It is early Friday morning in Kansas City. Today, and tomorrow morning, will be devoted to the meetings of the board of directors at the Association of Collegiate Business Schools and Programs (ACBSP) here at the Marriott-Airport at KCI. Tomorrow afternoon I will go to Borders or B&N and buy some books (and to a supermarket to buy peanut butter), to take back to Cluj for my own use in teaching, and for my volunteer teaching assistant and serious scholar Lucian Bogdan. Early Sunday morning, I will head to the airport and catch a United Airlines flight to Washington-Dulles International Airport, where I will meet my beloved wife Shirley for our trip back to Cluj-Napoca.
Shirl is coming to Cluj! What shall I say to her, other than, "Thank you, I love you, I have missed you, and it will be wonderful to have you there to share with me all your perceptions of the beautiful city of Cluj, and the remarkable country that is Romania?" I should probably say that Romania is different from America, so do not be surprised by anything you see that seems strange at first sight. The ornate and stone-solid buildings with faded paint and crooked doors that characterize downtown Cluj. The ubiquitous fences that surround every home. The Dacia 1310s that seem to run forever, no matter how great the gaps between body and doors, hoods and trunk lids. The stylishly dressed women in the city, and the women in the country, who have no interest in other than traditional dress. The dour menfolk, who remind one in their faces that earning a living and supporting their families has been a lifelong struggle for most.
And I should tell Shirl about the Romanians' food. Their delicious soups, and the many ways Romanians prepare pork and chicken. The plentiful fresh produce and fruit. The myriad varieties of sausages. The concern of the people for the freshness of their food, and their distrust of leftovers. (In America we say that a split pea soup is at its best on the third day. In Romania a student friend looked at me as if I were crazy when I told him that. Home refrigeration is relatively new to the nation. They are used to shopping, and cooking what they buy, every day.
And I should warn Shirl not to be put off by the entrance to our old apartment block. It is right downtown, and is over a century old. The door is crooked (of course), and creaks as it opens onto the trash barrels. There may be a homeless man there. He comes at least once a week to comb through the trash bags. He may be seen eating what he has found. Then, there will be the 60-odd stairs that you must scale to reach the second floor above the street (third floor, in the U.S.) Fear them not, for they get much easier after a few days, once they become "the way home, and almost there."
And, my Love, I hope that you will like our apartment, for once there, you will find that the Moldovans have done a great job of making it graceful and cozy and modern in ways that are remarkable, indeed, in such a building. It is the nicest living space of any I have seen housing my fellow Fulbrighters in Romania.
I cannot wait to share Romania with you, the woman who means more to me than I know how to express. I know that the long flight across to Europe is a hard thing for you to face. I know that the prospect of a month away from our New Hampshire homestead, our dogs and our children is more than a little daunting. That is why I am so grateful to you for making the trip.
Romania, the Romanians, and I will work hard to make it all worthwhile.
Friday, February 27, 2009
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Inquiring minds want to know...
"How did a nation with only a 300-year history come to be a world leader?" "Is it true that America's leaders can precisely control the economy either upwards or downwards in order to prevent another Great Depression?"
I got some really good questions from my students today in my American Studies course. I like these students already. They are thinkers. This course is going to be a tonic!
I may be off the air for a few days, as I have to go to Kansas City tomorrow to attend another ACBSP meeting. But this time I will be meeting Shirl at Dulles and flying home to Cluj with my bride! Unless I get a chance to post from KC, catch you next week!
I got some really good questions from my students today in my American Studies course. I like these students already. They are thinkers. This course is going to be a tonic!
I may be off the air for a few days, as I have to go to Kansas City tomorrow to attend another ACBSP meeting. But this time I will be meeting Shirl at Dulles and flying home to Cluj with my bride! Unless I get a chance to post from KC, catch you next week!
Monday, February 23, 2009
Learning to Teach (and Vice-Versa)
It is Monday. A new semester has begun. My first class is tomorrow at the Faculty of European Studies, and will meet from 4:00 to 8:00 PM (with a break or two) in the Einstein Hall at a building that was once a synagogue, and which houses the faculty offices of the Hebrew Studies Department. My course is called American Economy and Business, and is part of the UBB American Studies Program.
This course will be a new prep for me. I am going to be learning along with my students, a common experience in my 28 years of teaching. I believe I have taught at least fifteen different courses, so taking on a new prep is not so daunting as it may seem to some. Look back in the archives, and you'll find a post called "The Hard Life of a Utility Infielder. I am so called by my chairman back at PSU.
So, wish me luck, dear readers, for I will soon learn if I am young enough still to do so!
This course will be a new prep for me. I am going to be learning along with my students, a common experience in my 28 years of teaching. I believe I have taught at least fifteen different courses, so taking on a new prep is not so daunting as it may seem to some. Look back in the archives, and you'll find a post called "The Hard Life of a Utility Infielder. I am so called by my chairman back at PSU.
So, wish me luck, dear readers, for I will soon learn if I am young enough still to do so!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Contrary Hypotheses
Graph of the ratio of Annualized Sales/Average Inventory for U.S. Manufacturers
Data source: The Economic Report of the President, 1999. U.S. Government Printing Office.
Today I shall make a new use of the blog. I will use it go on record as being aware of two possible weaknesses of an hypothesis that I have recently presented in an article just accepted for publication. I apologize to my regular readers if what follows proves to be boring stuff. It is excerpted from an e-mail sent this week to Dr. Willem Spanjers, head of the International Network for Economic Research (INFER) in the U.K.
Dear Dr. Spanjers:
I am most grateful for INFER's acceptance for publication of my article, "Operating at the Rate of Consumption: Did Inventory Reductions in U.S. Manufacturing Prevent Recessions During the 1990s?" ...
Just to make sure there is a record of my having thought about such things, I want to share with you two contrary hypotheses offering possible explanations for the behavior of manufacturing inventory turnover as described in my article, "Operating at the Rate of Consumption." Please comment, and then save this message in the INFER files, lest I ever have to demonstrate that I am a thinker as opposed to an ideologue, or manufacturing chauvinist. You may even want to consider publishing this missive in a newsletter, as these hypotheses might provide directions for research, should anyone decide to follow up on my piece.
Contrary Hypothesis No. 1: The increase in the ratio of Cost of Goods Sold to Inventory between 1982 and 1997 was the result of the shift of American manufacturers from FIFO to LIFO accounting, coupled with inflation of the US dollar during that period.
The apparently systematic and prolonged increase in the ratio of sales dollars to inventory value from 1982 through 1997, as seen in The Economic Report of the President and reported in my article, may be an accounting mirage that resulted in no way from, or only partly from increased physical turnover of goods in inventory at American manufacturers. Assuming no change in the average Gross Margin ratio of the manufacturing sector as a whole, the pattern of growth in Sales/Inventory as reported in the subject article would be matched closely by the pattern of growth in Inventory Turnover, defined as the ratio of Cost of Goods Sold (CGS) to Inventory. We know that there was during most of those years both inflation in the American dollar and a continuing tendency of American corporations to shift from First-In-First-Out (FIFO) accounting for the cost of goods sold to Last-In-First-Out (LIFO) accounting, done to reduce income taxes by increasing reported product costs to their inflated levels. The long term effect of this shift in accounting practice would be to relieve each year from inventory the current manufacturing costs of items sold, leaving in ending inventory records the less costly units made previously. This method of accounting was permitted for income tax purposes, and if employed for tax purposes, was required also on the financial statements. Hence, all companies employing LIFO accounting could be, ceteris parabus, expected to show increases in inventory turnover as their CGS inflated each year. I have little doubt that this hypothesis will explain in part the effect reported in "Operating at the Rate of Consumption." The interesting question is whether it explains it all.
Contrary Hypothesis No. 2: The increase in the ratio of Sales to Inventory between 1982 and 1997 in the United States was the result of the outsourcing of low-margin manufactures to other nations.
The apparently systematic and prolonged increase in the ratio of sales dollars to inventory value from 1982 through 1997, as seen in The Economic Report of the President and reported in my article, may be the effect of the export by American Industry of such low-margin industries as consumer electronics, shoemaking and textiles, leaving in the sector a higher-margin mix of manufactured goods, such as pharmaceuticals and software products. In other words, my use in the article of the proxy Sales/Inventory instead of Inventory Turnover (CGS/Inventory) may explain much or all of the observed change. If the export of low-margin industries has been continuing steadily since 1982, then the average gross margin (Sales - CGS) of America's manufacturing sector might have been increasing steadily, creating the observed effect.
In closing, I know that a clever researcher with sufficient time will be able to address both of these contrary hypotheses and demonstrate either their validity, or lack thereof. I have simply never found time to do so. I stand ready to discuss these and other related ideas with any who may wish to pursue them, and to encourage their efforts.
Sincerely yours,
Duncan C. McDougall
Plymouth State University,
Plymouth, New Hampshire, USA 03264
Data source: The Economic Report of the President, 1999. U.S. Government Printing Office.
Today I shall make a new use of the blog. I will use it go on record as being aware of two possible weaknesses of an hypothesis that I have recently presented in an article just accepted for publication. I apologize to my regular readers if what follows proves to be boring stuff. It is excerpted from an e-mail sent this week to Dr. Willem Spanjers, head of the International Network for Economic Research (INFER) in the U.K.
Dear Dr. Spanjers:
I am most grateful for INFER's acceptance for publication of my article, "Operating at the Rate of Consumption: Did Inventory Reductions in U.S. Manufacturing Prevent Recessions During the 1990s?" ...
Just to make sure there is a record of my having thought about such things, I want to share with you two contrary hypotheses offering possible explanations for the behavior of manufacturing inventory turnover as described in my article, "Operating at the Rate of Consumption." Please comment, and then save this message in the INFER files, lest I ever have to demonstrate that I am a thinker as opposed to an ideologue, or manufacturing chauvinist. You may even want to consider publishing this missive in a newsletter, as these hypotheses might provide directions for research, should anyone decide to follow up on my piece.
Contrary Hypothesis No. 1: The increase in the ratio of Cost of Goods Sold to Inventory between 1982 and 1997 was the result of the shift of American manufacturers from FIFO to LIFO accounting, coupled with inflation of the US dollar during that period.
The apparently systematic and prolonged increase in the ratio of sales dollars to inventory value from 1982 through 1997, as seen in The Economic Report of the President and reported in my article, may be an accounting mirage that resulted in no way from, or only partly from increased physical turnover of goods in inventory at American manufacturers. Assuming no change in the average Gross Margin ratio of the manufacturing sector as a whole, the pattern of growth in Sales/Inventory as reported in the subject article would be matched closely by the pattern of growth in Inventory Turnover, defined as the ratio of Cost of Goods Sold (CGS) to Inventory. We know that there was during most of those years both inflation in the American dollar and a continuing tendency of American corporations to shift from First-In-First-Out (FIFO) accounting for the cost of goods sold to Last-In-First-Out (LIFO) accounting, done to reduce income taxes by increasing reported product costs to their inflated levels. The long term effect of this shift in accounting practice would be to relieve each year from inventory the current manufacturing costs of items sold, leaving in ending inventory records the less costly units made previously. This method of accounting was permitted for income tax purposes, and if employed for tax purposes, was required also on the financial statements. Hence, all companies employing LIFO accounting could be, ceteris parabus, expected to show increases in inventory turnover as their CGS inflated each year. I have little doubt that this hypothesis will explain in part the effect reported in "Operating at the Rate of Consumption." The interesting question is whether it explains it all.
Contrary Hypothesis No. 2: The increase in the ratio of Sales to Inventory between 1982 and 1997 in the United States was the result of the outsourcing of low-margin manufactures to other nations.
The apparently systematic and prolonged increase in the ratio of sales dollars to inventory value from 1982 through 1997, as seen in The Economic Report of the President and reported in my article, may be the effect of the export by American Industry of such low-margin industries as consumer electronics, shoemaking and textiles, leaving in the sector a higher-margin mix of manufactured goods, such as pharmaceuticals and software products. In other words, my use in the article of the proxy Sales/Inventory instead of Inventory Turnover (CGS/Inventory) may explain much or all of the observed change. If the export of low-margin industries has been continuing steadily since 1982, then the average gross margin (Sales - CGS) of America's manufacturing sector might have been increasing steadily, creating the observed effect.
In closing, I know that a clever researcher with sufficient time will be able to address both of these contrary hypotheses and demonstrate either their validity, or lack thereof. I have simply never found time to do so. I stand ready to discuss these and other related ideas with any who may wish to pursue them, and to encourage their efforts.
Sincerely yours,
Duncan C. McDougall
Plymouth State University,
Plymouth, New Hampshire, USA 03264
Friday, February 20, 2009
Romania Re-examined
A characteristic of the Romanian system of higher education is that students who have failed, or failed to take, their final examination in any course have the right to pay a special fee, and "re-take" it. This week is the time when those re-exams are being given for the undergraduate fall term courses at the Faculty of Economics.
Prodeacon Luţaş has explained that the rules, as written, state that only the value of the final examination in the course's grading scheme can be earned in this re-examination. Hence, I expect few students to come in today for my two re-examinations, for they are worth only 25% of their final marks, and few students who have failed can possibly pass simply by passing the re-examination.
I have learned, however, that in practice some, if not most, professors here weight the final examination at 70% to 100% of the student's grade. In a system where a 5 out of 10 is considered passing, this high weight enables semester-long no-shows to earn both a passing mark and full credit for the course after having "cut" 100% of both the lectures and the seminars during the term. So, arriving today at about 8:00, I entered a crowded lobby at FSEGA. Maybe there really are the reported 15,000 students enrolled at this faculty. Maybe we see half of them only during this final week of each semester.
Several pedagogical observations follow:
Prodeacon Luţaş has explained that the rules, as written, state that only the value of the final examination in the course's grading scheme can be earned in this re-examination. Hence, I expect few students to come in today for my two re-examinations, for they are worth only 25% of their final marks, and few students who have failed can possibly pass simply by passing the re-examination.
I have learned, however, that in practice some, if not most, professors here weight the final examination at 70% to 100% of the student's grade. In a system where a 5 out of 10 is considered passing, this high weight enables semester-long no-shows to earn both a passing mark and full credit for the course after having "cut" 100% of both the lectures and the seminars during the term. So, arriving today at about 8:00, I entered a crowded lobby at FSEGA. Maybe there really are the reported 15,000 students enrolled at this faculty. Maybe we see half of them only during this final week of each semester.
Several pedagogical observations follow:
- by making the final the whole grade, teachers are relieved of taking attendance,
- of grading any student papers or written work during the term,
- of grading a midterm exam, and
- of keeping records of those mid-course learning activities.
- Students, on the other hand, are relieved of doing any formal writing, and
- are free to work full time while enrolled in University.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Interim Report
Dr. Locaciu agreed that if my foot was already feeling much better, the cortisone might prove unnecessary. So today I stayed home to let my foot heal further, and made it a productive day by writing the required Interim Report on my Fulbright Year.
With the help of this Internet memory device called a Blog, I found the remembering and the writing quite easy. The difficulty came in gaining access to the CIES website's Senior Fulbright Reports page. It seems that my username is a five-digit serial number that was assigned me at the point of my being chosen for a grant. I searched for about 90 minutes through all the paperwork I have received from Washington and Bucharest, and could not find such a number. This morning I called Mihai at the Fulbright Commission in Bucharest, and asked him for my Serial Number. He begged off... that is something only Jean in Washington would know. Finally, at about 4:30 this afternoon, 9:30 EST, I telephoned Jean in Washington. Of course, the ever-efficient and supportive Jean McPeek gave me the missing number in about five seconds flat.
Mihai, when are you going to bring Jean to Romania? Did you know she has yet to come here? How about inviting her to Sibiu for our spring meeting?
Fortunately, Charles in Sibiu had shown me his Junior Fulbright Interim Report Form over the weekend, so I had been writing my report offline for much of the day, and happily, mine has now been submitted.
Just for the beauty of it, here is a picture of Cluj as seen from Hotel Belvedere, taken last November by Charles Harris. (Click on the picture to enlarge it.)
With the help of this Internet memory device called a Blog, I found the remembering and the writing quite easy. The difficulty came in gaining access to the CIES website's Senior Fulbright Reports page. It seems that my username is a five-digit serial number that was assigned me at the point of my being chosen for a grant. I searched for about 90 minutes through all the paperwork I have received from Washington and Bucharest, and could not find such a number. This morning I called Mihai at the Fulbright Commission in Bucharest, and asked him for my Serial Number. He begged off... that is something only Jean in Washington would know. Finally, at about 4:30 this afternoon, 9:30 EST, I telephoned Jean in Washington. Of course, the ever-efficient and supportive Jean McPeek gave me the missing number in about five seconds flat.
Mihai, when are you going to bring Jean to Romania? Did you know she has yet to come here? How about inviting her to Sibiu for our spring meeting?
Fortunately, Charles in Sibiu had shown me his Junior Fulbright Interim Report Form over the weekend, so I had been writing my report offline for much of the day, and happily, mine has now been submitted.
Just for the beauty of it, here is a picture of Cluj as seen from Hotel Belvedere, taken last November by Charles Harris. (Click on the picture to enlarge it.)
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Sensible Shoes
Plantar faciitis is a pain in the heel that comes from a hard landing, as in launching oneself off a desk on a classroom stage to catch a marker pen tossed to one by a student in the back row, or from walking normal Romanian distances of two-to-three miles a day when used to a sedentary American lifestyle.
The ailment had been in my left foot for over a month, and had not been getting better, causing me lots of pain and costing me lots of fun. My inability to walk without a severe limp finally caused me to tell Shirl about it, and she reacted wisely, nagging me into going to see a doctor. I asked at the Faculty, and learned that the good Dr. Dan Locaciu, Chief of Cluj's Clinic of Orthopaedics and Skeletal Trauma is a Rotarian, and as such a friend of my Prodeacon M. Luţaş. Mihaela arranged an appointment for me last Thursday. But then it snowed over most of Europe, and the doctor returned late from a conference in Warsaw, riding all night on that midnight bus from Budapest Airport, and having to operate on patients the next morning. So, my appointment of last Thursday had to be postponed, I had no relief this past weekend, and missed much of what's to see in Sibiu as a result.
Upon returning from Sibiu Sunday evening, I was sick of hurting, and thought to Google "Heel pain." Up popped plantar fasciitis. I went to the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons website, and learned a bit about the condition. Clearly it was the most likely diagnosis of my problem. I began self treatment as recommended by the AAOS . Ice, ibuprofen, stretching exercises and rest. The very next day, yesterday, I felt a distinct improvement. This morning, the day of my doctor's appointment, I had very little pain, and a much-reduced limp.
So, today Mihaela took me to meet Dr. Locaciu. Mihaela had told me he was not going to charge me. So, my first question of the good doctor was, "Do you play golf." "Yes, I do," he said. So I invited him to join me in a round at the Paul Tomiţa Golf Course in the spring. He accepted. It will be on my nickel.
After an examination and an X-ray (to rule out a worse condition), Dr. Locaciu confirmed my self-diagnosis, and prescribed fancy innersoles and a cortisone shot. Interestingly, one goes to the Farmacie oneself to buy the cortisone and anesthetic in Romania, and brings it back to the clinic for the shot.
The innersoles are working well. I've had a pain-free afternoon. I no longer fear going to the kitchen for a drink of water. I have suggested putting off the steroid shot, as I believe my heel is healing well without. Tomorrow I will hear the doctor's word on that, and take his advice.
At the office today I learned that my ailment has been common among American visitors to UBB. We really do walk a lot over here, and if we are not used to it, we pay the price.
My advice to future Fulbrighters coming to Romania, invest in a good pair of soft-soled walking shoes, and break them in before coming over. I didn't.
The ailment had been in my left foot for over a month, and had not been getting better, causing me lots of pain and costing me lots of fun. My inability to walk without a severe limp finally caused me to tell Shirl about it, and she reacted wisely, nagging me into going to see a doctor. I asked at the Faculty, and learned that the good Dr. Dan Locaciu, Chief of Cluj's Clinic of Orthopaedics and Skeletal Trauma is a Rotarian, and as such a friend of my Prodeacon M. Luţaş. Mihaela arranged an appointment for me last Thursday. But then it snowed over most of Europe, and the doctor returned late from a conference in Warsaw, riding all night on that midnight bus from Budapest Airport, and having to operate on patients the next morning. So, my appointment of last Thursday had to be postponed, I had no relief this past weekend, and missed much of what's to see in Sibiu as a result.
Upon returning from Sibiu Sunday evening, I was sick of hurting, and thought to Google "Heel pain." Up popped plantar fasciitis. I went to the American Academy of Orthopaedic Surgeons website, and learned a bit about the condition. Clearly it was the most likely diagnosis of my problem. I began self treatment as recommended by the AAOS . Ice, ibuprofen, stretching exercises and rest. The very next day, yesterday, I felt a distinct improvement. This morning, the day of my doctor's appointment, I had very little pain, and a much-reduced limp.
So, today Mihaela took me to meet Dr. Locaciu. Mihaela had told me he was not going to charge me. So, my first question of the good doctor was, "Do you play golf." "Yes, I do," he said. So I invited him to join me in a round at the Paul Tomiţa Golf Course in the spring. He accepted. It will be on my nickel.
After an examination and an X-ray (to rule out a worse condition), Dr. Locaciu confirmed my self-diagnosis, and prescribed fancy innersoles and a cortisone shot. Interestingly, one goes to the Farmacie oneself to buy the cortisone and anesthetic in Romania, and brings it back to the clinic for the shot.
The innersoles are working well. I've had a pain-free afternoon. I no longer fear going to the kitchen for a drink of water. I have suggested putting off the steroid shot, as I believe my heel is healing well without. Tomorrow I will hear the doctor's word on that, and take his advice.
At the office today I learned that my ailment has been common among American visitors to UBB. We really do walk a lot over here, and if we are not used to it, we pay the price.
My advice to future Fulbrighters coming to Romania, invest in a good pair of soft-soled walking shoes, and break them in before coming over. I didn't.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
In Sibiu
In Western Transylvania, 150 KM south-southeast of Cluj-Napoca, surrounded today by snowy peaks of the Carpathian mountains, is the 2007 European Capital of Culture, the city of Sibiu. In 2008 Sibiu was listed in Forbes.com as eighth on a list of "The most idyllic places to live in Europe." Here is that citation:
No. 8 Sibiu, Romania
In the heart of Transylvania lies Sibiu, an important but little known city of 160,000. Outside Romania, Transylvania is best known as the sinister setting of Bram Stoker's novel Dracula. Yet within Romania, the region is known for the outstanding beauty of its Carpathian mountain landscape and its rich and significant history. In 2007, Sibiu was the European capital of culture, and apartments surrounded by cobbled streets and pastel colored buildings can be picked up for under 50,000 euros ($65,000).
Those two international events of recognition may have altered forever the prices of real estate here, but they have not changed the city center's wonderful architecture. A high brick defensive wall dating from the 15th Century used to surround Sibiu. Large stretches of the wall still stand, perforated only by its original arched gateways, and punctuated by three large towers, which were once a total of thirty on the entire wall. Behind the wall are many medieval buildings built by Germans, who were for centuries Sibiu's dominant inhabitants. During the Dark Ages they called the city "Hermannsdorf" until it was destroyed by the Tatars in 1242. About 1350, the rebuilt town was mentioned in a document as "Hermannstadt," its German name, still. There is a significant Germanic population in the area, which explains the prominent Reformed Church (Lutheran) in Piaţa Huet, although since World War II the population of Ethnic Germans in Transylvania has shrunk by 90%, from over 400,000 to some 40,000. Still, however, it is not uncommon to meet Romanians in this region whose second language is German.Charles Harris is our resident Fulbrighter here, where he is teaching at Lucian Blaga University in Sibiu (ULBS). I drove down this morning the three hours from Cluj to see Charles, and to accept his invitation to show me around his city. We toured today, and will have dinner tonight with his Romanian friends from the Law School at ULBS, Sebastian and Anda Spinei.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Klaus' New Shoes
I awoke early and straightened up a bit, for at 9:00 I expected our friend and landlady Victoria Moldovan to visit, as Florin had called last night to tell me that she wanted to be here when the Gas Company men came to check the gas lines for proper installation. I did not realize it, but not only the refrigerator and microwave were new for our tenancy, but also the gas range and Junkers heater/hot water system. And after only six months, the gas company was here to make sure they weren't leaking.
By nine the place looked presentable, and I answered Victoria's ring of the doorbell. I offered coffee and a snack, but Victoria declined, and we sat in the kitchen and had a good chat. She is nervous today because her daughter-in-law in New Jersey is due any day to give her a grandchild. She will be flying to New York this weekend to spend two weeks with the young folks, and help her son Mihai and the new mother with their baby.
But life is a cycle. Victoria also told me the bad news that my next-door neighbor Gheorghe recently lost his 40 year-old daughter Dianna to leukemia. She was diagnosed only four months ago. Dianna's teen-aged daughter will now be living with her grandparents here in the building. I had noticed that Gheorghe had not looked himself the last couple of times I had seen him, but I hadn't known why.
Victoria stayed with the gas men when they came, while I went across the corner to mail a letter to Mihai Moroiu at the Fulbright Commission, then we both left the apartment for our respective day's business.
I went to the Faculty of Economics to turn in the first semester grades, then waited for the Erasmus student who had asked to meet me. He did not show up, but I got a start on one of the Self-Studies I need to read in preparation for my duties as an ACBSP commissioner. Then, on the way home, the adventures started.
I have owned Klaus now for five months and about 7000 Km. As I am a religious oil-changer in all my vehicles and other piston-powered machinery, I had bought six liters of ridiculously expensive oil for Klaus on Sunday, along with a filter two days earlier. I was planning to change his oil this week. But first, I decided to check out the route to the University apartments, where at 9:20 on Wednesday I had agreed to pick up Kathy O. and her luggage, and help her schlep them to her new apartment, which she has now rented. So, I mounted up the GPS, and it found the area for me. But the building I had seen Friday was nowhere in sight. A woman on Strada Propilor saw me looking around, and kindly asked me in Romanian and in German (Klaus' "D" license plates often educe that reaction) if she could help me find something. I asked in English if there were a Babeş-Bolyai apartment building nearby. She said "Da," then put one finger in the air to tell me to wait, and called her daughter from the house. The tall and nice-looking daughter turned out to be a law student at UBB who speaks English. She walked me half-a-block, and pointed out the white-and-blue buliding a block west and across the main street from where I was parked. Perfect. I knew where to come in the morning.
It's still early. Let's do some exploring of the west side on the way home. I am south of the Someşul Mic. But Klaus' parking lot at the Faculty of Letters is north of that river. I am at the west end of town, so I must head east, and cross the river. Let's follow that taxi, and take this left. Hmm. This seems to be a big parking lot of some kind. The taxi pulls off toward some big low buildings to the left. Keep driving south. There is a way out at the back of the lot. It seems iffy. But, the river is just at my right, so if I keep going I'll find a bridge. The pavement is getting rough. Good old Romanian potholes. Klaus knows how to dodge those. Oh, oh. It is now a mud road, and the holes are bigger in diameter, and filled with water. No telling how deep they are. Finally, there is no visible right-of-way ahead, so we turn around. As we retrace the muddy path, Klaus bottoms gently a time or three, but comes through it dirty but unscath... whoops. What is that scraping sound? Could it be the muffler dragging? We are back on the main street to downtown, and Klaus feels and sounds unhappy. Better turn off on a side road and check him out.
I pull over, put on the parking brake and flashers, and get out to look under the car. But no need to kneel. The left rear tire is flat as a pancake. "Whew." say I. "Just a flat." But it is rush hour, and I don't relish the idea of changing the tire in the street right now. Then I look at the store on my right, and it says, in Romanian, "Filter and Oil Changes." I go in and explain my predicament to the kindly, fat, 48-looking attendant. He does not understand, and thinks I need an oil change, right away. He finishes up the car in his one service bay. I go out and open the trunk, set up the reflective triangle, pull the spare tire out, and start to search for the jack and lug wrench. I remove the wheel cover, and discover that I do not have a 17mm wrench long enough to loosen the lug nuts. I go back into the shop to ask to borrow one, and my recent acquaintance motions me to bring my car into his newly empty bay, with a service pit in the middle. "OK," I say, because I could use the help, and wanted an oil change anyway. I can probably return the oil I bought, and I can use my new filter. And, most especially, I can change my tire in safety.
We succeed in finding Klaus' camoflaged jack and lug wrench, then get the like-new spare onto the axle, and tightened down. My friend goes to work draining the oil, and I go into the store (magazin) to buy the oil. I pick out the best... Mobil synthetic 5W-40, six liters. Big bucks. I whip out my BancaTransilvania VISA card. "Nu, nu," says the lady, "Cash. Only cash." She directs me to the nearest Bancomat (ATM), "Only 500 meters away, at the Faculty of Agronomy." I walk. A nice fellow who happens to be also in the store, but who speaks no English, escorts me all the way there, then refuses a 5 Lei note which I offer, "Pentru un bere." The machine yields 400 lei, and I walk back, managing, somehow, not to get lost, for it is anything but a straight route through city streets and across a bridge and past an old factory building, etc. I pay 265 lei, including service, then go back out to the service bay where my friend makes a point of showing me that he has, in fact installed the new filter I had provded, then has me watch as he pours the new oil into the crankcase. (That sort of makes one wonder, doesn't it.) I put the old wheel into the trunk, bid the oil shop good bye, and go looking for a Vulcanizarie, as I am not going to be long without a spare tire.
I had seen a sign for a tire store on my way to work, so I drove downtown to Piaţa Avram Iancu, and headed on east on Str. Dorobantilor. Sure enough, there was the Vulcanizarie. I parked, pulled my damaged tire (on which I had driven several hundred meters, and which I did not expect to be reparable), and wheeled it into the shop. The owner spoke quite good English, for which he apologized, as do many such Romanians. He asked where I had left my car, waving his hand at all the parking space he had available. Okay, I went and drove the Km of one-way streets necessary to bring it into the shop. When I returned, his employees had removed the tire from the rim and determined it to be unsalvageable, no surprise. So, we went into the office and discussed options and prices. Winter or summer tires (Klaus was wearing winter treads)? Contis or Michelins or no-names? I picked a pair of middle-grade (190 KPH-rated) winter tires. Might as well keep the four consistent, and had them mounted on the front, and the others rotated to the rear. VISA Debit Card? "Nu, Cash." Three hundred meter walk to the Bancomat, and another 300 back.
Klaus came home muddy, but freshly oiled and newly shod.
I considered driving out to the mall where I had bought my own jugs of oil to attempt to return them, but I was by that time sore, tired, and hungry. So I took Klaus home to his lair, put him to bed, then strolled yet another 700 meters home in the dark of 6:25 PM.
When I entered the building, I found Gheorghe standing in the foyer by the mailboxes, where the light is dim. I looked him in the eyes, gently touched his arm, and said, "Gheorghe, I am so sorry to hear about your daughter. This morning Victoria told me of your loss." Gheorghe does not speak English, but he understood my words. We two walked up 60 stairs slowly, side by side, in silence.
By nine the place looked presentable, and I answered Victoria's ring of the doorbell. I offered coffee and a snack, but Victoria declined, and we sat in the kitchen and had a good chat. She is nervous today because her daughter-in-law in New Jersey is due any day to give her a grandchild. She will be flying to New York this weekend to spend two weeks with the young folks, and help her son Mihai and the new mother with their baby.
But life is a cycle. Victoria also told me the bad news that my next-door neighbor Gheorghe recently lost his 40 year-old daughter Dianna to leukemia. She was diagnosed only four months ago. Dianna's teen-aged daughter will now be living with her grandparents here in the building. I had noticed that Gheorghe had not looked himself the last couple of times I had seen him, but I hadn't known why.
Victoria stayed with the gas men when they came, while I went across the corner to mail a letter to Mihai Moroiu at the Fulbright Commission, then we both left the apartment for our respective day's business.
I went to the Faculty of Economics to turn in the first semester grades, then waited for the Erasmus student who had asked to meet me. He did not show up, but I got a start on one of the Self-Studies I need to read in preparation for my duties as an ACBSP commissioner. Then, on the way home, the adventures started.
I have owned Klaus now for five months and about 7000 Km. As I am a religious oil-changer in all my vehicles and other piston-powered machinery, I had bought six liters of ridiculously expensive oil for Klaus on Sunday, along with a filter two days earlier. I was planning to change his oil this week. But first, I decided to check out the route to the University apartments, where at 9:20 on Wednesday I had agreed to pick up Kathy O. and her luggage, and help her schlep them to her new apartment, which she has now rented. So, I mounted up the GPS, and it found the area for me. But the building I had seen Friday was nowhere in sight. A woman on Strada Propilor saw me looking around, and kindly asked me in Romanian and in German (Klaus' "D" license plates often educe that reaction) if she could help me find something. I asked in English if there were a Babeş-Bolyai apartment building nearby. She said "Da," then put one finger in the air to tell me to wait, and called her daughter from the house. The tall and nice-looking daughter turned out to be a law student at UBB who speaks English. She walked me half-a-block, and pointed out the white-and-blue buliding a block west and across the main street from where I was parked. Perfect. I knew where to come in the morning.
It's still early. Let's do some exploring of the west side on the way home. I am south of the Someşul Mic. But Klaus' parking lot at the Faculty of Letters is north of that river. I am at the west end of town, so I must head east, and cross the river. Let's follow that taxi, and take this left. Hmm. This seems to be a big parking lot of some kind. The taxi pulls off toward some big low buildings to the left. Keep driving south. There is a way out at the back of the lot. It seems iffy. But, the river is just at my right, so if I keep going I'll find a bridge. The pavement is getting rough. Good old Romanian potholes. Klaus knows how to dodge those. Oh, oh. It is now a mud road, and the holes are bigger in diameter, and filled with water. No telling how deep they are. Finally, there is no visible right-of-way ahead, so we turn around. As we retrace the muddy path, Klaus bottoms gently a time or three, but comes through it dirty but unscath... whoops. What is that scraping sound? Could it be the muffler dragging? We are back on the main street to downtown, and Klaus feels and sounds unhappy. Better turn off on a side road and check him out.
I pull over, put on the parking brake and flashers, and get out to look under the car. But no need to kneel. The left rear tire is flat as a pancake. "Whew." say I. "Just a flat." But it is rush hour, and I don't relish the idea of changing the tire in the street right now. Then I look at the store on my right, and it says, in Romanian, "Filter and Oil Changes." I go in and explain my predicament to the kindly, fat, 48-looking attendant. He does not understand, and thinks I need an oil change, right away. He finishes up the car in his one service bay. I go out and open the trunk, set up the reflective triangle, pull the spare tire out, and start to search for the jack and lug wrench. I remove the wheel cover, and discover that I do not have a 17mm wrench long enough to loosen the lug nuts. I go back into the shop to ask to borrow one, and my recent acquaintance motions me to bring my car into his newly empty bay, with a service pit in the middle. "OK," I say, because I could use the help, and wanted an oil change anyway. I can probably return the oil I bought, and I can use my new filter. And, most especially, I can change my tire in safety.
We succeed in finding Klaus' camoflaged jack and lug wrench, then get the like-new spare onto the axle, and tightened down. My friend goes to work draining the oil, and I go into the store (magazin) to buy the oil. I pick out the best... Mobil synthetic 5W-40, six liters. Big bucks. I whip out my BancaTransilvania VISA card. "Nu, nu," says the lady, "Cash. Only cash." She directs me to the nearest Bancomat (ATM), "Only 500 meters away, at the Faculty of Agronomy." I walk. A nice fellow who happens to be also in the store, but who speaks no English, escorts me all the way there, then refuses a 5 Lei note which I offer, "Pentru un bere." The machine yields 400 lei, and I walk back, managing, somehow, not to get lost, for it is anything but a straight route through city streets and across a bridge and past an old factory building, etc. I pay 265 lei, including service, then go back out to the service bay where my friend makes a point of showing me that he has, in fact installed the new filter I had provded, then has me watch as he pours the new oil into the crankcase. (That sort of makes one wonder, doesn't it.) I put the old wheel into the trunk, bid the oil shop good bye, and go looking for a Vulcanizarie, as I am not going to be long without a spare tire.
I had seen a sign for a tire store on my way to work, so I drove downtown to Piaţa Avram Iancu, and headed on east on Str. Dorobantilor. Sure enough, there was the Vulcanizarie. I parked, pulled my damaged tire (on which I had driven several hundred meters, and which I did not expect to be reparable), and wheeled it into the shop. The owner spoke quite good English, for which he apologized, as do many such Romanians. He asked where I had left my car, waving his hand at all the parking space he had available. Okay, I went and drove the Km of one-way streets necessary to bring it into the shop. When I returned, his employees had removed the tire from the rim and determined it to be unsalvageable, no surprise. So, we went into the office and discussed options and prices. Winter or summer tires (Klaus was wearing winter treads)? Contis or Michelins or no-names? I picked a pair of middle-grade (190 KPH-rated) winter tires. Might as well keep the four consistent, and had them mounted on the front, and the others rotated to the rear. VISA Debit Card? "Nu, Cash." Three hundred meter walk to the Bancomat, and another 300 back.
Klaus came home muddy, but freshly oiled and newly shod.
I considered driving out to the mall where I had bought my own jugs of oil to attempt to return them, but I was by that time sore, tired, and hungry. So I took Klaus home to his lair, put him to bed, then strolled yet another 700 meters home in the dark of 6:25 PM.
When I entered the building, I found Gheorghe standing in the foyer by the mailboxes, where the light is dim. I looked him in the eyes, gently touched his arm, and said, "Gheorghe, I am so sorry to hear about your daughter. This morning Victoria told me of your loss." Gheorghe does not speak English, but he understood my words. We two walked up 60 stairs slowly, side by side, in silence.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Back to Colţeşti
Sunday. I could not face another day at this wonderful but eye-tiring laptop. I decided to see the territory southwest of Cluj, the territory we'd been in Friday, but so late that it was too dark to see much. I shunpiked. Deep mud in places. Kept Klaus rolling, though, and made it up the back way to the Viewpoint for the Chiele Turzii, which waitress Erszike at the little hotel in Colţeşti says they call "Turda Gorge" in English. (Smile if you must, but don't laugh, Americans.) It is a really beautiful natural rock formation. As my regular readers could already tell, I had lunch back at the small hotel in Colteşti (see yesterday's post). This time I made friends with both Erszike and the manager, Stefan, who owns a 125cc Simson motorcycle.
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Reno Reports to Romania
Transilvanian winter, just west of Aiud
(Photo from here: LINK)
Late lunch Friday was taken just a block away from the apartment at the Marty Restaurant, a modern, bright streetside cafe on Strada Horea that I have walked past scores of times on my way to get Klaus, or to return home from his parking place. Kathy O., a newly arrived Fulbrighter from the University of Nevada - Reno, and her Romanian friend Simona B., met me there at 2:00 to kick off the weekend.
Not really a newcomer to Cluj, as she has brought student groups here for several years, Kathy knew the Marty to be a good place. Lunch proved good, if unspectacular, after which I volunteered to drive the pair around Cluj a bit as Kathy researched the cost of having a decent mattress made for an apartment she had seen with a sacked one on its non-standard bed frame. As the pair searched for the mattress place, I found an oil filter for Klaus at a parts store (Piese de Auto), but refrained from paying 40 lei per liter for 6 liters of oil. I will check the hipermarket's prices before paying $80 for an oil change.
The first mattress-maker had closed up shop, so we went to a second. There the ladies succeeded in finding what they would need... if Kathy took the subject apartment. But, since she was still looking, no purchase was made.
Leaving this store, we decided to take a random ride on a nice afternoon, so I simply went straight up the street we were on. It climbed a gentle grade, turned to dirt, then mud, and continued southwestward out into a developing area, with fine new homes still under construction in small neighborhoods, with countryside in-between. In one such patch on the right, two deer were grazing, visible chiefly by their big white hindquarters. European White-tail deer don't have to flick their tails to reveal their white butts! We turned around, as the road appeared to be deteriorating into a bog. As we came back down, we saw that there was, in fact, a whole family, or small herd of deer, calmly munchng on the wild brown grasses and shrubs in the field. Nice.
By this time we had gained enough familiarity with each other to perceive that we weren't ready for the afternoon to end. Simona suggested we drive south to a Hungarian-culture village that she knew to be a nice one, some 50 Km south, a bit off the road to Alba Julia. It was a beautiful ride in the late aftenoon past white cliffs rising above the fields, as in the photo (from http://leosuteu.rdsor.ro/apuseni/rimet_e.html)
The Hungarian village of Rimetea had all its houses and buildings painted white, and all had green doors and trim and red tiled rooves. It was clear that this village would spring to life beautiful once the flower boxes were filled with blossoms. But it was midwinter and almost dark, so the effect was not as Simona had hoped it would be. And we were all by now in need of a WC. Fortunately, Simona remembered a "fancy restaurant" just a couple Km farther on. She was right.
In the tiny country village of Colţeşti (colts-esht'), at the end of a muddy though recently-regravelled-but-not-yet-graded lane, we found what can only be described as a lovely small hotel with the unpronouncible (to me) name of Szekelko Kuria Conacul Secuiesc. Check the link.
'Tis a country of contrasts, indeed. We had there tea (or for me, coffee) and dessert. A thoroughly enjoyable way to bring our Friday to a close.
(Photo from here: LINK)
Late lunch Friday was taken just a block away from the apartment at the Marty Restaurant, a modern, bright streetside cafe on Strada Horea that I have walked past scores of times on my way to get Klaus, or to return home from his parking place. Kathy O., a newly arrived Fulbrighter from the University of Nevada - Reno, and her Romanian friend Simona B., met me there at 2:00 to kick off the weekend.
Not really a newcomer to Cluj, as she has brought student groups here for several years, Kathy knew the Marty to be a good place. Lunch proved good, if unspectacular, after which I volunteered to drive the pair around Cluj a bit as Kathy researched the cost of having a decent mattress made for an apartment she had seen with a sacked one on its non-standard bed frame. As the pair searched for the mattress place, I found an oil filter for Klaus at a parts store (Piese de Auto), but refrained from paying 40 lei per liter for 6 liters of oil. I will check the hipermarket's prices before paying $80 for an oil change.
The first mattress-maker had closed up shop, so we went to a second. There the ladies succeeded in finding what they would need... if Kathy took the subject apartment. But, since she was still looking, no purchase was made.
Leaving this store, we decided to take a random ride on a nice afternoon, so I simply went straight up the street we were on. It climbed a gentle grade, turned to dirt, then mud, and continued southwestward out into a developing area, with fine new homes still under construction in small neighborhoods, with countryside in-between. In one such patch on the right, two deer were grazing, visible chiefly by their big white hindquarters. European White-tail deer don't have to flick their tails to reveal their white butts! We turned around, as the road appeared to be deteriorating into a bog. As we came back down, we saw that there was, in fact, a whole family, or small herd of deer, calmly munchng on the wild brown grasses and shrubs in the field. Nice.
By this time we had gained enough familiarity with each other to perceive that we weren't ready for the afternoon to end. Simona suggested we drive south to a Hungarian-culture village that she knew to be a nice one, some 50 Km south, a bit off the road to Alba Julia. It was a beautiful ride in the late aftenoon past white cliffs rising above the fields, as in the photo (from http://leosuteu.rdsor.ro/apuseni/rimet_e.html)
The Hungarian village of Rimetea had all its houses and buildings painted white, and all had green doors and trim and red tiled rooves. It was clear that this village would spring to life beautiful once the flower boxes were filled with blossoms. But it was midwinter and almost dark, so the effect was not as Simona had hoped it would be. And we were all by now in need of a WC. Fortunately, Simona remembered a "fancy restaurant" just a couple Km farther on. She was right.
In the tiny country village of Colţeşti (colts-esht'), at the end of a muddy though recently-regravelled-but-not-yet-graded lane, we found what can only be described as a lovely small hotel with the unpronouncible (to me) name of Szekelko Kuria Conacul Secuiesc. Check the link.
'Tis a country of contrasts, indeed. We had there tea (or for me, coffee) and dessert. A thoroughly enjoyable way to bring our Friday to a close.
Friday, February 6, 2009
Goodbye Semester One
"O Frabjus Day!" to quote Lewis Carroll's Jabberwock. I have completed the grading of my two fall courses at UBB-Cluj.
It is about 11:00 AM Friday, so I hereby am declaring it "The Weekend." I did my final grading at home, here in the Apartment, so will now get showered and dressed, for I will be lunching with a new senior Fulbrighter, Kathy Obenchan of the University of Nevada - Reno, who has joined us in Cluj for the spring term. She is an old hand in Romania, as this is her fourth or fifth visit. I doubt that I can show her anything new about Cluj, but maybe Klaus can help her see the surrounding countryside.
Whoops, I forgot something. My very next task will be to log into the CIES website and see if there is a mid-term report form there, as one requirement of a Fulbright grant is to submit both mid-term and final reports of your research and/or teaching experiences. Then it will truly be "The Weekend."
It is about 11:00 AM Friday, so I hereby am declaring it "The Weekend." I did my final grading at home, here in the Apartment, so will now get showered and dressed, for I will be lunching with a new senior Fulbrighter, Kathy Obenchan of the University of Nevada - Reno, who has joined us in Cluj for the spring term. She is an old hand in Romania, as this is her fourth or fifth visit. I doubt that I can show her anything new about Cluj, but maybe Klaus can help her see the surrounding countryside.
Whoops, I forgot something. My very next task will be to log into the CIES website and see if there is a mid-term report form there, as one requirement of a Fulbright grant is to submit both mid-term and final reports of your research and/or teaching experiences. Then it will truly be "The Weekend."
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Upstanding Citizens in Europe
I apologize for having kept you waiting, dear readers, but it has been yet another hectic three days of meetings, exams, trans-Atlantic negotiations, and work, work, work.
I need to tell you about a couple of people I met last Sunday on the way home to Cluj from Finland.
Ahmed
In the Helsinki airport I met a tall, light-skinned African man who told me he was a "White Somali" named Ahmed. We were sitting at the gate, waiting to board our flight to Budapest, Hungary. Ahmed clearly needed to talk to someone, so I listened, even after the silent frowner sitting between us rose, and went elsewhere to wait.
Ahmed said he has nine children, and a residence permit in Budapest, where he lives with four of his children, and no job. Technically, he says he has refugee status, as he shows me a UN ID card, because the White Somalis are presently a persecuted minority in their home country, and as such he receives a modest stipend from a refugee-relief agency. But, he also has a wife and five other kids in Somalia. So, Ahmed has been in Eastern Europe since 2005, hoping to find permanent work as a truck mechanic, so he can afford to bring his family from Somalia. He shows me a truncated finger to prove that he is a real mechanic. Then he says that he spent the money to fly to Helsinki because a Somali contact here had put him in touch with a potential employer, and that employer had told him to come on up for a talk. But once in Helsinki, that person had not appeared at the meeting place, and had not answered his telephone. So, Ahmed was heading home empty- handed.
That was an expensive disappointment, you say? Well, listen on, my friend.
In no way was Ahmed asking for a handout. He was clearly a proud man.
Ahmed can't find work because, while he can speak Russian, English, Arabic and several African languages, he can't read or write at all. He says he went first from Somalia to Moscow, then walked across Russia and the Ukraine to Hungary in 2005 and 2006. He nearly froze along the way, which took him the better part of two years. And every time he could work for a few months to save some money, the Ukrainian gangs would come and steal his money. He called them "bullies." But the police would do nothing for him. He thought them probably in cahoots with the gangs. Then, we were called for boarding.
We boarded to distant seats on the Finnair Airbus 320, and I didn’t see Ahmed again.
Loizos
At the Budapest A/P I had a five-hour wait for my connection to Cluj-Napoca. I sat in a café near an outlet where I could power-up my laptop, and tried to access a wireless connection. Wireless was apparently out of service, so I played some MS-hearts. Nearby, a gentleman was sitting, and our eyes met. “Having a good trip?” I asked. “Not so far,” he replied in a recognizable Greek accent. “All my luggage was stolen, right from my side, in a Madrid Airport Hotel.”
As I soon learned, Loizos is a 67 year-old “Big Animal” Veterinarian from Nicosia, Cyprus, who had flown to Madrid to meet with a sheep breeder. It had to do with a shared interest in breeding sheep with a genetic resistance to a certain disease. But in Madrid, while he was talking with the desk clerk at his hotel, a thief or thieves had picked up his bags and disappeared. “And the hotel manager did not even apologize to me,” he said. (This scene was right out of the movie “The French Kiss.”)
“The farmer in Spain had told me that he wanted to meet with me, and said since he did not speak English well, he would hire an interpreter,” Loizos went on. “But when I called him from the Airport in Madrid, he said he did not have the money for an interpreter, and would not be coming into the city for our meeting. So I am flying home.”
Loizos and I talked for a couple of hours. He is a brilliant man, with a no-nonsense mind, and an iconoclastic wit. I really enjoyed the time we spent together. I promised to put him in touch with my equally brilliant and skeptical Amherst College (1961) roommate John Marshall Sellers, DVM, a farm-animal veterinarian in the Pennsylvania Dutch country.
Those two up-standings needed to be blogged. (I’ll try not to make you wait three days for the next posting.)
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