Changing Time Zones

So it's coming up on the 7th anniversary of my HUGE life change, picking up with 3 small kids and moving to the other side of the planet.  It's a daunting task for people without kids, much less someone with a 6 year old, 4 year old and 18 month old baby.  Unfortunately for  me, at that time there didn't exist a lot in the way of Ex-Pat forums, pages, sites etc.  But with more and more people leaving their homeland in search of some more attainable utopia than what they were born into, there are ex-pat communities springing up all over the place online.

  One such site is  http://www.expat.com  It has a plethora of information for those looking to make a big move or for those who have already made the move and are looking for ex-pat in their new surroundings.  Unfortunately for myself, there is not a large amount of expat in my neck of the woods.  But there is a lot of informed and interesting people I've met in these online expat communities.  I've been able to both give and receive needed advice.

  One question that most expat or rather soon to be expat always ask, is "what is the bed advice you can give as to how to adapt to a new place and culture.  My response is always the same.  You gotta look at the new environment for what it is, NEW.  It's outside of your normal, outside of your comfort zone sometimes.  You will have overwhelming bouts of homesickness sometimes because you just miss what you know as normal, and comfortable, but it will pass.  You gotta try to find the beauty in everything around you.  If you only see a half empty glass you'll have a half empty life.  But if you find the good in everything, and put "home" into an international perspective, you'll see that life is basically the same everywhere, just with cultural differences.  Keep your sense of adventure.  Walk into life with arms wide open.

Harvest time

So as you know I've moved out to the sticks.  Well it's time to gather all the goodies that were planted in the spring.  Not to mention making the wine!!!!!

I've picked 1 1/2 hectares of corn.  And cut about 1 hectare of corn stalks.  Still got another 1/2 hectare to cut & bundle.  Corn gathering is hard work and takes all day.  But my chickens have food, I've got cornmeal, and fuel for fire.

This week I'm helping 2 neighbors pick their grapes, then they'll help me with mine.  Then I get to be Lucy from the episode where she went to Italy .....you know what I'm talking about.  Must have CLEAN feet!!!!

Anyway here's a few picks of my corn crib and the corn I've still got to put in the crib!!!

Why Lord?

As I mentioned a while back we bought a house with land.

Well I was planning on moving this week but God has decided otherwise.

our house is not easy to get to under normal weather conditions, its up on a hill

where thw one lane roads are just dirt and rocks. well it finally. decided to start snowing and raining This week. couldn't snow for Christmas or new year. Nope, had to wait till I need to move. Grrrrrrrrrrr :-Q

Looking Back

  So I wanted to go back, since, well, I've never given my first impressions of Romania.  And yes, even though it's been nearly 3 years since my arrival here, I still remember very vividly my initial thoughts and feelings.  So let's go back to January 20, 2009, the day we arrived, the same day that Obama was sworn in too, oddly enough.

  So we arrived in Bucuresti with our 3 kids in tow.  Kelly was 6, Isabel was 4, and Paul was 18 months old. We'd been traveling for about 17 hours total.  Paul developed air sickness in the form of diarrhea - FUN, and I'm sure the flight attendants just LOVED me when it was time to clean out the trash bins.  :/

  Anyway, so there we were with 2 carts FULL of all our luggage.  My hubby had lost his passport and was traveling with a Embassy Travel Document.  He'd not had a visa to be in the U.S., and the border agent asked him if he'd had one, he was honest and said no, we were told to wait a minute.  The agent came out from the booth and as he passed Marius, he told him quietly:  "your lucky.  my boss left early today."  He went into a little office, and a few minutes later came out and gave us all our documents back.  He told Marius, look I fixed it in the computer that you DID have a visa.  They'll stop you again before you get to the lobby, if they ask if you had a visa say yes.  *whew*

  We weren't stopped again.  There were military guards by the doors to exit the airport, they looked straight at us, Marius was sweating bullets, I wasn't worried, I think it was a mixture of exhaustion, and over-wrought emotions.  The guards, instead of stopping us, sent an airport worker to help us get our bags to the car.  Marius' 2 brothers and his sister were there waiting for us.  Marius hadn't seen his family in over 12 years.  It was a bit of an emotional roller-coaster ride standing there in the airport.

  So off to the rental van we went.  We arrived at 4:45 p.m. - can we say RUSH HOUR?!?  It took us 4 hours just to get out of Bucuresti.  What should have been a 4-5 hour drive took 7.  We didn't arrive at my mother in laws house till 2 a.m.  By this time we'd been travelling well over 24 hours.  There waiting for us was of course my mother in law, one of my other sister in laws, and her nephew who lives with MIL in a TINY 2 room apartment.  So there we were, 11 people crammed into a 300 sq.ft. apartment.  Yeah.  Claudiu, the baby, left to go back to Bucuresti, where he lives with his wife, their son and his in-laws.  Vali the brother under Marius and his wife, went back to their house there in Tulcea.  All that was left, were me, Marius, our 3 kids, Elena, Marius' sister, and Vali's son, Cristi.  So we crammed ourselves into the beds and sofa beds to sleep.  The next day I felt like I was in a dream.  It was the dead middle of winter. Everything was stark and grey.  I could see the beauty beneath the harsh veneer of Soviet style architecture.  Old cobblestone roads.  It was quite an experience.

  Marius took me to Piata Noua, the farmer's market. we were besieged by dirty little kids begging for money.  Marius ignored them, I started digging in mine and his pockets to give them some change.  One night, Me, Marius his brother Vali and his wife Cati (Cathy), went to a local restaraunt to have a coffee.  While we were sitting there, a little ran up to the table, my sister in law yelled at her, then one of the men who worked there, came out yelling at her, chasing her out, and kicked her in the behind as she ran for the door.  I was shocked.  I put my head down and tried not to cry, but I couldn't help it, the tears welled up in my eyes.  Evidently Marius or one of my in-laws noticed the change in my composure, and Marius looked at me and asked what it was, and I said, what was that?  Why did he kick that little girl.  It was a gypsy kid.  I knew that.  Marius explained they have a bad habit of running up to your table and grabbing whatever is on the table, or a purse, jacket, whatever.  I was near the window, and none of my stuff was accessible, which was good, since I had mine and the kids passports in my purse.  I told Marius I understood the concern, but it was still no reason to kick a CHILD, gypsy or not.  My in-laws at first didn't understand why I was so upset, but when Marius explained to them, that a child is still a child regardless of whether it's a gypsy or not.  They told me to wait till I'd been here a few years, stuff like that wouldn't phase me anymore.  Say sorry sai, but they were right.  After having my kids picked on by gyspy kids who live in our bloc, or CONSTANTLY come to my door begging, it doesn't phase me.  I've even had to yell at them.  They would come to our door, I would give them some money, or some bread, or fruit, well then they started coming EVERYDAY, sometimes 2-3 times a day.  Enough was enough.  I would tell them I didn't have anything, and really I didn't; and would close the door, they would knock again, again I would say "N-am nimic.  Imi pare rau." (I don't have anything.  I'm sorry).  Close the door, yet AGAIN they would ring the bell.  That was enough, I was being taken for a fool, so I opened the door, and said loudly "N-am!  PLECA DE AICI!"  (I don't have anything, GET OUT OF HERE!)  They don't come to my door everyday anymore.  Maybe once a month.  Usually when the seasons change and I clean out the kids clothes for things they've outgrown or messed up, I bag it up, and when they come to the door, I give them the clothes.

  Gypsies aside.  I noticed a difference in people's attitude here as well.  People here are very guarded, for good reason 40+ years of Communism makes you guarded.  I would smile at people we passed on the street, and I kept noticing that they would look at me strangely, especially the men, older ones in particular.  I mentioned this to Marius; "Do people not smile here?  I mean I smile at people when we pass them, and they look at me like I'm crazy or something."  Marius asked what I meant, and we had just passed an older man.  I told him, well, when we passed that man I smiled at him, and he looked at me funny.  Marius laughed and said that usually when a woman smiles at a man, she's telling him that she's available.  I stopped smiling.

  Life moves slower here.  At least in Tulcea.  In the larger cities like Bucuresti, maybe it moves at a faster pace like in the U.S., I don't know.  But I like it here.  In the spring and summer the landscape is lush with green and flowers.  Lots of birds, especially here in the delta area.  Winter is dismal and harsh, but there's still beauty to be found, even in the bleakness, especially when the city is laying under a blanket of white!

  Like I said, those first few days felt like some sort of waking dream.  I'd just left everything and everyone I'd ever known and moved halfway around the world, where everything was different. And I didn't understand a word being said.  But it was cool, I noticed things that people here didn't notice anymore.  Things Marius had never noticed the whole time he was growing up here.  He got to see his hometown with new eyes too.

Americans: What NOT to do abroad....

Okay, so this post is mainly for you younger people - you know who I mean....You college age kids whose parents are footing the bill for your adventure in Europe.

Rule 1:  It is NOT necessary for you to talk loudly everywhere you go.  This is NOT the U.S., people here in Europe don't want to hear your conversations.  While you may think that they don't understand English - they DO.  They just pretend to be stupid so they don't have to converse with YOU!

Rule 2:  If you absolutely insist on speaking loudly, at least speak with some appearance of intelligence.  The word 'like' is not a conjunctive word.  It does not need to be used, like, every other, like, 2 words, or like, whatever.....  The Valley Girl girl slang died a quick death back in the 80's, so please leave your 'Fast Times at Ridgemont High' mentality at home in the U.S.
*Note:  History is NOT stupid.  Those who don't study history are doomed to repeat it.  If that's the case then I feel sorry for myself when I get old as you idiots will be the ones in charge.  *sheesh*

Rule 3:  IT'S EUROPE, It's NOT the U.S., so NO, the rooms aren't going to be big like back home, and yes, the water heater has to be plugged in at least 2 hours prior to bathing.  AND DON"T USE YOUR FLAT IRON here - unless you want to knock out the power to at least 10 city blocks!

Rule 4:  Just because your daddy paid for your little adventure doesn't mean you are better than anyone else.  It doesn't mean YOU are wealthy, it just means your dad is an idiot for giving you everything you want instead of making you earn the money yourself.

Last Rule:  If you can't behave like a nice, quiet, intelligent, civilised human being, than for God's sake, and all us ex-pats actually living in abroad, JUST STAY in the U.S.

♪♫Waiting For The Man♪♫

....well that's how David Bowie put it anyway.  Albeit 'The Man' in Bowie's classic is NOT the same 'Man' I've been waiting on.  No - no smack for me, thank you very much.

..No, the man I've been waiting on, well several anyway, is an arm of the Romanian government. Yes, I do love it here, but there are situations where my love and adoration is caught in a 'Catch-22'..... *sigh*

Okay, so Marius came home 2 weeks ago  for his vacation.  We went to the D.M.V., or the RO version anyway, to see what was needed to change our drivers licenses from U.S. to RO ones.  Marius had gone about 2 years ago, and was told we would have to take an exam, and that you could study and practice online - Marius didn't even pass the online exams - I guess they want the drivers here to be Einstein's - if you meet a RO with a RO drivers license I can guarantee they KNOW how to drive, and drive safely, even if their driving looks a bit scary.

So on this visit, we were told NO, we did NOT have to take exams, we did however have to have the following:
1.  Our original U.S. licenses
2.  Copies of our D.L.'s, and copies of ID cards (mine being issued by Immigration)
3.  Translations of our D.L.'s into ROmanian, which had to be notarized.
4.  Medical Visitis (which included a Psych eval; sorta)
5.  Taxes to be paid
6. Criminal background check (which included paying more taxes at another place)
7.  A notarized declaration stating, that our D.L.'s were real, not revoked, no outstanding warrants on them, etc.)

The criminal background check for me wasn't ready till today.  Marius was able to get all of his turned in last week - literally the day before he left.  It took us close to 2 weeks to get all of this done.  My background check took 4 days because I'm American, and mine had to be done in Bucuresti, unlike Marius' which was done locally here in Tulcea.

So anyway, I get up this morning, head on over to the Police Station to see if my Cazere (background check) was in, and it was, I then head straight over to the D.M.V., since I have everything else. I got there at around 9:15.  There was already a HUGE line ahead of me.  So I waited around for a few minutes, then I notice that the first hour (9-10) was for the people taking exams.  So I decide to walk next door to talk to my sister in law, who works at a pet store there.  We drank a coffee, and then I hiked back across Piata Ciuvica, and across the street to get to the Romtelecom offices to pay my home phone, cable, and internet bill, then walk back over to the D.M.V.  It is now 10 a.m. and the same people are still in line.  I thought about leaving and just coming back at 2 p.m.  Cause the offices close at 1 for lunch, and re-open at 2.  Glad I didn't.  After waiting for nearly 2 hours, the guy (actually the dept. boss) looks at everything and notices MY declaration is incomplete.  It was exactly the same at Marius'!!  Well according to law, because I'm not a RO citizen my declaration needed to cite a few laws and say a few more things.  GRRRRRR...... WHY DIDN'T THEY TELL US THAT WHEN MARIUS WAS HOME?!?!?

  So off I go to the Notary, and bring them the wording, and law citations and attempt to explain that MY declaration needs to say such and such.  They say it will take half an hour.  It's 12:40 - I explain I need to get home, my kids are there waiting on me, and that I would come back at 2.  PERFECT! the lady says!

  Okay, before your panties twisted in a knot, it's acceptable and normal here to leave your kids alone in the house for a few hours.  That and they are old enough to stay alone.

  So I grab them some snacks they begged me for and head home.  I get home just before 1.  I've also got to go to the P.O., cause I have a package from the U.S. there.  I can only pick up pkgs from outside the E.U. at a certain P.O. on certain days, Mondays & Thrusdays, and then only between 1-3 in the afternoon.  So I hang up the laundry I washed, grab all my stuff and head back out the door at 1:40.  Arrive at P.O. at 1:45, get package, which was from a friend I haven't heard from in ages. She made my girls some very pretty hair bows.  So now back to the notary.  I arrive there at 2:03, and notice the notary headed out as I'm headed in. *grrrrrr*.  They give me the declaration, along with the paper the dude at the DMV gave me, make sure everything is correct, and give it back to them.  Now I have to wait an HOUR for the notary to come back - why didn't she tell me the notary would be leaving at 2 - I could've come back at 1:30.

  So 3 o'clock rolls around, and here comes the notary.  They take care of me first (thank God), and I pay for their services and head on over to the DMV.  Now the guy told me to come back in the morning with the new declaration, but I said, "Nah, let me just go ahead and get this over with now".  So I go in, hand it to him, everything is good!  I take my picture, sign what I have to sign, and he then tells me it will be mailed to me within about 15 days.  I ask him for the temp. license; a piece of paper that I show (if stopped) to the po-po proving that I have permission to drive, just waiting on the actual license.  He doesn't have any, and that I have to come again in the morning around 10 or 10:30, so his co-worker can fill it out!  So now I understand why he said to come back in the morning.

  *****SSSSSSSIIIIIIIIIGGGGGGGHHHHHHH*****

  So about the medical visit, which included seeing a shrink.  We get to the medical place at around 9, give our info, pay the fees, and  are told to go across the hall.  Another doctor comes out grabs us, hurries up and takes our info.  signs off where he has to sign off - that he examined us, and we're cool.  Then tells us to hurry up and go over to the shrink - who is in the mental hospital, which is right next door to our apartment building coincidentally, but to hurry, she will be closing her office at 10, it's 9:30.  So off we run, park the car at 9:40, run around, and finally find this woman's office, we walk in at 10 min. to 10.  I say hello, and give her my ID, Marius explains we're there for the fisa for prescimbare permis de conducre.  She takes my ID, and looks at it, and asks "what is this" to herself. Marius says "Ea este Americanca".  It was hysterical.  She immediately puts the card down, and hurries up and fills out our fisa, and signs it.  We then go to the eye doctor, who was late coming in.  I get in there, and I have to read the very last line.  Now, in Romanian they don't have names for the letters - they just say the ABC's by their sound.  So there I am BUTCHERING the letters, and I guess the doctor and the nurse kinda looked at each other and at Marius a little funny, cause he again explains "She's American, and still learning the language".  "AH!  Bine.  She's okay!"  I'm done.

Now if this would have been Marius on his own doing all this, he would have gotten nothing but ATTITUDE from everyone at every Dr.'s office, ever place to pay taxes, EVERYWHERE, but because his wife, the AMERICANCA was with him, well they were just a sweet as sugar, sweeter maybe, if that's possible.  This is that catch-22 I was talking about.  You have to run around like a chicken with its head cut-off to get anything done here, but because I'm AMERICAN, it goes easier for me and Marius, for the most part anyway.  Oh that and you can get things done faster with bribery.  Yesh, I know that goes on everywhere, but it seems to be more open and blatant here, which again is a good thing and a bad thing.

I asked Marius, why the DMV didn't just do it like they do back home, you know put the little eye checker's there, and pay everything there.  And WHY all the medical sign-offs?  I was like it would make things much easier for everyone.  He looked at me and said, cause if they did that, they couldn't get your money, and he's right.  It cost us right around $500 for the two of us to get our licenses.

Romania I LOVE YOU, but at the same time, you make me crazy!

What I ♥ about Romania

  I've been here in the old Eastern Bloc for nearly 3 years now.  Yes there are things about back home that miss, mainly my family, the rest of it...meh.  But here's what & why I love living in Romania.

1.  Romania is peaceful.
      Romania has a long history, with it's share of violence, but none that she herself started.  Since it's inception, WAYYY back in the day.  Romania had 1 thing on her mind:  how to live a good and peaceful life.  She never sought world domination.  Instead she was attacked and plundered by the Ottoman's - who she eventually overthrew (the only country I know of that did that during that time) thanks to Vlad Tepes, a.k.a. Vlad the Impaler, or for you 'Twilight' freaks - Dracula.  Then came the Romans, who were in this country only a short time - the shortest of all their occupations.  Then later came the Soviets and the only way that they really kept Moscow out of their business was to be even harsher in their policies than the Russians themselves.  And now - the E.U.....but I'll save that for another post.
     Romanians have a mentality of "let those fools take care of themselves, we've got ourselves to think of".  And in that I think they are right.  They don't want to get involved in physical or cultural wars.  They just want to live a good life, one that doesn't involve scraping by, or constantly fighting.  For this they have an enormous amount of my respect.  But this has also made them weak in the sense that it allows countries and politicians that are perceived as more wealthy or powerful to prey up on this intrinsically rich country.

2.  Romania is old fashioned.
      Travel through a little village (Satu) here in Romania, and you will still see horse drawn carts, horses and mules being used to plow fields.  The old ladies cutting funny looking plants to boil into a tea to cure an ailment.  The ways of the past live on here.  Yes technology is here as well, otherwise, well I wouldn't be blogging now would I.  But it doesn't permeate every facet of life here, and for this I'm grateful.  I don't have to rely soley on whatever crack-pot calls themselves a doctor here (at least in Tulcea anyway), I can talk to the old ladies in my neighborhood and they will tell me exactly what I need to do in order to cure a cold, or kidney stones, or liver or kidney problems - and they work!  LOVE THEM OLD LADIES!!!!

3.  Romania is Beautiful
     Romania has some truly gorgeous landscapes.  Granted the sovietic style architecture detracts from the beauty to be found along the coast of the black sea, and in the cities.  But out in the country, there are mountains, hillsides, everything.  It's untouched.  Now there is a MAJOR problem with littering here.  For some reason or other the people here have no qualms about leaving trash on the streets or sidewalks.  I don't understand that.  It makes the country look poor and ugly, and it's really not.  Another thing that would help, especially in the cities, is if they learned what landscaping is.  Yes, the blocs of apartments are old and ugly, but some fresh paint on the buildings and fences, put in some grass, bushes and flowers, and you could really make it pretty.  Everyone in the building could chip in to renovate the outside to look as good as what they've renovated inside their own apartments.

4.  Romania is "Centrally" located.....
     ......well at least to all the places in Europe I have always wanted to visit.  Italy is only a 2 hour flight away.  Germany, about the same.  Odessa, Ukraine is only a few hundred kilometers by boat or car. I want to see the city with my name, mainly so I can steal the sign that says "Welcome To Odessa", even if it is in Cyrillic! ;p  Turkey, specifically Istanbul is just across the black sea, or a 1 day trip by bus.  France isn't too far either.  Ireland - I think I will save the home of my ancestors for last, cause I really want to take my time there, and enjoy it.  No I won't be having a pint of Guinness - that stuff is just awful, but I can pour you a perfect pint!


There is more to this list, but this will have to do for now.  I've stayed away from the C.T.'s cause I think most people, well Americans anyway think I'm nuts when I start sharing those!  ;p  Speaking of Americans.  I will soon follow up with a "How To Behave When In Europe" .... my last trip to Italy, made me embarrassed to be carrying a U.S. Passport, thanks to some College girls from the states.  Oy to the vey!

Starting Over (pt.1)

  January 19, 2009,4:00 p.m. Ryan Airport, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, U.S.A. 

LOADS of luggage, heavy winter coats, 2 adults, 3 small kids, 5 carry on bags.  My parents, and brother, his girlfriend, and her parents, and siblings standing near the security gate crying our good-bye's.  My kids were somewhat oblivious to what was really going on.  No matter how hard I explained that we were moving for good to Romania, that I wasn't sure if or when we would ever come back to the states, they were fine, which was good.  I was okay, holding it together, that is until my dad hugged me and wouldn't let go. 

  I could feel him holding it in, and I lost it at that point - the tears flowed, no matter how hard I tried to restrain them.  At that moment I had a fear of that being the last time I would ever see my dad's face, his kind eyes, hear is infectious laugh, and be held in strong, safe arms.  Even now thinking back on it, I get bleary eyed.

Fast forward 20 hours: January 20, 2009 4:45 p.m. Otopeni International Airport, Bucuresti, Romania
Feel like I'm in a dream.  Just watched a miracle take place with my husband's Embassy issued Travel Document, and admitting to having been in the U.S. without a visa.  Romanian Border agent fixed husband's problems in the system - so now there was no more problem.  We gather our gagillion pieces of luggage on two carts and head out into the lobby.  There we are greeted by his two brothers and one sister.  Tears of relief, and joy are flowing freely.  My husband hadn't seen his family in over 12 years.

We leave the airport at around 5:30 p.m., seven hours later, at 1 a.m. we arrive to his mother's apartment in the small city of Tulcea.  We begin to start again.  Marius takes me all over the city showing me where he went to school, where he hung out.  I met his childhood friends.  I sat in the back-seat of his brother's small Dacia bracing myself in a daze, from what I was sure was going to be a head on collision due to small streets, and people not knowing how to park properly.  I understood nothing of what was being said.

I call my dad's cell phone to let him know we made it safe and sound, and were home.  It was nearly 2 a.m. in Louisiana, I got his voice mail, and hearing the sound of his voice made me cry.  It was a big adjustment for me.  I was okay for the first 6 months or so, and all it once it all hit me.  I came home from one of the "supermarkets" and screamed at Marius because of people pushing me with their buggies, or standing right on top of me in the check-out line.  The couldn't stand back and let me pay for my items, no they had to peer around to the read out to see my total.

  I walked in, slammed the door, and dropped the bags on the floor, and started yelling "WHAT IS WRONG WITH THESE PEOPLE?!?"  Marius totally oblivious to what I was talking about, was just sitting there stunned - I never loose it like this.  I explain about the check-out line.  He explains it goes back to when it was communist, and people had to get up before the sun to get in line just to get milk and bread and the stood close to each other to keep people from cutting in line.  I said I understood that, but it wasn't communist anymore.  Then I just started yelling about how everyone was a communist - to which Marius jumps up and just holds me close. 

I wouldn't admit it to him, heck, I could barely admit it to myself, but I hated it here, I wanted to go home.  I hated everything, and everyone.  I would sit in the bathroom and cry, because I didn't know what else to do.  What it really boiled down to, was my fear of never seeing my parents again, especially my dad.  I didn't realize that was where my anger and frustration was coming from until they came to visit us in August. 

They arrived in Bucuresti, we met them at the airport, when my dad hugged me, it was similar to the hug he gave me when we left, but this time, it was "I'm holding my little girl again" hug, not a "I'm sending my little girl off into the unknown" hug.  We were all of us crying, and everyone at the airport was staring at us.  They just don't display affection like that here - I didn't care, I had my dad with me again, even if only for a week or so.

When they left, I was okay, I was at peace within.  My fear of never seeing my dad again disappeared in the airport.  I would love to see my dad's house, to sleep under his roof again, and that might still happen one day.

I had spent 8 months in a foreign place trying to understand the language the cultural difference.  Getting some of it, but missing most.  I watched as my kids quickly adapted and learned a new language.  I watched as my oldest daughter started school in a new country, while still learning new words in phrases in a language she had learned only 6 months earlier. He aptitude for language astonished me.  She was fluent within 2 months of our arrival!  My middle child learned the after resisting to learn for six months, but once she let go, and decided to learn it, she was just as quick.  My son, my baby was only 18 months old when we moved here, he was still learning English - he stopped speaking all together for a while.  Now he is speaking both - not great at his pronunciation, but he understands and speaks both!

TACI!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  So I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but the people who live above me like to fight - and loudly!!!  We have been awoke at 3 a.m. to hear the sounds of furniture being shoved around, accompanied by shouting and yelling.

  I think most of time time they are near the bathroom when the fighting starts up, as that is where it is the loudest - in my bathroom.  Then sometimes they take it to the kitchen, and the balcony just off the kitchen.  I have no clue what they are fighting about.  However one time I did hear the woman yell a very bad word at the man.  The only reason I know this word is because in English when you say 'pull-up' it sounds like this Romanian word for a mans 'member'.

 So the other day, I'm in the bathroom, giving the girls their bath, and we hear the fighting, they've been going at it for a while now, and it had been one of those days, where EVERYTHING was getting on my last nerve.  So after getting the girls dried off, dressed, and sent to get under the blankets to keep warm, I was picking up in the bathroom, and just got tired of hearing their yelling, so I looked up at my bathroom ceiling and yelled at the top of my lungs "TACI" (pronounced 'toch' [short 'o' sound])! 

Taci, is romanian for shut up, Taci din gura, mean shut your mouth; gura means mouth.... 

...anyway, so after I yelled Taci as loudly as I could, the fighting stopped, at least we didn't hear it anymore.  Not the rest of that day anyway. 

Honestly, I have NO reason to be annoyed with the noise level coming from any of my neighbors, since my 3 monkeys make more noise than you find at a Metallica concert.....okay, not really, but it's close!  I mean they play loudly, and they fight even louder!  And of course I have to yell, so that they can hear me above their yelling, it's really quiet embarrassing, and I'm surprised none of our neighbors have ever said anything; in fact they usually stop my kids to talk to them, or will bring them treats from time to time.

So if you are ever in Romania, and someone is getting on your nerves just tell them 'Taci din gura'! 

Is God There?

  So I went to a pentecostal church here in Tulcea this morning with my sister in law.  My Romanian is still very, VERY, limited so I understood pretty much nothing.  The services here are much different than what we experience back home, there is a lot of standing, sitting kneeling & praying, then singing.  The several different men got up and spoke, reading scripture [i think], then more down on the knees and praying. 

  I didn't know if people were "speaking in tongues" or just praying out loud in Romanian.  I didn't feel God's presence, and I couldn't help but wonder if it was because I didn't understand anything being said, or if it's something else.  Kinda made me wonder. 

  I know that most of what goes on in the mainstream churches in the U.S. is heretical and un-biblical, so it made me wonder if some of the 'charismatic' move has moved on over here too.  I believe in God, His son Jesus, the crucifixion, resurrection, etc.  However, I don't necessarily believe in the whole slain in the spirit & speaking in tongues, 'holy laughter', etc. that runs rampant these days.  Most of that seems demonic, not righteous and holy.  BUT, I do believe that a fraction, a very small fraction of it is real. 

  I think mainly I've just seen the Word so twisted and convoluted in "churches" - that it has left a really bad, bitter taste in my mouth.  I try to not judge and not be bitter, not be so cynical about it, but I guess the whole fool me once: shame on you, fool me twice: shame on me, kinda fits the bill here.  I've been fooled one too many times by charlatans and false teachers, and propho-liars!  I can count on 1, ONE, hand how many TRUE men/women of God that I know, who are teachers/preachers.

  Anyway, so do you think it comes down to understanding what is being said in order to feel God's presence, or is it like most everything else in churches these days - a big show that induces psychosomatic sensations, i.e. the power of suggestion?

Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

....No I didn't go to Vegas and win a big hand at Black-Jack.

I actually suck  money butt at card playing, even when it's just for toothpicks - God help me if I ever have loads of food stuck between my teeth and the only option to getting a tooth pick depends upon my winning at Texas Hold 'Em or Black Jack!  I'll have a teeth full of food - gross!!!

No, day before yesterday, I came home with the kids from school, and stayed outside with them for a little while, so they could run off some of that pent up energy.

While I'm sitting there watching the kids, and the expression on the faces of the neighbor's kids when they hear me talk - cause I'm an alien, who speaks in funny sounding language!

...seriously, that is how they look at me.  However I'm pretty sure I'm the best looking alien they've ever seen, I mean my skin isn't green or anything.  I'm a non-mutie type o' gal!  They even laugh when I talk, and ask my kids "Ce zic?" (what'd she say?)

So anyway, as I'm sitting there minding my own business (actually trying to mind other people's too, but language barrier sucks), one of the neighbors in the adjoining building starts talking to me.

He's an older guy, wearing a funny wanna-be cowboy type hat, tinted glasses (sort of a rosy/red tint) that happen to blend perfectly with that 'I've got a drinking problem complexion'.  PLUS he's missing teeth.

...don't I feel oh so special?

So he's talking to me, I can't understand him, not just cause of language barrier, but the lack of teeth, compounded with massive quantities of either wine or beer.  Isabel can't understand what he's saying either, and she's fluent in RO!

He keeps invading my personal space (which is one of my pet peeves), and then he asks me how old I am, was shocked to find out I'm over 30, he thought I was like 24 (he did score brownie points there).  He then compliments my blue eyes, and proceeds to tell me his wife is gone, and his kids are in England.

After he's said all this, as well as other stuff, of which I have no clue.  Out comes a couple who just got married Saturday, I believe he was trying to tell me they were leaving for their honeymoon, as he made the international body language sign for 'bedroom wrestling'.

Thankfully my 3 year old son LOVES his mommy, about a minute after this "sign language" took place, Paul runs over to me, wraps himself around my leg looks up at the old man and pointedly tells him:

"Mommy mea! My Mommy!"

I got out of there as quick as possible.  I wasn't scared and didn't feel threatened or anything like that, I actually found it humorous, but as I could smell some sort of alcoholic beverage on his breath, I decided that it would be better if I got the heck out of dodge as quickly as possible lest he start thinking I was enjoying his advances.

So lucky me, I won the "chicken dinner": being hit on by old man with no teeth, stinky breath, in a foreign language!

Now, aren't ya jealous???

Romanian Craftsmanship

So every year on August 15th there is a HUGE celebration here for sailor's or people named Maria, Mary, Marius, etc. - in honor of the virgin Mary.

Well for a week prior to the 15th, tradespeople come in from all over the surrounding area, artistsans of every type have a booth set up where they sell their goods.  Here are some of my shots. 

Please bear in mind I'm an amateur whose still trying to learn all the "tricks".

**NOTE:  if you click on the pictures you see the picture in the original size (or you should be able to)!