Quote of the Day...Maybe of the Year

Nu Mai Bine

To say I have a holiday hangover is a vast understatement! Holiday season 2008 is in the books and I have to say it went down as one of the most unique holidays of my life. If I could not have been back in Michigan with my family, then there is no other place I would have rather been, than here in the village. I was not really feeling the Christmas Cheer, as the December 25th was only a week away. I am so used to being back in Michigan, with all the decorations, Christmas songs and fighting the crowds as Somerset mall picking up last minute Christmas gifts it was difficult to find it. The Monday before Christmas Day, I was sent to Sighet, the closest big city to me about 50 km away, by my host family to pick up some last minute items. I thought the lines at J.Crew were long the last few days before Christmas, but they don’t even come close to chaos that was at one of the major grocery stores in Sighet! Literally it was shoulder to shoulder, grandmas fighting over tomatoes and old men filling their arms with cases of beer, and that was just in the aisles. I waited in line for over one hour in line to pay and they had about 10-12 cashiers open and running…it was the kind of Christmas spirit I needed! I arrived home stressed out, over whelmed and wet…it poured cats and dogs all freaking day, but it was feeling a bit more like Christmas. Tuesday morning I woke up to help put the finishing touches on our Christmas tree…which was hand cut and dragged from one of the surrounding forests, just a quick side note, we had this tree for 4-5 weeks, not once was it put in water and even the day we took it down there was not one pine needle that fell from it, talk about organic…any way, I woke up to a winter white wonderland. Just in time for the big day, the rain and mud turned to huge snowflakes and ice! A few of my friends who were staying in Romania for the holidays decided to come up for all of the traditions. As they trickled in on Christmas Eve, all the kids were getting ready for the big day of caroling. The boys I live with made the opportunistic decision of “quantity not quality”, meaning instead of focusing on the houses that traditional give the big bucks, they were just going to hit up every singe house in the village. The young children start caroling in the early afternoon so they are not out all night, followed by the adults in the evening. I had built up this caroling thing pretty big in my own head but also to all my friends who came to visit, I did not let them down! It was almost 11:03 p.m. when “our” troop of carolers arrived at our house, as we were the first of the houses on the list. As the group of about 25 villagers caroled on our door step, I was running around like a mad man on direct orders from Ion to find as many shot glasses as I could find and the largest bottle of horlinka we had, let the night begin. It was difficult to properly introduce all of my American and Danish friends…one of my Peace Corps buddies who came up brought two of his buddies from Denmark…I was not sure how it was all going to work, the Danes did not know more than 3 ½ words in Romanian, I was not sure how comfortable the others were with their Romanian and the villagers don’t speak English. As I was giving hugs and kisses to all my villager friends I noticed out of the corner of my eye, Angela’s brother Vasile, right in the middle of the clump of Americans and Danes shot in hand, yelling “La Multi Ani” I should have known better, horlinka brings everyone together, it really builds bridges between cultures and languages! It is difficult to explain in words the amount of hospitality, warmth and openness these people have in the village, you really have to be here to see it, sense it and most of all feel it. There was not one moment of awkwardness. Immediately, my friends from the village were talking with my American and Danish friends, offering them their seat at the table, their food and their drink…in their own house non the less. In total, there were nine houses to be visited, I remember walking between our first or second house and all my English speaking friends coming up to me with their cheeks a bit rosier from a combination of the crisp cool winter and moonshine strong horlinka saying they have never seeing anything like this.

One thing about strong traditions, there is not much variety. Each and every house was exactly the same thing…the same carol at the door step, shots of horlinka, followed by glasses of beer, all the cabbage rolls you could eat, appetizer meat balls and cheeses on the table all capped off with cakes and pies…don’t get me wrong, every thing I just mentioned was absolutely amazing but it was just interesting how not one house varied from the program! At the first two houses, us English speakers were making an effort to pick up a few words of the Romanian Carol that was being sung but this was made a bit more difficult after a few shots of horlinka. On the other hand, after a few shots of horlinka, the confidence and courage levels tend to rise, thus we eventually piped out a Christmas carol or two in English. However, the highlight of the night was having my two Danish friends sing Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer in Dutch, defiantly a first in the village! I was unable to complete the full circuit of all nine houses, as one of the Danes had had his fill of all the food and drink and thought it wise to head home…I wont lie it is probably best that I did not continue on to the last two houses either. I told him I would walk him back to the house, when he insisted that he knew the way back and that he would be fine, a perfect example of the liquid courage effect that is horlinka…on the walk back I asked him at each intersection whether the house was to the left or right, was it this house or the next…it was good I walked him back, if not he may have ended up sleeping in a pig trough somewhere! Needless to say we did not make it to the Christmas morning service at the church. Christmas day is just like Christmas Eve, in the sense that children do some more caroling, as do the adults who have rebounded from the night before.

I have a Peace Corps neighbor, Ben, in a village about 8 km away from my village. He also had some other Peace Corps Volunteers come up for Christmas. We decided we would all meet up on Christmas day for a little gift exchange. After shaking some of the cobwebs out of our head Christmas afternoon, my friends and I made the hike over to Botiza. The fresh air was nice and it helped to get the blood pumping a bit after the previous night. Once we arrived at Ben’s apartment, we sat around and chatted about how much fun Caroling was the night before, ate homemade Christmas cookies and eventually opened up our respective gifts...it was really nice spending the holiday with everyone there because we were all in the same boat, away from home for the holidays but together in Romania.

As the weekend after Christmas arrived, all of my friends had left, I finally had my own house to myself…I gave it up to my friends and I crashed on the couch in the dining room with my host family’s boys…I slept from Saturday afternoon until Sunday afternoon! It is a lot of work being the host and obviously I had not slept a whole lot over the previous 4-5 days, so I took advantage. When I awoke on Sunday afternoon, Bunica (my host family grandmother) thought I was sick and was really concerned,she spoils me rotten, I told her I was just tired from Christmas and she laughed and made some fried potatoes for me. A bit later in the afternoon, I found out a gentleman who was born in the village, who was a big shot commander in the Romanian Military under communism and who I had helped this past fall dig a foundation for a vacation house he wanted to build, had unexpectedly passed away. I did not know the man very well, like I said I spent a Saturday afternoon with him and my neighbors this fall and we chatted a bit about life in Romania. However, I figured it was the right thing to do to attend the service and pay my respects. I lingered in the back of the crowd allowing others to get closer and have a better view; in general I am head and solders taller than most villagers. I was holding my candle and trying to keep warm, it was an outside service and it was brisk to say the least, when the gentleman’s son caught my attention and waved me up to the front next to the casket, so much for laying low. He gave me a 3 ft tall candle with a towel to hold around it and asked me to stay up front next to the casket, next to family and close friends. All attendees of the service burn candles, most of them are short, thin church candles. However, close friends and family are given the much larger, taller, stronger candles. I was a little uncomfortable up there, next to the man’s children, grandchildren and relatives…oh and of course the village mayor and priest who was giving the service, but I took it as a huge compliment. As the casket was carried through the village to the grave yard next to the church, the gentleman’s widow came up to me and told me when her husband returned to her after working on the foundation of their new house in the village, he mentioned how there was an American out there digging with everyone else, laughing and joking along the way. She told me that he was very impressed with what I was doing in the village and that is why she had asked me to stand in the front with the candle. I thanked her for her kind words, gave her my condolences and told her how friendly her husband was to me that afternoon and that I was honored to be up there holding a candle.

Just when I had all intentions of staying in the village for New Years and helping my host family with the 8 tourists that were coming up from Cluj to celebrate the New Years, I was invited to a small cabin (see pic) in the mountains with one of Angela’s cousins, Petre. It was probably one of the best New Years Eves that I have ever had in my life. Why? Well the thing I hate about New Years Eves is that there are such strong expectations of having the best night of your life it is very difficult to live up to those expectations. Also, New Years Eve is the one night that everyone goes to restaurants, bars and clubs, even if someone does not go out the whole year, there is a good chance they will be hitting the town on New Years Eve…also known as amateur night. So when I thought about heading up to an old, refurbished mountain refugee cabin next to a mountain, I was excited for something new. My friend Petre and his buddies are big time mountain climbers, hikers, mountain bikers, skiers…pretty much anything involving the outdoors. A couple of years back they came across this old refugee, which was fully functional under communism. Following the revolution, it was striped of everything except the walls and its roof. Petre and his buddies asked around and no one seemed to claim ownership to it so they slowly but surely rebuilt it back to life. There is a strong Iron door with the craftiest lock system I have ever seen and they filled in the one widow with cement, after it was bashed out and everything with the slightest bit of value stolen. They have added 3 wooden beds, a wood burning stove, a table and a bench. There is an attic up stairs where 4 can sleep comfortably so with the 3 beds downstairs, capacity is ideally 7, however they inform me 25 is the record to date. Each day we went out for water, there is a natural spring 15 minutes down the path, we chopped wood for the fire, they had large dry pieces of wood from this fall under the beds so it was just a matter of chopping them down to size, we built a bon fire for New Years Eve, we climbed to the top of Crestul Cocosului translated into English as the Roosters peak, in reference to the shape of the peak looking like a roosters head, I learned how to cross-country ski and we just chilled. There is no electricity, so after sun down we lit candles, sat at the table, listened to a battery powered radio that we brought along, drank beer, wine and horlinka (you think my host family would let me leave the house for New Years with out the liquid gold, ha!) talked, joked, ate toast off the top of the cast iron stove top of the wood burning stove (the best toast in the world) and laughed until we were tired. There were three of us who slept down stairs and we were each responsible for waking up and different hours of the night to put more wood on the fire, so we would not freeze. Each morning, no one did anything until we all drank at least two cups of coffee. There was not a whole lot of snow but enough to paint natural scenery beautiful enough to represent all that is wonderful about life. All around it was just a great time with great people in a great atmosphere…I am thinking of creating a tradition for future New Years Eves, spending them on a different mountain side each year with outdoorsy souls and a sleeping bag.

Just as I arrive back into the village, feeling revived after my time in the mountains, trying to get back in the school mind set and thinking the holiday that has just past was amazing, I was informed that holiday was not quite over! On Wednesday January 7, 2009 was Saint Ion’s day. With half of the village being named Ion, Ionel or Ionut it is a big deal. Despite the official date of school beginning after the winter vacation being January 5th no one should up until January 8th, after Saint Ion’s day. January 5th was also the day when the priest came to every single house in the village to bless the families, houses and allow them to kiss his cross; I however missed out on this as I had not arrived back from the mountains yet. This gets us to Tuesday January 6th, officially the day before Saint Ion’s day. As luck would have it, the husband of my host family is Ion, his son is Ionel, they have uncles and godparents also named Ion and Ivan, which apparently falls under the Ion umbrella as well, and came into the village to celebrate. My buddy Petre had driven me back to the village and since he is my host family’s family decided to stay and enjoy the festivities. Honestly, I am not sure which was more of a spectacle, caroling on Christmas Eve or celebrating Saint Ion’s day the night before Saint Ion’s day…I am leaning towards Saint Ion’s day the night before Saint Ion’s day. There was an never ending supply of cabbage rolls, meatballs, ham rolls, cakes, pies, horlinka, beer, wine and I will be damned if there was not a bottle of Jameson’s Irish Whiskey on the table. We start with everyone at our house for food and drinks. After 2-3 hours, we ventured…it really is an adventure when you have 8-9 guys drunk off of horlinka, beer and Jameson walking down the street dancing and singing at the top of their lungs…over to Angela’s parents house for another 2-3 hours of the exact same thing we had experienced, ate and drank the previous 2-3 hour at our house. Out of mere survival I have come up with maneuvers of getting out of taking shots of horlinka when I have had enough…I have acted like I was talking on my cell phone with no one on the other line, went to use the bathroom but choosing the out house instead of the in house bathroom and going for a bit of a walk instead, and the ever so cleaverly act like I take the shot but only put it to my lips and never actually take a sip…however this one only works when there is a large group with everyone a bit tipsy and talking really loud, so they are not focusing on you. Also, you must be close enough to the bottle so you can offer to pour the next round of shots so it looks like your glass has just been refilled. This may sound bad and dishonest but after spending a night drinking with these guys, trust me you will understand and thank me for my advice! At some point we make it back to our house where Angela served up some more cabbage rolls and my personal favorite, apple cake, oh and just for good measure a glass of Ursus beer, the king of Romanian beers.

With Holiday Season 2008 finally in the books, it is now time to prepare for the arrival of 2009! Personally, I am looking to 2009 with a lot of hope, optimism and excitement, not to mention January 20th 2009 when Mr. President Barack Obama enters office…Peace, Love and Change!

Happy Holidays!

No need for alarm clocks these last few days before Christmas here in the village. The sound of a pig being slaughtered is one that will get you out of bed faster than a bucket of cold water. It is the most horrible, ear piercing sound I have ever heard in my life. Starting this week and probably lasting up until 2 or 3 days before Christmas Day, that sound will be waking me up bright and early. It is not just the sound of a pig getting slaughtered that sticks with you. The smell of burnt pig hair is another one of those things you will have a hard time shaking. When a pig is sacrificed, there is nothing that goes to waste, including the skin. Who wants to eat hairy pig skin!? Not me! Thus, the easiest way to get ride of those course bristles is to burn ‘em! This also gives the fat, just inside of the skin, a nice smoky flavor, because like I said nothing goes to waste and we eat that too. Seeing how I am a seasoned veteran in the village, this being my second year here, I have already been an active participant in the pig killing, butchering and sausage making ritual. I will be honest; it is not my favorite thing to help out with. That being said, I was not horribly disappointed when my host family decided to kill this year’s porker on Monday, while I was at school. I will say though, arriving home after school and being served, a steaming plate of freshly killed and cooked pork was wonderful. Monday evening, after the slaughtering and butchering, we had the traditional “Honor of the Pig” festivities. This event involves pork meatballs, organ and rice sausage (I can’t even write about it without getting uneasy, I have tried it two or three times, but the smell and taste of organs have a very unique flavor, one that makes me gag!) fried pig fat and you guessed it, Horlinka! The husbands of my host family, Ion, and his father in-law, Gheorghe, are respecting the 7-week fast lasting until Christmas Eve of abstaining from alcohol. I on the other hand, only do this on Wednesdays and Fridays, or whenever I am getting peer pressured to drink a large amount at 8 a.m. before school. After dealing with middle schoolers all day, you need a drink or two. Anyway, it would not be much of a respectful memorial without raising a glass or two in honor of porky. Vasile, Ion’s brother in-law and I picked up the slack of the others and did our respectful duty of drinking a shot or five for that pig, it was the least I could do, those meatballs were to die for!

This year the holidays, for me, will be spent here in Romania with my host family. I am a bit sad I will not be spending Christmas in Grand Blanc, MI with my family. Hands down, I have the best Mom, Dad, Brother, Sister, Brother in-law and Niece in the world! They have been so supportive in all my adventures, especially with my decision to jump into the Peace Corps and move to Romania for 2 ½ years. I love and miss them very much, but that expression “Distance makes the heart grow stronger” has never been more true for our family. It is odd that being on the other side of the globe and not seeing them for over a year could bring us closer together, but it has! As much as I will miss them during the Holidays, I am fortunate to have a great host family here in the village. I really have become apart of my host family’s family. I am great friends with Ion and Angela and similar to an older brother to the boys, Ionel, 11, and Vaslica, 13. I would be a liar if I said I did not start or at least instigate most of the pillow fights, wrestling matches or races around the house. However, trust me, they hold their own. The other night, I walked into my house to make a fire, it was pitch dark out, the lights were off and I could not flip the light switch as my arms were filled to the brim with pieces of wood. Right as I enter the door into my bedroom, I hear a soft drawn out “Boo, Boo.” Just then, something grabs my leg…I yell, jump out of my skin and of coarse drop all the wood in my arms on my floor and feet. Ionel and Vaslica saw me making my kindle and gathering wood, when they hurried with my back to them and quietly snuck in. Ionel, crawled under my desk where he made the ghost’s noises and Vaslica burrowed under my bed waiting for me to get close enough so he could grab my leg. I have to say they got me good! I gave them their credit and then tied their arms and legs together, back-to-back with rope and carried them over to the barn gate where the sheep and goat live. I sat them next to the gate and laughed in revenge as the sheep and goat licked their faces…ok so I let an 11 year old and a 13 year old get to me, a 27 year old adult, but I couldn’t just let them get away with that, it is the principle of it!

The area in Romania where my village is located is called Maramures. Maramures is known nation wide as the most traditional area of Romania. Now, combine that with my village which is known within Maramures as being one of the most traditional villages and I find myself living in the heart & soul of old Romanian traditions. Last year, I flew back to the states for Christmas and New Years, so I was unable to see all that goes on here. This year, it will be an unique experience for me to participate in such a traditional Romanian Holiday. First thing on the list, Caroling on Christmas Eve. I thought that only happened in the movies but guess not. From what I understand, the young kids go in groups from house to house, singing traditional Romanian Christmas carols. I also understand, that depending how many houses a group makes it to, they can make some serious cash along with being feed to the brim…naturally Ionel and a few of his 5th grade cronies have their route mapped out based on who the big cash givers were in years past, you have to love their enthusiasm! For the older folks, you go in groups of close friends and family. You start at one family’s house with carols, food, drink and dancing (in that order). Once you exhausted all the resources of that family i.e. once the Horlinka is getting low, you move on to the other family’s house in the group. The idea is to visit every family’s house in the group. However, Angela informs me this takes a focused leader to rally the troops out of one house and find the next…I called “Not It!” So the caroling takes you into Christmas morning. There is a major church service in the morning and maybe one in the evening too, not sure. Other than that, it is a day of rest and recovery from the night before…in village terms this means just staying in your house eating and drinking not going to all your neighbors. I am still not sure what the norm is for gift giving. December 6th is Saint Nicholas day in the Romanian Orthodox calendar and on this day he brings gifts to children who have behaved themselves and have clean, shiny shoes next to the window. The day after Christmas is also a Sabbath day in the Romanian Orthodox calendar, thus no work, no cleaning only feeding animals, feeding people and visiting friends & neighbors. Now you can understand why they wait to kill the pig right before Christmas, there is a lot of eating going on!

To help keep me up to date with what is going on in the world I have a subscription to the Economist magazine. I had never read the Economist before going to Spain this summer, where I picked it up in the airport, but I really enjoy it. It covers all world issues and obviously focuses a lot on economics, which I am trying to learn more about as we are in the middle of this financial melt down. Any way, they just published a special “Looking to 2009” issue. From what I remember, I feel like most news magazines lusually do the whole “Best & Worst of 2008” or “2008, A Year in Review” but maybe that is just in my imagination. Either way, I really liked how this particular issue talked all about big issues coming up the new year…Obama, Iraq, Iran, The World Economy, Afghanistan, The Environment, Obama, Israel’s elections, New country/president heading the EU, Africa, China, the car industries big 3 oh and did I mention Obama? I am not one for New Year’s Resolutions, but without even realizing it I have been doing a lot of my own personal “look into 2009.” My service as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Romania comes to an end in July of 2009. This will bring with it a lot of change for me. I will be leaving my village, which has not just been apart of my life, it has been my life for 2 years! As difficult, lonely and frustrating things can be here at times, it will be my hardest day as a Peace Corps volunteer, leaving this village and friendships I have made. I will not be just in search of my next adventure; I will be at the doorstep of my next adventure, whatever that may be. One thing my Peace Corps experience has done for me, is it has allowed me understand myself better, what I am looking for out of life, who I am and what direction I want to head in. I am going to give all I have to continue working within the International relations/development field . This is where I will focus my heart, soul and energies whether I stay in Romania, move to another country or back to the U.S. I will have to wait and see what 2009 has in store.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS & HAPPY NEW YEAR

PEACE & LOVE

14 hour train rides

So I just came back from Bucharest, which for me is a 14 hour train ride and does not even get me to my door step, such is life. Here is a short list of things I thought about through out my journey...I always travel with some kind of blank space to write things on, so these are some of the highlights:

- Thanksgiving Day with Turkish food, BLTs, beer and horlinka was a nice change from the traditional turkey, mash potatoes and gravy.

- Whether it is a 4 hour flight from Tucson, AZ to Flint, MI or a combined 8 hour bus ride, starting at 5 a.m. and ending in Sibiu, traveling and Thanksgiving just go together.

- Being able to know what everyone is saying about you in Romanian while acting like you only speak English is a huge plus.

- Everyone should give a free hug to a stranger at least once a week...the background for this comment comes from when I was in Bucharest yesterday and there was a group of people with signs that literally said "FREE HUGS." I received one of these "FREE HUGS" from a complete stranger and I have to say it put a smile on my face, the fact that this free hug came from a very pretty 20 something Romanian women may have had something to do with it, but that is neither here nor there! It was interesting to watch as people actually ran away from a free hug as if they were running away from a murderer, this reinforcing the point for more free hugs in the world.

- The heart of life is good.

- Someone should invent a way to freeze dry Chipotle burritos so they could be sent internationally to places like Romania.

- If there was music playing from the sky my IPOD battery would not be dead after walking around Bucharest for an afternoon...It would be really great if each person had a little ear piece that would play a personal play list so you would not have to listen to what ever everyone else is listening to, but I guess that is what an IPOD is all about, huh.

- "Keep Smiling!"... Bob Kuch, my Dad.

- Every person in the world should spend at least one year in a country other than the one they were born in before turning 30 years old.

- Sometimes the greatest risk in life is not taking any at all...

- Shake Up the World :)

Life is a Song

Of all the events, holidays and gatherings I have been to since my arrival in the Village, I had not been in attendance for a funeral. A neighbor of mine, passed away last Sunday. He was 72 years old and had been very ill for the last couple of years. I had never met him or even seen him for that matter, due to his illness he was restricted to his bed. It is custom here in the village for the corps of a body to remain in their home for three days after dying. During these three days, family and friends come by the house of the deceased to pay respects and grieve with the family, in this case my neighbor left behind his wife. All of the women neighbors of the deceased arrived with sugar, flour, apples, cabbage, meat, rice etc. to make food for visitors as well as to prepare for the gathering after the funeral. Yesterday (November 4th) was the third and final day of grieving and was the day of the funeral. As I made my way to school yesterday morning the church bells rang in unison for about 5 minutes...I am not sure the direct meaning of the bells but they are to let the village know that there will be a funeral that day. At 12:00 noon, the funeral services began. Outside the house of the deceased there was the Priest, the Mayor as well as friends and family. The corps was enclosed in a hand made wooden coffin, made by the neighboring men, with a special design cloth laid over it. On top of the cloth were candles and a cross. There was about an one hour service by the Priest, the whole time everyone in attendance burning long, thin candles. Once the Priest was done with his service the family of the dead passed out candy/sweets to the kids in attendance...they told me this represents the gift of life and youthfulness from the dead. The Priest accompanied by the children led the procession down the streets of the village followed by the pall bearers (men who were either close friends or family to the deceased, using long wooden poles to carry the coffin) followed by the men who were in attendance, followed by the women who were in attendance. Once we arrived at the cemetery, in the middle of the village between the old wooden church and the new modern church, the coffin is taken to a pre-dug grave where it will be buried. Two days before the funeral, while the women are cooking and preparing food the men dig a hole where the coffin is to be buried. There are pretty strict regulations as far as how deep and wide the hole must be, all directed by the Priest not the government. Also, it is customary for villagers to be buried in the same hole as their family, one on top of the other. Thus, in this situation, the hole must be deep enough to allow room for the widows coffin when she passes away. Before the coffin is lowered, there is one more prayer led by the priest. As the pall bearers were preparing the ropes to lower the coffin, the widow was hysterical, not letting go of the coffin while pounding her fists at the wood. Watching all of this was obviously very intense, it took three other women to restrain her and allow the coffin to be lowered...again I was told this is normal for a woman when she loses her husband, her cries were very rhythmic almost like a song. Once the coffin was in place in the ground, the Priest blessed it with holy water and everyone picks up a piece of dirt and to toss on the coffin. The pall bearers stay behind to fill in the grave while the rest make their way to the village banquet room next to the post office. I passed on an invitation to sit at the head table with the Priest, Mayor and other village big wigs, for a seat at the ˝old man˝ table. Most of these men are over the age of 70, walk with canes or should walk with canes, have not one tooth, are unable to get out of the house very much and have personalities like you would not believe. With the celebrity status that I receive being the American English teacher at school, it was very refreshing to be seated next to these gentlemen who had no idea who the hell I was! One man, yelled into my face (oh and most of the men at this table are losing their hearing as well so everything is a yell) ˝Who the hell are you?˝ As I was explaining my situation, I was cut off by another old man yelling in my general direction but not necessarily at me ˝Where the hell is the horlinka? What kind of funeral is this?˝ Luckily the horlinka arrived and I was able to finish the rest of my introduction. It was great, none of them cared less about what I was doing, where I came from, what my story was...they just wanted to talk, I mean yell. They were impressed with my language ability as they went on to tell me how much has changed around the village during their lives. ˝The kids now-a-days have no respect˝ yelled one of them, ˝The horses I see around now are weak, thin and have no power, not like what we used to have˝ uttered another, all of them shaking their head in disappointment. I just sat there listening, trying to understand all of the yelling that was flying around my head. I noticed the man sitting next to me, pulled a plastic bag from his pocket, I was curious what he was going to do but did not want to stare. I watched out of the corner of my eye as he filled his bag with all the different types of cakes and sweet breads that were placed on the tables. Another man across the table called him out asking him what he was doing. The man with his ˝hand in the cookie jar so-to-speak˝, yelled ˝That Ion was a son-of-a-bitch while he was alive! He always took things and never gave them back, I am getting even!˝ I wish I could describe to you the roar of laughter that followed in words, but it is impossible. I was in tears I was laughing so hard!

All the women prepared a delicious meal for the guests. Not only did the prepare the food they also served it to the guests. First up was a traditional sour soup (not rally that sour) with hard boiled eggs and lamb meat. Every guest each had a place setting in front of them, a bowl with a plate, spoon and napkin. As one of the women placed the large soup bowl in front of us and walked away, you should have seen all the distraught looks on the old men´s faces. They are defiantly from a different generation where women cook, clean and serve the men. So when the woman who brought the soup bowl left with out serving each of them, they were confused, dumbfounded, and a little angry. One of the them started yelling for his wife to come over (oh ya, so all the men sit on one side of the room and the women on the other side of the room)and serve the soup, I jumped up and started to serve the soup myself. Again more looks of confusion and disbelief! They got over it quick, when one man yelled to tell me I need to serve more broth than I did, I guess beggars can be choosers! While we were waiting for the cabbage rolls to arrive, another around of horlinka was coming around. It is tradition to only use one shot glass to serve horlinka. Once one person has drank it, then it goes to the next and so forth. I like this tradition in large group settings as it gives me a break while the glass is getting passed around to all the others...as for drinking out of the same glass as hundreds of others have, I have gotten over it, much more of a community feel! So as I was saying, the glass returns to our table and a man with very shaky hands manages about half of the glass and hands it back to man serving from the bottle. Another old man, even older and more shaky handed, sitting next to him speaks up ˝What the hell is that? What just because you are old you cannot finish your glass like a man!˝ He snatches the half filled glass and throws the remaining horlinka down his throat! The cabbage rolls were delicious as usual here and then it was time to go home. I shook hands with all the men at the table, thanking them for their company/entertainment, I was told to come over to each of their respective houses for a shot when I can. At the door of the banquet hall as we were exiting, the man sitting next to me who drink his as well as other´s fair share of horlinka was meet by his wife who yelled ˝How many shots of horlinka did you have? You know you are not supposed to drink!˝ He leans on her shoulder to help support him as he walks down the stairs and whispers ˝I did not even have one˝ while giving me a wink. As I walked up the hill to my house, all I could here was this mans wife yelling, ˝speak up, I cannot hear you, how many did you have?˝


PS - On a completely other note, Congrats newly elected Mr. President, Barack Obama! I love the hope & Change that is in the air!

GO VOTE!!

Get out and VOTE!! and if you want to vote for Barack Obama that would be cool too, but most importantly VOTE!

Tiny Dancer

It is amazing what a little sun shine can do. It has been raining here in the village for the last 3-4 weeks off and on (mostly on) and has been etremley cold for this time of year. However, today is a perfect fall afternoon in Poienile Izei. The sun is high and full pouring down plenty of warm rays. The sky is a crisp blue with a few puffy white cotton ball clouds. Most of the leaves have turned there fall colors giving the still green grass a wonderful contrast. The children at school are full of energy, playing soccer and tag outside during the 10 min pauses in between classes. The teachers stand around in the sunshine talking about the students, the weather, other people in the village and what ever else you could imagine. Even I have a little more spunk and easyness as I go from class to class teaching different verbs, nouns and adjectives. School is pretty much in full swing now that we are entering the middle of October. Things have gone much smoother than last year for me. Obviously, having one year of experience teaching, speaking the language and adapting to the culuture have helped a lot. I am more comfortable in the classroom and I think the students are more comfortablt to my teaching style as well. This year in addition to teaching 5th-8th grades I have also taking on the task of teaching 3rd & 4th grades. There are only 4 students in the 4th grade and 9 in the 3rd so we combine the two classes for two hours a week. I have to say I really enjoy teaching the 3rd & 4th graders. They deffinatly take a lot more energy and patience but they are so enthusiastic about what ever they do. My 8th graders (15students) are at that awkard "too cool" stage and just want to get to high school in the big city or forget school all together and start making money. 7th grade is not quite to that "too cool" stage but they deffinatly have some attitude....it does not help that there are 9 boys and only 3 girls in this class. My 6th graders are starting to feel there roots in the school but still seem enthusiatic about what they do in the class room. Finally 5th grade consists of 5 girls and 3 boys and is by far the most chill class of them all. It is hard to believe that I am already well into my 2nd year as the english teacher and rapidly approaching the end of my service with the Peace Corps in July 2009.
My host family and I have finished digging all of our potatoes, picking all of our plumbs for jam and horlinka and have finished the last of the hay stacks for 2008. Everyday walking around the village you see horse drawn carriages full of sacks of potatoes, sacks of plumbs, piles of hay and logs of wood. My family is still waiting for the village distiller to be available to make our horlinka nor have we gone out in to the forests to retrreive our wood for this winter...although we have plenty already chopped that would probably last us the winter. As sad as I am to see the summer warmth and long days fade away into short, cold winter afternoons there is nothing better than the smells of fall in the village. First of all, all the wood coming from the forest must be chopped and stacked as soon as possible to let it dry before it gets too cold. I love to chop wood! It is my favorite type of work to do in the village. Not only is it one hell of a workout but at the same time it is so relaxing. Not to mention, the smell of fresh chopped wood is something that should be prescibed to people with high stress levels! Walking around the village just before the dark of night pulls the covers over the afteroon sun is wonderful. Every home has a wood burning stove fired up sending into the crips cool air the smell of sweet burning wood and a gloss of smoke giving the surrounding mountains a very gothic feel. These types of experiences, smells and sights are the things I will miss the most (besides the people of course) when my time here is down. There is so much about my life here that cannot be described in words or justified in pictures. To truly appreciate the people and culture of Poienile Izei you really have to role up your sleeves and jump head first. Last weekend I attended a wedding of a neighbors daughter who now lives and works in the large city of Timisoara, on the western border of Romania. There were 30 or 40 friends and family from the village who made the 9 hour train or bus ride over for the wedding. The grooms family is all from the surounding Timisoara area as well as were a lot of the bride and grooms friends. The reception took place in a very elegant hotel's ball room. There was champange, beer, wine, Jack Daniels, sparking water, flat water, coca-cola, red bull, expresso, hot chocolate...but dont worry the father of the bride brought with him about 90 liters of 2 day old plumb horlika! Each of the five courses that were served were mouth watering. All of the villagers brought with them their tradional cosutmes (see picture) as well as the more modern wedding attire. The first half of the wedding the villagers were dressed in the tradional threads and then all changed to their shirts and ties, dresses and high heals. It was pretty interesting to see the two cultures from Poienile Izei and Timisoara combine. The table I was sitting at was a mix of some younger adults from the village as well as the city. Naturally I offered each person at the table a little horlinka to start the night off, just expecting everyone to say "bottoms up" as they would in the village. Not a single person at the table accepted, even the ones from the village, prefering instead some white wine mixed with sparkling water, Jack Daniels with coca-cola, gin & tonic and there was even one with a some kind of fruit caribean looking drink with a drink umbrella and all! I stayed strong to my village roots and poured my self a shot of horlinka and a glass fo sparkling water to chase it down with. The waiter of my table came up to me and told me that I should go over to the table with all the people dressed in traditional costumes to have a shot because he has already had to refill their craft of horlinka 3 or 4 times in the first 2 hours...apparently the husband of my host family asked if the waiter could just put some horlinka in an empty 2 liter bottle to save all parties involved time and energy! There was a nice mix of music from tradional folk music for the villagers and modern day pop/dance music for the city slickers. It was great to see some of the "suits & ties" getting out there learning some of the traditional folk dances as well as seeing some of the villagers learning some of the more modern day pop dances. At about 3 a.m. the cake came out as well as the gift/envelope box, unioffically ending the weddings festivities. At this point in the morning I was more than fine with the idea of heading back to where we were all staying to get a couple hours of shut eye before climbing in a mini-van for the 8/9 journey home. However, as most of the visitors were saying goodbye and thanking the bride & groom the husband of my host family made a request for a very popular traditional folk song to the band that was playing. Once the first chord was played all that were left, mostly villagers, jumped to there feet and stayed there for another two more hours...we probably would have stayed there all night if it were not for the driver of our bus wanting to leave to get some sleep before driving us back to the village, probably a good idea. I have really made strides of steping out of my "wall flower" no dancing comfort zone since living in the village, I was out there most of the night, stumbling along tring ot keep up with everyone else, but you can not say I did not try...maybe the horlinka has some thing to so with that as well!