Oh, but how the time flies... It seems only yesterday I stood on a platform at the Brasov train station after my last trip to the mountains, bracing myself against the bitingly cold wind and waiting for the train that was, unsurprisingly, nearly two hours late. And yet, nearly two months have passed since I said my last Romanian goodbyes and plunged headlong into a life as an American.
When I made the decision to leave Romania I knew that I would have to adjust to life in the US, yet I was hardly prepared for the culture shock that awaited me. The country itself has changed very little. Oh sure, it''s mired in a war that seems more and more senseless with each passing day and the Presidential State of the Union address was a startling showcase of just how divided the nation has becomes, yet for me it was the little things that made me realize that it was me who changed the most.
For one, I have forgotten just how nice and easy America was. Romania, for all of its advantages, is far from an easy place to navigate. Even with all of the perks and assistance available to expats, it is a place where nearly every step is fraught with complications and bureaucratic rigmarole: a country where the first answer you get is almost inevitably "no". The US, on the other hand, is the land of "yes". For those operating within the law and possessing some financial means this is the land of the helpful and the home of the friendly customer service.
Friendliness, in fact, permeates every level of society: the neighborhood soccer moms, the salespeople, the panhandlers are all unwaveringly amiable, smiling and polite. This somewhat artificial friendliness used to bother me before I left.
I was affronted by the uninvited smiles of strangers and mocked the forced chipper chumminess of waiters and salespeople. Yet, having spent four years in the atmosphere of surly unhappiness, I now find the cheerful smiles a welcome change. I fear that my cantankerous nature is bound to get the better of me sooner or later and I will eventually grow tired of all this mirth, but for now I am still smiling back.
Of course not all is smiles and light (is it ever?). For one, I have certainly experienced an economic culture shock along with a social one. Things that in Romania were regular necessities or frequent treats - all those manicures, massages and facials that helped me maintain my girlie credentials - have become nearly-unaffordable luxuries. In newly glamorous Washington new restaurants are opening with staggering frequency, but in my new life dinners out are no longer nearly daily affairs, but rather rare treats reserved for special occasions.
Mercantile consideration aside, however, the things that make me happy to be back are also those that cause me the biggest discomfort. To put it simply, America is just too nice and easy.
As I walk the not-at-all-mean streets of Washington, I feel like a prospector returned from the dog eat dog violence of the Wild West (or, rather, East) to find herself surrounded by chipper city slickers with their comfortable shoes and slick SUV''s and I cannot help, but feel like an outsider. Despite all of the recent tragedies, from 9/11 to the war in Iraq to New Orleans, America remains an oasis of calm and comfort and as I look into the eyes of the passersby, I see that they are as innocent and uncomplicated as newborns.
It is for this reason that when my girlfriends from Bucharest ask me breathlessly about dating in the land of male plenty I find myself with little to share. Sure, Washington, with its roving herds of eligible bachelors might be a dating paradise, but I feel as though I have little in common with the pretty, well-scrubbed, and thoroughly normal men that surround me.
I might have long grown weary of the cowboys of Bucharest, but now I sometimes find myself missing the clanging of their spurs. Still, it is refreshing to find myself in a place where I can feel attractive despite the sorry state of my cuticles.
Since my return I have gotten in touch with a few former expats. They have fulfilling jobs and interesting lives, yet, whether they left months or years ago, they are always keen to talk about Romania.
We talk of it the way some people reminisce about college: fondly recalling the crazy parties, eagerly sharing the news of mutual friends, forgetting the bad and remembering only the joy and excitement of our experiences. We have all moved on, but we cannot leave Romania too far behind.
I know that I too will soon grow accustomed to my new life and will no longer feel like a rough-hewn outsider. America is my home and I am happy to be back, yet Romania has made me the woman I am today. I have no doubt that the friends I have made there will be my friends for life, the loves I had will never fade from my memory, and the memory of its wild beauty, heartbreaking tragedy and courageous strength will be in the stories I will one day tell my children. I hope to have many occasions to return, but even if I never do, I know now that Romania will be forever in my heart.
* Lola Gusman is a lawyer who has returned to the US after spending several years in Romania
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