La final (At the end)

Well, anyone who's been keeping tally of the frequency of my posts (and, I mean, why would you?) over the past 2 years will note a definite drop-off in recent months -- and maybe earlier. When I first arrived in Romania, I could hardly contain myself: the words and images seemed to flow out of their own accord, desperate to be committed to paper (or at least to computer screen), desperate for the light of day. Probably much to the chagrin of my readers, I positively fell over myself trying to document every road-sign, every pothole, every dog, cloud, apartment bloc, train, man, woman, boy, girl, chicken, doorway, gathering of more than 1 person...positively every twitch of a finger, be it someone else's or my own. And I suppose this is a natural response. I think many would agree that much of the documenting (words, images, etc.) we do of the world around us in our lifetimes isn't so much for others as it is for ourselves -- as though we need continually to reaffirm to ourselves that we were here, doing this, in this moment. After all, perception and memory are fickle, delicate creatures, products of evolution whose purpose may well have been simply to keep us alive ("don't eat those leaves", "don't enter that forest at night", "hitting yourself repeatedly on the head with a hammer. Bad"). Yes, we're all generally good at remembering the good and shedding the bad from past experiences -- even as we realize that these "memories" quickly (perhaps immediately) morph themselves to our own little editorial tweakings and revisions. Is this why we journalize, why we snap that photo, as some sort of stark, incontrovertible truth? This really happened...in this way?

What ever the reasons for why we do or don't document, I think it's true for myself and for many of my finished and almost-finished fellow Peace Corps Volunteers that we have, in many ways, stopped trying to explain the intricacies of our experiences -- at least with the same fervor we once had. There's the sense that the specific, substantive reality of the experience (good or bad) will never really be captured again, in any form. And you just become more and more aware of this as time goes by. Don't get me wrong: I've truly enjoyed trying to describe for all of you how and in what forms my life has taken shape while in Romania. But I've also begun to realize that, in some ways, it's a futile enterprise. For that matter, how could I ever hope to understand the lives even of other Peace Corps volunteers around the world -- Mali, El Salvador, Tajikistan, Vietnam. Each circumstance is so fundamentally, almost painfully specific to that place and time. Yes, it is a thing of beauty, maybe one of the most beautiful experiences of my life: living with and sharing myself with people from somewhere else in the world. And naturally it is an exchange that I hope will continue to bare fruit in coming decades (and centuries?) for myself, my Romanian friends, and for my fellow volunteers and their communities around the globe. But there is also something about that beauty that lives within that moment alone -- sharing a meal, a walk, a handshake and a glance -- a beauty that will shimmer for a brief instant, and then fade. Endlessly fragile. Indescribably brief. Our lives are all populated by these moments.

My Peace Corps service officially ends at the end of July and then, like so many other volunteers (and travelers and expats) over the years, I'll presumably find myself in that odd, "fish-out-of-water" stage of trying to reintegrate into the culture of my birth, and yet that I may not be entirely equipped for. 2 years is no time at all...and it's an eternity. Returned volunteer friends of mine tell me their stories, which are alarming and funny all at the same time: of the expansiveness and variety of an American grocery store driving someone to seek terrified refuge in her family car; of hometown friends' eyes glazing over after gamely making it through the first 5-minutes of a Peace Corps story; of a volunteer hording plastic bags, toilet paper and small-change for months after getting home (items perennially lacking during the PC years). The family of one returned volunteer once described him as wearing a permanent "deer in the headlights" look for a solid year after getting back. Hmm, maybe I should stay here a while longer.

I don't know much about history, or biology...but certain facts stand on their own, resolute, unwavering. They read as follows: a) I have spent almost 27 months in the Peace Corps in Romania; b) It has been an extraordinary and foundational experience, and I would recommend it to anyone; c) Romania is a country filled with kind, wonderful people who generally want simply to claim the prosperity and global respect they have long deserved. There. If I get nothing else across about my experience -- at least you have that. Enjoy.

I also know that, after I get back to the US in early September, I plan on hitting the good ol' American road (assuming gas doesn't surpass gold in per-ounce price). I finally have, uhh, let's just say a little opening in my datebook, and a little money saved up. Not to mention all those belated wedding-gifts I'm going to have to hand-deliver. SO: Anyone who is just dying to get a visit from me and have your ear talked-off about things you don't know or care about...let me know! Maybe my Grand Tour will make a stop in your town. And being a Peace Corps volunteer, I'll be happy to sleep in your tub, eat the green, malevolent goo on the bottom of your fridge -- and I won't even use your shower! It's a win-win situation here.

Just let me know, and maybe I'll start putting a rough itinerary together for what I may call the Post-Corps Moore Tour. Until then, don't expect any last greeting card from Romania. I mean, I never sent you anything else...so why should I start now? Check out my new photos. And keep smiling. To borrow a friend's normal mass email sign-off:

"You've always been my favorite."

Saplings and Minarets

Life recently has had a tendency to operate something like a bicycle that lost its middle gears: either the pace of life and work is extremely relaxed [read "slow"], with much looking ahead to future milestones and goals...or suddenly everything seems to happen at once, and all of those once-distant milestones and goals have come rushing at me together -- leaving me exhilarated, but also fighting maniacally to keep the bicycle upright!

As I've written before, the process of adapting to a new culture and a new understanding of time and scheduling generally means learning to relax, and breath, and appreciate the process as it evolves. It often means letting go of one's own expectations about how things should get done, and by when, and charting future "goals" more as focus areas than as fixed points. I have most definitely come to appreciate this flexible approach, even when it means calling up more patience than we think ourselves capable of. And so after a year and a half of preparing for our park renovation, and with the sidewalks and benches already replaced, we suddenly found ourselves with cash-in-hand, ready to buy and plant our trees and shrubs. And in the blink of an eye, it was all done (see photos) and, in my opinion, looking fantastic! Standing there, gazing around at this beautiful revived park of ours -- the young saplings stretching skyward, townspeople chatting quietly on the benches, flowers and birds set against the blue sky -- it occurred to me that these are the moments we strive for. These often too-short, too-transient instances in which everything seems to coalesce, and imbue itself with logic and meaning, and our labors are validated. These are the moments we live for, as rare and fleeting as they are. And I was (and am) supremely happy that I could be a part of it.

Of course, following this "all-at-once" theme, I had to leave right in the middle of tree-planting to attend my Peace Corps Romania group's "Completion-of-Service" Conference, which traditionally takes place 3-months before our service officially ends (in late July). All of us in PCRO Group 21 arrived together way back in May 2006. And although there were plenty of post-Peace Corps topics to discuss at the conference (employment...gulp), most of us enjoyed the opportunity to get together one last time and simply reflect on our experiences. Out of our original group of around 75 volunteers, we have lost something like 13 (for various reasons) over the past 2 years. And it's important to note that 8 from our group are extending their service in Romania, anywhere from 6 months to a full year. Whenever we have all chosen to finish our Peace Corps service, I think it's clear none of us will be returning to our "other" lives as the same people -- if we return at all.

And then of course, immediately following our conference in Sinaia (in the southern Carpathians), I headed directly to Istanbul on the train, with a group of friends and fellow volunteers. As has been written about exhaustively in the past, Istanbul truly is an extraordinary city -- one that sits astride two continents as it straddles the Bosphorus. The city and its people represent a wonderful melding of Eastern and Western culture (dating back to the melding of Byzantine Christian and Ottoman Muslim culture). Not to mention the fact that they are unfailingly, perhaps even agressively, hospitable! Yes, store-owners and restaurateurs are very vocal in their sales tactics (traditions learned from the bazaar perhaps), but once they have your business, they outdo themselves in service, generosity and good-humor...even when serving miserly Peace Corps volunteers like ourselves! As in other cities of the world I've visited, my advice in Istanbul is to not get too caught up in the guidebook "checklists" scuttling you from one main attraction to another. Yes, Hagia Sophia, the Topkapi Palace and the Basilica Cistern are all wonderful things to experience. On the other hand, I felt I had learned as much about Istanbul and its people -- more, in some ways -- by simply wandering its alleyways and neighborhoods. Sometimes I think it's easy to forget that these places we visit are not simply a collection of static monuments, but a living, breathing organism. And whether in the seething dynamism of the bazaar district, or afloat on the glistening Bosphorus, Istanbul is most definitely alive.

But I couldn't stay. I had to return to Timisoara for a friend's wedding, and after two straight days and nights on the train (and an amusing 3-hour layover in a tiny Bulgarian town), I made it. Of course 2 days after that, I found myself on the train again, heading back to Bucuresti for the Swear-in Ceremony of Peace Corps Romania's newest volunteers, Group24, whose training I had helped with back in February and early March. It's always a pleasure to see the energy and optimism that a new batch of Peace Corps volunteers bring with them. Indeed, after 2 years as one myself, I may be a more experienced and realistic volunteer -- but I would like to believe that my optimism and energy have not diminished.

All in all, these have been a hectic but invigorating past few weeks, filled with the sort of chaotic but somehow graceful experiences that have come to define my time in the Peace Corps: always learning, always improving (well, ideally), and always coming to a better understanding of yourself and the world you inhabit...even if just for a fraction of a moment.

I wish you all the best, and can't wait to see you again.

Vine vine Primăvara!... (Spring is coming!)

The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;
It gathers to a greatness, like the ooze of oil
Crushed. Why do men then now not reck his rod?
Generations have trod, have trod, have trod;
And all is seared with trade; Bleared, smeared with toil;
And wears man's smudge and shares man's smell: the soil
Is bare now, nor can foot feel, being shod.

And for all this, nature is never spent;
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs —
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.

-- Gerard Manley Hopkins, "God's Grandeur" (1877)

As the third and final Romanian Spring that I have the pleasure of experiencing (at least with the Peace Corps) washes over the landscape here in the Central Balkan Peninsula, I'm constantly reminded of this indomitable force, this "dearest freshness" Hopkins refers to in the natural world, and likewise in humans themselves. After the desolation of Winter, life inevitably returns. Likewise, even after the "blear" and "smear" of history, and of looming forces that endlessly threaten to unhinge the world and its occupants -- a fear that has changed little since Hopkins' 19th-Century -- up rises life itself, irrepressible, resolute, to restake its claim. I suppose Spring is the ever-handy metaphor for all that we aspire to and hope for, as well as all that we hope to leave behind us. And ultimately, whether one believes that this unconquerable life-force comes from the Divine, as Hopkins does, or from somewhere else, there is little denying just how tenacious we humans are. We are somehow always able to move forward, to train our eyes on the horizon, even as we carry with us the wounds and memories of the past. I have written before about how lucky I consider myself to be living here in Eastern Europe at this moment in history -- one in which Romanians still live with the physical and mental ghosts of past decades, and yet are simultaneously able to enjoy the benefits of a rapidly-growing and liberalizing economy and society. And if the change that I have seen in just the last two years is any indication, this country has great things to look forward to in the coming years.

Realistitally, this is not a difficult argument to make these days: Romania is now part of NATO (and recently hosted the NATO summit), is now part of the EU, has one of the highest economic growth rates in the world, and is earning accolades the world over for its vibrant, resurgent film industry (anyone who hasn't seen "4 Months, 3 Weeks & 2 Days" or "American Dreamin'" should get down to the video store). As with so many other post-totalitarian developing nations, Romania is in a process of self-examination and reawakening, digging deep into the bare, trod soil left by past abuses, and coaxing forth new sprouts. As my good Romanian friend Dorel Jurcovan puts it, "we [Romanians] just have to relearn what we already knew."

And of course continuity and regeneration are also part of how the Peace Corps has always operated. In late February and early March, I was back in my volunteer class's old first home in Romania, the southern city of Ploieşti, helping to train the newest group of PC volunteers (PCVs) to arrive. Comprising all PC sectors except English Teaching (i.e. Environment, Institutional Development and Community Economic Development), the new volunteers cover a diversity of fields, ages and backgrounds. I'm happy to see that, true to the PC's current goal of recruiting more 50+ volunteers, the newest group (PCRO Group 24) has a higher number of more mature recruits, coming with a wealth of previous professional experience. I must say though that, in contradiction to what was recently written in the "Too Many Innocents Abroad" Op-Ed piece in the NY Times, there will always be a vital role in today's Peace Corps for volunteers of every age, background and expertise. Yes, continual self re-evaluation and adaptation is a necessary (and healthy) process for the Peace Corps. But I firmly believe that the technical partnerships and personal connections the PC forges with other countries calls for every type of person and outlook, "expert" and "generalist" alike.

Many have lately been asking me about the time-frame for the remainder of my PC service, and what lies beyond. The first answer is relatively straight-forward, while the second...not so much: my service officially ends in late July, and after seeing a bit of Europe with old grad school friends, I'm thinking of heading eastward, perhaps toward India, perhaps the Caucasus, perhaps even as far as Southeast Asia. Combined with this, I'd love to do that long-overdue US road-trip I've never been able to do (despite the rising gas prices). Suffice to say, there may be a fair amount of traveling later this year, and since it's not often that I have the flexibility for extended travel, I'm going to make the most of it! On the professional front, it's amazing -- and would ordinarily be alarming -- how unconcerned I am by thoughts of that next career step, the job-hunt, etc. While many of my volunteer friends are already well into the post-PC job search, I've been making a conscious effort to lose myself in the little things -- knowing full well that these minute, endearing aspects of life in Romania won't be mine to savor for much longer. I suppose this has been one of the challenges of my time here ever since arrival: how do you properly memorialize a moment when you're still living in it? For beyond the collected trinkets, and photos, and physical cataloguing, all you can really do is live it like any other moment, and hope that memory will do the rest.

I've also begun to think more about continuing on in development work, and lending my architectural skills to Peace Corps Response (formerly Crisis Corps), a special wing of the Peace Corps focusing on shorter-term (3-6 month), technically-specific disaster relief and reconstruction work around the world. Longer term, I'm considering Habitat for Humanity, USAID, the UN, the Red Cross, and a number of other aid/development organizations -- recommendations are always welcome! There are plenty of communities (inside and outside the US) very much in need of safe, healthy places to live -- and who could benefit, in fundamental ways, from good design. Largely though, I've been trying hard not to get too caught up in thinking about that next step. Fundamentally, I'm extremely content and happy with where I am -- specifically and generally -- and confident that the next step will get sorted out. I hope everyone is well, and I promise to post more photos soon (I have a trip to Istanbul coming up).

P.S.: Just as a final note, many people have been concerned about the developing situation in Serbia and Kosovo, following Kosovo's declaration of independence -- just as they've been concerned about my proximity to Serbia. Unquestionably, it's a difficult issue (Kosovar ethnic-Albanians believe in their right to autonomy, while Serbians view Kosovo as their cultural heartland), and its resolution is anything but certain. I remain hopeful though, even in the face of embassy burnings and riots. Serbia is a wonderful country, and I have truly enjoyed getting to know the Serbians themselves -- both in Serbia and here in western Romania. Let's hope that the situation gets resolved to everyone's satisfaction soon.

A trecut înca un an (Another year has passed)

This post is, predictably, a little late in coming, but I want to belatedly wish everyone a Happy Holidays (Sărbatori fericite), Happy Hannukah (Hannukah fericit), Merry Christmas (Crăciun fericit) and Happy New Year (La mulţi ani)!! Although decidedly lacking in snow, the holidays in western Romania were filled with the music, celebration, sights, smells, tastes, lights, and general reflection on life that are synonymous with the end of the year...not to mention the cold. And this year-end held extra significance for this grizzled old PC volunteer, as I celebrated my much-awaited, much-feared 30th birthday. I have to say, though, that despite all of the white-knuckle anxiety and dread normally associated with the arrival of that infamous 30th year, I utterly failed in finding things to be depressed about: I have been extraordinarily blessed (or lucky) in the first three decades of my life, accomplishing goals I've set for myself (well, except for becoming a rock star and a lobsterman...but there's time yet), seeing places I've wanted to see, getting to know a vast assortment of remarkable people, and becoming evermore awed and enamored of the world we live in. Quite simply, life has been getting better for me every year, and I look forward to each new birthday kind of like I used to look forward to opening the little doors on the advent calendar at Christmas. Perhaps by the time my 90th rolls around...I'll have actually figured out what the heck I'm doing! Eh, maybe not.

Once again, I spent a terrific Christmas here in Recaş with my host family, along with two other orphaned Peace Corps volunteers from this area. My host father's oldest sister Anişoara was also visiting from Bucureşti, a woman who, immediately upon crossing the threshold of our house, began to cook at a crazed, feverish pace. Suffice to say, it's amazing that we three Americans are still able to fit through standard door-frames, after being force-fed with great Romanian holiday food for several days.

(Photo courtesy of Yale University Library Online)

Two days after Christmas, I left on the train with another friend of mine for Krakow, Poland, where we planned to meet up with several other traveling PC volunteers. Warsaw may be the Polish center of state these days (and the one Polish city many Americans would be able to name), but Krakow is and always has been the cultural heart of the country, and the place where Polish kings and queens were crowned for centuries. In the 20th Century, it very well may have saved Krakow that it was not a more important governmental or industrial center, as the city made it through World War II without damage (like Prague) and now contains what is reportedly the largest surviving medieval town square in Europe. And let me tell you, Krakow's old town center is stunning, populated as it is by medieval and baroque buildings, and ringed by a greenbelt of parks. Pope John Paul II came from here, and it's easy to see why he held a special love for the city throughout his papacy in Rome. Polish people themselves are extremely generous and kind hosts (perhaps too generous, if you happen to be sitting next to them at the bar!), and -- even after Poland's long and chaotic history as the battleground for many wars -- the Poles continue to be a very proud and robust people. Not to mention beautiful, considering the masses of blue eyes, blond hair and high Slavic cheekbones you see on the street! We began our visit to Krakow in a smoky basement bar, listening to old Polish sailors from the Baltic Sea (in the north) sing sea shanties on their guitars. And we culminated our visit by ringing in the New Year with hordes of ecstatic Poles in the streets. And if I were Polish, I'd be ecstatic too: this is a country that clearly has much to look forward (and back) to.

The second, and somewhat more rushed, leg of our trip took us to Prague, in the Czech Republic. And as anyone knows who is somewhat familiar with travel in Europe, this is a city that needs no introduction. Since the breakup of Czechoslovakia and the economic and political reforms of the early '90s, Prague has steadily grown into one of Europe's (and the world's) most visited tourist cities. And it's not difficult to see why when you arrived: the city's old center is awash in medieval churches, markets, cobbled streets, winding alleyways and tunnels, palaces, sculpture, excellent food, and quaint bars serving Czech beer (which many consider to be the world's best, though I might take issue with this). And it must be said: the city's also awash in tourists. Granted, we visited during the holidays. And granted, I have spent the last year and a half in far Eastern Europe, largely without the international crowds, bustle, bright lights and capitalism of Western Europe's or America's major cities. Yet I found it all a little overwhelming and off-putting. I'd like to believe that perhaps there's a quieter time of year in which to visit a city like Prague, but I'm just not sure that this is ever the case. And don't misunderstand me: Prague is a wonderful city. But as someone who has intimately experienced the developing world in Romania, I find myself torn. Improved commerce, infrastructure, and global "image" are things I wish for Romania's own cities. Yes, I would love to see more international travelers taking notice of cities like Timişoara, near me, perhaps because I'd like to believe such exposure could lead to increased cultural respect for Romania and its people internationally. And yet with increased exposure come those other less ideal elements: crowds, lines, tourists filling public spaces to snap photos, overpriced amenities -- in short, the partitioning of cultural "worth" into a series of trolley stops and photographs, just as one does in Prague, or New York. Lest I sound too fanatical about this subject, I'll stop here. But I suppose all that I'm saying is that we should always try to be mindful of all that is being gained through development, and equally all that is being lost. Both aspects of the equation are equally fundamental to the process.

The final "whistle stop" on our tour was Bratislava, Slovakia, a city that was for over two centuries the capitol of the Kingdom of Hungary under the Habsburgs. And until 1919, it was called by its German name, Pressburg (some still call it this). Slovakia makes up the eastern half of former Czechoslovakia, and although the Slovaks and the Czechs share much in common culturally and linguistically, the Slovaks are proud of their modern independence and uniqueness. Slovakia traditionally played the part of the poorer, less developed, more rural partner in the Czechoslovakian duo. But after joining the European Union in 2004 with the Czech Republic, Poland and several others, the country has made growth a priority, and seems (as far as my eyes can tell) to be doing extremely well. Bratislava, like Krakow, is a city that has managed to keep a lower profile on the global tourism circuits, perhaps due to it being situated that much further east. Consequently, although the city is every bit as clean, well-maintained and photogenic as any number of other main attractions, you don't get the sense that it is absolutely overrun by tourists...at least not yet. As in Prague, we were only able to spend about a day in Bratislava, but the city is truly a jewel: smaller and less bustling (and certainly cheaper) than Prague, but with much the same medieval beauty.

And now I'm back, reinvigorated, for what is incredibly my final 6 months of Peace Corps service (my service officially concludes at the end of July). I recently heard that my fund application for trees and shrubs for our local park has been approved, and so we will hopefully be receiving the money, purchasing the plants, and putting them in the ground by early Spring. My town hall has already begun to replace sidewalks and benches, and so I am hugely excited by the idea that we will have a reborn public park by the time this next Summer rolls around! In addition, my once-a-week advanced English classes for working professionals continue in nearby Timişoara, as does the publishing of our local newspaper -- which we're hoping to put out monthly now (rather than 3-4 times a year). And starting this week, I am holding Movie Night for students at the local highschool, with a movie in English followed by a conversation about it, also in English. I'll let you know how it all goes...as I usually do.

Again, I hope everyone is rested, energized, and looking forward enthusiastically to all that this coming year has to offer. As always, I love to hear from people, about matters big and small. It won't be long before I'm able to sit down with some of you in person to trade stories. And considering how many important events I've missed back home lately (at last count: 7 weddings and 4 births since I've been in Romania)...I suppose it will soon be high time for me to start thinking about those gifts/cards I haven't bought!

Peace in the New Year.

Romanian Music, Vol. 3: Fanfara

"Fanfara" music (based around a brass "fanfare" ensemble) is another genre springing from the rich traditions of Roma ("Gypsy") culture. The make-up of the ensemble is usually really simple: brass and drums. With an often blistering tempo, and enough vitality and syncopation to burn down small towns, "fanfara" bands are usually the life of the party. Just check out the onlooking German band's response! This band is titled "Fanfara Transilvania" in the video.

Romanian Music, Vol. 2: Muzica populara

Romanian "muzica populara" (lit. "popular music") is a really broad category that generally refers to the many styles that make up more traditional, acoustic Romanian music. Usually it's a celebration of the whole "village" experience -- with traditional music, dress, dance, and food. And the instrument section is often comprised of strings, brass, drum(s), accordion, and dulcimer. Here's Ancuţa Anghel's "O data pe septamana" ("Once A Week").

Romanian Music, Vol. 1: Manele

Here's a little taste of "manele", Romanian pop strongly influenced by Roma ("Gypsy") musical traditions. Maybe a little like "reggaeton" music in the US, manele is a highly contentious subject among Romanians -- either you love it or you hate it. Here's Sorin "Copilul de aur" ("The Golden Child") and his "Ca$h Ca$h Full Full" which, as you can see, goes all out! Good luck getting this out of your head...

Foot Races and Stuffed Faces

Well folks, my journalistic talents (or motivation) seem to be on the wain, considering the fact that I've had fewer and fewer photos to show for myself recently -- and have thus been pirating more and more from my friends (case in point: above photo, courtesy of PCV Jesse Lee). Oh well, it must all mean that I'm devoting more and more of myself to the work at hand, immersing myself in the process of international collaboration...or something.

Don't be fooled by the distinct lack of any real photographic proof: November was yet another "luna ocupata" (busy month) around here. Just before Thanksgiving, a group of us volunteers got together in Zalau (northern Transylvania) to help with the running of Special Olympics -- this being the second year that Special Olympics events have taken place in various locations around Romania. The Zalau event was organized by the Romania chapter of the Prader-Willi Syndrome Association (where my fellow volunteer Dave Donaldson works) and featured various events, from soccer, to relay races, to table-tennis. Around 100 local children and young-adults with special needs participated, and everyone received medals, certificates, and bag-dinners. The day even ended with a pretty incredible exhibition of local break-dancing skills by some of the kids. All in all, it was a wonderful time for everyone, and I'm glad that Romania's special-needs population can now benefit from the comaraderie and self-esteem that Special Olympics emphasizes. After all, we could all use some positive-reinforcement now and then.

Immediately after the Special Olympics, I headed back south to Arad, where we PC volunteers from western Romania celebrated our second Thanksgiving together, along with various Romanian friends and colleagues. The event was held at the impressive new conference center recently built within the national park where my fellow volunteer John Thompson works, and it didn't disappoint. With the help of the roughly 15 PC volunteers and 35 Romanian guests in attendance, we put together quite a meal -- with rabbit chili, grilled turkey, mashed potatoes, various salads and casseroles, cornbread, and every type of American and Romanian pie imaginable. The heavyweight champ (at least with my host family)?: pecan pie! Anyway, it was a great time, and we Yankees were happy to share just a little more of ourselves and our culture with our Romanian friends. And this being the last Romanian Thanksgiving for most of us volunteers who arrived a year-and-a-half ago, the day had a twinge of bittersweetness to it. Thanksgiving has always been such a wonderful holiday, in my mind, because it is a celebration distilled down to the basic element of "breaking bread together" -- no hypermanic Christmas-gift shopping, no race to outdo your neighbor's decorative, pathological lawn-lighting scheme, no griping that there are no more first-class tickets to Gstad for New Year's. No, Thanksgiving has always been about enjoying each other's company, pure and simple...well, that and stuffing yourself to an extent that would give your cardiologist nightmares.

Because I have no photos for you to feast your eyes on this month, I thought perhaps I'd start a little discussion on the best in Romanian music, since I'm sure this is a subject many of you are curious about. And so the next few postings will be devoted to particular types of Romanian music, all of which embody the culturally rich and diverse terrain of Romania. Enjoy, and do let me know what you think!

Peace, have a terrific December, and I'll check in with everyone around Christmas.

Of Pumpkins, Frost and...Giant Burgers?

As I steam full-speed-ahead into my second (second!) autumn in Romania, I've long since realized that for a Peace Corps volunteer, there's no such thing as a dull day -- with the possible exception of those hours of standing in line to pick up packages at the Customs Office. Which are well worth it, incidentally...

But at any rate, October was as rich, active and colorful as ever, filled with those moments large and small that continue to remind me of what a extraordinary gift it is for me to be here, doing this. The common conception of the Peace Corps may abound with heroic images of building schools, walking on water, and stopping speeding bullets with a single, charitable glance (all of which do happen). But I often feel that the true nature of the Peace Corps is often best expressed in a series of subtle, ephemeral, all-too-easily-overlooked moments: a sidewalk conversation with a Romanian neighbor, a stroke of face-paint to a child's face, the sharing of a meal. A few days ago, I stopped along my jogging route to help a local farmer push a loaded wagon out of the road into his driveway. It would have been easy to overlook the moment as meaningless, and only later as I puffed home did I realize that it is often through "meaningless" little moments like this that mutual respect and understanding -- on the personal level and on the global level -- is truly established, even when little is said. One of our primary roles, as volunteers, is to help our home and adopted nations (both of which we love) to understand more about each other, celebrate our differences, and recognize all that we have in common. And this task is accomplished equally well in the line at the grocery store as at the office.

One of this past month's most enjoyable experiences was taking part in the American Festival organized by my friend and fellow volunteer Dan Tirrell and his mayor's office, in the town of Jimbolia (about 1.5 hours from me, on the other side of Timisoara). The roughly 20 of us PC volunteers who showed up were given the job of representing what we feel to be important elements of American culture to local school children, through a series of stations (American sports culture, American and Romanian history in parallel, opportunities for volunteerism in the U.S., etc.). The two-day event was attended by students, the Mayor and representatives of the local town hall, local media, and town residents. Romanians learned about Joe DiMaggio and Kerri Scruggs, a volunteer read from Walt Whitman, and a local food-kiosk owner specially prepared a 75-kg (150 lb.) cheeseburger that blew everyone's minds! In other words, a fun and educational time was had by all.

Following the festival, I returned to my hometown of Recas to accompany my host family and family friend Zeno on a wagon-ride through the hills northeast of my town. The air was crisp, the changing leaves were resplendent, and I came away with a newfound appreciation for work-horses and the people who take care of them. As I've written in the past, horse-drawn wagons (called a "caruţă" in Romanian) are still commonly used by Romanians in rural communities for transportation and load-hauling. And you'll often see them ambling along the shoulders of major roads and highways. Oftentimes, particularly in poorer communities, a horse-drawn wagon is the only affordable mode of transportation, given how expensive even second- or third-hand automobiles are for many families' incomes. When it rains, you and your horse (and whatever you're hauling) get wet! But anyway, a wagon-ride is a wonderful way of enjoying the stunning, traditional Romanian countryside that still blankets the vast, vast majority of this country. Electricity was a promise the Romanian government made (and largely kept) to its large and small communities during Communism, but much otherwise in these rural villages still points to a previous age. Many people, for instance, still go without centralized heating or plumbing, as in my town. When I ask particularly older Romanians about this situation, they will typically just shrug their shoulders and get back to what they were doing. "Modernity will arrive when it arrives." And too many promises have been made and broken in the past for them to get their hopes up.

In conclusion, it has been a terrific Fall thus far, and the coming weeks and months promise much, with the approach of the holidays. Will we treat our Romanian friends to a deep-fried turkey at Thanksgiving, like last year? Will I be singing American gospel music at Christmas with my local church choir (which was sent over by my saintly mom)? Will we organize a town Christmas Festival, as I hope to do with my coworkers?

Stay tuned and find out. In the meantime, enjoy the photos, and don't forget to make the most of those fleeting but beautiful moments that we all experience in our lives -- that reaffirm our commitments to ourselves and to one another. Happy November!

Fire It Up!!

This past weekend ushered in my long-sought, much-dreamed-about BBQ party here at the family house in Recas. For some time now, I had this vision of Romanians, Americans and whoever else is crazy enough to accept one of my invitations, celebrating and grilling together. And considering how beautiful a month September is in western Romania, I jumped at the opportunity. Thus various Peace Corps volunteers from all over the country joined my Romanian family, friends and coworkers for some American-style hamburgers -- with a sprinkling of Romanian dishes (e.g. "sarmale": rice and meat rapped in cabbage leaves) to balance it all out.

Afterall, Romanians love to grill (and shoot the breeze, and dance, and...) as much as Americans do. And so, before the first frost of real autumn arrives, we ate, drank, and enjoyed each other's company, well into the wee-hours...and somehow, managed not to burn my host family's house down (much to the relief of the neighborhood). My friend and fellow volunteer Adam even introduced some lucky Romanians to a new use for Jell-O (ask a college student). The evening was an incredible success, and will be even more so if my host family doesn't kick me out! Be sure to check out the photos on Picasa.

Note: I've also added some online photos I recently uncovered from a Habitat For Humanity build I took part in with some of my volunteer friends last November (see "November 2007 Cont'd" on my Picasa site). I can never get tired of seeing families in need (and their children) receiving the keys to their newly-built house. And this event was an interesting follow-up to my architectural work in Charlottesville immediately before departing for Romania -- where I was managing a Habitat For Humanity house design for my firm.

The Second Lap

Well, as usual much has happened and little has been said about it since I last wrote. What can I say? I'm not a chatty, pithy, everyday sort of blogger (not that there's anything wrong with that). You'd all probably grow bored with my ramblings anyway, and tune out...well, even more than usual, that is.

The summer has been filled with trips, meetings, and conferences, and August was no exception. In mid-August, my colleagues Andreea, Victor and I traveled to Sighisoara (central Romania) for the "Pro-Etnica" Festival, highlighting the incredible diversity of ethnicities represented in this country: Romanian, Hungarian, Roma (Gypsy), Jewish, Croat, Serb, German, Bulgarian, Turkish...there was even an American-style blues band one night (apparently Americans are now recognized as an ethnic group here, which is great news). Our plan was to learn more about the logistics of running such a festival, since my own town of Recas will be hosting its own local cultural festival next summer. Of course we had fun as well.

Next it was off to the tiny resort hamlet of Venus on the Romanian Black Sea coast, for my Peace Corps class's Mid-Service Training Conference (*the photo above is of all of us Peace Corps volunteers in the Community Economic Development sector in Romania). MID-SERVICE!! Holy sputtering Dacias, it causes me some serious pause to consider that my time here in Eastern Europe is now more than half over. It has been an extraordinary past 16 months: never have I ceased to learn, to grow, to gain confidence in myself and in my fellow humans, and to wonder at the diversity and potential of the world we live in. True, almost every moment is a challenge in some way -- very rarely does my brain stop having to work -- and the hi's and low's can be pretty intense. But I can safely say I've gained a newfound appreciation for even our seemingly most most minor victories. At the end of the day, a step forward is a step forward. Of course I've also gained an appreciation for the fleetness of time. Timpul zboare, as Romanians say ("Time flies.") I'm very much looking forward to the second year of my service, and my enhanced ability (on a good day) for interacting with my community and seeing projects through. And yet I realize it will also be something of a race against the clock. To paraphrase Dickens' Ghost of Christmas Yet To Come, "There is never enough time to do or say all the things that we would wish. The key is to do what we can with the time we have." Amen to that.

In other news, I followed the conference at the beach with a quick trip to my friend Mark's village of Adamclisi in southeastern Romania. Now a quiet little village of 1,500 people, the town is known mainly for the impressive Roman ruins and monument sitting nearby (*see the photos). The ruins trace back to Emperor Trajan's final defeat of the native Dacian tribes on that spot in A.D. 107 or 108. As in other parts of the country, Nicholae Ceasescu rebuilt elements of the original structures for use in national parades and ceremonies during the '70s and '80s.

And finally, I'll be having a big BBQ/campout at my host family's house in Recas in a couple of weeks. It should be an interesting assortment of Peace Corps volunteers, Romanians, and other foreign expats. Hosting such a big inter-cultural shindig at my place (the neighborhood won't know what hit it) has been a dream of mine for a while now. I'll let you hear and see how it all goes. You're all invited, of course, though those plane tickets to Eastern Europe can get pricey.

Just as a further note: as I pass the halfway point and find myself getting just a wee bit sentimental, I'm also curious about how things are for many of you out there who I haven't heard from in a while. I'd love to get a sentence or two from everyone, outlining the who, where, what, how and why of your current lives. It could even just be: "Moe, I'm well. Stop bothering me." We volunteers treat new mail/emails like Christmas presents!

Balkan Odyssey

*Map courtesy of Yale University Library Online

After three terrific weeks on the road, spanning much of the western Balkan Peninsula (and most of former Yugoslavia), I am once again back in Romania -- not necessarily rested, but reinvigorated for my second year of Peace Corps work. More than anything, the trip has underscored for me how far the Balkan countries have come since the revolutions and wars of the late 1980's and 1990's , both physically and psychologically. Though they were dodging snipers and mortar shells on their way to the store less than 15 years ago, Sarajevans are prospering and ready to move on. Though beautiful coastal jewels like Dubrovnik were heavily damaged during the war, Croatians have quickly rebuilt and are flush with the profits of international tourism. And then there is Slovenia, almost indistinguishable from its neighbors to the West and North (Italy and Austria) in its advanced level of development.

Each Balkan country is having to chart modernization on its own terms, and define its own priorities in this age of rapid growth. All have unique potentials and problems, and yes, the pace of development contrasts starkly between the various countries -- but this is a testament to independence: each nation is charged with making its own way, assisted by external aid but unfettered by external control. This is truly an exciting time to be living and working in the Balkans, and this trip has revealed to me many of the best-kept-secrets of Eastern Europe that are only now beginning to attract international tourists. Following are some quick notes about the various stopping-points on our trip (*be sure to checkout the photos as well, at the link to the right):

Belgrade, Serbia:
I've described Belgrade once before, back in early Spring, and so perhaps will let you look back on that posting for a fuller picture of the city (I didn't take many photos this time either). Suffice to say, however, that Belgrade is an even more beautiful and wonderful city in the height of Summer. It's strikingly tall, gorgeous Serbian residents stroll through the parks and along the Danube, sit at sidewalk cafes, and wile the night away at the floating bars that line the river's edge. Romania and Serbia share a border and, at least from my brief observations, a similar contrast in infrastructure and development between urban and rural areas. Like Timisoara here in Romania, Belgrade is a city working feverishly to pull itself out of its recent torpor -- and succeeding pretty handily on that count. I haven't traveled yet to Kosovo, the heavily-contested region in southern Serbia, and have received varying reports about the safety of doing so. But if there is unquestionably one place one must visit while in Serbia, it is this terrific city, which has managed to happily surprise everyone I know who has visited.

Novi Sad, Serbia:
I've been told that Novi Sad, in the north of the country, is Serbia's second largest city after Belgrade. It is, however, a much quieter, more relaxed urban center, without the bustle you'd expect from a major city. Sitting serenely between the mountains and the Sava River, Novi Sad seems content with keeping a low profile, and revealing its charms in an understated way.

This being said, Novi Sad recently hosted the EXIT Festival, one of Eastern Europe's largest "Lollapalooza"-type music festival, drawing performers and camping concert-goers from all over Europe. Some fellow volunteers attended, and said it was a lot of fun. Overall, Novi Sad would make a great day trip if you find yourself with time to kill in Belgrade, but I wouldn't call it a Serbian "must-see".

Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina:
Looking back at photographs from the 1984 Winter Olympics, Sarajevo was truly one of the world's most stunning cities, surrounded by immaculate, fir-treed mountains on all sides. It is perhaps a testament not only to this latent beauty but to how far Sarajevo has come in recent years, that even after 4 years of constant siege during the 1991-95 war (with up to 300 shells and sniper bullets pummeling the city each day), Sarajevo is still stunning - even with its ubiquitous shrapnel pock-marks and the empty hulks of firebombed buildings. Since medieval Ottoman rule, the city has been a model of cultural diversity and harmony, with Orthodox Bosnian Serbs, Catholic Croats, Jews, and Bosnian Muslims (Bosniaks) living tightly together. This did not change during with war, with all of the above groups contributing to the defense of the city against the besieging Bosnian Serb militias (there were Bosnian Serbs fighting on both sides). The new graveyards established to accommodate the casualties of that war attest to the diversity of those who were fighting together.

It's humbling to walk down streets where, only 12 years ago, a trip to buy bread at the store might get you killed from sniper fire; or to stand in the surrounding hills and experience the same jaw-dropping vistas the Bosnian Serb army saw as they fired shells into the city below. It's also a testament, thankfully, to how quickly things can change. Rather than fearing for their lives, Sarajevans now concern themselves with catering to the ever-growing hordes of travelers. Sarajevo always seems to find itself at the crossroads of war (WW I, the Balkan War, etc.). I can only hope it's next chapter in history is a more peaceful one.

Dubrovnik, Croatia:
Jutting out on a spit of land into the impossibly blue, impossibly clear Adriatic Sea separating the Balkans from Italy, Dubrovnik could easily be mistaken (in all but price) for the Riviera -- like much of the Balkan Adriatic coast. And judging from its idyllic setting and strategic positioning, it's easy to see why Dubrovnik (Ragusa until WW I) was coveted by so many empires: Slavs, Venetians, Ottomans, Napoleon, and the Habsburgs. The walled old-town section is a striking Renaissance jewel: almost completely surrounded by water; defended on all sides by formidable battlements; constructed from head to toe (including streets) of the immaculate white travertine marble that is abundant throughout the region.

As you will see from the photos, the Croatian coast is an exceedingly dry landscape, comprised mainly of rock and low scrub brush (northern Mexico also comes to mind). The rocky shoreline is starkly beautiful, but won't be a welcome sight to anyone looking for sandy beaches (they've imported a few, here and there, for tourists). The thousands of islands that line the coast mean that one could spend weeks hopping from one to the next, via ferry, kayak, sailboat, etc. I got the sense that there would never be enough time to truly get to know the thousands of miles of serrated Croatian coastline. We did take a boat-trip one afternoon between a few of the smaller islands (many of which have one or more small villages of their own), and we spent one night on Korcula Island which, along with Hvar and Mljet, are perhaps the most visited islands in souther Croatia.

Plitvice National Park, central Croatia:
The elaborate series of natural terraces, pools, and waterfalls you see in Plitvice (which descend several hundred meters in elevation) are the product of the mineral travertine, which produces travertine marble as its sediments collect. Without getting too geeky-scientific here, travertine sediments in the park's flowing waters have built-up over millions of years, forming natural dams that, in turn, have created various levels of terraced pools. The high mineral content also lends the water an extraordinary clear, blue brilliance that easily comes through in the photos. Nothing here is fake!: all is exactly as it looks in real life. The uniqueness of this spectacular landscape has won for it protected status as a UNESCO World Heritage Site. Any trip to Croatia should include a stop in this magnificent park.

Rovinj, Croatia:
Sitting on the western coast of the Istrian Peninsula, near Croatia's northern border with Slovenia, Rovinj is only 100km or so from Italy and Venice - and with its brightly-colored, closely-packed buildings skirting the water's edge, you can feel that proximity. Like Dubrovnik, old Rovinj (Rovigno in Italian) is perched out on a spit of land surrounded by water, like Dubrovnik it was vied for by a succession of different empires, and like Dubrovnik the town is a living postcard image. Because most (non-Italian) tourists had traditionally headed further south to Croatia's Dalmation Coast to vacation, the Istrian Peninsula was known for being a somewhat quieter and more relaxed region than its Croatian neighbors. Due to more recent coverage in the NY Times and elsewhere however, this is quickly changing. While still not as bustling as Dubrovnik or Split, towns like Rovinj are getting noticed, and with good reason: they have all of the beauty of the Mediterranean further west, while being much cheaper...well, for anyone other than a Peace Corps Volunteer!

Pula, Croatia:
Our terrific week-long amble through Croatia ended in this pretty, medium-size town on the southern tip of the Istrian Peninsula, before crossing the border into Slovenia. Pula's establishment as a Roman settlement is still evidenced by a variety of Roman ruins scattered around town: a coliseum (pictured to right), a triumphal arch, an open-air amphitheatre, a temple, and a variety of odds and ends (there's literally a heap of Roman stone artifacts next to the amphitheatre). Due to the major shipyard in town, and to the fact that the guidebook wasn't overly enthralled with the place, we weren't expecting much out of our visit to Pula -- and were pleasantly surprised: Nice pedestrian streets, cafes, restaurants, and then of course that incredible blue sea nearby. The reality is that, when you visit Croatia, you are immediately confronted with a dilemma as to which if the countless beautiful coastal towns and cities to visit (in and out of the guidebooks). Sometimes it's nice to get off the beaten path a little bit, to towns like Pula that, although not necessarily raved about in the travel books, offer quite a lot.

Note: My Romanian friends reading this will have already noticed that Pula shares its name with the Romanian term for, uhh, a crucial part of the male anatomy.

Ljubljana, Slovenia:
Slovenia is a country that, to my mind, demonstrates the absolute diversity of countries categorized as "Balkan". Although they (marginally) share the South Slavic language group, and although they were once both part of Yugoslavia, Slovenia and Serbia (for example) look and feel like completely different cultures. While Serbia has the unquestionable feel of a Slavic country and peoples, Slovenia could just as easily be Austria or northern Italy. The point has been made that, among Yugoslavian countries, Slovenia maintained the closest connection to Western European ideals and culture, throughout Communism. And today it's clear that, whatever advantages it may have had over it's Balkan neighbors, it has capitalized on them. Much the same as with Croatia, foreign money and involvement have put Slovenian infrastructure on the fast-track to "first world" standards.

As for Ljubljana itself (it's close enough to say "Loob-yanna"), the Slovenian capitol is a calm but urbane center of culture, only 2-3 hours from Vienna. It is bordered on the north by the dramatic Julian Alps, a region of intense fighting during the Second World War. You could probably spend all day (and all night) hopping between the cafes bordering the winding Ljubljanica River on both banks. And since we weren't particularly in a museum state-of-mind, this is more or less what we did! Although we were constantly awed by the jutting Julian Alps looming in the distance, we didn't have the chance to take a trip into the mountains this time. It's amazing how quickly 3 weeks can go.

Budapest, Hungary:
Budapest is another city I've covered in past postings, and since I was only really able to stop over for the night here (I had a wedding to get back for), my latest experiences wouldn't add much to what I've said about it. It should go without saying that Budapest is a terrific place whose level of development and infrastructure, like Ljubljana's, rivals any in Western Europe. As with just about any other city in Europe, I would recommend visiting in Spring or Fall, when the weather is cool and pleasant, the prices are cheaper, and crowds of tourists aren't trampling you on their way to the next tour stop. Frankly, I haven't visited many places that wouldn't be even nicer in September than in July.

Just as a conclusion to what I've said here (and in the past), I can't emphasize enough how strongly I recommend Eastern Europe as a travel destination...whether you see it while I'm here or not! And sooner rather than later. The Balkans, like so many other developing parts of the world, is changing at almost unfathomable pace -- and at this moment you have the opportunity to see the colliding of the "old" order with the new, and the positive and negative ramifications of this process. Eastern Europe is, in the minds of many Westerners, essentially a dirty word, saddled with various stigmas about Communism, corruption, and crime. And while elements of this darker side certainly persist, there is much about the Balkans that is as unknown to the outside world as it is wonderful. For every example like Croatia, there are myriad other "hidden jewels" in this region that await exposure. Yes, one must be willing to be an adventurous, flexible, and patient traveler in the Balkans: transportation, toilet facilities, and pricing charts always keep you on your toes, without a doubt. But once you have surmounted these issues, the world they open you up to is one worth the effort.

And don't believe all the rumors. After a year, I have yet to run into a black market gunrunner (though we're pretty sure they were smuggling tablecloths on the train to Serbia).

Enjoy the rest of the Summer, wherever it takes you...