5 November 2021

Sunshine pours through the leaves that have not yet fallen and I summon the energy to do those things on my list.  Sorting through and editing and searching for certain photos that will not leave my memory but from there I cannot post them!

Eugeniu is picking up the trash the children leave on the street in stead of putting them in the red bucket he has put in a convenient place for them.  My chores are in process and I am grateful for these days filled with the small blessings that come.  And there are those remembered blessings such as the flowers that grow - we still have some beautiful red roses!  The picture that comes to mind is the one given to us by our neighbor - flowers that she shared with us from the garden of her sister in a neighboring village. 

Now that we both have our proof of vaccine on our phones I feel much easier about Eugeniu going out and about to take care of the many things that need to be done and those things that need to be purchased.  We are so fortunate to have excellent delivery service for online purchases and using a credit card makes it safer by handling currency. 

Now that the pandemic has changed almost everything I see that we have been fortunate all these years in having opportunities and experiences that we no longer can.

So checking my entries I found a repeat, but this story has not been posted on this blog as yet.

It was not my first trip to the seashore but the adventure was unique.  Now I find drafts annoying to say the least.

                      On the Train

The Canal, the Black Sea, and Barbeque Constanta Style

By Nancy C. Rice

Copyright © 1997

 

The old couple on the train was afraid of drafts!  They smelled so bad.  In first class yet! 

The train ride toward Constanta had been glorious.  I had a book to read, newspapers to scan and paper for writing, but I could not keep my eyes from the window where I could see the red poppies along the track filling the bare spaces beside the track.  Alongside fields and road ways the poppies sometimes crowded out the wheat with huge patches of orange red.  The gardens were lush; the corn, knee-high.  Pale gold wheat covered the rounded hills.  These remnants of an ancient mountain range stop sharply at the edge of the Black Sea.

The rich history of the port city of Constanta reaches back in time at least to the 6th Century B. C. when the port of Tomis was established by the Greeks.  If you climb the tower of the mosque from Byzantine times, there is a splendid view of the old port.  Nearby the ancient Roman market is on display below the historical museum where Ovid’s statue stands guard.

After our business meeting, our host’s driver took us on a tour through Mamaia, beyond the huge oil refinery at Petromedia.  He showed us land given to the revolutionaries which is now available for sale at a good rate because the owners have no money to build on it.  We drove past a rock quarry, high up a hill to a fantastic view of Petromedia’s port.  This land would be perfect to develop a factory for products made from the chips at the quarry or other complementary types of production.  Our driver left us at a new restaurant in Navodari where enjoyed a lovely view of the Suitghiol Lake from our table on the terrace.  The salad was refreshing, crisp and savory.  My perch was bland, but Eugen ordered a different and tastier fish.  The vegetables had been boiled beyond possibility of flavor.  I was sad to miss the hearty and delicious flavor of Romanian vegetables, but we enjoyed the pleasant and restful ambiance.

We walked across the park to the beach at Mamaia where we found a spot to put our towels on the sand.  We enjoyed the sun and a dip and a wade in the icy cold water of the Black Sea.  I longed for the warm surf of the Gulf of Mexico.  There were tiny jelly fish pulsing amid the clouds of dark green algae gradually making way to the shore.  The beach was crowded.  Children scampered in various stages of beach dress and undress as they played with balls.  Crashing into the shallow water, they were oblivious of the algae and of the sun baking delicate, fair skin.  Paddle boats for hire sat lonely on the shoreline.  There was a monkey on a chain available for poses in front of the vendor’s camera. Other vendors had tiny cars with little palm trees riding atop the trunk.  Most surprising and most glorious of all was the camel.  At first sight, Eugen said, “It is not real.”  When it moved, he said, “Oh, it IS real!”  He could not be persuaded to pose with it.

We walked along the edge of the water hoping to find another place, one free of the tiny creatures swarming everywhere and most uncomfortably on our skin -- face, legs, arms, back, anywhere.  We walked farther from the shore but could not escape them.  The terrace of a refreshment stand had white tables with tiny black slashes covering the tops.   We ate Ice Cream on a stick.

A taxi took us back to the home of our host in Constanta where we were welcomed by our hostess who reminded us of our invitation for a barbeque.

 After freshening up, we found Aura in the kitchen preparing fried squash to go with the plump green olives, red and green peppers, fresh tasty bread, and cascaval (cheese) that were served.  We sat in the patio between the freshly painted stone walls of surrounding buildings.   One wall, pristine in its whiteness, reminiscent of Greece, provided a backdrop for one huge, glorious thistle, just ready to bloom.  It grew at the edge of the patio in a small crack.  Petre said he kept it because it was as tough as a cactus.  Petre’s twenty or more years as a sea captain has taught him much about toughness.

Friendly neighbors joined us for a pleasant evening.  After a while, Aura climbed a ladder to a loft from whence came the wood she dropped in a sling to Petre.  He placed the logs in the standing metal pit, so much like our own at home.  The flames roared tall, then settled in.  Over the hot coals, fish on the rack cooked slowly to a golden sheen.  We ate with vigor.  I recognized and commented on the similarities.  In Texas, we may put beef on the grill, but the neighbors and the camaraderie are the same.

We talked late into the evening.  Huge drops of rain drove us in doors where we topped off the evening nibbling on sunflower seeds and the evening news.

The next morning the driver took us to see the Constanta Free Zone in the South Port.  It was a fascinating sight.  We continued south not quite as far as that other ancient port now called Mangalia, known as Calatis to the Greeks.  We left a message for a friend at a hotel in Eforie Sud and stopped for refreshment in Eforie Nord.  The view was splendid.  It was a pleasant trip.  We are fortunate to find such good friends.

 

On the train -- not the faster Inter city -- we have stopped at Medgidia on the Danube-Black Sea Canal -- heading for Bucharest.  I think of Harry Truman’s saying, “The buck stops here.”  Last week the news featured a picture of a group of skeletons in chains recently found somewhere along this canal.  I want to know where it was on this route we take.  These bones are all that is left of these workers who dug this huge trench that shortens passage from the Danube to the Black Sea.  Who is responsible?  Is it only at the top?  Surely Truman meant that his was the last chance to say:  “No.  Stop.  Find another way.”  Not, definitely not, the first.  He also meant that his, too, is the last stop in the chain of taking responsibility for the consequences.  What is it in our nature that allows us to treat other human beings in such a brutal manner?

We approach Cernavoda, the Danube port where the Canal begins.  We can see the towers of the nuclear energy plant across the water.            The sign says Cernavoda Pod, meaning Bridge.  There is a lone black lacy wrought iron cross standing against a background of purple spumed weeds between the tracks.  Not enough for so many dead, but enough to mark my wonder at how it happened that way.  I heard later that this cross was placed there for those who died in the early nineteen fifties while building this canal.

We are near the archeological site where the ancient clay figures of Sitting Woman and Thinking Man were found.  Could this prehistoric potter have seen the future?  Did this artisan wonder if humans would ever learn to cultivate cooperation, creativity, justice and kindness?  Did Rodin see these before he sculpted his more famous statue?

We cross the Danube beside Saligny’s Bridge.  This engineering marvel built over a hundred years ago is being restored.  It was the first bridge of that size in Europe at that time.  Soldiers stand at attention in groups of four at intervals along the track.

We stop again.  It is hot.  A deeply embedded odor penetrates every corner of this compartment.  The old man puts on his coat when Eugeniu opens the window.  It is not cold.  There is no accounting for the body’s ability to tolerate temperatures.  He swelters because he is afraid that the breeze will make him sick.

There are more soldiers along the track.  Hats fan the hot air along the tracks.  The train slows but does not stop. As we travel towards Bucharest, I notice fresh new paint at each station.  It is like a blessing.  An engine newly dressed in brilliant red is attaching itself to the train two tracks over.  The rows of chairs where passengers wait for the next train have fresh coats of vivid blue paint.  The whole appearance of the station changes with this one small touch.  Are these bright colors making up for all the years of drab?  Is that why nothing was maintained?  To keep the people down, out, uninspired, lethargic?  Do these colors wake them up?  Inspire?  Energize?  Or has it all been spent enduring?  Waiting for this better leader, one who gives without the paralyzing limits of unreasoned control?  Making a place where it is possible for each of us to say, “The buck stops here.  What I do counts.”  It is like the ripple on a pond when a pebble falls, a circle going out and one does not know where they go or what will boomerang a surprise to you.

North of the Danube at Cernavoda, the land is flat as far as the eye can see.  Tiny lines of the poplars on the horizon mark a passage way through grain fields nearly ripe for harvest.  The open window does not provide relief when the door remains closed.  I remember the fear of drafts and try to understand the long term difficulties that cause anyone to live with smelly clothes.  I caution myself about pointing fingers, casting stones and walking in another person’s shoes.  Nevertheless, this Texas girl needs fresh air.

            As for responsibility and consequences, so many pebbles are thrown into the pond that all of us claim it is the ripple of another stone, certainly not ours.  My knees ache more fiercely riding along the Danube Canal.  It is so huge beside the tiny human figure.  I wonder what “boss,” what ideology, what ignorance, what hatred for other people, what fear drives the ordinary human to obey, to pass along, the orders of those deranged enough to conceive, and carry out, a plan so immense by such cruel means.  A picture pops into my mind and the question posed becomes its opposite.  When and where was it done any other way?  And I understand then that this is the struggle that democracy permits.  Just and equitable processes to achieve great results exist.  They are possible.  The struggle will never end.

When the train pulled into the antique station at Bucur Obor rather than our usual Main North Station, my husband, Eugeniu said, “It is all the same.  We are in Bucharest again.”  The taxi windows were tightly closed.  It was hot and did not have air conditioning, but we were almost home.   Soon we passed through thick walls into the coolness of our apartment and enjoyed a refreshing gentle breeze.  It was a good trip.

 Back from the dentist and am amazed at modern technology!  The crown was made right there!  After the long process of polishing the tooth that needed a crown after that saving of the broken one that had to have root canals first - awful process, but well done.  The tooth was captured on the computer program which then gave the information to the one that made the crown.  Right while I was waiting!  Once in place an impression was made for a new defense against bruxism which will be delivered to me by courier when it is ready!  Wow!  Glad to be home after this long but pain free process.

Dental processes are so much improved since I first came that I am stunned by the advances in technology and the training of dentists into specialties that provide the best treatment at our dental clinic.  Such a long way from early days here when I had to caution the dentist about sanitary procedures because she did not seem to know about them.

The days have grown cooler.

Thursday now and I have been busy all day with various things.  The best is making the granola which is delicious and healthy, too!  Then there is the new project - rooting cuttings from the hydrangea bushes on the side of the house.  I made a rooting liquid with the ends of branches of the willow tree and followed directions for putting the cuttings in potting soil.  Will be amazing to me if they grow though I was able to do so with lavender cuttings some time ago.  We have enjoyed having them bloom for a few years now.

 Saturday comes so fast these days!  so many days without rain and thus watering has been the order of the last few days.  Popcorn and black-eyed peas are growing and maybe there will be some zucchini at last.

I harvested one beet and prepared the greens quickly before they wilted.  Braising is the simplest way to prepare beet greens. Here's how to do it:

Rinse leaves and stems to remove grit from the leaves.  Cut the stem and the thick part of the center rib from each leaf by folding the leaf in half along the rib. Chop the stems and leaves separately. 

Sauté in olive oil over medium heat some chopped onion and minced garlic until softened - 1 to 5 minutes.

Add the stems to the skillet along with 1/3 cup water and salt to taste.  Braise the chopped stems, covered until tender (4 to 6 minutes). 

Finally, add the chopped leaves (and a few tablespoons of water if the pan looks dry) and simmer, covered, stirring occasionally, until the leaves are tender - 3 to 4 minutes.  Season with salt and pepper.

They were so delicious that they vanished quickly!

The tomato plants in Eugeniu's tomato and pepper garden give forth such a bounteous harvest that we must preserve them for later use.  Delicious eaten fresh from the garden, but so is the  tomato juice and the dried tomatoes in olive oil are probably waiting for winter.   

Just now the delivery from Bringo has come.  Delivery within two hours!  Ordering online though sometimes brings surprises like the size of what has been ordered.  Sometimes what looks just right is not.  Ah well, usually it will do.  Example being the baking paper just purchased.  At least I can cut it to the size I need.

The story for today is a very long one about getting the car to Bucharest and all that was involved in that long journey:

Bucharest to Bremen to Bucharest

 

Wednesday, March 6, 1996

 We are in a compartment on a train from Budapest to Berlin on our way to Bremen to get the car.  Before we left Valentin and Dorian paid us a visit.  Valentin has begun the repair of his broken front tooth.  Dorian, aged 16, wants us to call when we get to his mother’s house and then again when we get home so he will know we are safe.

 We went to get the car insurance Tuesday morning.  The agent Florian had told me on Monday that I should ask for him because we have a special case. $24 for a green card sounded good to me compared to 290DM in Bremen.  Title and registration and we get insurance for 14 days to move the car through customs and back to Bucharest.   When we got to the agency, it was not so.  The car must be registered in Romania.  Okay, so let’s register it.  The car must be here to register it.  But the car is in Bremen as I told you on the telephone.  Crazy making rules or outright lies?  How could any car ever enter Romania if it must be registered here before you can bring it here and it must be here to be registered?  Eugeniu worked it out and, for $10 under the papers on the desk of the clerk, they agreed to fill out and issue the proper papers for the green card insurance at insurance office #1.  Then we were taken by a young man to office #2 where the second set of papers were issued by a surly woman in a very small office where a clerk was checking files on her lap without any sign of a desk or even a table.  This last set of papers provided coverage for the car when it entered Romania.  By the time we achieved those tasks, it was too late to go back to the bank to see if the wire transfer had arrived.

At 11:30 P. M. the taxi arrived.  He flew over the smooth places and dodged as many holes in the road as he could.  The sleeping car on the train was one of the new ones.  It was very comfortable and clean.  I slept between stops in spite of the awful grinding of the car against the engine as we traveled toward Hungary.  Customs officers examined and stamped our passports and questioned us about our belongings.  They cautioned us about taking more than $5,000 out of Romania -- I wish!  

Eugeniu said, “Hungary is cleaner.”  We could see the difference in the villages with nicely paved streets and neat houses in rows with yards empty of all but snow and children’s swings.

 In Budapest we checked our tickets at the international ticket window.  “Wait for the conductor to arrange a sleeping compartment.” We were told that they could not make such arrangements.  We took the Metro and rode under the Danube to Buda from Pest.   The Metro was packed, but it was clean and neat.  The people were well dressed - more colorful clothing than in Bucharest and the people seemed more prosperous.

 In Buda we had a spectacular view of the Parliament across the Danube in Pest and of the Casa de Bello high on the hill to our right.  The Danube wasn’t blue but the bridge near the castle was an intricate and beautiful site.  The little market was half handicrafts and half flea market.  We walked around to get a closer view of the castle and the bridge, had coffee and tea at a small restaurant, and looked at three of the churches in this old historic area.  Some of the buildings are 2-3 feet lower than street level.  An antique shop had some beautiful paintings and a marvelous old desk and small wooden boxes.  We had not changed enough money, so back at the station we changed more to buy some water for the train and fruit and pistachios and peanuts and a couple of Cokes.

 When we found the conductor, he said that our tickets were for the train, but not for the sleeping car.  For $75 we could have a compartment and we would get our receipt in the morning.  He said we should go on to Berlin arriving at 8:30 instead of changing trains at Dresden at 6:00 A. M.  Nice car - Hungarian - brand new - comfortable.  He proudly showed us the shower compartment.    So here we are at 9:00 P. M. Hungarian time speeding toward Berlin, via Prague, and tomorrow we’ll be driving back toward Bucharest via Vienna where we’ll see Nancy and Gustav Posch (Regina Pino’s sister and brother-in-law).  And I don’t know how long any of this driving will take.  This train ride is certainly a long one!

Bratislava - passport check for Czech.

March 7, 1996

6 A. M. Another passport check - twice.  They always check twice.

Germany - Dresden.  I think we should get off here to get the train to Hannover, but the conductor has disappeared.  The mistake of the ticket change took us to what was once called West Berlin, Lichtenstein station, where we had to wait an hour and a half for a train to Hannover as we had just missed the last one.  There we get another train to Bremen.  We will not arrive as scheduled - two hours later and one more train than the original ticket, plus another 20 DM for the tickets for these two trains.  We were lucky to find a bank across the street from the station in Berlin.  It accepted Visa in a Pulse machine that dispensed DM’s just like a dream.  No need to find a change house.  There were none at the station.  Also found a map of Germany with good markings for the roads we must travel.

In route again we passed through Potsdam and Brandenburg.  The sun began to shine.  I took off two sweaters.  We observed that the roads were dry and that there was no snow in the fields, some of which have green shoots already showing.  Eugeniu reminded me of the WWII history of Potsdam and Brandenburg.  He said that the Germans cannot forget that America bombed them.  (So who started that war?)  Then we crossed the Elbe at Magdeburg where the Americans and Germans met.

 We studied the map and plotted our route towards Vienna.  Our coffee and tea cost 4DM each on this train with its clean rest rooms.  There were even paper towels!

 I am enjoying the view of the late winter landscape and I cannot escape comparisons.  The U. S. is better in so many ways.  The old buildings and the land in Europe resonate a tiredness of too long a history.  The continent has been developed to the last square inch and despoiled by the garbage created by human beings.  Recycling and ecological efforts may help restore new life, but my bones say this earth, this planet, has had enough of human mistreatment and will find a way to relieve herself of this skin cancer of buildings like we would rid our yards of fire ants.

The air brush style graffiti here and in Hungary looks as if the same person was working their way through Europe.

Germany is as neat as a pin.  We couldn’t see Czech as it was night.  We missed a view of Prague.  We plan to avoid Czech on the return trip because we were told they were not friendly and charge a $40 fee to travel through the country and a large fine if they catch you without one.

EU common currency - what a nuisance without it.  Also without it, what a deterrent to impulse spending.

At Brauswieg I put away my sunglasses.  We talked about my habit of asking questions.  I think this practice was discouraged for all but the powers that be for all those years of totalitarian domination.

Friday, March 8, 1996

We are in Tangermunde at the house of Lia’s daughter, Adina.  It is her house given to her by Gunter when they married.  They are in Tunisia on vacation.  Lia and Metica and Daniel greeted us even though they did not receive our message about our arrival time. Daniel is Adina’s son, brother to Dorian.  He gave me a crystal to wear and showed me his new bike.

We had arrived in Bremen at 3 P.M.  By 9 P.M. we were in Tangermunde.  The taxi ride to the DVZ and Albert Rosebrock Co. cost 40DM, but it was worth it.  The taxi was clean, neat and comfortable.  The driver took a direct route (more than I can say for our finding our way back!)  He even waited while I checked to see if we could indeed get the car.  Yes!  The transition through customs was made smooth by Thomas Woltmann.  Rudiger Dalweg was quick with the receipt for our fee to them of 290DM.  Thomas told us that the car started right out of the container; it had come all the way from Houston!  Then we were ready for gasoline and air in the tires.  Thomas drove off with my luggage.  We chased him.  We couldn’t find him, but had success with a call from the station.  Then for 65 DM we bought a full tank of gasoline at 1.60DM per liter!  The directions to get back to Bremen were good up to the turn at the red light.  We never found his route but discovered our own way through Bremen to the Autobahn and smooth driving in the ordered pattern of German rules of the road.  I had some apprehension from the tales of speeding Germans on the Autobahn, but there was no problem. Texans could learn from the courteous drivers who kept to the right while the faster ones flew by hesitating only for the occasional heavy traffic.  Clear road signs, rest stops and half a tank of gas.

It was amazing that we found the house in the dark in a small unfamiliar village.  A shopping mall - stores closing - no one spoke English.  A pleasant man drew a map.  We found the house.  They looked out the window and were surprised to see us.  The welcome was grand.  Hugs, kisses, hellos, we rested in the living room watching a slapstick movie in German while Lia disappeared in the kitchen.  The delicious aroma of Lia’s cooking reminded me of how long it had been since we had eaten hot food.  Cheese, cold meats, bread, beer, juice, then pan broiled ham and green beans.  We were well fed.  Metica and Daniel joined us freshened up.  Eugeniu and Metica, Lia’s new friend, have been talking ever since.  I was so happy to have a hot shower.  It was decided that we should stay here another day and then drive on to Vienna.  They will go with us.  300 kilometers to Prague and another 300 to Vienna.  Metica has a house in Vienna and another in Breaza.  We will see a few sites along the way.  Metica will be our guide.  He knows the sites to see.

 We drove to the house Adina and Gunter are remodeling.  The grounds are full of raspberries, strawberries, and apple trees.  The walk is lined with rosebushes.  The sun is shining.  There is a strong cold wind blowing.  We drive around Tangermunde, an ancient fortress on the Elbe complete with a stork’s nest on the church chimney.  The ancient gateway into the city is now a narrow passageway for cars.  The local citizens stare at my Texas license plates.  A woman cautioned that we were parked illegally.  We stopped at a supermarket, clean neat well stocked.  At home for lunch we feasted on roast, potatoes, green beans, and chicken noodle soup.  The noodles reminded me of my friends, Joan and Irene, who have a noodle making tradition.

The car is liberating.  We did more in a shorter time than ever possible on foot.  This town is interesting and I should be hanged for not having a good travel book.  We are discovering in our usual fashion, but with the advantage of local guides.  What a treat!

Adina and Gunter came home from their Tunisian vacation with tales of Bedouin guides and Roman ruins.  One Roman artifact still in use is a 7 kilometer stone bridge from the coast to an island.  Fifty centimeters above a constant water level, the bridge offers the only safe passage to the island in all seasons and weather conditions.

 The many different languages have created interesting dynamics.  Adina was the only one who could speak with everyone.  Gunter, German; me, English; Lia, Romanian; Metica, Romanian and German; Eugeniu, Romanian, English and a little French. Gunter could understand my English better than I could his German.

 Sunday, 10:30 P.M. March 10, 1996

Driving through the German countryside in the late winter sunlight, there was a certain familiarity.  I thought that surely the Germans who had settled in Central Texas felt somewhat at home with the expanse of sky and in the openness of the countryside.  I was delighted with the Autobahn; it reminded me of driving across the high central plains of Texas.   

 Yesterday we left Tangermunde for Prague.  We missed the road to Dresden - an extra 120 Kilometers! - Dresden was tempting.  There are buildings that still hold the black scars of WW II, but we drove on hoping to reach Prague before dark.   Not so - there were too many villages after the Autobahn ended at Dresden.  The Autobahn began again only a few miles before Prague.  One village, Teplice, was the site of a concentration camp mentioned in the testimonies of those who lived beyond their imprisonment there. I cannot find a picture of it anywhere but, in my mind, it is still as real as the day we saw it.  The Star of David looming over the grounds beside the huge Cross nearby mark the place where there is a museum now.  It was deserted, solemn, austere - a pit in the soul of man.  We stopped only for a moment.  I still remember the feeling of being there, of thinking what this place meant, of stories I have read of these camps.

In every village we drove through except this one, we saw prostitutes standing in scanty attire in the streets greeting all who passed on the highway.   At the border we had to pay a fee for the car to pass through Czech that is good for the whole year.  Ady had told us the Czech were rude and rough and the police would harass us, but fortunately they were very nice and we were forewarned about the fee.  No one mentioned it, so we could have been caught unaware without his warning or Metica’s reminder that we should get it when we changed money just past the border station.

 It was dark when we entered Prague.  We stopped at the third Tourist Information Center on the island in the middle of the Moldau (Vltava) River.  After some discussion and with much apprehension, we left the car in the car park under the bridge in the middle of the island and were taken to the Ila Privat run by the Hodanovas, a very nice pension at a reasonable price.  Our host was most hospitable.  He drove us to a restaurant about 200 meters away.  It was a nice Czech neighborhood restaurant where we had delicious steaks.  I was tired from the long drive and they were laughing and having a good time telling stories.  I got upset because Eugen did not interpret a few of the stories for me.  They told us that they were in the process of deciding about their relationship.  They had just met a few weeks before and were considering the prospect of getting married after Lia’s divorce is final.

 Mr. Hodanova fed us a fine breakfast yesterday morning and then took us on a short tour of the main tourist attractions. Driving to Old Town on this sunny warm Sunday morning, I told our host that I would have felt much better knowing that the Car Park charged for leaving the car there.  After we had eaten a good breakfast, he decided to take us on a short tour of Prague Castle and then to leave us at the car.  He took us to the Bridge of Statues and Prague Castle where there was a bank with a Pulse machine - money for the tour - $10 each (700 Krona).  (The car tag that had cost $24 was good for a year so we can come back.) Prague has architecture from all times and in all styles.  The “Old Town” in the center has colorful buildings that have been restored.  One building took 20 years to restore.  It is now a museum. He left us at the Charles Bridge which was lined with vendors of paintings, photos of Prague, handicrafts - jewelry, etc. – and an accordion player.  We saw children feeding swans on the embankment below.  We explored everything as we wandered around the streets.  Bystanders applauded as Eugeniu and I danced a jitterbug in the plaza by the Astrological Clock in Prague.  What a treat to hear New Orleans jazz being played by this small band!  Then to the Black Madonna where the argument was that this was not the real Black Madonna, but only an advertisement for a store, a copy of the one in a church here.  We walked to the Hotel Opera for lunch, a pepper steak of good Czech beef and ice cream with caramel for dessert.  We walked back to the Auto Platz to get the car and drive on toward Vienna.    We drove up and down mountains and across the high plains of Czech with the late winter sunlight glancing off the vast fields blanketed in snow.  The golden tinge of sunlight was everywhere.  No true gold could be so beautiful. In Prague we bought a t-shirt for Charlie - Charles University of Prague, the oldest university in Europe - couldn’t resist - also a sweat shirt with Praha in colorful letters.  We were so blessed with the weather - sun shining from Bremen to Vienna.

The drive from Prague to the Czech/Austrian border was splendid.  There was a vast expanse of snow in one panoramic view after another.  The four of us are now camping out in the middle of Vienna!  I was so tired from the tension of driving in the dark in unknown territory - having to constantly watch for the road signs.  We only got lost once today. 

 March 11, 1996

 Monday A. M.  At Metica’s house in Vienna.  Hot shower.  Food.  Laughter.  Off the road at last.  Slept well.  Snowed last night.  What a surprise.  Five days of sunshine and dry roads!  We were blessed with such good weather.  The top of the car has been unloaded and we are safe and warm here.  American music on the radio.

 Our traveling companions are delightful.  This morning Eugeniu and Metica were laughing heartily again.  Last night Metica said that he couldn’t spend too much time with Eugeniu because he was afraid he would die from laughing so much.  Lia refused help with food preparation.  She said that my job is driving - enough work for me.  So Vienna is here before us and I am too tired to see it!  We will be here until Saturday so there will be time to see enough.  It is -6ºC outside and we are lucky to be warm, to have food and to have time to rest before the next part of the journey.  Metica and Eugeniu are busy calling people about some business ideas. No one was interested in the long run.

 Adina called last night.  Gunter discovered Eugeniu’s coat with the house keys, driver’s license, etc.  We didn’t remember about the items in the pockets of the coat!  We had remembered about the coat when we were 60 kilometers out of Tangermunde and had decided to go on.  Luckily Lia has another set of keys for the house in Bucharest.  Adina will mail them to us.

It is 3 P. M. and obvious that we are going nowhere today.  Eugeniu and Metica went shopping.  We ate a light lunch of bread, caviar (red and black), anchovy paste, delicate slices of ham, Gouda cheese from Holland, and liver pate made in Vienna.  Imagine, I prefer the liverwurst to the caviar!  Now all three are cooking; the chickens are baking and the soup is simmering.  Eugeniu is peeling garlic and is ready to cook mamaliga.  The story of Lia and Metica unfolds a little more each day.  Metica jokes that Vasile will chop his head off with the axe in the closet at our apartment on Feroviarilor.  Lia’s eyes sparkle.  She doesn’t think Vasile has so much vitality.  He has need only of TV, Tuica and un frau.  She doesn’t want anyone to speak ill of him.  It has been good to have Metica to speak in German as we traveled through Germany and Czech and now in Vienna.

Nancy Posch called at 11 and we arranged to visit with them tomorrow.  At 6 or 6:30 Gustav will come here and we will drive to their place for a night or two.  Metica has been divorced from his wife of 27 years for about three years now.  Lia is in the process of divorce from Vasile who has gone back to his first wife.  She knew Metica was “free, alone.”  She went to him and said, “You are free and I am free.  Why don’t we get together?”  Then she disappeared.  They later arranged to meet in Vienna.  The carnations that he gave her 15 days ago were still fresh in the vase on the table when we arrived yesterday.  He was in Tangermunde when we arrived there on the 7th.  During this time, Metica has said that they have decided to stay together and to buy a larger apartment in Vienna.  The three of them have been busy planning what and where to build.  Eugeniu advising them and making suggestions.  Sell the house in Breaza and on the other half of the lot build a house.  Build a new church.

4:00 p.m.  Eating again.  Too full now.  Tired.  Small discussions now.  Sun shining.  No snow on the car.  Sister in Balan will take care of the ceremony when Metica dies because she is religious.  This after much laughter over Metica’s expression of his fear of falling in love with Lia.  She said, “And I have two graves in Bucharest.”  Metica wonders who will get the second one.  He and Eugeniu are laughing heartily over one joke after the other.  Metica is saying that Lia will have a house in Breaza, and in Vienna as well as her houses in Cluj and Bucharest.  My task is to write the story so someone will know the truth when he is in his grave.

Earlier Lia showed me all the things Adina bought for them to set up housekeeping in Vienna and mentioned that Adina had also bought lots of clothes for Vasile in the past.  Lia said she paid for a private tutor for Adina for English and Spanish for seven years of University.  Now Adina is generous.

 The topic is meeting people you can trust.  Not possible says Metica.  Eugeniu is drawing out the story of the tragedy of Metica’s loss of contact with his daughters.  He reads with emotion and tears the last letter he wrote to them.  No response to his letter.  The good daughter theme arises again.  This time the father’s expectations of his daughters.  I can’t understand enough of the words, but the feelings emerge.  I am asked and respond.

“The hard part of loving is to realize you must in fact love others as God loves us, in spite of everything, unconditionally whether or not we respond as He would have us respond.  We, too, are called to love without expectations realized.  It is not our shame.  It is the hard part of living and loving.”

 Eugeniu translated.

 Metica said, “We must tell our story through you.  God has chosen you to tell our story.” 

 Eugeniu said, “It was what was needed to be said, the exact beautiful thing to say.”

 At six we took a walk on Favoriten Strasse, for pedestrians only.  It is full of smart shops.  I found a Visa bank card machine so we would have some Austrian money.  Eugeniu is walking with Metica.  I teased asking if they were in love.

On our walk we passed the apartment Metica lost in his divorce.  It is empty.  His family lives in another house.  I want to tell him that it is not his any longer.  Whether it was a gift or a divorce, he did not have a good lawyer.

Back at the apartment they dance to Romanian music on tape.  Lia showed me the steps to the Romanian dance.  We stopped before the end of the tape - it was very long.  My mood is still spoiled.  It is hard to regain joviality after an unpleasantness occurred.  Eugeniu is explaining how the gypsy music was what we danced to and this is now Romanian music, sad, slow, minor key.  Lia washed the dishes.  We talked about dishwashers and microwaves.

Tuesday morning, 10:10.  The others are just now waking up.  I have read a little and looked out the window at the huge snowflakes laying a fresh cover of snow over everything.  I am thinking all the while that responsibility is the clue.  One consequence of communism is the limited sense of responsibility of those people used to having the “state” take care of everything.

Tuesday we took a walking tour with Metica and Lia through the center of the Ring. And then Eugeniu and I went to the Fine Arts Museum filled with paintings by Rubens, Van Dyke and so many others.  The paintings delighted us.  The museum also had Roman, Greek, Egyptian and Austrian historical displays.  At six Gustav came and we drove to the Posch’s apartment where we had a nice visit and a delicious meal before an early bedtime.  I enjoyed seeing some TV to get a bit of world news.

We spent two nights at Metica’s and three with Nancy and Gustav.  I had no time to write there.  English was the common language.  I had conversations with them about many things.  They were warm and hospitable.  Gustav loves his boat.  Nancy taught us how to take the best advantage of the public transportation system.

On Wednesday we went with Nancy to the Belvedere to see the exhibition - a retrospective of Austrian painters who had spent many years in exile. It was an amazing display, especially the paintings by women. The original works of Gustav Klimt, though, were the most amazing of all, teaching me that there is a vast difference between the original and prints.  Then home for lunch, a nap before a ride back to the center, the Ring, St. Stephens.  We finally found the Mozart Concert Hall.  It was too expensive and too late to attend the concert, but we saw the hall with the original frescos intact.  We went home to a delicious meal and good conversation.

 Thursday morning we went to the Hofburg Palace to see the fine table settings and the Imperial Apartments.  We exited the Palace into the midst of a student demonstration.  Police cars and vans full of policemen were everywhere with other policemen lining the pathways and the edge of the crowd.  Long lines of students, now joined by the professors came from the direction of the front of the Palace where the ancient Roman ruins have been partially excavated in a modern display in the center of a small plaza.  We decided it was a good time to leave the area and took the underground to Schonbrunn Palace for a quick tour.  Back to our hosts where Nancy had a nice lunch for us.  We were to meet them to go get an alarm system for the car.  It cost $600 and 1 day to install it.  Instead, we found a shop in Kallenburg that had a steering wheel lock and a few other essential items for the car.  That evening we went to the Donauturnum Tower Restaurant as my thank you to them.  Back home Gustav smoked his cigar and told me the story of how he came to write to Nancy and then to go to the Philippines to meet her in person.  He recognized her right away amidst the whole family that greeted him on his arrival.  Then he told me about Austrian history and perceptions of the Nazis and ignorance of the concentration camps and coming from Bratislava at the end of the war as a small child and how hard it was.  They had to walk all the way as they worked their way to Vienna.  Then he and Nancy showed me all the English language books she rescued from the throw away box at the UN when she worked there.

 Friday 11:30 p.m.  We arrived in Balan and parked in melting snow and mud -- safe behind the gates at the house of Lia’s sister and brother-in-law.  We drove from Vienna after four days of snow and much celebration.  This morning we left the clean warm home of Nancy and Gustav and plunged immediately into conflict over a change of oil and fill up before picking up Metica and Lia.  Not enough schillings--go to the bank - no machine - find another bank after a “two” minute walk only to change the cash after all.  Then off to find Metica’s apartment to pick up our traveling companions.  Thirty minutes to load my car again then off toward Bucharest.  We had smooth sailing across the high Hungarian plains then climbed the highest mountain in Hungary with its metal eagle sculpture poised for flight above our heads.

We were almost around the city when we were stopped by the police.  They checked passports then let us go on our way.  We got lost transferring from one road to the next - the usual problem.  We drove on through the lower Hungarian Plains as dusk turned to the dark of night.  We decided to go on rather than stay in a hotel at the border.  Oradea did not look inviting by the dark of night.  Its streets were a torture of potholes that could not be dodged.  The sign to Cluj, where I thought we were going, was evidently not the main road through town as we were the only vehicle driving on these dark streets.  Finally we found the main road and Lia explained that it was her friend that had a house in Cluj and it is late and she did not call her to say we were coming.  We could go to her house or we could go to Lia’s sister's  house in Balan which is only 90 kilometers from the border and much closer than going on to Cluj.   Five and a half hours later driving through village after village we are somewhere off the beaten track over roads with holes so prevalent that there is no way to dodge them.  No ice, no snow, dry roads until we get to Balan and turn off on a dirt road whose melted snow has turned it into a blanket of muddy ruts.  We drove over a barely one lane bridge into more snow and ice then an impossible turn into the yard of the house – got stuck in the snow twice, but finally parked.

 First thing – bathroom, please.  Lia went into the house to get the flashlight.  I met her sister and brother-in-law.  Her sister is very sick. I walked through the mud, manure, water, ice and snow to a brand new outhouse. (No midnight trips for me!)  The outhouse is so new that its wood still smells fresh.  Back in the house Brother is stoking the fire in the furnace with coal oil and small sticks of wood.  Two electric radiators are by my side to take the chill off the air in this room that has been closed for days, weeks, months?  Smoke pours from the furnace.  Lia is busy cooking.  Eugeniu opens the lower door of the furnace and the room begins to fill with more smoke.  Lia finally comes in and opens the flue.  Her brother returns with a mellow grin and shrug of the shoulders.  I laugh.  It is too funny for words.  The room gets aired out.  More food.  Luggage is brought in from the car.  A glass of tuica is served to ward off the chill.  Metica and Eugeniu talk and laugh - both at the same time.  The house has no running water.

I am enthroned on the sofa bed and they sit at a table.  They are profuse in compliments to me.  Metica wants to know my opinion of his prospects for a future with Lia.  I say I have none.  They insist.  I say that I have no more to say than anyone else might say.  You have a choice with whom to enjoy the day.

Now it is Saturday and I am sitting on the steps of this house in Balan in the sunlight filtered through high thin clouds.  We have been so fortunate to have sunshine for our driving days with no rain or snow and very dry roads.  They are discussing the terrain, this property in particular, the village in general.  The snow has melted a lot since last night and the road is drying out as the snow melt drains toward the river.  Lia’s brother-in-law, Baduc, wears a fine sheep’s wool hat, a vest lined with wool and rubber boots, a woolen sweater and woolen trousers.

Friday’s trip from Vienna had been fine until 4:30 when it became dark and I had to face the drivers flashing their bright lights in my face and crowding across the center line.  Daring me to flinch?  I did not.  We drove through village after village; some with streets so bad that we had to stop to find safe passage on one side of the street or the other.  We stopped three times just to find our way out of Oradea.  Then again in Alesd and Huedin as we looked for the road to Balan.  One stretch of three kilometers was especially bad.  We drove over a huge mountain with a twisting highway.  The air was a little hazy and reflected my bright lights so I had to use the dimmer a lot.  The drivers that night were very rude flashing bright lights in my face, especially the drivers of huge trucks.  I soon learned to flash my brights at them to stop them.  Some were courteous, but driving was tiring with keeping one hand on the bright switch, dodging holes in the road and warning truck and bus drivers to stay in their lane.  I was glad it was dark though because there was little activity in the villages which allowed us to keep a steadier pace.

Everyone talked and laughed until late into the night.  I awoke this morning with a great headache.  It is better at the moment, but I still don’t have any idea when we will get back home.  I am waiting in the sunshine in this quiet village watching the oxen kiss as they pause in the street in front of this house.  I wonder what the woman is pouring into the large can in the yard across the street.  Lia has put food out as fast as a magician to feed us supper and then breakfast.  She has much to discuss with her family.  Ludovica, her sister, is still very sick.  They have given Lia all of this property to manage.

This morning I took pictures of the animals.  The mother goat watches as her little kids frolic up and down a small hill.  They are adorable.  We climbed up to the back of the property and took pictures of the village, this place and the bridge.  These villages are filled with old people.  Lia said some of the younger ones are coming back now because they can find no work elsewhere.  Emil Cioran, the philosopher, praised the simple life of the village from his environs in Paris, but he did not return to his village.  Eugeniu called it the true life.  Lia says it is a hard life.  There is much work except in winter which has its own problems.  This village is self-sufficient except for sugar and matches she told us.  A woman passes slapping two oxen to urge them on their way.  Another inspects the drainage trough her husband made for the snow melt.  A plane is heard overhead and the roosters crow.  Otherwise all is silent.  A small herd of sheep across the way pass through the field.  One new lamb is completely black.

Eugeniu brings water from the well.  Lia has fixed lunch.  Metica snores again.  It is four o’clock.  Ciorba (sour soup) for lunch.  Supper with lamb chops and mashed potatoes and bread and spring water, delicious.  Then a walk down the road over the melting ice and snow.  We looked inside the tuica house, then walked across the bridge.  A woman led us to the village store.  Bread, a coke, cigarettes and a Twix.  We each drank an orange soda and then walked back to the house, past the new and the old village churches.  I took the rest of the pictures thus had to fake it for the villager with the ox cart at the bridge.  Back at the house, Baduc went to the storage cellar to sweep out the water threatening the door.  He opened it today for the first time all winter and found the vegetables and apples in good condition.  He was afraid they had frozen.  Three beehives are nearby.  One of the bees stung him.

 We have crossed the various borders with few problems.  A car tag at Czech, a long wait at Austria and a discussion of visas with the Romanians, a pullover in Hungary to dig out the green card for the car.  We got lost once per day - at least.  In Vienna we got lost trying to find out how to turn on the street we needed and again in Budapest looking for the highway transition.

 Another meal.  Lia fixed a dumpling with brinza made from flour ground from wheat from their farm and more lamb, also from this farm.  We ate alone.  They moved to a warmer room.  I have been a grouch, but I was really tired after the long drive and the late hour was too much.  My head has hurt all day long.  Eugeniu gets upset if I ask questions like how long or how far or what is happening.  We will go home tomorrow.   From here to Cluj to Brasov then Breaza for Metica’s car.  They plan to follow us to Bucharest.  Eugeniu, too, wants a good bath.  Lia brought a pan of water for me to wash.  Lia said she washed with cold water outside.  The weather cast reported 60º for here today, but it was not that warm.  The ice melted fast, but there is still snow on the ground.  In Bucharest, it is cold, 0º C.

My fears about getting stuck in the mud may be ill founded.  We walked on the road today and it seems solid in spite of the standing and running water and the huge holes and bumps looking as if thrown all over the road like a splatter painting.

 I thought we had packed the car as full as we could, but Lia and Metica found more room to pack food from the farm.  At the last moment, Metica decided to trim the rose bush by the front stairway.  I had my morning coffee on the porch in the beautiful sunlight.  Spring is ready to burst.  The kids were still sleeping, but the lambs were having breakfast.  The snow melt drained and the light icy coating on the road melted before we drove off.  The villagers were dressed in their Sunday best as they walked to church.  The bells of the church had a light inviting tone.  Victor and Ludovica and Baduc saw us off at last, but only after I maneuvered the car through the gate and the muddy street.

We left Balan at about 11.  I had hoped for nine.  I drove almost constantly, but very slowly.  The roads on E 60, the European highway in Romania, are terrible.  I could not take my eyes off the pavement as it was essential to watch for holes in the road also for oncoming traffic in our lane and impatient drivers behind who would pass 2, 3, or 4 cars at a time without regard for curves or oncoming traffic.  Just as I would start to pass, some jerk would appear up my blind side.

Sunday.  8:45 P. M.  Breaza.  I am too tired to climb up or down one more mountain.  Lia fixed me a bowl of hot soup.  It was just perfect for this cold house and the on-going head pain - day 2.  We are at Metica’s house.  It has been closed up for a long time, so it is a little musty.  The pipes were frozen, but now they are open so we have water.  A chicken is roasting in the oven and my feet are taking turns at the furnace grate.  This ceramic monster heats three rooms, but it takes a while.  I still have on my hat and coat.  Metica’s car has been sitting for a year.  It started after he broke through the ice blocking the garage door.  A small triumph.  My car is 100 yards away inside the front gate.  The snow is still too deep to drive to the house.  All the luggage had to be carried through the snow to the house.

We filled the car with gasoline near Cluj and drove on through roads that varied from smooth (45 MPH) to nearly all holes (1-5 MPH).  After Turda there was a magnificent fortress on a hilltop at Rupea and we saw the black and white church in Sighisoara.  We climbed up and down mountains on serpentine roads, once an Italian truck driver tailgated us until he could pass us.  Then we had to follow him until he turned off!

We thought it would be good to travel on Sunday and that there would be no trucks as the night before, but there were a few.  There were wagons filled with hay, bicycles, pedestrians and trucks and cars parked on the road - no shoulders!  Fog settled in near Sinai so I decided to go no more.  Breaza is across the river from E 60 and the 4 K to Metica’s house seemed like 10 miles.  The comic scene was the navigators’ discussion when it was time to decide to turn or go straight.  Stinga, drapte or inainte (left, right, straight) all flying at my ears at once.  Finally I learned to stop until it was clear what road we should take.

Lia is busy arranging things.  Metica is telling Eugen the story of the house and how he left Romania.  His sister hid 1,000 marks in her vagina to pass through the border.  She couldn’t find it.  Finally, she did.  Ceaucescu had declared that only one house could be “owned” per person, except when there were two owners, so he and his sister were partners in this house.  He had planted three pine trees; thus, the name of the house was Trei Brazi with an orchard of apple trees - as a bonus?  He built the house one room at a time gradually adding the others.  He had the furnace fixed for three rooms, but it didn’t work well for the back bedroom.  His sister was not happy about that.  He told about getting visas for Vienna and Yugoslavia and about eating ice cream.  In two languages there was talk of chicken, apple juice, the meaning of love, music, friends.

Tuesday, March 19, 1996.  It is snowing again.  We are at home feeling blessed that the sun was shining on each day of our drive.  Coffee, hot salami and a pan toasted bun for breakfast.  I am wearing my Prague sweat shirt, the one trophy I purchased for myself.

Yesterday we awoke to bright sunshine high in the Carpathian mountain village of Breaza.  We had coffee and I was ready to be on the road again.  But first, they surveyed the property to determine future potential.  Metica wants to divide this land, build another house and sell the existing house.  Eugeniu advised him regarding preparations necessary to make the house ready for sale.  We took pictures of the house, the scenery, of all of us.  The drive into Bucharest was smooth.  The highway is bad only in a few places - mostly in the cities.  We parked the car and found our apartment cold but most welcoming.  It is good to be home.  The carport is too small for the car and ice by the garbage cans had to be chopped with an axe to get the car past a small pile of the winter’s snow that made the slight angle into the carport more difficult.  We unloaded and started the thirty minute process to fill the tub with water hot enough for comfort.  Eugeniu went to buy mineral water and some food, bread and chicken.  Valentin called with news that Petre, Eugeniu’s brother, is in the hospital.  Eugen and Valentin went to visit him.  He has had a stroke but is recovering the use of his arm.  His speech is still affected.  He is in a ward with a dozen beds full of very sick people.  Today Eugen will speak with the doctor and try to arrange a transfer to a military hospital.  Terri called to discuss this and to say that Petre’s condition is very serious.  We are at home again.

 6 August 2021

We finally have the car!  The heat of yesterday has moved on. In other places it seems like the world is on fire.  California and Greece and...  

8 August 2021

Sunday morning and wishing I could go.  In stead I have taken care of a few things that were important like watering the raised beds.  At last things are growing there, but with the heat watering is crucial.  Fortunately we are not as hot so far as those places burning.The popcorn may actually mature enough to let us enjoy it.  The tomatoes are still green and the beets almost large enough to harvest.  Out of sight there are black-eyed peas and balsam.  

Painting update completed for the Luxembourg contest required trying to fix the photo program so that it would work like it did in the past.  Surely wish this update had not occurred.

Included today is a rather long tale about going to the seashore and this link will allow photos!

The Trip to the Seashore.docx

 2 

2 August 2021

Upkeep takes a lot of time, energy and money, but what can be done now versus 20 years ago is miraculous.  It is just that the importance of small businesses is not hyped on any of the TV channels that I have seen.  Why?  I cannot imagine, but I can see that it is this energy of people everywhere that makes the world go round.  This village has blossomed again after the destruction of communism and in spite of the greed of the ones who are not correct in how they acquire and/or spend funds available to them individually or in their role in government.

Today we have had air conditioners checked and they are all okay.   The repairman came and worked efficiently and correctly.  The charges were well worth it for the satisfaction of knowing the job was well done and in a timely fashion. 

Our mail comes as it should.  We must go into Bucharest to receive packages, but the postmistress in our village is helpful and very correct.  We so appreciate her even though they do not allow her to receive our packages which is sad.  The trip into Bucharest is a long way to get a package that does not even require a customs fee.  It also requires a climb up a winding staircase to wait until you can get your package and they tell you that you owe no customs fee and that you have to come just because anything from the U. S. is suspect!   I so miss our post office at Banu Mantu where they were ever so correct and kind.

The Post Office

 

1998

 

Here is my story for the day... I do believe that there are times when one should indeed show anger strongly and clearly.

 "Stop yelling," he said.  I said, "I will stop yelling when you give me my package."  I had banged on the door loudly enough for anyone inside to hear the knock clearly.  It was 13:00 and the sign on the door indicated that the office was to be open on Fridays until 15:00.  We had an appointment at 14:00 with the contractor and we had taken a taxi all the way to this prime post office on the other side of downtown from where we live.  It was way past Piata Unirii and was a post office that is supposed to be large enough to handle packages; it did not appear very large at all.  It was full of people in a small space.  The taxi driver said that he would wait for us.  We thought that it would take just a minute or two even if there was a line.  We have been to four other post offices to pick up packages besides the one where our post office box is located, the one where we got the note on the weekend and had to go back on a week day to enter the post office so the girl behind the desk could give us another notice which revealed the location of the package.  The rules say that I have to pick up the package myself.  No one can take my ID and get the package for me, unless of course, I was a business.  It turned out that I should be a business.  Friday was the first day that both of us could go together to claim the package.  I always need Eugeniu to go with me to a new post office because they have different methods that require a lot of conversation in the Romanian language.  At the post office on Banu Mantu where most of our packages are sent, I do not have any difficulty and enjoy the courtesy of the employees.  I can go there alone and they give my package to me every time.

 

We entered the Post Office on Calea Vacaresti and gave the notice to the postal clerk at the first window.  He said to go to the window at the end of the room.  At the end of the room they told us to go to the office next door.  Two doors down the clerks said you cannot receive packages here.  You can send them, but not receive them, but that we should go back to the other office to the window straight in front of the door.  There the man finally opened the window and told us that we had to go to the last door at the end of the room.  I was getting upset and said that this is idiotic. We found the door at the end of the room to be closed and locked despite the sign that indicated clearly that it should be open.  I knocked loudly and every head in the post office turned my way.  I did not care.  I wanted to get the attention of someone there who knew exactly where there might be a clerk who could read the notice and give my package to me.  There was no one there.  "You cannot keep my package," I shouted.  It did not matter.  The clerk who did not like my insistence said that there was no one there.  We must go back to the other office again. So, we returned to the desk two doors down.  Finally, the manager came out. She kept my notice, but she did not give me my package.  I asked her what right she had to keep my package.  It is not the first mail that I have lost here.  I have had so many letters lost that no one writes very much anymore.  There is no point.  The letters with pictures of weddings and new babies and family and friends are of no use to anyone here.  I keep wondering why they keep them.  I am told that the postal workers are poor, so they tear open the letters that come from other countries hoping to find money in them.  No one sends me money, just pictures and messages about what is happening in their lives.  Of no use to anyone else.  Why do they keep them?  Why do they not let the mail go through?  Whether it is criminal or not to steal mail in Romania, I do not know, but I do understand that it is mean.  It is just plain mean.

So I say to the woman in English that she has no right to keep my package.  I have the notice, I have the identification papers and I want to get my package as directed by the Romanian Postal Service.  All the while she is telling my husband that she cannot give me the package because I am not a juridical person.  I am a physical person.  This means that I am not a business, I am just a person who has received an item of mail.

This particular post office does not give mail to "physical" persons.  This particular post office just gives packages to businesses.  Yes, she has my package, but she cannot give it to me.  Someone thought that my name was a business so they sent my package to this post office.  “It is a mistake,” she said, “but I cannot give you your package.”  Am I in never‑never land?  What is wrong here?

 Someone at the post office made the mistake, but she could not give my package to me even though it is right there and I was right there.  She said that she will send it back to my post office by next Friday.  They will then give me another notice to enter the post office to receive another notice and this time they will let me retrieve my package from my usual "package" post office.  Maybe.  I do not know anything about this package.  I am not expecting anything.  I only know that it is from the U. S.  I do not know if I will ever get it.  It will probably go the way of all those letters with the missing pictures of my friends and family.  I told my children not to send pictures of my new grandchildren because letters with pictures are not delivered to me.  I do not know where they go.  I do not know what happened to my last two expected business letters either.  They usually get through to our post office box, but not this month.

 I do not understand this way of operating a post office.  I cannot understand how it is useful to send people all over town to get packages.  I do not understand a post office that cannot accept a reasonable customer friendly method of correcting their mistake.   Why did this woman have to send the package back to another post office?  Who was served by this cruelty?   How was this helpful to anyone?  Why do all "business" packages have to go to this post office?   Does anyone think of making the retrieval of packages and special mail easy on the customer by allowing them to be picked up at the nearest post office?  Does anyone see that this could be actually easier on the post office?  Why does one have to go to a separate post office for packages at all?  Why does one have to have two notices before one knows where to get one package?  If the first two notices are not received, does the post office send another two as reminder or in case the first ones got lost?

 What I do understand is that this left-over attitude from communism is still far too rampant in Romania.  There are too many public servants who wish to make people uncomfortable and who wish to make it as difficult as possible for ordinary people to receive ordinary public service, be it postal or otherwise.   A customer at the post office nodded slightly and his eyes sparkled because he agreed that they were acting like idiots at the post office, but he could not speak because he knows what would happen.  I may never get the package.  I may never know what it is or who sent it, but I have shown a few people that they can protest about rude and disdainful treatment.  Those postal workers did not care whether or not I got my package and they sent us on a merry chase before I ever uttered one word in protest.  We spent a bit of money ‑‑ I never asked how much ‑‑ for the taxi that took us there because we did not know where it was and we had to get back to that shop to see if they could repair the three things we left for their appraisal and still get to the meeting with our contractor.

Isn’t there supposed to be an attitude of support for business in Romania with its faltering economy?  Is this a way to treat small and medium-sized businesses that are finally getting recognition for their contribution to build a strong economy?  Is this one of the ways they are providing "facilities" to help them grow?  This postal system is due a good systems analysis.  Perhaps their customers could provide some useful input.

Sunday 1 August 2021

I am happy that we have some salmon with capers for our evening meal - called dinner more formally and called supper where I come from.  The recipe is fantastic and has deserved a repeat more than once.  It is so delicious that Eugeniu said that he likes salmon now!

And it being Sunday, I remember those days when I was able to drive in to Bucharest to attend the Church of the Resurrection.  It is there that I met so many people that made my life here more pleasant than ever could have been expected.  Having the car made it possible to attend the services and to adjust to the changes in the approach to the church that occurred as time passed.

Here is a diary of the time we got the car that we shipped from Texas.  It has made so much of our journey in Romania possible and enjoyable.  In 1995 there was no possibility of buying a car here unless one was put up for sale at the flea market on the banks of the Dumbovita.

Bucharest to Bremen to Bucharest

 Wednesday, March 6, 1996

 We are in a compartment on a train from Budapest to Berlin on our way to Bremen to get the car.  Before we left, Valentin and Dorian paid us a visit.  Valentin has begun the repair of his broken front tooth.  Dorian, aged 16, wants us to call when we get to his mother’s house and then again when we get home so he will know we are safe.

 We went to get the car insurance Tuesday morning.  The agent Florian had told me on Monday that I should ask for him because we have a special case. $24 for a green card sounded good to me compared to 290DM in Bremen.  Title and registration and we get insurance for 14 days to move the car through customs and back to Bucharest.   When we got to the agency, it was not so.  The car must be registered in Romania.  Okay, so let’s register it.  The car must be here to register it.  But the car is in Bremen as I told you on the telephone.  Crazy making rules or outright lies?  How could any car ever enter Romania if it must be registered here before you can bring it here and it must be here to be registered?  Eugeniu worked it out and for $10 under the papers on the desk of the clerk, they agreed to fill out and issue the proper papers for the green card insurance at insurance office #1.  Then we were taken by a young man to office #2 where the second set of papers were issued by a surly woman in a very small office where a clerk was checking files on her lap without any sign of a desk or table.  This last set of papers provided coverage for the car when it entered Romania.  It was too late to go back to the bank to see if the wire transfer had arrived.

 At 11:30 P. M. the taxi arrived.  He flew over the smooth places and dodged as many holes in the road as he could.  The sleeping car on the train was one of the new ones.  It was very comfortable and clean.  I slept between stops in spite of the awful grinding of the car against the engine as we traveled toward Hungary.  Customs officers examined and stamped our passports and questioned us about our belongings.  They cautioned us about taking more than $5,000 out of Romania -- I wish!  Eugeniu said, “Hungary is cleaner.”  We could see the difference in the villages with nicely paved streets and neat houses in rows with yards empty of all but snow and children’s swings.

 In Budapest we checked our tickets at the international ticket window.  “Wait for the conductor to arrange a sleeping compartment.” We were told that they could not make such arrangements.  We took the Metro and rode under the Danube to Buda from Pest.   The Metro was packed, but it was clean and neat.  The people were well dressed - more colorful clothing than in Bucharest and the people seemed more prosperous.

 In Buda we had a spectacular view of the Parliament across the Danube in Pest and of the Casa de Bello high on the hill to our right.  The Danube wasn’t blue but the bridge near the castle was an intricate and beautiful site.  The little market was half handicrafts and half flea market.  We walked around to get a closer view of the castle and the bridge, had coffee and tea at a small restaurant, and looked at three of the churches in this old historic area.  Some of the buildings are 2-3 feet lower than street level.  An antique shop had some beautiful paintings and a marvelous old desk and small wooden boxes.  We had not changed enough money, so back at the station we changed more to buy some water for the train and fruit and pistachios and peanuts and a couple of Cokes.

When we found the conductor, he said that our tickets were for the train, but not for the sleeping car.  For $75 we could have a compartment and we would get our receipt in the morning.  He said we should go on to Berlin arriving at 8:30 instead of changing trains at Dresden at 6:00 A. M.  Nice car - Hungarian - brand new - comfortable.  He proudly showed us the shower compartment.    So here we are at 9:00 P. M. Hungarian time speeding toward Berlin, via Prague, and tomorrow we’ll be driving back toward Bucharest via Vienna where we’ll see Nancy and Gustav Posch (Regina’s sister and brother-in-law).  And I don’t know how long any of this driving will take.  This train ride is certainly a long one!

 Bratislava - passport check for Czech.

 March 7, 1996

 6 A. M. Another passport check - twice.  They always check twice.

 Germany - Dresden.  I think we should get off here to get the train to Hannover, but the conductor has disappeared.

 The mistake of the ticket change took us to what was once called West Berlin, Lichtenstein station, where we had to wait an hour and a half for a train to Hannover as we had just missed the last one.  There we get another train to Bremen.  We will not arrive as scheduled - two hours later and one more train than the original ticket, plus another 20 DM for the tickets for these two trains.  We were lucky to find a bank across the street from the station in Berlin.  It accepted Visa in a Pulse machine that dispensed DM’s just like a dream.  No need to find a change house.  There were none at the station.  Also found a map of Germany with good markings for the roads we must travel.

 In route again we passed through Potsdam and Brandenburg.  The sun began to shine.  I took off two sweaters.  We observed that the roads were dry and that there was no snow in the fields, some of which have green shoots already showing.  Eugeniu reminded me of the WWII history of Potsdam and Brandenburg.  He said that the Germans cannot forget that America bombed them.  (So who started that war?)  Then we crossed the Elbe at Magdeburg where the Americans and Germans met.

 We studied the map and plotted our route towards Vienna.  Our coffee and tea cost 4DM each on this train with its clean rest rooms.  There were even paper towels!

 I am enjoying the view of the late winter landscape and I cannot escape comparisons.  The U. S. is better in so many ways.  The old buildings and the land in Europe resonate a tiredness of too long a history.  The continent has been developed to the last square inch and despoiled by the garbage created by human beings.  Recycling and ecological efforts may help restore new life, but my bones say this earth, this planet, has had enough of human mistreatment and will find a way to relieve herself of this skin cancer of buildings like we would rid our yards of fire ants.

 The air brush style graffiti here and in Hungary looks as if the same person was working their way through Europe.

 Germany is as neat as a pin.  We couldn’t see Czech as it was night.  We missed a view of Prague.  We plan to avoid Czech on the return trip because we were told they were not friendly and that there was a charge of a $40 fee to travel through the country and a large fine if they catch you without one.

 EU common currency - what a nuisance without it.  Also, what a deterrent to impulse spending.

 At Brauswieg, I put away my sunglasses.  We talked about my habit of asking questions.  I think this practice was discouraged for all but the powers that be for all those years of totalitarian domination.

Friday, March 8, 1996

 We are in Tangermunde at the house of Lia’s daughter, Adina.  It is her house given by Gunter when they married.  They are in Tunisia on a vacation.  Lia and Metica and Daniel greeted us even though they did not receive our message about the arrival time. Daniel is Adina’s son, brother to Dorian.  He gave me a crystal to wear and showed me his new bike.

 We had arrived in Bremen at 3 P.M.  By 9 P.M. we were in Tangermunde.  The taxi ride to the DVZ and Albert Rosebrock Co. cost 40DM, but it was worth it.  The taxi was clean, neat and comfortable.  The driver took a direct route (more than I can say for our finding our way back!)  He even waited while I checked to see if we could indeed get the car.  Yes!  The transition through customs was made smooth by Thomas Woltmann.  Rudiger Dalweg was quick with the receipt for our fee to them of 290DM.  Thomas told us that the car started right out of the container; it had come all the way from Houston!  Then we were ready for gasoline and air in the tires.  Thomas drove off with my luggage.  We chased him.  We couldn’t find him, but had success with a call from the station.  Then for 65 DM we bought a full tank of gasoline at 1.60DM per liter!  The directions to get back to Bremen were good up to the turn at the red light.  We never found his route but discovered our own way through Bremen to the Autobahn and smooth driving in the ordered pattern of German rules of the road.  I had some apprehension from the tales of speeding Germans on the Autobahn, but there was no problem. Texans could learn from the courteous drivers who kept to the right while the faster ones flew by hesitating only for the occasional heavy traffic.  Clear road signs, rest stops and half a tank of gas.

 It was amazing that we found the house in the dark in a small unfamiliar village.  A shopping mall - stores closing - no one spoke English.  A pleasant man drew a map.  We found the house.  They looked out the window and were surprised to see us.  The welcome was grand.  Hugs, kisses, hellos, we rested in the living room watching a slapstick movie in German while Lia disappeared in the kitchen.  The delicious aroma of Lia’s cooking reminded me of how long it had been since we had eaten hot food.  Cheese, cold meats, bread, beer, juice, then pan broiled ham and green beans.  We were well fed.  Metica and Daniel joined us freshened up.  Eugeniu and Metica, Lia’s new friend, have been talking ever since.  I was so happy to have a hot shower.  It was decided that we should stay here another day and then drive on to Vienna.  They will go with us.  300 kilometers to Prague and another 300 to Vienna.  Metica has a house in Vienna and another in Breaza.  We will see a few sites along the way.  Metica will be our guide.  He knows the sites to see.

We drove to the house they are remodeling.  The grounds are full of raspberries, strawberries, and apple trees.  The walk is lined with rosebushes.  The sun is shining.  There is a strong cold wind blowing.  We drove around Tangermunde, an ancient fortress on the Elbe complete with a stork’s nest on the church chimney.  The ancient gateway into the city is now a narrow passageway for cars.  The local citizens stare at my Texas license plates.  We stopped at a supermarket, clean neat well stocked. A woman cautioned that we were parked illegally.  At home for lunch we feasted on roast, potatoes, green beans, and chicken noodle soup.  The noodles reminded me of my friends, Joan and Irene, who have a noodle making tradition.

The car is liberating.  We did more in a shorter time than ever possible on foot.  This town is interesting and I should be hanged for not having a good travel book.  We are discovering in our usual fashion, but with the advantage of local guides, what a treat!

 Adina and Gunter came home from their Tunisian vacation with tales of Bedouin guides and Roman ruins.  One Roman artifact still in use is a 7 kilometer stone bridge from the coast to an island.  Fifty centimeters above a constant water level, the bridge offers the only safe passage to the island in all seasons and weather conditions.

The many different languages have created interesting dynamics.  Adina was the only one who could speak with everyone.  Gunter, German; me, English; Lia, Romanian; Metica, Romanian and German; Eugeniu, Romanian, English and a little French. Gunter could understand my English better than I could his German.

 Sunday, 10:30 P.M. March 10, 1996

 Driving through the German countryside in the late winter sunlight, there was a certain familiarity.  I thought that surely the Germans who had settled in Central Texas felt somewhat at home with the expanse of sky and in the openness of the countryside.  I was delighted with the Autobahn; it reminded me of driving across the high central plains of Texas.   

Yesterday we left Tangermunde for Prague.  We missed the road to Dresden - an extra 120 Kilometers! - Dresden was tempting.  There are buildings that still hold the black scars of WW II, but we drove on hoping to reach Prague before dark.   Not so - there were too many villages after the Autobahn ended at Dresden.  It began again only a few miles before Prague.  One village, Teplice, was the site of a concentration camp mentioned in the testimonies of those who lived beyond their imprisonment here. I cannot find a picture of it anywhere but, in my mind, it is still as real as the day we saw it.  The Star of David looming over the grounds beside the huge Cross nearby mark the place where there is a museum now.  It was deserted, solemn, austere - a pit in the soul of man.  We stopped only for a moment.  I still remember the feeling of being there, of thinking what this place meant, of stories I have read of these camps.

 In every village we drove through except this one, we saw prostitutes standing in scanty attire in the streets greeting all who passed on the highway.   At the border we had to pay a fee for the car to pass through Czech that is good for the whole year.  Ady had told us that the Czech were rude and rough and that the police would harass us, but fortunately they were very nice and we had been forewarned about the fee.  No one mentioned it, so we could have been caught unaware without his warning or Metica’s reminder that we should get it when we changed money just past the border station.

 It was dark when we entered Prague.  We stopped at the third Tourist Information Center on the island in the middle of the Moldau (Vltava) River.  After some discussion and with much apprehension, we left the car in the car park under the bridge in the middle of the island and were taken to the Ila Privat run by the Hodanovas, a very nice pension at a reasonable price.  Our host was most hospitable.  He drove us to a restaurant about 200 meters away.  It was a nice Czech neighborhood restaurant where we had delicious steaks.  I was tired from the long drive and they were laughing and having a good time telling stories.  I got upset because Eugen did not interpret a few of the stories for me.  They told us that they were in the process of deciding about their relationship.  They had just met a few weeks before and were considering the prospect of getting married after Lia’s divorce is final.

 Mr. Hodanova fed us a fine breakfast yesterday morning and then took us on a short tour of the main tourist attractions. Driving to Old Town on this sunny warm Sunday morning, I told our host that I would have felt much better knowing that the Car Park charged for leaving the car there.  We had a good breakfast and then he decided to take us on a short tour of Prague Castle and then to leave us at the car.  He then offered to take us to the Bridge of Statues.  At Prague Castle there was a bank with a Pulse machine - money for the tour - $10 each (700 Krona).  (The car tag that had cost $24 was good for a year so we can come back.) Prague has architecture from all times and of all styles.  The “Old Town” in the center has colorful buildings that have been restored.  One modern building took 20 years to restore.  It is now a museum. He left us at the Charles Bridge lined with vendors of paintings, photos of Prague and handicrafts - jewelry, etc. – and an accordion player.  We saw children feeding swans on the embankment below.  We explored and wandered around the streets.  Bystanders applauded as Eugeniu and I danced a Charleston in the plaza by the Astrological Clock.  What a treat to hear New Orleans jazz being played by this small band!  Then to the Black Madonna where the argument was that this was not the real Black Madonna, but only an advertisement for a store, a copy of the one in a church here.  We walked to the Hotel Opera for lunch, a pepper steak of good Czech beef and ice cream with caramel for dessert.  We walked back to the Auto Platz to get the car and drive on toward Vienna up and down mountains and across the high plains of Czech with the late winter sunlight glancing off the vast fields blanketed in snow.  The golden tinge of sunlight was everywhere.  No true gold could be so beautiful. In Prague we bought a t-shirt for Charlie - Charles University of Prague, the oldest university in Europe - couldn’t resist - also a sweat shirt with Praha in colorful letters.  We were so blessed with the weather - sun shining from Bremen to Vienna.

The drive from Prague to the Czech/Austrian border was splendid.  There was a vast expanse of snow in one panoramic view after another.  The four of us are now camping out in the middle of Vienna!  I was so tired from the tension of driving in the dark in unknown territory - having to constantly watch for the road signs.  We only got lost once today. 

 March 11, 1996

 Monday A. M.  At Metica’s house in Vienna.  Hot shower.  Food.  Laughter.  Off the road at last.  Slept well.  Snowed last night.  What a surprise.  Five days of sunshine and dry roads!  We were blessed with such good weather.  The top of the car has been unloaded and we are safe and warm here.  American music on the radio.

 Our traveling companions are delightful.  This morning Eugeniu and Metica were laughing heartily again.  Last night Metica said that he couldn’t spend too much time with Eugeniu because he was afraid he would die from laughing so much.  Lia refused help with food preparation.  She said that my job is driving - enough work for me.  So Vienna is here before us and I am too tired to see it!  We will be here until Saturday so there will be time to see enough.  It is -6ºC outside and we are lucky to be warm, to have food and to have time to rest before the next part of the journey.  Metica and Eugeniu are busy calling people about some business ideas. No one was interested in the long run.

 Adina called last night.  Gunter discovered Eugeniu’s coat with the house keys, driver’s license, etc.  We didn’t remember about the items in the pockets of the coat!  We remembered about the coat when we were 60 kilometers out of Tangermunde and had decided to go on.  Luckily Lia has another set of keys for the house in Bucharest.  Adina will mail it to us.

 It is 3 P. M. and obvious that we are going nowhere today.  Eugeniu and Metica went shopping.  We ate a light lunch of bread, caviar, red and black, anchovy paste, delicate slices of ham, Gouda cheese from Holland, and liver pate made in Vienna.  Imagine, I prefer the liverwurst to the caviar!  Now all three are cooking, chickens baking, soup simmering, Eugeniu peeling garlic, ready to fix mamaliga.  The story of Lia and Metica unfolding a little more each day.  Metica jokes that Vasile will chop his head off with the axe in the closet at our apartment on Feroviarilor.  Lia’s eyes sparkle.  She doesn’t think Vasile has so much vitality.  He has need only of TV, Tuica and un frau.  She doesn’t want anyone to speak ill of him.  It has been good to have Metica to speak in German as we traveled through Germany and Czech and now in Vienna.

Nancy Posch called at 11 and we arranged to visit with them tomorrow.  At 6 or 6:30 Gustav will come here and we will drive to their place for a night or two.  Metica has been divorced from his wife of 27 years for about three years now.  Lia is in the process of divorce from Vasile who has gone back to his first wife.  She knew Metica was “free, alone.”  She went to him and said, “You are free and I am free.  Why don’t we get together?”  Then she disappeared.  They later arranged to meet in Vienna.  The carnations that he gave her 15 days ago were still fresh in the vase on the table when we arrived yesterday.  He was in Tangermunde when we arrived there on the 7th.  During this time, Metica has said that they have decided to stay together and to buy a larger apartment in Vienna.  The three of them have been busy planning what and where to build.  Eugeniu advising them and making suggestions.  Sell the house in Breaza and on the other half of the lot build a house.  Build a new church.

 4:00 p.m.  Eating again.  Too full now.  Tired.  Small discussions now.  Sun shining.  No snow on the car.  Sister in Balan will take care of the ceremony when Metica dies because she is religious.  This after much laughter over Metica’s expression of his fear of falling in love with Lia.  She said “And I have two graves in Bucharest.”  Metica wonders who will get the second one.  He and Eugeniu are laughing heartily over one joke after the other.  Metica is saying that Lia will have a house in Breaza, and in Vienna as well as her houses in Cluj and Bucharest.  My task is to write the story so someone will know the truth when he is in his grave.

 Earlier Lia showed me all the things Adina bought for them to set up housekeeping in Vienna and mentioned that Adina had also bought lots of clothes for Vasile in the past.  Lia said she paid for a private tutor for Adina for English and Spanish for seven years of University.  Now Adina is generous.

 The topic is meeting people you can trust.  Not possible says Metica.  Eugeniu is drawing out the story of the tragedy of Metica’s loss of contact with his daughters.  He reads with emotion and tears the last letter he wrote to them.  No response to his letter.  The good daughter theme arises again.  This time the father’s expectations of his daughters.  I can’t understand enough of the words, but the feelings emerge.  I am asked and respond.

“The hard part of loving is to realize you must in fact love others as God loves us, in spite of everything, unconditionally whether or not we respond as He would have us respond.  We, too, are called to love without expectations realized.  It is not our shame.  It is the hard part of living and loving.”

 Eugeniu translated.

 Metica said, “We must tell our story through you.  God has chosen you to tell our story.” 

Eugeniu said, “It was what was needed to be said, the exact beautiful thing to say.”

 At six we took a walk on Favoriten Strasse, for pedestrians only.  It is full of smart shops.  I found a Visa bank card machine so we would have some Austrian money.  Eugeniu is walking with Metica.  I asked if they were in love.

 On our walk we passed the apartment Metica lost in his divorce.  It is empty.  His family lives in another house.  I want to tell him that it is not his any longer.  Whether it was a gift or a divorce, he did not have a good lawyer.

 Back at the apartment they dance to Romanian music on tape.  Lia showed me the steps to the Romanian dance.  We stopped before the end of the tape - it was very long.  My mood is still spoiled.  It is hard to regain joviality after an unpleasantness occurred.  Eugeniu is explaining how the gypsy music was what we danced to and this is now Romanian music, sad, slow, minor key.  Lia washed the dishes.  We talked about dishwashers and microwaves.

Tuesday morning, 10:10.  The others are just now waking up.  I have read a little and looked out the window at the huge snowflakes laying a fresh cover of snow over everything.  I am thinking all the while that responsibility is the clue.  One consequence of communism is the limited sense of responsibility of those people used to having the “state” take care of everything.

 Tuesday we took a walking tour with Metica and Lia through the center of the Ring. And then Eugeniu and I went to the Fine Arts Museum filled with Rubens, Van Dyke and so many fine paintings delighted us.  The museum also had Roman, Greek, Egyptian and Austrian historical displays.  At six Gustav came and we drove to the Posch’s apartment where we had a nice visit and a delicious meal before an early bedtime.  I enjoyed seeing some TV to get a bit of world news.

 We spent two nights at Metica’s and three with Nancy and Gustav.  I had no time to write there.  English was the common language.  I had conversations with them about many things.  They were warm and hospitable.  Gustav loves his boat.  Nancy taught us how to take the best advantage of the public transportation system.

 On Wednesday we went with Nancy to the Belvedere to see the exhibition - a retrospective of Austrian painters who had spent many years in exile. It was an amazing display, especially the paintings by women. The original works of Gustav Klimt, though, were the most amazing of all, teaching me that there is a vast difference between the original and prints.  Then home for lunch, a nap before a ride back to the center, the Ring, St. Stephens.  We finally found the Mozart Concert Hall.  It was too expensive and too late to attend the concert, but we saw the hall with the original frescos intact.  We went home to a delicious meal and good conversation.

 Thursday morning we went to the Hofburg Palace to see the fine table settings and the Imperial Apartments.  We exited the Palace into the midst of a student demonstration.  Police cars and vans full of policemen were everywhere with other policemen lining the pathways and the edge of the crowd.  Long lines of students, now joined by the professors came from the direction of the front of the Palace where the ancient Roman ruins have been partially excavated in a modern display in the center of a small plaza.  We decided it was a good time to leave the area and took the underground to Schonbrunn Palace for a quick tour.  Back to our hosts where Nancy had a nice lunch for us.  We were to meet them to go get an alarm system for the car.  It cost $600 and 1 day to install it.  Instead, we found a shop in Kallenburg that had a steering wheel lock and a few other essential items for the car.  That evening we went to the Donauturnum Tower Restaurant as my thank you to them.  Back home Gustav smoked his cigar and told me the story of how he came to write to Nancy and then to go to the Philippines to meet her in person.  He recognized her right away amidst the whole family that greeted him on his arrival.  Then he told me about Austrian history and perceptions of the Nazis and ignorance of the concentration camps and coming from Bratislava at the end of the war as a small child and how hard it was.  They had to walk all the way and work their way to Vienna.  Then he and Nancy showed me all the English language books she rescued from the throw away box at the UN when she worked there.

 Friday 11:30 p.m.  We arrived in Balan and parked in melting snow and mud -- safe behind the gates at the house of Lia’s sister and brother-in-law.  We drove from Vienna after four days of snow and much celebration.  This morning we left the clean warm home of Nancy and Gustav and plunged immediately into conflict over a change of oil and fill up before picking up Metica and Lia.  Not enough schillings--go to the bank - no machine - find another bank after a “two” minute walk she said only to change the cash after all.  Then off to find Metica’s apartment to pick up our traveling companions.  Thirty minutes to load my car again then off toward Bucharest.  We had smooth sailing across the high Hungarian plains then climbed the highest mountain in Hungary with its metal eagle sculpture poised for flight above our heads.

 We were almost around the city when we were stopped by the police.  They checked passports and let us go on our way.  We got lost transferring from one road to the next - the usual problem.  Then on through the lower Hungarian Plains as dusk turned to the dark of night.  We decided to go on rather than stay in a hotel at the border.  Oradea did not look inviting by the dark of night.  Its streets were a torture of potholes that could not be dodged.  The sign to Cluj, where I thought we were going, was evidently not the main road through town as we were the only vehicle driving on these dark streets.  Finally we found the main road and Lia explained that it was her friend that had a house in Cluj and it is late and she did not call her to say we were coming.  We could go to her house or we could go to Lia’s house in Balan which is only 90 kilometers from the border and much closer than going on to Cluj.   Five and a half hours later driving through village after village we are somewhere off the beaten track over roads with holes so prevalent that there is no way to dodge them.  No ice, no snow, dry roads until we get to Balan and turn off on a dirt road whose melted snow has turned it into a blanket of muddy ruts.  We drove over a barely one lane bridge into more snow and ice then an impossible turn into the yard of the house – got stuck in the snow twice, but finally parked.

 First thing – bathroom, please.  Lia went into the house to get the flashlight.  I met her sister and brother-in-law.  Her sister is very sick. I walk through the mud, manure, water, ice and snow to a brand new outhouse. (No midnight trips for me!)  The outhouse is so new that its wood still smells fresh.  Back in the house Brother is stoking the fire in the furnace with coal oil and small sticks of wood.  Two electric radiators are by my side to take the chill off the air in this room that has been closed for days, weeks, months?  Smoke pours from the furnace.  Lia is busy cooking.  Eugeniu opens the lower door of the furnace and the room begins to fill with more smoke.  Lia finally comes in and opens the flue.  Her brother returns with a mellow grin and shrug of the shoulders.  I laugh.  It is too funny for words.  The room gets aired out.  More food.  Luggage is brought in from the car.  A glass of tuica is served to ward off the chill.  Metica and Eugeniu talk and laugh - both at the same time.  The house has no running water.

 I am enthroned on the sofa bed and they sit at a table.  They are profuse in compliments to me.  Metica wants to know my opinion of his prospects for a future with Lia.  I say I have none.  They insist.  I say that I have no more to say than anyone else might say.  You have a choice with whom to enjoy the day.

 It is Saturday and I am sitting on the steps of this house in Balan in the sunlight filtered through high thin clouds.  We have been so fortunate to have sunshine for our driving days with no rain or snow and very dry roads.  They are discussing the terrain, this property in particular, the village in general.  The snow has melted a lot since last night and the road is drying out as the snow melt drains toward the river.  Lia’s brother has a fine sheep’s wool hat, a vest lined with wool and rubber boots, a woolen sweater and woolen trousers.

 Friday’s trip from Vienna had been fine until 4:30 when it became dark and I had to face the drivers flashing their bright lights in my face and crowding across the center line.  Daring me to flinch?  I did not.  We drove through village after village; some with streets so bad that we had to stop and find safe passage on one side of the street or the other.  We stopped three times just to find our way out of Oradea.  Then again in Alesd and Huedin as we looked for the road to Balan.  One stretch of three kilometers was especially bad.  We drove over a huge mountain with a twisting highway.  The air was a little hazy and reflected my bright lights so I had to use dim a lot.  The drivers at night were very rude flashing bright lights in my face, especially the drivers of huge trucks.  I soon learned to flash my brights at them to stop them.  Some were courteous, but driving was tiring with one hand on the bright switch, dodging holes in the road and warning truck and bus drivers to stay in their lane.  I was glad it was dark though because there was little activity in the villages which allowed us to keep a steadier pace.

 Everyone talked and laughed until late into the night.  I awoke this morning with a great headache.  It is better at the moment, but I still don’t have any idea when we will get back home.  I am waiting in the sunshine in this quiet village watching the oxen kiss as they pause in the street in front of this house.  I wonder what the woman is pouring into the large can in the yard across the street.  Lia has put food out as fast as a magician to feed us supper and then breakfast.  She has much to discuss with her family.  Ludovica, her sister, is still very sick.  They have given Lia all of this property to manage.

 This morning I took pictures of the animals.  The mother goat watches as her little kids frolic up and down a small hill.  They are adorable.  We climbed up to the back of the property and took pictures of the village, this place and the bridge.  These villages are filled with old people.  Lia said some of the younger ones are coming back now because they can find no work elsewhere.  Emil Cioran, the philosopher, praised the simple life of the village from his environs in Paris, but he did not return to his village.  Eugeniu called it the true life.  Lia says it is a hard life.  There is much work except in winter which has its own problems.  This village is self-sufficient except for sugar and matches she told us.  A woman passes slapping two oxen to urge them on their way.  Another inspects the drainage trough her husband made for the snow melt.  A plane is heard overhead and the roosters crow.  Otherwise all is silent.  A small herd of sheep across the way pass through the field.  One new lamb is completely black.

 Eugeniu brings water from the well.  Lia has fixed lunch.  Metica snores again.  It is four o’clock.  Ciorba (sour soup) for lunch.  Supper with lamb chops and mashed potatoes and bread and spring water, delicious.  Then a walk down the road over the melting ice and snow.  We looked inside the tuica house, then walked across the bridge.  A woman led us to the village store.  Bread, a coke, cigarettes and a Twix.  We each drank an orange soda and then walked back to the house, past the new and the old village churches.  I took the rest of the pictures and had to fake it for the villager with the ox cart at the bridge.  Back at the house, Baduc went to the storage cellar to sweep out the water threatening the door.  He opened it today for the first time all winter and found the vegetables and apples in good condition.  He was afraid they had frozen.  Three beehives are nearby.  One of the bees stung him.

 We have crossed the various borders with few problems.  A car tag at Czech, a long wait at Austria and a discussion of visas with the Romanians, a pullover in Hungary to dig out the green card for the car.  We got lost once per day - at least.  In Vienna we got lost trying to find out how to turn on the street we needed and again in Budapest looking for the highway transition.

 Another meal.  Lia fixed a dumpling with brinza made from flour ground from wheat from their farm and more lamb, also from this farm.  We ate alone.  They moved to a warmer room.  I have been a grouch, but I was really tired after the long drive and the late hour was too much.  My head has hurt all day long.  Eugeniu gets upset if I ask questions like how long or how far or what is happening.  We will go home tomorrow.   From here to Cluj to Brasov then Breaza for Metica’s car.  They plan to follow us to Bucharest.  Eugeniu, too, wants a good bath.  Lia brought a pan of water for me to wash.  Lia said she washed with cold water outside.  The weather cast reported 60º for here today, but it was not that warm.  The ice melted fast, but there is still snow on the ground.  In Bucharest, it is cold - 0º C.

 My fears about getting stuck in the mud may be ill founded.  We walked on the road today and it seems solid in spite of the standing and running water and the huge holes and bumps thrown all over the road like a splatter painting.

 I thought we had packed the car as full as we could, but Lia and Metica found more room to pack food from the farm.  At the last moment, Metica decided to trim the rose bush by the front stairway.  I had my morning coffee on the porch in the beautiful sunlight.  Spring is ready to burst.  The kids were still sleeping, but the lambs were having breakfast.  The snow melt drained and the light icy coating on the road melted before we drove off.  The villagers were dressed in their Sunday best as they walked to church.  The bells of the church had a light inviting tone.  Victor and Ludovica and Baduc saw us off at last, but only after I maneuvered the car through the gate and the muddy street.

 We left Balan at about 11.  I had hoped for nine.  I drove almost constantly, but very slowly.  The roads on E 60, the European highway in Romania, are terrible.  I could not take my eyes off the pavement as it was essential to watch for holes in the road also for oncoming traffic in our lane and impatient drivers behind who would pass 2, 3, or 4 cars at a time without regard for curves or oncoming traffic.  Just as I would start to pass, some jerk would appear up my blind side.

 Sunday.  8:45 P. M.  Breaza.  I am too tired to climb up or down one more mountain.  Lia fixed me a bowl of hot soup.  It was just perfect for this cold house and the on-going head pain - day 2.  We are at Metica’s house.  It has been closed up for a long time, so it is a little musty.  The pipes were frozen, but now they are open so we have water.  A chicken is roasting in the oven and my feet are taking turns at the furnace grate.  This ceramic monster heats three rooms, but it takes a while.  I still have on my hat and coat.  Metica’s car has been sitting for a year.  It started after he broke through the ice blocking the garage door.  A small triumph.  My car is 100 yards away inside the front gate.  The snow still too deep to drive to the house.  All the luggage had to be carried through the snow to the house.

 We filled the car with gasoline near Cluj and drove on through roads that varied from smooth (45 MPH) to nearly all holes (1-5 MPH).  After Turda there was a magnificent fortress on a hilltop at Rupea and we saw the black and white church in Sighisoara.  We climbed up and down mountains on serpentine roads, once with an Italian truck driver tailgating us until he could pass us and then we had to follow him until he turned off!

 We thought it was good to travel on Sunday and that there would be no trucks as the night before, but there were a few.  There were wagons filled with hay, bicycles, pedestrians and trucks and cars parked on the road - no shoulders!  Fog settled in near Sinai so I decided to go no more.  Breaza is across the river from E 60 and the 4 K to Metica’s house seemed like 10 miles.  The comic scene was the navigators’ discussion when it was time to decide to turn or go straight.  Stinga, drapte or inainte (left, right, straight) all flying at my ears at once.  Finally I learned to stop until it was clear what road we should take.

 Lia is busy arranging things.  Metica is telling Eugen the story of the house and how he left Romania.  His sister hid 1,000 marks in her vagina to pass through the border.  She couldn’t find it.  Finally, she did.  Ceaucescu had declared only one house could be “owned” per person, except when there were two owners, so he and his sister were partners in this house.  He had planted three pine trees; thus the name of the house was Trei Brazi with an orchard of apple trees - as a bonus?  He built the house one room at a time gradually adding the others.  He had the furnace fixed for three rooms, but it didn’t work well for the back bedroom.  His sister was not happy about that.  He told about getting visas for Vienna and Yugoslavia and about eating ice cream.  In two languages there was talk of chicken, apple juice, the meaning of love, music, friends.

 Tuesday March 19, 1996.  It is snowing again.  We are at home feeling blessed that the sun was shining on each day of our drive.  Coffee, hot salami and a pan toasted bun for breakfast.  I am wearing my Prague sweat shirt, the one trophy I purchased for myself.

 Yesterday we awoke to bright sunshine high in the Carpathian mountain village of Breaza.  We had coffee and I was ready to be on the road again.  But first, they surveyed the property to determine future potential.  Metica wants to divide this land, build another house and sell the existing house.  Eugeniu advised him regarding preparations necessary to make the house ready for sale.  We took pictures of the house, the scenery, of all of us.  The drive into Bucharest was smooth.  The highway is bad only in a few places - mostly in the cities.  We parked the car and found our apartment cold but most welcoming.  It is good to be home.  The carport is too small for the car and ice by the garbage cans has to be chopped with an axe to get the car past a small pile of the winter’s snow that makes the slight angle into the carport more difficult.  We unloaded and started the thirty minute process to fill the tub with water hot enough for comfort.  Eugeniu went to buy mineral water and some food, bread and chicken.  Valentin called with news that Petre, Eugeniu’s brother, is in the hospital.  Eugen and Valentin went to visit him.  He has had a stroke but is recovering the use of his arm.  His speech is still affected.  He is in a ward with a dozen beds full of very sick people.  Today Eugen will speak with the doctor and try to arrange a transfer to a military hospital.  Terri called to discuss this and to say that Petre’s condition is very serious.  We are at home again.