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.