Bunissima

Today I woke up ready to go. didn’t know where. Decided almost before going out the door: Olanesti.
There were lots of things to see. I thought the most interesting were the people and the things they sell.

Fur scarfs.

Regular scarfs.

A kid was selling peeled green walnuts.

Up there was a monastery. Could not get too far. Enough to see that the nature was a free toilet and that the road was narrowing. Fear of snakes had its final word.

This is a VIP trying to do some organic “architecture” by blending in with the area (read: dodging from the camera and failed miserably).

The tower bar is announcing itself.

And, what a surprise, there it comes, after climbing ten thousand stairs and on some more things to get a photo.

People are barbecuing… you meat eaters!!!

Some people wrote their names or who-knows-what in the water.

People trying not to fall from things they adventuroulsy climbed on.

The VIP, again, is admiring the trees. Apparently I could not get rid of her.

One of the famous springs with sulphur water. Smells bad. Could not get in. Getting on top of it was sufficient.

After a bad pizza, a grilled corn could not be more delicious. And warming too, considering that it was getting freezing cold.

Some musiscians are real geniuses. One of them is Susumu Hirasawa.

Yes, I am totally sick of it. But before I tell you what I am sick of, I will tell you why and how it has gotten to this.

First, I went to the pool. And then - maybe I got too much water in my ears- I got sick. And kept going. With the sickness but also at the pool (just the weekends though). And, the reward was great. I eventually figured out what I was doing wrong by watching the little kids swimming and I did the same things. I even learned more swimming styles like this. Water is now my friend.

Apart from the swimming accomplishment, my sister’s mouse broke. Well, I should say first drowned and then smacked itself dead on the floor. The secondary option to the scandaluos mouse lack and overwhelming mass sneezing was, undoubtfully, the TV.
I learned all the telenovelas names, the epic of each, and even the schedule. I also got my Spanish and Portuguese improved. I even learned the If conditionnal in Portuguese.

And I am now up to date with all the ads. The usual crap. Coke thinks they can make drool because you hear a guy on the phone swallowing his coke. Germanos is still taking walks and the guy that says “Because you deserve it”, while he touches his face to underline the importance of buying a men’s face cream, looks like he’s still got a lot of work to do with his persuading skills. Including himself.

Above all, I have seen lots of detergent advertising. I mean, lots. Now they have skin balm in the dish detergent, they have intelligent detergent that protects your wash machine from the chalk deposits. And there’s always Calgon…
But I am so angry. I am so totally angry. Can’t they just for once make a man advertise for detergents? Are women meant to wash until the Apocalypse? I mean yeah… I know, men don’t wash, they never have enough time, especially when someone else can do it for them. The part of the brain that is interested in detergents does not exist for men.
But can’t you, even once, for appearances, make a man advertise for detergents? Take the sexiest man, make him walk on the street, chicks turn their heads because he smells so good and his clothes are so clean and bright, there’s a happy air around, fresh and summery. And then him, at home, with a chick (not two, ’cause I tell you, women will feel cheated, but that can be given a chance). “My secret? The so and so detergent!” No more carrying the detergent everywhere you go so you can recomend it when one is in pain, no more intelligent stain detecting hype. Easy huh?

Did I tell you about that chink? I was at the pool and without wanting I heard part of a conversation of some mid-age, high class women. One of them said that she spends like 50 bucks on detergents. Each month. She was pretty proud of it too.

My mom and dad have been watching an English tv show where they saw, among other funny things, a scene where a guy takes his future wife at home to introduce her to his parents. While they were talking about how they met and all, the mother starts breastfeeding the “baby” that was soon to get married.
Few hours after, they tell me the story of it. I smiled and said it’s kinda funny, kinda English. My dad says then that it might be some truth in it, since he knew about some kid that was breastfed until 9 years old. And that he was eating bread and sucking the milk directly from the source. And then had more bread and so on. I started laughing this time, with disgust. My dad said he was retarded.
And then my mom says that the more time the kids are breastfed, the less intelligent they are. And then she started saying that she was never breastfed. Having barely finished her sentence my dad says to her “You should start doing this… to catch up.”
Suddenly my dad and I started laughing hysterically and my mom started laughing too, thinking we were laughing about the story from the movie.
After we calm down a bit looking amused at her, she is like “Oh… you are making fun of me.”

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.

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.

De cand sunt mica am avut o fobie de serpi. Nu era doar o teama sau o neplacere provocata de vederea vreunei asemenea creaturi, ci o reactie morbida la tot ce tinea de reptile in general si de serpi in special. Uram si cred (nu vreau sa ma concentrez prea tare) ca inca nu imi face placere sa ma gandesc la formele lor de taratoare reci si dezgustatoare. Visam foarte des serpi si de cele mai multe ori ma muscau in vis. Aveam senzatia ca simt piscatura cu adevarat iar cand ma trezeam ma uitam sa vad daca ma muscase vreun purice, un tantar, ceva… Nu era necesar sa ii vad si mi se facea parul maciuca, pentru ca nu cred sa fi vazut unul mai mult de o data. Iar cand ii apareau la televizor, preferam sa nu ma uit sau sa schimb canalul. Nu-i suportam nici macar pe cei facuti din lemn sau din plastic, toate formele serpesti mi se pareau scarboase.
Cu timpul am inceput doar sa-i visez, erau acolo, dar nu ma mai muscau. Uneori la fel de multi ca inainte, dar alteori mai putini. Cu timpul s-au imputinat vizibil si dupa aceea au disparut. Scapasem de cosmarul de a fi urmarita implacabil peste tot de ei. Cred ca deja incepe sa imi revina fobia… daca mai vorbesc mult despre ei, cel putin la plural.

Si astazi am avut o revelatie. Cand eram mici, ne duceau ai nostri la tara. Acolo aveam o casa veche in care nu mai locuia nimeni si pe langa care bunica spunea ca sunt serpi. Intr-o zi am gasit o gaura in gradina si, cu un betigas anemic, am zgandarit-o, am marit-o, am scobit eu acolo cat am scobit pana am vazut un cap iesind din ea. Era bineinteles un cap de sarpe mic si subtire. Cred ca imi aduc aminte si acum ca era de un verde deschis cu niste picatele negre. Cel putin asa mi-l amintesc. Nu crezusem ca perspectiva se putea schimba asa usor. Inainte de a-l vedea, cautam infrigurata gandind ca o sa le vin eu de hac serpilor. In clipa in care l-am vazut, toata determinarea mea s-a transformat intr-o teama de cosmar, mi se facuse o frica din aia seculara ca ma va musca, ca ma va urmari pana in casa, chiar daca voi alerga eu cat ma tineau picioarele. Am inceput sa il imping, sa il intep, sa il apas, sa il inghesui acolo, in pamant, cu obstinare, cu convingere, de parca ar fi fost o chestie de viata si de moarte, gandind, pe masura ce betigasul se faramita si se scurta, ca trebuie sa il inving. Am cautat cu privirea o noua arma de exterminare, o piatra, alt bat, o caramida, dar spre nenorocul meu nu erau prea multe chestii in apropiere iar eu nu imi puteam lua batul de pe sarpe caci m-ar fi inhatat. Dupa confruntarea de tensiune maxima dintre mine si serpisor, cand am vazut ca nu se mai misca si ramasa fara alte resurse de exterminare a proaspatului meu dusman, am fugit repede cat mai aproape de oamenii mari.

Cred ca dumnezeul serpilor are un mod destul de cinic de a se razbuna pe aceia care fac rau supusilor lui. Cred ca, din fericire, li s-au sters niste fisiere, ceva, pe acolo, underground, ca m-au lasat in pace dupa atatia ani.

Acum spune, daca manac covrigeii astia, o sa ma vrei mai tare? Uite ca sunt in culmea placerii, si culmea!… nu pare a fi una de ordin gastric…

The hand job, daca pot sa-i spun asa, e foarte nereusita. Covrigii sunt mult mai mari decat ar trebui, sunt asezati gresit sau ca si cum cineva ar fi pe cale sa se indoape cu ei in fuga, neconcordand deloc cu figura suava si plina de concentrare subtila a tipei.

How do you know that you are spending too much time at your computer?

When, trying to real a real book (the one made from paper), you want to press Ctrl F to find the word you are interested in.

Sometimes around here things are not quite so perfect. I mean, it’s a truism, but nowhere things are really perfect. Let alone the degree of comparison for “perfect”, wich originally should have none. But, let’s not get myself tangled in the more-or-less-known traps of the language.

So, a slice of truth from these parts is that life is not always lived by the patterns already settled by society. Let’s take for instance a Police building, where not only do the employees accomplish their sacred duties, but they also do some other sacred duties, outside-of-the-job. The main one is actually living there, because the police looks like an inhabited house by normal people also.

But now, looking better at the details as a good trained citizen should, I am beggining to have serious doubts. I mean, why in the world do they need two satellite dishes? I think it’s an undercover top secret activity and they use the Godforsakenplace village to do this. I am sure the satellite dishes cover each other as well. If one is not getting the cartoon channel, the other one will.