Bucharest 1999

a journey into a beating heart

Words, words, words... They are the strings that bind all of our individual realities together in a whole that we call life. Father, you thought I wanted to visit the old country in order to have fun, but I wanted to come here so that I could learn a lesson. And that I did. The lesson is that until you go and taste the dirt yourself, all the warnings and advice that your elders give you is just talk. Just words. Reality is something you alone experience and you can only share with another through words.

As I write on some tattered yellow pages on a cold bench in the Northern Railway station of Bucharest, I want to bind your reality to mine. To my memories, to be specific. For this, father, I shall ask for no more than an hour of your time and in exchange I shall offer you a journey into a forgotten and strange world.

Two days ago, I stepped out of the train that left Resita half a day before. I was well-rested and quite drunk. I had been drinking with a guy that I met in the train station by the name of Fieraru. He was a short, dark-skinned man then sat down next to me. He was not exactly fat, his arms and legs being muscular, more athletic than heavy, but he had a big round belly that looked like he just swallowed a ball. His head was a big rectangle with a chin weighing heavy underneath, his nose was wide and his big eyes were dark with shining whites. He was wearing a tracksuit that was meant to be Adidas, but it had four stripes instead of three. At first I thought he was Romani, but at some during our long conversations he mentioned the fact that he could trace his ancestry to the nobles of Romania.

"Now you be careful, my new friend, this place is riddled with gypsies and fiends. Stay close to me until we get out of this place. And keep your backpack in front of you" he said as he held by the elbow guiding me as one would a blind man.

"I know it is. My uncle warned me about it before I left Resita. He didn't want me to go Bucharest. Told me that I was his temporary ward and that my father would never speak to him again if anything were to happen to me" I said as we moved through the waves of travellers, hookers, hobos, gypsies and addicts.

"He was right, you know. In Bucharest you have to be careful even with the people that seem nice and helpful because most of the time it's just a con. But how did you convince your uncle?"

"I didn't. I was about to try and convince him, but then the old man started crying. Not just a few tears, but a full-blown lament with heavy sobs. I promised him that I will stay in Resita for the remainder of my summer holiday. As I told you, I am starting med-school in Berlin in October-"

"Yes, you are going to be a doctor. I will be your client if any of the patrons ever glasses me again. But hopefully not as now I am only bouncing raves. Pill-poppers are much more peaceful than drunkards. They can get annoying when they start treating you like you are the best of friends. Women are the worst, I mean they are all touchy-feely and at first I liked it, I thought that they were into me. But then I had to bounce a chick who was getting it on with three guys in the middle of the dance floor, all four of them with their eyes bugged out of their orbits and I realised that they were only horny because of the high. I have to admit that my confidence sunk a bit after that night" he rambled until we were out of the railway station. I mumbled a few words of approval.

"So what are you going to do until you get your connection to Mangalia? You just missed the midnight train by half an hour. But what can you do with these delays? Nothing works anymore since Ceausescu's murder. I tell, my friend, it is a curse that we must bear as a nation" he said as he pulled his off-brand Jameson from his gym bag. He then took a hearty swig.

"I got a couple of books that I've been wanting to read for quite some time. I guess I will hang out in the park round here and read them with my pocket light" I said before taking the bottle from his hand and having a swig myself.

"Nonsense. You should come to my place. My wife and son just left a couple of days ago. I live just across the street. We can have a couple more and I will leave you to your reading" he said as he took my arm that was giving him back his bottle. We crossed the street and turned right on an alley. A few blocks down, behind a yard with an overgrown garden, there was his house. We entered and I found myself in a surreal abode: there was a sink in his hallway, a shower cabin in his kitchen, if that room was meant to be one for it had a couch with a coffee table in front of it, a large TV on the wall next to the cabin, and opposite it, a stove and a sink. He invited me to have a seat on the couch as he pulled a two litre bottle of coke from the shower cabin.

"It's still cold, though the ice has melted. I told my wife to leave some in a bucketful of ice. I guess this one time she actually listened to me" he said as he sat next to me with two plastic cups. "Apologies for this, she took the actual glasses along with the cutlery and the washing machine. Anyways, how come you convinced your uncle to let you come to Bucharest on your own?"

"I didn't. I promised him that I would stay with him and went to bed. But then I started hearing the click-click-clack and the tok-tok-tok of my cousin's typewriter. He is a poet and now he is writing his first novel, I think. After the typing stopped, I took my unpacked backpack and left. Not before taking the whisky bottle that I shared with you from his cabinet" I said and then downed a glass. As I put it down on the table I noticed that there many military daggers on it, all of them sheathed in black leather.

"True beauty can only exist where there is real danger. That's what a guy from the boxing gym told me. And I believe him because he is a smart guy, he used to work for the secret police back in the good old days. Speaking of danger, I see that you are looking at these beauties. I can give you a very good price on any one of them"

"I am not sure that I can afford one"

"Nonsense. Of course you can. How much money do you have with you? This is a tool for your protection and I want my friends to be safe" he said as patted me warmly on the back. I checked my back-pocket and realised that I had lost my wallet. Or it had been stolen. "Oh, and I told you that you should be careful. I hope you have some more money stashed in your backpack" I didn't. I asked him if I could borrow some money off him. He told me that he was down to his last penny, but he had a job that he had to do, a job for which he needed a partner. I asked him if he were going to rob anybody or something like that.

"Nothing of the kind. I am an honest man. I have some cans of paint thinner for which I had found a buyer who lives quite close. He is available at all hours. They are heavy and I have to get him in a place that is quite awkward" I found myself weighing what would be worse: helping this strange man or calling my uncle.

"Now, I want you to take one of these, any one of them you like. Hopefully, you will not use it, but I want you to be safe" Fieraru said as he pointed to the knives. I took the largest one. He told that I will need my flashlight and after that we went behind his house were there two crates on a trolley. He told to pull the trolley and I listened to him. As soon as we were on the street, underneath the light of the street lamps I saw the crates had written "EXPIRED" in red paint on all sides.

"Don't mind it, they might not thin paint anymore, but they will help some good people get their kicks after they huff it" said Fieraru with a chuckle. I could not tell if I was starting to sober up because of the effort of pulling the heavy trolley or the doubt that was growing in my mind. We went around the Railway Station and I could see the ragged bums breathing in and out of black bags. The scene felt unreal, but I could not tell you for sure if we or them were the ghosts.

"Fierarule, you better not show your face to King Bruce Lee after that last batch you sold him. We were puking our guts for days and Sewer Town reeked of vomit for two weeks, you hear me?" A voice shouted from the shadows.

"It always reeks of vomit down there" Fieraru shouted back and then he turned to me "don't you mind them, me and Bruce Lee are on the best of terms"

"He is the one that all of the fiends and bums that leave underneath the Northern Railway Station answer to. He is a skilled fighter, that's how he became their leader. Pity he is addicted to this nasty stuff, otherwise he might've been a kickboxing world champion. We trained at the same gym for a few months back in the good old days. Now stop here, we reached our spot" he said as he pointed to a manhole. Following his instructions, I was the first to climb down there and then he dropped down the two crates. When I caught them I thought that I broke my back. Then Fieraru got down as well, struggling to fit his ball belly in the manhole. As he got down I saw something drop from the track suit pocket. I went to pick it up and saw that it was my wallet. Before I could say anything he punched, probably straight in the chin.

As I was laying unconscious I dreamed. I dreamed of you and mother back home in Berlin receiving the news that their only child was found dead in a sewer in Bucharest. I then dreamed of how the two of you crossed the Romanian border hidden in the trunk of a car, running away from a totalitarian nightmare so that they could weave a better dream for their unborn son.

And then I found myself back in time, almost two months ago, with you, father, on the platform in Berlin. You told me how proud you were of me. And then you boarded the train yourself to say goodbye once more and to tell me again how proud you are. And then you had to run out of the already departing train cart and I saw you jumping on the platform and tumbling. Thinking, it was the last time we would see each other, I started to cry with heavy sobs, like uncle did when I told I wanted to go to Bucharest.

"Don't cry, please, I am not going to hurt you" a voice that was followed by a heavy chemical smell woke me from my dream. I then saw her, with dark eyes and greasy blonde hair that shined like gold in the sun. I found myself on a bench in Northern Railway Station. I was outside, on platform, and it was morning. I must've out for no more than two or three hours. She was tall, pale and slender with a warm smile made of yellow broken teeth.

"Where is Fieraru? Where am I?" I asked looking at this otherworldly being that woke me up. Though there were many people coming and going around us, I felt like it was just me and her in the whole world. I felt safe. I was sober now and my head hurt both from getting knocked out and previous night's drinking.

"Bruce Lee punished him for what he did to us. He will not bother you anymore because he skipped town, or so Bruce Lee told us" she said. I was hearing her, but not listening. She is the most beautiful thing I saw so far, father, and the only reason why am I still in this damned railway station.

When she was speaking to me everything seemed fine in the world and I was happy that I went to Bucharest, all things considered. What can I say to make you believe, father? Should I tell you of how her white skinned reminded of fresh snow on the slopes of a steep mountain? Or should I tell you of her dark eyes that seemed to borrow the beauty of the primordial void? And can I do justice to the grace of her movements, of the way she slid through the masses of lowlifes and junkies like the fresh silver drops of water on a rusty metal wall?

I am sure I cannot. I am sure that you are reading this letter and laughing. If you didn't already have a heart attack. I know that I am laughing now. Though I am down and out, I never felt more confident of myself. Sleeping rough for a couple nights is sure to boost anybody's confidence.

So, father, as you can tell I had enough of Bucharest and of Romania, and I had my adventure and learned a few lessons. I also saw true beauty and for that I am grateful. But I am also hungry and thirsty and haven't had a shower in almost a week, so could you please wire me some money so that I can get a ticket going back home.