A Recap

I kind of wanted to go with toamna colors here, but I'm not sure if it worked out. At least it's more Octoberish than all that green watery goo. October's one of my favorite months...the weather finally starts to get chilly, the leaves start to get rid of all that green sameness, the books I read get more engrossing, the hot chocolate tastes a little sweeter, and the cookies bake a little higher. Good news all around.

The past two weeks have been a bit busy. I had a site visit from my program manager and, although I feel pretty decent here at site, it was still something to stress out about. The visit went well and coincided nicely with the completion of the rough draft management plan for Reci, our nature reserve. I've also recently changed my schedule, so instead of working from 8 - 3 Monday through Friday, I'm going in on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which will allow me to pursue other projects on Tuesday and Thursday (other projects do include blogging it up, like right now...but only occasionally). I feel much more free now. I like the agency I'm working with, but a nearly 40 hour a week job behind a computer is not what I had in mind for my time here. At all.

Following the site visit, I had a good friend stay with me for a couple of days and, as much as I like visitors, I'm constantly worried that they're not having a good time and that I'm not being a good host. And I'm not a good host. I know it. I can't cook, I don't have a TV, all I have is floor space for extra sleepers, I only have two bowls and two plates, my shower leaks horribly, and the only thing in the fridge is some old cheese and a couple jars of jam...and some chocolate. But I don't tell them about the chocolate. Because I'm a bad host.

My unfortunate guest and I traveled together to a small city in the Transylvania region called Turda (pronounced "tourduh", but still mocked by many), where we were both scheduled to volunteer for a little somethin' called Turda Fest. Turda probably doesn't mean much to the average person, but it is now the home of the world's longest onion chain (check out the pictures on my flickr, if ya feel like it). Little did we know it when we arrived, but the main task of every volunteer was not only to set up, run, and tear down the festival, but also to prepare nearly 6 kilometers of onions for measuring. Not a small task. There were many moments during the weekend when we would all kinda stop for a second and think about what a stupid waste the whole ordeal was - there was no plan for what would happen to the onions after the festival, the work that went into it greatly overshadowed the enjoyment of the festival for anyone involved, and who really gives a darn about which city in the world has the longest onion chain, anyways? But, as we labored on with the assistance of the ladies who not only grew the onions, but braided them together, too, I sensed a bit of pride going through the group. It's amazing just how much work, no matter how trivial and meaningless, a few people can get done. And, at the end of the night, as the measuring wheel rounded the last corner that would make Turda's small fame official, we all cheered a little bit and I caught sight of some happy tears in the eyes of the ladies who had been with these onions since day one. Pride can come in strange forms, but as long as it's there, bringing a group of people something to smile about, who cares if it's comprised of onions instead of Olympic gold medals.

The day following Turda Fest, I was off to Covasna City for a two-day conference I helped (minimally) to organize. I gave a presentation on Desert Tortoise monitoring and tried not to smile too much at the snores coming from the back of the room. Mine was the last presentation of the whole conference and it was understandable, though a bit amusing. The people who were awake at least seemed interested. Now life's a bit calmer and I'm spending today not doing a whole lot. It feels nice.