Rome and the GRE

Salute -
The smell of budding spring air is teasing us here in Moldova. The dirt roads have transformed from frozen, slick, albeit clean paths, and have become mucky with standing water. The first spring flowers, a small blue variant similar to a Lily of the Valley have arrived as well. We do not change our clocks for another three weeks, so until then I am one hour closer to you all.
My trip through Bucharest for the GRE, and on to Rome was fantastic. Two trains, two busses, and a plane were needed for me to reach the city centre, but it was worth every mile, kilometer, and minute! The GRE test centre was located just a short walk from the hostel where I had bed for the two nights preceding the exam. I was able to arrive to Bucharest, become acclimated by visiting the test centre a day early, and had plenty of time for some relaxed final review. After the test I was able to find another traveler at the hostel to grab a celebratory beer.
We lucked out in Rome and stayed a stones throw from the Piazza Victoria. Courtland and Edie researched and then cross-referenced a few wine bars which resulted in gastronomic winners in my book. We also were lucky, as if luck is needed in Rome, to stumble on some great other eateries and if I am correct at least five of the ubiquitous Irish pubs that infest Europe’s capital cities. I will give Edie the credit with the best gastronomic pick; a restaurant named Piperno hidden in a small square of the Ghetto that has a Jewish heritage and a history spanning a century and a half. My lamb was more than noteworthy.
On the train from Bucharest to Chişinău my cabin-mate was a creepy, ironically American and former GM employee, that had come to Eastern Europe six years ago to find a wife. I am sure you can imagine the stereotype. This is the same stereotype that every border officer thinks about as they look at the absconded countries that I seem to travel through so often. The rub is that while he and I both passed with a baleful stare, I am benign and the other much more sinister.
The gauge of the rails in the former Soviet Union was different than that of Europe so that in the case of war the invading armies would not be able to use the respective country’s rail transport. On my train from Romania to Chişinău, because Romania was never actually a constituent of the USSR and Moldova was a full blown member, the rail gauges differ. Nearly half way through the night train at the Moldovan border the wheels of each individual train car were exchanged for the proper gauge size. It was a spectacle to hear, feel, and experience during the hour ordeal as the Moldovan border guards with large brimmed held-over soviet hats check and double check my passport and residency permits.his train
**** To give you a mental picture of the age of ttake the fact that the cars are still being heated with coal fire!


Life in the village is nice. English group starts again with a few of my usual students that frequent my projects. My leadership group is still also going very well too. The only problem is motivating the students to update a website when most the students still do not have internet access at home. (One student has started his own blog after watching my tutorial though!)
I am off to Turkey next week! It should be great. If you haven’t been, Turkey provides a beautiful mix of Mediterranean and Middle Eastern food. Think … Greece meets Lebanon.
Thanks for reading! I figure with only about 1.5 posts per month I have only approximately 11.5 posts left before I am through with service!
-AM