luni, 12 octombrie 2015

Despre toate astea...




A venit toamna. Cad frunzele. De ieri, ploaia nu mai conteneste. Staaai, nu-i o compunere de clasa a IV-a!


Sunt pesti care inoata in acvariu. Fericiti. Canta un playlist cu Mozart. Apa a fost improspatata si nu mai uiti sa le aprinzi lumina si sa le dai de mancare zi de zi. Iti plimbi degetul pe sticla pentru ca stii ca il vor urmari. Cataracta l-a facut pe unul dintre ei sa devina apatic. Mereu te gandesti la el, cat sufera. Ce poti face? Ai fost la farmacii, te-ai informat pe internet. Nu se trateaza definitiv, doar se tine in frau.

Cine te pregateste pentru toate astea? Ai timp sa iti scoti hainele de iarna de sub pat si sa le pui in dulap. Puloverele sunt mototolite ca niste hartii stranse in doi pumni suparati. Ai timp sa iti speli incaltamintea scofalcita de vara, sa o pui la uscat in balcon tocmai acum, cand ploua si e frig. Cand se vor usca, cine stie cand, le vei ascunde in rucsacul de munte pana in mai. 

Mergi pana la Ikea si te uiti, mai intai, la sutele de masini din parcare, apoi la miile de oameni din magazin. Ce furnicareala pe o vreme batuta de vant! Nu esti ca ei. Inchizi robinetul la apa sa nu curga prea multa pentru ca tu ai, in timp ce altii o refolosesc cu ceilalti din familie. Refuzi cu inversunare punga de plastic de la Mega Image, cu zambetul pe buze, scotand din rucsac cartofi, piersici, patrunjel si ciocolata amaruie luate de pe raft. 

- Uitati, nu mai am nimic in rucsac!

Te simti din ce in ce mai diferit. Nu ai vicii, nu faci excese. Cumperi cate putin, sa nu se strice, sa nu se invecheasca. Ai haine de la altii. 

Mergi la Ikea sa iei in final niste material de perdea... sau de draperie... doi intr-unu' sa fie. Mai bine asa. O vei coase chiar tu pentru ca poti, pentru ca ai timp, pentru ca esti tu cu tine si pentru ca iti place sa stii de toate. Si vei gauri si peretii care nu se lasa gauriti pentru ca vrei sa fie cald si intim. 

Ai timp sa dai drumul la o lumanare parfumata si sa iti faci ceai pe care sa il bei din cana cu Paris pe care ai gasit-o intr-o cutie la fostul loc de munca. Cadillacul roz e mai frumos langa lampa cu sare de Himalaya care imprastie o lumina portocalie pe birou. 

Ai timp sa le raspunzi prietenilor cu mesaje lungi, pe care le trimiti ca pe niste scrisori. Sunt prietenii tai care s-au imputinat pentru ca asta face timpul, ii impuntineaza si ii face mai buni. Si le scrii cat de bine e sa fii tu, sa muncesti din greu pentru tine, sa inveti lucruri noi pe care acum o luna nu le stiai. Le spui cum te dor ochii pentru ca de dimineata de la 7 pana seara la 10 si ceva tu lucrezi la calculator. Totusi, ai inceput sa faci exercitii de ochi. Din cand in cand, te ridici de pe scaun sa mai mananci cate ceva, sa bei apa, sa dansezi, sa faci in fuga niste gimnastica, sa te uiti la blocurile gri din cartier. Ai timp sa iesi cu oameni care iti sunt aproape si iti ofera sprijin atunci cand nu mai poti. Iesi cu ei la o plimbare, iti spui pasurile, inveti sa privesti lucrurile si din alta perspectiva si o iei de la capat un pic mai intelept. Ai timp sa ii iei in brate si sa te plimbi cu ei pentru ca asta iti place tie, sa pui picioarele astea hodorogite deja sa te plimbe pe afara, pe unde se traieste.

Ai timp sa gatesti si sa faci piata, sa te bucuri de mirodeneria de la tarabe, de oamenii care forfotesc, sa faci gimnastica de dimineata si sa incerci sa faci ceva cu lustra cheala din tavan. Ai timp sa faci fotografii sapunului natural pe care inca il pastrezi pentru momente ca acestea, pentru idei care scapara si nu trebuie lasate sa zboare. Stati, pasari, nu plecati! Sunt cocorii, care zboara in V...

Ai timp sa privesti porumbeii care au iesit la zbor cat a fost vremea buna. Ai timp sa speli geamurile si usa zangalite de maini ude, de stropi, vapori si praf. Sa stergi de praf fiecare coltisor si sa iti aduci aminte de povestea fiecarui lucrusor uitat de vreme. La naiba, urasti sa stergi praful, dar uite si tu ce istorie renasti cand faci asta! 

Ai timp sa citesti seara de seara, chiar si dimineata, sa lenevesti cu laptopul in brate si sa te uiti la documentare recomandate de prietena ta plecata in Lyon pe care o iubesti tare mult. Vezi Humans care te copleseste si te scoate la iveala asa cum esti: mic, cu povestea ta care e imensa pentru lumea asta. Nu esti ca ei, iti mai spui o data. Esti omul acela care sta pe loc si in jurul lui totul se misca repede. Tu inveti sa ai rabdare si sa fii cat mai putin risipitor. 

Cine te pregateste pentru toate schimbarile? Pentru timpul petrecut cu tine de care te sperii atunci cand il imparti cu cineva? Cine te pregateste pentru bucuria asta? Cat de teama iti e sa recunosti ca da, oricat de mult iubesti pe cineva, ti-e atat de bine sa fii cu tine din cand in cand? 

Ai timp sa iti recapeti fortele si increderea, sa iti dai seama ca faci bine, chiar daca nu faci ca ceilalti, ca poti zambi si ca te poti bucura de ordinea ta, de curatenia ta, de stelele tale, de pilota ta umpluta cu fulgi care tine de cald cat esti singur. 

Nu esti ca ceilalti. Fruntea ta tot incruntata va fi, gandurile tot vor sapa la cele doua santuri dintre sprancenele tale. Gandurile se invart ca tiribombele. Nu esti ca ceilalti pentru ca mereu te gandesti la cei din jur, sa fie bine, sa nu fii in plus, sa nu superi natura. Nu esti ca ceilalti pentru ca vrei sa fii cineva mic, dar important in univers. Nu esti ca ceilalti pentru ca esti o pasare libera care nu se poate acomoda in colivii, pentru ca nu te adaptezi mizeriei, ci faci din caramizi vechi case noi. 

Ti-e frica de razboi, de oameni rai, de intuneric si singuratate. Daca toate astea ar veni maine, tu ai facut tot ce ti-a stat in putinta sa fii mai bun.

Ai timp sa fii tu... Cat mai e timp...

luni, 14 septembrie 2015

Oameni frumosi - Vincent van Meenen



(EN) Vincent van Meenen is a Belgian living in Athens. There, he feels useful. There, he feels accomplished by teaching the immigrants theater, talking and dancing with them. He loves Athens and the feeling of being useful in this place.

He studied acting and traveled Europe and New York like a thirsty migratory. In his childhood, his godfather told him:” You don’t have to do anything here as long as you take a book from the library and read it!”, so he did so. Now, he is a writer creating some amazing stories, trying to keep up his own style. He will release his first book this autumn and for sure it will be a best seller in a far away country (this thing with the best seller is a personal project he won’t give up because his friends won’t let him).

He’s carrying a curse with him: being interested only by interesting things. He can not do things without making them vast and without wandering about them: oaaaa! Anyone can easily find him as an unusual pattern to imitate, but I have no doubts everyone will fail! Though shaking, his hands are strong and gentle. Imagine this for a writer! There is a purity he holds inside; intelligence and kindness are completing each other into his body. He is a good one and this I can hardly find around me but, most important, he spreads this good and loving part around him. He has an opinion and he’s not afraid of saying it, though nothing seems to bother him in the first place.
“Generosity and kindness are the key to all life. I will go around Europe and spread this word through my writings, through my body, through my gestures and behavior. From now on, world is my Monastery.” This is what he was writing while passing San Joao d’Arga Monastery, learning generosity from Mario Rocha artist. This year, he presented the entire text written there during a speech he held at European Citizen Campus.

I met him in Ruse in a volunteering program intensively living his life and levitating his own craziness. For us, volunteers, he was a beautiful and strong man who made us laugh like crazy, the link between what we were and what we wanted to be. For me, he was beautiful and still is.

Ana Neacsa: What beautiful people are?

Vincent van Meenen: So, since in your eyes I am a beautiful person already, I have nothing to be ashamed of, except for my lack of faith. At best, I am a mixture of a warrior and a priest. All the other times, I am just Vincent. Beautiful people are those who have lost their identity, what they believe in, what they grew up in. If you manage to scratch away this part of your identity, what remains will be beautiful. Beautiful people often said no to a lot of things. Beauty is about compassion with what is around. It’s about the absurdity of our existence, and the awareness of our own disappearance.

Ana Neacsa: You do believe in…

Vincent van Meenen: I believe in God, in all the gods ever created by mankind, including the ones to be created in the aftermath. I don’t believe in money though, which I consider the God of our times. I believe only in inhuman Gods, because following Jesus makes no sense, nor does it to follow any other holy saint. Those guys were just following God as well, like we should, our own proper God. Following the saints is like following the waiter of the restaurant. It’s the food we want, not the waiter (unless you really want the waiter because he might just be the temple of your own fertility-cult).
How you call your God, is up to you to choose. I am a believer of all religions, of everything that is beyond what is here and now. Everything that brings me somewhere else, I will follow. I believe in the white shadow that is everywhere. As an artist, you have the ability to create work with your white shadow that touches the white shadow of a perceiver of your artworks. When two white shadows touch, you are going beyond communication and you touch a part of eternity together. I believe in snail-houses and spirals, in DNA and churches, in Holy places and Leonard Cohen, in equal rights and traditional costumes at the same time (because let’s be honest, traditional costumes are part of the oppression of mankind, wearing a traditional costume makes you bow for whatever paternalistic nationalist believe the ones that invented those costumes believed in.)


Ana Neacsa: So, you’re writing. I would like to know what about. What kind of character do you think world needs and it wasn’t created so far?


Vincent van Meenen: I try to write for people. What I write about is everything that connects human beings. This is why I am able to cry in the face of religious tourists, this is why I love people who are reaching to the sky just to surrender. We are doing our best, all of us. There is no salvation, not before, nor after death. The characters needed on this earth are all the characters whose feet are running upon it. I don’t think the earth can become a better place than it is.
I believe self-expression and love are the only thing we really need in life, and every moment not spend in either of those stades is wasted. A short life full of love, self-expression and generosity (because in art those two go hand in hand, there is no art without generosity, all art should be free, always, it is like picking a flower for someone and giving it away) is what I am going for.

Ana Neacsa: You do have a point of equilibrium, don’t you?


Vincent van Meenen: Equilibrium is a concept I don’t believe in. Either you are alive, either you are dead. As long as you are alive, your body, mind and soul must have found some equilibrium, because without it, you would be dead.

Ana Neacsa: Are you enough for the world? Is the world enough for you?


Vincent van Meenen: The world is way too big for me, and I am way to small for the world. I just try to wonder as much as possible. I’d be happy with a neighborhood. Just a simple neighborhood where I can drink my coffee, have my bread, buy vegetables on a local market and drink in a local meeting place with everyone who feels like it. In some countries drinking alone is considered a sin. I don’t believe in this. When I drink alone I feel connected to people long gone. When I smoke alone I feel like sacrificing myself to the cycle of life and death, and there is not a single action I undertake without consideration of life and death. We are skulls and bones, from the beginning till the end.


Ana Neacsa: Can you share with us some of your “pink power”?

Vincent van Meenen: Pink power is not any different from any other power in the world. Power corrupts. To be honest, this whole pink power thing is a joke, something we made up right here.
I don’t feel comfortable without a role in a group, and the role of the joker is often vacant. When you told me that everyone is whirling around me, I felt offended and ashamed, because so often I don’t go with the group, I stay alone in my room and do whatever the moment tells me to do. I try just to be, nothing more, how impossible that may seem. Wherever I receive something, I try to give something in return. In the end I am a very lonely person, just looking for his path, like all of us. I am less extraordinary then people think. Somehow I am just trying to spend the time until I die in a way that makes other people happy, whatever cultural action that takes. I have no borders, perversity is my biggest friend and cultural differences don’t scare me at all. I will adapt like a chameleon and carry the water to where it should be brought. I hope other people find their way to release themselves from any chains that are restraining them.

Ana Neacsa: The most beautiful word in the world is…


Vincent van Meenen: The most beautiful word in the world is Feltamadunk, which means ‘We shall rise from death’ in Hungarian, a language almost no one speaks, a language that has barely any similarities with any other language family. Still it is not dead. Feltamadunk! For all of us. Because the spirit of love is eternal, just like the spirit of killing.


Ana Neacsa: It can be seen in your eyes that you’re still innocent sometimes, maybe most of the times. How come you managed to keep this so pure?


Vincent van Meenen: Innocence and wondering come together. If you truly wonder like a child about what is happening around you, your innocence will be evenly high. It is a dangerous thing.

Ana Neacsa: Today… what is so magnificent about today?

Vincent van Meenen: Today is magnificent because it is not yesterday, nor tomorrow. Today is the only day in which we are able to make a change. Today we can fall in love, change our religion, change our future or become another being. Today is where life plays its game. Beyond today is actually nothing, and before today, nothing was.

Ana Neacsa: There is nothing in the world like…

Vincent van Meenen: There is nothing in the world like a hug.


(RO) Vincent van Meenen este un belgian domicilat in Atena. Acolo se simte implinit. Acolo simte ca are un rost, invatandu-i teatru pe imigranti, vorbind si dansand cu ei. Iubeste Atena si sentimentul de a fi folositor in acest loc.

A studiat actoria si a calatorit in Europa si New York ca un migrator insetat. Atunci cand era copil, nasul lui de botez i-a spus: “Nu e nevoie sa faci nimic in aceasta casa atat timp cat vei lua o carte din biblioteca si o vei citi”, asa ca i-a urmat indrumarea. Acum, este scriitor si creeaza niste povesti extraordinare, incercand sa isi pastreze un stil al sau. Va lansa prima carte in aceasta toamna si cu siguranta va fi best seller intr-o tara indepartata (treaba asta cu best seller-ul este un proiect personal la care nu va renunta deoarece prietenii lui nu-l vor lasa).

Poarta un blestem cu el: sa fie interesat doar de lucrurile interesante. Nu poate face lucrurile fara sa le dea amploare si fara sa se minuneze de ele: oaaaa! Oricine poate crede cu usurinta ca e un sablon iesit din comun bun de imitat, dar nu am nicio indoiala ca oricine va esua. Desi tremuratoare, mainile sale sunt puternice si blande. Imaginati-va asta pentru un scriitor! Are o puritate pe care o pastreaza in interior; inteligenta si blandetea se completeaza reciproc in trupul sau. Este un om bun – un lucru pe care cu greu il gasesc in jurul meu. Cel mai important, insa, este ca raspandeste in jur bunatatea si iubirea sa. Are opinii clare si transante uneori pe care nu ii e teama sa si le dezvaluie, desi nimic nu pare sa-l nemultumeasca la prima vedere.

“Generozitatea si bunavointa sunt cheia intregii vieti. Voi merge in jurul Europei si voi raspandi acest cuvant prin scrierile mele, prin trupul meu, prin gesturi si comportament. De acum, lumea este manastirea mea”. Asta scria la un moment dat, aflandu-se in manastirea San Joao d’Arga, invatand despre generozitate de la artistul Mario Rocha. In acest an, a prezentat intregul text scris acolo in cadrul unui discurs sutinut in cadrul European Citizen Campus.

L-am intalnit in Ruse intr-un program de voluntariat, traindu-si intens viata si levitand in propria-i nebunie. Pentru noi, voluntarii, a fost un om frumos si puternic care ne-a facut sa radem ca nebunii, legatura dintre ceea ce eram si ceea ce ne doream sa fim. Pentru mine a fost un om frumos si inca este.

Ana Neacsa: Ce sunt oamenii frumosi?

Vincent Van Meenen: Asadar, din moment ce in ochii tai sunt deja o persoana frumoasa, nu am nimic de care sa imi fie rusine, cu exceptia lipsei mele de credinta. In cel mai bun caz, sunt un amestec intre un razboinic si un preot. In toate celelalte momente, sunt doar Vincent. Oamenii frumosi sunt cei care si-au pierdut identitatea, lucrurile in care cred si cu care au crescut. Daca reusesti sa indepartezi aceasta parte din propria identitate, ceea ce ramane va fi frumos. Oamenii frumosi au spus adesea “nu” multor lucruri. Frumusetea este despre compasiunea cu ceea ce este in jur. Este despre absurditatea existentei noastre si despre constientizarea disparitiei noastre.

Ana Neacsa: Crezi in…

Vincent van Meenen: Cred in Dumnezeu, in toti zeii creati vreodata de omenire, inclusiv in cei ce urmeaza a fi creati. Nu cred in bani, desi ii consider Dumnezeul zilelor noastre. Cred doar in zeii neumani pentru ca a-L urma pe Iisus nu are niciun sens, cum nu are sens sa urmezi niciun alt sfant. Acestia L-au urmat la randul lor pe Dumnezeu, asa cum ar trebui sa ne urmam si noi propriul nostru Dumnezeu. A-i urma pe sfinti e ca si cand l-ai urma pe ospatarul de la restaurant. Mancarea este cea pe care o dorim, nu ospatarul care ne-o aduce (cu exceptia cazului in care dorim cu adevarat ospatarul pentru ca el ar putea fi templul propriului cult al fertilitati).
Cum iti numesti Dumnezeul este alegerea ta. Eu sunt un credincios al tuturor religiilor, a tot ceea ce este dincolo de aici si acum. Voi urma tot ceea ce ma va duce in alta parte. Cred in umbra alba care este pretutindeni. Ca artist, ai la indemana propria-ti umbra alba cu care sa creezi, iar aceasta va atinge umbra alba a celui ce iti va percepe creatiile. Cand doua umbre albe se ating, ajung mai presus de comunicare si ating o parte a eternitatii impreuna. Cred in casele si spiralele melcilor, in ADN si biserici, in locuri sfinte si in Leonard Cohen, in drepturi egale si costume traditionale in acelasi timp (pentru ca, sa fim sinceri, costumele traditionale fac parte din opresiune omenirii, pentru ca a purta un costum traditional te face sa te inchini in fata oricarei credinte nationalist paternaliste in care cei ce au creat aceste costume au crezut).

Ana Neacsa: Asadar, scrii. Mi-ar placea sa stiu despre ce. De ce fel de personaj crezi ca are nevoie lumea dar nu a fost inca creat?

Vincent van Meenen: Incerc sa scriu pentru oameni si scriu despre tot ceea ce conecteaza fiintele umane. De aceea pot plange in fata turistilor religiosi, de aceea iubesc oamenii care ajung la cer doar pentru a se preda. Facem tot posibilul, noi toti. Nu exista mantuire nici inainte, nici dupa moarte. Personajele necesare pe acest pamant sunt toate acele personaje ale caror picioare merg pe el. Nu cred ca lumea poate deveni un loc mai bun decat este.
Cred ca auto-exprimarea si iubirea sunt singurele lucruri de care avem nevoie in viata si orice moment care nu este petrecut in oricare dintre aceste stadii este unul pierdut. O viata scurta plina de iubire, impartasire si generozitate (pentru ca in arta acestea din urma merg mana in mana, nu exista arta fara generozitate, tot ceea ce este arta ar trebui sa fie la indemana tuturor, intotdeauna, este ca atunci cand culegi o floare pentru cineva si i-o dai) este ceea ce am de gand sa indeplinesc.

Ana Neacsa: Ai un punct de echilibru, nu-i asa?

Vincent van Meenen: Echilibrul este un concept in care nu cred. Ori esti in viata, ori esti mort. Atat timp cat esti in viata, trupul, mintea si sufletul tau trebuie sa fi gasit un echilibru pentru ca fara el ai fi deja mort.

Ana Neacsa: Esti suficient pentru lumea asta? Estea ea suficienta pentru tine?

Vincent van Meenen: Lumea e mult prea mare pentru mine si eu sunt mult prea mic pentru lume. Incerc doar sa ma minunez cat mai mult posibil. As fi fericit intr-o vecinatate. Doar o simpla vecinatate unde sa-mi beau cafeaua, sa-mi castig painea, sa-mi cumpar legumele dintr-o piata locala si sa beau intr-un loc de intalnire autohton cu oricine simte la fel. In unele tari, este un pacat sa bei de unul singur. Nu cred in asta. Cand beau singur, ma simt conectat cu oameni care au disparut demult. Cand fumez singur, simt ca ma sacrific ciclului vietii si al mortii si nu-mi asum nicio singura actiune fara sa iau in considerare viata si moartea. Suntem cranii si oase de la inceput pana la sfarsit.

Ana Neacsa: Poti sa impartasesti cu noi putin din “puterea ta roz” (N.A.: in viata de zi cu zi, Vincent poarta roz, vorbeste despre “roz” ca fiind o stare de spirit).

Vincent van Meenen: “Puterea roz” nu este cu nimic deosebita fata de celelalte puteri din lume. Puterea corupe. Sa fiu sincer, chestia asta cu “puterea roz” este o gluma, ceva ce am inventat aici.
Nu ma simt confortabil fara un rol in grup, iar rolul joker-ului este mai mereu liber. Cand mi-ai spus ca toate lumea se invarte in jurul meu, m-am simtit ofensat si rusinat pentru ca de cele mai multe ori nu merg cu grupul, ci stau singur in camera mea si fac ceea ce imi cere momentul. Incerc doar sa fiu, nimic mai mult, oricat de imposibil ar parea. Oricand primesc ceva, incerc sa ofer ceva in schimb. In cele din urma, sunt o persoana foarte solitara, cautandu-si calea ca noi toti. Sunt mai putin extraordinar decat cred oamenii. Cumva, incerc sa imi petrec timpul pana la final intr-un mod care ii face pe ceilalti fericiti, indiferent de actiunea culturala pe care o implica. Nu am granite, perversitatea e cel mai mare prieten al meu si diferentele culturale nu ma sperie deloc. Ma voi adapta ca un cameleon si voi duce cu mine apa in locul in care trebuie sa ajunga. Sper ca ceilalti sa isi gaseasca drumul prin care sa se elibereze din orice lanturi care ii restrictioneaza.

Ana Neacsa: Cel mai frumos cuvant din lume este…

Vincent van Meenen: Cel mai frumos cuvant din lume este “Feltamadunk” care inseamna “Vom invia” in limba maghiara, o limba pe care nu o vorbeste mai nimeni, o limba care are prea putine similaritati cu oricare alta familie lingvistica. Totusi, nu e moarta. Feltamadunk! Pentru noi toti. Pentru ca spiritul iubirii este etern, la fel ca spiritul de a ucide.

Ana Neacsa: Se poate vedea in ochii tai ca inca esti inocent uneori, poate de cele mai multe ori. Cum ai reusit sa pastrezi aceasta puritate?

Vincent van Meenen: Inocenta si curiozitatea vin la pachet. Daca te intrebi mereu asemeni unui copil despre ceea ce se intampla in jurul tau, inocenta ta va fi si mai mare. Este un lucru periculos.

Ana Neacsa: Azi… ce e asa magnific la aceasta zi?

Vincent van Meenen: Aceasta zi e magnifica pentru ca nu e nici ieri, nici maine. Azi e singura zi in care e posibil sa facem o schimbare. Astazi ne putem indragosti, ne putem schimba religia, viitorul sau putem deveni alte fiinte. Astazi e ziua in care viata isi joaca jocul. Dincolo de azi nu este nimic si inainte de azi a fost tot nimic.

Ana Neacsa: Nu e nimic in lume la ca…

Vincent van Meenen: Nu e nimic in lume ca o imbratisare.

duminică, 19 iulie 2015

P.S. to Volunteer in Ruse (10)



I forget only by nature or only if it is not important. I don't erase my past, even if the present is more important and more real. It's not about being nostalgic, it's just about being happy with my future. One day I will enjoy this more than now.

I really think I was the luckiest one in Ruse. Why? Since the beginning until the end I felt happy and nothing put any shadow on my face, I was present in all my actions and thoughts and I felt I received all it accomplishes me. I've been conscious about all the changes happened to me, my interior was so clear, all my feelings, my thoughts, my desires. I took all that was good from this experience and lived as much intense as I could, but didn't close my eyes for the real things happening around. I embraced one by one hours of learning and discovering, free spirit, good energy, sleepless hours, keeping my soul and my mind clean, foolish games, love, appreciation, bad and good dreams, (un)fulfilled changes, traveling, empathy, friendship, signs, peaceful anger and, most of all, being surrounded by PEOPLE. But I could also see what went wrong: we there, spending some European money and doing almost nothing to deserve them, all the organizing mistakes and the nebulosity in which we were sometimes because the next step wasn't clear, all the money that weren't properly used for the project, but beautiful gilded for the believers.

I had a (in fact, there's no word for it, but I will call it like this) “mentor” in which I failed to become alike, but a lot of me changed. I'm talking about a beautiful and strong man who made us laugh like crazy and was the link between what we were and what we wanted to be. I rediscovered and accepted myself only by speaking and listening. I learned to free myself, have a wider vision, accept the others and myself without judging. I was happy in Ruse because of the two fireflies I saw and understood that this isn't happening to everyone. I heard the seagulls at the window every morning, I felt special, I danced and laughed sincerely, I opened my heart and mind to words, music, translations, new languages, feelings, stories, caress, debates, jokes, hugs, walks, being childish, do good. I was accomplished by getting lost in what mattered to me.

I climbed my own Sugar Mountain in Ruse at the age of almost 29 and felt as mature as I could be at that moment, but leaving the child inside to play on the ground. I had Violeta Parra musician from whom I took my part of courage and strength. I had the streets of Ruse on which I could listen the guitar man, walk in peace, see the normality, damn the communist traces, many children voices to listen and a lot of golden sunset light to watch. I had the storms I sat under or enjoyed from the balcony and amazing dark clouds to turn my head on. I could see the problems on people's faces, but didn't feel them like burdens, the colored fountains and the awful looking toilet from the German high school (you know, I was wondering a lot of times if Merkel, during her visit to this place, used that toilet and why the sponsored money didn't reach that indispensable hole). I had Danube river there and I didn't watch it as a link to Romania as much as I saw it as a link to Europe, coming from far away countries with stories in its waters. I had a friend called Silvia I thought I won't like at all at the beginning. I had Lucian for sharing similar childhood and values. I had the lively Spanish guys always coming with funny initiatives, always partying and dancing. I had the girls room with Despina opening the door and the boys room with Vincent opening the door. I had my own room, but moved at some point. I had the moments of being charmed by the house in front of our building, the evenings with Kamenitza and long discussions. I had Vincent and the amazing moments we shared for our soul and mind purity.

I could see the cultural differences coming from education, habits, geographical position and history influences but also the basics that make us similar. I could see myself adapting immediately to Ruse and spending my money cleverly. I could see some of the others not handling with 360 leva because they were used with more money to spend in their countries. I didn't wash the fruits I took from trees because I did this before in my childhood and didn't die so far. And also because Ruse and surroundings seem enough clean to me. I could understand that Romanians, comparing to the others, are sad and very strict sometimes. I could see the differences between ages, but didn't feel apart of the group. I enjoyed learning Bulgarian and I still have an affinity for it.

Patriotism... I found here that all of us seem to be patriots, but is this a reality? We are all proud and we reveal all the good things about our countries, but what have we done for this? All the past generations fought for them, not us. And what about bad things that represents our people? I could see females and males behaving like still not equal in rights. I didn't like the visit to the vice mayor as it was very stiff, neither the presence of a very influential man very close to the project. I appreciated Krystian a lot for his ambitiousness and for the time he spent with us like a friend.

Oh my! If I would put together all the kind messages I received from the people I met in Ruse since coming back I would do a long letter to remember. And if I would intersect them, I would have some important common points to reveal: each one thinks of a longer EVS in the future, each one misses June, people and Ruse and passed a sad patch when returning to their daily life, each one got changed by this time loop.

Back home, I understand all differently. The roof of my home is new (really is and I thank my parents they are so wonderful), but the foundation is still the same. I changed, but my past, my friends, my “sun”, my garden, my family didn't change. They are better and stronger with me doing alike. There is nothing in the world like a hug, I am color, I believe in LOVE, things don't matter, I am connecting with nature, good energy comes from pure souls, to be kind and good is to be rich. These are the values I returned with or I have strengthened. So... thank you!

And, like I said on a message I left the last day for "Friends in Ruse": “Play like this all the time, beautiful people! Don't loose the children inside and love as much as you can! We were a total in Ruse, now we have to do the same in our lives. So dance, play, love again and then dance again! A warm hug!”

(RO) Uit doar daca natura ma face sa uit sau daca nu e important. Nu-mi sterg trecutul, chiar daca prezentul este mai important si pare mult mai real. Nu e vorba despre a fi nostalgica cat despre a fi fericita cu viitorul meu. Intr-o zi, ma voi bucura de asta mai mult decat acum.

Chiar cred ca am fost cea mai norocoasa in Ruse. De ce? Pentru ca, de la inceput pana la final, m-am simtit fericita si nimic nu mi-a umbrit privirea, pentru ca am fost prezenta in toate actiunile mele si am simtit ca am primit tot ceea ce ma implinea. Am fost constienta de toate schimbarile care mi s-au intamplat, interiorul meu a fost atat de clar, toate sentimentele, gandurile, dorintele. Am luat tot ce-a fost bun din aceasta experienta si am trait cat de intens am putut, dar nu am inchis ochii in fata lucrurilor reale din jurul meu. Am imbratisat rand pe rand ore de invatare si descoperire, un spirit liber, energie buna, ore fara somn, pastrarea sufletului si a mintii curate, jocuri prostesti, iubire, apreciere, vise urate sau frumoase, schimbari (ne)indeplinite, calatorie, empatie, prietenie, semne, furie pasnica si, mai mult decat orice, faptul ca am fost inconjurata de OAMENI. Dar am putut vedea, de asemenea, si ceea ce nu a mers bine: noi acolo, cheltuind niste bani europeni si nefacand aproape nimic pentru a-i merita, toate greselile organizatorice si nebulozitatea in care am plutit cateodata pentru ca pasul urmator nu era clar, toti banii alocati proiectului care nu au fost corect folositi, totul fiind frumos poleit pentru cei increzatori.

Am avut acolo un mentor (de fapt nu exista niciun cuvant pentru asta, dar l-am folosit  pe acesta) si am esuat in a fi ca el, dar m-am schimbat mult. Vorbesc despre un om frumos si puternic care ne-a facut pe toti sa radem ca nebunii si care a fost legatura dintre ceea ce eram si ceea ce ne doream sa fim. M-am redescoperit si m-am acceptat doar vorbind si ascultand. Am invatat sa ma eliberez, sa am o viziune mai deschisa, sa ii accept pe ceilalti si pe mine fara sa judec. Am fost fericita in Ruse pentru ca am vazut doi licurici si am inteles ca asta nu se intampla oricui. Am auzit pescarusii la fereastra in fiecare dimineata, m-am simtit speciala, am dansat si am ras sincer, mi-am deschis inima si mintea catre cuvinte, muzica, traduceri, limbi necunoscute, sentimente, povesti, mangaiere, dezbateri, glume, imbratisari, plimbari, a fi copilaroasa si a face bine. Am fost multumita pierzandu-ma in ceea ce a contat pentru mine.

Am urcat propriul "Munte de Zahar" in Ruse la varsta de (aproape) 29 de ani si m-am simtit atat de matura cat puteam fi in acel moment, dar am lasat copilul din mine sa se joace cu pamant. Am avut-o pe Violeta Parra de la care mi-am luat curajul si puterea. Am avut strazile din Ruse unde l-am putut asculta pe omul cu chitara, pe care m-am putut plimba linistita, unde am vazut normalitatea, pe care le-am renegat pentru urmele comuniste, unde am avut multe voci de copii sa ascult si destule apusuri aurii sa privesc. Am avut furtunile sub care am stat sau pe care le-am privit din balcon si nori intunecati uimitori spre care sa-mi intorc capul. Am putut vedea problemele pe fetele oamenilor, dar nu le-am simtit ca pe niste poveri, fantanile frumos colorate si toaleta aceea groaznica din liceul german (m-am intrebat de multe ori daca Merkel, in timpul vizitei in acest loc, a folosit acea toaleta si de ce fondurile alocate nu au ajuns si in aceasta gaura indispensabila). Am avut Dunarea si nu am simtit-o ca pe o legatura cu Romania intr-atat incat am simtit-o ca pe o legatura cu Europa, venind din tari indepartate cu povesti in apele sale. Am avut o prietena numita Silvia cu care nu am crezut ca am sa ma inteleg la inceput. L-am avut pe Lucian cu care am impartasit amintiri din copilarie si valori asemanatoare. I-am avut pe spaniolii plini de viata care veneau intotdeauna cu initiative amuzante, care dansau si cantau tot timpul. Am avut camera fetelor cu Despina deschizandu-mi usa si pe cea a baietilor cu Vincent facand acelasi lucru. Am avut propria-mi camera, din care m-am mutat la un moment dat. Am avut momentele in care am fost fermecata de casa din fata cladirii in care ne aflam, serile cu Kamenitza si discutii lungi. L-am avut pe Vincent si momentele frumoase pe care le-am impartasit pentru puritatea sufletului si a mintii.

Am putut vedea diferentele culturale venind din educatie, obiceiuri, influente ale pozitiei geografice sau istoriei, dar am putut vedea si ca lucrurile de baza ne fac asemanatori. Am vazut ca m-am adaptat repede in Ruse si ca mi-am cheltuit banii cumpatat. Am vazut cum unii voluntari nu s-au descurcat doar cu 360 leva pentru ca erau obisnuiti cu mai multi bani in tarile lor. Nu am spalat fructele pe care le-am luat din pomi pentru ca am mai facut asta in copilarie si nu am murit pana acum. In plus, Ruse si imprejurimile sunt destul de curate in opinia mea. Am putut intelege ca romanii, comparandu-i cu ceilalti, sunt destul de tristi si stricti uneori. Am putut vedea diferenta de varsta, dar nu m-am simtit in afara grupului. Mi-a placut sa invat bulgara si inca am o afinitate pentru ea.

Patriotismul... am realizat aici ca toti parem patrioti, dar este asta o realitate? Suntem cu totii mandri si scoatem la iveala lucrurile bune despre tarile noastre, dar ce am facut noi pentru asta? Generatiile anterioare s-au luptat pentru asta, nu noi. Si cum ramane cu lucrurile rele care reprezinta popoarele noastre? Am putut vedea femei si barbati comportandu-se ca si cand nu ar fi egali in drepturi. Nu mi-a placut vizita la vice primar deoarece a fost prea scrobita, nici prezenta unui domn foarte influent care a fost apropiat proiectului. L-am apreciat pe Krystian (unul dintre organizatori) pentru ambitia sa si pentru timpul pe care l-a petrecut cu noi ca un prieten.

Ohh, si daca as pune impreuna toate mesajele calde pe care le-am primit de cand m-am intors, de la oamenii pe care i-am cunoscut in Ruse, as compune o scrisoare lunga demna de a ramane in amintire. Si daca le-as intersecta, as avea cateva puncte comune importante de dezvaluit: fiecare se gandeste la un program EVS pe termen lung in viitor, tuturor le e dor de iunie, de oamenii intalniti, de Ruse, cu totii au trecut printr-o perioada trista cand s-au intors, toti s-au schimbat in timpul acestei bucle de timp.

Intorcandu-ma acasa, am inteles totul diferit. Acoperisul casei mele e nou (chiar e si le multumesc parintilor mei pentru cat de minunati sunt), dar fundatia e inca aceeasi. M-am schimbat, dar trecutul, prietenii, "soarele" meu, gradina mea, familia sunt la fel. Mai puternici si mai buni, cu mine alaturi facand la fel. Nu e nimic in lume ca o imbratisare, sunt culoare, cred in IUBIRE, lucrurile nu conteaza, sunt legata de natura, energia buna vine din partea sufletelor curate, sa fii bland si bun inseamna sa fii bogat. Acestea sunt valorile cu care m-am intors sau pe care mi le-am intarit. Asa ca... multumesc!

Si, cum am spus intr-un mesaj pe care l-am lasat "prietenilor din Ruse" in ultima zi: "Jucati-va asa tot timpul, oameni frumosi! Nu pierdeti copiii interiori si iubiti cat de mult puteti! Am fost un tot in Ruse, acum trebuie sa facem la fel in propriile noastre vieti. Asa ca dansati, jucati-va, iubiti din nou si apoi dansati din nou! O calda imbratisare!"

Volunteer in Ruse (9)


25th was the day of waiting... and waiting... and waiting. We were so revived when the rooms filled again with the volunteers stories, happiness and laughs. So many beautiful memories taken by them from Bucharest made me reconsider my second home city. Indeed, Bucharest is a 24 hours per day living city, full of energy, art, history and facts. The returning of Romanian boys from Varna also linked us so subtle we wouldn't expect. Being alone without sharing... this is not our way of living.

26th morning was long and lazy, but we decided to take a walk after all. Train and Transport Museum ticket was too expensive for our empty pockets, so staring again at the houses and reading Sherlock Holmes at BH Library was the best I could choose. Spanish guys knocked in the afternoon for Sangria money collection. So... why not spending my last 2 leva for the sake of the ritual? In the evening we went into the park, carrying a bucket of the already prepared magical liquid, juice and wine bottles and one bag of fruits for more to come. This time Sangria tasted sad, rain started at some point, we weren't that funny anymore so we run all wet and cold inside. I chose my bed instead continuing the night with the others, though I really enjoyed that run with the raindrops angrily coming to us.






27th Me and Silvia walked into the ordinary. And between the common of grey blocks and big boulevards, we found house number 1 behind purple flowers. Alone, little, but surviving. "Lost in art" message, a beautiful painter statue, hearts on a dusty big window, a market and many others encountered our way. In the evening, we watched a comedy, I mean the other Romanians did it because I fell asleep like in my good times, started gently snoring at some point, waking up, seeing a scene and laughing like I was watching the entire movie and FIN. I discovered Magdalena Petrovich cello player that night as I couldn't sleep anymore and made a wish for my birthday. I will blow my wish for a happy end.





28th. I had a bad dream again - someone was holding my hands tied. I could see the face shapes looking very familiar, but couldn't find his mouth, ears and eyes while trying to escape.

That day we went to Orlova Chuka cave hidden in a green harmonious valley. We passed sunflower fields of gold. Clouds were like cotton from America. The wind was in my hair. I think a woman can not feel more beautiful than when she meet the wind with her tress. It's about the touch, the caress, the soft play with her skin, the thoughts she frees with all her spirit. How good it is to spend all your money for happy moments like this! I was thinking of Erik who was in a real mud at Electric Castle festival at that moment. How lucky he is sometimes! Smiling. Also sent some thoughts somewhere over lands and rivers for my sisters and other strollers.
Ohh... Countryside with cows and their specific smell, dark clouds, yellow with brown wheat stripped fields, a plane in the air, our way between green, sad Nippon music, all of them fulfilled that moment. We climbed again a cherry tree, till up this time, but the cherries weren't good anymore. Was I doing this before? The ticket man let me enter paying the price of a student, the cave was amazing, but the tour was very short and we couldn't understand a thing from the guide speech. But I understood all sinuous rocks told me, the stories of centuries before. I put my hand on the cold waved roof and made a bridge to the ground. I became a circuit. On the way back, a dark sky covered the yellow of fields and a strong rain begun. Big, big raindrops were hitting the car and all of a sudden rain stopped and the sky opened. Unexpected, we had a last visit to Basarbovski. The place was full of memories. I said good bye and couldn't do more.




 

29th Dancing on Violeta Parra music. No one around, though around. Nothing else existing, just the dance, the music, the souls, present time and sad happiness. Rumour Said Fire – The balcony and The Temper Trap – Sweet Disposition followed from my fingers to the others, maybe not by accident.

We've been waiting for this evening to come. In the same time, we wanted to suspend this moment of waiting... and waiting... and waiting. Morning was insignificant. All looking for evening, for something, for someone, all asking when this boy will come back and when the beginning of the end will start. And I could predict the moment this boy will walk the stairs and hug us everyone with his new sunglasses and heavy suitcases.

All the photos I took in that evening were unclear. Of course. All of me was laughing and dancing on 29th 7 to 9 p.m.. Youth pass, gossips, writing on t-shirts, hugging, music, laughing, detaching in my own world, last frugal dinner in the Youth Centre, heart shaped balloons, descriptions, feelings, intensity, cake, a picture of us on the cake, stripped t-shirt, full of beautiful thoughts t-shirts, full of emotions souls, red cheeks, “take a sit here!”, “you have to write me something!”,...

“Turn off the light!”











Spanish guys left and I shouted good bye from the balcony. I don't know if they heard me, but no one woke me up. At 2 o'clock I was talking with the boys in the balcony and the leaving moment of Greek and Polish people came just like that. Forever words, hugging, kisses and taxi left. 

Good-bye, beautiful!  


We were only Romanians left in the building and Krystian who was there for all of us. We stand awake until 4 in the morning, almost catching the sunrise. Talking, debating, discussing, concluding, getting depressed, hoping, wishing for the future, trying to take decisions. We spent that time together and if a long way wouldn't wait for us, we would've stayed like that until the end. Returning to the rooms that morning when only me and Silvia left, I saw this amazing thing: on our grey block of flats, from balcony no. 24, a heart shaped red balloon was saying "love and peace, passangers!" Sergiu, you did my day and my year by hanging this balloon on our room balcony, so my many thanks for this.


 
So, here we are back in the train, me and Silvia, travelling the other way. Us and two Kamentiza. Together with our sincerity, some other travellers. Back in that dirty train over Danube river, leaving behind a part of our history. A lump in my throat. Though peaceful.



THE END. КРАЙ. EL FINAL. ΤΟ ΤΈΛΟΣ. HET EINDE. SFÂRȘIT...

 

vineri, 10 iulie 2015

Volunteer in Ruse (8)


The day of the carnival started with an unexpected Basarbovski pass by where we've been encountered with bread and natural honey to celebrate a new baptized child. The cold and sweet water from the fountain accomplished all the ritual and we revived ourselves. Up again, I took a big hug from my Andreea, some crumbly stones from the chalk walls and all the release I could. Healing, but not praying. On the way back we had a city view from the television tower hill. I let myself blown by wind while looking for the beauty of it. One short back laying while music was playing and we turned back to prepare ourselves for the parade.

We were all beautiful and happy at the carnival. Alladin, the Prophet, The Red Riding Hood, Robin, the witch, the pirate, the cowboy, Polish girls, Roman woman, Scottish girl and many others were dancing unleashed on the streets. Colored balloons, fanfare music, laughing, singing, running, dancing again and that was it: a colored and happy storm in a glass of water. I was already feeling the bitterness of the end, but I tried to keep it far away. We all met near the Liberty Square at the sunset and we continued our lasciviousness, dances, taking photos, madness, dizziness and desires. I left all of this at one point, but my absence got noticed. 




 





 


 




Entering the scene a drunk mad man keep bringing out the truth inside. A drunk mad man only in his underpants, eating fries and shouting about all that he felt in that angry moment. A drunk mad man transformed into a vulnerable one, wanted to be caressed. A drunk mad man telling a truth he won't remember, felling asleep like any.

24th... finally discovering Ruse in all its hidden corners. Just met Romanian Masca Theater here after I first recognized some photos of them taken by someone I know. I went to one of the actors looking like a sad clown, smoking a cigar deep in his thoughts to ask when the show will begin. He subtle covered his surprise. At 7 p.m. the living statues, at 9 p.m. Baroque Bizarres he said. Beautiful man! I was far in my mind while watching their street representation in the evening. The same when we went to have a cocktail at Aleksandar Batenberg Square. My Sex on the beach was very bad. All my memories from the previous weeks coming over and over were the best. How strange the ways you follow end in the same point sometimes! I left that terrace with stolen Coca Cola table message, Bulgarian colors straws and yellow flower. Hmm! The sunset was orange on 24th, the harmonica gentle touched my ears. I met the man with the guitar again. The same Nothing Else Matters. I respect him a lot and I have the feeling I know him from somewhere else. He seems so shy and powerful. Big lungs he has. Words are flying around me, but I am in my own world.


That morning I started with a good bye hug for Vincent, some gymnastic and hardly cleaning my apartment. Then escaped the streets. I think now I know all the shoe stores from this city, even the entire amount of stone jeweleries from a just found shop. I am mostly the opposite of a museum addicted, but I enjoyed the time spent in Eco-Museum and Aquarium. I can not tell why because all was dead inside from animals to objects, excepting fish, a snake, some turtles and us. Maybe because I found vinyls, radios, music instruments, photo cameras, glass bottles, sewing machines, cassette recorders, ships, TVs, old all of them. Or maybe because the mammoth smelt awful or because of the conserved bats and worms that were disgusting.

New streets, new old buildings, sun and heat, half of a Kamenitza and a not so pleasant coconut cake, sitting on a bench and watching Ruse lifestyle. Both of us went dizzy, but got encouraged. Talking about music, influential people in our lives, ex boyfriends, books, who we were before Ruse.


Wind of change was on radio in the SH we found a crazy jacket for none of us. Passenger into my room, passenger into my life, passenger into the other lives. Passenger into my favorite place here - BH Library (un)coffee place. Writing, listening, imagining, story telling, dreaming, watching, hugging, sleeping, relaxing, learning, all happened here. Wednesday 24th I was browsing Vincent van Gogh and Monet paintings albums, some Bulgarian historical battles cards, Klimt also. Fugitive report of last days.


23rd was about waking up for a 3 or more hours coffee break in front of our building. Sun bath, still wet grass, future books, Fornetti, University, empty hurting feet, still discovering the beautiful, recognizing the lady from the yesterday second shop. And about exercising swimming at Nord Pool or me turning into purple from the shirt I sat on. In the evening, I went out with Romanian girls for cradling, drinking bad wine and eating delicious pancakes with ice cream. Someone was waiting for us back home, so we passed by. I saw on a bench that lady I met in the park we cleaned two weeks ago. The same power in her look made me feel the desire to know her better.


22nd started with a walk on the Danube River shore. As we were only girls, I could swear that the man turning his head over and over was hunting for us. Nothing happened but a few unanswered calls. All the sand statues were damaged, but still looked great. We met a Bulgarian old man knowing some Romanian, which we found on the streets with tiny and doubtful houses. I am very enchanted by this dusty Ruse, with all his peeling walls. New York second hand turned me back to the colors I lost home, in my closet. Thank God I met my colors again because I brought here the simplest clothes I have (unspeakable me), the opposite of the colored I am in my daily life. You know, I am trying to change myself too much not to be judged by the others. Cruel mistake. Inside, I discovered such a beautiful lady with white hair, wearing a big white hat and trying on a lot of pink clothes. My fries from the lunch were... well... bad again, but I was already lost in my happiness. Back home I cooked something and I received the best I could: Vince and Silvia asked for the second plate. In the evening, we went again to Danube river. The light was drawing auras all around. The grass was flooded by golden last rays. A man sat near his bike in this magnificent sunset, reading a book. He was amazingly beautiful. We ran down the hill like children and I felt that happy in that moment that I started talking with Nature. Or God. Or Love. After this I rapidly ran empty inside and gone away from the others, from their jokes and presence. Back in the flat, we had a fight for ideas which made me feel so alive. And I heard from my room that nervous glass kicking!

21st was the rainiest day here. I spent my morning in the balcony with the boys. Talking, talking, talking. I didn't want all of this to end, but then two of them left. I felt so alone that day! We cooked some pasta and ate after, then watched videos, debating art and lost life, listening to music with translations, sharing culture. Outside it was still raining. Back in the girls room felt alone again, though we were a few doing whatever it takes to make it better. Nothing was in the right place from my point of view. When the evening came, we watched a movie and after had the best night walk. What a night with orange clouds, sexy black pants, telling secrets and listening to some fantastic great stories from the deep of a creative one. The park was silent and fresh, wet and mysterious, dark and lightened in the same time.