A Bucharest Wrap-Up
To round off this trilogy of Bucharest reporting, I present you with the third and final chapter: the wrap-up. It has been two months since my initial touchdown in Bucharest so here are some of my thoughts as I near the end of my stay.
PDA
For a country infamous for its conservative and traditional values, it came as a big surprise to see young couples kissing on public benches and in the parks. This phenomenon, I think, extends to Romania as a whole, with even grandmas encouraging it. Having taken shelter from a storm under a closed flower shop, an elderly woman informed me that she had come from the park to do a test run before bringing her nephew the next day. She hoped to introduce her 15-year-old nephew to the park so he could know where to take his dates. Take note, boys – Parcul Cișmigiu is the place to go, and is grandma-approved.
The Romanian stare
Romanians are nothing if not starers. It explains much of my character because, I too, cannot help but stare – not out of judgement or admiration, but out of an innate and uncontrollable urge to stare. The actual composition of my DNA necessitates that my eyes scan my surroundings like lasers even when it is probably not socially acceptable. From grandmas to other youngsters, people in Bucharest glare, gawk, and gaze. Although they stare, they do not smile. If you dare smile at them, then you will be deemed insane. They have this glazed look – sometimes even a scorn – which I can’t tell whether it’s from the heat, the sun in their eyes, or if I have deeply offended them with my Western-coded outfit (short skirts and boots in the summer).
No one is safe
You think you can go on a chill walk in peace and fake invisibility? Think again. Everyone is always and forever will be in your business. On multiple occasions I sat in the park, – better put, sprawled reading in the park – when an elderly person stopped to congratulate me for not having my nose in my phone. This is an example of an ego-boosting intrusion. On the flip side, I was doing my weekly therapeutic peruse of Bucharest’s thrift stores, when the owner talking to a customer trying on heels said, ‘Now that is elegant. Women these days have lost all sense of the word, they dress in baggy trousers and sneakers’. As you can probably guess, I stood there in my baggy trousers and sneakers… I thought I looked good.
The thrift stores
My god are we being starved by the thrift stores in London! Not only are we being rinsed of our money, but we are not even finding unique or good-quality pieces. In Bucharest, I could not step into a thrift store without walking out with an absolute heaping pile of clothes at the cost of a loaf of bread. I found everything from hand-made knits to Miss Sixties trousers. Suddenly, it seemed like all the trendiest folk in Bucharest were donating their clothes and no one was coming to pillage it. Unfortunately, this blessing is also a curse. See, I came to Bucharest with just a backpack. I have since acquired sufficient clothing to clothe a family of 10 (stylishly so). So I guess the cheapness of my thrift finds will be counteracted by the cost of a Wizz air carry-on to get back to London.
Storms, storms, and more storms
With temperatures announced to be over 40°C, I conceded that a jacket and an umbrella wouldn’t be necessary. That, however, could not be further from the truth. Bucharest is the town of storms; at least once a week the sky ripped apart and was pummelling down with torrential rains and booming thunder. As Romania fails to prepare for this repeated phenomenon, and the corrupted government cannot care enough to fix its draining system, entire streets flood in a matter of minutes. At this point, rather than investing in a car in Bucharest, one should invest in a little paddle boat. On multiple occasions, I was left to trudge through grimy water reaching past my ankles. Puddles are not enough to describe the sheer amount of water filling the streets (and subsequently my shoes). They were more like mini lakes. Cherry on top is that people here drive like maniacs with not a care in the world for the average citizen walking the streets. You best believe that at high speeds, said cars would drive through these mini lakes and ensure that any part of you that was still, by some miracle from god, dry, was now wet.
BlaBlaCar
Maybe it is because the Romanian train system functions like a turnip, but I have never been in a country that loves BlaBlaCars as much as the Romanians do. For those unfamiliar with BlaBlaCar it is an app that organises car sharing. You can book a car through the app where the drivers will publish their routes and fees. In the past two weeks, I have taken four BlaBlaCars. That is likely on the low end for the average Romanian. I have ridden in two Mercedes, a BMW… and a Skoda. I have also met some fascinating folks. On my most notable journey, I was riding from Piatra Neamț to Bucharest with a perfume seller, a 19-year-old going to Bucharest to take the police fitness test, and a man who faced death a couple of years prior and was explaining what happens when you pass to the other side. With them, I shared the sacks of food my grandma sent me home with, which included fruits and veggies from the farmers market and pound cake. Another notable journey – but not for the same positive, makes-your-heart-fuzzy reason – was my latest trip to Iași. From start to finish of the six-hour drive this man had put his literal sex playlist on full volume. I am not kidding; I heard ‘Call Out My Name’ by The Weeknd at least four times while the car was, and I am not exaggerating, trembling. So was I, for that matter, because he was overtaking cars in the depths of the night at 160 km/hour speed on single-lane country roads (please don't tell my parents). However, even this is better than the experience of taking Romanian trains, where a minimum of a two-hour delay is guaranteed, the existence of a functioning AC is only a dream, and its speed can be compared only to the likes of a snail. Honorary mention to the clogged toilets for the duration of an eight-hour train ride.
All in all, my time in Bucharest has been an absolute blast. I have met some of the most wonderful people and made memories that I will cherish for a lifetime. I have also better understood why my Romanian parents act the way they do and revived a deeply rooted connection to my culture. Bucharest, you have been great – signing off now, till next time!
Edited by Daria Slikker
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