“What’s with the ‘mafia’ in that factory?”, I asked my companion. Or, rather, what I actually said was “Ce este cu ‘mafia’ la fabrica asta?”, necessarily exercising my newly-acquired broken Romanian in my first few months as a volunteer in Romania. This was May 1993.
My companion in the train compartment was my landlady, who had kindly accompanied me on a train journey from Siret, in the far north of Romania, to Focsani, 300 kilometres south, to what I had been told was “The best factory for BCA building blocks in Romania”. We were now on the return journey.

Raluca, Alina and Ramona, l to r, with Ancuta behind. Four of the ‘Bunnies’, my delightful special needs class from School no.11, Suceava, in 1994. They are wearing dandelion coronets we made on the day, and T-shirts from a special needs school in Pensacola, Florida, with which the Bunnies did an email project (despite the headmaster’s attitude which was that I was wasting my time trying to do such a thing with them. He had to eat his words, but more of that in a future post about the delights of teaching English in Romania).
She didn’t speak English but, as a book-keeper and someone I already felt I could trust after living two or three months with the family, she was an invaluable companion on an expedition to purchase building blocks for a new ‘half-way house’ to be built by the charity I was working with as a volunteer in Siret, for teenagers coming out of the then infamous institution – the camin/spital (hostel/hospital) – in Siret.
A big bag full of bank notes
Purchasing building materials in Romania in 1993 was not a case of picking up the phone, placing an order, waiting for delivery and an invoice to be subsequently paid, as I was used to in the UK. It was necessary to go to the producer, select the product, see it loaded on a freight train back to where it was required, and pay in cash on the spot. The necessary cash, in the ‘old’ Romanian currency – lei (lions) – was not a few bank notes in my pocket; it was a very large sports bag full of notes of the maximum denomination. I cannot now remember the actual amount, but it was millions and millions of lei in a heavy, zipped, padlocked bag (carried by a very nervous tyke).
“Everyone knows about the mafia”, was the response in perfect English, not from my companion but from a tall, slim, elegantly attired lady sitting opposite. The smile was friendly, but there was also a hint of some joke I had not seen and an overlay of amusement in her eyes.
It wasn’t unusual to meet an English speaker on a train then – there were a lot of British, American, Canadian and other English-speaking volunteers in Romania in the early 90s – but to come across a Romanian speaking near-perfect English was very unusual; the usual second language for well-educated Romanians was French (ignoring the Russian which they had been obliged to learn). Opening up Western tv programmes to the population changed that and then internet came and every child I ever met wanted to learn English. What a wonderful situation for a teacher of English – pupils desperate to learn.
You don’t have to be a teacher
Back to my new acquaintance – Felicia: she turned out to be the Inspector for English for the ‘county’ (judet) where I was living – Suceava. Eventually she pleaded with me to come to ‘teach’ English in what she described as the top high school – Liceul ‘Stefan cel Mare’ (‘Stephen the Great’ High School) – in the ‘county town’ of Suceava. “I’m not an English teacher”, I said, though I had taught English, for short times, to immigrant children in south London and to adult Spaniards at the Berlitz school in Madrid. “It doesn’t matter”, she countered. “We have excellent teachers but have not and never have had a native English speaker”. She was very persuasive and we finished the journey with me having agreed to extend my 6 month stay in Romania and go to ‘teach’ in Suceava. How things went from there is another chapter, sometime; suffice it to say for years more I taught English all over Romania and ended up married – to a Romanian history teacher
The Mafia
Oh, I’d almost forgotten the mafia. “The word you were hearing, was ‘marfa’ not mafia”, Felicia chided me. “They were talking about the product you wanted – ‘marfa’ is Romanian for ‘produce’.
“Mind you, you almost certainly encountered a mafia”, she added with another wry smile.
***
This addition to my ‘About’ was prompted not by something from Romania, but from another tyke (Yorkshireman for any of my readers who – unlikely – don’t yet know this dialect tag which we proudly bear) who has gone ‘self-sufficient’, building a strawbale house, in Poland (despite the post title, it’s in English):
http://winkos.wordpress.com/2013/01/26/przepraszam-nie-mowie-po-polsku/
I just love where blogging takes me and I was surprised to learn that Eddy’s story has so many things in common with mine, including being lured into teaching English. My own wanderings into strawbale building will have to wait for a future post.
From time to time I’ll do a bio post like this, in no chronological order, and eventually add it to the pages under ‘About’ above.
September 26, 2018 at 12:47 pm
Hello. I happened upon your blog whilst looking for something else. What a great read. I chuckled over some of your stories. You must look back with great fondness over your teaching English in Romania. Must be a huge book in there, maybe I could learn a thing or two
March 13, 2018 at 8:11 am
[…] stay working in a voluntary humanitarian project in nearby Siret ended. How this happened has been documented on this blog in the past. However when I suggested I wanted to teach less advantaged students there was […]
December 25, 2017 at 4:29 pm
It’s funny to think of how a word confusion sort of determined your longer stay – and commitment to a country, culture and certain people , and commitment to a life-long relationship to a companion of a different culture (I know it’s a continuous challenge, and the language one is not one of little importance). But God, doesn’t all that help you grow in ways you’d never believed possible? Isn’t this Destiny, or Fate, at play (or work)?
March 19, 2013 at 1:54 pm
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January 29, 2013 at 12:00 pm
Thank you for your visit to my blog and your comments and complimenting words. I really loved reading this post about becoming a teacher in Romania, I will come back and read more!
Janneke
January 28, 2013 at 12:07 am
Great tales! Look forward to more instalments. Reminds me of living in Portugal and making some funny faux pas trying to learn the language, created great mirth among my friends, although I had just as much of a laugh with some of their bizarre English literal translations 🙂
January 28, 2013 at 7:19 am
Strangely enough Portugese has many things in common with Romanian, which means I can often get the gist of a post from a Brazilian young lady I follow from my photo blog – but I have to pop it in Google translate to understand completely. My wife still causes amusement in her school staff room from time to time with her Romanian interpretations of English (and vice versa).
January 28, 2013 at 7:20 am
Whoops! One of the problems of running two blogs is that I often forget that I’m logged into the ‘wrong’ one.
January 28, 2013 at 9:16 pm
Sadly, my Portuguese is now so poor, I can only understand the gist – like you I would need to use Google translate. There’s a lot be said for immersion and I only learned the language well from living there, but that was a long time ago now! I’ve never been to Romania but worked next door in Hungary on and off for a few years doing my PhD research. What a nightmare language that was!
January 29, 2013 at 6:49 am
Exactly the same for me – I was hopeless at languages until I began to spend some time in a country when I found I could pick them up easily. Another essential is to avoid any other Britons there. However, once out I forget the language quickly; the exception is Romanian because, of course, I now have a Romanian at home here. It has deteriorated though.
January 27, 2013 at 3:29 pm
Thank you for the ‘nod’ Tyke, much appreciated, and thanks for the insight into your life and how you started teaching English in Romania, great reading; I look forward to more.
It’s funny how words are often misheard or misinterpreted; I must do a post about it as I have a few gems from Poland.
All the best
January 27, 2013 at 3:48 pm
Well, I have to thank you for giving me the spur to record this small but life-changing episode. I look forward to the ‘gems’ from Poland.