Nothing Happened.

Bucharest

Absolutely nothing extraordinary happened to me this week in Romania.


I got the oven lighted without blowing up the bloc.
So now I can bake bread and roast chickens and prime ribs of beef. I won’t. But I could if I wanted to.

I bought a quad band superslim mobile phone from a store in a shopping mall. After only four or five months of endless and useless self-debate. Thanks to a necessary kick in the tail from a friend who suggested that I stop being such a whiney, helpless ex-pat and take my life back. (Well, he didn't say "whiney." I did. and he was right.)

I signed a new contract with a client I recruited myself and visited the client’s company and put a team together and negotiated the fees.

I bought a new LCD tv that didn’t blow up when I plugged it in.
See previous blog.

I renegotiated a renewal contract that puts my name on the rental agreement so I can get the business papers I need.

I emailed an attorney to get started on those papers.

I spent an evening at a friend's dining table drinking wine and talking about life, the universe and everything.

I ate in a restaurant, went to a meeting, got a new password for an online account, did the laundry, washed the dishes, cleaned the house and drove the car to several places I’d never been before by reading a map just like everybody else does. Unless you're an ex-pat in a very foreign country.

Like I said, absolutely nothing out of the ordinary happened to me this week in Romania. And when you consider that when I first arrived here the only three words I knew in Romanian were “Thank you.” (Multumesc.) And “Please.” (Va rog.), that is absolutely extraordinary.

Ain’t life amazing?!