Tag Archives: Romania

Romania, bine te-am gasit?

20181004_165709.jpgAcum cateva zile vorbeam cu o prietena stabilita in Olanda despre ce a insemnat pentru mine intoarcerea in Romania.
Dorul ei de casa o impinge sa viseze la ideea reintoarcerii. Si m-a gasit pe mine sa ma intrebe cum m-am acomodat.

Cum nu aveam timp sa stau mult de vorba cu ea la momentul respectiv si de teama ca nu prea ne sincronizam, i-am promis ca imediat cum gasesc timp, o sa scriu pe blog de treaba asta fiindca subiectul e destul de actualitate incat merita un post pe blog.

Nu stiam cum sa incep, m-am tot gandit astazi de ce ma lovesc cel mai tare de cand m-am intors, dar stiti cum e, inspiratia te pocneste cand vrea ea, nu cand ai tu chef.

Ei, si uite asa, cum am ajuns eu cu fii-mea la cursurile ei de actorie, m-a lovit!

Era 16h54. Cursurile incep la 17h00 fix, deci se intelege ca trebuie sa ajungi cu 10 minute mai devreme. Sau poate sunt eu obsedata de punctualitate (noi am ajuns la 16h35 😂).

Acuma, profesoara face niste impartiri pe grupe pentru o mai buna desfasurare a cursului si hop apar gafaind doi parinti recalcitranti…”stiti ce ora este??(pe un ton foarte certaret) Cursurile incep la 17h00. De ce faceti treaba asta acuma? Spuneti-ne sa ajungem la fara 10 si venim la fara 10″. Bineinteles, altii au sarit cu gura ca se consuma dn timpul copiiilor, si uite asa, o ditamai scena… IN FATA COPIIILOR!
Evident, o discutie inutila… O sa ma intrebati..care e ideea? De ce va povestesc asta?

Ideea e ca oamenii astia aveau o rautate in ochi si in glas, isi revarsau probabil nervii de peste zi, de la serviciu, sau de acasa. Au cautat efectiv o cearta numai sa isi detensioneze ei presiunea acumulata. Si asta e doar un exemplu.
Din pacate, un exemplu din multe altele pe care le intalnesc in Romania de cand am venit.

Oamenii sunt suparati, plictisiti, nervosi. Mecanismul lor de aparare devine rautatea. Cea mai mare diferenta pe care o gasesc intre romani si francezi este maniera de a trata viata. Relaxarea este privita ca un privilegiu rezervat doar celor care isi permit financiar. Pe cand francezul se va bucura de viata si cu 5 euro in buzunar. Va asigur ca 5 euro ii ajung sa ia o branza, o bagheta si o sticla de vin. Da, din alea mai ieftine… dar nu conteaza. Conteaza unde sau cu cine le va imparti.
Si, da, e important sa ramai relaxat. E important sa stii sa te detensionezi, altfel rautatea asta se cronicizeaza. Serviciul devine doar un loc de…”timpul trece, leafa merge” .

“De ce sa imi dau osteneala? Tot banii aia ii iau”.

Aud din ce in ce mai des replica asta si imi zgarie urechile! Sa fie doar entuziasmul meu de inceput? Ma indoiesc… si cand lucram in boulangerie (butic cu mancare) la Paris, si nu, nu-mi placea in mod deosebit, tot incercam sa fac treburi care poate nu erau in atributiile mele si nu eram platita pt ele, dar le faceam pentru “binele universal”. Daca puteam sa fac ceva sa ajut, o faceam. Trageam toti la aceeasi caruta. Daca mergea bine, toti din caruta eram bine. Poate castigul imediat nu era mereu evident, dar pe termen lung m-am ales mereu cu bonusuri, atat materiale cat si imateriale. Au trecut mai bine de 3 ani de cand am renuntat si oamenii aia inca ma pomenesc de bine.

Din pacate, si in viata mea profesionala pe care incerc sa mi-o cladesc acum in Romania, intalnesc la fiecare pas oameni lipsiti de chef, lipsiti de idealuri, uneori lipsiti de etica si bun simt, pentru care meseria asta de… muzicant (pentru ca nu toti cantaciosii pot fi numiti artisti), a devenit doar o sursa de venit si nimic mai mult. Zeflemisti, rai, mistocari, increzuti si snobi, surse nesecate de energii negative pe care incerc sa le combat cu mult calm si diplomatie, fiindca eu sunt o doamna, ce plm. 😂

Da, de asta ma lovesc in Romania. Visele mele sunt un foc ce arde in interiorul meu pe care ei incearca sa-l opreasca cu furtunul de rautate. Dar n-au ei atata rau cat foc am eu in mine…😊

Dar nu, nu regret nicio clipa ca m-am intors. Dimpotriva, pana acuma cel putin, consider ca a fost cea mai buna decizie. Iar sentimentul asta de apartenenta la trib, in sanul familiei si cu prietenii in jur, e nepretuit.

Da, mi-e dor de Paris, mi-e dor de vibratia aia de libertate pe care mi-o dadea acest oras-izvor de inspiratie, dar stiu ca Romania are mult de oferit. Iar eu tot cred ca suntem o natie cu mot in frunte. Romania e doar obosita, e suparata…

De asta mi-am ales meseria asta. De asta vreau sa cant (si sa scriu), sa va descretesc fruntile. Pentru ca vreau sa alin un dor, o suparare, sau sa incununez o sarbatoare. Si de asta am ales calea mai putin usoara in care ma lupt cu morile de vant sa raman autentica in aceasta tendinta care pune stapanire pe societate de a fi intr-un fel sau altul.

Foarte mult timp am incercat sa fiu altceva decat ceea ce sunt. Pana n-am inceput sa ma accept asa cum sunt, pana nu mi-am asumat cine sunt, nu am fost fericita. Iar procesul e inca in desfasurare… de fapt, cred ca aceasta cruciada nu se opreste niciodata…

Ce-mi doresc? Ei, eu traiesc intr-o viziune utopica uneori, unde toti ne iubim, si toti ne ajutam unii pe altii, dar realitatea ma da cu curu’ de pamant destul de rau, asa ca ma trezesc repede…
Dar ceva tot pot sa fac…pot sa incerc sa va inspir la lucruri bune, sa va dau curaj sa va iubiti pe voi insiva si sa va acceptati, sa incercati sa va urmati visurile, sa intelegeti ca viata se poate sfarsi in cateva secunde si tot ceea ce conteaza e cata energie pozitiva lasi in urma ta, pot sa va scriu despre trairile mele si uneori poate sa va regasiti si sa vedeti ca totusi exista mereu o solutie, sau o scurtatura😂.

Si nu, nu este un discurs motivational, inramat cu norisori roz si unicorni multicolori, mie mi se pare chiar trist tot ce se intampla.

Desi mi-ar placea sa am timp sa scriu ore intregi…back to life, back to reality (in capul meu, versul se canta:))) ), fii-mea iese in 10 minute de la curs, iar eu redevin cu picioarele pe Pamant!

Back to you, life!

P.S. Cum foarte multi ( chiar foarte multi dintre cei care ma urmaresc) m-au rugat, promit ca urmatorul post e despre Vocea Romaniei! ✌

 

Photo credit: eu

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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