A Cure for Maxwell's S-P Sludge

Today has been kind of a weird day so far. I've been feeling my energy levels decreasing in increments as I've been up doing late nights, because it's usually the only time I can find to do homework and work on boards for Alex. I feel behind on both. I've also seen my attitude plummeting and my critical side coming out. I want to sincerely praise people in the group, but I'm just feeling beaten lately. Last night, we had our Sunday meeting and I just straight up told some of the girls to be ready to go to the hospital on time, because it's a problem and their hours are half their grade and I and some of the others are getting frustrated, and everybody looked at the floor. No discussion, no excuses, no defensiveness, no one chiming in to second the sentiment, just immediate cutoff. I was like, "Is there anything else?" and I looked at each person in the group, "Ok let's make some papanasi then."

Papanasi is fried cheese with flour and salt and a little bit of sugar. If you eat it with ice cream the sweet and the salty have this really nice contrast and it tastes like fried ice cream.

I slightly expected to get murdered in my sleep that night. I was going to inspire them and make them want to give a crap about what they were doing (assuming that that is the problem), but I could barely muster the happy face to tell them that this is not working. I feel kind of set apart from them. Maybe I'm doing that myself, but I have a hard time just talking with many of them. I'm stuck in me, because... because I kind of am. And I've been seeing things decline.

Today was the threshold. I woke up around 7:00 and heard my roommate faintly talking on the gtalk and it was a little bit like I was under water and everything was just sort of sliding off of me today and I was like just shutting down. I woke up again and looked at the clock on my phone. 10:30?! I got up and put some clothes on, didn't even grab my scrubs. Just walked to the orphanage. Isn't this ironic? The day after. Ha ha. I was kind of in a fog though.

Got to the orphanage expecting to work with Teo, but she was gone, so I stood there for a second and walked over to mickey mouse. If you've ever been on Codeine, I think it was like that, only a little heavy. I started playing with the first kid I could get my hands on (out of context this sounds pretty weird). She was a little girl that I don't really know who was very pale and possibly fetal alcohol syndrome, which gives younger children a look like they are always deeply concerned about something. Perhaps she was just deeply concerned. I then witnessed Miorcell grab onto Michelle M's hair and pull like crazy. Ouch! I moved up to help, but this worker (who is one of my favorites, she's tall and stern and yet very sweet with the children. She is also very kind to me.) got him off first. Then they pointed to Alex who I didn't realize was in the room. I just kind of held his hand for a minute to let him know I was his bro still and talked with one this worker, whose name I sadly can never remember. She was telling me that Dr. Ciobano's daughter was getting married and that's why Teo was gone. She also told me Miorcel has a family, who are Roma, but was found abandoned living like an animal; naked and roaming around alone, and I think she said something about a forest. Sometimes I'm glad I can't totally understand what is being said. I was pretty slow to understand what she was saying and seemed a bit aloof probably and she asked, "Hey, who am I talking with?" She then started asking me why I was so "slab"

slab

adj dim; faint; feeble; flabby; frail; languid; meager; mild; poorly; scanty; scrawny; slack; soft; spare; thin; weak

and not married and if I liked boys or girls, while looking at a girl in my group. I told her that I liked girls, not pausing my exit with Alex. "Wrong day lady," I thought to myself.

Me and Alex went to look at fish and then to the lightroom. I was slightly relieved that it was closed, because it is difficult to spend a short of amount of time in there with him and we only had 10 mins left. He directed with his eyes to the room where we change (upstairs now to the left of mickey mouse's hall). I was like, "Really? You want to go in there?" But it turned out pretty fun. There are numbers and letters on the walls in there and he had fun getting me to open different cubby's and wanted me to put on other people's shoes. We also played with light switches and I got him to do the counting thing a little more too. He's getting better I think. The girls came in and I took him back.

After they changed, I sat in there for a minute and phased out. Then I walked out and was greeted by Sera. He said a bunch of stuff I couldn't understand and I said Da. Then he in Romanian he said, "Hey we're boys man, don't something something..." And then I went and shook their hands. For some reason when I'm most vulnerable somebody with a challenging personality tends to find me. Like I said though, things were just kind of sliding off me in a fog.

I came home and checked some emails and read some good stuff on a blog, and I was remembering vaguely a general authority quote about self-pity and looking outside through service to others. I also in looking for this quote which is now only a vapor to me, found a new one that I like better.

You have your own wonderful, bright, happy, and private little world
within yourself. Or you have your own dark and dismal prison... Your responsibility is to see that it is a private little heaven, for
it can just as easily be a private little hell, where you retreat from
beauty and wonder into self hatred and disgust. And again, no one is allowed to enter it but you, so any housecleaning that needs to be done, any clutter, disillusionment, or discord, any black thoughts or hatreds, any self incrimination or self-pity has to be discarded by you alone!

-Beatrice M. Sparks as quoted by N. Eldon Tanner as quoted by me.

So I went to the hospital regenerated by the hope of a new perspective and it worked. I remembered being with my sister Steph when I was really stressed to get to the airport and I had become rather rancid to her and then I wanted to try something and so I said, "I'm just going to start the day over right now, OK?" and kind of ran my hand over my face like a drama student ending a scene or whatever they do and she started laughing and was like I can't believe that just happened, and we had an amazing time driving up to the airport.

I walked to the hospital with the girls who are usually late and nothing really bothered me. We were not enemies. We left a few minutes late but it was better. I got to know them better a little. I played with Florin without feeling taken advantage of, as he tends to milk you for every penny if he can. I'm frankly amazed at how he can come up with money and other objects of value within a half hour. I saw him with 5 lei and a crucifix night light after seriously 20 minutes. He knows his craft. He also knows that I will mess him up in a boxing match.

Marian and I played cards. And we played guns. And we laughed a lot. And we got everybody in the room laughing. I tried to get Florin to play cards with us, but he took one look at how young Marian was and took off. Marian Asked me why Florin left and I was like uh I dunno. There was a new kid next door as well and he was even younger than Marian, but I didn't have very much time. I tried to help him with a puzzle which is strangely pronounced exactly the same in Romanian as it is in English. I can't say the kid's name yet. But he's pretty cool. I think he has a wicked fever too.

So my day ended up transitioning very well. I thank the Lord and friends and family for so much support and love. And tomorrow comes with a new set of challenges. Sometimes I think Romania (on the program) is so much simpler than any way of living I could have at home. Sometimes the problems are more related to my ego or failure to adapt than real hardship. And then sometimes I have these challenges that I never would suppose, because I'm connected to people and ideas and children that I don't understand. I've been very used to being self involved and that leaves a strange taste for others. Writing allows me to turn that into a learning experience I guess.

Azi Grivie Manieos *ham ham*

Here's a picture of stuff me and Marian drew yesterday.



Well, I drew and he told me what to draw. er colored. He likes dogs. Dogs say Ham Ham (hum hum) in Romania. And the clown started out as a dog but I messed up on the ears so it ended being a clown. He was like what does a clown say and I was like uh... Ha Ha Ha? He has a rooster on his little shoes. Roosters say Cu Cu Ri Gu (Koo Koo Re Goo). I drew it on the back of my journal article about trying to find simple answers to complex questions in the study of development. The people in the room thought it was funny that I read a bunch of stuff in english that was gibberish to them. It's usually gibberish to me the first 2 times I read it as well.

I got to see Florin again. He sent me on a couple errands to get candy and soda, because he's not aloud to go outside when it's cold, because he doesn't have a jacket. He didn't like the candy I picked. So Marian and I ate it. He has spina bifida and a solid right hook.

This is Florin

He looks essentially the same now, but I don't have a new pic of him yet. Well he looks a little bigger. I was really happy to see him again. Joking around with him is a lot easier now. He's really cool; he goes and plays with the other Marian (who is from the orphanage) When no one else can.

Marian is really cute. I don't know much about his condition, but he's a little little dude and he knows 3 words: Acolo (there), Asa (there/ok/that/anything you want it to mean), and doi (two). Florin gave him a package of pretzels and marian got them all over his little crib/bed. He didn't eat any of them. I tried to tell him that they were food but he just wanted to throw them around and pretend to count them. Watching him pretend to count reminded me a lot of Minge Mihai from before. Hopefully I'll get to see Mihai while I'm here. I miss that kid.

I have a hard time going to the hospital sometimes as I see some of the kids corrupted by some of the rough language in there. The young mothers teach this little 3/5/6 year old I come play with bad words and think it's funny. I don't really know how to tell them to stop that other than to tell him not to say those things. I don't know most of the words, but every once in awhile I figure it out. Ergh. Maybe the Lord will bless me with the gift of tongues for two minutes to rebuke them like a rap battle.

Me and Alex have a fun game we play now and it's led to a kind of teaching opportunity. There's a bunch of foam puzzle pieces that are about 10"x10" with numbers on them that punch out. They fit together to make cubes. I build them into a tower about 7 layers high with the top and bottom open. Then I put the tower on his head. Then he likes me to throw all the punched out foam numbers into the top of the tower at once and let them fall on his head. Then we laugh. Yesterday I tried teaching him some numbers. One physical thing that he can do is kick hard. We found a sweet sound that happens when you scrape your sneaker across the footboard on his wheel chair. It makes a Reeenk! sort of sound. I had him make that scrape sound the number of times that each number was. At first he didn't get it, but he eventually did each one. I don't think he really knows his numbers, but I think this will help some. I need to figure out what they're working on with him in school so we can supplement that a little better. We also took pictures of all his clothes and the room for some boards. It was fun. I love working with Teo. She understands how important this is and is just as committed to Alex, if not more. Also I feel super l337 when I'm in the psychology office.

There's a girl in one of the apartments that was one of those kids that shocks you the first time you see them. Her face is significantly deformed in a way I've never seen before. She runs around like some of the kids from Mickey Mouse the first time I was there. Jumping around, hitting things, climbing and jumping off of things, hitting themselves, running up to be held, then hurting you, etc. I was a little put off by her and her face comes into my mind sometimes. Last night, Kinsey told me she found out that this girl's mother tried to have an abortion and she survived. The thought just sort of flattened me. I had to sit down for a minute. The feeling is like standing in front of a bunch of doors that you know lead to horrible torture chambers. And the thought paths are like those doors. You stand in front of them and know where they lead, but exploring them is something you just don't want to do. I'll probably visit again soon, because I like to make it to all the different rooms/apartments regularly. I also saw a potential communication aid project with her. She is cognitively normal, or so I've heard, but her mouth and palate are not usable for complex speech. The great thing is that like many of the other children I've met, I know whoever works with her will see the beauty inside her. Those rough shells tend to disappear pretty quickly.

Thrice Cold Cash and Colder Hearts [acoustic]

Homey take 6 and take this, Haters!

I don't have a lot to write. Life has been great here. Alex is not as good with this new technology as I thought he would be. It's probably a little more accurate than the bulky headpointer was though. If the Eagle Eyes guys can spend 10 years in a lab, I'm OK with a few false starts right? When he gets Eagle Eyes, things are going to change for him significantly, so I'm kind of just seeing this as a temporary preparatory period anyways. Once again, I am the Elias. Holler if you hear me. Soon one will come whose shoes latchet I could probably not even figure out how to unloose. And last time I was here, I guess I just led him down a fishy alley with a hopeful smile.

Sera, the physical therapist in essence, gave me the typical Italian phrase, "It is not possible." That was only mildly and temporarily disconcerting and just fueled my voracity, tweaking things for the next couple hours. I'm kind of better at the dream than the game plan, so it becomes a mysterious fumbling in the dark for awhile until I can get things going the right way. This stuff is kind of like the movie Armageddon. You spend time devising a plan that seems perfect. Land on the effin' asteroid and you realize that the ground is harder than you built your drills for and you have to improvise. Last time I only had 3 weeks. This time we play on my terms (or something equally dramatic).

This is another day, same post. Today Christmas came early and I purchased a better web cam. Sharper images and faster transfer speeds mean better and more accurate tracking. I tried it out. It worked amazing for me. Alex is going to need some strengthening, but the big buttons he can push easily. He can even play Simon with some help. It was a huge relief. I spoke with Teo afterward about how she thought things went. I was hoping she was more hopeful than Sera. She gave me an excited, "Of course! We start tomorrow on the boards." I walked home with a renewed energy and pwned a langosi. I started scheming about what might happen if we can't get the software.

A few highlights from the testing process: Teo and I watched him spell out Teo's name and cheered. It took awhile, but his happiness was so apparent when we were done, it was magical. Can't make this sound not sappy, but I'm so proud of him. He did the basic greetings and feelings with ease. He even got 3 or 4 simon sequences (color sound memory game) and we went crazy.

When I feel down out here I can always look back on hearing what Teo said right after returning to his room when we were finished, "He is SO happy right now!" That's mostly for me. Kinda like how I save voice mails and texts from my nieces and all the other people I love.

I love this kid!
More Agape coming your way.

A few more hours...

I felt pretty powerless today for about an hour that didn't seem like much of a story when I talked about it. The hospital again. I was returning from checking one of the floors with the Michelle's and Chelsea and a girl flagged me down and pulled me into a room with a baby and a mother with her child. One of the girls from our started asking me about how we know whether or not they are really children without moms and I started thinking about how to tell her how you don't really know, but you start to figure things out after awhile. Then there was confusion about where they should all go. And I said sure I can handle one child. I'll change her and feed her and be on my way. Then it was chaos. I put down the front of the crib to check if the baby was poopy and she wasn't, so I sat down and held her. One of the nurses came in and told me not to, because when I left she would cry like crazy. I put her down. She started crying. A nurse came in with a bottle. It was sucked down immediately. The bottles here have huge holes for fast delivery. If anybody doesn't know, this makes for some serious gas. So when she was done, I picked her up to burp her. When the nurse came in the next time, I asked her for a rag just in case the baby vomited. No dice. I was like that's BS I know you have a million rags but I just said yes boss. She also told me to put the baby down. The baby started crying. I tried the usual things you do to calm a baby down without picking them up to no avail. During this time a young mother kept talking to her child and then would randomly (to me anyway, because I didn't understand much of what she was saying) burst into tears. It had something to do with the milk. At the time I was slightly sympathetic, but couldn't do much about the situation. Then there was a fight that broke out in the room next to us, which lasted what seemed like a really long time. So I'm standing in this room trying to calm down this crying baby, in a room with a crying mom, who uses the gypsy street rhythm cry if you know what that is, while just outside the door there are nurses and people who can't understand the hospital rules screaming at each other. And I can't really explain the feeling. It's like being thrown under a shore break and just tumbling or trying not to fall asleep when you have to drive through the night, or trying to finish a paper the night before it's due.

And then I thought to myself, "I get to go home after this." Whatever this mother is going through is going to keep going. Whatever care those people in the hospital were going to have is not going to be possible, and this baby will probably keep crying after I absolutely need to leave. And she will learn things about life that may affect her for her entire life. It is a very different place that these people will go home to. I couldn't grasp the reality completely. I catastrophize and romanticize a lot of situations in the hospital. I choose not to see certain things that may be uncomfortable and I can assume a worse situation than is actually happening.

Every once in awhile I look at my shoes and realize my money didn't buy them. Some people get a sense of accomplishment from the opposite idea. I feel a somber gratitude sometimes with a tint of shame. Especially when I hear stories about people losing their jobs out here.

On the brighter side, I'm working on some more stuff with Alex. It's become my major focus besides helping the group out with things and wasting time on the internet and obsessively writing and checking e-mail. I'd like to get the kinks out before I get too in detail about things, but we're using computers and a web cam to help him communicate. It's really exciting. It's stuff that could not have been possible three years ago, the way things were. It makes a lot of my regrets lose their sting and I get to see Alex get excited about learning things. He's in school every day so I can only see him for a half hour at the end of the day, but I can work on things with Teo and there is a lot to do. I still get to go see the kids and watch how everyone is doing in the orphanage and apartments, but it's different now that I've found a bit of a Niche in this project. Every day there is something to look forward to. The sustainability is something I'm wondering about, but if I get to adopt him some day then that won't be a problem. Did I just say that out loud?

Anyway, my blood is 80% visine (pronounced vee she nay) cherry flavoring and I'm loving every minute of it. I love the youth programs here and we're making some friends at the hospital even and on the streets every now and then. It's way past my bed time. I've been obsessively looking for a way to get this software cheaper. Love you guys agape style for reading my gunoi.

Addendum

Today, the hospital got in. I think I didn't feel it, because I was so worried about showing everybody what they were supposed to do. We played hospital soccer with a kid who would never talk to me. Now we are bros thanks to everybody playing and having fun.

There was a child today who was in and out of a coma for 2 months. He had a huge dressed gash in his head and there was a line of something painful internally that extended to the middle of his abdomen. I gently changed the diaper with a nurse's help. The boy was going into convulsions in short intervals. I came back to grab rash cream from one of the girls in the hall. There were sores all over him. A woman helped me apply it. I realized a short time later that she was his mother by the delicate way she handled him and applied the cream and took his gas mask off, which was later confirmed by me asking her. When I was in the middle of this my mind was reminded of a story related to me from one of the girls here before about a professor whose class I would take the next semester. A short time after he and his wife were married, she was badly hurt on a beach and was in a coma for an extended period. My friend, who was a very close friend of their family, talked about how he would go to her room and talk to her, and turn her over to prevent her from getting bed sores, which I clearly saw on this boy. I don't think that it is a coincidence that this teacher assigned this article for one of our readings in that class. I read it last night again. Looking at this boy I felt a deep concern for him. His mother went through several orthodox rituals which seemed to her just as important as his oxygen if not more.

One of the major differences between my perception this year in the hospital versus last time is that I feel I've been stripped a bit of my insular tribalism. It will probably always remain to a certain degree, but I feel like I am able to trust the hospital a bit more for what it is and love the people here for who they are. I felt close to this mother through the menial care for her child. I saw the fierce/gentle love for him in her eyes as she attempted to soothe his panicked cries while he came to briefly. This is a part of love I have pitifully shied away from in the past. When I see things like this, I wonder if I have ever truly been able to love. This is what we try to emulate at the hospital, which would be an unrealistic expectation for anyone to do fully, and sometimes all we can do is give them a diaper. But we try to get closer each time.

Patru ani?

Alex smiling and laughing. I can't say too much about it. He's bigger. He should be; he's 10. Mexican hat dance: check. Pretend that the hallway is filled with ninjas and secret agents as we get out of the elevator: check. Armwrestling where we each win an equal number of times: check. Laughing cause my romanian sucks: check. Saying all the words he can pronounce together cause they're almost completely composed of vowells (Ohio, Iowa, Oaia, Buna, Leo, Lingura): check. Him getting all pouty cause I have to go do stuff with other kids: check. Building a huge clown block tower and then "accidentally" knocking it down and laughing hysterically: check.

Larisa is big. She is at a healthy weight. Her surgeries are complete. She can stand up. She can walk a little with assistance. There was a time when I thought that was probably never going to happen. She remembers many of the little things we used to do: oase (bones), bate palma, the cum face game. It is not like I imagined reuniting with these children would be. It is like going home for Christmas. I go back and have a sweet reunion and the same problems are there. But I love the problems. That is what is authentic in the experience. And God (not in vain) I sure love these kids.

Walking home from the hospital today, I started realizing how much I detach myself from the emotional aspect of the experience. I maintain my functional role and put on a happy face (cause I am), but the details of the experience are not affecting me much. I don't have time or emotional energy to contemplate each rain drop of depressing details. And why should I? If it keeps me from what I am here to do, what good is it to me? For instance, I'm walking from the hospital and we talk about how some of the children/babies struck us as heartwarming or cute and one girl says, "It's just so sad that they don't have mom's there." And I think to myself that I wasn't even considering that anymore. I just think, well let's go find those kids whose diapers no one is responsible to change and change them. Perhaps we will also get to play with them and make them laugh and feel a little more comfortable. I'm not thinking about what's not there that should be there. That's just territory like contemplating your own death or anticipating the end of a significant relationship. It's like peeking behind the scenes at Disneyland.

Some things I need to know though. One of the girls in my group I felt terrified for momentarily. As she finished changing a baby, a nurse came in and explained in romanian that the baby had syphilis. I had her quickly wash her hands with soap and clorox and soap and more clorox. A bit before that, she asked me, "what's syphilis?" My mind had a brief flashback to my sex ed ed class nearly a year ago, namely the pictures and symptom list. I had a quick daymare about her contracting this and not knowing until she came home.

The older kids are a little bit different. I was wondering why they wouldn't respond to us at first and then I was thinking what it would be like if I was in the hospital as a child and some Russian lady I didn't know just started asking me if I wanted a balloon or to color in a coloring book in broken english. I'd be like "Lady, who ARE you? I don't want to blow bubbles, I want my mom." I totally got this kid to play war with me though. He wouldn't even look at me at first. I finally know enough romanian to kind of warm up to these kids now I think whereas before it was an icebreaker for them just to know how silly we sounded trying to garble out a few phrases we could get out of the anxiety pinched hoses connected to our limited reservoir from half paid attention to language lessons.

Speaking of that, our group is learning the language really well. I love seeing them going for it and talking to people and practicing. I'm pretty sure many of them wonder if I know what I'm doing most of the time. Sometimes I see situations and remember where someone else had handled the situation appropriately in the past. And I envision the feeling associated with that, but can't put together the words I would need to convey that or even the attitude I need, because of my energy level or my attitude.

I'm gonna sleep now. More this weekend probably.

On the Eve of Construction

So Mario called tonight while we were at FHE and we're into the orphanage tomorrow. There were mixed reactions from the group, which was a little surprising, but understandable. I'm not sure how everyone is going to like it, but I myself am elated. I keep seeing Alex's explosive grin and joy noise when I think about going back. And how I'm just going to attack him when I get in there. And how I'm going to ask Larisa a bunch of silly questions and see the silly stuff she does. It's going to be crazy silly fresh. Plus there's all new orphans and stuff so word! I'm trying to find the opportune time to request to go see Mihai and some of my other kids. I don't know Teo (my ticket in) that well. In fact I think most of the Psychologists probably think I'm a little weird for trying to do certain things the other times I was here. But I'm wow really excited.

Brasov was fun... and getting there just about gave me PTSD. I missed the train from Bucuresti to Brasov, because it was time to board and three of the girls were not where the rest of the group thought they were going to be. So I told everyone to get on the train and if they were there to send one person back to the platform to get me. It seemed like a good plan in my head. I ran around to the entrance of the train station back to the platform and to the waiting area and McDonalds and then back to the platform. I looked at my clock. I asked one of the ticket checkers in front of the platform, "Trenul pleaca acum?" ("Does the train leave now?") and pointing to a swiftly moving train she answered with a tone of disbelief, pity, and matter of factness, "A plecat." (it left). So like the man who doesn't want to wake up from a pleasant dream I ran after the train. Somehow I forgot that I was not superman and when put into a " more poweful" competition with a locomotive I would go down like a forgetful skydiver.

So I called Mario, our cultural informant and she told me I needed to get a stamp to change my ticket. There's something you should know about the trainstation in Bucharest. It has probably 50 ticket booths spread out over 4 central locations. Something you should also know about Romania: If you don't know how to say exactly what you want, you will get an earful of impatient condescending instructions. I suppose this is what a Mexican immigrint goes through every day. I went to casa de bilete (house of tickets; sounds like a state fair attraction doesn't it?), a woman told me to go to the next booth, because she couldn't help me. My train left without me, can I get this changed? I said in my best Romanian. She said no, you have to go to the information desk. I went to the information booth in the middle of the train station. She told me to go to the ticket house. I went back to a lady right next to the one I was at. A guy came up to me in line and asked to see my ticket and said he could help me. Then he introduced me to his friend that said he could change my ticket for 20 RON or approximately 8 bucks. Not so fast Shmecher! I thought and told him to hold on a second, which really meant I hope I never see you again. I then saw that there was an information booth in the ticket house. They showed me on a calculator the number 1517. I didn't know what that meant so I talked to someone in the next section of ticket booths with the number 15 over it. He gave me some attitude and then told me to go to number 1,2,3,4, or 5. I was like WTF does that mean? So I walked a little bit further and stood in line for another ticket booth and then looked up and saw the numbers and finally found number 4. I waited in line. You know like when you're about to pee your pants and there's like 10 people waiting for the same toilet? Yeah that kind of feeling. But then I looked around and saw there was an older lady asking to go before, because her train left in 10 minutes and another younger lady who seemed to be equally desperate. So we let them go ahead. It's hard to see others when you feel like you're fighting to keep your head above water, but when I saw that alot of people were in the same boat as I was, my attitude seemed petty. When I finally got to the front of the line, I chose my words carefully. I explained my situation the best I could. Mind that at this point, I didn't know how much I was going to pay or if they could change my ticket, what type of train I would be on. They have trains that take 3 hours and some that take close to 10 or 12 to the same places. I also didn't know if I was going to have to spend the night in Buc., which I am not a fan of in general, because of its "I'm going to eat you alive" atmosphere. I was kind of desperate mentally at this point. She took my ticket, stamped it and gave me another ticket. She asked for patru si cinci zeci, and I thought she said patru zeci, or 40 lei, which I started to pull out. A couple people around me pointed that it was too much. As I handed her the money, I thanked everybody for being patient with me, because I realized that they were probably waiting with similar anxiety. A couple people to my right gave me some gentle reassurance. As I walked away I saw that my ticket was for 3:30 (2 hours from the time I got it) and that it was the second highest class of train, so I would only be there 3 hours after the group got there. I walked outside of the train station to wind down and was overcome with gratitude for a minute. It was like being untied. It was like finally collapsing with a smile.

Our time in Brasov was great. Brasov is beautiful. There were concerts every night that we could watch from the street and I got time to spend with different members of the group. It was really cool to meet people in the hostel too. It's always a party in the hostels. Some of the girls had a hard time with that. I think I disappointed some of them, because I can adopt the irreverence pretty quickly. Everyone's a free spirit in these places and it's pretty fun to get to know them. I met a dude from spain that's gonna let me come eat pig ears with him some day and a lady from Belgium and some girls from Australia who watched the Simply Red concert with us. And a computer programmer from Texas who will eat just about anything went with us on the castle tour and we talked about how if we lived there, we'd probably have sword fights every day.

I'm feeling more connected to the group. I think we are all very bright and capable and loving individuals. I worry about the group getting along sometimes, and wish I could do more to promote that. I also wish I could be more than I am sometimes. It's difficult fitting into my role sometimes. I'm not a natural leader, I suppose. I second guess myself. I don't know what to say sometimes. I remember our facilitator Rayna, and I looked up to her so much. She made me feel like I could do this thing when I felt like I had no clue what was going on and she didn't act like she knew everything, even though in many ways I felt like she did. I don't know a lot (sometimes I pretend I do), but I love the children here and the people in the branch and am beginning to know the people in the group.

I can't really express the anticipation connected to this next statement:

9 hours and I see my kids face to face.

Got me Feelin' it!

I'm just going to wander on this one. Today was a busy day. I met Mario at the travel agency this morning and we got some train info about Brasov. Then Ioana (her little girl who is trei si JUMATATE! [three and A HALF!!!!]) and I went and chased pigeons in front of Hotel Traian. I got to spend a little time talking with Mario, which I always enjoy. Some things I do and say I think make her think about having a heart attack though. Ioana is definitely the cutest girl I've ever seen chase pigeons. One of those small joys that makes you hope the world keeps going awhile longer.

We had a meeting and decided to go to Brasov. I went and bought tickets. Romanians appear very annoyed with me during business transactions. Like I know how to speak your language pretty good, but you can't use Romanian GRE words with me, because I'm just not gonna get it. It's definitely a challenge when I think I know what's going to be said and how I can respond and then they spout off something that resembles my idea of Romanian and I get all deer in the headlights for a second, at which point they begin the countdown to exasperation. I can see the moment the fuse is lit. I can do this though! I promise lady. You don't have to get mad, you just need to continue talking to me on a 5th grade level. I noticed this phenomenon while trying to mail a package at the post office as well, when I stared at a form that was explained to me, but contained several fields which were very foreign. The lady at the desk was very patient, especially for a postal worker. A young man had to help me as well. I got it (I'M expeditorul... ME!) and when I finished I felt a strong sense of accomplishment. For me it was a triumphant victory or at least a crucible. My colleagues in this epic struggle, the woman behind the desk waiting on my broken romanian and those behind me in line, were not aware of this Iwo-Jima esque finish line crossing and thus did not get down with the pathos. I looked around for approval and felt like someone who just spilled their guts at the wrong support group for a second. But looking for approval is like expecting a fly to leave you alone, because you asked nicely. I thanked her profusely.

We bought Rhett a monitor. It's prefect for movies. His laptop busted. It was sad. Now it's not. It was heavy- the monitor.

I got a nice surprise at Gmart today. I was looking for folders and "Caught Up" by Usher came on. I just started laughing and grinning. Claudiu and I would sing that song almost every day when I was here the first time. He would ask me what different stuff that didn't translate very well meant like, "Her body was so tight, I'm looking for her in the daytime with a flashlight." or "My homies say this girl is crampin' my style." I could just see him going "NOW LISTEN!" and we would just bust up laughing. Like an intravenous shot of nostalgia. I didn't care about looking like a loud or silly american at that point. Tried to explain how happy I was to Kinsey and Rhett, my fellow shoppers, but what do you say? It was beautiful, because a thousand other tracers came with that one. Like when you get a hit on battleship and you've got an instant of vistas opening up to you. Like Chula Vistas and stuff.

Tonight we watched that thing you do. I forgot how good it was. I love the part at the end where things break down and everything that was such a big deal starts to go out the window and it goes down to just Guy in that recording studio. And it isn't that big of a deal, because he gets to just do what he loves: play. And the scene in the bar where he's talking to his idol who says something like "groups come and go, but you keep playing." And I guess groups come and go, but I keep playing with orphans. A stretch I know.

Gotta wake in 3 hours?

So like uhhh....

So it's like day 7. I got an email from my dad. Apparently I forgot to tell him, or anyone in my family for that matter, that I made it here safely. So I'm thinking... that's probably a good idea.

With this internet thing, I think it's pretty hard for your family and friends to even try to miss you. But that's probably a good thing.

This morning I woke up around 8:00 and kicked in bed and read for awhile. I knocked on Chelsea and Michelle's door a couple times after a decent hour to no avail. They have seriously been sleeping since they got here. I think I saw them for about 20 minutes to explain how to lock their doors and windows and tell them what time church is (which they slept through). That's good enough for me though, because it's more time to go nuts in Iasi, like buying toilet paper and eating donuts and riding the tramvai aimlessly and seeing a guy passout and hit his head in between Hala and Tg. Cucu.

Yeah that was the most dramatic thing that happened today. Well to be honest, I only saw the aftermath of the incident, which was a bunch of people slightly panicked trying to wake the man up and get help. I had no idea what actually happened to him. It was like that music video for "Just" by radiohead. Actually, how bout I post that?



So yeah except he wasn't conscious and he didn't have a deep dark secret that made everyone else want to lie down. It was kind of interesting to be there, because I didn't know exactly what happened, but I knew that several people were trying to help him. There was a large man with sunglasses who became the leader. When I first came upon the scene, I thought they may have been in a fight, because he was yelling loudly and people started circling around them. Several people were trying to gently put water on him (the man on the ground) and a young man came back with ice. I realized then, that the man yelling was making phone calls to an ambulance? I heard the words salvatorii several times. I stayed and watched as they brought who appeared to be the man's wife over. Her hands began shaking as she saw him and there was a suppressed emotion as her mind must have been working trying to process the information, while trying to remain calm. She visibly and audibly took a swallow. Her friends and probably several strangers began to offer their reassurances. It became real then.

They eventually helped him regain consciousness. I heard the word "cald" meaning warm several times, and part of me thought they may have been talking about heat exhaustion or something of the like, but it was 70 degrees at the most outside and he was in the shade. Perhaps they were trying to keep him warm to prevent shock, or maybe I just heard them wrong. In reality it probably doesn't matter what actually happened. Several men helped him walk over to a park bench. This broke a couple rules I remember from boy scouts, but I was the outsider today.

Though I am not completely heartless, I also see when there is nothing I can do in a situation, so I went on my way to buy a donut. Within a few minutes, I returned and the bench was replaced by a couple of the people who were around before. This event got me outside of myself for awhile, though it was through observation and not service.

Sunday was great and in some ways bitter. When I got to church, I got to see some people that I absolutely love. President Popovici, Sora Maria, Sora Podaru (Mihai's mom), Petru. They were only slightly older. I was very happy to see them and I got a great round of hugs and Pup's. It was a little difficult to explain that I wasn't with Dorothy and that she was in fact married. This point is benign to me now. I'm healed and essentially clean from the situation. Ea este casatorita cu o sot foarte minunat, si ei sunt foarte fericiti. Sunt singur dar fericit. N-am o prietena si sunt liber. E bine ca e simplu. Si sunt speriat. Dar e greu sa almintesc timpul cand am fost aici deja pentru ca am fost in dragostea. Nu sunt trist ca am lasat sora hatch nici acum, dar sunt putin emotionat pentru ca pot sa almintesc sentimentul. It feels so good in my hood tonight. The summertime skirts and the guys in kani. All the gang bangers forgot about the drive by.

They still have pictures from my group that Rayna gave to pres. Popovici. Some of us playing games and stuff. It was funny to see. I couldn't quite put my finger on the feeling. While I was sorting this out, I started talking to Petru. I asked him how he is doing and he said something like, I am doing better. Almost to reassure himself. When I hear him speak there is often an air of quiet vulnerability to him. Someone who expects to be hurt almost. I don't know maybe I'm reading too much in the wrong direction with that one.

As if to reward my getting out of myself to listen to someone else, Mihai's mom came over and gave me a big hug and excitedly asked me if I would come over for dinner. I gave an emphatic affirmative and after a slightly understandable elder's quorum lesson we went over. I tried to pay for the taxi and she scolded me. Her husband was recently home from Iraq. He is a character. He knows a little english and he's always messing with somebody. It was good to see Monica again too. She had recently returned from a 2 week party on the seaside and was notably lethargic. She's going to college this semester for bioengineering. Little Monica. The meal was fantastic. Chicken soup, chicken, apa minerala, hot chocolate... I stayed for several hours hoping that the two girls back home would not call in WTF mode. We all watched a movie on TV and joked around and Sora Podaru showed me pictures of Mihai on his mission and from various times with BYU groups. That was a trip. After awhile I figured it was time I should go and Monica called me a taxi. I really needed that visit. It totally changed how I felt about things. I was starting to wonder if I had ever really connected with people in Iasi, or if it was just the nostalgia of a hopeful tourist. I got home and the girls were still asleep.

Today I showed them around a few places in town.

Ok pretend I just started another entry, because it's now almost a day after starting this thing.

Since I had two girls following my every step, I figured I'd give them a challenge, and we walked up to dacia. Just across the bridge there's a church and we stood through about 45 minutes of a service. One of those spontaneous cultural proof things. A priest tried to annoint me, and I explained that we were visitors and sinners (protestants) so that he wouldn't be offended if we didn't cross ourselves. Maybe someday I will go through the whole service. There is a sort of dilemma in these services where you must decide to what extent you will take part in it. I noticed something that warmed my heart. An old woman was sitting in one of the last available seats and another old woman with a broken hand walked past her. The first woman offered this woman her seat. I don't know why it affected me, but it was one of those things that hits you. After this a small boy came and sat on the broken armed woman's lap. I'm starting to think losing my camera was a good thing, because I am less of a skull with the rolling eye. I don't need to collect, it makes it easier to be inside of everything.

There's a hill by one of the later Dacia tram stops that overlooks a wide field surrounded by water, where I think some gypsies live. I got nostalgic for a minute and watched the evening sun peek over the hills. I never really noticed how beautiful that area is. In the middle of Dacia, which can seem rather bleak. I think I just never realized it, because I was always trying to make sure one of the kids didn't start trying to eat a glass bottle or try to go swimming in sludge. We brought the kids from the 7th floor apartment down here. Good times.

Ok I need to sleep. FHE was fun. I'm going to have to pick the events I flesh out wisely. Thanks for reading.