Romania (02/04/08-07/04/08)

After three weeks of hemming and hawing, I decided early Wednesday morning to head to Romania. Sami and I tried to change the tickets after she fractured her hand in Berlin, but the change cost more than the original tickets were worth, so, after much drunken prompting by my friend, Dana, I decided to go alone. Dana's girlfriend, Carla, had given me a "Learn Romanian" book, which I'd only cracked open on Tuesday (waiting in "line" at the Ministry of the Interior). The grammar and some of the vocabulary was similar enough to most of the other languages I've learned, but the vowel sounds seemed a bit difficult. Luckily, I sat next to a Romanian woman on the plane (who turned out to be my neighbour) who coached me through the various ways to pronounce "a's" and "i's". She was also fluent in English, French and Italian. She made a list of foods I absolutely had to try, and told me three times to "be careful with luggage". When we landed in Bucharest, I headed for the bus into town. I boarded the bus, and tried to pay, but the driver just kept saying, "Da, da", and ushering me onto the bus. I looked at some Spanish men, waiting to get on, and they told me, "Don't be a fool! He's letting you on for free! Get on the bus!" So I did. It was the beginning of a holiday full of free bus rides. I sat next to some students from Boston (who had also been on the plane with me from Madrid), and we compared pronunciation notes and travel plans. I was planning on taking a 1 a.m. bus to Constanta on the Black Sea. It was Sami's idea, and as I didn't know diddely-squat about Romania, it sounded like a good one to me. There were going to stay in Bucharest for a couple of days, and then head to Constanta to catch a bus to Varna, in Bulgaria. That sounded like a good idea, too. While we were riding into town, we noticed that two of the three lanes of traffic on either side of the median had been blocked off, and that cops were standing on every corner. "NATO," I said. At least there would probably be fewer pickpockets on the streets. I disembarked at Piata Romana because it looked like the first place we saw with some nightlife. I changed some cash, and looked for a place to eat. I saw a rather hip, young man walking down the street, so I decided to follow him. But when I saw him enter a place called "Mon Amour" I kept walking. Everyone in there was eating ice cream and french fries, and the dance music was too loud. I found a Turkish fast food joint, and little else. I walked back to the corner where I'd left hipster boy. That's when I saw the bright neon "Benihana's" sign beckoning me. I can't remember the last time I went to Benihana's. My mother used to take me there every year for my birthday for their Japanese goodness. Now, there I was, standing in downtown Bucharest in front of the first Benihana's I'd seen in over two years, at 10:30 at night, the day before my birthday. I had to go in. But something stood in my way. Something much bigger than you or I. It was NATO. To access the Benihana's, you had to go through the Howard Johnson hotel. And the hotel entrance was swarming with policeman and black cars. NATO. I walked over to see if the Benihana's had a separate entrance, but I couldn't even get close enough. There were traffic cops in the street because every two minutes, some diplomat would be rushed from the airport to the Howard Johnson in three black cars with police escorts. I decided Benihana's was out of the question. I also decided I'd been standing on the same street corner long enough to arouse police suspicion, and that if I didn't make a move quickly, some cop would come over, question me, open my guitar case, and spill my underwear all over the streets of Bucharest. So I joined hipster boy in Mon Amour (Str. Mihai Eminescu, nr. 17, Sector 1). I found an empty table, sat down, and ordered a beer. I considered eating there, but I didn't really want my first Romania meal to be a burger with fries. So I just settled back to enjoy the beer and watch the football match on TV. I noticed people were staring at me. Not the sort of the-saloon-goes-quiet-and-the-piano-player-folds-up-and-the-dog-goes-outside kind of staring. Just a curious stare. One man actually leaned way over in his seat to get a glimpse, nay, a good long look at me. It was the beginning of a holiday full of staring. I ignored them, drank my beer, and eventually they decided I was somewhat normal. When I'd almost finished my glass, the waiter came over and refilled it for me (with the beer I had left in the bottle). "What service!" I thought. When I finished my beer, I went out in search of food. I walked in what I thought was the direction of the train station. Bucharest reminds me of Las Vegas: neon lights, casinos, and sex clubs. After about 20 minutes of walking, I found the only open restaurant (that wasn't serving only burgers, fries, or doner), Pita Pita (B-dul Corneliu Coposu, nr. 1A Piata Unirii). I ordered a gyro. I asked the waiter if I was close to the train station, and he told me I was about 20 minutes away. But he said it wouldn't be a problem to take a cab. It was about 12:30, and the train left at 1:30 in the morning. Before I finished eating, the cashier came over and told me, "We have a driver. He could take you the train station, but you must give him something." "How much?" I asked. "20 lei." "No problem." I finished eating and paid. The cashier said, "The driver doesn't speak English, so is there anything you want to tell him?" "Just take me to Gare du Nord." As most of the tunnels were closed because of NATO, we had to take the scenic route. We passed by the palace, and through some gritty neighbourhoods. Once you leave the main downtown boulevards, Bucharest starts to looke more like the Ninth Ward than Vegas. Dilapidated houses and tons of stray dogs and cats. We drove along, trying to communicate in signs and monosyllabic words, listening to the radio (all about NATO). We arrived at the train station, but the driver didn't have change for 50 lei. Luckily, I was able to pay him in euros. I'd read somewhere that you have to pay to enter the train station if you don't have a ticket. So I ignored all of the people saying, "Bona sera, excuse me!" and walked straight to the ticket booth. I asked for a ticket to Constanta. The next train wasn't leaving until 7am. The clerk told me the place to board the trains was in another building (which is probably where you have to pay the 3 lei entrance fee), behind the McDonald's (which is prominently mentioned in everything I'd read about Gare du Nord). "Do you have a place to stay in town?" "No." She assumed I was going to spend the night in the train station. I only had six hours to kill, and with all those sex clubs I'd seen around town, I was sure I could spend them in some bar. "Be careful with your luggage," she whispered. "Multumesc," I said, and walked out to find a cab. I hopped in the first cab I saw, and said, "Discotheque! Bere (beer)!" "Da, da!" said the driver. "Dancing?" "Yes!" He took me right back to Piata Romana. "Aici!" he said, pointing to one of the bright sex club neon signs. Maybe it's my short hair, but I couldn't figure out why he would think a young woman would want to go to a seedy sex club at one in the morning. "Nu! Nu!" I shouted. "Bere! Nu sex club!" "Da!" he said, and stopped the cab about ten meters away in front of an "Irish" pub. There were a bunch of young Romanian hipsters smoking outside. I paid him, and went in. I went up the stairs, and left my guitar and jacket at the coat check. I found the bar, ordered my first birthday whiskey, and sat down at an empty table. Things to note: 1) They had 2 DJs 2) They were playing Nelly's (not Furtado) hit 3) (almost) Everyone was dancing 4) The VIP setions were full 5) The people at the VIP sections had bottles of liquor on their table After Nelly, the DJs switched to Rob Base, Black Box, Duffy, and some dirty version of "Everybody Dance Now" I'd never heard before. I settled in for a good night of people-watching. I assessed the crowd. Right behind me were two couples, dancing and drinking champagne. The prize of the night, though, was Mr. Salmon Sweater. I never once saw him sit down. He was a good dancer, but something was awkward. The rhythm was right, but the moves didn't go together. The upper part of his body was all David Hasselhof, and the lower part was all Michael Jackson. Still he was mesmerising. His girlfriend thought so, too. I wanted to talk to someone, maybe even dance, but I wasn't sure how to work my way into the VIP couples group, and I knew Mr. Hasselhof wasn't up for talking. I spotted a group of women partying by themselves, and decided to approach them. "Hello! It's my birthday!" That was all it took. Moments later, we were all toasting, introducing ourselves, and dancing. They were four lawyers, and through a mixture of English, French, and Spanish, we danced the night away. After we left "The Downtown", we walked to a cafe. We begged the waiters to let me play guitar, and I gave an impromtu concert. I bet some guy we'd picked up at the bar one of my CDs that I wouln't lose my guitar before my trip was over. Then I caught a cab back to the train station. I found my seat on the train, and went to sleep. When I woke up, I looked out of the window to find horse-drawn carriages, vineyards, and a ton of garbage. I was sharing my cabin with a man named Bone, who lives in the north of Romania. He's a captain on a ship, and spend most of his time sailing across the world. For the next hour and a half, he told me all about his country, and the best places to visit/stay in Constanta. He even gave me a banana for breakfast. We arrived, said our goodbyes, and, on his recommendation, I set out to find the hotel/restaurant La Protap. I said, "Nu multumesc" to all the taxi drivers, and headed to the bus stop. I found the first bus driver I saw, and asked "Unde este La Protap?" He didn't know, but he managed to find out. "Stand here, and wait for bus 100" he said. I waited for two minutes, while he boarded his bus (number 100), and drove over to pick me up. "Three stops", he said. I gave him the 1 lei fare, and boarded the bus. This was the first and only time I paid for a bus ride during my trip. There are two front doors on the buses in Constanta - one to access the driver's booth, and another to access the seats. If the driver doesn't open their door, there's no way to pay them. We drove along, and I had my first look at Constanta. More West Vegas than downtown - lots of brown buildings in need of paint jobs, tons of cash exchange places (so many, you can't distinguish them from the other stores), and tired people walking. After the second stop, I stood up. "Nu! Nu!" said a woman with a baby sitting in front of me. Apparently, she'd been paying attention the entire time. "Unu mai" and she motioned for me to sit down. When we'd gone a little further, she pointed out of the window to La Protap. "Aici". I thanked her, and disembarked. I waltzed into La Protap (B-dil 1 Decembrie 1918, Nr. 12) - the hotel is called Hotel Balada NEJ, and La Protap is the restaurant - to find there were no rooms available. But the smells of roasting meat coming from the restaurant were too hard to resist. The receptionist booked me a room at another hotel, but I decided to have lunch there. "I'll be in the restaurant, so if there are any cancellations, please come tell me!" The entire place is decked out like a hunting lodge. I ordered the hunter's cold cut plate - wild boar, deer and bear - and a cabbage salad. Happy palate. After eating, I went back into the lobby. "I'm still here!" "Good. I have room for you." I booked a room for one night (165 lei = 42 euros), and went to take a nap. I awoke in one of the comfiest hotel rooms ever. I had two beds, a balcony, cable TV, a boot horn and a bathtub! I took a bath, and watched some TV. Then I had to figure out what to do for dinner. I'd been in Romania almost 24 hours, and I hadn't eaten anything on my suggested list. So I went out in search of ciorba de burta, or tripe soup. Neighbourhood restaurants are few and far between there. Most of the restaurants are in the tourist part of town, which I was trying to avoid. After walking around for half an hour, I asked a man on the street where I could find soup. He sent me to a fast food colony near the sea. I walked past the fast food places and found a restaurant called Tineretului. The place looked rather empty, but the waitresses debated over whether or not to serve me. Good cop waitress won, and showed me to a table. They didn't have a menu - they only served one plate. There was one other person eating in my section. I approached him and asked if I could look at his food. He was very frightened and confused, but the stuff on his plate looked good, so I ordered one, too. There was a band playing in the restaurant: two singers, a keyboard player, and a karaoke machine. I noticed there was another section in the back of the restaurant that was full of sharply-dressed women and men. The band started in with some toe-tapping Romanian hits, and I nodded my head along. The food came - stewed meat and polenta, covered in a fried egg and fresh, grated cheese. It was delicious! The bass and keyboard players in the band went to sit down at a table, leaving the two women to sing along with the karaoke machine. During song breaks, one woman sang Celine Dion and Whitney Houston hits a capella. She didn't speak English, so she just made up the words. She had a nice voice. The other singer was an Abba fan. I can't stand Abba, but as they were the only songs they sang in English, I sang along from my table. This excited them to no end. They sang four more Abba songs, prefacing each one with "Especial, for you!" while pointing to me. At some point during the meal, a rather charming five-year old girl came up to me with some brown roses. "100 lei," she said, which was five times the price of my dinner. I was pretty sure she meant 1 lei, so I tried to find the freshest looking brown rose to buy. I picked one, and she repeated, "100 lei!" I reached in my pocket and pulled out one lei. "Nu! Nu! 100 lei" she said, stonefaced. I laughed and tried to explain I wasn't about to pay 40 euro for a brown rose. She just took her flower and walked out of the restaurant, unaccompanied. Shortly thereafter, the waitress came up to me with the bill. "It's over," she said. I don't know if I was being kicked out because I'd offended the five-year old girl, or because of the mafia party they were having in the back of the restaurant. Either way, I paid my bill, waved goodbye to the band, and headed to the Ibis hotel to bowl. The hotel had a room downstairs with three bowling lanes. I had the entire place to myself. Everyone else was in the billiard room. I asked the attendant where people go to party on a Thursday night. He said, "This is it!" So I bowled about five games while he brought me free birthday drinks. The next day I went on a walking tour of Constanta. I walked around downtown, went to the stadium to watch the rugby team practice, walked around the lake, then to the beach. It was quiet and peaceful. The hillside was full of garbage and tents where people live. I considered swimming, but the water was freezing, and I didn't want to be arrested in Romania for skinny-dipping in the middle of the afternoon. I found a restaurant Bone recommended near the port (On Plonge, Port Tomis), and had a wonderful lunch: ciorba de burta and scrumbie la gratar, or grilled herring. Then I went to the National History and Archaeology Musuem. The archaeological exhibition on the first floor was translated into French, German and English. There were tons of Roman artifcats. The second floor hosted the untranslated historical exhibition. I tried to learn as much as I could, but my Romanian isn't that good. If anyone knows anything about Ioan Roman, let me know. After leaving the museum, I walked back to the hotel to take a nap, but not before buying some hot buns from the bakery and some mititei (small, skinless, grilled sausages). I had a mellow evening watching "Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman" reruns. On Saturday, I took the train to Mangalia, a nearby town. I walked from the train station to the center of town, and realised I was only 11km away from Bulgaria! I considered taking a cab there, or even walking, but I'd left my passport at the hotel. So I found a flea market, and bought a fishing pole, twine, hooks, a pocket knife, and bait. I headed out to the ocean to fish. I found a nice spot on the rocks and was soon joined by two ten-year old boys who didn't know how to use their cast reel. They kept getting it tangled up in something. I showed them how to use the pole, and we fished until they got bored. We didn't catch anything, but we had a fun time. After they left, I gave my fishing supplies to another group of boys who were hiding in the rocks smoking and drinking beer. Them, in broken English: "Why?" Me, in broken Romanian: "I can't take it with me on the plane." Them: No plane here. Go to Bucarest." Me: "I live in Spain." Them: "Oh, yes, then! Plane in Bucarest." Me: "Um......this is a present for you." Them: "Present?!" Me: "Yes!" Them: "Thank you! Thank you!" I walked around until I found an internet cafe/restaurant/bar (Lavrion). I made friends with the bartender, and later, the owner. They kept me happy with free food and beer, and let me sample their homemade palinca, or plum liquor. Don't try this stuff without a chaperone. It's very good, but VERY strong. After sipping on one tiny shot glass for half an hour, I practically had to be escorted to the bus stop right in front of the bar. I fell asleep at the bus stop, missing my bus back to Constanta. Luckily, another one came along in ten minutes. When I got back to Constanta, I headed to the hotel restaurant for a final birthday blowout meal. I ordered a bottle of wine and the meat special: deer in blackberry sauce, pork in cream and mushroom sauce, and stag in gravy. Two hours later I went to my room to dream about the deer in blackberry sauce. One week later I was still dreaming about deer in blackberry sauce... On Sunday I took the train back to Bucharest. Midway during the trip I went to the restaurant car for food. The restaurant car is identical to all the other cars, except there's a guy with a cooler and boxes of potato chips and sandwiches. I bought some chips and an iced tea, and went back to my seat. I noticed there were four empty seats directly behind mine, so I stretched out there to enjoy my lunch. A short while later, an elderly man wearing a leather beret came up to the seat. He became very nervous upon seeing me, and started wringing his hands and looking out of the window, his brow furrowed. I don't know if one of the two seats I was occupying was his, but he didn't say anything. After a full minute, he managed to slide into the seats facing mine and sit down. He stared at me for about fifteen minutes, before deciding I was harmless. Then he settled off to sleep. I had nine hours to kill in Bucharest before catching my flight, so I decided to take a bus tour of the town. I hopped on busses, picked a person to follow, and got off the bus whenever they got off the bus. I saw a large part of the town this way. It was pretty depressing. The buildings are in poor condition, and most everyone looks very sad. I accidentally rode one bus to the end of the line. There was NOTHING around, save for an overpass and a forest. The driver was nice enough to let me stay on the bus while he rested, and then we drove back into town. For some reason, after riding the bus for free during my entire stay in Romania, I decided to try to buy a bus ticket to the airport from a kiosk. The ticket was seven lei, and I only had five lei left. i told the woman at the kiosk I would go change some euros and come back to buy a ticket. But it was raining quite hard, and, for once, I didn't see a cash exchange place around. So, one last time, I boarded a bus without paying. Aside from the power outage at the airport while I was going through security, the rest of the trip was pretty uneventful. I arrived in Madrid early Monday morning, went home, and dreamt of deer in blackberry sauce.