Msk on the Road

The Three Little Pigs

2011-07-13T02:49:00.001-04:00

Jus zinote originalia istorija ir isgirdote nauja versija. Kuri istorija, jusu nuomone, yra tikra?

Autumn trip

2010-07-15T02:09:00.000-04:00

An autumn trip has been suggested. Where would you lke to go and what do you want to see there?

Klaipeda

2010-07-15T02:05:00.001-04:00

Klaipeda in the morning. The mists flitted through the streets like ghostly beings...
Eerie voices whispered through the mist...

Nick’s presentation at Alexandru cel Bun

2008-05-19T23:22:00.002-04:00

This is the first time I have invited Nick and Jon to accompany me on any of my teaching gigs in other countries. I thought they would find it interesting to see what it is like here. People tell me that I am living in the poorest corner of the poorest country in Europe. That may well be, but it is one of the most beautiful areas I have ever seen – and I have been to lots of places and so am qualified to make this statement. The people are wonderful here and have made me very comfortable. I wanted my boys to see what it is that I do in Eastern Europe every year. I have been traveling to Lithuania and now to Romania for some time to bring American teaching methods to teachers and students. It is hard to imagine that this will be my ninth July in Lithuania. I wanted my boys to understand that this is not just a walk in the park to come and teach here. I wanted them to understand that I am here to bring my expertise from America to the countryside of developing countries in Eastern Europe.

I also wanted them to see how beautiful it is and how delightful the people are. I wanted them to see what it is to bring Western knowledge and ideas to a country that has not had the freedoms that we take for granted.

Nick came to school with me one day and spoke to many of the students. We were in the multi-media room. I had planned to invite my classes to listen, but soon most of the students were coming to hear an American speak about America. He was quite a hit. As he is much closer to their age than I am, it was very interesting for them to hear what it was like to grow up and go to college in America. He talked about his own life and hobbies. He talked about his job at Trader Joe's. He talked about going to school at Eastern Michigan University and how different it is at an American school.

I found it interesting to hear what my son had to say about growing up in America after seeing how people in other countries live. He was quite a hit with the girls. As we are a tall family, he was a head taller than even the tallest girls. The twelfth formers invite the boys out for an evening at a new club that opened just in time fo the holiday season. The view from the top floor club is phenomenal. There are floor to ceiling wndows on three sides and so almost the entire city is visible from up there.

Remote control

2008-05-19T23:17:00.002-04:00

I am not a television watcher as most of you know. I have too many other things to do. When I moved to my new digs, I never turned on the television because I simply never got around to it. When the boys came back from their adventure, they came here to check out where I was. They turned on the television and it worked. It is an old television from the days of Russian goods. People here tell me that it is very possible for it to blow up at any time. This is not very encouraging. The boys were not happy that it had no remote control so they found a way to make one. I brought some knitting needles and yarn for the long winter nights which never seemed to arrive. They took one of my knitting needles to push the buttons as none of us wanted to get very near to it.

Another snowy day

2008-05-19T23:07:00.003-04:00

Today I will go to Suceava again. I was going there much more often in the fall but I am finding that now that I live in town, I am getting to know the shops are that have what I need. The trip to Suceava is an adventure and fun in itself, but it takes a whole day to go for a ten minute stop.

This morning, though, I don't mind at all. This morning the snow was thick and perfect for snowballs. The trees are enveloped in snow. It looks like the elves were out last night and covered them all with fluffy, white frosting. This horse is wearing a blanket to keep off the chill in the air.

My 11K class is not with me today. Their eyes keep straying to the window and they ask if they can go outside to play in the snow. These kids are 17 and 18 and they want to have a snowball fight! I tell them that if they only speak in English, they can. You would think I had told them there was a pot of gold outside, they left so quickly.

Jon on a snowy afternoon

2008-05-19T23:04:00.002-04:00

My boys love the outdoors and I thought they would be out on the mountains as much as possible while they were here. It turns out that they think I am living in Siberia. I clearly told them to bring hats and gloves and coats and boots and their snow boards. I know I said it several times. Apparently, they only heard Greece and sunny skies.

Having spent a week in Greece, the return to cold temperatures was a shock for them. It seems that they forgot their snow boards and didn't think they would really need all that snow gear. It wouldn't fit in their suitcases and, after all, they didn't need it at home and we live in snow country, so why cart it across the big pond. Of course, we have cars and trucks at home. I think not having a car and walking everywhere was a bit of a shock to them. We have spent a lot of time in the local restaurants and with hot chocolate at home, talking about all sorts of things. I actually have more stamina than they do, I think. That is certainly a big surprise for me. Hills still take it out of me, but the walking is a piece of cake anymore. I am in much better shape now than I was when I first came here. I am trying to figure out how to include serious walking in my day when I get home. Unfortunately, I live just under five miles from school which is a tad farther than I want to walk – and certainly not twice a day.

Rasnov

2008-05-19T14:39:00.002-04:00

The village of Rasnow is first mentioned in 1331. The boyar of the region decided that the village was a perfect place to build a fortification and so the fortress was built. You can see it for miles as you approach the mountain. It is a huge white stone fortress that envelopes the top of the mountain. We were driven most of the way up it and then walked the rest of the way to the entrance. I am not sure I would have driven up this mountain in the summer. It is cold and icy today. The road is twisty and not well traveled, at least not in a vehicle. Even our driver who has a four-wheel drive vehicle, had to take a run at some of the hills. My Mustang would be completely useless in this country.

Water is supplied to this village from a well that was dug by two Turkish prisoners. They dug down into the rock for seventeen years until 1623 when they reached water at 146 meters. They had been promised their freedom when it was completed. It is doubtful that they were ever released. This well allowed the fortified city to remain closed during a siege as the gate did not need to be opened for supplies. Although I have to wonder who would want to siege this city. It would seem more logical to me to pass it by and keep going, but then I don't live in those times – thank heavens…

We walked up the icy paths. There were no handrails and the going was treacherous. This place has a magical feel to it. I can imagine the poor serfs scurrying up these steep pathways carrying huge sacks of grain from the valley below. They would have to trudge all the way up the mountain and then through the village alleyways. I think it is only uphill here. Even in the summer, I think it would have been a very hard life.

The views from here are spectacular. Having lived much of my adult life on the plains of the Midwest, I truly appreciate being as high as an eagle and surveying the landscape. Below is the current village of Rasnov, now even a bustling town and full of life.

We turn a corner to find the city gates. Apparently, we had entered through the tiny servants' entrance. These gates are guarded by numerous archers' windows which will hold off all but the foolhardy. I wouldn't want to get caught by the pointy iron spikes of the gates as they fall into place. On the other side of the gates is a small gathering area and then the sheer cliffs of the mountain. I really cannot imagine even climbing all the way to the top of this mountain to get to the village in the first place. But the idea of seiging this fortress seems completely ludicrous. How could you stand outside this fortress and even consider fighting your way in?

We climbed to the top of what was left of one of the guard towers. From here you can see forever. The Carpathians are beautiful from here. Mountain after snowy mountain rising one behind the other as far as the eye can see. Looking down on the fortress walls, it is amazing to think that someone could build this fortress here. Most of the materials would have to have been brought up from the valley far below. The road, even now with pavement, is treacherous. These donkeys are probably descendants of the first beasts of burden that toiled up and down this mountain, carrying all the materials and foodstuffs. These two appear to be well fed and happy. I think they may be the only full-time inhabitants of the fortress today.

We have walked up through the village on the icy path. It seems to go on forever, but maybe that is the cold and ice talking. I cannot imagine what it must have been like to have lived and worked here.

The Ensemble of the Evangelical Church and the Historic Center of Prejmer Village

2008-04-22T16:26:00.005-04:00

Another UNESCO World Heritage Site, this fortified church was considered to be the most powerful peasant fortification in medieval Transylvania. It was built in the early 1200s with the blessings of the Teutonic Knights after being attacked by the Turks by Saxon peasants.

This one is remarkably intact with the iron spikes still on the gates. They were serious about their safety here. See all the portals for arrows. There are so many of these fortified villages dotting the landscape that it is obvious that these early Saxons lived on the frontier border between Europe and the marauding Turks and Mongols who, according to the stories, were constantly attacking and trying to move westward. These Saxon peasants just wanted peace to live in their homes and work the land.

We also stopped to see the Konigberger fortified church that is nearby. The lives of the peasants centered around the Church which is at the center of the fortified village. With a well inside, they could hold out quite some time. Many Saxons settled in Transylvania and still remain. There were many residents here and the Church is well maintained even today. This one is a Lutheran Church. I have seen so many Romanian Orthodox churches that when I walked in, I was surprised to see the familiar arrangement of choir loft, raised pulpit and pews.

Brasov

2008-04-22T16:19:00.008-04:00

We stopped in Brasov for the night. This is a fine Austrian city. Many of the town's buildings were built during the time when Transylvania was a part of the Austrian-Hungarian Empire. The buildings on the square are very tall. Most of them were homes initially. It is hard to imagine the amount of money that must have flowed through here. We did not get into any of them but they must be very large rooms with very high ceilings, judging from the exteriors. We would have liked to have seen the inside of the Black Church, but it seems taht it is seldom open and so we were not able to.

We had no reservations and so when we left the train station we found a cab whose driver knew of a wonderful pensiune where we could stay. The owner was a Japanese man who had married a Romanian woman and later was divorced. From the stories he tells it created quite a stir when he married her. He stayed o in the town and refurbished the Samurai Pensiune. It is clean, warm and inexpensive which was all we wanted.

He gave us directions to Terasa Ceasu'Rau, a traditional restaurant down the street. It was essentially an outdoor restaurant with a small bar where we ate. Many people ate at tables outside but we had had enough cold for one day. The food was grilled outside at a huge fire pit.

The morning was clear and crisp with icy temperatures. We spent the day visiting Bran and Rasnov and then headed back to the square to enjoy the early evening before our train left. There are ski resorts here and so there were people in ski attire, carrying their equipment here and there. We had dinner at a quaint Romanian restaurant and finally walked took a taxi back to the train station to head back to Gura Humorului. The train was cold this evening, even though we were in the number five car which is the one that is closest to the heater. We had a two hour layover in a freezing train station way in the north of Romania and finally arrived home at nine in the morning. I am used to the midnight trains but I don't think the boys found it interesting at all. They were cold and uncomfortable. I am tall and it is hard to get comfortable in a full car, but they are a head taller than I am and a full car was just miserable for them.

Bran Castle in the winter

2008-04-21T13:35:00.012-04:00

It is freezing outside on this cold winter day with wind and blowing snow. Imagine that you have been trudging through mud and snow for days along the valley floor until you come to a bend in the path. Looking up into the mountains you see the imposing outline of Bran Castle against a cold, wintry sky. The ground is already covered with six inches of packed, slippery snow and you are heading up to siege Bran Castle. You would probably have chosen a bright, sunny, summer day when at least it was warm, but you are not in charge. Today your orders are to climb the slippery, steep stone path which is covered with six inches of mud and ice to the front door of Bran Castle and then you are to storm your way into the castle. Several hundred others are pushing you from behind as you trudge up the steep hill and woe to he who trips and falls. When you finally reach the castle entrance, you find a steep set of steps leading to a narrow doorway where there is barely room for two to stand. They are very steep and there are archer holes facing you. You must run the gauntlet amidst flying arrows and boiling oil being poured on you from the ramparts. Those sluice gates look to be well used and so they must be very effective. When you reach the top of the steps, there is a heavy iron and oak door that you must beat down. The steps are narrow and slippery well-worn stone. It is hard to keepyour balance on the tiny steps in the snow, but you must push a battering ram through the narrow doorway. There is no possible way to get any momentum and so you pound at the door. The castle is warm from the fire in the royal soba. Jon has managed to get into the castle and is standing next to the well in the center of the courtyard. At least it looks like a well – it even has a rope and a bucket, but it you climb down into it, you will find a tunnel leading to escape on the next mountain in the Carpathians. Bad enough that you should have to abandon your stronghold, but at least you are spared the indignities of torture at your enemy's hands.

Christmas presents

2008-04-15T22:55:00.002-04:00

I realize there is a need for security and that everyone has to abide by the same rules. Generally, I think that is a good plan. Unfortunately, sometimes the rules are impossible. I have received a few packages from the US since I have been here. The process of actually getting them is interesting. The post office is not always open even if it is supposed to be. I am not talking about a few minutes early, they don't seem to open the village post office at all in the afternoon. Packages from the States stop in Suceava and a tiny notice is sent out. I have 48 hours to arrive at the post office in Suceava to pick up the package. The customs officer is only there from 8 to noon. I have classes from 8 to at least noon on three days. The other two days I have classes until 11. I then have to walk down to the hitching corner and wait for a ride. Each car takes four passengers. I always seem to be the first passenger and so I must wait for three more people. Then we drive to Suceava which takes about 45 minutes on a good day. Then I have to get a cab to the post office as there is not enugh time to walk. I finally walk in to pick up my package. The customs officer is standing at the counter and tells me it is after noon and he can not give me the package. It is 12:08 when he says this. I ask him what I am supposed to do as I have to be in class and can not just take off a day so that I can come pick up a Christmas present. He adamantly refuses to give me the package. Finally, I tell him to send it back as I will not be able to retrieve it within his guidelines. I left, rather disgruntled.

A few weeks later, I ran into Bogdan whose house I had been living in the first semester. He had gone to the post office to pick up another package and they gave him my Christmas present. They charged him ten dollars for storage and this is what it looked like when it got to me…

My new digs

2008-04-15T08:41:00.006-04:00

January brought many changes to my Romanian life. I moved to town first of all. I had been living in the village of Manastirea Humor, but it had become increasingly more difficult to get out as it got colder and winter settled in. The maxitaxi was grand at school hours, but otherwise, it was never consistent. It waited in town unti lit was full and then made the run. It was horrible to wait for an hour before it came by. In balmy weather that is not such a problem. In freezing weather, standing outside is just not fun. When I called for a taxi, they came about half the time. I am sure the girl taking the call was not sure what I was saying, but nevertheless, it was cold standing outside waiting to flag one down. I finally decided to move to town and so I made the move in mid-January. I now have a room in a house with a tailor and his wife. I can now walk anywhere and make plans to go out for a cup of tea if I want at a moment's notice.

The road to my new place is a bit rustic. I am not sure yet whether it is dirt or pavement. It is covered in ice and snow. I have to cross the railroad tracks to get to town. Trains come through rather often. It is an interesting sound as they are electric. I hear the whistle from the station at the other end of town and soon I can feel the train appproaching. The engine is attached to a power cable above and so there is no engine sound. Only the sound of the metal wheels singing on the metal tracks. It gets louder and louder and then the ground seems to tremble. They rumble by every hour or so. It is not loud so much as it is a sound of motion. Some days I wait for the train to pass. It seems to snow a bit every day…

Good Bye Greece!!

2008-04-13T12:52:00.004-04:00

Anafiotika

2008-04-13T12:51:00.011-04:00

This is an interesting area near the Acropolis. In 1830 the ruler of Athens decided that he wanted the best Greek builders in the realm to build his palace. The residents of the island of Analfi were chosen and promptly moved with all of their possessions to Athens. When they realized they were not going to return to their beloved island, they recreated it in their new home in Athens. The area is very steep as it is at the base of the Acropolis hill. The houses form a little village just as they had left on the island. The steep slopes of Acropolis hill were much like the rocky island they came from. The houses are mostly white-washed with narrow paths between them. It hasn't changed very much since then. The streets are still narrow and wind about. These people built most of the major buildings in Athens today.

The village is still intact and filled with delightful little restaurants. As we ascended the steps into the village, the owners of each of the restaurants tried to usher us in. We finally settled on a pretty little one called Aneka's. It was a bit chilly so we opted to sit inside at the fireplace. Dinner was excellent and the company was great fun. It was a wonderful evening. And wonder of wonders – we ran into the Tower of the Winds on our way home. The only time I remember going downhill is after eating dinner here. It was quite steep.

This is where we decided to spend our last night in Greece. It was the perfect choice. The Acropolis gleamed above us as we meandered back to the hotel. It seems to change color every night. Tonight it was colorful. What a great time we had here.

New Year's at the Acropolis

2008-04-13T12:19:00.006-04:00

I am willing to bet that this is simply a bad picture technically, but I really like it. Looks like a Monet of the Acropolis. I took this one early on New Year's Day.

New Year’s in Athens

2008-04-13T12:10:00.003-04:00

I am simply posting the images of a lovely sky lit up by fireworks and the morning sky of the Acropolis. It is magical.

And then the brass band paraded in front of our hotel at 9AM. I enjoyed it but I heard grumbling behind me. I suspect they weren't the only ones groaning at that hour on New Year's Day. And during the night this is what the Acropols liiked like.

The Tower of the Winds

2008-04-13T11:56:00.003-04:00

I have been looking for the Tower of the Winds every day since we arrived. There is no address anywhere that I can find. Of course, if I could speak or read Greek, I would probably be able to find it easily. I have finally given up finding it as this is our last day in Athens. We fly out at an early hour in the morning. I know it is in the Monastriki area but that is about it. We have wandered all over this area. We have gone in search of it several times to no avail. Today we are enjoying what the street vendors have to offer.

I considered one of these rugs but there is not a chance it will fit in the suitcase. The balalaika was wonderful to listen to. We listened for quite a while. Then we wandered among the vendors. Nick found a sweater he liked. Jon was being Joe Cool for the afternoon. We wandered up the streets toward the little village area of Anifiotika and on past some tiny streets and quaint, well-kept houses.

We passed a few restaurants and had a wonderful afternoon. We found a wonderful statue of Lord Byron who, in addition to being a fabulous poet, came to Greece to fight against the Ottoman Empire in the Greek War of Independence. He is a national hero in the eyes of the Greeks.

We kept walking up the hill. Suddenly, there it was – the Tower of the Winds. It has the faces of the eight winds carved on its eight sides around the crown of the building. It stands in the midst of rubble from other buildings which did not survive. It was used by a priest in medieval times and so was saved the wrecking ball that seems to have demolished all else around it. It was built by an astronomer in the first century BCE.

Athens traffic

2008-04-13T10:13:00.001-04:00

The traffic in Greece is quite civilized. There are more yellow cabs and buses than anything else it seems. And there is more traffic at 3AM than at 9AM. The streets were brimming with cars and motorcycles last night. This morning there is almost no traffic at all. It seems that most of Europe lives by a different clocks than we Americans do.. I get up at four or five every morning, no matter what continent I am on, no matter the season. It is bedtime that changes. When it gets dark I get sleepy unless I have something to keep me busy.

We have mastered the subway system now. We know which line goes where and which one we want. The subways are very clean. It is nice not to have to look down at where you are going in case of presents or missing pavement. There has been a live band at one of the popular interchanges underground for the past few days. I am betting it is just for the holidays, but you never know. It is wonderful to stop and listen to the music though.

Temple of Olympian Zeus

2008-04-13T09:58:00.002-04:00

Today we took the subway to where we thought we would find the Temple of the Olympian Zeus. As we have come to expect, it was not where it seemed like it ought to be on the map. The guidebooks all say that none of the ancient sites here are marked very well. That is so true. The street signs are in Greek of course. There are few pictographs to help the tourist. There is no Map of the Stars such as we have in Hollywood. And so, we head out each morning with a destination in mind and are happy if we find it and find something else to enjoy if we can't find it.

From the Acropolis, the Temple of Olympian Zeus is visible. It must be huge as we can easily see the columns from where we stood on the Likovitos Hill where the Pantheon stands. It would seem that you could see these gigantic monuments from a distance as they are mammoth, but you can't. As the city has grown up around them, the perspective is out of whack and something always seems to be in my line of vision.

We have been walking for ages and have decided to look for a place to eat when we spy the Arch of Hadrian. It is an interesting archway with another, more delicate archway on top of it. On the side which faces Athens, it is inscribed with This is Athens, the ancient city of Theseus. On the other side, it says This is the city of Hadrian, not of Theseus. This park separates ancient city from the new Athens of Hadrian. Talk about an ego…

It is of interest that the columns are not one big pieces of marble as I imagined, but sections. This particular column fell during a thunderstorm in a recent century. The sections all fell in a nice row.
Peisistratos began construction of the temple in the sixth century BCE, but it was not completed until Hadrian's time. He dedicated it to Zeus in 132 ADE at the Panhellenic Festival. It is the largest temple in Athens, larger than the Pantheon. One corner of the building remains. Much of the rest of the building was scavenged for subsequent building projects. The columns are 56 feet in height. The building was 130 feet wide. Standing next to them makes you wonder how they ever managed to put it all together. The lines are very clean as you look through the columns to the blue sky. Kudos to the architect.

The complex includes a huge series of baths, both men's and women's. This carving is set at the base of the women's baths.

An Afternoon by the Sea

2008-04-13T04:04:00.003-04:00

Today we decided that we should go to the Sea. After all, who knows when I will get back here again? It would be a crime to be as close as this and not dip my toe into the Mediterranean, even if it is cold. Although I brought a bathing suit to go for a swim, I have no desire to join the Polar Bear Club. The water is not frozen but it is not warm either. The weather is 50 degrees warmer than it is in GH, but it is still not hot.

Walking to the Metro, we see Athena everywhere. She is certainly the patron of Athens. Scattered amongst the new and restored buildings are piles of restorations in progress. They are everywhere. I am surprised that there is so much still here. I would have thought that the building material would have been long ago used in some newer project. Mr Jon Cool is having a grand time.

We took the metro to Piraeus and looked around. This is the working port of Athens. It is where we will begin our trip today. No matter where you look there are ruins of something or other – some are labeled and some are not. It is going to take a long time and a lot of money to get them all restored. By the time we make our plan, we are all starving. There is something about the sea breeze that makes us hungry. We walked along the quay for a bit and considered the street vendors offerings. We looked in several restaurants and finally decided that we wanted to go farther down the coast to see the Sea where it wasn't so congested. For only the second time since I have arrived in Romania, I went to a McDonalds. It was a familiar port, so to speak, and so we didn't have to figure out the menu. This one is decorated in a nautical theme with life rings on the walls. The front was entirely glassed in so that we can see the water while we scarf down those familiar quarter-pounders.
A few dollars lighter, we walked farther down the quay until we found a bus that would take us down the coast. We found a delightful restaurant and sat by the window and watched the activity. There was still no beach to speak of – only a dock that went all the way to Piraeus in one directions and who knows where at the other end. It was simply lovely. We watched ships sailing by. There are huge freighters and cruise ships plying the waters. More interesting are the smaller boats that are probably locals out for a day in the sun.

City of motorcycles

2008-04-13T03:47:00.003-04:00

Jon has done some reading about Athens and says that many of the street musicians are actually academy-trained and are displaced people rather than the beggars I am so used to seeing. We stopped to listen to this gentleman play the clarinet for a while. He was quite good. Jon tossed some coins into his hat as a thank you.

Walking around Athens is easy enough as the weather is quite nice for the Christmas holidays. There are zillions of motorcycles everywhere. The boys decided that they would come back another time, buy motorcycles and then just ride and hit the beaches. Some of the streets go straight up. Somehow we never seem to find ourselves going downhill.

We have been all over the ancient sites – the ones that we can find, that is. We are getting to be pros on the Metro because the stops are written in Greek and in a Latinized Greek alphabet. The subway is immaculate. It is a pleasure to be here – if only I spoke the language. French is useless here, but a combination of English and hand gestures goes a long way. We came back through the Plaka in the daylight and it is just as busy in mid-afternoon.

We are just around the corner from this. It is quite a sight at any time of day. There are Santas with ponies for children to ride. A merry-go-round and thousands of balloons. It is like being at the fair every day. There are restaurants along the outside ring. Even a free wi-fi café.

The Plaka

2008-04-06T01:25:00.002-04:00

We descended into the Plaka district which all shops and street vendors and restaurants. People, people, and more people. What a crowded city. Four and a half million people live in Athens and it seems like many of them are out and about today. All that walking and fresh air gave us an appetite and so we looked for a Greek restaurant, rather than a tourist restaurant. We found this one somewhere in the area. We never found it again but the food was delicious. The boys had a glass of ouzu and decided that they would leave it for the Greeks.

The Acropolis

2008-04-06T01:05:00.003-04:00

We finally reach the top. It is much colder up here and I wish I had a coat now. We follow the crowds up the stairs of the temple. It is under construction and so there is scaffolding everywhere. It takes away from the mysteriousness, but I can see that a return trip in a few years will have the entire complex restored to its former glory. The columns are huge. It would take four or five people holding hands to circle the base of any of them. I hadn't known that each column is actually a stack of marble sections that are balanced one on top of nest next. It is amazing that the people who built these ancient temples even contemplated building these temples. Even with modern technology it would be difficult. Imagine lifting these marble behemoths with just strong backs and cantilevers. No wonder the ancients invented math and physics!

As we walked higher and higher into the temple, I felt more and more like an ant. So many tourists milling around, it was like being in a sea, pushed through the walkways by so many tourists. That is what is wonderful about Eastern Europe – there is something to see everywhere and there are very few lines of people. Most of the time I am the only person there and I can ask all the questions I want to and not feel like I am taking too much time. As this is not the high tourist time, I can only imagine how crowded this must be in the summertime. Glad I am here now.

Each of these stones is marked with its original location so that eventually it can all be pieced back together again. What an immense undertaking that is. These temples dedicated to Athena still look over Athens with the mountains in the distance. From the other side, the sea stretches out forever. Today there are two ships in the harbor. This would have been an excellent vantage point for a military outlook.

To the very south of this complex is a huge round patio that is dedicated to Aeolus, the god of the Winds. I am sure that someone must have stood watch here to keep an eye out for ships approaching the city. The wind absolutely howls across the patio. We have to lean into the wind to cross the patio. As soon as we leave the patio, the wind turns back into a breeze. Maybe Aeolus is still around.

Just a few feet away from the patio is an enormous olive tree. It is said to have been planted by Athena herself. When I stand up here in front of the Acropolis, surrounded by her other temples, it is just possible to imagine Athena dropping in from time to time to give advice to the priests tending the temples. It is not wholly fantastical to imagine Athena planting this tree.

When we finally returned to our hotel ro much later in the day, Apollo was nearly finished driving his chariot to the west. The sun;ps rays were tinged with that pink that heralds a beautiful day tomorrow.

The Theatre of Dionysus

2008-04-05T09:57:00.003-04:00

What a huge complex of buildings. I wasn't prepared for the immensity of it all. It is easy to see why the Greeks were able to conquer most of the world from here. It is a long way up, but thanks to my walking practice in Romania, I am going up the hill, cutting through the rocky swath out to the edge to see Athens far below. We walk south from the city up the hill, finally arriving at the eastern end at the entrance to the Theatre of Dionysus. I have read about this place for years. I have described this first theatre to my classes for years. And now I am finally here to see it. It is gigantic. It seats 5,000 and each one of the seats has a fabulous view of the stage. The seats have been rebuilt with a beautiful white stone. A new stage has been built above the original one and there is a technical platform built above the seats for the sound and light crews to work from. This is where Yanni – Live at the Acropolis was recorded and I am sure there have been other performers as well.

This theatre is built into the side of the cliff face. The seats are carved out of the cliff above the stage area which sits on a ledge farther down the cliff. Looking to the stage from any seat affords a spectacular view of Athens and the mountains beyond. There are enough remnants of the original building that I can imagine a play in progress. I see the Chorus walking out onto the stage, followed by Thespis to say his lines to begin a new play. It is late afternoon and the city stretches out behind them, rising into the mountains. The sun beats down as Thespis and the Chorus move through the script. 5,000 Athenians sitting on the marble seats, watching and listening intently. They can see through the arches to the city beyond. Too far to hear the sounds of the city, they will spend the day here watching several plays and dining on picnic lunches on the grass outside the theatre in between the plays.

As the Chorus leaves the stage for the last time, the audience cheers and then turns to talk with those around them. The sunset is changing the sky from brilliant blue to purple and then black. Stars twinkle in the sky as the revelers finally head for home.

The Road to the Acropolis

2008-04-05T02:12:00.003-04:00

There are places I want to see because they are there and the Acropolis is one of them. It is at the top of my agenda for Athens. Our room overlooks it and the view is terrific. Or maybe I should say the Acropolis overlooks our room as it loom sover the entire city. When we arrived, we wandered around the Plaka district the first afternoon. It is an interesting, crowded city. The Plaka is the Old Town, so to speak, of Athens. It is full of street vendors and all sorts of trendy shops. People stroll and children ride on the merry-go-round holding onto huge helium balloons. There are clowns and pony rides. All sorts of street food. A plethora of things to see.

We bought ourselves a week-long pass for the subway and we were off to explore the city. First stop was the Acropolis. I have studied the Greeks and their mythology for some years and find it most interesting to see how other people in another time saw the world. I am actually walking in some of the same streets as Homer and Sophocles, Plato and Socrates.

I remember reading some years ago about some of the treasures that they found when they started to dig a new subway tunnel in time for the Olympics. One of the first things to see was the descriptions of what was found and replicas all over the subway system. I particularly remember reading about these horses. It was really neat to see them in person. This replica is hanging on the wall of the subway, as are many other artifacts that were found.
We headed straight for it as soon as we dropped off our suitcases. The guidebooks say that the ancient sites are not well marked and they are right. We knew about where it was and headed uphill through the tiny, crowded streets. The streets leading up to the Acropolis are very narrow and filled with restaurants and shops and so many people. As we passed them, many of the shopkeepers were on the sidewalks luring in the tourists with their postcards and replicas of various Greek heroes and sites. So many versions of the Trojan Horse. It was difficult to stick together and still negotiate our way uphill. There are people everywhere and so many of them. I have been in the hinterlands for too long.

What I was not prepared for was the Greek alphabet. This probably sounds ridiculously stupid, but in my planning, I felt confident that I could find my way around using maps. That works well if you can read Greek. I forgot that it is not a Latin-based language. The alphabet is completely different and I don’t know the sounds for the letters. It might have helped if I did. Little did I know that joining a sorority in college would have been useful. The map we had was in Anglicized Greek, but the street signs were in real Greek. English is not a universal language in Greece and so we had to cipher our way most of the time.

After a bit of meandering uphill, we found the entrance to the Acropolis park. It sits atop a huge flat-topped rock that overlooks the Mediterranean Sea. On the way up the hill there were several other ruins in various stages of restoration. The Greeks are trying to restore all of the ancient monuments. It is a daunting task. I find it amazing that so much is actually left after two thousand or so years. I am surprised it wasn’t looted and used by any number of people in their houses or palaces.

This road has obviously been repaved over the centuries but it is still the same path that the ancient Greeks walked to get to the Acropolis. It is a wide, gently sloping path. On either side are ruins of one sort or another. Some are labeled, but many are not. It is amazing that archeologists can figure out what things were from the piles of ruins lying everywhere.

Spring has sprung

2008-03-23T23:46:00.002-04:00

Spring is arriving and so my feet have been itching to get out and see more of Romania. This weekend was tremendous! I met Alina, a teacher who was a Fulbrighter to Washington state in 2005 earlier in the week and was invited for Saturday afternoon to meet her family and do a bit of exploring. We had such fun and it was very late on Sunday when I returned home. We visited many beautiful places around and about this region which I had not seen before and have plans to see more soon. I will have to stop being lazy and get the postings I have already written as I am gettting behind. More soon!

Arriving in Athens

2008-03-12T13:43:00.002-04:00

Imagine a winter holiday with no snow!

Greece. Never been there but certainly know a lot about the ancient sites. What an opportunity to see them first-hand. The flight is smooth. They even served breakfast and it is only a ninety minute flight. It is cloudy most of the way and so we are not able to see the geography at all until we are nearly there. Suddenly the clouds thin and the Mediterranean is as blue as I imagined it to be and the Greek islands come into view. We made it through customs with no issues and whoosh – we are out into the Greek sunshine.

A trip on the airport express train to the city centre and then we are off to find our hotel. We managed to find the absolutely busiest street in Athens to walk up. The taxi is outrageous. In Athens you don't share a taxi nd divvy up the fare. The driver is allowed to pick up as many people as he can fit in the car. Then he charges each one full fare and that is considered fair. Check the meter when you get in as you only need to pay from that point. Of course, if you don't, you will pay from the beginning of the ride. We have a map and the address. The shortest route is not always the fastest. Monastriki is one of the newest subway stops and it seems that it is already one of the most crowded ones also. We have arrived in town at 11 in the morning with our suitcases in tow. We find that everything is written in Greek. OK, that is not a surprise, but I did expect to be able to read the street signs. Unfortunately, they are not even close to what my English map says. It seems that the street names have been translated into English on the map. Trouble is, I am looking at the street names in Greek, not in translation. There is a huge YOU ARE HERE map across the road and so we trudge over to see if we can figure it out. Not a chance. Luckily, there is an American couple from North Carolina who head us off in the general direction of the Plaka where our hotel is.

I had purposely chosen a hotel in the heart of it all so that we will be able to walk anywhere we want. I have chosen the oldest, quaintest part of town because it is more interesting to wander through. I have also chosen the busiest street, the narrowest street, the street with vendors' wares laid out in the street, the street that is uphill all the way. There couldn't be a worse street to choose to introduce us to Athens. We pushed out way uphill, through hoards of people, over cobblestones that you couldn't see for the crush of the crowds. After asking for directions several times, we finally arrived, a bit bedraggled, at our hotel. The doorman offered to carry our bags, but it seemed silly at this point. We checked in and found our way to the eighth floor.

It was worth the struggle. We are supposed to have a view of the Acropolis, but we all know how those views can be. Well, this time we were rewarded beyond our wildest dreams. There it is, exactly as I hoped it would be.

Waiting in Bucuresti

2008-03-12T13:18:00.002-04:00

Christmas was yesterday. Today is Boxing Day. It seems really odd to be wandering around Bucuresti with no one to talk to. Everyone I know is with family while mine is still in the air. I have arrived in the early morning and almost no one has ventured out into the frosty morning as yet.

I wander down streets that have become so familiar. The archways of tree boughs over the boulevards are covered with a thick ice that would leave many households without power at home. That does not seem to be an issue here. Everything is pristine white. The sparkling trees give the feeling of a fairy land of Christmas. It could not be prettier. The roads are shiny with a thin covering of ice.

It is very peaceful. It feels as if I am alone in this big city while I wait for my boys to get here. I catch the Metro to Unirii Piata to take a look at the tallest Christmas tree in Europe. Every country in Europe wants to have the biggest, the tallest, the first, the oldest, the only … Romania has its share of superlatives. In particular is this tree. I saw it being constructed at Thanksgiving. It is like a giant tinker toy, connected with bolts and wires.

I am here so early that the only place that is open is McDonald's. I stop in for a cup of tea as it is too cold to stand outside.

Across the street is the Bucuresti Mall. It is time to see what shopping can be like in Romania. It is similar to many other shopping areas. Lots of little shops, many with the same items and the same price. It is very frustrating. I do not want to look at the same things over and over, but see a variety of goods so that I can choose between them. That is one of the main differences between America and eastern Europe.

Rachel – This image is for you.

Finally, it is time to head for the airport. The plane comes in at 2:55pm. It is a little after noon and it seems like a good time to start heading out there. I do not ever seem to the times quite right and so I have a novel to read while I wait for the plane to arrive. I take the Metro to Romana Piata and then buy a ticket for the Express bus to the Otopeni. As I expected, I just missed the bus and it is a thirty minute wait for the next one. When it arrives, I hop on and ride forever to the airport. I am about a half hour early – perfect! Then I check the Arrivals board. The flight is delayed an hour and twenty minutes – good thing I have something to read. I wait.

Finally, they arrive. It is so good to see them. We collect all of their stuff and head for the hotel to get rid of it. The Christmas lights make it an even better evening. We walk around the city for a bit as we catch up with each other. We watch the skaters in Unirii Piata. And the tree all lit.

The things you see when wandering around Bucharest

2008-03-09T10:23:00.010-04:00

I have found myself in Bucuresti more times than I care to mention. I had thought that I would get more traveling in but I am exactly where you can't get there from here. It is a seven to ten hour train ride to almost anywhere and then you take a plane. It doesn't make for weekending unfortunately. Thus all of my traveling has been in-country. There is actually much to see in this tiny little country. Every hamlet has something of interest. I have also run into some interesting sites in Bucharest on my numerous trips to attend meetings and take care of business.

It is Friday after Thanksgiving. You would think there was no room for any more food but we are starved. We find a delightful little restaurant with just the right ambiance. The tea was excellent, served with individual tea caddies. It was easy to find as it is right underneath a humongous sign advertising my camera. I am not open for advertising usually but I will say that this little camera has been excellent for me. It is advertised for over three thousand lei. That is about twelve hundred dollars! I splurged on this camera but not even close to that much.

Then it was time to head out for the day. Geademus is the book exhibition. It was fabulous, but so was getting there. I took a taxi because I wasn't sure of the directions and it seemed a good idea. Note that I took this picture from the back seat. The crucifix is heaving itself back and forth as it hangs from the rear view mirror. We are traveling relatively fast and to make it a shorter trip, the driver turns onto the trolley track. Note that we are alone on the tracks so we make great time, but I really hope he knows the schedule well. We go two blocks before he turns off onto another thoroughfare. He took us over the trolley tracks, through several truck yards complete with moving traffic, around the back of the building to the exhibition. He said it was shorter – it certainly was more interesting.

After a great morning permeated with the smell of new books, I headed back to the hotel to drop them off. I was ready for a bu ride because books are too heavy to carry. Buses are quite clean here. I bought a ticket and hopped onto the first bus. I found myself talking to a delightful lady whose husband had spent time in the Romanian Embassy. Her favorite posting had been China and so we talked for three stops about her life there and the state of affairs in Romania today. It would not have been such a memorable discussion had traffic been moving, but it was forty-five minutes to go five or six blocks. She was a dear and so the time passed ever so quickly. I hopped onto another bus and found a seat this time. Camera at the ready I snapped these next few.

The blocks go forever. Row after endless row of them. Having been in a few of them, I know that insulation is iffy at best. Cold concrete is my experience. This year I notice some enterprising apartment dwellers have covered their windows with tin foil. It is hard to tell if it is the thin foil or the heavy duty from this distance. I can think of only a few reasons for it. Maybe it deflects the cold air – although it would also deflect the sun's warming rays. Maybe it keeps the blustery wind from hurtling through the cracks in the sealant and the windows themselves. Maybe they are better than tin foil hats and they are warding off an alien invasion. If that is the case, then we are safe as I saw quite a few windows like this today.

Amidst this rush of traffic, getting around can be an issue. I know I have been late now and again as it takes so much longer to get where I am going. There are two million people in Bucuresti and one million cars. Do the math. It is a slog during business hours. It lightens up after seven, but only a little. I wonder if some of these people don't have a flat and have to keep driving because they have nowhere to go. There are many beggars on the streets here as there are all over Romania. This one is rather enterprising. I notice he has a cane and a crutch attached to the back of his bike. He has a big cushy seat for comfort, but check out the mirror. His rear view mirror is bigger than the one on my car at home! I gather he must ride a long way to get to wherever he sets up shop everyday. As I am walking to the bus stop with all of my books in tow, he passed me up crossing the street. Maybe he was afraid he would get hit.

And as a last thought, it should be a cheery thought. It is Thanksgiving this weekend and so it must be on calendars worldwide that it is Toys for Tots weekend. There was a huge parade of motorcycles heading across our path. They were stopped at the light for us to pass. Even Santa was in on the ride. Maybe he was along to be sure everyone gets home safely. I have seen how some of these things go…

Wintry day in the Tower

2008-03-09T10:12:00.002-04:00

I can only imagine what it must have been like to live in these stone buildings in the winter. This makes for an interesting image of a silhouette in the tower window. This window is built specifically for an archer. It has the narrow window for shooting through opening out into a wide standing area for the archer to peer from. He gets a full view of the outside, while those trying to storm the tower can only see a tiny slit with very little chance of getting an arrow inside and hitting the target. But he also gets the full blast of the weather coming in from the outside. What a hard life it must have been.

For three seasons it is great fun to imagine that time has stood still and there are knights and castles and dragons roaming the countryside. From the top of the tower it is not impossible to imagine all of those things looking out over the mountains. But today is Christmas Eve and it is mighty cold out. It is snowing soft, light flakes. I have managed to climb to the top of the tower once again which is quite a feat. During the times when this was an active tower there would have been people running up and down the stairs all day long. The passageways are very narrow and the stone steps are uneven and worn smooth and there are no lights even today. They would have been extremely dangerous if they were wet and you were in a hurry.

The sky is darkening as daytime draws to a close. I can imagine watchers of old peering out into valleys, looking for signs of marauders. The glint of a knight's armor would have sent the entire complex into a tizzy. A line of men with torches could easily be a dragon meandering through the forest. And there are certainly castles nestled all through the Romanian landscape. Looking out through the dusk, horses and carutes are wending their way home for Christmas dinner with family. It is not hard to imagine a time when these stone fortresses were active defenses.

Christmas dinner at Polchritui's

2008-03-08T12:13:00.004-05:00

Today was one of the most difficult days so far. It is very odd to be so far away from everyone you know and everything you usually do at the holidays. It seems rather as if it really isn't happening, even though everyone else is getting ready for a feast and to see family and friends. This area is very family oriented and it seems that many of those who have left return for the holidays. There was much merry-making everywhere as people renew old friendships.

The chemistry teacher invited me to have Christmas dinner with her family. I am not sure se knows how wonderful it was to have a place to go to, regardless of the language barriers. It was very different from the dinners we have at home. There were so many different kinds of sausage that she had made. And beet salads. And potato salads. And cheeses. And meatballs. And sarmales. There was entirely too much of everything. I think that all Romanians have a hollow leg as they can eat and eat and eat, and then eat some more. I have never seen people consume so much food at one sitting and it happens all the time. And the food is so rich. I can't even come close. They are all sure that I am starving and will die if I don't eat more but I simply can't. It is not the cooking because I like the food, I simply cannot eat so much grease and fat. I guess I really do subscribe to the American no-fat diet. I remember when I first went to Lithuania; the food was very similar in fat content. It is simply way higher in fat than I am used to. I find myself shopping in the diet section of the shops.

But the absolute best of all was the dessert. It was heavenly. A wonderful, moist yellow cake with a rich creamy center and a sweet whipped cream for frosting with lots of fruits. Everyone knows that I live for dessert and this was the best I have had since I arrived in Romania, bar none! I am going to have to get the recipe for this one. Maybe I can trade for my pumpkin pie recipe…

Christmas Eve sky

2008-03-08T11:25:00.006-05:00

Christmas is very different this year. I have never been away from home before. I can only imagine what it is like for others in my predicament. It is not so much the away-ness of Romania as it is the away-ness of my boys and my mom. I do miss them today. It has been an odd day. There is nothing to fill it with as everyone is at home with their families getting ready for this evening and tomorrow. They are cooking and putting finishing touches on the decorations. Most people will put up and decorate a tree this evening. I have none of that and no where to be at all. No purpose at all. It is lonely living in a house where I am being shunned and so I am endeavoring to find other places to be. I am in much better shape now than I was when I first got here. I would call a taxi but where would I tell him to take me. I have no destination. I have determined to make the five kilometer hike into town as there are probably no maxitaxis running today.

It is early afternoon but the sun is already starting to set in the village. The sky is lit with brilliant clouds of blue and silver and white. Fitting colors for today. It is a lovely day to go for a walk. Maybe it is such a beautiful day that it feels warmer than it is, but I don't feel the cold today at all. The fresh snow is glistening on everything. I don't remember a prettier Christmas Eve. At least I have that.

I wander to up Toaca Mountain. It is such a peaceful place up there. One of my student's uncles is smoking fish for the festivities tomorrow. He has been tending the fire all day and will stay until they are all perfect for the feast. They have been intricately tied so that none of the meat will disappear into the fire. He uses this scooped out tree trunk to hold the fish and to move it from here to there as a sled. Quite an interesting tool. Probably has not changed in form in hundreds of years and still doing the job well.

Farther along I find an interesting tradition. The priest is walking from house to house. He is a priest I have seen at other occasions. There are quite a few priests that I see while I am out walking but there seem to be only three who are involved with school activities. I am not sure who the man is with the priest, but he is happy to take any alms that are offered. He has big pockets. Small boys scamper ahead of the priest holleringwhat sounds like, " Kies eleve!" which means, "Here he comes." I am not sure if they are referring to the priest or the Christ child that he embodies as he moves steadily from house to house down the mountain. Outside each house the family stand, passing the time with their neighbors as the priest gets closer and closer. They hold lit candles as part of the ritual. It is quite a sight to look up and down the street. There is a line of candles as far as I can see. He is dressed in his regular robes, although he dos not wear a coat on this blustery day. He carries an icon of the manger scene with him as he makes his calls. When he finally arrives, he enters the house and says a prayer to bless the house and its inhabitants for the coming year.

It is interesting that it is still broad daylight up here on the mountain, while it was getting to dusk in the valley some time ago. That just shows how really big these mountains are. The town is bathed in a pink glow that is cast by the setting sun.

Victor makes gravestones for a living. He also makes his own wine. He is quite a character. His back yard is full of unfinished grave markers in various stages of completion. They are an odd sight, out of place as they are.
The jingle of sleigh bells can be heard in the distance. Soon a horse and carute come into sight from farther up the mountain. The horse trots along with his red tassels flying and the bells on his harness jingling. This family is headed for a Christmas celebration with family somewhere nearby.

It is not until later that the sun starts to disappear up here. Suddenly it is night. I hadn't noticed it getting dark. The full moon casts a glow over the entire area. It will be peaceful for at least this night.

Students Caroling on Christmas Eve

2008-03-08T10:58:00.002-05:00

A most interesting tradition…

Each teacher has a number of classes which get together on Christmas Eve. They go from one teacher's house to the next, caroling for as many as they can. Teachers in town have more groups than those in the villages simply because of logistics. I am five kilometers from town and it is too far to walk and so the students must find a ride (for twenty to thirty kids) or pass.

One group that hazarded the snow and ice was my 10A class. They brought instruments and sang quite well. The students then expect remuneration in the form of food and drink. The tangerines disappeared in no time.

Blessing of the Machina

2008-03-08T10:41:00.002-05:00

Every place has its idiosyncrasies and one of the most outstanding ones here is the practice of the Blessing of the Machina. Machina is the Romanian word for automobile and so there is a blessing especially for cars. At first, I found this uproariously laughable. Note that I have arrived in a very religious land from America, the land where we don't ask your beliefs as it might offend you and so religion is not worn on the sleeve of every American as it is here. One of the first questions anyone asks here is what my religion is. At first I was taken aback and said I prefer to keep that to myself. Then I began to see that in this society, where religion is the only hope there is to look to in the horrific times many of these people have lived through, then it is not such a probing question at all.

When riding the crowded maxitaxis, each time we pass a church everyone on the bus genuflects, sometimes once, sometimes three times, I havenlt quite figured out what the difference is. As there are quite a few of them on the way to school in the morning, it was amusing to watch. The buses are unbelievably crowded, and, yet, they all are busy making the motion. At one place there are two churches and a shrine jammed right next to each other. Imagine 50 people on a bus that says its maximum is 13 plus the driver, all genuflecting at the same time, three times in a row. It is quite a sight.

Life has been very hard on people in this part of Romania and they have not really kept up with the times. There are many who still subsistence farm with horses and hand-made plows. There is even a store here on the outskirts of town where you can buy a carute. A carute is the cart that the horses pull through town. I am told they last anywhere from 50 to 100 years. Can you imagine being able to sustain a retail establishment that sells a product with that long of a lifetime? These are not built to self-destruct two days after the warranty is over. Move over General Motors and Ford!

With this in mind, it is easy to imagine a society that feels the need for their God to look over them and give them even a little assistance on their way through this life. In earlier times, the carts and the horses were all blessed to have a long life as they had not the means to replace them as we do today. It was a bit of added insurance that we if took good care of their tools they would last just that much longer.

And so as this part of Romania moves into the twenty-first century, so has the Romanian Orthodox Church. There is a service specific to blessing cars. As I left the Christmas celebration in the Cantina at school, there was a blessing going on outside that I was able to participate in. Two of the religion teachers at school are priests and they were busy blessing the entire new school car. They blessed the trunk area, all four doors, the engine and the outside of the car. Holy water was flying as not only the car, but the Director and a few of the teachers, including the driver's ed teacher and we who were in attendance were liberally blessed with holy water.

What I had originally thought of as terribly funny, I have come to see as a natural transference of the blessing of the horses to the blessing of the horseless carriage. It is a hope for a prosperous life.

Legitimati finally!

2008-03-03T23:05:00.003-05:00

Four trips to Suceava and I finally have my legitimati. This is rather important as I would not be allowed back in the country without it now. You are allowed to come to Romania in the first place and are supposed to apply for a legitimate shortly after beginning to work. I gather it is something like our Green Card. I have collected quite a bit of paperwork to put this in place. I did what I was asked to do at each juncture of the process. Without the card, I should have left the country before I had been here ninety days and then returned. It seems that you can leave the country every ninety days and return and the process period is extended for another ninety days. I had forgotten about this until the ninety days already passed and so I had to hope that the card would be there.

Each time previously, the policeman had asked that I return after thirty days. The last time, he did not give me a date and so I waited the thirty days and went anyway. It was a beautiful day and the ride was uneventful. IT was the Friday before Christmas when I arrived and walked to the police station and found the policeman still in the office. I asked if my legitimate was ready and he pulled an envelope from his drawer. I am not sure how long it had been there, but this time he did not call me to tell me. I wonder how long he would have left it there without contacting me.

I managed to find my way back to the hitch-hike place and get a ride back to Gura Humorului, and then a ride in the maxitaxi to Manasterii. Back to the peaceful horse and carutes. They have the sleds and sleighs out now and so it is even more like a picture postcard.

Primary classes Christmas presentation

2008-03-02T12:00:00.004-05:00

All of the classes have prepared presentations for Craciun which are great fun. Even the little ones have traditional costumes. They have prepared a morning of singing and poetry especially for me. Many of them are dressed in traditional costumes. The third form class has made Christmas cards for me – in English – with pictures and delightful wishes for a wonderful holiday season. Some of them have included pictures of themselves so that I will know who they are. I had thought there was only the one class of them, but it seems that there are quite a few – maybe the entire primary classes. They really belt out the songs they have learned. Some are in English and some in Romanian. It is wonderful to see them. On the spot, a pair of boys decided to perform a skit. It is in Romanian and so I am not sure what they are saying, but the audience is having a grand time. Maybe they have a future as stand-up comedians.

Pagan Life Cycle Ritual Dance

2008-03-02T08:00:00.007-05:00

This is something I would never have expected to see here although I should not have been surprised. As in Lithuania, the Romanians have held onto some of the more meaningful traditions from pagan times. This is a dance that would have originated with the winter solstice celebrations. In that darkest of times during the year, people would have needed to know that the rebirth of spring would come. Even though it comes every year, there is solace is being reassured in a time before science as we know it, that spring would, indeed, be coming.

This particular dance is a re-enactment of the birth, growth, harvest, and rebirth cycle that continues year after year. It fits in with the birth of the Christ child as a symbol of this same cycle. The bear figures prominently in this dance. (Remember that half the bears in Europe roam the mountains of Romania.) The bear was certainly a fearsome beast at an earlier time and it can still strike abject terror into anyone who comes across one unexpectedly even today. The stories are not pretty. The goat is the other animal involved in this ritual. There are characters dressed in black who represent death.

The drummers and chanters are the humans in the spectacle. The headdresses are completely wild. They are composed of peacock feathers and shiny glass globes. How they keep them on their heads while jumping around in this dance is beyond me. The drummers have a wonderful rhythm as they beat out the story. I get the feeling the same boys do this year after year. There is certainly an almost sacred passing of the drum that occurs. Some of these drums are very old. They have a very distinct shape to them which makes them very portable. The barrel shaped instrument emits an eerie hum when the leather thong is pulled through tiny slits in the drum head. All in all, it is an otherworldly feeling. I wish I was more of a musician as I am certain that my description of these ancient instruments could be much better if I had the words to explain.

They tell the story while the animals and death figures show the story. This is very reminiscent of the early drama where a narrator tells a story and the actors mime the action. Every night for a week, I hear the drummers out and about in town, pounding out a rhythm that has probably not changed in millennia.

This is an uncut version of the action from my camera. It is a bit unsteady in parts. Later I will put it in a better format, but here it is for now. This is obviously a low-budget production, but it is truly fascinating. Throughout the week I have seen these characters, in more elaborate costumes, but always the same headdress, walking along the roadways as I have traveled hither and yon across the countryside.

End of the Year Traditions

2008-03-02T07:47:00.005-05:00

As the school year comes to a close for the winter holidays, the students are having a tough time concentrating on their studies. They have many practices for the Christmas presentations they will give. It seems every one of the 2000 students has a traditional costume tucked away someplace or another. There are the Polish students with the reds and whites of their regions. The Romanians from Bucovina which is this area wear gold on black costumes with highlights of silver and red. The men wear white woolen jerkins and pants with braid of the same colors. Over that is a fur vest trimmed in gold and black and the black goat skin hat. Both men's and women's costumes are trimmed in mink or a similar dark brown fur. I am sure it was originally to keep them warm in the cold winter months here in the mountains. They are still worn today for the same reason. Almost every day, I see men dressed in these traditional costumes going about town, taking care of business.

The twelfth form students from each class have all sorts of presentations to perform. It seems that each class has been busy. 12K had an evening of song and poetry for each of the teachers they had over their four years in the school. They decorated the multi-media room for us with fruits and nuts, homemade wine, and candles. It was a delightful scene. It was quite nice for us to enjoy their entertainment and then to enjoy conversation amongst ourselves afterwards. They disappeared discreetly and we stayed for hours.

I am not sure which other classes were involved, but I recognized 12A students in the choral presentation for the evening. They sang many traditional Romanian carols. It is uncanny how they are so similar to our own. I even recognize some of the words. There is a short clip of their singing. The camera work is horrendous and then the batteries died but the sound is worth listening to for a minute.

Another group acted out a traditional story about a girl and a boy falling in love.

And then, of course, there is the dinner, which is traditional sausages and sarmales with wine. Tonight there will be no dancing as it is a time of fasting until Christmas Day and then, look out!

So many presentations. Later there was a knock on the window. When it was opened, we were entertained by a raucous group of twelfth formers, all in traditional dress, who had written light-hearted poems about all their teachers. Each class had a poem to present. This tradition goes back to another ancient tradition. Apparently, they can not be allowed in as they represent the devil. I would guess that in another time the poetry would have been much more intimidating. It has become a grand tradition here in Gura Humorului for students to have fun with their teachers.

I have a separate post with a video of this excellent remnant of a pagan ritual. Just the costumes are fabulous. Can you imagine walking in this headpiece, much less dancing!?

When it is finally time to go home, I decide to walk as it is not all that cold. This night is still and there are very few sounds. Almost no traffic. There is a full moon for Christmas

12K Cracuin Presentation

2008-03-02T06:24:00.005-05:00

I have a number of classes and it is hard to keep track sometimes which student is from which class, but this one is memorable. Craciun means Christmas in Romanian. I have a few students whose last name is Cracuin and it was a few weeks before I realized what the name meant. Cristina is the one who finally made sense to me. I thought they were all looking forward to the next holiday, when actually it was their name they were trying to explain. Cristine is a student in 12K and it was her class that decided to put together a delightful Christmas presentation for the teachers they had studied with during their four years in high school. It was quite nice.

This particular celebration was specifically for the teachers of the 12K class. It is was a thank you to the professors who care about them and all the hard work put into getting them from ninth formers to graduation. Romania has an interesting organization for their students. Each class meets with their diriginte twice a week for an hour so that they can iron out any problems that might be brewing, to council the students, to keep them on the straight and narrow. The diriginte for this class is very proud of them. I often see her talking with her students and checking with other teachers to see how they are getting along. It reminds me of our original SRT system some years ago.

We arrived in the Multi-Media room to find tables set with holiday plates and wonderful homemade wine. I never did find out who made it, but they are to be congratulated on a great vintage. The scent of freshly-baked traditional sweetbread of poppy seeds and candied fruit wafted up from the plates. Yes, the same kind of preserved fruit we find in fruitcake, but this was wonderful.

Soon the students arrived and got situated. They sang and told stories of Christmas. I have learned enough Romanian that I was able to recognize the story of the birth of Jesus. Romanian carols are beautiful with very different haunting quality to them. I found myself humming along. As the program progressed the students shared the speaking parts while effortlessly passing the microphone to each other without all the loud rustling that usually accompanies such hand-offs. They were bathed in the golden glow of dozens of candles.

As they came to the end of the program I could see a gleam in some of the boys' eyes. They sang the last carol with sparklers. Very impressive. As the applause died down, the director handed out excellent cookies to each of the performers. Amazing what you can make a person do for a sweet…

Polish class

2008-03-02T03:56:00.005-05:00

For some reason there are two Polish classes in the school. No one has been able to tell me anything about them other than they exist. For the holidays, they dressed in their native costumes and came to the teacher's work room in the afternoon to perform. These students are ninth graders and perform quite well. The costumes are simply lovely. They sang several Christmas carols to earn a treat from the Director.

An Evening on Toaca Mountain

2008-03-02T00:20:00.002-05:00

The Christmas holidays are especially important for Romanians here in Bucovina. This is a most interesting part of the country. Old and new have melded into a rich co-existence. Many of them return to their hometowns to spend the holidays with friends and family. This group grew up here as classmates and have a very special bond that comes of sharing a classroom for four years and often even longer. These friendships last lifetimes here. This group is home to share the holidays with dear friends and family. There is a couple who is working in Ireland where wages are much higher than here. There is an Italian who proved to be an excellent cook. There are several who work in a nebulous "elsewhere" who did not elaborate. All of these people are making boatloads more money than they can here and so they have left for better pickings. They return every year at the holidays to renew lifelong friendships.

The mountain climbs a little higher from the back of the the captain's cabana. Several people had arrived on snowmobiles. They had a grand time racing to the very tippy top of the mountain in the light of the full moon. We watched the headlights as they weaved through the pine trees and finally came out in to the clearing at the summit. What a thrill! We had to call up for a ride as cars could not negotiate the steep incline, not to mention the road was not more than a deer path at times. We were picked up by a four wheel drive vehicle with a right hand steering wheel. I was not able to take any good pictures. The ones I took, even with the fastest exposure are completely blurred. We bumped our way all the way up there. Maybe in the daylight it would have been more sedate, but this evening, it was a wild ride.

We spent a rousing evening eating and talking and dancing and carousing. Romanians can put away an enormous amount of food. At every meal Romanians eat like lumberjacks and never seem to be full. They are always snacking on whatever is available. At this particular cabana is on the top of Toaca Mountain and for the few hours I was there, three huge meals were served. None of them struck me as traditional Romanian fare, but all of it was wonderful. I watched all of them eat each meal as if it were their last. I have no idea where they put it all.

The cabana is near the top of the central mountain, as viewed from town. It is a lovely chalet finished in knobby pine. I felt like I was in Michigan's northern woods. The front door opens onto a bird's eye view of the city. Two rivers flow through Gura Humorului. Houses and little factories stretch for several kilometers along them. From here the odd village geography is noticeable. Villages I have known in other countries are little groups of houses clustered around a central square with a number of streets intersecting so that no one is far from anyone else. The square is the center of village life with the shops and governmental buildings.

Here it is not that way. Villages grew up along the river banks and travel routes in ribbons. Each house is located next to its neighbor in a long string of opposing houses. This seems to be the way of it throughout Romania. This is the structure of a German village. The houses were built close together in rows with high fence lines so that invading forces could not get to the people. Apparently, the invaders marched through towns but could only fight those foolhardy few in the streets as they could not penetrate the houses and, not knowing how many they would face behind the high, fortified fences, did not venture in. In this manner the invaders passed through, leaving the inhabitants alone. (Why they didn't just march down the back of the houses is beyond me, but then I was not a military strategist in medieval times when these villages were first formed.) The huge Christmas tree in the Centru is a beacon for all.

In towns, the ribbons may be two or three streets deep, but still the general makeup is a three to five mile long ribbon of houses with their gardens and animals stretched out behind. Some of these houses are placed so near to the mountain that the gardens are on a steep incline as they trace their way uphill. Many houses are decorated for the holidays with twinkling lights. From here they look like fairy lights dancing in the moonlight. It is a full moon and there is something magical in the air this evening.

There was music playing the entire evening. Quite an eclectic collection. Traditional Romanian, Hungarian, Irish, and I am not sure of the origins of some of the other traditional pieces. There was lots of modern dance music. Romanians can dance. All of them. It is not like America where only girls dance. This evening it was mostly the men dancing. They knew all the traditional dances – the Serbian circle dance and even the dance of the Russian Cossacks. They whirled and twirled to some Hungarian tunes. I learned the tango as well as a number of Romanian and Hungarian dances this evening. This is not a group hug, but a whirling dervish of a dance that comes from Hungary I think they said. I have seen it several times and so it must be quite popular here.

There was a roaring fire outside for roasting the traditional shish kabobs. I know there is a Romanian word for them but I can never remember it. There is something to be said for the warming effects of twika, as you will notice that only one of us is wearing a coat. Although we were out there for some time and it did not seem cold. I am sure it must have been. Tending the fire was great fun. There is something about a fire that is completely mesmerizing.

This fellow had a whole repertoire of whistles. It seems that for mountain people, this is an excellent way to communicate. There is a whistle for, "I am heading to the left," "I am heading to the right," Wait for me," "Wait there," and any number of other messages. Apparently, there are whistles to indicate danger and all sorts of things. Since that night I have listened to whistles in town and sure enough, they are distinct and each one is very different. I never knew there was a reason for learning to whistle. I had always thought it was just for amusement. And there is whistling that goes with the traditional music. It is shrill and nearly overpowers the music itself. An interesting phenomenon that grows on you now seems perfectly normal.

Christmas holidays

2008-03-01T15:09:00.002-05:00

These are some of my eleventh form students on the last day before the holidays. We walked to town to have a cup of hot chocolate as an end of the year treat.

Chain saw carpentry

2008-03-01T15:03:00.002-05:00

I am always amazed at how the ingenuity of Romanians and how they can put things together out of the meagerest of materials. Construction is an interesting science here. I listened to chain saws for several weeks as they were transforming the second floor from an open attic to four bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms and a large sitting area. Night after night the chain saws buzzed. I can not in my wildest dreams imagine using a chain saw for sawing two-by-fours to fit with any precision, and yet, I hear the buzz of chain saws all over town. It seems to be the tool of choice for housing construction, both rough carpentry and finish carpentry.

For the holidays this year, a tiny city for Santa's elves has been constructed. Most of it is made up of lean-to's, but one of the buildings will apparently become a permanent feature of the park. It is a log cabin type of construction with huge balsa logs snugly forming a cozy little house. This cabin took several days to construct and the chain saw was the only tool in sight. As I look at the completed building, it is difficult to realize that it is so perfect.

Every time there is construction, it seems that the structure is encased in scaffolding, whether it be new construction or remodeling efforts. I do not recall seeing such a thing at home. I can not tell if it is because they are afraid the house will fall apart before they get the plaster on to hold it all together, because as I watch structures going up I am surprised that they stay up. Or whether it is because they don't have ladders and it is easier to build an external catwalk to maneuver around the work area. It is a toss-up.

Christmas Tree

2008-03-01T15:00:00.002-05:00

I went sledding on a mountain on Christmas Eve. It was great fun to feel like a kid again. The greatest thing was looking over at a neighboring mountain and seeing someone bringing home a tree having just cut it from the top of the mountain. A sight we probably would never see in America. (Or maybe I am just from an over-populated area…)

Eternity at Voronet

2008-03-01T14:54:00.003-05:00

I do not usually hang out in graveyards but this one was especially pretty this afternoon.

Christmas Tree Lighting

2008-03-01T01:51:00.007-05:00

Preparations for Saint Nicholas Day have been going on for quite a while. New street decorations have been affixed to all the light poles in town. The sidewalks are being repaved (a personal victory). Lights and decorations are going up all over town in shops and houses. All of a sudden every shop has Christmas decorations, toys, wrapping paper, and lights.

I am ready for an evening of Christmas carols and the official tree lighting. Stefan Hruska will be here to sing the carols. (I have been here long enough that I can say his name with no hesitation.) He is a very popular traditional singer. They have been setting up the stage all afternoon. I spent the afternoon in town as it seemed silly to go home and come back. I wandered through some of the shops and then had dinner in the hotel. It was actually the first time I had been past the lobby. It is really quite nice. Chicken and rice with tea – freshly made and all served at the same time. An eight year old is the Master of Ceremonies for the evening. He is fabulous. He works with no notes, but has managed to memorize pages of script. He has a great sense of his audience, warming them up for Stefan. I am not sure he actually needs the microphone – he speaks very clearly and loud enough for those in the parking lot to hear. He has an excellent command of his words. He knows exactly what he is saying and adds emphasis when it is best and is demure when it suits. I can only imagine what he will be when he grows up.

The street has been blocked off from traffic through the center of town – a wonder in itself – and people are starting to gather. I had planned to meet a few colleagues, but it is impossible to find them in the crowd and my phone is dead. I wander through the groups of people, looking for someone I recognize but these people are mostly brand new to me. It is getting more and more crowded. I had thought I was beginning to know many of the people here, but now there are many I have never seen before. One of my students latches onto me and we spend the evening listening to songs I do not recognize. The population of Gura Humorului is 17,000 and I think every one of them is in town to see the show.

Soon Stefan takes to the stage and is wishing everyone, "Craciun fericit! And La Multi Ans!" He raises his hand to show a remote control. He presses a button and the tree lights up to the sounds of "Ooohhs and Aahhhs!" He is heard above the crowd as he begins his first carol. Everyone settles in for an evening of traditional carols of the season.

People in the crowd are humming along and watching, mesmerized, as Stefan belts out the tunes. I understand enough of the words to know that they are very similar in sentiment to the English carols I know.

Stefan is from Mare Mures which is to the east over the Carpathians. I understand that he returns every Christmas for the lighting of the Christmas tree. He certainly has the audience mesmerized. He is a big man wearing a white fur jacket. His drums are covered in the same white fur. His stage presence is such that he takes over the entire town center. All eyes are turned to him as he sings song after song.

He sings for a very long time. When he takes his last bow, I thought the evening was over but I was wrong. He has offered to sign autographs for those who are interested. My student as well as a number of others starts looking for a pen and paper. The music stops but no one leaves. Now I hear the inimitable sound of fireworks. These guys really know how to throw a party.

The Post Office

2008-02-28T12:05:00.003-05:00

Going to the post office shouldn't be a difficult task. You go in, wait your turn in line, hand the lady your letters, she weighs them and checks the destination, she writes down a number, you pay her that amount, and she hands you the stamps and stickers for your letters. You walk away, put everything on the envelopes and drop them in the slot. How easy is that? In Romania, it is not that easy. First you have to find the post office. The one in my village is hidden behind a huge fence and tall trees. There is no sign that tells you it is a post office until you are right at the door. Even with directions, I had to ask two people where it was while I was standing on the grounds It is not clearly marked at all. Apparently, they do not want you to use it. I approached the door four different times on a day it was supposed to be open when the sign said they were open but there was no sign of life. As I was leaving, someone told me they had just left.

I gave up trying to go to the village post office and decided to go to the one in town. It was larger and at least it appeared to be open. I walked in with my stack of letters. There are four windows with all sorts of notices everywhere. As I don't read Romanian, I asked a lady which line I should stand in. I held out my letters and she pointed to a line. I waited for three other people to take care of their business. Apparently, the post office sells phone cards, is a bank, sends money, takes payments for some utility bills, makes photocopies, sends money via Western Union, and who knows what else they do here ppears that mail is not their prime business. When I finally got to the window the lady was quite nice to me. She took my letters, weighed each one and put stamps and stickers on each one for me to put on. She wrote a number on a piece of paper, I gave her the money, and stepped aside to do the sticking. When I was done I found the box on the wall for deposit, plopped them in and was on my merry way in less than thirty minutes.

This wasn't too painful, although the post office is not in town at all, but is across the river. Remember that pedestrians have less than no rights here. On a snowy, windy day, it is not a pleasant walk, but I must send letters home to Mom or I will not have a home to go home to in June.

I think I can do this without too much aggravation. Alas, that was a slow day at the post office. The next time I went, there were three lines working, sort of. Let's just way there were people forming three lines, but I am not sure anyone was getting anything accomplished. This time I held out my letters again and asked which line I should stand in. A lady indicated the one to the far right. I headed that way but she pushed in front of me, almost knocking me over. I suppose she thought it would take too long for me to take care of what should be a simple task. I waited in line for a half hour and had moved up from number five to number three. Then another woman came in and pushed in front of me again. Apparently, I have a sign on my back that says, "I have no business here, please ignore me." I tapped her on the shoulder and indicated that I was here and she should step behind me. She turned around and began pushing in front of the woman who had already jumped the line. Enough is enough. I left. I have students who are happy to mail my letters for me on their way home from school. It is a shame, but that seems to be the way it is here.

Fulbright Iasi

2008-02-27T12:46:00.004-05:00

We left in the early morning to get to Iasi by train. There was to be a Fulbright seminar there and I wanted to be sure that my students were in attendance. There are some very bright students here in Gura Humorului, as there are most places. They simply do not think they have the opportunities here. My mission is to show them what they can do if they really want to. It is not easy. It is a lot of meticulous form filling out. It is choosing the right fit from over five thousand universities. It is taking the time to assemble the "Application Package." It is daunting, but certainly do-able.

I have about twenty-five students who can do this if they want to. They have the time as they are sophomores and juniors. They have the brains as evidenced by their transcript. Even though cheating is a way of life here, it is not hard to tell which ones are really doing the work and which ones are copying. My greatest task is to convince them to discard their negative Romanian Attitude and take on a can-do attitude. So often I ask them what they want to be when they graduate and they have no idea. There are very few jobs here in Southern Bucovina, but I tell them that is not a reason to stop trying for the moon. The jobs will come or they will go to the jobs. They already think they will have to go to Italy or France as it is. With a little foresight and planning, they can go anywhere.

Fulbright has a program that can take them to America for their university studies if they are willing to put in the legwork, study for the tests, and put together the Package. There is a lot to do, but it is certainly do-able in the two year span they have to begin collecting and honing their skills.

Students here have a strange attitude. They are already beaten before they get out of the box. When something goes wrong, they say, "It' Romania," and give up. I tell them to try again. This seems to be a new concept for them. The idea that one failure does not a failed person make is very foreign to them.

And so I accompanied them to Iasi because I was afraid they would back out at the last minute and not go. They are excellent at making excuses. When we arrived they waited outside. I had to go first. I am sure they would not have left the doorstep if I had not led them in. We spent a few hours learning what was available to them. I am certain that some of them will make an effort. Later in the week, I brought a few more to Suceava for a condensed version. I know they have the abilities – just not the courage.

They had great questions and took away scads of materials to read. I know some of them read from the questions they asked later. They took in so much of what was offered. All too soon the clock struck and we had to leave just like Cinderella. I have promised each one of them that when they come to America, they can have Thanksgiving at my house. There has to be something familiar for them.

Thanksgiving in Bucuresti

2008-02-23T10:14:00.002-05:00

It is interesting what we get used to and what we can live without. I am not a fan of turkey, although I love the stuffing and cranberry sauce. I did rather miss all the planning and baking. I enjoy cooking when there is someone to cook for. It is not any fun to cook for one and so I don't as a rule. We were supposed to bring something with us for the dinner. I offered to make pumpkin pie as mine always gets rave reviews. How hard can that be?

First I had to get the pie pans which really don't exist here. I finally bought two round glass dishes with 90 degree rather than 45 degree sides. Not exactly pie pans but they will do. Then I started looking for the ingredients. You would think I was looking for gold. First, I found cinnamon and whole cloves. Those were the only spices I could find. I tried to find ginger and nutmeg. I looked in all the local shops and asked for these items. No success. Then I went to Suceava to look in the bigger stores. I couldn't find anything anywhere.

In the meantime, I was working on getting the pumpkin. There are several kinds of pumpkins. The orange pumpkins that we use for pies are only used for jack-o-lanterns here. I tried to get one to make pies but was told it was pig food. Everyone made a face and shook their heads and adamantly refused to help me get a pumpkin. They use a white, oval-shaped pumpkin to make pies with. I have not tasted one as yet, but I really want an American pumpkin pie. I actually considered jumping the fence to get a pumpkin but that seemed very undignified and I can't imagine stealing a pumpkin from someone's field. I have offered to buy one but they refuse to sell me one.

Finally, I got a pumpkin, but still no spices. There are plenty of spices for meats and soups, but very little to be had in the baking department. I finally resorted to a bottle of wonderful wine from this area. Someone else had better luck with the pumpkin pie. Apparently, they were privy to the American grocery store in the American Embassy. If only I had thought of that. I will ask my kids to bring me what I need at Christmas and then I will make a pie.

In the meantime, Bucharest is getting ready for the holiday season. This is a Romanian mall. It is a huge building with lots of little shops inside. It is a frustrating experience to shop here. There are five floors. The top floor seems to be dedicated to appliances and electronics, a floor I can disregard. The escalator is in the center of each floor and the shops are arranged around it in a huge oval. The escalator forces you to walk halfway around to go up again. Many of the shops have the same sort of things, but you have to look at each one to see what is there. There are no maps that say where anything is and so you are on your own with only the escalator to keep you grounded. I think I will be saving a lot of money her in Romania because there does not seem very much to spend it on which is not all bad.

Dinner was fabulous as it turned out. It is so nice to see people who understand what you are saying the first time you say it. I am always happy to spend a few days with the other Fulbrighters in Romania. It is a breath of fresh air. There was plenty to eat and we made short work of it all. I doubt there were many leftovers to send home. No turkey sandwiches for the big football bowl games. I wonder if they are even broadcast over here?

Most of us had no real agenda after dinner and so we went – you guessed it – out to eat. Are we Americans, or what? We found ourselves at a wonderful little Mexican restaurant somewhere in Bucharest.

Fulbright Interview

2008-02-23T09:11:00.002-05:00

Another midnight train trip to Bucharest. Another night of flashing towns and train stations. I am getting only too familiar with this city. Two teachers from my school have applied for the Teacher Exchange Program and so we have come down on the train for the day. It is a cold day and yet full of hope for the two of them. We stop at a café for breakfast and to wait until the right time to arrive at the Commission. I have been in my share of cafes but this one was unique. There were two seating areas – one in front by the window so that we could watch people on their way to wherever they are going on an early Friday morning. A typical café. To get to the restrooms, it is necessary to walk through a car showroom. Apparently, the other café seating area doubles as the waiting room for the car salesmen. I have spent more time watching the morning commute than I might otherwise as I wait for them both to emerge from the bathroom. It is certainly necessary to wash off any night train aura they may still have.

They are both terribly nervous. They will be fine as they have both prepped for the interview. The hardest thing is really the application. It asks so many questions in just a little different way. It is long and requires much research to fill in the required blanks on the form. So many attachments but once it is done, the worst is over. Then it is the waiting. They have known about this interview for about two weeks and have asked me so many questions about it. Unfortunately, I can not help them beyond the generic response which is, of course, not what they are looking for.

Finally, they are ready to face their interviewers and we head for the Comission on foot. I actually know exactly where we are going I have made this trip so many times. We walk by the home of Ge Ge the soccer king and take their picture. It is one for posterity. I am sure that I am probably in the minority as I have no idea who this is.

It is a fine day today. Blustery and cold, but clear. The leaves have fallen and winter has definitely taken the reins from autumn. Soon the snow will be flying and it will be Christmas in this city. We walk past some of huge manses. I think they must be university and embassy housing and buildings. They are really impressive. It looks like there is a helicopter pad on top of one of them. Finally, we arrive. I take their rucksacks and introduce them. They head in, ready for bear.

I leave them for a bit and wander back to the boulevard. I have found a new toy on my camera. The path looks like a wonderful autumn day when I am done playing with the color. Check out the before and after…

Finally, we have lunch and it is over. We have hours before the train leaves and so we head to the mall. Check out the wine aisle! There are all sorts of choices. Too bad I can't carry too much on the train.

We have dinner at a quaint little Italian restaurant near Piata Romana and then head back to the Metro. It is a warren of lines going here and there. I watch as a train disgorges its passengers while others wait to squash into the cramped areas. It is a wonder that everyone gets where they are headed.

Now we are headed back to the train station for a long trip home. Another night train.

Winter has arrived

2008-02-23T07:25:00.002-05:00

It has snowed nearly every day now. Not a lot of snow, but just enough to keep the landscape white and the roads slippery. They have slowed down a bit and they don't pass quite as readily, but I still think they go too fast. The roads are completely ice-covered and yet drivers get right on each other's bumpers with no regard for anyone else. You walk on the roads at your own risk – and that risk is mighty high in the winter when there is no berm and it is dark so much of the time. I doubt most drivers can even see pedestrians when we are walking to the bus or waiting for it. It is interesting to see how people cope with it. THere are aplways people with umbrellas and now I see they are good for all four seasons. I even saw a gentleman riding a bicycle to town in a very nice suit, weilding his umbrella against the snowflakes as they pummeled him.

And yet, it is still a cozy little mountain town where nothing much really happens during the winter. I do make it a point to stop into my favorite restaurant in the Centru of town. They have the most delightful hot chocolate and they don't mind if you sit forever and just talk. And later in the day it is a marvelous little tavern. There is a big screen similar to an American sports bar, except there is only soccer on the screen and I have little interest in it. If it was American football, I might even watch. This is some sort of rum and brown sugar concoction. It is certainly festive.

Chichifoi

2008-02-23T07:13:00.003-05:00

Many of the students I speak to say they are looking for a way out of Romania. Some of my students have parents who are working abroad, mostly notably in Italy and Spain, who send money home. There is little possibility for a position in this area of the country, as there is little industry, only farming and tourism. It seems that most of the tourist Euros go to other countries. It doesn't appear that they stay here as many of the busses that pass through do not have Romanian license plates. There are certainly a few hotels and restaurants that are getting the tourist trade and many bed and breakfasts, or pensiunes as they are called here, offer accommodations. There are few places for tourists to spend their money though as one looks around the town. A few restaurants and two nice bars in walking distance of the centru, otherwise, it is a bleak. There are no shops or cute little places for the tourist to walk to. It is not a town that lends itself to browsing.

I find that I am working with a few students who are interested in going to American universities. One of the outreach programs for the Fulbright Commission is to help students do just this. They have a program in place to help high school students work through the process. It is a tedious process and takes time to put all the pieces together, but it can be done. There are Fulbright people in-country who are here specifically to help high school students get through this process.

One such student I met in Bucharest on my first visit to the Comision. You may remember her picture earlier in my blog. Diana is an excellent student with perfect grades. She is active in a variety of community service organizations and is published in a Romanian Psychology magazine. She writes a monthly column for this magazine also. Certainly a student worthy of an American university education. She has taken the TOEFL and the SAT and finally was completing her applications to several American universities. I spent a few evenings with her making sure all her paperwork was in order and that her translations were adequate for her purpose. I was happy to help her although I must say that her mother's excellent desserts did sweeten the bargain for me.

We even found an American on his way back to the States who took her applications and mailed them from the States for her so that they made it to the universities on time and did not get bogged down in the trans-Atlantic mail shuffle. Now we wait. One of the universities has asked for her semester grades and she should hear something by March. Another reason to hurry spring.

Currently on hiatus

2008-01-24T08:46:00.000-05:00

I notice that some of you are faithfully checking in periodically. I must apologize that I have moved into town and am living with a very slow internet connection. I will be in Bucharest next week and will post the ten or so stories I have ready then. I appreciate your patience. S

Presentation at the Bi-lingual high school in Bucharest

2007-12-17T00:18:00.001-05:00

I arrived a bit early for Thanksgiving and was able to accompany Kymber, another Fulbrighter, to the Bi-lingual high school in Bucharest. I met the director a few weeks ago the RATE conference in Timisoara. It certainly is a small world. She was looking for an English teacher at the time and wondered if I knew anyone interested.

Darkening a room in Romania is an interesting procedure. In this room the shades are a salmon color and so most of the images have a salmon tint to them. I have not figured out how to untint them as yet. We spoke with two groups – the underclassmen and the upperclassmen. It was an interesting afternoon. Both groups were interested but there were so many of them, it was hard to say if they will consider coming to America for their university studies.

I enjoyed seeing another high school in action. These kids are much more serious about their future than most of their counterparts in Gura Humorului. There is a group of students in GH that are very serious, but on the whole, the students' ambitions do not run high. I have seniors who have no idea what they want to do after graduation. Although I do think that our system of starting career training in the elementary school is a bit much, it is also obvious that there is little if any direction given to students regarding a realistic future for them. Most of them are without real purpose in their education. There are certainly fewer opportunities for my students in this rural region, but even so, they seem to be simply enjoying high school. My students are a wonderful group and have a delightful camaraderie amongst their classmates.

These students have heard presentations from several British and other western European universities. These are some of the best that Romania has to offer and many schools are interested in them.

It has been snowing all week

2007-12-16T07:58:00.001-05:00

Every single day this week, it has snowed. Big, white, fluffy snowflakes keep floating down from above. I have actually been enjoying it this year. Maybe it has something to do with not having to drive in it. I did get an international drivers license in case I needed it, but I have no intention of using it if I can avoid it. I am actually enjoying the snow this year, even though I have to walk what I imagine to be great distances in it. This morning I woke at three to a soft soughing at my window. When I looked to see what it was, I was greeted with this delightful image. The snow had made ghosts of the apple trees in the back yard.

In the morning the snow was frozen to the tree branches. I am not sure if it was actually frozen or simply balanced ever so delicately. It was a light snow and so it just stayed there on the branches. It sparkled in the morning sun. I actually enjoyed waiting for the bus to take me to school.

It is always interesting to watch the traffic go by as I wait. This morning there were several gentlemen on bicycles on their way out for the morning. They are usually rather well dressed as they cycle their way to their destination.

Along comes a stack truck laden with logs for the lumber mills. He careens around the bend as if his life depended on it. I can only imagine what would happen if it went end-for-end. Logs would be flying everywhere. As it is he is taking up most of the road. It is scary being a pedestrian here, although no one ever seems to get hurt.

And, of course, the horse and carts. They are out in force today. They seem quite happy to be prancing down the road in the frosty air. Steam rushes from their nostrils as they breathe. This one looks especially sprightly as he clatters down the road. The winter shoes have studs on them similar to those on snow tires (for those of us who remember them). He trots down the road with his tassels and mane swinging back and forth to the rhythm of his trot. The bus takes us down the road that follows the Humor River. It is very low this time of year, but they say it will be another thing entirely in the spring when the snow melts in the mountains.

When we get into town, this coat takes my eye. It is quite elegant. Many of the ladies here wear fur coats, the real thing, because they keep you very warm. This one is exceptionally stunning.

All too soon it is time to go to class. I shall be thinking of after school when I can enjoy the snow again.

A Snowy Day

2007-12-16T06:53:00.000-05:00

It is a snowy, snowy day. A day to stay at home and watch the snow from the window with a cup of hot chocolate in hand. But I am going to Suceava again. I am amazed at the tanacity of the people here. This is the main thoroughfare between the two towns. The black and yellow paint on the guard rails indicates it is dangerous here. I am in a hitch-mobile. It is not really warm, but I am out of the elements and traveling at a pretty fast clip. As we round this curve, there is a lady walking along the shoulder with her purchases in hand. The cart is laden with goods from the market. We are passing a slower car and there is a semi further ahead around the bend. I am first surprised that we are all alive, and second that this is a commonplace sight. It is not unusual to see people walking, carts and horses, cars, minibuses, trucks and huge touring buses - all on the same road passing each other as if it is the thing to do. Back home, they would all be arrested for reckless driving and endangering the lives of the passengers.

Dedication of the Refurbished Canteen

2007-12-15T08:04:00.001-05:00

On another note, teachers' meetings have taken a turn for the more interesting. In the past two weeks there have been two saint's days which were more cocktail party than anything I would have imagined. Apparently, Saints Michael and Gabriel are the patron saints of Gura Humorului. These saints have a lot of pull in Europe. There is an interesting Name Day tradition that if you are named for a saint, then you celebrate your "name day" on the saint's day. It is like having an extra birthday. Nothing is left uncelebrated here in Eastern Europe. It is wonderful to be able to look on the bright side of life. I just wish I knew when these things were coming so I would be prepared. Or maybe less prepared is a better way to put it. I am ready for class and then there is no class to be ready for. In their honor, school is unofficially dismissed at 11 in the morning and a huge spread is laid out for the staff. The announcements are written in chalk in the Teacher's Room in each building for everyone to see and take note of. Unfortunately, I can only read English, not Romanian. I ask every week if there is something I should know about and usually they say no. And so I seldom know about these other events so I am usually caught off-guard.

Tuesday, there was a mandatory staff meeting for the dedication of the refurbished canteen. Initially the staff was herded into the Teacher's Work room. We waited until we were told to report to the canteen and so we went. When we arrived, it was absolutely lovely. There were table decorations everywhere. When we were finally assembled, the priests set about blessing the building, the kitchens, and the staff by name. There were the two staff priests who teach religion and a cantor I did not recognize. This was a very elaborate ceremony, involving the blessing of the building with holy water splashed around on a lavender twig. Candles were lit and bread was given to each table representing the north, south, east, and west sides of the building. This dedication involves much singing and chanting, candles and incense, genuflecting and blessings. We faced east for part of the service. It was really quite elaborate, but interesting.

Finally, the canteen was blessed. Then we turned to the delicious hors d'oevres and wines on the table. There was regional blueberry wine, an excellent Romanian wine, twika, and I lost track what else. All very good. I tasted each one to be sure. The Romanian wine was especially good. My glass was kept full as the dinner arrived. Wonderful roast pork and vegetables. Then dessert. Can you imagine that I could not finish it because I simply had no room for it!! This was a splendid affair.

Throughout dinner there was a three piece band playing traditional music. Each of the band members had graduated from Alexandru cel Bun and so it was old home week for them. They really were quite good. As the dinner dishes were cleared away the Director took to the dance floor and started the evening's festivities. We danced the rest of the night away.

And then we all had 8 o'clock classes in the morning. I am getting to thoroughly enjoy this Romanian system of education.

Chilean Street Concert

2007-12-09T05:26:00.001-05:00

On Saturday afternoon after an excellent turkey dinner, a few of us decided to go shopping. Need I mention that I have not seen a real store in months? We headed out in a group to the mall. It was a great idea. Ross and I found some excellent pictures and so straggled from the group. We dawdled through Unirii Piata checking out the Christmas decorations and lights. The buildings here are so huge. It is not that they are skyscrapers like in New York City. There are fifteen or twenty stories high so it is not the height so mush as the length of them that is surprising. Atop every inch of these behemoths is neon advertising. It is quite a sight to behold.

An immense Christmas tree is going up in the park in the center of the Piata. The top is missing, but otherwise, it is nearly complete. I can only imagine what it will look like when it is lit up. Across the Piata is one of the malls. I am almost there. We are supposed to cross over and catch bus number 123 or 124 to the big mall.

Twilight is waning and it is becoming dark. The lights twinkle above. It is a wonderful place tonight. We are mesmerized by the lights. We continue across the piata through the park. Music filters through the sounds of the cars and buses in the round-about. It is a street band or a concert in the Piata and it sounds interesting. IT is not rock music or classical music, but something more haunting. Finally, across the very busy round-about are lights and a large crowd. That must be the band. We head that way to take a look ourselves. We are just in time for them to take a break. We hear the last strands of their music die away as we get there. There are three band members with enough musical instruments to outfit a high school band.
There are dressed in buckskin from head to foot. They have buckskin shoes with crepe soles to keep their feet warm. I have no doubt that in the summer they wear moccasins, but in the freezing temperatures, it is impossible. They have buckskin pants, buckskin shirts, and buckskin over-tunics. Their faces are a ruddy brown with three parallel black stripes running diagonally from the center of their foreheads to their right ears, as if they have been swiped by a bear and lived to tell the story. Their hair is thick and black, held back with a wide red headband. One of them is wearing a war bonnet. I am not sure what the significance for that is here, and maybe there is none.

We stop to talk to one of them while they are taking a break. It turns out that they are Chilean and the costumes are authentic. I did not know that any South Americans had war bonnets. Close up, it is easy to see that he probably is from Chile from his bone structure. It is a bit different than our own Native Americans. He tells us that the music is traditional Chilean. We walk over to look at the array of instruments. I do not recognize all of them. Many of them are percussion and wind instruments. Flutes and pipes of all different sorts and sizes. It seems that the break is taking an awfully long time. I really want to hear them again as they sounded rather good from across the Piata.

Finally, they begin to plug in the portable generators, two of them. The lights illuminate their corner of the square. Soon the haunting melody of a single flute begins to drift through the crowd. The fog machine starts to bellow out smoke and the concert begins. Now it is apparent now that the music is essentially a recorded synthesizer that they use to accent with their various instruments. I have waited forty-five minutes to hear an enhanced recording. They have three cds that the Indian with the war bonnet is hawking to the crowd that has gathered. One is called Mohawk, one The Great One, and the last one Apache. They are Chilean, remember. The cds were published in Poland – interesting. There is an admonition on the back cautioning against copying, sending the files over the internet, unlawful sharing, unlawful hearing of the music. Apparently, I can buy the cd, but I cannot let you listen to it at my house unless you pay for your own copy.

Each one of them has a talent. The one in the war bonnet is a gifted salesman. One of them plays a mean flute. The last one has been watching the Discovery channel as he has the dancing down to a T.

They are obviously making money as they have two generators, a fog machine, lights and amplifiers, and a whole host of instruments. Their costumes cost them a pretty penny. Apparently, everyone is paying attention to the warning about unlawful hearing.

Gaudeamus International Book Fair

2007-12-09T03:27:00.001-05:00

It has been interesting to me what there is and isn't in Romania. I have found a dearth of English reading matter. I brought boxes of books over with me, mostly for teaching, but a few to read. It is a good thing as I have only been able to find one book in English in Suceava and a shelf of them, mostly classics I have already read, in Timisoara, but I hit paydirt in Bucharest at the Book Fair. There are not just books, but dealers with whole walls of books in English. Recent books in English. Two I actually have on my "to Read" list! I had such a wonderful time there on Friday that I went back on Saturday for more.

On the way to Gaudeamus there was a musician playing a classical piece as we rode the Metro. I am getting better and better at finding my way on the subway system. It is always so interesting what you find.

You have to love a country where the Minister of Culture and the Minister of Education come to the Book Fair to welcome the booksellers and the public. I am not sure there are many other places where reading and philosophical discussions are so celebratedAs I wandered about the stalls, I found that there were hundreds of books in English. There were gazillions of books about philosophy which is heartening to see. One thing they have right here is that the students are taught to think about the decisions they make. Authors are celebrated and thinkers are listened to. What a unique way to behave as a country.

The Book Fair is held in what looks like a huge arena, but is apparently, the Exposition Centre. They are rebuilding the main drive and so an alternate entrance has been arranged. As we walk to the building I have the feeling we are headed to a spaceship and that we will soon be transported to another planet. I guess the world of books really is another planet, so it is well situated here.

On Saturday morning, I noticed traffic was exceptionally awful this morning. This motorcade passed as we walked. Offhandedly, I wondered aloud if it was the President going to Gaudeamus. Turns out, it WAS doing just that. It seems that I was walking to the Exposition Centre at the same time as the President was arriving. He spoke for quite a while. I imagine he was talking about great books he has read and how reading is good for you. I was not able to follow much of what he said and there was no one to translate. I was able to get within arm's reach of him which I found interesting. Certainly would not have happened in America. He looked like he had just left his overstuffed chair in the library. A casual man today.

There are thousands of people here at the book exposition. Browsing is not really the word for it. It is pretty much push-and-shove to get from booth to booth. It is certainly wonderful to see so many interested in books. People are carrying sacks and sacks of books away with them. I am looking for a book written by a Romanian that is currently on the New York Times Best Seller list. The language barrier makes it interesting. I have been directed to all sorts of displays, none of which have the book I want. Finally, I find it, newly translated in Romanian. I was actually looking for the English version. The author is working at building a bridge between America and Romania through her writing. There are now four books published in this YA series. The latest is Vampirii Sudului, Vampire Witch in English, a rather odd translation. I have finally found a copy and it is a good read so far.

I had expected to find the classics as I have found in the bookstores, but there are best-sellers too. I had planned to go home lighter than I had arrived. I see that is not going to happen. As it turned out, I broke the zipper on my suitcase trying to cram too much in it. I have Bill Bryson's latest and an interesting series of essays about Romanians titled, Us Against Ourselves among others. I will have plenty to read over the winter.

I found a lovely book of photographic images of Romania by George Avanu. The artist was there and he smiled for the camera. His pictures really capture the flavor of the country. I am sure it will be on my coffee table when I return for some time.

I thoroughly enjoyed spending the day surrounded by the smell of new books and readers of all sorts. Somehow the day slipped away and it was twilight when I began my walk back to the hotel. It is late and I have managed to fill my backpack with some excellent reads for the long winter months. The moon shines through the trees on this early autumn evening while thousands of Romanians rush home in their cars. It seems that there are two million people in Bucharest and one million cars. I don't think we are even that bad in America. Mostly the cars sit. I had been on a bus but when it took 45 minutes to go three city blocks, I decided that I could get there sooner if I walk. It was a warm day and so the fog is settling in for the evening.

Snowball Snow

2007-12-06T13:02:00.001-05:00

Today it snowed again. Big, fluffy snowflake snow. Snowman snow, but there isn't enough of it to build a whole snowman yet. The streets are not plowed.

On the way from one bulding to another I ran across this gentleman. What a fabulous outfit. He is wearing traditional clothing for the mountain area. I don't know that I have ever seen someone dressed as he is in town. In the villages, yes, but never in town.

It is definitely boot weather. I have new shoes still in the box and it is boot weather. The road is very icy although I have not seen an accident yet. Probably because it is still early for folks to be up and about. The little ladies at School Number Two were out early this morning. They swept the sidewalk from the street to the building before we arrived. They are so sweet. They don't speak any English but they always smile and say, "Buna Ziua," when I come in. They open the doors for me if they are still locked. They always smile.

Today I noticed that the Lions Restaurant is a mirror image of the house across the alley from it. Amazing what a little paint can do to completely change the image of a house. I understand that they are Jewish houses. Several people have pointed that out to me. It is interesting that once you know what to look for, it is quite obvious. Apparently, the Jews who once lived here built single story houses, but very tall buildings. I wonder what the story is here.

Ben’s cousins

2007-12-05T05:46:00.001-05:00

It is amazing how small the world really can be. I forget who started the whole six persons removed plan, but it certainly works. Here I am, about as remote as you can get in Romania, and it seems that one of my students in America has cousins and family here. In fact, they are only on the other side of the mountain in Suceava. I finally was able to get in touch with them and we managed to meet after one of my infamous trips to Suceava for my Legitimate which I still don't have. After I had concluded my discussions with the police again, I called Anca who lives in Suceava. Her sister Alina actually met me and we met Anca at a lovely Italian restaurant in town. They had excellent desserts!! We all know how that cheers me. We talked for quite a while. I have made it my mission to help as many Romanians as I can to improve their English as my Romanian is still not conversational as yet. I can get essential directions and order from the menu, but I am not able to actually put enough words together to make a sentence.

After a delightful dessert and conversation, we went to their parents' home. They live right near the only place I know to buy really good ice cream. That is a good sign. Of course, we started with homemade blueberry wine and then another excellent wine. They own a grocery store and so dinner was excellent. Typical Romanian breads and salamis and vegetables and cheeses. Delicious. I couldn't have asked for anything better. While we were there, Anca's husband and son arrived on the scene. The little one stole the scene. He has such bright eyes – he is going to be a smart one. Her husband is a traditional dancer and has promised to invite me to watch the next time his group is dancing nearby. Anca is in school in Cluj but gets home every few weeks. They are a great group – full of life and fun. Her father is from Moldovita and has offered to take me there to see the monastery in the spring. I am looking forward to that trip.

In the meantime, I have a student in class who is the spitting image of Ben, my American student. Interestingly, my Romanian student is also named Ben. What a small world.

Halloween

2007-12-02T16:05:00.001-05:00

All the kids have costumes. There are mostly high school students, but there are also some younger siblings who are welcomed to the festivities. There do not appear to be any chaperones. Several of us teachers have arrived as we were invited and it sounded like fun. These kids don’t appear to do stupid things and are capable of making intelligent decisions. I am not sure why this is. It may be that it is a small, isolated community and peer pressure to behave is very strong.

They are all in costume and it is hard to tell who they all are. Some have come in traditional costumes of sorts. Some are dressed as ghosts and ghouls. Some are dressed as cats and clowns. Some arrive in evening gowns while others wear rags. Cross-dressers and gypsies. Even Santa made an appearance. It is quite an amalgamation. The MC for the evening has a fabulous set of tails with a striped shirt to set it off. He has spent some time making his face look pretty scary.

As the evening moves along, there is a pumpkin carving contest. I have been asked to be a judge. It is really difficult to decide. One little boy has made an excellent jack-o-lantern. It even has long strands of twine for hair. It wins first place. There is dancing and vamping for their friends. Finally, it is time to leave before the last maxitaxi leaves. These kids have had a wonderful evening and so did I.

Botosan Theate Group

2007-12-02T16:03:00.004-05:00

A theatre group came from Botosan to perform an excellent little play called Zapezile de Altadaya. Two actors played the parts of a couple who grew from young lovers to a more mature, married couple who had become complacent with each other. The woman felt she was not being appreciated and tried a variety of ploys to get her man to be more demonstrative toward her to no avail. She even went to the trouble of having her mother call at an opportune time so that she could pretend it was another man. Her husband replied that he “must be another man who is not sleeping” and rolled over for a snooze. She has a fit at one point and completely trashes the apartment. One of the interesting scenes occurred shortly after when they had made up and were sleeping. They held the mattress upright against the back wall and leaned into it as if they were sleeping. He managed an excellent slump that exuded pure comfort while standing on three toes. They fought, although he was resigned to his fate and did not fight back. She threatened to leave several times and threw him out several other times. She could not seem to come to terms with the simple comfort he offered, but wanted more passion in their relationship. She was sure he did not love her. Finally he had had enough and then he threw a fit. The closing scene they kiss and make up.

Not bad for someone who does not speak the language. I am sure that I missed a few of the nuances. A few times the audience laughed and I had no idea why, but all in all, I understood what was happening.

Many students were at the play this afternoon. The English Department was out in force. At the conclusion, including a standing ovation, several of us found our way to a little bar outside the Casa de Cultura and had a Campari. It was the weakest thing they had. They said it was brandy. I don’t remember it as a brandy but then maybe I forget. When it arrived I found that I was not wrong – it is close to straight alcohol! We sat for a while in the bar. There does not seem to be any heat here and it is open to the elements at the other end. Although we could not see our breath as we sat there, we might have without the Campari.

Later, several of us went to Botosan to see Romeo and Juliet performed by the same company. They were excellent. The building stands in honor of the Romanian playright Eminescu. The little troupe is quite good. The stage was Shakespearean in that there was no scenery to speak of. Six blocks that moved all over the stage in gepmetrical figuartions.

Autumn Trees on the Mountain

2007-12-02T15:11:00.001-05:00

The autumn trees in Michigan are one of my favorite parts of Michigan. The colors are so brilliant in golds and yellows and scarlets. There is a stretch of I75 just north of Flint that is striking when the sun hits it on an autumn day late in the afternoon. The trees in the median are simply amazing.

It is hard to imagine a prettier sight, but I have found a runner-up. The Austrians occupied this part of Romania and called it Bucovina which translates to mean "Land of Linden Trees." Most of the houses and out buildings were built from wood with many of them still standing today. I do see, though, that the new houses which are going up are all cinder block construction. A two inch layer of Styrofoam is next and then plaster for a stucco effect which is painted in subtle pastel colors. It makes for a lovely countryside.

Today I followed the Humor River through the valley. I walked past three mountains before I decided it was time to head back for hot chocolate. Looking up the sides of the mountains, you can see each individual farmer's field. This time of year, they are busy harvesting. There are fields that have been cleared and plowed under. There are fields that are still waiting to be harvested. There are fields with sheep grazing. Quite a sight. It looks exactly like my history text in high school.

I am very clearly living in a place out of time with the rest of the world. It is certainly charming. I tell my students, many of whom still live and work on these farms, that I would not survive if I had to do what they do on a daily basis. I don't have the stamina to keep up with them. (And this is AFTER I have lost twenty-two pounds) Many houses here still get water from a well with a bucket on a rope. I have been to some were there is no electricity. The quaint ceramic wood stoves in every room of some houses are very efficient and heat well. I can say that from experience. While they are constructing more rooms upstairs, there were days when the heat was turned off so they could add the new rooms. My woodstove keot my room toasty. I didn't even notice the big windows being taken out and replaced.

Legitimati, part three

2007-11-17T07:44:00.001-05:00

I still don't have my Legitimati. When I left the police station last month and they told me to return in thirty days to pick up my temporary ID card, I had a feeling that there would be another chapter and there is.

The day I was to leave for Timisoara, Daniela received an urgent phone call from the young policeman asking that I return to Suceava immediately with proof that I had this new European Union insurance. She seemed to think that I should cancel my trip to rush over there. I told him that I was leaving for a few days and would go to Suceava when I returned.

Apparently, there is a new law in Romania, and now I must purchase Romanian health insurance to obtain this card. They say this is because the EU does not recognize American insurance. I think it is because it is a way to get more money from us. I have Blue Cross/Blue Shield insurance through the school. I understand it is in the top ten policies I in America. Then we have a second local policy that covers what Blue Cross doesn't. I only need to have the bills translated into English for them to be paid by my own insurance. Then I have Fulbright insurance on top of that to cover things like emergency evacuation for medical purposes. I think I have all my bases covered.

Consider this scenario. I catch a disease here or I get seriously injured in some manner, say I trip on the non-existent sidewalk, fall into the roadway and get run over by a vehicle or two while I try to get out of the road. What if the maxitaxi should burst at the seams and spew us riders out into the street? Several vehicles, both motor-driven and horse-drawn, will have run us over before anyone realizes what has happened. There would be mangled bodies everywhere. Some would be on the pavement, while others would be hood ornaments as drivers tailgate so close that there would be no room to fall to the ground.

I went to the local insurance company to purchase this new insurance. It seems it is so new that they do not have the forms yet, but the lady assured me that I could return on Friday and that she would have them. When I returned, she did have them and so 110. lei lighter, I had the necessary form.

Now back to Suceava…

Wednesday seemed like a good day to go back to try again. I went to the hitchhike station for Suceava. There were four drivers ready to take me but, of course, they needed four passengers, not one. I waited and waited. It was snowing and cold and getting later. After a half hour, I asked them if one of them would take me if I paid for all four seats and he took me to the police station. It took awhile before they understood that I would pay for all four seats. Finally one of them agreed and off we went. It actually wasn't as scary a ride as usual. He dropped me off in front of the police station and in I marched, back to the second floor, and waited. No one acknowledged that I was there. No one seemed to be in line. It was student visa day. Apparently, I pass for a student. I waited for a while. The people in the various offices rush from one office to another with sheaves of paper in their hands. They always close the doors behind them. I asked a passing woman if I was waiting at the right office and she pointed at the door and so I resumed my position of leaning on the railing where whoever goes in or out has to pass me.

There was a Moldavian student in the Office for Foreigners. He was seated on the hard backed chair that serves as perch for the official photo. He sits there and continues to answer questions. Every once in a while they ask him a question and he just sits there with no response. There seems to be an issue with his visa. He is a divinity student trying to get a student visa. He is missing some piece of paper. Rather than simply telling him that he needs to get it, they keep him in the hot seat for two hours with no resolution in sight. When I arrived he was in there. People come in and go out and he sits there. They will not let him leave. I have been waiting for over two hours now.

Finally, after watching the same man walk back and forth a dozen times, I dug out the insurance form and approached him. "You called me to say I needed to bring this insurance form."

He had a sheaf of papers in his hand. He indicated that he needed to take care of them. He had his key ring out but did not have one to fit the door. He walked to another office, borrowed the key from someone, returned, opened the door, put the papers on the desk, locked the door, returned the key, then came back to take my paperwork. We walked into his office. IT is only five feet from the one I have been waiting in front of. I am sure that he saw me standing there during his several trips back and forth to other offices. He took my certificate and examined it closely. It passed muster. I asked if it was what he needed and he nodded that I had managed to jump through all the hurdles he had laid out for me. Now he asked for the photocopy of the certificate. I did not bring that. I brought the original. I tell him to "take the original as I will not be needing it." The truth of the matter is that my Blue Cross/ Blue Shield is better than anything his government has to offer. And then there is the second policy the school carries which covers anything Blue Cross/ Blue Shield. And then there is the Fulbright insurance which will medivac me to an American hospital if need be. So why do I have this Romanian health insurance??

He insists that I must give him a photocopy. I do not have one and there is no place for me to get one nearby. I know he knows this as he looks outside and realizes that I am not going to be able to do this. He makes the decision to make the photocopy himself. He takes the certificate to another office. Soon he is back with his keys. He takes a sheet of white paper from a locked drawer and leaves again. About five minutes later, he returns with a copy of the certificate and returns the original to me.

I ask if there is anything else he needs and he indicates that it is all in order. I thought about asking what to do next, but decide that I will leave while I am ahead. He will call if he needs something else and he will call or mail the legitimati if it ever is ready. We shall see.

The Shoes Arrive

2007-11-17T00:28:00.001-05:00

I have stooped to buying American. Well, actually, they were made in China, so I guess that stopping in the US is ok. The shoes finally arrived at K's. She said, "They are en route. Some little goodies are packed in the boxes too. Your shoes are cute!" She sent them two weeks ago. I watched every day for them and finally they have arrived. I got a tiny slip in the mail that said I could go pick them up. It was crumpled and could easily have been mistaken for trash. It certainly does not look important.

Now I must go to Suceava tomorrow between the hours of 8 and noon to pick up the box or they would return it to sender. Apparently, Romanians are willing to drop everything at the drop of a hat to comply with these ridiculous requests. I teach until 11 and so decided that I could still make the 45 minute trip in the hitch-hike car and get down the street to the post office in time with Ross' help. He is a Peace Corps Volunteer whose room I have usurped. He hails from Seattle, but has been traveling through Europe since June. He will return to the States for Christmas and then he will "have to get a real job," as he puts it. In the meantime, it is nice for me that he is here and knows how things are done.

We meet at the official corner and head into Suceava. This time we manage a brand new Mercedes. It is a relatively quiet ride as I think the driver wants his new car to last for a while and so he doesn't take quite as many chances.

We get to town and jump in a bus that takes us to Central Station where we go a few more blocks to the post office for foreigners. I would never have found it myself and most Romanians have no reason to go here so I would have been wandering around lost if it had not been for Ross. We finally get to the building and it is under construction. It does not look like this is it, but there is no information on the door indicating where to go.

We are leaving when we take one last look. There is activity in an office way off to the side of all the construction. A closer look makes us think maybe it is the post office for foreigners. We go inside and start the red tape process. I hand the clerk the paper I received with yesterday's mail. He begins to fill out another form in triplicate. He scrutinizes my passport. What exactly he thinks I am going to have mailed to me is beyond my comprehension. Knowing that they open all packages, who in their right mind would send something that is not stated on the manifest. He then marches off through piles of rubble to the next office. There another gentleman has yet another form filled out. They put the package on the scale and weigh it. He points to the weight on the scale and the amount written on the form and indicates that I must sign it. I must sign a second form to indicate that I am indeed the addressee of the package. The bureaucracy is amazing.

Now the clerk begins opening the package. There are a few boxes inside the big box and he opens each of them. He is strewing the contents all over as he opens each smaller box. I am collecting it all and returning it to the big box. Finally, he is satisfied that it really does contain what it says it does and he sends us out of the office. Thank heavens Ross has come along because I am not too sure I would have made it back alone.

We head outside to regroup. We find a trash receptacle and begin to unpack the boxes. If I try to take this big box back, I will have to pay for an additional seat and that is too much. We open every piece of packing as K has deftly hidden prizes all through the packing material. It is a glorious day! Chocolate! Ribbons! More chocolate! A Pin the Tail of the Turkey game that will be great fun next week on Thanksgiving. I have four classes and so they will be having great fun. And, of course, the shoes. She has hidden all sorts of toys under the lids, in the tissue. I think the customs guy actually took the Lay's potato chip bag for packing material. Little did he know they wouldn't last the evening and they were great! And then there are the shoes!!! Shoes that fit! Pretty shoes. I would put them on now, but that would mean carrying my boots home, and they are much too bulky. I packed my bag and stuffed one of the smaller boxes with all the great stuff we found. I have to admit to eating one of the Milky Way bars right there on the spot. It was too tempting.

It took us two different trash bins to get rid of the cardboard and then we left the bigger pieces folded under one of them.

We wandered to the big grocery store and then headed back home. It was a lovely day – made all the better with the arrival of new shoes.

I a me a year, the computer for many area where m including a few pictures of the landscape on the return trip. The light was perfect on the snow and through the trees. The sheep were at the roadside in one of the meadows. They do not use fences to keep the animals in. There is no road kill at all so they must have smarter animals in Europe than we do in the States. Seldom are there even people with the animals when they are out grazing. The gates are opened at 7am and the sheep head for the mountain side to graze with their dog escorts. At 5pm they are all back at the gate, waiting to be let in. It seems that they need no one to tell them the time. You could set your watch to them if you wanted to. They know what they are supposed to do and do it well every day.

The Second Snow

2007-11-15T11:40:00.001-05:00

Snow is beautiful. It coats all the mud with a white blanket and looks so soft and pretty. Waiting for the bus, I see the sunrise has turned the snow pink on the mountain farther up the valley. I don't think I have ever seen this phenomenon before. I have never been where the sun rays touch the ground before they are actually in the sky. It is quite a sight.

These apple trees are right across the road. It rained for quite a while last night and so they are covered with ice first and then snow.
We pass the mountains to the north on the way to school. They are covered with a light dusting of snow. They look like a Christmas card.

Later, when I get to school, the sun is higher in the sky and the snow is looking like it may blanket the town soon.

St Michael and St Gabriel Day

2007-11-15T11:32:00.001-05:00

Thursday was Saint Michael and Saint Gabriel's Day. I do not celebrate saint days as a rule and so I didn't think much of it. I found that only seven of fourteen students showed up to my first hour class and nine of thirty-one to my second hour class. I understood that the other students had stayed home because it was a holiday of sorts. Those who were in school were only there half-heartedly. The twelfth formers were studying for the driver's test on Tuesday and the rest were celebrating name days. Apparently, if you are named Mihai, Miheala, Gabriel, or Gabriela, it is your duty to bring chocolate to celebrate your name day.

As it happens, my day is over at noon today. Every day at 11 there is five minutes added to the ten minute break and there are excellent bread rounds that they call bagels available for everyone. This is what comprises lunch most days. I have managed to lose twenty-two pounds so far. None of my clothes really fit anymore but I am determined to save the money and wear them anyway.

Back to the Saints day. I went into the teachers' work room to drop off one attendance book and pick up another and grab a bagel for sustenance. I find a huge spread laid out complete with white wine and scotch. I would be fired at home. Everyone indulges. There is music blaring and the food is excellent. Soon it is a full-fledged cocktail party in full swing.

As it is considered rude to be in class when the bell rings, I have gotten into the habit of waiting for about half the teachers to go and then I go to class. The bell rings. Nobody starts packing up to go to class. Nobody leaves. I watch but it looks like they are all settled in for a while. I ask another teacher what is going on. She tells me that all the students have gone home and to have some ham and cheese.
Finally, when there are only ten minutes left of the hour, a few teachers begin to head out. I gather my books for class but someone tells me they are going home, not to class. I stay a little longer and then I go home also. What an odd day.

Fulbright in Romania

2007-11-14T18:36:00.000-05:00

The Fulbright Commission has been in Romania since 1960. Interesting that it would have been allowed before 1991. It has an intriguing history. Today the Commission fills many roles in education in Romania. The Teacher Exchange Program is the one that has brought me to Romania. It has allowed Cristina and I to change places for the academic year. Do I hear a possibility for a reality show? “Changing Places?” I can see it now – Cristina in my classroom and me in hers. I wonder what we would each choose to highlight?

Fulbright has a number of programs in the States, but it seems that there are a myriad here also. Mihai Morieau runs the office. He has managed to get me where I need to go and put all the pieces together. Miheala runs a program today as students are studying for the SAT and TOEFL exams. There are two rooms of students getting ready to take the exams so that they can do their very best. Diana is a student from Gura Humorului and is studying for the TOEFL. She wants to attend an American college for to study journalism. We talked for awhile and then she got back to her studying. I will have her sister in class. I told Diana that she is welcome to visit any time.

It is a very successful program. Students come from all parts of Romania to study here. They are committed to an educated populace. I find it refreshing that people young and old are interested in philosophical and educated issues. Certainly there are discussions of mundane topics, but I have heard esoteric discussions as well, much more so than I might at home.

Tonight it is raining. I do have an umbrella with me! That is one thing I have learned in Europe. I try to always have an umbrella with me. It is one of the most useful things I carry in my sack of goodies. I have three this time and I hope they will last the year. I could probably count the number of times I have needed one in America on one hand, but that is certainly not the case here. It rains much more often in Europe. Either that or I have an Eeyore cloud over me.

Mihai told me of a tiny museum that is only two blocks from the Commission. The museum is a little jewel, to quote Mihai, and it contains Romanian classical painting in a nutshell. Nicolae Grigorescu lived and painted in the house for a time, which has now been transformed into a museum. This little museum has the paintings and sculptures displayed so that you can walk right up to it to see the brush strokes and the colors. Grigorescu is Romania’s greatest painter. He was in his glory when he lived here. Some of his earlier work is the church painting at Agapia Monastery. One of the unexpected joys of Eastern Europe is stumbling upon these little, unpublicized, hidden treasures.

I spent the day at the Fulbright Commission and managed to find my way home without any detours. Along the way I saw this garage. Can you imagine driving out of it and still have a car in one piece. It would have to be on stilts not to scrape.

This is going to be great. The hotel is a quaint one where you can walk at night. This was actually too sweet for me to finish if you can imagine that. What will this year bring?

Christian Rock Band in Timisoara

2007-11-04T06:15:00.001-05:00

Walking back to the square, we found a Christian rock concert in full swing. They were singing and rocking for all they were worth. I am not sure if it was in English or Romanian, but the crowd was grooving with them. Dancing and swaying with the beat. It was quite a show.

The stage lights lit up the square. For my theatre friends, check out the number of smart lights. As I recall, they are a thousand or two a piece. This guy stood here all night long panning the stage manually with this intricately balanced, counter-weighted tripod. I cannot even imagine the amount of money they have tied up in equipment. Sadly, the lead singer was off-key for most of the night.

Not bad for such a scruffy looking group. We ran into them a few days later at the Opera. They had not improved their appearance in the least. No wonder Americans are looked on so poorly in other countries. We were able to pick them out of the crowd instantly without hearing their American English at first. They were loud and didn't take notice anyone around them as they were obviously the center of their own universe.

The Opera

2007-11-04T05:55:00.001-05:00

Timisoara is near the border of Serbia. There is an opening of an opera and several of us decide to go. As Meghan put it, "We are at a Romanian Opera House watching an opera being sung in Italian with Romanian subtitles about an American and a Geisha in Japan in 1895 by Romanian actors." And so begins a marvelous production of Madama Butterfly.

The Opera House is at the far end of Piata Victoriei and so we must join the promenade to the opening of Madama Butterfly. Everyone is dressed in their Sunday best, ready for an extravaganza.

The proscenium is built for the opera with its huge scenery and larger than life characters. Above the arch is an invitation to the audience. It says, "Huge scenes, life changing. Come, See, Listen." Apparently, the Romanians have been reading their Shakespeare.

This is a traditional theatre with the royal boxes rising up alongside of the stage. They are intricately carved and gilded, offering a bird's eye view of the production. The loges above the main floor have the same intricate embeliishments. Above the ceiling is decorated with vibrant frescoes. Amazing that such a fabulous theatre remains in a country with such abject poverty.

The conductor appears and the overture begins. We are transcended into Japan of the late 1800s. The actors arrive on stage and the opera begins in earnest. It is interesting listening to a language I do not know with subtitles in another language I barely understand telling a story I do know. The actors move about the stage in costumes that seem to waft the very essence of Japan into the house. The theatrics are every bit as good as New York theatre.

It is over all too soon and we are carried out into the nighttime otherworldliness of the Piata with the crowd. We turn to head back for a late light ice-cream before calling it a night.

A Sidewalk Art Class

2007-11-04T04:36:00.000-05:00

On the way to the conference, we passed an art class on the sidewalk in a square. The theme for the day was fall landscapes. The students had palettes filled with brilliant shades of red and yellow.

A huge banner proclaimed this to be the opening day for a sidewalk exposition of student art. The students had easels and chairs and were very busy creating masterpieces.

It turns out that the reason they are out on the sidewalk is that the conference we are going to is housed in their school and they have been banished for the day. We tried to explain to the lead teacher that we would like to see more of their art but she never really understood what we were saying. There were some clearly talented artists in the group.

Later, I thought of these students when going through my photos for the day. I wonder which one of them could have painted this Monet-inspired picture that I captured from the taxi window.

Pigeons

2007-11-04T04:21:00.000-05:00

Timisoara is home to a gazillion pigeons. They all seem to live in the Piata. For you bird-watchers, there are a few places of note in the square. First, the Pigeon Lady. She holds court in the north end of the Piata.

This morning she is dancing a slow waltz, tossing bread to them as they perch on her shoulders and arms. They allow her to dance through them as if they do this every day, and maybe they do. Maybe this is a daily ritual for them both. Suddenly, it is over. The Pigeon Lady begins to walk away and the pigeons fly into the air to give her room to escape.

Shoes

2007-11-01T13:43:00.001-04:00

I just want to buy a pair of shoes. How hard can that be?

I love shoes and brought a few pair with me as the same pair of shoes are boring day after day, not to mention there are a lot of cute shoes out there and many of them come from Europe. I have found plenty of shoes on my previous European visits and so figured it to be a no-brainer to find them here. After all, I am living in Europe, not just passing through for a few weeks. I particularly want a pair of clogs for the fall. They are easy to wear and my feet have now swollen a full shoe size and I can no longer fit into most of the shoes I brought with me. I did not bring winter shoes as packing space was an issue. I had to decide between shoes and coats. I chose the coat which was good as it turns out. And so begins the saga of the new shoes.

I knew that I would not find them in Gura Humorului, but certainly in Suceava, a city of 100,000, there is a shoe store. My first foray for shoes was a complete disaster. There were only very high, pointy elf shoes that would not survive the sidewalks. There were truly ugly, sensible shoes that even my grandmother would never have worn. And there were sneakers which just don’t work with a skirt. Nothing even close to what I am looking for. I went home disappointed. Next week we would try another shoe store in Suceava. It was to be more of the same. There were no clogs to be found at all, although I tried on every size 40 in the store. There were two but they were terribly uncomfortable.

A few weeks later, we went to Iasi, a two-hour drive across the mountains. It is a university town and so there must be shoes in Iasi. Daniela’s sister who is a fashion queen met us and had offered to take us shoe shopping. This was going to be awesome.

In preparation for this trip, I went to the bank to withdraw a few hundred dollars in case I hit paydirt. Credit cards and checks do not work in Romania. Only cash. There are ATMs everywhere and they have the same fee structure as in the US and so I made a withdrawal at my local bank. You never know if there will be one where you need it in another city. Walking makes you think ahead.

Of course, a few of you have been hearing about the dearth of shoes from the beginning. From one of my friends - “Oh, for crying out loud! You weren't just checking the sales racks, were you? And you were looking in European sizes (e.g., I'm 7 here but 37/38 there?)?”

I have been scouring every shoe in the store. I ask for anything remotely close to my size and hear, “No, we don’t have size 40. 37?” OK, they say it in Romanian and with a lot of gestures and pointing to size numbers, but that is the gist of it. My feet have grown too big!!

After trying all the shoe stores within a five block radius in the shoe district to no avail, Narcisa declares we are going to the mall. Mall? Did I hear her say that right? A mall? Oh, boy!! I feel like a puppy with my tail wagging in anticipation. We catch a taxi directly to the mall. This even looks something like a mall. It is two stories at least. It has a central court. There are storefronts with displays. Yes, I have been out in the boonies for entirely too long.

We have been in every shoe store in the mall and in Iasi. Thought you would like to know that Romanians do not wear a size 9 or 9 1/2 or 10 shoe. I went to the third largest city in Romania to get shoes. I went to at least 30 shoe stores and not one had a black clog or a decent, black, low-heeled shoe in stock in my size. Not even for $300!!! Yes, I am that desperate.

I have been to every shoe store in this area of Romania. I am not kidding. I have been to the cheap outlet stores. I have been to tres expensive boutiques. Nothing is big enough, although there are some very cute shoes. When we arrive home after this trek, I go online, determined that there must be a way. I did find that Marks and Spencer will be in Iasi in the spring. Although that is encouraging, it does not solve the shoe problem today.

I finally bought shoes online and had them shipped to a friend who is sending them to me from the States. This is truly awful.

Halloween Party

2007-11-01T13:41:00.006-04:00

Halloween is not a Romanian tradition at all, but this year the kids have decided to participate in some of the American traditions. They have organized a party for the evening. They have published invitations which are posted around the school. This is going to be a really wonderful evening. I have been invited and decide that I should go. I have no costume so decide to go as an American. The gym is decorated for the occasion. There are lights strung from the rafters that are intertwined with re d and black taffeta. Pretty yellow and red leaves are scattered on the floor. There are carved pumpkins glowing around the outside of the gym. It is quite a sight.
All the kids have costumes. There are the high school students, but there are also some younger siblings who are welcomed to the festivities. There do not appear to be any chaperones. Several of us teachers have arrived as we were invited and it sounded like fun. These kids don’t appear to do stupid things and are capable of making intelligent decisions. I am not sure why this is. It may be that it is a small, isolated community and peer pressure to behave is very strong.
They are all in costume and it is hard to tell who they all are. Some have come in traditional costumes of sorts. Some are dressed as ghosts and ghouls. Some are dressed as cats and clowns. Some have evening gowns and others have rags. Cross-dressers and gypsies. Even Santa made an appearance. It is quite an amalgamation. The MC for the evening has a fabulous set of tails with a striped shirt to set it off. He has spent some time making his face look pretty scary.
As the evening moves along, there is a pumpkin carving contest. I have been asked to be a judge. It is really difficult to decide. One little boy has made an excellent jack-o-lantern. It even has long strands of twine for hair. It wins first place. There is dancing and vamping for their friends. Finally, it is time to leave before the last maxitaxi leaves.

Civil Mass Media Conference

2007-11-01T13:41:00.003-04:00

This is the view while I waited for the maxitaxi to take me to school. It is a Saturday and one of the teachers has organized a conference on Mass Media, which sounds interesting. The trees are a blaze of color today – all yellows and oranges. The mountain is gorgeous. It is tempting to simply stay home with a cup of hot chocolate and sit by the window. The maxitaxi is taking its time getting here. I have been waiting for almost twenty minutes and it is cold. That mug of hot chocolate is calling. As I begin to head home, along comes the van to pick me up. That is the second time this has happened. Maybe I should decide to leave sooner and it will arrive sooner.

This conference was organized by Ana Maria Rusu, one of the teachers here who teaches a class in Mass Media. I later found that this is the first and only conference she has ever organized. Every detail was taken care of. There were conference folders for the attendees including a pen and writing paper. There was even a book on the subject and a variety of handouts that discussed the role of mass media in today’s society. When the teachers arrived there was coffee for them during registration. Everyone had a nametag and a folder. There was not the usual two hour process to get everything started.

The conference actually began as scheduled. The microphones worked and the projector guy is on hand to scroll up and down through the day’s agenda. I do not understand the necessity for a microphone in a room which has been constructed from two classrooms with the connecting wall taken out. It is not a big room, and yet, every time we are in here, the speaker must use the microphone.

The room was full of teachers from all over Suceava County and others who had arrived from Bucharest. They are mostly a young group, unlike those at similar conference in the States. Everyone listened attentively as introductions were made. Soon it was time for the featured speakers to talk. There were few cell phone calls and few people left the room. I really do not understand much of what is being said as it is all in Romanian but everyone listened attentively. I caught the gist of what was being said. Mid-morning, there was even a coffee break with coffee and goodies from the bakery.

There were several very interesting speakers. Ana-Maria had managed to lure Mircea Toma, the editor of one of the Bucharest newspapers, to speak at the conference. He smiled as he spoke. He is a very unassuming man. He looks like a newspaperman as he takes notes of the proceedings.

She also has Nicolae Daramus, a well-known journalist/writeissues speak.

And finally, she had involved Nicoleta Fotiade from the Agentia de Monitorizare a Presei, an NGO from Bucharest who helped to sponsor the conference. She had arranged for a beautiful pensiune in the mountains for them to stay. It is a seven hour car ride, eight and a half by train, from Bucuresti to here.

Lunch was a bit of a walk but well worth it. The tables were done up in fall colors to match the vistas we saw on the way. We walked through parts of town I did not know were here to a restaurant with good food.

After lunch Ana Marie had scheduled several breakout sessions - one for students who were attending the conference and one for teachers. The students had brought some of their projects with them to present.

Walking back to the maxitaxi bus stop I couldn’t help but notice the lovely mountains again. The setting sun cast a golden glow over them.

The train home over the mountains

2007-11-01T13:41:00.001-04:00

I had wanted to return over the mountains in the daytime so that I could see what I had experienced in the dark. It had been quite a ride. Checking online, there was a train that left at a time when I would be able to see the mountains. I stopped into the shop that sells train tickets. Unfortunately, almost everybody there speaks only Romanian and mine is still not ready for prime time. My high school French is serviceable and so that is what I used today. I am able to have minimal discussions in French but I do not always get the finer points - like why I can't take the train that goes over the mountains in the daytime.
I wanted to take the train that goes over the mountain during the day. The people selling the train tickets keep insisting that the trains I want are not, in fact, the trains I want. They insist on selling me tickets for straight through travel. They don't seem to have the concept of wanting to see the landscape. I keep trying to see the countryside and I keep ending up on night trains. It saves on hotels and I get to sleep – so to speak, but it really isn't what I want. I have printed the complete itinerary of the train I am interested in, but still, they sell me a ticket for the night train. They seem to think I am not capable of changing trains. It is easy enough. You check the time, watch the station names, and get off at your stop. If I want to be sure I get off at the right stop, I only need to take out my ticket and cell phone. I check the time several times, and then the ticket. I find it helps to take out the map too. With the ticket in one hand and the map in the other, checking the cell phone for the time, someone usually leans in to help. Usually they take the ticket, peruse it for a bit and then point in the direction we are traveling. I always find it encouraging that they point in the direction we are still going. It would be depressing to think I had already passed my station. Then they think for a minute and hold up two or three fingers and say the name of the stop. That means in two stops we will be at the stop where I need to get off. They will then indicate that I should sit down and that they will tell me when to head for the door. Conversation is always interesting as my Romanian is limited and their English is often just as limited. For ten minutes we try to have an intelligent conversation. It usually consists of a few village names, I try to say I am a teacher; they try to tell me where they live or where they have been. We smile at each other a lot and shrug our shoulders. Soon the stop is close and they always get my suitcase off the rack. I always appreciate this because I am always afraid that I will lose it and it will fall on someone's head.
It is a rainy sort of day this afternoon as I leave Timisoara and head home. It has been a full weekend and I am sure the week ahead is going to be a long one.
The terrain is rather flat over here. There are sheep, sheep, and more sheep. It really lends to the aura of a pastoral landscape. How can you see so many sheep grazing and not find it peaceful here. For the first time, there is a river that looks like a river. The water flows right up to the banks on both sides. The water is flowing rather freely. I wonder what it looks like in the springtime. I imagine it will not be as full as the rivers will be in the mountains. The spring rains will certainly raise the water level here, but there is not the run-off that the mountains will bring. They tell me that the water will overflow its banks. I find that an interesting thought. At present it is more like a dribble than a river. I shall have to wait and see if it lives up to its reputation in the spring.
It is a foggy, rainy afternoon as we cross over to the Carpathians. The landscape is covered with a mist that would make even Tolkien happy. The mountains are misty outlines in the distance, giving a fuzzy feel to the image through the window. My mother's favorite painter is William Turner. He was a British painter in the early 1800s and earned the reputation of the "painter of light." This landscape is reminiscent of his canvases. I think it is the sky that most resembles his paintings.
Soon the light begins to fade away and we are traveling in the dusk toward the mountains. I see them rising higher and higher as we get closer. The sun fades fast here. It must be that it can't get over the tops of the mountains. Suddenly we are hurtling toward home in the dead of the night. Click-clack past one empty station after another. Only the station master in sight. It seems that he must give some sort of signal to the train as it passes by. This part of the journey seems so much a part of another time. It is not hard to imagine a carriage on the other side of the station, waiting to take Aunt Hattie to her sister's for a holiday in the country. In the city, the train station is bustling with people going every which way. Here in the mountains, the train is the only link to civilization for many people. As new people board, often there are many well-wishers on the platform waving and sending air kisses to their loved ones. Definitely another time.
Night time on the train. We all dig through our belongings for dinner. There is a wonderful camaraderie amongst us even though we can't all communicate. I share my chocolate bar. It is always well-received, and they share their homemade salami and homemade cheese. We have a quasi-conversation as best we can. It is amazing how fifty Romanian words and a gazillion hand gestures can go. This trip I am accompanied by a couple who also live in Gura Humorului. They are really sweet. They live on a farm near one of the villages. They are returning from Bucharest after six weeks with their son and his wife who has been very ill and in the hospital. They took care of the kids and house while he was at work and at the hospital. Luckily the wife has come home and will recuperate and this couple is coming home again.
There is a tunnel that we have to go through. I could reach my hand through the open window to touch the cement walls if I want.
Finally we are at the top of the world. Vatra Dornei. I have never seen this place but it is at the very summit of the mountain. There is a very successful ski resort up here which I shall have to check out this winter. I will be taste-testing the hot chocolate, not the skiing. I am not sure there is a bunny hill here. I think it is more of a sink or swim affair. The last time I was on skiis, I ended the day with a sprained ankle. That would be devastating here. Walking is a matter of necessity.
We stop here for about twenty minutes. It does not seem as if anything is happening. I hear no cars being added or taken from the train. Maybe we are waiting for the timetable to catch up with us as we have been flying along the rails to get here.
There is a river flowing right next to the tracks. The street lights sparkle in the water. The entire town is bathed in a warm yellow glow from the streetlights and the moonglow.
Across the river is this lovely building. It is dark inside but the exterior is all lit up. I particularly find the ELVIS sign amusing. I am sure the rest of the sign is behind the tree but it is fun to imagine that Elvis has been here. He certainly gets around.
Finally we are on our way again. Night trains are so very different from daytime trains. It is a balmy evening in November. Several of the windows are open and the warm night air comes rushing in. It is exhilarating tonight. The moon is nearly full. We are at the very top of the mountain heading down to our valley. I stick my head out of the window to look up at the sky. The trees are so very close to the tracks that it is impossible to see the sky otherwise. The moon against the treetops is beautiful. This is a night that will be impossible to repeat.

The Birds in Timisoara

2007-11-01T13:40:00.001-04:00

The cobblestones are shiny with rain. It has been spitting all day. It is rather spooky down there in the Piata as most people have taken shelter from the wet. Just as dusk turns to darkness over Piata Victoriei, an unusual phenomenon begins.

I have noticed that the animals in Romania are left pretty much on their own. You can set your watch to the time the sheep return from the mountain meadows in the countryside. Apparently, this is also true in the city also. The crows know it is time to call it a day and they all rush home to their nests at the same time. Just on the cusp of evening, as the light is fading to darkness, it begins. There is silence in the air, and then, imperceptibly, the sound of beating wings begins to whisper through the failing light.

It is not long before the first birds arrive. The first wave comes from the left of the Opera House heading right through the Piata and out, directly in front of the Cathedral, just missing it as they fly to the left.

More and more raucous birds fly over. With a tremendous rushing of wings, the sky above the piata is soon filled with birds. More and more waves of them are whooshing through the Piata. A few of them roost on the building across the way. There are thousands of birds in huge flocks, wheeling through and on to their destination. They careen about the sky above the Piata turning the sky black with their beating wings. The sound of so many wings flapping is unnerving. They are flying so fast that it is impossible to actually see them individually. Occasionly one will dip down, seeming to take in the piata, eyeing me menacingly, deciding whether to roost on the balcony, but then it passes by, returning to the flock.

Each flock is a swirling dervish overhead as they swoop up and down. Suddenly they are gone as quickly as they arrived. It has not been five minutes since the first wave of them arrived but now every one of them has disappeared behind the cathedral.

The only reminder that they were ever here is the park benches.

Gypsy House

2007-11-01T13:39:00.010-04:00

Gypsies here are not the wandering minstrels and singers that they are in literature. Here they are a very definite second-class citizen. It seems they were brought here from India several hundred years ago by a king who needed a serving class and they were chosen to fill the bill. In the past fifty or so years (as well as I can gather) they have fallen from servant status to lower-than-dirt status. They certainly are everywhere begging. Unfortunately, these are not passive beggars; these beggars are in your face and follow you along the street or accost you at your table in a restaurant. They do not take no for an answer. I have been warned many times to watch out for them as they will steal you blind. That is true anywhere if you are careless, so I take the warnings with a grain of salt.

I have tried saying no in a variety of languages. I have held up my hand in the international STOP signal. I have tried saying “Englesy.” Sometimes they bring cards and trinkets to your table. This happens often on the trains. They come down the car, drop the trinkets on your seat, and then return a few minutes later to collect them or the money instead. I have tried handing them back. None of these methods seems to work at all. In fact, it seems that any sort of response is seen as encouragement and they are even worse in their tactics. The best thing to do is to look away and ignore them. They will eventually leave you alone.

There are stories in the European press of Gypsies here and there committing crimes. These stories are received with outrage from the local people as they are appalled at the reputation that Romania is earning because of these few instances of murder and mayhem. It is a huge problem here. Some of the children are sent to school but most of them do not attend. I understand that most of the ones who do attend are there only to collect the money that the government pays for attendance. Unfortunately, most of them do not attend long enough to gain much from the experience.

The children are sent out to beg each day and must bring home a minimum amount of money or they are beaten so they say. I have seen groups of families in rail yards. Often the adults are haranguing the children and I can only imagine what they have done to deserve such abuse at the hands of their parents.

I have heard stories that parents maim their children so that they can earn more money than if they were healthy and whole. I cannot even imagine this sort of thing, but I have to wonder when I look at so many mal-formed Gypsies. They do seem to have more major injury damage than the whole of society.

No longer do they roam Eastern Europe in their wagons, earning money as tinkers and entertainers. Now they have an awful reputation as thieves and worse. This house is supposed to be the house of a Gypsy king. It is east of here about an hour. It is a most interesting house. They say it has no running water inside but is beautiful otherwise.

Timisoara

2007-11-01T13:38:00.001-04:00

After finding where I was supposed to be and who I was supposed to be staying with, Timisoara proved to be an excellent place to spend a weekend. Megan and Neil have the same apartment on different floors of a block on Victoriea Piata. This statue of Romulus and Remus takes center stage in the Piata. People-watching is perfect from their perch on the Piata as the weather is still balmy. This is particularly of note to me as we had snow last weekend. The roses are still in full bloom here. Most of the rose gardens here are planted in boxwood mazes.

Timisoara was originally a Magyar fortress. It is now a lovely, cosmopolitan city. Apparently, it was the first European city to have public water, the first to have electric street lights, and one of the first in the world to have horse-drawn trams. In keeping with that tradition, it is now home to the premier technical university in Romania. It even has an international airport.

This piata is where the Romanian revolution began. Most of the bullet holes have been plastered over, but these remain, on the building that houses McDonald’s, so that no one should forget. The square is called Victoriei Piata which I imagine is a result of the freedoms won as a result of the 1989 revolution. Maybe the Piata was chosen because of its name. In any event, it is hard to imagine Russian tanks rolling down the center of the square, pummeling the demonstrators with mortar rounds. It is not that I doubt it happened; it is simply that I cannot understand Ceausescu’s reasoning for giving the orders to open fire on innocent citizens – or the soldiers for carrying out the orders.

Megan rescued me from McDonald’s, and took me to a lovely little restaurant that served warm croissants around the corner. We stay for quite a while. It is nice to sit and talk to someone who actually understands what you say and you don’t have to explain what you mean. Then we went to find Neil, who had been, indeed, sleeping while I tried to find his apartment. He was up and about. Soon he had to go teach and so Megan and I made the rounds of the neighborhood. I found real tea! Books in English! Even one that is on the best seller list!

Later in the day, Neil and I found a lovely restaurant that makes the best desert I have had since I got here. It was a crepe with a vanilla filling, smothered with a sweet poppy sauce. It had whipped cream to top it off. Simply scrumptious. There was not a bit left over. I considered licking the plate.

Walking through Piata Unirii, we found an interesting cobblestone. Apparently it is an early map of Timisoara, showing the defense towers and the original streets carved out of the stone. Note that the north/south axis is even marked. Although there is no “X marks the spot,” it is easy to see where we are. An early blueprint?

The buildings in this square are fabulous. They are gigantic monoliths to a time gone by. I am sure they were costly to build, but I think even The Donald would be hard put to finance one of these today. The intricacy of the carvings and the sheer mass of stone and marble is astounding. These were built as houses and the bigger the house, the more money and social status you had. This certainly gives new meaning to “keeping up with the Jones’.”

Dinner at The Irish Public House where they have food I can recognize! Neil had ribs that were delicious. We sat on a rickety balcony overlooking the rest of the pub. We could hardly hear ourselves talking but it was wonderful. Another American from Kansas sat next to us.

This little café has everything – warm croissants and ice cream. On the way home, we stopped for ice cream. Delicious ice cream, socolata and whipped cream for less than three American dollars.
I know that I am carrying on about the food but it is fabulous in Timisoara. I have had nothing but traditional Romanian food since I arrived. As I am not Romanian, I am reveling in the food that I know and enjoy. I have managed to lose 22 pounds since I arrived. That is three pounds a week. I read somewhere that two to three pounds a week of weight loss will stay off. This year in Romania is certainly more fun than Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig.

Neil, or is it Neil??

2007-10-29T01:11:00.007-04:00

I need to be sure that I have a place to stay tomorrow. I called Neil but there was no answer. He is probably out and about and doesn't hear the phone.

Since I have been in Romania I have learned a new technology – text-messaging. Every few weeks I get a prompt on my cell phone that I have one hundred new text messages to use. I never knew how to use this before but Romanian phones don't have voicemail and so this works as an alternative.

I send a text message to Neil that I will be arriving at 6:30 in the morning on the train and ask whether he will be home. He texts back that no, he will be heading to Craiova at 6 but that it will not be a problem. I text that I had planned to take him up on the couch offer. He returns, "No problem, I will leave the door open."

I ask him who or where Criova is and he returns that it is the "land of happy" and that he will return on Friday or Saturday. This is odd as just yesterday he was going to be here but plans change and I have a place to stay so it will work.

The train seems to be out of the mountains and has picked up speed. It is late by now and so I get some sleep on the train. In the morning, I get out the folder with all the information about the conference and the people I will be seeing. I dig through it several times but find that the printed copy of Neil's email with his address is in the bottom of my zip-locked suitcase. I decide to send one last text message. It will certainly be easier for me to show the phone to a taxi driver than to try to explain where I want to go. I ask Neil what his address is so that I can get there. He sends back. "twenty nine paris street." I text back, "Thanks," and let it go.

Soon we are pulling into the Timisoara Nord station and I am getting myself and my suitcase off the train and heading out to the buses and taxis. It is still dark out and so I decide to take a taxi to his apartment which is near Piata Victorie. I show the address to one of the taxi drivers who is not sure where it is. He consults with another driver and they figure it out. He will take me there for ten lei. A great deal! He puts my suitcase in the front seat and I get in the back seat. It is not far and soon we are parked in front of 19 Paris strada. The driver is pointing to it and shaking his head. It takes a minute before I realize that this is the last address on the street and there is no twenty-nine.
I make a quick decision to go to Piata Victoria and figure it out from there and so I ask him to take me back to the piata to a coffee shop. I remember reading that Neil is right off the Piata. Across the Piata is a McDonald's and so that is where I head. This is the first McDonald's I have set foot in since I left home. I have a cup of hot tea and an orange muffin while I consult the map. I find Paris strada only two blocks away and decide that I can walk there.

It is nearly 7:30 now and the sun is just peeking into the Piata. Maybe it is late enough to call. As Neil has left for Criaova, I call Meghan. She is actually awake and wonders where I am. I explain that I am lost and that I am at the McDonald's in Piata Victorie. After a short discussion, she decides to come down and have a cup of tea with me and then we will plan the day. I wait for a short while and there she is coming through the door.

I explain that I didn't call Neil because he is out of town. She looks at me as if I am nuts. "He is at home sleeping," she says.

I say, "No, he is on his way to Craiova until Friday or Saturday."

"He is sleeping. We were out late with two other Fulbrighters and he is sleeping."

It takes a few minutes to figure it all out. Apparently, the Neil I have been texting all night and this morning is not the Neil I know. Somewhere in Timisoara, an apartment is open until the Neil I do not know returns on Saturday. Now I am wondering who this is that I have been texting. How nice that this person is willing to share his apartment with a stranger who starts a text conversation with him out of the blue. Or is this really some crazy person? Who is it I have been conversing with? And how coincidental that the address he chose (which does not exist) should be only a block from where I am really heading anyway.

We are all settled back in their building when my phone jingles. It is another text message. "Returning from happy land tonight." I thought whoever it was had been having a great joke at my expense, but apparently there is more. I am curious. Ring. Ring. Another text message. "Be around at 8 to let me in or leave the door ajar." Who is this? Who could be less than a block away? I know no one in Timisoara except Neil and Meghan and they are both sitting right here.

My curiosity won out. "Meet you at Kimodos at 830," I text back.

"Where is that?" Whoever this is speaks English quite well. There are not that many Americans here.

"Piata Unirii Come have a beer."

No response. Once again I figure that whoever this is has had enough. It is a glorious day in Timisoara. We have wandered here and there and are putting together dinner plans when I am alerted to another text message. "I have my laptop with me Can you leave the door open." Who is this? He certainly is persistent. I have no idea who this is but I am beginning to feel guilty about his door being wide open all day. I actually did try to go to his apartment but couldn't find it. I do hope nothing has been stolen while he has been gone.

Ring. Ring. Yet another text message. "My train gets in at eight thirty – whats the story with the door? And this is David, no?" So whoever this is has thought he knew me all along, just as I had.

I text back, "Not David, are you Neil?"

"No, Bruce." As I am reading the message and putting two and two together, my phone rings and I answer it. It turns out that for two days I have been texting another Fulbrighter who lives in Bucharest on the same street as Neil. There is the same Piata in Bucharest. We talk for a few minutes and I apologize for not realizing who he was. We hang up as I am in a noisy, crowded restaurant and he is on a noisy train and neither one of us can hear very well. What a bizarre coincidence!

The Train to Timisoara

2007-10-29T01:11:00.005-04:00

This time I have arrived at the station on my own. It was raining and so I took a taxi here. I was going to take the maxitaxi and walk down to the station but it is entirely too sloppy. It has been raining for days. There is water everywhere. I am wearing my favorite jeans and Birks so I am ready to get on the train without a hitch. Of course, what I did not think about is that the weight of all the handouts has made my carry-on horrendously heavy. Someday I will learn to travel light, but probably not in this lifetime. When the train arrives, you have about two minutes to get aboard. That would be fine if I knew where to be. There are four tracks in Gura Humorului. Amazing for such a tiny place! I ask at the ticket window where to stand. I go to where I understood I should be but several people tell me to go to the other end of the track. I have a first class ticket this time, finally. I am determined to enjoy this trip. I am in wagon number seven. You would think that was the seventh car but it is the third. I hear the train before I see it. I take this picture in a hurry as I have to gather my things and get ready. Soon it rounds the bend and screeches to a stop. I have to race down four train cars to get to the one I have a ticket for. You cannot get on the wrong car and move through the train for some reason and so it is necessary to be in the right place when it arrives. I get to the car and have to wait for three other people to get on as they were there first. Then I try to hoist my bag into the train. Not happening.

We have been traveling downhill for over an hour now. It is dark so there is no way to tell what it might look like out there. I hear the steel wheels screech against the tracks as they wind down the side of the mountain. It is peculiar to feel the train lean to the left and ten to the right without being able to see where it is we are going. I am looking forward to the return trip as it will be daylight. Although it will be uphill rather than down, it will be interesting to see the terrain we are traveling through. We slow down every few minutes. I think the brakes have been engaged most of the time in the hour and a half since we began this descent. The lights of the villages veer into sight and then fly away as we change direction.

The brakes make a grating sound that I can feel in my feet. It is a wonder that they are able to maintain any sort of braking after this long. I am beginning to smell an odd smell though. I do hope it is not the brakes burning themselves out.

It has been raining for a few days. We pass over a river that we would call a stream, I think. This evening yellow, muddy water is rushing over the rocks under the bridge. I guess it really is a river on occasion. The graying dusk casts a blue shadow over everything. It is almost as if we are riding into a fairy world. A fine mist has been hanging in the air since morning. The mountains are in the clouds. The day has had a fairy tale feel to it all day and now it is continuing into the evening.

It is well into dusk and almost pitch black outside. We pass villages bathed in an eerie light from the street lights. Everything seems to close by eight o'clock. Only the bars and clubs stay open. Even they are quiet tonight. Maybe it is the rain. It is a weeknight, although that does not seem to stop the kids from staying out late.

The windows in these old trains are interesting. Some of them open and some of them don't. The ones that don't are always in the compartments that are crowded. Tonight there are two windows that will not close. The one in the corridor is stuck open about an inch. Not bad in the summer, but it was 37 degrees when I left Gura Humorului and that is in the valley. I can only imagine what the temperature is here in the mountains and then add the speed of the train… The window in this compartment doesn't quite close. It appears to be closed but the fellow who is sitting next to it has been trying to close it for about fifteen minutes. He keeps opening it and slamming it. Then he tries jamming it into place with the palm of his hands. They must hurt by now. He took a handkerchief out to use as a cushion but it wasn't worth much. Finally, the conductor came by and together after a short discussion, the conductor opened his official leather pouch and extracted a pad of very thin paper. He tore off a sheet and wadded it into the gap. He and the fellow spend ten minutes stuffing paper into the gaps down one side of the window and then he disappears to make his rounds of the train. He walks from one end to the other of the train. It is much nicer now. I have taken off my jacket and quite comfortable in a sweater. Later the conductor comes back and they add more papers to the window. Now it is getting quite hot in here. Unfortunately, the corridor is freezing by now, so it is either roast or freeze. I am opting for roasting. There doesn't seem to be a happy medium.
We are hurtling down the mountain now. I can feel the brakes engaging as we come into a village, the few lights that are still on whiz by us. We round another bend in the rails. It is impossible not to lean with the train as it winds through the curves.

Tunnels are very strange at night. They are not well lit as they are in the States. Here there are sporadic yellow lights that emit just enough light to add an eerie glow to the carved out walls of the tunnel. It is a long tunnel, this one. The train races through the tunnel. The walls are only inches away. If I stuck my hand out of the train, I could touch them easily.

It feels as if the train is getting away from the engineer as we careen in to the station. We come to a screeching stop. It is most interesting to ride at night in the mountains. You cannot see what is coming or where we have been.

They say that this is the dirtiest and awfulest train in Romania, although it has the best sights. They are right about the conditions. Te bathrooms smelled awful when I got on this train.

I can feel myself being pushed into my seat by gravity as we continue down. It is now three hours since we began this descent. We are winding to the left and down. A train passes us every once in a while. It is easy to be lulled into thinking it is perfectly safe. We are stopping again although I don't see a station. I am leaning nearly into the seat to my right. We must be hanging onto the side of the mountain by a thread. It seems as if I am at about a 75 degrees sitting up instead of 90. An odd feeling. We are slowing almost to a stop but I cannot see why. I feel the gravity again. It is a good thin g we are going slow. I am being pushed back into my seat. It must be quite a grade to feel it so much.

It is only 10:30 and we don't arrive until after 6 in the morning. I wonder what the rest of the ride has to offer. We seem to be on an even keel now – we must be out of the mountains and traveling through Transilvania. And it is the week before Halloween….

Dimitrie Gavrilean Exposition

2007-10-29T01:11:00.003-04:00

This evening is an exposition at the museum for Dimitrie Gavrilean. He is an artist from Gura Humorului. He currently lives in Iasi where he is a master artist and professor at the University. The opening event is at 5 but I do not want to be too early. Romanians are the ones who coined the phrase "fashionably late." I am going to have to hitch a ride into town as the maxitaxis have stopped running for the day. I have never hitched a ride in my life and am not really sure how to do this. I am wearing a wool suit with a silk scarf and heels. Somehow it is not what I imagine to the typical hitchhiker apparel to be. Hitchhiking is standard procedure in Romania and is safe. You pay the driver what the maxitaxi would earn for the same trip. It seems like a good idea until I am out here in the rain in my wool suit and heels waiting. Supposedly, you stand at the bus station and anyone in a car with an extra seat will stop to take you into town. I wait for twenty minutes for a ride. I start by peering intently into the first few cars that pass. That does not work. Then I try lifting my hand in their direction as they pass. Then I try waving and pointing to town. I have seen all three maxitaxis head out of town but they have not returned and I have been here for over twenty minutes. This goes on for about twenty minutes during which time I am getting wetter and wetter. Finally, I decide this is not going to work and start walking. It can't be that far and I am determined not to hire another taxi today. They really are not that inexpensive. I head for town, turning to signal each vehicle that passes me. Nobody has any room or chooses to stop. It is impossible to blend in and so I continue to plod into town. I get to the bridge and no one has offered to take me to town. I walk a bit farther when I hear something larger coming up behind me. It is one of the maxitaxis! He picks me up mercifully. I ride the rest of the way.

I arrive in town and walk to the museum. It is 5:07 and already there is someone speaking. Of course, it is all in Romania so I have no idea what is being said, but there are several speakers and they all seem to have much to say. I stand listening attentively in the growing crowd and clap at all the appropriate times and it looks like I know what I am doing. Several of my students are here, as is the art teacher and Costel, the French teacher who invited me. As I do not understand very much of what I am seeing, I turn to crowd watching for entertainment. There are quite a few very well-dressed people at the opening. Several of my students notice me and translate bits of the story that is being told about one of the monasteries that Gavrilean has painted.

It seems that each of the pastorals is a depiction of a Romanian story. His new one is the story of the _________ Monastery. Each day the architect would build all day, accomplishing much and then go home to get some much-needed rest. Every morning he would return to the construction site only to find that much of what he had accomplished the previous day had been reduced to rubble. This went on for some time but he doggedly continued to build every day. Finally, the builder had a dream one evening that he must wall in the first woman to arrive at the monastery the following day. In the morning he went to the site of the monastery to prepare a space to wall in that woman. He waited all day for a woman to arrive but none came. Finally, it was getting on the dinnertime and he spied his pregnant wife coming down the lane with his meal. As she was the first woman to arrive, he put her in the wall of the monastery.

The painting has a haunting quality to it as if the artist's hand could feel the sadness of the architect and it painted that sadness into the painting. Gavrilean paints lovely medieval scenes of peasants in their daily tasks. They are chubby and have happy faces. The paintings have a medieval aura about them. The eerie thing about them is that I recognize these daily chores as those that are still being done today. Men still go out hunting for pheasant and bring them home for dinner. Hay and straw is still cut down with a scythe and pitch-forked onto a carute for the horse to bring home. Huge gardens are still tended by hand. There is an interesting custom that continues that involves a parade of goat-masked revelers going house to house to celebrate the New Year. My favorite is a huge painting of a wedding at the Voronet monastery. It is called Nanta la Voronet, or Wedding at Voronet. The paintings vibrate with life.

After the speaking is finished, everyone mills out into the lobby. I wasn't paying attention. By the time I returned to the lobby all that was left was half-empty wine glasses and crumbs on the cookie plate. I have managed to catch the artist posing with his family. His mother is wearing the authentic Romanian dress. I imagine that some of his paintings are from his own memories, while others are from a time he knows but many others have forgotten.

A Photography Exposition

2007-10-29T01:11:00.001-04:00

Eighteen photographic artists are exhibiting their work at a juried show at the Voronet Monastery this morning. It sounds like a lovely way to spend a Saturday morning. Morning dawns on a grey sky. As it gets closer to the time to leave, it gets greyer and windier. Finally, huge drops of rain splatter against my bedroom window, rattling the panes. This is not good. I am dependant on the maxitaxi and a regular taxi to get me there which means standing in the elements until one comes along.

I decide I still want to go and so I make a cup of hot chocolate to warm my innards for the trip. After all, I have an umbrella and a rain jacket. How miserable can it be? I stand by the window watching for a break in the downpour. Is it slowing? I think so. I put on my sweater and jacket and head out to the bus stop. It is just drizzling now. I walk to to bus stop and wait. And wait. And wait. I am getting wet. I start to walk back when the maxitaxi arrives from town. He stops to let me on. I ride to the end of the village and then back to town. I get a taxi to the Monastery. It is still raining so I ask the taxi to return in an hour. I think that is plenty of time to stand in the rain.

I walk through the entrance to the grounds and put my camera away. I am in the presence of experts and artists. I don't want to look presumptuous because I do not have the talent I have come to see. They are still setting up and so I take another look inside the monastery. The painting is fresh and well-preserved, probably the best of all of them. I stroll around the building in the rain. I see one of the artists still hanging his pictures. He attaches the string to the back of the one and then winds it around a peg at the top until it hangs just so. He stands back to examine the effect and then at it, goes back to unwind the string and start again. He does this two more times until he gets it exactly right. Then he goes through the same process a few minutes later with the next picture. I continue around the monastery to the beginning. I move out of the rain onto the porch. I watch the water roll off the roof. It pours onto the sidewalk. The sidewalk extends out about ten feet from the monastery in an exact silhouette. What has appeared to be an artistic dip in the stonework turns out to be a catch basin for the rain as it falls from the roof. It is neatly carried away so that puddles do not form. How considerate.

It is nearly time for the opening to begin when I spy a fellow teacher with his family and a few students. He is wearing a nametag that say she is one of the organizers of this event. He speaks French and so we speak through my high school French, his little bit of English and a student who translates for both of us. It is wonderful that we can make this work. He invites me to see the exhibit. The photographers are wonderful. They are from Spain, Austria, Hungary, France, Latvia and Romania. It is a juried exhibition. I am so glad I was early. As we reach the end, I look towards the entrance and see people flocking in to see the exhibit.

It is nearly time for my taxi to reappear and I can't be late. I don't want my carriage to turn into a pumpkin so that I have to walk all the way back in the rain.

First Snow

2007-10-29T01:10:00.001-04:00

It is October 24. It is snowing outside. Not just snowing, but actually sticking to the ground snowing. The snow is coming down in a torrent. I stepped outside to see the first snow. Not big, soft, white, fluffy flakes, but fast, tiny, cold blasts of ice. You can see the white flecks as they tumult to the ground. They sting my face when I look up at them. Rivulets of cold, wet snow are dribbling down the back of my neck.

The ground is wet and sloppy with the mud now and the street is slick with it. The horses clip-clop along in it, but the sound is muted. No one is about. Cars swoosh by and leave a trail on the pavement.

When I chose Romania as a place to spend a year, one of the criteria was weather. It is supposed to be warmer here than it is in Michigan, but that has not been the case so far. I packed two umbrellas for this trip and they are getting plenty of use. It rains and drizzles here, much more so than I expected.

As the morning turns to afternoon, the snow continues, leaving a white blanket over the mountains. It is really lovely, but so early.