Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu

Day 72 – The kind of person I “used” to be


I seem to be a very different person than I was three years ago. That is not even a little bit true, but because I am more constrained by time and life priorities than back then, this seems to be the general opinion (even mine sometimes). Today, me and my better half took a ride down the memory lane and remembered one of my adventures.

I had just moved to Florence and everything seemed to shape in a natural way: nice house, nice job, lots of free time and lots of Martini’s after work hours. After six months, I got a little home sick and just wanted to jump on a plane and spend at least two hours in my beautiful Bucharest. Of course you can’t do that if you have no reason at all so, I started spending all my free time, browsing the internet to find any kind of event that needed my attention and presence back home. I couldn’t find anything for a long time and a lot of Martini drinks until… my favorite band posted an announcement that they will be singing in a private club two weeks from that date. I was set and my plan was being forged; I waited for D to come home and informed him that I had to, I just had to go to that concert, that it could be my last chance to see them perform and a lot of nonsense reasons which I can’t even remember right now. The next day my flight was booked and I couldn’t wait to get on that plane. Needless to say that those two weeks of waiting were as long as two years in my head and I couldn’t concentrate on anything else. Friday afternoon I was waiting in the airport of Rome, thinking that I got my wish: I had one night to spend in Bucharest, only one night; the next morning I had to be on the flight back. My excitement was off the charts and I think at some point I felt like brain was going to explode because of all the mixed feelings and emotions. When I stepped foot in Bucharest, I wanted to just scream to everyone that I am home, but I had no time for that and also my people get a little nervous when they see freaks like me expressing themselves. So I ran into the parking lot where my cousin was waiting to pick me up. Because I have a tone of friends and family members and they all love me (or at least that is what I want to believe), this trip was supposed to be a secret. I didn’t have the heart to tell only some of them, so I chose very carefully what to do and not hurting other people’s feelings in the process. I decided to tell only one person who was never willing to share me with anyone else that also ensuring that my secret will be safe. We met downtown and practically ran to the club where the concert was held. When we went into the club, the first impact was that everyone was smoking and although while waiting in the airport that was one of the first things I dreamed of doing, when I saw everyone smoking inside it seemed very weird and wrong. I lit a cigarette, but I remember feeling very uncomfortable and putting it out after three drags. I spent that night like it was my last night in Bucharest, like that was my last concert and my last adventure: singing at the concert (if screaming counts as singing), and then just drinking coffee after coffee downtown, constantly changing bars every thirty minutes, breathing that polluted air, admiring all the buildings, absorbing every word that my friend was telling me. When I got to the airport at 8 am, I was exhausted but very happy. D was waiting for me at the airport and because I landed in Pisa the first thing we did was to grab a coffee while watching the waves from the Marina di Pisa and telling him all about my adventure.

That is the kind of person some people say I am not anymore, but I can assure you that if given the opportunity that person is still in there, waiting at the airport to spend a night partying in Bucharest or anywhere else in the world. So, don’t make false assumptions, I can surprise the hell out of you.

P.S. I have to share one of the songs of the band I was talking about. I would fly a thousand times just to hear them play.

About the author

Ela Vasilescu

I’m a writer based in Florence, Italy.

Human nature inspires me, different cultures, traditions, folk stories and the differences which make us unique. Documenting stories is a privilege, a glimpse into humanity, an unforgettable experience, one which I embrace and honour every day.

If you have a story twitching in the back of your pocket, one that is ready to be told, shared and heard, chances are I will be ready to listen; so don’t hesitate to send me an email.

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By Ela Vasilescu
Writer In Florence Ela Vasilescu