Using your Noggin

I had some PCV friends over for the interim between Christmas and the new year. We decided one day to make egg nog. So, we went out and bought the necessary ingredients-- eggs, milk, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Lacking a blender, I thought about how we might mix everything together. I decided to go to the hotel across the street and see if I could borrow something from their kitchen. However, my friend George wasn't in (he's the doorman who usually allows me to borrow items from the hotel kitchen). I decided to ask the lady at the desk anyway. I explained that I needed some sort of machine to mix liquid ingredients together. At first she thought I was a guest at the hotel, but after I explained I lived across the street and wanted to take the thing with me she got confused. The manager (at least I think that's who it was) happened to pass by at this point, and asked the desk clerk what was going on. She explained that I was in need of something to mix a drink. 'Simply bring the things down from your room and we'll mix them for you,' said the manager. I further clarified that I wasn't a guest, but simply a guy who lives across the street. 'Oh, you don't have a room here?' 'No,' I explained once more, noticing the conversation going in circles. In any case, it seemed extremely doubtful that they'd give me any sort of mixing device, so I left, still wondering what I'd do.

Eventually I got a mixing device from my land-lady. However, there was still a problem. I had bought whole cloves, and didn't have any way to grind them. Suddenly, I remembered that I had a brick in my oven. It was a giant brick I had taken from the courtyard of my building to use as a weight (I had made some stuffed peppers that were so stuffed that I couldn't get the lid of the casserole dish to sit tightly). It was simple; we'd use the 'whammo method,' one of the most ancient and trusted processes (see illustration below). So, we put the cloves in a plastic bag, carefully wrapped the bag in a paper towel, and proceeded to beat the cloves mercilessly. The caveman method produced finely pummeled cloves, which we added to the nog. In the end, perhaps a bit surprisingly, it tasted almost exactly like egg nog. Pretty awesome!

A Venit Mos Craciun

Well, I've had my first Christmas in Romania, and it all went pretty well. I spent Christmas Eve with about 20 of my 12th graders. We went caroling from house to house, and even stopped to sing for some strangers on the street. All the carols were traditional Romanian pieces I had never heard before, so I had to learn the words on the fly (and most of the time I didn't understand what I was singing). We visited a bunch of the teachers from Brediceanu, the highschool. Some of them live in small apartments, which made it interesting when the entire group of carolers tried to stuff into the living room. We sang two or three songs at every home, and stayed for a while to talk and sample the wares of the household. Many of our hosts thought that because I'm American it would be a good idea to give me whiskey. So, I got my share of Jack Daniels (which is really expensive in Romania). I don't even like whiskey.

After caroling, I went to visit a colleague and his family at their home. I ended up having dinner with them at about 10, and stayed at their home till 3. I had given them a bottle of wine. We cracked it open and talked for a while.

Later that morning I went to an Orthodox Christmas service. It started at 10, and lasted until 1. I suppose it goes without saying that it was a very long mass. The ceremony itself was much different than what I'm used to from Catholic masses. There were no scripture readings, no singing by the parish. The priest(s) simply seemed to recite many ritualistic prayers. The choir sang some unfamiliar, almost medieval-sounding chants. There seemed to be several holy men in attendance, one of whom was responsible for walking around while swinging the incense. It was pretty interesting. The layout of the church itself was different. There were some pews, but also a large open space in front the altar (which was concealed by a templon wall, with a curtains and three gates through which the priests passed back and forth). In the middle of that open space there was what appeared to be a bible resting on a book stand. During the early part of the service people seemed to mill around and genuflect in front of the bible. However, as the service progressed, more people came and the open space began to fill up with spectators. By the end of the three hours, the place was packed. To be completely honest, the mass was so long and I was so tired (having been up till 3) that I fell asleep during the middle part. However, I rallied towards the end. I'm not sure I'll attend another Orthodox Christmas service. But it was something I thought was worth experiencing. I'd say the coolest part was when they rang the church bells. There was a man up on the choir balcony who pulled a giant chord which was connected to the bells. Their resounding 'ding-dong' sent subtle vibrations throughout the church.

After the service was over I went to another colleague's house. We had a huge dinner and played a board game in which one of the players is 'Agent X' somewhere in London, and the others are officers trying to surround and capture him. It was actually pretty tough.

So, what did Santa bring me? Santa, by the way, is called 'Mos Craciun' in Romania (pronounced: Mosh Cratch-yoon). I've gotten several cards from friends and students. I've also received candles and free meals from worried mothers who think I'm too skinny. Flavia gave me a scarf, a calendar with Romania's landmarks, a CD of famous pieces by Romanian composers, a box of cookies, and a stocking that says "Merry Christmas." I've hung it up as one of my two Christmas decorations (the other is a page taken from a Charlie Brown coloring book, and shows Charlie playing with a train under a Christmas tree-- given to me by a friend and former PCV). I also got some packages from home-- one that was filled with books and Reese's peanut butter cups (Reese's are a big hit with my Romanian friends), and the other sent by my brother with DVDs and a picture of my niece (she's getting so big). And, last but not least, I received a pressure cooker from my colleagues at the school. They've caught wind of my new interest in cooking.

I ended my Christmas by making a skype call to my family back home. We miss each other very much, but talking for free on skype made it a little better.

Here's a picture of my land-lady's christmas tree. I helped to set it up on Sunday. It was funny, she approached me asking for help because the tree wouldn't fit in her tree stand (which was not adjustable, but simply had a pipe to receive the trunk-- and the trunk was about twice the diameter of the pipe). I spent a few minutes widdling down the trunk so that it'd fit. Then we trimmed the tree:

A Very Lugoj Christmas

On Thursday night I went to a carol concert put on by the Ion Vidu Chamber Choir (a professional group from Lugoj). They sang several English and German classics, as well as many traditional Romanian carols. They were really quite good. Here are just a few samples of some of the Romanian carols they sang:

"Astazi s-a nascut Hristos" (Jesus was born Today)

"Florile Dalbe" (The White Flowers)

"Plecarea Magilor" (The Magi's Journey)

I went to do my Christmas shopping today. It took me about two hours to get through the grocery store, and all I wanted to do was buy three bottles of wine. Waiting till the last minute to buy Christmas presents is a mistake I continually make. Oh well, at least it's done.

Next week I'll be going from the home of one colleague to another for visits and dinners, etc (I definitely won't be alone for the week, which is nice). On Christmas Eve I'll start things out by going caroling with some of my students. The caroling tradition is quite strong here. ('a colinda' is the Romanian verb for 'to carol'). The students usually go to their teacher's homes, sing, visit for a while, and receive candy or money. It'll be interesting to see what it's all about.

Sarbatori Fericite! (Happy Holidays!)

Art Exhibit

Last night I heard loud drumming down in the street below my apartment. At first I wasn't sure what it was; it was so loud. I thought perhaps someone was digging a well with a giant percussion drill-- in the center of town, at 6pm. But, something told me that probably wasn't the case. So, I peered out my window, and what to my wondering eyes did appear, but six men with drums chasing a seventh dressed in strange gear. The man they were chasing was dressed in a frilly, colorful costume that I think was supposed to make him look like an animal. I put on my jacket to go downstairs and have a closer look.

The drummers were running all over the place, but eventually stopped and drummed in front of the town's art gallery for a while. Then they went off to another part of town. I really don't know what that was all about, but I can think of two possible explanations: Maybe the drummers and man in costume is some sort of Rroma Christmas tradition. The reason I speculate this is because I was in a pub earlier this week and three Rroma (perhaps better known as Gypsies) came in. Two of them had plastic buckets for drums, and the other was dressed in a similar costume, which made him look like a cross between a dancing, rainbow-colored Christmas tree and Cousin It. They made their way around the bar asking for money. So, perhaps what I witnessed last night was the same sort of thing I saw in the pub that day. However, there were some differences between the two occurrences. Firstly, last night, the men with drums were dressed very neatly in traditional costumes (whether Rroma or Romanian, I couldn't tell). Secondly, they had real drums, not plastic buckets. Thirdly, they weren't asking for money. And fourthly, the man dressed as the animal/tree/who-knows-what had a decidedly more elaborate costume.

These differences were enough to make me wonder if in fact this was the same thing I had seen in the bar a few days before, or perhaps it was something related to the opening of a new exhibit at the art gallery (my second explanation). This also makes some sense, since the exhibit is a collection of ceramic masks inspired by those of Africa. After all, the drumming was somewhat 'tribal' in nature. Perhaps their spectacle in the town center was a way to announce the opening of the art exhibit. Who knows. In any case, I went to check out the masks. They were pretty cool. The artist talked with me for a while, and tried to explain the motivations behind her project. It was very interesting, and a bit surprising, to see something such as this in a small city like Lugoj.

The 7 Month Mark

So, I've been in Romania for nearly 7 months now. And, I'd have to say, the past month has been the most emotionally difficult. Just around Thanksgiving my first real feelings of homesickness set in and I really started to miss my family and friends more than ever. I suppose it was the result of a combination of factors.

Firstly, on November 18th I had been in Romania for 6 months. That's half a year, a significant chunk of time-- the longest I've ever been away from home. This realization sort of put things in perspective. I may have made it so far, but I still have a lot to go. The last time I felt a similar realization was when I was sitting in the Frankfurt airport, waiting for the flight to Bucharest. It suddenly struck me that I wasn't in Kansas anymore. This was no vacation, i wasn't going for two weeks and coming right back home...no, there was no turning back. I boarded the plane, all the while saying, "Mike, what the hell are you doing?" I got into my seat, fell asleep, slept the entire flight, and woke up in Bucharest--it was sort of surreal, dream-like.

Secondly, this is my first holiday season away from home, and I kind of miss my usual holiday routine.

Thirdly, I'm struggling to find 'friends' here in town. Don't get me wrong, my students and colleagues at the school are great. But, I haven't found anyone with whom I feel a close personal connection (save perhaps my counterpart).

And, fourthly, the novelty of my situation is starting to wear off. Things aren't any longer as strange or confusing as they used to be, and I'm falling into a routine, which is both good and bad. On the one hand, I'm becoming accustomed to PC life, and I'm starting to think of Lugoj as my home for the next two years. But, on the other hand, I'm still not quite there yet, and the transition has proven to be difficult--not physically, but I've felt more mentally torn than ever before. The PC staff warned us about the psychological difficulties of working in a country like Romania. I don't have it bad by any means. But, one of my motivations is to effect some sort of change by my efforts (which is probably true of any other volunteer). However, working as a teacher, the results of my actions are less tangible. It's not like I'm building latrines in a small village in Burkina Faso. There, the results would be much more real. I sometimes ask myself what effect I'm having in my community. But then again, maybe I'm expecting too much. After all, I've only been in Lugoj for 4 months. Moreover, I suppose just my presence here has an effect, and every conversation I have with a Romanian is significant in and of itself.

So anyway, I've been hitting some rough times. Nothing terrible; I mean, my situation could be much worse. But, there are good days and there are bad. At my orientation in Philidelphia the staff warned that service in the Peace Corps can be an emotional roller coaster, a warning I've heard again and again since.

My feelings of homesickness come and go. Hanging out with friends at Thanksgiving really helped. Then last week I visitea married PCV couple in a small village north of here. That was followed by a week-long In-Service Training seminar, at which I got to see all the members of my group. It was the first time I'd gotten to see them all since we'd gone off to our respective sites, which was nice.

However, coming back to site was sort of hard, after a week of being with my American friends. This past week dragged pretty rough, especially at the beginning. But, yesterday turned out ok. I did a lesson on the poem "A Visit from St. Nicholas" ('Twas the night before Christmas...) with one of my toughest groups of students (getting them to use English is like trying to get Pigpen to wash his clothes). We read the poem out loud together and discussed some of the vocabulary. They seemed to really like it, and by the end of the lesson, even my most intractable student was smiling. That made my day.

And, after nearly a month of cloudy grey skies, the sun finally came out today. So things are changing. One thing I'm finding out is that the life of a volunteer can be quite variable. One week might be completely terrible, but the next might be great. I guess you just have to be able to roll with the punches and keep on looking forward.

Thanksgiving

So, next Thursday I'll be celebrating Thanksgiving with a number of 'west-side' PCVs in Arad. It should be a good time. I'm thinking I'd like to take a salad or something. If any of you out there have suggestions or recipes, please send them along!

So I've started writing short articles for the local newspaper here in Lugoj, "Redesteptarea" (which I suppose would loosely translate as 'The Awakener'). My first piece, on being thankful, was published this week. I wrote it in English, emailed it to them and they translated it. I read it today, and the translation seems pretty close to what I wrote. However, they left out one very important thing. I described the typical Thanksgiving feast, with Turkey, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, stuffing, etc. The copied everything I said word for word. Everything, that is, except they completely left out any mention of stuffing! Alas, perhaps they didn't bother with it because there isn't any Romanian equivalent. Nevertheless, that well-loved, inimitable bread-based substance is a rather big part of the Thanksgiving feast and I think it deserves mention. I will do my best to start up a stuffing awareness campaign.

Here's what I wrote:

November is here, which for me means it is time to give thanks. On the 22^nd of November, my family and friends back home will be celebrating Thanksgiving. As the name of the holiday implies, it is a day when Americans show gratitude for the blessings in their life. Families typically gather together for a giant feast that usually consists of a large turkey, a seasoned bread-based substance we call “stuffing,” mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, and, for desert, pumpkin pie (my favorite!). In my family the meal is a big tradition. My mother works in the kitchen for days preparing everything. My relatives come to our home and stay for a few days, traveling from localities as distant as Maine, Pennsylvania and Chicago. I have always enjoyed the food and vibrant company. I especially enjoy my cousin Beth’s delicious pumpkin cheesecake, which is best with lots of whipped cream.

This will be my first Thanksgiving away from home. Of course I will miss my mom’s cooking, and I will certainly miss my family. However, even if I am in Romania and cannot be with those dearest to me, I can still celebrate the basic spirit of Thanksgiving. I have many reasons to be thankful. Being in this country offers me many wonderful opportunities. First of all, working at Brediceanu has given me the chance to develop my professional teaching experience. I am very lucky to be working with such intelligent students and accomplished staff. I am also very thankful to be in such a great town, with such hospitable people. Romania itself is a beautiful country, and I appreciate the rich cultural history and many natural wonders that it has to offer. I might add that Romanian food is simply amazing! I love it (sorry mom, I love your food too). Lastly, and above all, I am thankful for the chance to learn about the Romanian way of life. My time here will not only teach me about the Romanian people and their country--thereby expanding my own worldly understanding-- but, I will also be able to teach Romanians something about what Americans are really like. For this reason I cherish all the friendships I am making. In the spirit of Thanksgiving I encourage everyone to think seriously about his or her blessings, however big or small, and perhaps find a way to say ‘thank-you.’

The translated version of the article can be found here

My School is...uh...cool!

So the last fews days of teaching have been pretty decent. I've assigned debate topics to my more advanced 12th graders, which requires them to do some research outside of class. On Wednesday and Thursday I had the first debate classes, and they went pretty well. One of the groups even brought in a laptop and gave a Powerpoint presentation! I look forward to next week's debate classes. I'm also planning to show "An Inconvenient Truth" to the classes that have already debated, since one of their topics was global warming.

As for the younger kids, when I'm not teaching somewhat stale lessons out of a textbook, I make up worksheets on various topics. For example, I had one with a simple love story (only 7 lines long) and I had them add adjectives to it, as well as whole sentences. I also had a sheet with an advertisement, and we talked about advertising a bit (analyzing what adverts don't tell us). My latest worksheet was on jokes. I started out the class talking about humor, giving them vocab along the way, like slap-stick comedy. I even demonstrated some slap-stick by pretending to slip on a banana peel and fall on my rearend. The kids thought it was the funniest thing when their 'teacher' actually fell in the classroom (and some looked sort of shocked, not sure if it was on-purpose or not).

I didn't plan a lesson for my 8th graders today. In fact, I walked in the door not really sure what I was going to do. Then it hit me, I'd have them write sentences. But, to make it fun, I had them work in groups. Each group had a sheet of paper, folded into four columns. In the first column one of the group members had to write a noun; in the second another group member wrote a verb; in the third, a preposition; and in the fourth, a place. The catch was that no one knew what the whole sentence was until the end, because each group member wrote their word without the rest of the group seeing it. They loved it. I remember one sentence was something like: "My earwax dripped on the coffin." I encouraged them to think of the wackiest nouns, verbs and adjectives they could. It worked so well, I ended up using it for my 9th graders too. They started out saying "aww man, are we gonna do grammar?? We're too cool for grammar!" But, by the end they were really into it.

I also paid a visit to the school's library today. I'd peeked in before, and it looked intersting, but I didn't have enough time to really look around. However, today I had some free time. The librarian, rather excited I had stopped by, gave me a tour of the library's most prized possessions, including several books from the 1700's, and a HUGE leather atlas with many maps well over 200 years old. I found one map of Italy that was so old that the shape of the country looked nothing like the 'boot' peninsula we all know, and Sicily was massive. I'm guessing they didn't have Google Maps back then. There were also several maps of "Germany," well before the country was unified. The craftsmanship of these maps was impressive- many had intricate pen and ink artwork at the top, and some showed early attempts at topography (I never knew that hundreds of years ago mountians were arranged in neat grid-patterns). Also included was a German world map, which depicted the Americas, the Thirteen Colonies, and a rather misshapen Middle East. It was all really amazing, and in really good condition.

Another thing of note: I found out tonight my school has a climbing wall in the basement! I've been attending meetings of "Club Concordia," which meets in the school basement every Friday evening at 7:00. It's the local hiking club, with members from three of the highschools in town. Usually they show slideshows of previous hikes, and plan new excursions. We already have snow in the mountains next to Lugoj (I saw it while walking to school today), and perhaps next weekend we're going to go skiing. In any case, tonight there was no slideshow. Instead, the kids decided to climb. When I heard this, I was intrigued...climb? where? They opened a door, which revealed a back room with a climbing wall. Not a big one, mind you (the cielings in the basement are only 8-10 feet high). But, nevertheless, there was a climbing wall, complete with a small bouldering course! I was amazed! So, of course, I climbed. It was fantastic!

Today was my birthday!

So, the Orthodox calendar has various Saint's days. Today was the day of St. Michael and St. Gabriel (Ziua Sfantului Mihail, Gavriel). Such days are cause for celebration for people who share thier name with the saint. It's rather a big deal.

So, since my name is Michael, it was my day to "be a saint," along with all the other Mihai's, Mihaela's, Gabriel's and Gabriela's at the school. But, unlike in the States, when the celebration is in your honor, it's customary for you to be the one to give gifts or buy drinks. So, I brought in a box of pastries to share with my collegues in the English department. One of my fellow teachers, Mihaela, gave me a jar of home-made quince-jelly.

Later on, during one of the breaks between classes, pizza was served in the teachers' room. Nearly all the teachers were present. There were many cheers of "noroc!" which means good luck, and "la multi ani!" which means to many years. Anyone named Mihai, Gabriela, etc. was smothered with hugs and kisses. There wasn't any mirror nearby to check, but I'm sure my cheeks were smeared with lipstick by the time it was all over.

While we were eating pizza, the bell rang. Technically we were supposed to go off to class, but no one heeded the call. One teacher said to me, "don't mind the bell. It's your day; take a moment to enjoy it." However, people did slowly start trickling off to their respective classes. I'm sure the kids didn't mind the absences of their teachers too much...

In the next break, I was again delayed in getting to class. I was about to rush off when one of the teachers asked me to wait in the Language teachers' office. I knew something was up, when the rest of the language teachers suddenly swarmed into the room. Mr. Barboni, the head of the English department (they call him Shakespeare because of his countenance) gave me a present from all the teachers. It was a mug that said, "even in Hell a gentlemen remains a gentleman." On the other side of it was a picture of a man sitting in a boiling cauldron wearing a monacle and a bow-tie, smoking a cigar and sipping a martini.

The joke is that Romania is a hell-hole, but somehow we all manage to keep our heads. Romania is not in fact a hell-hole, but Romanians tend to have a somewhat pessimistic, self-depricating, but light-hearted sense of humor. For example, if a train is late, someone might say, "What did you expect? This is Romania after all..."

I'm learning to appreciate the sublties of Romanian sarcasm. And, what is more, I now have a proper mug for my tea!

Pics of the cave at Romanesti

At the entrance. Had I yanked out the poles, the whole cave would've collapsed!

Looking like a dork with my headlamp

Sleeping bat. Good thing there wasn't any music to wake him

Limestone deposits

The column

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Here's a video of the concert:

thanks to Cameron for the photos

A rainy autumn day

A few shots of fall:

Most of my excursions here in Romania seem to involve a rainy day, or at least the threat of rain. I've become accustomed to packing a rain jacket wherever I go.

This past Sunday I went to a nearby cave with Cameron and a couple students from my school. It was a grey, overcast day. We had heard that they would be having a concert in the cave; they do every year. For the past 20 years or so, the location has been host to a symphonic concert, with a rock concert the following weekend.

The symphonic concert was the weekend before, so logically, the rock concert was going to be this weekend. However, it wasn't. Unfortunatley, it took a train ride, a hitchhike, and an hour hike for us to find out. Apparently the organizers considered the weather less-than-favorable, and decided to cancel. Bummer.

On the upside, however, we were the only ones there, and got the chance to explore the entire cave. It was much grander than I expected it to be. It must have extended at least a half a kilometer. There were several small stalactites, and one rather ancient limestone column. There was one room filled with the sound of squeaking bats. There were a few asleep, but I was surprised so many were awake. It was quite eerie to take a minute of silence and just listen to them chattering away...in complete darkness. There was absolutely no light in the cave, except for my headlamp. If I shut it off, I couldn't even see my hand in front of my face, literally.

We left the cave as the sky started to spit. Eventually the spitting turned into a rather steady sprinkle, which in turn became a downpour. I puled out my trusty rain jacket; the others looked at me with disgust (having forgotten theirs).

We walked for a while, till we reached the road running through the village of Romanesti. Not much was happening in town, let me tell you. We were hoping against hope that we could hitchhike, but cars were few and far between, at least ones going our way. Funny how Murphy's law works. Any that did come our way just passed on by, apparently unaffected by the sight of 5 wet and tired hikers.

Just as I was resolving to walk the entire way to the main thoroughfare, my legs protesting the idea, I heard a faint rumbling noise, like that of an engine in the distance. I turned around to look behind, and saw a tractor crawling at a snail's pace around the bend. I thought for a brief second, said, "aw heck," and threw out my thumb. The guy driving was obviously amused by the idea that someone would want to hitchhike on his tractor, and he stopped. He happened to be towing a wooden wagon (caruta in Romanian, pronounced 'Karootza'). So we all jumped into the wagon, and held on for the bumpy ride. The rain had turned the dirt on the floor into a greasy mud. It brought back memories of my chilhood, when I would play with the puddles and mud in our driveway. In fact, that was probably the last time I'd gotten so dirty. It didn't help that as the tractor took off, it's spinning wheels flung bits of mud as us. The driver noticed, and threw us his jacket to use as a shield.

The tractor simply crawled along, and the ride seemed to last forever. But, hey, this had to be better than walking, right? Heck, it was more fun! The driver stopped when we reached the main highway, a place where we would surely be able to get another ride. At that intersection was a restaurant called 'El Pepe,' a name which would imply Mexican food (but, alas, none was to be had). We stopped in there, to track our muddy paws to the bathroom and clean off.

From there the ride back to Lugoj was smooth-sailing. Once we arrived home, we capped off our long autumn day with some mulled wine, here called 'vin fiert.'