Here's Looking at You Kid

As you all know I am a small and petty, petty man. I have been forced to demonstrate this streak of my personality all week by repeating stories I have been told by smug united or liverpool fans in a silly voice. Something like champions league, schmapions league. I also made sure no one was allowed to forget Charlton's glorious 2000-2001 division one winning season. So I thought I would dedicate this post to cheap, childish laughs. Living in a foreign country you see things you prefer, things you don't and some things which are just funny.

This is my favourite sign in the whole world. That's no empty prize either, it has triumphed over many fine rivals. Its a little bit a cult hero among foreigners too, it has a personality all of it own. Just what is it trying to say? THERE WILL BE ABSOLUTELY NO STAIRS! To add confusion its right next to a set of stairs. What would happen if you did walk on them? The mind boggles.

This is just bad arse, enough said.

If you drove that incredible piece of automotive history you would want it to be clean, but who to trust with it? You don't want to take it to any old car wash where any punk could damage it. No, you need the best car wash there is. Then you see this advert for one on the side of a van, a car wash fit for the Lord Jesus Christ himself! Tesco can keep Neil Morrissey, this a real celebrity endorsement.


This was enough to send me to fits of girly giggling for about 3 days. The fact that its butter makes it so much better!

These are stuck on the doors of banks. Some even feel the need to add knives as well. Maybe I should be worried that banks need to specify not to bring guns into the bank, especially when carrying a gun is illegal anyway. Really what is the point?

Would-be-Robber 1: Let's go!
Would-be-Robber 2: Shit! We can't.
Would-be-Robber 1: Why?!?
Would-be-Robber 2: Haven't you read the sign?
Would-be-Robber 1: Oh.... I didn't see that.
Would-be-Robber 2: What are we going to do?
Would-be Robber 1: We can't rob the place without our guns.
Would-be-Robber 2: We could take them anyway.
Would-be-Robber 1: Now now, rules are rules.
Would-be-Robber 2: You're right, mochachino?

Thats some real hard, gritty script writing for you there.

I hope you enjoyed some cheap laughs there. I know I did, but then I'm childish, but I am male so it's to be expected. I did have an eye opening experience last night, I got hit on by a guy, we really are sleazy bastards. On that bomb shell I'll bid you all good night x

ok one last thing, on the subject of never growing up, a song for the day:
www.youtube.com/watch?v=mQMVHhxTtLc
dedicated to Ms Weeks and her cool gig going ways

Meet the Locals

I hope all is well with you as life in Bucharest has grinded on. Its been a pretty quiet week and thus not much to write. Enjoyed one of those Egyptian Hookha pipes, which was eye opening and a night out. Otherwise its just been teaching and planning interspersed with getting excited about Sophie and Kelvins upcoming visit. So I thought I would take this chance to introduce you to some colourful Romanian characters. Starting with some fantastic facial hair.

This rather swarthy looking gentleman is Vlad Tepes, or to you and me, Vlad the Impaler. Cuddly. He was the King of Wallachia, which is a part of Romania, and is renowned for his guerrilla wars against the Ottomans. As you may have guessed he liked to impale people. Apparently the method is to insert a blunt stake into the arse very slowly until it came out of the mouth, it took hours if not days to die. The Turks once turned up on the battlefield to see 20,000 Turks impaled on ready made stakes. He is quoted as saying "I have killed men and women, old and young, 23,844 (very precise) Turks and Bulgarians without counting those whom we burned alive in their homes". Despite all this, in rural areas he is still seen as a hero defender of the realm. Bram Stoker used Vlad and his castle at Brasov as the inspiration for Dracula. I think the problem stems from his brother, Radu the Handsome, his brothers title was always going to give him an inferiority complex.

In modern times they have settled for this man, Traian Basescu. A former sea captain who has, as far anyone knows, never impaled anyone. He ran on a platform of being anti-Communist despite being a former member of the party himself. He is the only President to have been suspended and has a history of making less than diplomatic remarks. After snatching a recorder from a reporter he forgot to turn it off and was recorded in his car calling the reporter a "stinking gypsy". He also called a doctor who operated on him "the only competent Armenian I have ever met". He has also been caught drink driving. Despite all this and maybe even because of it, he remains a popular figure.


Believe it or not Marius Lacatus used to be a bit of a rogue with the ladies. He was also dubbed "the Beast", I wonder what happened between then and now? He is a former footballer and is worshiped by Steaua fans. He is currently their coach. In his playing days, he was a part of the 1986 European Cup winning Steaua side, he used to enjoy flouting how much bigger he was than the Communist regime. Most famously by growing his hair shortly after a ban on long hair, knowing the regime could do nothing to stop him, such was his popularity. Steaua has a strange political role. Their chairman is Gigi Becali, the Romanian Richard Branson, just imagine Richard Branson was the head of a neo-fascist political party listed as extremist in the EU and in America. He once also commissioned a portrait of himself as Jesus.

Nicolae Ceausescu was the former Communist ruler of Romania. Originally liked in the West as he was prepared to confront the USSR, it all went down hill when he turned out to be a murdering tyrant. Destroying Romania through huge international debt which saw mass food and energy shortages. His demise came when he went out to make a speech, when it became clear the crowd was going to lynch him he jumped into a helicopter and to safety. Or so he thought, the helicopter landed in a small village, they held a trial on TV and executed him. He is a hated figure and barely ever mentioned, but he is the elephant in the corner, his influence still lurks. For example, Bucharest is his project, his destruction of huge parts of Bucharest to try and force them into the Communist flat blocks, is responsible for the strange appearance of the city with all its different architecture on the same street.

There are many famous Romanians who deserve a lot more writing than I can do at this time of night. Try this on for size. Theres Mihai Eminescu, the great Romantic poet, a fine list of composers and inventors. Inventions we can thank Romania for include the fountain pen, the ejector seat, and all sorts of planes. A Romanian brothel owner named "the lady in red" put John Dillinger in jail and how much safer do you feel knowing you can walk the streets knowing John Dillinger isn't going to come around the corner? The Romanian gymnast Nadia Comaneci was the first women to score all perfect 10s. There is Tennis legend Ilie Nastase (who claims to have slept with over 2,500 women, but hey whose counting?), and of course how much worse would football have been without Hagi, Petrescu, Mutu, Popescu and Dumiterscu? Thats a pretty impressive haul by anyones standards. How do you like them apples Moldova?

Noapte Buna x

Late Addition: Humble apologies, how could I possibly forget the Cheeky Girls? Lembit Opik might try and beat me up.

Martisor!

On the 1st March, Romanians celebrate the ending of winter and look forward to the regeneration of Spring. To mark the occasion men give these little beauties, known as Martisors, to women. Traditionally women wear them around their necks or on their chest but today its more usual to wear a daintier version around the wrist. It is supposed to bring good luck and beauty for the coming year. The symbolism of the red and white varies depending on who you talk to. It can be red for spring and white for winter, or red for passion for the woman and white for her purity. The grey disk is meant to be a coin but its now more common to have a small charm, like a heart, sun/moon or a little man. In the countryside, where it originated, it is tied to the first tree they see in blossom.

The origins of the custom are a mystery and there are many stories. What is clear is that it is very old indeed. The Dacians (the people who lived in Romania before the Romans diced them up) had a virtually identical practice but with a white (life) and black (death) colour scheme. The red and white appears in the Roman times as a mark of respect to Mars. The specific stories range from the very dull to damn exciting. The dull one is that a poor doll maker made the first Martisor from the last of his materials and word spread throughout the land, as if it were some great invention, and thus we have it today. Its a bit boring but compared to the other legends it has one advantage, it could have been possible.

The first legend is of the old agrarian deity, an evil step mother named Dochia, who sent out her young step daughter to look for strawberries. The daughter met a man on the road (some legends say the man was God) and he gave her some strawberries which she took home to Dochia. Dochia saw the fruit and thought the weather had changed so she took of her nine (nine?!) coats, took her sheep and went to the mountains where she promptly froze to death. Amateur. The martisor is worn to mark the true change of the weather.

The second is my personal favourite. In the old days the sun was able to take the form of a human, and as you would if you were the sun in human form with some time to kill, the sun would then go and dance with Romanian peasant folk. Much mirth was had by all. One day a dragon (yes a dragon) discovered what the sun was upto in his free time and followed the sun to earth. As the dragon followed the sun to earth, that must mean the dragon was not on earth so it's an alien dragon! For some reason the dragon had beef with the sun and its dancing ways so took the sun prisoner in a castle. Boo dragon! Everyone was devastated but to scared to face the dragon until a brave young man entered the castle. He fought the dragon, the fight lasted for many days, but he was victorious and despite his many wounds he freed the sun. The young man was seriously hurt, he had just fought a dragon, he bleed onto the snow (seeing where its going) and when his last drop was spilled he died, happy in his noble life. Where he lay the flower known as snowdrop sprouted so everyone knew spring was near, so the martisor is a symbol of passion and remembrance of the young man. If you really want to honour him, someone should have stopped him bleeding to death in the snow, but there you go. If thats not true, I don't want to know what truth is.

As a foreigner traditions like this are interesting, different traditions are one the best things about being abroad, but it can also cause a few headaches. Is it appropriate for me to take part? Or is it expected? Which women do you give it to? A few people said every girl you know, but most said just to special ones, but how special? I like my Romanian teacher and I'm grateful for her efforts, but is that special enough? Or is it for family and girlfriends? How much of a romantic gesture is it? If I gave one to a girl with a boyfriend or husband should I expect a punch in the face? Some say give it to friends, but then you risk offending someone you don't give it too. One girl said she found the whole thing a little patronizing, so even by trying to be nice I can upset people. It's a minefield!

So ladies of the blog I offer the Martisor above to you, its not real, but the feeling is, and you're still one Martisor up on last year.

love love love x

Sociability is Hard Enough For Me

After being mildly scolded about the regularity of my posting I was going to make an effort to post more but alas I have been down with the WORST dose of man flu that anyone has ever endured. Rest assured anyone else would have died. After finding a lack of sympathy anywhere I was forced to get on with it.

A few days ago I managed to become a cherished memory of someone's big day as when coming out of my block's front door I inadvertently walked into someone's wedding video. The whole thing was very strange bordering on the inane. The groom came out of the front door completely in white, jacket, cravat, waistcoat and even shoes. It was truly chavtastic, especially when he climbed into a car that looked like something from the Sopranos. As normal they had gone for a real display but again as normal there was something to drag it down. One problem was that the rest of the family were in the former car of the Communist regime, modern day success story and staple of Romanian roads, the legendary Dacia. As you can see, you would hope for something a little less socialist when driving to see your son seal the deal. Not to let him down they covered them in balloons. It made a world of difference. The other problem was the location. It's fair to say the front of my block isn't Paris. Surrounded on all sides by other flat blocks, lots of graffiti and more than one set of roadworks, you would hope for a better location. They thought long and hard and came up with the only solution, an accordion player. Imagine my surprise at 7 in the morning, stumbling out of my block, late to get to the metro, hazy eyed (you know I don't function before 3pm) to find an accordion player (in peasant garb), a gangster car and a guy wearing nothing but white staring me; are you an angel? Have I died? The look of confusion and panic will be forever enshrined on video.

One of the most noticeable things about living in Romania is that people get married younger. Whereas at home you just assume that a vast majority, if not all, of people in their early twenties in clubs are unmarried, here it's different. I've seen a lot of western Europeans go up to Romanians in clubs only to find out they are married at 22. At home you would think you just crashed and burnt but here you just nod, thats fair enough. Its proved at school where men are massively outnumbered by women (its hard I tell you) and there are girls only a few years older than me who have been married for four or five years. It's not universal but its certainly a much more frequent occurrence.

I've been warned about romance generally, they needn't have bothered but I appreciate the thought. Everyone seems to have a few stories to tell. A few people have had the same problem, that they go on one date and it all seems to go great until they try to talk to them again by which time they have mysteriously lost the ability to talk English. Once is a blow off, twice is coincidence but this has happened to four or five. Sometimes it goes the other way, with people turning up at their work and bombarding them with emails. Sometimes its just seedy, I know a guy whose gone home with one less nipple than when he arrived. I've been advised that Romanian girls are suckers for an English accent and that I should strut around like Hugh Grant, but a man needs his dignity. I've also been told to exploit that I'm "Exotic". I've never been described as exotic, mainly because I'm not, and they wouldn't call me it again if they knew what it was like at home. They should come and visit, we'll go for a pint at the black lion, get offered out by chavs, catch an STD and finish the night off with a doner ... fuck yeah.

Its enough to make you home sick x

Tell The Villagers

I'm often asked by friends and also by some people who think I'm a prick, 'hows Romania?', 'what's it like?' and 'who the f*ck would let you in their country?'. The last question aside, I thought this would be a good time try and answer. I'm hoping Serj will act as my Romanian moderator, he can jump in and defend the nation of his birth if he feels at any point I'm being unfair or just don't know what I'm talking about, which is a good 85% of the time. So without further adieu, lets get anthropological:

*Without wanting to put everyone in one box, from my experience, Romanians are (very) welcoming, passionate, proud of their country (on the whole) and generally optimistic for the future. They have a great sense of fun.

*They live by the mantra of Ol' Fiddy Cent, you have money flaunt it, a lot. In the massive clubs in affluent Doriband where Bucharest's young and beautiful strut around ensuring they get seen by the right people not having fun, there are rows and rows of super cars. This is also true of people with less money. Some guys (and it tends to be guys) would rather drive a Mercedes than pay their bills. An English guy told me he worked with a guy who wore expensive designer clothes but when he went to his flat for a drink found it was empty except for a bed.

*This maybe a little unfair coming from me as my attempts to learn to drive descended into farce long ago (6 tests and counting), but drivers here are out of their mind. A red light means, 'go on then six more', zebra crossings may as well not exist and seat belts are for losers. There are no car parks in Bucharest and thus people park their cars wherever they can find an empty piece of pavement/grass. As the pavement acts as a car park this means people drive on the pavement. Some are a little too enthusiastic with their speed and most will look at you the humble pedestrian as though you are being highly unreasonable/crazy for doing something as silly as walk on the pavement.

*The Metro is amazing, even more amazing than teletext and I don't say that lightly. Sure you sometimes have to wait for ages, parts of the city are completely inaccessible and the drivers are liable to break heavily without warning sending passengers flying across the carriage, but thats all part of the fun.

*Theres always more room for one more on the bus/ in the lift/ going through a doorway. It gets excessive when you see guys take a running jump to force themselves onto the bus.

*The mullet remains neither big nor clever.

*I've learnt I'm a dog racist. I like English dogs, but not Romanian dogs (Brimo being an exception). The "Community Dogs" that live in the streets generally leave you alone but every now and again you come across a bad arse dog who wants to ruin your day.

*Corruption is a way of life, its really not subtle, its how they all get their driving licenses. The Transparency International Scale (1-10, 10 being squeaky clean, 1 being highly corrupt) gives Romania a score of 3.7, which is equal with Ghana and below Cuba, Kuwait and Qatar.... sleazy.

*Romanian women are dangerously attractive

*Everyone appears to like Bon Jovi, which is unsettling.

*NEVER bad mouth Georghe Hagi

*Bucharest is nicer than people give it credit for. Theres plenty to do, the way of life is good as is the pace, quick without being stupid.

Its a really interesting if sometimes baffling place, and I know I have a lot more to learn. So get yourself on a plane.

Buna

Caring deeply for your development as human beings (which I do) I am giving you a chance to broaden your horizons and open yourselves to the wonders that only the Romanian language can provide. My lessons are taking a break as they sort out me out a new teacher, the other two are unavailable. I think the truth is that they unable to handle the blank look on my face as I try to recall a word I was told 6 seconds ago, anymore. So here I pass the very limited knowledge onto you.

Picture the scene:

Person A (lets call him Jim): Buna!
Person B (lets call him Gavin): Buna Ziua (good day)
Jim: Ce mai faceti? (how are you?)
Gavin: Asa si Asa (so so) si tu? (and you)
Jim: Bine, multimesc (fine thanks)
Gavin: Ma Bucar (I'm glad)

Ma Bucar unfortunately sounds very similiar to the word for backside, so for a while I was wandering around saying backside, but it could have been worse. The other most noticeable misunderstanding was "NU TRANSITI USA" which is written on taxis. I read it as "no transit USA" and thought that was out of line until someone told me it means don't slam the door. Here are some numbers

1 = uno 2 = doi 3 = trei 4 = patru 5 = cinci

6 = sasi (sexy number) 7 = sapte 8 = opt 9 = noua 10 = zece

It gets pretty dull after 10. I'm picking up some vocabulary but unfortunately nothing I'm likely to use. For example "Jaf Armat" is armed robbery. It was on the news before you wonder and unless my career diverges pretty seriously I can't see myself using it. Heres a few more useful bits:

stanga: left
dreapta: right
weekend placut: have a good weekend
acolo: there
aici: here
cu placere: your welcome
acasa: home
prost: bad
dragoste: love (aww)
am chef: I'm in the mood (steady)

Though my Romanian is rubbish I still can't list everything and that makes me feel like a big and important, like a midget at a dwarf convention.

I miss you all x

Let's Not Mess About

This wench's name is Mihaela Radulescu. She's a Romanian TV presenter and from the google search for this picture she seems to be clothed very rarely. This is an anti-smoking poster and theres big billboards and huge banners on building fronts all over the place. It falls into the usual Romanian advertisers tactic of putting a woman looking sultry on everything. My favourite being in the equivalent of the metro the naked women they put next to the weather report for no reason. The poster however goes a little further. The top question reads something like, 'Is smoking your only pleasure?' and underneath she pledges to blow anyone who quits smoking! Theres no hope for female smokers. With the sheer amount of smokers in Romania she is going to be on her knees for a very long time indeed. We should do this at home, Anne Robinson, Ferne Britten, Lulu?!

Now if you excuse me, I'm off to develop a smoking habit so I can quit