Hooverville Redux

I'm going to start with the two humping lesbian cows and end with the constant, pouring rain. The chronological order of our camping trip with the Day Center doesn't really matter because it was all ridiculous, and it all had the same result. I quickly realized that God's lesson for me last week was about my attitude - that's not to say I've been surrounded by perfection when it comes to the general attitude we have going on here, but more that in my desire to be realistic about a given situation, I often lose my ability to be encouraging. 

Pre Hooverville

I was immediately immersed in the up-to-date situation regarding the camping trip when I got picked up from the airport Sunday night. I returned to our apartment feeling overwhelmed instead of at peace with the situation, which, to my irritation, had crumbled during my absence. I spent the night unpacking and repacking, trying to wrap my mind around leaving for a camping trip I wasn't comfortable going on. Monday morning came too soon but Alannah and I felt ready for the week ahead and we embarked on what is easily the most bizarre week I have ever had.

Before we even got outside Timisoara city limits we had to make two store stops, switch vans, hit the market and check the Day Center for the missing pork grinds (go figure). Turns out, the rest of the guys were camping outside Iabalcea. Just the mention of Iosif's camp made me feel more at ease about the week ahead... until we pulled up outside. As I walked through the gate at Iosif's camp I was flooded with memories of summers passed - I stood to cry while looking at the handprints the kids made three years ago with the Pouncey's. My sense of peace crumbled while I stood there composing myself in the rain. We reassembled the troops and drove to a new campsite just outside of a town called Anina and were greeted by several grazing cows humping each other... all female. Later in the week, these same cows tried to bum rush our tents.

cow herd

The trip started on a low note. Maybe two hours in and Paul, the 25-year-old psychologist who works with the people at the Day Center came to find me while I was venturing to make my first drop off in the woods to tell me that Alannah and I were dressed inappropriately. "You may stimulate the men this way, do not misunderstand me," apparently in our offended facial expressions Paul thought he would explain to us how we're from a different culture and while in the States four layers of sweats and gym shorts are appropriate, in Romania this type of clothing is sure to give homeless men their jollies. I wanted to tell this guy that I'm not sure what world he's living in, but in the real world, guys who live on the streets have seen a lot worse than the small of an American girls' back between a hoodie and sweatpants while camping. Besides, I figured we owed these guys some credit. Anyway, turns out Paul was one giant chauvinist and we had many similar occurrences during our stay in the cow pasture.

Alannah babushka

It poured most of Monday, all through the night and in to Tuesday. Alannah and I quickly discovered that despite the size of our tent, it leaked from the bottom up. I know, it doesn't make sense, but you try waking up to puddles underneath your backpack, sleeping bag, clothes etc and explain it better.

It rained most of Tuesday, and I was really beginning to feel useless until the rain stopped and thanks to Paul's prodding, we sang for the guys. Tuesday night felt like a blessing next to the rain-soaked tent and uneventful afternoon spent staring blankly inside the tent. We were able to hear Ghita's story - at 26-years-old, he's a violent alcoholic with deep cut marks all over his body. But, like so many of the people I've had the opportunity to meet in this country, Ghita is a jack of all trades. There wasn't one moment during our week where I sensed any kind of withdrawal or anger on his part, it was as if he had no addiction problem at all.

cascada

Wednesday we were lucky enough to have a rain free afternoon, so we decided to hike to a "waterfall". The waterfall turned out to be a giant mushroom-shaped, moss-covered rock with water trickling down it, but we couldn't get mad at Zoli for trying to get us out of the tent. Zoli is easily the reason we were able to make it through the week relatively unscathed - he is a true man of God. We spent the afternoon at the waterfall, discovered a cave and then embarked on our seven kilometer walk back to the camp site just in time for the heavens to open up and again pour down on us. What a treat.

Despite what I would say were a lot of obstacles, each evening really made me feel like God had us on the trip for a reason. It was almost as if each night by the camp fire washed away the frustration of the day. By the end of the week I felt like even though I'd started with a bad attitude I at least had lent the men on the trip my voice - a gift that I'm too often afraid to share with others. 

everyone on the last day

The camping trip, which started out as a disaster, ended up being easily the most memorable time I've spent since we arrived in July. I always think it's funny the way we fight against things we don't want to do, but God just always seems to know what's best even when we think we know better. This week was certainly an unexpected surprise.