4 a.m.

There have been few things that I can recall waking up for at 4 a.m. A flight to Las Vegas, a hike in the mountains, maybe a sunrise but never in my life did I ever think I would be waking up at 4 a.m. to attend a church service! Here in the village, it is 110% Romanian Orthodox and that is what they do and have been doing for generations on Easter Sunday, waking up before dawn and heading to the church for the Resurrection of Christ... something I felt I should experience. Generally speaking I do not go to church on Sundays or on any of the Saint's days that occur through out the year...ok so I have been once since I arrived back in August of 2007. Because of my lack of attendance I receive a lot of questions about my religion, everyone thinks because I am American I am catholic. Just as they are getting all wound up to tell me why Romanian Orthodox is the truth and Catholicism is not, I inform them that I am not catholic...which I think kind of disappoints most of them. Next on the "stereotypical religion of an American" list is Baptist, which was a bit of a shocker for me...but again it is another disappointing no. I have always been told it is not polite to discuss politics, money and religion with people you don't really know or in general for that matter. This is a glaring cultural difference between Romanians and Americans and one that I am still having a hard time getting used to. With out a doubt, one of the first questions I was asked when I arrived in the village was "how much is your salary as a English teacher?" When I confuse them and tell them that I am a volunteer thus without a salary, I receive a "why in the world would you ever work for free" kind of look then am asked how much does a teacher make in the States? Every time I am asked about my family, I am interrupted in the middle of my description by "how much does your father make a month? Your Mother? Your Sister? Her husband? Your brother? Their neighbor's distant 3rd cousin? After I fumble around with a some what Politically Correct response...usually pleading that I don't know, it is not discussed and I have lost touch with our neighbors distant 3rd cousin, naturally leaving them unsatisfied, it jumps directly to Religion. So as I was saying, since I am neither catholic nor baptist next on the list is a Muslim, which I find incredibly interesting as well. To their credit they are not tyring to convert me, although I was told it could happen with the snap of a finger, they are just really curious. Generally I am able to beat around the bush long enough and explain that in the States there are representations of all kinds of religions and that I respect their beliefs and customs. Inevitably, they get bored with this non imformative answer and the subject is changed to Politics or why I am not married yet! Like I was saying before, these peoples religion and beliefs play a major role in their lives and I felt like I should try a bit harder to understand more about them. Thus, I made my appearance Easter Sunday morning at 4 a.m. looking sharp in a fresh pair of slacks, dress shirt and traditional style hat that the men wear in the summer months in this region, and was a gift from my host family! Before we left the house, a hand crafted bag was stuffed to the brim with homemade breads, meats, cheeses, colored hard boiled eggs and a bottle of red wine. A small wicker basket was also filled with the same tasty delights but was also decorated with a large white candle jetting out of the top. On the way to the Church in the center of the village, all the people were dressed in their traditional clothing and own bags and baskets in hand. The typical "good morning" was not used once it was replaced by a biblical "Christ has risen" followed then by "It is true, he has risen." This greeting will be used for the next 7 weeks after Easter sunday...dont worry I practiced the night before so I didn't blow it! The church service was jammed packed with a lot of new faces...because of the Village's traditional customs many Romanians from the big cities come into town to experience a Traditional Easter with warm welcoming people, fresh air and of course horlinka. It was a very impressive service that last about 4 hours...I was offered a seat on one of the highly sought after benches from one of my neighbors, SCORE! All of the baskets and bags spilling over with food and drink were placed along side the perimeter of the Church and the last part of the service involves the priest going outside and blessing them with nag-champa like incense and holy water. Immediately following the service everyone fills the streets slowly finding their way home to break the 7 week fast of not eating meat products or drinking alcohol. My traditional hat was a huge hit as was my appearance at the service. Once at home, we ate a tremendous amount of meat, cheese, eggs, cakes, pies and cracked open bottles of wine, beer and horlinka. By the time 10:30 a.m rolled around I was back in bed full to the brim and fast asleep until later that afternoon. Easter officially lasts for 3 days here...sunday, monday and tuesday. So for three days I went to church and for three days we all ate way too much food and probably drank way too much drink. My attendance at church was noticed by everyone which lead to a lot of people wondering why I was absent yesterday (Sunday May 4th, the first sunday after easter). Regardless if I dug myself in a hole or not, I was very happy to experience the one part of village life I have not really been apart of and has helped me become more apart of the community than I was already.


PS - in theme with my last entry "breathe" I wanted to add these thoughts...Ciao

"Breathe, breathe in the air
Don't be afraid to care
Leave but don't leave me
Look around and chose your own ground
For long you live and high you fly
And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry
And all you touch and all you see
Is all your life will ever be"
- Pink Floyd

Breathing

"Don't go too fast, but not too slow...not too much to the left but not too much to the right...hold the reins firm but not too firm...don't worry it is easy!" I managed to squeak out a passive "ce ma," we started to move a bit and then finally I breathed. The elderly man behind the horses, maneuvering the plough with the greatest of ease as if it were an extension of his arms let out a roaring "Bravo Alexandru, Bravo!" Although I was breathing again I don't think my heart had restarted and despite the damp April weather my hands were sweating ice cold bullets. We had not reached the end of the field when I began wondering how in the hell I was going to turn these two horses attached to a plow attached to an old man around in a single, swift manor that is mandatory when ploughing a field. With my anxiety filling the air the old man shouted with a large grin, "Don't forget to Breathe...they can smell fear!" I let out a kind of laugh you let out when your standing on the edge of an open airplane door at 13,000 feet with a parachute strapped to your back. With a more commanding "ce ma!" than before and a meaningful few jerks of the reins I maneuvered a respectful left turn and had the team of myself, horses, plough and old man all lined up for the next row of soil to be plowed. I had regained my composure, heartbeat and confidence with a couple more successful rows and I was on cruise control! A crowd of spectators began to form at the far gate with cheers of "Bravo Americano," "Good Job" and my favorite "what the hell is the Americano doing this time!" Naturally, just when I was feeling as if I was a natural horse trainer, one of the horses leaned over to the other and give her a little "kiss" as they call it in the village but it is more of a nip on the ear than a kiss and the victimized horse let out a piercing "AHHHHHH" but in horse talk and started to get on her hind legs! With one hand yanking hard on the reins, the other with the whip smacking the "spirited" horse on the nose and my voice yelling whatever came to mind which I think was a mix of half English and half Romanian I had everything under control. Well except the old man, who was laughing so hard tears were forming in the corners of his eyes and could not catch his breathe to say a word if his life depended on it. Then the thundering laughs of the spectators entered my ears and there was nothing else to do but laugh with them. If there is one piece of advice that I could give to anyone thinking about joing the Peace Corps or going to live in another culture or just a piece of advice for general everyday life...it would be you must have a sense of humility about yourself. Once the old man regained his compose he walked up to me, patted me on the back and laughed out "you should have seen your face when that horse yelled out, it was white as a ghost, ha ha ha." Then he, said with a proud grandfatherly tone, "but you did what you had to do, you got'em back under control and back on track...good job." This was my first time ever leading the horses by myself and I was nervous, to say the least. Horses are unbelievable animals. They are so intelligent and have such strong senses, the old man was not lying when he told me they can smell fear. Not to mention that they are powerful, powerful animals, as well as valuable merchandise to the family who own them. So when the old man told over a cup of coffee before we left for the fields that he had a surprise for me I never imagined it would be teaching me to handle the horses. Village life is very hands on, out of necessity. There are not seminars on "wood chopping safety," courses in "Barn construction 101" nor are there permits given for horse drawn wagons to those who pass a driving test...you just do it and figure it out along they way and hopefully learn from your mistakes. Unfortunately as a result of these methods most men over the age of 30 are missing one tip of a finger from a table saw accident and some barns sway in the strong summer thunderstorms as if they were dancing with the rhythm of the rain drops. However, in this situation of me learning to work with the horses, it is the only way to learn. The old man began with me just talking to the horses, petting them, brushing them and feeding them from my hand. This he told me develops the trust between the horses and their leader that is mandatory for productive work. Next he instructed me on how to attach the reins to the horses heads and just had me lead them to a nearby creek for a quick drink of water. After the "introduction" it was up to me, I had to make the blind jump, head first into unknown waters. And that is exactly what I did, I jumped head first with out reservation and I will damned if I did not take my first giant step at learning how to lead a horse. Don't get me wrong, I was scared as all hell when that horse acted a little spirited but if I had not had that experience I never would have known how to react...thankfully she did not land on my foot or become too rowdy. The old man said she was testing me because I was a new scent and she wanted to see how I would react...after that I swear she had a bit of a cocky smirk on her long face, almost mocking me! On my walk home after the long adventurous day, everyone on the street told me that the color on my face was back to normal form, undoubtedly everyone in the village heard of my experience today and I am sure had a laugh or two. To me this is a direct indication of my integration into the village life. If I were to get discouraged at every laugh I heard at my expense because of a mispronounced word, piece of mischoped wood, unusual eating habits (ketchup on eggs is not standard here), and smoked filled room because I forgot to open the vent in my wood burning stove before starting the fire, I would have returned to the States a long time ago. Instead, I look at it from their perspective and realize that if I were in their shoes and saw some long haired americano standing outside his house while smoke was clearing out from every window I would laugh too. I also believe that I have earned my place in the village from gaining their respect and confidence. Just like with the horses, I take time to talk with them, eat their food, drink their drink and invest my sweat into their work. Probably the greatest compliment I received that day was when the old man told me "you did what you had to do and you figured it out." This is what I do everyday to a certain extent and at least so far I have done what I have had to do and I have figured it out...(well at least I have figured somethings out, I have not figured "it" out whatever "it" is).

City Slicker

A little hitch hiking and 4 hours on a bus next thing you know you have arrived in Cluj. Cluj is a great university city just south of the village on the far northern edge of the famous Transylvania region. I decided that I needed bit of a break from all of the fresh air the village has to offer and get back to civilisation for a few days. Cluj has a lot to offer...shops, restaurants, a night life and even starbucks (the second one in Romania)! Oh and Obviously a plethora of internet cafes. So that gets us up to speed to where I currently am. So now for a brief update on the last couple of weeks.
So I thought digging a 1/2 meter deep trench was back breaking...little did I know that filling it in would be just as tiring if not more. We laid the plastic piping from the source of the spring all the way down to a valley where more pipes will be needed to led to the respective homes. All in all we laid and re-filled 100 meters of pipe and dirt respectively. I was given a spade and slap on the back and we got started. My hands became blistered despite the nice hard layer of Clausius they have developed from all the wood I have chopped, but I kept on. That afternoon was quite unusual, it rained, snowed, hailed, the sun shined and there were bouts of wind that almost knocked me over. Just I as I was hitting my stride we broke for lunch, which because of the fast going on consisted of bean soup, garlic and orange soda...a far cry from the traditional "mountain spread" consisting of pig fat, smoked sausages and horlinka...however it satisfied the emptiness in my stomach. Just as it was digging the trench, filling it in takes no special talent, just a lot of elbow grease and back breaking effort. Everyone on the hillside laughed as they asked me if I has ever done this type of work before in the States. This was a saturday and as with every saturday around 6:30 - 7:00 pm a bell rings out from the church letting everyone know to cease whatever work they are doing and go home, relax and clean up for Sunday, the day of church, family and cabbage rolls. We still had a touch of work left as well as a ray of sun still shining from the fast sinking sun when we heard the bell ringing off the mountain side. Immediately, all of the women with us dropped their shovel or spade and said good night. I was exhausted, really really exhausted, but I just wanted to finish and not have to worry about coming back up here the following week. So being the team player that I am and the only one of the troop who is not Orthodox I keep the spade in my hand and kept rocking. All the old women told me that I did not have the permission from god to keep working but I joked back that I didn't understand what they were saying in Romanian and that because I was not Orthodox I was cool...one of the benefits of speaking more than one language! Finally we finished filling in the trench, all 100 meters and needless to say I sleep damn good that night! I could not bend my fingers the next day, or my body for that matter... however I always feel better about stuffing my face with cabbage rolls on Sunday after a hard days work.
With Easter on its way, we have 8 lambs running around the barn and just as a couple of days ago a baby goat which I just looked up and is called a kid on english. We started off with a set of twin lambs and then over the course of the last 3 weeks every so often there would be another one on the barn floor in the morning. They are amazingly playful, soft and cute. For the first 6-8 weeks they are not able to eat anything but their mothers milk and cows milk out of a bottle. I have been assisting the two boys with this process, which is not as easy as one would think. The lambs and kid do not stay in the same part of the barn as their moms, because other moms will kick them and be abusive. Therefore, when it is time to feed the lambs we bring the mothers into one part of the barn from the field and then go after the lambs and kid. However, the lambs and the kid stay in the same part of the barn as the horse and cow, but in a separate compartment. We have to be careful when letting the lambs out because they spook the horse who could easily crush them with her hooves and from the cow who tries to gore them every chance she gets. Finally once the are in with their mothers they feed and then we have to separate them and put them outside. This is the best part of me. Once away from their moms the start running wildly and jumping every where. If you run with them they get even crazier and more out of control. After a bit of play time they are carefully guided back to their pin where they await the cows milk. I have been assigned this task which I signed up for but had no idea what I was getting myself into. As soon as those lambs see the bottle of warm cows milk the all attack me and try to climb up my legs, in my boots and over whoever is in their path to the milk. Once one has a hold of the nipple on the bottle, others push, shove, bite, do whatever is necessary to saviour a taste. The even resort to biting at my pants which scared the hell out of me the first time and brought tears to my families eyes because they laughed so hard. As hazardous as it is with those sweet Innocent lambs and kid I love doing it and look forward to it every night. Oh also, in my two attempts at milking the cow I have failed miserably, not even a drip comes out! I try to warm up to her before but she as nothing to do with me, I think she is playing hard to get. Maybe some candles and a glass of wine would help?

Ciao, SUTW & Keep smiling

"Pickles! Why wouldn't we want Pickles!"

I hope this find all who read it well and good! I have not been able to write in awhile but today the internet is working, at least for the time being, and it is raining outside so no work to do outside. Life has been really good. I have summited the highest peak in the surrounding mountains, it was not very high however there was plenty of snow which made it very challenging. Every step I took I would sink about 2-3 feet down and have to lift my foot up and over the next bundle of snow. I really enjoyed it, I am all ready planning trips to other parts of Romania for summer excursions. I went with the husband of the family I live with, his brother, a neighbor and one of the boys I live with. On the way up to the peak we came across these concrete blocks along the road. I asked what these were or what they will be for. I was informed that during Communism these were electricity poles but after the revolution, even though they worked perfectly well they were destroyed just from what they represented. As we continued up the mountain we came across old abandoned buildings, again I asked what these were. They used to be check points before the revolution, anyone and/or thing crossing these mountains would be checked and as one of the men said, forced to pay a bribe to the patrol not matter if you had papers or not. I have not asked too many questions about the days before the revolution, but on this day the men spoke freely and with a lot of emotion. It was way more than a sunday afternoon hike, this was a real life history lesson! Since then, I have helped put in new fence poles and fence, I have dug over 65 yards of ditch to lay a pipe that will send water from a natural spring in the mountains to a certain part of the village. By the way I have a whole new respect for ditch digging, no two ways about it, it is just back breaking work! The weather has been mild and with a lot of rain. The kids as well as I have spring fever. Everyone is fasting for Easter, April 27th in the Orthodox calendar here. For seven weeks, people do not eat any animal products or drink alcohol! Fortunatly, not everyone is required to follow this fast, for example long haired, American teachers are exempt, but I am abiding 50/50. I am enjoying the break from the pig fat and horlinka but I have already eaten some chicken and some cheese, opps! Well I hope all is well for everyone and keep smiling!

PS - the title of this post is a direct quote from the husband of the family I live with. One evening after coming home from the forest we were all eating and Angela, his wife asked if anyone would like pickles with the food. Ion responded with "Pickles! Why wouldn't we want pickles!?" I dont know maybe you had to be there but we all laughed until we were red in the face, or maybe it is just funnier with horlinka! Oh and the pickles here are to die for, homemade with plenty of deliciousness

SUTW

What a great Day!

In honor of Valentines Day I had the kids I teach make "I Love..." Poems. Simply enough they were asked to write "I Love" 25 times on a piece of paper and then fill in the blanks with what they love. Ion in 5th grade asked me what Love is. I answered his question with the Romanian translation for love. He looked at me kind of confussed and said "no I know what the word is in Romanian, but what does love mean?" I laughed a bit and thought to myself what did I get myself into! At first the kids were a bit shy but once I started writing a couple of my "I love" lines they felt much more comfortable and started to write. Except for the couple of kids who copied their neighbors lines the rest really put a lot of thought and effort into there work...can't win all the battles, at least they are writing in English. From my experience in the Romanian school system, creativity is not practiced and/or encouraged. I am trying really hard to change those ideals but it will not happen over night. Most of my fellow teachers think I am a bit crazy for doing things like poems, song lyrics and other "new aged" teaching methods such as walking around the classroom interacting with the kids instead of staying at the black board in front of the room and lecturing. Even the majority of my students did not understand when I ask them a very subjective question such as "What you do prefer ketchup or mustard?" and tell them there is no right or wrong answer. Even with the "I love..." poems I had a student ask if her line "I love pizza" was correct or wrong. I was blown away at how into these poems the kids were and how many questions I received about word translations, they were really trying to expnad their vocabulary. Some of the highlights that were written were as follows...

*I love Love - Amazing!
*I love my cell phone charger - When asked why, this student resonded "because with out the charger my cell phone will not work and I won't be able to text message...good point I thought.
*I love my english teacher - An "A" for her
*I love the color of the sky everyday - A Romanian Bob Dylan

That night I stayed up very proud of my successful lesson writing my own "I Love..." Poem...

I love my family
I love my friends
I love Chipotle Burritos
I love traveling
I love being told I can not do something
I love sun rises
I love sun sets
I love the mountains
I love the beach
I love to laugh
I love to smile
I love to love
I love to be loved
I love to day dream
I love my brother's laugh
I love living in my village in Romania
I love being outside
I love Music
I love playing the same great song on repeat
I love t-shirts and jeans
I love reading the New York Times
I love to be curious
I love to explore
I love the sound of accustic guitars
I love to be challenged
I love the feeling of nerves, excitement, happiness, sadness anything that is real
I love not being told what to do
I love to drive with the windows down
I love road trips
I love making mistakes and learning from them
I love to get lost
I love what I am doing
I love LIfe
I love to Shake Up the World

Much Love to all :)

Every Little Thing is Going to be Alright

2008 is only a month old, but what I year it has already been! I had a wonderful visit back to the States for the holidays. It was so nice to be with family and friends that I had not seen in many months and/or years. My travels back to Romania were long, tiring, adventourous, fun, eventul and did I mention tiring?! Despite the 3 days of no sleep and going from Planes, trains to automobiles I arrived into the village with a smile on my face and plenty of questions to answer. Everyone was so curious about my visit to the states, if I had fun, what I did for christmas and New Years?, How was my family?, How were my friends?, Do you have pictures?, How was Las Vegas?, Did I drink a lot of whiskey?, Was I glad to be back in the village?, did I get married while I was home?, and plenty of others. For my first week back, I spent the majoirity of it trying to lose the jet-lag that filled my head and get back into the lifestyle that is the village. Naturally, everyone was concerned I did not have "fresh food" while I was home, meaning village food. As a result every house I passed would command me to the dinner table for more than enough pork, potatoes, cabbage rolls and of course horlinka...I did not complain! All of my kids were excited to have me back in school, they all were very curious about my travels and when I showed them on a world map the travels I had made in the last 3 weeks the intrigue flowed even more. 99% of my kids have not even been to another city than one 60km from the village, much less out of the country, none of them could not even comprehend the roads I had traveled in a short time, but it was a great teaching lesson! Ever since my return, I have had parents coming up to me saying that their son doesn't want to get his hair cut and wants to go to Budapest, Hungry for summer vacation...opps so much for a good influeance at least they are saying please and thank you now!
Once my head cleared of the jet-lag and I caught up on my sleep, I picked up right where I left off, helping with whatever needs to be done. At the house, we were in need of some fire wood, wood for a new fence and wood to use for building a new room in the attic of the house I live in, in other words we needed wood. Therefore, one friday morning Ion (the husband of the family I live with), Vasile (the brother-in-law of Ion) and I took off to a specific part of the forest in the surrounding mountains. We left the house at the crack of dawn with an old creeky wagon attached to two dark brown beautiful horses. Straped on the wagon was a chainsaw, bought in the Ukraine and smuggled into Romania but with a sticker on it "Made in Tucson, AZ"!) two freshly sharpend axes and one very excited American. The journey to the part of the forest that we needed to get to was a long, bumpy one with a lot of snow and ice that tripped me up more than it did the horses, in all it was probably a 5 mile treck. It was crisp, clear and cold as the Mountain air chapped our noses and cheeks but the warmth of the sun was on the rise. Once, we arrived at out destination I dried off the horses with their respective blankets after which I placed on their backs to keep them warm while they ate. Ion gathered some hay from a feeding post while vasile loosed the riens in the horses mouthes to allow them to eat easier. Obvoiusly, Ion and Vasile knew exactly what they were doing, where as I was all eyes and ears as it was my first time chopping down a tree. You can imagine it is not rocket science cutting down a tree but as with anything there is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things, Ion and Vasile do things the right way. I was in charge of clearing the snow from the base of the tree we desired and to chop away the first couple inches of bark from the ground. After which, Ion cut a wedge into the base with the chain saw in the direciton he wanted it to fall and then finally another wedge on the other side of the tree then...TIMBER! Once the tree fell, Vasile and I, with the axes, shaved all the branches from the trunk and then cleared a path for the horses and wagon. All in all we cleared five trees for the forest, 3 of them being at least 8 feet long and each weighing way more than I ever thought 3 people could lift. Once again, my perception was wrong! After lunch, which consited of pig fat back, onions, bread, creek water and a shot of horlinka we discussed what trees would be placed first on the wagon, well Ion and Vasile discussed but I was attentivly listening. Again not rocket science, the largest trees go on the bottom and the lighest/smaller ones on top. Vasile went after a couple of the larger branches that we cut off before lunch. Two of the branches were angled off at their ends and laid at an angle on the side of the wagon near the front and another at the back, creating a kind of ramp. I stuck my branch under the trunk first and pushed up as well as I could, next Vasile stuck his branch under the tree and pushed as best he could, then Ion doing the same, then the process returned to me and we continued this progression until the trunk was rolled right up on the two branches making the ramp. After this, we practiced the same methods until the trunk rolled up on the ramp and then just kept lifting and pushing, lifting and pushing until that son of a bitch was on the wagon! Words do not do this practice justice and trust me there were a lot worse words that came out of all our mouthes than son of a bitch! We did this four more times, each time the trunks getting a little lighter and smaller but my legs and back getting a little more tired. These horses were unbelieveable, they were pulling this load of lumber down these narrow, steep trails with snow, ice and mud with out much of a concern. I will admit I was completly exhuasted on our journey back to the village and the sun was begining to set with the cold airbeginging to fill the air. We were just about to the main path of the village when I could smell the burning of all wood on the stove when suddenly I heard a loud "POP." After, Vasile asked me what "OH SHIT" meant in Romanian, we realized one of the tires on the wagon had blown. I was a little more than curious about what we were to do and a bit frustrated, I was looking forward to a hot feast of bean soup, fried pork and horlinka. I looked to Ion and Vasile with a look of "what now?" and immeadiatly we began to laugh out loud like crazy men. I am pretty sure they both said somethings that would translate to some very inappropriate words in english and then Vasile reached into his jacket, pulled out a quarter liter bottle of horlinka and said with a huge smirk and his shoulders raised "Ce se facem?"...."what are we going to do?" and their we sat watching the sunset over the far mountains passing the bottle until there was no more. We pushed off the top three trunks and very carefully took the horses and wagon with the remaining two trunks to the barn. The whole path back to the barn other villagers were asking us what happened and if we knew we had a flat tire, as if they had the nerve, ha ha. I really believe that nights sleep was the best I have ever had in my life! The next morning we fixed the flat and went back after our lumber without any kind of problem. I really admired Ion and Vasile on the way the handled this adversity. I know I was frustrated and saying some pretty nasty things under my breath and they obviously have way more invested in this wood than I do and it would have been easy for them to get mad and upset, or atleast understandable. However, as is the general attitude of the people of the village, what good would that do, it isn't going it fix the flat tire and I think it helped we had the horlika! I have since been back to the forest one other time with Ion and Vasile and I will continue to go as often as I can, I love it out there. Also, I hleped kill the family pig and even assisted in the butchering and making of sausages and have been helping a friend of mine with the construction of his new house. Oh and you will all be happy to know that while I was gone for christmas the driver of the van that takes villegers to the city put in wooden benches in the van, so no more potato sacks for me! LIFE IS GOOD !!

Ciau

"Oh The night, here it comes again..."

My eyes are heavy like 5:30 a.m., and they get even heavier when I ask what time it is and I hear 4:30 a.m! At this point, my exhaustion of being awake for the past 24 hours nor the bitter cold of a Budapest morning in mid December could ruin this moment. I am drinking a bottle of wine, out of the bottle, with people who were complete strangers one hour ago on the banks of the Danube River. The city's morning commute is coming to a crawl and if not for the Gothic clouds above, the sun would be rising. What a way to spend my first 3 hours in Budapest! Budapest is an extraordinary city, with an abundance of culture and warm people. Even though the sun did not shine once the whole time I was there, the endless holiday decorations, hot spiced wine (red & white) and a visit to the natural hot springs made up for it. Going from village life to Budapest was a complete 180 degree turn, but Budapest was just the beginning...up next the 12 hour plane ride back to the States for the first time in 7 months!
A window seat has never felt so good. With sounds of the captain saying "blah, blah...Amsterdam direct to Detroit, MI...blah, blah" I got really excited thinking about heading back to the States for the holidays and what my life will be like over there while I am home. Then, I also got really excited about thinking back at my last 7 months in Romania and all that has happened, been accomplished and all that is my life over there. Finally, I just smiled...about life in general and how much I really love what I am doing and what I am doing with "my life." The old Scottish man seating next to me took his eyes from his novel and asked me what I was smiling about. I chuckled and replied, "where should I begin?" His interest grew even stronger and then asked, "Where are you from and where have you been?" Again, I laughed and replied with a proud smile, "Where should I begin?" After he closed his book and removed his glasses he simply said "how about you start at the beginning?" He was a bit confused at how I started the year 2007 living in downtown Detroit, working at a bar to now finishing the year 2007 teaching english in a tiny village in Northern Romania. But what really threw him for a loop was when I described him the village I live in with the wood burning stoves, fresh cows milk, the Clausius on my hands from chopping wood, my daily meals of pig fat back and being the one and only english speaker, all with a sparkle in my eye. He is mystified that one, I would volunteer to leave the United States for a tiny village in Romania and two, I actually enjoy it. I ask for a glass of sparkling water as he demands a lemon with his pepsi light (diet pepsi) and I continue on with my endless accounts of new experiences. It seems he is genuinely interested and inquires about my favorite part of living in Romania and I respond rather quickly without even having to think about it..."top 5 in no particular order, my village, the landscape (mountains etc.), the food, the culture and the horlinka." Obviously, he wants to know more about the horlinka, but I tell him words won't do it justice so I wont try, just know it is Delicious! The old man comments, I speak very passionately about my experiences and my new life in Romania, I agree and ask if he is going to eat his bag of peanuts because I am absolutely starving. The food on the plane was quite nice, luckily I went with the pasta and boy was I glad, I peaked at the lady's chicken in front of me on my way to the restroom and it looked a bit like a piece of cardboard, we even got ice cream for dessert, it was chocolate...but that is neither here nor there. So, just as I grab my headphones and my ipod the old scot asks me what I have learned from my time and experiences in Romania thus far. I put the Ryan Adams on pause and listed of few things that come to mind...patience, flexibility, open-mindness, love, perseverance, not being afraid to fail, confidence, how to dig up potatoes, to make hay, drive a horse and wagon, simplicity, serenity, make cement, self reflection, to chop wood, speak Romanian, trust strangers (but not just any stranger), adaptation and a new culture just to name a few. He nods approvingly and I begin to hum "La cienega just smiled" when I lean over and say "Oh ya, and I have found I'm much happier when I'm living my life with passion for what I am doing and with a smile on my face."
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Detroit, Metro airport in the United States of America...local time is blah, blah and customs this and customs that..." It feels good to be home...


- Peace & Love in the New Year -