Lovely.

I was on my way back from my IMPACT club in Petrila on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, the sun already beginning to set at 4:30, gray drizzle clouding the windows of the maxi taxi.  It had been a rough meeting -- the kids were great, but some tensions between two of my co-leaders had finally escalated into confrontation, and I wasn't sure how the issue would be resolved.  Georgiana and I were sitting in silence, listening to the crackly, ever-present techno-pop mix on the radio and lost in our own thoughts, when suddenly the lady in front of us turned around.

"Are we in Vulcan yet?" she asked, eyebrows raised, pleadingly.

"No -- about 15 minutes," I responded.  We were still in Petroşani, trundling slowly along the potholed road that turns right into the narrower part of the Jiu Valley where Vulcan, Lupeni, and Uricani are nestled.  She was confused, and understandably so -- she had apparently just arrived via bus from Bucureşti, a route which takes you on the same road we were now traversing, in the other direction.  "Weird," she grumbled.  "That doesn't make sense."  Georgiana and I shrugged.  It's just the way public transit works in the valley.

A minute later, we stopped on the side of the road to pick up two older gentlemen, their hat brims dripping rainwater.  "Is this Vulcan?" she asked again, louder, half-rising from her seat.  "No," the men chuckled as they moved toward the back of the bus, balanced precariously in the aisle.  "You still have awhile."

And so it continued, for the next 15 minutes.  The poor woman would rise from her seat, turn to the other passengers, and ask in increasingly agitated Romanian, "Is this Vulcan?"  And each time people would gently reassure her -- no, not yet.  Sit down; we still have a ways to go.

It was kind-of adorable, actually.  This poor woman had probably never been to the Jiu Valley before, and was very visibly panicked about getting lost in the rain in this mountainous place with bad roads and small towns.  But every single person on that maxi taxi was kind to her, chuckling gently and reassuring her -- "Don't worry.  We'll help you get off in the right place.  Just a little further."

It was one of those moments when I was unspeakably thankful for speaking Romanian.  I was so grateful to be able to witness and understand the kindness happening in that little vehicle, the humanity of those interactions, the vulnerability responded to with goodness.  When we pulled up to the first stop in Vulcan, half the maxi taxi turned to the woman and said, "This is it."  The rain-soaked men in the aisle stepped aside, and she hustled out into the drizzle, dragging a small suitcase behind her.  As the maxi taxi pulled away, I saw her burst into a grin and open her arms, running into the hug of the friend who was waiting to greet her.

Lovely.  People can be so lovely.