Trafalgar Square, 30th of September 2013
It’s been exactly 3 weeks and 4 days and 7 hours (but who’s counting?) since my coming in London. One of the first questions I’ve been asked was “If I were a Romanian, would that make me a Gipsy?”. As a matter of fact, no. As a matter of perception, maybe. Although I am recommended at a first sight as the “blue eyed blonde”.
Three weeks after. I find myself in central London confessing to a Russian friend, also a journalist, about this passive and frustrated people of mine, always doubting media and journalists, who for some reasons revived their “breaking-the-wall” spirit and took the streets in a huge green revolution. Yeah, green, smart, cultural, creative, educated sort of revolution against cynide mining in “Rosia Montana” gold mountain, I was explaining Masha. When, suddenly I hear familiar “diacritical-mark” words – … ș… ă… ” United we save … ș… ă… Roșia Montană”. In front of National Gallery, tourists seemed to ignore the illusion selling artists. Something else grabbed their attention. It was MY people. I felt proud, proud of MY people. A translator from Brighton, a student from LSE, green activists, IT specialists. Over 100 of them protesting in a “smart and educated” way, as my journalist friend said.
This is going to be my (first) story to follow in London. It is the first time since leaving Iasi with a “ș” since I felt alive and kicking. I remembered why I left in the first place: for the love of journalism. For the love of Romania.
N.B. to myself – the next protest will be filmed with a proper camera and edited in a proper programme. With (hopefully) proper skills.