My father was born and also spent 3 quarters of his life under the Communist regime. During those times money was not a problem as everybody had it. You couldn’t spend them on much, food and terror were the problem, not money. Still, I notice that my father’s generation, in Romania, has a big trauma as far as money is concerned.

I won’t tell you how my father made fun of me enumerating all the hobbies I had starting with kindergarten. I won’t tell you that he mentioned in the end that I am nothing like my grandfather. He had one passion, his vineyard, I am at my 99th passion and counting.

I won’t tell you about that because I have a more interesting subject. I went yesterday at my first violin lesson. Must be the interest that this instrument raises in grown ups because my other 3 colleagues were reverse octogenarians that means ….KIDS…. little kids, around 7 or 8.

I try a little socializing asking things about the violin with no success. They stared at me so I gave up my socializing attempt, I thought maybe they didn’t understand my Portuguese.

Yes, a Romanian is taking violin lessons in Brazil with kindergarten age colleagues. So cool! These little folks motivated me better than Andre Rieu.

After speaking with my father he managed to startle me that bad that I ran to buy a violin. I couldn’t find one so, as I am a little ADHD I decided to order one online with immediate delivery.

They deliver a good, new and cheap violin. I pay for the violin, I pay for miss’s Uber and we go back inside to call my father again and play a few strings.

And, what a surprise! It is small! I bought a kids’ violin!

Lavinia asked me if it was ok. It is ok, it’s new, but it’s small.

It’s not bigger than half an hour of practicing. After half an hour an ache in my neck tells me to stop.

And I’m asking myself: is it the neighbors’ energy or is it really small?

The good part is that the bad part is an illusion.

The kids are crazy about it and the mistake was not a mistake, after all.

Tata s-a nascut sub regimul Comunist, apoi 3 sferturi din viata si-a petrecut-o cu poza lui Ceausescu pe pereti.  Pe vremea aceea nu banii erau problema pentru ca toata lumea avea.

Nu prea aveai ce sa cumperi cu ei, mancarea si teroarea erau problema, nu banii.  Si totusi, observ ca generatia tatalui meu s-a ales cu o mare trauma din cauza lor.

Nu va povestesc cum a ras tata de mine prin telefon si cat a vorbit doar ca sa insiruie hobbiurile pe care le-am avut incepand cu gradinita! Nici nu va zic cum a incheiat ca nu-l mostenesc pe tataie care a avut doar o singura  pasiune, via, iar eu sunt la a 99-a si inca curge…

Nu va spun, pentru ca restul este mai distractiv! Ieri, hop si eu la ora de vioara pentru adulti. Probabil din cauza interesului exercitat de catre adulti pentru acest sport, colegii mei sunt trei  la numar (grupa fiind de 4 cursanti). Surpriza, dragilor! Colegii mei de vioara sunt octogenari rasturnati sau pe minus sau ca sa vi-o zic pe aia dreapta……sunt COPII… de 7, 8 si respectiv 9 ani!

Incerc sa socializez un pic cu colegii mei cu intrebari legate de experienta cu vioara, ei nimic! Se uitau la mine cu niste ochi mari… am renuntat deci, sa ma integrez. Mi-am zis ca  portugheza mea-i de vina, bietii de ei nu o inteleg.

Da, un roman la lectii de vioara, la grupa de adulti cu colegi de gradinita….in Brazilia. Ce poate fi mai fan de atat!  Foarte tare, zic, astia mici m-au motivat cum nu a reusit Andre Rieu.

Dupa ce-am vorbit eu cu tata, dau repede o fuga prin Bombinhas sa-mi cumpar vioara. Nu gasesc si ADHD-ist cum sunt comand de pe net ca sa-mi vina repede, repede!

Vine tanti cu vioara, noua, buna si ieftina. Platim vioara, platim Uberul sa o duca pe tanti inapoi si intram in casa fericiti! Pun repede mana pe telefon sa-l sun pe tata  si sa-i administrez cateva sunete.

Cand, ce crezi!? E mica, frate……am cumparat o vioara pentru copii!

M-a intrebat Lavinia daca-i buna! Pai, buna e, pare noua….dar mica!

Cum adica mica?!

Cam dupa jumatate de ora de exersat, un junghi in gat ma anunta sa trag pe dreapta.

Ma intreb, Bai , nene, e energia vecinilor care s-au saturat de schelalaielile viorii mele sau e de-a dreptul chiar  prea mica!?

Partea buna a lucrurilor este ca partea rea a lucrurilor este o iluzie.  Copiii se bat pe vioara si o greseala nu este o greseala.

Numai Junghiul ramane problema, cu ale lui vorbe surde…

“Cel ce se uita afara, viseaza. Cel ce se uita inauntru, se trezeste.” – C. G. Jung

Si Junghiul tipa ca Bravehart in scena finala;

Trezireaaaaaaa!!!