I was sitting in bed last night reading with a headlamp on and under numerous blankets waiting for my fire to grow in the wood burning stove (soba), despite this I had a huge smile on my face. Why? No I have not gone crazy, I just moved, again, to the village where I work. I now live by myself in a quaint Romanian village house! Romanian real estate: a dorm room with holes in walls and floors costs more than an entire house to rent. Does this make sense??? Whatever, my rent skyrocketing at my second home (since September) was a blessing in disguise because it gave me reason to move to the village where I’ve wanted to live since arriving at site. Moving is a pain but yesterday seeing the 7th graders come by to drop wood off for me and all agreeing to stop by this weekend to help me clean the yard I knew then I made the right decision.

It is a standard Romanian village house: small, big garden, sobe for heat, and wells for water. Thankfully my counterpart was able to repair the pipes so I have running water, no need for the outhouse! The owners let their dog live at house rather than their apartment which means I get to take care of a German Shepard/Rottweiler  mix named Blackie for the rest of the time I am here. I am absolutely thrilled about this. Personally I would have named him Ursul—The Bear—since he looks like one. He is a jumper and has some fangs worth bragging about but nonetheless he’s loveable. Sadly he doesn’t understand the concept of fetch yet but there are plenty of weekends to help him master this.

I was grinning ear to ear when my counterpart showed me the house two weeks ago but when I came back to talk to the owners my grin disappeared as soon as I saw four older ladies (from now on known as The Grandmothers). Negotiations had turned to 4 to 1, hopefully I come out on top!  As I walked toward them I planned out my negotiating strategy—basically as soon as I heard ‘este draguta’ (she’s lovely, a dear, etc) I knew they would agree to me renting the house. Seizing up The Grandmothers I learned the true owner has a son in America, another is quintessential Romanian using Dumnezu ajutam, sanatate(God help us, to health) every few minutes in conversation, one of the Grandmothers is actually the neighbor—must make her a dessert and talk about how much I love mamaliga and sarmale (the national dishes), and the fourth I really didn’t understand since her accent was very thick and having only a few teeth didn’t help much however the random hug she gave me I viewed as a good sign. Conversation went back and forth about the details, especially with me being adamant about them calling before coming over. They don’t see a problem if they come over on some idle Friday to see Blackie and then take a nap inside… I was in the midst of talking to the younger one, or the lady I best understood, when I heard the true owner tell the Dumnezu ajutam Grandmother “... este draguta...” Poftim (what was that)? Yes I am in!!! They liked me and after a little more discussion the Grandmothers agreed to rent the place to me. Woo hoo!

Work for the village organization has picked up a little but my org. in the city is still the main place I work so every day I trek the 5 miles by walking or riding my bike. It can be a pain but I look at it as constant exercise plus I no longer have to deal with the haggling I got when I went running in town. Rather than seeing the Carpathian mountains in the distance while walking to and fro work I now see the mountains to the west. This is a quite a motivator when I’m breaking a sweat biking home to look up and see snow topped mountains. Unlike the ride home where I’m huffy and puffy because of the constant incline—like a ramp, the ride to town is great: fast, easy going with wind to my back.

Back to the fire. To heat my bedroom I must put wood in the ceramic tiled stove, light a match, and let it grow which is easier said than done. Cold and frustrated as I only had three matches left and very little paper.  I scanned my room for  any possible paper I could use. Ahh Sallie Mae letters, perfect…or not (I wish) so I continued scanning.  Finally in my ‘financial folder’ of all places I found a nice thick booklet that would do the trick: IRS Form and Instructional Booklet: Tax Year 2006!!!  I reorganized the wood/paper in a teepee shape hoping this style would work. I sighed, lit the paper and waited, and waited for the wood to catch fire. After what seemed like forever my fire grew, it worked!!! Thank you IRS for heating my room. Happily I threw up my arms in a victory sign (seriously) knowing when I woke up the next day I’d be comfortable and not freezing.

ps. If anyone is looking for a good read, try Water for Elephants. A delightful novel!