So, I’m officially a volunteer, again… Yesterday was the big swearing in ceremony in Brasov. I was particularly touched when both the CD and PTO mentioned we four Uzbek transfers during their speeches. Afterwords I took my gazda out for a drink, and then continued drinking with my friends… I had my first Long Island iced tea for a very long time, and then we headed to a Mexican (or at least as Mexican as you get in Romania,) restaurant where I had the very Mexican dish of pineapple chicken with mashed potatoes. We split a bottle of wine between the few of us, and then afterwords headed to another bar for digestives. I had my first grasshopper, again, in a very long time. After that we went to a bigger place where most of the group had gathered to celebrate. Considering that fact that this group is pretty sectarian, it was good to see everyone enjoying themselves. I paid like $4 for a Mohito, which was absolutely delicious. As we were trying to flag a cab to get home, a cop decided to be a jerk, so there was a little altercation which included, at one point, me screaming that he was a fascist communist pig. But we made it home, and this morning my friend and I made scrambled eggs; it was the best we could do considering that there aren’t really diners/pancake houses in this town. Come to think of it, they don’t even really have pancakes in Romania, though they do have almost everything else.

Funerals: I haven’t really been to one, but in Romania, no problem, because they come to you! The town I’m living in is kinda a mix between modern and provincial. When there is a funeral here, there is a big procession through the streets. At the front are people walking with some holding a large wooden cross with something draped over it. Then there is a band, mostly guys with big old tubas and horns, which plays a rather morose marching melody. Then comes the dead guy. He rides in a box with a plastic or canvass top, face showing, on the back of a flatbed truck, surrounded by flowers. As the procession moves down the street, people come out from the houses along the road, mostly standing by the gate or leaning out the window, and pay their respects by watching for a few minutes. It’s really surreal, especially how you hear the music before you even see the front of the procession, so you know it’s coming…

About nine in the evening last week I was walking back to my house from the bar/internet cafe (one place.) Behind me I could hear the clop clop clop of a horse trotting down the road. As it got nearer I could also hear the jingle jingle of the bells hanging from its blinders. It was pulling a wooden cart, which is common here, that was piled high with hay fresh from the field. A few young teenage boys were sitting atop the hay, talking and smoking a little. As the cart passed I got a deep smell of the hay which was absolutely beautiful and I stopped to watch the cart and the hay and the boys move down the street.