Day 4: Bucuresti

I wake up early this morning. I'm feeling like I have a little cold.
I have breakfast.
I eat Romanian bread.
With Romanian gem de caise.

And Romanian cereal
With Romanian milk

Asa.

I write in my blog. I talk with Delia C. She says I can go to the big Communist Palace if I get there before 16.00. I take a little nap. I head over on the subway to a stop that I can't remember now. I get out and it's very peaceful and lovely to me.
Not crowded. Just serene. I walk to the Palace. "Passport?" "Nu." "I'm sorry, you must have original passport." I didn't bring it with me, so I can't go in. Quelle dommage. I walk out, sit down in the park for a smoke, call Gerrit on the phone and then get back on the subway and head over to Piata Victoriei, big commercial center. My camera died. It's a huge Piata. There is no way to cross directly through the intersection. It's started raining. I walk around. It's lovely and huge. IT STARTS HAILING! I run into the metro station with some other pedestrians. Wait for it to stop. I head out, walk around the whole square. Look for some tea. Find a little place with an American name. Struggle with ordering. Have some tea. I'm drenched. I go home. Didn't really know what to look for.

On the way back I stop in the store and ask for an umbrella. "Vorbiti engleza?" "Engleza? Nu." "Stiti dumneavoastra unde pot sa cumpar un *signal with my hands umbrella*?" At MegaImage, they say. I later learn that umbrella is the same word in Romanian. I go back to the apartment, talk to Delia. It's my last night in Bucharest. She invites me to attend a round table discussion, with business people and marketers to help with discuss how to help an NGO (Non-Government Organization) that helps low-income mothers not to abandon their children by giving them jobs making jewelry. It is therapeutic for them, and also can provide a couple of the mothers with an income. I run to the grocery store because going to meet her. They don't have umbrellas at MegaImage, by the way, but I buy some sandwiches and a croissant for my journey tomorrow. I run home, then run out again. I meet Delia at Piata Romana. We walk to a little cafe called Music Rooms. There I'm greeted by a bunch of really inspiring Romanians and one Israeli guy who's in the same boat as me language-wise. They say that they cannot present the conversation this evening in "CNN version" (that's what they call presenting something in English). So it's all in Romanian, but Delia translates for me. The group who helps the mothers make the jewelry is called Touched Romania, and you can visit their website at www.touchedromania.org. They were really inspiring, and what was even more heartening was that a group of socially-conscious people had gotten together to help them discuss how to network and develop their business. The second part of the discussion separated into two groups. My group ended up being in English, which was foarte frumos. We stayed there for a good 3 hours, I would say. I bought a little piece of jewelry, and gave them my info. FOR MY ENTIRE STAY IN BUCURESTI I HAVE BEEN SURROUNDED BY HUNDREDS OF PEOPLE TRYING TO MAKE A POSITIVE SOCIAL CHANGE IN THIS COUNTRY, AND ACTUALLY DOING SOMETHING. I'm very blessed.

Delia and I run the catch the last metro. She is extremely kind and gives me a Romanian film, a guidebook, and a book of poems from Mihai Eminescu. I feel stupid for not thinking to get her a gift. I want to cry saying goodbye. She has been so kind and hospitable to me, and put me in contact with so many good people. I can't repay you! I hope that you really do come to Chicago!

I take the metro home to Iancului for the last time, eat some more Romanian cereal and Romanian milk, because we didn't have time for dinner. Rush around re-packing my bags. What will I need for tomorrow? I'm a little nervous about the train ride. I have to be up at 06.00. Cami is picking me up at 06.45. Tomorrow I am for Cluj-Napoca and the Visky family, cu trenul!!!

Day 3: Bucuresti

Wake up at 3pm today. I was up late writing, trying to get everything down. Feel like I'm not quite doing it justice, but it's okay. And I was tired from the dancing! I shouldn't have slept so late but oh well. I call Delia, we're going to meet once I take a shower and get ready. I take the subway again by myself. Another adventure. I feel so much more confident walking down the street now, so that's good. I get to the Dristor II metro stop. Waiting for her there, a man approaches me and asks me how to get to Unu Decembrie. "Vorbiti ingleza?" "Nu" "Imi pare rau" I think afterwards, I should have tried harder. I had gone to Unu Decembrie and I had a map on me, but oh well. I wait for her, she calls me. "Come to the other Dristor." I walk over to Dristor I. We go again to the Universitate stop. She's called all of the theatres in town, and only one has tickets, but maybe we can get tickets to the operetta. We are by the Teatru National. We go in to the Ion Dacian Teatru National de Opereta. They have tickets for a musical version of Romeo and Juliet, but for over 100 lei. She says that she would almost never pay that much. We walk over to the Teatrul Foarte Mic. They are playing Ca Pe Tine Insuti. When I see Foarte Mic, I am excited. Very Small. I want to go here. We go in to get tickets. They cost 20 lei a piece. Delia won't let me pay for anything. She is too generous! I hassle her, and we laugh about it. "Don't make me feel poor." It's a running joke from when she was overseas. The lady at the ticket counter is kind of rude to me. A man sitting there laughs and says that the play is in Romanian. I thought it would be in Farsi. "El inselege putin." We get the tickets and go. I tell her that I'd like a little coffee and a snack before the play. On the walk, we come across a man selling books on the sidewalk. I stop, want to by a book. I ask for Enescu, and he shows me Ionescu but I really want Eminescu. Once we have that sorted out, the old man starts looking for a book of Eminescu poems, and his (somewhat) younger friend/helper/hanger-on/who knows starts up a conversation with us. He finds out I'm American and has a field day. He says something then says to Delia, "Tell him." "He wants to know why are there people sleeping on the streets in America?" "He says that the American economy will crash." "He says that German is a dead language." "There are many Mexicans in America." "There's a millionaire Jewish mayor in New York, but black people sleep on the street." I try to speak to him in Romanian, but he says I should speak in English. "Dar vreau sa vorbesc romaneste." He's rude. I don't know, leave me alone. He's aggressive towards me because I'm an American. How can I explain to him why there are people sleeping on the streets. I want to leave but the old man has made a real effort to find this Eminescu collection, so we feel obliged to stay. He comes up with a book of prose. It costs 20 lei. It costs the same as the theatre ticket. I ask Delia if this is normal. 20 lei is a little more than 6 dollars. She says yes it's right. I think it's strange that it's the same price as the ticket. I buy the book, and we leave. We walk around over by the restaurant where we went on the first night. It's a really beautiful area. We go into the Painerie and I get a croissant cu unt. Then we go to the coffee place. Delia orders for me, but I talk to the cashier. "Espresso?" "Cafea." "Espresso." The girl is mean, rolls her eyes at me. I guess they don't have coffee, they just have espresso. How should I know? Delia doesn't drink coffee, so she isn't sure. I pick up the Espresso at the counter. I say Multumesc. Grumble Grumble from behind the counter. Delia laughs. I ask her why. What did the girl say? "She didn't say anything, that's why I laughed, because she was so rude and I was planning to tell you that." Three strikes in a row. It makes me a little frustrated. We talk about the state of customer service in Romania. I've already heard from Laima and various people about how mean these people can be. I'm told that it's even worse in the state run agencies. Apparently they treat you like YOU are in THEIR service, and you're doing a poor job so they must punish you for it. Delia and I talk about it. I'm feeling sort of angry, but furthermore I'm feeling a little bit inspired. I want to do a project about this. I want to do a piece about this. There is a (I'm sure very tangled) social structure that's creating this unhappiness, this hopelessness in these people. They are nasty, and they need compassion. Art creates compassion. I know this. Who knows. It's just my first reaction. I know for sure at this moment that I will come back to Bucuresti. We head back over to the Teatrul Foarte Mic. There is some confusion. We have tickets Cincizeci si Cincizeci si unu, dar nu putem sa gasim scaunele nostre. There isn't clear markings on the seats. We climb over one row of people. It only goes to 53. We climb back over them. We go another direction. We find the seats. Recording of bells ringing. Turn off cell phones in Romanian.

Ca Pe Tine Insuti (As Yourself)
written by Maria Manolescu
directed by Radu Apostol

Teatrul Foarte Mic, Bucuresti
There is a lace curtain downstage. A man sits behind it at a microphone. The set is a street corner in Bucuresti, with snow three feet high. A half buried telephone booth. But the whole thing also kind of looks like a chim-chim-cheree rooftop setting. The curtain slowly opens and the singer (Bogdan Burlacianu) sings "Homlesi...Homelesi" and throws stage snow over himself. He's got a lovely voice. He sings over all of the scene breaks. I think it's my favorite element of the show. During one of the songs, I feel like I'm in Bucuresti seeing theatre! And I almost start crying for joy. Mihai Gruia Sandu and Mihaela Radescu play Ioan and Maria, a sort of modern homeless twist on the Beckettian duo. He's an ex-priest who doesn't want to be touched, and she ended up on the streets after her mother forced her to get an abortion. The play begins with them discovering Rafa, a young man passed out face down in the snow, with a big furry polar bear jacket on. Gruia Sandu was really centered for the whole performance and fun to watch. He was very understated and precise, although it was difficult for me to make out his dialogue for his subtle delivery. I only understand loud, clear, slow Romanian. What can I say, it's where I'm at. Radescu tries a bit too much at the top. There's something a bit broad about it. There's full commitment but just not a lot of content. She has to perform some slapstick comedy that doesn't ever quite come off. She's more effective in the dramatic moments. All of the acting is heroic, however. Lots of thrashing around. Beating heads against telephone booths. The staging is rarely static. The musical interludes are fun, but seem somehow at odds with the action. The onstage costume changes seem correct, but the motif of singer interacting with audience/actor interacting with singer doesn't ever come off. The snow effects are charmingly scrappy with long tubes emitting an endless spray of stage snow and fans and wind effects made by the singer. The aesthetic of director Radu Apostol and set designer Adrian Cristea, I admire. The structure of Maria Manolescu's play is problematic. It seems a little stuck in between. Dramatically speaking, it goes for a big punch, but doesn't really have the structural heft it needs. Viorel Cojanu is funny and intense as the young man, and he looks nice with his shirt off. I guess I never fully bought the characters as homeless. I think that's the real problem here, and I think it's a directorial one. It could have been a story about love, conducted among any of society's throwaways. The actors don't smile at curtain call. I like that. I think in American we shouldn't either! They get three ovations. My first play in Europe. Thank you.

Apoi, Delia si eu mergem la Cafeneaua Actorilor (Actors' Cafe), ajung la Teatru National de Opereta. It's a cool place. They have pizza and salads. Delia and I talk about the play. She found it sad. It's hard to describe how nice and funny and direct she is! I have to order for myself from the waitress. She has a scar on her face, and curly brown hair. I eat a pizza with prosciutto and mushrooms and a spicy marinara sauce. She has a salad with veggies and vinegar and oil. Foarte delicioasa. I took these picutres while Mariah Carey was playing at the Cafeneaua Actorilor. We had a good chat about MC.

We have a good time. Then Ramona's brother Tavi comes! And we have a really good laugh. Delia starts laughing hysterically from the minute he sits down. It is really nice. I like him a lot, and I think I had my first conversation where I was speaking and understanding Romanian like a normal person. I WAS SO HAPPY. He also told some good jokes, I'm sure, which I didn't catch. And was very polite with the waitress. :) Here we are the three of us:

Parking in central Bucuresti sounds like a real nightmare. Tavi drove here. He lives in Sibiu, I guess. Delia has to be up early and Tavi has been working all day so we hop over to the Universitate Station. It is a pretty cold and windy night.

I have to make my own journey home including a transfer, but it's okay. Pa pa, Tavi! Ma bucur sa te-am cunoscut! Pa Delia! Noapte buna. "Just ask, 'Merge la Piata Iancului.'" "Okay, I can manage. Ne vedem maine la ora doazeci." I hop on the train. Transfer at Piata Victoriei. "Merge la Piata Iancului?" "Da." I'm reading my Mihai Eminescu on the metrou: MOARTEA LUI IOAN VESTIMIE. One paragraph takes me the whole ride home. I walk down Iancului. Put the sensor to the door. It unlocks. Walk up the three dark flights of stairs, through the glass doorway into the hall, turn the key around twice in the lock. Two revolutions for the keys here. Open the door. All the lights are off. The boy who lives in the apartment must have come back. Cami told me to expect him on Sunday. I walk into the computer room. Turn on the light. "Mmmwha..?" He's sleeping. "Imi pare rau. I'm sorry! I'm Kevin!" Flick off the light. Okay, time to sleep. Trying to get onto local time in earnest. Bed at midnight. Noapte buna, Bucuresti.

Day 2, Part II: Bucuresti

I wake up from my nap when Delia calls. She asks me if it's okay for me to take the metro to her. It's my first big adventure alone. I walk to the stop, and not only take one train, but transfer and take two. Success. The second metro line has the old trains. Graffiti trains. I see this on the wall and it reminds me of my iepuras.



Delia meets me at Unu Decembrie metro station. We walk to her apartment. "I hope you won't be bored tonight." There's no possibility. I'm so excited. I go in and meet her friends, probably 10 young Romanians. They are friendly, and fun, and vibrant. I'm a little nervous and my Romanian language skills are out the window again. I feel a little funny, a little bit sore thumb. But it's okay. I start trying to talk in Romanian. I'm doing okay, I still am having a hard time comprehending spoken Romanian, and it's frustrating to me. I talk to one of the guys about Romanian television. He has some theories. I like him. Because the culture of communism was so repressive, things have swung the other way to telenovelas and trashy music videos. "There's not a lot to watch." I drink some tea. Sometimes the conversations go on, and I have no idea what's being said, but I'm grateful to be there. It's surreal, and nice, to feel like I am already starting to meet some nice people here, that a stranger has invited me over, that I can hang out with them.




We walk to the metro station together in a group of six or so. There's a boy outside of the station having a fight on his cell phone. Delia's friend translates for me: "Then come here in 30 minutes and beat me! What good will it do!" Her friend says that that's a good point. And that he would make a good project manager. He keeps his timetables.



We arrive at a metro station after saying goodbye to her nice friend with the theories, and one of the boy's girlfriends. We take a taxi. There's some dispute on the way about the price. We go to the Rin Grand Hotel in the south part of Bucuresti. We walk in to the grand foyer, and there are people smoking all over. I like this. We go into the huge restaurant space on the first floor. There are about 500 young Romanians here, current AIESEC members, and alumni. There are a couple of speeches. Delia translates for me. AIESIC is celebrating twenty years of "bringing positive change in Romania." I feel like everyone knows I'm a foreigner, and that I don't belong to the group. But I'm overwhelmed and fascinated. There are several awards given for different areas of acheivement. The LC's are nominated (local committees.) I think AIESEC Brasov wins and then AIESEC Bucuresti. When they win the group goes into a chant, they come out into the middle of the floor and jump up and down and dance and sing. This is amazing to me. The nominees are annouced via projection screen with "Summer of 69" playing loud in the background. There are a number of technical issues, but it's fun. One alumni from the years 1995-2000 gets up and gives a speech. I guess his name is Zipu. He says if we don't like what someone says to say, Zipu at the seaside, Zipu la mare (Zi pula mare means Say big dick.) I think that this is absolutely hilarious. There is also a chant to which everyone replies "Yo bitch!" I think Romania is definitely ready to see RUPAUL'S DRAG RACE. I can't believe I'm here amdist all these people, at this event, I drink pear juice. I'm hungry.



The formal event ends and we go up to the party on the 13th floor. I'm in the elevator with one of Delia's friends who hasn't met me yet. The elevator only goes to the 10th, then another elevator only takes us to the 12th, then we reach the 13th, and find everyone. It's hard to talk, because I'm not Romanian and I'm not a part of AIESEC, but I'm doing my best to mingle. I feel a little bit like baggage, but it's just my own concern. I meet an interesting guy who talks about the projects he's working on to help fund non-government organizations make positive social change in a way that is financially sustainable. For instance, having people with mental disabilities earn a living making canvas shopping bags that are re-useable and environmentally friendly. I talk to another boy who wants to come study in America. He's 19. He talks in English and I talk in Romanian. It's easier for me this way because I speak better than I understand. He wants to practice his English and I want to practice my Romanian, so it's okay. I'm pretty hungry. Delia calls me over and tells me that her friend can get me a sandwich and some yogurt. I happily reply that I'd love it. He takes me up to his hotel room. He doesn't speak very good English so we speak in Romanian. Another guy in the elevator to me: "You're Italian?" "Nu, sunt American." "Your accent is very good. WHY DO YOU KNOW ROMANIAN?" "Why not." This is the short answer. This is everyone's question. They are baffled. Why would anyone learn this language. It's a beautiful language and you're a beautiful people with a beautiful culture! Foarte frumos. The boy takes me up to his room and gives me a sandwich and yogurt. He just gives it to me. Romanian angel #5. His roommate looks kind of disshelved. There's a girl who climbs out of the bed and leaves. I eat my sandwich on the floor. "Multumesc, multumesc mult." I'm pretty blown away by everyone's generosity. We go back down and the dance party has begun in the other room. It's dark and we are struggling to find my friends. The environment has turned into a Romanian discotheque. Nice. Certain song come on and all the AIESEC members form up in a long T formation and start doing choreographed dances! I drink two "Energizers"! I dance some! I feel kind of self-conscious! It's amazing. I go sit down during some of the choreography. One of the boys comes up to me. Asks me if I'm doing okay. He's kind to me. I say that I just don't know the dances, but I'm enjoying watching them.


Eventually we make our way out of the hotel. The lobby where the cocktail hour took place is like a dream. I say the carpet with the swirling lines on it looks crazy. "Cum se spune crazy?" "Nebun. But you can't say the carpet is nebun. Only for a person." It really was crazy, though.



It's about 2am. We take a cab home. I have an AIESEC button.

Day 2: Bucuresti

I wake up! Eat cereal. Make coffee. Here's the view from the communist block building where I live and smoke a cigarette on the cement balcony. I think it's pretty. I want to visit the cemetary tomorrow.


The phone in the apartment has the habit of ringing once and then it stops. Something goes to fax. I pick it up. It starts beeping like crazy. A few minutes later, I see that it's off the hook. I hang it up. Cami calls. "I'm glad you're awake, I tried calling and it went to fax and then I called back and couldn't get through." "Sorry about that, I left it off the hook." I go down. "Sorry to keep you waiting," I said. Romania, Chicago, wherever I go, there I am. Tardy. We drive through Bucuresti to what she describes as a not so nice part of town. I ask what happens there. It's not really what happens, but just that there is no money in this part. Roma live in tent communities with no toilet and stove. Tension between Romas and Romanians. Tigani. The Romas don't want to intigrate anyway. Everyone accuses them of being thieves, but a lot of them are, she says. The streets here were dirt three years ago. We turn the block. Two little kids run up to the car and want to get in. "Nu...nu." They are so excited to see us. We get to the orphanage school.


We get out of the car and walk around the school towards the orphanage. The kids all run up to us and hug us. "Buna. Sunt Kevin." "Vorbesti romaneste?" "Putin." Joy. Denisa is about 17 and she appears to be the leader of the group. There's an older boy with no shoes. I asked him where are his shoes. He says something that I don't understand, but makes a gesture like they got thrown over a electrical wire. We go in. More joy. They all sit at tables and Cami starts to tell them that they'll be making Christmas decorations. The oldest group of girls with Denisa tell me that I'll be sitting with them. There are other volunteers there, a girl with an Argentine father and an American mother who's lived in Romania her whole life, and two boys who are both half Italian, I think, and an American man a little older than Cami.

"SCOTCH!" We make little garlands from construction paper. Rosu si verde. SCOTCH! They tear the scotch tape with their teeth. I get put in charge of tearing it, but I do it with my fingers. The girls make long garlands. Denisa gets a little close to me. I scoot away a little bit. Puberty in the orphanage. I can't imagine what that's like. God. One of the older girls corrects my pronunciation of "uh" versus "a." Again and again, until I do it right. She's hard on me. It's okay, I have to learn the difference. Are you and Cami taking us to the mall? I don't know.

I see two little boys get into a scuffle. I leave the girls and go over there. The boys are excited when I say I'm an actor. My name's Kevin. I must be in films! I must know SINGUR ACASA (HOME ALONE)! I'm like the boy in HOME ALONE! No, no I am the boy from HOME ALONE! I am Macaulay Culkin! Nu, nu, numai fac teatru, baietii. Just theatre, boys. They start doing handstands and cartwheels.





I join them.



I armwrestle two boys. I only win once.






I start talking with a girl named Sonia. She looks 13, but I later find out that she's 17. She's tough, and brilliant and interesting. We talk for a long time. "Asa." She says she'll come work in America. What kind of work? Do you go to school? Here and there. "Vorbiti mai rar, va rog." "Nu, nu, Sonia." "Vorbesti mai rar, te rog. Sonia." She keeps touching my Adam's apple. She's never seen one before I guess. I do have an enormous Adam's apple. We're buddies by the end of this. At first she doesn't want a picture. Then later she does. Here we are:




They hang the garlands up on the walls with scotch tape. These kids are so strong. I want to direct a play with them. I want to do something to help. I feel so attached and I've been here for only an hour. They laugh and scold me for my half-way Romanian fluency. And then it's time to leave, abruptly. Time to go. Okay, okay, okay, time to go. I don't really want to go, I could stay here for a while. Time to go.











It's time to go. We leave abruptly without any fuss. One of the boys escorts me out. I think I've forgotten my camera. We run back in! I look around! It's in my pocket! Goodbye again friends! I don't want to leave, but it's time to go. We go outside. Denisa meets me, the boss, the one who I first met. She asks in Romanian if maybe I can spot her 10 lei. "I can't, I'm just a poor artist." Ah, she understands. Here we are:


She walks me to the car. We're surrounded by little kids as we get in. "Ai grija de tine, Kevin." "Si tu." I say that I'll write to them. "No, just write to me." Goodbye goodbye la revedere ai grija, goodbye, te pup. Cami takes me to get Romania Schwarma at Emmi Fast Food on Iancului with an order window on the sidewalk. It's like Mediterranean Schwarma but 100 times more delicious with mayonaisse and onions and pickles and two kinds of cabbage and we eat in the car and I love it.



I ask her what will happen to the girls. "They don't pass their test so they can't go to high school." I don't like the system. I say it's a hard path from them. "A lot of them end up as exotic dancers," she says, "the way to put it nicely." I love her honesty and her generosity. Her directness. Her giving spirit.

My heart is in my throat.

We go to Cami's apartment. Her daughter runs out with a cell phone and a charger. We go to Vodafone, she asks the technician for a pre-paid sim card. I buy it for 30some lei. She takes me to the money exchange; I do the talking there. "As dori sa schimb dolari." I ask Cami if maybe Theatre Y could do something with the orphanage kids. I ask if maybe I can volunteer at the summer camp they do for them. They get birthday gifts of toothpaste and toothbrushes and deodorant. For Christmas, they each make a list and they each get something different. It's good. My heart is still heavy, but it's really good. THERE ARE PEOPLE HERE IN BUCURESTI WORKING TO MAKE A CHANGE. I get home, I call Delia. She says she'll call me, I can come to the AIESEC conference in the evening, and I can come to her place before that and meet her friends! Nap time on the couch.

Day 1, Part II: Bucuresti

Last Monday, I had dinner with my friend Ramona in Chicago. Last night I had dinner with her brother's friend Delia in Bucuresti. Small world. Lume mic. I was tired and jet-lagged, but I felt too antsy to sit around in the apartment she called me up. Asked me to meet her at the Piata Iancului Metro Station. "I'm tall and skinny, have blonde hair and I will be wearing a red hoodie and a grey coat." She laughed. "I'm short with dark hair, wearing glasses and have a black coat."

I left for the Metro Station and tried to memorize the look of the apartment block where I'm staying. There's a bright light in the corner. You walk through a little grassy area out front. There aren't clear markings on the street. I'd only left to go to the grocery store down the street and then walked back with Cami so I wasn't really sure at all where I was. I turn out onto Iancului, I thought the metro station was right in front of the apartment, don't really know where I'm going but I think I'm heading in the right direction. I walk for a long time in the dark toward Mihai Bravu the intersection with Mihai Bravu. People are out and about. It's 9 o'clock in the evening, but I'm completely out of space and time and haven't slept for 36 hours. I feel a little scared, a little lost. A young guy with headphones on walks towards me. "Imi spuneti, va rog, unde este statie de metrou?" He replies "......drept inainte...." Asks me if it's the Iancului station I'm looking for. "Da." I'm so jetlagged and flustered that I've lost basically all ability to comprehend spoken Romanian. But I see the way he's pointing. I keep walking. I reach a flower shop at the intersection. I stop. How will I ever cross this interesection? It's really big. I don't see any crosswalks. I can't recognize a metro station. Flustered to the old lady: Imi spuneti va rog unde este statie de metrou." She replies, I barely understand but I see where she's pointing. I walk through an army of taxis. Find the crosswalk. It's from here to China across Mihai Bravu. Cross one. Cross another. I'm at the glass house that is the Piata Iancului metro station. Don't see anyone. I smoke because I feel more comfortable to be smoking than just standing around. I feel a lot like an outsider, or that everyone knows I'm foreign? I wait for 10 minutes. There's a nice young guy there. He approaches me, starts speaking in Romanian. No comprehension. Where is it. "Vorbiti ingleza?" He does. He tells me that there was a girl here looking for me but she left to go to the other metro station. Generous, helpful. Romanian angel #2. Thank you. I start heading that way. And then I meet Delia (not Groza, but the OTHER Delia.)

She's so kind. She takes me down to the station. Shows me where to buy a ticket. "You should buy it because you need to be independent." I do. She gets a map for me. We are going to the Universitate station to get some Romanian food. While we're waiting, we try to talk some in Romanian. I'm so tired, and it's just not there. The train comes. It's lovely, clean, open, Disney World monorail.
We arrive at the Universitate metro stop and there is a photography exhibition. We're both pleased.


When we leave the Universitate stop, it has started to rain. "Bucuresti is so ugly when it rains." I think it's beautiful. I think the old buildings are perfect. It's Friday night. Downtown Bucuresti.


We walk some ways to an amazing restaurant with high ceilings, stained glass, beautiful wooden floors. It's like a cathedral restaurant. We are seated on a balcony overlooking the bar. We talk for a long time, about a lot of great things. She tells me about the state of human rights in Romania. Education is where it needs to start. We talk about the corruption of the government. There's a program she works with, I think it's through AIESIC, she's a member. She focuses on bringing young people overseas, not to leave, but to learn, come back, and help improve the state of things in Romania. She's hopeful and funny. Romanian angel #3. She's places a call to Ramona in Chicago's brother in Bucuresti, but he can't meet us tonight.


We talk about rights for gays in Romania. She says that protestors throw tomatoes at the Pride parade. "How can people claim to be religious when they would treat another human being that way?" I tell her that I'm gay. Everyone just assumes that I'm straight when I say I learned Romanian from "o prietena romanca." I ask her if she has any gay friends. I guess many are just hiding. Who knows. The word for girl friend and girlfriend are interchangeable in certain contexts. The assumptions are heteronormative. I order correctly from the waiter in Romanian. I feel a little bit better about my Romanian. I eat meatball soup and pork with fried potatoes and cheese and papansi. Donuts filled with sweet cheese and fruit jam. They're yummy. They bring us two on two plates. She's fasting (a tradition from Eastern Orthodox church that she teaches me about, eating only vegan before Christmas and Easter). I eat both plates of desert.



She lets me talk a long time about my Delia and how I met Melissa and Andras and became apart of Theatre Y and why I'm here in Romania and how I met Ramona and how I learned Romanian. "Provestea mea este lunga." "Nu, dar vorbesti mult rar." I KNOW I KNOW. Slowly, very slowly. :) "How long have you studied Romanian." "I've been studying in serious for 3 months." "That's not possible." I have the hostess take a picutre of us. Delia asks for me. And we leave.


She consults with two cabs and we take the second cab home. I go to buckle my seat belt. She thinks it's funny, they don't buckle up in the back seat in Romania. She's not try to persuade me not to. She likes making fun of Americans. Of course, I agree that this is quite correct behavior because Americans deserve to lose a little. She asks me if I want to attend the AIESEC conference with her tomorrow night? Of course. She's going to see if she can get me a reservation. I tell the cab driver where to stop, but it's not the right place. I cross the street. I'm looking, I don't recognize any of the shops. Then I see the shop that says DORNA. That's the one. It's across the street. I get into the block. I get into the apartment, and I'm home and I'm still in Bucuresti.

I'm meeting Cami to go to visit the orphanage where she works at 10:30am the next morning. Strange toilets. Lots of water. It's so late and I'm so tired. No alarm clock. Need to plug in my phone. The converter my dad gave me is square. The sockets are round. One power strip. Should I unplug all the computers and take it? I look through drawers, find one that I think might work. No. Frantic. How am I going to wake up in the morning. Desk. Functioning converter. Plugged. In. Done. Sleep under quilt. Sound of water rushing through the toilet every 15 seconds. I keep the light on in the bathroom and go to sleep.