Tuesday, January 21, 2014

Europe Diary - Prague and the Czech Countryside

It's the acid drum and base beats rocking in the middle of the crowded main drag, right next to the New Town Hall and Christmas market, as if that makes total sense.  Then you follow the sound and find street musicians, with ddidgeridoos, and the smell of a joint burning from somewhere nearby.  Seems like it goes hand and hand with the music.  Freezing winter night, drops of light rain, thai massage parlors, cobblestone, acid drum and base, burning pot, delicious cuisine, boiled spiced wine.  It's just cool, colorful and funky.  Exactly the kind of place I belong.

Potato pancakes and who knows...

Our hotel was cool and funky too, although it smelled like mildew and the TV didn't work.  But that's ok, we didn't go to Prague to watch TV.

We went to walk around, and spend money.  Lots of money.  How did we spend so much money just walking around?  I don't know.  Must be the damn currency conversion.

It becomes clear the city's not afraid to create and recreate it's own identity. Modern Prague is really like a melting pot of historic structures: Bohemian, Roman, Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, Art Novo, Cubist.  Sometimes one style overlaid atop another, like a painting hidden beneath the new overcoat.  It's not unusual to find buildings in the old town with Gothic interiors, Baroque exteriors, and Roman basements.

Among the playground of art history, a generation of awake Czech flourish with paintbrushes in their hands and freedom in their hearts.

As you drive into the city, you pass a series of large new buildings, a huge shopping mall, and more new eco-buildings with living plant walls and large glass windows.  Each baring the sign of some international tech mogul: IBM, Apple, Google, HP, etc.  They are like billboards announcing the new Prague, ready to dance in the free world.

We only had 24hours in Prague, not enough time to make even a small dent in the city.  But we did leave our mark.

At one of the bridges in Kampa Island, we left a padlock.  Mari scratched our initials in with a key.  Then we held the keys in our hands and together dropped them in the water.  I felt really nervous doing this.  It means that if we ever want to unlock it, we're going to have to scuba dive down and fish them out.

These statues move.  Their butts and torsos windshield wipe at different speeds.  That's the Kafka museum.

Then there's the drive through the Czech countryside, which turned out to be as good as Prague itself.  I found a pink church, and Mari found a communist era car.

This old building is in the process of being renovated as an eco friendly wine gallery, featuring local wine vendors from the region. 

It was really cold outside.

Even though it was so overcast, cold, and some buildings loosing their cement, you could taste an aura of transformation in the air.  Nothing depressing about the countryside, just beautiful and enduring.

Thursday, January 16, 2014

Do You Feel Like a Parent?

A friend told me that she started feeling like a parent when her and her husband took their daughter to the pediatrician for the first time.  For me, it's the night before Christmas.  As Mari and I tiptoe around the creaking floors, holding freshly wrapped presents and quietly placing them under the tree, that's when it really hits me.  Then, the rest of the year I mostly feel like a kid still.

This year the kids wanted to camp out by the tree to try to catch a glimpse of Santa.  As I tucked them in (Mari was working late that night), they told me about how Santa would take them back to the North Pole to see his workshop.  I said, "No, don't go with Santa, I'll miss you too much."
"But, we'll come back!" They assured me.

Usually the living room's illuminated brightly and full of activity.  But in prepping for bed we turned out the main lights.  Only multicolored Christmas lights twinkled magically and the space felt still, Beegie Adair played in the background.  Seeing the kids wrapped in cotton and fleece blankets, I felt it was true; I would miss them too much if they went with Santa to the North Pole.  I didn't want them to go.

We didn't exactly plan to be parents.  I mean, I understand how it works and so I knew it was possible.  It didn't come as a complete surprise.  But we never sat down together and looked at our financials, had a conversation, and then started 'trying.'   I'm super impressed (and a little weirded out) by the parents who have college accounts opened when their kids are in the womb.

No, Mari and I were living in a 6'x6' bedroom in a shared 2 bed/1.5bath apartment in Mount Pleasant, DC, making $11 an hour washing towels for a cleaning company.  My bestfriend roommate was more than a little relieved when I told her we were expecting because it meant we wouldn't be making so much noise partying late at night anymore.  In six months or so we moved out completely and into my mom's house, which was closer to both our Virginia jobs at the time.  Living in DC just didn't seem so glamorous (is it ever?) with an hour commute and baby on the way.

So when Kaio was born we were just living in the suburbs - in a little bedroom, next to my mom and above my grandfather.  Four generations all in one 2500 square ft house.  Mari finally had a white collar job and so did I.  We saved all our money up to pay for a trip to Brazil while I was on Maternity leave.  We also decided to have a real wedding ceremony down there (since before we had only signed the marriage certificate at the courthouse).  Mari's real job was a temp position, helping move international telecom jobs to Poland.  We knew it was ending and so it seemed like the perfect time for a long trip to Brazil.   While we were down there my contract abruptly and surprisingly ended - on maternity leave.  So, really, neither of us had a job or health insurance for the first few months after Kaio was born!  It seemed almost futile to return to The States.  But we did anyway.

I didn't really know what I was doing as a mom.  I picked up a parenting book at my midwife's office.  It suggested letting the baby cry it out as a solution to getting a good night sleep.  I told Mari about it and we decided to try.  Kaio had originally sleep in bed with us the first month, but when we returned from Brazil my friend had given us her crib that her father built for her as a baby.  The railing wasn't FSA approved but -whatever.  We put Kaio to sleep in the bed and let him cry it out.  That damn book had convinced me this was a good idea.  I was so naive to trust this book just because it was in the midwife's office.

In the middle of the night I heard some noise from his bedroom and decided to check in.  I could hear Tata inside.  He must have walked upstairs following the crying.  I open the door and there is Tata, sitting in a desk chair by the crib, holding baby Kaio like an angel in his arms saying, "Nu Plange Mikey."  (don't cry Mikey).  Little Kaio stared up at him with serenity, completely calm and transfixed on Tata's gaze.

I can't believe this 90yr old 90lb man with dementia could lean over and pick up the plump breast fed 20lb baby out of the crib.  He called him Mikey, because he thought he was my brother as a baby.  If my brother was in the same room, he'd still call Kaio 'Mikey.'

Mikey and Mikey
Although the moment was heart warming, it scared Mari.  He didn't want to worry about Tata dropping or moving Kaio in the middle of the night.  We decided to get our own place.

I wish I hadn't looked for a job and gone to work.  I wish I had stayed home with Kaio.  We didn't really need that health insurance, although at the time it was my main driver for finding employment.  Mari landed another temp position, and then we bought a house, and the temp position ended.  So only I was employed when we signed the title papers for our new house!

But things always worked out for us.  He found a job within a month.  The next job was a temp to hire position, and he's been well off ever since.

It's not that I totally regret going back to work.  It did serve a purpose.  We wouldn't have been able to buy a house, we wouldn't have been able to accrue the savings I used to pay for yoga teacher training and am using to pay for acupuncture school now.  So It's good in that respect.  But I don't think it was the best choice for the kids.  I wish I could have been around for them more, and been more in tune with Kaio's needs as a toddler specifically.

Yes, we moved back into my mom's house.  After Tata passed away she started renting out her basement.  But she was having issue after issue with her tenants.  We were looking at ways to save money after Nala was born as we had a second daycare expense and second car expense.  It seemed like the right thing to do at the time, and I don't think we considered it a permanent solution, but it has become one.  She's a huge help and the kids love her.   I love that the kids wake up some mornings and go cuddle with her in bed.  I love an inter-generational house and us being around to help each other out.

I'd love it if you'd share.  When was the point you started feeling like an adult/parent?

Tuesday, January 7, 2014

Europe Diary - Communist Romania

The remaining evidence of a communist nation.  Apartments built by Ceaușescu during the 80's when he forced peasants out of their farms and into government created housing.  In the capitol city, he demolished historic housing units, making people sign over their homes to be leveled.  Apartment units were constructed in their place.   Every family had a government provided place to live back then.  If you had one child you were given an extra bedroom, two children of different sexes and you were given another, the bigger the family the bigger the apartment.  Birth control and abortion was outlawed, and families were encouraged to grow the nation as a duty.  However the food rationing and dire conditions of living discouraged many woman from going full term with their pregnancies and many had illegal underground abortions.  My great aunt had two children and eight abortions.  There is a 2007 Romanian film about this if you are interested called 4 Months, 3 weeks, and 2 days that won a Cannes Film Festival award.

Communism began turning sour in Romania in the 1980s, after the government took out huge IMF loan to payback debt.  Ceaușescu had attempted to make Romania an industrial powerhouse and built huge factories with capacity production higher than local and international demand.  After an oil deal with with Iran fell through following the 1979 Iranian Revolution, Romania needed a loan to pay off its international debt.  Romanians are hard workers, with a great deal of pride, and the government set a plan to pay back the loan as quickly as possible.  Unlike some of the EU countries now-a-days that are deferring on their debt in the face of economic crisis, the Romanian government stuck austerity measures unimaginable by European standards today.   This led to an era of blanketed poverty.  Babies died in neonatal units during power outages, people spent the night in in grocery lines to receive their food rations, and the government rewrote the food pyramid to reduce caloric intake and make the populace vegetarian.  You needed written permission to slaughter a pig.  It was totally crazy, but Romania paid off the debt on track.

My family (mom, uncle, grandfather and grandmother) left in 1969, well before the crisis began, but I guess my grandfather, Tata, recognized the danger ahead.  He was born in 1915 in the USA when his parents had spent many years working at a tobacco factory rolling cigarettes.  They had 5 pregnancies during that time, but only 2 of the children survived, the other died of small pox very young (like under 6 years old).  Tata tried using his dual US/Romanian citizenship to get out of the county.  For six years he lobbied and was put in jail, tracked by the special police, and basically on a shit list at a time when communism was actually pretty popular.  

In 1968 Romania stuck out from other countries in the Eastern Bloc due to Ceaușescu's defiant reaction to the Soviet Warsaw Pack invasion of Czechoslovakia.   Ceaușescu put Romania under the radar as beacon of rationality peaking from behind the iron curtain.  His actions drew the attention of America, and in August of 1969, President Nixon made a trip to visit the country and initiate trade between the USA and Romania, identifying Romania as a Most Favored Nation (MFN).  

In a July1969 State Department memo from the Chairman of National Security to Nixon, advising on improving relations with Romania, there is mention of my family, "Another important US concern, although not of an economic nature, is to help dual national and other in Romania eligible for emigration to the United States to leave Romania.  Despite Romanian pledges, progress has been slow.  Only some 100 of approximately 2,500 individual cases have been favorably resolved.  You might wish to couple an offer of MFN with the recommendation that Romania act to release these individuals, indicating that such action would increase Congressional receptivity."

My mom said that Romania ended up releasing over a 1000 families following Nixon's visit.  They left with no documents, no money, no idea how to speak a word of English.  They were not allowed to tell anyone, even relatives, they were leaving.  So these families basically just disappeared one day.  They were given notice in August, and in October they got on the plane, knowing they would possibly and probably never see anyone from their life there ever again. Tata was 55 at the time.  Can you imagine starting a whole new life at that age?   He had no intention of becoming successful or even learning English, he just wanted his kids to have a chance at a better future than what he believed Romania could offer.  A year later his mom, my great grandmother who had worked in the US cigarette factory died in Romania,  she had desperately wanted to visit, but wasn't allowed to leave.

 On the plane my grandmother sat next to the wife of the then VP of BMW, she had traveled to Romania to try to (unsuccessfully) buy her family out of the country.  She gave my grandmother $50, and that's what they started with.  That and some clothes are all they had when they landed on US soil.

A woman from the Trenton Catholic Church met them at the airport in New Jersey.  She helped them rent an apartment and find a job working at a factory.  I'm pretty sure that Tata was one of those, "I used to walk a mile in the snow with holes in my shoes." kind of guys.  

My mom was 17 when they came to the US and school in the states was so different than in Communist Romania.  There kids were perfectly behaved, obedient, submissive, and expected to maintain an educational standard much higher than in the US.  Teachers beat on desks with sticks to scare students into giving answers, and parents bribed teachers with chickens, money, and favors.  Her mom was a teacher and so some of the other teachers in her school knew they were leaving to the US.

A resentful teacher told her, "You think dogs walk around with pretzels for tails and money grows on trees there?"  

"No, I don't know what its like, I'm just going because my parents are going."  She responded.

Her favorite math teacher gave his blessing, "I have family in Germany and I would leave too if I could.  You are going to do great things there."

Math was her favorite subject, and when she met with the principle at her new school in Trenton she begged to take a math class.  Although she didn't know English, a Romanian priest from the local church came with her and translated.  The principle said that girls take Home Ec.  

"What's Home Ec?" she was confused.  

"It's cooking."  He stated definitively.

"I am good at math, can I take a math class?" she insisted.

He agreed to let her try Algebra and on the first day she started the class was having a test.  The teacher told her that she didn't need to take it since she hadn't studied the material.  But she asked to take it.  In 7 minutes she was the first one to finish the 40 questions and handed it in 100% correct.  It was easy x + 1 = 5 kind of stuff and she could have done it with her eyes closed.  The teacher said, "You could teach this class."

"No, I don't need to take this class." she replied.  

He then persuaded the principle to move her into Trig, and eventually into Calculus.  There were 2 other girls and 4 boys in that calculus class, even though -according to the principle- "Girls don't take math, they take Home Ec."

The dictatorship of Ceaușescu's communist leadership ended on Christmas 1989.  The Berlin wall fell in November, and while leaders from other countries in the Eastern Bloc were bowing out of power in the face of public disapproval, Ceaușescu insisted on keeping rule over his "children."  

A pastor from the western city of Timișoara had been criticizing the government during themes in his sermons. On Dec 21st the government ordered a bishop from the church to remove and evict him on grounds of inciting ethnic hatred.  Parishioners and students from the local university gathered around his house to protect him from eviction.   This eventually escalated to riots in the city, people taking over the National Communist Party headquarters, throwing communist documents out the windows and trying to burn it down.  The city police and special police couldn't stop the rioting.  Eventually the military moved in and turned the city into a war zone.  Two days of dispute in Timișoara killing 80 - mostly students.  

The government controlled media censored the event.  Word of the riots traveled by mouth across the country side, and although only 80 people had been killed, the rumors told of thousands.  A couple cold days later Ceaușescu finally addressed the rumors by radio, stating they were "interference of foreign forces in Romania's internal affairs" and an "external aggression on Romania's sovereignty."

The banner of decent became the Romanian flag with the socialist emblem cut out of the center.  We still see the flag flying in front of the town hall in my mom's home city of Arad.  Arad is only a half hour away from Timișoara, and became another hot spot for fighting in the days of the revolution.  My cousin was in 4th grade at the time and says it was a really scary couple days where they hid in their house, hearing the police firing on the people in the streets.  

Some bullet holes remain on the beautiful edifice of the town hall building.

 Twenty-four years later fresh flowers still adorn the memorial for the protesters killed during the revolution.  The pictures of each man surrounding the obelisk.

A grave site at the city cemetery dedicated to those men killed during protests.  When we walked by, and I asked what the special grave was, my great aunt only said, "The Heroes."  

 In just four days following the riots at Timișoara, Ceaușescu and his wife were killed by firing squad.  The police eventually turned to the side of the people, and started waving the flag with the hole in the center.  Ceaușescu's cabinet staged a cue.  First they advised him to take a helicopter ride out of the capitol where the pilot tricked him into landing, bouncing the copter up and down and saying it was coming under anti-aircraft fire.  After landing, Ceaușescu and his wife hijacked a car.   The petrified driver mislead them into stopping to hide at the building where he worked.  There the driver contacted the police, who took Ceaușescu and his wife in armored vehicles to a spot where they had a quick two hour trial.  He was charged with genocide, subversion, destruction of public property, undermining the national economy, and trying to flee the country.  The judge was wearing a sweater and a pair of jeans, and even the lawyers appointed for Ceaușescu's defense argued for the death penalty without appeal.

The firing squad executed him and his flailing wife on the spot.  They say for every bullet Ceaușescu took, his wife took 10.  She was seen as the most vicious, as unsympathetic, and as personally responsible for advocating the policies that induced suffering of the people. 

Twenty four years later the country is aging.  Colorful, intricately decorated buildings crumble.  The evidence of a once - like a long time ago - booming city fades and withers.  The above buildings haven't been retouched in 80 years.

Historic, once luxurious apartments with stained glasses, wall paper and high ceilings; now the quiet community of mostly elderly owners.

We visited the old home of my mom's cousin.  She now lives in the US too and has for over 30 years.  My mom remembers them playing in this courtyard with the other neighborhood kids for hours each day.  Now dark, quiet, and falling apart.  

We saw a bunch of hopeful signs, like nice new restaurants, buildings just now starting to get renovated, and well dressed and happy young people.  The Christmas market smells of pastry and buttered corn, while kids ride around the square on scooters and tricycles.  Christmas was outlawed during communism.  

But what I unfortunately heard from people is that most want to leave, the new government is corrupt, you need connections to make any good money, and most of the country is still very poor.  And now without the controls around emigration and censorship, young people travel and easily know the amenities and first world opportunities elsewhere.  Many of them are leaving Romania.

But I found it so charming, I loved the simplicity of the towns in the countryside, the kindness and fun energy of the people, the delicious home cooked food, and so much more.  I really loved visiting Romania and told everyone.  

In high school a friend showed me a copy of the Communist Manifesto.  My mom was home and saw.  She immediately flipped out on him, "Get that book out of my house!  Out of my house!" And she chased him until he left it in his car.

At 17 my mom didn't know exactly why they were leaving Romania, and wouldn't have chosen to do so on her own.  Knowing what she knows now, she says with a steady gaze and almost a tear shimmering from her eyes, "I would kiss the ground Richard Nixon walks on."

She can give some examples of ways her life in Romania was superior to the US, especially gender equality at the time, woman held the same jobs as men all the way up the ladder.  But what bothers her most is that people weren't allowed to leave, weren't allowed to travel, visit family, or move somewhere else if they wanted.  Rules were decided by someone else, and seemed irrational, but if you broke them you could be jailed or killed.  

If you live in the US look back in your own history and I'm sure you'll find a story like this somewhere.  Anyone who lives in the country came from some kind of struggle.  If you have a lineage of immigrants, then they made a scary choice to leave what they knew behind with the hope of a better future for their children.


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