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Our second story apartment in Cluj-Napoca.


Fall 2002:

With another year, courtesy of Fulbright and IREX grants, we knew we had a lot to accomplish, and we wanted a base that had more creature comforts than our village home of 1999-2000

Through the internet, we were fortunate to hook up with an outgoing Fulbright grantee, and we took over her palatial uptown apartment.

The landlady keeps a fine and fragrant set of gardens.

   

   

The landlord built the house intending for his children to inhabit the upstairs. But with his pension loosing its value, he's opened it to renters.

The spaciousness was apparent from our first step into the hallway.

   

   

   

Far from lacking running water, our new digs have fine porcelain fixtures. 

   

Though preparing for a bath means visiting the Myst-like machinery room where we must fiddle the knobs to direct boiler water into the water reservoir.

It adds a sort of adventurous routine to our daily life. 

  

  

   

Built in the 1970's, our apartment is full of light and airy rooms. 

   

   

   

    

  

   

The furniture is solid and warm.

   

   

   

   

   

 

     

Kathleen has an entire spare room for use as her photography equipment warehouse and studio.

  

   

All our furniture and appliances didn't mean we had no need to buy new doo-dads for the sink and power outlets in order to plug in those Western gadgets that made our baggage bulge. 

   

   

   

   

   

  

After a month of moving furniture, the main living room has become our bright and warm center for study, relaxation and entertainment. 

  

   

One day I looked up from a book to see the gleam of "Rome Prize 2003" reflecting in Kathleen's glasses. Keep checking this space to see if we end up there next year... 

   

   

   

   

   

No survey of our living quarters would be complete without talk of food. 

   

   

   

 

     

Scaled to match the size of all our other rooms, we have a huge pantry. 

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

As the fall wears on, we're stocking up on local preserves, from traditional eggplant and bean pate called "zacusca" to jams made by our favorite grandmothers back in the village. 

   

   

Few family homes in Romania are complete without some element of agriculture. Ours is no exception. 

On one of our three balconies, we have a bountiful grapevine. 

   

The landlord promised to help us make wine.

  

   

   

   

Ion has all the gear needed, from the grape grinder, that takes the place of staining one's feet crushing grapes, 

  

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

to the wood and steel press,

  

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

into which we placed our succulent harvest.

   

  

   

   

   

   

   

   

   

 

   

And from which we received our reward. 

   

Yum!

We like it here too!


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