Sabbath II

Went downstairs only to take out the trash today. Took a long hot bath. Ahhhhh.

Saturday's Ride

Once upon a time, Duncan got into his little red wagon, and went for a ride. He headed north from Cluj, vaguely toward County Maramureş, and the fabled Satu Mare. But it was not long before he found himself amid sights he could not pass. At Chinteni there was a cemetery, overgrown with weeds, but full of handsome sepulchers. The reverence of Romanian peasants for their forebears was plain here. Duncan walked into the plot, and crossed himself. T’was not a common act for the lad, but here, he felt it, and did it. And he did so from right to left. Requiescat in Pace, Ioan and Lucretia.















Then, as Duncan turned to leave, a future tenant drove by, with his arm around the son who would one day place him here, God willing. So, Duncan was sure, the driver wishes.















Duncan stopped next at a nearby dwelling, guarded by a fearsome beast.















As well he had to be. For look at the home he guarded!














The house next door differed somewhat.














And the next had in front a carriage of great style and class.

But immediately to the right, beside this fine house, three men stood over a fallen cow, all black and white and cowering. Duncan saw her try to stand up, no doubt to run away, as one of the men struck her repeatedly on the head with a short rod of iron. One of the men saw Duncan taking pictures, and started walking toward him and his camera. Duncan waved and departed, without taking a photo of the cow’s crisis. Some necessary acts of rural men are best kept on the farm.

For the first time since coming to Romania, Duncan wished he had been in New Hampshire, where he could have provided a powerful pistol to the executioner, that the beast not suffer so.

Further to the north the cell phone rang, shattering the fairy-tale mood, but netting Duncan an invitation from Nancy Sherman and her family to come over to Oradea for the afternoon. As it was still only 10:30, and as the GPS indicated 160 Km to Oradea, Duncan agreed to turn west, and go to see his new friends.

But the road west proved a slow one.



















And it led through Dragu, where Duncan was unable to resist using his camera. For there were misty mountains,














and wild flowers,



















haystacks and cornstalks,



















Colorful characters,



















And a beautiful church,



















With some color of its own.














When at last Duncan reached the next paved highway, an hour had passed, and he was only 30 KM (20 miles) closer to Oradea. He called Nancy back, and sadly, they agreed to postpone the shared ride until next weekend. Duncan headed back for Cluj-Napoca, filled with the beauty and drama of his morning ride through Transylvania. And “home” was, in itself, a sight,














With its Renaissance details,














And its cozy courtyard flat,














replete with Duncan’s wash, hung out to dry.

TGIF

I got up at 4:00 AM to watch the Veep candidates' debate, then went back to sleep, decidedly uninspired. Then I awoke, made breakfast, and was chewing my muesli when I finally looked at my watch. It was 10:30. I had asked Monica by e-mail to meet me at my office at 10:30. Thank God for cell phones. I dialed her number. "Hello Professor Duncan!" she said. "Do you know that we have a meeting of the English Program faculty at 11:00?" It was the first I'd heard of it. I had under 30 minues to get across town to the Campus (as opposed to the Universitatea, which refers to the main downtown buildings of UBB). I just made it, thanks to a good taxi driver.

Since Monica had not yet received last night's e-mail, she didn't even know I was late to our meeting. My learning of the English Program meeting was shear serendipity, as have been so many events related to this Fulbright experience. I still do not know why I am here, but I believe it is for a reason.

Interesting meeting. As it turned out, I hadn't been invited for a reason. Mihaela had somewhat corrective messages to impart to my colleagues, and would have preferred to do so without the newcomer present. Roxana Stegerean, who heads the English Program faculty as a peer leader, or coordinator, reported feedback from a satisfaction survey done last spring. It seems that while largely satisfied with the program, the students had complained that some professors were teaching in Romanian, and as English Program students, they wanted to be taught in English, only. That bodes well for my classes, since I have no choice. (Thanks, Mom, for being such a stickler on grammar and diction. My English may actually be able to serve as a useful example.)

My new office computer is alive and well, and I even have a phone and printer working now in ECON 409. So, less than a week after the start of the school year, I have a functioning work station. That is pretty good, if you ask me. Let's hear it for Mihaela, and for the ECON staff!

This afternoon I prepared a syllabus for my Operations Management class, and prepared assignments for next week’s classes in both my courses. With those tasks behind me, I can actually have a weekend!

I will take my camera where ere I venture, and then publish some new pictures for my esteemed readers.

Oh, one erratum to correct. The traditional old town to the north that I mentioned before is Satu Mare, not Sadu Mare. I am told by Mihaela that Satu means “village,” and I know that Mare means “big.”

If the weather is good, I am headed that way, this week or next. Probably, I will make it a day trip. It's only about 200 clicks. That is about a three-hour drive, each way, which should make for a great photography day. Unlike taking snapshots in Bucharest, I shall try to get some good images. As I did in Greece in ’01, I will take my time, stop often, and if I don’t get as far as Satu Mare, so be it. It will be life.

(By the way, Nancy and Pat, if you are reading this, please let me know if you and Evan want to ride with me up to Satu Mare, because I could certainly come by way of Oradea.)

Beware of Microshaft!

Microsoft, in endless quest to irritate its customers, has been telling me for the last week that I have only ten days to “Activate Windows,” or they will take it from me. I have no idea whether this is due to my coming to Romania, but it never happened in the US. Of course, I am going to be seriously crippled without my faithful HP Pavilion. So, on D-Day – 5, I try to “Activate Windows online,” only to get an error message. Then I try to “Activate Windows over the phone.” Click your location. Drop-down country list. Romania. Call +40 1 XXX XXXX. Dial the number. Beep, Beep, Beep. No luck. On D-4 I ask at the office. System Engineer Vasile The Willing Though Harried, says he thinks he can install a patch to make the problem disappear. (Romanian computer hackers are not to be trifled with, it seems.) He does so, but it makes no difference, except to add a new flash and musical tone at boot-up. What did you install, I ask? “A virus,” Vasile replies, “but it’s harmless.” Today, on D-3, I tell Mihaela, my wonderful Dean and Melinda, one of my wonderful teaching assistants about it. They take a look, and say, “Oh, they changed the phone numbers. Forget the 40 (Country Code), add a 02 at the front, and it will work.” So tonight, I try again: 0 21 XXX XXXX. Ring,ring! And a recording in Rapid Romanian comes on. Of course. What did I expect? A person? At Microsoft? Has any reader EVER reached a PERSON at Microsoft? So I say, “Screw it,” dial the US number, lying by roughly 7000 miles about my location, and follow instructions. Voila! Windows is activated! (At least until tomorrow, when Microshaft’s spyware tells them that I am really in Romania.)

Great Students! (All patru of them)

I have been assured by many here at UBB that the students in the English Language Program in the Faculty of Economics are the best in the school. I shall have the third year cadre of these students in both my courses this term, numbering about thirty in all. If the four who attended the first class in Labor Management are typical, I will be working with a great set of undergraduates.

If four of thirty showed up for a class in mid-semester, a teacher would be tempted to blame his boring lectures. But it is the first day. According to Mihaela Lutas, several factors entered into the turnout stats. First, today was the day that the dorm rooms were being allocated to third-year students. The best students get the first picks, and my class was at 9:00. Ergo, many of my fine students were moving in, or helping friends do so. Second, it is more-or-less traditional for UBB professors, who know of this (weird and unproductive) interference of the housing function into the academic year, to treat the first week as a last week of summer vacation, and plan no more than the passing out of a first assignment at their opening classes. Third, Romanian law forbids a university from making attendance at lectures mandatory. Seminars (usually taught by TAs) can be required, but not the lectures, or "Class Sessions." Hence, the normal attendance rate at lectures is 50% or less.

Hence, only four showed up this morning. Andrew came from Oradea in the West, Corina from rustic Satu Mare in the North (where Octaviu the freshman lives), Flaviu from Cluj, and Marius, also from Cluj. After some introductory words about my background, J. William Fulbright, and the case method, I read a case from the podium, and led our first discussion. I read the classic workforce management case, "Hovey and Beard."

Contrary to the expectation that colleagues had instilled, participation was open, intelligent, and inclusive. All four took an active part, displaying undergraduate naivete, along with a bit of pessimism about what workers would do when a paced line was installed to replace individual handwork in a toy factory. But they were using their brains, were listening and engaged, and seemingly they, as I, enjoyed the class. I hope the word gets around that I am not a snore, and that at tomorrow's first Ops class I have a fuller contingent present.

At the end of class, Mihaela came by to show me to my office for "a surprise." She had equipped it with a new stapler, paper clips, paper, looseleaf binders, sheet protectors, etc. Moreover, my ACBSP self-studies had arrived from Kansas City, the very morning after I participated in a conference call with a visitation team on a school whose self-study was in that box. Better late than never! I spent the next few hours with my Ops TA, Melinda Plescan, discussing that course, and liasing with the System Engineer Vasile, who has promised me my new office computer, yet agaiin, for tomorrow. (He was swamped today. His office was a madhouse.)

Tomorrow I will launch Operations Management. Work, work, work!

My blood sugar monitor seems to love Romania. I have reduced my insulin intake in order to keep from going too low! Walk, walk, walk!

[Outside the windows there are raucous cheers resounding from the Piata Mihai Viteazul. Today Cluj played Chelsea (UK) in a European Cup Round (or some such) football (soccer) match. I have a hunch Cluj won.]

Some Differences

Thus far I have been gushing with enthusiasm for all things Romanian. Perhaps it is time to relate some observed contrasts between life in Romania and in the USA.

The university buildings are magnificent, rock solid, and in the case of the Faculty of Economics, very modern. No expense was spared in their construction. Like the Parliament in Bucharest, there is an enormous amount of open space in the center of the building. That has to be energy-inefficient, and had to cost a lot of money. The floors are polished marble. The offices are large. The rest rooms are world-class. I remember when, in the Eighties, Harvard Business School upgraded the Aldrich Hall rest rooms, saying they wanted them to be "world class." We all laughed, but they did turn out well. These are as good, if not better. But today I could find toilet paper in only one of four stalls, and that was because the prior user had kindly torn a strip from the long roll of toilet paper next to the wash stands and tucked it into the T.P. holder in the stall. When I was done in there, I did the same for the next user.

As indicated above, UBB uses what we consider industrial T.P. rolls as hand-drying paper.

The stapler that Maritza kindly provided doesn't staple. My teaching assistant saw that and said, "That's Romanian!"

Most of the doors to the outside of the Econ building are kept locked, not from the outside, but from both sides, with a deadbolt. Even the most-used entrances have only one door of four that is open to traffic, creating a pinched flow of users. I kept thinking today, "In America that would be illegal. What if there were a fire, or other emergency? People could not escape."

Kinga Kerekes (Care-a-Kesh) is my colleague teaching Labor Management. My office is Room 409, and is adjacent to a stairwell. Hers is directly above mine on the fifth floor. But the stairwell is locked. Again, no escape route, and to get from my office to hers we were forced to walk to the opposite end of the long hallway, and up the stairs, then all the way back to our end of the building.

Why are all these doors locked? One person suggested it was to save cleaning little-used stairwells. Okay. I can see that in the summer. I will be most interested to find out if the whole building is in use tomorrow, when classes open.

A positive contrast is the obvious impact of green thinking on consumer-product packaging here in Europe. For example, whereas Americans still buy their dry laundry detergent in big boxes, here such products are sold in plastic bags. Other products, such as peanuts or oatmeal that are jarred or boxed in the USA are packaged here in simple, old-fashioned cellophane. Not only does this practice greatly reduce solid waste, it also allow a lot of goods to be carried in a manageable shopping bag. That is a very good thing when one must walk up 55 steps to one's apartment!

Other progress:

Last night Victoria and Florin Moldovan brought me the key to the mail box, and installed my name in the door, and Florin came up to the apartment and showed me how to read the water meters. Utilities will be on us, it appears, but that is okay, for so long as I get the receipts or bills, the Fulbright living stipend will reimburse them.

Florin also brought me a keycard to the parking lot at the Faculty of Letters, which is only about five blocks from the apartment. I have now tucked the BMW away in that lot, which is invisible from the street in a wooded courtyard surrounded by a wall and old University buildings. I am delighted that it is safe, and close to home. Well worth the $40 cost of the privilege. That is about the same as we paid for a parking sticker at Boston University in the Eighties.

First class in Labor Management tomorrow! Please, wish me a good one!

Faculty Day

"Gaudeamus, igitur,
Juvenes dum sumus.
Post jucundam juventutem,
Post molestam senectutem,
Nos habebit humus."

I cannot credit the author, whose name may well be lost in time, but that has to be the finest of college songs. Click it for the words to many verses. At the Convocation that opened our school year at Babes-Bolyai University, two verses were sung by the assembly of faculty and students in the Auditorium Maximum at the University's Main Building. Thanks to my late father's old album by The Blazers of College Drinking Songs, I could join in on the opening verse. Thanks to my New Trier High School Latin classes, I knew whereof I sang. Well into the "molestam senectutem" phase, I also know whereof the verses speak. But truly, this Fulbright experience has given me a shot of jucundae juventutum. It feels as if I have found the fountain. I even made it upstairs to the apartment this afternoon without stopping to take a breather, nor having to slow down (much)!

The day got off to a fortuitous start, when on the way to to the Faculty of Economics, which is a couple of Km from Piaţa Mihai Viteazul where I live, a VW Golf that I was following braked suddenly to avoid hitting a pedestrain who had decided to walk against the light. Not seeing the walker, I was a bit late to react. Happily, the Beamer has anti-lock brakes, which pulsed rapidly as my winter tires squealed, and I stopped not a foot from his bumper.

Now wide awake, I proceeded to the Faculty of Economics, arriving about 8:00 AM. I had tried several times Sunday to reach Mihaela, my dean, to ask where and when was our first meeting today. When I couldn't reach her, I began to fear she had gotten stuck in Bucharest, or that some other dire fate had befallen her. But no, she is fine. Her husband and she went for a walk in the woods yesterday, partly to ease the lonely feelings of new empty-nesters. Their daughter went off to university this past week, and now they must learn a new lifestyle. (Thankfully, they were not eaten by the Romanian brown bears, against whom the Fulbright staff warned us at our orientation.)

Shirley and I sympathize, Mihaela, for our youngest, Alex, is living at college for the first time this fall, and for the first time in 32 years, we have no child at home with us. And I am here, and Shirl is still in our farm house in New Hampshire, stoking the wood stove and petting her puppy Trot, and my Preston, the St. Bernard who howled pitifully last week when he heard my voice on the answering machine. Poor Mihaela. Poor Shirley. Poor Preston. C'est la vie!

So, arriving early, I spoke to the kind secretary at the Decans' offices, and was guided to meet with Maritza, the administrator of the building and equipper of faculty offices. Though very busy this first day of the term, Maritza kindly agreed to see to my having paper in my printer, my three boxes from Plymouth moved up to Room 409, where I shall be hanging my hat, and a phone installed. She then guided me to Vasile, a system engineer, who came to my office and was embarrassed at the obsolete computer he found there. He said he would fix me up with a better machine, a password to the UBB network, and an e-mail account. Feeling that the ball was rolling, I went back down to look for Mihaela at her office. In the large and elegant hallway, I was approached by a man of 50-something and two youthful companions, a boy who might be a freshman who looked the spitting image of his Dad, and a shy girl of about the same age. They asked me something in Romanian, to which I shrugged my shoulders, and explained that this was primera zi (Day 1) for me at UBB, and that I spoke only English. At that, the lad responded in quite good English, and I showed them how to find the Decan's (dean's) office for answers to their questions. An hour later, after sitting together for coffee at the vending area, we parted. And in the interval preceding our parting, Romanian culture was again revealed to me. I will explain that to you as I put it in an e-mail to my friend and colleague Bonnie Bechard, who visited UBB with some PSU students in 2006, and who plans to come back this next spring. Bonnie e-mailed me today, and asked what educational experiences I would recommend for next spring's visiting New Hampshirites. I wrote back:

You are going to be amazed how Cluj has changed. There is a beautiful new mall (Julius Mall) here now, and consumer products of all kinds are readily available, from El Cheapos to Top of the Line. The number of cars in Cluj has tripled in the past two years. Real estate has gone through the roof. It is a major boomtown. Folks tell me it is now more costly to live here than in Bucharest.

Fortunately, the countryside is still as rustic as ever, and the contrasts are stark. My main cultural recommendation is to get out of Cluj, and tour by car. Perhaps you and a grad student can rent a couple of cars, and I have mine, as well. That way we could take as many as 12 or 14 people on a ride through the countryside.

Today I met a young student, just arriving from the rustic northern town of Satu Mare. I spent a good hour with him, his Dad, and a friend, had a coffee with them, and chatted, as none of us could find the people we needed to see so early in the morning. I am now invited to spend Christmas in their home, in what they say is one of the most traditional towns in Romania. And my colleagues tell me they mean it!

Come soon, stay long. This is a wonderful people.

I met many wonderful people today, including, at the Noon convocation, Drs. Delia and Andrei MARGA. Andrei is Rector (President) of Babes-Bolyai University, and his wife Delia is head of the Faculty of Languages. (One of my brother Walter McDougall's associates, Michael Radu, at the Foreign Policy Research Institute at UPenn was once a colleague of Andrei Marga. He had asked me to remember him to Dr. Marga, which I was able to do after Convocation.) I also met many new colleagues in the Faculty of Economics, where we had a 2:00 faculty meeting, followed by a "faculty bash" not unlike those that some former Plymouth State presidents used to throw for us back in less politically correct days. Can you believe an open bar, replete with Johnny Walker Black Label? Too bad that this old Scot's diabetes precludes such luxuries, these days.

Sabbath

It was a day (mostly) of rest. Not by faithful intention, you understand, but by happenstance. After my oatmeal, I drove to the office at the Faculty of Economics, only to realize that I'd left my office keys in the cabinet above this computer. But, as readers will recall, the Julius Mall is but a short way from the office, so rather than waste the gas, I stopped there for a little shopping. A headset to allow Skype coversations came first, then paper towels, sausages, beans for soup, onions, garlic, and some Tide. (The latter not for soup.)

I returned home, hung out the now-clean load of wash, and made a sausage-bean soup. Not bad, but not one of my best. I need to find the spices on my next trip.

For those so equipped, I can be Skyped at my e-mail address.

The only real work done was that I spent awhile thinking and planning with respect to my Labor Management course. HBS has a wealth of cases and notes, mostly American-based, but Google has revealed that Romanian labor law is a current topic in the news here, so recent articles and issues will be available. Sensing that it will work out, I took a late afternoon nap, and foresee an early bed.

Questions from Home

Shirley, my beloved wife, who's trip to join me is in the offing, sent these questions today by IM.

1. You have your skype ready to go?

I loaded the program at home, but never got past the test call. I will load it again today (Sunday), and perhaps we can talk tonight. Skype is great, I am told. Another world-shrinking Internet capability. If you are a Fulbrighter, and you don't know about Skype, I suggest you Google it.

2. Do you have any english language tv news there?
The BBC and CNN are on the cable. I have yet to find the CNN channel at the apartment, but then, I have not had a chance to search for it other than casually. It may be there, or we may have to upgrade the service to get it. The full time cable Internet service, however, is proving robust here in Cluj. I have been keeping up with the news via Yahoo. Which reminds me, I was saddened to hear of Paul Newman's death. Cool dude.

3. What about newspapers?
I have yet to go to a newsstand. Probably a good one will be found at the gara. If I find the NYT, I'll let you know.

4. How are you adjusting to our apt?
It is a nice apartment in an old building. Least convenient is the fact that you have to walk up two long flights of stairs to get to it, and you have to unlock three doors to get in or out. On the plus side, it is central in the city, it is nicely furnished, it has a king-sized bed, it has wonderful views of old Cluj, and the landlords are great folk, both professors in the Faculty of Letters at UBB. I will say that after yesterday's long drive from Bucharest, I was very glad to get back here. (Pics are from our bedroom window.)

Thanks, Shirl, for leading me to provide some practical information to our readers. Keep those real-world questions coming!

Other news: I had oatmeal for breakfast for the first time in two weeks! My heart thanks Nancy Sherman for the anti-cholesterol property of her find!

Today I plan to go to my office to see if the three boxes of academic materials from Plymouth have arrived yet. I want to make the office my normal work station, so I will also start work on my syllabi today. Priority goes to Labor Management, both because it meets Wednesday, and because I am not sure what that course should contain. In America I teach it as a Labor Movement/Labor Law/Contract negotiation/Contract maintenance course. What is the context of the labor-management relationship in a formerly communist society? What are the EU/Romanian labor laws, regulaing agencies, regulations, and practices? Research needed! Today, I'll begin.

Bucharest - Brasov - Cluj with the Hayes-Sherman Family

We rose early in the Casa Victor and met at seven for breakfast, hoping for an early departure. Riding with me to Cluj were Fulbrighter Nancy Sherman and her husband and son, Pat Hayes and Evan Sherman-Hayes, who hail from Peoria, Illinois, where Nancy teaches counseling at Bradley University. As they are living in Oradea, Cluj was right on their way back from orientation, and like me, they wanted to see as much of Romania as possible, so preferred a drive by a new route to a train ride back the way they had come. But our planned departure at 7:30 became 8:30 when we went to check out.

A new girl was on the counter. It was her first morning at the hotel. I told her I owed 98 Lei. She ran my card, and presented me with a bill for 143 Lei for charges above room rent (rent was covered by the Fulbright Commission). I again explained that I should owe about 98 Lei, for two dinners totalling 83 Lei, and for three bottles of water from the minibar, at 5 Lei each. (The Lei is currently about $0.40 US.) The poor girl looked at my record, and saw that someone had entered a water at 50 lei. She had already charged my card with 143 Lei, and had no idea how to undo the transaction, which had taken some twenty minutes as she talked continuously with her boss over the telephone. Finally, another employee arrived, and told her to give me 45 lei in cash, and have me sign the charge slip, which I gladly did, once I had the change. Then Nancy went in to check out. Her bill took at least as long to straighten out. So much for an early start. By the way, the hotel's computer program was running in MS-DOS. I recognized the old DOS graphics. Whether we encountered honest errors or an attempt to rip us off, we will never know.

We loaded Brasov (pronounced "Brashoff") into the GPS and got away about an hour late, heading first toward the famous oil and gas center, Ploesti, a place I had always wanted to visit. (But as we were late, we did not look for any historical monuments there.) Bucharest's touted traffic had apparently left town Friday night, for the streets were as good as empty, and we made excellent time out of the city. But when they all left, they must have gone north to the mountains, for the roads through the ski towns one sees before Brasov were bumper-to-bumper, stop and go. But this was not all bad, as they are quite charming villages, with the architecture in the "Romanian Alpine" style. Truly spectacular cliffs and hanging valleys already filled with snow appear above the towns. Pat Hayes openend the sunroof of the BMW, and tried to get some mountain views as we crept through these towns. I hope he will send me a good one or two to post for you to see. (Pat and Nancy also tried to get snapshots of the Roma in their wagons as we drove by. If any of those turn out, Pat and Nancy, please send me a couple of them, too.)

Coming down into Brasov (which was the childhood home of Roxana (ne. Dima) Wright, my new Plymouth State University colleague), I was again reminded of the drive down into Rutland from Killington, Vermont. Brasov is built on relatively flat land, and is a bustling city of considerable size, right at the base of the Eastern Carpathian Mountains. It appeared clean and modern. I look forward to returning to meet the Dima family, so that I can tell them how glad I was that we were able to lure their daughter to teach with us at PSU.

At Brashov, our traffic problems ended. E60 (AKA Route 1) is an excellent two-lane highway that makes a fast (90 Km/Hr limit, 100+ Km indicated cruising speed) trip of it from Brasov to Cluj, across a beautiful part of Transylania, dotted with many villages of varying ethnicity. One of them has a cave 7 Km in length, from which the children of Hamlin are said to have reappeared, after being led away from that Saxony town by the Pied Piper. Legend goes on to say that these children became the ancesters of the Saxons of Transylvania. Another town we passed through is the birthplace of Vlad Tepes ("Tepesh"), who was to become legendary as Vlad the Impaler, the Romanian king who stood off the Turks for some time, and whose bloodthirsty tactics spawned the Dracula stories.

Most upsetting event of the day was Nancy's attempt to use her ATM card at one of the larger towns west of Brasov. The machine aske dher to renter her PIN. When she did, it declared her PIN invalid, and swalloed her card. The family had used their cash, and were depending on that card, which was backed at home by her Fulbright grant money, for al their financial needs in Romania. And it was Saturday afternoon. And the "Customer Service" phone number listed on the machine didn't work. We sat awhile and brainstormed what to do, and as we did Pat reached into a pocket and produced Nancy's ATM card. She had lost his to the machine. How they had been switched, no one knew, but it was serendipity, indeed, that the problem solved itself so easily.

Along the way I learned that 13-year old Evan has inherited a collection of WWI and WWII airplane models from his grandfather, who passed away some 18 months ago. He has them all over his Illinois bedroom, and has been reading up on the WWII planes. (Does that sound like someone you know, my brothers?) Needless to say, I really came to like that lad. I recommended he read Paul Brickhill's great story of RAF W/C Douglas Bader's life, "Reach for the Sky." That book meant a lot to me at abou Evan's age, and my son Alex read it a few years ago and agreed it was a good one.

After a trip to Cluj's new Julius Mall for a fast-food dinner and a successful search for oatmeal at the Hipermarket, (Romanian name of oatmeal is ovaz, and Romanians, even store clerks, stare blankly when you ask for either oatmeal or porridge), I took my new friends to the gara, to catch the last tren to Oradea (0-RAD'-e-ah), some three hours to the west.

More secure now about tomorow's breakfast, I am off to a well-earned rest.

Pictures and captions

Budapest - Antinov in Mickey D's Playland

On way to Bucharest - Monastery at Cozia



Jesse requested pictures, but he is a webhead, and I am not. The pics above relate to earlier posts. As the year wears on, perhaps I will become more skilled at illustrating my posts. Till then, I shall try to put the pictures into my words.

Today was Orientation Tour Day. We did a lot of sightseeiing, and got to know each other a bit better. It was a fine tour, professionally conducted by Bucharest tour guide Tudor Vallimarescu. We went to a museum of the Romanian royal family, wherein I learned of Romania's strong connection with Scotland. It seems Queen Marie of Romania was the daugher of the Queen of England, Mary. I will take that no further, for my knowledge of British history is weak. Suffice it to say, the Thistle was in the woodwork, and St. Andrew's Cross on a gold sword handle. St. Andrew is Patron Saint of both Romania and Scotland.

We then visited Ceausescu's monument to himself, the Parliament Building. Built while his people starved, it is grandiose, second only to the Pentagon in volume in an office building. Still incomplete when the dictator died, the people show it with mixed feelings. Without doubt it is impressive in size and elegance of detail, and it is built of polychromatic marble, mostly from Transylvania, while the carpets, drapes, and woodwork are almost all of Romanian source. Still. some Romanians told us of the pain the project caused, as large neighborhoods of Bucharest were torn down, including an old church, in order to build it, and as their economy crumbled all the while, and as the paranoia of Ceausescu led to his calling for more and more oppression.

Lunch was a two-hour affair at a beer garden, where the food was good, but only one beer allowed (on the Fulbright Commission's tab, at least).

Finally, we visited the Mogosoaia Palace, a red brick palace with a long wall around it. Before entering, Mihai said excitedly, "Come see the statue of Lenin!" I didn't know why he was so excited to show us that statue until we got behind the building.

Fulbright Orientation Day - Bucharest

Orientation meetings all day, followed by a finger-food reception in an Embassy building in the evening. Lots of very nice people provided us with lots of useful skinny on living and teaching in Romania. They also provided insight into the worldwide community of Fulbrighters. It is not a small community. There were about twenty of us newcomers to Romania. If the U.S. is sending that many to 100 or more nations, and welcoming about the same number to the U.S. A., the Fulbrighters must number in the hundreds of thousands by now. It is an important role we play, as we are here in peace and good will, and will be working directly with Romanians in the interests of both our own and our host countries. For me, it is a chance to give something back to my beloved country, for I did not serve in my youth (The Navy refused me when I applied for Naval Aviation back in 1964. I confessed to having had hay fever!).

Speaking of aviation, our meeting presentations were punctuated at one point by some "thunder" that to me sounded more like this going on above the building. Tomorrow my fellow Fulbrighters and I are scheduled to visit some points-of-interest in the Bucharest area, else I would be there.

My "classmates" in Romania seem a great bunch. I won't describe them all, but as the year goes on, my readers are likely to hear of many encounters with them. We were encouraged to form a network of mutual support, and I am one of two or three who will be in Cluj. By the way, I am by some years the senior member of this class of Fulbrighters, a fact which makes me feel even more fortunate to have been chosen.

I was especially happy finally to meet Mihai Moroiu, our Romanian Program Director at the Romanian Fulbright Commission (Fulbright-RO). Mihai chaired the orientation program, which went off with the calm efficiency I have come to count on when working with him by e-mail.

Among many other things, I learned in conversations today that the Szekelers and the name Szekely (mentioned yesterday) are Hungarian, not German, but that Mihaela was correct that those villages were German in origin, built by Saxons living in Transylvania. I had read before coming over that there were some 400,000 ethnic Germans in Transylvania before the Second World War, but that the Holocaust and postwar emigration back to Germany had reduced that number by over 90%.

When I got back to the hotel, I found Mr. Andy H's comment (in yesterday's comments) to the exact same effect. Thanks for reading and commenting, Andy! You have the distinction of being our first non-family participant in this blog. Welcome! I hope you are enjoying my narration, and that we someday will meet.

Another thing I learned was the name of the monastery we visited yesterday. It is Cozia. I will upload pictures of the interior frescos one day soon. My camera is not here right now.

I am at the hotel early, and have posted early: not yet 10:15. A chance for some much-needed rest. I have been going hard for the past ten days. Such a pace seems endemic in Romania. A hard-working people live here.

Long Ride, Short Post

Today I rose at 5:30, met my dean at 6:30, then drove with her to Bucharest. She has a one-day seminar to lead here tomorrow, and then will return by train to Cluj. She said this trip was for her a holiday, as every other day of the year she has to work. Having seen her in her office last Monday, I believe that.

It was a nice day, my first sunny day in Romania, and the scenery was beautiful. We drove through German-culture Szekeler villages with polychromatic tile-and-masonry houses along the streets, and through Roma communities. We encountered Roma (aka "Gypsies") living in their traditional nomadic covered wagons, many hitchhikers, and a few beggars along the highway. We drove through the Carpathians on a road reminiscent of New Hampshire's Kancamagus Highway, listening to Beethoven on the Ipod. About 100 Km north of Bucharest we finally found Romania's one stretch of divided highway. As we sped along it, a Gypsy on his wagon was driving above us, right in the middle of a new concrete overpass, with horse, driver and wagon all silhouetted against the afternoon sky. It would have made a National Geographic cover. But I didn't get the photo.

I was glad we weren't on a train. Bucharest was nine hours' drive, with several stops, including one at a beautiful Orthodox monastery in the mountains. I did get pictures there, and will try to post one or two soon. But tonight, I have to sleep. Fulbright orientation starts early tomorrow, and I feel like a whipped dog tonight. I am at the Hotel Casa Victor in Bucharest. Nice little place. I am going to call Shirl, and then hit the sack.

Miles to go...

Meeting more new colleagues, and miles of walking, were the features of the day. I awoke early and exchanged e-mails with Mihaela, also up at about 6:00, and to chat with Shirley online, always fun to do. Then Mircea and I met for coffee at 10:00, and walked a charming pedestrian route past a very old part of the city featuring exposed Roman foundations and the birthplace of King Matthias Corvinus, of Hungary, which Romania now claims as "The Romanian King of Hungary, Generally Acknowledged as Hungary's Greatest King." Of course, this part of Transylvania has often been part of the Hungarian Empire, so who knows the King's true ethnicity? Still, tradition does say that this is his birthplace. (Picture from wikipedia.com, at link above).

At 11:00 we met with Dean Gyemond and Professor Jucan of the European Studies faculty. I learned there that their curriculum is being broadened to include American Studies, and I agreed to take on an American Business and Economy course in the spring. Now I must learn yet another subject! Who knew just how right was Shirl when she said I was "going off to college for a year!"

After this meeting, I went to my office at Econ, a fine office, I might add, and met briefly with Mihaela, then with the Management faculty members with whom I shall be teaching this fall. My mentor in the operations management course will be Roxana Stegerean ("Steh-gehr'-en," with a soft g). Roxana attended an HBS program for Eastern European business faculty back in the early Nineties, and knows Earl Sasser, my teacher, friend, and colleague there. My TA in Labor Management will be Ph.D. candidate Monica (whose last name escapes me tonight), but who once summered in Laconia on a student work program! Roxana, too, once visited New Hampshire while doing her HBS program. Small world.

[Look out, PSU! I am learning what it means to be a professor in a University! Two courses, two TAs, and both working only with me!]

On Wednesday (tomorrow) I meet Mihaela at 06:30 for our drive to Bucharest, which I am told takes about eight hours. I hope to be there early enough to get a good night's rest before Thursday's full schedule of Fulbright orientation events.

I shan't be back in Cluj until Saturday night or Sunday. This time, I am traveling much lighter. Nevertheless, the computer is coming along, so I shall try to keep the blog going, and report on my drive through much more of Romania.

The Hard Life of the Utility Infielder

When PSU's Dr. Dan Moore first suggested I apply for a Fulbright Scholarship to teach at Babes-Bolyai University, he had just returned from his third visit here. Dan told me that UBB were looking for a versatile business professor, and said, "I immediately thought of you." What he meant was that I had broad enough academic training and business background (and enough dumb gumption) to take on courses in subjects about which I knew little-to-nothing, learn along with my students, and do a passable job in the classroom. Hence, ever since I joined the faculty at Plymouth State College, way back in 1976, I have served as the utility infielder for the business department. It happened again, today, as I agreed to step in and fill a gap by teaching Labor-Management Relations in the English language business program. Then, I pointed out to all in the meeting what a great example of labor management Dean Lutas had just demonstrated. She had gotten me to double my teaching load for the fall without having to pay me an extra penny.

Thus, today I met my new "boss," Vice Dean Dr. Mihaela Lutas. Mihaela showed me to my new office, and arranged for my having a tour of the huge (15,000 student) Faculty of Economics (their term for "School of Economics and Business"), which is equipped with beautiful lecture halls, seminar rooms, a cafeteria and exercise space for faculty with both machines and a masseur, lockers and showers, etc. It is a world class facility. My tour guides were Professor Dr. Alexandra Mutiu, with whom I shall teach management accounting in the spring, and Ph.D. candidate Melinda Plescan, who is to be my teaching assistant. I also met Prof. Ioan (John) Plaias of the Marketing Department, who was once a Fulbright Professor at UVM in Burlington, as well as a number of important staff members and other new colleagues.

As the meeting closed, Mihaela and I compared schedules and learned that we both have meetings in Bucharest on Thursday. That fact decided my transportation question. We will drive down together on Wednesday by way of Sibiu, another important Transylvanian city. That means that I will have a guide, and that we can have a really good talk on the seven-hour drive. (How wonderful it would be one day to have a chance to get to know some of our PSU administrators in such a way!) In Bucharest, I will drop Mihaela at her hotel, then join my fellow Fulbright-RO newbies at Hotel Victoria.

As Mihaela will return to Cluj by train on Thursday night, I will be driving back by myself. That gives me an opportunity to see more of the country, so I decided the time had come for a GPS.

At that point Alexandra offered to help. She has a friend who happens to be a GPS wholesaler in Cluj! Voila! An affordable unit! The Beamer is now also a navigator. I tested it out tonight, and sure enough, it guided me back to my free parking spot at the Administration building. I have contacted Romanian PSU Professor Roxana Wright to see if this Saturday would be a good time to visit her parents in Brashov, which lies on the other good road between Bucharest and Cluj-Napoca.

I continue to be impressed with the beauty and culture of Cluj, and most of all impressed with the people I have met at UBB.

Tomorrow, I shall meet with the European Studies Faculty. I am not to be teaching a course there until spring, but will likely take part in their academic life. This is where Mircea Maniu teaches. Knowing Mircea, I will be put to good use.

Romanian Hospitality

Technical Update: Last evening I solved the problem of the missing comment link. So from now on, please comment! Comments will appear the day after they are posted, so do not feel you have erred if you don't see your remarks right away.

'Twas an active day. Mircea Maniu took me on a city tour this morning, including espresso at the Panorama Restaurant, a converted auto repair shop atop a cliff overlooking the valley of the Somesul Mic, the tributary of the Danube on which Cluj was built. The view is reminiscent of San Francisco seen from Mount Tamalpais in Marin County, California, sans the Golden Gate and Bay. Mircea is an economist, a fascinating guy, and the father of a boy of 18, about to graduate from high school. We chatted about many topics as we travelled the city, including the challenge of supporting a college student in these days. Thereafter we saw several of the Babes Bolyai University locations, including the Faculties of European Studies, Letters, and Economics and Business, where I am to be based while here.

Babes-Bolyai University (http://www.ubbcluj.ro/en/) is a major urban institution, much like Northeastern University or BU in Boston. It occupies many buildings surrounding the center of the city, which is characterized by two large cathedrals, one Orthodox and one Roman Catholic, and two squares, Piaţa Unirii (Union Square) and Piaţa Mihai Viteazul, on which is our apartment building. As an intellectual center and as the former capital of Transylvania, a region long fought over by Romans, Hungarians, Turks, Russians, and more, Cluj-Napoca is a politically vibrant city, where change is the only constant, or, as they put it, and I translate, “Transition is eternal in Transylvania.”

Adjacent to the Economics Building we found a new mall, which opened only last year. Dr. Bonnie Bechard, my PSU colleague who visited here two years ago, would be amazed to see this place. Picture the Mall of New Hampshire in the middle of Cluj. It is very upscale. A Spartanburg, South Carolina-built BMW X5 SUV was on display, with a price tag of 48,000 Euros, or about $90,000 after conversion to US dollars and the local VAT. Needless to say, I ordered it delivered to my Cluj address. (Joking, there!)

Mircea and I ate lunch at the mall’s Food Court, a very good one, indeed. Then, we went looking for a GPS for my old, 1993 BMW. We still haven’t found the one I can afford. Finally, as 2:00 approached, we found a wine shop, and I bought a bottle to present to my dinner hosts, the Moldovans. Heading out of the parking lot, we passed a lot guard on a Segway. I insisted we stop. I had to relate its origin to its user. I showed him my cap, bought at The Brick Store in Bath, NH, reading "New Hampshire, Live Free or Die."

Mircea and I parted at about 1:40, having walked at least a mile around the mall, and I went up to the apartment, washed up, and dressed for Sunday dinner at the home of my new friends MOLDOVAN, Victoria and Florin. (In Romania, the family name is usually stated first, and capitalized when written out.) The Casa Moldovan is a beautiful apartment (condominium, we would say), high on the same hill as the Panorama. We dined elegantly, and shared much, as Victoria is a teacher of Romanian to foreigners, and as Florin is a geographer with much travel, and global interests. Victoria has given me a link to a Romanian language course for beginners, online. Now I must follow through on my intent to learn a new language while here.

After dinner, I joined Florin as he placed a candle and flowers at his father's grave. I, too, lit a candle for my father, who died just one year ago this week. My father’s last statement of joy to me came when I told him I was applying for a Fulbright Scholarship to go to Romania for a year. He said, “Romania? Oh my God son, isn’t that wonderful!” Dad was 91 when he died.

It was a good thing, we did at the cemetery, Florin and I.

Finally, I moved my car up to a University visitor’s parking spot, as on a weekday it would have been ticketed where it had been. Florin came with me, and we walked back to Piaţa Mihai Viteazul, stopping to buy a few breakfast supplies for the apartment, whereafter I gave Florin a New Hampshire cap, and we bid one another a good night.

Tomorrow I meet my new boss, Associate Dean at the Faculty of Economics Dr. LUTAS, Mihaela, and begin my specific preparations for teaching Management Accounting in Romania.

Why bring a car to Romania?

We made the right decision. If many former Fulbrighters have expressed frustration with auto travel in Romania, I will bet that they haven't lived for 30+ years in Northern New England. Today I left Oradea at 10:00, and arrived in Cluj about 1:30 after a breathtaking 165 Km trip across the mountains and into Transylvania. I saw storybook villages, women and children picking vegetables in the fields, very rotund women in long dresses and babushkas, seemingly out and about in every town, perhaps shopping for Saturday's bread and vegetables. Men in horsecarts full of logs, apparently of firewood grade, kept to the side of the rain-wet roads as we passed by in our 21st Century spaceships. A horesdrawn wagon full of scrap metal was being transported down an urban street in Oradea. Way out in the country, a young woman was hitchiking, though a nearly new car was parked with its driver's door open just a few meters away. A man was sitting in the driver's seat of the car. (Hmmm. Sorry, but I don't want any ... riders.)

The land I passed through today is different from any I have ever seen... and that says quite a bit. My mental image of the nicer parts of Middle Earth comes closest. And the road from Oradea to Cluj is just fine. Sure, it is a two laner, a "blue line," a "shunpike" rather than a turnpike. But I am a full-blooded shun-piker from New Hampshire. This trip was comparable in road and distance to the drive from Campton, New Hampshire to Rutland, Vermont. And, big trucks and all, it took only a little longer than that trip takes, mostly because of a traffic snarl at the Romanian Auto Registry on E60, about 8 Km southwest of Cluj. To us Northern New England folk, who cannot go east or west on expressways because there are none, Romanian highways are no worse than the roads we travel regularly. And we love those twisty, hilly, motor trails.

The local folks tell me that traffic is much worse on weekdays. I believe them. But I thank God that I carried through on my plan to come to Romania by car, for if I had flown into Cluj, I would have missed seeing Middle Earth today. And it is so worth seeing that I hope that many of my offspring (can't call them children anymore, as the youngest, Alex, is 23) will come here to celebrate Christmas with Shirl and me. I mean it, younguns. You must see Transylvania before it modernizes completely, and the only storybook figures left are in theme parks. Talk to your Mom. We can make it happen, if you want it to.

And Schmids, you must come, too. What Europe was, much of Romania still is. And that is worth a visit.

And as for the progress of the main mission...

Since I arrived in Cluj much earlier than I'd planned, I stopped to eat and to buy a cell phone, and load it up with airtime. Then I called Mircea, my former-Fulbrighter friend at Babes-Bolyai University. He then contacted guardian angel Livia, who had located our apartment for us. Both met me when I got downtown, and took me to meet the good Drs. Moldovan, Victoria and Florin, both UBB professors, and our new landlords. Both were at the apartment, and had brought o sticla cu vin alba and o sticla cu apa, cookies, as well as a lovely bowl of fruit. We sat for a good chat, then agreed to part until tomorrow at 2:00, when we shall meet for dinner.

Our apartment is large and comes equipped with a Whirlpool washer and Internet hookup. Who could ask for more? There is a lot of closet space, too. That is very good, because, as you all know, I packed heavy!

God Bless the Magyars

18 September 2008:

“Professor Duncan!” Knock, Knock. Dietmar’s deep voice at the door of Max’s room, “Ferdi wants to say goodbye, and he has to leave soon for school.” Jarred awake, I switch on the bed lamp and say, “I’ll be right there,” only to find Ferdi at my bedside for his farewell hug. It was still night in the room, though 7:30 AM and quite light outside. Is someone closing shutters at night, or is there some high-tech solar-powered anti-peeping device at work on these basement windows?

After thanking one another for the good time we all had, issuing heartfelt invitations for future visits, and after another healthy and tasty breakfast prepared by Sabine, I hit the road at about 9:00, heading for Eastern Europe.

Today has been filled with a few of the Fulbright-promised “adventures.” There was a bright sun shining, but a bit of haze in the Schwabian hills. As I went with the flow at 130 to 160 Km/Hr on the autobahn, I noticed that the views to both sides were usually restricted to high fences of wood or concrete. The only sightseeing one could do was “over the nose.” Maybe those are neighborhood noise shields. In some areas of Austria, they may be snow fences. But I’ll bet that their main purpose is to remove the driver’s temptation to look at the (sometimes spectacular) scenery. For Germans and the other Europeans who use the Autobahns, it is all about the drive. They freaking fly down the road, and when someone ahead hits his brakes, they’d better be looking at the road, or they’d be up someone’s tailpipe, PDQ.

Of course you can’t average anywhere near as fast as you cruise in the open. Around cities there are speed limits that people only abuse by 20 Km/Hr or so. And, there is a lot of construction in progress. Nevertheless, one doth certainly cover ground in these parts. Hence, I write tonight from a rest stop rooming house in Tatabanya, Hungary, only about 45 Km west of Budapest. There have been some notable events right here, though getting here was too much the adventure. So, please bear with me, this one is bound to be a long post.

I hit the Munich area before lunchtime, so decided to see that great city (home of the Bayerische Motoren Werke!) on my next opportunity. I had such a great cruise going that I decided to make it to Salzburg, Austria, for lunch. I had a fantasy of sitting in an Internet Café in Mozart Platz, e-mailing my greetings to Bob Swift, my friend and colleague from the Music Department at PSU. So, I stopped at Salzburg. Almost at once on the way into the Alte Stadt (Old City) I passed a Harley-Davidson/Chevrolet dealer. I could not NOT stop. I met there a most friendly and multilingual motorcycle salesman named Ernst, who willingly listened to my M/C tales, then found me the location of just the right Internet Café, indeed in Mozart Platz! So I took directions and drove into town. There I saw the charm of this old city. The “Blue Danube” (actually the grey-blue water of a stream fed by glaciers, as is also seen in British Columbia) flows smack down the center of Salzburg, so the town is dotted with bridges. I crossed two of them to face Mozart Platz, which turned out to be a pedestrian-only area, ringed by centuries-old buildings, and having no convenient parking save a lot by the river that had a long line of waiting cars. So, I drove up above the river to find parking, parked at a pay lot, walked across to a deli, and had a European deli sandwich for lunch: massive roll topped with poppy seeds housing two thin slices, one of salami and the other of cheese. A “Coke Light” washed it down. Looking at my watch, 2:30, I concluded that I should get back on my way East. But one day, I want to spend some real time in Salzburg, maybe at their university on my next sabbatical. (What do you mean by that reaction? I’ll only be 72!)
So I made a dash for Vienna (Wein). Great mountains appeared on the right, and some picturesque lakes. Sure wish I could have seen them better.

I got to the Vienna area about dinnertime. It was just showing signs of sunset. So, as at Munich, I decided not to enter the center of the city, but rather to try to find a small suburb with a hotel, take a room, and have a relaxed dinner. So I turned off the A21 at a town just SE of Vienna. The woman at the gas station could not tell me of any local hotels, and suggested I ask the cabbie who was replacing a headlamp bulb in her drive. I did so, and was told that there was a big “congress” in town, and hence rooms were probably scarce. (The German for “convention,” or “conference,” is "congress." I had learned this from Dietmar, who pointed out the Congresshalle in Fellbach.) So I decided to try the next town that looked promising.
I did so, but the promise proved deceptive. The town named on the exit was 7 Km south of the highway. But I did see a burg called Maria Ellend with a roadside restaurant/guesthouse. I went in, and discovered that I had to communicate with a young woman who was speaking in a language I had never heard. Was I in Hungary already?

Notable here is that neither my crossing from Germany to Austria nor my crossing from Austria into Hungary involved any contact with a government agent. The only legalistic thing I had to do was purchase a €7.50 “Vignette,” a windshield sticker that proves you’ve paid a tax in order to use Austria’s roads. The minimum Vignette is good for ten days. (That was bought at a Shell station.) It was worth it, too. The A1 across Austria is a marvelous road. I made much better time there than I had in Germany. (I wonder what hassles I’ll encounter tomorrow, at the Romanian border.)

I let the woman show me a room. She wanted €30.00 for a room without a bath. Internet? Was I kidding? I told her I would look down the road a bit, and that I might be back. But, backing and turning in the cramped lot, I got too close to a downspout on an outbuilding. “GRAUNCH!” went my sweet new-used BMW. Not to worry, though, a jar of touch-up paint came with it, and it is nearly all better after its boo-boo.

At that point I was only 221 Km from Budapest, it was about 7:00, and it was getting dark. I had a choice to make. Clearly I was now tired to the point of being unqualified to drive at 3 miles per hour, backward. So, 100 MPH forward was probably a bad idea, too. But accommodations in Budapest were bound to be much more plentiful, and of a much higher standard. I got back on the S1 and headed east again, having decided to play it by ear.

I made a stop at a small rest area. I took my “dinner pills” and other meds, and had a banana and a piece of bread from the “Doggy Bag” that Sabine had put together for me. Then I went to use the facilities.

It is a good thing that in 1989 I’d been to the Pyrenees in Spain with Jamie, where the roadside “facilities” had consisted of a hole in a concrete pad, because this room had no flush toilet, a trough for urinal, no light, a “do not drink” sign (cup in a circle with a line through it) next to the sink, and a stench that I feared Preston could smell in New Hampshire. Is this what people mean by Eastern Europe's being a cultural challenge? I should have used the grass, but I chose the urinal.

I proceeded toward Budapest. The stench was still with me. Was I imagining it, or had stale urine soaked into my leather-soled shoes? Yuck!

Up ahead I spied Golden Arches! Yep, McDonald’s to the rescue! I washed the soles of my shoes in the acceptably clean men’s room, and enjoyed a Big Mac Menu (Value Meal). No free refill for my Diet Coke, but otherwise quite comparable to their stateside fare. And the place was packed. Hmmm. I wonder why.

I drove on. Whew! The smell had abated. Then I spotted this Hotel/Restaurant at an S1 (The Road's Number) fueling station/rest area at Tatabanya, only 45 Km west of Budapest. They had a room with a shower for €26.00. No phones, no Internet, but a nice place it seemed, and I was bushed. I took it. I went out to get my overnight bag. I rummaged awhile for stuff in the car, camera, leather jacket, etc. I then locked up and headed back inside, when a man called me back. He handed me my passport wallet. Which he saw me leave on the trunk (nothing of importance in there, save three credit cards, my spare passport photos, and €100). I must have laid it there before rummaging, because I’d earlier given my passport to the desk clerk while going to the car. I thanked him, went inside, recovered my passport and room key from the clerk, and walked upstairs to Room 3. Shortly, there came a knock on my door. The desk clerk. I opened the door, and she handed me my Merrill Lynch checkbook. Another man had found that in the driveway. Him, I found and tipped.

Feeling both disoriented and in good hands, I slept well. God bless the Magyars!

[In the morning I intend to find a Starbucks (or better) in Budapest, get online, and get this posted, so that I won’t be declared missing by my readers. Then, on to Romania!]