Elefantelul in magazinul cu borcane :-)

In ultimele luni m-am straduit sa-i gatesc sotului felurile sale preferate, avand in vedere ca in curand voi pleca si el nu este pasionat de invartitul tigailor sau de aburitul oalelor. Am ales sa fac pui in stil Honolulu, dar am uitat sa cumpar ardei copti, unul din ingredientele esentiale. Cum acesta se adauga la urma, am pregatit mancarica si, pe mla ora la care stiam ca va sosi de la munca, i-am dat un apel, cerandu-mi scuze ca-l rog sa faca efortul de-a culege de la magazin un borcan de ardei copti.
Este important de stiut ca ardeii copti se gasesc pe toate rafturile, in timp ce gogosarii murati nu prea exista in magazine. De fiecare data cand am avut nevoie, a trebuit sa merg pe la magazinele romanesti ca sa am cu ce pregati salata de boeuf, de exemplu.
Revenind la istoria initiala, ma trezesc cu sotiorul acasa, obosit mort, cu apele curgand pe el dupa atata munca, dar mandru ca mi-a adus doua borcane de ardei copti. Sau de gogosari murati.
Cum as fi putut sa-l cert ca mi-a venit acasa cu asa ceva, cand era amarat ca vai de el si bucuros, in acelasi timp, ca mi-a adus ce i-am cerut? N-am putut insa sa nu rad cu drag de el si sa nu-l intreb cum a facut de-a reusit sa descopere gogosarii murati pe care-i caut de ani de zile, si nu a vazut sirurile de borcane cu ardei copti. Pai s-a dus la raftul de alimente biologice, pe la care eu nu dau nici sa ma pici cu ceara.
Eh, macar acum am cu ce sa-i fac salata de boeuf, chiar daca nu planuisem.
Stiu ca femeile isi au locul la cratita (da, da!) si ca barbatii au spirit de vanatori, dar oare barbatii sunt programati genetic sa nu faca deosebirea intre borcane? Sau intre orice feluri de alimente? (cica si tatal lui ii aducea mamei patrunjel in loc de leustean). Bine ca de Pasti fac eu cumparaturile, ca altfel m-as putea trezi ca fac ciorba de cal in loc de miel.

Montreal Rules Monopoly

While reading about the new Monopoly version, I was extremely curious to find out which cities would replace Boardwalk and Park Place, the two spots I would be able to kill for while playing the game. My husband knows the drill and even when he ends up with both of them, we still work out some sort of a deal and they become mine.
Big was my surprise (and disappointment) to find out that MONTREAL ( say what?) would be taking Boardwalk's place, while Riga would come in second, on the Park Place spot. Montreal, you say? How about Rome, Madrid, London, Barcelona? Why Montreal? And why are there three Canadian cities on the board? The answer is simple: Canadians are a very proud people, I have to give them that, and are French Canadians are even worse. They knew about the proposal, they voted, and they got it.
I know that from now on I'll be fighting for the light blue, red and orange properties, all for sentimental reasons.
The winning cities are:

Dark Blue: Montreal, Riga
Green: Cape Town, Belgrade, Paris
Yellow: Jerusalem, Hong Kong, Beijing
Red: London, New York, Sydney
Orange: Vancouver, Shanghai, Rome
Magenta: Toronto, Kyiv, Istanbul
Light Blue: Athens, Barcelona, Tokyo
Brown: Taipei, Gdynia

By the way, Toronto is so much more beautiful than Montreal. And Quebec is absolutely gorgeous. And I'm kind of sad that Bucharest (or Constanta :-D ) are not there, but what could I expect?

Source: CTV

Saint Joseph's Oratory Moments

I had no idea there were pilgrims who would climb the stairs to an Oratory on their knees. Do they feel like they get closer to God by doing this? If He wanted us to go through such pain, why did He send Jesus to us? On the other hand, if you still want to show your humility and remorse, I'd better see you on a cross, with blood gushing from your hands and feet.
When did it become fashionable to have your picture taken while you light candles for the ones you love? I know the votive chapel was mesmerizing, I did take some pictures myself, but I didn't feel the need to appear in them! While you're at it, why not take pictures of you hi-fiving Jesus's statue or french kissing Virgin Mary's icons?
Among other things that impressed me (the whole Oratory is breathtaking), there were two places where you could get guidebooks with information about the Oratory's history and attractions, to say so. The amazing thing is that they weren't sold by anyone. You could take them freely, but you were kindly asked by a few written signs to put 2 dollars in the box next to the case. I saw some people taking a leaflet and leaving one toonie, and I saw many more grabbing the book and continuing their way without becoming 2 dollars poorer. Maybe they missed the signs. Or maybe they didn't.

Cum ne-ar denumi extratereştrii dac-ar vorbi română?

În timp ce mă ocupam eu frumuşel de traducerea filmului "Meet Dave", dau la un moment dat de cuvântul "alien", pe care, evident, trebuia să-l înlocuiesc cu echivalentul din română. Instantaneu antenuţele îmi transmit termenul "extraterestru", aşa că dau să-mi continuu liniştită treaba. Dar stai aşa, că nu-i aşa! Extraterestru, dacă nu mă înşel eu, se referă la cineva sau ceva care nu este de pe... Terra, logic. Perfect, minunat, numai că în filmuleţul respectiv cuvântul "alien" este folosit chiar de nişte... aliens, exact. Deci noi eram extratereştrii în contextul ăsta. Numai că noi nu suntem extratereştri. Are sens ce bolmojesc eu aici? Mă rog, după ce am stat să mă gândesc puţin şi după ce-am răsfoit câteva dicţionare, fără însă a găsi un sinonim aproape perfect al cuvântului, m-am oprit la "pământean".
Asta m-a trimis cu gândul la modul în care Columb şi Cortez i-au descris pe amerindieni când au ajuns în Noile Indii. Amerindienii ăştia erau nişte sălbatici cu înfăţişare ciudată, cu obiceiuri ciudate, cu limbaj ciudat, cu mod de viaţă ciudat... ce mai, totul era ciudat. Atât de ciudat, de fapt, încât în descrierile lor, C&C au fost nevoiţi să recurgă la comparaţii cu lucruri deja cunoscute de ei, dar care aparţineau unor neamuri străine şi inferioare, desigur, cum erau evreii şi musulmanii de pe teritoriul Spaniei. Aşa aflăm, de exemplu, că amerindienii aveau moschei. Nu era deja evident ?
Toată abrambureala asta vrea să ducă la o idee relativ simplă: percepţia este subiectivă. Da, ştiu, am descoperit America! Pe lângă asta, în general se ia în calcul versiunea celui care se află într-o poziţie avantajată (pe diferite planuri). I-a întrebat cineva pe amerindieni ce cred ei despre minunaţii cuceritori ? Dacă li se par ciudaţi sau nu ? Dar maurilor şi evreilor, le-a cerut cineva părerea cu privire la nivelul de evoluţie al creştinilor ? Aşa şi noi, românii (în cazul ăsta), ne limităm la cuvântul "extraterestru" (înlocuit uneori cu "marţian", pentru variaţie), deoarece nu vedem de ce am avea nevoie de alţi termeni pentru a exprima noţiunea de entitate externă. Doar extratereştrii ăştia nu există, deci cum ar ajunge ei să vorbească despre noi ? Da, dar cică nici amerindienii "nu existau" înainte de 1492.

Image source: wpclipart.com

Americans, Stop the Hypocrysy and Start Acting!

I'm so sick of all this American drama and hypocrisy!!! Take the tv show called "America's Got Talent", add in a soldier who's just returned from Iraq, spice it up with regular singing skills and what do you get? A whole new level of screaming in awe, appreciation and national pride. I'm pretty sure this guy wouldn't have gone through to the next level had he not been wearing that military uniform. The judges were in tears, and they even called his wife to join him on stage, while the audience were waving their hands as if they were attending a friggin' Michael Jackson concert or something. Not to mention the hero's exit ("hero" being one of the few terms I don't use lightly here), covered by Mariah Carey's song... ta-da-da!!! Hero, obviously.
My dearest Americans (although I should say "United Staters", since "Americans" refers to the people living all over the three American continents), if you appreciate your troops that much, why do you keep on voting for that amazing President of yours, Bush, who cares about nothing else than money and oil? If you cherish your army men so much, why do you support the war in Iraq and swallow all the bs that the Government is feeding you? Or are you in such a need for heroes that you'd rather send young people to war zones and get them wounded, or even dead, instead of letting them stay home and enjoy life together with their families, just like the rest of you? I guess the U.S. of A. are nothing without all that fake appreciation and crocodile tears. Maybe you don't feel like you have enough to be proud of, so you need to create your own plastic reasons by sending people to die for utopic rights and liberties. No matter what your reasons are, at least stop pretending to care after the harm has been done and learn to accept your guilt.

6

friend
hazard
ideals
relief
temple
labour
humour
kisses
island
jiggle
elated
reseed
forget
softly
refill
temper
resent
joyous
flower
thorns
hoping
shield
encore
gazing
family
... some of the 6-letter words that make up our 6 years of marriage. I'm happy we've got to where we are.

Is the 3rd Time Really a Charm?

These last few weeks, my stomach has behaved like one of those super duper Whirlpool washing machines, 'cause what would my life be without these self provoked adrenaline rushes? So I got accepted at the UAB, and after reconsidering all my options, I pretty much decided to stick with it and give up on Granada, because by the time I would get an answer from them I should already be in Barcelona, and I'm not THAT big of a risk taker. Although you never know what I could cook up at the last minute.

Next step, buying a plane ticket, of course. After long hours of browsing the Internet and calling travel agencies, I've finally found a 520$ ticket to Barcelona for September 25 (Air Transat kind of rocks, btw! For now, at least...). It looked good to me, since I knew that I had to show up for registration on September 29 & 30, so after harassing my husband with messages and phone calls for about an hour (it's a miracle he didn't get fired!), I decided to buy it. After having sung "Kumbaya" and danced around the fire for joy, the next day I get a welcome message from the UAB and a handbook, which also mentioned that the first semester starts on September 15. Madonna, what do I do now?!!! Miss two weeks out of a one-year Master's programme? No way I could do that. First thing was to send my best wishes to those who offer all this "clear" information, after which I spent another day or so (until half an hour ago, to be more exact) looking for a similar plane ticket before September 15. After many calls, e-mails and an additional 150$, it looks like I'll be leaving September 13... well, almost September 14, since the departure time is 10.05 pm, so I shouldn't have too much bad luck. The plane will probably spend two extra hours on the runway anyway, so I'm safe.

While freaking out over the ticket issue, I was also looking for housing. Can't really afford to stay in Barcelona, and I don't se the point in living too far from the university, so I set my eyes on the university campus in Bellaterra. I would like to live alone at first, until I know whom I'm moving in with, so I decided to rent an individual room for about 270 euros. Same thing, write to them, wait for an answer... "We're sorry, these appartments are only for Bachellor's level students, but we'll be happy to offer you an individual room in our new appartments for students at the Graduate level for only 745 euros a month. Or you could share a room for half of this amount." Don't you say so! I'll get back to you once I speak with my manager. So now I'm still looking for a room and waiting for some answers. Plus other things, 'cause I just like it that way.

Truth is sometimes I get tired. I'm getting close to needing some kind of stability. It's true that I'm married, so I do have a family, but I would like to be able to call a place "home", to have a decent job, and make babies. On the other hand, my adventurous spirit and my eternal search for that Spanish experience won't let me rest until I've done my best to achieve my goals. People have always said to me "It's your age that gives you the guts to do it." I was told that when I left Romania, at 19. Two years later, my cousin gave me this line when I left for Canada, under a bit of an adverse omen. She was 30 at the time. Well, now I'm in between 27 and 28 years of age, and I still get that "It's your age..." phrase when talking about Spain. I don't think that's true. I wouldn't have the same guts if I were 70, obviously, but up to some point I think my main drive is my relentless ambition. It may also be stupid ambition, but it's mine and I have to pursue it. I get scared sometimes, I worry a lot, but I need to go on. I know my decisions affect other people, but I'm really doing my best to find a ballance here. I'm trying not to be too selfish, but I also have to follow one of my biggest dreams. I wouldn't want to resent anyone for the rest of my life for not having been able to take this chance. And I honestly do appreciate all the support I've been getting.
So here I am, shooting for the unknown for the third time. Hopefully, it will be the last time. But it might as well not be. We'll see.

Photo source: mind-mapping.co.uk

Luaţi un SEXAPIL şi o aspirină de două ori pe zi

Acum un an râdeam pe ascuns de spanioli, care au luat anumite cuvinte din engleză şi le-au tradus literal în limba lor. Astfel, "hot dog" a devenit "perrito caliente" ("căţeluş cald") şi "heavy metal" este "metal pesado" ("metal greu").
Ei bine, acum, în timp ce verificam un cuvânt în DEX, am rămas stupefiată la descoperirea cuvântului "sexapil". Am zis c-o fi vreun medicament descoperit de curând, aşa că m-am apucat să-i citesc definiţia; la câte boli mă apasă pe mine, sigur mi-ar fi fost util într-un fel. Din păcate (sau din fericire), se pare că singurul lucru pe care îl poate vindeca este lipsa de... companie, desigur. A nu se confunda cu Viagra. Rezultă faptul că ne-am săturat să folosim versiunile româneşti precum "nuri" sau "farmec", şi-am apelat la limba engleză. Eu chiar n-am nicio problemă cu asta, având în vedere propriul mod de exprimare, dar parcă era mai bine să lăsăm cuvântul scris ca în engleză, decât să-l stâlcim în halul ăsta.

Sauteed Spiders, Anyone?

My mouth is watering, my eyes are wide open, and my papillae are experiencing what you might call "a culinary orgasm". All of these because I'm watching a documentary on Animal Planet about insect eating in Thailand. Yummm!!!
When I arrived in New York, in 2000, my cousin's husband used to work in an upscale Chinese restaurant. Without knowing that fancy new yorkers wouldn't think of eating such things as ants or snakes, the first thing I asked him was whether he could bring me any kind of insect to try. Of course he answered "No", but he still offered to bring me some orange pork or Chinese noodles. Imagine the disappointment!
And now I'm watching this show and seeing all those people enjoy the wonderful larvae, spiders and crickets... My husband says I'm a freak. He might be right, but I still hope (and will do my best) to one day be able to enjoy those delicacies. Mmmmm!!!

Not Such a "MERRY"-go-round!

As I was looking over some of the photos we took in Spain last year, I discovered one taken at the amusement park in Logroño. It's the picture of what could look at first like a regular merry-go-round, but after a second it turns out to be a "live" merry-go-round. Indeed, those ponies are real, and I can still remember the shock we had when discovering that people had thought of using ponies in such way. Where were the Human Rights activists, what were the police doing? The only ones "protesting" against this kind of abuse were the park's patrons themselves, who simply refused to ride or to let their kids use such a carousel.
They even had name tags! And this happened in Spain, a modern, Western European country, in the year 2007!

Am intrat la Masterat! ¡Me aceptaron en Barcelona!

Da... deci M-AU ACCEPTAT! Nu m-aşteptam să-mi răspundă imediat şi să-mi scrie că în curând voi primi un mesaj oficial înştiinţându-mă că am fost acceptată în programul de Master al Universităţii Autonome din Barcelona... dar aşa s-a-ntâmplat! Plânsete, eliberare de stres, telefoane, fericire... acum am mai multă forţă să continuu, să aplic la încă o universitate sau două ca să-mi fac eu damblaua. Ideea e că m-a acceptat a doua universitate de pe lista mea, şi prima la care am aplicat. Astăzi mă simt cam bine :-))). Oţi fi voi vai de capul vostru când vine vorba de procedura academică, dar tot sunt topită după voi şi vreau să vă cotropesc ţara!

¡¡¡¡Sííííííííí!!!! ¡Me aceptaron en España, a la Universidad Autónoma de Barcelona! ¡Feliz, emocionada, asombrada, llena de esperanza... y muy, muy feliz, claro :-)))!

Da' tărâţe de borş ai?

Nici nu ştiu dacă să fierb de nervi sau să mă bucur că îi interesează persoana mea. Eh, deocamdată aleg prima variantă.... vorba vine, că reacţia a sosit în mod involuntar. Deci aplic eu frumuşel la o universitate din Spania, gândindu-mă că nu mă vor accepta deoarece nu pot trimite traducerea oficială a foii matricole până la data limită a înscrierilor (chestii birocratice, nu contează), ca să nu mai vorbesc de problemele apărute cu formularul electronic de înscriere, ca să primesc din partea lor un e-mail cerându-mi lămuriri în legătură cu nivelul meu de limbă spaniolă!!! Nu tu vorbă de foaie matricolă, nu tu "pâs" de problemuţele respective, ci dovedeşte-ne că ştii limba spaniolă! Băi deştepţilor (mi-oţi fi voi dragi, da' când vine vorba de administraţie...), la ce naiba serveşte diploma pe care v-am trimis-o şi care spune clar că m-am licenţiat cu distincţie în Specializare spaniolă, secţia expresie şi cultură? Da' diploma aia care spune că am terminat un curs avansat de limbă spaniolă chiar la voi acasă, cu media 9,50 (care era 9,75, dar nu vă plac decât rotunjirile în defavoarea studentului)? Da' descrierea tuturor cursurilor luate şi notişoarele alea de A, cam ce vă spun ele? Da' când scrieţi pe site că e nevoie fie de un certificat, fie de cursuri de limba spaniolă, voi ce vreţi de fapt? Deci acum vă trimit frumuşel diploma mea de bacalaureat, chiar dacă nu era nevoie, să vedeţi că şi pe aia am un 10 la spaniolă, vă trimit şi recomandările profesorilor (că nu mi le-aţi cerut prima oară, şi-am zis să nu vă-ncarc cu hârţogăraie), din care veţi afla şi c-am lucrat ca asistent de profesor, şi-o să vă spun şi că fac spaniolă din clasa a IV-a... poate vreţi şi foaia matricolă. Să vedem, oare e suficient? Sau o să mă băgaţi şi pe mine pe lista respinşilor, ca pe toţi nefericiţii din etapa anterioară, spunând că n-am putut dovedi nivelul meu de spaniolă? Deci să-mi bag piciorul!

Image source

New "CSI" Episode Featuring Italy

I've just read on Yahoo! that Italians have started fingerprinting Gypsies from the nomad camps outside Roma, Milan and Naples, which determined human rights activists to accuse them of racism and whatnot. I can't help but wonder how come that the U.S. are allowed to fingerprint every living soul entering their territory by plane, while a European's country way of protecting itself and the hundreds of children send to beg every day is seen as a major violation of human rights? I know Italy's main reason is that of controlling the incoming population, but why not take advantage of the fact that this might also reduce the number of children who have to steal and ask for money instead of playing and going to school? Maybe it would have been better if, instead of fingerprinting Roma people, Italy would have kicked out every Gypsy and every Romanian living there, followed by imposing visas on all Romanians willing to travel to Italy. At least that couldn't have been called discrimination, could it?

Image Source

HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, CANADA!!!

These days Quebec City celebrates its 400th anniversary. Impressing age that deserves a grand celebration; even I, a declared opponent of Quebec's policies and lifestyle, I went, together with my husband, to the beautiful city (why not admit it?), hoping this would be my last trip there for a loooong time. Newspapers were fighting for the most beautiful pictures and touching articles, people were eating poutine (a specific dish consisting of french fries topped with cheese and some kind of sauce) and getting drunk, politicians were giving speeches praising Quebec's heritage... all in all, the atmosphere was pretty festive.

And then came July 1, Canada's day. This year Canada turned 141. You would think that this is an even greater reason to celbrate; after all, this IS your COUNTRY'S anniversary. Well, not quite. July 1 is declared moving day in Quebec. The only province that has a moving day decided to pick Canada's day for people to move. Why should they be happy and remember that they too are a part of Canada? No, let them carry heavy pieces of furniture and get stressed over moving prices! On top of that, if you picked up next day's paper you would discover huge front page articles about the whole process of moving your precious belongings from one dwelling to the other. Not even a single word about Canada Day. Not on the first page, not on the second... and not on the last. And yet, the Prime Minister went today to Quebec City to honour its existence.










Have I ever told you that you suck? Stop remembering and start having an honourable life!

¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Te quiero, España!!!!!!!!!! ¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡¡Ya era el tiempo!!!!!!!!!!!

¡España, campeona de Europa!

Goooooooooooooooool!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Go, Torres!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Spain Doesn't Need Anyone's Sprain

One hour and a half left until the beginning of the Euro final. Three hours and 20 minutes left until Spain will take the cup.
Many were saying that Spain would have more chances if Ballack were to be left out of the game due to his muscle injury. The thought is nice (I'm so bad!), indeed, but I say Spain can beat Germany even with Ballack on the field. I've just read on Yahoo! that he'll be playing during the final, so all I can say is that victory will be that much sweeter ;-).
I love my German friends, I can hardly wait to visit them, but as far as the Euro Championship goes... it's time to step aside. It will be less painful this way :-))).

Photo Source: The New York Times

Mircea (Badea, nu cel Bătrân) şi turcii

Acum vreo 10-15 ani toată lumea mă întreba cine este idolul meu, dar eu nu aveam niciun răspuns de dat. Da, îmi lipeam afişe cu Joe Lando şi Jason Priestley pe uşă, visam să-l văd pe Al Pacino la ceremonia Oscarurilor, îmi doream să fiu la fel de frumoasă şi descurcăreaţă ca una dintre prietenele mele, dar nu aveam un idol. Poate mama, dar pe ea aş numi-o mai degrabă model. Ei bine, acum, la venerabila vârstă de aproape 28 de ani, cum spun unii, m-aş putea hazarda spunând că Mircea Badea a devenit, subit şi (sper) iremediabil, idolul meu. Evident, este vorba de o exagerare datorată euforiei pe care mi-a provocat-o vizionarea videoului de mai jos, dar cum să nu recunosc faptul că devorez aproape toate înregistrările cu emisiunile sale, că nu-mi pasă dacă depăşesc limita de descărcări de pe Internet şi că al meu gât se resimte după şirul de gesturi aprobatoare la care îl supun în timpul vizionărilor?

În acest video Mircea Badea vorbeşte despre meciurile Croaţia-Turcia şi Olanda-Rusia. Eu nu am avut ocazia să urmăresc decât finalul celei de-a doua partide, dar m-am informat în legătură cu evoluţiile echipelor şi nu pot spune decât că vorbele lui Mircea Badea exprimă exact ceea ce creieraşul meu rumegă de cîteva zile. În stilul său flegmatic, dar extrem de profund, realizatorul emisiunii "În gura presei" include aceste două înfruntări în categoria lecţiilor de viaţă, lăudând îndârjirea jucătorilor turci (şi ruşi) şi lipsa cuvântului "resemnare" din vocabularul acestora. Cu astfel de demonstraţii de ambiţie, cine mai are nevoie de cărţi si filmuleţe motivaţionale?

2 Things













1. La muţi, mulţi, mulţi, mulţi ani, Mi! Nici n-are sens să-ţi repet că-ţi trimit cele mai bune gânduri. E distanţa, e diferenţa de fus orar, e perioadele care ţine mult şi bine, e unele, e altele, dar tu rămâi in sufletul meu ca un prieten "cu distincţie" :-).

2. Speaking of "distinction", I'm happy to be able to write that in a few hours I will have officially graduated with distinction from Concordia University, Montreal. I've waited for this moment for 9 years, since I was accepted at Ovidius University, Constanta, and I'm now finally able to live it. For one day I refuse to think of what the future holds, of the lack of certainty a diploma carries within itself, of the long and difficult road I have ahead. I need to enjoy this moment, and I'm so ready to do it. I can't even sleep because of how anxious and happy I am... and because I don't want for my hairdo to get ruined, as well :-P.
Am reuşit, mămăiţă!

Un trădător nenorocit

L-am intrebat astăzi pe un amic turc cum îl privesc conaţionalii săi pe Hakan Yakin, jucătorul de fotbal cu dublă cetăţenie care a marcat unicul gol al Elveţiei contra Turciei. Văzusem reacţia protagonistului, am inţeles că i-a fost greu să dea gol în poarta unei ţări al cărei cetăţean este, dar mă interesa să ştiu cum îl văd ceilalţi. De la colegul meu am inţeles că este încă iubit şi admirat în Turcia, chiar dacă joacă la altă echipă, şi că nu anticipează reacţii negative în urma evenimentului de astăzi. Nici eu n-am auzit huiduieli după marcarea golului.

N-am putut să nu-mi aduc aminte de injurăturile care mi-au fost adresate de-a lungul timpului de către mulţi români care aflau că am plecat din ţară. De la "trădătoare" şi "laşă" pînă la cuvinte pe care nu le-aş reproduce vreodată, lista a căpătat proporţii considerabile în cei 8 ani de când fac parte din diaspora româneasca. Şi eu nici măcar nu sunt persoană publică. Evident că m-am întrebat cum s-ar manifesta românii dacă un jucător "de-al nostru" (sau "de-al lor") ar fiinţa în echipa altei ţări şi, pe deasupra, ar mai şi înscrie un gol într-un meci împortiva României. Hmmm...