I did not win all my battles

This image of me, with my camera, was taken near St. Eustache, and the old place of Halles, in centre of Paris.

It does show a me, two years ago, proud of having lost weight.

But I do not win, did not win, all the battles in my life.Alas.

The battle of weight loss and gain, is an ongoing one, that goes, up and down.

It was still very up, meaning I lost a lot, when I arrived to London, and even six month later, doing even better, with around 76 kg and I did pose home here as in this picture, proud of my relatively thin body and weight.

From then on, I stopped to swim, because I boiled by error my suite and it lost its colour, and from that moment on, I begun to gain back, pounds and more pounds, kilos and more kilos.

Any sad event was enough then to eat a bit, only a bit more, a bit. Of course, I gained more. Some time ago, I even stopped weighting: I knew, but did not want to know details...

I did gain some of my fights, in my life. I did gain a diploma, a pHd, even if very late. I did have a daughter and a son, as I dreamed, and grand-children. I did finish last year my Competent Communicator manual, as I decided at the beginning of the year..

And yesterday, I even competed my 5th story from the Storytelling manual. I'll begin again, one time, because that is a skill I want to improve more and more.

But I did not win all my battles, and soon, I'll have to renew my fight with my weight. I am not yet decided how, as the Weight Watchers help me loose but not maintain it for long time.

So many battles one has in life, some we loose, some we gain, but the important is never to give up, never to give up on ourselves!

After rain in spring

After the rain, before the next, there were a few minutes when I went nearby and admired again that small flowery spot.


The rain drops and the almost closed tulips, guarding what they could, hiding as possible from the rain, made them even more beautiful.


I was almost late, finally, it was so difficult to go away from that small spot of lovely flowers.

Paris 2004 First documentary stroll

I have begun my "documentary photography" class, in September 2004, in the 18th arrondissement, not far from where, once I have lived.

It was a pleasure to go back, and not a "discovery" like to others.

After only a few yards, I was attracted to that shop with the young man with a sharp beard in it. I went nearer. He made me a sign to come in. Thus began my portraits of Parisian workers "career", documenting their work.



I entered that day also to a colours selling shop, to the post office, to a shop where replacement teeth were made, and finally, in an Arab café.

They made me sign too, come in, and even posed in group at the end of our conversation.

All those people, were no more strangers to me after I left, with all I spoke, they all told me things about themselves or their family or work or all of that.

Home, home, sweet home

What is "home" for you?

Home is a "notion", not really a place, I think.

Also, it does exist a "home town", whatever that means. Is the "home-town" the one where you were born and, eventually raised as child, as teenager? The place of your parents, of your family? Is it the one you live now, together or alone?

No, more I think about it, home is not a place, at least not as house or apartment or town or village.

It is were you feel loved, secure and "at home".

As with many "notions" it is more easy to tell and become aware of "home" when you loose it. As I lost it, the first time, when I was ten, towards the end of the second world war. Home, was taken out, like a carpet from my feet.

A morning, very early, my mother waked me up: here is this small luggage, put all you need in it, in an hour we depart to Budapest. I put inside my favourite toys and my doll, with whom I was sleeping every night.

'What did you put in here?' my mother come to me outraged. Not that big doll! You'll have no more place for your clothes! Do I need the clothes? But the doll came out, and I had to separate from it. 'Let's tell Magdi we go to Budapest.' She was my cousin, best friend, and schoolmate. Classmate, too. 'No time.'

We left and were far from "home" for a whole year, hiding in one place then another, with false names.

When we finally came back, to the same city, same apartment, even same furniture, home was a lot less home. My grand-parents and Magdi, my cousin with her mother, have been taken away. I wrote, then, at age eleven, "They burned her, she went into smoke, and they made even soap from her!" I still hoped for same time she did escape.

My neighbour's daughter, after we quarrelled once, told me: "my mother told me you should not have come back!" After that, "home" was less home. But with time, I found some new friends. When I had to go away, to a big town where my father worked now, for almost ten years, I still felt Cluj, "my city" was "home" and not were I lived.

From place to place, city to city, country to country, I learned to make a "home" where I was then for my family, and very fast, make it warm and "homely".

I do feel "home" now here in London, welcomed. In the morning I admire the dawn from my big windows, and the diversity of people is welcoming me, making me feel "home". I found a "home" also with the Toastmasters club, the friendly people I met through it, but even in the streets, just exchanging look and a few words with unknown people.

Home is a feeling, I think.

Memories

These flowers remind me of the one's I had in France in my garden. I bought them because my grand mother had them in her garden.

I do not remember a lot of my early childhood, but as I spend a month each year from 2 to 5 in my grandmother's garden, I do remember all the flowers from there. Not by name, but how they looked.

I am preparing a story about "Home".

What home means for you?

Part of "home" in my childhood was that garden, even if I did not spend so much time in it, but I did go back from 6 to 9 often, even if by that time we did live in the same city as her and went there for shorter time.

Home?

A place you feel comfortable, safe, loved ?

Home was never "house" to me, because we always lived in rented apartments, and it meant for long time also "home town" and friends.

Yes, were and until I felt "comfortable, safe and loved".

I do feel so now, here, even if I have not been more then 20 month!

They all won!

The Area Contest of the Toastmaster speech, yesterday was held at Croydon. Far away, not easy to parc the car, and lots of one way streets, even changed from last year. Rain.

It was worth it!

A great evening. Lot to think about.

And so great also that I could listen, judge, ponder, instead of speaking!

Ola, in first plan here, was the Mystery Speaker, from London's Tube Speaker, those working at the Underground. He told us a tale of the beast coming out of the cave - whenever something happening to us is somehow similar for another that touched us strongly.

Also good defence mechanism, it does deform, exaggerate, disturb the recent reality.He told us with a few stories, great examples and wonderful body language.

The winner of the Speech Contest was Dave Longley, speaking about the importance of good communication, and how much his whole life was affected by the absence of that, with his father.

The winner of the Evaluation Contest (they have to tell what they liked and recommendations for improvement on the Mystery speaker) was Vathani Navasothy, delivering it with lots of enthusiasm, encouragement and grace.

You can see it on the first row of my photo.


I learned a lot, took home a lot to ponder too, to reflect, from all the speakers, all winners because they spoke! As the Chair of the Contest, David Thomson told: they are three time winners: Once because they are Toastmasters, once because they won the contest in their clubs, and the third time, because they are here and speak at the Area 35 contest.

Photos from the Area contest

London early spring flowers