Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

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Today at the pool I had a memorable encounter.

I was diligently swimming breaststroke, lap after lap, nice and easy so I wouldn’t wreck my joints (again). Next to me, however, was a speed demon. For every one of my lengths, he did four of his. I know I’m not a fast swimmer, but the guy next lane was incredible. You could see his professionalism: every stroke was absolute perfection, a white cap and European-style briefs, aka speedos.

Intrigued, I pretended to stretch and waited for him at the end of the pool. When he stopped, the words automatically came out: “No way!”

The water was up to my shoulders but reached only to his waist. He was a trapezoid with the broad base on top. I am a trapezoid with the broad base on the bottom. He looked like he’d stepped out of a Greek postcard. Me? Well, I’m me.

On his white cap, next to the Romanian flag, it said ROU POPOVICI with the champion’s signature.

Amazed, I asked in my native language, “De unde esti, tinere” (“Where are you from, young man?”). He hesitated a bit, and replied in Romanian with a slight, unidentifiable accent: “Ce faci?” (“How are you?”)

We both started to laugh and switched languages.

“I’m Greek,” he told me. “And the cap?” I asked. “Popovici is my hero!” he said proudly.

I shook his hand, hugged him, and uttered one little phrase from the bottom of my heart: “Thank you!”