Fondly yours...

If I were someone else this post would be very dramatic. I would thank those who read, express my sadness at our separation, wish everyone a wonderful Christmas and a magnificent 2011.

If I were another someone else I would report on the two great news from today: the third place won by the Romanian female handball team against Denmark on their own field, and…the drunk Serbian tourist who fell on and killed the dangerous shark from Shark-El-Sheihk, Egypt.

As I am, the post is about today. I woke up early to get to town by 9, saw the doctor after waiting for two hours but at least I finished Grunberg’s “Blue Mondays”. How fitting! In the afternoon I slept, got a Christmas card from Cecilia and Loic, and took my grandmother to town.

Now I am tired. Tomorrow is the winter solstice; the sun will start blessing us more and more with its presence. It symbolizes a time of rebirth, new beginnings. I could use the opportunity to write a letter to Santa, see if he has space for a small gift for me and maybe pass the wishes for the new year to whoever is taking care of that department.

“Dear Santa,

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Fondly yours,

raluca”

One gear below that of the universe

Some chemical make up created during my run today made me think that perhaps we're too fast.

Assuming the universe or the world we know moves at a certain speed, I often catch myself unhappy when I want things to move faster.  I cannot change anything about the way things happen so expecting for my wishes to become true yesterday is bound to create frustration and unhappiness. On the other hand, whenever I slow down and try to feel the pulse of things and take days as they come, I feel better.

The thought made me think more about speed. We travel faster than in the past, we make friends by clicking a button, we don't even cook a whole meal as much as before, and in most jobs these days everyone is always busy. Maybe one day we will get dizzy and fall like flies. Or maybe not...

If it was not my run, maybe the responsible for these thoughts is the almost full moon.

The tram station

Today I wanted to take the tram to town. Not the smartest idea given the cold outside. But...I wanted to and kept to it even after half an hour of delay when my brother offered to give me a ride. Yes, I am stubborn!

While waiting I recalled a Saturday afternoon in March 2000; it was the day after I got the first acceptance for a university abroad, in Missouri. That was the day when I realized that it might actually happen, I might actually go to study abroad. Little I knew that it was going to take 3 more months to have a final answer and decision about where I was going in the end. Those 3 months I spent every day waiting for letters, e-mails, anything to make it clearer somehow what the future will be for me. It felt like the longest wait but waiting was all I could do.

The tram eventually came.

A post about post writing

This has been a useful experience for me. At the beginning it made me pay more attention to every day that was passing. Then it became a constant process in my head; I was writing paragraphs in my mind wherever and whenever I could.

Later I discovered the "stats" function that tells me the number of pageviews, the countries from where people read my posts; this played with my ego. Some posts were read more than others, some days were getting more pageviews than others, and sometimes a lot of people from countries where I don’t know anyone, were reading my posts. Generally I wondered who read my posts? And why?

I read a few posts myself and promised to read them all at some point after finishing. I have a nod in my stomach when I read them; just like everyone else, some posts I find alright, others purely descriptive, and some even boring.

Probably I will suffer from some withdrawal symptoms; in the end, I did write every single day for the past 100 days and now there are 3 more posts to go! 3!

Who needs Shakira when we have Fuego ?!

Today I could not wake up for half of the day; a very lazy day. But then Fuego happened!

It's that time of the year when the traditions that survived from the past kick in. People get ready for Christmas, clean, cook, and start singing carols. On the 24th of December we still get together with my friends and go from house to house singing carols. We don't make money anymore, we get food and drinks instead; we also forgot most of the carols and use the same two since...since we finished high school.

It's also the time for Christmas concerts. Fuego, a Romanian singer put on fire all the ladies above 60 present in the theater today. He sings beautifully, lifts your mood! However he needs a new designer and some new jokes, although had it not been for the outrageously flashy outfits and the bad jokes, I would have not had the fun I did. Maybe it's a different kind of package: good music, bad clothing and sad interludes.

And I still can't find my friend Dexter!

It's snowy and Elvis is coming home for Christmas

When children sometimes cry, they clench their fists. They clench them so strongly as if their whole world is inside and they need to protect it. When they do that, it's useless to open them; it's like invading a stormy place and bringing even more winds. Instead, hold them; they will slowly open and hold your hand.

Children also hide when they are scared. They build tents in their rooms or just hide under the covers. It feels safe inside. When hiding, they don't need anyone uncovering them or telling them to come out and see the wonderful world. Hide with them! They probably have a story to tell, something must have scared them and with someone else listening by their side they eventually build the courage to come out.

For children between 0-98 years old

The fly killer

Last night I went to bed but a buzzing fly kept me awake until very late.

I thought of Goethe who said that "As soon as you trust yourself, you will know how to live." and tried to connect it to a line from a song by Morcheeba "The day that you stop running/ Is the day that you arrive.". Then I recalled the worse day of 2010 but slowly the buzzing stopped and I fell asleep.

At 7am the dog started barking. I woke up; worse even, the fly woke up and started buzzing around. That was when I decided to go fly hunting, finish with the little bastard.

In the evening I put my plan into action. 5 victims! For those defending fly rights, rest assured it was a fast death in a warm, cosy place, my room. Dirty job finished I went on to something more pleasant: baking cookies. When the first batch did not burn I did a little pirouette on some radio tune, some Michael Jackson song.

And the day ends. Snow outside, silence inside, good night awaiting. 

Some day we will die

My dentist cannot guarantee for any of the work he does; he just can guarantee to me that one day we will all die.

Last night I thought of those emotional times in our lives when an eminent end of some sort makes us rush to those around us to tell them how we feel. One professor during my MBA asked how many people in the class had told their parents that they loved them in the past year. You would be surprised but I don't recall anyone raising their hand and I know for a fact that at least some of us loved our parents.

Another professor finished his Finance course with three messages: do in life a job you like, spend every year some time on your own, and share your feelings with those dear to you. I forgot the valuation cases but I remember this last lecture.

Tonight I was reminded of death. Someone I knew enough to like died today. Her name is Carmen and she liked my hugs.

Radu

I often wished for an older brother. Instead, I was born first, Radu is my younger brother.

From all the roles I play in the lives of people around me, being an older sister is still a mystery to me. I am not sure if I am doing a good job or any job at all.

Like it happens with other siblings too, we also got closer as we grew older and stopped fighting over who washes the dishes or which TV channel to watch. Since we both left home we've became more supportive of each other so not once I missed having Radu closer to me. 

Radu is smarter, equally lost, and between the two, he is the one who challenged my parents and rebelled against everything that was imposed on him. He loves motorcycles, adventure, girls, and questions life in ways that often are mind blowing to me.

He is my brother and he is home with me now.

My oldest friend

Razvan is my oldest friend. We even have the same initials: RNP.

I met Razvan in kindergarten when we were 5; this makes us friends for 23 years. From there we went to study together both in primary and secondary school, even at the same high school but in a different class. Since he left Arad and I left Romania we meet every year for Christmas. Razvan...it's when I think about the number of years since we know each other that I realize that we're growing older.

He's in town today so we will meet. Me, Razvan, Ioana, Marian and Nena. We are going to miss a few but in just two weeks everyone will be there, moving from house to house carol singing. It's what we do for years now and believers or not, we all love Christmas because it's the time when we are together. They are my friends from secondary school, some of the oldest friends I have and one of the reasons being home is precious.

Ah, my phone...I am off! 

The end of my trip

The train leaving Vienna tonight at 6:50pm reaches Arad at 4am.

In the past six weeks…I have missed meeting Monalisa in Paris, ran blissful after our bus in London, found the Swedish embassy in Lisbon, searched for a matching scarf in Madrid, made friends with Spike in Bremen, flirted with Berlin, slept in the Belgian country side, smoked Cuban cigars in Metz, walked in the snow in Luxembourg, had delicious falafel in Freiburg, bought a book in St Gallen, partied in Zurich, and met my mum in Vienna. 

I could write too many paragraphs like this one; it’s just cutting out a second, a feeling, a smell, a thought, a color from the past few weeks. I have stories, I have travel tips, I have ideas of furniture I want in my house, I have new music, I have...a lot. What I don’t have anymore are those two lines I get on my forehead when I frown.

And so 10 more days are left before I reach the end of these first 100 days.

Sacher Torte

This morning my mum wanted to visit museums, check out exhibitions, enjoy the rich Viennese cultural offer. We went to see the Schoenbrunn Palace, the residence of the Habsburg monarchs. I wondered again how would it have been to live during a different historical period?

Day dreaming ended as we took the metro back to town and went for a walk to Stephansplatz, the center of Vienna. Street shows, freezing wind, puffy snowflakes, and tourists colored our walk. Then it was time for a treat: Sacher chocolate cake! I knew it from my years in Bremen, liked it since then, and today I had it in the place where it's made. A tick on the list of my wishes!

The day is over and in less than 24 hours my tour will come to an end. I go back home tomorrow.

Lucky day in Vienna

I woke up lucky this morning.

At 8:30am, while on the tram to Westbahnhof they caught me without a ticket. My sleepy eyes convinced them that despite all my good intentions to get a ticket, I could not, honestly! At 9:05am I found my mum standing on the platform; she came to spend these last few days of my tour with me in Vienna.

To make it official that it was a lucky day, I found a coin on the street and immediately put it in my shoe...it's something I've learned from Charlie, and yes, most of my shoes have all sorts of little coins inside. The day passed smoothly, Christmas market after Christmas market, street after street. The final lucky touch came at 5:00pm: we got tickets Verdi's "Un Ballo in Maschera". Opera!

Lucky me can finally rest now...in Vienna. 

Lesson from Brazil

This is a dance story from Belo Horizonte.

One night we went out dancing forro, a faster kind of waltz that one dances in pairs. The girls insisted for a friend that came along to take me, the gringa, to dance. He did not find the words to say “no” but he tried hard to get out of it. He expected me to have two left feet and disturb his dancing. He took me to dance nevertheless and soon enough realized that I was not that stiff after all; by the end, he was relived and asked me to dance again later. This was when I wanted to say “no way”.

I spend the rest of the night dancing with another friend; he was having fun every time I was missing the step or turned the wrong way. He enjoyed dancing with me, I was having fun and then it hit me: never dance with people who don’t enjoy dancing with you or better…dance only with people who want to and enjoy dancing with you.

I took this lesson home.

To days!

I bought myself a gift today: a book. In the book there was a quote. I liked it. It’s from “Great Expectations” by Charles Dickens. It says:

“That was a memorable day to me, for it made great changes in me. But, it is the same with any life. Imagine one selected day struck out of it and think how different its course would have been. Pause, you who read this, and think for a long moment of the long chain of iron or gold, of thorns or flowers, that would never have bound you, but for the formation of the first link on that memorable day.”

To days!

Playing in Zurich

My friend was happy to spend the weekend with 3 girls: two Ralucas and a Claudia. All made in Arad.

When you were children have you ever rang door bells and then ran away to hide? At some point during my childhood that was a fun game to play. Last night, we rediscovered it and shamelessly annoyed my friend a few times. Worse, because as you grow older you get better at acting, we got out of it like masters. The perfect crime!

The even better crime we committed today, a wonderful facebook log off. For various reasons and without creating suspicious thoughts, we kept taking his phone. We played with the status, replied to surprised comments, and managed not to burst out laughing while doing this for the whole afternoon. It was team work, girl team work.

A toast for the weekend that brought back games and playing into our lives.

The blast of these 100 days

I did not expect it and maybe that is why it created an explosion of emotions when I saw it: the self-help book for men.

"How to Be the Bad Boy Women Love" is just one title. It made me wonder: if girls are told that being good takes them to heaven while being bad takes them anywhere, and if boys read such books, where is the world going? Are we really doing this now? Being bad to get hot men and hot women to like us?

My second thought about these books was that I never knew they existed. Are they hidden in the bookshop and sold under the counter in a paper bag to confused men searching for answers? Or? Irrelevant. What is relevant is that fact that everyone is looking for answers somewhere and finding a partner keeps busy both men and women.

I have no more answers today than yesterday but the run in the snow makes up for that...and maybe that is the answer.

Die Schweiz

While on the train from Freiburg to St Gallen I thought about responsibility.

On airplanes we are told to first put the oxygen mask on ourselves and then assist the others. Sometimes I think the world would be a happier place if we were to live by the same rule. It sounds selfish to say that you must come before anyone else and yet, what if it’s a responsibility we each have?

Think with me. Right now I cannot find but good reasons why we shouldn't above all try to be fine with ourselves and then take care of the others. When I think of the times I left this responsibility aside, when I expected someone else to look after my well being, I risked being disappointed, and often I was.

And my train just crossed from Germany to Switzerland! A new country to discover.  

Farah=Joy

No, this is not a metaphorical title, "farah" in Arabic does mean joy. But Farah also happens to be one of my dearest friends and yes, the joy meant for 10 people in one person only.

How to describe Farah? She is like my grandmother and mother because she always wants to feed me. She is also like my brother because she defends and protects me even if I am wrong. She is like a child who at night has endless stories to tell and to trick her to finish I have to pretend than I am asleep. She is an incredibly smart woman, an engineer currently doing her PhD on solar collectors. For many, she is above all an amazing dancer because if any from the group had oriental dance in the blood it was her. And yes, beautiful!

She is the friend I am visiting in Freiburg and I am writing all this as she is getting the chai latte ready in the kitchen. We'll chat, have tea, eat chips with sea water salt and pepper, maybe watch a movie and definitely laugh making fun of each other.

Drunk on latte macchiato

After I got my latte macchiato and started walking to meet Farah, I made a few toasts...

The first toast was for Romania and all Romanians because today it's our national day. On the 1st of December 1918, Transylvania joined the rest of the country forming Romania as we know it today.

The second toast was for the snow flakes that kept getting tangled in my hair thinking I could not see them play. They came down from the sky all day long covering Freiburg with a white frost.

The third toast was for all my room mates. I thought of them today: Oliver, Shrradha, Eli, Severina, Benny, Andres, Mitko, Mila, Assaf, Jonathan, Francois, Marion, Evgeny, Jeremy, Alvaro, Cristina, Corinne, Ivan, Femi, Luis and of course, Farah. From them I learned through the years that independently of where one comes from, life tends to flow in a similar way, pose the same questions.

The fourth toast was for the kind Deutsche Post van driver who gave me his printed map because my post-it-hand-made copy of the route got me lost.

Then the latte finished so I could not toast anymore. So I just walked, and walked, and walked...