Cultural Differences and Worry

I’ve lived truly alone for over a year now. I still don’t think of myself as an adult. But when I see myself through others’ eyes, I sometimes catch a glimpse of my reflection and am surprised by what I see. Yesterday I spent the day in Onesti and took a mid-afternoon train home. My behavior on public transportation has become almost a ritual these past sixteen months. Don’t make eye contact, watch my baggage and try not to look too American. I mind my own business and try not to draw attention to the fact that I don’t have a complete grasp of the language here. For the most part, I can travel around with relative ease and few incidents.

Yesterday, however, was another story. As chose my seat in the train car yesterday, I began my ritual like usual, putting my bag in the seat across from, my purse at my side and opened up my book. Across the aisle, a girl a few years younger than me sat down and a middle-aged man sat in the seat across from her. I couldn’t tell if they knew each other or not.

As the train pulled away from the station it became apparent that they did not know each other. The man started a conversation with the girl and the girl politely answered his question. As our train moved slowly up my little valley, the man invaded more and more of the girl’s personal space; finally moving to sit on the bench next to her, uncomfortably close. I watched out of the corner of my eye as the man continued pressing closer and the girl said please move and cowered toward the window. No one else in the train car seemed to notice anything out of the ordinary.

When I saw the man’s hand go up the girl’s skirt, I knew I had to act. I stood and turned the man by the shoulder, said excuse me and waved the girl to the seat across from me. The girl, looking greatly relieved, took a book from me and we resolutely ignored the man as he tried to engage both of us in conversation. After a minute he left the car and I introduced myself to the girl as an American volunteer and English teacher. Her English was very good and we chatted until the man came back and tried to figure out what language we were speaking. He tried to sit next to me and I said no loudly and moved so there was not enough room. After that he left the car for good.

All this time, no one else in the packed train car did anything to acknowledge that the girl had been harassed or that I had stepped in. The girl was extremely grateful and I’m very glad to have met her. I hope if she finds herself in a similar situation again she has the courage to stop it and remove herself from it. The whole incident left a bad taste in my mouth and makes me worry about how common an occurrence this is, if no one else was willing to step in.