Here’s a sprinkling of the (non-food) posts!
(They are listed from oldest to newest, with location of post in CAPS and a semi-random one-sentence quote from the post in italics!)
For food posts go here.
IN LOS ANGELES
Today: Looked on Craig’s List for Romanian teachers. Closest thing was a Romanian man looking specifically for a female roommate. REJECTED, CRAIGSLIST.
As the years went on, their story morphed: my parents became “time-traveling pirates.”
A Poem About Home (A TCK perspective on moving)
I have stolen, secreted away, hidden, begged for, received, scraps of my Home
Kept the blueprints in my mind.
I unroll them in any situation.
How to Befriend Stray Dogs? (Tips about living life in Romania I wish I didn’t need)
Although a mere kennel makes me nervous… I’m moving to a country that has (millions of) what can only be described as packs.
(About using Pinterest in Romanian) There’s no Rosetta Stone for Romanian, so it’s like you’re making your own.
I’m always impressed by the persevering love of the Duțas – despite setbacks and disappointments, they keep believing in the kids and pushing them to overcome their circumstances.
There wasn’t much I could do besides hold her hand and look at her with the most affirming eyes I could muster, because what can you do when you find out that the precious girl that you dropped off at Sunday School this morning was sold?
Beauty Inside Bucharest (Photos)
This includes a beautiful patch of nature with a “Village Museum:” a tribute to
hobbitsthe old way of life in Romania.
“Officially, No.” he said.
“Unofficially?” I countered.
“Only if you pay me…what is the word”
If you’re considering applying for an ETA in a country that you have peripheral ties to, this might be a story for you.
When the original Numa numa video came out, I didn’t even know it was in Romanian.
Senia: “How do you feel about giving an interview to a local news station?”
Me: “Dressed as an elf?”
Many moments in the last few months have caused me to reflect on how badly humans treat each other based simply on appearances, not only here in Romania, but elsewhere in the “modern and globalized world.
It’s the little things in life: goats, rocks.
The boys have a new litter of puppies and a kitten that are being trained to tolerate copious amounts of semi-abusive affection and attention.
There is a time for everything, and a season for everything under heaven.
I have realized that I have a Black Beauty complex (…I made that term up, it means that I’m afraid of hurting horses and unwilling to assume leadership).
This weekend, on the train from Brașov to Bucharest, a pleasant, portly man told me a story about the Romanian revolution while eating his sandwich.
I know that reaction isn’t normal, but bear with me.
Once you’re free falling, you’ll find your parachute. Pray and jump.
It features dancing “bears,” carols (colinde), orthodox priests blessing the halls of the communist-style blocs through song, and folks dancing at Bucharest’s Christmas market.
TRAVELING TO LA
Time back in Los Angeles for Christmas was surreal.
BACK IN CONSTANȚA
Later on, my friend Flory asked me, “Why would you google how to poison yourself with mussels?”
I’m not saying that there aren’t a lot of grumpy shop keepers in Romania.
Let semantics go, be nice to people, and enjoy your life!
At no point during the long hours of sifting through essays did I regret giving students the option to “draw something that they learned in the class.”
“We were born in the same hospital; I could have gotten stuck with that syringe.”
“The public’s condemnation of this basic failure to consume is unforgiving.”
Wives are friends, not property, Amin.
IN BUCHAREST FOR ROUND 2
We mostly got away with this guerilla-style good deeding because we gave the nurses flowers too
One of the teens asks me, “What they say for this, ‘Orphanage?’”
“I don’t like that word. “Cum se spune…mai bine?”
“Mai bine e ‘better.’ What word do you think would be ‘better’?”
And thus it begins, a seemingly innocuous conversation that is totally stilted, lifted straight from the pages of a yellowing ESL book written in the 80′s, in words that can be translated more-or-less straight into Romanian…a conversation I would never have, even in my head in the States.
The following is a pictorial chronicle of a joyful sprint through Hungary, Poland, and Slovakia last week, as winter melted away all over Eastern Europe.