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.
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the road to lake balea, the transfăgărășan highway, yeah that
You know you've started your Romanian roadtrip and have left Bucharest behind when you have to drive around horse carts.
The Top Gear guys drove the road to Lake Balea last spring–in a Masarati, a Austin Martin and a Ferrari. We weren't really sure what to expect–maybe we should have watched the show before the drive?
But it started off pretty.
And then got stunning.
Then we started climbing up and seeing snow. Kind of a lot of snow.
Then it got ridiculous.
Since I've been home and watched the show, I know now that the Top Gear guys describe this road as the "best race track turns in the world, knitted together."
The road went up and up and up, a million hairpin turns, to an elevation of 6000 feet, then we came to what looked like end of the road. I'd heard the pass can be closed when it snows, but I didn't expect it to be closed in October. We drove hours of switchbacks and can't get to the lake?
As we approched what we thought was the end of the road, next to a WC with the best view in the world, we saw a tunnel.
You come out of the tunnel, (the longest in Romania) pass the lake by mistake, have to TURN AROUND on this road where there is absolutely no turning around, then go back up an even steeper road to the tiny alpine lake, almost completely frozen. The hotel couldn't be any more on the lake, in fact, we were a little afraid of it falling in.
They build an ice hotel in December, so I can't wait to go back.
In the night our water bottles in the car froze, so I was glad I'd stuffed the dog into a suitcase and smuggled her up to our room. She has no idea she's thrown up three times on what the Top Gear guys call the "best driving road in the world."
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spare me
Somewhere between Moscow and Bucharest, our spare tire was stolen. I don't like to think ill of others so I won't accuse one or the other except to say that it was documented that I had one when the car was parked in Moscow and when it arrived here in Bucharest, it was documented that we didn't (have one). My first thought was to buy it back on ebay! But then it occurred to me that it would take up to 3-4 weeks and we are planning a trip through the Romanian back woods next week and a spare tire is better insurance than… actual insurance. If I were a gambling man, I'd bet the odds on a flat tire were greater than getting in an accident — but the truth is, you never know.
So I set out in search of a spare tire locally. I thought a used one would be the way to go, seeing as to how I hope never to use it. A week of inquiry all led to "no." My 1999 Toyota Land Cruiser is either too old for old parts or American and therefore too rare to find in Europe. Save your breath on the fact that they are all made in Japan. European ones are different.
Plan B - look to buy a new one: Three tire stores I drove by did not have the ability to order me a rim. "Too old" they said. And a tire my size is about $328 (I paid $117/tire 3 years ago but they were on sale). Romanian Parliament just passed a law that demands that tires be rated for snow and mountain hazardous driving or you can receive a huge fine (someone knows someone in the tire business). So tires are expensive here and rims for an 11 year old car are near impossible to find.
Plan C – I drove to the Toyota dealer. Ciprian (pronounced "Chiprian") is a very nice guy. He works in the parts department there. His English is good and he is sympathetic to my cause. He believes the Gypsies had something to do with it. No! Actually, he says he knows the Gypsies had something to do with it. We spend an hour looking on line: There is a rim for my vehicle but it is listed as made for Toyota 2002 – 2008. Then it says in fine print that it will fit any Land Cruiser model and in parenthesis if says, (not to be used as a spare). We debate why this is so. I figure it has to do with the center opening which it seems to lack. This open center rim is essential to suspend the spare under the carriage. So what if we buy it and exchange it with the rim already on the truck and use the old rim as a spare? Ciprian is hesitant. Apparently refunding a part after buying it is the Acme of bureaucracy. "This is a 4 signature and stamp case," he informs me. In my case, it's more because I have my own government to deal with to get the VAT tax refunded.
I decide to gamble after all and order the rim. Now to finding a tire. We find one that is actually a reasonable price and turns out to be the very same tire that is already on my car. Excited prematurely, I urge him to order it. He calls the shop and informs me that they have it but may not be able to deliver it before 5PM when the Service station at the dealership closes. They are located across town and only have one delivery truck. Of course, I can go get it myself, but my work schedule is pretty booked on Fridays. So we decide I will go get it as soon as they open, drive it to the dealership, leave it there for them to see if the rim fits, mount the old tire on the new rim, place the new tire on the old rim, and mount the brand new spare under the car.
The early morning did not go as planned. I knew it as soon as it started. I forgot my wallet when I walked to the bakery for croissants, a sure omen. I engaged a concierge service from the embassy that will do just about anything for a price. They called me back and informed me they found another similar tire a bit more expensive but far closer to our location. I agreed to let them buy it and deliver it to me. I then drove to the dealership.
The truck was lifted on the rack and we stood around wondering if the rim would fit or not. Yes! It fits! But there was one little problem. The lug nuts that anchor the rim to the wheel are different. So if the spare is used, the old lug nuts must be saved to use. An important yet small sacrifice to have a spare. At close examination, the rims are different and "look! You need new brake pads!"
At the end of the day, all patients were seen, although I was late, and I now own a spare I hope I never need. And the squeal I developed since driving in Romania from the brake indicators is also gone. Must have been the Gypsies!
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at least I didn’t run into dracula
Who else besides one of the three little pigs lives in this house? On my running route, between our house and the embassy, lives, I assume, Grandmother, of Little Red RIding Hood fame.
When I was five or six years old I HEARD, with a wheelbarrow full of coins, in the hall, coming towards my room, the toothfairy. Seeing this wolf/stray dog that looks exactly LIKE a wolf right in front of that little house felt like that. I'm never going running in my red riding hood again!
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vintage horror
The running path by our house looks like it might be good for mushrooming. And I'm pretty sure The Big Bad Wolf is wearing Grandmother's nightgown and glasses and waiting for Little Red Riding Hood at the end of that path.
And look what came in the mail today! 600 pages of Annotated Dracula, with an introduction by Neil Gaiman! I'm excited. Creeped out, but excited.
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one month in, we started with
1. As opposed to the French school, where you just read, at the American school before you read, you discuss why reading is important.2. Still need to find the Brancusi section of the National Art Gallery, but Van Brughel could sure paint flowers.
3. Camille was right, it's sort of like France and sort like Africa.
4. Africa with reallly good wine.
5. And malls that have Starbucks with wifi, Mossimo Dutti and yes, Cinnabon. And a charming, sort of dive-y old town with antiques, art supplies and wedding dress stores galore, like a five-hundred-year-old Eureka, California (Or a 30%-as-hip Pearl district in Portland) with a million times more outdoor cafes, better weather, more grandiose architecture and cobblestone streets. If this were Portland it would be SO full of itself.
6. Esperanto fans, attente! Bonjour for good day, bona sera for good evening! Mersi, arriveder, casa, unday (where), aichi (here), maina (tomorrow) da and nu–all the languages you know, combined into one! We are signed up for official language training, but the embassy just moved, so like everything, they are overwhelmed and will start…sometime, maybe maina.
7. Sunny and in the 80's everyday so far, but you can have the brand new embassy pool on a Saturday all to yourself.
8. Extreme lack of manhole covers!
9. Today while running I passed six street dogs. None of them have bitten me so far.
10. The best part of Romania is out of Bucharest, and we haven't even been there yet
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i’ll never be over it
So there I am, wandering down Ianou Nicolai with my brand new copy of Wildwood under my arm, musing about how it's probably the only copy in Romania. I don't even want to start reading it, because, I don't care if it's bad! I'm going to love it! Colin Meloy has more twitter followers than David Cook for god's sake, he's the lead singer of a supposedly indie band, and Carson Ellis illustrated this little series of JA books called, oh, Lemony Snicket. The illustrations in Wildwood are so good they HURT. Mr. Meloy was just on NPR's Wait Wait Don't Tell Me, so how huge can he get in my world? So, let the book be a piece of non-interest, I'll love it regardless.I read the first paragraph. It's GENIUS. Also, it invokes this cozy, in, Portland-ness: knitting and coffee and libraries and cutely dressed babies– all described with a sweet humor, and, yeah, I'm on page two. If I were home, maybe I'd hate it because it's possibly overhyped, but you know, in Bucharest, it's pretty low-key, compared to say, soccer or actually, anything.
I read the back flap. One paragraph each about the author/illustrators. And I discover that Colin Meloy once wrote a letter to Ray Bradbury and that Carson drew when she was little and They. Are. Married.
Carson Ellis, the COOLEST illustrator EVER is MARRIED to Colin Meloy, lead singer of the Decembrists? How can they not kill each other in I'm-more-current-than-you combat?
My version of a creative collaboration? I demonstrated worlds colliding with my hands and Stefan did the explosion sound effects.
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keep tahoe blue
This homeleave has gone SO fast. The blissful QM2 trip home was followed by NYC for a day, then 4th of July fireworks from the very cool lake-front cabin my sister hooked us up with at Donner Lake. We brought my mom up to Tahoe and the first morning here we heard that Peter's niece, our sweet Emily, had died, which has colored our entire trip blue.
Peter took off to see his family, then came back in time for a visit with our "old" friend Gina and her new husband. We all visited the dentist, typical home-leave-work. Then Peter and Stefan flew to San Diego and Stefan's dream: Legoland. A hike in the Sierras and then I got my new blue bike, which I brought to Tahoe. By myself for a few days I rode and ran, I think as much as during the two-week Triathlon! Only outside and with a lake view or surrounded by 100 kinds of Sierra wildflowers.
Peter and Stefan went to a motorcycle race. Camille — with 88-year-old-Grammie at the wheel! — went up to Oregon for a sweaty week with her race-horse training cousin, and got to know some family along the way. A burrito bowl from Chipotle and an Anthropologie side-trip later, I was back in Tahoe, playing Words With Friends, and listening to our friend's band, lakeside.
A couple days later we saw those same friends, Luanne and Evan, and they took our kids to Marin for a few days of constant drumming and s'mores. Then, a last weekend with Ludmilla, Sonja and Mary, Emily's nearest. Blueberry galette, bbq chicken, and today, a final hike around the lake and a swim.We love it here, the frozen yogurt place and bears wandering the woods and the condo we rented, so clean and cheerful, with a swimming pool that has a resident bunny. I hope we can buy a place in Tahoe someday, but not until the prices have gone as far down as they can possibly go. And then I want a place like this, where in the morning I hear coyotes howling like loons and chipmunks scurrying around and around the pine trees and blue jays.
The Washoe said that The Lake of the Sky rejuvenates the spirit. I think not only the lake, but also the sourdough bread from Truckee Bakery and the zillion stars in the sky.
Summer isn't over, we have Washington DC still to come before the mystery of Bucharest; I hope your days are full of these kinds of blue skies and that like Peter, your iPhone works after you take it kayaking.
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how to be emily
Have amazing blue/green eyes that are almost scary.Crochet gifts for friends and read all of Dickens by age 9.
No matter how late you've stayed up the night before drinking apricot beer, show up to work at the bakery at 5 am with immaculately beautiful braided blond hair.
Play the bass as a teen-ager.
Have a great stomach and be fabulously thin and gorgeous always, but never think you look good at all.
Look good wearing an apron.
Get a bracelet of poison ivy tattooed on your wrists to hide the scars.
Be a bug-bite magnet.
Remind everyone that everything is bullshit.
Have an adorable lisp as a little one so that 30-some years later we still refer to "pe-othed e-ors" when buying earrings.
Be a technophobe and try to convince everyone you know of all the things you can't do, while doing everything you do impeccably well, including: decorating your house, making croissants from scratch and carving your own temporary teeth out of fimo clay.
Enjoy your infants.
Get your house ready for Christmas like it is the most important thing in the world.
Be a really good hugger.
Thank you for the blog idea thelipstickchronicles.com.