An Official Shout Out!

As George Takei always says,

!!!

Today I had the honor of being featured on another fantastic travel blog to blow some wind about our living in Romania!!! You have to check it out. We are so excited, mostly because it gave me the opportunity to talk about a place that so routinely mentally taxes my patience, yet also makes my heart explode from the beautiful things we experience.

So please, enjoy the link to part I of my debut! The blogger said I was funny (no wait, HILARIOUS) so it MUST be true! Part II will get posted tomorrow, and rest assured I will remind you to read it. Also, check out the rest of her site, it's a great reference to see what other diplomat nerds are all about.

When in Rome...

Grandpa and Grandma Schlink kicked us out of the house. Without a child or dog by our side, what were we going to do? "Rome, if you want to" was the general gag response, so Rome it was. Pretending Wizz Air was just a lovely social experiment for Romanians to assemble courteously onto a plane, we joined the crowds for a quick weekend of historic excitement, sweltering walks, and some token Schlink romance. The moment we hit the city, I was kicking myself for not having come here sooner. While I realize everyone and their mom has been to Rome, it still felt like we were uncovering incredible stories just waiting to be told. Rome is just that cool; even among the thousands of tourists that jaunt through the cobblestones, armpits to asses, you still feel alone!

I think we played our timeline well, thanks to a great NY Times article: http://travel.nytimes.com/2006/12/17/travel/17hours.html?pagewanted=all (we made 6 of his 11 suggestions) and added some extra excursions, not entirely on purpose either. We just kept finding cool things to see. I mean, there aren't too many places where you literally run into 1000 year old pillars and walls just hangin' around.

The best part of all: as the Roman stories unfolded, the historic men and women I imagined looked exactly like those camera-ready sexy folks from HBO's Rome. It was exciting and actually interesting to see where it all went down. There literally wasn't a thing I was disappointed in. (Well, maybe the broken AC unit we had to jimmy with a screwdriver at our hotel. The housekeepers were mortified a 22 week pregnant lady would desire her room to be less than 23C. Ha!)

Fountain of Trevi, 19 BC. STILL powered via aqueducts! 

Pantheon. It's just huge. 

 Galleria Borghese. Get tix ahead
(capped at 250 peeps) to see TONS Bernini sculpted
breasts, men with fruit, and merry Marys.

Randomly crave citrus? Just look around,
they are everywhere!

Have something to confess? The priest is: IN
Santa Maria Maggiore. The floor plan designed by
miraculous snowfall. No joke.

Basilica di Santa Maria delgi Angeli.
It's bigger on the inside.

Of course, the Colosseum. How could you not?

A funny thing happened on the way to the Forum.
But it was so hot, I forgot what it was.

Just some simple mosaic work, a mere 393 feet
up in the air. St. Peter's.

If you don't shell out the mere 5 Euros to hike up
St. Peter's, you're crazy. Totally worth
the sweat. And tears for some.

Everyone talks a big game of delicious food and wine to be had in Italy, but these two restaurants totally have their A-game in play. Both are Michelin/Zagat/Fodor's/Frommer's/NYT/ect reviewed for total awesomeness. Both are family owned, and both are worth making reservations. Highly recommended.

Behind door #2... AGAIN!

"Scoot down. Scoot down again. More. More. More. Now, move over. Closer to me. More" the doctor said before starting my ultrasound. Ah, the peaceful feeling of feet hanging off the exam table, without a pillow. Apparently it was too inconvenient for the OB to roll his fancy machine further up the bed so I lay on the crinkly paper more comfortably, but who am I to complain? Pulling my skirt well below my comfort zone, I was more than concerned he would insist on southern entry for this 21 week ultrasound, but thankfully he acquiesced to a small hedge exposure.

A hot cup of coffee compliments any ultrasound.

Time was nigh. Would he confirm or deny my fortune teller's prediction of the baby? Mark and I were so nervous, we could both hardly sit/lay still. Sipping his coffee in his left hand, navigating with his right, Dr. Dinu finally began the 90 minute ultrasound to inspect the bits and pieces of our unborn child on his fancy, state of the art Voluson 3D-4D machine. He started rattling off measurements to his transcriptionist who sat behind her desk, texting, googling, and typing my report all at the same time. (To give her credit, she also created a turkey glove for Deets and supplied him with highlighters and paper to play with during the fetus' moment of greatness).

Mark was thrilled to see our baby's giant liver, heart, and scrunched up stork legs. I was happy to see kidneys, spine, and brain. Even Deets got into it, pointing at the TV screen saying "babeeee!" And we were ALL dumbfounded by the realization that the household score would soon be even: Two boys, and two girls.  Hold the phone folks, the Schlinks are having a baby girl! God help us all.

Off the Beaten, Crappy Road: Viscri

On the tail end of the Schlink's monastery trip, you could imagine after 6 days of driving, sightseeing and partying, we were pretty eager to get home. Not to mention it was surprisingly chilly and rainy the entire week, and repeated wearing of only 2 pairs of pants and one sweatshirt (with a sticky toddler, mind you) was getting old. So imagine how hard I had to fake a smile and "go with the flow" when my husband suggested we make "just a quick detour" to see yet another: fortified church. Such a lovely suggestion as we had already detoured off the road to Brasov to see a medieval fortress in Rupea that was closed for renovation.

Best seen seen from good ol' E60.

Mark exclaimed, "UNESCO added Viscri to their list of must-sees, so we should do as they say!" Ah. Well, when in Rome... or rather, Romania...

There are two roads that give you access to the secluded town, and they both suck. Please forgive my crudeness, but they were worse than the road we took through the gorge when heading to Bucovina. They gave us a jolty, stomach turning ride all the way into the predominately Roma town. The town, which was wet and muddy from several day's worth of rain.

Hey lil slugger!

I instantly regretted wearing my flip flops as I slopped and slid my way to the entrance, but continued on, dodging the vast array of slugs and snails along the trail.

Outside walls added 1525.

Fluent in Romanian, French AND German.

Standing in the Lard Tower:
for storing bacon and ham.
With a guard on hand!

A little less kept than the other fortified churches, Viscri's 900 year old church (built in 1100!) was still beautiful and full of character. The fortress walls were open to explore and there was was a three level museum dedicated to the details of Saxon life: what they ate on, what they wore, what they did, even what they slept on. We were also treated to a spectacular view of the cemetery and valley beyond the walls before making our way into town where my real fun began.

A lovely foot warming selection.

Awww! Baby socks and hats.

Socks! Gorgeous, hand knitted, wool socks adorned the fence of a local's home, and I was SO into it. Apparently there is a healthy export of wool socks and accessories to Germany, helping to keep the town on the map. Our sock seller taught me how to size them by wrapping the material around my fist. If the ends meet, they will fit. (An old co-worker also once taught me a trick for sizing pants: wrap the waist band around your neck for a similar effect. Although, I would argue my waist is much fatter than the circumference of my neck these days!)

I went hog wild with shopping and was tempted to stop at more vendors on the way out, but the thick sludgy mud, buggy puddles, and ruts in the road kept me in check. It was time to head home. *Happy sigh*

Painted Monasteries

Memories of untamed roads, travel sweat, and carsickness were literally forgotten when I stepped through the doors of our first painted monastery. Situated a mere 445km from Bucharest (or about 510km if you drive Schlink-style), the painted monasteries located in Bucovina are must-see destinations. Not only because they are as old as the invention of lager beer and on UNESCO's World Heritage bucket list, but because they are incredible works of art! Thanks to Stefan cel Mare, aka Stephen the Great, aka Steve the Ottoman Gangbuster, this dude with a mustache and crown successfully resisted many war wagers between 1457-1504 and built churches and monasteries (namely Voronet) as a symbol of gratitude and enduring faith to the Romanian Orthodox Church.

While some of the artwork suffered abuses such as sun exposure and vandalism, most of the murals have retained their vibrancy thanks to the dedicated nuns who run the monasteries. 

Nice to know vandalism isn't a new fad...

One nun in particular found Deets particularly amusing and gave him chocolates before returning to work, selling tickets to mouth gapers like ourselves. Other nuns were tending to the gardens, some were giving tours (impressively changing from German to Romanian without a hitch), and others were managing their books. It was pretty cool. 

Candeeeeee!

Of the nine monasteries, we made it to three: Voronest, Moldavita, and Suceavita, each with unique identifiers and stories to tell. All the Schlinks were thrilled to have made this trip. Even Deets.

Voronet Monastery 1488

"The Last Judgement" painted in widescreen
 on the backside of Voronet. To hell, or not to hell?

Moldavita Monastery 1532

"The Siege of Constantinople" depicted on the wall of
Moldavita, compliments of Toma the Suceavan.
Serious border protection.

Sucevita Monastery 1584

"The Ladder of Virtue" a trial of sinners doomed
for hell or heaven. Successful ascension in 30 easy steps.

Inn On Balaban: Perfect if You Wanna Get Away

The in-law side of my family got to kick off their visit to Romania by driving headfirst into the hairpin glories of Transylvanian highway. I was nervous about inducing early onset car sickness on my mother in-law, but I found my peace in the green forests and valleys along the way. Escorting them to Bran Castle, they were delighted to explore its expansive stone structure above the souvenir and cheese heavy village. 

Afterwards, we made our way up a rutted dirt road a few more miles for an overnight stay at the Inn on Balaban. While I'd love to take credit for discovering this awesome hidden treasure, I can't. One of Mark's kick-ass coworkers spoke highly of the Inn and organized our stay. Greeted with an abundance of tuica, we knew this place would probably, also kick ass. It did.

During various times, we ate our weight in grilled lamb, chicken, and pig, washing it all down with fresh veggies, bread, and wine. The food comas were slept off in cozy rooms with real linen and down comforters, leaving plenty free time to read, take pictures, stare serenely, or sleep some more...

Even the drive home was soul warming. We opted to head towards Pitesti (Bucharest via HWY74 instead of DN1 so to speak) and we were not disappointed with what we saw. One caveat: the roads were far more snaky (and loooonger) and thus far more barf potential. My mother in-law passed with flying colors, Deets? Not so much.

Ripley Chonicle #4: Constanta Danza!

The month of May is last minute prep time for the kind folks in Constanta and Mamaia to gear up for bikini heavy, sunscreen lathering, party blasting beach goers for the summer season. I felt it necessary to bring my folks there to check off the Black Sea on the must-see seas list. 

Hellooooo? Anyone?

 Sadly, it was pretty much deserted with exception to a lovely couple who were awkwardly laying on a chunk of concrete, making out and batting away the sand flies to the sound of the squawking seagulls.  I'd hoped for a few more attendees, but at least it was quiet and "oceany". Beach walking was a new milestone for Deets, but he was determined and even enthusiastic to explore (eat) the millions of shells that blended in what passed for sand. 

Hm, I'm good. No need to go ANY further. Thanks.

That is, until we got to the water's edge. As if Jaws was lurking beyond the tiny waves, he made it clear we were not to venture further out than a few inches. Poor kid. I imagine had there been regular beach goers present to frolic like Baywatch in the sea, he would have been more adventurous. I know I would.

Once a lifeguard, always a lifeguard.