Fate

Do you believe in fate?

Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't.

I think it was fate the way I met my first boyfriend. I'm wondering if it's fate the way I met Srdjan.

If I hadn't left Bulgaria early, I wouldn't have met him.
If Rob didn't have to leave as soon as he met me at the station, I wouldn't have met him.
The taxi driver brought me to that one Internet cafe.
If the taxi driver hadn't ripped me off, I wouldn't have had reason to complain to the cafe's manager.

Of course, I'm probably getting way ahead of myself here. I'm just excited because he sent me an email with pictures of monasteries that we can visit.

Rant

You know when I said I wasn't unhappy?

I lied.

Ok that's not the whole truth.

I'm not unhappy but it's definitely getting to the lonely phase. Since I was gone last week, I didn't know that my bills were due, and my cable's been cut.

Good thing I have a laptop and a sizeable DiVX collection.

I don't want to spend my time here always wishing for the future.

Bulgaria in September.

Serbia in October.

Italy in November.

Turkey in December.

France, Portugal, Sweden and Denmark next year.

I need to meet people.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: I'm so envious of the four interns in Belgrade and the two interns in Dhaka.

When I was in Belgrade, I had an instant circle of Canadian, Australian and American friends. The only other anglophones I met here were prissy bible boys.

I don't feel like an expat. I feel like a Romanian. And normal Romanians do normal things. It's so much easier to meet people when you at least speak the same language. I try my best in Romanian (no small feat) and usually get answers back in English. I suppose that doesn't piss me off as much here as in France because I speak fluent French and people still would answer me in English.

I know a certain someone reads this, and although I'll never admit it to you, I'm glad I learned some of your "bruta lingua". I'm getting a lot further along in Italian here than I ever would have thought.

Reminds me of my first night when I wandered aimlessly around my neighbourhood at midnight searching for a phone booth.

"English?"
"nu"
"Francais?"
"nu"
"Espagnol?" (Although now, my Spanish is so rusty that it's reduced to swear words and insults)
"nu"
"Italiano?"
"si"

I also had to use Italian when asking an old man why there were oil fires burning in the ditches close to my apartment.

It's hard to write what I want to say and not sound like a pathetic whiner. I've been using the word "pathetic" a lot lately to describe myself.

At least I'm actually doing work again. Funny how I came all the way to Romania to do exactly what I was doing back home: HTML. I enjoy it though, the mindlessness of it all.

It's not like I would be doing anything different back in Canada. I feel like I should be doing new and exotic things while I'm here. I can drink tea anywhere. Consuming it in Romania doesn't make it anymore exotic or special.

In France, I had a whole residence-full of people to meet. French, Moroccans, Germans and a very special someone all became close friends. Here, my only contact with the locals are my neighbours who think that speaking Romanian louder and faster is the key to my comprehension.

I'm going to my neighbour's village this weekend. He speaks about 50 words of English and loves Pink Floyd and Robert DeNiro. Should make for an interesting weekend.

TMBASE

I didn't know what Bodgan was referring to. So I asked my coworker and it turns out TMBASE is a huge techno/electroclash party held in Timisoara every year.

October 14-16. I will be there.

And so will The Hacker. Too bad Miss Kittin won't be though.

Home

It's strange how at home I feel in Romania. While in Sweden and in France, I always felt distinctly foreign.

At my school in Sweden, I was the only brunette in a sea of blonds. In France, I didn't have the elegance that French girls possess.

Here, I feel at home. I don't look Romanian, yet I don't look that foreign. Everyone tells me I look Russian and many people here have a distinctly Slavic appearance.

I can walk down the street and no one gives me a second glance. Well, they did this morning but that's probably because I'm wearing the first long skirt they've ever seen on a girl under the age of 25.

I feel comfortable here. The fears that I had have long gone. Even the sight of two street kids with glue breaking into a building didn't phase me.

I'm shocked that I don't have the crushing depression that I had in the other countries where I've lived. During an intercultural seminar earlier this year, we learned that adjusting comes through several phases:

a) everything is great, everything is new, life is good
b) you get frustrated by everything
c) you can't communicate, you wish everything was like at home
d) you meet people, start to learn the language, start appreciating the culture for what it is
e) you develop a daily routine
f) you feel comfortable in the society

Or something like that.

I arrived in Sweden in August. By October, I hated it. I hated my family, my school and the society (living in a tiny racist village in the middle of nowhere doesn't help much either). It took me until I moved to Helsingborg to start loving Sweden for what it is.

France was no different. Even though I was there with some university students, I still felt isolated and alone. I had no appetite and I dreaded the school year. Luckily, I made tonnes of friends in my residence and by the end of the year, I didn't want to leave.

Here, everything is natural. Maybe it's because I'm living on my own and I can control what goes on around me, but I haven't been unhappy since I got here (knock on wood). They say you can accept things more easily when you're younger, and I know I wouldn't put up with what I went through in Sweden now. However, I'm not phased by the language barriers, by the crazy drivers or the wild dogs. It's still an adventure here.

Or maybe I'm just growing up.

Language barriers

I still have a hard time shopping for food. Most of the food comes from Romania, Hungary or Russia. If I can't recognise the pictures or the brand name, I don't buy it. I spent 30 minutes last night trying to find Bulgar Wheat, with no success.

Then I realised how many things are written in English. Only English. Many brand name items are written only in English. The candy section is full of American chocolate bars with English writing. Most beauty supplies are written in French or German, with a few Polish versions thrown in for good measure.

It's normal for me as a foreigner to not understand everything written, but I can't imagine how it would be for someone in Romania. Back home, all of the foreign foods had at least a passable English translation. Oriental supermarkets just seemed quaint.

I've always had a deep distrust of non-English food. Maybe it goes back to the Dollar Store, which imports cheap foods from Turkey and Lebanon. The cookies with the Arabic writing looked cool but there was no way I was actually going to eat them.

But yeah, back to the point I was trying to make: How do people go shopping when they can't even understand the language?

Phone cards

I needed a phone card. Romania has two types: the kind with a microchip and the kind with a code. I desperately needed to call my mother and the code cards don't work with public phones. Which sort of defeats the purpose of a phone card, I guess.

The woman showed me two cards: a 100,000 lei card and a 150,000 lei card. I decided on the 100,000 lei card and gave her a 100,000 lei bill. She looks at it and then calls her husband over for some reason. I start thinking that maybe the card was 1,000,000 and not 100,000 (which is impossible). Then I realise that I should really buy the 150,000 lei card instead.

So I pull out a 50,000 lei bill (I told you I'm rich in Romania!) and indicate that I want the other card instead. A customer came over and tried to explain the Romanian money system.

I wanted to scream. I'm not stupid. I've lived here for over a month. I gave the correct amount the first fricken time around. I did not need some teenager counting out zeros for me. "Look: one zero zero, zero zero zero". I told them I hated Romanian money (I do. I have four country currencies in my wallet right now and I can't keep track of anything), grabbed my card and left.

Incidentally, I was able to call my mom and everything is set. I'm going to La Cita Eterna on November 5th (flying into Ancona and 3 hour train ride). We have 10 glorious days together to see Pompeii and Florence, I get to visit a dear friend in Rome and then I come back to Romania.

Withdrawl

Now I'm in withdrawl. I miss Nuno and Cem and Vlad and David and Francesca and everyone else. I slept alone last night for the first time in over a week. I woke up and there were no dried sausages, no grandmother's jelly from Macedonia, no tea, no warm rakia and no Yugoslavians.

I loved Bulgaria. Bulgarians are so warm and friendly. The hardest thing for me to understand was that nodding means 'no' and shaking your head means 'yes'.

When we went to the disco, the DJ played a song for a few seconds and then changed it. I politely asked him if he could play it again. He shook his head. "What a jerk!" I thought.

Then he played the song.

Bulgarian music is fantastic. We were constantly listening to this CD called "Bikini Heat". I can't find anything about it online but it's full of Bulgarian techno. I must find a copy in Romania.

I don't miss the Turkish toilets though. We had normal toilets in our room and the "other" kind in the halls. I do NOT recomment using a Turkish toilet:
a) when you're wearing pants
b) when you've had too much wine
c) when you're female
d) ever

Having grown up with normal, North American-style facilities, I'm not used to things like squatting or aiming. This was doubly apparent when I saw the toilets on the Timisoara-Belgrade train. They were black and red with rust. No toilet paper. I almost started to cry. Seriously, they were the grossest toilets I have ever seen. For the first time in my life, I wished I was a guy.

And I miss Momir.
He was trying to describe the situation in the former Yugoslavia ten years ago.

"How do you say...how do you say...how do you say... (a minute later) ...how do you say....DEEP SHIT!"

It became our running joke during the week.

Home

I'm home. I found an Internet cafe on my street (how convenient).

At the Belgrade Internet cafe, I paid and asked how much a taxi should have cost. One of the clerk's friend's spoke perfect English and was outraged at how much I paid. He offered to personally take me to the station. Since I had almost an hour and a half until my train, I offered to go out for coffee instead. He agreed.

We went to this nice little cafe. We have tonnes in common. He's studying Political Science with a concentration in Balkan Sudies at Yale but is taking the year off. He's a Serbian Croat and came to Belgrade during the war. I told him about going to Croatia to visit Porec last year and he told me the only reason he went there was to see the Basilica. Which was the only reason I went there. He's also a medieval affictionado.

He asked when I would be in Serbia next. He gave me a list of places to see, then offered to go with me. Seeing as I still have 2 days left on my FlexiPass, we're going to keep in contact and maybe do a bit of travelling together. We both love stupid teen movies, American Eagle and the Simpsons. This could be the start of a nice friendship.

On the train back, I was harassed by border guards, had my cabin checked for drugs, yelled at for not understanding how to completely fill in my border form and then accused of not filling in my ticket properly. I knew perfectly well what the ticket controller wanted but I was pissed off and tired so I just pretended to not know a thing he was talking about. He laughed, gave up and then left me alone.

More stats

Ok, time for more ways people have reached this blog.

Google search terms:
a) Marinescu and testicles
b) "vino langa mine, stiu ca vrei"
c) romania and testicles and wife
d) romania and testicles
e) internship in Romania

I'm amused.

Belgrade

I've just spent the past six hours in a Belgrade Internet cafe, updating the blog and chatting on IRC.

Rob met me at the train station. I still feel horrible about what happened.

He had meetings on Wednesday that he changed to Monday in order to get me at the station as I was supposed to arrive Wednesday.

Since I didn't hear anything from him last night when we messaged him with the new travel plans, I assumed either the situation was fine or he just wouldn't show up.

He was there at 5:30 am to give me my money. He told me he had to run back to his apartment to sleep so I was on my own in Belgrade.

I felt horrible.

It's dark and rainy. I had no idea what to do as I have all my luggage with me.

So I did what any normal traveller would do. I got some delicious burec and then got a taxi to an internet cafe. The driver ripped me off. I called him on it and he denied it but I was so tired that I just didn't care.

I just did the currency exchange and I paid him $17.00 for a 10 minute taxi drive. I *knew* it.

So it's 12:50 pm and I've been here since 6:00 am.

It's still raining and I have about 40 lbs of luggage with me so exploring the city is out of the question. My train leaves in less than three hours so I guess I'll stay here until it's time to go back home.

Another 5 hours and 31 minutes of train travel to go.

Sunday

Everyone had to leave early for their flights. We piled into two busses but made many pit stops in order to keep saying goodbye.

I feel so pathetic. I get so attached to people sometimes. I think it just comes back to being alone in Romania. I live alone, cook alone, eat alone and pretty much work alone. Am I lonely? Yes, a bit. Now that Delphine's gone, I don't know anyone and it's hard to make friends when school hasn't started yet.

Those of us who didn't have planes to catch met in Sofia for the day. The Serbs wanted typical Serbian food. We found a restaurant but they proclaimed it "too clean to be a Serbian restaurant". I had my heart set on burec but I was hungry and depressed and just wanted to eat. Iany asked me what I wanted and since the menu was written in Cyrillic, I answered "I don't know". "Well, I can't translate the whole menu for you" "I know, but could you at least read the categories so I know what kind of restaurant this is?" "Just tell me what you want to eat and I'll order it for you!" "But I can't even read the menu so I don't know what kind of food there is!" Eventually, I settled on some greek rice-grape leaves-yoghurt concoction with fries. It wasn't that good but it was food.

We saw a movie being filmed downtown. Apparently, many "European" movies are filmed in Sofia because it's cheap and looks European. This one was about some Russian revolution. I saw extras milling around holding signs with the president's face X'd out in red paint. Very interesting.

We also saw a church from the fifth century in the middle of the presidental palace courtyard. The old and the new, both of which were oppressing in their own ways. I found it strangely appropriate.

Afterwards, I met up with Rob L., a FAC intern in Sofia. We spent the afternoon together while I debated returning home with the Serbs. I weighed my options:
a) staying in Sofia for an extra day
b) returning with two absolutely hillarious guys who would make the 31 hour travel seem much shorter.

I decided that if I wanted to see Sofia, I should give it more than just a day. Rob also wanted to show me some monmasteries, so I thought that I should make a special trip just to see Bulgaria. Plus, I was feeling sad and I just wanted to get back home to my own bed.

I got Rob to message Belgrade Rob, who had all my money in order to see if he could meet me the next morning. An hour later and no answer, so I decided to go ahead with the travel. If he could meet me, great, but if not, oh well.

The trip to Belgrade was hillarious and not without incident. Our train was supposed to leave at 8:50 pm. At 7:30 pm, we went to a trendy cafe for drinks. At 8:10, I warned the others that we should start moving. At 8:20, I said that the train was leaving in 30 minutes. Everyone decided to leave at 8:30. We still had to find a taxi, get our luggage and buy water.

We arrived at the station at 8:40. Never have three people moved so fast. Petar joked that this was exactly like a teen movie with the protagonists running to catch their train. We couldn't find the baggage claim and were asking everyone. Luckily, Serbian is close enough to Bulgarian so Momir and Petar could make themselves understood. Finally, we saw the baggage symbol and ran like hell. Then with all our luggage, we had to find out quay.

We saw the trains but didn't know what side was ours. We asked everyone but no one was willing to help. A maintenance man showed us quay 3 but there were two trains there. Can't Eastern Europeans make anything easy? As soon as we stepped on, someone told us it was the wrong train. So we ran faster than we've ever run before to get on the other train. The whistle was blowing and we were so scared that we wouldn't make it. As soon as we hopped on, it pulled away. Out of breathe and exhilirated, we collapsed in a couchette.

The ticket controller heard us laughing and talking. I'm sure he was very upset at us, but I'm the dumb foreigner so what can he do? When he came by again, he ordered them back to their seats. They said that we met on the train and as I don't speak Serbian, they were helping me get settled in. He said they had to go back in five minutes. He came by a few minutes later so we made a big show about saying goodbye. He went back to his room and we continued to talk.

I wanted them to stay in my couchette with me but they already had seat reservations, they couldn't stay with me. Or so I thought. They told me they like to do things the illegal way and they hid on the top luggage racks. Then Momir found a small space above the door and crawled up there.

So we hung out for another two hours until we almost got to the border when they had to go back to their seats. They promised to come back after we crossed the border but ten minutes later, I was fast asleep.

Luckily, they weren't in the couchette when the border guards came. They inspected every inch of the cabine with a flashlight. I don't want to think about what could have happened had they stayed with me.

Getting down before the ticket controler comes!

The EGP lives on!

Peter and Momir hiding in my couchette

Momir hiding in my couchette

The last of us in Sofia

A Communist-era monument that was turned into a skate park

View of the church

More FAC interns! Rob and I in front of the Sofia church

Someone told me Patrick Swayze is in this movie

On the set of a movie in Sofia

Group shot

Momir, myself and Petar. The bottom sign is pointing to Sofia

Nuno, myself and Cem

Me and my very special Turkish friend Cem (Ankara in December!!!!!)

Saturday

Our last full day. I don't want to leave anyone. For a conference with only 20 people, it was likely that there would be at least one or two people with whom I wouldn't get along with. Au contraire. Everyone was wonderful and I look forward to keep in touch with as many people as I can.

The farewell party was sad. I'm going to miss everyone. Strange how you can be with people for only a week and make great connections. I'm especially looking forward to seeing Cem in Turkey, David in Paris, Vlad in Skopje and Nuno in Portugal. And visiting all the crazy Serbs and Macedonians.

There's so much I want to write here but I know the majority of the readers don't care about people who don't play a large role in my life. It was a great experience and I'm glad to have met everyone.

I took about 80 digital pictures and three rolls of film.

Friday

Friday was pretty uneventful. We did our activities and that was that. We had to talk about identity and what constitutes European citizenship. I talked about how European citizenship to me means about a shared common history. Canada is made up of so many nationalities and cultures and we have nothing old or historical (in my opinion). The others talked about how Europeans share the same goals and values.

We wanted to have a special Friday evening so we had a bonfire outside the lodge. It reminded me so much of home. All that was missing were marshmallows.

David and I spent most of the evening together. He's a wonderful singer and we sat singing French songs. The only one we both knew was Damian Saez's "Jeune et Con". I told him he should try out for Star Academy.

We went for a walk, still singing. We jokingly sang Gainsbourg's and Birkin's "Je t'aime (moi non plus)", overemphasising the lyrics. It's basically sex set to music. "Je t'aiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiime" "Moi non pluuuuuuuuuuuuuuus" "Oooooooooh, mon amouuuuuuuuuuuur" "Comme la vaaaaaaague, irresoluuuuuuuuuue".

Afterwards, everyone went to the disco. Francesca (the Italian representative) and I were the only females so we had fun dancing with everyone. They played partly normal dance music and partly Bulgarian dance music.

I like Bulgarian dance music. I really do. It's like Tatu with Bulgarian lyrics.

Vlad and I recreated our special Slavic ballet which was basically us acting like idiots on the dancefloor. Momir spun me around until I thought I would be sick. Peter and I danced to "In da Club". Nuno proved why Latin men are considered the best dancers.

Back at the lodge, it was Mafia for another two hours. I finally crawled into bed at 4:30 am.

Somehow this reminds me of monkeys grooming each other

Thursday

I woke up feeling quite well. I was sure I would be deadly hungover. I dressed and went downstairs. I just felt weak so I only had a tea.

The group was supposed to go on an all-day field trip to visit a village by the Greek border. As much as I would have liked to have gone, 3.5 hours of travelling there and 3.5 hours of travelling back just wasn't for me. And by then, I started felling quite sick again, so I opted to stay at the hotel.

Cem also decided to stay. I went to his room and slept in his roomate's bed. We slept, woke up, talked, slept, woke up, talked, slept, talked, slept, talked. We had so much fun! It was almost pleasurable to be sick because we got along so well! We both love the same music and the same countries. He's from Ankara and I can't wait to see him in December as he'll be at the same conference as me.

We went out for a walk in the mountains. It was a beautiful day but we were both still quite weak so we were only out for an hour.

When the others came home, we played Mafia. Mafia is possibly one of the stupidest but also one of the funniest games I have ever played.

You need about five or more people and a deck of cards. There must be one face card and the rest are ordinary numbered ones. Everyone chooses a card and keeps it secret. Whoever draws the face card is the assassin and it's their job to "kill" the other players. The citizens have to figure out who the Mafia is and assassinate them.

Anyone can start and can accuse anyone for any reason. "I accuse Pascal because he's French". And then Pascal has to defend himself. Everyone votes on whether to kill or spare the person. Majority rules. Some people got really into it. "Please don't kill me. I'm a poor mountain girl who was sold at an early age by my father to a slave trader for eight camels. Do you really want to add to my misery? For the love of God, spare my life!"

Very very fun indeed. I will definitely be bringing it back to Canada with me.

Wednesday

The former mayor from Kyustendil came to talk to the group. I'm sure he was very interesting but after listening to him talk through a translator for two hours, I lost interest. I felt bad that so many of the group decided to leave before he was done but I can understand their frustration.

We spent the afternoon and evening in Kyustendil. It's a lovely little town. While waiting for the second group to arrive in the bus, I started talking to Cem, a Turkish representative. We had both lived in Sweden and shared many of the same common complaints about the country. He's a super nice guy and I really enjoyed talking to him.

Most of the group wanted to go check their mail. For those of you who know me, you're aware that me without Internet is like Carrie Bradshaw without shoes. If I don't check my email every five minutes, I start to panic.

I walked right past the Internet Cafe. Only about five or six of us chose to eschew email, so we wandered downtown with our guide. Most of us wanted to be on our own so Nuno and I ditched the group and headed off to the local market. Very different than Timisoara's but still very Eastern. I laughed when I saw the bananas hanging from strings from the tents.

We did a bit of shopping. Correction. He did a bit of shopping. I didn't buy a thing there. Clothing in Bulgaria is very cheap and much nicer than in Romania.

We found the remains of some Roman baths. Kids were playing in the ruins. We also found a mosque and Turkish baths. We spent the afternoon wandering around the in the subhurbs. So much nicer than staying in the shopping district or at a bar.

We decided to try to find some traditional Romanian food. We found a few cafes but most only served alcohol. We finally found a place that served food but the menu was in Cyrillic (of course). We got an English menu but they didn't have the food we wanted. We settled on ice cream and it was quite good.

It was dark when we left and we realised we had no idea where we were. We remembered crossing a street so we tried to backtrack, all the while talking about Eastern European travel. He described Lithuania which only reaffirmed my desire to go there. He's also been to Russia but I think I'll avoid that for a little while longer.

It was a perfect day. Seriously. I'll always have fond memories of Kyustendil and I can say I discovered Bulgaria with a Portuguese. I came here for an intercultural experience and what could be more intercultural than Canada, Portugal and Bulgaria?

Luckily, our direction-sense was right and we arrived at the restaurant only 20 minutes late.

The food wasn't very good. I only picked at my plate. It's pretty bad when you mistake chicken for fish.

Unfortunately, I drank as much as I would had I eaten a big meal. I got...
Well, let's leave it at that.

Everyone was hugging and kissing and taking pictures. Vlad was walking around with a blue feathered tiara on. I love him!

Afterwards, we went to a disco. By then, the alcohol really hit. And just to reiterate, I did *not* drink that much. Only problem was that I had a near empty stomach so it it went right to my head.

I went downstairs, realised I could barely stand up and then came outside. The world starting spinning and Cem let me lean against him. I was there for about 20 minutes until I knew I was going to be sick. They got us a taxi and Nuno and I went home.

Ok, for two people who have obviously consumed way too much alcohol, the winding roads of Bulgaria are not a good idea. We were right in the middle of the mountains and you can't just drive straight up or straight down. It's a miracle we got home in one piece.

Boris, Vlad, myself, Nuno and Momir at the Kyustendil restaurant

I love Macedonians!

Crazy Macedonian

Kyustendil

Kyustendil street

I don't know if this means something special in Bulgarian

Nuno and I in Kyustendil

Momir and Vlad dancing to traditional Bulgarian music on the bus

On the bus to Kyustendil

Tuesday

It's hard remembering what happened a week later.

I don't care much for the group activities. We have to find something in nature that represents our hopes for the conference. Draw a tree that represents our experience in youth work. Stuff like that. Pointless.

We had the chance to take a sauna at a nearby resort. In the morning, most of the people were psyched but after dinner, only eight of us ended up going. Myself, Iany (a Bulgarian coordinator) and six Serbs, Macesonians and Romanians.

Luckily, this wasn't like a Turkish bath where everyone is naked. We didn't have towels but were able to use sheets. I forgot that sweating renders white sheets transparent but I didn't care. I just sat back and relaxed. Bulgarian saunas are hot! Much hotter than the Canadian ones I'm used to. After five minutes, I was completely drenched with sweat.

Afterwards, we went to the hotel's disco where they played traditional Bulgarian folk music. The Slavs all did their traditional dances and they showed me how to dance too.

Walking back was magical too. Very dark, very silent. We saw some horses in their pen but they looked more like dark shadows than actual animals. I imagined myself in a Harry Potter forest or on the set of Lord of the Rings. Clear, dark and misty.

Croatia might have a bit of competition as most beautiful country in my mind.

Monday

This conference seemes nothing like the Newtech one last month.

For starters, everyone (except me) is a youth worker or volunteers with a youth organisation. And this is shaping up to be more and more like summer camp.

Wake up, have breakfast, do a group activity, coffee break, talk about the group activity, eat lunch, free time, group discussion, more coffee, another group activity, free time, dinner, free time, party.

Except this summer camp has alcohol. Bulgaria is famous for Rakia, their version of tsuica (and just as powerful). It's served at every meal and while I will give it a customary sip, I don't like it.

One of the guys came down with a cold and was drinking warm Rakia during our sessions. Imagine drinking brandy, straight, during a Canadian conference!

We had an international night where we each brought and shared some food from our country. I brought a small bottle of maple syrup. I made sure to sample each of the wines several times.

The sky was beautiful. I have never seen a sky like that. No polution, high up in the air, no lights. I dragged Vlad out with me and we laid on the driveway and stared up at the Milky Way. I tried to identify the constellations and I found a few I recognised. It was awesome just to talk about everything and nothing when it was so quiet and nothing around except a million tiny stars. Then we heard a noise and realised a car was coming down the driveway. We hopped out of the way to avoid getting crushed and decided to go in and be social.

I saw David and Sema, the French and Turkish representatives. So I dragged them out. Sema went in after a few minutes but David and I stayed out a while longer. I couldn't tear myself away from the sky, it was so beautiful!

Intercultural evening: A Serb, a Canadian and a Turk with the Macedonian flag

We were asked to find something that represented us in nature. Most of us came back with flowers or rocks. Momir created this lovely piece of modern art which represented his hopes for the conference.

Relaxing on the grass

"Home"

An authentic Communist-era lodge. My home for the next week.

God, I feel like I'm at summer camp. I'm sharing a room with Adriana from Timisoara and Francesca from Italy. Our beds are more like cots but they're clean. The bathroom can only be described as quaint.

At least there's a toilet. The shower, however...

There's a drain in the floor. And a handheld shower head on the wall. That's it. No curtain, not place to stand. Basically, the whole bathroom is this self-contained shower unit. After a shower, water is everywhere.

The view is spectacular though. We're right in the middle of the mountains, a few kilometres from the Macedonian border. I could stand on the balcony forever staring at the mountains.

Bulgarian cheeses rule. Sort of like a softer version of feta with cucumbers, peppers and tomatoes.

We had a meet and greet where we got to meet everyone at the conference. So far, there's a Portuguese, two French, an Italian, several Macedonians, two Serbs, three Romanians and me, the lone North American.

Because this is Europe, alcohol flowed freely and we all got sloshed. The Serbs and Macedonians danced and I spent the evening talking to Nuno (.pt) and Nicolae (.ro). The night didn't end until very very late.

View from the balcony

Our hotel

View from the balcony

Bulgaria

Bulgaria

Bulgaria

Blogging from Bulgaria

I'm in Bulgaria and alive. Barely. I'm so tired. I'll write more when I get more time here at the Internet cafe.

ZzZzZzZzZz

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Belgrade street

FAC interns in Belgrade

Belgrade

Belgrade

Belgrade

Belgrade

Belgrade

(I'm actually writing this post on September 27th from an Internet cafe in Belgrade)

It sucks to get up at 5:00 am. Luckily, I made my train. I met Cosmin, another volunteer at the Institute and he got me on the train. Unfortunately, not the right train. Another guy and I hopped off at the last minute and onto the right train just as it started to pull away. Luckily, this was the right train and we just sat in our cabine out of breath. Turns out he was going to Belgrade for a tennis tournament and spoke excellent English.

The train ride was uneventful. We stopped at the border and all the Romanians were made to get off for reasons unknown. I was mostly concerned with getting my passport back. Happily, after about 45 minutes, everyone was let back on the train and we went on with the trip.

The train was almost an hour late. I felt so bad for Rob who was waiting for me at the station. We quickly got in contact with Jane and spent the day touring the city. I got to taste the very famous and very delicious burec. It's basically this greasy meat pastry that you eat with yoghurt. I also got to meet Mike, another Canadian intern as well as an Aussie working at the embassy and Jen, an American doing animation in an orphanage. A great group.

Rob and Jen dropped me off at the station at 9:00 and we waited for almost an hour for the Aussie (can't remember his name). Then they took off at 10:00 pm. My train wasn't until 11:30 pm. I went inside the station and all the destinations were written in Cyrillic. I'm sorry to insult all the Slavs who use that alphabet, but it looks like it was designed by a dislexic four year old. I couldn't even tell which trains were coming and which were going. All I knew was that my train left at 11:30 so I figured out that the CO-(-)-NA meant "Sofia".

I wanted a couchette so I politely asked the ticket controller if he spoke English. Nope, only Serbian. Lovely. Try telling someone who doesn't speak your language that:
a) you want to buy a couchette
b) you need to know the price of said couchette
c) you will *not* surrender your ticket
d) he cannot have your passport

We finally settled on a price of 5 euros which was very reasonably. Especially since he agreed to let me have the couchette to myself. He wanted my ticket which I did not want to leave with him. I still had 4 days of travel left on the pass so I wanted to make sure I got it back. I tried to ask why he wanted it but how do you explain "Why?" is another language. Then I had a brilliant idea. I ran to get my handy Lonely Planet Eastern European Phrase Guide and found "Why" in Serbian. He burst out laughing, which only made me laugh even harder. Finally, I just let him have it. A few minutes later, he returned with extra blankets. Score!

The trip itself was fine. I was able to lock the door and except for the border guards, no one interrupted me. Unfortunately, the curtains didn't cover the whole window so the lights at every stop woke me up. Oh well.

I was supposed to meet two of the Serbian delegates on the train but since there was no way to reach them, I had hoped that we would meet up. We didn't.

When we pulled into the Sofia station, I started talking to another passenger. He worked as a mechanical engineering researcher for the University of Sofia. We spent about 40 minutes talking. I love how I always meet interesting people on trains.

I quickly found Iany and Momir and Peter from the seminar. I was nearly dead from sleep deprivation but they seemed very nice. We went outside and I met up with the rest of the group. We had more than a two hour drive to Kyustendil. I sat withg Adriana, another intern from the Institute and talked with Nicolae, a representative from Bucharest.

Everyone was so nice. The Serbians were crazy. We listened to traditional Bulgarian music and they were dancing in their seats.

In Kyustendil, we found an internet cafe where I was able to publish the above post. We also got lunch. Now I know how Japanese tourists feel.

"What do you want?"
"Uhhhh"

I couldn't even read the menu as it was in Cyrillic.

Or maybe this is how illiterates feel.

I settled on something with chicken and cheese and red peppers. Seemed safe enough. And it was quite tasty.

Then it was back in the bus for the rest of the trip to the hotel.

I'm off!

Off to Belgrade and Bulgaria. Have a good week everyone!

The Romanian flag after the 1989 revolution. 

Revolution

It's open. The museum exhibition is finally open!

While walking home from work a week ago, I saw a poster for a museum exhibit about the 1989 Revolution, told through pictures. I was pretty psyched every day when I passed by.

Yesterday, the door was open a crack. I crept in and snuck upstairs. I heard the sounds of wood being sawed and nails being pounded. I quietly crept out.

This morning the door was wide open. Victory! I went upstairs and introduced myself. I was ushered into a room filled with pictures. A few minutes later, an old man came up and asked where I was from. "Uhhh, Canada". He held his hand out and I thought to myself "Please don't let this be a beggar". Turns out he was the museum coordinator. He told me to come get him when I was done so that he could show me a movie.

I was very impressed with the exhibit. There were probably over a hundred enlarged black and white images taken between December 16 and December 22. They even had English captions!

I can't describe the feeling I had when I saw what Timisoara looked like during the revolution. The most poignant was the shot of three tanks in an Victory Square. I recognised soldiers sitting on the railing where I like to sit. I had never seen the square as empty as it was in that picture.

In the window were old Romanian flags with the Communism symbol cut out.

The movie was equally as enjoyable. The subtitles were accurate and save for one speech by Ceaucescu, everything was subtitled in English. It certainly helped to make me understand a bit more what went on during the Revolution.

December 1989. I was in grade three. I certainly didn't know what was going on in Romania then. And yet I saw eight year olds in the crowds cheering and protesting along with their parents.

Makes me realise that I never had to protest for anything. Ok, I was tear gassed in Strasbourg during a demonstration against the US invasion of Iraq and the subsequent Iraq War, but that was mainly a case of being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I spent a few minutes chatting with the man after the movie. He took a picture of me because he said he likes to photograph all the foreigners who see the exhibit. He told me that there was no cost to view the exhibit, but there was a "suggested" donation of 2.50 euros, which was mandatory. Why not just charge 2.50 euros then? I gave him 100,000 lei (2.50 euros) which I would have given anyways. I just think it was funny that we *had* to give a "donation".

They gave me a pamphlet about the exhibit and invited me to sign the guestbook. There was a huge group of American teachers there that morning! I was the only Canadian though. They asked for me to come back when I get back from Bulgaria. They want me to help with some of the translation, which I readily agreed to.

September 17

I left my city a month ago today.

I always think that way. One day ago I was doing this. One week ago I did that. I was there a month ago today.

So let's see. It's 14:14 in Romania which means it's 8:14 back home. I had probably just gotten up for breakfast.

Wow, time sure does fly when you're having fun.

British Council

Delphine made a tonne of French friends though the Centre Culturel Francais so I thought I'd pay my local British Council a visit. I imagined a warm welcoming circle of Anglo and Aussi staff, English books, maybe links to the expat community.

The doorway was guarded by two Romanian men in uniform. I started to push around them when they said something to me in Romanian.

"Umm...British Council?"
"It's closed"
"The door is open and the sign here says that it's open"

They reluctantly let me in. I saw various posters advertising England on the walls so I thought this might b a good start. Upstairs, I met three ladies who were moving furniture up the stairs.

"unintelligible Romanian"
"Is this the British Council?"
"Yes. But we're closed until October 1"
"Oh. What do you do here? Are there any British people who work here?"
"No, only Romanians. And we manage the library"
"So there's no expat community in Timisoara? What about the Centre Culturel Francais? There's a huge French expat community"
"Yes, well, we're not them. Goodbye"

Lovely. No expat community at all, save for those unfriendly too-good-for-everyone Mormon missionaires.

And before anyone jumps down my back and says things like "You're in Romania, make some Romanian friends, don't stay with other anglophones", I *do* have experience living in foreign cultures and I can and will make local friends. However, it's always nice to have someone from a similar language or background there once in a while for support. Marcus was a godsend in Sweden and I had my fellow Mt A students in France. The other interns are either in the same cities or cities with thriving expat communities. Four of the interns are in Belgrade, two in Sarajevo and two in Dhaka. Rob and Maud are in Sofia and Bucharest respectively, two cities who *do* have thriving expat communities. And here I am, alone in Timisoara.

Don't get me wrong. I love the city and I love being here. It feels like home and I've only been here for 4 weeks (as of today). But my life is a monotonous routine:
wake up
walk to work
work
walk home
go to the market
make dinner
watch tv
sleep

No embassy parties, no meeting with C-grade horror film directors (*cough* Rob *cough*), no ritzy sports complexes for Canadian expats (*cough* Marc and Per *cough*), no country capital. In a way I'm glad because life here is simple. I can get around by myself. I can order food in a restaurant. I feel self-sufficient. In fact, I feel Romanian. I live like everyone does. I wanted the Eastern European experience and I got it. But I just wish that sometimes I had someone like me to experience it with.

Walking to work

It's a nice day. You're walking to work. Don't you just love seeing some guy in military fatigues and a machine gun blocking your path?

I think he was supervising some prisoners as they did community service. There were about 15 young men cleaning up the train overpass embankment.

I did not like seeing that thing anywhere near me. He was probably only a few years older than me too. Scary.

Stats

I love stats. Tallest, longest, furthest? I want to know.

I have a stats counter on this blog, mainly to see how people find it.

A lot of people found it by searching for the lyrics for "Doar Cu Tine". Glad to know I'm providing a service for people.

A few other notable search terms that I've come across:

1) Strip clubs in Timisoara (UK)
2) Karla und sex (Austria)
3) Keffir (USA)

Update

So now that I've been here almost a month, I can respond to Jo's letter. It scared me because it compounded the beliefs that I had that Romania was a desolate, lawless place full of pimps, prostitutes and poverty (the three P's). I am glad to say that I have not had the pleasure of experiencing most of the things she described and I don't even have the luxury of a bodyguard! Granted, Timisoara is considered more "Western" than the rest of the country, although it is not without its own problems.

Hi there, I'm on Canadian soil again, a little groggy from so much flying but happy to be back... despite the fact that I miss Romania quite a bit. I'm so glad I experienced that place. It was the first time I have ever felt justifiably unsafe. As you know, Romania has a very poor population, as a result everyone is trying to get an edge in any way they can. Robbery and assult are common, and nobody trusts anyone else. Everywhere I went I was clutching my purse, watching my pockets, wondering who was behind me and what their intentions were.

I felt this way my first week in Romania but it's quickly passed. I was prepared for an army of little street hellions with knives ready to cut open my purse without me even knowing. Now that I've arrived, I can and do wear a backpack. Delphine walked around with a tote bag. I'm no more vigilant here than I was in Paris. I walk alone at night. I don't feel as safe as I do back home but I also avoid empty streets and dark alleys. It comes down to common sense: don't wear fancy clothes, don't carry fancy accessories and nobody gets hurt.

When Koren and I first arrived we were behaving like Canadians, we would be walking through the streets smiling or saying hello (buna) to people who passed by. Our friend Toni (Romanian working as a securityguard on the CANDU townsite) quickly advised us not to, smiling at strangers indicates that you want something from them or they can get something from you, remain stonefaced unless you know someone. It was probaby to the credit of Toni that we weren't assulted on the trip.

This is common sense. I learned that lesson early on in France. Making eye contact can be seen as an invitation for sexual favours. I will greet old people sitting in parks or people in my nieghbourhood but otherwise I do my business and let everyone so theirs.

We met Toni our first night in town, he said he would take us out to the discos so we got Canadian references for him ('cause ya can't trust anyone) who said he was legit. For the rest of the trip Toni acted as our bodyguard. Koren and I looked different so we got alot of attention. Toni would come out to the disco with us, drink no more than 2 beer and just watch to make sure no one looked at us the wrong way. If we went to the washroom he would come and stand outside, all business. There are alot of pimps in Cernavoda, there is good money in that business which is hard to find in Romania, one night we were at an outdoor bar, Toni was very nervous the whole time, wouldn't let us go to the washroom even though it was within eyeshot, eventually he moved us inside because apparently some pimps were talking about Koren and me. Had we gone to the washroom alone we could have been druged and taken to a Turkish street corner before we knew it. Its happened before, many times. A trustworthy male friend is invaluable to women in Romania, otherwise many won't go out at night.

I can and do go to the bathroom alone. I haven't been to any discos but I have seen some sketchy bars. No problems there though. I've waited for taxis between street kids huffing glue and old tattoed men and felt no worse off than standing outside a club back home. I've witnessed girls, in groups of twos or threes on their way to discos, no males in site.

One night I was thinking about how vulnerable I was feeling, I wasn't sure if it was because I was a foreign female or just because I was female, so I asked some of my Romanian girlfriends. I asked them if it was very dangerous to be a woman in Romania, before I could even get the words out they were nodding their heads. Romania is still very chauvanistic, women have a defined place and laws about sexual harassment have not been impliented in most of Romania, you mix that with the poverty I've already mentioned that drives people to crime and what you get is a very volitile region for women. After we finished discussing this my friend Leylla, a Romanian woman raised in Cernavoda asked me to accompany her to the washroom because she was scared to go alone.

I can't comment on this because I haven't met too many Romanian girls. My coworker asked me to come with her to make a phone call one night because the area was empty save for a few burly men. I accompanied here but it wouldn't have bothered me to go alone. She said she was probably overreacting but we both belt safer being together.

The living wage is very low there. Toni lives with his sick mother and makes 100$ a month, here is an example of the purchasing power of his wage. Koren and I went shopping with Linda (family friend) on this average grocery shop (just the basics) to feed her and her husband Linda spent 2000,000 Lei (about 80$) Toni would have to work for a month merely raise that much money. However, he cannot spend that money just on a 2000000Lei grocery shop to feed him and his mother, he has rent and bills to pay as well.

Salaries are higher in Timisoara than the rest of the country and people make about 150 euros a month. My rent is 150 euros a month + utilities. It is possible to eat a lot cheaper than 2,000,000 lei, however, this diet would be almost vegetarian. I was going to say that I can eat for $10.00 a week, but multiply that by four and then by two and you've got $80.00.


Watch me get mugged at knifepoint on the way home now.

Balkan bureaucracy

I miss SNCF. Sure, I don't miss the strikes or the perverted controllers but I have to admit: they give great service. Quick, easy, efficient service. When I wanted to buy a ticket in France to Milan or Spain, I was able to waltz in and do my business in five minutes. If they weren't able to help me, they would give detailed instructions on how to arrive at my destination.

I expected as much when I went to buy my ticket to Bulgaria. I brought along two Romanian coworkers to overcome the language barrier.

A ticket from Timisoara to Sofia shouldn't be that difficult, should it?

Wrong.

Apparently, Romanian train stations can't sell tickets for trains not originating in Romania. Since I have to switch trains in Belgrade, I will have to purchase a ticket in Belgrade. No guarantee that they will have a place for me. No couchette reservation. Bearing in mind that myself (like the rest of Romanians) do not speak Serbian. I just have to "hope for the best".

Luckily, I will be meeting my Serbian friend at the station so hopefully she'll get me sorted out.

So I settled for a Balkan Flexipass. This little doo-hickey gives me 5 days of travel in one month in Romania, Serbia, Bosnia, Macedonia and Bulgaria. This is perfect. I start on Saturday, and since I'm travelling overnight, it still counts for one day. And I can use it on the way back too! And I'll still have 3 days of travel! It only cost 48 euros, which may be a little more expensive than individual tickets to Sofia, but it makes up for it in convenience.

I'm also in contact with several of the other participants. Unfortunately, due to visa regulations, the two other Romanians have to travel through Bucharest. I'm going to meet up with another Serb and a Macedonian on the trip. Somehow. I'm going to try to get a couchette and they both want seats, so we'll see how this goes.

I'm really looking forward to meeting everyone. Bulgaria, here I come!

Evil Mr. Sodex and his hoes

Only Mt A students will get that, but it's ok.

Seems the ubiquitous (I'm using that word a lot lately, aren't I) blue and white logos are everywhere. This particular sticker was found on the door of the local pizza parlour.

Seems like Americana is penetrating Romania little by little. Coke is everywhere (although Adrian told me that this is a form of rebellion against Communism as Coke wasn't available before the revolution. Seems to me like they changed political slavery into corporate slavery), McDonalds is in the most historical corner of the city and I found McCain fries at the local grocery store.

Yes, McCain fries.

I'll try to take a picture but I'm sure the clerks already refer to me as the Milk Maid for examining every article I pick up there (pardon me for trying to decypher cooking structions in Romanian) so I'll have to be discrete.

For those who didn't know, McCain owns 1/2 of my province and the company was created in Florenceville, in northern New Brunswick. You can't eat a fry in New Brunswick without it being a McCain fry. And I like to think they invented curly fries.

But then again, it would give me an excuse to go back ot the grocery store. I've developped a crush on Adrian (another Adrian. Is it just me or is every Romanian named Adrian?), one of the employees. We don't do much except smile at each other because he doesn't speak English, but he's awfully cute.

I can see it now. It's like some exotic foreign film, updated for 2004. We can replace the guy at the market for a lonely grocery store clerk. He sees the beautiful foreigner, falls madly in love with her and shyly offers her a fresh artichoke. Or something like that. Cue traditional Romanian background music. The two lovers stare at each other and kiss. The end.

In other news, I'm sick with a cold, and I expect plenty of get-well-soon messages.

Something for all you Mt A people 

Woman rips off husband's testicles

A lovely little gem from Rob courtesy of Ananova.

A Romanian man had his testicles ripped off by his wife after she accused him of having an affair.

Fifty-year-old Aurica Marinescu from Constanta managed to call an ambulance before he passed out.

Doctors at a local hospital managed to re-attach his scrotum after a ten hour operation.

But despite his injuries, Marinescu says he won't press charges against his wife, according to the local daily Libertatea.

He said: "We were at home when we started to fight over a so-called relationship I had with another woman. She got so angry that she grabbed my scrotum and ripped it off.

"I wouldn't have said she was a strong woman but she was furious and she seemed to have superhuman strength in her anger.

The pain was incredible."

The man said his wife was very passionate and added he still loved her, which was why he did not want to cause her any problems by pressing charges.

The Terminal

I found so many similarities between myself and Viktor Navorsky. The movie wasn't fantastic but it was well worth the $2.00 I spent watching it.

I also say "da, da" whenever someone asks me something which I don't understand. I mess up words. I look at people strangely when they go on and on in their native language(s) without a single iota ofcomprehension on my part. And I also make friends with unconventional people. And I also feel like an idiot most of the time. People talk about me and I don't know what they say.

But you make do and those are great rewards. Last night, coming back from the movie, I was able to answer all of the cabby's question. What film did I see? Did I like it? Where am I from? He tried to charge me 70,000 lei for a 30,000 lei trip. I offered him 40,000 and then he said he would accept 50,000. I was satisfied, in more ways than one.

Sunday

Maria and Florescu invited me over for a traditonal Romanian Sunday dinner. Sarmale, soupa de pui and chicken and potatoes.

Sarmale is a mixture of beef and pork and rice wrapped in cabbage leaves and boiled. I'm not a big eater and plus, I had a snack before I came over. I took a 3/4 bowl of soup and after a few bites, Maria insisted on filling up the bowl to the top. And when I was half done, insisted on refilling it. I took two sarmale and I think she felt insulted so I took three more. And then two more. I think she wanted me to eat the entire table! Neither she nor Florescu ate with me. She stood watching me eat. Was this some sort of test? I ate one chicken wing but didn't touch the potatoes. I was about ready to explode! She gave me the chicken and sarmale to take home. They'll make a nice supper tonight.

Apparently, Flurescu has a nephew who is an engineer and speaks "perfect English". They called him and he said he would be glad to meet me. We made a meeting for 6:00 pm.

6:00 came and no Adrian. He didn't come until 8:00 pm. Meanwhile, Maria and Florescu insisted I eat cookies and ice cream. I ate a few cookies to appease them but said no to the rest. I'm so proud of myself! Adrian and his friend Florin came at 8:30 and we had a nice chat. He didn't speak "perfect" English but it was better than most English that I've heard around here. I feel so bad for him and his friend. Both have degrees in engineering, yet can't find work. Adrian is working as a representative for a contracting firm and Florin drives a cab. Adrian wanted to be a cop but found the business too corrupt. He desperately wants to immigrate to Canada so he can use his education and make a decent living for himself. I told him I'd help him fill in the forms.

Weekend

Saturday, Delphine and I got up early to get her some souvenirs for her to bring back to France. We went to this souvenir shop in the mall and I saw some gorgeous painted plates. I bought three. They were less than $3.00 each. Then we went to the museum gift shop and I found the same plates for less than $2.00. So of course, I bought a tonne more. Eight, in fact. They'll make great Christmas presents.

We also went to a little art store with lots of traditional wooden Romanian crafts. And glassware. I saw the most beautiful vases I have ever seen. Turns out the artist is super famous in Romania (Ion someone or other) and has had exhibits all over the world. He's currently showing his work at a Manhatten gallery. It's very reasonably priced and so beautiful. I saw some small vases which weren't too heavy. I bought three. Hey, it's an investment, right? I wanted some of his larger pieces but it would be completely impossible to bring them back home.

Delphine and I were accosted by some street kids while crossing the street. One girl acted all pitiful. "Give me money, give me money". We shook our heads and she started screaming some insult to us. We don't know what she said but there was no way she'd be getting our money after that!

After Delphine went home to pack, I wandered around the downtown area (not recommended if you're carrying three glass vases and ten terracotta plates). A woman came up to me and asked "blah blah blah alimentary blah bla bla". I thought she was asking directions to the grocery store. I was so proud of myself when I gave her instructions on how to get to Bega. Then she asked me where I was from. "Canada". Then she starts asking "alimentary" again. So I used my "confused tourist" face and walked off. She followed me. She pointed to my purse. I guess she was asking for food, not directions to the grocery store. I gave her 5000 lei and left as fast as I could.

I came home and saw my neighbours sitting on the side of the road (with watermelons!). They gave me two! (I think they give me the tasty yet non-pretty ones, but hey! Free watermelons are free watermelons!). We started talking about music and Horia confessed that he's a huge Pink Floyd fan. I just happened to have The Wall DiVX in my apartment. So I brought my laptop and the movie over and we sat on the curb watching Pink Floyd. And singing along to Comfortably Numb. Unfortunately, I only have Part 2 (why didn't I check this out after I downloaded it?) so I need to find someone with Part 1. Any volunteers? Afterwards, I showed them a few Pixar cartoons. Cartoons are great. No words, just pictures and laughter.

Typical painted plate from central Romania 

Romanian painted plate 

More plates 

My new plates 

Watermelons and painted plates. What could be more Romanian? 

My new vase 

Closeup of vase 

$2.00 CAD worth of fresh market vegetables 

What you can buy with $2.00 CAD 

My apartment is the one covered in grave vines. 

My apartment building. The convenience store is to the left of the stairs. My own apartment is directly right of the stairs. Luckily, you can't see in due to the grape vines. 

My apartment building 

The green bathroom (see the jacuzzi jets?) 

The pink bathroom 

Entryway (living room straight ahead, kitchen to the left, bedroom and bathrooms to the right) 

My door 

Looking outside 

Up the stairs! 

What everyone wants to see on their apartment door (I think it's warning about pesticides) 

Looking left up my street 

Looking right up the sidewalk 

Looking right up my street 

Maria and Florescu and our "feast" 

A watermelon on top of a car 

Kyustendil, Bulgaria 

Bulgaria

I'm going to Bulgaria. Nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah.

While I was in Strasbourg, there was a lot of emphasis placed on the inclusion of the 10 latest countries (Czech Republic, Lithuania, et al.) I had a lovely course on EU mobility and issues affecting the newest member states.

There's a conference coming up on Balkan identity and EU enlargement. Unfortunately, you have to be an EU member to attend. And by attend, I mean to attend for free. I was super interested in going and asked my director if I could go. Turns out that as long as I pay for my travel, I can get free lodging and food.

Am I psyched? OH YEAH!

The objectives are:
To give youth leaders and NGO activists from Balkan region possibility to meet in order to enhance establishment of sustainable partnership and cooperation, to provoke discussions about young people’s problems and difficulties in NGO work as well as discussions about the situation and the undergoing processes on the Balkans as a part of European integration.

To try to come to a concept of regional identity as a part of the common European identity, to define the existing stereotypes and prejudices about the Balkan region, as well as discussions about the existing conflicts on the Balkans and their perception in the rest of Europe.

To define challenges and needs confronted by the young people in their voluntary work on the Balkans, to give them possibility to exchange information and ideas for future cooperation and to discuss about the youth policy development based on the needed changes in the Balkan countries because of their will to join European Union.

Kyustendil, here I come!

I'll leave Saturday morning (the 18th) and spend the whole day in Belgrade (and hopefuly see Jane and Rob in the process). Then I get a sleeper train to Bulgaria and end up in Sofia where I hope to see Rob. It's a quick train ride to Kyustendil after that.

Recycling

Actually, that reminds me:

I started taking a new route walking home from work.
a) this gives me a chance for a change of scenery
b) this decreases the likelyhood of me getting run over by a transport truck, cement truck, Dacia or van

Most of the garbage bins here are overflowing in garbage. Romania is making an effort to promote recycling but I don't think it's caught on yet. Plastic bottles are piled up around garbage bins, yet I doubt anyone will take them away. Most public garbage cans advertise the recycling logo but I seriously doubt anyone cares.

I was shocked to see people digging through the garbage. One man was chosing his treasures carefully and placing them delicately in his bag. I was shocked to see one very well-dressed woman scavenging as well. She was wearing a nice dress and expensive jewelery. Delphine tells me that this is quite common and it's the only way people can make ends meet.

Cookies part 2

I went to meet Maria on the corner as per our agreement. Her other neighbours were there selling watermelons. The man (I still don't know how name) gave me a free watermelon. And for some strange reason, there was a watermelon on his car. Made me giggle, so I took a picture of it.

This man's favourite topic seems to be discussing Russia and its horrible influence on Romania. He speaks a tiny bit of English but I often have to help him find the words. He offered to take me to his village soon so I could see a bit more of the area. Should be very interesting! He's also going to help me get some pet fish.

The sun was setting and we were all standing and sitting on the corner talking. A few kids came up to us and they seemed facinated by the English. A little boy wanted to try out his English but then became too shy to talk. A couple of dogs sat at our feet and it was just a nice, cozy scene. I took some digital pictures and showed the kids how to use the camera.

Maria took me upstairs and had a feast laid out for me (I had just eaten supper). Cookies, loukum (Turkish Delight), sweets, salami, bread, eggplant mayonnaise dip... And here I was watching what I eat. I ate two of these...I don't know how you'd explain them. Like croissants made out of dough with some loukum in the middle dusted with coconut and a piece of salami. I hoped they wouldn't force the eggplant stuff on me. I tried it once before and everyone knows how much I hate mayonnaise.

The lack of mutual languages is becoming difficult. She seems to think that if she says something louder or faster in Romanian, then I will miraculously understand it. I've been here three weeks (well, three weeks minus a day yesterday) so I think it's a miracle that I can pick out words to get the gist of the meaning of what she's talking about.

She brought out her old pictures to show me. She was such an incredibly beautiful young woman. Turns out she's divorced from her first husband. I tried to draw out a miniature family tree so she could explain the vast relations she was trying to tell me about (how do you explain 'god-father' to someone who doesn't speak Romanian?).

She wants to be my Romanian mother. This scares me. She told me to call her "Mama" (I think). I already have the best mom back in Canada (Hi Mom!). She tried to get me to sit on her lap but I told her I preferred the floor.

We live in apartments on opposite sides of the street. I figured they would be the same inside and outside. Wrong. They look the same on the outside. Mine has an electronic lock outside. Hers has no lock on the front door. My apartment is marble and hardwood. Hers is carpet. She told me how two men broke into their apartment 3 weeks ago. They chipped open the locks, went through everything, ate food in the kitchen and left a "mess" in the bathroom. I don't know how anyone could do that to a poor elderly couple like these people. I hope they didn't steal anything. Maria showed me how she has money and purses hidden all over the living room.

I've never been more afraid of going home before since arriving in Romania. I imagined burglars everywhere. Granted, my apartment block is a lot more secure, but I still had to cross the street and I had no Florin to watch out for me. Coming out of the building, I saw a young mother and her child rifling through the garbage on the corner.

Cookies

My "date" went fabulously well. Maria met me on the corner and invited me upstairs for coffee and cookies (and nuts and crackers). Neither she nor her husband speak English or French but they are warm, inviting people.

I had no idea what to expect. Their apartment is considerably shabbier than mine but it's definitely cozier. Reminds me of the quintessential great-grandmother apartment, filled with crafts, doilies, an old TV and a cat and dog. All that was missing was a fire crackling at the grate.

There was a picture of Maria on the wall when she was 18. What a beautiful young woman. The years have not been too kind but I still think she's beautiful. Her eyes are always sparkling with so much personality! However, she suffers from glaucoma and cataracts and has to take eye drops everyday.

She showed me pictures from her wedding and first husband (I think). I understand that her current husband is not her first husband. I had a heck of a time explaning the concept of "step father" and "step brothers" until I realised the word was in my dictionary.

Soon, their son, Florin, came home. He showed me pictures of soccer games from Timisoara and Bucharest. He only spoke a few words of English but conversational Italian so we created our own English-Italian-Romanian language hybrid. He was very nice but asked me if I was married. Hmmm...

Maria insisted on stuffing me full of cookies. And almonds. And cheese crackers. And water. (I politely declined the coffee). I picked up a lot of Romanian during the evening, seeing as I kept having to consult my dictionary and write everything down before I said it. It must have been torture for them seeing as I have zero concept of Romanian grammar or vocabulary. I can't even pluralise words. However, no ESL student was as proud as me when I was able to make them understand something I was trying to say.

Later on, Florin and I taught each other to count in our respective languages. I can finally count to 100, badly, but comprehensibly.

Maria gave me some cookies to take home and hid a watermelon in the bag as well. If you're asking how one can hide a watermelon, well, I thought it was a bottle or two of water at the bottom of the bag. Now I have three watermelons and two Spanish melons on my table in the kitchen.

She invited me over to make cookies tonight. And to lunch Sunday for the traditional Romanian meatball/cabbage dinner.

I want to invite them over for dinner too but I don't know how they'd feel. My apartment is twice the size of theirs and I live alone. I feel it might be awkward on everyone's part. Any advice?

I have a date!

With my neighbour who sells watermelons.

She wants me to take some pictures of her dog (a little Corgi).

She doesn't speak a word of English so at any rate, it'll be a good opportunity for me to learn Romanian.

I'm excited! I'm going to bring her some maple syrup as a gift.

Moldova

This morning, while waiting for my boss to pick me up, an older woman came up to me and started talking. She was probably about 40 but looked a lot older. Most of her teeth were broken or black. She had ginger-coloured hair and half of her right eye was bloody.

I had no idea what she was talking about. She kept pointing to herself and saying something or other. So I pointed to myself and said 'engleza' (English). She said something again and I offered her my dictionary. She then made a sign which I assume meant that she either couldn't read or couldn't see well enough to read. Then she said 'Moldovia' and I responded with 'Canada'.

A man came out of the store and she said something to him. He gave her the load of bread he was carrying. Then she pointed to her stomach and started rubbing it. Then I realised that she wanted money or food. I opened bag to get my wallet. Inside was my laptop computer, digital camera, minidisc player and USB keychain. Here I was, with probably over $1000 worth of digital equipment on me, and here's a woman who can't even eat. I gave her 10,000 lei (about $0.40) because I didn't have anything else. She thanked me and left.

A few minutes later, a man came by and started trying to talk to me. He knew a few words of French. He explained that this woman was his wife and that they were from Moldova. They came to Romania to find jobs but there's nothing available here. I don't know where they live or what they do. He was dressed in a heavy wool sweater and vest, even though it'll be at least 25 degrees Celcius today.

My boss arrived then. I got up to leave and thanked the man for talking. He kept staring at my tupperware container, which contained my daily supply of watermelon. He almost reminded me of a dog looking at a steak. I should have given it to him. He's starving and I have too much.

I hope I'll see him again. Next time I'll give them more.

Football

Delphine and I wandered around Piata Unirii late last night. There was a soccer game on. Every so often, cheers would erupt from the various cafes. Most of the cafes had television screens on the terraces. We saw a couple of street kids watching the games too, their bouquets forgotten in their hands. However, as soon as we walked past, they asked us for money.

Coke

I hate Coca-Cola. I never liked it. Maybe it was because I always saw the bottles on the ground, but it's always been associated with garbage in my mind. I've never been a fan of sodas to begin with (sensitivity to caffeine), but the last Coke I drank was in Copenhagen in 2000.

Romania is owned by Coke. Everywhere you look, you see the ubiquitous red and white logo. Most of the umbrellas at cafes are Coke (unless they're Heineken, and even that is probably owned by Coke). There are even Coke logos painted on most of the university residences.

This branding has gone too far. Coke coke coke coke coke. Why not just replace the city fountains with the stuff? I'm sure they're already tried.

Delphine tells me that during her internship in the villages, Coke approached the group with an offer: a tonne of coke and three regrigerators. The catch? All the interns had to get up in front of the children and say "My name is X and I love Coke!" Luckily, no one was willing to do this.

I'm at a loss for words. This is sickening. It's like when Nike and Pepsi go into poor areas of North American cities and offer to give them money in exchange for branding the school gym, the basketball court or even the people themselves. Coke is possibly the worst thing you can put in your body and it's not cheap. Unfortunately, I can't even avoid the company, because Coke itself owns like 40% of the world.

Could you imagine a North American residence like this? (Actually, after reading No Logo, I can). Welcome to the future. 

I wonder how much Coke paid Romania for all this? 

Proof that Coke owns the world 

Graffiti

There's some neat stuff around here. You just have to look.

I doubt the writer of this knew the full meaning. 

I tried to get Raluca to translate this. She said it was hard to explain in English. Any volunteers? 

The memorial sign to the victims of the 1989 revolution, on the Opera building 

The famous non-stop funeral service 

People

Timisoara is full of so many different people. Here are a few shots we took of the various residents.

This man makes his living by weighing people on the street. He doesn't want to beg. He wants to make money by providing a service. He's always in front of this store. I've only ever seen tourists weighing themselves.  

Two little boys playing in one of the city's public water fountains. 

A little boy playing with the pigeons in front of the Opera 

One of the famous Romanian short skirts 

Timisoara's tram 

Fountain in the Piata Unirii 

The view off Delphine's balcony 

A view of the opera 

Board outside the canal advertising various activities 

Bega canal 

City vegetable market 

Wedding party entering the cathedral 

The bullet holes from the 1989 revolution. 

Closeup of fountain 

Fountain 

Piata Victoria 

Cathedral in the daytime 

Cathedral at sunset 

Typical street downtown 

Piata Opera 

Walkway with the cathedral in the background (and for all you tourists, the Pret-A-Manger gives horrible service and constantly runs out of food). 

Doorway 

The sculpture is of Remus, Romulus and the wolf who suckled them 

Balconies 

Pictures

Delphine and I spent Sunday taking pictures of the city, as she's leaving next week. I'll try to put a picture a day up or something, but here are a few now.

Women selling watermelons by my apartment 

Selling watermelons on the street corner 

Doar cu tine

So I checked my stats and a lot of people are finding this blog by searching Google for "Doar cu tine" and "download".

I find that somewhat ironic.

Watermelons part 2

When I woke up, I noticed that the watermelon sellers were back on the corner. They had new melons today and indeed, the cart was full. I bought two Spanish melons and started talking with the lady's husband. He told me that he worked for the city (as an engineer?) for 45 years. After the collapse of Communism, he couldn't find any work. His wife worked her whole life for RomTelecom and it was the same story. No work. He only knew a few words in English but was able to communicate his exasperation and the feeling of betrayal by the state. 45 years of service and he's reduced to selling watermelons on the side of the road to make ends meet. No Social Security, no help from the state. Nothing.

I wanted to cry.

I gave him and his wife a bottle of maple syrup. I know it's not much. I'd like to talk to them some more. The husband seemed very interested in discussing things with me. Once my Romanian gets better I think I'll invite them for supper.

To market, to market

Delphine and I decided to check out the market at Piata Aurora. Having been to numerous flea markets, but having heard stories of the fantastic Eastern European markets, I had no idea what to expect.

Imagine the world's biggest Frenchy's (for non Eastern Canadians, Frenchy's is a thrift shop where you can either find a leather Gucci Coat, last year's Banana Republic sweater or a dirty tshirt advertising the Diabetic fun-run from 1988). Table upon table upon table of sweaters and dresses and coats and jeans and everything else wearable. I bought a set of sheets for 200,000 lei ($8.00). I found a few H&M dresses but they were too small. I looked at the tshirts, hoping to find some old shirt with an archaic Romanian phrase on it. Unfortunately, most of the shifts were German. I did find a Backstreet Boys shirt as well as a fluorescent, so bright it hurts orange shirt with the silhouettes of the members of Status Quo outlined in black. It was so tacky I almost bought it.

There were probably good things to be found there but I didn't have the patience to look. There were probably 500 tables. It was huge! Mom and my aunts would have a field day there.

The rest of the market was boring. Aisles and aisles of shoes, trinkets, other trinkets and boring crap that you wouldn't buy at a dollar store. We left soon afterwards.

Vlad, Nadia and billiards

I went to meet Vlad and Nadia. The plan was to meet at 9 pm but I sent them a message hoping to meet them at 8 pm instead. Unfortunately, they never received the message so I sat at Piata Opera for an hour with my journal. I wrote about 5 pages on everything I saw, heard, smelled, witnessed and experienced. It was an awesome way to capture the moment.

When they came (9 pm on the dot), we went to this lovely little coffeeshop called Friends. Besides the fact that it seems like the only place in town where I can get roiboos tea, I can tell I will become a very frequent customer there.

We talked and laughed all night. They're such a cute couple and very obviously in love.

Later, I went to meet Delphine and two more French friends at the pool hall. I sunk my first shot perfectly. Everyone was impressed, especially me, since I normally suck at pool. Delphine and I played against Manu and Antoine. We beat them. We played again. We beat them again! They beat us the next two games, but we were fighting over the 8ball, so it was a good match.

One of the guys playing next to us was wearing the most horrible shoes in the world. Weird, white, Italian shoes with a curved tip. They were some of the ugliest shoes I have ever seen. Antoine told me that if I made the next shot, he would buy a pair. Unfortunately, I missed.

English!!!

I went out jogging last night. This must be a foreign concept to Eastern Europeans, as I got several off looks and a few honks from dirty old men.

Come to think of it, I never see anyone exercising here. Barely anyone bikes and I was the first jogger I saw. Granted, everyone walks everywhere, but I mean real, physical, sweaty, heavy breathing exercise.

A car almost ran me over. I don't know if it was deliberate or not. The streets are so narrow and it seemed the driver swerved in an effort to hit me. Made my heart stop for a few seconds.

Coming back, I saw a couple of young men in suit and ties waiting for the bus. Could they be part of the same group that I saw last Monday? (Delphine and I saw a group of Mormons walking down Piata Victoria. My super-sensitive ears picked out their English right away). I walked up to them and tried to get into eavesdropping distance, to hear if they would start to speak English. I couldn't hear anything. Eventually, I went up to them and asked "Hi, are you guys American?" "Yup!"

So we started talking. They're doing missionary work in Romania and will be here for two years, although they rotate around the country. They seemed quite nice but distant. They live in the area, so I thought I could make some new friends. I invited them to my apartment for a cup of tea.

"Do you live alone?"
"Yup! I have a great apartment"
"Um...we can't go unless there is an adult present"
Me thinking "I'm 23. I'm an adult"
"I'm just inviting you to my kitchen for some tea. I'm Canadian. We're not dangerous"
"Other things have happened in the past and now we're not allowed"
"Okaaaay"

So we chatted a bit more. They were your stereotypical Mormon missionary boys, completely devoid of any personality (I'm sorry if I inadvertently offend anyone). We discussed the religious status of Romania and I was just *waiting* for them to ask me what church I was here with (I'm an atheist and I'm volunteering with an NGO). They told me how they just ignored all the beggar women and children and poverty. So much for Christian charity.

I suggested we get together in the future. I told them it would be nice to have some English-speaking friends to be with every once in a while.

"Ok, let's do that"
He sounded completely unenthusiastic.

Their bus came, and I doubt I'll see them again.

I'm not missing much.

Watermelons!

I came home from work on Friday and saw something going on on thecorner of my street. I went over to investigate and realised that it was a group of women selling watermelons! Score! None of them spoke English but they demonstrated that the cart was full of fruit that morning. Normally people would buy a slice, or half a melon. They seemed shocked that I would buy three. Well, carrying three of those babies is a lot easier across your street instead of across town. I asked if I could take a picture of the cart and they seemed very pleased. I then asked if I could take a picture them of them and they were shocked! They started fussing with their hair and dresses. I told them they were 'fromoasa' (beautiful). One woman almost started crying, she was so surprised! They told me to come back on Saturday when there would be more fruit.

The most annoying song in the world

I'm twitching. I can't stop twitching.

Raluca and Delphine won't stop playing the Romanimation song.

Romanimation is the project where the interns went to volunteer in two underdevelopped villages. They made a song about it and recorded all the interns singing it.

I can't understand the English, French, Italian or Romanian parts.

But I hate it. HATE IT. HATE IT!

I made a deal that for every time they play it, I get to play Doar Cu Tine.

@&^&#*&^#*&63*&
They're playing it again.

It sounds like "yayayayayayayaya yayayayayyayayayaya yayayayayayayayaya yayayayayayayaya "

I am going to scream.

Kitchen

I love my kitchen. It's my favourite room of the apartment.

Not bad for a Communist-block apartment, huh?

My beloved kitchen 

My beloved kitchen 

My beloved kitchen 

My beloved kitchen 

Street

I like my street. There are huge, old trees lining the sidewalks. Cars are parked along both sides of the street. In fact, there isn't even enough room for two cars to pass each other on the street. When I come home in the taxi, often we have to pull into a driveway so that the other car can get by.

Sometimes, when I walk down the street, there's a really bad smell, like horse manure. Usually this means that there is a gypsy cart nearby. I've seen a few in the neighbourhood. Kind of strange to see a horse-drawn wagon with a mattress, various odds and ends, a radio and a few Roma on it first thing in the morning.

Most Roma in the area work in one of three ways:
a) musicians
b) brick makers
c) scavengers

In one of the villages where Delphine volunteers, she told me that there are huge metre-wide holes in the streets. Apparently, the Roma dig holes to get earth to make their bricks.

We've seen some Roma digging in garbage cans. They get materials to refurbish and sell.

I have yet to get a picture of a cart, but I'm working on it.

View from my bedroom window 

Kitchen

The view from my kitchen window in the apartment courtyard. Very typical communist apartment. Outside, there is usually a cat or two, a kid playing, something rusting and some grape trees.

I saw a neighbour yesterday while cooking dinner with Delphine. He was looking into the apartment. I waved. He looked at me like I had three heads (which I might very well have had through the glass).

View from kitchen window 

View from kitchen window 

View from kitchen window 

Work

Thought I'd start the day with some pictures of my workplace. Enjoy!

View from window 

Conference room 

Entryway 

Delphine at our desk 

Raluca and friend 

As I said earlier, the only thing I can't accept here is the sight of old women begging.

I went to get a few groceries last night. There was a poor old woman begging in front of the corner store. My neighbourhood is middle-class and the store is nothing special: only a few aisles of canned goods, frozen meats, deli items, breads, yoghurts and cleaning supplies.

Everyone ignored. I can't imagine how it would feel to see people coming in and out of a store carrying food. You know they have money because they're there to buy. Her hand was trembling and people just pushed her aside.

I decided to buy her some food, but then realised that this would be impractical. Almost everything needed a can opener, cutlery or a refrigerator. Then I decided to give her money. The lineup was very long and I was worried that she would leave before I got to the door. Luckily, she was still there. I pressed a 100,000 lei bill into her hand. She crossed herself and blessed me.

I should have given her more. I should have brought her into the store and told her to get as much as she wanted. I should have brought her home and cooked a warm meal.

Should have should have should have.

Of course, all that is impractical.

I'm just glad I was able to help someone eat, at least for one night.

Music

Everyone . download . this . song . NOW

It's the biggest hit in Romania

I love it.
And I hate myself more for loving it.

Aktiv - Doar cu Tine

Here are the lyrics. They don't have the lovely Romanian a a i s t squiggles, but they'll do.

Azi mi-am promis ca de maine nu ratez nici o sansa
Vreau sa iti spun tot ce simt
Langa tine incepe o nou viata.

Prerefren:
Si asta-i noaptea in care nu mai visez
Noaptea in care incep sa traiesc
Asta-i noaptea in care vreau sa dansez
Sa am distrez doar cu tine...

Refren(x2):
Vino langa mine, stiu ca vrei
Strange-ma in brate pana numar la trei
Ritmul meu te cheama, stiu ca poti
Cu mine sa dansezi inca doua nopti.

II:
Stii cat de mult mi-am dorit sa fim noi doi impreuna
Tu esti tot ce-am visat, vreau sa-mi spui mereu 'Noapte buna!'.