Leaving school one day, I found myself walking behind a little old lady on the narrow sidewalk. Moving around her, I took a look back; I can’t get her face out my mind. She was, it appeared, an old Romanian peasant. Her clothes covered up her entire body, she wore a shawl, full length apron, and was ambling along slowly hunched over a rough cane. Though there are doubtless thousands of women who look like her here in this country, the fact that she happened to be directly outside of the school where I teach really hit home.

The city where I work is a beautiful and well-kept Transylvanian town. Due to the large Hungarian influence in this region, the buildings in the center, where my school is located, take on a grand style. Contrast this to many other parts of the country which are either very rural, or developed in the Communist style.

This old woman probably lived in one of the houses in the center that had miraculously survived systemization. Indeed, it is an odd sight to see, on the same street, a grand 19th century house complete with façade, a concrete apartment block and a little ramshackle peasant’s house. We don’t really have this in the United States, at least not within such concentrated areas. It reminds me of the history of this place, just how far things go back, and that life here has been and is very different. Who knows if I’ll see that old lady again, but perhaps I’ll slow down a bit and see what else awaits.