Romania - Torn between work and home | DW Documentary

This is the small Romanian town of Bicaz. And this is Antonela Andonescu, or Coca as everyone here calls her. >> Good morning, Mrs. Margareta. How are you? Everything okay? >> A few years ago, she returned from Italy. Today, she cares for the elderly in her hometown. >> Good morning. How are you doing? We have to start the day with a smile. No question about it. I walk through the nursing home and talk to the residents, just to share some positivity. >> [music] >> Bicaz was an important industrial city up till 1989. Nearly half the residents from back then have moved away. Most of the younger people have gone to work in Italy, where there's more work to be found. Many of them will likely never return, like Coca's niece, Andra. >> When I go to Romania, I like staying for a month on vacation, but I don't feel like I would want to live there. >> [music] >> Bicaz is a small town in the historical region of Moldavia in western Romania, about 400 km north of Bucharest. Around 6,500 people live here. Today, you mostly see older people in town. After the fall of the communist regime, unemployment rose dramatically. A wave of emigration followed. Most young people left for western Europe, leaving their parents and [music] grandparents behind. >> [music] [singing] >> Coca takes care of some of them. When the weather is nice, like today, she often takes them on an outing. >> On nice days, I take a trip with the elderly. With the ones who can walk, but also with those in wheelchairs. Because we can take people who can't walk in the car. We drive to the lake out in the countryside. We often gather herbs or pick fruit. >> Coca has her own dock on Lake Bicaz, where her boat is moored. Something she bought for the residents of her nursing home. The idea came to her a year ago, when she saw tourists on a boat tour. The boat can accommodate 12 people. It's rather unusual to see a woman at the helm. Motorboats are considered masculine here. The Bicaz Reservoir is Romania's largest artificial lake, covering an area of about 35 square kilometers. It was created in 1950, when a hydroelectric dam was built here. >> [music] >> Of course, music is also [music] part of the tour, especially the old Schlager hits from yesteryear. >> [music] >> Coca worked in Italy for almost 10 years as a geriatric nurse, learning to care for the elderly and sick. Today, [music] Coca runs a nursing home with space for 80 people. Demand at [music] her facility is high due to the aging population. There's an urgent need for nursing homes. Government-run facilities are rare, and many [music] private providers fail to meet quality standards. >> Now, put your fingers here. And now, put your fist here. Right here. Bravo. >> At Coca's nursing home, care is affordable and reliable with a focus on real human connection. The boss herself makes plenty of time for her residents. >> We play cards, dominoes, rummy. They play every day. I'm often playing with them. My visits always cheer her up. They always ask me, "Mrs. Coca, can you stop by later so we can chat for a bit?" I wish I could spend more time with them. If I had 8 or 10 hours a day, I'd spend it with them, but I don't have that kind of time because I have to keep things running. Coca especially enjoys talking with Vasile Iuganaru, who worked for decades at the Bicaz cement plant, the largest cement facility in Romania. He worked in asbestos cement production and remembers well the days when it was a booming industry in Bicaz. >> Well, they sent many of us there, not just me. Everyone from my class. And then we were assigned to our respective departments. I was hired in '78 and worked there from then on. >> [clears throat] >> It was tough at the factory. I inhaled a lot of toxic fumes. Especially in the years before privatization. >> Before the new particle filters were installed. >> Yes. But that was only later, after the 1990s. Before that, you were inhaling mouthfuls of dust. God, do you remember what it was like here? What it was like in the woods here. Everything was white from the lime plant. The trees looked like a birch wood forest. >> People got sick working in these conditions. >> Many got diseases like silicosis, a great many. >> Coca was directly affected by events in her homeland. After finishing school, it was clear to her that she'd have to leave Romania if she wanted a future. She left secretly, without even telling her parents. Her first stop was Turkey. >> The first time I went abroad was to work in Istanbul. I stayed there for 3 years. During that time, I met the father of my oldest son. I didn't want to get married. I didn't want to stay with him. >> But she stayed to work. And every time she visited home, it was a celebration for her nieces. >> When I came back from Turkey, they were waiting for me as if I was Santa Claus because I brought them lots of gifts. I only worked there for my sisters and nieces, not for myself. They had it much harder. They had barely enough to survive. No matter what I was earning back then, I always asked them what they needed. I gave them money and bought everything they needed. After that, I returned to Turkey empty-handed. I didn't have any children at the time and for myself, I only bought the absolute essentials. >> Today, the situation is completely different. >> Hi, how are you? >> Good. How are you? >> I have something to show you. Look what I found. >> Yeah, show me. >> I was looking through the photo albums and found these pictures from when you were little girls. And everyone said you were my own daughters. >> Yeah, yeah. >> Do you see Giselle? Your mom when she was little. >> That was me when I was little. >> Giselle, what are you doing there? Look at Coca. Okay, you two beauties. Let's talk again soon. Bye. >> Andra is Coca's oldest niece. Years ago, she went to join her parents who'd settled in Ostia, a suburb of Rome on the Mediterranean coast in the late 1990s. >> I have many fond memories of Coca. I remember when she came back from Turkey and brought us lots of candy, clothes, and toys. She always took me with her wherever she went and people said I was her little girl that I looked just like her. She was more like a mother to me than an aunt. >> Andra's story is that of a typical immigrant child. >> I grew up with my grandparents in a small village. When my parents came to get me and brought me here, it wasn't easy because I had to leave my grandparents behind and I missed them so much. Then my life changed completely. This is a big city, lots of people, everything was new. I didn't know the language, but honestly, it was easy to learn. I watched cartoons. I felt like I wanted to stay here. Yeah, I think ever since I was 15, I've liked everything here. When I go to Romania, I like staying for a month on vacation, but I don't feel like I would want to live there. >> [music] >> Andra belongs to the second generation of Romanian immigrants living in Italy today. She quickly found her bearings in the new environment where she graduated effortlessly from high school and earned a living working in the restaurant industry. >> I worked in a I worked in a I met the father of my little girl. Before Giselle was born, I I started around 11:00, then stopped at noon to rest at home, and at 5:00 p.m. I went back to work until 1:00 a.m. It depended on how long the guests stayed. Yeah, that's how it was. It was hard work, but I enjoyed it. >> Andra was the manager here until recently. Now they often come here to dine with her husband's family. Ruggero, the father of her daughter, owns the restaurant. And his restaurant is a regular venue for the social gatherings of uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews. >> [music] >> The Bicaz region in northern Romania has experienced an exodus of young people. According to the latest census, people aged 60 to 70 make up the largest demographic group. Adriana, Coca's older sister and Andra's mother, has been working at Coca's home for several years. Coca urgently needed extra hands at her nursing home in Bicaz and asked her sister if she would come and help. >> The first time I went to Italy was because my husband was located there. He asked me to join him, and I found a job caring for an elderly lady. My husband died 12 years ago, and after that I came home three times a year. Once I got used to it, I Many people say you should never work with family, but we've always gotten along. >> When Coca and her two older sisters left Romania, the country was in the grip of a deep crisis. The large factories in the province had closed and there were massive layoffs. But Coca always held on to the hope of returning one day. >> [music] >> I left, but my soul stayed here. In my free time, I could think of nothing but home. Even while caring for my baby, my thoughts were always on returning. Everyone wondered why I came back. After all, I had it better there than many do here. It's important to have the courage to return to your own country and to trust that you can achieve something there, too. >> Her new life here began with a memory of Italy. >> My original idea was a pizzeria. We were next to an elementary school and I thought if we made pizzas on small plates, every child could afford one. And sure enough, during recess, there was a long line outside. I made so many pizzas that the whole place here was filled with them. And then I started getting involved in social work. My sisters decided to come back home. I was able to convince them they could work with me. When I left Italy, that was pretty much the plan. Let's all go home, stay healthy, and be close to our parents. >> And so, in 2003, Coca returned to Becas, back to the countryside where she'd grown up, a place filled with memories. >> I have neighbors who had five children. All five are in Italy today. On this side here, two are in Turcudu and the rest are in Italy. On the side of the hill up there, absolutely everyone is in Italy. No one stayed here. Everyone is working somewhere. They say they're leaving the country to earn money and will come back, but they never come back again. >> Ostia, not far from Rome, is a real hotspot for the Romanian diaspora. From a total of 6 million Romanian immigrants, 250,000 live here alone. In the late 1990s, [music] when Romania was not yet part of the EU, Romanian migrants who'd already found work and housing were a contact [music] point for friends and relatives who were also looking for a fresh start. A Cremoara and her husband came here at that time. >> It was tough back then. You couldn't just come here with a visa. Today everything is easy. I had a friend in Turin who was in the country illegally. We went to see him. He kept us locked up in the house for a week. We weren't allowed to go out because if the neighbors had seen us, they would have called the Carabinieri right away. And they would have sent us right back to Romania. After a week, he told me he couldn't put us up any longer. He said, "Please go somewhere else." Before we left the country, I'd written down more than 10 phone numbers of acquaintances in a little notebook. On the train, I called every person I knew, but no one answered. And if someone did answer, they asked, "Why did you come to Italy? You know how hard it is here." In Rome, we lived at the train station, washing ourselves in the trains. If you only knew how small those things are. That was the only option we had. In Rome, I called the last number I had, exactly one person that I didn't know at all. It was the husband of a friend of a friend, so a complete stranger. And he said to me, "Hey, there's just one way I can help you. Take a taxi and come to Infernetto. We'll figure it out from there." Then, with this person's help, we found a house and furnished it from scratch. We had nothing. I'm not ashamed to say that. Some things we got from the church, others from various people, and some things we found in the trash. We really started from the very bottom. Every time we go back to our country, it's painful for us because for years we've been saying over and over, "Just one more year." We say we'll stay one more year and then come back. But then we can't bring ourselves to take that step and we stay. It's very painful, especially saying goodbye when you just can't stop crying. I've lost my parents and my father-in-law. Only my mother-in-law is still alive. But we went back every year for the children so they could learn our traditions and not forget them. >> Coca's day starts early [music] with a cup of coffee, a moment of calm before the hectic day begins. >> [music] >> She picks up meat for the [music] grill at the local butcher. Today she's planning a barbecue for the 80 residents of her home. She picks [music] up medication at the pharmacy, also for the residents. Last stop, the supermarket. As manager, she's responsible for everything, including the daily shopping trips around town. She's also part of the team and is happy to do the rounds. >> [music] >> At Coca's nursing home, a lot of emphasis is placed on movement. When the weather is nice, everyone goes outside. Activities and stimulation are a normal part of the care here. >> [laughter] >> Among the residents of Coca's home is her own father, Matei Andreescu. He now struggles with his memory and has some health problems. Born in 1941, he lived through the years of emigration when all three of his daughters left the country. >> I could hardly bear to see my children taking off for some faraway place. But I knew that many people had left the area. And someone told me that they were probably doing well. >> For Romanians, barbecuing isn't just about food. It's a living tradition. That's true here in Ostia, too. At the end of the work day, everyone gathers at the home of Lacramioara and her husband, Florin. They are plumbers, fitters, and caregivers. The younger ones among them are still in training. Florin [music] makes mici, a typical Romanian barbecue dish on the griddle. This kind of relaxed gathering didn't exist 25 years ago when the older ones first came here. But back then, they never thought they'd still be here today. >> Do you remember, Florin? >> Yeah, yeah. >> In Ostia, we were treated like the worst criminals. They took us to the police headquarters in Rome and held us there till midnight. They locked us all up and said we had no business being in our house. The police sealed off the house. We couldn't get back in. >> You were homeless then. >> [snorts] >> In a practical sense, yes. The only one who wasn't locked up was Florin. I called him and said, "Come and get us out of Rome. Go and get a few things from the house. Try and find a place where we can all stay. Tell us, where did we end up?" >> In an RV, yes. It was really tough back then. >> [snorts] >> There were a lot of us, friends, our godchildren, my sister. There were 12 of us in that trailer for about 3 weeks. Yeah, we laugh about it today. But back then, it was enough to make you cry. >> We ate nothing but chicken the whole time. >> Yeah, we only had grilled chicken because we didn't have a stove. We had nothing. Our grill was a wheelbarrow with a grate on top. >> But I want to tell you that I love Romania. >> More than Italy? >> Yeah. Like I told you, I was there for 2 weeks and it felt great. It's cool. You have everything you want there. But when you return here, it still feels better, right? >> For those of us who were born there, but for them? >> Your country is calling you, but something calls you here, too. >> But I can't go to a country that took the person I love most away from me. Maybe you'll come back here one day. Maybe you can study here. >> Why don't you move here? >> I don't like it here. I don't feel like I could fit in here. I don't like it. I don't like the language. I don't like the people. Okay, the Romanians fit in here in their own way, yes, but I'd rather stay in Romania and struggle a bit until I've built up something. It's better than coming here and not feeling like myself. >> Look, in contrast, my girls wouldn't go back to Romania. >> Yeah, because they were born here. >> But that's not it. They see how life is different here. >> I don't know how to put it. We have this hope in our hearts. Not just hope. Leaving was the solution. May God bless us. >> At home and abroad, there's nothing that brings Romanians together like a barbecue. And Bicaz is no exception. Coca has prepared everything for a lovely evening. But she knows well that almost all of her residents have children [music] and grandchildren abroad whom they miss very much. In her hometown of Bicaz, from which so many have emigrated, Coca forges new connections and offers attention and care, especially to those who would otherwise be alone. >> [music] >> Work almost never tires me out. I go home and feel good. I don't know if anyone has ever heard me say that I'm tired. So, if you do what you love, you never get tired. >> Coca is considering opening a second home one day. A slightly more exclusive home with higher rents. This would help offset some of the rising costs of the existing home and secure housing for everyone here in the long term. >> [music]