Museum trip: MNAC

Friday's weather was just gross: negative-digit wind chill, sleet and fog. Anyone sane would have stayed indoors, but Deets and I wouldn't hear of it. The two of us busted out of our cozy abode to visit the National Museum of Contemporary Art. 

We're going downtown!

Deets looked like a rosy cheeked starfish as I stuffed him into his snowsuit and loaded him into his backpack, for a bus/metro/walking excursion to Parliament, the second largest building in the world where the museum is located (aka BFE). And as if doing Jillian Michael's "Get Ripped in 30" wasn't enough this morning, I got two more workouts hiking with a twenty four pound baby on my back. 

Museum located on exact OPPOSITE side. Keep walking lady.

20 minutes later, still not there yet.

*huff*wheeze*pant

 Apparently I was the only one who thought this was a good idea as the security guard and museum guides fussed over Deets while I peeled the layers off. We arrived at 3:00 PM and were the only visitors that day! At least we could explore all four floors of their hodgepodge collection without risk of annoying anyone. Ranging from weird to unusual, MNAC had mixed media, audio-art, tapestries (yes!), photography, and statement pieces, we saw it all. I couldn't even pretend to understand most of it, but that's contemporary art for you I guess.

Moldy violin?

Matisse did tapestry!

Even Picasso dabbled in weaving.
 Told you it was a man's job.

Artist named Flux.
I don't really know...

More Flux. 

Deets showing of his boots.

Toilet paper dust pan. I love it.

Snack time.

Geared up to hike back home.

Peles Castle, Sinaia Ski Slopes

My best friend and I were joking the other day that we probably have forgotten how awesome the mountains can be, seeing as how both live on flat terrain. She's in North Dakota, whose motto is "Liberty and Union Now and Forever, One and Inseparable," which also describes how I feel about her. So serious. On the other hand, she is the pinnacle of comedy, capable of making me laugh under any circumstance. In fact she's even made me pee my pants, which as those who know me, is not hard. But on a bike? That takes skill.

At any rate, it was she who I was thinking about today, as I went north to Sinaia, for a quick power trip. After the massive cabin fever epidemic, I was giddy to escape the city! I went with a good friend (who was on a mission to preview the mountain town before a scheduled field trip), a gregarious and kind driver (who I want to be my friend), and of course Deets (who goes where I go). We were thrilled to escape a -14C temperature to a balmy -5C. 

No frozen snot today, so happy!

Quaint and beautiful, Sinaia has one the of oldest ski resorts that peaks out at a whopping 2400 meters (7,874 feet). Two gondolas are in operation for mountainy pleasures. I enjoyed a newbie skier in tight periwinkle pants fly-wedge his way down the beginner's slope ending with a backwards down-dog. 

The gondolas are PINK!

Pretending I didn't miss making my own fresh tracks, we moved on to check out the Peles Castle, an apparent summer house for King Carol I back in 1914. It's absolutely amazing, and the prettiest I have seen yet. Alas, they were closed for touring the inside, but I don't think Deets minded.

Um, please pay attention if you will.

Feeling extravagant and hoity, we countered with a humble trip to the Sinaia Monastery, founded in 1690. 

Turns out they are open everyday, but being fueled by a hangry baby, we continued onto lunch. Afterwards, we attempted to ride the gondola as a last hurrah, but missed it by 3 minutes. Not wanting to get stuck in Bucharestian traffic, or see an atomic baby meltdown, we headed home tired but pleased by our "discoveries" made on the day. To my BFF, this town is waiting for you.

Tram/ski map. So retro. 

Snowed In

Snowed in!
Today I woke to Deets judo kicking his crib, an unhinged gate smacking into a fence, and howling winds that have permanently tilted one of our newly planted trees. I am pretty sure I saw the Wicked Witch flying by our home in the 'burbs only to be buried in untouched snowdrifts. Apparently my plans to head downtown were not meant to be.

Plan B: pretend none of this annoyed me and prepare Deets for some more in-home entertainment. He seemed successful with painting at his play group earlier, so I cracked open a shiny new package of Crayola brushes with built in paint.

Before:

After: (We're talking mili-seconds!) 

Just for comparison purposes, if there was ever any doubt of who's child he is...

1984?

Still, I was determined to make the most of my day. So several layers of clothing were applied and Jim, Deets and I went out to get some fresh air. Caterpillar tractors were pushing snow around, and hordes of shovelers were attacking the several feet of snow that dumped in the hallowed Oxford Gardens. They put a pretty good dent in snow removal, but not before gesturing my kid should be better dressed. Seriously?

Are you ready to rock?!

Toss!

Tears of joy or betrayal?

Art In Bucharest Field Trip

Free pass granted! On a last minute whim, I signed up for a walking tour of artists' studios today, guided by a lively hipster named Mircea. Mark stayed home with Deets to cook for our pending dinner party later that night! He even drove me to the metro, with sleet, slush and ice blinding our way. 

Total idiot at large.

Emerging from escalator, the metro dumped me off into a winter wonderland of Izvor Park. I made a mental note to drag Deets to yet another fabulous park of Bucharest. Our touring party began with a ceramist's studio, a fantastically cluttered basement filled with beasty and breasty sculptures. The artist, Alina Buga spoke of his trade with glowing pride; using his hands instead of a wheel to mold the clay from a lump to a masterpiece. It was quite inspiring!

Waaay more technical than the
pinch pots I made in high school. 

Cats, dogs, people with boobs. Many sculptures
were created in the likeness of diabolical politicians,
especially during communism.

The thin lipped, schnozzed snail. 

Shininess of their art comes from
polishing the surface with smooth granite.

 Hirschorn appropriate?
His n her motorized rotating heads,
 just aching to be exorcised.

I could not comprehend how they manage to get the hefty sculptures up these winding stairs to head to their 7000 cubic inch kiln that was 40km away. Their answer? Very carefully. 

Next stop, we met a father and son who share a studio in an artist's commune. The father once painted portraits of Nicolae Ceausescu and continues to paint daily, anything from landscapes to still life to portraits. His son, modestly spoke of his early career choice, starting to paint at age five when the rest of us were busy picking our noses.

Self portrait: Constantin's bearded era.

Self portrait: Clean Shave Era

 Constantin the Artist

Gorgeous flowers, buried behind a pile of frames.

Defying hunger pangs and unrelenting snowfall, our third stop was to a lovely lady who weaves tapestries. 

She weaves pictures of windows and birds. Nice lady.

She was the most animated of all the artists, interrupting our guides' interpreting regularly to tell us even more about the awesomeness of weaving. In fact, she has even won a few weaving awards, bemoaning the fact there are no good tapestry museums around. Her work was quite intricate and definitely complicated. I am sorry to say she does not weave pants. I asked.

He topped off our afternoon with a quick look at a local church named Sf. Gheoghe Nou (New St. George's Church) that was loaded with thick historical significance, complete with the tombed hand of Constantin Brancoveanu. He had tiny hands, but apparently didn't stop him from ruling a chunk of Romania (Wallachia) back in the 16 and 1700's.

Persistent rebuilding: floods, earthquakes,
or wars can't keep this fantastic church from being destroyed.

Never judge a book by it's cover:
the paintings inside are exquisite.
And very thorough: not a square inch
of space was spared of color.

Post Script for the Dog Who Almost Died

I just wanted to leave a side note that the dog we rescued last Sunday is doing just fine. She did have surgery to repair a broken hip and leg, but has been recuperating well and is expected to make an excellent recovery. Since I don't have a picture of said dog, I thought I would post one of Jim instead...

Sit Ubu Sit. Good Dog.