I <3 Kraljevo

Dear diary,

It's a cold November day. One of those days that you would like to stay in, with a cup of warm tea, with your own thoughts. Thoughts about your own life, your family and friends, your past and present. You see thousands of pictures in front of your own eyes, pictures that speak about you, better or worst days you would like to remember or to forget. A sort of small, private movie that makes you sometimes laugh, some other time cry. Picture says more than thousands of words, somebody said once and that's probably true, so I chose my picture representing my thoughts, my private movie of this last week and a couple of days more. This picture.

One letter, one symbol, one name. Name of a town that I was born in and which was hit by the earthquake on 3^rd November. The same day when I was woken up by my dad's phone call that I will not forget as long as I live. "Last night there was an earthquake in Kraljevo", he told me while I was trying to realize what was happening. I turned on the TV and searched for the Serbian State channel. It was true, no mistake nor a nightmare, it was really happening. My town was destroyed and I was wandering what has happened with my flat, my building, people I grew up with who were still living there, my grandma' who luckily was living in another town with my aunt's family, but still nearby. There were a lot of questions in my mind with no clear answers. I felt fear, I felt sadness, I felt rage. Why that happened to my hometown? In my mind was still vivid a memory of Aquilla earthquake that made me so sad, as much, or even more, sad as I was in that moment. I tried to get in contact with my family and friends. Luckily they were all ok.. I was reading mails, messages, following news with so much sorrow. I was away from that town that I love still, no matter I have good and bad memories of it, and that made me upset. I couldn't do much to change things, except praying a lot and hoping that in my town will never again be such things as earthquakes. And now, when seems that everything is over, there are no smaller earthquakes anymore, I can't stop thinking of a place, people, streets that are so much connected to my past life. My roots still lay there and that's something I never forget. Something that will never change.

And yes, I do love Kraljevo, and in my hearth there is exactly this picture, this symbol that represents a town that will never give up. The town which will win this battle as always he does. And I am so proud that I was born there. Proud to be a girl from Kraljevo.

Déjà vu

Dear diary,

There`s been long time since I wrote you last time. I needed some time for myself, for my thoughts and decisions to be taken. Wish I could escape far, far away from here but I know that it will not solve any of my problems. Maybe I just need a holiday, a trip to somewhere in order to recharge batteries and start all over again.

Speaking about trips, these days I remembered one of my favorite trips and that inexplicable feeling that followed me since the plane landed at the Charles de Gaulle airport. It was September of 2004. In summer of that year Zsuzsanna and I decided to go to Paris to study French. We studied together at the time, at the University of Trieste, and we lived at the same dormitory in Gorizia. She was younger than me but we had a lot of things in common, included the crazy professor of French language De Gioia who pretended from his students to spend some time abroad, and inevitable we became close friends. After thinking a lot about our French destination, we opted for Paris where we founded a suitable language course at the Alliance Française. One of girls we knew who spent her Erasmus program in Paris suggested to us a nice dormitory near the Notre Damme Church, so after we got accepted there, everything was ready for the journey of our dreams. At least of my dreams because since we arrived there, Zsuzsanna was not that much thrilled about the city as I was from the very beginning.

I remember clearly as it was yesterday. I went to Milan quite early, as my flight was at 7:20 A.M. My dad took me at the airport by car as it was not possible to take a train that early in order to get there on time. A friend of my dad who was living in Paris and working as a taxi driver had to wait for me at the Paris airport. Zsuzsanna was already there as she took a night train from Venice. I was so excited that I was counting minutes to landing. I was trying to imagine how it would be my first meeting with that town that I was always thinking about as the place where I would live in one day but even in my wild dreams I would not have imagined that strange feeling of belonging.

The plane landed at 9 A.M. Bonjour Paris, here I am, I thought while I was going out. Inevitable I remembered Rastignac and his Paris, a character of Balzac's "Father Goriot", a guy from province who goes to live in a French capital. I was doing pretty much the same thing as my permanence in Paris was of one month. After taking my luggage I went out of the airport building hoping to see my dad's friend but there was no sign of him. Initially I got panicked but after a while I calmed down and called my dad back to Italy as I didn't have a phone number of this taxi driver I saw for the last time while I was a little girl and barely remembered how he looked like. Later on I found out that the guy was expecting me in the evening, as he thought I would have arrived at 9 P.M, so I had to take the other taxi. It was the right occasion for practicing my French for the first time. I found one free taxi at the front door so I gave the address of my dormitory to a driver and after few minutes we left the airport heading to the town. During the journey I was chatting with the driver who was trying to show me importing buildings and surroundings on our way.

Since the very beginning, I had a strange feeling. My heart was beating so fast as I was excited to be there but it was not all about that. One part of me was scared because I felt like I was going back home. Everything was so familiar to me and it was not because I saw it on the pictures. I heard about this feeling, people call it déjà vu, already seen. I don't know was it really my case, but every day I spent in Paris I felt the same thing. It was so strong, so scary but also at the same time quite pleasant. I traveled a lot, I visited other cities known before only on pictures, but the feeling was not the same. Never again. On my way back to Italy I was so sad. I started to cry as we were departing and I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to leave and I promised to myself that I would go back. Unfortunately, I had no occasion to go back but one day I will. I strongly believe in that.