Barefoot Champions, Chinese Sneakers, and the Fire at Poiana Țapului
By Ovi Catanescu, with memories contributed by his brother Adi and his aunt Adina
Growing up in Brăila, my brother Adi and I spent much of our free time playing football with the neighborhood kids.
Like most children in those days, we didn't have much in the way of sports equipment. We played barefoot, often with small rubber balls, although occasionally someone would bring a proper, full-size football. It didn't matter what kind of ball we had. As long as we could play, we were happy.
Our neighborhood had its own football championship, organized by a man we called the tutungiu. He took the competition seriously, keeping track of the teams, the schedules and the standings.
For us, it was our own little World Cup.
We played with tremendous enthusiasm, running barefoot through the streets, competing with our friends and dreaming of becoming great footballers. Looking back, I realize how little we needed to be happy.
But there was one thing that I desperately wanted: a pair of sneakers.
The First Sneakers and the Shot That Never Reached the Goal
For us, the street was the greatest football field in the world. All we needed were four stones to mark the two goals and a ball. Then the game would begin, and our matches could last from morning until evening.
Among our friends was Bebe Pătrașcu, who lived in the same apartment building as us and Liviu Ștefănescu.
Bebe was the first among us to start playing football wearing sneakers. I no longer remember whether they were Chinese sneakers, but I distinctly remember that they were sneakers. For boys who played barefoot most of the time, that was quite a novelty.
One day, during a match, Bebe had the ball and was preparing to shoot at the goal. He was standing very close to the curb, but that didn't seem to bother him.
I don't know what got into him, but he decided to unleash a tremendous shot, probably one that would leave the goalkeeper absolutely no chance.
And he kicked!
Unfortunately, instead of hitting the ball, he kicked the curb with all his strength.
The pain was so intense that Bebe couldn't continue playing.
But the real tragedy, at least in our eyes as children, was something else: Bebe's sneaker was completely destroyed!
The first sneakers we had ever seen someone wear while playing football on our street had enjoyed a much shorter career than any of us could have imagined.
And the ball? The ball hadn't even been touched!
The Chinese Sneakers
At the time, Chinese sneakers were something special. I remember mine distinctly: light brown, with green rubber soles.
To a boy who spent most of his time running barefoot, they were a treasure.
I was enormously proud of them, and when the opportunity came to spend a vacation in Valea Prahovei, I naturally wanted to take them along.
We rarely had the opportunity to take vacations away from Brăila, so this trip was a major event for us.
Our destination was Poiana Țapului, a beautiful mountain village in the Prahova Valley, surrounded by forests and the magnificent Bucegi Mountains.
Our Vacation in Poiana Țapului
Our mother couldn't make the trip, and our father couldn't come either. Fortunately, our aunt Adina, my mother's sister, took Adi and me to Poiana Țapului.
We were going to visit our other aunt, Puica, who was married to our mother's brother Nelu. Puica went to Poiana Țapului more frequently than we did and was familiar with the area.
The three of us boarded a train in Brăila, excited about the vacation ahead.
But as Adina reminded me recently, our adventure began before we even reached our destination.
For reasons none of us can remember, we failed to get off the train at Poiana Țapului. Instead, we continued to the next station, Bucegi.
There we were, two young boys and our aunt, with all our luggage, one railway station beyond where we were supposed to be.
And how did we solve the problem?
We walked!
I remember that there was a sidewalk all the way from Bucegi to Poiana Țapului. Adina remembers the effort of making that journey on foot, carrying our luggage.
I recently checked Google Maps, and the walking route is approximately 10 kilometers (6.2 miles), or about two hours and forty-two minutes. That is the modern route, of course, not necessarily the exact distance we walked back then.
Imagine Adina, responsible for two adventurous boys, carrying luggage along a mountain road for nearly three hours before our vacation had even begun!
For two boys accustomed to the flat landscape of Brăila, the mountains were an entirely different world. There were forests to explore, streams, unfamiliar buildings and endless opportunities for adventure.
And as it turned out, our unexpected hike was only the beginning.
The Girl Who Taught Us the Twist
Another family was staying at the same house. They had a daughter who was older than Adi.
According to my brother, she seemed to like him, and she introduced us to something that was becoming very fashionable in those days: the Twist.
She taught both of us how to dance it.
I can just imagine the two of us trying to master those twisting movements under the watchful eye of our slightly older instructor. Adi remembers her particularly well, and I suspect the dancing lessons weren't the only reason!
It was one of those little experiences that made the vacation memorable.
Of course, dancing wasn't our principal occupation. There were far more dangerous adventures waiting for us.
The Fire at the School
One day, Adi and I decided to explore the local school.
Being naturally curious—and perhaps a little too adventurous—we eventually made our way into the attic.
There, we discovered a wasps' nest.
Now, two sensible children would have left the nest alone and quietly returned downstairs.
Unfortunately, we weren't those children.
We somehow came up with the brilliant idea of using matches to deal with the wasps.
Before long, our little experiment had produced smoke and a fire.
What had started as another innocent adventure suddenly became a serious situation. The fire department was called, and firefighters arrived to deal with the consequences of our curiosity.
I can only imagine what the adults thought when they discovered what had happened.
Adi and I had managed to turn an ordinary vacation day into a visit from the fire brigade.
Fortunately, we escaped without injury.
And, as children sometimes do, we eventually went back to enjoying our vacation, leaving the adults to deal with the excitement we had created.
The Prahova River and My Missing Sneaker
Another adventure involved the Prahova River.
I had brought my precious Chinese sneakers with me, and one day, while we were playing near the river, I managed to lose one of them in the water.
The current carried it away.
I watched helplessly as my beautiful light-brown sneaker, with its green rubber sole, disappeared downstream.
For a boy who had spent so much time dreaming of owning a pair of sneakers, it was a disaster.
I was heartbroken.
When my mother learned what had happened, she promised me another pair.
That promise was enough to comfort me, although I never forgot the sight of my sneaker floating away in the Prahova River.
Between the school fire and my missing sneaker, Adi and I had certainly made the most of our vacation.
A Confession, Many Years Later
For years, the story of the school fire remained one of those childhood secrets that my brother and I carried with us.
Much later, when I was already an adult, I finally told our mother that Adi and I had accidentally started a fire at the school during our vacation in Poiana Țapului.
I expected her to be surprised.
She wasn't.
After all, she knew her boys better than anyone.
She had raised us, watched us get into trouble, and somehow managed to survive all our childhood adventures.
By the time I made my confession, I suspect there was very little I could have told her about Adi and me that would have truly shocked her.
Looking Back
When I think about that vacation today, I remember the beautiful mountains, our adventures, the Chinese sneakers I loved so much, and the older girl who taught us the Twist.
I remember the excitement of exploring unfamiliar places with my brother and the extraordinary freedom we enjoyed as children.
And, of course, I remember the school fire.
Our mother and father couldn't join us, but Aunt Adina took us on the train from Brăila to visit Aunt Puica. Thanks to our missed stop, she also ended up accompanying us on an unexpected walk from Bucegi to Poiana Țapului, luggage and all.
Even after all these years, Adina remembers that exhausting walk. And I still remember the sidewalk that seemed to stretch all the way to our destination.
We had set out from Brăila with two Chinese sneakers, plenty of curiosity and absolutely no intention of causing trouble.
We returned with one less sneaker, a few new dance moves, memories of a mountain adventure that began one railway station too far, and a secret that would take many years to reach our mother.
And what a vacation it was!
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