When I left the office this afternoon, the air was hot and stuffy. The stairs were dark. The traffic blocked. The rain came unexpectedly, with thunder and wind, ripping branches and chasing mothers and toddlers away from the park. Little streams burst out from the roof of the buildings, down the pipes, unto the streets. A tree was waving its leaves in the middle of a small square as if trying to restore order, calming the winds and directing the cars. There was a tacit pact between everyone in the traffic not to honk anymore and let everyone move at their own pace. My blouse, shorts and shoes were full of water. Continue Reading
It's evening and I'm in the kitchen, in front of the laptop. between a plate with cheese left overs and a glass of water with a basil leaf floating in it, listening for the first time to a band called "Mazzy Star" that youtube recommended for me. I'm closing my eyes, but the light of the screen flickers through my eyelids. I'm sitting criss cross on the chair, my shoes are drying up on the window sill. The pink geranium on the table shakes when I type. So does the water in my glass. The wind blows shyly through the thin white curtain, stained with polen. The air is cool but not cool enough to close the window. It also lets the cheese smell out. Continue Reading
It's Sunday evening in Herastrau, one of the biggest parks in Bucharest. All the population of Bucharest seems to be here and it's quite a challenge to cycle through running kids, old couples and groups of friends walking in a row that covers the whole length of the path. Chatter noise, latino music blasting from restaurants, screeching bike tires, roller skates, popcorn smell, boat engines, flies. I found a place under a weeping willow in a distant side of the park where I can hear the water splashing against the concrete embankment. But I am prey to mosquitoes and ants. Continue Reading
I am here.
Are you there?
Last February I made an unfortunate mistake while trying to change the hosting for my website and lost all my published articles. Fortunately, my subscribers list survived and now you can see that I am writing again.
This break from blogging was good in a way: you didn't see that online but I wrote 12 short stories for a creative writing workshop here in Bucharest. They're in Romanian and I'd like to translate some of them in English and publish them -- any ideas about which publications I could contact are welcome.
I also wrote a couple of articles about my three months trip in the US. One of them told the story about how exciting travelling alone is and got published in a Romanian weekly called Dilema Veche. The other is about how I prepared for this trip and you can read it in English here.
My blog is not ready yet but I will be working on it in parallel with publishing articles. You will read about how I received a typewriter, about my friends from Idaho meeting my family in Romania and me going out dressed in a nightgown.
Are you still there?
On Valentine's Day a man was feeding seagulls on the shore of the Black Sea. Tens of seagulls were flying in front of him, screaming. The man was tearing small pieces of bread and throwing them to the birds. Some of them were catching the bread while it was still in the air, others picked it from the pavement and flew away as soon as they got the morsel in their beaks. "I used to feed them small fish when I was working on the sea" he said. Continue Reading
The Romanian news channels are raving about two things. Elena Udrea, the former minister of tourism and one of two women who ran for the presidency last year – is being investigated for corruption. The second news item is that Vladimir Putin threatened to invade Romania. Continue Reading
One Saturday evening I got chatting to Mehdi, an Iranian musician who plays in the band Roots Revival Romania. I told him about my blog and he gave me a CD. The cover has a nice design and is made from recycled paper. I felt very grateful but I didn’t tell him that I don’t have a CD player. Within a week I got one. Continue Reading
Greetings from the old fashioned spa in Techirghiol, me and the old folks wave at you.
I would actually call Techirghiol the "city of dogs" as during the first part of my first walk here I saw more dogs than people. Then people appeared too when the shops appeared. Continue Reading