| "Romanian traffic" |
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| Bucharest Nights |
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An old saying has it that whoever drinks the "sweet waters" of the river Dimbovita will never wished to be parted from Bucharest.� To which
one nineteenth century traveller retorted that anyone who did, would be incapable
of leaving the city forever afterwards. I like the river Dimbovita.� Walking along it I can sense a feeling of being near home.� I�m not sure why.� It is nothing like the river Torrens.� No trees, no grass, no place to sit, read, and feed the ducks.� Actually there are no ducks.� The river flows down a concrete channel that runs down the center of a highway heading towards Piati Uniri.� When it is dry in summer it resembles the chase scene from Terminator 2.� Now that winter has arrived the river is flowing again.� I fell comfortable next to such a large mass of water.� I take one last look.� The river is quite and tranquil, yet thousands of impatient cars run along the waters edge.� Their headlights blur into the square that is Piati Uniri, itself illuminated by neon lights and glowing billboards.� I turn down Calea Victorei and meet Hakan in the Egyptian Cafe. They must fulfill the desire for entertainment, confession, & philosophy all in one. Barka Saffran. The ambience perfectly suits the situation.� I hang up my coat on the soft orange wall and sit down on a tiny wicker chair.� Arabic music plays in the background.� We order nargula and Turkish coffee.� Hakan begins to describe his day in the most exquisite detail.� The beauty of an Orthodox Church, the sincerity of a small child, and the dedication required to pave a cobbled street. I inhale the smoke deep into my lungs. Everything he says is extremely deliberate.� He makes powerful gestures with his hands, and takes a great deal of pride in the words that he chooses. I exhale slowly, letting the smoke escape directly in front of my face. Hakan fell in love today.� In a conversation that lasted five minutes he covered everything from Turkish culture to the meaning of life.� It was perfect he exclaims, I think she is the one.� But I didn�t get her number and I don't have anyway of contacting her.� I will find her. REM. Hakan has the ability to see everything in a positive light.� I guess things aren't so bad after all.� I wonder what things would be like if I had stayed at home. This is the idea: you get into your car that you bought this year on some huge mortgage scheme and will have to replace in another year or so after you've killed a few birds mammals and maybe a child or two and drive to the supermarket past all the shops that have been put out of business by the supermarket and park on a huge expanse of concrete that has been put on a field or a wood then walk probably further than you would to a corner shop and commandeer a huge trolley and go into the supermarket and fill up the trolley with things you don't want don't need and can't afford then have an argument with whoever you're with because the whole experience is beginning to destroy you and then you queue up behind a line of similarly soul-damaged people then a poor unfortunate kid or pensioner who probably dreams in bleeps reads the barcodes on everything and doesn't want to hear you say anything and is obliged to ask you if you have a loyalty card and if you want cashback, (yes please I'll have the fucking lot back and you can keep all this crap in my trolley), then you have to cart it all back to your car and load it up in the boot and get in and get out of the garganchuan carpark then drive home through the bleak waistland occupied only by those too poor to own a car and unload it all again into your dream home and then consume it all and when you've shat it all out you have to fucking go back again. WHAT A NIGHTMARE. Well maybe...or it could be just a little boring.� I guess Colin would know, he has been back for some time now. I was just looking around the computer lab and found people creating business presentations and dressing up, all playing house, or doctor, or buisness, all pretending that this shit we do in school is really important.� Some is, but not really as much as the expirences.� That is why i have decided that if an oppurtunity arises i will jump on it and blow off school if necassary.� I envy you being able to travel around and live life to the fullest, not becuase you are not busy, but you have the right attitude...when i was overseas with you guys you might have rembered that i said just to do this, or this, but know have gotten lazy, why? I am not old. Hakan invites me to Ankara.� I immediately accept but then have financing and timing doubts.� Now I am going to disappoint him.� I really have to put more thought into what I say. We finish the Nargula and head on over to the Sydney.� A poster of Isarescu, a presidential candidate drapes across the first eight floors. Matei Anton. Chris is on his third beer and second packet of ciggies. "Mate, you've really got to quit." "This is my last one," he replies and vows never to smoke again. Thank god Chris is here.� Now that Kevin has left I need someone to keep me sane.� Kevin;� I wonder what he is doing now... 13/11� I'm drinkin absinth with some aussies in vienna.� i'm not hallucinating yet, but i am buzzing pretty good. 16/11� I'm in krakow right now.� very nice city.� one of the most beautiful i've seen. bratislava was pretty blah. 20/11� Romanian money does not work in Germany.� Berlin is very cool.� I highly recommend it. 22/11 Denmark is cool, but expensive. 29/11 Norway is really cool.� Expensive as hell though.� All of Scandinavia is nice actually.� Lots of rain though.� It's pissing me off! 30/11 All my love to the ladies. Pumpkin begins to tell a story about someone she knows.� I notice Ali sitting in his usual seat staring out the window.� The same advertisements scroll across that damn billboard, over, and over, and over again.� We begin to discuss his recent decision to quit. Ali Erdogan - Former Trainee. I tend to agree.� This experience has certainly made me stronger.� The conversation switches to my website and Ali gives me some of his patented marketing advice. You are not saying what is right and what is wrong.� What you are saying is your opinion.� That is what makes Romanian Traffic original. Ali Erdogan - Former Trainee. Later in the evening I run into John Wing.� I take the opportunity to thank him for the contribution he made to Olympic history.� He buys me a beer and we sit down to discuss it in more detail. In 1956 during the Melbourne Olympic Games, John, a 17 year old boy wrote a letter to the International Olympic Commitee.� Inside was a creative idea to break the tension between the competing countries at a time when there was a lot of fighting in the world.� His idea was simple.� To have the athletes all march out in unison at the closing ceremony as a sign of peace and unity.� Ever since this has became an Olympic tradition. Chris buys another packet of cigarettes, we say goodbye to the Sydney locals and walk out into the Bucharest night.� Taxi cabs are lined up like soldiers, all ready to take us to our required destination, but none of them are yellow so we decide to walk. We meet a herd of Aiesecers at Highlanders.� I kiss each and every girl on the cheek and then settle into a conversation with Mihail.� He tells me he doesn't like the way I depict Romanian youth as hopeless in my journal.� I agree, I don�t like it either, but in my eyes it is true.� He disagrees and tells me that there is a spirit of "we can make a difference" amongst the youth, and that his will be highlighted by the turnout in the election. Election Update:� I cannot believe that 1 in 2 Romanians is not responsible enough to vote and more than 1 in 4 is a xenophobe, violent, and hates everybody starting with Hungarians and ending with Jews. The remaining vote with a party that has lost the biggest opportunities Romania had in the 90s and with a man who was in the highest ranks of the communist regim that decimated our country.� My conclusion is that Romania is not ready for capitalism, for EU integration, or for being a free nation.� Eduard Fabian. Headline from the Daily Telegraph The conversation gets a little too heated.� I move to the bar and attempt to order a whisky in Romanian.� The barmaid laughs at me and replies in English. Pulp. Cezar joins me at the bar, and takes the opportunity to find our how things are going.� Sanela and Raluca invite me to Planters.� During the summer they took me to the seaside.� We had no place to stay so we danced all night and slept on the beach the next morning. Pulp. I unlock the door to the building and a stray dog runs inside with me.� There is no possible way I can entice him to leave the warmth of the lobby for the cold streets of the Bucharest night.� I know it is wrong but I leave and take the elevator to the sixth floor. Pet Shop Boys. Eight hours later I awake from my slumber and stumble to the bathroom.� I stare at the mirror in disbelief.� Around my neck is the red scarf of the communist youth. |
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