A Seashore Holiday*
*This is a little story which I wrote almost a year ago in Romanian and it's pur fiction. The english version couldn't be done without Jen's help. And, yes is the same Jen which beat two punks in Vama Veche few months ago for cutting the line at the pancakery. You can find her at http://blog.mostly-harmless.ro.
All the people in Bucharest are relentlessly searching for a virgin beach. An isolated beach, without other people, without manele(1), without gypsies with sunflower seeds and fruits, without, “don't spend you money on bullshit, take some pictures of your kids”, without baby tigers and monkeys on a leash, without pizza made from scraps and bored or impertinent waiters, without Britney shouting in your head at 2 AM, etc.
Well ... I found that sort of beach. I identified it. I found out how can I get there and what villages are around it. I know all about it.
Ok. Now ... I have to organize things.
Because I plan to spend there almost 2 weeks, I have to find food and water sources. Let's say water shall not be a problem. But food ... this is more difficult than expected. Shit ... I cannot eat canned food for 2 weeks. I trust myself that years spend in dormitories haven't passed me by without reason and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't starve to death because I couldn't make myself a soup. Thus, I decided to locally identify all the food sources available. Good.
Fishing is excluded from the start because is the only one thing for which I don't have the compulsory patience. The only solution is to find a potato, a tomato, a chicken or something in the village…
“Hello!”
“Hello to you too…”
“Do you have chickens for sale? I would like to buy a chicken from you.”
“Well, I don’t really have any… Let me ask the wife. But I see you’re a schooled boy… Are you a teacher? What the hell are you doing in the village in July?”
And without waiting for my answer:
“…Wiiiife! Maaary! Mary, can’t you hear me? Your hearing be damned!”
”What’s wrong? Why are you yelling like an idiot, do you want the whole village to hear us?”
“Your mother’s an idiot… Shut up and come to the gate, someone’s here to see us.”
“Hello, missus…”
“Hello…”
”I’d like to buy a hen from you. How much will it be if you slaughter it for me, too?”
”Well…whatever you feel is ok…”
”Is a hundred thousand alright?”
”It’s ok, it’s ok. Give me the money.”
I give her the money and she disappears in the back of the house. After a while, I hear birds running around and the squawking of a hen, which stops abruptly.
“What you name, my boy?”
”John.”
“Wanna drink some brandy?”
I look at him. Red-haired and sun burnt. I’m sure he’s Russian. If I start drinking with him I’ll have to crawl back to my tent.
“I’ll drink!”
The redhead goes inside the house and comes out not long after with two chipped glasses. He picks up a bottle and pours.
“So… are you a teacher?”
”Uhh… no, I’m not. I’m here on vacation. I have my tent on the beach, next to a tree that’s been struck by lightning. I don’t know what the place is called, but every morning the border patrol goes by.”
”Ohh… Podovatz’s Boat.”
“That’s what it’s called?”
”Yeah. Like 20 years ago this Podovatz guy got drunk and took his boat out to sea at night. The moon was full and the border patrol saw him, but they didn’t know who he was. They hailed him and told him to stop, but he took off his pants and mooned them. They shot the boat… they weren’t much more sober… and they pierced his boat. Podovatz was close to the shore… the wind was blowing and the boat turned over and he was caught under it. The idiot died 5 feet from the beach because he was too drunk to get out from under the boat.”
“Uhh, I’m sorry. Did he have children?”
“No, he didn’t. He got mixed up with a Turkish woman and she laid him under a spell. The town buried him. Do you want more brandy?”
“Sure.”
It’s quiet. I shut up and drink the brandy.
“Done, mister. Here’s your hen. I put it in a plastic bag for you.”
“Thank you, missus, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.”
A fly is buzzing around, dazed from the heat. A dog is barking in the distance.
“Do you happen to have some potatoes, too?”
“I don’t even have potatoes for myself, but you can buy from Pandelica (3) down the road. Twenty thousand a kilo.”
“Where does he live?”
I get my info, I finish my glass and I leave.
I find Pandele’s house. I knock at the gate, a dog barks at me. No one answers. I knock louder. A neighbor from across the street comes out and I ask:
”Good day. Do you happen to know where Mr. Pandele is? I’d like to buy some potatoes from him.”
”Well he’s not at home, he’s at Legs’ tavern.”
”Can you tell me how to get there?”
”Well you go down the road here… then you turn left on the second alley and you get behind the church. From there you go through the graveyard. The tavern’s right across the road, on the right.”
I go down the road, I make the left turn, I end up behind the church, I go through the graveyard and I find the tavern. I go in… a smell hits me. It reminds me of my grandfather’s restaurant. Smells like old beer. I ask the innkeeper:
“Hello. Please, where can I find Mr. Pandele?”
”There, in the corner. The one with the torn shirt.”
I bravely go toward the table in the corner. Behind me, the innkeeper is reluctantly talking to a certain Mr. Belitu’(2) who is insistently asking for credit and promising he’ll pay at the end of the month.
“Hello.”
”Mmmhello.”
“Mr. Pandele?”
”Hisself. Whadja want?”
“Well, you see… I talked to misteeer (damn it, I forgot to ask his name)… I don’t know what he’s called, but he’s red-haired and his house is next to a crooked pole”
“Ohh, Nelu (4), Horseshoe’s son… And what do you want?”
”Well, Mr. Nelu told me I could buy potatoes from you. Can I?”
”Why sure you can… Sure, sure… But can you buy a round of brandy first?”
”I’ll buy the brandy, but after that we go get the potatoes, ‘cos I have a hen in my bag and it’s going bad from the heat.”
”Ok, bring the booze and we’ll talk about it afterwards.”
I go to the innkeeper and I ask for two glasses of brandy.
“I see you’re a nice guy. Be careful with Pandele. If he starts drinking, you can’t stop him. Last time he trashed my bar and my boom box. If he gets drunk this time too I’m calling the cops to write him up. Here’s the brandy, thirty thousand.”
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
We drink the brandy, then we drink 4 more. By 4 p.m. I’ve already heard all the village history. I run out of cigarettes. Pandele shares his cheap ones. Half an hour later a woman shows up.
“Pandelica, come home man. Come home… Come on… Screw that drink, you’re killing me. And you, why are you staring at me like that?!?! Why did you buy drinks, you and your family be damned. What do you want from my man?”
”Well... I wanted to buy some potatoes from you…”
”I’ll show you potatoes… Sonofabitch…”
“Whoooa, woman! Leave the man alone, what’s your problem?”
”What do you mean what’s my problem? Look at you, you spend all you money on booze. All you think about is drinking.”
…….
I leave them to their fighting, I get my chopped up hen and I sneak out. The sun hits me on the head. Damned hot outside. I can hardly find my way to the beach.
….
“Where the fuck were you until now, you drunk? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
”I went to get the hen. Come on… baby… give me a little kiss…”
”You pig! Get away from me! Go away! Damn, you stink of booze!”
”Come oooon… a little kiss… just one…”
…….
Although I don’t want to, I think I’m going to have to talk the mayor into getting some damn investors and building a supermarket and a restaurant… what the hell… that’s why he was elected mayor.
The End. Maybe.
1 - Turkish–Arabian music
2 – “Belitu” is the substantive form of the Romanian verb “a beli” which can be translated in English as “to flay”.
3 – In Romanian language, the name “Pandele” suggests a dull person. The diminutive “Pandelica” is used to accent this person characteristic.
4 – In Romanian language, the name “Nelu” is the familiar diminutive for the name Ion.
All the people in Bucharest are relentlessly searching for a virgin beach. An isolated beach, without other people, without manele(1), without gypsies with sunflower seeds and fruits, without, “don't spend you money on bullshit, take some pictures of your kids”, without baby tigers and monkeys on a leash, without pizza made from scraps and bored or impertinent waiters, without Britney shouting in your head at 2 AM, etc.
Well ... I found that sort of beach. I identified it. I found out how can I get there and what villages are around it. I know all about it.
Ok. Now ... I have to organize things.
Because I plan to spend there almost 2 weeks, I have to find food and water sources. Let's say water shall not be a problem. But food ... this is more difficult than expected. Shit ... I cannot eat canned food for 2 weeks. I trust myself that years spend in dormitories haven't passed me by without reason and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't starve to death because I couldn't make myself a soup. Thus, I decided to locally identify all the food sources available. Good.
Fishing is excluded from the start because is the only one thing for which I don't have the compulsory patience. The only solution is to find a potato, a tomato, a chicken or something in the village…
“Hello!”
“Hello to you too…”
“Do you have chickens for sale? I would like to buy a chicken from you.”
“Well, I don’t really have any… Let me ask the wife. But I see you’re a schooled boy… Are you a teacher? What the hell are you doing in the village in July?”
And without waiting for my answer:
“…Wiiiife! Maaary! Mary, can’t you hear me? Your hearing be damned!”
”What’s wrong? Why are you yelling like an idiot, do you want the whole village to hear us?”
“Your mother’s an idiot… Shut up and come to the gate, someone’s here to see us.”
“Hello, missus…”
“Hello…”
”I’d like to buy a hen from you. How much will it be if you slaughter it for me, too?”
”Well…whatever you feel is ok…”
”Is a hundred thousand alright?”
”It’s ok, it’s ok. Give me the money.”
I give her the money and she disappears in the back of the house. After a while, I hear birds running around and the squawking of a hen, which stops abruptly.
“What you name, my boy?”
”John.”
“Wanna drink some brandy?”
I look at him. Red-haired and sun burnt. I’m sure he’s Russian. If I start drinking with him I’ll have to crawl back to my tent.
“I’ll drink!”
The redhead goes inside the house and comes out not long after with two chipped glasses. He picks up a bottle and pours.
“So… are you a teacher?”
”Uhh… no, I’m not. I’m here on vacation. I have my tent on the beach, next to a tree that’s been struck by lightning. I don’t know what the place is called, but every morning the border patrol goes by.”
”Ohh… Podovatz’s Boat.”
“That’s what it’s called?”
”Yeah. Like 20 years ago this Podovatz guy got drunk and took his boat out to sea at night. The moon was full and the border patrol saw him, but they didn’t know who he was. They hailed him and told him to stop, but he took off his pants and mooned them. They shot the boat… they weren’t much more sober… and they pierced his boat. Podovatz was close to the shore… the wind was blowing and the boat turned over and he was caught under it. The idiot died 5 feet from the beach because he was too drunk to get out from under the boat.”
“Uhh, I’m sorry. Did he have children?”
“No, he didn’t. He got mixed up with a Turkish woman and she laid him under a spell. The town buried him. Do you want more brandy?”
“Sure.”
It’s quiet. I shut up and drink the brandy.
“Done, mister. Here’s your hen. I put it in a plastic bag for you.”
“Thank you, missus, thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome.”
A fly is buzzing around, dazed from the heat. A dog is barking in the distance.
“Do you happen to have some potatoes, too?”
“I don’t even have potatoes for myself, but you can buy from Pandelica (3) down the road. Twenty thousand a kilo.”
“Where does he live?”
I get my info, I finish my glass and I leave.
I find Pandele’s house. I knock at the gate, a dog barks at me. No one answers. I knock louder. A neighbor from across the street comes out and I ask:
”Good day. Do you happen to know where Mr. Pandele is? I’d like to buy some potatoes from him.”
”Well he’s not at home, he’s at Legs’ tavern.”
”Can you tell me how to get there?”
”Well you go down the road here… then you turn left on the second alley and you get behind the church. From there you go through the graveyard. The tavern’s right across the road, on the right.”
I go down the road, I make the left turn, I end up behind the church, I go through the graveyard and I find the tavern. I go in… a smell hits me. It reminds me of my grandfather’s restaurant. Smells like old beer. I ask the innkeeper:
“Hello. Please, where can I find Mr. Pandele?”
”There, in the corner. The one with the torn shirt.”
I bravely go toward the table in the corner. Behind me, the innkeeper is reluctantly talking to a certain Mr. Belitu’(2) who is insistently asking for credit and promising he’ll pay at the end of the month.
“Hello.”
”Mmmhello.”
“Mr. Pandele?”
”Hisself. Whadja want?”
“Well, you see… I talked to misteeer (damn it, I forgot to ask his name)… I don’t know what he’s called, but he’s red-haired and his house is next to a crooked pole”
“Ohh, Nelu (4), Horseshoe’s son… And what do you want?”
”Well, Mr. Nelu told me I could buy potatoes from you. Can I?”
”Why sure you can… Sure, sure… But can you buy a round of brandy first?”
”I’ll buy the brandy, but after that we go get the potatoes, ‘cos I have a hen in my bag and it’s going bad from the heat.”
”Ok, bring the booze and we’ll talk about it afterwards.”
I go to the innkeeper and I ask for two glasses of brandy.
“I see you’re a nice guy. Be careful with Pandele. If he starts drinking, you can’t stop him. Last time he trashed my bar and my boom box. If he gets drunk this time too I’m calling the cops to write him up. Here’s the brandy, thirty thousand.”
“Thank you. I’ll be careful.”
We drink the brandy, then we drink 4 more. By 4 p.m. I’ve already heard all the village history. I run out of cigarettes. Pandele shares his cheap ones. Half an hour later a woman shows up.
“Pandelica, come home man. Come home… Come on… Screw that drink, you’re killing me. And you, why are you staring at me like that?!?! Why did you buy drinks, you and your family be damned. What do you want from my man?”
”Well... I wanted to buy some potatoes from you…”
”I’ll show you potatoes… Sonofabitch…”
“Whoooa, woman! Leave the man alone, what’s your problem?”
”What do you mean what’s my problem? Look at you, you spend all you money on booze. All you think about is drinking.”
…….
I leave them to their fighting, I get my chopped up hen and I sneak out. The sun hits me on the head. Damned hot outside. I can hardly find my way to the beach.
….
“Where the fuck were you until now, you drunk? Do you have any idea what time it is?”
”I went to get the hen. Come on… baby… give me a little kiss…”
”You pig! Get away from me! Go away! Damn, you stink of booze!”
”Come oooon… a little kiss… just one…”
…….
Although I don’t want to, I think I’m going to have to talk the mayor into getting some damn investors and building a supermarket and a restaurant… what the hell… that’s why he was elected mayor.
The End. Maybe.
1 - Turkish–Arabian music
2 – “Belitu” is the substantive form of the Romanian verb “a beli” which can be translated in English as “to flay”.
3 – In Romanian language, the name “Pandele” suggests a dull person. The diminutive “Pandelica” is used to accent this person characteristic.
4 – In Romanian language, the name “Nelu” is the familiar diminutive for the name Ion.
posted by Rhadoo @ 9:44 AM
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