"I am your new sofa. Welcome to Craiova."

A three hour train ride west of Bucharest, everyone in Romania warned me away from Craiova, saying things like, “It’s full of gypsies and thieves and pollution and mean people.” And I’ve gotta admit, it’s not exactly a place that families on vacation would visit...sort of like Brownsville, Texas or Bakersfield, CA, but with a developing-nation-with-a-grudge-and-corrupt-political-system twist. But I'm calling it home for nine months, so what the hey.
Mihai Cosoveanu, my contact in Craiova met me at the train station this afternoon. Have I mentioned the dogs? Romania is filled with them, and everyone here cautions you not to touch them, that they bite and they are rabid. When I asked Mihai why the government doesn’t round them up, he told me that anytime there’s talk of doing so, people shout and cry. “Mostly women.” Mihai is funny, he should be in movies. On the way from the train station, he told me about the gypsies here. “They sometimes shoot each other, maybe twice a year, but not to worry. Mostly, they cannot afford the gun.” He pauses, setting up the perfect delivery. “And so they carry the samurai sword.” After setting me up in my new apartment and taking me grocery shopping, Mihai warned me about the dogs. “At night they are in packs. And then they are not scared. They come for you and bite.” Not that I’m planning many late night outings, but just to discourage me further, while eating pizza Mihai filled me in on another Craiova treat. “What is it you call the children of the wealthy?” he asked, then laughed when I told him, “Rich Kids.” “Yes! After ten p.m. the 'rich kids,' the sons of wealthy, drive fancy cars. Lamborghinis, Maseratis, BMW. They drive them through the streets of city, near where you live, up to 200 kilometers an hour. You will hear them tonight...”
The train station, like other parts of this city, is in bad need of repair. And after dragging my stuff up four flights of stairs into the new apartment, I wondered where I’d gone wrong. The apartment,however, was bigger than I expected, a one-bedroom with a kitchen and living room. There’s a TV and a washing machine just outside the bedroom door. The bathroom has one very deep, square tub. There was no hot water today, and Mihai said that “Maybe after the first of October they will turn it on.” Post-communist French doors open onto a cracked cement balcony and the buildings outside are lovely. The doors don’t close all the way, and when I asked Mihai if there was any heat, he replied, “After October 15th they will turn on the heat. Maybe.” All that aside, I am just on the edge of the old part of the city, right beside the National Theatre, which is just next to the university. I’m meeting the dean tomorrow morning, and will hopefully get a schedule of my classes then. Because the university was badly damaged in the last earthquake here a few years back (30 years to be exact, but who's counting?) and is still going through repairs, not all of the classrooms are usable. And so classes meet weekends. I’m hoping mine do not.
A few other notes: I saw pyramid shaped haystacks and oil derricks from the train window today. Nearly all of the drab gray concrete apartment buildings have their air conditioning units barnacled onto their shell...one for each unit, just beside the satellite dish. And there are almost no minorities of any sort here. I saw a black guy at the train station this morning and realized he was the first non-Caucasian I’d seen in nearly a week. No Asians, Arabs, Hispanics, nothing. Which makes for a pretty homogeneous culture. You’ve gotta love the variety America offers. The supermarket I shopped at today was huge, but there were barely any fresh vegetables, no lettuce, and when I asked Mihai if there was broccoli, he smiled and shrugged, “Frozen.”
It’s going to be a very long nine months.