Just a Monumental Summer: Girl on the train Read Free

– we wrestled the heavy window open so that we could enjoy the scent of freshly plowed earth mixing with the scent of fruit trees, bringing the smell of the countryside into our private cabin.
    “Who knows how long we will be stuck in here.” Alin said. “I hate this freaking country!” 
    Transportation was awful in Romania. Trains came late and stopped for no reason for hours between destinations.
    I stated the obvious: “It seems our ride may take a while.” Looking at Alin, I was glad the ride would take longer than planned. I needed more time. 
    More time for what, Mona?
     
    Mona’s Journal
    ***              3 July 1989             
     
    The exam day. Traumatizing day. Same day I took the train and met Alin. Happy-day.
    I was sitting in the faculty hallway and asking myself why I was there. I wasn’t particularly scared, nor was I excited. I had no expectations at all except that I would fail.
    I was the first testing candidate to arrive and sat alone in the huge, cold hallway. I came without expectations, but still I was overwhelmed. Maybe it was the building. The Central University looked impressive with its enormous and pretentious colonnade surrounding the University Marketplace. It was the oldest university in Romania. An institution of higher education with tradition, and a modern university that had gained recognition across the country.
    The building had typical European architecture, a combination of Roman frescos along with Classical and Baroque influence; large, vaulted spaces, traced on either side by a series of wide, arcaded passages consisting of rows of arches, while supporting a high, half-dome roof. In the center of the building, impressive atrium and richly decorated columns. The stout columns and thick walls were dramatically embellished with figurative sculptures and stone tracery.
    I approached the famous "Hall of Lost Steps,” a hallway embellished with dramatic paintings by acclaimed Romanian painters. I found a bench and sat alone in the huge hallway.
    I considered leaving while sitting on the hard wooden bench. I knew taking the exam was a waste of my time and money.
    Other testers began filtering into the building, and the place soon became crowded and loud. Every student was the center of attention. They were talking loudly and pretentiously.
    I contemplated the people around me. Candidates were surrounded by family members, friends, and neighbors—anyone who could support them. Getting into a university was a huge achievement, and the whole family was ready to face the moment they had spent years working toward. Students started preparing as soon as they entered high school. Some would apply two or even three years in a row to get accepted; the competition was extremely brutal.
    Only the best of the best would pass the exam. Parents would invest their whole savings in tutoring. In fact, only the most advanced students would be tutored by renowned teachers.
    As expected, the exam was hard and complex. Words like explain, analyze, write, evaluate, state, describe, and identify were staring at me, humiliating me—proof of my failure. There were no multiple-choice questions to ease my pain, not even a fill-in-the-blank.
    I looked around: everyone else writing frenetically. I inhaled deeply, put my pen down, and stood up. Snatching up my bag, I left the room, followed by several perplexed looks. I hurried outside and then stood in the sun with empty mind. The street was bustling with people detached and indifferent to my plight.
    I went straight to the rail station and called my mother to tell her I’d failed. The results would not be displayed for a couple of weeks, but I told her I knew I’d failed. Over the phone, I felt her heavy silence crushing my shoulders. She didn’t say anything for a while. I let her be, my heart aching for her disappointment.
    After a minute or two, I told her I would take the train straight to Costinesti and stay there for