We had been traveling all day across the world, and it wouldn’t be long before the sun would drift away below the field of clouds, staining the sky with burnt orange. Our destination was a little town named Medias in the country of Romania. After flying the long stretch across the ocean from the United States, we finally arrived in capital, Bucharest, and made our way through the blank and somewhat disgruntled faces of customs. As we exited the airport and made our way to the road, the taxi drivers had the appearance like seasoned hunters that fixated their eyes on the grand prize coming towards them. One hefty man in particular decided to quickly take the opportunity that had presented itself before the others had a chance. We thought we might blend in, but as hard as we tried I’m sure we still looked like two deer in the headlights, and the locals could see it. After agreeing to a decent price for the ride without specifying the currency we would be using, we got in the car and poured into the busy streets making our way to the Bucharest train station. While on our way we listened to a little techno, exchanged a few words with the taxi driver, and listened to him exchange a few seemingly vulgar words with the other drivers. Then we arrived at the station. After being such a gentleman and helping us with our luggage, the driver kindly waited for us to pay him. We quickly dug in our wallets for the correct amount of Leu that was agreed upon. The hefty man had obviously been planning this moment on the way to the station and just could not let the opportunity pass. He insisted that we pay in our native currency. After all, isn’t this the price that we agreed upon before entering the taxi? It was a loop hole that he had carefully schemed out in his mind. We were new to this and found ourselves letting him take advantage of us. So we finally paid him a week’s wages and made our way into the station.
The next step was to get the train tickets, but first that meant that we had to find the ticket booth. As we entered the station there was another man posted, fishing for easy bait. Disguised as a kind gentleman that just wanted to help dumbfounded travelers for no reason at all, he led us
to the ticket booth and helped us buy our tickets to Medias. I was suspicious the whole time with this fellow and even asked him at the booth, “Why are you helping us?” He replied, “No reason, I just want to.” I gave him the benefit of the doubt and started thinking that it must just be a part of the culture to be so generous. After he placed the tickets in our hands it wasn’t five seconds later that he presented us with his own open hand, asking for a little money for the assistance. Once again we had fallen into a carefully planned trap and it was quickly destroying our trust in anyone. If not careful we could be guilty of placing the entire population into the same category as these two men. This little man was persistent and latched onto us like a leach. He was not going to give up until we gave him something. After we spent a good five minutes telling him that we were not going to pay him we realized that we did not have time to bicker with strangers, so we finally gave in to his request and paid him. He received the money with a satisfied smile, a generous thank you and a look on his face that said that it was all worth it. As he left us he began to search for his next victim. Fighting the tendency to judge the culture in the light of these two men we hopped on the train excited about this new experience and took our seat next to two older men that looked like they had been doing this their entire life. The sober feeling that we were excited strangers in someone else's homeland flooded over us.The train ride was a long one that was expected to last about five hours. Before leaving to Romania our professor had informed us that these trains do not announce to their customers where they are stopping. Being in Romania many times before, he let us know that our stop in Medias came two stops after a certain town named Sigishwara, so towards the end of this five hours we had to be sure and keep our eyes open. The sun quickly disappeared into the horizon giving way to the night. Tired and numb from traveling all day, we stared blankly out the widow and finally fell asleep. After we awoke we realized that the two old men were still sitting in the same spots, both falling in and out of sleep exhausted from a long day’s work. It wouldn’t be long until we were to arrive in Medias so we kept our eyes peeled. The train stopped at Sighisoara like our professor said, so we knew that our stop would come soon. The first stop came after Sighisoara, then not long after we felt the train slowing down again for the second stop. Looking out the window we saw nothing but open fields, trusting that this should be our destination. We grabbed our bags and headed for the door to get off the train. It came to a halt and we poked our heads out of the train door to see nothing but corn fields to our left and right, only the sound of crickets singing in the night broke the stillness of the night. Something wasn’t right, but if we missed our stop that would start another chain of events that we did not want to deal with. We had to decide quickly if we were to get off here or not. After asking each other if we should get off and staring into corn fields confused, the train started to slowly move again to its next destination. Questions were racing through our heads as the train started gaining speed. We decided to stay on the train with much confusion. Worry started to prod at our minds with questions and doubts. The crowd on the train was thinning out now that we had been on so long, but the two old men were still there. All we had to do was ask someone where the stop to Medias was, but the barrier of communication stood towering in front of us. So in desperation I attempted to climb over it. I began to speak in English to these two men hoping that they might know at least a little; they didn’t. Interestingly we were able to understand one another enough to communicate, broken as it was. After saying the name Medias over and over, and pointing forward while nodding our heads together in agreement, we finally had a sense of peace about the whole situation. Still not sure if they understood us, our only option was to wait anxiously for the next stop. About twenty minutes later, we looked out the window and could see that we were entering another town. Thankfully, my friend Brian had used his trusty tool Wikipedia, which he thinks is one of the greatest inventions of all time, to investigate this town called Medias before we left the States. Peering out the window, he was able to recognize the famous clock tower that stood high in the center of the town. Relief flooded our hearts and we made our way to get off the train once again. It was now was about 1 am. We jumped off the train and found that a short woman was making her way directly toward us. Because of our prior experience in this situation, we were obviously suspicious of this person and attempted to ovoid her. She continued to come toward us so I asked her, “Who are you?” She said her name was Dora and that she was there to pick us up. Jokingly, I told her that I thought she was just another person wanting to help us for money. She quickly replied, “So you think I look like a beggar?” The embarrassment of making cultural mistakes came over me as I laughed and assured her that I didn’t think she looked like a beggar. After we made our way off of the train tracks we came to a flight of stairs that led underneath the station where another woman was waiting. She introduced herself and approached us with a hug. For the first time, we both felt warmly welcomed into this foreign country. After joking with Dora about our prior experience of almost getting off at the wrong stop, we jumped in the taxi and made our way to the base. The town was quiet and still as the taxi driver sped through the empty streets. We then turned onto a dirt road and entered an area that looked like it had been ravished by war. This was getting a little spooky. After bumping, tossing and turning in the cab up the hill on the torn road we arrived next to a three story house with a barren yard. (Honestly, the word base had filled my mind with different expectations of what it would look like. I was expecting a huge base, like some kind of military base.) We entered the house and were welcomed by another lady named Christina. She told us to have a seat and relax while she brought out some food for us to eat and some hot tea to sip on. After joking around and conversing for a while they directed us to our room where we would be staying with five other guys. Safe in our new beds at our new home, we struggled to fall asleep as we anxiously anticipated the unexpected events of the next three months that would played a significant part in shaping the rest of our lives.
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