Romanian Reminiscences 6: Decptive Appearances

First Impressions

Once inside the flat, Ben was pleasantly surprised. The outside of the block of flats looked like it had seen happier days. The stairwell inside also looked decidedly worse for wear. As far as the lift was concerned the less said the better. However, the flat itself, which Ben had just entered, told a different story. It was almost strangely out of place as if Ben had stepped into a different world.

The aforementioned door was not by any means the sprucing up of an otherwise decaying flat as one might have feared. Indeed, it was merely a sign of what lay beyond. The hallway of the flat had a shinny, laminated floor. Ben thought back to the kitchen in the house he had grown up in. It had had a dull, linoleum floor covering; a sort of poor man’s version of what Ben now found himself standing upon. Ben almost felt guilty that his dirty shoes and assorted baggage were ordaining to sully what was obviously a high-quality floor material. The feeling of niceness was augmented by the walls of the hallway, which were lined with a rough, speckled wallpaper, mimicking a granite-like finish and, in spite of its lack of authenticity, still exuding an air of grandeur. The ceiling was painted a clean white colour, which emanated freshness.

Ben was blocked in the hall by the older couple who had opened the door, unfortunate because he desperately needed the loo, which he hoped wouldn't be a hole in the ground, but nevertheless he could see further into the flat, particularly through the door to the kitchen, which lay on his right and the ajar door to what he supposed was the living room, which lay directly in front of him at the end of the hallway. The little he could glimpse spoke of quality.

The man and woman that stood before him were somewhere in their sixties speculated Ben. Both looked Romanian with ever so slightly darkened skin, tanned one might say. They were both a little rounded from what must have been a lifetime of eating well and perceptibly haggard from years of hard work.

The lady looked at him and to Ben’s surprise began to say something that he understood.

'You are speaking Romanian very bad!', she uttered with a stutter and a strongly rolled ‘r’.

Ben decided against commenting on her English and chose to receive it as constructive criticism. As a result, a pause ensued.

Breaking the silence the man asked, 'Cum vă numiți?'.

Maybe Ben’s Romanian was bad, but at least he knew enough to able to handle small talk.

'Ma numesc Ben. Si Dumnevoastra, cum vă numiți?, replied Ben, straining to pronounce the words as close as possible to how he remembered them from the recordings on his computer.

'Florin', answered the man.

'Imi pare bine de cunostiința!' said Ben, thinking that surely knowing how to say that he was pleased to meet someone would make up for any earlier Romanian misdemeanours. He turned to the lady and addressed the same question.

She looked at him briefly as if she was contemplating whether to accept him as a Romanian speaker or not. After a little consideration, she had obviously decided at least partially to do so and so replied, 'Ma cheama Doina. De unde sunteți?'.

Changing the verb from ‘to name’ to ‘to call’ and adding a new question seemed like a tactic to test Ben’s Romanian prowess, but he was capably up to the challenge.

'Eu sunt din Marea Britanie. Și dumnevoastră?'

Doina was slightly taken aback, evidently having misjudged Ben’s linguistic abilities. Nevertheless, not wanting to miss the opportunity to show off her own linguistic knowledge, she answered, 'I am from in Moldova.'

Ben almost smirked at the thought of someone being ‘from in’ a country; It is fairly obvious that if you are from a country, you are also from somewhere in that country, so no real need to specify that information. However, Ben refrained as this was definitely not a good moment to be impolite, even in spite of the earlier bravado from his hostess. Ben was so caught up in linguistic considerations that he completely missed the mention of Moldova, somewhere that was later to become very significant to him.

'Ți-e foame?', Doina asked, switching back to Romanian to avoid the possibility of misunderstanding or making a mistake.

Ben looked at her contemplating the possible meanings of this new phrase. The uncertainty was quickly cleared up, as the Doina started to rub her tummy. This was universal language.

'Da', replied Ben, not knowing what he was letting himself in for.

'Bine. Ia loc la camera de zi și asteptați putin'.

Ben was ushered by Florin into the flat’s living room (although he managed to negotiate a quick trip to the loo as they passed - it didnțt disappoint), which, as anticipated, was a lovely looking room. Ben plonked himself down on one of the arm chairs, an action caused by the inherent tiredness resulting from a long journey coupled with meeting a new culture head-on. He felt like maybe he was making himself too much at home, although the air of the couple he had just met was welcoming, if a little blunt, and encouraged such an attitude. He had tried his best to communicate with them using the polite forms in Romanian, something that took quite a bit of concentration as he wasn't used to doing this in English, but he noticed that they were fluttering between the two as they communicated with him. Obviously, they were older and had the right to speak informally with him if they wanted, but they also seemed a not very used to communicating with foreigners, which also made for an unclearity concerning politeness.

The living room itself was dominated by a fitted cupboard (if that was the right word for it) that stretched all across one wall. At either end, there were double doors concealing two large end storage spaces. Between them was a long sideboard with draws below and shelves above. The shelves were strewn with what looked like family photos and upon the sideboard was seated an extravagant looking plasma television, which belied Romania’s status as a supposedly less well-developed country. What was in the draws below the end cupboards, Ben could only speculate.

As well as the comfy armchair that Ben was seated in, there was another such armchair and a three-seater settee, all of high quality. Florin sat himself down in the other armchair and appeared to be preparing for conversation.

'Stiți Românești?', he began.

'Da, stiu puțin', answered Ben boldly, with a manner that suggested he knew more than the little that he actually knew.

'Sunteți din Anglia?'

'Da, sunt.' So far so good, but Ben was not ready for the storm that was about to be unleashed.

'Fiul meu lucreaza in Anglia. Aceasta este apartementul lui. Am înțeles ca Anglia e o țara foarte civilizata și oameni sunt cum se cade. M-a invitat să merg în vizita acolo. Nu prea vreau că odată am avut o experiența neplăcut când zboram cu avionul și acum mie este frică, dar se vedem, cine stie......'

Florin obviously didn’t get to do much talking and wanted to seize the opportunity to let off some steam. Judging by their meeting in the hallway, it was Doina who did most of the talking in this couple. As Florin talked along, Ben had no idea what he was saying, but he decided that it didn’t really matter. It was just good for Florin to get everything off his chest and so what if the person he was unloading to, didn’t have a clue what he was talking about? For Florin’s sake more than his own, Ben strategically threw in some 'da’s', nods and uh-huhs at what seemed suitable junctures in Florin’s discourse. Florin seemed satisfied that his utterings were being well received and so continued. This state of affairs must have carried on for about 20 minutes until the moment of truth finally arrived. Florin suddenly paused and looked at Ben waiting for something.

Ben, who by this stage wasn’t even concentrating on what was being said, realised that something was required of him, but he didn’t know what.

'Deci, care este pensie în Marea Britanie?' said Florin, evidently trying to solicit a response from Ben. Ben now found himself in a tricky spot. He had no idea what Florin had been talking about, even though the conversation had been going on for quite a while. He realised that a question had been asked, but he didnțt know what it was, let alone how to answer it.

As Ben was debating in his mind what to do, a voice rang out from the kitchen.

'Mâncare e gata! Veniți la masă!'.

At this sound, Florin all of a sudden seemed to forget about his awkward question and got to his feet.
'Haideți la bucătarie!' he said, motioning towards the exit of the room.

Phew thought Ben. Saved by the bell.

Image by Peggy und Marco Lachmann-Anke from Pixabay