The Travel-King Arrives

Happy Easter from Romania!

I've survived nearly a full day and a half waiting in terminals and flying east in three airplanes. But here at last I sit comfortably in my grandchildren's apartment living room pecking away on Mat's laptop. The walls are sparkling orange. The two fat easy chairs are orange. The overstuffed love-seat is orange. The tied-back drapes're orange. The dark-mahogany coffee table and long-low, mahogany tv table appear black and very modern. (Mat calls his tv-table-book shelf the biblio-tech entertainment center. But I'm OLD. I can call it what I wish.) The textured wall behind the orange furniture supports a counter that separates the kitchen from the living room, and guess what!? The counter is textured and is a deeper-darker orange.

A large picture on the wall to my left picks up the orange tones. Other pictures are framed in black with pure-white mats -- a nice contrast. The biblio-tech entertainment center is lined with books shelves -- and some of those books are. . .orange. (I'm discovering that Romania is a lively and colorful place.)

The floor is made up of two-foot marble squares, and the baseboards are also marble -- or some highly polished stone. But these elegant floors, baseboards, and window and door casings are gleaming white, the only elements in this apartment that are not brightly colored. Enough to say, the entire apartment is bright, colorful -- and delightful. I feel I could sketch and color this entire engaging apartment home with one small carton of twelve crayolas. The bright ones.

Even more surprising -- and pleasing -- is that so many of the houses in the village are painted bright colors. The kids live in this orange apartment. But the apartment house itself is bright purple. In fact, as I write this posting, I am glancing out through the large glass balcony door, and I can see gold, pink, and chartreuse houses among a cluster of other houses equally colorful. Here and there from our window is a house of salmon and red. Could be I would need all the colors of a jumbo crayola box to adequately describe this village. I am told that during the twenty years since Romania threw off Communism, the grays and somber colors of that earlier period have given way to the colorful array of homes and apartment buildings I now see all around me.

This village -- Giroc, Romania -- is a community of approximately 3500 souls. Giroc (pronounced Gee-Rock) is growing, but is currently a compact community of concrete and stone homes. Think high, long, sloping tile roofs, thick-concrete walls covered in brightly-painted stucco. While home designs are varied, many remind me of Scandinavian ski lodges -- except, as I have said, they are stone and concrete, stucco-covered, rather than the sort of wooden structures so typical of American and Scandinavian homes. Add large, modern double-pane, winter-proof, steel windows and doors, and you have the sort of sturdy and impressive homes I see all around me. But, for me, the most striking feature of the community is the bright colors chosen for the homes -- nearly every color except gray. Talk about stirring color. Talk about vitality. Talk about sturdy construction! I find these houses intriguing. Makes me wonder about the people.

I hope I can meet a construction foreman in the coming week who can take the time to quickly explain to me how pipes and electrical wiring are run throughout the homes. (The homes being built or renovated appear to be solid masonry.) Perhaps they use some form of pipe chases. However Romanian builders accomplish their work, the homes are varied, very attractive, and especially sturdily built. On our walk, I saw hip-roofs, as well as long, rich-looking sloping roofs, all of colorful tile made especially to match the bright colored stucco walls. Some homes have ornate concrete gable ends with gracefully rounded edges -- a feature I somehow associate with rich Spanish homes.

The kids tell me that Giroc has become an attractive bedroom community for workers in much larger Timisoara, a commercial and industrial community nearby. There is wealth here. And much evidence of investment in new homes and extensive renovation of existing ones, too.



The first evening I arrived, Marisa and Mat took me to an Easter Carnival in a lovely park just two blocks down the street. There were carnival rides and a wide variety of exciting activities. The kids told me that Easter is somehow a larger festival than Christmas. It appeared that all 3500 Giroc citizens were present at this exciting holiday get-together. The place was swarming with people of all ages. Attractive, teen-aged girls were followed by entourages of a dozen would-be swains. Meanwhile, older people, who appeared anywhere from forty to near my age danced together in large folk-dance circles, arms wrapped warmly about each other's shoulders -- the hora, I was told. I was proud when a number of Mat&Marisa's students approached us and I was introduced as their Grampa. It was such a friendly and engaging crowd, and people of all ages milled about, greeting each other warmly, enjoying robust conversations.

Despite my awkwardness I found the dancers so attractive, I felt an almost overwhelming impulse to join a circle of dancers. But I had no language, nor any skill as a dancer. So when several of the dancers saw and felt my interest, and nodded for me to join them, I simply smiled and waved, and shook my head in what I hoped came across as a friendly manner. But I must admit, I had gotten quickly caught up in the warmth and ambiance of the setting, and I truly would have liked to have joined the dancers. But I was reluctant, and there was so much going on, so much to see, that when I was invited, I just smiled and turned away with a wave. (I confess, I well know I'm an awkward dancer -- even with the simplest steps.)

Never mind! Next Easter I'll be brave enough to join the dancers.

Anyway, it had grown late, and I'd had little sleep overnight on the plane. We soon came home and fell fast asleep. But this one incident makes me think the people are as lovely and engaging as their homes appear from the outside.

Before I close, I offer one more example of what I am discovering about the people here. Today we visited Marisa&Mat's landlord to report a leak beneath the bathroom sink. Before we knew it, we were immediately caught up into a wonderfully warm family party.


I'd tell you about the family and the party, but it's nearly midnight, and I'm exhausted. I'll tell you about the party in a short posting tomorrow.

Enough to yawn and declare
I'm glad I came to visit the kids

in Romania!