Xaide’s Blog

There’s too much to say after such a tremendous experience. So much that I’ll rather live another short and condensed experience than pull my strength together and type the damn thoughts. But let me first say that I didn’t by all means try to have any experience in Bucharest. My only concern was to stay clean and to pass the exams in my Business master. (I did pass the exams, as I found out later this week.)

I got there Friday night. A friend of my father was waiting for me. We talked about Supply Chain Management, which is kind of one of my favorite subjects when it comes to operations. The exams worked out really fine. Five of them in less than 3h. I almost got stuck in the building because someone decided to close one section of it.

Then I met an old acquaintance, talked, ate salmon in a restaurant located in an old house, with looks resembling a medieval boyar home. We watched Goya’s Ghosts and took a walk in a near-by park. We exchanged thoughts of life while in the background three youths were demonstrating their guitar and singing abilities, and if I may say so, I got really impressed by their sight. The girl was fresh, that would be the word. Blond, blue eyed, short hair, perfect skin, white dress and turquoise nail polish. One of the boys was black-haired, had a cunning look, glittering eyes, sharp movements and eagerness to draw attention. They might have been lovers, once upon a time, or presently trying and not succeeding. I was surprised that the moment I and my friend got into the picture, their faces and attitudes changed. Maybe it’s because I too was wearing turquoise, in the form of my dress and a shell pendant. Maybe it’s because I too had a cunning look, glittering eyes and impatience. Either way, their image got stuck into my brain and it will remain there as a moving picture, with the fresh smell of a young girl and the eagerness to explore of a young man.

I learned three great things from my acquaintance:

- sometimes, not being straight forward is a quality

- it is a general truth that when you care about someone you act like an idiot

- “After a certain age, quantity becomes quality” - referring to people who have a lot of relationships

I hope I’ll never reach that age. If the only way to increase your experiences is incremental, then there is far too much work involved and you might as well do nothing - what you got up to now is huge compared to some discrete low number. We drank wine, exchanged life stories and I got a feeling of victory as I was walked home and as I fell asleep. After all, I had finished the academic year with great success and I had had a beautiful time afterwards, without even planning it. The next day I consumed that victory while shopping at Zara and Mango - can’t blame me for being in love with beauty at all levels, can you?

On Monday I went sight-seeing. And that’s where the surprises start in an avalanche.

People usually say that Bucharest smells like shit. I used to think that was a metaphor. It’s not. There are plenty of people who walk around in the first district with that smell attached to them. Actually, that is one of the things that intrigued me the most, how for example, in Cismigiu Park, a homeless fat man fell asleep and 6-7 benches away a young business man takes some fresh air. How some supposedly fancy girls look with contempt and false superiority and one alley later a guy smiles or even waves to you. How across the street from a new business building, all steel and glass, is and old ruined house with a color that speaks of the different layers of dust that it witnessed across time. Bucharest is a place for diversity at all levels.

Politeness is a big issue in this city and it’s also something that I will have to discuss by comparing three characters. The first one is probably a drug addict that used to be handsome and smart but now was homeless and ill of some serious disease(s) that made him have stains on his skin and lose weight. He approached me theatrically while I was walking on “Calea Victoriei”, with his arms wide open and with a smile that was sincere in his happiness. Probably, he had thought that I was rich, since that boulevard houses a lot of expensive clothing stores with bags that reach 5000 lei and crappy clothes that cost 200 times their value. I think that because as he got to me he asked me for 5 lei for a homeless dude, yet he would not answer who that homeless dude was, if he was part of an association or give any details for that matter. He also asked if I had a passion for photography, since I was taking pictures. As I said that I am just taking pictures of Bucharest, he curiously replied “oh! How’s the countryside then?” He didn’t stop with the insults there. Learning that I was from Iasi, he said to me “You’re not as beautiful as I’d thought Moldavian girls are”. He did request informally for a date though, for some chit-chat in a coffee shop, but it was clear that I would be able to pay and he wouldn’t. He most probably got out of the conversation disappointed, since I didn’t answer mischievously to any of his remarks. What did impress me about this character, despite his rudeness, was his courage, his will to survive and the fact that he was ashamed of the stains on his skin as I noticed them and tried to draw attention to his face instead.

The second guy was the person that served at the restaurant I ate during that day. It was hot, so I drank Carlsberg draught and ate beef soup with vegetables. As I had finished my meal and got to the half of my beer, I paid a visit to the little girls’ room. I returned only to find my table occupied by complete strangers and the dishes I ate in and my beer gone. I wasn’t away for more than 5 minutes, so I wonder, how freaked out must you be as a waiter to clean the table although the customer hasn’t paid yet? It remains a complete mystery to me. But I did get a second beer for free.

The third one is a simple man, the type we Romanians call “manelist” or “cocalar”. As I was heading back home and took a public transport vehicle, I noticed that this guy was staring at me. So I looked back in anger since my short skirt which isn’t as short as his female counterparts wear, is not an excuse for people drooling at my sight. The next stop someone got off and I could sit down. Then a woman with a child got in and as she was trying to get a seat and I was thinking about Bucharest and day dreaming, the simple man comes to me, punches my back and shouts in anger of me not letting the woman sit in my place. Luckily for my tired feet, the woman got another seat in no-time, and of course, also to the benefit of the argument. This guy was clearly a frustrated animal, the worst kind, the type I would never, NEVER, want to meet again.

It should also be said that I encountered a lot of polite people too: some that gave me directions; some shop vendors that answered to uncomfortable questions with respect and saluted just the same; some that smiled and said beautiful things.

Otherwise, Bucharest is a place I might want to live in. Tall buildings, a lot of art and ideas floating around and permanent change. But we shall talk about that in another blog post.

On my way back, I made sure I felt good by buying a book I felt reflected me a lot, in thoughts and writing style to say the least - Ion Manolescu “Derapaj”. The author lives in and talks about Bucharest in his book. (Un)fortunately my attention got heavily distracted by a character that sat in front of me the whole trip to Iasi I took by train. I will not be able to comment on that last experience, but it is enough to say that it assured me again that Bucharest is a source of diversity and of unlimited and strange opportunities.

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