55 More Get-Ups

The other day my husband declared that he had only x number of "get-ups" before we leave Bucharest. He explained that when he was a high school teacher, about this time of year with summer vacation approaching, his coworkers would start counting down not just the days, but the times they had to get up, go to work, face the students etc... These were known simply as the number of "get-ups" before the luxury of unscheduled time that is summer break.

This morning, a Sunday with typical spring time partly-cloudy skies, birdies making a racket in the neighborhood, tulips in full bloom and trees leafing out - I counted my own get-ups.  It's 55, down from 475 when we arrived. (That's working days, not counting weekends and holidays.) 

Flowering tree outside of typical house in the village of Comana.

Nothing says "You're not in Kansas anymore" like buying tulips from a Roma woman outside an Orthodox cathedral.

Wisteria-covered Bucharest house. 

That makes it sound like I'm looking forward to leaving, and that's not it at all.  Funny, I recall writing about this very same mixed bag of emotions as we were preparing to leave Juarez. Each time we move, we're not just leaving a job, but also a country, a language, a climate, a style of life, a group of friends and coworkers, AND a job.  This move is going to be harder than the others because we've become far more immersed in Romanian life than we were in Mexico or Colombia. For example: in Juarez, the morning radio alarm was set to a Texas NPR station. We watched 60 Minutes every Sunday night, had US cell phones, Washington state license plates and could pop over to Target when we needed. We were even in living in the Mountain Time zone.  Sadly we were only in Colombia for one year and were only just hitting our stride there we I was called back to DC for A-100. But here - I feel steeped in all things Romanian: the language, the funny quirks of the people, the food, the climate, the driving habits, the cost of living and even the morning radio that wakes us reminds me every day that I'm not in the U.S.  And that's why we're here - to live another life.  

Plus, being a Consular Officer is the best job to have if you really want to live another life and get to know a new country. And by "get to know," I mean understand what daily lives are like, what people do for a living, what their family dynamics are, what they do in their free time and how they view their own country. After adjudicating over 26,000 visas - I've heard a LOT of stories.  As soon as I think I've heard them all - a new one comes to the window that makes me laugh, smile or shake my head. I relish having such a detailed view into the lives of the Romanian "om de rând" (average person - or literally, "person of the line") and learning what life is like behind the lacy curtains in the "bloc" apartments, or in the little cottages alongside the road. 

But now we're going back to DC where we'll be the om de rând, or just plain ole' middle-aged Americans. Not special, not unique, not standing out because of our white tennis shoes or friendly smiles at strangers.  No more, "Wow - you speak Romanian?" astonishment by waiters and cashiers that works so nicely as an ice breaker. No more marveling at new discoveries or trying to figure out what they call whipping cream here or if buttermilk exists or not. Instead, we'll just walk into the store, grab it off the shelf, and then fully understand all questions at the check-out about bags and rewards cards with no confusion about do we/don't we pre-weigh our vegetables.  I mean what fun is that? 

I was assisting a Congressional visit last weekend and one member of the group commented that I must be so excited to be returning home for the next tour.  I don't recall the exact words, but the tone was clear when she said "coming back to AMERICA" as if my parole just came through. There was an awkward pause while my mind scrambled for the best way to respond.  I came up with something about looking forward to the work I'll be doing there (true), but really feeling that I serve the country best while stationed abroad (also true).  

But the overall truth is no, right now we'd rather be on the outside looking in. Ironically, I've learned more about my own country and culture by living elsewhere these past six years.  I've come to appreciate things I'd certainly taken for granted before, while also becoming more critical about certain aspects of American life I'd just grown accustomed to.  Seeing the country through foreign eyes and hearing people tell me it's their life dream to visit, makes me prouder of the country.  I don't think I'd have understood all that by staying at home. 

Like dating more than one person before getting married, or having a bunch of different jobs before picking a career - to know what's right for us, we have also to know what isn't. I'm not yet ready to stop gaining these insights.  I think I'm drawn to the comfort of always being slightly uncomfortable, continuing to learn and see life from different angles. 

Maybe that's what this is all about?  

Blossoms and Roots

Blossoms

Springtime has hit me, metaphorically and literally.
Last Sunday I spent nearly the whole day, under amazingly bright blue skies and temps in the mid-70s, wandering through Arlington National Cemetary for my first time. With a day like that, I can't boast that I had the place to myself, but I can show you some pictures of how beautifully in full-bloom the spring trees and flowers were:

And dripping in my favorite color: pink!

I spent a good few hours exploring up and down the hills of the massive grounds, overlooking DC to the East and the Potomoc in between. For all of you who've been there already, you know the setting. Each of my sojourns into DC reignites that patriotic feeling of being part of the Big Team now, something that has carried me through the months (years) of work and waiting to get here. Therefore springtime just feels like the right season to be in now: budding, growing, opening to something better.

Roots

Meanwhile, the past six weeks - during which my classmates and I have been the target of a deluge of new information - are starting to gel and settle into our new lives. Perhaps tiny trepidatious roots are starting to grow? We've been learning about how to do our new jobs; we've researched the cultures of our new host countries; we've read the names of our new co-workers and some of us have had e-mails or even met them in person. We've completed presentations about the issues we'll encounter when we get to our assignments and a lucky few have even seen photos of our new homes (I haven't yet - but if you want to see a room full of women squeal and run to one computer monitor en masse - just announce, "I've got my housing pictures!"). All the while we're still finishing the closing up our current/old lives here.

I'm noticing that the disparate snippets of information I've been gathering are starting to fit together into full sentences of knowledge. So far it's been like one big game of Concentration, where I've been turning over two cards at a time, hoping for a match. I'm starting to remember where things are, what they mean, how they fit together. Finally. Even the Tabbies are settling into a nice routine. Each day when I come home from FSI on the shuttle with my classmates, I walk through the door, set down my bags and call out to them so they know I'm not the (dreaded-she-with-a-vacuum) housekeeper, and I hear two thumps of kitties jumping onto the carpet. Dodger always comes to greet me first, still ruffled and warm from his spot on the bed, and Toby a moment later - bellowing hello.

A routine equals roots, right? A settling-in and relaxation in one's environment.

Perhaps it's all a circle, and these roots will soon form their own blossoms.

That's all for now.