Rob the virgin and child.
Dead babies were everywhere.
Traistan Alina at General
constantin coanda 15A.
The majestic couch at 15A Bucharest.
New friends at General constantin coanda 15A!
“I, with whatever I bring new, come from
a very distant past,” Branchusi
The
couch looks like it popped out of a Salvador Dali painting.
We
walk in and ordered drinks.
Do
you mind me asking what you are doing
here? asks Traistan Alina,
Our amicable waiter,
Chatting
away with us,
Looking askance,
And then
cracking up.
You
mean how did we find this place?
We reply.
Come
on in.
Inside
the restaurant was a yard sale.
Jazz
was scheduled for later that night.
Rob
and I park there, chatting
away about Andrei Cordrescu
And Fred Sontag, the everyman
philosopher we’d known at
Pomona college.
“I saw you last night at Wed night,”
he joked with students, who’d been out late the night before his classes.
He looked out for them,
bailed them out of jail,
mentored, forgave, and asked questions.
Leaving memories and clues for Rob and
I to figure out.
Over international cuisine of wine,
salmon tartar, bruschetta, and salad, we
eat.
Drinking beer and then more wine.
Traistan brings us more.
Everyone here has an opinion.
“They’ve been through a lot.
“4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is one of the saddest movies I’ve ever seen,” I chime in.
“4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days is one of the saddest movies I’ve ever seen,” I chime in.
“They put the women through a lot. No contraceptives, no abortions, lots of
graft.”
“The saddest
country I went to was Romania, years ago, during Ceausescu's rule,” Christopher
Lee commented.
“Under communism we wanted to go but
we could not go anywhere,” notes the woman at the other table, chatting with
us. “Under capitalism, we still want
to go places, but we cannot afford it.”
Its the question of the day, what was better: capitalism or
communism.
Many, including Traistan, suggest there was more to living under communism.
She
loves Bucharest and can’t imagine
leaving it.
From
Chicago USA, her husband works at
another restaurant down the road.
Every
family is unhappy in its own ways.
She
shares a few tales.
Its
never easy losing someone.
I
share a few.
We’ve
all got a lot in common.
All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way
Tolstoy begins Anna
Karenina, with stories for us
all to share,
Common ground expanding.
Part of our family were said to originate from here,
Only further East,
space and time blurring.
Pretty
soon, we’re all best friends.
“Come back
and I’ll reserve a whole table
for your family,” she smiles as we leave,
After
our second meal there.
Sometimes
food makes a trip.
This
was certainly the case.
And
our conversation continues,
Walking
in the rain,
Looking
at the old buildings,
East
and West influences intermingling.
What
destroys cities?
The
privatization of the commons under
capitalism.
Or the wrecking balls of Ceausescu?
“We can’t afford
to preserve the old buildings,” note a
few architects we meet later
on at Gradina
Eden. It took a
lot of walking and asking for directions to find the beer hall. “Enter the gates
to the stately mansion at No. 107 and follow the path to the right to find a
woodsy space festooned with lights and bars serving cocktails, smoothies and
imported beers,” noted the guide book.
Past barking dogs and Easter parties, we wander.
Not much was open, but Gradina Eden is
popping when we arrive, a dj spinning records.
Rob and I chat about our stroll
through the old city.
Gorgeous people everywhere.
“Its great to hear English. We’re glad you are here,” notes one of the
docents at the the National
Museum of Art of Romania as we walk
through the European Art Gallery.
Our favorite work was in the Romanian Medieval Art
Gallery and the Romanian Modern Art Gallery.
“Lots of
dead babies James!”
“Lots
of boys and mothers.”
“You’re
just like a baby.”
“Next
year Israel,” Rob gushed.
“There is more
to life than just getting drunk
and girls.”
“Did
I hear what I thought I heard?”
“Morocco
the following year.”
“And
Moldova after that,” James chimes in, before he leaves.
Back
to his life.
I’ll
join him
later in the week.
Rob
and I wind our way through the city on the way back to the Intercontinental, making
friends at the hotel bar,
where we have a few more cold
ones before calling it a day.
I have
to fly out a few hours.
Its
sad leaving.
Somehow
it all felt familiar,
A little
like home.
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