My first week as a research assistant


started on Wednesday at 4.30 in the morning when I woke up to prepare for the first walk on the beach that was going to teach me how to recognize and count the turtle tracks and the nests. I had a quick coffee and a sandwich and by 5.30 I was ready. My nose/head felt a little less blocked and I could almost breathe properly but my lungs suddenly started to express their desire to get out of my chest through the most horrible cough. It didn’t matter, I was eager to go.

At the beginning, everything seemed to look the same and after the two hour walk in torrential rain I was still a little confused about how to tell an old nest from a new one or an up track (out of the water) from a down one (back to the water). By the time we went back I was soaked and sore. My hiking boots were completely wet from the rain that was pouring down my legs and getting right inside, making their waterproof material completely useless and assuring that they would stay wet for the next week. My raincoat, made for heavy Romanian rains, not for tropical ones, was just as useless as my boots and I was all wet under it. My previously infected ear didn’t seem very happy about it and my cold got even worse. I felt like I wanted to die, right there, on the spot, and to be spared of the misery. I was beginning to question my decision of leaving my easy, comfortable life back home for what seemed to be a never ending storm from hell.

And above all, like this wasn’t enough, after some theoretical classes, at night we had the first patrol, which meant another 3 hours of walking on the beach, in order to find the turtles and learn how to work with them. My energy was somewhere under the sea level, I was struggling with the sweating and the sleepiness that my medicine caused me and I could barely drag my feet through the sand, but I didn’t want to start the whole process by asking for a night off. Even if the whole time I couldn’t focus and I was just hoping for it to finish faster, I made it! I survived the entire day and veeeeeery deep down I was feeling good about it and proud of myself.

The next few days flew by extremely quickly as we were engaged in different classes, exercises, patrols and track surveys. Actually, when I started this entry its name was “My first day as a research assistant” but all of a sudden all this time just disappeared and I realized I’ve been here for more than a week now.

My mates and I managed to make a lot of progress and to learn loads about the turtles and how to approach them. At the beginning, as we were watching Jaime, our teacher, everything seemed so easy. I thought everybody could do it, given that the turtles are not exactly the most dangerous of all animals and that measuring a carapace and counting some eggs didn’t feel like such a big deal. But on the field everything changes. You find out that the turtles are extremely powerful and that they can easily harm you. We were taught to work with them after they had laid their eggs, while they are covering and camouflaging their nests. Which means when they strongly move their flippers and throw sand everywhere around them. My first turtle broke my shoe and threw so much sand in my eyes when I tried to measure her that someone else had to do it while I was washing it away. I couldn’t see a thing. But then I learned exactly when to get closer and when to move away so that this never happens again.

One of the many things we do here is nest marking. We learned how to do it on coconuts. We were split into teams, each one with its own coconut and all the materials needed for nest marking. We had to bury it as if it were a clutch of eggs and mark the exact spot where it was so that the next day another team would go and dig it up. The look on the tourists’ faces as we were making holes in the sand for our precious coconut – priceless.

But after all the fun and games, last night was the most memorable one of the entire week. We were out on patrol, trying to find turtles to tag and nests to mark. We were lucky to find one just about 15 minutes after we started and I was all excited about it: she was in the correct phase. She was digging the egg chamber and preparing to lay. I put a rubber glove on one hand, took the counter in the other and waited. Soon enough I found myself lying down with one hand under the turtle, feeling each one of the eggs as they were coming out. I can’t find the right words to express what I was feeling that moment. It was a mixture of fascination, respect and love that I had never felt before. That marvelous creature was right there in front of me, all vulnerable, putting all her strength and effort into making sure that her babies would have the optimum chance, giving her best to ensure that her genes would continue, without minding this strange creature that wasn’t supposed to be behind her, touching her eggs. I was so close that with a simple movement of the flipper she could have slapped my face or thrown sand in my eyes. But she didn’t. She continued her job and after that she gently stretched and started to cover the nest with sand. I could almost count it as a spiritual experience, as for a few moments in time I felt absolutely amazed with the perfection of mother nature.

As the days went by, my health state got a little better. Can’t say I am completely healed now but it doesn’t stop me from feeling alright and doing what I have to. At night I am on patrols, during the day I am doing track surveys or having some time off to chill, do some bird watching, take short walks in the forest in search for other interesting (and probably deadly) life forms or just lie in the hammock reading about another little girl with a big dream that came true because she believed in it. Jane Goodall is now even more of an inspiration and a reason to continue on my new path into the unknown. Somehow all the adversities make me feel more alive and grateful for what I have. I get to appreciate the warmth of a shower after the rain, the privilege of spending most of my day outside, the difference that exercising makes for my body and the joy of having people around, even if I am still hiding in my autistic shell, too lazy and afraid to come out. I feel that these months will fly so fast that they will seem like a blink of an eye. One that will change and shape me more than I can possibly imagine.



Getting to Tortuguero


We left Wacken really early in the morning and after a while we reached the airport, where I had the already mentioned absolutely amazing shower and could finally feel like a real person again. I had about 6 hours to spend there waiting for my first flight and trying to organize myself a little. Since I am an EU citizen I can stay in Costa Rica without a visa for only 90 days, after which it gets complicated. And to prove that I am leaving after the 90 days I needed a ticket out of the country. Now, the people who know me will say that I “left everything for the last moment” and this is why I had problems. But in my defense, this time it wasn’t my fault. And here’s why. Considering my recent financial situation I thought spending as little money as possible would be a good idea so I tried to book a bus ticket to Nicaragua to have it with me when I leave and to avoid any issues. But it turns out that getting a bus ticket here isn’t actually such an easy process and that it lasts more than a week and a million emails to be able to do it. Therefore, on Sunday morning, only a few hours before I had to leave, I needed to book a plane ticket. And I did, after a long time searching for wi-fi, trying to connect, searching for the flights, converting lbs to kg to understand the luggage conditions, etc. For one euro, the girl at the info office also printed the two pages that I needed and I was all ready to go, although I could still feel all the stress in the world on my shoulders and think about everything that could go wrong.

But the moment I feared was just around the corner, so my friend left me at the security check and this is when I knew it was actually happening and there was no turning back. The first stop was in Frankfurt where I spent a couple of hours walking around and searching for food. All good and familiar. What wasn’t familiar came next. For me, the flight to Santo Domingo (Dominican Republic) was the first long one (10 hours), the first one over the ocean and the first one with such a gigantic plane. I was surprised by the amount of food that they gave us and the arctic conditions due to the extreme AC. I had time to do a bit of everything: write my previous blog entry, reread the monitoring protocol and other stuff about turtles, make some MSQRD selfies, eat (!!), sleep, dream. I remember waking up during the turbulences so f*ing cold that I thought “omg, if we fall now into the Atlantic I’m just going to freeze to death”. Yeah.

One more flight took me from Santo Domingo to San Jose and I was finally there. I took a taxi to my hostel even if it was way too early to do it but there was no place for me to stay in the airport either so I decided to give it a try. The driver left with a 4$ tip against my will because of course i owed her 31$ and I only had 35$ so why bother to give the change… It didn’t matter, I was there, the place was open and I could at least leave my suitcase. The most hippie guy ever told me that he had my bed ready but that I had to pay for 2 nights if I stayed at that hour but even so he invited me to have some coffee in the common area. He even gave me the internet password and he left me there saying that I could check in after 2pm. Luckily, one of my colleagues was already there and she came down to keep me company. We spent some hours talking and getting to know each other and then all of a sudden the hippie guy comes over and says that I had to pay the extra night for just staying there. Obviously, all hell broke loose and after having a fight with him and his boss they agreed not to charge me as long as I left until 2. After around 30 hours of travelling the last thing I wanted to do was walk around like crazy in tropical heat and 200% humidity but I didn’t have any choice. So we gave a little vuelta through San Jose and explored a park that was nearby, had something to eat and bought an adapter (because yeah, the plugs here are nothing like the European ones) and by the time we were almost done I experienced my first rain. We went back to the hostel at around 1pm and this time, because of their huge hearts, they let me stay but they only allowed me to get into the room after 3pm because… pura vida, that’s why. I took a shower and tried not to fall asleep too early but it was impossible with my jet-lag so I ended up sleeping for about 12 hours almost without moving.

n the morning I was able to properly greet some other members of the team that had arrived the previous night and we all left together to Tortuguero. That meant 2 busses and one boat, in total about 5 hours of travel. But we were finally at the destination, all excited about the interesting plants and animals seen on the way and about the wonders that are still waiting for us beyond the station.

The staff are unbelievably friendly and very well organized, everything seems new and fabulous and for now even the rain has its own beauty. Heaven is in the palm of my hand and it’s waiting here… as the song goes.

Unfortunately though, under these conditions I managed to get a cold and now I can only breathe through half of my nose… As I am writing this I am witnessing an unbelievable storm and watching as the boats go on the river. So this is what I was stressing about? Ahh… the life… (:





Since this whole new experience wasn’t crazy enough, I decided to start it with a first stop in what used to be my all time favorite metal festival – Wacken Open Air.


I left home on Tuesday morning, so early that I din’t even realize when Monday was gone. After about three hours of uncomfortable sleep, in which my head refused to cooperate and maintain its position, I was in Hamburg. I paid a mini fortune to leave my luggage at the airport, took the essentials and went ahead to find the hostel and make my check-in.

My mind was full of big plans: I was going to visit the city, take some wonderful pictures and explore a bit of the forgotten German lands. Forgotten by me I mean. Ever since Spain occupied my heart there was no room for any other love. Obviously, the moment I saw the nice clean bed (oh, how I dream about one right now as I am writing these lines) I couldn’t resist it and decided to take a short rest. Like, for the whole day, of course.

Waking up was kind of disappointing, considering that I managed to miss out the entire city discovery, but one of my roommates decided to show me around a little bit. We took a walk around the center where lovely buildings and monuments reminded of the not necessarily so lovely past and even got to the botanical garden for a while. Green, lovely, full of flowers, it was the perfect spot to spend an evening chilling and talking.

In the morning it was time to head to the airport again, where my friend and I met to get the bus to Wacken. So after carefully putting my ear drops (because a metal festival wouldn’t be fun without an ear infection) I packed my bag and left with some sort of enthusiasm. Only that the first impression of the day was: what’s up with the fuckin’ rain?? Was it going to be like that for the rest of the days? Because if yes then it was going to suck big time! Never minding the darkness of my heart or the water pouring from the sky, my friend was all happy and excited: we were going to have a hell of a time!

While we were waiting for the bus to come we met some Romanian guys out of which one decided to join us at the festival. It turned out that he was living in Barcelona and that he was actually a friend of a very close friend of mine. Oh, and that we actually met about 8 years ago. Pañuelo* much? Myeah I guess, we couldn’t believe it either.

The time on the bus flew by as we were catching up with the latest gossip of each other’s lives and when we least expected it we were there. Wacken was waiting for us after some days of heavy rain with a muddy soil and a humid atmosphere. The moment I stepped out of the bus and into the field all the mud started to stick to my boots and after witnessing the horror I decided that I wasn’t going to like it. Not even a bit. The thought of living in the cold rain for 4 days didn’t get any more appealing as we were approaching the camping site or the concert area. It all seemed like a complete nightmare.

But even so, we managed to set the tent, to get some sweet wine from the supermarket with money that we found almost buried in the mud, to eat our first black burger and to watch some pretty nice concerts. The rain continued to transform the village in a muddy soup from hell and as the time passed I was struggling between appreciating my presence there and completely hating every second of it.  Every step we took was a challenge (an not in the philosophical way at all) and every shower seemed like the most useless thing in the world. We had a constant sensation of being dirty and cold, except of course for the hours when the sun came out and completely burned my face. But we’re both masochistic enough to also enjoy it to some extent. We were amazed by the number of people that showed up at the Iron Maiden concert, we enjoyed bands like Blind Guardian and Therion, I completely lost my mind on Orphaned Land, we laughed and saw some tits on Steel Panther and we screamed out of our lungs on the one and only Twisted Sisters concert:

We’re not gonna take it!

No! We ain’t gonna take it!

We’re not gonna take it!


Whitesnake were good, way better than in Bucharest, Tarja sucked, and we discovered XXX and Unisonic and some other cool bands, we spent some time with each other and ate some good food so I guess I must admit that in the end it wasn’t all that bad, even though most of the time I was complaining and swearing that I would never step into that place again.

The last day came way faster than expected and we all had to leave. I must admit that the happiest moment of my life so far was this morning when I found the hot water shower in the airport. Never before have I appreciated the importance of being able to be clean and smell like flowers instead of cow shit. Now I know. So after we left half of the soil in that bathroom we started feeling about 5 kilograms lighter, had some breakfast, charged the mobiles, had some coffee, played some Uno and it all ended with me finally getting on my first long flight.

But all about the trip in the next chapter.

Besos, darlings!


*el mundo es un pañuelo – the world is so small

Changes. The beginning

And because not finishing things is sooooo like me, I’ve decided to drop the Cape Verde story for a while (no shit, right?) and to go on writing about my new adventure. Will continue the old one at some point, cross my heart and hope to die.

But this story actually began right there.  It all happened one night while I was on patrol, sitting on the beach and realizing that I was there only with the stars and the sea, where all life seemed a lot more real and undisturbed by the modern bullshit we’re all so familiar with. No lights, no bars or pubs, no music, no garbage, no people, just us, waiting for the turtles. And all of a sudden I found myself thinking… “how cool would it be to just do this!! Not only for a few weeks on vacations, but to make this my life…” Hell, it seemed like a crazy idea. Therefore I was all for it. A bit of research showed me it was possible if only I could have some balls to do it. But if I knew one thing about myself back then, it was that balls were never a problem.

What I didn’t know was that, surprisingly, people change, dreams and priorities become so different from decade to decade and maybe even I was about to go through the same process. Yeah, the fearless dreamer that was all about ambitions and never giving up, suddenly found herself in the deepest of doubts in front of the idea that was supposed to turn her life into the one she always wanted. What I wanted ever since I was a little girl, then a teenager, then a young woman… but now? Was it what I wanted now? I had made myself a comfy little routine, with the best job I had ever had, with a lovely group of people that were too good to be true, with trips and barbecues and fun on the beach, with lovely weather and tapas and tinto de verano… I was all settled and fine, in the one country I love maybe a bit more than my own. So why on Earth would anyone change that?

But after months of internal debates, struggles, endless thoughts and a badly broken heart, I decided to go fulfill that little girl’s dream – to travel and help protect endangered species.  So here I am now, completely terrified by finally getting what I hoped for. Never before have I been so afraid and never before was I so close to completely giving up and going back to safety.  But deep down I know safe doesn’t mean happy and that I owe it to myself to at least try it.

Will I be good enough this time? Will I just lose everything I know for a beautiful idea? Are love and happiness only for the privileged? I’m on my way to find that out.

Pura vida, my friends!

One month in the rhythm of “maybe” – Part 2 – Stuck in Praia


I was dropped in a hostel, in the middle of a room with cracked walls and almost no light and told that everything was going to be ok. Somehow I was in deep doubt. I was there alone, suddenly aware of my whiteness and blondeness and wishing that I had at least a tan… Because everybody was staring at me from head to toe like I was some kind of monkey. It was also useless to search my trolley for clothes that wouldn’t draw attention. Everything I had and everything I am was just so unbelievably different than all the rest.


I received a phone call from the ngo announcing me that the next day two ex-volunteers that were also in Praia were planning to see another city on Santiago, the most beautiful place around there, called Tarrafal. When? Maybe at 7, maybe at 8… I decided to be ready early anyway because I didn’t want to risk having to spend the day there by myself and it was a good choice to make. A few minutes before 7 two white, blonde and blue eyed girls appeared at my hostel’s door, very eager to explore the island. I was just very eager to be teleported away from there and kept wondering how the hell they were so relaxed and not bothered by all the looks and comments everyone kept making.


In order to go to Tarrafal we needed to take a local mini bus that they called a iaz/yaz(?). And to reach the bus station we went through some streets packed with people, stray dogs (not unusual for me to see, I do come from Bucharest) and stray goats (yes, goats. Starting to appreciate Bucharest already? Kinda…). We were picked up by the driver, that asked us where we were going and it turned out that he had the right bus. We just needed to wait a little. Maybe 5 minutes… Plenty of time to look around and to realize that we were in some sort of market place where a bunch of women were selling vegetables, fruits and, of course, animals. One woman was cutting chickens and removing their feathers. Another one was selling them alive. People would come, check them out and then stick them in a plastic bag to carry them home easier. Just as they would drag goats around by strings wrapped around their necks. A couple of meters away from the bus we were already sitting comfortably in, there was a bowl of… piglets. Tiny, screaming little piglets that were thrown one on top of another by another woman that was very angry with them for making so much noise. I believe the method was supposed to calm them down somehow…


In the meantime, as I was losing myself in the wonders of my surroundings, the 5 minutes turned into 15-20-30… And then the driver closed the doors and the windows of the bus and started to wash it. He had a bucket full of water with some detergent that he carefully used to cover everything. And then he rinsed it. And then he dried it. And then he started to blow away any droplet that was left in between the windows and the doors. And then we could finally breathe because he allowed some air inside. The 30 minutes turned into an hour or maybe even an hour and a half. We had already stopped checking the time and were just hopelessly waiting there when we finally started to move towards our dream place.

On the way there we crossed all the island and we got to see some unbelievably beautiful landscapes. The mountains were so wild, but the villages so little and the people so poor that they really made me start to wonder about the importance of all the nonsense in my fussy European life. Or if there was any…


As we arrived in Tarrafal we were welcomed by some women selling coconut water. They were just walking around with the coconuts on their heads and some huge machetes in their hands that they used to cut the nuts open. They would even give you a fancy colored plastic straw to make the drinking easier. (About the straw thing… check out this video). The beach was small and very nice. Therefore we added a ton of sunscreen and just laid there for a while, chilling. I snorkeled to find some really cool fish quite close to the shore and I finally started to like the place. Only that on our way back, the whole iaz story repeated all over again, this time not including the car wash, but instead we had a loooooot of waiting and driving in circles to gather more people.

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I don’t remember much about the day that followed, but I know that the third day a plane was scheduled to fly to Maio. And considering that everything is possible in Cape Verde, I was told that maybe I could have a chance to get on it if we spoke to the company or even the pilot. So in the morning I packed everything and I went to the airport where I waited and waited until it was pretty clear that there was no place for me on that plane. I was accompanied by a wonderful man who had the patience to talk to me and say that maybe there is a reason why I was stuck there, that I should be grateful for it and that I should enjoy it and learn from the experience. Pretty cool and wise, but way to Zen for my anxiety levels. It turned out though that I had no choice but to go back and wait some more.

Getting a boat ticket was one of the most difficult things to accomplish in Praia those days. The colleague from the NGO spent some hours in front of the office trying to buy one for me and he finally succeeded only because he had a reservation. Otherwise the chances were pretty low. It seemed that all the people on the face of the planet wanted to go to Maio. The queue was gigantic and everybody was pushing each other whenever the office door opened. Of course, it is not common for something this massive to happen. It was just happening then. But it’s definitely not my bad luck. Because I don’t have any. Aham. In the end I was happy to be able to leave even after the 5 days. It could’ve been worse. I could’ve stayed there a lot longer.

So this left me with only around 48 hours to spend in the wonderful capital of the archipelago, during which I have seen some live concerts with local music (btw, quite cool), drank some fresh papaya juice, eaten a shaworma with a bug inside and witnessed a car accident with a woman that was lying dead in the middle of the road. But all this wasn’t even close to preparing me for the Maio experience.

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One month in the rhythm of “maybe” – Part one – Getting there

This is the story of my crazy African adventure (the first one, as I like to think about it :P) – volunteering for sea turtles in Cape Verde. I decided to write it in English since I am sure that not only the folks back home are curious about how it went and I would like everyone to be able to read it and spare me the trouble of talking about it all the time… just kidding, I’ll be bragging about this for a while now.

So there I was on a july morning (no, not looking for love :P) in beautiful and burning hot Andalucia preparing for what was going to be a life changing holiday. I kinda had a bad feeling about it, different than all the enthusiasm and nerves that usually come before a large trip… I felt like something was about to go very wrong. Buuuut since everyone was telling me that it’s normal to be anxious and that it’s gonna be just fine and since even my mom (who always stresses herself out of nothing) was advising me to calm the fuck down, I left full of hope and trying to practice positive thinking. Like… come on inner peace, I don’t have all day.

In the plane full of crying and crawling-all-over-the-place babies I took out my diary and started writing some self relaxing none sense, trying hard enough not to punch some ignorant parents in the face and remembering the Bene Gesserit litany against fear… yeah, don’t ask… When we got to the moment of landing I was in a good state of mind and soul. I was fine and prepared. Nothing could go wrong. First stop – Gran Canaria. I had heard of it. It was supposed to be nice and fancy, a place for the rich people to spend all their money. The excitement of being for the first time on an island suddenly emptied my mind of all the worries and I was finally ready to enjoy the day. I took a bus to my hostel and after arriving I realized that it was situated in the middle of a small village, without any contact with the above mentioned fancy area. Not such a big deal after all, what I needed was something close to the airport so that I could get there in time for my second flight the next day. And I did.


My second plane was really tiny and inside it looked like one of the busses that go between villages in Romania (“rata” pentru cunoscatori). It seemed crowded and it even had a stop, in Sal, one of the other islands. In my complete ignorance I was unaware of the fact that planes can also have stops. One always learns…


Anyway, soon enough it landed in Praia where I waited in line to buy the visa and where the story actually began.

It all started the moment I walked out the doors of the airport, carefully carrying my already broken trolley (it lasted less than one day). I was supposed to be picked up by a certain taxi driver and taken to the harbor to catch the boat to Maio, the final destination. He was already there waiting for me. While I was at the exchange office, another man took my luggage and carried it to the car. How nice, I thought… but still, why are two people needed? I found it out immediately, after this second guy asked me for money. Awesome… Not knowing what the hell that currency was all about, I ended up giving him the equivalent of around 5€. But I didn’t have time to figure it out on the spot because all hell broke loose. All the taxi drivers were gathered around the car and were aggressively arguing. To make it even more interesting, they were obviously doing it in creole. So there I was, sitting in the car and watching the show, not knowing whether I should laugh about it or feel worried, until one of them opened the door and pulled me out , explaining that I must go with another car. Apparently there was an order in which the taxis could be taken and I wasn’t allowed to go with the one that was assigned for me. The driver had almost given up on me and he’d almost taken all my luggage out of the truck. Luckily, there was a girl around who understood English and helped to explain the situation: the man had my boat ticket and was supposed to take me to the harbor. They didn’t like it but they finally calmed down and allowed me to go. Phew. So much for a warm welcome…

On the way the phone rings. It was a woman from the NGO I was volunteering for. I was so happy I could hear someone speaking a language that I could actually understand and told her all about the latest events. She laughed and then, on a very positive note, she gives me the news of the day: the driver didn’t have my boat ticket. Because he didn’t buy one. So there was no ticket. No boat. No Maio. Wait, what? WTF…?? Panic…?! Not yet. The woman assured me that one of her colleagues was there, waiting to meet me and try to speak to the captain of the boat to allow me to go even without a ticket. Since I wasn’t there on vacation, but for participating in a conservation project, working for free for Cape Verde, the chances were pretty high. Ok then, she seemed pretty confident and convincing to me. There were still some hours before the boat was supposed to leave so therefore plenty of time for the problem to be solved. I couldn’t imagine spending 5 days in Praia until the next boat left. Mneah. Think positive and the universe will be there for you, right? Wrong! I met the man from the organization and the poor guy tried absolutely everything to get me on that boat. The answer was always the same: “there’s no way in hell you’re getting on that boat”. The reason? Well, a short while ago one of the boats sank and I don’t remember how many people died on the way because they overbooked it. So now they weren’t accepting extra passengers. Not even one tiny little European flying across the world to save the turtles. Nope. Panic now?? Hell yes! Oh my god how I panicked and freaked out and cried and screamed. It was unacceptable. Crazy. Stupid. Ridiculous. Etc. But my breakdown didn’t change anything. It stroke me like a lightning: I was stuck in Praia. My lovely one month vacation in paradise was suddenly shrinked to 3 weeks. My time was about to be  wasted and my mind was lost in the dangerous spiral of thoughts that always imprisons me.


In clipa asta ma gandesc ca mi-ar placea sa mai am saptispe ani. Sa mai pot privi totul cu speranta si bucurie si sa mai cred ca pot exista lucruri permanente in viata. Mi-ar placea sa mai cred in oameni si in esenta lor buna. Sa ma imprietenesc dupa doar cateva ore cu cineva pentru ca toate defensele sunt jos si ne aflam pe aceeasi lungime de unda. Sa mai pot dovedi ca nu mi se poate spune “nu poti” si sa mai fac o data plimbarea aia de zece kilometri pe jos discutand despre carti si te miri ce altele. Sa mai descopar lucruri noi cu entuziasmul tineretii si placerea pe care ti-o da un corp functional care poate urca pe creste. M-as gandi din nou la viitor ca la un ceva mai bun in care toate visele se pot implini oricat de nerealiste ar fi. As munci pentru el asteptand sa se schimbe frumos si sa se vada efortul. Iar intr-o noapte ca asta mi-as lua chitara si as zdrangani la lumina lumanarilor, cu fereastra deschisa, incet de tot ca sa nu trezesc pe nimeni. Doar asa, pentru ca pot. As putea. Iar a doua zi dimineata as lenevi somnoroasa printr-un roman clasic sau o poveste fantasy. Mi-as munci mintea incercand sa tin pasul cu ai mai mari decat mine, mai cititi, mai pregatiti, mai destepti… mai buni? Nu mai stiu… As mai ramane socata de un “Requiem for a dream” vazut intr-o zi de vara si m-as intoarce acasa nescotand un cuvant. Iar apoi as mai asculta “Forever autumn” vazand cum se schimba frunzele fara sa ma simt singura.

Auzeam mereu oamenii mari zicand ca ar mai vrea sa fie mici dar “cu mintea de acum”. Asa si eu acum. Nu mi-e foarte clar cand m-am trezit ca tre sa fiu om mare. As vrea sa pot spune ca acum cinci ani jumate cand am inceput sa predau dar am o vaga impresie ca a fost mult mai tarziu. Gen ieri. Insa cert este ca am ajuns la vorba lor… sa mai am o sansa dar cu mintea de acum. Mi-ar folosi la multe pentru saptispe ani. Pacat ca nu se potriveste si cu douajnoo.

Acum, vorba cantecului, “au trecut ani si viata s-a schimbat”. Atat de mult incat pe alocuri am impresia ca ajunge la un 360 grade si atinge in anumite puncte viata de atunci. Poate ca de-aia si ma gandesc la ea. Tre sa-mi muncesc din nou mintea ca sa tin pasul cu ai mai mari si mai culti, maine ma voi pierde intr-o poveste fantasy iar candva poate voi mai zdrangani in soapta “Umbra”. Dar totul fara magia de atunci, fara naivitatea unei inimi intregi si fara un corp care ma poate duce oricat de sus vreau.

Funny note… winampul meu a inceput random sa cante “and i’d do anything for my sweet sixteen”… nu chiar anything si nu chiar sixteen. Close enough though.