We returned to the United States of America on June 14, 2009. Since then, here are some things we've experienced again for the very first time.

First juicy hamburgers: with Brianna in Minneapolis, the night we arrived on the plane from Brussels/Chicago. She said, "What do you REALLY want to eat right now." Dennis and I both said, "A big, juicy hamburger." She took us to her favorite hang-out, The Ugly Mug. The hamburgers were absolutely, drip down your arm juicy and tasty.

First kid sightings: Brianna in Minneapolis when we got off the plane from Chicago. Prester John in Alamosa when he got out of Stanley's truck and said, "Waddup?"

First sighting of the boyfriend: We met Cameron when Brianna took us to her apartment, then had supper (see "juicy hamburgers" above) with them and their friends. We were a big hit as the returned Peace Corps parents.

First time driving: for Dennis this was the drive across country from Minneapolis to Alamosa, Colorado. We took two days; stayed at a small town in Nebraska which had a huge tornado that evening. Yikes! For me, first drive was over to Mom's house. It's true what they say that it's like riding a bike -- very easy to pick up again.

First Mom sighting: Saturday, June 20, in Alamosa. she hugged us and hugged us, like we had come back from the dead! :)

First night in our own house in our own bed (purchased the day before and delivered -- ain't America great?): Sunday, June 21, 2009.

First parade: July 4, Independence Day Parade in Alamosa. No fly-over this year, but there were horses and tractors, and political party floats and fire engines. Americans know how to do parades!

First steaks: bought by Mom and grilled by Dennis -- mouth watering!

First corn on the cob: with our July 4th dinner at home in Alamosa. It is SO sweet! YUM! I think I'll stay after all and just eat corn on the cob every day.

First concert: in Cole Park in Alamosa, the Air Force Academy Band performing all kinds of music, especially patriotic. Very heart warming for us world travelers.

First Friend outing: with my friends Mary and Nina on June 27. They gave me Welcome Home balloons and cake. :) What awesome friends!!!!

First hot dogs: several times in the last few weeks. :)

Have you noticed how many of these are food? Like maybe we missed the tastes of our home and culture. :)

We have been traveling in Europe since leaving Romania: Brussels, Amsterdam, Bath, Luxembourg.

Tomorrow we collect our Romanian kitty and fly to Minneapolis. Finally, home. Home to America.

I can't wait to see Brianna, to hug her to death, to eat at a Pancka House. :)

This is my last post as a Peace Corps Volunteer.

Tomorrow, May 28, 2009, we meet with the Country Director, shake hands, get a certificate (no, not a t-shirt), sign more papers, then leave.

We will have completed our obligation, our service to our country, service in peace.

I am so glad! And also so sad!

The last week has been a continual string of lasts: the last homemade Romanian meal (Monica's Mom made us ciroba de perisoare -- meatball soup -- and chicken, salad of tomatoes and cucumbers and we ate fresh cherries we had bought at a roadside stand.); the last night in Suceava; the last taste of Betty Ice icecream; the last hike up five flights of cement stairs.

When we left Alamosa, we said "Goodbye!" and "See you later!" And we knew we really would see people later. Here, I can only say goodbye. I gave last hugs to Paula, my counterpart for the prenatal classes; Dr. Dan, the Peace Corps doctor and Liliana, his most excellent assistant; other volunteers at our site, Mary and Betsey; my teachers association friends, Maria and Adriana -- these two hurt the most.

I knew that Peace Corps was about making new relationships, and I knew that leaving them would be hard. I was right.

Today the final lasts: last dinner in Romania, last night in Bucaresti (yay!), last visit to favorite restaraunts.

Although our service in Peace Corps ends, I feel like this adventure will continue. We have to "re-adjust" after all. And then there are the presentations, the connecting with other Return Peace Corps Volunteers.

I feel like I still have a lot of memories and pictures to share; like The Most Terrible Train Ride, the communist prison in Sighet, functional illiteracy, loneliness, great parties. So much still to tell!

Please check back here once a month or so for awhile. You may be lucky enough to find new stories and new pictures and new thoughts.

For now, la revedere!

In September, 2007 we had been "at site" five months. I was having a very bad day. I wanted to go home, I was lonely, I hated being a Stupid Peace Corps Volunteer in Stupid Romania. The only thing I'd accomplished was getting a grant for the Teachers Association from the U. S. Embassy. I couldn't even help with it because I barely spoke Romanian. Nothing else was working.

Then, as I walked to our apartment, I stepped in freshly poured wet cement on the sidewalk. It was the crowning humiliation. When I arrived, I said to Dennis, "Okay. I've written a grant for the teachers and I left my footprint in the cement. Isn't that enough? Can I go home now?" Dennis was extremely sympathetic because he felt the same way. But we'd waited 30 years to do Peace Corps service. We didn't go home.

Here is my footprint in the cement, at the toe of my shoe.

From blog pix, Jan 09

Since that day, when people came to visit us in Suceava, I showed them my footprint. I'd say, "See. I've left my footprint. Isn't that good enough?" One volunteer even said, "I was inspired to work on a project because I knew Holly left her footprint, and I wanted to leave one as well."

Eventually that footprint became a metaphor for our time here.

Carmen, a school counselor, told me about a workshop for some students. She was angry because the boys in the group kept picking on the girls. She couldn't get the boys to stop or the girls to speak up. I said, "When we have workshops like that, we separate the girls from the boys. Then the girls get more out of it." She stared at me. "That is a wonderful idea! I will do just that next time."

Ka-ching. Footprint!

A group of teachers were organizing certificates for students according to the school of the child, and putting the certificates to each school in an envelope. When we got to over 20 envelopes I sorted them alphabetically. The teachers at first were a little alarmed. "What did you do?" I showed them. They said, "Wow! That's a great idea! This will make the job easier!"

Ka-ching. Footprint.

The young people at Dennis's office were offended when he corrected a translated word. They had used "manifestation" to talk about a meeting or conference. He said, "That word doesn't work." They argued, "But it's in the dictionary." Dennis said, "Maybe it's in the dictionary, but trust me, no one will know what you mean. For us this word means something about ghosts." A year later he said, "I haven't seen the word 'manifestation' for months!"

Ka-ching. Footprint!

One of the hardest things about Peace Corps service is wondering whether the service mattered or not. The challenges are so huge: language, culture, harassment, travel, constant surprises. We can write up lots of reports, but we still wonder whether we made any difference. But I am one of the lucky volunteers; I leave my footprint and a whole lot more.

Today, my last day in Suceava, two years of memories crowd around me like needy children. They want to be recognized. While I, my friends, I still just want to go home.

Ka-ching!

Thursday we did a last walk-about of Suceava. We went to places we wanted to revisit, and to places we had been meaning to go. It was was a good day.

We started by finding the Bucovina Ethnografic Museum, which we had just learned about. It's located in an medieval building that's still standing.

From blog pix, Jan 09

This is the kitchen, with lots of wooden utensils and bowls and spoons. There are actually three stoves, the one center front, a smaller one behind, and a larger one to the right outside the picture.

From blog pix, Jan 09

These are examples of traditional clothing. The men still wear these heavy, felt coats. Most have gorgeous embroidery, and most have been passed down in a family. The women's skirts are like kilts, they're a simple length of cloth wrapped around and tied with a sash. It seems like every article of clothing was embroidered. The far right woman has a cloth bag at her feet; these were very common and today people here still use bgs for everything -- except the bags are plastic. :)

We've learned a lot about the traditions and history of this country. Living in a community for two years has definite advantages!

We were doing some other errands, so after the museum we, one last time, one of our favorite meals.

From blog pix, Jan 09

This is Sempre restaurant. No one knows what this word really means; it's not Romanian or Spanish, and probably not Italian. It's owned and operated by a family of Pentacostals; no alcohol, and the Sermon on the Mount on the back of the menu, in Romanian, of course. :)

From blog pix, Jan 09

Our favorite Romanian food: ciorba radauţeana: Radauţi style soup. This creamy, garlic flavored soup has chicken chunks and sometimes (not at Sempre) vegetable chunks. It's modeled after a favorite soup here: ciorbe de burta (stomach soup). We prefer the radauţeana version with chicken rather than stomach. Radauţi is a small city north of Suceava where they first starting making this soup. Whenever volunteers came to visit us, we took them to this restaurant for this soup. They ALL loved it and were disappointed when they returned to their own sites and could not find this soup.

After paying the bill, one last time, we went to our next tourist site: the church of St. John the New.

From blog pix, Jan 09

We can see this beautiful roof from our apartment balcony. Unfortunately we couldn't take pictures inside because a woman was praying at the feet of a priest, with her head covered (we heard a baby whimpering under the cloth), and beside the relics of St. John. These relics perform an annual miracle, which we were able to see last year: it is impossible to move the casket with the relics except on June 24 when the priests, after a lot of praying, can lift it and carry it through the city. The Patriarch of the Romanian Orthodox Church comes for this miracle. Police surround the casket bearers because the crowd all wants to touch the casket. Gypsy women break through the cordon of police and run under the casket in the hopes of getting pregnant. It's a fabulous, exciting spectacle!

Next stop, the Park of Three Beards. On our first day in Suceava, my counterpart Maria took us around the city. I remember being confused, excited, overwhelmed. She pointed out landmarks that we still use, "Oh, there's the shipping company Maria told us about," or "Oh, there's the fountain Maria showed us." She said, at one point, "This is the park of three beards because it has statues of three men and they all beards. When Dennis is here, it will be the Park with Four Beards."

From blog pix, Jan 09

I finally got a picture of the Park of Four Beards. You can see Dennis standing in front of the middle statue. Can you see all three statues?

Next, a revisit to the history museum to photograph a new hero in our lives. Dennis's counterpart, Victor, took us to this museum in the first week. I've wanted to get back, especially since I've learned so much about one of Romania's greatest heroes: Ştefan cel Mare.

From blog pix, Jan 09

This wax display is of King Ştefan, far right with the red and gold boots, receiving a diplomatic delegation from the king of Poland. The figures are extremely life-like. I wanted to shake Ştefan's hand, but the museum had sent young women guides along with us, so we had to settle for being paparazzi.

Ştefan, King of Bucovina, was a cousin of Vlad ŢepeŞ, Count Dracula. Ştefan ruled for 50 years -- a remarkably long reign -- and managed to keep the Turks from invading Europe. He is said to have won all but one battle. At each place where he won a battle, he commissioned a painted monastery -- the now famous painted monasteries. People here say that at each battle site he left a church and some children. :)

Final stop, revisiting the cathedral that is being built on a hill in the middle of the city. We took pictures when we arrived because this seemed like such a major construction project!

From blog pix, Jan 09

We went back to take pictures of the changes.

From blog pix, Jan 09

You can see that the three towers have grown significantly. People tell us that this is being built through community contributions, not through the national government or the official church.

From blog pix, Jan 09

It's pretty awesome!

We ended the day as we plan to spend our last day, watching kids and pigeons in the center.

From blog pix, Jan 09

From blog pix, Jan 09

This young lady was zooming very fast around the fountain, showing her skill, no time for chatting, she had places to be right now! :)

What a lot of memories -- good and bad -- we have of this one city in far away Romania!

Here in Romania, people throw their own parties. They don't eait around for friends and family to remember stuff, and then feel slighted because no one did remember. They just throw their own parties.

So, in fine Romanian tradition, we threw our own goodbye parties: one for the Teachers Association and one for everyone else.

The Teachers Association party had 24 people. We held it at a nice local hotel; the Hotel Continental which locals still refer to as The Archer because that's what it was known as and it still has an archer stature out front. Maria asked me to show my power point presentation about being here as a Peace Corps volunteer. Then we all had a nice meal. The group brought drinks, so there was lots of whiskey and vodka. Then I held an auction. I had gathered items from our house that I wanted to give away. I put them in odd groupings, then auctioned the groups starting with small amounts like 5 lei (about $2). People had a blast! They loved it! And they totally got into the excitement of the thing. We raised 240 lei which we gave to the association for the party for their next volunteer (hopeful thinking there), and we had fun, fun time.

The community party we held at our favorite local restaurant, No Limit. (Yes, that's its name, even though the owners don't speak much English.) Dennis made up invitations and we handed them out to everyone who was not in the Teachers group. Dennis's agency, GEC Bucovina had people come, and my other agnecy, Bucovia Ladies Society had some people come. We also invited friends like our landlady Lili (who was so scary at first and ended up being wonderful), Sorin who is a psychologist working at a center for disabled children, and our neighbors. We had about 40 people there. We told them we would buy their pizzas, they would buy drinks. It sorta worked.

These two parties gave us two important messages:

1. We are appreciated by a lot of people for our work and our being here.

2. We made a lot of friends, many more than we expected or realized.

We have crossed the globe and become richer.

We leave Romania, and the Peace Corps, on May 28. Two weeks from today.

Fortunately, I'm very busy right now. I have a grant report to complete for the Bucovina Ladies Society, a final article to write for the Teachers Association Newsletter, and the Description of Service report for Peace Corps. Oh, and our 2008 taxes -- as overseas residents we file before June 15.

We're also going through our stuff. We've thrown a lot away, and we've shipped a lot home (to my Mom's). Probably ship a few more boxes next week. We're also packing two large suitcases and two smaller ones.

Before we came, I had a chart on our wall which showed the tasks we needed to complete and an almost day by day breakdown of what to do. Here, life is much simpler. We don't have so many animals; only a cat which we are taking home with us. We don't have to arrange for cars and renters. We don't have to wonder what to take with us; we take only treasured things that can't be replaced.

Returning to Colorado is not the mystery that coming to Romania was. It's easier to return. At least in terms of possessions it's easier.

Today Dennis and I went to the Suceava bazaar with our Romanian friends, Catalin and Dana (pronounced Donna). We had a great time wandering through the narrow aisles and looking at all the things for sale. Since we're leaving soon, it seemed like a good time to take pictures of the bazaar. Plus, we had our friends who would tolerate us taking their pictures while they shopped.

Eventually people started to notice the cameras, and one woman asked me, in Romanian, why I was taking pictures. Before I could answer, others told her I was a foreigner, and that I was there with friends. I tried to tell her I was a tourist, but she had already turned away.

Later, Dana and I were walking through the bazaar by ourselves. A young man was behind us, talking excitedly to a young woman, as well as to others nearby. He said, in Romanian, "I know Americans are here. They're in the bazaar today. I know this." Then he hurried past me and Dana, telling everyone that some Americans were in in the bazaar.

I wondered what exactly he was looking for. What does an American look like? Clearly, whatever he thought, didn't match reality since he rushed right past an American without recognizing her. Was he looking for cameras? Was he looking for fancy clothes? How disappointed he would have been to learn that I was his Mystery American and I am dressed like everyone else, have even less money, and speak Romanian.

This incident amuses me hugely. It means we still stand out, but that we are also integrated here. Success? Nu ştiu.

This weekend we have about 20 volunteers coming to Suceava, mostly for farewell parties. A few are going on to Ukraine, another group going on to Moldova (if they can get in the country), and others are just going to enjoy each other's company.

Another bittersweet time. Most of these folks we'll never see again. But thank goodness we see them this time!

Another full day, or at least a full half-day.

In the afternoon I went with my friend Sorin to a 1-8 school where he gave a workshop to kids about Success. He is a psychologist who has found a local niche giving motivational talks to middle school kids. He's very funny and irreverent, so they think he's great. He also has cerebral palsy and tells the kids how lucky he is.

From Blog pix

At the end of his talk, he asked me to sing, so I did a rousing rendition of "Puff the Magic Dragon" and got great applause. :) I also answered their questions about America and about Peace Corps.

From Blog pix

Afterwards, Sorin and I and the school counselor Carmen, went a local restaurant called Taco Loco for pizzas. We tried the "burritoes" at Taco Loco when we first came, and they are so not like anything in Colorado that we never order the "Mexican" food there anymore. We each ordered a pizza. Here, everyone eats their own pizza -- yes, full sized. I told them that in America three of us would share one of those pizzas. They shook their heads. Poor silly Americans!

After the pizza, Dennis joined us and we went to a concert at a local pub. It was three young men; two playing guitars and singing and another on the bongo drum. They were songs in the style of Peter, Paul and Mary or Simon & Garfunkel. Later, Sorin told us that the songs are from Romania's 1960s and 70s. They have a lot of symbolism about being in the shadow of the Soviet Union and hating communisim. These songs are coming back into popularity.

From Blog pix

Afterwards we discussed the songs with Sorin and Carmen. They are glad the old regime is gone, but worry that the kids today don't have good values. Sound familiar? These folks finally have the same worries about the next generation as the rest of us, instead of worrying about how to feed and protect their families.

Today I went to the town of Bacau, south of Suceava, with a Maria for an education meeting. It was a symposium, "Holistic Approach to Pre-School Education".

The national government of Romania has decided that pre-school curriculum SHALL BE thematic rather than subject-based. Most schools in America have been teaching this way for a long time. Now, the Romanian pre-schools will be using this format.

Maria told me that teachers are frightened by this big change. She said that this meeting was to reassure people.

The presentation featured four teachers who have piloted the use of this curriculum in their classrooms. Videos had been made of them with their children. When they presented to the 50+ attendees, they were obviously scared to death. Easier to present to pre-school kids than to their peers. But later, when I asked them about the theme and how they decided what lessons to do, they were very enthusiastic.

Maria and I were VIPs at this affair, because they considered the Suceava Teachers Association to be a partner. We went to a separate room for coffee and sweets. After the event, they fed us a large meal, complete with champagne and wines.

And of course, they gave us flowers as we left. Here, flowers are required to give to VIPs. I like that people give so many flowers, but it feels awkward to receive VIP treatment when I'm just Maria's side-kick for the day.

Anyway, it's great to see new educational ideas coming to Romania, and to see so many people discussing them.

This evening I went to the Sport High School to help a P.E. teacher translate some English language documents into Romanian. Yes, strange to say, I can help someone translate back into their own language. :/

While I was there, Maria arrived from a trip to Iaşi. Iaşi is the largest city in our region of Romania. Maria took her "work" car, a Ford Focus station wagon, to Iaşi for a tune up.

She has begun a second multi-year contract through the World Bank which has master teachers train teachers in rural areas. The trainings are about new methodologies, such as cooperative learning, brainstorming, and comparisons. She was a bit grumpy because the car needs something expensive done and she isn't sure if her company will pay to get it done.

She asked if I would go with her tomorrow to the city of Bacau, south of Suceava. I have some Peace Corps paperwork to do, but I'd rather spend the day with Maria. I haven't spent much time with her for the last few months. We always have good ideas together.

She'll pick me up in the morning at 7:00, her husband Costel driving, and get us to the train station. I don't know when I'll be back. This is common here: we never know, when we leave the apartment, when we'll be back. Could be in an hour, could be the next morning at 6:00.

Tonight Dennis will leave for the city of Baie Mare, over the mountains and to the west. He'll be on a night train where the seats turn into bunks and there are 6 bunks to a compartment.

In Baie Mare he wants to find and purchase more Romanian mineral samples. There was a lot of mining in that region and apparently lots of people have mineral collections. He has some nice specimens from there already, but he wants to get more before we leave.

He will also visit with some of our colleagues: Tod, Derrick and Carol. We really enjoy the young people we're serving with. What wonderful youthfulness!

Obviously I'm feeling a LOT better. Yay!

I've been very sick since last Thursday with a bad stomach problem.

It's bad enough being sick in your own territory, but when it's in a foreign country, it's a lot harder.

Our Peace Corps doctors are in Bucaresti, a day's train ride away. I sent them an email, but they'll either say, "Get well soon." or "Come to Bucaresti immediately." or "Go find a local doctor and we'll reimburse you."

This last is the scariest. Find a doctor who speaks English, or who has a nurse who speaks English? When I'm already very sick? And then when I go, I'll have to pay right then. It's the middle of month and I don't have a lot of spare cash, reimbursement or not. Finally, these people love to do "tests". What sort of tests am I going to be subjected to? Will anyone there speak English and be able to tell me why I'm there? Will they need to be paid as well? What if they "find" something? How will I know if it's cancer or just heartburn?

Argh!!!!

Back to bed.

Actually, I feel a lot better today. Maybe I'll check my email.

* “I stood in line behind an older couple. I swear, they carried on a conversation for at least an hour, all in body language.” C.K.

* An argument between a middle aged man and older lady about what they thought the group should do the next day: go watch a football game, or go site seeing. Why an argument? “The Romanians stay with each other and go everywhere together.” C.W.

* “Ah Romania. Where there’s dog poop on the sidewalks and people walk in the streets. Where house cats are all “kitty”, but street dogs all have names.” D.F.

* I waited over an hour on the street while my Romanian friends shopped in three or four expensive stores. They “tsk tsked” about the prices, but eventually all bought something. By then I was starving, and led them to a small, inexpensive restaurant for sandwiches. They came in and looked at the menu above the serving counter. I ordered. Then they said to me, “We have to leave. It’s too expensive here. We’re going to find a cheaper place.” I’ve followed Romanians before when I was faint with hunger and after many hours I was not a pretty sight. So I was not going to traipse around a strange city with a group of Romanians while they discussed what to do. I said, “I already ordered. I’m hungry. I’m going to stay here and eat. Send someone back here in half an hour to get me.” They left, but sat outside, ordering coffee and brownies, and waiting for me. Sigh.

*A man and woman work together on a project; an older woman calls them pigeons: “lovers”. Everyone else giggles. This feels so unprofessional, so adolescent to me.

Wow! It's hard to believe. We are almost finished with our Peace Corps adventure.

What a time it has been!

Next week, Monday-Wednesday, we will be in the Romanian city of Sinaia (a ski resort) for our group's Close of Service conference. We'll learn about our final paperwork (we work for the U. S. government so you can imagine the paperwork!), final medical and dental exams, final grant reports (for Holly's projects), passports after service, how to ship pets home, and how we'll get our "Readjustment Allowance" (this is the money they save for us that helps get people get set up when they return home).

We'll also take hundreds of photos -- including official ones. We'll hug everyone a hundred times. We'll cry, we'll laugh, we'll cheer. This will be the last time that we are together as Peace Corps Volunteers.

I'm reviewing all the information today: COS Manual, travel info, reimbursement info, medical and dental info, health insurance options, etc. I'm feeling overwhelmed by it all, which means it's a good thing we get a whole conference about all this stuff!

At the conference, Dennis and I will make the final decision about when we will actually leave. We must tell the Peace Corps SOMETHING. While we're anxious to get this settled, we also dread it. It will be final by Wednesday. We'll know the dates of the end of our adventure. We'll know when we will return home to Alamosa. We'll know.

We are planning to travel for a few weeks after we COS, but right now have no firm plans. Look for more details throughout March.

I feel the adrenalin warming my tired blood, and I also feel sad.

By "drinking" I mean alcohol.

People here grow grapes and make many kinds of alcohol, including wine, ţuica, and palincă. Ţuica (pronounced tsweek-ah) and palinca (puh-link-ah) are both like rubbing alcohol to me. I've had some that was very, very good, but most of it is awful. Fortunately they usually serve it in small shot glasses.

At every meal people drink ţuica, wine or beer. Romanian's drink very little water or soda. Mostly alcohol.

If you tell someone you want "a finger" of ţuica, meaning only enough in the glass to equal the width of your finger, they say, "Okay, a finger's worth." Then they stand a finger beside the glass and start pouring. Arguing is usually futile.

The other night I went to a meeting of teachers at the Sport School. At the meeting they had a bottle of whiskey and a bottle of a local drink with raspberries. They always have whiskey, scotch, and vodka at meetings. I don't like whiskey and I can't get over our prohibition against alcohol at schools and school functions. Compared to Romanians, we are positively puritanical!

However, the other drink they had was a locally made berry alcohol. A popular local drink here is afinată (ah-feen-ah-tuh). It's made with either vodka or palinka and blueberries. They just put fresh blue berries into the alcohol and let it sit for a few weeks. It is yummy! This particular night they had a similar alcohol but with raspberries rather than blue berries. Okay, it was yummy also. :)

As I drank a second small, very small, VERY small glass of raspberry alcohol my reluctance to drink in a school began to fade.

After the meeting I went with Maria and Adriana to their friend's house for supper. This lady is Brînduşă (broon-dush-ah), which means crocus. Her family lives in a very new, large house on the outskirts of Suceava. More and more Romanians are building these mega-houses. I can't blame them because they've lived for almost 100 years in tiny, cement apartments.

Brînduşă offered us drinks and made me a gin with ice cubes (she didn't have tonic). She served us (but did not eat with us) a first course of chicken şniţel (breaded, fried chicken), pickled beets (yum!), and a gelatinous type of head cheese (gag!). For a second course we had mamaliga (corn mush) with smantana (sour cream), and sarmale (sahr-mah-leh) (baked cabbage rolls). Fortunately I like sarmale so it was okay that I didn't like that other nasty stuff. Desert was chocolate candies.

After two gin drinks Brînduşă gave me a drink made with gratefruit juice and some kind of alcohol. By then I didn't understand what is was and didn't care.

When I finally got home, after climbing the 5 flights of stairs, Dennis said, "Would you like something to drink? I bought you some wine." So, I had a glass, one finger's worth, of locally made wine.

For some reason, the next day I had a headache!

We have 4 bills each month:

* electricity (including a tv and radio tax, we think)

* gas

* water (including hot water, but we don't have to pay for hot water because we have an instant hot water heater in our apartment)

* landlady: Lili Csinta

Yesterday I paid the electricity and gas bills. I went first to our bank, Bancpost, where Peace Corps set up accounts for us. There I withdrew enough cash to pay the bills plus a little extra. The Bancpost has put astroturf on their slick, marble steps so it's safer to get money now.

Then I walk back to the Casa Cultura in the center, or downtown, and walk down Strada Stefan Cel Mare -- Stefan the Great Street. I walk about 4-5 blocks.

From blog pix, Jan 09

I take our bills to the BCR bank. I go to BCR because that's where our landlady, Mrs. Csinta told us to go to pay the bills. Bills can be paid at other banks and at the post office, but she told us to go there, so that's what we do. The BCR bank that I go to is at the end of Strada Stefan cel Mare, where it ends at the Bucovina shopping center.

At the BCR bank is a bill paying robot. That's right, you heard me: a bill paying robot. It stands in the lobby and people can pay their bills in it's chest. Sometimes a person "man's" the robot and helps people pay their bills. Sometimes the robot won't make change. Sometimes people have better things to do so no one keeps the robot company. Here is a picture of me standing by it.

From blog pix, Jan 09

If no one is at the bill paying robot, I take a number, as in this picture, and wait for my turn with a teller. This can be immediate, or entail a long wait. At least here people don't have to stand in line, I can sit in comfortable chairs in the lobby.

To pay the bill I give the teller our bills. The bills have a bar code that is read by the teller with machine like is used in grocery stores. Then, sometimes the teller asks me a question. I've learned that this has something to do with identification. I don't know what Romanian citizen identification is called so I usually just stare at the person when they ask for this. Then they stare back and sometimes ask me for a passport. That's when I tell them that I have a "legitimatie", which is identification for foreigners. They accept this. Whew!

I don't know why the bank teller wants to see my identification. It has something to do with verifying that I live at the address on the bills. Are they afraid that I might pay someone else's bills? Is there a racket in Romania of people paying the wrong electricity bill, like there is a racket in internet fraud? Nu stiu. I don't know.

After paying these bills I return home. On the way up the stairs I look at a chart that shows what each apartment owes for water, cleaning, etc. Here I see our water bill and set that money aside for the landlady.

Sometime after the first of the month our landlady, Lili Csinta comes to visit. At first she seemed frightening to us. She spoke a mile a minute and loud and sharp. Now we really like her. She slows down to talk to me, and she loves our cat. She invited me to her house in August. She cares for street dogs and cats all the time. Here's a picture of her (in the pink dress), me and her friend Julia.

From blog pix, Jan 09

From blog pix, Jan 09

As I've said before, there are no checks in Romania. People use cash or cards for everything. They also rarely use the mail. This means paying bills takes a few hours altogether.

This is a normal process for us -- taking lots of time to do things.

Sad today.

I began to go through our papers, deciding what to keep for now, what to throw away, and what to take back to Colorado with us. I also reviewed information from Peace Corps about our Close of Service Conference and sent information to my two agencies.

Our COS conference is February 23-25, in the mountain city of Sinaia. This is the last time our volunteer group, Group 22, will be together. Until today I was joyfully anticipating this meeting, looking forward to seeing everyone, comparing notes, learning about our final paperwork assignments.

Today I'm reminded that this conference signals the end. Some of our colleagues will leave very soon after the COS conference, others within a month. A few are extending their service for 6-12 months. Most of us will leave some time in May.

Don't get me wrong, I don't want to stay in Romania. This has been my job for 2 1/2 years and I'm glad to finish it. But I leave new friends, new learning, horrible and wonderful experiences. Nothing else like this will happen in my life again.

Wow. I'm sad today.

Last night we watched the inauguration of a new U.S. president, Barak Obama.

From half a globe away it was an exciting opportunity for us. Once again we felt lucky, lucky to have internet access here in Romania. We also have television -- 3 channels with programming in English, including CNN. We were able to see every minute of the ceremony, and we watched the later activities until our eyes drooped.

Over and over the newscasters said, "This is the tradition in America, the peaceful transfer of power."

On behalf of all foreigners who grumble about America, I was glad to see the consideration of the Bushes and Obamas toward each other, the escort to the helicopter, the smiles and waves by all parties (except Dick Cheney, but then he had to leave in a wheelchair!).

I want to shout out to the world, "This is how it's done! You don't need machine guns and tanks and massive bribery. You also can adopt a tradition of peaceful transfer of power. Peace is possible!"

Maybe because I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer right now, I think a lot about peace. Several times since we've been here, there have been outside threats to this country: Russia's invasion of Georgia, a toxic train accident in Ukraine, shut off of natural gas supplies by Russia to Ukraine and Europe. Romania is neighbor to Ukraine, and between Russia and Europe. If serious hostilities broke out, this place would be in the line of fire.

Probably, I will be long gone before something like that occurs. But the people who live here will have nowhere else to go. They'll have to endure invasions and war close up. Some of them still remember the Nazi invasion, and the even worse occupation by Stalin. They don't want to go through that again.

However, I will return to Colorado, a state smack-dab in the middle of the United States of America. We are far from foreign borders and far from oceans. Although foreign countries are a threat, they are distant. Our neighboring states of New Mexico, Kansas, Utah and Wyoming are not likely to invade or threaten us (except for water, but that's resolved in courts!).

We are safe there, in Colorado. We live every day in peace. We may have problems with other people around us or with our lives (such as housing) but not from war. We live separated from war.

Many of us volunteers are hoping that the new administration will expand Peace Corps. That action will relieve the unemployment problem by sending people on extended volunteer assignments, and get the face of America into more corners of the world. The face of America is us, single volunteers living in far flung, isolated spots without the protective and comforting insulation of our homeland.

Yet, we live in peace. Whereever we serve, we serve in peace. We talk to our new foreign friends about democracy and America and hot issues -- and peace. Now we can explain one more important aspect of being American -- peaceful transition of power.

It's what we do.

In America we look people in the eye, but never stare at them. In a land that values personal privacy, staring is considered rude and invasive.

In Romania, people rarely look each other in the eye, and stare unashamedly. In a land of few secrets, keeping eyes lowered is a guard against personal disclosure. Especially for women, avoiding eye contact is important. To look a man directly in the eye is to invite his interest, perhaps inappropriately.

Imagine my alarm when my visiting friend said to me on the train, "Oh good. I finally got the ticket conductor to look at me and smile." "Yipes!" I said. "That means you're interested in him. He's hoping you can meet to be friends or more in an empty compartment." She was very discouraged. "It's so hard here. You can't even be friendly."

As Peace Corps Volunteers, most of us keep our eyes lowered and are not friendly in public. This feels uncomfortable, especially when we've come in peace and friendship!

Also, most of the volunteers complain about the staring. It is blatant, especially if people discover we're foreign. They very obviously eavesdrop. When we stare back, they eventually look away, but they're usually very confused.

These are just a few small cultural differences that make people feel awkward.

Great news and compliments last night!

I've been helping Maria with a group of P.E. teachers who are going to England as part of a sharing project. They're very concerned about their English abilities, so they've asked me to help them with English terms for sports (!), and to have conversation with them. It's easy work for me. I speak English pretty well. :)

Last night Maria asked me if I would go to England with them. They'll pay my airfare there and back, and I'll need to pay for lodging and meals. She said, "It won't be very much because we don't have lots of money." Well, this would be cool. To go to England, where people speak English -- or at least a language very close to English -- with my Romanian friends, and see a bit of Britain! I can't go with them for the whole 2 weeks because we have a Peace Corps meeting Feb 23-25, but I told her I could go after that.

Also last night Mona, the English teacher at the Sport School, came to find me. Last year her 7 year class (7th grade) learned my play, "Bear Says North", and performed it for other classes. Apparently they thought it was very funny. It's about Bear and Fox. In Romania they have a very well-known tale about Bear and Fox that everyone can tell. So, they felt like this play was another story about the same goofy characters.

Mona said that one of her colleagues came to her and suggested she enter a "play festival" with that play. Apparently this story was a hit even with the school kids who saw it. So Mona is very excited. She wants me to help the kids refine the performance and to come to the festival. "De segur!" I told her, "Of course!"

Also last night I went with Maria and Adriana to our friend Tatiana's house for Tatiana's birthday. In Romania when someone has a birthday, they throw a party for their friends; they don't wait for their friends to throw a party for them. They've told me they like our custom better. :) Anyway, we went to Tatiana's for a meal and chocolate cake.

I talked to Tatiana's son, Eddy, who is a geeky teenager and learning to make web sites. He showed me his school's web site which he has been developing. I showed him my plays web site and he said, "Oh. That is very nice. It is very professional looking. You made this? It is very, very nice." Unexpected praise from a geeky teenager is always welcome. At least for me. :)

So! As I said, good news and compliments last night. This morning I asked Dennis to find out the cost of business cards. I'd like to make some for my plays web site to take to the "plays festival" and to England. One never knows!

Oh, my web site, if you didn't know: www.plays4children.com.

At this time, we are not affected by this international political stand off.

We've read that Romania has 2 weeks of natural gas supplies in storage, and up to 6 months if needed.

However, we could see a sharp rise in our heating bills.

Most Romanians live in city apartment buildings which are supplied with water and hot water via gigantic underground pipes. Until recently, this meant most households were at the mercy of the city water schedule. In the past, water was turned off completely after 10:00 PM. Hot water was available only a few hours each day.

These days, most cities have water throughout the night and hot water most of the time as well.

Many people have installed central heating systems in their apartments. We have this in our apartment. This means we can set the temperature to whatever we want and have it remain the same for 24 hours. We also have almost instant hot water for showers, cleaning, and laundry.

This abundance of hot water was unexpected and greatly appreciated. :)

It started Christmas Eve. First big flakes, then windblown flakes, then a blizzard, then a steady continuous dropping of flakes.

Last winter the snow was depressing. At least this year it has come later. Also, we still have our Yak Traks (like snow tires for shoes) so we don't feel so terrified about walking outside. The cities in Romania have millions of cement steps and marble tiles that become slick, slick with snow. How do people keep their footing here? They should all have broken legs or broken backs.

As usual, kids could be seen enjoying the snow. Our neighbor, Codrin and his friends made a temple out of snow. They would make a snowman another day.

From Snow in Suceava blog

Codrin is the boy on the far right. He is always smiling, always cheerful. His buddies are more standard Romanian, demure and unsmiling.

I had just returned from a meeting with the Teachers Association. We heard a report about a teacher's trip to Lithuania, another's trip to England, another's to Norway, and Maria's to Sweden. The teachers are being encouraged to apply to EU sponsored trainings where they make projects with teachers from other countries. Very impressive how many teachers in Suceava County are now part of international teams.

After the reports, we sang carols, Romanian and American/English. This is how I look bundled for travel that day.

From Snow in Suceava blog

Any weight I've lost here was added back and doubled with all that winter wear!

How much bundling are you doing this winter? Any snowman-makers in your vicinity?

In Romania, St. Nicholas Day is almost as important as Christmas (although with western influence Christmas is now winning the holiday competition).

St. Nicholas Day is celebrated on December 6. On this day, children wake up to find in their shoes (or under their pillows -- shades of the Tooth Fairy!) either candy and fruit or a lump of coal and a whip. Obviously, the good kids get candy. Last year, I was given candy by a group of school counselors, but honestly, I think they gave candy to everyone out of politeness. Dennis also received a gift at his workplace -- a whip! I don't think they gave a whip to everyone out of politeness. :)

This year, since we don't have kids nearby, we decided to get a gift for the boy who lives below us, Codrin. He is the cutest 10 year old: always smiling (he keeps losing the memo about living in Romania where no one smiles), always trying to speak English to us, always filled with some new game that we don't understand. We bought a nice, pictorial encyclopedia sort of book with lots of science info and cool pictures. We wrote a note in the front in both English and Romanian. (Hey, given time, we can write Romanian pretty well!)

We went to Codrin's apartment and his father met us at the door. This man has barely spoken to us, but has been cordial. He said once, "I don't speak English very well. I only understand some." Just like that, almost perfect English! But like most Romanians he is bashful about his English. When he saw us at the door he seemed slightly alarmed, probably wondering what sort of apartment problem we needed help with. The last time he helped us was to rescue our cat from a basement storage room.

We explained that we were going on vacation, but we wanted to leave a gift for Codrin for St. Nicholas Day, if that was okay. Of course we spent about 10 minutes trying to get this simple message across. Once he understood, the father was stunned, and even became teary eyed. (People here love their children so much!) He said thanks over and over. Later Codrin brought us some holiday bread from his Mom as thanks for the gift.

Last night Codrin came to our door to sing us a Christmas carol. Last year he did this, but he was terrified of us and ran off as he was singing the last lines. And we knew carolling happened but we didn't know what to do exactly. This year we knew to give carollers 1 lei (like giving 50 cents). And this year Codrin wasn't scared of us so he could sing the whole song then even come in and talk to us for a minute.

Today Dennis is in the center watching the kids slide on the new snow and chase each other and pigeons. He said it's a great time.

Christmas really is for children. I'm so glad we have Codrin in our lives here, even just a little bit.

As we approach the end of our service in Romania, and the end of 2008, I'm reflecting about so many things, including this blog.

I had no idea, when we left for Peace Corps service, how difficult it would be to keep a blog. Maybe I envisioned a chipper travelogue about sites and sounds and happenings. Little did I know what a challenge this would be. The sites here are often ugly, the sounds frightening, and the smells horrific.

The biggest challenge is to post about the place and people without belittling or humiliating them. So many of our "adventures" are the result of misunderstandings; usually humorous, but many serious. Do I write about all that? Do I share the real frustration of living in a foreign culture? It would be so easy to tell the stories in a way that demeans others, especially since we so often feel demeaned ourselves.

For example, the story about running to catch the night train. This is funny now, but at the time we were frustrated by the unpredictably locked door on our car, and the "I could care less" attitude of the man blocking our progress. This particular story I can tell without too much negativity. But there are so many more!

Am I really just a Big Complainer? I used to see myself as optimistic, rising above all that nasty emotional stuff. But truthfully, many times I've felt angry, extremely pissed off, humiliated beyond belief. I have felt that the people here were less than me because they don't behave well or predictably. Then I feel guilty; they are just people after all, living their lives, doing the best they can.

I came across another blog, called Can of Worms, by a man serving in Iraq. Although he also expresses frustration, he told an optimistic, positive story. He has less to feel positive about than I. I was humbled by that person and his insightful blog.

I've tried different approaches to this blog: a daily recording of weather (boring -- for me at least), a daily recording of activity (also boring, especially when days go by and I don't leave the apartment), a record of the interesting stories I hear (like gypsy fortune telling -- that was fascinating), an outlet for emotions (this turns into an "ad nauseum" recording about home sickness).

I've also been challenged by the concept of chronology in a blog. There are so many adventures. I often felt I couldn't tell one until I told another. Then I didn't tell any. I've pretty much abandoned this problem now. I just tell a story when I feel like telling it, not when it happened. So just know, the date of the blog is not always the date of the tale.

As we approach the end of our service, I feel a need to get stories told, out of the way -- like spring cleaning for the memory ... and the soul.

So please bear with me; this blog, if posted at all, may be ugly, frightening, smelly.

And maybe, just maybe, it will also contain tiny, germinating seeds of joy.

Any thoughts about what has been helpful or not so helpful about this blog? (Besides the long silences -- I know! I know!) What would you like to hear about? What are your burning questions about the Peace Corps or Romania? And more important, what are YOUR plans for the new year?

Back from Istanbul, safe and sound. We also had a great visit with Brianna here in Suceava. She had many adventures trying to return home, however. In Rome, her flight to Chicago was cancelled (she never did get a clear reason), and she spent a free day there with new, international friends. The saga of their trials with AlItalia Airlines is funny and scary. I asked her to write it all down. It could be a book!

Istanbul was warmer than Suceava. We occasionally wore jackets and hats, but mostly at night. It was also overcast most of the time we were there. The worst cold was our boat ride through the Bosporus Straits. Brrrrr!

From Istanbul Blog 2008

We stayed at a hostel in the center of the old city, which is on the Europe side of Turkey. We were within walking distance of the Blue Mosgue, the Sancta Sofia cathedral, and the Topkapi Palace. Perfect location! We like the Sancta Sofia cathedral the most of these three. Here it's called Haga Sofia. It was built by Justinian, the first official Christian Emperor of the Roman Empire. Picture a giant building made ALL of marble. Fabulous.

From Istanbul Blog 2008

From Istanbul Blog 2008

The Topkapi Palace is a museum. For some reason we thought it would have more the feel of the palace when it was operational. Instead we saw room after room of gold and jewel encrusted stuff: thrones, beds, clothes, swords, goblets, necklaces, shoes, blankets, etc. If it was used by the Sultan, it was made of gold. Or so it seemed! The best part of this site was all the cats sitting on the lawn waiting for attention from adoring visitors. Of course I have pictures! The Palace Cats! :D

From Istanbul Blog 2008

From Istanbul Blog 2008

We tried to eat at different restaurants for every meal. We especially searched for seafood, which we cannot find in Romania. (Go figure!)

From Istanbul Blog 2008

We shopped for carpets, jewelry, tiles, scarves, exotic trinkets. The store owners stand outside the door and invite you in: "I have a beautiful carpet for you, Madam." or to Dennis, "Sir, your wife will want to see our jewelry." But they were always polite, and after seeing us for several days, made jokes with us.

Dennis went into one carpet store and told them he was just there to talk, he didn't have enough money for carpets. The man said to him, "Sir, where are your angels today?" He was referring to me and our Romanian friend Monica who was along with us. Dennis did not deny his "angels", but rather replied, "They are shopping elsewhere, and I have another coming in tonight." He got a LOT of respect in Turkey. :)

Also, Dennis was frequently approached by young men who took his hand, kissed the back of it, and held it to their foreheads. We don't know if this is common as a show of respect or was particularly prevalent because we were there during the holiest holiday of Islam: The Feast of the Sacrifice. Dennis, a good Yankee American, was bothered by these displays of affection.

We went into one shop which Monica had spotted as having scarves. The man was very congenial and his prices were very good (and marked! No haggling!). He had a loom set up in the shop and he showed us how it worked and explained that his family was from Anatolia and had been weavers -- both men and women -- for three generations. They weave silk and wool and cotton into scarves and blankets. He even had silkworm cocoons for us to shake. That was the best store experience we had.

From Istanbul Blog 2008

The shop owners, if you appear serious at all, order tea. They invite you to sit down in their shop, then suddenly a young man appears with a tray laden with cups of hot apple tea. (Delicious!) The tea drinking is part of the negotiating. At first we all uncomfortable with this generosity, but then we learned to enjoy it.

I loved being in this ancient city. With more time, I would explore the oldest history and go across to the Asia side of the city. I would also buy carpets!

Where does a Peace Corps Romania volunteer go to get away from the cold, gloomy northern winter and the ... well ... the Peace Corps?

South!

We leave today for Istanbul, Turkey.

I never thought in my life I would be able to visit this exotic, historic city. Dream come true! Brianna joins us for this trip, and then will stay another week with us in Suceava.

In Romania, they say "Drum bun!" Good road!

I walked into Bucovina Ladies Society (BLS) one evening and they all suddenly laughed. Mihaela, the Director, said to me, "How is Dennis's mother?"

This is one of those moments when you're pretty sure you missed something.

I remember many years ago when a Burmese man was doing research at the water office where Dennis worked. One day he walked in and the boss said, "Win! You got your ears lowered!" U Win smiled uncertainly and reached up to touch his ears. He said, "No, I think I only cut my hair."

I walked in to the BLS office that evening because a new prenatal class was meeting. Paula had asked me to bring water, which was no problem. When I walked in and faced the sudden laughter and strange question, I thought maybe I'd forgotten something, or was dressed wrong. Everyone in the room was grinning at me, waiting for my answer.

Mihaela and Paula explained to me that when someone arrives as you are fixing a meal, it is said that the guest's mother-in-law must be strong. Can I just say, at that moment, this still was confusing? :/

They told me that they were preparing food for a special holy day that day -- although no one could remember exactly what the significance of the day was -- and that the meal included fish. I had walked into the office as the meal was being prepared. Ah. Of course. I didn't know about the holy day -- as far as I can tell, every other day is here is a holy day and most days involve fasting.

But when I asked why they were asking about my mother-in-law, they struggled to explain. They either don't know why they say this, or can't explain it in English, or don't want to explain it. They just said that it means my mother-in-law must be strong. Is this because she's not feeding me? Nu stiu. I don't know.

Mihaela finally said, "It's not very nice. It can be a kind of insult, depending on how you feel about your mother-in-law."

I said, "Oh. Well. My mother-in-law is dead. We were very close."

She said, "Oh. Well. This is a kind of memory for you then." And she started shuffling papers.

Ah, culture and communication. Be gentle with the foreigners among you!

We just had a "site visit" from Peace Corps.

This means several Peace Corps staff come to a volunteer's town and house to see if the volunteer is still okay. This time the visit was both medical and security. Dr. Dan came to ask if we felt okay and give flu shots if necessary. Florin, the Security Officer came to make sure we were still safe. And the Country Director, Ken Goodsen, came to, well, just to talk I guess.

These visits are to ensure that the volunteer is truly okay at site, identify problems before they get too big. Maybe the visits are also a great reason to travel outside the capital city. Nu stiu. I don't know.

Ken wanted to talk to us about the future of Peace corps in Romania. This is a hot topic among us volunteers. Right now Romania is experiencing so many changes, so rapidly. Yet many areas of the county remain woefully primitive, uneducated and isolated. We've all been campaigning to get volunteers into small villages and avoid, if possible, placing people in cities. Already this change is occurring, and the volunteers are almost all Teachers of English as a Foreign Language (TEFL). Now that Romania is in the European Union, the people will become more and more informed, more worldly.

Anyway, nice visit. Our little cat showed off her fetch game to the visitors. They had all met her when she was cared for at the Peace Corps office, so were glad to see her so healthy and active. She had been a very sick cat with them. Now we return to our regular program. :)

Yesterday I had lunch and great conversation with Elana, an Isreali who is living in Suceava. She and her husband have lived in Canada for the last 20 years. Three of her children are in Israel, the youngest is in Toronto, Canada.

I asked her about longing. I said, “You left Israel 20 years ago knowing that you would be living in Canada. Did you ever long for home?”

She said, “Oh, I still do. I long for my home in Israel. It never goes away. And with my children spread across the globe, it’s even worse.”

Aşa. Words of consolation.

I am not crazy and not punished. Longing for one's homeland appears to be normal, and unfortunately, all too common.

If you know someone in your community who is from another country, please be friendly to them. No matter what they are doing, they are sad.

Melancholy.

Another gray, dreary day in Suceava, Romania.

The ancient Greeks and Romans used a terrible punishment to keep people in line: exile.

I used to think this was pretty silly, "Ho hum. Exile. For one year. Poor fellow. He must eat and drink and live somewhere else. He is alive, breathing, not a slave." Clearly, this punishment does not seem as tough as, say, torture or enslavement. Yet it was considered a very severe punishment. Certainly harsh enough to maintain order.

Peace Corps service is different from military service because we are simply dropped off alone in some strange, foreign place and asked to live there and be good neighbors for two years. We don't have a troop of comrades and a common cafeteria. We may have internet and phones, but we are not at home. We are separate. We are exiled. We are exiles.

Today I feel exiled. Although I live and breathe and eat and sleep, I feel almost dead inside. My longing for home -- my home and my food and my people -- is painful. My heart aches so that I bleed tears.

First, we sent our mail-in ballots for the presidential election.

Second, when we received our absentee ballot from Alamosa County, we filled out and mailed our ballots back. We only had a week, so we're crossing our fingers that our ballots actually arrive in time to be counted.

From Blog pix

Here we are in Suceava with our sealed ballots, on our way to te shipping company. It cost us $140 to get them sent extra fast!

Some Romanians said to me, "You want so much to vote?" I said, "Yes. We believe in voting." They said, "We don't believe very much in voting. We think it doesn't matter." I said, "A lot of people in America also feel that way. In my family, we believe in voting. We taught our kids how important it is. Someday, it will feel important to you as well."

Participate in the democracy you have -- vote!

A woman beggar occasionally sits on a grassy area near our apartment. I walk past her on my way to the bus station. She usually has a child with her. In winter she sits on cardboard and blankets.

When Eric was visiting, we passed her and I explained about her. Eric, like most Americans, wanted to give her something but also didn't want to encourage begging. The next day, when we passed that spot, the woman was there again. Eric said, "She's back!" I said, "Yes. This is what she does. This is her work." I think at that moment Eric, who has traveled to many places, finally understood begging as a lifestyle.

The woman is Rroma: gypsy. Like many other Rroma here, she begs when she needs food or money, the rest of the time she stays home. People are annoyed by this situation, but also tend to give. I frequently see people give money to beggars on the street, so of course, they are encouraging the problem.

Begging is against the law, so police run beggars off. We've seen restaurant people run off beggars, then other times give them bread.

Yesterday, when I left our apartment, I thought about that beggar woman I pass. I was taking a bag of apples to the office of the Bucovina Ladies Society. I was also going to walk past the local McDonald's, so I loaded my pocket with small change -- 5 bani coins that no one uses but we accumulate piles of. I wanted to give the small change to the donation box at McDonald's. (Sounds like home, eh?)

I thought that if the woman was begging in her usual spot, I would give her the apples. But she wasn't there. No sign of her. I was disappointed because that meant I had to carry that heavy bag of apples all the way to the BLS office. Oh well.

About an hour later I returned home. And there, unfortunately, was the beggar woman. I had no apples and no small change to give her. I kept my eyes ahead, wishing she had better timing, or would at least post her office hours.

Sigh. On more disappointment.

We thought we were being unreasonable about our expectation that people stand in line and wait their turn. Then we read this description in a Bucareşti tour guide, written by Romanians about Romanians:

"Romanians spent most of the 1980s standing in line. There were long queues for every basic foodstuff, and as a result, people became very good at all kinds of line jumping tactics. While queues today are less common, the skills learnt in the past continue to be employed, and are now passed on from generation to generation. Do not, visitor, make the mistake of standing patiently in line. You will get nowhere. Whether at the post office or your local KFC, it's survival of the fittest, so have your elbows ready and watch your flanks.

The concept of personal space has yet to reach these parts. When in a queue, expect the person behind you to quite literally breathe down your neck, and when at a counter (in a bank, post office, buying tickets, etc.) you will probably find people on both sides, listening to every word and trying to interrupt in order to get the teller's attention. When inputting your PIN at a shop or supermarket, you can expect a large audience to watch you do it."

This description is absolutely true in Romania. One day I was standing in line at the Post Office when a nun ran in, ran up to the window where I was waiting, conducted her business, then ran out again. No one else seemed to mind, but I was angry. I thought maybe nuns had special line jumping status. Now I know she was just Romanian, and the other people would have done the same thing if they'd felt the need.

Now I've learned to crowd. When I bought my monthly bus pass this week, I stood close behind the 2 teen boys already there. A ten-year-old came up and crowded close as though he would get in front of me. So I shuffled closer to the older boys and kept a shoulder in front of the boy.

At the window, I kept that shoulder in front of that boy, and handed in my money and current pass. The boy now had his face almost inside the window. He watched avidly as I passed in money and as money was passed back to me. I almost elbowed him in the face as I conducted my business.

The kids are not taught how to "wait" in line. I think people here, as the article says, don't even know this concept.

I'm guessing that when Romanians visit America, they get growled at a lot until they learn to step back, to wait their turn, to respect other's privacy. Of course, this is how people "ought" to behave, regardless of their culture, because it's how I behave. Sigh. Cultural sensitivity is a b----.

I hear crowding is even worse in China. Anyone know for sure?

Saturday was the last session of the first prenatal class hosted by Bucovina Ladies Society.

Eight women attended. At every session there were at least 2 men; altogether five.

From Blog pix

I'm in the middle here, with my ag-ed belly in the midst of their pregnant bellies.

From Blog pix

A dad listens intently. The dads asked a lot of questions.

They were all very happy for the information and the chance to talk to medical professionals about what to expect during their child's birth. They especially enjoyed the trip to the hospital where they were allowed to see the labor and delivery rooms and the nursery.

Through grants and donations, we were able to give them baby care products and books.

This is a "feel good" project. No one can think of why it would be bad. The newspaper was quite supportive and donors were pleased to participate.

This project did not exist before I came. It might have developed without me. However, my presence and involvement insured its success.

I've helped this community and some young people.

Can I leave now?

Our friend Nancy has been here for 2 weeks. She left Friday.

From Nancy's visit

This picture is of me and Nancy at the beginning of her visit. (Note that she is smiling.)

We showed her our castle of Stefan the Great, our painted monasteries, the marketplace near us, the fancy store Carrefoure and the less fancy store Kaufland. She ate a Betty Ice icecream cone while watching pigeons and small children trying to catch the pigeons. She climbed our 5 flights of stairs climbed in and out of trains, and up and down hills. She tolerated our small apartment, our cat, our favorite Romanian commercials and our favorite restaurant, and even our fights.

Poor woman! This was supposed to be her vacation!

From Nancy's visit

We come out at the top of narrow, winding castle stairs.

From Nancy's visit

End of her visit. She is still smiling, even though we stuffed her into the narrowest street in Romania.

We were happy to have her here. Sad to see her go. After all, she gets to return, we must stay. :(

In our early months in Romania, we were confused about celery.

The dictionary has the word: ţelina. We found ţelina as an ingredient in lots of salads in restaurants, but when the salad arrived, we saw no sign of celery. We thought maybe the celery was left out in certain seasons.

We didn't see celery for sale at the piaţa, or the bazaar. We always looked for celery at the grocery store but never saw it. Sometimes, when our Romanian was better, we saw "ţelina" labeling a strange looking tuber: large, round, pimpled, dull brown -- ugly!

As you may have guessed, we eventually learned that Romanians eat the root of the celery plant. They cut off the stalks and leaves and throw them away. Then they peel the huge round root and grate it into salads, or use it in various dishes. It's like a turnip.

We learned to like ţelina, the root of celery, but we've missed the celery we know.

Then, last week, at the new Carrefour store, Dennis saw stalks of celery. He was standing beside them when a couple and their friend began talking about the celery. They held up the stalks and laughed and joked. They said, "This isn't celery. These are ugly old stalks. No one will eat this crap!"

Everything about this plant is edible -- seeds, root, stalk, leaves -- yet many cultures only eat parts of it. I'm wondering if there are other cultures where the people eat only the leaves of celery, and think the root and stalks are nasty.

What do you think, should we be eating all of the celery? Or is it okay if we only eat parts, like eating the cow but not the brains. (That's another blog! The Brain Incident.)

:)

Maria and Adriana came to me worried, "You are okay? You don't sing. You are so quiet. You are okay?"

"Oh," I said. "Yes, I'm fine. Tired."

"But you are okay here?"

"Yes, yes."

We were at a shooting range in Solca, a small town west of Suceava. The man who runs it is a national champion who competed in the Olympics in Moscow. He seems almost ashamed to admit this, and quickly turns conversation to his brother-in-law who has won many more awards. When we leave, he says to us, "I am so honored to have you here. I want to build a nice facility here, with beds and restaurant, as a base of training."

When Dennis shot the pistol, the man was honestly impressed, "I could not do this well." He said, "I think you have shot before." I said, stupidly, "Of course. He's an American from the west."

Suddenly I want to be American. I want to say, when someone reminds me how to cross the street, "We invented crosswalks, you know. We invented lights and stop signs. Heck, we invented traffic!"

I want to say, "We invented guns, you know. Well, maybe someone else invented them, but we put them to use, put them into everyone's hands, gave them rights."

I want to be alone.

We've had visitors and travels and expectations and difficulties since May. I want slow times again for awhile. I want to drift away into dreams, escape through reading, writing, research. I wish I found escape easily.

I like afinata, the blueberry alcohol they make here. Angela's is the best. She said she made it with blueberries collected in the forest.

Also, I like being warm. I'm too old for cold wind and icy windows. I want to be warm, warmed, covered, blanketed. Solca is cold, windy, uncomfortable for me.

Last week was Summer School for Adults with the Teachers Association of Suceava, and this week is Summer School for Children. We had 4 volunteers visiting last week to help with presentations to the teachers, and taking pictures. This week we're expecting 5-7 volunteers. They all stay with us, and we feed and care for them. Part of being a Peace Corps Volunteer is helping other volunteers with projects, and sleeping on their floors. :)

This weekend the Teachers Association will go on a retreat into the mountains to relax after all this hard work. For us, of course, it won't be that relaxing to be surrounded by foreign speakers and wondering what happens next. But after the weekend we'll finally be able to relax. And nap. Take lots, and lots, of naps. :0

As Peace Corps Volunteers in Romania, we are not very far away from the current conflict in Georgia between that country and Russia. Peace Corps has volunteers serving in Georgia, indeed it was one of the countries we thought we might be assigned to.

With recent hostilities, Peace Corps has evacuated all volunteers and trainees from Georgia. They are currently staying in Armenia, waiting to see what will happen, if they'll be allowed to go back.

I think I know how the serving volunteers serve. They've been secretly wishing for a good reason to go home, return to their families and their lives. But now that such a thing is possible, they really just want to return to their sites. They have projects underway, friends, neighborhoods they were finally acquainted with. Probably most of them, if given the option of returning home or waiting, will wait.

At least we know they're safe for now, and those of us in Romania, just across the Black Sea, are relieved.

Yesterday Paula and I went back downtown for fundraising visits. I told her that I noticed more traffic than usual on the streets. She told me there were two reasons:

August 7 is a holiday, especially for country people. The holiday is called Scimbara de Faţa, or Change of Face. It celebrates the middle of the year when the days become shorter and the nights longer. On this day, farmers drink 40 (yes, 4-0) shots of ţuica with honey. Ţuica (tswee-kah) is a home-made alcohol that everyone here makes from their grapes. It's very strong. I asked Paula how the ţuica and honey tastes. She didn't know, she's never had any. Then she said, "This day is the holiday, and also tomorrow." I started to ask why, but then knew the answer, "Ah, the second day is because they're all sick from the ţuica and honey." She laughed and said, "Yes. I think so."

The other reason for all the traffic is that most European companies give their employees vacation in August. Many, many Romanians work in Europe and they all come home for their summer holiday. We stood on a street corner and watched cars. Paula pointed out the cars with out-of-country license plates. Probably one car in three was foreign. That's a lot of extra vehicles on an already crowded street system.

I looked up "midsummer in Wikipedia and it said, as I suspected, that midsummer is celebrated at the summer solstice. I couldn't find a specific mid-summer celebration that occurs in August. I'm guessing that in Romania, this time of year is when farmers can take a short break. The crops are growing, animals are fat, not a lot to do. Might as well drink ţuica -- oh, and go to church as an alternative. :)

These people have lots of parties throughout the year. I think I like the idea of the Change of Face celebration. Rather than making resolutions, as on New Year's, a person simply changes their face, faces the rest of the year, in August. After one honey of a party.

As I've said, we think of this as the land of feast or famine. Either there's food and activity a-plenty, or none at all.

Yesterday was a day of famine for activity. I was to go to Bucovina Ladies Society to help with fundraising. When I called before going in, I was told they were moving everything around in the office, and it would be awhile. Better to wait. Of course, I knew nothing about this move. Was it planned? Had I missed something, some clue, some hint? Their office hallway has been cluttered for the last two months to make way for painting. But moving everything?

Dennis, meanwhile, has again been displaced at his office for the moment by visiting Ukrainians.

The big problem with this is that we never know what will happen. We think we face a very busy day, then have nothing to do. We think we will work through lunch, like every other day, so we eat a big breakfast, then we eat a giant meal hosted by another agency. We think we'll have a da at home, then suddenly we get called, or our counterpart gets called, and we're off on a trip to nearby towns.

Most of this is communication problems. One weekend I had planned to go to Bucareşti for the "swearing in" of the new volunteers. I'd worked with them for two weeks, and got to know several of them very well. Also, the event was at the house of the U.S. Ambassador. Seemed like a great opportunity to me.

On Saturday, before we left, the teachers had a spring symposium with traditional Ukrainian dances, about 20 workshops, and over 50 participants. Afterwards, I said to one of the planners, "What happens next?" She said, "Now you go home, get Dennis, and we'll pick you up to go to ____." I asked, "Why would we go to ___?" She said, "To relax! For vacation!" I said, "I can't go to ___. I'm going to Bucareşti tomorrow."

Maria, my counterpart, was extremely unhappy with me. She said she had told me about this weekend jaunt. I knew I had heard nothing. Also, in fairness to her, I had said nothing about going to Bucareşti. I knew it would be a short trip, so I didn't think it would affect anything.

So there I was with two events. Feast.

Yesterday, we spent the day at home, surfing the "net" and washing dirty dishes.

Sigh. A day of famine.

Thanks to my sister Jennifer and my brother Eric, we were able last night to enjoy a totally American food experience. We ate pancakes with maple syrup! I know, sounds simple, but it was great.

Romanian food is very good, just not what we're used to. And the people are very proud of their Romanian cuisine.

A major dish is sarmale. This is meat, usually sheep and pork, wrapped in cabbage leaves and baked in a light sort of tomato sauce. Here is Brianna being served sarmale at a dinner given by my teachers association. Although she looks dubious, she really liked all the food. :)

Along with sarmale, Romanians always serve mamaliga, a kind of corn meal mush which must be eaten with sour cream.

We're told that mamaliga is a very traditional Romanian food, however, we know the Europeans didn't have corn until the discovery of the Americas. So either mamaliga is only as traditional as the 1500's, or it was originally made with another local grain. I vote for the second theory because these folks have so many ancient traditions.

For example, traditionally Romanians offer special bread and a pinch of salt to visitors.

Also, they love having lots of food a special occasions, like weddings:

and at New Year's.

Another popular food event for Romanians, is grilling. When the weather is nice, they are outside of town camping and grilling.

In this photo you'll see the ever-present mici (meech), a kind of sausage usually made from pork and beef and sometimes sheep's meat. Everyone loves mici. When people find out we're American, they ask, "How do you like Romania? Have you tried our mici?"

Another popular grilling time is the day after Easter. We spent Easter 2007 with the family of our gazda (host family) in a mountain village.

Interestingly, in Romania most men don't cook at all, but just like in America, they are the "grillers"! :)

So, besides Mexican food (another blog topic of it's own), what's to miss about American food?

:) Thanks to Jenny for the largesse, and to Eric for carrying it. :)

I've been reading articles and email chats about the death of the English language.

It seems that emails and text messages have caused our use of good grammar and punctuation to slide toward hell. How can a Great Society maintain itself in the world if the young people can't use capital letters and only speak in code: "u m8k me LOL :0"?

I feel differently about this issue than I did a year ago. I am a writer, so I know how to use punctuation and grammar and words. I've felt dismay when others could not. One of those others, sadly, is my own son.

A typical email from my son looks like this: hi mom hows it goin good, i hope been think about you. we ent on a all day trip down the green last week sweet, water was high think about you, love ..."

Grimace. :/

However, currently I live around the planet from my son, and he is rarely at a computer or phone where he can contact me. When I get the rare, rambling, almost illegible message from him, my heart soars. I'm happy for hours. I know he's okay, leading his life joyfully as a rafting guide, and that he actually thought about me long enough to get to a computer and generate an email.

My daughter, on the other hand, sends me text messages on our cell phones. In the middle of the day I'll receive a random message: "Im so tired, mama." or "skype?" or "Yay!" We've texted through my travels across the Romanian countryside and through her job interviews. Though far, far apart, we are connecting almost every day. Bad spelling? Stupid code? I don't care when I get a message like this: "saw firewrks mama so glad to b americn"

Language has long been a measure of "civilization". People who speak "correctly" are considered better educated and certainly better qualified as people. In America, we all listen to the same nightly news (or at least we used to) and now we don't have distinctive regional accents like we used to. We think we're all better sounding as a result.

However, the British consider our accent to be dreadful. We mutilate English grammar, slur our words, and hopelessly mangle crisp verbal concepts. What's a Parent Civilization to do?

In Romania, on the other hand, people like America and American English. We've had people apologize for speaking to us with a British accent because that's the English they learned. We're amused by this, because as Americans we don't really care if someone has an accent, certainly we don't care about a British accent. It's the British who care about that.

So here we are in a land where people WANT to speak our language, the language that is supposedly dying from misuse.

Shortly after arriving here, I heard that Romanian has 30,000 words. I was shocked and scared. This meant I had to learn 30,000 words! Plus their versions of plural! And past tense! And then stick it into grammar! No way! Impossible Mission, People!!

But wait! Then we heard, through several different sources, that English, in comparison, has 3,000,000 words. Huh? THREE MILLION?!? And these people WANT to learn this language?

It seems that the English language has a tremendous capacity for flexibility. We easily add new words and phrases and -- gasp! -- learn them. An English dictionary is out-of-date almost the minute it's conceived. I even found, in an Oxford Dictionary at our apartment, a listing of text message codes. LOL= Laugh Out Loud. BTW=By The Way. BFD=Big F.... Deal.

One of our young colleagues, who considers himself a lady's man, was talking with some Romanian young women on a train. They said to him, "You make us lol." He said, "What? I make you what?" They said, "You know, lol." He finally understood and told them, "Oh, we don't say lol. We say Laugh Out Loud. L-O-L is just a code for Laugh Out Loud." Even he, modern young communicator of the internet age, was amused by this example of mis-communication.

So, in summary, I believe we can tolerate, and even learn new words, codes and rules. Speaking as a member of a Great Society, I am ridiculously happy that my kids can communicate with me, in ANY form! :0

When Romanians celebrate occasions, they say, "La mulţi Ani!" (lah mooltz ahn) which means "many years". They have a song for all these occasions, which can sometimes sound like a dirge if engineers sing it.

Yesterday was our 32nd anniversary. Dennis bought shrimp, ice cream and wine which he made into a nice dinner for us. He went to the new Carrefour store which is like a Target store, then he brought the groceries home by bus. An American/Romanian experience. :)

As for our work day, Dennis went to work, but a group of Ukrainians are visiting his agency, so he left so they could use his desk. Most days he helps with translations or just zooms around on the internet until someone tells him something is happening.

I had planned to go to BLS, but when Dennis came home early we decided to call it a day of celebration. Before you smirk about that, please know that I took a long nap. :0

Doing Peace Corps service together was a goal of ours since we met and married. After 30 years we were finally in a position to apply and join. Now, we're almost done. This has been a tough experience in so many ways, but it was good to have a partner.

Here we are looking a heck of a lot like tourists, at a village near Baie Mare, in north west Romania. We still look okay, I think. Hmm. What do you think? :0

Lots of activity yesterday.

In the morning I met with the teachers to work on summer school (Aug 18-28). They were talking to a man who owns a driving school and who has agreed to have the children come to his "classroom" to learn about safety and driving. Everyone in Romania is basically a new driver. A few people have been driving since 1989, but most have only been driving for about 5 years. Imagine the highways filled with all new drivers, and the roads are narrow and twisty and crumbling, and there are horse carts and old people and kids on bikes and dogs, and there are also large delivery trucks that stop in the middle of the road. Can you get the idea that driving is very dangerous here?

After meeting with the driving school owner, the teachers reviewed the schedule for the summer school. The first week will be for teachers, the second week for kids. I have invited several PC volunteers to give presentations, and others to help with the kids.

They told me they decided to wait to talk to more sponsors because right now everyone is asking for donations for the people affected by the floods. Whole villages have been destroyed, and I've heard that 6 people have died. For Romania, this is a very serious disaster. And every afternoon we get more rain!

Maria, my counterpart, told me she is now going on vacation to Greece until August 10, so the teachers won't be doing a lot for awhile. This is the kind of thing that frustrates most PC volunteers. Just when you think a lot is happening, someone leaves for a week or two, and everything stops. Then you wonder what to do with yourself.

After leaving the teachers, I walked to the bus stop near Kaufland grocery store. On the street, an older woman spoke to me. I said, in very good Romanian, "I don't speak Romanian." Then I realized how stupid that sounded, so I said, "I speak Romanian a little." She said, "But you understand Romanian?" I had to admit, "Da." She asked where I was from, surprised as most people are that I'm from America. (People think we're crazy to be Romania when so many of them want desperately to go to America!) She asked if I was returning to Romania. This was a compliment to my Romanian accent, which I am always glad to get. We talked for a few more minutes before parting. She bowed slightly, "Thank you for talking to me. Good health," she said.

At the bus stop I bought a Fornetti pontino which is like a small square pizza. The Fornetti stands are common in Romania and they provide a kind of Italian fast food. The small pizzas are great for lunch. Usually people barely eat lunch. They eat large breakfasts and late, large suppers. For us, that feels like starving!

I took the bus to Bucovina Ladies Society (BLS), where I once again survived the street crossing. I try to cross with a group of Romanians, figuring a crowd of locals is safer. However, there were no others waiting to cross so I had to be brave by myself. Eek!

At BLS, Paula was finishing a summary about the childbirth classes. Our plan was to approach sponsors for support for the classes. At the office, I talked with Marian, who is the young brother of Mihaela, the Director. Mihaela's mother is the doctor who teaches the nursing classes at BLS. Marian saw my cell phone and said, "Do you know how to read your messages? Let me show you." He snatched it and played with it, showing me stuff I already knew. I tolerate this because I figure this is a great opportunity for him to practice speaking English. He told me he has been accepted to go to the theological High School in Botoşani (boh-toh-shahn). Here, the high schools are like specialized small colleges.

Paula and I headed for downtown in the rain. We went to the office of a large book store and learned the director is on vacation until next week. We went to the store, then office of a large children's clothing store and learned the directors are on vacation and they don't do sponsorships anyway. We stopped at a newly opened children's store and they wanted to give us money, which Paula declined because she was asking for certain items to help with the classes. This person told us that many people had come by asking for help because of the floods. We went to another children's store, and though the director was on vacation, the person took our information and discussed it with Paula. We were disappointed that everyone is on vacation. It delays the printing of the brochure if we're going to put the sponsors on it. However, Paula was mostly optimistic. I bought her an ice cream for working so hard. She hasn't done this before, and it can be intimidating.

I returned home, climbing all those steps, to meet Dennis. We were invited to a dinner event for his agency, GEC Bucovina. It was a very nice gathering. People were there from Suceava, neighboring counties Botoşani and Falticeni, and Ukraine. A lot of certificates were given out for environmental projects people carried out. Dennis and I also received certificates (Why? I don't know.) One was for DENISS and the other for HOLY. We are quite amused.

After the dinner, a few beers at a restaurant called Taco Loco. Then home.

We talk about Romania being the land of feast or famine. Either there's more food than can possibly be eaten, or there's no food at all. Either there's more activity than can possibly be fit into a day, or there's no activity at all. This was a feast day of activity for me.

Rain again yesterday in the afternoon. The news is carrying stories about flooding in the Suceava area. We even saw a report about President Basescu visiting Suceava. We did not see him, of course. Or maybe he stopped by to check on us and we were out. (shrug)

Worked at home yesterday. BLS has a big EU grant inspection and the Teachers Association did not meet.

In the evening, after more rain showers, we went to our favorite local restaurant, No Limit. That's it's name: No Limit. We're sure people know it's English, but do they understand what it means? Really?

We go to No Limit because it's very close to our apartment, we like the diversity of food, and the staff have learned to cope with our faulty Romanian. Most restaurants here offer a basic Romanian menu of soups and ciorba, versions of cabbage salad, pizza, and mici (meech) a kind of sausage. No Limit has, also, great salads and some German dishes which we don't know but are tasty.

When we first started going to No Limit, the staff was frightened of us. Now that I know Romanian better, I understand why. After we ordered they were wondering if we wanted a small salad (salata mica) or salad with mici, because we mis-pronounced the word for small. :/ Fortunately, the lady who owns the restaurant, though busy, has a good sense of customer service. Especially when she saw us coming in a lot, she encouraged her staff to be patient with us, to verify orders, to not be afraid to wait on us because we tip very well. We suspect she tells people, "I have these Americans who come in all the time, and they ..." Wouldn't you be impressed, if you were ordinary Romanians? :)

So now, they just take our orders and sometimes seem amused, but not scared. Does this mean we have integrated into the community? We still stand out, but the community of No Limit has stretched itself to include and tolerate us.

Yesterday, Monday, I spent working for the Bucovina Ladies Society (BLS).

My colleagues and I think this is a great name, because it sounds like a bunch of women getting together to drink tea. Of course, this is Romania, not England, so the people drink chai rather than tea and there is no "tea time". More likely, there is "beer and vodka time". :)

Anyway, I went in around 9:30 and we worked on paperwork to get the money for the SPA grant they were awarded. We went to a bank to set up a sub-account for the project. According to Peace Corps, I must be a co-signer on all withdrawals from the account. Then we wanted Paula, my counterpart, and Mihaela, the director also on the account. Mihaela had to sign all the papers. She was expecting an inspection of an EU grant they have, so she was very distracted. She said to me, "No more signings! I'm through with signing for you!" I begged, "Just one more, Miheala. Please. It will be easy and it's the last one. I promise. I promise."

Paula and I finished the paperwork, then I took it with me to mail to the Peace Corps office in Bucareşti. Paula was afraid I would be confused at the Post Office, so she explained in detail how I should ask for a priority post. Also, I needed to return to the bank with papers from Peace Corps and BLS saying that I really am a worker for BLS and that's why it's okay to have my name on one of their accounts.

I returned to my apartment for lunch of leftover musaka -- that Dennis made this weekend -- then I sat down to read. I fell instantly asleep. I woke with a start, wondering what day it was and where I was. Then I managed to get my papers together and leave for the Post Office and bank.

At the Post Office, my mailing cost 5.20 lei. I did not have .20 and the Post Office did not have change -- and they also do not have gum or matches, but that's another story -- so the lady told me to get change and come back. At least I think that's what she told me. At the bank, no problem. The man copied my papers and said, in perfect English, "That's all we need. Have a nice day."

I thought I'd stop at the book store, Alexandria, to buy a couple of pens and get some spare change which I could take to the Post Office. My one marker and two pens cost exactly 5.50 lei. No change there.

I decided to go see Dennis because he works close to this area. I had .10, and if he had another .10 I could go back to the Post Office with the needed .20. Luckily, I found him outside with some colleagues, which meant I would not have to go into his office where they always want to wait on me like a princess (yeah, it sounds great, but it's annoying when you're trying to get stuff done). He said, "I think you should come in for a minute." Dang, no escape.

The office people were amused by something and I wondered what occasion it was -- birthday? saint day? some obscure anniversary? Then Dennis held out a large plastic bottle cut in half. He said, "Here's a new toy for our cats." (We're babysitting a colleague's cat right now.) He dumped the contents of the bottle onto his desk. It was a fist-sized ball of spikes. I recognized that profile right away. "A hedgehog!"

All the office staff laughed and talked. They've grown up with hedgehogs, probably caught them when they were children. They were amused by our excitement. Before we could leave with the hedgehog, someone came in with mici (meech - a kind of sausage that everyone here loves) and bread and beer. Therefore, we MUST sit and eat and chat with everyone. (I kept thinking about when the Post Office closed.)

Eventually, we left with our new hedgehog (arici = ahr-eech). We stopped at the Post Office where I gave the lady the missing .20. Then we went home (back up all those stairs) to show the cats their new playmate. They were curious, but not willing to get poked. Mostly they left it alone.

I thought this would be a quick little post about a few things that happened yesterday, but then it became a long drawn-out story with a lot of small events that intertwined. This is what happens here. We start out on a simple mission or errand, and many small events occur along the way, so that a simple thing becomes long and drawn-out. I told a trainee, that I work for my agencies about 10 hours apiece each week. She asked what I did the rest of the time. I explained that I did laundry, errands, housework. I told her, "Everything here takes twice as long as you're used to." We spend a lot of time just functioning (spending two hours trying to locate small change) and coping with the unexpected (mici and beer in an office).

Another ordinary day in Peace Corps Romania. :)