Blog of Romania

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I am in Paris…And my little French often determines people to ask me questions like “Where are you from?”, “What is your native language?”…They often answer themselves: “Italian?”, “Russian?”… I found myself in a weird and uncomfortable situation…Tell the truth or let them think what they want?

Because, you know, on the subway, if I hear a man playing the accordion I often recognize some old and traditional Romanian songs… I feel real pleasure hearing those, but after a while, the singers begins: “I don’t have what to eat in Romania! I am the eldest brother and my mother is waiting for money from me to feed my six little brothers…”

Once, there was this young gypsy boy who spoke poor French and said as loud as he could that his father bit him to death and he ran away from the terror in Romania and here, in Paris, he had no one and no money…

And my boyfriend asked me: “Should I tell him in our Romanian to go and work some place?”…I don’t know what was better to say or do but my answer was “No, what’s the use?”

So, I talked to our French friends… They told us with frankness that all beggars are Romanians… They try to educate their children not to steal, not to swear and there they come: the worst car thieves, burglars and pickpockets are the Romanians…

And suddenly I feel real rage… We are a good, smart and educated people and we can not be judged by some individuals that speak Romanian… because this is their only link with our country.

Posted by andra on Tuesday, November 14th, 2006


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