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.
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
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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