When writing about travels, one can only be subjective. A trip is a unique experience and, as I have stated before, it has to do more with the people you meet than to the places you visit.

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Spain is the story that my heart needs to explore from time to time. Long enough as to long for it. Short enough as never to forget.

Alicante (including Altea) and Valencia were two very different experiences. Because traveling has to do with the people, with the travelers, with their state of mind. Traveling is about feeling.

Alicante was warm and nice and cozy. With narrow streets in the old city and street art on almost every wall. The Mediterranean gently kisses the shore and the sandy beach was sunny. The buildings are nice and the air of the city is somewhat aristocratic. And still… Alicante was not about the city. It was all about the people. It was just the living proof that distance does not affect friendship. Alicante was about rediscovering friendship in it’s most amazing form.

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Altea was a one day dream that I lived with my entire being. Some kilometers away from Alicante, this jewel of the coast is amazing. And the trip itself is a great invitation to dive your thoughts in the sea. As you can get to Altea by tram, along the coast.

The narrow streets, full of flowers, the view over the sea from pretty much everywhere, the nice terraces and the fancy but cheap cafes, the ducks that found the only spot of unsalted water that is close to the sea and the lazy cats are all tiny bits of the puzzle that is Altea.

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Valencia. The hardest to describe. As a city, as an experience. For me, Valencia was a lesson of patience and of expectations that were somewhat misaligned with the reality. I was expecting a great city, with a wonderful city center and a great beach. It was close to that, and yet, just another proof that the traveler’s state of soul matters the most in a traveling experience.

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Valencia was too hasty and too short. Intense, yet lazy. Beautiful, yet overwhelming. Original, yet strangely familiar. 

Valencia is curves and sand, unique buildings and sun, narrow streets of the old city and tapas. Valencia is a dream that needs to be lived once. Once more, I mean.

…adormi cu cartea in brate si te trezeste un telefon drag de la celalalt capat de lume. Inchizi telefonul si cartea si te culci la loc.

…primesti pachet de la mama, cu zacusca si gem.

…te superi ca nu primesti reducere la transportul public.

…stii mai bine rafturile de la biblioteca decat pe cele din dulap.

…pornesti la magazin si te trezesti in drum spre biblioteca.

…urmaresti cu sfintenie toate ofertele, promotiile, reducerile.

…faci concurs cu colega de apartament care invata mai repede si mai mult. Cine pierde gateste.

…te hotarasti sa vezi un film si adormi. Te trezesti dimineata, filmul inca merge si tu ai apeluri pierdute pe telefon. Asa bine dormi!

…stii unde sunt toate petrecerile de Halloween din oras.

…inveti pana dimineata si apoi tragi un pui de somn inainte de cursul de la pranz, la care, evident, intarzii.

…ai card de student si il fluturi peste tot, poate-poate ai discount la ceva pe undeva: teatru, cinema, cafenea…

…astepti vacanta!!!

…ai deadline maine pentru descrierea de proiect si poimaine pentru 8 teme si desi nu esti gata nici pe departe cu ele stai si scrii pe blog.

Or mai fi? 🙂

Vorbele ei

October 30, 2013

Are sa ma ierte ca i-am publicat scrisoarea, stiu. Pentru ca asa e ea…

Povestea asta nu este spusa de mine, dar este a mea. Mi-a darut-o intr-o seara de toamna in care frunzele imi erau multe si grele.

Ii multumesc. Si o public pentru ca poate vor si altii sa gaseasca intelepciunea vorbelor ei. Sau poate mai mult pentru mine, pentru ca sa-mi amintesc ca…

“…am cunoscut candva o fata-femeie. o chema oana. ne-am cunoscut cand amadoua ne regaseam si cumva ne-am regasit impreuna. cu toate astea, era cu un pas inaintea mea: invatase sa zambeasca si sa imbratiseze ca si cum fiecare clipa poate sa dispara. de la ea am invatat unul dintre cele mai imporante lucruri: ca nimanui si niciunde in lumea asta nu poate sa-ti fie bine daca tu nu poti sa faci sa-ti fie bine cu tine. imi e dor de oana. stiu ca si tie. cred sincer ca drumul tau in danemarca are legatura cu asta. cu a te descoperi din nou tu pe tine. si chiar daca e egoist e timpul sa iei deciziile pentru tine, fara sa te gandesti la fiecare pas de impactul pe care il au faptele tale asupra altcuiva, altfel o sa ramai intr-un continuu impas. unul care o sa-ti manance nervii si-asa tociti de adaptarea la un mediu nou. aveai dreptate. ne gandim la ceilalti si apoi la noi si apoi ne disecam gandurile in 1000 de bucati, asteptand sa vina un raspuns.

oana pe care o stiam eu nu se temea de a lua viata in piept. nu se temea nici de decizii proaste. pentru ca stia ca la urma urmei ea va zambi. pentru ca a Trait. Momentul, Viata. si, cumva, inainte sa pleci, ai ingropat-o pe oana adanc in tine in incercarea de a te forma. nu e rau ca e asa. gandeste-te la Danemarca insa ca la sansa de a dezgropa. ca la posibilitatea de a gasi din nou resursele de a fi un om puternic. un om care se iubeste pe el, si tocmai pentru ca face acest lucru ii poate iubi pe cei de langa el. da-ti voie sa fii egoista. si fa, macar pentru inceput, cateva alegeri pentru tine. fara a te intreba ce ar spune altcineva. si mai ales da-ti timp. fiecare pas inainte e posibil sa fie urmat de alti zece inapoi. dar media, la final, vei inainta. dar oricum ar fi, adu-ti aminte mereu ceea ce m-ai invatat candva, acum multi ani, cand ma uram pentru ca ma scaldasem atata vreme in relatia gresita: ca fericirea si multumirea interioara sunt lucruri pe care le atingi de unul singur. si abia apoi poti fi pregatit sa le daruiesti.

propun sa declaram razboi toamnei. si sa gasim un loc in noi unde sa fie cea mai senina vara. si mai apoi, sa gasim oamenii care merita sa o imparta cu noi. si uite asa, iti scriu tie ca si cum imi scriu mie. promit ca daca simt ca imi mai scapa viata printre degete, ma recitesc.

te imbratisez, copil-femeie drag si frumos.”

Si-uite asa, daca simtim ca ne scapa viata printre degete, propun sa ne recitim…

Toamna si starile ei

October 25, 2013

As da orice sa imi regasesc cuvintele. Le-am ratacit printre taceri cu rost sau fara de rost si nu le mai pot gasi. Imi stau, streine si goale, la granita dintre vis si realitate si nu indraznesc sa le rostesc sau sa le cant sau sa le scriu. Ma regasesc in toamna asta mai degraba printre ganduri si taceri.

As da orice sa imi regasesc pacea. Am ratacit-o printre nelinisti si calcule si planuri si doruri si nu o mai pot regasi. Imi sta, straina si goala, la granita dintre vis si realitate si nu indraznesc sa o exprim.

As da orice sa imi regasesc prietenia. Am ratacit-o printre oameni straini si reci, printre suflete singuratece si nu o mai pot regasi. Prietenia rezista oricarei distante, intocmai ca iubirea, se spune. Si, totusi, simt ca am ratacit-o printre straini si nu indraznesc sa o manifest.

As da orice sa imi regasesc echilibrul. L-am ratacit printre greutatile de zi cu zi care mi-au apasat umerii inegal. Balanta inclina uneori mai mult intr-o parte decat in cealalta, dar  cand e prea mult spre partea cu inima, imi vine sa ma ascund si sa raman ascunsa pana imi gasesc echilibrul. Nu am plecat, doar m-am ascuns… Am invatat candva, demult, sa calc frunze uscate cu picioarele goale. Intre timp, ranile ma dor si nu mai vreau sa imi pastrez echilibrul pe muchii taioase de frunze. Prefer sa ma ascund si sa tac… Oricum, ma regasesc in toamna asta mai degraba printre ganduri si taceri…

Incredibil cate lucruri pierdem din teama de a nu pierde…

About doors

October 24, 2013

We do not have a problem with the doors , but with the leaving. With  the doors that are about to be closed , leaving bits of souls behind.

The doors are good. They protect us from anything that could attack from the outside. They are guarding the souls from any form of pain .

Doors are closing sometimes, leaving regret behind. Regret –  not for what it was , but for the fact that is was not as much as there could have been.

Sometimes, doors are uncomfortable and leave room for interpretation about what is happening behind them.

Sometimes you can not lock the doors and they can no longer hold any secrets.

And yet , no matter how good they are , we do not like doors . Because they are the gate for departures. And departures force us to act, to react, to act again.

Out of all passionate gestures , my favorite  one is the kiss in  the door. Because it does not mark the end, but the possibility to return.

We do not have a problem with the doors , but with the leaving. With  the doors that are about to be closed , leaving bits of souls behind. With the doors that we are afraid to close forever.

Boxes

October 15, 2013

Sometimes, when looking behind, I have the feeling that my past was all packed in boxes. Bigger boxes, smaller boxes, colorful ones  or just plain white ones. It does not matter much. I do have the feeling, though, that each box needs a place of its own, on a shelf or in a corner. And so they stand there and become dusty and old and useless. For I do not often open them… I am scared. I am afraid, for I never really truly know what’s in the box.

They were labeled at the time. And then locked in the cellar of the soul forever. But, you see, in time, handwriting washes away. And so do memories.

I sometimes just sit back and wonder how much of the content of these boxes is real and what part of it is just an illusion, a dream, a fantasy. For some of the boxes look so strange to me as if they came from a different time, from a different dimension, from a different life.

And the cellar becomes full. It is fed up with useless boxes. And the only way of deciding what boxes to leave out is to… open them. And check what’s inside. But I am scared. I am terrified. I am running away, with the lock from the soul cellar in my hand. I am running away, scared and terrified. For I know that once you started opening the first box, there is no way back… And the point of no return is always a point that I do not want to reach…

I am petrified when needing to face the past, because now, when I grew up, I realize the mistakes I have made. All the wrong decisions and the wrong steps, all the wrong paths and the doubts. But they all took me to what I am now, this very second. And I might not be in the proper box, but would surely not be here if not for the other boxes that piled up in my soul cellar.

In time, common sense selects the boxes. It leaves there just the ones that are relevant. The ones that contain the lessons, not the pains. However, from time to time new boxes are being delivered, and they smash the old ones.  And when the box is smashed, you can peak in and see the whole content.

Damn, the memory of the past can be hurtful! And painful. And cruel. But still, when locking the door of the cellar, it is my own choice to walk away with my eyes closed, blinded by the brightness of the boxes or with the eyes wide open, grateful that today I am in this exact spot where I can still choose the color of the next box. And the one after that… And the next one after…

The boxes of my past have piled up. But I am not afraid of them anymore. I know that I can choose to just take the lessons from them and lock the door back. I need to choose freedom, or else I will just end up in so, so many boxes, belonging to other people’s past…

The boxes of my past have been locked somewhere, but I am still afraid to sort them out, so I keep ignoring them. I am trying to fill in new boxes, just that I have no clue where to store them, as the soul cellar is already full of useless boxes that I am afraid to open in order to sort out…

I am not perfect!

October 15, 2013

No, I am not! I am far, far away from being perfect.

I have not hit the road in search of perfection! It would be an unnecessary trip, full of obstacles, a trip that would not lead anywhere.

I did start this road with the aim of finding my imperfect self.

I know that on this road I will lose. I will lose something from what I am and I have already lost part of what I have.

I like to hope that what’s important, however, has not been lost. It will change, it will be redefined. But not lost.

I’ve always had the tendency to control things. See? I told you I was not perfect! However, things cannot be controlled right now. Things happen and I remain just a quiet and docile spectator, I can do nothing to control them. From where I am, I can only control myself.

And on this path I’ve taken, there’s loss and gain. I will maybe lose on the one hand and on the other hand win. I could win or lose … Nobody knows. It’s a destiny lottery. Maybe just a little more daring game than any other games …

I like to think that I did not lose the essential, though and that I will not lose it. I like to think that I am closer to myself with every door that’s closed, with each new road that I am taking or that takes me away. I like to think that life shapes itself beautifully, rightfully, like a dance on a  perfectly polished dance floor.

I like to think that I would find myself and I will not care about my own imperfections when I will be found .

I like to think that the fact that I have found myself will matter more than a deformed image of a hypothetical sterile perfection .

Until then, however, some doors are still waiting for me, some roads, some trails and some bridges. Until then , I already know this one thing: I’m not perfect and I do not want to be!

I like to think that I have not ran away from something, but towards something: towards myself!

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