers on the windows and wind's claws are scratching people's faces and surfaces outside, blowing snow all over the place, that goes up, swirls and twists like a whitish thin smoke. Tombe la neige, impassible manège...I'm dreaming of Latin America and the Carnival that will embrace me and inflame me next year, I'm dreaming of a purification through fire and excess instead of snow and sobriety. Through the magic of the Word. The murga uruguaya.

I'm preparing my admission file for the scholarship and I started putting my ideas in order too. What will I be looking for, what's murga for me, because it started taking shape already in my mind. A mirror, a mock, a twisted or a naked truth? One side of my research will be to see how does my imagination match reality.

I'm reading only for school now and I suddenly became super-organized (on paper ), like I write down all my assignments, things to do, friends to see...a real agenda. Only when I get home I'm the same old Anto, fooling around, hanging out and delaying the time to get to work, until I'm running out of it again and stay up till late.

Reading a lot about Argentina lately, its miracle and sudden decay, illusion and realism, the unbelievable caceroladas, that would be soooo funny if they weren't based on very sad facts. I will do an exercise of field research on identity based on tango and the feeling of being Argentinian, involving my good friend Marcela. We're going to see a film by great director Fernando Solanas tomorrow - La dignidad de los nadies.

I wonder how much we have in common with Argentina and Uruguay, us, Romanians. We also entertained dreams of being a great nation, part of European elites, before 1947, when Communism started destroying methodically and with great success our middle class. Which is slowly coming up again, gathering itself from the ashes. Although little was left and the new riches and the Parliament circus don't say much about the golden times before World War II. Just like Romanians do, Argentinians and Uruguyans are learning to live again, after they learned survival the hard way. So I guess I will feel pretty much like home downthere. Maybe too much

FEBRUARY 5, 2007 - STUCK TO THE COMPUTER

2009-02-12T13:02:00.000-08:00

737 days ago

Whatta life! Coming from work at almost 8pm, and sitting back down in front of a slightly different screen, and it's almost midnight.

I made quite a few mistakes lately at work, my boss got upset, then he got over it, and today I did it again, and still...he took me home when we both left around 7:30. I guess he's pleased anyway when I stay late and appreciates my dedication. Maybe he got impressed with the six bricklike books I carried to work to make photocopies for school. Truth is I really admire his culture and professional knowledge and skills. He might have thought that it is late, and I'm still there and tomorrow I have school and after all I'm not having so much fun!

Which I am, anyway. I still went to some kind of Brazilian music concert (although its Brazilianity is rather a false pretense) on Saturday, then to a friend's birthday. I'm a bit fed up though with our big loud parties, half of the people are always the same. I miss going out in the open, truth is cold is biting hard nowadays.

I really like what I do at school and for school, but dammit! it's hard to put up with everything. With the help of God and a bunch of saints..., like my dear Portuguese born Anthony of Padua.

JANUARY 28, 07 - IGNORANCE

2009-02-12T13:01:00.000-08:00

745 days ago

"You're taking the metro to join the woman of your life and, at the stop preceding yours, a young unknown woman who's standing next to you feels bad all of a sudden, loses conscience and collapses. You haven't even notice her the moment before (because, after all, you have a date with the woman of your life and nothing else interests you!) but now you have to get her up, keep her a few seconds in your arms, waiting for her eyes to open. You put her on the seat that just became available and you leave her unpatiently to run to the woman of your life. The very same instant the young woman that, the moment before, you were holding in your arms, is forgotten (...)

A few years later, a young woman comes up to you saying "Is that you? I've been looking for you for years!" and she wraps her arms around you. She's the young woman who fell in your arms the day you went to join the woman of your life, who became since then your wife and mother of your child. But the young girl you happened to meet on the street decided, since long ago, to fall in love with her savior and your fortuitous encounter is to her a sign of the destiny. She will call you five times a day, she will write you letters, etc, etc" (Milan Kundera - "L'Immortalité").

I'm in the middle of something similar, even if not at the same extent. Only someone I happened to meet in 2003 and I didn't remember, showed up out of the blue in Montréal, we should meet shortly. You can never predict what lies in each moment of your life in terms of future consequences, how past or present will influence your future.

JANUARY 23 - FETTUCINE ZUCCA E AMARETTI

2009-02-12T12:56:00.000-08:00

749 days ago

I should publish every recipe I cook. Actually I don't even know why am I bothering with my master in communication. I should take cooking classes and stay in the kitchen.

Chicken soup is good, but try to use bones for it (wings, necks, etc.). I always make it Romanian style, with carrots, parsnip, onion, celery root and fresh parsley or coriander after it warms up.

The butternut squash is a great cousin of the pumpkin (zucca). And the combination of its small boiled cubes with crushed amaretti biscuits, butter, a bit of nutmeg and parmesan on top of fresh fettucine pasta is absolutely exquisite. Dixit!

The chickpeas based bite size cookies from "Nocochi" (on McKay/Sherbrooke) are also unbeatable - they succeed to melt in the mouth instantly, spreading their rosewater, pistacchio and whatever taste on all your tastebuds.

Of course the Muscadet Sévre et Maine wine just rounded up the experience. I don't know if money bring happiness, but food is a basic ingredient

JANUARY 21 - WHERE AM I STANDING AND WHAT FOR?

2009-02-12T12:54:00.002-08:00

752 days ago

On Friday I went to a party at a big house hosting 12 over-achievers under 30 - Sauvé Scholars who came to Canada from all parts of the world to exchange and experience, getting housing and all expenses (including trips in Canada and nearby US areas !) paid, for 8-9 months. Most of them study and/or work in the human rights and/or political field.

Looking at their biographies on the site I feel I did nothing with my life so far, I dropped so many times what I was doing for lack of patience. I know it's not to late, but I can't delay it anymore. I had many interesting adventurous experiences, but kept a low professional profile. And I feel I'm about to become a loser, not yet there though...

JANUARY 20 - A DAY WITH MISIA

2009-02-12T12:54:00.001-08:00

752 days ago

I listened to all the Misiaalbums I have (5), I browsed her site...she is such an interesting character, with a fascinating lifestory, a tremendous intelligence, culture and subtility and most of all a light yet strong voice. Just like the fado she sings, with its enthusiastic sadness.

She'll be here in about 6 weeks time, I can't wait.

Have been going on with "Istanbul" by Orhan Pamuk too - I like its nostalgia (hüzün in Turkish). My favourite cities (Rome, Lisbon, Naples, Istanbul and...Bucharest) have all seen better days, but that's what I like most, their fading charms. The slices of history you can discern when you look around, the ruins spreaded all over. Those cities talk.

My second grade is an A-, so an average of A so far...hard to keep up with, but I'll do my best. I like my classes, especially the identity/alterity - field research one. Time goes so fast anyway.

I also feel lonely in this mid-winter time. Gray days, cold sun, sharp winds biting into my flesh, many questions about what am I doing here and what's next after the master? At times I doubt about everything, especially myself and my ability to make decisions

JANUARY 10, 2007 - BACK TO SCHOOL AND CULTURAL AGENDA

2009-02-12T12:49:00.000-08:00

764 days ago

Hard work, especially around my agenda, trying to avoid any unnecessary outings, that I'm a specialist in:

I can't miss a flamenco show on Friday given by a Québecer dancer who spent 6 years in Spain and I happened to meet a couple of times. Also planning to see a couple of plays: Forêts by Wajdi Mouawad and La nuit arabe, directed by a Romanian, a fado/bolero concert by Portuguese singer Misia and an unavoidable contemporary dance show by the Béjart Company, one of the best in the world. All this up to mid-April.

Some attractive movies showing in town: Children of Men by Alfonso Cuaron, The Perfume after Patrick Sueskind and Notes on a Scandal with Dame Judi Dench and Cate Blanchett.

During the holidays I've read a good dramatic book about Afghanistan - The Swallows of Kabul, the "The White Castle" by Orhan Pamuk (winner of the Nobel Prize! - good story but his writing was not that good somehow).

Right now I picked Istanbul - memories and the city and I'm about to finish Le regard de l'anatomiste. Dissections et invention du corps en Occident - a brilliant study by an Uruguayan professor who holds a Ph.D. from Paris on the history of anatomy and dissection. I was interested on the subject ever since I studied biology and anatomy in school, then reading the biography of Michelangelo and finding out he performed dissections himself. The University of Padova (Padua), that I visited in 1999, second oldest in the world after Bologna, has an anatomy amphitheater Teatro Anatomico. Fascinating! So I'm very glad this book exists and I had access to it!

My new identity/alterity - research on the field class that started yesterday requires a lot of work but looks like very useful for my later research in Uruguay. Also got my first grade - an A+!, from a professor that's far too kind for me to be sure that I deserved that. Tonight I have my second first class of the semester. Run, Lola, run!

1 JANVIER - AT LEAST I DON'T HAVE A HANGOVER

2009-02-12T12:40:00.002-08:00

772 days ago

After such a great Christmas week the New Year party felt like a flop. Much ado about nothing, much money for not much fun. Suburban entertainment - I should have known. I know, I know, it's just a night, but I'm angry against myself for having had expectations. Especially that I had alternatives. It felt like a province city hotel in Romania. With a band of 9 performing oldies but goldies, a big mamma singer (a good one!) and an average of 50 years old around! Party amenities at midnight, blah-blah. Thanks God it is over, anyway!

My sister threw a party at our place in Romania, that apparently went very well. I wish I was there, to celebrate our entry in the European Union.

The day after tomorrow I'm working and next week school starts again, so I'll try to read today and tomorrow, go out for a walk and that would have been my winter holiday.

DECEMBER 30, 2006 - NO FINAL COUNTDOWN OR NEW YEAR'S RESOLUTIONS

2009-02-12T12:40:00.001-08:00

774 days ago

Just resting today after a long week of Christmas celebrations with friends around full tables and red wine to cheer us up.

Dec. 23 - with 4 Romanian friends, discussing postmodernism, poetry, Romania's entry in the European Union on January 1st, etc. up to 3am

Dec. 24 - Church in the morning and 9 different religions and nationalities people gathered around Jocelyn's Québec dinner table, I brought the Christmas tree and took it back home all adorned, we exchanged gifts and had fun until they started playin' cards and I passed out.

Dec. 25 - I entertained 3 friends with a Romanian lunch - turkey and sour cabbage, more gifts under my Christmas tree. Dinner at my French friend Valérie, on my way I picked José, our Peruvian friend, who was driving home
and had no plans. Most refined dinner: foie gras, oysters, Alaska crab salad, duck à l'orange and the great bûche champenoise d'Olivier.

Dec. 26 - just hanging around my place, Lucia and Richard came over for some mold wine and brought me a big piece of torrone made by her mom. Cedric came from Ottawa without calling me previously, so I hardly had the time to go fetch him at the station. What a nice crazy boy he is, we're having a great time together, we cooked and then stayed up until 3am, I didn't see him since last year, he left Ottawa for Vancouver now.

Dec. 27 - I went to the Plateau with Cedric who decided suddenly to go back to Ottawa the same evening to join his on/off girlfriend, we went to smoke a shisha and have a tea at Orienthé, then I took him to a chocolate and a tea shop, so he can fetch something for her. He's trying to do everything at once, which happens to me all the time too, but I'm trying to get better.

Afterwards I met my friend Marcela to give her the Xmas gift and I headed to Laurence's place for another Christmas and gift exchange dinner. I met some new interesting people, like Nigel from Trinidad and Jaby who works for the United Nations in Brazaville, Congo. I should probably apply for this kind of job when I'll be done with my master, in two years time.

Dec. 28 I went to Ottawa to see my beloved (and my mother's highschool)friend, Gabi, and her family: Cedric again and his sister Andrea, who's 20 and followed her boyfriend to Belo Horizonte in Brazil, where she will start her environmental studies this winter. I had a long walk with Gabi, then prepared dinner home, turkey and mashed potatoes again, a light salad, Linzer tart, chocolates and a great Croatian red wine. Her husband went alone to the movies, we gathered around the tree to open our gifts, Cedric brought the didgeridoo and Andrea her drum and improvised - a beautiful family warmth, I always feel like home when I go there. In the summer it was different, the kids were not there, the house felt emptier and I'm sorry for Gabi, who's so full of resources and positive energy.

Dec. 29 Gabi had to go to Toronto to her mother and sister (who lives in London, UK) and Cedric to his father, so I decided to accept another friend's invitation and go to her place. I met Lynne at flamenco shows and we are friends almost since I came here. We had lunch with Andrea, Cedric and his father then headed home, Lynne's hubbie is also very special, interested in all kinds of music, I brought them a few CD's to listen too. I was granted a full body massage by Lynne, with aromatic oils, she specialized in aromatherapy and reflexology and is a professional massage therapist. Their friend Paul joined us too, he sings a bit of flamenco, Brian joined him on guitar. We had a light, yummy dinner that I crowned with a tiramisù and we all watched a Brazilian Cinderella story about two musician brothers who made it from the favela to the top.

Today I came home around lunch and I might go see "Babel" with my Haitian neighbour and friend - Patricia. Tomorrow I want to go for a walk on Mont Royal, in the evening I will party with 9 more people at Palace, a reception hall in Laval, a northern suburb. Not my type of entertainment, but for once I could try it.

DECEMBER 3rd, 2006 - A QUOTE, AS SNOW POURS OVER

2009-02-12T12:39:00.000-08:00

801 days ago

“We have to live this infinity within our limits. Accept that we are embodied and love this embodyment! It’s like knowing that the space that fills the jug it’s the very same space that fills the universe, but to live this space you don’t have to break the jug, to despise the jug, or feel guilty for being a jug… As we are jugs, let’s accept ourselves this way, and in this “jugness” let’s receive the Infinity that inhabits us. But this is doubtlessly the most difficult thing to live, because all this is the mistery of incarnation! ” (French theologist Jean-Yves Leloup).

28 NOVEMBER 2006 - SOMETHING LIKE HAPPINESS 806 days ago

2009-02-12T12:37:00.000-08:00

Why people call themselves unhappy or happy? What's this elusive happiness? If only we could understand it's a fake, hollow word, it doesn't exist.

We think we would be happy if...and then a long list follows, including material, sentimental and spiritual conditions. And then because one of them is not fulfilled, we are not...HAPPY. We think we have all the rights to feel miserable because of lack of this and that. Because we take happiness as a long lasting state, but life itself is constantly changing, so there's no state of permanence.

I wonder who invented this concept - the unattainable perfection. Instead of striving for serenity, peace of mind, contentment, we strive fot the impossible and make ourselves - UNHAPPY, because we think there is more in the bag for us, but we have to have it all, at the same time, until the end of our life. (HAPPY END? )

I don't think we are here to be happy, we are here to give a sense to our life, and then we will feel fulfilled.

So I'm trying to make up my mind and expel this word from my vocabulary and imagination. Fill myself up with joy for what I have: interesting studies, comfortable job, caring friends, a fantastic family (my younger siblings are growing into beautiful persons as adults - smart, honest, kind, active).

I'm very excited about my master thesis subject: Murga uruguaya, the more I read about this social form of art, the more I want to learn. So I'm planning to go to Montevideo/Uruguay and spend a longer time there in 2008. My professor - Carmen Rico de Sotelo is an extraordinary gifted woman - with warmth, intelligence and an open-mind.

Through my studies I found descriptions of modern capitalist societies, whose vision is constant progress, oriented exclusively towards future (past is a curiosity for museums) confronted with the fundamentalist, traditional organizations, that cling to the past. They all ignore present, except groups of people, here and there, that live too much in the present, with hedonistic tendencies - life is for pleasure. It's hard to find a balance between the different dimensions of time.

I'm enjoying a light present, sustained by a rich, eventful past, looking towards a bright future. I guess I forget sometimes and get depressed, but this is part of the game too.

N.B. Something like happiness - Title of a Czech movie I saw last year - Stesti(by Bohdan Slama).

NOVEMBER 19, 06 - I DON'T FEEL ROMANIAN...

2009-02-12T12:36:00.000-08:00

815 days ago

...but fortunately, or unfortunately, I am (paraphrase Giorgio Gaber - I don't feel Italian).

I am certainly not Canadian.

OCTOBER 28 - FESTIVAL DU NOUVEAU CINÉMA - CONCLUSION

2009-02-12T12:34:00.000-08:00

837 days ago

For one time all six movies I picked were great, although very different:

1. TAXIDERMIA Hungary - Baroque, surrealistic, grotesque, aesthetics of ugliness, excess and beautiful visuals. Reminded me of Fellini, Greenaway, Dali, Francis Bacon. The characters are both touching and disgusting - a dimension difficult to achieve.

2. THE ISLAND/OSTROV Russia - a perfectly Orthodox movie, everything is there: redemption, humbleness, humour, simplicity, monks filled with vanity and pride. A touch of Tarkovski and Dostoyevski. Pavel Lunghin - great director. Last but not least - amazing images.

3. 12:08 EAST OF BUCHAREST/ A FOST SAU N-A FOST ROMANIA! Well, they
started making good movies back home and I'm damn proud about it! It's a kind of sad comedy or happy melodrama, lives of simple people, somewhere in a small insignificant town, trying to figure out if in 1989 they had a Revolution too or not, two days before Christmas - talk-show at the local TV. Caméra d'Or Cannes 2006

4. AUGUST DAYS/ DIES DE AGOST Catalunya/Spain - a slow road movie about the trip of two non-identical twins remembering the Spanish Civil War in a hot august, wandering on the plains and hills of Catalunya - great music and landscapes. I was in the right contemplative mood (it reminded me of my own Caribbean solo wanderings) so I enjoyed it.

5. THE ANGRY MONK Switzerland - TIBET "A roadmovie and a timetravel in the footsteps of the rebellious monk Gendun Choephel. Ultimately, this road movie also tells the story of a man who left home to search for something that could have liberated traditional Tibet from its rigidity. An outsider who was always open to new things, he eventually became a stranger in his homeland and homeless in foreign lands — a wanderer between worlds."

I talked to the director for a few moments afterwards. Conclusion: Tibet was not a country of peace and love before the Chinese came. It needed openness, only it came in a very brutal way, like a rape. The paradox is: now that more people have access to education and information; and they are confronted with the conquerors, they are more aware about the place of Tibet in the world and their own identity. Not all is lost, against all odds, all destroyed monasteries, statues, manuscripts. Their spirit is still strong.

6. GRBAVICA Bosnia Herzegovina - another amazing story, about nowadays life in Sarajevo. Great actress - Mirjana Karanovic I think.
People trying to lead a normal life, against the deep wounds in their souls, against memories or the lack of them. What happened there won't be mended for a few generations. How does it feel to have a child that came from rape by murderous soldiers, who might have killed your family? How can you tell a a Bosnian teen-ager that she's actually half Serbian and you don't know who's the father? God bless and help those people to recover, Muslims or Christians

OCTOBER 12 - ITALIA, WITH A GRAIN OF SALT

2009-02-12T12:31:00.000-08:00

853 days ago

I don't think I ever wrote on this blog about how crazy I am about Italy, this seductive, absolutely charming country, where I left some feathers, how they say there.

I just got some kind of orange tote-bag today in a bookshop, that reads, in Italian: "Amore: You cannot wait for inspiration. You have to go after it with a club." Yahoo! I have to go buy a club NOW!

My special, long-time-no-see Italian friend won't be coming finally to Montréal next month, he just got a temporary good job, until December More than three years now and who knows how much longer...

What else makes me write about Italy now? Check this.

A great friend of mine, an Italian journalist - Renato Farina, has been suspended for 12 months for cooperating (and being paid) by the Italian secret military services - SISMI. Apparently it was a big media scandal there, that I found out about only today

I was shocked, I looked up the net for all articles and evidences and I realized that whatever happens - I stick to him. I've been received like a relative by his family, slept in their house, ate at their table, I cannot blame Renato for anything he does. I'm sure he acted in good faith (he's also ultra-catholic). Maybe he's too innocent and idealistic and thought he was engaging in an anti-terrorist crusade.

I'm not in a position to judge anyone, especially someone who treated me extremely kindly, with absolutely no interest. It's easy to stick to our friends when everything goes swell, and to quit the sinking ship. I signed the petition in his favor and I sent it to all mutual friends we have here.

So much about Italy today, coming up again on my life stage, for a brief moment.

OCTOBER 6, 06 - LEARNING TO SAY NO

2009-02-12T12:10:00.002-08:00

859 days ago

Is hard to do it, give up all the exciting opportunities, the outings, all the things I could do in Montréal. School here is more serious than in Romania, more demanding and I really have to put up with it, I cannot play by ear, like a Gypsy musician.

Home we're just too used to improvise all the time, in any given situation, which has a lot of positive sides, but...

So this is my main preoccupation right now, trying to change my mind set and learning to study.

On Tuesday there was the benefit night for our Gypsy festival www.romaniyag.com It came out right, there were many people, the show was good, hopefully we should get the money to go further.

I'm living tomorrow - Saturday, for the lovely area of the Eastern Townships, not far from Montréal, with my "United Nations" gang. Thanksgiving turkey dinner on Sunday!

And on the 16th I have my first "mid-term" - critical presentation of a book in front of the class for 20 minutes and five written pages. Have no clue about what and how to do it, I printed a lot of adviced from the net for it.

I'm also slightly nervous because someone from Italy I was very fond of might come in November for a few days - most probably professional reasons. He didn't get back to me yet with the details. I wonder how it will feel after more than 3 years and me going through so much: love pain, Canada immigration, my father's loss, unemployment, I probably grew inside more than I can tell.

Anyway, my master studies are becoming the center of my life now, slowly, as I also work full time. But I already started cutting on my social life. It actually feels good to be back in school, damn good!