Tag Archives: Paris

Romanitza 3.0

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Mi-a fost foarte greu sa cresc intr-o societate unde niciodata nu m-am incadrat. Mereu am fost aia “mai plinuta”. Mai plinuta decat cine?

Imi aduc aminte, in urma cu 7 ani aproape, am participat la un casting mega important. Am trecut toate etapale, dupa care mi s-a spus ca trebuie sa slabesc 15-20 de kg si batem palma. 20 kg in 2 luni. Abia nascusem de 6-7 luni, si inca nu revenisem la formele initiale. Am luptat cu mine 2 luni ca la armata si am slabit 17 kg. Disperarea din mine pentru a obtine acel job m-a facut sa apelez inclusiv la niste pastile nenorocite care iti taiau apetitul.

Am ajuns skinny la ultimul pas din cadrul castingului…si ghici ce? Tot n-am luat. Pentru ca in loc sa ma concentrez pe ceea ce trebuia sa fac ca sa trec probele, m-am axat doar sa slabesc. Momentul acela a reprezentat primul wake-up call ca imaginea nu este totul si ceea ce stii sa faci si sa stii cum s-o faci e mult mai important. Mi-au mai trebuit inca ceva ani ca sa inteleg ca nu o silueta trasa prin inel imi va aduce multumirea de sine si satisfactia profesionala.

Parisul si cei peste 5 ani petrecuti in Orasul Luminilor, mi-au luminat cu adevarat mintile si am inceput sa ma concetrez pe ceea ce voiam sa fac cu adevarat. Faptul ca mi-am luat licenta in Teatru la Paris a constituit o mare piatra de temelia in constructia increderii de sine. Cand am lansat blogul prima data, nu ma impiedicau cateva kg in plus sa scriu. Iar cand am inceput sa cant la Paris cu prima mea trupa de rock, nu a contat nicio secunda ca purtam 44 la blugi! Da, a contat ca oboseam si aveam nevoie de o forma fizica mai buna. Si atunci m-am hotarat ca trebuie sa fiu bine si energica, necontand ce arata cantaraul.
Intr-adevar, am slabit cateva kg ca sa pot sustine un concert de 2h45!!! Da, live 2h45! Pentru asta ai nevoie de forma fizica. Sa sari ca nebunu’, sa canti, sa dansezi si sa dai din cap!

Apoi a inceput minunata aventura in inima comunitatii romanesti de la Paris. De peste doi ani, ma hranesc cu acest vibe pozitiv pe care l-am simtit prin toti porii mei, saptamana de saptamana. Ambianta pe care am reusit toti sa o cream in cadrul evenimentelor noastre a fost mereu superioara superficialitatii cu care priveam lucrurile inainte. De ce? Pentru ca zi de zi ma concentram sa invat, sa exersez, sa-mi pun creativitatea la bataie pentru noi programe, noi show-uri. M-am axat pe ce fac, nu pe cate kg am! Si am reusit pentru prima data sa fac din asta o meserie, un mod de a-mi castiga existenta!

Da, conteaza sa fii sanatos, sa poti sa-ti atingi scopurile, sa fii rezistent, dar fara sa te compari cu altii. Frumusetea noastra consta in faptul ca suntem diferiti! Si cand ajungi sa accepti cine esti si ceea ce esti, cand esti recunoscator pentru ceea ce ai si iti productivizezi la maxim potentialul, mizand pe ceea ce faci, si s-o faci bine, atunci reusesti cu adevarat sa fii implinit!

Fii original. Indrazneste sa fii diferit. Ai curajul sa fii TU!

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8 Martie

#8martie #ziua #internationala #a #femeii

In ajun de 8 martie si iarasi cu telefonul spart, nu pot sa nu observ cat de superficiala devin cateodata. Si desi ma lupt enorm sa imi pastrez autenticitatea si principiile sanatoase cu care am fost crescuta si educata…i’m only human. Normal ca uneori cad prada ispitelor de zi cu zi.
Cad prada consumerismului, ma incatusez uneori cu frustrari, ma compar involuntar cu unele standarde (imaginare) pe care media le impune.
Mi-aduc aminte de anul 2005. Nu aveam nici 18 ani impliniti si am convins-o pe mama sa ma lase sa ma mut la Bucuresti, singura… eram in clasa a 11-a. Eram pe cale sa semnez un contract cu o casa de productie. Foarte entuziasmati de vocea mea, de creatiile mele.
Am facut pasul imediat. Avand o “istorie curata” in fata mamei si fiind mai mult decat independenta de la o varsta la care altele se jucau inca cu papusile, intr-o luna am fost mutata cu catel si purcel la Bucuresti. Gazda in buricul targului langa Cercul Militar, admisa la liceul Spiru Haret (mega in voga la vremea aia), ce sa mai …”libertate, frate…poate facultate”.
Si hop, vine ziua semnarii contractului cu “the big boss”, care nu ma intalnise inca personal…si cu…un struto-camila de antrenor/nutritionist. Si ce sa vezi… big boss se sfatuieste cu struto-camila ala de parca era mai ceva ca nesuferitul ala de la Britain’s got talent.
Si dupa cum se vorbira si sfatuira… au ajuns ei la concluzia ca trebuie, citez “sa foram (as in drill) in suncile astea inainte sa incepem sa cantam!” Hai sa moara ma-ta, zau???
Asta in ideea in care cantaream cu vreo 10 kg mai PUTIN ca acuma, dar in 2005 daca nu erai piele si os, eventual bulimica, anorexica, erai grasa!
La 17 ani cand ti se spune asta… dezvolti multe complexe si frustrari. In cazul meu, s-au dezvoltat inconstient, caci in plan constient sunt mult prea nesimtita 🙂))
Acuma nu stiu daca a fost coincidenta sau nu, dar studiourile lor au luat foc dupa vreo cateva saptamani si nu aveau nici asigurare. Jur ca n-am niciun amestec:))))) voodoo n-am facut!
Am ramas cu muzica la nivel amator. Au urmat ani plini de alte si alte aventuri, de urcusuri si coborasuri atat spiritual cat si pe cantar 🙂) am avut oscilatii si de peste 20 kg (si nu in timpul sarcinii:))
In toti anii care au urmat m-am luptat zi de zi cu mine. De la ambitie la resemmare, de la acceptare la provocare, am trecut prin toate, incercand sa gasesc un echilibru intre toti factorii care imi definesc viata.
Fiecare an a adus cu el cate-o caramida in plus la bagajul meu emotional.
Dar am avut noroc de o educatie foarte sanatoasa in copilarie. Am avut ca model o femeie puternica. Care o bate la cur oricand pe Xena- la propriu. O femeie nebuna de legat care a intors lumea pe dos de fiecare data cand a crezut ca trebuie s-o scuture nitel. Mamaie. THE Mamaie! Si pe ea durut-o fix in flocu’ drept cat a cantarit. Ce-i adevarat, a dat-o-n diabet dupa 50 ani… dar il tine sub control, e ok. A slabit, stie sa manance echilibrat, are schema facuta de mine pe frigider, isi ajusteaza singura dozele de insulina… real bad @ass 🙂
Si m-a crescut cu ideea asta ca, noi, femeile, facem lumea sa se invarteasca. Ea m-a “empowered” o viata 🙂 tot ce isi pune femeia aia in cap, reuseste, nenica! Secretul ei? Munca multa si rabdare! Agoniseala! De toate felurile posibile! Cateodata ea o duce la extreme. Noroc ca l-am pe tataie contrabalans, de la care am invatat sa ma bucur de micile placeri ale vietii! De o friptura suculenta, de un vin bun, de o siesta bine meritata.
Toate lucrurile astea au inceput sa iasa la iveala undeva dupa varsta de 25 de ani…nah…am avut si eu odrasla la randul meu, plus ca…am ajuns intr-o alta lume, o alta mentalitate. Aici in Franta nu prea a contat cum arat ci ceea ce stiu sa fac. La Paris mi-am regasit vocea, la propriu si la figurat, si dupa multa munca si agoniseala, si rabdare, am ajuns in 2015, 10 ani mai tarziu si 10 kg in plus, sa fac din muzica o meserie full time!
Cum? Pai, am incetat sa ma uit in oglinda si sa-mi vad “defectele”. Ma reeduc sa-mi admir atuurile. Si fiecare slabiciune sa mi-o transform intr-un as din maneca. Am mai spus-o…daca viata iti da doar lamai, nu fa doar limonada, mai baga si un limoncello, o tarta cu lamaie, un sapun, o apa de colonie, tot ce poti!
Da, ma mai loveste cate-un greu al vietii val gen…telefon furat, telefon spart, si iar telefon spart. Si ma apuca si pe mine ofticile pt lucrurile materiale sau lucrurile de suprafata.
Dar apoi ma trezesc repede…si imi dau seama ca asta inseamna doar ca te ia oleaca valul, in niciun caz nu te loveste in fata!
Eventual, plutesti nitel in deriva, dar cu siguranta nu te ineci!
Care e luxul zilelor noastre? Ei, asta e alta poveste intr-o alta zi😘
Femeie, ramai pe baricade!


I’m ALIVE!

Yes, I am alive!

Indeed, I am alive, maybe for the first time in life I really feel alive! It’s been a looong time since I’ve felt the need to write down my thoughts, but as I had stated in the first place, writing was my auto- therapy. Let’s say I haven’t felt the need for therapy for the past few months… like…since …last September, I think…

Maybe you wonder why! I’ll tell but not right away because so many thing have happened in my life that I don’t even know how to start. Remember my summertime? Well, I think you do, since it’s been my best viewed post 🙂 That gave me a lot of confidence, my great summertime and all the changes that came after that.

Ok, I’m not gonna push your patience: I became a singer! A payed one! A real one! Like in….people pay me to sing for them!! With real money, not monopoly money nor invisible money! People actually pay ME to sing for them! Hope the IRS doesn’t read this :)))))) ( dear IRS, I dream a lot, don’t take me serious) :))))

It all started with a desire! MY DESIRE! the desire to do what I want, to be in front of a public, expressing myself through music! So, after a marathon of WEEDS and Modern Family I started to take things very seriously! I began forming a REPERTOIRE, mostly of Romanian Folklore and Traditional music, two genres I had never thought to perform! But this was my rope, remember the rope from my previous posts? If not, get your ass reading! So I knew I could have a chance with traditional music because our Romanian Community here in France is enlarging every day, and of course we get married here, we baptize our children here, we celebrate our anniversaries here, and it’s our custom to have live singers for our celebrations and I may say that there is quite a demand. Practically I knocked at some doors… literally… where I knew they collaborate with singers.. After some unopened doors from the French side, I began knocking at Romanian doors… and guess what… it opened… and this is how everything began… with one open door at a Romanian restaurant… and my intuition told me to knock at the best door, so I went straight to THE top Romanian restaurant in Paris… and apparently I was exactly what they needed 🙂 MAKTUB! Right person in the right place at the right moment! When it’s written to happen, it will happen!

You will never guess what happened. The more I began discovering my traditional Romanian music, the more I fell in love with this genre of music, a music that I had never had the patience to understand, the capacity of penetrating beneath its simple yet powerful lyrics. I knew I have reached that age of understanding life in a different manner. Our folklore speaks about that simple and happy life! It speaks of love, of nature, of faith… of a life surrounded by family, sharing all that God has given you.

One thing led to another and private parties turned into public shows, public shows into live concerts, from restaurants to theaters and even big open air scenes like Festival of Europe where I had the honor to represent Romania last Sunday (may 22nd). Let me put it this way… I haven’t had an weekend off since the beginning of the year – my official launch was for the NYE party 🙂

I really can’t describe you my big start. It’s only the beginning and I realize I’ve climbed my rope so high that I can see a lot from above. There is a hell of a way until I will reach the top, but I will get some day! The most important thing is that I grabbed my rope…and, boy…I’m holding to it like my life would depend on it!

Yes, it’s hard, and yes, you gotta do great sacrifices…and YES, they will try to pull you down…every single day! And you might get “bullied” and you might get hit, but like my old friend Rocky Balboa said… “it doesn’t matter how hard you hit, but how hard you can get hit and still go on…” Here’s to you, Balboa!

But you learn to deal with everything, as long as you keep your faith and self confidence. Nourish yourself with the positive sides and don’t even pay attention to negativity! Close your eyes in front of the evil and it will disappear. Open your heart for all the Good to come to you and your hungry soul will receive the light. Then follow that light and share it with the rest of the world!

Create your own circle of happiness! And happiness will always come back!

TO BE CONTINUED

 

 

 

 

 


NO to racism!

One of the hot subjects of this week in France was the attack on one Romanian gypsy. Since I have heard the news and saw the terrible uncensored pictures I felt the need to write about. But I have waited to see what happens next. But guess what? The French suddenly stopped talking.

The story goes like this. Darius, 16, a gypsy (rrom) from Romania, presumed to have broken in someone’s apartment, was taken away from home by 12 angry French men with the intention to give him a lesson. Result? He was beaten and tortured and left unconscious in a supermarket stroller and official information states he’s in a deep coma in a Parisian hospital.

Why where the French so mad? Because they are sick and tired of all the shit gypsies do in France. They steal, they beg, they ruin tourist’s vacation, they camp on unauthorized land, basically, what they know best! And, as most of them come from Romania, they put all of us in bad light.

The biggest problem? Well, let’s just say, most of French people aren’t that bright to make the difference between Romanian and rroms- the modern appellation of gypsies. They are called this way only in Romania and that creates a whole lot of confusion.

Allow me to copy paste Wikipedia:

Romani people

From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia

Not to be confused with Romanians, an ethnic group and nation.

For other uses, see Romani.

 And for French, because I want them to get it right, in their own language:

Rom (ou Rrom2) est un terme qui a été adopté par l’Union romani internationale (IRU) pour désigner un ensemble de populations, ayant en commun une origine indienne3, dont les langues initiales sont originaires du nord-ouest du sous-continent indien4 et constituant des minorités connues sous de nombreux exonymes vivant entre l’Inde et l’Atlantique ainsi que sur le continent américain. Il faut noter que les médias roumains, en particulier, préfèrent l’utilisation du terme « rrom » à celui de « rom » afin d’éviter toute confusion entre les Roms et les Roumains (étant donné que roumain se dit român), deux peuples pourtant différents aussi bien historiquement que culturellement mais souvent confondus à tort en Europe occidentale notamment. Rom n’est en aucun cas le diminutif de roumain puisque les deux termes n’ont étymologiquement rien à voir, c’est simplement un endonyme signifiant « homme accompli et marié au sein de la communauté5 » en langue rromani (langue des Roms)

 Thank you Wikipedia ! If you want to read more, feel free to tap Romani people or Roms on Wikipedia!

The other day at the boutique two French asked where does my cute accent come from. I said Romania. They answered and I quote: Oh, it’s rare to see Romanians working.

What the fuck??? I was one second away to throw a glass in their eyes. Who the fuck do you think you are? Am I going crazy or is this shameless racism? Fuck, even the Ku Klux Klan try to make it the hidden way! I tried to explain them all the above about the differences but they were staring at me like two damn assholes as if I were speaking about the reincarnation of the flies.

So you can only imagine my rage and frustration. Fuck, I hate Romania of today, but I’m proud of my origins. I’m proud because is thanks to a Romanian doctor people still live with diabetes (biologist Nicolae Paulescu discovered insulin). And the examples could go further. I will tell you from time to time the stories of valuable Romanians.

So, you see my indignation when I’m being confused with a rrom. Fuck, I even had my iPhone stolen by gypsy offspring. And we all know how fucked up you are when you lose all your contacts, your photos and so on…

So, what should I do? Begin a gypsies hunt? What would happen if everyone starts to make their own law? And we’re talking about racism and we all know where a major hatred led the destiny of 6 million people who were killed during WWII. It only needs a seed to start the fire… After one public statement made by the French President which was no more than a make love, not war, nothing has been said since!

Yesterday I have read an unofficial information on facebook which states that the young boy died and they are trying to hide the information as long as possible so the spirits could calm down and everybody forgets.

So, I ask you… is this fare, is this normal? Is this what we want to teach our children?

I know, sometimes, they become unbearable, but they share the planet with us… what will we do? Throw them in a modern Awschvitz?? We already did that once… 

 

To be continued (when they release new official information)


Faith – part 2

Part 2

Well, I’m gonna be very short about our few weeks spent in Paris the first. Let’s just say we changed a couple of social hotels (my mom didn’t have the right to keep another two persons where she lived at the moment), we were the new comers in the European Union and our rights were pretty… nonexistent, so the chances to find a job were below 0.

After we spent all my mom’s and grandma’s economies, we had to go back home. Broke. In every possible way. Financially, spiritually, and so on. We had our whole lives in 2 suitcases that we moved from my husband’s mother to my grandparent’s and we finally settled in a small one room apartment in my home town. Honestly, I don’t have any fucking idea how we survived for three months. Fortunately, we raised money from all the members of our family to pay 2 months the rent and the third we left it hanged in the air when we decided to give it one more shot in Paris. This time my mom found us a 7 square meters room to live. Imagine the smallest room in the world with a mattress directly on the floor, a sink, a toilet (in the same room) and an improvised shower. Better said, we were living in bathroom which had a mattress on the floor. We tried to work on the black market with no papers and a shitty pay, but in the end, after 3 weeks we had to live again an unpaid week and go back to Romania, because there was no hope of surviving. To have a better view of the picture, let’s just say my husband had to stay awake in order to keep the rats away from me on the last night in Paris that we spent in a subway station! When I saw The pursuit of happiness, when Will Smith had to sleep with his son in the subway toilets, he had 5 stars conditions…:)

 This time I said, ok, Paris doesn’t want to adopt us! We must accept it and move on. Paris had thrown us away once again. I don’t know if I mentioned it, but I left school the first time we went away. After one year and a half of university, I dropped out for the French dream. It’s not like I was mad about my school. I was doing something just to say I was in school. When I finished high school, my hopes were to be admitted at a film school. After the first rejection at low standard school I was so disappointed and I said I will never get in a good school, so why bother? I went to a private school just to say I was attending university!

Faith has made it possible to arrive in Romania just one day before the closing of inscriptions at the school were I always dreamed to get in. it was a Thursday morning when we arrived at my grandparents and I don’t ask me why I had the impulse to go online and check the dates of inscriptions. Friday was the last day and Monday the exams began. I packed my stuff, I went to my best friend in Bucharest, I didn’t sleep for three days and I got myself prepared for the admission exams. I didn’t tell my family about my plans. This time I didn’t want to play the drama queen role if I was to fail so I kept my mouth shut until I had the results.

The first day we had the written stuff. You can’t imagine how I felt when I met all the applicants. They were talking about film as if they had a 20 years career on their back. Directors and movies and stuff I had never heard in my life before. The terms and the language they used, their way of talking made me feel so small and dumb that they almost made me think to run away and drop everything out! But… I was thinking about the inscription fee I paid and they were my very last money I had so I said to myself… this is now or never.

And of course, because my life is a soap opera, guess what? It ended with a very happy end. I got it! I cried my eyes out. You could have left me without food and water and let me live underground or at the subway, nothing was more important than the fact that I was accepted! That was the day when I got it why Paris didn’t want me! He knew I had left unfinished business back in Romania. Even though I was indoctrinated with the Maktub (this is how it was written) stuff from the Paolo Coelho novel, The Alchemist, since I was 17, this time I was proven that everything happens to a reason. I can’ describe you the tragedy that it was for me to come back not once, but two times, back in Romania, after I bragged at all of my friends that I was going to move in Paris and then come back with my tail between my legs. Yeah… no comment 🙂

My four years of college will make the subject of another story, because they were too great to give them just the supporting role in today’s story. 

Conclusion: No matter how hard you try to escape your destiny, it will always get you back on track.

 Keep your mind open at everything that happens to you. The biggest tragedy is just one episode that leads you to the next greater step! Don’t let yourself disappointed by faith. Everything, and I mean everything happens for a reason. That superior force above us… it’s not resting. Someone once told me… Don’t try to force life, just let it follow its natural course. At that point I said he is just an asshole who didn’t want to take our relationship to the next level… as in… introducing me to his friends as his official girlfriend ( I was 16 and something) :), but you know what… he was so damn right 🙂

So, after exactly 4 years of school, I finally got to live my French dream! Faith has brought me back to Paris and this time was for good! What can I say, it was worth waiting 🙂

“The secret of life, though, is to fall seven times and to get up eight times.” 
― Paulo CoelhoAlchemist


Faith

In Romania we say… a cold one and then a hot one :). Last time was F for Failure, today is another F, but for Faith! I have always said that one thing leads to another and things happen if you go with the flow. Everything happens for a reason. Even if sometimes the final purpose is not that obvious, believe me, it’s there! I’ve had quite a few events in my life that re-enforced these believes! And the examples… let’s just say I have enough stories to tell ‘till I die..! For example, the first one that comes to my mind right now, is about how we came to live in Paris. Yeah, I can’t complain, it’s fucking fabulous!!! It has worth trying three times! It was not always this fairy-tale we’re living now (I understand fairy-tale by not paying rent because we still live with my mom… I know, I have low standards 🙂 )

1ST time- December 2007

I still remember how we packed everything in one night to free our 1 room apartment, afraid that the landlord will arrive claiming his last 3 month rent! Let’s say we had no job, no hopes to get a job, my mom had left the country in august, leaving me with a small land to sell and pay a lot of debts to a lot of angry men, my soon to be husband’s parents had just had a divorce and they were in another galaxy, so we were pretty shaken up. I would lie to say that we had no one! No matter what happened, I have always had my grandparents to support me, in every possible way a person can be supported. I owe them everything I am today, even if I’m not much. I know if someday I’ll be someone it’s thanks to them and it’s because I owe them this! No one believes in me more than my grandmother does and no James Cameron could compare with the bedtime stories my grandfather would tell me every night. They gave me the wings to fly.  It’s true they never thought I would fly 1500 miles away. So, when we’ve decided to leave the country for the first time, it was the hardest decision to take. It was just a few months after their only daughter had left, so this second hit was not easy to take. I spent my last days in Romania, in my home town, Pitesti, just 50 miles from Bucharest (the capital). Only the thought to leave them alone was killing me. How I cried those day… I even cry now, as I write… this is one of my strongest demon that’s haunting me! The fact that I can’t have my grandparents here with me… they’re old, they are alone… and they get older and older… and I’m not there! It’s hard… and I know there are thousands and thousands of men and women and children out there separated by much bigger and suffering reasons like war and poverty, but we are built to think that what happens to us is the worst. I can’t help it…

So, on December 23, we have all our lives packed in two suitcases. Ready to begin a new life, ready to live the immigrant dream! Full of high hopes, in one week we’ll find a job, in one month we’ll have a house, and in one year we’ll buy a land in Romania to start building our house! Oh, I forgot to say, we were 20 years old at the moment yeah, cruel age! Still believe that pigs fly! I left with my heart broken, literally! I cried all the way to the airport, in the plane… in the bus that took us to the entrance in Paris (Porte Maillot) from the airport… I cried like a baby! That cry you cannot stop! That cry that comes from inside! That cry of pain! A really big pain that’s eating you inside! You simply feel how your heart is broken in thousands of little pieces and it seems impossible to have it ever fixed! /

…and cry some more when I arrived in Paris. When you say Paris, you think of that vintage city with fashionable people and cute cafés, berets and lovers on the keys, red wine and Camembert cheese… For those of you who know Paris, my destination was Chateau Rouge neighborhood. Travelling in the metro (the subway) I was not able to make any sightseeing so, the first time I have ever saw the light in Paris was directly in this vibrant place! No description needed. For you out there who have no idea what this means, let’s say you’d swear you’re somewhere between Maghreb and Africa, with a touch of Asia. Instead of my cute cafés or brasseries for a glass of red wine, there are salon de thé for the Arabs to have their gun powder green tea, halal kebab fast food instead of fromageries, and boutiques full of African fabrics to keep it trendy. Nothing French at all. Bye bye French dream! And I forgot to say that all this is at a 3 minute walk from the famous Montmartre 🙂 Where the fuck was I?

Any hope I had made about Paris was soon to be broken! The shock was that big that for an instant I had all forgotten about Romania and the fact I left my grandparents alone. Yes, that big the shock was! Even though it was just one day before Christmas Eve, I couldn’t have any Christmas spirit vibrations! There was nothing I imagined to be. I don’t know if it were the emotions of seeing my mother, my disappointments about the city or just the normal fear of a new challenge, the fact is that my inside was upside down! /

To be continued…

P.S. We have just found our own place!!! Waiting to move out from my mom’s!