ENGLISH, LIFE

notes Wismar

Former Easter Germany.
Small city 40 000 inhabitants. Almost like Curtea de Argeș.
Stasi – my mom said no because she didn’t like uniforms. My uncle was working for them being a spy 4 the SU.
Soviet blocks of flats – they needed space. How about the Chicago school of architecture?

You can ask for your Stasi file. 2,000 Eur for the driver’s licence.

Alte Schwede – holy moly. . The oldest building in town.

Beer tasting at Hinricus Noyte’s brewery.

3 types of beer to taste + a pretzel. Breakfast.

Blonde -pilsen.

Dark – braun stiller, sweeter and bitter at the same time. The oldest historically.

Red – red Eric. No real character, fullness.

Free time. To do what?

Ice cream or visiting St Nicholas’ church?
Ice cream.

Music by two street musicians, probably students. They had a good classical repertoire.
A tuba and a clarinet playing.
It’s haleluia cohen.
What?
Haleluaih by leonard cohen.
Oh. I’m not a symphony goer.

ENGLISH, LIFE

From Oslo, with pride

7 August 2018

Oslo revisited! The pride of those people for doing things their way. For not being in the EU and enjoying it. For spending only 4% of their oil money now and leaving the rest in their safety fund for the future. Do they have problems? You bet! Greed – like most humans. Wanting more and sooner.
Anyway their love of nature and their architecture are stunning. Not to mention their education of their young ones.

7.08.2018

Din nou la Oslo! Ce mândrii sunt norvegienii că fac lucrurile în felul lor propriu! Pentru că NU sunt în Uniunea Europeană și pentru că se bucură de asta! Pentru că nu cheltuiesc decât 4% din veniturile din petrol. Restul îl lasă într-un fond de siguranță pentru viitor. Au probleme? Evident! Lăcomia – ca majoritatea oamenilor. Dorindu-și mai mult și mai repede.

Cu toate astea dragostea lor față de natură și arhitectura norvegiană sunt uluitoare. Ce să mai vorbesc de educația copiilor și a tinerilor!

Oslo troll at Holmenkollen ski jump / Trol la trambulina Holmenkollen
Tjuvholmen – I think. / Presupun că e în cartierul Tjuvholmen din Oslo.
Tjuvholmen – statue.
Welcome by the Oslo vikings! / Bine ați venit la Oslo, ne spun vikingii locali!
DIN VIATA, ENGLISH, LIFE, ROMANA

Notes

After 44 years! Who would have thought? When I first saw it in 1974 there was hardly anyone around. Can you imagine?


După 44 de ani! Cine-ar fi crezut? Când am văzut-o prima dată în 1974 era pustiu în jurul ei.

ENGLISH, POETRY. STORIES

Temptations (2)

Our freedom

Of which we are so proud
And we constantly pronounce
This is what I want
I choose to do so.
I am α and Ω.
 
The Universe starts with ME.
I am the millenium.
Me, I, myself, mine, forever I?
 
Massification
Comodification
Personalization
Marketization,
globalization,
glocalization,
individualisation?
 
Luring –
Temptation or knowledge
We see
B U T
We are blind.
 
The end is here
Whether or not
I want so.
ENGLISH, POETRY. STORIES

Things from the Past

My favourite Christmas ornament.

yellow with
little white and red flowers,
probably hand painted.
damaged and awkwardly repaired:
wrinkled cardboard and old glue.
a plain, boring and ugly object for today.
no shine, no movement; no fragrance, no sound.
an old object:
just hanging in a fir-tree and
capturing the light
of the sun or
the dining room lamps
throwing them back
not in thousands of sparkles,
but in a faded, mellow, subdued radiance
that brings to my mind so many memories.
 
my first glimpses of life:
the awe and mystery of Christmas.
my first Christmas tree
in a haze
of memory or smoke
from real candles -
their grey, church-like-smell.
the joy,
the wonder,
the security …
sheer happiness…
waiting for Christmas to happen.
 
I look at the little sun shining,
not burning, in my palm,
in the fir tree
in its storage box:
all those memories come back!
a life time of Christmases:
rustling candies wrapped up in shiny silver and gold,
the smell of oranges, a luxury.
home baked  sweet bread with lots of nuts,
the whispers of parents and neighbours
getting things ready for Father Christmas to come,
laughter,
apples,
gifts,
my first Jewish Father Christmas,
the distant sound of carolers in the streets,
orășelul copiilor,
frozen feet and noses,
boiled wine and spiced up țuica,
poems in exchange of gifts,
a this-small-dwarf-bathing-in-a-coffee-pot,
Moș Gerilă …
 
The pain of discovery,
the denial of mythology,
the happy sparkle of red wine,
cigarette smoke,
sausages and sarmale,
cold cuts,
stories,
my own kids’ expectations,
French perfumes, furs,
American cigarettes.
Stories … .