Blissful Ignorance

Today’s story will be about your friend, your cousin, that classmate, your country or perhaps you. 

The idea of this post came to me after listening to a certain song on repeat on my way home from yet another tournament. One particular verse hit me hard. It was nothing beautiful or metaphoric- just the brute force of truth. Once really hearing it, my mind couldn’t stop. But let’s leave it for the due time.

It all starts with the feeling of something not being right when you look closely to someone. A distant, resigned, sad gaze, like they’re floating in a different world. The blues, anaemia, some slight depression, being fed up with work and routine- finding possible reasons couldn’t be easier.

Then the unusual behaviour comes into equation. One flinch here, one tremor there, one silent reply too many. You start wondering. However, few of us are Sherlocks in real life- Watsons at best and that’s actually not too bad. Some time passes and other signs slip- a missed coffee date here, a worrisome voice during a call there, an accidental glimpse over a well-hidden bruise. Even the not Watsons come to suspect the foul. But you don’t want to intrude. If something is not said out loudly, if it’s not material then it’s not yet true. However, you begin paying attention to the details more carefully. Perhaps you even start feeling conflicted- ‘Should I try to help?’, ‘Could I live with myself if something were to happen and I didn’t even try to do anything?’.

Abuse and abusers take different forms these days. And here comes the verse: ‘I’ll fuck you till you love me’.

With every new time I listened to it, I thought of new aspects of life it can apply to. Be it personal or work relationships, politics or basically anything else it seems.

Games of power only have place between evenly matched, consenting opponents. If one of the components is missing- that’s abuse.

Returning to that friend of yours. Why do they accept the situation you may wonder? The answer will mostly be about some form of dependence- be it emotional or material. Abusers are so good at making one believe that they’re of such utmost importance that one can’t do without them. That cousin convinces oneself that the situation they’ve come to find themselves in is not so bad after all. They have a classmate who got it even worse.

‘I’ll fuck you till you love me.’

What if they do ask for help though? You remember the moment when you found yourself in a similar situation and you do what you hope a friend would do for you. You offer support. But what if you’re in some way dependent on the abuser too? Let’s say you might lose your job and that could hurt not only yourself but your family too. Would you then do the right thing just to stand for your values no matter of the consequences?

The most dangerous abusers are those in high positions of power. They thrive from inflicting fear.

You may tell yourself that after all, that classmate of yours has closer friends who could help. Why should it be you risking your livelihood? Perhaps you would do it was it your sister, daughter or mother asking for help. But as it’s not, you will pity them, think or even say how unfair the situation they find themselves in is. You would perhaps lose some sleep over it and then you’ll eventually convince yourself that you’re better off caring for your own interests.

But do you know what the problem is? An abuser will not stop. Now they may seem to not touch you, they’re far away. However, the day will come when they’ll move on to their next victim. Or their sons and daughters will meet yours and tell them ’I’ll fuck you till you love me’. You might not be around to help, and the only hope will be for some stranger to feel their principles to be too strong to ignore them. Or not.

Sad is this world as I look at it now.

I realise I might not have the power to really help, but I will continue calling out on the abusers in the hope that someone who can make a difference might be reminded of their values.

Violence is never the answer. Neither is blissful ignorance.

Today I might have not spoken about your friend, your cousin, that classmate, your country or you, but I might as well have of your child’s or their children in a year, ten or twenty.

 

The Grand Batumi Experience

In the land of ancient wine-making tradition, unique cuisine and stunning landscapes, let me take you along on an alternative trip, one spiced up with dirty tricks, food poisonings and memorable commutations between toilets, doctors and hospitals. 

European Team Chess Championships. Events where you represent your country are always special. They are characterized by a heightened sense of responsibility, but also a distinctive team atmosphere. The individual moves on the second place and one tries to inspire and support the whole. It is such that when you see your colleague in trouble, you in a sense stop being objective and try to compensate by maximizing your chances on your own board. This strategy worked well for us here, allowing us to finish 8^th when being seeded 17^th in the starting ranking list. But let’s not jump ahead and take it step by step.

I have noticed that the trend in traveling has changed lately. More people are trying to choose unusual destinations and authentic experiences rather than well-known all-inclusive resorts. Chess organizers seem to follow this tendency closely, bringing us to Batumi, Georgia, only for the 2^nd time this year and the 4^th time in the last 6, with another 2 to follow in 2026. I was so thrilled when learning it! The 2018 Olympiad in Batumi is still vivid in my memory! While playing there , I managed to lose 5 games in a row when failing to cope with what a professional chess player should excel at- having a stomach made of steel. If you can’t eat the same meat- freshly unfrozen on the 1^st day, with spices on the 2^nd one and with some sauce on the 3^rd- you are lacking essential skills. How lucky to be able to work on them! 

Earlier this year I missed on it, as it was not compulsory to stay at the official hotel during the Women’s World Cup and I rented an apartment. It was such a disappointment to have fresh salads, fantastic meats and heavenly tasting bakes… Who knew I’d get a 2^nd chance just a few months later! The 5 star Grand Bellagio Hotel, which was the official venue, looked very promising. It was boasting a 6,4 mark on Booking and promising rooms where there was almost no mold, very few broken appliances, a nearly clean carpet and a soon to be functional gym and spa. Add up the intel acquired from some players who stayed there at the above-mentioned Women’s World Cup, which indicated a high chance of our stomachs being seriously tested at the hotel’s restaurant, how could one not look forward to it?

Romanian Women's Team

I came prepared. With a bag full of pills and some extra hundred euros in the wallet, the plan was to indulge on the restaurant’s food only for the occasional lunch. It worked well. Sparing an extra 20 minutes on urgent toilet trips immediately after the midday food intake once in a few days could only make me stronger. However, there were players who wanted to enjoy the full experience. Eating 2 or sometimes even 3 times a day at the hotel’s restaurant sent several players to the tournament’s doctor with severe fever, chills, vomiting and other such symptoms. Sometimes they would get some medicine, other times- the chance to visit a Georgian hospital to get some IVs. I envy them. When else would I get such a chance? Ah, wait, I forgot- next year!

So, if you wondered why you wouldn’t see your favourite players paired for a few days in a row- here’s the most likely answer- they were getting the all-inclusive experience.

Batumi promenade

Now switching to the chess part. The 8^th place in the final rankings is a very good result for our 17th seeded team. We had chances for more, but I guess there always are. Personally, I didn’t have a stellar performance. But how else would my character get tested if not by missing out on some winning positions? By getting a dose of disrespect from the opponents. Why not indeed. As a friend told me- it only shows that they wanted a good result by any means. Offering a draw to your opponent when knowing that the only satisfying result for their team is a win on your board is not forbidden by rules- maybe they would lose a few minutes on their clock by consulting their captain… Offering a draw 2 minutes after making your move, realising you blundered and found yourself in a lost position while your opponent is in a deep think, why not disturb them? This one is actually forbidden by rules, but you have a good personal relationship-they would definitely not mind it. It can only strengthen your connection.

Concluding it- this European Championship even exceeded my expectations- body and spirit tested and strengthened like never before! Can’t wait for the next time!

 

(Photo credits: etcc2025.com)

Gratitude

Today has felt to be the perfect time for taking a moment to be grateful.

Living a life governed by thinking, analysing and taking or trying to take logical and objective decisions, these rare moments when I can rely solely on my feelings are particularly precious to me. There are some tears building up in my eyes, but they are ones of gratitude and serenity this time.

It appears that something out there in the universe rewards those courageous enough to be vulnerable. I am amazed by how little one needs to feel meaning and happiness. It becomes even more interesting to ponder over how this ‘little’ is actually so much that there can be no price tag to attach to it.

I find there is nothing more valuable in this world than the people one meets and the moments they live together. There is a certain magic to it. Today I am convinced once again that as random as things might seem at times, there is a secret order to that randomness, one which comes together in the most unexpected ways.

Today I realise that my deciding to surround myself solely with people whom that something inside of me had told me to- it was the best thing I could do for myself. No logic was involved. Some told me to be wrong, and I didn’t care. I am grateful to have done it.

The universe conspires to give you what you want by means we rarely understand. It is conditioned by knowing what you wish for and by daring to say it to the world.

It has been ages since I cried of joy. There is more than one person I can thank for it, but today I feel bold enough to say ‘thank you’ to myself.

The Wonderful Everyday Life of a (Woman!) Chess Player

(Photo by Anna Shtourman)

Here I am, back home after what feels like an eternity I spent in Batumi at the Women’s World Cup. An eternity would have actually been nice, but fortunately or not- we’re talking about 10 days.

These 10 days were like a life miniature- hard work, tension, emotions, thrill, loss of appetite, existential questions, revelations, more pressing opening dilemmas, long walks, disappointments, hope… I am not even sure what wasn’t there. In the moment I lost, and I realised it was all over, I felt empty and, in some way, relieved. I could finally go home to check if my cat was alive. The good news is that she is, and it even feels like she’s been thriving in my absence. That’s the vibe lately, that the world is thriving- with or without me.

At some point, while having a walk along the never-ending promenade in Batumi, I was looking at the skyscrapers they built- all residential buildings- all with huge open balconies. I couldn’t help wondering- what about the safety issues? Aren’t there people who’d want to jump to such nice views every other day? There were definitely moments when I’d consider becoming one with the sunset. Too much drama? Too much existentialism? Nothing is too much at such a tournament. Good that it only happens every two years. I was asking myself how come that it was only the 3^rd time I played it at the respected age of 31. Well, I think God, or some higher power out there simply looked out for me. Now is the time I can deal with it. If God judged it so, who am I to question it, right? Probably Georgian people see it the same way- if He saw us having coffee on an open terrace on the 27^th floor, why should there be any doubts? Only that those companies building real estate like crazy are anything but Georgian. Here we have smoothly come to one of my existential questions- am I sure that the life I live is the one I wanted, or was it the seed planted by some foreign architect?

Seeping from a bottle of Belgian white beer with coriander on my safe terrace on the ground floor, I can enjoy the moment without worrying that in God I must trust to ensure my long living.

Unlike the flight to Batumi, the trip back home was surprisingly fast and enjoyable- a ten minutes drive to the airport, another 5 hours on planes, and here I am. Even the 13^th row seat did not bother me, neither the people constantly skipping que in front of me at the security check. The 8 euros cappuccino at the gate felt nothing but fair and the turbulences I have come to harmoniously cohabitate with- a joy. I was wise to prepare myself with some intense khinkali therapy last night. Nothing can compare to taking a bite and then sipping on it as loud as you can- letting everyone know how enjoyable the process is. If you have no clue what I’m talking about, only prayers to God might help.

Going back to my flight and the 13^th row seat, I thought that it was only that much time I could spend there. In a sort of zugzwang, I took the only available move- a trip to the places of need. On my courageous trip I found myself having a revelation when locking eyes with another player. Greeting each other at that moment of truth, I saw my pain in her eyes, and I couldn’t help feeling sorry- for her and for myself. Pathetic? Enlightening? 

107 players we were at the start. Then 64 and 32… Thirty-two minds calculating the ways to their dreams. There are just sixteen left now and I’m not amongst them. I could still be there; it was so close. The things you tell yourself when on that imaginary or not 27^th floor Georgian terrace… I have progressed compared to the last time, I played at the same level with an ex or future World Champion, I have even outplayed her. No, locked in our eyes on that plane I felt such a pain which I know, and she knows and maybe another 100 players calculating their ways home from Batumi know. The personal sacrifices one makes to be there, all those hours and years when you deny yourself what a normal life is- I saw them all. 

Playing vs Tan Zhongyi (photo by Anna Shtourman)

Luckily, the flights were short. I have more than one coriander beer at home and there are living souls happy to have me here, even if for combing their fur.

If you think the story is slowly coming to its logical pessimistic end, you couldn’t be further from truth. My day has actually taken a hilarious turn after landing in Bucharest. I continued my series of inspired moves by opening a message request. Marvellously educational experience! Someone has written to me that he finds me cute and quite smart. So pleasing! He continued with offering to have a meeting where I would hit certain parts of his body for his joy. This process had a particular name he recommended me to enlighten myself with. He felt it important to mention he’d need two weeks to recover shall I agree. 38 years old, not fat, engineer by profession were the details his fake account provided. We could even go for a coffee after he said. I had to satisfy my curiosity and did the due research for my enlightening- no judging. There could be a way for me to understand him wanting to be caused pain in the most intimate parts of his being by someone he considers cute and smart. After certain amount of beer, I could even see it as a compliment. Damn, I can even think of similarities between us!

The guy read me. How would I hit some engineer in the… Well, you know. But all in this life is about timing. Yesterday I might have found it compelling, but today I have entered my own two weeks of recovery time. Coriander, beer, cat, ground floor, no prayers.

Rope's perspective

(Can be read as continuation to ‘Earth’s sweet embrace’)

To want to save someone so badly that you surrender yourself to their darkness.

The depth of this well is not enough for her to find what she’s been looking for. How many more piles of dirt will she embrace before realizing they’re never going to suffice? Looking at her beautifully unhopeful companion, the rope shrugs. Salvation is not something you can convince one into. However, it is a job as useless as any other.

If peace is what she seeks, why not pursue it on the peak of a mountain? And if it’s solitude she aches for, why the lows and not the heights? Poor soul, peaceful and lonely you can be up there too. The delicate kiss of light and the shuddering bite of darkness are equally mortal. If only she’d let my body against hers, I’d gently convince her to accept my tremble.

Minutes became hours to only turn into days and then months. She came to trust me, letting me spend nights resting on her neck. Her body was mine and yet it was the soul I wanted her to yield. Why does she resist it? Could she have guessed the words of love I whispered in her ear were just a wish? All I want is for her smile to stop being sad. She has manipulated me into believing I could make her happy. However, all my efforts have been in vain. Her sad smile I have only succeeded in turning wry, at times even flippant. What does she want of me, crawl on my knees asking for forgiveness for who I am or whom I’m never going to be? Why seek my company at all then? I told her the image of mine she saw was not truthful. Yet, she insisted on telling me her secrets, letting me glimpse into the hidden places of her being. She told me power was important to her and that’s what I believed, she wanted the power over me. ‘That’s what I’ll never give you’, I told her. ‘But you didn’t let me finish, I meant…’, she continued. Silently waiting for her words to materialize, I let her gaze drown into mine. ‘Never mind’, she said looking away.

Special is what she thinks of herself. The thoughts, the suffering, the loneliness, like they’re all for her to feel only. I’ve been there a thousand times. Years I have over her and no flippant smiles would belittle who I know I am. Handfuls of necks like hers have begged me to release them into eternity. I look at her, resting, skin against damp walls.

Suddenly, I see her moving towards me. Her icy hands touch I feel. Embracing me, I sense her body tremble against mine. She has given in. I have persuaded her into abandoning the darkness of her well. Up she takes us. One steady move after another, the light comes closer. Jumping onto the ground, I see her eyes are still closed. Letting me lay next to my other half, she sighs and plunges back into darkness. Perhaps that’s what is best for both of us.

Hunger, Dust and Soups

Photo by: Pavel Gorczyca

Time has come to write a cheerful post.

With my headphones on, I take a sip of San Pellegrino enhanced with some slices of lemon. The pretentious sparkling water is part of the rewarding myself plan which I’ve conjured some hours ago, while doing groceries. And the lemon? Well, it is supposed to make me feel better about my disastrous eating regimen lately.

Looking through the window, I see a sunny Bucharest. The city is packed these days. All these people running here and there to desperately check off items on their Easter shopping lists…  I’d much rather stay at home, which I’ve been partly successful at doing. I say ‘partly’ because the very first days after my returning from the Europeans in Rhodes were crazy. All those people congratulating me, an interview here, an interview there, my phone buzzing all the time- it was dizzying.

Now that the dust has settled a bit, I can finally process everything. Looking around, I see that the dust has settled on my working desk too; on the trophies which lie around, mostly on the floor, dreaming of a nice shelf; on the tiles my steps are taking me to on trips from one room to another… I’d better do some cleaning soon. Perhaps it was smarter doing it before attempting to do the same with my thoughts and feelings. One step at a time though. Today I’m content with cooking for myself for the first time since I’ve returned. It was nothing fancy, just a soup, which was enjoyable but not particularly satiating. My stomach is already demanding food again. It can wait. Afterall, we eat to live, not the other way around they say. Hm, a stew would still be nice.

Back to the thoughts and feelings department now. This medal which has fallen upon me is the first individual continental one in my life. To quote the press, it is the biggest achievement of my career so far. Despite them getting wrong various, at times even most of the details about me, this one- they got right. They all expected me to be filled over the top with joy, inspiration and pride. I even almost felt those things at times, almost. However, it is only hunger that possesses me, in all senses. Even my cat throws worried glances at me. I guess my stomach must be on some violent protest. God bless these headphones! I can cold-bloodedly ignore the protests of masses in a similar fashion to the one ruling parties do in too many parts of the world these days. Interesting, what types of headphones do they use?

Now that we’re past these parentheses, let’s recalibrate our focus on what’s important here- thoughts. Or was it feelings? They seem to have merged lately. Anyhow, it is time to get to the bottom of them. Let’s pick it from that hunger feeling. The idea is that I felt happy for maybe ten minutes and then, there was nothing. I imagined it to be different. Of course, I don’t claim that the attention I was given by the press and officials, multiplied by my friends’ and family’s eyes sparkling with joy and pride left me cold. It was enjoyable, but unsatiating, just like my soup. At least my stomach knows what it wants- a second course, maybe even some dessert. And I, what more could I possibly want?

Earth's sweet embrace

Looking up towards the sky, I see a wary ray of sunshine. It seems to be a universe away. My eyes might be deceiving me after centuries spent in darkness, skin against damp walls. To be alive yet feel like death has scrawled into the deepest parts of your being.

I plant my fingers deep into the mud and wonder if burying myself alive would make me reconsider the indifference to which I’ve been treating my miserably hopeful companion. Leaning against the other side of the wall, a rope looks at me serenely. Mortality is something we share and immortality’s the thing neither of us will ever attain. Yet, we couldn’t be more different to one another. The darkness she chose to accompany me to is just one end. The other’s up there, basking in sunlight. Duality’s nothing but another thing I hated about the World above. Hence, I’ve never felt the slightest temptation of climbing back.

One handful of dirt after another, the hole grows deeper. So does my desire to comfortably lay in a tomb. I don’t know what happiness might be, but laying here, half foot into the ground, I almost feel life’s pain gone. Closing my eyes, I enjoy the warm stillness. With each breath, truth seems to be closer. Yet, this perfect numbness is disturbed by a presence. My companion. There’s a vibration of hope given perhaps by the promise of her reuniting with its other half. Why hasn’t she given up on it? It’s been centuries since they last met. Why doesn’t she just pull the other into darkness? Is the mere possibility of being back together under the sun worth what could be an eternity of damnation? I must either accept her limitations or help her out. There are no other ways of stopping these thoughts. If after all the time spent in this damp silence, she’s still not ready to renounce on worldly things... I could perhaps do one last thing for her. Slowly taking upon the task, handfuls of dirt start piling up next to me once again. I’m not doing it for myself. It’s not an excuse to feel the sun caress my skin. Out of earth’s sweet embrace, I start shivering. Is it the cold or the anticipation?

I am ready for this mission. One last effort and then, I’ll be able to plunge into an undisturbed solitude. Taking the rope into my hands, I unhurriedly start climbing. She feels tight against my touch, trembling at times. With each step, my eyes’ struggle to stay open increases. I remember another thing I hated about this World- its dazzling lights. Nevertheless, the determination to complete the mission pushes me to steadily work my way up- eyes closed. The effort, or the sun, what is it that makes my skin burn? Does it matter? Soon it will be over. Getting to the edge of the well, I jump to the ground. Not daring to open my eyes, I take a full breath of air. Then- one more. This smell- the smell of life makes my lungs hurt. I hurriedly pull out the rope of the well. It no longer feels tight against my skin. The burdens of darkness, silence and loneliness must be gone. Opening my eyes, an image starts shaping in front of me. Two identical and yet so different sides of the rope laying next to each other.

Looking one last time at my companion, I sigh and plunge back into darkness. The balance is restored.