Anisoara

Today I said what I think may have been my first goodbye to a local friend. Anisoara is leaving on Saturday to visit her daughter in Virginia and won't be back until mid May, a couple of weeks after I'll have left. Her daughter moved to the states a few years ago to be with her American husband and last year at about this time, their twins were born. A little boy and a little girl, the boy with dark green eyes and the girl with bright blue. I know because Anisoara has shown me countless pictures of them. She has also shown me countless pictures of her daughter, her husband, her house in the countryside, her dog, her life.

The first time I got a peek into this quirky lady's life was two years ago, when I stayed at her apartment during my site visit. When I think back to that weekend, which was my first introduction to the city of Sfantu Gheorghe, to my assigned agency (the EPA) and to the people I'd be working with for the next two years, one word comes to mind: awkward. The whole weekend was full of awkward, especially with Anisoara. But not a bad awkward, a very comical and enjoyable awkward.

In the mornings, she'd poke her head into my room and say "Ereen, please come to chicken." I'd get up and go into the kitchen (aka chicken), where she had already set out a typical Romanian light breakfast of cucumbers, tomatoes, eggs and bread. As we munched and tried to think of things to say (my Romanian and her English were at about the same level: beginner), she would start dancing to the music playing in the background as she ate. Just a little bit, a little sway and dip of the shoulders, a little bob of the head and a little wobble on the stool. Then she'd start to hum along with the tune and clearly there was no other option than to join in. So there we'd sit, eating the breakfast she'd prepared, awkwardly dancing and humming in our seats. And smiling.

On the last night of my site visit, I was in my room pretending to study when she knocked on the door, walked in, sat down next to me and opened up a photo album on her lap. During that entire weekend, I had hardly learned anything about her, but through those pictures I learned volumes. It was easy. She'd point to a picture of a young, beautiful smiling lady in a park and say "my daughter, Virginia" and I'd nod. Then a picture of a handsome man "daughter husband" and I'd nod. Next came an old picture of a man in the snow "My husband, dead" and I frowned. She never explained how he died. The next picture was newer and showed a man working on a ship. She said "new husband" and I nodded. It went on like this for over an hour and I learned the basic story of my new friend's life.

There is total truth in the phrase "a picture's worth a thousand words", especially when those thousand words are in a foreign language. Just this week, Anisoara showed up at work with a new stack of photos to show her friends and I looked over every single one of them. She brings in new photos every month or so and I never tire of looking at them, for some reason. Especially the ones of her daughter. I think it's because we're leading opposite lives, in a way. She being the Romanian in America and me being the American in Romania.

Anisoara has always been the top attendee at my English hour, almost never missing a class, and I hope those lessons help her out over the next two months as she gets a sample of what I consider home. Today we kissed eachother's cheeks and hugged and I tried not to think too deeply as I said "mai vorbim, mai vorbim" (we'll talk more, we'll talk more) as we parted. Anisoara's one of the few people I've met here who almost always has a smile on her face and a hearty laugh ready to go. I'll miss her.