Village LIfe part 10: The return of the Italians

"You can't go home again"
So said Thomas Wolfe

I'm wondering if this is true for folks who have two homes; one on one continent, one on another. Does the rule still apply? Is it less true the more homes you have or does it, in fact, become more true? Is it division or multiplication? Addition or subtraction? Where does the quadratic equation come in to play?

I realize this a supposed to be a travel blog where we discuss fun and exciting things which means I should not get math involved. Getting math involved is like starting a wedding speech discussing the results of your colonoscopy. Sure it's a necessary procedure but no one wants to hear about it and you force everyone to think about the details of their own most recent bowel movement and that just brings everyone down when they should be thinking about how many slices of cake they'll get and if the DJ will play their favorite hits from the 80's.

Frankly, I'm already down, which has nothing to do with the state of my GI tract and everything to do with being a bit travel-weary and probably even more to do with becoming emotionally overwrought at the thought of having to leave Romania so soon after we've arrived.

Not that Italy wasn't wonderful, not that I want to sound ungrateful for having been given the opportunity to spend three weeks galavanting around Europe. No. But we've had so little time at home. And by home I mean that place where you can lay on the couch eating popcorn, using your pajamas as a napkin while you watch mindless TV.  Home is where your hand knows where all of the light switches are without having to think twice, where you can make it to the toilet at 3 a.m, half asleep, and not wake up in the morning to discover you actually urinated in the closet.

I like being home, whether it's Santa Cruz home or Obedin home. Being home is pretty much my favorite thing.

So I suppose I'm down because during this trip we didn't stay in our Obedin home for very long. Instead we spent most of our time overeating in Italy.

We managed to be here long enough to do the necessary things like pay our taxes and get the boys' passports renewed. But there are other important things that make a trip home feel like a trip home: freeze a bottle of Fanta and make Fanta slushies, go to the school and play on the playground, watch an episode of Romania Au Talent, have a BBQ with Maru, be spoken to in Italian.*

Mihai and I unfortunately (but rather unsurprisingly given the lack of sleep we were getting) came down with a flu/cold and were unable to do our traditional 2-3 hour winter hike up the hill. We had to be satisfied with a sneeze-filled stroll down to the end of the village and back. So that's another thing I missed out on and am lamenting.

However, as we went about on our mucus-filled stroll, there was comfort in seeing that things haven't changed much. Yes, you still need to make sure your tetanus shots are current before you go down the slide in the schoolyard. Yes, drivers still use our little road like the Daytona Grand Prix.

So in that respect, Tomas Wolfe is wrong. You can go home again but you've just got to give yourself sufficient time in order to absorb the experience.

Unrelated to emotional angst, another problem with cutting things short is that when you go home and only leave yourself a few days for picture taking, you run the risk of having nothing but a string of overcast skies as your backdrop. This does not make for very appealing photos. But not every photo from a wedding is frame-worthy, right? Yet you keep them all because in each of them there is some moment caught, a memory that is evoked and for me, when I'm back in the States and looking at these images, it will remind me what it feels like to be home again.

Maru and his children

Foanta. We came across him repairing a neighbor's wall. Working as always.

Christy's grandmother

Irina, our faithful hiking companion. Growing up to be a stunning young woman.

Gigil, Nicolina, Alex (the other two you know)

The high schoolers (formerly known as the kids from the gradinita)

Bar-b-que and loafing on a Sunday.

Last but not least: Silvia.
Yes I know that after waiting so long I should have given you something other than a distant side shot but you know how I have no skill at photographing people. Must be an Italian thing.

*It has been brought to my attention by new readers that this Italian business appears to make little sense. I would refer you to this post: Village Life Part 2: Natural from 2011 April for an explanation.

http://zikebikediaries.blogspot.com/2011/04/village-life-part-2.html