Aloha in the Hawaiian language means affection, love, peace, compassion and mercy. Since the middle of the 19th century, it also has come to be used as an English greeting to say goodbye and hello.

A folk etymology claims that Aloha derives from a compound of the Hawaiian words ALO meaning "presence", "front", "face", or "share"; and HA, meaning "breath of life" or "essence of life."

In ancient times Hawaiians greeted each other by touching each other at the bridge of the nose (honi) therefore "experiencing and exchanging the breath of life". This is very honorific as this represents the exchange of ha--the breath of life, and mana--spiritual power between two people.

The coming of the foreigner and the hand shake, in place of the honi, as a greeting created the word "ha 'ole" meaning "breathless."

Life in paradise is good! I have been in Oahu now for 1 month and 15 days. As usual I have not wasted any time jumping "head first" into life here. My job is going well. I am learning a lot about the importance of agriculture in Hawaii, as my boss is the chairman of the House of Representative's Agriculture committee. I also received my first pay check in 3 years, it has been a long time since I filled out a checking deposit form.

Her and I have been venturing around the island having a blast. We have been surfing at diamond head and Waikiki, took a stand-up paddle board to Kaneohe Sandbar, ate poke (cubed Ahi tuna sashimi marinated with Hawaiian sea salt, a small amount of soy sauce, inamona, some sesame oil, limukohu seaweed, and chopped Hawaiian chili pepper) and drank tall boys of Heineken in heaven, enjoyed a sun set at the blow hole, spent love day on a stay-vation (a vacation in the area where you live) at the Moana Surf rider in Waikiki, watch the fire work show from Waikiki on Fridays at 8.00 p.m. from our balcony, strengthening my yoga practice with plenty down dogs, warrior A poses & Savasana adjustments and waited out a tsunami warning with brownies, tofu curry and carrot cake with no tsunami ever arriving.

A parting shot...

All of us might wish at times that we lived in a more tranquil world, but we don't. And if our times are difficult and perplexing, so are they challenging and filled with opportunity."

- Robert F. Kennedy

Aloha, with breath and essence of life.

What a year 2010 has already been! From Bucharest to Morocco, to Madrid, back to Bucharest, to Michigan and finally to Honolulu, Hawaii. That was my itinerary from December 26, 2009 through January 13, 2010. There are 12,718 Kilometers, 7,903 miles and 6,867 nautical miles between Bucharest and Honolulu. I made the move across the world out of Love, curiosity, the spirit of living life to the fullest and the passion to shake up the world.

It was an interesting feeling leaving Romania. Back in 2007, when I arrived there, every thing was so new and foreign, never in mind did I ever think that one day my life in Romania would become my constant, my steady, my home. It did and I look back on my time there with great pride, full of fond memories and a warm smile. Words cannot describe what I experienced over the past 35 months, but what I can say is that they were life changing, humbling, daunting at times but more than anything unforgettable.

I was in Michigan just for a quick second. Despite my short stay it was great to be back at my original home with family. I unpacked my bags one day and started repacking them the next, only this time the wool sweaters and long johns stayed in the closet.

I have only been in Honolulu for 6 days but I am loving it. Life moves at a much more relaxed pace, the people are friendly and take time to say "good morning" to strangers and things like the sun set seem to be much more than just another sun set. Each and every morning I wipe away the sleep from my eyes to the stunning panoramic view of downtown Honolulu and Waikiki beach. I have started work at the Hawaii State Capital and am looking forward to all the new experiences it will have in store for me as this session's calendar progresses.

The real reason for moving half way across the world...Her. After spending the last 6 months of seeing each other for 6 days here, 2 weeks there, skype dates each morning and evening, here we are "better together" in Honolulu.

Aloha!

There's no combination of words

I could put on the back of a postcard

No song that I could sing But I can try for your heart,

Our dreams, and they are made out of real things

like a shoebox of photographs with sepia-toned loving

Love is the answer at least for most of the questions in my heart, like Why are we here? And where do we go?

And how come it's so hard?

It's not always easy and sometimes life can be deceiving

I'll tell you one thing, it's always better when we're together...

- Jack Johnson

Happy 2010! Morocco is a beautiful country with a very unique culture and such an amazing and ever changing landscape. Cruising the streets of Casablanca snacking on freshly steemed chick peas, dodging the endless flow of scooters in the narrow streets of Marrakech's madina, getting lost in the beauty of the Atlas mountains and Sahara desert as its beauty changed by the kilometer, bringing in 2010 directly under a full blue moon, watching the sun slip away behind the Atlantic on a sea wall in Essaouira...

Dragi prieteni,

HAPPY HOLIDAYS and a Happy New Year!

I am currently in Bucharest, Romania watching the snow melt away that accumulated over the past week or so....there still will be enough around to make it a white Christmas. This holiday season will mark another great adventure for me. December 26th Brynne (a special heart & soul) and I will meet in Casablanca, Morocco for a 10 day journey exploring the bazaars of Marrakesh & Casablanca, the sea side of Essaouira and the highlight of the trip...bringing in 2010 under a full moon in the middle of the Sahara desert while on a 3 day desert excursion, treking on the backs of camels, sleeping under the stars and eating authentic Berber cuisine!

I feel the winds of change beginning to blow as that familiar restless feeling gets stronger and stronger. As is the case of the future, 2010 is uncertain but one thing I can say is that it will be full of new adventures, journeys & changes...all of which I patiently await and am ready to embrace with open arms!

Much Love & SUTW

Alex :)

December 1, 2009

New York Times

Well In Month of Giving, a Healthy Reward

By TARA PARKER-POPE

When Cami Walker of Los Angeles learned three years ago that she had multiple sclerosis, her health and her spirits plummeted — until she got an unusual prescription from a holistic health educator.

Ms. Walker, now 36, scribbled the idea in her journal. And though she dismissed it at first, after weeks of fatigue, insomnia, pain and preoccupation with her symptoms, she decided to give it a try. The treatment and her experience with it are summed up in the title of her new book, “29 Gifts: How a Month of Giving Can Change Your Life” (Da Capo Press).

Ms. Walker gave a gift a day for 29 days — things like making supportive phone calls or saving a piece of chocolate cake for her husband. The giving didn’t cure her multiple sclerosis, of course. But it seems to have had a startling effect on her ability to cope with it. She is more mobile and less dependent on pain medication. The flare-ups that routinely sent her to the emergency room have stopped, and scans show that her disease has stopped progressing.

“My first reaction was that I thought it was an insane idea,” Ms. Walker said. “But it has given me a more positive outlook on life. It’s about stepping outside of your own story long enough to make a connection with someone else.”

And science appears to back her up. “There’s no question that it gives life a greater meaning when we make this kind of shift in the direction of others and get away from our own self-preoccupation and problems,” said Stephen G. Post, director of the Center for Medical Humanities, Compassionate Care and Bioethics at Stony Brook University on Long Island and a co-author of “Why Good Things Happen to Good People” (Broadway, 2007). “But it also seems to be the case that there is an underlying biology involved in all this.”

An array of studies have documented this effect. In one, a 2002 Boston College study, researchers found that patients with chronic pain fared better when they counseled other pain patients, experiencing less depression, intense pain and disability.

Another study, at the Buck Institute for Age Research in Novato, Calif., also found a strong benefit to volunteerism, and after controlling for a number of variables, showed that elderly people who volunteered for more than four hours a week were 44 percent less likely to die during the study period.

How giving can lead to mental and physical changes in health isn’t entirely clear, although studies suggest that altruism may be an antidote to stress. A Miami study of patients with H.I.V. found that those with strong altruistic characteristics had lower levels of stress hormones.

By contrast, being self-centered may be damaging to health. In one study of 150 heart patients, researchers found that people in the study who had more “self-references” (those who talked about themselves at length or used more first-person pronouns) had more severe heart disease and did worse on treadmill tests.

And like Ms. Walker, numerous people have reported feeling better after helping others. A 1988 Psychology Today article dubbed the effect the “helper’s high.” Analyzing two separate surveys of a total of 3,200 women who regularly volunteered, the article described a physical response from volunteering, similar to the results of vigorous exercise or meditation. The strongest effect was seen when the act of altruism involved direct contact with other people.

For Ms. Walker, a former creative director for an advertising agency, most of the gifts involved time, emotional support or small acts of kindness. After the first 29 days, she began a new cycle, a pattern she continues. Neither she nor Mbali Creazzo, the spiritual adviser who taught her about the month of giving, knows why it is 29 days rather than 30 or 31 — it may have something to do with the lunar cycle, which is 29.5 days.

Ms. Walker says she now approaches daily giving as a crucial part of her treatment, just like regular medication. She has also found new purpose in her experience and started a Web site, 29gifts.org, that encourages giving to improve health.

“Giving for 29 days is not suggested as a cure for anything,” Ms. Walker said. “It’s simply a coping mechanism and a simple tool you can use that can help you change your thinking about whatever is going on. If you change your thinking, you change your experience.”

Dr. Post, of Stony Brook, agreed. “To rid yourself of negative emotional states,” he said, “you need to push them aside with positive emotional states.

“And the simplest way to do that is to just go out and lend a helping hand to somebody.”

Back in Bucharest, working off jet lag, trying to get back in the swing of things Romanian style and again working off jet lag…coming back east of the Atlantic always hits me harder than going the other way. I had an excellent month of October 2009! I returned home to the USA and Grand Blanc, Michigan for the first time in nearly 2 years.

Family:

The feeling of seeing my family at the airport on the evening of October 1st was something I cannot describe. Granted we talk on the phone every Sunday afternoon, but there is nothing like the real thing! Within the first week of my return my family and I all ventured out to the city of sin, Las Vegas for some sunshine, gambling and good times. We all had a such a great time out there enjoying the warmer weather, the pool, the food, the atmosphere all that a city like Vegas has to offer. It was the first time in a long time we all as a family were together on a vacation, it was nice for everyone to get a little break from Michigan. As much as I love Romania, there is no place like home. Sleeping in my own bed, reading the New York Times in my dads recliner (one of the most comfortable chairs around), sipping on a Starbuck cappuccino at the breakfast table with my Mom & Dad discussing life everything from little things to really big things, joking around with my brother the only way the Kuch boys can, going on shopping expeditions with my sister, 2 year old niece and Mom on a Saturday afternoon like in the old days, reading a book to my niece with her in my lap absorbing everything like sponge and full of innocence, having family pizza night at my sister & brother-in-laws house, Saturday morning breakfast at the Big Boy in town, celebrating my 28th birthday with a cake, candles & cupcakes…all the little things of just being home.

Friends and More:

Out in Vegas, I was able to reconnect with my buddies Adam, who flew in from L.A. for the weekend and Fever, who lives in Vegas (the reason why we went to Vegas in the first place.) It was great catching up, picking up right where we left off. Fever has actually visited me in Romania, in the village for the last two years, so it was a change to see him without horlinka flowing like water. Where as I have not seen Adam since the last time I was state side, which was December 2007. Days were spent by the pool with my family, Tecate, turkey club sandwiches & fruit plates, nights at Playboy Club and Club Moon with way too much Patron…it was great to get the band back together and have some fun. As if Vegas could not get any better, Brynne, who is such a beautiful soul & woman and very special to me, made a trek from Hawaii to sin city to hang out. It was her first time in Vegas. So despite making our rounds to most of the casinos on the strip we also had a night on the town with Fever up at the Playboy club and club Moon at the Palms. We were also able to catch Cirque du Soleil’s “Love” at the Mirage, a celebration of The Beatles, which was spectacular! In Michigan I was able to also catch up with quite of few friends who I had not seen since my adventures to Romania…there was a lot of talk about up coming weddings, jobs and the good ol’ days etc., which is all pretty standard since we are all approaching our late 20’s and these are things people talk about when their in their late 20’s I suppose. Then towards the end of October, I also made a quick two-day trip out to New York City, and absolutely magical city. It was 2 days of fun to say the least. Eating sushi while drinking sake bombs, open bars at private parties at the Bowery Hotel, brunch with bloody maries in the west village for 4 hours, New York Style pizza at 4 a.m. followed by chipotle burritos just a couple hours later for lunch…need I say more!

Bucharest:

It is good to be back in Bucharest where I have a lot of work to catch up on between the two organizations. I was able to speak with my host family in the village a couple of times while state side, but my Romanian is still a bit rusty. So while I am brushing up on that and readapting to life in the big city of Bucharest…I am starting to prepare for the upcoming holiday season. Thanksgiving will be spent back in the village, this time with Brynne as a special guest visitor. Then Christmas holiday off to Morocco to bring in the New Year Moroccan style!

To the journey! S.U.T.W

3:45 a.m. Bucharest Otopeni International Airport...in 2 hours and 15 minutes my journey back to the States and more specifically to Grand Blanc, Michigan begins after 1 year & 10 Months abroad!

To the journeys...

Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover. – Mark Twain

"My Bucharest" in bullet points:

- Discovering all sorts of new places, cultures, foods & people

- The authentic Lebanese restaurant 10 mins from my apartment is so delicious and even affordable on a Peace Corps Volunteers budget, not always the case here in Bucharest...they also have hookah (tobacco water pipes) which is great for digestion after a meal of hummus, falafel, tabule and lintel soup.

- Titan park, 2 blocks from my apartment is my weekday morning, before work running spot as well as my weekend escape from the hustle and bustle of Bucharest streets.

- Division of my labor between the Peace Corps office and MaiMultVerde is about 60%/60% thus I sleep well at night!

- I continued my streak of making it to the Black Sea coast each of the summers I have been in Romania...this year was only for a few days and for a conference but I still made it into the sea for a swim and caught some rays on the beaches.

- Romanian culture is so diverse and varied between its different geographical regions...granted the part of the country I spent my last two year in the village is incredibly unique and Bucharest is definitely a different part of Romania than the rest of the country...I think that is so cool.

- Time is flying even faster since moving to Bucharest than it did the last two years...hold on tight!

- I had forgotten how much I enjoy the hidden beauties, chaos, confusion and fun large cities have to offer...I see myself sticking to them for the next couple of years at least...it is just trying to figure out which ones...that is the trickier part.

- An old woman who lives in my block apartment steals all of our mail and then hand delivers it to our door, ha ha, it is pretty funny and I kind of like it...I do have all of my personal mail sent to the Peace Corps office however. I am still not sure how I will explain to the electricity company though that the reason I am paying the bill late is because "grandma" gave me the bill after the pay date, although I would bet they have one of those "grandmas" at their apartment block as well!

- I finished "The Brothers Karamazov" by Fyodor Dostoevsky...brilliant and timeless

- I will be making my 1st trip back to the village this weekend...I am really excited to see all of my friends and family up there, a little concerned about all the food and drink that I will consume Friday, Saturday & Sunday and will be bringing along a separate piece of luggage specifically for all the horlinka I still have up there to bring back down. I have maintained phone call communication with Ion, Angela and the boys on just about an everyday basis since moving down to Bucharest....even my Mom, Dad & Sister in Michigan communicate via email with Angela and the boys, I cant get away with anything, I have eyes watching me all over the world!!

- October 1, 2009 at 15.50 I will be arriving at Bishop International Airport in Flint, Michigan for a one month visit! I am so excited to see my family, my friends and eat all the foods I have missed for the last two years, deliciousness such as burritos, turkey sandwiches, turkey burgers, sushi etc. I am anxious to see how it will be adapting back into life in the states...I used to kind of laugh at the idea of "reverse culture shock" but now I kind of get it.

- Click on these links below...something to think about:

http://www.ted.com/talks/view/id/561

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A5GryIDl0qY

- Lastly I will leave you with a passage given to me by true inspiration...

Do you think that love, in order to be genuine, has to be extraordinary? What we need is to live without getting tired.

How does a lamp burn? Through the continuous input of small drops of oil. What are these drops of oil in our lamps? They are the small things of daily life: faithfulness, punctuality, small words of kindness, a thought for others, our way of being silent, of looking, or speaking, and of acting. These are the true drops of love.

Be faithful in small things because it is in them that your strength lies

- Mother Theresa

Strange is our situation here on Earth. Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose. From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: that man is here for the sake of other men.

—Albert Einstein

It has been Four weeks since my move from the village to Bucharest…what are my thoughts? Where to begin?! As hard as it was to leave the village, it was also time for a change of pace for me and boy o boy did I find a change of pace here in Bucharest! No more fieldwork for me…I now spend my time in-between two offices, delivering training sessions to new volunteers, researching potential EU funds for environmental projects while wandering around my new surroundings, getting lost and then found again.

Fortunately, I have been so busy since my arrival in Bucharest, my transition has been pretty natural. Part of me staying with the Peace Corps for a 3rd and moving to Bucharest is I will also be volunteering with local Romanian organization. I was pretty excited about the opportunity of being able to work with a local organization while in Bucharest and was set on gaining some experience in a new field of interest. I had caught wind that a local Environmental NGO in Bucharest expressed interest in working with a volunteer. I was pretty excited about the idea of working in the Environmental sector and getting some new exposures. After reading their website and having my interview with them I was even more enthusiastic about collaborating with them this next year. It was one of the most professional interviews I have ever had in my life…there were four members of the organization who interviewed me all at once, the interview lasted about an hour and twenty one minutes and over 90% of it was all in Romanian. Long story short, I am starting my second week with MaiMultVerde (www.maimultverde.ro) and I am really enjoying myself. As an organization they develop and implement a variety of environmental projects ranging from tree plantation, creating a bike rental company in downtown Bucharest to trash clean ups on mountain trails. I will be assisting with the projects department. Working on developing and then implementing the projects into the Romanian real world. Actually in two days I will participate in my first project. There is an International Jazz Festival in Garana, Romania…I am not really sure where it is but I know it is in the mountains, which is all I need to know! MaiMultVerde will be implementing a recycling/trash clean up program on the grounds of the festival and I will tag along to help out any way possible…as the Peace Corps motto goes “Peace Corps, the toughest job you will ever love!”

My Peace Corps world has also been going very well. As soon as I arrived in Bucharest, I took off to a neighboring city about 90 kms northwest outside of the city to lend a hand at the training sessions of a new group of volunteers that arrived in country at the end of May. I stayed there for two weeks and had a really great time getting to know the new group while being able to reminisce about the good old days when I was fresh off the airplane stepping into a whole new world. It is interesting being on this side of training. It has also allowed me to do some self-reflection on how far I have come since May 2007. I remember all the little challenges that used to consume so much of my efforts and energy…things like ordering food, buying bus tickets, having a casual conversation with people on the streets. Now those one time challenges are just part of my normal everyday life.

However in other ways, I do feel like I am back where I started two years ago as a brand new volunteer in a new land and new environment. Granted, it is a major plus having two years of Romanian “real world” experience under my belt and not to mention my Romanian language skills. However, I am meeting all new people, adapting to an all-new situation and being exposed to a whole new culture…Romania as I knew from the village’s perspective, has done a complete 180-degree turn upside down. I really am getting a whole new perspective of Romania.

Despite being extremely busy with work, I have still found time to take advantage of all that there is to take advantage of in a capital city like Bucharest. I have had a coffee at Starbucks, talked via skype to a good friend who is Japan (my first ever Skype call…It is amazing and FREE!), bought some new “city” clothes at a mall that would put most American malls to shame, saw Santana in concert on 4th of July, played a game of Ultimate Frisbee, have seen two movies at a cinema and was even able to play a little tennis the other day. One thing that I have not had too much ambition to do is to drink any of the 12 liters of horlinka I received as gifts before I left the village. I wont lie it is kind of nice having a bit of a break from it but it really is not the same having a glass of it outside of the village without the scenery, the food, the smells, the long days of field work and most of all without my good friends and family back there. I have talked to Ion, Angela and the boys just about everyday since I have arrived in Bucharest…sometimes even twice in a day…with the last question before we hang up always being “When are you coming back for a visit?”

Again what a different world I am living in these days, but as always I have a smile on my face, curiosity in my soul and new adventures within reach…S.U.T.W

Underwear? Check! Passport? Check! Visa? Check! Horlinka? Double Check…at least I am hopeful 10 liters of this stuff will last until next time I make it back to the village for a visit! As far way this day appeared sometimes over the last two years, it is here on my doorstep. This afternoon I will be making the big move to Bucharest after two years in Poienile Izei. History has a funny way of repeating itself. Just over two years ago, I was sitting at my parent’s computer in Grand Blanc, Michigan unable to sleep writing a blog entry trying to prepare myself for the trans-Atlantic journey to Romania as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Well, here I am again, granted in a bit of a different environment, exhausted after a sleepless night of emotions, trying to prepare myself for yet another 14 hour journey, although this 14 hour journey will not take me across oceans but rather across the beautiful and varied landscape that is Romania! My ridiculously large back pack is stuffed full, my normal size pack back is bulging at the seams and an extra duffle bag is on the verge of “Heavy Load”…as long as bunica (the grandmother of my host family) does not try to add any more sheep’s cheese, potatoes or garlic to my all ready overflowing collection of our home grown garden I should be fine.

Some times I would hear myself explain to a neighbor, “Da, o se plec in o saptamana, dar o se fi in Bucurest pentru mai un ani deci pot se vin in apoi pentru visita” and I would think, well at least I still have a week before I leave. Today all of that changed when I climbed on the bus this morning leaving the village for the last time as a volunteer. It has been a whirlwind of a last couple of weeks. First of all, trying to finish up a school year as a teacher is a challenge and from what I can tell that is the case weather you are a teacher in Romania or the United States. I never want to say never, but I have to say I don’t see myself being a middle school teacher, or any kind of teacher for that matter, in the next couple/fifty years! I have total respect and admiration for teachers because now I have been there and I know how challenging and rewarding teaching youth can be. I interviewed each one of my students in a face-to-face English interview. It was very interesting to see the progress many of my students had made in the last two years with me as their English instructor. It was a nice way to end the year, a very easy high grade for the students, and it allowed me to personally say good-bye to all the little rug rats, even if it was in Romanian! Next on the “Getting ready to move to Bucharest” To Do list was the impossible task of making a point to thank and explain my appreciation to all the great friends I have made in the village over the last two years.

When I arrived in Poienile Izei for the first time, I had a backpack, a guitar, an open mind and a smile on my face. The sense of adventure mixed with my eagerness for a new challenge was at the maxim and I knew I had landed in quite a unique place. Despite my confidence and naivety, I was also scared shitless! I was a long way from Sighet, the closest city to the village, let alone from anything that resembled my life back in the States before I left for Romania. Meeting my host family was a great relief as they seemed like great people…boy was I wrong, they are AMAZING people! They welcomed me, a complete stranger from another country into their home and family as if I was a long lost son. It is impossible to explain all the support each one of them have given me since I arrived in the village but as with anything you truly love, you never forget it and no matter how far apart we may be in the years to come Famila Ilies will always have a special spot in my heart. With each and every day, I began to find my niche in the village and as each and everyday pasted I become more and more integrated. It would be ridiculous to say my adaptation into the village ways and customs was easy. There were ups and downs, good days and bad days, smiles and tears. Looking back, I think I learned more from the downs, the bad days and the tears than anything else. As all of those challenging moments were always followed by a moment of realization and clarity that kept me motivated, persistent and passionate about what I was doing in the village. It was always interesting to me that whenever I asked an old grandma or grandpa sitting on a bench next to the street how she was doing, which was all the time, he or she would always thank me for asking them. Unfortunately a lot of these so-called “simple” people get left in the shadows of the younger generation interest in computers and TV and the politics of the village big wigs. Even as I was saying “good bye” to all my friends and neighbors yesterday, a lot of the credit for how well I adapted into the culture and everyday life of the village was immediately given to the big dogs in the village…Mayor, School director, Priest etc. Don’t get me wrong there were indeed times when these people did assist me, however it were the conversations on the park bench with the 60 and over club on Sunday afternoons, it were the hand blistering trips to the fields and forests with my host family and it were the meals of corn meal, pig fat and horlinka (peasant food) that helped refine my language skills, build real friendships and gave me a sense of belonging in the village! These people, the “simple” people as even call themselves are the heart & soul of the village and they deserve much more credit they are given and will accept for that matter. Interestingly enough these same “simple” folk are the ones who, when I gave them a kiss on the cheek and hug good bye and said “thank you so much for all you have done for me” were humbly accepted their compliment and immediately gave the credit to some else much less deserving.

Thank Poienile Izei for one hell of a ride, I will see you soon…watch out Bucharest here I come!

I have a hard time letting any grass grow between these toes. As spring has arrived here in North Central Romania so has a bit of cabin fever. As soon as we were done plowing our fields and planting our potatoes, Orthodox Easter was around the corner. As a result, I had a week vacation from school and since I had spent last year in the village to celebrate Easter I decided this year I would take the opportunity to visit & reconnect with part of my family heritage in Ukraine. The family tree gets complicated and very confusing, so long story short, my grandma’s father on my dad’s side of the family was born in a small village outside of Chernovtsy, Ukraine. Thus, I have some distant relatives that still live in this village and as well as Chernovtsy. I made my way over, well around, the Carpathian Mountains over to the northeastern part of Romania. From the city of Suceava, Romania I caught a bus, it was more of a soviet era boat on wheels with pulled dark red curtains and a poster of a topless women taped up behind the driver. I was warmly welcomed into Chernovtsy, Ukraine by some distant relatives with hugs, kisses and a plenty of conversation in Russian & Ukrainian that I could not understand a word of! That was one thing entering into Ukraine and observing the road signs that passed us by, I had not even a clue what they said. However, I love an adventure of any kind and I looked at the language barrier while in Ukraine just as another adventure. I was spoiled though, the wife of Ivan, one of the distant relatives, Luda speaks and understands English pretty well, their daughter in law is part Romanian and thus speaks Romanian and a lot of people in general in Chernovtsy speak Romanian…Chernovtsy used to be apart of Romania and was actually the capital city of the northeastern region Bucovina. Ivan and Luda took me to there home and made me feel extremely welcomed. Naturally, there was a feast of a meal with never ending portions, all of which was excellent, with an American flag on the table to make me feel welcome and a shot or two of vodka! The Ukrainian vodka that I drank was excellent…very smooth and clean, even more so than the top shelf vodkas I had drank in the U.S. and being more than half the price. I was fortunate to have Ivan and Luda’s daughter in-law seated next to me at the dinner table those first couple hours as I was able to express how excited I was to be in Ukraine and how thankful I was for them to take me in and make me feel like a part of their family, no matter how distant we are. I spent the first two days with Ivan & Luda showing me all around Chernovtsy, which is a beautiful university city with a lot of character. I visited Chernovtsy’s grand bazaar, a bit different than the one in Istanbul, but of the same idea, you can find anything from a new/used car to a wedding dress. Ivan is quite the comedian, so while he does not speak very much English nor I any Russian or Ukrainian, he would approach usually the best looking young women he could find to ask if they spoke Romanian (which most did) and ask them to translate what he wanted to tell me. This discussion was always followed by the women blushing when Ivan told them I was a single 27-year-old American who speaks Romanian and would they be interested in having coffee with us later, ha ha! Before I arrived in the Ukraine I mentioned to Ivan & Luda that if it were possible I would like very much to visit Ukraine’s capital city, Kiev. Just to explain how hospitable and wonderful these people are, when I arrived they handed me a round trip bus ticket with a two day itinerary for Kiev! So, after visiting all around Chernovtsy for the first couple of days, I took a 21:00 bus 500 kilometers to Kiev. After a 12-hour bumpy bus ride through the night I was greeted at the Kiev bus station by one of Ivan & Luda’s son, Sasha…that is short for Alexander. Sasha is also 27 years old and is a third year attorney at a private firm in downtown Kiev. It was around 6:30 in the morning so the natural thing to do was grab some breakfast. We arrive at his centrally located, communist style block, bachelor pad apartment with open beers in hand and two more in the bag. After the beers were completed we moved on to the next serving, fried eggs with rye bread and it all finished off with one shot of vodka! After a brief nap, I was feeling revived from the lack of sleep from the night before and we hit the city streets. Kiev is BEAUTIFUL! It is a large city but with a very comforting feel to it. It is a very old with great architecture. The streets are filled with all sorts of people from all over the world and everyone dressed to the tens, especially the women all dressed very stylish and elegant. As I walked around, It was hard not to be distracted by the simple beauty of all the Orthodox Churches gold plated circular domes. Everything I observed in Kiev from the many large green parks to the subway system are all very well maintained and clean. It was great to be back in a large city again and soak in as much of a new culture as possible. Kiev has moved right up there next to Istanbul as great cities I have visited so far! My two days in Kiev went by too fast, but Easter Sunday was a couple days away so Sasha and I were back on a 21:00 bus from Kiev to Chernovtsy to be back for Orthodox Easter. Easter Sunday was quite the day. I woke up at 5:00 in the morning to go with Ivan & Luda to the main Orthodox Church in Chernovtsy. All the city streets were jammed packed with cars and families carrying their Easter baskets in hand. Everyone made long rows with their baskets and patiently waited for the priests to come out and bless the baskets as well as themselves with holy water. After our Easter basket and we were soaked with holy water we headed to the village where my grandmother’s father was born and raised before leaving for the states. I was very very excited about this visit to the village. I arrived and was immediately greeted by 5 elderly women and 1 elderly man who all grab me at once and did not let go the whole afternoon I was there! Everyone was hugging and kissing me while crying, even the man, Stephan, gave me a wet one right on the lips, ha ha…and all talking to me in Ukrainian/Russian! It was quite a scene to say the least! My grandmother Helen, had visited the village before she passed away many years ago and they were all very excited to see Helen’s grandson Alexander, me…the whole time I was in Ukraine, everyone called me Alexander not Alex which I really liked. Luckily, there was a friend of a friend’s brother’s cousin who was there and spoke Romanian, so I was able to understand all they were telling me and vice versa. It was quite exhausting listening so attentively trying to pick up a word here or there in Ukrainian, hear the translation in Romanian, break it all down and then respond back in Romanian, let alone while everyone is talking so anxiously at once! Their village is much larger than the one I live in Romania and is much different. However, there were many aspects of their lives that I knew much about from my time spent in Romania, such as agriculture and fieldwork! Never in my life would I notice the difference between the soil in a Ukrainian village to that of a Romanian one and the difference in haystacks from one country to another, but I do and I did! They all laughed with amazement when I told them I had just planted potatoes with my host family in Romania and that I had no problem using an outhouse. The women cooked up quite the feast of traditional cuisine, which was all very similar to what I eat at my village in Romania and very good, maybe not the best for my cholesterol but oh well! Obviously before we began our feast we all had shot or two of Vodka…the tradition I learned when drinking in vodka in Ukraine is you do 3 shots, each with a different toast, when I asked what each of the toasts represented, they all laughed and said the only remember the 3rd one which is to the women in your life or future wife if that is that case, and then they started in, just like all my friends and neighbors do in Romania, “I have a grand daughter or a niece or a friend of a friends sister that you should meet,” ha ha! As much as I enjoyed eating sushi at a hip new sushi bar in downtown Chernovtsy and sipping a delicious cappuccino with a beautiful Ukrainian women on a street corner in Kiev there is something to be said about getting back to the roots of life, so to speak. 19 people sitting down to a table that only has room for 10 maxim, plates of home cooked food and drink pouring off the table with people that just an hour ago where complete strangers in a village in Ukraine that I cant even pronounce the name of… eating, drinking, laughing, sharing stories with not a worry in the world! I have always been a believer in the “little things in life” and I tell you taking the time to sit on a tree trunk on a crystal clear Easter Sunday talking about cow manure and apple trees with good hearted people, who come close to tripling me in age is actually one of the “little things” that makes life that much better. I left the village full to the brim, a bit tipsy from the vodka, wonderful stories of my Grandmother Helen and a huge smile on my face.

Once Easter was over so was my time in Ukraine. I was able to squeeze in some Russian billiards with Ivan & Luda’s oldest son, Tolec and some of his friends…by the way Russian billiards is played on a large billiards table with smaller pockets and larger balls and with different rules thus it is really difficult but still a good time especially with some chilled Russian beers! Ivan and Luda, decided it would be better for me if they just drove me 150 kilometers southwest to the border of Ukraine and Romania, where I could cross the border into Romania and I was only 50 kilometers away from the village…just another example of the amazing kindness.

I had a wonderful time in Ukraine and it was just the right kind of “get away” I needed! Also, with having learned a bit more about this one part of my “Diverse” family heritage, I can only wait until I make it to Malta and get in touch with the Maltese part of my blood line!

It started back around November/December of last year…the anxiety and stress of what the hell I am going to do when my 27 month service as a Peace Corps volunteer comes to an end in July of this year. I am a constant thinker to begin with, there is always something turning in my head, some kind of idea or crazy day dream, which is good but can also be over whelming at times and lead to many sleepless nights while trying to figure future plans. To say the least I was beginning to feel the pressure as I thought past summer 2009. I came to Romania as a volunteer to see another part of the world, help others, learn a new culture and language while hopefully learning some things about myself and maybe even begin to figure out what I want out of life…in other words, to SHAKE THINGS UP a bit. Indeed I have learned a wonderful new culture, can speak the Romanian language very well, have seen parts of the world I only used to dream about and I would even dare say I have a better understanding of who I am as a person after these 27 months in Romania. As far as what I want out of life…it is a bit trickier but I want to keep being international in this ever shrinking world we live in, learning new languages and cultures, interacting with people from all around the world, help others where I can and continue to challenge myself while seeking new exciting and unique adventures. I arrived at a point where I literally wrote out a list of all the major interest, influences, skills, likes, dislikes I have regarding what I wanted to do. I have to say, creating this list was a very useful way for me to realize that I have a restless & curious soul that will not allow me to settle for anything less than I am capable of and to accept that. I was researching companies’ website from London to India, looking at requirements for graduate schools from Denver, Colorado to Cairo, Egypt and day dreaming about living on the beaches of Costa Rica all the way to the hustle and bustle of Taqim Square in down town Istanbul and everywhere in between. Meanwhile, I put my name in a pool of many other strong candidates to stay in Romania for a third year for an assignment that would move me to Bucharest, Romania’s capital city, while still working as a volunteer but not as a teacher of English. The job description explained it as a Volunteer Leadership position where the volunteer would split his/her time 50% with the Peace Corps Romania based out of their office assisting with volunteer support and the other 50% with a Romanian NGO. I have a lot of respect, pride and enthusiasm for what the Peace Corps does and represents, especially Peace Corps Romania, so I figured the possibility of sticking around for a third year could only add to my already wonderful experience I have had in Romania. While doing plentiful research into continuing my career in International Relations, I was beginning to realize more international experience with a combination of a graduate degree of some sort would be critical. Thus with my mind set on applying for a third year with Peace Corps Romania, I also decided to put out an application at The American University in Cairo, Egypt for a masters degree in International Relations. For all the work that it takes to write letters of intent, request letters of recommendation, order and send transcripts across the world, fill out on-line applications with limited internet access and complete interviews…I think waiting around to hear if you are accepted or not is even more daunting! After I sent in both of these applications and was waiting around to hear what my next move would be, I wrote out another list of what I would do if neither of these two options worked out…well the list actually turned into a small size notebook chuck full of web addresses, ideas and day dreams covering every inch of the world! Each night I would put myself to sleep with a different scenario grinding out the details and logistics…one night I would be figuring out how to get to France and learn French for a year or two, the next night it was finding a NGO to work for that would get me to Africa, after that wondering if my buddy Fever could get me a job as a pool boy with him at the Palms casino’s pool in Vegas etc. etc. Not only have I probably put a few more hair hairs on my Mom and Dad’s hair with each new idea and day dream but I think my sister and brother-in law’s as well…”You want to go where!? Just when we thought we had heard it all, you always find a way to surprise us!” they would often exclaim on our weekly Sunday conversations. Truth is, with out having them to bounce ideas off of and explain my madness too, I would have been a bigger mess than I was already…Thanks guys, you all are the BEST!! Then all of a sudden, last week just when I thought the graduate school had forgot about me…there it was in my e-mail’s inbox, I had been accepted into the International Relations masters program at American University in Cairo! The smile still has not faded away, I am very excited and proud of being accepted into their program…however I still had not heard any news from Bucharest regarding my application for a third year in Bucharest, so the nerves were still running on edge. Going into this whole situation, my primary goal was to be accepted into a third year assignment in Romania. It is a once in a lifetime opportunity that is only possible right now, where as grad school will always be there. Then finally, two days ago, I received the news I had been waiting not so patiently for…I had been accepted for a third year extension in Romania as a Peace Corps Volunteer Leader! I have deferred my admissions to graduate school for fall of 2010 and hope it will all work out for me to make it to Egypt. However, for now I am just focused on finishing up my last few months here in the village, savoring all the great things I love about this village that has been my home for the last two years! Then, once school is out in the middle of June I will make the move from this 1,000 person traditional village to the 3 million person, mega-city that is Bucharest…talk about culture shock! I am very excited and eager about the new life, challenges and experiences that wait for me in Bucharest. My “What the Hell I am going to do!?” notebook can be stowed away for now at least, but knowing how fast time slips away when I am having fun I am sure it wont be long before it is back out on my desk again…TO THE JOURNEY!!

While on the 14-hour train ride from Sighet to Bucharest, I had plenty of “quality” time to daydream and get excited about my imminent trip to Istanbul, Turkey. I have never been much on doing a lot of research and planning for trips, I prefer the “shoot it from the hip” and “I will figure it out when I get there” methods of travel. Thus, my trip to Istanbul was no exception. Besides arranging a place to crash for the first two nights, the rest was all up in the air, just the way I prefer it. Honestly, the 14-hour train ride to Bucharest on top of the 21-hour train ride to Istanbul was not as bad as I thought it would be. A lot of this had to do with the fact I was traveling with my buddy Mike, another volunteer and as chance would have it a Turkish man named Ali, who was entertaining to say the least. Ali’s topics of conversations revolved around women, politics and conspiracy theories, in that order! As we were making our way through Bulgaria, we happened to make friends with a Bulgarian train controller, who claimed he was “THE” train controller of train controllers in Bulgaria. The train stopped somewhere around Sophia, for a period of time to change and add wagons. At the station we were at, there was a little store/restaurant/bar, that “THE” Bulgarian train controller invited us to, for as he described “The Best Kebab in Bulgaria,” you don’t have to ask me twice I was out of the train before he could finish the word kebab! Just for reference, it is about mid-night at this point in our journey. Once we are seated at the table, the women behind the counter demanded while also asking us “3 kebabs, 3 beer!?” We just smiled and nodded, yes. I am no food guru, but I do know the difference between a kebab and a non-kebab. I observed the women open a freezer door pull out three white hamburger patties and pop them in a microwave. Mean while, our conductor friend was sipping on a small coffee cup, that obviously did not have coffee in it, repeating “Americans… Kebabs” with a bright white grin on his face. To this day, I am not sure what we ate that evening, but it was a damn good non-kebab whatever it was. After washing down the mystery meat with a local Bulgarian beer, my buddy Mike asked our controller friend, while pointing at his watch if we should be boarding the train soon. The controller, laughed out loud, took another sip from his coffee cup and said, “the train leaves when I say it leaves…as long as you are with me you are fine,” while raising his coffee cup to offer cheers. The man was true to his word, after a few phone calls in Bulgarian that sounded a lot like Russian, he motioned for us to board the train and I will be damned if that train did not start moving as soon as we all stepped on board…Nine hours later, hello Istanbul.

I have always respected the expression “You never get a second chance to make a first impression.” Well, Istanbul’s first impression on me was an impressive one to say the least. Immediately, I felt a soft, colorful vibe of the city. The streets were spotless and full of life. For a city the size of Istanbul, 12-13 million, it is impeccably clean…even if you want find a gum wrapper on the street you will be hard pressed to find one. As we searched for our hotel, men trying to steer us into their restaurant or store, greeted us. They were never pushy; it was all very friendly, genuine and clever, while obviously trying to make a sale. The city’s many Mosques were also another strong first impression. Structurally they are they simple, ornate and absolulty stunning (see picture.) The first time I heard the call to prayer, the prayer called from Mosques from speakers on each Minaret, chills rushed down my spine, which was what happened every time I heard it through out the whole trip. However, it is the Turkish people and culture that make Istanbul my new favorite city in the world I have visited so far. Everyone we came in contact with was friendly, warm, engaging and very hospitable. The best term I have to describe the Turkish people and culture is, classy.

I had just set foot in this city but already I had a good feeling for it, one that just grew stronger as the days went by. Finally, reaching the hotel Mike and I meet up with Liz, another volunteer, took a much-needed shower and hit the streets. First stop was to the Grand Bazaar. If I had read a tourist’s guidebook to Istanbul, without question the Grand Bazaar would be number one on the list, but if it is not, it should be. The Grand Bazaar is a giant market where you can find just about anything, and you cannot find it just ask, because more times than not it will be found for you. To be honest, it was a bit over whelming the first time walking around. First of all it is massive, with all these little side paths, all jammed pack with vendors selling everything from gold, silver, scarves, leather and the world-renowned Turkish rugs…and the whole time bargaining for the so called right price, a definite sensation overload. Again, each vendor is unique and full of personality to catch your attention and hopefully land a sale. I could see how some might find this a bit aggressive and maybe uncomfortable, but I loved it! The first carpet store we were convinced to visit was a lot of fun. The gentleman helping us, spoke excellent English, as do most in Istanbul, and seemed like a genuine salesmen, if there can be such a thing! First things first, tea…he did not mention a word about rugs or carpets until well into our second glass of tea, which is customary, piping hot, sweetly delicious and on the house. Then once we started on rugs it was all encompassing…big ones, small ones, thick ones, thin ones, double knotted, single knotted, traditional, modern and prayer ones etc. Most vendors I encountered in the Bazaar practiced the true and traditional sense of salesmanship, the customer is always right. You cannot come up with an excuse that will stump these guys…if you tell them you do not have room in your suitcase, they will wrap it right there and ship it to you, if it is not the right color, they will find you the right color, if it is too expensive, which it always is, you bargain for what you think is the right price. I enjoyed this type of consumer environment compared to just walking into a store, picking something out, paying for it and leaving, often never even talking to anyone. Not only was it entertaining but also each purchase has a story behind it.

We crossed the Bosporus river and landed on the other part of Istanbul that is settled in Asia. This was my first but not last time in Asia. The Asian side of Istanbul was much more low key, less touristy and traditional, or so it seemed. Other highlights of the trip, included visits to many Mosques including the famous Blue Mosque (see picture) which were all very welcoming as well as informative in regards to understanding Islam and its faith…each Mosque we entered was simply beautiful, ornate with an powerful sense of devotion. We also wandered in the Hagia Sophia; Takim Square that absolutely blew me away with how crowed it was especially during the off-season. Raki is the traditional drink, with a flavor very similar to Greece’s Uzo or Italy’s Sambuca. It was refreshingly tame compared to the village’s horlinka, served with equal part water and on ice. Also, it was often served with a bowl of mix nuts and or a creamy, salted white cheese. As you might expect the food was exquisite and full of flavor. Turkish coffee lives up to its reputation of strong, delicious and sweet. Smoking fruit or mint-flavored tobacco from a water pipe, nargile, was another customary tradition we enjoyed in many of the relaxed, vibrant, friendly cafes that line the streets of Istanbul. Just before we boarded the train for our return trip to Bucharest, we visited a Turkish bath, which involves getting washed actually forcefully scrubbed is a better verb as I am pretty sure I lost a few layers of skin in the process, massaged and rinsed in a sauna like room. It was a perfect way to end the trip and a great way to prepare for a 20-hour train ride back to Bucharest.

Just like any trip to a new place, the time flew by and 6 days was not nearly long enough. I am not convinced 26 days would be enough for a city like Istanbul…that’s why next time I go there, it might just be with a one-way ticket!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

HAPPY HOLIDAYS & HAPPY NEW YEAR

PEACE & LOVE

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

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

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

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

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

- The heart of life is good.

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

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

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

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

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

- Shake Up the World :)

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

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

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

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

It is amazing what a little sun shine can do. It has been raining here in the village for the last 3-4 weeks off and on (mostly on) and has been etremley cold for this time of year. However, today is a perfect fall afternoon in Poienile Izei. The sun is high and full pouring down plenty of warm rays. The sky is a crisp blue with a few puffy white cotton ball clouds. Most of the leaves have turned there fall colors giving the still green grass a wonderful contrast. The children at school are full of energy, playing soccer and tag outside during the 10 min pauses in between classes. The teachers stand around in the sunshine talking about the students, the weather, other people in the village and what ever else you could imagine. Even I have a little more spunk and easyness as I go from class to class teaching different verbs, nouns and adjectives. School is pretty much in full swing now that we are entering the middle of October. Things have gone much smoother than last year for me. Obviously, having one year of experience teaching, speaking the language and adapting to the culuture have helped a lot. I am more comfortable in the classroom and I think the students are more comfortablt to my teaching style as well. This year in addition to teaching 5th-8th grades I have also taking on the task of teaching 3rd & 4th grades. There are only 4 students in the 4th grade and 9 in the 3rd so we combine the two classes for two hours a week. I have to say I really enjoy teaching the 3rd & 4th graders. They deffinatly take a lot more energy and patience but they are so enthusiastic about what ever they do. My 8th graders (15students) are at that awkard "too cool" stage and just want to get to high school in the big city or forget school all together and start making money. 7th grade is not quite to that "too cool" stage but they deffinatly have some attitude....it does not help that there are 9 boys and only 3 girls in this class. My 6th graders are starting to feel there roots in the school but still seem enthusiatic about what they do in the class room. Finally 5th grade consists of 5 girls and 3 boys and is by far the most chill class of them all. It is hard to believe that I am already well into my 2nd year as the english teacher and rapidly approaching the end of my service with the Peace Corps in July 2009.

My host family and I have finished digging all of our potatoes, picking all of our plumbs for jam and horlinka and have finished the last of the hay stacks for 2008. Everyday walking around the village you see horse drawn carriages full of sacks of potatoes, sacks of plumbs, piles of hay and logs of wood. My family is still waiting for the village distiller to be available to make our horlinka nor have we gone out in to the forests to retrreive our wood for this winter...although we have plenty already chopped that would probably last us the winter. As sad as I am to see the summer warmth and long days fade away into short, cold winter afternoons there is nothing better than the smells of fall in the village. First of all, all the wood coming from the forest must be chopped and stacked as soon as possible to let it dry before it gets too cold. I love to chop wood! It is my favorite type of work to do in the village. Not only is it one hell of a workout but at the same time it is so relaxing. Not to mention, the smell of fresh chopped wood is something that should be prescibed to people with high stress levels! Walking around the village just before the dark of night pulls the covers over the afteroon sun is wonderful. Every home has a wood burning stove fired up sending into the crips cool air the smell of sweet burning wood and a gloss of smoke giving the surrounding mountains a very gothic feel. These types of experiences, smells and sights are the things I will miss the most (besides the people of course) when my time here is down. There is so much about my life here that cannot be described in words or justified in pictures. To truly appreciate the people and culture of Poienile Izei you really have to role up your sleeves and jump head first. Last weekend I attended a wedding of a neighbors daughter who now lives and works in the large city of Timisoara, on the western border of Romania. There were 30 or 40 friends and family from the village who made the 9 hour train or bus ride over for the wedding. The grooms family is all from the surounding Timisoara area as well as were a lot of the bride and grooms friends. The reception took place in a very elegant hotel's ball room. There was champange, beer, wine, Jack Daniels, sparking water, flat water, coca-cola, red bull, expresso, hot chocolate...but dont worry the father of the bride brought with him about 90 liters of 2 day old plumb horlika! Each of the five courses that were served were mouth watering. All of the villagers brought with them their tradional cosutmes (see picture) as well as the more modern wedding attire. The first half of the wedding the villagers were dressed in the tradional threads and then all changed to their shirts and ties, dresses and high heals. It was pretty interesting to see the two cultures from Poienile Izei and Timisoara combine. The table I was sitting at was a mix of some younger adults from the village as well as the city. Naturally I offered each person at the table a little horlinka to start the night off, just expecting everyone to say "bottoms up" as they would in the village. Not a single person at the table accepted, even the ones from the village, prefering instead some white wine mixed with sparkling water, Jack Daniels with coca-cola, gin & tonic and there was even one with a some kind of fruit caribean looking drink with a drink umbrella and all! I stayed strong to my village roots and poured my self a shot of horlinka and a glass fo sparkling water to chase it down with. The waiter of my table came up to me and told me that I should go over to the table with all the people dressed in traditional costumes to have a shot because he has already had to refill their craft of horlinka 3 or 4 times in the first 2 hours...apparently the husband of my host family asked if the waiter could just put some horlinka in an empty 2 liter bottle to save all parties involved time and energy! There was a nice mix of music from tradional folk music for the villagers and modern day pop/dance music for the city slickers. It was great to see some of the "suits & ties" getting out there learning some of the traditional folk dances as well as seeing some of the villagers learning some of the more modern day pop dances. At about 3 a.m. the cake came out as well as the gift/envelope box, unioffically ending the weddings festivities. At this point in the morning I was more than fine with the idea of heading back to where we were all staying to get a couple hours of shut eye before climbing in a mini-van for the 8/9 journey home. However, as most of the visitors were saying goodbye and thanking the bride & groom the husband of my host family made a request for a very popular traditional folk song to the band that was playing. Once the first chord was played all that were left, mostly villagers, jumped to there feet and stayed there for another two more hours...we probably would have stayed there all night if it were not for the driver of our bus wanting to leave to get some sleep before driving us back to the village, probably a good idea. I have really made strides of steping out of my "wall flower" no dancing comfort zone since living in the village, I was out there most of the night, stumbling along tring ot keep up with everyone else, but you can not say I did not try...maybe the horlinka has some thing to so with that as well!

It is hard to believe that August has come and gone! September for a teacher is the offical end of summer. The old saying ˝Time flies when you are having fun˝ has never been more correct. Some of the highlights of summer 2008 were as follows. Ending my first year of being a teacher was a great and proud feeling. It was an up and down school year to say the least and I do not think I will be winning a teacher of the year award anytime soon, but I had fun and I think the kids had fun as well and learned a thing or two along the way. Spain, was amazing and a place that I will continue to visit as long as am able. However, my time there really reinforced my love for Romania, its culture and how much Poienile Izei has become my ˝home˝ away from home. This past summer I have been schooled and tested in just about every aspect of field work that is done in the village. Bunica (the grandmother of my host family) is a tough teacher but at least with her there is not sugar coating...if you are doing it wrong she will tell you very quickly and loudly and if you are doing it correct she wont say a word. Learning to use the sycle to cut the fields is by far my favorite thing to do and is by far the most physically draining aspect of field work I have done here in the village. I now have two weeks of construction work under my belt and I hope there is more to come! My back, hands, arms and legs all benefited from the 13 hour days at the construction site as did my appreciation of how most of the men in the village support there families. Since my return from the construction site, I have gained a whole new aspect of respect from my community members as well as a lot more moms and grandmothers trying to marry me off to who ever they can find! This summer I also took the opportunity to visit some of my friends from the Peace Corps who live in other cities across the country. First on the list was a visit to the Black Sea coast. A group of us traveled down to the Romanian/Bulgarian border to an old hippy beach town, Vama Veche. We crashed on the beach with a tent and blankets, slept very little, meet a ton of great people and had a lot fun. If ever in Romania during July or August make the trip to Vama Veche and par-take in all the bon-fires with guitars, no worries atmosphere and nude beach if you so desire! I also managed to spend a bit of time in the European Union´s Cultural Capital for 2007, Sibu. It is a very beautiful, small town feel city with plenty of entertainment. I read Bram Stocker´s ˝Dracula˝ this summer and while doing so was able to visit the city of his birthplace, Sighisoara. I really enjoyed my time in Sighisoara and was even able to drink a couple beers while bobbing my head to some Bob Marley songs covered by a local band! Keeping in the theme of Dracula I went for a visit to the supposed Dracula Castle in Bran. I have to be honest, it was a pretty big disappointment, I mean the tour does not even take you to a dungeon or anything...Oh well! The culmination of summer was my Mid-Service Conference with the Peace Corps. It has been 1 year and 4 months since I arrived in Romania, believe it or not and it was a great opportunity to self reflect on all that has happened since my arrival. School year 2008/2009 begins in 6 days, which I am still having a hard time believing. I really enjoyed myself this summer, riding the rails, visiting new lands and learning new trades. One aspect of living in this 1,000 person village that has been a bit challenging is always living under a microscope. I love the openness and friendliness of the community I live in, but sometimes it is nice to be a stranger in a strange land, getting lost in the crowd. However, no matter how much fun I had on the beaches of the Black Sea or throwing bricks around in Timisoara, there is no place like home!

6:33 a.m. the coffee pot that is engulfed in flames is making another sleepless night come to an end. Once I push my hair and "almost sleep" out of my eyes I put on my work shirt, work shorts and chaco sandals that are for all occasions, work or play. As I make my way to the well to wash my face I feel the bright yellow sun staring me in the face beginning yet another all day game of hide & seek. Ignoring the regular stares from all the every morning observers while I brush my teeth I try to stretch my back a bit to get it ready for yet another day of construction work. The coffee is bitter and strong, when asked if I would like a shot of horlinka for "energy" I respectfully decline...respectfully meaning promising to take one after 12 noon. By 7:05 the entire construction site is filled with sounds of drills, chainsaws, gas generators and curse words. As we approach our duplex the second floor walls are looking significantly taller than the day before and the blisters on my hands have actually turned into callouses over night. After wheel barrelling the usual 10-15 wheel barrels of sand next to the mixer I climb up to the second floor and ask whats next. For most of the week we had electricity through a gas powered generator. However this morning the generator appears to be broken, why no one knows but that is the way it is and there is nothing we can do about it until it is picked up and taking to get fixed. It is now approaching 9:00 a.m. and I am already losing, as usual, the game of hide and seek from the blistering sun. There was for at least one half second where I thought "what can we do without electricity? we cannot make the cement like stuff we use to lay the bricks (I know it is sad I do not know what it is called in English but I know it in Romanian), we cannot use the wench to raise the wheel barrels of bricks to the second floor (yes that is correct they purchased a small wench to save their backs), thus we cannot add to the height of our walls. As soon as that half second crossed through my mind I am pounding nails into scaffolding about half the height of the duplex. I had to laugh to myself while I was picking up the bricks off the second story floor, that were placed there by Vasile who had them placed at his feet on the scaffolding by the two other dudes that work with them, who brought them over from the pallets next to the street in their wheel barrels. (make sense? good!) No electricity! Ion and Vasile are just getting familiar with working with such amenities as electricity, mixers and wenches. For years they have built homes in the village making cement on plastic tarps, carrying bricks up stairs and using axes instead of chain saws, ha ha what was I thinking! Finally 9:30/10:00 a.m. comes around and we break for breakfast. I gladly eat the fried pig fat, boiled eggs and white bread, I am going to need every bit of energy possible. After breakfast I just left my shirt at home, it is already close to 90 degrees and not a cloud in the sky, it was not even worth carrying on my shoulder. While working as a merchandiser in downtown Detroit, I thought carrying around cases of Carlo & Rossi jugged wine were hard on the body, especially the hands and back...I was wrong! Cement bricks have a nice way of slicing the corners of your fingers and rubbing away your fingerprints like nothing else! Not to mention there is a reason in the gangster movies they strap cement bricks to the feet of the guy going into the river, they are heavy. Once all the bricks where on the second floor and after many water/shade breaks we broke for lunch. We all take our time eating in the cool shade and then have no problem closing our eyes for a mid-day siesta hiding from the high afternoon sun, the score is still way in favor of the sun for the day. While drinking yet another cup of coffee and making up another excuse for refusing another shot of horlinka even after my earlier promise, I chat with the neighboring construction workers. My knowledge of swear words has increased 150% since I arrived at the construction site, I have even learned them with the different regional accents! Most of the men working in our same area are all from small village communities from all over Romania coming to Timisoara to make money to support their families. Most of them who have not been home since may or April, I wont lie some of them enjoy the freedom and all that cities have to offer but many others because they cannot afford to. Ion and Vasile, make it a point to come back to the village every month even if it is for just 2-3 days. Still no electricity and with all the bricks on the second floor, it is time for a little summer cleaning. On the main floor their were still all the wooden support stilts in place supporting the ceiling. We knocked all these down and any remaining wooden boards on the walls and put them in piles. I also had the duty of removing nails from the large straight boards that would reused on the second floor. It was not my favorite thing to do but it was in the shade and who am I to complain when I was just there for a week. Right around 9:30 p.m. the sun is making its way out of the city and we finish our summer cleaning. As we talk about the day and all curse the generator (even me with my newly learned Romanian swear words!) you can see all of our eye lids are getting heavy. Back at our room (they stay in a room of a building that has already been built but is just the cement walls, no windows or doors except a plastic sheet)everyone asked if I would like them to warm up some water on their gas stove to kind of sort of shower. I thank them but decline, gas for the stove is expensive and they don't do it so I'm not either, I wanted to be a worker for a week not a visitor. Instead I finally agree to those two shots of horlinka I avoided earlier, splash a bit of cold water from the well on my face and chest, eat the fried potatoes with pig fat and lay on my part of the mattress slowly closing my eyes swatting the bugs away. Before the week was over the generator had returned and was working like a charm. I learned how to lay bricks for the first time in my life and was told I did a good job. After my six days of work (their work week is monday through saturday, and around 13-14 hours a day) I was exhausted yet strangely felt very alive. Walking back to our room saturday night, it was a great sense of accomplishment signing how high the walls had gotten since my arrival six days ago. The height of the walls was not the only sense of accomplishment I felt after my week at the site. When I first arrived I was the "Americano" but by weeks end it was Alex.

˝Three Cups of Tea˝ by Greg Mortenson & David Oliver Relin. Also here is a pic of myself and Ion doing some field work...

Seroiusly Read this book, it is an important message!

Ciao

It is good to be home, well almost home. I am back in Romania, sitting in my favorite Internet cafe in Romania 51km from the village. After spending the last couple weeks traveling to Bucharest then to Barcelona, Spain and back again I am excited to get home. My clothes are in desperate need of a wash, my tired shoulders need to let go of my monstrous back pack and my body is in need of more than two nights sleep on the same pillow. My tanned face is a constant reminder of a my wonderful first visit to the great country of Spain. My timing could not have been better to arrive in Barcelona. Within my first three days in Spain, I was able to watch and celebrate both of Spain's victories in their semi-final and final matches making them the 2008 European Cup Championships, Viva Espana! Walking up and down La Ramblas in the Gothic District of Barcelona, drinking cans of Estrella Galacia, horns honking, Spanish flags waving and naturally crowds chanting "Ole, Ole, Ole" all night long, was pretty amazing! In between the excitement of the European Cup Semi-finals and finals, my friend Katelyn and I were able to catch Jack Johnson playing with his buddies Mason Jennings and G-Love & Special Sauce...need I saw more, it was amazing and the first time I had ever seen Jack live! Once the hangover of Spain's European Cup Championship cleared up, we left the city limits of Barcelona for a mountain town/village Montserrat. There is a very famous and beautiful Monastery that makes up Montserrat and is home to a Statue of a Black Virgin. I am not 100% sure but from what I gathered from what little I understand in Spanish and Catalan I think this statue is unique to the whole world. Montserrat was a nice break from the hustle and bustle of Barcelona. After leaving Montserrat we cruised up the coast of the Mediterranean to the Costa Brava region of Spain and landed in little fishing village called Tossa de Mar. Tossa was my favorite part of the trip besides the Jack Johnson concert. I think the influences living in a small village in Romania have been more profound than I realized. Beside the homey, friendly feel and amazing sea food of Tossa, the real attraction for me were their beaches. My Mom has always told me how beautiful and unique the Mediterranean is, but you can never get a grasp of it until you see, feel and taste it...I obviously need to improve my swimming skills! The water is a vivid crystal clear blue contrasting the beaches golden brown, pebbly surface. Costa Barva is known for its rough and rocky coastline and I know can understand its appeal. We spent 3 days in Tossa before having to return to Barcelona to catch our flights. Unfortunately, I was unable to make it down the south of Spain on this trip. Tourist season prices were in full effect for airlines and trains so I will just have to go back for a return visit and focus on the south of Spain and maybe even the Canary Islands! I could not believe how easy it was to get around in all the parts of Spain I visited, every where we went it was so easy to get there with signs, bus schedules and all. Also, Barcelona is a large city with a ton of tourists, but the city is unbelievably clean! Even the monday morning after Spain's victory over Germany, the streets were spotless! Lastly, the Spanish people I meet and interacted with were extremely friendly and laid back. I guess this is understandable, coming from a culture that puts up the CLOSED sign for 2-3 hours every afternoon for a siesta, why didn't Americans ever catch on to that one!? I will be honest, after the nine days that I spent in Spain I was missing Romania and specifically my village. Understandably I am very biased towards Romania because I am living here, but it really is a beautiful country with very friendly, hospitable people and culture. I remember when I first arrived in Romania one year and a couple of months ago not being able to understand and communicate with the people. It was a frustrating, exhausting feeling and one that I had not felt for awhile until I arrived in Spain. It was very nice to arrive at Bucharest's OTP International airport and be able to ask for direction to the train station in Romanian. It was even better when on the train back towards the village I was asked where I was from and I told them a small village in Maramures, Poinele Izei.

Something that has been singing in my head lately:

"Who's to say

What's impossible

Well they forgot

This world keeps spinning

And with each new day

I can feel a change in everything

And as the surface breaks reflections fade

But in some ways they remain the same

And as my mind begins to spread its wings

There's no stopping curiosity..."

- Jack Johnson

June 24, 2008...One year, one month and nine days since I started my journey as a Peace Corps Volunteer in Romania. I cannot believe how fast the time has gone by..."time flys when you are having fun" has never been more true! I finished my first school year as a teacher just two weeks ago. I have to be honest, I am glad to be on summer vacation until September. I love working with kids and I did have a lot of fun this past school year but I dont see my self being a teacher after this peace corps experience. However, I do believe looking back on the whole school year, my teaching performance improved as the year went by as well as my kid's english speaking ability. There was a lot of trail and error this first year, and I won't lie there were a lot of errors. I do take pride in learning from a lot of those mistakes and trying to correct them, but it is going to take some more time. When I first started with classes back in September, I think I had some pretty high goals in mind as far as my effectivness as a teacher of English and what the kids would accomplish. Because of those self impossed, out of reach standards, I would get easily frustrated which was not helping anyone, especially the kids, learn english. I learned that each day was going to be different, there would be certain variables I could not control and in the end the kids reacted to what I brought to the classroom, phyisacally and emotionally. Instead of worrying that my 8th grade class could not write a paragraph using only past tense verbs, I focused on the fact that they were able to write an understandable paragraph in english, which they could not do when we started the year. Instead of preparing minute to minute lesson plans everyday, with an introduction, practice and conclusion, I would show up with nothing but a smile, a sence of adventure and ask them where they wanted to go...and trust me, showing up to a middle school level classroom and putting them in charge you need a huge sence of adventure. Kids are just like the rest of us just smaller, they have good days and bad days and if anything they are even more vulneriable to the emotional roller coaster that is life. As an English teacher I realized some days my only concern was teaching english, which is not my primary role if you ask me. As a teacher in the school I have a much larger role than just teaching them English. First of all I should be somebody they can trust, I should be a good role model and be attentive to whats going on in their crazy "middle school aged" world. After all of that then the English can come into play. Instead of trying to introduce some english grammar in a lesson that I am not even sure how to use as a native english speaker, when the next day is a huge "sink or swim" math exam for those that would like to have a chance to move on to a high quality high school in the future...I brought in my guitar and taught them some Jack Johnson songs or had a class discussion in Romanian about what is important in their lives. Through out the course of the year I think I kicked out every single one the boys in my 7th grade class at one time or another, no joke. Finally, I realized that most of them just loved the attention of getting called out in front of the whole class by the "push over" American english teacher..."push over" because their other Romanian teachers would probably give a nice tug on the ear. So, the next time one of the same boys acted up worthy of getting kicked out my class and instead of embarassing him in front of the whole class, which I have to say is very effective and kind of fun for me, but probably not very appropriate and I only did once...maybe twice, I just simply asked the class what they wanted from english class... complete and utter Silence! "Wait, did he just ask us what we wanted from english class? Is this guy for real?" Obviously, very student wanted the highest grade possible, a 10 in the offical grade book. Then I told them what I consider a 10 in the grade book. Number one my list was not speaking perfect english or even acing every single test, it was respect. Number 2 was effort and number 3 was responsibility. These are all things that I wish I would have known from day 1 but whats the fun in knowing everything?! I learned a smile, a question, a high five, a pat on the back, a turn of the head can go along way in the survivial of being a teacher. Needless to say, I learned an incrediable amount about myself this school year and I am looking forward to getting back started with school in Septembr, but after taking full advantage of these next few summer months!

The school year could not have ended from me any better way. The Peace Corps Director for all of Peace Corps from Washington DC was in Romania for an offical country visit. Part of his tour of Romania was to Poienile Izei to visit with myself and all those who have played such a large role in my wonderful experiences thus far. I was very honored at the inviatation of hosting the Director and I have to say it went better than I could have imagined. The Director from DC was accompanyied by the Peace Corps Director of Romania as well as by the TEFL (Teach English as a Foreign Language) director for Peace Corps Romania, in other words every singe one of my bosses at every level was present! The whole village played a part in the visist and rightfully so, since the whole village has been such a huge part of my life here. There was an official/tradional greating by the mayor, vice mayor, school director, myself and of course the priest... with bread, salt and horlika...in that order! There was a wonderful tradional song & dance performance put on by some of the children from the village. There was a visit to the really old wooden church in the center of the village (I always forget how old but it is really old, there was a visit to my home to meet my amazing host family. Finally the visit was brought to a close with a great home cooked "picnic sytle" meal in a neighbors backyard. However, all of these events took the back seat to the performace by my 6th grade class, who sang "Cupid" by Jack Johnson accompanied by myself on accustic guitar, in front of the largest American audience they have ever seen. Not only did they nail the song they received a standing oviation as well...there were calls for an encore...one small problem, I only taught them that one song, way to go English teacher...way to go! I was very proud to show everyone who came, the progresses that I have made and all the sucesses I have had.

This may be my longest post yet...a large part of that is because I am waiting for my train to leave at 5:41 p.m. and it is only 3:12 and I sitting in an internet cafe. I am making my way down to Bucharest tonight arriving tomorrow morning to get my teeth cleaned and have my yearly medical check-up. I get to spend a bit of time in the country's capital before I catch a flight to Barcelona, Spain Thursday afternoon. I will in Spain until July 5th, relaxing on the beaches of the Mediteranian, drinking sangria and searching the land of Duende for my continous search of my Duende...Salut!

I really do live in a kind of paradise! I have never seen a landscape this color green in all of my life. There is a smell in the air that is the true definition of "clean air." Although the lack of transportation in and out of the village can be a bit frustrating at times, the absence of smog and/or pollution allows you to see for km's on km's when the sky is filled with blue. The grass has grown to about thigh length which is the indication to start making hay. I have spent the last 2 weeks learning how to make hay. The process of making hay is not all that complicated, it really just involves a lot of common sense and of course a strong back. Most of the villagers have purchased this kind of industrial lawn mowers from the Romanian government about 2 years ago for a good price...apparently the government paid for half of the cost and the villagers were left to cover the other half, not a bad deal. However, just as when you cut the grass at your home you are not able to reach certain spots of grass with the lawn mower, well the same is true here with these mowers. One slight difference though is that back in the states you just fire up your weed whacker and call it a day. Well here, the weed whacker is a scythe (the instrument that was made famous by the grim reaper) and of course this is human powered. It is a kind of custom or right of passage to be able to use the scythe. It is a very sharp blade and can obviously slice off a finger or toe just as easily as it does the blades of grass. Last summer when I arrived, I asked if I could help with using this instrument and I was told no, that it is a lot of work and that I should just stick to the rake. Now I understand why I was not allowed to take part in this ritual. First, you have to flatten the blade to make it nice and straight. This is done by pounding a wooden stub into the ground in between your legs while sitting down on the grass. Next you start with the part of the blade closest to the handle putting it on the wooden stump. After this you spit a large portion of spit on the blade and whack the blade with a small hammer until flat and straight. I have not yet learned the art of this technique, but I was told I would be taught in time as long as I swore to secrecy I would not tell it to anyothers. Next you sharpen the blade with a sharpening rock starting with the wide part of the blade sharpening your way down to the slim part. I did learn this part of the ritual and I will tell you it scares me to death. I am not a very good guitar player as it is with 5 fingers I could only imagine what it would sound like trying to play with 4 or 3! Finally, after the sharpening of the blade it is time to start cutting. It looks so effortless for the men and women of the village, it is so rhythmic with equal movements. Again, not so easy! If you go too fast you do not cut evenly, if you go too slow the blade gets stuck, if you are too close you can lose a toe, if you are too far away you will be there all day...it is defiantly a skill of touch and finesse. After a couple of days of practice, countless instructions from bunica (the 70 something year old grandma of my host family, who could cut a field with a scythe faster and more evenly than with a lawn mower)I would consider myself a decent cutter. I asked my family why they would not let me use the scythe last summer when I arrive and they told me "last summer you were an American, this summer you are a villager, I have earned the right!" Once all the grass is cut, the next day, as long as the weather is warm and sunny you go back with pitch forks and turn the grass over, so that the underside of the grass is allowed to dry. Wet grass in a haystack creates mold which not matter how hungry the cows and horses are they will not touch. Once the grass is finally dried all the way around it is time to make the hay stacks. We make different hay stacks depending on the type of grass it is...again I swore to secrecy I would not give away the secrets of this practice either, sorry! So this has been my life for the last 2 weeks. School is in the last week and then we begin summer vacation! I am preparing for my first visit to Spain in the end of June. However, before I leave for the beaches of Barcelona, I have a few things to take care of. The director of the Peace Corps in Washington D.C. is coming to Romania for an official visit for a couple of days and is even making time for a visit in the village of yours truly! It should be a great experience and the whole village is really excited. I have to teach a pracice lesson in front of the troop from DC. I have taught my 6th graders "cupid" by Jack Johnson and we will be performing it for our visitors. The kids are doing a great job with the song and are excited to show off their skills. Other than that life is good, everyday is a new adventure with a ton of surprises! Ciao :)

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

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

"Breathe, breathe in the air

Don't be afraid to care

Leave but don't leave me

Look around and chose your own ground

For long you live and high you fly

And smiles you'll give and tears you'll cry

And all you touch and all you see

Is all your life will ever be"

- Pink Floyd

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

A little hitch hiking and 4 hours on a bus next thing you know you have arrived in Cluj. Cluj is a great university city just south of the village on the far northern edge of the famous Transylvania region. I decided that I needed bit of a break from all of the fresh air the village has to offer and get back to civilisation for a few days. Cluj has a lot to offer...shops, restaurants, a night life and even starbucks (the second one in Romania)! Oh and Obviously a plethora of internet cafes. So that gets us up to speed to where I currently am. So now for a brief update on the last couple of weeks.

So I thought digging a 1/2 meter deep trench was back breaking...little did I know that filling it in would be just as tiring if not more. We laid the plastic piping from the source of the spring all the way down to a valley where more pipes will be needed to led to the respective homes. All in all we laid and re-filled 100 meters of pipe and dirt respectively. I was given a spade and slap on the back and we got started. My hands became blistered despite the nice hard layer of Clausius they have developed from all the wood I have chopped, but I kept on. That afternoon was quite unusual, it rained, snowed, hailed, the sun shined and there were bouts of wind that almost knocked me over. Just I as I was hitting my stride we broke for lunch, which because of the fast going on consisted of bean soup, garlic and orange soda...a far cry from the traditional "mountain spread" consisting of pig fat, smoked sausages and horlinka...however it satisfied the emptiness in my stomach. Just as it was digging the trench, filling it in takes no special talent, just a lot of elbow grease and back breaking effort. Everyone on the hillside laughed as they asked me if I has ever done this type of work before in the States. This was a saturday and as with every saturday around 6:30 - 7:00 pm a bell rings out from the church letting everyone know to cease whatever work they are doing and go home, relax and clean up for Sunday, the day of church, family and cabbage rolls. We still had a touch of work left as well as a ray of sun still shining from the fast sinking sun when we heard the bell ringing off the mountain side. Immediately, all of the women with us dropped their shovel or spade and said good night. I was exhausted, really really exhausted, but I just wanted to finish and not have to worry about coming back up here the following week. So being the team player that I am and the only one of the troop who is not Orthodox I keep the spade in my hand and kept rocking. All the old women told me that I did not have the permission from god to keep working but I joked back that I didn't understand what they were saying in Romanian and that because I was not Orthodox I was cool...one of the benefits of speaking more than one language! Finally we finished filling in the trench, all 100 meters and needless to say I sleep damn good that night! I could not bend my fingers the next day, or my body for that matter... however I always feel better about stuffing my face with cabbage rolls on Sunday after a hard days work.

With Easter on its way, we have 8 lambs running around the barn and just as a couple of days ago a baby goat which I just looked up and is called a kid on english. We started off with a set of twin lambs and then over the course of the last 3 weeks every so often there would be another one on the barn floor in the morning. They are amazingly playful, soft and cute. For the first 6-8 weeks they are not able to eat anything but their mothers milk and cows milk out of a bottle. I have been assisting the two boys with this process, which is not as easy as one would think. The lambs and kid do not stay in the same part of the barn as their moms, because other moms will kick them and be abusive. Therefore, when it is time to feed the lambs we bring the mothers into one part of the barn from the field and then go after the lambs and kid. However, the lambs and the kid stay in the same part of the barn as the horse and cow, but in a separate compartment. We have to be careful when letting the lambs out because they spook the horse who could easily crush them with her hooves and from the cow who tries to gore them every chance she gets. Finally once the are in with their mothers they feed and then we have to separate them and put them outside. This is the best part of me. Once away from their moms the start running wildly and jumping every where. If you run with them they get even crazier and more out of control. After a bit of play time they are carefully guided back to their pin where they await the cows milk. I have been assigned this task which I signed up for but had no idea what I was getting myself into. As soon as those lambs see the bottle of warm cows milk the all attack me and try to climb up my legs, in my boots and over whoever is in their path to the milk. Once one has a hold of the nipple on the bottle, others push, shove, bite, do whatever is necessary to saviour a taste. The even resort to biting at my pants which scared the hell out of me the first time and brought tears to my families eyes because they laughed so hard. As hazardous as it is with those sweet Innocent lambs and kid I love doing it and look forward to it every night. Oh also, in my two attempts at milking the cow I have failed miserably, not even a drip comes out! I try to warm up to her before but she as nothing to do with me, I think she is playing hard to get. Maybe some candles and a glass of wine would help?

Ciao, SUTW & Keep smiling

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

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

SUTW

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

*I love Love - Amazing!

*I love my cell phone charger - When asked why, this student resonded "because with out the charger my cell phone will not work and I won't be able to text message...good point I thought.

*I love my english teacher - An "A" for her

*I love the color of the sky everyday - A Romanian Bob Dylan

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

I love my family

I love my friends

I love Chipotle Burritos

I love traveling

I love being told I can not do something

I love sun rises

I love sun sets

I love the mountains

I love the beach

I love to laugh

I love to smile

I love to love

I love to be loved

I love to day dream

I love my brother's laugh

I love living in my village in Romania

I love being outside

I love Music

I love playing the same great song on repeat

I love t-shirts and jeans

I love reading the New York Times

I love to be curious

I love to explore

I love the sound of accustic guitars

I love to be challenged

I love the feeling of nerves, excitement, happiness, sadness anything that is real

I love not being told what to do

I love to drive with the windows down

I love road trips

I love making mistakes and learning from them

I love to get lost

I love what I am doing

I love LIfe

I love to Shake Up the World

Much Love to all :)

2008 is only a month old, but what I year it has already been! I had a wonderful visit back to the States for the holidays. It was so nice to be with family and friends that I had not seen in many months and/or years. My travels back to Romania were long, tiring, adventourous, fun, eventul and did I mention tiring?! Despite the 3 days of no sleep and going from Planes, trains to automobiles I arrived into the village with a smile on my face and plenty of questions to answer. Everyone was so curious about my visit to the states, if I had fun, what I did for christmas and New Years?, How was my family?, How were my friends?, Do you have pictures?, How was Las Vegas?, Did I drink a lot of whiskey?, Was I glad to be back in the village?, did I get married while I was home?, and plenty of others. For my first week back, I spent the majoirity of it trying to lose the jet-lag that filled my head and get back into the lifestyle that is the village. Naturally, everyone was concerned I did not have "fresh food" while I was home, meaning village food. As a result every house I passed would command me to the dinner table for more than enough pork, potatoes, cabbage rolls and of course horlinka...I did not complain! All of my kids were excited to have me back in school, they all were very curious about my travels and when I showed them on a world map the travels I had made in the last 3 weeks the intrigue flowed even more. 99% of my kids have not even been to another city than one 60km from the village, much less out of the country, none of them could not even comprehend the roads I had traveled in a short time, but it was a great teaching lesson! Ever since my return, I have had parents coming up to me saying that their son doesn't want to get his hair cut and wants to go to Budapest, Hungry for summer vacation...opps so much for a good influeance at least they are saying please and thank you now!

Once my head cleared of the jet-lag and I caught up on my sleep, I picked up right where I left off, helping with whatever needs to be done. At the house, we were in need of some fire wood, wood for a new fence and wood to use for building a new room in the attic of the house I live in, in other words we needed wood. Therefore, one friday morning Ion (the husband of the family I live with), Vasile (the brother-in-law of Ion) and I took off to a specific part of the forest in the surrounding mountains. We left the house at the crack of dawn with an old creeky wagon attached to two dark brown beautiful horses. Straped on the wagon was a chainsaw, bought in the Ukraine and smuggled into Romania but with a sticker on it "Made in Tucson, AZ"!) two freshly sharpend axes and one very excited American. The journey to the part of the forest that we needed to get to was a long, bumpy one with a lot of snow and ice that tripped me up more than it did the horses, in all it was probably a 5 mile treck. It was crisp, clear and cold as the Mountain air chapped our noses and cheeks but the warmth of the sun was on the rise. Once, we arrived at out destination I dried off the horses with their respective blankets after which I placed on their backs to keep them warm while they ate. Ion gathered some hay from a feeding post while vasile loosed the riens in the horses mouthes to allow them to eat easier. Obvoiusly, Ion and Vasile knew exactly what they were doing, where as I was all eyes and ears as it was my first time chopping down a tree. You can imagine it is not rocket science cutting down a tree but as with anything there is a right way to do things and a wrong way to do things, Ion and Vasile do things the right way. I was in charge of clearing the snow from the base of the tree we desired and to chop away the first couple inches of bark from the ground. After which, Ion cut a wedge into the base with the chain saw in the direciton he wanted it to fall and then finally another wedge on the other side of the tree then...TIMBER! Once the tree fell, Vasile and I, with the axes, shaved all the branches from the trunk and then cleared a path for the horses and wagon. All in all we cleared five trees for the forest, 3 of them being at least 8 feet long and each weighing way more than I ever thought 3 people could lift. Once again, my perception was wrong! After lunch, which consited of pig fat back, onions, bread, creek water and a shot of horlinka we discussed what trees would be placed first on the wagon, well Ion and Vasile discussed but I was attentivly listening. Again not rocket science, the largest trees go on the bottom and the lighest/smaller ones on top. Vasile went after a couple of the larger branches that we cut off before lunch. Two of the branches were angled off at their ends and laid at an angle on the side of the wagon near the front and another at the back, creating a kind of ramp. I stuck my branch under the trunk first and pushed up as well as I could, next Vasile stuck his branch under the tree and pushed as best he could, then Ion doing the same, then the process returned to me and we continued this progression until the trunk was rolled right up on the two branches making the ramp. After this, we practiced the same methods until the trunk rolled up on the ramp and then just kept lifting and pushing, lifting and pushing until that son of a bitch was on the wagon! Words do not do this practice justice and trust me there were a lot worse words that came out of all our mouthes than son of a bitch! We did this four more times, each time the trunks getting a little lighter and smaller but my legs and back getting a little more tired. These horses were unbelieveable, they were pulling this load of lumber down these narrow, steep trails with snow, ice and mud with out much of a concern. I will admit I was completly exhuasted on our journey back to the village and the sun was begining to set with the cold airbeginging to fill the air. We were just about to the main path of the village when I could smell the burning of all wood on the stove when suddenly I heard a loud "POP." After, Vasile asked me what "OH SHIT" meant in Romanian, we realized one of the tires on the wagon had blown. I was a little more than curious about what we were to do and a bit frustrated, I was looking forward to a hot feast of bean soup, fried pork and horlinka. I looked to Ion and Vasile with a look of "what now?" and immeadiatly we began to laugh out loud like crazy men. I am pretty sure they both said somethings that would translate to some very inappropriate words in english and then Vasile reached into his jacket, pulled out a quarter liter bottle of horlinka and said with a huge smirk and his shoulders raised "Ce se facem?"...."what are we going to do?" and their we sat watching the sunset over the far mountains passing the bottle until there was no more. We pushed off the top three trunks and very carefully took the horses and wagon with the remaining two trunks to the barn. The whole path back to the barn other villagers were asking us what happened and if we knew we had a flat tire, as if they had the nerve, ha ha. I really believe that nights sleep was the best I have ever had in my life! The next morning we fixed the flat and went back after our lumber without any kind of problem. I really admired Ion and Vasile on the way the handled this adversity. I know I was frustrated and saying some pretty nasty things under my breath and they obviously have way more invested in this wood than I do and it would have been easy for them to get mad and upset, or atleast understandable. However, as is the general attitude of the people of the village, what good would that do, it isn't going it fix the flat tire and I think it helped we had the horlika! I have since been back to the forest one other time with Ion and Vasile and I will continue to go as often as I can, I love it out there. Also, I hleped kill the family pig and even assisted in the butchering and making of sausages and have been helping a friend of mine with the construction of his new house. Oh and you will all be happy to know that while I was gone for christmas the driver of the van that takes villegers to the city put in wooden benches in the van, so no more potato sacks for me! LIFE IS GOOD !!

Ciau

My eyes are heavy like 5:30 a.m., and they get even heavier when I ask what time it is and I hear 4:30 a.m! At this point, my exhaustion of being awake for the past 24 hours nor the bitter cold of a Budapest morning in mid December could ruin this moment. I am drinking a bottle of wine, out of the bottle, with people who were complete strangers one hour ago on the banks of the Danube River. The city's morning commute is coming to a crawl and if not for the Gothic clouds above, the sun would be rising. What a way to spend my first 3 hours in Budapest! Budapest is an extraordinary city, with an abundance of culture and warm people. Even though the sun did not shine once the whole time I was there, the endless holiday decorations, hot spiced wine (red & white) and a visit to the natural hot springs made up for it. Going from village life to Budapest was a complete 180 degree turn, but Budapest was just the beginning...up next the 12 hour plane ride back to the States for the first time in 7 months!

A window seat has never felt so good. With sounds of the captain saying "blah, blah...Amsterdam direct to Detroit, MI...blah, blah" I got really excited thinking about heading back to the States for the holidays and what my life will be like over there while I am home. Then, I also got really excited about thinking back at my last 7 months in Romania and all that has happened, been accomplished and all that is my life over there. Finally, I just smiled...about life in general and how much I really love what I am doing and what I am doing with "my life." The old Scottish man seating next to me took his eyes from his novel and asked me what I was smiling about. I chuckled and replied, "where should I begin?" His interest grew even stronger and then asked, "Where are you from and where have you been?" Again, I laughed and replied with a proud smile, "Where should I begin?" After he closed his book and removed his glasses he simply said "how about you start at the beginning?" He was a bit confused at how I started the year 2007 living in downtown Detroit, working at a bar to now finishing the year 2007 teaching english in a tiny village in Northern Romania. But what really threw him for a loop was when I described him the village I live in with the wood burning stoves, fresh cows milk, the Clausius on my hands from chopping wood, my daily meals of pig fat back and being the one and only english speaker, all with a sparkle in my eye. He is mystified that one, I would volunteer to leave the United States for a tiny village in Romania and two, I actually enjoy it. I ask for a glass of sparkling water as he demands a lemon with his pepsi light (diet pepsi) and I continue on with my endless accounts of new experiences. It seems he is genuinely interested and inquires about my favorite part of living in Romania and I respond rather quickly without even having to think about it..."top 5 in no particular order, my village, the landscape (mountains etc.), the food, the culture and the horlinka." Obviously, he wants to know more about the horlinka, but I tell him words won't do it justice so I wont try, just know it is Delicious! The old man comments, I speak very passionately about my experiences and my new life in Romania, I agree and ask if he is going to eat his bag of peanuts because I am absolutely starving. The food on the plane was quite nice, luckily I went with the pasta and boy was I glad, I peaked at the lady's chicken in front of me on my way to the restroom and it looked a bit like a piece of cardboard, we even got ice cream for dessert, it was chocolate...but that is neither here nor there. So, just as I grab my headphones and my ipod the old scot asks me what I have learned from my time and experiences in Romania thus far. I put the Ryan Adams on pause and listed of few things that come to mind...patience, flexibility, open-mindness, love, perseverance, not being afraid to fail, confidence, how to dig up potatoes, to make hay, drive a horse and wagon, simplicity, serenity, make cement, self reflection, to chop wood, speak Romanian, trust strangers (but not just any stranger), adaptation and a new culture just to name a few. He nods approvingly and I begin to hum "La cienega just smiled" when I lean over and say "Oh ya, and I have found I'm much happier when I'm living my life with passion for what I am doing and with a smile on my face."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Detroit, Metro airport in the United States of America...local time is blah, blah and customs this and customs that..." It feels good to be home...

- Peace & Love in the New Year -

Its 20:01 (8:01 p.m.) on a cold November Wednesday and I am raising my glass while everyone around me is yelling "To Many Years!" with a great eastern european accent. I have just had yet another cross-cultural expereince...in the village when ever you drink a shot of horlinka or alcohol in general you always say "La Multi Ani" which translates directly to "To Many Years." One of the gentlemen at the table asked me what Americans say when they drink whiskey, because every American drinks whiskey...at least that is his persepective, and I tell him that "cheers" is a common expression. But then I tell him and the others at the table that "La Multi Ani" translates to "To Many Years." I wrote it down for everyone to see and together we repeated it out loud 10 to 15 times, They loved it! As you might imagine, everyone at the table was very excited about learning an English expression that relates to drinking, so we practiced and practised, but naturally we could not practise saying "To Many Years" with empty glasses, we had to make the situation as real as possible! My lesson was a complete success, 100% participation and everyone passed with flying colors. As I left the group for bed, everyone in the room stood up...some faster than others, and in unison they let out one last "To Many Years." It is 6:03 (6:03 a.m.) the next morning and it is even colder than the day before. The wood burning stove next to my bed still has a bit of warmth glowing from it but the cold breeze outside is making it difficult to get out from under the covers. I make a dash for my slippers and a sweatshirt and luckly there is still a bit of hot water left over from last nights fire. As I wash away the haze from last nights lesson plan I think about the day ahead... my mission, go to the city and pick up a package from the post office...easy enough, right? In general there is one van that leaves from the village to the city on Tuesdays and Thursdays and it generally leaves at 6:40 a.m., generally being the key word. I skate my way up & down the frozen ashphalt to the center of the village where the van generally leaves from. 6:40 comes and goes, but at least there are others waiting with me, so I know the van is coming, sometime. 7:05 a.m. the roar of the cold, tired motor comes to a scretching stop and I pile into the red van behind the rest of the group, I'm going to the city! The fact my fingers and toes might be frozen does not bother me too bad nor does that fact that my nose is a driping focuet, my main concern is that I don't think my eyes have blinked since I left the house, they might be frozen open...oh well, ce sa fac (what are you going to do?) As I make myself comfortable on the bench (well, two sacks of potatoes with a blanket over them) I over hear the many conversations passing by me. I am able to pick up bits and pieces from a couple of them...the two old men to my right are talking about last nights futbol (soccer) match, but I did not catch the score. The three middle aged women in the corner are discussing the latest and greatest village gossip..."Maria and Ion's pig is bigger than last year, what are they feeding it, it can't be natural!" Meanwhile, the two men directly accross from me are staring at my hair sprouting from under my knit hat, one saying "Do you think he just can't afford a hair cut, I know he is a volunteer, but you would think he would have enough for a trim" and the other responding "That must be it, maybe we could all chip in and help him out, poor guy." I smile under my lips and pretend not to know what they are saying, watching the white clouds from my breath disapear. The frost covered window is starting to let in a ray or two from the rising sun, when I am asked why I am going to the city. I tell the spectators that I received a package and I have to pick it up from the post office in the city. "Where was it sent from and who sent it?"...It was sent from America but I am not sure who sent it, it will be a surprise. "Is it filled with money?"....ha ha, no I dont think so, but that would be a nice surprise. "Is it a bottle of whiskey? I bet it is because everyone from America drinks whiskey."...Maybe, and if it is, I will bring you a glass of it. "Are you married?"...Umm No, no I am not married. "Well I have a daughter, a neice, a friend of my daughter and a cousin of my aunt's sister's friend who are all very nice girls and would love to marry you!"...Oh well thank you, ummm but, well ya, thats nice, thank you, oh it looks like we are here!

It is just approaching 9:59 a.m. and I am the first in line at the special area of the post office where you pick up packages. In the neighboring courtyard I see a troup of men chopping huge tree trunks into nicly organized piles of fire wood, they are going to have to hurry because the sun will be on its way out of town in about 7 hours and they have a lot of work to do. As I keep myself occupied watching the axes slipt the wood, a line is forming behind me and I overhear a murmor "I think he is here to pick up a package of money from America." The doors to the special package office open just after 10:17 a.m. (record time)and I get invited in by the uniformed dressed, stoned faced customs officer. I smile and make small talk with the officer, but it is a one way conversation, I open the box to show him what is inside and he looks disappointed...just a hunch but I think he thought I was getting a box of money from America too. I gave him a handfull of candy my cousins the Hunt's from Colorado sent and that seemed to lift his spirits a bit. As I walk out of the office everyone is trying to get peaks inside my package and one man mumbles, "Did you see it, it had to be at least one thousand if not two!" and as I make my way in search of a cup of coffee I crack a huge smile and laugh out loud. As I wait for the van to leave from the city back to the village, I take advantage of the internet cafes and pizza the city has to offer. I write an email to my parents telling them about my Thanksgiving dinner at the US Ambassadors house in Bucharest last week and how much fun it was. I write my sister and brother-in-law to see how my newly born neice, Emily, is doing and to tell them the pictures they sent of her were great. After this, I write an entry in my blog, which I have not had a chance to do in long while to tell all my friends and family about how great my life is going over here in Romania and especially the village. There are new challenges everyday but more times than not those challenges lead to new adventures and I would never trade those challenges in for certainty, even if I could. Also, I will tell them that I will be home in MI for Christmas and then I will be heading to Las Vegas after the New Year to meet up with my best buddy Fever. Then, from Vegas we will head south down to Phoenix, AZ for a our good buddy Nick's wedding and where we are getting the band back together.

"There's nothing you can do that can't be done

Nothing you can sing that can't be sung

Nothing you can say but you can learn how the play the game

It's easy

There's nothing you can make that can't me made

No one you can save that can't be saved

Nothing you can do but you can learn how to be you in time

It's easy

Nothing you can know that isn't known.

Nothing you can see that isn't shown.

Nowhere you can be that isn't where you're meant to be.

All you need is love

Love is all you need"

- The Beatles

I hope these words find everyone well and good! The fall is just about over, here in the village, there is a heavy frost every morning as a make my way to school. The knit hat is out, the winter jacket is being worn and there is a fire in my wood burning stove every night. Luckily, the sun shines all the time here or so it has for the last 2 or 3 weeks, which makes the bitter temps a little more bearable. I am a bit concerned as it is only the middle of October and winter is on the doorstep...what are November, December, January, February and March going to be like? I have to take a moment and give much love and respect to anyone who has been a teacher, is a teacher or will become a teacher....it is very difficult. Each day presents new and difficult challenges and just when you think your lesson is going they way you want it to, Ion in the back of the class is releasing a paper airplane from his hand on a straight line for Oana's head, some things are universal I guess. As the seasons have been changing so does the food, work and lifestyle in the village. I have never eaten so many potatoes in my life, trust me I am not complaining but I never knew there were so many ways to prepare potatoes...fried, baked, mashed, in soup, grated etc. Everyone is in a hurry to get all the fields cut and the grass up on a feeding posts, but you will not find that many people roaming around outside before 7:30 a.m. now-a-days...until the sun starts to warm things up and melt away the early mornings frost there is not much that can get accomplished. Also, with the days getting shorter you will hear the hooves of the horses and the wooden wheels of the carts being pulled, coming back from the fields not much later than 5:00 p.m. It is guaranteed that a walk outside as the sunsets will fill your nose with a refreshing scent of wood burning fires. I never knew how good food tastes when cooked on a wood burning stove, even tea and coffee have a much more natural flavor than if prepared on a gas stove..who knew? The family I stay with is done with there field work for the year, so I have been spending my free time chopping wood for the winter and helping other families bring in their crops. Also, with a bit more free time on my hands I have been working on reading "Don Quixote"...100 pages down and 800 more to go, but so far it has lived up to its hype... and playing a lot of guitar. My hair has grown considerably since I arrived in Romania in May and is finally serving a purpose keeping my ears warm on those brisk walks to school in the morning.

Peace & Love - Alexandru :)

Where to begin...I am still recovering from my first Romanian wedding this past weekend and I started my first week of school on Monday. I'll start with the wedding. What a celebration, I am telling you these people in the Village know how to work hard but I think they know how to party even harder! A daughter of some friends of mine in the village got married on this past saturday. The day started off around 2 p.m. where I was invited to walk with the father of the bride and friends to the god parents house of the bride where we drank and ate a full meal. After this, we paraded through the streets with a violin, guitar and drum to the house of the parents of the bride. I felt very privileged to be apart of this procession because it is a very traditional part of a Romanian wedding. Once we arrived at the house, the bride was sat next to her two sets of god parents, almost guarded by them actually, and we of course ate another full meal and drank more horlinka (moonshine brandy). There was a lot of singing going on and a lot of traditions that I did not fully grasp but it was very nice. Oh and the cake that was served was baked by the women in the village and I am telling you it was the best damn cake I have ever had! Around 4 p.m. the groom showed up to the house with his family and wedding party and he is greeted by the brides god parents and then finally the parents of the bride. The bride is protected by family and close friends until the very last minute, it was very interesting. After more singing and offerings of horlinka by the grooms party the bride and groom finally go arm in arm from the house to the church, about a 5 min walk, with all the guests behind them. The church service seemed very similar to the ones I have seen in the States, it was very nice. Then after the church service around 5:30 p.m. close friends and family jumped on a bus and went to another city, about an hour and half drive, to a restaurant and had what we would call the reception. At the reception there was a band playing traditional Romanian music and of course endless supplies of food, beer and horlinka! The eating, drinking and dancing lasted until 6 a.m.! Even at 6 a.m. when the bus departed back to the village, there was a pitcher of wine getting passed around and a bottle of horlinka! Needless to say I had a blast and was very very tired on sunday!

This brings us to Monday, my first day of school...actually the first day of school for every single school in Romania. The school in the village is quite large, two stories, for only a total of 80 students (Classes 1-8). Anyway, the first day was more of a celebration than anything. The priest came and sprinkled holy water on all of the students and teachers and in every classroom. After this, the kids went home and I got to meet the other teachers, a total of 9, and tried to figured out when and what I will be teaching this school year. I know the Australians made the expression 'no worries' popular but I think the Romanians are not far behind, at least in the village! After a couple of pots of coffee were drank and I showed off my decent knowledge of the Romanian language I found out I will be teaching grades 5-8 monday through thursday. The kids are great and very eager to learn english. There are a couple of students who can speak a little bit of english but for the most part they are all very basic beginners...it will defiantly be a challenging year, but a lot of fun as well. I blew the kids away, when I gave them a high five when they responded well!

I have continued to help out with the field work after school and even a little cement work with some neighbors if I have time. I hope everyone is having fun with whatever they are doing and I will talk to you all soon!

SHAKE UP THE WORLD!!!

Only a couple weeks before school starts and field work is on hold for a couple weeks, so what a better way to get mentally and physically prepared for a long school year and harvest season than a trip to the Sea Side...the Black Sea Side that is! After the combined 21 hour journey (15 hrs to Bucharest then another 6hrs to the coast, all by train) I finally arrived in Eforie Nord where another volunteer from my group will be for the next two years, that sand bagging son of a bitch..Literly! The beaches were very nice, with the exception of all the cigarette butts, and the water was very warm with small rolling waves. Not big enough for surfing, which I am sure makes my mom very happy! Luckily, the weather cooperated for the days I was there and I was able to tame down my wicked farmers tan I got working in the fields. My buddy Adam and I chilled at the beach during the days drinking cold Romanian beer for super cheap and snacking on salami, bread and potato chips...they have Lay potato chips over here but they have totally different flavors than the ones in States, such as paprika! Yes, the rumors turned out to be true, a lot of women go topless on the beaches in Europe! However, it is not always a good thing, but it was different that is for sure.

Now I return back to the Village life, which I miss terribly. Always worrying about pick pocketers, cars running over you and how much money you are spending gets old quick. School begins in a couple of weeks and there is a wedding in the village the weekend before school starts! When someone gets married in the village the guest list is automatically 1,000 people (well now 1,001) and they tend to last all night and into the next day...eat, drink, dance...eat drink, drink, dance....drink, drink, eat, dance! Needless to say it should be an experience and I will be dancing whether I want to or not! I really feel at home in the Village now...most everyone knows me by now and I talk to everyone I can as best as I can. They are beginning to realize that I am not just a tourist staying for the summer and they are feeling more comfortable with me.

My parents sent me a package with a Frisbee, Tootsie pops, gummy bears, flour tortillas and a bottle of salsa. While my friend Mary (another volunteer) was visiting we made the family I live with chips and salsa. We just cut the tortilla chips into triangles and fried them in some oil. I can not tell you how much they loved them, we made two batches and they eat them all up. They could not really understand what salsa was but they sure did love it! As for the Tootsie pops and gummy bears, I think every kid in the village swung by the house to get some candy from America, even a few grandma's stoped by to see what all the hype was about...word travels very fast in the village! I wish I had a camera out for every ones reaction when they bite down on the Tootsie pops for the first time and found the Tootsie roll center, it was truly priceless! The kids loved Frisbee and now they want to play it every night, after soccer of course. Who knows, maybe I will start the first ultimate frisbee team ever in Romania!

The purple and yellow plums from the endless number of trees in the fields have been taking priority over the nectarines and peaches as of late. All the apple trees are getting a little heavy but they are still a bit too sour, give them a month and they should be perfect...all this according to the grandma in the family and I defiantly believe her! I think I have eaten the family out of pickles for this summer...they are so damn good I can't stop when I start. They just sit back and laugh, never thinking something so simple as pickles would be my favorite...its all about the little things in life!

Hope everyone is having fun with their life and all that comes with it...Keep Smiling!

I am now in my Village, officially here for one week. In this time I have worked the fields, making feeding posts for the animals and painting a fence! Life here is much much different than anything I have ever been used to. There is no such thing as a watch or a clock, just when the sunrises and when the sunsets. During that time you must make the most of it to get all of your work done otherwise you work in the dark. The roosters wake me up every morning at sunrise then moma cow really wakes me up at 8 am. I do not have internet access yet at my house but the mayor keeps promising me it is on the way! Right now I am in the mayors office using his computer and he has no problem letting me use it but it would be easier to get it at my house. No one here expects me to help them in the fields or paint fences but in reality there is not much else to do and I have enjoyed my time working with the people. Because I am American they dont think of me as a worker and every 5 min they ask if I am ok or need a break...I just smile and laugh and keep working. I have become fluent in the workings of a pitch fork and one day I hope they will trust me with an ax but as for now grandma wont let me use it! I go on a lot of hikes in the hills and to neighboring villages and the people I have met are wonderful and friendly. None of them can understand why I would ever leave the States for Romania to not make any money but at the same time I think they respect it and me for it, especially when they see me walking the streets with a pitch fork over my shoulder coming back from the fields! There is one small store in the village that has all of the essentials, beer, chocolate, chips, bread and Cognac! For anything else I have to travel to other villages or cities which is not always that easy to get rides. Thus my legs are getting strong and my waist line thin but it is a great way to practice my Romanian. I do not speak english at all unless I run into a French tourist who speaks a bit or sending text messages to some of the other Peace Corps volunteers, needless to say my Romanian is getting pretty DAMN good! I wont lie, it does get a bit lonely here all by myself, but then I go for a walk and get invited into every persons home for a shot of horlinka...moonshine brandy that is at least 120 proof and considered good for the digestive system and some bean soup and sarmarle, cabbage rolls! It is impossible for your perspective on life not to change living with these people, working hand in hand and communicating in their native language...I have only been here a week and it has already begun to happen! Such a simple lifestyle...family, hard work, church and laughs aka horlinka!

La Multi Ani...

My 10 weeks in Ploeisti, Romania and training are coming to a rapid end! As long as I passed my language exam today, which was a 30 min. conversation all in Romanian, I will be leaving for my village on Sunday and will be there for the next two years. Friday will be a swear-in ceremony where I will become an official Peace Corps Volunteer. The US Ambassador to Romania will be the person who swears us in, so that is pretty cool. Life has been very good here in Romania, although it has been extremely hot! It has been in the low to mid 100's everyday for the last week and half, and obviously air conditioning is not at all common in homes here. There have been a lot of heat related deaths all through out Romania and the Government has placed the south of Romania on a "code red" alert, I am not to sure what that really means but it is pretty serious, especially for the elderly and young baby's. So needless to say, I am even more excited to make the 14 hour trip north to my village and hopefully to some cooler temps. One part of my Peace Corps experience is coming to an end and a new one is just getting ready to begin! I hope to have Internet access at my house in the village, however I am not certain when that will happen so I may be out of contact for a while, but please continue with all of the great emails, I will get them eventually and I love hearing how everyone is doing back in the States!

"Keep Smiling..."