The Beginning

Buna ziua. I have now been living in Bucharest for the last six weeks and plan to be here for another five. I am, as you so easily guessed, an American in Bucharest. The purpose of this blog is to lay down my thoughts of this travel experience, and hopefully many of you will find it interesting. I say this because I have traveled a lot in my time, and have always been fascinated by what other cultures say about the U.S., its government and its people. To be honest, it wasn’t always nice, but it was always fascinating. So now, I shall do the same, live my life in Bucharest and be honest about the things I do, people I meet, and experiences I have. For you, as well as for me, I shall provide the good, the bad and the ugly (though, there has not been any ugly yet). In honesty, the only ugly moments I have had has been dealing with my bank back in the States. It claims to be the world’s local bank, yet somehow they can’t seem to get their cards to work in Bucharest ATMs; so much for local neighbors.

Perhaps the first thing I should talk about is how pleasant and kind Romanians seem. I arrived in Bucharest, back on January 6, and had no place to live. My family back home, my friends, and my soon to be co-workers all expressed concern about a lack of living space. My plan was simple: I would rent a hostel bed for four nights (running only a few euro a night), search out the newspapers and Internet ads, set up appointments to see flats, and rent one (hopefully near where I’d spend most of my time). However, this did not occur. After talking to the owner of the hostel for an hour (Christian), he told me that he, too, was looking for a new place to live (seems his former French roommates decided they couldn’t handle the winter in Romania). Christian told me to come back in an hour and he’d have more time to show me where to look. Needless to say, I went wandering for a few hours and returned to be invited to rent one of the rooms he had to offer. After a quick look at the place, I decided, “Hey, why not. Its clean, he seems like an honest person, and the price is right for the neighborhood.” Also, he told me I could use the mobile phone the hostel owned as long as I was in Bucharest. So, after only being in Romania for approximately six hours, I had stumbled onto a flat, a flat mate and a phone. Some people seem to think this a little crazy, but it has been five weeks and the living arrangements are fantastic. Christian has pointed out different things to do in the city and has made several suggestions of where I should go outside of the city. It was a large gift of generosity, and good luck, to meet someone looking for help at the same time. It is merely one example of the niceness and kindness that Romanians have shown me.

But if deciding to live with a Romania, after knowing them only a few hours, seems crazy, I have met many other people who have shown to be excellent people. I met Anca; she works with HIV/AIDS victims in Romania; helping to ensure they receive medicine and fair treatment from the law. There is Marushka, who invited several people over for a party and a celebration, though barely knowing most of them. She went to Australia, deciding to be brave and venture out into the world and wished to celebrate. There is the little shopkeeper near to my flat. I’ll say she did not seem to like me at all when I first showed up; I spoke no Romanian and required the price to be written down to figure out how much money to give her. Now though, having taken a few language classes (which I should mention is definitely Latin based, but you already knew that and I speak it worse than a two-year-old), she smiles at me with my little attempt at conversation. “Buna Seara; multsumesc; la revedere” and being able to slightly understand the prices when she says them to me. Are there bad people, you ask? So far…no. There are annoying situations (taxis that don’t meter when you sit down or the occasional prostitute who won’t go away) and odd sights (seeing grumpy old people becoming children for a second sliding on ice), but overall people have been helpful and willing to lend a little hand. Using broken Romanian, I have been able to get directions and not be hated. In Moscow, using correct written Russian at a train station led to a yelling match between the ticket lady and the gentleman behind me. He won and I got a ticket, but there were no nice words for him to say about her as a Russian and a person. I have not seen that here and hopefully I won’t.

So there you have it, blog one done. Keep in touch and let me know if you have any questions, see if I can answer them.