Small victories.

Walking to school this morning was quite an adventure.  I had spent the morning at home with Mădălina, making more clothes for her paper dolls (including a lumberjack shirt… I was proud of that one) and headed into town about noon.  On the way, the woman who came to the farm to help Andreea harvest potatoes on Saturday called out to me from the garden, asking if Mădălina was feeling better.  I replied that she was going back to school tomorrow, and went on my way happily, really excited about the successful conversation in Romanian.

Then I got to the bridge.  Halfway across, an adorable little old man stopped me (which is strange—usually people respond to my buna ziua with a muttered greeting but little else).  Anyway, our conversation went something like this:

Little old man:  Something fast and incomprehensible.

Me:  Blank look, followed by, Uh… nu vorbesc fuarte mult româneste…

Little old man:  Laughter and a knowing smile, followed by a question about why I’m here if I don’t speak Romanian (good point, little old man).

I went on to explain that I was studying with Fundaţia Noi Orizonturi (and going to şcoala); he asked where I lived and I said I was staying with a family halfway up Straja; we were making conversation pretty well (!!) and then came the inevitable question:

Little old man:  Tu eşti singură?

Me:  Nu!

I couldn’t help but smile as he shook my hand, though, and we parted ways.  I don’t really want to be set up with a Romanian boyfriend… at all.  But apparently it’s high on everyone’s priority list, because every adult Romanian I meet asks me—within the first five minutes—whether I’m getting married anytime soon. 

(Can I go on a brief tangent about gender relations, by the way?  I’ve been noticing parts of the patriarchy [or whatever you call it] in my IMPACT club.  Whenever a guy arrives, he comes in to the room and circles around, greeting the other guys with a handshake and a cao, but mostly ignoring all the girls in the room.  The same happens when they leave—everyone says goodbye, but only the guys get the individual acknowledgment.  It’s not a big deal; other than that, the guys and girls interact like guys and girls anywhere… it’s just an interesting observation.  Anyway.  Back to this morning’s walk.)

I was almost at the IMPACT building when suddenly I heard an ominous sound: snarling and barking, the skittering of dog paws, and panting breath coming up quickly from behind me.  I froze, my heart thumping so hard you could probably see it through my four shirts (it was cold this morning, okay?).  Immediately I was surrounded by a pack of dogs, angrily chasing each other up the street, coming within a half inch of me as they sprinted after each other.  Everyone else on the street froze too, watching apprehensively as the snarling herd wrestled briefly and then dispersed, each skulking off in their own direction.  A woman a few meters away from me had grabbed her daughter close when the dogs came up, yanking her in protectively, probably prepared to shield her eyes at the inevitable mauling of the American… which I had braced myself for too.  But they passed me.  Hallelujah.  I opened my eyes, looked at the nervous daughter-clutching woman next to me, and thought about kissing the ground.

What a walk...