I went to a friend’s house for dinner last night and I swear it was just like an evening at Skeeter’s in Harlem. I had stuffed cabbage, ribs and fried chicken. The only difference: instead of hot sauce or barbecue sauce, they served sour cream. They were even watching Coming to America on the boob tube and laughing at Eddie Murphey’s antics. It was, needless to say, a foarte ciudat (very odd) experience. Even the women were dressed in extra tight, ghetto fab-style outfits, complete with designer nails and crazy hairdos. Rather than “Mr. Charlie” or “the man” holding them back, their battles are with the “EU,” but it’s nice to know that “the system” and “the government” are the bad guys everywhere, and “the revolution” accomplished nothing. If I drained all the color out of Harlem, I’d find myself in Romania. It’s too bad people can’t look beneath the obvious to find the similarities. There is a big difference when it comes to the music. I never listen to traditional Romanian music and get the urge to shake my groove thang. There are some instrumental solos played on a recorder-like instrument that are filled with such haunting notes of isolation that I feel on the verge of tears or am put in a mood of deep introspection. When I listen to those songs, I am sort of transported home and reminded of certain jazz riffs. I love the gypsy or tigan music. It’s very fiery and passionate and the vocals often remind me of the Pakistani gulwalls. But still the music affects the arms and the legs and the feet, where African-influenced music gets to the hips and the bootay. In my opinion anyway…for what that’s worth. Now for a bit of a bug-tussle I got into. . . I went to a party that the Film Studio had to thank the festival workers, which for me ended up being more pleas for cash than thanks. During the party, I heard someone mention that the Cultural officer who came from the US Embassy was gay. This statement caused further laughs, insulting imitations, and jokes. Although in Romanian, I could understand what was going on. Another person commented how it was a slap in the face to Romania that the US sent a gay Ambassador. Thank god I have the hearing of a canine and am able to pick up conversations within a ten-block radius. I abruptly ended the mindless conversation about mici (how to make these tasteless ground beef sausages) I was involved in to voice my disapproval of the homophobic tirade that was taking place on the other side of the room. Needless to say, the conversation got very heated and ended with two of the male participants leaving the room and slamming the door. I managed to get in a few zingers about how they have the morals and ethics of a curva (whore) because, although they despise the Ambassador and all he represents, they aren’t too proud to suck his dick when it comes to begging for cash for their tawdry little projects. Their bigotry and hatred for homosexuality is shocking. According to the law here, one can be arrested and jailed for being a member of an organization that promotes gay rights. It isn’t used very often, but it still exists and is randomly enforced. Of course, the usual buggery laws exist and there are numerous cases of gay-bashing and of police abusing homosexuals. I may have mentioned this before, but being in Romania now, must be like what it was for the civil rights workers when they went to the South during Freedom Summer. The only difference is that I am here to help the bigots. Hopefully, my stay will help some people open their minds and join the rest of the forward-thinking world (note I did not say the rest of the world…I am not naïve). It’s sad that the young people have these ass-backwards opinions. The average age of the people at the Studio party was 26. Foarte trist (very sad.) I also talked with a neighbor recently who asked me if I liked Romania. I gave my regular response, “da, imi place Romania” (yes, I like Romania). Curiously, he stated that he hated living in Romania because he always has to fight to make sure he isn’t being cheated. I chuckled afterwards thinking it’s not just foreigners that they try to screw over. Instead of begging for dvds, Listerine, and spices, I should ask you all to send cans of Crisco. Between Peace Corps’ unfairly enforced policies and the scams of the local inhabitants, my a-hole will be as wide and as used as the Holland Tunnel when I return. Did I mention, I went to pay my taxes (similar to a maintenance fee) and was charged too much. Big surprise?!!!! I went back to complain and demand a refund, but was told that they don’t give refunds. I am planning to deduct the overpayment from my bill next month. The only problem is if they don’t allow it, they can cut off my water and heat…so guess who will ultimately win that battle. Probably, the person who overcharged me pocketed the money so there is no real record of my overpayment. I have a receipt, but it’s probably meaningless. Don’t even ask if Peace Corps will help…they are about as useful and helpful as the 100 lei coin (as it’s 33,000 lei to the dollar…you do the math). Let me give you an example. I spoke with a site-mate and was told that Peace Corps had matched her with two horrible organizations. With the first one she was assigned to, her counterpart (each volunteer is provided with a partner in his/her organization who is to help with work and living situations) put her in an apartment that was owned by her son (this is not allowed, counterparts are not supposed to have any strings attached to the volunteer’s apartments). When the volunteer arrived the first evening, the counterpart had prepared dinner for her in the apartment. Little did she know that it was a planned romantic evening with the son. The counterpart left after the dinner was served and the son ended up molesting the volunteer. Her next organization ended up being a bunch of swindlers. This is all to show just how much Peace Corps researches the organizations and the living conditions of the volunteers. I guess being robbed at work, tricked into signing phony declarations, promised reimbursement of the theft and numerous other things by my organization that never materialize is small potatoes compared to some other volunteer nightmares. One sad, but somewhat comical situation: a mentally ill volunteer was sent home, but instead of going through the recommended treatment, he bought a ticket and returned to Romania. That alone brings his sanity into question. He is addicted to amphetamines and his drug dealer is a reporter for one of the local newspapers in Alba Iulia ( a town one hour away from Sibiu). The two often write articles about how the Peace Corps is a terrible organization and that he was sent home b/c they would not let him live like a Romanian. Recently, he was put in a Romanian mental institution and after he was released the headline read: Peace Corps Volunteer Survives 3-Day Nightmare in Mental Institution. I hear this is now Peace Corps’ major concern – trying to make it clear that he is no longer a volunteer. Thus, all molestations, abuses and other general misfortunes that happen to current volunteers take a backseat. After all, the good name of the Peace Corps is under attack. I am planning to run for the volunteer advisory committee, which acts as a watchdog committee for the volunteers, if only so I can have access to these files and complaints so that I can document the negligent acts of the Peace Corps staff in Romania.