Confessions, Realizations, and Analogies.

I'm not a patient person. I struggle to deal with people who display the same weaknesses I have. Probably because I hate them in myself so I have an automatic rejecting response to them when I see them exhibited by another. I am surprisingly insecure. Most people don't really believe that, since I can seem pretty outgoing sometimes. Many of those same people would be surprised to find out that they haven't seen "the real me" (as cliche as that sounds). 

They hopefully will not take that too personally. I think they'll understand by the end of this post. 

Last confession (and one of the bigger ones)-- i am probably the least prepared or confident or comfortable person in my major. Seriously. 

Everyone on the first day of classes went around and said why they were going into special education. Every single answer revolved around family or friends with disabilities, years of experience in schools or facilities, years of involvement in clubs, or simply an undeniable passion for working with people with disabilities. I don't have any of the above, and it frightens me to admit that. 

My teachers always say that people don't go into this major if they don't have that passion. "It takes a special person." "I'm not patient enough for that" is another common response people have when hearing what I'm studying. Every time I hear that, I freak out a little bit when I hold back that words "neither am I. What does that have to do with it? Is that a requirement? What am I getting myself into?" 

Quite honestly, on that first day of class, I told the truth "uh, it's been a long road. In my senior year, I helped out in an adapted physical education class as my own gym class credit. I liked it but it wasn't until the end of my freshman year at BYU that I changed my major to special education." 

And it's the truth. I gave them the top and bottom levels of the truth. Just glossed over the middle. Well here is the middle with all its juicy details---- you ready?

I am faking it. 

Yep. 

I changed my major as a result of a prompting I got that basically made me feel that special education was a path that I could pursue and there was something promising down that path for me. And that was enough. 

In reality, I had virtually no experience. I have no personal acquaintances with disabilities that have affected me. I volunteered at special Olympics growing up but definitely cared more about that friends I was running the games with than the athletes participating. The adapted physical education class was fun to me and sometimes gave me more perspective. I grew to love the kids I worked with. But it wasn't enough to change my life plan. 

But that prompting from God was. And I hold onto that, despite the fact that I have so little experience. I was required to get experience for some of my prerequisite classes. But that was my first real experience working with students with disabilities. Kind of a late start don't you think?

Yeah. Pretty terrifying. Well. Hold that thought. Here's the events of Romania this week with the promise that at the end, things will all tie back to my confessions. (But some of it is just recorded for the sake of me having some memories written down. Don't read into everything)

So this week was full and busy and crazy and good. It's really nice having our routine down now. Wake up, get to the orphanage before 9, work there til 12, pick up lunch. Depending on which day of the week it is, I may be hurrying to the hospital after lunch or on the other days I'm finalizing my lesson plans for the little terrors- I mean children- at the kindergarten. 

After the hospital, my roommate and I have been going on runs through the city, followed by a core workout. It's been pretty nice having a little part of the week that I feel like I can control. That sounds weird, but I mean all the work I put into the week is helping me as well as the children. But the success of my plans depends on the children as well. I can control my workouts, and it kind of helps me feel in control for a bit.

Some of you may know that I was a pretty competitive runner in high school. I planned on trying out for the BYU track team, and I was looking forward to dropping my time in the 800 during my senior year. Before the winter track season could really get going, however, I developed Achilles tendinitis in both of my feet. I cross-trained, 

went to physical therapy, met with a podiatrist, but my running year was over. To this day, I experience pain during/after running.

My roommate has had surgery on her knees, so we are both starting from scratch with this whole running thing. We are gradually upping our mileage, and although it doesn't feel like "the old days," it's starting to feel good. I've heard that (contrary to what they told me in physical therapy) it's not good to stretch your Achilles when you have chronic Achilles pain. Apparently it just leads to further development of scar tissue up in there or something...? Anywho, I've been massaging my Achilles instead after the runs. We'll see how it goes. 

The school this week was pretty typical-- hot and sweaty and crazy. But the highlight of teaching this week? When I walked over to a new group to help the teacher re-gain the children's attention, three of the little girls started cheering "teacher Elsa! Teacher Elsa!" Apparently the side braid I often throw my hair into resembled Queen Elsa's hair in Frozen. I didn't really mind that comparison. 

My braid is struggling in this picture here... The school does that. 

The hospital this week has had its ups and downs as well. We got to play with that cute little orphan girl again as well as some babies who didn't have mothers. But when we came back on Thursday, the nurses said they didn't have any orphans on that floor. It was strange- I was happy that she was well enough to leave... But scared since I had no idea what conditions she was going back to. 

The hospital is still nicer than I expected, but still a lot worse than the conditions we are used to back in the states. I've seen doctors carry children out of surgery to their rooms. Everything is dirty. It's different too, because while in the states, mothers often stay around and make sure their children are getting the care they need, here the mothers are responsible for the care. Mothers are seen laying in bed with their sick child, changing them, feeding them. It's different but interesting. 

The other day while at the hospital, I saw an entire family of gypsies standing outside the doors to the intensive care unit. They were all crying. I know that sounds like a super random and pointless story, but I've never been in a hospital when it wasn't for someone that I knew. I've always been there when I had my own worries. Walking around, searching for children to help..I guess it put me on high alert for people in need. I felt so much pain for those people that I didn't know who were so worried about their loved one. 

Random Romanian observation: people here buy flowers on the streets and walk around holding the bouquet "upside down" from our point of view. I bet it's to keep them from drooping? Not sure. 

Also, I'm pretty sure I will be hit by a car within a day of being back in Provo. I'm so used to having to just step out into the road to get the cars to stop. And they do. Except sometimes the drivers think it's funny to make you panic. They like to see the fear in your eyes. I've had a couple close calls this week haha. But yeah, Provo drivers don't really stop on a whim for you. Speaking of Provo drivers, looks like one of them dropped by to parallel park on the streets of Romania! 

Okay. Orphanage time. This is when things get real again. If you skipped the middle portion-- this is where you want to tune in again. 

First of all, don't expect any pictures of me with the orphans. It breaks my heart to say this, but it's not gonna happen. Part of the agreement that our program has with CPS states that we can't take any pictures of the children. There are even video cameras in the rooms there, so no way around it. And the hospital is the same deal. I think we can take pictures if the child's parents give us permission........ Which is not helpful seeing as we are working with orphans. But if I wanted to preserve the memory of the little...Angels... From the school, that could be an option.

Anywho, we have a lot of children in my room at the orphanage. This week has been pretty exciting in a lot of ways there. It is warm enough for the kids to go outside, so the majority of the kids go outside for an hour and a half with the workers and the other volunteer from my group. I volunteered to stay inside with some of the kids who aren't physically up to spending the time outside. I admit, the first day, I just wanted to avoid the heat. 

But it didn't take long for me to realize I made the right choice by staying in. Usually I get to stay in with a group of three to five children. When everyone else is in there, it gets so crazy and someone always needs immediate attention. But when I have that hour or two with just a few kids, I can actually give them all some one-on-one time. It's come to be the highlight of my week. 

Usually the children that stay in are some of the orphans with visual impairments on top of their other disabilities. Some of them are not very responsive, so they tend to get overlooked when the rest of the kids are crying and getting into trouble haha. 

What do we do during that time? Well it depends. Usually I sing country songs while massaging them (many of them seize up so their muscles are tense), tickling them. I've started taking a soft stuffed animal and "bouncing" it up their legs and rubbing it gently on their face. This one girl who I've never seen much more than a smile from LOVES this. I got to hear her laugh this week! It was pretty incredible. Over and over that little stuffed animal would nuzzle her neck, and she would squirm and smile and giggle as much as she was capable. It isn't much of a game, but the stimulation is so important for her. 

I made a certain girl smile at me for the first time since I've been here! She is almost completely blind, and she usually is either silent or screaming. When I play and talk to her, she usually just makes an interested face, but that's the most I get out of her. But this week was success! All it took was me rapping "Ice, Ice Baby" and she and the other kids were big fans of me. 

There is one girl (who's name for this blog will be Mary) who has completely stolen my heart. One day this week she just really wanted some love and attention. I couldn't put her down. Her body seizes up and gets so tense, so I would rub out her legs and she would just laugh and laugh. Her hands are almost always clenched into fists. She has limited vision, but regardless of if she can see me or not, looking into her eyes just makes my heart melt. I can already tell that leaving her is going to be impossible. I don't think I could leave some of them this week if I had to. And after another 3 months of spending time with them?? It's going to hurt so badly. 

Perhaps it wouldn't be so painful if the odds were more in their favor. But the rules regarding adoption are pretty strict with Romania. I came home the other day after holding Mary and researched it pretty extensively. Basically, you can only adopt from Romania if you are "related within the fourth degree of kinship" to the child or a Romanian citizen. Currently doing research on if I can get citizenship in the next three months. Stay tuned. 

It doesn't look like the adoption ban is going to change anytime soon either. It's so frustrating to me, I just want to cry. There aren't many people in Romania who have the financial security to adopt a child. And even less likely would they be secure enough to adopt a child with profound disabilities and health needs. Almost every child in my room was abandoned because the birth mom couldn't care for a child with disabilities. So many of the children I'll be leaving are not going to leave the orphanage. 

To most of them, I'm just a face who plays with them. The next group of volunteers will do the same things for the, that I am.  I'm just a playmate, a helper. I'm not Hannah. 

But it's not like that for me. They are already in my heart. They're changing me already. 

I came on this trip to help the children of Romania. But I had an ulterior motive. I want to know who I am. I want to feel confident in who I am. 

I think I'm starting to scratch the surface. I'm starting to have those little moments. Those moments when I'm holding a child, thinking solely about them and then suddenly WHAM! In comes a little thought, a realization about myself. it's like jigsaw puzzle or a scavenger hunt. Not sure which analogy applies yet. Maybe a scavenger hunt for jigsaw pieces? Each piece provides me with a little bit of a glimpse at who I am. 

But that's where things get more complicated. I am starting to realize through this whole "self-discovery kick" I'm on that it's not so much about finally pulling back the curtain and getting to see some hidden identity of mine that's been eluding me my whole life. It's much more about taking the pieces I get and arranging them into whatever picture I want to create for myself. It's about finally figuring out the possibilities of who I can be. Of who Christ can shape me into. The possibilities are endless. 

But I'm starting to scratch the surface. 

I still have a long, long way to go. I still overthink everything I say. I still overthink everything people say to me. I still spend way too much time and effort trying to win other people's approval or attention, because it makes me feel good. I still am much more uncertain behind the smiling face and jokes than almost anyone knows. 

But the difference is... I'm starting to care less. And don't worry, it's not an unhealthy emotional detachment type of caring less. It's more that through the process of caring so much about these children and just the whole new perspectives I'm developing here, I care more about them and less about everything that I thought I needed in order to "discover myself." 

This is a monastery, not a dollhouse-- I swear.

And about special education? Yeah. I made the right choice. It's not like I all of a sudden found my "green thumb" for special education. Honestly, on the first day I had to force myself out of my comfort zone to interact with the children. I was kind of nervous, since members in my group know my major and expect me to be pretty competent. So it started out with me just faking my way through it. But sometimes the actions have to precede the feelings. It didn't take long for me to love these children, and I'm becoming more and more comfortable. I'm getting experience here that cannot be replicated or understood in class. I still know that prompting pushed me in the right direction. And now I'm getting the experience of a lifetime as I am molded into the person who can actually fulfill that calling. 

I'm starting to think less and less about the people and things I've left behind. I'm still counting down to coming home, but it's more because these months are emotionally and mentally draining. I'm looking forward to the future. I'm excited to throw all my heart and energy into serving the children here. 

Don't worry. Not all of my entries will be this sappy. But this is my journal essentially for the next few months, so you can just deal with it. 

Things are changing, slowly but surely. I'm trying to make a difference in the lives here and trying to do it for all the right reasons. With the right luck and hard work, I won't be the girl you knew when I left Utah in April. 

I hope to be so much more. I just have to decide who I want to become. 

Stay classy, America. 

Sincerely, 
       The Little Wanderer 

Candid roommate laughter in the windflowers. 

Went to a movie theater in Iasi! 

First: pictures in church. 

Second: pictures on balcony of church. 

Finally: picture of the reflection on the glass door that locked behind us, leaving us stranded on the balcony until we called for help. 

I Apologize in Advance for the Selfies.

Today I saw a DOUBLE man bun. (I apologize profusely for not having a camera or phone handy). But yeah,  I guess you could say things are picking up here in Romania. 

This weekend we took a van out into the countryside to visit a fortress built in the 14th century along with a few monasteries. I'm not really sure how to begin-- there was just so much beauty packed into that one day. 

The fortress is called Cetatea Neamț, and it was so so impressive. I studied a lot of ancient cultures in my humanities classes this past school year, but it is completely different standing in the stone courtyard, looking over the landscape from the lookout, standing in the dining hall. 

I don't think pictures or words can really do any of the sites justice, but I'm going to try my best by using both. 

Apparently the region where the fortress is built used to be called Moldavia, and apparently the Moldavians really liked having torture pits/prison holes. Every room (in addition to the courtyard and the area just outside the entrance) had a deep pit which, our tour guide graciously explained, was used for either housing prisoners to starve/freeze, be eaten by rats, torn apart by lions, etc. sounds pretty glamorous, right? 

Basically Romania used to be terrifying. I now feel less upset by the fact that people on the street just glare at us as we walk down the streets. They've toned things down apparently so I should just be grateful. 

So we spent a while at the fortress, exploring and taking pictures of everything and everyone. I think we are all still in the mindset that this is a vacation. It hasn't even really hit me that we are actually LIVING here for the summer. I don't know if it's going to hit me until I'm back at home. I really hope that's not the case, because I REALLY want to live in the moment. I've never been very good at that and that's one skill I really want to develop to make my life more fulfilling.

Pretty sure that sign says something along the lines of "no climbing--stay off." Too bad I don't know how to read Romanian!

We drove a bit to visit the different monasteries, and they were beautiful! A different kind of beauty than the fortress. The artwork inside was amazing! So so cool. Ah. We were pretty sure that no pictures were allowed inside the churches... But we saw a couple others outside our group taking pictures with their flash on even, so we decided we could take some sneaky pics. You're welcome.

 

The overall impression that I took away from this weekend trip was just a feeling of wonder. But, surprisingly, it wasn't based on the fortress or the monasteries, or any of the sites we were planning on visiting. Nope. It was the landscape. The nature. The views! I cannot put into words how beautiful everything became as we drove farther and farther from the city. 

 It's funny that we drove so far to look at some beautiful buildings intended to worship God, but they cannot come CLOSE to the beauty that He created for us in this world. I just really hope I get to see more of the countryside. Romania is beautiful, guys. I can't say it enough.

Sunday was an interesting day. Our program director is in Europe visiting the different groups of volunteers in their host cities, and he was planning on meeting us at noon, which  is two hours into the three hour block of church we attend on Sunday's. Through what turned out to be a fortunate misunderstanding, the rest of our group was told to come home early so we could meet him on time. One of my roommates and I were not informed and thought people wanted to leave early just as a preparatory action and because some of them were sick (those dang adorable kiddos with their Romanian germs!). 

So we stayed for the last two hours and everyone else left at 11. I think God knew I needed some extra church that day. We ended up just sitting upstairs and reading the Book of Mormon on our own and playing some hymns until the third hour when the sister missionaries could translate Relief a Society for us. Weirdly, I felt so much more uplifted after church than I expected. As it turns out, our director didn't make it til 3 that afternoon, so I was thankful for the misunderstanding. Because I can already tell how emotionally and physically exhausting these next three months are going to be. And I'm going to need all the spiritual rejuvenation I can get. 

Today was my first full day in my assigned room at the orphanage. I'm working in a room with a pretty broad range of children. Most of them have some degree of brain paralysis as well as Down syndrome, blindness, spasticity, and other factors that make movement or communication or cognitive understanding difficult. There are a LOT of kids in that one room. It was pretty exhausting, because some kids need constant attention to prevent them from getting into trouble and others don't seem to ever get enough attention. It is pretty heart wrenching to think how without the volunteers, the children get even LESS attention. 

There is one boy in the group that I could not stop thinking about over the weekend when I was waiting to hear my assignment. His name for the sake of this blog will be Xavier. He is  17. He can understand everything being said/done around him, but he has very little control over his movements. Sometimes he can be spastic, but usually from the next down he has no movement. The first day I saw him, though, I knew I wanted to work with him. He has the most AMAZING smile. There is a little boy in him that just wants to play and be able to communicate to others. 

Today I got to work with him. And man oh man is there life in that boy. I mentioned that he understands everything being said to him. Well, that's not true when an American girl knows only 3 or 4 Romanian phrases. So I couldn't say much to him in his language, and he couldn't say anything back. But that didn't stop Xavier. 

I tried a few times to entertain him with toys or just talking to him. After a little while, we developed a way of communicating involving his eyes, his smile, and my dad attempts at miming. He pointed with his eyes! At the toy shelf to get certain toys. And then at every person and object and part of the room that he wanted me to use the toy on. It got PRETTY repetitive haha. But boy did he love it. It wasn't so much that I was doing anything that entertaining as much as the fact that we were communicating! At least that's what I think. With his limited head motion for a "no" and his happy smile for "yes" and his masterful use of his eyes, we had a blast. 

There wasn't much down time after the orphanage before my part of the group began the trek to the hospital. We found quite a few children this time! First we found a 3 month old baby without a mom attending him. We weren't sure if he was a patient without a mom or if the mom was a patient, and the baby just was being kept elsewhere in the meantime. We held him for a while before moving upstairs to see who else needed some attention. The nurses directed us to two children in the same room. My partner held the baby in that room while I played with the adorable little girl who was about 5 or 6. 

Soon gypsy woman and two men came in. Turns out the baby was hers, and she ended up attending the baby instead. We think she and her family thought we were nurses because she didn't seem weirded out by two strangers holding her baby. But as she held her baby, she began to sob. The baby was visibly unhealthy, so that's most likely what she was upset about. But things got weirder.

When the nurse came in, the mom was speaking to her and was visibly upset. At one point the mom tried to slip the nurse some money, and he nurse Adamantly refused. My partner and I tried to focus on the little girl instead, which wasn't hard, because she was ADORABLE and so fun. But my heart went out to the mom. I can't imagine the pain that would come with your child suffering. 

Things didn't get easier. The little girl loved playing with us. She definitely did not get enough attention during the days there. When we had to leave, she just kept saying "no no!" It was the hardest thing I've had to do so far. I just wanted to stay all day and never leave her alone. I felt like I was abandoning her. Ah. I need to not get so attached. This summer will be extremely difficult. I hope she's there on Wednesday when I go back. I mean, I want her to be better soon. But I don't know where she goes after that. To an orphanage? Back to a family? Friends? No one? I hate not knowing. A child that sweet deserves to be loved. 

Okay things are getting emotional on my end here. So I'm going to end with a couple happy notes. 

I saw an old man in the chess park catch a pigeon today. (Side note: it is illegal to kick or harm a pigeon in Iasi. Probably in Romania. There are a ton of them everywhere.) but yeah, he just picked one up, slowly made his way back to the bench, plopped down and then...wait for it... Began kissing the pigeon. Nothing revolting, (assuming that you're not revolted by humans kissing birds), but he just gave the pigeon a peck. HA! GET IT? Puns. But really he kissed that bird's head over and over and over. Romania is silly. PDA is the norm, even between different species.

Milka bar tally: working on number 7 currently. I slowed down a bit, because I haven't had time to run to the store. But don't worry- I'm prepared for this week.

Well... At least for the next few days.

While we're talking about food, I'll include a couple pictures of my masterpieces I created from this rice side dish they give us a lot. I'm not really sure what it is. Kind of creamy and there are orange colored pieces of something in it... But they're not carrots. Anywho, I got bored of it and decided to make art before eating it.

This is a heart. 

This is a map of Romania. This one was a tad more difficult but still fairly accurate. 

There are so many beautiful things to see and people to help here. I'm starting to understand how hard it's going to be. And how rewarding.

Stay classy, America. 

Soup-er week. Soup-erb, even!

"Have you ever been called home by the clear ringing of silver trumpets?"

Okay, so I didn't bring a trumpet to the airport, but that's the kind of celebration I wanted to have when THEY FOUND OUR LUGGAGE! All 16 bags-- hallelujah! We took a taxi to the Iasi airport to pick up our bags. I say "taxi, but I mean multiple since we have such a big group. I was the girl from our mini group who was willing/elected to go up to a taxi driver and ask him to take us to the "aeroport." Let's take a moment to talk about how impressive my accent was in that moment, though. *pats herself on the back* Between the accent and my more Romanian look, I think the driver thought I was from Romania, and he just started chatting it up. Once I said "I only speak English," the rest of the ride was pretty much done in silence. 

Also, I didn't realize that that was my first time in a car since the car crash last week. I didn't realize it would affect me, but I found myself stewing in anxiety in the shotgun seat of the car. Part of that may have been the fact that Romanian drivers are crazy, but I think the crash added to some of those fears. 

But, regardless, we made it to the airport and got our luggage! You could not have found happier girls in all of Romania that night. 

As we got home and started unpacking, I think we all started to realize how blessed we are. As much as we did NOT enjoy living off of only a few items, receiving our luggage almost pushed us into overload. At least that's how I felt. And I was one of the girls who only brought one suitcase. It just was surprising once I realized I have so much unnecessary stuff. I could get by on SO much less. Granted, I do enjoy having lots of options, but it's not necessary, and if I continue to live this way I better be living with a  much more grateful attitude. 

"You'll make him sick, you will, behaving like that!"

I think this quote could be applied to a lot of things I've witnessed/smelled so far in Romania, but I am going to focus in on the matter of PDA (public displays of affection). Depending on my mood, I can think that it is super cute or rather nauseating the way that couples go through their day without caring who is watching them snuggle, kiss, butt-grab (yep, seen it in broad daylight).

Basically, everywhere you look there is a couple either so madly in love or so oblivious that they put their affection on display for everyone.

Don't you think that's a tad much?

 I feel like all the love and PDA makes it ten times hardEr for the girls in our group missing their significant others. As it goes, I most likely will not get asked on a date for at least 6 months after returning home, because I'm pretty sure I will permanently smell like cigarettes and sewage. Showers just don't make the difference I'll need.

Also, according to the Romanian superstition that sitting on the bare floor without a rug or anything between you and it makes you infertile... I've also got that going for me.

So, you could say I'm a catch.

"We best find you some clothes. You can't go walking to Mordor in naught but your skin."

Doing laundry here is a hoot and a half. Our washer machine (thankful we have one) is in code. No words and no easily discernible indication of how to use it. We basically throw our clothing in, add detergent, and then spin the dial until we hear the water start. Sometimes it takes a few tries since it likes to spin our clothing without any water too.

Afterwards, we get to make a lovely window display for our neighbors.

Please notice the Pooh Bear pants I made in 8th grade.

Getting into our routine-- "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." 

So this week we began teaching at the kindergarten as well as attending the hospital and orphanage. I'll begin with the school. 

Here is how we looked/felt before we had our first day of teaching:

So happy. So prepared. We thought.

Our trainer told us that it is completely normal to cry on the first day. I don't think we really believed him, though. Let me preface this by saying that the children are adorable. I am SO excited to work with them in these next three months. But our first few days have been pure chaos. 

Fortunately, it was just the right amount of chaos to make it comical. (At least to me. Some did cry. I really have a weird way of dealing with stressful situations). I was in charge of the opening exercises that first day. The children were deceivingly angelic during the welcome, weather, calendar, and songs activities. When we split into groups to go so the 4 teachers that day, I was a "floater." In other words, I go between groups and help out/keep control. 

Little did we know that my responsibilities would include holding back screaming children, hiding throw-able items, separating fighting children, removing the toy bins that were being used as ammo cases for the toys they would launch at the ceiling lights and teachers. Needless to say very little English was actually taught. 

Now, before you write me off as a negative Nancy, let me say this, there is no way to describe the chaos and exhausting atmosphere in the school (did I mention the fact that there's no AC? No wonder the kids go wild!). I can't do it justice through writing. 

But there were already so many tender moments that made it so worth it. Like the little girl who copied everything I did and looked at me like I was her hero. The little boy who tried Asia hard to convey his thoughts in English when I prompted him. The girls who kept coming up and playing with my hair. The little one who silently stood up during the lesson and just hugged me. The toddler leaving with his mom who ran over to me and pulled me down so he could kiss my cheek. 

There have already been so many sweet moments that have made the insanity worth it. I know there will be more. I am trying to have a good attitude about preparing myself for lessons and not denying the children of opportunities by thinking "They are going to derail my lesson anyway so, so it doesn't matter how well I prepare." I'm definitely going to increase my patience.

Update since this blog post began: I taught today at the school. Still insane, but it actually went a lot better! I feel like I did a better job with the children, keeping control and helping them speak. I think it's just going to get better and better!

We also visited the hospital. It's very far away when you walk. In the rain. 

Me and my roommate on our way to the hospital.

Basically, we walk 30+ minutes, change into scrubs and clean shoes, and then walk up to every floor of the hospital and ask the nurses in each section, "Aveți copii fără mame?" (Do you have children without Moms?) most of the time they say no. Which is a good thing, I guess, since it means that the children there all have some sort of family caring for them. But it's unsatisfying walking all that way to be non -useful. On one of the floors today, we were told there were some children from the orphanage, but they were asleep. Better luck next time. It's a strange way of working--hoping that for the sake of the children, you don't have anything to do that day.

It's a pretty sketchy looking place in certain places, but it's a lot nicer than I expected. I was imagining scenes straight from a horror film here is reality.

And now...*drumroll*... The orphanage! First off- wow. So much nicer than I imagined. I think I came into this trip with pretty low expectations for the facilities. I was also surprised by how many of the children had disabilities. From our brief tour, it seemed that the majority of the children at the orphaned had relatively severe disabilities, while a few had more mild. We also visited two apartments deeper in the city where workers take shifts living with the child in a sort of in-between home that preps them for foster homes. Most of the children in these apartments seemed to have very mild or no disability. 

It was a long day full of many many adorable children. So many of the children in the orphanage are completely dependent on the workers for food, changing, movement, any sort of stimulation. Tomorrow we'll be rotating through to each room to get some experience with each group before selecting the room we want to be in for the summer. Honestly, I don't know what I will pick. There are children in each group that touched my heart today. I really want more experience with children with disabilities, but the infant group or the apartments would be so rewarding as well! Ah. I wish I could work with them all. I'm so glad that we are going to be going every weekday now! 

Update since beginning this blog: Today we rotated through all the rooms in the orphanage. Man oh man was it an exhausting days. I really am looking forward to it. As long as I get placed in one of  the rooms with the children with disabilities I will be so happy, because they are all such sweet spirits. I know I am going to be stretching myself no matter which group I end up with. Ah I'm just so frickin' excited!! My fingers are crampinnnn' (what's that from folks?). 

walkway up to the orphanage

Okay this post is dragging, so I'm going to post some pictures and be done with it. 

Here is a supremely attractive picture of me standing behind one of the horse-drawn trash wagons we saw when we went to visit the orphanage apartments. They smelled less than pleasant. Weirdly, it reminded me how much I want to go horseback riding.

Just one of our 579,295 pictures in front of the Palas. We are a pretty dang good looking group, if we do say so ourselves. 

So, I've decided to keep tally of how many Milka bars I eat this summer. Currently working on number 5. They are heaven. 

ALSO: I went and got my haircut while here in Romania! I am terrified of getting my haircut. I have a ridiculous emotional attachment to each hair on my head. And the fact that I could not speak the same language as the lady holding scissors over my head frightened me. But it all worked out. Although I feel like I'm basically bald now, it's so short. 

Oh right, the title of this post? The soup puns? I was going to do this long thing about how they have fed us soup every day and I'm getting sick of soup, despite the fact that it tastes good. I am too lazy to be creative anymore though. Maybe next time. 

I'm excited that things are starting to pick up. I'm super super tired already from all the walking and the orphanage and hospital today. Tomorrow will be even more exhausting. But it's all worth it. I'm not going through this alone anyways. I have support from people around me and my Heavenly Father above me. I am going to grow so much here, if I'm just willing to let myself. 

I'm exactly where I need to be right now. Now it's time to do what I need to do and become who I need to be. 

Stay classy, America.

"Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows."

So I've realized a lot of this blog is going to be me talking about weird observations I have. At least for the first few weeks when tim still getting used to things. Sorry if that's boring, but you should keep in mind that I am hopelessly awkward and have the tendency to unintentionally become the center of a comical situation. So trust me, it'll be at least entertaining at my expense.

On Friday we went to Auchen, the huge grocery store right under the mall. Sounds like a boring start to story right? BUT GUESS WHAT. Two people in the store thought I was Romanian! I guess I do blend in pretty well with the dark hair and eyes. But most of the Romanians are significantly tanner than I am. Anywho at least I must not have looked like the typical confused American girl. And while I feel bad that I couldn't help the old grandma find... whatever it was she asked for, I feel pretty proud of that fact.

And I celebrated by taking a very tourist-esque selfie. 

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard."--Gimli, The Two Towers

Now, that is a bit of an exaggeration. But seriously, I don't think I've seen. Single Romanian walking down the street smiling. They just stare at you and avoid eye contact. I'm not quite sure how they manage to do both simultaneously, but they DO.  I don't think I've seen a Romanian laughing in public either. I guess that explains why they all stare at our group so much, since we are always laughing and talking (too) loudly.

Another strange thing I've seen? Parents don't seem to worry about keeping their children close. We saw this one little boy get separated from his dad in the mall, and the dad just didn't come back looking for him. We stopped and wanted to help, but we were pretty useless without Romanian and some older women stopped instead. But how do you walk away and just not realize your child isn't with you?? Blows my mind. I guess if you lived in the city, you'd get used to it.

"You know I don't usually hold with foreign food, but this Elvish stuff - it's not bad." --Sam Gamgee

Food update. I feel bad that I seem to be one of the few people in our group who genuinely enjoys the food we are provided. Everyone else seems to be either just tolerating it or buying their own. And granted, this soup did have a bit of difficulty with the whole peas to broth and meat ratio...

 

But not a bad tasting soup! We went to the food court in the mall for a girl's birthday last night and WOW does it have options! I got the Döner Kebab, which was full of Sharma meet, and it was delectable.

"It's been four years to the day since Weathertop, Sam. It's never really healed."-- Frodo

Oh, did I not mention, I got stabbed with a knife as I was walking home the other day?

Pretty gnarly, right?

No, worries, though. It was just my roommate who sliced me. 

Still worried?

We were walking back from the store where we had purchased utensils and plates. My roommate had 

 a steak knife in her bag that poked through.  She was walking in front of me and suddenly stopped to take a picture of the adorable old men in the park (they sit and play chess there all day!) and I was right behind her.  It sliced me pretty deep haha. Interestingly enough, aside from the pain, my first thought was just, "Now I can say I've been stabbed on the streets of Romania!" Such a tourist. 

Awkward moment of the day:

I was buying clothing in H&M (because we still don't have our luggage, hoorah), and I had a bra in the middle of the three items I took into the line to buy. I wanted to be classy and not have the bra flashing around, you know? Well I can't be classy. Not in my nature. The bra hanger somehow slipped to the ground and made the loudest crash on the tile floor, causing 4 or 5 people around me to look. I quickly bent down to pick it up, but here's the thing: people in Romania don't like lines!! They either just skip ahead of you or press up unnecessarily close to you so they are all up in your grill. Well, I bent down to grab the bra, and because of how close she stood behind me, I basically 

shoved my butt into her stomach. 

Classy, right? 

I think I made up some Romanian apology and she just looked at me. And then moved in front of me. 

We did some exploring in Iasi last night, which of course means we took a thousand pictures of the palace from every angle and position. This was one of ,y favorites. The flowers here are beautiful (and take away from the common smell of cigarette smoke, sewage, and body odor). 

In our exploring, we had our first run-in with a gypsy! They were two little girls, but the oldest was the biggest problem. "Problem" meaning, she was so cute I just wanted to give in and give her all my money and play with her for hours. She kept asking us for "un leo!" I think she sensed my weakness, because she targeted me repeatedly in our group of 15. (Fun fact: I'm ALWAYS the target in haunted houses as well. Gypsies would make  great actors in those haunted houses, since they seem to share that ability of sensing us weak souls.)

She kept hugging us and touching our arms, and followed us several blocks. She was wearing roller blades, so running wasn't even an option. I thought of how people say to run downhill if being chased by a bear (I think?). I guess the best way to avoid gypsies on wheels is to go up or down stairs. They can't follow! But to be completely honest, I started to cry. It was so difficult to resist my natural instinct to help/play with a child. If I hadn't been with a group, I probably would have caved. 

This is not the most flattering picture of either of us. Trust me, that gypsy girl is adorable. (P.S. Tears began just after this pic was taken)

"Helm's Deep has but one weakness. It's outer wall is solid rock for except for a small culvert in space, which is little more than a drain." 

Did I mention that I got in trouble with the Romanian military? Yep. That happened. 

My roommate and I just wanted to take a picture of the Romanian flag billowing in the wind on the front of this stone building. When the man in military camo approached us, we didn't even realize there was a problem. Until he ordered us to stop walking and said something in Romanian. He was nicer when he realized we were some silly American girls. Turns out the building was some military building he couldn't even tell us about specifically. He made us delete the pictures and sent us on our way. Probably worried we would pass it on to give someone info about it's weaknesses! But they could probably come see it the selves. Not exactly hidden.  So, no billowing flag for you. Instead, enjoy this picture of me and my lovely roommate with gelato. 

OKAY LAST STORY. I know I said that I would be posting shorter posts, but SO MUCH HAPPENS   I just don't want to miss anything. This is more for my journaling purposes than for your entertainment anyways, so you just have to deal with it. 

Anyways. 

The night before I left for Romania, I went and sat on the temple grounds to think and write in my journal and pray before I began my adventure. I was pretty terrified of the summer ahead. As I looked at the temple, I began to pour out my heart in prayer to God; I just needed to feel His love. I prayed that Heavenly Father would send me an outpouring of His love, so that I could feel some peace about this next step in my life. I couldn't be alone. I needed to know He'd love me there too. As I prayed, a bird suddenly flew in front of me. Instantly, the following scripture popped into my mind:

 29 Are not two sparrows sold for a farthing? and one of them shall not fall on the ground without your Father.

 30 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered.

 31 Fear ye not therefore, ye are of more value than many sparrows. 

It may have been a coincidence that the bird flew by right then. Doubt it. But someone could argue that. BUT, it is no coincidence that the Holy Ghost brought that scripture to my mind and touched my heart by reminding me of my worth to Him as an answer to my prayer. 

He is mindful of me, no matter where I am and what I'm doing. He will never leave me alone. I felt so much love in that moment. I needed that  assurance to step on the plane. I'm here for a reason, whether that be to help children, influence someone I meet, or to mold me into the person God needs me to be. I'm so excited to be here. There are so many beautiful souls, especially in the Iasi branch we attended today. God is God in Romania too. The church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints offers truth and peace no matter where you go. I can't wait for my next adventure, and I'm so blessed to know My Heavenly Father is watching over me. 

Stay classy, America.