Romanian Reminiscences 5: New Acquaintances

 Interacting with the Natives

After what seemed like an age, the lift jerked to a halt and the doors slide, or maybe more accurately said, jittered open. Ben was relieved to bumble his way out of the lift, dragging his luggage with him as best he could. He had spent most of the upward journey contemplating the best way to hang if the lift’s floor gave way. Now, though, his feet were on firm ground again and he could relax, for a few seconds at least, before he confronted the next challenge that lay ahead.

Said challenge began with the difficult of working out which was the right flat. His little piece of paper had 28 written on it, or at least this was the last number in the address, and by a complicated process of deduction Ben had reached the conclusion that the other numbers in the address represented different aspects of the flat’s location, such as apartment block, entrance and floor number. It was a far cry from 38 Park Avenue, the simple and straightforward address that he had grown up in. Postcodes and semi-detached housing made homes much easier to find, he thought to himself.

Looking around, Ben had four options set before him. Four doors, none of which had anything vaguely looking like a clue to the number of the flat, to which they barred the entrance, adorning them. How were you supposed to know which was which?

Reflecting upon the difficulties of getting this far into the building, it occurred to Ben that maybe the uninitiated didn’t usually make it to this point and so there wasn’t any need for the inhabitants of each flat to make it clear which was theirs. Alternatively, maybe adding a number to your door was seen as an unnecessary expense or just culturally not the thing to do. Whatever the reason for the lack of door markings, Ben was now in a predicament and going to have to use all his deductive powers to avoid an embarrassing situation.

Of the four options, two of the doors looked decidedly old, probably as they were when communism fell. Ben hoped that the flat that he was staying in wasn’t one of these. He decided to take both of these flats out of the running, not just because of wishful thinking, but as far as he was aware, the family he had been in touch with had promised European standard accommodation. Whatever that might be, thought Ben, it probably didn’t include a communist-style door. Thus, he had whittled it down to two options; two doors both of which looked like they wouldn’t have been out of place guarding the entrance to any safety conscientious European's dwelling place. But which one to choose? Here, he had no clues, except instinct.

He contemplated doing an ip-dip-sky-blue, but decided it was of no consequence. Pick one and go for it was as good an option as any. With regard to other decisions, he generally found himself hesitating beyond what was healthy, but in this situation, what was the worst that could happen? An irate neighbour, who anyway he wouldn’t have to see all that often? Who knows, he might even make a new friend.

So after a deep breath, he reached out his slightly shaking finger and pressed the bell of one of the flats before him. The bell squalled like an ailing bird. An odd sound, but no doubt effective for attracting the attention of the flat’s inhabitants, if not the inhabitants of the surrounding flats too, Ben mused. He waited a few seconds, nervously anticipating a response.

A few moments passed by and then he could hear shuffling sounds from beyond the door. It sounded like someone was preparing to open it. Would they, though, be friend or foe? Something clicked and the door began to give way to what lay on the other side. Ben was struck instantly by a warmth, but also the odour of food cooking. Then in front of him stood the figure of an old-ish Romanian looking lady with a man behind her.

'Bună Ziua! V-am așteptat', she said.

'Buna Ziua!' replied Ben, glad that his Romanian stretched this far at least.

'Haideți să intrați!' beckoned the lady to him. It wasn’t hard from her gesticulations to work out what she was suggesting and so Ben clumsily bundled himself and his belongings into the flat.