Departure

This is harder than I expected.  And I expected it to be hard.

I don't mean the packing and the traveling, although that's a nightmare, no doubt about it.

And I don't mean just saying good-bye to all of the things that I love here: the clippity clop of horses' hooves as the wagons go by in the morning.  The soft, melodious clang of the cow bells as they are brought in from the fields in the evening.  Fresh picked cherries in the summer.

I mean leaving people.  Because it always comes down to the people.

I mean that moment when you are hanging out, Skyping with the half of your family in the States and it strikes you that the next time you all Skype, you will not be in the same room but on the other side of the camera.
On the other side of the world.
The rich tones of the voices in the room with you will be replaced by tinny sounds as their words are transferred across the thousands of miles.
Instead of reaching out to put an arm around their shoulders, you will hold up a hand and place it against the screen and have only the memory of the warmth of their touch.

Remembering the surge of joy when you embraced at the train station upon your arrival.
"A whole year."
"Yes."
The world seemed bright with possibilities.

Now the moment of separation hangs in the air like a malevolent specter.  It's coming, that agonizing point when you must look each other in the eye and say your parting words which will seem weak and ineffectual, unable to express all that is in your heart.  The last, tight squeeze and whispered "good-bye", full of a particular brand of desperate sorrow.
The chimerical notion that people so dear will soon be so far away.
The continent of Europe, the breadth of the Atlantic Ocean and the swath of North America.  All of that will lay between you.
Distanta este mare.

Heart break.  Pure and simple.

Vaideeni in June

To celebrate the successful completion of the "Visa Extension Process" (the end result of which actually turns out to be a five-year Temporary Residency Card), we decided to take a trip to see Vali and Simona in Vaideeni. (see description on "Meet the Ionescus" page). We originally planned on a quick day trip just to hang out, bbq and, if we ended up having a beer or four, maybe stay overnight (we threw in one extra pair of underwear for each of us just in case).  Upon our arrival, the activities commenced as follows: talk, drink, cook, eat, nap, walk and repeat and it was so enjoyable we stretched it out for three days at the insistence of our hosts.  (Really, they did insist).  All too soon we had to pack up and return; we to the heat, humidity and house improvement project of Obedin and they to the heat, humidity and noise of Bucharest.
I think my great love for the owners of this house has something to do with why I personally find it so enchanting but after my diatribe regarding the driving situation, I thought a post containing nothing more than lovely photos (many lovely photos) would be in order.

Small Excursions

Its true that we have been spending a lot of time traveling to other European countries, working on the house-improvement projects and trying to get this visa extension thing figured out but that doesn't mean we haven't had time to see some sights a little farther away than our backyard but a little closer than Vienna.
Here is a sample of our day/weekend trips thus far:

First we had to go northwest to the mountain village of Vaideeni to visit our beloved friends Vali and Simona - brother and sister-in-law of Marius and Monica (I'm thinking of doing a family tree or some sort of schematic to help you all keep everyone straight).

Then we took a little day trip south to Simona's parents house in Măceşu.  Most of the interesting photos from that trip have already shown up in the "Primavara" post but here are a couple that didn't make it in.

I love inginuity

Simona's dad and the cat that reminded the boys of our cats in Santa Cruz

Then we went north to Braşov for the special assembly day.  5 hours there, 5 hours back on winding, mountain roads and I was so carsick I couldn't take a single photo until I had been out of the car for a good 2 hours or more. Sorry about that.  But let me just say that it was a gorgeous, warm, sunny morning and everyone was walking around in their shirtsleeves in the open-air stadium
Because there was a special speaker, the place was packed so we could only find seats on the ground at the back of the stadium, up against some plastic sheeting that served as the back wall.  It wasn't a bad spot, really, except for the bits of chipped cement that were digging into our buttocks and thighs but a few adjustments with a strategically placed magazine or two and we were surprisingly cozy.  The important thing was that we were there.
Since we were at the back on the side nearest the street, the traffic was a bit loud at times particularly as the stadium is next to the fire station.  Sitting through one emergency after another, I began to get a feel for what it must be like to have Meniere's Disease-a condition in which you can hear nothing but a constant, high pitched noise.  For those of you who think this sounds like a pretty fun pathology to have, let me tell you its not.
But it was all good and the important thing was that we were there.
In the afternoon it started to look like rain and then lo and behold it did, in fact, begin to rain.  But we had no worries because Mihai had the foresight to bring an umbrella and I had a hood on my jacket and where we were, up against the plastic sheeting, we could curl up into little balls and be pretty well set.
Because the important thing was that we were there.
Then the rain got heavier and what I mean by heavier is that it became a downpour and by downpour I mean that my notebook became so wet that the pen tip pushed right through the paper and the ink ran in little rivers over my hands.  But since my hands were so cold that I couldn't hold the pen properly, it didn't matter much anyway.  But we were there, and that was what mattered.
Then then wind began to blow but we were fortunate to be sitting with our backs against the plastic so we were nicely sheltered from the worst of it.  Then the wind really picked up and began vibrating the plastic sheeting and all of the sporting pennants that hung from the back of the stadium and the sound was something like sitting underneath target practice for a U.S Marines' rapid-fire light artillery unit.  Did it thunder?  I'm not sure, all I could hear were the guns, er, plastic.  And when I say that is all I could hear, I mean that was it.  Flapping plastic.
But we were there, right?
By the time we got into the car to drive home we were blue, dripping and deaf.
The stadium is not too many blocks from the famous "Dracula's Castle" and as we drove through the torrential rain I thought "too bad we won't get a photo of the castle" but then the rain let up and I thought we were in luck. The castle came into view and as Mihai pulled over and as I readied the camera I noticed the oddest white stuff floating in the air.

Snow.

In May.

Seriously.

You say you can't believe it well, I am here to tell you that its true and I know it is because we. were. there.

Right about here I stopped taking photos because I could see the rain was picking up and I wanted to get the camera packed away some place safe.  The only thing you missed was the sight of umbrellas blowing inside out.

Dracula's Castle looking eerie in the snow-filled twilight