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Life :) - Romania

The Big Day and trip report — Part 5

June 9, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

This afternoon my parents called me from their train which was at a station whose name began with K, about half an hour from Budapest. Barely an hour later they called me again from their Budapest apartment. They flew from Gatwick to Vienna, where they spent two nights. After two further nights in Budapest they’ll make their way to Timișoara, again by train. I’m pleased that they’re going by train: it’s a hugely underrated means of transport in Europe (the UK excepted, perhaps). Next Wednesday we’ll be bussing to Belgrade and spending four days there. If I’m honest I’d have preferred a Romania road trip, but with Mum a city break is a far safer option. I don’t take beta-blockers anymore.

It was a real pleasure to have my aunt and uncle (B and J) here, even for just two days. They’d been to China and South America in recent years, but Timișoara was something altogether different for them. They could see the city’s vast potential, but also the lack of resources holding it back. We visited the dilapidated but moving Museum of the Revolution (my fourth visit), and of course the Orthodox cathedral that’s almost literally a stone’s throw from me. I took them on a couple of mystery tram trips and we visited two of the largest markets. In late spring the markets here become quite spectacular, and my aunt and uncle were particularly impressed by the array of flowers on show. They’ve been in the flower business since they moved to South Canterbury in the mid-nineties, and it is serious business. My aunt is now the president of the NZ Rhododendron Society, and much of their travel (such as the time they recently spent in Holland) is rhodie-related.

We ate at Terasa Timișoreana both nights they were here. The second night I had the Romanian equivalent of a ploughman’s lunch, which would have been great if B and J hadn’t spent most of their time talking about (a) how Jacinda Ardern’s government is laying nine years of stability and prosperity to waste; (b) how they’ve worked very hard for everything they’ve achieved in their lives and so on and so forth; and (c) New Zealand should go back to first-past-the-post. I had the biggest problem with (c): I was convinced that FPTP was an undemocratic pile of crap at the age of twelve, and numerous elections in Britain and the US since then have done nothing to change my view. (No electoral system is perfect – that’s a fact that can be mathematically proven – but I’d say NZ’s current MMP system does a good job on the whole.)

Apart from the politics diversion which I could have done without, I got on well with B and J, as usual. They left on Thursday morning.

After a bit of a wild goose chase, today I finally got myself a fishing licence. It cost me 105 lei, including 10 lei for a passport-sized photo. Dad has packed a fishing rod in his suitcase so hopefully we’ll be able to spend a day on the Bega. Fishing isn’t something I was interested when I was younger, but in this fast-paced world it seems a relaxing way to spend a few hours, a long way from a screen.

Life :) - The UK - Travel: Romania

The Big Day and trip report — Part 4

June 3, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

Sunday. The morning after the night (and day) before. No full English breakfast this time. A bunch of us, including my brother, his wife, and most of the New Zealand contingent, met up at a café in the Barbican. Then it was back to the Sergeant’s Mess, where about ten of us, blokes mostly, spent two hours dismantling and re-mantling everything. My uncle B felt honoured to be selected as a tidier-upper; he likes to boast of his “special relationship” with my brother. (As a kid, my brother liked to spend time on their West Coast farm whenever he came to New Zealand. They moved back to South Canterbury in 1996.) My brother kindly gave B and me a bottle of whisky each for our readings the day before. When all the white frothiness had been cleared away, the mess looked much like a century-old tennis club room. The usual inhabitants of the mess, many of whom were at the wedding, form a very close-knit community.

I had a lazy Sunday afternoon watching the opening day of the French Open in my parents’ room. In the evening we went to Wetherspoons, where I had a curry and an apple crumble, and then walked to the newlyweds’ hotel room on the seventh floor of the Crowne Plaza. We didn’t stay long there.

Plymouth is an interesting city, particularly along the beautiful coastline, but the city centre was bombed to pieces in World War Two, and the collosal hideous-looking blocks that sprung up in the next two decades wouldn’t have seemed out of place in Communist-era Romania. Plymouth also appears to have a serious obesity problem. On that note, I’ve lost about three kilos (or half a stone) since my trip to the UK in April.

On Monday morning I had a full English once more, and then it was time to say goodbye to all the Kiwis, with the exception of B and my aunt J, who were coming to Romania with me. This was the end of their marathon trip that took in the US (where their son lives), Canada, and Holland (for the flowers). We took a taxi to the train station (they had far too much luggage to make walking an option) and boarded the 12:05 train to Paddington. We sat at opposite ends of Coach C. The journey to Paddington seemed to whizz by. We hung around Paddington station for some time; our flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until 9:50. We snapped up six reduced-to-clear sandwiches for £1 each from Boots, but then paid through the nose for coffees and muffins: three each of those cost more than I receive for a lesson. I got a call from a frustrated Mum, who had been stuck at Kings Cross for an hour and a half on a driverless train with no air conditioning. Mum and Dad were very tired and were extremely glad to eventually get back to St Ives.

Having loads of time up our sleeve helped to reduce stress. B and J were a little out of their comfort zone on the underground. My offers to help B with his suitcase mostly fell on deaf ears. We negotiated the underground, took the train to Luton, and then hopped on the shuttle bus to the airport where we ate our sandwiches and whiled away two more hours before boarding the plane. I realised that travelling with other people can be less stressful than travelling alone. Boarding was slow, as always with Wizz Air, but we were up and down in under three hours. It was after 3am by the time we exited the terminal building, and taxis were thin on the ground at that time of night, so I had to call one. B and J were staying in an apartment in the building next to mine. We followed the owner’s instructions involving keys and lifts and PIN codes, which my aunt had meticulously copied down, and (in what felt like a miracle after such a long day of travel) they gained access to their spacious apartment. Welcome to Romania!

Life :) - The UK

The Big Day and trip report — Part 3 (the main event)

June 1, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

On Friday night I practised my poem. I’m not a natural public speaker. I was nervous that I might make a mess of it in front of a hundred people on my brother’s special day: speak too fast, get tongue-tied, miss out an entire line, or even panic and start babbling in incomprehensible Romanian.

I woke up very early the next morning. It was freezing in my room, and I resorted to using towels and clothes to complement my thin duvet. Breakfast wasn’t till 8:30, so I read To Kill a Mockingbird. When the clock finally rolled around, we all had a full English. Some of the others eschewed the baked beans, presumably to avoid potential embarrassment in church.

We then went for a walk along a waterfront steeped in history. At 10am the Lido opened for the summer; it seemed quite popular. We walked back to the B&B and changed in time to meet at noon at the Sergeant’s Mess. My brother wore his army uniform, displaying his medals from Northern Ireland, Iraq and Afghanistan. He was understandably a little antsy, and he called us all into the church very early before declaring a false alarm.

The service started at 1pm. To my surprise, the padre continued his comedy routine from the night before, but he never overstepped the mark. It’s a fine line. It was soon my turn to read the poem. I thought I negotiated it OK, and on my way back from the podium my brother gave me a friendly tap to say I’d done a good job. Phew. Straight after me, my uncle B gave his bible reading, as he’d done at least a thousand times before in church. Towards the end of the service, after the vows had been exchanged, my brother’s wife’s sister sang quite beautifully. I’d always been cynical about weddings, perhaps because I’d never been to a wedding of anybody particularly close to me, but this was really a wonderful occasion.

After the service it was photo time. My brother later said this was the most exhausting part of the day for him. Photos with X, Y and Z, photos with X and Y but not Z, and so on. Every possible combination. My brother had planned to give everyone a tour of the citadel but had to can it because of how long all the photography took. Both my brother and his wife go rowing, and the girls from my sister-in-law’s rowing club created an archway of oars for the newlyweds to walk through. More photos. I can’t remember what the car was – it was purely ornamental anyway – but in a nice touch it was decorated with both British and New Zealand flags. Many people complemented me on my delivery of the poem; I replied by saying I did my best. It was a very touching poem without being overly sentimental, and I think the kind words I received reflected that as much as anything.

At 3:30 it was back to the mess. By this stage I had quite severe sinus pain and was struggling. The food was good. A pear-based starter followed by mountains of serrano-ham-wrapped pork for our main course, finishing up with chocolate brownie for dessert. In between, my brother, the best man (his friend since childhood) and my sister-in-law’s father all gave speeches. My brother really put the wind up Dad by asking if he’d prepared his speech. My brother said he was nervous for his speech, but he didn’t show it. He spent some time thanking our parents, admitting that he wasn’t the easiest kid to bring up. My mum drew quite a bit of laughter when she interrupted the best man’s speech to say that Dad fainted at my brother’s birth.

By five my sinus pain had largely subsided, but soon the evening started to drag. I drank beer mainly because it gave me something to do. My brother drank far more than I did. Later, enormous piles of food appeared in the adjoining conservatory, only a quarter of which actually got eaten. The rest went to the homeless. My two UK cousins both complained about their absent mother and I could hardly blame them. I was glad when we finally wended our way back to the B&B at 11:45 or so, having survived what had admittedly been a fantastic day.

Life :) - The UK

The Big Day and trip report — Part 2

June 1, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

The railway station was on the way back to the airport from my accommodation. Just before 9am I put my ticket in the machine at the station and got a nasty surprise. I’d been sold a ticket that was only valid for the night before, even though there were no trains the night before. An impossible ticket. What a bugger. I traipsed back to the airport, thinking that would be my best chance of some kind of refund, but honestly expecting to have to fork out an extra 60-odd quid. The Polish lady I spoke to was very helpful, however, and back at the station I eventually got a reprinted ticket at no expense, once I’d figured out where the ticket office was. The guy at the office wanted to know who sold me that useless ticket at quarter to ten at night, but I didn’t want to incriminate him.

I took the train to St Pancras, then the underground to Paddington, a huge station that I’d somehow never been to before. All the trains from Paddington seemed to be going to cool places, like the one I was about to board, whose final destination was Penzance. My journey to Plymouth was painless, except at the beginning when the only way I could get a seat was to use the loo. A lady from Sweden said that in her home country you’re guaranteed a seat if you buy a full-price ticket, as you should be. My train stopped at Reading, Exeter and Newton Abbot, and passed the coastal towns of Exmouth and Teignmouth. The sea! I hadn’t seen it for almost two years. I arrived in Plymouth at 3:30pm. At this point I’ll give you a run-down of my mum’s siblings; this trip report will become too clumsy if I don’t. Mum had three older brothers, D, B and M. Sadly D died of cancer in 2010, as did M in 2014. B is still going strong at 76; he and his wife J would be joining me in Romania after my brother’s wedding. After the three boys came Mum’s sister K, then Mum, closely followed by her brother G. Finally, seven years after G, came her baby brother P, who (it’s hard to believe) has just turned sixty. All five surviving brothers and sisters were attending the wedding.

K and G met me at the train station. It was a novelty to see G on that side of the world. He’d never previously been further than Australia. There was no question of his wife ever making the trip; they’ve lived separate lives for decades. We were all amazed and delighted that he took the opportunity of my brother’s wedding to say “sod it”. I went back to the train station with Mum and B, to book my seat on the train back to London. It would be a bank holiday; on that day a seat is imperative. B had been in Plymouth four days and, much to Mum’s annoyance, thought he knew the place like the back of his hand.

After trekking across town, we were a few minutes late for the 6pm wedding rehearsal at the 17th-century Citadel Church. The padre, as he was called, was hilarious. His humour put everybody at ease, and personally made me feel privileged to be part of such a happy occasion. He’d previously had a long career as a dancer, and clearly enjoyed being on stage. At one point he told my brother that he didn’t have to make his wedding vows as if they were military orders: “Forbetterforworse! Forricherforpoorer!”

We didn’t attend the drinks session at the mess, and besides we were all hungry. We shared some so-called giganti pizzas that weren’t that big; I could have eaten twice as much, but of course I’d get plenty of opportunities for that the next day. G really amused Dad and me when he proudly proclaimed to a bemused waitress: “I’m from Palmerston North!” That doesn’t exactly cut much ice even in his own country.

Life :) - The UK

The Big Day and trip report — Part 1

June 1, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

On Thursday morning I found out that my odds of making it from Luton to Plymouth that evening had been cut from slim to nil, thanks to a sudden shift in UK train times. I found a relatively cheap place to say on Booking.com, some way from the airport. Having booked it, you can imagine my dismay when I received an email requesting a £15 cleaning fee on top of the £40 I was quoted. What a joke.

In the afternoon it was off to the airport. Timișoara airport is in two parts. Before you go through security you’re still in Romania, but beyond the checkpoint is Airportland, where everything is priced in sodding euros. My flight was with Wizz Air. I had to laugh the last time I flew with them, when a group of Romanian travellers commented that Wizz Air “wasn’t as good as Ryanair”, as if Ryanair was some kind of gold standard. This time my flight was delayed by an hour and 40 minutes, so any chance of getting to Plymouth would have been blown out of the water, no matter what the train times were. Wizz Air flights from Timișoara “board” about an hour before take-off, but then you’re kept in a sort of pen until you finally board for real. The experience isn’t very pleasant. I also had to put my hand luggage in the hold.

Two and a half hours after taking off, we touched down in Luton. I then waited at the luggage carousel. And waited. I got to know all the uncollected bags from the previous flight intimately. The carousel took two minutes and ten seconds to complete each circuit: 80 seconds inside and 50 outside. I was in the middle of estimating its speed when bags, including my tiny one, suddenly appeared. I then bought a return ticket to Plymouth from their “travel centre” for a rather ridiculous £112; luckily there was a man supervising the machines who advised me what sort of ticket I should buy. It’s 15 years since I last lived in the UK and I’m now totally clueless.

I then had to get to my accommodation. I’d printed out a Luton map (an anagram of my online name) which only really became useful once I’d exited the confines of the airport. The walk was about 2.5 km. I arrived just before eleven, barely in time to grab a tasty but meagre Chinese takeaway from across the road. The rooms were numbered G (ground floor), F (first floor), S (second floor) and T (third floor). I’d never seen such a system before, and it would have broken down if the building was any taller. I slept well in room S24, but I’ll still hammer them when I come to “rate my stay”, on account of the underhand way they imposed their cleaning fee.

Life :) - Scrabble

The big day is fast approaching

May 21, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

My parents flew in to the UK two days ago, and I’ve just spoken to my dad, who said he was coping surprisingly well with the jet lag. He was standing outside the library in St Ives. It was 7:20am so the library hadn’t opened yet, but he could get a wi-fi connection there. (English teacher note: It’s now become really common for Brits to say “he was stood outside…” in that situation. “He was sitting” has become “he was sat“.) Mum was back in the flat, and the first thing he did was take the once-in-a-few-months opportunity to talk about her misery-inducing stress levels. Then he talked about the ridiculous army stuff my brother has been forced to do by ridiculous army people, almost on the eve of his wedding. He’s had to travel through the night to Newcastle, at the other end of the country, for some stupid course. He and his fiancée are understandably angry.

Yeah, the wedding. People will be absent who I might have expected to be present, such as my dad’s sister. And people will be present who certainly should be absent, like my Auckland-based aunt and uncle, who were last in contact with my brother in 1997. I don’t think they should be within a thousand miles of Plymouth, and more importantly, neither does my brother. OK, they’re family, but so what? As my friend from Auckland said in our Skype conversation yesterday, they’re going to see and be seen, and to have a holiday. Maybe I’m just being curmudgeonly (now that’s a good word). It all promises to be a very happy occasion, obviously, even if I’m sure I’ll be breathing a sigh of relief when it’s all over.

At the weekend I bought a nondescript shirt and tie to go with the suit I picked up in Cambridge, and what I’d like to think are a nice pair of brown shoes, made right here in Romania. I bought the shirt in H&M at the mall. I remember way back when (early 2000s, when I actually bought clothes) that H&M had stuff that I liked. Now everything there is horribly drab and normal, often emblazoned with slogans with (for some reason) th vwls mssng.

I fly out on Thursday evening. I have no idea at this stage whether I’ll be able to get to Paddington in time for the last train to Plymouth, or whether I’ll be forced to stay the night in Luton and go down the following day. On Monday night I fly back to Timișoara with my aunt and uncle (69 and 76) who live near Geraldine and who I’ve always got on well with. I’m really excited that they’re coming over. I bet they never thought they’d go to Romania.

Not much news from my end. Just 27½ hours of teaching (it’s funny that I’m saying just, but it’s below my recent average). The “expansion” to my Space Race board game appears to be a hit. On Friday I had a Skype lesson with the guy who has moved to London. After our lesson, which involved an article on emotional support animals, we spoke in Romanian. He told me I was making mistakes and need to be using words like cărora. I know I’m all at sea there, and avoidance is how I try to get by. (Cărora is one of the many forms of “which”. Looking at an online dictionary, there appear to be exactly ten “whiches”.) He also noticed I now have a bike, and suggested I join a cycle club. My bike would seem comically cheap for that kind of thing, and besides, I can’t see myself in Lycra. Yes, I know I need to find a way of meeting new people, but a cycle club isn’t it.

I broke 500 in Scrabble for just the second time last night, with the aid of just one bingo. I also made JInX for 73 and two 50-point plays. I was extremely fortunate to draw nine of the ten power tiles. My rating now sits at exactly 1200. My two real handicaps are time management (I struggled recently in a 12-minute game and haven’t yet dared go lower) and knowledge of obscure words. Someone suggested learning definitions, even if they’re bogus, just to tie the words to something. (The word “bogus” came up in our Skype lesson.)

Language teaching - Life :) - Romania

You must be looking forward to it

May 14, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

One day I’ll ride to Serbia. Yesterday I got a bit further along the track that leads there, going just beyond the village of Utvin and almost reaching the town of Sânmihaiu Român. I did about 23 km in all, with the ribbit of frogs and the call of cuckoos in the background. Those endorphins certainly kicked in afterwards. Heavy-ish exercise: now that’s something I need more of.

Last night I managed to see România Neîmblânzită (Untamed Romania) at the cinema. The screen downstairs seems to have closed down, so it’s now impossible to see a film in Timișoara without visiting a bloody shopping mall. The film was great though. How often do you see nature documentaries at the cinema? It was all in Romanian, obviously, and at a David Attenborough-esque pace that I could mostly handle. The film showcases Romania’s incredible biodiversity throughout the regions and the seasons, and also serves as a warning: shit, if we carry on like we’re doing, look what we’ll lose. I must visit the Danube Delta. Perhaps that’ll happen next year if I can persuade my friends from St Ives to join me.

My brother’s wedding is almost upon us. Twelve days away. You must be looking forward to it. Aarghh! Seriously, I’m so happy for my brother, and when I look back and think how he nearly married a complete arsehole a few years ago, I’m even happier. His fiancée, almost my sister-in-law now, is just lovely. But as for the wedding itself, it’s an event with lots of people, 85% of whom I’m not going to know. And because I’m, y’know, his brother, I won’t just be able to slink into oblivion. So me being me, of course I’m not looking forward to it. In a way, it’ll be a test for me. I’m more comfortable in my own skin now, and hope I’ll be able to relax a bit more as a result. My one duty on the day is to read a poem taken from Captain Corelli’s Mandolin, a book I started but never finished.

Yesterday I spoke to my cousin. She regaled me of their recent family trip to Tonga (which did sound fantastic) and the kids’ many extracurricular activities, including, of course, underwater hockey. Do they ever televise that, and if so, how? Somehow she seemed more than 11,000 miles away.

Last week was quite full-on: I had 35 hours of lessons. On Wednesday I caught up with someone from the training company who lives in Bucharest but happened to be in Timișoara. We met at Starbucks in Iulius Mall – why you’d ever go there is beyond me – and she wasn’t in the mood for much of a chat.

The weather is still fantastic. Let’s hope it’s a while before it gets too fantastic (i.e. too hot).

Language teaching - Life :)

Some spring snaps

May 7, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

We’ve had July-like weather for the last two to three weeks; Timișoara has really come alive. It’s a beautiful city and I still feel extremely lucky to have landed right in the middle of it. After practically a year and a half, I’m in no way blasé about that. Today I’ve got four lessons scheduled in quick succession between 2 and 9:30 pm; there’s a fair bit of preparation to be done yet. One of my lessons is with a new pair of students, my 39th and 40th people through the door since I began this venture, assuming they turn up. I quite like teaching couples: there are more possibilities for role-plays, games and exercises with the extra person. I don’t have to talk as much either (that can be a little exhausting). And I get paid more.

Last night I went to Cinema City in Iulius Mall to see the documentary film România Neîmblânzită, or Romania Untamed, at the advertised time of 7:10, but in this wild land advertised times don’t mean a whole lot. I’d have needed to wait another two and a half hours, so I did my shopping instead. Mum asked me recently if the people at the checkouts know me yet. I do my grocery shopping at about ten different places, depending on where I happen to be at the time, so I’m still almost totally anonymous. At Piața Badea Cârțan, one of the female cheese mongers or merchants or whatever you want to call them does know me, as does one of the blokes at the dive in Piața 700 where I get whatever soup is on offer as long as it’s not tripe, but that’s about it.

Here’s a picture of the first of those two snakes that appeared in my lesson. I didn’t get a snap of the second snake because all hell broke loose as soon as my student saw it; she wouldn’t have appreciated my taking a photo.

Here are some photos of a monster flying beetle that landed at my feet as I was reading in a nearby park yesterday afternoon. The coin is a 50 bani, the largest of the few coins we have, almost an inch across.

And here are some snaps from Timfloralis, the recent flower festival:

Language teaching - Life :)

Winding up

April 30, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

Last week was lighter than usual. My biggest job, which took several painstaking hours, was creating a test for the people at the lolly-stick company: something that covered a good chunk of the course and had listening, reading, writing and speaking components and could be completed in 90 minutes and was fair and gave them a good chance of passing despite the ridiculously high pass mark of 75% which I had to enforce. In practice, this meant marking the subjective parts of the paper (speaking and writing) generously: saying or writing anything vaguely on-topic would have given them at least 8 out of 15 for each part. My students got 89%, 81% and 77%; had any of them fallen just short of 75% I’m sure I could have eked out an extra mark or two somewhere. They’re all lovely people, as far as I can tell, and I really wanted them all to pass. (This must be an issue that school teachers face all the time.) On Thursday our 40-session course came to an end, but they all seemed keen to do another course with me. There’s one snag however: the company I work for isn’t paying me nearly enough. To begin with I was happy to do it for the experience, in spite of the rubbish pay, but I’m past that stage now. I’ve asked for a 60% pay increase and will see what happens.

More of my students (mostly in their twenties or early thirties) want lessons in business English. I’m happy to oblige, but it isn’t my favourite discipline. I left that world behind ages ago. One nice thing about business English is that it’s fairly “by the book”: I can just dip into a textbook, including the one I used for the lolly-stick people. Occasionally somebody wants words and phrases specifically related to their line of business (such as construction or car parts) and that’s actually way more interesting.

I had quite a funny lesson last Monday (for me; not so much for my student). It was a balmy evening and she wanted to sit outside on the bank of the Bega. Great. We were sitting near a bar and she offered to buy me a beer. Fantastic. While she was away a small grey snake, perhaps nine inches long, appeared on the bank. It was almost camouflaged by the stone. I pointed the snake out to her when she returned, and she just about freaked out. When she recovered we moved down the bank a little way, to an area that was hopefully snakeless. But lo and behold, a larger black snake, nearly two feet long, swam towards the bank. That was it. Seeing that second snake was a truly traumatic experience for her. We moved away from the Bega altogether, and after about half an hour she was in a fit state to read the article from the Sun that I’d prepared. Where does that intense, deep-seated fear of snakes, rats, spiders and other creepy-crawlies come from?

Yesterday the temperature must have been pushing 30, but there was a pleasant breeze. I didn’t have any lessons. I rode my bike down to the frog pond, not that far, and just sat there for a while. It was very peaceful. The centre of town was heaving with people all weekend, with long snaking (!) queues for the Mr Whippy-style ice cream. The Timfloralis flower festival was in full swing, and because Tuesday (1st May) is a public holiday, many people are making a four-day weekend of it.

Life :) - The UK

UK trip – Part 2 (and some goals)

April 17, 2018 plutomanby 0 Comments

As much as I’m enjoying the warm weather, my flat is approaching sauna territory, so I’m currently shirtless.

On Thursday I made my monthly trip to the out-of-hours doctor and the next day I picked up my drugs from the pharmacy, including (of course) the antidepressants. Going to the pharmacy here is always fun, because you get to see the tremendous array of over-the-counter medicines available. You can get the wonderfully-named Spazz, which comes in a yellow and black box, or better still, Codamin. Who knows what Codamin does, but judging by the box alone, I know I want some.

My life isn’t exactly terrible right now, but my time in the UK made me realise it could still be better. Here’s what I’m going to do:

1. Use the internet less. Way less. Of course sometimes I really do need it – it’s kind of important for my job – but not having it in the UK made me realise what a time-waster it can be. (My internet is currently down for some unknown reason, so I’m tapping this out in Word.)

2. Get up at seven, at the latest, every weekday (sometimes I have lessons which force me to get up earlier than that).

3. Lose some weight. Last month I stepped on a set of scales for the first time since I moved here. I pretty much dismissed the reading out of hand. I mean, the first digit was an eight! That couldn’t be right. Obviously. But then I tried to get into two pairs of trousers I’d left at my parents’ flat. I wriggled my way into one of them, just, but I had no chance with the other. Mainly I need to eat smaller lunches, as much as I love the salami and cheese and eggs I’ve become accustomed to, and far less bread in general.

4. Wear (and in some cases buy) clothes that I want to wear. Not what I think I should wear. Shit, I’m my own boss now. I’m the only person doing what I’m doing in this whole city. I can do what I like (and if I do, I’ll feel better for it).

5. Join a tennis club. For social reasons. Outside work, I’m not meeting enough people.

I was going to write about the rest of my UK trip, but not a lot happened. I did a fair bit of reading (by my standards), met up with my friends who came to Romania last autumn, bought a suit in Marks & Spencer’s in Cambridge for my brother’s wedding, watched Masters golf and snippets of the Commonwealth Games on TV (watching sport is a bit of a rarity for me these days), and got wet. Other than the day I spent in London, the weather ranged from iffy to atrocious. I found a new appreciation for St Ives – if you ignore the northern two-thirds of it where most of the people live, it’s very pleasant and at times bustling town that I was blasé about when I lived there. On my last day I got my brother’s old racing bike pumped up and took it for a pleasant ride around Houghton and the Hemingfords. It was locked away in a shed with a yellow “Danger of Death” sign on the door. He assured me it was safe and the sign was a deterrent only, but I admit I did get a second opinion from somebody else who lived in the complex.

Flying back from Luton was horrible. Flying from major airports is such a rigmarole now, and there are simply too many people in too little space for too long. This time we faced a 90-minute delay because our plane was late arriving from Tel Aviv. Probably 95% of the passengers were Romanian and when I got chatting with a family in their native language, I thought, you know what, I’m not doing too badly here. So that was something. But it was a low-stakes situation, and I need more of them. The in-the-air bit was fine, and as for arriving to the sounds and smells of Timișoara, well that bit was bloody fantastic. Even if it was after two o’clock in the morning. This place felt like home.