I Heart Trains

I’ve come to the conclusion that I love riding in trains. Although you can’t blare the music and sing at the top of your lungs as you can on a road trip, it’s almost worth the trade of not having to worry about navigating yourself and thus being able to completely lose yourself in the passing scenery. That is of course until the anxiety of trying to figure out when to get off kicks in. It really is ridiculous that there is no way to know when it is your stop. That really is an adventure in itself. Then of course you always have the Bunica or drunk man (who will always offer you a swig from his bottle) who continuously attempts to converse with you even though you clearly are not understanding half of what they are saying. For some reason, trying to decipher Romanian coming from a limited tooth speaker is so much more difficult. On my last train ride I was awoken up by a car full of elderly and possibly toothless Romanians yelling, “Domnisoara, Domnisoara!” They were concerned I was going to miss my stop, which conveniently was not for another 3 hours. A very kind gesture indeed but the spray of the Bunica’s “s” pronunciation next to me is one example of why one feels so dirty after riding the train.

Nevertheless, transportation via train gives you the opportunity to fully experience the travel adventure at hand. I love to travel because there is so much to observe; the scenery, the history, the culture, the people. You finally get to observe it firsthand but still as an outsider. When traveling, there are generally very few occasions when you get the opportunity to experience the unknown firsthand. Thus, there is absolutely nothing more amazing and moving as strangers inviting you into their home and proudly sharing their culture with you; sharing their lives, their experiences, all from their perspective. You are still very much an observer but no longer as an outsider. I don’t think you can truly appreciate another culture unless you are genuinely invited into the real experience by the natives (not a mock experience that we are all too familiar with as tourists).

This weekend I went to Ocna Mures, an old mining town of 10-15,000 people. There are a few PCV’s who developed a Roma Affairs Committee and I attended the first meeting with 8 other volunteers. We first volunteered at a day program for children, many being Roma orphans. It’s amazing how quick they are to love. Hugging you upon hello and not wanting to ever let go. It wrenches my heart to think what their lives are like and having no one to love them. We had a great time playing with the children, so much energy and laughter from both the kids and volunteers. Afterwards we were invited to the home of a Roma family, who shared the culture of their music. The father played the guitar, the mother sang, and after each song the son was able to explain the meaning and how music is really the only thing they had to hold onto when under slavery for approximately 142 years in Romania. Thus, music is very much part of their culture. They even showed us how to dance but I clearly did not have the hip action required. Additionally, they served us a delicious traditional Romanian dish, Sarmale. The entire family was genuinely excited to meet and learn all about us. Being able to sit in their home amongst the family graciously sharing their culture is not something that can be recreated. There really are no words to explain the feeling. But if I had to, I would say something along the lines of a peaceful happiness. For me, it almost feels like coming home. Although I couldn’t be further away from home, it just feels right.

After dinner we stopped at a local watering hole, which truly was in a little village outside of Ocna Mures. After a round of beers, the locals had us traditional dancing and teaching us the infamous Manele chop.

And now I’m back on the beloved train, on my way home. It’s funny how I’ve grown accustomed to the length of time it takes to travel. For example, I traveled almost 8 hours one way to go somewhere for 2 days, not even. Even if I were to go by car, it would not be much better, if any. Possibly this is partially why the pace of life is so much slower than I’m use to. The concept of time here…nearly nonexistent.