bucharest things, well, through my eyes; part one, friday

as seen on friday morning, 3 september 2010,

-a little girl being carried by her mother, pointing at me and
saying “who’s that lady” in a perfect British accent
Stunned, I smile, turn to them and exclaim “you speak my language!”

-ladies in head scarves selling flowers by the metro
-the pack of men smoking outside the hospital doors
-the immaculate National History Museum building
-the police sitting in cars, smoking, talking
-the security guards marking their posts, protecting the sanctity of the government buildings
-the girls on their mobiles. "da da da! no no! asha asha, pa pa pa"
-men in business suits
-old men in little hats
-everyone carrying bags
-my attempt to pronounce the words I read: Compana, Mihai Eminescu, Cărtureşti
-remembering our horrible meal at Spring Time, the supposed ‘local favourite’
-the british men outside of starbucks with fancy ties and briefcases
-the blocks with electric signs covering the windows
-the guy on the motor scooter saying something to me -
  i look at him, and wave my hand 'no' and look away angrily,
  but for all i know, he could be telling me my fly was down
-the pregnant mom holding hands with her 4 year old and 2 year old walking through the park
-the dogs laying in the middle of the sidewalk
-the taxis parked in a messed fashion, strewn across the sidewalks and road
-the skinny construction workers drinking nescafe
-the hipsters in leather jackets and ray bans
-the grey block apartments, 16 stories high, some with color,
  others just giving up hope of aesthetic appeal
-my ‘Mulţumesc or merci fumois’ and their reply ‘you’re welcome’
-young professionals wearing nylons and pencil skirts
-the little girl with clean hair, a new bike helmet and nice tennis racket

-my sitting in starbucks and hearing more English than I have in months....

-A Man in a nice tan suit, walks in.
he is accompanied by a blonde, high heeled Romanian,
carrying a dooney and burke heart bag.
his accent is American/Canadian, he talks with his hands, and he talks loudly.
He has the same color suit, tie, socks and shoes.
He wears a ring, but on his middle finger
He stands to greet another, introducing his companion, ‘ she works at the British embassy’
He shakes hands with a Romanian hipster, cappuccino drinker carrying an iPad–

While telling the Romanian gal about, ‘Martin Luther King and Ghandi vs. the Nazis,”
the tan-suited American orders a blended espresso frappuccino and
carries a large slice of chocolate cake back to his table

What a breakfast.

As he takes the first bite he says, ‘this is dangerous’
Yeah…look out now

A bleached haired girl passes by me on her way out.
Red tank top, red bra straps.
Has aviator sunglasses on inside;
adorned with bright teal Uggs and vibrant floral shorts

oh no,
he just came over
‘do you work for world vision?’
‘yes I do’
‘did you just get here?’
‘oh no, ive been here for 4 months, but actually leave in a week’
‘oh great great, well here’s my business card,
 I actually work with Peace Operations with alot of your colleagues’
‘so where are you from?’ I ask
‘Germany, Norway, Sweden, romania…but I was born in Miami’

after, who knows more ex-pats in Bucharest and people at world vision,
The loud American returns to his companion
eating his dangerous cake
leaning back in his chair

he points at her and says, “the problem was, he, was just using you for sex’

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