Food (or rather water) for thought…

I don’t know if there is a more symbolic gesture of hospitality than giving someone a glass of water, on a very hot summer day , while in heavy traffic, in one of the resorts on the Black Sea coast.
And I don’t know if there is something more symbolic than throwing it in someone’s face.
The first is the dream I came back home with, after six years, after leaving Romania. I was thirsty for good news, for signs that I had been wrong leaving it, that there was so much I was missing by being away.
The second is the reality.

runaway car
The runaway car with plate number B21XDN

I was coming back from the emergency hospital where I had brought my neighbour’s nine year old daughter who had high temperature.
I stopped my car beside a PARKING SPOT in front of a pharmacy, with my blinking lights on, without obstructing anyone’s way (at least 20 cars passed by without any noticing us). I was waiting in the car for the mother to buy the medication for her child who was dosing in the back.
When the horn of a car behind me made me look in the rear mirror. The woman driving the car was making gestures with her hand for me to move away. I waved her with a smile to go by me, but she pointed that she wanted the spot where I was, so I shrugged my shoulders and smiled.

She gets out of the car, approaches and opens my door to tell me to fuck off and let her get that spot if I don’t use it. I say I obviously am using the space and that she should find another spot. Her friend comes out of the car and enters the pharmacy.

Next thing, the driver woman goes back to her car and comes back in a hurry with a paper cup in her hand and throws it in my face, with a lot of other unrepeatable words.

Before I realise what had just happened, she drives off in a hurry leaving her friend behind and me with my phone trying to keep a proof of this incident so I don’t think it’s just a bad dream.
As minutes go by – me wondering if my mind is playing tricks on me or any minute now I will wake up – I begin to realise that despite the intentions, that glass of water had cooled me down…

Cooled me down of any doubt that I had valid reasons to leave my native land; cooled me down about any fake excuses that it’s the Communism or some other abstract ideology who kept this people in the dark; cooled down any hot air balloon that would carry me back soon to return.

They say that a continuous use of certain habits in a nation leads to the creation of a gene that will be carried by future generations. I am afraid we have passed that moment when we had a chance to define ourselves, Romanians, as kind, caring and hospitable people. We have exercised for too long this anger and frustration towards the other, the sister or brother beside us – as if the car in front of us is responsible for all our troubles.
There are so many things I treasure about my Transylvanian upbringing but I am certainly ashamed of the gene that is being formed in our DNA as we speak – throw the glass of water in the face of you neighbor if you meet him/her on the road rather than offer it to him/her to quench their thirst. That way, your ‘friends’ will think you are ‘cool.’
As the shock cooled down, I realise I have to thank that woman for reminding me that, even carrying this gene, I still have a choice to let it express itself in my behaviour or redefine myself as a New Romanian: aware of my past and my faults but strong enough to recognize them and realize that my neighbour and I have more in common than differences. That a glass of water is for calming someone’s thirst not for expressing my frustrations. That there is not such thing as “my spot,” but our world that we should learn to share.

Waking up into the real dream

I lay in the grass with the pain of inner questions running through my mind, and my heart. And I wonder whether when we lie down for the imaginary  sleep, do we get to revisit the place once held our shape?
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Do we get to smell life the way we did that day? And feel the wind through the blades of grass, and stare into the eyes of a faithful friend who cannot speak, but it’s there for us?
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
Is this what everyone else calls a ghost: us, reliving some of the moments  – when we felt so vulnerable and fragile, that we could have easily be melted by the rain – before sinking into oblivion, before waking up into another dream?
OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA
What a terrible misunderstanding…

I love Paris in the spring time…

I love Paris in the fall

Paris is in the details
Paris is in the details

I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles

There is never the same feeling when rediscovering a new angle
There is never the same feeling when rediscovering a new angle

I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles

Taking a rest in Luxembourg Gardens under the watchful eyes of time
Taking a rest in Luxembourg Gardens under the watchful eyes of time

I love Paris every moment

Time stands still on the Ile de la Cite
Time stands still on the Ile de la Cite

Every moment of the year

Surrender the charm of Le Petit Palais
Surrender the charm of Le Petit Palais

I love Paris, why oh, why do I love Paris?
Because my love is near.

Contemplating on the lawn of Musée des Arts Décoratifs
Contemplating on the lawn of Musée des Arts Décoratifs

I love Paris in the spring time
I love Paris in the fall

Haunted passages of Paris are full of stories
Haunted passages of Paris are full of stories

I love Paris in the winter when it drizzles
I love Paris in the summer when it sizzles

Some things never change and we don't want them to...
Some things never change and we don’t want them to…

I love Paris every moment
Every moment of the year
I love Paris, why oh, why do I love Paris?
Because my love is near.

Waiting for the summerNote: “I love Paris” was written by Cole Porter. 

Under pressure

Why do I feel the weight of the world on my shoulders?

Etna

It’s light.

It’s light when I clothe my soul in a different skin.

Ladybug

It’s light when I burst into blooms of colors and scent.

Flower

Why can we only love what we see, but fail to see when we love?

darkness coming

A night of weary thoughts rushes in through my pores, and it’s not the darkness I fear, but the fear itself.

Why do I feel the weight of time on my shoulders? Or more likely the lack of time that presses down ever so slowly, and ever so fast like the night pressing down on the setting sun.

Trees

It’s light and I’ve been awake in my dreams. It’s time to fall back into the sleep of reality again until I convince fear to see me.

waterfall

a travel photography blog

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 215 other followers