| | I had déjà vu with my last week at site. I remember two years ago prior
to leaving the States everything being crazy—well the same, times ten
this time around! I felt like a celebrity as I was booked completely
through the entire day, evening, and wee hours of the morning.
Here's just a tid bit of what I was busy with...
Weddings are still very traditional so I was delighted to attend one.
The Orthodox ceremony is quite different from the Catholic one.
Highlights include everyone standing, crowns placed on the bride and
groom, a lot, I mean a lot, of crossing oneself (and they cross right
to left), and rather than the future husband and wife placing rings on
each other it is the duty of the godparents. Following the religious
ceremony is when the REAL FUN BEGINS!
The reception starts around 7 pm and does not finish until 4 or 5 AM.
Course after course is served. It was a struggle to eat the pork dish
served at 2 am after all I already had soup, chicken, veal, and a fruit
platter. Chicken, veal, fish are expensive here but food plays an
important part so even a family with little money would spend all to
make sure there is ‘ample’ food at the reception.
To burn off each course the music starts playing and everyone begins
dancing. America SERIOUSLY needs to jump on bandwagon for circle
dances. After the third circle dance or Hora I finally got the steps
down and joined the young and old in celebration around a circle. Of
course other music was played. It was strange to dance a Hora and then
try to booty dance to Shakira.
I had a train to catch at 3 am so I had to leave at a pathetic early
time of 2 am. But alas good things were waiting for me in Vladesti.
Caruta time!!!!
In towns and villages a horse drawn wagon (caruta) is quite common.
Many farmers use them to gather hay and wood in the summer to store up
for the winter, and for some this is their means of transportation. I
love seeing a man sitting on top of a ten foot pile of grass driving a
horse….they can’t get off until the grass is pulled off. I sure hope
they take a bathroom break before the trip! I assumed I’d go into town
on the person’s caruta but, oh no he had different plans: the forest
trail. Caruta drivers look so peaceful but I’ve learned it can be
intense. After five minutes into the forest the guy gives me the reigns
to drive—AWESOME. Going up hill, no big deal, however going down I was
holding on for dear life and yelling INCET, DI TATA (slow, come on
father). That horse apparently loves to trot despite being nine and
having a heart condition. Oh my, sitting on a piece of wood lying
across the wagon and keeping my feet up to make sure they didn’t get
caught below in addition to guiding the horse around the curves was
crazy. I lost a sandal en route. Not to mention the fact that friends
behind the caruta were laughing hysterically as I shouted commands to
the horse. I figured the horse was not accustomed to my accent so I
yelled HEI MAH (let’s go man! somewhat condescending) which caused the
friends to laugh even more but at least the horse understood. After an
hour of holding on to the reigns and wood bench for dear life, winding
around turns and bouncy up and down as though I had a constant spring
under my butt I finally made it home safely. Whew. I now respect the
Caruta man. It’s tougher than it looks!
The rest of week consisted me not going to bed until after midnight and
getting up no later than 6 am since my To Do list kept getting longer.
I had to keep busy because each time I sat down I wanted to fall
asleep. Thankfully I didn’t get one last attack of bugs but something
else happened. One night I thought I heard raining (door wide
open--temperatures) which made me happy since I figured it was finally
cooling down. Yet going to the bathroom in the morning I had an
unpleasant surprise: it was not raining, instead water was gushing
through my broiler. Just what I needed before leaving. To add to the
mounting stress the landlord wanted me to pay for it under the logic
of: I lived there while it broke so therefore it is my fault.
Seriously… Thankfully I got PC on it to talk some sense into him. I did
not want to return to Romania in the future because I was getting sued!
Leaving site I traveled six hours via Bucharest to my first host family
back two years ago which seems so long ago! We had a lovely evening of
shooting the breeze. Following that I had to take my three very heavy
bags to the train station by myself. It took me thirty minutes of
huffing and puffing to get to the platform which meant no time to buy a
ticket. I made an educated guess of what the price was given I recently
took a similar train of same distance. Hahaha, apparently prices rose
in two months. I gave the ticket collector 10 ron pointing to my bags
and that I was in a hurry. He gave me a dirty look and then put the
money in his pocket. Oops I bribed the ticket collector; vai de mine,
have I assimilated into Romanian culture! (I found out later the ticket
price was actually 18 ron and so instead of charging me the full
amount, the collector just took the 10 ron for himself.)
I spent three days in Bucharest signing forms to the point of my hand
falling off; many trees must die when volunteers end service. It was
also a chance to say goodbye to close friends I made over the two
years.
I consider it a smart move that when I booked my flight home I gave
myself three days in Budapest to decompress before returning. After
finally giving into the need for sleep I went to this island where a
pool complex was to relax. Sitting in the massage pool, exploring the
Adventure pool (which was not very adventurous) and finally crashing in
the wave pool was quite nice, totally worth the twelve bucks I paid to
get in. Unfortunately I didn’t walk out with the same clothes as I came
in with. At one point I saw a cleaning lady pick up my bag next to my
towel and throw it in her trash bag. I ran out of the pool, politely
power walked up to her demanding my bag through a combination of
gestures, English and Romanian words to no avail. Following her to the
bathroom I waited outside of the stall—big mistake. As she came out she
dumped her bag to show me mine wasn’t there. Three hours were spent
talking to security and management, freakin’ A nothing happened! I was
pissed. Two years in Romania I’ve learned to watch my things like a
hawk. Like I said, pissed off I was. Management laughed as I explained
I didn’t want to ride the metro and then walk thirty minutes to my
hostel in just a bathing suit and flip flops…not exactly my style. So
in the end the one thing management helped me with was fitting me with
clothes. Digging through an apparent left behind box I received a
t-shirt meant for some 8th grade girl going through hormonal change and
wanting to express it on a t-shirt and large male swim shorts like
boxers. Thank goodness Budapest is a large city so strangers just
figured I was someone with one weird sense of fashion!
REFLECTIONS:
Were the two years everything I thought it would be? Oh hell no.
Things I taught myself in the thousands of hours of free time: knitting,
eating with chop sticks, karate, Carpathian Adventure (3 day non stop
race consisting of hiking, biking, rafting, caves).
Easy to adapt to not having: internet,
tv, or washing machine. Walking long amounts, stray dogs, not getting
exact change back, paying the bills at the post office.
Thank you Romania: for
teaching me to enjoy spicy food. Romanian cuisine is rather bland so
after two years of it I am SOOOO looking forward to Mexican and Asian
food when I return. For helping me become more relaxed and patient. Blackie, he was a great friend, albeit he was a dog.
My thoughts have changed: on
communism. Twenty years of a ruthless dictator, Ceausescu, remnants of
past are still apparent. Great in theory, horrible in practice has
never rang more true than now after spending two years in former
communist country.
What I’ve realized: it takes an extremely long time to break from the past, see above comment.
Ketchup: does not need to be put on everything!
Things I didn't care for: getting criticized constantly on the streets for running and the trash.
Frustrations: being
in a Peace Corps country where intangibles play a much larger role than
tangibles. (It takes so much longer assisting with intangibles than it
does with tangible projects). Not being myself at PST. Realizing that I
could have worked in a village where I could have assisted with basic
needs rather than in a city organization. Living somewhere that on the
surface resembles Western Europe but underneath is so much different on
every level, both good and bad. NEGATIVITY. Planning projects/events
only to see them fail in the last step. Peace Corps Romania while
developed far more than other PC countries is for sure, most definitely
not Posh Corps.
Dream of living in one place for two years: still going. Sadly that hope of mine prior to Peace Corps was not realized.
Announce: I
announced to colleagues that I studied in the faculty of Political
science in the university…British English I’ve adapted. Please remember
that when I return. 
Countries I’ve been to: Hungary, Moldova, Turkey, Greece, Serbia, Bosnia, Croatia, “Transniester”
What I’ve learned: I
would like to change my focus outside of Europe. Hopefully I can find
a job in helping refugees or something in int’l development. Two years
in another country, experiencing a different culture is a LONG TIME.
Will I volunteer with Peace Corps again: yes, and am seriously considering doing it after I finish my master’s and going to Eastern Africa.
What I like about Romania: open
air markets, water melon so incredibly cheap! Public transportation
(buses, trains, hitchhiking, and even the over crowded maxi taxis),
circle dances, cheap beer, untouched landscape.
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| | Posted 7/22/2008 8:12 AM - 39 Views - 0 eProps - 0 comments
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