Paşte Fericit!

Happy Easter! Although I celebrated my Easter last week in the big city of Suceava with a gourmet dinner at McDonald's and a trip to the “pet store”…

It slightly reminded me of the Easter my family was on the road back from The Ranch AKA my grandparents’ retirement community on the Rio Grande, where the Border Patrol flowed like margaritas and the Bingo blotters never went dry. Yes, we would drive round trip from Minnesota to the very southern tip of Texas and the nights we spent in nicer areas we could sleep with the car windows open! Thinking of all those endless family road trips…no wonder traveling in Romania with Current threats is such a breeze – no pun intended. Any hooters, we stopped at some fancy fast food joint and climaxed with an Easter egg hunt in the conversion van, which you can be sure we 3 girls did not do with any sort of grace. Oh how family vacation memories can make me giggle…

…we are now on the third and final day of the Romanian Orthodox Easter. School was supposed to resume today but when I showed up everyone was gone. Only 50 out the 200 students showed up so the Director sent everyone home! Can you imagine that happening back in the States?! So, apparently last week’s Easter vacation is unofficially extended. Yet another reason it will be difficult to return home. Everyone spent this past week spring cleaning and cooking more food than one ever thought possible. I got in the mood as well and brought my giant floor rug out for a good beating. Never having done this before, I was going to have to mimic the Bunică method I’ve observed so many times before. So I rolled the ole girl up (my rug…not Bunică) and brought her out back to sling over the tree log apparatus my landlord uses for such an occasion. However, the horizontal log was a bit high so here I was jumping or more so flailing around in attempt to get the rug unrolled and hung. Success. Now...with what shall I beat it Dear Liza? Since I didn’t have the adequate rug beating instrument, I resorted to using my broom shaft. Forty-five minutes and two blistered hands later, it finally occurred to me why the bunicas are always able to push their way in front of me in line at the post office. Nevertheless, I must have some decent cleaning abilities because when I cleaned the organization club room with 2 other ladies they said I was definitely ready for marriage. Thank God! I thought the day would never come!

Thursday was the day to decorate eggs, which are typically died red. However, in the Bucovina area you can rarely go anywhere without seeing the traditional intricately painted eggs. The red eggs are the ones we used to play the egg cracking game on Sunday before eating. Before knocking your egg with a partner the first person states “Hristos a înviat!” and the second person responds “Adevărat a înviat!” (Christ has risen! He truly has risen!); and whoever’s egg does not break will have good luck the following year and/or a whole other slew of superstitions.

On Friday and Saturday I was invited to my counterpart’s house to learn how to make all the traditional food. As pork was the featured guest at Christmas, lamb is the “in meat” for Easter. Luckily I didn’t get to see one of those dead fellas in the flesh – word on the street is that it looks like a skinned cat. So I was thankful that just the back bone was present, from which we made a borş and friptură (kind of a roast). We did not make drob de miel, basically a meatloaf made from lamb organs, but we did have some with our meal on Sunday. It had an uncanny resemblance to banana bread, which apparently does not exist here, so you can only imagine that first disenchanting bite. When making cozonac (sweet/sponge cake), I asked the time requirement for kneading the dough and I was told until one sweats between the breasts…fair enough. Additionally we made răcituri (jellied meat – think chicken soup jello) and of course sarmale but instead of cabbage, we used grape leaves this time, which is more common to the Moldova region.

Saturday night I went to Easter service with my counterpart’s family at the small chapel in the psychiatric hospital. The true die hards are typically there from midnight to 4am. When I left my Bouse at 11:30pm, it was fun to see so many people out and about (the streets are generally deserted after the sun sets.) What tickled my fancy most were all the old ladies carrying their baskets of food that they had been slaving over all day to the church to be blessed before eating on Easter day. Approximately a half hour into the slujbă (service), the priest makes a call for light and lights a few individuals’ candles in front, who in turn light their neighbors and so on. Eventually each person is holding their own lit candle – quite honestly I’m amazed there aren’t more fire incidents. Shortly there after, the trickle of people leaving begins, which is when I also bid my adieus. Everyone carries their lit candle home and leaves it burning until morning. Of course mine blew out five feet out the door, so I took advantage of my lack of obligation and walked around town past some of the bigger churches. I wish I had taken a picture but the mental image of everyone walking home with their candles will forever bring me a sense of peace.

Primăvară

Spring has arrived. All long underwear layers have been shed, bathing is more frequent (or at least I entertain the thought) and I put my jazzercise class on hold as I hit the dirt roads to resume running. Having a year under my belt, I figured I’d have the running “situation” under control. You know – I’ve more or less grown accustomed to the blatant staring, chickens no longer tweak me out, running alongside a căruţă (horse drawn cart) isn’t all that awkward anymore and of course, those damn dogs. Obviously spring delivers more vagabond puppies, who take a pass by or two in order to acclimate to my grace as I jaunt by. Other than that, I’ve got the rest perfected to an art: if a large dog approaches - 1) cross street as needed and stop running (the small ones are looking more and more like footballs each day), 2) do not, I repeat, do NOT in any circumstance make eye contact, 3) be prepared to throw that imaginary rock, and as a last resort 4) there is no 4...just hope for no rabies. At any rate, I was ready to enjoy the beauty of spring without any underlying fears as I headed outdoors. While keeping my eyes open for new life, they quickly took a double take at the sight of an older gentleman watering the landscape alongside the road but my recent whiplash was due to the large fleshy hose in hand... Apparently I’ve been misinformed all along…April showers bring Male full frontals?

These past two months have flown by quickly; strange how that happens when you have some work to do. I’ve been teaching 3 adult English classes – I wouldn’t say teaching is my forte but I have truly enjoyed the opportunity to meet other people and work outside of my Bouse. Along with a few other activities and the Blogging the Dream project, I recently collaborated with my Romanian counterparts to submit a grant for a social integration project that will benefit both adults with mental health issues and students with special needs…hoping to hear back soon. Additionally, I had my mid-service training for Peace Corps in Sinaia, meaning I’m officially half way done with my service. It’s hard to grasp that I’ve actually been gone for 14 months, especially when I continue to learn and experience something new every day. A lot of what I’ve done thus far hasn’t…well, honestly, it hasn’t felt overly productive or as if my being here is even necessary. Peace Corps Romania is kind of a mindfac (for a lack of a better word). On the surface, there appears to be all the modern amenities and ways of life from back home. However, the longer you’re here, the top layers are quickly peeled away and the lack of infrastructure is waving in your face. All this has taken some time to adjust to (on several levels) but mainly because I, like many other volunteers, envisioned the African hut trade mark experience that is associated with Peace Corps. Nevertheless, everything has played out better than I could have ever imagined. The cultural lessons, people and everything unique to Romania is what has made my experience worthwhile, one I will forever treasure.

Lastly but a moment I had been long awaiting …my little sister came to visit! It was so much fun to show her around Romania, particularly within my town and introducing her to people I interact with on a regular basis. Other than having someone here I could hug as often as I wanted without it being overly creepy, it was entertaining to see her reactions to life here and battle the regional nonconforming "lines." I must admit, it took me several months of waiting in these so called lines before I felt comfortable throwing bunică an elbow to stand my ground. After meeting Megan in Bucureşti, we traveled to Sfântu Gheorghe, Braşov (including a trip to Bran Castle) and Sighişoara before heading to Câmpulung Moldovenesc. Some of the more memorable activities included making “American” pancakes with my English Class, getting locked out of The Shagging room at our hostel in Braşov, hoisting each other over the wall at Raşnov Fortress (it was closed), the endless train rides and ponyback riding. When I went horseback riding in Ecuador, I swore to myself that I would never again ride horses in the mountains or another foreign country. Definitely a story for the future but let’s just say the mental trauma far outlasted the blisters that were left between my butt cheeks. Either the memory lapsed me or the masochist within reared its head, but sure enough I found myself horseback riding in the mountains of Romania. Apparently they weren’t ponies …they were simply lower to the ground for mountain riding – I wasn’t entirely sold. Regardless, shenanigans ensued. Horses on ice…not good. Mine fell on its knees thrice, Lil Meg’s had serious hip rotator issues and the guide’s barrel rolled on top of him. Although the scenery was gorgeous, the ride could not end soon enough.