by Dealing with other people’s systems and processes has always been a major struggle for me – that’s half the reason I’m a private teacher – and buying a flat in Romania on my own is all about having systems and processes thrust upon me. As soon as the vendor gets my money and the sale is confirmed, I’ll have to pay my rates (this will involve a long queue), sort out insurance, and call the administrator (Viki, her name is) to get myself on the official list at the new apartment block. They explained this to me on Thursday. I should have the keys in my hand pretty soon, but I’m in no rush to move in.
In other news, I had a good chat with my brother last Monday. He called me during the day – it was a bank holiday in the UK – and I happened to be in the park collecting water from the well. I was able to give him a tour of sorts. Earlier I’d had a Zoom chat with my cousin who lives in Christchurch. This was a delight – we hadn’t been in touch for ages. Her kids – a girl and a boy, born either side of the devastating earthquakes – came on the line. Unsurprisingly they couldn’t remember me from the last time we’d met seven years ago in Wellington. They seemed great kids.
The snooker which finished last Monday was a fantastic escape from everything else. I haven’t been so engrossed in watching sport of any kind, including tennis, for years. The highlight for me was a toss-up between the Trump–Williams semi that went all the way, and that astonishing 85-minute frame in Yan Bingtao’s win over Mark Selby (which I have since rewatched). Apart from an obvious improvement in standard in all facets of the game, the tournament looked just the same as it did 20 and even 30 years ago. In a world where flying insect populations are plummeting and seasons are all over the place, it’s nice to have a few constants, even if they’re just people potting the same coloured balls with the same sticks into the same holes.
Just after Easter, someone gave me a biggish slab of drob to take home. The word drob hardly makes one salivate, and neither does the description of it: it’s a kind of loaf made from sheep organs with an egg inside. I got through it in a few sittings. When in Romania I suppose.
I played tennis this evening. The walk back from the courts is always interesting. Usually someone points out a plant, seemingly at random, and talks about a tea or other infusion that you can make from it.
I had an interesting moment in a lesson last Monday with the twins. “If you could change one thing about Romania, what would it be?” I asked them. “The people,” they shot back in unison.
Here are some more pictures from the lake I visited last month:
