| "Romanian traffic" |
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| Gol! |
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I miss you already,� I miss you always. This is how I feel. Pearl Jam. As I got off the plane I could feel the sweltering heat radiating off the dilapidated tarmac.� It felt more like Mexico than Romania.� Stressing about immigration was a complete waste of time.� No queues, no questions, just give the guy your passport, he stamps it, and you walk on.� In the arrivals bay a large group of 20 or more Aiesecers were waiting for me.� Their banner read: Andrei shook my hand and introduced himself.� �Damien, I have some good news and some bad news.� The good news is that you are in Romania and have arrived safely.� The bad news is that the traineeship is off.�� Of course, he was only joking. The streets of Bucharest are littered with rubbish, beggars, and the scars of communism.� Over half a million disease ridden, flea infested street dogs� prowl the streets.� They are not vicious, just pathetic creatures, weak from hunger, with sunken shoulders and in search of a loving home.� There are no defined residential and commercial zones in Bucharest.� Ground floor apartments have been converted into shops and offices, most not meeting western standards.� Every second billboard displays the face of a potential General Mayor.� Due to the many pressing issues the appointment of General Mayor is taken very seriously in Bucharest.� However you can sense a feeling that no matter whom is elected nothing much is going to change in a hurry. My apartment is in an architecturally stylish, but poorly maintained 1930�s building.� It is owned by a semi-famous Romanian actor Alexandru Bindea, and is on Kogalniceanu Boulevard, one of the main streets of Bucharest.� It is very small with a lounge/bedroom, bathroom/toilet and a kitchen that is no larger than the smallest closet you can imagine.� The prehistoric elevator has been built for two, and like the rest of the city no thought has been given to the disabled.� I have an X-file style peephole, and a small balcony that overlooks the law school and the park.� I walk across the park everyday on my way to work.� It is the oldest in the city and has inspired many Romanian poets.� Even though my apartment is in one of the best neighborhoods in the city, the hot water is not reliable and more than half of the apartments are vacant and in need of urgent repair. I was told that most Romanians smoke.� This is true.� You cannot see the other side of restaurants for the smoke and lighting one up in the middle of a business meeting is a norm.� I ask my colleague Bogdan if he had heard of lung cancer, but he didn�t believe the risk was high enough to worry about. Having withdrawals from my daily fix of world news I went to the Hilton (the only place that will sell them), to buy an English paper.� The Guardian, a B-grade British broadsheet cost me A$4.� I used to get the Australian delivered for that, 6 days a week.� Immediately after I went to the supermarket and bought a weeks worth of groceries for just over $10.� A loaf of bread can cost as little as 20c, cigarettes 50c, and a half a litre of beer between 50c and a dollar depending on the quality of the establishment. Romania defeated England in a penalty shootout to make it through to the Euro 2000 Quarters on Tuesday night.� I watched from my balcony till well past 1 as tens of thousands of football fans streamed down my street to gather in Piata Universitati and Piata Revoluti (University and Revolution Square).� This is where the Romanians congregate when something is happening in the city.� They gathered here in 94 when they made the World Cup Semi�s and in 89 as the Revolution began.� The fans below me sung �Romania, Romania, Romania� in unison, and used anything they could get their hands on in to make some noise.� Alarms, whistles, horns, flags, fires, and flares all added to the atmosphere.� People were hanging out of car windows like clowns at the circus, and energetic supporters would drape the Romanian flag around their shoulders and run down the street as if they were Superman.� I thought I could smell the pride of the nation in the air, or perhaps that was just the flare that went off below me.� This has no Australian equivalent. Last Friday night I saw a Romanian band Vama Veche (Old border crossing) play to a crowd of around 5 thousand in Piata Revolutiei (Revolution Square).� The lead singer looked suprisingly like Eddie Veddar and although I couldn�t understand the lyrics, I fell in love with atmosphere. This is why I�m here. I never cease to be surprised by the generosity of my new friends.� Although they have little monetary wealth they have supplied me with knives and forks, plates and cups.� They always offer to walk me home, and Andrei has even lent me his portable radio.� Last week Carmen and Madalina walked me home from the pub.� I was surprised to hear their comments about how nice my apartment was.� After showing them my photos off all the exotic places I have been in the world, I began to feel a tremendous amount of guilt. I am really so shallow to complain about the temperamental hot water when gypsies are living in cardboard boxes only 10 minutes away?� I receive more than my equivalently educated colleagues, yet their generosity far outstrips mine. Who am I? Blanche Dubois � A Streetcar Named Desire. Upon arriving in Bucharest, the city can present an overwhelming challenge to one's physical and mental health....� I viewed Bucharest as an exciting city with strange and exotic sights and sounds.� The image of gypsy carts and brand new mercedes automobiles, with Casa Poporului serving as a backdrop, made me realise I was no longer in Southern California.� What a fascinating place to work and live.� -� Bryan Jardine. |
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