I, once again, have come down with a dreadful head cold and am sitting sprawled out on my bed, breathing heavily through my mouth. I've got Carmex smeared all over my nose and discarded tissues are littering my room, which is an all too familiar scene. So, I should be in bed, but considering the solid 10 hours of sleep I got last night and the easy day of work I had, I'm not tired. Instead I've got some tea, some fine smelling candles, and my thoughts.
I went into work today at 11, left around 2, and walked with $18. I went in again at 4 for food show (our weekly all-staff meeting where we sample the specials and listen to our boss complain) and left at 5 because I had been cut for the night. This was good news, since waitresses with an excess of phlegm and gravelly voices tend to make less. This was also bad news because I need to be making $ so that I don't starve in Scotland.
Anyway...
On Tuesday night, my newest sibling made his entrance into this grand world. Weighing in at 9 lbs. 13 oz, Michael Winfield came out at 7:59 PM absolutely healthy and beautiful, with a nice, loud set of lungs. I turned into a sobbing mess, of course, and immediately started trying to steal his thunder. We only visited for about 10 minutes, let Karyn get some rest, and went back again the next day after he was all cleaned up.
At first, I was worried about holding him. Newborn babies just look so tiny and slippery and considering how clumsy I am, I didn't want to take any chances. I quickly got convinced into it though, and spent some time bonding with the little taco bean. I kept calling him a turd and Dad was getting upset with me. He is pretty spectacular, though. I won't go into all of that "miracle of life" junk but it's pretty great that my parents made that happen. It was wonderful meeting him for the first time, but equally as great was seeing how my dad and Karyn glowed. I only have a few more months living a half hour from the lil guy, however, so I have to make it a good few months. And, maybe I should start really looking for a job.
Anyway, instead of working on the Art History paper I have due next week on de Kooning and Picasso, I believe I will continue where I left off so many months ago...
BRASOV, ROMANIA
Roughly a year ago today, Natalie and I boarded a 12 hour train heading from Budapest, Hungary, straight into the heart of Romania. And, from here on out, I will do something that I never thought I would, and that will be to pull excerpts directly from my journal, with some minor editing....
April 9th 12:41
(While writing this I was on the train going from Brasov to Bucharest, this is halfway through the entry)
"On our last night in Budapest we crashed at 12:30, got up at 5:30 for an 8:15 train. Then we spent 11 hours and 18 minutes on a train that was...questionable. Natalie and I brought along snacks galore and exchanged travel stories with some guy from North Carolinia who told us all about running from wild dogs in Mexico. Then we relaxed, considering we were both sore and horribly bruised from our caving adventure.
The Romanian countryside is breathtaking, but it also makes my heart ache. The houses are all old and crumbling, and it's not uncommon to see several horse-drawn carriages. The whole picture looks ancient and undeveloped, as if captured in a sepia-toned photograph. I am, of course, completely unaccustomed to this, but Natalie's been to Haiti before and has seen true poverty. It doesn't bother me too much, since I already know that I do want to go out and help people. The problem is focusing exactly on where, what, and how.
Once we got into Brasov, we found our hostel and promptly passed out. Yesterday we relaxed, which was sorely needed (harhar). When we first arrived, absolutely nothing was open since it was 9 PM the night before Easter. I had a princess moment when I thought that I'd have to eat rice and salt for the next 2 days straight. I, however, quickly collected myself and we mixed our rice with tomato broth soup for dinner, which was decent and filling."
I quickly wrapped up that entry because I was drooling over Magnus (hold on a moment to learn about him) and felt that I should be taking pictures out of the train window of the mountains...and Magnus.
Easter Sunday in Romania was much better than expected. The weather was glorious and Natalie and I took a little stroll into the city center of Brasov, which wasn't large, but was fairly clean and modern. We wandered into some restaurant that didn't have a hint of English anywhere, bit our vegetarian lips, and pointed at the specials page randomly. There was a #1 and a #2, so we decided to split whatever came our way.
The first thing I got was some spicy red soup with an entire fish head in it. The rest of the meal consisted of meat, meat, some overcooked asparagus, and more meat. We ate it all up...and tried not to be too sad.
We wandered a bit more through the city, and saw stray dogs sleeping in the park...adjacent to the sleeping bums. We also saw a procession of men wearing identical navy blazers, what looked like white skirts, and funny fez-like hats. One of them was playing the violin horribly and the rest of them were singing out of tune. We weren't sure what to make of it, but cheered them on.
Back at the hostel we relaxed for the rest of the night, and chatted with various people. Magnus (German), James (Spanish), and Hector (Mexican) were international students studying in Lyon, France, and were also vacationing around Eastern Europe. They were interesting, funny, and very intelligent, so we enjoyed their company. Magnus was our favorite, however, and Natalie and I immediately turned into giggling schoolgirls around him. He was studying law, extremely polite, fluent in 4 languages, well-traveled, witty, extremely good-looking, blah blah. I could really go on forever about this guy. He was husband material.
That night, while everyone was asleep and curled deep into their beds, Magnus and I stayed up late whispering to each other from across the bunk beds. I don't remember out conversation being very long and I don't remember what we chatted about but I remember going to sleep very content. Now, I'm going back to the journal, which will only prove to you all that girls get downright silly when boys pay attention to them .
(the first half of the entry)
"I am in a state of pure joy, which is fairly amazing considering how my perspective has changed so violently in the past year. Last night I showered seated and with lukewarm water, which was unique in its own way. I got to have fresh coffee this morning, along with bread with butter and peach jap. I got a full night's sleep. There is also soap and toilet paper in our current train, which is an added bonus. I am bathed, fed, slept, and the weather is glorious. Really, what else does a person need, aside from a good book?
We are seated across from an adorable old Romanian couple who look like they are brimming with worthwhile stories. The man is wearing a dress shirt, a sweater, and a sweater vest, none of which match at all. Cutie German, Mexican, and Spaniard are across the train from us, chattering happily away in French. For last night they were in our room and now we are all together on a train to Bucharest. Tonight we are in some place called Butterfly Villa, which is buried in some remote location. This doesn't set me at ease, since Bucharest is supposedly overrun with packs of wild dogs. Then, apparently Istanbul is supposed to be overrun with Australians, to honor some battle they fought in WWI on April 25th. If I have to sleep on a roof for the night, I'll live.
(and finally, here is end of the entry)
Natalie and Magnus are trading cameras across the train so that we can all get pictures from both sides. We're riding in a magnificent valley between the Carpathians, which are astonishing. Ok. I am going to wrap up this babble, since I should pay more attention to Magnus and his smile. Oh, if only my German weren't so horrible and my appearance not so bedraggled. But I am living life right now, and it's marvelous."
So, there it is, folks. Words from my actual, REAL journal. I never thought this day would come. But there's nothing too revealing in there...and I left out enough to keep it interesting.
I will do Bucharest at a later date, considering that a great deal of things happened in a period of about 30 hours and I don't want to leave out any of the suspenseful details.
Two things I feel like I should mention...
1) Magnus and I are friends on studivz.net (German facebook) but we parted ways once we arrived in Bucharest. He sent me a message about potentially visiting in Freiburg, but it never came to pass. Alas, he will have to go on the list of "Ones That Got Away"...(cue dramatic music)
2) Of all the hostels i stayed at over my 11 months in Europe, the Kismet Dao hostel in Brasov, Romania was hands down my favorite. It was a very skinny hostel spread out over 4 floors, and was a bit like a real-life version of the Weasley house from the Harry Potter books. It was very lived-in, comfortable, and quirky. I immediately liked it when I walked in and saw a large group of backpackers watching Aladdin. There were also framed quotes all over the place, about being more Zen. Even though I had to shower out of the sink when I first got there (due to lack of hot water) I still give it a hearty thumbs up.
Alright, time to scoot off to bed. My nose is about to fall off.
Oh...Magnus...
(music fades)
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