Disapressing, Disapressing Indeed

Since March has snuck up on us, I decided I would give you a sort of best and worst moments of February. I'll start with the worst first and post the best moment tomorrow.

The worst moment of February is easily my two hour marshuka ride home. I'm sorry to disappoint those of you who think a marshuka is some sort of indigenous Moldovan beast frequently used for transportation purposes. It's not. It is actually a van used for mass transportation of people here in this fair city. There is no real way to paint an accurate picture of these glorious chariots. I am simply not a good enough writer to describe their strange smells and happenings nor their Russian polka or mellow Moldovan jazz which is sometimes played to keep the driver's spirits at a pleasant level.

Essentially it is a van with a raised roof, a few inches less than 6 feet (which I hover right at if not a little above). It contains about 11 seats which are crammed together and enough standing room to accommodate 5 people comfortably. So that puts us at about 16 people who can comfortably ride in this beautiful contraption. Well, the other day I counted 30. Yes, I said 30. As you can imagine, people are packed in tightly. I spent one morning ride (avg 45+ minutes to get to the orphanage) pressed against two grizzly men and the window continually gripping one of the metal poles so I would not fall down during the marshuka's many and constant stops. Of course, if one were to fall, he or she would knock down the other 15 standers, usually including really old woman with mustaches. But they're cheap, (the marshukas, not the old woman) about 2 lei (currently 13 lei to 1 us dollar).

That is a bad part of every day. But what made this day the worst of the month was the longevity of the torture. You see, these marshukas have routes that basically go in circles. It will go from point a to point b and back to a and so forth. I knew this. What I didn't know is how far these points were from each other. So I am in a random part of the city and see the 180. That runs right by my house. I stop it, get on and wedge myself next to the most attractive woman I could find, a roughly 60 year old pudgy lady with no mustache, a rarity. And we ride.

About 45 minutes later, we arrive. Where am I? I don't know. I look around and I am in the middle of nowhere. I've never seen this place, I cannot speak Romanian, and I couldn't begin to tell anybody where I am. During this ride the sun set and I couldn't recognize anything. I was just waiting for the familiarity of my street. It never came. Eventually I'm the last person on it. I should have just followed the pudgy lady home.

So I get off the marshuka and decide to walk. I walk for about 10 minutes and see a 180 coming my way, the opposite direction we were going. I hop on and in another hour I know where I am. It took me about 2 hours when all was said in done to get home.

I was defeated, beaten and discouraged but safely at home. The venture was a little disapressing (a word I made which is a combination of disappointing and depressing) but it was a learning experience. Now I ride marshukas just to see where they go. So far none of the marshukas go to Taco Bell which is very disapressing.

i'm really tired

Alright, so I'm wearing out a little bit. Today was one of those days that should have frustrated me. I woke up unnaturally early. But it wasn't an awake awakening, if you pick up what I'm laying down. It was a more of a zombie-like state than anything. I could carry out basic functions such as standing, meandering, scratching, squinting, moaning and of course groaning. I decided I would enjoy some cereal this fine morning, which was still dark.

Enter Russian cereal.

I've blogged about these fine Russian cereals before. They are certainly growing on me. Today's cerial was the Russian cocoa puffs: "Start!.....Chocolate Balls ."

Needless to say, I was excited about this breakfast. I mean, who wouldn't be? So I open the box to find a perfectly clear bag. It looked so pure, like a cereal should look. There was no need to hide these chocolate balls in something more opaque.

So I poor my bowl. I delicately maneuver the balls into my preferred cereal formation. For those of you who don't know, I am very particular with how I eat my cereal. I like to have a dry side. I'll sort of wedge the cereal to the side of the bowl away from me. This gives me a shallow side in front of me. I'll only poor milk on the shallow side. This allows me to have better control on how soggy/unsoggy my cereal will be towards the end. Heck, I haven't eaten dinner yet. I'll eat a bowl and take some pictures. Just a second.

What you'll need:

bowl and spoon

milk, or what we call lapte (translates: strange milk in a box)

Ladies and Gentlemen, I'd like you to meet "Smart." I'd also like you to note the exciting back of this box. Fun will ensue as I build a little start factory complete with trees.

Step 1: poor favoring side away from you. yes, i leave in the spoon.

step 2: poor lapte only on side closest to self being careful not to spill.

step 3: using spoon begin tapping down cereal as you start enjoying. as you eat, cereal from under the dry side should start filling in wet side. if you have trouble you can use the spoon to retrieve cereal from underneath dry side to the wet side. repeat this process as many times as it takes.

step 4: towards the end of the bowl the dry wall is still effective. however, in about two spoon fulls i will begin to soak all chocolate balls. from then on it is a free for all. i'll usually end the bowl by gently placing to my mouth and drinking the excess milk, which, in this case, was delicious chocolate lapte.

Okay, so that is basically how I eat cereal. Like I said I'm tired. I really have no idea what this post is about or where I was going with it.

Well, all day things kind of went wrong to go right. I wake up really early and get to enjoy some delicious Russian chocolate balls. There were other things that went poorly today, but most of them ended up being overshadowed by something else. So I guess that is a good day.

Russian cereal and Jesus make me happy, but not in that order.

boxes, eyes and gold stars

Let me introduce you to some of the Sweet Sleep carpenters.





We got Artur on the left trying to look tough.

Ivan is in the middle looking.... well, I don't know what that face is supposed to imply.

Dima is on the right sending out the vibes.

A motely crew we are.


Here is a little taste of what we have been working in. The sad thing is that this is the best it has looked since we started. We have no space or room to get it better organized. Boxes were literally stacked to the ceiling the entire way around the room. We have been putting together all this furniture which the orphanage received from some company as humanitarian aid. Basically it is damaged, useless, or missing parts half of the time.

I've been trying out some of the furniture. I fit in this one much better then some other ones. As you can see, I've shaved my beard. I grew tired of beard sickles. It was a move I regretted almost instantly. Maybe I just need to get more familiar to my hairless chin(s).

I've enjoyed working with the guys. It has been tiring at times, mainly because of the difficulties of communicating. But it has helped me get a good feel for the guys.

English classes have started. Oxana did an amazing job and held their attention for a solid 2 hours. It was pretty cool to watch. They enjoyed it and laughed quite a bit as they butchered the English language, but in a loving way. To help pay for this, and their 70$ books, send checks to Sweet Sleep with English lessons in the memo. Go to the sweet sleep link for payment information. http://www.sweetsleep.org

This is Ivan at class. He loved it. During class, he looked at me and said "I like this, fun." He really did enjoy it. You can see it in his face.

Ivan's face is fascinating to me.

In the back of his eyes there is a constant fear standing against an infant hope. Even when he is happy those things are there fighting for control. Even a little hope can be enough to fight back and he has got a lot of things to fight through and overcome. We are here to help him, to show him the way to Christ, to help the light prevail and to love him.

One day he told me that he hears God in one ear and the devil in the other. I asked which he listens to. The answer was in his eyes. He is wrestling, trying to figure our how to listen to God. His eyes reveal how delicate he really is. There are a lot of those kind of eyes in this place.

I'm sure, if you were to look for them, you could find Ivan's eyes in the faces of people you see and interact with everyday. You might even find them when you look, honestly, into your own eyes. We are delicate creatures. We were made in God's image but always seem to be forgetting that. Paul prayed we, the church and God's children, would have the eyes of our hearts enlightened, that we may know what is the hope to which he has called us, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance in the saints. (Eph 1.18)

This is my prayer for Ivan, for all these guys and for a world God loves immeasurably. I want his eyes, the lamps of his body, to be so full of light that to look at him would blind you with the truth and with the hope that so richly dwells in him. I want that fear out of them suckers. There is no fear in love, and Love lives in us when we let Christ dwell there. And He is willing, perfectly willing, and even wanting to live in us. That is easily beautiful.

.... a winter wonder-why-is-it-so-cold-land?

I thought that I would load some pictures I took of the wintery surroundings since I haven't included many pictures recently. Hopefully these pictures will capture a little of my blustery surroundings. They will give you just a taste of the things I face on a day to day basis. I'll try to get some pictures of the guys soon. Just understand that I am in no way shape or form a photographer. Quite frankly I'm just happy my thumb isn't in any of these.

the never moving truck: it is always there, like God. only God works. it is a limited metaphor.

half of my slippery slope: i must trek up and down this every day to get anywhere, this is the halfway point. it be dangerous.

death sickles: these are little ones. seriously, they'll kill you. we're looking at about a 4-5 foot average there.

not so much the heat as it is the humidity: miles to go before i sleep. i gots to walk a lot. things freeze in my beard.

mysterious rusty gate: who knows what monster lives behind this, i hear it growling every time i pass it. i think it be pretty all rusty and such

bumbles: suspicious, i climbed the gate and find a loveable, yet likely dangerous, snow yetti

i shant fear: luke skywalker got my back. he keeps bumbles the yetti in line with his light saber as he rides his trusty taun taun.

Well I hope that sheds a little light on the weather conditions. I got a little sloppy with my English back there. I apologize.

i'm not dancing anymore

So this lone star from Texas named Robert and I had this little joke going on the first week I was here. It pertained to the slippery nature of ice and the difficulty we were having walking gracefully upon it. He told me that if you ever started to slip a little to just act like you were dancing. It worked for a while, that is until gravity had it's sweet revenge.

It happened Friday, the day after I was wearing my flip flops in the snow. I was just walking, minding my own business when an evil patch of ice attacked me. It was hidden under some unassuming snow. It looked so harmless, so pure, so sturdy. Then it took me by force with its gorilla warfare tactics.

Before I knew it I was trying to pick myself up off the ground. The good news is I didn't hurt my arms or legs or anything like that. My head was able to cushion the fall since my hands were in my pockets.

That's right. I hit it hard. There was nothing I could do to stop it. No dancing would or could save me now. I attempted to act like I was doing push-ups or something but it was to no avail. I was clearly in pain. I was clearly daunted. And I was clearly not dancing, not even break dancing. So Robert, your plan is flawed or, at the very least, incomplete. Stay in Texas where it's safe, where you can hide in your oversized cowboy hats and eat at the D.Q.
This ice be vicious.

Emily Borders, shout-out....holla, you know how I feel about people falling and I stick by my feelings about it. Once I regained consciousness, hilarious.

i'm a horrible person, i know

I'm sorry. It has been over a week since my last post.

For the record, I am alive and I'm feeling much better. I've moved again and I do not have an internet connection yet. So for the next week or two, just expect not to hear much on this. I will be back, and in full force, in due time.

What have I been doing?

Thanks for asking. Well, I've been meeting with the contractor quite a bit. It turns out that we may be working on the house by the beginning of March. That is great news. We are still accecpting donations to the building fund so if you got some extra money, I got a place to put it. Go to Sweet Sleep's website for information. (Don't tell anybody, but I'm planning on putting a hot tub in my room with some of the money I've laundered.) One good thing about this contractor is that he is willing to let our guys work on the project. I think it will be a really good experience for them.

Speaking of the guys, I've been working with them this week. We are putting together a bunch of furniture somebody donated to the orphanage. Most of it is damaged or missing essential things like screws, shelves or garden gnomes. It has been good to see how they work. Some of the guys, I won't mention names, work a little better than others. But it has been fun to see how they interact. Artur is a big knucklehead. He will ask me to help him with something. I will show him what he is doing wrong and then he will yell "I know, I know," as he feels insulted that I would try to help him when he clearly knows what he is doing. Now I know how Norm must have felt after all those years of helping Bob Vila. I always loved how Bob would do about 5 seconds work at the start of a project and then another 5 seconds work at the end. We were supposed to think he did the 5 hours worth of work in between. Come on Bob, we're not stupid.

I've also been working on language, both for the guys and myself. I've been setting up English classes for them through a program called "English for New Life." They teach English by using the Bible. It seems to work pretty well, both for teaching English and getting people to read the Bible. I think it will be good for them, and ultimately me (which is infinitely more important). If you are still wanting to donate money for their lessons, please do. You can email me about it if you like or even if you'd like to yell at me. twbedi@samford.edu
I've started my Romanian classes. Oh, how stupid I feel. Learning a new language is just plain tough, especially when you're me. My teacher is tiny. She is about 4 feet tall and 38 lbs. She is good though, at least that's what I'm told.

And finally, I've been freezing. It is snowing as we speak. I came to Matthew & Jamie's place, down some stairs and next door, to use their internet. Stupidly, I wore my flip flops, a long-sleeve t-shirt and a hoody. No wonder I was sick. Coldest winter in 60 years and I'm wearing flip flops. Sorry mom.

He Plays Tricks Onto the Phone With Them

I'm sick.

It started Monday. I thought that I was just tired and needed a day to rest. The day progressed as did my illness. I thought a good amount of sleep would do me right and that the illness would be gone when I woke up the next morning. I was wrong.

Tuesday hit me like a brick. My body was sore, my head was throbbing and my throat felt like it was being tortured. I left the house only to get more water and some bread. Today, it's been more of the same. My throat doesn't hurt as much but I fell as though I have been beaten as I slept.

It has made this first week in my new home a rough one. I've been able to get a little bit done, not much but a little. The guys are now registered for English classes and I have a meeting with my possible Romanian tutor in the next few days. I've also been talking to people about possibly translating for me. Things are slowly moving along. It's been hard being sick and all.

One thing that has brought me some relief is these two guys from Romania who have been staying here. They speak English pretty well and attempt to tell jokes quite a bit. Here is an example of how these jokes go (note; make sure you give Petru an accent in your head and kind of bumble over the words, it will add to the fun):

Petru: Speaking of telephones. How do you say? Tricked? Do you say tricked?
Me: Tricked?
Petru: Yes, when you trick some one onto the telephone. How do you say?
Me: Oh, you say a prank call.
Petru: No, that's not it.
Me: I'm pretty sure it is, but tricked works too.
Anatol: I think it is tricked.

Petru then speaks to Anatol for a few minutes in Romanian, possibly discussing the impacts of socialism on their current economic system.

Petru: Well there is this guy who tricks people onto the phone on the, how do you say, radio? Me: Yes, radio.
Petru: He is very famous (speaks in Romanian with Anatol for a few minutes, they laugh, I feel uncomfortable since I'd be willing to bet I heard my name). He calls people and plays tricks onto the phone with them, yes?
Me: Yes, we have people who do that back home.
Petru: Well, he calls this person and asks for his husband, no his wife, yes?
Me: Yes, his wife.
Petru: Then he asks the husband when she is going to replace the suit to the store. Oh, the store is, how you say (speaks to Anatol for a few frantic minutes), the funeral store, yes?
Me: Sure.
Petru: He asks the man when they are going to bring back the suit they rented and the man does not understand. How you say, confused?
Me: Yes, confused.
Petru: The husband asks the man why his wife had got a suit from the funeral store. The man says it was not expensive because it was used. Then the man gets very crazy, yes?
Me: Sure, he would get crazy.
Petru: The husband begins to ask what he means by used and the man says it was only on the dead man for a small time and then it was taken off because it didn't wear right, how do you say, not wear right?
Me: fit?
Petru: Yes, fit. It did not fit so they take it off. The man becomes crazy and says he cannot believe his wife would do such a thing as this. He says she is not right and he will kill her and he gets very angry. Then they tell the man it was a joke. It is very popular in Romanian. You can hear it every day at 9 and 30 during the morning.
Me: That is very funny Petru.
Petru: Do they do that in America.
Me: Why yes, Petru, yes they do.
Petru: Ah yes, America.