Communism in Romania, the ‘80s

‘80s memories:
My light blue kindergarten uniform, thin, wrinkly material with a big, red ribbon on it, under which I had two blouses, both knitted by mom, one made of thinner wool, one thicker, a vest, body tight blouse and a body shirt; my grey hat with red, zigzag lines around it and a long tassel which kept me company in my often “I’m bored” moments; my kindergarten menu made of sugar burned (I meant brulee) tea served in aluminum or metal cups, pasta with breadcrumbs and sugar, brown hard crackers, handy when someone would make a move on my chippy colored pencil; my dark yellow overalls which considering the amount of clothes I already had on, were hard to get into and harder to get out of and which starting with September until the end of March I was forced to wear; my indigo winter coat with its fist size red buttons, family inheritance from my older brother; my winter boots always one and a half size bigger in order to fit my foot wrapped up in three slim socks, one wool sock; fear of the dark (induced by daily power outage) manifesting itself every day when climbing the stairs until the forth floor, sometimes overcome by me singing a song or by some candle left in the doorway by one of the moms to guide their kids home in the dark. Continuă să citești