All In The Cards

I find that I do some of my best thinking while often walking aimlessly through the streets and surrounding foothills of Cȃmpulung Moldovenesc – but perhaps that’s just where I spend most of my time. At any rate, I left my beloved Bouse in search of an answer for my future but ended up attempting to fill the void that Alma left. Alma was my landlord’s dog and the only dog I’ve come to like in Romania. She’d often wait for me on my front steps and was always willing to spend some quality time when no one else was around. My landlord often flashed strange looks as we sat together on the cement steps – I never did find out if it was because he was concerned that I was going to freeze my ovaries or that I was simply spending time just sitting there with a dog. Nevertheless, the ole girl died last week and I’m going to miss our (instant hand-washing induced) time together.

I set out on the once half paved road, crossing over the eroded dirt road that has so many (now freshly rain filled) potholes that one can walk down faster than any car, caruța or bike, and continued on to the main street (Calea Bucovinei that transitions into Calea Transilvaniei as it in fact heads west to Transylvania). As I rounded the corner, a glorious evening sun was peeking out after a day of rain and gloom that is always accentuated by the old Communist concrete structures that succeeded in defacing the center of this quaint logging town. Fortunately, the destruction didn’t spread much further than along the main drag. Just as an interesting side note (possibly only to myself) but I just learned that the Plateau, the large broken concrete square center, and the fountain next to it use to be the garden of the large house almost a block away. As a result of Communism, the owner was forced to give it all to the government and move elsewhere. Until recently, the house was abandoned with broken windows but the government is in the process of returning property all across the country to the rightful owners and this house being amongst those already returned is now being renovated by the owner.

So…as I was saying; I rounded that corner to meet the sun’s rays bouncing off Cȃmpulung’s new sparkling cobblestone sidewalks. It’s amazing what a difference a new sidewalk (or even just a sidewalk) can make. Only time will tell but as of now, on either side of the main street, there is no trace of garbage or animal code F’s (Code F for fecal matter, a little lifeguard lingo I picked up the summer I worked as a water slide attendant…Go…ok, go…yep, you too, go…I should probably attribute everything I know to Cascade Bay). Additionally, I’ve been noticing a new sporadic smattering of telephone booths on these freshly aligned stones. Logically, I guess that would make sense – obviously the immediate advantage of new sidewalks are the ability to obtain phone booths to promote communication within the community. However, in theory, this makes absolutely no sense because everyone here has a cell phone, if not 2 or 3. Now, when I say everyone, I mean everyone; Farmer Joe stops cutting his field with a scythe that he’ll later bring home strapped to his bicycle to take a call from Nurse Betty who can’t get a hold of their Son Sam because he is busy driving the horse drawn cart full of hay and texting his little ole Bunica, who is struggling to hear the message alert through her head scarf on the way to church. And that…is just one of the endless examples of the contradicting way of life that is found here.

Just when I opt to sit on some cement steps to obviously preserve my ovaries and start to ponder why Peace Corps is still in Romania, one of the 2 million stray dogs bites me in the ass and …humps me???!!! They even know when humans are in heat?? Disgusted and secretly amazed, I jumped up and immediately found refuge in the nearest telephone booth. Okay, I didn’t really, but the thought just occurred to me – I’ll have to keep that in mind for next month. Luckily my anticipated guest arrived with her leashed ex-vagabond pooch, so we were able to move onward but not of course without 3 vagabonds, including the humper, escorting us.

Soon after, I return home to the Bouse only to find yet another canine on the porch hiding under my drying laundry. Perhaps this (and Humpers McGee) is Alma telling me to not fill that void with another dog…hmm, perhaps a blonde fella (or so my latest card reading tells me). If only all the answers were in the cards. Maybe they are… but as an amateur, I’m left to sit here in my full fledge neon green Romo pajamas and contemplate if tomorrow will be the day I look for that new toilet seat.

Dracula

Never before have I desired to read Dracula but I figured (as cliché as it is) that I probably should while in Romania. Much to my surprise, I’m glad I did…if not for the sole reason to see that Stoker had similar observations (even though he never stepped foot in Romania) of the land and people that I too am now experiencing. However, the astonishing part is that his were made over 100 years ago. Based on that statement, it would be all too easy to say that Romania has not progressed much but in reality, I’ve found that perhaps they are a people deeply rooted in tradition.

“We are in Transylvania; and Transylvania is not England. Our ways are not your ways, and there shall be to you many strange things.” And indeed there shall. I also use this starting point as a disclaimer; observations do not determine the difference between right and wrong, they simply determine that “our ways are not your ways.”

“I find the district […] is in the extreme east of the country, just on the borders of three states, Transylvania, Moldavia and Bukovina, in the midst of the Carpathian Mountains, one of the wildest and least known portions of Europe.” Bucovina is where I’m now a proud (possibly biased) resident and can confidently say is the most beautiful part of Romania. I believe it was named after the area’s beech (buche) forests after being annexed by the Habsburg Austrians in 1775. Coincidentally, I just finished reading Balkan Ghosts: A Journey Through History by Robert Kaplan, who also references this exact quote from Stoker to further describe Bucovina. I am in full agreement with Kaplan in that there is “this sensation of remoteness,” one that has brought an overwhelming yet refreshing calmness to my life.

“It seems to me that the further east you go the more unpunctual are the trains. What ought they to be in China?” Actually, I think the trains are probably the more punctual form of transportation here. However, punctuality in general really isn’t something one dwells on so much, which is a nice change of pace for those of us who always seem to be running behind by five minutes. The sense of time has been one of those calming aspects but also a bit frustrating at times when you’ve been conditioned to the mentality of; “If you’re early, you’re on time. If you’re on time, you’re late.”

“I read that every known superstition in the world is gathered into the horseshoe of the Carpathians, as if it were the centre of some sort of imaginative whirlpool; if so my stay may be very interesting.” Superstitions, whether you believe in them or not, always seem to sneak in your life. Honestly, I’m a wood knocker. Can’t tell you why but you can be sure that I knock it. One of my favorite cultural aspects here has been learning about all the different superstitions, which I have slowly revealed in previous posts. They have been a great source of entertainment and to my advantage, they are endless.

“Here and there we passed Cszeks and Slovaks, all in picturesque attire, but I noticed that goitre was painfully present.” I don’t know why but there are indeed an abundance of goiters.

“You must not walk here; the dogs are too fierce.” Story of my life…or so it often seems. However, the tables may be turning. Like most houses here, my Bouse does not have screens. Not really a problem; as there aren’t too many bugs nor strange men that will crawl through a window. But! I’ve always had this silly little fear that cats would come in and maul me in my sleep. I agree that’s a bit ridiculous so as the temperatures have increased I’ve been a little more liberal in my window opening. The insects inside have been getting quite large. In fact, there was such a gianormous moth that I saw it poop as it fluttered to my light. Nevertheless, I wasn’t so silly after all. Not once but twice one of those little buggers (and by little bugger, I mean a life size feline) entered my Bouse. I suppose it’s better than when the squirrels were chewing through the screens (chewing and entry) in Highland Park; they weren’t exactly laying on my bed waiting for me to come home like these filthy felines. As long as were on the topic, taxidermy isn’t just for the hunted. Yes, this is a picture of a stuffed cat mounted on a house. There are “many strange things” indeed.

You Say Goodbye...and I Say Hello

I remember the day I left like it was yesterday… After only two hours of sleep I was off to the airport at 4am with tear stained eyes and my entire family. Fortunately I had no more tears to cry as my breakdown three hours ago took every last drop; so I was left a bundle of nervous energy – the kind that makes you shake like you’ve drank too much coffee (not that I’ve ever done that.) And surprisingly, my three day old perm was no confident boost. A family friend at the airport helped grant my family “Military Access” so they could all come to the gate and wait with me. One of the security guards asked my sister which division I was in and her reply was one more of query, “Uh…the one that…uh...solves world peace?”

Since that departure, people have seemed to come in and out of my life at a much faster pace; yet we still managed to develop intimate relationships of understanding that will forever leave an impact on who I am. Some of these people I will stay in contact with but more than likely, I’ll never see the majority of them again. Perhaps it’s a result of getting older and going through more goodbyes or possibly the effect of emotional isolation over the past year or maybe neither one – either way, the goodbyes have not gotten any less disappointing but they have become more…I guess one could say, non-chalant. Meaning…less emotional, and perhaps less informal. Difficult to explain. Maybe at some point in your life you reach a particular limit and you become conditioned to think, “well, that’s that – time to move on.” Good or bad – nothing lasts forever.

Anyways, this past month or so has been filled with exciting new beginnings, nonchalant endings and a whole lot of that stuff that happens in between. I’ve gotten the opportunity to do so much recently that I hate to leave anything out but for the sake of trying to keep this remotely interesting ...I’ll say goodbye.