Was heading back to Pitesti yesterday and as I went down into the metro at Unirii I stopped at the covrigarie (pretzel stand) to get a pastry. A covrigarie usually sells pretzels (covrigi--the big doughy kind, not like chips) but generally you can get donuts or other things like that.
Here's the fun part: this particular covrigarie is called Simit's. Now it just so happens that I recently heard a man with a bunch of pretzels on his head in Turkey yelling simit! simit! simit! And it was on the side of the cart of another man selling them and other similar things.
And! Not only is this Turkish word hanging out on a sign in Romania, but it's had English grammar applied to it, not Romanian. It's Simit's, not simitului or simituri, depending on whether you're assuming the 's was actually meant as possessive or just supposed to have been plural.
And this is only the beginning of the overlap. There won't be too much, it won't be mutually intelligible, but there's a good list of cognates going. With my very very minimal knowledge of Turkish, I would like to humbly add to that list:
cearsaf--carsaf* (sheet)
musafir--misafir (guest)
dulap--dolap (wardrope)
habar--haber (news in Turkish, but in Romanian used more like idea/knowledge)
And I'm sure a whole ton of others. Yep, all kinds of fun :)
*please note that I'm writing both Romanian and Turkish words without the proper letters--feel free to pretend there's a chka on the bottom of more than one s and c.
Showing posts with label oh snap. Show all posts
Showing posts with label oh snap. Show all posts
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Sunday, March 10, 2013
since i'm on a blogging roll
Figured I'd update on how my body's holding together.
Excited to say that my heart has only been weird once since I've left the States. Friday night it got to beating all funky again for a few hours, and that has been it. Big improvement, I'm hoping, since before it'd do it for stretches of two weeks. We'll see, but as I opted not to drug myself since they never figured out the cause, it's encouraging to see--or to hope--that something's working right. I've quit drinking soda and don't like coffee so the only caffeine I get is from hot chocolate. So yes, we shall see.
The cyst has been and continues to be asymptomatic, discovered courtesy of the untimely death of the Mighty Mazda. Hoping and expecting that to go on being the case.
And my car wreck baby. Or "the muffin-top without pants" as it was recently described. Still deformed, but shrinking more on the left and the not-hernia feels a lot smaller on that side. The question for now is if the adhesion will go away or not--this means it still looks like I've got a too-high (and now lopsided) c-section scar and even if the thing inside me absorbs completely, the adhesion might remain. Also it's still tender and still waiting on some sensation to return. But if it keeps healing at the rate it's going, I should be able to wear a bridesmaid's dress in July without looking too funky in the pictures. Not to be vain or anything... right? Also just as an aside, had a conversation with a friend recently about this and because it's sort of war-wound-y and there's a kind of morbid satisfaction in showing it off, it's cut a good amount of the would-be self-consciousness off at the knees. Thankful?
Anyway, all that to say that things are lookin' good, stayin' alive. Holler praise.
Excited to say that my heart has only been weird once since I've left the States. Friday night it got to beating all funky again for a few hours, and that has been it. Big improvement, I'm hoping, since before it'd do it for stretches of two weeks. We'll see, but as I opted not to drug myself since they never figured out the cause, it's encouraging to see--or to hope--that something's working right. I've quit drinking soda and don't like coffee so the only caffeine I get is from hot chocolate. So yes, we shall see.
The cyst has been and continues to be asymptomatic, discovered courtesy of the untimely death of the Mighty Mazda. Hoping and expecting that to go on being the case.
And my car wreck baby. Or "the muffin-top without pants" as it was recently described. Still deformed, but shrinking more on the left and the not-hernia feels a lot smaller on that side. The question for now is if the adhesion will go away or not--this means it still looks like I've got a too-high (and now lopsided) c-section scar and even if the thing inside me absorbs completely, the adhesion might remain. Also it's still tender and still waiting on some sensation to return. But if it keeps healing at the rate it's going, I should be able to wear a bridesmaid's dress in July without looking too funky in the pictures. Not to be vain or anything... right? Also just as an aside, had a conversation with a friend recently about this and because it's sort of war-wound-y and there's a kind of morbid satisfaction in showing it off, it's cut a good amount of the would-be self-consciousness off at the knees. Thankful?
Anyway, all that to say that things are lookin' good, stayin' alive. Holler praise.
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
richLANDS, ambuLANCE
Was getting lunch in the tiny little town from whence I come and saw a (printed out) sign in the bathroom that said this:
Please do not set your kids on the sink. Thanks, Management.
Except someone had written an i over top of the e in set.
And I am not even hating. I just wrote 'over top of.'
Please do not set your kids on the sink. Thanks, Management.
Except someone had written an i over top of the e in set.
And I am not even hating. I just wrote 'over top of.'
Friday, January 18, 2013
the one involving a federal investigator
So, I have said it many times: my life is a circus. And not just in the great and wonderful land of Romania. Been waiting to post this one until it was sure the police would not be calling, but as it seems we are in the safezone, to you all I present: the one involving a federal investigator.
About five weeks ago I was sitting in a coffee shop, early in the morning, skyping with that guy I like. Mostly a normal morning apart from trying to pay the cashier in RON. I'd been there about an hour, headphones in, when I realized the guy next to me had asked me a question several times. Pulled out a headphone, looked at him attentively.
I'm sorry?
Would you like a coffee?
Oh no thank you, I don't like coffee.
He had been smiling politely when he made the offer and as soon as I declined, his face dropped just like that metaphor you read sometimes about an egg or butter sliding off someone's face. Anyway his face altogether changed. But I thought nothing of it, typed a dumb joke about it into the skype window and then carried on with my conversation.
Twenty minutes later a woman with a badge (guess we're tense shifting) walks up to me and hands me this note and tells me to just read it. It's folded, so I look up and ask if everything's okay, she assures me it is, but to just read it. So I open it, pictured below:
For those of you too lazy to read backwards, apologies, I am too lazy to figure out how to flip it. Anyway it says that she is a federal investigator and tells me not to leave the store alone, she has noticed the conversation between me and the gentleman across from me.
I look up and the woman is gone. No idea where she's disappeared to. Start typing a bajillion miles an hour on skype explaining what's going on. An employee then comes up and asks me if I'm okay, I assure him that I am, that I had no idea there was a even a problem, inform him that I'm to stay put until I've got a way to leave, etc.
Except that's the thing. This is before I've gotten a phone and I've got no real way to call anyone. So I tweet the Colombiana a private message with the essentials enough to send her into panic at work (ie hey this weird thing just happened involving a federal investigator, I'm trapped at PCJ, maybe swing by and escort me out over lunch), but otherwise am not bothered enough to not go on talking on skype. However, over the next half hour, I begin to realize, okay, there's something serious going on here.
The gentleman in question--by the way, I had assumed since he looked younger than me and was dressed like a college student that he was in fact a college student--starts to talk pretty loudly to himself, something about the military, something about shooting somebody in the knee. Intense stuff. A few minutes go by, and then.
Then. All of a sudden he starts smacking himself in the face really hard, his glasses go flying, he jumps up from the table and coffee splashes everywhere, gets up in the faces of both men next to me and screams I'VE GOT A HIT ON YOU, turns back around and grabs his coffee, slings it everywhere, shouts that he did that on purpose and stomps out.
Meanwhile I haven't left the table for three hours and have really got to pee, got scared which made it worse, still wondering if I'm able to leave--really wanna leave--and if it's safe, if dude who stormed out is okay, if the two old men are okay, all meanwhile skypefriend gets to watch and not be able to do anything. And still little way to contact the outside world. So glad this happened in public.
Anyway, the rest is that the employees made a copy of the note and eventually I got too antsy to wait on being walked out and booked it out of there doing laps of the parking lot first. So for everyone expecting this sort of thing to happen in Eastern Europe, good old Wilmywood got there first.
About five weeks ago I was sitting in a coffee shop, early in the morning, skyping with that guy I like. Mostly a normal morning apart from trying to pay the cashier in RON. I'd been there about an hour, headphones in, when I realized the guy next to me had asked me a question several times. Pulled out a headphone, looked at him attentively.
I'm sorry?
Would you like a coffee?
Oh no thank you, I don't like coffee.
He had been smiling politely when he made the offer and as soon as I declined, his face dropped just like that metaphor you read sometimes about an egg or butter sliding off someone's face. Anyway his face altogether changed. But I thought nothing of it, typed a dumb joke about it into the skype window and then carried on with my conversation.
Twenty minutes later a woman with a badge (guess we're tense shifting) walks up to me and hands me this note and tells me to just read it. It's folded, so I look up and ask if everything's okay, she assures me it is, but to just read it. So I open it, pictured below:
For those of you too lazy to read backwards, apologies, I am too lazy to figure out how to flip it. Anyway it says that she is a federal investigator and tells me not to leave the store alone, she has noticed the conversation between me and the gentleman across from me.
I look up and the woman is gone. No idea where she's disappeared to. Start typing a bajillion miles an hour on skype explaining what's going on. An employee then comes up and asks me if I'm okay, I assure him that I am, that I had no idea there was a even a problem, inform him that I'm to stay put until I've got a way to leave, etc.
Except that's the thing. This is before I've gotten a phone and I've got no real way to call anyone. So I tweet the Colombiana a private message with the essentials enough to send her into panic at work (ie hey this weird thing just happened involving a federal investigator, I'm trapped at PCJ, maybe swing by and escort me out over lunch), but otherwise am not bothered enough to not go on talking on skype. However, over the next half hour, I begin to realize, okay, there's something serious going on here.
The gentleman in question--by the way, I had assumed since he looked younger than me and was dressed like a college student that he was in fact a college student--starts to talk pretty loudly to himself, something about the military, something about shooting somebody in the knee. Intense stuff. A few minutes go by, and then.
Then. All of a sudden he starts smacking himself in the face really hard, his glasses go flying, he jumps up from the table and coffee splashes everywhere, gets up in the faces of both men next to me and screams I'VE GOT A HIT ON YOU, turns back around and grabs his coffee, slings it everywhere, shouts that he did that on purpose and stomps out.
Meanwhile I haven't left the table for three hours and have really got to pee, got scared which made it worse, still wondering if I'm able to leave--really wanna leave--and if it's safe, if dude who stormed out is okay, if the two old men are okay, all meanwhile skypefriend gets to watch and not be able to do anything. And still little way to contact the outside world. So glad this happened in public.
Anyway, the rest is that the employees made a copy of the note and eventually I got too antsy to wait on being walked out and booked it out of there doing laps of the parking lot first. So for everyone expecting this sort of thing to happen in Eastern Europe, good old Wilmywood got there first.
Thursday, November 29, 2012
culturalizing
An illustration of the state of my brain right now:
I'm sitting at my kitchen table, waiting on a skype call, looking for a specific verse, when I decide I'd like some hot chocolate. Not too many better ways to spend a morning. So I put a little pot on to boil like usual and go back to the table. What feels like about ten minutes goes by and while I can hear the stove, I still haven't heard the water start to boil. So I get up and peak around the divider wall thing and see that the water's still not boiling and then sit back down to wait some more. At some point I notice that it smells funny. Three or so minutes go by and when I see it hasn't changed at all, I walk up to the stove and realize, heyo! I've managed to put the pot on the left eye while always use the right one.
Set it on the right eye, sit down shaking my head at how frazzled my brain is with all the packing and getting ready to leave. Then the skype call starts, and I'm all, haha I'm doing crazy people things! Let me tell you this story about how absentminded my last half hour has been. So I begin to tell the story and as I explain about having smelled something, my brain's thinking about why I'd smell something this time when I don't normally. And mid-sentence--
I haven't even lit the eye! The pot's just sitting on it while the gas is wide open. I run over, grab the lighter to light it, and finally, twenty minutes after this story began my brain activates, I put the lighter down and open the window.
In the end I got my hot chocolate. No explosions, no getting gassed.
What's great too is that just a week ago I saw a hysterical Romanian film and one of the (supposedly true) stories in it is about this greedy policeman who gets a pig for Christmas. He lives in Bucuresti, it's during Communism, and I got the impression that it was illegal to cut a pig in the city. But not wanting to get caught or share it with his neighbors, he and his brother wrap it up in a blanket and carry it upstairs, all the while it's squalling.
The family can't figure out how to kill it without waking up the whole bloc and the boy suggests they gas it. They tape up all the windows, unplug the fuse and lock it in the kitchen with the gas wide open. When it's finally dead, in order to cut it up, they've got to get rid of all its hair. So the greedy policeman pulls out his handy blowtorch and as he goes to burn its hair off... yep, exploding pig.
So it seems I'm culturalizing well.
I'm sitting at my kitchen table, waiting on a skype call, looking for a specific verse, when I decide I'd like some hot chocolate. Not too many better ways to spend a morning. So I put a little pot on to boil like usual and go back to the table. What feels like about ten minutes goes by and while I can hear the stove, I still haven't heard the water start to boil. So I get up and peak around the divider wall thing and see that the water's still not boiling and then sit back down to wait some more. At some point I notice that it smells funny. Three or so minutes go by and when I see it hasn't changed at all, I walk up to the stove and realize, heyo! I've managed to put the pot on the left eye while always use the right one.
Set it on the right eye, sit down shaking my head at how frazzled my brain is with all the packing and getting ready to leave. Then the skype call starts, and I'm all, haha I'm doing crazy people things! Let me tell you this story about how absentminded my last half hour has been. So I begin to tell the story and as I explain about having smelled something, my brain's thinking about why I'd smell something this time when I don't normally. And mid-sentence--
I haven't even lit the eye! The pot's just sitting on it while the gas is wide open. I run over, grab the lighter to light it, and finally, twenty minutes after this story began my brain activates, I put the lighter down and open the window.
In the end I got my hot chocolate. No explosions, no getting gassed.
What's great too is that just a week ago I saw a hysterical Romanian film and one of the (supposedly true) stories in it is about this greedy policeman who gets a pig for Christmas. He lives in Bucuresti, it's during Communism, and I got the impression that it was illegal to cut a pig in the city. But not wanting to get caught or share it with his neighbors, he and his brother wrap it up in a blanket and carry it upstairs, all the while it's squalling.
The family can't figure out how to kill it without waking up the whole bloc and the boy suggests they gas it. They tape up all the windows, unplug the fuse and lock it in the kitchen with the gas wide open. When it's finally dead, in order to cut it up, they've got to get rid of all its hair. So the greedy policeman pulls out his handy blowtorch and as he goes to burn its hair off... yep, exploding pig.
So it seems I'm culturalizing well.
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
there's a joke in here somewhere about twitterpated>>twitterpation
Many moons ago, knowing the sorts of inane things I am usually inclined to share, I vowed never to get a twitter. If you are curious, this is why.
I caved a little short of two years ago. But I had a good reason. If you connect twitter to your phone, you can basically text people on the other side of the world for the cost of a regular text. (By the way, I realize it means I'm way behind on the rest of the world, but I found out a few weeks ago you can do the same thing between two iPhones without twitter. What do you know.) The short version of what happened next is that last night I discovered some holes in my control over what's visible where and to whom. So between the swing from I hate the internet! to I quit! I'm deleting it all! I never existed!, reason did what it does best and I decided to peruse the privacy options. Instead, I came face to face with two years of... well. You can imagine.
Internet, if I am not careful, if I ever have a legacy, this will be it:
6 Oct 10: thinking about the physics of my bagel not flying away (too heavy?) till i put it on its baggy that made a really good sail.. bye bye bagel.
23 Oct 10: Walking down market, lots of cars passing by, headphones in. Nobody can hear me singing, right?
6 Oct 10: just watched buddy the elf get chased by ringwraiths through central park! how have i never seen this movie?!
29 Jan 11: listening to a song in mongolian and they have this u sound that is so far forward and so rounded it sounds like it's gonna push itself out.
23 May 11: dear gracious, somebody somewhere in berceni is cooking fish.
23 Jun 11: Drinking milk with reckless abandon
12 Aug 11: a car just drove by blasting what sounded like the 80s, nintendo & laser tag. buuuh.
27 Nov 11: doing rly difficult ab exercises w the roomie & she yells at me not to give birth. well. first time anyone's ever said that to me.
28 Nov 11: at a meeting & just said i was yawning (casc) & someone thought i said i was giving birth (nasc). that's twice in two days, y'all.
14 Jan 12: my brother josh: "are you barking?" me: "NOOOO! i'm singing!" man... harsh.
26 Feb 12: still don't have hot water, only frigid, hurts-to-wash-your-hands water. anyone wanna guess how many days it's been since i last showered?
16 Mar 12: weird things you find cleaning out your bookbag: a squashed subway cookie from orientation in aug (in england) and a $2 bill.
17 May 12: unable to move this morning from: sleeping on a bench last night at petra, falling on my head, boot camp booty blaster or all of the above.
26 May 12: after narrowly avoiding it this morning, i realized the only thing worse than stepping in dog poop is stepping in rained-on dog poop
27 Aug 12: taking off a wetsuit: probably the most un-ladylike thing i'll ever do apart from giving birth.
7 Nov 12: as long as we're sending out tests, 'every year you grow, so shall i'--my butt says to me. apologies to cslewis for my irreverence.*
7 Nov 12: why stop now: war! HUUNHGH! what is it good for? absolutely nothaaaaang! (anyone else think abt throwing up at the HUNH! part of that song?)*
(Not the slightest clue of how to end this.)
(*These will be familiar to one of you... I had to send out a few test tweets to figure out the privacy options and all that came to mind were those snippets from this week--not sure whether to apologize for the repost or thank you for all the whack things that come out of my mouth when we talk. But having a blast. Thanks for that.)
Actually it's clear now that the only possible way to end this is to point out that if you include the one about the u sound pushing itself out, there is very disproportionate number of tweets represented that have to do with giving birth. I feel like my head just exploded.
I caved a little short of two years ago. But I had a good reason. If you connect twitter to your phone, you can basically text people on the other side of the world for the cost of a regular text. (By the way, I realize it means I'm way behind on the rest of the world, but I found out a few weeks ago you can do the same thing between two iPhones without twitter. What do you know.) The short version of what happened next is that last night I discovered some holes in my control over what's visible where and to whom. So between the swing from I hate the internet! to I quit! I'm deleting it all! I never existed!, reason did what it does best and I decided to peruse the privacy options. Instead, I came face to face with two years of... well. You can imagine.
Internet, if I am not careful, if I ever have a legacy, this will be it:
6 Oct 10: thinking about the physics of my bagel not flying away (too heavy?) till i put it on its baggy that made a really good sail.. bye bye bagel.
23 Oct 10: Walking down market, lots of cars passing by, headphones in. Nobody can hear me singing, right?
6 Oct 10: just watched buddy the elf get chased by ringwraiths through central park! how have i never seen this movie?!
29 Jan 11: listening to a song in mongolian and they have this u sound that is so far forward and so rounded it sounds like it's gonna push itself out.
23 May 11: dear gracious, somebody somewhere in berceni is cooking fish.
23 Jun 11: Drinking milk with reckless abandon
12 Aug 11: a car just drove by blasting what sounded like the 80s, nintendo & laser tag. buuuh.
27 Nov 11: doing rly difficult ab exercises w the roomie & she yells at me not to give birth. well. first time anyone's ever said that to me.
28 Nov 11: at a meeting & just said i was yawning (casc) & someone thought i said i was giving birth (nasc). that's twice in two days, y'all.
14 Jan 12: my brother josh: "are you barking?" me: "NOOOO! i'm singing!" man... harsh.
26 Feb 12: still don't have hot water, only frigid, hurts-to-wash-your-hands water. anyone wanna guess how many days it's been since i last showered?
16 Mar 12: weird things you find cleaning out your bookbag: a squashed subway cookie from orientation in aug (in england) and a $2 bill.
17 May 12: unable to move this morning from: sleeping on a bench last night at petra, falling on my head, boot camp booty blaster or all of the above.
26 May 12: after narrowly avoiding it this morning, i realized the only thing worse than stepping in dog poop is stepping in rained-on dog poop
27 Aug 12: taking off a wetsuit: probably the most un-ladylike thing i'll ever do apart from giving birth.
7 Nov 12: as long as we're sending out tests, 'every year you grow, so shall i'--my butt says to me. apologies to cslewis for my irreverence.*
7 Nov 12: why stop now: war! HUUNHGH! what is it good for? absolutely nothaaaaang! (anyone else think abt throwing up at the HUNH! part of that song?)*
(Not the slightest clue of how to end this.)
(*These will be familiar to one of you... I had to send out a few test tweets to figure out the privacy options and all that came to mind were those snippets from this week--not sure whether to apologize for the repost or thank you for all the whack things that come out of my mouth when we talk. But having a blast. Thanks for that.)
Actually it's clear now that the only possible way to end this is to point out that if you include the one about the u sound pushing itself out, there is very disproportionate number of tweets represented that have to do with giving birth. I feel like my head just exploded.
Friday, September 14, 2012
another day in the life
In today's episode of Life in Romanialand, Sarawr goes to give money to the administrator of her bloc (his apartment is about ten feet from hers). He answers the door in nothing but his boxers.
Sarawr realizes this is the first time she's ever made a financial transaction with a nearly naked man. Hoping not to do it again.
As the say in the dirty South: "Lord have mercy..."
Sarawr realizes this is the first time she's ever made a financial transaction with a nearly naked man. Hoping not to do it again.
As the say in the dirty South: "Lord have mercy..."
Saturday, September 1, 2012
ATTACK OF THE PIGEONS!
Y'all. The title says it all. Also, I hate pigeons.
[In case you didn't watch the third video, I am not a pigeon terrorist. I am in fact a daily victim of pigeon terrorism.]
This was meant to be a quiet morning on my day off... anyway they haven't come back. I can still hear them but I think that's it for now...
[In case you didn't watch the third video, I am not a pigeon terrorist. I am in fact a daily victim of pigeon terrorism.]
This was meant to be a quiet morning on my day off... anyway they haven't come back. I can still hear them but I think that's it for now...
Monday, August 13, 2012
bunnies and bears, oh my
This weekend we--the student/high school leaders for OSCPi--were meant to go camping on the mountain, talk about the vision for the movement, make plans, etc. And let me tell you. It was from top to bottom Romanian in every way possible, and that includes bears.
So we woke up Friday morning when we were supposed to leave and it was pouring and it was forecasted to for the rest of the weekend. The heat had finally broken the night before which meant I spent the night watching it storm like it was the last thing it would ever do and also not sweating. Glorious. Except that it wasn't done when we got up so a couple of phone calls were made and it was decided that we were canceling the trip and instead would meet together in town for the day.
An hour later we get a phone call saying, okay, we're un-canceling, but we'll just go up for the day and then come back. Just bring a few things. And be ready to come down when we call to pick you up at 11. Two hours go by, and at noon I get a call saying, actually just kidding, we are going! And we're staying! But just for one night so pack for that and we'll be there in half an hour. A good Romanian start.
We get there, we camp, we discussion vision, we grill, we pee in the woods, hang out around the campfire and look at the stars. Lots of fun. We also joke a lot about bears coming to eat us--we're joking because it's a distinct possibility that a bear might come and wanna hang out with us and what are you going to do? But we're careful, we put all of our food in the car, all the necessary precautions. And then bed, in the tents, five girls in one, three guys in another.
Around four in the morning I wake up because a dog is going crazy in the next camp over. I fall back asleep. Wake right back up again because one of the guys in that camp is setting the alarm on and off in his car. And every time here turns it off, he starts making car alarm noises with his mouth and clapping. Well there's only one reason he'd be making that much racket at four a.m. So I'm lying there in the dark just listening and I could hear a couple of the other girls shifting around and dude with his car noises starts to get funny to me so I decided to say something:
"Mama, parca vorbeste cu masina..." (Good gracious, it's like he's talking to his car.)
The other girls who weren't already awake wake up then. We hear our guys talking with the neighbors and hear that, yes indeed, a bear has come to visit. One girl gets scared. It's quiet for a while and then the dog starts barking again. And the car starts alarming. And the dude starts talking to it. If the bear came back, he never got close enough to us to hear him. So we all go back to sleep, snuggled up and toasty and crammed all in our tent. Happy ending.
The next day we got to do more retreat-y stuff and the rain held off until a little after we left. We were pretty close to Balea Lac, this lake way up on the mountain that you get to by driving along the world's curviest road (see here) with eight people squeezed into the little car. Super pretty. We took pictures, left, drove until the gigantic dam in Vidraru with all eight of us in the pouring rain. Once we got there, it stopped, so we let three out to hitchhike back and went on our way again.
So there we are, speeding along in the dark, when our general secretary slams on the brakes. We skid around a little (the road's still wet) but stay on the road and finally stop. He then backs up about thirty meters because apparently we hit a bunny, which, yes, he had tried very hard not to hit. (The girls next to me are squealing iepurasule! iepurasule!) And here is the best part:
He gets out of the car to look at. He then picks it up by its little bunny ears--it's definitely dead--and holds it in the headlights so we can see it. Then he puts it back down, gets back in the car, asks his wife if they can take it home to eat it, they can wrap it up really well and put it in the trunk. She refuses, says he's making her sick! I mention how Alaskans harvest fresh moose roadkill and donate it to the poor. The girls next to me start to hyperventilate. And then. Then. He gets back out of the car and says he wants a picture with it. So there now exists a picture of our general secretary, one hand over his heart, the other holding up a run-over rabbit whose (sorry) insides are dangling about six inches below it, still attached of course.
In the end we all get back in one piece, minus our rabbit friend, plus our hitchhikers. Always an adventure. Love this place.
So we woke up Friday morning when we were supposed to leave and it was pouring and it was forecasted to for the rest of the weekend. The heat had finally broken the night before which meant I spent the night watching it storm like it was the last thing it would ever do and also not sweating. Glorious. Except that it wasn't done when we got up so a couple of phone calls were made and it was decided that we were canceling the trip and instead would meet together in town for the day.
An hour later we get a phone call saying, okay, we're un-canceling, but we'll just go up for the day and then come back. Just bring a few things. And be ready to come down when we call to pick you up at 11. Two hours go by, and at noon I get a call saying, actually just kidding, we are going! And we're staying! But just for one night so pack for that and we'll be there in half an hour. A good Romanian start.
We get there, we camp, we discussion vision, we grill, we pee in the woods, hang out around the campfire and look at the stars. Lots of fun. We also joke a lot about bears coming to eat us--we're joking because it's a distinct possibility that a bear might come and wanna hang out with us and what are you going to do? But we're careful, we put all of our food in the car, all the necessary precautions. And then bed, in the tents, five girls in one, three guys in another.
Around four in the morning I wake up because a dog is going crazy in the next camp over. I fall back asleep. Wake right back up again because one of the guys in that camp is setting the alarm on and off in his car. And every time here turns it off, he starts making car alarm noises with his mouth and clapping. Well there's only one reason he'd be making that much racket at four a.m. So I'm lying there in the dark just listening and I could hear a couple of the other girls shifting around and dude with his car noises starts to get funny to me so I decided to say something:
"Mama, parca vorbeste cu masina..." (Good gracious, it's like he's talking to his car.)
The other girls who weren't already awake wake up then. We hear our guys talking with the neighbors and hear that, yes indeed, a bear has come to visit. One girl gets scared. It's quiet for a while and then the dog starts barking again. And the car starts alarming. And the dude starts talking to it. If the bear came back, he never got close enough to us to hear him. So we all go back to sleep, snuggled up and toasty and crammed all in our tent. Happy ending.
The next day we got to do more retreat-y stuff and the rain held off until a little after we left. We were pretty close to Balea Lac, this lake way up on the mountain that you get to by driving along the world's curviest road (see here) with eight people squeezed into the little car. Super pretty. We took pictures, left, drove until the gigantic dam in Vidraru with all eight of us in the pouring rain. Once we got there, it stopped, so we let three out to hitchhike back and went on our way again.
So there we are, speeding along in the dark, when our general secretary slams on the brakes. We skid around a little (the road's still wet) but stay on the road and finally stop. He then backs up about thirty meters because apparently we hit a bunny, which, yes, he had tried very hard not to hit. (The girls next to me are squealing iepurasule! iepurasule!) And here is the best part:
He gets out of the car to look at. He then picks it up by its little bunny ears--it's definitely dead--and holds it in the headlights so we can see it. Then he puts it back down, gets back in the car, asks his wife if they can take it home to eat it, they can wrap it up really well and put it in the trunk. She refuses, says he's making her sick! I mention how Alaskans harvest fresh moose roadkill and donate it to the poor. The girls next to me start to hyperventilate. And then. Then. He gets back out of the car and says he wants a picture with it. So there now exists a picture of our general secretary, one hand over his heart, the other holding up a run-over rabbit whose (sorry) insides are dangling about six inches below it, still attached of course.
In the end we all get back in one piece, minus our rabbit friend, plus our hitchhikers. Always an adventure. Love this place.
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
language craziness and what the heat's really doing to us all
One more reason learning a new language is an adventure:
This past weekend I was at a wedding and was one of the greeters/lead-you-to-your-seat-ers at the reception. After spending half the day in heels, my feet were hurting, so before anyone really got there, I took my shoes off. And once they did get there, I kept doing what I was doing without putting my shoes on. My gensec rebuked me later, barefooted pagan that I am, and made me go put them back on. And so I was telling this story to a(n American) friend last night over skype and got to the part about my gensec coming up to me and this is what came out of my mouth:
"Yeah, and then he came up to me and rebuked me for running around naked."
NOT SURE WHERE THAT CAME FROM. Barefoot! Not naked! Really red Sarawr.
There is a logical explanation--one I'm not fully convinced of--but there's this: in Romanian, for barefoot, you say picoarele goale. Bare feet, naked feet. If you were naked, you'd say gol--the plural feminine then is goale. (If anyone else wants to geek out with me about etymology here, feel free--although apparently our word goal comes from Middle English... and the sense of empty, like an empty goal, like a place you put a ball has nothing to do with bare/empty... kind of a stretch I guess but it's what my brain put together and made a lot of sense until I looked it up just now.)
The only thing that leaves me unconvinced is that when I'm talking about being barefoot in Romanian, I don't think 'being naked footed' or anything--I think not having shoes or socks on. I expect this is a good thing because it means I'm not translating in my head.
However that still leaves us with no explanation for why I said naked. Theories abound, some about American expressions, others more speculative. Powers of analysis. We'll get there.
But let's be real, y'all. It's hot here. And I have a deep love for pantslessness (and descriptivism, zing!). And my poor roommate and I are surviving the 100 degree days and 85 degree nights and no AC or fan (which is totally fine except that the apartment is not built for keeping cool), so this is clearly about a) brain addled from the heat and b) brain's suggested solution to relieve heat and prevent addling.
Well then. Suggestion noted. Will take into consideration.
Friday, August 3, 2012
wherein the plane probably nearly crashes
(and sarawr tense-shifts and writes the words throw up a lot... sorry)
It was actually a pretty bumpy flight in general but at first I didn't think anything of it because it was pretty cloudy over Berlin when we took off. And after a late night dancing and saying goodbye to an incredible group of people, all I wanted to do was sleep anyway. And finally I managed it but by the time I did we'd started to descend and by then it'd gotten a lot bumpier.
So a little bit of turbulence, fairly normal, no? Except it was completely clear and not just shaky but kind of roll-y too. You know the feeling when you first take off and for a second there's that weightless feeling and your stomach drops? Imagine that but coming every few seconds because it feels like the plane is dropping and then gliding, back and forth, over and over again. Except it's also sort of pitching sideways, sort of rolling--it's subtle, it's not spinning, but it's there, like you keep over-correcting.
By the time we were pretty low, maybe forty or fifty feet off the ground, all I could think was that it would be better for the plane to drop out of the sky where it was than to be on it while it was moving any longer. I was so sick. And I do get carsick if I read or we're going through the mountains, but I don't ever throw up. But it was coming, I could feel it. Less than a minute later you could see the runway rushing underneath the plane--still bumping/floating/rolling--right at the point you expect to feel the wheels touch down on the pavement.
You know that other feeling as you're taxi-ing, about to take off, and they give it all the power and you're pushed back in your seat? Well the plane did this weird up-down-up thing, kind of pitched to the left and then I guess they gave it full power because it felt just like that and we were taking back off. Only we hadn't touched down. The pilot said something about going around again for another try--that's it. My first thought was it was the copilot landing and he'd never done it before. And then I didn't care because they were turning really sharply and it felt like we were at a forty-five degree angle to the ground and the hairs on the dude next to me's arms were touching my arm and all I could do was say to myself: don't throw up don't throw up don't throw up.
The next ten minutes were even bumpier and pitchier, and what felt like lower and faster so even worse. It was quiet on the plane too--I don't know if anyone was scared or not. Maybe, but if they were feeling anything like I was then they were too busy being sick to think about it. Oh, and I didn't have one of those bags they give out for this purpose. Dude next to me did but I figured if I grabbed it I'd be giving myself permission and how awful would that be--first you throw up and then you have to carry it off the plane in a baggy. And then someone up ahead of me starting throwing up. And let me tell you, twenty minutes later when my stomach forgave the pilot, I could laugh about this: it sounded exactly like a ten-year-old fake throwing up on a cartoon. Or:
BLRGHGHHRLLHRHGHGHGHRRRLHGHGHGRHEEEEH
But all I could think was stoooooop you can't throw up! You're gonna make me throw up! Stop stop stop! So there I am fanning myself and dude next to me has caught on and starts fanning me with his newspaper and finally we touch down. I am radiating heat.
We finally get off and I've never been so glad to be off a plane in my life, including one that took nine hours spent squeezed between a really huge guy, a hiking backpack and the window. Walking down one of the hallways a few Germans behind me started making fun of whoever was throwing up and honestly they sounded exactly like it.
Oh! I forgot to say! Once we landed the pilot got back on and said what had happened was that as we tried to land a big gust of wind came and lifted us up. Sounds plausible. I told a friend about it and she said that seemed a little suspicious so whether that really caused it or not I have no idea. Do they tell you if it's something out of their control? But once again, whether because I was too busy trying not to be sick or because it takes a lot more than turbulence to scare me, I never felt like we were about to die or crash or anything unsafe. Amazing Lufthansa gets us there safely once again.
And I'm flying them again on the way back home in December. We'll see how it goes...
Thursday, June 28, 2012
drug-induced rant
Discovery of the day: in a parallel universe the pharmacist lady just became responsible for the conception of my first child.
Explanation: y'all, I'm sick. And I never get sick, but I slept in the same bed as a coughing sick French girl last week and Saturday morning upon waking up, lo and behold, swollen lymph nodes. Normally this is the worst of it, thanks to a good immune system, but here I am five days later on the edge of death.
So I sucked it up last night after a rough previous night and lots of insisting on the part of Doamna Flori and went to the pharmacy. What I left with was a lifetime supply of amoxicillin and other goodies. However, since I've never been able to get antibiotics without a prescription I decided to read about it on the internet and make sure I was taking what I needed to be.
Turns out amoxicillin can cancel the effects of oral contraceptives! Heyo! Now of course that is in all ways irrelevant for me but the pharmacist never asked me anything about it and I'm reading it everywhere. It'd be one thing if I were an eighty year old man but I'm twenty-three and a girl. Maybe I'm just used to being given the third degree by American doctors--then again, maybe on the other hand if you can get stuff like this without a prescription here it's your job to make sure it's not going to counteract anything else you're taking. (I'm currently singing the STIM song...)
The short of it is that I don't like taking medicine and the only time ever ever do is times like now. This is partly why. Other than that, it always makes me feel really funny. What I'm taking now is supposedly non-drowsy but I've been weird and dizzy all day. Walking up the hill I live on earlier today I felt like I was just going to tip over the whole time. I have a crazy story from the last time I took Benadryl. Buh feel like I'm on drugs.
Seriously I have no idea how to end this post. I guess it's high time I just quit typing (oh snap).
Explanation: y'all, I'm sick. And I never get sick, but I slept in the same bed as a coughing sick French girl last week and Saturday morning upon waking up, lo and behold, swollen lymph nodes. Normally this is the worst of it, thanks to a good immune system, but here I am five days later on the edge of death.
So I sucked it up last night after a rough previous night and lots of insisting on the part of Doamna Flori and went to the pharmacy. What I left with was a lifetime supply of amoxicillin and other goodies. However, since I've never been able to get antibiotics without a prescription I decided to read about it on the internet and make sure I was taking what I needed to be.
Turns out amoxicillin can cancel the effects of oral contraceptives! Heyo! Now of course that is in all ways irrelevant for me but the pharmacist never asked me anything about it and I'm reading it everywhere. It'd be one thing if I were an eighty year old man but I'm twenty-three and a girl. Maybe I'm just used to being given the third degree by American doctors--then again, maybe on the other hand if you can get stuff like this without a prescription here it's your job to make sure it's not going to counteract anything else you're taking. (I'm currently singing the STIM song...)
The short of it is that I don't like taking medicine and the only time ever ever do is times like now. This is partly why. Other than that, it always makes me feel really funny. What I'm taking now is supposedly non-drowsy but I've been weird and dizzy all day. Walking up the hill I live on earlier today I felt like I was just going to tip over the whole time. I have a crazy story from the last time I took Benadryl. Buh feel like I'm on drugs.
Seriously I have no idea how to end this post. I guess it's high time I just quit typing (oh snap).
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
typical romanian day
1. Trying on a pair of pants at the second hand store (to cut into shorts), the lady guarding the changing booth stuck her head in the curtain and struck up a conversation with me while I changing.
Romanca: "Are they good? Do they fit?"
Sarawr the Dinosaur: "Yeeees... I think so."
Pause. Assume the conversation is over. Kind of turn around and remove pants.
Romanca: "Oooooh I love your little stars!"
Pause. Wonder if there are stars on the pants. Turn and look at her and wonder if anyone else besides her can see me in my underwear. It suddenly occurs to me that she's talking about my sweaty heathen tattoo.
Sarawr the Dinosaur: "Oh, yeah. Thanks."
Romanca: "Did it hurt? I've never seen one like that! It's so great!"
Don't have the heart to tell her I usually wish I hadn't gotten it. Conversation continues. Dressing resumes.
Sarawr the Dinosaur, fully clothed: "Okay, well have a great day. I think I'll buy these."
Romanca, also fully clothed, to colleague: "Fraaaaate, did you see that girl's stars?"
I'm still wondering.
2. Waiting at the post office the other day, hoping I don't get yelled at again by scary post office window lady (I did, but everything worked out in the end), I look up and see this sign about what to do when an earthquake hits:
Keep yo calm down, people.
3. Just now on the way to the store, I hear a guy making hyena noises and a yappy little dog going crazy. Upon rounding the corner and further inspection, I see a tiny old lady (to whom the yappy dog belongs and is attached, via leash) beating a teenager with her cane. He is on a set of stairs with his legs up fending her off so from what I can tell she is beating the bottoms of his feet. The hyena sounds are coming from one of his several friends standing around laughing at him.
Epic grandma win.
Level: day in Romania: normal.
Romanca: "Are they good? Do they fit?"
Sarawr the Dinosaur: "Yeeees... I think so."
Pause. Assume the conversation is over. Kind of turn around and remove pants.
Romanca: "Oooooh I love your little stars!"
Pause. Wonder if there are stars on the pants. Turn and look at her and wonder if anyone else besides her can see me in my underwear. It suddenly occurs to me that she's talking about my sweaty heathen tattoo.
Sarawr the Dinosaur: "Oh, yeah. Thanks."
Romanca: "Did it hurt? I've never seen one like that! It's so great!"
Don't have the heart to tell her I usually wish I hadn't gotten it. Conversation continues. Dressing resumes.
Sarawr the Dinosaur, fully clothed: "Okay, well have a great day. I think I'll buy these."
Romanca, also fully clothed, to colleague: "Fraaaaate, did you see that girl's stars?"
I'm still wondering.
2. Waiting at the post office the other day, hoping I don't get yelled at again by scary post office window lady (I did, but everything worked out in the end), I look up and see this sign about what to do when an earthquake hits:
Keep yo calm down, people.
3. Just now on the way to the store, I hear a guy making hyena noises and a yappy little dog going crazy. Upon rounding the corner and further inspection, I see a tiny old lady (to whom the yappy dog belongs and is attached, via leash) beating a teenager with her cane. He is on a set of stairs with his legs up fending her off so from what I can tell she is beating the bottoms of his feet. The hyena sounds are coming from one of his several friends standing around laughing at him.
Epic grandma win.
Level: day in Romania: normal.
Friday, March 9, 2012
driving
When I went down to the store this morning I saw that a car had crashed into a power pole near the corner of my bloc. There was a whole crowd of people around just looking. The front end of the car was gone, practically, and I'm still not sure how the driver managed it. It happened in sort of an awkward part of the street with a sort-of intersection, one where you can't really build up much speed.
For all that people say about driving here, driving in cities in this part of Europe (or South America, New York City, lots of other places), I actually feel way safer here. People drive crazier, maybe more risky, sure, but most of the time it seems to me they're more in control, are more aware of what their car can do and where it is in relation to other cars. Even if that means there's a foot between you and the next one versus a car's length.
This past weekend I spent a grand total of about forty hours in the car and actually that's probably a conservative estimate. I love car trips, though, and for me they're rarely dull. So I thought I'd share some of the more interesting things that happened, like hitchhiking and bootlegging the car back together.
--First, we didn't think they were going to let me into Bulgaria (leaving Romania). I think I have a suspicious face or something because it's not uncommon for me to get stopped when I go through security at the airports (not interrogated or anything), but never anything like this. The guy stared for ten minutes at me and my passport (after he'd given back the other two) and asked a bunch of weird questions. The worst part is that when I get nervous about something like that I start to laugh--not haha laugh, more like snickering, so I seem even more suspicious. Anyway, in the end he let us through.
--Got to cross the blue Danube on a ferry! Warning: the fun of this is canceled out by the fact that you will spend your life savings to do it.
--Nearly flipped the car after going over some, for lack of better word, waves in the road at something like 120 km/h. We couldn't see them before we were right on top of them and you can imagine, backseat with no seat belt, went bouncing/flying all over the backseat, car starts fishtailing and somehow in the end we end up straight, still on the road, mostly in one piece. Something started dragging behind the front wheel though so our innovative general secretary pulled pliers and wire out of the trunk and rigged the whole thing back together.
--Somewhere along the way what was supposed to have been an eleven hour trip turned into twenty hours, and the engine also started overheating. Actually I'm not sure what was happening, at first they thought it was the radiator but it wasn't, and we had to stop every twenty minutes or so to add water. Think: lots of conversations in usually at least three languages at once. Communication and its various forms blow my mind. So cool.
--When we finally got to Albania we made a wrong turn and went north instead of south and finally stopped to ask for directions. We talked to some police and what I remember is the man pointing to a map, waving around saying 'you: here! Vlore: here! One four zero kilometer!'
--Lots of the same with the overheating on the way back. But we made it in once piece after lots of praying and lots of water.
--We dropped one of our people off in Bucuresti and after that picked up two hitchhikers hanging out near Pacii. Have never done that before and always wanted to. This one's worth its own post altogether.
--And last but not least. I drove between Bucuresti and Pitesti! It should be said that before then, I hadn't driven in more than a year (since I was last in the States). And that I'd only driven a stick once about eight years ago. So I knew in theory how to do it, sort of, but it wasn't reflex yet, still required lots of thinking. Also, I should say that we think it's legal that I drove. My license is still valid in the States and... anyway, we think it's legal. But I drove! Well! On a stick shift!
And hey, still alive.
Oh! And just for fun, nothing to do with driving but it happened over that weekend, I sat square in the middle of this, after one person tastes the raki/tuica pulled out of someone's bookbag:
"It's Albanian water! Do you want to taste it?"
"Is that like Turkish viagra, then?"
First dude starts hyperventilating.
Second dude continues, "Lokum, that's what they call it."
A lot of sputtering and laughing and shenanigans.
First dude says with a wink, "You know, it is like the Bible says: test everything."
Once again, with the assurance that this was a g-rated and Christian conference, still alive :)
For all that people say about driving here, driving in cities in this part of Europe (or South America, New York City, lots of other places), I actually feel way safer here. People drive crazier, maybe more risky, sure, but most of the time it seems to me they're more in control, are more aware of what their car can do and where it is in relation to other cars. Even if that means there's a foot between you and the next one versus a car's length.
This past weekend I spent a grand total of about forty hours in the car and actually that's probably a conservative estimate. I love car trips, though, and for me they're rarely dull. So I thought I'd share some of the more interesting things that happened, like hitchhiking and bootlegging the car back together.
--First, we didn't think they were going to let me into Bulgaria (leaving Romania). I think I have a suspicious face or something because it's not uncommon for me to get stopped when I go through security at the airports (not interrogated or anything), but never anything like this. The guy stared for ten minutes at me and my passport (after he'd given back the other two) and asked a bunch of weird questions. The worst part is that when I get nervous about something like that I start to laugh--not haha laugh, more like snickering, so I seem even more suspicious. Anyway, in the end he let us through.
--Got to cross the blue Danube on a ferry! Warning: the fun of this is canceled out by the fact that you will spend your life savings to do it.
--Nearly flipped the car after going over some, for lack of better word, waves in the road at something like 120 km/h. We couldn't see them before we were right on top of them and you can imagine, backseat with no seat belt, went bouncing/flying all over the backseat, car starts fishtailing and somehow in the end we end up straight, still on the road, mostly in one piece. Something started dragging behind the front wheel though so our innovative general secretary pulled pliers and wire out of the trunk and rigged the whole thing back together.
--Somewhere along the way what was supposed to have been an eleven hour trip turned into twenty hours, and the engine also started overheating. Actually I'm not sure what was happening, at first they thought it was the radiator but it wasn't, and we had to stop every twenty minutes or so to add water. Think: lots of conversations in usually at least three languages at once. Communication and its various forms blow my mind. So cool.
--When we finally got to Albania we made a wrong turn and went north instead of south and finally stopped to ask for directions. We talked to some police and what I remember is the man pointing to a map, waving around saying 'you: here! Vlore: here! One four zero kilometer!'
--Lots of the same with the overheating on the way back. But we made it in once piece after lots of praying and lots of water.
--We dropped one of our people off in Bucuresti and after that picked up two hitchhikers hanging out near Pacii. Have never done that before and always wanted to. This one's worth its own post altogether.
--And last but not least. I drove between Bucuresti and Pitesti! It should be said that before then, I hadn't driven in more than a year (since I was last in the States). And that I'd only driven a stick once about eight years ago. So I knew in theory how to do it, sort of, but it wasn't reflex yet, still required lots of thinking. Also, I should say that we think it's legal that I drove. My license is still valid in the States and... anyway, we think it's legal. But I drove! Well! On a stick shift!
And hey, still alive.
Oh! And just for fun, nothing to do with driving but it happened over that weekend, I sat square in the middle of this, after one person tastes the raki/tuica pulled out of someone's bookbag:
"It's Albanian water! Do you want to taste it?"
"Is that like Turkish viagra, then?"
First dude starts hyperventilating.
Second dude continues, "Lokum, that's what they call it."
A lot of sputtering and laughing and shenanigans.
First dude says with a wink, "You know, it is like the Bible says: test everything."
Once again, with the assurance that this was a g-rated and Christian conference, still alive :)
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
a wild sloth appears!
The first time we came to Romania I learned something from one of the Americans on our team that is quite possibly the best and weirdest icebreaker you've ever seen. It's called slothing.
Participant one assumes sloth-role. Three fingers on each hand, a face of lazy bliss and really really slow movements. It works best if participant number two is both unwilling and has long hair/a hood, anything that participant one can attach himself to. The idea is to slowly grab the unsuspecting victim's hair (or whatever) and pretend to eat it (or something), get way too close and watch with glee as he or she reacts.
See exhibit A:
Sloth in his natural environment. The fingers aren't visible, but this is a most exceptional sloth-face. Note how oblivious the Englishman is to the fact that his English space bubble will soon be invaded. Perfect execution.
Nearly three years later, we discover, in the words of First Sloth, inception is real! I have no memory of this but I've been slothing. Photographic evidence:
Exhibit B is a poor example of sloth-face, but we see excellent sloth-hands. Later photographs reveal the distance between sloth and victim was in fact bridged.
So what about you guys? Do you sloth? Any good sloth stories/pictures?
Participant one assumes sloth-role. Three fingers on each hand, a face of lazy bliss and really really slow movements. It works best if participant number two is both unwilling and has long hair/a hood, anything that participant one can attach himself to. The idea is to slowly grab the unsuspecting victim's hair (or whatever) and pretend to eat it (or something), get way too close and watch with glee as he or she reacts.
See exhibit A:
Sloth in his natural environment. The fingers aren't visible, but this is a most exceptional sloth-face. Note how oblivious the Englishman is to the fact that his English space bubble will soon be invaded. Perfect execution.
Nearly three years later, we discover, in the words of First Sloth, inception is real! I have no memory of this but I've been slothing. Photographic evidence:
Exhibit B is a poor example of sloth-face, but we see excellent sloth-hands. Later photographs reveal the distance between sloth and victim was in fact bridged.
So what about you guys? Do you sloth? Any good sloth stories/pictures?
Sunday, January 29, 2012
discoveries
Just discovered the mattress on the floor I've been sleeping on the last three months is actually a box spring. This explains so much.
Thankfully I have graduated to a pull-out couch (more like what we think of as a futon). All about perspective.
Thankfully I have graduated to a pull-out couch (more like what we think of as a futon). All about perspective.
Friday, January 6, 2012
in the ongoing reports on horace
My poor three-legged dinosaur Horace (whose recent dismemberment I wrote about here) has been in the hospital for about five weeks now waiting for my friend to sew his leg back on. And I logged on to facebook tonight and saw that he has been kidnapped by the boys in our small group and is being held for a ransom of 250,000 Euros.
However I am obliged to agree with this comment:
"This dragon needs to learn how to breathe fire so all the bad guys won't be after him."
Hope he makes it out of these shenanigans alive! :)
However I am obliged to agree with this comment:
"This dragon needs to learn how to breathe fire so all the bad guys won't be after him."
Hope he makes it out of these shenanigans alive! :)
Thursday, December 22, 2011
you're welcome
We have neighbors who blast music in the mornings, often on repeat, and since I'm usually gone in the afternoon/evening, I get to freely partake in their musical adventures. Lucky me, right? Actually, the thing is, their choice of music is sometimes so bizarre--or, rather, unexpected--that it's mostly just a good source of equal parts laughter and bewilderment. Besides the manele, here's a random sampling from the last few weeks for your reading pleasure:
I Will Survive--Gloria Gaynor
War is Over--John Lennon and Yoko Ono
La Gota Fria--Carlos Vives
Danger Zone--(no idea who sings this, just know it from Top Gun)
I Believe I Can Fly--R Kelly
I Will Always Love You--Whitney Houston
I Have Nothing--Whitney Houston (they seem to have the soundtrack from The Bodyguard)
(and, I kid you not)
Every Breath You Take--Sting
(and my personal favorites from their playlist--if this sounds sarcastic, I promise I'm being completely sincere)
River of Dreams--Billy Joel
Stand By Me--Ben E. King (YES!!!!)
There are lots of others I recognize from really vague memories of the stuff my mom liked in the early 90s but wasn't able to look up in time. However there is one song that would make this list complete and that is Yakety Yak. Kind of awesome, no?
I Will Survive--Gloria Gaynor
War is Over--John Lennon and Yoko Ono
La Gota Fria--Carlos Vives
Danger Zone--(no idea who sings this, just know it from Top Gun)
I Believe I Can Fly--R Kelly
I Will Always Love You--Whitney Houston
I Have Nothing--Whitney Houston (they seem to have the soundtrack from The Bodyguard)
(and, I kid you not)
Every Breath You Take--Sting
(and my personal favorites from their playlist--if this sounds sarcastic, I promise I'm being completely sincere)
River of Dreams--Billy Joel
Stand By Me--Ben E. King (YES!!!!)
There are lots of others I recognize from really vague memories of the stuff my mom liked in the early 90s but wasn't able to look up in time. However there is one song that would make this list complete and that is Yakety Yak. Kind of awesome, no?
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
quite possibly the best thing i've read all week
"I love how people who are having babies describe it as 'expecting.' Gives an air of uncertainty.
'We're expecting a baby but it could be a velociraptor.'"
--source unknown (meaning it's probably a meme floating around the internet--anyway, awesome awesome awesome)
'We're expecting a baby but it could be a velociraptor.'"
--source unknown (meaning it's probably a meme floating around the internet--anyway, awesome awesome awesome)
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
a curious behavior in bucuresti
And by that I am referring to a certain inclination toward different degrees of nakedness. So far it seems to be mostly limited to the parks. The first thing I noticed was guys who would go find somewhere to pee (sorry!) in broad daylight. In both cases of course their backs were to me, but they were definitely close enough to me to have called over their shoulder. The second guy was the craziest though. I was walking down one of the parts of Herastrau that's alongside the road, and there in the middle of the street on the median with the (really skinny still very young) trees, his back to me but his other side most definitely facing the other half of traffic was a guy who apparently either couldn't hold it or...
Anyway, no surprise that people here would be more comfortable/open with this sort of thing, if I can generalize far enough to associate Spain with Romania. Two years of Spanish professors and a semester with one especially crazy one taught me that. And no worries, I come from the great, wide south where everything is bootleg and out in the open and unpredictable. It would seem I have this to thank for the ability with which ma descurc, as the Romanians would say. To manage, or maybe more loosely, to roll with it, "I got this."
So the eight naked kids playing in the fountain at Tineretului was mostly just amusing. And it seems it must be perfectly normal as no one seemed in the least bit concerned as they chased each other up the sidewalk naked as they came.
However there is another curiosity in this park. He's an old man who has a couple of friends, all of whom like to lay out in nothing but their underwear, clothes hung in the tree nearby. I've walked past three times now in the last few weeks and every time he is there, and the most recent time, let me tell you, the man was dark. A little observation reveals that he doesn't like to sit still too long. Every so often he gets up and does what can only be described as calisthenics. I'm telling you, this sort of thing (all of it, not just the old man or the nakedness, mostly how strange and interesting people are) will keep me people-watching as long as I'm alive.
Anyway, no surprise that people here would be more comfortable/open with this sort of thing, if I can generalize far enough to associate Spain with Romania. Two years of Spanish professors and a semester with one especially crazy one taught me that. And no worries, I come from the great, wide south where everything is bootleg and out in the open and unpredictable. It would seem I have this to thank for the ability with which ma descurc, as the Romanians would say. To manage, or maybe more loosely, to roll with it, "I got this."
So the eight naked kids playing in the fountain at Tineretului was mostly just amusing. And it seems it must be perfectly normal as no one seemed in the least bit concerned as they chased each other up the sidewalk naked as they came.
However there is another curiosity in this park. He's an old man who has a couple of friends, all of whom like to lay out in nothing but their underwear, clothes hung in the tree nearby. I've walked past three times now in the last few weeks and every time he is there, and the most recent time, let me tell you, the man was dark. A little observation reveals that he doesn't like to sit still too long. Every so often he gets up and does what can only be described as calisthenics. I'm telling you, this sort of thing (all of it, not just the old man or the nakedness, mostly how strange and interesting people are) will keep me people-watching as long as I'm alive.
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