Anișoara Mustețiu, a Romanian writer in Australia, beautifully preserves Romanian culture through literature, weaving childhood nostalgia and Romanian heritage into her storytelling. Interview published on February 18, 2025, by journalist Ramona Raduly in LIFE.ro
“Leaving my country at the age of 19 was a liberation.”
The story of Anișoara Mustețiu, who brought Romanian culture to Australia.
Anișoara Mustețiu is today a fulfilled writer, someone who has managed to transform longing and life’s trials into stories filled with emotion and wisdom. Living far from her homeland, she carries two worlds within her soul—the world of childhood, full of adventure and nostalgia, and the world of adulthood, shaped by searching, rediscovery, and fulfilled dreams.
Looking back on her childhood years, we find Anișoara in her grandparents’ village, Bucerdea Vinoasă, running across hills, exploring forests, tasting the pure freedom of youth. A curious child, always searching for something new, always eager for adventure. Her grandparents’ village was her corner of paradise—a place where she found solace and warmth, a world where the unwritten laws of the land and the soul remained untouched by time.
But her life was not only marked by moments of happiness—it was also shaped by profound loss. The early passing of her father, a poet and sculptor, left a deep wound, an emptiness that only writing would later fill. Yet, within that suffering lay the seeds of a great passion—the love for words, for art, for books.
Today, Anișoara Mustețiu continues her literary journey with the same curiosity and inner strength that have always defined her. Though life has taken her far—from Romania to Germany and then to Australia—the memories of childhood, the values learned from her grandparents, and the verses of her father accompany her always. Every page she writes is, in essence, a return home.
1. What was your childhood like? How did your grandparents’ village shape your life, and what memories connect you most deeply to that time?
In the past, I never spoke about my childhood. But now, in the years of full maturity, I wanted to look back, to understand better, to forgive, and to heal my wounds. My childhood was different from that of other children my age. I would say it was filled with moments of happiness, but also turmoil and pain.
I was raised by my father, the poet and sculptor Romulus Mustețiu, in Timișoara, in an environment steeped in artistic inspiration and creativity. His passing, just a few months after my thirteenth birthday, left me with profound sorrow and loneliness.
I found comfort for those premature wounds in my grandparents’ village, Bucerdea Vinoasă in Alba County. That village has remained, to this day, my corner of paradise. Not only because it is picturesque—surrounded by hills adorned with vineyards, dense forests, meadows sprinkled with wildflowers, and mountains that gaze tenderly upon the valley—but also because its people have hearts as warm as freshly baked bread. The ancestral laws are carved into the consciousness of every villager, and traditions are still upheld with honor.
What dreams did you have back then? Did you see yourself writing, or did life take you on a different path than you imagined?
As a child, I loved reading immensely. I also had a creative spirit—I enjoyed painting and composing poetry. However, I allowed myself very little time to dream. Life’s demands were different, directed more towards a harsh and unforgiving reality.
I discovered the charm of writing later, when I was walking on a clearer path in life and after establishing myself professionally. The desire to write surfaced suddenly, like a free manifestation of the spirit—driven to explore new spheres, the depths of the soul, and the universe itself. But the true luxury of writing came later, and with it, the realization that writing, for me, also meant healing.
What influence did your family have on your passion for writing? Was there someone who encouraged you in a special way?
My father was the one who planted in my heart a love for the beauty of the Romanian language and culture. He revealed to me the magic of poetry and books. In my childhood, he even dedicated a book of poetry to me. On the first page, there was a motto:
“My little girl, when you read
these golden lines,
let your heart soar toward the sun,
toward future generations,
take with you beyond today
both my thoughts and this book.”
Today, I am happy that I was able to fulfill his wish.
What kind of child were you? Introverted, curious, adventurous?
You make me smile… Curious and adventurous, always inclined toward mischief. When I was in my grandparents’ village, I would venture into the forests with the other children and challenge the shepherds’ dogs. Later, around sixteen, I would borrow a bicycle from friends in the village and ride all the way to Geoagiu Băi, where I would swim for hours in the pool—a round trip of 120 km. I did it naturally, thrilled to have a bicycle for a day and eager for adventure. Today, I marvel at that strength.
When we went to dances in neighboring villages, we walked there, of course, arriving home at dawn and receiving well-deserved punishments from my grandparents. But it was worth it—adventures were precious.
In Timișoara, my curiosities were different. I remember that at around six years old, I lived with my father in an old building with an inner courtyard, on Griselini Street. One day, I was drawn to a fluffy blanket hanging on the clothesline on the second floor. I climbed onto it. I was lucky that a neighbor saw me and saved my life.
Around the same age, when my father took me to his office, I once climbed into the attic of the Post Palace and walked across the ceiling, which was made of glass squares, each about the width of a ruler. I could feel some of them wobbling beneath my feet. That is a secret I have never shared until today.
During adolescence, I often withdrew into silence. In Fragments from a Woman’s Life, I wrote about those years like this:
“I can still see the image of that little girl. She read a book while a smile lit up her face. The story filled her loneliness. It seems that even then, she had already discovered a precious secret—time and books have the power to heal pain.”
When did you start seriously thinking about leaving Romania? What made you finally decide?
I left Romania in April 1990. It was a spontaneous decision. I was part of the mass emigration of Romanians—especially young people—following the Revolution of 1989 and the long-awaited triumph of freedom.
It was an exodus filled with challenges, as back then, Romanians did not have the rights or privileges they enjoy today.
Why did you choose Australia? What attracted you to this country, and how was the process of settling in?
In life, we never truly know where our steps will lead us, as nothing is strictly defined. Sydney was a threshold I crossed, enchanted by the magic of discovering a new world. But destiny had a hand in it too.
Still, my life’s journey has been somewhat more complex. I could say that Timișoara and my grandparents’ village in Transylvania were the cradle of my childhood. The town of Speyer in Germany, where I lived for twenty-four years, was the garden where I blossomed. And Sydney is the shore where I anchored my life’s ship in 2014—indefinitely.
What did you leave behind when you left, and how difficult was that moment?
Leaving my country at 19 was a liberation. When I think of my hometown, I feel drops of conflicting emotions flowing over my heart—love, admiration, sorrow. When I look at Timișoara, I do not see it only from the city’s center but also from that dusty corner where I stood at a young age. Timișoara is like a rose—beautiful, intoxicating, yet bearing its sharp thorns.
My departure was a choice, an escape. A decisive moment in which I pulled hard at the sails of my ship, changing its course toward the sun and the unknown storms ahead.
What was your first day in Australia like? What were your first impressions and biggest challenges?
First, allow me to tell you about my first day in Germany, in April 1990. I had left with a group of friends, who, after a few days, dispersed into different cities.
Hot tears ran down my cheeks. I had a fever, a terrible toothache, but I knew I had to endure. I couldn’t afford a doctor’s consultation. To hide how much I was suffering, I clutched my luggage tightly. Inside it lay all my worldly possessions—two sweaters, a white T-shirt, a winter jacket, a pair of boots, and a pair of jeans. At 19, it was natural not to own much.
Yet, I didn’t realize then how rich I truly was. I carried within me priceless treasures—pride and diligence learned from my grandparents, knowledge gained at Timișoara’s most prestigious schools, C.D. Loga and Philology-History, and a love for books and culture, nurtured in the brief time I had with my father.
At the age of 18, I had already lived through the whistling bullets of the 1989 Revolution, and after that experience, I believed that nothing could frighten me anymore.
I felt as if I were in a race, running to win. But my victory was of a different nature—a decent life, one of safety, peace, and harmony, where I could thrive through my own strength.
I was fortunate… I had emigrated to Germany, a country where human qualities are respected and valued. These opportunities inspired me. Of course, it wasn’t easy. But in the words of philosopher Albert Camus, even in the depths of winter, I felt within me an invincible summer.
The hardships we face in life serve a purpose. They sharpen our senses and abilities. They allow us to experience life as it truly is—beautiful, yet sometimes harsh. But the most meaningful falls are those from which we rise with newfound wisdom.
My departure to Australia in 2014 was likely guided by the hand of destiny. It was different, for by then, I had already gained maturity, tasted success, and fulfilled many dreams. Yet in Australia, I encountered new and unfamiliar obstacles.
How was the adaptation process? Was there anything that surprised you or something you didn’t expect?
Looking back on my life in Germany, I remember my face etched with the exhaustion of endless hours of work, trembling day and night over paperwork, pleading with the heavens and earth for a visa, never knowing what tomorrow would bring. But gradually, the days brightened, and one day, I was granted legal residency.
I immediately recognized my chance. I did not live as a mere passerby, seeking to take advantage of opportunities in a foreign land. I learned its language, culture, and traditions. I understood its joys and sorrows, strengths and weaknesses. I gave it my attention and appreciation. Only in this way was I able to earn the respect of those around me and foster my own growth.
Many years later, in Heidelberg, I met a former high school classmate who, in a quiet moment, confessed:
“Do you know that I have always admired you?”
“Why?” I asked, surprised.
“Because you always knew how to smile, even though you were burdened with hardships.”
I remained silent. How did she know? I had never complained to anyone. In fact, why would I complain? I did not know that life could exist without difficulties.
However, later, in 2014, adjusting to life in Australia was more challenging in different ways. The climate is vastly different. Without the protection of the ozone layer, UV radiation is extremely strong. In summer, it is nearly impossible to stay under the sun. Australia ranks first in the world in terms of skin cancer rates. Additionally, some of the most venomous snakes and poisonous spiders live very close to houses built in natural settings. Locals are accustomed to these challenges—I, however, was not. Here, everything must be enjoyed with caution—not just the burning sun. The Pacific Ocean is restless, tumultuous, very different from the gentle song of the sea.
I find peace and harmony at home, in my flower garden, alongside loved ones. Near this metropolis of five million residents, I listen to the cheerful laughter of Kookaburra birds playing among branches decorated with a myriad of lilac-colored flowers, called Jacaranda. In the distance, kangaroos emerge from the dry forests, leaping sporadically, gathering in groups, and sniffing out fresh food on the fertile plains of Hunter Valley. I love watching Chinese practitioners of Qigong and Tai Chi in parks, adore Thai and Vietnamese cuisine, and each morning, I gaze at the colorful parrots perched on the eucalyptus trees in my garden.
What were the moments when you truly felt that you had built a place for yourself there?
In Germany, I believe it took me ten years of intense work to achieve what I had set out to do. I built a secure life, infused with peace and harmony. The fruits of my economics studies from 1994 materialized into a job in Sales/Marketing at a successful international chemical company—a protective and developmental haven for nineteen years.
In my free time, I loved engaging in sports and pushing my limits. As a child, I dreamed of owning a bicycle. That dream came true later, and my patience was rewarded. After several years of intense cycling, which I practiced avidly, on March 16, 2001, I won—along with a group of athletes—a 24-hour indoor cycling marathon. Our marathon was recognized as a world record in the Guinness Book of Records. On March 17, 2001, the city of Speyer, newspapers, radio and television stations, the mayor, and local residents celebrated us with pride. And I felt strong. The meter on my bike recorded 874 kilometers covered in 24 hours. I think that was the happiest day of my life!
I can say that in the twenty-four years I lived in Germany, I enriched myself spiritually and culturally, adopting new ideas and ways of life. I absorbed all the best from German society—respect, discipline, precision, and the aspiration for a high-quality life.
In Sydney, despite having everything I needed, it took me a long time to adjust to a society so different in thought, culture, and behavior from that of Europe—an enormous metropolis shaped by 150 nationalities, predominantly Chinese, Indian, English, Vietnamese, and Filipino. Even so, I managed to make peace with this major change in my life.
In 2014, when I arrived in Sydney, I discovered—to my surprise—a little Romania. I started attending Romanian cultural events, concerts featuring Romanian artists, book launches, and met talented Romanians. Some of them became my friends. I can say that the cultural atmosphere here inspired me and sparked a new aspiration within me. The urge to write emerged suddenly, from those silences, from the depths of my being. I was taken aback—but I followed my instincts.
Here’s the English translation of your text, preserving its depth, emotional resonance, and poetic beauty:
When did you start writing seriously? Was it a way to stay connected to Romania, or did it emerge as a personal need?
For much of our lives, we strive to show only the best of ourselves, hiding our pain and mistakes. But there comes a time when we look back and wish to reveal what we never had the courage to say. That is how, in 2017, I began my pilgrimage into the depths of my being—listening to the voice of the child and adolescent within me, who told me stories of places, people, and events. Their voices became words, laid upon the pages of books. Through those reflections, the past and present met and took on a new form—one more understanding, more fulfilled, clearer.
Old wounds resurfaced. And to them, too, I gave voice, scattering them across the pages. Then, they became books—illuminated with emotions, alive, trembling—and people cherished them.
In 2019, I returned for a few weeks to the country where I was born. There, I gazed upon the places of my childhood with reverence, searched for the smiles of my mother and grandparents in the rainbows stretched over the lands of Transylvania, absorbed the freshness of fir forests, and cooled my lips with the crystalline waters of the mountain springs.
Back in Sydney, I felt a new energy humming in my soul—a gentle, restorative spiritual stream. Thirsty, I began to write. I was surprised… In life, I don’t usually set limits for myself. I search for them. I can say that in my literary adventure, I have reached farther than I ever imagined. A series of surprises followed—
a poetry book, two prose books, a children’s book, all in Romanian and English. Anyone interested can learn more about them here: https://anisoaralauramustetiu.com/
Then came friendships, deep connections with readers, countless publications in magazines, literary collaborations, my own Romanian-language cultural radio show, which I host periodically on ProDiaspora Radio, and the founding of a Romanian cultural magazine in Sydney, Emoții și Lumină. https://emotiisilumina.com/
And I keep moving forward. The opportunities for growth in this field seem endless… and I have yet to see my limits.
What inspires you the most when you write? What themes frequently appear in your work?
Love, in all its forms, is a central theme in my books. Human suffering and the sacrifices needed to overcome challenges, identity and self-discovery through the struggle for understanding oneself, the relationship between Man and Nature.
Sometimes, I enjoy writing poetry. Poetry has a unique beauty of its own. However, in recent years, I have fallen in love with prose. I am fascinated! Through it, I feel free to roam across timeless spaces, to paint scenes of life in words, to bring vivid, tangible emotions to the page, to reflect people and events on the canvas of time.
My books reveal true life stories. I always strive to give them depth, to fill their pages with fragments pulled from reality—freshness, delight, and lessons born from life’s experiences. They are works of literature, but they also carry a strong element of personal growth.
My love for the Romanian language—one that I have had rare occasions to speak during my 34 years abroad—is my most powerful source of inspiration. Words in my mother tongue have a unique resonance. They make my soul vibrate, and my heart beats stronger when I speak them.
What does your creative process look like? Do you have a specific ritual when you write?
I love mornings. I usually wake up at 6:00 AM. I cannot start the day without an hour of exercise, which is, for me, a form of meditation. Physical activity relaxes me and stimulates my creativity. By 8:00 AM at the latest, I begin writing—usually until noon.
When I write, I feel fulfilled. The flowers in my garden smile at me from nearby, but I notice them less, as I am lost in other worlds—either from the past or entirely imaginary.
There are also days when I must dedicate my mornings to projects or responsibilities. At midday, after a half-hour run with my puppies, I shift my focus to publications in Emoții și Lumină, the magazine I founded in 2022, or prepare for my radio shows on ProDiaspora.
What does success in writing mean to you? Is it more of a personal validation or a way to inspire others?
Writing, like books, holds a special magic when it flows from deep within—born of journeys through the realms of existence, the soul, the heart, the universe, and the unknown paths carved by imagination. Sometimes, thoughts travel through the world and find rest under the reader’s gaze. There, they may exalt the spirit and touch the soul with fragrances of wonder and warmth.
I savor success through the joy of my readers. My spiritual connection with them brings me happiness. Last year, my visit to my grandparents’ village was a true month of celebration. I had published two prose books—Fragments from a Woman’s Life (Romanian-Australian Academy of Culture Publishing) and The Price of Honor (Romanian-Australian Book Club Publishing)—both reflecting authentic scenes from rural life. Most of the villagers read these books and were deeply moved. I felt their joy in my heart, and that feeling made me feel fulfilled as a writer.
Romanian vs. Australian audiences—how are your books perceived in these two worlds?
My first book was written in English—a poetry collection titled Travel in Time, A Life Story in Poems. As one literary critic described it:
“TRAVEL IN TIME, written by Anișoara Laura Mustețiu, proves that the emotions expressed by Rumi almost eight hundred years ago—’only the soul knows what love is’—remain true even today.”
In 2019, I was actively engaged in poetry groups on Twitter, where I connected with members from all corners of the world. They cherished my verses and were among the main buyers of my books on Amazon. However, I also found significant support in bookstores within my local area.
In 2020, I wrote a children’s book titled Yarran, Stories from Australia. The special bilingual Romanian-English edition, published in 2024, brought joy to Romanian children in Australia, offering them the opportunity to practice their native language. Likewise, this edition, presented last year at the Alba Iulia Book Fair, was appreciated by children in Romania eager to learn English.
I believe that people who love books, regardless of the country they live in, always know how to savor and enjoy them.
I am deeply grateful for the support offered by various cultural groups in Romania, such as the esteemed professors Florica R. Cândea and Carina A. Baba from Arad, as well as Aurelia Rînjea from Ploiești. I also extend my thanks to the literary magazines Gutenberg, Armonii Culturale, Mangalia News, and to the Australian writer and publisher George Roca, along with the Romanian Association Doina Queensland. But the number of those who appreciate and support me is far greater.
If you could convey a single message through your books, what would it be?
Life’s circumstances are not equal for all, yet the chance to harness one’s inner strength exists within every soul.
Do you feel closer to Romania or Australia? How do you manage to maintain a balance between these two worlds?
In Australia, I feel truly fulfilled. Here, as I mentioned earlier, I have anchored my life’s ship indefinitely. My cultural activities—whether through books written in Romanian, my ProDiaspora radio shows, or Romanian cultural events in Sydney—give me the sense that I have, or have created, a little Romania beside me.
Do you ever miss Romania? What do you miss most?
When longing for my homeland and my grandparents’ village washes over me, I retreat into my inner world and begin to write. I travel with my soul down country roads… into memories of my grandparents and dear childhood friends.
I have lived abroad for thirty-four years. Yet, this endless foreign land has not diminished the essence of my being—the roots of my Romanian heritage. When I become aware of it, I feel closest to myself—to that young woman who once set out to forge her own path in the West. When I reflect on the past, I feel a deep and peaceful serenity—like a warm prayer that settles gently upon my face. I feel fulfilled. My thoughts rest in a pure and healing light. I remain at the threshold of existence, eager to absorb new wisdom.
If you could bring an element of Romanian culture to Australia, what would you choose and why?
The beauty and spiritual richness of the Romanian village, which I adore and never tire of describing in my stories. I believe it best reflects the originality and character of Romanians. There, traditions and ancestral customs still live, kindness and hospitality endure, ethical values remain strong, and the soul stays connected to the land, nature, and God.
I hope these spiritual treasures remain powerful and continue to flourish despite modern influences.
What are your plans for the future? Is there a new book or special project coming up?
I am pleased to announce the release of my new prose book, Between a Kiss and Pain. It will soon be available on Amazon’s online bookstore, and in Romania through Libris.ro.
Between a Kiss and Pain is the continuation of the much-beloved The Price of Honor, which won readers’ hearts last year. I am delighted to share this new story with lovers of drama, romance, and personal growth literature.
What would you say to those who dream of building a future in another country but fear taking the leap?
Emigration is influenced by many factors—society, place, and the culture of the host country. But ultimately, it depends most on ourselves.
If a person is ready to face any difficulty with courage, to fight hard when necessary, to understand that every setback holds a valuable lesson, to respect the society and its laws, and to channel their energy toward meaningful endeavors, then they are on the right path.
Foreign lands are filled with opportunities for growth, but they require struggle and long-term sacrifice.
If you could give advice to the Anișoara of 20 years ago, what would you tell her?
This question moves me… I would tell her:
“Dear child, believe fully, in every moment of life, in your abilities! A failure holds within it a new lesson—but also a new opportunity, often greater than the one you fought for before.”
Ramona, thank you for this interview. You brought tears to my eyes. I wish you and all Romanians at home a life filled with peace, harmony, and love.
And perhaps, we will meet again in the pages of my books—in literary journeys where I warmly invite you to join me.
Anișoara Laura Mustețiu,
Sydney, Australia
Interview published by Ramona Raduly in LIFE.ro
