1945-1953 – Romania and Italy
I have to laugh when I see all the AKA names I have. I could add one more – my birth certificate says Mihaela Musu because that is how they spelled Moussou in Romania.
I was born in Braila, on December 8,
Str. Brezoianou 58 A
We moved to the capital, Bucharest, where we had a nice apartment in a much desired neighborhood, near the beautiful Cișmigiu park and the king’s palace. My parents had to leave it behind when they left Romania. A high ranking communist took it over and gave it to his daughter. We have been trying to get it back without success. It is pretty dilapidated by now but it should legally belong to our family. My Dad had bought it by paying it’s full price with gold bars as was the custom back then.
Cișmigiu Gardens
Of course I don’t remember anything about Romania but here is what I was told:
– I loved to perform, either by dancing or telling little children poems.
– As I was watching a movie of Lauren and Hardy I shouted in a loud voice: ‘Lauren and Hardy come to my house’ which provoked loud laghter from the audience.
– I had a vivid imagination and used to tell stories about belonging to another family giving daily details and updates of what was going on in my other family. One day, when I was walking with my Grandmother I wanted to show her where my other house was and started crying when she would not go the way I wanted. When my Mom told me to stop telling stories whenever someone asked me how my other family was doing, I would say ‘the house caught fire and everyone died’. Note I was only 2 1/2 years old at that time.
When the communist regime took over, my Dad was able to leave Romania with his Greek passport but they would not let my Mom leave with my sister and me. It took her one year to finally be able to be allowed to Join my Dad in Italy. This is our passport picture. My very first recollection is actually of that train trip. I remember red velvet seats on the train, stopping in Hungary where we visited some friends who lived there and a nice lady gave me some toys to play with. Then, arriving in Italy, I was scared as armed soldiers marched in the train to ask for papers. But soon after I got distracted by my Father standing on the platform and making funny faces through the window.
Via Simeto 62, Rome, Italy
We were very lucky as refugees who had to leave everything behind and came to a new country with only a suitcase. Kind people let us live in this beautiful apartment in Rome and we went to the best Catholic school. The building was very close to the park of Villa Borghese where we would go play cowboy and Indians. As I was the youngest, I was always the ‘bad’ Indian that got caught and tied to a tree. But I did have a very handsome boyfriend. Doesn’t he look dapper with his cute coat and beret?
Back then, in 1947, right after the war, things were tough in Europe. My Dad would have to go months without pay. That is when it was decided to emigrate to Brazil for better opportunities. Luckily, just before we were ready to sail my father was finally paid for several months back pay and was able to change our 3rd class tickets to a better class, to my Mom’s great relief. We were out walking on the day he got the news and came across a man selling a big bunch of helium balloons. My father was so happy he started bursting them one by one with his cigarette, laughing his heart out as the balloon seller was loudly adding the price of the damage!
This picture was taken on the ship that sailed from Naples to Santos, Brazil. There was going to be a big celebration when the ship would pass the Equator and I was supposed to sing the song ‘Volaré’. Unfortunately I got sick, I started throwing up everything that went in my stomach and they had to take me to the ship’s infirmary. The infirmary was quite scary as there were many people in bunk beds moaning with all kinds of diseases but my Dad came in the middle of the night and kidnapped me. He took me to their cabin and would not let anyone take me back to the infirmary. When we landed in Brazil I was taken directly to the hospital. They suspected appendicitis and removed my appendix but there was nothing wrong with it. I continued to be sick for days. They ran all kinds of tests and could not find what was wrong with me but one day I mysteriously got well. I now suspect it must have been some kind of a virus that just did it’s thing. I can still sing Volaré by heart!