sâmbătă, 17 octombrie 2015

Love is in Spain

Now, that I just finished the apple, nuts and cinnamon pie, I can sit down and tell the story of the most beautiful holiday I had until now: Spain. Maybe the pictures aren't showing the true beauty of Spain, maybe, in the end, it is not the most beautiful country, but in my opinion Spain has the most incredible, warm, carrying people - even with Romanians, which is a great deal! And Spain's people are the true richness of the country and for me that thing matters more than any breathtaking view.

In February 2007, my fiancee and I went for two weeks in a small city Castellon, Spain. It's been a gorgeous experience from all points of view, less the culinary experience because at that time I was under a strict medical treatment and diet. The first thing I did when I get there was to undress me - obviously  ...I was coming from minus 15 Celsius degrees, and in Spain it was PLUS 15 Celsius degrees - it felt like I was in heaven:). Getting undressed didn't imply the fact that I remained in my panties and top...no, no, no. But imagine that I was dressed in lots of clothes, jackets, sweaters - yeah, almost a small baggage only my clothes I was dressed with - and getting undressed of 15' sweaters it's the equivalent of a striptease show (even on the plane the temperature was really low).

Because we landed pretty late, there wasn't much to do in the city, but to sniff the cold and clean air (I admit, it was still cold for me, but at least, I didn't feel anymore like a South Pole explorer) and to watch the people who were walking slowly on the luminous streets or that were entering in noisy bars. I adored that sensation that "I am not the only one who loves to spend the night outside" (I'm sort of an owl), that thing never happened in Belgium:(.

The next day after our arrival, while we were walking, I had a beautiful experience designed to change a little bit the way I used to think. A. entered a store and while I was waiting for him, I was shocked to see two old women (75-80 years old) who were walking down the street holding each others arm and acting like they were most desired divas ever. They were having small, elegant bags, were dressed impeccable, with fine fashion taste, had beautiful and authentic jewelry AND...they were wearing makeup!!!! Yes, they were wearing makeup: blush, lipstick and eyeliner!... They were acting so simple, so natural, and my dropping face didn't bother them at all, quite opposite, when they reach me, I heard: "Buenos Dias"!!! I have the impression that at that moment I displayed the most stupid smile I could ever conceive, a fatal combination between " the heaven was revealed to me, I heard the angel singing", "have you seen this? those old ladies were wearing makeup" and "those ladies are crazy? are they talking to me?" All those questions invaded me in the same time, mashed my brain, killed my elementary Spanish knowledge, flooded my cheeks with blood and...give them a large, idiot smile. Now, when I think about what I could talk to them, what wisdom treasures I could have find or lovely stories and experiences just by talking to them, makes me wanna cry (yes, I am sure that they would have talked to me:)) I was such a fool that I did not fructify this opportunity!

Even so, this single experience was able to reset my entire thinking way because, although Spain had a tormented history under Franco's dictatorship, their women managed to maintain the feminity, the beauty, the desire to be admired...things that were totally oppressed in our culture. In all those weeks, I did not see any old lady with the head folded in the kerchief, like I see in my country. Don't get me wrong, I love my old grannies, I love their garbs and simplity, but I can not stop the thought that under all this humble, wise and simple conduct, there is a huge fight between the inner desire of every woman and the injustice life they had. I believe that in every woman there is an instinctual desire to be admired, adored, including in these grannies that a few decades ago were eager to sew to most beautiful dresses and shirts for the Romanian round dance or other traditional customs. This specific difference between Romanian humbled grannies and coquettish Spanish ladies is what saddens me.

So, after I saw them elegant and feminine (maybe, apparently, I am not sure of their behavior in intimacy) I promised myself that in the future I will not allow myself to get shaggy. Did I break my promise? OH YES, deeply, but...even if I do not succeed to style myself like a diva, I know that I have to try, for my own sake, just like those old ladies (I am sure they were not playing in Cupid's team, not anymore).

I loved the houses, the bars, the little streets, the gateways, the beach, the palms, the frenetic energy that surrounded us, the kindness and indulgence of native people and...the SALES from Zara. In Romania, the Zara prices are really high, while in Spain I brought skirts for 2-3 Euro, autumn-winter clothes for 5 Euro, maximum 10 Euro.
One of the days we went to visit Barcelona just to have a picture with the famous Rambla street, beautifully described in Zafon's book - "The shadow of the wind". It's a wonderful book, I totally recommend it!
Before getting to Rambla street, we had a little stop at the well-known Sagrada Familia church. I really loved it, not for its stately statue or ... others cliches, but because, apart of appearances, I really felt Gaudi's tears for not being understand, his permanent turmoil to fulfill his dream, his nature inspiration - in a proportion of 90 percent. The building itself looked overwhelmed by sadness like it was crying after its creator. I understand perfectly this sadness - another Gaudi won't be born again, so the building will never be finished (according to a legend, which I tend to believe)!

The architecture of Barcelona is amazing, with her Diagonal (it is a boulevard) - that always confused me, with the balconies full of flowers, and...with that man from a balcony, next to Sagrada Familia, who leisurely opened his newspaper, put his coffee on the table and, from time to time, he watched the passers. I fell in love immediately with that moment and I will keep it un my mind and heart like an emblem of the joy brought by life's little pleasures.  

Acum, ca am scos placinta cu mere, nuca si scortisoara din cuptor, ma pot pune la depanat (nu repar nimic, dar n-am diacriticele la mine:)) amintirile din cea mai faina vacanta a mea: Spania. Poate pozele nu sunt suficient de graitoare pentru cat de frumoasa e tara aceea, poate, de altfel, nici nu e cea mai frumoasa, insa are un popor incredibil de cald, apropiat, iubitor chiar si fata de romani, ceea ce pentru mine conteaza mai mult decat nu stiu ce peisaj breathtaking.

In februarie, anul 2007, am purces la drum, pentru doua saptamani, in faimosul oras Castellon - Spania. A fost o experienta grozava din toate punctele de vedere, mai putin culinar caci eram supusa unui regim draconic (motive medicale). Ajunsa acolo, primul lucru pe care l-am facut a fost sa ma dezbrac - normal...eu veneam de la minus 15 grade, si acolo erau 15 PLUS!!! Asta nu inseamna ca am ramas in chiloti si-n boanda, dar totusi, imaginati-va ca eu aveam cam inca un bagaj de haine pe mine, asa ca, dezbracarea a cinspe' pulovere a fost echivalentul unui striptease (da, si pe avion a fost frig...erau unii in calduri).

Apoi, fiind noapte cand am aterizat, nu aveam mare lucru de facut in oras decat sa adulmecam aerul curat si rece (da, tot era rece pentru mine, dar cel putin nu ma simteam explorator la Polul Sud), si sa privim la oamenii care se plimbau agale pe strada sau care intrau in baruri zgomotoase. Mi-a placut la nebunie senzatia ca "nu-s singura care adora sa stea noapte afara", asa cum patisem in Belgia.

In prima zi dupa sosire, in timp ce ne plimbam am avut o frumoasa experienta care mi-a schimbat putin modul de gandire. In timp ce-l asteptam pe A. sa iasa dintr-un magazin, am avut un soc sa vad doua batrane (75-80 ani) care se tineau de brat, si care se comportau ca cele mai faine dive ever. Aveau posete micute, elegante, erau imbracate impecabil, cu bun gust, purtau bijuterii frumoase (si tare ma gandesc ca ce vazusem erau pietre naturale) si erau machiate. MACHIATE?!? Da, erau machiate cu fard de obraz, ruj si creion de ochi...Gesturile lor erau naturale si simple, iar holbatul meu, la propriu, nu le-a deranjat absolut deloc, ba chiar, atunci cand au trecut pe langa mine m-au salutat: "Buenas dias!". Cred ca in momentul acela mi s-a nascut cel mai tamp zambet de care sunt in stare, o combinatie fatala intre "cerurile s-au deschis, ingerii au cantat", "ai vazut babele alea sunt machiate!!!!" si "astea-s nebune? vorbesc cu mine?". Da, m-am fastacit groaznic, toata spaniola pe care am invatat-o cu Armando din telenovele s-a dus fix in Stinx, m-am inrosit, am zambit, si ca o mare idioata le-am lasat sa plece. Ah, acum cand ma gandesc...ce perle, ce comori de intelepciune puteam sa culeg de la femeile acele, ce experiente aveau sa-mi impartaseasca....imi vine sa plang de ciuda (da, sunt sigura ca ar fi vorbit cu mine:)). Revenind, da, eu recunosc ca am "fructificat la maxim" aceasta oportunitate - NOT!

Cu toate acestea, mi s-a resetat modul de gandire, caci, desi Spania nu a avut cea mai pasnica istorie - sub dictatura lui Franco spaniolii au suferit mult, femeile lor nu si-au pierdut dorinta de a fi admirate, feminitatea...asa cum s-a intamplat in cazul nostru in mare parte. Pe parcursul calatoriei nu imi amintesc sa fi vazut o batrana cu batic pe cap si cu aspect de "bunica noastra cea de toate zilele". Nu ma intelegeti gresit, le iubesc pe batranele noastre, imi place portul lor si simplitatea, dar simt ca toata aceasta infatisare umila, inteleapta si simpla, a aparut ca urmare a infruntarii unor mari greutati, a unor nesfarsite nedreptati. Caci dorinta de a fi cocheta exista in toate femeile (mai sunt si exceptii) , inclusiv la bunicile noastre cand isi coseau cele mai frumoase camasi, cand se pregateau de hore etc. Asta nu imi da pace si ma intristeaza atunci cand observ diferenta dintre batrenele noastre si batranele lor cochete.

Asa ca, atunci cand le-am vazut pe toate cat de ingrijite sunt (poate, doar in aparenta, nu stiu), mi-am promis ca, in timp, sa nu devin delasatoare in ceea ce priveste aspectul meu. Mi-am incalcat promisiunea? OHOHOHOHO, cu varf si indesat, dar chiar daca nu reusesc sa ma aranjez ca o diva, stiu ca trebuie sa incerc, macar de dragul meu, fix ca batranele alea (ca sunt sigura ca nu iesisera la agatat):)))).

Mi-au placut casele lor, barurile, stradutele, portile caselor, plaja, palmierii, buna dispozitie pe care o raspandeau oamenii, indulgenta si amabilitatea lor, parcurile, siiiiii...reducerile colosale din Zara. Si acum imi vine sa rad, cand mai intru in Zara la noi, de ce preturi au astia, de zici ca-s poleite cu aur, iar acolo mi-am luat fuste la 2-3 euro, haine de toamna-iarna cu 5 euro.

Am fost o zi in Barcelona, numai ca sa-mi fac o poza pe Rambla cea frumos descrisa de Zafon - in "Umbra vantului". Superba carte, recomand!

Dar, pana sa ajungem pe Rambla, ne-am oprit putin la Sagrada Familia - catedrala blestemata. Mi-a placut mult, nu pentru ca e impunatoare si bla bla bla, ci pentru ca, dincolo de aparente, am simtit lacrimile lui Gaudi pentru faptul ca nu a fost inteles, zbaterea lui permanenta de a-si indeplini visul, si mai mult decat orice, aplecarea lui spre natura - de unde si-a extras forta creatoare in proportie de 90 % . De o tristete coplesitoare mi s-a parut constructia, care parca plangea dupa creatorul inital. Are si de ce - un alt Gaudi nu are sa se mai nasca, iar ea nu o sa se termine niciodata!

Superba arhitectura Barcelonei, cu a ei Diagonala (e un bulevard), care ma inducea mereu in eroare: ))), cu balcoane pline de flori, si n-am sa-l uit nicodata pe nenea ala din balconul de langa Sagrada Familia, care isi scosese tacticos ziarul, isi pusese bautura pe masuta din balcon si se uita la trecatori. M-am indragostit pe loc de imaginea aceea si o pastrez in mintea mea ca o emblema a ceea ce inseamna relaxarea si bucuria de savura micile placeri. 

Ma prezint in Barcelona!

Poza asta e facuta inainte sa ajungem in Sagrada Familia - de aceea eram asa de fericita. Dupa vizita, m-a cam influentat atitudinea de salcie plangatoare a bisericii, si pentru putin timp am fost in reculegere.

Portul din Barcelona - mersesem si mancasem pe Rambla, dar pentru ca era prea aglomerat, n-am avut unde sa-mi intind picioarele...asa ca, cu prima ocazie am rezolvat problema (doar stiti ce obosita sunt de felul meu).

Ultimul felinar de pe Rambla  - si o raza de soare:)

O pisica gigantica intr-un cartier delicios de pitoresc. Aici am trecut pe sub rufele colorate intinse la uscat fara nicio jena, si pe langa cele mai ponosite usi (pentru mine e de bine). Pisica a fost bonus si nu o puteam rata!

Va urma un post si cu poze din Valencia!!!

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