Playing the Beatles in Romania

My title today is a riff on a book called Reading Lolita in Tehran that alas I haven't read, but have read good things about. Evidently this memoir includes stories of a book club and their reading of taboo western literature. Here in Romania, I've been told, exposure to Beatles records in the years before the revolution was akin to a light breaking through the slats in the door, proof of the existence of an outside, a benchmark in memory now to some small grain of hope.

The opposite of light arrived in my mailbox today in the form of Herta Muller's acclaimed The Land of Green Plums about life in Romania under Ceausescu. The opposite of light in that way that we need the darkness to define what light is, to appreciate a state of mind and being that I take for granted being an American. I've barely cracked the spine, so I cannot yet give an account of Muller's story. But she offers this quote as a taste:

Everyone had a friend in every wisp of cloud
that's how it is with friends where the world is full of fear
even my mother said, that's how it is
friends are out of the question
think of more serious things.
Gellu Naum

And so we begin.

Mary Oliver writes, in The Leaf and the Cloud (oh, how much my favorite!), "Oh, heart, I would not dangle you down into the sorry places, but there are things here as well to see, to imagine...we too are down here in such darkness." I feel like I will not know Romania if I do not reach down into this darkness and learn its murky truths. So I'm pleased to have the Muller. And I'm pleased to be meeting my new connections in the social service world in Tulcea, dark as that history may be and as exhausing as it's making me in my initial forays. It is where I need to be if any of this is to make sense.

In the meantime, the sun is up, the sky is blue, it's beautiful, and so are you, Dear Prudence. Maybe it's time I fall in love with the Beatles.

Merry Christmas, Hospital Staff

After two falls on my bum in the past week, I finally nailed a good black ice fall on to my left knee. I was on my way to a Christmas breakfast invitation when I hit a patch of what looked like dry cleared sidewalk. I ripped a hole in my lovely corduroy pants and a bigger hole into the skin just below my knee. A nice bunica watched the whole thing and fetched some gauze for me. I then proceeded on to breakfast. At which point my hostess informed me that I needed stitches immediately. I countered that I don't do anything without the approval of PC Bucuresti and since it was Christmas morning, I wasn't going to bother anybody yet. Fortunately, immediately meant after breakfast. And then I got Dr. Dan on the phone who said he was only drinking coffee and it was no bother.

So we went to the hospital where I received prompt and courteous care, the nurse plucking stones out of the gaping, yet oddly bloodless, wound. Then because I'm special, I got novocaine shots--not, evidently, standard procedure; I don't know if this was because I'm an American with a diplomatic ID card, the persuasive voice of Dr. Dan on the phone, or just a little Christmas spirit. But the way he manhandled the stitching effort, my knee was happy to not really be there for it.

It reminded me a little bit of all the other times I've had stitches, and maybe that's worth enumerating: four years old fell out of a tree landing on my face and teeth punching through just below my lip; fell on glass in the yard at our new home in Indiana, right knee, age 5; sister hit my face with a shovel just above my right eye, we think it was an accident, maybe age 7; high school track hurdles falling incident, right knee, still have some gravel; roof of mouth 18 months ago for gum surgery (curiously the problem teeth from incident number one), which I had redone because it didn't take the first time (they removed a piece of skin from the roof of the mouth, then set it in the gumline). I think I've done pretty well avoiding stitching for the most part all these years.

I then bought some antibiotics and came home to rest. I had planned to go to a new Romanian friend's house next door for Christmas dinner with some new American friends. And then to a church service with American carols sung with Romanian words. I ended up sitting both of those out and enjoying my pie at home. And carefully sewing up the hole in my precious corduroys.

While it's not the type of Christmas you would expect someone to enjoy, it wasn't bad actually. People were very kind and generous to me with their time, efforts, and care. What lovely gifts to have received! Oh, I got some great tangible gifts in the mail too, including a new backpack, a trove of socks and undies, tea, cookies, soap, puzzles, booties, and my 2010 unicef datebook. Oh, kind and generous family of mine!! And of course, I got a great story which you must know by now I cherish above most else.

Merry Christmas Eileen

I was hoping I would find the inspiration to write a long Christmas post about what it all means. This may turn out long, but I'm short on answers. The obviously thing to tell about is the caroling with orphans Tuesday night. But first, the American connection. Mary is from Texas and has worked here in Tulcea eight years with an organization called Noroc. They are a faith-based organization that works with orphanages here. I contacted Mary to get an English-language explanation of the nature of social services here in Tulcea. I'm slowly getting that, but first I got an invitation to Tuesday's events. The carolers were a group of late teen/early twenties youth who came up in the Noroc orphanages. Now they are working or at university--a very nice group of young men and women. Also included were the Romanian director, his wife, a couple of other staff and volunteers. We started out singing at an elder home to about thirty residents. Then we distributed plastic bags with gifts, simple but appreciated. Then on to two different small homes with orphaned children where we sang just one or two songs but then gave presents and had some laughs. Mary explained to me that these homes, while overcrowded, were the best in town and sort of the "show" homes. After our adventuring, we went back to the Noroc house and had a nice party with lots of good food and more stories.
I enjoyed this time very much but was disheartened by many things Mary told me, including the decline in available services in her eight years here and the still-rampant corruption in the government agency designated for child services. Still, the young people in our group are a testament to the work that they have done: productive, social, engaged. Mary told me that they each have a story of tragedy and despair that would curl my hair, such as the young woman who just graduated university who was told and treated as though she was retarded much of her young life. So there is hope and there is progress. I hadn't realized until recently the long sordid reputation of Romanian institutions. And a recent BBC expose shows that existing still in Romania are the nightmarish homes of old (slow to load, be patient).

A funny aside, they all loved my hair and couldn't believe it was real and had to touch it and talk about it. Yay, points for funny hair being a good conversation starter. Must keep the hair.

As I've been off work this week, I've had a grand amount of found time. I've finished my books, so I went out yesterday and bought some colored pencils and drawing paper. In my life I have twice amassed art supplies and twice lost them, once in a move and once in the mud. I am not at all talented in the manual arts, but I love to give it a try and am always inspired by my friends, particulary Holly who can make many a beautiful thing from her wildly creative mind. My idea of being arty usually involves a glue stick, which those of you who received a Christmas card may have noticed. I was not overly prolific with my cards this year, so I apologize and offer here a taste: And on the back I pasted the following poem, by Atef Ayadi:

Merry Christmas
Merry Christmas
Shoppers, and
Poor women and poor men
With wallets
And without.

Merry Christmas
Whoever is in his or her little cell,
Little box,
In jail for a day
Or for life
For whatever reason.

Merry Christmas
Merry past Christmas
Merry present Christmas
Merry future Christmas
Without exception,
Segregation,
Or exclusion.

Merry Christmas
Believers
Non-believers
people from
earth,
Mars,
Or another galaxy.

Merry Christmas
new born,
Children,
Orphans,
Children who are left behind,
And future humanity.

Merry Christmas
Street’s poets,
Merry Christmas
Low-wage happy faces,
And the running delivery man.

Merry Christmas
Singles,
Single mothers,
Single fathers,
And lonely adventurer
In the wilderness.

Merry Christmas,
Streets,
Trees,
Lakes,
Mountains
Forests,
And prairies
Of America.

Merry Christmas,
Who is attached to the past
And who is planning for the future.

Merry Christmas soldier.
Merry Christmas soldier.
Merry Christmas soldier.
Merry Christmas
Policeman,
And firefighter.

Merry Christmas
My friends
My street mates
My Café mates, and
My bus mates.

Merry Christmas
The cheerful,
The antagonistic
The angry
The bored
The one who feels it is not worth it
The one who is almost there
The one who cannot make it.
The one who will not make it.

Merry Christmas
Who is sleeping,
And who is dreaming,
Who is on the road,
Who is traveling
By
Plane,
Boat,
Car,
Or who is orbiting
Around the planet.

Merry Christmas
Mexicans,
Africans,
Asians,
And the European:
The first who came
And the last who are trying.
Merry Christmas
The lost and found
Merry Christmas Native America.

Merry Christmas Eileen.
Merry Christmas
America.

And now I sit in my pleasant little apartment roasting a chicken to make chicken and biscuits for my supper. Tomorrow I will go somewhere for dinner. I have a theoretical invitation from a Peace Corps staffer in Bucuresti who is from Tulcea. If she calls with details, I will join her family. Otherwise, I have two back-up invitations from warm Tulcea locals that I have met in my social service travels. Later this afternoon I will venture down to the post office for Thursday customs hours to see if any more Christmas presents have arrived. I'm awaiting the king's riches from family and a surprise TJ's package too. These riches bless...

And finally, maybe not the best gift (although maybe, can't tell yet) but the best timed gift, was a very thoughtful email from my friend Tom about the sustainability of what we try and do in our work and in this life. In the Corps we are encouraged to make any project that we undertake sustainable so that it can be continued long after we are gone. Good point, don't you think? One problem with this is that it's so hard to get anything going, let alone wondering if it's sustainable. Then also, thinking back to all the work I've done in the past, wondering if anything I started at, let's say, Manzanar is still being done. Sue had nearly 40 years to make the pilgrimage sustainable and it's fate is always in question even now. But Tom not only shared personal stories of failure and success at sustainability, but also some key advice for the frame of mind going in. Tom, I hope you don't mind if I share: "All I can do is try to make the things I am doing better and hope that as I move on in my career I can mentor and model the people and activities which help to change the way we do our work. I guess the lasting legacy that I have is the people I have worked with who move on to other places. These people will carry on the same tradition of making places better than they were before they came and will hand it off to others before helping another place do the same. You are one of those people and I know that not only is Romania becoming a better place from your contributions, but you are as well, as you carry these experiences to your next adventure."

So merry christmas to all of you and warm wishes for the inspiration to keep on doing those things that really matter--to you, to your community, and to the world. And to do it with love in our hearts and light in our souls. And with extreme and humble gratitude for the opportunity.

Oh Romania

And because this whole experience really is all that, tomorrow evening I'm going caroling with orphans.

We've Made it This Far

Bless the solstice, the coming of more light. We have an unforecasted sunny day today, brilliant with the snow. It seems Europe and the east coast of America have experienced a similar fate over the past week. We will all have a white Christmas. But today I'm more in love with the light and the promise of more to come. And it's not overly bad here--sun from 7:30 to 4:00. But it's been such an overcast November and December that I hardly remember the sun.

And today, I went to work and no one was there. So I'm guessing we're not working this week. All the more reason to celebrate since we barely have heat in the office, and--truth to tell--not a lot of light either. The only downside is that I'd hoped to scan Matei's medical certificate today so I could email it around. Honestly, though, what can I expect anyone to do with it Christmas week. In the meantime, because I cannot seem to sit idle, I've emailed an American woman who runs an orphanage here in Tulcea. I want some advice (in English) about how the system works here. She responded so positively, and I hope we can have coffee or lunch some day this week, or maybe next. She's been here 8 years and knows the ropes a bit more. And maybe it was her orphanage that the American military folks down the road helped build a new building for (a story relayed to me by the Ambassador). We'll see.

I still wait for a new radiator for my living room, but I've got a great electric space heater which also serves double duty for drying laundry. So no complaints. And cookies and cake from the store, more oranges, and good tea. Sunshine and internet. And now some free time.

Godforsaken

Ventured out into the very snowy and cold day here in Tulcea to visit Matei’s family once again. I wanted to take them some oranges and to pick up a copy of his medical certificate. I found a French NGO in Bucuresti that may be able to help the family, but they need the official county form outlining his disabilities (and with the stampila, naturally). Also I think I can visit the local Red Cross office with his certificate as well. I wasn’t sure if the Red Cross here does more than disaster relief, but they do. Also the family told me they have been to the Red Cross but were told nothing can be done until after the holidays. So Monday I will fax a copy of the certificate to Bucaresti and perhaps pay a social visit to the Red Cross and…and what? Throw my American-ness around? Like they don’t have a line of Matei’s that they are dealing with? I don’t know. Anyway, I had a nice cup of coffee with the family, received a very nice crocheted bag with sunflowers on it as a gift, and left feeling a blend of discouragement and warmth. Hurrying home for a 4 p.m. appointment with my radiator repairman who has not yet arrived as I write at 6:30. Fear not, I have space heater back-up. There is no frozen toilet in my Peace Corps experience.

The discouragement won out on the long walk home through the snow. I have read a couple of articles in the past week (probably in the NYTimes) about Romania orphanages of the past: really gruesome and abusive Dickensonian places. And even though we’ve come a long way here in twenty years, it is easy still to apply the word Godforsaken to that time. Romania did not forsake God, as did the Soviet bloc countries; Orthodoxy was allowed to exist under Ceascescu. But on my walk home, I contemplated that it appears on the surface that God forsook Romania. Please I beg you forgive my apparent blasphemy. Who am I to know the mind of God? And my favorite Christian friends (bless you Jenn, Mom, Veronica, Chris and Julie) are the ones who adamantly oppose any of this nonsense that rich people have been favored by God and poor people somehow are poor as a result of their sin. And so I would not suggest that God plays favorites and Romania got the short end of the stick. Buddhists, to simplify painfully my modest understanding, believe that inside each of us lives the thing that is God. We each have the responsibility/opportunity to live our lives in the manner of an enlightened teacher such as Jesus, expressing the light of the Divine within ourselves. And somehow, to return to my point, the Divine light left Romania high and dry, and it’s hard to get it back.

And crunching through the snow home in the dwindling afternoon light, I thought of Joan Osborne’s song about God, which I’ve heard here on the bus radio:

If God had a name what would it be
And would you call it to his face
If you were faced with him and all his glory
What would you ask if you had just one question

Yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
What if God was one of us
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin’ to make his way home

Or if you prefer: This little light of mine, I’m gonna let it shine, let it shine, let it shine, let it shine

Are you confused and angry yet? Welcome to Romania.

Gulag Relapse

Today I have been given the gift of some writings of a friend's grandfather who spent time in the 1940s in a Soviet gulag camp. And as I'm trying to track down the location of his camp, I'm thinking of some of the people I met while involved in bringing the Gulag exhibit to Manzanar. Particularly, I'm thinking of Bill, the Polish man I met at the conference at Harvard. He was 14 when his family was taken by train east across the Siberian landscape. Going through a village, the local people, Bill told, pushed loaves of bread and melons through the high small windows of the train cars using long sharpened sticks. Can you imagine the sacrifice? I imagine there is a metaphor here, but maybe it's just enough today to remember. And encourage my friend in his valiant mission to share his grandfather's story.

Snowy Day

We got our first snow storm of the season today in Tulcea and around much of the country. My morning started with a beauty of a slide, as if into home plate, landing not only on my fund (butt) but on the oranges I bought to take to work. A bit juiced, I'm afraid. Later in the morning I ventured out again to have coffee with Doamna Maria, my foundation woman. Somehow I was able to extract more useful information out of her regarding the nature of social services in Romania. I took her some oranges too, and cozonac--a traditional slightly sweet bread. She fed me fish. Then back to the office to work my project plan into something that helps my director visualize just what on earth I'm talking about. Who knows what will come of all of this, but I am busy and that makes me happy. Oh, OK, the snow makes me happy too. It really is beautiful. Even if the absolute lack of snowplows and shovels makes it a bit treacherous. Women were out sporadically with plastic dustpans shoveling the sidewalks in front of stores. Also the bald condition of many tires contributed to traffic at a standstill in many areas (except for those winners with chains!). This prompted the unusual but heartwarming sight of spontaneous help from bystanders pushing cars to get them moving again.

I Laughed Like There was No Tomorrow

I have a good excuse for my silence here, as for the past week I was attending our Peace Corps In-Service Training. All the volunteers from my group got together for some more language classes, technical sessions, and project design training. That's the official line, anyway, for the gross expenditure of taxpayer dollars. But really...

We laughed and laughed and laughed, and danced (romanian and american), and partied. Some of us drank heavily, some of us made out with cute guys, some cried, some yelled, some got very little sleep, we all ate s'mores round a campfire. And blessedly, we laughed some more. I hadn't realized how little laughing I'd been doing. As you know, dear reader, my life is pretty contented here and some days I would definitely say happy. But to laugh...oh, the joy of it.

Also, the sign of a good conference, I've come home with lots of ideas. Our counterparts joined us the last two days and we had some great sessions on how we can best work together to be of true service to our communities. Adela was such a great sport, joining us for dinner and laughing with us. And giving me the freedom to be with my friends.

And then we said goodbye, and it was a bit of a hollow feeling coming home on the train/bus. Gotta say though, I've been having lingering laughing syndrome all day today. And I thank them all, these friends of mine: Veronica, D, and the posse, CornyB, J-Ball, Erin, Susan, the baby bird team, Teddy Tubs, Shaneka, the pretty girls in the hall without pants, the "old" ladies (dancing circles around us), Dr. Dan and his grandfather, the popcorn girl, Andy-am-I-going-to-have-to-call-your-mother?, the 4-H leader, and Ken and Betsy proving the PC values truly good leadership.

Here are a few shots that I'm "borrowing" from Joslyn (surfer babe in the red beanie), including dance class with our Romanian language staff.

A Small Holiday Gift for you Romanian PCVs

Gretel's sister is here again. No, not as a guest blogger, but as a blog hacker!! But it's in good spirit!!!

In your honor, a donation has been made to This American Life so that the podcast feed can continue to reach you all in Romania. Gretel has spoken of her wish to do a This Romanian Life episode. Maybe Ira Glass will come calling!!

Happy holidays to you all (suffering this week at a resort in the mountains!) and may you each share in your community's festivities and good cheer!

Can You Stand Another List?

It occured to me after yesterday's mememememememewantwantwantwantwantwantwantwant post that perhaps I should explain that I haven't been meditating lately and have somehow left the present moment to be tended to by the neighborhood cats. I should also say that it's never about the hair, and I need to get over that want right now. So in the spirit of returning to my not-unpleasant little life here in Romania, here's a new list. And while I might get sidetracked on a few of them, I really am grateful for:
1. The big bowl of baked winter squash I'm presently enjoying with a little salt and maple syrup, the kind they tell me is what's fed to pigs.
2. Clementines and mandarines in the piata coming up from Greece and Spain.
3. A day out of the office today to visit people in the field, none of whom were there. In their defense, I didn't have appointments. Because the telephone is so impossible, and my work now should be in the field, and I kind of enjoy the bus rides, I just show up. Even ten minutes with an underling is worth something.
4. My wonderful tutor Aurelia. I just can't express enough gratitude about her. She comes over three evenings a week for a couple of hours and mostly we just converse and she corrects me. I make tea, serve some cake (or tonight, citrus fruit) and we chat. She gets paid. I have a friend.5. Heat. Two nights ago a nice man came and properly turned on my radiators. Seems like it should have been easy enough for me to do, but my neighbor told me the previous tenant had leaks. I thought it best left to the professional. A little too hot in here now because it's still pretty warm out. But I'm prepared.
6. My good health. I got a regular flu shot a couple of months ago. Gripa porcina is here in Romania, but I don't know anyone with it here yet. And we may be getting that shot too, as soon as it's available for us. My chronic diarrhea is gone for now, although I was feeling mighty skinny when I wasn't retaining my food. Asa. This is better.
7. New books from the PC bookshelf. In Bucuresti there is a volunteer lounge at PCHQ with a borrowing bookshelf. I came home last week stocked up. Enjoying now a Margaret Atwood.
8. A new hat. No, not the one I was knitting which has now become a bag. I bought this one at the artists' store. Handmade local. 9. The where-with-all to make at least a few Christmas cards and get them out on time.
10. Good shoes. My Keen (winter) wonder shoes are all that and more: walking around in mud, looking presentable at the office, navigating the cobbled streets, generally being the one-shoe.

So Much for the Habit

After 30 days of blogging (or at least outsourcing it) you’d think I could keep it going. We’ll see. Anyway, here are my thoughts for the day and it comes in the form of a want list:

1. I want to live in India and really be in the thick of it.
2. I want to spend a month at the Plum Village Buddhist Monestery in France after I’m done with my Peace Corps service.
3. I want to move home now and get a good job back with the NPS.
4. I want somebody to drop an aspirator in my lap.
5. I want to cut my hair off.
6. I want pretty, impractical clothes (maybe that’s related to India…).
7. I want some Vince Guaraldi to replace the Elvis and Bing in my office (sorry Alisa).
8. If Trisha’s brother has to go to Afghanistan, I want him to build a school.
9. I want the new baby in the family to be healthy and happy. All babies, actually. All people, actually.
10. I want to live to be 100 because it’s all so damn interesting.

On the upside this morning, as I was walking down my street on the way to work, I noticed an older man standing on his stoop smiling at the sleek black cat on a tree limb by the building. The kitty seemed distressed about how to get out of the tree—which was, by the way, about 4 feet off the ground. I noticed the cat and laughed and noticed the man, smiling at the cat, who then exchanged the smile with me (the man, not the cat who wasn’t having any of the smiling).

Matei

I met a little boy this morning who is three years old with severe developmental disabilities. His mother wrote a heartwrenching email to Doamna Maria with whom I've met to do some weekend volunteering. She turned the email over to me saying something about me having friends in America. More to the point, actually, is that I have friends in Romania. And as I'm trying to figure out the resources available in my county (which evidently are limited and have been exhausted), I've also sent out emails to current and former volunteers who may have information about national resources. In addition to the obvious financial burden, the immediate needs include medical supplies and medicine, most pressing an aspirator. I'm reluctant to simply solve the problem with money because this family needs a sustainable source of support for their child, who by the way is beautifully beautiful as any three-year-old would be.

If you happen to know of organizations in the States who have a mission related to this and may work internationally, or any other good or creative ideas, leave me a note here. I'm a little out of my element, but I like a good challenge.

Oh, and Matei is the Romanian version of Matthew.

And the thankful moment today: Spanish clementines at the piata and a nice email from the Hendersons with memories of home.