joi, 14 martie 2013

Sistemul de asigurare romanesc : Incredibil... dar adevarat! in Norvegia

Si uite-ma ajunsa in Norvegia. Inca dinainte de plecare stiam ca in 3 saptamani trebuie sa ma prezint la Politie pentru a-mi inregistra actele si cum incerc sa fiu o persoana responsabila, nu eram in a doua saptamana de sedere ca mi-am luat hartogaraia si m-am prezentat la Institutul de Inregistrare al Persoanelor Straine.
Cum nu mai sunt in Kansas, in 30 de minute ma aflu deja in fata unui reprezentant al statului. Trebuie sa mentionez ca acolo te programezi cu o saptamana inainte si ti se comunica ziua si ora la care trebuie sa te prezinti pentru inregistrare. Culmea, cand ajungi acolo, chiar existi pe o lista si in maxim 30 minute se ocupa cineva de tine. Deci se poate!
"Catalina Vasile. Catalina Vasile is here?" o doamna de la birou imi striga numele.
"Yes, I am." ii raspund destul de emotionata, deoarece inca mai traiesc cu impresia ca vorbesc o engleza mediocra.
"My colleague will help you at the second office, in the right" imi spune doamna zambind  si imi arata biroul la care trebuie sa ma indrept.
Un tanar pe la vreo 30 de ani, m-a intampinat cu un zambet larg. Sincer, nu cred sa am vreo amintire din Norvegia care sa nu implice vreun norvegian zambind.Toti parca au intiparit zambetul ala pe fata! Cald si placut.
"Hy, I see you made an appointment for registering in our data base."
"Yes, I have here all the papers I need... I found all the information I needed on your site... So here it is."
"Let's see what we have here" si incepe sa verifice hartiile una cate una.
Pasaportul, actele de la scoala, contractul de chirie, asigurarea de calatorie (mi-am facut si d'asta, pentru ca niciodata nu poti fi sigur) si ... documentul inmanat de la casa de asigurari ce se voia a fi echivalentul cardului european de sanatate.
Incurcat, omul se uita cand la mine, cand la document. Desigur, zambetul nu ii dispare de pe fata (cum reusesc???)
"What is this?"
"Hummm... it's a document that proves I have an European health insurance"
"But... this is not in English" imi raspunde mai incurcat. Daca am fi fost intr-un desen animat, ar fi avut fata gri, un semn mare de exclamare in frunte si acelasi zambet nepieritor.
"Humm... I know. I understand that all you need from this piece of paper is the no from here" si ii arat codul pe care cucoana de la asigurari mi l-a aratat in scarba.
"Ummm.. well... I can't use that no. unless it has some understandable details regarding the owner of the insurance. I mean, you could have written here whatever you would have wanted. I can't understand anything. Don't you have an english translation at least?"
"Well.. the (fucking) lady from the Insurance Institute told me they don't issue documents like this in English. And that you only need this no." ii arat disperata numarul, intr-o ultima incercare de a folosi hartia in scopul pentru care am primit-o.
"I'm sorry. You have to come with a European card or with a legalized paper stating that you have an insurance. Until then I hope you will have a great day."
Cu lacrimi in ochi am parasit cladirea. Cu lacrimi in ochi si ganduri necurate vizavi de idioata care mi-a dat hartia respectiva. Daca ar fi fost in fata mea, as fi dat-o cu capul de birou de cateva ori. Ma rog, nu pe ea. Ca doar cu ce e ea vinovata ca dobitocii iau drept bune documentele scrise in romana, pentru a le prezenta autoritatilor straine? Cu ce?

miercuri, 13 martie 2013

A story about you : the concert!

There was a time, long ago, when I had a heart. A heart that felt every ray of sunshine, whisper of wind and drops of morning dew, a heart good enough to be given. And then... you came along. 
This is not the story of how I lost my heart, in an already lost battle. This is not a love story, but it's a story about love. True love it is said to come only once in a life time. What happens if it comes in the perfect moment for one, but at a wrong one for the other?
John was walking near me and I could see he was a bit nervous. It wasn't the first time we were going out just the two of us, although every time that happened something was going totally wrong. The last time I ended up in the hospital with a broken leg and I couldn't walk for an entire month. That's behind me now... but I still have to kick his ass because of that. Anyway, it was a tension in the air and for the first time I was really quiet. I was watching the road and even tough I was seeing with the tip of my eye he was gazing at me, I was avoiding an eye contact. We were in the park near the concert and I could hear the noisy crowd and some clogged noises from the music. I finally raised my head and turned towards John. 
He stopped and as he was biting his lower lip. "Why is he that nervous?" I was telling myself.
"Could you give me a light, please? I would like to smoke a cigar here, before we get into the crowd and I have to be careful not to burn anyone. Here I could only burn you and you are a tough one... whiner!" I told him smiling as I reached my cigars.
A shade of smile appeared on his face. I was on the good road. 
"I could offer you a gum, as well" he said with an evil smile on his face. "From my mouth!" and slowly approached his mouth towards mine. 
I don't know why, but every time he acted like that I hated him. Even tough I would always call him a whiner or a loser, cause he was too gentle, I loved that side of him. But each time he was trying to be a bully I felt like kick him in the bolls. 
"You know what, I changed my mind. Let's burn some people at the fucking concert" and I left kicking his shoulder as I passed by him.
I was actually glad that I didn't stay at home. It was crowded and the music was loud. The beer was cheap and the air was fresh, even tough around me people was smoking like hell.
I called my sister and found her in the hell pit that was dancing like crazy and in all the scrimmage I lost John. I wasn't that sad, cause I was still a bit upset with him, but all came to an end when in the middle of the crowd.... I saw you.


Azi au venit la usa doua doamne sa imi dea o invitatie la o intalnire religioasa. Dupa ce s-au prezentat, m-au intrebat care mi-e numele. 
"Catalina" le-am raspuns zambind.
"Doamna Catalina..."
"Domnisoara..." si imediat ce aceasta "corectura" mi-a iesit printre buze, am realizat ca am trecut un prag ce nu voiam sa il trec. Daca la 20 de ani mi-ar fi spus cineva "doamna", as fi ridicat superior din sprancene si as fi spus "Exact!", insa acum imi este mai greu sa accept un statut pe care nu il am. Poate anii numerosi in care visam ca la 25 de ani sa fiu maritata isi cer ofranda si atribuirea numelui de "doamna" mi se pare exagerat, avand in vedere ca visele de la 15 ani nu mai coincid cu visele de la 27. 
Oricum, in momentul in care am inlocuit cuvantul "domnisoara" , in minte mi-a aparut o singura memorie ce imi arde retina si ma umple de groaza : profa de franceza din generala, care desi avea o varsta considerabila (sa spunem ca era la apusul vietii sau apogeul intelepciunii) ne corecta de fiecare data cand ii adresam apelativul "doamna". "Sunt domnisoara, nu doamna". Fapt ce mi se parea absurd, avand in vedere ca nu mai arata a domnisoara, sunt sigura ca nici nu mai ... mergea ca o domnisoara si la 60 de ani  nu inteleg ce ar fi atat de dureros sa iti fie adresat numele cu un "doamna" inainte. Pana la urma ar trebui ca de la o varsta sa fii doamna prin simplul fapt ca nu mai vorbesti tare. Sau ca esti retinuta si gandesti destul de mult inainte sa deschizi gura. Sau poate pentru ca nu mai stai cracanata la barul din centrul orasului.
FUCK! Oare ma indrept vertiginos spre o viata de solitudine, in care imi voi asuma rolul de "domnisoara", desi intre noi fie vorba, sunt departe de a fi una?

marți, 12 martie 2013

A story about you...

There was a time, long ago, when I had a heart. A heart that felt every ray of sunshine, whisper of wind and drops of morning dew, a heart good enough to be given. And then... you came along. 
This is not the story of how I lost my heart, in an already lost battle. This is not a love story, but it's a story about love. True love it is said to come only once in a life time. What happens if it comes in the perfect moment for one, but at a wrong one for the other?
John was trying to convince me to go at the concert. I think he thought it was the perfect moment to come out of the closet. No, he wasn't gay, but he had feelings for me and he wanted to use the concert to reveal everything. I was a bit humored by his sweetness. Even so, I was used with his presence every day. He was one of the few people that accepted me as I was. Mean and ironic. 
I remember the first time we met. I was going to ask my sister for an advice concerning an exam I had that afternoon. She was near her colleagues and John was one of them. As I asked my sister's help, he came along and told me all that I needed to do in order to pass the exam. Instead of thanking him, I raised and eyebrow and told him in a very disgusted tone "Did anybody ask you anything? Could you mind your own business, please? ". He dropped his mouth and left without any other words. Thanks to what he told me I passed my exam. Then and there I realized that he was well intended. But that didn't mean I was any less meaner with him. And I think he kinda liked me for that. 
"Please Cata, let's go. I know you like the bands, I know you like the crowd... why would you stay home? Let's go!!"
"If you wouldn't beg as much, probably I would go, but with a whiner I don't feel that safe!" I was telling him laughing at his sweet tone.
"Cata, stop joking around. Would you feel better if I'd hit you with a bat and dragged you at the concert?"
"There isn't a brave enough bone in your entire body to hit me. I have better chances to trip over something and hit my head!! " and as I finished my sentence I started pinching him hard. 
He started laughing as soon as I touched his skin. I think I always gained points with my pinching. It didn't matter how mad he was over whatever I said, every time I pinched him he was laughing. 
"Come on, Cata!!" he was saying in between the laughs "Stop it!".
He caught my hands tightly and steadied me like I was made of rags. He moved his face near mine and looked me deeply in the eyes. I could feel my heart beat and as I was looking back into his big brown eyes I felt something else. Instead of kissing me, he used one of his hands to pinch me and the moment was gone. 
We started a war and after hitting him lots of times with a pillow I realized that I don't want to stay home.

vineri, 8 martie 2013

Sistemul de asigurare romanesc : Incredibil... dar adevarat!!

Fac parte din generatia filmelor americane. Am crescut o data cu democratia in tara noastra, invatand treptat, sa ma obisnuiesc cu beneficiile unei tari in continua dezvoltare. De la inghetata fara gust, la desenele animate prea putine, la leii grei, am descoperit alaturi de multi altii felurite sortimente de inghetata, fructele exotice, ItaliaUno cu Sailor Moon si Inspector Gadget, dolarii, euro. Dupa ce citesc randurile de mai sus, realizez ca dezvoltare este un cuvant care ar trebui pus intre ghilimele, deoarece produsele noi aparute pe pietele romanesti nu inseamna ca tara este mai productiva si infloritoare, deoarece valorile si cultura romaneasca sunt intr-o continua decadenta. Un sentiment de tristete ma cuprinde cand ma gandesc ca generatia noastra este ultima generatie ce poate sa mai aprecieze cartile, jocurile de cuvinte si viata. Viata la teatru, opera, plimarile, jucatul sahului in parc...
As putea scrie pagini intregi despre ce as vrea schimbat in Romania, in lume, insa vorbele, din pacate, nu mai ating pe nimeni, motiv pentru care o sa fac ce stiu mai bine, si anume sa povestesc o intamplare tragico-comica.
In urma cu aproape 2 ani, imi pregateam de zor plecarea spre Norvegia (mai aveam 4 zile pana la marea "decolare"). Printre actele necesare se numara si cardul european de sanatate. Cat de greu sa fie sa obtin unul? Mai ales cand sunt studenta si plec cu studiile? Ei bine, in momentul in care esti studenta sub 26 de ani, este foarte usor, insa o daca esti studenta sub 26 de ani cu un loc de munca prin care ti-ai platit darile la stat, nu mai este atat de usor. TOTUL SE COMPLICA!
"Bine, bine, si asta inseamna ca eu nu pot primi card de sanatate european, ca sa plec cu bursa de studii in afara?" intreb vadit iritata de tonul cu care mi s-a transmis ca nu mi se poate face card, deoarece nu mai am loc de munca si in 3 luni urmeaza sa fac 26 de ani, caz in care nu pot fi asigurata prin faptul ca sunt studenta.
"Ba cum sa nu, dar va trebui sa achitati direct din buzunarul d-voastra plata asigurarii inainte de a vi se elibera cardul"
"PAI DE CE!! MAI AM 3 LUNI PANA IMPLINESC 26 ANI!!! Sa inteleg ca in momentul in care mi-am dat demisia de la munca, desi sunt inca studenta, am ramas neasigurata??"
"Eu as putea sa va fac un card de sanatate valabil pe 3 luni, pe asigurarea de stat."
"Doamna. Va rog. Sa ne intelegem. Eu am nevoie de o asigurare valabila pe 6 luni, pentru a-mi putea depune actele acolo. Nu pot ocoli sistemul, nu le pot spune ca in Romania nu mi se acorda o asigurare mai mare de 3 luni, deoarece dupa 26 de ani, daca esti student, esti debil la cap. Pentru ca altfel nu imi explic ce scuze ar exista sa nu ti se mai asigure minimul de siguranta medicala."
"Domnisoara, nu eu fac legea..."
"Doamna, nu ma cert cu d-voastra. Nu ma ajuta la nimic. Va rog doar sa imi spuneti cum as putea obtine un card european de sanatate. Evident, darile la stat platite pana la momentul actual nu ma ajuta cu nimic. Asa ca va rog, un sfat, o indrumare. CEVA!"
"Singurul meu sfat este sa va platiti asigurarea din mana. Astfel va pot face cererea pentru cardul respectiv"
"Ok". Desi aveam un chef monstruos de a o parui, nu neaparat pe ea, ci legea asta tampita, am hotarat sa ma gandesc la telul cu care am intrat la casa de asigurari. Si anume : sa plec cu nenorocitul ala de card. Am lasat-o sa isi faca treaba. 
Dupa 10 minute de tastat, intrebat si raspuns, respectiva dudie imi intinde o foaie A4, scrisa in romana si imi spune pe un ton cald 
"Avand in vedere ca d-voastra plecati in 4 zile, va vom da acest document, pentru a-l prezenta autoritatilor pana la primirea cardului. Cardul va veni la d-voastra acasa in 2 saptamani."
Ma uit catre dansa, ma uit catre foaie, mai citesc o data, extrem de clar, frazele si o intreb cu o privire naiva
"Dar... sunteti sigura ca acesta este documentul pe care il pot prezenta autoritatilor norvegiene?" apasand destul de rar si grav pe literele cuvantului "norvegiene".
"Cum sa nu."
"Dar... acest document e in romana" ii spun la fel de naiv ca prima oara.
Se vedea ca i-am pierdut destul de mult timp si nervi doamnei in cauza, pentru ca raspunsul a venit cu un ton superior si final.
"Domnisoara, nu sunteti nici prima, nici ultima persoana care are nevoie de un asemenea document. Nu este prima si ultima oara cand il completez. Evident ca va puteti folosi de el, deoarece codul de aici este cel important. Va multumesc si o zi buna."
Si uite asa, cu bagajele facute si "cardul meu european" de sanatate am plecat spre Norvegia.