Channeling White Fang

Preamble Ramble: I’m no longer shocked (okay, I am sometimes but at least not entirely caught off guard) by the bluntness of the culture that surrounds me. I say blunt simply because topics we may consider taboo aren’t exactly a faux pas here….but trust me, there’s an inverse to that as well, which always leaves one a bit awkward with your tail between your legs... but that’s a story for another day. Hither-more, in conversations here; age, salary, religion, politics, marriage and weight are all fair game upon first meetings and anytime there after.

The Gamble: Sooo…After numerous days of a spring-like Christmas and morphing into what I ate, clearly a human sized Sarmale, I opted to take advantage of the falling snow for which I had so impatiently been awaiting. As I started my hike up to the Rock (no, Dwayne Johnson does not statue in BFE during the holiday season), I entered the woods on what doubles as a logging “road” and “driveway” for the few individuals who live and/or shepard at the top. And yes, I just used statue and shepard as verbs but…I’m over it. Anyways, I wasn’t able to smell what the Rock was cookin’ but I did spy that I was following the footsteps of what appeared to be two pairs of men’s boots and a dog. Ironically, I had the great fortune of realizing a bit too late that the NPR podcast that I had selected for my walk was about murder…not exactly the ideal setting to be listening to such a topic but I continued to listen out of fear that my imagination would come up with something far worse if I didn’t finish it out.

As I exited the wooded part of my trail, I saw the owners of the mysterious footprints in the snow coming back towards me. It wasn’t Jesus as I had hoped but in anticipation of the inevitable dialogue, I turned off my murder mystery. As I did so, I realized the wind and temperature was a bit more brisk once I was out of the protection of the forest. The man in the lead eyed me as if I was a walking freak gasoline accident the entire 100 meters until we met…

Man: Where you going in this weather?

Me: Up (Still new to random displays of conversation, I keep my answers short)

Alone?

Yes

Aren’t you cold?

No, I’m quite warm.

Where are you from?

(Damn, he noticed my idiot accent…should have kept my answer shorter) The USA…America.

America? Well, how is that possible? Where do you stay?

It’s true, I live here in Cȃmpulung.

How old are you?

27

Huh…do you have children?

Nope

Are you married?

Nope

Then you’ll definitely meet somebody here!

Maybe, I suppose it’s possible. Well…have a good day! (Unless of course you’d like my social security number)

The rest of their party arrives; a guy and 2 girls all about my age. Footsteps I didn’t see on the way up…perhaps Jesus was carrying them in their time of need…or maybe they all just came from the other way (I mean honestly, Jesus was just born. I really don’t think his 8 lb 6 oz frame could handle all that weight quite yet).

2^nd Man: Oh yeah, there’s a dog up there. And it’s loose.

Uh oh, really? (They’re just trying to scare the silly unmarried childless American)

Girl: Actually, we saw two.

(Shit, they’re being serious) That’s not good.

Boy: Just go up around the fence…or have some bread ready.

Well, okay, thank you! Merry Christmas!

And that’s a pretty standard but shortened first conversation that one might have on the train, in the post office or anywhere really. As I mentioned earlier, I’ve grown accustomed to hearing such questions. However, I am shocked by the ease of my reply…without hesitation. Not shocked like I just sat on my frosty squishy toilet seat in the freezing winter shocked but shocked like this is it! Mom and dad sent them to meet me so they must know the secret codeword shocked. Yet, these people don’t know the secret codeword we practiced so diligently as children and to no avail, I reveal all. When did I lose that Stranger Danger mentality that was so heavily engrained in all of us?

More Ramble: Continuing up to the top, alone…childless…unmarried…approximately 70 kg, I hesitated at the gate to think about this dog situation. There were paw prints all around the path, and I didn’t have any bread nor my Shepard stick…do I really want to meet my maker today? I plead temporary insanity for in my right mind I would have turned around immediately…however, at the time, my thought was…let’s see…you really haven’t left the house in 2 days…the climax of your last 48 hours was completing a jigsaw puzzle…you could stand for a little excitement…plus, all your winter gear gives you extra protection in the case of an actual attack. I moved slowly but successfully through the first ring of hell (AKA the farmer’s field) and the Rock was almost in sight. That’s when I heard the eerie howling of a wolfdog but the howling sounded more like crying. All this murder and dog talk got my ole ticker going a bit more rapid than the standard anxiety. I happened to be passing a frozen spring that in warmer temperatures dripped into a giant tractor tire that had been cut in half, and I opted to snap off a large and extra pointy icicle. My god, with the howling wind blowing snow and whipping across the field where the Rock sits, and me in hunter mode with my icicle weapon in hand…I was almost certain that the White Fang credits were about to start rolling.