Unweaving the rainbow

“We are going to die, and that makes us the lucky ones. Most people are never going to die because they are never going to be born. The potential people who could have been here in my place but who will in fact never see the light of day outnumber the sand grains of Sahara. Certainly those unborn ghosts include greater poets than Keats, scientists greater than Newton. We know this because the set of possible people allowed by our DNA so massively outnumbers the set of actual people. In the teeth of these stupefying odds it is you and I, in our ordinariness, that are here. We privileged few, who won the lottery of birth against all odds, how dare we whine at our inevitable return to that prior state from which the vast majority have never stirred?”
Richard Dawkins - Unweaving the Rainbow

Autumn

My days here, since i arrived at my home-town, are amazingly sunny. No, we are no englishmen here but the topic of this extraordinary autumn is worth mentioning: it's the best beginning of autumm people remember and swimming in this hazardous ocean in october is truly extraordinary!

Two sunny activities make me feel like a virgin: learning to make cookies, bread and some pastry wonders - for the time being, faaaaar away from being wonders, anyway i've been more of a baking assistant and it's high time i change this role.
Baking implies patience, will and performing an-almost-sexual-intercourse with that magic, growing, lively being: Dough.
Mr. Dough Sánchez, Mr. Dough Wilson ... it's definitely a he and at times a punk, at times a gentleman, at times a teenage drama. I proudly show you my first cookies in the pic attached: butter stars with plums' jam. Something tells me some stars up there wink a eye on me all the time.

The second virginal task is biking around places both familiar and foreign: 20 years of absence make a difference in cities' lanscapes, in roads and intersections, in slopes, hills and sightseeings. I'm 20 years older than that girl who would weekly ride a green GAC with no gears, and, to men's astonishment, at quite an impressive level. However, sights have not changed substantially, except for the better equipments of the fellow bikers ... i was the only girl on pedals then and i'm
the only woman on pedals now. I cannot say i dislike this, somehow i feel unique, as if performing, deep-breathing, heart-beating, sweating and panting with all the female cyclists worldwide.

C o n f u s i o n e s

Este país donde vivo no deja de depararme estupendas anécdotas, y la que paso a relataros es una de las más curiosas y rinde homenaje al carácter ligero de equipaje (sí, las similitudes con mi querida Castilla son más que meras coincidencias) de las gentes rumanas.

La historieta comienza con una propuesta para dar clases de lengua extranjera a una persona (humana para más señas) en casa, a lo cual respondo afirmativamente sin tener demasiada información sobre el señor en cuestión, ya que el contacto me viene por terceras personas. Con las únicas referencias de que su nombre es A. (mantengamos el economato), que llega en coche y que su nivel de idioma no materno es cero, acuerdo un encuentro a las 12.30 horas en frente del bloque.

Siendo un vecindario tranquilo y bastante familiar, no tengo dudas de que el encuentro será fácil; ya se sabe que en estas citas a ciegas las partes implicadas se buscan atentas, expectantes y se encuentran habitualmente con gestos y básicas preguntas. Dicho y hecho, a la hora señalada me planto en la entrada, teléfono y llaves en la mano y enseguida veo a un candidato a alumno dentro de un coche mirando a su alrededor, inequívocamente buscando a alguien ... le sonrío, pero al tiempo veo a un vecino-amigo enfrente y me acerco a saludarle: medio minuto después, me giro para definitivamente presentarme a A. y veo que está marcando en su teléfono móvil. Soy persona cortés casi siempre, por ello le indico con un gesto y una amplia sonrisa: "tranquilo, acaba la llamada y después ya hablamos"

Me retiro hacia la entrada del bloque e inmediatamente recibo una llamada de teléfono de mi amiga-contacto: "A. acaba de llamarme: está enfrente del bloque esperándote ..."
"¿Cómo?? respondo "¿será idiota el tipo éste? ¡Ya he hablado con él, le estoy esperando yo!"

Vuelvo al coche y A. me recibe con una amplia sonrisa; me dirijo a él en rumanenglish, él pone cara de asombro y pide ayuda, entre sorprendido y divertido, a mi vecino-amigo con la traducción ... mi vecino-amigo charla con otro vecino, no entiende nada de lo que pasa, como es natural, y yo urjo a A. a que salga del coche, y él solícito obedece y hacemos, ahora sí, las presentaciones de rigor.

Sorprendentemente, no se presenta a sí mismo como A. ("ah, un mote", concluyo) ... subimos las escaleras comunicándonos en varias lenguas, es camionero y ha vivido en Portugal e Italia y ante mi pregunta "para qué quieres aprender inglés" responde que es muy importante para viajar por Europa y que su nivel es cero ... nos sentamos a la mesa con mis notas y apuntes y acordamos los días, horarios, tarifas y forma de pago de las clases ... todo muy normal, excepto su móvil que suena dos veces y al que responde sólo a la segunda.
Tras esta llamada, se levanta de la silla y me dice que ahora tiene que irse porque ha quedado con una persona enfrente ...
"Ah, bien, pero yo pensaba que hoy ya empezábamos con las clases", replico
"Bueno, si no te importa ya el próximo día según horario acordado, es que ahora había quedado con alguien y me está llamando" dice
"Ah, vale, nos vemos viernes a las 12 entonces ..."

A. se despide con prisas tras una tímida sonrisa ... pero la sorpresa mayúscula llega al día siguiente, cuando el supuesto A. llama a mi amiga-contacto bastante enfadado:
"Ayer estuve esperando media hora dentro del coche y la profesora no apareció ..."
Os podéis imaginar la expresión/reacción de mi amiga-contacto ... tras el intercambio de frases en shock por las dos partes, estallaron en risas: el verdadero A. había visto toda la escena en la calle, perplejo dentro de su Jeep, sin tener ni idea de quién era aquella chica que instaba al caballero a salir del coche y seguirla entre las miradas atónitas de dos vecinos ...

Transitions

Seasonal transitions seem to me the soothing, patient and caring phases of nature, who combines them with utterly dramatic demonstrations of power ... yes, She rules, She is the one in charge and we'd rather assume this secondary role in the drama of life and death.

Earth inhabitants, whether animals, plants or minerals, should enjoy four seasons in the year no matter their settlement: city, mountain, treetop, seaside, deep ocean, desert ... yes, human ladies and gentlemen: four seasons, with their correspondent transitions, transitions which we totally lack rushing in the heart of the underground or visiting the countryside as the exotic, fashionable adventure of the year ... "oh, dear, how beautiful and pictoresque are the views, let's upload them all as soon as we get to our cell and gain approval from our friends and acquantainces ... "

Anyway, i don't intend to display further fatalism now: i write to express my total amazement instead. I witness this slow transition into a gorgeous eastern european spring and i simply love it.

Women of Romania

Strength, dor, land, humour, brutal wisdom. I admire and thank you all.

Travel

A true trip often implies getting lost to find yourself on the way. Modern technologies bring us gadgets and maps to constantly spot where we are, but in the mean time we forget to look through the window, admire the landscape and listen to the guide inside. Duality, yin and yang in full battle and which side you're on is your own business.
Maybe the locals mislead you, kindly signing you the longest way – "straight ahead, straight ahead, then right, then left ..." - with smiles and laughters that confort, amuse and make you feel the tourist of tourists … in the end their sense of orientation is not based on google maps but in peasant knowledge ... And believe me: i'd never trade the shortest, safest way for a path through a mountain, the silence of a sunset, the bursts of nervous laughters, endless bumps and adrenaline. Let yourself go and enjoy the journey.

Wine, roses and candles

Learn, breath, relax, be patient, smell myself, share, give, take.
Return to childhood, to teenagehood, to a simpler life … i'm surrounded by treasures!!
Time has got a total different measure … working for others is not determining and shaping it, how the fuck have we reached this degree of global slavery!?
The days here jump and run over one another in the calendar, this is a sign of happiness – they say -. Darkness comes early making the evenings a carpet of vanishing light and growing breath ... other carpets i had previously vacuumed.
Hours are short, Ileana is right despite not having any article published in Science: days have got 16 hours … evenings are longer and dogs are heard in the distance spicing a wonderful, healing silence.
Each and every walk is a long trip aiming at some piata, target, view, purchase .. you start it and you are already longing to arrive home: wait, wait to warm up and you'll see.
Everything takes time: getting to places, shopping, payments, cooking, what a pleasant delight: take, wash, clean, peel, cut, mix, boil, stir, smash, try, enjoy, store … cause food is food, plainly, smelly, flavoured, alive and kicking!
No plastic, the minimum containers, the minimum quantity of waste. Reduce and live.

And in the middle of all these sensations, a few days ago, somebody unexpectedly brought home-made cookies and the second wine of the day without knowing it was my birthday … probably a coincidence, but one of those which make your day.

And to end with this post, let me mention how that day ended: the flow, floating energies, the night, the proximity, the skin, that flow, what is that overwhelming flow … where its source, its origin, where does it drink from. That flow comes unexpectedly and trascends us, we are driven by an energy which fills up the whole room, it's total, round, hot ... the skin runs, burns, floats, expands … first the skin and then the whole body is taken, driven by this flow, this absolute wellness of the senses … all senses working at the same level of intensity: you think, feel, sex, live, dream and awake all in one … the beings slowly slowly turn into a sea of liquids, space elongates to the trikinion, time disolves, body and mind go beyond themselves and they become some new flesh ... we have not taken any substance … or maybe we have? Thank you, iubita: with you everything is flowing.

Sibiu

Vivo en la calle Tiglari, y la T no se pronuncia como nuestra "T" ... no ... ni la "i" al final tampoco es nuestra "i" : me explico.
Esta bonita a la par que única "T" tiene cola ... es un fugaz chasquido de lengua contra dientes incisivos, e ignorarla es la primera razón para que los oriundos detecten que no, no eres rumana.
La "i" es una locura fonética, marca de plural, del genitivo ... antes casi de apreciarla ya se ha escondido, juguetona. Con ella vuelvo a dejar mi procedencia del oeste en evidencia.
Mención aparte merece la palabra "prânz": si de aquí a 20 años puedo pronunciarla, me sentiré satisfecha, como quien ha conquistado el Anapurna ... ni mi omnipresente "r" , ni "a" ni "u" ... menos mal que la comida de mediodía (prânz) la hacemos generalmente en casa y, además, el inglés sigue siendo nuestro amor lingüístico.