Historical slumming - the act of visiting locations such as diners, smokestack industrial sites, rural villages — locations where time appears to have been frozen many years back — so as to experience relief when one returns back to "the present". (page 11)~ Douglas Coupland; Generation X.
This is effectively what Dave and I have done/are doing. We left Luton airport with a mixture of substantial relief and almost crippling fear. We sat in the departures lounge nursing our last Starbucks coffee, staring at the ground, judging girls dressed like slags and not touching our food. We were scared, we were very scared. People often say that the only true fear is the unknown and we were jumping into it face first with not even a bottle of wine to our name.
I hadn't slept in 28 hours when we got onto the plane; sleepign every second day seemed to be working for me. There was a little girl in the seat infront of me kept turning around and grinning at us, which was adorable. She drew Dave and I, and a girl called Bianca, lots of little pictures for us to keep. She kept me sane for the 2 hours and forty minutes we spent hurtling away from Western culture.
For those who care, of which there are few, my tracklist for the flight was;
We Flood Empty Lakes- Yndi Halda
Gagging Order- Radiohead
Alice- Tom Waits
Triumph of Our Tired Eyes- A Silver Mt. Zion
Cold Days From the Birdhouse- Twilight Sad
Timisoara houses the second biggest airport in Romania. I'd say it was about the size of fuck all. I thought we were going to land in a field until we saw the reassuring grey stream of concrete out of the window.
We left the airport and studied our surroundings. We could have been anywhere in the world, there was nothing unique about the outskirts of Timisoara. We enquired in broken Romanian about the price of a taxi from the airport to the university. I think it worked out as £40, which apparently is fair.
We met Ciprian Stefanescu; the man in charge of the administrative side of our trip. Aside from not having done anything we should have done, we came out of it pretty well. He's a lovely man and already he's been ridiculously helpful. Our first example of Romanian kindness.
After that we visited our home for the next five months.
Ciprian drove us there, which was amazing as our luggage weighs a ton (or tonne, whichever is heavier). There was a small boy in a dirty tracksuit pointing to where we could park. He expected a tip, which was one of the most heartbreaking things i've ever seen. There's unbelievable poverty in Timisoara. We passed a horse and cart on the road, which would have been funny anywhere else but instead enveloped me in dread. The 'complex' we're living in was built during the communist era and looks as much. It reminds me of the places you see wars happening where no one cares, where it's the "and finally" section in the news.
Somewhere in foreign something bad happened...
Paint peels from the walls, windows stay broken indefinitely, cars park on grass etc. Our first impression was not a happy one. It was the first time I thought I had seriously fucked up- what the hell had I gotten myself into? It looked like we had moved into the unhappiest place on Earth.
We got to our room, although I was shaking so much I thought I was going to collapse on the stairs. It's tiny, really tiny, but it's warm and well lit so I can't complain. There's a communal kitchen and shower room (with individual cubicals, thankfully) and vast shanty town of convenience stores, pubs and diners making up the rest of the complex. While i'm not painting a pretty picture (that would be a lie and i'm making a point of being honest on this blog), I feel at home here. Dave and I don't speak a word of Romania's ass-backwards language yet everyone we have encountered have been patient, friendly and helpful to a degree that puts Britain to shame. We've only met a few of the people on our floor so far, but they seem lovely as well.
Our first night in Romania ended with Dave and I getting drunk in a bar and buyingthe worst kebabs I've ever seen. It came in a roll- enough said. Our first day had been a mixed bag of emotions, but we fell asleep thinking that maybe, if we stay positive, this might just work out alright.
Today we met with our academic guide for our time here, a man called Lucian. He showed us around Timisoara and talked us through our academic career. I won't bother describing the city, there'll be pictures on Bebo as of tonight (www.bebo.com/ethanoldreams). There's three or four town squares all named after aspects of the revolution; victory square, union square etc. Everything is run down but functional. There's laws against renovating historical buildings so I imagine Timisoara is going to stay the same for a while.
Lucian informed us that attendance of lectures and seminars is not compulsory, nor is it expected of us. Not only that, there are no exams for us to finish before we leave. Simply essays for each course we do. Life is good.
Roads are not great. Pedestrian crossings in Romania are a suggestion for drivers, not a rule that is set in stone. The etiquette for crossing roads is to make eye contact with the driver, who you can guarantee is driving too fast anyway, stick your hand out and put your faith in their brakes. If you don't do that you better hope you're standing across from something pretty because you're going to be there for a while.
We found our umpteenth example of Romanian kindness when we got lost trying to walk home from the city centre. I asked a beautiful girl, the kind who would be unapproachable if found in one's own country, for directions in broken Romanian. She understood a bit but couldn't tell us how to get home. She found a friend who couldn't help either, so they asked us to follow them. Dangerous? Probably. Ill-advised? Maybe. Good for the banter? Definately. Turns out they were going to get on a bus and come with us. We declined their kind offer as it would be better to leave then and be cool Scotsmen rather than embarrassing ourselves trying to figure out how to use buses with them watching. I can't even do that in Britain. We walked the rest of the way.
I ordered our first meal in Romanian today;
"Doua pizza va rog si duoa coka". Two pizzas thanks and two cokes. A small step, but one I'm proud of.
Dave and I also bought a bottle of wine, the most expensive one there, and 20 cigarettes. It came to 20RON, or £4 in real money. We're gazillionaires.
Right now we're lamenting our lack of a kettle and drinking odd orange juice that's more orange than the most orangey orange in an orange place.
It's a huge bonus being Scottish, everyone loves the Scots. Our accents are going down very well indeed.
I'm trying to find out our address but the woman I have to ask is terrifying and I'd rather not speak to her. I'll get it eventually.
I'm glad we're here. I really am. And I'm glad Dave is with me. This would be impossibly difficult without him.
I'm sure there's more things to say, I just can't think of anything right now. If anyone wants to ask anything just "hit me up" on Bebo or on here.
I think we're going out again tonight. We're trying to blend in with the locals.
Tomorrow I shall start cooking.
Goodnight for now,
and so it goes.
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