Romania Reminiscences part two by Aidan Patrick Benbow

Moldovan Meanderings Romanian Reminiscences Part Two

Aidan Benbow

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 8

Reminiscences In through the door of the kitchen, walked a youngish man with spiked hair and slightly darkened skin. The spiked hair was obviously a nod to youthful exuberance whereas the dark skin was evidently a feature of people in this part of the world. Not dark like in the Middle East, but ever so slightly noticeable. Ben thought to himself that maybe this was Stefan, the person who he had been in touch with about staying in the at. 'Hello! I am Stefan,' said the man. Benâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s suspicions were quickly con rmed. 'Salut! Eu sunt Ben', said Ben, trying to impress with his Romanian. 'I am speaking English', replied Stefan. At rst, Ben thought to himself that this was a case of stating the obvious, but then he realised that Stefan had just got his tenses a bit muddled up. Ben had arranged everything through a middle man, a friend of a friend as it were, and so hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t actually talked to Stefan directly. 'How are you?' continued Stefan. It was reassuring to Ben to hear someone speaking his language and to think that he would be able to more easily clarify the things that he needed. 'I am ne. Just a bit tired after the journey. And you?', answered Ben, deciding against going for another foray into the Romanian language, particularly as Stefan seemed comfortable in English. 'I am good. I work in city in blana fabrik. I want I go bed now, stuttered Stefan; Ben began to think that maybe he had jumped the gun regarding Stefanâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s English abilities. 'Ok, well, have a good rest', said Ben comfortingly.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 8

'Yes, we see us maine and more talk', replied Stefan, before turning away to leave the kitchen. Perhaps Stefan had only been to the rst few English lessons thought Ben. He started well but quickly declined in his English. As Stefan started to head for the door, Doina called out behind him, “Dar, dragul Mamei, nu o să arați oaspetul nostru cameră lui și clari ci cu el despre bani și alte detaili?” Without even turning back, Stefan snorted a response, 'Sunt obosit. Lăsăm pe mâine. Nu are să fuga nicăeri. Arați tu cameră și baie'. 'Dar cum să ne înțelegm? El nu prea stie limba Română', protested Doina. 'Mama, nici tu nu prea stii cu accentul tau. Vă descurcați și oricum am înțeles ca el vrea să învața română. Hai ne vedem mâine.' With that, Stefan was gone. Ben hadn’t quite followed their discussion. One could describe it as friendly arguing; voices raised, but no blows and a harmonious ending. A little later, after Ben had been given good opportunity to practise his skills in refusing hospitality, Doina showed him the ropes as far as his living arrangements were concerned. The at was a bit like a rabbit warren, with a long l-shaped corridor that you entered into directly through the front door. Straight ahead was the living room, sharp left was the master bedroom, second left the spare bedroom, which Ben was to receive as his living quarters. At the end of the L-shape was another bedroom, which was inhabited by Stefan, and to the right were both the small kitchen and next to it, a toilet and mini-bathroom, complete with bathtub come shower and washbasin.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 8

Doina practised her charades skills as she tried to explain certain details to Ben about the living arrangements. Ben understood which was his room but didn’t quite get what he was supposed to do with towels or how to work the shower. It was of no real consequence though. He was just glad to have nally reached the destination that for such a long time he had dreamed about. That night, he lay in his bed re ecting on his past journey and new surroundings. The bed was more like a fold-out sofa, somewhat rmer than the usual springy affair that he was used to, but it was satisfactory. He would have liked a good wash after the ardours of his long journey, but it was hard to work out how to get the showerhead working that was xed to the tap in the bathtub. Instead, he had just crouched down in the tub and splashed some cold water on himself, as much as he could stand. That was all that owed out of the bath tap. He had been embarrassed to call out and try to get some help partly because he was undressed, but also because it had already been explained once, maybe, depending on what Doina had been saying. Anyhow, a little clean, is better than not clean at all, and Ben felt suf ciently refreshed to be able to relax in his bed and begin to let his thoughts drift away. He remembered the days of his youth when he’d had many plans about what he would do in life, but then he thought about how it had all gone awry. Nothing raucous or radical, simply he hadn’t really understood himself or what he had to do in life. For reasons that were now hard to fathom, he had launched himself into a scienti c career path, studying Biology, Chemistry, Maths (Physics he couldn’t stand!) and was thinking that he could develop as an academic at a good university; maybe even discover something new and become famous. As things had been going along though, he felt like something was not right. Surely, this was not him. He had found it hard to make friends at the university he had strived so hard to reach and upon which he had pinned so many hopes. His passion for science had quickly waned too with his loneliness and gradually everything had seemed so meaningless. In those days, he thought to himself that even if he managed a great and successful scienti c career, what did it matter? One day he would be gone and so everything he achieved would only be eeting and afterwards, he would be quickly forgotten.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 8

These thoughts had left him churning inside, seeking meaning and purpose in life. That’s when, after much time, he had met someone who had changed his life. There was a girl at his university called Alexandra. At a distance, he had known her for a good while as she was a fellow student on his course, but it was only during the end of his university days that he had come to actually interact with her and discover that there was something different about her. He had thought that ever since he rst saw her. For some reason, she always came to classes wearing a long skirt and headscarf. This was not exactly high fashion in central London, especially not amongst university students looking for adventure and acceptance. There was something more than this though. She also had some sort of calm and serene aurora about her, not to mention was very diligent and faithful in her class work. Others quickly knocked together their coursework the morning before it was due after spending nights in drunken debauchery. Ben was sure that this wasn’t the case with Alexandra. He couldn’t see her wasting her life away down the local pub or out indulging in the tantalising delights of London nightlife. Some branded her a weirdo and even made fun of her behind her back. Initially, Ben had been tempted to think the same, except that he realised he was as much a weirdo, according to the other student's standards, as she, except he didn’t have the same inner calm. As Ben re ected on these things, he began to drift away. He had already reached the state whereby he was conscious of what was going through his mind, but no longer in control. His mind approached the moment that had rst made him think about coming to Romania, but before he got there, he entered the land of nod.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 8

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 9

City Venture The next day it took Ben a while to get going. He had some tiredness to work through after such a long train journey, 14 hours over night from Budapest, and the excitable overwhelmedness of meeting head on a new culture. As he lay semi-conscious in Bed, he had heard the others rummaging around in the at as they gradually got up and got going on a new day. He had understood that Stefan went to work somewhere or other, but he hadn’t got as far as determining what Florin or Doina did with their time. By the time he eventually prised himself out of bed and ventured beyond his room, the at was empty. He took advantage of this to have a leisurely wash and then roam around to inspect the at by daylight. Even by the unforgiving standards of daylight, the at looked in good condition. Ben thought to himself that either someone in the family must have a good salary, or maybe they inherited money from a long lost aunt or perhaps, and hopefully not, some funny business had gone on. Ben didn’t feel too hungry as his stomach was still full with the previous night’s rice. It was a good feeding to say the least and he felt like it would keep him going well into the day. His hosts were obviously well into hospitality because not only had they fed him well and been very welcoming, once they realised who he was, but they also had left a spare key out for him, which he spied sitting on the kitchen table, accompanied by a note: 'Cheie de la apartament. Noi vom

acasă mai târziu.'

It didn’t take too much to work out what this meant. It was obviously the apartment key, and after checking on the meanings of ‘acasă’ and ‘târziu’, Ben understood that they would be home later. Languages are funny things, Ben mused. So many differences, but yet so many similarities. It wouldn’t take many English speakers long to work out what ‘apartament’ meant, for example, but on the other hand who would have thought that ‘târziu’ meant late. Then there were words like ‘mai’ which meant more. Sort of like English, but not quite. In any case, whatever the reasons for these digressions and congressions, he was determined to make linguistic progress. Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 9

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 9

Ben gratefully took the key as it gave him a certain freedom to go and come as he please. Very trusting on the host families part, but then they had mumbled something about 100 euros last night, so if this was what he was paying for the room, then he felt entitled to a bit of luxury. Finally, he popped his Romanian-English dictionary into his rucksack, put his shoes on and opened the door, ready to step out into the challenges and, he hoped, opportunities that lay ahead. The rst task was to nd his way to the city centre. This didn’t seem like it would be so hard. On the way to the at the day before he had spied a big M raised up above a passageway leading down into the ground. Maybe this could have been mistaken by the unwitting as some sort of underground fast food restaurant, but Ben was wiser than that. He already knew that in Romanian the underground system was called, 'Metrou' and so by his powers of deduction he reached the conclusion that the big M raised above the ground stood for 'Metrou'. Besides this, it was blue, not yellow. It didn’t take too much navigating to negotiate his way through the blocks of ats onto the main street and, once there, the blue M stood out like a shining beacon. He moved towards it and took the escalator, when he arrived, down into the underground station. Like much of the rest of the city, the station looked like it hadn’t changed much since communist days. It was kind of drab, but at least it was spacious and relatively clean. The rst obstacle was to buy a ticket. The handy pocket-sized Romanian dictionary that he had on him, helped him with this. 'Vă rog, un bilet cu două călătorii', was the appropriate phrase. There were also other tickets on offer, but Ben thought he would play it safe and go for the simplest, which was this two journey ticket, whatever that might be.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 9

The man behind the counter understood what Ben wanted, maybe he was used to dealing with foreigners, and asked for 'un leu, 50 de bani' as the price. The elation of this initial victory of managing to successfully ask for a ticket was quickly subdued as Ben realised that he didn’t have any Romanian money. A silly, but easy mistake to make. On his way to the underground station, he had even seen a Bureau de Change on the street. It wasn’t hard as there seemed to be a number of them about. Slightly embarrassed, he left the kiosk without a word, leaving the ticket salesman a little bemused, but returned rapidly with some Lei in his wallet. Fortunately, due to the quirks of exchange rates, his ve twenty pound notes had bought him a good selection of Romanian currency and he was now able to hand the ticket man a green note and a large coin. In return, he received what looked like a ticket from his local multiple storey car park back home. He refrained from making any jokes about not remembering where he had left his car, and instead focused on working out what he was supposed to do with the ticket. Again, being a man of perception, it wasn’t too hard to realise that you slotted it into the machine adorning the barrier that prevented access to the platform where the trains arrived. He did this, the barrier sprung loose, allowing him to push through and he plucked his ticket back, now with the date and some other information printed on the back. Straight after passing through the barrier, he came to a staircase that led down to the platform. It was now that another slightly scary thought occurred; he didn’t actually know where he was going!

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminisciences 9

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 10

Which Way? At rst, this seemed like it wouldn’t be a big problem. Ben was used to the London underground where many a time he had negotiated his way around even previously unknown areas without a map of his own, just using the signs, tube network information and handy ‘you are here’ maps dotted around all over the place. However, he soon discovered that Bucharest was a different kettle of sh. As he descended the stairs down onto the platform, he began looking around for a map of the different stations. He thought he would just pick one that looked like it was somewhere central in the city and head there. To his dismay though, there was no sign anywhere showing a map of the stations and not even a handy little sign at least stating which direction each line was heading. There were two possibilities and Ben was now faced with the slightly risky task of jumping on one of them and going on a magical mystery tour to see where it would take him. He could have tried to ask someone for assistance, but his Romanian certainly wasn’t up to discussing such things, and he didn’t fancy his chances of nding someone whose English was. He thus spent a few despondent moments on the platform contemplating what to do. It wasn’t by any means the end of the world, but on the other hand, he didn’t really want to get lost in this unknown city, where most people spoke a language only slightly discernible to him. As he weighed up his options, a solution became evident. Underground trains glided in and out of the station, stopping to his left and right as he was standing on the platform between them. He noticed that inside of one of the trains there was what looked like a map of some kind, and so this gave birth to an idea. If there was a map inside the trains, why didn’t he just take the opportunity to spy through the open doors while people were getting on and off the train in order to work out which direction he needed to go?

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 10

He braced himself and when the next train came to a halt alongside him, he skilfully manoeuvred himself to a position where he could see into the train while people were alighting. At rst, he tried to look through the window so as to not obstruct too much the passengers, but this proved tricky as the glass wasn’t so clear. Gradually, he shuf ed to one side so that he could now peer through the open sliding doors giving himself a much better view. The map was however small and not so easy to read as he wasn’t familiar with it. He moved closer to the doorway to get a better look. As he was trying to decipher what was what, suddenly he heard a voice shouting. At rst, he tutted in his mind, people these days, always there’s someone disturbing the peace! All of a sudden though, he realised that there was no one else around him. 'Ce faceți? Îndepărtați-vă de la ușa! Nu vedeți că trebuie să plecam!' cried out the voice again. Ben looked to his side and saw an angry looking man, dressed like a train driver, from whom the shouts were originating. It immediately dawned on Ben that these were not the cries of wanton merriment, but rather the anger of an annoyed train driver who couldn’t start his train because a lost Englishman was standing too close to it to close one set of doors! Suddenly a wave of embarrassment came over him. His map reading efforts were holding up the whole train! He quickly withdrew from his position, trying to look as cool and innocent as possible. This appeased the train driver who turned and returned to the cabin at the front of the train. Within a few seconds, the train then whirred into life and departed. Ben was frustrated because, in spite of his embarrassing deed of delaying the train, he was none the wiser as to which direction to head in. Reason nevertheless soon took over and he realised to himself that if he just jumped into one of the trains he would be able to study the map at leisure and even it wasn’t the right direction, there was nothing much lost. He could just get off at the next station, cross the platform and head back on the next train in the other direction. Logic was such a helpful thing. Why didn’t he use it more often?, he mused to himself.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 10

His plan worked a treat, with one slight aw. Due to his embarrassment, he couldn’t bring himself to get on the next train going in the direction of the train that he had held up, so instead, he waited for and then jumped on the next train going in the opposite direction. Sure enough, he was then able to approach the station map and begin studying it. A problem though was that there wasn’t a station marked with a word like ‘centre’ to enable him to work out where to get off for the city centre. Maybe Bucharest didn’t have a centre, he thought to himself. Although a setback, Ben’s powers of logic were now well warmed up and so he struck upon a simple solution. He picked an interesting looking station ‘Universitate’ (he felt like he had a good idea what he would nd there) and decided to get off there. Then, he could go for a wander around, get a feel for the place and when the time was right, return to this station and hop on the train back in the other direction until he reached his starting point ‘Crângași’. Pure genius!

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 10

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

Short Change Ben exited the ‘Universitate’ ‘metrou’ station vie a biggish escalator and then some stairs that led to a dingy underground shopping area. Not the most attractive place to come to get your goodies. He quickly left here via some more stairs, which required careful negotiation as if he was on a mountain hike due to their somewhat dilapidated state. There was one last obstacle in some extraordinarily tangled electrical wiring, which hang just shy of the exit to the ‘metrou’ station, but most people passed by nonchalantly, obviously thinking that it was suf ciently far away that barring a hurricane-force wind, it was unlikely to collapse on unsuspecting pedestrians. Thus nally, he came out into the concrete jungle that was Bucharest. Despite his many months of longing to be here, it actually wasn’t in the end anything much to write home about. The underground passageway that he had come out of had four exits, each one leading to a different corner of a mighty intersection between two roads. To the left, there was a big road leading off into the distance, but before him was another lesser road, but all the same pretty busy. To the right, across the road, he could see the University building. A little further down the road on his side, there some other impressive looking buildings were lined up. He spent the best part of the next hour or so wandering aimlessly up and down this road and then around the university building, soaking in the atmosphere of the place. It had a strange feel to it. In some ways Latin, but with a noticeable hint of Slavic. The language being spoken on the streets was almost unintelligible, except for a few words, however, it sounded distinctly like some of Ben’s Polish acquaintances with lots of ‘shs’ and the like going on. Its written form, plastered on many advertisements all around, also belied a certain Latiness and was certainly slightly more understandable than the spoken form, but nevertheless still included many strange looking words. Many of the buildings looked like they were about a hundred years old or more, although even here in the architecture there was a strange mix, as there were a number of Soviet-style constructions slotted along the architectural landscape. The streets were reasonably clean and bustling with people and traf c. This all created a lively atmosphere and Ben could see why some would warm to such a place. Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

Gradually, he became tired of his reconnaissance mission and started to feel hungry. In his circling around, Ben had been aware of a few eating options, but he was drawn to one in the underground shopping area by the ‘Univeristate’ station. Not the prettiest or most appealing of locations, but it was ttingly studenty in appearance and so probably suited his budget and appetite and was also conveniently located on the way back to the underground station. Thus, he headed there. He arrived to see that its name was ‘Everest’ and so he began to hope that it was a mountain among fast-food restaurants, but after entering and surveying their menu listed on the wall behind the serving counter and the real-life representations on display, he realised that it wasn’t so towering as far as culinary delights were concerned. He decided to play it safe, and among the various things on offer, many of which he wasn’t sure what they were, he spied what looked like spaghetti bolognese. This was undoubtedly one of his favourite dishes, so he easily convinced himself to try a Romanian fast food version. Using a handy bit of sign language he managed to order a nice plate of the spaghetti with a slightly anaemic looking, but nevertheless pleasantly smelling, bolognese sauce. In this plac,e they obviously weren’t used to Romanian spoken with an English accent (if even what Ben was endeavouring to speak could be considered Romanian!), so at the till the lady showed Ben how much he needed to pay, 12 RON, by emphatically pointing at the display on the till. He wasn’t yet fully familiar with the money so after embarrassingly rummaging around a while in his wallet looking for the right amount, he just got out two 10 RON notes and thrust them at her as she waited impatiently. In return, she took some coins out of the till thrust them back at him and he turned to look for a seat and get away as quickly as possible from this ‘I’m a foreigner who doesn’t know exactly what’s going on’ situation.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

There were plenty of empty tables, so he quickly saw a spot to camp down on and started to move towards it. As he was going, he began to re ect on what just happened. Something didn’t feel right. Ben was no maths genius, but all the same, he knew a bit, and could at least work out in his head that 20 minus 12 was 8. In other words, he should have received 8 RON change, however, the lady had given him just a few coins. He knew that the notes were RON, starting from 1 up, but what were the coins? Was it possible that they were RON too? He sat himself down at his chosen table and got out the change to analyse it. It was a series of not so shinny coins. All of them had ‘Bani’ written on them, in various different denominations. During his studies of Romania before actually coming here, Ben hadn’t given much thought to the currency, which was probably a mistake. However, it was clear that ‘Bani’ were to RON, what pennies are to pounds. Mulling things over, gradually the feeling started to grow in Ben that he had been short changed! He was starting to regret his lack of Romanian nancial knowledge, although in any economy it couldn’t be the case that a few bani coins were the equivalent to 8 RON. Suddenly it struck him that, assuming there were 100 bani to the RON, he would need 800 bani to make 8 RON, but he added up what was in his hand and it only came to 73 bani, some 727 bani short of what it should be, unless of course there was somehow 10 bani to the RON. Being a placid sort of fellow, at rst, Ben thought he would let it go. Who knows, maybe there were indeed 10 bani to the RON and he would only exacerbate his image of being a ‘foreigner who doesn’t really know what’s going on’ by complaining. On the other hand, maybe the lady had just made an honest mistake? It seemed though to be an unlikely error and Ben’s Englishness started coming to the fore. The English hadn’t got where they had got in this world by being short changed had they? Thus, eventually overcome by his sense of national duty and not wanting to loose out on his RON, Ben decided to return to the lady on the till and clarify the situation.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

He rose hesitantly, but determinedly and made the brief walk back towards the till. He clutched the coins in one hand to show them to the lady and in the other hand, he held the receipt. He wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t quite sure how he was going to address the problem from a linguistic point of view, but he felt like he would just give it his best shot. His fears of a communicational showdown were quickly resolved though because, as the lady on the till saw him approaching, without a word she popped the till open, took out 8 RON and thrust it towards him. Wow, thought Ben to himself, she catches on quickly, although then scepticism began to grow in him. How did she know what he wanted and exactly how much money to give him? This was either extraordinary anticipation or a confession of guilt. In any case, Ben wasnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t the sort to make a big fuss and so he returned to his seat, full of pride at his great victory.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 11

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 12

Temptation Ben supped away on his spaghetti with what could only be described as a very runny sauce. Between mouthfuls, he also sipped the clear, dark yellow liquid that he had also bought, which turned out to be sharply avoured apple juice. As he munched away, he became aware that there werenâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t many others dining at this time. It was only around 11.30 a.m. so before the lunch rush, Ben speculated. There was one person though that had caught his eye, and that for the wrong reasons. There was a young woman sitting a few tables away. She had glanced brie y at him as he returned from his money recuperation exploits. That was when Ben had rst noticed her. She was certainly attractive; a full, healthy-looking face, well de ned with ever so slightly dark skin. She was also a well proportioned looking female, not overly large, but neither was she off-puttingly skinny. Her hair was jet black, straight, shinny and shoulder-length, making for an exquisite crown. All this was very positive, but it was her dress sense that made Ben wary. Her clothes were tight, with just a little too much on display. This gave her the air of a femme fatale and Ben thought that he had enough on his plate, dealing with getting used to a new city, without such an added distraction. Ben did his best to not notice her as he worked his way through the plate of spaghetti and the apple juice. It was hard though and a few times he found his eld of view being drawn in her direction. He struggled to keep his focus on the Romanian style Italian fare before him. He was glad when, after a few minutes, he was able to polish it off and arise to head out of the restaurant. However, as he turned his back to the temptation and prepared to leave, he felt himself hesitate. He quickly whipped some money out of his pocket as if he needed to count it, using this distraction as a way to compose himself and offering it to any onlookers as an explanation of why he was standing still. The hesitation proved signi cant though. He was just ready to head off when he heard a voice and sensed a presence near him. 'American?'. Ben swivelled to see the origin of the sound, although he already knew. 'No, actually not,' was his very polite reply.

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'Oh, ok. Where are you from?, said the voice that Ben could now see was coming from the young lady who had previously been sitting a little way away from him. 'England, he answered brie y, uncertain how much he should enter into discussion with her. Nice. What you do in Romania? was her next question. 'Just visiting, spluttered Ben in response, starting to feel a little nervous. 'You like to visit Cișmigiu?', said the young lady. Ben was a bit taken aback at this statement come question, and he wasn’t altogether sure if visiting Cișmigiu was something that he would like or even should do. It was not something he had ever really thought about. It was like he was starting to get drawn into something that was going to be hard to get out of. 'Maybe. What is that actually?', he said trying to clarifying what was being offered. 'It is park. I go in that direction. I show you', she said tantalisingly. 'Ok, thanks', Ben found himself unable to refuse, thinking that she was probably just trying to help out an obvious stranger and that in any case, he was big enough to handle himself. They left the restaurant. The young lady took the lead, beckoning Ben to follow after her. They exited the underground passage of the Metrou station and headed back down the road that Ben had already explored, but with a more de nite purpose, going beyond the point to which Ben had reached. As they went along, Ben enquired of some more details regarding his new found female companion. 'What is your name?' I am Oana'.

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'What do you do?' 'I am student of international relations'. Ben realised that there were some jokes to made here, but he decided to refrain. Maybe she was just putting into practice what she had been studying, he chuckled to himself, as he thought about the predicament that he was now in. After a brief walk, they arrived at a park that Oana pronounced to be CiČ&#x2122;migiu. It looked nice from the outside and Ben started moving towards the entrance, expecting Oana to follow. She, however, remained standing. Ben was slightly startled by this role reversal and turned to look at her. 'I go now. At next bus stop, I get high on the bus', was her explanation. Ben was alarmed by her declaration of intent, but then he thought that judging by her liberal use of English grammar, maybe she hadnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t quite meant what she just said. 'Oh, ok. So you are going home?', he clari ed. 'Yes, I go home, I need to study but I give you my telephone number. Maybe we meet tomorrow', she said, opening her bag and taking out an exercise book. She scribbled her number in it and then ripped out the piece of paper with it on and offered it to Ben. He accepted, said goodbye and then watched as she continued her walk up the street leaving him behind.

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 12

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 13

Chance Encounter Ben entered the park alone. He was slightly sad that Oana had left, a little bemused as to why she had suggested going to Cismigiu, but then bailed out at the last moment, overall though he was relieved, thinking that it was probably for the best. CiČ&#x2122;migiu was a nice sized park. Not too large that you could get lost, but not so small that you couldnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t have a good wander around. It was a pleasant mix as well of open space, a central lake, some windy paths and wooded end zone, where you could indulge in some adventures. Today, which was Saturday, was obviously a popular day and the park was full of all different sorts of people, although predominately families with young children. This made for a buzzing atmosphere and those with a commercial are were endeavouring to make the most of it. There were various vendors dotted throughout the park, selling anything ranging from helium balloons to hot dogs to candy oss. Ben was tempted by some candy oss but thought better of it. Not good for the teeth, he mused. In the centre of the park, by the lake, a throng had started to gather. Ben felt drawn there, too. A mini-stage had been set up and currently, a clown was doing his stuff. This had attracted the attention of many, particularly those with small children. Little amuses the innocent thought Ben, as he and a multitude of others watched a man in a brightly coloured costume with baggy trousers and glaring red suspenders, trip over his own cumbersome, curvy toed shoes, whip out owers that squirted water and generally indulge in all sorts of tomfoolery. As Ben stood, rooted to the spot, staring at the colourful display on offer, he suddenly felt a tug on his right side. As was his habit, when visiting unknown places, he was wearing his long trousers with large side pockets. These were particularly handy for tucking his wallet and telephone into, one on each side, and as he went along, he could regularly feel them and thus reassure himself that these two important items were safe.

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The tug caused immediate alarm because the right side was where he kept his wallet, something highly important to not lose. He jerked his gaze away from the clown and to the right to see what had caused the tug. He was shocked to see a stubbly man, black hair and not very tall, standing next to him, with his hand stretched out, clasping Ben’s wallet, and in the process of extracting it from the pocket it was in. There was an awkward moment as Ben stared at the thief and he stared back at Ben. It was an unusual situation to be in and neither knew quite how to react. After a few seconds though, the thief decided to ee, whipping completely the wallet out of Ben’s pocket and then turning to run. Ben hesitated, not knowing quite the right course of action. He realised that he would be in trouble without the wallet and so instinctively began to pursue the man. It was a bit like a scene from a classic Hollywood movie as the thief darted between people and shimmed around corners and other obstacles to try and get away, with Ben following not far behind. Ben had done a lot of running in his youth, so felt in good shape, although he was hindered in his pursuit by the thought of what he would actually do if he caught up with the man. After a brief chase, things came to their culmination when the man took a sharp left. A few seconds later Ben also took this left turn, starting to breathe heavily and uncertain how much he would be able to go on. However, as he turned the corner he was met by what would have been a comedy scene if it wasn’t for the fact that the situation was so serious. The thief was lying sprawled on the ground, with another man beside him, and between them was a large book and the wallet. When the man saw Ben he quickly got to his feet and took off again. This time Ben let him go as the thing of interest, his wallet, remained there, lying on the oor. Ben went over and grabbed his wallet and then addressed the other man. 'Are you alright?' 'Da, totul e bine!', was a slightly groggy response from him, as he started to sit up.

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Ben lent over him and began to help him to his feet. He was wearing a fairly smart suit, missing a tie and, oddly, he had a black t-shirt on as opposed to a shirt. Ben helped him dust himself off. As he was doing so, his attention was drawn to the book lying on the ground. It was largish and pretty thick and had the word ‘Biblia’ written on its cover. 'Is this yours?' Ben asked the man as he bent over to pick the book up. 'Yes, thank you,' came the reply in unexpectedly good English. Ben returned the book to the man, who accepted it with great glee. 'Are you American?' said the man. 'No, not quite', answered Ben. 'Ah, yes, I hear your accent now. British! Nice to meet you. I am Ovidiu. What is your name?' 'My name is Ben,' he said. 'Thank you for helping', he added, not really knowing how else to interpret the situation and being slightly embarrassed about indirectly causing Ovidiu’s small accident. 'Nu-i nimic! It’s nothing! Actually, I think it is God’s plan,' Ovidiu reassured him. Ben wasn’t sure about the divine intervention, but he was certainly glad to have his wallet back. It would have been a nightmare to have tried to get through a few days in Bucharest without it. Ben wasn’t much of a one for small talk, but he felt like he owed Ovidiu something. 'You speak good English,' he offered as a compliment. Ovidiu was visibly pleased to hear this. 'Oh, thank you. I am Masters’ student of foreign languages.'

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This explained it. Ben started to think about offering him an ice cream as a reward or maybe better said, compensation, but Ovidiu jumped the gun and evidently had other plans. 'Well, I am glad to help, but I need to go now. I am sorry for thief. România are nevoie de Dumnezeu! Romania needs God!' 'Ok. Thank you again!' 'Maybe you give to me telephone number. We could go to church tomorrow.' Ben hadn’t really been expecting a church invite and so wasn’t sure what to say. 'I’m sorry, but I don’t have a telephone yet. Maybe you can give me your number?' Ovidiu happily obliged, offering his number on a scrap of paper. Then he abruptly turned and headed off. Ben started to feel like abrupt goodbyes were perhaps the done thing around here.

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Chequered Past Being pumped up by the adrenaline rush of recent events, Ben felt the need to wander about some more to let things settle down. Eventually, he calmed down and decided that he had had enough shenanigans for one day and began to head back to the metrou station. On the way, he had one more interesting adventure trying to buy a telephone sim card. He thought that now he was starting to make friends, he had better sort himself out a convenient way to contact them. He had to spend a bit of time remonstrating with the land in the little kiosk near to the underground station, but nally, he left with a 5 RON orange sim. He thought that it seemed good value if had understood correctly the perks it offered. After a relatively straight forward journey to where he was staying, compared to the other antics of the day, he spent some time resting followed by another hearty meal prepared by Doina, this time some chips, dripping in grease, and some chicken, also dripping in grease. Later on, after another cold rinse in the bathtub and a fair while getting to grips with his new telephone system; free minutes, magic numbers and international calling being among the bonuses he seemed able to get, if he dialled the right combinations of numbers and symbols on his keypad, he nally settled down into bed and began re ecting on the day. His mind mulled over the different things he had seen in the city, but most of all it was the people who he had met that stood out. In many respects, it was a strange contrast. There was the brief encounter with the underground train driver that he felt he would rather forget, there was also the short interaction with the lady serving at the fast food place and, of course, last but not least, the wanton pickpocketer.Â These rather unfortunate moments had however led to some more signi cant meetings with both Oana, the alluring femme fatale, and Ovidiu, the Bible carrying hero, who had saved Benâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s wallet, all be it unwittingly as his collision with the thief was probably accidental. In any case, Ben was now torn. He had two offers for tomorrow. Either to try and meet up with Oana for a walk or to go to Church with Ovidiu. He had both their phone numbers and began debating in his mind which offer to follow up on. There was of course potentially a third way; maybe he could try and do both!

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As he wrestled in his mind with the decision of whether he would rather spend Sunday with Oana or Ovidiu, his mind drifted off to a signi cant incident a few years before at university. Feeling kind of lonely he had decided to join the football society. They’d invited him to come and play indoor ve-a-side football one autumn evening. He’d gone with high hopes, but was eventually disappointed, not just because his footballing ability wasn’t quite as Maradonna-esc as he had imagined, but also the lack of care the other guys showed for him. Rather daringly he had embarked upon his football playing exploits while still wearing his glasses. Everything was foggy without them and it was tricky playing football when you couldn’t see who you were passing to! The match had hardly begun though when this proved to be a mistake. Ben, porting only a tender frame, collided with an onrushing player from the other team and was knocked completely to the ground. He wasn't hurt, just a little shaken, and quickly picked himself up. However, he suddenly realised that his glasses had been ung off their rightful spot on his nose. He started to look for them but had to squint to improve his eyesight just enough to be able to make out clearly the oor. After a quick look around, there he saw them, still in one piece, but looking somewhat bent. All the while, as he looked around, the football match was continuing around him, without a care in the world for his fallen spectacles. Indeed, a few times the footballers running up and down were very close to stepping on them. Fortunately, no one actually did and Ben was able to dodge his way between the would-be Paul Gascoignes to eventually make it to the spot where his glasses lay and save them. He ran off the pitch with them and deposited them safely in the changing room. They were now too bent to t into his glasses’ case, so he just left them perched by his things and then returned to the footballing fray. He continued playing as best he could, in spite of his eyesight hinderance, but he wasn’t up to much cop. His team ended up losing 3-2 and Ben spending most of the match running around aimlessly. To be fair, he probably would have done the same, even if he had had his glasses on, but at least with them on, he would have been able to see clearly the ball as it ew passed him.

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After the match, he went and got changed, half expecting that someone might enquire as to his well being, or at least offer a word of comfort about his glasses. He even wafted them around a bit, before putting them back on. To no avail though, no one seemed the slightest bit bothered about his suffering and so he left discouraged from the football, which he'd hope might lift his spirits and improve his social life, holding onto his glasses so that they didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t fall off in their now very wonky state that made them sit only precariously on his face. As he exited the sports hall and began walking a long the damp, central London street towards the tube station to make his way home, who should he see but Alexandra. She was speeding a long, umbrella in hand and with a couple of text books tucked under her arm. She too nearly bumped into Ben in the grimness of this October evening, but at the last moment, noticed that someone was in her path and swerved to avoid the possible collision. She stopped when she recognised that it was Ben. 'How are you,' she said. 'Fine,' he lied. 'Where were you?' 'Just, playing football. What about you? Where are you rushing off to?' 'The library. We have coursework for tomorrow. You remember?' 'Of course.' Ben had completely forgotten but he gured that in his depressed state it didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t matter. Anyway, he had plenty of time to go home and get it done. 'Are you sure you are ok? Why you hold your glasses?' said Alexandra, evidently perceiving things were not quite as rosy as Ben would have liked to convey.

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'I had a little accident but itâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s ne. Nothing much really. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m ok, just a bit tired,' he replied not sure if he was trying harder to reassure her or himself. 'May God help you feel better and I pray for you to rest and your glasses to be ok!' With these comforting words, she was off. Ben was a little taken aback. It was more than he had expected. He had never really thought about praying for glasses to get better, but, hey, why not? He didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t really care about anything much right now and at least Alexandra had time to talk to him, even if she said strange things, which was more than those other football playing guys. After a few seconds to gather himself, Ben headed off towards the underground station, trying to remember what the coursework was about.

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Decisions Ben woke up relatively early as his habit was to wake whenever the rst sunlight starts to penetrate his window. His rst thoughts were about how he was going to spend the day. He was none the wiser, in spite of his meditations before dropping off to sleep. He had two phone numbers, offering two potentially different types of day and he was going to have to jolly well choose one of them. Ben wasn’t good at decision making and he tended to dither until the decision made itself. This situation was a case in point. Still undecided, he eventually prised himself out of bed and got the two pieces of paper with the numbers written on them out of the pocket of the jeans he had been wearing the day before. He was being tempted by Oana, but deep down inside he thought that maybe this wasn’t the right way. He unfolded the pieces of paper to look at the numbers, thinking that somehow looking at them was going to help him make his decision. Ironically, it did. He unscrunched both pieces of paper and was struck by the fact that neither Oana or Ovidiu had written down them names. It obviously hadn’t occurred to them that Ben was going to receive more than one piece of paper with a telephone number on it that day. So now Ben was confronted with two telephone numbers, not knowing whose was whose. Maybe this was divine intervention? It offered up an intriguing solution to his dilemma. He could just randomly choose a number, call it and then whoever was on the end must be the person who he was supposed to spend the day with. Ben liked these sorts of resolutions. It was kind of exciting, but he was also nervous. He went and got himself washed, another cold rinse in the bathtub making him think he must get to the bottom of how to say ‘how do I turn the hot water on, please?’, and then dressed. He fancied some toast but didn’t see anything in the kitchen that looked like a toaster. Doina came upon him as he was contemplating what to eat. 'N-am timp, trebuie să ma duc la piața, dar este ceai.'

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Ben knew ‘Ceai’ meant tea. He wasn’t much of a tea person, although he was pleasantly surprised to discover that for Doina tea included a ne selection of pancakes, both with sweet cheese and also some with strawberry jam, not to mention honey and butter to spread on bread. It would have been better if it was toast, but you can’t have everything Ben re ected. In any case, his main preoccupations were elsewhere. After breakfast, he retired to his room to make the important phone call. He was used to procrastinating, and rather good at it, he thought, but the moment of truth had come. He needed to call one of the numbers. He did manage a bit of a procrastinate nevertheless as he debated how to chose which number to ring. He thought about ip-dip-sky-blue, but it seemed too childish. He needed more of a manly way of going about things. Finally, he came to the manly conclusion that he would scrunch the bits of paper back up and then pick one at random. And this he did. The number he picked started: 0798. Could this be Oana or Ovidiu? he wondered. Well, there was only one way to nd out. He dialled it and then waited with butter ies in his stomach. He heard a ring tone brie y and then suddenly a voice, 'Numarul care ați format este ocupat!' then silence. Was this once again divine intervention, or was it just a test. He thought about what to do now his plan had been foiled. There were two options, either to move onto the other number or give this one another go. He remembered when he was doing exams at school and sometimes he agonised so much about his original answers that he changed them only to be dismayed to nd out after the exam that he had changed an initially right answer to a wrong one. This had taught him a good life lesson that he thought was relevant to his current situation. He would give the rst number another go after 10 minutes and only if he didn’t get a response would he then try the other number. He took the chance for a quick nap as he waited for the time to elapse before retrying the number. It was hard work making decisions and he felt like he had earned a breather even it was hardly nine in the morning. When the time was up, he rose and took up his phone and the piece of paper again. He felt the nerves rising in his stomach once again. He dialled the number and waited. Then, the voice again, 'Numarul care.....'

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The decision having been made for him, Ben reached out to get the other piece of paper which was sitting on the table by him in his room. This was a 06 number. Seven seemed like a better bet than six, it being a perfect number and all that whereas six has certain negative associations, 666 and the like, but that was just superstition, speculated Ben. Without further ado, having summed up new con dence now that the decision had been clearly made, he rang this number with almost no nerves. It rang a few times before Ben heard the receptor at the other end being answered and a voice starting to speak.

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Orthodoxy Ovidiu was delighted to hear that Ben wanted to come with him to church. He arranged to meet him at the Piața Unirii metrou station at the exit near to Mcdonald’s. Ben thought that this wouldn’t be too hard to nd. The only thing was that Ovidiu wanted them to meet at 9.30 a.m. which meant having to rush. Having already spent one day in the city, Ben felt more con dent now and thought that he could manage to handle this. Indeed, he did, throwing on some outdoors clothes and trainers, shooting out of the block of ats (complete with the dicey lift ride down, fortunately the lift had only been stationed two oors below, so whirred up to him quickly!) and then darting between other blocks of ats and various hindrances such as fences, cars, kiosks, stray dogs and pedestrians to reach his destination of Crângași Metrou station. From here, he bought his two journey ticket and jumped on the rst train to come, hoping it was the one in the right direction. It was, although as he studied the map he realised that this wasn’t hard as the route was circular so both trains went through Piața Unirii, just one got there quicker than the other. Fortunately, he had gotten on the one that arrived there sooner, or maybe it was divine intervention once again. Whatever the forces behind his fortuitous decision, it was handy because he arrived at Piața Unirii with just 5 minutes to spare to navigate his way around and nd the Mcdonald’s. He circled around the platform that he had arrived at but didn’t see any golden Ms. He saw that there was a passageway that seemed to be leading through to a different bit of the station, so he decided to give that ago. It was just as well he did because in a jiffy he was standing before an underground Mcdonald’s at 9.32 a.m., only two minutes late. No sign of Ovidiu though. He waited and then waited some more and then started to wonder if anything had happened. Ovidiu had stressed the need for him to rush and be on time, but now Ovdiu wasn’t there. What could the reason be? Ben asked himself. At precisely 9.48 a.m., Ovidiu appeared. 'Hello! Good to see you. Let’s go!' were his only words, with no reference to his tardiness. It was as if he was right on time. Ben shrugged and followed as Ovidiu led the way out of the underground station via some stairs and a biggish escalator.

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They then set off on a good paced walk via a busy area next to a shopping centre, which necessitated some good people dodging skills. They turned right and headed up a wide road, away from the masses and into a much more open space. Ben started to lose his breath as Ovidiu dragged him along at a high pace. Funny thought Ben, he’d rushed to be on time and now he was being rushed at someone else’s behest when if all had gone to plan, he could now be enjoying a stroll. He felt a little annoyance growing in him at this injustice, but after a brief internal struggle, he sensed something drawing him along, even if a part of him was telling him to stop. Ovidiu led the way, oblivious to the wrestling going on behind him inside of Ben. After a brisk 10 minute walk, Ovidiu abruptly veered to the right and entered into the courtyard of an ornate looking church. It wasn’t quite what Ben had been expecting. He’d seen Ovidiu as more of an evangelical sort of guy, walking around carrying his Bible, making references to God’s will and inviting people to church. But here they were in front of an Orthodox church! Ovidiu headed up the steps that led into the church and Ben had no choice except to follow. The courtyard of the Church was very crowded with people everywhere. Ben hadn’t thought that the Orthodox church was so well attended, although he started to speculate that something special was going on, especially as there was a long queue of people on the steps waiting to enter the church. Ovidiu, however, avoided the queue and went straight in the door. A bit cheeky it seemed to Ben, but he had no choice but to follow suit. Ben found himself in the hallway area that lay before the actual church sanctuary. Ovidiu had stopped by the doorway and was peering in. 'What’s going on?' asked Ben when he nally caught up with Ovidiu. 'Today, the Moaștele of Sfântul Nectarie are here and I want to see,' replied Ovidiu. Ben was now none the wiser why there were actually there, but he was reassured that this was just a detour and not their nal destination. 'What do you mean by ‘Moaștele?' Ben responded inquisitively.

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Ovidiu turned to him, looking slightly bothered by the question as if everyone should know what ‘Moaștele’ are. 'These are the bits that are left of the Sfânt.' It didn’t take Ben much to work out that Sfânt was probably Saint, but the concept of bits of him being left seemed decidedly odd. To make things clearer Ovidiu began pointing into the church to direct Ben’s attention to what he meant. There placed somewhere in the middle of the church’s open space was a table with a white table cloth on it. Sitting atop the table was a picture frame, a very ornate looking one at that, with golden edges and ne red material backing instead of a picture. Perched within the frame was a small object. Ben had to edge into the church to be able to discern what it actually was. As he got closer, it gradually dawned on him that it was ngernail! There was a long line of people waiting to stand before this most holy of ngernails. When each person’s turn came, they edged towards it, bowing, kissing, making crosses and just generally showing signs of great respect. They then turned and left as the next person approached. This all seemed a little much to Ben for such an apparently insigni cant object. After all, if anyone really wanted, he could provide a host of nail clippings free of charge! Ben stared a while at this most odd sight. Ovidiu stood by his side, also seemingly trying to take it all in. Ben was so struck by the strangeness of what was unfolding before him that he barely noticed the extraordinary insides of the Church building. It was exquisitely decorated with beautifully coloured paintings of saints and Bible scenes and other stories all over the walls and ceiling. There were also many other splendid objects culminating in the extravagant golden wall that stood behind the altar at the front of the church. For Ben though, this was all overshadowed by the ngernail. Eventually, he and Ovidiu tore themselves away from what was happening and started to make their way out of the church. There was one door to get into the church sanctuary and another to leave. They made their way to the exit, but as they were doing so they heard a voice. 'Nu vreți niște Aghiasma?'

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They swivelled around to see a man with a well-grown beard, dressed in a long black robe, wafting a little silver bowl towards them. 'What’s that?' blurted out Ben instinctively, giving away his foreignness. 'American?' asked the man standing before them. 'No, actually not,' replied Ben antagonistically, feeling slightly annoyed at this recurring theme. 'Ok. We have holy water for sale. $20 a bottle,' said the man, whose English was pretty good.

Maybe he met a lot of Americans , speculated Ben. Ben looked at Ovidiu for suggestions of what to do. Ovidiu looked just as uncertain as Ben was. 'No, thanks. I prefer mineral water,' was Ben’s less than subtle response. This is special water. It is blessed by Mitropolitul Bucurestului!' Ben was wary of blessed drinks, ever since he’d seen a certain episode of ‘Only Fools and Horses.’ 'Well, thanks, but even if the Pope had blessed it, I’m still not interested,' was Ben’s unwise reply. At this, the man in black started to get agitated and began muttering something about ‘eretici’ and ‘sectanți’.

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'You must come back to true church!' were his nal words before turning his back and heading off to look for more receptive clients.

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The Power of Forgiveness As they left the church building, Ben noticed that at the top of the stairs that lead out from the church, a book table had been set up. Glancing as he passed, Ben observed all sorts of titles on offer, each of which with sombre, but decorative patterns on the front cover and different black and white photos, many of which seemed to be depicting ‘Sfântul Nectarie’ or other such holy people. There were also books with various different drawings, depicting saints or holy scenes. Everything was in Romanian, but Ben nevertheless felt drawn to have a punt and after a brief perusal he picked up a book entitled, 'Faptele Duhovnicesc ale Sfântului Nectarie' with a nice black and white picture, which presumably represented the man who was now just a ngernail! The book had a label with 5 RON written on it stuck to the front cover, so Ben happily obliged, handing the money over to the lady selling the books, just as Ovidiu approached, agitated and urging Ben to get a move on. Kind of ironic felt Ben, seeing as it was he who had initially had to wait for Ovidiu and that it had been Ovidiu’s idea to make this diversion into the world of saints. Anyway, Ben shrugged off this slight injustice, accepting that he himself also wasn’t perfect, and he was any way in a vulnerable situation, dependant on Ovidiu’s guidance to get him to the right church. They left the church courtyard at a brisk pace, weaving their way through the crowd that was slowly building up to see what must have been one of the most famous ngernails around. They headed onward up the street. Ben was struggling to keep up with Ovidiu and as they went he started to not feel very well. At rst, an uncomfortable pain rose in his stomach. He fought to suppress it, but it was dif cult. He managed to keep going a number of steps but then combined with these pains, his head started to hurt. This was capped by his vision beginning to go blurry. He started to lose sight of everything around him and so needed to break his fast-paced walk. He attempted to stumble on a few paces, but the sense of nausea became overwhelming, combined with a partial loss of consciousness, meaning that he had no choice but to come to an abrupt halt and fall to his knees.

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Rather than collapse completely on the oor, he was able to support himself by reaching out to a bench that was handily placed on the street and to which he had just about managed to make it, crouching down beside it. He spent a few moments in this awkward position, trying to steady his balance and hoping that he could hold the contents of his stomach in (he wouldn't want to waste the morning's lovely pancakes). While he did so, in his mind thoughts started to appear of abandoning this journey with Ovidiu to the church. He could see why the more traditional church that they had just visited was an attractive option for some. Its grandeur was something to behold and helped remind you of your actual place in this world. The Bible scenes and other decorations were spectacular and by being there to take them (although admittedly his attention was more drawn by the aforementioned ngernail), Ben felt like he had offered up his respect to divinity and that he was now free to go about his daily business as he pleased. There was however something missing. Ben re ected on an experience when he was student. A couple of weeks after his footballing exploits, he had got into a conversation with Alexandra before a lecture. She told him that that evening she was going with some people to a lm night and invited Ben to come along. He hesitated to accept, not just because he wasn’t really a lm buff, but also he lived a long way away from the university and he was nervous about meeting new people too. The lecture wasn’t a riveting one, something about Diels Alder reactions, and so he had plenty of time to re ect on Alexandra’s invitation as the professor waxed lyrical about Alkenes and the various bonds that they could form. Ben realised that he was a bit of a loose radical and that he needed some new connections, so at the end of the lecture, he approached Alexandra and said that he would come, even though he was hesitant and that it wasn’t all together convenient. Once the nal lecture of the day was over, Ben still had a three-hour wait until the time Alexandra had said people were meeting to go to the lm night. He killed some time in the library, investigating various cyclohexenes, before heading off to Burger King for some dinner. Once nished, it was just the right time to go to the meeting point for the lm. He had some nervousness in his stomach, but as he had said he would go, he felt that it was too late to pull out now. He arrived a few minutes early, but soon Alexandra, followed by some others, appeared.

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They set off on a trek through a number of streets before arriving at their destination, a communal student digs, where Ben learned that a few of the members of the Christian Union lived. Ben entered but was already uncomfortable. There was a large living room area where they were to watch the lm. Ben plonked himself down on the sofa and a number of others gathered around. A couple of American girls were alongside him and he had a brief chat. Inside of him though, a sense of not wanting to be there grew. It was hard to explain, but he just didn’t feel comfortable and often he developed headaches from such social gatherings. He learned that Star Wars was the lm to be viewed. This was the straw that broke the camel’s back and he decided that he needed to nd a way to leave. A few people said that they were popping out to get some snacks. Typically student-esc of them to realise that they hadn’t bought any popcorn after everyone had already gathered for the lm, but Ben saw for himself an opportunity. He volunteered to go with them but had no intention of returning with any salty delights. Instead, once out on the street, a conversation ensued among the couple of people he was with as to where they should go to get the snacks. Ben made his excuse though that he needed to go and left abruptly, heading for the nearest underground station in order to make his escape. Those with him were slightly baf ed by his decision to leave but were also too caught up in their own snack buying dilemma to say too much. Thus, Ben easily ed and headed home. Later on, though, re ecting on this incident, he started to feel bad. Alexandra had shown kindness to him, inviting him to this event and his response was to run away without even saying goodbye. He was sure that she would be angry and wouldn’t want to speak to him again. To Ben’s utter surprise though, they saw each other the very next day as they waited for the next instalment in the saga of organic molecule formation, and not only was Alexandra friendly, enquiring about how he was, but she didn’t even mention the erratic behaviour of the previous night. Ben was shocked. He was used to people holding grudges inde nitely whenever you make a mistake or upset them, ignoring you or having a dig at you for many years to come, whereas Alexandra seemed to have forgotten it all overnight. How could she be so forgiving and understanding?

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences 17

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True Church Ben was awoken from this vivid recollection by Ovidiu’s voice. 'Are you ok?' The sickness and faintness had passed and so Ben was able to give an af rmative response. 'I’m ne.' Ovidiu helped him to his feet. Ben dusted himself off as if it had been nothing and set his face to move onwards, spurred on by the memory of this strange forgiveness that he wanted to get to the bottom of. They wound their way through a series of back streets until a de nitive right turn into a little road, a bit further up which they arrived at the church building. Once again it wasn’t quite what Ben had been expecting. The church was wedged in between other buildings. There was a gate, not much of a courtyard in contrast to the spacious area before the Orthodox church and then steps, somewhat steeper than those of the Orthodox church, which led up to the church’s entrance. Ben readily ascended them, this time without the reluctant uncertainty that he had felt at the other Church. This time he sensed that he was in the right place. Ovidiu was obviously on home ground and quickly darted in through the door, then sharp right and into the church sanctuary, but taking after this another left turn up a few steps to a raised seating platform at the back of the church. Ben hadn’t seen anything like this before and thought that maybe it was so that the church leaders could see better who was sleeping or otherwise not paying attention at the back of the church. In any case, it didn’t deter Ovidiu and he quickly found what was presumably his usual seat. Ben sat down next to him.

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The church was large. Ben pondered how many people would t in. It was hard to tell. He was tempted to do a quick estimate, but his attention was quickly drawn by something unexpected. Either his Romanian had fast improved or a miracle had taken place, but Ben realised that the person speaking from the front was intelligible. Ben did a double-take and then it occurred to him why. The man was American! 'And so today I want to speak to you about the Prodigal son,' said the preacher in a noticeable southern American drawl. 'Și azi vreau să vă vorbesc despre ul risipitor,' came the translation. Could it be a double piece of divine providence? Ben had not only entered the church at the precise moment when the sermon was starting, but it was also a sermon being delivered in a language he could understand. Maybe Ovidiu knew about this and had planned it all along or, perhaps, it was just the way it was meant to be. The American preacher skilfully and beautifully told the story of the Prodigal son, a boy who left home with his share of his Father’s wealth and squandered it in wild living. Once the money had run out, he lost his friends and ended up taking care of some pigs. As so many do, when he got into trouble and suffering he then started to think about the deeper things of life. He realised that it was much better back at his Father’s home. Even if he had behaved in such a bad way, he decided to return, expecting that he might just be allowed back, but not as a son anymore, instead as a hired worker. Maybe that way he could repay some of what he had wasted. However, to his surprise, as he is approaching his home village, his father sees him from a distance and runs to him, embracing him and fully accepting him back as a son. He offers gifts and even throws a party that the whole village can come to! In the same way, explained the preacher, we too have all separated from God to live our lives as we please, but with his wealth. However, if we realise our mistake, come to our senses and get up and return to Him, he will receive us back and make us a child of His, and all this is a free gift. We don’t have to do anything to earn it or repay our sins.

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Towards the end of the sermon, as captivating as it was, Ben’s mind began to wonder. He pictured the last moment when he had seen Alexandra. It was at their graduation ceremony. She had gotten a rst-class degree and was off to Cambridge to become a researcher. Ben hadn’t quite hit those heights. He had got an upper second, also respectable, but he felt like he could have done better, if it wasn’t for all the turbulent thoughts that had been going through his mind. He’d started to wonder what the point of everything was. Even if he got a good degree and then a good job and then a family and so on, it was still going to end one day, and then what? And what did any of these things mean, as pleasant and nice as they were, if ultimately one day he would be gone and forgotten. Indeed, when he was gone where would he be? He couldn’t contemplate not existing anymore. Such weighty thoughts, had greatly distracted him from his studies. He’d read some books and watched some lms, but hadn’t yet found any answers. One day, just before the graduation ceremony, it had occurred to him that maybe he should just ask Alexandra. She seemed to have it all worked out and whatever she had he wanted. Graduation after all might be the last time he saw her and so he didn’t want to miss this last chance. The moment came then. Both with degree certi cates in hand and wearing owing black gowns and funny square topped hats, he approached her to say goodbye. ‘Alexandra, I just wanted to congratulate you on your rst and wish you all the best at Cambridge.’ ‘Thanks. You too for whatever you now do.’ ‘Thanks. There was one thing I wanted to ask.’ ‘Yes, what?’ Ben poised himself, not quite sure how to say it, in spite of a number of rehearsals. ‘I’ve noticed there is something different about you and I would like to know what?’

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She looked kind of embarrassed and reluctant to speak. After a few moments though, she gathered herself. ‘When I was little, I met Jesus at my church in Romania. He gave me life and now I live for Him!’ was her bold af rmation. Ben was taken a back. Jesus had died more than 2000 years ago, so what was He doing walking around Romania and visiting churches there? Ben would have liked to have asked more questions to examine Alexandra’s statement, but he was denied the chance. She seemed a little hesitant to speak anyway, but, some older people who were presumably her parents, called her over to have some photos taken. She said bye and wished Ben all the best and she was gone. Ben considered trying to follow up later, but decided that he’d heard what he needed. He was left with lingering thoughts in his mind about Romania. Little did he know that he would also meet Jesus there one day.

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Moldovan Meanderings This book is the embellishment of some of my experiences in Romania and Moldova. If you would be interested in ďŹ nding out more, try clicking on the link below!Â Learn more

Moldovan Meanderings: Reminiscences18

Romania Reminiscences Part Two My name is Aidan. I have lived for a number of years in Romania and Moldova. This was God's plan for me. You can nd out more: Facebook or Blog

Romania Reminiscences part two

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Romania Reminiscences