Knobs

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It started about two weeks ago when I noticed that the floorboards near the radiators in both the living room and bedroom were wet. Upon further investigation, I found a slow leak from the area around the knob which controls the flow of hot water into the units. Not knowing what else to do, I set up buckets and string, so that the water would travel down the string and into the waiting buckets. This was working fine, but was obviously a temporary solution.

Then, two days ago, when my landlord came with the month’s bills, I showed him the problem. He seemed worried, and was a little testy, admonishing me for having turned the knobs. Apparently one should not turn such knobs. He said he would look into the problem. Then, when I returned from school today, I found the buckets gone; the problem had been repaired. Also was a little note, headlined “Mett” (his understanding of my name,) asking me to never touch the knobs.

Just a few minutes ago he came by to collect my payment for the bills, adding that the radiator repair would cost an extra 20 RON ($7.50.) I was hesitant, and did not immediately hand over the money. He looked at me and began to explain what had happened. He had called up the people responsible for such things and begged them to come right over. Apparently two men came to the apartment and repaired the problem without much ado. He then went on to explain that if the problem had been worse, it would have cost $500 to repair, because the heating system for the entire apartment bloc would have to be shut off and drained.

Now, although he had fixed the problem, and quickly, I was reluctant to pay because I did not feel responsible for having caused this situation. Sometimes the heat would get too hot, and I’d use the knob to reduce the amount of hot water being piped into the radiator. This is, as far as I am concerned, the function of the knob. I was annoyed that my landlord was insinuating that I had caused this problem by some sort of negligence. Although my use of the knob resulted in the leak, my use of the knob fell well within the realm of normal behavior. Therefore, I saw this as a defect in the apartment’s hardware, and believed that he, as landlord, should pay to rectify it.

Unfortunately, this made him a bit upset. He appeared to think that my refusal to pay was based on a belief that he was a liar. Although he didn’t get rude, he was a bit testy, to which I felt compelled to respond. However, when you are arguing in a foreign language you know only so well, you are bound to lose; perhaps I should have thought of this before raising any sign of doubt regarding the payment. Sensing that I may have caused some damage to our relationship, I did manage to say clearly, “I will pay, we will drink, and that will be all.”

So I paid, we drank a shot of brandy and that was not quite it. He again reminded me, rightly so, that he knows how to get things fixed here. This is true, as he has indeed been helpful in the past. I realized that we were talking about two different things; I viewed the issue as a matter of responsibility, he saw it as one of trust. So I made clear that I trusted him and was grateful for his service, and then he left.

I still think, though, that this leak was his responsibility. Imagine a light fixture falling from your ceiling and you are then accused of causing this damage based on the mere fact that you had used the fixture. In a way, it was he who lacked trust in me. But then again, the mistrust runs so deep here that I ought not be surprised. It was an interesting moment for sure. Did I do right?

Tuica, Zwack and Improv

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The first major event I’d like to write about is my parents’ visit to Romania! Upon joining the Peace Corps, I left with the expectation that I would not see them until returning over two years later. Well, given that things in Uzbekistan didn’t work out and I found myself in Romania, the possibility for a visit increased significantly. Luckily they were able to find time to jet all the way over here for a week! All in all, the visit was a success, though not without a few snags; but as far as things go here in the far east of Europe, there were no major disasters. I decided to put my parents up at the Hotel Concordia, the snazzy hotel in town.

Although the service was friendly (by Romanian standards,) and the rooms spacious and clean, there was one particularly odd thing about the hotel, its artwork. You see, someone had gotten the bright idea that they would hire two models, one male and the other female, and take a bunch of shots of the two posing in and around the hotel. The result was a somewhat disturbing mixture of thinly veiled references to sexual acts, sexual organs and physical abuse. This image appeared on the wall behind the bed in the room. As you can see, the Romanian male (fly unzipped and shirtless) is lording over his female as she lays splayed across the spiral staircase….

After this rather awkward discovery, though, we explored the hotel’s sauna which was quite nice. The following day we visited my school, and my folks sat in on a few classes. Looking back, I think this was one of the true highlights of the trip, as my parents finally got to see what it is I actually do here! Luckily on that day I had a class with my 12th graders, my favorite class. Since I worked with them extensively last year and continue to do so this year, we have developed a close relationship. Add to that the fact that they are all very bright and (most of the time) hard working, and the result is a very fun and intellectually stimulating class. We talked that day about Edgar Allan Poe’s Tell Tale Heart, unreliable narrators, and the meaning of madness.

For the rest of that day and the next we spent time enjoying the city of Targu Mures. Unfortunately the weather was rather lousy, but we were able to make the best of it. Some highlights included visiting the local synagogue and speaking with the man there who is in charge of the small and aged Jewish community that remains in the area. He was a gracious host, giving us a small tour of the old building and some materials in English. During the entire time he tried to speak with my parents in multiple languages (German, French, Russian, Hebrew, etc.) but in the end I had to serve a translator – a job for which I was entirely unsuited. Nonetheless it was a sobering and touching moment.

I can not, however, say the same for the local museums. When we entered the first, our local museum of natural history, the handyman had to turn on all of the lights for us. After the lady sold us our tickets, she followed us around the entire place as we looked at the dated exhibits. She exhibited a typical (and highly irritating) Romanian behavior which is to follow one around at a short distance without offering any sort of chit-chat. This behavior can be witnessed in stores and other areas; while following you at a distance of about two meters, the clerk eyes you as if you are going to steal or break something any minute. After we finished our look about, one member of our party had to use the facilities to which she replied that none were available to guests. I had to bite my tongue and give here a sincere “va rog” (the formal form of please,) and she graciously relented… that’s Romanian hospitality for you.

Additionally, during their time here in town, they were able to meet a few local personalities, friends of mine from work and the Peace Corps. I won’t say more other than that this was another of the highlights of the trip. As a tourist, one doesn’t really interact with the locals at a certain level, but as a PCV, I have a certain privileged level of access, and I was glad to share that.

Since my life in my little bloc apartment is far from pretty (it’s not bad, but apartment life doesn’t compare to one and a half wooded acres,) I decided that we should pay a visit to my original host family from the town of Rasnov. So we headed down to Brasov by train. Now, getting from Brasov to Rasnov (which is about 15 minutes outside of the city,) was something that I did multiple times during our training. We would go by one of three means, a local train, a bus, or hitchhiking. Since I was familiar with all of these methods, I figured that surely we would be able to catch either the train or bus. However, upon examination of the train schedule, it appeared that service had been curtailed, and the next train was not for another few hours. We then stood at what used to be the bus station for about a half hour, only to watch 3 busses headed in our direction whiz by with nary a sign of slowing down anywhere in the vicinity.

This led me to the conclusion that the bus station had been moved – again, a familiar occurrence in Romania. This left us with two choices, either taking a taxi and paying through the nose, or doing it like the locals did and hitchin’ a ride. Luckily for us, after about 10 minutes of arm waving a new car pulled over and offered to take us to our destination. Needless to say, my parents were a little shocked (they admitted that they hadn’t hitchhiked since the 60’s) but the ride was uneventful. I was only sorry that were weren’t picked up in an old Dacia, the Communist-era Romanian rust bucket.

Our welcome in Rasnov, was, however, redemptive of any museum experiences. Immediately offered a starter plate of cheeses, meats and tuica (plum brandy,) we dug into a simple yet hearty meal. During this time my parents were able to meet the lady who affectionately called herself my adoptive Romanian mother!

Unfortunately, my adoptive mom’s daughter (I guess that would make her my sister,) was still at work, so we decided to forgo the trek to the ruins of a walled city atop the town hill. This, however, was a grave disappointment to my adoptive Romanian mother, so some phone calls were made, and soon she was home from work early. Now at this point, I have to explain that the road up to the fortress is not in great shape, in fact it is pocked and steep. It is just the kind of road that our Jeep Cherokee never saw for its 6+ year lifespan. However, my adoptive Romanian sister seemed to have no qualms taking her Daewoo Matiz straight to the top. After some absolutely stunning views from the fortress, we were taken to a secluded remote area where bungee jumping is offered in warmer months. On top of that we given a ride all the way back to Brasov! It was a really brilliant example of hospitality.

The following day was to consist of a simple sequence of events. We were to travel from Brasov to the Medieval German town of Sighisoara, sightsee for a few hours, and then catch the minibus back to Targu Mures. Then, with a few hours to spare, we were to head out to the local airport, and catch a quick flight to Budapest where we were to spend the weekend. However, this was not to be. On the road from Sighisoara to Targu Mures there was a horrible accident which backed up traffic for miles. Two trucks had somehow collided (Romanian roads are one way in each direction and thus lots of high speed passing occurs,) and completely blocked the roadway.

Sadly, the driver of the smaller truck had been killed, and I as walked up to the scene of the accident to investigate, saw him lying on the ground. Although this was a great tragedy, people had places to go, and the accident ought to have been cleared within an hour. However, as this is Romania, nothing gets done quite as quickly as one would like. Therefore, it was three hours later that the badly damaged truck was winched out of the way and the road was re-opened. We, of course, missed our flight, and as a result of this and the three hour wait in a cramped minibus, were not in the greatest of moods. This was the low point. But when we stopped to analyze our situation, that is, having missed a budget flight, we realized that it was minor compared to the awful misfortune that awaited the family of the deceased truck driver. Re-gaining our wits, we decided that the only option was to return to Sighisoara and take the overnight train into Budapest.

And we arrived! I believe it was my parents’ first time in a sleeping car. Was it the most comfortable night ever? No. But was it an adventure? Most definitely. Upon arrival in Budapest we taxied it to the Marriott, and I relinquished my role as guide and became a mere tourist! The hotel was fantastic, and our rooms overlooked the Danube and the Buda hills. For this and the next day we saw the sights, visited the Turkish baths, ate at fine restaurants (sushi included!!) and did a little shopping. It was relaxing, if too short lived.

After our final goodbyes Sunday night, my parents returned to the good ole US of A on Monday morning, and I, dear reader, boarded a train headed to Romania. And so the story continues…

Photo Gallery

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Hey all, back from a long and draining few days out of town… it’s been a busy few weeks here! Lots to say, and I promise to do so soon – same goes for any unanswered emails. And, I proudly announce a new photo gallery. I got a bit fed up with the system I was using before, Telekorn, because it was drawing a bunch of sql errors. I’ve migrated to Coppermine, an open source solution. All is online (including new pictures from my parents’ visit,) but the layout is still being tweeked. I’m off to bed, goodnight now,

Rumsferatu (thanks Mike)

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Although the recent bout of scandals involving dumb-ass hypocritical Republicans continues to grab the headlines, it is important to remember what is going on in Iraq and who is responsible. In what appears to be a major move, the Army Times group of newspapers is publishing an Editorial calling for the removal of Donald Rumsfeld. According to SFGate’s Ross Report, where the advance copy was first made available, the papers are sold to all American servicemen and are a subsidiary of Gannett Company, the media conglomerate which is responsible for papers such as USA Today and 90 other dailies.

Here is the text of the editorial:

Time for Rumsfeld to go

“So long as our government requires the backing of an aroused and informed public opinion … it is necessary to tell the hard bruising truth.”

That statement was written by Pulitzer Prize-winning war correspondent Marguerite Higgins more than a half-century ago during the Korean War.

But until recently, the “hard bruising” truth about the Iraq war has been difficult to come by from leaders in Washington.

One rosy reassurance after another has been handed down by President Bush, Vice President Cheney and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld: “mission accomplished,” the insurgency is “in its last throes,” and “back off,” we know what we’re doing, are a few choice examples.

Military leaders generally toed the line, although a few retired generals eventually spoke out from the safety of the sidelines, inciting criticism equally from anti-war types, who thought they should have spoken out while still in uniform, and pro-war foes, who thought the generals should have kept their critiques behind closed doors.

Now, however, a new chorus of criticism is beginning to resonate. Active-duty military leaders are starting to voice misgivings about the war’s planning, execution and dimming prospects for success.

Army Gen. John Abizaid, chief of U.S. Central Command, told a Senate Armed Services Committee in September: “I believe that the sectarian violence is probably as bad as I’ve seen it … and that if not stopped, it is possible that Iraq could move towards civil war.”

Last week, someone leaked to The New York Times a Central Command briefing slide showing an assessment that the civil conflict in Iraq now borders on “critical” and has been sliding toward “chaos” for most of the past year. The strategy in Iraq has been to train an Iraqi army and police force that could gradually take over for U.S. troops in providing for the security of their new government and their nation.

But despite the best efforts of American trainers, the problem of molding a viciously sectarian population into anything resembling a force for national unity has become a losing proposition.

For two years, American sergeants, captains and majors training the Iraqis have told their bosses that Iraqi troops have no sense of national identity, are only in it for the money, don’t show up for duty and cannot sustain themselves.

Meanwhile, colonels and generals have asked their bosses for more troops. Service chiefs have asked for more money.

And all along, Rumsfeld has assured us that things are well in hand.

Now, the president says he’ll stick with Rumsfeld for the balance of his term in the White House.

This is a mistake. It is one thing for the majority of Americans to think Rumsfeld has failed. But when the nation’s current military leaders start to break publicly with their defense secretary, then it is clear that he is losing control of the institution he ostensibly leads.

These officers have been loyal public promoters of a war policy many privately feared would fail. They have kept their counsel private, adhering to more than two centuries of American tradition of subordination of the military to civilian authority.

And although that tradition, and the officers’ deep sense of honor, prevent them from saying this publicly, more and more of them believe it.

Rumsfeld has lost credibility with the uniformed leadership, with the troops, with Congress and with the public at large. His strategy has failed, and his ability to lead is compromised. And although the blame for our failures in Iraq rests with the secretary, it will be the troops who bear its brunt.

This is not about the midterm elections. Regardless of which party wins Nov. 7, the time has come, Mr. President, to face the hard bruising truth:

Donald Rumsfeld must go.

There is also a forum for discussion of the article located HERE. The discussion has just started, so get your two cents in now.