The theory of the Romanian Queue

On Sunday, November 16^th, I queued longer than I had ever queued in my life. When I got to the Romanian Cultural Institute in Vienna there were around 850 people in front of me. It took me precisely five hours to get to vote in the runoff for the next Romanian president. For the first elections, two weeks ago, I queued for four and a half hours and I didn’t get to vote. But neither then, nor this Sunday, have I ever thought for one second to leave the queue and, as far as I could see around me, nobody else left either. My Austrian boyfriend told me two weeks ago that nobody in Austria would bother to queue anywhere for more than 10 minutes. In the runoff, he stood five full hours next to me, carrying sandwiches and hot tea in his backpack, for moral support. He experienced the five long hours but he was still puzzled as to our motivation: why wait for so long, in the cold, only to exercise a right that does not bring you much satisfaction anyway? And so I explained him the theory of the Romanian Queue.

The queue of Romanians waiting to vote was too long to capture in one picture. Now...

For us, the queue is an institution. It exists everywhere and nowhere, it has a will of its own and very strict rules. It is formed anywhere something interesting is happening, something of some (or very high) value: some “goodies” are sold (donuts; kebab; mici[1]); something is given away for free (perfume samples; bits of bacon in a toothpick in supermarkets; mici); there is a possibility of doing something against the will of “the powers that be” (praying to miraculous remains of saints; voting) – in the latter category I would like to include the queue in front of the doctor’s office, taking into consideration the commonly accepted idea that disease is given to you by God and can only be cured by God plus some good will and help from a doctor.

I am sure others experience this kind of events too; but nowhere are they of such importance as in Romania. Because the average Romanian is very determined, ambitious, unstoppable when pursuing their desire. If those fatty, spicy mici are sizzling on the grill right in front of our eyes, we want them now. If those miraculous remains of a saint came to visit our local church for a few days, we need to go there, queue and touch them, so we can get our miracle from above here and now. There is no triumph of rationality of the necessity over greedy cravings. Others may analyze the effort-profit curve, calculate the waiting time and decide against the queue if the latter value seems over proportional to the gain. The Romanian sees, wants, stands in the queue. The very expression for starting to queue can be translated as “to lay down in the queue”; there is an extensive verb there, suggesting not a point in time, but a whole segment of time. It is, in fact, the same verb we use for snow flakes starting to cover the ground in winter, denoting an all-covering, long term action: queuing, as determined for mici as we do for voting.

Let’s think about it: during communism, for so many years, we didn’t have things. We couldn’t do things. Things didn’t exist. No books, no TV, no food, no voting. Whenever there would be a rumor that there would be something, somewhere, Romanians wanted it, whatever it was. Hope “laid them down” in the queue and wouldn’t set them free to leave until it was clear there was nothing left, whatever it had been. We have queued without knowing what is for sale, hoping we would get something – and we wanted anything. So now, when everything is laying around on display in shop windows, on grills and on supermarket shelves or - going one step further – it’s being given away for free, what is the effort of queuing compared to the mere fact that these things exist? Between us and them there is now only a thin human barrier, easily breakable if we nudge the people in front us a bit more so they move faster or – even more inspired – we make an alternative queue to our target that may just move faster than the original one. Maybe for an Austrian this is a lot of effort for nothing – but for us, it is nothing compared to the thought that, at the end of it all, we will have something.

...and then.
Original capture of this picture I found on the internet: "Food line. Sometimes, people would queue up in front of the grocery stores simply waiting for merchandise to be delivered without evenn knowing what they might end up buying or even if there would be a delivery that day". (http://quotidianwonders.com/2013/08/14/romanias-passion-for-masochism/)

And all of this, only for mici or kebab. What about for the right to vote? People have taken to the streets, formed not queues, but rows and crowds and died for others to have the right to vote; they died so something changes – they called this something “freedom”, whatever that meant. So now, when we, the people, have the chance to vote, to cast an opinion and – with a bit of luck – be heard from “above”, what is the effort of queuing for a while compared to the possibility of making ourselves heard? Of having something which does not feed our stomach, but is infinitely more important: an idea, freedom, a voice. What are standing in the cold for a few hours, sour muscles, hunger and boredom, compared to what we could gain: something we haven’t had in so many years? Others might not have had to fight for things as much, they haven’t developed their ambition and endurance to queue for so long – but we have.

What amazed me about the queue that Sunday was not that people did it, but how they did it. Quiet, smiling, optimistic, up to the last moment. Dignified. You might say “resigned”, but I am bothered by the negative meaning of this word. If I think about it, as a child, I was waiting for Santa Claus already in late summer, but I was not crying with impatience; I knew it would take a while, but eventually he would arrive: I was waiting wisely. And this is exactly how Romanian were queuing to vote on Sunday: wisely. I was wondering if it is a gift that is learned or transmitted. It is not the gift of patience, which may be a personal trait of individuals: there were so many people in that queue, it is statistically very improbable that they all possessed the quality known as patience. It is something else: a patience learned and exercised, a proficient patience, or one which was transmitted from parents and grandparents. It is the wise waiting deeply rooted in the collective sub consciousness which knows that, after such a long time of not having something, it is now worth the effort to fight for it; that hope will keep you standing; and that if, by some injustice, you will not get to have what you were convinced you would get, you will stay there and not move a muscle, asking for what is rightfully yours. And all of this because, if, once, this collective sub consciousness accepted that things didn’t exist, now it refuses to accept that things do exist, but cannot be obtained.

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[1] Our own “cevapcic” – minced meat rolls with spices 

Letter to the "modern" world or: Is this 1514?

Dear world, 

Please call me ignorant, politically unaware, childish and naive, but I want to ask you: why are we still making wars and using weapons in the year 2014? You know when it was okay (= socially acceptable) to kill people for close to no reason? Pretty much since the beginning of times until 300 years ago or so. We killed the neighbouring cavemen to get their dead animals and feed our cavemen families with it for days; we killed people because they didn't believe in God, didn't pay respect money to the church and dared to think for themselves; we burned witches; we killed people so we could steal their political position, whichever that was; we killed unfaithful women; heck, we killed women just because they were pretty much useless for anything else than carrying loads of babies. I am not sure when people decided murder is not a solution for everything, but it certainly was some time ago, and we pretend to have evolved since then. We have technology and smirk at the thought that, back then, people didn't even have electricity, let alone cinemas, e-book readers and Facebook - "How sad, can you imagine they had nothing to do all day?" We have (some more) knowledge of the world and how things work, and are proudly accepting the theories of the world that back then were considered heresies - "Haha they actually thought the Earth was flat!" We pretend to be refined, modern human beings, full of possibilities and opportunities - the only thing that might bother us is that we don't live long enough to use them all!

Under these circumstances, dear world, I dare to ask you - ignorantly, politically unaware, childish and naive - why do we, refined, modern human beings, still kill others? Why do we still have wars over territories, political ideas, religion? Why are we using our modern technology to make weapons that can destroy entire cities and kill (hundreds of) thousands of people? How can we pretend to have evolved in all other aspects but this still remains unchanged? Do we really think that killing 250 people with a surface-to-air-missile is more modern and refined than stabbing them with our own hands, as it was done in the 15th century? Guess what, world: it's not. The fact that we have this technology is not at all 2014, when we make it only to use it like in 1514 - or even worse.

So dear modern world, if you think it is normal to kill innocent people for any reason, if you tell me I don't understand politics, where war is a necessity and someone has to die to make it right, if you tell me it's all about each country's strategy and means to get what they want, here is what I think: you are still living in 1514. You will only be modern, evolved human beings, when your conflicts are solved peacefully and rationally, in an adequate way for the times we live in. When, instead of perfecting your weapons of mass destruction, you perfect your mindset and attitutide towards other human beings. And when your intelligence and knowledge, so advanced and refined, will be invested in making the world better, not worse.

Yours,

Someone who is tired of cliches about "making the world a better place", but finds some meaning behind these "big words"

A Romanian on Austrian exhibitionism

First of all, I want to apologize to all Austrians reading this for the use of the word "exhibitionism". You will surely understand that by no means do I mean it in any offensive way - on the contrary, some part of me admires this culture of yours and, after three and a half years living here, I am closer than ever to embracing it. You will surely understand that, in all this time, I have somehow come to understand it - how it works and how it came about. Therefore, you will also understand that I feel now I have enough knowledge to write about it - not independently, but in comparison to the Romanian pudicity*.

This being said, here I go. Damn, do you people like to be naked. Like, a lot. Like, wherever it is acceptable to have less than two pieces of fabric on. Regardless of the number, gender, or attitude of the people around you. And you don't hurry to put your pieces of fabric back on, either.

In Austria saunas are almost always mixed and everyone is naked. The sauna showers are mixed and everyone is naked there too. Because you are supposed to be naked in the sauna, it's unsanitary to have a bathing suit on, and the towel is too hot. Luckily, the changing rooms are separated. Or unluckily. Because it makes women feel even more comfortable in Eve's clothing: as if it were not enough that there is one common shower room, with several shower heads and no doors, and all women wash themselves together - they all walk around naked, too. Talk about "make yourself at home": going to the shower naked, coming out of the shower naked (now that's something I don't do even at home - it's cold out there after you've had warm/hot water on you for at least a few minutes!), putting on body lotion naked. Making human interaction naked: while changing for the gym it has happened to me at least twice to be trapped between two naked women having a casual conversation. Neither of them showed any hint of intention to put their clothes on - the conversation about yesterday's meal and how fast kids grow up was way too catchy.

Here is how it works in Romania: there are not many mixed saunas (I don't dare to make any clear affirmation on that, since my experience with Romanian saunas is limited). In the women sauna, women wear bathing suits (eww, gross, I know) or towels. In the locker rooms, women change one piece of clothing at a time and the showers are separate and have doors - if not, they are very rarely used by more than one person at a time. Why, I remember how us girls changed outfit for gym class in highschool: you would not see many of us standing up while changing pants, so as not to let the others see our panties. Everything was done sitting, crunched, and as fast as possible. Of course there were those girls that would compare breasts in the toilet mirror and show each other their latest bikini wax, but that was done in groups of two to four and always when no one could see (and yet, everyone would hear about it eventually, because, duh, highschool).

Let me tell you why we are like that. Because, growing up, we have been told that our private parts are ours alone, and it's shameful to show them around. You would never walk around half naked as a kid at home, nor would your parents (for that I am grateful though). I remember being around 18 and wearing only a long T-shirt at home in summer, and my grandma frowning and scolding me that it is too short to walk around in when there is a man in the house (my dad). Romanians have a huge sense of shame in that sense, and I am convinced it all comes from growing up with our parents constantly pointing their finger at us saying "That is shameful!", "You should be ashamed of yourself!", "How shameful! Everyone will laugh at you!" This applies also to when we would cry in public, fall down, pee ourselves, or whatever it is that babies/toddlers do that is not socially acceptable grown-up behaviour. 

Let me tell you why (I suppose) you, Austrians, are not like that. Because your parents were more free = relaxed, and you grew up like that. Because it was not a shame for you to be naked, and possibly neither was it for your parents. It was not a shame to do stupid things when you were small, and - oh my! - it was even alright for you to crawl on the floor in the street, put your hands in dirt and then in your mouth or whatever it is that babies/toddlers do because they are babies/toddlers**.

So you see, I now understand the difference. I have come a long way from desperately asking my Austrian friends why this is normal, and what is wrong with me, to accepting it as a cultural difference, or whatever the politically correct term for that is. I am not ready to start a conversation with a woman in the gym while I am naked and she is bent over, rubbing her breasts with body lotion, and I might never be. Also, I have a feeling my towel will stay on in the sauna at least until I am old enough not to care about my hanging everything. But I now understand why you are naked and I am not, and I'm okay with that.

* and it is beautiful that what is called "pudoare" in Romanian and comes from the French "pudebonderie", something quite moderate for us, is translated into German as "übertriebene Schamhaftigkeit"! 

** maybe also because you had washing machines and Pampers diapers, which were veeery limited to us until 1990 or so