It’s an odd feeling that whenever I am at home in Arad, I also unavoidably feel like a tourist too: since I have not spent considerable stretches of non-holiday time here for a decade or so, I do not have a data plan on my phone, so I keep hunting wi-fi connections. Needless to say, it’s a silly thing, one of those symptoms of how our society has totally alienated us from others, and ourselves as well.

As I was waiting in a car parked next to a bus stop the other day, I noticed how everyone was either fingering their phones, or talking to someone- on the phone naturally. They usually spent a careful time staring at the screen, looking like they’re working hard at figuring out whom to call, and why. Just as I was about to become comfortably judgmental, it dawned on me how the most pleasant part of my day had been taking in the sun in the Pensioner’s Park- and discovering that there’s a free wi-fi connection.

It was kind of hard to decide whether it had been the sun to make me happy- or the wi-fi. I would say a combination of both, and, for my defense, I could also add that under normal circumstances, I would have settled for a book, but I happened not to have one with me. So as I was merrily browsing the Internet, I bumped upon an article about how February had been the hottest month on record, compared to expected averages.

And that made perfect sense, judging by the number of trees in untimely bloom I had just photographed. Generally, the whole of February had been on fast forward flower-wise: there used to be a time for snowdrops, and then a time of hyacinths and daffodils, and then a time for tulips. This year everything came in fits and starts, and all at once.

So I should have- panicked? Made plans to eat less meat, fly less, shower less, use less poisonous sounding household products? Maybe. But I was just happy for the sunshine, the wi-fi, the pink blooms. Spring is an irresponsible time. Or perhaps I am irresponsible full stop. Is being born in spring an excuse? I hope so.