When I look back to my early childhood, I see everywhere the signs left by my parents' and grandparents' efforts. I created this page in recognition of my parents' efforts and influence throughout my childhood and beyond.


As a kid, I assumed I learned to read on my own, before going to school, mostly through my efforts and I took that as a sign of my higher than average intellect. In retrospect, that could not have been so. Though I don't remember it, it was mostly my mother who taught me the alphabet - i.e., recognizing the letters. And one day, when I was waiting too long on my father to read me the bedtime story, I took the book in my hands and started reading. I could probably never have done that so easily if a) I had not known the alphabet already and b) my mother tongue happened to be phonetic. I'm sure this is a harder trick to pull in English, which is anything but phonetic.

This photo marks a particularly painful moment in my early childhood.

At home, I had taken a keen interest in a large plastic toy truck. I would load it up with dirt and indulge in terraforming fantasies whenever I had a chance to play outside (which was very often by today's standards). In the evening, my father would emphatically yell from our 1st floor window for me to go inside, which I detested. I thought I would teach him to stop doing that by bringing the truck full with dirt inside and instead, he took the truck to my grandparents, 600km away. I knew my truck was not going to ever come back and surely, my cousin Cristi had started using it right away, to my grandfather's chagrin (who didn't want holes dug up in his front yard).

It wasn't going to be the only favorite toy that my father was going to separate me from and though not the last, it's the only one I can still see in a photo (the lower right corner).

While my mother guided my brain toward literary pastures, trying to teach me French, it was my grandparents, especially grandpa, who forced maths into it. Every summer holiday I had to spend a few hours on the "veranda" in my grandparents' cottage, at Sucevita (the site of an ancient monastery, a UNESCO World Heritage Site), working on math problems.

I also used to go with my grandparents to the littoral, more precisely 2Mai.

The other two places / experiences that have significantly enriched my childhood were Minisong and Cabanita, which happened to me mostly as a result of my father's efforts.


Rather than talk / write too much, I'll let the photos tell my story (I'll be adding older photos to this album soon). I suddenly became more photogenic upon meeting a videographer.

The first professional I “worked” with is Sorin Iliesiu, who was, last I checked, a videographer for the “Social Dialogue Group” and has since made a documentary about a multi-year protest movement (“University Square”). He’s taken photos of me around the time I was an almost-adolescent and looking at his work, I realized the difference between an artist’s creation and an amateur’s.

I also had an uncle who was quite famous as a photojournalist, George Aurel Mihailopol, but sadly, he passed away while I was little.


A few papers:

Back when I had a house I used to rent out the basement and first floor (these were separate pages without navigation links so that prospective renters wouldn't be confused).

Will be adding here papers as I find them and scan them, just in case I lose them.

I haven't discovered the Internet in the 90s due so much to my parents, but my father's "computing gifts" made this cognitive milestone possible.

This page is part of the Andrei Zodian experience 😀