Bunissima

E un titlu pompos, stiu, cel putin in comparatie cu cu ideea care sta de fapt la baza a ceea ce urmeaza sa se “intample” aici. Este vorba de lucruri care te enerveaza atat de tare incat te umplu de o ura imploziva si stiind ca nu le poti opri si nici schimba te fac uneori sa vrei sa-ti iei toti campii si sa pleci pe alte meleaguri.
Am facut o lista a lucrurilor pe care (si altii) le urasc, lucruri care nu sunt neaparat printre cele mai comune, amuzante sau pur si simplu consacrate in domeniu enervarii. Pot sa nici nu te scoata din minti, sa nu insemne nimic, sau nici macar sa nu existe, dar este important sa stii sa te feresti de ele, ca sa nu se intample vreodata.
Aceasta este lista mea de chestii pe care le urasca sau care pur si simplu nu-mi plac:
1. Cea mai mare cruzime cu care te poate trata cineva e ca, atunci cand dormi, sa faca indeajuns de mult zgomot incat sa te trezeasca. Problema e de natura duala si implica doi factori. Primul este somnul tau pretios, care dintr-un motv sau altul e foarte usor de deranjat. Si cealalta parte a problemei este intotdeuna celalalt, caruia oricat de tare i-ai urla ca nu poti sa dormi daca vorbeste tare sau urla o jumatate de ora la telefon, tot nu intelege. Reversul acestei situatii e atunci cand tu incerci sa nu trezesti pe cineva. Se pare ca uiti de fiecare data sa nu trantesti usa, sau cand chiar incerci din greu sa nu fasai foile alea, atunci dai chix mai tare.
2. Oamenii care bat apa-n piua despre acelasi subiect si care in loc sa aduca noi idei, fie si la acelasi subiect, ei discuta incontinuu despre acelasi lucru folosind doar noi cuvinte.
3. Asta e despre tubul de pasta de dinti. Dar nu e vorba despre a apasa la jumatatea lui pentru a face sa iasa pasta. Asta conteaza doar in filme. In viata reala te enerveaza atunci cand in loc sa invarti capacul pe tub, evident pentru a-l insuruba, tu invarti tubul in capac. Si culmea, nu se insurubeaza.
4. Oamenii care simt nevoia sa afirme ceva despre niste lucruri care sunt deja acolo, nu au nevoie sa fie re-actualizate prin vorbire caci toata lumea stie deja despre ce e vorba. Ceva de genul “Aia e o masina.” Mersi mult, stiu si eu cum arata o masina.
5. Urasc prosoapele ude. Pe care nu le-am udat eu. La fel cu colacul de la baie. Din cate stiu eu, exista hartie igienica.
6. Urasc tradatorii. Dar iubesc tradarea. Aaaa… nu, asta n-am spus-o eu.
6. Autobuzele pline sunt intotdeuna un test. De natura psihica, fizica si a glandelor sudoripare.
7. Taximetriistii care vorbesc prea mult sunt intotdeuna suspecti. De aceea ii contracarez mereu cu o privire in care imi ascund ura dar spun “Stiu ce faci, nu ma pacalesti.”
8. Cand te imbraci prea gros sau prea subtire.
9. Oameniii care isi fac nevoile cu usa deschisa si cu lumina stinsa. Si nu vorbesc neaparat despre pipi.
10. Cand esti atat de beat incat confunzi balconul cu baia si florile cu W.C.-ul.

Then you get two. I wonder if it was a free ride.

Punand ieri un semn de egalitate intre omul de pe Marte si rromii sau poate si romanii care ajung peste tot, numai bani sa iasa, indeplineam mai mult un act sa zic asa ludic, o gluma jucausa care mi-a trecut spontan prin minte, aproape amuzandu-ma pe mine insami.
Cu tristete descopar ca, asemeni unei previziuni (ce ironic!), am scris ieri cu multumirea amuzata despre ceva ce astazi ajung sa citesc intr-o transpunere sumbra si serioasa a faptelor, mai mult sau mai putin aceleasi cu cele la care ma refeream eu, intr-o publicatie englezeasca (pe scurt, se vorbeste despre demascarea unei intregi retele de mafioti care aduc copii din Romania pentru a cersi in Anglia, despre furt si depre faptul ca banii “munciti” acolo se transforma in kitsch-uri sub forma de case in Romania).
Din pacate nu mai e nici un om pe Marte si nici o gluma, au ramas doar Romanii in Anglia. Nu stiu daca ne meritam sau nu soarta, renumele, sau mai ales, daca ne meritam locul in Uniune. Incep sa devin sceptica.
Atunci cand am iesit prima oara din Romania ca cetatean european aveam mandria ca fac si eu parte din aceasta uniune si ca noi romanii nu mai suntem vazuti ca niste intrusi sau ca niste adaosuri nedorite la o clasa rasata precum cea europeana. Nu este vorba de oamenii care isi traiesc viata linistit si fara fraude, care au un job normal si sunt in stare sa urle in gura mare ca ei sunt cinstiti si ca sa se faca diferenta intre ei si ceilalti, din cealalta clasa, injositoare si care se auto-vexeaza dar careia, neavand anumite principii morale-spre ciuda noastra- nu ii pasa catusi de putin. E vorba tocmai despre ei, despre ceilalti. Ce putem noi face cu ei? Nici macar nu stiu cati dintre romanii care fura sunt romani romani sau tigani romani. Presa si oamenii din afara nu fac o distinctie si cred ca ar cam trebui sa nu facem nici noi. Tiganii sunt ai nostri. Noi ni i-am facut asa. Insa nimic nu le da dreptul sa se foloseasca de copii. Chiar si la noi in tara vezi copii cersind pe strazi, cantand un cantecel sau rostind “Tatal nostru” printr-o respiratie greoaie si hamesita, cu multe pauze obosite pentru a impresiona mai mult. Pentru copii trebuie facut ceva. Adultii deprinsi deja cu gustul lozelii, al facutului de nimic, si al autoservirii cu banii altora, nu mai au nici o sansa. Pentru ca nu vor.
Am incercat sa scriu un comentariu, sa zic si eu ceva ca roman in fata tuturor strainilor care ne judeca si mi-am dat seama ca nu am ce spune. Nu ramane decat tristetea de a te sti neputincios in fata antipatiei intense a atator oameni.
Nu stiu ce cautam noi ca popor in Uniunea Europeana dar toti care se duc la furat si la inselat sigur stiu ce cauta. Ei iau “beneficiile” si noi platim pretul. E rusinos.

Cu toata nebunia asta in lume in legatura cu omul de pe Marte, cred ca e cazul sa spunem lucrurilor pe nume.
“Persoana” din poza mi s-a parut sincer la inceput a fi un Isus travestit… Nu am ce face, asa mi-a trecut imaginea asta prin cap ca un flash, fara macar sa ma gandesc la cat de mare e blasfemia. Motivul nefericitei asemanari a fost principiul ce-vezi-aia-e: are o fata cam… paroasa, are sani, si o alura foarte divina.
Dar mi-am dat seama ca n-ar trebui sa ma las inselata de aparente.
Am concluzionat ca romanii sunt atat de inteligentii incat au depasit orice fel de bariere si au luat-o inaintea restului omenirii. Ce biserici, ce tramvaie si metrouri, ce Italia, Spania sau Anglia dom’le? Astfel ca s-au dus pe Marte in asteptarea popularii. Si daca tot s-a intamplat sa apara Rover, femeia rroma, neavand mare lucru de facut pe acolo, cu mana intinsa ii ofera sa-i ghiceasca viitorul.

Read this in English

I love dogs. Since I don’t have a dog I like to take photos of them and then look at them. If you wonder why I don’t have one despite the fact I love them so much, that is because I forget to feed them. If I sometimes don’t know when I’m hungry how in the world would I guess when the dog hungry?
I don’t know if I always loved dogs. I am pretty sure I did not like stray dogs because there were a lot of them around here and they attacked people, so I considered them the evil kind of dogs. One time, I was with my sister late at night between the dark blocs. We find ourselves suddenly surrounded by e herd of crazy vampire rabid dogs. They were barking at us so bad that you’d say we had done something bad that offended them. I would have preferred to be yelled at by mom than by those dogs. “Let’s start running” said my sister. My instinct told me the same but rationally I knew that we had to stay still. I told her to start talking to them… just like that, dog talk. In no time at all the dogs began wagging their tails at us and fighting each other about who’s getting petted.
This is when I learned they were cool. Ever since, when I am walking on the street and see any, I look at them deeply in the eyes and tell them that I am not an enemy. They always seem to understand that.
So whenever I can, I help other dogs to stay away from inconsiderate people. There was a dog that had find a lady whose mind he could play with. He was barking at her and getting closer, to her obvious fret. She got scared and this is when I intervened. “Here doggy doggy” I called the dog and told the lady to stop running.
In a little while I find myself with a tail wagging behind my backpack. That did not disturb me. But in front of me a guy starts laughing and then he says:
-Pretty nice dog, how much you want for him? I looked at him from head to shoes and said:
-It’s for free if you tell me where you got you Make shoes from.

As I mentioned before, my grandma is making tuica at home. The plums are handpicked after being vigorously shaken down form the tree with a big stick. After that she lets them ferment for… a while. She then puts them all in the copper and makes a big fire underneath it, in the open air. It takes some hours for all the fermented plums to boil and to produce the steam that goes from the copper through a pipe in cold water, wich then condenses the steam to finally make it come out in a bucket as tuica.

I am not a tuica person. The first time in my life I got drunk happened to be with the family’s traditional drink, and believe me, it was not too pleasant. Especially when you are throwing up under your mom and dad’s drunk-but-not-puking flabbergasted looks. After this incident I didn’t drink tuica for a few years, even smelling it made me sick.

My mom had to do something too. Last summer she made visinata, which is made with some sour cherries fermented in sugar and then drowned in tuica. For an extra flavor and quality, she had added some raspberries. As it was too late for me to go buy anything and I couldn’t trick anyone into doing it for me, I had nothing else to do and no beer. I remembered about the visinata and I asked my mom if she still had it. She said she did but “you shouldn’t be drinking, it’s bad for you, you get used to drinking…” you know, mom stuff. I eventually convinced her that I will make a good assessment oh the quality of her visinata, and being curious about how good of a job she had done, she gave me some.
I could proudly say it’s the best visinata I’ve ever had. It just feels like there is no tuica in it, wich is good. I am still not crazy about it. What you have there is more like an alcohol flavored sour cherry juice. Which… gets you pretty drunk.
Last night I wanted some. Since she keeps it supervised so I can’t attack it, to make sure she won’t refuse me again fearing a shortage of visinata, I told her “you know my sleeping problem, it’s just a hard time I’m going through and I need some to have a good sleep.” That worked of course, what kind of degenerated mother wants to see her child being sleepless?
Unfortunately my sleep wasn’t so good. I kept thinking of what a wonderful sleep I would have had if my mom wasn’t so stingy.

Ma uitam din intamplare pe Discovery la o emisiune… cred ca se numeste Cum-va-mai-facem-scarba-azi. Acolo o adunatura de obsedati aduna niste viermi dezgustatori, asemanatori unor rame mari si grase. E vorba de o tehnica pe care ti-o poti perfectiona numai cautand viermi prin noroi cu rabdare si simuland foarte bine normalitatea, care se opune de aceasta data notiunii de anormalitate ca greata. Dupa ce ii iau in mana si ii evalueaza, ii cantaresc cu privirea pe toate partile, dupa toate acestea, culegatorii de viermi ii … spala, si asta tot cu mainile!! Mainile goale, fara manusi!!!
Apoi se duc sa ii numere, unul cate unul, incet, cu rabdare, atingand aceeasi forma alunecoasa, moale si rozalie de cate ori e nevoie. Ii numara pentru a-i vinde. Cred ca de-aia tipul ala prinsese numai 15, ca sa nu aiba ce sa numere. Si, pentru ca asta nu era de ajuns, trebuie sa demonstreze cum pot chestiile astea sa muste. Procedeul e simplu si consta in a plasa vreo duzina de viermi pe mana si a astepta ca unul sa scoata capul si sa muste. Si dupa toate astea trebuie sa mai si zambesti in fata camerei. Cred ca datu’ la boboci se intampla intre doua secunde de filmari. Acu’ io stau si ma intreb… daca viermii astia sunt folositi la pescuit, pestii care sunt prinsi cu ei or fi ajuns vreodata in Romania? Hmm, nu cred ca acei viermi cu pesti cu tot, dar am o teorie conform careia toti pestii sunt prinsi cu viermi si prin urmare cred ca trec din nou la o dieta vegetariana.
OK,OK, stiu ca nu o sa o fac iar, dar renunt definitiv la peste.
Culesul de melci e mai nobil decat pescuitul, nu implica nici viermi si nici carlige. Asa ca o sa incep sa mananc melci.

With its relaxed atmosphere and great architecture, Sibiu is the place where you want to enjoy a coffee in a nice classy jazz place or have a kebab in the middle of the night with your beloved. And you can also enjoy the sights, because there are plenty of things to stare at.

Sibiu bus station. This european-like city lodged some gipsies in the main gara, to my surprise. Surprise I say because in my naivety I was expecting this former european cultural capital to have solved its problems of sorts.

The gypsies were feeling free to do whatever, and since no one seemed to be upset, they can brestfeed the babies right there.

Some others were just minding their own business, waiting for the bus to show up.

The kid, having been fed, was then passed to the granma.

They were basically hanging around, hunting with their eyes the credulous prey. I did not seem to qualify for such an honor, even with my easily noticeable camera that was making me look more like a tourist. I guess that was because I passed the test, when asked something in Romanian I answered back politely in the same language. Some others, less lucky, got surrounded by all these women, and their skirts.

The guy they put their claws on did not look Romanian. And if he was Romanian, he must have been very soft. The gypsy ladies were trying to sell him a fake golden ring and they all seemed to have a problem in getting to an agreement. One of them girls was smarter. She just took the money-that he had the brilliant idea to somehow take out- right from his hand and right away replaced it with the glittering tin. And so he was left, eyes gaping in the sun.