Adrianne_22's Xanga

Becoming an RPCV

Tue, 22 Jul 2008 12:12:12 GMT

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.

Wednesday, June 11, 2008

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 16:21:28 GMT

Please email me if you want to see this month's blog. Next blog will be posted here as normal.

Best, Adrianne

20 months of waiting

Tue, 29 Apr 2008 13:27:54 GMT

(I realize these pictures are awefully small. Click on Photos above the blog and you should be able to seem enlarged.)

My house--I asked for running water but the person before me used the well for water--and Blackie:

Crooked bridge in Vladesti—the good thing is if one falls in, the water's not too deep…

A long awaited moment: true happiness at site

At COS conference one volunteer aptly stated that it stinks that we have such a short time left (2-4 months) to enjoy the fruits of our hard work. I can’t state how true this is. For the last twenty months I’ve assisted on projects which have failed, projects which succeeded, tried to no end to cultivate a social network in town; in general I've spent twenty months doing what I think I should be doing under the auspices of a peace corps volunteer—many a moment frustrating! Finally, I have two good friends (I speak of Romanians here) and yet only three months to enjoy their company! After three different tutors and daily frustration, I can speak Romanian but again for such a short time. The most irritating thing is that right now I’m so happy: I love where I live, what I do and my daily schedule. Why couldn't I have had this feeling a year ago? In short, I am happy that I am sad to leave. Honestly I didn’t have these thoughts a year ago, nay six months ago. Some may disagree with this point but I am sure a fair amount of my fellow PCVs here would concur: we’ll take physical hardship over mental hardship any day when it comes to being a volunteer in a country or at a site, or an assigned job.

Perhaps most importantly I am happy to be ending my service on a high note, to finish strong because that is what I’ll remember ten years from now not what my first six months at site were like.

COS conference/Mission Accomplişed:
A fabulous sign made by some volunteers (the tail under the s makes the s sound like a sh).

This is a picture of all the volunteers in the Transylvania region:

and now this is a picture of the volunteers in the Oltenia part of Romania, see why I get lonely sometimes!

This conference is the last time where our group meets before officially ending service and I lost my voice there, go figure. As a result of friends living at least eleven hours away from me, no Americans to talk to close by, I overcompensate at conferences—the lost voice was well worth it, I had a great time.

It started off on the right foot with the dreaded language exams. I wasn’t sure how I’d do since my first year was basically all in English, yet I’ve had tutoring since fall so I was a hopeful realist walking into the exam. To my joy at the end the teacher gave me a rough score…I couldn’t hold in my grin. One of my biggest goals from the gecko was to really learn the language--something I thought wouldn’t happen last year, but it did! Now if only I could find a job using Romanian

What to leave behind
At the conference we had a short workshop on what to take home and what to leave behind. Here’s my list…
Sore throat/cold/running nose: It seems for the vast majority of time here I’ve had to deal with the above. It has become part of me because when people remark “:oh Adriana you have a running nose” I respond with “tell me something new”
Bugs, specifically: roaches/bed bugs/fleas.I don’t need to elaborate but I will say my first night in America on a non infested bed I’ll be on cloud nine.
Annoying teenagers: I run to relieve stress but unfortunately because running is not common boys feel the need to say something…usually something stupid. That and the general weekly female harassement I am pretty much done with.
Clothes: I’m going to have one heck of a time shopping when I return! Ladies get ready.

Easter
This past Sunday was Orthodox Easter (90% of Romanians are orthodox). The best way to describe the days leading up to Sunday and the actual day in terms of chaos and celebration is to compare it to Thanksgiving. The Friday before everyone is trying to leave the city and get to their family’s house in the village. I mean everyone. Trains were standing room only, the metro crowded as ever in the capital. I, as well, was trying to return home from Bucharest. Normally the metro route I take is deserted since the bus station is on the outskirts of town however this past Friday no one was getting off at earlier stops. This gave me serious cause to worry. If hundreds of people were on the metro with me it meant one thing: they were headed to the same bus station! Bus was the only option for me to get home and it was already 5 pm with buses running until 8. I needed a plan. Still on the metro I did a little jig to get closer to the doors so when they opened I could jet out. There is an advantage I have over the rest of the riders: power walking. Walking fast is not something you’ll see here. I exited in a snap, ran up the stairs, zigzagged across numerous kiosks to reach the station when I had to confront a new problem: Romanian lines. While I was the first out of the metro I was not the first to the bus station. There is no polite unspoken rule of personal space in lines: the elderly will shove comparable to the college student. With that said I ran to the first bus I saw and stood in line for a ticket thinking I would have to beg the driver for a ticket without a chair (meaning standing the entire time—only three hours but the last hour consisting of wicked S turns, hills, not to mention factoring in Romanian style driving).

Once home, all male residents were grocery shopping—buying the last two dozen eggs, a random pig’s leg, lamb, or ten loafs of bread (on top of another ten at home) because the females were tucked away in the kitchen preparing mounds of food. On Easter rather than searching for eggs kids play a game where one knocks a dyed red egg over the other with the first person saying “histros a inviat,” and the second “adevarat a inviat.” Whichever one doesn’t crack is the winner. These three days I think it is plausible for a person to get through the day saying nothing but those two phrases.

Lastly here are some random pictures of my birthday party camping expedition.

Spelunking, thinking, taking a leap, and enjoying a splash with a friend Julia

Quite happy

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 11:05:29 GMT

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!

Friday, January 18, 2008

Fri, 18 Jan 2008 07:27:20 GMT

Every six months it seems I yearn for a break from the second hand smoke and surroundings, not to mention a pause helps put things in perspective for me. Greece and Moldova, here I come!

Chisinau despite the being the capital of Europe's poorest country is quite fashionable. Victoria and I went window shopping to stores comparable to America. But unlike America, more similar to Romania public transportation basically consists of zooming maxitaxis. The drivers are entertaining and impatient. As soon as we opened the door to hop in, the driver takes off. It took me some time to adjust to swinging the door open and immediately getting my balance before falling over others. Once, in a very crowded maxitaxi, 25ish passengers, the driver suddenly comes to a complete stop to ask who didn't pay. (How do they keep track, when they never see who actually hands them money, and bills sit on the dashboard???) We just wait, and wait. When no one confessed the driver yelled he was going home and we could find our own way to our destinations. Another time a driver, especially in a rush, barely let people open the door before taking off. Why the hurry? Apparently he was searching for girls. That's the fastest I've ever been between point A and point B was with that driver.

That said, one of my favorite things there was cereal. Grocery stores had actual rows of variety to choose from. Amazing! In Romania I can get (on two small shelves): bad chocolate cereal, ok chocolate cereal, or heavily overpriced fitness cereal. I smiled every time we walked down that aisle. Well let me be honest, a few times I purposely walked down the cereal aisle just to admire it! How dare the manager who tried to kick Victoria and I out before I was fully content looking at the aisle.

A visit to Moldova is not complete without traveling to the country which doesn't exist. In short, a small region of the already tiny country of Moldova decided to fight for independence. The government denied them that request and so the people took matters into their own hands. Minus citizenship Transdniestrians are independent: their own currency, security, border guards, 'national' museum, parliament, etc. Basically it is a blast into the past: communist style. Lonely Planet describes it as the last bastion of communism...indeed! After arriving in the capital city, Tiraspol we got stopped by two intimidating policemen for jaywalking. I was quite worried while they took us their little guard house (size of two phone booths). Adding to my skepticism was the fact Transdniester uses the Russian language, not Romanian so for the entire day I was completely lost in verbal communication. Thanks to my friend schmoozing with policemen for some time we got off scotch free. Next we walked past the parliament building, standard communist block building, where a statue stands impossible to miss. Any guesses for who it is? Vladimir Lenin stands proudly there, 30 feet at least! A huge block of concrete and then him.The google picture I saw before hand doesn't do it justice. It is just massive staring right at you. I particularly liked the poster joining the Transdniester president with Vladimir Putin and Ce Guevara and right next to it was one advertising the Communist Youth Group. Like I said, a blast from the past! The National museum was pretty good, especially considering Trandsniester is poorer than Moldova. One can’t forget where they are because in the room dedicated to the civil war back in 1992 against Moldova, it says: "these men fought boldly against the aggressor." Nothing wrong with that statement except when remembering that Transdniestrians are technically Moldovans, thereby calling their country of citizenship an aggressor.

After leaving the country that has a mix of Romanian and Russian, famous wines, and two autonomous regions I headed to a country slightly more touristy: Greece! Like falling in love with cereal in Moldova, I fell in love with the Athens metro. Perhaps a strange thing to admire but come to Bucharest and you'll understand. It's funny I get used to Romania, the Bucharest metro, stray dogs, smoke, and so on and then I go to a place like Greece which throws me off guard. Night and day, my friends.

Both Romania and Greece have their share of stray dogs but unlike in Romania where they are shaggy, aggressive and in general a sad situation, Athens' stray dogs are huge; I am talking St. Bernard size! Not only that, they are clean and friendly, what a pleasant surprise! I didn't have to worry about fierce barking or sprinting away from them.

Twice I had the feeling Greece is not Romania. I didn't see any one toast their friends with their glasses of champagne in public at the main square for New Year's whereas in Romania people laugh at my mention of America's open container laws and tell me how weird my country is. On a full train to Athens from Thessaloniki we had two seats for four people (fellow PCV friends Mara, Julia, and Tatiana). While in Romania I wouldn't think twice about securing a spot on the floor to sit/sleep but on this train there was no one in the aisles! Craziness, I say.

New Year's eve, we wandered around Athens and came upon a concert. However, we represented 50% of female population. There were about 8 women out of 300-400 men! We never figure out who the signer was and why it was such a huge attraction to just men. After that we decided to enjoy champagne and beer by ourselves. It was nice until a man (perhaps the equivalent of Samantha in Sex and City) asked me to be his girlfriend. Straight to the point, not even a hello!

Seeing the ancient monuments was amazing in the sense of reflection. The next time I go Greece I’ll be hiking up Mt. Olympus and enjoying lunch where it is said the gods resided.

To cap off the vacation we headed to the coast on a tour to Nafplio (Southwest of Athens). A small quaint town, I liked it. There I learned more than I ever need to know about a fortress, potato stealing, and a murder located at the steps of a church. Of course being from Wisconsin I had to represent the Polar Bear club (running in a body of water on January 1st). Proudly my friends, Mara, and Julia joined me in running into the Aegean sea. Burr.

Returning to Romania we found that winter had finally arrived. The entire country was blanketed in snow and cold temperatures. Excellent. The slow bus ride home, I stared out at the picturesque landscape of hills and mountains covered in snow hoping my last stretch in Romania is filled with adventurous tales breaking up my on and off work routine.

Understanding

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 18:43:53 GMT

Prior to Peace Corps I felt that I understood a fair amount about Europe: geography, the EU, politics of various countries, etc but living in Romania I have to come realize that I missed one important topic, the people. Additionally living here has been a huge eye opener for me in realizing just how difficult it is to break from the past!

When I arrived in Romania catching myself up on its history (specifically modern) I assumed that remnants of the communist past would be gone—both physically and psychologically. Today I feel that at that moment I should have heard WRONG buzzing (like in game shows) in my ears. To move on takes time, a long time, something I am beginning to understand now.

Sure politics is run democratically; in short if you were to visit—minus the vast rows of bloc apartments in every town, city, and some villages and absence of houses—you wouldn’t think that history still plays a role here. Physically, the one noticeable thing left are the blocs (well, and the People’s Palace) but psychologically, it can be quite different.

Take NGOs for example. Banned during the communist times and the concept only taking off 90s means a vast amount of organizers are still learning. Creating an NGO isn’t a problem now but running one can be challenging. Many of the people running NGOs grew up during Ceausescu’s ruthless rein and have little experience running an organization. They must learn the tricks of the trade—fundraising, recruitment, organizing events and so on. I feel that these people are special, in a way; these are the ones willing to go into uncharted territory to make improvements in some area. For those who feel I am over exaggerating, understand that I felt the same way before as well. Like I said, this aspect of Peace Corps has been a huge insight for me, one I wasn’t expecting.

Today there are people willing to organize to create NGOs, problem solved, right? (BUZZ) No. These organizers face a huge challenge—the general public. Some are wary of NGOs because they are foreign (I don’t mean country wise) and even within NGOs members will be hesitant to partner with other NGOs. They fear competition. Shortly after arriving here I was frustrated at this point, I mean why not partner with another organization to expand upon a project; why are people so hesitant to volunteer to help an NGO that interests them??? These questions bogged me down at night. I can’t say I have the exact answers today but I have a better idea because today I understand, I understand how important and how difficult historical events/people/times can impact the present day. I have come to realize that indeed breaking with the past, even if one hates it, takes time and energy.

Volunteering is a concept many people don’t understand because in the past volunteering was mandatory. Partnerships can be viewed negatively because for so long they were discouraged and the reality of informants on family, friends, schools, and work result in difficulties to gain trust of another. Being more understanding of patience needed to break from old habits has helped me, at the very least, be ok with baby steps. I suppose this is why PCVs under the sector of Institutional Development are here—assist NGOs with tasks they may be unfamiliar with (i.e. fabulous data entry or creating a budget) and to suggest options they may not think of or be confident in. I think we are also here to help the general public realize the benefit of NGOs, to show them that volunteering is not a bad thing, or that giving a small amount of money to an org. can help them in the long run.

It amazes me that I never gave much thought to what politics means on a smaller scale; I always thought in terms of the politicians circle or the ramifications of one policy had on another government. Working at the grassroots level I realize (now) how important it is to remember history at a societal level to comprehend the present day situation and decide the best path to take for future progress.

Munca (work)

Wed, 31 Oct 2007 14:12:17 GMT

Dec. 2005, George Mason University
When I received my folder giving me details about what my assignment would be in Romania I remember being excited and pondered what 'Institutional Development' implied. I remember thinking how great it would be if I was matched with an org. focusing on minorities or human rights. With these assumptions I was quite surprised to find out seven months later that I would be working with two organizations: one in a village and another in the city which at first glance have nothing in common with my background--drama and children!

June 2006, Ploiesti
Sector leaders give workshops on NGO sector in Romania, project management, tools to evaluate projects: SWAT analysis, anyone? And so on to help prepare us for two years. Plus we had a practicum to give us some idea of what we MAY be doing the next two years. Weeks later PC/sector leaders matched us to organizations they believed best suited one's experience and skills. (Of course there are a few other factors.) After my practicum in an orphanage I thought I would be in huge trouble if I received an assignment that dealt primarily with kids! As things turned out I got assigned to two NGOs which benefit children and high school students. But again, me and drama; how did this happen??? My performance in the Wizard of Oz play back in 7th grade wasn't exactly top notch...

Regarding technical skills I still have questions as to whether mine are best suited to these NGOs but that said abilities which I have but didn’t consider two years ago have come in handy. The drama org. requires one to be very independent and to motivate others for support with projects while the other organization (in the village) needs one to be extremely flexible and be willing to keep at it when progress is stalled or backtracked. I have come to realize working with children can be fun and that, to my surprise, I am pretty good at it.

Present Day
Please keep in mind that these are just two NGOs in Romania, other NGOs may very well run similar to those in the U.S. These two very different ones are just what I am familiar with.

Educational Drama Association in Romania (EDAR)
The org. is national with six members serving as the board, there is a headquarters but this is for paper only. The address one would see on the website is for the bank account only. There are no phone numbers for EDAR, to talk one must contact an individual member. I was assigned to Rm. Valcea because the President of the org. is an Engish teacher. For this reason I work inside of a school. Going in does not imply me working in a nice office suited for EDAR; Ha, if only! My 'office' can be smelled from down the hall as it is the smoking room for teachers; the president of the NGO is a smoker which is why I come here to work sans fancy desk with nameplate! This room is multi-functional because it has the one teachers' computer which is shared by EDAR, and others (i.e. students helping teachers) which means my time of doing official work is rarely completed in one sweep.

I am currently writing this at nearly midnight and yet I have no set time of when I will go into work tomorrow. I like efficiency and punctuality but in regards to work schedules I have yet to encounter such traits. I communicate with other board members but primarily I work with my CP every day. That is it, ONE PERSON, which can be both good and bad. It is nearly November and I can finally fix my schedule regarding times to come in because the school schedule is now fixed. For roughly a month (school began Sept. 15^th) one teacher is charged with creating the timetable/schedule of classes for all teachers. (Timetable organizer is an extremely powerful title!) Every day teachers must look at a chart to see when and where they teach...a very frustrating time, to say the least. I do a lot of work by myself but still I need to collaborate with my CP which is difficult when I do not know what time she has class--chaotic to say the least which makes me believe it will be hard to readjust to a 9-5 job after this!

I have come accustomed to working at any hour and doing errands whenever there is a short break because more than likely that break will turn out to be much longer. For these reasons my daily schedule can look like this: 8 am run, 9 am buy fruits/veggies at the market, 10-11 work (at home), 11-1 laundry/lunch, 2-4 tutoring, 4-7 work (at school), 8-9 meet a friend, 9-midnight stare at my computer and realize my biggest regret: not purchasing a DVD player with it.

If I were to give myself a title I suppose project assistant would be most accurate. Prior to PC and still in PST I figured I would share my skills/experiences such as membership recruitment, fundraising, or networking but while those may be valuable to the org. members do not focus on them but rather projects--contests, camp, teacher conference--so I have become Project Assistant Extraordinaire! I can't stress just how important it has been to be able to change plans/ideas and revise expectations. This is much easier said then done but once these adjustments are made work becomes actual work rather than miscommunication or floating ideas.

Asociatia Copiii Sperantei
This is the NGO I work for in the nearby village (pop. 6,000 maybe). The org. consists of a few volunteers and members are the local children. Yes, the org. has a mission statement, an accountant (whom I have never met), and a board but it has no set meeting times nor do board members get together to discuss the last year's budget...what budget, they would ask. Matters are discussed over a bottle of beer. I have never been to the village and NOT asked if I would like to share some beer. When working on the playground beer, not water, was passed around. In this past year and a half I have not necessary increased the amount of beer I drink but rather where. Sharing a beer before, during, or after our duties has become so routine I now expect one to be offered which doesn't imply I always accept I know this will be a big adjustment for me when I return to the U.S. In fact my tutor made a joke saying she wishes she could be at the first meeting I attend looking perplexed because there is no beer being offered. I am NOT suggesting that those involved in NGOs just sit around drinking beer--far from it, but discussing work matters during the day over a beer can be a regular occurrence.

In regards to work schedule and daily tasks for ACS, I can't really answer that because I don't have any. When a project is being completed my schedule consists of waiting for a text message to see when to stop by...usually once a week. The most appropriate title for me here would be ________ (fill in the blank) and feel free to change that every day! I will bike to the village stay for two or three hours and after discussing the work with my CP and the three other volunteers I return home. The NGO does not meet daily...sometimes not weekly so there are no daily tasks to speak of. If my CP needs something he texts me and I get it done (come talk to the children, join us for Halloween, prepare a presentation to give to the principle on project management, etc). But overall, I cannot predict what I will be doing in a month for ACS. Perhaps this is good, perhaps not. The org. is not at a level to have/need daily tasks therefore I focus more on helping it sustain itself within its capacity. Sure I have loftier goals for the organization as I think it is quite valuable but I know they cannot be achieved until the basics are planted.

In other words the NGO is local, make that, very local, so things a 'normal' NGO has ACS doesn't need. Why get a local phone line when organizers live three houses down from each other on the same street (there is only one main street), and why have internet when few of the beneficiaries have computers? The NGO needs are far more basic then that and this is where I try to lend a hand. Strategically I try to throw in a few useful things here and there: talk about proper budgets and accountability when working on a grant, for example hoping some of it will connect with the organizers. Encouraging organizers to meet the members/children once a week may seem like a small task but here it is huge. If I leave Romania at a point where ACS has weekly discussions or organizers are working on the next project--Harvest Day or environmental education I will have done my job. That then requires a celebration with colleagues at the bar across the school on the one street.

Going With The Flow

Tue, 02 Oct 2007 07:13:53 GMT

It’s 9 pm when I collapse onto my bed after a long ride from Turda, and as I am about to fall asleep miserable from having the stomach flu I think about one thing—how awesome it is to have this new apartment with such a great bed! (read dorm style mattress).

Back in the beginning of August I received bad news that I would have to vacate my apartment by the end of the month because my landlord/owner wanted to sell it to make more money. Little did I know how difficult it would be to find a new place. For the entire month I, along with numerous others, searched everywhere but came up empty. To my dismay I would have to follow through with step Z (yes it was that far down) and move into the Inspectorat Scoalar--a county agency for school--which houses students from various towns and villages, and visiting teachers. However I had to stay with a professor for two weeks until it was deemed 'ready.' On the last night at my temporary apartment I thought my luck had changed when a lady offered to rent her grandmother’s former apartment to me! The apt. was decent, average former communist bloc apt..the norm here however once I stepped into the bathroom and saw it crawling with bugs I immediately decided to stick with the Inspectorat place. Battling bugs for eight months on a constant basis was enough for me!

The new place is no posh-core apartment! For two weeks I was without hot water which I suppose normally wouldn't be a big deal BUT I also didn't have a stove; I couldn't even take a bucket shower with warm water. Additionally the place came without a refrigerator and only has one sink in the bathroom. The modified PC motto from "how do you look at a glass with half water in…" to include "a PCV sees it and thinks I can take a bath with it!" definitely rang true with me. Water conservationists would be so proud of me. As for my food I am grateful to finally own two burners and a small refrigerator as the all natural diet was getting a tad old. To celebrate I decided to bake a cake. Not having any table space I sat on the floor mixing the batter afterwards I found on the floor above me a community stove albeit not cleaned for a few years (yuck). At this time the electricity decided to go out so the reminder of my baking was done in the hallway and again on the floor. There was no tray in the oven thereby requiring the pan to sit directly above the floor of the oven; needless to say the cake turned out horrible. My celebration was short-lived (looking back it stopped after I bought the ingredients at the local store)! No more baking for me…darn it all.

While my new living arrangements are less than to be desired for other things have gone really well. I am happy to say that after eight months my SPA project is finally complete. The playground opened up recently to all the village kids grinning ear to ear waiting anxiously to use the equipment. I must say I was delighted. In PC Romania where volunteers work on projects with results usually being intangibles (i.e. trainings, changing mentalities, etc) unlike in many other PC countries where projects result in tangible accomplishments it can be extremely difficult to see the value of what and why we are here. Therefore to have a project with both tangible (playground) and intangible (project planning /org. management/proper use of funds) accomplishments is absolutely wonderful.

Shortly after cutting the ribbon with my counterpart and a volunteer to officially open the playground I hopped on a bus to help another volunteer with her festival roughly six hours away. Turda Fest was good, classic Romanian festival including vendors with traditional arts and crafts, food, and agro businessmen. Plus a world record was broke and I helped--in a very, very small way! Kalacs is traditional bread made by rolling the dough onto a long cylinder heated up with a fire below spinning slowly. Sugar, nuts, or cinnamon are commonly added to give flavor. Turda now owns the record for the longest kalacs (Hungarian spelling)in the world! I, along with many other volunteers, carried the 20-30 ft. cylinder to the center of town. Carrying it we all resembled a military unit—marching to cadence wasn’t far off.

The festival was also great for another reason. These events give volunteers a chance to get together, have fun, catch up, and of course distress. For four days Turda included a "little American" community with thirty or so volunteers helping with manual labor by preparing the kiosks, putting, re-applying roofs to them, and an attempt to manage the crowd before a parade, ha! That most definitely failed. But in the end I certainly enjoyed myself meeting up with friends and seeing a new part of Romania. Unfortunately a ciorba, or sour soup, had other plans. The last night I was unable to fall asleep (we were all at the PCVs office using a variety of mattresses and sleeping bags) and after a hour of tossing and turning I had to make a mad dash to the bathroom for the inevitable. There is nothing worse then having to go Number 2 and to vomit simultaneously. Let's just say I crashed the rest of night next to the toilet. Fun times.

To get back to site as quick as possible for rest I decided to skip the bus and hitch. Going from Turda to Sibiu with another volunteer worked out great. Lovely people these students were, we got to ride for free! The ride also only took approximately 2.5 hrs instead of three or more. We were quickly picked up at the next autostop (hitchhiking stop) by someone with a big van. It does not help that one of the worst roads in Romania in terms of traffic, width of the road, and terrain happened to be between Sibiu and my city, but this man was a horrible driver! Stop, go, stop, and go continued forever. While stuck in a huge jam due to only one lane being open I kept thinking a horse-drawn cart from nearby towns would be faster than this. Another thought that crossed my mind (excuse me to all the Americans reading this) was that I kept wishing this man would start driving more like his fellow Romanians or Europeans for that matter, he wasn’t super fast nor did he have any ‘wild’ driving traits found commonly here…he was very American in his driving. He kept letting people pass in front of him and he would never seize the opportunity to pass semis when the path was actually clear. What can I say after living here sixteen months I am either used to crazy drivers or have realized American drivers are too polite?

At any rate, the trip in total did get me home quicker than a bus (8 hrs.) or train (10-14 hrs) which made the second leg of the journey worth it. This brings me back to where I started…in my bed. Even though I now live in something on par with a dormitory minus all amenities(no tv and no internet—not allowed) plus sharing it with two unwelcome guests—spiders which went crazy as seen on my arm, neck and a few bites on my face and mold, the apartment to its credit has not one but two comfortable beds!!! Ahh I was able to sleep the next twelve hours in comfort and for now, my friends, that is all that matters.

NEW ADDRESS: Apt. 219, Str. N. Balcescu, Ramnicu Valcea, Jud. Valcea, Romania
And if you care to make a trip to the post office…

- I am in need of some Halloween candy for the upcoming 2^nd edition of a school party/fundraiser...and perhaps some taste testing by yours truly...

- Posters—a way to give my apt. a new feel (and to cover up the permanent mold). All posters welcome

- Key chain. Romanians have them but I can't seem to find one and I'm in desperate need of one

- CDs with movies on them. They must be VCD format or something else but NOT DVD; I don't have a dvd player on my laptop, big regret! If you can convert your dvds to this format or others you will be my new superhero. Seriously, I am not kidding!!!!

Mulţumesc frumos! (Thanks a lot)

When things begin to click

Mon, 27 Aug 2007 19:49:24 GMT

"How do I know that you're a Peace Corps volunteer, and furthermore how do I know that the money is from the U.S. gov't and will be used for the playground?"

The mayor of the village I work in asked those questions in response to why he wasn't contributing the funds he signed off on about four months ago for a project. I’ve been working there for over a year, of course I am a PCV and why else would I be here??? This is what I was thinking in addition to some not so nice things to say but thankfully I chose a more diplomatic route. I calmly told him I'd get letters (with stamps) proving that indeed I am a PCV and the org. I work with will use the money for its intended purpose. When my colleague saw that I was a tad confused/upset when the mayor refused to give money he promised Vali simply said "But no Adrianne, this is not America… things work differently here." His comment made me laugh again and think that yes indeed things are different but hopefully we can still finish the project by its intended completion date (Sept. 15^th).

The point with this story is patience. I am not exactly the most patient person (ok that’s a huge understatement)… but I am happy to say that with experiences like the one above my level of patience has grown considerably. Even though I accidentally taught Vali a bad English phrase (sob)...oops… we are both confident that we'll find a way to raise the extra money to cover costs. This is immensely significant because it shows he is not giving up but willing to put in extra time to make things work.

There is a point for PCVs where things just begin to click be it at work, language, relationships, etc and the moment is satisfying as one realizes things do come together. These past few weeks I’ve experienced that moment which is wonderful because this past year has been difficult for me in the sense that the 'clicking point' came much later than I thought it would. That said looking back I suppose it's good because now I'm a tad more patient than before (who would have ever thought...)!

Two weeks ago my sister and her boyfriend came for a short visit. At first they were taken back by some of my negative comments. Not having a sitemate nor talking to any Americans for sometime I just had to talk...to vent...to let things go. Being able to relax after a busy summer and just speak my mind was absolutely wonderful. Waiting to take 12 hr. ride to a conference shortly after she left the country I already felt refreshed. Such simple things as venting and relaxing with friends and family can do wonders I learn living some 3,000 odd miles away!

The mid-service conference was short—two days—too short for the amount of traveling (nearly 24 hrs.) on the Black sea. Note to all train riders: apparently there is a class 3 implying the hallways are filled to the max. Picture this: me taking a long flexible step over others while squeezing myself as much as possible while holding my backpack above me like a weightlifting maneuver in order to pass between people. Unless you like to sit on dirty floors, drink with already drunk folks, or dance with some local village men I don't recommend Class 3. At any rate, the weather was pleasant and food was good. PC even threw a BBQ, delicious! To top it off friends and I found a Mexican restaurant two towns down...let's just say the quesadilla I ordered would have been devoured in one minute if I had ignored table etiquette.

Last but not least the new director reminded us that we no longer have 400 days left but less (which I can't believe) and time will continue to go faster(of course). He talked about second year goals and urged us to think about what to accomplish before COS next year. Being a 'list person' I thought it was a good idea. So here's mine for the curious folks (in no particular order)...

-Work on becoming more of an assistant then manger to my orgs to promote sustainability...this will be a tough one!
-Remember my optimism (as my sister found out I've def. lost some of it)
-See to it that secondary projects can continue without me--EDAR fundraiser, Project Clean city, etc
-Help Asociatia Copiii Sperantei (the org. in the village) grow. This could be as simple as helping it maintain weekly meetings
-Make a good flour tortilla...all previous ones have failed and end up looking like pizza crusts or oddly shaped batter
-Cut in line when paying bills! If the little ole' ladies can cut in front of me all the time then so can I (maybe...)
-Enjoy myself
-Achieve at least advanced mid on my language exam by COS. I have a hard time learning language and since I work for an Eng. organization in my town this will be a challenge
-Convert one Romanian to American football...j/k

Roads, Bugs, and Camp

Wed, 11 Jul 2007 06:21:03 GMT

How long would you travel for a simple party with friends? Missing friends that live on the other side of the country I decided to attend a going away party in Onesti. It took me two buses for a grand total of ten hours! In other words I went across the state of Oregon simply to hang out with friends for two nights. For all of you who enjoy random facts I’m sure this one will impress you: the cost to improve roads here is 28.7 billion Euros! Imagine what the road construction season would be like should the gov’t suddenly try to fix all of the roads. Streets into main cities are usually in decent condition but expect a bumpy ride on country roads and traveling on dirt when inside a village. Not only that but it is uncommon to actually drive in a straight/efficient manner. On my way to Brasov en route to Onesti I got a lovely village tour since the bus basically traveled or rather bumped along in some weird loop formation.

I was looking forward to the drama camp my org. sponsors for a reason most wouldn’t expect: bugs. It seems that my “PC roughing experience” will be with these damn bugs. For the past six-seven months I have had numerous battles with mosquitoes, fleas, spiders, bed bugs, and who knows what else. (For the record, my apt. is cleaned every few weeks so it’s not dirt that brings them in.) To give you an idea of just how bad it has been I’ve surrendered to them by sleeping on the floor in my other room! On top of that my legs look like they suffered from chronic chicken pox. Prior to going to the drama camp I assumed being gone for a week would take care of them… but no, they’re back as I found out last night. What began as a loud scream/jump due to being surprised ended in me going on another rampage trying to get rid of these unwanted guests.

I have tried to no avail using Raid and since exterminators are quite rare I’m not sure what I will do. If my last efforts of spraying Raid all over, re-washing everything in site, in addition to leaving my flat for the next two weeks for vacation I’m considering tossing my couch out the window and permanently sleeping on the floor.

I never realized how strict, borderline militant Am. Summer camps were until I went to one put on by my org. A schedule of when we eat, where go, moving from place to place, and bed checks are not unusual at camps in America. Here not so much! People view them more as vacations. Apparently my scheduling of a three hour lunch and two hours of free time at night were not enough. The camp facility (basically a dormitory) was across from a zoo so every morning I got to hear the lion in a zoo (which is supposed to be shut down) roar… On the bright side I introduced the water balloon fight to the kids! I’m glad to say they thoroughly enjoyed it!

I got a cultural lesson in organization and one in a few embraced beliefs. Since workshops were done in hallways I simply sat down on the ground but kids put blankets down before sitting. Why, you ask??? “Your ovaries will freeze, and perhaps your back,” is the response I got. Seriously, I am not kidding many kids refused to sit down on the ground—especially if it is cement or a tad cold. Another time I joined teachers at the table but since there was little room I pulled up a chair at the corner. Promptly one told me to be careful because apparently sitting at the corner of a table is considered bad luck and one will probably not get married. Great not only will I never have kids but I will also miss out on marriage at some point in the future! If I am not married nor able to have children in ten years I will return to Romania and embrace the curent with full force including wearing cotton in my ears.

Asta e, Asta este viţa in Româniă! (Oh well, this is life in Romania)

ps. I have some funny pictures from the camp I'll try to post today.