Because It's Breaking

Spring is in full swing out here.

The weather's been really nice the last few days, although Io and I don't get much chance to go out in it, alas. We've come to the reluctant conclusion that Gabriel is afflicted with the Dread Colic. You hear about this when you're having a kid, but it's supposedly a 20% chance so you just hope it doesn't happen to you. But it looks like we're it.

Colic is pretty bad stuff. Gabriel cries for no reason (i.e., he's fed, changed, and the right temperature) for at least an hour or two several times a week. Some days he's great and doesn't cry at all except when there's something actually wrong, but some days he'll cry for 3 or 4 hours straight.

Which is really stressful. I mean, any loud noise for hours at a time is stressful, which is why my government uses it to torture -- I mean, enhancedly interrogate -- prisoners. But a baby crying is even worse. Your brain is hard-wired to respond to a crying baby, especially your own crying baby. I can be in a deep, dream-state sleep, and the second Gabe starts crying I bolt up in bed like it's electrified. So to have him crying for hours, even if you know what it is and that you've done everything for him you can, it abrades your nerves to the breaking point. I've been told of couples who had a kid with colic, and abandoned their plans to have further children. And I assume it's worst of all for Gabriel himself, who is presumably genuinely uncomfortable for some reason that nobody can figure out or fix, which just kills me.

So far, everyone is mostly pulling together and getting through it despite all the frayed nerves, so that's good. We're trying one colic remedy after the next, and most of them work to one extent or another, at least for a little while. They say colic lasts until the baby is 3-4 months old, and Gabe is already five weeks. So there's light at the end of the tunnel. Io's theory is that babies are so cute because if they weren't, none of them would survive. She's probably right. It's amazing how Gabe can be so stress-inducing when he's crying, but when he's sleeping or smiles or is looking around at stuff, he breaks your heart. Even if, like me and the Tin Man, you have no heart.*

This was a very important week in our household: the Steaua-Dinamo soccer match. Steaua and Dinamo are both soccer teams from Bucharest, and are arch-rivals. This dates back to Communist times, when sports teams obviously couldn't be privately owned professional enterprises, so each team was associated with some institution or another. Steaua was the team of the Romanian Army, and Dinamo was the team of the MAI -- Romania's secret police, equivalent to the Russian KGB. Those two institutions were often at loggerheads, and with both teams based in Bucharest and being the #1 and #2 teams in Romania, they couldn't help but hate each other. Fans from both sides, but especially Dinamo, routinely get in brawls and engage in other sorts of hooliganism. In 1997 Dinamo fans set Steaua's stadium on fire. The photo at right is from the match this week. Dinamo players apparently smuggled smoke grenades into the stadium, and then tossed them to their fans. The city had a full unit of SWAT police already in the stadium, who moved in with riot shields and truncheons.

So the match was a big deal in our house. Everyone was looking forward to it all week, and once it started Gagi, Io and I were glued to the screen most of the time. Tania's not a soccer fan. Neither am I, actually, but I wanted to watch since it's a big deal. Although I've always said that soccer is boring and lame, after watching this game I have to say that soccer is also way too long. What kind of sport goes for 90 minutes? Sports are an hour. It was fun to watch with everyone and cheer for Steaua, even though we lost 1 to 0 (that's ONE SCORE IN NINETY MINUTES), but I am definitely not a soccer guy.

Moment of Zen:

**

* With that image, The Wizard of Oz now has two photos on this blog, tying them with Back to the Future.

** OK, now they're winning.

And Yet It Moves

Easter in Romania! Quite an experience. Easter preparations continued throughout the day Friday and Saturday. I helped by going on an expedition with Gagi for Romanian Easter cake (called "cozonac"), during which I learned how bad my broken Romanian can be. I tried to ask whether the store carried fresh cozonac, but accidentally asked whether they had any cozonac made from towels. Good work! We're done here.

The Easter traditions actually started at midnight on Saturday, with a mass and a sermon (which we didn't go to) and a ceremony that I think was called The Traveling of the Light.

Everyone -- and I mean, everyone -- gathers around the church at midnight. Even for Io's small neighborhood church, the churchyard and the surrounding streets were full of people. The church bells ring, and the priests come out carrying ritual candles. Everyone in the crowd is carrying an unlit candle, and the priest lights the candles of the nearest people, who then use their candles to light those of the people around them, and so on. In that way, the light travels through the crowd until it's a sea of candles, symbolizing (I assume) spreading the faith. Then everyone walks home with their candle, which they place in a special holder on the wall. I'm not sure whether the photos are really visible on the blog (they're fairly low quality -- my camera has a low-light setting, but it's not like it's a professional's camera), but you can see them in the high-res versions on the Picasa site. Which, by the way, is now linked over on the right.

Io, Aunt Reli, and Tania

If you get your candle all the way home and it's still lit, you're supposed to have good luck all year. Because of that, most people use wide candles that have a religious-themed wind-breaker at the top. Io sniffed and looked down her nose at those candles, telling me that when she was a child in the village, you had to get home using a taper, in the wind, uphill both ways, etc. These city folk! They have it so easy.

The whole thing is a pretty cool sight. After that, we all came home for a bunch of food, despite the fact that it was one in the morning at this point. I didn't really eat much, especially since many of the dishes involved either vegetables or goat organs. If those were the two last food groups left on Earth, I would probably eat my own arm. The next day, it was time for guests and Easter dinner.

We had great-grandpa and great-grandma Negru over, along with great-grandma Gomoiou and Ioana's aunt Reli. Just the close family, but even with just them the house was pretty packed -- nine people and one bathroom. Fortunately, one of the nine isn't toilet-trained yet.

There was a big meal, the centerpiece of which was the cooked goat. I've never eaten goat before. First time for everything!* It was actually pretty tasty. There were also many other dishes, including cozonac and lots and lots of hard-boiled eggs.

The best Romanian Easter tradition is the egg-knocking duel. Two people each hold a painted, hard-boiled egg in their fist, with the end sticking out. Then one person bangs his egg into the other person's until one of the eggs cracks. If your egg cracks, you're the loser and the other guy gets to take your egg. Io tells me that back before the revolution, the egg-knocking contest was serious business, because eggs (like everything else during Communism) were hard to come by. Some people would try to cheat by using stronger-shelled eggs (like duck's eggs) or even painted wooden "eggs." Grandpa Negru was apparently a champion egg-knocker in his day.

Vanquished by an old woman

Nobody says "Hello" or "Good morning" on Easter. Instead, when you see someone they say "Christ is risen," and you're supposed to respond "Truly, He is risen." To an atheist from a nominally secular country where saying "Merry Christmas" can cause a stir, this is pretty creepy and cultish. I told Gabe that the second someone comes through the door in a hooded robe carrying a wavy dagger, we are out of here.

Joking aside, it really is a little weird. I've been trying to establish some boundaries with Romanians about the fact that I'm an atheist and don't believe in any of this hocus-pocus, but it causes friction every time I refuse to participate in a religious ritual. I stood firm on saying "Hello" to people, but then I found out the ritual phrase is a key part of the egg-knocking contest -- you can't knock eggs without saying it. So I contented myself with muttering "Whatever" afterwards. I mean, otherwise I wouldn't have gotten to knock eggs. There is only so far I am willing to go to defend my principles, and that line lies somewhere between pissing off my wife's entire family (no problem!) and being excluded from egg-knocking night (nooooooo!).

EDIT: My dad pointed out that Jesus and I are mirror-images of each other in the two pictures above. Hilarious.

As if the Resurrection wasn't reason enough to celebrate, today (well, actually tomorrow, but since most of you reading this are on the other side of the International Date Line what's the difference?) is great-grandma Negru's birthday. So after a giant Easter meal and more cozonac, we had cake!

Here is the totally awesome picture I snapped after accidentally missing the moment when great-grandma blew out the candles, and Io realized that I had missed it:

We finished up the afternoon by all watching a photo-slideshow of family pictures that Gagi had put together. It was pretty nice, and I got to see lots of older pictures showing everyone when they were younger.

So there you go. Goat was eaten, eggs were knocked, and thus Christ's excruciating death was celebrated. Everyone had a good time. Even Gabriel only screamed through about half of it. All in all, a fine Easter.

Moment of Zen:

* Except vegetables or goat organs.

And Takes Half Damage

Easter is by far the biggest holiday in Romania. This town is going positively ape-shit with Easter preparations. It's like Christmas in Union-Made Planet Earth High Place 53 Only In Downtown LA, only worse. The local church has set up bleachers across the street for the overflow crowds. At right is a photograph of the line to get to the bakery at Auchan. All of these people want to buy cozonac, the traditional Romanian easter bread.

Although the stores are jam-packed, you can't really do any other business this week because lots of people take time off work to prepare for the holiday. You're supposed to have a scrupulously clean house for Easter.

Tania and Gagi are having people over for the holiday, so it's been a somewhat madcap series of preparations here. They bought an entire goat which they butchered themselves using knives and a hatchet (remind me never to upset my mother-in-law. You would never even find the body). The organs go into soup and other dishes that I will be avoiding like they were poisoned, and the meat gets cooked and served.

An entire punchbowl filled with hard-boiled eggs

The weather's been pretty gorgeous this week, and the trees have coats of leaves and flowers which really makes the city look a lot nicer. The streets are usually filled with people out for walks and kids playing. There aren't any soccer fields nearby, so everyone kicks their soccer balls around the street, which also double as parking lots. There's simply no room, so the kids just kick the ball WHAM into the cars when someone misses a pass. Nobody seems to care.

Mass hysteria

Gabriel has not let all this distract him from his dedicated program of crying. At least it provides some stability in my life. I keep trying to explain to him that that duty runs the other way, but he is impervious to logic.

I am taking a crash course on Romanian Easter traditions so that I at least have some idea what is going on tomorrow. Expect pictures!

Moment of Zen:

215 To Go

We are past the first month, which everyone says is the hardest. I hope so. It's gotten to the point that Gabriel will finally fall asleep at 4 a.m., and then wake up at 4:30 screaming for food. I look at the clock and go, "Well, that's a half-hour closer to when he leaves for college." Our whole life has become a multiple-axis countdown: every day is one day closer to Io and Gabe coming home to Los Angeles, and one day closer to Gabe not being a crazy screaming demon. Hopefully.

Because when he's not screaming his head off, Gabe is the most awesome thing ever. And to be honest, even when he is his awesomeness is second only to the non-screaming version of him.

We've been taking him out for Foxy Strolls and trying to enjoy some of the spring weather. The streets and parks are getting packed with people, because there's not a lot to do here if you're a Romanian child other than kick a soccer ball around the street or go play at the playground. This is not a land replete with XBoxes and 500 cable channels. We've stopped in at the market, at Grandma Gomiou's, and the park, all of which Gabriel slept through.

Io wanted an "action shot"

Earlier this week I cooked a dish that can only be described as "fried stew." My brother, who is currently in culinary school learning to be a cordon bleu chef, insists that frying and stewing are two different cooking methods and one dish can't be both. To which I say: shut it, Frenchie. When I want a recipe for a big helping of Surrender Pie, I'll call you. Until then, you can take your fancy book-learnin' and stuff it where the fleur de lis don't shine. Take your damn metric system back while you're at it.

We had our one-month well-baby doctor's appointment this week. Actually, we had it twice, because we're still checking out different pediatricians. Both of them gave Gabe a perfect bill of health. He's putting on weight well, not sick, everything is going swimmingly from their perspective. "But doctor," we said, "he's up all hours, throws up 80% of the milk he drinks, cries for no appreciable reason all the time, and gets hiccups constantly." "Right," the doctors tell us. "He's a baby."

Before I post today's Moment of Zen, let me say this: I know a lot of you are probably going, WTF, this is just a bunch of pictures of Gabe lying on a blanket. I know. Understand that I have a mother who absolutely cannot function without a constant supply of new baby pictures. She is going to be here in like a month, and I will feel her wrath if I am judged wanting.

And now, your Moment of Zen:

The Things I Do For Love

Tomorrow Gabriel will be one month old. And what a month it's been. I think I've slept about six hours during that month, for one thing.

Life is continuing to adapt to the rule of the Mad King, though. We've got our baby-plus-ESL routine pretty well down at this point, with lots of "Baby needs burping! Tag me out!" action. If anything, I think he adds an extra attraction for some of our students. We should start charging more.

We took Baron Bigeyes von Chickenlegs out on an exciting adventure yesterday, out to see Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa Negru in their natural habitat, their house in Rahova. I still love that house. It's barely a house at all, really, just two rooms and an entry area, plus a set of large outbuildings. Half the purpose of the buildings is just to enclose the family plot, which is the main point of the place. The grapevines are bare at this point, and because Great-Grandma and Great-Grandpa are each about five feet tall, it's strung with deadly wires at neck-level. The house and the outbuildings are filled with all sorts of old junk -- three rotary telephones, a vacuum-tube radio, a 1970's rack stereo system, etc. -- that are pretty fun to look through. Everyone got some major family time and Gabriel time in:

We picked some herbs in Great-Grandma Negru's garden

Ioana covering AC/DC's Highway to Hell with Gabriel covering the role of guitar

Tania told me she planted the tree we're standing next to as a seed, ten years ago. She grew it in a pot in her condo in the bloc, and when it was too big moved it out and replanted it at the Negru place. Now it's got to be close to 20 feet high.

Note deadly neck wires.

All in all, a very successful visit that was enjoyed by everyone, including Gabriel. We spent many hours out in the yard chatting with each other and enjoying the sunshine. We got some herbs and eight farm-fresh eggs from their chickens, and dropped off empty plastic bottles and other supplies they needed. Great-grandma and great-grandpa were very happy to see us. We're going to try and go more often, even though moving Gabriel is a logistical challenge on par with launching the space shuttle.

Yesterday was Palm Sunday on the Romanian Orthodox calendar, same as the western Christian one. Instead of palms, though, Romanians carry willow branches. Apparently they still call it Palm Sunday, though. Don't ask me. The churches were packed. I've written before that Romania is a deeply religious country -- much more so than most places in the U.S., and Bucharest is way more religious than American big cities. The local church in Titan (Io's neighborhood) is always packed full for services, with a large overflow crowd standing in the churchyard listening to stereo speakers mounted on the church. I don't mean just for the big weekend services, I mean every day. You go by there at 6pm on a Wednesday and it will be SRO in the church and crowds outside, even if it's minus 100 meters Celsius out. For Palm Sunday, the church was packed, the front and rear yards were packed, and there were lines of people wrapped around the property fence waiting to get in. Craziness. I should have taken a picture, but we were driving by and I didn't get the camera on in time. So: kitties for everyone!

Today is the first day that coming to Romania really hurts. While I've been here, the Bears reached the NFC Championship and the Super Bowl was played, but I managed to see both of them on live TV. Two movies I was looking forward to came out (Battle of Los Angeles and Atlas Shrugged Part I), which I couldn't see, but both of them were apparently disastrously awful so in those cases coming to Romania saved me $30. Or negative $1,170 when you figure in the airfare.

Yesterday (which is today in the metric system) was the premiere of A Game of Thrones, the HBO adaptation of my second-favorite novel of all time, after Atlas Shrugged Part II: Shrug Harder. Savvy readers of One Man's Search for Dracula may have recognized quotes from the book as three of the post titles, including today's, which puts author George Martin in the same room as Shakespeare and the Beatles.

I've been following the development of the show on the web, and it looks amazing. I'll pick it up on DVD when it comes out, and if I'm lucky someone in LA is DVRing it for me so I can catch up with it in July. But I sure wish I could be watching it now.

"Tolkein made the wrong choice when he brought Gandalf back. Screw Gandalf. He had a great death and the characters should have had to go on without him."

-- George Martin

"Death is so terribly final."

-- Tyrion Lannister

Moment of Zen: