Site Visit

The moment that I laid eyes upon the place that I will call home for the next two years, I was reminded of a conversation that I had on a date that I went on months earlier. I had told said boy about the Peace Corps and the very real possibility that I would soon be in Eastern Europe for two years. His response was something like, “Wow, Eastern Europe, that is great, while most people in Peace Corps go to rural parts of Africa you will partying for the next two years.” Now, months later, I was finally seeing the reality of my future Peace Corps experience. As I peered out the window of the maxi-taxi at the small Transylvanian town that will be my home for the next two years, I couldn’t help but laugh to myself. Oh, how wrong he was! He was right about one thing, the most important thing, which is that it is great, however this will not be the party experience that we speculated about that night. In contrast to the disco lined streets filled with high heel bearing women that occupied my imagination long ago, the reality that lays ahead is that of a small traditional town with a single paved road, surrounded by rolling green hills, and dotted with hay stacks. I had the opportunity to party in college, but this kind of rural country experience that is sure to be something truly unique.

Seconds later, Raluca, my counterpart, interrupted my silent dialogue, asking the maxi-taxi to stop. Oh my goodness, I am finally here! We got out right in front of my soon to be home, the mayor’s house. We were immediately greeted by the mayors wife, Elena, and Mrs.Marza, the vice principal of the school where I will be teaching. I introduced myself in Romanian. They were surprised, “Vorbeste Romaneste!?!?!?!?!?!” (she speaks Romanian!?!?!?!). I got used to this reaction after my three days at site, as it isn’t common for foreigners to speak any Romanian. I was happy to surprise everyone, but it was bit intimidating to listen to people talking about me, rather than to me.

After some coffee, a tour of the town, and a tour of the school, Raluca went to her house for a nap. She had lost three nights of sleep thanks to two weddings at her hotel during the conference, and our one night in a sleeper train. To top it all off she had presented her master’s thesis an hour and a half after we got off the train the day prior, so she was understandably tired. I went back to my place and tried to sleep, I don’t think I rested long before I awoke in a panic: “Oh my god, nobody will look at me, this is terrifying!” My first thought was to just stay in the safety of my cute apartment forever. That thought lasted for about two seconds and then my training from the last nine weeks kicked in.

One of the good things about the monotony of pre-service training is that when you hear things over and over again it is difficult to forget them, even when you aren’t thinking clearly. Mantras such as “go outside and take a walk because exercise can work wonders, your site is what you make of it, and you are responsible for the relationships that you will have in your community” were playing over and over in my head. So it was decided, first things first, I will force myself out the door and take a walk. I know this sounds a little ridiculous since there are only 3,000 people in my town, and one main road, but just putting my foot out the door was a bit of a battle. Once out the door things seemed a bit more manageable. I walked around for about 30 minutes and returned back to my apartment with a clear head, ready for the next step of integration. I figured the only way to get people used to me was to be seen, so I took my book out into the garden and read at a table. I sat there for about 10 minutes until my 10-year-old neighbor, who had been peeking out at me from behind the door all day, finally came and sat down across from me. A friend! I jumped on this opportunity somewhat over anxiously. I figured that since she was ten she wouldn’t be put off by a little social awkwardness. “I have a small present for you”, I said in Romanian. I ran upstairs and grabbed some American flag stickers and my deck of cards. We played war, then she taught me a Romanian card game and I taught her “Speed”, which I renamed “Repede,” the Romanian word for fast.

By the time I met up with Raluca at 6 pm that night I had fully recovered from my mild freak-out and was ready for whatever lay ahead. Thankfully, that which lay ahead was cheese pie at the vice-principals house (my favorite) and some Twika, Palinka, or Horinka. I’m not sure which I had, as they are all variations of Romanian liquor. It is most commonly made out of plumes and usually home made, like nearly everything in the Romanian countryside. The thing that differentiates the three is how many times they are distilled. My host father described their differences a bit more colorfully: “Twika is strong, Palinka is much stronger, it has bubbles and is bluish in clolor, and Horinka, well Horinka starts fires.” My theory is that they further North you go in Romania, the colder it is, so the stronger the alcohol has to be. My theory holds up in Maramures county, (the far North West), where I will be living. Here, the most common form of this traditional liquor is the potent Horinka.

From this point on out I was at home. I met a lot of great people including future students, I went swimming at one of the pensiones in town, I made plans to partake in many cultural happenings come August (milking cows, going to church, cutting grass with a scythe, dressing in the national costume, hiking), and I even got a ride on both a cart with bulls and a caruta (horse drawn cart) thanks to my precautious 10 year old neighbor.

Come Friday morning, I was sad to leave. Now, however, I am torn, knowing that in order to start the next great thing, I have to leave the town that has become home and the people who have become family. So for the moment I am enjoying the present and hoping that when the time comes I will some how figure out how to fit all of my new Peace Corps paraphernalia into my bags, so that I can make the 18-hour journey to site. More on that later, I’m sure…