Snapshots of Life in Harghita County

My time in Mădăraș is coming to a close and I'm feeling melancholy and nostalgic about leaving at the end of the week.  Over the past several days, I've sunk into habit of mentally composing blog entries that seamlessly mesh my experiences in Romania with philosophical concepts that reveal something essential about the meaning of life... Unfortunately, these virtual attempts at writing seem to sap all the energy I have for actual writing.  Therefore, this post probably won't say as much as I'd imagined it would say.

Sheep of Mădăraș

I find desolate shacks charming.

In my last post I felt pretty confident about teaching; Friday, however, didn't deliver the results I hoped.  Classes 1-3 went well, but the adjective/past tense/preposition exercise I facilitated in Class 4 somehow stretched out into pointless tedium.  On the one hand, the kids seemed to have grasped the concepts; on the other hand, it was a royal waste of class time because they clearly "got" it.  After class, my translator said as much and although I agreed, it still stung to hear from someone else.  This is something I've noticed about Eastern Europe: people are honest.  On a superficial level, honesty is hailed as a positive quality.  And it is, I think.  Acknowledging that something went poorly is much better than pretending that everything is okay; now, I know what not to do.  Repeating Friday's activity is not going to constitute learning.  But, as I am both incredibly sensitive and a product of socialization in the tradition of passive-aggressive "Minnesota Nice," even this tiny dose of honesty hurt. 

Working on my "European Smile"

S and a mushroom we "hunted" in the mountains

My host mother and K in the Carpathians

Later that afternoon, I spent a good amount of time pondering honesty and contrasting it with polite lies.  I think that honesty is often avoided in safe, Midwestern social circles because true words make people uncomfortable and might come across as "mean."   But the more I thought about this, the more I realized that it's not necessarily "mean" to be honest.  In fact, isn't it more damaging to pretend that things are running smoothly if they aren't?  Despite the bruise to my ego, I resolved that getting bent out of shape because a friend verbally expressed his thoughts about the lack of success of one mere hour is an overreaction.  

Sweet, silly students from Class 3

Sz observing class from the window

Eugen Jebeleanu's poetry offers a glimpse of life under Ceaușescu's regime

That evening, S invited me to play hockey with her friends, most of whom are students of mine from Class 4.  As I chased the tennis ball and hit it with a stick, I decided that someone else's honest criticism shouldn't destroy my perception of myself.  It was one day, one class.  For some reason, the American utilitarianism is still stuck in my introspection: if I don't give an amazing performance, my worth will diminish in the eyes of others. In Romania, this utilitarian model isn't present.  (At least not with the people I've met).  Relationships trump goals.  Community, family, and hospitality are sacred.  These are values that I can relate to, and I think I would do well to adopt a bit more honesty myself.  So, while we were sitting on the bench between matches, I asked the girls what they would like to learn.  The told me that they'd rather practice speaking that writing, and that they'd like to know practical conversational phrases.  I can do that.  I also might use more audio-visual sources to make class more interesting for them.  Had I not been prompted by an honest observation that class didn't go very well, I probably would not have thought to ask for their input.

Orthodox Church in Csíkszereda

Icons on the ceiling

Since it was Friday, K and I met up with Sz and his cousin E at the pub that night.  It was a relief to be done teaching for the week, although I was (and am) feeling sad about having to leave soon.  (I have to go all the way to Oradea on Friday morning for LE's midpoint break.  I'm looking forward to hanging out with the other volunteers but I kind of wish I could skip it and just stay here for a few extra days since my next placement is also in Harghita county, and I am *so* not looking forward to 18 hours on the train.  But it's mandatory and I'm sure I'll like Oradea.  I suppose a good part of my reluctance to go is the fact that I'll be leaving all the wonderful people I've met in Mădăraș.  I really, really hate goodbyes).  At any rate, the four of us had a good time and I realized that I wasn't so bothered by honesty anymore, not in this instance at least.

Well.  I am getting quite tired and I still have to shower and lesson plan for tomorrow.  I will write more later, although I will be trying to spend as much quality time with the good folks of the village as possible.  I will again leave you with some snapshots of life here in Harghita.  Good night!

Urban Deco

In Csíkszereda