The First Week

At the time I am writing this, Carolyn and I are in the middle of our 5th week here in Oradea, Romania, our new host city and culture.  We are very slowly starting to become more and more comfortable with the basic functions of life here in our new home, but I feel that I must share with you both the high and low of my primary daily goal in our first week: eating.

During the first few days here our friends in the city invited us over for breakfast, took us out for lunch, etc. and really helped us out with the major meals of the day.  We could order food with their help by just ordering the same thing they got and hand them our money.  It worked fine, but in the back of my mind I knew that eventually I would need to learn how to obtain food on my own. 

It was the 2nd or 3rd night here in that we were invited over to our coworker’s house and we decided that we were going to try to buy ourselves dinner on the walk over.  Good plan, right?  That afternoon I had seen a pizza shop and I figured if I pointed enough, and showed I was ready to pay that we should be able to get a few slices of pizza.  So, we walked to where I thought I had seen the pizza shop, but it wasn’t there. Maybe it was down the street further?  Nope… I started to get kind of nervous because I couldn’t find the place I had previously scoped out for dinner! After several minutes of walking and worry that we’d missed it, we then at least found a different food place and walked in.  Even if this wasn’t what we planned, at least they were open and had food!

Looking at the menu I recognized “shawarma” and figured, since that’s the only thing I recognized and could pronounce (more or less), I should get that.  As soon as I stumbled though saying “shawarma” the guy smiled politely and said in English, “ahh, big or small?”  I said “small, two” and held up two fingers and pointed to both Carolyn and me.  He then started to prepare our shawarmas.  With lots of pointing we tried to communicate which toppings we wanted and ended up getting everything, which was about 5 different sauces.  It was a little overwhelming to eat, I must admit, but it was very satisfying to have obtained food all on our own!

A night or two later we had a little bit of a different experience regarding obtaining our own dinner.  We had previously been to a certain shop for lunch, and with help had gotten plăcintăs.  That meant that between our experience ordering shawarma a few nights earlier at the other shop, and already ordering plăcintăs from this place for lunch a day or two earlier, I was confident in my ability to get us dinner!  What could go wrong!?  So I walked up to the lady, inhaled bravely, and said “dua plăcintăs.” and smiled real big.  (Side note: that’s not the right was to say ‘two’ in Romanian for anyone who is interested.)  But, to my surprise she didn’t turn around and start preparing our food!  Instead she looked at me and said, “ahh, nu.”(“nu” means “no” in Romanian) Hmm, this was is a predicament.  I could see food behind her on the counter, but I wasn’t sure how to get it!  So, I looked at the menu and tried a few other things, but every time I stumbled through some food (that I didn’t know what it was mind you) she simply said, “Nu” with a smile and shook her head sorrowfully. I knew she had some kind of food! I saw it behind her!  And I was hungry.  It was dinner time after all!  Why wouldn’t she help me out and offer me something, then all I would have to say is “Da!” and smile back at her.  But alas, after trying many items someone behind us in line started talking with the lady and after they exchanged several sentences, we knew that wasn’t where we’d be eating that night.  We walked home hungry, discouraged, and confused at our inability to get dinner.  And we ended up eating our leftover snack food for “dinner”.

I am happy to report that we have yet to miss a meal again, so don’t worry, we are doing better now! I think that little incidents like this are going to continue to be very common for us as we adjust to this new culture, and other new cultures as we encounter them.  Why didn’t she try to help us out and offer us something?  I’m still not sure and I probably won’t figure it out.  A friend told me today that sometimes saying to yourself, “This is a good story!” in the thick of things can ease tensions a little and make less than fortuitous circumstances a bit more bearable.  I suspect I will be using that phrase a lot, and I will also probably continue to pack emergency rations in my backpack for a long time to come!