God, I miss Romania!

My trip to Reykjavik has started a few days ago with a stopover in the UK to visit family in a terrible, traditional English town.

Every time I come here, I think that living in this place would be impossible for me. Why? First, because in this lifetime I must fulfill my dream of living surrounded by magnificent concrete walls while breathing the crisp, life prolonging, factory infused air. I’m also worried of not being able to get enough of the occasional dog bite as a form of appreciation for being an exemplary neighbour, and of course- the best of it all- getting the daily dose of satisfaction while savouring the famous Bucharest traffic. Once you try it- you’re hooked for life. You start craving to see people crossing streets at unmarked places, you miss hearing the unequaled Romanian swearing! It embraces equally all the members of society! One can never feel discriminated here- no matter of the skin colour, age, sex orientation or gods they believe in.

In the UK, life is too plain. There’s a depressing lake surrounded by a natural reservation where I can never find the familiar litter lying inconspicuously behind bushes. There’s no charm in cycling here either. My natural talent of looking at the wrong side of the road whenever I try to ensure passage through a crossroad always fails to bring the much-desired result- they never swear at me! They just smile. Every time. It’s an abomination! Instead of the healthy dose of adrenaline rush I’m used to get, I have priority in passage for my whole lifetime and I don’t get to use neither my health nor life insurance. What a waste!

A castle where no one ever got impaled; two pubs where I never get the chance to complain about food quality… How do they entertain here? Neighbours with dogs that never bite; supermarkets with food supplied by local farmers… Don’t they know about importing from other continents? The only thing about the UK which makes me feel like at home is the trains. Delays, cancellations- finally something which is the way it’s supposed to be!

Thanks God I had to endure it only for 2 days! I leave the UK completely unsatisfied, and I worry things might continue in same fashion in Iceland too. Their air carrier didn’t charge me for choosing my seat and they even offered me to buy a 3 euro coffee! Do they think I don’t know that a good coffee can never cost less than 6 euros? And what is it with all this leg space?

God, I miss Romania!

P.S. To be taken with a grain of salt.

A penny for your thoughts - Part 3

Wine Tea time

Back at the hotel, I start meeting other participants. The first day is always the easiest- greeting everybody and not having to wonder whether your “hi” might break like waves against rocks.

There’s still plenty of time until the dinner begins so I decide to do some reading. Sitting by the dreamy window while enjoying some cups of tea, I listen to my favourite classical music tracks and immerse myself in the book. I’ve recently discovered an author whose writing I like so much that I must limit my reading time per day so that I can enjoy his books for as long as possible.

It all started about a month ago when I saw some advertising of a book named “Mindful Chess” by an author whose name sounded familiar to me, but I couldn’t really say who he was- Paul van der Sterren. The book’s title was intriguing, so I asked a GM friend whose chess culture is much wider than mine if he knew him. Do you know the look someone gives you after you have asked a silly question? I felt like I teleported to the time I was about 10 y.o. and participated at a lecture by a famous GM. He had asked me to name all the world champions in a chronological order and I couldn’t. The look he gave me, followed by a somewhat pitiful smile made me cry of shame. Well, I know better than crying of shame these days, but I still couldn’t help feeling as ignorant as back then. I decided to make it right- did some research on the author and bought the book which I finished in one go. The plan was to read some pages before going to bed, but… All I can say- I couldn’t really close an eye that night because of the thoughts the book provoked, and I woke up the next day feeling deprived of sleep but given a precious gift- new horizons. Imagine my joy when just some days before coming to Nationals I got an email saying that another book by Paul was available in English! Moreover, it was an autobiography, which I thought guaranteed me many pages of delight.

Back to my tea and dreamy window in Eforie Nord. I opened the book and started reading it while admiring the last rays of sun. You might wonder why I had not started reading it when I was still at home if I looked forward to it so much. Well, the answer is – wisdom. As we all know, it goes hand in hand with ignorance. Jokes aside, I just trusted my intuition which told me that if I started reading it, I wouldn’t be able to let it out of my hands and I wanted to save some of the delight for the championship. I was right, hence the newly introduced rule of reading it for not more than 30 minutes a day. But don’t get it wrong, the rule was introduced only AFTER the 1^st reading session. The moon was shining over the calm sea when my phone cried for the ‘n’ time “battery low”. I realised that I must hurry if I want to get any dinner at all. Finally, the time I spent on the treadmill served for something more than blisters.

Photo by David Llada

At the restaurant, I continued sending “hi-s” here and there on autopilot. Some calamari later, I understood that I can’t let myself lose touch with reality to such extent again, so the new ’30-minute reading rule’ was proposed. It wasn’t voted unanimously, but it made sure I got enough hours of sleep and daily steps.

I even managed to get to the technical meeting that evening, just in time to find out I’ll start with black. I must have attracted it upon myself with all those cups of black tea I had by the window. Guess what else it has attracted, or rather driven away- my beauty sleep. I comforted myself with the thought that my dark circles will go well with the board’s squares, and they did, at least for the first few days, but that’s a story for another time.

I promised you to share my thoughts from the time before the tournament began and here they are. Perhaps, one day, there’ll be a story on the ones I got throughout the tournament too… However, I have the feeling I might need a bottle of wine or two instead of the pot of not black tea I have just finished for that to happen.

 

THE END.

 

A penny for your thoughts - Part 2

The Dolphin

A large window with a beautiful view over the Black Sea; the sun caressing the different shades of blue... My mood merges with the scenery, and I feel somewhat lightheaded and optimistic.

The tournament only starts tomorrow, so there’s a full afternoon to enjoy the beautiful weather and sudden lift in spirits. “Disfrutar la tarde” comes to my mind and I smile. Sea, sun and dreamy views in wintertime are some things I’ve grown to associate with Spain. One time, not so long ago, when I felt the outside cold sneaking into myself, I knew I needed to find a way of fighting against it. What better way of doing it than learning the warm language of sun, tapas and siesta? Right. I need to prolong my Duolingo streak first. Fifteen minutes later I feel content enough to go for a walk. Hm, is it “caminar”?

Eforie Nord is a Romanian coastal town and resort by the Black Sea. While it usually gets crowded during summer, its streets are almost empty now. Plenty of national tournaments have been organized here in the last few years.

I enjoy walking along the promenade with the wind playing with my hair and thoughts. Looking to the horizon, I can’t stop a familiar, worrying feeling creeping in. What is it? I feel ready for the tournament and eager to sit at the board again. I’m happy with my room and the nice weather is a pleasant bonus. While trying to get to the bottom of that feeling, I noticed passing by a restaurant with a beautiful terrasse where I had countless coffees and others with friends and family over the years. The place looks like it’s stuck in time. It hasn’t changed at all since the first time I was there. Was it 2000, 2001? Not sure about the exact timeline, I decided to go in, choosing the table with the best sea view. Ordering a cappuccino, I think of the time I sat in the exact same place and saw a dolphin playing in the pinks and oranges of a sunset a few years back. I remember feeling its joy like it was mine. The worrying feeling intensifies, and I don’t get it. Why?

My thoughts fly to those first years when I came to Eforie Nord as a child to participate in its traditional summer chess festival. The playing hall used to be just downstairs. I recall the joy I felt winning against a 2150 rated player for the first time and the huge ice cream I got as a reward after. Taking a sip of coffee, I also remember that time when, some years ago, I quit the tournament after only playing a few rounds. A small part of my heart broke and had to go to places more serene then. I realize there are so many things anchoring me to this place. The worrying feeling takes over completely and I feel a nod in my throat. I know now.

It was 2 years ago. I was playing in the Nationals here when the nearby war has started. Its coldness made place for itself inside me and there are no languages that can make it go away.

Perhaps, if I look over the sea, towards the horizon, I could even see it. Afterall, it’s just some 300 miles away. "Don’t think about it! Don’t think about it? Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it…", echoes in my head like a mantra.

Trying to take another sip of coffee, I realize my cup is empty.

I wonder where the dolphin is.

(To be continued)

A penny for your thoughts - Part 1

30 and The Giant

My largest suitcase lies wide open in the middle of the living room and I wonder why have I packed so many things for just 9 days? I remember tournaments where I’d go with just a cabin bag for two weeks or even a month. It must be the 2 months break from playing- I no longer know what I’ll feel like wearing and it seems logical to have a different outfit for each blues, whites or blacks my mood might throw at me. With half of the wardrobe safely packed I now start wondering whether I am ready for the tournament. It feels like there are still things I wish I had done ...

My 30 years are unhappy about me handling this situation.

25 says I’m crazy to play in the open section when I could have gone for the much more accessible women’s one. 28 agrees with 25 and adds that the potential 1st prize could nicely pay another 1,5 square meters of a potential flat. 20 says the women’s section would be piece of cake and I’m a fool for not playing there while having as much fun as I wanted. 15 disagrees and yells at all the others that „30 is the coolest EVER and no one should dare criticising her as she knows best what to do!”. 18 joins her, adding that there’s nothing better in this life than „beating” men. 13 feels uncomfortable- money, fun, square meters, men- are these those things mom meant when saying „You’ll understand when growing up” ? 8 cries in a corner- she doesn’t want to travel anywhere without her lucky pink pants and there’s no pink whatsoever in „the giant” ... No one seems to know how exactly to handle a crying kid and 20 decides on „I also don’t like that there are no miniskirts”! 18 wonders where the high heels are. 25 looks for the hair curling iron. 28 and 16 are searching for the running shoes.

I pat 8’s back, trying to calm her down and remember to check if I packed the back pain cream. I have had enough of this packing party and want to leave. Throwing another grey hoodie just in case it will be cold, I close „the giant” and drag it to the front door. Just about to open it, I realise something isn’t right. Turning back, I seek for my reflection in the hallway’s mirror. Who are those women, and those children? Why don’t I see myself? Looking more carefully, I realise I see 25 with the hair curling iron, 20 in a miniskirt, 8 in her lucky pink pants, 18 rocking some high heels, 16 and 28 fighting for a pair of running shoes... They are my reflection. One day, when I’ll see just one woman when looking in the mirror, I’ll know that my mission is completed. For now, it's time to go to Nationals!

(To be continued)