Sunday, August 29:
My body did not appreciate waking up this morning. My alarm began beeping at 6:37, and I rolled over and groaned and smacked at it, almost knocking it off the bedpost onto Marit’s head below me. But somehow I caught it and eventually got down from the top bunk. I had promised to meet Kadie at her apartment at 7:00 to go running, which was good incentive. Had it not been for that promise, I probably would have gone back to sleep.
But I am so glad I ran. As soon as I figured out the building’s front door lock and stepped outside, I knew I’d enjoy the morning. It’s still raining a bit here, just a drizzle, so everything is slightly soggy and there are clouds drifting along the tops of the mountains, shrouding the peaks. We didn’t run far—just half an hour out of town, out and back, up and then down, on a gradually-winding road into the hills. But the view was magnificent, and I loved the familiar feel of sweat trickling down my face, my feet pounding pavement, and the well-known rhythm of my body’s stride and breathing… I love running.
When I returned to the apartment, Marit and Julie were up. We’re not going to church this morning because of timing issues I guess, but our apartment is right across the street from a Pentecostal church. We’re on the top floor of our building, so our view is pretty great, and this morning we all stood in the kitchen and watched out the window as the congregation’s members showed up for the morning service. An elderly gentleman stood at the door, shaking hands and ushering people inside (we started to call him the butler). Slowly, alone and in pairs, the congregation arrived: mostly old ladies, hair covered with headscarves, walking slowly and gingerly up the stairs to the church, gripping their canes or the handrail tightly as they stepped carefully in their slightly-heeled church shoes. Old men arrived next, most of them in little bowler hats and suit jackets, greeting each other and shuffling their way past the butler into the sanctuary. But suddenly, after most of the rather-elderly congregation had arrived, a white van came squealing up to the corner and two young guys jumped out, one with a guitar strapped to his back; they bounded up the steps to the church and vanished inside as well. Hmm… I’ve always wanted to go to a Pentecostal church, but now I’m even more curious to attend the Biserica Penticostăl in Lupeni...
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Scattered thoughts.
Saturday, August 28:
It’s raining in Romania. There’s thunder rumbling outside our apartment, and lightning cracks across the sky occasionally, briefly illuminating the mountain peaks across the street. Lupeni is situated in the Jiu Valley of the Transylvanian Alps, so the city is narrow, strung out through the valley. Behind our apartment building, there are a few more blocks of buildings, but then the land rises steeply into thickly-wooded mountains. Across the street, there are two blocks of apartment buildings (and a Pentecostal church), but then the city runs into mountains again. This is the Jiu Valley. It’s one of the poorest areas in Romania: the last official figures put unemployment at 56 percent. Crime is rare here, but rates of alcoholism and poverty are high. Corruption is rampant. All of Romania faces corruption, but in this area it’s especially virulent. Communism has left a lot of legacies, but the culture of corruption seems to be one of the hardest to destroy—well, that and the big gray block apartments. They stretch on for at least a kilometer down the valley, one huge cement box after another, each crumbling and worn down, with little glimpses of the life inside barely breaking through the foreboding exterior. During the Communist era, the apartment buildings were government-owned; now, every tenant owns his or her own apartment. As a result, walking through them is almost comical for the mishmash—if repairs have been made, they have been made by individuals on their own apartment only. None of the doors in our building match. Some people have put in beautiful wooden doors, which seem somehow out of place in this dank gloom of the stairwell (which no one maintains at all, so it smells of mold and crumbling plaster—tragedy of the commons, I guess). Block apartments do little to build community. I doubt we’ll meet our neighbors, even if we put forth the effort in our broken Romanian. (I learned how to ask for things today, though, so maybe I can go ask to borrow sugar…) I suppose that was also intentional during the Communist era, but it’s still rather sad.
On the whole, though, Romanians are really friendly. The apartments may not embody that well, but every Romanian I’ve met so far has been wonderful—hospitable and helpful, willing to pantomime with me when I ask stupid questions like where to find the rice at the grocery store. (Unde eşte orez?) I am beginning to feel comfortable here, and have definitely fallen head-over-heels for the beauty of this place. We went for a hike tonight, past the Bates’ house, up this dirt trail to a waterfall in the mountains. It was a gorgeous evening and a beautiful walk. We returned to Dana and Brandi’s place for dinner afterward, and it was lovely—their house is an old hunting bed and breakfast, sitting right next to the river and surrounded by gardens and pasture. Everything is gently rustic and sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember that I’m not just living inside a National Geographic article. I love it. Seriously, I’m quite content to sit in the grass as the breeze blows down the mountain and listen to the river and read Dana’s books (oh, so many good books!) and eat caşcaval.
Oh—caşcaval! That reminds me! Food! Other than language class all morning, our day has been entirely taken up by eating, so this seems an appropriate time to write something about Romanian food. This afternoon we learned how to prepare some traditional Romanian dishes with our language teacher, so we made soup and salad and bread and these awesome thin pancakes that we seasoned with herbs and salt and pepper and filled with caşcaval (it’s a cheese) and fried up… mm. And tonight at the Bates’ we had sausage and chicken and some mysterious meatball-like thing from the grill (the English translation of the Romanian name is simply “meat,” so...), as well as an awesome cabbage-red wine salad and watermelon and bread (of course) and this great salad of tomatoes and onions and olives and cheese… mmm. (Well, except for the olives. I really dislike green olives. Perhaps even loathe. But I’m trying to learn to eat them anyway.) Overall, the food is pretty good—right now, a lot of bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, and cheese. Soup is the starter to every meal; bread is the staple of… everything. Everything. But I could get used to that. :)
It’s raining in Romania. There’s thunder rumbling outside our apartment, and lightning cracks across the sky occasionally, briefly illuminating the mountain peaks across the street. Lupeni is situated in the Jiu Valley of the Transylvanian Alps, so the city is narrow, strung out through the valley. Behind our apartment building, there are a few more blocks of buildings, but then the land rises steeply into thickly-wooded mountains. Across the street, there are two blocks of apartment buildings (and a Pentecostal church), but then the city runs into mountains again. This is the Jiu Valley. It’s one of the poorest areas in Romania: the last official figures put unemployment at 56 percent. Crime is rare here, but rates of alcoholism and poverty are high. Corruption is rampant. All of Romania faces corruption, but in this area it’s especially virulent. Communism has left a lot of legacies, but the culture of corruption seems to be one of the hardest to destroy—well, that and the big gray block apartments. They stretch on for at least a kilometer down the valley, one huge cement box after another, each crumbling and worn down, with little glimpses of the life inside barely breaking through the foreboding exterior. During the Communist era, the apartment buildings were government-owned; now, every tenant owns his or her own apartment. As a result, walking through them is almost comical for the mishmash—if repairs have been made, they have been made by individuals on their own apartment only. None of the doors in our building match. Some people have put in beautiful wooden doors, which seem somehow out of place in this dank gloom of the stairwell (which no one maintains at all, so it smells of mold and crumbling plaster—tragedy of the commons, I guess). Block apartments do little to build community. I doubt we’ll meet our neighbors, even if we put forth the effort in our broken Romanian. (I learned how to ask for things today, though, so maybe I can go ask to borrow sugar…) I suppose that was also intentional during the Communist era, but it’s still rather sad.
On the whole, though, Romanians are really friendly. The apartments may not embody that well, but every Romanian I’ve met so far has been wonderful—hospitable and helpful, willing to pantomime with me when I ask stupid questions like where to find the rice at the grocery store. (Unde eşte orez?) I am beginning to feel comfortable here, and have definitely fallen head-over-heels for the beauty of this place. We went for a hike tonight, past the Bates’ house, up this dirt trail to a waterfall in the mountains. It was a gorgeous evening and a beautiful walk. We returned to Dana and Brandi’s place for dinner afterward, and it was lovely—their house is an old hunting bed and breakfast, sitting right next to the river and surrounded by gardens and pasture. Everything is gently rustic and sometimes I have to pinch myself to remember that I’m not just living inside a National Geographic article. I love it. Seriously, I’m quite content to sit in the grass as the breeze blows down the mountain and listen to the river and read Dana’s books (oh, so many good books!) and eat caşcaval.
Oh—caşcaval! That reminds me! Food! Other than language class all morning, our day has been entirely taken up by eating, so this seems an appropriate time to write something about Romanian food. This afternoon we learned how to prepare some traditional Romanian dishes with our language teacher, so we made soup and salad and bread and these awesome thin pancakes that we seasoned with herbs and salt and pepper and filled with caşcaval (it’s a cheese) and fried up… mm. And tonight at the Bates’ we had sausage and chicken and some mysterious meatball-like thing from the grill (the English translation of the Romanian name is simply “meat,” so...), as well as an awesome cabbage-red wine salad and watermelon and bread (of course) and this great salad of tomatoes and onions and olives and cheese… mmm. (Well, except for the olives. I really dislike green olives. Perhaps even loathe. But I’m trying to learn to eat them anyway.) Overall, the food is pretty good—right now, a lot of bread, cucumbers, tomatoes, and cheese. Soup is the starter to every meal; bread is the staple of… everything. Everything. But I could get used to that. :)
Friday, August 27, 2010
Catching our collective breath.
Friday, August 27:
Whew.
This is the first time we've had internet access since being in Romania, so Marit and Julie and I are all sitting around in our apartment in Lupeni, catching up on the outside world. To be honest, I find all this emailing a bit overwhelming. I don't really like being tied to my computer for long periods of time. But at the same time, there are so many people I love all over the world, whose lives I still long to be some part of and whose stories I still want to hear. So email me. After these first three weeks, I'll be able to contact you back much more quickly. :)
Let's see. I could fill this post with stories of what we've been up to for the past few days--there are certainly a lot of good stories to be told. But to be honest, I don't feel like typing right now, so I'll stick with the brief summary. We arrived in Bucharest Monday afternoon and immediately drove to a gorgeous little mountain town called Sinaia. We stayed on the grounds of the palace (crazy, eh?) for two nights, then drove for one very, very, very long day to get to Lupeni. We dropped off our stuff and grabbed dinner, then headed up the mountain late that night to arrive in the ski village of Straja. We've been staying in Straja since Wednesday night, at a little mountain cabana where some of the campers from Viata stay. Our two days in Straja have been filled with orientation to Viata and to our semester here in Lupeni; next week we're coming back up to Straja and working at Viata for the full week of camp. I really love it at Viata, and find myself dreaming dreams of coming back to Romania next summer to work at this camp--but for now I need to reign in all that enthusiasm and focus on the week ahead of me. Viata is beautiful, though: it's an outdoor adventure education camp which works to develop the social capital of Romania through the empowerment of youth, especially through character- and team-building. It's really awesome. The staff is great; the high ropes and climbing and orienteering and hiking are phenomenal; the kids are adorable; and I never, ever, ever thought I would hear the Tarzan morning exercise anywhere but Summer's Best Two Weeks... but I definitely heard it at Viata. (It's hard to mistake "Now Cheetah is Velveeta.") But I think I like it better in Romanian.
Much love to all of you--I'll try to post more interesting stories some other time. For now, a few pictures!
Whew.
This is the first time we've had internet access since being in Romania, so Marit and Julie and I are all sitting around in our apartment in Lupeni, catching up on the outside world. To be honest, I find all this emailing a bit overwhelming. I don't really like being tied to my computer for long periods of time. But at the same time, there are so many people I love all over the world, whose lives I still long to be some part of and whose stories I still want to hear. So email me. After these first three weeks, I'll be able to contact you back much more quickly. :)
Let's see. I could fill this post with stories of what we've been up to for the past few days--there are certainly a lot of good stories to be told. But to be honest, I don't feel like typing right now, so I'll stick with the brief summary. We arrived in Bucharest Monday afternoon and immediately drove to a gorgeous little mountain town called Sinaia. We stayed on the grounds of the palace (crazy, eh?) for two nights, then drove for one very, very, very long day to get to Lupeni. We dropped off our stuff and grabbed dinner, then headed up the mountain late that night to arrive in the ski village of Straja. We've been staying in Straja since Wednesday night, at a little mountain cabana where some of the campers from Viata stay. Our two days in Straja have been filled with orientation to Viata and to our semester here in Lupeni; next week we're coming back up to Straja and working at Viata for the full week of camp. I really love it at Viata, and find myself dreaming dreams of coming back to Romania next summer to work at this camp--but for now I need to reign in all that enthusiasm and focus on the week ahead of me. Viata is beautiful, though: it's an outdoor adventure education camp which works to develop the social capital of Romania through the empowerment of youth, especially through character- and team-building. It's really awesome. The staff is great; the high ropes and climbing and orienteering and hiking are phenomenal; the kids are adorable; and I never, ever, ever thought I would hear the Tarzan morning exercise anywhere but Summer's Best Two Weeks... but I definitely heard it at Viata. (It's hard to mistake "Now Cheetah is Velveeta.") But I think I like it better in Romanian.
Much love to all of you--I'll try to post more interesting stories some other time. For now, a few pictures!
The palace and mountains in Sinaia.
The palace in Sinaia again.
Flowers! Mountains! Romania!
Welcome to Romania.
Tuesday, August 24:
From where I currently sit, I hear voices. Conversations flow below me on the terrace in languages I don’t understand—some Romanian, some French, some Spanish, some Italian… the sounds mix and melt in the hot late-summer air and float though the breeze up to our open window. My roommate Julie and I are taking naps in our little attic dormer room, each of us sleepy from jet lag. Our room is at the highest point of this mountain vila, with a little screenless window opening onto a meadow where, yesterday, two farmers cut and baled hay by hand onto a horse-drawn cart. A large tree obscures our view of the palace, which we visited this afternoon; in the distance, mountain peaks soar heavenward. Most of them are high enough to be bald above the treeline.
We’re currently in Sinaia, a beautiful Romanian mountain town full of tourists. The tourist part is a little unfortunate, but it’s charming and our rooms in the castle grounds are apparently extraordinarily cheap. I feel like I’ve been transported to the first Narnia movie, where Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy stay in their uncle’s rambling old house—the building’s hallways snake along, twisting all over the place and throwing in steep, curving sets of stairs at odd angles. The floors creak poetically, and it’s all quite charming: the Swiss ski chalet look of the building’s exterior, the slanted ceilings of our tiny attic room, the cobblestone streets, the bear warnings… oh yeah. Maybe those aren’t quite as charming. When we checked in, we were warned not to go walking outside past 11 pm; apparently bears here have become quite accustomed to tourists, who are too friendly and too well-fed for their own good. (I’m being glib, but it’s actually serious: I guess people have been killed by bears in recent years in Sinaia.)
Now, Mom and Dad, who I’m sure will read this and freak out—don’t worry, the bears around Lupeni are still wild and won’t come in to town to eat me. The stray dogs, however… just kidding. Sorta.
So, a word of explanation for anyone who happens to be reading this (kudos, by the way!). I’m spending the semester studying abroad in Romania with a group of four other students through a program of Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa. (No, I don’t go to Northwestern; I go to Calvin.) We arrived in Bucharest on Monday, August 23rd to begin the semester, which I’ll now try to summarize quickly. The semester is hosted by New Horizons Foundation, a faith-based NGO which focuses on the development of civil society through youth programs and outdoor adventure education. Thus, we’ll be spending a good portion of our time in Romania working with the two branches of New Horizons (FNO): first, we’ll be spending a week up at Viata; youth from all over Romania come to spend a week doing high ropes/teambuilding/outdoor adventure stuff at this camp. Many of these youth come from the other part of FNO’s work: IMPACT clubs. These clubs are scattered all across Romania, and pull in youth to do community service projects and other fun activities. Since the end of communism twenty years ago, there have been very little development of civil society in Romania—communism’s legacy of social mistrust and corruption, as well as forced community service, has ensured that. IMPACT’s goal is to raise up a generation of Romanian youth who see the world differently and are willing to serve their communities and work with other people, in the hopes that the next generation will prove to be better leaders for Romania than the current political elite have been. It’s a fascinating—and highly successful—model of social development, and I’m excited to be a part of it.
Besides those internship-like opportunities with FNO, we’ll also be taking three courses: Romanian History, Culture, and Language; Sustainable Development; and Eastern Orthodoxy. I don’t think I could have imagined a better fit for my interests, so I’m really excited to dive in! Dana and Brandi Bates, the founders and leaders of New Horizons, are fantastic, so being under their tutelage for a few months is an amazing opportunity, and Romania is absolutely beautiful and so, so rich in culture and history. Mm. I’ll try to keep you posted on how life progresses, though internet access will be really sporadic the first few weeks here due to Viata and a week of backpacking in the Retezat, etc. (Oh, what a price to pay…)
From where I currently sit, I hear voices. Conversations flow below me on the terrace in languages I don’t understand—some Romanian, some French, some Spanish, some Italian… the sounds mix and melt in the hot late-summer air and float though the breeze up to our open window. My roommate Julie and I are taking naps in our little attic dormer room, each of us sleepy from jet lag. Our room is at the highest point of this mountain vila, with a little screenless window opening onto a meadow where, yesterday, two farmers cut and baled hay by hand onto a horse-drawn cart. A large tree obscures our view of the palace, which we visited this afternoon; in the distance, mountain peaks soar heavenward. Most of them are high enough to be bald above the treeline.
We’re currently in Sinaia, a beautiful Romanian mountain town full of tourists. The tourist part is a little unfortunate, but it’s charming and our rooms in the castle grounds are apparently extraordinarily cheap. I feel like I’ve been transported to the first Narnia movie, where Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy stay in their uncle’s rambling old house—the building’s hallways snake along, twisting all over the place and throwing in steep, curving sets of stairs at odd angles. The floors creak poetically, and it’s all quite charming: the Swiss ski chalet look of the building’s exterior, the slanted ceilings of our tiny attic room, the cobblestone streets, the bear warnings… oh yeah. Maybe those aren’t quite as charming. When we checked in, we were warned not to go walking outside past 11 pm; apparently bears here have become quite accustomed to tourists, who are too friendly and too well-fed for their own good. (I’m being glib, but it’s actually serious: I guess people have been killed by bears in recent years in Sinaia.)
Now, Mom and Dad, who I’m sure will read this and freak out—don’t worry, the bears around Lupeni are still wild and won’t come in to town to eat me. The stray dogs, however… just kidding. Sorta.
So, a word of explanation for anyone who happens to be reading this (kudos, by the way!). I’m spending the semester studying abroad in Romania with a group of four other students through a program of Northwestern College in Orange City, Iowa. (No, I don’t go to Northwestern; I go to Calvin.) We arrived in Bucharest on Monday, August 23rd to begin the semester, which I’ll now try to summarize quickly. The semester is hosted by New Horizons Foundation, a faith-based NGO which focuses on the development of civil society through youth programs and outdoor adventure education. Thus, we’ll be spending a good portion of our time in Romania working with the two branches of New Horizons (FNO): first, we’ll be spending a week up at Viata; youth from all over Romania come to spend a week doing high ropes/teambuilding/outdoor adventure stuff at this camp. Many of these youth come from the other part of FNO’s work: IMPACT clubs. These clubs are scattered all across Romania, and pull in youth to do community service projects and other fun activities. Since the end of communism twenty years ago, there have been very little development of civil society in Romania—communism’s legacy of social mistrust and corruption, as well as forced community service, has ensured that. IMPACT’s goal is to raise up a generation of Romanian youth who see the world differently and are willing to serve their communities and work with other people, in the hopes that the next generation will prove to be better leaders for Romania than the current political elite have been. It’s a fascinating—and highly successful—model of social development, and I’m excited to be a part of it.
Besides those internship-like opportunities with FNO, we’ll also be taking three courses: Romanian History, Culture, and Language; Sustainable Development; and Eastern Orthodoxy. I don’t think I could have imagined a better fit for my interests, so I’m really excited to dive in! Dana and Brandi Bates, the founders and leaders of New Horizons, are fantastic, so being under their tutelage for a few months is an amazing opportunity, and Romania is absolutely beautiful and so, so rich in culture and history. Mm. I’ll try to keep you posted on how life progresses, though internet access will be really sporadic the first few weeks here due to Viata and a week of backpacking in the Retezat, etc. (Oh, what a price to pay…)
Why I sometimes hate airports.
Monday, August 23:
I was outsmarted by a toilet today. Or maybe it was yesterday—it’s hard to tell. We’ve been traveling since 6:00 Sunday morning to get from Iowa to Romania, so my sense of when events occurred has been rather seriously skewed. But regardless, at some point in that journey, I definitely got out-witted.
We were waiting in the Dusseldorf airport for our flight to Bucharest, and I had to, well, you know. So I left my luggage with the group at the gate and went off through the mysteriously-empty airport in search of a WC. I couldn’t open the door to the first women’s room I found, so I kept going. Soon I happened across a coed, single-serving, handicapped restroom, so, seeing no nearby handicapped clients, I decided to use it.
Opening the door, I see a typical bathroom, so I walk in. The door shuts behind me with a firm thud, metal and impenetrable. But it’s not locked. And there’s no way to lock it. I examine the handle like a scientist, peering at it to see if I’ve missed something, but to no avail. Then I notice two buttons: one red and one black, each is inscribed with German words I don’t know (there are, by the way, very few German words I do know, but still). I press the black one. Click. I assume that means the door is locked, but just to be sure, I decide to press the red one too. With a whirr, the door unlocks and mechanically opens, swinging smoothly outward. Feeling foolish, I tug at the handle, expecting it to close again.
It doesn’t. There it sits, wide open (and handicapped doors are quite wide, you know), sticking out into the terminal like a sore thumb. I stare at it dumbly. I press the black button again, the red button again, to no avail. There it sits. And sits. And sits. Eventually, I decide to save face and just go look for a different bathroom, so I step outside. An old man sitting at the coffee shop in the terminal stares at me. I hesitate for a moment, planning on saving face and walking away like I meant to open the door, when suddenly it begins to shut. Abandoning my pride, I yelp and jump back into the bathroom, barely slipping in the rapidly-closing crack.
When I emerged a few minutes later, the old man had folded his newspaper and was drinking his coffee. As I passed, he gave me a bemused smile. I think he was laughing at me.
Saturday, August 21, 2010
What a beautiful thing.
In six short hours, we start the journey to Romania. Yes, I should probably be sleeping. But I can never sleep the night before I leave on a trip, so why bother?
I am so excited. This program encompasses pretty much everything I am passionate about: the Church, international development, Eastern Europe, environmental stewardship, outdoor education, civil society, international political affairs, youth, backpacking... yeah. And on top of that, the path to the semester in Romania with Northwestern appeared so easily and naturally in my life that I cannot help but believe God opened the door. Now I am excited--more than excited, actually--to run through it. I'm trying to leave without expectations, a blank page where God can write, but I also cannot help but have them. I expect this semester to change me. I expect it to challenge me. I expect to fall in love with some parts of life in Romania, to barely suppress my frustration with other parts, and to not understand everything. I expect to meet God. I expect to meet people who inspire me; I expect to meet people who counter me. I expect to miss people from home and to be lonely occasionally and to be frustrated by a four-month language barrier. I expect to sometimes be so wrapped up in life there that I don't think of Calvin or Iowa or camp at all. I think those are okay things to expect--but I want to be willing to discard even these assumptions.
My prayer for this semester is that God would reveal Himself. My prayer for this semester is that I would not settle. My prayer for this semester is that my perspective would be shifted and broadened and challenged and adjusted, and that in the process it would become more True. I hunger to see Glory. I pray for that this semester.
My prayer is the same for you: that you would see His glory, and that it would amaze you, humble you, and transform you.
Man. Here we go!
I am so excited. This program encompasses pretty much everything I am passionate about: the Church, international development, Eastern Europe, environmental stewardship, outdoor education, civil society, international political affairs, youth, backpacking... yeah. And on top of that, the path to the semester in Romania with Northwestern appeared so easily and naturally in my life that I cannot help but believe God opened the door. Now I am excited--more than excited, actually--to run through it. I'm trying to leave without expectations, a blank page where God can write, but I also cannot help but have them. I expect this semester to change me. I expect it to challenge me. I expect to fall in love with some parts of life in Romania, to barely suppress my frustration with other parts, and to not understand everything. I expect to meet God. I expect to meet people who inspire me; I expect to meet people who counter me. I expect to miss people from home and to be lonely occasionally and to be frustrated by a four-month language barrier. I expect to sometimes be so wrapped up in life there that I don't think of Calvin or Iowa or camp at all. I think those are okay things to expect--but I want to be willing to discard even these assumptions.
My prayer for this semester is that God would reveal Himself. My prayer for this semester is that I would not settle. My prayer for this semester is that my perspective would be shifted and broadened and challenged and adjusted, and that in the process it would become more True. I hunger to see Glory. I pray for that this semester.
My prayer is the same for you: that you would see His glory, and that it would amaze you, humble you, and transform you.
Man. Here we go!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
On the edge of my seat.
You know when you're so excited about something, and have been waiting so long for something to happen, that when it finally comes you feel like it's maybe all a dream?
Yeah. I can't sleep. And tomorrow is just orientation.
Romania!!!!
Yeah. I can't sleep. And tomorrow is just orientation.
Romania!!!!
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