Unbelievable. A chorus trip for 30 girls and 60 boys ages 15-18 from protected private prep schools to communist Romania in the 1970’s.
The musical director, our music teacher, must have been nuts. However, in many ways he was brilliant. For instance, he staged a multi-school extravaganza in a large church in Bryn Mawr, PA singing if not Handel’s whole Messiah No. 44 Hallelujah Chorus, close to it. I participated and it and the acoustics were magnificent. So cool to sing our part and then hear the echo across the church.
Before our school chorus trip to Romanian, a Romanian chorus had come to the US and in an exchange type program, many of the prep school families put up members. We housed 3.
When we arrived in Bucharest, we had free time so the Romanians who had stayed at our house picked me up and took me on a tour of Bucharest. It was super. I remember taking photos in front of a big statue with marble steps in a park. Places I would not have otherwise seen.
They dropped me back at the hotel and promised to meet me at the airport in 3 weeks when we were leaving.
I remember going to a peasant village. We were all so excited to see “real” Romanians and real Romanian peasants. We had read about peasants in history class.
As we drove towards the village, we could see a sign which even I could translate – village tourista. Ugh. A plastic village for tourists.
We stopped and prepared to depart from the bus. Before we had a chance, the local priest who looked like his last bath had been at birth, who had not missed any meal, with a large beard that had never been groomed, dressed in clothes that showed all his meals ever, got on to greet us. He must have heard 30 young girls were on board.
We were told we had to put salt on the back of our hand, lick it, then take a swig of tzuika, Romanian moonshine, the Romanian national drink.
I watched a few of the others do this. After the swig, the priest would give the gal a huge, loud kiss. Ugh. And a hug – which is ugh spelled incorrectly.
I was horrified. I did the salt, the tsuika – which tasted like 160 proof – 60% alcohol, certainly not good for a 16 year old brain. And managed to quickly duck past the disgusting smelling, messy kissing priest. All those years of dodge ball really paid off!
We were placed in houses – three of us were put in the front room of one house.
All through dinner, our “hosts” kept saying cadeaux”, their only foreign word – which was French for “gift”. I guess a lot of French visited. Or these real “peasant” Romanian peasants knew the international diplomatic language of its day. And expected presents in addition to whatever they were paid and to the food, including meat which they never had, they had been given for them and us.
They served us something basic but edible. We, being brought up properly, thinking this was all they had, although we didn’t like it, ate it all.
Oops.
Out came about 3 more courses. Yikes!
We made it through dinner and went to our rooms. It was very dark out by this time.
(Later another friend, RR, said her group was just as confused – they had eaten the entire first course served, only to find out it was one of seven! She described their reaction: they rubbed their tummies, looked happy, smiled and nodded vigorously at their hosts, made yummy sounds while saying, “This is so awful”. The response: “Cadeaux?”).
Once in our room, we closed whatever blinds there were, turned on the lights, changed into pajamas. Just then, we heard, rather felt, a huge banging on the outside door.
It kept on. SD said, We should answer it. She lived in the country with doors unlocked.
I lived in the city and said: Do NOT answer that door. It’s not our house. Let them answer.
SD, true to fashion, didn’t listen.
Then the priest’s face loomed in the window scaring us. I was even more sure we shouldn’t answer but SD went to the door and opened it to the smelly, very large priest.
We heard large smacking noises which later in life I learned sounded like a walrus kissing which is about what it was.
As we heard the priest heading to our room, EH and I tried to hide knowing we might be next. I was trying to squeeze behind the bureau. EH was trying to jump in the cupboard.
In walked the priest, okay waddled, with SD trailing with a stunned look: “Wha- was that?” or “Did you get the number of that mac truck?”
The “priest” (in a Communist country there were no priests, we thought, so who was this guy?) said he just wanted to make sure we were okay and to say good night. Perhaps he was trying to get the one who got away (me).
He got a peck in on EH. He took one look at me and I suppose the look on my face or my looking around for a weapon, caused him to stop right there and not get close to me.
Phew!
He left and we did burst out in giggles. Very nervous, frightened giggles.
We saw Transylvania, Count Dracula’s castle and his grandfather’s castle.
Our Romanian guide said she did not understand why Count Dracula had such a bad reputation.
She went on to say: Count Dracula dissuaded his enemies, the Turks, by putting the heads of Turkish prisoners on stakes across the border. He also did drink the blood of his enemy prisoners.
I rather thought that was enough to give him his bad rep.
This same guide would order our meals ahead of time. A flat fried I-don’t-know-what appeared on our plates. Someone asked what it was and the guide unwisely told us in broken English: “brains”. I had taken a tiny taste – this was before my bravery, or hunger, re unusual food showed up later in life. But after the guides’ disclosure, many “brains” remained on the plates uneaten. With many hungry teenagers. The guide did learn her lesson though.
On the bus, we had been told not to take photos on a certain leg of the trip. My very smart friend EH, who had decided several months before she would learn a new word a day but often misused them in sentences thus providing much hilarity, pointed out some buildings on that leg saying they were nuclear power plants. Oo, oo: we wondered if we should let the US State Dept or US Dept of Defense know of our discovery. She figured the Romanian authorities thought we were naïve and dumb teenagers so wouldn’t know what we were looking at. But she knew.
In touring Count Dracula’s castle, she and I had diverted from the crowd to explore outside the castle. Oops. We were yelled at by very serious Communist Romanian soldiers and told very sternly to stop taking photos. Fortunately, we spoke charades. We wondered if we’d see home again and what the heck could be behind Count Dracula’s castle that was a worry. Maybe a real vampire? At the thought, we hurried back to the bus.
When we got back to Bucharest, the three singers kept their promise and showed up at the airport. With three large bags of luggage.
“Could you check this for our friend?”
Gulp. I may not be adventuresome re eating brains in Transylvania, but I was smart enough not to take strange luggage. Although I was curious. I should have asked to open them although I doubt they would have. Instead, trying to buy time to think, I asked:
Me: Where would your friend pick it up?
I think I was meeting my parents in Europe.
Singers: Wherever you stop first.
Me: What’s in them?
Singers: Sheet music.
Me, stalling, trying to think, could it be legit?: How much do they weigh?
Singers: Approximately 50 lbs.
Wow. 50 lbs. of sheet music. Am I spelling the sheet word correctly?
I happened to be standing by all the luggage for the 90 chorus members plus for a few more counselors and the musical director.
I answered: ”I’m so sorry but as you can see I’m already overloaded and just can’t” as I pointed to what must have been over 100 pieces of luggage.
I guess that statement was so lame, it was clear I wasn’t going to take the “sheet music” or sheet music.
Disappointed, they made their goodbyes and left.
Of course, I’m now wondering what it really was. Heck maybe it really was sheet music. If so, I’m sorry I was unwilling to risk prison in Romania and worse, my parents’ disappointment :-), to help them.
Maybe it was treasure! Dracula’s eye teeth.
In any case, to the musical director’s relief, we all made it home safe.
Hallelujah.
c. GCYI