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Last night Stefan and I watched an TV episode of White Collar–actually we watched four episodes, because we are sort of obsessed like that–one particular episode involved a State Department family. The son had committed a crime and was being held in prison in Burma. In a video clip from prison, he was spelling a message using secret hand signals.

One of the characters said, "In case of danger, diplomats' kids are trained to use hand signals."

I looked at Stefan and we laughed. "In case of danger, have you been trained to use hand signals?" I asked him. He pounded his heart twice and flashed a peace sign–the peace out gesture.

"Okay, what's that one gonna mean?" I asked.

"I'm in trouble! Come and freakin' get me!" said Stef.


Diplomat's kid flashing the well known "My-mom-brought-me-all-the-way-to-Romania-and-then-she-took-my-picture-by-a-rock" secret signal.

Peter's been in the garage with ten pounds of green coffee beans for the last 24 hours. We packaged up the freshly roasted coffee and delivered it to the neighbors tonight. Miss our friends and family back home, but oh how I love not traveling during the holidays. I'm trying to get Stefan to play his Christmas songs on piano for me, but he won't. Santa just took a u-turn, says Serge. 

I'm trying to knit a bonnet by tomorrow. Can it be done? By me?

Marian
Doris
Cristy (say it with a Romanian accent: Krrrrrreeeeeesti)

All men.

Professional photo of a kingfisher, left. On the right, a squirrel shaking its head? No, my photo of a kingfisher. Seriously. You can't even tell it's a bird.

After our trip to the Danube Delta, home to over 300 species of birds and one of the best bird-watching places in the world, I have a new appreciation of bird photographers.

It's hella hard to get a good photo of a bird. However, I now know that herons cooperate better than kingfishers.

We took the bird-watching "party" boat out to visit nuns who live at the Saon monastery (shouldn't it be the Saon convent then?) They tend bees, ostriches and a flock of peacocks. They also sell honey, wine, candles and little wooden bracelets. And judging by the number of men hanging out with their shirts off in the sunshine, you can rent cottages and stay on the peaceful grounds. One young nun's family was visiting.

Our little group did not stay with the nuns. For $75 a night, we roughed it at the five star Delta Danube Resort.  We enjoyed the gorgeous pool and the dining room's large balcony with constant entertainment: great egrets circling and landing in the water below us and sunset and moonrise over the delta. When I close my eyes now, this is what I see.

The Danube Delta has been given World Heritage status. I think bird photographers deserve the same.

The other night over mind-blowing Thai food, we wracked our salmon curry-addled brains to remember the places we've stayed, people we've visited, the things that have defined the summers home for the last seven (7!) years.

Moon over the Napa River.

We will remember this summer 2012 trip home because:

We started in Paris with Grammie and stayed in that guy's apartment with the Jack Daniel's themed bathroom.

We celebrated Stefan's birthday with an ice cream cake at Villa Aunt Valerie and Uncle Bob. We met 3 month old Tatum, and Jayne was 2 and Tyler was 4 and Natalie and Dave showed Peter a photo on their iPhone and said, "What's wrong with Natalie?" and it was an ultrasound photo of my newest family-member to be.

Mike and Tanya let us move in, and Elliott was there finishing his first year of university and Stefan says he wants to go to U.C. Davis too.

Mom and her bf drama.

I went to North Carolina with four of my best friends I'd never been in the same room with all at once and we sang Jesus Take the Wheel.

I briefly visited my sister city of Seattle.

We had a great time, as always, with the Palmers at their cabin in Tahoe, and I have the bruises to prove it.

Peter brushed his teeth with anti-itch cream and never felt better.

The London Olympics, "Go Gabby!"

At the Del Monte Shopping center, Camille helped Stefan pick out his first pair of glasses.

Outlander. The most I've ever enjoyed reading 900-page novels entirely with a Sean Connery accent. Thank ye Emily for my latest addiction. Peter is going to love the kilt he's getting for Christmas.

We stayed one night at a hotel with a bunch of bikers. In its defense, it did have free breakfast at Denny's. That was in Napa, where these photos were taken.

I thought the highlight of the day would be the Berte Morisot exhibit, but no, it was when Stefan found a Bulgari bracelet in front of Notre Dame.

Or it was when Peter nearly kicked the guy who wouldn't get his feet out of this photo we were trying to take at the star in the very center of Paris. That's why Peter only has one foot in the photo–he was donkey-kicking a guy with the other foot. Also, since when do people put coins in the star?

Grammie walked an insole out her shoe. I think that's proof that we've sufficiently dragged her around Paris. More proof:

Camille and I got lost, but since then (read: wine) I've concluded that an hour lost in the 4th arrondissment is better than knowing where you are for days in some places.

The highlight tomorrow is suppose to be the trip to the Eiffel tower for the boat ride on the Seine, but we'll see.

I spent the afternoon poking through art supply stores on a Harry-Potter-Diagon-Alley kind of street called Hanal cu Tei in Lipscan, everyone's favorite neighborhood.

In this neighborhood, run down buildings stand next to refurbished ones, shabby belle-epoch chic dominates the mood. The stores and cafes that are open are busy, street muscians draw a pretty good crowd. At an artisan-kind-of market you can buy honey and homemade soaps, hand-knitted socks and, from an old man wearing a tie and sweater vest, funny decorated gingerbread cookies. 

Some of the streets are being re-cobble-stoned. I heard that a Spanish company won the bid to do the re-cobble-stoning. They came in and tore out all the old, real cobblestone, which they sold. Now they are repaving with cobblestones made of new cement. Romania. It's sad sometimes. That could be their tourism slogan.

Then on the way home, my taxi driver wanted to discuss whether God intervenes in the requests of humans, or is prayer a form of auto-suggestion. He believes in prayer because he feels the answers from God! Then he asked where I've traveled in Romania and he was super excited to hear that I'd recently come back from Lake Balae. 

He has seen yeti there! Well, he hasn't seen him with his own eyes, but he took photos there, and when he looked at the photos later, yeti is in them! Well, not yeti, but bears with lights coming out of their eyes! He told me he has seen yeti twice–with his "photographic eyes"–and that I should look through my photos of Lake Balea very carefully.

I don't know about the Lake Balea photos, but I think I see yeti in the lower left of the photo I took at the cookie stand! That's creepy!

We spent a long time throwing snowballs onto the frozen lake, then listening for the echo. Click on the photo to pretend you are there.