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.