de pescadors

Avui he sortit i entrat de casa quatre vegades, i a les quatre hi havia el pescador assegut amb les seves xarxes, desfent nusets. A la quarta vegada li he preguntat si ho havia de fer cada dia, això de desfer els nusets de les xarxes, i m'ha dit que sí, cada dia es passa una estona desfent nusets i deixant apunt les xarxes. M'ha dit, també, que li agradaria anar algun dia a pescar al riu. Amb canya? he preguntat (i com que no sé dir "canya" amb rus, només he fet el gest de pescar amb canya). I m'ha dit que sí. El que no li he preguntat és on és que va a pescar amb xarxa, si a algun llac o al mar negre, però és que m'he entretingut amb altres informacions, per exemple que és txuvaix. S'ha posat molt content quan li he dit que jo havia estat a la zona de Txuvàixia (Rússia) en ple hivern, tot i que ell no és de Txuvàixia, si no de la regió que hi ha just a sota, Uliànovsk. Després m'ha explicat una part de la seva vida, però no hem anat més enllà de quan feia de soldat. Jugava a cartes, dormia... el que fan els soldats, vaja (l'última frase l'he dit jo, i ha rigut, així que deu ser veritat). Quan li he dit que volia aprendre romanès, ha tornat a somriure i m'ha dit que feia un munt d'anys que vivia aquí i que no li havia fet mai falta. Ho veieu? ja us n'hauríeu oblidat vosaltres també, de preguntar-li on és que va a pescar amb xarxa. Però ja li preguntaré

Una de les sortides de casa l'he aprofitat per anar a passejar pel meu barri. Acompanyada d'un guia molt (massa) entusiasta, hem caminat fins a l'altra punta de barri per veure les portes de la ciutat i el jardí botànic. Aquí en teniu fotos (pel jardí botànic cliqueu aquí, per les portes busqueu "gates of chisinau"). Ens hem enfilat fins a dalt de tot del parc i, al baixar-ne, entre unes pedres i uns arbres, hi havia un home fent fotos a una noia. La noia portava un vestit blanc i s'aixecava el vestit, ensenyava les calces, i l'home li feia fotos. He dit al meu acompanyant entusiasta: acostem-nos fent soroll, que vegin que estem baixant per les pedres i parin l'espectacle per un moment. I jo baixava parlant fort i fent soroll trepitjant tronquets però ells no han parat de fer fotos, i al costat de la noia hi havia una dona d'uns cinquanta anys, i mentre ens allunyàvem mirant el terra he sentit que la noia deia "papa". Suposo que aquest és el segon xoc cultural (o el que sigui això), després de la manifestació càmping de iaies ortodoxes

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Today i have gone in and out of my house 4 times, and in all the four times the fisherman was sitting with his nets, undoing little knots. At the forth time i asked him if he has to do it every day, this undoing little knots thing, and he said that yes, that every day he expends some time undoing little knots and preparing his nets. He told me, also, that he would like to go to fish in the river, some day. With a fishing rod? i asked (and because i don't know how to say "fishing rod" in russian, i just did the gesture of fishing with a fishing rod). And he said yes. What i haven't asked is where he goes to fish with the net, in some lake or at the black sea, but i was entretained with other informations, like that he is chuvash. He was very happy when i told him that i was in the zone of Chuvashia (Rusia) in the middle of the winter, although he is not from Chuvashia, but from the region just under it, Ulyanovsk. Then, he explained me a part of his life, but we just arrived till de moment that he was a soldier. I was playing cards, slepping... what the soldiers do, then (i pronounced this last sentence, and he laugh, so it must be true). When i told him that i want to learn romanian, he smiled again and said that he has been living here for a lot of years and that he has never needed that. You see? You also have forgotten about where is he going to fish with net. But i will ask him

One of the exits from my home was to go to visit my neighbourhood. Accompanied by a very (too much) enthusiastic guide, we walked until the end of the neighbourhood to see the gates of the city and the botanical garden. Here you have the pictures (for the botanical garden, click here, and for the doors just search "gates of chisinau"). We went until the top of the park and, when we were going down, between some stones and trees, there was a man taking pictures of a girl. The girl was dressing a white dress and she was rising up her skirt, showing her panties, and the man was taking pictures. I told to my enthusiastic guide: let's approach them being very loud, to make them notice that we are going down the stones, so they can stop their performance. So I was going down speaking loud and stepping on little branches but they didn't stop taking pictures, and next to the girl it was a woman around her fifties, and while we were moving away staring at the floor, i heard the girl saying "papa". I guess this is the second cultural shock here (or whatever it is), after the camping-demonstration of the orthodox babushkas