Walks of Life: International exchange of heart
Robin Miniter
Issue date: 2/12/09 Section: Lifestyles
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So there we were: seven soggy teenage vagabonds all but frost-bitten and tromping through feet of snow in Transylvania, a little sleep deprived, somewhat rank, and a bit, well, stranded. Nay, no one took into consideration that it might be blizzarding in October when we booked ourselves some tents. But, as the man behind the counter at the campsite told us, it was very odd for this time of year. He was sorry, but he didn't have any igloos for rent. Rather, he picked up his phone and started speaking rapid Romanian. Down the receiver went and out the door we shuffled as he lead us down the lonely street for a mile or so. Coming upon a lovely home, he spoke quickly with the woman at the door as she greeted us warmly and ushered us out of the chill. Try as we did hacking away at that Romanian dictionary, no one could quite crack the code - but the tenderness in the woman's face and warm beds she gave us all conveyed what was lost in translation. Multumesc, multumesc, multumesc - thank you, thank you, thank you! Downstairs we were welcomed into a birthday party, nodding and smiling broadly to the gathering of friends and family. In that moment, regardless of the language barrier, we knew that's exactly what we were.
Tucked into bed that night, Soph and I chatted about what an incredible trip it had been so far. It was all concocted a month previously as we stared at our laptops, clicking buttons, booking tickets, and hoping for the best. With an extended fall break on our hands, the name of our game was an attempt trod a bit off the beaten path.
This is precisely how we found ourselves in Bucharest, the capital city. With map-reading Ryan leading the way, we walked duckling-style in tow en-route to our hostel until he subsequently fell down a manhole (side note: avoid obstructing your vision in foreign places). We recalled how we laughed (note #2: always do so with, not at) as we hoisted him up by the arms and pack, ego bruised but dignity intact. Wheeling around, we spotted a tiny old woman shouting and quickly hobbling from behind us. She had witnessed the entire episode. Reaching into her bag, she took a crusty loaf of bread and handed it to our friend, motioning for us to share amongst ourselves. She waved, smiled, and was gone. We looked at one another in astonishment. We were so grateful.
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