Author: Natalie Montanaro

Wish I could be a single drop of water…..

No one really knows where time goes, especially those of us who live somewhere in between our US lives and our Peace Corps lives abroad. Ask anyone who’s been there and they’ll tell you they don’t know how two plus years just seem like a fleeting moment. Day by day and week to week, the months seem to rush past like a calendar in the breeze. As seasons come and go, and milestones and markers are noted, each and every volunteer has created for themselves their own personal Peace Corps journal.

Here at Avram Iancu School, there are many things to celebrate. Kids who really have great motivation, teachers with wonderful ideas, and projects that build on the future of this small, but big-hearted city. One of these projects, named “Collect, Select and Recycle”, started on March 15th and will continue until June ending with an awards ceremony at the local Primaria which sponsored the event on June 3rd, during children’s week and town pride days here in Campia Turzii.

Last week, I met a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer whose service in Romania, from 2003-2005, made such an impact that, try as she might, it drew her back into volunteering again much like the hospitality of this country of Romania clings to your inner core and beckons you to remain just a bit longer in order to experience more of the old-world traditions, the amazingly rich countryside, and the warm groundedness of the people who reside here.

montrez-moi une fleur qui prospère à la nuance/
inutile de l’alimentation artificielle/
gauche à se développer dans le sol non fertile/
parmi les racines et les herbes embrouillées de poison

You, my friend,/
Are fifty.

March. It’s an auspicious month. One that takes its name from the god of Mars, the war-god of Roman fame. He’s red-faced and strong and won’t back down from a fight. He’s intelligent, ingenious, and one who makes a statement wherever he goes. He’s something to contend with, but only carefully.

Did you ever wonder why some people are nuts enough to want to live in places like Iceland (I happen to have a very contented friend who is a professor in Rykievik) or northern Minnesota (they love it there, Do-ent yahh knowe?)

Where were you in 1961? It was such a long time ago and many of you weren’t even born yet. But I was. And so were many others of us who answered the call to service with the US Peace Corps. Now, we are some of us grandparents, wanting to leave our own legacies to children and grandchildren. This life has given us reason to be proud.

Last month, I had the opportunity to see the only Puccini opera which I hadn’t ever seen yet performed live at the Teatrul National in Cluj-Napoca (www.teatrulnationalcluj.ro). There was a “one night only” engagement, of Tosca and on Saturday, the day before the show, I was able to garner a backstage view of this spectacular building and the set before the curtain went up on Sunday night.

Thanksgiving Day turkey, that is. With stuffing or dressing (it matters not what you call it) this is the way we celebrate our early heritage in the U. S., complete with all the fixings fit for a very hungry crowd.

Okay, I admit it. I seriously love clowns. Unlike some kids who think that they are like Hannibal Lecter in Silence of the Lambs or some ghoul in a Halloween horror movie (Friday the 13th comes to mind), these elusive creatures still can garner great fun and guffaws for me.

I’ve never considered myself a country girl, although for a time, during high school, we lived in what were affectionately called “the sticks” back in the early 70’s in the U.S.

His grand smile which in so many ways said so much about his respect for the land, his duty to others and love for the animals, his family pride, his remaining faithful to traditions of his craft despite the years of progress or change in other areas of the world, said to me “embrace it, enjoy it, relish it, own it, and cherish it” as he spoke to me in words that I never before new. On that mountain, there is a place where great things are made in humble fashion. I humbly bow to the shepherd and his flock, and will cherish as always the many lessons that I learned there.

“We soon reached his cave, but he was out shepherding, so we went inside and took stock of all that we could see. His cheese-racks were loaded with cheeses, and he had more lambs and kids than his pens could hold…When he had so done he sat down and milked his ewes and goats, all in due course, and then let each of them have her own young. He curdled half the milk and set it aside…”

Well, that’s been my mantra for as long as I can remember.  Most probably it became my theme song since life has dealt me many things…like many others who’ve lived awhile…many things unexpected, surprising and challenging.  The biggest surprise, unexpected and certainly challenging, has been my tour of duty in the U.S. Peace Corps. At 51 […]