duminică, 19 iulie 2015

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.



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