So, I’m officially a volunteer, again… Yesterday was the big swearing in ceremony in Brasov. I was particularly touched when both the CD and PTO mentioned we four Uzbek transfers during their speeches. Afterwords I took my gazda out for a drink, and then continued drinking with my friends… I had my first Long Island iced tea for a very long time, and then we headed to a Mexican (or at least as Mexican as you get in Romania,) restaurant where I had the very Mexican dish of pineapple chicken with mashed potatoes. We split a bottle of wine between the few of us, and then afterwords headed to another bar for digestives. I had my first grasshopper, again, in a very long time. After that we went to a bigger place where most of the group had gathered to celebrate. Considering that fact that this group is pretty sectarian, it was good to see everyone enjoying themselves. I paid like $4 for a Mohito, which was absolutely delicious. As we were trying to flag a cab to get home, a cop decided to be a jerk, so there was a little altercation which included, at one point, me screaming that he was a fascist communist pig. But we made it home, and this morning my friend and I made scrambled eggs; it was the best we could do considering that there aren’t really diners/pancake houses in this town. Come to think of it, they don’t even really have pancakes in Romania, though they do have almost everything else.

Funerals: I haven’t really been to one, but in Romania, no problem, because they come to you! The town I’m living in is kinda a mix between modern and provincial. When there is a funeral here, there is a big procession through the streets. At the front are people walking with some holding a large wooden cross with something draped over it. Then there is a band, mostly guys with big old tubas and horns, which plays a rather morose marching melody. Then comes the dead guy. He rides in a box with a plastic or canvass top, face showing, on the back of a flatbed truck, surrounded by flowers. As the procession moves down the street, people come out from the houses along the road, mostly standing by the gate or leaning out the window, and pay their respects by watching for a few minutes. It’s really surreal, especially how you hear the music before you even see the front of the procession, so you know it’s coming…

About nine in the evening last week I was walking back to my house from the bar/internet cafe (one place.) Behind me I could hear the clop clop clop of a horse trotting down the road. As it got nearer I could also hear the jingle jingle of the bells hanging from its blinders. It was pulling a wooden cart, which is common here, that was piled high with hay fresh from the field. A few young teenage boys were sitting atop the hay, talking and smoking a little. As the cart passed I got a deep smell of the hay which was absolutely beautiful and I stopped to watch the cart and the hay and the boys move down the street.

Well, it has been quite a while since the last update, so there is much to report.

First of all, I feel that I’ve not really been saying much about Romania. In all honesty, for the first few weeks here, I was not really here, instead still very much in Uzbekistan. But it has been over a month, and though its been difficult, I’m now more ready than ever to commit myself to Romania for two years.

I am writing this post from inside one of the two schools at which I will be teaching. This past weekend, all the volunteers from this group gathered to meet their counterparts. Just yesterday, I traveled with them to what will be, beginning August 5th, my new (new new new new …) home.

Here is a map breakdown:

The first map should be helpful because is shows Romania in relationship to not only the rest of Europe, but also Central Asia. The second map shows exactly where my new city, Targu Mures, is located. As you can see, the city sits right in the middle of Transylvania. The pictures of the schools should give you and idea of how old they are. I’ve heard from many people that these two schools are the best in the city and well respected throughout the country.

So really, pretty much everything here is different than Uzbekistan. Let’s start with the banal – weather. Whereas in Uzbekistan, summertime meant no rain, here it’s rained nearly every day. And I’m not talking about a drizzle, but intense rains. In fact, yesterday, once I arrived at what will be my host family for the first two months here, it hailed. Sadly, this has meant that much of Romania is flooding, causing huge damages.

Culturally, Romania is also very different from Uzbekistan. I am going to need more time for a thorough analysis of this issue, but what I can say is that there are a lot of different influences flowing through this society. For instance, although most of the country is made up of Romanians, there is a substantial Hungarian minority. In fact, in my city, the breakdown is about 60-40. This means, on a larger scale, that I’ll get access to not just one, but two distinct cultures, and, on a smaller scale, that I’ll have to learn a little Hungarian in addition to Romanian… There is also a large Gypsy population throughout the country. I will write more about the Gypsies here later.

In regards to language, Romanian is complex but logical. For instance, all nouns have a gender, and plurals follow only loose rules. But, my Latin background (4 years in HS) is giving me a bit of the boost; it’s hard, but for the most part, it makes sense. I have higher expectations of myself regarding learning this language than I did in Uzbekistan.

What I can say so far is that this country is full of extremes and contradictions. For instance, the other day when I had to go to the train station with another volunteer from my training town, as I opened the gate to my house, I saw here coming up the street in a carutsa. A carutsa is a horse drawn wooden carriage – and a common site outside of most of the major cities here. Just the previous day, though, I was taken shopping with my family. We went to a place called Sellgros, which was on the outskirts of a nearby city. The store was much like a Costco or Sam’s Club; it had everything (including an impressive liquor display,) and everything was in bulk. It was packed with not only products ready to be consumed, but also consumers.

Walking down the streets, everyone looks amazing – funky outfits, gelled hair, the latest, greatest, and most annoying cell phones. But we’ve been told by numerous people, that often this exterior glamor comes at the cost of a poorly stocked refrigerator at home. So it’s difficult to understand – how much of what I see really is? and where does priority lay for different individuals? I hope that as I explore the history of this place (and man, there’s lots of it,) that I will better come to understand where this society is now, and in what ways it views its future.

As the general English level here is much higher, I’m beginning to feel that my work will be more rewarding for me as a teacher, and that I’ll be able to get into the complex issues, debates and modes of artistic expression that help shape an informed modern citizen. Though I must admit, the immediacy of need here does not feel as great, and I still think of the young Uzbeks who have few if no alternative avenues to learn about the world beyond their borders. But life is a trade off, a compromise. Here I am and I can do it.

From Romania,