Village Life part 4: June

This post should probably not be titled "village life".  I should call it something like "The Mundane Activities of Villa Ionescu".
How's that for a compelling intro?  Don't expect much from me today.

I would have thought that by now, nearing the end of the first week in June, we would have been sight-seeing in another country.  Or at least in the process of packing to go sight-seeing in another country.  However, we are in a bit of a holding pattern due to the visa issue: if we are to live as nomads for the next six months, we must relish the time left that we have to keep our clothes in drawers.  And we must be ever available lest the immigration or translation office calls requesting more declarations.
So here we are.
Fortunately there is plenty to keep us busy as the days grow warmer (and warmer and warmer) and the garden flourishes and we prepare for the influx of family coming from Peru/Austria.

Strawberry picking

Do I need to mention that these are natural and fresh?  

Oh, will it ever end...?

Walks to the river

And a swim

Some people decided that the frogs make too much noise at night so they have forced them to relocate by destroying their habitat. I, however, get no sympathy with the dog barking.

Nothing says summer like a bowl of cherries.

Each afternoon/evening we are treated to a sound/light show.  Its very cool until it knocks the power out while you were in the middle of writing in your blog...

We're replacing one of the fences and there's a crew here working on it daily: Foanză, who is not too shy to pose for a photograph and Cosmin, who is.
There is also Titel but if I photographed him every time he did something around our house, I would have nothing but pictures of Titel.

This past weekend Silviu and Pia went up north for Pia's 50th high school reunion.  While they were gone, Foanza and Cosmin made a surprise for them in the path surrounding the fountain.

I assure you that we do venture beyond the boarders of our village and our property lines (gradeniţă, grocery shopping, the meetings, etc) but lately most of our time is spent within the confines of our compound.  I have come to think of it as such since we appear to be intent on walling ourselves in with concrete fences and heavy metal gates.  

We're not security freaks, really.  Its just the Romanian way.  I like the privacy that the high walls afford; my one complaint is that they do not provide a sound barrier against the nocturnal barking of the village dogs.  But as I mentioned earlier, no one cares about my sleep deprivation.

Privacy, while important to me, does not appear to be any sort of motive for the locals.  The fences are mainly there to keep out the Gypsies. 

I realize I have not yet written about this famous/infamous group of Romanians.  The truth is, I'm not sure what to say.  I don't know much about their history or culture.  If I was considerate and industrious I would have spent some time researching this subject which would have enabled me to share some of my gleanings with you all.  In general I'm pretty considerate but apparently I don't have enough of this quality to propel me into industriousness.  So do your own research people (but by all means email me and let me know what you found out or better yet, post a comment for everyone else to read-they are starving for something educational here.)
So the following is entirely my own opinion and has no real basis in fact or any sort of anthropological research at all.  Prepare to be unenlightened.

It seems there are two groups of Gypsies: those who remain apart from the majority of Romanian society and those who have assimilated into the mainsteam.  I suppose you could rightfully argue that if they have assimilated, they are no longer Gypsies. Again, since I've not done enough research, I can't respond to that definitively.   

Those that remain apart are very distinct: they live in canvas tents or the skeletons of brick houses on the fringes of cities and villages (usually on some unclaimed pasture land).  The women dress in layers of long, full skirts decorated with copious amounts of beading and sequins.  The men sometimes wear the stereotypical vest and blousy shirt but not always.  You can usually identify them by their very dark, long straight hair and swarthy complexion.  And they have attitude.  Is it pride, arrogance, a defense mechanism from being rejected by the majority in their country?  I don't know.  I've witnessed some episodes of thievery but I would never claim, as some do, that they are the sole source of petty larceny in this country.  Is it more noble to commit a crime in secrecy under cover of night or to do so without apology in broad day light?  I'm not sure but they certainly offer no apology whatsoever no matter who might see them pilfering whatever they can carry.  It takes either nerve or extreme desperation and I think it must be a little of both in their case. (please don't misunderstand me, I am not condoning stealing no matter who does it).  

Unless they fit the obvious criteria as outlined above, its hard for an outsider like me to figure out who fits the definition of assimilated Gypsy.  I usually only become aware of this designation when I hear a certain person referred to in conversation as "oh yeah, that Gypsy kid/man/woman, etc."  I don't know what the intention is but it feels somewhat prejudical to me because its generally reserved for people who are poor and have dark hair.  And knowing how generally disliked Gypsies are in Romania, I don't use the term this way.

I have no photos of the unassimilated Gypsies. I'm sorry. 
The main reason is that they really do live quite apart from the rest of society.  Another is that if you try to take a photo, they will be sure to ask you for money.  Aggressively ask.  And ask is probably a nice way of putting it.  I know, because I made this mistake once.  

However, this attitude is not without its benefits: once I saw a group of Gypsy women walking in the middle of the road, refusing to step aside no matter what sort of vehicle they encountered.  You probably can't appreciate the glory of this act because I didn't preface my statement by telling you that many Romanians drive like idiots. Well, there it is: they drive like idiots.  I can say that because I have personally witnessed the idiocy so often and to such an extent that I tell you this as a fact; its not an opinion.  They race through our little village at breakneck speeds, tires squealing around the corners, blaring their horns at those of us unfortunate enough to be on the side of the road, trying to walk from one place to another.  They're idiots.  So when I saw these Gypsy women walking five abreast in the middle of the road, not moving aside no matter how loud the horns were honking, walking with that attitude, forcing the cars to slow down...well, I wanted to applaud them.  

But I didn't because I was afraid they would ask for money.