Train Ride to Bucharest

Last Friday afternoon, I boarded the train to spend the weekend in Bucharest. I was going to teach the first in a series of training sessions for children’s workers (more on that later). I was traveling light – just a backpack with a change of clothes and a plastic bag with food to eat on the train. Much easier to manage than a huge 50-pound suitcase, a carry-on suitcase, and a laptop bag, which is what I had the last time I traveled alone on the train.

As always, I checked and double-checked the wagon and seat numbers, making sure I would sit at the right place. As I opened the sliding door to the 8-seat compartment, I was slightly dismayed to see that there were already 6 people in the compartment: 2 retirement-age women, 2 college-age girls, and 2 guys in their mid-20s. So much for having lots of leg room, I thought. I lifted my bags onto the luggage rack and took a seat. Despite the fact that there were 7 people in this compartment, you could have heard a pin drop. No one made the slightest noise.

Long train rides are good for sleeping, listening to an iPod, reading a book, or just watching the countryside. I opened my book I had brought along and began to read.

Three of the passengers were traveling to Brașov, a city about 2 hours from Sighișoara, leaving the 2 retirement-age women and one of the college-age girls with me. Two hours into the 6-hour trip, and still no one had spoken.

I forget exactly how it happened, but while we were waiting at the Brașov train station, we began to talk to one another. I think someone may have commented about the wind and rain outside. Whatever broke the ice, we all quickly realized that we were in the midst of friendly company and pleasant conversation followed. Over the next 4 hours, we would spend time chatting whenever we pulled into a station, and then as we got underway again, we would go back to whatever we were doing (in my case reading).

They were curious what I was doing in Romania – and impressed that I spoke Romanian so well. I shared about the work I do in Romania, as well as my dislike for Romanian demonstrative pronouns. At one point, I pulled out some food to eat – a piece of bread and some Romanian cookies. Again, they were impressed that I was eating Romanian food, and that launched us into a conversation about eating and cooking Romanian foods.

The retirement-age women who were traveling together were happy to help me with my pronunciation and vocabulary in Romanian, while the college-aged student, studying for her English exams the next day in Bucharest, asked me a few English grammatical and spelling questions.

When we arrived at the Bucharest station, I said good-bye to my new friends, then navigated the subway and trams until I arrived at the home of missionary colleagues where I would stay for the weekend.