Category Archives: Călătorii

Staycation 2020

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This summer, we got up close and personal with the Bavarian Alps. Here’s a glimpse into what they have to offer. Enjoy!

#berchtesgaden #koenigssee #oberaudorf #partnachklamm #chiemsee #kampenwand #heuberg #jenner #regensburg #unesco

Copyright 2020 A. Sepi. All rights reserved.

River Revival

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Trying to stay in shape during social distancing.

A river, a grove, a few less trodden paths on a sun-flooded morning. Glimpses of real beauty. And a little piece of heaven.

Copyright A. Sepi 2020. All rights reserved

 

Kala Alm*

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Panta începe abrupt. Mușchii se opintesc. Se contractă, se întind. Înaintez anevoios în sus: dreptul, stângul, dreptul, stângul… La fiecare pas, talpa bocancului scârțâie, alunecă puțin în spate în zăpada moale, aproape zloată.

Lanternele rămân stinse. În albastrul de cobalt al nopții, doar stelele licăresc, neverosimil de multe. Când lăsăm în urmă ultima casă, ne afundăm în întuneric. Și ridicăm instinctiv ochii spre cer. O explozie de cioburi sclipitoare, scăpărând nestinse, picură încet peste noi, peste spinările înzăpezite de munți ca niște dinozauri împietriți sau, poate, doar adormiți. Deasupra și roată-roată, noaptea, această pânză largă înmuiată în tuș negru, înfășoară planeta. Pe ea stă scrisă migălos, cu scânteieri de lumină atârnată în vid, caligrafia trecutului, a galaxiilor ce poate nu mai sunt.

Din când în când, coboară sănii în viteză, chiuind. Copiii se aruncă demonstrativ din calea lor, în zăpadă. Apoi se face iar liniște. De-o parte și de alta a drumului: pădure. Brazi uriași, un soi de zgârie-nori vegetali, urcă și urcă și urcă amețitor spre boltă. Dar nori nu sunt de data asta, ca să rămână agățați în vârfurile lor. Fuioarele de ceață se plimbă leneșe peste satul din vale; aici aerul e clar, iar deasupra uriașelor trunchiuri de brazi planează doar, bine ascuțită, lama de secure a unui sfert de lună, înfiptă la baza cerului. Iată și Carul Mare, un Venus orbitor, Andromeda…

Respir. Buzele tale sunt neașteptate. Sărutul tău umed în aerul rece și ionizat al nopții miroase ca acum 20 de ani: proaspăt, dulce, ca promisiunea unei beții ușoare și de durată. Totul miroase la fel, miroase ca atunci, miroase ca România. În mine se trezesc amintirile, ies amorțite din cotloane, de sub plăci de mormânt, ca vârcolacii, năpădesc gardurile pe care le-am construit ca să mă apăr. Peste noi ninge cu stele; îndărătul pleoapelor închise plouă cu lacrimi pe care ți le ascund.

Cât de fericiți eram atunci! E oare cu putință? Să-mi amintesc cum se simte fericirea? Libertatea? E ceva ce mă zguduie. Mă zguduie și mă schimbă. Pășim unul lângă altul sub cer. Insignifianți în Universul infinit, dar suflete înviate, palpitând! Iată esențele; pe ce le-am vândut? Hai să umblăm așa, la lumina nopții, la nesfârșit, îmi vine să îți zic.

Dar până să vorbesc, ca mai mereu în viață, drumul cotește. Iar în spatele curbei pândește deja primul felinar: scuipându-și peste potecă aura portocalie, împrăștiindu-și convenabila orbire, mâzgălind înălțimile.

Magia nopții se sparge. Cerul se îndepărtează, stelele pălesc, redevenim mari, centrali în nimicul lipsit de acum de orizont și de vrajă. Ancorați în pământ. Umbre pe drum.

Comuniunea cu cosmosul se destramă. Iar pentru fiul meu miop, cu ochelarii lăsați acasă, ea nici n-a existat. Și mă lovește realizarea: copiii ecranelor și mall-urilor, copiii micilor piese de Lego risipite pe covoarele unor camere închise în orașe ce viermuiesc sub capace de smog și iluminat artificial, N-AU VĂZUT, POATE, NICICÂND ADEVĂRATUL CER .

Și n-au simțit niciodată ispita aceasta, ziditoare de suflet, de religii și de romane, a căderii în sus.

 

*Alm (germ.)= pajiște alpină

Copyright A. Sepi 2020. All rights reserved

Winter trails (at the turn of the decade)

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Alpes – Provence – Côte d’Azur 2019

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“Ne la laisse pas tomber

Elle est si fragile

Etre une femme libérée tu sais c’est pas si facile…”

Cookie Dingler – Femme libérée

Copyright photos France: A. Sepi & A. Csordas 2019

 

48 Hours in London – Plus 3 Misconceptions Gone

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The graduation cap kept slipping off my head and the tassel was getting into my field of vision, occasionally blotting out important surrounding objects, like pillars or toilets. I couldn’t bend down, nod, or even glance at my phone. I was beginning to get an inkling into why all graduands look so dignified – standing tall, chin up, gaze fixed firmly ahead, stiff smile. They must be terrified of dropping the thing…

I hadn’t worn a robe before either, and this ceremony at the London Barbican for alumni of the University of London’s International Programmes was my first British-style graduation, national anthem and all.

So when the lady at the dressing booth carefully placed and arranged the heavy black robe on my shoulders, the eerie weight of responsibility settled on them too.

I was on my best behavior: walked across the stage confidently when my name was called (having wisely ditched my stilettos in favor of more sensible flat-sole boots), bowed imperceptibly to the Vice-Chancellor and the other members, looked proudly (how else, cap was unstable) up into the audience, shook someone’s hand and was utterly relieved to be seated again without any major incident.

I was all too happy to relax and watch the long procession of excited graduates that followed, their enthusiasm, the faculty speeches, and the subtle yet undoubtedly motivating and inspiring pomp of the ceremony.  I barely fidgeted. The fact that I was dead beat after hours of walking through London must have had something to do with it.

Trying to pack this buzzing and fascinating city into only 48 hours and tick most of the major boxes on my to-see list is no small feat. It is, in fact, for no small feet at all. I have come dangerously close to a broken back, but I did manage to get a pretty good sense of the place, if I do say so myself.  Yes, boys and girls, it can be done!

So, as my throbbing, swollen feet are my witness, and in my capacity as surface-scratcher extraordinaire, I feel it is now my duty to dispel at least 3 common misconceptions right off the bat:

1. English food is terrible.

No way. Not necessarily. The gusty winds of healthy living are sweeping through the busy streets and teeming bike lanes of London, with tasty treats, leafy salads, fresh thick soups and vegan sandwiches on every corner. Things like pumpkin or papaya slices on rye bread with seeds, arugula, coleslaw, vegan mayo, vegetables and cheese can make a wholesome yet light and savory breakfast at a fraction of the price of fish and chips. Eat away! The food scene is amazing, and old traditional pubs, local steakhouses, elegant seafood restaurants, or first-class international cuisine are equally sophisticated and delightful. I particularly liked the looks of some eateries around Covent Garden.

2. The British are sticklers for protocol. (You know, stiff upper lip, haven’t been properly introduced type of stuff…)

Well, what can I say, if you marry into the Royal family (new wedding coming up!) most likely, but then you’ve brought it upon yourself. In my experience, however, even during official ceremonies there is the occasional cutting of slack, and guidance is always offered with smiles and in a calm tone of voice.

On the streets, the British are considerate and friendly chaps (and lads), who do not seem at all phased by the bustling crowds and will always take a second to give you directions or duck while you’re trying to photograph the sights. There will be a polite sorry for every brush against your arm, and thank yous are abundant. Never an arrogant snarl, never a condescending eye roll. There is a touch of affability and humor with every interaction. (Oh, I love decorum and a good upbringing!)

And even though the city is as vibrant, diverse and fast-paced as they come (more than 300 different languages are spoken in London schools), I did not get a sense of hectic rage among its inhabitants at all. They are lax and at ease in the commotion (occasional exception: cyclists – no, they are not training for the Tour de France, they’re just pedaling to work). To my complete surprise, most pedestrians don’t pay the slightest attention to red traffic lights. These seem to be optional, as jaywalking is common. So no sticklers there.

The hard focus on discipline and immediate punishment so typical of Germany is oddly missing here, as is the idea that human communities can only be held together by an obsession with conformity and the strict enforcement of procedures.

3. London is outrageously expensive.

Again, if you want an apartment on the riverbank, overlooking the Tower Bridge, or a nice flat in a posh neighborhood (ok, rents are pretty high everywhere) that will bore a significant hole through your bank account. High-life central London entertainment and tickets to most tourist venues will also take a toll on your finances; croissants and hot dogs in the immediate vicinity of a tourist attraction tend to be quite overpriced. But regular food and transportation fares are decent and even a couple of nights in a pleasant hotel not very far from the City are affordable.

You will see the occasional homeless person, and beggars on the Tube. But you will also see great culture and art (Tate Modern has sections with free access); impressive architecture – an eclectic mix of old and new, gleaming glass-and-steel structures cuddling the grimed walls of old churches, townhouses emblazoned with heraldic symbols, and charming little gardens redolent of rhododendrons; garrulous seagulls on the Thames and a buzzing fleet of red double-decker buses that will seem like they’re all driving on the wrong side of the road!

So be careful when you cross the street, pack an umbrella and enjoy five o’clock tea!

I’ll interrupt my reminiscing now and stand for God Save the Queen as my graduation ceremony closes. London, it’s been a pleasure!

Spoiler alert: here are (some) pictures. Don’t forget to also follow me on Instagram, under ipesardna, for more interesting stuff.

 

See you next time!

 

 

Romanian sights 2017

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Exploring (and enjoying) the Carpathian garden! 😉

 

La baltă

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Fierbințeala se scurge peste câmpuri ca șerpii.

Soarele făcut măciucă lovește în moalele capului, pielea se încinge, carotida pulsează ritmic.

Pe luciul apei, pluta undiței nu mișcă.

Vara, feroce, a desenat largi crăpături în sol, cicatricile arsurii.

Doar mușuroaiele de cârtițe par jilave, dar aparențele înșală:  copiii ridică bucăți împietrite de pământ și aruncă cu ele după broaște.

Pe malul opus, vacanța mare chiuie, azvârlind bețe în iaz și ultima zi de școală cu ele cu tot.

O familie de rațe iese de după papură călcând apa. Al optulea pui se prăbușește stângaci din stuf, pedalând grăbit din urmă.

Lișițele se scufundă după pește.

Nu trage. E aproape prânzul.

Miroase a uscăciune densă, vitală. Ierburile înalte se înclină ușor sub adiere, parcă duc întreaga greutate a cerului.

Azuriul e spălăcit, arcuit, fără nori. Ridici pălăria de paie și lași aerul să treacă peste sudoare, răcorind-o o clipă.

Libelulele verzui sunt grase și joacă sârba peste poteci.

Copleșiți de amiază, cosașii zumzăie ca pentru sine, monoton și monastic, mantra incomunicabilă a câmpiei bănățene.

Cât privești împrejur, orizonturi. Doar frumusețea asta simplă, suportabilă, eliberatoare.

Pește ioc.
 

Italy. 15 hours near Pisa

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Italy. 15 hours near Pisa

To even consider a 15-hour drive (round trip) for a measly 15 waking hours in Italy, you must be pretty desperate.

Not only did we consider it, we actually went. Three weeks of winter in the month of May, all hell breaking loose at work and a nasty throat infection did it. We wanted Italy. We needed Italy. We found a nice bed-and-breakfast near Lucca at €120/night for four (Triolivo, in Guamo), packed a bag, and didn’t think twice.

An ambition that had been simmering in our subconscious quickly developed into a full-blown obsession. We want to see the leaning tower of Pisa! We’d been to Italy so many times, how could we have missed it? I mean, it’s not exactly hard to find. It’s right there, on every children’s atlas, right next to the red Ferrari. Simply had to see it. Simply had to climb it.

293 steps and we were at the top for the noon bells! Was it worth it? Well, our son was crawling on all fours under the large bell to explore the sound mechanism, and was so excited he even forgot to cover his ears in the hubbub, so you be the judge of that.

What else was on the list? The charming little citadel of Lucca (where Giacomo Puccini was born), sun and storm in the Tuscan hills, a seaside view of the Apennine mountains with surfers in the roaring waves, profiteroles, dry soup made of fresh tomato puree and white bread, and the hot sand at Camaiore.

We spent only one night in Italy, yet managed to return with a bagful of great memories. I think our son’s exclamation on the way back pretty much sums it up: “But we were there for 3 days!”