Summer Camp

So it's about time I confront the keyboard and my rapidly deteriorating ability to type and write a blog post. I figure summer camp is as good a thing to write about as any. Except for the fact that it will be heavily censored, as this took place at a church camp, and further censored as this is a family blog and swearing is not included, and censored even further because the participants will probably end up reading it. Maybe.

Friday, Aug 17: Fly to UAE, bid parents adieu, fly to JFK, reach Saturday somewhere over the ocean.

Saturday, Aug 18: Keep flying, fly to Pittsburg, wait around to be picked up by someone, we do not know who.
We assume Danny, a counselor, or maybe Father Daniel, or we don't know, and walk around asking random strangers for their phones until Claudiu, the (I think the word is deacon but I could be wrong) of our church and who was mostly in charge of the sports and games at camp. Honestly, I do not know the titles of anybody at camp. There were campers, priests, and then everybody else whose jobs were indeterminable.

Anyway, we drove from the airport to camp, an hour and a half which passed by way too fast, because all of a sudden we were there. Then we had to carry our big heavy backpacks up the gigantic hill to the girls' cabins, along with the sheets, pillows, sleeping bags, and towels Father Daniel had lent us (as we did not have any, except the sleeping bags, which are too thin to warm an icecube), and we got there and we said hi to everybody, and made our beds, and I ran up and down the hill a couple times for stupid reasons I can't remember, and at some point I got grass stains on my knee, and everything was a blur.

Sunday, Aug 19: Because it was Sunday, we had mass, so we had to wake up early and not eat and spend about an hour and half at the church, maybe two, I don't know because I don't wear watches, and then we had brunch, which was bliss. I spent the entire week borrowing clothes from everyone, and I spent that day wearing Dacia's sweatpants (THEY ARE BEAUTIFUL AND WARM AND COMFORTABLE AND I WISH I NEVER HAD TO GIVE THEM UP I LOVE THEM SO MUCH), and then when it was warm Andreea's shorts. I wore my shirts. Oh, and Eric's cap. That was mine for the duration of the week. Then that night, because I felt a bit sick, I got to stay at my cabin instead of going to church. The plan was to listen to Jason Mraz to keep myself awake and then go down to the Pavillion with everybody else to watch movies—a skit about St Pantelimon and then a video about the life of St Filofteia, who we named our camp after, and then Maria's and my video we made about going around the world. The plan did not work. I fell asleep, rushed down to the Pavillion to find them finishing the life of St Filo and then remembered I'd left my coat at the cabin. Bliss.

Oh, and they laughed at all the wrong parts. I blame exhaustion.

Monday, Aug 20: I had to skip church again, still out of illness, but it was okay, because I had a lovely time drinking tea with Doamna Mihaela, my counselor and an avid reader of this blog (HI THERE). But then we had to go back to church. Sigh. And then I felt worse again. Double sigh. We played some volleyball and me and some other girls took great pains to avoiding physical activity. In the end we brought the athletes some water, which was the extent of our exercise for the day.

Tuesday, Aug 21: I honestly can't remember Tuesday, except feeling ridiculously happy the whole time. Or at least most of it. During freetime, me and some of the other girls were playing card games like Mr President, then Anca and Gabriel showed up and we played chemps (pronounced "kemps"). At some point during the day we played some basketball. I played barefoot, which, in combination with hot pavement, will naturally result in gigantic ugly blisters.

Wednesday, Aug 22: I remember Wednesday even less than Tuesday, but it was the day we started the Olympics, which, for once, actually showed some sign of organization. We were divided into four teams, which we could name ourselves, so long as it was after a saint. The results were St Alexandra, St Spiridon, St Ghiorghie (which I think translates to George), and I can't remember the last one. It's Maria's team, while mine is Alexandra. Danny and Andreea were on Ghiorghie and Anca was on Spiridon with Ingrid. We played tennis, badminton, and basketball that day, and the winners were Maria's team for tennis and badminton and Ghiorghie for basketball. Klara, the future godmother of my daughter, and I prefered to invest our energy into writing a song about camp to the tune of Cotton-Eyed Joe. Then it was Father Gabriel's birthday and we had some absolutely delicious cake which everyone wanted seconds from.

Thursday, Aug 23: We continued the Olympics with soccer, volleyball, and swimming. Ghiorghie won the swimming, while Alexandra won the others, to my complete shock, as I have never won at the Olympics. Then, before we got into the pool, after volleyball, Ingrid and I started a whipcream fight, which has been taped by at least three different cameras: mine, Dmna Mihaela's, and Domnul Flechtenmacher's, who films all the scheduled events at summer camp so that he can make an official video at the end. Yes, this is his actual legit job there. Unfortunately for you, we have not yet uploaded anything off my camera to the computer, so until then, you must imagine it.

Then, during the afternoon, the Archbishop came, and we had a very long service that had something to do with St Parascheva, and we did not have an evening service.

Friday, Aug 24: We had another huge, early-morning mass, in which most of camp took communion, having done confession at some point earlier in the week. Again, we did not eat until brunch, which was again bliss, and then later we did a show for the Archbishop, where we sang, danced, and did two skits, more information on those later. And then later we went down to the river and went in canoes, which was nice.

Saturday, Aug 25: We left camp :( It was kind of funny, watching everybody run around to say goodbye to everybody else, pretending to push the cars to get them started... Eric spent our entire goodbye making me promise to give Anca a kiss and to tell her he loved her, because she wasn't there when he was leaving. So in the end, the awesomeness that is Roxy and I filmed me doing so.

I also left in a rush, as my ride was taking me to a little nowhere-town near Watkins, where I'd be spending the weekend with my friend. It was just under five hours, and they had a baptism to attend, which would take them another hour to get to, so the rush was understandable. As we were driving away, though, I saw Anca's brother Andrei drive past to pick her up. Naturally, I just had to say hi, so we stopped the car, I hopped out, and ran over. We hugged, said hi, said bye, and I left.

On the subject of skits, dancing, and music: I am not sure what began on which day, so I've included all the artsy things at the end. We painted icons, and when I say "we", I mean the adults, because we would start them, break for lunch, and then admire the finished product. At the end of the week, it was revealed that this arrangement was not liked by the campers, and it will probably be different next year.

Father Gabriel, whose birthday we celebrated, was the head of the drama department. We did two skits: a pantomime and a short play. The play was about St Pantelimon (which explians why we they watched the movie about him on Sunday), and I played a doctor that did not appreciate the fact that the saint healed his patients for free, setting an example for the other doctors to follow, and if you've ever seen a medical bill, it is obvious that they did not. This is because I (or at least, my character) appealed to Emperor Maximian, played by Eric, to kill the poor saint, which he did. In the pantomime, we did The Good Samaritan, in which Gabriel was the samaritan and Anca was the beaten-up traveller and I was the person with the house that the samaritan took the traveller to.*

*If you don't know the story, it goes something like this:
A man was travelling when he was set upon by two robbers (played by Roxy and Dacia). They took his coat and beat him to the point of death. A priest walked by, but did not help. A levic (a helper of the priest) walked by, but did not help either. Finally, a samaritan walked by, and seeing the traveller, checked to see if he was still alive, and seeing that he was, put him on his donkey (but as we had no donkey available, Anca was carried) and brought him to a house, where he gave the host two dinars and explained what happened. Then the samaritan said to use the dinars for the healing of the traveller, and if more was necessary, then he would pay the man back. If that last sentence made sense.

On Thursday, the dance teacher came, which we were very excited for, and we had a lot of fun learning lots of traditional Romanian dances from then until Saturday, when we left.

During the week, we did music class with Leo, and we learned a cantacle for St Filofteia and then one for maslu, which I don't know how to translate, but basically it's one of the Seven Holy Things of the Church and it's when two to seven priests gather and have a special mass, and anyone who goes is healed.

So yeah, that was a rather long and pretty bad summary of summer camp, and it sounds rather boring, but that's because all the interesting things that happened had to be censored. Sorry.

Colors

On the last day of the contest Capture the Color we found out that we were nominalized so we didn't lose any second. Here they are:

Blue

Lesotho is the third poorest country in the world. This bar was on top of a hill and had a few customers. I liked that I could interpret the written signs as "Be prepared, you are going to be disarmed by two sisters!"

Green

Tsiribihina River, Madagascar. Planting rice.

Red

Kyoto, Japan Preparedness, Japanese style

White

Taj Mahal, India 

We went to visit first thing in the morning and a heavy fog was all around us.  This man was sweeping the leaves that fell in the night time.

Yellow

Antsirabe, Madagascar

Water is scarce in Madagascar and is usually brought from the river or the water pump in yellow jugs. The boy was collecting them and caught a ride on his wheeled platform.

F'ailte gu Alba!

Ciamar a tha thu! (keh-mer a ha-oo) It means how are you in Gaelic. And the title translates as “Welcome to Scotland” but I don’t know how to pronounce it.

Thistle, the national flower.

We’re not six anymore, we’re just four, because the girls are in USA. Dubai-London, London-Edinburgh, a bus, a train and a car ride later we’re in Valerie’s bed-n-breakfast where we drink tea and chat. Apparently 18 C is a tropical weather for Scotland, too hot.

Though we had a good night sleep, we can’t make up our minds, which way to go, which thing to visit first. Edinburgh (pronounced lovingly by the Scots as Edin-bur-ah) is full of people because of the annual festival. There are events in every monument or building, including in the street. There are streams of human beings, pouring on the cobbled streets. The flow is impeded by rain, that seems to be capricious, choosing to drop on unprepared people. We have plastic rain coats: when we wear them, it doesn’t rain, when we take them off, we get drenched.

We take some pictures with a Scot dressed in full regalia and playing the pipes. We want to visit the castle but there is at least one hour line to buy the tickets. It would be easier to buy them on the internet and pick them up tomorrow morning. So we go to the Scotland Museum. 

I think this served as inspiration for J.K. Rowling...it is a trunk with 14 locks

You know, there are days and then there are some other days. We couldn’t figure out where to start, because the museum began half a level above from where we entered (though we had exhibits down there). “ We used to do things this way” starts almost any explanation. The presentation was beautiful, inviting, cohesive, but... TOO MUCH INFORMATION! We could have visited for days in a row to absorb all there was too know, and we have only three days here and four more in the Highlands, and there are so many things to learn. I realize I’m tired, maybe I hit the famous wall, the one that every long term traveler hits at some point. I could sit down and complain, wallow in self pity. Or I could acknowledge it, realize I have five more months to go and then I will be home, where I could have my familiar things and the same schedule, over and over again. Well, let’s enjoy those five more months!

At least some of us had fun!

The next day is sunny for 4 hours in a row! We are first in line for the castle and first to see Honors, the crown jewels. The Scottish ones. 

View of the castle and its view (partial)

Just one of the towers.

This is what I learned about Scotland: they were a headache for the Romans, Hadrian built a wall to keep them away. There were a few tribes, some speaking Gaelic, at some point they united and in the heat of the fight they would cry “Albannaich!”, meaning themselves, Scots. When Britain started to have an upper hand, the Scots decided to unite with it, on condition that they keep their crown jewels and the right to have their kingdom. And that’s why we can see them here (and not in London): a crown, a scepter and a sword (we can’t photograph the real jewels, just the metal ones, made for the visually impaired).

The castle in itself is small and not interesting. There is an exhibition about the Royal Scot, a regiment formed from others, where we learned that after the union, the Scots could wear the kilt and speak Gaelic only if in the army. So they joined in great numbers to keep their identity.

Mihai kept looking for a museum lauded by the guidebook. One about war, where everything is made interesting. At the entrance we watch a movie (again about Scots and how bravely they fought). Looking at the objects I caught with the corner of my eye the word Mysore. I was there, I saw the new palace! I read the small print, how the Scot officer killed the raja and took the exhibited objects as a war trophy. I can see in a painting from that time how the Raja is dying, his sword hanging now in a glass box. 

"For we fight not for glory, nor riches, nor honours, but for Freedom alone, which no good man gives up except with his life"
 I wonder how many Scotts lived in Mysore, India, deprived of their freedom in 1799.

I revolt against war, political and economical expansion. I look into Mihai’s eyes and I read my thoughts in them. We get out immediately. Maybe we’re not able to do anything against today’s wars, but we can stop visiting this kind of museums. And a little voice in my head asks me how many exhibits from the so many museums that I visited or want to visit are plundered from their rightful place?

We walk the streets, with their performers, and the crowds attracted by them.

“Museum of childhood” started as a hobby that grew too big for one building, so it occupies two, with a total of five floors. As society evolved, and the parents had a life that didn’t include raising their children, so appeared objects for their care: the bottle with a rubber nipple, the pram (for long walks, because air was good for their little lungs), the first formulas. Then walkers, toys grouped for ages or boys or girls, the majority from Western countries but some from other continents too (dolls from Japan or Africa, different game-boards).

We end our last day in the city at the National Gallery where we admire the Scottish paintings and tapestries.

View from close to the National Gallery, which has a no photos policy.

Then we rented a car and moved around Highlands. We started with Oban, a quaint town with the Doneli castle and some Colosseum like building on top of the hill. 



A gentleman in the War and Peace museum told us that if we can see a cloud over the islands (right across the bay), it means it is going to rain. 

If we can’t see the islands, it means it’s raining already. Weather used to be a subject of conversation and I didn’t understand why. Scotland’s weather could occupy people for ages. Let’s say it is cloudy, but not in a strata, the clouds are fluffy, just forming, rolling over the hill, in the valley, obscuring houses, releasing their droplets on this street, but not on that one, 10 yards further. A gust of wind moves the clouds apart, the sun shines, sparkling everything, raising a rainbow. A few seconds later, the dulness returns. No one comes in Scotland for the weather.

From here we drove toward the island of Skye and on the way we stopped at Loch Ness, that looked like a big flat lake. Nessie didn’t get out to say hello.

On the island of Skye we drove around, taking in the scenery, wild and unrestricted speckled with manicured gardens and colorful houses.

Kilt Rock

Windswept

We couldn’t leave Scotland without visiting another castle.

Eilean Donan Castle, we just took pictures.

 Every clan had a one, that is home for all who claim ancestry here. Dunvegan Castle, inhabited continuosly for 800 years by the McLeod (sounds McCloud) clan was our choice. Ioan had to look for rusted keys to give answers to the questions, like: “With what color was the Fairy Flag repaired?” “Mom, in the book says it was yellow, but here it looks red. Which one it is?” He got all his keys right and received an insignia. Tapaidh leat! (tap-a-lot) Thank you!

We're trying to capture the Dunvegan Castle, but the rusted gate does its duty!

One night on the bus separates us from London and our girls. We wait in line at the gate G instead of F as it is announced on the board. The F gate bus goes somewhere else. In front of us is a group of Indians, talking and helping each other. Above the hubbub raises a plaintive voice “But I waited in line since 9 o’clock. The board says gate F” In short there was a girl who wouldn’t make it in our bus, because she wasn’t in the correct line, because they changed the gates. The man who verified the tickets raised his voice, trying to impress that his job doesn’t include solving her problem. They go back and forth for a few minutes, then one Indian guy leaves the group to tell him to back up, don’t abuse her with words. Instantly two more uniformed men appear, they all concentrate on the man, voices raised, hands on his arms, ready to put him down “What is your concern?” “She comes from where I come! Someone has to help her!” Ooooh, the chivalry! I look at the girl, lost and tired, unable to ask for the curtesy to be moved in front of our line. She is Asian 100%! I wander how  the Japanese metro officers would have handled this situation...

We're watching you!
If you don't know what are these, the answer is at the end of the blog.

Seven days, eight nights, an ancient city and modern in the same time, narrow streets, history on every square centimeter, quaint hamlets, hearty breakfasts, everywhere flags, blue with the white cross of St. Andrew, sign of the Scottish identity.

Haggis, the brown round thing, a tasty and heavy treat for breakfast.

Beana cleibh Alba! (bee-anna clyb) Good bye Scotland!

And the answer is: cat's eyes on the road, that keep the cars in line.

Scotland

We are in Europe now. It's almost like home, which means there is much less incentive to write and much less to write about. No more exotic destinations, this is all about places that everybody knows, or has been there, or wants to go there or knows people who've been there and so on. With the girls gone to camp for one week we could choose any place to go. Competing for having us were Scotland, Ireland, Wales, even Norway. We didn't really weigh our options, we picked the first. Edinburgh, the historical Scottish capital and the place of the biggest August festival in Europe. One month of hundreds of shows in one old beautiful city. Checked. Two days to visit the city - crowded, exhausting, wet. It is all under construction, hey will put a tram throughout the center so every street is either dug out or blocked by traffic.

Edinburgh, Scotland

The Edinburgh Castle, a World Heritage Site

We went to the Edinburgh Castle - we saw the Crown Jewels and the Stone of Scone (recently moved back from London's Westminster Cathedral, this is the coronation stone of the ancient Scottish kings). We realized that we didn't really like war museums. What's the point of glorifying Scots who squashed Mysore when we've just been there? We loved Mysore. Let's get out of here. No more wars, no more war museums, no more false heroes, good in one country because they killed in another. Just stupid victims to the greed of their rulers. Play chess instead or go to the olympics. Scots were only allowed to wear their paraphernalia while in the army, so they all enrolled and became the most fearsome soldiers of the empire. What men would do for the right to wear a skirt.

We went to the National Museum of Scotland. Rated as a star attraction, it wasn't that good. Difficult to grasp in just a few hours, we did our best to understand their history and culture. I learned that there were once many mammals in Scotland, white foxes, bears, wolves, they killed them all.

The older side of the National Museum of Scotland looked very interesting, but we were already exhausted from the newer side

The Royal Mile, a little longer than one mile, is the historic street running from the old castle to the Queen's palace. It was busy, occasionally entertaining.

Edinburgh Festival

My highlight of the city was to be discovered in National Gallery: Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, a painting by John Singer Sargent from 1892. It was a beautiful surprise and a good reason to return at some point in the future. This is a picture of a picture:

Lady Agnew of Lochnaw, a painting by John Singer Sargent from 1892

We rented a private room in a house 45 minutes away from the city. After three nights we were supposed to get the owner's campervan for the next five days and travel Scotland in style. It was raining and their roads are really narrow and winding, I was hoping there would be a way to cancel that contract. Luckily, when the woman met us she got scared and put impossible conditions for giving us her van. She wanted about £1000 deposit and to keep our passports until we return! She explained that we "seem" OK, but she cannot trust us! What sort of people travel like that for a year. What if we disappear without trace...
It worked out well. We rented the tiniest little car from the airport, got the cheapest hotel reservations and took off to see Scotland. We went to Oban, Lochness and the Isle of Skye. Almost 1000 km through the highlands is enough to give someone an idea. I ordered no rain for 26 hours on the island of Skye and it worked! The rest of the time it rained and rained and rained.

Much more and much more interesting, is in Ileana's post: Failte-gu-alba

This was a really good car, Hyundai i10

Waterfront of Oban

Waterfront of Oban with (insignificant) ruins in the background

Oban, when it's not raining it is going to rain soon

Loch Ness

The bridge to the Isle of Skye

Dunvegan Castle

Scottish cow

Passing by a bridge used by Harry Potter

Last picture in Edinburgh