Right about Christmas time, I took a little walking tour around part of the Decebal neighborhood to get a sense of how the season is celebrated and experienced by locals.

Clutching a camera with frozen fingers and surviving the occasional arctic blast to the face, this is what I encountered.

A little praf de iarna, gen. No thick blanket of snow, just a light dusting. Ştii? This was several days before the first real snow fell (which some people claim isn’t real at all). Make no mistake: the air was nippy enough to avoid any triple dog dare lurking about.

There you have it. Incontrovertible proof that Romania is no longer a poor country. Sorry kids, but when you start finding shops selling pet clothing (and actually seeing a few dogs wearing that horrid crap), then you’ve joined the ranks of the first world.

If you’re embarrassed to be seated at the children’s table, then you must stop asking for international handouts and stand on your own two feet.

Or else just stop selling pet clothes and then you can continue to pretend you’re still eligible for the kid’s meal. Cake. Eat. Too.

Alrighty then, I suppose we’d best return to our stroll post haste.

A local pizzeria stokes the wood-fired oven to keep the tables full of patrons and the delivery car busy. Icicle lights lazily strung about in fire-hazard glory, nearly imperceptible paper snow flakes scotch-taped to the windows in a wintery where’s waldo for only the most stubborn of teeth-chattering gawkers, and a happy little wreath donut on the door.

But, wait, what’s… that?

Why, yes, Timmy, Santa was just here.  He left behind several sacks of stolen currency and illicit drugs for Mommy and Daddy.  It just wouldn’t be the same without jolly old Saint Nick.  Now, off to bed with you, scamp, or else the red-suited fat man will break-in through the window to steal all your toys.

All across Bucureşti you’ll find Romanians have settled on their favorite decoraţii de Craciun, gen, which are variations on the same theme.: Moş Craciun breaking into your house to steal presents.

Think of it like the hoţi epidemic of the early 90s in Romania, only this time Andri Popa is dressed in a red suit and smart enough to wear gloves so as to not leave finger prints behind.

Different versions abound in most of the parts of Bucureşti I visited during the 2008 holiday period. I think it safe to assume that if some particular cartier wasn’t buried in these plastic icons of the americanized Santa, then they probably had at least a few.

If they were hip, that is; maybe your neighborhood is lame.

It’s always interesting to compare and contrast the residential buildings in a given area. Here, in Decebal, most of the freestanding homes tend to be fairly well taken care of with most of those, in turn, recently refurbished.

As the well-to-do invest in home improvements to increase the value of their asset, some neighbors sit idly by. For example, when you see a co-joined twin, one might be up to par while the other half wallows in the relative decrepitude of yesterdecade.

But I love the rare sight of traditional wooden gates in a wealthier pocket of town.  An artistic piece of craftsmanship serving as understated pride of heritage for an owner mindful of classic style, unlike so many plastic gadget obsessed nouveau riche flaunting their lack of culture.

I did not expect the nicer homes in this area to have gardens growing fruit and vegetables. And not because of the winter cold. Apparently, my preconceptions continue to be challenged as some members of the upper middle class in Bucureşti seem to find value in growing their own produce.

Who can fault them? Not I.

When it comes to technical development of modern signage, the evidence clearly indicates the capital of Romania is far more advanced than cel mai frumos oraş din ţara, gen.

Bumped into the home of the owner of the PC-Cooler.ro website. Seems they’re making out fairly well by selling tacky lights. If you’re thinking of starting a business, maybe an online computer parts store can catapult you among the well-off.

Easily the most dominant object on Mihai Bravu. It may not be taller than the nearby, depressing Ceauşescu apartment blocks, but it stands out by being surrounded by nothing visually competitive.

I’ve no idea which church it is, by the way.  I never crossed the street to get a closer look and find out.  You may be wondering why.  Perhaps I was forgetful.  Some might speculate I was leneş.

Or was it an entirely different reason?

[kml_flashembed movie="http://www.youtube.com/v/h45kDRTfJ7A" height="344" width="425" base="http://www.youtube.com/" /]

People tell me there was a time when fresh fruits couldn’t be had in winter. Certainly couldn’t be had in any variety even when the warmer seasons meant there was something available.

I remember the story told to me by someone in her mid-20s who still remembers the first time she saw an orange… but that wasn’t until after 1989.

Romania can be thankful those days are gone.

The ubiquitous amanet stores and kiosks can be found in every city, town, village, and hamlet in Romania. Often in great numbers. And often in quite proximity to one another.

These are pawn shops the criminals of yore would dump stolen goods. These days folks can pawn jewelry as collateral for a short term loan. If they default, that’s when other people come buy it at discount prices over mall retailers.

Travel tip: snoop around the amanet stores when you’re checking out Romania. Won’t take much of your time. You might just find a remarkable bargain in and amongst the gaudy stuff. Gold is gold, people.

I was struck by the dilapidated sign of a shoe repair shop. I suppose at one point it was shiny and electrified magic drawing in business from all the bloc-dwellers. Now, it’s a sad reminder of a disappearing era fighting for a breath of life between the disposable schlock sold for big bucks and made from toxic materials by small children in Asian sweatshops.

Imagine my surprise! An ecologically-sound dry cleaning company in a rundown strip mall along Mihai Bravu? Couldn’t have guessed that sight was coming. I’ll circle back there in the future to give them a little business and see what they can do.

What’s also interesting to note is the presence of a currency exchange kiosk inside the same store. Whether it has the same owner or not, maybe its presence serves as an indication that there’s not enough dry cleaning business alone to keep the doors open.

If the two merged, would they try money laundering?

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I’m sorry, was that offensive? It seems some little teenie boppers watch entirely too much television, then attempt to replicate pieces of what they’ve absorbed. Monkey see, monkey do. Celebrating now what was once understood as a call for help.

The meaning was not heard.

A sociological nightmare of the triviality inherent in the expressions of a new generation. Only, this base glorification has spread to infect your sons and daughters, Romania.

Fact is, these kids have no clue what the gangbanger lifestyle is like and they would not last five minutes on the streets of south central Los Angeles. It’s only fun on MTV. The reality is something these haven’t bothered to comprehend.

On a related noted, I keep waiting for the evolution of spraypaint graffiti from merely mundane tagging to an actual art form. Where are the urban murals that depict the life of being Romanian in the city? Where’s the self-reflection and depth? Where is your story, urban Romania?

And while we’re talking about the ill effects of American urban hip hop influence, I must remark that there are entirely too many idiots running about with NY hats, spun to the side and tilted slightly upward. Most pop celebrities in Romania still have no clue how to develop their own style, but instead insist on copying the dressing habits of whomever sells the most albums in the United States.

Guess what, jackass? You’re not black. You’re not cool. You ain’t down. You aren’t remotely close to hip hop. And you sure as hell aren’t from New York. If you want to wear an overpriced, fashion-disaster ballcap with enough rhinestones to blind Glen Campbell, then conjure up some pride and buy one with a B — for Bucureşti: the city you’re from.

Bout reppin yo town, clown.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…

A nice trend is the dramatic increase in bancomat outlets with privacy screens to protect transactions from being spied on. It’s nice to use an ATM without wondering who might be trying to memorize your PIN.

Particularly since Romanians are incapable of forming a straight line but instead build a nice curve by resting their chin on the right shoulder of the person in front. A strange habit of disorganization I’ve never gotten used to these past years.

Meh.

Many of the ATMs now play videos with sound when not in use, essentially being leveraged as advertising vehicles. I’m skeptical if there is a cost-effective ROI which has been documented in any studies.

I suppose when a lack of effectiveness is calculated, costs for this interruption marketing method will be justified by turning up the volume and perhaps projecting the video out onto the sidewalk. But I’m ahead of my time. For now, the chatter is merely interesting at the first couple encounters.

Also of note is the increased trend of bancomat machines proactively warning users to be on the lookout for any unauthorized adapters which might have been attached by thieves to read your card. Nice to see the banks addressing the problem head on. It is, afterall, in their interest to protect their clientele.

If you see a sign saying Exchange or Schimb, then you’ve found a money changer. Here you can change out your dollars or euros for the local currency, Romanian lei. Like the amanet shops, these can be found just about anywhere and are often in clusters.

Don’t ask why every population of 1,000 Romanians need a currency exchange. We can only speculate about the seemingly obvious answer and probably don’t really want to know.

Travel Tip: Be sure you see the 0% commission. If you don’t see that sign, don’t go inside: you’ll be paying an extra bonus fee designed for foreign suckers. Most places have the sign, so just insist on it.

This hand-painted police station sign was in all likelihood made during the communist era.  Interestingly the word Poliţia is easily visible thanks to it’s strong contrast whereas the directional arrow is buried in a swirl of color, as though it were more important under PCR to know the police were present and not so important to know precisely where.

Ho, ho, ho! Maybe the reindeer know Moş Craciun needs a little diagnosis and treatment this winter. At the very least, it’s nice to see the hospital has a sense of cheer. Big improvement over the last time I thought about Romanian health care.

Oh, this one had it all.  An electric star swoosh thing, the fashionable hanging-Santa-on-a-ladder motif, an English-language “Merry Christmas” sign, and rats’ nest of holiday lights.   And the name, oh heavens, the name!

Restaurant Pizzerie.  Hmm, I think it could be a restaurant and they might sell pizzas.  Never know for sure.  Use caution.

Best No 12.  If no 12, then what: 11, 13?  I’m at a loss here.  Aha, I see “No. 12″ as in the ancient sanskrit for Numarul Doisprezece, gen.  So, if we take the inverse derivative of the logical extension, this must be the 12th best pizza shop?

I decided to return at a future date to test that theory.

In all fairness, the many different shopping outlets and malls that comprise most of Bucuresti all seem to carry leftovers once destined for American stock shelves.  I’ve not seen any decorations for sale in romaneşte.  So, the 12th best cannot reasonbly be held responsible for the careless purchasing decisions of many Romanian stores who carry unsold garbage from China because of the likely sky-high profit margins instead of giving enough of a damn about Romania to order products actually intended for their own market.

Gen, merge şi aşa, gen.

This little doozy took the cake.

I mean, come on.  A non-stop internet cafe that also does shoe repair and sells discount houseware.  “Si mai mult!”

But, wait!  There’s more!  That’s right, Bob, call now and you’ll also get these fabulous, professional quality, titanium, hyper-action, genuine Ginsu knives absolutely free.  Order now!  Offer valid for a limited time only, while supplies last, no substitutes, subject to applicable sales tax, just pay shipping and handling, may not be legal in your state.

M & N.  Not M&M’s nor Eminem nor MNM, but M & N.  Sounds kind of like MNN when you say it out loud.  (No, not like JB.)

I’ve made a mental note to go back there and see if there really is internet.  A quick look-see through the geama reveals no computer workstations anywhere.  And there’s no wifi signal coming out of the place.  But, it does say Internet is several placess nonetheless and I can’t imagine they were just lazy enough to leave some years-old stickers and signs up.

Especially when, in addition to the cardboard Santa in the window, they also have the yellow stickering which  says “Merry Christmas” so clearly they’re keeping current on the messaging.  A mystery to be resolved.  Maybe I’ll also learn why they went to the trouble of making a custom Merry Christmas sign instead of Sarbatori Fericite.

Deci, aşa e. Decebal sure is interesting, gen. Ştii, y’all?

This entry was posted on Monday, January 12th, 2009 at 3:16 am and is filed under Living, Society, Travel Tips. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.