A Whole New World

There are no words to describe how amazing our trip to Romania was. I will truly never be able to fully explain how much we did, how real our experiences were, and how much the trip affected me as a person. All I can say is, I learned so many things about the country, the world, my friends, and myself.

I'm not sure what any of us were expecting on this trip (any of us being myself and the guys, Diana obviously had a better idea than us) but what we experienced was exponentially outside of our imaginations. The day we started traveling was long to say the least. I got up and drove to Binghamton to pick up Francis and drove back to Saylorsburg to park at my mom's house. Steve and his brother met us there to drive the three of us to Newark Airport. We met up with Diana there and boarded our first flight. It was a long flight, filled with poor attempts to sleep and lots of stupid jokes (although the migraine I had for most of that flight did not make that leg of the trip very pleasant at all). From there we had a three hour layover in London. We sat down in a cafe and had some tea and food while we waited, chatting away the hours, enjoying each others' company and anticipating the rest of the trip. Finally, we boarded our second flight (which was over in a heartbeat considering we all passed out until they said "Welcome to Budapest"). We got a car to the train station where we met up with Diana's cousin, Paul. He has lived in Hungary for the past 12 years and he took the day to show us all of the monuments possible. We hopped train after tram after bus. We never would have seen as much as we did or even chanced any public transit without him. If you are my friend on Facebook you can get an idea of just how much we saw considering I have an entire photo album from just this day. Keep in mind, we only spent 6 hours in Budapest and the 104 photos I have online are only the ones I pulled out to post; there are so many more. After a long afternoon in Hungary, we boarded our train to take us to Romania. Again, laughing and jokes all around, keeping each other awake so we wouldn't miss our stop, getting delayed by customs and police people. Finally crossing the border and meeting Diana's dad. We made it to their home after midnight and Diana's mom and dad were both more than ready to feed us our first traditional Romanian meal. Three or four courses later, so stuffed we could barely think straight, we finally made our way to our beds. It was a ridiculously long 48 hours, but well worth every second. We were greeted with traditional Romanian Polinka (a strong, home-made liquor that is served with every meal--yes, breakfast too), warm hugs and happy faces, and a place to stay, where saying we felt welcome is the understatement of my life.

We woke the next day to another several course meal. Then there was the pig. Diana's parents prepared to have a traditional pig for us to eat. They killed and butchered it right there at the house and we had wonderful steaks and sausages and so much more for the remainder of our trip. I chose not to watch the initial stages (which the guys loved to tease me about). In retrospect it was very cool and the food was great, I just am not capable of forming any kind of attachment to an animal if I know I am going to eat it. We drove around Santana (Diana's town) a bit with her dad. We saw what the town had to offer and spent the day relaxing around her house. Her house by the way, was very cool. Her backyard is probably one of the most peaceful places I've ever had the pleasure of relaxing in. We met her niece, Maia. She was very cute but very afraid of us at first. She certainly came around later in the week, but it took a while for her to stop associating us with the dead pig. Diana got her hair done which took a while; so Steve, Francis, and I were dropped off at a restaurant where we had a drink and just talked about random things before we set off roaming around Santana ourselves. We walked for a few hours just enjoying the peacefulness and admiring everyday life in Romania (and how welcomed we were by the Branduse family). We finally met back up with Diana before heading back home to eat some tasty pork. We went out for a bit that evening into Arad, the city about 30 minutes from her home. We saw monuments, visited Diana's past, had ice cream, played in the park, and just had memorable experience after memorable experience. That night ended with the knowledge that we would be getting up before dawn the next day to head out on our Romanian roadtrip. Diana's dad was going to drive us clear across the country, making a big circle so we could see everything the country had to offer. Do you ever get these opportunities in real life? It was all so surreal.

Bright and early we piled ourselves into the family car. Diana in the front, obviously so she could talk with her dad, and Francis, Steve, and me in the back. I can't even tell you how many hours we spent in the backseat over those two days, but in the long run it was a really great time and I will hold those memories for a lifetime. We got to see the sunrise over the mountains as we drove. We saw historical landmarks, heard old Romanian legends, stopped for traditional foods, and got first hand experience of the craziness that is Romanian driving and traffic. We made it all the way to Bucharest, the capital city, where we had a driving tour as we tried to escape the traffic. We made it out of the city and found ourselves in another town where we stopped to find a hotel for the night. We had a nice fish dinner and then went back to the hotel for some drinks. We hung out basically all night just laughing and talking; again, so many memories that I can't even begin to explain them or how much fun I had.

The next morning we headed back out to continue our journey. We drove through the Carpathian Mountains, which were some of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen. We stopped to take photos at the tops of some of the mountains and the feeling of peace was just indescribable. We saw more monuments to battles, monasteries, cheese, sheep, flowers, churches, and even more beautiful mountain scenery. We made our way to Dracula's castle, which was unfortunately closed, but still so cool. And hey, just another excuse to go back soon! We did a little shopping and went through a haunted house (thank you Francis). It was a fun experience for us as a group though, considering none of us made it out of that thing without screaming. Then we got in the car and made the last (very long) leg of our journey back to Diana's house. I think we arrived around 2/2:30am aka we passed out quick.

We slept in the next morning. When we finally got up it was just to be a relaxing day at home. Something that I thought was very cool: we ended up borrowing some of the neighbors' bikes and the four of us took a bike ride around Santana. We stopped to have a drink and chill, then back on the bikes for a bit. It sounds so simple, maybe even boring, but there was just something about it. Doing something so home-ish in a foreign country, I'm not describing this well at all, but there is just something so cool about that to me. Maia came back over and we had all fully bonded by now. We played and watched her laugh and enjoyed the simple pleasures of it. We ended up going to a Shepard 's field to see the sheep with her. The Shepard was very nice and fed us homemade meat and cheese (as if we could have eaten any more food with the vast amounts being pushed at us every few hours). He thought I spoke Romanian very well (for the little I know) and I thought that was really cool. We brought Maia home and then the four of us hung out for a while. The next morning would be Easter, so at midnight, Diana's church has a ceremony where you light candles and circle the church three times before a service. We went and it was definitely an experience. We lit our candles, made our rounds, listened to them speak outside, and when the service started we decided to leave. We obviously wouldn't have understood it anyway and it apparently would have gone well into the morning; so we made the walk home, stargazing the whole way.

Happy Easter! The next morning we got up to a traditional Romanian Easter breakfast including colored eggs which we cracked on each others' eggs (a tradition in that region of the world). We spent another day playing with Maia, relaxing in Diana's backyard, and eating full traditional meals. Today we had lamb instead of pork (for lunch at least). After a long relaxing day, we left for town to go to a traditional Romanian Ball. There was a band and traditional dancing (although the clothing was all modern). The four of us took a shot at dancing--there are no words to describe how funny we must have looked. We met some new people, at least Steve and Francis certainly did, and had a good night laughing and dancing. We did dance a lot considering we didn't know the steps well, but it was all part of the experience and just a fun new thing we tried. It was night for some good girl talk between Diana and I while the boys had some "girl talk" of their own, ha.

We woke up on Monday, and piled back in the car. We drove to Timisoara, a city about an hour from Santana. We learned about the history of the 1989 revolution and saw where it all began. We walked around Victory Square and did most of our souvenir shopping. We came back to Santana to enjoy our last evening in the company of our amazing hosts. After more food and relaxing, Diana's parents went to bed and the four of us spent the night reminiscing and talking about life. Then we put on a movie and passed out.

We woke up late on the morning we had to leave. Go figure, considering we (at least Steve and I) were up until 3 or so and we had to leave by 7. But we got ourselves together, ate our last Romanian meal, said goodbye to Diana's mom, and headed out. Diana's dad drove us back to Arad where we got a car to take us to the airport in Budapest. We made our final goodbyes and took the several hour car ride. We got to the airport, boarded our plane, and were off. Two and a half hours later we were back in London, waiting for our next flight. Finally, we were over the Atlantic and then, back in Newark. My mom picked us up and took us to her house where Conner (my pick-up) was waiting. We drove back to Binghamton with a brief stop in Scranton for food (who knew, eating crazy amounts of meals all week and without them we were finally hungry). We ended up getting back to our apartments around 2 or 3am. It was a total of 26 hours of travel for us; all to leave a place we had grown to love so quickly and return to Binghamton, the fourth most depressing place to live in the U.S. (no, I'm not kidding, look it up).

I know I keep repeating this, but I can't help it: there really are no words to describe this trip. All I've managed to do here is give a relatively chronological account of events. But there are so many other things: the hospitality, the food, the experiences, the conversations, the knowledge, the serenity, the joy, the living, the history, the traditions, the scenery, the uniqueness, the weather, the reality, the people, the music, the driving, the stars, the memories, the infinite number of things I could continue to list here but won't. I think I came back from this trip a different person; not completely, maybe not even noticeably, but something in me is different from this trip, even if I can't exactly explain what it is to other people. All I know is that when I bought my plane ticket a month ago, I never in a million years would have expected this trip to be what it was. I feel so blessed to have been given this opportunity and I'm so glad that the group of people I went with worked so well together. We never fought (beyond the married couple bickering of Francis and Diana, but that's always happening) and I think we all came back much closer friends than we started. I can only hope my future travels are half of what I experienced in the past week. So here's to you Romania, for everything you gave to us and for the memories we will always share; Noroc!

"Buckets of Grace"

What a blessing. It's the little things that really do it for me, that mean the most. I've been more or less on the verge of tears for a week and a half. My Aunt Leisa, the woman who basically raised me, taught me morals, respect, and just loved me through my diaper days until her last days, passed away Wednesday before last. It has been the most heartbreaking thing I've ever endured to date (and I think I've gone through a good bit in only 23 years so far). There's a whole story there, but frankly, it's still too fresh for me to write about yet, so maybe a little down the road. What I'm getting at is significantly off topic from this, but that little bit of backstory makes the story I'm about to tell make a little more sense.

When I came home this weekend I had a card from the church that several people had signed with their love and prayers. It meant a lot to me and (go figure) made me cry. I went into church this morning a little shakily, just afraid people might ask about it because I knew I wouldn't be able to respond without tears. Fortunately, only one person mentioned it and briefly enough to give me a hug and say a few words without reducing me to a sobbing mess. That was to come later. Worship was nice and I survived prayer with minimal welling up. For those of you unfamiliar with the church I attend, we sing a few songs, then pray, we give tithes and offerings, then there is one more song before the pastor comes up to talk. It was this last song that broke me. The worship leader, Mark, his son is apparently on his way to boot camp, today. He wrote a song for his son and sang it solo on stage. Even if he hadn't explained the situation to us beforehand, it would have been a beautiful song. Knowing the scoop however, plus the way his voice cracked at select moments, was enough to break everyone in the room--no dry eyes to be seen. It was an amazingly special moment. We prayed over their family and they literally walked off stage and out the door--that was their last moment before they had to drive their son to the army. Obviously, I know the feeling of seeing a loved one head off to boot camp, so I can relate, but the entire moment was so wonderful and special. It was truly a blessing to be able to witness it.

Service was good but like I said, it's the little things. While Pastor was closing up, he was describing this scene to us and I think it will stick with me for a long time. The gist was that you're thoroughly outnumbered and undersized but heading into battle anyway. You've resigned to take out as many of the enemy as possible before you are inevitably wiped out--because there is no way you're coming out of this alive. You pick the biggest one on the other side you can find and set your sights there. Then, a little above that person you see Jesus. He smiles at you and winks; a private little joke passes between you. Death is no longer on the table; you just found the one thing that can turn the battle on its head. The imagery continued a bit and this may sound like a simple little story, but like I said: simple things. I think this may have been one of the things that you needed to be there for it to affect you but it certainly affected me, I'm not even sure I can explain how, but it certainly inspires confidence. Any time you're facing down something you're terrified of, or someone insulting you, or are afraid to stand up for your convictions, you can keep this image of Jesus right over that person's shoulder, sharing this private joke with you, letting you know that He's there and not any other thing even matters. What an amazing feeling; and a great way to keep you encouraged and pushing forward!

The funny thing too, was that Pastor called us all up to the front to explain this story to us and just as he was finishing up a lady next to me started shouting (again if you know anything about my church this isn't unheard of). She was saying all of these powerful things and giving thanks and encouragement...and right in the midst of it, all the power in the church went off. Now, those who are not into church or religion or whatever, are probably saying this is all just part of the "scam" trying to either encourage or frighten people into obeying. Take my word on this one, it wasn't (I know it's easier to take my word for it if you actually know me in person rather than if you've stumbled upon this, but there's not much I can do about that for now). So like I was saying, it's the simple things that really make an impact. Small little things that kept happening all morning, but when I walked back out those doors this morning, I felt a lot better in my soul than I have in a while. This was definitely something that I needed. I don't have much else to say for now; this morning was just a wonderful blessing to me and I wanted to pass it along to anyone who comes across this. Like I said, I think you had to be there for it to impact you as it did me, but maybe this will mean something to someone. Until next time!