Saturday, August 13, 2011

Final Post

This will be my last post. I've been thinking for a long time about what to do with this blog, because I am no longer teaching in Romania. I wanted to keep writing but I didn't think it was appropriate to keep using the same "venue," of sorts.

For a long time this summer, I've been stuck in the middle. Stuck between a land I miss and a home I love, stuck between jobs, stuck without direction. And last week it all came together. And after some thought, I realized that I can finally let go of the last part of Romania I was clinging to: this blog.

So friends, visit me and my new home and my new job at this address:

http://breadplusroses.blogspot.com/

I'll be moving to Chicago shortly and starting a job with a social-service agency in Uptown. I'm going to be living in Hyde Park (land that I love) and working on building a life and making a difference in the lives of 20 little friends, their families, and the rest of the population served by the agency. I'm so excited to begin this next chapter.

Unlike every other period of time in my life, there is no prescribed end date. There is no graduation or contract termination date. I don't have a set destination. I do expect to grow and change, and I'm hoping my new blog will chronicle that journey. Thank you for your love, your support, and your comments. It has meant so much to me. I would love to "see" everyone again as life moves on here!

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Thoughts

There are good people in the world. People who are life-giving and restorative and affirming. There are good people in my world.

So why am I struggling with so much?

Do you ever get the feeling that you've done something so terrible that life is (not)working exactly the way you deserve?

Thursday, July 21, 2011

Airports

I am currently sitting in an airport, a location I didn't think I would find myself in for quite some time. Alas, here I am- headed to Connecticut for a job interview (!) and a fantastic weekend with great friends.

I'm bored, which is something I almost never experience. This trip will add three more airports to my list. And because I like lists, I will now commence listing all the airports I've experienced. Yeah, fun post for me... not so much for you.

Detroit, Michigan
Las Vegas, Nevada
Denver, Colorado
Durango, Colorado
Albuquerque, New Mexico (it took me about 60 seconds to spell that...)
Tampa, Florida
Chicago Midway, Chicago, Illinois
Chicago O'Hare, Chicago, Illinois
Baltimore, Maryland
Indianapolis, Indiana
Charlotte, North Carolina
Atlanta, Georgia
Marquette, Michigan
Toledo, Ohio
Dusseldorf, Germany
Budapest, Hungary
Frankfurt, Germany
Florence, Italy
Rome, Italy
Athens, Greece
Bratislava, Slovakia
Vienna, Austria
Zurich, Switzerland
Paris, France
Bucharest, Romania
Amsterdam, Netherlands
Dublin, Ireland
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

I'll be adding Hartford CT and Washington DC to this list by Monday.

Dude, I love flying. AND I love even numbers. AND I love the five pattern. An even number of airports with the five pattern (30)... this is clearly a sign.

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

New Low

You know you've hit a new low when the first six hours of your day looks like this:

Wake up when father comes home on lunch break and tells you that you will be joining him on a trip to return recyclable cans and bottles.

Sleep a little longer.

Wake up a little later with an insane craving for Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.

Nearly collapse when there is no butter.

Make Macaroni and Cheese anyway with cream cheese.

Eat (almost) entire box of Macaroni and Cheese- save the three remaining bites in a small container so you don't feel like a total pig.

Learn about the special surprise after returning bottles and cans.

Return bottles and cans.

Look at scooters and motorcycles at Dexters, the special surprise.

Realize that the special surprise was the best part of the day. And I don't even like motorcycles or scooters.

In other news, I didn't get the job in Camden. Life is just painful right now.

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

Chutes and Ladders

I will work to find blessings in every troubling situation I have found or do find myself in.

I nearly lost my position in Romania, and had to work rather hard to get it back. This could be considered a problem, and it was certainly an emotionally charged and difficult situation. The blessing? I found out that I can stand up for myself when the situation calls for it, and it is not just the needs of others that I can care for.

I broke my ankle in Romania, and spent the next 10 days in almost constant agonizing pain, all while working a full time plus schedule. The blessing? I had people to help me in Romania, and I have a family with health insurance. I am covered under my father's policy, and I was able to see an orthopedic specialist. I am able to recover under the professional care of a physical therapist, and all of this comes at little or no cost to me.

I lost my summer position in Connecticut, the job I have most looked forward to of any in my life. The blessing? I can fully recover from my ankle injury, I can live at home and spend time where I grew up, and I can enjoy my family. I didn't have the stress of moving just 6 days after getting back to the States, and it allows me more time to look for a position in the fall.

I moved home from Romania. I know many of you will see this as a blessing, but it is a difficult situation right now. I miss my adopted home, and I don't have another place to really belong yet. The "reverse-culture shock" is hitting harder than I expected it to, especially when I let myself think about it. The blessing? I had a chance to live for nearly 10 months in an incredible place, experiencing things I will remember for a lifetime. I am so lucky to have had that opportunity.

I lost the use of my car, due to a minor accident. It wasn't really his fault and anyone could have made that mistake, but it's frustrating regardless. The blessing? I don't have a summer job and I don't really need a car. Also, my brother's "fleet" of vehicles means that if I really need to get somewhere, I can.

I don't have a job for the fall. The blessing? Update to come... we hope.

Life is Cold

I would say that I'm experiencing some pretty severe mood swings lately, but that isn't a great analogy. Neither is that of a rollercoaster- it is not nearly as unpredictable as a thrill ride. Rather, it is a lot like a bungee jump with an initial fall and slow bounces, decreasing to a constant state. Except that the eventual constant state involves hanging upside down, and bungee jumping is an adventure sport I swore I'd never try.

I know that I shouldn't feel so incredibly discouraged. I know that I have an incredible store of blessings and experiences and opportunities and supportive people to call on. I know (well, I believe) that these things are happening with purpose and that there is a massive lesson I've just not learned yet... but I'm struggling. I'm struggling to recover from a place that drained me emotionally, and a place I still miss immensely. I'm struggling to find a job and turn off the negative thoughts that nearly had me applying at IHOP. I'm struggling to find physical healing for my ankle. I'm struggling to stay emotionally stable and healthy, to remain connected and engaged, to get out of bed in the morning. I'm struggling to express appropriate feelings towards people who want to help me, people who are trying to love me, and even people who do things that annoy me. I'm struggling.

In the heat of everything yesterday (temperature and emotionally), my mom and I decided that life is cold.

And the cup isn't half full anymore- but at least it is only three-quarters empty. I need someone to fill me up.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

This Post is For Dan

Stop being worried about coming home. You have your incredible girlfriend and at least 90% of your efforts can be concentrated on helping her adjust to life in the States.

That being said, you should know that I've said "mulţumesc" in at least 10 different situations. My family is really tired of me asking "ce" when I cannot hear them, and I had a dream in Romanian the other night.

Get ready for the ridiculous amount of entertainment options, and be prepared to find very few of them interesting. The amount of English sinage is probably going to overwhelm you. You'll feel a little bit like Jim Carrey in "Bruce Almighty" when he can hear all the prayers- suddenly everything you hear is comprehensible.

Prepare yourself for getting upset at the grocery store when you spend $20.00 and they try to send you out the door with 8 bags. Try to remember that non-Romanian stores do not accept Romanian currency of any kind, and you'll feel like an idiot when you do it for the third time. You might forget that you can call and text people now (btw... will your number be the same?) Also, they have ice in America and they'll give you water that doesn't come in a bottle without going three rounds with the wait staff.

That's all the trivial stuff. I'll write the next part as if you didn't have your own Romanian throwback. You'll be sad. Depressed even. Everything at home looks good to you, but all in a Romanian light. You'll struggle with comparing everything to what you experienced there, what it's like there, what you saw there. You'll want to see everyone you can, and no one at all. You'll experience an insane desire to connect with people and a deep disappointment when you realize NO ONE knows what you are dealing with. They'll pretend to care while you pretend that you aren't thinking about the life you just left. You'll both try hard and fail. You'll scheme about going back even though you know you won't. You'll feel both alone and too close to everyone at the same time. If you are me, you'll cry when you see some of your best friends for the first time. You'll be happy and sad and confused and inexplicably angry at times. And you'll be tired.

And then you'll call me. Because I'm in the middle of it too, and it's a lonely place.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

A Week

It's been 167 hours since I landed at O'Hare Airport in Chicago after a rather harrowing experience. Let me tell you some of the things I've learned.

1. No matter how much you give away, you will still have too much in your suitcase.

2. Priorities make themselves abundently clear when you have 10 minutes to lose 7 kilograms of stuff. Goodbye, shoes, cosmetics, pillow, and blanket. I'll miss you.

3. You could have spent more time carefully planning what to throw away, because the airline isn't sure that they should let you on the plane with that cast.

4. People in an airport will ask anyone for advice... I'm quite clearly not an airline executive, but sitting behind a desk warrents all kinds of questions.

5. They do NOT mess around with security in the Bucharest airport... Dublin is somewhat different.

6. Every plane to ever depart from OTP will be delayed.

7. If you are getting wheelchair assistance, you will be wheeled into the back of a semi trailer, and driven across the runway and then wheeled into the plane through the cargo entrance.

8. The lovely Irish accent will make everything better. From the airline attendants to the wheelchair assistance lad Sean, it's difficult to get upset with the Irish.

9. Americans are obnoxious the world over. I'm sorry, Mr. California. But just because you went to Germany instead of Amsterdam doesn't mean you are a world traveller. And sleeping on a park bench whilst drunk and high doesn't mean that you got a "real European experience." Stop trying to arm wrestle people and then talk about how you could "take" anyone you wanted in high school. Take your flipping sunglasses off, and don't brag about how you've not bathed in 3 weeks. And do you really travel with your own plasic wine glasses? Take it from someone who got the real European experience... you should be able to drink wine out of whatever is available.

10. The Dublin airport is lovely, but those lights are BRIGHT at 4:30 in the morning.

11. Someone is going to notice that you need help when you are standing on one leg with two bags, staring at the flight board for 20 minutes. Do they really have to put CANCELLED in big block letters? They could say it in a nicer way, I think.

12. Having a broken ankle can work in your favor... pleading my case for why I should get onto the standby list first, getting escorted through security (totally could have blown that plane up... I barely got frisked) and customs by the lovely Irish Richard (who called me love, mhmm), and seated early on the plane... it worked out alright.

13. Having a broken ankle can be ridiculously stupid on a plane, because it will HURT. You know how your legs swell anyway in flight? There is no comfortable postion, and you therefore will keep not sleeping.

14. Ted from Ireland is a very nice man who will tolerate you crying (nearly) on his shoulder about four times in the course of a 9 hour point of contact.

15. Arriving in the United States is beautiful, but hearing that your parents are not at the airport is kind of painful. Thank you, communication mixup- my fault entirely.

16. Warm and friendly relatives are incredible... but visiting people you've only met a few times in your life after skipping DAYS of sleep and traveling for nearly 30 hours is a bit overwhelming.

17. You will want to cry when you see your mom and dad for the first time. Because they will take care of you, and you can stop being so strong for a while.

18. The I-80 stretch from Chicago to Michigan is still long.

19. It might take a while to sleep normally again.

20. Home people are wonderful, incredible really. But you will still miss belonging somewhere else.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

The Magic of Juxtaposition

As many challenges as the land of Romania has presented, I am still incredibly saddened to be leaving this place. This place of growth and discovery, chaos and change, and magic- it has infected me. There is a mystical sense of space, of time, of culture in Romania. It is a land of old superstition coupled with new developments, a location that looks forward to its place in the new world while still clinging to the tradition of old.

For years, my favorite word has been juxtaposition. Meaning the bringing together of two unlike or different elements or objects, I like the word itself and the concept. I love the beauty often created by juxtaposition, the sharp contrasts that bring out the fine details of each part of the equation. Exploring the little differences inherent in each of the two unlike elements is fascinating, and it allows for a deeper and almost more meaningful understanding of each piece.

I think part of my addiction, my fascination, and my love for Romania comes from the juxtaposition here. You can walk amongst lovely parks and still find crumbling concrete. The consumerism of the city slams so quickly up against the peasant life just outside the boundaries. A place that is producing some of the most technically skilled workers in the world still requires triplicate copies of everything, stamped and sealed and signed by everyone in the world except the person you know. You ride on two new busses and an extremely efficient underground metro train to wait in line at the post office for two hours. Romania is a land of juxtaposition, and it is rather fitting that I fell in love here.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Packing

I have quite the reputation as a terrible packer. Really really bad. I don't do anything until the last minute, and I get terribly overwhelmed, and then I do a very poor job. Usually I have help. This time, I not only don't have help... but I don't have one leg.

I will be good this time. I will start packing and keep going until I finish. I will feel accomplished and productive. My brother and Jane will not be aggrevated with me, and a woman with the initials C.B. will not be snickering at me.

Lots of stuff is getting left behind, I'm afraid.

I will do this... just not right now.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Party!

I "attended" my brother Ean's graduation party last night via Skype. I basically sat in a corner and creeped on people for a while, but it was really nice. I found out a few things about myself:

1. I am craving traditional American breakfast food more than I realized. I'm really glad that so many people showed up at the party... but my mom promised me some leftover bacon. Tragic.

2. You can tell who just about everyone is by their hind end. Sorry, hope that doesn't make anyone uncomfortable... it did me for a while.

3. I miss "home" people more than I realized.

Congrats Ean.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Hmmm...

Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I am just supposed to sit and relax and be unemployed. I'm working really hard on finding the good things, finding the lesson. But I'm tired.

I lost my summer job due to under-enrollment. My stability is just... gone.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Constanţa Cont.

A lot has happened in the last few days. Most of it involved pain of some kind, but I think I'm on the upward track finally.

I enjoyed exploring Constanţa on Saturday afternoon and evening, and slept incredibly well. You wouldn't think that to get good sleep you should go to a hostel, but all of my evidence points to the contrary. Sunday morning I got up and went out... and thus it began.

I was in the old part of the city, in a place where the pavement is really broken up and there is loose stone and rock everywhere. Everything was going well- beautiful crisp morning, tons of sunshine, the sea to the east and incredible history and culture all around me. And then my friend the Dacia (circa 1271) passed by making a noise I have NEVER heard a car make. And I'm my father's child... I've heard cars make some weird noises. In my moment of distraction (and okay, amazement at the functionality of this car) I rolled my right ankle- the weak one- and fell pretty hard on the stone. I was in walking sandals and consequently hit the big toe of my left foot pretty hard on the broken pavement.

I kind of realized the severity of the situation when I looked down to see the blood all over my leg from the loose stones. I have a habit of talking myself through stressful/traumatic conversations. Yes, I do this aloud... the presence of another voice helps.

"You're okay. You're okay. Stephanie, you are okay. You are going to get up and start walking and you are going to figure out what to do. This is fine, no big deal. You are totally fine. OH my God I can't move my ankle. Okay, get to the shade. Get to the shade. Holy **** this hurts. Okay, we need a plan. We'll figure this out, no worries. It's okay, you can figure this out. Shade first- get into the shade. We can do this."

And it continued. My (incredible) hostel host Dave rescued me in his van and drove me back, where I iced and cleaned and bandaged and realized I really was going to need to go to the hospital. Dave and Mada and I climbed into the van and went in search of a clinic, but ended up at the emergency room as it was a Sunday. Mada was there to help out with language issues, and the service was incredibly fast, if lacking a bit in tenderness. They took me right in and I got an injection (I freaked at first because I thought they were going to inject my knee), but it was just a tetnus booster. I then had my leg cleaned up... with rubbing alcohol. I've never sucked in such exclamations of pain in my life. Right after that I was headed to radiology, but not before I had to get undressed and into a (used and quite smelly) hosptial gown... in the middle of the hallway. No big deal, right?

The emergency part of the hospital is very modern. The rest of the hospital is not. My personal wheelchair woman Laura pushed me down a ramp to the radiology hallway and ohhhhh buddy. It was like a time warp back to 1972. The walls were grey and bleak, the tiles that were left in the ceiling were not doing a very good job of stopping the gross drippings that we were swerving to avoid. They took something like 14 xrays- loads of my ankle, plenty of my toe, and then a few of my scraped knee. Just in case, I suppose.

After the radiology room I was wheeled to an elevator (the old freight kind, with an attendant and the squeeky metal doors) and taken to the fifth floor. I counted, because I was trying to distract myself from the pain- it took 129 seconds to go from ground to 5. I should say that all of this, and I've not had any sort of pain medication at all- at all. So imagine my horror when I was wheeled into a creepy little doctor experiment room with a tiny little window at the top and instructed to lay on a couch. And then the most swarthy and giant Romanian man I have EVER seen picks up my leg and just like THAT he sets my ankle and then plasters it. Um, ouch.

I was told to stay off of my ankle completely, but also that the hospital didn't have any crutches. Good plan... I just got them, nearly 48 hours and 2 trips to school and 14 classes later. The pain pills aren't exactly the most effective things... basically the equivalent of Ibuprofin. I don't have a residency permit here, so I had to pay right there for my treatment. Folks in the States are going to freak out about this... emergency room treatment, tetnus booster, 14 xrays, doctor consultation, plaster casting... 450 RON. Do the conversation (about a 3 to 1 ratio for those in the States)... it is going to blow your mind. I think they charge you more for diapers in American hospitals.

There is a lot to complain about here... but also so so much to be thankful for.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

Constanţa

I almost took a mountain bike this morning. The only consolation that I am repeating again and again is that maybe instead of falling and fracturing my ankle I would have gotten hit by a car or something. And then I would be dead or in the hospital instead of writing this blog. But then again, my ankle wouldn’t be aching inside of this cast either. It’s a toss-up, really. But then of course, the whole trip started on a bit of an odd trajectory. I should have guessed.

The city of Constanţa is really a lovely place. It’s a pretty big city (the third largest in Romania) and offers a very different landscape and culture than anywhere else I have traveled. It is located on the coast of the Black Sea, and is THE summer vacation destination for a lot of sea-going Romanians. The beaches are incredibly beautiful and the old part of the city is charming. The harbor is peaceful and there are a million little places around the city to visit. I love traveling to places that I can get to know in just a few hours.

I didn’t sleep at all on Friday night because my train was scheduled to leave quite early and I didn’t want to sleep for a few hours and then be totally exhausted. My logic is a mess, I know- but it works for me. I got to the station on Saturday morning and got on the rather modern (by Romanian standards) train, looking forward to going to sleep and waking up in Constanta. This plan went swimmingly until about 30 minutes into the journey, when we stopped. Now, I’ve sat in a train before and I wasn’t really too concerned… until about 30 minutes later. And then 45 minutes, and then 60 minutes… we just kept sitting. A little bit odd, but at least I am comfortable and cool, right? Nope. This is the part of the story where they turn the air conditioning off and we all suffocate. Slight exaggeration… instead of suffocating people just started taking their clothing off.

I'm too drugged (legit medicine from a doctor...) to continue this for now. More to come...

Friday, June 3, 2011

Things I've Done Today

6:45 am: Wake up. Twice. Two alarms. Stumble to the bathroom, use the toilet, look in the mirror and determine that I really don't need to wash my hair, thus affording me about 30 minutes more sleep.

6:47 am: Reset alarms for 7:15 am and crash.

7:30 am: Wake up in a start (thank goodness for half consciousness) and jump out of bed, throw clothing on, french braid my hair (dang, I really should have showered...) and grab my bag.

7:35 am: Walk like a zombie to school. Pretty sure I saw one of my students walking with his mom, but I don't have a lot of recollection about the journey.

8:00 am: Oh my goodness. I don't think I can do this. 1F will be the death of my spirit and creative potential and life force... twice today.

8:45 am: Yeah, I'm taking a ten minute nap in the teacher's bathroom.

8:55 am: Can 9:40 get here soon enough? Because having 1A once a week is difficult enough, let alone two days in a row.

9:40 am: Back to the teacher's bathroom for nap time.

10:00 am: Woops. I missed that bell. I should probably go to class. Except. Ugh... I have nothing to do with these students because there are only 2 classes left and I finished the unit yesterday. Bring on the 45 minutes (well, 40 :) of making crap up. Oh, and eating bread.

10:40 am: Okay, I can hang in the teacher's lounge and pad a certain amount of grades in the catalog to ensure my 8th graders all get a 10, regardless of effort or quality of work performed this year.

10:50 am: Well hello again, 1F. Please just... um... color. Please stop yelling. Okay, stop yelling now. You probably shouldn't swing between the chairs. Is there a reason you cannot stop running? Why is it that you aren't listening to a thing I say? Okay, just talk right over me. None of these songs are working. None of these tricks are working. Please just color. Don't mind me, I'll just be strangling myself with this scarf. No worries.

11:31 am: Seriously. So. Close.

11:32 am: No way has it only been one minute.

11:34 am: Let's count really loudly. Really loudly.

11:35 am: I am free. Freedom. What is this? Such a curious feeling.

11:45 am: This chicken tastes really good.

12:19 pm: Why isn't Vodaphone open? That isn't very nice, because I need more credit on my phone. Who takes a lunch break, seriously?

12:35 pm: Sleep. It's rather glorious.

And then the rest of the day happened.

Tuesday, May 31, 2011

Reverse Culture Shock

According to the internet, reverse culture shock is a very serious problem.

Okay, according to everyone who has ever lived abroad, reverse culture shock is something to contend with upon arriving back in the country/culture of origin.

Apparently there are four stages of reverse culture shock.

1. Disengagement
2. Initial euphoria
3. Irribility and hostility
4. Readjustment and adaptation

Can I just take a moment to note the language usage in these stages? Numbers one, two, and four are all pretty topic-centered, psychology-based words. They "fit" with the model and make the whole thing sound less awful. I think they just didn't have another way to define number three, which I have edited for accuracy below:

3. Collosal b***ch mode

Because that is what is going to happen. Just saying...

I am already starting to go through this, so I know it is real. And I'm really worried about it.

I do have one request for everyone in the States though. According to this "Safety Abroad" handbook for study abroad students that I read, these feelings come from the following:

"Often students expect to be able to pick up exactly where they left off... the inconsistency between expectations and reality, plus the lack of interest on the part of family and friends (nobody seems to really care about all of your 'while I was abroad' stories) may result in: frustration, feelings of alienation..."

So it is clearly not my fault for leaving the United States. It is not my fault that I will be crazy overwhelmed and "irritable and hostile" because I chose to immerse myself in another culture for 10 months. It is not my fault that it will take me a while not to feel weird in the States. It is your fault, dear family and friends, for not being interested enough in my stories. Right?

Yeah, that is what I'm walking away with.

Wrapping Up

There is something special about knowing exactly how many classes you have left to teach before the end of the school year. Those final weeks, days, and minutes tick away at a school in the States... but here I count classes.

My regular full-load is 21 classes in a week... so with three weeks left, that should be fairly easy to figure out.

I would like to pause and remind you that this is Romania.

I have extra classes this week, extra classes next week, and extra classes the last week. However, I also have fewer classes this week (according to the latest update), fewer classes next week, and fewer classes the week after that. Apparently there are days off that not all the teachers know about, and my last two days of classes aren't really classes... but are they? I have absolutely NO way of knowing because, well, I don't know. At least I know that I have to ask now, but when you are literally told three different things, it gets a little complicated.

Maybe this is just a way for me to stay focused on living in the moment. I literally cannot count down... because I have no idea.

Ahh, Romania.

Monday, May 30, 2011

Commencement

The Sablich family is approaching the end of an era.

When you look at a family history within a community, the arc often covers a considerable span of time. I started school at the Blissfield Community School district in the fall of 1993, and my youngest brother in graduating in the spring of 2011. My family has been involved in this school system for 18 years... and I sometimes wonder why my parents are sad about the end of this age. Think about it- the majority of their MARRIAGE has been spent in some sort of affiliation with BCS.

Regardless, it is striking to consider the changes that have taken place in the world while our family grew up. When I started school President Clinton was still in his first year. Welfare reform hadn't even appeared yet and the majority of households did not have personal computers. President Bush the second had not even appeared on the horizon as a national game-changer and policy maker (ugh...) and we lived in the security of a pre-September 11th world. The war and the other war and the other war hadn't started and the global economy hadn't tanked. This country had not yet elected a biracial (and possibly Socialist :) president. Things have certainly changed in the last eighteen years.

And in my family... things have changed. We have gone through recreational league soccer and volleyball and softball and swimming and volleyball and baseball and basketball. We have traveled the country together and conquered the I-80 stretch from Ohio to Chicago- so many times. We have made good friends and said goodbye to dear family members. We have spent 18 years doing homework and attending parent-teacher conferences and fighting about bedtimes. We have attended spring recitals and band concerts and festivals and parades. We have watched endless baseball games and football games and basketball games and volleyball games. We have gone to church and on weekend retreats and attended revitalizing conferences. We have argued and struggled with the changing and fluid family dynamic as we grew together. We have become independent and dependent on stability at the same time, and we have watched our members come and go. We have changed.

It's an interesting vantage point, from this side of 18 years. And if you know my mom, give her a hug and tell her it's okay to cry. Pat my dad on the back, and watch him smile with pride. And then find my baby brother and give him your best wishes on his incredible journey and his incredibly bright future. I am ridiculously proud.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

YOU

This blog posting is for you. Yes, you. You who are reading this whilst sipping coffee in the morning, or skipping out of work. You who are reading this to take a break from studying (you know who you are...) or to catch up at the end of the day or to stop thinking about the pain in your knee.

You who has supported me through my time here in Romania with calls and emails and packages. You who I have counted on to cry to and rejoice with. You who I have watched movies with and discussed books with and shared experiences with. You who has talked me through nights of loneliness and fear, you who has cared about my well-being. You whose name excites me when I see it on Skype or in my inbox, you who can make me laugh like no one else. You who understands me and makes me feel comforted.

Thank you.

Saturday, May 21, 2011

Not the Same

When I first decided to move to Romania, one of the ways I pacified myself was the promise of communication. We live in a world of instant communication, via telephone or email or the marvels of Skype. I told myself and everyone else that it would be like I wasn't even gone. We could talk and stay involved in the life of the other and it would all be okay.

After spending a lot of time on Skype this week talking to various people, I've come to realize something that I should have suspected.

This is not the same. It is not the same as holding a baby in your arms. It is not the same as lying next to someone in a bed. It is not the same as sitting by a friend watching a movie. It is not the same as going out and experiencing life together.

You can get to know people, and discover new things about them. You can stay updated with the life events of friends. You can listen to laughter and participate in crying. You can even share experiences.

But it never will be the same as holding a the hand of a friend, feeling the touch of someone close, hearing the breath of voice in your ear.

This is not the same, and I really should stop telling myself it is.

Thursday, May 19, 2011

A Whisper

One month from this exact moment in time I will be on an airplane. I hope it's a really big airplane and I hope I have an aisle seat. And I'll go ahead and hope that there is an 8 year old child sitting next to me, taking up an appropriate amount of space whilst keeping themselves (and me) duly entertained. I'll also hope that I'll find a baby to play with, perhaps across the aisle. I hope the food is good (no airplane fish) and if I get really lucky there will be a good movie playing. I hope the hours preceeding this flight won't be too stressful, and that I'll have been able to get my hockey bag of a suitcase to the airport by myself.

Most of all, I hope I'm not filled with the inexplicable sense of sadness that I feel when I think about one month from right now.

Wednesday, May 11, 2011

Toenails

I had an EPIC realization today. Monumental, life changing, incredible realization.

My toenails have been the same color for 22 months. And I am someone who likes change. I moved to Romania for goodness sakes!

And the weird thing is... I am not at all discontent with the burnt orange shade. Not even a little bit interested in change.

WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

(Please understand that I understand that this is a pointless post.)

Personality

In the summer of 2006 I took a personality assessment called the MBTI- Myers-Briggs Type Inventory. This was for the Honors Program orientation at Anderson University, and it was pretty cool to take the assessment (I like that kind of thing) but also to read about myself. I know that lots of times assessments like this are dependent on the day, the mood or circumstance of the person taking it, and lots of other contextual factors... but I found my results to be dead on. I also know that these can change over time, but mine has remained the same for the last 5 years.

I am an ENFJ through and through :)

Basically, the reason I am talking about this is because I've run out of ideas for what to do with some of my older students. Especially the eighth grade- they literally have 5 weeks (nearly 4) left until high school, they re increasingly concerned about exams that are coming up, and optional English isn't exactly somewhere they want to focus their energy. I've assigned the last project and it is due in a few weeks, but the absense of a computer lab in the school means that most of the work for the project has to be done at home.

So we are going to do the MBTI. What better time to learn about yourself, right? I loved this type of thing at that age, and I'm hoping my students don't absolutely hate it at the very least.

What is your type?

http://www.humanmetrics.com/cgi-win/JTypes2.asp

http://www.personalitypage.com/high-level.html

Sunday, May 8, 2011

Playworks

I have said for a long time that I could be perfectly happy if I could spend my days playing with children.

Please go ahead and check out the job that I just applied for:

http://www.playworks.org/careers/school-openings

I'm really hoping this works out.

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Unwaveringly American

The other night I was walking the road from Piaţa Romana back to my flat near Tineretului, I had a food craving. I get food cravings every once in a while, usually for good Mexican and Chinese, and the Thai food I've been missing so desperately. However, this night I was struck by an unabashedly American craving: Chicken McNuggets and a Diet Coke. Lucky for me there is a McDonald's at Piaţa Unirii, and so I continued on my walk armed with 4 delicious little processed balls of fried meat and the mixture of chemicals and carbonation equipped to clean industrial tar plants. And I thought about what I must look like, for all of my efforts to blend with local culture. I am simply an American.

How to Spot an American in Romania:
1. Eating at McDonalds
2. Laughing at the presence of KFC
3. Wearing jeans, but the boot leg type found at the Gap or Old Navy or on the Kohl's super-sale Saturdays... the Route 66 type found at your local K-Mart
4. Tennis shoes that are simply not sneakers
5. Alternatively, wearing Tivos
6. Hoodies from an American college or university
7. A curious appreciation for the- ahem- architecture covered with billboards- ahem as indicated by pointing and staring and pretending to look contemplative
8. Whispering about the ugliness of said commercial endeavours
9. Talking... loudly... about nothing... in restaurants
10. Commenting on how "charming" the local flavor is with no understanding of the trouble it causes to everyday Romanian people
11. Constant and visible frustration and dismay at people touching them and cutting in front of them in lines
12. Carrying maps- unfolded- on the metro
13. Speaking about how proud they are that they sucessfully navigated the Metro System
14. Continuing on, expressing surprise at how nice and efficient the Metro can be, despite the fact that Bucharest is the 6th largest city in Europe
15. In the winter, wearing a Columbia or North Face jacket
16. Speaking to shopowners and restaurant staff in English, exclusively
17. Gesturing wildly to cab drivers
18. Climbing into taxi cabs that have a posted rate this ISN'T 1.39 lei/km
19. Hesitating and false starting at every zebra crossing (though it can be noted that this might be an advisable behavior for everyone to copy)
20. Complaining amongst themselves about the lack of ice and fountain drinks
21. Wearing a Jansen backpack and carrying a guide book- dead giveaway

This is all for now. More suggestions are welcome and will be added :)

I Told You

One of the most unsatisfying parts of living in Romania's capital city is knowing what this place used to be like, before it got bulldozed. I've seen some pictures and read some articles that indicate how destructive Ceausescu's ego and plan for systemization was... but sometimes it is difficult to convey that point to people not familiar with the current state of affairs.

I've recently been stuffing myself with the content of a blog by the editor of Bucharest in Your Pocket, one of the most well-known and truthful magazines about Bucharest. Thanks to the good people at Bucharestlife.net, here are the following maps. Keep in mind these are the SAME areas of the city, the first from 1979 and the following from 2009.








That is the old part of the city they messed up. The pretty part, really.

Thursday, May 5, 2011

I Really Shouldn't...

Complaining is, for one thing, completely pointless. There is nothing that my complaining will make better. Secondly, I have been blessed with really amazing weather lately- it did not rain ONE TIME on my entire spring break trip. Not only didn't it rain, but it was beautiful. Peeling sunburn beautiful, in fact. (Though it did mean I carried an umbrella around for 10 days on my back for no good reason.)

But it has been raining for what feels like weeks here. There were puddles that turned into rivers that turned into lakes that have become the Gulf of Mexico. Not quite an ocean, but it is still full of sharks and it tastes bad.

I wore three outfits today, this day that I teach two classes. The first outfit was rather lovely, an "urban-chic" look (I know I flatter myself) of kahki pants and a white turtleneck with black shawl. About 58.3 steps from the front door of my bloc... SPLASH. That was a huge truck, that was Lake Michigan, and now I'm covered in water. Okay, if I hurry back now I can change.

No time for fashion, but amazed that I still looked devestatingly awesome... ahem... I was out the door again. I'm sure people think I'm the in CIA after all the glancing and head turning and flying leaps I did to avoid getting splashed again, but I made it nearly all the way to school. Ahh, a nice zebra crosswalk.

Yeah right. SPLASH. All over me. Drity water (...just like the poor Gulf of Mexico... was this joke in bad form?), all oil slick and smelly. In my hair, dripping off my eyelashes, running down my cheeks, seeping down my shirt, drenching my pants, wetting my feet.

Ugh.

Life Stories

The following are 5 of the best autobiographies from Class 6B. They were asked to write the story of their life as if they were 50 years old. Enjoy :)

Georges
I have appeared into this world on the 9th of September 1998. I was kind of fat, but the other people said that I was the cutest boy they’ve ever seen. I have first said the word “popa” which means food (in baby’s world.)
My childhood was good, actually great. I was playing all the time. I like very much a song. I don’t remember what was it’s name, but when I was hearing it on the TV, I was running like a dog chasing a cat to the TV. I was sitting near the TV and looking at it without moving. My mother told me that I was looking like a zombie.
The first years of school were funny, but the other 12 classes were hard, very hard. In fact I was getting great marks, I was practicing basketball and I was swimming, but I didn’t have enough time for talking (with the girls.) It was hard, but I don’t regret it because I had a great time after school.
I had a career of a professional basketballer. I was the best in high school, in college… I was scoring lots of points per game, but one day an injury stopped me on my way to the NBA. I had a trade request from the Chicago Bulls. I was very sad, but I couldn’t do anything about it.
At 30 years old I got married with a beautiful woman. I have met her in a club in Hollywood. She was sitting at a table with her boyfriend and I asked her if she had got a cigarette. I looked in her eyes. She did the same thing. We started seeing each other and one day, I told her that I loved her.
We had a boy together. His name was Derrick. We loved him very much. He was always getting good marks at school, he was playing football very well, but I was sad because he was smoking. At the age of 20 he left home and tried to live alone his life. Me and my wife moved to Chicago where we met my American teacher, Stephanie, from a school. We were always seeing each other.

Victor
Everybody have got a big and difficult life in the beginning. After, it all depends on your job and career. When I was young (1-5 years old) my life was very beautiful and sweet. My parents used to tell me that I would to have life experiences, perseverance and responsibility to resist in this world.
I started school when I was 5. My teacher was very good and I loved her much because she wasn’t strict with us, so I learned quickly. In grades 5-8 all of these things changed. Our teachers were very strict and subjective at grades. Finally I was admitted in Sova Highschool and I was very happy.
Then, I began my life. After 8 years I finished the university. When I was 18, I was learning bass music for 5 yers. I because a professionist. My first concert was in Bucharest with 3000 fans. The name of the band was “COPYRIGHT.” The drummer was my friend Luca Rusu, the voice was Alexandru Pescaru, and the hero fock guitarist was Steven. It was great. It didn’t remain too much time because the band would take drugs for making music.
So, our band was disbanded and I had a job named program maker. I built my house when I was 24. It means the floors downstairs: a big living room, two kitchens, garage and a garden and upstairs: 7 rooms, 3 bathrooms, and so on. After a year I got married with Alicia Keys. I had two children named Alex and David. I met Alex and Luca, my friends, to make a new street band (just a hobby).
In the last 30 years I built a career in “IT” and I am the general manager of Blueberry Inc. which produces software for the new generation of computers. I’m a happy grandpa and very proud of my family. My sons followed different ways in their life: Alex is a pop singer and David is a rugby player. I think that my life was beautiful and interesting, but it passed too quickly. I still have a thousand things to do.

Cristiana
I was born in the 24th of July 1998. It was a very hot day. I’m in the sign Leo, I really love this sign and I don’t want to be another!
My childhood was very pretty and full of joy, but when I was 7 years old my grandmother died. It was sad, but now I’m okay and fine. I traveled many times in other countries: Greece, Netherlands (my aunt is there), America (one of my aunts is there), UK, but I don’t remember too much since I was there.
I never went to nursery, my mother stayed with me. I was in kindergarten and then at the school where I’m now. But (it’s sad) next year I want to go to the Tonitra School (a school of arts).
Well…hmm…I want to become a designed in Netherland or a singer (the biggest one). My favorite singers who inspire me are: Demi Lovato, Selena Gomez and Britney Spears. My favorite songs are: Leona Lewis- Theme from Avatar (I see you, I love this song), Lemi Lovato- Everytime you Lie, and Christina Aguilera- Burlesque.
Well, now I’m a designer and a singer too. Now I’m in Netherland in Enshede, in a beautiful house near the center. I have a house in UK too. It is in London. And, a house (the house of my aunt) in Florida, America.
I’ve married in Netherland near the Nord Sea in a big hotel. My husband’s name is Jake. His nationality is Dutch.
Now, I’ve had a beautiful life and I don’t want to last it!

Alex
Hi! I am writing this for my little nephew: Please do not make the same mistakes as I did…I want you to get the right decisions in life.
My childhood wasn’t that special. In fact, it was not special at all. There were good times, bad times, but I can’t remember those old days. My parents took me to a good school with a lot of friendly mates.
Even though getting only good marks wasn’t one of my gifts, I was really talented playing guitar. I’ve had lots of concerts at the age of 12. Later my parents told me to go to a good highschool. That meant that all the band mates I had. It was a bad decision… it started a war and I volunteered at the age of 21.
I have lost my right arm in a dangerous mission. But at the end of the war all over the television was talking about our victory. One day I was watching TV and I saw a documentary about war. Suddenly, I saw something terrible: it was a picture of the soldiers that won our war! And the former drummer of our band was in the picture! Too bad he died of cancer.
After that, I got married. Me and my wife gathered money and I got my arm back- a cybermetric arm. You can see that now I am happy.
But I want you to choose another road. Make me proud you’re my nephew.

Bogdan
I was born on June 11, 1998 in Bucharest, Romania. My parents, Dan and Crina had been married for six years when I was born. When I was brought home from the hospital, my dad played “My Little Man” by Ozzie Osbourne. My mom says I was a nice and calm baby, but I have the scars to prove her wrong. I grew up in an apartment, and I had everything I needed. My younger sister, Julia was born on February 9th, 2004.
My first day of school was on September 15th, 2005. During my primary years, I was kind of a dork. Then, in elementary school, my sense of humor started to evolve. I went to high school in England, and I got a scholarship to Julliard, in New York.
That’s where I met my wife, Aimee. We got married on September 14th, 2023, then we moved to LA. My sister and her husband moved not so far away, in a house three blocks from ours, in 2017. Our twins, Cameron Michelle and Aidan James were born on April 4th, 2028. I was hired as a stand-up comedian at a local café in 2029. I worked there for a bout 3 years, when I was spotted by a director and I was cast in Steven Spielberg’s last movie, a collab with James Cameron. Meanwhile, our third child, Milo Andrew was born on July 4th, 2034. The movie, called “Shadows,” premiered on August 19th, 2035, and it starred me as Deputy Mike Hendricks. Milo got involved with print campaigns, while Cameron (who had played Janie Hendricks, my daughter, in the movie) and Aidan (who played Bear Andrews on “Criminal Minds for 5 episodes) were cast in “American Twins,” a sitcom about twins living in America. While I got involved with more and more movies, Aimee became a writer. Her first novel, “Hiding Behind a Willow,” made her famous. The twins are 20 years old and still acting, Milo is a sophomore and got a guest starring role as Teenage Peter on “Fringe.” His character will return for at least 13 episodes. I am still acting, and Aimee is in the midst of her newest novel. As for my sister, she had a beautiful daughter, named Jennifer. I had a great life.

Sunday, May 1, 2011

Missing

This weekend has provided a lot of time to focus on the concept of "missing."

There are things I'm going to miss about Romania:

1. Barking dogs. I wish I was joking, but they've become like little friends that ignore me.
2. The Bucureşti Metro. This is a seriously efficient and just COOL system. Plus the cars are all open so you feel like you are inside a giant snake. Um... awesome.
3. The Schedule. I'm not going to lie... teaching as many students as I do isn't easy. Not even remotely... but there are also two days a week that I don't teach until the afternoon. Going back to a 40+ hour workweek in the States might be a challenge, especially because I think it will be more like a 70+ hour workweek.
4. Shaworma Lafa de Pui. I shouldn't like it, I know. I can't help myself.
5. The Parking. I'm sure this wouldn't be on the list of things to miss if I were a driver, but the inventive attitudes of Romanian motor operators provides daily amusement.
6. The Horse Carts. Where else in the world are there entire regions with more horse carts than cars? I'm sure you could tell me but please don't. I'm enjoying life within my bubble of misperception.
7. The Contrasts. Giant concrete buildings built during the communist era that are now covered with huge fabric billboards illustrating the struggle to commercialize. Miles of concrete that runs directly into a huge green park. People who act cold and indifferent until you ask them for help and discover a new best friend. The best margarita I've ever had at a Mexican restaurant just west of Piaţa Universitatii.
8. The Babies. I've traveled in a lot of places, and I'm probably more of an internet creeper than you realize. I've seen babies from ALL over the world, and Romanian's have cornered the market on the most beautiful ones. They just... do.
9. The Inefficiency. This has been a source of frustration but also a source of amazing stories and chuckles on an almost daily basis. They passed out uniforms at my school this past week. 7 weeks of school left, folks.
10. The Landscape. You can travel three hours from where I'm at right now and be amongst rolling hills, towering mountain peaks, widespread plains, the Black Sea Coast, or the Danube Delta. The diversity here is incredible.
11. The History. Try reading just a bit about Romania's history. Pick a city like Oradea or Cluj-Napoca, or a region like Maramureş or Transylvania. You will get lost in the history of this place, the amount of times it has changed hands. It's amazing there is even a culture in some areas at all... but it's strong.
12. The People. This goes without explanation.

These are the things I currently miss about the States:

1. Restaurants. I miss going to restaurants that don't cause me stress about telling them I speak English, or attempting to speak Romanian and having the waitstaff IMMEDIATELY switch to English. I said "potato" the right way, dangit!
2. Microwave. Seriously- living without microwave popcorn and the ability to reheat the pasta I ALWAYS cook too much of is wearing on me.
3. Drying Machines. Living in Romania will always be with me, and I'm quite sure I'll use a drying rack for some items in the future. Let's face it, it really is more efficient and better for the environment. Plus, it's probably good to get in the habit of planning and doing laundry BEFORE you have just one pair of underwear left. But washing sheets is a challenge here. And I like nice clean sheets.
4. Driving. For all the joys of public transportation and the MULTITUDE of train stories I have, there are times I miss driving. I miss getting into my cute little car and rolling the windows down and turning my music on over the stereo and just GOING.
5. English. I am starting to fall in love with the Romanian language, and I've found that in some situations I understand as much as 50% of what is being said, and even more whilst reading. However, I do miss English sometimes. I miss having conversations where I'm not thinking about every word (something you do as an elementary teacher anyway) and having easy interactions and being able to go places and read signs and know what is going on.
6. Cooking. I have a lot of recipes that I tried last year, and I started to get pretty good at cooking. I have one pot, one pan, and one skillet here. And an over the size of your toilet bowl. I miss cooking with real kitchen utensils and ingredients that I don't have to hunt down and modify, and feeling like I can do things without twice as much effort as I'm sometimes willing to exert.
7. Netflix and Hulu. I've found creative ways of watching television and movies here, but sometimes I just miss the ease of Netflix.
8. Money. I feel bad even typing this... but I miss having an income that is even slightly disposable. Scrimping and saving is good, really. It is a good life lesson, I do believe. However, I already had this, like sophomore year of college when I checed my bank account and decided I had exactly $2.50 to spend at the store. Having lived the other way for a while... it is kind of nice.
9. Cleaning... things. For a really long time I stood in about 6 inches of water every time I showered because I couldn't find drain cleaner at the store. Just today I spent about 30 minutes SWEEPING (with a broom) my 4x7' rug because I don't have a vacuum cleaner. Things that make life easier... I miss these sorts of things.
10. Relevant Information. This was much worse during the first semester at school, but there are still times when I have NO idea what is going on. Oh, there isn't class today? Oh, you only meet with form teachers on this day? Oh, you do grades in blue and then final grades in red? Oh, the little guys should get FB, not numerical grades? Oh, I can take attendance? Oh, I can't give a grade below a 9? Oh, the first grade is going on a field trip? Oh, you have to sign up to have a cupboard in the teacher's lounge? Lots and lots of stuff... At least in the States I know what I don't know. Oh, and copy machines. And schools that pay for printing.
11. Target. I won't lie. I miss Target. I miss their beauty section and their collection of discount DVDs and the electronics section. I miss wandering through the home and furniture department and even back into camping. I miss the clothing- the 75% off racks and trying on clothing you KNOW won't look good but feels good because you can afford it and it is just SO cute. I miss the cafe. And fountain pop. And their grocery section with the cool foods and their own special brand.
12. The people. This also goes without explanation.

Friday, April 29, 2011

35

I've long been a fan of the 5's pattern. I love teaching it, it is nice and rounded off and conforms to my werid desire for order.

I have 35 days of school left. For a while I was counting down the days in anticipation, looking forward to the dwindling numbers. I'm not sure what happened, but now I'm aching for time to slow down. Each day passes with a sort of regret, and I find myself on yet another Friday afternoon longing for more time.

More time in the country of incredible contrasts, wonderous beauty, and warm hearts. More time with these students that I am just now getting to know and love. More time in this place of joy and peace and sometimes frustration. I cannot believe this chapter of my life is coming to an end.

There are obviously big things ahead. I cannot wait to see my family and friends, start an exciting new summer job, and plan the future. I'm looking forward to so much, but this place is going to stay in my heart.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Trip Log

8:00pm: The train just pulled out of Oradea and I have a sense that I’m leaving one of the few places on Earth where I can be truly happy. I’m in a nice compartment, about 10 times better than the train I was on from Cluj-Napoca. There are two people on the other side of the compartment and I have a lovely seat next to the window… number 56, the same seat I’ve had on 7 previous trips. I suppose there is a benefit to going early. I also very nearly lost my water bottle- about 5 minutes before the train pulled away I remembered that I had left it in the station. My poor friend looked so lonely when I ran in to grab him… and then chased the train a bit. Luckily I had at least grabbed my bag with wallet, passport, and phone. I'm not totally stupid.

9:00pm: I’ve not even finished “Driving Miss Daisy” and it’s already one of my favorite movies. I’m kind of dreading when one of them dies… I mean, one of them is going to die at some point. I hope they die together in a car crash. I’m alone in the compartment and taking advantage of it. I need to go to sleep soon and spread out across the seats so that people leave the compartment alone.

9:30pm: He is feeding her now. This is the best movie ever. No one dies.

9:35pm: I’ve made a makeshift bed and I’m going to sleep. All the way to Bucureşti.

10:41pm: Hahahaha. Maybe not all the way to Bucureşti. Just to Cluj-Napoca, where a selfish person came into my compartment and took a seat NEXT to me. Was that really necessary, you prissy girl with the curled hair and the leggings? No.

1:30am: Just finished watching “Shakespeare in Love.” So cute…

4:52am: Dang it. That was a nice long nap. Welcome to Braşov… again. Really, guys? I know you love each other... but please stop sucking face in my train compartment. It isn't even 5am. And why do you need the light on? You don't. You don't need the light to be on at all.

5:45am: So sweaty.

5:47am: SOOOO sweaty.

5:54am: Why do I do this to myself?

6:30am: 3 hours to go, and I’m conking out… again.

8:30am: So sweaty and gross. I’ve been wearing the same clothes for 24 hours now. I need a shower. I need a bath. I need a better method of travel. I need money so that I can fly places. I need this train ride to be over.

9:27am: Ahh, home sweet Bucureşti. Gara de Nord. I’m off to buy more train tickets for this EXACT same journey in about 3 weeks 

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Kindred Spirits and the Purpose of MY Life

I've spent the last three days in Oradea, my original gateway to this incredible place I've called home for the last 8 months.

I've never been happier. Never. The kind of happy that emboldens me to feel like I can do anything, face challenges yet unconquered, and be truly content.

To begin, I'm staying in the Noble House at Caminul Felix Village Two, where they host most of the missionary groups and visitors who come to work. There are currently 9 other people staying here. Lars, Julius, Willard, Jake, Larry, David, John, Gary, and Steve have become my neighbors, my entertainment, and my friends. The youngest man is 52 years old and the oldest is 83, and wow do they have stories. I don't think I could ever tire of spending time with these wonderful gentlemen. I spent the afternoon playing tour guide and translator for these men in downtown Oradea... one of the most shining times in recent memories.

Now for the purpose of my life. I'm feeling pretty lucky to be 22 years old and have fully and totally discovered that I'm supposed to hang around kids. How can you deny that this kind of joy isn't related to some larger/bigger/higher calling?

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

Life Again



I've noticed a sense on increasing happiness lately, and I wasn't entirely sure where it came from. I am moving quickly towards the end of my time in Romania, but I didn't think this was the reason for my joy. School is still challenging and I still get sick with way more frequency than normal. Bucureşti is still a sprawling concrete jungle and I am still 7 time zones away from most of my friends. But I have been happier, and it wasn't until about 2:47 in the afternoon in Cluj-Napoca that I realized why.



At 2:47 in the afternoon I looked at my watch as I sat under a tree in the middle of the Botanical Gardens. At 2:47 I could hear the birds chirp and feel the breeze play across my skin and I could see signs of life. Not just any sign of life, but the tender and beautiful signs of life that come every spring. New and delicate buds on the branches, flowers that are just starting to bloom, and tiny shoots of green everywhere. At 2:47 I realized that my happiness is a result of life, and how blessed I am to experience it in this place.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

Children

About an hour into the six-hour journey from Sighetu Marmaţiei to Cluj-Napoca, my train compartment was invaded by a few additional people. I was completely wiped out from two full days in Maramureş and little sleep the previous night, so I struggled to pull myself awake and move back to taking up just one seat on the train. Two of the people who boarded soon became my source of entertainment for the next 5 hours.

The little girl was named Gabriela, and it wasn't long before we were playing silly games, drawing, looking at pictures on my computer, and counting stickers. She charmed me like you wouldn't believe, her smile electric and her mannerisms endearing. By the end of the trip she had made her way to my lap, falling asleep against my shoulder.

There is nothing like cuddling with a toddler to make you sweaty and sticky and incredibly happy. In all of the differences I observe here and struggle with, from language to customs to culture... children are the same the world over.

Celebration of Death?

One of the main attractions in Maramureş is the Merry Cemetery located in the village of Săpânţa. It was created by a wood sculptor named Stan Pătraş in 1935. He started painting each cross blue because the sky is where souls go, and he inscribed a witty poem about the deceased person.



Each cross has a unique inscription on it that tells the story of the person's life. It is designed to honor the life of the person as well as bring a certain happiness to the occasion, rather than the traditional mourning. It is about celebrating the life of the deceased person rather than dwelling on their passing.

I'm not so sure this isn't the way to do it. In my lifetime I've been to many funerals, but the ones I remember most are those of my four grandparents. My Grandpa Bernie died in December of 1998, and the strongest memory I have of the event is standing at his coffin while my Dad's hand shook on my shoulder right before they closed the casket. My Grandpa Morris passed away in February of 2002 and the most salient memory is of my cousin Jason walking in a few minutes late in his dress uniform from the Marines, and my grandmother crying out. My Grandma Fern passed away in September of 2009, and I'm struck by the memory of my brothers as pall bearers and my cousin Elizabeth crying at the church. All of these funerals were incredibly sad and vaguely uncomfortable.

When my Grandma Mary died in June of 2008, it was certainly a sad time. However, it was a time of celebration and discovery for me, because I had a chance to grieve before she was gone. I spent nearly two weeks with her and got to know her as the woman behind my grandmother. She didn't want a funeral, and instead of a sad one-day event I spent the summer memorializing her life. I traveled to many of her favorite places in the Four Corners region, hiking the trails she took and reliving experiences in the places she held dear. It was an incredible way to celebrate her life and process her death.

Walking through the Merry Cemetery, I was struck by the backwards traditions we sometimes observe. We stop talking about the deceased person and completely avoid any reference to those flaws that made them both human and endearing. We cry for a few days and then we mourn in private, expected to move on and process the end of a life with relative reservation and composure.

What are we doing wrong?

Monday, April 18, 2011

Memorial to the Victims of Communism and to the Resistance

Nearly two years ago I spent a few hours inside one of the world's foremost museums documenting the reign of terror in the Eastern Block: the Terror Museum in Budapest, Hungary. It was overwhelming and incredibly haunting. The museum is housed in the former Nazi and then Communist headquarters, and it creates an atmosphere quite unlike anything I've ever experienced. While not necessarily a similar sort of institution, I got the same feeling I imagine I would get if I visited a former concentration camp. The last part of the museum includes a visit to the torture and prison chambers in the basement that left chills running through my mind for days.

I never thought I would experience that sort of thing again...

Sighetu Marmaţiei was the site of one of the most notorious- and gruesome- prisons in communist Romania. It held political prisoners, dissidents, intellectuals, and anyone who the regime believed could be a challenge. Between the years of 1948 and 1952, 51 of the 180 prisoners held at Sighet died. It was one of the sites of the "re-education" program, an experiment in mind control that used horrific methods. The 2010 edition of the Lonely Planet guidebook to Romania describes it as such:

"Under an experimental system known as 're-education,' from 1949 to 1952, political prisoners were subjected to intolerable levels of abuse as a way of breaking down their identities in order to make them more amenable to the communist system... In the first stage prisoners were subjected to demeaning acts like scrubbing floors with rags between their teeth or having to lick toilets clean. Religious prisoners were humiliated through acts such as being baptized with buckets of urine. Next, prisoners were forced to betray fellow inmates who'd shown them any kindness or sympathy and then to renounce their own families. The point here was to sever any existing bonds of love or loyalty. In the final stage of the program, prisoners were forced to prove their succesful 'regeneration' by inflicting the same acts of mental and physical abuse on new prisoners. Failure to follow through meant having to spend weeks in a tiny isolation cell...."

It's sick, what happened there.

This former prison is now a museum... I spent time in the "black room," the tiny isolation cell mentioned. I closed the door and started my watch and came close to not breathing. I left when I started to panic... I lasted 57 seconds.

It's sick, what happened there. It's sick and awful and makes me question humanity in general.

And then I walked out into the sunshine, breathing normally, and wondering how I got so lucky to be born at a time and in a place of freedom.

Stories

I met a woman named Nomi, and her story has become interwoven with mine in the way only chance encounters and near-misses of opportunities can facilitate. She is from Israel, and her father was born in the Ukrainian town just across the river from Sighetu Marmaţiei. I knew that I wanted to cross the border into the Ukraine, and I figured I might walk around for a bit and then go right back to the Romanian side. Nomi was on her fourth trip to the village of Solotvyno, exploring because her father was born in the town and spent a year there during his adolescence. We crossed the border together and then I walked with her through the town, exploring the old Jewish quarter, the recently collapsed salt mine, and the rather haunting Jewish Cemetery.

This woman told me stories that inspired me and showed me a perspective that was my original motivation when visiting Sighetu Marmaţiei. The reason I wanted to visit this particular place is because this is where the writer and Nobel Peace Prize winner Elie Weisel spent his childhood, and where he was deported from in the spring of 1944. Jewish history has always fascinated me, especially the events surrounding the Holocaust and the impact on the people of Eastern Europe. Sighetu Marmaţiei seemed the perfect place to discover such a history, and meeting Nomi brought an element of living history to my journey.

I learned that her father studied under his uncle in Solotvyno, one of the most important Jewish men in the village. He returned to Palestine just years before the deportation of Jews in this region occurred, missing terror by a breath. His uncle was an elderly man, but apparently still held a great deal of influence. During transport to a concentration camp, he organized the group of men to jump off the car all at the same time. It was a suicide mission but an attempt to capture freedom, and a few of the younger men survived the shootings that took place immediately by hiding in the forest. Her connection to Holocaust history and to the village of Solotvyno is touching, and I felt incredibly small as we wandered around the Jewish cemetery together. Gravestones were crumbling and I made some comment regarding how they had been forgotten. Nomi’s reply won’t leave my head: “Not forgotten. All of the people have died. All of the Jews were killed.” Solotvyno has a Jewish population of just seven people now. And it didn’t strike me until I had left the cemetery, left the village, left the country- that some of the women we talked to would have remembered the occupation, the ghettos, and the deportation of an entire community. Where have these memories gone?

Nomi’s mother was German, and her family fled across the border to France when the war started. They were constantly on the move, eventually finding permanent refuge in a convent. Nomi told me that her mother attended 14 different schools during the war. There were times that her family would have the car packed and ready to flee again, just waiting for a school exam to finish. She clung to her education as a sense of stability, and finished her training when the war finished. She later moved to Israel and met Nomi’s father on a kibbutz. And 60 years later, I got to sit and hear these amazing stories.

Saturday, April 16, 2011

Cuddling

I am, in general, a pretty cuddly person. I enjoy getting physically close to someone and sharing warmth and connection. It has always been easier for me to sleep when I'm in bed with someone else.

But I don't sleep around. I'm usually pretty choosy about who I cuddle with and fairly selective of who I crawl into bed with. Until last night.

My friend Cristian (see previous post) went to sleep last night sometime after about 9:30, and I followed shortly after, still drying my tears from a viewing of "Out of Africa." On a side note, Meryl Streep is amazing and that movie does terrible things to your heart. I didn't even see it coming! Anyway, I fell asleep, alone, in my bottom bunk.

It was around 2:30 in the morning that I noticed an arm slung across my chest. Immediately startled, I sat up (of course I hit my head) and looked to see Cristian sound asleep in my bed. I knew that we had been pretty friendly and I was certain that the songs we had sung earlier had made a good impression, but I didn't think we were quite THAT close. I tried to wake him up with absolutely no success. The kid sleeps as hard as he plays, I guess. I didn't want to wake up his grandma or Dan, so I just moved over as far as I could to the inside of the bunk.

He followed about 10 minutes later. I tried to shift him, and he clung on like a baby chimpanzee. At this point I realized I could either forcibly remove him and wake an entire cabin of people on the precarious edge of sleep on a train rumbling through the Romanian countryside... or I could settle in. So Cristian and I snuggled as much as my sense of honor would allow. I woke up with hot, sticky kid breath on my neck as Cristian played with my hair absentmindedly. Maybe he just missed his mom, and I was her soft and warm substitute. Regardless, I slept with my first random last night, and it actually was rather lovely.

Train Diary

It took me two tries to successfully purchase a reservation on a sleeper car to travel to Sighetu Maramaţei in Maramureş. The first time I went to Gara de Nord in Bucureşti I was met at the ticket window by a very hostile woman who wasn’t very interested in me from the moment I said “I’m sorry, I only speak a little Romanian.” I showed her my accurately translated ticket and reservation requests, and she immediately began shaking her head at me. She sent me away, and I went to another window where the woman was friendlier but the result was the same- it seemed I could not purchase my tickets. Confused but short on time, I ran to catch my train, resolved that I would return another time.

The next time I tried, I found an agent who admitted to speaking a little bit of English, and discovered that while I could purchase all of the other tickets and reservations for my trip from her; I had to go somewhere special for the ticket on the sleeper car. I wasn’t at all concerned as I set off bolstered by her helpfulness, looking for window 809. Friends… I wandered around that station for about 45 minutes. Walking back and forth, up and down, entirely around the outside and into every little room I could find. No one knew where window 809 might be. Exhausted, I was nearly ready to go back and just book a regular seat on the SIXTEEN hour journey, when I had a stroke of luck. I saw two people walking together, speaking in English. This isn’t entirely uncommon at Gara de Nord in Bucareşti, as it is where many international travelers enter the country. What made this couple different was the fluid Romanian they spoke with service personnel outside the main entrance. Yes, eavesdropping sometimes pays off.

To their credit, they only laughed a little bit when they explained that I could buy my ticket and reservation from window 8 OR 9.

So here I am, about three hours into this journey, and incredibly thankful for a few things. Firstly, that I booked a reservation that doesn’t involve me sitting in a regular seat right now. For one thing, it is crowded- I wanted to see where exactly I would have been slumming it. For another, I’ve already taken a nap on the bed that is even more comfortable than my futon. My first night on spring break in relative luxury, compliments of CFR. Secondly, I am thankful that I have the bottom bunk in this cabin. The reservation said that there were four beds in a cabin; actually, there are three. And they are stacked one on top of another. The nosebleed bed is way up at the top of the cabin, naturally, and if I got up there in Bucureşti, it might be difficult to get back down before arriving in Sighet. I’m sharing a cabin with a grandmother and her two grandsons. Dan is 15 years old and speaks English pretty well, and his younger brother Cristian is 8 and filled with energy. I thought I was going to go crazy on this trip- I have no idea how he is going to survive. Maybe they’ll drug him in a few hours.

It is relatively quiet in the cabin, but the train noises are ever present and make me thankful for my iPod and noise-canceling earphones. I should be able to sleep tonight fairly easily, which will go a long way to making my first day in Maramureş enjoyable. For those of you who know me, I operate under a constant fear that I won’t have water to drink, and this trip is no exception. With the recent demise of Mr. Purple Nalgene (don’t worry, he came along for day trips) I had to rely on purchasing bottled water from the station and bringing it aboard with me. Now, I understand that this is a little bit maniacal, but I’m currently worried that the FOUR liters of water won’t be enough. I mean, I understand on an intellectual level that an entire village in Africa could probably survive on this much water for the trip if necessary, or that I actually could go 16 hours without drinking any water if it came to that. But my heart is still concerned, so much so that I’m going to hop off in Brasov and buy some more water.

*Update* I bought more water and ended up leaving about 3 liters on the train.

That brings me to the last thought for this blog posting- Braşov. I never thought I would find myself complaining about a trip through the mountains, but I’m getting tired of this ride. It’s terrible and horrendously ungrateful, I know. But I have been on these tracks quite a few times since my arrival in Romania. There was the first actual trip to Braşov and return to Bucureşti- 2 trips. Then, the trip to Braşov with my Dad made 3. The return from Sibiu made 4, the return from Sighişoara 5, and traveling to Maramureş makes 6. It is a bit different this time though- nothing like a thick layer of snow on the 15th of April to remind you that you are in the mountains. It is rather beautiful if not the best start to a spring break trip, and it makes me worried that I didn’t pack enough warm clothing. For all the improvement I’ve made on shoving 10 days worth of clothing into a backpack, they never seem to be the RIGHT ones.

One more thing I’m thankful for at the moment- power plug-ins. I’m going to watch a movie in the bottom bunk of a sleeper cabin in a sleeper car in ROMANIA. My life is awesome sometimes.

Saturday, April 9, 2011

A Cautionary Tale

Every once in a while, we do stupid things. Some of us do more stupid things than others. I am one of the "us."

I've done a lot of stupid things here in Romania, many of which I've told you about. There was the time I bought a train ticket for the wrong date (or at least failed to check it after purchase). There was the time (ahem... a few months) that I thought my washing machine was also a dryer. There was the time I closed the cover on the stove with a burner still on... and then touched it. Goodbye fingerprints. There was the time(s) I let all the water boil out of the pot.

Excuse me while I go turn the burner off.

Today might have been my most impressive display of stupidity yet.

It all started yesterday, when I lost my dear friend. My friend who has traveled the world with me, who hs supported me through many trying times and circumstances. My friend who brings me both nourishment and refreshment, who is with me so often I feel a sense of loss when we are separated. Yes, I am talking about my purple Nalgene water bottle. Those first graders knew just where his weakness was, and dropped him right on his unreinforced plastic head. Only a slight crack, but enough to render my buddy nearly useless for anything but drinking. No more throwing him in a bag to journey together again, no more tipping him up and down while watching a show online, no more fun memories and happy times. It was the end of an era...

I decided to go to the park today, as it was nearly 70 degrees out and sunny. I brought along my little computer buddy, so faithful and such a hard worker. He fits in my purse AND holds all my books for me. Well, a creature of habit I am, and so I tucked Mr. Nalgene into my purse to come along. A brief walk later I felt a droplet of water on my foot and realized in a flast of enlightenment... OH NO. Not only was the bottom of my purse soaked (Mr. Nalgene must have been tired after his accident yesterday- he fell over) but my computer was in there. My beloved, cute, blue baby of a computer. The little guy who worked so hard for me, who keeps me sane and connected here... and his only request is that I don't give him a bath. I failed, guys.

After about 10 minutes of blowdrying, he came back to life. Slowly but surely, as I restored all my faith in the world of technology and swore to all the computer gods that I would never be so disrespectful again, he turned back on.

Treat your loved ones with care, my friends.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

Post

Somewhere in Lonely Planet's guidebook to Romania (2010) it says that all you need to do to experience communist times in this country is to step inside a local post office branch. I've had my fair share of experience with the Romanian Postal Service and I can say with certainty (unlike some of my students) that we are better off living in the modern day.

The majority of my post office immersion has occured at the international office located way over there on THAT side of the city. Two metros, a bus, and a 500 meter walk later, you find yourself at what looks like a normal post office branch. The difference, my friends, is that it holds the key to happiness in the form of external package pickup. I've gotten quite a few packages during my time here, all very appreciated and even needed. But I should say that I steel myself against the experience. Usually going after school is the best option, because I'm out anyway and there is no way I can convince myself to actually leave the comforts of home to go through THAT ordeal.

Okay, maybe I'm painting too harsh a picture. It's not awful... just how it is here. I've learned about going RIGHT to the window, even if it means pushing that old woman out of the way. I've learned to stare at the postal employees so that they have no choice but to notice me (5 minutes later), and then to apologize when they see my passport from the USA. "I'm sorry, I only speak a little Romanian." Oh... not that much apparently. "I don't understand. I don't understand. (change accent slightly) I don't understand." Ahh- good. They now understand that I don't understand. Please stop looking at me like I'm an idiot. I'm really sorry, I am. I wish I was better at this but I'm not and you don't have to give me the eyes of hate and shame. Between 15 and 45 minutes later, I'm usually called back behind the counter to receive the package. More talking in Romanian and awkward head shaking, and I've signed and I'm out of there. Unless, oh wait- why am I paying money for this package? Ummm... I didn't do that last time. Okay. No, I don't have anything smaller than a 10 RON note. Please don't hate me... Oh shoot- my passport! I need my passport! Thanks, and please try to kill me from behind where I won't see you for forgetting to take my passport EVERY SINGLE TIME.

It's really not too awful... to pick something up.

I don't know if it is my own personal failures that cause such immense problems when I'm trying to send something, but I can say with great certainty that I'd rather pick something up from the post office, and not just because there is a box of goodies waiting for me. I cannot, to save my own LIFE, tell you why it takes such an absurdly long time to mail a card. I know it would be easier if I spoke Romanian... I know this. But all those other poor buggers speak Romanian, and they are behind me in line (that's right, more old-lady pushing). I've started playing a game while I wait that involves not looking at any clocks in an attempt to avoid the deep frustration experienced with the THIRTY FIVE minutes it took for the THREE attendants to help the FOUR people in front of me. Okay, I did look at the time.

It's fun, in a way...

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

Home

The old adage "home is where your heart is" is a very lovely thing to cross stitch and hang on your wall... when you have a place to live and a settled life and a career that isn't completely terrifying.

But my life isn't like that right now. I don't have a place to live or a settled life or a career that is certain.

And my heart isn't is one place, so you can imagine that the specific location of "home-" that one spot on the map- is pretty hard to figure out.

My heart is in Blissfield, where I grew up, where my roots are, where my parents are. My brothers have gone for the most part so the ties aren't as strong, but it is still the place where my childhood happened.

My heart is in Anderson, where I discovered my passions and my dreams and developed my person. I have friends there, and connections, and fantastic memories.

My heart is in Chicago, where I found myself independent and challenged and inescapably happy. I miss teaching in the city, walking in the city, listening to the city.

My heart is on the East Coast, where I have a fantastic job this summer and some prospects for the fall. I feel like I could be really happy there, both professionally and personally.

And my heart... my heart is in Romania. Part of me will be left here, in the eyes of my students and the juxtaposition of concrete and green spaces and the warmth of an entire nation.

I booked a plane ticket back to the States yesterday, and it feels final. It feels... real. I have an end date for this chapter of my life, and it's bittersweet. I'll leave this city on the evening of June 18th and arrive in Chicago on the afternoon of June 19th, more than 24 hour later. I'm worried about a lot of things, many of which I'm sure I'll blog about... but not feeling like I belong anywhere is currently at the forefront of my mind.

Monday, April 4, 2011

Sighişoara

It's a cool city, a beautiful city, an OLD city. It was an absolutely wonderful and relaxing weekend. Let's take it step by step...

I got to the hostel after a rather interesting train ride. 5:00 is early, and 6:00 on a train isn't too much better. I was able to sleep for about 3 hours or so. However, it was super hot, so I actually took a shower and nap for about 2 hours before heading back out again. The hostel was nice, located in the citadel itself, really accessible and friendly. What they DON'T tell you is that there are about 3 total ways to get into this citadel... located on a hill... and you might climb nearly 200 stairs to find that you can't actually get in. And then you might do that again. So the third time you do it, you are REALLY hoping that there is an actual gate there, and really wishing you hadn't actually packed a thing because you've carried it up nearly 600 stairs at this point. Combined with the train ride...

I met a really funny guy on the train, until he turned weird. We chatted for a long time in broken English (his, not mine ;) about Romania and stuff, and he asked me who punished me and made me teach here. It got weird when he talked about how Romania is "picante" (spicy) and how he likes some spicy food, but the thing he really likes to be spicy is sex. "Ummm... no, thank you, I have somewhere to stay. No really, I have a reservation. Yeah, it's in the citadel. No, I don't think I should tell you the name of the place."Anyway...

The rest of the weekend was filled with wandering and picture taking and reading at cafes and enjoying the sun and feeling like I was in a fairytale.

My final misaventure occured while leaving the city. On my way to the train station I stumbled a bit and skinned my knee, while carrying all of my things of course. It was an absolutely beautiful day and I was sad to be leaving... so I did what I sometimes do. I talked to myself.

So standing at a crossroads with a bloody knee and a backpack on my back and a daypack on my front and a canvas tote bag, I started speaking. "I don't want to leave. I don't want to get on this train and leave this place. I don't want the week to start. I want to stay here forever. You can't make me leave. You can't make me. You can't make me leave."

Well, I thought I was alone... until the man behind me cleared his throat. The...um... gorgeous man (as most Romanian men are)... just staring open-mouthed at me. I give a half-smile and a bit of a chuckle, and then he speaks. "Ma'am, would you like me to call you a doctor?"

Great. Not only did he hear me, he is one of the people in this city who speaks English. Really just... super.

What I was most struck by, however, was the juxtaposition of sensation I experienced. In one way, being in a place so incredibly old, with such a full and rich history, gives a feeling of inconsequence. How could I matter when I think about the thousands of people, across entire centuries, who touched that very stone I walked across? Their lives, just as full of joy and heartache, love and despair... and mine, clashing together in one place, at one moment. Who experienced what emotion in this church, at this corner, in this archway? I felt small and uninfluential.

And then the incredible connection hit me. I am small... but we all are. Because my emotions and experiences and opportunities aren't small to me, just in the grand scheme of the world. And maybe... all of our inconsequential emotions and little experiences and tiny opportunities are actually what allow us to be... people. And then to somehow make an impression on the face of this very old and very connected world.

It was a GREAT weekend :)

Friday, April 1, 2011

Social Problems- 6A

In order to avoid bragging like crazy all over this class of students, I'll just let you read their work. They were asked to write a composition about a social problem in Romania. These are 5 of the best compositions from the class, but it was extremely difficult to choose.

Pollution
By Boldeiu Costin
One of the biggest problems in Romania is pollution. Pollution hurts out health and it could kill people or animals. But this big problem didn’t appear because that’s what it wants, people created it. Every day, people drive cars, which eliminate toxic smoke. Another reason that our country is polluted are factories. They pollute the air and destroy the nature, too. The Nature is destroyed by people too, because they cut the trees. By cutting trees, we kill the nature and the oxygen disappears. All is green means life. We can’t stay and watch on the window how pollution destroys the nature. We must stop the activities which pollute the air and start doing some things to help the nature, like recycling. We must give the people some ideas about how pollution hurts our life by doing some projects and activities. All the people should start to protect the nature by going to work or to school without a car or to recycle all we can. We should give people some posters and informations about what means the nature for us. All the people should protect the nature and destroy the pollution, because they save their lifes, they protect their health or they can save other people.

Deforestation
By Pîslan Maria-Fabiola
Every country has problems. And deforestation is very popular. But, in Romania, this is something very alarming. Unfortunately, the people who can do something are too blind and too deaf about this problem. Deforestation is a very big and important problem. It contains a lot of other small, but very important problems These are some of them: The industry of wood building. This industry is crazy! From doors and bed to houses, they are all using wood. Solution: finding other materials to build with. If we really want to do something, then we have to think twice about buying objects made of wood. Annually everywhere in out country are very bad ground slides. I can’t say if people are dying because of ground slides, but their houses are. One solution is planting new trees in the zones there are no trees. But a tree is growing very slowly. Too slowly for this problem! But why do this people cut the trees? The majority ground slides are in the country sides. People need wood for cooking, heating and other things. So, we have to think about problem number 3. Too much systems are using wood. Here we are talking about heating systems. Solution: improving them, and making them to use fewer wood. They should use different materials. But what materials? For a person from the country side, a better system means more absent money. So this is a good solution, but only for people from cities. What about the others? Well, they have to plant as much trees as it’s possible. They have to hope, to wait, and to have faith in the God. Deforestation is a very big problem. Unfortunately, just about 25% depends of us. The rest of 75% depends of… other people. What exactly can we do: planting trees, recycling, take care of our green gold.

The Dark Side of Romania’s Environment and Health
By Roşca Anca
Romania is a country where problems reign. The worst is that people do not care about the fact that they breathe smog and toxic gases and they live in crowded towns and cities. They don’t care of epidemics and the fact that only if you’re famous you get good care. They have no interest in keeping their country as it should be: no crowded hospitals, accessible treatments, more green spaces, more protected areas, more rural space. If this is the dark side of Romania, why can’t they turn it into a lige side? They have no interest. They care only of money, and reigning in a country who, they think, should recognize them as kings and queens. There are solutions but they tell us they have no money to apply them, they have money for: malls, fountains and other things and no money for the life of the people. If they would promote bikes, camping, walking, if we would encourage ecotourism, if we would be stricter in rules regarding landfills, if people would care more about their health, if they would vaccinate, if the doctors would have more interest in respecting the medical ethics, if there would be more rooms in hospitals, it would all be better. If we would provoke people care more, then they might care more.

Crime
By Nicolae Teodora
Problem: Crime 1. Violent Films 2. Mental Conditions 3. The Irresponsible Parents This is a really big problem, related to the main problem, which is “Crime.” The good quality of films is disappearing. The classics “Casablanca,” “Roman Holiday,” “My Fair Lady,” and “Quo Vadis” were replaced with some violent films, with blood, murders, wars and killed people. The music we are listening and the films we are watching are influencing us. Fifty-sixty years ago there were really good movies, and people were civilized. Nowdays, people are robbing banks, are hurting other people. Those things were not happening sixty years ago. Like that saying, “You are what you eat.” I heard that once, three teenagers watched a violent film and took it as an example. They managed to find some guns and killed almost everyone from their high school! I think it really is terrible! Also, some teenagers watched “Avatar” (a film which I, personally, find disappointing) and realized that a world like Pandora doesn’t exist and our planet would never be like it. So they thought that the only solution was to suicide! Those fatalistic films, like, for example “2012” are just having a negative influence on everyone who watches them, but most of all, on minors. Even if there is an age limit, children still look at those kind of films. I think parents should really take care of them, show them, teach them to love beauty and disapprove of violence. When they would grow up, they would think that what they saw in films is real and also legal, but this could be easily avoided. Once, I watched a film, a documentary. The main character girl was sick of schizophrenia, a mental disease. She heard in her head some voices which told her what to do. They were telling her to harm the people who loved her and hurt herself. She was listening to them. The thing is that if the parents of the girl would have taken her to a hospital when she was little, the problem would be solved. But the parents decided to ignore the girl’s problem. The film is inspired from a real case. So, I think that parents should be aware that there is no shame to take their children to a hospital for their mental problems.

Pollution
By Rusu Carina
This is a big problem because many people don’t care about the nature and they don’t even think how it will become in a couple of years. We won’t have fresh air to breathe because of the plants that will die. Solution: We should learn people, especially children and young about how to protect the environment when they are in school. There are so many ways to stop pollution: from planting trees to taking the rubbish from the street. These are good ways to solve this problem. Even if they see a dust bin on the street, they don’t throw their rubbish there because they don’t think at all and they are having run breaking the rules. Solution: The bad people who throw rubbish on the street should pay some money to the police because this thing may stop their stupidness and they should be normal and throw their things that are no longer useful at the dustbin. They also don’t realize that many plants are going to die because they don’t want to take care of them and to plant more. So the oxygen can be fresh and good to breathe. Solution: we should learn how to plant trees and plants in every park, garden, or school’s garden and take care of them by watering it and clean it every day. Everyone can do this. Parents can help their kids to make a better environment for everyone because if this world will be totally polluted the people will die with the plants and animals, too. So we have to protect what God gave us!