tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-43354950747878947942024-02-19T00:19:51.310-08:00The Garden of the Carpathians.An American living in Iasi, Romania.Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-26654227651341345552011-03-02T16:12:00.000-08:002011-03-02T16:12:05.965-08:00I should clarify.Romanians are always asking my honest opinion of Romania. When I tell them, they tell me I am wrong. Have I been to the mountains? The sea? The Danube? Yes, I've been to those places. I've seen the monasteries, the markets, the weddings, the pig sacrifices... I haven't seen it all. I've seen enough.<br />
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Romania is blessed by some beautiful geography. It is a beautiful country. But like the Romanians themselves say "Too bad it is inhabited."<br />
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When I'm ranting and raving about Romania, I'm not speaking of all of Romania. I am speaking of my life on the end of a dirty street amidst blocs, dogs and trash. I'm speaking about Iasi, in Moldova.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxDaJJNQqBAwRcpjt4gupGCdISuUp7kmA_CBdjpGgMOWeMsS9SX2_2cRVJtsrP7LpPytdbUk3HqwEEYfRmAyDdaRtq_rTMLrW_owKsCPfO37pw3siSdbTzLuxTqlskwkOOTfoai3WAXOL/s1600/gunoaie.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="244" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgoxDaJJNQqBAwRcpjt4gupGCdISuUp7kmA_CBdjpGgMOWeMsS9SX2_2cRVJtsrP7LpPytdbUk3HqwEEYfRmAyDdaRtq_rTMLrW_owKsCPfO37pw3siSdbTzLuxTqlskwkOOTfoai3WAXOL/s320/gunoaie.gif" width="320" /></a></div><br />
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Transylvania is beautiful, so is Brasov, Cluj, Sibiu... There are many places in Romania that I would make home.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe8dtSXesSW2pldznONCQsKO77GDdpBZg7nLgREMysSj9BM4ZTmCR0ON7YiqkUP5w9BIXYqw_IYldsJxm45QGhJiaUxUZHJw5SoNfoHZqOD2oGSFdZkSR0ObYQvXSGY-87BfmJXnj6yjw/s1600/brasov-city-kronstadt-images-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="283" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXe8dtSXesSW2pldznONCQsKO77GDdpBZg7nLgREMysSj9BM4ZTmCR0ON7YiqkUP5w9BIXYqw_IYldsJxm45QGhJiaUxUZHJw5SoNfoHZqOD2oGSFdZkSR0ObYQvXSGY-87BfmJXnj6yjw/s320/brasov-city-kronstadt-images-01.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Brasov</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiV2oByLQW1hHCBqGSewURxXCOYSJvraRfvKDzqo6Qc3iHpC3oFjPA3Vk3OAAgtlN20ke-2y9CmSQkjT_t5iKZwuL3z30YystMUTTwhhOd2yISFbcTppED28tl9OnNeLwgf3k2wFltf3rS/s1600/Cluj-Napoca.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiV2oByLQW1hHCBqGSewURxXCOYSJvraRfvKDzqo6Qc3iHpC3oFjPA3Vk3OAAgtlN20ke-2y9CmSQkjT_t5iKZwuL3z30YystMUTTwhhOd2yISFbcTppED28tl9OnNeLwgf3k2wFltf3rS/s320/Cluj-Napoca.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Cluj</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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The xenophobic, racist, homophobic and rude people of Iasi have not endeared themselves to me, nor has the city itself. Sure, there are exceptions. I have made friends in Iasi, but very few.Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-86225964010912416552011-03-02T15:56:00.000-08:002011-03-02T15:56:46.887-08:00The Grass ConversationI planted a nice lawn outside of my bar. I'm normally not obsessive about things, but there's something quintessentially American about a perfect green lawn that I take great pride in maintaining it.<br />
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My wife was talking with a customer who was upset by my "wasteful spending"but who appreciated the practicality of my lawn. My wife, puzzled, asked why he would think it was so expensive? The customer replied that only a lazy, rich, American would install artificial grass to keep from maintaining it.<br />
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I was later accused of the same thing by another customer. "Americans are always wasting money", I was told. The guy wanted to know how much I spent on the lawn. I told him I spent about 40 ron on grass seeds. "No, you can not trick me! I know you imported this lawn from Ireland!" He said he had spent some time in Ireland and had seen this grass there. I told him it was a possibility, but that this grass was common throughout the world.<br />
"Look" I said, "In the neighbor's yard is growing the same kind of grass!"<br />
"No, no, no... That is Romanian grass! See how tall it is! Your grass grows short and is all exactly the same height! Tell me! How much did you pay!?"<br />
"You are right" I said "It cost me 2,000 ron...for a LAWNMOWER!"Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-91619522671071573602011-01-20T11:16:00.000-08:002011-03-02T15:58:56.095-08:00And your Indian name is George Custer Runningbear.I<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">n prehistory, this beautiful land was inhabited by peoples known as the Thracians. The Thracians who lived in the area which is more or less modern Romanian were the Dacians, or who the Greeks called the Getae.</span><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAO3tDzPS5ro2RNo8yjxszekelSfejnbep70967hwVrTOqaT6VK-eKzmG8jtakzIcSSjbcUhP9etq683GN3Y0yy_GTv-kcrzIC4AT8p6kQH49IhiwjA1MtgaWQN-r1rAz6jGv2RIkvu-7q/s1600/Portrait_of_a_Dacian_%2528Hermitage%2529_-_%25D0%2593%25D0%25BE%25D0%25BB%25D0%25BE%25D0%25B2%25D0%25B0_%25D0%25B4%25D0%25B0%25D0%25BA%25D0%25B0.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAO3tDzPS5ro2RNo8yjxszekelSfejnbep70967hwVrTOqaT6VK-eKzmG8jtakzIcSSjbcUhP9etq683GN3Y0yy_GTv-kcrzIC4AT8p6kQH49IhiwjA1MtgaWQN-r1rAz6jGv2RIkvu-7q/s320/Portrait_of_a_Dacian_%2528Hermitage%2529_-_%25D0%2593%25D0%25BE%25D0%25BB%25D0%25BE%25D0%25B2%25D0%25B0_%25D0%25B4%25D0%25B0%25D0%25BA%25D0%25B0.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Ancient Dacian with Funny Hat.</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">They developed a society composed of agriculture, ceramics, metal-working, etc. Like many of the peoples in this region, they were more or less peaceful, having minor skirmishes with other tribes and also the occasional Celt, Sarmatian and Germanic tribes. Then one day, drunk on tuica, they decided to attack Rome. This made the Romans angry. </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Emperor Trajan of Rome sent many armies against the Dacians and by 105 AD, the Roman armies had defeated their enemies and razed their capital of Sarmizegethusa. Trajan didn't much care for the Dacians </span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">When the Dacian lands became part of the Roman Empire it was colonized by Roman citizens that were refered to as "ex toto orbe romano" or, citizens from the regions controlled by Rome, such as the Arabic peninsula and even Northern Africa. </span></div></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRAS7z_YA_QuDzQCxxQpfEI2BEFcKhAy4YukbEhc2og2s6LTl-q6dX0wF2bTQyttVP7Oqlv_5h_7yT3by6ByK9qXwHJ3rw83-sU8iFrJP_-hKOqh4kvM69jAcvx5caFys5rtGyJGt32Zm/s1600/OLINKA1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizRAS7z_YA_QuDzQCxxQpfEI2BEFcKhAy4YukbEhc2og2s6LTl-q6dX0wF2bTQyttVP7Oqlv_5h_7yT3by6ByK9qXwHJ3rw83-sU8iFrJP_-hKOqh4kvM69jAcvx5caFys5rtGyJGt32Zm/s320/OLINKA1.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Citizen of Rome that helped colonize the Dacian kingdom.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So what do you do when your country is invaded by foreigners that execute a genocidal policy against your people and give your lands and women to other foreigners?</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">You call yourself a Roman.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">That's correct. In Romania, names like Tiberius, Cesar, and even the man himself, Trajan are common. Even the name for this country "Romania" was chosen because they want to celebrate the centuries of rape and pillage carried out by the Roman Empire and to show their ties to the Italian peninsula, where even today they are despised and spit on by modern Italians.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Not that I have a problem with any of this...except that Romanians are very upset that the gypsies or "tsigani" refer to themselves as the Roma people. According to Romanians, this unfairly implies that the Roma are somehow connected historically to the Romanians who perceive themselves as being somehow connected to the Roman empire.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-32062010833582355172011-01-11T11:06:00.000-08:002011-01-11T11:06:35.856-08:00Schindler's List. One of the greatest movies ever made.<object height="385" style="clear: right; float: right;" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/bDlKrZmECK0?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/bDlKrZmECK0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object><br />
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When I first moved to Romania, I had been here a couple of months and had made a couple of friends here. There was one young businessman I used to get along with quite well. He spoke very good English, was funny, bright, etc. Refreshing compared the old communists and peasants in their funny hats.<br />
I was speaking to him and his friend one day and they were talking about how their businesses were going slow and that the weather was depressing and that the best solution was to go home and watch "Schindler's List" again. "Why in the world would you want to watch such a depressing movie if you are already depressed?" I asked. "I love that movie" my friend said "it really cheers me up. The way it shows the killing of the Jews is depicted is so real, it's perfect." His friend chimed in "Yes! I love it. In the morning when I wake up, I have my coffee and wish I could be that German officer at the concentration camp! You know, the one with the sniper rifle who kills a random Jew every day! That's great! I wish I could start my day like that!" Yes, "Schindler's List" is a great movie because of the accurate depiction of the brutality of the Holocaust. I thought it had something to do with one man, doing whatever he could to save his fellow human beings.<br />
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So that brings me to another story. The one about the "Skeleton under the bed."<br />
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This is when I have to tell you for legal reasons, having to do with a document I was politely asked to sign by the local police, denying any of this to be true, that indeed, this story is for entertainment purposes only.<br />
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I was at a party once with some newly graduated doctors and some med students. They were having a good time and one of them mentioned her "skeleton under the bed" and what would she do with it now that she had graduated. They all chuckled at this inside joke and one woman said she simply had thrown hers in the trash after she had graduated. Another young doctor laughed and said he still has his in a box in his hallway.<br />
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Naturally perplexed I asked if they were joking. They told me no, that the old professors at the medical university required students to purchase a skeleton as a study aid and that every good doctor should have one, "just like in the old movies."<br />
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Vaguely having an idea of the price of skeleton models and knowing that Romanian college kids aren't exactly loaded, I asked how did they come up with the money to buy them? I was told that they weren't very expensive at all, only about $40 US. "Really? Are they subsidized by the state or something?" "No" I was told. "Human skeletons can be purchased easily in Iasi. They are from the Jews."<br />
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At that time, a medical student could simply go to a small village outside of Iasi, where the bodies of those from the "Iasi Death Train" ended its trip and ask the local caretaker of the Jewish cemetery for a a skeleton and he would dig it up, "clean it up" and sell it for a small fee.<br />
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Now, if any of this story had been true, I would have immediately alerted every agency even remotely interested in a story like this...but since after being interrogated by the police and signing a document saying that this never happened, I didn't do that.<br />
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<a href="http://www.jpost.com/JewishWorld/JewishNews/Article.aspx?id=147330">http://www.jpost.com/JewishWorld/JewishNews/Article.aspx?id=147330</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.haaretz.com/jewish-world/news/romania-students-suspected-of-buying-bones-from-holocaust-era-mass-grave-1.279126">http://www.haaretz.com/jewish-world/news/romania-students-suspected-of-buying-bones-from-holocaust-era-mass-grave-1.279126</a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-5228664532543210102011-01-10T04:47:00.000-08:002011-01-10T04:53:51.637-08:00It could have been worse:<a href="http://articles.cnn.com/2010-08-27/world/romanian.hospital.fire_1_intensive-care-unit-chief-prosecutor-romanian-health-care-system?_s=PM:WORLD">http://articles.cnn.com/2010-08-27/world/romanian.hospital.fire_1_intensive-care-unit-chief-prosecutor-romanian-health-care-system?_s=PM:WORLD</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/09/world/europe/09bribery.html">http://www.nytimes.com/2009/03/09/world/europe/09bribery.html</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.kevinmd.com/blog/2009/06/the-worst-medical-malpractice-cases-you-can-possibly-imagine.html">http://www.kevinmd.com/blog/2009/06/the-worst-medical-malpractice-cases-you-can-possibly-imagine.html</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1540135/Stressed-doctor-cuts-off-patients-penis.html">http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/1540135/Stressed-doctor-cuts-off-patients-penis.html</a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-48878792547242347132011-01-10T04:37:00.000-08:002011-01-10T04:37:12.166-08:00That time I fucked up my knee.I was standing on the sidewalk, smoking a cigarette and I noticed a car stalled out in the intersection. The dad was behind the wheel and a scrawny kid of about ten years old was trying to push-start it. Of course, Romanians, ever helpful were laughing and pointing at the spectacle. So, I went over and helped the kid push the car. I blew out my knee.<br />
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This was back when my health coverage had lapsed, so I was basically screwed. Fortunately, my father-in-law had a friend who worked at the local ER and gave him some cash to take a look at my knee.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvg_6JzCwGky_8qnjkqwjmLJ85wVBG-UVxtJjRhzWdZuFgU6jSwqMmpqj5KhQvoutIBktEK2ZILypBZ5MwpCRTuBMMhnUalgD2MqvanhNvCbDAu222SQEbONHLvj2QEAHnNmga8I9i5Qaa/s1600/3911830116_f5cdc3dbf4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="214" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvg_6JzCwGky_8qnjkqwjmLJ85wVBG-UVxtJjRhzWdZuFgU6jSwqMmpqj5KhQvoutIBktEK2ZILypBZ5MwpCRTuBMMhnUalgD2MqvanhNvCbDAu222SQEbONHLvj2QEAHnNmga8I9i5Qaa/s320/3911830116_f5cdc3dbf4.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Yep, just this cheerful.</div><br />
Upon arriving at the ER, the first thing that caught my attention was the crowd of patients outside, still in their gowns, smoking and chatting. I thought that was a little odd, but even odder were the nurses feeding stray dogs at the reception desk.<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYf3h-vI2THkvdPz0eLnRoiDmRFWhQfufhcKcmxDTQqrtJoQG0p3gqV7BD6wu71ySVzl9TdnwnsrSCM_UYUEEj23Sn4lTrctfwg_iodWBW1Y-bp6eyvclgMusJ0BvLH0qKaFajPea0nXk/s1600/4162779035_b829b049ab.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtYf3h-vI2THkvdPz0eLnRoiDmRFWhQfufhcKcmxDTQqrtJoQG0p3gqV7BD6wu71ySVzl9TdnwnsrSCM_UYUEEj23Sn4lTrctfwg_iodWBW1Y-bp6eyvclgMusJ0BvLH0qKaFajPea0nXk/s320/4162779035_b829b049ab.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Patient smoking outside of hospital.</div><br />
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The visit went something like this:<br />
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First I was put in a bed and given an I.V. of something. No examination, no questions, tests or x-rays.<br />
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Doc: "You have a pain in your knee?"<br />
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Me: "Yes, I was pushing a car and immediately felt a sharp pain that will not subside and makes it difficult to walk."<br />
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Doc: "Do you smoke?"<br />
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Me: "Yes, I do."<br />
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Doc: "Aha! You see what is happening? Every time you smoke a cigarette, the smoke is attracted to the weakest point of your body. In this case, your knee. The cigarette smoke is destroying your knee, only by quitting will the pain subside."<br />
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Me: "Thank you, Doctor, that is very enlightening."<br />
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Then the doctor pulls my wife aside and says to her in Romanian "Your husband is an American? He has probably eaten McDonald's in his life. This is why his knee hurts. Because of the fast-food in America."<br />
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This may sound a little weird to someone who doesn't appreciate the Romanian healthcare system, but I'm a big fan. The reason the healthcare system sucks is because the government sucks. The reason the government sucks is because the people suck. In a democratic society, the people get exactly the government they deserve,<br />
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I was having a conversation with a young lady who was just graduating med school here in Iasi. She was telling me that she wasn't feeling well because of some severe menstrual cramps. I suggest to her that she trying lying down in different positions to give her muscles that were under stress a break. She told me with confidence that muscles were not the cause of menstrual cramps. The problem was "the blood vessels grow into your uterus like the roots of a tree. The pain is caused when these blood vessels break."<br />
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I was also enlightened about another aspect of Romanian reproduction recently. My wife finally decided to get a vision exam to see if she needed glasses. When the optometrist told her that yes, she did need glasses. My wife was a little upset. Why? Because it meant she could never have a natural birth.<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmJyoF2kAV1WnoHmzsoH1oaoLe5iNSdsA4ErrfHUt_XGHqRm9c82fuK7uMe8WbN4HGdjr2DdcNPWv-F-ctNC9q73_W5IGhwaSlWgNBQ8anK_Q5F3b13MOMYQV6a41rCPnNIwEhY2C3C1q/s1600/11083961_gal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgAmJyoF2kAV1WnoHmzsoH1oaoLe5iNSdsA4ErrfHUt_XGHqRm9c82fuK7uMe8WbN4HGdjr2DdcNPWv-F-ctNC9q73_W5IGhwaSlWgNBQ8anK_Q5F3b13MOMYQV6a41rCPnNIwEhY2C3C1q/s320/11083961_gal.jpg" width="299" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">No baby for you!</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Seems in Romania, a doctor will not allow a woman who wears corrective lenses to have a natural birth. Why? Because there's too great a risk to the mother that while pushing out the baby, her eyes may pop out of her head. I'm not making this up.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-58912608742892384302011-01-03T10:06:00.000-08:002011-01-11T07:21:59.914-08:00More of "I can't make this shit up!"<a href="http://www.usatoday.com/news/religion/2005-06-18-romanian-priest_x.htm">Romanian priest orders crucifixion of nun.</a><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLNIgTx_2tRliZCEQySUcs1_M_2KkOBAHZ9cca4Ex_IICev77nsDEfip451d4-y3GzasN_B_xL-jjUU6VSYmU-65m_gStCGW-RHHal8RLIAvNL_tkC1Ld-ENv0mN6JNLYbQ3hyphenhyphensMPUaSj/s1600/cff054bea521b5ac97880c30d811-grande.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="239" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyLNIgTx_2tRliZCEQySUcs1_M_2KkOBAHZ9cca4Ex_IICev77nsDEfip451d4-y3GzasN_B_xL-jjUU6VSYmU-65m_gStCGW-RHHal8RLIAvNL_tkC1Ld-ENv0mN6JNLYbQ3hyphenhyphensMPUaSj/s320/cff054bea521b5ac97880c30d811-grande.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-71454463049270518932011-01-03T10:04:00.001-08:002011-01-03T10:04:26.578-08:00This is even better because it has Jews AND Gypsies!<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/1bQmT1EM0Eg?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/1bQmT1EM0Eg?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-30113896857886896542011-01-03T10:02:00.000-08:002011-01-03T10:02:17.532-08:00More Romanian-Jewish stuff, because Romanians hate Jews so much.<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/28gvugqGJsw?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/28gvugqGJsw?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-57204564510291532832011-01-03T09:58:00.000-08:002011-01-03T09:58:02.816-08:00Romanians as themselves. (I can't make this up.)<a href="http://cocalari.com/">http://cocalari.com/</a><br />
<br />
<a href="http://fiasco.ro/">http://fiasco.ro</a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-23930588309724726742011-01-02T04:00:00.000-08:002011-01-02T04:00:21.354-08:00And there's always this:An old man was beaten to death for crossing the road too slowly.<br />
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<a href="http://www.romaniantimes.at/news/General_News/2010-04-05/7714/Pensioner_killed_for_crossing_road_too_slowly">http://www.romaniantimes.at/news/General_News/2010-04-05/7714/Pensioner_killed_for_crossing_road_too_slowly</a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-17601048469193204392011-01-02T03:24:00.000-08:002011-01-02T03:24:26.137-08:00Got milk?<div style="text-align: justify;">Well, you're really fucked now. You're out of milk and have to go to the store to get some. It's only two blocks away, but it means you have to go out THERE. Into Beautiful Romania.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">First, grab your money, and make sure you have a handful of change. Second, put on your hiking boots. Get your pepper-spray and your gun. Put one in the chamber and leave the safety off. Bring your passport and ID card. Now you're ready to go get milk.</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">You need your hiking boots for the sidewalks, or should I say, what's left of the sidewalks. In Romania, people park and even drive on the sidewalks. Of course this destroys the sidewalks, leaving areas of broken concrete and mud. Why do they park on the sidewalks? Any city dweller knows that parking is always a problem. One of the things a normal person asks himself when buying a car is "Where will I park it?" In Romanian the answer is simple. Park anywhere you damn well please. After all, fuck your neighbors, fuck the pedestrians, fuck everyone. "I have a car. I am a big man now. I will park where I please and you can walk in the fucking street."</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iJNMBTW3dwidGQ1rsxDnVVHz53NVELyI-RIQvdfrSJjQo7mGpWe_M5cvTy3zayPGreT9qnnHgH-d47wbWzBhNk-AN-mbGkEMJmp2e1r7EzPjIcJB3IdPy3s_Q3jgtfO65olhz_oko54s/s1600/bumper-on-sidewalk.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="397" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3iJNMBTW3dwidGQ1rsxDnVVHz53NVELyI-RIQvdfrSJjQo7mGpWe_M5cvTy3zayPGreT9qnnHgH-d47wbWzBhNk-AN-mbGkEMJmp2e1r7EzPjIcJB3IdPy3s_Q3jgtfO65olhz_oko54s/s400/bumper-on-sidewalk.jpg" width="400" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;">This is why you wore your boots.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: justify;">So you're on your way to the store now, ankle deep in mud. The place is littered with garbage as usual and you notice a more than usual amount of dogshit. That's because in Romania, there are stray dogs all over the place. The government makes a half-assed attempt to control the population of stray and feral dogs, but they can't compete against the Romanian's effort to keep them alive. I know a guy whose pregnant wife was attacked by a stray dog on her way home from a shop. The dog only bit her a couple of times, but being nine months pregnant, the attack shook her up pretty bad. I asked the guy what did he do about it and he didn't get the question. I asked "What did you do to the dog?" and he said "Nothing, it's a dog, it's harmless." Way to go, buddy. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYP-p1YA9q2JErgjHki6qLvIQ0pcw1yYiNgQ1c6RaYG4JKw2SjZomLAKUi-seSV43OCrV0X1uhzDJWK3rkPPl8BR-KXQoL0xi6VlJZtAe_RiKZb8xgFIOZ21xQfUyxjfx_Jl70I4W_Zp0/s1600/2534120003_5f81eaea9a.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="238" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNYP-p1YA9q2JErgjHki6qLvIQ0pcw1yYiNgQ1c6RaYG4JKw2SjZomLAKUi-seSV43OCrV0X1uhzDJWK3rkPPl8BR-KXQoL0xi6VlJZtAe_RiKZb8xgFIOZ21xQfUyxjfx_Jl70I4W_Zp0/s320/2534120003_5f81eaea9a.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Anyway, that's what the pepper-spray is for...</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So when you get to the shop, you find your milk. You take it to the counter and pay for it. The woman working the counter will not smile. She will not greet you. She will roll her eyes and huff at your appearance. She will become even more perturbed when she realizes you are a foreigner. She will appear downright bitchy if you tell her you don't have the correct change. If you don't have change, instead of giving you change (even though her till is full of coins) she will give you some gum or something to make up the difference. She will NOT, under any circumstances place the money in your hand. It's a cultural thing. </div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUF7a9kTJ2pEWOHloyoJ0Nsu6oDBbHhfXSkqZxigKAOHxk1WPvWOY3ye_-8uKz1vDHiId0Pe4GZe7hOp0QgeXeJ2vxDjeLyqOuAz54dQJoj4EoOeGRlFrC8Sh6a-PHWcmRLy5U9HWsur6/s1600/511042_11848_e476624306_p.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiaUF7a9kTJ2pEWOHloyoJ0Nsu6oDBbHhfXSkqZxigKAOHxk1WPvWOY3ye_-8uKz1vDHiId0Pe4GZe7hOp0QgeXeJ2vxDjeLyqOuAz54dQJoj4EoOeGRlFrC8Sh6a-PHWcmRLy5U9HWsur6/s320/511042_11848_e476624306_p.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Thank you for shopping with us! Have a nice day!"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Now you're ordeal is almost over with. You have your milk and are on the way home. Except, standing on the corner are a group of young, Romanian males. In Romania, instead of basketball or street hockey, one of the main pastimes of young Romanians is to stand on the street and insult the people who pass by. They will insult you for being old, young, short, tall, poor, rich..whatever. They seem to get a lot of amusement out of this. Don't object, because they will kick your ass. In Romania, assault is a petty crime with no real consequence. I have a friend who was going into his building and saw a bunch of guys standing in the foyer, throwing trash and cigarette butts on the ground. He told them they should have more respect for their building. As he turned to walk up the stairs, one of them hit him in the back of the head with a brick and when he went down, the other guys started kicking him. He was hospitalized and filed a police report. The police told him he was stupid for confronting them and that they were "just boys being boys." Firearms are "illegal" in Romania (unless you are the police, a government official, or very rich.) They are also pretty rare. Romanians are afraid of guns. In the U.S., I would never brandish a weapon to scare someone, but I've had to do it twice here.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2CnEpZX4SSdSbiJUUfOYiwMpMKndyk_GtFga3Mije92ayBlT47Kw05jvLDIyNKUBQOf8KZrQaM0xEXCbi_M1SklBHgNjFsm403o9kRrPf6rMztOFThD90m1hYIyHqevGfF0cGRwrcRPb/s1600/cocalar3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiR2CnEpZX4SSdSbiJUUfOYiwMpMKndyk_GtFga3Mije92ayBlT47Kw05jvLDIyNKUBQOf8KZrQaM0xEXCbi_M1SklBHgNjFsm403o9kRrPf6rMztOFThD90m1hYIyHqevGfF0cGRwrcRPb/s320/cocalar3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">"Where you going with that milk?"</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So, you finally made it home, unscathed, mission accomplished. Wait, you forgot to get cigarettes...fuck.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
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</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-28041145257072585152011-01-01T09:23:00.000-08:002011-01-01T09:23:03.889-08:00Feeling it:<object width="480" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/4gWqRkPvfg0?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/4gWqRkPvfg0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-17897885431120993372010-12-30T12:34:00.000-08:002010-12-30T12:34:50.992-08:00Dining in Iasi.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Don't do it. No...really. Just give it up. The problem with eating out in Iasi consists of two problems. The first one is the food that is available, the second is the people who are cooking it.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">First I should give you a brief rundown on traditional Romanian dishes. The list consists of the following:</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">1. That cheese that made me puked.</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">2. Ummm..and..ummm...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Okay, here's the problem, there are no Romanian traditional foods. They have dishes that they consider to be Romanian such as mamaliga (polenta, native american in origin, eaten by most of the world), sarmale (Turkish in origin, eaten in the most of the Mid-East, Turkey, Greece, Poland, Russia, etc,) Ciorba de Burta (the Turkish "<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;">İşkembe çorbası", known as tripe soup to the rest of the world.) I could go on and on, but when it comes to Romanian cuisine, most people just throw some shit in a pot and boil it... Here's the twist though, in the Romanian tradition of kissing the ass of the invaders, they leave out spices. Why? Because what happens if you throw some garlic and onions into your polenta and the Ottoman who is working up a hunger while raping your wife and daughter doesn't like garlic and onions? Aha! Clever Romanians decided to leave out spices so as not to offend their guests. Very clever.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 19px;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">So what the folks here have done is taken traditional foods found throughout most of the world and left out the spices. So if you see a plate of Sarmale and recognize it as your Polish grandmother's "</span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 25px;">Golabki ", don't be fooled, this is some bland imitation meant to lull your tastebuds into a coma. Due mostly to this tradition of just saying "Fuck the spices", most Romanians have never learned the proper usage of spices<span class="Apple-style-span">. So what do they do?</span></span><br />
<div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">Open a restaurant. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div><div>A perfect example is the pizza restaurant. Romanians are crazy about pizza, there must be a hundred places in Iasi alone. Order a pizza but don't be surprised when it arrives without sauce. Why? Because what if you don't like the sauce or maybe it's too sweet? Too spicy? So they give you the option of ordering a cup of sauce on the side. It's ketchup. No, really. They also offer the "spicy" variety that is just spicy ketchup. The shit is horrible. Eat the pizza without the sauce.</div><div><br />
</div><div>Never, NEVER, eat in a restaurant that serves "foreign" food (Mexican, Indian, Chinese, etc.) A restaurant owner will decide to open, say, a Chinese restaurant. Is he a Chinese chef? Has he ever eaten Chinese food? Can he find the ingredients? The spices? No, but that won't stop him from opening a Chinese restaurant. Btw, that's not a water chestnut in your stirfry, it's a potato. The owner didn't know what a water chestnut was, but saw a photo and thought since it looked like a potato, it must be a potato. I'm not joking.</div><div><br />
</div><div>There are a couple of decent places to eat in Iasi. All foreign-owned. Don't ever let anyone trick you into eating at a place that serves "Romanian" food. Never eat at a "foreign" restaurant owned by Romanians. </div><div><br />
</div><div>Btw, Yes, that is coleslaw on your hamburger.</div><div><br />
</div><div><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><br />
</span></div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-31982749518411106442010-12-27T04:54:00.001-08:002010-12-27T04:54:05.736-08:00<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJLziYNjOn7cZXMCUnPL2RqHp1CFE7hy8O99ucto5apSR3X54rbh3iUO-VVnj7KYOhcOZULbkDAAKL4ZbrntA5xEGAi7X0G9WVZwAZpVZGmhL-jKiP8vGHgaK_ZipedWv8_2g1GWpifRK/s1600/pig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhJLziYNjOn7cZXMCUnPL2RqHp1CFE7hy8O99ucto5apSR3X54rbh3iUO-VVnj7KYOhcOZULbkDAAKL4ZbrntA5xEGAi7X0G9WVZwAZpVZGmhL-jKiP8vGHgaK_ZipedWv8_2g1GWpifRK/s320/pig.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-56449600780946072082010-12-27T04:48:00.000-08:002010-12-27T04:54:47.097-08:00Okay, I puked.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">So my wife brings me a plate of food prepared by her mother for Christmas dinner. It consisted of the usual Romanian fare. A huge lump of cold and bland mamaliga (polenta), a piece of grilled pork, cooked to perfection (burnt on the outside, bleeding in the middle), an unidentifiable sausage tasting of cardboard smoked on pressure treated lumber. There was also pickled watermelon, because, why eat a pickle that tastes like a pickle, when you can eat a watermelon that tastes like a pickle? And then, there was something else. A new type of cheese I had never tried. This cheese was not prepared by my mother-in-law, but was purchased from the local farmer's market and sold by this woman:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUGACk4TL1AQXQAMXyiPWAyUpvFFNQPHzn3g30otBOw-YT6ISkq4aO4en4f9rnqb7_qUFtTlc4Xa6wgc-mQH8OYpVLV3f7dp2xi2OtT4BZAsnUwxewDPoF1XAhCs7UQuY-E1SNEY3Yc4Xo/s1600/Alexandru3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUGACk4TL1AQXQAMXyiPWAyUpvFFNQPHzn3g30otBOw-YT6ISkq4aO4en4f9rnqb7_qUFtTlc4Xa6wgc-mQH8OYpVLV3f7dp2xi2OtT4BZAsnUwxewDPoF1XAhCs7UQuY-E1SNEY3Yc4Xo/s320/Alexandru3.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Please note that the woman is cleverly wearing a fake mustache to conceal her true identity.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">Now, this is just where she sells the cheese, it is produced in her very modern production facility, featured here:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNDYRtJ8vYqMVOCjXeIO2ieVaX3jCJawaf0rbyjUs39sg7p9bPbK-1u7GmIs2Mb-aFXkWk6b2MQEh43DwEjm8T4XGCJPoAVNhDXAuBTHuXXLJe3pS_GhdZtutd-yHVDw3Y4PvivFTWyCc/s1600/366584498_91cd28554f.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEglNDYRtJ8vYqMVOCjXeIO2ieVaX3jCJawaf0rbyjUs39sg7p9bPbK-1u7GmIs2Mb-aFXkWk6b2MQEh43DwEjm8T4XGCJPoAVNhDXAuBTHuXXLJe3pS_GhdZtutd-yHVDw3Y4PvivFTWyCc/s320/366584498_91cd28554f.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">Okay, so I love cheeses of all sorts, so I was happy to try something new.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">I puked:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;">It seems this type of cheese is a delicacy. How it differs from most Romanian cheese is that this is simply fresh milk poured into a cow's stomach and left to do it's thing until it become something that looks like a semi-soft cheese. I'm told that in time, the flavor gets even stronger. I thought cheese was safe. For christ's sake, even the faggy French cheeses are at least edible, but this is the most horrible stuff I have ever eaten in my life. Stay away from strange cheeses, especially sold by old women wearing false mustaches.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-84684910739162529572010-12-22T13:12:00.000-08:002010-12-22T13:12:12.926-08:00Romanian Music.Not everything about Romania is bad. One of things that I enjoy about Romania is its musical heritage, it portrays a bit of the history of all of the Hungarians, Jews and Romani who have called this land home. For example, this great Klezmer piece, praising the land of Romania in Yiddish.<br />
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Or this great piece from the film "Latcho Drom." The film portrays musically, the migration of the Romani people from India to Europe and in the spot is featured the "Taraf de Haidouks" from Clejani, Romania.<br />
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Also, I discovered another song recently that I should mention. "Ridica-voi ochii" as sung by Paula Seling. Really a wonderful piece of music. I think when you listen to it, without even having any knowledge or Romanian, you will realize it is a religious piece. Great song, wonderful voice.<br />
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<object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/vu0aC-Z8T2Q?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/vu0aC-Z8T2Q?fs=1&hl=en_US&rel=0" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-69334807951016887992010-12-22T07:52:00.000-08:002010-12-22T13:28:56.871-08:00It's not just me.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div>When Anthony Bourdain took the show "No Reservations" to Romania, the experience was nightmarish. Those who are familiar with Anthony Bourdain know that he has traveled most of the world, bunked down in all types of accommodations from palaces to grass huts, eaten the best and worst food on the planet and critiques every locale as he sees its. So knowing that the man has eaten monkey brains in mosquito infested swamps and still manages to find some positive aspects of the adventure, it was surprising to many that when he came to Romania, he was absolutely miserable. He got such an overwhelming negative response from Romanians that he blogged an explanation but no apologies. Watch the "No Reservations, Romanian"<span id="goog_183876616"></span><span id="goog_183876617"></span><a href="http://www.blogger.com/"></a> episode if you ever get the chance.<br />
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<embed allowfullscreen="true" allowscriptaccess="always" height="366" src="http://www.220.ro/emb/jTTyAnIFNB" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="450"></embed><br />
<small>Vezi mai multe din <a href="http://www.220.ro/auto/" target="_blank">Auto, moto</a> pe <a href="http://www.220.ro/" target="_blank">220.ro</a></small><br />
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<a href="http://blog.travelchannel.com/anthony-bourdain/read/romania-what-the-hell-happened/">http://blog.travelchannel.com/anthony-bourdain/read/romania-what-the-hell-happened/</a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-89643485427768651092010-12-20T03:41:00.000-08:002010-12-22T13:12:48.151-08:00Gypsies, Magyars and Romanians, Oh my!The young lady who works for me told me that I was being unfair because the photo on the blog header is not of Romanians, but of Romani or gypsies who are nothing like Romanians. So to clear this up, I thought I would post some photos so you can see the difference between Roma, Hungarians and Romanians which is a big topic over here.<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">First, the photo of a Hungarian:</div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSoA9i9JikslUNOoa8th5yNZteTpH_qBTqMBzysPxh75GIkh7hJX7VCC9HI4K1E6UEWcTwLnJPosxKGcU2GQEH5FsO3KYHgKpufWw-durlbxrswwSJDoehlbIe7TUulpARelapAGfUg2I/s1600/HQWEF00Z.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUSoA9i9JikslUNOoa8th5yNZteTpH_qBTqMBzysPxh75GIkh7hJX7VCC9HI4K1E6UEWcTwLnJPosxKGcU2GQEH5FsO3KYHgKpufWw-durlbxrswwSJDoehlbIe7TUulpARelapAGfUg2I/s320/HQWEF00Z.jpg" width="240" /></a></div><div><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;">Now, a Gypsy:</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrxgecW9_eIm9ffLNY5Dy89CoY5Nx4g26HYO1ziyGozqNmH5GmvGRle1nN5Z4J94PpmOnZ0KRbIHqhcq64DzXjGHM9_vyaj1KqNlt4qgiXziV45wY0qHTOXCrlWIwEHTK88Sl53GtEaV_/s1600/71157230.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="233" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWrxgecW9_eIm9ffLNY5Dy89CoY5Nx4g26HYO1ziyGozqNmH5GmvGRle1nN5Z4J94PpmOnZ0KRbIHqhcq64DzXjGHM9_vyaj1KqNlt4qgiXziV45wY0qHTOXCrlWIwEHTK88Sl53GtEaV_/s320/71157230.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">And now a Romanian:</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniTMqdqkCU2wy8SkKa3D1B5sEGPXxCC2Pce9Zc2iwWXPq0wwLUNCP2efytwZowagTOvKwd78NoxmYA_prjRWyYu_8daFXYIMgVjU16IbWthc0X_bdCwiv1vFmi_-upCkt_SaS59C3Qacy/s1600/departure.1216130040.romanian-man-who-entertained-us.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhniTMqdqkCU2wy8SkKa3D1B5sEGPXxCC2Pce9Zc2iwWXPq0wwLUNCP2efytwZowagTOvKwd78NoxmYA_prjRWyYu_8daFXYIMgVjU16IbWthc0X_bdCwiv1vFmi_-upCkt_SaS59C3Qacy/s320/departure.1216130040.romanian-man-who-entertained-us.jpg" width="239" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">As you can see, the difference is obvious, Romanians wear the stupidest hats.</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-77772693988033744152010-12-20T03:26:00.000-08:002010-12-20T03:26:20.806-08:00Scenic Romania.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcmDPTN-unmMIcY9ZJS75FfJLMKUPtF82zYimSo3HidEmIKWRQBCKR5y166UiiBIvRx9wLaePW7Vr2N-2ubrioySRfmIATn4plHIvwmGx65xpm43noTdNAJAI_Eun6xw67mnlhbHNhh4T/s1600/traseiste-centura-24vt.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="227" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqcmDPTN-unmMIcY9ZJS75FfJLMKUPtF82zYimSo3HidEmIKWRQBCKR5y166UiiBIvRx9wLaePW7Vr2N-2ubrioySRfmIATn4plHIvwmGx65xpm43noTdNAJAI_Eun6xw67mnlhbHNhh4T/s320/traseiste-centura-24vt.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">One of the many scenic vistas located along Romanian roadways.</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-38590571632117166452010-12-20T02:40:00.000-08:002010-12-20T02:40:32.757-08:00Craciun Fericit.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUojPifTW6ZjJtc9FpuW03vrLgk2xEObl0klCNthG54Os2Cf6rK05vJqBseJtMiz_N1nZcjhfFGMxISsgi7Ent3CWu1wL0Y0R8g1zSZwhbf4_1wfgW3Cwse_vCcZx7kGrz0LgcZsEP5p/s1600/5949.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipKUojPifTW6ZjJtc9FpuW03vrLgk2xEObl0klCNthG54Os2Cf6rK05vJqBseJtMiz_N1nZcjhfFGMxISsgi7Ent3CWu1wL0Y0R8g1zSZwhbf4_1wfgW3Cwse_vCcZx7kGrz0LgcZsEP5p/s320/5949.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">It's Christmas time in Romania once again which means it's time for the annual Christmas PET festival.</span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;">The PET festival started many decades ago after the introduction of plastic, 2 liter bottles into Romania. During communism, if you wanted to purchase milk, juice or a soda, you would bring an empty pig bladder to the store and have them fill it with the beverage of your choice. The pig bladder was the Romanian version of a shopping bag, people would also use it to carry dry goods and meats home from the market. Sometimes, people would forget their groceries were left hanging in the pig bladders for several months and this led to the invention of many Romanian delicacies such as <span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">caş or toba. After the introduction of the PET bottle, clever Romanians realized that they could reuse these bottles for varying purposes, such as storing wine or palinka. However, the greatest use of the PET bottle is to ward off the evil spirits that wander through the forests and mountains of Romania. That's why if you travel through Romania, you will see the entire country covered in PET bottles.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">The celebration of the PET festival, though fairly recent, has its origins in the far-distant past of the Romanian Orthodox religion. In 5 AD, near Christmas time, the country of Romania was threatened by an invasion of a Turkish army and a clever Orthodox priest advised the current Romanian king, Radu cel Prost that since the Turks </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">perceived</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> pigs as being unclean, it would be wise to have the Romanian soldiers cut off the heads of pigs and wear them as helmets to frighten off the angry Turks. While the Turks did not eat pork and did indeed consider them to be filthy animals, they had no problem killing pigs, or in this case, Romanians wearing a rotting pig head as a hat.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">The ensuing battle was one of the bloodiest in Romanian history, some Turks actually were </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">purported</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> to have drowned in a river of Romanian and pig blood. After the defeat of the Romanian army by the Turks, the </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">Ottoman</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> king ordered that all pigs in Romania be slaughtered and that all Romanians would from that day forward be ordered to wear silly hats as a mark of shame.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">For nearly 2,000 years now, Romanians have continued the Christmas tradition of putting on silly hats, going into the villages and slaughtering pigs. The PET festival ends when all of the bottles wine, palinka and tuica have been drained and the pigs are butchered. The empty bottles are then tossed into the neighboring forests and rivers to ward off the spirits of those long-dead Romanian warriors who died at the hands of the Ottomans.</span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">The technique of slaughtering the pig has to be carried out in a very specific way that reflects the long Romanian history of randomly chopping up animals with an </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">ax</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">. First, a large fire is made on which to burn the pig. The pig is not actually "cooked" during this process, just set on fire to scare the hell out of him. It is a Romanian belief that animals that were terrified before being butchered taste better. First, the butchering party (for it is indeed a party) get very drunk, then lure the pig from its stall by promising it a better life in Italy if it comes out. Once the pig has been lured out into the open, the men will pounce on it with clubs, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">hatchets</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> or axes. One of the party will jump on the pig's back, lift its head and cut its throat. While the pig runs about in the mud, blood gushing from it's wound, the pig will be tackled again and thrown onto the fire. Then, while it is still twitching, the women and children will run out into the yard with forks and knives and carve slivers of it's bloody flesh and gobble it down amidst laughter and giggles. </span></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: justify;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">After the pig has finally succumbed to it's injuries, it is then randomly chopped into large, bloody, </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;">indiscernible</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: inherit;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="line-height: 21px;"> chunks, wrapped in a pig bladder and thrown into the freezer.</span></span></div><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />
</div>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4335495074787894794.post-20811297759798094702010-12-19T03:37:00.000-08:002010-12-20T03:30:51.797-08:00Come to Romania.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/2Q6yOubwI2I?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
Many people think that Romania is a small country. This myth is due in part to videos like this that depict average sized humans walking on tiny beaches or in tiny cities. Romania is actually quite large, say the size of Colorado and the people are generally the same size as humans everywhere, though not as tall as Kenyans.<br />
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2Q6yOubwI2I"></a>Fritzhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17340491372936768556noreply@blogger.com0