For five days in June the ocean has been my home. Our home. The air was stuffed with seashells smell as I walked the beach streets of Souh Africa’s windy city, Port Elizabeth, the perfect surroundings to indulge myself in and seek for the tranquility I needed after my grandma’s sudden death.
Those five days I promised myself I’ll enjoy every day of my life, I’ll stop complaining and bitching about the “hard times” and embrace the happiness in every moment. The ocean was cold and calm, and although bathing was out of the question in the winter months, sitting on the beach while listening to the sound of waves put my mind to ease. I felt peaceful and ready to show myself to the world.
Every day I used to wake up in the comfort of a holiday beach guest house which makes you think you’ve landed straight into paradise – and have a sumptuous breakfast including the needful African rooibos tea. While my husband was already giving training to a certain engineering company (the downsizes of business trips), I was chilling in the afternoon sun, waiting to go for a walk on the beachfront or visiting the nearest shopping center, The Boardwalk, with spectacular views on the casino.
Then, shortly before my husband returned to the guest house, I was wandering the sandy beach, collecting seashells and reading an exciting novel by Sara Gruen, Water for Elephants (the Romanian edition) – a New York Times best seller published three years ago and awarded with prestigious titles for the most popular book. I strongly recommend it as it enlightened my days on the beach.
While I was busy reading my book a voice interrupted me – that is how I met Edwin, a black guy coming from Zimbabwe. He carried with himself his only priceless possessions – a small suitcase with a warm blanket and some clothes inside and a two liters Coke whom he shared with me. He was asking for directions and, since I wasn’t a local, but I knew the immediate surroundings, we engaged in a pleasant conversation.
He seemed a nice guy with no bad intensions, so we chatted about us, about my hometown, my challenges I face being a white immigrant in South Africa and my hopes for a bright future. He had a lot of faith in life and what awaits him – that’s what I like about blacks, they put their lives in the hands of faith. Edwin left his country after graduation and a nice job just after things got worse in Zimbabwe and he didn’t want to stay with his grandfather in a remote village. Both his parents died when he was little, but thanks to a white Afrikaner who paid for his further studies, Edwin is now a bright and educated young man who claims to like IT stuff and web designing and even tried his luck in Botswana. I myself told him about my writing passion and my life as a journalist in Romania.
Time was passing by at a different pace with Edwin, the conversation was so engaging that I almost forgot my husband’s arrival soon at the guesthouse. Tomorrow was our last day in Port Elizabeth, but I was happy I met Edwin – he gave me a 50 billion dollars money note – the Zimbabwean money that worth nothing now – and he went in searching for a place to stay overnight and looking for a job to start somewhere in South Africa.
Edwin became my Zimbabwean “pen friend” – we exchange emails now in the short time he affords to visit an Internet Café – now he’s also on Facebook, which is easier for me to let him a quick message. Last time he told me he left for Cape Town and made some friends there. He will soon start working again.
Port Elizabeth is a constant memory on my mind. Last day was harder, because I had to leave the beach, the beautiful cozy guesthouse, the conversations with Edwin and the short visits to Wilhelmina, the Cape colored lady behind the decorations shop counter at Boardwalk – she had beautiful seashell necklaces, earrings and bracelets to sell, so I couldn’t resist them. She was also having a rough time, having to live from a low salary and feed her five kids, after her husband’s death. I really felt connected with her and thought of 90% of Africa’s population who feels the same, whether they have a job or not. And then I couldn’t help thinking about my difficulties and my complains and how stupid they look now, when I know the real stories behind these people I met.
One thing I learned from them was to believe in faith and hope. As I’m writing these lines, I already know I got a new job in media, after months of searching for the right opportunity – but that’s another chapter to tell. And my life has changed for the best, as I’ve never been happier and grateful for what I have.
Thursday, 23 July 2009
Tuesday, 09 June 2009
The end of a story
My grandma passed away yesterday morning. I am still shocked. I couldn’t even cry on the phone, nothing. Dad, who never ever cries (or so I thought), couldn’t keep out anymore and told me, that evening, in his most surprisingly crying voice, “we lost her”. Grandma had been starting to feel bad the last two days, but no one might have tell the end of this story. She always regained her strength back.
There’s nothing I could have done either, but the shocking turning of the events made me feel a strong sense of incapability and anger. I shouldn’t be in this place, 10.000 km for home, right now, away from grandma. You don’t realize how much you want to be back home until something like this happens. Mom said it’s ok, they don’t expect me to come now. It must be really painful for them, as much as it’s really hurting for me, being so far away and completely useless.
For long hours I couldn’t think about anything else. Rick was more than shocked, he didn’t know what to say. I tried to picture anything else in my mind but my dad crying words “we lost her”. That’s all I could hear – we lost her. Any detail made it worse – at least grandma passed away peacefully, but I still blame the side effects of diabetes and the medication involved. How can a person have a joke and die hours later? Rick lost one of his grandpa in the same way when he was just a kid. His grandma passed away in his sleep after an enjoyable day with all the family, when he told them about planning a three months camping trip he couldn’t wait for. The only trip he got after was, sadly, to the cemetery.
I felt asleep very hard, among tears. Although grandma met Rick before and knew we were happily married, I wish she could have joined us for our “blue wedding”, I wish I could have talked with her more on the phone, I wish I told her I miss her and love her, I wish she could have lived some years more to see her at our weeding in Romania… Wishes that won’t bring her back, though. Wishes that make me ignorant, impotent, weak.
My birthday will come in just four days and my grandma won’t be there to tell me, at least on the phone, happy birthday. It brings more sadness to me that she just died now, shortly before my birthday. Things will never be the same again in these days of June.
Here, in South Africa, the month of June brings winter. As if it knew about my grandma’s story, the weather started to get really bad yesterday, cloudy, windy, cold and the yesterday road back to Pretoria from my in-laws was unusual foggy and rainy at times. Scary enough, last night the wind got crazy – the same particular sound of winter snowy storms, only this time without any snow. There go the blue skies and sunny days…
Grandma told me once that, when my grandpa died, in 1994, he said to her that she will live for as long as the difference between their age, which is of eleven years. He was pretty close. My grandma lived on fifteen years and could have even celebrated her 80th birthday in October, when I even imagined a great party with most of her family and relatives. I hate when things don’t turn out the way they should be.
I’m trying to be positive again. Last days I was feeling a bit better with the possibility of having a nice job in media in short time, as I was told by a recruitment agency. Our company is also doing ok and soon we’ll manufacture the first coffee tables for our clients. But now all I think of is that my grandma is no longer, physically, with us (I spent almost 20 years of my life with her everyday, practically she raised my sister and me) and that one day, my days will be over too, which is frightening. I will never be at peace with death – not ever since my grandpa died fifteen years ago and I realized that all of us will come to end our stories one day. I was eight then.
There’s nothing I could have done either, but the shocking turning of the events made me feel a strong sense of incapability and anger. I shouldn’t be in this place, 10.000 km for home, right now, away from grandma. You don’t realize how much you want to be back home until something like this happens. Mom said it’s ok, they don’t expect me to come now. It must be really painful for them, as much as it’s really hurting for me, being so far away and completely useless.
For long hours I couldn’t think about anything else. Rick was more than shocked, he didn’t know what to say. I tried to picture anything else in my mind but my dad crying words “we lost her”. That’s all I could hear – we lost her. Any detail made it worse – at least grandma passed away peacefully, but I still blame the side effects of diabetes and the medication involved. How can a person have a joke and die hours later? Rick lost one of his grandpa in the same way when he was just a kid. His grandma passed away in his sleep after an enjoyable day with all the family, when he told them about planning a three months camping trip he couldn’t wait for. The only trip he got after was, sadly, to the cemetery.
I felt asleep very hard, among tears. Although grandma met Rick before and knew we were happily married, I wish she could have joined us for our “blue wedding”, I wish I could have talked with her more on the phone, I wish I told her I miss her and love her, I wish she could have lived some years more to see her at our weeding in Romania… Wishes that won’t bring her back, though. Wishes that make me ignorant, impotent, weak.
My birthday will come in just four days and my grandma won’t be there to tell me, at least on the phone, happy birthday. It brings more sadness to me that she just died now, shortly before my birthday. Things will never be the same again in these days of June.
Here, in South Africa, the month of June brings winter. As if it knew about my grandma’s story, the weather started to get really bad yesterday, cloudy, windy, cold and the yesterday road back to Pretoria from my in-laws was unusual foggy and rainy at times. Scary enough, last night the wind got crazy – the same particular sound of winter snowy storms, only this time without any snow. There go the blue skies and sunny days…
Grandma told me once that, when my grandpa died, in 1994, he said to her that she will live for as long as the difference between their age, which is of eleven years. He was pretty close. My grandma lived on fifteen years and could have even celebrated her 80th birthday in October, when I even imagined a great party with most of her family and relatives. I hate when things don’t turn out the way they should be.
I’m trying to be positive again. Last days I was feeling a bit better with the possibility of having a nice job in media in short time, as I was told by a recruitment agency. Our company is also doing ok and soon we’ll manufacture the first coffee tables for our clients. But now all I think of is that my grandma is no longer, physically, with us (I spent almost 20 years of my life with her everyday, practically she raised my sister and me) and that one day, my days will be over too, which is frightening. I will never be at peace with death – not ever since my grandpa died fifteen years ago and I realized that all of us will come to end our stories one day. I was eight then.
Thursday, 14 May 2009
What really matters
My parents left on 3rd May. I had them closer for two weeks, long enough to know that mom will always be the excessive caretaker in my life – she always has her well-intentioned advices with her – and genuinely wants to take care of everything, in her own way, which is “always better”.
Fortunately, she loved our cute house with garden, just like in fairytales. Dad was always passionate about technology and made sure I’ve got everything I need in place, including the latest software. Since technology is more expensive in this country, I was more than happy. Unlike my mom, dad is always calm and the perfect observer, but that doesn’t mean he’s not involved in my life as much as mom. He knows that I can decide most things for myself. Plus, I’ve got my husband now and together we know we can do anything.
Alice was cool. She’s my youngest sister. We couldn’t stand each other when we were kids, always arguing and perhaps competing against each other. My childhood was very different than hers – I was the outcast, she was the popular. Only in the past years I said to myself that I won’t let this stupid game get me mad anymore. I was quite happy with my life and I began to forget the unwanted part of my past. Today I can say that any of us has her own life and not feel a grudge on each other. She was very nice to me and couldn’t wait to go shopping or swimming together.
I’ve always been the stubborn one and cherished my own moments, but strangely as I find it, I really miss them, even the part with mom nagging me about making the food or the fact that my clothes are not perfectly placed in my wardrobe. Or dad’s support in anything – when I was a kid I always used to ask him for advice, because he could discuss and share his opinion calmly. I realize that, sometimes, I miss his support as well.
What really made me happy was their chance to see me in my new world. I’ve changed a lot, partly because my mentality shifted from the jolly journalist girl who’s committed to her job and gets the money to the survival chick who uses her mind to find ways of improving and growing herself. Changes make you aware of better lives and I strongly believe that.
Apart from seeing the wildlife in Kruger Park, cruising to see the canyon and the magnificent surrounds, spending quiet time at braais or having fancy dinner for my dad’s 52th birthday (which I wanted to be included in their trip) or the nice shopping sprees in Pretoria malls, I couldn’t help having moments asking myself what will happen after their leave? I wasn’t sad, I was just aware of my life and its challenges. The holiday is gone for good.
The truth is that realized that I’ve grown so much to the point that my desires and wishes are very different from my parents’. The next step is not their next move. Their worries are not necessary mine. Finding yourself and ways of living a quality better life was not their main “mantra”. There are some things I’ve learned while standing still in my peaceful garden here in South Africa. And really in that peaceful environment you can touch your thoughts and listen to the voices inside your head – your gut feeling, your inspiration or whatever one may call it.
Firstly, that everything happens for a reason and I’m here in this place for a reason. Perhaps I met Ricky for the same reason. Perhaps my growing route wasn’t there in my country. Maybe the next big thing in my life needed to happen in a new fresh place. Maybe it was the calling for the new adventure of my life.
Secondly, the fact that life needs to be live at its best right now, not tomorrow. When change and opportunity come, it’s best to take it. I could have stayed another 5 years or more in my country, I could have waited more or convince him to take the step, but I simply didn’t. I read in a book a powerful phrase “neither of us knows how many tomorrows we have left”. It’s a scary thought. Imagine you would have only one year to live and all the picture would change completely. Surely you will do the crazy things you always wanted. I always wanted to pursue things differently.
Thirdly, rethink your place in this world. If one’s only working to get money so one can have a better car that would be most probably useless. World won’t progress like that. One won’t progress as a person. My place in this world is not to get A JOB and make SOME MONEY enough to not die of hunger. My place in this world is TO LOVE AND FEEL LOVED, TO SHARE, TO INSPIRE, TO GET WISER, TO ENJOY FREEDOM. To think outside the box how can I be helpful to mankind and start with the people around me. That means TO BE HAPPY and to make others happy.
To be happy means to be free in the first place, to do the things you always wanted. People sacrifice their freedom for money. It’s a vicious cycle. You get a job, you have money, but you don’t have enough time to enjoy other pleasures in life or to spend them wisely – I’m not referring here at going out for a coffee in town, I’m talking about having a free month to go anywhere you want in this world, anytime you want and how many times you want a year. That’s freedom.
I have all the freedom I could ask now. I don’t have to let go of my nice cup of tea every morning in order to hurry to a job. The only thing I need now to complete the picture is the financial freedom. The money. Not the money you work for, the money you make it yourself, the money that work for you. This is probably the most difficult thing I’ll ever do. Fight for it. Think of it. Visualize it. It’s extremely hard as I have to get rid of my “secured job mentality”. Nothing is secured in this life. And the job mentality is somehow still attached to my brain – I’m considering further working in media while doing my own thing. One day I will have the power to escape the job thing.
These days I took a deep plunge. My first company was registered yesterday. It won’t guarantee me the financial freedom I’m seeking now, but it’s a step ahead. I want to train myself for business by starting small. I realized this is the only way I’m going to enjoy my time with my kids in the future and my last years. I’ll never give up on the media world – sooner or later I’ll be back in media with fresh ideas. My ideas. Probably I’ll consider it my next business – one in which I must be very well prepared before the big start. Now I’m prepared to learn. I’m in my learning years.
However, I’m constantly looking at media opportunities and reading about media world in South Africa. I can’t help it. Despite of my difficulties, I know that one day I will be back.
Fortunately, she loved our cute house with garden, just like in fairytales. Dad was always passionate about technology and made sure I’ve got everything I need in place, including the latest software. Since technology is more expensive in this country, I was more than happy. Unlike my mom, dad is always calm and the perfect observer, but that doesn’t mean he’s not involved in my life as much as mom. He knows that I can decide most things for myself. Plus, I’ve got my husband now and together we know we can do anything.
Alice was cool. She’s my youngest sister. We couldn’t stand each other when we were kids, always arguing and perhaps competing against each other. My childhood was very different than hers – I was the outcast, she was the popular. Only in the past years I said to myself that I won’t let this stupid game get me mad anymore. I was quite happy with my life and I began to forget the unwanted part of my past. Today I can say that any of us has her own life and not feel a grudge on each other. She was very nice to me and couldn’t wait to go shopping or swimming together.
I’ve always been the stubborn one and cherished my own moments, but strangely as I find it, I really miss them, even the part with mom nagging me about making the food or the fact that my clothes are not perfectly placed in my wardrobe. Or dad’s support in anything – when I was a kid I always used to ask him for advice, because he could discuss and share his opinion calmly. I realize that, sometimes, I miss his support as well.
What really made me happy was their chance to see me in my new world. I’ve changed a lot, partly because my mentality shifted from the jolly journalist girl who’s committed to her job and gets the money to the survival chick who uses her mind to find ways of improving and growing herself. Changes make you aware of better lives and I strongly believe that.
Apart from seeing the wildlife in Kruger Park, cruising to see the canyon and the magnificent surrounds, spending quiet time at braais or having fancy dinner for my dad’s 52th birthday (which I wanted to be included in their trip) or the nice shopping sprees in Pretoria malls, I couldn’t help having moments asking myself what will happen after their leave? I wasn’t sad, I was just aware of my life and its challenges. The holiday is gone for good.
The truth is that realized that I’ve grown so much to the point that my desires and wishes are very different from my parents’. The next step is not their next move. Their worries are not necessary mine. Finding yourself and ways of living a quality better life was not their main “mantra”. There are some things I’ve learned while standing still in my peaceful garden here in South Africa. And really in that peaceful environment you can touch your thoughts and listen to the voices inside your head – your gut feeling, your inspiration or whatever one may call it.
Firstly, that everything happens for a reason and I’m here in this place for a reason. Perhaps I met Ricky for the same reason. Perhaps my growing route wasn’t there in my country. Maybe the next big thing in my life needed to happen in a new fresh place. Maybe it was the calling for the new adventure of my life.
Secondly, the fact that life needs to be live at its best right now, not tomorrow. When change and opportunity come, it’s best to take it. I could have stayed another 5 years or more in my country, I could have waited more or convince him to take the step, but I simply didn’t. I read in a book a powerful phrase “neither of us knows how many tomorrows we have left”. It’s a scary thought. Imagine you would have only one year to live and all the picture would change completely. Surely you will do the crazy things you always wanted. I always wanted to pursue things differently.
Thirdly, rethink your place in this world. If one’s only working to get money so one can have a better car that would be most probably useless. World won’t progress like that. One won’t progress as a person. My place in this world is not to get A JOB and make SOME MONEY enough to not die of hunger. My place in this world is TO LOVE AND FEEL LOVED, TO SHARE, TO INSPIRE, TO GET WISER, TO ENJOY FREEDOM. To think outside the box how can I be helpful to mankind and start with the people around me. That means TO BE HAPPY and to make others happy.
To be happy means to be free in the first place, to do the things you always wanted. People sacrifice their freedom for money. It’s a vicious cycle. You get a job, you have money, but you don’t have enough time to enjoy other pleasures in life or to spend them wisely – I’m not referring here at going out for a coffee in town, I’m talking about having a free month to go anywhere you want in this world, anytime you want and how many times you want a year. That’s freedom.
I have all the freedom I could ask now. I don’t have to let go of my nice cup of tea every morning in order to hurry to a job. The only thing I need now to complete the picture is the financial freedom. The money. Not the money you work for, the money you make it yourself, the money that work for you. This is probably the most difficult thing I’ll ever do. Fight for it. Think of it. Visualize it. It’s extremely hard as I have to get rid of my “secured job mentality”. Nothing is secured in this life. And the job mentality is somehow still attached to my brain – I’m considering further working in media while doing my own thing. One day I will have the power to escape the job thing.
These days I took a deep plunge. My first company was registered yesterday. It won’t guarantee me the financial freedom I’m seeking now, but it’s a step ahead. I want to train myself for business by starting small. I realized this is the only way I’m going to enjoy my time with my kids in the future and my last years. I’ll never give up on the media world – sooner or later I’ll be back in media with fresh ideas. My ideas. Probably I’ll consider it my next business – one in which I must be very well prepared before the big start. Now I’m prepared to learn. I’m in my learning years.
However, I’m constantly looking at media opportunities and reading about media world in South Africa. I can’t help it. Despite of my difficulties, I know that one day I will be back.
Monday, 06 April 2009
Getaway
I find the part of “rebuilding my life” extremely difficult. As I said before, I was too much blinded by the Love thing than actually thinking what the hell should I do here. I thought everything would be a piece of cake. Hmmm..
However, there is one big gain to it, except looking at my wonderful husband’s pretty face every morning while cuddling: I’ve given up my previous life, but I gained a more “outdoor-ish” perspective. When you live in a big city, having big money to go out, the best car or the best pair of shoes are part of the show, but here, in Pretoria, apart from the nightlife or shopping where you can show your sexy side – and your wallet - there is more than meets the eye though.
Since I’ve been here, every weekend brings me sides of life I never knew before. First, it’s the braais, quite often but so not boring. People have the same energy every time, they’re discussing various topics at a nice roasted meal. In February we had a special Valentine’s Day with Johan and his wife Anel. We decided on a braai on the Pretoria’s university sports grounds, away from the hearts and valentines and shopping sprees (well, I must admit I gave my Ricky a Valentine – just to have some fun).
Then, for the first time in my life, I went fishing in the next weekends, each time discovering another lake – they call them dams over here. I was introduced to this “fishy experience” by one of Ricky’s best mates, Andre, who loves his outdoor escapes and is clearly a fan of boating and fishing, otherwise he wouldn’t have that collection of colourful baits.
However, I wasn’t so quick at catching my pray at Roodeplaat Dam, but away from Pretoria, at Valkop Dam, I finally had my revenge and posed next to my victim – small fish, but at least now I know I can fish – an ambitious goal for a lady – should I mention that I was the only girl there? Clearly, the other girlfriends and wives don’t embrace fishing as I do. The truth is, I’m almost always the only girl among the guys, but I can’t complain here. Guys are funny.
Last weekend we had Ryn, my brother in law and Rick’s younger brother, coming to visit us in Pretoria. He’s only twenty and stays with my in-laws in Ngodwana, a small residential area at 50 km from Nelspruit. We went out for a lavish meal at The Dros, a restaurant that looks more like a wine cellar, dark but in the same time warm and intimate – must be the candles on the table and the huge antique lamps. Then, drinks at Billy the Bum’s, a hip club where the music itself is a crowd pleaser, not only the cocktails, was the perfect choice for a Friday night. Needless to say, a braai was on the list too. What could be more South African when someone pops at your door?
But this weekend reminded me of my first weeks here in late December. Ricky felt the urge to gamble again – this time not in Nelspruit, but at Emperor’s Palace, a place that brings together fine restaurants, entertainment areas and of course, a huge casino you won’t want to leave any sooner. And that’s because you always find in your pocket some money to start with.
Firstly, let me assure you that we’re not big fans of gambling. We just like to go home with a profit from while to while – the chances are bigger anyway than getting that promotion and extra money after begging your boss. If we break-even and even get an extra cash, we just stop and cash it right away. There’s no point in being stubborn and play until you lose everything or even play thousands. I wouldn’t bare the loss of thousands – imagine how many pairs of boots or bags I could have bought instead with that money.
So, we just played 300 rands, which means around 25 euros. Luckily, we are enough cautious and lucky to multiply them by gambling on colour more than numbers. We doubled the initial investment and, although I wanted to reach 1000 rands, Ricky said it’s time to cash our 700. Most of it will go for savings, of course, he said, while I was imagining myself with new high-heels. But I know savings would be a better option for us.
You see, all this leads to the money issue. We are rich, comparing to 90% of African population who lives on under one dollar a day. Put like that, I can’t complain – I think I’m not allowed to when I know there are a lot of souls dying of hunger. We have food on our tables, we have a place to stay – although rented, but not everyone can afford even this small cozy house – we have a warm bed to sleep in. We are grateful for that.
A detailed look at our finances would just scream for more. Bills are paid successfully, but then you can’t just agree with the level of savings. It’s like any worker’s worst nightmare, supposing he has to pay alone his bills. When I was working for Wall-Street, the money were just used for spending and savings, so I couldn’t complain, but if I had to pay the bills, instead of receiving my parents’ help, that would have been a different picture.
So here we are, Ricky working his ass to cover our standard living requirements, while I’m responsible for buying food, furniture for home and some entertainment treats or getaways from the money I brought with me – my cushion so far.
However, my cushion is not a “never-ending story”. Which is why I feel guilty whenever I shop for clothes or beauty products. I mean, guilt and pleasure. Don’t cast stones at me, I’m not trying to give that impression of having millions in my account (well, maybe a bit), I just like to indulge myself in treats once in a while – read monthly instead of while.
I’m not shopping as often as I do, but when I hit the stores, I can’t just go home empty-handed. I’ve invested so far in a black sexy LBD (I already had one, but who cares), a nice black waistcoat – so versatile, you can get a sharp look in no time and jeans. Oooh, yeees, did I mention the M.A.C Hello Kitty Limited Edition range? I’ve almost got the entire collection – I would have got it all if it wasn’t for those “sold out” items. I knew I had to get it.
I’ve spent more than half an hour at the M.A.C counter savoring the beautiful colours and textures. I even got friendly with Peaceful, the funky black make-up artist who convinced me quite easily how fab the eye shadows complement my olive skin. Clearly, Peaceful deserves his name – he’s so calm and patient with every shopaholic lady who thinks the cute pink Hello Kitty lipstick is a must-have this season. Yes, it is!
Peaceful thinks I look beautiful. In fact, that’s his job. But he is firmly convinced that Romanian girls are hot. It’s a fact even here, in South Africa. “Thanks man, I’ll meet my husband later!” I said to my Peaceful guy, who was clearly more a Will Smith type of man – only bit darker- with nice features and braided hair hidden under a cap that looked most like a French beret.
I knew I shouldn’t have said that. What about the flirting, man? Just kidding. The world needs to know that I’m married and my husband is hot – the ring helps me a lot. People don’t even wait for me to say it – they look down to my hands – that’s why I have to get perfect French manicure all the time – and ask, some with sadness in their voices, “are you married?” Well “yeeeeees” and I know I can’t get any more flirting than that. But seriously, I don’t mind, I’ve got my husband to get cheeky with.
So, shopping is my other getaway from reality and it feels nice when it lasts longer. At home, guilt comes for a while, but when I try my new “conquests” I know it was worth every penny. And I even convinced Ricky to see “Confessions of A Shopaholic” with me, just to shout at him “see, it can be worse, I don’t even have credit cards and I will never use that anyway to pay for clothes”. But I must say I liked the main character – at least she was honest with herself in the end.
But still, money must be spent cautious – can’t replace it now so easily. Which bring us to the next question I’m trying to find an answer since I’ve got here: “Why don’t you get a job?”.
However, there is one big gain to it, except looking at my wonderful husband’s pretty face every morning while cuddling: I’ve given up my previous life, but I gained a more “outdoor-ish” perspective. When you live in a big city, having big money to go out, the best car or the best pair of shoes are part of the show, but here, in Pretoria, apart from the nightlife or shopping where you can show your sexy side – and your wallet - there is more than meets the eye though.
Since I’ve been here, every weekend brings me sides of life I never knew before. First, it’s the braais, quite often but so not boring. People have the same energy every time, they’re discussing various topics at a nice roasted meal. In February we had a special Valentine’s Day with Johan and his wife Anel. We decided on a braai on the Pretoria’s university sports grounds, away from the hearts and valentines and shopping sprees (well, I must admit I gave my Ricky a Valentine – just to have some fun).
Then, for the first time in my life, I went fishing in the next weekends, each time discovering another lake – they call them dams over here. I was introduced to this “fishy experience” by one of Ricky’s best mates, Andre, who loves his outdoor escapes and is clearly a fan of boating and fishing, otherwise he wouldn’t have that collection of colourful baits.
However, I wasn’t so quick at catching my pray at Roodeplaat Dam, but away from Pretoria, at Valkop Dam, I finally had my revenge and posed next to my victim – small fish, but at least now I know I can fish – an ambitious goal for a lady – should I mention that I was the only girl there? Clearly, the other girlfriends and wives don’t embrace fishing as I do. The truth is, I’m almost always the only girl among the guys, but I can’t complain here. Guys are funny.
Last weekend we had Ryn, my brother in law and Rick’s younger brother, coming to visit us in Pretoria. He’s only twenty and stays with my in-laws in Ngodwana, a small residential area at 50 km from Nelspruit. We went out for a lavish meal at The Dros, a restaurant that looks more like a wine cellar, dark but in the same time warm and intimate – must be the candles on the table and the huge antique lamps. Then, drinks at Billy the Bum’s, a hip club where the music itself is a crowd pleaser, not only the cocktails, was the perfect choice for a Friday night. Needless to say, a braai was on the list too. What could be more South African when someone pops at your door?
But this weekend reminded me of my first weeks here in late December. Ricky felt the urge to gamble again – this time not in Nelspruit, but at Emperor’s Palace, a place that brings together fine restaurants, entertainment areas and of course, a huge casino you won’t want to leave any sooner. And that’s because you always find in your pocket some money to start with.
Firstly, let me assure you that we’re not big fans of gambling. We just like to go home with a profit from while to while – the chances are bigger anyway than getting that promotion and extra money after begging your boss. If we break-even and even get an extra cash, we just stop and cash it right away. There’s no point in being stubborn and play until you lose everything or even play thousands. I wouldn’t bare the loss of thousands – imagine how many pairs of boots or bags I could have bought instead with that money.
So, we just played 300 rands, which means around 25 euros. Luckily, we are enough cautious and lucky to multiply them by gambling on colour more than numbers. We doubled the initial investment and, although I wanted to reach 1000 rands, Ricky said it’s time to cash our 700. Most of it will go for savings, of course, he said, while I was imagining myself with new high-heels. But I know savings would be a better option for us.
You see, all this leads to the money issue. We are rich, comparing to 90% of African population who lives on under one dollar a day. Put like that, I can’t complain – I think I’m not allowed to when I know there are a lot of souls dying of hunger. We have food on our tables, we have a place to stay – although rented, but not everyone can afford even this small cozy house – we have a warm bed to sleep in. We are grateful for that.
A detailed look at our finances would just scream for more. Bills are paid successfully, but then you can’t just agree with the level of savings. It’s like any worker’s worst nightmare, supposing he has to pay alone his bills. When I was working for Wall-Street, the money were just used for spending and savings, so I couldn’t complain, but if I had to pay the bills, instead of receiving my parents’ help, that would have been a different picture.
So here we are, Ricky working his ass to cover our standard living requirements, while I’m responsible for buying food, furniture for home and some entertainment treats or getaways from the money I brought with me – my cushion so far.
However, my cushion is not a “never-ending story”. Which is why I feel guilty whenever I shop for clothes or beauty products. I mean, guilt and pleasure. Don’t cast stones at me, I’m not trying to give that impression of having millions in my account (well, maybe a bit), I just like to indulge myself in treats once in a while – read monthly instead of while.
I’m not shopping as often as I do, but when I hit the stores, I can’t just go home empty-handed. I’ve invested so far in a black sexy LBD (I already had one, but who cares), a nice black waistcoat – so versatile, you can get a sharp look in no time and jeans. Oooh, yeees, did I mention the M.A.C Hello Kitty Limited Edition range? I’ve almost got the entire collection – I would have got it all if it wasn’t for those “sold out” items. I knew I had to get it.
I’ve spent more than half an hour at the M.A.C counter savoring the beautiful colours and textures. I even got friendly with Peaceful, the funky black make-up artist who convinced me quite easily how fab the eye shadows complement my olive skin. Clearly, Peaceful deserves his name – he’s so calm and patient with every shopaholic lady who thinks the cute pink Hello Kitty lipstick is a must-have this season. Yes, it is!
Peaceful thinks I look beautiful. In fact, that’s his job. But he is firmly convinced that Romanian girls are hot. It’s a fact even here, in South Africa. “Thanks man, I’ll meet my husband later!” I said to my Peaceful guy, who was clearly more a Will Smith type of man – only bit darker- with nice features and braided hair hidden under a cap that looked most like a French beret.
I knew I shouldn’t have said that. What about the flirting, man? Just kidding. The world needs to know that I’m married and my husband is hot – the ring helps me a lot. People don’t even wait for me to say it – they look down to my hands – that’s why I have to get perfect French manicure all the time – and ask, some with sadness in their voices, “are you married?” Well “yeeeeees” and I know I can’t get any more flirting than that. But seriously, I don’t mind, I’ve got my husband to get cheeky with.
So, shopping is my other getaway from reality and it feels nice when it lasts longer. At home, guilt comes for a while, but when I try my new “conquests” I know it was worth every penny. And I even convinced Ricky to see “Confessions of A Shopaholic” with me, just to shout at him “see, it can be worse, I don’t even have credit cards and I will never use that anyway to pay for clothes”. But I must say I liked the main character – at least she was honest with herself in the end.
But still, money must be spent cautious – can’t replace it now so easily. Which bring us to the next question I’m trying to find an answer since I’ve got here: “Why don’t you get a job?”.
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
Butterfly
Sometimes I feel like I want my previous life back, I want to wake up in my bed in Bucharest, looking on the window to the neighboring grey block of flats, take a quick shower, dress ready for office, eat some eggs and make me a milk with chocolate cup and catch the underground for the next thirty minutes to get to my workplace. Workplace is not the correct word here, I’ve always liked that office and my work was, at most times, creative, fun and different every day. Writing was my life – and still is- for some reasons I won’t ever understand completely. I was born to be a writer.
My journey to South Africa is then a crazy loop - how could I gave up that writing? I mean, I had a nice life, a nice job – maybe not the best, but still nice. And money wasn’t ever an issue. The social scene was there too – either going out with some of my friends journalist or hang out at events and press conferences, meeting new people.
But there must have been a feeling of loneliness that. Yes, that feeling when you want to have a walk in the park with your lover beside you and you can’t. That feeling when you want to be kissed – I just love the kissing part- and you can’t. Not because you don’t have someone to long for, I so dislike the idea of not having a partner, but just because he is physically in the other part of the world, thinking and waiting for you.
I guess it was meant to happen to me, after all. I always complicate my life and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit still in one place and watch the years pass by, until I find myself too old for this journalism, too old for the city buzzing nightlife, too old for any of my getaway thoughts. I am a butterfly, looking for new flowers to sit on – if you cage me, then you might just kill my dreams. And I dream a lot, you know, but South Africa wasn’t even close to my dreams until I met Rick.
I’m still reading “Eat, Pray, Love”. I think at this point it has a strange influence on myself. I’m perceiving divinity differently now, more than just a bigger soul that must be there in order to make sure I won’t follow the darkness paths of existence. Yet, I think I have found my true God and that is Love. It must be Love, if not what the hell I am doing here? In the pursuit of God, it is said to abandon your everyday habits with the hope that something greater will be handed to you in return for the things you’ve given up, like my life before South Africa. But, sadly to say, I wasn’t searching for a God, my God has already shown to me in the most difficult periods of my life – when I felt that nobody cares about me during my school years, He would simply say “Ignore it, you will finish it soon and you’ll have a wonderful life, you’ll meet people who really understand you”. He was right. When I was at university, in need of someone to love me right then and there, I stumbled on the wrong people. God used to say then “He’s not the right for you” and for a while I really felt that my choices are so wrong, that I myself needed a change. Hence the Internship to London, in search for a different breath of air – with no boys hunting whatsoever. But then it happened to me. God said “Go on, go with him, you’ll be safe”. I never had even the slightest thought of being uncomfortable in the presence of that cute strange whom I ran from the club with to make a hot night to remember even now, after three years.
God was right again. He’s always right. In just a couple of days, the stranger became Ricky, my South African boyfriend and it was easy and right to fall in love for this guy. My love quest was finally solved, without even asking for it. But then, what will happen when I return home? It was always the sad question while I was in London. Mom said “Don’t get too attached”, I still remember her words when phoning me while I was taking the double-decker bus back to my place. But God said “Go on, you’ll be fine, you don’t have anything to worry about, he loves you”. And God was in my mind all these years, telling me that it’s ok to wait, that I shouldn’t give up my love now, that he is the right man I need in my life. For most people, seeing your partner just three times in almost three years, for short periods of time and then spend your time waiting, waiting, waiting, chatting everyday before bedtime to wipe your tears of your face, must be a painful, unwanted experience and totally crazy. For me it was one of the hardest things and also one of the sweetest thing I’ve ever done. All in the name of Love.
So God is in my Love for Ricky. I found Him at last and I wasn’t even trying that hard. No ethereal experiences, no praying for hours, not even a trip to an Indian Ashram. For me, God is all in my mind and I can access Him whenever I want. Right now, when I wonder how long I will be that nostalgic and jobless, with a feeling of being useless to human kind? And He says “You have found what you were looking for. You have a wonderful new life, place to stay, eat and sleep and a husband who adores you and you adore him as much as he does. What do you need more? You found Love. You found it far from home, I know, but you found it. Wasn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that the only thing that counts after all, when you know that one day you will no longer exist on this earth and you will think back at your greatest accomplishments?”
He is right again. My solely desire in this world was to be loved, appreciated for what I am, told that I can do whatever I want or that I can handle everything. And not being compared with anyone else. Not a strange girl, who liked to write for ever since she learn how to do it, who was seen and told to be anti-social, a crybaby and not like the “others” or not even like her sister. Where was the Love then? It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me, maybe because they didn’t know how to express that better in words. But I don’t blame anybody here. Once I began my quest for Love, I felt stronger and I made my own decision. My God said to me that its time to move on, so I never looked back when it was time to leave my family, my country and my job. “Go ahead, it will be fine. I will take care of you. Ricky will take care of you. You are wanted there.” Again, he is right. My leaving was easy and no hard-feeling. I couldn’t believe it. Most people won’t ever leave their country like that, or their family, and go and live in other country, a country you only seen in TV documentaries and a mere month two years ago on a visit. Most people are afraid of losing their jobs. Most people, except the ones who are now in the search for Love, won’t understand. But the ones who do – “how sweet”, they say, are the ones who truly know me, what matters to me right now. It might be sad to say it, but it’s worth it a million times. I’ve come in the right place to build my memories, with the right man at, the right time. Although it’s extremely hard to build a new life, I admit it.
My journey to South Africa is then a crazy loop - how could I gave up that writing? I mean, I had a nice life, a nice job – maybe not the best, but still nice. And money wasn’t ever an issue. The social scene was there too – either going out with some of my friends journalist or hang out at events and press conferences, meeting new people.
But there must have been a feeling of loneliness that. Yes, that feeling when you want to have a walk in the park with your lover beside you and you can’t. That feeling when you want to be kissed – I just love the kissing part- and you can’t. Not because you don’t have someone to long for, I so dislike the idea of not having a partner, but just because he is physically in the other part of the world, thinking and waiting for you.
I guess it was meant to happen to me, after all. I always complicate my life and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit still in one place and watch the years pass by, until I find myself too old for this journalism, too old for the city buzzing nightlife, too old for any of my getaway thoughts. I am a butterfly, looking for new flowers to sit on – if you cage me, then you might just kill my dreams. And I dream a lot, you know, but South Africa wasn’t even close to my dreams until I met Rick.
I’m still reading “Eat, Pray, Love”. I think at this point it has a strange influence on myself. I’m perceiving divinity differently now, more than just a bigger soul that must be there in order to make sure I won’t follow the darkness paths of existence. Yet, I think I have found my true God and that is Love. It must be Love, if not what the hell I am doing here? In the pursuit of God, it is said to abandon your everyday habits with the hope that something greater will be handed to you in return for the things you’ve given up, like my life before South Africa. But, sadly to say, I wasn’t searching for a God, my God has already shown to me in the most difficult periods of my life – when I felt that nobody cares about me during my school years, He would simply say “Ignore it, you will finish it soon and you’ll have a wonderful life, you’ll meet people who really understand you”. He was right. When I was at university, in need of someone to love me right then and there, I stumbled on the wrong people. God used to say then “He’s not the right for you” and for a while I really felt that my choices are so wrong, that I myself needed a change. Hence the Internship to London, in search for a different breath of air – with no boys hunting whatsoever. But then it happened to me. God said “Go on, go with him, you’ll be safe”. I never had even the slightest thought of being uncomfortable in the presence of that cute strange whom I ran from the club with to make a hot night to remember even now, after three years.
God was right again. He’s always right. In just a couple of days, the stranger became Ricky, my South African boyfriend and it was easy and right to fall in love for this guy. My love quest was finally solved, without even asking for it. But then, what will happen when I return home? It was always the sad question while I was in London. Mom said “Don’t get too attached”, I still remember her words when phoning me while I was taking the double-decker bus back to my place. But God said “Go on, you’ll be fine, you don’t have anything to worry about, he loves you”. And God was in my mind all these years, telling me that it’s ok to wait, that I shouldn’t give up my love now, that he is the right man I need in my life. For most people, seeing your partner just three times in almost three years, for short periods of time and then spend your time waiting, waiting, waiting, chatting everyday before bedtime to wipe your tears of your face, must be a painful, unwanted experience and totally crazy. For me it was one of the hardest things and also one of the sweetest thing I’ve ever done. All in the name of Love.
So God is in my Love for Ricky. I found Him at last and I wasn’t even trying that hard. No ethereal experiences, no praying for hours, not even a trip to an Indian Ashram. For me, God is all in my mind and I can access Him whenever I want. Right now, when I wonder how long I will be that nostalgic and jobless, with a feeling of being useless to human kind? And He says “You have found what you were looking for. You have a wonderful new life, place to stay, eat and sleep and a husband who adores you and you adore him as much as he does. What do you need more? You found Love. You found it far from home, I know, but you found it. Wasn’t that what you wanted? Wasn’t that the only thing that counts after all, when you know that one day you will no longer exist on this earth and you will think back at your greatest accomplishments?”
He is right again. My solely desire in this world was to be loved, appreciated for what I am, told that I can do whatever I want or that I can handle everything. And not being compared with anyone else. Not a strange girl, who liked to write for ever since she learn how to do it, who was seen and told to be anti-social, a crybaby and not like the “others” or not even like her sister. Where was the Love then? It wasn’t that my parents didn’t love me, maybe because they didn’t know how to express that better in words. But I don’t blame anybody here. Once I began my quest for Love, I felt stronger and I made my own decision. My God said to me that its time to move on, so I never looked back when it was time to leave my family, my country and my job. “Go ahead, it will be fine. I will take care of you. Ricky will take care of you. You are wanted there.” Again, he is right. My leaving was easy and no hard-feeling. I couldn’t believe it. Most people won’t ever leave their country like that, or their family, and go and live in other country, a country you only seen in TV documentaries and a mere month two years ago on a visit. Most people are afraid of losing their jobs. Most people, except the ones who are now in the search for Love, won’t understand. But the ones who do – “how sweet”, they say, are the ones who truly know me, what matters to me right now. It might be sad to say it, but it’s worth it a million times. I’ve come in the right place to build my memories, with the right man at, the right time. Although it’s extremely hard to build a new life, I admit it.
Sunday, 08 March 2009
The gourmet South Africa
I was raised to eat quite a lot, three times per day, grandma’s divine food. When I moved to university, in Bucharest, I had to cook for myself from the first year so I learned the basics as roasted chicken legs with rice, fries or vegetable, boiled or fried eggs and lots of pasta in different sauces. When I landed the job in my third year, I skipped the lunch part – already made sandwiches, salads and Snack Attack’s decadent chocolate mousse were the substitute. I lost some weight, partly because I enjoyed going to gym every week, but I put some back on during my last weeks at Wall-Street, in November last year. My gym subscription expired – as I was using the gym as the university’s student and I was no longer a student – in fact, I graduated last year, July.
I had to rethink my diet here, in South Africa. I mean, rethink with big R, as I stepped in the country of outdoor braais, boerewors and red meat. Not to mention the traditional dry meat, biltong and drywors (dry sausages). That is, camping loving people who don’t stress that much about food (sorry mom, can’t cook big meals three times a day). Their relationship with food is simple – eat to live, not live to eat – but I must say that it can turn to be vice-versa for me, as the food is rather delicious than just simple – maybe that’s why I feel I’ve caught extra weight sometimes.
I started to cook more often, mostly oven bakes, while Ricky remained in charge of making the fire for the braai and wait for the meat to be ready. First let me introduce you in the world of the braai. South Africans are an outdoor nation who love their braais – to remind yourself, that’s how you say barbeque in Afrikaans. Most of all they like to have their sausages, boerewors, right on the grill, together with chicken, beef or pork – spicy versions are common, as chilli and curry can be found as quick as you say it – Indian influences, of course.
Then there’s the side salads (greek, beetroot, corn etc) – I usually make them, whether for us or to bring it at a friend’s braai, and the baked potatoes – the sweet potatoes, called patats, are killer and I must say I prefer them to the old fashioned potatoes everybody cooks. And since the British had a huge impact on South Africa’s development (and cuisine), a garlic bread is always welcomed. As it is bacon and scrambled eggs in the weekend mornings, when I got the chance to cook with my husband. I absolutely love these moments. So far for the braai.
I must confess that I even don’t eat that much fries any more and I choose salads or fish when we go out for dinner. The only decadence I won’t ever give up is big steaks, T-bone steaks to be exact. However, I still cook pasta and rice like I used to do in Romania and vegetables have become VIPs, with stir-fry or veggie bakes among my favourites.
But I truly indulge myself in sushi, shrimps, mussels and snails, as they come quite affordable in restaurants – I’m thinking now of Ocean Basket, where they serve only delicious seafood and where sushi rolls or the traditional British fish and chips can be tasted for as little as 3 euro. The yummy shrimps and buttery rice are oh-so heavenly, but I guess I shouldn’t make you craving for food now. Did I mention the flavour of the hot grilled oceanic fish called snoek? I guess not.My only point was to stress out that South Africans really enjoy their traditional foods, the same way we do about polenta (mamaliga in Romanian) and fresh cottage cheese with cream.
I had to rethink my diet here, in South Africa. I mean, rethink with big R, as I stepped in the country of outdoor braais, boerewors and red meat. Not to mention the traditional dry meat, biltong and drywors (dry sausages). That is, camping loving people who don’t stress that much about food (sorry mom, can’t cook big meals three times a day). Their relationship with food is simple – eat to live, not live to eat – but I must say that it can turn to be vice-versa for me, as the food is rather delicious than just simple – maybe that’s why I feel I’ve caught extra weight sometimes.
I started to cook more often, mostly oven bakes, while Ricky remained in charge of making the fire for the braai and wait for the meat to be ready. First let me introduce you in the world of the braai. South Africans are an outdoor nation who love their braais – to remind yourself, that’s how you say barbeque in Afrikaans. Most of all they like to have their sausages, boerewors, right on the grill, together with chicken, beef or pork – spicy versions are common, as chilli and curry can be found as quick as you say it – Indian influences, of course.
Then there’s the side salads (greek, beetroot, corn etc) – I usually make them, whether for us or to bring it at a friend’s braai, and the baked potatoes – the sweet potatoes, called patats, are killer and I must say I prefer them to the old fashioned potatoes everybody cooks. And since the British had a huge impact on South Africa’s development (and cuisine), a garlic bread is always welcomed. As it is bacon and scrambled eggs in the weekend mornings, when I got the chance to cook with my husband. I absolutely love these moments. So far for the braai.
I must confess that I even don’t eat that much fries any more and I choose salads or fish when we go out for dinner. The only decadence I won’t ever give up is big steaks, T-bone steaks to be exact. However, I still cook pasta and rice like I used to do in Romania and vegetables have become VIPs, with stir-fry or veggie bakes among my favourites.
But I truly indulge myself in sushi, shrimps, mussels and snails, as they come quite affordable in restaurants – I’m thinking now of Ocean Basket, where they serve only delicious seafood and where sushi rolls or the traditional British fish and chips can be tasted for as little as 3 euro. The yummy shrimps and buttery rice are oh-so heavenly, but I guess I shouldn’t make you craving for food now. Did I mention the flavour of the hot grilled oceanic fish called snoek? I guess not.My only point was to stress out that South Africans really enjoy their traditional foods, the same way we do about polenta (mamaliga in Romanian) and fresh cottage cheese with cream.
Soul searching
I’ve been thinking quite a lot about my new life lately. Ricky had to go back to work after our short holiday together – but for me holiday was still a way of living. At least, until I get my temporary residence permit, that’s what I thought.
I was somehow resembling with the character of the best-seller Eat, Pray, Love (which I’m reading now, by the way), Liz, in pursuit of her happiness, the only difference being that she ran from her past, a messy divorce and a broken relationship, in three different places: Italy, India and Indonesia, each for three months.
I don’t want to go further with any details and absolve you from the pure pleasure of reading– better read the book, it’s quite good stuff- but her inspirational journey seeking pleasure, devotion and balance in life can be as well mine. I’m not trying to push away my past by embracing life in South Africa, nor to forget what it feels like to walk in the busy center of Bucharest and the few stressful days at work. Strictly said, I’m not her with the purpose of rediscovering myself, but to create a new life together with my husband. So I guess the pleasure ride is solved by now.
However, each day I’m spending here in South Africa gets me closer to redefining myself in ways I didn’t know they existed before. It is not a three months experiment as Liz may find herself in, it is in fact a life. My life. Two months have already passed since I’m here. If I had to describe them, I would say a mix of love, pleasure, freedom, discovery, anxiety, sadness, restless. I can’t say anything of devotion, except that I’ve been really blessed with a loving husband, a marriage I really dreamed of and a cozy place to live. If God hears me now, thank you for caring about me, right now, somewhere in South Africa.
And perhaps God wanted to give me the most precious gift of all, after life – freedom. Because, since I’m there, my life has turned into a laid-back, continuously – Where are we going tonight? question or What books shall I read today? I got plenty of time now for the sweet pleasures in life – books, movies and playing games –scrabble- are almost everyday entertainment. I can feel growing this side of playfulness inside me, seeing time as my funny best pal sometimes, mostly when I and Ricky escape from the confort of our homes to join friends at a braai or having drinks at Eastwoods or Livingstone’s.
I know the next day I’ll wake up lazy as always –sometimes I do wake up even at 7am to read a book- and think about what should I cook for breakfast, what should I wear on and where should I go today, as my car, a bright white BMW 320d, model 2002 (Ricky spoils me a lot, I know) quietly waits for me in the garage. We decided on getting a second car, besides his 2 seated Opel Corsa bakkie, to afford going out while he’s working and later on, in April, taking all my family out in town in a 5 seated car, where there’s enough room for everybody.
Let’s just say that it’s more than a luxury now – it’s a necessity purely given the fact that in South Africa there’s no public transport like most of Europe – no underground whatsoever. Mostly, the taxis are scarce and the big ones resemble the maxi-taxi of Romania – more like a small bus with maximum 20 seats. The only difference is that blacks take it – I think there’s a chance of one to billion to see a white guy jumping on that taxis. I couldn’t care less now, as they are extremely dangerous (most accidents in South Africa involve such taxis) and a no-no for those who can afford a decent car.
What about trains then? I have seen rail tracks, but few trains whatsoever. The only trains I can think of now are the fancy ones perfectly for tourists to discover the country from Johannesburg to Cape Town or far east to Durban, on the shore of Indian Ocean. But again, I reckon that the prices are not for the faint hearted, as I’m talking about luxury trains – tourism is one of the best known industries here, anyway.
Besides of solving my transport problem in mid-January, I’ve been lucky enough to solve my “loneliness during the day” problem, while Ricky was at work. Christelle and Lizzelle gave me the perfect excuse – a white bundle of fur which I named Snowflake – quite a cute name for a one month white cat, isn’t it? Snowflake is now three months old and her playfulness reminds me of my black cat I’ve sadly left in Bucharest, Pisi.
I haven’t seen Pisi growing up under my eyes, as I was busy with work back then from 9 to 5. Now I experience this beautiful thing with Snowflake – she gets to sit on my lap for hours, I hear her purring in the morning while she tries to put her claws in my hair – she likes that- and I know I’m not going everywhere to leave her home for a long time – perhaps a half an hour at the shops or maybe two if I feel like going to a mall. But shopping isn’t really my big thing now.
I can’t believe how much I changed when it comes to shopping, that is every girl shopping on clothes, bags, shoes and accessories. I used to be a big spender in Bucharest - shopping was like the usual way to spend weekends and even weekdays. Now, with all the summer clothes brought with me and some pairs of shoes, I don’t feel the need of adding extra weight to my wardrobe. I got some pairs of sandals, a dark jeans and two flirty tops and that says it all. Maybe it’s time for a new session soon.
The real “problem” here is that I learned to spare myself of financial problems now. Budgeting was like Chinese to me, now I’m making efforts to save for buying furniture and electrical equipment for home and make sure we have enough food on the table. Ricky is the only one working now so I feel terribly guilty at times. That’s my main concern – getting a job, launching a business, find ways to multiply my brought in money from Romania.
I know it won’t be easy, but I never thought it will be that hard or that I’ll miss so much my years as a business journalist, my colleagues at Wall-Street, the online newspaper I used to work at for almost two years of my Bucharest life. I must admit, I really miss those times, I want to wake up in Bucharest sometimes, I want to go to office and gossip with my favourite girls, write articles, go for press conferences at the Hilton and snap on my way the delicious French croissants made in heaven (that is French Bakery).
“Wake up now, you’re in sunny South Africa. You have so much to give and explore”, I convince myself. My boundaries are widening, I’m no longer that girl who comes home from work, jumps in front of TV and surfs the net every night until 1am. I actually have the laid-back life I craved for, with enough time to read, go out with my lover (I couldn’t go out so often in Bucharest, partly because everyone was busy with their mate, while my boyfriend was 10.000km away, smiling from a frozen webcam) and experimenting with food – that is, if you remember Liz I told you about, her real pleasure in Italy, food.
I was somehow resembling with the character of the best-seller Eat, Pray, Love (which I’m reading now, by the way), Liz, in pursuit of her happiness, the only difference being that she ran from her past, a messy divorce and a broken relationship, in three different places: Italy, India and Indonesia, each for three months.
I don’t want to go further with any details and absolve you from the pure pleasure of reading– better read the book, it’s quite good stuff- but her inspirational journey seeking pleasure, devotion and balance in life can be as well mine. I’m not trying to push away my past by embracing life in South Africa, nor to forget what it feels like to walk in the busy center of Bucharest and the few stressful days at work. Strictly said, I’m not her with the purpose of rediscovering myself, but to create a new life together with my husband. So I guess the pleasure ride is solved by now.
However, each day I’m spending here in South Africa gets me closer to redefining myself in ways I didn’t know they existed before. It is not a three months experiment as Liz may find herself in, it is in fact a life. My life. Two months have already passed since I’m here. If I had to describe them, I would say a mix of love, pleasure, freedom, discovery, anxiety, sadness, restless. I can’t say anything of devotion, except that I’ve been really blessed with a loving husband, a marriage I really dreamed of and a cozy place to live. If God hears me now, thank you for caring about me, right now, somewhere in South Africa.
And perhaps God wanted to give me the most precious gift of all, after life – freedom. Because, since I’m there, my life has turned into a laid-back, continuously – Where are we going tonight? question or What books shall I read today? I got plenty of time now for the sweet pleasures in life – books, movies and playing games –scrabble- are almost everyday entertainment. I can feel growing this side of playfulness inside me, seeing time as my funny best pal sometimes, mostly when I and Ricky escape from the confort of our homes to join friends at a braai or having drinks at Eastwoods or Livingstone’s.
I know the next day I’ll wake up lazy as always –sometimes I do wake up even at 7am to read a book- and think about what should I cook for breakfast, what should I wear on and where should I go today, as my car, a bright white BMW 320d, model 2002 (Ricky spoils me a lot, I know) quietly waits for me in the garage. We decided on getting a second car, besides his 2 seated Opel Corsa bakkie, to afford going out while he’s working and later on, in April, taking all my family out in town in a 5 seated car, where there’s enough room for everybody.
Let’s just say that it’s more than a luxury now – it’s a necessity purely given the fact that in South Africa there’s no public transport like most of Europe – no underground whatsoever. Mostly, the taxis are scarce and the big ones resemble the maxi-taxi of Romania – more like a small bus with maximum 20 seats. The only difference is that blacks take it – I think there’s a chance of one to billion to see a white guy jumping on that taxis. I couldn’t care less now, as they are extremely dangerous (most accidents in South Africa involve such taxis) and a no-no for those who can afford a decent car.
What about trains then? I have seen rail tracks, but few trains whatsoever. The only trains I can think of now are the fancy ones perfectly for tourists to discover the country from Johannesburg to Cape Town or far east to Durban, on the shore of Indian Ocean. But again, I reckon that the prices are not for the faint hearted, as I’m talking about luxury trains – tourism is one of the best known industries here, anyway.
Besides of solving my transport problem in mid-January, I’ve been lucky enough to solve my “loneliness during the day” problem, while Ricky was at work. Christelle and Lizzelle gave me the perfect excuse – a white bundle of fur which I named Snowflake – quite a cute name for a one month white cat, isn’t it? Snowflake is now three months old and her playfulness reminds me of my black cat I’ve sadly left in Bucharest, Pisi.
I haven’t seen Pisi growing up under my eyes, as I was busy with work back then from 9 to 5. Now I experience this beautiful thing with Snowflake – she gets to sit on my lap for hours, I hear her purring in the morning while she tries to put her claws in my hair – she likes that- and I know I’m not going everywhere to leave her home for a long time – perhaps a half an hour at the shops or maybe two if I feel like going to a mall. But shopping isn’t really my big thing now.
I can’t believe how much I changed when it comes to shopping, that is every girl shopping on clothes, bags, shoes and accessories. I used to be a big spender in Bucharest - shopping was like the usual way to spend weekends and even weekdays. Now, with all the summer clothes brought with me and some pairs of shoes, I don’t feel the need of adding extra weight to my wardrobe. I got some pairs of sandals, a dark jeans and two flirty tops and that says it all. Maybe it’s time for a new session soon.
The real “problem” here is that I learned to spare myself of financial problems now. Budgeting was like Chinese to me, now I’m making efforts to save for buying furniture and electrical equipment for home and make sure we have enough food on the table. Ricky is the only one working now so I feel terribly guilty at times. That’s my main concern – getting a job, launching a business, find ways to multiply my brought in money from Romania.
I know it won’t be easy, but I never thought it will be that hard or that I’ll miss so much my years as a business journalist, my colleagues at Wall-Street, the online newspaper I used to work at for almost two years of my Bucharest life. I must admit, I really miss those times, I want to wake up in Bucharest sometimes, I want to go to office and gossip with my favourite girls, write articles, go for press conferences at the Hilton and snap on my way the delicious French croissants made in heaven (that is French Bakery).
“Wake up now, you’re in sunny South Africa. You have so much to give and explore”, I convince myself. My boundaries are widening, I’m no longer that girl who comes home from work, jumps in front of TV and surfs the net every night until 1am. I actually have the laid-back life I craved for, with enough time to read, go out with my lover (I couldn’t go out so often in Bucharest, partly because everyone was busy with their mate, while my boyfriend was 10.000km away, smiling from a frozen webcam) and experimenting with food – that is, if you remember Liz I told you about, her real pleasure in Italy, food.
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