It's easy not to notice the absence of those less pleasant aspects of daily life. Once they're out of the scenery, I barely think about them. Because I have to try to get accustomed to the new nasty realities, those of the new places. I almost forgot about the 1,5 mil. stray dogs in Bucharest, making my life harder because a) I wanted to take them all home and b) I was afraid of them. Forgot about the beggars, as well. Spotted a few here as well, moved on before becoming annoyed by their presence (or before wanting to take them all home, i'm always torn apart between my stupidly naive ego and my vicious one).
Anyway. Here in Kato it's hard not to notice the staggering, plastered people on the bus, almost on a daily basis, be it morning, noon or night. What first seemed to give this place some local color, has now become utterly disturbing.
So this morning I had to wake up at 7. Grumpiness level - the words to describe it are yet to be invented. Still, I put on my best smile, a chic dress and a colorful, woollen scarf, my scarlet boots (not made for walking) and headed downtown, longing for some coffee, thinking about language ethics and esthetics (homework!), making mental shopping lists, picturing a bright sunny day while trying to figure out what to wear at work as to prevent an unwelcome metamorphosis into an ice statue, as statues don't sell beer and that would be against my job description file. Still, I was quite happy - in a manner of speaking, I mean, how happy can you be at that time in the morning, having had half a cup of coffee on the run?
And there she was. I've seen quite a few drunk men falling asleep and then falling off the chair during my bus trips to / from the akademik. So I might say I've become somewhat immune. But girls? I guess she was about my age, with a face so white it would have made goth kids jealous, huge red eyes and a high-pitched voice that made me dislike her the moment she walked to the front of the bus (lucky me, I happened to be sitting there) and asked the driver for a cigarette. It's a common practice to ask the driver for a ticket, but I had never heard anybody asking for a cigarette (and yes, I do know these Polish words, and between bilet and papieros there's quite a difference). Obviously the driver ignored her, so she takes out her phone and takes a picture of the guy, screaming she would go somewhere and do something (no idea, didn't get that part) because she needs to smoke and he has to give her a cigarette. The she starts kicking the driver's cabin, screaming, coughing, shaking. I was really uncomfortable with the thought she might vomit. I can't stand that, I can't see people who vomit. It makes me sick. The mere thought of her splashing her innards all over the bus made me want to vomit first. I didn't, as it would have been too complicated to get back home, pick up some new happy-go-gorgeous outfit and make it to school in due time.
And then she collapsed. Some guy who had been reading his newspaper in a perfect state of calm helped her get up and take a seat. Oh, the joy, right in front of me. Honey, if you start coughing and do vomit, please try to do it in the opposite direction. The nice gentleman also opened the windows, as if it wasn't cold enough, as if fresh air could actually help her. And we were back to the coughing - vomit alert - collapsing routine. The thought she might even die there did cross my mind, and that would have grossed me out completely, not to mention ruined my karma for the rest of the week. And I had no idea how to explain my teacher "um, you know...some girl died on the bus". That excuse is about as lame as the one with the dog eating the homework. I was pissed off, frozen, and felt no sympathy whatsoever.
The nightmare came to an end when she decided (and informed the driver) that she can't possibly travel like that, and she swore to file a complaint. She thanked the kind gentleman for his help and she was off.
Luckily, the rest of my day went better. Way better.
But every trip taken by bus brings me one step closer to that driver's licence I've been postponing for so long, and to a serious talk with ze parents about this year's Christmas present.
Anyway. Here in Kato it's hard not to notice the staggering, plastered people on the bus, almost on a daily basis, be it morning, noon or night. What first seemed to give this place some local color, has now become utterly disturbing.
So this morning I had to wake up at 7. Grumpiness level - the words to describe it are yet to be invented. Still, I put on my best smile, a chic dress and a colorful, woollen scarf, my scarlet boots (not made for walking) and headed downtown, longing for some coffee, thinking about language ethics and esthetics (homework!), making mental shopping lists, picturing a bright sunny day while trying to figure out what to wear at work as to prevent an unwelcome metamorphosis into an ice statue, as statues don't sell beer and that would be against my job description file. Still, I was quite happy - in a manner of speaking, I mean, how happy can you be at that time in the morning, having had half a cup of coffee on the run?
And there she was. I've seen quite a few drunk men falling asleep and then falling off the chair during my bus trips to / from the akademik. So I might say I've become somewhat immune. But girls? I guess she was about my age, with a face so white it would have made goth kids jealous, huge red eyes and a high-pitched voice that made me dislike her the moment she walked to the front of the bus (lucky me, I happened to be sitting there) and asked the driver for a cigarette. It's a common practice to ask the driver for a ticket, but I had never heard anybody asking for a cigarette (and yes, I do know these Polish words, and between bilet and papieros there's quite a difference). Obviously the driver ignored her, so she takes out her phone and takes a picture of the guy, screaming she would go somewhere and do something (no idea, didn't get that part) because she needs to smoke and he has to give her a cigarette. The she starts kicking the driver's cabin, screaming, coughing, shaking. I was really uncomfortable with the thought she might vomit. I can't stand that, I can't see people who vomit. It makes me sick. The mere thought of her splashing her innards all over the bus made me want to vomit first. I didn't, as it would have been too complicated to get back home, pick up some new happy-go-gorgeous outfit and make it to school in due time.
And then she collapsed. Some guy who had been reading his newspaper in a perfect state of calm helped her get up and take a seat. Oh, the joy, right in front of me. Honey, if you start coughing and do vomit, please try to do it in the opposite direction. The nice gentleman also opened the windows, as if it wasn't cold enough, as if fresh air could actually help her. And we were back to the coughing - vomit alert - collapsing routine. The thought she might even die there did cross my mind, and that would have grossed me out completely, not to mention ruined my karma for the rest of the week. And I had no idea how to explain my teacher "um, you know...some girl died on the bus". That excuse is about as lame as the one with the dog eating the homework. I was pissed off, frozen, and felt no sympathy whatsoever.
The nightmare came to an end when she decided (and informed the driver) that she can't possibly travel like that, and she swore to file a complaint. She thanked the kind gentleman for his help and she was off.
Luckily, the rest of my day went better. Way better.
But every trip taken by bus brings me one step closer to that driver's licence I've been postponing for so long, and to a serious talk with ze parents about this year's Christmas present.
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