My Neighbors with Disabilities

Maybe you can help me out with something. I have noticed something in my beautiful city of Tulcea that I noticed in Portugal and a little bit in other Romanian cities. It’s that I see, very regularly, people on the streets with physical disabilities with their legs or arms. These people are not using wheelchairs, and most of them appear to be dressed for work and that is why they are on the streets with me at 8:00 a.m. and 5:00 p.m. Some of these issues are minor, simply noticeable, while others are really quite…what we would call severe.

And I’m wondering: Is it because we’ve got more accessible health care in America that these issues are resolved in childhood? Is it because European countries are more accepting of people with disabilities that they are employed and not stared at on the street? Is it because American has a social security network that allows people with disabilities not to have to work?

American friends of mine here have seen a documentary about families who intentionally cripple their children for begging purposes. Horrifying, and I think this is something that happened in the past, maybe under Communism. But my people aren’t begging; like I said, it looks like they are headed to work like everyone else.

So please help me in my ignorance, until I’m more familiar with Romanian culture, to understand what is different here. Does anyone have an answer to this? Oh, and by the way, from my limited experience, Romania is in no way wheelchair accessible.

Random Curious Things

I finally found baking soda last night and made my best attempt at chocolate chip cookies. No chocolate chips, but dark chocolate bars that can be cut up. No brown sugar, but honey. No mixing bowl, but a couple of dinner bowls. No whisk but a potato masher. I took the cookies to my colleagues today who were sent over the moon. I am now a small hero.

We have a community of people with leprosy, somewhere here in Tulcea County. All the more reason to start an oral history program.

Last Sunday as I was boarding the bus to Bucuresti, I boarded following a man all in denim. The driver looked at my ticket and told me I was in seat 18 "langa caballero." Langa translates to "next to," and for those of you who speak Spanish, caballero translates to "cowboy." I did a double take as I realized the driver was mocking my perfectly pleasant seatmate. Later the driver stopped in the middle of the road to buy a watermelon from a roadside stand.

My counterpart Adela visited Retezat, another Romanian National Park, and brought me back brochures in both Romanian and English. One of the rules listed on the brochure is: "Protect the animals living in the Park, even if some of them may seem like pests or dangerous. For example, do not kill vipers, just turn and avoid them. You can be sure that they will not start running to catch you." It's not a translation thing since it reads just as funny in Romanian. Funny, but oddly reassuring.

I bought my own watermelon today from a woman selling them out of her yard. Tis the season and they are fantastic. And I can eat the whole thing for supper if I want to.

As of tomorrow, I'll have been in Tulcea for two weeks and it hasn't rained once.

Hallelujah

Exhaustion seems to be the general feeling, but I’ll try and get down a bit of my first week as an official Peace Corps volunteer. My service comes at a time when young American women and men are dying and suffering traumatic injuries serving in with a different government agency. One of my PC-mates has a brother who is due home soon from Iraq, but with no guarantee that he won’t go back. In addition, the husband of one of our language teachers, a Romanian, just returned home safely from his tour in Iraq with the Romanian Army which has deployed units to serve with the Americans. Lest we forget, we are fighting a couple of wars, and I am the lucky one who has the luxury of complaining about shower curtains.

I went to work on Monday, stayed home sick Tuesday and most of Wednesday, then tried again on Thursday. I wore a nice dress and put on make-up and jewelry figuring that even if I didn’t feel great, I could look decent. It worked. Adela, my counterpart, had a group of school kids visit in the morning and I got to introduce myself to them in Romanian. About three sentences worth. Then Bogdan, our biologist, was heading down south to Constanta to buy gas coupons and asked if I wanted to go. Sure, about an hour and a half away. We drove around looking for, and finally found, the office of a gas refinery where we acquired discount coupons for gasoline, evidently a program for government agencies such as ours. As we were walking around the refinery in our hardhats, I was regretting the dress, but it worked out fine. On the way home, we pulled off in his childhood village and I met his mother. We were there for about three minutes. I met a few other people this day. When I got home, I said to myself, “I met seven new people today. Can I go to bed now?” Friday was a slightly shorter day at the office, since we generally leave at 2 on Fridays.

In my time away from work, I have done precious little in the way of community integration. I have said hello to a few neighbors, but have been too tired and sick to get out and actually be proactive. I did walk around town on Saturday and visited two interesting museums, and am finding different ways to walk to work. But shamefully, I spent many hours last week playing computer solitaire and reading posts on facebook. It was so bad that on Saturday that I had a fit and erased all games from my computer. It had to be done. In my defense, I have purchased many housewares and am feeling settled. And I was in fact pretty sick.

Sunday I got on a bus and went to Bucuresti on official PC business. About 14 of us came to town for safety geek training. I think the official title was Warden training. They have us divided up into regions with volunteers in each region assigned as wardens in case of an emergency—anything from political unrest and terrorism to earthquakes, floods, and nuclear disasters. We wardens spent the day with staff members receiving training from our highly effective Eastern European Regional safety and security officer. Since not everyone is a safety geek like me, I’ll spare you the details. Just know that the Peace Corps has us covered.

Meanwhile I took advantage of being in the big town. First of all, it was really great to hang out with Americans. I know, I’d only been away for a week…but we got to commiserate a little bit and get some perspective from those who have gone before, and laugh at all of our new and ridiculous coping mechanisms (like computer solitaire!). And we ate well. Sunday night we went to a Mexican restaurant run by a Guatemalan man that came highly recommended. Very expensive and worth every penny. I had soft tacos with pork. While in town I also bought a guitar. Whew!! That will take the place of computer solitaire very nicely. Jared, another new volunteer, and I walked down this morning from the office to a recommended store that sells many kinds of beautiful wooden instruments made in Romania. We bought the cheapest guitars they had, but admired the mandolins, violins, and more unique Romanian string instruments. Unwilling to pay money for cases, we walked up the boulevard with our new guitars strapped ‘round our shoulders feeling that this must be a monumental moment in addition to being just plain funny. I saved money on lunch by sneaking extra breakfast food from our nice breakfast at the hotel, a very Romanian way to save a lei.

Mostly, I can’t stress enough how wonderful our Peace Corps staff people are, and some of my other volunteers, and some of the more seasoned volunteers who have been involved in our training. Whatever my PC experience turns out to be, I will not be living it alone. More than anything else, my expectation of being out there alone in the wilderness was false. I don’t know how it is in other countries where communication is not so instantaneous, but here in Romania we are like a family. There are many kinds of support and many resources available to us.

Now I’m back home on Monday night (oh yikes, it's actually Tuesday) getting ready to go back to work tomorrow. I was reminded that I should be very proud of myself for the simple act of going to work last Monday after just having moved in. Right now, as we new volunteers flail about, it really is 90% about showing up.

Because I could not stop for my body, it kindly stopped for me

Four days into the adventure and I'm on a sick day. Stomach cramps, although blessedly no vomiting and the diarrhea has stopped. Now just the inability to stand upright. Nothing serious. Exhaustion plus dehydration plus stress plus a lack of Gina's good home cookin'. I've had a lot of water today and some yogurt. And laid on my bed looking out the window at my willow tree. For all it's quietness during the evening and night, it's very noisy here during the day. Sounds like a lawnmower or other kind of landscaping device. Also some new birds. I'm just now looking at a big yellow and black bird the size of a small crow. It's call is like a strangled cat. I am very curious. Alas, I'm also sick and will go back to bed now.

Everything Goes Better with Mici

mic (meek)=small (singular masculine)
mica (meek-uh)=small (singular feminine)
mici (meech)=small (plural)

But just like we call a greasy, fat-laden treat a hot dog (which resembles in no way a dog that is hot) or a hamburger (which of course is not really ham), Romanians call their carnival food of choice "mici" maybe because in fact it is small. Mici is a fat little sausage, nicely spiced, and more like a raw italian sausage that needs to be cooked than an aged salami-type sausage. They are small enough that you order a few of them (or more) and get with them on the plate some rounds of bread and a blop of spicy mustard.

I ate mici for the first time last night at the river festival in Tulcea. Unlike many of the festivals that we all expect to attend, this one is not traditional but rather modern with carnival rides for children and loud mediocre heavy metal music. Well maybe it's good as far as heavy metal is concerned... I went yesterday with two different colleagues, in the afternoon with Adela and we visited the arts and crafts vendors from around the country. Ah to be rich. Then at night with Viorel, his wife and adorable little daughter. This was after Viorel came over to help me install a new propane tank for my stove. We ended up borrowing a wrench from the neighbor which was a great way for me to begin my community integration. I think I owe said neighbor some cookies.

Today I went shopping with Adela for housewears-sheets, towels, a pot, a pan, some silverwear, bathmat, hangers, etc. I had really wanted to just sleep today but I need to get a few things done as tomorrow I jump straight into work. Maybe to the piata today for some fruits and vegetables. The piata (I think it translates directly to Plaza) is a multifunctional word here. It can be a town center. But in practical terms it is a market, most like a farmers market where produce vendors sell the goods. There are also stores that sell dishes and canning jars. We also have a Penny Market in Tulcea. This is a chain grocery store most similar in the states to an Aldi, which I've never cared much for. But it's good to have at least one big grocery, and it's very close to my apartment.

Oh, and about my apartment. It's ridiculously huge. I have a spacious living room and a good sized bedroom, along with my sufficient kitchen and bathroom--lots of room for visitors. Finishing up some frozen pizza now, which I bought to tide me over until I obtained pot and pan. Victory! Now I can cook an egg. I could cook some chicken, too, I suppose. But I think I need some time away from the pui. Maybe now is the beginning of the mici phase...

I am a Peace Corps Volunteer

Training ended officially on Friday with our swearing-in as Peace Corps volunteers. The Charge De Affairs from Bucuresti came and administered the official oath, the one where we swear to defend the constitution against all enemies foreign and domestic, and then we ate ham and cake, took a lot of pictures, and said goodbye to our gazdas, our volunteer friends, and PC staff members. Most of these people we will see again at our next training session in December and throughout our service. One person I will miss is Daniel. He lives in Targoviste and was hired to find gazdas for us and to run the home-stay program. Daniel worked for eight years in London as a concierge at a hotel. Not surprisingly, he functioned often as our concierge, taking care of any problems that we could create. And always with a smile. We also have a really great country director, Ken. He is leaving us in the next few months as his term here is expiring. He is one of those leaders who spoil you for most everyone else, so I am happy to have met him and glad that he has set the bar high for not only our service but for what being a PC staff member can be. Too many other good people to mention here now.

I immediately got on a bus after swear-in yesterday to make it to Tulcea for today's river festival. A bit bittersweet, as you can imagine, with all the excitement, nervousness, sadness, happiness, and relief. Not a rollercoaster, mind you, but all jumbled in the little heart together. Off to see the wide blue world.

Another wonderful moment this week was the results of the language test. The 30 minute oral conversation exam was not probably a wonderful moment, although I enjoyed it. But I scored very well, higher than I had expected. I reached my goal that I had set for myself at the beginning; I think I'm most pleased that I worked so hard and it paid off. Here's hoping that's a winning trend. Veronica, Gina my gazda, me, and DavidTwo of our language instructors, Krisztina and Octavian
Bang Jin and other new volunteers
Shaneka and me, new volunteers

Man-Capris

Saying goodbye to new friends is doubly hard when they make you laugh on a daily basis. Fashion is one topic in which we often find humor. Example: Thursday I wore a navy tank top with a black sweater. Connie, who dresses fabulously in grass-greens and jewel purple said to me that at home her friends would say that you can't wear navy and black together, but that I carried it off well. I laughed and though to myself that the real problem with the outfit was that I hadn't washed my jeans in over a month. Glad she didn't notice THAT! Also, David coined the term man-capri for the below knee level of many pant/shorts that men wear here, particularly in faded denim. He questioned the seasonal-specific nature of them being uneconomical, but I pointed out that by adding socks to the fisherman sandals, it's really a three season look. I've seen an older gentleman a couple of times in his swanky khaki man-capris with black socks and black fisherman sandals and it's really quite a nice outfit.

The other foolproof joke is about bacon krax. Courtney has a photo of me huffing bacon krax. It's this potato chip-like snack that is bacon flavored and striped like bacon. It's remarkably tasty and a little addictive. She took pictures of all of us enjoying this crazy weird snack. We can also get regular potato chips in roasted chicken flavor. Really not so bad here, huh?

The Talent Show

The highlight of our week was a talent show on Thursday which, honestly, was far to brilliant to have ever been scripted. I sang a song, which follows. And we had a thespian do Shakespeare in Romanian, a roller derby queen, animal impressions, ballet to rap, and other performances too unique to our situation to describe. And one woman showed us how she could bend her fingers back all the way to the back of her hand. Anyway, here's my contribution. Sorry it's sideways.

A Brief Discussion of Diversity in Romania

My city and county of Tulcea has a large number of ethnic and religious minority groups that, happily, residents seem to be very proud of. When I learn more about my neighbors there, I will write about them. In the meantime, we have had many cultural and historical sessions focused on different groups of people living in Romania.

The generally acknowledged largest minority group is the Rroma, formerly and elsewhere known as the Gypsies. I say generally acknowledged because census figures do not accurately calculate their numbers. Many do not have birth certificates or any official government paperwork, making them unwilling to participate in a census. In a short space here, they are descended from migrant people who came from India around 1000 years ago, making their way up through Iran, maybe through Greece, and into Eastern Europe. Although Romania is thought of as the home of the Rroma, we know that Rroma are scattered all over the world. For hundreds of years, until 1856, Rroma were enslaved in Romania; and today there is a harsh discrimination against the Rroma not unlike we have experienced in America with our country-mates descended from Africans and with the crushing baggage of slavery. Romania and the Rroma suffer the vicious cycle: Rroma kids aren’t welcome at school because they are dirty and smelly, some kids are dirty and smelly because they live in severely overcrowded apartments without running water because no one in their family can get a job because they are uneducated, they are all lumped in as being beggars, but many of them beg because they need to feed their children. Etcetera. Many of us will be working directly with Rroma communities and children, and I’ve heard some wonderful stories already of volunteer projects. If nothing else, we can recognize their humanity. I think that my local horse-cart man who comes around looking for scrap metal is Rroma. Many of the women do wear traditional colorful clothing, but it’s not often possible to identify them by sight. They are called “black” because some of them do have dark skin like people from India, but not all of them.

The census says that the largest minority in Romania are the Hungarians. In the central part of the country, in the Transylvania region, there are more than a million Hungarians. The border between Hungary and Romania has changed in the past, most recently during WWI, when Romania got the land back. But our Hungarians are not immigrants from Hungary. Rather, back in the 9th century, the Huns came west from the Ural Mountains and settled in Transylvania, then moving on to what is now Hungary. Ethnographers generally consider Transylvania to be the cradle of Hungarian society. And by the way, Transylvania is the area inside the horseshoe of the Carpathian mountains. The name Transylvania—it should come as no surprise—translates into between (trans) the woods (Sylvania) but basically means between the mountains, since that’s where the forests are. Some PC volunteers in Romania live in Hungarian speaking sites and must learn both languages. Ugh!! Romanian language is a walk in the park compared to Hungarian. Of course there have been ethnic tensions in the past, but today Hungarians have legislated representation in the government, and according to Romania’s minority rights law, the Hungarians have the right to educate in the Hungarian language.

I should say that the idea of time is very different here, in that borders do change and people do not give up their ethnic identity in order to fit into a politically based nationalist framework. We are not all Romanians. We identify with our ethnic heritage first. In America, I think that the first one or two generations of immigrants may feel that way, but we are more likely to leave those identities behind in favor of being “American.”

Today we learned a little bit about German and Jewish people in Romania, though sadly both groups are now nearly gone. Half the Jews of Romania were killed in the Holocaust, many of them at the hands of Romanians who established their own sort of death camps, and many—like Elie Wiesel’s family—who were deported to Germany and killed in camps there. After the war, Romania found willing buyers in both the German government and the new government of Israel who paid money to get their people out of the now communist regime. I have learned that my city, Tulcea, does actually have a synagogue and a Jewish cemetery, although any Jewish people still in Romania are probably quite elderly. My question of course is whether or not anyone is collecting their oral histories. I’ve been asking this a lot lately. Hmm, could be a project in it for me.

I should note as well that the Rroma were also persecuted and killed during the Holocaust. I don’t know too much about that here in Romania yet.

In addition, Romania has its share of Greeks, Turks, Russians, Ukrainians, Italians, Bulgarians, Slavs, and of course some Americans. My goal is to learn about these various communities by getting to know people in them—maybe some dancing and singing and drinking of coffee. Meanwhile here in Targoviste I’ve found that the most fun to be had on Sunday (before pizza and homework) is going to church with my gazda and Catholic friends and having cake with the nuns. Go figure.

Safety Sometimes

I couldn't resist snapping this picture of a worker putting his ladder up against the power lines in order to service said lines. His friend stood at the bottom smoking a cigarette and occasionally holding the ladder. Enjoy, you safety geeks. Speaking of safety geeks, I am my designated regional safety geek and get to go to safety geek camp. Each PC country must prepare an emergency action plan in case anything goes awry in country--from political unrest that sent PC Madagascar home, to floods, earthquakes and other natural disasters, to things like a nuclear catastrophe--we must be prepared to take action and get people out of harm's way. So the PC in Romania has broken the country into about eight regions and assigned a volunteer to be the warden of that region. In case of an emergency, that person is responsible for keeping track and rounding up the volunteers in that region. Naturally, I've been selected for my region. Don't worry, the responsibility is not great; we only have maybe five people in my region. But I get to go to safety geek camp! Basically back to Bucuresti a week after arriving at site to learn what to do.

By the way, another way Romania is like California is that we are the most seismically active country in Europe. Seems there's a big fault running under the eastern part of the country.