Morning Meatballs and Bistros

I am quickly learning that while this is a city designed for women in stiletto boots (the female Bucharestians are dressed up, up, up even at 8am when Sophia and I take our walk to school), this is not a city designed for the stroller set. All escalators down and up from the Metro are out of order (and look to have been that way for several decades), and most Bucharestians seem unwilling to make way for our umbrella stroller and Alexander’s flailing feet. On our way to Obor market today, we had to carry Alexander, in his stroller, down, then up, several long flights of stairs, and then hoisted him, god-like, over the turnstile. As a result, Alexander now flaps his arms the moment he is held aloft, pretending to be an airplane.

Sophia dutifully trudges along for our walks. Of course, the deal is sweetened by these little stalls that are on most street corners and sell odd trinkets (puffy hearts, chicks in a nest, plastic music boxes). She calls them “the little desk-stores that don’t have any walls.” She has corned us into giving her 1 lei a day to spend at the stalls (the equivalent of 50 cents) and now has a wide assortment of miniature junk. Today was a 3 lei day, so she came home with a fish keychain and a small cutout dog. We’re hoping most of this evaporates before we have to pack for home in a few months.

It is always a delight, however, traveling alongside Sophia as she narrates her way through the maze of streets and stalls. At the “Nursery” stand at Obor market, where they were selling saplings, Sophia pointed to the apple and pear trees wrapped in burlap and said, in her now street-savvy outrage, “What! Are those people crazy? Why would they try to sell people sticks?” The trees did in fact look like someone’s burn pile. And she is too smart to swap her leis on bundles of twigs.

The Bakkenaki do seem adept in conniving their way into free cookies. At Obor, Sophia flashed her smile at one of the vegetable vendors who remarked on our kids’ charm (though helped by Christopher who snapped the vendor’s photo beside her carrots and then called her Angelina Jolie). Outside our apartment, the kids got a bag of cookies from the Sex Shop bouncer who explained he didn’t need them because beer was his breakfast. (For reference: Christopher and I refer to our apartment as “next to the Sex Shop.” Sophia was delighted find that on the other side of our entrance is the London Snooker and Billiard hall which has a dragon as a logo. Sophia says we live “under the dragon.” Better than her saying, “next to the Sex Shop,” we’ve agreed.)

I am amazed by both the number of places and the times that one can buy sausages and beer. Even the littlest Bakkens were devouring sausage-balls at 10:30 this morning at Obor. I passed on the grilled meats and ate one of those kurtos pastries Christopher has praised. (And this city certainly knows how to do its pastries! All over are tiny windows out of which friendly women sell pastries and cookies. I recently had a walnut and apple strudel; Christopher had one filled with chicken liver). And on the subject of food, already I’ve had a wonderful meal at a French Bistro and had my first sample of Romania sarmale (minced meat wrapped with fermented cabbage--one of our Romanian pals mistakenly called it "rotten cabbage"--on an island of polenta).

Finally, while I seem to have come down with a nasty sinus cold, I am thoroughly enjoying what appears to be Spring in Bucharest. Every day since my arrival, there has been sun and temperatures in the upper 50’s.

Pa,
Kerry