Thursday, August 30, 2007
Couch-surfing
So I was having a drink last night with a new acquaintence, Lucian. He's my age and works in Timisoara. We were talking about traveling throughout Europe and He was telling me about two 'hospitality' organizations. One is the aptly named Hospitality Club, the other is The Couch Surfing Project. The idea behind both groups is to provide free accommodations for travelers across the globe. Lucian said he traveled across Europe by staying with Couch-Surfing contacts. All he had to do was look up 'couch-surfers' in the cities he planned to visit, contact them and ask them if he could stay a night on their couch (or floor, or whatever). I think it's great idea. Not only do you get free places to stay, but you meet some interesting people and make friends along the way. You provide them with a couch, and someday maybe they'll return the favor. As soon as I get an apartment (and a couch), I can join...
Monday, August 27, 2007
You Know You're in Romania When...
Today Lily told me, "get together all your 'lingerie,' I'm doing the wash" Me: "Sorry, what?" She: "lingerie, you know the things you cover your bed with," and she pointed to a pile of sheets next to the washing machine. No one ever told me the word for sheets in Romanian sounds just like lingerie. Such things are good to know...
I've decided to compile a list of strange things I've experienced (or seen) in Romania:
1. Bread in plastic bags. My gazda in ploiesti and my gazda here in Lugoj both use plastic bags to store bread. They put a bunch of loaves in the bag and hang it off a door knob or something. The problem is the bread tends to get stale.
2. No shower curtains. The majority of showers here lack shower curtains. I had to learn how to shower with out getting water all over the bathroom floor.
3. Cashiers don't enjoy giving change, probably because they often don't have sufficient change. If you can't pay the exact amount, they might look at you, annoyed and perhaps slightly angered. For this reason I'm always afraid to pay for something like a bottle of water with a big bill; I don't want to make the cashier mad at me. It's also common for the cashier to give you candy or gum if they don't have the appropriate coins. Someday I might try paying in candy and see what happens...
4. "Curent." Romanians, at least the older generation, tend to hate being exposed to wind. They believe it causes illness, toothe aches or ear aches. You'll often see people walking about town with cotton stuffed in their ears to prevent the 'curent' from entering (sometimes they use garlic). While riding on trains or in cars, it's often seen as a bad thing to have the windows open. For many people, it's preferable to sweat in the uncomfortable heat than get an ear ache.
5. Ketchup on Pizza. This struck me as odd the first time I heard about it. Romanians enjoy their pizza with a wide variety of ketchups, from spicy to sweet (I'd never seen so many varieties of ketchup till I came here).
6. People ask for the time all the time. On any given day, I can't seem to avoid being stopped on the street by someone wondering what time it is. I've also that noticed public clocks tend to run fast in this town (if they work at all), but people treat them as if they're accurate. I've been "late" to a couple meetings because of this (a popular place for meeting is under the electric clock in the town center, which runs about 10 minutes fast).
7. Many people count on their fingers starting with their thumb. So, for example, one is represented by an extended thumb; two is a thumb and the pointer finger; three is a thumb, pointer and middle finger; and so on...
8. I've witnessed (3 times now) people painting their homes long after sunset. This one really has me stumped. There was one occasion when I was walking home at about 11pm and happened to see a fellow on a ladder painting under the eaves (without a lamp, mind you). I was puzzled, till I saw this again at another house in a different part of town (on two separate occasions). Then I couldn't help but be perplexed. There's no other explanation for what these men were doing. I mean, they each had a can of paint and a brush. Could this be some sort of benign vandalism? The infamous, but little-feared "Eaves Painting Gang?"
9. While waiting in line to pay bills, buy a train ticket etc., I've noticed that people queue up at an oblique angle to the counter, rather than making a perpendicular line. Being accustomed to queues coming straight out from the counter/window, it took me a while to get used to "slanted" lines. It seemed at first that people were trying to cut in front of me because I'd stand more or less straight in line with the server window, and other clients would approach from the side. I've come to realize, however, that they weren't cutting; it's just that our queuing styles were clashing. Also, with regards to waiting in lines, I've noticed that people tend to stand really close to each other-- so close that an American might think his personal space was being invaded. Perhaps this is a tactic to prevent people from cutting in line?
I've decided to compile a list of strange things I've experienced (or seen) in Romania:
1. Bread in plastic bags. My gazda in ploiesti and my gazda here in Lugoj both use plastic bags to store bread. They put a bunch of loaves in the bag and hang it off a door knob or something. The problem is the bread tends to get stale.
2. No shower curtains. The majority of showers here lack shower curtains. I had to learn how to shower with out getting water all over the bathroom floor.
3. Cashiers don't enjoy giving change, probably because they often don't have sufficient change. If you can't pay the exact amount, they might look at you, annoyed and perhaps slightly angered. For this reason I'm always afraid to pay for something like a bottle of water with a big bill; I don't want to make the cashier mad at me. It's also common for the cashier to give you candy or gum if they don't have the appropriate coins. Someday I might try paying in candy and see what happens...
4. "Curent." Romanians, at least the older generation, tend to hate being exposed to wind. They believe it causes illness, toothe aches or ear aches. You'll often see people walking about town with cotton stuffed in their ears to prevent the 'curent' from entering (sometimes they use garlic). While riding on trains or in cars, it's often seen as a bad thing to have the windows open. For many people, it's preferable to sweat in the uncomfortable heat than get an ear ache.
5. Ketchup on Pizza. This struck me as odd the first time I heard about it. Romanians enjoy their pizza with a wide variety of ketchups, from spicy to sweet (I'd never seen so many varieties of ketchup till I came here).
6. People ask for the time all the time. On any given day, I can't seem to avoid being stopped on the street by someone wondering what time it is. I've also that noticed public clocks tend to run fast in this town (if they work at all), but people treat them as if they're accurate. I've been "late" to a couple meetings because of this (a popular place for meeting is under the electric clock in the town center, which runs about 10 minutes fast).
7. Many people count on their fingers starting with their thumb. So, for example, one is represented by an extended thumb; two is a thumb and the pointer finger; three is a thumb, pointer and middle finger; and so on...
8. I've witnessed (3 times now) people painting their homes long after sunset. This one really has me stumped. There was one occasion when I was walking home at about 11pm and happened to see a fellow on a ladder painting under the eaves (without a lamp, mind you). I was puzzled, till I saw this again at another house in a different part of town (on two separate occasions). Then I couldn't help but be perplexed. There's no other explanation for what these men were doing. I mean, they each had a can of paint and a brush. Could this be some sort of benign vandalism? The infamous, but little-feared "Eaves Painting Gang?"
9. While waiting in line to pay bills, buy a train ticket etc., I've noticed that people queue up at an oblique angle to the counter, rather than making a perpendicular line. Being accustomed to queues coming straight out from the counter/window, it took me a while to get used to "slanted" lines. It seemed at first that people were trying to cut in front of me because I'd stand more or less straight in line with the server window, and other clients would approach from the side. I've come to realize, however, that they weren't cutting; it's just that our queuing styles were clashing. Also, with regards to waiting in lines, I've noticed that people tend to stand really close to each other-- so close that an American might think his personal space was being invaded. Perhaps this is a tactic to prevent people from cutting in line?
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Cameron, My Partner in Crime
I’m sorry for the length of this post. It’s what happens when I don't write for a week...
As the title of this entry implies, I spend a lot of time with Cameron, the PCV in Timisoara. He happens to be crazy. But that doesn’t bother me much because I am too.
He came over to Lugoj last Wednesday because we had a big town festival, Zilele Lugojului. My gazda family had friends over and we ate a big lunch. Apparently the day is a big deal in town because it’s also the feast day of Saint Mary, and she’s a sort of patron saint for Lugoj. We ate so much food I nearly popped. It was seriously the fullest I think I’ve ever been. There was soup to start out, then a roasted pepper salad, then chicken, then a second course of chicken (prepared slightly differently), then sarmale (a sort of cabbage roll with sour cabbage, ground pork and rice), and then mashed potatoes with pork schnitzel (fried in an egg batter with mushrooms). As if that wasn’t enough, there were also two cakes and an assortment of finger desserts. Oh yes, and all the while we were drinking cognac and tuica (roughly pronounced ‘soo-eeka,’ it’s a plum brandy famous in Romania). Gelu, my host father, was proud to share the cognac and tuica because he makes them himself at home.
After being stuffed nearly unconscious, Cameron and I loosened our belts and wandered into the center of Lugoj to see what was going on with the festival. There were street vendors on every inch of sidewalk, selling everything from cotton candy to woven baskets. The closest thing I can relate it to from home might be a town or county fair, minus the tractor-pulls and country music. Just imagine all the tents and the crowds. They even had some inflatable rides for the kids. There were also two stages set up, one playing rock music, the other playing traditional Romanian folk music. We checked out both stages. At one point they had a blues-rock band that played a bunch of stuff by Stevie Ray Vaughn, Eric Clapton, and B.B. King. I thought Cameron was insane when he bought a kebob (I was still recovering from lunch).
Cameron had to catch a train before the finale, but the night ended with a band from Timisoara taking the stage. They looked like they’d been around since the 80’s (and if I had to guess I’d say they probably hadn’t cut their hair since then). It also looked like they had been living quite well since their heyday, as their stomachs seemed to attest. And, when they started playing, it was quite apparent that they hadn’t written any new material since the 80’s. I didn’t stick around for more than two of their songs. At the very end of the night they shot some fireworks from alongside the river.
Cameron often calls or texts me when something is happening in the Timisoara that I might want to check out. After all, Timisoara is a happenin’ place, as they say (although, I’m sure they say it in Romanian). So, the day following the festival in Lugoj, he texted me that a former PCV from group 19 was back in Timisoara for a visit. He also mentioned that there was going to be a meeting of the International Friends Club, a sort of loose organization for American ex-pats (as I understood it). All of this seemed interesting, so I hopped an afternoon train and got to Timisoara at about three. Cameron met me at the train station and we walked to the city center, where we were to meet Seth—the former PCV. I don’t know the layout of Timisoara very well, so Cameron led the way to Piata Unirii (pronounced ‘Pee-ot-za Oo-near-ee,’ one of the main squares, and a popular place for meeting).
As little as I knew about the city, I did know that the train station and Piata Unirii are located on the same side of the Timis River. So, something seemed wrong when we crossed the river. I brought this to Cameron’s attention, but he assured me that he knew where he was going. We walked and walked, and then we crossed the river again. So, now we were back on the same side we started. I knew this couldn’t be right. After about 30 minutes we did finally get to the piata, but it certainly wasn’t the most direct route. I wouldn’t have minded nearly half as much if I didn’t have the call of nature at the time. The call started about five minutes into the walk, and, with no prospects for relief anywhere in sight, the call grew ever louder. By the time we reached the city center, it might be fair to say that nature was screaming. It was only later that we found out about another route that would take us directly from the train station to the center in about 10 minutes. Upon this discovery I was sure to thank Cameron for our extended journey (my gratitude was peppered with a bit of sarcasm, as you might imagine). But, on the bright side, I suppose our little jaunt, agonizing as it was, did give me a chance to see more of the city…
But enough about that. We met Seth in the piata, and he brought us to his ‘secret hide-out,’ a little bar tucked away in an alley. The place is quite well hidden, it doesn’t have a sign, and I’m not sure it even has a name. We talked with Seth for a while; he was a good source of advice. He worked in the same school as Cameron, so he was able to give an idea of what it’ll be like. After hanging out at the bar for a while, Cameron and I decided to ditch the Int’l Friends meeting. Staying at the bar seemed a better option, after all the atmosphere was cozy, the wait staff were really kooky, and they had a great playlist on. Cameron and I also went to get some Chinese food that day, and it was surprisingly good. It’s kind of crazy to think I’m in the Peace Corps and yet there are Italian, Chinese, Mexican, and Lebanese restaurants, and even a sushi bar.
Cameron and I got together yet again that following Saturday for a day trip to Baile Herculane (Which means Hercules’s Baths). The town is famous for its thermal springs, which are supposed to be therapeutic. They spew out very hot, very stinky water—well over 100 degrees and rich with the unmistakable stench of sulfur. The Romans built baths on the springs, because I suppose the idea of a hot sulfur bath sounded just too good to pass up. Back then hot water was quite a novel affair. I suppose we take it for granted today. I am, however, thankful that sulfur-scented soap never caught on.
The town of Baile Herculane itself is somewhat unkempt, but the landscape in the area is gorgeous. The town is nestled in the Cerna River Valley, and towering on either side are tremendous rock faces, which rise abruptly like the white walls of Gondor (pardon my LOTR reference). Cameron and I walked the entire length of the town. We found a few swimming pools and a statue of Hercules. We heard that some of the baths were free, but we didn’t really find any buildings that obviously advertised as baths. To be quite honest, I wasn’t looking too hard. On a hot summer day the idea of a steamy bath didn’t sound terribly appealing. We walked down the main street from one end to the other. At some points it narrowed to a width that would be a challenge even for a mini. We walked and walked, and it seemed that we were heading outside the city limits. But, all of a sudden we came around a bend in the road and before us stood a massive hotel, Hotel Roman. It looked like something straight out of the 60’s, probably because it was. Cameron needed a bathroom, so we figured this was a good place to stop. While he was using the facilities, I poked around the hotel a bit and wandered into what I think was a Roman Bath museum. I went back to get Cameron and show him what I’d found. However, when we tried to go back, we were stopped by a woman who tried her best to sell us massages. She asked if we had a “program,” by which I assume she was asking if we had an appointment. I asked if we needed a program, at this point still not sure what she was talking about. “Yes, of course you need a program,” she responded. I told her, “never mind, we’re leaving.” Either she didn’t hear me or she couldn’t understand my broken Romanian, because she kept on mumbling something as she went to retrieve her rate plan and schedule booklet to see where she could fit us in. “12:00 is our next opening, is that good for you?” “No thanks, we don’t want massages, we’d rather just visit a bath.” “Oh, ok. How about 1:00?” “No, really, we just want to visit a bath.” “Oh, is that right? You should go upstairs, they don’t do the massage and it’s cheaper.” Hmmm, I was confused. A bath on the second floor? Something seemed fishy about that. The lady probably misunderstood what I was trying to say. We thanked her and left.
Having escaped from that bizarre conversation, Cameron and I continued on down the road. We finally reached the city limits of Baile Herculane. In Romania they make it quite obvious when you’re exiting a town because they have signs with a big red diagonal line through the town’s name. We stopped for a bit to dip our feet in the Cerna River and eat some musli with granola (which is surprisingly difficult to come by around here). Turning back around towards Hotel Roman we decided to check out some of the hiking trails. I had my Lonely Planet Guide with me, which is usually less-than-useful. It mentioned that there’s a trail behind the hotel that leads to a cave (we never found the cave). The rather ambiguous passage said there’s also a trail starting near Hotel Cerna (back in the center of town), but we never found that trail either. Nevertheless, we did take the trail near Hotel Roman. And, although we never found the cave, we did end up coming across a lookout from where we could see the entire valley. It gave us an idea of how far we had walked that day, which was…quite far.
My feet were quite dirty after the hike because I was wearing Tevas. Luckily, on our way back I happened upon a fountain on the side of the street. It didn’t have a valve, so I guess it flows all the time. I slipped off one of my sandals and stuck my foot under the stream of water. MAN, it was HOT! Silly me, somehow I had forgotten that we were in a place with thermal springs. Needless to say, I was a little more attentive in washing my other foot.
I forgot to mention that on the train ride to Baile Herculane Cameron and I met a fellow who had just completed a 400km bike tour that ended in Timisoara. He lives in Galati, all the way on the other side of Romania. Instead of taking his bike back home with him, he left it with someone in Lugoj. Actually, he told us that he didn’t want it anymore and had no intention of ever picking it up again. This piqued my interest because I just so happen to be in the market for a bike, especially a free bike. He gave me the number of the person holding the bike, but, unfortunately, by the time I called her, she had already given it away. Alas, it was worth a shot. Still, I thought it was cool that I should meet a guy on the train and he offers me a bike.
So, what came next? Well, there was Sunday, but I didn’t do much that day.
On Monday I went grocery shopping with my Gazda, exciting right? We bought cereal, and yogurt and fish in a can. I also bought three stamps for sending letters to the United States. And later in the afternoon I hitched a ride to Timisoara with my Gazda; they go there quite often. I jumped at the opportunity to go because, well, I’d get to see Cameron, of course. And, also becuase some PCVs were visiting (Sonny and Gloria, the only married couple in our group). It was nice to spend some time with them and catch up on what they’ve been doing. They originally started out as TEFL volunteers, but they switched sectors to get involved with more business-related activities. The switch made things a bit hectic for them, but it seems like they’re starting to settle in. They were passing through Timisoara on their way to a Peace Corps conference at the seaside. Lucky them…
After leaving Sonny and Gloria at their hotel, I went to the train station. It was about 9:30pm and much to my disappointment I had just missed the Personal train, which is the cheapest type of train. The cheap trains in Romania are slow, dirty, and have an “interesting” clientele, but, they are cheap. And, being a Peace Corps Volunteer, such things take priority. The next Personal was leaving at 1am. I didn’t feel like waiting that long, so I begrudgingly bought a ticket for a Rapid, which is a higher class, faster and more expensive train. I had an hour to kill before the train arrived, so I went out in front of the station and sat on the steps. It wasn’t long before I was joined by some young men who decided to sit next to me. One of them turned to me and asked “speak English?” I nodded. They sort of murmured amongst themselves, I’m sure wondering who I might be. They were certain I was a foreigner, but they were shocked when they found out I spoke (some) Romanian. They asked me all the usual questions, “Do you like Romania?” “why are you here?” “do you like the women in Romania?” After a while my conversation with them waned and another fellow came by, the self-proclaimed vagabond. He wasn’t dressed badly for a young man (pretty cleanly at least) and he was smoking Marlboros. He offered me some of his beer and started talking to me about Lugoj, which is where he grew up. He told me some vague story about being homeless and living in front of the train station. I didn’t believe him. After a while he left because he had to negotiate a price with the “nasu” (a slang term used to refer to train conductors, which translates as ‘godfather’). It’s not totally uncommon for folks here to get on the train without a ticket and simply bribe the nasu.
On Tuesday I had lunch with my gazda. Lily sort of showed me how to make galuste (I have no idea how to spell that one, pronounced ‘ga-loosh-tay,’ they’re a sort of plum doughnut/dumpling). Lily wouldn’t let me get too hands on because I “don’t know how to help.” I am a man after all, what can I say. The lunch was good. We had “stomach soup,” which was a first for me. Afterwards I went to Flavia’s to visit her and check my email. Her mom happened to be cooking placinta when I arrived (it’s pronounced ‘pla-cheen-ta,’ by the way). Placinta is the Romanian equivalent of pie, though its more like what the folks back home might consider pastry with a flakey crust. Isn’t funny how a lot of the content of my blog seems to revolve around food?
After eating placinta I met with Sorana, one of the contacts that the previous volunteer in Lugoj gave me. She’s a student at a university in Timisoara and a very lively, vibrant personality. She and her friends invited me to get ice cream. We went for walk afterwards and I was telling her about my interest in hiking and camping. I inquired about local spots for such activities. She knew of a few. Much to my surprise, she actually called her dad and asked him to take us to one spot. Nearly immediately he picked us up and whisked us off to an inn on the outskirts of Lugoj (I was amazed at how willing her dad was to do this for me, especially on such short notice). Sorana showed me that there were some trails in the forest behind the inn. They look like they’re worth exploring, at least once. The thing is, most of the terrain in and around Lugoj is depressingly flat, and I like the hills. It’s about a 2 hour train ride to get to more mountainous terrain. We stopped at the inn for a drink, apparently the place is also famous for its pancakes (or the Romanian equivalent thereof). On the way home we stopped by a winery. They had a wall with taps from which you could sample their stock. If you liked a wine enough, you could buy it for 5.5 lei/liter (really cheap). I tried and bought a cabernet. I brought it home and shared it with Gelu. Just as we finished it off, some friends of the family stopped by with more red wine (mind you, this was at 11pm). So, naturally, we drank more. From what I’ve experienced so far, it seems Romanians have no qualms about drinking.
So, that brings us to yesterday. I met with Sorana and her friend Claudia and we went swimming in the Timis River. It wasn’t bad, especially because the weather was so hot. I’d been dying to go swimming; it’s always been such a big part of my summer routine (I have many a fond memory of swimming in Mr. Mayor’s pond, the neighborhood swimming hole back home). But, since I came to Romania, I haven’t had too many opportunities to swim (except in Slanic, but that doesn’t count because it was in a salt water lake and wasn’t terribly refreshing). Without swimming, it hasn’t really felt like summer. But, summer finally came; I finally got to swim. It’s supposed to be even hotter today, so we’ll probably go again.
As the title of this entry implies, I spend a lot of time with Cameron, the PCV in Timisoara. He happens to be crazy. But that doesn’t bother me much because I am too.
He came over to Lugoj last Wednesday because we had a big town festival, Zilele Lugojului. My gazda family had friends over and we ate a big lunch. Apparently the day is a big deal in town because it’s also the feast day of Saint Mary, and she’s a sort of patron saint for Lugoj. We ate so much food I nearly popped. It was seriously the fullest I think I’ve ever been. There was soup to start out, then a roasted pepper salad, then chicken, then a second course of chicken (prepared slightly differently), then sarmale (a sort of cabbage roll with sour cabbage, ground pork and rice), and then mashed potatoes with pork schnitzel (fried in an egg batter with mushrooms). As if that wasn’t enough, there were also two cakes and an assortment of finger desserts. Oh yes, and all the while we were drinking cognac and tuica (roughly pronounced ‘soo-eeka,’ it’s a plum brandy famous in Romania). Gelu, my host father, was proud to share the cognac and tuica because he makes them himself at home.
After being stuffed nearly unconscious, Cameron and I loosened our belts and wandered into the center of Lugoj to see what was going on with the festival. There were street vendors on every inch of sidewalk, selling everything from cotton candy to woven baskets. The closest thing I can relate it to from home might be a town or county fair, minus the tractor-pulls and country music. Just imagine all the tents and the crowds. They even had some inflatable rides for the kids. There were also two stages set up, one playing rock music, the other playing traditional Romanian folk music. We checked out both stages. At one point they had a blues-rock band that played a bunch of stuff by Stevie Ray Vaughn, Eric Clapton, and B.B. King. I thought Cameron was insane when he bought a kebob (I was still recovering from lunch).
Cameron had to catch a train before the finale, but the night ended with a band from Timisoara taking the stage. They looked like they’d been around since the 80’s (and if I had to guess I’d say they probably hadn’t cut their hair since then). It also looked like they had been living quite well since their heyday, as their stomachs seemed to attest. And, when they started playing, it was quite apparent that they hadn’t written any new material since the 80’s. I didn’t stick around for more than two of their songs. At the very end of the night they shot some fireworks from alongside the river.
Cameron often calls or texts me when something is happening in the Timisoara that I might want to check out. After all, Timisoara is a happenin’ place, as they say (although, I’m sure they say it in Romanian). So, the day following the festival in Lugoj, he texted me that a former PCV from group 19 was back in Timisoara for a visit. He also mentioned that there was going to be a meeting of the International Friends Club, a sort of loose organization for American ex-pats (as I understood it). All of this seemed interesting, so I hopped an afternoon train and got to Timisoara at about three. Cameron met me at the train station and we walked to the city center, where we were to meet Seth—the former PCV. I don’t know the layout of Timisoara very well, so Cameron led the way to Piata Unirii (pronounced ‘Pee-ot-za Oo-near-ee,’ one of the main squares, and a popular place for meeting).
As little as I knew about the city, I did know that the train station and Piata Unirii are located on the same side of the Timis River. So, something seemed wrong when we crossed the river. I brought this to Cameron’s attention, but he assured me that he knew where he was going. We walked and walked, and then we crossed the river again. So, now we were back on the same side we started. I knew this couldn’t be right. After about 30 minutes we did finally get to the piata, but it certainly wasn’t the most direct route. I wouldn’t have minded nearly half as much if I didn’t have the call of nature at the time. The call started about five minutes into the walk, and, with no prospects for relief anywhere in sight, the call grew ever louder. By the time we reached the city center, it might be fair to say that nature was screaming. It was only later that we found out about another route that would take us directly from the train station to the center in about 10 minutes. Upon this discovery I was sure to thank Cameron for our extended journey (my gratitude was peppered with a bit of sarcasm, as you might imagine). But, on the bright side, I suppose our little jaunt, agonizing as it was, did give me a chance to see more of the city…
But enough about that. We met Seth in the piata, and he brought us to his ‘secret hide-out,’ a little bar tucked away in an alley. The place is quite well hidden, it doesn’t have a sign, and I’m not sure it even has a name. We talked with Seth for a while; he was a good source of advice. He worked in the same school as Cameron, so he was able to give an idea of what it’ll be like. After hanging out at the bar for a while, Cameron and I decided to ditch the Int’l Friends meeting. Staying at the bar seemed a better option, after all the atmosphere was cozy, the wait staff were really kooky, and they had a great playlist on. Cameron and I also went to get some Chinese food that day, and it was surprisingly good. It’s kind of crazy to think I’m in the Peace Corps and yet there are Italian, Chinese, Mexican, and Lebanese restaurants, and even a sushi bar.
Cameron and I got together yet again that following Saturday for a day trip to Baile Herculane (Which means Hercules’s Baths). The town is famous for its thermal springs, which are supposed to be therapeutic. They spew out very hot, very stinky water—well over 100 degrees and rich with the unmistakable stench of sulfur. The Romans built baths on the springs, because I suppose the idea of a hot sulfur bath sounded just too good to pass up. Back then hot water was quite a novel affair. I suppose we take it for granted today. I am, however, thankful that sulfur-scented soap never caught on.
The town of Baile Herculane itself is somewhat unkempt, but the landscape in the area is gorgeous. The town is nestled in the Cerna River Valley, and towering on either side are tremendous rock faces, which rise abruptly like the white walls of Gondor (pardon my LOTR reference). Cameron and I walked the entire length of the town. We found a few swimming pools and a statue of Hercules. We heard that some of the baths were free, but we didn’t really find any buildings that obviously advertised as baths. To be quite honest, I wasn’t looking too hard. On a hot summer day the idea of a steamy bath didn’t sound terribly appealing. We walked down the main street from one end to the other. At some points it narrowed to a width that would be a challenge even for a mini. We walked and walked, and it seemed that we were heading outside the city limits. But, all of a sudden we came around a bend in the road and before us stood a massive hotel, Hotel Roman. It looked like something straight out of the 60’s, probably because it was. Cameron needed a bathroom, so we figured this was a good place to stop. While he was using the facilities, I poked around the hotel a bit and wandered into what I think was a Roman Bath museum. I went back to get Cameron and show him what I’d found. However, when we tried to go back, we were stopped by a woman who tried her best to sell us massages. She asked if we had a “program,” by which I assume she was asking if we had an appointment. I asked if we needed a program, at this point still not sure what she was talking about. “Yes, of course you need a program,” she responded. I told her, “never mind, we’re leaving.” Either she didn’t hear me or she couldn’t understand my broken Romanian, because she kept on mumbling something as she went to retrieve her rate plan and schedule booklet to see where she could fit us in. “12:00 is our next opening, is that good for you?” “No thanks, we don’t want massages, we’d rather just visit a bath.” “Oh, ok. How about 1:00?” “No, really, we just want to visit a bath.” “Oh, is that right? You should go upstairs, they don’t do the massage and it’s cheaper.” Hmmm, I was confused. A bath on the second floor? Something seemed fishy about that. The lady probably misunderstood what I was trying to say. We thanked her and left.
Having escaped from that bizarre conversation, Cameron and I continued on down the road. We finally reached the city limits of Baile Herculane. In Romania they make it quite obvious when you’re exiting a town because they have signs with a big red diagonal line through the town’s name. We stopped for a bit to dip our feet in the Cerna River and eat some musli with granola (which is surprisingly difficult to come by around here). Turning back around towards Hotel Roman we decided to check out some of the hiking trails. I had my Lonely Planet Guide with me, which is usually less-than-useful. It mentioned that there’s a trail behind the hotel that leads to a cave (we never found the cave). The rather ambiguous passage said there’s also a trail starting near Hotel Cerna (back in the center of town), but we never found that trail either. Nevertheless, we did take the trail near Hotel Roman. And, although we never found the cave, we did end up coming across a lookout from where we could see the entire valley. It gave us an idea of how far we had walked that day, which was…quite far.
My feet were quite dirty after the hike because I was wearing Tevas. Luckily, on our way back I happened upon a fountain on the side of the street. It didn’t have a valve, so I guess it flows all the time. I slipped off one of my sandals and stuck my foot under the stream of water. MAN, it was HOT! Silly me, somehow I had forgotten that we were in a place with thermal springs. Needless to say, I was a little more attentive in washing my other foot.
I forgot to mention that on the train ride to Baile Herculane Cameron and I met a fellow who had just completed a 400km bike tour that ended in Timisoara. He lives in Galati, all the way on the other side of Romania. Instead of taking his bike back home with him, he left it with someone in Lugoj. Actually, he told us that he didn’t want it anymore and had no intention of ever picking it up again. This piqued my interest because I just so happen to be in the market for a bike, especially a free bike. He gave me the number of the person holding the bike, but, unfortunately, by the time I called her, she had already given it away. Alas, it was worth a shot. Still, I thought it was cool that I should meet a guy on the train and he offers me a bike.
So, what came next? Well, there was Sunday, but I didn’t do much that day.
On Monday I went grocery shopping with my Gazda, exciting right? We bought cereal, and yogurt and fish in a can. I also bought three stamps for sending letters to the United States. And later in the afternoon I hitched a ride to Timisoara with my Gazda; they go there quite often. I jumped at the opportunity to go because, well, I’d get to see Cameron, of course. And, also becuase some PCVs were visiting (Sonny and Gloria, the only married couple in our group). It was nice to spend some time with them and catch up on what they’ve been doing. They originally started out as TEFL volunteers, but they switched sectors to get involved with more business-related activities. The switch made things a bit hectic for them, but it seems like they’re starting to settle in. They were passing through Timisoara on their way to a Peace Corps conference at the seaside. Lucky them…
After leaving Sonny and Gloria at their hotel, I went to the train station. It was about 9:30pm and much to my disappointment I had just missed the Personal train, which is the cheapest type of train. The cheap trains in Romania are slow, dirty, and have an “interesting” clientele, but, they are cheap. And, being a Peace Corps Volunteer, such things take priority. The next Personal was leaving at 1am. I didn’t feel like waiting that long, so I begrudgingly bought a ticket for a Rapid, which is a higher class, faster and more expensive train. I had an hour to kill before the train arrived, so I went out in front of the station and sat on the steps. It wasn’t long before I was joined by some young men who decided to sit next to me. One of them turned to me and asked “speak English?” I nodded. They sort of murmured amongst themselves, I’m sure wondering who I might be. They were certain I was a foreigner, but they were shocked when they found out I spoke (some) Romanian. They asked me all the usual questions, “Do you like Romania?” “why are you here?” “do you like the women in Romania?” After a while my conversation with them waned and another fellow came by, the self-proclaimed vagabond. He wasn’t dressed badly for a young man (pretty cleanly at least) and he was smoking Marlboros. He offered me some of his beer and started talking to me about Lugoj, which is where he grew up. He told me some vague story about being homeless and living in front of the train station. I didn’t believe him. After a while he left because he had to negotiate a price with the “nasu” (a slang term used to refer to train conductors, which translates as ‘godfather’). It’s not totally uncommon for folks here to get on the train without a ticket and simply bribe the nasu.
On Tuesday I had lunch with my gazda. Lily sort of showed me how to make galuste (I have no idea how to spell that one, pronounced ‘ga-loosh-tay,’ they’re a sort of plum doughnut/dumpling). Lily wouldn’t let me get too hands on because I “don’t know how to help.” I am a man after all, what can I say. The lunch was good. We had “stomach soup,” which was a first for me. Afterwards I went to Flavia’s to visit her and check my email. Her mom happened to be cooking placinta when I arrived (it’s pronounced ‘pla-cheen-ta,’ by the way). Placinta is the Romanian equivalent of pie, though its more like what the folks back home might consider pastry with a flakey crust. Isn’t funny how a lot of the content of my blog seems to revolve around food?
After eating placinta I met with Sorana, one of the contacts that the previous volunteer in Lugoj gave me. She’s a student at a university in Timisoara and a very lively, vibrant personality. She and her friends invited me to get ice cream. We went for walk afterwards and I was telling her about my interest in hiking and camping. I inquired about local spots for such activities. She knew of a few. Much to my surprise, she actually called her dad and asked him to take us to one spot. Nearly immediately he picked us up and whisked us off to an inn on the outskirts of Lugoj (I was amazed at how willing her dad was to do this for me, especially on such short notice). Sorana showed me that there were some trails in the forest behind the inn. They look like they’re worth exploring, at least once. The thing is, most of the terrain in and around Lugoj is depressingly flat, and I like the hills. It’s about a 2 hour train ride to get to more mountainous terrain. We stopped at the inn for a drink, apparently the place is also famous for its pancakes (or the Romanian equivalent thereof). On the way home we stopped by a winery. They had a wall with taps from which you could sample their stock. If you liked a wine enough, you could buy it for 5.5 lei/liter (really cheap). I tried and bought a cabernet. I brought it home and shared it with Gelu. Just as we finished it off, some friends of the family stopped by with more red wine (mind you, this was at 11pm). So, naturally, we drank more. From what I’ve experienced so far, it seems Romanians have no qualms about drinking.
So, that brings us to yesterday. I met with Sorana and her friend Claudia and we went swimming in the Timis River. It wasn’t bad, especially because the weather was so hot. I’d been dying to go swimming; it’s always been such a big part of my summer routine (I have many a fond memory of swimming in Mr. Mayor’s pond, the neighborhood swimming hole back home). But, since I came to Romania, I haven’t had too many opportunities to swim (except in Slanic, but that doesn’t count because it was in a salt water lake and wasn’t terribly refreshing). Without swimming, it hasn’t really felt like summer. But, summer finally came; I finally got to swim. It’s supposed to be even hotter today, so we’ll probably go again.
Monday, August 13, 2007
Life, post-training
So it’s a rainy Monday in Lugoj. I’ve been done with training for over two weeks now. Although, I’ve been so busy it feels like less than that. I arrived at site, after a long, severely-delayed train ride with my friend Cameron, who is stationed in a city nearby me. One highlight of the ride was traveling alongside a stretch of the Danube and looking over at Serbia.
So, I expected my first day after arriving at site to be a lazy day of unpacking, and maybe exploring Lugoj a bit. However, instead my new gazda family stuffed me into their car to take me to Timisoara. My new gazda, with whom I’ll be staying for a month, is composed of a mother (Lily), father (Gelu), and a daughter (Raluca). Gelu’s parents also live in an adjacent house, along with his grandparents (at least I think, I’m not quite sure on the living arrangements or how many people live here—they pretty much keep to themselves). Everyone has been really nice so far and have done everything they can to make me comfortable. But anyway, I digress. So I found myself in Timisoara (pronounced “Tee-mee-shwara”), which is a big city of about 300,000 an hour West of me. Gelu went because he had to get the air conditioning in the car fixed. Lily went because she works every day in the city. The plan was for me to tag along with Raluca and her friend to explore some of the city. It’s quite a pleasant city, but I didn’t get too see too much of it, especially because tagging along with teenage girls meant I was subjected to extended periods of clothes shopping. I should have expected it. So, after I’d had enough, I left the girls and met up with Cameron (one of the PCVs in Timisoara). We ended up walking around for a while. Since neither of us knew the city layout terribly well, it was like the blind leading the blind. Good times.
I only stayed in Lugoj for a few days because on the 2nd of August I went up into the mountains for a camp. Before leaving I spent some time at my counterpart’s house. Her name is Flavia, and I have been paired with her because she’s an English teacher at my school. The Peace Corps pairs each of its volunteers with a counterpart from their local community to make the volunteer’s integration a bit easier. Flavia has already introduced me to some key community members and she has helped me with many things, even buying train tickets. It will especially nice to have her as a guide once the school year begins. Before I left for camp, I went over to her house because she has an internet connection. I got to meet her parents and her dogs. Both her parents are doctors, but only her father still practices. Her mother is one hell of a cook, and every time I go over, she always has something good to eat. I told Flavia about the camp I was going to and told her about the American tradition of making s’mores around the campfire. I asked her if she’d heard of marshmallows, and to my surprise, she had. In fact, she even knew a place where I could buy some. And, better yet, the place was right here in Lugoj!! So, we went to buy them. I was a little disappointed because they were much smaller and colored differently than the marshmallows I was used to in the States. But I roasted a few on the stove at her house, and they tasted exactly the same. The other problem was finding graham crackers. I’m pretty sure they don’t exist in Romania. But, after a lot of searching I was able to find some honey biscuits at a little shop which seemed pretty comparable in size and texture (the main problem is that most of the cookies in Romania are about the size of a Fig Newton, simply not big enough for s’mores). Luckily, the third ingredient, chocolate, is readily available in Romania. After collecting everything I needed, I was excited; the kids at camp would be able to make s’mores!
There was one volunteer in Lugoj before me. Unfortunately he left just before I arrived. In fact I was on the train coming, as he was on the train going. He left me a letter with notes on what work he’d done (and some contacts) as well as a bunch of stuff (all of which I haven’t looked through yet, but there were some books, a Microsoft Office 2003 user’s manual—good for some light bedtime reading, a cheese grader, staples, a blanket, a toaster, an umbrella, a mini tripod, and some other assorted and very random objects). He left the notes and the items with a girl he worked with here in Lugoj named Sorana. Sorana and I looked over the things he had left for me and just laughed. It was strangely like Christmas, though with very weird gifts.
The next day I left for the Camp. It was in the mountains about 5 hours away. I met another member of group 23 there, my buddy Dan. We thought it was going to be a rock climbing camp, as the website had lead us to believe, but we soon discovered otherwise. The night we arrived at the train station, we were met by two of the people from the camp. They drove us in an old Nissan Pathfinder up an old, poorly maintained mountain road. The route was extremely winding, and bumpy. I thought it was sort of funny because Dan had been on the train for 12 hours and really had to pee, so the bumps didn’t really help his situation. I imagine he’ll eventually read this and just shake his head that I’m telling the world about this. Dan and I are good friends, it’s really too bad we’ve been assigned to sites on the opposite ends of Romania.
So eventually we got to the Cabana on the mountain where the camp was. Oh, I forgot to mention that the Nissan’s headlights were sporadically flickering on and off throughout the entire ride, which added another element of suspense. When we got to the cabana, we were shown our room, which was basically of hotel quality. It had a bathroom AND a shower AND toilette paper—well beyond my expectations. When we met with the other counselors, they told us a little bit about the “climbing” schedule for the next day. Dan and I were excited about trying our hands at climbing. The next morning we just went for a hike with the kids. Dan and I were a bit confused, but we figured the climbing was going to happen in the afternoon. Instead, we had lunch, a three-hour nap (the nap happened every day after lunch, and I quickly became a fan) and in the evening, a lecture on ecology (in Romanian, of course). So, the entire day went by without any “climbing,” as I might define it. Dan and I soon discovered that Romanians loosely translate hiking as “climbing.” This is just a small example of my many cultural misunderstandings.
But anyway, apparently the camp does in fact have “rock climbing” programs, but not for the particular group we were with. Instead we just hiked a lot. On the second day, after hiking a 7000+ ft. mountain (Carja), the main leader, Peter (a biology professor from Cluj, and a very interesting guy) told the kids that they’d be going to the “disco” later that evening. Dan and I were confused again. Could there really be a disco on this mountain? Maybe they were going to take the kids to the nearby town? Or, maybe “disco” meant something completely different in Romanian and we were misunderstanding. Maybe when they said “let’s go to the disco” they meant “ok, time for bed!” We didn’t know; we figured we’d just wait and see. Our experience with “climbing” proved we had a lot to learn about Romanian expressions. But sure enough, after Peter gave his last talk of the night, he sent the kids off to the disco. Curious, Dan and I followed, and discovered that right next to the cabana was a disco, complete with lights and a fully-stocked bar. I mean we were surprised to find toilette paper at this camp, but a disco too???!!! Apparently this place was full of surprises. I’ve discovered that Romanians are quite fond of the disco.
The day we did that higher elevation hike, up the 7000 foot mountain, the fog rolled in quite heavily. It was nice and cold that day (maybe about 40 degrees F, a nice change after the stifling heat in Ploiesti). But, the fog was so thick at times I couldn’t see three people in front of me on the trail, and water droplets formed in my hair and on my clothes. We were able to make it back to the cabana just before the rain came (literally minutes before). But, unfortunately, the rain wasn’t a passing fad, and the fog stuck around too. As you can imagine, this put a damper on our hiking program. We ended up sleeping even more, and playing games with the kids, including chess and some Romanian card games (0ne of which is identical to UNO). There was also a sort of arts and crafts session, in which Dan and I made a poster of our experience hiking with the kids: a picture of us hiking in a line on the trail, with all the kids saying things in Romanian (actual quotes from the trail) and Dan and I—the two Americans—at the end, puzzled over what everyone is saying (which is sort of silly, because obviously we did understand).
So, I expected my first day after arriving at site to be a lazy day of unpacking, and maybe exploring Lugoj a bit. However, instead my new gazda family stuffed me into their car to take me to Timisoara. My new gazda, with whom I’ll be staying for a month, is composed of a mother (Lily), father (Gelu), and a daughter (Raluca). Gelu’s parents also live in an adjacent house, along with his grandparents (at least I think, I’m not quite sure on the living arrangements or how many people live here—they pretty much keep to themselves). Everyone has been really nice so far and have done everything they can to make me comfortable. But anyway, I digress. So I found myself in Timisoara (pronounced “Tee-mee-shwara”), which is a big city of about 300,000 an hour West of me. Gelu went because he had to get the air conditioning in the car fixed. Lily went because she works every day in the city. The plan was for me to tag along with Raluca and her friend to explore some of the city. It’s quite a pleasant city, but I didn’t get too see too much of it, especially because tagging along with teenage girls meant I was subjected to extended periods of clothes shopping. I should have expected it. So, after I’d had enough, I left the girls and met up with Cameron (one of the PCVs in Timisoara). We ended up walking around for a while. Since neither of us knew the city layout terribly well, it was like the blind leading the blind. Good times.
I only stayed in Lugoj for a few days because on the 2nd of August I went up into the mountains for a camp. Before leaving I spent some time at my counterpart’s house. Her name is Flavia, and I have been paired with her because she’s an English teacher at my school. The Peace Corps pairs each of its volunteers with a counterpart from their local community to make the volunteer’s integration a bit easier. Flavia has already introduced me to some key community members and she has helped me with many things, even buying train tickets. It will especially nice to have her as a guide once the school year begins. Before I left for camp, I went over to her house because she has an internet connection. I got to meet her parents and her dogs. Both her parents are doctors, but only her father still practices. Her mother is one hell of a cook, and every time I go over, she always has something good to eat. I told Flavia about the camp I was going to and told her about the American tradition of making s’mores around the campfire. I asked her if she’d heard of marshmallows, and to my surprise, she had. In fact, she even knew a place where I could buy some. And, better yet, the place was right here in Lugoj!! So, we went to buy them. I was a little disappointed because they were much smaller and colored differently than the marshmallows I was used to in the States. But I roasted a few on the stove at her house, and they tasted exactly the same. The other problem was finding graham crackers. I’m pretty sure they don’t exist in Romania. But, after a lot of searching I was able to find some honey biscuits at a little shop which seemed pretty comparable in size and texture (the main problem is that most of the cookies in Romania are about the size of a Fig Newton, simply not big enough for s’mores). Luckily, the third ingredient, chocolate, is readily available in Romania. After collecting everything I needed, I was excited; the kids at camp would be able to make s’mores!
There was one volunteer in Lugoj before me. Unfortunately he left just before I arrived. In fact I was on the train coming, as he was on the train going. He left me a letter with notes on what work he’d done (and some contacts) as well as a bunch of stuff (all of which I haven’t looked through yet, but there were some books, a Microsoft Office 2003 user’s manual—good for some light bedtime reading, a cheese grader, staples, a blanket, a toaster, an umbrella, a mini tripod, and some other assorted and very random objects). He left the notes and the items with a girl he worked with here in Lugoj named Sorana. Sorana and I looked over the things he had left for me and just laughed. It was strangely like Christmas, though with very weird gifts.
The next day I left for the Camp. It was in the mountains about 5 hours away. I met another member of group 23 there, my buddy Dan. We thought it was going to be a rock climbing camp, as the website had lead us to believe, but we soon discovered otherwise. The night we arrived at the train station, we were met by two of the people from the camp. They drove us in an old Nissan Pathfinder up an old, poorly maintained mountain road. The route was extremely winding, and bumpy. I thought it was sort of funny because Dan had been on the train for 12 hours and really had to pee, so the bumps didn’t really help his situation. I imagine he’ll eventually read this and just shake his head that I’m telling the world about this. Dan and I are good friends, it’s really too bad we’ve been assigned to sites on the opposite ends of Romania.
So eventually we got to the Cabana on the mountain where the camp was. Oh, I forgot to mention that the Nissan’s headlights were sporadically flickering on and off throughout the entire ride, which added another element of suspense. When we got to the cabana, we were shown our room, which was basically of hotel quality. It had a bathroom AND a shower AND toilette paper—well beyond my expectations. When we met with the other counselors, they told us a little bit about the “climbing” schedule for the next day. Dan and I were excited about trying our hands at climbing. The next morning we just went for a hike with the kids. Dan and I were a bit confused, but we figured the climbing was going to happen in the afternoon. Instead, we had lunch, a three-hour nap (the nap happened every day after lunch, and I quickly became a fan) and in the evening, a lecture on ecology (in Romanian, of course). So, the entire day went by without any “climbing,” as I might define it. Dan and I soon discovered that Romanians loosely translate hiking as “climbing.” This is just a small example of my many cultural misunderstandings.
But anyway, apparently the camp does in fact have “rock climbing” programs, but not for the particular group we were with. Instead we just hiked a lot. On the second day, after hiking a 7000+ ft. mountain (Carja), the main leader, Peter (a biology professor from Cluj, and a very interesting guy) told the kids that they’d be going to the “disco” later that evening. Dan and I were confused again. Could there really be a disco on this mountain? Maybe they were going to take the kids to the nearby town? Or, maybe “disco” meant something completely different in Romanian and we were misunderstanding. Maybe when they said “let’s go to the disco” they meant “ok, time for bed!” We didn’t know; we figured we’d just wait and see. Our experience with “climbing” proved we had a lot to learn about Romanian expressions. But sure enough, after Peter gave his last talk of the night, he sent the kids off to the disco. Curious, Dan and I followed, and discovered that right next to the cabana was a disco, complete with lights and a fully-stocked bar. I mean we were surprised to find toilette paper at this camp, but a disco too???!!! Apparently this place was full of surprises. I’ve discovered that Romanians are quite fond of the disco.
The day we did that higher elevation hike, up the 7000 foot mountain, the fog rolled in quite heavily. It was nice and cold that day (maybe about 40 degrees F, a nice change after the stifling heat in Ploiesti). But, the fog was so thick at times I couldn’t see three people in front of me on the trail, and water droplets formed in my hair and on my clothes. We were able to make it back to the cabana just before the rain came (literally minutes before). But, unfortunately, the rain wasn’t a passing fad, and the fog stuck around too. As you can imagine, this put a damper on our hiking program. We ended up sleeping even more, and playing games with the kids, including chess and some Romanian card games (0ne of which is identical to UNO). There was also a sort of arts and crafts session, in which Dan and I made a poster of our experience hiking with the kids: a picture of us hiking in a line on the trail, with all the kids saying things in Romanian (actual quotes from the trail) and Dan and I—the two Americans—at the end, puzzled over what everyone is saying (which is sort of silly, because obviously we did understand).
The Poster, sorry that it's a little fuzzy. The guy at the front of the line is our leader, Peter, yelling at a kid to get going ("Hai sa mergem!"), the kid simply responds, "am murit" (I've died).
I have just a few pictures from the camp; I wasn't able to take too many because of the rain. But, I did get some shots of the fog...
I have just a few pictures from the camp; I wasn't able to take too many because of the rain. But, I did get some shots of the fog...
In this picture the fog was pretty mild. Usually it was more like pea soup.
The kids from the camp. They ranged in age from 10-16
It rained and rained (in fact, as I write this it’s still wet outside, which is quite a change from two weeks ago when it was drought-like). I began to get worried because it looked like we wouldn’t have a chance to make a camp fire for the s’mores. But, luckily on the last night there was a break in the weather and we did manage to make the fire. It seemed like the kids really liked the s’mores.
I returned to site on the evening of last Wednesday, and decided I to go Cluj for the weekend. So I only spent one day at site before going to Cluj. I left at the ungodly hour of 5 in the morning and got to Cluj shortly after noon. I took a train route that went through the towns of my friends Mandy and Noelle, who were also going to Cluj, so we could take the train together. While we we in Cluj there was more rain, and then some rain. Additionally, we found a place called the “Infuriated Doughnut” (Gogoasa Infuriata), which I thought was a great name for some reason. The city itself is quite beautiful, and seemed to have the most “western feel” of any other city I’ve seen in Romania. It seems like there's a lot going on there, probably because of the large university population. We stayed with some other PCV’s who have an amazing apartment, nicer than many I’ve seen in the US. We cooked dinner our last night there as a way of saying thank-you to our hosts. It was a sort of Mexican concoction, with chicken, beans, rice, tomatoes, garlic, lime juice and chili-powder (no cumin to be found in Romania). We also made some pretty sweet guacamoli. We couldn't find tortilla chips, so we substituted with some less-than-brilliant wheat-crackers.
So, now I’m back. Time to finally explore Lugoj…
Monday, July 30, 2007
At Site
Well, here I am in Lugoj. Swear-in was on last Friday. So, training is now over and I'm officially a Peace Corps volunteer. I'm just settling in at this point (I arrived last night). I'm actually leaving again on Thursday for a camp in the Mountains.
More to come...
More to come...
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Hike to the Cross!
The weekend before last a few friends and I hiked up to the summit of Cairaman in Busteni, a town in South Eastern Transylvania. The first time I went to Busteni I had planned to hike, but it rained so hard that we never ended up hiking. This time, however, the weather was perfect and the hike turned out to be a complete success.
Somewhere about 7,000 feet above sea level, at the top of the mountain, is a giant WWI memorial cross. The cross was our goal for the day. We could have taken a cable car up to it (for the hefty price of 21 lei). We instead decided to save our money and give our legs a workout.
It was a spectacular hike. The weather, as I mentioned, was great. The views were also amazing. It took us about 3.5 hours to get up to the top, not including our hour-long lunch (which we had in a mountain-top meadow). It was a lot of elevation to gain in such a short period of time, so as you might imagine, the trail was very steep. My legs could attest to that fact after the day was done. There were some points where they had chains and cables to help hikers scramble up the rock faces.
When we got to the top, we sat at the base of the cross for a while and rested. We then hiked along a plateau to the famous Bucegi Sphinx, or Sfinxul Bucegilui (Bucegi, pronounced "Boo-chedge," is the name of the mountain range in the area). The Sphinx is essentially a large rock outcropping whose shape resembles a face after having been erroded by wind and water.
At this point we were close to the cable-car house, and one of our party decided she would take the it back down, since she had recently sprained her ankle and it was bothering her. We all decided to go with her. That is, until we opened the door to the cable car cabana and discovered hundreds of other people stacked in line. Some of us decided to wait it out. The rest of us, gluttons for punishment, decided to make the trek back down the mountain. It was hard enough coming up, and being so steep, I wasn't exactly looking forward to making the descent. But we B-lined it down in about 2 hours. While on the trail, we waved at every cable car that passed above us, thinking perhaps our friends were inside.
Just as we got to the base of the mountain we saw a cable car pull into the station there. We thought it would be funny if our friends were in that particualr car, but we knew the chances of this were slim. We were sure they had arrived at the base well in advance of us and were probably on a train home by that point.
But, much to our surprise, they emerged from the building just as we passed by. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. In the two hours it took us to schlep down the mountain, they had been waiting in line. I was simply amazed that we all made it down at the same time.
Here are some pictures, courtesy of my friend Dan:
Somewhere about 7,000 feet above sea level, at the top of the mountain, is a giant WWI memorial cross. The cross was our goal for the day. We could have taken a cable car up to it (for the hefty price of 21 lei). We instead decided to save our money and give our legs a workout.
It was a spectacular hike. The weather, as I mentioned, was great. The views were also amazing. It took us about 3.5 hours to get up to the top, not including our hour-long lunch (which we had in a mountain-top meadow). It was a lot of elevation to gain in such a short period of time, so as you might imagine, the trail was very steep. My legs could attest to that fact after the day was done. There were some points where they had chains and cables to help hikers scramble up the rock faces.
When we got to the top, we sat at the base of the cross for a while and rested. We then hiked along a plateau to the famous Bucegi Sphinx, or Sfinxul Bucegilui (Bucegi, pronounced "Boo-chedge," is the name of the mountain range in the area). The Sphinx is essentially a large rock outcropping whose shape resembles a face after having been erroded by wind and water.
At this point we were close to the cable-car house, and one of our party decided she would take the it back down, since she had recently sprained her ankle and it was bothering her. We all decided to go with her. That is, until we opened the door to the cable car cabana and discovered hundreds of other people stacked in line. Some of us decided to wait it out. The rest of us, gluttons for punishment, decided to make the trek back down the mountain. It was hard enough coming up, and being so steep, I wasn't exactly looking forward to making the descent. But we B-lined it down in about 2 hours. While on the trail, we waved at every cable car that passed above us, thinking perhaps our friends were inside.
Just as we got to the base of the mountain we saw a cable car pull into the station there. We thought it would be funny if our friends were in that particualr car, but we knew the chances of this were slim. We were sure they had arrived at the base well in advance of us and were probably on a train home by that point.
But, much to our surprise, they emerged from the building just as we passed by. The timing couldn't have been more perfect. In the two hours it took us to schlep down the mountain, they had been waiting in line. I was simply amazed that we all made it down at the same time.
Here are some pictures, courtesy of my friend Dan:
The town of Busteni, as seen from the top of the mountain
The Cross
The Sphinx
Me on top of the Sphinx
Sheep
The cable car
Monday, July 16, 2007
Remedies for Wind
So, a few weeks ago I came home late after being out with friends. It was about midnight or so. I walked through the front door, quietly as to not wake up anyone. However, I discovered Vili sitting in the kitchen, wide awake. He told me his tooth hurt. Apparently he had been sitting in the living room with the window and door open, which caused a cross-current in the room. The "curent," as it's called in Romanian, is the bane of man's existence. It's often the source of many bodily ailments, from simple colds to mildly more exotic things. Vili explained that the curent had entered his right ear and had settled in one of his teeth, causing him severe pain. I gave him my condolences, and being quite tired I headed off to the bathroom to wash up before bed.
My normal nighttime routine usually involves washing my face and brushing my teeth. All quite normal I venture to guess. In the process of completing these tasks I tend to lean on the sink. Such a posture worked for me every other night, but not this particular night. This time the sink ripped off the wall. All the items that were placed on the sink (cups, toothbrushes, soap, etc) went flying. Quite a nice surprise at 12:30 in the morning! Luckily I caught the sink before it hit the ground. Unfortunately, however, the drain ripped out of the wall as well, and water was leaking everywhere. Not sure exactly what to do with it, I put the sink in the tub. You can imagine all this made quite a bit of noise.
I figured this was a fairly serious issue, and something my gazda should know about right away, so I went back into the kitchen. It was there I found Vili and Florina in a heated argument. Vili was sitting at the kitchen table, Florina was standing over him with a pair of tweezers and a flashlight. When she saw me enter the room Florina motioned for me to come quickly. She gave me the flashlight and instructed me to shine it into Vili's ear, while spreading it open a bit so she could get the tweezers inside. I noticed a big white thing in his ear. Needless to say, I thought this was quite strange, but I was so overwhelmed with the oddity of the situation that I couldn't even manage to ask any questions. Florina spent several minutes poking and prodding at this white thing, trying to extract it from Vili's ear. I thought perhaps it was a huge piece of earwax, but that didn't seem right. It was far too white. I thought, 'poor Vili, first heart problems, then a tooth ache, and now this strange ear affliction. He doesn't even know his sink is broken yet.'
The tweezers weren't quite working, so Florina decided to stab the thing with a toothpick. I noticed by the expression on his face that this caused Vili a lot of pain. It was at this point that I contemplated that the white thing might be Vili's eardrum. I had never seen an eardrum, but who knew. You can imagine my horror!
Eventually Florina succeeded in getting the thing out. She held it up in front of me, with a look of victory and relief on her face. I looked at it, still not sure if it was a chunk of earwax, perhaps the most enormous and whitest chunk I had ever seen. Then the smell hit me. It was garlic, a clove of garlic! I still had no idea what was going on. Florina and Vili simply laughed at me, apparently amused by my look of disgust and utter confusion.
It was then that they explained to me that garlic is used as a remedy for curent. Its funny how cultural differences can catch you off guard. Or at least its funny now, looking back on it. One thing's for sure, this whole experience taught me to avoid "herbal" Eustachian remedies.
So Vile's ear issue was resolved, but I still had a problem in the bathroom. As it turned out, they were very understanding about the sink (apparently it wasn't the first time it'd happened). It was definitely a late night for all of us. But certainly an interesting one.
P.S. the sink has been fixed, and Vile's tooth seems better. They've also been much more fastidious in keeping the windows shut. Of course, this doesn't make the hot weather any easier to bear. But I guess sometimes you've just got to sweat your butt off in the name of cultural integration.
My normal nighttime routine usually involves washing my face and brushing my teeth. All quite normal I venture to guess. In the process of completing these tasks I tend to lean on the sink. Such a posture worked for me every other night, but not this particular night. This time the sink ripped off the wall. All the items that were placed on the sink (cups, toothbrushes, soap, etc) went flying. Quite a nice surprise at 12:30 in the morning! Luckily I caught the sink before it hit the ground. Unfortunately, however, the drain ripped out of the wall as well, and water was leaking everywhere. Not sure exactly what to do with it, I put the sink in the tub. You can imagine all this made quite a bit of noise.
I figured this was a fairly serious issue, and something my gazda should know about right away, so I went back into the kitchen. It was there I found Vili and Florina in a heated argument. Vili was sitting at the kitchen table, Florina was standing over him with a pair of tweezers and a flashlight. When she saw me enter the room Florina motioned for me to come quickly. She gave me the flashlight and instructed me to shine it into Vili's ear, while spreading it open a bit so she could get the tweezers inside. I noticed a big white thing in his ear. Needless to say, I thought this was quite strange, but I was so overwhelmed with the oddity of the situation that I couldn't even manage to ask any questions. Florina spent several minutes poking and prodding at this white thing, trying to extract it from Vili's ear. I thought perhaps it was a huge piece of earwax, but that didn't seem right. It was far too white. I thought, 'poor Vili, first heart problems, then a tooth ache, and now this strange ear affliction. He doesn't even know his sink is broken yet.'
The tweezers weren't quite working, so Florina decided to stab the thing with a toothpick. I noticed by the expression on his face that this caused Vili a lot of pain. It was at this point that I contemplated that the white thing might be Vili's eardrum. I had never seen an eardrum, but who knew. You can imagine my horror!
Eventually Florina succeeded in getting the thing out. She held it up in front of me, with a look of victory and relief on her face. I looked at it, still not sure if it was a chunk of earwax, perhaps the most enormous and whitest chunk I had ever seen. Then the smell hit me. It was garlic, a clove of garlic! I still had no idea what was going on. Florina and Vili simply laughed at me, apparently amused by my look of disgust and utter confusion.
It was then that they explained to me that garlic is used as a remedy for curent. Its funny how cultural differences can catch you off guard. Or at least its funny now, looking back on it. One thing's for sure, this whole experience taught me to avoid "herbal" Eustachian remedies.
So Vile's ear issue was resolved, but I still had a problem in the bathroom. As it turned out, they were very understanding about the sink (apparently it wasn't the first time it'd happened). It was definitely a late night for all of us. But certainly an interesting one.
P.S. the sink has been fixed, and Vile's tooth seems better. They've also been much more fastidious in keeping the windows shut. Of course, this doesn't make the hot weather any easier to bear. But I guess sometimes you've just got to sweat your butt off in the name of cultural integration.
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
Site Announcement!
Yesterday was the big day! I found out where I'll be living for the next two years!
And my site is.....(drum roll pleeeeease)
Lugoj!!! It's a small city of about 50,000 in the west of Romania, just outside Transylvania, in the region known as the Banat. Its an old Hapsburg town, with lots of Bavarian architecture. I'll be teaching in a highschool that has a significant German-speaking population. I know very few details at this point. But, be assured that more details are to follow (I'll visit the city next week)...
And my site is.....(drum roll pleeeeease)
Lugoj!!! It's a small city of about 50,000 in the west of Romania, just outside Transylvania, in the region known as the Banat. Its an old Hapsburg town, with lots of Bavarian architecture. I'll be teaching in a highschool that has a significant German-speaking population. I know very few details at this point. But, be assured that more details are to follow (I'll visit the city next week)...
The Catch-up
So I feel like I need to give a synopsis of what I've been up to these past weeks. Its been a busy few weeks. Language classes are plugging along. We had a mid-training oral evaluation two weeks ago and I did pretty well. Before that we had two weeks of practicum teaching, in which my fellow trainees and I spent one week teaching middle school classes, and then another week teaching at the highschool level. Everything went pretty well, but I discovered that I like highschool better than middle school. I like to be able to engage the students on an intellectual level, which is possible with more advanced speakers. With the highschoolers I did a pretty successful lesson in which we analyzed the song "Hotel California."
(a portion of our 9th-10th grade class)
Vile's health seems to be deteriorating quickly. He spent two weeks in Bucharest for some tests. He has a number of problems, but his most serious is something related to his heart. It's hard to get concrete details from him beacuse, fisrtly, he doesn't like to talk about it, and, secondly, there's a bit of a language barrier between us. As far as I understand, he'll be going in for bypass surgery on July 11th. He has good days and bad days (more bad days than good, especially in this heat. He spends most of is time in bed). Surgery in this country is supposed to be free, but it rarely is. As my tata put it, if you want "good surgery," you have to pay the doctor. Vile and Florina have been concerned about the financial strains that surgery might cause them. They've appealed to several charity societies, but have come up empty-handed each time. So, I decided to start a collection among my Peace Corps colleagues. I realize we're all pretty strapped for cash, but I figure some money, no matter how little, is better than none at all. In the very least it'll be a nice gesture and a sign of our emotional support.
A few weekends ago Ploiesti had a festival known as Zilele Orasului Ploiesti (which basically translates to "The Days of the Ploiesti City," or more simply, "Ploiesti Days." Its basically a celebration of the begining of summer. They had bands playing in the town center (mainly traditional Romanian folk bands), and they set up a beer garden in the park nearby. There was also a rock concert in a park on the outskirts of town. The concert is known as Moto-Rock, beacuse everyone comes with their motorcycles and camps out for two nights. I stayed for one night and saw some of Romania's premier rock bands. It was good to know that rock does exist in Romania. The techno-pop played on every radio station made me doubt I'd ever hear rock again. But, Moto-rock gave me hope. Zilele Orasului Ploiesti lasted all weekend, until the finale on Sunday night at midnight, at which time they had a massive fireworks spectacle. It was great, especially considering the fireworks (pocnitoare) were shooting right over my bloc while I was trying to get a good night's sleep for my first day of practicum (the following day).
(The terasa/beer garden they set up in the center)
(Daria, the daughter of a close friend of my Gazda, taken during the festivities of Ploiesti Days)
The next weekend I went with a group to a town north-west of Ploiesti, known as Busteni. We planned to hike to a waterfall, but it started raining , or rather 'monsooning.' So, needless to say, we didn't get to do much hiking. We did, however, get to know some of the local drinking establishments.
(the Busteni station)
The following weekend I went with a group of about 20 trainees to a small village known as Oaurja (near the city of Pitesti, which is west of Ploiesti). We worked on a habitat for Humanity project. I helped put a tin roof on a woodshed. That took most of the day on Saturday. After we finished they told us we were the best Peace Corps group they had ever worked with. Sunday I spent the day in Bucharest with a few friends. We wandered around and got lunch at a shaorma stand (shoarma is my new favorite street food, its like an eastern-european/lebanese taco, and it has EVERYTHING on it, including french fries). After lunch, we stopped by the house of one of the language teachers who lives in Bucharest.
(I got a phone call from my parents while I was working on the roof)
(group shot at the Habitat site)
Last Saturday I went to a town called Slanic, which has an old salt mine and a salt lake. We toured the salt mine (which was surpringly huge) and went swimming in the salt lake. There was also a mud pond next to the lake, so we all took the opportunity to slather ourselves and rinse off in the lake. There's so much salt in that lake that you float without doing anything (sort of like the Dead Sea). In fact, as soon as you emerge from the water and let your skin dry, you'll find yourself covered in a noticeable white layer. Spectacualr, and quite dehydrating, I might add.
(a few of us covered in mud)
On Sunday of last weekend I returned to Busteni and finally got the chance to see the waterfall. It was a great day of hiking, after which we met up with a group of friends who had spent the weekend backpacking from Sinaia (a neighboring town to Busteni). I was jealous, it sounded like they had an awesome time. I plan to do that hike eventually.
That's probably enough rambling for now...
Oh wait, here's a picture from a recent thunderstorm:
(a portion of our 9th-10th grade class)A few weekends ago Ploiesti had a festival known as Zilele Orasului Ploiesti (which basically translates to "The Days of the Ploiesti City," or more simply, "Ploiesti Days." Its basically a celebration of the begining of summer. They had bands playing in the town center (mainly traditional Romanian folk bands), and they set up a beer garden in the park nearby. There was also a rock concert in a park on the outskirts of town. The concert is known as Moto-Rock, beacuse everyone comes with their motorcycles and camps out for two nights. I stayed for one night and saw some of Romania's premier rock bands. It was good to know that rock does exist in Romania. The techno-pop played on every radio station made me doubt I'd ever hear rock again. But, Moto-rock gave me hope. Zilele Orasului Ploiesti lasted all weekend, until the finale on Sunday night at midnight, at which time they had a massive fireworks spectacle. It was great, especially considering the fireworks (pocnitoare) were shooting right over my bloc while I was trying to get a good night's sleep for my first day of practicum (the following day).
(The terasa/beer garden they set up in the center)
(Daria, the daughter of a close friend of my Gazda, taken during the festivities of Ploiesti Days)
(the Busteni station)
(I got a phone call from my parents while I was working on the roof)
(group shot at the Habitat site)
(a few of us covered in mud)That's probably enough rambling for now...
Oh wait, here's a picture from a recent thunderstorm:
Sunday, June 3, 2007
My First Two Weeks
I’m sorry that my last couple posts were pictures without any explanation. I was in a hurry. My internet time has really been limited so far, since I only have access at the training site (a local middle school). Many volunteers who brought laptops with wireless capabilities have been able to make use of the internet cafes in Ploiesti.
If you’re wondering why I took a picture of the canopy-thing, it’s because that’s Harry’s, a favorite hang-out for us trainees. The guy with the computer is one of my fellow trainees, Dan. Also included with the pictures of Ploiesti was a shot of my bedroom (as you may have guessed), as well the view from my window. My gazda family lives in a bloc apartment, on the third floor. They have a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom and a bathroom.
In the pictures of the picnic/barbeque my gazda tata (father) is the one wearing the baseball cap, his name is Vasile. My gazda mama, Florina, is the one posing next to the flowers. The guy with white hair at the grill is Gigi, and his wife Nutzi is the one with the cat. The barbeque was at Gigi and Nutzi’s house, which is located right outside Ploiesti. They have about 1-1.5 acres, and nearly all of it is used to grow fruits and vegetables. They had grapes, strawberries (the strawberries were awesome by the way), pears, sweet cherries, sour cherries, apples, lettuce, cabbage, onions, potatoes, beans, radishes, etc, etc. They also have a few dogs, some very fat rabbits and many chickens. They were incredibly hospitable (in fact I’ve found most people here are). We had pork soup, cabbage salad, bread and mici (pronounced meech, and literally translates to ‘smalls’). Mici is some sort of sausage, I think it’s made out of pork. My tata, Vasile, told me it’s like hamburger. It certainly looks like hamburger, especially when raw, but mici is much saltier and has some spices. It was really pretty good, especially grilled. Gigi broke out a two-liter bottle of beer for the meal. That’s right, two liters! For me it’s still a novelty to think that Romanian grocery stores sell beer in soda bottles. The beer here has been pretty good so far, but Romanian wine is even better. Many people make their own wine and many also make tuica, a type of plum brandy.
If you’re wondering why I took a picture of the canopy-thing, it’s because that’s Harry’s, a favorite hang-out for us trainees. The guy with the computer is one of my fellow trainees, Dan. Also included with the pictures of Ploiesti was a shot of my bedroom (as you may have guessed), as well the view from my window. My gazda family lives in a bloc apartment, on the third floor. They have a kitchen, a living room, a bedroom and a bathroom.
In the pictures of the picnic/barbeque my gazda tata (father) is the one wearing the baseball cap, his name is Vasile. My gazda mama, Florina, is the one posing next to the flowers. The guy with white hair at the grill is Gigi, and his wife Nutzi is the one with the cat. The barbeque was at Gigi and Nutzi’s house, which is located right outside Ploiesti. They have about 1-1.5 acres, and nearly all of it is used to grow fruits and vegetables. They had grapes, strawberries (the strawberries were awesome by the way), pears, sweet cherries, sour cherries, apples, lettuce, cabbage, onions, potatoes, beans, radishes, etc, etc. They also have a few dogs, some very fat rabbits and many chickens. They were incredibly hospitable (in fact I’ve found most people here are). We had pork soup, cabbage salad, bread and mici (pronounced meech, and literally translates to ‘smalls’). Mici is some sort of sausage, I think it’s made out of pork. My tata, Vasile, told me it’s like hamburger. It certainly looks like hamburger, especially when raw, but mici is much saltier and has some spices. It was really pretty good, especially grilled. Gigi broke out a two-liter bottle of beer for the meal. That’s right, two liters! For me it’s still a novelty to think that Romanian grocery stores sell beer in soda bottles. The beer here has been pretty good so far, but Romanian wine is even better. Many people make their own wine and many also make tuica, a type of plum brandy.
The Food:
I’ve only been here for about two weeks, but in my experience so far it seems like soup is a big deal. Nearly everyday Florina makes me a different variety of chicken soup. She’s an excellent cook. For breakfast she usually gives me white cheese (made with cow’s milk), cucumbers or green peppers, tomatoes, bread, tea, orange juice, and sometimes ham or salami. The lunches she gives me for school usually include two or three slices of bread, some sort of vegetable (like sliced cucumber or peppers), a piece of fruit, and sometimes meat (like chicken or ham). One time Florina gave me some sort of spreadable cheese with mushroom which was pretty good. Another time she gave me a pork paté sandwich, which was alright. And another day she gave me a margarine sandwich with cucumber. I had to draw the line at margarine sandwiches. So, that day I went to the piata (market) which is luckily very close to the school and bought a few things. The piata is sort of the equivalent of a farmers’ market in the States. Dinner is the biggest meal of the day. It usually happens in three courses, starting with soup (as I mentioned before). I’ve had several varieties of chicken soup, but the other day Florina made some awesome vegetable soup. Then comes the salad, which most of the time is lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, spinach, dill or parsley with oil, vinegar and lemon juice. There is also a potato salad which they call oriental salad. It reminds me of German potato salad, consisting of boiled potatoes, boiled eggs, onions, olives, oil, vinegar, salt and pepper. The main course usually includes a meat, like ham, chicken, sausage, or sarmale (a sort of stuffed cabbage). A few days ago we had some pasta with a dill sauce that was really interesting. On Friday Florina made french fries and what she called “Schnitzel a la Florina” which was, as I gathered, pieces of chicken covered in fried cheese (cascaval, I think—a yellow cheese). That was just plain amazing. As she put it, her french fries are better (mai bun) than those is America. So, on the whole, I’ve been pretty happy with the food. It tends to be much fresher than in the US, and processed foods are few and far between. My only problem has been that we’ve been eating a lot of hot foods, and the weather has been really hot as well. On Saturday, however, Florina made me a cold lunch of cabbage salad and what I believe was goose (which tastes a lot like beef, strangely enough). So that was nice for a change. I’m learning to like cabbage. There are some pizza places in Ploiesti that I’d like to try, just to see how Romanians do pizza. Rumor has it they like to put ketchup on top of the cheese. I’m not sure if I’ll like that. There are also the standard fast food joints, like KFC or McDonald’s. But, I really have no desire to try those out.
My Gazda:
Communication with my gazda has been alright. It’s usually very basic, revolving around topics like, ‘are you hungry?’, ‘do you like this?’, ‘where are you going?’, or ‘what time will you come home?’ My responses tend to be halted and usually involve a mix of broken Romanian and English, a language I like to call Romlish. Vasile speaks enough English that we can understand each other most of the time, and Florina speaks very little English, but understands some words. There have been several nights where we sit around the dictionary, making hand gestures and drawing pictures. Everyday they test my vocabulary, asking me the names for household objects or foods. When we really can’t understand each other, Vasile goes next door to get Diana, who he calls his dictionary. Diana is 20-something, currently studying architechtural drawing at a university in Ploiesti. She speaks English pretty well, so when she comes over, she’s the translator. Vasile and Florina are very funny. They’re sarcastic, like me, so we get along well. Also I think they’re pretty comfortable with volunteers because they had two others before me.
Weather:
The weather has been really hot and humid the last few days, upwards of 80 degrees F. There have been many afternoon thunderstorms. But Friday we had a tremendously violent one, which seems to have cooled things off a bit. Luckily for me, I was walking home when it occurred--without an umbrella.
Cell Phone:
I bought a cell phone the other day. Vasile’s friend owns a little cell phone shop, and they gave me a “deal” because I’m now Vasile’s baiat (boy). I told Vasile I wanted a really cheap phone with no bells or whistles, so he told his friend and they hooked me up. It seems a lot of things are done in Romania through ‘knowing people.’ There still seems to be a strong sense of community here, even in a fairly big city like Ploiesti. My phone is made by Sagem, which apparently is a French company. I got a pre-pay plan, so I buy a certain number of credits in Euro dollars, and the rate I’m charged depends on who I’m calling. But incoming calls are absolutely free, which is one cool thing about Europe. So, if any of you want to call me, go right ahead. It may cost you an arm and a leg, but it won’t cost me a dime (or a ban for that matter—the Romanian equivalent of cents). You might consider using JahJah if you want to call me. I don’t recall the rates, but I’m sure it’d be less than 20 cents a minute. My brother Jack is also trying to work out something with a Skype-In number that would allow people in the States to call a local CT number that would forward the call to my cell phone. That’d be cool, but we’ll see if it works. I’ll give you details on that as they develop. Email me if you want my number.
Transportation:
Transportation in Ploiesti is really developed. There are multiple bus lines that run constantly until midnight. There are also several train stations (at least two that I know of). A bus ticket costs one leu and is good for one trip. So if I were to take the bus everyday to school, it’d cost me 2 lei round trip. There are many diesel buses, but there are also a good number electric buses and trolleys too, which is pretty awesome. Then again, you have to wonder where they get the electricity from.
My Typical Day:
I usually get up around 7:15. I set my alarm for 6:45, but that’s just wishful thinking. I jump in the shower and have breakfast by 7:20-7:30. At 7:45, if the weather’s nice, I meet a couple fellow trainees who live near me in the center of Ploiesti. We walk to school, which takes about 45 minutes. If it’s rainy, we take the bus. Classes begin at 8:40. We start the day with language training and do that until 12:30. We have a break for lunch until 1:30. I usually spend that time eating the lunches Florina gives me, emailing, playing Frisbee, or going to the local market to walk around or buy a snack. After lunch we begin our afternoon sessions, which deal with topics like diversity, teaching methods, or health and safety. We’ve also done a few classroom observations in a Romanian high school and middle school. The afternoon sessions are over by 5:00, at which time I usually walk home (unless I need to buy detergent or something at Kaufland, one of the local supermarkets). When I get home, I usually talk with Vile and Florina and then we have dinner around 6:30-7. After that I usually go to my room to do homework, or I go to Harry’s to “study.” Sometimes I ask myself, am I really in the Peace Corps? I mean, I live in a developed city, I have a cell phone, the public transportation is really decent, there are western-style supermarkets and there are many internet cafes and bars. But, it’s important to remember my experience thus far has only been with urban Romania. The vast majority of the country is still grossly underdeveloped. My site assignment may very well be in a small rural village, where the need is greatest. I suppose I’m just amazed at how striking the dichotomy between urban and rural is here. I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore.
The Language:
The language training has been coming along alright so far. The teachers are really good. They make learning the language really interesting. And, let me say ladies and gentlemen, the rumors are true. Romanian women are quite attractive. Nearly all our language teachers are females in their mid-twenties, and I’m not complaining in the least. Each class has 4 students in it, and they really try their best to match the teacher’s style to each student’s needs. At the end of each week they interview every student about what worked or what didn’t work and if they feel like you’d be better suited to work with another teacher they place you in a different class for the next week. We’ve done a lot of interactive language exercises, including going to the post office to buy stamps, going to the bus station to buy tickets, and going to the supermarket to reinforce food vocabulary. We even made a traditional Transylvanian salad in class, the oriental salad. It’s all good stuff. I like that they’re trying to give us some practical skills and ways to apply the vocab. Last Friday our teachers split the trainees into 5 teams and sent us on a treasure hunt. Obviously the instructions for the hunt were in Romanian. Each team’s “treasure” was to perform a skit in front of the entire training group (as well as the country director and other PC staff). The topic for my team’s skit was “with the gazda on the weekend,” so we acted out our interpretation of a family picnic. All the skits were really funny. We have a really creative group.
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