Multilingual Puzzle-Girl

I must have had such a huge smile on my face today. Even though school is killing me(9 classes for International Relations and 7 for Art History, taking into account this is my last semester in this bloody school?!) I was so happy to find out I had passed my language exams with 10 in French (it’s like A+) and 9 in German(A-). Considering the 10 I got in Spanish I must say I’m EXTATIC!!! And even though this kind of news would prompt my gangsta friend Ben to call me a “Neeeerd” everybody knows I’m not that school smart. I pass a lot of my exams relaying mostly on creativity and the info I store in the drawers of my brain to keep for “special cases”. But in this case I have to admit I owe it to my international friends. Take Spanish, for example. Even though Kike insists that I’m very fluent after a couple of beers I can’t show up tipsy for a class. I did it once, in my first year at Uni, and it would have finished badly if we hadn’t used breath mints.  So, instead I try to remember random bits of what the “Espanish” speakers used to talk about. I also try to imitate their accents (they shouldn’t feel offended, imitation is the most sincere form of flattery) so whenever I open my mouth in class I think of Alberto, Miguel or Eva. On the other hand, I have to thank the amazing Mexicans(Magda, Enrique, Emilio) and Paulina, my Chilean sister for teaching me all those expressions. They really impressed my professor who is doing a doctorate on slang:)). For my French class I try to pout and purr my words just like Noemie. And for German, where I have one year less of study than my classmates (they started it while I was in the US) I picture Adrian smiling, winking at me and saying “Rrrilly?, Verry gut! or What are you sinking?” and immediately get over my fears of this language.

I never thought people were like puzzles, constructed from all their experiences and encounters. Thankfully, I proved myself wrong .

1 year

One year ago I was on my way back to Burlington, Vermont. I had spent New Year’s Eve with my family and when the clocked ticked 12 times on January 1, 2007 I made my wish. New Year’s wishes are supposed to be kept a secret, otherwise they don’t come true. But my wish did come true so I guess I can make it public now. As I sipped my champagne I thought of what I wanted. Easy, a hot guy as my new room mate! But after a second I thought: Look, let’s be reasonable here, no way they’re gonna put a guy in the same room as you. And in the unlikely case they did, yeah, you’d have a chance of hooking up with him but you’d also fight like crazy. So, I took another, bigger sip of champagne and wished with all my heart that I’d get a nice roomie, one with a sense of humour, a taste for parties and an ID that said she was over 21. Fast forward onto January 14, 2007. I was in a cab heading towards Burlington (affectionately known as B-town, no. 4 beer capital of the world and home of Ben& Jerry’s ice cream). I was tired, jet lagged, high on like 12 espressos I had in Milan, a bit drunk from the wine I shared with an old friend I had met by chance on the Italian airport and most of all worried. How will I feel with half of my friends now gone? Will some bitches make me uncomfortable? Will I feel all lonely? (cue to Bobby Vinton’s song , hehe) Will my new room mate be all right? As I entered B building with the gloomiest look ever on my face I heard Yumi shout: Anca chan! You’re back! She dragged me to the commons room where some people were having a party. The food smelled so good and the music sounded fun. Then, a girl with a huge smile came over to me and said at a really fast pace: Hello! I’m Paulina! I’m from Chile!..And I’m your new room mate! 15 hours of flight and seven more of waiting around on airports had made me pretty trashed. I mumbled something like: Hey, nice to meet ya! and crawled upstairs. But on the inside I was really happy. Somehow, part of my soul knew that on that day I had just met for the first time my Chilean sister, Paulina. The rest is, as they say, history!

Change can be you

Back at UVM my favorite classes were the anthro ones, about globalization, culture and change. I remember how Putri, Vanja and I used to listen in awe to Larry, our prof, and from time to time comment on what he had to say. I don’t know if I came back from the States a smarter person but I definitely came back a changed one, with stronger opinions and the notion that I can do something about what bothers me planted deep in my brain. I haven’t started a revolution back home(anyway, Revolutions are highly controversial in my home country) and I can barely keep up with my project for the OSI. However, I stopped eating at fast foods (McDonald’s, KFC etc.) and I try to buy mostly organic, local food. I try really hard to recycle or at least reuse stuff. And maybe, I hope, in 2008 I’ll convince the TV station where I work at to donate all the paper they use to a local NGO, copaculdehartie.ro that will recycle it. I also stopped buying so many clothes and footwear- I mean, I last bought a pair of shoes in September, so those who know me realize how much I’m holding back. And, most importantly, I guess: I convinced my family and some of my friends to do the same. The world won’t change if you just sit somewhere with your arms crossed and wait for things to happen! And I don’t expect people to blindly follow commandments on how to “save the Earth” or “live green”. I mean, saying travel less because it will cause less pollution and save energy is just bullshit. But there are things that any of us could easily do.

Check out http://www.storyofstuff.com/ for a simple, eye-opening lesson on change.

Addictions

I am addicted to a lot of things: coffee, the internet, tv shows, books (cos I’m an undercover nerd!) but I’ve recently discovered a new addiction: chatting with my friend Pauly. It would all be pretty normal if she didn’t live in Chile and I in Romania but I guess our life in Vermont really left some deep marks inside our heads. A typical conversation starts with how much we miss UVM (duh!) and our other friends (Magda must hiccup a lot because we mention her the most often), then we proceed to calling each other nerd and advance to other really important subjects. Ahmmm, incredibly important subjects like: have we met any cute guys recently, what American/ European guy messaged us on Facebook, why the hell did we not take advantage of Shanta (?!), why are some hotties born in 1987 or 1988, what makes a woman good in bed, how I should stop being so damn self conscious and compare myself with other chicks, how we should make a show about our life at UVM ( a cross between Sex and the City and Gossip Girl we’d like to think) and of course how much we are going to rock Mexico (hopefully). I know a lot of people who might label our behavior as silly and childish but the truth is they’re just jealous that we can still be best friends even when we’re miles away from each other. So, here’s to our great days as roomies and sisters and to our future parties, whenever and wherever they will be!

Cyndi Lauper- Girls just wanna have fun

Why?

I laugh a lot. And I’m generally a happy person. But from time to time I slipp into what my mum calls “the sticky jar of depression”. Coincidentally, this happens when I get a lot of hate or when some bitch screws up my plans/day. And this brings me to my point: why do some women hate me? Well, ok, screw that, maybe they have their reasons. I mean, i’m not perfect. But if they hate me or dislike me why the hell do they pretend to be my friends and why do they imitate me? I am hardly role model material. But why dress the way I do if I’m soo tacky? Why party with my gang if they’re all crazy? Why cut your hair like mine or dye it the same color if it looks stupid? Why act like me if I’m slutty? Why borrow my jokes if they’re vulgar? Why pick the same carreer choice or plan as mine if I’m soo stupid? And why hit on the guy I like if you think he’s an idiot? I won’t lie, I am kinda bothered. But I won’t say fuck you (well, maybe I’ll say it in my mind) but thank you- at least your attitude shows me I’m interesting!

One year in Vermont

Yesterday, I was waiting for the bus in Piata Romana when I heard three English tourists asking the lady selling bus tickets for directions. She gave them the wrong ones. I wanted to help them (I was also really pissed because the same woman had refused to extend my bus card). So, I opened my mouth. And, to my amazement I spoke in a very nasal, sing song voice: “ Nahw, she’s stuh-pid. She gave you the wrong di-rek-tions. If you wanna reach the aeir-porht you gotta git on the 183 bus. That’s the right one. Take care and have a safe trip. Aight?”. So much for 12 years trying to get that perfect Brit accent. One year in Vermont ruined all my efforts.

Ups, I also remembered how last week I said that my friend Alice studies in France, in Mon-peh-liahr (Mon-pi-li-ar pt romani). My poor French teacher, she would have died of shame.