You Mustn't Believe the Legends

Cluj, Part Duexj

The apartment was a little bit away from the action, so I did a lot of walking in Cluj. Long stretches of… nothing. Endless blocks of thirty-story towers, clothes hanging from the balconies. Discount grocery stores with daughters and fathers. "Can we afford this" in his face, "May I have this" in hers.

The farmer's market on the first day was a revelation. Endless rows of women in white coats selling identical cheeses. Each of them wielding knives with samples, each of them forcing the sample off of the blade with their thumbs. It was all incredible. Salty, firm but soft. Creamy and marvelous. It made me dizzy. I bought entirely too much. I bought a loaf of fresh bread and had myself a party on the side of the road.

Drunk on it, I headed for the spires in the distance and walked along sidewalks dotted with watermelons. More watermelons than all of Cluj could eat. I was staring at a massive pile of them when it moved. A flock of greenish/brownish sparrows had been resting there, and they all took flight at once.    

Is it the most beautiful thing I've ever seen? Probably. What did it for me was not knowing what I was looking at. Like, my senses had to adjust, and the pleasure of feeling them come alive and do their job, was almost overwhelming. Our senses are so lazy, (mine are, anyway,)  and when something happens to jolt them, to make you see or feel… I like not knowing what I'm looking at and then figuring it out. 

Why were the watermelons moving? Were they alive like Audrey II, was the stack falling…it's birds. My god, birds! Hundreds of sparrows!

When I'm traveling, my senses have to be a little more aware because it's unknown country, and then when something truly special happens, it's magnified.We're a species that loves to be surprised.

That same day, I had seen a little cat tripping along the side of the road across from me. No collar. Was he wild? He was black but had grey ears. I fumbled for the camera, but he dipped into a little hedge. He seemed very sure that was the exact spot of the hedge meant for him.

A block later, I saw a sign on a telephone pole with that cat's picture. I couldn't read it, but it was the universal "Have you seen this cat" style poster. I HAD seen it. I didn't have a phone and don't speak Romanian. There was no one around to tell. It was sort of sad, but I was also glad the cat was still alive. It gave me hope that the owner would find it.

Maybe I would see it again today.

Not him. A different one I saw later

Slow plan today. There were some streets I hadn't seen, some views I hadn't explored. I was glad I'd taken an extra day here if only to rest and explore slowly.  The original plan had me blazing toward Bucharest like a sleepless comet with a tail of frozen ink.

Ducked under a bridge where I found some decent street art. The majority in both countries so far has been political stencil art. Not too stirring. Here, at last, were some cool murals. It occurred to me after a few shots that I was standing in mud under a highway bridge and might run afoul of a dog or a gypsy. I might be forced to drink coffee out of a tin can! I might be made to find the queen in a crooked game of cards! I saw dog prints in the mud and skipped to my leu out of there.

Currency joke!

Moved ever spireward to the city center. The garbagey guidebook suggested there was something called The Cock Church way on the outskirts, and I wanted to see it. I really wanted an "I pray at the cock church" t-shirt. Apparently, it's supposed to be covered in roosters to represent how that no good Peter denied Christ three times before the cock crew. Yeah, that no good Peter was out to save his own skin for sure.

Better than being the hangman's handmaiden like Mr. Kiss Kiss Silver Coins, though.

Love "crew" as past tense of crow.

  

OH! I saw a weird-ass black and grey crow that cawed with an accent. It was definitely a two-syllable caw. Messed up! So weird to think animals speak foreign languages. Really pretty. Looked like any old crow from Seattle wearing a sporty grey cardigan.

Passed a hospital where a woman swept the courtyard with a broom made of fresh branches.

It started to rain, and I was like, "Romania? More like Mo' rainy-uh" to myself and then out loud. Probably kept this up way too long. Probably pictured myself making a girlfriend laugh with it. Thought about the differences between traveling alone and with a girl.

I think I would have been more stressed out about catching trains and things going right. I think I would have felt more pressure. I know that's all mental poison, though. I bet I can banish it now. I have to give them the benefit of the doubt I give myself -- that they can handle anything.

Except dogs.

Sure I'll be a better co-traveler in the future. A million years ago, a guy in the bar where I DJ'ed, older guy, told me that every girl he'd ever had terrible, awkward, disappointing sex with was still his good friend, and how every girl he pleased just right hated his guts.

He said he didn't know why that was, and I said, "Probably all for the same reason, because you're not having sex with them anymore."

He laughed at that with the kind of laugh that comes from loving yourself. I was still at the age where I was too proud of myself for saying something people liked, so I repeated it to him the next time I saw him and then again on another night with diminishing returns.

 "I was like, "the ones you sucked with are happy you're not putting them in that position anymore, and the ones who liked it are mad they're not getting it. Right?"

And finally, he was like, "I got it the first time, and it's my life we're talking about, not some Dorothy Parker drinking game. And quips are better when you don’t' explain them, and go play some songs, kid."

Long walk to the house of holy chickens, and the neighborhood was getting a little seedier, but this paid off because seedy nabes are where cities stuff their second-hand shops. Replaced my shredded wheat shirts with some cool hand-me-downs.  Fun little jacket with a German flag on the shoulder. They're just mad for Germany here.

Finally found the church, and it was cock-a-doodle closed.  Nice spire. Fence had a chicken theme. Guess this excursion….laid an egg. Hee haw. What's that Ms. Parker? You would like me to leave the table? Understood.

Happy little ramble back to the main square where they have a big church and statue of the Raven King, Matthias Corvinus. He's the king of Hungary that Romania loves too! Got fliered by a college kid for some kind of protest.

He thought I was French and approached me speaking that language. Was it the German patch on my shoulder? What gives? I made the signals that mean "Not French. No talk that. I English. English talk me."

He was like, "You have to come to this protest tonight. The government is letting a shitty company move a village off of a mountain because it has gold in it. They use cyanide to get the gold out, and if the villagers come back after, the land is ruined. There are laws against this, but the government has made exceptions for this company. They want the gold!"

I think this is the plot of the song One Tin Soldier.

I wanted to take pictures of a Romanian protest, so I decided to stick around. Got some coffee and a hamburger and read more You Can't Win (very long, oversized book, but compelling) and got some Campari and Orange juice. It made the orange taste like grapefruit!

Then I messed around on a few more streets, came back and planted myself in the plaza for two hours just reading and enjoying the sun. Finished the book. I've brought this thing on three separate trips and never made a dent in it. Take that!

I was approached by several folks trying to sell me bibles. I was like, "Not bible. No read that. No buy."

One dude charged at me saying in English, "Moneymoneycigarettecigarette" which was funny. I gave him nothingnothing. Thought about buying a pack of cigs to fend off bums with, though. I don't smoke, so I won't mind giving them away.

Rain cleared up, and it was just a gorgeous two hours of reading in a wide plaza under deep blue skies with enormous clouds. 

The protest was very quiet. A few drums, lots of flags. No yelling. A camera crew was covering it, interviewing some of the kids. I liked that the big statue in the square showed soldiers holding flags too. It made the protest seem historic.

Grabbed a cab before King Midas and the cops showed up swinging gold batons.

The driver asked me if I were in Romania to look for vampires. I told him no, and then he was like, "Is just legends, you know this, right?" and I was like, "Yes, just stories," and he was like, "You mustn't believe it!" and he seemed upset. Like, dude, you brought it up.

I can see a native being worried about the outside world thinking the only thing cool about your country is monsters. We drove in silence, and then he made a disgusted noise. A teenager was crossing in front of the car very slowly. He wore a braided metal belt and was rolling his hips in a provocative way. I though the cab driver was angry that he was seeing a ladyboy.

Like, in his mind it was like, "Ach, I JUST got the American to forget about vampires, and now he's going to think the country is full of these people! I can't win!"

Of course, I wanted to see the ladyboy, so I turned back, and… it was just a normal boy with a fucking stick for a leg. His hips rolled because that's how you walk when you have not a leg but instead have a thin metal pole. It was… horrible. I made the same noise as the driver and then we were friends.

Then I paid him and we were even better friends.

Went upstairs and packed. Booked a 1:30am night train to Bucharest. It was around 8pm. Should I sleep? Would I make the train if I did? I ate some toasted bread and sheep's cheese and dozed off.

Woke up in time. Geared up, shoved the keys in the mailbox and went out into the Romanian night. Women giggled from a balcony unseen. Cars went by. Cabs? Nope. I gave myself an hour in case I had to walk, but sure wanted a cab.

Walked to the gas station.  Passed the telephone pole where the cat poster was, but the poster was gone, torn down.  I was sure I was at the same telephone pole. Had my seeing the cat coincided with others seeing it? Had someone just torn it to be mean? Was it old? When I saw the cat, had it already been back home a long time? Was there a missing leg poster for stickboy? Cluj, the classic detective game.

Waited on a cold corner in the dark for a cab. Would a traveling companion have liked this? I didn't. But I accepted it. I bet she would too. I want to be with other people like I am with myself.

I was sure a cab would come, and one did.

Made it to the night train!