Cluj

Hi!

We're living in Cluj for a few days, then trekking up to Sighet.  And then we go on Fall break in Italy & Hungary.  So I may not be able to write much, for a bit.

I'll update when I have time to type up some thoughts.  =)

Brânza (My article from The Beacon, 10/8/10)

Brânza. The very word can strike terror into the heart of five study abroad students. Perhaps ‘into the stomach’ would be a better way of putting it. For brânza, you see, is a cheese. I cannot claim to be a cheese connoisseur, so perhaps I simply lack the taste to properly appreciate this particular delight, but I can tell you with certainty that there is nothing scarier to my compatriots and myself than the idea of Brânza for breakfast.

A sheep’s-milk cheese with an exceptionally strong flavor, fresh brânza can be found in the piața (market), the grocery stores and the fridges of all our host families. A single block of brânza has been known to inspire The Hungry Thing (name has been changed to protect Zach Hankel’s privacy) to skip breakfast entirely.

The flavor is not all we dread, though—the smell is perhaps worse yet. I’m certain that I can now pick it out subconsciously from 100 yards away, and it is this new sixth sense that I blame for my periodic desire to take the back way to the Impact Building.

“Aha!” says my subconscious to itself (because to tell my conscious self would be to inspire panic of the worst variety), “Brânza ahead.” And it begins to sneakily hint (…be subtle…look casual…act natural! Don’t make her suspicious…) to my stream of consciousness that perhaps I would like to walk along the river-path today. “Oh, no particular reason,” I think….

You suspect that I exaggerate the matter? But while it is potentially true that many people enjoy brânza (I am not convinced), this category does not include either my fellow study-abroaders or myself. We’ve all got one another’s backs on this one, too; if anyone has inside information about impending brânza-doom, they will immediately divulge it. The word is often an expression of extreme frustration. If brânza were ever used as practical joke fodder, the joker would certainly be stoned upon discovery. Possibly drawn and quartered, as well.

When a new sign appeared in the window of our favorite pastry shop advertising the addition of a brânza pastry to the menu, we sighed sadly. We will have to find a new favorite pastry shop, since the smell will undoubtedly contaminate the whole place.

It has been discovered in lingoși (a delightful fried-bread-like treat), a very unwelcome surprise. It is a frequent addition to mamaliga (an otherwise delicious cornmeal dish). It can even show up in cakes, I found to my dismay.

So far this semester, I have faced most of my worst fears. My fear of heights by running across the high-ropes course catwalk, a mere 20 feet in the air (it’s over sooner if you run, the logic goes!); my claustrophobic terror in a series of tiny, winding, scary caves. I have conquered my gag-reflex to eggs and, heck, I even gave up my vegetarianism of 5 years in order to experience the culture more fully through its cuisine. But I’m fairly certain this one is beyond me: Brânza—the bane of my Romania semester—is a fear I intend always to flee.

Go In and Out the Windows... (Read this one. You'll laugh.)

Well, I have officially decided that it is a good thing that homestays are ending…because otherwise Iancu & Mirela would probably throw me out anyway,, but as it is, there’s not much point, since I leave Thursday morning.

Confused? It goes like this: I came in through their bedroom door, today.  Stange why?  This door leads outside.  And their room is on the 2^nd story.  Their door leads to only a floor-high drop-off, since they haven’t yet built the porch it will eventually lead to. 

Here’s the backstory: Kelly and I went to the Reformed church, this morning.  And with all due pomp and procedure, we left extra early to stop at café mago for internet so Kelly could send an email to her family and so I could submit my late journal entry, which I had forgotten at my last three internet-options.

 We were just outside the gate when Grandma came out of her own gate and told us to wait because Iancu was driving her to church and would drive us, too.  And so with al necessary awkwardness, we waited for my host father, and begged our way out at the most suspicious of corners… I don’t even want to know what Iancu thought of those goings-on.  I’ll probably never know, either. 

 Café Mago had no wireless today (nice).  We found this out only after odering hot tea “de aici”; come on, it would have been rude to pull out my computer and investigate the wireless situation before ordering anything.  Besides, it has always worked in the past…

 We gulped down our tea in record time (they already know we are crazy Americans…they seem to like us anyway, so we weren’t too concerned) and dashed off to the Impact building.

 Emails sent, we headed out to wait for a Maxi-Taxi, since we had only 20-minutes until church and most of town traverse.  I informed Kelly of the best place to wait for a Maxi-Taxi and we stood there, watching one drive down the street…and right past us.  I apparently know very little about the best place to catch the Maxi-Taxi.  It stopped only a block-ish away, so we took off running and made it in plenty of time –the driver, I’m sure, enjoyed our antics, and I’m certain we were quite a sight. I’m glad I wore sneakers with my dress & 3-layers of tights, today!

Church was pretty good…in Hungarian, which I’m certain nobody actually speaks, they just pretend to—but good, none the less.  I sang “Praise to the Lord, the Almighty”, to its tune, while the rest of the congregation sang…something in Hungarian.  We were to meet Tad in the balcony, and happened upon Julie and her host brother, Manny (Emanuel), out front.  ‘Twas lovely.

After church, we headed to our respective homes, Kelly and I tromping up Straja until we parted ways at my gate.  Here are a couple more background notes:

1.
 Today is Florin’s, Kelly’s host father’s, birthday and a party is scheduled for 2 PM, to which my host family and I are invited.

2.   
 My hosts don’t really tell me things like this…I still officially don’t know about the party, as far as they know, I think.  Maybe Andreea (Kelly’s host mom) told them that Kelly has told me…maybe not  I haven’t told them that I know, because I kinda want them to initiate a bit and tell me themselves instead of leaving Kelly to invite me.

At any rate, when I got home and the door was locked, my first thought was not that they had simply not left the house yet – Iancu drove us to church, afterall!—but was instead “oh, they’ve left, already.”  And I proceeded to ponder the options…Maybe Kelly would get home and see them and remember that I had mentioned not having keys, when we went to the Impact building.  But maybe not.  Maybe I should just march up to Florin & Andreea’s.  But maybe that would be annoying, and besides, then I would be stuck in three pairs of tights all day instead of having a chance to swap out for jeans.  Plus I wanted to bring mittens to Madalina.  So, I obviously had no choice but to get into the house. 

I tried all the doors on the proper entry-level…no luck.  And the window to my room that I noticed while peaking around the corner by the scary dog – closed.  Phooey!  I checked the shoe-rack by the door for a spare key, but came up empty.  And so there was nothing for it…I would have to attempt a 2^nd-story entry.  With the help of a sawhorse  and a makeshift sort of ladder which I pulled out of the pond (it smelled great…), I climbed to a board propped on metal bars just below my other window, which was open in the “top-out-a-bit” way that Romanan windows can do…unfortunately you have to first close the window to open it in any other direction, a feat which wouldn’t work with my hand through the crack.  So I clambered my way across the boards to the next room over, Iancu and Mirela’s, which has a door for an intended porch.  The door was open, so I went in it and got tangled in the curtains covering it and surrounding the rest of the room…  And then I heard the bed creaking.  “Oh no!” thought I…”Hello?” said I. 

Iancu didn’t wake up for the fun, but I have no doubt that Mirela told him, since I caught them peeking out their window at me as I returned the sawhorse and ladder to their previous locations, and I can hear them laughing, as I type this.

Apparently no one has ever climbed in through that door, before, and she was freaking out when it opened.  All I can say, though, is that I am very glad I got locked out at noon…instead of midnight.  Good thing I leave in a few days, too…I can’t imagine how terrible it would be to give my host mother another heart attack of this sort.  And they seem a little worried about the potential hazard I pose to myself and their home, now, it seems.

                Iancu and Mirela clean up nice!  But it was weird to see Iancu not wearing overalls.  =)

                When we left the house to go to Florin & Andreea’s, it was the first time we’d all three gone anywhere together.  I didn’t realize this until afterwards.  In fact, it was the first time I’d left the house with either of them other than to spend time around the farm, but those have always been Marit-is-tagging-along-and-following-you times.

                As Iancu locked the door, when we left, I pulled out my key and announced “I brought it this time!” …Iancu laughed so hard he had to sit down on the porch.  I guess that means Mirela told him the doings he had slept through earlier…maybe he was just faking it and was awake the whole time. 

                At Florin’ birthday party, we watched the computer play a slideshow of his photos from the Retezat.  National Geographic should know about this man’s skills.

               

Kelly and I took a short hike up the mountain and down a glorious little trail.  Fall colors all around, beautiful, warm, ruddy sunlight on changing leaves and golden meadows in the late afternoon?  Nothing better. 

            

Ok, maybe this was better: We climbed a beautiful tree and sat in it and observed the world for a few peaceful minutes. 

I tried to leave Florin’s birthday party around 5, since my family had long-since gone home…Andreea told me “No!  Stay!  …Or you could leave with Robi.”  “Where’s Robi going?” I asked.  Everyone laughed.  “Anywhere fun?” I asked Robi.  Everyone laughed.  I felt awkward and opted to stay and went back into the living room.  A few minutes later Robi arrived there, as well.  “Did you go anywhere?” I ask.  He hadn’t.  I think “You could leave with Robi…” meant either Robi was the butt of someone’s joke, or I was.  Hard to tell, but given the company, I assume it was him. Or they were just teasing the American girl who won’t get it.  If so, it worked. 

We watched a ton of video clips of Florin, Robi, Ilie and others doing epic things.  It was super-cool!  They are all crazy-intense! Skiing up and down mountains (sometimes shirtless and in shorts), climbing frozen waterfalls with ice-axes, parasailing down mountains, riding their bikes down insane slopes… they’re like 13 year old boys who range from 30-some to 40-some.  It was insane!

At home, I found Mirela and a friend – probably why she left early.  I grabbed my Bible and eReader and camera and headed outside to snap some shots, watch some sunset and read.  It was refreshing, as was the rest of the day, and I slipped and fell on my backside a bunch of times, trying to climb a slope to find a good place to sit that wasn’t wet… in the end, my backside was wet from the places I landed, so it wouldn’t have mattered.

I knit one of the gloves for Zach…hopefully it will fit.  That puts my to-do list down by:
A set of washcloths for Mirela
Mitties for Kelly
Mitties for Tad
Mittens for Mada
1 of 2 glovesies for Zach.
Not quite cruising, but also not wiggling during class!

Views

 The slipper dance. (1)

 The slipper dance (2)

Looking into my room.

 Looking out of my room.

I read far too many books at once (Or: "Why I never get anything done but reading yet never seem to finish a book.")

Currently [re]reading...
(Not counting books I read just bits from)
Bible-wise:
-Psalms-Matthew-1 Corinthians
Class-wise:-Spirituality of the Christian East-Cafe Europa-Mountains Beyond Mountains-How We survived Communism and Even Laughed-1984

Other-wise:-Modern Social Imaginaries
-Universal Human Rights in Theory and Practice
-Singer's Guide to Karl Marx
-The Beloved Community
-Persons in Relation
-Perks of Being a Wallflower
-The Irresistible Revolution
-A Series of Unfortunate Events
-Austen's Northranger Abbey

Ţuica for breakfast (Not sure how you'll feel about this one, Mom...)

Ţuica for breakfast, this morning.  No…more like țuica WAS breakfast.

That’s what happens when Mirela has left for work and Iancu is left in charge of feeding “the kids” (i.e. me).

One of the first things Dana Bates told me, when he was told which host family I would be staying with, was “Oh, they’ll serve you lots of plum brandy.  You’ll have to learn to say no or you’ll be drunk at class.” 
I laughed.  I had no reason to laugh.  This morning I was offered țuica even prior to breakfast.  And this morning was by no means the first. 
I have finally figured it out:  They put me here because I am 21 (and now 22).  Legal.  No potentially bad repercussions for NWC, should I be offered copious amounts of booze in my homestay, 

Of course, that can’t be the whole reason they placed me where they did…but I bet it was factored in! 

The very first offer of hospitality by my hosts when I arrived over a month ago was a shot of țuica, which I obligingly sipped and from which I attempted to conceal some looks of "yikes, strong!".  Since then, nearly every evening, morning and other time I happen to be in the kitchen I am offered the same.  The flavor varies – plum, at times, cherry, straight-up whiskey or vodka, at other times.  In my first weekend on the farm, I was offered țuica 9 different times and by 5 different people (Mirela, Iancu, Grandma, Grandpa and Grandpa’s pal).

The funny thing: Mirela drinks only VERY rarely, Grandma never, from what I can tell.  It seems to be a male sport, for the majority.  So why is the offer always extended to me?  Probably from pure hospitality…but Iancu never fails to look surprised when I turn the offer down.  “Nu, nu, Eu voi studia deseara…” I often insist…studying with a shot of țuica running though my system sounds entirely less productive than with, say, a shot of apple juice.  His selling points: It will make me sleep well, it will help me focus (yeah, right) and It will warm me up (this is a pretty good one, since the house is fairly frigid most of the time). 

Regardless of his assertions, though, my țuica drinking is fairly limited.  The teasing reasonings are merely a cleverly-disguised form of the Romanian hospitality which requires that one refuse at least three times before an offer will be retracted.

Bere (beer) has been a recent addition to the fridge, as well, and strangely enough has upped my țuica consumption.  “Nu ȋmi place bere,” I told Mirela on her first offer, and Iancu on his an hour later.  I looked up words like “bitter” and “ick” in my English-Romanian dictionary for Iancu, but simply justified my response with “I’ve never been able to drink it,” to Mirela.  Nevertheless, “vreau bere?” is a frequent query at the dinner table.  Perhaps they have forgotten that I am neither German nor Russian, the stereotypical beer-drinkers, but instead of Norwegian descent; a race not known for its ability to consume mass qualities of liquor, from what I know.  At any rate, I have been offered the perfect situation to become an alcoholic, this semester.  Nice.  =/

On a side note, though, țuica isn’t bad…I wouldn’t recommend making it a part of every meal, as my hosts have attempted with me, but this home-stilled alcohol is an interesting and unique part of the Romanian peasant lifestyle…I've even helped with the țuica-making process, a bit, although mainly in the plum-gathering capacity.  ...and I might try to sneak a bottle home in my suitcase for a gift to...someone.  I have no idea who.  

Noroc!
P.S. My room also happens to double as a wine-storage facility...  The photos (other than the first two) are all from my room.

Moments of glorious delight…

Ever since my host family returned from their trip to Italy, we have been in a bedtime routine that goes like this:  We eat dinner; usually around 8-9:30 PM.  Mirela rarely eats with us (in fact I don’t think she eats at all – I never see her, anyway.), so this is my bonding time with “dad” (Or big-brother, more aptly).  More on this below.  I then wash the dishes, while Iancu puts food in the fridge and wipes off the table and Mirela showers.  We all then head for our respective rooms,   where they turn on the TV or a movie or just chat and I work on homework, read or type blog-posts in preparation for future encounters with the internet.   It has recently been the case, though, that I hit the hay before Iancu goes through his nightly routine.  His routine involves tromping in big, noisy slippers to the bathroom for tooth-brushing and the like and then a trip around the house locking doors, turning off radios and the lights. 

What makes this so lovely is the fact that my bedroom door has frosted windows in it, so the glow of the living room light acts as a nightlight while I’m curling into bed.  I do whatever reading I have the concentration for and then turn off my room light and climb from my slippers into bed and bundle the blankets around me like a nest.  Between my blanket nest and the glow from the room windows, I feel perfectly, completely secure, cozy and content.  It is the feeling of home; the feeling of safety; the feeling of family and warmth and love.  And I have missed that wonderful part of living in a family, for the past few years.  It is nice to find it again.  =)

Bonding time with Dad.
2 nights ago, Mirela made pizza.  I use the term pizza very loosely here, since her pizza crust consisted of a pan filled with bread slices and her toppings somehow involved a layer of milk… not entirely sure how that part worked.  It was not good.  Now, Mirela had warned me that it wasn’t good before feeding it to me, but I guess I just wasn’t prepared!  I bought her an English-Romanian/Romanian-English dictionary a couple weeks ago, and in it she looked up the words “burnt” and “soft”.  Apt descriptions, indeed! 
The top of the pizza was moist and gooshy (I attribute this to the milk), not pleasant to bite through.  The bottom of the pizza was burnt…nearly impossible to bite through!  I honestly thought I had boken a tooth, after the first bite. 

Well, like any good guest, I assured Mirela “Este Foarte Buna!” (this is very good!) and contradicted her “pizza rau” (bad pizza) comments with a boldfaced “nu, pizza buna!” (No, good pizza!) lie.  I’m not sure quite what got into me… It turned out to be a bad plan, that compliment business, since she then dished me up a second serving and filled a plate for Iancu before leaving the kitchen to shower.  So, there sit Iancu and I gnawing on “Pizza rau” and sneaking peaks at one another’s progress now and again.  “iți place?” (do you like?) he asked me with a snarky little twinkle in his eye.  “Imi place!” (I like!) I responded, defiantly.  “Si tu?” (and you?).  “Mmmm Mmmm,” he replied.   When he finished his plate, he headed to the stove to try & hack another slab off the pizza and without thinking I announced “yeah, good luck!” …and he burst out laughing!  Apparently Iancu knows a few English phrases, although he doesn’t let on. 

The dance of the slippers.
Mom, you would be happy to know how much a part of life in Romania slippers are.  Here’s how they work in my host home:  I take my shoes off outside the door and store them in a shoe rack where they will be most easily accessible to “Câine Mic”, the little puppy who enjoys chewing on them.  I trade them out with my flip flops (house shoes), before entering the house.  I am then able to walk all over the house…with the exception of bedrooms.  When entering a bedroom, house shoes are taken off and replaced with slippers. 
I happen to be atrocious at the slipper-dance, having two left feet and a lot of forgetfulness working against me.  But every time I notice that I have slipped up, my reaction is panic. The slipper dance is so carefully adhered to by my hosts that if I ever catch myself I my bedroom still wearing flip flops, I tend to yelp and dive for the door, tossing them out into the main living space.  And if I find that I have stomped into the living room without exchanging my slippers for flip flops, I wait until I am sure no one is looking before making a dash back to my bedroom.  Should I, in the middle of the night, make a trip to the bathroom and discover that I neither stepped into my slippers directly from bed nor traded them out at my doorway (2 feet from the bed) for flip flops, I am overwhelmed by a wave of guilt…I even caught myself listening at the bathroom door before dashing the 4 feet back to my room…just in case the slipper police might be waiting on the other side, ready to look concerned for my health. 

You’d love it, mom!  =)

And here is a random tour of my host-home via me turning around slowly with a camera from the center of the room....

And…Sunday!

Here I am again!  This might have to be turned into a separate post.

This morning, all 5 of us studenții attended Father Ciocan’s orthodox church.  We were joined there by Kadie, Alice, Alice’s parents, Dana, Brandi, Briana and Gabe (whew!) in a 4-seat box in the balcony (Wow!).  Crammy and cozy, to say the least.  I understood a bit more of the service than I had last week, but am now very interested to attend the Orthodox church in St. Cloud, when I return home, which probably involves a lot less Romanian, a lot more English, and a lot of English-speaking Orthodox believers who I can ask questions of!  

I will add more thoughts on this subject later, but I want to at least mention my recent ponderances on the subject of Orthodoxy.  Although I have considered myself to be the epitome of NON-denominational (read: anti-denominational), I have never invested the time I wish I had into a study of the theology of either the non-denom./larger protestant church or other denominations.  I am now going through my first critical, in-depth thought-process about theology in a stout little paperback called “Spirituality of the Christian East”, and find my heart resonating with much of what I read.  A lot of it is very similar to my understandings of different aspects of theology, but never have I invested the time to read a systematic (sort of) overview of even my own denomination’s theological stance.  And many of the quotes this book uses from early church fathers have struck me deeply – often conveying a beautiful, poetic and reverent understanding of ancient concepts of spirituality which resound through the ages and are present in the church of today.  Beautiful!   I will share some of those beautiful words in future posts, I hope, and probably some of the theology I have been working through, as well.  It is great stuff.  As in, I’ve been reading a head for fun because I am enthralled with theology, now that I’ve begun to read it!

So, that was a good-sized tangent.
After church, we tromped over to the parsonage, were given a short tour by Zach (it’s a beautiful place!) and then took a trip to Cafeteria Mago for coffee before a chilly stomp to our respective homes.

A lovely lovely morning, followed by a 2-hour nap, in the afternoon, which caused my host brother-in-law/brother/father (not sure what to consider him…I’m thinking brother-in-law, since I consider Mirela myhost sister more than a host-mother) considerable enjoyment.  Apparently its not normal to take naps around here, since he kept grinning and greeting me with “buna dimineața!” (good morning!) for the duration of the day.

Post-nap, I ate dinner, showered (washing my hair for the first time in weeks – I miss my dreadlocks! They made personal hygiene so much less obvious!), and have been studying verbs/reading ever since.

On Tuesday, we have a language test which I am slightly tense about.  Not nervous, exactly, because nervousness seems to imply a feeling of expectation and I have absolutely no idea what to expect.  We’ll see how that one goes…  I have my verbs and adjectives pretty well in hand, at any rate.  As long as no one asks me to conjugate them into the present tense or supply a genitive/dative pronoun.

Oh, did I tell you that I pretty much had a panic attack in our last language class, on Tuesday?  I found myself neatly lodged in a sense of complete and total confusion, to a degree which I have never before felt in my life.  In my mind was nothing (NOTHING AT ALL!) to which I could attach the page of information we were studying.  I could not even comprehend the page beyond the knowledge that it contained letters in formation; probably the scariest moment of my life, in all honesty, from a combination of stress and lack of perspective.  
In retrospect, I should have simply pulled the old “in 5 years this won’t matter – I’ll either have learned it or I won’t” move that carried me through Greek back in the day.  In actuality, I started to laugh hysterically and cry, simultaneously.  
My lack of stability and sanity has now been effectively demonstrated to my classmates and Andreea (our language teacher), and I have felt oddly myself and quite comfortable, ever since – Façade of sanity? No longer necessary. 

This post has grown disproportionately long and needs to be cut off before it takes over the blog entirely and is beyond the patience of even my most devoted reader(s?  Are we in the plurals, yet?).

Funny how a 6-page, 3,103 Word document can be the outcome of procrastination for a 400-word Beacon article… 

Gonna party like…I’m 22 (Yet another epically long story for you to read or not read, as you feel so-led!)

I completely forgot about my birthday until Thursday, when I logged into facebook and discovered that it was Elise Gotta’s birthday.  Dear Elise, my favorite Awana pal back in 4^th or 5^th grade, always constitutes my best facebook alert of impending birthday-age…after the initial delight of an almost-shared name (her first and my middle), we were thrilled to find that we also almost shared a birthday.  Ah, those were some good times!  …And I have never forgotten.  So when facebook announces that Elise has moved up a year, I realize that it is about that time of year.   Side note: I’m not actually so absent-minded that I forget my own birthday…its just that September always flies by much more quickly than expected, and I haven’t much October-warning before the 2^nd arrives.

So, Thursday comes and goes and I have been effectively reminded that I will soon have another notch in my life-tally.  Friday arrives with the topic long-since forgotten, and I make it through the day without much thought given to the subject.  

So much for the intro, let me back up now to Thursday afternoon.  We cooked pancakes and Zach’s terrible mushrooms (he bought a kilo, not knowing quite how much that was, where mushrooms were concerned).  Both turned out to be pretty fantastic, when doused (respectively) with nutella, powdered sugar and raspberry syrup or veggies and rice.  After lunch, we left Kadie with a swamp of dirty dishes due to a water outage (not all that rare, in Lupeni) and had a lovely little debrief time before tromping over to the FNO office for Experiential Education class. 

Impact and Tibi

After class, I stayed at the office for a meeting with Tibi G. before my first Impact club meeting, that evening.  We talked for over an hour before finally concluding that I would do…nothing (we are nothing if not efficient!) and then I headed to the Impact building for some quality internet time before Impact.  I was surprised to find Julie’s laptop in the back room, but thought very little of it – Julie can tend toward the absent minded side, at times.  She showed up around 6:45, though, and told me he had been back at Kadie’s to wash the dishes, prompting a horrible feeling of guilt in my stomach as I chilled and accomplished things to the exclusion of helpfulness.  The feeling was quickly forgotten, though, as the Impact kids arrived. 

Impact Club was good, even though I felt slightly awkward and spent a decent amount of time being laughed at, best I can gather, for such atrocities as standing foolishly with my eyes closed and forehead to the wall several minutes after the “Ok, open your eyes and turn around” command had been given in Romanian and obeyed by the other 9 close-eyed persons.  Nice. 
Most of the meeting was focused on an upcoming project, so I did some speedy guessing and kept up fairly well with the jist of the conversation.  =) 

After Impact, the kids moseyed their way out of the building, leaving Tibi and I to close ‘er down, lock ‘er up and head for homes. When we finished locking up the gate, Tibi announced: “lets talk!” and we proceeded to go over the entirety of the meeting as we walked and then stood at the bus stop.  An hour later, long since past the time I was expected home, Tibi finished and we went our separate ways, He ambling off cheerily toward the bus, me walking calmly until I was out of sight and then sprinting at top speed toward home in hopes of making it before the point of concern and reached true worry, for Mirela. 

Kelly and I had a brilliant plan all set for a 7:45 commencement of our daily stomp, but sometime between the time she left the impact building and the end of the evening, it was decided that she would walk Madalina to school.  So at 7:40, I shuffled my way out to the kitchen and found Florin at the table chatting with Iancu and Kelly & Mada on their way up the driveway.  That part of the story wasn’t really going anywhere…but it was fun to see Florin, Kelly’s host father, and the whole thing just got silly when Kelly and Mada opened the door and…yeah.  It was funny to me, so I typed it.  Humor lost between mind and page, I presume. 

So, we bring Mada to school and then stump off toward the Impact building.  Kelly had spent the morning and the previous evening feeling sick, probably at the hands of a couple bites of brǎnzǎ (a horrible cheese that her host grandmother, among others, assume is edible and good for people to eat.  They happen to be very very wrong in that assumption.), so we avoid as much food-related conversation and as many foodish smells as possible on our walk.   We give in, however, upon reaching the small bread store on the corner near Kadie’s apartment, and go inside to buy a couple loaves for lunch.  The lady working there was so friendly and sweet and just seemed delighted to see us.  Assuming we knew Lindsey (because everyone knows everyone in the U.S.?), she asked us about her and when she would be coming back…I DO happen to know Lindsey (ok, maybe the assumption was fair on her part…), so we passed on what we knew about her current state and intended return date (unknown). 

Note: When I say “we” in the context of speaking Romanian, it is safe to assume that what I really mean is that Kelly talked and I nodded, looked confused and exclaimed “da!” by turns.  

Anyway, apparently I look like Lindsey (“But a little shorter and a little stouter”, Kelly translated to me), which is good to know, and something I am absolutely ok with.  Maybe not so great for Lindsey, who happens to be simply gorgeous, but just nobody tell her, ok?

So, as per usual, this is getting rather long winded.  So I’m gonna go ahead and speed it up a bit. 

Tirga jiu and Horezu Once everyone had arrived, around 8:45, we piled into the FNO van, with Robi as our driver, and headed for Tirga Jui.  Alice and her parents, who are visiting for a couple weeks, accompanied us, which made for 10 persons in a 9-seat van…interesting, to be sure.  We eventually developed a good system based on a Marit/Julie/Kelly spooning sort of deal in2 of the 3 middle seats, with Alice bracing the edge person from the third seat.  Unfortunately we didn’t develop this system until an hour or so into the drive, when Zach swapped with Kelly and space to maneuver suddenly appeared (I’m not calling you fat, Zach!  You just weren’t as obviously ready to “get cozy” with the middle-seaters as an all-female group was after you were traded out!)

Worst part of the drive: Kelly, Zach, Julie and I all developed thorough cases of car-sickness.  Poor Alice was situated in the middle seat-set with 3 of the 4 sickies… =/

Delightful moment of the drive: as we pull into the city of Tirga Jiu, Zach wonders aloud “Are we in Tiramisu yet?”  No, Zach…we wish! =P

The Tr. Jiu stop consisted of a viewing of the tower of infinity (which is not actually infinite) and Tad’s presentation about the sculptor, and a trip to Kadie’s favorite public restroom.  =)  Then we piled back into the van, in a more organized manner than previously, and drove to Horezu, where we visited the monastery and purchased pottery and a garden gnome.  (Don’t worry, Mom!  I wasn’t the one who bought the gnome.)  I have some feelings/thoughts from that particular excursion that I will hopefully develop more fully in the coming weeks and intend to post when I have them pondered out a bit more.  I’ll give you the phrase I put to the feeling, as a teaser/thought provoker: “The ache of inequality.” Do with it what you will, and expect a post of the same name eventually.

We also found a lovely little park to munch some lunch in, and pulled out the loaves of bread from our earlier stop.  A whole mess of dogs offered to help us out with the bread and, as a puppy-eyes pushover, I was targeted.  They got what they wanted, and one even bit the hand that fed it (don’t worry, Mom!  He didn’t break skin, and rabies is highly unlikely).  Randomly, partway through lunch it came out that Kelly had also gone back to Kadie’s apartment with Julie to help with dishes the afternoon before.  When I heard that, I felt like even more of a slacker than I had before, but the feeling was cut short by an announcement from Kadie which a less “foolish & deluded bear of no brain at all” would have thought much of: “I love secrets, but I’m so BAD at them!”  Strangely enough, I thought absolutely nothing of this, despite the hushings and “Kadie!”s from Julie and Kelly. 

Quotes from lunch: “Its horrible that they don’t have ground turkey there.” –Kadie, to Dana who had called her instead of Brandi (his wife), by mistake.
“Go kill cats.” –Zach, to passel of hungry dogs who had better luck at y end of the table.
“Nah, I like Cornnuts! …Oh, hornets!” –Kadie, over(mis)hearing a Zach comment along the lines of “hornets are bad.”

The trip home was uneventful and mostly car-sickness free.  When we arrived back in Lupeni, we drove to Kadie & Alice’s apartment bloc, where we planned to eat dinner (Pizza from Mama Mia’s!).  I tromped up to the apartment with Julie, Kelly and Zach, but once we got there, Julie recommended that she and I go pick up drinks from one of the places down the street.  When e returned, Zach & Kelly had shut themselves in the living room and wouldn’t let anyone in, which was really strange to me, and Julie tried to convince me to go to the Impact building with her in search of a bottle of strawberry syrup to mix with Sprite, which was even more strange to me, since Julie more than anyone else hates opening up the impact building. 

When Kelly and Zach finally let us into the living room, there were streamers on the ceiling.  And I thought nothing at all of it.  2 beats later, though, I was both surprised and had an “aha! I understand” moment:  My dear fellow students and program administrator burst into a chorus of “Happy Birthday to You!” and pointed out a “Happy Birthday Marit!” banner on the wall.

I felt properly dense, when I thought back on the plentiful clues I could have caught throughout the day.  I think they were pretty pleased with themselves, though, and with my especial idiocy in the realm of catching on.  =)  Kelly and Julie had been busy baking cookie-dough brownies, not washing dishes, the afternoon before, I discovered.  This is a particularly neat stunt in a land of no chocolate chips (seriously!).

The evening was wonderful.  Kelly even called her host mother, Andreea, who called my host mother, Mirela, to tell her not to worry about me/wait up for me, which eased my mind greatly and made the night just perfect!  It sounds like such a little thing, but for a worrier like me, it was a great gift to be able to enjoy the night without fears of distressing someone else.

We played hand and foot.  Only two rounds, but for a group of 2 old-time players and 4 newbs (that’s for you, Zach!), it was fairly time-consuming.  And a blast!

I brought a chunk of leftover brownie back to Iancu and Mirela and attempted one of my Romanglish notes explaining what it was and from whence it hailed before brushing my teeth and collapsing into bed.

Birthday
And today, I woke up at 7 am, due to a pressing desire to dislodge my head from the pace between my bed-side and dresser, and was awake enough that I decided to get up and ready to go a bit early.  I tromped to the Impact building to skype with Daniel at 9.  My walk was perfect, although a bit chilly, and I had a nice 45-minutes of prayer to begin my 23^rd year.  It was great to have a bit of extra time before 9, also, to turn in a journal assignment for Romanian Culture and History and read a couple of birthday emails – from my family and my grandmother!  Thanks guys!  They were lovely and a great way to start the day!

Skype was acting up, as per usual, so Dan & I were not able to actually converse, but instead typed back and forth for some time.  While we talked, Tad arrived and a bit later Julie as well.  After my conversation finished, we froze our toes off for an hour or so longer, while working on Experiential Education papers and then finally gave up, went wimp, and headed to Café Mago for lunch. 

I realized on my walk home, after leaving Julie & Tad after lunch, that I was in a rather iffy mood (so apologies, Tad & Julie), and was anxious to be home…  I have been missing people and familiar places, of late, so please keep me in your prayers for culture shock, or whatever this is.  I am reaching a point where, although I enjoy my host home quite a bit, I am on a bit of a plateau, language-wise and feel like my communication with Iancu and Mirela has been decreasing, instead of increasing.  I hope to amend the situation in the week and a half I have remaining to me, but am also ready to move to the apartments for a sense of “my space”.  Prayers appreciated for continuing energy in interaction and communication with my family here, and for other homesickness-related issues. 

And thank you for the lovely birthday wishes! 

Oh, did I mention that I bought a pipe?  Yep!  Zach & I had been Pipe-hunting for some time (‘cause come on, what’s more fun than owning a pipe?) and ended up finding a pipe-source in Horezu, where between three of us, we walked away with 5 delightful, hand-carved pipes!  Probably this would be even more exciting to an actual pipe-smoker, but I’m pretty sure it was still the best birthday present I’ve ever given to myself. 

With hugs a plenty,
Marit