Another sleepless night…you’d think I’d be used to it by now. In some ways I am but by the twelfth night, I start wondering why I was cursed with such a disease. Why can’t I turn off the lights and drift into the glorious world of slumber with visions of sugarplums dancing in my head. But soon as the moon comes up I get a burst of energy no matter how snoop-doggy-dog-tired I was during the day. It’s now 3:00AM and I am wired. I was just chuckling thinking that it would be great if all of a sudden I grew fangs and started feeding on the blood of the local virgins in town, you know, become a regular dracul. My life’s direction would become crystal clear…I joined the Peace Corps, subconsciously knowing that I would be reunited with my ghoulish routes in Transylvania. But what is truly funny, there is a very bright street lamp outside of my window that illuminates my apartment, and for the past 3 ½ hours I have been gazing at my most prized possession, which sits so regally in the corner. I often look at it and smile, sometimes I even touch it, or dare I say squeeze it, but I never even imagine using it. What would my life be without it…it’s my last link to all I know that’s comforting and familiar…hell, it’s civilization in a package. This little slice of heaven on earth is my two-ply, double roll pack of Charmin. Right now it’s sitting on the bed next to me. That rosy-pink face of the little cherub on the package gently resting its head on one of the soft, fluffy rolls fills me heart with glee. When I look at the package, I don’t even care that blood-shot, baggy eyes are the size of half-dollars. This package gives me rest. Just knowing that I have it gives me solitude. I hide it when other Peace Corps volunteers come to visit. I wouldn’t waste a square on their crusty rumps. Recently, I received an email inviting me to a Craciun (xmas) celebration. When I first got the message I thought as a present to the group I would bring one of my double rolls as an offering of holiday cheer. Thank god I’ve snapped out of that warm, fuzzy moment and collected my two-cents of wits to realize that HELL NO I WON’T SHARE MY CHARMIN!!!!! I’d rather give away my laptop. It’s a shame, but I really do look at the package and smile and hug myself and rock with pleasure. OK enough about that…it’s getting embarrassing and boring. Next subject, Richard Parent, thank you for calling me last night. It was soooo great to hear your voice. Talking to you made buying the cell phone worthwhile. Oh yes, I don’t think I mentioned my latest friend. A local, Romanian woman named Oana (wanna) Schiopoiei (shkeeohpwhya). She is a twenty-six year-old attorney with a lot of cash and a car. She is a very pretty, blonde with a very large face and no neck to speak of and she’s under five-feet tall. I call her “Lil Zsa Zsa” because she looks just like Zsa Zsa Gabor. Now that I have a cell phone she calls me constantly. We go to the local beauty salon and get facials, pedicures, and massages, all for under $13.00. She takes tennis lessons and always has a plan for the weekend. Next weekend she wants to take me to an Ostrich Farm just outside of Sibiu. She told me it’s very lovely and the rooms are exquisite and very cheap. She feels it’s her duty to show me that Romania is not all stray dogs and dirty, glue-sniffing beggar children. I am more than welcome to see the world of the Romanian upper-class. Very interesting, her father was head of the local Securetate in Sibiu during Ceaucescu’s rule. He was one of the evil government muscle torturing and killing the rebels. Anyway, when the revolution hit, Oana’s family was a target and people often shot at their house, which is why she lost the hearing in one ear from a bullet that grazed her head. She has told me many stories about how her father was beaten and held for ten days with 300 other men in a pool while they awaited their trial. Before the revolution, her grandfather became rich because he was the only bread baker in Sibiu. Somehow, through his government connections, he was allowed to own a business and prosper, which was a communist no-no. However, she told me that the Ceaucescu’s loved his bread and often came into feast upon it. Also, her family’s current housekeeper was Ceaucescu’s maid before the revolution, and she has told them that all the stories that Nadia (the gymnast, but I can’t remember how to spell Comanici) told about how she was raped and drugged by Ceaucescu’s son are lies. Oana also denies that her father could ever have harmed anyone while he was with the Securetate. I am looking forward to meeting her father and hearing more stories. At a dinner party I had (pasta in a cream sauce with smoked salmon and broccoli), I introduced her to another Peace Corps volunteer who was staying with me. Well they hit it off and now they are dating, which is why I got a free ride to Timisoara (8 hours by train, but 4 ½ by car) and she got a free ride from Andy. Timisoara is the Posh Corps dream, but most importantly, it’s the place where the revolution began. Almost every block has a memorial to the young students who were murdered during the revolution. It’s very chilling to walk along and stand in the very spot where 6 or 7 college students were massacred in 1989. It’s the most westernized of all the cities in Romania. In one weekend, I was able to have Chinese, Greek, Mexican, and Indian. When I went into an Indian restaurant, I was happy to see so many brown faces and there were real live curry Indians in there stirring up the pots. When I went in, I didn’t know what language to speak, so I said hello in Urdu (even though they spoke Hindi), asked for a menu in Romanian and then through in a little Spanish and ended with English, after all I was in Timisoara. I wanted to seem international too like the rest of the town. The region where Timisoara is located is called the Banat and everyone in the rest of Romania considers the Banat a different country. I digress, back to the Indian food…needless to say, I ordered tons of finger-lickin’ good stuff and giggled that night as I let out tons of eye-tearing good gas. If only Oana would turn out to be an insatiable whore with a taste for Peace Corps johnson so that I could go and visit all my friends dispersed throughout the country. Have I described my Peace Corps friends? There’s Peggy (which most locals pronounce Piggy). She is a forty-two year-old brain. When she was a teenager, she babysat Amy Carter in the White House. Odi Diaz, he is 70, and a true wheeler-dealer. He is back in the US on business…something about a SWOT analysis on tourism and comparing it to the tourist trade in Miami (where he is from). Richard, a retired Dow Chemical exec living out his college dream to be in the Peace Corps, he is a lot of fun and always has bottom-line answer to everything. Charlie Davis, he’s in his 60s, he is a retired accountant and former Coast Guard captain. He has a great southern drawl and has given up on learning Romanian. He said he’ll have to get by on the ten words that he knows. Also, we are planning to rent a sailboat in the summer and Charlie will navigate our rag-tag crew. I hear we can rent a boat out of Turkey that sleeps 8 for $700 a month. It even comes with a crew, but Charlie wants to see if we can get it without and I will be the galley chef. I do have other friends, but I’ll save them for another night. Yesterday, I bought a used washing machine for $95 (it’s got a year guaranty). I went to see about getting my clothes washed at the Laundromat and was told it would cost me $20. Well, I am here for two years…you do the math. I tried washing my clothes a few times in the tub, but after bending over the side for two hours trying to scrub and rinse, I couldn’t stand up straight for five minutes. I walked around hunched over in my apartment until the muscles relaxed so I could straighten up and don’t even think about drinking from that position, which reminds me…this country lacks straws. But if that isn’t one of those you know your old when stories… Suzan, how is life? I thought that would get your attention. How are Renata, James and the twins? Well, it’s now 4:30 and I should get some rest before I have t get up in an hour. Also, it’s very cold and rainy here. I am getting a cold I think b/c my sinuses feel raw and hairy. On that note I say good night. In case you are wondering…I will save this to a cd and send tomorrow at work. In my mind I am having a conversation with you. Too bad it’s soooooo one-sided. Please write back and tell all that is going on in your lives, especially if it involves spiders, old webs and cat-shit (Richard I am still chuckling now. Again, thanks for the call). Vicki