Here's the view from yesterday's walk:
Thursday, February 25, 2010
How Could I Forget the Chickens?
When I was preparing to go to Madagascar this time last year, I read one PC woman's blog there about finally having chickens on her lap on the bush taxi-an anticipated eventuality. Here in Romania I have often laughed at situations and thought, well it could be worse--I could have chickens on my lap. I have already seen two live geese in a plastic shopping bag on the train, their heads sticking out in calm observation. Then at New Years, a man carried a lamb through the train asking for money. Yesterday, though, while not quite achieving said chickens, we came so close that I can almost count it. I've seen people carrying hole-punched boxes away from the piata with the sound of peeping chicks. Tis the season. Last year this time, Dad mail ordered new chicks which arrived in very similar boxes. So I get on the bus out to Hamcearca and the woman destined to be my seat-mate tries to get on the bus with her box of chicks. Alas the bus driver made her put them in the luggage section in back. Although I felt it not my place to speak up for the chicks, you must imagine my disappointment in not achieving my Madagascar moment. For such a short-lived dream, Madagascar still dies hard.
Here's the view from yesterday's walk:
Here's the view from yesterday's walk:
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Bloody Hell. They're Right!
Just like we Americans stereotypically associate the sum of Romanian history with the false myth of Dracula, so sometimes do Romanians mistake the America of television with the real thing.
Today I went out to Hamcearca, the village with the teachers who have welcomed me the warmest so far. Being a warm day (though foggy and threatening rain) I chose to walk a good part of the 12 kilometers from the bus stop to the school, down a very scenic country road past a lake and the mountains. I even turned down a caruta ride (one of my dreams) because it felt so good to be walking and to be outside. Finally, the rain came on and I hitched a ride in a grocery truck.
I spent an hour with the 8th grade class and an hour with the 7th grade class. In the future I hope to do some environmental lessons and work my way into the oral history with grandparents project. But for today, I just talked to them about me, America, life as a 14 year old, etc. I thought I would have all of these opportunities to debunk myths. Alas, what do they know about America? Barack Obama, our first black president; the Mississippi River; Mt. Rushmore (although the teacher was disappointed to find out it was Teddy, not F.D. Roosevelt, because she's a fan of the New Deal. Nary a myth to debunk.
Later I got a ride on the school bus back to where I get my county bus home to Tulcea. The bus driver overheard me talking to the kids about living in California. So he starts in, finally, on stuff he's learned from television about California. Yay! Let's debunk myths! He talks about the horrible fires around Los Angeles last year. As he's talking about LA I explain I don't live near LA. Oh, fires, though; yeah we have fires. And as we go on to talk about floods and earthquakes, I can't pretend--for example with television and gun violence that it may happen but it's not a part of our everyday lives like they show on the TV--that fire, flood, and earthquakes (incendiu, inundatie, cutremur) aren't a part of our everyday lives in California. I just had to nod my head and say, "Ya got me; that's California."
Today I went out to Hamcearca, the village with the teachers who have welcomed me the warmest so far. Being a warm day (though foggy and threatening rain) I chose to walk a good part of the 12 kilometers from the bus stop to the school, down a very scenic country road past a lake and the mountains. I even turned down a caruta ride (one of my dreams) because it felt so good to be walking and to be outside. Finally, the rain came on and I hitched a ride in a grocery truck.
I spent an hour with the 8th grade class and an hour with the 7th grade class. In the future I hope to do some environmental lessons and work my way into the oral history with grandparents project. But for today, I just talked to them about me, America, life as a 14 year old, etc. I thought I would have all of these opportunities to debunk myths. Alas, what do they know about America? Barack Obama, our first black president; the Mississippi River; Mt. Rushmore (although the teacher was disappointed to find out it was Teddy, not F.D. Roosevelt, because she's a fan of the New Deal. Nary a myth to debunk.
Later I got a ride on the school bus back to where I get my county bus home to Tulcea. The bus driver overheard me talking to the kids about living in California. So he starts in, finally, on stuff he's learned from television about California. Yay! Let's debunk myths! He talks about the horrible fires around Los Angeles last year. As he's talking about LA I explain I don't live near LA. Oh, fires, though; yeah we have fires. And as we go on to talk about floods and earthquakes, I can't pretend--for example with television and gun violence that it may happen but it's not a part of our everyday lives like they show on the TV--that fire, flood, and earthquakes (incendiu, inundatie, cutremur) aren't a part of our everyday lives in California. I just had to nod my head and say, "Ya got me; that's California."
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Matei Update
In a roundabout way, I have sort of contributed to a short reprieve in Matei's emergency situation. Here's what has happened so far:
Mary with NOROC Agency got a $500 donation from someone in the states for his medicine. Problem is, as I mentioned, we can't find his meds here in Romania. Oh and believe you me I've got people working on that. In the meantime, we sat down with his mother and brainstormed about who we might know in Italy. I'd heard of a couple of volunteers going there for winter school break. Could they help? Finally, Matei's mother offered that her husband's coworker might have a relative in Italy. Sure enough. So Mary wired money to the woman in Italy who then went to a few pharmacies there to find all of the meds. In Italy you don't need a prescription (although the receipt included 11 euro for coffee and chocolates for the pharmacist presumably in lieu of a prescription). And then Matei's mother received the three month supply of medicine last week. OK, breathe a big sigh of relief. But not too big a sigh because three months will pass quickly and this is not a long-term solution.
Meanwhile, I'm communicating with a Romanian pharmaceutical executive. I crashed a social service conference here in Tulcea. We've had meetings with important people. I've sent letters and emails to international agencies that may or may not handle issues like this. And with luck we'll take Matei down to Bucuresti this week, now that we've got some decent weather, to see an American doctor who is not a neurologist or a pediatrician but who has connections.
The bottom line is we still need help to find the right connection to help Matei. And I'm still on the case. Thanks for your support.
Mary with NOROC Agency got a $500 donation from someone in the states for his medicine. Problem is, as I mentioned, we can't find his meds here in Romania. Oh and believe you me I've got people working on that. In the meantime, we sat down with his mother and brainstormed about who we might know in Italy. I'd heard of a couple of volunteers going there for winter school break. Could they help? Finally, Matei's mother offered that her husband's coworker might have a relative in Italy. Sure enough. So Mary wired money to the woman in Italy who then went to a few pharmacies there to find all of the meds. In Italy you don't need a prescription (although the receipt included 11 euro for coffee and chocolates for the pharmacist presumably in lieu of a prescription). And then Matei's mother received the three month supply of medicine last week. OK, breathe a big sigh of relief. But not too big a sigh because three months will pass quickly and this is not a long-term solution.
Meanwhile, I'm communicating with a Romanian pharmaceutical executive. I crashed a social service conference here in Tulcea. We've had meetings with important people. I've sent letters and emails to international agencies that may or may not handle issues like this. And with luck we'll take Matei down to Bucuresti this week, now that we've got some decent weather, to see an American doctor who is not a neurologist or a pediatrician but who has connections.
The bottom line is we still need help to find the right connection to help Matei. And I'm still on the case. Thanks for your support.
Friday, February 19, 2010
1000 Paper Cranes for Dachau
I can’t really explain why I must make a hobby of death camps and suffering. When I have my epiphany I’ll let you know. In the meantime, I’d like to solicit your help for a small project which I am calling 1000 Paper Cranes for Dachau.
Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp*, established in 1933 originally to hold political prisoners. Many of the early prisoners were clergy who opposed the Nazi movement. The camp is located in the Bavarian section of southern Germany. It served as a model on which other camps were based logistically and physically. Dachau is well known not because it was one of the larger or more horrific camps, but because it was one of the first camps liberated by the Allies and exposed to Western media.
My interest in Dachau lies in the fact that part of the team of liberators was the 522nd Field Artillery Battalion, part of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the segregated unit of Japanese American soldiers, many with families back home behind the barbed wire of our Internment Camps. After fighting brutal campaigns up Italy, on their way to becoming the most decorated unit for their size and length of service ever in American history (can you imagine the sacrifice necessary to earn that dubious distinction?), on April 29, 1945, the 442nd liberated the 3000 prisoners of the "Kaufering IV Hurlach" slave labor camp, a satellite camp to the main Dachau camp, as other American troops arrived at Dachau proper.
I will have the opportunity to visit Dachau and with luck the satellite camp in June on a vacation with my family. Regular readers of this blog will immediately recognize the opportunity for a random act of craning, i.e. I cannot visit Dachau without leaving behind a string of cranes with prayers and wishes for peace and healing. It’s what I do. But a visit to Dachau is a big event and I think it requires the whole enchilada, 1000 folded cranes, and better yet with written messages on them.
So this is my request to you: help me acquire 1000 origami cranes before the end of May, and I will deposit them at Dachau and the satellite camp (if we can find it). Buy some origami paper. If you can’t find it locally, give Maggie a shout at Manzanar History Association. She’ll put some in the mail for you. Together with your class, your family, your neighbors, your church, write prayers and wishes of whatever sort you feel is appropriate on the paper. Then if you know how to make cranes, fold the paper and send it to me. If not, send me just the paper. Last night at bible study we folded paper cranes, so I’ve got some help here to fold. Either way, I will carry our cranes and our messages to a place that was once the bleakest place on earth. And that was saved, partially, by men who Harry Truman told, "You fought not only the enemy, but you fought prejudice–and you have won."
*We go back and forth with this euphemistic terminology. Many Manzanites argue to use that term for the Japanese American camps in America saying that in strict factuality they were camps serving to concentrate people of Japanese descent. Internment is technically defined as use for those charged with crimes, which was not the case with the 120,000 Japanese Americans. I’m in agreement with this, except for the association of “concentration camps” as Nazi camps which were, in reality, death camps. “Concentration” was a euphemism used to deny the horror. Of course then you get into the differences between the Auschwitzes and the Treblinkas, the latter being a camp solely for immediate extermination. So although I am led by conscience to use the term “death camp” for all of the Nazi camps, here I’ll stick with conventional terminology since I’ll do enough editorializing as it is.
Dachau was the first Nazi concentration camp*, established in 1933 originally to hold political prisoners. Many of the early prisoners were clergy who opposed the Nazi movement. The camp is located in the Bavarian section of southern Germany. It served as a model on which other camps were based logistically and physically. Dachau is well known not because it was one of the larger or more horrific camps, but because it was one of the first camps liberated by the Allies and exposed to Western media.
My interest in Dachau lies in the fact that part of the team of liberators was the 522nd Field Artillery Battalion, part of the 442nd Regimental Combat Team, the segregated unit of Japanese American soldiers, many with families back home behind the barbed wire of our Internment Camps. After fighting brutal campaigns up Italy, on their way to becoming the most decorated unit for their size and length of service ever in American history (can you imagine the sacrifice necessary to earn that dubious distinction?), on April 29, 1945, the 442nd liberated the 3000 prisoners of the "Kaufering IV Hurlach" slave labor camp, a satellite camp to the main Dachau camp, as other American troops arrived at Dachau proper.
I will have the opportunity to visit Dachau and with luck the satellite camp in June on a vacation with my family. Regular readers of this blog will immediately recognize the opportunity for a random act of craning, i.e. I cannot visit Dachau without leaving behind a string of cranes with prayers and wishes for peace and healing. It’s what I do. But a visit to Dachau is a big event and I think it requires the whole enchilada, 1000 folded cranes, and better yet with written messages on them.
So this is my request to you: help me acquire 1000 origami cranes before the end of May, and I will deposit them at Dachau and the satellite camp (if we can find it). Buy some origami paper. If you can’t find it locally, give Maggie a shout at Manzanar History Association. She’ll put some in the mail for you. Together with your class, your family, your neighbors, your church, write prayers and wishes of whatever sort you feel is appropriate on the paper. Then if you know how to make cranes, fold the paper and send it to me. If not, send me just the paper. Last night at bible study we folded paper cranes, so I’ve got some help here to fold. Either way, I will carry our cranes and our messages to a place that was once the bleakest place on earth. And that was saved, partially, by men who Harry Truman told, "You fought not only the enemy, but you fought prejudice–and you have won."
*We go back and forth with this euphemistic terminology. Many Manzanites argue to use that term for the Japanese American camps in America saying that in strict factuality they were camps serving to concentrate people of Japanese descent. Internment is technically defined as use for those charged with crimes, which was not the case with the 120,000 Japanese Americans. I’m in agreement with this, except for the association of “concentration camps” as Nazi camps which were, in reality, death camps. “Concentration” was a euphemism used to deny the horror. Of course then you get into the differences between the Auschwitzes and the Treblinkas, the latter being a camp solely for immediate extermination. So although I am led by conscience to use the term “death camp” for all of the Nazi camps, here I’ll stick with conventional terminology since I’ll do enough editorializing as it is.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
A Little More Cluj
I don't remember where Susie took this picture of me. Oh yeah, it's outside the Synagogue of the Deportees. I think I'm trying to break in. And the second picture is the calf weaner. This one's for you Mark. Did the calf weaner make the Manzanar Virtual Museum cut?
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The Cakeless Wasteland
This is the story of my trip to the city of Cluj in the north of Romania, center of Transylvania. It involves long train and bus rides, delicious and varied foods, excellent company, and a fair amount of weather. Lordy, the weather.
The excuse was Old Folks Weekend, which has evolved in name to Wine and Wisdom Weekend, which in my mind translates to Whine and Wisdom Weekend. It’s generally a weekend held every few months targeting volunteers over 30 getting together someplace interesting to commiserate, inspire, and provide a good excuse to leave our sites. Since I had vowed in October to leave site every month and had broken that vow in January to my great detriment, I cherished the idea and took, as it turned out, a six-day weekend.
I bused to Bucuresti Thursday afternoon to stay the night with Susie who had meetings in Buc both Thursday and Friday morning. I found that the skating rink of Bucuresti had turned into a slushy lake. Honestly, the city was a snarl of impassibility. Fortunately, the boots that ate Siberia are waterproof nearly to the top (upper calf). We decided against going out for Mexican and ordered Chinese food in. A very nice treat.
The next morning as Susie had her meeting, I chatted with PC folks in the office. Then we were off to the train for our eight hour trip north to Cluj (technically the city’s name is Cluj-Napoca, but most people just say Cluj). Susie and I had seats opposite each other next to the window, perfect because we only knocked each other’s knees and could look out the window. The train a couple of hours north of Buc and before Brasov is incredibly scenic through the mountains.
I’ve taken this trip a few times but it’s always spectactular. Then it got dark and we had a late night getting into Cluj. But we made it and found our hostel where we were greeted with happy faces and a comfy bed, if a rather loud night with a strange serenade of drunken men out on the street.
Saturday’s weather was gloomy and rainy but we finally ventured out with the lure of a hat store that Ann had seen. Turns out they had some nice scarves too, and before we left that street I had purchased two new scarves with the justification that they make a bland and simple wardrobe a bit spicier. Actually I’m just dreaming of spring. We wandered around the city a bit more, not really in the mood for museums. We found some interesting buildings to look at.
Theater
above, the gals: Ann, Rosemary, Susie; below, a courthouse
I found a tea store and purchased some Russian for myself and some Earl Gray for Aurelia. We stopped in an art supply store too, as I wanted origami paper, but I had no luck. Finally it was time for lunch and we met up with some others from our group at a Japanese restaurant. Oh yes, it was all that. And affordable with lunch specials. I started out with miso soup with some cabbage and mushrooms in it. Then we had the sushi course and I had an exquisite slab of avocado on sushi rice as well as some cucumber rolls. Then the box came with my teriyaki tofu, rice rolls, steamed vegetables, and salad. We were all stuffed and incredibly satisfied by this long-deprived treat. After lunch Susie and I tried to visit the Museum of Transylvanian History, but it was closed for renovation. Then we tried to have tea at a cute little tea shop we’d walked past earlier. Packed full and incredibly smoky. So we walked up the street to see the Synagogue of the Deportees. 
Memorial Temple of the Deportees is dedicated to the memory of Jews from the north of Transylvania deported in the year 1944 and exterminated by facists in death camps. We will never forget their martyrdom/sacrifice.
This is a mosque-style building erected in 1987 to commemorate the deportation of Jews during WWII. It was late in the war, 1944, when people were sent to Auschwitz from Romania. Many Jews were simply rounded up and killed in Romania, which I think I’ve discussed previously here. Elie Weisel’s family was part of the 1944 deportation, part of Transylvania’s sordid history. Please, I beg you, if you have never read his work, you should. Start with “Night.” Susie and I stood outside the Synagogue but there seemed to be no way to get inside and the guidebook made no mention of doing more than walking by. From the Synagogue, we very much wanted to sit and have a cup of something warm. We had passed a few places but tried yet another across from the Synagogue. They had lots of coffee options but only one tea. I laughed to Susie that we could go back to the cakeless wasteland that we had passed down the street, the well lit place with an empty cake display (or was it for ice cream?) in the window. Sure enough, the cakeless wasteland had a number of teas on their drink menu and we greatly enjoyed. It was then renamed the cakeless wonder. A simple place really, but with a nice pot of Chinese gunpowder mint. Later we got back to the hostel and sat around for many hours doing that wine, whine, and wisdom thing with the group. Eventually Connie led the decision for pizza. We were excited about Indian take-out but the restaurant was either a figment or has closed. The hostel had a nice kitchen/dining area that we monopolized and had a wonderful evening.
Cluj is a university town and that is evident in the number of young people on the streets, the diversity of cultural institutions, and the general vibe. Number one on my list of places to visit, alas, was closed all weekend. This is the museum at the caving institute at the university. Did I mention the field of biospeleology was pioneered by a man from Cluj and the caving institute here is world-renowned. Next time, it will have to be. But Sunday we did head off after breakfast to have a bit of a museum fix. We visited a craft fair outside of the art museum. Then Susie, Richard, and I visited the ethnographic museum. They loaned us a guide written in English and I served as our reader as we traversed the many themes of traditional life in Romania: agricultural implements, homemaking tools, musical instruments, clothing and textiles, and religious artifacts. One of the most interesting things was the collection of thread/yarnmaking tools that young men had carved for young women during courtship. Absolutely beautiful as well as functional. Another funny thing for me to see was a calf-weaner. We have one in our collection at Manzanar from the ranching era.
After the museum, we headed back to the hostel as most people were heading home Sunday afternoon. Susie and I were sticking around one more night and met up with Sean, a volunteer currently living in Cluj. We enjoyed another great meal: club sandwiches with real bacon at a tavern he recommended. They were chicken with hard-boiled egg, lettuce, tomato, bacon, and mayonnaise. Delish. Sean left us his apartment for the night as he went to his girlfriend’s to make Valentine’s Day dinner. Susie and I cooked in and watched with great joy some of the Olympics.
We got the Monday morning train out of Cluj and had a long but not unpleasant day back south on the train, arriving in Susie’s city of Ploiesti after dark. We were picked up by PC language teacher and Susie’s friend and tutor, Simona and her boyfriend. One more meal out for pizza and a chance to tell Simona about our weekend. Then home and to bed with a little more Olympics squeezed in.
Tuesday I took an early train into Bucuresti to begin the final leg of my trip home. I enjoyed a leisurely pot of Nepal Masala tea at our favorite tea room and succeeded in finding origami paper for our proposed origami-for-orphans project (Mary wants to use cranes for a peace lesson). I then walked down to the PC office to say goodbye to Ken, our Country Director who’s time is up this week. We will miss him terribly and I know how lucky I am to have come into his country. He is very dedicated to volunteers and communicates so well with us. He is going to Washington to consult on the future of the Corps. He’s a good person to do that. Saw some other people, missed the 2:00 bus, the 4:00 bus doesn’t exist anymore, so watched yet more Olympics at the bus station waiting for the 5:30 bus. Long trip home on bad roads. For a long way into Tulcea I think we were driving on frozen slush, very bumpy and slippery. Long ride. Late night.
Along the way I picked up a number of new books, nine I think, both from the PC office library and from Ann. The first one I opened up is “Imperium” by a Polish journalist about the Soviet Union and generally the Russian sensibility. It was interesting to be riding the bus, and especially the train, across a snowy landscape (although truly the snow’s not deep anywhere), and reading about Vorkuta and Kolyma. He has an interesting perspective and I’m enjoying the book immensely. Talking about the real cakeless wasteland, where cake stands in for anything beyond the absolute minimum necessary for survival. A wasteland free of warmth, food, compassion, hope. I find myself thinking about the Transsiberian railroad more and more, littered with my paper cranes, the only response I can come up with to deal with the Manzanars, the Transylvanias, the Dachaus, the Siberias of my personal landscape. I have met people who survived the camps at Vorkuta. How can I not follow this story wherever it will take me?
Don’t worry, I picked up some lighter novels too. And Cluj was wonderful. Many thanks to my volunteer mates, the Olympic Wine and Wisdom team, going for the gold. Next adventure is Ukraina with Susie in April. Odessa steps and Crimea. And somewhere in March, just a weekend, to honor my commitment to get out of town more often and get a little recharge, a little cake.
A couple more pix just for fun. For all my Melodys, and an angry donut just cause. 
The excuse was Old Folks Weekend, which has evolved in name to Wine and Wisdom Weekend, which in my mind translates to Whine and Wisdom Weekend. It’s generally a weekend held every few months targeting volunteers over 30 getting together someplace interesting to commiserate, inspire, and provide a good excuse to leave our sites. Since I had vowed in October to leave site every month and had broken that vow in January to my great detriment, I cherished the idea and took, as it turned out, a six-day weekend.
I bused to Bucuresti Thursday afternoon to stay the night with Susie who had meetings in Buc both Thursday and Friday morning. I found that the skating rink of Bucuresti had turned into a slushy lake. Honestly, the city was a snarl of impassibility. Fortunately, the boots that ate Siberia are waterproof nearly to the top (upper calf). We decided against going out for Mexican and ordered Chinese food in. A very nice treat.
The next morning as Susie had her meeting, I chatted with PC folks in the office. Then we were off to the train for our eight hour trip north to Cluj (technically the city’s name is Cluj-Napoca, but most people just say Cluj). Susie and I had seats opposite each other next to the window, perfect because we only knocked each other’s knees and could look out the window. The train a couple of hours north of Buc and before Brasov is incredibly scenic through the mountains.
I’ve taken this trip a few times but it’s always spectactular. Then it got dark and we had a late night getting into Cluj. But we made it and found our hostel where we were greeted with happy faces and a comfy bed, if a rather loud night with a strange serenade of drunken men out on the street. Saturday’s weather was gloomy and rainy but we finally ventured out with the lure of a hat store that Ann had seen. Turns out they had some nice scarves too, and before we left that street I had purchased two new scarves with the justification that they make a bland and simple wardrobe a bit spicier. Actually I’m just dreaming of spring. We wandered around the city a bit more, not really in the mood for museums. We found some interesting buildings to look at.
Theater
above, the gals: Ann, Rosemary, Susie; below, a courthouse
I found a tea store and purchased some Russian for myself and some Earl Gray for Aurelia. We stopped in an art supply store too, as I wanted origami paper, but I had no luck. Finally it was time for lunch and we met up with some others from our group at a Japanese restaurant. Oh yes, it was all that. And affordable with lunch specials. I started out with miso soup with some cabbage and mushrooms in it. Then we had the sushi course and I had an exquisite slab of avocado on sushi rice as well as some cucumber rolls. Then the box came with my teriyaki tofu, rice rolls, steamed vegetables, and salad. We were all stuffed and incredibly satisfied by this long-deprived treat. After lunch Susie and I tried to visit the Museum of Transylvanian History, but it was closed for renovation. Then we tried to have tea at a cute little tea shop we’d walked past earlier. Packed full and incredibly smoky. So we walked up the street to see the Synagogue of the Deportees. 
Memorial Temple of the Deportees is dedicated to the memory of Jews from the north of Transylvania deported in the year 1944 and exterminated by facists in death camps. We will never forget their martyrdom/sacrifice.
This is a mosque-style building erected in 1987 to commemorate the deportation of Jews during WWII. It was late in the war, 1944, when people were sent to Auschwitz from Romania. Many Jews were simply rounded up and killed in Romania, which I think I’ve discussed previously here. Elie Weisel’s family was part of the 1944 deportation, part of Transylvania’s sordid history. Please, I beg you, if you have never read his work, you should. Start with “Night.” Susie and I stood outside the Synagogue but there seemed to be no way to get inside and the guidebook made no mention of doing more than walking by. From the Synagogue, we very much wanted to sit and have a cup of something warm. We had passed a few places but tried yet another across from the Synagogue. They had lots of coffee options but only one tea. I laughed to Susie that we could go back to the cakeless wasteland that we had passed down the street, the well lit place with an empty cake display (or was it for ice cream?) in the window. Sure enough, the cakeless wasteland had a number of teas on their drink menu and we greatly enjoyed. It was then renamed the cakeless wonder. A simple place really, but with a nice pot of Chinese gunpowder mint. Later we got back to the hostel and sat around for many hours doing that wine, whine, and wisdom thing with the group. Eventually Connie led the decision for pizza. We were excited about Indian take-out but the restaurant was either a figment or has closed. The hostel had a nice kitchen/dining area that we monopolized and had a wonderful evening.Cluj is a university town and that is evident in the number of young people on the streets, the diversity of cultural institutions, and the general vibe. Number one on my list of places to visit, alas, was closed all weekend. This is the museum at the caving institute at the university. Did I mention the field of biospeleology was pioneered by a man from Cluj and the caving institute here is world-renowned. Next time, it will have to be. But Sunday we did head off after breakfast to have a bit of a museum fix. We visited a craft fair outside of the art museum. Then Susie, Richard, and I visited the ethnographic museum. They loaned us a guide written in English and I served as our reader as we traversed the many themes of traditional life in Romania: agricultural implements, homemaking tools, musical instruments, clothing and textiles, and religious artifacts. One of the most interesting things was the collection of thread/yarnmaking tools that young men had carved for young women during courtship. Absolutely beautiful as well as functional. Another funny thing for me to see was a calf-weaner. We have one in our collection at Manzanar from the ranching era.
After the museum, we headed back to the hostel as most people were heading home Sunday afternoon. Susie and I were sticking around one more night and met up with Sean, a volunteer currently living in Cluj. We enjoyed another great meal: club sandwiches with real bacon at a tavern he recommended. They were chicken with hard-boiled egg, lettuce, tomato, bacon, and mayonnaise. Delish. Sean left us his apartment for the night as he went to his girlfriend’s to make Valentine’s Day dinner. Susie and I cooked in and watched with great joy some of the Olympics.
We got the Monday morning train out of Cluj and had a long but not unpleasant day back south on the train, arriving in Susie’s city of Ploiesti after dark. We were picked up by PC language teacher and Susie’s friend and tutor, Simona and her boyfriend. One more meal out for pizza and a chance to tell Simona about our weekend. Then home and to bed with a little more Olympics squeezed in.
Tuesday I took an early train into Bucuresti to begin the final leg of my trip home. I enjoyed a leisurely pot of Nepal Masala tea at our favorite tea room and succeeded in finding origami paper for our proposed origami-for-orphans project (Mary wants to use cranes for a peace lesson). I then walked down to the PC office to say goodbye to Ken, our Country Director who’s time is up this week. We will miss him terribly and I know how lucky I am to have come into his country. He is very dedicated to volunteers and communicates so well with us. He is going to Washington to consult on the future of the Corps. He’s a good person to do that. Saw some other people, missed the 2:00 bus, the 4:00 bus doesn’t exist anymore, so watched yet more Olympics at the bus station waiting for the 5:30 bus. Long trip home on bad roads. For a long way into Tulcea I think we were driving on frozen slush, very bumpy and slippery. Long ride. Late night.
Along the way I picked up a number of new books, nine I think, both from the PC office library and from Ann. The first one I opened up is “Imperium” by a Polish journalist about the Soviet Union and generally the Russian sensibility. It was interesting to be riding the bus, and especially the train, across a snowy landscape (although truly the snow’s not deep anywhere), and reading about Vorkuta and Kolyma. He has an interesting perspective and I’m enjoying the book immensely. Talking about the real cakeless wasteland, where cake stands in for anything beyond the absolute minimum necessary for survival. A wasteland free of warmth, food, compassion, hope. I find myself thinking about the Transsiberian railroad more and more, littered with my paper cranes, the only response I can come up with to deal with the Manzanars, the Transylvanias, the Dachaus, the Siberias of my personal landscape. I have met people who survived the camps at Vorkuta. How can I not follow this story wherever it will take me?
Don’t worry, I picked up some lighter novels too. And Cluj was wonderful. Many thanks to my volunteer mates, the Olympic Wine and Wisdom team, going for the gold. Next adventure is Ukraina with Susie in April. Odessa steps and Crimea. And somewhere in March, just a weekend, to honor my commitment to get out of town more often and get a little recharge, a little cake.
A couple more pix just for fun. For all my Melodys, and an angry donut just cause. 
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Broken Record
Wah-wah-wah. The weather continues.
The light in my life this week is the correspondence: Holly writes that I should move to the Tetons when I'm done here. Oh, now that's some winter. Really?! Time will tell. Holly exerts a magnetic influence. Maggie sends a newspaper clipping of the Independence Fruitcake Festival in which my cozonac competed, can be seen in a photo, but did not capture a prize. Enduringly yearning for the desert (and the dessert, and the marinated tofu sandwich from Raymond's in Bishop). Chris forwards me a survey from the NPS looking for feedback for a potential NPS/PC partnership. I had a lot to say about that, of a very positive nature. For you Chris: frozen toilet, frozen toilet, frozen toilet. Chris has picked up his mom's old guitar in the wake of a dulcimer malfunction. Ah, music to soothe the winter soul. And he's got just the family for it. Rand sends a photo of little Kate looking very big and smiley happy on a beach in Australia. Erik sends me in the mail the tiniest MP3 sound recording aparatus. I'm just stunned that such a tiny and easy to use machine can do so much. Ladies and gentlemen, the Macin Mountains Heritage Project or the Tulcea County Oral History Project may now begin. Oh lordy, now I have to live up to such a generous gift. And he and Ben are on their way to Panama evidently, where I'm guessing it's warm and also may have beaches. And finally, a valentine from Mom cause she's all that.
To sum it up, let's see what Tara posted on facebook this week: “Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.” -Thoreau. My world is very spacious.
I'm trying to get out of town for a long weekend with other volunteers up in the cool city of Cluj, home of a world renowned caving institute--the birthplace of the field of biospeleology. I say trying--another storm is coming in. Quoting Erin on facebook (yeah, I'm one of those people now) "ok, winter. we get it. you're all mighty and powerful. you can stop now." If I make it up north, you'll read about it here soon.
The light in my life this week is the correspondence: Holly writes that I should move to the Tetons when I'm done here. Oh, now that's some winter. Really?! Time will tell. Holly exerts a magnetic influence. Maggie sends a newspaper clipping of the Independence Fruitcake Festival in which my cozonac competed, can be seen in a photo, but did not capture a prize. Enduringly yearning for the desert (and the dessert, and the marinated tofu sandwich from Raymond's in Bishop). Chris forwards me a survey from the NPS looking for feedback for a potential NPS/PC partnership. I had a lot to say about that, of a very positive nature. For you Chris: frozen toilet, frozen toilet, frozen toilet. Chris has picked up his mom's old guitar in the wake of a dulcimer malfunction. Ah, music to soothe the winter soul. And he's got just the family for it. Rand sends a photo of little Kate looking very big and smiley happy on a beach in Australia. Erik sends me in the mail the tiniest MP3 sound recording aparatus. I'm just stunned that such a tiny and easy to use machine can do so much. Ladies and gentlemen, the Macin Mountains Heritage Project or the Tulcea County Oral History Project may now begin. Oh lordy, now I have to live up to such a generous gift. And he and Ben are on their way to Panama evidently, where I'm guessing it's warm and also may have beaches. And finally, a valentine from Mom cause she's all that.
To sum it up, let's see what Tara posted on facebook this week: “Nothing makes the earth seem so spacious as to have friends at a distance; they make the latitudes and longitudes.” -Thoreau. My world is very spacious.
I'm trying to get out of town for a long weekend with other volunteers up in the cool city of Cluj, home of a world renowned caving institute--the birthplace of the field of biospeleology. I say trying--another storm is coming in. Quoting Erin on facebook (yeah, I'm one of those people now) "ok, winter. we get it. you're all mighty and powerful. you can stop now." If I make it up north, you'll read about it here soon.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
The First Paragraph on Water
Because I'm rather housebound by the winteriness of our winter, I've had some time to start the next of my California essays. I spent my spring delay writing about Fire, and now I'm writing about Water. I have eight that I'd like to write eventually about my life in the California desert: Fire, Flood, Faults, Desert, Mountains, Water, Sky, and Fruit. Fire and flood are the most complex and personal, I suppose. I should figure out how to post a document here and post Fire. But for now, here's the first paragraph of water. It's funny how now again I live in the land of white pelicans. We have two kinds here: the "regular" ones that we have in the Owens Valley, and Dalmatian pelicans which are slightly different and rather rare.
Every spring and every fall white pelicans migrate through the Owens Valley. I’ve read that they winter on the Gulf of California, and a retired man with whom I shared a glass of sweet wine on a small lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park confirmed that they summer places like Eagle Lake in northern California and freshwater lakes farther north and farther inland. The first time I saw the pelicans was early spring and a flock that I counted to five hundred. They were circling Tinemaha reservoir in their signature style of moving as a ribbon of silk in the wind, now turning just so to disappear from sight into the sky, now turning all together to flash the stark white of their massive wings in the light. They cleave to the valley floor of the eastern Sierra, our own emerald necklace of waterways that guides them to their resting grounds. So we too, in this brown and dusty land, make pilgrimage and prayer to the lazy fishpond, the tule-choked river, the burbling spring, the source.
Every spring and every fall white pelicans migrate through the Owens Valley. I’ve read that they winter on the Gulf of California, and a retired man with whom I shared a glass of sweet wine on a small lake in Lassen Volcanic National Park confirmed that they summer places like Eagle Lake in northern California and freshwater lakes farther north and farther inland. The first time I saw the pelicans was early spring and a flock that I counted to five hundred. They were circling Tinemaha reservoir in their signature style of moving as a ribbon of silk in the wind, now turning just so to disappear from sight into the sky, now turning all together to flash the stark white of their massive wings in the light. They cleave to the valley floor of the eastern Sierra, our own emerald necklace of waterways that guides them to their resting grounds. So we too, in this brown and dusty land, make pilgrimage and prayer to the lazy fishpond, the tule-choked river, the burbling spring, the source.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A Trip to the Mall
Yes, Tulcea has a mall. I've been resisting a visit because really what would I want at a mall, and from the outside it looks like just another tall office building, if a bit more modern than most here. But yesterday Aurelia (my source for all things good and true)told me about a couple of stores there that might interest me. I've also heard about the movie theater there that will only run a show if they have four or more customers which isn't always the case.
This was all prompted by my desire to purchase a vacuum cleaner. Many years ago when I lived in NYC, I was at a family holiday dinner. My cousin was waxing poetic on a great deal she'd gotten on a gold plated vacuum cleaner. I remarked to my sister's then-husband Robb that I was very happy with my upright Dirt Devil. Astounded, he asked, "When did you get a vacuum cleaner?" I replied, "The night before Melody's last visit." (and it was at night; Bed Bath and Beyond on 6th Avenue was open late). We laughed. Alas, times haven't changed much and I still have a high tolerance for dirt. But the past few days I've been much better about doing my sun salutations and push-ups and such, and my floor had become too filthy even for me, with my face down there on the carpet.
Here in Romania, rug beating is a common pastime. Many apartment buildings have racks outside on which to hang your rug, and everyone has that four-leaf-clover-looking-device with which to smack the hanging rug. It makes a distinctive sound and the warmer seasons are soundtracked with the smacking of the rugs. My rugs, however, are rather large and weighed down with heavy furniture. So I consider my little vacuum cleaner, purchased for 200 lei plus the cab ride, to be invaluable. And I will pass it on to future volunteers when I leave.
Which reminds me: Friend Susie in Ploiesti offered to leave me hers when she finishes her service here. Alas, Susie was due to finish in April, plenty of time before my sister's visit at the end of May. haha. But Susie has decided to extend through the summer.
So this morning I made a pilgrimage to the mall where the vacuum cleaner store is located. Oh and so much more. Every electronic thing imaginable is sold in the basement of the mall. It was all so bright and shiny. I browsed around seeing what else I might like. Oh, look; there's toasters. I'd like a toaster. Yikes!! The going rate for toasters is nearly as much as for vacuum cleaners. I have a story about a toaster too, but I'll save that for another time. I came home without a toaster today.
The vacuum cleaner doesn't work nearly as well as we in the states would want. But it works. And I had a yummy food court chicken sandwich, bought a small shoulder bag which I'm hoping works well for traveling, eyed the pineapples in the fancy grocery store, and rode the escalators.
This was all prompted by my desire to purchase a vacuum cleaner. Many years ago when I lived in NYC, I was at a family holiday dinner. My cousin was waxing poetic on a great deal she'd gotten on a gold plated vacuum cleaner. I remarked to my sister's then-husband Robb that I was very happy with my upright Dirt Devil. Astounded, he asked, "When did you get a vacuum cleaner?" I replied, "The night before Melody's last visit." (and it was at night; Bed Bath and Beyond on 6th Avenue was open late). We laughed. Alas, times haven't changed much and I still have a high tolerance for dirt. But the past few days I've been much better about doing my sun salutations and push-ups and such, and my floor had become too filthy even for me, with my face down there on the carpet.
Here in Romania, rug beating is a common pastime. Many apartment buildings have racks outside on which to hang your rug, and everyone has that four-leaf-clover-looking-device with which to smack the hanging rug. It makes a distinctive sound and the warmer seasons are soundtracked with the smacking of the rugs. My rugs, however, are rather large and weighed down with heavy furniture. So I consider my little vacuum cleaner, purchased for 200 lei plus the cab ride, to be invaluable. And I will pass it on to future volunteers when I leave.
Which reminds me: Friend Susie in Ploiesti offered to leave me hers when she finishes her service here. Alas, Susie was due to finish in April, plenty of time before my sister's visit at the end of May. haha. But Susie has decided to extend through the summer.
So this morning I made a pilgrimage to the mall where the vacuum cleaner store is located. Oh and so much more. Every electronic thing imaginable is sold in the basement of the mall. It was all so bright and shiny. I browsed around seeing what else I might like. Oh, look; there's toasters. I'd like a toaster. Yikes!! The going rate for toasters is nearly as much as for vacuum cleaners. I have a story about a toaster too, but I'll save that for another time. I came home without a toaster today.
The vacuum cleaner doesn't work nearly as well as we in the states would want. But it works. And I had a yummy food court chicken sandwich, bought a small shoulder bag which I'm hoping works well for traveling, eyed the pineapples in the fancy grocery store, and rode the escalators.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
From Soup to Nuts
Ok, I know I should blog about more than what I'm making for dinner, particularly if its not authentic Romanian cuisine. But I'm so tired of hearing myself complain about the weather and icy sidewalks and how much I hate going to work. So I will pop in here for a quick ode to split pea soup. I found the mazare galben (yellow split peas) just down the street and got a whole kilo of them. And being the land of pork, I got a nice chunk of ham--very nice ham without ribbons of fat. Some carrots, onions, Tony's, veggie broth, and a couple of hours, and I'm back in soup heaven.
Also, Aurelia and I had a good conversation today about Siberia. She was amazed I knew the old joke that when God was distributing natural resources around the world, his hand froze over Siberia and all the resources fell out there. It is incredibly rich in timber and minerals, hence the GULAG-supported gold mines of Kolyma. As long as I live I will never know why I know the random things I know. Anyway, I have a fantasy of riding the Trans-Siberian railroad from Moscow to Vladivostok with a few stops along the way. Not this time of year of course. Lordy, I can't take it in Romania!
Moral of the story: make soup and enjoy it.
Oh wait. Here's some cross-cultural tidbits that justify this post. I told Aurelia that it is common when children get braces to have teeth removed, in addition to removing wisdom teeth. She was horrified that we are needlessly removing perfectly good teeth. And on a regular basis. She then informed me that laborers all over Romania are provided with free milk and/or yogurt because dairy products cleanse the body of the toxins it takes in working in a factory, particularly paint fumes. They evidently do this all over Europe. I wanted to reply that we have OSHA instead, but I really have no science on the yogurt cure so I kept my mouth shut. How do you like them apples?
Also, Aurelia and I had a good conversation today about Siberia. She was amazed I knew the old joke that when God was distributing natural resources around the world, his hand froze over Siberia and all the resources fell out there. It is incredibly rich in timber and minerals, hence the GULAG-supported gold mines of Kolyma. As long as I live I will never know why I know the random things I know. Anyway, I have a fantasy of riding the Trans-Siberian railroad from Moscow to Vladivostok with a few stops along the way. Not this time of year of course. Lordy, I can't take it in Romania!
Moral of the story: make soup and enjoy it.
Oh wait. Here's some cross-cultural tidbits that justify this post. I told Aurelia that it is common when children get braces to have teeth removed, in addition to removing wisdom teeth. She was horrified that we are needlessly removing perfectly good teeth. And on a regular basis. She then informed me that laborers all over Romania are provided with free milk and/or yogurt because dairy products cleanse the body of the toxins it takes in working in a factory, particularly paint fumes. They evidently do this all over Europe. I wanted to reply that we have OSHA instead, but I really have no science on the yogurt cure so I kept my mouth shut. How do you like them apples?
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