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Te-ai băgat la somn cu vreo oră,două înaintea lui. El mai stă pe laptop, la un serial, la un joc, mai lucrează ceva sau citește (acum dacă se uită la porn, treaba lui). Când vine să-și revendice locul în pat, întâmpină ceva dificultăți: tu te-ai lățit fain-frumos pe diagonală, întinsă pe burtă, cu brațul drept pe lângă corp și celălalt adunat la nivelul umărului, cu cotul în afară. Piciorul stâng ocupă grațios un colț al patului, în timp ce dreptul atentează în mod autoritar spre celălalt colț. Pletele cam ciufulite ți se revarsă pe ambele perne, ba chiar ai reușit să ocupi câte un sfert din fiecare cu maiestuosul tău cap.
Așa, și acum el unde se mai culcă?
Există probabil o mulțime de variante la întâmplarea asta, dar eu am să mă rezum la trei.
Să zicem varianta 1: tu oricum dormi ca un butuc, ca un urs în hibernare, sforâind profund în timp ce dintre buzele adunate botic pe fața de pernă se scurge un firișor drăgălaș de salivă. Păi nu-i rămâne decât să te împingă fin mai încolo, că tu oricum n-ai să simți, eventual ai să horcăi de vreo două ori în sforăitu-ți dulce și ai să reiei simfonia cu și mai multă dedicație.
După ce se instalează și el pe jumătatea lui de pat, eventual te întorci pe spate și-i arzi un dos de palmă involuntar peste falcă.
Varianta 2: tu dormi ca un iepuraș fricos, gata să sară din pat la fiecare scârțâială a podelii sau pocnitură a mobilei de prin casă. Ca să poți adormi, ai nevoie de niște dopuri de urechi foarte eficiente. Din nefericire, încă nu s-au invetat cele care să-ți acopere etanș canalele auditive, așa că tot reușești să auzi că s-a deschis ușa, că își târșâiește el șlapii pe podele, cum se împiedică de șlapii tăi, dibuind pe întuneric, pentru că dacă aprinde lumina e Jale, așa, cu J mare. Așa că de cum ajunge și el în dormitor începi să te vaieți jumătate adormită ca și cum te-ar fi pocnit cineva pe tine în somn și toată treaba nu se încheie până când nu se strecoară și el, cumva, în pat.
Aici fie te împingi cu fundul în el, ca să te simți în siguranță, fie te ia el în brațe, fie te întorci și-l acaparezi ca un păianjen drăgăstos.
Varianta 3: vine în dormitor, vede cum te-ai lățit iar ca vaca, și se gândește că până aici. Ia aparatul foto, îți trântește câteva poze din cele mai nasoale unghiuri, una care să facă părul abia mijit pe picioare să arate ca jungla amazoniană, alta care să-ți facă fundul să pară cât un camion, a treia cu focus pe gura căscată și dinții care parcă mușcă dintr-un măr imaginar, și ultima în care se vede clar gaura de la umăr, din tricoul în care dormi. Bingo! Răzbunarea ajuge imediat pe internet, după care omul se așează pe pat, te împinge cu piciorul, tu mormăi deranjată, se bagă și el la somn satisfăcut.
Nu știu câți dintre voi vă gândiți că până și în somn sunteți zei și zeițe desprinse din Soare, din Lună și din minunile nevăzute ale Universului. Eu personal am convingerea că atunci când dormim nu arătăm nici a etaloane de frumusețe, dar nici a creaturile pădurile, sau mai rău, ale iadului. Probabil că arătăm doar total relaxați (discutabil și asta). Dacă chiar vrei să-ți bați joc de cineva, îl pozezi după ce l-ai trezit brutal și cu siguranță vei obține o imagine deloc măgulitoare. Bine, s-ar putea să obții și un pumn în plină față, dar na, cine nu riscă nu câștigă și nu ajunge să aibă falca umflată.
Mă gândesc la întâmplarea cu Katy Perry și bărbat-su, fost, Russel Brand. Ăsta s-a găsit la un moment dat să o pozeze cu ochii abia mijiți din somn, de arăta săraca femeie ca o mâță jigărită, chinuită, cum a și postat-o pe Twitter. Normal că gagica l-a lăsat, de la mine cred că se trezea într-o bună dimineață cu o găleată de geață aruncată peste el în pat, sau o oală de supă fierbinte. Sau, de ce nu, drogat, apoi dezbrăcat în curul gol și chemat niște prieteni să-l transporte cu o pătură așa în fața blocului.
De unde știu povestea cu cântăreața?
Nu, nu sunt mare consumtoare de știri cu vedete. M-am abonat anul ăsta la revista Glamour, pentru că îmi prinde bine să mă țin la curent cu tendințele la modă nu atât vestimentare, cât de machiaj. E o revistă glossy destul de ok, mai și cu un articol pe stil de viață sănătos (de la alimentație la mișcare și stare de bine), mai cu câte un articol pe social sau poveștile unor persoane care au trecut prin lucruri deloc comune (cum a fost americanca închisă cu prietenul ei vreo 2-3 ani pe la arabi, trecuseră granița undeva în munți cu câțiva metri în partea… parcă irakiană?). O citesc la serviciu, ca să nu am doar lecturi serioase.
Aici am aflat și de povestea lui Ketty Perry și apoi i-am văzut poza pe internet. Săraca.
Eu și cu el lucrăm după programe diferite, deși în același domeniu. El face doar ture de noapte, așa-numitele wake-in, din mai multe motive, printre care și că noaptea nu prea are bătaie de cap, în afară de 2 ore la început de program, 2 la sfârșit și câteva solicitări pe parcurs. Eu am program cu sleep-in, adică atunci când rămân la serviciu peste noapte pot dormi de la 22:00 la 7:00, ceea ce și fac.
Bineînțeles că el doarme peste zi, uneori chiar și în zilele noastre libere comune (pe care ni le-am rezervat așa) îi e greu să doarmă noaptea, face eforturi să stea cu mine cât se poate, până cedează. De exemplu astăzi după ce am fost la prăjitură, apoi la plimbare câteva ore după-amiază prin Poole, ne-am întors acasă, am mâncat și acum el doarme ca un motan, de vreo oră jumătate.
N-o să vă descriu cum își ține brațele, capul, picioarele, ce sunele produce sau cât de adânc îi e somnul. Am glumit, am făcut haz, am râs, dar mie una mi-e foarte drag să mă uit la el cum doarme. E liniștitor. Plus că e o minunăție de bărbat chiar și adormit. Cum poartă barbă și are obrajii frumoși, arată chiar ca un motan care tronează maiestuos între perne și plapumă.
Este și asta o măsură a afecțiunii și intimității dintre doi oameni. Dacă găsești compania celuilalt plăcută, caldă, atrăgătoare și în somn, înseamnă că într-adevăr aveți o legătură care merită păstrată.
On the last day of the Chinese year recently ended, I woke up with such a good vibe. I could almost feel it flow in my veins and everything ran smoothly that day. Then, sometimes during the first day of this Chinese year, which was 1st of February, I realised it. Please let me share with you this revelation extracted from the ancient Far East pot of wisdom.
From 10th of February 2013 to the 31st of January the Water Snake dominated the year Chinese astrology. And I don’t know of you realise this, BUT… apparently, according to information from the news (heard it on the radio), it has been the wettest year in records at least for Hampshire and Dorset. Also, don’t you see how popular the word “flood” has become during this year? Mainly associated with Romanians and Bulgarians, but doesn’t this make us think what if astrology actually works? It’s almost as if the crappy side of the British media and politics, as well as many people buying into it, were hypnotised by the power of the snake and their minds have been beamed with a flow of cosmic energy making them obsessed with “floods, floods, floods, floods”.
Sorry, I’m not trying to hypnotise you myself.
Now, ancient cosmic theories aside, should I feel like a drop in an ocean of Romanians flooding Britain to the brim? I highly doubt it. And I find it quite unlikely that many of the people back in my home country would “invade” the shores of the UK from now on, as there is actually not much reason for them to do so.
(Photo: In London for the first time, March 2011)
For starters, I would refer to myself and my family. Apart from my two cousins who live in Germany since 1991, as their mother was a German ethnic and as such granted the right to move there even when Romanians still needed a visa to cross the borders into Western Europe, I am the only one who decided to go abroad. As much as I fought the idea of one day settling in another country, it has finally happened. And to think years ago, when I was studying on a scholarship in Denmark (2000) or when an Au Pair in the US (2003-2004), it never even crossed my mind to stay there. On the contrary, I completely rejected the idea.
It’s not that my brother and sister-in-law wouldn’t even consider moving abroad. It’s just that they really have what they need back in Romania. Ok, we’re not talking of a bright financial situation, jobs paid at a Western European rate, or anything like this. But they do have jobs, they have a family, they have friends and maybe even prospects of working on a small private business. They’ve got debts as well, but manageable.
I can’t see my brother deciding to go and live thousands of kilometres away from our parents, from the place we grew up in. Not to say that he also stays with our grandmother, helping her at the same time (she’s over 80 now), and helping my parents renovate the house for when they’ll move in when my dad becomes a pensioner, in couple of years from now.
That is one particular case, of course, of me and my family back in Romania. But from my own experience I can say that it’s unlikely that much more Romanians would come to work in the UK. The evidence I have about this might be anecdotal, but it makes sense as well, it’s much more logical than the obsessive political speech of UKIP leaders “they will flood, they will scrounge, they will plunder and pillage” (yes, apparently some people’s speeches haven’t evolved much since the Middle Ages).
First, the British public is mostly uninformed. I guess it wasn’t serving the political agenda to give the whole information and not mislead them. On my surfing through comments over articles I have seen numerous time people who had no idea on the reality of Romanians rights to settle and work in the UK since 2007. When saying I myself am a Romanian working and living here, I was asked how do I do this if it was illegal for me until 2014. People clearly didn’t know and some of them still don’t. Only yesterday I’ve read the same commentator on Huffington Post stating twice that Romanians needed visas in the 2007-2014 period of time.
The reality is that Romanians who wanted to come and work in the UK had a lot more opportunities to do so than the public knows. First, they could be self-employed, and this was not so difficult to do in industries like construction. Yes, it was recommended that they came with some money upon them to buy tools and a van, but sometimes all it took was another fellow countryman who would have these available and would offer somebody else the opportunity to come and work with them. When I first came to the UK, I was hosted by some friends of my partner’s, whom he used to work with in construction back in Bucharest for years.
Then people could come here through different job agencies based in Romania. Many of the ones enrolled at the same college as me for a qualification in Health and Social Care did just that. Paying such an agency was a bit of a rip off, and sometimes they wouldn’t really do much for you. This path implied people having money to pay the agency (around £600), pay for an overpriced plane ticket offered by the same agency (around £200 one way at least), pay to enrol college (£500), have between £600-£1000 to deposit in the bank needed in order to apply for a work permit and then have money on them so they could rent a room while studying and waiting to be able to get a job. That’s quite an investment, isn’t it? I just skipped the agency part, fortunately, going straight to college, and being helped by friends to start with.
So there was also the path I took. Get the information, go join college, study every day for a month, then qualify through a work placement. It was quite easy for somebody who had the guts, had some support and was ready to go and work even in other parts of the country, other than London. Work placement was also essential for studying, that is why when joining college all of us applied for a Yellow Card, which was giving us the right to work as students, full time in the industry as an essential part of the vocational training. And in Health and Social Care it is, one needs work related experience to get the qualification.
When I finished the daily training in London, ready for distance studying now, I went to the students’ welfare person at the college and asked him to help me with work placement. My English was really good, I was a driver, I had a good CV, so I got a job in less than a month and moved to the South, where I still live today. After one year of legally working and paying taxes, I could apply for a Blue Card, which was the proof I was by law entitled to work without restrictions in the UK. I am pretty sure most of the British public don’t have a clue about these laws, as most of the employers didn’t either, unless they sometimes worked with such colleges when in desperate need to fill in some job vacancies nobody seemed keen on.
Now when I got my job here and I moved in the area I was greeted by a Romanian co-worker. He came to the UK with his then girlfriend, now wife, the same way as I did. We all support people with learning disabilities either in a residential setting, or supported living, as employees of a big company working nationally, with a few homes locally open in New Forest. The Romanian who has worked for the longest in these homes has been around for about 5 years. Then there came the couple, then another Romanian lady and me. The last of our nationals came here through an agency and only for temporary work, as he needs to save money to buy a family home back in the country.
The people who have been the longest with the company are all British English. This is for me a good barometer for the fact that they don’t prefer foreign workers over local ones. Also, during the three years I’ve been here there have been more than six British locals employed, more than us, the Romanians who came here over a time span of 7 years.
Knowing all these, it’s so difficult for me to buy into the whole “foreigners steal jobs of British people” thing. The same happens with the other arguments given, that we work for illegal low payment and we live in crammed shared houses. The only ones here (out of the mentioned people) who have quite a bunch of house mates of many different nationalities are me and my partner, and we only do this as we’ve saved for studying further and starting a small business and, after all, we don’t have a family yet.
Also, us the Romanians working for the company have the same hourly payment as all the young British people who were recently hired.
I must say that, not even one year in the field, one of my colleagues went on a maternity leave and at that time, February 2012, it was a nightmare getting somebody else for a job. The manager had to struggle to find somebody, a young local, in the end. For couple of months I’ve done loads of overtime to help cover, but the money came handy as well. Ever since, it has been easier to find locals for the jobs. Only at the end of last year there were many applications for another job vacancy recently open.
The information I have from UKBA, where I had to apply for my work permits, which now are no longer required, and my own experience tell me that indeed there must have been some kind of a cosmic snake playing with people’s minds into making them believe they would be drowned in vast numbers of Romanians.
As I said before on other blogs and discussion boards, a very high percentage of people who wanted to find work in another country already did so. Many of them have moved back to Romania now from Spain and Italy, having saved enough money to buy a house, to start a business, or even live off bank interests on their deposits. Even the ones who never really imagined to do this and used to think of themselves changing our home country (like I did) have ended up in the UK and elsewhere. The ones who stayed either have a situation, family, friends that they don’t want to leave, or don’t have means to do the big leap and get better jobs in Western country.
It’s really difficult to imagine Romanians from deprived regions somehow getting the money to buy plane tickets and live in London or another British city/town until they find a job. The most poverty stricken of them (I came to hate the phrase because of over-usage in political propaganda) live in the countryside. Still, in their humble homes and worn out clothing, they have a vegetable garden which helps feed themselves and their families, chicken in the yard, a cow in a barn. They have neighbours they can always go over for a shot of rachie or tuica, the national plum brandy, to curse the Romanian government and discuss the hottest topics in the news and in low-quality tv shows. Even the safety of your own poverty in the village you grew up in is better than going to another country where you would be seen as a filthy beggar, thief or benefit scrounger. And with no clear prospects to get a job, who’d want to burrow couple of hundred quid just to fly and risk living on the streets of London, such a big city, where nobody could understand them, nobody would give a rotten penny on them and, on the contrary, they might become subjects to crime and violence?
Now let’s hope that the Water Snake gone, so will the floods. Maybe this Chinese year of the Wooden Horse will bring more action, energy and pro-activeness, that if we believe in cosmic forces beamed over our heads. Astrology or no astrology, it all depends on us, in the end. I am this incurable believer in the capacity humanity has to evolve and control its own destiny in the end.
Wait… wooden horse… are those hordes of foreigners now preparing to take over Britain by ancient means of trickery? Might be, as we’re already here. No need for paranoia though, most of us (over 99%, according to figures offered by the Romanian Ambassador, whom I found to be the most reliable source over 2013) work, pay taxes, contribute, are in the prime of our lives, fit and healthy, skilled and ready to work. Everything which was invested in us back home through education and FREE medical care (I was save numerous times by Romanian doctors, no payment involved, from death by asthma attack or pneumonia or complication due to bronchitis, but since here never once had the flu even) now pays off in British taxes. If anybody is ready to take off their dark glasses of fear they might discover some great people to have a pint with at the local pub or to share some baking, travelling or motoring tips with.