From Paris…with love

April 5, 2011 at 10:32 pm (Eu gandeste!, Idei/Pareri/Opinii) (, , , , , , , )

Alarma suna  si acelasi inconfundabil si tampit refren pe care imi zic in fiecare zi ca o sa il schimb, ma trezeste. Ma ridic din pat…9.30…nu, nu sunt in intarziere ci incep la 11 lucrul. Vi se pare putin? Ce ati zice despre belitul ochilor in calculator ore in sir, aproape fara pauza? Fac ce-mi place…ma pasioneaza in caz ca se intreba cineva.

Mananc in graba si imi pun cizmele in picioare, ai nevoie de o pereche trainica la Paris! Ies din casa si cand sunt in metrou imi aduc aminte ca mi-am uitat acasa mancarea, injur de 3 ori in gand si plec mai departe. In metrou sunt amortita complet, nu vad pe nimeni si nimic, nici macar vagabontul care urla de 5 minute la mine “Mademoiselle!”…scot castile din urechi si urlu la el :”mais quoi, putain!?!”… se retrage intimidat. Gena de parizianca isi face simtita prezenta din ce in ce mai mult. Pana sa apuc sa gandesc deja e tarziu si trebuie sa ma intorc acasa. Acasa…ce cuvant mare, acasa e in Romania…aici sunt in trecere…sau…? Din ce in ce mai des simt ca aici e acasa…”tre’ sa va spun pe cuvant, aici e cel mai frumos loc de pe pamant”. Poate ma credeti sau poate nu ma credeti dar chiar asa este.

De o luna imi traiesc visul cu ochii, locuiesc in Paris, pe ditai bulevardul intr-un superb apartament, jumatate de Turn Eiffel se vede de pe strada mea, turn pe care il detest ziua si de care ma indragostesc in fiecare seara cand e luminat. Ma plimb pe langa Sena si beau beri peste beri peste beri in Oberkampf. Nu am timp sa stau pentru ca e mereu ceva de facut, ceva de vazut, de mancat o portie zdravana de sushi la “barcuta” sau o seara cu prietenii sau pur si simplu sa stai intinsa la soare in Jardins de Luxembourg si sa citesti o carte buna. Sa dormi in fiecare duminica pana seara la ora 8 jumatate si sa faci nopti albe de chef dupa care sa mergi la servici.

Suna cliseic tot ce va spun? Toti cei care isi traiesc visul cu ochii stiu ca nu vorbesc prostii. Nici nu realizati cum va schimba un oras, cum va da energie, cum va face fericiti doar la gandul ca esti acolo, chiar daca uneori stai ore in sir in metrou si cineva te linge pe fatza ( din pacate so true…) sau cineva stranuta cu muci pe cartea ta (din nou…horribly true) sau si mai bine un boschetar oribil se aseaza langa tine.

Cu toate astea te intrebi…ti-e dor de casa? Nu…mi-e dor de cativa oameni, putini, dar care ii am in suflet. Ti-e dor de EL? Nu…poate doar ocazional, dar aici ti-ai dat seama ca nu ai nevoie de el sa fi fericita, ti-ai dat seama ca nu ai nevoie de el si punct.

Parisul nu e doar pentru indragostiti, ci mai ales pentru cei singur dar indragostiti irevocabil de el. And believe me…you are never single in Paris.

ENGLISH VERSION………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………….

The alarm wakes me up with the same stupid song that I tell myself I am going to change every single day. I get out of bed…9.30..no, I am not late, I start working at 11. Doesn’t seem like much? What do you say about the fact that I am popping out my eyeballs for hours in a row, sometimes without taking a small break. But I do what I love…so that makes it about right.

I eat in a hurry and pun on my boots, you need a good pair of shoes in Paris ! I get out of the house and when I’m in the subway I remember I forgot my lung at home, I curse 3 times in my head and move on. I feel numb in the subway, I don’t see anybody I can’t hear anything, not even the homeless guy that keeps shouting for 5 minutes “mademoiselle”…I remove my headset and shout at him: “mais quoi, putain?!?!”…he backs off intimidates. I guess Parisian blood runs through my veins…the bitchy one. Before I start thinking about my life it’s already getting late and I got to head home. Home…this is a big word. Home is in Romania…I’m just passing through…or am I…? I got to thinking even more, each day that this is home. “You gotta believe me when I say, this is the best place on Earth”. Maybe you believe me, maybe you don’t but it is.

Since February I’ve been living my dream, living in Paris, on a huuuge Boulevard (and not of broken dreams) in a lovely apartment, I can see half the Eiffel Tower from my street, tower that I hate during daytime and fall in love each night when it lights all up. I get to walk by Seine and drink beers after beers after beers in Oberkampf. I have no time to waste because there is always something to do, something to see, a good hunka sushi menus to eat at “the boat” or a soiree with friends. Or…just imagine lying down on the grass, sun gently burning your skin, reading in the Jardins de Luxembourg. Sleeping every Sunday until 8.30 p.m and no getting no sleep the night before you go to work.

Does this sound like a cliché ?  Everybody who is living their dream knows I don’t talk bullshit. You can’t even imagine how a city changes you, how it gives you energy and power, how it makes you happy even at the thought that you are living there, even if sometimes you have to ride the subway for hours and somebody licks your face (sadly, true story) or somebody snoozes their buggers all over your books (again, horribly true) or even when a homeless guy chooses the seat next to you.

All these being said you wonder…do you miss home ? No, I don’t miss Romania, I miss some people there, a few, but buried deep in my heart. Do you miss HIM? No…maybe sometimes, but here you’ve realized that you don’t need him to be happy, you realized you don’t need him period.

Paris isn’t just for lovers, it’s especially for the singles that are irrevocably in love with it.

And believe me…you are never single in Paris.


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Back from the dead….

February 24, 2011 at 2:29 pm (Eu gandeste!, Idei/Pareri/Opinii) (, , , , , , , , )

Ce inseamna sa te trezesti dimineata si sa iti spui ca nu mai poti fizic sa stai in Romania? Iti iei ranita in spate si…pleci…departe….la vreo 2000 de km mai la vest, in Franta, mai exact la Vichy.

Ce inseamna sa te trezesti dimineata si sa iti spui ca nu mai poti sa stai fizic nici la Vichy, ca esti satula pana si sa iti vezi fata ta, zi de zi in oglinda?   Inseamna ca e vremea sa iti iei traistuta si sa pleci, din nou…unde?….la Paris.  De ce? Pentru ca de fiecare data ai nevoie de altceva, pentru ca daca stai mai mult de 6 luni locului.

Nu este zi in care sa nu ma intreb incotro ma indrept si unde o sa ma opresc? Tiganca din fire, nomada in suflet, cu un rand de fuste si multe valize ma duc la Paris…capitala…viata.

Ma intreb cat o sa dureze pana cand o sa ma satur si de orasul ala. Si atunci? Incotro sa ma mai indrept? … Cine stie? Nici macar eu….si de aia mi se pare al dracului de interesanta viata.

Am pe jos in camera o valiza facuta inca de duminica si una neterminata in care tot mai indes cate un lucru…e mereu acolo ca sa stiu ca plec in curand, poimaine chiar.

De cate ori ma uit in oglinda vad alta persoana, ma uit la masca de fond de ten si pudra pe care o pun zilnic si imi zic ca nu mai am pic de sentimente pentru nimeni, decat pentru persoanele care ma merita. Am rupt legaturile cu Romania si cu toti care nu erau importanti in viata mea…oamenii sufletului meu au ramas bine intipariti in minte si in mailuri. Restul, cum zicea bunica, apa de ploaie.

Ma uit in dulapul in care au mai ramas 2-3 camasi si ma gandesc la persoana care eram acum un an…fac bilantul si ma gandesc, imi place ce am fost? Imi place ce am devenit? Cel mai mult din toata ecuatia asta insa imi place ca plec, ca imi vad de viata si ca stiu ca orice ar fi fost in trecut viata merge inainte. Si mai stiu ca atunci cand ajung in Paris o sa fie cineva acolo pe peron sa ma stranga in brate, sa imi ia bagajul si sa ne indreptam impreuna spre superbul Bulevard Montparnasse unde o sa fiu…si ca luni dimineata o sa lucrez pe Strada Soarelui (nr Rue du Soleil).

Si stiu ca in ultimele 6 luni de cand sunt departe am evoluat mai mult decat in ultimii 6 ani cand m-am fortat sa raman blocata intr-o chestie absolut masochista.

Si mai stiti ceva? Make room because there’se a new bitch in town ;)…My life is just perfect sometimes 😉

 

ENGLISH VERSION ……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

What does it mean to wake up every morning and tell yourself that you can’t bear it anymore ? You pick up your stuff and you go far far away, a bit to the west, in France, in Vichy

What does it mean to wake up every morning and  say to yourself that you can’t stay anymore in Vichy, you’re fed up with everything, even the simple fact of seing your face every day in the mirror sickens you. It’s about time to pack up and leave,…leave again…leave where ? Go to Paris ! Why ? Because every time you need someting else, because if you stay more than 6 months in one place you need something else.

There isn’t a day I don’t think about where I’m going with this…where will I go next and when will I settle down ? Gipsy soul, nomad at heart, with a whole bunch of dresses and lots of luggage I’m going to Paris…the capital…the life.

I wonder how long will it be until I get fed up with that city. And then ?  What will I do then ? Where will I go ? Who knows ? Nobody…not even me…and that’s why I fucking love this life !

On my floor lingers one of my luggage, already full since Sunday and another one in which I stash each day a small thing…it’s always there to remind me thatI’m leaving soon, actually the day after tomorrow.

Every time I look in the mirror I see a different person, I look at the concealer and powder mask that I put on each day I and tell myself I’ve got no more feeling left for no-one but the people that really deserve me. I broke all the bounds I had with Romania and with all the people that weren’t important in my life…people that are close to my heart stayed well engraved in my mind, soul and mails. The others…how my Grandma used to say…just dust in the wind.

I check out my closet where I have left only 2-3 shirts an think about the person I used to be last year…drawing the line and summing up I got to thinking…do I like what was? Do I like what I’ve become ? But the thing I like the most out of all these is that I’m moving on and whatever was in the past, stays in the past and life goes on no matter what. And I also know that when I will be in Paris there will be someone waiting for me on the platform to hug me, pick up my luggage and take me to the amazing Montparnasse Boulevard where I shall live…and that Monday morning I’ll be working on Sun Street ( NR Rue du Soleil).

And I also know that the last 6 months I’ve been gone I’ve evolved more that in the past 6 years I’ve forced myself to be stuck in a stupid masochistic thing.

Andy ou know something else ? Make room because there’se a new bitch in town ;)…My life is just perfect sometimes 😉


 


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