Romanian Experience

This past Thursday I had a "Romanian Experience". This is an exspression that we have come up with here to explain when something happens to us that is truly unique to Romania. We do not pass judgement, it is not right or wrong, just different. So Thursday is the only day that we can pick up international packages from the post office. Melanie missed her opportunity to pick hers up last week and knew that she had more this week. Knowing that she would have an arm load of boxes, I offered to drive her(she does not drive in Romania). I parked behind the post office where I always do. We got back into the car and noticed that was a ticket under my windshield wiper, it was a parking ticket. There are several different types of police here and I do not completely understand the different jurisdictions and responsibilities, but I got this ticket from the community police. They are slightly different from the normal police. I got the ticket at 11:15 AM and I was ordered to appear at the Police station at 1:00 PM the same day. I was a bit confused for many reasons. I never saw any no parking signs. Signage is not as specific here as it is in the States. In many ways the most frustrating and exhausting part of a foreign culture is not understanding the "unwritten rules". So I talked to Roberta, the pastor here, and she explained to me where to go for my appearance. She said that she would be happy to go and translate for me. Keep in mind that my Romanian is greatly improving, I do not speak it perfectly, but I understand alot. I am pretty comfortable in most situations that I can communicate well enough to get by. When it comes to the police, legal, or governmental issues I always want a translator in these situations. So I stopped by her house on the way down to the police station to meet Roberta, but she was not back from a pastoral visit. I did not want to be late and I figured that the police would just want me to pay a fine. How hard could it be? I thought I can handle this.
You also must understand a little about about our car. In Romania you can tell where a car is from by simply looking at the license plate. Our car is registered to the Church of the Nazarene in Bucharest, so our plate says we are from Bucharest. Now Bucharest drivers have a famous reputation for being bad drivers. Also police are far more likely to ticket a Bucharest car up in this region of Romania. So I went down town and walked into the police station all by myself. The ticket says nothing about how much the fine will be, so I have no idea what to expect. I am taken into a large room with about eight male and two female officers who were sitting around smoking and drinking coffee. This was incrediblely intimidating for me as a foreigner. This is were I usually announce in Romanian that I only speak a little Romanian, but this time I decide that I am just going to go for it. So one policeman says you are the one from Bucharest parked behind the post office. I answered him that my car was from Bucharest but we lived here in Sighisoara. Another asked how long I have lived here, and I answered six months. He complimented me and said that I had learned Romanian very well. They then asked for my passport but I now have my VISA that allows us to stay one year. We have humanitarian VISAs for the work that we do here, and says that we are American. This has gotten Karen out of a ticket already once, just by itself alone. So the policeman that had my ticket and information did some paerwork while I made more small talk with the other officers. Eventually he made me sign something, told me something about where not to park again, and then said thank you and goodbye. He did not fine me at all! I do not know his reasons for letting me off, if it was because I was not actually from Bucharest, if it was the humanitarian VISA, or if it easier for him to let me off. It may have been a combination of factors, but I strongly feel that it was my willingness and ability to speak their language. I walked out obviously happy to not have to pay a fine, but also proud of my assimilation into the society here. It happens so slowly, that it is hard to even notice sometimes. Then an incident like this happens and I realize how far I have come in a short period of time. Maurice