'Cause Romania is my country

Here it is, here it is on the map of Europe:

and it has been there in the same spot, maybe sometimes a little bigger, sometimes a little smaller...it has been there for over 2,000 years. 

I remember there was a class in primary school were students were asked to say what was Romania's shape like? The book's answer was that it looked like a bunch of flowers in a flower pot (the Black Sea) and a picture accompanied the text. Here's my brother's answer: "Romania looks like a duck with it's butt in the water." The water still being the Black Sea. How innocent of him! As a grownup I see Romania shaped like everything I miss about my childhood, about my friends and family and about Romania's beautiful scenery. There's no day that I do not miss home.

On missing home over the holidays

Dear friend,

As I am truly missing home these days and together with that my family, my lost childhood, the snow and the smell of fresh evergreen, I want to share Goga's poem, "Casa Noastra" --I am sorry I do not have a translation right now....but for my Romanian friends...

Casa noastră - Octavian Goga


Trei pruni frăţini, ce stau să moară, 
Îşi tremur' creasta lor bolnavă, 
Un vânt le-a spânzurat de vârfuri 
Un pumn de fire de otavă. 
Cucuta creşte prin ogradă, 
Şi polomida-i leagă snopii...
- Ce s-a ales din casa asta, 
Vecine Neculai al popii!...

De pe pereţii-ngălbeniţi 
Se dezlipeşte-n pături varul, 
Şi pragului îmbătrânit 
Începe-a-i putrezi stejarul; 
Iar dacă razele de soare 
Printre şindrile facu-şi cale, 
Văd sporul pânzei de păianjen 
Şi-nfiorate mor de jale.

Cum dorm acum de mult pierdute 
Sub vreascurile stinse-a vetrii 
Poveştile-nşirate seara 
De-atâtea cuscre şi cumetri; 
Cum tremură cenuşa aspră, 
Ce-nfioraţi îmi par cărbunii 
De vraja care-o mai păstrară 
Din câte povesteau străbunii...

Înfipt în meşter-grindă, iată-l, 
Răvaşul turmelor de oi; 
Şireagul lui de crestături 
Se uit-atât de trist la noi. 
Îmi duce mintea-n alte vremi 
Cu slova-i binecuvântată. 
În pragul zilelor de mult 
Parcă te văd pe tine, tată.

Şi parc-aud pocnet de bici 
Şi glas stăruitor de slugă 
Răsare mama-n colţul şurii, 
Aşază-ncet merindea-n glugă... 
Înduioşată, mă sărută 
Pe părul meu bălan, pe gură : 
„Zi Tatăl nostru seara, dragă, 
Şi să te porţi la-nvăţătură!”...

Şi uite-mi trec pe dinainte
În rânduri- rânduri toate cele:
Oraşul înnegrit de fumuri
Şi toate plânsetele mele.
Cum m-am facut apoi cuminte
Cu vremea ce înainta,
Şi m-am trezit pe nesimţite
Că-mi zice satul „Dumneata...”

Şi câtor strigături la joc
Ţineam cu glasul meu ison,
De câte ori am spus povestea
Lui Alexandru Machedon.
Şi ca un cântec, cum s-a stins
Frumoasa mea copilărie –
Şi dragostea de două veri
Cu fata popii Irimie...

Cu valul vremilor ce curg
Atâtea cântece s-au dus,
Şi valul vremilor ce curg
Atâtea cântece-a răpus...
Eu vă sărut, păreţi străbuni,
Pe varul alb, scobit de ploaie...
................................................
De ce-ţi ştergi ochii cu cămaşa,
Ori plângi, vecine Niculaie?...

Luceafărul, Budapesta, 1 august 1903
Din volumul „Poezii”, 1905

Mos Niculai

Dear childhood friend, country fellow, or curious reader,

So, tonight is the night! Mos Niculai or St. Nicholas is coming tonight! In the Romanian Orthodox tradition we celebrate St. Nick on December 6th, so on the night of the 5th every boy and girl polish their shoes and leaves them by the door hoping that St. Nick will pass by and drop off some presents. Same kind of story... if you were mean, expect some stitches, but if you were good expect candy and socks and oranges galore! We do celebrate Christmas and Santa Claus and we get more presents then, but this is kind of a present warm up! I remember one year on St. Nick's eve, dad turn off the lights and pretended there was a power outage (very common in those times) and we had to hang out by the stove and wait for the power to come back. In the meantime, my next door neighbor (who by the way was wearing a skirt and had a bag) sneaked in and dropped presents in our shinny boots by the door. St. Nick was wearing a skirt! That year I remember I got a Snow White box of candy and new socks. I must have been 4 or 5 years old...

For those who read Romanian here is an article from Formula As on Mos Nicolae. 

Till next time,

Veronica

Weird things growing up

A few years ago my husband and I were talking to some friends and they were telling us about this weird custom they heard about where the mothers keep a part of the child's cord after the child is given birth. If you are Romanian you know what's coming...I had to admit! In Romania, we do it too...and when the child turns seven years old, he/she gets to open it. Why? I have no idea?! This is a custom just as weird as saving the wedding cake topper in the United States and eating it after one year. Well, we don't eat the cord after seven years (ha,ha) but we just mess around with it on our birthdays. I am attaching a picture of me when I turned seven. As you can see, the entire process created quite a stir...

Candy

Last night while talking about all the Halloween candy that was left and how we should have a center where it could be donated for some kids in Africa somewhere, I thought about my childhood when there wasn't much candy that you could buy (maybe 2,3 kinds) and how at some point some foreigners had given us some milky way, bounty and snickers that tasted absolutely fantastic! I remember that after we ate the candy we "preserved" the wrappers in some of my dad's big books and we would go smell them once in a while to remember the taste. How bitterly sweet is that? Also, we used to exchange wrappers as kids just as we used to exchange stamps or soccer player cards or toys. Years later looking through some of my dad's books I found the wrappers... they must have been at least 10 years old, but they smelled just as sweet!