Our biggest regret about our time in Moldova was that we
didn’t get ourselves organised enough in advance to have a couchsurfing host
set up for our arrival. Fortunately though we did get one set up while we were
there and she was everything we could have asked for – warm, welcoming,
knowledgeable and interesting. After finally allowing ourselves to be convinced
that secure car parking is just something that simply does not exist in
Chisinau, we were over the moon when Victoria casually showed us to one, not of
course having any idea the trauma we’d been through for the last couple of days
with trying to find somewhere to keep Trevor safe.
Victoria suggested we meet a friend of hers that evening at one
of their favourite restaurants where we could sample some typical local
cuisine, and so as not to worry about a glass of wine or a beer or two, we
agreed to catch the trolley bus. At
first it seemed like a right pain as we waited in the cold while multiple other
buses passed, ours seeming as if it would never arrive. Needless to say the bus
did eventually turn up and as the journey progressed things started to take a
much more interesting turn. First of all a hilariously drunk man, bevvied to
the point of being an unrealistic caricature that surely only exists in
cartoons, stumbled up the steps onto the bus, unable to control his limbs or
wipe the dopey smirk off his face. After the driver unknowingly tried several
times to close the door on the man as he lay sprawled half in, half out of the
bus, a few by-standers stepped forwards to help Mr. Blotto onto a seat which was
quickly vacated for his use. At this point almost everyone on the bus exchanged
an awkward look as if to say “this is funny isn’t it? It’s not mean to laugh at
this bloke is it? We could get grossed out or sad, but let’s just stick with
the comical side of this”.
And then, just as the hype of us all adjusting our positions
around Mr. Legless was wearing off, a group of young gypsies appeared at the
entrance to the bus. The tension was almost visible as the non-gypsies already
filling the bus cringed while the gypsies lugged their battered musical
instruments onto the vehicle and found themselves seats. Within a few minutes
one of the group had started fiddling with his guitar, plucking at various
strings and humming incoherently. His friend who sat opposite joined in
absentmindedly, tapping on the edge of his drum and beating his foot loosely on
the muddy floor. Gradually the group of half a dozen or so joined in, very
organically, expertly following each other’s lead and singing along enthusiastically.
The rest of the busload couldn’t help but smile at the impromptu performance,
blown away by how genuinely the boys were playing and singing. A few lookers-on
began clapping or tapping in time, some even tried to sing along, but everyone
(except maybe Mr. Boozy who I don’t think physically could) was grinning and
laughing, thoroughly enjoying and becoming involved in the performance. It was
impressive and incredible how such a simple thing as a few young gypsies
busting out a tune on a trolley bus could bring so much pleasure to so many
different people.
We had been concerned at the beginning of the spontaneous
number that the purposes of the exercise would become clear when a hat was
passed around, accompanied by a pleading face and insistent requests for money.
When we realised that this wasn’t the musicians’ agenda at all we felt a little
guilty, ashamed of ourselves for having jumped to a conclusion based on a
stereo-type (even if that stereo-type is not founded on nothing). In comparing
impressions with Victoria afterwards though we found that we weren’t in the
least bit out of line. Having been born and brought up in Moldova and living in
Chisinau for her entire adult life, she could not stress enough that this is
not a normal occurrence; she had never seen anything like this display before,
and had also jumped to the same conclusion based not on an unjustified
stereo-type, but on her previous experience. What a truly remarkable and unique
Moldovan experience: gypsies breaking into song on a trolley bus.
No comments:
Post a Comment