The Old Guard

There are three generations of Romanians who look, act, dress, dream, and live very differently from one another.

There's the young generation, those who were either very young children in 1989 or were born afterwards. This is the generation that a colleague of mine is studying in her research on civic education and democracy in Romania. To them, Communism is a history lesson, while democracy is still in developing phases, something that seems like a good idea in other places, but is not fully comprehended and well carried out here. This generation has grown up with MySpace, Adidas, MTV; they see BMWs and Audis on the streets, they like to travel and study in Europe. They're optimistic and also extremely cocky, flashy, and vain. I see a surprising number of chubby kids here, as if hungry parents are over-feeding their children in response to their own more deprived childhood. Kids like to party, they like to smoke, they like to be seen at HOTT cafes. Skiing, snowboarding, dirtbikes and quads are all requisites. Shiney, huge sunglasses; tight, destroyed jeans; elaborately styled and gelled hair.

Then there's a generation of about 26-45 year olds. These people recall Communism, indeed, they lived and studied and worked through a lot of it. They are eager to embrace the future, though, and they enroll their children in German schools and soccer practices, save up to buy a car. They enjoy shopping and dressing in a rather Western style. They speak English, they have maybe traveled abroad, they are making more plans for the future.

Lastly, there's the post 50 year olds' generation. These people lived, worked, raised children in extremely difficult days. They dress older- grandmothers here all look ancient, even when a glance at the mother and the child suggest she can't be much more than 25. These are women who bore or aborted many babies, made dinners with limited food, variety, electricity, or heat. They have still not adapted to frequent and regular hot water. They wear the same, distinctly Eastern European outfits for days at a time. The women cover their hair in scarves, the men wear caps. The oldest ladies dress in all black, layering woolen tights under their long skirts well into May. They wear layer upon layer of plaid button down, woolen vests, nylon coats... They don't speak English, and have quickly forgotten Russian. Their poor health care and bad nutrition shows, physically. There are many with growths and moles on their faces, goiters or false teeth, stooped backs.

In the villages, the middle generation doesn't seem to exist. From a flashy, glitzy youth, people pass quickly into an indiscriminate adulthood period. The trendy jeans are exchanged for nylon jogging pants layered over long underwear, the lack of vanity and hygiene results in dirt perpetually under fingernails, hair pinned up under scarves and caps.

It's difficult to bridge these gaps, I think, in creating a national unity. The glitz, vanity, and flash of the younger generations overshadows the older, and I wonder if any wisdom (doubtlessly buried under skeptisicm, pessimism and superstition) of the old generations passes on down at all?