Okay, maybe we need a little more than love. Food, air, water... there are some other things that matter too.
But the longer I work with the kids in our IMPACT club, the longer I work at this office, the longer I live in this town full of lonely people with beautiful stories begging to be told, the more I think that this article gets it right.
Please read it. Really.
In case you don't have time, here's the important take-away. Love, which is not only the Christian virtue and greatest commandment, but also a way of speaking and behaving that communicates value and worth, really matters. In fact, in social science, studies indicate that "love" is an "independent variable that varies inversely with negative individual, social, and civic outcomes and directly with positive individual and pro-social, pro-civic outcomes: lower rates of abuse and neglect, higher rates of self-esteem and self-confidence and more positive educational results."
In other words, kids who know they are loved do better. In tons of ways.
So here's to loving our IMPACT kids -- even in these last few crunch weeks before Christmas, when we're all tired and cold and ready for a break.
We'll keep you posted. But for now, the reminder of Michael Gerson's article is sticking with me.
Tuesday, December 2, 2014
Sunday, November 30, 2014
Advent.
We haven't written in a while, though I have composed a whole set of blog posts in my head while walking through Lupeni, of course... they just vanish when I try to write them down. So in lieu of some sort of profound reflections about our life in Romania right now, let me just post a few pictures. Of our Christmas decorations.
Now, in my defense, we have never gotten to decorate for Christmas before. This is our third Christmas as a married couple, but so far, nothin'. The first year we were packing up to move to Romania, and anything that couldn't fit into four large suitcases was already boxed and in our parents' basements... including decorations. I think I remember drawing a Christmas tree on a piece of paper and taping it to the wall that year. And sticking a few fallen pine boughs in a vase. But that was it. Other things -- packing, namely, but more importantly soaking in our last few weeks in the States with family and friends -- seemed more important. And they were.
Last year, we went back to the U.S. at the end of November, missing Advent in Romania entirely, returning on January 2, just in time to watch the rest of town take down their decorations. We got our fill of beautiful and festive staying with family and friends for the season in the States, but our own apartment stayed the same.
So this year, we're not leaving Romania until December 15, which means we're here for half of Advent. And I am determined to not miss it. So today, on this first Sunday of Advent, Jack and I put up our tiny assortment of, um, decorations. (Not much has changed from year 1, actually...). We have a Nativity set I received as a gift after doing an IMPACT training in Haiti. (We conveniently placed our star-shaped lantern overhead like a big red paper "star of Bethlehem...") We have a homemade Advent wreath with four candles from the supermarket taped to a plate, entwined with fallen pine branches, which I collected from the debris of a recent logging operation near the ropes course on Straja. The rest of the fallen pine branches have been stuffed into the dirt of a pot once holding lettuce plants (now dead), and form a makeshift Christmas tree. We had to use sticks to hold them up, and the decorations are limited to 1 string of lights, a piece of red string, a handmade paper star, and a few gaudy silver earrings. The earrings were brought to me a few weeks ago by the girls from girls' group -- they were part of a recent charitable shipment of used clothing from Iceland, which was given to members of our church -- who (oops!) don't wear earrings because it is frowned upon in this branch of Pentecostalism. I still wear earrings (though not usually to church) so the girls figured I might be able to use the collection, unwanted by the rest of the church ladies. The dangliest, gaudiest ones now adorn our tree.
So... yeah. It might not be classy, but it's cozy. And I love it.
Now, in my defense, we have never gotten to decorate for Christmas before. This is our third Christmas as a married couple, but so far, nothin'. The first year we were packing up to move to Romania, and anything that couldn't fit into four large suitcases was already boxed and in our parents' basements... including decorations. I think I remember drawing a Christmas tree on a piece of paper and taping it to the wall that year. And sticking a few fallen pine boughs in a vase. But that was it. Other things -- packing, namely, but more importantly soaking in our last few weeks in the States with family and friends -- seemed more important. And they were.
Last year, we went back to the U.S. at the end of November, missing Advent in Romania entirely, returning on January 2, just in time to watch the rest of town take down their decorations. We got our fill of beautiful and festive staying with family and friends for the season in the States, but our own apartment stayed the same.
So this year, we're not leaving Romania until December 15, which means we're here for half of Advent. And I am determined to not miss it. So today, on this first Sunday of Advent, Jack and I put up our tiny assortment of, um, decorations. (Not much has changed from year 1, actually...). We have a Nativity set I received as a gift after doing an IMPACT training in Haiti. (We conveniently placed our star-shaped lantern overhead like a big red paper "star of Bethlehem...") We have a homemade Advent wreath with four candles from the supermarket taped to a plate, entwined with fallen pine branches, which I collected from the debris of a recent logging operation near the ropes course on Straja. The rest of the fallen pine branches have been stuffed into the dirt of a pot once holding lettuce plants (now dead), and form a makeshift Christmas tree. We had to use sticks to hold them up, and the decorations are limited to 1 string of lights, a piece of red string, a handmade paper star, and a few gaudy silver earrings. The earrings were brought to me a few weeks ago by the girls from girls' group -- they were part of a recent charitable shipment of used clothing from Iceland, which was given to members of our church -- who (oops!) don't wear earrings because it is frowned upon in this branch of Pentecostalism. I still wear earrings (though not usually to church) so the girls figured I might be able to use the collection, unwanted by the rest of the church ladies. The dangliest, gaudiest ones now adorn our tree.
So... yeah. It might not be classy, but it's cozy. And I love it.
The Nativity under the guiding star. And lights in the avocado plant, yes.
The coolest Nativity ever -- with a coconut for a stable! Thanks, IMPACT Haiti.
Our Advent wreath, in front of our Christmas... tree... bush... thing.
We were interrupted from decorating by fireworks directly across the street, launched from the park there. (You can faintly see the smokestack and the church on the left of this picture.) It was a great surprise, presumably for tomorrow -- December 1 is Romania's equivalent of July 4.
And here is the lovely tree. Hee hee. :)
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
The results are in.
So, as many of you know from reading our slightly election-obsessed blog, the Romanian presidential run-off happened on Sunday. And on Monday morning, to our surprise, we woke to find the results: Klaus Iohannis the winner, Victor Ponta a gracious loser.
We were giddy.
Not because Iohannis is so great, really. As this article points out masterfully (seriously, read it!), his electoral platform is largely focused on continued economic growth and liberalization, trying to help Romania move more closely into the European Union and the capitalist systems that guide it, with few social programs addressing the poor -- of which Romania has many. He won't be a perfect president, and perhaps not even a very good one. But still, we were glad.
Why? Because it felt like even more than Iohannis, the Romanian people won this election. They won it through street protests and Facebook posts, through get-out-the-vote campaigns and public advocacy. Through hours of standing line for the thousands who live and vote abroad, and through long chilly public marches in big cities around the country. The voice of active citizens was raised in this election, voter turnout jumped to about 60%, and that is something great. Sure, it is less satisfying to be protesting simply in opposition of something known to be bad, without a great alternative to be for. And yet, it still is a victory, and one that makes me proud of the budding democracy we currently call home.
There are plenty of other undercurrents that darken this scene -- the divide between middle-class and educated Romanians and the poorer, less-educated parts of the country being the primary one (again, read this article!). Social media comments in this vein have been somewhat ugly lately, particularly one I recently saw directed at the Jiu Valley (where every city voted for Ponta, although pretty much the rest of Transylvania voted for Iohannis). The writer accused people in the Jiu Valley of being hicks, backwards and dumb, not deserving to be considered part of Transylvania. And that's ugly, and unfair, and stings a bit -- even though perhaps some of it has glimpses of truth, in the fact that education levels are generally lower here, and votes are more easily bought by a sack of potatoes when your family is hungry, as plenty of families here are. But it's also not true, judging by the thoughtfulness of our friends here, and by the other comments from people in Lupeni who reacted to an online photo of the mayor passing out bags of food in exchange for a Ponta vote with cries of "Shame!" and "We've voted out Ponta, now let's vote out Resmeriţa (Lupeni's mayor)!"
It's an ugly mix, and there are many factors at play, so none of this can be simplified to an easy right or wrong. But what is right, and what does make me smile, is to see Romanians voting, speaking up on behalf of what they believe, working together to bring about change. So now we pray for continued solidarity, for grace and real listening and cooperation, and for the hard work of democracy to be done well.
We were giddy.
Not because Iohannis is so great, really. As this article points out masterfully (seriously, read it!), his electoral platform is largely focused on continued economic growth and liberalization, trying to help Romania move more closely into the European Union and the capitalist systems that guide it, with few social programs addressing the poor -- of which Romania has many. He won't be a perfect president, and perhaps not even a very good one. But still, we were glad.
Why? Because it felt like even more than Iohannis, the Romanian people won this election. They won it through street protests and Facebook posts, through get-out-the-vote campaigns and public advocacy. Through hours of standing line for the thousands who live and vote abroad, and through long chilly public marches in big cities around the country. The voice of active citizens was raised in this election, voter turnout jumped to about 60%, and that is something great. Sure, it is less satisfying to be protesting simply in opposition of something known to be bad, without a great alternative to be for. And yet, it still is a victory, and one that makes me proud of the budding democracy we currently call home.
There are plenty of other undercurrents that darken this scene -- the divide between middle-class and educated Romanians and the poorer, less-educated parts of the country being the primary one (again, read this article!). Social media comments in this vein have been somewhat ugly lately, particularly one I recently saw directed at the Jiu Valley (where every city voted for Ponta, although pretty much the rest of Transylvania voted for Iohannis). The writer accused people in the Jiu Valley of being hicks, backwards and dumb, not deserving to be considered part of Transylvania. And that's ugly, and unfair, and stings a bit -- even though perhaps some of it has glimpses of truth, in the fact that education levels are generally lower here, and votes are more easily bought by a sack of potatoes when your family is hungry, as plenty of families here are. But it's also not true, judging by the thoughtfulness of our friends here, and by the other comments from people in Lupeni who reacted to an online photo of the mayor passing out bags of food in exchange for a Ponta vote with cries of "Shame!" and "We've voted out Ponta, now let's vote out Resmeriţa (Lupeni's mayor)!"
It's an ugly mix, and there are many factors at play, so none of this can be simplified to an easy right or wrong. But what is right, and what does make me smile, is to see Romanians voting, speaking up on behalf of what they believe, working together to bring about change. So now we pray for continued solidarity, for grace and real listening and cooperation, and for the hard work of democracy to be done well.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
Election update.
If you’re sick of hearing about the HUGE CHANGES after the
US midterm elections, why not indulge your secret interest in a different
country’s elections? Say, Romania’s? You know you want to.
Anyways. The first round of elections is over for now! We
only had to look at candidates’ faces for a month before this election (sorry,
US residents). The Monday after the election, the posters came down—at least
the ones whose candidates didn’t make it to the RUNOFF.
So, on the 2nd, Victor Ponta won 40.44% of the
vote and Klaus Iohannis won 30.37%. The next four candidates won 5-3% each. In case
you didn’t read Kelly’s previous post, Ponta is the current prime minister and
the leader of the Social Democrats Party (PSD), which is the old Romanian Communist
Party. Iohannis is ethnically German and the current mayor of Sibiu, one of
Romania’s coolest cities (in our opinion). In Lupeni, Ponta won 55%, and Iohannis 15.43% (the mayor is in Ponta's party and they like to do these somber marches through the city at election time). In our county, Hunedoara, Ponta won 43.59% and Iohannis 31.64%. Hunedoara was the only county in Transylvania where Ponta won the vote.
What we hear about Ponta is that he buys votes (take a
picture of your ballot with a vote for him and his party sends you 50 lei),
plagiarized 85 pages of his doctoral thesis, and that his gang controls
governmental decisions through money and threats. One of our friends keeps
posting these sorts of incriminating things on facebook. Her latest was a letter written by some local Orthodox priests that was posted around cities
south of Bucharest asking voters to “vote with God in their hearts and
minds… for Victor Ponta, because only he supports the church, not the ‘lifta străină,’ Iohannis!” Apparently “lifta
străină” is a fairly negative
Orthodox term for someone of another faith. Kind of like saying, “Don’t vote
for that Lutheran dog who also happens to be a foreigner, Iohannis." Great
stuff.
What we’ve heard about Iohannis is that he’s German, so that's an interesting twist (Romania has a history of pretty good kings from Germany), but that
he owns 6 houses that he says he bought using money he made by tutoring (he’s
also a physics teacher), not by stealing government money. When asked why no
other teacher makes enough money to buy 6 houses, he apparently responded,
“Tough luck.” Uh-oh.
Most of our friends voted for Iohannis because they think he
represents a change in the status quo and that even if he’s not a perfect
candidate, he’s better than Ponta and the PSD. But they think Ponta will win.
He has the Orthodox church’s support, he has the poor voters’ support, and a
majority in Parliament. Iohannis has the young, educated vote and an optimistic
campaign (his slogans: “Yes, we can!” and “A Romania of things well done.”)
We were just in Timișoara, the university city where the revolution of 1989 began, and saw a demonstration against Ponta. It was a bit crazy to see a crowd standing in front of the opera house yelling "Jos Ponta, jos Ponta!" (down with Ponta), in the same place where even more people had yelled, "Jos Ceaușescu!" 25 years before. A guy asked me if I knew what was going on, and when I told him that I didn't really want Ponta to be president, he asked me to say it on his video camera. I don't have a vote here, but I guess I was given a voice.
The runoff is scheduled for this Sunday. We’ll see how it
goes. Apparently a lot of Romanians living in London and Paris had to stand in
line for hours to vote at the embassy. Many people speculate that the PSD made
it hard for the Romanian diaspora to vote since they’re sure they won’t vote
for them. Ponta’s response was that only a few hundred thousand voted anyways,
so it’s not a big deal.
As my mom and I were emailing about the election, she wrote,
“In some ways politics are not
much different here. Politicians "buy" votes with promises instead of
cash. Political parties try to make voting more difficult or restrictive with 'rules' to prevent voter fraud. All this can have both a good and a
bad side. Like most things in life... our greatest strength can also be our
greatest weakness.” Well said, mom.
Mainly, we’re praying for a free and fair election, that
even though many factors are being used to influence Romania to vote one way or
another, that Romania would vote for the candidate they think will govern them
well. I think that an underlying sentiment is something along the lines of, “We’ve
survived a lot of rotten governments, but we’re still Romanians, and we’re
still alive and kicking.”
Tuesday, October 28, 2014
Election time.
Presidential elections in Romania are being held next week (November 2 to be precise), and I have to admit, I have more than a bit of curiosity about what's going to happen. There are election posters plastered everywhere in Lupeni (it seems a peculiar aesthetic to me, but often people will put up 20 of the exact same poster, side by side, creating a strange sort of wallpaper across their businesses' front windows... all the same blank stare and half-smile of some politician, over and over and over again). There are huge banners draped across the main street, sometimes two different ones fighting it out at opposing angles on intersections. (Unfortunately this includes a banner right in front of our apartment, featuring the notorious and slightly bulbous mayor of Lupeni endorsing the current prime minister, Victor Ponta, in his presidential bid. I have to say, it's not the most beautiful thing to see out our window first thing in the morning. Oh well, at least it's been foggy lately.)
The posters are interesting to me for a lot of reasons, but mainly because I'm not sure how much popular support they really represent. The other day I stopped in at a sandwich shop next to the office, where we've slowly been getting to know one of the employees. As I waited for my lunch, I asked her about the Ponta signs that were blocking the daylight, covering the entire shop window. "Are you voting for him?" I asked. "Oh no," she replied. "I'm not sure who I am voting for yet, but probably not Ponta." Quizzically I looked at the posters and then looked back at her. "So why do you have all the Ponta posters up then?" "Ahh... trebuie," she said -- trebuie being a word that basically means, "I had to."
I've told this story to a few Romanian friends and none of them looked surprised. Things like being pressured by the local mayor's political party to put up posters supporting that party's candidate, which strike me as pretty undemocratic and fraudulent, don't raise a whole lot of eyebrows among our friends. Not that they like it -- but it just seems pretty run-of-the-mill. Last night we had a bunch of friends over for dinner, and (instigator as I am, whoops) I asked about the election. In the course of the conversation all of them mentioned things like "poor people being bought off" (or not even bought off, just given one free meal!) in exchange for a vote in a particular direction. They weren't convinced that any of the candidates -- and there are a lot of them -- were above tactics like this, though they had tentative hopes about a few of the people running.
The one candidate who seems to be inspiring the most cautious optimism, at least among my friends here, is the current mayor of Sibiu, Klaus Iohannis. His motto is "Romania lucrului bine facut," or "the Romania of things well done," and I have to admit, I find his website and campaign promises more interesting than some of the others I have seen -- not that I have done as much research as I should, since I can't actually vote next week. (Lame excuse, I know.) Plenty of people have plenty of legitimate questions about Iohannis, so I'm certainly not trying to say he's perfect. But I find him promising, and curious, because in talking about him with friends, plenty of people have also said something along the lines of, "Well, he's German, so that's good."
I find that so incredibly interesting, and a little troubling. To make sense of it, let me explain something really quickly -- Romania historically has had a number of German kings, and many little pockets of Saxons, including in and around Sibiu -- people of German ancestry who brought much of their culture with them and lived in ethnic enclaves within Romania. Today they are mostly integrated, and you certainly hear more Romanian than German on the streets of Sibiu (though if you only spoke German you could probably get along okay there too). There are other similar ethnic groups in Romania, most notably the Hungarians -- but unlike the Hungarians, with whom there is still some tension, it seems that the Saxons have always been admired. The German villages in Romania are cute and tidy, and I have heard Romanian friends say many times, "Well, the Germans can keep their towns clean" -- as if it's something in the blood, or inherent to Germans -- and by association, apparently not inherent to Romanians. This sucks. I get it -- I understand where this disappointment and apathy comes from, or at least can guess at a few of its historical sources. But this sort of diminishing of their own history, culture, and national potential that so many Romanians demonstrate, and which appears in SO many forms (brain drain, adoption of Western holidays in place of Romanian ones, low voter turnout, civic disengagement, moving abroad)... it makes me so, so sad.
It makes me sad for two reasons. One, in the last year I have traveled to a lot of places (nine countries, to be exact, and that's not counting layovers). And not one of them -- including the United States -- is perfect. To believe that they are, or even that they are significantly better than here -- is a lie, and bound to disappoint. They may be fighting different battles, but each place has its own battles to fight.
And two, I love this place. I love living here. I am happy here. Sure, it has its hard moments, but life in Michigan had plenty of hard moments too. And so I don't like hearing people say that Romania sucks, and I feel a lot of weight about the decision to possibly leave here and go back to the US. I know that we cannot, by staying, necessarily ascribe value to this place. But I also wonder if leaving reinforces the message that life was better -- is better -- somewhere else.
I've wandered off the topic of elections by now, I suppose, but in my mind all of this is related. If Klaus Iohannis wins, I hope and pray he really claims his Romanian-ness and helps people love and believe in a Romania of things well done. If Victor Ponta or any of the other candidates win, I hope they can also help Romanians feel pride in their country, optimism about the future, and some measure of trust in their own agency.
That's my prayer for this election.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
IMPACT, round two.
We've started our second year (our first full year) of IMPACT this month, and it's already so much better than last time around.
We joined our IMPACT club as leaders in early March 2014. At the time, the club -- which had traditionally been a club for high school students -- was trying to recruit new members, as its numbers had dwindled. But somehow they got confused and ended up promoting their club to a class full of fifth graders, who then all showed up. We started helping as leaders just two weeks before the fifth graders arrived, and the leader who we had come to replace left shortly thereafter -- and so it was chaos, this crazy time of transition in which most of the older members left, exasperated at having their club overrun by a bunch of 12-year-olds. (And understandably so... some days we felt the same!)
Thankfully, three fabulous junior leaders stuck it out and stayed with us through the painful transition. The kids, hyper and dysfunctional as they were, did a project that we were really proud of. And by the time we took a break for the summer, I was almost sorry to see them go.
So in September we had our kickoff, after two months of quiet, and it was wild and fun and encouraging and discouraging, all wrapped into one. Now we've settled into the regular weekly rhythm of meetings -- every Wednesday from 7 to 9, some Mondays too when we need them -- and it's about the same. It's almost all the same kids, and we know them better, and they know us. I care about them more than I thought would be possible... it's just fun to be with them, and I am thankful for that.
And we're better leaders, too. We have fallen into a better rhythm of meeting ahead of time with our junior leaders, face-to-face instead of just planning over Facebook messages, and that works better and lets us feel more prepared. Last week the kids made maps of Lupeni representing all the things they thing are strengths and weaknesses of the community. Tonight they'll do skits acting out the things they think are problems as a way to try and analyze the problems' causes and effects. After that we'll choose one of the problems and build a service-learning project off of it -- we'll keep you posted on how it goes! And on Saturday we're heading up to the ropes course, with fingers crossed for good weather, to spend a day bonding as a group. Or that's what we're hoping for at least.
It just feels less frantic this year. We still make mistakes in Romanian, and Jack and I still debrief every meeting all the way home, including a lot of, "Um, let's not do that again." The kids still have attention spans of about 3 minutes before one of them punches another or interrupts or makes a rude joke. But we're making progress, slowly but surely, and I don't fear going anymore... in fact, I actually look forward to it.
So here's to IMPACT... and to us growing into it as we enter this second year.
We joined our IMPACT club as leaders in early March 2014. At the time, the club -- which had traditionally been a club for high school students -- was trying to recruit new members, as its numbers had dwindled. But somehow they got confused and ended up promoting their club to a class full of fifth graders, who then all showed up. We started helping as leaders just two weeks before the fifth graders arrived, and the leader who we had come to replace left shortly thereafter -- and so it was chaos, this crazy time of transition in which most of the older members left, exasperated at having their club overrun by a bunch of 12-year-olds. (And understandably so... some days we felt the same!)
Thankfully, three fabulous junior leaders stuck it out and stayed with us through the painful transition. The kids, hyper and dysfunctional as they were, did a project that we were really proud of. And by the time we took a break for the summer, I was almost sorry to see them go.
So in September we had our kickoff, after two months of quiet, and it was wild and fun and encouraging and discouraging, all wrapped into one. Now we've settled into the regular weekly rhythm of meetings -- every Wednesday from 7 to 9, some Mondays too when we need them -- and it's about the same. It's almost all the same kids, and we know them better, and they know us. I care about them more than I thought would be possible... it's just fun to be with them, and I am thankful for that.
And we're better leaders, too. We have fallen into a better rhythm of meeting ahead of time with our junior leaders, face-to-face instead of just planning over Facebook messages, and that works better and lets us feel more prepared. Last week the kids made maps of Lupeni representing all the things they thing are strengths and weaknesses of the community. Tonight they'll do skits acting out the things they think are problems as a way to try and analyze the problems' causes and effects. After that we'll choose one of the problems and build a service-learning project off of it -- we'll keep you posted on how it goes! And on Saturday we're heading up to the ropes course, with fingers crossed for good weather, to spend a day bonding as a group. Or that's what we're hoping for at least.
It just feels less frantic this year. We still make mistakes in Romanian, and Jack and I still debrief every meeting all the way home, including a lot of, "Um, let's not do that again." The kids still have attention spans of about 3 minutes before one of them punches another or interrupts or makes a rude joke. But we're making progress, slowly but surely, and I don't fear going anymore... in fact, I actually look forward to it.
So here's to IMPACT... and to us growing into it as we enter this second year.
A few pictures from the first meetings of the year:
The bistro.
Some of you might know about my secret dream of opening a local food cafe in Lupeni. I'm a little obsessed with the idea, though still in the dreamy-wouldn't-it-be-great way, not the getting-down-to-business way. We'll see if it progresses.
But! Those of you who have heard me ramble on about my love for little restaurants will understand my excitement about this new arrival in Lupeni: the Passage Bistro! (I know, the name is weird.) It's a small little restaurant that just opened last week in an old children's clothing store that had gone out of business, and it's about halfway from our apartment to the office. It's smoky and plays Kiss FM music videos too loudly for my taste, but I am still thrilled that it's here. (And only in small part because they serve fabulous eggplant salad and warm naan-like bread for an amazingly cheap price... though yes, that's part of it.)
The Bistro is exciting to me because it's a sign of hope. It's a sign of investment in a community that so often has people shaking their heads in doubt at its future prospects. I am not one to think that micro-business and economic growth are the magic tickets to a flourishing community -- but after living here for the last year and a half, I have become a firm subscriber to the idea that economic opportunities are an absolutely vital part of holistic and sustainable community growth. So many kids have told us that their goal is to move away someday, and when we press them on why, it almost always comes down to one thing: there aren't jobs here. (And it's boring. But I think those two usually go hand-in-hand.)
So the Bistro is, to me, this tiny, smoke-wreathed, noisy beacon of hope. The food isn't amazing, and it's not the coziest place I've ever seen, but it's a bit more modern than the other two restaurants in this town of 20,000 people. It brings the total options for a date night up to three. (Woohoo!) It, along with the Chill Lounge that opened last year (yeah, the names, I know) are these little enterprises that bring people together over food and drink and offer them somewhere fun, something to do, somewhere to work, somewhere to go.
The Bistro also seems to be sparking some good ol' capitalist competition, which is kind-of fun to observe. There are a few places in town that aren't restaurants but do serve delivery lunches -- the "meniu zilei" (menu of the day) brought to your door in a styrofoam takeout container. Usually they contain soup, four rolls (!), a hearty main course of meat and potatoes or some equivalent, a small side salad, and a little dessert. The price range is usually around 12 lei, or about $3.50. It's a popular thing at our office, and probably elsewhere too. The companies leave printed leaflets in apartment stairwells with the week's menu and a phone number, and you can call and have them deliver any time of day.
Well, recently the Bistro's meniu zilei flyer also arrived in our office stairwell, and soon there were flyers from other companies posted next to it. And then, next thing you know, they're both offering "economic portions" for those who don't want such an enormous lunch. (The current race for bargains is between Noemi, which offers a smaller lunch for 8 lei, including dessert, and the Bistro for 9.50 with no dessert. I am watching to see if the Bistro ups its game and cuts its price next week... or adds dessert...!) I'm not hoping for some sort of race to the bottom, and I can't imagine that the companies selling their lunches for such tiny sums are making a big enough profit margin to pay their employees fabulous salaries, so this is certainly not the most perfect case study. But regardless, it's fun to watch, and exciting to see these sparks of entrepreneurship in a town that so desperately need them.
Plus, it's a good reason to go out for lunch.
But! Those of you who have heard me ramble on about my love for little restaurants will understand my excitement about this new arrival in Lupeni: the Passage Bistro! (I know, the name is weird.) It's a small little restaurant that just opened last week in an old children's clothing store that had gone out of business, and it's about halfway from our apartment to the office. It's smoky and plays Kiss FM music videos too loudly for my taste, but I am still thrilled that it's here. (And only in small part because they serve fabulous eggplant salad and warm naan-like bread for an amazingly cheap price... though yes, that's part of it.)
The Bistro is exciting to me because it's a sign of hope. It's a sign of investment in a community that so often has people shaking their heads in doubt at its future prospects. I am not one to think that micro-business and economic growth are the magic tickets to a flourishing community -- but after living here for the last year and a half, I have become a firm subscriber to the idea that economic opportunities are an absolutely vital part of holistic and sustainable community growth. So many kids have told us that their goal is to move away someday, and when we press them on why, it almost always comes down to one thing: there aren't jobs here. (And it's boring. But I think those two usually go hand-in-hand.)
So the Bistro is, to me, this tiny, smoke-wreathed, noisy beacon of hope. The food isn't amazing, and it's not the coziest place I've ever seen, but it's a bit more modern than the other two restaurants in this town of 20,000 people. It brings the total options for a date night up to three. (Woohoo!) It, along with the Chill Lounge that opened last year (yeah, the names, I know) are these little enterprises that bring people together over food and drink and offer them somewhere fun, something to do, somewhere to work, somewhere to go.
The Bistro also seems to be sparking some good ol' capitalist competition, which is kind-of fun to observe. There are a few places in town that aren't restaurants but do serve delivery lunches -- the "meniu zilei" (menu of the day) brought to your door in a styrofoam takeout container. Usually they contain soup, four rolls (!), a hearty main course of meat and potatoes or some equivalent, a small side salad, and a little dessert. The price range is usually around 12 lei, or about $3.50. It's a popular thing at our office, and probably elsewhere too. The companies leave printed leaflets in apartment stairwells with the week's menu and a phone number, and you can call and have them deliver any time of day.
Well, recently the Bistro's meniu zilei flyer also arrived in our office stairwell, and soon there were flyers from other companies posted next to it. And then, next thing you know, they're both offering "economic portions" for those who don't want such an enormous lunch. (The current race for bargains is between Noemi, which offers a smaller lunch for 8 lei, including dessert, and the Bistro for 9.50 with no dessert. I am watching to see if the Bistro ups its game and cuts its price next week... or adds dessert...!) I'm not hoping for some sort of race to the bottom, and I can't imagine that the companies selling their lunches for such tiny sums are making a big enough profit margin to pay their employees fabulous salaries, so this is certainly not the most perfect case study. But regardless, it's fun to watch, and exciting to see these sparks of entrepreneurship in a town that so desperately need them.
Plus, it's a good reason to go out for lunch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)