New Blog

I have decided to start a new blog. This one I think has served its purpose, and it is time to start fresh.

The new blog is called Tales from the Edge, and is going to focus on my writing, and (hopefully) publishing. It can be found here. Come on over and check it out!

For the TIme Being

It's embarrassing to say so, but once I arrived in Taiwan, and was with my family and (surprise!) a new puppy, and going through jet leg, and then off to the beaches for a holiday, I pretty much forgot about this blog. It wasn't until I was back in Canada and someone asked me if I was going to post anymore that I remembered it. And since then it's been several months until this.

So.....

I am back in Canada. For the time being I am done with traveling, and am for once enjoying all my classes at university, and I'm getting back into the swing of things at church and in my residence and catching up with friends. And along with all that I have given up blogging. And even though this goodbye is long overdue, I figure if there are anyone still reading, I owe them a bit of an explanation.

There are a number of reasons, the first being that the original purpose of the blog was to be a travel log, and I am no longer traveling. Actually, being an MK/TCK, it is hard to tell sometimes when you're traveling and when you're 'home'. As a good friend put it, our hometown is 'unknown'. But in any case I'm staying put to study, and I typically sleep in the same bed every night, so I will declare myself to be 'home'. I do have plans for future travels and future blogs, whether here or elsewhere, but that is for then, not now. I have also thought of blogging about life as a student and about matters that interest me, but to be honest, I'm not interested in doing that. Part of it is a matter of time - even without the blog I feel pressed for time to get all my other work done. Part of it is feeling that I already spend way too much time online, and so I'm trying to wean myself of the 'net. And part of it is I'm quite happy at the moment keeping my thoughts to myself, or in sharing them with friends in face to face or e-mail/skype conversations. Since I have those modes of communication available, why blog?

So there you have it. This blog is officially over, for the time being. If I ever hit the road again, and I remember this blog, I might restart it, or make a note about a new blog, but until then, God bless, and thanks for reading.

Martyrs, Kids, and Stats

Many thanks to the Handmaid Leah and to Fr. Stephen Freeman for reminding me of this post from the Handmaid. It is about three monks from the Optina monastery in Russia who, in 1993 at Easter, where murdered, or martyred, by a Satanist. Tragic that it happened, but at the same time it is fascinating to read what happened, and the lives of these martyrs, and of how God was still, at least in hindsight, clearly present in this situation, and in the monk's lives leading up to their deaths. It is also an interesting view of life in Russia at that time, and during the Cummunist regime from the sixtie's onward. I highly recommend it, and you can find it here.

But in case you think that I am spending way too much time dwelling on monks and martyrdom, I'll also point out World Vision and their child sponsorship program. As of writing this, there are, at least on the Canadian World Vision website, 1809 kids to be sponsors, of which 1356 are boys, and 453 are girls. I have my guesses, but I really have no idea why there are so many more boys that need to be sponsored than girls (though I would love to know), but there you have it. They range in age from one to I think fourteen. Now I know that most, if not all readers of this blog are poor like me so I am not asking anyone to sponsor a kid. Just say a prayer for them that God will somehow provide, and keep praying for them as you remember. I figure that that is the least, and perhaps the most that we can do right now.

I also recently found an interesting report by the Fraser Institute of Canada about generosity regarding supporting charities in Canada and the United States. It basically looks at tax returns and how many people give, how much is given, and divides these people up based on province and state. Turns out in 2006 25.4% of Canadians gave about 0.72% of their incomes to charities, or about $1,214 per giver. That does not sound overly bad, though being an affluent country you would think more people would be able to give more. But wait til you hear about Americans. In America, 30.4% donated about 1.67% of their income, or about $4,012 per giver. And Americans don't even have free health care. Frankly, I am a little disappointed with Canadians. Here I am trying to at least mildly patriotic, and then those Americans come and steal the show. I mean, what is wrong with Canadians? We certainly have enough money lying around. I don't know that is wrong with Canadians, but I am sure that if just another percentage of Canadians gave the national average, or even a little less, World Vision would be running out of kids that need sponsoring. So come on Canadians! Wake up and smell the world.

Moving On, Moving On...

So it is that time of the year again. I finished my last exam this morning. Last week I got my visa for Taiwan. I've started saying goodbye to folks, and now all I need to do is finish packing and cleaning, and on Saterday after Divine Liturgy I will get on the train to the airport. And then I will fly home to Taiwan for the summer, which I am very excited about. Though at the same time it has been so long since I have been home that it does not quite seem real that I will actually, finally, in about sixty hours, be face to face with my parents and siblings.

So yes, I am leaving England. Which is a shame because there is so much I still want to see, and people I have come to love as good friends, but I guess there is always my perhaps mythical cycling trip to set all that aright one day. And I do want to see my family. And painful as the thought sometimes is, I think it is right for me to after the summer to return to Canada. I mean, legally I am obliged to return to UBC for at least one year, but even if that wasn't the case, I think I probably would still return to Canada. It is time to attempt, Lord willing, to set down some roots.

So on that note, I would appreciate any and all prayers for safe travels over the weekend. And prayers also for the weather tomorrow night, as the CU has planned a massive, evangelistic party by the pond. Today it was raining quite heavily, and while it is still blustery, at least the rain has stopped for the time being. So prayers for sun and fun would be appreciated, as last I heard there is no back-up plan. God bless you all.

Entering Sweden the Hard Way

So I arrive at the Arlanda Airport in Sweden expecting to sweep right on through passport control. Maybe, I thought, with a name like Ullstrom I'd even be welcomed home as a long lost relative. Instead, I get my luggage searched. The officer at the passport desk was literally scratching his head trying to figure out why I had come to Sweden from England via Romania and Budapest. He seriously asked, "Why didn't you come straight to Sweden?" I was like, "I'm sure Sweden is great, but it isn't the only country in the world worth visiting. Hello, I'm a backpacker? Get a life?" But I didn't actually say that. Instead, I told him I was "visiting a friend" in Romania, which did not satisfy him, and on later thought I realized that 'friend' can have multiple meanings. I was later told by my great-uncle, who I stayed with, that Romania, and all Eastern European countries, are seen as very exotic by Swedes, and that Swedes generally do not go there, so perhaps that was part of the officer's confusion. Anyways, I am sure that travelling alone with a ponytail and gotee did not help my case as well. In the end, the officer stamps my passport and let me though, but on walking through customs I was intersepted by a tall and muscular officer, and was kindly shown into a large, adjacent room with long steel counters where it was just the two of us. The officer was quite nice as he searched my bag, and just asked me a lot of questions. Nor did he ever accuse me of anything, and when he was satisfied that I was legit he wished me a pleasant stay in Sweden. Much better treatment than when I last crossed the USA border, which is the only other border I have been looked at funny. But I was still quite miffed at being searched. I mean, I think that the airport was the only place I could have been searched. Had I entered by train or car, or maybe boat, and if travelling through other parts of Europe is any indication, I would at most been asked for my passport, and that would have been it. Indeed, according to Lonely Planet, most land border crossings between Sweden and Norway and Finland are not regularly staffed, so people can drive freely back and forth. So why target people who chose to arrive by air? Probably because they actually have the facilitices to do something, which they don't have on a train, for example, and probably because they feel they should do something. But if they hope to stop criminal activity or criminals entering with all those other easy entrances, high security at airports is like walling up half a beach to prevent the waves from hitting land.

Anyways, so I arrived, safely, with a different experience under my belt, and got the bus into Stockholm. It was evening when I got to my hostel, and I had had a long day, and not much sleep the night before. So after I got supper and some groceries for lunch and breakfast the next day, I went to sleep. Thankfully this hostel, though it had 16 beds to the room, actually had and enforced a light's out policy, and so it was actually quiet by 11pm. I was very impressed, and would recommend that hostel at anyone. I spent the next few day sightseeing, and saw some of the museums. Stockholm is built on many small islands, so it is very beautiful in that regard. The architecture, at least where I was, was also very beautiful in a very quiet, unpretentious, mellow sense. Anyways, I am writing this late at night, and am getting really tired, so I'll post some pictures and will write more later. Good night.


I really like this picture, though it is not quite the picture I wanted. I walked into this square near the water, and saw these fancy dressed soldiers piling out of an ordinary tour bus. I don't know where they came from, or if that is normal military transportation in Sweden, but I thought it was quite the odd and hilarious sight. Unfortunantly, they all got out before I could get my camera out, but I got this picture of this just milling around, looking like ordinary humans instead of at-attention soldiers.

This statue seemed to be somehow really iconic, though I am not sure what it is supposed to be saying. I thought it was embracing and claiming all of Stockholm, glorying itself in all its riches. Interestingly, right behind it is an empty pool, and the statue could be seen as falling backwards into this empty pool, or in other words, into nothingness, or even destruction. So so much for glory. I think I was a bit too existential that day.

This man was here everyday day, right beside the royal palace and parliament, fishing with his big net for really small fish. I assume they are herring? I was really fascinated by him.

More Cycling - First Long(ish) trip

Last Friday was a beautiful day, so I set off for a four and a half hour ride through Bowland Trough, which runs through Bowland Forest, and then down and around the southern end of Bowland Forest and back to the university. Bowland Forest is a sort of national park right beside the university, and it was a beautiful ride. My only comment about the forest is that the British understanding of forest must be very different from the Canadian understanding, because in this forest I rarely saw trees. It was all fields and moors and hills and tough sheep munching around. But that quibble aside, it was a great day. My rough estimate is that I cycled about 50 km, and for the last 15 km or so I was struggle up some of the hills. And this was without any loaded panniers. A bit of a reality check for that around the world tour I dream of, though if I do do that tour I would of course get into much better shape. Oh well, thats for another day. Until then, this was my longest bike ride to date, and I am very pleased with it. Enjoy the pictures.


These trees, along this stream in the Trough, were pretty much the only trees I saw in Bowland Forest. Beautiful spot, though hardly a 'forest', in my mind.


This is more what Bowland Forest looks like. Much more desolate.

I surprised these lambs coming around a corner. They were grazing on the wrong side of the fence, and when they saw me they stampeded down the road before trying to ram themselves through a wire fence, which of course failed. By then, I had cycled past, and they turned and started running back up the road. So I ran after them to get the picture.


Heading back north again, I crested a hill, stopped for a breather, and eventually noticed these small planes or gliders doing circles high in the air in front of me. Then one of them flew right over me so I got a great picture, and then it turned and landed in a field in the valley. I later cycled past that field and learned that it was the Bowland Forest Gliding Club. Looks like a lot of fun, and I'm really glad I got to see them flying.

Studying and Cycling

I am sorry I haven't been posting recently. My excuse is that I have had exams to study for, but now my next exam is in two weeks so I have some breathing room. To take breaks from studying I have been cycling in the hills around my university. It is so much fun, and I am now longing to go on a longer, 4-5 hour trip through the hills. Hopefully in the next couple days if the weather holds. Here are some pictures from the ride I took this afternoon. Enjoy.







This last picture is a very poor picture of my university. But at least you can see where I live. It is near the top of that brown tower, which is the only tall building for miles.

Whoa!

Quieter Moments

Letter to PM Harper

I got wind today that World Vision is asking people to send an e-mail to Prime Minister Stephen Harper. The purpose being to urge him to honor his promises made to help towards universal access to AIDS and HIV treatment, particular towards ending the transmission of HIV from mother to child. I am cynical about the government, but sending a letter doesn't hurt. Here's the link to the World Vision site with all the information. It is actually very easy.

Cheers.

In Ten Years? Ramblings on the Future of Surveillance and Chemical Castration

First read this. Specifically the first part, titled "Becoming a Surveillance Society?" It is only a couple of paragraphs.

The source, as you'll notice, is the Howard Journal of Criminal Justice. I was poking around the recent issues today doing research for my criminology essay due friday. Basically, I didn't like what I read. The worst innovation, I thought, was the one in which parents will be able to access online their children's grades, and drug tests, and diet, and so on. I mean, why not instead encourage deeper and closer relationships between parents and children, in which this kind of information could be freely discussed without an intermediary? Or wait, I forget, it this because parents and children are each supposed to have their own unique and fulfilling lives that they don't really, or aren't supposed to have time for each other? Is the parent-child relationship simply becoming another consumer product, with the parents having the option to parent from online when convienient? (Naughty boy! I'll e-mail him a frowny face, and a couple of electric shocks via his ankle bracelet. That'll teach him.) And I suppose the kids are assumed to be simply too busy as well hanging out to have any time for the parents.

Or is there the assumption that communicating families don't actually exist, and have never existed, and so this development is normal. Or worse yet, the acknowledgement that yes, perhaps parent-child relationships in many families are not that great, but no, there is no way to make them better, so lets make the best of a bad situation. Apathy, that is what it is called. And I am sure that the companies who would develop such networks will profit greatly.

Yes, I am cynical and probably over-reacting. But still, I don't like the ideology behind all of this. It is saying that people have the right to the easiest life possible, while it is really a sugar-coated pill to allow the state to monitor everything. It is already bad enough here in England, which if I recall has the most CCTV cameras (security cameras) out of anywhere in the world. I never know here when I am being filmed, though I usually assume that I am when I am out and about. At least that is what the government would have us believe, all in the name of crime prevention and detection. And so no, I am not thrilled at the idea of having my car trackable through GPS, or at having my walls and clothes contain sensors. I would like to maintain the freedom and the right to be anonymous, thank you very much. If someone really wants to kill me, I don't think anyone can stop them, no matter how many people are watching via camera or sensor.

These proposals also bring up the issue of rich countries versus poor countries, or better yet, rich continents versus poor continents. Because I can only see this happening in places like North America, (Western) Europe, and some of the richer Asian countries. I don't think that the rest of the world has the infrastructure or the stability to support this kind of survellience, though I am sure that all e-mails and phone calls everywhere are already being monitors. Still, assuming that the West is the norm, as us in the West like to assume, then this could create an even bigger gap between the poor and the rich countries. Africa could turn into darkest Africa again, not because it would be impossible to travel there, but because on the monitoring computer screens, Africa would be a big blank. Just think, all those Africans, and WE DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY ARE DOING! AHHHH! TERRORIST ALERT! TERRORIST ALERT! SEND IN THE ARMY! Okay, okay, I'll calm down. Still, I hope you get my point. And this would not just be a gap between the rich and poor nations, but even between the rich and poor people within the West. Namely, the rich would be able to get out of the surveillence net, whereas the poor wouldn't hvae the resources to do so, and so would most likely end up the big victims. I mean, they are the undeserving poor, right? Source of all our social and moral problems? You'd think the least they could do is leave us, the upright and noble and self-reliant, in peace. They deserve to be victims. Not.

What I dislike most, though, is the idea that we need all of these electronic intermediaries in order to live a good, and supposedly, pleasure and ease filled life. What happened to human interaction? Why do we need all these anonymous, heartless, electronic beeps and blips to live our lives for us? For example, take apprehending a criminal suspect. With the capability to monitor and track everyone, and I do think we have this capability, even if it is not quite actualized, all the police have to do is locate their target via their laptop, and then quietly make the arrest. No one will know about the arrest, nor does anyone probably care. The police won't have to do the messy business of actually talking to witnesses, and other leg work. All human interaction is potential removed. And imagine that this is done in every area of our lives so that (ideally?) we only interact in person with people when we want choose, and only for pleasure. Because all the messy, labour-intensive, face to face tasks can all be done through beeps and bytes.

But I do think we need at the face to face interaction, if for no other reason than to remind us that we are human. We are not machines, nor should are lives be run as if we are machines. Don't get me wrong - I am not all anti-technology. My family and friends is far-flung, and so I use e-mail and skype and this blog even to communicate to those I love, and I am very glad for this technology. But I don't want it to dominate my life. When I am back with my family, I sincerely hope that I won't need to use e-mail and skype to communicate with them, but that we can instead sit down and interact like humans are supposed to interact, face to face. This move towards creating electronic intermediaries for everything we do is scary. Some of it is helpful, but we don't need it all, and not all the time. We need the freedom to be more than just numbers on a database, and blips on the radar. We need to be human as well, with skin and bones and blood and emotions and physical interaction. We need to be able to truly live.

That is all I'll say about that. I have an essay to write for friday, and need to get on with that. It is a criminology one, and while rooting through that Howard Journal of Criminal Justice, I found an article I'll use as a focal point of my essay. It's on chemical castration as an option for dealing with high-risk sex offenders. The basic argument is 1) Currently sex offender programs are not working for high risk sex offenders, and 2) the only program in England that has worked was shut down in 2002, and there are no plans to re-start it, so 3) let's explore new options like...Castration! Actually, castration isn't a new option, but has been happening for hundreds of years, so we are told, thus legitimizing it (see, Mommy, it's traditional). But then they mention that it was quite popular with the Nazi's, which rings some alarms in my mind, but then I am assured that other Western European nations have used it as well, even in recent years, so it has to be okay. Apparently in Western Germany before 1989 high risk sex offenders had the choice between castration or prison, and some did choose surgical castration. The article also mentions that chemical castration (which isn't permanant unless the drugs are kept up) is a lot cheaper than prison, and presumably also those other programs, so that also makes it a much better option. Oh, and castration almost always works in stopping repeat offending. And to make it sound better, (I mean, castration has too many negative connotations), the author even proposed some new, scientific and sterile sounding names. And of course being the generous, liberal society that we are, all sex offenders would of course be given the choice of whether or not they want to be castrated. I am just afraid that the other choice would be prison, with indefinate sentences. What a choice. Honestly, learning about today's world, I sometimes wonder if I have mistakenly woken up in la-la land. La-la land with the boogie monster.

Memory Eternal

My second day in Romania I made my first trip to Pisculesti (pronounced Pisculest - final single i's are always silent), which is a small village where Fr. Bogdan has his parish. It was a Thursday afternoon, and Fr., along with Fr. John, the priest from the village a kilometer down the road, had a funeral to do. The deceased was an elderly lady in Fr. Bogdan's parish who had died from cancer.

It was only my third funeral I had ever been to, and the first time I had in person seen a dead body. But I didn't think she looked terribly dead. She just looked like a small, elderly, be-wrinkled lady who didn't move the entire time, and then she disappeared into the earth. She looked so life-like I kept expecting her to get up and climb off the bier, though she never did.

Fr. Bogdan wanted me to take a lot of pictures so that I would have a record of an Orthodox funeral. Actually, he wanted me to take pictures of everything in Romania, and he got me permission to do so, though I still felt odd at times taking pictures in the middle of services. I was also really unsure about taking pictures of the funeral, because I was afraid I would be intruding on the mourners, but Fr. kept prompting me, so I did take some, and no one seemed to mind too much.

The first part of the funeral took place at the house of the family where the lady was lying on her bier on the bed in the bedroom. I didn't realize the funeral would start here, and by the time I realized where we were going I had already left my camera in the church, so no pictures. At the house, which was very small, some of the family was inside with the body grieving, and there was a small crowd of people outside the front door waiting. They made way for us, the two priests, their cantors, and me, to enter, and then squeezed in behind us. Prayers were read over the body, hymns where sung, and incence swung as we remembered the departed. Then it was time to leave for the church. The house being small, the bier was passed out through the window of the bedroom and placed on a horse-drawn cart, which we all then followed back to the church. Every so often along the way we would stop, and more incense and a short pray would be given before we continued on. Once at the church, the bier was placed inside the church on what looked to be a metal bed-frame, which had holes all around for candles. Candles where placed within, as well as in the hand of the lady. An icon of Christ was placed on her, and the church part of the service began.






Inside the church were a lot more prayers, hymns, and incense. Unfortunantly, as I have said, I don't speak Romanian, so I am afraid that these descriptions of services will sound a bit repetitive, ie lots of incence, prayers, and hymns. That's basically any Orthodox services, done over and over again, just with different words. Anyways, it was a very beautiful service. Fr. Bogdan later told me that in Orthodoxy, everyone, from the pauper to the king, are treated as kings and queens when they die. They all get the same funeral, and the service is done as beautifully as possible. As you can see from the pictures about, the lady was surrounded by candles, and Fr. walked around her many times censing her and praying. In the picture below is Fr.'s cantor, Nageekeh (sp? Anyways, it is like the Romanian version of Georgie). The next picture is of those present saying goodbye. The last picture is something I can't quite remember the purpose of (any Orthodox readers care to enlighten me?) Basically, it is a basket of food typically eaten at funerals in Romania (one of which are home-made pretzels), and everyone who could reach held onto it and bounced it up and down while singing a hymn, I think in memory of the departed. The same this is done at every memorial service I went to; not just at the funeral.






After the service at the church, the lady was placed back onto the cart, and we set off for the graveyard, which was a kilometer down the road in the next village. Pisculesti has only had its own church for about seven years, and they don't actually have a proper church building yet because it is a poor village and they don't yet have enough money. So they also don't have their own cemetary. I don't know if that is in the plans along with the church building, but until then we were off next door. The first picture is us leaving the church. The grassy area the cart is on is where the future church will be built. Then there is a picture of one of the stops we made for prayers and incense. The next picture is of the priests and the cantors. Fr. Bogdan is on the far left, and Fr. John is the one with the sunglasses. With the censor is Nageekeh, as you probably recognize, and the young man is Fr. John's cantor. The last picture is of the entire procession, with the cross that will be the temporary gravestone out in front. We were just leaving Pisculesti, about the cross the Prahova River, and wind our way around up the hill on the other side.




The cemetary being at the top of the hill, the lady had to be carried up the last bit because it was just a rough concrete track leading up. Once at the grave, there was, you guessed it, more prayers and incense. Fr. Bogdan also poured a bottle of home-made wine over the lady and into the grave, to purify the body (I think that is what he said). Then the top of the coffin was nailed on, and the lady was lowered in, and the men starting burying her. In the picture just above, you see Nageekeh holding a bag. That bag is full of the funeral food, a bag of which is handed out to everyone as they leave. You are also given a glass of wine, and you are supposed to pour a little of it on the ground in honor of the departed, drink it, and say "May God be with him/her." You also are supposed to keep the cup, and you are also given a plate or bowl inside the bag for the food, so I imagine the dinnerware manufacturers do a brick business. Either that, or these dishes are frequently recycled.

One thing that struck me was that there was not much grief, at least not much shown. Perhaps that had to do with the fact that the lady was old, and was sick with cancer, so the death was not unexpected. Fr. Bogdan did tell me that in an area in the north of Romania there is a saying that the people there cry when a baby is born, and laugh when someone dies. The reason being that when a baby is born they know that the kid is in for some hard times, and when a person dies, they know that they are going to heaven, so it is a time for rejoicing. No one else in Romania is apparently that extreme, but perhaps some of that attitude was reflected here, at this funeral.

Memory Eternal.

Why not again...Hristos a inviat!

A major reason to go to Romania was to spend Easter, or Pascha, there, and it is the highlight of the Christian year, so I'll post pictures of that first. The ones above are from near the beginning of the service, I think (it was also most five hours in total starting around midnight, so my memory may be a bit fuzzy on the details). All the lights and candles were snuffed off, and Fr. Bogdan came out with with this single light from which all the other candles that people held were then lit. Then everyone went outside and stood in the entrance to the church, and more prayers were said and incence flew. It was all in Romanian, but it looked about right for an Orthodox service. I reckon that were there are clouds of incence, the clergy have a dress code all to their own, and icons and the cross proliferate, then it has to be Orthodox.

And so the service went on into the morning. I think we were all a bit tired, which was something they planned for. Only two people took communion, which surprised me because this being Pascha I figured everyone would take it. I asked later about that, and Fr. Bogdan said that being a really long, late, tiring service, and the people wanting to be at their best to recieve communion, practically the entire town had received it that morning instead. That would have been one of the few services I didn't make, and now knowing what happened I wish I had been there. Next time, I guess. The people there seem extremely practical when it comes to matters of church, whereas I guess I have a bit more of a romantic view of it all.

After the service it was time to get drunk. At least for me. Not that I make a habit of getting drunk at church, but this was, shall we say, a unique occasion. Within fifteen or twenty minutes I was given by three different people four full glasses of that potent and delicious home-made wine. At five in the morning, on an empty stomach (though we were all digging into hard-boiled eggs and sardines and bread), it was a bit much, and even half way through the third glass I was feeling the effect, though it was then that someone pulled at my arm and I turned to be handed my forth glass, and there wasn't much to do except accept it, toast, and drink. All of this was also making it increasingly hard to decipher the proper Paschal greetings and responces that I was being taught. "Adevarat a inviat!" especially sounded like a tongue twister the first few times I heard it, with all the sounds blending together into one long "Ahhhhhhhh!" "Ahh-ahhh-ahhh?" But I eventually got it, and we toasted and drank and knocked eggs together and ate, and then joyfully went home. Christ was Risen Indeed, and I was so ready for bed when we got home. Except, of course, we had some breakfast and another glass of wine first. Yessiree, I am laughing as I write this, remember that morning. Who would have thought? Who would have thought... I am so going back to Romania. Christ is Risen!

Back in Lancaster

Just a short note to say that I am back in Lancaster. I got back last night from Sweden. It was a long day. So now I am getting back into essays and exams and classes and all that...stuff. I'll also start posting pictures and thoughts of the trip. There was so much to see and hear and do I have food for thought for a long time. Til later, God bless.

Hristos a inviat!

Christ is Risen! Hristos a inviat, minus the accent marks which I do not know how to do, is the Romanian version. The Romanian reply is adevarat a inviat! Indeed, Christ is Risen!

Anyways, so Pascha has come and gone, and I am finally getting around to posting something on the blog. I am also getting ready to leave for the airport in two and a half hours for my 6 am flight (I know it is brutal, but that is the only time avaible). I still have to pack, but that won't take long. Otherwise, I am trying to decide whether I should get a couple hour's sleep, or whether I should stay up and sleep on the plane and at the airport. I'll see. It has been a long day today as I went hiking in the mountains and other fun stuff. Beautiful mountains. with lots of snow on top.

It has been a busy two weeks. Of course there was Pascha, aka Easter, and some of the other services during Holy Week. I have been to many house blessings and memorial services, a funeral, feasts, monestaries. People here drink wine and beer like water, so I have been having a lot of those, especially in Pisculesti, the viliage Fr. Bogdan, my friend, is priest at, where I seem to be constantly being given homemade wine to drink, even during the services because I am the guest. Very good wine, though it can be very strong, and when I am given say three different glasses by three different people within about 20 minutes, ah well, life does get interesting.

More on Romania later. I am afraid it will have to wait until I get back to Lancaster in about two weeks. In the meantime, I'll post this picture I took at a monestary. It was a monestary for women, but we saw this elderly monk shuffling his way to the church, and I snapped a picture. Fr. Bogdan said that he was the spiritual father of the monastery, and we went to get his blessing before he disapperaed. He looked very old and frail. but still seemed quite lively and with a good sense of humor. Anyways, enjoy the picture, and more will follow. God bless.