“Hospitality is the key to new ideas, new friends, new possibilities. What we take into our lives changes us. Without new people and new ideas we are imprisoned inside ourselves.”

Joan D. Chittister

Hospitality is as much about receiving it as it is about giving it. If you are not open to being changed, you will not be open to receiving the hospitality extended to you.

Ten days in Bucharest, no problem. My husband, Dave, had to head to the regional office there to do some work and I was keen to tag along. There hasn’t been a place I have visited that I have not been able to feel comfortable, enjoy, and find interesting things to see. Oh, there were interesting things to see, but I did not feel comfortable and I was not enjoying myself. After the first couple of days of wandering by myself I arrived back at our apartment dejected and frustrated. I had walked and walked, revisited a couple cafes, wandered down a couple of familiar paths trying to get a feeling of comfort. Nothing, I was not at ease and having a difficult time understanding what the cause was. The architecture was confusing, the charm was missing, I could not seem to get past Ceausescu’s Romania. Everything that I had encountered prior to this trip was about the absurdity of the communist regime and the hardships, suspicion and fear on the part of Romanian citizens. The 1989 story was embedded in my brain and it was the lens through which I was visiting the city. There had to be more to the story. What was before communism? What was Romania now? I had explored the old city, trendy streets, coffee shops, historical sights and buildings and read all the guide books and articles, youtube and blogs. Nothing.

Dave suggested I hire Cristina Iosif from unknownbucharest.com for a day and see if that helped, after all I did have another week in town. She was available the next day (midweek) so picked me up at 9am and we were off on an adventure. After introductions and niceties she wanted to know what I was interested in, I told her my difficulty of feeling the vibe of the city and that I needed to know more than Ceausescu and 1989. Her first words still make me laugh “Well, in 400 AD” and our day exploded from there. I say exploded because I spent the next few days revisiting the places she took me so I could regurgitate, reflect and appreciate – she relayed so much knowledge and feeling about her country and city that I had to take time to allow it all to sink in. She invited me into her story of her place and every now and again I could feel the pain, dread and the joy and pleasure she experienced as she watched her country and city transform. It was such a wonderful place to be – invited into someone else’s story.

Cristina Iosif extended a welcome that I could not refuse. By entrusting some of her story to me, I was compelled to understand and see the Medieval, Romanesque, Art Nouveau, Art Deco, Communist, Interwar, Neo-Romanian National Romanticism, and some Moorish elements too, with a new vision. Even the empty and half built monstrosities that are left with plastic, sheet metal and debris blowing in the breeze have a story. But when there are names like Eugeniu Iordachescu, the engineer who wanted to save the churches of his city and whose plan began by watching waiters carrying around raised trays of glasses around the restaurant, attached to the history it suddenly became alive and personal and my heart was touched. It wasn’t a city of faces and buildings anymore, it was Cristina’s city, it was Eugeniu’s city and realized that invitation and welcome was essential to feeling at home.

What can I say about Andreea Beca? She walked away from her corporate work, enrolled in professional cooking classes and her passion is palatable. A woman who followed her heart and in doing so gave me a memory I will not soon forget.

Where to eat? That is always my first question when I decide to travel somewhere. I like to look for places that do not always make it on the top 10, places that tell the story of the city on the plate. Beca’s Kitchen is open Monday to Friday, 5pm to 10pm and the menu is on a chalkboard. She hits the market, touches, smells and chats with the vendors, sees what is fresh, cooks with her heart and then writes it on the board. It’s hard to get a table there, she does two seatings and is almost always fully booked. Beca wanders among the tables throughout the evening, smiling and chatting (and taking pictures if you want) and talking about her food if you ask. There are memories of her mother and grandmother in her recipes and there is an invitation into her imagination on her plates. It wasn’t just Romanian food, it was Beca’s food. Delicious and beautiful! Again I felt at home, welcomed.

When you sit at someone’s table and they share their life with you, you are changed. Whether it is a story told verbally or a story told on a plate, the encounter can be monumental in the way it impacts your life. Two women, Cristina Isosf and Andreea Beca, welcomed me into their lives, their stories, their city and I will never be the same again.

“There is an emanation from the heart in genuine hospitality which cannot be described, but it is immediately felt and puts the stranger at once at his ease.”

Washington Irving