Three, yes three, posts in one!

When one sits down to write about Romania one feels forced by some unknown entity to open said writing with a discussion of the duality that is Romania. Most writers start with a humorous observation about city streets being clogged with both modern day vehicles and dilapidated carriages being pulled by what passes as a horse, others might point to the architectural beauty present in parts of Romania that has been all but obliterated in Romania’s capital – Bucharest. I’m tempted to make some comparison between the rich and the poor. Those with plumbing to those without. I’m tempted to make some witty remark comparing other’s air conditioning with my sweat rag, to point out that Romania is a divided country. There are the uber rich and the barely making ends meet.

The Romania that I’ve had the opportunity to experience is not the Romania of the rich, nor is it the Romania of the middle class. The Romania I’ve had the opportunity to experience is the Romania of the poor. The Romania that can’t afford to shop in the only stores available. The Romania that lives off of the land and the government, neither of which provide an awful lot.

I will be more positive this trip, I will take what happens and live with it was my mantra during our 8 hour flight from Atlanta to Amsterdam. And it was easy to live by this mantra during that flight. Our flight was half empty. When the fasten seat belt sign turned off we jumped out of our seats to better seats and had three seats to ourselves with no one sitting in front of us. We had a plethora of movies to choose from. I watched three – Run Fatboy Run (good), 21 (OK), Jumpers (Terrible) – and the time passed by quickly.

One good thing about living in Atlanta is that the flight to Europe is much shorter than when we lived on the West Coast. An 8-hour flight is much preferable to the 12-hour flight from the West Coast.

Amsterdam has a great airport, complete with a pleasant woman’s voice reminding those on the movators to “mind your step”. It is flush with shops that Swell can’t help but browse. She very rarely buys anything because of the expense but likes to look.

Our layover was relatively short giving us just enough time to visit the shops and head toward our gate. The airport in Amsterdam requires all visitors to go back through security prior to boarding their plane. Our security check was right at the gate. You pass through the security screening complete with X-Ray and very frisky security agents prior to entering the boarding area. Following the security screening there are a bunch of chairs where you wait until called to show your boarding pass and passport. After that there is another set of chairs to wait to actually be allowed to board the plane.

Swell and I were in no hurry to enter the seating area so while others went through the security screening we just waited off to the side. Our plan was to hop onto the end of the line and be among the last into the boarding area.

While waiting we noted that we were obviously in the right area as the duality of Romania made itself apparent yet again. In line were the conservative looking older women with their mismatched skirts and tops also wearing head scarves along side young Romania woman wearing high heels, short shorts and barely there tops.

We waited and waited and the line only got longer. People were going through security but more people were being added to the queue. It was going to be a full flight. While people on the other side of security began to board the plane we still waited. Eventually the line neared the end and we joined in.

We made it through security and headed right onto the plane after surrendering our carry-on bags due to size issues (there wasn’t really a size issue there was just no room on the plane).

We thought we scored good seats when we saw that row 15 was the exit row. Extra legroom!

As is our standard custom Swell sat next to the window and I sat in middle.

Next to a Romanian guy about our age.

“I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

It goes without saying that this guy stunk. He is, after all, Romanian and like many Europeans Romanians have no concept of body odour.

What warrants discussion is his concept of personal space. We’ll call it a discussion of his concept of personal space because if not his concept of personal space the discussion will take a far cruder turn to his concept of the size of his junk.

Why must someone have their legs spread so far apart that his foot is not only under the seat in front of me but is under the middle of the seat in front of me? Further to his lower body taking up more space than I had to give his elbow decided that resting on me was more comfortable than resting either on his side of the arm rest or even on the arm rest period.

It was going to be a long 2.5 hours to Bucharest.

I hate being touched. There is very little in life that bothers me more than someone touching me. If you’re a hugger you need to realize that not all share your affinity for a good squeeze. Some, like me, would rather face down a pack of rabid Romanian dogs than put my arms around you. Pat my back? Prepare for a shudder and my running to the closest vat of lye.

Getta for the love of God quit patting me on the arm and leg.

“I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

We eventually landed. I survived but was peeved the entire time as Romanian’s apparently don’t comprehend the international language of stink eye.

We went through passport control where we were barely acknowledged let alone questioned.

We picked up our three checked bags and our two carry-ons and were happy to see that all five bags made it no worse for wear.

We headed out into Romania.

“I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

From the second we stepped into the arrivals area we were bombarded by illegal taxi drivers whispering “Taxi?”. “Taxi?”.

Swell and I decided long ago that we would not reward these guys. We would take a taxi from the taxi line. As we stepped toward the taxi line we were again bombarded by people trying to steal us away from the taxis waiting for passengers.

These illegal fellows park in the parking lot find passengers and then walk them to their cab in the parking lot.

Illegal taxis while a problem around the world are usually dealt with by airport security. Not in Romania.

We decided that the taxis in the taxi line were far too expensive (charging twice the km rate we were expecting) so we headed to departures to catch a cab dropping someone off.

That worked and we were soon on our way to Panty Lemons.

Traffic was bad and we narrowly avoided multiple accidents. It was stinking hot and the driver smoked.

“I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

We found both of Swell’s grandparents at home in Panty Lemons and they were happy to see us Swell.

They had made us a nice dinner that we enjoyed.

The next day (Friday) found us getting supplies and we are now in the country enjoying the wretched heat (35 celsius), the flies, and an uncomfortable bed.

It’s difficult for me to “be more positive, and take what happens and live with it” when I am in the amount of pain that I am in. Between the flights, two nights on “beds” rather than a real bed, and a bad back to begin with I can barely move. It will take a few days to hopefully recover or it will be a horrific five weeks.

C’est la vie no? We haven’t experienced much this trip yet. Just family.

The house in Panty Lemons received a fresh coat of paint when Swell’s folks were here. A nice shelving unit was also purchased for the living room of the house. Many familiar objects made the trip from Washington to Romania. Some surprising.

After many years its starting to look like a nice house. The family, however, still doesn’t live in it. Which is fine. They still live here in the country.

Where, apparently, a large portion of the produce they grow is used to make various forms of alcohol. Grapes for wine, apples, sour cherries and apricots for moonshine. A distillery of sorts.

You need something to get you through the cold harsh winters I suppose.

We’ve been here for 48 hours with many days to go.

We’ll see how I do with my mantra “I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

I don’t expect much.

Post 2


It has been 24 hours since the preceding was written. You haven’t read it yet because I haven’t had Internet access yet.

What a night.

A night that only Romania can create.

It was, of course, sweltering. Swell and I have sleeping sacks given to us by my parents. Basically sleeping bag liners. The thickness of a regular sheet. I’ve been sleeping on top of mine.

Far too hot inside.

Because it is hot all doors and windows are left open. Because all doors and windows are left open there are flies everywhere. On the food, on your person, in your ear, everywhere.

Flies.

Some old guy died here in town.

The bell doth toll for him. Remember a couple of years ago a young girl died and they rang the bell every fifteen minutes?

Bell redux.

Anyway the night.

Butl before the night, the day. I’ve been keeping busy by alternating sitting and staring at people as they try mightily to talk to me forgetting completely that I understand maybe 1 in 15 words, and entertaining myself with a book, my IPod and movies on my PSP.

I’m fine with these things.

Swell has been visiting and is very happy that her Grandpa has remained sober the entire time she has been here. She has actually had real conversations with all the members of her family something that hadn’t happened in a couple of years.

She also learned about Romanian medicine from the guy across the street. He has a hernia. He is waiting for surgery.

Waiting for a surgeon? No.
Waiting for an operating room? No.
Waiting for parts? No.

He is, in fact, waiting for a month with an R in it.

No lie. The surgeon states that the surgery can only be done during in a month that has an R in it.

Too hot otherwise.

Romania – love it or leave it (it has a negative population growth by the way).

Well after our busy day of visiting, reading, watching, and walking it was time for bed.

No sooner than when I close my eyes it started. Flies? Of course, but worse than that music.

Loud, loud music.

It was like someone set up a bandstand on the street in front of the house and was having a party.

I cannot relay to you properly how loud this was.

And it wouldn’t stop.

An uncomfortable bed, flies and this music all added up to a long sleepless night.

Eventually Swell woke up and said, “What’s that?”

I was amazed that she hadn’t heard it the past 2 hours and I envied her two hours of sleep.

We got up to investigate but saw nothing. The music was coming from beyond some trees. Swell figures it was from the local pub. After visiting the outhouse (Fun!) it was back to bed. At least this time I had Swell to continually yell in my ear “What is up with this music! This is so annoying. I hate these flies. It’s so hot. I hate this.”

To which I replied, with great wit, “Have you been here before?”

A couple more hours of music and then…

silence…

and then…

drunkards going home while being annoyingly drunk.

The music over, the shouting was to begin.

God bless the USA

America!

Romanian words that I didn’t understand but I’m sure translate to “I’m a big tool.”

Right outside our window. I’m assuming that because the town is so small they knew we were there and were being clever.

In reality it was beyond annoying.

That only last 10 minutes or so and then the drunkards were stumbling toward their homes.

Peace at last. Sleep was finally found although the uncomfortable bed, the oppressive heat and the flies remained.

The plan for today, Sunday, was simply to come home. It costs a small fortune to take a taxi out to the country but a taxi is required, as all that is to be consumed during the visit must be brought in. Water, food, etc. We could take the bus home, however, as any leftover food is left behind for a quickly drunk Grandpa.

To catch a bus in rural Romania, or at least to catch a bus with the Copoiu family, requires months of planning, hours of worry and minutes of sheer terror.

Grandpa was sent out to the porch at 1:00 pm to watch the bus passing by the house (which would return the other direction a couple of hours later) to make sure it was the big bus rather than the small van sized bus. When the bus passed and it proved to be the big bus he was sent to ask people on the street if the big bus was, in fact, the bus for us. When he returned indicating that the bus that passed was the big bus and it was the bus for us he was ordered to sit on the porch and watch for the second bus to insure that the second bus was NOT the bus for us. When that bus drove by and it wasn’t for us he was then ordered to stand at the fence to watch for our bus to come back in the other direction to warn us to come and catch us even though it wasn’t due for quite some time and doesn’t run early.

Eventually we were all gathered and ready to go. We walked to the bus stop and waited with every family member but Swell and I taking turns to wander to the middle of the street wring their hands and worry about the bus although it wasn’t due yet. And doesn’t run early.


The bus, by some miracle, did arrive (on time) and we were off on our two hour winding, hot bus ride back to Pantelimon.

And here we are.

Joy.

Errr… “I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

Post 3

“I will be more positive, I will take what happens and live with it.”

I woke up today and was happy to note I was sleeping in a sauna. The window somehow closed itself during the night creating a very nice sauna like atmosphere in the bedroom. Good for my health! A nice sweat to get the toxins out.

Walking into the bathroom to get ready for the day I was shocked awake by an olfactory assault. Mold, mildew, swamp gas all teamed up to kick me into gear. I was awake now – and raring to go!

I finished brushing my teeth and walked out to hear Swell explain to her wonderful Aunt that the red shoes were slippers for the house not shoes for going out with. It softened my heart to walk out to such a familiar conversation. Familiarity brings about warmth and this was the 100th time this exact conversation had occurred in the last 12 hours.

It was time to walk to the maxi-taxi to go to the mall with Getta and Swell’s G-Ma. It was great to feel the sun doing what the sun does – warming the earth. It was doing a great job. It was only 9 in the morning and already about 30 degrees. It will be 40 by this afternoon. Good job sun!

Oh. What an invigorating walk! The sights and sounds of Pantelimon were alive today. A wonderful aroma of garbage, sewage, death, body odour and smoke wafted around us as we walked along the sidewalk/parking lot. We saw plenty of wildlife. Dogs and cats. Some of them were even alive! The dead ones are loved to this day I am sure.

As we approached the maxi-taxi “stop” we noted that we just missed it. More time to enjoy the pleasant day!

It was wonderful to listen to those waiting for the maxi-taxi. Such great patience. They are good waiters. They didn’t complain about waiting for two whole minutes! After three minutes it was suggested we catch a different maxi-taxi going in the completely wrong direction. Such ingenuity, but we decided against taking that maxi-taxi.

With the arrival of the maxi-taxi I became very excited to note that I would be sharing this ride with many of my brothers and sisters. It would be a party – all of humanity coming together to ride the taxi of the maxi.

It was a party. I had the distinct pleasure to be groped by 20 of my taxi mates over the first 15 minutes of the ride. I was groped by skinny Romanians, fat Romanians, fatter Romanians, tall Romanians, short Romanians, female Romanians and most importantly male Romanians. My only concern? Was it a sin to enjoy the groping so much?

And now we’re here at the mall. Shopping. For nothing. Just browsing. The fun just doesn’t end. It only gets better. Because I carried the computer – to entertain and inform you – I get to carry a woman’s computer bag around.

Oh! and I’m constantly reminded of the wonder of God’s creation with every step.

My back. Oh my aching back.

Yippee Skippy!