The Post Office

Going to the post office shouldn't be a difficult task. You go in, wait your turn in line, hand the lady your letters, she weighs them and checks the destination, she writes down a number, you pay her that amount, and she hands you the stamps and stickers for your letters. You walk away, put everything on the envelopes and drop them in the slot. How easy is that? In Romania, it is not that easy. First you have to find the post office. The one in my village is hidden behind a huge fence and tall trees. There is no sign that tells you it is a post office until you are right at the door. Even with directions, I had to ask two people where it was while I was standing on the grounds It is not clearly marked at all. Apparently, they do not want you to use it. I approached the door four different times on a day it was supposed to be open when the sign said they were open but there was no sign of life. As I was leaving, someone told me they had just left.

I gave up trying to go to the village post office and decided to go to the one in town. It was larger and at least it appeared to be open. I walked in with my stack of letters. There are four windows with all sorts of notices everywhere. As I don't read Romanian, I asked a lady which line I should stand in. I held out my letters and she pointed to a line. I waited for three other people to take care of their business. Apparently, the post office sells phone cards, is a bank, sends money, takes payments for some utility bills, makes photocopies, sends money via Western Union, and who knows what else they do here ppears that mail is not their prime business. When I finally got to the window the lady was quite nice to me. She took my letters, weighed each one and put stamps and stickers on each one for me to put on. She wrote a number on a piece of paper, I gave her the money, and stepped aside to do the sticking. When I was done I found the box on the wall for deposit, plopped them in and was on my merry way in less than thirty minutes.

This wasn't too painful, although the post office is not in town at all, but is across the river. Remember that pedestrians have less than no rights here. On a snowy, windy day, it is not a pleasant walk, but I must send letters home to Mom or I will not have a home to go home to in June.

I think I can do this without too much aggravation. Alas, that was a slow day at the post office. The next time I went, there were three lines working, sort of. Let's just way there were people forming three lines, but I am not sure anyone was getting anything accomplished. This time I held out my letters again and asked which line I should stand in. A lady indicated the one to the far right. I headed that way but she pushed in front of me, almost knocking me over. I suppose she thought it would take too long for me to take care of what should be a simple task. I waited in line for a half hour and had moved up from number five to number three. Then another woman came in and pushed in front of me again. Apparently, I have a sign on my back that says, "I have no business here, please ignore me." I tapped her on the shoulder and indicated that I was here and she should step behind me. She turned around and began pushing in front of the woman who had already jumped the line. Enough is enough. I left. I have students who are happy to mail my letters for me on their way home from school. It is a shame, but that seems to be the way it is here.

Fulbright Iasi

We left in the early morning to get to Iasi by train. There was to be a Fulbright seminar there and I wanted to be sure that my students were in attendance. There are some very bright students here in Gura Humorului, as there are most places. They simply do not think they have the opportunities here. My mission is to show them what they can do if they really want to. It is not easy. It is a lot of meticulous form filling out. It is choosing the right fit from over five thousand universities. It is taking the time to assemble the "Application Package." It is daunting, but certainly do-able.

I have about twenty-five students who can do this if they want to. They have the time as they are sophomores and juniors. They have the brains as evidenced by their transcript. Even though cheating is a way of life here, it is not hard to tell which ones are really doing the work and which ones are copying. My greatest task is to convince them to discard their negative Romanian Attitude and take on a can-do attitude. So often I ask them what they want to be when they graduate and they have no idea. There are very few jobs here in Southern Bucovina, but I tell them that is not a reason to stop trying for the moon. The jobs will come or they will go to the jobs. They already think they will have to go to Italy or France as it is. With a little foresight and planning, they can go anywhere.

Fulbright has a program that can take them to America for their university studies if they are willing to put in the legwork, study for the tests, and put together the Package. There is a lot to do, but it is certainly do-able in the two year span they have to begin collecting and honing their skills.

Students here have a strange attitude. They are already beaten before they get out of the box. When something goes wrong, they say, "It' Romania," and give up. I tell them to try again. This seems to be a new concept for them. The idea that one failure does not a failed person make is very foreign to them.

And so I accompanied them to Iasi because I was afraid they would back out at the last minute and not go. They are excellent at making excuses. When we arrived they waited outside. I had to go first. I am sure they would not have left the doorstep if I had not led them in. We spent a few hours learning what was available to them. I am certain that some of them will make an effort. Later in the week, I brought a few more to Suceava for a condensed version. I know they have the abilities – just not the courage.

They had great questions and took away scads of materials to read. I know some of them read from the questions they asked later. They took in so much of what was offered. All too soon the clock struck and we had to leave just like Cinderella. I have promised each one of them that when they come to America, they can have Thanksgiving at my house. There has to be something familiar for them.

Thanksgiving in Bucuresti

It is interesting what we get used to and what we can live without. I am not a fan of turkey, although I love the stuffing and cranberry sauce. I did rather miss all the planning and baking. I enjoy cooking when there is someone to cook for. It is not any fun to cook for one and so I don't as a rule. We were supposed to bring something with us for the dinner. I offered to make pumpkin pie as mine always gets rave reviews. How hard can that be?

First I had to get the pie pans which really don't exist here. I finally bought two round glass dishes with 90 degree rather than 45 degree sides. Not exactly pie pans but they will do. Then I started looking for the ingredients. You would think I was looking for gold. First, I found cinnamon and whole cloves. Those were the only spices I could find. I tried to find ginger and nutmeg. I looked in all the local shops and asked for these items. No success. Then I went to Suceava to look in the bigger stores. I couldn't find anything anywhere.

In the meantime, I was working on getting the pumpkin. There are several kinds of pumpkins. The orange pumpkins that we use for pies are only used for jack-o-lanterns here. I tried to get one to make pies but was told it was pig food. Everyone made a face and shook their heads and adamantly refused to help me get a pumpkin. They use a white, oval-shaped pumpkin to make pies with. I have not tasted one as yet, but I really want an American pumpkin pie. I actually considered jumping the fence to get a pumpkin but that seemed very undignified and I can't imagine stealing a pumpkin from someone's field. I have offered to buy one but they refuse to sell me one.

Finally, I got a pumpkin, but still no spices. There are plenty of spices for meats and soups, but very little to be had in the baking department. I finally resorted to a bottle of wonderful wine from this area. Someone else had better luck with the pumpkin pie. Apparently, they were privy to the American grocery store in the American Embassy. If only I had thought of that. I will ask my kids to bring me what I need at Christmas and then I will make a pie.

In the meantime, Bucharest is getting ready for the holiday season. This is a Romanian mall. It is a huge building with lots of little shops inside. It is a frustrating experience to shop here. There are five floors. The top floor seems to be dedicated to appliances and electronics, a floor I can disregard. The escalator is in the center of each floor and the shops are arranged around it in a huge oval. The escalator forces you to walk halfway around to go up again. Many of the shops have the same sort of things, but you have to look at each one to see what is there. There are no maps that say where anything is and so you are on your own with only the escalator to keep you grounded. I think I will be saving a lot of money her in Romania because there does not seem very much to spend it on which is not all bad.

Dinner was fabulous as it turned out. It is so nice to see people who understand what you are saying the first time you say it. I am always happy to spend a few days with the other Fulbrighters in Romania. It is a breath of fresh air. There was plenty to eat and we made short work of it all. I doubt there were many leftovers to send home. No turkey sandwiches for the big football bowl games. I wonder if they are even broadcast over here?

Most of us had no real agenda after dinner and so we went – you guessed it – out to eat. Are we Americans, or what? We found ourselves at a wonderful little Mexican restaurant somewhere in Bucharest.

Fulbright Interview

Another midnight train trip to Bucharest. Another night of flashing towns and train stations. I am getting only too familiar with this city. Two teachers from my school have applied for the Teacher Exchange Program and so we have come down on the train for the day. It is a cold day and yet full of hope for the two of them. We stop at a café for breakfast and to wait until the right time to arrive at the Commission. I have been in my share of cafes but this one was unique. There were two seating areas – one in front by the window so that we could watch people on their way to wherever they are going on an early Friday morning. A typical café. To get to the restrooms, it is necessary to walk through a car showroom. Apparently, the other café seating area doubles as the waiting room for the car salesmen. I have spent more time watching the morning commute than I might otherwise as I wait for them both to emerge from the bathroom. It is certainly necessary to wash off any night train aura they may still have.

They are both terribly nervous. They will be fine as they have both prepped for the interview. The hardest thing is really the application. It asks so many questions in just a little different way. It is long and requires much research to fill in the required blanks on the form. So many attachments but once it is done, the worst is over. Then it is the waiting. They have known about this interview for about two weeks and have asked me so many questions about it. Unfortunately, I can not help them beyond the generic response which is, of course, not what they are looking for.

Finally, they are ready to face their interviewers and we head for the Comission on foot. I actually know exactly where we are going I have made this trip so many times. We walk by the home of Ge Ge the soccer king and take their picture. It is one for posterity. I am sure that I am probably in the minority as I have no idea who this is.

It is a fine day today. Blustery and cold, but clear. The leaves have fallen and winter has definitely taken the reins from autumn. Soon the snow will be flying and it will be Christmas in this city. We walk past some of huge manses. I think they must be university and embassy housing and buildings. They are really impressive. It looks like there is a helicopter pad on top of one of them. Finally, we arrive. I take their rucksacks and introduce them. They head in, ready for bear.

I leave them for a bit and wander back to the boulevard. I have found a new toy on my camera. The path looks like a wonderful autumn day when I am done playing with the color. Check out the before and after…

Finally, we have lunch and it is over. We have hours before the train leaves and so we head to the mall. Check out the wine aisle! There are all sorts of choices. Too bad I can't carry too much on the train.

We have dinner at a quaint little Italian restaurant near Piata Romana and then head back to the Metro. It is a warren of lines going here and there. I watch as a train disgorges its passengers while others wait to squash into the cramped areas. It is a wonder that everyone gets where they are headed.

Now we are headed back to the train station for a long trip home. Another night train.

Winter has arrived

It has snowed nearly every day now. Not a lot of snow, but just enough to keep the landscape white and the roads slippery. They have slowed down a bit and they don't pass quite as readily, but I still think they go too fast. The roads are completely ice-covered and yet drivers get right on each other's bumpers with no regard for anyone else. You walk on the roads at your own risk – and that risk is mighty high in the winter when there is no berm and it is dark so much of the time. I doubt most drivers can even see pedestrians when we are walking to the bus or waiting for it. It is interesting to see how people cope with it. THere are aplways people with umbrellas and now I see they are good for all four seasons. I even saw a gentleman riding a bicycle to town in a very nice suit, weilding his umbrella against the snowflakes as they pummeled him.

And yet, it is still a cozy little mountain town where nothing much really happens during the winter. I do make it a point to stop into my favorite restaurant in the Centru of town. They have the most delightful hot chocolate and they don't mind if you sit forever and just talk. And later in the day it is a marvelous little tavern. There is a big screen similar to an American sports bar, except there is only soccer on the screen and I have little interest in it. If it was American football, I might even watch. This is some sort of rum and brown sugar concoction. It is certainly festive.

Chichifoi

Many of the students I speak to say they are looking for a way out of Romania. Some of my students have parents who are working abroad, mostly notably in Italy and Spain, who send money home. There is little possibility for a position in this area of the country, as there is little industry, only farming and tourism. It seems that most of the tourist Euros go to other countries. It doesn't appear that they stay here as many of the busses that pass through do not have Romanian license plates. There are certainly a few hotels and restaurants that are getting the tourist trade and many bed and breakfasts, or pensiunes as they are called here, offer accommodations. There are few places for tourists to spend their money though as one looks around the town. A few restaurants and two nice bars in walking distance of the centru, otherwise, it is a bleak. There are no shops or cute little places for the tourist to walk to. It is not a town that lends itself to browsing.

I find that I am working with a few students who are interested in going to American universities. One of the outreach programs for the Fulbright Commission is to help students do just this. They have a program in place to help high school students work through the process. It is a tedious process and takes time to put all the pieces together, but it can be done. There are Fulbright people in-country who are here specifically to help high school students get through this process.

One such student I met in Bucharest on my first visit to the Comision. You may remember her picture earlier in my blog. Diana is an excellent student with perfect grades. She is active in a variety of community service organizations and is published in a Romanian Psychology magazine. She writes a monthly column for this magazine also. Certainly a student worthy of an American university education. She has taken the TOEFL and the SAT and finally was completing her applications to several American universities. I spent a few evenings with her making sure all her paperwork was in order and that her translations were adequate for her purpose. I was happy to help her although I must say that her mother's excellent desserts did sweeten the bargain for me.

We even found an American on his way back to the States who took her applications and mailed them from the States for her so that they made it to the universities on time and did not get bogged down in the trans-Atlantic mail shuffle. Now we wait. One of the universities has asked for her semester grades and she should hear something by March. Another reason to hurry spring.