by It’s been another week of lurching, hour-by-hour, from just about coping to being someone people would cross the street to avoid. There’s a word in Romanian, culmea, which doesn’t easily translate into English but conveys the idea of a limit or crossing a line. For instance, the guy who took me into the mountains in his car last September had me momentarily worried when he pretended to drive off without me, after we’d stopped for a coffee. He said that it would be culmea if he left me on the side of the road.
On Monday I faced culmea at the immigration office. I was unusually free of lessons that morning after someone had cancelled, so (after sleeping terribly) I got to the squalid office at 8:20, ten minutes before it opened, to try to get the address changed on my residence card. Dozens of people were already in front of me, young Indians mostly, many of whom had camped there since midnight. Seriously. They had drawn up an informal ordered list so they wouldn’t all lose their places in the queue when they went out for a pee behind the building. I realised after some time that EU citizens were allowed to jump the queue, and I blagged my way to the front – after all, I’m able to live in Romania because I was an EU citizen when I arrived. The officer at the desk – the only person, when there needed to be at least six – gave me a form to fill in, but told me in no uncertain terms that I’d have to join the back of the queue, so I did, and spent the time on my phone, staring at maths problems that I could use in my lessons. At 12:30 I’d nearly reached the front of the queue when the office closed. I practically shouted at the officer. What time do I have to arrive, then? Four in the morning? Three, two, one? I said the masculine doi for two when it should have been the feminine două. I would turn up at any hour if I knew it would solve my problem – getting my money back from Barclays, which is what this is all about – but as it might not make the blindest bit of difference, I don’t think I’ll bother again. The angst isn’t worth it. (So much of this shite – account closures, being stuck all morning in a queue that goes nowhere – is down to sodding Brexit.)
On Wednesday I got my bike fixed – that wasn’t cheap but I didn’t mind too much because I rely heavily on my bike, then on Friday I felt particularly low. Should I leave Romania? Sell my flat? Is there really any point in doing anything at all? After my morning lesson I had my appointment with Enel, the energy company. Making an appointment, which takes time in itself, was the only way I could talk to them without being stuck in a queue for hours. I wanted them to give me a copy of my bill that was authorised or notarised or whatever the word is. The rather unhealthy-looking man who served me was pleasant, unlike the woman next to me who treated her customer appallingly. In the meantime a large bloke lumbered in and launched into a wild tirade over something to do with his bill; his booming voice cut through the entire cavernous room. I got handed a bill and went to Piața Unirii to find a qualified person to translate it into English. It should be ready tomorrow.
When I got home from seeing the translator I thought, shit, I’ve got to get a grip here. Part of the problem is I’m spending too much time in my flat. Unlike in my old place with the view of the park and the trams and all that life, when I’m inside now I’m really inside. The nearby market is a lovely place for watching the world go by, so starting from tomorrow I’ll go there for lunch whenever I can, grabbing a bowl of soup and some bread from one of the kiosks, or whatever else takes my fancy, instead of just making sandwiches at home. The small expense will be worth it. Then I thought, right, driving licence (or driver’s licence – I never know which to say). Get my own set of wheels, push off for a day or two, wouldn’t that be great? With a bit of luck (I mean that literally), I might be able to get a Romanian licence without having to take (another) test. Just imagine, after all these years of not driving, having to take a test in Romanian. Virați la stângă la capătul străzii. În următoarea intersecție, virați la dreaptă. That would be culmea for me.
One big problem for me is lack of sleep. This sinus or headache problem, call it what you will, is keeping me awake at night and it isn’t going away. I’ve made another appointment with the neurologist for 8th May.
