Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences Part One
Aidan Benbow
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences
Introduction
Ben was on a journey that he would never forget. He'd heard about the country of Romania for sure. Unfortunately, a lot of it was negative, connected to Communism and all of its consequences. And then, of course, there was football. Without football, Ben's knowledge of the world would have been poorer. But as it was, he was well clued up on geography having watched matches from all sorts of places. Bucharest was one of them. He had vague recollections of Rapid Bucharest, whose players, fortunately, weren't so rapid as to give West Ham the run-around. And then, there was the World Cup. Ben was old enough to remember redshirted players giving some Columbians a few problems. Lăcătuș was one of them if Ben wasn't very much mistaken. A funny name if ever there was one, Ben had thought at the time. Ireland had put pay to their progress in the end, though. Next, there was the World cup in the USA. This was a golden time for the Romanians' golden generation. There had been a aw though. They'd allowed some players into the team whose surname didn't end in -escu, which had obviously disrupted team unity and led to their quarter nal exit. I mean look at Bulgaria, hardly anyone whose name didn't end in -ov ever got into the team and they made it to the semi- nal and, by Ben's reckoning, really deserved to be in the nal, which they could have won. They even beat Germany on the way.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences
Such football reminiscences could have gone on for a long time if it were not for a sudden jolt. This woke Ben out of his deep football-related meditation. It was probably a good job too, as he was getting close to ’98 and 2000 in his thoughts, not happy years for English football fans as far as Romania is concerned. The jolt was from the train coming to a stop in the middle of nowhere. Well at least to Ben it seemed like nowhere. The train spent many a minute standing still for apparently no reason and with no announcement to illuminate the passengers as to what was going on. Gradually, Ben was to learn that this was not an uncommon occurrence, but no problem, Ben was from Britain after all. And maybe it was better to not know that you are waiting because there are the wrong type of leaves on the line. While he was waiting, it gave Ben a chance to re ect on his surroundings. The train looked like it had seen better days. Ramshackle was a word that came to mind. Sadly, the same could be said of many of the passengers. Old people who looked like they'd had hard lives and young people who looked like they were having hard lives. The man sitting beside Ben was typically plump and middle-aged with not so designer stubble and an ominouslooking bottle by his side, the size of a large coke bottle, but brown and three-quarters empty. There were also beggars. One little child had a sign with her, 'Mor de Foame'. With the help of his bi-lingual dictionary, Ben had worked out that this meant starving. He'd compassionately given her his last cheese sandwich, although she obviously wasn't quite that hungry and instead of scof ng it down, had put it in her pocket saying 'mersi’. Well, Ben thought it was quite a merciful act, although he would have been happier if she'd eaten it 'cos he had slaved ages to make those sandwiches and now he too was quite hungry.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
The Journey As the train chugged along, Ben found it increasingly hard to stay in the little compartment that he was cooped up in. In this sense, the train seemed kind of old-style. Rather than a big, spacious salon type wagon full of seats, these Romania trains were compartmentalised. Ben reckoned that eight people could t in his compartment that of course depending on their personal dimensions as it were. His compartment was only half full, but that still meant spending an uncomfortably long period of time crammed together with complete strangers. Ben had thought that maybe he should initiate some meaningful conversation, but due to the fact that those with him were not uent in the same languages as he, it had proved dif cult. In order to get some respite from this incommodity, he had decided to leave the compartment and stand in the hallway that ran along the side of the compartments, starring out of the window. He was slightly concerned for the safety of his things that were stuffed into a modern style suitcase and a couple of industrial-strength carrier bags, not to mention his go everywhere rucksack that contained his laptop, but there weren’t many items of value. Even the laptop was not by any means the newest or best-performing type around (you could easily get some odd jobs done, while windows was loading up), so probably nothing too much to worry about and in any case it was unlikely that anybody could slip anything out without others noticing, so, unless the whole compartment was to hatch a plan, he thought it highly likely that everything would be just ne, in spite of the worry that was niggling him.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
As he peered through the window, he was enthralled by the scenery that laid itself out before him as the train sped along; luscious meadows, sown with all sorts of intriguing crops; elds populated by cows, sheep and even goats; different villages, many of which illustrated the word ramshackle that he had meditated on earlier, but nevertheless gave an air of simple, communal living; and hills and other contours that built up to areas of extraordinary mountain beauty. Some of the mountains that they passed as the train rumbled on to its destination were simply breathtaking. The windows of the train were large and closed except for a small panel running along the top that could be tilted open. This added an extra dimension to the viewing experience as cold air rushed in and swept over Ben with a refreshing blast. At one point, while Ben was submerged in this viewing experience, he felt a tap on his shoulder. Turning to see what it was about, an older lady, face worn from the stresses of many years, but adorned with a headscarf which offered dignity and a sense of humility, stood there. 'Să aveți grijă să nu te curentezi!' she said. Ben stared at her. His Romanian lesson hadn’t gone quite that far, and he had no idea what she was saying. 'Să aveți grijă să nu te curentezi!’ she repeated as if, maybe, Ben hadn’t quite caught what she was saying and needed to hear it once more. That, however, wasn’t the problem. ‘Eu nu…’ Ben spluttered then stopped. Now, what was the rest of that phrase he had painstakingly learnt? he thought to himself. Actually, there were two good phrases for moments like these and it was time to pluck one of them out of the bag. How else would he learn Romanian? He re ected for a moment as the old lady looked at him, thinking about repeating her words for the third time, but then realising something was up. Ben, on the other hand, was re ecting on whether to say that he didn’t understand or that he didn’t speak Romanian. A third option would be to ask the lady if she spoke English, but he felt that that was unlikely. He decided to go for the one about not speaking Romanian.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
'Eu nu vorbesc limba Romana', he said triumphantly, but with a stutter. The lady looked a while at him and then replied with a smirk on her face, 'Pai nici eu nu vorbesc limba Romana, puiule, eu vorbesc limba română!'. The discussion was going beyond Ben’s head. Nevertheless, he could tell that he hadn’t quite said something right. He started racking his brains to try to think how to ask the lady to repeat what she had just uttered. ‘Repeate vouz’ came to mind, but that sounded like something an English tourist would say, so he thought some more. Fortunately, he had studied diligently his book of ten basic Romanian lessons from his local library and after a while, it came to him, ‘din nou’. He broke the uncomfortable silence by saying to the lady, 'din nou'. She looked at him, seemingly smirking yet again, 'Bine, puișor, limba română se spune, nu limba romana'. Aha, this time it clicked. There were different types of vowel sounds in Romanian due to accents that you put on them. In particular, 'a' can be soft or hard. He obviously hadn’t quite mastered that lesson yet. He felt like he could give it another go. 'Eu nu vorbesc limba Romănă' 'Aproape, dulceața, dar o să te inveți!' were her nal words before turning and leaving to return to her compartment, obviously feeling that that was enough language teaching for one day. Ben also decided it was the moment to go back to his seat and have a sitdown, language learning was tiring after all. Little did he know, that in more ways than one, this was going to be a theme over the foreseeable future.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 2
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
The Arrival On the train ticket, it said ‘accelerat'. But this train was anything but accelerated. It seemed to Ben like he had been on it for an age. As it chugged along, he re ected on what lay before. His trip to Romania wasn't so much about escaping elsewhere, but it was about nding himself and seeking meaning in life. Eventually, he arrived at the station and with some dif culty got off the train, lugging with him what was surely too much luggage. He felt the need for the loo as the toilet facilities on the train had been less than appealing. When he saw the facilities at the train station, he decided that he could wait to get to the room that he was staying in. The station was large, and bustling with people, but it wasn't hard to nd his way through and exit. As he left the building through what seemed like the main exit, a man pounced on him, ‘Taxi?’ he asked hopefully. Well, at least this was an international word that needed no translation and was indeed very opportune, as it was exactly what he needed. Ben whipped out a piece of paper on which he had written the address of where he was staying. He'd found it through the friend of a friend's cousin as it were and the fact that he had easily found somewhere to stay was actually one of the things that had convinced him that it was the right thing to do to come and visit Romania. He looked at the paper and it said:
Strada Pădureni 41/7B/2/4/28 , Crângași Ben looked up at the taxi driver and announced that he wanted to go to 'Crangasi'. The taxi driver stared at him, 'Unde vrei?'
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
Ben didn’t need to understand much Romanian to realise that the driver hadn’t understood his pronunciation, but this was an easily resolvable situation. Ben thrust the piece of paper in the driver’s direction. The driver peered down at and instantly realized where Ben wanted to go. This was the power of the written word. 'Am ințeles', said the driver. 'Hai să mergem!'. Then he beckoned towards a yellow car that Ben thought wouldn’t have been out of place in New York. He didn’t quite catch what the driver said, but the intention was obvious and so Ben, trustingly, followed on. After they got into the taxi, the driver seemed to have something to do. He ddled around with his shortwave radio and said to the person on the other end, 'Sunt ocupat cu un străin'. Then, he pressed some buttons on the taxi’s meter and they were off. Probably just usual procedure, thought Ben. They drove around various streets for what seemed like a long time. As they went, Ben stared at the drab high-rise blocks of ats that dominated the skyline everywhere. In one sense, he thought to himself, very practical and quite an architectural feat, but on the other hand, they all looked like they had seen better days and were approaching a ramshackled state. He could understand why many would rather risk seeking their fortune elsewhere than stay in one of these moss-covered buildings. Eventually, the taxi driver pulled over and signalled to Ben that he wanted to see the piece of paper again. 'Unde ar
asta', mumbled the driver to himself after checking the address.
They then spent the next 20 minutes exploring various side roads. It was quite a good way to get to know the little residential area, but not quite what Ben was up for at that precise moment. Finally, after the driver had asked numerous locals, he said, 'Aici. Am ajuns!'
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
Ben recognised the word ‘aici’ from his Romanian lessons, and even if he hadn’t, it wasn’t hard to see what the driver was referring to. It meant here and so they were there (or here as it were from the driver’s perspective). One thing Ben had de nitely learnt how to say was ‘Cât costa?’ – How much does it cost? This was a key phrase in any language. He decided that now was the moment to give it ago. 'Cat costa?', he asked, not sure if he pronounced it right, but, in any case, the driver de nitely understood that one. '5 million', the driver nonchalantly replied. Ben suddenly realised that he had forgotten to check the exchange rate. That being said, 5 million sounded a lot in any man’s money. The driver, seeing Ben’s perplexed look, turned to one side realising his mistake, composed himself and then turned backing saying, 'Ma scuzați, am în vedere 500 RON'. Now, that made more sense to Ben. He knew that RON was the currency of Romania and he had learnt his numbers well. Cinci Sute – Five hundred. Ben got out his wallet to pay but then had another sinking feeling. In the haste of being pounced upon by the taxi driver at the train station, he had overlooked the need to change his money into Romanian money. What to do? 'Euro?', he blurted out, as it was linguistically challenging to try to explain the situation and Euro was probably another one of those international words. 'Sigur,' said the driver. '100 euro'. This was a currency that Ben roughly knew. One hundred seemed quite a lot, but the man had been helpful and patient and had driven all around to the nd the right address. Anyway, Ben wasn’t in a position to negotiate, so he just paid up. Slightly painful, but that’s just the way it goes, he mused.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminiscences 3
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
A New Abode Ben lugged his luggage from the taxi onto the pavement before the entrance to the block of ats that was from now on to be his new temporary abode. He turned and yelled to the cab driver, ‘Multumesc! See you later.’ Then, he turned back to survey what lay before him. He re ected on the fact that he was nally here to sit on his throne as the prince of....well, Crângași! He had waited and speculated much time about what it would be like to spend some time in this most mysterious, but intriguing of places. The moment had arrived to nd out. He moved with some dif culty, due to the weight of his baggage, to the entrance of the building before him. The instructions that he had received beforehand from his host were to type 0 followed by the at number into the ‘domafon' (he gured this must be some sort of device at the entrance of the ats to use to contact the residents of a particular at and alert them to your presence waiting to be let in to enter the building and, as he was about to nd out, it was) and then nally to press ‘c'. As he approached the entrance, he saw that his passage into the building was blocked by an industrial-strength metal door. It was foreboding and Ben thought suf cient to warn off intruders, at least any English ones. To the left hand side, he spied what he thought must have been the ‘domafon'. He followed the given instructions typing 0-28-c and waiting. The ‘domafon' started ringing. He had seen such devices before, although usually with a simple button to press for each address. This was a more general style for high rise blocks of ats. He wasn't used to such devices, but how hard could it be? After a number of rings, a voice responded, ‘Cine?’. Even if he hadn't understood the Romanian, which incidentally in this case he did, it was obvious from context what was being said. ‘Sunt eu, Ben din Anglia’, was his well-rehearsed response. ‘Cine?’, said the voice once more.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
‘Ben din Anglia'. ‘Cine? Nu înțeleg. Vorbești mai tare’. Ben felt a wave of disappointment come over him as he realised that his Romanian obviously wasn't cracked up to be what he thought it was. ‘Stii, Eu sunt din Anglia. Eu vine in vizit. Eu am vorbit stai la voi,’ he said mustering all his Romanian speaking prowess. This was followed by a silent pause. Either the person on the other end was overwhelmed by his Romania speaking abilities or he had said something wrong. He was getting worried, but after a while, he heard the door buzz. He hesitated, wondering what this meant, but then suddenly it dawned on him this must be the moment to enter. He hurried forward but was hindered by his luggage. Just as he put his hand on the door handle the buzzing stopped. Hopefully, he tried to yank the door open, but to no avail. It remained rmly shut. So, conquering said metal door was evidently going to be more challenging than he had initially thought. He stood for a while contemplating what to do. He didn't fancy another ‘domafon' conversion, but how else was he going to get in? He spent a moment composing himself before typing the number into the ‘domafon' when all of a sudden a burst of inspiration hit him. He could just wait for someone to come out of the building and when the person opens the door he could burst in like Mr Bean when he was stuck in a car park without a ticket for the barrier blocking his exit.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Ben took up his position, and waited for his moment to pounce like a lion hidden in the undergrowth waiting for an unexpecting bison to pass by. Sure enough, he didn’t have to wait long before he heard a click and the door began opening. Ben startled forward in an attempt to gatecrash the opening door. However, his English pleasantries overtook him and he hesitated in his approach towards the door. He wasn't accustomed to barging over others. This allowed the victim to advance her exit through the door and suddenly it was too late. The middle aged lady who was coming out already had her foot through the door and there was no stopping her now. Ben did the gentlemanly thing and stepped to one side to allow her to pass. Stealthily though, and quite inspirationally he thought, he looked at her con dently as if he knew what he was doing and as she passed by he whipped out his hand and caught the handle of the door before it began to close. He was thus able to manoeuvre himself and his things in through the door, allowing it to close behind him. He was in! In a foreign land, even simple tasks like entering buildings can be a challenge, he thought riley to himself. He moved forward into the building with some trepidation. It looked just as foreboding as the doorway. An old-communist affair with worn stone steps and a plethora of dull, creaking metal boxes with aps, strewn across the wall to the right of the entrance, which Ben assumed were to save the postman from having to penetrate too deeply into the building. He himself wasn't too keen on penetrating further, but he had no choice. After lugging his things up the rst few welcome steps he stopped by the lift. A small mercy that there was a lift, however it turned out to be by far the most foreboding aspect of all. Nothing at all about the lift conveyed reassurance. The doors were old and creaky. The button to call the lift looked like it was a remnant from Star Trek (the original series). When he pressed the down button a whirring sound began that wouldn't have been out of place in an old James Bond lm as the archvillian prepares to reveal to Bond his latest weapon to destroy the world.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Eventually, the lift arrived and it's doors pinged open, inviting Ben to enter. Reluctantly, Ben did so dragging his bags with him. On the door it said the lift could take ‘6 Persoane' and judging by the people Ben had seen around and about as his taxi brought him to this address, malnutrition wasn't a common problem in this place. Thus, Ben himself being only half the size of many of the people he had seen, gured that even with his luggage he was only putting the equivalent wait into the lift of maybe one and a bit or at most two people. As the doors of the lift closed behind him, Ben surveyed the lift's oor. He began to wonder if, when it said 6 people that was taking into consideration the fact that the its oor was partially dislodged and hanging freely, so much so that you could see through the gap into empty space. Surely, this would reduce the safe weight capacity? Summing up all his courage though, Ben took a deep breath and reached out to press button 4, his oor number. The lift mechanism whirred once more into action and the lift started moving upwards. Now, there was no turning back.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romania Reminescences 4
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
Interacting with the Natives After what seemed like an age, the lift jerked to a halt and the doors slide, or maybe more accurately said, jittered open. Ben was relieved to bumble his way out of the lift, dragging his luggage with him as best he could. He had spent most of the upward journey contemplating the best way to hang if the lift’s oor gave way. Now, though, his feet were on rm ground again and he could relax, for a few seconds at least, before he confronted the next challenge that lay ahead. Said challenge began with the dif cult of working out which was the right at. His little piece of paper had 28 written on it, or at least this was the last number in the address, and by a complicated process of deduction Ben had reached the conclusion that the other numbers in the address represented different aspects of the at’s location, such as apartment block, entrance and oor number. It was a far cry from 38 Park Avenue, the simple and straightforward address that he had grown up in. Postcodes and semidetached housing made homes much easier to nd, he thought to himself. Looking around, Ben had four options set before him. Four doors, none of which had anything vaguely looking like a clue to the number of the at, to which they barred the entrance, adorning them. How were you supposed to know which was which? Re ecting upon the dif culties of getting this far into the building, it occurred to Ben that maybe the uninitiated didn’t usually make it to this point and so there wasn’t any need for the inhabitants of each at to make it clear which was theirs. Alternatively, maybe adding a number to your door was seen as an unnecessary expense or just culturally not the thing to do. Whatever the reason for the lack of door markings, Ben was now in a predicament and going to have to use all his deductive powers to avoid an embarrassing situation.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
Of the four options, two of the doors looked decidedly old, probably as they were when communism fell. Ben hoped that the at that he was staying in wasn’t one of these. He decided to take both of these ats out of the running, not just because of wishful thinking, but as far as he was aware, the family he had been in touch with had promised European standard accommodation. Whatever that might be, thought Ben, it probably didn’t include a communist-style door. Thus, he had whittled it down to two options; two doors both of which looked like they wouldn’t have been out of place guarding the entrance to any safety conscientious European's dwelling place. But which one to choose? Here, he had no clues, except instinct. He contemplated doing an ip-dip-sky-blue, but decided it was of no consequence. Pick one and go for it was as good an option as any. With regard to other decisions, he generally found himself hesitating beyond what was healthy, but in this situation, what was the worst that could happen? An irate neighbour, who anyway he wouldn’t have to see all that often? Who knows, he might even make a new friend. So after a deep breath, he reached out his slightly shaking nger and pressed the bell of one of the ats before him. The bell squalled like an ailing bird. An odd sound, but no doubt effective for attracting the attention of the at’s inhabitants, if not the inhabitants of the surrounding ats too, Ben mused. He waited a few seconds, nervously anticipating a response. A few moments passed by and then he could hear shuf ing sounds from beyond the door. It sounded like someone was preparing to open it. Would they, though, be friend or foe? Something clicked and the door began to give way to what lay on the other side. Ben was struck instantly by a warmth, but also the odour of food cooking. Then in front of him stood the gure of an old-ish Romanian looking lady with a man behind her. 'Bună Ziua! V-am așteptat', she said. 'Buna Ziua!' replied Ben, glad that his Romanian stretched this far at least.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
'Haideți să intrați!' beckoned the lady to him. It wasn’t hard from her gesticulations to work out what she was suggesting and so Ben clumsily bundled himself and his belongings into the at.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
First Impressions Once inside the at, Ben was pleasantly surprised. The outside of the block of ats looked like it had seen happier days. The stairwell inside also looked decidedly worse for wear. As far as the lift was concerned the less said the better. However, the at itself, which Ben had just entered, told a different story. It was almost strangely out of place as if Ben had stepped into a different world. The aforementioned door was not by any means the sprucing up of an otherwise decaying at as one might have feared. Indeed, it was merely a sign of what lay beyond. The hallway of the at had a shinny, laminated oor. Ben thought back to the kitchen in the house he had grown up in. It had had a dull, linoleum oor covering; a sort of poor man’s version of what Ben now found himself standing upon. Ben almost felt guilty that his dirty shoes and assorted baggage were ordaining to sully what was obviously a highquality oor material. The feeling of niceness was augmented by the walls of the hallway, which were lined with a rough, speckled wallpaper, mimicking a granite-like nish and, in spite of its lack of authenticity, still exuding an air of grandeur. The ceiling was painted a clean white colour, which emanated freshness. Ben was blocked in the hall by the older couple who had opened the door, unfortunate because he desperately needed the loo, which he hoped wouldn't be a hole in the ground, but nevertheless he could see further into the at, particularly through the door to the kitchen, which lay on his right and the ajar door to what he supposed was the living room, which lay directly in front of him at the end of the hallway. The little he could glimpse spoke of quality. The man and woman that stood before him were somewhere in their sixties speculated Ben. Both looked Romanian with ever so slightly darkened skin, tanned one might say. They were both a little rounded from what must have been a lifetime of eating well and perceptibly haggard from years of hard work. The lady looked at him and to Ben’s surprise began to say something that he understood.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
'You are speaking Romanian very bad!', she uttered with a stutter and a strongly rolled ‘r’. Ben decided against commenting on her English and chose to receive it as constructive criticism. As a result, a pause ensued. Breaking the silence the man asked, 'Cum vă numiți?'. Maybe Ben’s Romanian was bad, but at least he knew enough to able to handle small talk. 'Ma numesc Ben. Si Dumnevoastra, cum vă numiți?, replied Ben, straining to pronounce the words as close as possible to how he remembered them from the recordings on his computer. 'Florin', answered the man. 'Imi pare bine de cunostiința!' said Ben, thinking that surely knowing how to say that he was pleased to meet someone would make up for any earlier Romanian misdemeanours. He turned to the lady and addressed the same question. She looked at him brie y as if she was contemplating whether to accept him as a Romanian speaker or not. After a little consideration, she had obviously decided at least partially to do so and so replied, 'Ma cheama Doina. De unde sunteți?'. Changing the verb from ‘to name’ to ‘to call’ and adding a new question seemed like a tactic to test Ben’s Romanian prowess, but he was capably up to the challenge. 'Eu sunt din Marea Britanie. Și dumnevoastră?' Doina was slightly taken aback, evidently having misjudged Ben’s linguistic abilities. Nevertheless, not wanting to miss the opportunity to show off her own linguistic knowledge, she answered, 'I am from in Moldova.'
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Ben almost smirked at the thought of someone being ‘from in’ a country; It is fairly obvious that if you are from a country, you are also from somewhere in that country, so no real need to specify that information. However, Ben refrained as this was de nitely not a good moment to be impolite, even in spite of the earlier bravado from his hostess. Ben was so caught up in linguistic considerations that he completely missed the mention of Moldova, somewhere that was later to become very signi cant to him. 'Ți-e foame?', Doina asked, switching back to Romanian to avoid the possibility of misunderstanding or making a mistake. Ben looked at her contemplating the possible meanings of this new phrase. The uncertainty was quickly cleared up, as the Doina started to rub her tummy. This was universal language. 'Da', replied Ben, not knowing what he was letting himself in for. 'Bine. Ia loc la camera de zi și asteptați putin'. Ben was ushered by Florin into the at’s living room (although he managed to negotiate a quick trip to the loo as they passed - it didnțt disappoint), which, as anticipated, was a lovely looking room. Ben plonked himself down on one of the arm chairs, an action caused by the inherent tiredness resulting from a long journey coupled with meeting a new culture head-on. He felt like maybe he was making himself too much at home, although the air of the couple he had just met was welcoming, if a little blunt, and encouraged such an attitude. He had tried his best to communicate with them using the polite forms in Romanian, something that took quite a bit of concentration as he wasn't used to doing this in English, but he noticed that they were uttering between the two as they communicated with him. Obviously, they were older and had the right to speak informally with him if they wanted, but they also seemed a not very used to communicating with foreigners, which also made for an unclearity concerning politeness.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
The living room itself was dominated by a tted cupboard (if that was the right word for it) that stretched all across one wall. At either end, there were double doors concealing two large end storage spaces. Between them was a long sideboard with draws below and shelves above. The shelves were strewn with what looked like family photos and upon the sideboard was seated an extravagant looking plasma television, which belied Romania’s status as a supposedly less well-developed country. What was in the draws below the end cupboards, Ben could only speculate. As well as the comfy armchair that Ben was seated in, there was another such armchair and a three-seater settee, all of high quality. Florin sat himself down in the other armchair and appeared to be preparing for conversation. 'Stiți Românești?', he began. 'Da, stiu puțin', answered Ben boldly, with a manner that suggested he knew more than the little that he actually knew. 'Sunteți din Anglia?' 'Da, sunt.' So far so good, but Ben was not ready for the storm that was about to be unleashed. 'Fiul meu lucreaza in Anglia. Aceasta este apartementul lui. Am înțeles ca Anglia e o țara foarte civilizata și oameni sunt cum se cade. M-a invitat să merg în vizita acolo. Nu prea vreau că odată am avut o experiența neplăcut când zboram cu avionul și acum mie este frică, dar se vedem, cine stie......'
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Florin obviously didn’t get to do much talking and wanted to seize the opportunity to let off some steam. Judging by their meeting in the hallway, it was Doina who did most of the talking in this couple. As Florin talked along, Ben had no idea what he was saying, but he decided that it didn’t really matter. It was just good for Florin to get everything off his chest and so what if the person he was unloading to, didn’t have a clue what he was talking about? For Florin’s sake more than his own, Ben strategically threw in some 'da’s', nods and uh-huhs at what seemed suitable junctures in Florin’s discourse. Florin seemed satis ed that his utterings were being well received and so continued. This state of affairs must have carried on for about 20 minutes until the moment of truth nally arrived. Florin suddenly paused and looked at Ben waiting for something. Ben, who by this stage wasn’t even concentrating on what was being said, realised that something was required of him, but he didn’t know what. 'Deci, care este pensie în Marea Britanie?' said Florin, evidently trying to solicit a response from Ben. Ben now found himself in a tricky spot. He had no idea what Florin had been talking about, even though the conversation had been going on for quite a while. He realised that a question had been asked, but he didnțt know what it was, let alone how to answer it. As Ben was debating in his mind what to do, a voice rang out from the kitchen. 'Mâncare e gata! Veniți la masă!'. At this sound, Florin all of a sudden seemed to forget about his awkward question and got to his feet. 'Haideți la bucătarie!' he said, motioning towards the exit of the room. Phew thought Ben. Saved by the bell.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
A meal to Remember Ben entered the kitchen with various different thoughts going through his mind as he anticipated what might be on offer. He’d heard stories of people going off to far- ung lands and eating all sorts of wild and wonderful fair, such as grasshoppers, spiders, snakes and so on. He himself had once been to a Japanese Church fete and tried octopuses’ head, probably made more palatable by the batter around it, but nevertheless a bit of a culinary walk on the wild side, so he was fairly con dent that he could handle even the most daring of Romanian dishes. The kitchen was rather small, but there was enough space for him, Florin and Doina at the little table in its corner. The table already had plates and forks laid on it, not to mention some serviettes, a bread basket with chunky, freshly sliced bread in it and a couple of side dishes that Ben didn’t recognise. One was a saucer-sized plate with little white slices of what looked like the fatty part of bacon that people back home didn’t usually eat, although these slices were much thicker. If they were indeed from bacon, thought Ben, that must be one heck of a slice of bacon! The other strange delight was in a small bowl with a teaspoon in it. It was a reddy substance that appeared to be some vegetables mashed up and was presumably for spreading on the bread. As Ben surveyed these things, Doina took a silver coloured pot that was extremely well rounded off the stove and emptied its contents into a large white ceramic container, which she then plonked on the table before Ben. This was obviously the main course. Looking at its quantity made Ben wonder how many more people were coming round to eat. Steam was still coming off of the food, which Ben recognised as clearly being a rice dish. Ben loved a good curry, although he found the glistening of the copious amounts of grease in the rice disconcerting. Something gave him the feeling that this wasn’t going to be quite like the rice dishes he was used to from his local Indian takeaway.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Ben managed to ascertain that the name of the rice dish was in fact ‘Pilaf’. At least, this is a word that he heard both Florin and Doina refer to it by, so unless they were making some sort of derogatory comments, this must be its name, he concluded. Doina produced a large spoon and used it to put a healthy portion of the ‘Pilaf’ on Ben’s plate. He would have been quite looking forward to it if it wasn’t for the grease that was oozing out. At least, he could spy some chicken chunks and carrots mixed into it, which he thought would be the saving grace. ‘Nu te rușina. Simte-te ca acasă!', were Doina’s encouraging words for Ben. Or at least they would have been encouraging if he had understood them. Also, they conveyed a hidden message that she had now already started to become familiar with Ben, switching to using the more informal pronouns full time as opposed to the more formal ones that she’d felt necessary to include in the beginning. The meal went well. Ben did his best to try and drain off a little of the grease from the ‘Pilaf’ using his fork. It didn’t work so well, so in the end he just went with the ow as he was so hungry and ate it. He also very much enjoyed the red stuff on bread. If he wasn’t very much mistaken they were using the word ‘Zacusca’ for it, so that’s how he would name it too. There was a tricky moment though. Florin seemed to be a great advocate of the white stuff that resembled bacon fat. Ben surmised that this wasn’t going to be his cup of tea and after one mouthful, he realised it certainly wasn’t. Florin seemed determined to get Ben to eat as much of it as possible, and was waxing lyrical, presumably about its qualities, 'Slănină a fost mâncarea care a ajutat strămoșii noștri să construieasca România!'. Sometimes it was good to not understand.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Ben had started out hungry, but as the meal progressed, he could start to feel his stomach ll. A few times Doina had reproached him, 'De ce nu mânanci?' Ben didn’t need to be too well versed in the Romanian language to realise that she was asking why he wasn’t eating more. Indeed, ‘Mâncare’ and the related verb ‘a mânca’, ‘food’ and ‘to eat’ were two of the rst words he learnt. It was good to know about food vocabulary so you wouldn't go hungry. This was Ben's strategy at least. Anyway, back to the question, he thought it would have been obvious why he wasn’t eating more as he had already lined his stomach with plenty of ‘Pilaf’, not to mention a number of slices of bread with ‘Zacusca’ on it, but Doina appeared to have other ideas about what constituted a good meal. 'Nu, mulțumesc', was a phrase that fortunately Ben knew, but he was struggling to say it assertively enough. He was evidently going to need more than a few ‘No, thank yous’ to get himself out of this situation. He managed to force down a few more forkfuls of ‘Pilaf’, not to mention a couple more slices of bread with ‘Zacusca’. He even contemplated another slice of the white stuff, but he did his best to resist that particular option. He was starting to understand why he had seen a number of decidedly rotund people from his taxi as he had travelled to this, his new temporary home. Ben was starting to get worried as Doina wasn’t letting up on the ‘have some more’ policy that she was intent on pursuing. He was unsure how much he could put into his stomach without it having dire consequences later on. Fortunately, once again, as if someone was watching over him, at just the right moment, the front door of the at swung open and in walked someone new, who distracted Florin and Doina’s attention from the food, that they were otherwise so concerned about.
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Moldovan Meanderings: Romanian Reminiscences 7
Romamia Reminisceinces This is just my little contribution world literature. It's a story constructed f rom my experiences in Romania. The people and events are embellishments of reality. Feel f ree to suggest any comments or corrections here as well as nding out more about my ministry in Moldova.
