I’ve got a new blog to add to the blogroll, a priceless gem from an American teaching English in Bucharest, which you can see here.
But first, a few clips to share with you.
I was touched more in the three hours I was at school than in the last three months. Held and stroked and kissed and rubbed and patted. No hugs, really- just a whole lot of other stuff. It was uncomfortable at first, but I really do enjoy physical affection- I think it is going to work out just fine.
Unfortunately, she makes a comic error at guessing why Romanians like to rub all over you (but no hugs!):
Secondly, (and you may laugh, but I am absolutely being serious) these people spent decades waiting in bread lines. Getting close to eachother was a necessity both to keep out the cold and people trying to cut in line. They are used to touching others, and extend this warm manner to foreigners. It was kind of nice.
Aww… I think that’s kind of cute, actually.
In particular, I am discussing a delectible item called shawormas or kebabs. I cannot fully describe the goodness of this food, a pita with meat from a spit (I go with the pui, or chicken), with sauce and lettuce and cabbage and tomatos and onions and usually pickles. They are AMAZING.
And finally, last but not least, talking about one of the young children in her class:
I looked over at Victor, a boy of unbelievable adorability (not a word, but let’s run with it) and his eyes get wide and then he just sneezes. Everywhere. And as he literally spews gunk everywhere, he leaves a trail of DRIPPING snot hanging from his nose, almost touching his chest. I run to him with a kleenex, and nearly collapse on the floor with laughter. Because, friends, Romania is a drippy place.
And I’ve GOT this.