Romania

In Fair Verona Where We Lay Our Scene... or in this case: ROMANIA.

A long drive from Hungary, at whose border crossing we all suspect they’ll commandeer the camper-van as being some sort of western spy facility. We meet our host, Mrs. Popa, a sweet-faced Romanian lady who speaks no English and some Deutsch. Actually, after Hungary it’s pleasing to hear a language that is vaguely translatable from the latin root — Hungarian was pretty incomprehensible to us dullards.

Mrs Popa treats us to lunch but first she treats us to a press conference. The questions are fairly curveball, and it takes some explaining on why we should have to ‘re-imagine’ Romeo & Juliet. The hotel is lovely, although later on in the lobby I’ll discover that there is a very relaxed attitude towards prostitution in the country. Timisoara is certainly the biggest leap from Britain that we’ve met yet.

The lunch consists of too much (?!) wine, cabbage wrapped around meat, and hot donuts served with ice cream. We are taken on a tour of the nearby orthodox cathedral, including some extraordinary old icons, and also on an architectural tour of the city. For about half an hour I manage to remember the difference between Art Nouveau, Baroque and Gothicism. We visit the ‘Gipsy Houses’ of the city (our tour guide hurries us on less we ‘attract their attention’: very Montague and Capulet) which sparks up an interesting conversation about the Romany Gipsy people since the second world war. It’s often overlooked that Nazi Germany decimated the Gipsy population from 500,000 to 5,000. There’s a story needing to be told there.

But what a grand welcome from a toppled city built on a swamp.

Romania is certainly big on it’s theatre, and we note posters for Mark Ravenhill plays, amongst others. Servicing company vanity, there are also HUGE Romeo & Juliet posters advertising our show, everywhere. We all pose for pictures with it, on tip-toes, pointing at our own name. Benvolio finds a wall to stand onto to do this. That’s how big the posters are. In the square by the opera house, Mrs Popa reminisces about the protests and seeing civilians mown down by machine guns. A very different world indeed. How it’s possible to keep on producing art in those sort of circumstances, as she did, is a phenomenon.

Our playing space, for the first time, is claustrophobic and urban. As we arrive, a cleaning lady is wiping graffiti off the wall: somebody has written the word ‘F*!K’ above the word ‘LOVE’, and perversely enough we want to keep it as it serves the conflicting ideas in the play. It’s certainly the gist of Mercutio’s speeches to Romeo, and Tybalt’s musings on peace. The camper-van backs onto a football net, and basketball frames stand sentry by the audience. Our green room is reached inside the school, down slightly haunting bleach white corridors, where Mr Popa has left us fruit, pastries, and a thermos full of sticky black coffee. They’re treating us like family.

For whatever reason, and there are probably many, the play worked its most potent magic tonight. It could have been that the light timed perfectly with the tragedy, and as the sun dipped, so did the lovers’ fates. It could have been the sense of poverty around us and the honest-to-god celebration of a story transporting us away from the material world. Or it could be that the modern setting charged the play with a shocking sense of importance. But it all came together, and an enchantment slowly filled up the courtyard. They were a brilliant audience, invasive photographers and security guards included. The possibility of hope, hemmed in by the cramped brickwork, and set free by a small chink of silver in the sky. And our first standing ovation, which, as Pierro had said, was more about us thanking the audience and acknowledging we had all shared something very special.

The dinner afterwards was set alight by Mr Popa’s home-made plum brandy, and his oversize bottle of Jonnie Walker Red Label. I hope someone’s recording a booze inventory. The next day he even makes sandwiches for our journey. The kindness, respect and collaboration that made this trip so unique will always be remembered.

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