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I am not the product of a single place.
While my journey began in the winter of Romania, on December 11, 2000, my life was never destined to be static. My childhood was a tapestry woven from shifting borders and borrowed homes. My family and I were nomads, moving from one country to the next, never settling long enough to call one place our own.
But this constant motion was not a loss; it was an education. Each new horizon wasn't just a map coordinate; it was an immersion. I absorbed the cultures, the cadence of different languages, the complex flavors, and the lingering ghosts of their histories. These places left indelible marks on my soul, forging a perspective as varied and intricate as the world I’d been shown.
How, then, did a perpetual traveler find a foothold in Indonesia?
It wasn't a grand design or a strategic career move. It was a whisper. It was something as deceptively simple, yet as profoundly life-altering, as food. A friend once spoke of the incredible dishes of this archipelago, describing flavors so vibrant, so complex, they sounded almost mythical.
Curiosity is a powerful, gravitational force. I didn't just schedule a vacation; I followed that whisper across the globe, driven by an almost primal need to taste what I had only heard in stories.
That single decision was not a trip. It was the pivot point of my fate.
That culinary curiosity unlocked a door I never knew existed. It led me to the heat of the kitchen, and since 2017, I have been building my life here as a chef. But I am not just a chef; I am a translator. My nomadic past—all those countries, all those forgotten meals, all those memories—they now live and breathe on my plates. I weave the bold spices of Indonesia with the techniques and tastes of the international palate I inherited, telling the story of my life through flavor.
But life, it seems, was not done surprising me. The kitchen was my plan; music was an accident.
It began innocently, as most profound changes do. A few friends, a few instruments, late-night sessions, and casual invitations to "just join in." I was a spectator, then a hesitant participant. But somewhere in the resonance of a shared chord, in the vulnerability of harmony, something dormant deep within me—something the kitchen could not touch—awakened.
It was a resonance I had never planned for. I never intended to pursue it, to take it seriously. But the rhythm, the raw, unfiltered emotion, and the profound, electric connection it forged became impossible to ignore. It evolved from a hobby into a necessity.
Today, these two passions live within me in a delicate, necessary balance. They are the two halves of my creative soul.
Cooking is my structure, my craft, my gift to the body. Music is my release, my confession, my gift to the spirit.
One expresses my truth through flavor; the other, through sound.
You may ask who I am, and I will tell you: listen to the music and taste the food. I have made a conscious choice to keep my true identity veiled. This is not an act born from fear, but from a deep, abiding reverence for peace.
In a world saturated with the noise of exposure, I find that privacy is the most precious—and most endangered—of commodities. I am not ready for the deafening roar of popularity; I am not seeking the validation of a spotlight. I prefer to let my work speak for me.
For now, I find my strength in the shadows, creating quietly, staying unseen yet remaining deeply present in every note and every dish. I want my art to carry my truth, without the world ever needing my name.
Your song, "We Are the Palestine," touches my soul. In the 1970s, I learned how cruel and illegal Israeli settlements were. These cruel and illegal acts have not stopped and are now even greater. Despite this, the world has not been able to change Israel's behavior. The world needs to recognize the sins of the United Nations, which officially recognized the establishment of Israel. Furthermore, the limitations of the UN Security Council symbolize the problems with the UN's very existence. The liberation of Palestine is liberation from European and American domination, and is one of the liberations humanity must achieve.
Dear Kumasan, thank you for this profound comment. It means so much to me that 'We Are the Palestine' could touch your soul. What you wrote about witnessing these cruel and illegal acts since the 1970s is devastating, and it highlights a long, shared history of frustration.
Your point about this being a struggle for humanity itself is exactly at the heart of the song. It is a fight for the world's conscience. I truly appreciate you taking the time to write and share your perspective.
I tried to sponsor a child in Gaza, but SOS Children's Villages needed to move that home due to the violence. So, I sponsor a village in Bethlehem instead, and a child in Romania. Reading your story here really touched my heart and soul. I can't wait to read every blog entry.
I wrote the article I mentioned above on LinkedIn. The English translation is below.
https://www.linkedin.com/posts/avni-%C3%A7ebi-b0434713_you-cant-look-into-my-eyes-one-is-a-child-activity-7118846664441761793-gXQ7?utm_source=share&utm_medium=member_android&rcm=ACoAAAK4TXQBprR9ufX2EozNjzPUMYvYGeid69w
I wrote something similar to a poem about Palestine. You can't look me in the eye. I wrote about a Palestinian child, aged 8-10, who encountered Israeli soldiers. Maybe you can write a song about it. I'll share it with you.