I begin with Romania. It’s difficult for me to convey a sense of my impression of this beautiful country, but let me try. This is an excerpt from my journal, penned as I rode the bus (shared with many sleepy, unsmiling Romanians and two very loud, very much not-sleepy parakeets) through eight thought-provoking hours of Romanian countryside between Iasi and Bucharest:
“Today, I leave Romania, filled with an odd combination of longing, sorrow, great joy, and mystified curiosity. Words fail me as I attempt to capture the overwhelming sense of richness comingled with abject poverty which permeates every corner of this land. This is a nation of extremes, of strange contradictions which are somehow correlated and even complimentary to each other.
It is a country which is developing, and yet underdeveloped. It is progressive, and yet backwards. There is much here for which to give thanks, and yet I seldom see a smiling face upon the streets of her cities. There is much freedom, and yet also much oppression. There is mirth here, but little true joy. There is godliness, but I think that often, it is crippled by legalism and unsound doctrine within the church.
This is a country where old men ride their bicycles on the highway alongside semi-trailers moving at 110 kilometers per hour...where the dead horse of some unlucky peasant lies in the ditch alongside the road which carries Smart cars to and fro. This is a nation where abject poverty and luxurious lifestyles are juxtaposed on the same street, side by side...
...where traffic is hopelessly disorganized, and parking is an abominable jungle of hapless chaos, but where transportation is never THAT much of a problem, because there’s always something that can get you from point A to point B, even if it’s just somebody’s donkey.
This is a country where it takes 3 hours to eat in a restaurant because the service is so slow...and yet somehow, it’s all good, because it forces you to appreciate and enjoy those you’re sharing your meal with that day.
Romania is full of deeply religious people—who live in darkness and misery. It is full of brilliant, educated people who think that knowledge itself is the end rather than a means to an end. It is filled with backwards theories that have long gone unchallenged...but its people are striving to carve a living for themselves out of a harsh reality, dying to be loved in a post-Communist culture which, until recently, sought to destroy natural human affection.
The scars of Communism run deep in Romania. They have come far, but they have a much greater distance to bridge than that which has been crossed already. May God be merciful as they continue this process."
One of the highlights of this sojourn across the pond was the opportunity to spend two beautiful weeks in fellowshipping with my incredible, talented, sweet, Godly, lovely (and very much loved) younger sister, Michelle.
She not only rescued me every time I got lost in Iasi, she also graciously let me camp out in her room, introduced me to her friends, accompanied me everywhere, shooed away rabid dogs, and fended off creepy Romanian dweebs, as the need arose.
(You didn't believe me about the dweebs part, did you? Heh.)
Some of my most meaningful memories, though, were the incredibly special hours that we spent praying together, studying the Word, and speaking an unintelligible language which I can only refer to as Sister. I adore this woman, and consider myself immeasurably blessed to have her as my sister. Woohoo!
I had a blast traipsing around Iasi, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells (wonderful and otherwise) of this fascinating city.
We spent two days apartment hunting, accompanied by a very exuberant ReMax agent who told us very frankly that his English “was broke!” which is presumably why he chose to converse with us primarily in Romanian. For some odd reason, he would always look at me when he spoke, despite the fact that we’d told him several times that I don’t speak Romanian, and I—not comprehending a word—would simply nod, and say, “Da, da, da!” understandingly...until there was a lull in the conversation long enough for me to lean over to Michelle and hiss, “What on earth did he just say?!”
We had a great deal of fun clowning around for the camera with the cute Kosobucki gals—miss them all!
This last one was simply to prove that Lydia doesn't ALWAYS manage to look angelic, although she manages to do so at least 95% of the time...
Had a blast at the bridal shower for a lovely Romanian bride-to-be! We discovered that our dressmaking skills are in need of slight refining, so it’s fortunate for her (the poor dear on the right) that we’re not the ones responsible for putting together her bridal gown, as both suggested styles were slightly more suggestive of a car accident than a wedding?
...saw lots of beautiful volumes which are peddled like this on the streets here—but was unable to make much out of the Romanian, sadly.
This was the amphitheater, just down the road from our house...it stood above a truly lovely garden, which was just above a quaint little house, which once belonged to a famous Romanian poet. There was a not-quite-so-charming outhouse in the back.
We spent several lazy afternoons in the parks, where children (wearing hats to guard against we’re-not-exactly-sure-what deadly illnesses) come with their parents or grandparents to feed the pigeons...or stomp on the pigeons, depending on the kid.
...there is so much more that I could say, but it would be unfair to keep you here forever, and thus, I conclude. I would hope that this has been a glimpse—enough perhaps to give you a sense, and new respect for, and a deeper appreciation for the beauty and the struggle of the country that we call Romania...
