Blog of Romania

Like his homologue from other large cities in the country, the Bucharest bus-man (or trolleybus, or subway, or tram) is always rushing to get somewhere, it doesn’t matter where, maybe at the market, maybe at a concert, maybe at a play (by the way, most theaters in Bucharest were sold out), maybe at a movie (to come in several minutes after it begins), maybe to bow to the ottomans, maybe for a date with death.

However, people in Bucharest seem more in a hurry than anyone else in Romania. Some news! When the bus starts to approach the station, they start bustling about. I have a hunch that one of them sacrifices himself and keeps guard, perched up on a pole to give the signal. All of a sudden, they start swarming towards the direction the bus is coming from, thus forcing the driver to stop half a block away. Suddenly, the grandmas and grandpas who minutes before inspired compassion with their slouching shoulders - making you stop and think about how your own life will end - find renewed energy, like they’d just finished high school, and sprint to the bus, to make sure they get a seat. No matter how narrow the space, someone *will* squeeze in between you and the door, perhaps with the aid of your brand-new shoes.

Chronologically gifted citizens

I understand that we are (we always were) a hungry nation, but I don’t know the explanation for this elderly shopping fever. Our older fellow citizens (or chronologically gifted, as I found in a dictionary of politically correct terms) use up their last energy resources to struggle through a whole metropolis in the search of an egg with the correct price. It figures - they get free transportation, people give them their seats (because they stare at you pleading-insistently, with the curse ready and handy), all they need is to find that miraculous, mythical area where the egg is 25 bani cheaper than in the shop downstairs.

How do I say this without being labeled as a well-meaning individual…? In Romania, today’s elderly people (65 - 80 years old) live in exactly the future they made for themselves. They wallowed in the houses of the bourgeoisie and of the Romanian cultural elite, paying very small rent to the state. Through their lack of involvement, they supported the totalitarian regime and its hostility to any trace of merit or performance. They kept quiet, they “protested” by stealing, bribing and telling jokes (is this called “resistance through culture”?), while others (Polish, Hungarians) were dying in jails or in street fights against the Russian oppressors. I admit, we did have our resistance, but it was too isolated to lead to political reform. So we need not be surprised that their ideal in life is now an egg 25 bani cheaper.
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Yesterday, while I was in traffic, I saw a gesture I liked and which impressed me. It was cold, the traffic was jammed. A taxi driver next to me honked at a freezing old lady who was waiting for a tram which wasn’t coming any time now, since it was also caught in the traffic jam, and took her in his cab (since they were going the same way) without asking for money. I thought I was a beautiful gesture, which should be admired. There still is hope for some taxi drivers.

Original post: here (RO).
Radu is a 24-years-old engineer in Bucharest.

Today was definitely Freak Day. Saw some weird people-related stuff today. It all started when I arrived half an hour earlier at the Opera. I wanted to buy tickets for tomorrow’s performance: Rigoletto [I’m going to the Opera!!!! I’ve waited for this moment for such a long time!] but didn’t know that it opened only at 10 o’clock. No problem; took the book from my backpack, sat on the stairs of the building and started reading. Shortly after that, a man appeared out of nowhere and started talking to me:

‘I’m X [can’t remember the name] and I’m George Enescu’s great-grandson. We look alike, don’t we?’

After this shortly introduction the man started talking on and on and on and on… He was in his late-sixties, neatly dressed and smelled of cheap soap. You could see from the little red cuts on his cheeks and chin that he had just shaved. He told me he had finished 3 universities, had a very rich family and had had several wives. Also he had seen every performance from the Opera and the Athenaeum in the last 15 year.

The man looked normal, but from the way he was talking you could realise that, well, he was nuts. And he kept blinking rapidly and keeping his eyes for 3-4 seconds now and then. It was really disturbing. But I kept a smile on my face and simply nodded to all the things he told me about. I guess he liked that cause he said that if I go on Friday at another performance, he would make sure I won’t have to pay for the ticket. x_X Was that a date? God, I hope not!!! I managed to buy the tickets and then I abruptly departed the half-mad man. Hope I won’t bump into him the next time I’m going to the opera.
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Last night was my first at the Bucharest Athenaeum, inside the Great Hall. I must say I felt so small in many ways; there was I, the midget, amongst the giants.

The orchestra started playing and after this first feeling of self-fulfillment, a sentiment of rage came over me. Some sort of anger towards all of you who ignored the poster, those of you who didn’t bother to make time for this concert. I hated you all. I also felt like my shouting was in vain, because most of you missed such a wonderful thing.

I felt richer, all of a sudden. I think I grow this immense admiration when it comes to those who can reveal such musical wonders from boxes or using some strings or tubes. It’s all giving you the chills, but not just on your back; the sensations travels from your finger tips to toes and then you feel weak, like after the coldest cold. Do you know how that feels?

Well, today you don’t!

As my most recent occupation is collecting papers I went first and foremost for the one harder to get (in terms of time). Here’s how it went:
I was very lucky I knew the number of the room where to go as there was no one what so ever that I could ask (I know because I looked around trying to find someone to ask where exactly that number is - after a while I started wandering the corridors by myself).

Now, on finding my door I discovered I was lucky enough not to have a long queue in front of me like some of the other rooms had :) On waiting near it I noticed that on the door it was a sign saying “Enter 2 people at once”, 2 being underlined. While I asked myself why did they accentuate the two, perhaps people only entered one at the time and that was bothering them because they kept expecting for more? This didn’t seem likely but neither did the exact opposite, people entering in large groups in a single office. I couldn’t decide which was it but I thought I won’t take any chances so when the person in front of me entered so did I.

And I found myself in an average sized room divided in two by the fearsome glass wall behind the clerks stood and where 75% of the customer’s side was barred. There was only one working office and about 1.5 x 1.5 m of space where the people came to ask for papers could stay. Ooops, I thought, and I asked: “Shall I get out?” as I really didn’t think the rule on the door was still applying. The clerk gave me a totally empty look and so I continued “The sign on the door said that two people were to enter at once”. At which she looked at me and said in a very condescending tone: “Did I say anything to you?” (I cannot describe that tone, it felt like I was slapped on the face, I swear I felt my eyes become larger with incredulity)(while my mind was busy wondering - did she mean “Did I say anything to you? You mustn’t be here so I have nothing to say to you. Out!” or did she mean “Did I say anything to you? No and that means you can stay else I would have told you so in a very unpleasant way.” - I decided upon the latter and I stayed).
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Traveling through Romania to get to the airport in Bucharest and back again from there to my town were amazing traveler’s tales of endurance and fortitude, and an indication of how much trouble you can get into by being a “smart” traveler. I’ll tell you about it here, for those who love these stories about getting around in a still-developing country.

I left for the train at 11 p.m. the night of August 31. It’s not far to walk from my apartment, and I tried to pack light. I had cleverly figured out that I could get off the train at Chitila station at 4:30 a.m., and call a cab to take me the 8 kms to Baneasa Airport for my low-cost 7 a.m. Blue Air flight to Stuttgart. I already had bought the train ticket online to Munich from there. Oh, what a wise and experienced traveler I am! I couldn’t find any local Romanian who had made that direct connection from that train stop to the airport, but everyone agreed that this station is much closer than the main one in downtown Bucharest, where the connections are so bad that you have to spend the night in a hotel.

My schedule gave me 2 1/2 hours to get from the train to the airport, which seemed pretty safe to me. Everyone knows the taxi drivers in Buc are famous for ripping you off, especially when you want to get to an airport, so I got lists of the honest taxi companies, and even practiced calling them the day before, to be sure I could be understood (I even found a couple dispatchers who spoke English!), and that they would send a cab for me. Someone mentioned that the Chitila gara (station) is in a bad neighborhood, but that didn’t really bother me since I had it all figured out.

Well, I can tell you from experience NOT to do what I did.
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Before I moved to Bucharest, when I was in my first year of college, I had only visited the city for a few days or I’d simply passed through. I knew nothing about Bucharest, I didn’t know the streets or how to use a subway card and I had no idea that it could get so crowded and exhausting sometimes.

But I fell in love with it since day one. And day one was rainy and muddy as hell. Day two made me love it even more, even though this day was incredibly sunny and hot and everybody picked on me for not making enough room in the busy buses for those who wanted to get off. How was I supposed to know how things work around here?

I looked at this city with an open heart, if I may put it this way. I never listened to those who continuously said that it’s an ugly place to live in, that it’s crowded and filthy. That’s not what I saw. I noticed and felt its noise and vibration; I could see the details on old buildings and enjoy the human diversity. I got used to its oddities and contradictions, I was caught in its rhythm and I never let any traffic jams, holes in the ground or ugly and frowning faces spoil my mood or change any opinions I had about this place.

I can’t give myself any explanation on why some people here can’t see beyond the crowded streets. I have no idea why some are so up tight and don’t take a look around. Indeed, there are days and days when you can only see the dirt or go to places that bring nothing special, but irritation and annoyance, but even New York has its rats and beggars, while Paris has its stinky streets.

And I must mention those (students, especially) who spend only 3 or 4 days a week in Bucharest, then run off back home, in the nearby towns. They should keep their mouths shut when it comes to this city, because during those 3 days spent here, when they only travel the route school - auntie’s place/rented place/dorm, the time to visit a park, to take a walk or go to a theatre is nonexistent. They only see traffic and tired people, but Bucharest means much more than that.

I also disagree to those who have been living here for some time, but keep on cursing the place or the authorities or everybody around them, for that matter. There are so many quiet towns in this country, why should you occupy my green square meter if you’re incapable of appreciating it? Oh, excuse me. Bucharest is the Capital, endless possibilities exist, you work here and you wouldn’t have a job somewhere else. In this case, my friend, lower your voice while cursing and accept your choices, with everything that they imply.

I’m saying that Bucharest is for the strong, because not everyone can take a walk at the end of a long day, to see something besides the subway-train’s ceiling. Not all of us can notice what’s around and smile more outside the house or away from the TV. Sometimes one can simply ignore the ugly things, because it’s good for the spirit and the general state of being. I, for one, have too little brain cells for me to waste them away on cursing around or complaining about everything that’s going wrong in Bucharest.
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Today we are starting a new section on the blog: the artist feature. Each week we will present you a Romanian artist and his view of the world.

First up is Silviu Piros, a 20-year old born in in the medieval city of Sighisoara and who is now studying in Bucharest. Silviu started taking photography seriously about two years ago and this is a selection from his gallery.

The FanFest festival at Rosia Montana.

Bezid, the sunken village
(In 1988-1989 the Communist regime turned the village Bezid in Mures county into an artificial lake. The houses are still at the bottom of the lake, and only the remains of this church can be seen.)

Bucharest, Calea Victoriei

Rosia Montana

For more pictures from Silviu Piros, click here.

This summer we (meaning the boyfriend - the designated driver - and me) decided to go to the seaside, and since we were in the area we thought we should visit Histria - he liked it, I’d never seen it and I’m fond of ruins. Give me ancient walls over sky-scrapers any day!

I mentioned the part about the driver because I think it’s quite impossible to get there any other way. We managed to get lost for a while (missing road signs, deserted roads… perfect combination), but in the end we made it there safe and sound.

A bit of history now: Histria was a Greek colony founded on the Black Sea coast in the 7th century BC and it existed for 14 centuries, until the 7th century AD. Since then the landscape has changed a bit, and the former seacoast is now the shore of the Sinoe lake. It is obviously very old and its history is complex, so for more details check out wikipedia.

I’m not quite sure what my opinion is. I wasn’t as impressed as I thought it would be. The place is very beautiful, but unfortunately there aren’t many explanations for just what you are looking at. Don’t get me wrong, there are signs (see below), but you can’t find any written guides or a map you can carry around with you. You might be able to book a tour guide, but we didn’t ask about it. One of the very good things, however, is that the signs that do exist are bilingual (one of the problems of museum etc. in Romania is the lack of English - or any other foregin language - on the signs).

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So, we had to write an advertisement for our country as homework at English. Here`s what Andrew and I came up with. Must say Andrew`s insane, nothing more and nothing less. :)))))))

‘Are you bored of the same wonderful vacations in the Caribbeans, the clean beaches with white sand and clear blue water? Are you tired of Switzerland`s Alps, the clean white snow, good wine, hot whiskey and delicious ginger? If the answer is yes, then you must come to Romania. We guarantee you won`t have a pleasant stay.

So, come to Romania, and find out that vacations are not only fun; they can also be full of stress and willingness to return to your country. Live the unique Romanian experience !’

:)))))))) I don`t wanna know how my grade would have looked like for something like this. :))