Uncle Buck

There are few things that I find to be greater than a beautiful fall day. Fortunately this has been the third one in a row and I can’t help but bask in it…even if that does mean running the risk of getting pelted by a falling walnut, protecting myself from Felix (the Landlord’s cat) and being sprayed by Alma’s (the Landlord’s dog) sudden sneezing attack that seems to be lingering for an obscene length of time.

As the crisp fall air settles in, so does a whole new round of cultural lessons. Although that is what I enjoy the most about being in Romania, it does bring on a wave of nostalgia of fall back home. However, I have been able to find some distant familiarities that assure me that life will be okay. I was starting to really miss the vibrant fall colors of Minnesota and crunching through the fallen leaves. Here I am surrounded by endless amounts of coniferous trees so the lack of color is inevitable but as I traipsed to the edge of town and into the hills I finally found what I had been missing. It was well worth the wait.

Yesterday I headed out for a walk with the intention of finding a quiet place to write but the splendor of fall enticed me to go further. I ended going half way up to Rarau Mountain, approximately a 2 hour hike through the hills, and came back via a mud road only to be passed by a strangely large number of nuns (if that’s in fact what the Orthodox call them) headed up to the monastery. I wish I could have shared the experience with someone because the entire 5 hours I was out and about, the magnificence of nature never ceased to amaze me. I saw what I believe are Red Elk. There were two ladies and one Giant Gent with antlers that could have served as a coat rack for a family of 12. Never before have I ever seen such a large deer type animal. After they moved on I spent the next 10 minutes slowly creeping forward out of fear that they would be awaiting me around each bend. Just as I gained momentum and returned to the comfortable groove I was in before the Uncle Buck sighting, I was greeted by a deathly bark. For some amazing reason, I had entirely forgotten about my greatest fear…the Carpathian Sheep Dog. How one forgets this is beyond me but nevertheless, I did. I hadn’t even found or even looked for my hiking stick yet. Between the terrifying barks, I could hear the bleats of the sheep he was protecting and unfortunately another intense bark of his co-worker. Now there was still quite a bit of distance between us but I had definitely been spotted so I slowly retreated to the nearest patch of woods to grab a stick. I snatched up the first one I saw and quickly erected the stick perpendicular to the ground. I then continued back through the field I had just come from but the sheep dog also continued in that direction. Was I not doing the Shepard Walk correctly? It was at that moment that I noticed that my stick was more of a dead branch 8 feet tall and the top resembled that 12 point fella I had just seen. I quickly broke ties with my deer disguise and shortened my branch into an actual Shepard stick. Then you can bet your ass I worked that Shepard Walk. And by God, it worked like a charm! Perhaps I’ll suggest that PC add Shepard Walking 101 to the In-Country Training because it is by far the most valuable lesson I’ve learned in Romania. Other than the mass Walk-by Nunning the remainder of the trip was relatively uneventful.

As I walk through the changes of fall in Campulung Moldovenesc, winter preparations are being made by everyone. One of the most visible being wood. There are no gas pipelines through town so sobas are used to heat the house or apartment. Some people have electric heating but it is quite expensive. I was told that wood is generally bought in late spring so they have all summer to chop and stack. Although I have witnessed this all through summer, it appears as though there’s been a mad rush recently and an increase of chain saws and axes being put to work. Also increasing is the scent of campfires (even though the smoke is coming out of chimneys). It is absolutely my favorite smell and the influx of frequency has been greatly welcomed. At home, the aroma was limited to days at the cabin and the few times people actually stoked up their own fireplaces, the real ones.

Inside the home, lots of work is also being done. Preparations of the winter food supply clearly take rank. They “can” just about everything imaginable, even fresh cheese – who knew? It’s a fairly interesting process to watch. I got the chance to observe my counterpart briefly who at the time was canning cheese and had just finished a vegetable mixture that will be used to make Bors throughout the winter. An amazing amount of salt is used to preserve the product. Language Side Note: Preservative in Romanian means condom. My counterpart thought it was awfully strange that I was inquiring about putting condoms in her jam. During the winter, from what I understand, potatoes are basically the only fresh produce you can buy. If there is anything else, it’s quite expensive. Personally, the only jar I have contains mustard, which could make for an interesting winter. Maybe a nice Bunica will take me in? I’ve been noticing that those who live in houses have another small building with another large kitchen serving as their Summer Kitchen. I’m thinking maybe it’s a more spacious area that can get dirtier to do all this canning business but I’ll have find out for sure.

Just as a side note…After plastic bottles, the most common thing I see on the street is a shoe, just one shoe. I simply don’t get it. Do people get home and realize they’ve lost a shoe along the way? Is there something I’m not comprehending? I mean, you don’t quite lose a shoe as easily as you would say…an earring, or do you? “Honestly, who throws a shoe?”