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Common People |
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The Aiesecers in Bucharest are much like the Aiesecers in Adelaide, and from what
I gather the same goes for the rest of the world.� They�re aliens.�
(Sorry guys, but it�s true).� To the uneducated eye they look quite normal,
but as you study these creatures more closely you soon notice the subtle differences
in their genetic makeup.� To help you identify an alien encounter
I have formed the following Aiesec Alien checklist. 1. They�re late, 2. They�re too generous to be human, 3. They�re too optimistic to be human, 4. They�re too enthusiastic to be human, 5. They never travel alone, always in the herd, 6. They take you and the herd to the pub for a beer, 7. The table you are sitting at begins conversing in about 6 foreign languages (Native Aiesec is a strange combination of English and Acronyms), 8. Someone at the table you are sitting at will burp, everyone will put their hands on their heads in a peculiar fashion, and you�ll get hit across the back of your skull before you know what has happened. 9. During mating season they have strange ritual dances that resemble something that you may have been taught in kindergarten.� (Aiesecers only mate with other Aiesecers in an attempt to produce a Super Aiesec Alien, capable of achieving their mission of world domination.� Despite what you may have seen on the X-files, an Alien-human hybrid is a weaker species and are probably destroyed at birth.) 10. Zoom:� Participating in this ritual is to be treated with extreme caution.� Although the rules may seem simple enough the Aiesec Alien�s superior reflexes and years of experience will inevitably result in your defeat.� Unless you enjoy the idea of laying unconscious in a pool of your own vomit, it is better to enter this ritual well after it has begun. 11. Bozo:� I have nightmares about this one.� After the Aiesec Alien has achieved world domination, I dream of a United Nation�s meeting.� The delegates will be discussing the pressing issues somewhere in the Middle East when all of a sudden they begin clapping their hands, slapping their knees and yelling BOZO to multiples of 5 and 7. 12. Role Call:� An unexplainable phenomenon. I want to do whatever common people do. The wealth discrepancies are extremely evident in Romania.� I have discussed business in Hotel�s where the Presidential Suite will cost upward of $1000 per night.� I have attended a business meeting in a Private Club where Chandeliers hang from the roof and the waiters where diner suits.� I have also played drinking games with a bottle of liquor worth less than a dollar, and listened to a guided tour of the Peles Castle in Romanian to avoid paying the foreigner fee.� Old men sweep the dirt away from the front of their store resembling a scene that I only though possible in Tuscany, as students walk passed in the latest Nike�s, speaking on their mobile phones. At every traffic light, train station, street corner and park, a beggar will ask you for money.� Some are crippled with a busted leg, or broken arm, others are horribly scared.� Most however are children, with a rehearsed speech prepared guaranteed to draw pity.� There are no laws protecting minors from the harsh realities of life in Romania.� Well, at least none that are upheld.� A 12-year-old can buy a packet of cigarettes, share a bottle of Vodka with her friends, and enter a crowded nightclub full of drunken middle-aged men.� As with the rest of Eastern Europe an explosion of porn has swept over the city.� Gambling is also in desperate need of regulation, so much so that the city has become known as the Las Vegas of Eastern Europe. You want to live like common people? You want to see whatever common people see? The Laundry Incident. Day 1. Two weeks of life in Bucharest had taken a toll on my clothes.� The complete absence of Laundromats left me with the following options: 1. Wash by hand.� (That�ll never happen.) 2. Buy a washing machine.� (A financial impossibility.) 3. Hire a maid.� (Same as above, but possibly a better investment.) 4. Take a trip to the dry cleaners.� (Snap!) Curious of what this was going to cost me I thought I would drop in on my way home from work and grab a price list.� �Buna Ziua (Hello), Vorbiti englezeste (Do you speak English)?�� �Nu (No).� The lady turned around went back to her cigarette and paid no more attention to me. Day 2. Not deterred I thought I would have more luck if I brought a local along for moral support.� Madalina quickly obtained a price list and we agreed that that it was quite reasonable. �Now Damien, are you sure you don�t want me to come with you when you drop you�re clothes off.� �No�, I replied.� Thinking of the simplicity of such a remedial task.� �I�ll just dump my clothes on the counter and do a lot of pointing.� I�ll be fine.� Day 3. I dumped my clothes on the counter.� The lady glared at me, and went on for a couple of minutes in that language I can�t yet understand.� �I don�t speak Romanian� I pleaded.� �I just want you to wash my clothes.�� She became more frustrated than I did.� Her voice rose and she began wailing her hands around in the air, pointing at imaginary objects.� The only words I understood were sase, sase, sase (six, six, six).� Did she think I was the devil?� I stood there dumbly until she had finished.� �Please just take my clothes� I begged.� The lady erupted.� She ripped a piece of paper from her notebook and began writing furiously.� When she had finished she slid it in front of me, turned around, went back to her table, and lit another cigarette. Day 4. Explaining the events to the guys at work Carmen offered to come with me to the address that I had been given.� Two buses and a short walk later we had arrived.� Carmen translated, �They don�t usually do socks and underwear.�� This situation was quickly overcome by the simple gesture of an extra 10,000 Lei ($1). Afterwards Carmen, her fianc� Daniel and I all went out for beer.� Carmen has an extremely optimistic personality.� When I commented about it she replied, �I have my grandparents, my mother, and Daniel.� I always try to smile, there are many people worse off than me.� Daniel has an exceptional grasp of Romanian history.� We talked about the events leading up till the 2nd World War in a conversation that was translated by Carmen, due to our inability�s to speak the same language.� Daniel asked what second languages were offered in Australian schools.� I informed him that the Asian languages were quite popular due to our location in the region and the proportion of citizens in Australian cities with an Asian background.� Daniel was surprised, and remarked.� �Soon there will be more Asian�s than Australians� living there.� You�ll be overrun.�� I should have known better, but I asked anyway.� �They�re still Australian, what does it matter where you�re origins lie?��� Carmen didn�t translate for me.� She answered on Daniel�s behalf.� �I think this is just the way he feels.� Later that night, intrigued by my liberal views, Daniel informed me that homosexuality in Romania was legalised only last week.� Astonishing for a nation that listens to excessive amounts of Madonna, Ricky Martin, and Savage Garden.� Daniel than commented that in regards to these issues Romania was 50 years behind the West.� I understood but when Carmen translated she changed it to 100. You�ll never do whatever common people do. This weekend I went clubbing with Madalina and her friends.� Salsa is a Latino club and for the first time since I arrived I realised how large the Latin influence is on the Romanian people.� The women wore shirt skirts, with long hair, think Jennifer Lopez.� The men were incredibly buff with tight white shirts and all though they were Ricky Martin.� Never have I been in a club where so many people could actually dance.� And dance well.� I was definitely the odd one out, living up the great Aussie stereotype, leaning against the bar with beer in hand. Before we moved on Madalina warned me, �The next club isn�t like this.� It�s more of a house, that�s has been converted into a club.�� Cool. My first taste of the Bucharest underground.� After getting out of the taxi we were greeted by a Congan friend of Madalina�s.� �This place, its cool man, just do whatever, it�s a ghetto club.�� At first I felt a little awkward, I had left my 2Pac shirt at home.� But quickly I began to feel comfortable.� Unlike Salsa this club was not sleazy, crowded or commercial.� It may have been a little seedy, but everyone there new each other, and were just friends out to dance, drink, and genuinely enjoy themselves. Sing along and it might just get you through. Last weekend I took a trip to the mountains with other trainees, some friends from work, and a herd of Aiesecers.� The scenery was spectacular but the never-ending rain dampened our spirits.� In a town like Sinaia, you get to see many locals trying to make a buck out of the tourists.� Wood carvings, basket weavings, postcards, and rugs.� However, I was disgusted to see a man charging tourists $2 a shot for a photograph of a bear on a chain.� If only the bear had the confidence to turn on his master and rip the shit out of him (and the American tourists supporting the practice), he would be doing humanity a favour. Peles Castle is by far the most beautiful building I have seen in Romania to date.� Built only 120 years it is a castle fit for a fairy tale, not a war.� Its� features included a tower that Rupunzel may have escaped from, and a Cinderella style ballroom.� Not at all like those in the UK that stir images of dungeons, dragons and knights in shining army.� Taking photographs inside the castle is of course forbidden.� However, the guides had no problem excepting our 10,000 Lei (75c) offering and took a few snaps of Andrei and I posing in the Great Hall. Watching roaches climb the wall, if you called your dad he could stop it all. Our part-time distribution manager and delivery guy Razvan, is also a Romanian Orthodox Priest.� His church, an hour out of the city, was being blessed by the bishop last week.� Giving ourselves a day off work a few of us decided to drive down and join in the celebrations.� The people of the Romanian villages ride post-war bicycles, only outdated by the pre-war models they ride in the Netherlands.� The farmers use horse and carts to transport their produce, one specific cart that we passed had improvised and installed a car shell on top to keep his family out of the rain.� The Church was small, and the locals were poor, but the turn out was impressive with a welcoming atmosphere.� We were invited to lunch at the local primary school, and I ate as much as I could of the salad and meat platter, unaware that this was only the starters, main course and dessert were still to come.� After lunch we took a ten-minute drive to the Danube, and looked across the border into Bulgaria. I want to live with common people like you. Pulp. |
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