Böcker utgivna av Rea-Silvia Costin P.E.

This book is dedicated to the memory of mymother, Steliana Costin, who was a teacherof the culinary art.As, a child, I always thought of my mother as belonging to us, the family,entirely. Could not imagine that she had a separate life as a teacher, andloved and formed young people to become fruitful citizens of society. Iwas only seeing one side of mother's persona.The first glimpse of who my mother was happened when we were invacation hiking throughout a small village in the Carpathian Mountainsand logging with a peasant family.My mother talked to the young girl, dreaming of the word to open in frontof her eyes, and could not find a way out of the village life. My mothertold the young girl how to apply to the school she was teaching to, inBucharest, how she can better herself, and live her dreams.That's what teachers do, open doors, make dreams come true!Note: This is a very comprehensive cook book, concise, and precise,and the recipes arranged in a logical manner, by the methodology ofpreparation the dough.This book is written in metric units (the European system), but the unitscan be easily converted in English units with the help of a unit convertor.Also the quantities might seem rather on an industrial scale; again, it canbe reduced by dividing the quantities for as many, or as little, portionsyou need, and here the decimal system is a big help!

I remember being a little girl, maybe three years old-really my first conscious memory. My mother had just brought in the clean laundry freshly smelling of the outside spring air. I remember sitting on top of the bed, my mother dressing me up in a fresh, ruffled, red-and-white checkered dress. I remember asking my mother to fix my favorite hairdo, which was big curl pinned up on top of my head and set with a big red checkered ribbon. I was getting ready to go outside and play with other children.I was filled with joy and trepidation waiting to get out. I told my mother I was to play with children in a nearby playing ground, but in my mind I knew differently. I had already made up my mind to go to Cismigiu Gardens, where I heard the bigger children went. I had a vague idea that the park was just straight ahead from my house and I was confident I could make it on my own without telling anybody. The truth be told, I knew deep inside, that if I was to tell my mother, she was not going to let me go. I was filled with an adventurous feeling and ready to go in the exploration of new grounds.So, I left the house sometime during mid-morning and went straight ahead on the street leading from our house to Cismigiu. I passed the nearby playground called Gradinita (little garden) where the other children were playing and went farther until the street ended. There it was another street, wider, that was perpendicular on the street leading from my house. Now, just across this street were the Cismigiu Gardens, but that I did not know at that time.Now, here I stopped and looked around me. I did not recognize anything anymore. Worse, I turned around and now I got totally disoriented. I forgot which direction I came from and I could not go back home. Everything looked different, the streets so big and wide, cars crossing the road and me, a small girl, totally lost.I remember getting near a power pole and starting to cry. Nobody was nearby. Finally, a man passed by and asked me why I cried. I didn't remember exactly what he asked me and how it came that I went with him to his house.I remembered during that day playing with children in and out of some cars parked on a big empty terrain. I remember having a good time and having totally forgotten about my parents. When the evening came and the people took me inside their home, I remember that I started to cry again and ask about my parents. It was the man's name day, Saint Gheorge, and they were celebrating with food and wine. I remember their offering me sweets, but now I wanted my mother and I refused to eat anything. Finally, I remember my mother and father appearing in the doorway of the people's house and looking at me; my father wearing his overcoat and his hat, his heavy briefcase in one hand and the other around my mother's shoulders'; my mother with a scarf covering her hair and clutching in her arms my little brother-Radu. (That's how I know I was three years old at the time, as Radu is two years younger than me and he was a small baby at the time).Probably, as small as I was, I knew where I lived, or remembered the home telephone number, or the people who found me reported to the Police.Meanwhile at home, as I learned later, Mother was going totally out of her mind with worry and trying to find me through the Police. My older sister, Mady, who was in charge of me, took all the blame for not watching over me.

About the book "ATHENS":Athens is the second book in a trilogy that spans the lives of three generations of strong women: the author's grandmother Calliopi, the author's mother Thiana, and Silver, the author herself.Thiana, the first book, depicts Calliopi's and Thiana's struggles with life's adversities, Thiana's courage and determination in forging a better life for herself and her family, and Thiana's journey from her native village in northwestern Greece-AVDELA-to Romania.Athens, the second book, depicts Silver's life and adventures while in Greece.Silver, a young, inexperienced woman fresh out of college, escapes from Communist Romania and returns to her mother's native land, Greece, hoping to make a better life for herself and later on to bring over the entire family.Silver's dreams, fueled by her mother's stories, of finding acceptance, love, and security are crashed one after another as she faces the harsh reality.After only 14 months of staying in Greece, Silver is faced with a dilemma that will change her and her family's lives: to return to Communist Romania or to go forward to America.Athens is a love story, as Silver is fascinated by love, like a butterfly fascinated by the light, which goes too close to the source of heat, burning its delicate wings over and over again.Athens is a true recollection of stories and events that occurred during the author's stay in Athens.