To The Southeast for (then with) Shirl

As those who may have been following this blog with map at-the-ready will have perceived, Klaus and I have thus far reported on visits to all major sectors of Romania save the Southeast, where Romania meets the sea.

Today we are in Mamaia Nord on the Black Sea, just north of Mamaia, which is just north of Constanţa. We are in a very pleasant resort-motel called Vila Tudor, featuring its own access to a freshwater lake for fishing, a trail of about 150 meters to a beach on the Black Sea, an aviary, a sand-floored football “cage” (think beach soccer in a tennis court), a cat stalking birds on the roof of a nearby cottage while being screamed at by four unintimidated crows, and a two-bedroom “apartment” with refrigerator and air conditioner (but only luke-warm water, probably easily remedied, but I haven't complained) costing 100 de lei per night. That is $33.

Shirl is back in Romania, and is sitting on the bed behind me. I can see her in the mirror. She looks wonderful. She is almost over jet-lag, after two active days, and two full nights of sleep since her arrival on Thursday afternoon. Yesterday, we set a new Easternmost Point record aboard a chartered speedboat in the Danube Delta.

The First Few of the Last Few (Days)

Last Tuesday afternoon at 4:00, my American Studies students took their final exam. I asked them to write essays on questions relating to any two of the three recent books on the economy that they had been assigned in our course, American Economy & Business. Lucian Bogdan and I stayed at the Sala Einstein to grade the essays, and then went to the apartment to record the grades on my computer. Lucian agreed to deliver the grades to Ioana Hosu at the European Studies Faculty the next day, and took the grading spreadsheet home on his flash drive.

On Wednesday morning, I went to my office hours, met with Alexandra, my colleague and teaching team partner in Managerial Accounting, and drafted a final examination for that course. It was about 2:30 when I got home to the apartment. I had agreed to meet Charles Harris in Sibiu at his American Culture Club meeting that afternoon at 5:00, three hours to the southeast. Charles had offered me a couch to crash on that night, almost half-way to Bucharest, where Shirl would be arriving from Amsterdam at 1:40 PM on Thursday.

I had no chance of being on-time for Charles' meeting, but I rapidly packed, carried my bag, computer and small cooler across the piata to Klaus, and took off southward on E81, the familiar road to Turda, Aiud, Alba Iulia, Sebeş and Sibiu. Once clear of the Cluj traffic, I called Charles, and warned him I’d be late. “No sweat,” he said, “It is finals week, and I doubt any students will have time to attend anyway.”

The ride went well, and I arrived at Lucian Blaga University, Faculty of Letters and Arts, before 6:00. Charles met me on the street. He’d been right. No one had made it to his meeting. “I need to go to McDonald’s,” he told me. Damn. I had eaten a McD’s lunch already this week, and had been looking forward to one of Sibiu’s outstanding restaurants. But I was a good sport. We called our new mutual friend Roxy Fera, Keene State grad that she is, and found her delighted to join us at McD’s. Roxy is having a tough time finding a job since returning to Romania from her four years in Oman, and was nigh onto flat broke. So, we fed her. Times are tough in Romania, and a person in her thirties, even with excellent language skills and a fine education, is going to have to look long and hard to find a job that pays a satisfactory salary.

We dropped Roxy at her old high school, where she would be playing in a basketball game that night, and returned to Charles’ place for the night.

By 4:00 AM Thursday, I was wide awake on the couch. My alarm was set for 6:00. What the heck, I am awake. Might as well take off, and remove all time pressure from the rest of my trip. I woke Charles momentarily to say goodbye, and left for Bucharest.

It was a smooth ride through the slowly brightening dawn, with the silhouetted Carpathian Mountains providing majestic relief to the east. By 9:30 A.M. I arrived at the Casa Victor, Fulbright’s hotel-of-choice in Bucharest, found the perfect parking place available on the street immediately in front of “Receptie,” and found my room already available for me. Perfect. Time for a nap before going to the airport. Before napping, I asked myself whether I should drive Klaus to pick up Shirl, or leave him in the Perfect Parking Place, call Dan the Taxi Man, and have him do the driving. I knew it would be an expensive luxury to take a taxi both ways to OTP, but that perfect parking place had been the ONLY parking place I’d seen in the vicinity of the hotel. I called Dan.

Shirl’s plane was on-time, and she came out of customs looking like a seasoned tourist. You’d think she routinely stayed up all night. We hugged, then rolled her baggage cart out to the lot where Dan had parked the taxi, and was waiting.

Thursday afternoon and night, Shirl slept a well-deserved sleep, declining my offer to take her to dinner at the Italian restaurant just up Porumbaru Street, “Trattoria Verde Pizzeria.” So, I went alone. Calamari fritti. Good stuff.

On Friday morning the mission was to visit the Fulbright Commission, for Shirl had not yet met Dorina, Mihai, Corina, Anca or Loredana, the wonderful folks who take such good care of the Fulbright Grantees, both American and Romanian. In addition, Mihai had arranged for me to be interviewed by a reporter from Hotnews.ro, in connection with my Fulbright year in Romania, and about the new joint PSU/UBB MBA Program.

The meetings at the Commission went well. While I was being interviewed, Christina Mitrovici, a Romanian-born Fulbrighter from Fargo, North Dakota, arrived to ride with us back to Constanţa, where she has been spending her Fulbright Year. By about 1:30 PM, we’d said our final goodbyes to the good folks at Fulbright-Romania, and were on our way east toward Mare Neagra.

Cristina's colleague, whom we met at her University and who guided us to our motel, had made us a reservation here at Vila Tudor. We found it most welcoming when we arrived in Mamaia Nord. We were tired. Cristina accepted a lift back into Constanţa with her friend, so Shirl and I hit the sack, exhausted.

Saturday deserves its own post. Until then!

Conference in Sibiu

East-West Cultural Passage Symposium
Sponsored by Lucian Blaga University
Faculty of Letters & Arts
and
The Fulbright Commission of Romania
Held in Sibiu, 15 May 2009

Panel Topic: Is American Democracy an appropriate model for Romania?

Remarks By Panelist Prof. Duncan McDougall, Fulbright Scholar, Plymouth State University, New Hampshire, U.S.A., presently teaching at Babes-Bolyai University, Cluj-Napoca, Romania

Introduction

Early in the fall term I told my students at UBB-Cluj that I saw Romania and the United States as being much alike as countries with a lot of natural resources and beautiful geography, and both containing many cultural heritages and ethnic groups. I said then that the differences I perceived might stem from the fact that America had a 200-year head start in developing democratic institutions.

Today, I see that opinion as both naive and ethnocentric.

On "Nationality"

Today would have been my late father's 93^rd birthday. His name was Dugald Stewart McDougall, and he was an American of Scottish descent. My three brothers and I are proud of our Scot's heritage, but if asked our nationality, we would all answer unhesitatingly, “American.” The use of “nationality” as meaning “country of family origin” has fallen into disuse in America.

In Cluj-Napoca on Catholic Easter, I was surprised to hear the Hungarian national anthem played in church, and equally surprised by the answer I first heard from the Hungarian-Romanian colleague with whom I attended Easter services at Biserica Kalvaria, the old Roman Catholic Church in the Manastur section of Cluj. I asked her if she considered herself first a Hungarian, or a Romanian. “Hungarian,” she said at once. After a pause, she added, “… though my citizenship is Romanian.”

Since that day I have asked a number of Hungarian-culture colleagues and students, “How do you describe yourself, as Romanian or as Hungarian?” In each case I have been told, “Hungarian.” After a pause, in each case those folks have rethought their answers, and said words to the effect of, “But I am a citizen of Romania.”

I cannot remember the last time I heard an American citizen refer to the land of his ethnic roots as his “nationality.” In that perception, I have come to accept the notion that there is, indeed, an American Culture. In that distinction, I have come to understand a difference between America's diversity and Romania's diversity.

Differing Diversities

In Romania, the people live within borders imposed, in the main, by the victors of World War I. Those who were not of Romanian culture at that time were suddenly cut off politically from their ethnic fellows, and forced to live the lives of members of a minority. An emotional memory, now 90 years old, persists, leaving many of Romania's citizens still feeling like foreigners in their home country.

In contrast, American ethnic diversity stems, in the main, from three historical facts: voluntary immigration, slavery, and the conquering (some would say "incomplete genocide") of the American Indians. The voluntary immigrants from Europe conquered the Native American tribes, became the continent’s majority, and have formed an American Culture of great ethnic diversity: the famous “melting pot” that is America.

But thinking about the American Indians has led me to a new view of American diversity with respect to European diversity.

Julius Caesar rose to power by conquering Europe's “barbarians,” as he called them. In The Gallic Wars Caesar describes many European tribes, separated more by language and culture than by geographic boundaries, for the latter were always shifting as the tribes made war on each other. In America the Abenaki of Maine, the Iroquois of New York, the Cherokee, the Sioux, the Blackfoot, the Piute, the Apache, the Navajo, and many more tribes, were much the same. And today, their survivors are all Americans, and see themselves as such, though a few thousands have retained their native tongues, naturalistic religions, and tribal ways by living within reservations, with borders drawn by others. These ethnic enclaves are known as Indian Nations, and many are legally such, sovereign nations within the United States: “The Sioux Nation,” the “Navajo Nation,” etc.

Thanks to the Roman conquest, the Middle Ages, The Renaissance, The Enlightenment, and all that has followed, the European tribes, or nations, are two thousand years past their tribal lifestyles, yet tribalism persists in residual ethnocentrism and bitterness. What is the solution? I hope not more “ethnic cleansings,” more Kosovos.

So, where does this line of thought leave me on the central question, “Is American democracy an appropriate model for Romanian democracy?” I must say, “Of course not.”

Each democratic society will be shaped by its history and the will and cultures of its members. Else, it would not be a democracy “of the people,” and “by the people.” Should some aspects of American (and other countries’) democratic institutions be borrowed by Romania? Probably. Why reinvent the wheel? But Romanians must make those decisions, and clearly, their governance issues are very different from America's.

Role of the EU

There is another side of the Romanian situation that bears mention here. During my Fulbright Year in Romania, I have come to understand a bit about the most positive and promising geopolitical development of my lifetime, the European Union.

The “tribes” of Europe have finally come to see themselves not as ancient rivals, but as members of a single great civilization, stemming from Ancient Greece and Rome, yet colored by hundreds of regional languages and national cultures. Here the example of American Democracy becomes more relevant. The American does not feel in a strange land when he crosses from Missouri into Kansas, nor are his goods taxed at the state lines. Americans enjoy prosperity or suffer hard economic conditions as One Nation, Under God. Since a decade or two after our Civil War ended in 1865, virtually all Americans have so identified themselves, and gradually we have come to value our ethnic and racial diversity, even as time and television have worked to homogenize us.

The latest expression of the Oneness of a diverse America came in the election of Barack Obama as our President in 2008.

In closing, a short cultural story.

Each year in New Hampshire there is an event called “The Highland Games,” when New England's Scottish-Americans gather to sing “Scotland the Brave,” and to watch huge men tossing the caber. It is but one of thousands of events across America each year that celebrate Americans' ethnic heritages.

At the 2007 memorial service for his grandfather Dugald Stewart McDougall, my son Jesse Stewart McDougall, here present, told us of a big man in Scottish warrior dress that he saw once on stage at the Highland Games. This "Highland warrior" told the audience, “We Scots ha'e but two emotions: weepin', and angerrrrr. I lost a friend two months ago, and it set me to weepin'. For o'errrr a month I was weepin', until finally some fella' came along, and pissed me off.”

Thank you for inviting me to this conference, thank you for the Fulbright experience, and may God bless us all.

Romanian Higher Education and President Hutchins

Final Exam Day

My first-ever American Studies course will end today with a final essay examination. All but four registered students have made at least one appearance in class during the term, and I have been receiving e-mails from others who are desperately seeking the readings (distributed earlier) for their last-minute cramming. If any students happen to read this post before the exam at 4:00 PM this afternoon, I want to remind them that the final exam is worth 70% of their grade, so they are not in the running for a grade above 7 in the course unless they have been participating. However, a thoughtful, well-written pair of essays on the exam could net them a 10 on the exam, and a course grade of 7, even though they have never attended the lectures or the seminars.

Ramblings on Romanian Higher Education and President Hutchins

When I was but a lad, my late mother Carol Brueggeman McDougall, AB, University of Chicago, 1935, told me about her University's president Robert Maynard Hutchins. Hutchins was a rebel among American educators of his time. (See link.) In pursuit of less "practicality" and more pure intellectualism, under his leadership the U. of C. adopted what my mother called "the European model" of higher education. In her time, attendance at classes or lectures was purely optional, and only the final examinations were graded. Students were expected to act like interested learners, self-motivated to read and to think on their readings, then to expound intelligently at the term's end.

Faithful readers will recall that during the fall semester, I withheld judgment on the Romanian system of higher education, which closely resembles that which my mother experienced in the early Nineteen Thirties in Chicago. Today, I see merit in it, especially for those whose pre-college education has been comprehensive and demanding.

I find my students at UBB generally far better-prepared for college than most at PSU. They even write English more competently than most of my American students. And here in Romania, one can use analogies to classical literature, ancient history, or the Bible with positive response from the students, rather than blank stares. I find this fact delightful in my Romanian classes, but sad for my country, for it bespeaks the waning of American competitiveness in an increasiingly English-speaking global economy. And sad, also, because it bespeaks the collapse of high expectations and of academic standards in the public school systems of New Hampshire, if not of America.

I now conclude that the Romanian system of higher education can work very well. I have met too many Romanian intellectuals for whom I have high regard to believe otherwise. And I have enormous respect for my well-read, well-spoken late mother, a product of such a system.

My chief remaining doubt is about fairness. Is it fair that the absent students are granted the same diploma and academic rank as the diligent students? In Romania, one can work full time, earn three years of business experience, cram and squeek through exams, and get a college degree. Or, one can do one's assignments, read a lot, think a lot, broaden one's world view, deepen one's intellect, and graduate three years behind in the business or professional world, with the same degree. Is that fair? Certainly, that question tests Hutchins' view of the real purpose of a bachelor's degree program. One would hope that the serious students will enjoy life more fully.

Continuing my ramble, I now applaud the legendary one-room schoolhouse, in which one educated woman (almost exclusively, in those times) often taught eight grades of primary and grammar school to the American youth of yesteryear, aided in the lower grades by the best of the upper-grade students. With the respect and backing of parents, these teachers gave, and gave, and gave of themselves, and helped America raise generations of literate, hard-working, thoughtful, and yes, morally conscious men and women with a solid grounding in the writings of the seminal thinkers of Western Civilization. Abe Lincoln may have had exceptional talents, but he was no fluke.

In that academic tradition were the Wilmette Public Schools in my childhood home town in Illinois. Our schools were large, our classes 30 to 35 strong, but our teachers were strict, and in control. They delivered. And I do not remember ever having a teacher's aide in a classroom. Of course, if we got into trouble in school, our parents backed our teachers. There was a cultural norm at work: elementary education was important. I do recall that after World War II, when we moved from the East Coast back to the Chicago area, my mother chose Wilmette because she had three sons (later, four), and Wilmette was known for its fine schools. So, perhaps I am again indebted to my mother's caring judgment.

What about high school? Does anyone in America read Homer in public high school anymore? Plato? Caesar? Cicero? Hell, does anyone in a New Hampshire high school have an opportunity to study Latin? Most of my Romanian students read and speak three or more languages. In learning other languages, they have come to understand grammar. My mother and father taught me to speak grammatical English, but high school Latin taught me grammar.

I may be sounding today like a frightful snob to some of my American readers, but I suspect that the American K-12 public school system has at least as much to learn from the Romanian school system as the Romanian system of higher education has to learn from its American counterpart.

Paul Tomiţa Golf Club in May

Golf with Vasile was great fun today, though I did not shine on the front nine. Warmed up, fed, and relaxed, I shot a 50 on the back nine, with two consecutive pars as the only good holes of the day. The very challenging course is much improved from its November condition, though definitely in the European tradition. It reminds me of golf in Scotland. Beautiful views, nasty rough.

Shirl's coming back! (Yay!) I am hoping to drive to Sibiu on Wednesday evening and stay with Charles. Then I'll not have to drive at night (before dawn) to meet Shirl's plane in Bucharest.

At UBB, Prodeacon Mihaela Luţaş has invited me to return next Winterim to teach two compressed courses in January. That is going to be difficult to arrange, but it is something I will consider. At some point I must return to Cluj, as I have learned to love this city. I was walking from the Faculty of Letters lot this week looking at the colorful Renaissance Revival buildings, Eastern domes, and steeples of Piaţa Mihai Viteazul with feelings of my impending loss. But, on the other side, there is the view of Plymouth at night as one descends Ashland Hill on I-93, there is the beautiful PSU campus, there are the White Mountains, there is the Beebe River, there is Mad River Coffee Roasters, and there is home.

Have a good Memorial Day, America! God willing, I'll be manning the grill on the 4th of July!

Bleary-eyed and Out-of-touch

Nancy Sherman is back in-country. I met her at CLJ yesterday afternoon, and drove her "home" to Oradea, where she is going to be spending the next month on her extended Fulbright grant. The original idea was for her to come to the apartment to sleep off her travels, then catch a train to Oradea today. But I love to drive, and she was up for finishing the trip in the comfort of a BMW rather than in a dirty rail car.

So, we headed west. We had a light dinner at the same roadside restaurant where I met the folks with the trumpet violin back in October (See "Half-Told Tales"), and found it as pleasant this time as last.

We arrived in Oradea at about 10:00 PM. It took a bit of finding to locate Kate Palmo's place. Kate is the Peace Corp volunteer who has been working in Oradea this year, and with whom the Sherman-Hayes family had become good friends in the fall. Nancy will be staying with Kate this next month. After a bit of undirected searching, Kate came out to Dacia Boulevard, and walked toward us, until we met up. I towed Nancy's big suitcase as far as the lift door in Kate's bloc, then bid my farewells, and turned back toward Klaus, and home.

The trip home was smooth. I trailed a small van at conservative speeds as the in-a-hurry types roared by us. For fun, I dialed Shirl in the US on my Vodaphone as I drove, achieved a great connection, and we chatted about family business until the phone ran out of Euros. I arrived home in Cluj at 1:09 AM. Not bad at all.

This morning I have spent here in my office at UBB, working on an exam. Now, I am off to Iulius Mall to buy more time on my cell phone!

Tomorrow: Sunday golf with Vasile Tamas in Pianu de Jos! I cannot wait to see the Paul Tomiţa Golf Course in good condition. It should be at its best tomorrow, as there is a tournament there today. I shall report.

Photos by Jesse of our Trip to Sibiu, Pensiune in Raşinari, and ride to Paltiniş

My four beloved visitors are safely home now in Colorado, Vermont and New Hampshire. While in Romania, they took hundreds of photos, so this is but a sampling. To follow the trail chronologically, please start at the bottom of this post, which covers May 14, 15 and 16, prior to my returning for FSEGA Englishline's graduation (see prior post).

Alex's new friends at Paltiniş





























Paltiniş



































Raşinari










Alex














Piper















With Charles and his colleague at the East-West Conference at Lucian Blaga University, Sibiu.










































Architetural Details of Phoenix Pensiune, Raşinari

















Old Sibiu





















Klaus' cousin







Transilvanian Delivery Service Workers


















Natural bridge on hillside in Colţeşti

































Conacul Secuiesc, in Colţeşti. (Recommended highly. I have now taken seven guests there in five visits.)

















































Limmers at Cheile Turzii.





























Cheile Turzii comes into view.
(The Turda Gorge)














Full Klaus













As we left for Sibiu on Thursday, we made a stop at Motoland in Cluj where we found a fine- looking 1995 BMW R1100GS in Red. I am tempted.










Alex, Cally, Melinda, Duncan, Roxy and Piper met for dinner Wednesday night at Gente Pizzeria in Cluj. (Moni arrived later!)

Englishline Graduation at UBB

On Saturday, 16 May, shortly after the kids and I had returned to the apartment from our trip to Sibiu, Melinda Pleşcan called to invite me to ride with her to our Englishline students' graduation ceremony at the Auditorium Maximum in the central downtown building of Universitatea Babeş-Bolyai. I had planned to walk, as it is only about half a mile (750 m) from the apartment, but I gladly accepted Meli's invitation. (Any five minutes with this charming lady is not wisely refused.)

As soon as we entered the buildng, we saw the about-to-be graduates in their caps and gowns, lining up in the foyer. They saw Melinda and me, and spontaneously applauded as we passed by. (Clearly, they agree with me about Melinda.)

Then, in the grand hall itself, we were guided to the front row, where Monica Zaharie was already seated. I do not know that she had saved us seats, but there were two available, so we sat with her. The autumn's gang of three was reunited at the end. It seemed fitting.

Then, I saw Moni's notes. She had prepared her remarks. Oh, oh.

I had been told that I would be expected to say a few words at the ceremony, as, like Monica Zaharie, I had been voted one of the Englishline's "Dearest Professors," which is a rough translation of the Romanian words "decan suflet," which mean, literally, "soul dean." It was a wonderful thing. (And Melinda, too, received the same honor at the Faculty of Business, where she taught in the spring.) I was feeling warm feelings for my Operations Management and Labor Management students. But what was I going to say? And would I be called to say it from the stage, to all the students and parents?

Then, as is so often the case, Prof. Mihaela Luţaş came to my rescue. She came down the row and welcomed the three of us, then asked if she could introduce me as "her best American friend." I told her to do so if she liked, but that I would be trying not to be too personal in my remarks. I felt more confident. One oratorial decision was made.

Then Mihaela and Monica were called to sit on the stage, and the Fonzie of the management class, Flaviu Petean and the lovely finance major and class president, Oana-Maria Pop took over as Master and Mistress of Ceremonies. For the parents' and grandparents' sake, the ceremony was conducted chiefly in Romanian. The first person introduced was Prodeacon Luţaş, then Monica Z. representing the Management program, then her counterpart from the Finance program. Each made short remarks, well received by the students and by the audience. Then a list of all the professors the students had studied under at UBB was read, singling out those who were voted "Soul Deans." And, in spite of my American grading structure, my insistence on proper citations, my insisting that the students buy their cases from HBS, etc., I was so-named and my name was applauded by the graduates. I felt a deep emotion, but I held my composure. I knew I was about to have to speak.

The first "dearest professor" to address the group did so on a recording, in English, from a far land. I heard he was in China. He gave what would have been an eloquent graduation speech, had it been the graduation speech. But it was a bit too long for an English speech to a Romanian audience. "Keep yours brief," I said to myself. Another decision made. It was coming together.

So, my turn came. As I had just come home that day from Sibiu, where I had delivered a talk at a roundtable on "Is the United States an appropriate model for Romanian Democracy," I was tempted to repeat that five-minute talk. But I decided to wing it, instead. As best I can remember, I said,

"Hello, everyone.

When I first came to Cluj last September, I arrived in a car (auto, maşina) that I had bought in Stuttgart. In our family, we give our cars names, and I had named my car Klaus. I drove east through Austria and Hungary to Budapest, then on to Cluj. When I arrived here, I saw a sign welcoming me (and my car) to "Cluj, Kolosvar, Klausenburg." It was a coincidence. It was perfect. And it set a pattern for my year here at UBB. There have been a great many coincidences, and each has turned out to be perfect.

That brings me to the first thing that I want to say to you graduates, and to all the Romanians in the Hall. I have been asked a hundred times when I have met you and other Romanians, "Do you like Romania?" or "Do you really like Romania?"

I love Romania. [The audience applauded, so I did not add what I wanted to add: "You are a smart, loving, caring, hard-working, generous, and justly proud people with great traditions, fascinating history and diversity, strong religion and instinctive hospitality. You are willing to go out of your way for each other and for a stranger from afar. You have made me welcome beyond my fondest dreams, and for the rest of my life I shall consider many of you my personal friends."]

And [ I continued], if my time here brings about no other change, I want you all to change your question of foreign visitors. Please, stop asking, "Do you like Romania?" I want from now on to be asked, "Do you like Romania as much as I do?"

I went on to recognize MC Flaviu Petean for his natural leadership, which I predicted would one day make him President of Romania (The first Maramuresian president?). Then I closed by reminding my students of the definition of "businesslike" that I learned many years ago from a Chinese fortune cookie:

"Businesslike: calm, factual, clear, brief, and honest."

If you live like that, you won't go far wrong.

Finis!













With Dora Faur and Alex Mican, of the Bucovina and Easter posts.

For Dr. Zach

Please review the previous post. Pictures (by Jesse) have been added. (More pictures of the gang will follow with the next story, telling of The Botanical Gardens of Cluj, and our trip to Sibiu.)

First Objective: Check!

The first objective that I had for the visiting clan was to give them an opportunity to understand the meaning of the "land of contrasts" that is Romania.

On Saturday, having met at Ferighy Airport's Terminal 2A, having learned that the bags would indeed all fit into Klaus' trunk, and having "niced" (thank you, Piper) the police into not ticketing us for parking illegally, we drove into the city of Budapest. Then, after determining that our hostel reservation was at a place to which we could not drive, we stopped for refreshment at a small beergarden near a major suspension bridge over the Danube. After one round, with my having a Coke Light, the waitress kindly gave us permission to leave our car there overnight. So our second round was five beers, not four-and-a-Coke. We then found our way to the Domino Hostel, which was clean and quite adequate for a post-flight place to sleep for one night. Its location, on Vaci U., the pedestrian mall of downtown Budapest, was outstanding. All five of us stayed in one room with three bunkbeds for a total of 84 Euro, about $22 each.

On Sunday morning, towing or toting our luggage, we walked from the Domino Hostel back across the Danube bridge to the shady lot where we had parked Klaus overnight. Our next two hours we spent walking in Old Buda, on the hill above the Danube, overlooking the city. That is Alex at the castle in the picture.

Klaus then took us unerringly out to the M3, a flawless motorway heading east. We made excellent time through Eastern Hungary, and had entered Romania at Petea and passed through Satu Mare before stopping for lunch.

Eastern Hungary is quite beautiful, with many very well-kept villages and farms, and not a few forested areas. Deer-crossing signs are common, reminding us of New Hampshire. But, unlike Romania and New Hampshire, Hungary is mostly flat.

At the border we had to wait and be quizzed about the swine flu. All with American passports were being checked. I explained that I was living in Cluj, and that the others had all been screened at the airport upon entry to the EU. They returned our stamped passports, and we were in Romania.

Romania does not disappoint.

From our light lunch at the "Fast Food Shack," we drove to Negresti Oas to have an ice cream at the Regal Restaurant, and renew my special acquaintance with Saint Carmen the Waitress, Savior of Abandoned Computers. She grinned ear to ear when she saw me.

From Negresti Oas we continued east, along the frontier with Ukraine, past where I sang with the drunk Ukrainian musician back in October, and on to a feast and great night at the Popasul Din Deal in Ocna Sugatag. By then, the contrasts of life styles of city and country folk, of dress between younger and older folk, of modes of transport between horsedrawn wagons and new Audis, and of road conditions between newly-paved and treacherous had all become known to our newcomers.

As we approached Sigheti Marmatei, we found ourselves crossing the Sapanţa River. I perceived an opportunity. We reversed course for less than a kilometer, and turned toward the Merry Cemetery, not new to this blog, but certaiinly worth showing to my guests.

On Monday, we started our day with a prayer at Bărsana, and then drove slowly home by the new route that we first discovered when Dietmar was driving Shirl, Ferdi, Klaus and me back to Cluj six weeks earlier. Maramureş. The northern mountains. Northern Transilvania. Finally Cluj, and a stop to change money at Banca Transilvania in the Iulius Mall. Starbucks coffee. Alex at a rotating sushi bar. The chic girls of Cluj.

Need I say more?

View of our apartment bloc from the Roland Garros, a riverside cafe across the Someş Mic.

Projects, Prenostalgia, Progeny and Plans

The big happenings of the week:

1. Mr. Ovidiu Cristian, a doctoral candidate at FSEGA with both business experience and excellent academic credentials, was made project manager of the PSU/UBB Joint MBA Program implementation on the UBB side of the partnership.
2. Mihaela has put Ovidiu in touch with the people at the UBB Media Office, and progress is occurring rapidly.
   
3. A UBB Press Release has been drafted, and should go out Friday to the Romanian media.
   
4. I have become actively involved in two casewriting efforts, both with small companies in Romania. They are very different companies with completely different issues, and that is auspicious from a casewriter's point of view.
5. On Saturday, four American visitors will arrive to spend over a week in the region: my sons Jesse (30) and Alex (24), my daughter Piper (young and beautiful), and our great family friend Caroline Wheeler (also young and beautiful).

I heard this week that both Charles Harris and Nancy Sherman have been granted extensions to their Fulbright grants. Of course, I am happy for them both. Congratulations!

Meanwhile, I am experiencing pre-nostalgic feelings. Last night I had dinner with Monica and Melinda, my beloved fall-term teaching assistants, and it felt a bit like a reunion. We all are sensing that our lives are moving on to new phases. But, both these ladies were central to my early adjustment to and love for this country, and they both know that our friendship is not in danger of fading.

After yet more yummy pizza in the west end of town, M&M came along to the Carrefour Hipermarket at Polus Center to help me pick out some bedding and dishes to equip my apartment for the five people who will occupy it for a few nights in the next week. On the way back toward downtown, I mentioned that I would be driving early Saturday through Oradea on the way to Budapest to meet the arriving McDougall Phalanx. Monica told me that she and Horatius were also headed to Oradea on Saturday. Bravo! They will save bus or train fare, and I will have their excellent company for the first few hours of my seven hour drive to Fereghy Airport!

The four to arrive Saturday and their host have quite a plan for cramming good experiences into the coming week. I wonder how many of our objectives will be achieved!

Weekend in Sibiu: Muzeul Civilizaţiei Populare Tradiţionale "ASTRA"

May 1st, Unu de Mai, is Labor Day (or Workers' Day) in much of the world, and very much so here in Romania. For me it meant no classes, and I stayed home and got into a blue funk. So I Skyped my counselor, Shirley, and after chatting for over an hour, I was myself again. I do not know how she does that, but she has always been a tonic for me. Thanks to Shirl, May 2nd and 3rd turned out really well.

Having shaken my blues, rather than stay home all weekend going stir crazy, I contacted Kathy O, who joined me for a pizza while I had Spaghetti Bolognesi, as I knew Shirl had enjoyed it, at Gente's. During dinner, Kathy described some Dacian ruins near a town called Haţeg, that her friend (now our friend) Simona B. had once taken her to see. So, I called Simona and Charles Harris, and hatched a plot to go to Sibiu on Saturday. As it happened, Simona had to go there anyway for an afternoon-evening conference, but said she would be happy to guide Charles and me to the ruins, which are near her family's home, on Sunday.

I mounted Klaus early, got a bit lost finding Simona's place in Cluj, and we hit the road at 7:45. The traffic was light, and we made excellent time, reaching Sibiu by 10:15. There we met up with Charles, and with Simona's colleague Marianne, who was to be at the conference with Simona, and her hostess for the night.

(See picture: Simona on my right, Marianne on my left. All pictures in this post are by Charles Harris.)

Simona and Marianne went off to their day's work, and I joined Charles in his apartment, where I heard the latest Fulbright scuttlebutt, which included the fact that our stipends for April wouldn't be available until May 5th, meaning many Fulbrighters were keeping their landlords waiting for May's rent. Then, Charles suggested we invite his new acquaintance Roxy Fera, a graduate of Keene State College (!), to join us for lunch, and a visit to one of Sibiu's most interesting museums. Never one to turn down a chance for pizza, let alone with a USNH alumna from (and in) Romania, I concurred, and we headed off to Pompadore's Pizza.

At Pompadore's, Charles called his buddy Sorin Ungariu, who also works at Lucian Blaga University, so we went to the museum as a foursome. Here are a few pictures taken there (that is Sorin on the left).

The museum visit turned out to be wonderful, featuring a building or farm machine or old industrial structure or machine (wool fullers, wheat threshers, steam tractors, etc.) from every judet (county) in Romania. The weather was bright and breezy, there was a wedding going on in the park, and we stopped at one point for ice cream by a lake. For about two hours I walked with the Sibiu native Roxy, who proves to be a well-traveled woman of 33, who not only had four years of college in New Hampshire, but also three years' teaching (of English) in Central China, and four years' living and teaching in Oman, on the Persian Gulf.

We four then gathered (adding Roxy's new puppy, whom she had gone home to take out for a walk) at Charles' place for a dinner of mici (cooked by Duncan once he figured out Charles' previously unused oven). We enjoyed a beer or un pahar cu vin rosu sec, and parted about 10:00.

On Sunday, footsore, Charles and I were only mildly disappointed when Simona called to excuse herself from the day's guiding. She was not feeling well. So, I headed home to Cluj early to save her having to ride sick on a bus. As we drove, Simona felt a bit better, so we took a lovely Carpathian route that neither of us had seen before. Maybe I'll take my four young visitors to Sibiu by that route next week.