"Be the person God meant for you to be and you will set the world on fire"-St. Catherine of Siena (Best quote from the Royal Wedding said by the Archbishop of Canterbury in his address to the newlyweds The Duke and Duchess of Cambridge and the congregation at Westminster Abbey)
Setting the world on fire isn't the easiest thing to do. Oftentimes things get in the way such as life's inconveniences and tragedies alike. But we try and try again despite the energy that it takes to do battle and the hope which sometimes gets lost amid the darkness of the day's events. As our world goes on around us, we can either choose to let it come crashing down and suffocate us or we can be strong and lift ourselves above what is happening to create a light on earth that can be seen by everyone else. This month, we celebrate a new beginning, another triumphant time of the resurrection, another look into our God-given souls for the love and the trust to begin again, somehow saved from all that would try to extinguish our flames. On Easter, the celebratory candles continue to provide a guiding light into the way in which many of us pursue our heretofore unrevealed destinies. I feature the photo of these lilies which I'd picked on Easter Sunday from a hill in Transylvania as a symbol, as was with the marriage bouquet of Kate Middleton, a commoner no more, in order to remind myself of all that can be accomplished, and all which should be remembered at this Easter season. We are all uncommon, really, and in that regard, all have the potential to bring to the world our own unique brand of light. Our individual impact is important and essential and when we look into the eyes of others, we can choose to deny that or choose to embrace it as we embrace the air in our lungs. The folkloric meaning of these lilies is as follows: It is said to be symbolic of a return to happiness, a purity of heart, a sweetness, the representation of the tears of the Virgin Mary, a completeness, and love's good fortune. The legend of the lily of the valley is that it sprang from Eve's tears when she was banished from the Garden of Eden. Known as the flower of the month of May, it is also believed to be a protector for gardens and living things. On Easter and in the days and years that will always follow, we can have joy in our hearts for what God has given to us and make the most of what we have to bring a spirit and a gift of ourselves to others. As a Peace Corps volunteer, that's an easy task. We are given the stage to open the minds of our neighbors and those of ourselves to the differences, the similarities and the wonders that exist far away from the confines and the comfort of what is familiar. We are able to open doors and make strides toward that person that God means for us to be. As Peace Corps family together we go into the future never to be the same again and we can know that we burn bright and have much to be grateful for. Over the next year after checking in for a bit in the US, I'll also be trying to set the world on fire, with God's help, as I'll now have the privilege to serve as a Peace Corps volunteer once again for an extension of my tour here in Romania. And when Eastertime rolls around again, next spring in my Romanian-Hungarian town, I'll have more to be thankful for, to be proud of, to learn about, and to share with my friends and family around the globe-God willing. 
Please login first to post comments.
"50"
You, my friend, Are fifty. Old enough to: Speak your mind Abandon convention Decide for yourself Surprise the heck out of them Welcome your spirit Be a kid when you want Worship the sun Nurture free time Travel the world Relish alone time Feel like a woman Grab the brass ring Enjoy being alive Kick up a storm Master singing and dancing And wish upon a star To follow who you are At fifty. 
Here I am, 19 months and 11 days since embarking on a journey in the U.S. Peace Corps which has taken me from East to West Romania traveling throughout this country of contrasts, all the while making a conscious effort to share the experience with audiences near and far. It's difficult sometimes to try to express the emotions which come with being in this position. On any given day, I have short and long conversations with people who may or may not remain in my life. Whether it be in Romanian (which most times it is) or in English peppered with Hungarian (a more frequent occurence these days here in Transylvania), I've gotten used to the nature of my existence and every day go to bed with an attitude of thankfulness waking up with the knowledge and the responsibility of what it means to be a Peace Corps volunteer. Many have asked me why I do what I do. They've gotten an earful of my President Kennedy commitment, the insight into how this mission has affected my choices along the way, and a sense of one person's European-American globally grounded outlook with a large dose of personal belief that open and honest extensions of friendship will inevitably change the way we all may view our own corner of the world. I've visited families, taught hundreds of children, seen spectacular architecture, worshiped in historic churches, braved the winters I'd left behind in New England long ago, learned about things I've never expected, and made the most of every minute s a volunteer abroad. Now, well into year-two of my service, I've had a hard time realizing that my birthplace still exists and that one day, certainly, I will tell these stories of Romania and all its people whom I've come to know from across the miles instead. It's not a day which I look forward to, although I miss my friends and family who've been beside me in spirit all the way. I think about how I can inspire others who might wish to take a similar journey Surely there will be years...the rest of my life...to retell, relate, and renew the times of this life which are already seeming too brief. Those times which are a part of me now, the present, which will someday migrate to the past, and which will become the fabric in the veritable quilt of these years spent overseas. All the words in the English language cannot do enough to describe sufficiently the who, what, when, where and how of the life I've had here in Romania. There are days which I feel as if I've always been here, and other days when I catch the edge of the sun going down and with it a glimpse off the life I once had in South Carolina. Neither is it a life without meaning nor is it without gratitude. Either in the United States or in Romania, I have been blessed (it's only the way I see it) with great memories, cursed by situations out of my control, and gifted with a fresh outlook while being touched by visions of my own Eastern European ancestry on my mother's side through present-day traditions still being performed diligently and religiously here in this country. The first part of my service began in training, then it brought me to Moldavia and ultimately here into the Transylvanian heartland. Romania has had its surprises and I've been changed forever by them. Even in the moments when there have been hardships, there has never been a time when I've allowed those negative circumstances to deter me from what I believe to be the most important work of my life. I've had to say heartbreaking goodbyes, back in the U.S. because of death or distance, and here in-country as well. But either here or there, because we are human, our brains dictate that we feel both pleasure and pain sometimes unexpected and undeserved, but in all ways valuable to who and what we will become. Until that day when we take our last breath, we can choose to be vulnerable to all of it, or not. I've chosen this path to be that willing subject of life's never-ending roller coaster of joy and disappointment, effort and effortlessness, work and rest, comfort and discomfort, conformity and enormity, love and loss, success, promises broken, challenges and change. My Peace Corps life has been that every step of the way. And now that 2010 has come to a close, I can safely say that "ringing in the new" in 2011 was just as exciting as it was on the brink of 2010. Then as now, I see the hope and the realization of yet some more dreams made possible by those simple words said almost 50 years ago. From far away along the airwaves and into a black and white television set to a modest home back in Providence, Rhode Island, the voice had sincerely asked what we could do for our country and now all these years later, the Peace Corps has answered time and time again. Now, I can leave behind "auld aquaintances", yet still keep them close, taking another few steps each day and another giant leap of faith into this next year and beyond without abandoning the old or the dear or the familiar. Here's to 2010: Romania days to remember---for its friendships, its celebrations, its enlightenments, and always and forever, its praises---as a Peace Corps life in living color. La Multi Ani!
It’s like this…you sign on for the Peace Corps after studying, working, living and breathing the fresh air whenever you can and maybe forty-five years later you get the chance to make your mark and soak it all in. For the past year, living peacefully by a large, untamed river in the middle of the Moldavian countryside had its perks. Cool feelings on a hot day, melodious sounds of the water as it traversed the rocky bottom on it’s way down from the mountain overlook, icy beauty nestled within the cotton-white pillows on the tall trees on the most frigid of snow days, the occasional dip or wade when the urge prevailed and once in a while a relaxing afternoon either fishing for a mini-snack or just sitting on the grassy bank writing poetry or recording a journal entry for posterity, just as I am doing now.
Then the flood came. On the last week of June, when the garden I’d lovingly planted was in full swing, along with the dream routine of teaching, learning, exchanging culture, partaking in favorite pastimes like photography, writing, drawing, painting, visiting and cooking with and without formal classes for the kids, the River Trotus had its say and washed all that away. I was obliged to move housing and thus was on the road for an early vacation of sorts away from the village and its people whom I’d come to know and love. I’d planned to be away a week at a time to explore other parts of delightful Romania and then make my way back in the interim weeks to tend the garden, teach the International Cooking with English class I’d begun last summer and generally have some rest and relaxation fit for a queen after a busy year of classes and various other activities in the community. That was not an option now and so I took the two overstuffed bags I’d packed in hand and was off to hope for the best while I was away. The bulk of my belongings stayed behind in the schoolroom that the mayor provided and so I just needed a miracle to find another place to live as not to scrap all that I’d accomplished this first year in Peace Corps. It was hard not to feel disheartened by all of this. Most of my neighbors had no running water or heat other than wood stoves and they certainly didn’t have much extra room for a volunteer, only a bit of space for their family members. I trusted my instincts and waited it out to see if something would materialize to afford me the minimal requirements to stay for the second year and not change course midstream. As luck would have it, after weeks-seven exactly-a family came forward, parents of one of my students, and offered me a room in a quiet nook on the hillside overlooking a much smaller river with the sounds of a barnyard echoing through each day. They kindly welcomed me into their fold and now I can breathe a little easier knowing that I will be able to stay here and not re-acquaint myself with others in another place and leave the friends and children whom I’ve come to cherish as my home away from home. It will take a bit of time to organize and restart the projects which I’d had going all year, but with the support of others, my faith in God, and the patience I’ve acquired along the way, I think that in a few weeks, all should be back to normal. Many people tried to dissuade me during my summer odyssey. My concerned family, loving friends back home in Charleston, the staff members who thought that it might be easier for me to reintegrate into another village as there were many villages without the luxury of an American volunteer this year, and fellow “Peace Corps-ans” who thought that I’d be better off not going through the waiting and wondering as it created more stress than I’d bargained for. I listened, I ruminated, I prayed and then I stood fast. I just knew that if I’d have bailed out, the hole in my heart over unexpectedly and unwillingly abandoning my classrooms, along with all the long walks, conversations and happy times with the people in my village, well, it would be too big. I wanted no regrets and if it happened that there was no housing, then I’ would cross that bridge. Luckily and by the grace of God, I am with bed, bright window, space enough to store my things, and a shared bath and kitchen. The family is kind, generous, happy and looking forward as I am to getting to know each other over the next school year. So what did I do over the past seven weeks? Here’s a rundown of the highlights and lowlights in my Peace Corps road of life in summer, 2010: Moved out of gazda central due to flood on June 26th. First week away I spent in Ghimes with my best friend’s family. Made my way to Miercurea Ciuc for a night then on to Bucharest for five days to decompress and while there visited museums, thought about my future, and tried to plan for anything. Spent a week near Brasov for volunteer camp activities at Ozanku Bai. Stayed in St. George with Hungarian friends two days after that. Left for Ploiesti to see a fellow volunteer, then on to Targoviste to visit with the new volunteer candidates for a few days. Back to Brasov to visit the famous Bran Castle which I’d not yet seen and a nice day in Poiana Brasov, too. I then returned to Ghimes to welcome a newly placed volunteer in a nearby village and then went back to Bucharest for some downtime with Romanian friends. On to Alesd to visit another volunteer before a stint at camp up north and then stayed with new Romanian friends a week in Astileu. A very good visit to Hunedoara and Deva with more volunteer buds and then a four day conference in Sibiu for mid-service training. Back to Astileu and Oradea by way of Arad for more relaxation time and then returned through Alba Iulia with a night in Lunca de Jos to have a bubble bath in a pensione after the long trip home to a new gazda house on the 15th of August. But even before I could settle in for more than a few days, I was off to Ocland for a week of camp volunteering again. After two days back in Brusturoasa, again, as my luck would have it, I was off again to the yearly medical exams in Bucharest. Finally, finally, I got back to stay for a bit longer this time-or so I hope! Here I am now in the old place I’ve grown accustomed to for the past year with familiar people and a new host family. I’m full of hope that it will all get organized and for sure I have a store of new experiences and places that I will remember to share with others when I complete my service. I even took my cooking skills on the road with me and shared with others along the way to sweeten the veritable pot as I remained "semi-homeless" for the better part of this summer. See the article about that part of the trip here at http://www.acum.tv/articol/16625. After hours and days of crowded buses, endless waiting, frustrations, spent energies, long trains, sleepless nights, and even a nasty bump on the head that ultimately led to a concussion, I am done travelling for the moment until the next vacation, one that hopefully won’t include any natural disasters. But such is life. Here or there, lots of things sometimes can rain on your parade, but the sun comes out eventually. So, it wasn't all the "Winter (or summer) of My Discontent", rather it was just a kind of free-wheeling, unpredictable,disconnected, kind of funny, "life on the road" journey that happens now and then when you least expect it. Peace Corps year two: Here I come! 
Dear Readers,
This day marks year one in of my Peace Corps journey and as I sit down to write, I just cannot think of how to express all that has happened. Usually, I am not at a loss for words. And for the past 13 months, writing has been such a big part of the experience here in Romania. Last night, I gave an interview after having written a story to a CNN producer based in London. The day before that, there was the writing of a piece for ACUM TV. Last weekend, there was a narrated slideshow for the In Their Own Words section of Peace Corps' Coverdell World Wise Schools. And on and on, I've written a history of sorts because all of the days are filled with things to share, note, describe, relate, and otherwise record for posterity. During the time that I've been here, I've had so many things change and be changed, both for the worse and for the better. I credit my continuous faith in God for seeing me through each of those. Here in Romania, I've been able to see more of how the people's faith, ritual, spirituality and the teachings of old enriches the lives of so many on a daily basis. I've been present at each and every holiday both as a conscientious observer and as a member of this community. I've seen funerals, baptisms, Christmas and Easter, and various other celebrations and commemorations, all recorded for the camera and all will forever occupy a huge chunk of the annals of my memories. They are fresh reminders each time of why I am here and alive. A saying that I've now learned in Romanian which comes to mind is "Ati gustat cat de bun este Domnul". And speaking of the camera, it's now become my obsession. The children whom I teach will now have lasting looks at their work, their play and their lives during a time when the Peace Corps paid a visit. The parents, the neighbors and friends will also have something to reflect upon when the day comes (if it does at all) for me to leave and continue on the paths that I will eventually be led to. I cannot wait to hear and to see what the futures of all of them might be. And so, by continuing to document everything, it is my sincere hope that these "archives" of a Peace Corps volunteer will be used to refresh the memories of the past of each and every one of them. Ah, the past. Well, many say that is best kept in the past...but I don't believe that. My family, my dear friends back in Charleston and other parts of the world, and the things that have shaped my life all have an impact on what I think, do and feel about being a volunteer here in Eastern Europe. To be a volunteer has always been for me the single most important mission. Without the various hours, days, weeks, and years of volunteering for others, I cannot say that my life would have been filled to the brim. Starting out as a summer camp volunteer, then a hospital volunteer in the NICU, and several years volunteering as a firefighter, I found that time spent working to help (or save) others was a time to both give and receive multiple gifts. Time was not wasted. Time was not lost. Then, as I got older, volunteering for afterschool programs, volunteering for city projects, volunteering for the promotion of art and culture, volunteering for the elderly, the Red Cross Disaster Response Team,and so on, were all ways that changed me, my fellow volunteers, and everyone that we came in contact with...albeit sometimes in small, not yet quite detectable ways. I've made many friends, been a mentor, seriously challenged my limits, learned quite a bit, had such wonderful times, and certainly have been blessed by the faces of those whose lives I have touched as they have touched me. My decision to volunteer and serve in the Peace Corps has been graciously named by others to be courageous, impressive, highly American, dedicated, powerful, awe-inspiring and other things. The people who write to me or speak to me directly each day have credited me with having all of these traits. To them all, I send a big thank you and much love back for their praise, support, understanding and interest in what I am doing here. But now, I give credit to the Romanians, yes, all of them young and old, Peace Corps staff, the citizens of Brusturoasa and neighboring villages and towns where I have new friends, a new and exciting lifestyle, and a look into a window that I never expected to see, and of course, the hundreds of children here who mean so much to the future of Romania, for all that this year has meant for myself, my friends, and family, and anyone else who has read about what goes on in this corner of the world through my blog postings, or any other of the news agencies, newspapers, or websites that have carried these stories of Peace Corps life in "Romanialand". Without them, it would all have been "dust and shadow". I can't wait to be here another year and hope that you will continue on this journey with me whenever you have time to take a look, drop a line, or laugh a little when you see me try to dodge a great big cow or two on the road! (Hey...I just heard one of those cowbells...must mean it's another time again to take the Road Less Travelled...) Peace, Natalie PS: This poetry reading was excerpted from http://scoalacomanesti.blogspot.com/2010/05/poezie-in-limba-engleza.html. 
Dear readers,
Today, I realized that I hadn't posted a new story in two months, and as the schoolteachers in the region held a strike day, there was a free, but jam-packed-with-stuff-to-do day on the agenda and I thought, well, it would be a good time to revisit these pages! Instead of focusing on one particular event, I'd like to go ahead and show you some of the highlights of my busy, but very blessed, life here in Romania Peace Corps. After 11 months in the country, the language comes with everyday ease, the activities are piling up for the record books, and the rewards that come with volunteering are too endless to count. I've been in contact with two soon-to-be volunteer trainees, one from the heart of the midwest, where some of my family lives, and one from my much loved college back in Charleston, SC, who will be coming here to experience some of what Romania has given to me. I am very happy for them and can't wait to meet them face to face to spend time being their own personal tour guide and mentor as the anniversary of my first year here approaches. They ask me all of the time what my "typical" day looks like and things like how much to pack and what do I do in my free time. Well, girls, the answers lie below, and they are anything but typical. As for the packing, it'll drive you crazy until you get here and you realize that not only can you do without most of it because you can eventually get it here, but, except for the most needed personal mementos and essential favorites, it's okay to leave the country and merge straight ahead and not look back. You'll find a new world here and for a time, it will be your only love. And lastly, the free time thing...well, free it's not, unless you don't want to be a living, breathing, and dedicated member of your new community that has a big heart which will be filled by each Romanian personal experience you will have. And now for the news: March came in like a lamb with a beautiful sunny day at church followed by a lovely family dinner with new friends. The sun was shining and the snow still lingered on the mountaintops. I brought home fresh eggs, and milk which they insisted I have, and then spent some time in the barnyard with the new arrivals. During the week, I was gifted by a huge amount of Martisore, those little tokens of love that appear every March 1st until March 8th according to the Romanian holiday calendar. Then, on the tail end of that, International Women's Day brought out the singers and dancers and the flowers that brightened my home here with every color of spring. My amazingly precious granddaughter turned six back in the US and it was more than a bit sad to be so far away, but she loves her Nanny just as much as I love her and so for now, the happiness and the growing on both our parts is shared by old fashioned mail and modern technology. It's not perfect, but when I joined the Peace Corps I had to go with it, like it or not. As the month of March progressed, there were Teatime Conversation classes, one focused on the culture of China as I revisited one of my former teaching destinations, and one fun class with a costumed and balloon festooned book party in the wonderland of Alice. There were some International Cooking with English classes. My favorite, Italian, was a smashing success. In a following class we celebrated the fruitful season by coloring eggs with natural dyes and learning how to make everything from over-easy to omelets. After all that cooking, it was time to take the sled out a bit more, try some skiing before the snow all melted, and climb the muddy mountain behind the house, just because it was there, to pick some of the freshly sprouted ghioceii that perks up when the winter is ready to take a pause. (See photo above!) Next, I went out of town for a weekend to judge a speaker's competition for the ESU, met up with a fellow volunteer, stayed in a nice hotel and had a good rest. In classes, we worked on newsletters, the nuances of expressive poetry, storytelling, and travel writing along with some mutual sharing of holiday traditions at Eastertime. Speaking of Easter, one of the "only in the Peace Corps" experiences was to witness the preparation of the lamb for the religious celebration. I won't describe the details of that here since you can see them in one of my photojournal stories online, but I will say that it was probably one of the most difficult things that I ever will do, however, quite necessary, at least for me, to truly understand and to share with others what the religious tradition here entails. After that, there was a nice long road trip to Dragasani where I met such nice relatives of my gazda and enjoyed another first---Easter dinner outdoors. It was a spiritual week finished off with a huge, traditionally religious commemoration of the dead at our biserica here in the village when we returned. The whole town came out and we brought our delicious table fare outside once again. I've been to birthdays and funerals, seen a lot more sunsets, planted a vegetable and herb garden, enjoyed my home life and my new toys, and heard sweet music while doing it, all in the course of the last two months which seemed to go by like a shooting star. There have been many sunny days, some with my students, others in church services, still others while out exploring on my own, or day tripping out and about in other small towns and villages in the company of my Romanian pals. There was also a nice long week spent in historic Sibiu with old friends and new, again, in the comfort of a shiny hotel, graciously provided by the Peace Corps, and the visits to museums, galleries, the theatre, a bit of shopping, and those much-missed restaurants. At the end of that I sped over to Galati to visit friends again, relaxed, and caught up. Then, on the way back to my village, went to visit two more elementary schools in the countryside who have also applied for a volunteer, and still had plenty of time to reflect on the peacefully long train rides about the days that had passed and those that would soon be---More sightseeing, more invitations, more memories, and more times to value far into the next years. Here, I've had more than enough bonuses to weigh. Life has given me more than I ever expected and on March 28th, I also had the 52nd birthday-to-remember when I received a new clothes dryer (yes, no one has one here in the communa!), a brand new camera (for my ireports on CNN and other venues that I frequent to share photos and film), and many, many other beautiful, generous and amazing presents from friends, students, and family. I cannot thank them all enough for knowing what would make me smile like never before. And that's not all, not only have I easily lost a total of 30 lbs. since leaving the US, but I've never felt better, or more delighted to be alive. Every minute is new, although at times a great responsibility, but still, a wondrously childlike challenge, and filled with unexpected pleasures. I work hard, write a lot(now I have more than a few blogs to contribute to and several sites as well) go out in the fresh air, and try to record what is happening day to day; and in the evenings, I still have a bit of time to keep in touch with family and friends far away. I miss them, I know that they miss me, and someday, we will share a bit of what it's been like for me to finally have a go at my long-wished-for Peace Corps dream. But not now. I have miles to go before I sleep and I am happy to have them here in Romania. Today we had another special lesson, because it is Earth Day, and again, the children, my colleagues and friends, and my village's sights and sounds, opened up a new world for myself and others to see...just in the bit of time it took to recite a poem, sing a song, draw a picture, and then put the whole thing into motion in order to make a lasting impression. Ninety minutes that would be worth so much more to them in the future. And to me. You might enjoy a sprinkling of the highlights I just mentioned, and quite a few more, if you visit the links on this blog page. Until the next time... Drum Bun, Te Pupe, and Hristos Inviat! 
February is in the air and the season of Iarna is now in full. Apparently, it snows here most every day in the mountains and it's truly a sight to behold. Skiing, sledding, skating, wondering, gawking, and letting the wet, cold, glistening drops of white prisms kiss your face without regard to catching a sniffle, well, I cannot tell you how much my opinion of the weather has changed since moving to Romania. All is a new adventure and many things(although either difficult or frightening for someone who had long ago abandoned the winter sports arena)are welcomed with open arms and kid-like snowsuits coupled with funny hats and a collection of boots to be proud of. The other day I even walked on the frozen river Trotus---even though a man of the cloth here and truly great friend said, "No, no, I am worried for you. That's dangerous!"---Jesus' trek notwithstanding, as I had once imagined, this was to be the start of a whole new way of life.
Visible to me everywhere now is a show of God's presence and each and every thing that happens here is a blessing as I celebrate the milestone of six months at site here in Romania as an official Peace Corps volunteer. In Brusturoasa and its communities, I have much to remember as evidenced by the thousands of photos and video clips taken here that have gummed up the flash drives and cds for the umpteenth time this year. Although it seems like only yesterday, these past nine months in country have been chock full of unique experiences. In these experiences, documented by the photos, websites, and other avenues of third goal sharing which I utilize, there are some revelations that have become apparent during my service which I will pass along to you: Purpose-After yearning for the knowledge of the purpose of my days, the Peace Corps has fulfilled that promise. Volunteering-It is my middle name. Money-Or lack thereof. Well, that's always an issue for everyone, but rewards, they are written in the faces of every child and new person that I spend time with. Comfort-It's relative. Scratchy waffle-weave sheets to sleep on, occasional mice and angry dogs, on and off heat, hot water, and internet service, favorite places to go and things to do that aren't here, usual foods that are unavailable, long treks for short purposes, post office woes, washing laundry in a bucket for sometimes days of line drying, mud up to your shins, being too busy (or too tired) to wash your hair today, pens that never work even though you just bought them (my own personal pet peeve!), and buses that never run on time-are all relatively easy to dismiss when you know that there are other valuable things to consider about the arrangement. Pushing the envelope-It's okay to do, again and again. These are things that are totally justifiable. Even if others not in "PeaceCorpsland" say that is too bold, too crazy, not been done before, or otherwise not in their own vocabulary. Not, not, not...that particular word is NOT in my vocabulary! Language is universal-After many years of language study, it has become clear that I don't love speaking English as much as I love learning to communicate in other languages as if it were live theater, with words, gestures, and expressions. You had to be there the day I held a dissertation on the supreme difference between spaghetti and macaroni and how I didn't want the spaghetti but as it was wrapped in the facade of the "Macarone" company name, the magazin owner thought otherwise. Consequently, my 3rd and 4th graders this week during the lesson on the value of the food pyramid and its benefits heard all about how to distinguish the distinguished pasta family. Being Italian, I know that my grandma wouldn't have had it any other way. Patience-Mine, that is, is tested and reaffirmed every day that I must say, "stai liniste, merge pe scaunul immediat, niciodata nu razboi in clasa mea, serios? scrieti in limba Engleza, va rog, or de ce nu fac tema," etc., etc., etc. Feed your mind-Whether I've wanted to manage a huge assignment or to climb a steep hill (literally) by having a strong mind, a good conscience, and the confidence to move up and accomplish a lot is the only way. And diet...all I can say is skip the slanina with the tuica chasers if you aspire to live to be 100. Memories-Are those that tug at you and nurture you, take from you and give to you, but all are valuable lessons learned and priceless treasures which sustain the moments here without any familiarity from the old life. Spirituality-And the wholeness of what it means to be alive sings to me in every moment that I spend in Romania. Having the opportunity to also share in the traditions of the old world either outside in the pastures, inside the walls of a stunning Orthodox biserica, at the table of a neighbor, or travelling with new friends, just makes it that much sweeter. Disorganization-Better get used to that. Whether someone makes plans for you and changes them yet again, or you just can't finish all the things that you have on the agenda, or you just plain forget things all the time. Like today, when I forgot my camera and so missed out on a huge (at least 1/3 ton) spotted pig escaping his farmyard happily crossing the river over the rickety slat bridge oblivious to my presence, or the convergence of three, yes, three confused horse-drawn carute each loaded up with about an 8 x 10 foot mass rectangle of hay under the train bridge all at the same time as the passenger train went overhead. Once in a lifetime- It's kind funny how easily we all miss the things right under our noses. TAKE YOUR CAMERA! 
A few weeks ago, I was shopping for a few small trinkets to dress up my room for the first Christmas holiday here in Romania that I would spend without the people that I love. I came across an electric light, in golden cardboard paper, made in China in the shape of a 3 dimensional star for the low, low price of what amounted to less than 4 US dollars. Taking it back to the house with the rest of the little items that I could afford and some candy for good company, I assembled the it, hung it on the door next to my bed in my Peace Corps "hut", and proceeded to go about my day. Praying for some miraculous event was not a priority. I did not know it yet, but there were wonderful things about to happen.
Miracles, some say, do not exist. They do not live in the practical world, the world of actuality, the world of secular sanity. Some even say that folks who believe in them are doomed to fail and to be forever lost in a world of fantasy beliefs. I say bunk. I say---You haven’t spent the holidays living among the people in the countryside of Romania. Beginning with Christmas Eve, I would have surprise after surprise, blessing after blessing, and feelings that I thought were lost, were again found, time and time again. In small doses, rapidly and with the energetic spark of light that shone each night beside my bed from that star lantern which I hung for luck. At first I thought, no. The world has offered me people who are cold and narrow-minded. I have seen and heard things that are too ugly to absorb. I have encountered those whose misplaced ego, greed and lack of true compassion deadens my senses. I have known those who do not have conscience about the shame that bring down on themselves and others by their actions. I have a sickness in my heart that will never die for the way that others misuse the trust and love given to them as a powerful vehicle for a means to a wholly personal and selfish end. For some, disrespect and disloyalty are the only comforts they will ever know. In them, there are no gifts. But now, I have learned that here, in this place, there are moments every day filled with the capacity of love that I might never have known if I had not lived it. Christmastime brought a host of wonderfully ancient traditions, most of which included the talent, goodness, and loving smiles of the children whom I teach here. On occasion after occasion, during the entire week, I was met with evidence that, yes, love exists. Not the kind of love that is spoken without true devotion, but the kind which you can keep close to you, without fear, without reservation. The kind that has meaning and unfathomable generosity. The kind that nurtures your soul. All of the moments, from Christmas Eve to New Year’s Day have been memorable, surpassed by none ever in my life, and are sure to be forever burned into my heart. Just when I thought that the surprises were over, more came and in droves. Today was Epiphany, and I walked as I normally do each Wednesday, to one of the village schools here, as the snow fell and the river flowed nearby. The mountains kept the cold from biting too much and they held on to the winding lean-to sun-bleached fences with their tattooed faces from visits many and often by the woodpeckers in residence. There were bird songs, cow ballads, sheep salutations, and turkey calls along the way and as I made my trek up the hill, I looked forward to seeing the third and fourth graders who I knew were waiting for me. In class, I was given a slew of hand-made Christmas cards and then we all sang in a circle as I had asked the children to teach me a few new songs. From carols to the Romanian national anthem we sang, the children laughed, I felt speechless, and we held hands. The morning was sunny and excitement filled the air inside our classroom. Recess came and we went outdoors. I watched the boys and girls sliding down the hillside and running and laughing up a storm. Next, a snack, utter chaos, and then I read them a story. The children reread the story aloud one by one and then crowded around as it was time for us to go. I was on my way to the Orthodox biserica back in my village for the Epiphany service and the children asked if I could go with them to the church there. At first I declined and said that I needed to get back to the church in the center of the communa, but after I debated for a few minutes, I then decided to go with them rather than making the walk back alone. The uproar was enormous. All of the children grabbed their coats and rushed me out the door and down the road to the church at the top of the hill. There were over thirty of us, along with the first and second graders, and on the way, we met some cows, took photos of the goats and the scenery we encountered, spoke to some of the villagers, then entered the church together. The little ones huddled around and the service was beautiful. There was a gorgeously decorated tree with tinsel, bells, candy, hearts, and glittering ornaments made by the children in the transept and the candles were lit to illuminate the silver icons and the frescoes of biblical scenes above and aside of us. We knelt together, the chalice was brought out to kiss our heads, the children came and went like little butterflies ( first next to me, then behind me, then in front of me at times, and after many reflections, a large brass lantern with candles hung from the ceiling and was raised and lowered again. Then, making our way toward the front together, we each received the holy bread from the preot, wrapping it in the colorful paper cut from the daily news pages that was passed around by the parishioners in front of us. After that, we all went outdoors where a beautiful cross made of ice was dressed with flowers and all around it were candles and buckets of water holding dried herbs on three tables making an altar. The children and many others, including myself, lit all of the candles for some minutes as the townspeople waited for the rest of the service to start. The floor of the snow-covered ground was dressed with a huge mass of dried hay as the preot continued this Epiphany service outdoors under the tall and glistening white mountains. I watched, grateful, as the sun shone on the church’s tin spires, and the snow came down in cool, soft pellets. During the readings, there were five men who each shot off rifles or shotguns one at a time into the air as the crowd, many of them old ones, looked on from this circle. The readings ended and we all took with us a bottle of the water from the buckets that had been blessed along with a handful of that hay. Afterwards, inside the church, the children all got a package filled with candies and gloves and other things and I was invited to enjoy a glass of hot wine and conversation along with the preot, the mayor and his group of friends. It is not customary in the Orthodox church for women to discuss and socialize with men here on the right side of the church, but as I am the visitor, the teacher, the Peace Corps volunteer in resident, the person, the woman, who people have come to know, I was asked to stay. It was a time for me to reflect upon the day and the goodness of the people who have invited me here. They all continue to be the solace and the strength that I need to go on every day. In the end, the walk was clear and refreshing. I had bared my feelings once again to God and to others. I was renewed and grateful for this day, grateful for the times that I continued to have these past weeks. The Christmas tree, the carolers, the bear parades, the bands, the dinners, the gifts, the lights, the rituals, the snow, the sledding, the talking, the hand-holding, the love. And despite not being able to share all of it with anyone from my other life who truly knows me, I could now relish the meaning of beauty of it all. Although, the tremendous things and the simple beauty which I see every day does not fully erase those things which taint and sour it underneath, it is livable and it is a gift. Tonight I once again thought to myself not only about these holidays, but about all that had happened over the past year. I checked the sprig of basil that was placed under my pillow four nights ago by the preot (just to make sure it was still there) who by tradition at this time came to bless my living quarters on Saturday. And then I turned on the star next to my bed. I have decided that it will be a kind of symbol of my good fortune here. And so, I will leave it up, at least for a while. Lastly, I pray every day for miracles. I pray each night for the people in my life who I wish could see what I see. I pray for them to see what they refuse to see. I pray for those whose lives are closed and not open to the wonders of all things. And at the end of the day, I pray that I will live a life that is good and long so that I may return home to tell about these moments of joy in Romania. 
It is my pleasure to be here in this place and to share these times as a Peace Corps volunteer with the Romanian people in Brusturoasa and its surrounding communities. It has been the single most wonderful holiday experience I have ever had. And it couldn’t have come at a better time. Being away from home is harder than I imagined, but life and God (and Santa, too) always seem to bring the gifts that you need the most when you least expect them. Wish you were here. I hope you will enjoy the photos and video at www.photobucket.com and my Facebook page.
By the way, our bear “costumes” here in the village as you can see were actual bear skins-paws, teeth and all. Any taxidermist would be proud. The entire event was a unique combination of an “Ancient and Horribles” parade, majestic rodeo-style equine processions, old-fashioned European spirited holiday cabaret chorals in traditional hand-made Romanian dress, hilarious comical renderings with cowbells, flutes, drums and horns along with history-relating theatrical ditties reminiscent of Shakespearean lore both by children and adults. All of it ending off three hours later with American-Indian-like rain dances in the dark accompanied by a Fourth of July fireworks finale above enough to shed light on the snow-covered mountains turning red, blue, and yellow as faces in the crowd watched in amazement. We all walked to our homes together following the procession as it trailed away from a huge mass gathering to variously sized groups of friends, neighbors, and happy children saying goodnight and praising the talents and efforts of all who performed. You really haven’t lived until you’ve parade with the bears---Fabulously Frenetic!! The following is a portion of an article regarding Romanian Christmas traditions, including the steaua, colinde, and the bear and comics parades, which occur during the holidays here and some most unique to the region of Moldova. The original post can be found at http://www.bucurestiwww.ro The Village Way: Romanian Christmas traditions are based around the idea of time, explains Ion Blajan, head of collections at the Peasant Museum (Muzeul Taranului Roman): the traditional tales and celebrations are based on a 12-day period in which life goes through a chaotic period then starts afresh in the New Year. The practices that surround these traditions are now mostly seen in Northern Romania, around Bucovina and Suceava, and especially in Campulung Moldovenesc. Blajan explains the stories behind them: Romanians believe there is a period of chaos, where the world is broken and anything is possible; dead souls can come back to the earth, and we can communicate between our two worlds, the underworld and the sky. All this is reflected in dancing and songs and parades, and there is no regard for anything serious while it’s going on. Sounds just like a New Year's Eve in London to me! On the last day, when all the celebrations finish, people beat the bushes where they believe dead souls are hiding. They believe the souls must go back to their world or else they’ll threaten people on earth. It may sound like something your mother warned you away from, but the result is a wonderfully creative expression of tradition, with children in amazing costumes, so cleverly constructed and imaginative they could well be on a theatre stage, accompanied by sweet-sounding songs as well as miming and parades. Blajan continues: After the chaos, Christ is born, and from the chaos is born a new world. Children go around with a star and sing songs about the birth of Jesus Christ. Specific activities happen on each of the 12 days, says Blajan: On Christmas Eve the day is very short, and it was thought the sun would die, so a fire is lit on a wheel, which looks like the sun, to help the sun rise again, because without the sun the world would die. On New Year's Eve there are parades in the villages with bands and everyone wears costumes and masks. There are bride and groom masks, which symbolise a new life, and masks of old men and women which represent the old year. Some children dress up as bears – in the past real bears on leashes were led by gypsies in parades, but now sheep or bear skin costumes are used. Often the parade features goats, horses, deer and other animals pulled along on wheels as part of the parade with the band and the rest of the characters in the masks. Then on the last day, January 7th, children go to each house and sing songs about the baptism of St John. *WISHING ALL OF YOU BOTH NEAR AND FAR THE MOST BLESSED OF HOLIDAY SEASONS! 
I haven’t written anything all month save the occasional comment on Facebook. Even my journal has suffered my absence for many weeks now as I cannot bear to write the words that ring in my head. It has been a trying time in that I have yet to digest the supreme loss of my best friend to cancer back home and still, I am here in Romania, giving it the daily all, wondering if my service will in fact be the capstone of my life.
Today marks the first three months at my site and it was and still is not without pain and much sacrifice. It is true that the changes that one submits to here in the initial service period are daunting, unpredictable, and never understood by those who have seemed to know you best back home. I hope that in looking back, it will have all been worth it. Some things are out of a person’s reach and scope of understanding. There are things that I will never understand. These things that take you to the depths of despair and to the pinnacles of brightness are all so much a part of it. And I have found that although you may have a heart of gold and the best of hopes and efforts, there are always many and unexpected events and disappointments around the bend. However, the people here, both young and old, have continued to give me innumerable blessings, some more than I ever dreamed of and those which surpass even the gestures of my closest relationships back in the US---although to them (my Romanian neighbors) I am essentially a stranger in a strange land. The work is gratifying and challenging at the same time. My community is full of people who are open, caring and capable of cultural exchange without fear. I am glad that I was chosen to be here in Brusturoasa. Now, life is very full of commitments. Places to be, people to see, things to do which fill my calendar and my days. There are tutoring sessions both for myself and others in English, games and activities with the children, family time at the gazda compound, chores, correspondence, teaching at three schools, cooking lessons, providing technology assistance, participating in community activities, and socializing to blend who I am (or who I was) into the landscape. All this while still living, breathing, trying to sleep, wash, eat, and generally being---something which most times came easily back in the US. Here, it is not so easy, as it is like living in the skin of another. For many days and nights, I have carried a burden of guilt for leaving my home and everyone there. And for many days and nights, I have shed real tears to call to God on what he has planned for me and why this and why now. The answer has yet to be revealed and so I wait, hope and awake to another day, every day although it is full of trials…emotional ones…ones that pull at you to stand tall, stand firm, and stand alone yet equal and involved with everyone here and everyone there. I have had very many memorable and touching moments, too. For those, I have taken photos, drawn pictures, and recorded video so that someday, if not too far away, I will look back with my grandchild and the rest of my loved ones and be able to make sense of it all, appreciating the losses that have come and respecting myself for enduring it. If you are curious at all as to one person’s life as a PCV in the first three months of service, in a small town in the Eastern Carpathian mountains of an old-world country, then look to these photos of some of the times of my life, here at www.photobucket.com/knowenglishnow. For the other moments---like when my sixth grade and I sang "Heal the World" together to Michael Jackson, and the morning the fourth graders cheered when they learned I had arrived at their school for the day's lesson, and the feelings that I get when all the old ladies who want to chat with me appear on my way to and fro, and how nice it is that all the men say "Sarut mana/I kiss your hand" as I walk by, and what happens to me when I see all the unfathomable smiles and the complexity of thoughts that run deep and clear in the eyes of each of the children here---for all those things and more, I cannot share them with you, although I wish I could. In closing, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I will admit that yes, I know that I cannot by myself “Heal the World”, but surely, with effort and with honest love, I can, “Make it a Better Place.” The saints I know up in Heaven tell me so. 
I haven’t written anything all month save the occasional comment on Facebook. Even my journal has suffered my absence for many weeks now as I cannot bear to write the words that ring in my head. It has been a trying time in that I have yet to digest the supreme loss of my best friend to cancer back home and still, I am here in Romania, giving it the daily all, wondering if my service will in fact be the capstone of my life.
Today marks the first three months at my site and it was and still is not without pain and much sacrifice. It is true that the changes that one submits to here in the initial service period are daunting, unpredictable, and never understood by those who have seemed to know you best back home. I hope that in looking back, it will have all been worth it. Some things are out of a person’s reach and scope of understanding. There are things that I will never understand. These things that take you to the depths of despair and to the pinnacles of brightness are all so much a part of it. And I have found that although you may have a heart of gold and the best of hopes and efforts, there are always many and unexpected events and disappointments around the bend. However, the people here, both young and old, have continued to give me innumerable blessings, some more than I ever dreamed of and those which surpass even the gestures of my closest relationships back in the US---although to them (my Romanian neighbors) I am essentially a stranger in a strange land. The work is gratifying and challenging at the same time. My community is full of people who are open, caring and capable of cultural exchange without fear. I am glad that I was chosen to be here in Brusturoasa. I have memories that will last forever. Like the time my sixth grade class and I sang "Heal the World" together along to Michael Jackson, and when my fourth graders all cheered from the other room when I arrived at their school for the day's class. And how every old lady wants to chat on my walk about this and that, and every old man says, "Sarut mana"/"I kiss your hand" as I go by, and the children both in school and out give homemade presents,wondering if not profound glances, and unfathomable smiles to me every day. As I go through my time here, more and more it is a joy and a curse. It will be my past one day and that is hard to bear. Now, however, life is very full of commitments. Places to be, people to see, things to do which fill my calendar and my days. There are tutoring sessions both for myself and others in English, games and activities with the children, family time at the gazda compound, chores, correspondence, teaching at three schools, cooking lessons, providing technology assistance, participating in community activities, and socializing to blend who I am (or who I was) into the landscape. All this while still living, breathing, trying to sleep, wash, eat, and generally being---something which most times came easily back in the US. Here, it is not so easy, as it is like living in the skin of another. For many days and nights, I have carried a burden of guilt for leaving my home and everyone there. And for many days and nights, I have shed real tears to call to God on what he has planned for me and why this and why now. The answer has yet to be revealed and so I wait, hope and awake to another day, every day although it is full of trials…emotional ones…ones that pull at you to stand tall, stand firm, and stand alone yet equal and involved with everyone here and everyone there. I have had very many memorable and touching moments, too. For those, I have taken photos, drawn pictures, and recorded video so that someday, if not too far away, I will look back with my grandchild and the rest of my loved ones and be able to make sense of it all, appreciating the losses that have come and respecting myself for enduring it. If you are curious at all as to one person’s life as a PCV in the first three months of service in a small town, in the Eastern Carpathian mountains, of an old-world country, then look to these photos of some of the times of my life here at www.photobucket.com/knowenglishnow. In closing, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I will admit that yes, I know that I cannot by myself “Heal the World”, but surely, with effort and with honest love, I can, “Make it a Better Place.” The saints I know up in Heaven tell me so.
You can spend your whole life working, playing, planning, travelling, studying, wondering, winning, losing, and oftentimes knowing everything and nothing at all. Or you can join the Peace Corps.
Here I am, in Brusturoasa, Romania, in the heart of Moldavia, thousands of miles away from my home in Charleston, South Carolina, USA. It's been over forty years since I heard the call to action of President Kennedy and a lifetime of memories that I've collected. I imagined many times what life in the Peace Corps might be. First set in a jungle, then the desert, a tent city, a wattle and daub hut, a houseboat, a high-rise. I imagined muddy water, no water, and cold water from an old well a five-mile hike too far. I imagined dark forests, sandstorms, isolation, crowded trains, and dirty bathrooms. I imagined that I would be eating insects and raw fish, riding camels, living in fear of hidden bears and poisonous snakes and living in wonder of stately elk and gliding eagles. I imagined sleeping on a hard straw bed, having little food or heat, and being lost in the wilderness. I imagined having no electricity to read, no phone to communicate with my loved ones far away, and nothing but blank stares from the crowd of onlookers curiously eyeing my presence there. Now, after four months in country and one month here in my village, I am experiencing none of this and all of it. The feelings have ebbed and flowed, peaked and sunk, and are those that mirror the ones in my dreams long ago. Yes, I have been cold, anxious, entertained, awestruck, calm, satisfied, challenged, overjoyed, deeply honored, exasperated, cautious, hungry, lonely, content, empowered, heartbroken, and inspired. Every day has been a journey of change after change, many days in minute by minute increments. Seeing the world for the first time again and doing the same for others in my company. Learning new things, revisiting the old, utilizing resourcefulness gained from years of experience. Having the courage and conviction to live every second to the fullest and remaining committed to the belief that goodness is out there and is mine for the asking. It has been a truly personal mission, one that has taken me to the highest of heights and the lowest of lows. Taking the oath of service, speaking yet another daughter language of Latin, managing daily chores without amenities now commonplace in the US, learning to navigate new areas with and without transportation, making time go further, trying to find private moments alone to reflect, actively being a part of the community, learning to live with sometimes as much as six new people at once, eating things I absolutely don't want to, sharing in nature everyday, being unable to properly grieve while losing my best friend across the ocean to cancer, walking the funeral procession for a child killed in a tragic accident here, receiving heartwarming mail from friends, being able to hold on to my primary relationship back home without fearing too much, reaching hundreds of children and helping them to believe in their future, and so on. The list is long and interesting. I cannot fully express the details of how much I have been changed for the better by taking the leap of faith and coming to Romania as a Peace Corps volunteer. I realize that I have not done any of this alone and have thanks for all who believed in me both here and in the US and that offered their assistance, knowledge and love unselfishly. In closing, I would like to leave you with some more anecdotes and observations that might give you a small window into my unforgettable life here in Brusturoasaland. For me, it is all so personal, unique, invigorating, necessary, spiritual, and hour by hour, very rewarding. Then I hope you will write your own story. In Romania, You may not be a fan of ciorba, but you can savor the taste of the most delicious tomatoes on the planet. In Romania, You are never alone for long and privacy means a few short minutes when you can catch your breath by the riverbank. In Romania, You can wash your hair with ice cold water outside by the herb garden while the sheep bleat nextdoor, a lonely cowbell rings, and the train whizzes by and whistles. In Romania, Everyone thinks you are rich, but you know that they really are.
Truly this is a fact of life, especially of Peace Corps life. I will try to condense all that has happened in the last three weeks. The good, the bad, the ugly, the tragic, and the sublime: Settling in allowance is gone and have shopped around here and there, mostly there, for overpriced trinkets to stock a modest minimalist kitchen. Taking daily walks along the dirt roads admiring the wildflowers, dodging animals, and thinking about everything over here and over there. Loving working with the children, cooking, learning, enjoying new foods and new friendships. Meeting everyone who lives in this commune of villages and having no trouble being the token American. Teaching everything I know and everything I ever wanted to know to anyone who will listen. Learning how to harvest again and spending time with the dirt, the sun, and the plants. Being invited over to have sarmale and some more sarmale with a big bowl of happiness for dessert. Meeting three great people "from off" in Holland and Cornwall and sharing ideas. Getting a huge classroom for extra curricular projects with a whole slew of windows that look to the south. Finding that we have four new and six old sewing machines in the utility room not being used yet. Having two cups of great coffee in between four or five classes a day. Going to the center of town to schmooze with the dignitaries, the old ones, and the very important persons...my students...as the train whistles by overhead and the smell of smokey myce fills the air. Watching everyone having a great time even though it's freezing cold (at least for me!). Going to the magazin for the third time today to ask for something to cook for dinner besides poi with a brewski. Writing the umpteenth millionth page in my journal now four months old. Discussing projects with select groups of people interested in preserving the environment and conserving energy. Attending the St. Mary's Day festival and seeing some really special traditions happening right before my eyes. Listening to the dogs howl at night and the roosters crow in the morning. Having no time all day, but much time at night to contemplate my future, the impact of my service, and the affect all this is having on my relationships and myself. Being heartbroken at walking in and seeing the children in the procession of a small nine year old classmate's funeral who died instantly after being struck by a car outside of her home here. Feeling sadness while teaching in front of her empty desk in grade 3 that is adorned with a perpetual daily tea light, a vase of flowers, and a soft black ribbon tied in a bow. Congregating on the crowded microbus for the weekly five hour round trip trek to the only supermarket and bank in the city closest to here. Relying on the kindness of strangers, who aren't strangers any more. Feeling so honored at having the opportunity to take these children under my wing, if only for a time, and to share experiences, language, and culture from far, far away. Wondering where the boxes are with some more of my clothes and personal things that were mailed to me over a month ago. Waiting for the day that all my studying and networking and active searching for talking partners will pay off and I will become fluent in Romanian. Feeling joy at the sight of the ducks that are growing up faster than ever right before my eyes. Taking the time to write to everyone whenever I can and sending off my second letter to WWS along with a huge DVD loaded with pictures and video. Finishing two knitting projects late in the evening while watching Euronews, CNN International, and assorted old movies on TCM. Understanding that I was blessed to be chosen for this job to be here now and in this time and place. Having the time of my life and seeing things that will stay with me forever. Crying myself to sleep more than once missing the love of my life something awful. Finding something to do every single minute even if I don't have to. Exploring any new road I can find. Having the respect of mature colleagues and enjoying exchanges and smiles. Getting immersed in Romanian culture every day of the week. Wishing that I could bottle the good times, the talking together, the views, the tastes, the smells, the air and take it out whenever I want. Hoping for a good night's sleep with some heat and a soft bed. Having some lavender tea, contemplating new things and enjoying the sunsets. Looking to the future, reminiscing about the past, and living in the moment with both anxiety and a trusting heart. And dreaming of you, my Wonderwall...
Well, let me see....
In Romania, The days are long, the time goes by slowly, and there are no plans---at least the ones that you know about. In Romania, You may meet a horse, a more than friendly cow, some chickens, a turkey or two, or more than a few chickens on the road---or not. In Romania, The mountains are green, the water is cool, and the stars at night are like a crazy dream. In Romania, You have to light the stove everyday with damp matches, use an outhouse when visiting new friends more often than not, wear your scarf and gloves to bed starting in September---but you can have Satellite TV of course. In Romania, There is no Harris Teeter or Walmart, but you can by nothing you need and anything you want at the "magazin-s" because they're Mixt and Non-Stop. In Romania, You should always take the road less travelled, lest you miss out on a single woodpecker making his mark in life or the thousands of varieties of nettles and flowers along the wild paths. In Romania, The language is not a barrier if you like smiling and waving to the train conductor by your front door or listening to and chatting with the other elders in the village after supper. In Romania, It's okay for your clothes not to match in public---at all---and to wear socks with sandals or chizme with a dress and an apron. In Romania, They like myce on the grill, tuica in a glass, and never do they miss a chance for ice cream. In Romania, The religiosity is palpable, refreshing, comforting, and real. In Romania, The land is a hodgepodge of timber, tin, tile, gardens, makeshift sheds, old time bridges, animal farms, lovely people, and churches. In Romania, Strangers become friends---and friends become family. In Romania, The wells are ancient---and they hold living waters. 
To the kind people of Romania, the Peace Corps' entire administrative staff, our superb language instructors, and my gazda family here in Targoviste,
Today is a day for all of us to look toward the future. A day for reflection on what we have accomplished. And as we stand on the threshold of a promising time, we take notice of our supporters, the Romanian people, who have welcomed us warmly into their country. Peace Corps Romania is a unique and wonderful opportunity for both our people and yours. Still, for some of us, this day holds a special meaning, one that has shaped our decisions and motivated our desires since we can remember. In 1961, when John F. Kennedy proposed the inception of this organization, we were children, not yet aware of the impact that our participation could have. The years went by and we learned about ourselves, became adults, had our disappointments and celebrated our successes. We lost and sacrificed and changed and earned and all the while we were gaining wisdom, experience, compassion, and understanding of what it meant to be alive in this era. Some of us became parents, even grandparents, and further we could know the unique joy of this hope for the future. We lived the "Age of Aquarius", the birth of color television, the first man on the moon, the chaos of the 60's, the assassinations of our most prominent leaders, the Vietnam War, the technological revolution, supersonic air travel, "fast food nation", a booming economy, the dream of an education, and the ability to travel widely and often. Now we admit that our journeys have not ended. We take all that we have learned and known and travel onward to begin our volunteer service in Romania. We are proud of our heritage, we are humbled by the privilege of the daunting tasks before us. We leave behind beloved friends and families; we accept our fate and answer our calling many years in the making. We thank you for all that you have given to us already and also for all that we will share with you during the next two years of our lives. We have prepared for this moment in earnest and we are part of the last of the Kennedy generation of Peace Corps volunteers who will go abroad to be of service to others in a foreign nation. We are fortunate to be here now on the brink of the 50th anniversary of the US Peace Corps and we will always be grateful to have been born in such an auspicious time. We look ahead to our days in Romania and when our service ends, we will say once again, "The Best is Yet to Come!" Natalie Montanaro US Peace Corps Brusturoasa,Romania 2009-2011
What can I tell you about Brusturoasa?
Once I had a dream that I was in the old world, and the sound of the train crept by like a whisper in the starriest of nights along the cool and clean river. And in that dream there was laughter, green fields of colorful wildflowers and red fruit, vines that hung low and high along fences made of seasoned wood, birds that flew overhead into the sunset and the horsecarts' wheels made time with the clop, clop, clop of a stately animal with a long, golden mane. This was the dream that I dreamt of "times gone by" and I realized it this week when I saw my new home for the next two years. Every person that I met, either down the road, in the church, at the school where I will teach, and among my gazda family, each of them, were welcoming, curious, anxious, and full of wishes for our time together. I slept well for the first time in a while and I knew that this was a place that I could call home. The town is small and the people have much to do. There are holidays, birthdays, weddings and funerals in the tradition of a true Romania. There is peacefulness and fresh air. The mountains lie right behind the house where I will live, complete with a large working garden and animals that sustain the property. There are two dogs, a horse, many chickens, roosters, and turkeys, five pigs, and two cows. We will eat branza cured in fir tree bark, sip homemade palinka and elderflower tea, and admire all the freshness there that will grace our table. And I will be fortunate enough in time to bear witness to the beauty of many seasons of cultivation. There will be very cold winters, lots of cultural diversions, and a short spring and summer, yet days that hold surprises in nature around every corner, and hopes for a wonderful Peace Corps service with a multitude of possibilities.
Hello All!
The Fourth of July Party was great...All 45 minutes of it until the rains came! We all made such wonderful food and the decorations were great and truly the setting as well was so nice in beautiful Chindia Park. But as nature would have it, we were soaked to the skin and had to abandon our day's plans. I spent the remainder of Saturday together with my gazda family and we talked, ate and drank, played games and surely a good time was had by all. The rest of the week was a long, long wait until Wednesday since watching the memorial service for Michael Jackson was bittersweet, especially since it is now a chapter in my life that is closed having grown up with him and his music. I especially loved the letter from Miss Diana Ross whom I had the occasion to meet in 1986 back in RI. When Wednesday finally did arrive, however, we were rewarded when a-la-The Academy Awards, we all individually walked the red carpet (literally) and we were so very pleased to get confirmation of where we would be living in the next two years of our service. FYI: I will be in a small village called Brusturoasa, in the Carpathian foothills, on the border of the Moldovan region of Romania. It's actually part of Transylvania, but you knew that I would get there someday, didn't you? I will live with the mayor and his wife and their small children in an idyllic place and teach middle school and help with summer projects and camps. I couldn't have asked for a better situation to live out my Peace Corps dream! The English teaching and technology and cultural training are needed here and the children are so excited that they will be getting an American teacher. They and their current teacher already sent me today a huge surprise box of the most wonderful hand-made dolls, a tapestry, pictures, letters, a picture of my new home made with grasses and leaves, a basket of sweet little chicks, a sheep's wool mask sewn together with leather and made of various colors of coat, another funny traditional clay mask, a CD of the area, and to top it all off a golden horseshoe. I am blessed! It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood and I look forward to meeting all of my new students and the people of Brusturoasa. They rock already!
The following are entries from my journal about two aspects of the concepts of death and dying expressed by Romanian Orthodox followers in two small villages on two different weekends which I was fortunate to share in first hand this month. I felt the need to write about these in light of how we all contemplate death at some time or another, especially this week, when the world has experienced the too early loss of the iconic and supremely talented King of Pop, Michael Jackson. And so it is---an unfortunate and unavoidable part of living.
June 6, 2009: Today will surely be one of the most memorable days I will spend in Romania. I believe it. My gazda family and I went to a biserica in a small village on the outskirts of Targoviste called Razvad. Here we visited during the ceremony for the Remembrance of the Dead. All brought large baskets filled with cakes decorated by traditional crucifixes and libations in old soda bottles that were lit by long, thin candles as the Parenti (Priest/Father) chanted in Romanian as there the visitors looked after their relatives and friends since gone. As the doors to the altar opened and closed and the incense and holy waters were passed among them, I thought of how in earlier times this ritual was the same. The blessing of the basket offerings ensued and the people young and old took part in age-old customs. For over 500 years, this structure had welcomed those who looked after the memory of their dead and it made me realize the meaning of my own ties to religion and how it has always been such a huge part of my life. The music was deep and I will never forget how it touched me for the first time as a visitor to Romania. We then walked out with baskets to commemorate the day and offer the libations and cake to each other and especially to the deceased as they lie silent in their graves beside the church in the yard. I was invited to the country home of a bunica and her family who offered me more cakes and plate of eggs, chicken, chocolate, nuts, and cheese to feast upon and drink it all in under the arbor of newly bloomed, young green grapes. June 27, 2009 Another wonderful and spiritually laced day in the tara (countryside). This time I visited with my gazda family their extended immediate family in the village of Marcesti, about 30 minutes outside of Targoviste. I met my gazda's brother and sister-in-law and their children and her elderly father the bunic (grandfather). I got a tour of their modest property, complete with garden, cherry trees, and an assortment of animals in pens and loosely exploring the grass and mounds of dirt left astray for their enjoyment. The place was alive despite the concrete garage open bucaterie (kitchen) and the old and many times repaired wooden sheds that housed animal feed, supplies, tools and the like. The house had been restored and retained remnants of the original roof and flooring and was appointed with many books and an array of oriental-style rugs. It was clean and busy and the family made us ciorba, pork and salad complete with fresh cheese from their cow whom I was able to milk later on in the day (My first time and no movie-style kicks, thank goodness!) The best part of the day however, was to attend the funeral of a local man, 76, and with a large family. The whole village came out and as I sat in the small room next to the body laid out for the past three days in the hall in a grand casket with a veil, I remembered how my mother told of the Polish custom similar to this in her girlhood and felt so lucky to be welcome here. The granddaughter pinned a small black velvet band on my blouse and looked at me with tired but friendly eyes that seemed to say "thank you" or maybe just "I am a young girl, wondering everything here---welcome stranger." The ritual went on as one of the aunts and a cousin passed a live chicken and a pot of red roses under the coffin as it crossed the threshold to bless the deceased and the crowd followed the horse drawn carriage, all of us, as the wife, sisters, and children wailed and cried aloud asking why and how this could be. As the gentleman was brought to first the church and the cemetary, I could only think of how calm and peaceful he seemed, how strong his hands were, and how much he was loved, despite the blue black visage of rigor mortis which had taken hold. I thanked my gazda family for this day of blessings and went to bed early in hopes of another tomorrow.
This has been a great week and I thought that I might share some of that with you. First of all, I have been "chomping at the bit" to start working and being able to teach finally has been a fabulous burst of energy for me. The children are endearing and intelligent, some shy, some very dramatic, and of course this makes it so much more interesting. Monday was a lesson on Charleston, SC with a follow-up to their creating a brochure of their own about Targoviste. All of them know how to say "Smiling Faces, Beautiful Places!" and we had a great time. The second day, teaching was in poetry format and I read some original as well as a couple of short poems to illustrate how to create free verse from photos and mental pictures. I had cut up a National Geographic and they went to town with that. Today there was weather instruction for the first hour and geography the last hour. One of my favorites to teach in an English class. I really love that the children all now know how to say and define climate, meteorology, precipitation, Appalachian, Mississipi, and Tornado Alley. Kind of cool for us EFL teachers since we can use all subjects to get the message across. My second day had a little glitch and it was kind of funny later since I helped the med staff present nosebleeds and eye injuries, so go figure, I get a nosebleed in the middle of Tuesday's class. No problem---since I've done this before---and so we marched on with the lesson.
Having a lot of long days since I am out exploring town and on the weekends spend lots of time with my gazda family. Next week, I will be teaching high school and then we all find out about our permanent sites on the 8th of July. I can't wait to start researching the new home and planning for the move. Had a meeting with the country director this afternoon and will meet with the TEFL placement director tomorrow so wish me luck!!! PS: Language classes are going great and that's one of the perks that I joined PC for. I hope that when I get to my site there are many opportunities for chatting it up with the locals. Yesterday I had a nice long talk with an old man outside the pharmacy and in the park on Sunday was able to meet a nice Bunica and her grandaughters and we talked while being serenaded by accordians and music from the Orthodox church as a wedding ceremony began. So, I am on my way home before dark again....the caine vagabonde (stray dogs) have been out in force and the packs keep us up at night with the growling, howling, and barking right outside the window. Like a good student, I will write a poem about that in Romanian for you next week. Bye for now and remember---Be well, do good work, and keep in touch!
If this trip to Romania weren't surreal enough, then how about some of the most amazing scenery from back in time? I am in awe of the fabulously friendly people and how hard they work day to day to bring to life their land and to carry their heritage on their backs for all to see. In their faces are the hardships and the lasting memories that their grandparents, their "bunici", gave them. The cities here are paradoxical, the countryside is fantastical, and the days here are sweet.
Today after the first week of Peace Corps training I am grateful for the sunshine to take a long walk this morning from the train station to classes at the other end of town. I am grateful for my Romanian Gazda family who are most gracious hosts and I am grateful for the time to get to know these people whose geography I will share for a time all too short. I am grateful for knowing enough Romanian to get around on my own sometimes and grateful for the diversity of my fellow PC trainees. I am grateful that I was not on Air France last week. I am grateful for the continued success of the Peace Corps and the mission which JFK conceived. I am grateful for the fluffy towel I remembered to bring with me. I am grateful for the health and happiness of my friends and family until we can meet again. I am grateful also for the absence of spitting and canine droppings on the sidewalks that I encountered in China and Italy on former trips abroad respectively and, I am grateful that I will be having the time of my life in multiple ways.
Talk to you next week when I will post photos!
For those of you who know me well, the preparation to get to this point has been excruciatingly slow, expensive in more ways than one, filled with highs and lows, and most certainly coloured with all the mundane and gory details that accompany the likes of planning for your final trip to some afterlife. (I won't again mention the tooth extraction incident where I screamed like a monkey as the anesthetic wore off somewhere between the slicing of the gum with the scalpel and the grinding of bone with the saw)! And although it took me 45 years to get from what was initially just a young kid's yearning to be a part of something bigger instilled by the words of JFK, to this time when that same young person is somehow transcended into a grown-up who can fulfill the commitment to serve in the Peace Corps, still, I am so very grateful that I am finally about to realize the gravity of the dream that is now about to unfold. Nonetheless, it truly seems as if I needed one more week to say "La Revedere" to all of you who have made my life so rich. Thanks for all the sendoffs, hugs, kisses, shows of emotion, gifts, and precious pieces of yourselves that I will take with me always. It is my sincere hope that this detour from my Charleston life will be enlightening and joyful, filled with experiences that are enriching, challenging, and long-saved in memory. Good or bad, rough or smooth, communal or savoured alone, I look forward to sharing a few of my Peace Corps experiences with you.
How many entries are we showing above?
For now, we are showing up to 50 entries on each page. Entries that
are too short are filtered out. For more entries, please use
archives.
|
Connect to Peace Corps Journals
About the Journal
Contact Us
Disclaimer:
| |
| Copyright (c) 2010 |
