The Difference a Week Can Make

I am writing this from my new apartment (!)

After a week of many leads, many fallings-through, and much frustration, I found a place within my budget, 15 minutes on foot from school, and got an official lease. I thought this day would never come.

I still feel far from saying that Targu-Mures feels like home, but unpacking my suitcases has been a huge help.

My landlady brought me slippers and homemade honey with my lease while her husband puttered around fixing leaks and making sure I would have heat through the winter. Although he spoke only three words of English (“hello”, and “come see”), he spoke to me kindly and smiled rather than becoming frustrated with the language barrier.

There is a festival in Targu-Mures this weekend, and as I walked to the bank with my papers, I stopped to smell the flowers (and the sausages, and the mulled wines, and and and). I watched artisans paint and carve and taste their creations. I thought about where I was a week ago: tense and nervous, restless without a home and unsure about my place here. And I thought about all of the things that have happened since: new friends invited me out, called me at all hours to tell me about apartment leads they had, and gave me teaching advice. One new friend followed an apartment lead for days, and in the meantime made sure I had food and the Romanian cure for the cold I had come down with–țuică. That apartment didn’t work out, but c’est la vie.

Last night, before my move this afternoon, I couldn’t sleep at all. But I got up this morning and I taught four hours of presentation skills (well, more like three) and packed up all of my stuff and went through a Romanian lease and when I sat down and it was somehow evening already, I realized how much of a difference a week can make.

Now excuse me while I eat an entire pizza in my new home.

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