Excuse Me, Please Can You Help Me Search For My Lost Pen Pal?

A friend of mine vividly remembers this phrase from his GCSE French. How many of you remember the days of Tricolore when you thought that every conversation in France started with strangely Greek sounding country music and always involved a gruff sounding man called Jean-Pierre who lived in La Rochelle?

Well, I'm revisiting those happy memories, because as I mentioned in my last post, I'm trying to learn Romanian. I have figured that the key to being happy in Bucharest will be knowing the language and therefore being able to get to grips with the local men.... sorry I mean culture....

I suppose the process is marginally less painful than those days in Secondary School. At least the the boys in my form are no longer flicking dried snot at the back of my head or passing notes behind my back that say 'Siani smells!' And I don't have to mindlessly repeat 'I want a ham sandwich' over and over as the card is held up in the air by a teacher who is seriously lacking in enthusiasm. Our teacher, whose name I can't even remember, made it plainly obvious that he would much rather be sitting in the staff room eating a baguette au camembert or whatever than teaching us. It also seemed that the French Department only had five cards- a ham sandwich, a cheese sandwich, vegetables, chips and steak. For some reason, family holidays in France never helped me in my language acquisition skills either, maybe because we spent most of our time looking round cathedrals (sorry, Mum) or in the pool, not conversing with the locals.

But being an adult with no GCSE or A-Level exam looming, I can learn a little bit at a time, usually in the car on the way to work. The only thing about that is that mouthing Romanian phrases to yourself makes you look a bit mad. Last week, on the way to work, as I was repeating the phrases in 'Unit 3 - Useful Vocabulary', I had to stop at some traffic lights. Engrossed in my studies, I happened to turn my head and saw a group of my Year 10s standing by the side of the road staring at me. I gave them a little wave and sped off, secure in the knowledge that their suspicion that “Miss is actually bonkers” were now confirmed. Actually, I think they realised this after I got on the floor and pretended to be a banana when they were in Year 8.

Anyway, moving swiftly on, I am determined that I am going to use this move as a chance to learn a new skill ie a language. Something to engage my brain in a new and different way. I'm very proud that I now know how to answer should I ever be asked how many sons and how many daughters I have. I can also find my way to the bus station and ask a shopkeeper for a kilo of green olives and a litre of milk. And the verb structures are starting to make sense in my head, although so far I'm still only on the present tense.

But it's not quite as simple as that. Learning Romanian is about me embracing a new life and starting to mentally detach myself from everything here. Strangely enough, yesterday a colleague at work remarked on how different I look. I have recently dyed my hair a shade later and got new glasses, but I'm also walking and carrying myself differently. I feel lighter, happier, as if I can't wait for what's going to happen next, like a huge weight has been lifted from my shoulders.

If my life was a book, this would be a new chapter. It would be entitled 'Siani Gets a Life'. If it was a chapter in a Tricolore textbook it would be entitled 'Siani Leaves La Rochelle – The Future Tense'.

Bucharest...Really?

I'm back. It's been a while. Sorry. Life took over for a short time and owing to work and other boring stuff I wasn't able to write. In fact, because of my huge workload I wasn't able to do anything except sit on my ever-increasing arse on the sofa, exhausted. My students had their exams and preparing them for those seemed to take priority over everything else. In fact, it took priority over my health and happiness.

Over the last couple of months, I have felt like I was drowning in a sea of paperwork and spending far too much time at school. Life has been, to be honest, pretty damn miserable. I spent the majority of the Royal Wedding weekend at home alone, marking, when everyone else in Britain, it seemed, was out buying Wills and Kate tea towels, lusting after Prince Harry, or getting absolutely smashed. (Or all three, but not necessarily in that order!) Something, I decided, had to change. If one can't celebrate a National Holiday like everyone else, I reasoned, then life must be pretty crap indeed. On arriving back at work on the Tuesday, I felt angry that I had given up so much of my holiday in order to work when, it seemed, people who hold more senior positions than I had spent it relaxing and spending time with their families.

In the first post I ever wrote on this blog, I vowed I would take this year to make myself happy, yet at this time, I felt angry about my work-life balance. I felt stuck, like I was running on a treadmill, going nowhere but getting more and more tired with absolutely nothing to look forward to. When friends I hadn't seen for ages would ask me what I had been up to lately, I didn't have anything to say – nothing that wasn't related to work or my students anyway. I had no stories any more. My life had become boring.

Then, out of the blue, a friend emailed, saying that they needed a Drama teacher at the school he teaches at in Bucharest and would I like the job? I thought about it for a while. And then I said Yes. Moving to Romania definitely wasn't something that was in my life plan, but how stupid would I be to turn down this kind of opportunity? Especially when I had applied for other jobs abroad and heard nothing.

So I'm off. My contract starts in August. However, I now feel trapped in some sort of limbo – as if I'm neither coming nor going. My students, after their first reaction of shock, seem to have become resigned to the idea and are now slightly subdued in class, not sure how to treat me now they know I'm going. My friends are divided into two groups, the 'Good For You' group and the 'I'm So Jealous' group. Some people, however, seem suspicious of the decision I've made, asking if it's a good idea or if Romania is somewhere I really want to live. Well, maybe it's not the first place I would have picked but from what I can gather it's a buzzing, vibrant European city. It'll sure be a change from rural ...shire anyway. Plus, with the low cost of living over there, I've calculated that I will be able to save over half my salary every month. From what I know of the school, the work-life balance is much more realistic and I will be able to do exciting things in the evenings, rather than just watching 'Supersize vs Superskinny' and then retiring to bed early with my faithful companion, Grazia magazine.

Of course, I'm really scared. Actually, pooing my pants would be a (slightly cruder) and more accurate description of my mental state at this point. I have roots in this area now – I've made friends and own a house. And I'm going to miss my students so much – especially the older ones. I have visions of myself, sitting in some grey flat in the dodgy part of town, totally alone, skyping my Mum and Dad and crying pathetically whilst downing a bottle of the local wine. (Just like a normal Friday night in then!) At certain moments, I'll have a flash of doubt, start panicking, and think What are you doing Siani? You must be bonkers... leaving everything that you know and going to live on your own in Eastern Europe!

Actually though, I'm not telling the whole truth. There is another reason why it was hard to make the decision.  A couple of months ago, I met a Man That I Really Liked and he, it seemed, liked me back. We had a few dates and everything was going swimmingly. But when I told him that I had been offered the job and was thinking about accepting it, he asked me not to call him again. I was pretty gutted. Sod's Law and all that.

It seems crazy that after waiting to meet a man for so long, I'm deliberately choosing not to continue the relationship, especially at the grand old age of thirty one when apparently, according to society, I should be thinking about having children before my ovaries start shrivelling up and I metamorphose into a crazy old spinster. I can feel that happening already - the crazy bit I mean, not the shrivelling ovaries,that would be a bit weird. I already have eccentric, set-in-my ways type habits and I've contemplated getting a black cat...

If I think about it rationally though, I know that if I chose not to go because of a guy it would probably all go wrong anyway and I would regret it forever. That's just the way life is. I'm pretty sure he wasn't The One (of many) as well – for example there were a few instances when I would say something and he would look blank because he didn't know what a word meant.

Anyway, I'm sure that I'll meet a sexy Romanian over there, someone perhaps who has a wider and more varied vocabulary. Not that I have high standards or anything, you understand. I have a plan as well - I fancy bagging myself a diplomat or ambassador (Ferrero Rocher anyone?) who's tall, dark and mysterious and speaks five languages. Then I can travel the world with him. I've already Googled a few of the embassies in Bucharest but unfortunately they don't put staff pics up. Shame.

When I think about the life that I want, I see travel, adventure, exotic places. As I said in a previous post, I don't see myself lying on the sofa here reading Star magazine, too exhausted to move because I've just worked a twelve hour day. Or spending every Sunday morning in the supermarket and every Sunday afternoon cleaning and doing school work.

Anyway, I think I'd better go and catch up on my studies. I'm on Unit 3 of 'Teach Yourself Romanian' and I need to get to grips with those pesky verbs. By this time next week, I'm hoping to be fluent.....