We call it Melesteala
Some things start as a joke and quietly turn into rituals.
A few years ago, together with three close friends, we decided to spend a day outside. No agenda. We chose a place, brought ingredients, cooked together, and stayed there until it felt complete. During the first outing, one of the guys carved a wooden spoon and jokingly called it a melesteu – a made-up word that made no sense and somehow stuck.
We laughed enough that from that day on, we stopped saying “let’s go out” and started saying “let’s do a Melesteala.”
It happens only a few times a year. Not because it’s hard, but because time has a way of slipping away.
A day without tension
This time, we went near the Doftana river, close to Campina. It was cold. Nothing dramatic. Just enough to remind you that you’re outside and fully present.
There was no rush, no irritation, no pressure to do anything a certain way. We didn’t come to escape something. We just came to be there.
Photographing without knowing the outcome
I brought a film camera with me. I recently started shooting on film and I wanted to use it as much as possible.
That’s part of the appeal. Not knowing what you’ll get changes how you see. You shoot less. You wait more. You stop checking and correcting. It becomes playful instead of performative.
There was no pressure for the images to turn out “right.” It was simply part of the day, like the sound of water or the cold air. Below are some pics made with this.
A place that doesn’t ask to be photographed
If you ask me, the location wasn’t Instagrammable. And that was a relief.
What stayed with me was the river. The way the water moved, constantly, without asking for attention. It didn’t need to be framed or explained. It was just there.
Sometimes that’s enough.
Cooking as an activity, not a spectacle
We cooked meat, potatoes, and polenta. Simple food.
But the food itself wasn’t the point. The act of cooking together was. Doing something with your hands. Sharing tasks. Waiting. Sitting down when it’s ready.
Nothing optimized. Nothing rushed.
Why moments like this matter
Days like this don’t try to be productive. They don’t scale. They don’t translate well into posts or stories.
And maybe that’s exactly why they stay with you.
They remind you that not everything has to become content. Some things can just exist, quietly, and still shape how you see the world and the people in it.
