“Nothing less resembles ordinary travelling than the journeys of a court. Travelling alone, one sees men, countries, customs, establishments such as they really are; but in accompanying a monarch, the traveller finds every thing prepared, disguised, coloured for the purposes of display; and in the words and actions of men under such circumstances he scarcely discovers more sincerity than in the manifestoes of politicians.”
– Segur, quoted by Charles King in The Black Sea
I did not want my experience of Central and Eastern Europe to resemble the modern, privileged college student equivalent of the traveling court described in The Black Sea. My motivation to learn Romanian stemmed from a desire to be able to navigate Bucharest independently and with confidence. To interact with more grace than gesticulation, more language than charade, and of course to seek sincerity.
I grew up in the United States and learned English as my first language, so this was the first time I’ve been confined to a few words and phrases to interact with a range of new situations and environments. Some of the interactions I had left me with the sensation of being truncated.
Inability to speak the predominant language means being cut off from a kind of currency. I still haven’t learned enough Romanian to articulate 90% of the thoughts I have. With the amount of “currency” I’ve earned so far, I cannot afford to fully represent myself. As a result, I’ve been thinking about how I come across. I wonder what people assume about me, and how much stock they place in my intelligence after hearing my limited and broken Romanian. I wonder how long it takes, how far into an interaction I can get before I am simply labeled as an “other” whose most prominent trait is not her style or her humor but her language barrier.
I also wonder how long it would take to move past this oversimplification. How much time would someone have to spend with me to recognize that I am just as complex as they are, and typically able to choose from a much larger word bank? What is the threshold for how much more Romanian I must learn before I can reveal the elements of my personality that are constructed by the things I choose to say?
I feel reduced. I feel like I seem simple when I have no choice but to introduce myself with an apologetic smile and a scuze, eu nu vorbesc Romana (sorry, I don’t speak Romanian) or putin Romana (only a little Romanian). What else can be construed from that, besides otherness?
I wish I could tell people that my words are simple; I am not. But I don’t know how to translate that.
If I tried to compare my experience with that of someone who enters the United States speaking as much English as I do Romanian, I think I would find more differences than similarities. For those of us on this program, learning Romanian is an extracurricular activity – leisurely, even. Fluency was not mandatory for my participation in this program and certainly not vital to my survival in this country. So I refuse to make this comparison. I chose to come to Bucharest in pursuit of a fulfilling academic experience and some interesting photographs. I’ve been praised at every turn for my attempts to learn Romanian. Occasionally, strangers who heard me apologize (in Romanian) for not being able to speak Romanian have given me encouragement I couldn’t fully understand- in an appreciative tone that translated just fine. I got a few exasperated scoffs, but no one threatened to cause me harm. I never had to respond to aggression provoked by my confusion. Nobody ever told me to leave Romania until I was fluent in Romanian.
My family is waiting for me in the US, along with my job, my college career, my home, and my life. In June, I will return to familiar places and converse freely with familiar people about my adventures abroad. Over the course of the term, I’ve become more aware and more appreciative of this privilege to safely and simply resume.
