My grandpa was on the eastern front lines in WW2. My dad told me the story, recounted by his dad, how they fought the Russians and had to flee when the Soviets defeated the Reich. I listen to him in awe, puzzled, thinking it all happened 70-something years ago. Romania... for that petty attempt, we endured 42 years of communism under the supervision of the URSS. I was three years old when the regime fell. I still hold some snapshots of vivid memories from the revolution. It was intense, and it was all televised. The night of the siege of the parliament, the revolutionaries took over the reins of this country, occupying the television building and telling people they were now free!
Less than 24 h later, the dictator and his wife were executed. Every Romania was boiling people everywhere were frantic, including my parents. Looking at those videos now, they feel like a stupid reality show or a bad joke of sorts. It was real tho.
After that horrific episode, it all cooled down eventually. The execution broadcasted live on national television and replayed over and over again for weeks to come. People wanted blood; people wanted revenge. People wanted change and thought now the dictator was dead, they finally had it.
The change eventually came. We did, as the other countries in the west, freshly liberated from the claws of URSS. We had democratic elections and voted a new president from the Socialist Democrat party: Mr. Illiescu, a rather charismatic and well-versed politician. Energic, ripe, and super smart. This fella grew up around the dictator; it was his right hand, his apprentice kiddo, his tennis ball boy. At the right moment, he switched camps, stepped out of the shadow in front of the people, and knew exactly what to say to charm everyone. He was elected with 80% of the votes. High hopes. I saw this president live with my own eyes once. His smile looked even more ridiculous IR than on TV, just like a caricature.
I hate politics. Especially the politics in Romania. I hate it so bad that with the first opportunity, I left the country. You see, I don't have patriotic impulses. If the Russians get into war with NATO, Romania will be a battleground. I would never do what my grandpa did. And in the unfortunate eventuality of such a conflict, ground forces won't matter anymore. Whenever I see pictures of devastated cities in Ukraine, a cold shiver passes through my bones. War is horrible.
The house of my parents is quite comfortable. I have my own quarters in it. Comfort and all, the ceiling is not as high, but fuck it. That's not my issue. I just don't like what I see when I walk out of the house. I don't have friends here.
I'll be gone next week anyway, just four more days.
And fuck it, I still do yoga, and I get plenty of time to read, but something's missing.
Less than 24 h later, the dictator and his wife were executed. Every Romania was boiling people everywhere were frantic, including my parents. Looking at those videos now, they feel like a stupid reality show or a bad joke of sorts. It was real tho.
After that horrific episode, it all cooled down eventually. The execution broadcasted live on national television and replayed over and over again for weeks to come. People wanted blood; people wanted revenge. People wanted change and thought now the dictator was dead, they finally had it.
The change eventually came. We did, as the other countries in the west, freshly liberated from the claws of URSS. We had democratic elections and voted a new president from the Socialist Democrat party: Mr. Illiescu, a rather charismatic and well-versed politician. Energic, ripe, and super smart. This fella grew up around the dictator; it was his right hand, his apprentice kiddo, his tennis ball boy. At the right moment, he switched camps, stepped out of the shadow in front of the people, and knew exactly what to say to charm everyone. He was elected with 80% of the votes. High hopes. I saw this president live with my own eyes once. His smile looked even more ridiculous IR than on TV, just like a caricature.
I hate politics. Especially the politics in Romania. I hate it so bad that with the first opportunity, I left the country. You see, I don't have patriotic impulses. If the Russians get into war with NATO, Romania will be a battleground. I would never do what my grandpa did. And in the unfortunate eventuality of such a conflict, ground forces won't matter anymore. Whenever I see pictures of devastated cities in Ukraine, a cold shiver passes through my bones. War is horrible.
The house of my parents is quite comfortable. I have my own quarters in it. Comfort and all, the ceiling is not as high, but fuck it. That's not my issue. I just don't like what I see when I walk out of the house. I don't have friends here.
I'll be gone next week anyway, just four more days.
And fuck it, I still do yoga, and I get plenty of time to read, but something's missing.
