This is how I spend my weekends, my life: activities like visiting Bodiam Castle, having a walk on the Camber Sands’ dunes, an Afternoon Tea at Shard, Gong cocktail bar, eager to find out new horizons and beauties of nature.
I like to think about myself that I nurture a particular taste and pleasure for art. People created beauty in order to overcome ugliness of life. I like to think about myself that I get over my pain growing my awareness about it, exploring every corner and stage of it, either by my reaction when in touch with the newness in my life, diversity and difference, but still less people and more space: material and spiritual.
When having one of my conscience crisis, I was advised by one of my old friends and my once upon a time lover to love myself more and have a child. What is it about children? My opinion is that people when their life seems empty they don’t look at other sides of life: knowledge. They feel like settling for a while, get refuge into a life that they are no longer the ones to shine but the one who control someone else’s life just because they lost control on theirs. This is what allegedly make them happy. This is just a transfer of pain of unhealed wounds that the little ones will bear as adults.
I still work on my conscience. I seek advice from the therapists or attend resilience courses, I work, I read and observe every inch of my pain. I go on holidays, day trips, search, research, read, keep an eye on the work market…do my best to master my destiny, float a drift, suffer, cry, love my family when I don’t judge them…in the attempt to find my vocation, passion and have a balanced life without feeling pain.
I’ve been working in Chelsea for a few months and started to discover the perks of being in this area of London. Besides fancy people that spend their wedding celebrations at the Ivy restaurant and shops there are a few other points of interest. Like the houses architecture, personality and the recently discovered Chelsea Physics Gardens. I picked a sunny October day to reflect the autumnal landscape and nature in its glory: colours everywhere you glimpse and a honey and amber light with ivy, faded flowers background. In regards to lunchin’ there are two places that are worth to be visited: the little Vietnamese restaurant for outdoor and exotic lunching, Phat Phuc Noodle Bar. Pay attention to the pronunciation when recommending it to your friends. It may sound like an innuendo 😀. Also, if you go for a long stroll with educational benefits a nice lunch can be served in a beautiful setting out at Chelsea Physics Gardens.
I live in a city with happy people but I cannot touch their happiness.
I live in a city with people that get married and celebrate their union at the posh restaurant that I glance over the street, on Kings Road in Chelsea.
I live in a city that autumn suits it best.
Garden, parks and alleys are polished with gold and I look at them petrified. I like statues. They are like me.
I live in a city with happy people on whose faces are pains and they walk brisly to work and never stop.
I live in a city where time passes by quick.
People got a ball that they don’t want to drop. In a crazy rythmn they pass it to each other. The ball is wearing out and is getting smaller each day. The ball has disappeared and people are mute. They need to create another.
Italian gardens, Tudor castle, American millionaires. What do they have in common? I forgot, Anne Boleyn. Does it ring a bell? Hever Castle in Edinbridge is Anne’s childhood place. A beautiful secluded place tucked away in Kent’s greeneries is claiming its fame and reputation. Characters like Anne Boleyn who spent her childhood there, Henry VIII, Anne de Cleves and Astors passed by there either for short stays or as residents.
Yesterday I spent an amazing day there visiting the interiors who looked over the still flourished gardens and kept original furniture, clothing and even Middle Age torture objects. Also, I had a long walk in the gardens. The Italian gardens terrace that overlooks the lake is the masterpiece of Astor’s creations when he decided that the sculptures he owned needed a home. The view of the shore from the lake when pedalling a boat it’s majestic.
Art Deco palace of millionaires Virginia and Stephen Courthault, 1930s, and in the meantime still a mediaval architectural jewel. As usual, gardens, perfect cut lawns and lazy summer Sundays.
A small stretch of land floating on a ocean gives way to a long and wide beach with sand dunes, plants and pine forest glittering in the striking daylight of Ile de Re.
Wooden striped fence is giving the impression the land belongs to someone and is dividing the public to the private space. A very cozy idea of communal areas. Pebble paved alleys take you to the village, like in a maze you want to wonder undisturbed by any local on the torrid afternoon. White washed houses are painting the architecture of the island, and only the light green shutters, doors and gates are allowed to break out into the landscape. Well, besides the pine forests. The villages are hosting handicraft markets, food markets on any occasion, Sunday, weekday, night markets. There are some ruins of an abbey, windmills, light houses, picturesque ports but the beach…the beach is like no other. The sky is high and light so bright, there is nothing to stop the light to spread itself on the island, just openess. The dunes of sand on the mild honey colour just before dawn is relaxing the eye now and sand plants are decorating the landscape better than any other accessory would do it. The high tide is stealing away the beach to the voraceous tourist of sea comfort.
The Ivy Gardens and Restaurant Chelsea
Incerc sa gasesc farmecul acestei plaje de pe malul Dunarii. Plecand de la aerul orasului ancorat undeva in anii ’90-2000, plaja imi creeaza un sentiment de autenticitate, nealterata de invazia turistilor in masa, plaja virgina unde doar localnicii isi odihnesc trupurile in soarele batran. Ba ma gandesc si la Vama Veche, la inceputuri, asa cum mi-o imaginez eu caci nu am fost nicodata, chiar si la Balcik unde se regaseau personajele lui Anton Holban.
Pacla fina se asternu peste padurea care se ridica in valea Cernei si o perdea deasa de ploaie cadea dincolo de fereastra balconului de la etanul 6 al hotelului Roman unde ea venea deja a doua oara. Muntele oferea un sentiment de dainuire de-a lungul timpul, marturie a existentei indelungate pe aceste meleaguri a zeilor, caci parea sa fi fost valea lor unde se scaldau, erau fericiti, se desfatau in izvoarea termale datatoare de viata si sanatate, faceau amor, convietuiau cu toate vietatile fara nici o umbra de pericole si eforturi. Nu stiu ce cataclism a dus la disparitia lor. Pe aceste meleaguri au venit si s-au asezat romanii, regalitatile au construit o statiune plina de dantelarii arhitecturale ba amintindu-ti de Regenta ba de simplitatea romana. Un alt cataclism uman a dus la ruinarea acestor cladiri si a profanarii lor. Nu poti sa te impotrivesti vremurilor, si decadenta are dulceata ei, o nostalgie a ceea ce a fost si ar fi putut fi.
Hotelul pastreaza aerul de odinioara, nu se desparte de trecut pornind de la basorelieful lui Hercules care se pastreaza in muzeul de langa baile romane pana la camerele care se lupta intre modernism si mobilier desuet. Nu ma deranjeaza catusi de putin atata timp cat am muntele in fata mea, baile termale la discretie atat cele de la piscina hotelului, de la baza de tratament si de pe valea Cernei. Atata timp cat aceste personaje rapace de pe scena politica si administrativa a tarii nu se lacomesc sa modernizeze o albie de rau de milenii doar ca sa taxeze cu 10 Ron accesul la cloaca. Cloaca este tot farmecul. Este cadru abrupt, natural si pentru toata lumea. Este un pic de comunism ideal. Pentru toata lumea. Egalitate, fara eforturi costisitoare. Te arunca in mijlocul naturii si e atemporala. Acest proces defaimator si alterant de modernizare nu are ce cauta in valea rezervatiei naturale Domogled. Ar fi benefic si util ca orice specimen biped pus pe vandut de tara si instaurator de kitch, prost gust si simt sa se abtina sa puna mana pe frumusetile si bogatiile naturale ale tarii care sunt patrimoniu national nu un castig ieftin pentru generatia de ignoranti ajunsa, in lipsa elitelor intelectuale sa acceseze tezaurul inestimabil al Romaniei.