This time it’s strange being a straanger in a foreign town; it usually isn’t, but right now I feel that everybody is constantly looking at me. Although my heart is filled with hope, it’s still somewhat heavy. There’s this weight I’m moving around every time I breathe in and out.

These streets that smiled to me when I got here, alight with happy faces and exquisite decorations, seem to shun me. I walk the narrow bridges and somehow see you walking by, just around the corner. I run towards you and, just as I turn, you’re gone … in the blink of an eye. I’m not even sure you were ever really there. Perhaps it’s all been in my head. The city is so mellow. It’s probably just me. Everyone else seems to be happy. I just wish they’d stop staring at me. I might have even passed you by on the street a couple of times and I probably will again. There’s only so many streets.

Time seems to stand still now, although, for the past days it seemed to travel at the speed of light. I feel like a walking cliché, standing here in a café, killing time before my plane leaves, with my technology, cigarettes and glass of wine. I keep looking at my phone. I don’t even know what I’m looking at it for. Besides, I can’t even say I didn’t know this time would come. It was only logical. A logical conclusion to a very illogical series of decisions and a very unlikely series of events. Still, it doesn’t feel wrong on any level. I suppose I can take some solace in this and in the fact that I knew this was the only acceptable way for events to play out. Any one of the other possible outcomes would have carried with it a lot of unanswered questions and a lot of unwanted complications.

Of course it rains! The seagulls seem to have decided not to take part in this though. They’re relentless, like the river rushing by. There’s a strange pairing of images here with the river, the gulls, the bridges, the market and the rain. It all feels surreal. Images and words. That’s about all I’ve ever had. Images, songs and words to make people see, to make them understand. Yet it’s strange that all I carry with me are feelings – strong, complex emotions that shape me and provide context, purpose, drive … confusion that somehow, by some strange feat, leads to clarity. I could really use a piece of that clarity now. Like the song in my headphones – connected to the phone I keep looking at – says, I got half a mind to scream out-loud.

And then there’s the airports! I find comfort in airports. I feel very much at home when I’m between places. I guess it’s always been about the prospect of “what’s next”. I don’t really know. Trouble is that I can hardly ever forget anything. This, unfortunately, brings on a series of complications. I can still remember the texture of your skin, the smell of your hair, the look in your eyes and the feel of your embrace. That smile, the way your face lights up in happy surprise and the way your eyes childishly wither when in conflict. Of course they’re all still very near to me, but, if history is any teacher at all, they’ll still be near to me when I’m eighty.

There I go again looking at the phone.

Still there are airports ahead. I should be feeling quite happy. Yet the river is swelling, the bridges are still standing and the market is still abuzz with festive atmosphere. All in all, I guess it’s been a good couple of days. And perhaps the best is yet to come … and, babe won’t, it be fine?

I like women who know what they want. I like their vulnerability when I ask them what, to me, seem self-evident questions. I like the paradigm-shift from the initial surprise of being asked to the moment they tell me. The nakedness of that instance and the warmth of acceptance they feel when they realize that there couldn’t have ever been any wrong answer.

It was never about me wanting to know what they felt: I knew that, or at least felt it. It’s always been about them seeing that I see it deep within. I carefully choose my words. In fact, by the time you read this, I might have re-writen it 43 times. (carefully note that 43 = 42 + 1). It’s never about me having to know. It’s always about me having to be discovered in surprise. I hold delivery in high esteem. Now what the fuck/frak – or whatever derogatory, defulatorry* word you enjoy having lying around – is that all about?  Surely it can’t be that difficult to see!
*(English actually doesn’t have a proper expression for the meaning of the original word: it only provides … well … ‘vent’ vs défouler).

As much as I like to – only amongst friends – joke about myself as the holder of absolute truth, I truly have no ideea. Truth of the matter is that this is just an introspection. I often think that this is the most difficult and most erosionous* thing we could do to ourselves. This is why I tend to give most credit to people who have done it and come out alive. This is why I hold this above all other human endeavours. I guess it’s a bit of “know thyne enemy and know thyself “…
*That’s not an actual word 

… it’s the wrong kind of  place to be thinking of you. it the wrong time …

It takes courage to stare down into the face of the abyss, knowing that the abyss always stares back at you; that‘s what he was on about. Truthfully, we all strive to be Nietzscheans*: the apotheosis of all things we hold powerful and true. The apotheosis of … perfection (highly pretentious words). Why? Acceptance!(?) Core. Self validation!(?) That has to be it. Surely: I !!! No other value can be higher than ‘I’! None. I am it … bar none.
*That’s also something some dreamer once made up

I know what I want. I know I like women who know who they are and act acordingly.

It’s never been about making them uncover veil after veil. It’s never been about making them fulfill their “true potenttial”. To me, it’s much more subtile than this. It’s about the utter joy in realizing that, after someone made you see in yourself what you only aspired to, made you realize you were what you had always wanted to be, that they had done this selflessly, in spite of feelings we often disassociate with such states.

I find it sad to live in times where such statements are … relevant. When such things have to be spelt out loud. These are self-evident truths. Should it then be possible that love and knowledge of self and kindred selves are not mutually exclusive? Why that’s preposterous!! There must be something else behind it. And if there is … ? Then I cannot … . But if they know that I know that they know … ? Hmmm ….

… i choose my words very carefully …

I find it harsh and cinic that we’ve come to regard genuine love, the one that makes you … well … you, without requiring, without wanting you to trade, the ones who sense the smell of your skin even when you don’t, the ones who don’t keep scores and who don’t expect … as a charade. It’s blatant. It’s abusive, demeaning and irresponsible. It’s …

I rant … I do. It’s a small crime …

Pana una alta, mai jos e un clip cu diversele momente de “street art” surprinse  pe acolo. Bacelona nu duce lipsa de asa ceva. Nu am mai vazut in nici unul dintre orasele pe unde am fost atat de multi. Enjoy!

Ralph McTell Streets of London

Sunt rautacios. Era liniste … si frig. Cu toate astea … mi-a placut. A fost relaxant, chiar daca au fost doar cateva ore.

• FAA: Boeing’s New 787 May Be Vulnerable to Hacker Attack
• Hacking the Friendly Skies

Dar … iata … de la Airbus si Associated Press vine vestea cea mare: in avioanele Airbus se va putea vorbi la telefonul mobil. Incredibil, as putea adauga, este faptul ca asta va incepe din Europa si nu din State.

Ma rog, nu e chiar asa de incredibil, avand in vedere ca Airbus e o companie europeana. In orice caz, cu un singur carrier sau nu, abia astept sa pot sa dau un telefon linistit din avion,

Later edit: Ok , nu  m-am lamurit inca prea bine cum o sa functioneze exact toata treaba asta. Exista provider-ul de infrastructura in-flight, care va fi OnAir. Dar sunt curios daca voi folosi reteaua lor (ergo roamnig) sau voi putea folosi retelele din tarile peste care zbor.

Ar fi destul de frustrant sa fii in mijlocul unei conversatii in timp ce avionul trece peste o granita si sa se intrerupa convorbirea pentru ca nu mai are carrier-ul semnal. Ceea ce ma face sa ma intreb. Oare Vodafone o fi avand acoperire la 10 000 de metri ?!

Exista trei subiecte mari pe care se face reclama acum in State (in afara de medicamente):

1. Sunteti datori la fisc? -> refinantare, consultanta etc
2. Ati fost intr-un accident?
3. Credite pentru masini

Bottom-line-ul la toate reclamele pe care le-am vazut la televizor este ca statul e rau, nu trebuie sa intri in contact cu el, n u te baza pe asigurari, cheama-ne pe noi, ca noi … stim cum stau lucrurile si rezolvam orice.

Se practica foarte mult testimonialele. Se personalizeaza firmele, mai ales cele de imobiliare: noi intelegem, noi stim ce vreti … the process. (So yesterday’s news!)

Cel mai mult m-a amuzat un avocat de acolo (texan 100%) Jim Adler, cu campania lui “49 stories”. In primul rand accentul, in al doilea rand precizia. Despre ce e vorba: te-a lovit masina, el te face sa castigi foarte multi bani din asta. In alte clip-uri pe care le-am gasit am aflat ca a mai avut o campanie: protecting the interests of Texans for over 25 years.

Clip-ul e mai jos:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OpMl1dvLEuE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7zq5TrNox0g

De ce nu am filmat mai mult?

Nu ai cum sa faci altceva decat sa pilotezi avionul atunci cand pilotezi avionul. E mult de munca. Foarte mult de munca. Nu e ca si cum ai conduce o masina. Iarna nu-i ca vara!

La modul cel mai serios: e o activitate care necesita foarte multa concentrare.

Abia astept. I gotta do this!

Ok. Tornada a trecut … pe la 20 de mile mai la sud … dar a trecut. Panica totala all over the news! nici macar nu e sigur ca a fost vreo tornada. A plouat, mai tare, si a batut vantul: foarte tare. Dar atat. Panica! Panica! Panica!

Alt subiect foarte tare la stiri: Alec Baldwin si fica-sa. Pustoaaica de 11 ani, fiica lui si  a lui Kim Basinger (mare proces de divort) ii spune “don’le suna-ma tu la ora cutare in ziua cutare  si vorbim atunci. Omul se conformeaza, isi iese din cale-afara si da telefonul la ora si ziua stabilita. Telefonul inchis. (Eu nu reactionez bine deloc la faze din astea). Ce face? Lasa un mesaj (o practica des intalnita aici). Fiind nervos si probabil nefiind prima data cand se intampl asa ceva, isi varsa nervii si ii spune pe nume tot.

Bineinteles, avand in vedere ca e “celebrity news” mesajul (plin de beep-uri) e pe tv absolut instant. Asta se intampla Miercuri sau joi (18, sau 19 aprilie). De atunci sunt dezbateri la toate posturileTV si se analizeaza faza asta la toate nivelel. Psihologi peste psihologi si analisti peste analisti.

Din ce in ce mai multe pareri sunt de genul “Is this child abuse?. Oameni buni! Omu’ e taica-su! Nu i-a facut nimic. I-a spus vreo doua din adancul sufletului pentru ca era prea plin! Nu e extraordinar. Nu se poate asa ceva. Ar trebui arestat!

Mi-a placut o reactie a unuio tip (nu-i retin numele) cica: “Hai sa fim seriosi, fiecare dintre noi fie ca am primit o replica din asta de la parintii nostri fi ca, parinti fiind, am mai zis cate ceva care ne dorim sa fi spus in alt mod”. Ceea ce ma deranjeaza e ca sunt falsi in situatia asta.

Exagerari

In schimb cica maine vor fi destul de puternice; si grindina: grindina de marimea unei mingi de baseball. O sa fie palpitant: cerul deodata negru, ploaie, grindina, sirenele. O da, sirenele. Toata lumea de pe-aici spunea ca nu a mai auzit sirenele. Bineinteles numai eu pot sa am norocul asta.

Pot sa spun ca am avut o vizita plina de evenimente. Sa recapitulam:

• 12 aprilie – am ajuns
• 13 aprilie – tornada si grindina (si sirene)
• 14 aprilie – (nu se putea sa nu lipseaasca) greva American Airlines. De astia nu am nevoie dar, in stilul meu caracteristic, am cprins o greva a unei companii aeriene
• 16 aprilie – Masacrul de la Virginia Tech (VT website)
• 24 aprilie – Posibil tornada, sigur grindina

Ma pregatesc moral. Sub pat nu incap. Desi asta cica trebuie facut. Dar am sa iau salteaua.

Am asteptat foarte mult timp zborul asta sperand ca o sa merg cu un Beoing 747, dar am fost putin dezumflat cand am vazut ca nu voi avea placera asta. Am mers cu un Airbus A340.  Oricum si A340 este un avion gigantic, desi nu se poate lauda cu o reputatie ca cea a unui Jumbo Jet.

Indieni. Multi indieni. Coada imensa la imarcare. De fapt la controlul de frontiera. Regulile de securitate pe transatlantic sunt incredibil de stricte.

Ne-am imbarcat, am decolat, suntem peste ocean.  E mare, mare mare tare.

Intr-un final am avut revelatia: nu diferenta de fus orar de 8 ore te omoara ci zborul de 11 ore. Sunt absolute mort de oboseala si nu au trecut nimi macar 8 ore. Nu inteleg de ce traseul e asa de incurcat: Frankfurt -> Toronto -> Chicago -> Dallas. Sunt trei motive care imi vin in minte: 1) se merge pe airways 2) se vrea sa se zboare cat mai putin timp pe deasupra oceanului 3) curbura pamantului.

Suntem aproape de Dallas Fort Worth. A fost un zbor extenuant. Ma asteapta alte controale de securitate, drum. e ora 1 dup-amiaza.

E cinci dimineata. Mi-e somn. Mi-e foarte somn, Nu-i nimic. Razbim: mai avem 17 ore. No problems. Ma asez. Barul il stiu. Poarta 3. Niciodata nu am plecat de la o poarta sub 10. (Nu am nici cea mai vaga idée de ce am facut observatia asta). Buna dimineata! Cu ce va servim? O cafea si o apa plata! (Aveam gatul absolut uscat) 23 de lei. Dar asta stiam. Eram pregatit. Ma uit la fetze.

Cum arata fetzele din Otopeni la 5 dimineata? Ce intrebare stupida. Cum sa arate. Ca fetele din gara de nord sau din autogara Roman la 5 dimineatza, doar ca au genti trolly. Nu exagerez, asta e singura diferenta. Hainele si fetzele sunt aceleasi. Mirosul e doar estompat de aerul conditionat (dat la mixim bineinteles) si de kilotonele de parfumuri ieftine care se combina cu alte kilotone de parfumuri copiate dupa parfumurile originale si cumparate de la personae precum Vali Parfum sau Gigi Mireasma.

Imi aprind o tigara. Da: exista zxone pe Otopeni unde se fumeaza. Ma pregatesc pentru cele cateva ore bune de “No smoking”.

Termin cafeaua, ma ridic si plec. Imi caut un loc confortabil la poarta 3 si ma apuc de scris. Inainte de asta caut o retea wireless. Surpriza: nu gasesc nimic. Oh well, scriem in word si publicam mai tarziu …. mult mai tarziu.

Agitatia creste, se aglomereaza, aud avionul cum “trage” la poarta. Boeing 737-200. Urmatoarea escala Frankfurt.

Astept sa ma sui in avion. Pe Otopeni o fi oare wireless? Poate scriu ceva inainte sa plec. Corectie: In mod sigur am sa scriu ceva pe Otopeni inainte sa plec: nu stiu daca o sa reusesc sa si public.

Imi e somn. Se anunta o zi lunga tare. O zi cu 32 de ore. Imi e somn.

Deschid categoria asta pentru ca, de fiecare data cand plec pe undeva, e cate ceva de povestit. Spre exemplu, de fiecare data cand plec la Roma cu AlItalia, la cel mult doua zile de cand ajung acolo, AlItalia intra in greva si zborul meu e anulat: plec cu AlItalia si ma intorc cu Tarom-ul. Un prieten de acolo imi spunea: “Mai, astia te vad pe tine pe lista de pasageri si spun: gata, greva, a venit Stan iar!“.

Zborul meu anulat. Click pe imagine.

Joi plec in State. Deja mi-e groaza cand ma gandesc la cele 15 ore prin aeroporturi si avioane. 11 ore in transatlantic. Securitate maxima. Sper sa nu nimeresc pe langa vreun personaj de doi metri diametru (no offense) pentru 11 ore ca …

Exagerez putin cu groaza. Sunt nerabdator sa plec. Mi-e dor sa zbor: in septembrie, cand mi-am luat concediu, daca ar fi fost dupa capul meu, as fi luat biletele cu escala, doar de dragul aterizarilor si decolarilor bonus Noroc ca mai exista si o parte sanatoasa la cap in viata mea

Please fasten your seat-belts and return your seats to their full upright position.