For some reason there are two P
olish classes in the school. No one has been able to tell me anything about them other than they exist. For the holidays, they dressed in their native costumes and came to the teacher's work room in the afternoon to perform. These students are ninth graders and perform quite well. The costumes are simply lovely. They sang several Christmas carols to earn a treat from the Director.
riends and family. This group grew up here as classmates and have a very special bond that comes of sharing a classroom for four years and often even longer. These friendships last lifetimes here. This group is home to share the holidays with dear friends and family. There is a couple who is working in Ireland where wages are much higher than here. There is an Italian who proved to be an excellent cook. There are several who work in a nebulous "elsewhere" who did not elaborate. All of these people are making boatloads more money than they can here and so they have left for better pickings. They return every year at the holidays to renew lifelong friendships.The mountain climbs a little higher from the back of the the captain's cabana. Several people had arrived on snowmobiles. They had a grand time racing to the very tippy top of the mountain in the light of the full moon. We watch
ed the headlights as they weaved through the pine trees and finally came out in to the clearing at the summit. What a thrill! We had to call up for a ride as cars could not negotiate the steep incline, not to mention the road was not more than a deer path at times. We were picked up by a four wheel drive vehicle with a right hand steering wheel. I was not able to take any good pictures. The ones I took, even with the fastest exposure are completely blurred. We bumped our way all the way up there. Maybe in the daylight it would have been more sedate, but this evening, it was a wild ride.
We spent a rousing evening eating and talking and dancing and carousing. Romanians can put away an enormous amount of food. At every meal Romanians eat like lumberjacks and never seem to be full. They are always snacking on whatever is available. At this particular cabana is on the top of Toaca Mountain and for the few hours I was there, three huge meals were served. None of them struck me as traditional Romanian fare, but all of it was wonderful. I watched all of them eat each meal as if it were their last. I have no idea where they put it all.
The cabana is near the top of the central mountain, as viewed from town. It is a lovely chalet finished in knobby pine. I felt like I was in Michigan's northern woods. The front door opens onto a bird's eye view of the city. Two rivers flow through Gura Humorului. Houses and little factories stretch for several kilometers along them. From here the odd village geography is noticeable. Villages I have known in other countries are little groups of houses clustered around a central square with a number of streets intersecting so that no one is far from anyone else. The square is the center of village life with the shops and governmental buildings.
Here it is not that way. Villages grew up along the river banks and travel routes in ribbons. Each house is located next to its neighbor in a long string of opposing houses. This seems to be the way of it throughout Romania. This is the structure of a German village. The houses were built close together in rows with high fence lines so that invading forces could not get to the people. Apparently, the invaders marched through towns but could only fight those foolhardy few in the streets as they could not penetrate the houses and, not knowing how many they would face behind the high, fortified fences, did not venture in. In this manner the invaders passed through, leaving the inhabitants alone. (Why they didn't just march down the back of the houses is beyond me, but then I was not a military strategist in medieval times when these villages were first formed.) The huge Christmas tree in the Centru is a beacon for all.
In towns, the ribbons may be two or three streets deep, but still the general makeup is a three to five mile long ribbon of houses with their gardens and animals stretched out behind. Some of these houses are placed so near to the mountain that the gardens are on a steep incline as they trace their way uphill. Many houses are decorated for the holidays with twinkling lights. From here they look like fairy lights dancing in the moonlight. It is a full moon and there is something magical in the air this evening.
There was music playing the entire evening. Quite an eclectic collection. Traditional Romanian, Hungarian, Irish, and I am not sure of the origins of some of the other traditional pieces. There was lots of modern dance music. Romanians can dance. All of them. It is not like America where only girls dance. This evening it was mostly the men dancing. They knew all the traditional dances – the Serbian circle dance and even the dance of the Russian Cossacks. They whirled and twirled to some Hungarian tunes. I learned the tango as well as a number of Romanian and Hungarian dances this evening. This is not a group hug, but a whirling dervish of a dance that comes from Hungary I think they said. I 
have seen it several times and so it must be quite popular here.
There was a roaring fire outside for roasting the traditional shish kabobs. I know there is a Romanian word for them but I can never remember it. There is something to be said for the warming effects of twika, as you will notice that only one of us is wearing a coat. Although we were out there for some time and it did not seem cold. I am sure it must have been. Tending the fire was great fun. There is something about a fire that is completely mesmerizing.
This fellow had a whole repertoire of whistles. It seems that for mountain people, this is an excellent way to communicate. There is a whistle for, "I am heading to the left," "I am heading to the right," Wait for me," "Wait there," and any number of other messages. Apparently, there are whistles to indicate danger and all sorts of things. Since that night I have listened to whistles in town and sure enough, they are distinct and each one is very different. I never knew there was a reason for learning to whistle. I had always thought it was just for amusement. And there is whistling that goes with the traditional music. It is shrill and nearly overpowers the music itself. An interesting phenomenon that grows on you now seems perfectly normal.
These are some of my eleventh form students on the last day before the holidays. We walked to town to have a cup of hot chocolate as an end of the year treat.
I am always amazed at how the ingenuity of Romanians and how they can put things together out of the meagerest of materials. Construction is an interesting science here. I listened to chain saws for several weeks as they were transforming the second floor from an open attic to four bedrooms with adjoining bathrooms and a large sitting area. Night after night the chain saws buzzed. I can not in my wildest dreams imagine using a chain saw for sawing two-by-fours to fit with any precision, and yet, I hear the buzz of chain saws all over town. It seems to be the tool of choice for housing construction, both rough carpentry and finish carpentry.
For the holidays this year, a tiny city for Santa's elves has been constructed. Most of it is made up of lean-to's, but one of the buildings will apparently become a permanent feature of the park. It is a log cabin type of construction with huge balsa logs snugly forming a cozy little house. This cabin took several days to construct and the chain saw was the only tool in sight. As I look at the completed building, it is difficult to realize that it is so perfect.
Every time there is construction, it seems that the structure is encased in scaffolding, whether it be new construction or remodeling efforts. I do not recall seeing such a thing at home. I can not tell if it is because they are afraid the house will fall apart before they get the plaster on to hold it all together, because as I watch structures going up I am surprised that they stay up. Or whether it is because they don't have ladders and it is easier to build an external catwalk to maneuver around the work area. It is a toss-up.
I went sledding on a mountain on Christmas Eve. It was great fun to feel like a kid again. The greatest thing was looking over at a neighboring mountain and seeing someone bringing home a tree having just cut it from the top of the mountain. A sight we probably would never see in America. (Or maybe I am just from an over-populated area…)
Preparations for Saint Nicholas Day have been going on for quite a while. New street decorations have been affixed to all the light poles in town. The sidewalks are being repaved (a personal victory). Lights and decorations are going up all over town in shops and houses. All of a sudden every shop has Christmas decorations, toys, wrapping paper, and lights.
I am ready for an evening of Christmas carols and the official tree lighting. Stefan Hruska will be here to sing the carols. (I have been here long enough that I can say his name with no 
hesitation.) He is a very popular traditional singer. They have been setting up the stage all afternoon. I spent the afternoon in town as it seemed silly to go home and come back. I wandered through some of the shops and then had dinner in the hotel. It was actually the first time I had been past the lobby. It is really quite nice. Chicken and rice with tea – freshly made and all served at the same time. An eight year old is the Master of Ceremonies for the evening. He is fabulous. He works with no notes, but has managed to memorize pages of script. He has a great sense of his audience, warming them up for Stefan. I am not sure he actually needs the microphone – he speaks very clearly and loud enough for those in the parking lot to hear. He has an excellent command of his words. He knows exactly what he is saying and adds emphasis when it is best and is demure when it suits. I can only imagine what he will be when he grows up.
The street has been blocked off from traffic through the center of town – a wonder in itself – and people are starting to gather. I had planned to meet a few colleagues, but it is impossible to find them in the crowd and my phone is dead. I wander through the groups of people, looking for someone I recognize but these people are mostly brand new to me. It is getting more and more crowded. I had thought I was beginning to know many of the people here, but now there are many I have never seen before. One of my students latches onto me and we spend the e
vening listening to songs I do not recognize. The population of Gura Humorului is 17,000 and I think every one of them is in town to see the show.
Soon Stefan takes to the stage and is wishing everyone, "Craciun fericit! And La Multi Ans!" He raises his hand to show a remote control. He presses a button and the tree lights up to the sounds of "Ooohhs and Aahhhs!" He is heard above the crowd as he begins his first carol. Everyone settles in for an evening of traditional carols of the season.People in the crowd are humming along and watching, mesmerized, as Stefan belts out the tunes. I understand enough of the words to 
know that they are very similar in sentiment to the English carols I know.
Stefan is from Mare Mures which is to the east over the Carpathians. I understand that he returns every Christmas for the lighting of the Christmas tree. He certainly has the audience mesmerized. He is a big man wearing a white fur jacket. His drums are covered in the same white fur. His stage presence is such that he takes over the entire town center. All eyes are turned to him as he sings song after song.
He sings for a very long time. When he takes his last bow, I thought the evening was over but I was wrong. He has offered to sign autographs for those who are interested. My student as well as a number of others starts looking for a pen and paper. The music stops but no one leaves. Now I hear the 
inimitable sound of fireworks
. 
These guys really know how to throw a par
ty.
