This gallery contains 6 photos.
Simssee – Upper Bavaria
This gallery contains 6 photos.
Simssee – Upper Bavaria
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!
Exploring (and enjoying) the Carpathian garden! 😉
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.
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!”
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This gallery contains 25 photos.
mi-e sufletul greu,
submers în stânjeni de fluid clar, oceanic,
apa mării stă oglindă în dimineaţa asta
luciul ei printre pini şi ambarcaţiuni e tras în foiţă de aur,
iar tihna de început de lume a frumuseţii
cu desăvârşite sfârşituri.
valul e ceva care îţi dă speranţa
un recul cu braţele întinse către o eternă
dar graţia deplină a acestei păci –
ciobul acesta de frumos imperturbabil – condamnă
numai în România poţi observa
un burlan care curge în sus.
împroşcând, ca o arteziană, jeturi de apă pe peretele
cerul s-a îngroşat brusc a smoală, şi-a-nvolburat bojocii şi apoi s-a crăpat
în două electric, cu un fulger. tună.
i s-a rupt apa. contracţiile au intrat în faza de expulzie.
arborii se contorsionează dureros. negrul e apocaliptic.
iată, se naşte. se naşte ceva.
plouă în perdele, cad una după alta cortine de ploaie pe spectacolul de forţă al tăriilor
doar acela, la o imbinătură, ejaculează cu frenezie
pe străzi, în curând, un înot diluvic ce roteşte turbat în vârtejuri trompetele angelice ale florilor
ace uscate de brad,
rafalele mişcă maşini, le fac invizibile.
o flegmă dusă de ape se îneacă cu disperare anonimă.
căldură de păduri tropicale, sufocare stinsă un pic la fereastra mea.
o, cum duruie depărtarea! cine poate traduce glasul acesta?
e Ilie, spun unii. unii aud pe Dumnezeu. Dumnezeu a trecut pe aici.
God is still in da house.
(o, da, e feroce!)
de s-ar spăla atât de uşor păcatele lumii precum
urmele de ADN de pe trotuar.
Munţii Cernei – Defileul Dunării (la Cazane, de pe apă) – Sibiu şi Făgăraşii cu creste înzăpezite – Sighişoara – Salina Praid – Secuime – Cheile Bicazului şi retur.
Pe scurt: am fript slană la foc în munţi, am mâncat direct la o stână, pe Dunăre căpitanul/ghid i-a lăsat pe copii să ţină ei cârma bărcii cu motor în timp ce zburam cu 40 la oră pe graniţa dintre state (extaz pt. fiică-mea, concentrare crispată pt. fiu-miu), băieţii au fost la pescuit, am fost la parc de distracţii (plus bar) în salină, am vizitat muzeul din Turnul Sighişoarei, iar de bălăceala din piscina hotelului Korona nici nu mai zic. Patronii de acolo ne-au făcut o reducere la cazare fiindcă ne-au recunoscut de anul trecut. Şi ce mişto se văd Cheile Turzii de pe autostradă, într-o sâmbătă aproape pustie!
A, şi – evident – highlight-ul (dacă îi întrebaţi pe prunci): Angry Birds Movie în 3D la mall, cu o dublare în româneşte de zile mari. 🙂 Epocal a fost.
Click pe oricare imagine pentru vizualizare in format mare, apoi săgeţi stânga/dreapta pentru imaginea anterioară/următoare. Savuraţi!
Copyright: Andreea Sepi 2016.
Romania (Banat mountains, Danube Gorges on the border to Serbia, Sibiu and the snow-capped Fagaras mountains, Sighisoara, Praid Salt Mine, Eastern Transylvania, Bicaz Canyon and back) – May 2016. Click on any image for full-size viewing (then click on arrow left or right for previous/next image). Enjoy!
GERMAN >> ROMANIAN >> ENGLISH