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.

Krakow-ski...Of Course!

By far one of the best vacations I’ve been on thus far. I’m not really a city person but I instantly fell in love with Krakow. The old colorful buildings captivated me in a way that architecture has never done before. The area is rich in WWII history, which for some reason has always intrigued me. The language was a crazy encounter of the third kind but I quickly learned by simply adding a “ski” to the end of each word I could carry on an intelligible conversation with the natives. Okay…not entirely true but FACT: Egyptian = Egipski, case in point. Also, since Romanian has some Slavic influence, I was able to pick up on a few words and by a few, I mean two. While Poland was amazing in itself, I think the greatness of this trip was enhanced by getting a glimpse of life on the “other side.” I don’t always realize what I’m missing while in Romania but after leaving for a brief period, I was served a giant cup of Espresso. Although in Eastern Europe and a former member of the Eastern Bloc, Poland has become extremely westernized. It is astonishing how much faster the development has evolved than in Romania after communism ended in 1989. Granted I did only experience a small portion of the country for a small period of time but the differences were surprisingly vast. People appeared to be happy, customer service was decent, there were not any stray dogs, I wasn’t in a continuous cloud of smoke (was even given the option of sitting in a non-smoking section) and it was relatively clean. Obviously the two countries have gone through their individual experiences but there has to be some further explanation. In pursuing such answers from a variety of Romanians, it has been fascinating learning more about their history and in turn, provided me with a better understanding of the negative mentality and sense of hopelessness that so many people carry here.

As I’ve expressed on several accounts before, traveling here takes an ungodly amount of time. In order to cut back on some of that time, we found a cheap roundtrip plane ticket from Targu Mures, Romania to Budapest for the equivalence of $12. Obviously too good to be true, right? Surely it would be an open cockpit, powered by us pedaling or maybe even a simple hang glider. Surprisingly Loose Wizzair Sleeve airlines presented a giant plane but unfortunately 6 hours late. Consequently we missed out on our day to see Budapest and our connecting train to Poland. On the plus side, we got a free sandwich and an all expense paid stay at the Budapest train station with all the homeless, drunks and hookers. The train station was actually pretty cool looking and made me think Dr. Zhivago (but that could be an incorrect memory on my part.) Either way, after a crazy night at the Budapest train station, where I might have contracted a temporary case of fleas, we took the next train to Krakow. However, this particular train took the scenic route into Slovakia through Bratislava into Czech Republic and 10 1/2 hours later to Poland. It was a nice opportunity to see a little bit of the other countries and experience 5 different currencies within a week. I did meet a friendly lady from Vienna who spoke a little English and insisted I talk to her daughter in English on the phone. Regrettably, the daughter was unavailable so her mother and I agreed on being pen pals via email. The lady was quite interesting, as she told me about the special education system in Austria (her son has Down Syndrome) and the prejudices she experienced as a Pole in Austria. In the grand scheme of things, to travel a distance that is maybe comparable to the Minneapolis to Chicago route (if that), it took over 24 hours and every form of transportation except a boat. No lie, I was in a car, plane, bus, metro, maxi taxi and multiple trains. If something doesn’t go wrong, which it inevitable does, you feel a bit let down, for you have nothing to show for your time spent.

Upon arriving in Krakow, I was immediately in awe. The apartment we rented was right next to the Florian Gate, which was once the entrance to the fortified Old Town of Krakow. We were only a few blocks away from the Main Market Square, Europe’s largest medieval square. We could even hear the bugler play from the tower of St. Mary’s Church every hour on the hour. Word on the street is that for as long as anyone can remember, a bugler has played the same song and stops mid note to honor the bugler who was announcing the arrival of the Tartars in 1241 and took an arrow from the enemy right in the jugular!

One of my favorite nights out was the evening we spent with our new crazy Polish friends. There are a few universities in Krakow, so there were lots of students and young people. This was exhilarating for all four of us Peace Corps Volunteers because we are currently living in small towns and villages in Romania, where 20-somethings are nearly nonexistent. It was fun to get a brief encounter with the Polish culture and hear about their worldviews (who they like, who they hate and why.)

We did the sobering trip to Auschwitz, an hour and half bus ride out of Krakow. It was a cold and rainy/snowy day; either way it would have been a fairly miserable trip. Even seeing the evidence of cruelty in person, did not make it any easier for the mind to fathom that such atrocities actually happened. However, it didn’t make it any easier to forget either, which I think is the motive in going to see something like this. As unsettling as it was to walk through where 1.1 million people were executed, I’m glad I did. There really are no words to express such an experience.

All things considered…lots of history, culture, good food, good drinks and good people…it was a grand trip! One I would recommend to anyone. Na zdrowie!

Georgia On My Mind

Of all the weddings, holidays and events I’ve missed this past year, being away for the birth of my first niece has been by far the hardest, for I will never get to hold her in my arms as a miniature pipsqueak. Georgia Elizabeth Grant was born (as a baby) at 2:43pm on Monday February 2, 2009 tipping the scale at a whopping 8 lbs and 17 ½”. My sister promised to call as soon as she was on her way to the hospital; so for the past week my heart would skip a beat every time the phone rang (which occurs on an average of 1.2 times/day – THEE text book definition of one who is in high demand.) Nevertheless, I did receive a few calls throughout the actual day of birth with updates and when the actual bundle arrived; my mother was so excited to be a grandma that she had forgotten to even ask what the name was. When I checked my email the following day, I immediately got tears in my eyes. Being away during Katie’s entire pregnancy made the whole situation surreal and now here was a picture of my niece, who I will not get to meet for 17 months. Furthermore, she was given my name - who knew how honored and proud that could make you feel? Needless to say, I’m ecstatic to finally be a matusa!

February 2^nd not only brought stork deliveries but it also brought water back into my life. On Friday night, the water went out like usual, and having a few guests over my water jug reserves went fairly quickly. In attempt to be a decent hostess, I got up to make coffee and breakfast but to no avail the water remained nonexistent. After waiting a couple of hours, we grew parched and headed into town. There’s nothing like washing your face and brushing your teeth in a public eating establishment. These truck stop routines conveniently continued throughout the entire weekend. Thus creating an opportunity for my first trip to the neighborhood well, which coincidently happened to also be my virgin well experience. Okay, FACT: I have been to a well before but not to retrieve water that I had to haul home. It was an exciting new experience, especially because all surfaces within a 5 foot radius were covered in ice. So between winding the chain up, dumping the bucket o’ water into my jugs and struggling to remain standing, I’d say... sign me up again. Luckily, this weekend was also Campulung Moldovenesc’s Serbarile Zapezii (snow festival) and provided more than an ample amount of entertainment to distract us. I mean…with horses, outdoor concerts, fireworks and a visit by our very own Native Americans (who are strangely on the Romanian Festival circuit), how could it not?