There was almost no change as compared to the situation of the previous years. The railroad carriages were as dirty, uncomfortable an old-fashioned. In summer, these were real drying stoves, but in winter, one had to muffle up, not to freeze. The toilets were absolutely impracticable: the water was running only on the floor, the toilet paper had disappeared for ages.

The interdiction of smoking and the ever-growing prices led to the continual emptying of the restaurant-carriages.

The institution of the ?godfather? (ticket inspector who receive bribe) is as flourishing as before. The only change is that the transaction between the passengers without a ticket and the ticket inspector is on almost openly, with the lucrative complicity of the ?over-control?. (In the past, money used to be transferred with care, in the toilet or in their compartment.). Often, during student holidays, in the trains that went to the seaside or to the mountains, the number of ?fare dodgers? exceeds the one of the passengers who actually paid their ticket. (129)

The ultimate Comrade was not supposed to see unpleasant things crossing his path when bound on one of his tours. So what did you do then? You hid churches away from his sight, and so did you newly built houses. My father in law had a house in the Domenii neighborhood in Bucharest. The house was built in the 1930?s. And he also had an orchard in the backyard. That was where he started building a new house in the 1980?s. At some point the very Queen of England was due to visit Bucharest. The carefully selected route included the Turda street, in my father-in-law?s neighborhood. The people at the City Hall and from the Party gave my father-in-law one week to either paint the house, even though it was far from finished, or to mount a huge front panel to hide the house behind it. The house was really not supposed to be there, and so was another house just a couple of numbers down the same street, and that one actually was hidden behind a huge panel in the end, a panel that the owner had to pay for, so the ultimate She Comrade would not see it on her way, or route as they called it. She really did dislike new private houses; if she saw one, off it had to go. Back in the 80?s private houses were a rather reactionary and subversive notion, because everyone was supposed to live in a block of flats.

When somebody really important was on a tour of Bucharest, people became part of the route; each of us had their own lamp-post to stick to. You did have to be there so the pavement would look populated by enthusiastic masses.