About public transport in the UK (9) [Despre transportul în comun în UK]

I don’t think there’s any train station in the UK (or any train station in the world!) where a photoholic like me wouldn’t be tempted to take some pictures.

Far from being a passionate trainspotter, I simply can’t help finding things worth being photographed (and subsequently shared to the world, as I am doing on this blog) in such places. Stations are true goldmines for photoholics!

Out of my initial 6,800 photos in the UK (2008) – to which I could add another 700-800 (2009) – at least some couple of hundred pics (more maybe?!) were taken in or around trains stations...

...or while I was on a train, and therefore more than once annoying people. It’s somehow risky, but as a foreigner you can always afford to be a bit rude, and not bother for being deemed a weirdo.

Does anyone want to make a truly broad image of the Brits (or any other nation for that matter)? Well, go and watch them commuting, eavesdrop on their conversations, take a glimpse at what they are reading, smell their lunch, and scrutinize their clothes!

There’s no better research tool for this type of cultural studies than gazing around at people in train and bus stations, public toilets (not through holes in walls in this case!), caught in traffic as pedestrians or motorists, shopping in supermarkets etc.

But in today’s Orwellian Britan, obsessed with security and the threat of terrorism, it seems that what my photoholic habits could have gotten me an ‘interview’ with the police.

Click here to see what happened to a guy who loved taking pictures in the wrong places. Today’s Britain is gettig a less and less friendly place for photoholics :-(

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

Chestii d-astea, numai la britanici (21) [Things like these, only at the Brits]

Ca pieton, poate că ţi s-o părea complet neromantic să te trezeşti că, prin City of London, nici să vrei cu dinadinsul, şi tot nu ai cum să te pierzi. Mai mult, pierzi şansa să opreşti din drum vreo fată drăguţă şi să-i ceri ajutorul.

Parcă – oare nu intenţionat, nu-i aşa?! – indicatoarele acestea sunt puse îngroapă prematur o conversaţie. Nu trebuie decât ca fata să-şi rotească privirea în căutarea unui stâlpi precum cel de mai sus şi să ţi-l indice. Cu sau fără o strâmbătură din nas.

Asemenea panouri ordonate ar putea fi încă o dovadă că Statul Dădacă îşi face datoria şi nu lasă nimic să-i scape intenţiilor sale regulatoare – ar zice cârcotaşii…

Sau este o dovadă de civilizaţie, curtoazie, bun-simţ (British civility) – zic eu care, miop fiind, adesea de-abia mă descurc să văd numele străduţelor din Bucureşti, scrise pe tăbliţe prea mici, ori decolorate, ori obturate de vegetaţie.

Ca şofer care n-am condus în UK :-(, nu ştiu dacă faptul că (uneori şi la fiecare 10-20 de metri!) ţi se scrie pe drum încotro să o iei ori la ce să fii atent te ajută sau nu, dar eu cred că este o bună măsură de siguranţă rutieră. Vrei, nu vrei, eşti ţinut cu ochii aţintiţi la carosabil.

Apoi, şi dacă te-ai uita pe marginea drumului, adesea te poate zăpăci de-a binelea puzderia de indicatoare, luminiţe, panouri, exagerat de multe semafoare… Probabil că viteza de reacţie în trafic ţi-ar fi diminuată.

O problemă ar putea fi cuvintele în engleză, dar, cu puţină răbdare, oricine le poate pricepe. Până la urmă, şoferia are propriul ei limbaj, indiferent de limba maternă.

.

Doar şi eu întrebam prin SUA dacă XING (scris pe carosabilul autostrăzilor şi/sau pe panouri) o fi ceva pentru… imigranţii din China. Aveam să aflu că vine de la eXit crossING (ieşire din drumul principal).

Oricum, la cât de surori vitrege sunt engleza britanică şi cea americană, poate că unui şofer nevorbitor de engleză i-ar fi mai simplu decât unuia care din SUA sau UK care, chipurile, după ce s-a învăţat cu anumite denumiri/sensuri, ar avea nevoie de un astfel de dicţionar de trafic.

[Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la/For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to: Contents/Cuprins]

[EN] Not worth trying in the UK / [RO] Nu merită încercat în UK (9)

[EN] It may be no secret for any European that public and personal hygiene is not one aspect which Romanians could be pleased with. [RO] S-ar putea să nu fie un secret pentru niciun european că igiena publică şi personală nu este un aspect de care românii să poată fi încântaţi.

[EN] But it would be silly to think that the Brits are a ‘superclean nation’. As I said before (here or here), public cleaning in the UK fares better than that of Romania. Yet the people are not very much better at keeping clean. [RO] Dar ar fi o prostie să se creadă că britanicii sunt o ‘naţiune supercurată’. După cum am spus (aici sau aici), curăţenia publică în UK este mult mai bună decât în România. Dar oamenii nu sunt cu foarte mult mai buni la a păstra curăţenia.

[EN] Therefore, it’s categorically not worth risking one’s health by sitting on a toilet seat on a train British train! [RO] Aşadar, categoric nu merită să-ţi rişti sănătatea aşezându-te pe un colac de toaletă dintr-un tren britanic!

[EN] Not that it wouldn’t be equally risky (or at least unpleasant) anywhere in the world… Is it better in Singapore, Japan (foreigners face other risks there! :-)… or where? [RO] Nu că n-ar fi la fel de riscant (sau cel puţin neplăcut) oriunde în lume... Este mai bine în Singapore, în Japonia (străinii înfruntă alte riscuri acolo! :-)... sau unde?

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

A crossroads of the Orthodox World (4) [O răscruce a Lumii Ortodoxe]

As another summer is steadily coming to its end, and we are awaiting the Dormition of the Theotokos, today’s Great Feast – the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ – gives me the chance to send my good thoughts to dear people around the world by offering them another picture of an icon that remained in my heart.

Again, the image I’m sharing with the world is that of a paper icon taken from the Patriarchal Stavropegic Monastery of St John The Baptist in Essex. I’ve already given this icon (carried many miles throughout Europe before it got from Tolleshunt Knights to Romania) to someone dear to me, but not before taking some pictures of it.

Of all the riches of meanings that the Orthodox faith brings into our life – especially in a world so full of deceptive choices, elusive opportunities, omnipresent illusions – today is one of the most fascinating for me.

I assume I’m not wrong to call the Transfiguration one of the least understood moments in Christ’s life, while actually being one of the most important. Even many Orthodox believers couldn’t tell what that moment really meant.

For the unbeliever, this may be nothing more than one of the weirdest biblical tales. But for those of us who, in spite of our unworthiness, have been blessed to know WHO is the TRUTH, and MEANING of everything, today’s Feast brings one of the most categorical evidence about the divinity of our Saviour.

It’s amazing how St Peter, and the other two Apostles were so irresistibly attracted to the glory of Christ. All of us would, if we ever got so close understanding His true nature of God-Man. In order to ever do that, it is us the ones who need to be transfigured, so that we’d be able to percieve Him in His Glory.

If everything that happened to the Apostles after the Ressurection offered a proof that Christ is the only One worth dying for, in my humble view, St Peter’s reaction facing the Transfiguration proves that He is also the only One worth living with.

People around us couldn’t ever be truly loved unless we knew Him, and unless He (often throught His Saints) weren’t showing us what love is. Without Him, absolutely nothing would make sense, and we'd be completely purposeless without Him.

Without knowing Him, all the ‘inertial motivations’ of being alive (things done just because others of my ‘species’ did them every day) drove me crazy… Why sleep, eat, learn, work, dream, yearn, speak & listen, like & dislike, love & hate, and then… just die… WHY???

Living like most of the religiously indifferent people around me, and like the absolute majority of Brits do, I was thinking of suicide at least 20 times a day. Nothing – neither joy, nor suffering – made any sense to me.

So many things got on my nerves without Him, and it seemed that life was but a neverneding bad dream, with no beginning and no end. What was it to me if it lasted a day, a century or forever?

The bad dream stopped only when I was blessed with discovering the true purpose of human life, which is Theosis, that is personal communion with God ‘face to face’.

With Him, I’ve got the certitude that everything happens for a reason. If I were to remember how I was on the Day of Transfiguration ten years ago, all I can say now is that I am a completely different person.

I am not shouting that I am sinless, nor could I claim that spared of suffering, and – to my utmost disappontment – I can’t say I am a better person. But I am definitely – albeit in an unseen way – transfigured. Instead of being trapped in a meaningless existence, I have a destination, and Christ’s presence in my life is as crystal clear as gravitation to me.

I’m not sure whether the Earth circles around the Sun and not viceversa, I’m not sure whether the Americans really set foot on the Moon… Actually, I’m not sure of anything deemed right, correct or desirable ever since secularism took hold of history, as I mistrust the logic, reason and moral intuition that secular ethics is based upon.

I’m not sure of countless other prefabricated truths forced down our throat by the humanist society we’re living in, while I’m 100% certain that some of these truths are satanic deceits like global warming hysteria, overpopulation, inborn homosexuality etc.

Nevertheless, what I am surest of in this world is that everything about or Lord Jesus Christ is just as He told us, and His only One Church keeps telling us. How I wish that more and more of the certainly unhappy people around me wouldn’t refuse refuse their curiosity about Christ, the only One worth being curious about!

There’s no doubt for me that, one day, we shall all see the One Who the Apostles saw on Mount Tabor almost 2,000 years ago. May we, for the prayers of the Most Holy Theotokos, share the enchantment of St Peter, therefore have the proper wedding garment on us, and not be clad in the darkness brought upon us by having led a meanigless life away from Him!

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

[EN] Worth trying in the UK / [RO] Merită încercat în UK (9)

[EN] Really bad news for fanatical Scottish nationalists… It seems that the Scottish national dish (haggis) was created by the English :-) [RO] Veşti cu adevărat proaste pentru naţionaliştii scoţieni fanatici… Se pare că mâncarea naţională scoţiană (haggis) a fost creată de către englezi :-)

[EN] I don’t care about its origin, as the purpose of this series is to make recommendations about what’s worth tasting in the UK. [RO] Nu-mi pasă de originea ei, căci scopul acestui serial este să fac recomandări despre ceea ce merită gustat în UK.

[EN] Although I’m not a meat lover, and I should have avoided this post during the Dormition Fast, I must say that I liked haggis. [RO] Deşi nu-s un iubitor de carne şi ar fi trebuit să evit această postare în timpul Postului Adormirii Maicii Domnului, trebuie să spun că mi-a plăcut haggis-ul.

[EN] Food puritans may start disliking it after simply reading the main ingredients – minced sheep heart, liver and lungs boiled for three hours in a sheep’s stomach – but I honestly think it has a good taste. [RO] Puritanilor mâncării ar putea să înceapă să nu le placă doar după citirea principalelor ingrediente – inimă, ficat şi plămâni de oaie tocate şi fierte într-un stomac de oaie pentru trei ore – dar eu sincer cred că are un gust bun.

[EN] It goes well with beer, I found out. I didn’t try it with whisky, as it is customary. Nor did I dare tasting the whisky sauce. [RO] Merge bine cu bere, am descoperit eu. N-am încercat cu whisky cum se obişnuişte. Nici n-am cutezat să încerc sosul de whisky.

[EN] All in all, irrespective of the chosen drink, for anyone ever visiting Scotland, I can only say this: try at least a little portion the first picture shows! [RO] Una peste alta, indiferent de băutura aleasă, pot spune doar aceasta: încercaţi măcar o porţie mică precum arată prima poză!

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

Witty bits from what I learned in the UK (10) [Vorbe de duh din ce am învăţat în UK]

One of the most surprising things that ‘struck’ me in the UK was to witness how many French people live there. Every 15-20 minutes I could hear people speak French on the busy streets of London.

I liked that because, everywhere the Lord may bless me to go, I try my best to practice also my French, which needs considerably more improvement than my English ...and let this not be understood as a claim that I would speak + write faultless English.

Of course, I was expecting to hear people speaking Polish around me, other Eastern-European languages, as well as Arabic or Hindi/Urdu, Punjabi, Bengali, Sinhala – no that I could tell the difference between these :-) – but not so much French as I did hear!

Then, I would learn that if all the French people living in London were gathered in one city, it would be among the first most populous 12 urban centres of France. There are at least as many (if not even more!) French people living in London than in Le Havre or Reims (a ranking by population of France’s cities – here).

According to a NYTimes article from 2008, there are 180,000 French residents in London, not mere tourists as I imagined or like the one I talked to on Oxford Street. And – possibly to my friend’s dismay :-) – I must state that most of these French people seemed to enjoy being in the UK.

They were economic immigrants who – unlike the Huguenots some hundred years ago, fleeing Catholic persecution in France – came to the UK for one main reason: to be able to work more, therefore earn more!

I guess they were the ones to whom Nicolas Sarkozy promised the chance to work more, which the French system didn’t allow… and his reforms of the working hours are still far from being accomplished two years after he took office.

Two of these French people working in a French-style bakery, and in a 4-star hotel restaurant can be seen in these pictures, which I took during their working hours. They had both arrived to Brighton, by no means because of the French Protestant Church there, but for better paid jobs.

At least from what polite answers they could give in a few minutes of chatting with a curious blogger like I am – and some people know that I do like to chat with strangers, and I especially liked it with the purpose of blogging about the UK, and exchanging views about this country with fellow foreigners :-) –, they gave me the impression of being quite happy with their decision to work in the UK.

None had clear plans about how much they would stay in this country, but they said that working in the UK helps them save some money, Brighton offers a fascinating multicultural experience (unlike many dull provincial cities in their home country), and the girl also gave me a secondary reason for being in the UK.

It’s a reason that many Britons – who generally speak no foreign language, while some foreign students end up speaking a more comprehensible & grammatically correct language than the average Brit – could take into consideration. Well, this French girl said to me that she took a job here in order to improve her English!

I hope I’m not offending anyone, but I find it hard to imagine a Brit going to Greece, Spain, Portugal, let alone France… in order to learn that country’s language :-( With the exception of my atypical British friend, it’s harder and harder to see a British youngster going abroad these days for anything else than booze, promiscuous sex, wild partying…

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

La muncă în UK (7) [Working in the UK]

Atunci când îi mai apucă, pe unii britanici (de regulă studenţi), câte o criză de vinovăţie pentru consumismul din jur şi efectele sale devastatoare asupra proprie ţări şi a lumii întregii, un exemplu devenit deja clasic este cel al copiilor care lucrează ca nişte sclavi pentru a realiza haine fiţoase, precum acelea înşirate în magazinele de pe Oxford Street.

Desigur, îşi zic britanicii de bun-simţ, imaginea copiilor-sclavi, demnă de o Mare Britanie din vremea lui Charles Dickens, nu poate surprinde acum decât undeva departe – cu precădere în foste colonii ca India, Bangladesh, Pakistan, Sri Lanka etc.

Însă tare mă tem că, cine vrea cu adevărat, poate vedea că sclavia (sau, mă rog, semisclavia) există încă şi pe teritoriul UK, deşi s-a abolit 1833.

Şi nu mă refer aici la prostituţia din UK, ci la sclavii de pe plantaţii – români şi bulgari, care au drept de muncă pentru aceste ocupaţii istovitoare, deloc palpitante (munca este repetitivă) şi supuse capriciilor vremii britanice, că doar nu prea sunt pub-uri pe ogoare, unde să te adaposteşti...

Multe dintre fructele scumpe (o colegă din Croaţia constata că raportul ar fi cam acesta: preţul pentru o bucată în UK = un kil în ţara ei!) şi nicidecum atât de gustoase (pe cât de arătoase!) sunt culese de sclavi din România şi Bulgaria.

Atraşi cu promisiunea unui salariu de £ 200 pe săptămână (oricum derizoriu), adesea, ei nu încasează nici măcar jumătate din sumă în urma a tot soiul de comisioane şi cheltuieli cu întreţinerea barăcilor în care locuiesc ca în lagăre.

Nici n-ar trebui să fie de mirare, că doar naziştii doar au perfecţionat, dar nu au inventat lagărul de concentrare – idee preluată de la ceea ce făceau britanicii în vremea războiului cu burii din 1899-1902.

Pe siteurile oficiale (vezi aici şi aici) toate sunt bune şi frumoase pentru muncitorii agricoli, doriţi în UK strict pentru perioada recoltei, dar care sunt amăgiţi că măcar îşi pun un ban deoparte. Condiţiile de lagăr nici nu lasă posibilităţi de distracţie, unde banii să fie cheltuiţi aiurea, astfel că, până la urmă, patronii le fac un bine, nu-i aşa?

Chiar şi când sunt plătiţi cu jumătate din salariul minim din UK (cel mult £ 3, în loc de £ 5.73 pe oră), chiar şi când ajung să muncească mai puţine ore decât li s-a promis, chiar şi după ce veniturile le sunt jumulite de diferite comisioane şi necesitatea de a-şi plăti avionul înapoi, poate că – dar strict din punct de vedere financiar! – toate umilinţele rentează.

Dar oare să fie aceste jalnice condiţii de muncă din agricultură un soi de vaccinare a muncitorilor agricoli români şi bulgari (fără dreptul de a ocupa alte locuri de muncă în UK), ca nu cumva să îndrăznească să se îndrepte către alte slujbe în această ţară, unde de bine, de rău, condiţiile de lucru sunt cel puţin decente?

[Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la/For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to: Contents/Cuprins]

An atheist reborn in the Orthodox Church (7) [Un ateu renăscut în Biserica Ortodoxă]

One of the most amazing gifts that the Lord offered me throughout my stay in the UK was – on my ninth day on British soil – meeting a man having such a fascinating story of spiritual rebirth as Dionysios from Peacehaven has.

By God’s grace, my friend’s story helped my faith grow even stronger, as he brought St. Dionysios into my life, and he told me a lot of things that I used in my series dedicated to the Orthodox church in East Sussex (which started here).

Moreover, he gave me an altogether different perspective on Zakynthos (a destination sought by many Brits), and he took me to this lovely place… To put it as shortly as possible: he enriched my life.

That was just the beginning, as I was due to meet many more other special people in the UK. As a matter of fact, in Christ, all people are special, and everywhere I came across a true believer, I can’t help being amazed.

They they have found the only true meaning of life, they have a genuine personality, and they are not mere carbon copies of shallow characters, taken from a pathetic gallery of human destinies that the contemporary consumerist society displays.***

Clearly, the fifth episode of the current series stirred up what was probably the most enflamed little debate on my blog. Whatever people think of conversions like the one Dionysios went through, these stories simply can’t leave anyone indifferent.

At least for a short while – unfortunately, most contemporary people are too busy with meaningless things of their everyday lives, and their interest in questions of live and death quickly evaporates :-( – some of my readers stopped to ask themselves some questions.

“Why do some believe and others don’t?” …this is one of the questions people ask themselves when facing a story about an atheist converted to Orthodoxy. Ever since St. Paul, who first persecuted Christ’s disciples, and then became a devout servant of His, conversions could always shake people’s cosy trivial daily universe at least a bit.

Most people won’t dig deeper into their soul, so that they would go beyond a little discussion on a blog. I noticed this happening to many of those who were my daily readers at the beginning of 2008 – they would often comment on every little aspect of British daily life, yet remain completely uninterested in the ‘religious bullshit’ a weirdo like me was posting.

Every now and then, some people (fewer and fewer these days, I’m afraid) will go all the way to changing their lives just like Dionysios did. It’s sad that all people rejecting Christ would surely find when it’s too late (after their death) that, if they had really wanted, they could have really found out Who their Maker is.

May the Lord have mercy on all of us (believers and unbelievers), and may He bless my friend Dionysios, for whom I posted this episode, hoping that these words would make this ordinary summer day a little special for him!

If – and only God can know this – the present episode were the last of this series (although I’d still have to write some things), I’d very much like to end it with the above picture of a smiling Dionysios.

His life was surely far from being a perpetual pleasure cruise – and no honest Christian life could ever be as fun as today’s hedonist world considers worth living –, but I wish he’d carry this smile forever.

*** NOTE: These articles about atheism and consumerism in the USA, and in Australia would certainly apply also to the UK. Additionally, here’s a great article about how dull, and self-pitying most militant atheists (note that I didn’t say all atheists!) from all over the world are.

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]

Alcoolul ăsta, prietenul cel mai bun al britanicului? (10) [This alcohol, a Brit's best friend?]

Mă miram eu – atunci când mă plimbam printre uriaşele standuri cu băuturi alcoolice dintr-un magazin al acestei celebre reţele britanice – să nu fie ceva în regulă cu o aşa ofertă îmbietoare. Ei bine, nu era! Pentru a vinde toţi metri aceia cubi de alcool expus (nu mai zic de cât or fi avut în depozite) trebuia să fie ceva necurat la mijloc…

…şi iată că, cel puţin într-un caz, s-a descoperit că aşa era – multe din sticlele precum cele din imagine erau vândute minorilor. Toată chestia aceea cu posterele care te întreabă dacă ai sub 21 de ani (deşi de la 18 poţi cumpăra alcool în UK!), de care scriam la începutul serialului de faţă, văd că nu-s pentru unele (toate oare?!) supermarketuri decât o păcăleală.

Unii vând minorilor, alţii îşi atrag clienţii cu oferte de băutură ieftină, iar ziarele se vând cu tot felul de avertismente, legate de câţi britanici ucide alcoolul în fiecare an, de cum au crescut internările în spitale odată cu extinderea dreptului la alcool oricând în 24 de ore.

Important este că TOATĂ LUMEA VINDE şi, altfel, consumul ţine în viaţă pe toată lumea. Unii mai mor din pricina acestui consum excesiv (40,000 britanici pe an!), dar nimeni nu a băgat vreo picătură de alcool pe gâtul altuia cu forţa, doar UK este o ţară liberă, nu-i aşa?

[Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la/For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to: Contents/Cuprins]

About public transport in the UK (8) [Despre transportul în comun în UK]

Another article of faith which today’s Britons are told they should live by is – according to my friend & fellow blogger from Scotland – “Privatised transport is the best in the world.” Is it really so? Can everything be so simplistically reduced to ‘privatisation = good, while state ownership = bad’, as the ideologues of ‘free market no matter what’ claim?

First and foremost, I must say that, undeniably, British public transport is incomparably better than it’s Romanian counterpart. There’s absolutely no term of comparison between the two, in spite of having encountered some common ‘bad examples’.

If I were to use a gold standard for public railway transport, I’d name the rail system of France. The TGV is a masterpiece of contemporary transport technology, trains are safe, comfortable, punctual, and not excessively expensive.

In the UK, travelling by train seem to me undoubtedly comfortable, but relatively safe, sometimes only relatively punctual (see what a little snow can do!), and dreadfully expensive. An Easy Jet flight from Gatwick to Edinburgh is cheaper (currently from £ 40.99 to £ 78.99) than the cost of the Caledonian Sleeper (£ 54 to £ 185.5) on the same route.

Therefore, due to budgetary constrains, I opted for what is many times cheaper than the two mentioned option – a Megabus night bus for only £ 24 (half this sum if you pay with weeks in advance!). I survived three times the experience, and – with the Lord’s help – I’d do it again.

But I wouldn’t recommend night bus travel to those who have a sensitive stomach. If you’re not some kind of tough traveller like I become, and if you don’t like chatting with strangers (one even posted a comment on the current series – here), bus travel could really wear you out.

Train travel in the UK could have been the most pleasant, if privatisation had driven the costs down for the passenger. This has not happened yet, and it probably never will :-(

As it can be read here, among the effects of rail privatisation in the UK one could find more set-backs and disappointments than straightforward successes. I wish I had any readers (British or not, but using British trains) left to comment on this topic…

[For all the episodes of this series, and all the posts on this blog go to/Pentru toate episoadele din această serie şi toate postările de pe acest blog mergi la: Contents/Cuprins]