Monday 28th
September
Rather a quiet day with the physios: Zszusa treats a young man with back pain, and also works with E---, a young girl of about 14, with spinal problems, who for the time being has to wear
a full body 'corset' 24 hours a day. There was to be no
physio tomorrow, because of the admin for the ball, which gives me a free day.
In Jackie's absence (she was in the UK), I sent a text to Adi, saying that lovely as the people here were, I really would like to get a taste of the other project, at least for my last week. He phoned to say it had already been arranged (news to me), and that my last day at Gheorghi would be Friday 10th.
In Jackie's absence (she was in the UK), I sent a text to Adi, saying that lovely as the people here were, I really would like to get a taste of the other project, at least for my last week. He phoned to say it had already been arranged (news to me), and that my last day at Gheorghi would be Friday 10th.
Tempted to use the
spare day to cycle to Lac Rosu, but felt a bit guilty just taking the
day off, so volunteered to help at the 'farm belonging to St Anne's.
Gusti (housefather who looks after the older teenage boys) drew me a small sketch map of how to reach it, and wrote a
note in Hungarian for Margit, the young Romany woman who ran it:
something along the lines of “I am Angela, volunteer at St Anne's,
and would like to help.” (Or at least, that's what I believe it
said!)
Cycled there, despite the morning fog (yellow jacket
essential, especially since I had no lights), and the map worked
fine. Met Margit, who lives in a little wooden cabin not much bigger
than a garden shed, with her three children, aged 2, 9 and 11.
(Later, she was to show me about 500 photos of them, on her phone . .
. . )
The kitchen/diner
was tiny, with just room to squeeze in a small table, and there were
flies in abundance. There was an outdoor toilet in a wooden structure
the size of a portaloo, but no washing facilities, other than dock
leaves, wet from the morning fog.
Margit spoke
Hungarian, Romanian, Russian and a bit of German, she told me. I
helped her muck out stables, scatter fresh straw for cows, feed
ducks, climbed up into the hayloft to get hay for the horses and a
small donkey, filled buckets with which to fill a water tank for the
cattle, cycled down to the shop with Margit, and had a sandwich
(salami and home grown tomatoes) with her.
After lunch, she indicated that the morning work was over and that she was resting for a while, so I went for a little spin down the road, on the bike.
I was nearly back
again, when two dogs came rushing at me, and a middle-aged man called
them back. He then started talking to me in English: transpired his
name was something like a short version of Lancelot (Lanlo?), he was
from the region, had married and gone to work in Austria, where he
found the literary old German he had learnt in school was useless to
him, gradually learnt to speak the modern version, and worked as a
service engineer. He had to be away during the week, so came home
tired at weekends, which put his marriage under strain, and ended in
divorce.
We had a long discussion about the difficulties of learning
languages, and the need to speak and listen, rather than just
learning from books; and also the strains that automation puts on
people: ie robots replacing jobs, and people being expected
to work like robots/machines. He also told me that dogs were a real
problem in Romania. People used them when they needed them, and then
abandoned them, when they no longer needed them, and could not afford to feed them.
In
Bucharest alone, 26,000 of them had had to be culled, and he guessed
the number in the villages would be similar: really quite shocking,
but I'd already been warned about the dogs in the wooded valleys near
Gheorgi. Otali, from the tourist office had told me that he lived in
one of these valleys, and it was beautiful: but even he wouldn't walk
there, because the sheepdogs were dangerous, and had become a real
problem. A few days later, I couldn't help noticing the number of
posters about a rabies elimination programme.
Lanlo told me that
when his marriage broke up, he came back here to live. It was
beautiful. and there was plenty for him to do every day, even though
he no longer 'worked' (ie in employment). However, sometimes he felt
something was missing: as we'd been discussing, work gives you
essential social interaction, sense of purpose,etc. So - I told him
about St Anne's, and said to him that if he was interested, they
would almost certainly welcome him as a volunteer, maybe to help with
homework, maybe to help with practical jobs. He said that he had
heard of them, and could well be interested - but would be away in
Budapest until early next week. He knew the farm, anyway. I resolved
to mention him at St Anne's, and wondered whether anything would come
of it. (Have I added 'volunteer recruit' to my duties?)
Cycled back towards
Gheorgi, in plenty of time to clean up before my English session with
Dalma, but got a phone call halfway back, cancelling because of
'administration' pressures. (Translated the next morning: the
boyfriend was coming to visit!) So instead of doing a conversation
session, I sent her a long text in English, for her to work out
(lol)! (The boyfriend helped her . . . )
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| Potato harvest |
Sat in warm sunshine on top of hill by the church above Lazarea, instead, then cycled back to the farm, to see if the milking was actually going to start at 6 (scheduled time), or not.
Apparently it wasn't. Chris, Gusti and some
of the boys were up there, but would soon be returning to St Anne's –
I could go with them, if I wanted. Margit would be cycling a few km
to milk her 15 cows, but would not be back until after dark. I could
go with her, if I'd like to - out here I probably wouldn't get 'done'
by the police for not having lights, they said, and I had a yellow
jacket. Be that as it may, I it was not
getting copped that I was worrying about, only getting killed! And it wasn't as if I'd
never seen a cow milked.
Since the beautiful weather was due to break on Thursday, I opted to cycle back, after helping Margit herd about 100 ducks into their pen, just making it back to Gheorgi dark. More than ready for dinner: lukewarm soup, followed by a bit of cold pasta with cheese sprinkled on top. (Better than sugar and spice, at least - 'dinner' on at least two nights.) Could have killed for some hot water that night, but nothing doing!
Went to fill water
bottle later, and found Zolan in the middle of teaching Hungarian
dance to the teenagers. Got dragged in, foot/leg slapping and all!
Huge fun – especially for Orsi, Mamma and the housemothers, who
were watching, and nearly wetting themselves . . . . at least
housefather Gusti (Augustin), and Orsie's husband 'Polly' were joining
in.
Zolan demonstrates
The group tries - a simpler version!
Wednesday, 1st
Oct
Kindergarten day. Should I join in the exercises? Dalma not too sure, so I just watched, but got a bit bored. Exercises were a bit like my junior school PE lessons, stretching, touching toes, etc. Later back in the centre, watched one of Dalma's group sessions, but still not really doing anything other than spectating. Afternoon better. Dalma was called out of the room for something, leaving a girl about 16 sitting on a larg rubber exercise ball, doing nothing. We had no common language for chatting, so I asked her to show me what she had to do, and copied her. Dalma eventually returned, to find her client tutoring me – but at least she was doing her exercises! Joined in all the exercises after that, including the ones the next small group of flat footers were doing. In the middle of one session, one of the teenagers suddenly turned to me and, evidently recalling some English lesson, says, "When is your birthday?" However, Dalma didn't seem to mind.
At the end of the
afternoon, had a short English session with Dalma, who admitted to being frightened of speaking, for fear of making mistakes. She showed
me her old school book. We 'threw it away' (not literally), and went
over to sit on the large rubber gym balls. I went to sit on the
larger one, but she indicated that was hers. And so the session began
with 'mine/yours', continuing with left, right, forward, backwards,
etc. Dalma understands a lot of English, but just needs the
confidence to speak more.
Thursday,
2nd October
Yesterday
was
apparently old people's day, in Gheorgi, and
today there is a celebration in a village called Remedea, about 16 km
from Gheorgheni, a few km beyond Lazarea,
I have been invited
to go and 'help' there, and
join in – hopefully not because of my age . . . . With things being
fairly quiet still, on the physio front, thought I might as well. Zsuzsa was OK with it, and
after speaking to Elud, from
the organisers at Caritas, thought
I'd be back at about 4 or 5,
in plenty of time to meet Adi (from Care2Travel) at 7pm.
I
was asked to be round at the Caritas office for at 12:00, but first I
took part in Zsuzsi's physio sessions, and really enjoyed them:
first, a little girl called T-----, aged 8y. She was born with
hydrocephalus, and when she first came to Zsuzsa 2 years ago, could
not speak, smile or move. She's wheelchair bound, but Zsuzsa is
doing exercises with her, working towards her
at least being able to
crawl. Zsuzsa tells me that because of her large head, it was thought
that she was unable to move normally, when she was still in her
mother's womb. They are trying a method that they have read about,
whereby exercises copy the normal pre-birth movements, and it is only
since they started these that T----- has begun to say a few words.
She still has very twisted arms, and her left side has not caught up
with her right, but now she can move, smile, and even laugh a lot. In
the ball pool, she can throw with her right arm, but not her left.
After
Zsuzsa had
given T---- some gentle massage, she encouraged
me to try out the
collection of musical instruments with her:
mainly percussion, with one small glockenspiel,
that sounds best when moving the stick up and down
the 'keyboard' to make a sound like rippling water. T----
managed the marracas on her own, and surprisingly seemed to shake
them in time to the beat. Zsuzsa
thinks music is important,
and has some
on most of the time: sometimes
classical, sometimes children's songs, dance
music, or whatever she feels suitable in mood, for whatever she is
doing with clients. The
next time T----- came in,
we even 'conducted' to Mozart, and to
Zsuzsi's delight, she
laughed and laughed.
Next, a little blind girl (thought she was a boy until the following
week, because of her very boyish haircut), called V----- . She beats
herself up if you let go of her hands, and starts the session by
slapping Zsuzsa round the face. Zsuzsa doesn't reprimand her, only
holds her to her, and tells her to give her a kiss – which she
does, throwing her arms around Zsuzsa. Zsuzsa has accidentally
double- booked an appointment, and has to give most of her attention
to E---, the girl with spinal problems, who I first met on Monday.
She asks me to swing V----- in the hammock. She is trying to help her
overcome her fear of being in the 'balls pool', which she used to
like, until with the best of intentions, her parents bought 100 balls for her to use at home, and
put her in a confined space with all of them. Now she is very
frightened of the balls pool, so Zsuzsa is gradually introducing the
balls into the hammock, where she is more relaxed: just a few at a
time, to begin with.
If you leave go of her hands for two seconds, V---- immediately tries
to punch herself in the head, and slap her own face. Zsuzsa says she
has no idea what's going on in there, and when V----- speaks and I
ask what she is saying, Zsuzsa says she doesn't know. I can't help
wondering whether she is hearing voices or other sounds, and is
punching her head to try and get rid of them. We manage to swing her
in the hammock, with a few balls around her. When she leaves, Zsuzsa
is satisfied that she is more relaxed.
Old People's Day
in Remedea
As
requested, went over to the
Caritas building at 12:00,
where I was to meet Robbi.
He and I would go with another two volunteers, to the village. First,
Elud wanted some information about me to give Robbi. (Why,
asked myself, if he
spoke English, as claimed?) At 12:30, Robbi duly turned up, wearing
a rimmed hat, and
sucking constantly on
his electronic cigarette, which he kept conveniently hanging around
his neck.
We eventually loaded the car with fizzy pop, wine, boxes of biscuits
and some rather
gruesome-looking shop cakes,
then drove round to pick up Rosie, and another lady. Rozi I had
met a couple of times before, since she also
volunteered in the physio
building, occasionally.
At the community centre in Remedea, we unloaded the car, then Robbi
gave some instructions to the other two women, who were evidently
going to be registering the old people, and collecting money. Not
much for me to do there. Robbi said he had to walk into the village
for something, and maybe I'd like to go too, for a look round? Robbi fuffs around for another 20 mins, then at last we go –
but 5 mins later, he has to call in at a shop, and then at another.
Eventually, he lets me go off and have a look round on my own, but
asks me to be back by 3:00pm. Fine. What does he want me to do then?
I'll find out, he says.
The village was originally quite old, and there are a few fairly old
buildings there, but there has also been quite an extensive
renovation programme. Got back well before 3:00, to find lots of
people still registering. At last, the proceedings began, but I was
in for a nasty shock. After droning on for about 20 minutes, Robbi
introduced me (why?!), and then handed me the microphone. “Say
something!” he hissed. “What, in Hungarian?” I asked,
incredulously. “In Hungarian or English, whatever you want,“ he
says. Am I some sort of circus act? If he had warned me, I could at least have prepared a couple of sentences in Hungarian. As it is, I'm reduced to a pathetic “Yo-na-pot! I
am Angela from the UK. I live on the border of England and Wales.
Have a good afternoon! Koosanum!” It meant nothing to
them, and Robbi, still puffing on his electronic fag every five
seconds, made no attempt to translate. I was very, very hungry, and a
bit out of sorts, and had an almost irresistable urge to pull the
irritating electronic cigarette from around his neck – and possibly
strangle him with it! But at least there was a good smell coming from
the kitchen, and we'd been told that we would be having dinner..
Before the meal, however, there was a further hour and a half of
speeches and recitations by schoolchildren to sit through (in
Hungarian, naturally), to be followed by an enjoyable display of dancing by
local schoolchildren in traditional Hungarian costumes. Robbi now said that the evening might not
after all finish until 8pm.
Halfway through the speeches, I text Adi to say I might need rescuing after he has seen Dalma, whom he is due to meet at 4pm. An hour later, I realise that if I get rescued too soon, I might miss out on the dinner, and after a week of thin soup, cold pasta and tinned liver paste, that seems like a bad idea!
It wasn't a problem. By 7pm, I'm nicely full from pork and potatoes, and I know that Adi will have finished his meeting with Orsi at St Anne's, so warn him that the event will not finish before 8pm, but that there's nothing further required of me, so I'm ready to go at any time. He texts back to say not to worry, he will stay and get on with some work, and wait for me – no rescue there!
Halfway through the speeches, I text Adi to say I might need rescuing after he has seen Dalma, whom he is due to meet at 4pm. An hour later, I realise that if I get rescued too soon, I might miss out on the dinner, and after a week of thin soup, cold pasta and tinned liver paste, that seems like a bad idea!
It wasn't a problem. By 7pm, I'm nicely full from pork and potatoes, and I know that Adi will have finished his meeting with Orsi at St Anne's, so warn him that the event will not finish before 8pm, but that there's nothing further required of me, so I'm ready to go at any time. He texts back to say not to worry, he will stay and get on with some work, and wait for me – no rescue there!
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| citeras |
It ends well, though. After the
food came dancing, and couldn't those 'oldies' dance! Involuntarily
jigging along a bit to the music myself, I suddenly find myself
being grabbed by the arm by a very round lady with an enormous bust, and whirled around for what felt
like 20 minutes, before the DJ finally stopped the music. (Joyce Grenfell's 'bust to bust' song comes to mind - but there was nothing 'stately as a galleon' about this dancing!)
Finally arrive back at St Anne's just after 8:30, to find Adi in the common room with Orsi. Both smile broadly when I walk in: it seems Adi has been fully briefed on my Hungarian dancing lessons, and stable mucking-out activities. I'm sort of expecting feedback on his 'interviews' with the physios and Orsi, but instead, he has been given forms he is supposed to fill in for Jackie, with 'some questions' – some of which we have a chuckle overr. Finally, he leaves: I have had a 13-hour day.
Finally arrive back at St Anne's just after 8:30, to find Adi in the common room with Orsi. Both smile broadly when I walk in: it seems Adi has been fully briefed on my Hungarian dancing lessons, and stable mucking-out activities. I'm sort of expecting feedback on his 'interviews' with the physios and Orsi, but instead, he has been given forms he is supposed to fill in for Jackie, with 'some questions' – some of which we have a chuckle overr. Finally, he leaves: I have had a 13-hour day.
Weekend Oct 4th/5th
Half day with the physios, and then I'm free: I've nothing arranged,
because the EKE weekend has been cancelled, and I've had a text from
Zsuzsi (the 'herb girl' whose family I met on the first EKE
weekend), to say I may be able to go and visit on Friday evening or
on Sunday. There are no buses anywhere are 7am, so with the weather
dull and a bit cold, and many of the St Anne's children going home
for the weekend after lunch, I head for the library, to see if I can
use wifi there. Here, the junior librarian speaks excellent English,
and since there is no wifi, lets me plug the cable from her own
computer into my laptop. It seems that people here cannot do enough
to help a foreigner.
Zsuzsi texts to say that they will be going to the market to sell stuff on Saturday, so won't be going out to her grandmother's house (the hub of their small business) until next week, but suggests I go along to the market: which turns out to be not just a normal market, but the annual farmers' market, where people came from miles around to buy or sell horses, cows, outsized rabbits (presumably for eating), chickens, vegetables, brooms, wooden toys, cowbells, horse bridles, jams, alcohol, herbs, creams and everything you could imagine in a country fair: not forgetting traditional food stalls.
Zsuzsi texts to say that they will be going to the market to sell stuff on Saturday, so won't be going out to her grandmother's house (the hub of their small business) until next week, but suggests I go along to the market: which turns out to be not just a normal market, but the annual farmers' market, where people came from miles around to buy or sell horses, cows, outsized rabbits (presumably for eating), chickens, vegetables, brooms, wooden toys, cowbells, horse bridles, jams, alcohol, herbs, creams and everything you could imagine in a country fair: not forgetting traditional food stalls.
Horses and carts were there in force, and colourful clothes were very much in evidence. Two of the teenage girls from St Anne's were there with horses, giving rides to young children.;and sure enough, Zsuzsi was there with her mother and cousin, selling creams, herb-filled pillows, and teas, made from all sorts of leaves and herbs, including winberry, blackcurrant and mint. Highlight to me was the making of a long, long swiss roll-shaped savoury thing. First, a long white piece of tablecloth was draped over several trestle tables. Next, some poliska ('police car'!) was spooned onto it from huge pans, and spread over the cloth by several women, working together.
Then some lumps of cheese were spooned on top, and the cloth folded, into a tube. After a while, the cloth was unwrapped again, to reveal a yellowish 'swiss roll' , which was then cut, and served together with yogurt, a slice of onion and a tomato, to all and sundry. Delicious!
Now really in the mood for food, I tried another yummy traditional
offering: a sort of pancake, made from flour and water, I believe:
the dough, ready, prepared in lumps the size of a large bread roll,
was stretched out thinly on a greased metal tray, and then deep
fried. It came out looking like a giant Yorkshire pudding, and you
could choose between fillings that were spread on top: either yogurt
topped with cheese, or jam, or chocolate spread.
Making my way back to where the girls were giving horse rides, I asked them if they were hungry. They were, of course. I bought them a traditional 'chimney cake' (doughnut-like dough wrapped around a cylindrical contraption the size of a rolling pin, barbecued, then covered with a mixture of sugar, lemon and possibly some spice), and was rewarded with hugs and smiles.
With some fine weather for Sunday, I took myself off on the bike,
past Lazarea to Ditro, from where I turned right onto a country road,
on up a long gradual hill, over a pass where a number of footpaths
crossed, and after the tarmac finished: further along the still
acceptably surfaced stone road, as far a small wooden church –
assuming that was what it was, since it appeared to be enclosed by a
wooden fence without a gate, for some reason.
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| Romanian, Hungarian and WHAT? |
Inviting as the road looked from here, curving around the hillside
with no further ascents, I resisted the tempation to continue, since
from the map, there didn't appear to be a 'proper' road back, other
than the one that I was on – and knowing that the road would
finally descent to Turghes, I didn't fancy the climb back up.
Back at Lazarea, I stopped for a rest; then, seeing two teenagers
approach on bikes, decided to try my luck in finding the traditional
music group that I'd been told lived in this village – though not
with any expectations, especially as I didn't have the language to
ask. Feeling a bit of a wally, I tried “Hol van” and then mimed a
violinist. They looked at one another, debated, and then to my
surprise, nodded. and pointed vaguely. Knocking on doors and doing
my mime act was not an option, so I pointed at my bicycle, and asked
if they would take me. We went less than 100 yards to a community
hall of some sort, and my jaw dropped, as I saw four men get out of a
car, one of them clutching a violin! I told them that I played the
cello and was interested in hearing some tradiitonal music. They were
not performing, they said, just rehearsing (for a 'cabbage festival',
no less: sadly, to be held the weekend that I would be flying home),
but I was welcome to go in and listen. Perfect!
In the room next to the stage was a traditional cello-like instrument: but 'fatter', and apparently very old, since the strings appeared to be made out of – well, string . . .
In the room next to the stage was a traditional cello-like instrument: but 'fatter', and apparently very old, since the strings appeared to be made out of – well, string . . .
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| Rehearsal at Lazarea |
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