Non-Formal Education

Let me begin by apologizing for the formatting near the bottom of this post...I can't seem to dispose of those ridiculous gaps. =/

If you had told me a month ago what this Romanian adventure would hold, I would never have believed you. But now, 27 days after landing in Bucharest, I am convinced that this will be the most memorable semester of my college career.

The Retezat Excursion! 

In the past four weeks, I have made myself at home in five locations, learned enough vocabulary to apologize and thank with some proficiency, struggled to conjugate Romanian verbs into a plethora of tenses, spent a week playing, working, learning and laughing with Romanian teenagers at Viata and backpacked the Retezat Mountains. 

These experiences have been shared with a wonderful group of people, some of whom you may know: Northwestern sophomores Zachary “Hank” Hankel, Bryent “Tad” “Scrappy” Slagter, Julie Adams and Calvin College junior Kelly Larsen.

My host home!

As I sit in my host family’s living room at 11:49 on a Sunday morning, typing, reading assignments for tomorrow’s classes and drinking a mug of steaming coffee, I can’t help but smile over the differences I have found between this place and good old Orange City, where the clocks read 3:49 AM and you should all be sleeping.

I live just minutes down the mountain from Kelly’s host family, and from our new homes we have a lovely little jaunt—45 minutes by foot—to and from the Impact building in Lupeni where most of our classes are held. I must admit that I find it somewhat more lovely on the “to” end, when the road leads down-hill, but the view, the company and the moments of silent contemplation I have been afforded while tromping in either direction have been beautiful. 

From my first month here, I have drawn out these gems of wisdom:

1. “No, thank you” is not often accepted as an actual refusal in Romania, and several more offers will inevitably ensue. Be prepared to stand firm in your refusal, or simply to accept.

2. Romania must be home to three-fourths of the world’s canine population; there are dogs everywhere! Feed them and they will follow you indefinitely, gazing up longingly with big, irresistible puppy eyes.

3. Ciorba (Romanian soup) is fantastic! Never miss a chance to eat homemade ciorba.

4. Microwaves are highly superfluous.

5. Gathering plums and apples from the orchard surrounding my host home is the perfect way to spend a sunny fall day.

6. The little orange café by the Lupeni post office (Cafe Mago) serves incredible pastries and espresso…and if I edit my standard route subtly enough, it could potentially be considered “on the way to class. 

7. There is nothing quite as satisfying as falling asleep in six layers of clothing, warming with aching muscles in a chilly tent on the rocky ground of the Retezat Mountains.

8. A simple grin, if used often, can create friendships through language barriers.

9. Verb conjugation can kick my butt in Romanian just as easily as it did in Spanish.

10. Washing the dishes can mean “I love you!” in any language.

11. Dogs like gummy-worms.  Bet you didn't know that! 

12. "Nu Parcati" seems to mean "No Parking"... it is never obeyed.

13. Dryers are not to be taken for granted!

Home, Heart, and Here

Home is where the heart is. That is what they say, but what if your heart is in so many different places that you don't know which one to call home. This is the struggle that I have found in coming to Lupeni. I do believe this statement to be quite true but, for me, there are a lot of questions that go along with it.
First of all what do they mean by “heart”? I don't think that the original person who coined this phrase meant the actual, physical heart that we have in our bodies, although there is something special in knowing that your home is where your physical body is, I will touch on this a little later. But I think we can all agree that the person who first said this meant that your heart is what you love with. Which brings me to my next question.
What do they mean by “where the heart is”? Since we have come to the conclusion that your heart is what you love with the logical answer is “where” must be with what you love. You see love has the power to connect. Every person in the world loves, if a person doesn't then he/she is not human; every person has something they care for. But the problem is you can love many things. You can love certain people, certain animals, certain areas in the world, so people even say they love certain cars. So could your “home” be where a certain car is? Some may disagree with me, but I personally don't think that it can. Does your “home” move with where a certain person moves? If you take that question at the letter of the word, once again I don't think it does. No a home has to have many of the things that you love to be there in order for it to be home. But what happens if some things that you love are in one place and some more things that you love are in another place? Which one of those places are home? Both? Are you allowed to have two homes?
This is where I have found myself almost every day when walking down the streets of Lupeni. My heart has found many things to love in this place, some of them being the scenery, the simplicity, the shops, and most of all the people. But at the same time my heart has many things it loves about Orange City and the same goes for Minnesota (where I originate from). You want to know the tough part about it I love many of the same things in them all. So which one is my home?
Now I will give a shout-out to my brothers in Heemstra and say “Be here now!” What this means is that where-ever I am I should be fully there. Be fully engaged in what is happening in that place and be fully knowledgable in what is happening. So essentially it is saying where my physical heart is that is where my mind and love should be. This isn't that I can't love things from a different area but I should consider the area that I am in to be home.
So I am writing from my new-found home, Lupeni, Romania, to all of you in your prospective homes around the world. I hope that this makes sense and that you are able to get something out of it.


Bryent TAD Slagter



Home in Romania










Home in Orange City










Home in Minnesota

Retazat Backpacking Trip

Last week was the Retazat Backpacking trip in which our class/group trailed on through the Romanian mountain range called Retazat National Park. There were 9 of us total including us 5 students, our 2 American leaders, Alice and Kadie, and our Romanian leaders/guides as well, Ilie and Florine. Straight off from the get go there was a familiar “Lord of the Rings” ring to it, for example at the start of our journey our leaders stopped to pick mushrooms. And then some black riders came riding by... ok so it didn't go that far, but did I mention there were 9 of us, ya. Each of us carried approximately 60ish pounds of backpack which consisted of tents, cooking equip, sleeping bags, clothes etc. To start off this weight felt quite heavy, but as the days went on it felt easier and easier to carry, perhaps because our food was disappearing or perhaps because we were getting stronger, anyway the weight of the backpack wasn't a big deal after a bit. After quite a few hours of hiking (can't remember exactly how long it was), we stopped to make camp outside of an emergency cabana (Romanian for cabin).

Next day was a shorter but steeper hike which led us up and down and back up again to reach our main base camp for the week. At the peak of the hike we stopped to eat at, yet another place which probably fell right out of middle earth, specifically Peter Jackson's rendition of it, particularly his scene of when the warg/wolf/buffalo (Kadie thought they looked like buffalo) thingys fought the Rohanian's as they marched towards Helms Deep. Anywho, the day ended with us being at our base camp, which I was a little disappointed to find that it was able to be reached via car, oh well. Ilie and Florine got special permission to build fires, so we were roasty toasty every night before bedtime. I forgot to mention that I'm too tall for the tent, so nights didn't like me very well, neither did naps.

3^rd day we hiked to the peak of the Retazat Mt. Range which is the 3^rd highest pt in Romania which is just meters short of the highest pt. This hike did not require us to lug our heavy backpacks around so the hike was leisurely and much less strenuous. Discussions occurred, specifically among us students, throughout the hike, which sort of bonded the group without the help of the nightly “Tell us your story” time which was part of the curriculum for the trip. The hike was stocked full of beautiful scenery, including streams, lakes, rock formations, cool little pathways and of course the mountains themselves. At the top of the mountain we spent a wee little time goofing off and trying to make a promotional video for the Romania program, don't really know if we succeeded but hey. This personally was my favorite day.

4^th day was personal day in which each of us students had to find a spot and stay there for 6 hours, oh boy. Ya this day was pretty tough, leastways for me anyhow. I spent the time trying to nap, eating, reading and thinking, as well as viewing some of God's nature of course, including some nature that was quite awkward to see but is probably inappropriate to post in a blog of sorts. If you want the whole story concerning this issue ask me personally some time. The day was long, but it was also peaceful and somewhat relaxing as well, I find it kind of hard to relax when forced into a relaxful position but it wasn't bad. Day ended as every other day does, with the sun going down.

5^th day was the start of our journey home, which was very similar to day 2 of our trip, probably because it was the same path we took on day 2, only backwards this time. We all took a nap at the peak of the hike, which is where wargs, goblins, horses and men probably died in an epic cinematic battle. We hiked back to the same place we camped night 1 and then spent some time at a nearby lake which was really cold but still beautiful. No we didn't go swimming, just dipped our feet and hands in. That night after fire and story time the wind was a howlin and a bustling and everyone hurried to get warm inside a tent. However the mountain rescue team thought that they would be drunk by a fire and sing songs, out of tune and off key, which was hilarious and quite pleasant to listen to. Also that night the tent ate me because the wind told it to and I was really cold and really tired but the tent told me I couldn't sleep, so I didn't, at least for a while.

Last day was a short hike down after we were all packed up. Me and Bryent discussed war and peace as well as leadership the whole way down. Once again our leaders wandered off to gather mushrooms but unfortunately us Americans weren't so lucky this time in partaking of that deliciousness. The day ended with a ride back to Lupeni and some PIZZA!

The end. -Zach

A Protestant Meets Orthodoxy

We just finished our first Eastern Orthodoxy class, and I’m left with a lot of questions. After it ended, Marit and Julie and I immediately headed to one of the cheap little bakeries on Main Street to sit and talk (and eat pastries, yes). I found myself getting really excited as our conversation flowed, so I figured I’d try to chronicle a couple of those thoughts. I have the sneaking suspicion that I’ll look back on this post at the end of the semester and smile fondly at my naïveté, but I’m willing to take that. For now, a few premature thoughts on what it’s like to be a Protestant studying Eastern Orthodoxy.

I would consider myself a Protestant, by the way. And that’s not just because it’s the Christian tradition I’ve grown up in (that’s definitely how I arrived at Protestantism, but it’s not why I remain there). I would prefer—in an act of attempted purity of faith, I suppose—to simply call myself a disciple of Jesus, but I realize that my discipleship is steeped in culture and tradition, so I may as well identify that. I’m a Protestant. (There, I’ve confessed.) :) But there are many things I appreciate about other religious traditions. I have learned about the greatness of God from people who believe differently than I do: through witnessing the spirituality of Buddhism in Vietnam, through admiring the faithfulness of Muslims in Bosnia as their call to prayer rang through Sarajevo from the mosques, through observing Seder with a Jewish friend… I have learned over and over that God is a God who is much bigger than my preconceived notions of Him, and can be known in ways far beyond my limited experiences with Him. And I’m thankful for the diversity of my Christian family—for Catholic brothers and sisters and the strength of their tradition; for the ways they have filled much of history with the Gospel; for the strength of their sacraments and the way those sacraments have sometimes changed the world (I’m thinking of how the Eucharist became a counterpoint against torture during the Pinochet regime in Chile… tangent, sorry). I identify with so many parts of Orthodoxy—its appreciation of beauty and culture and the tangible, physical world; its recognition of the faithful, encouragement of the community, and value of personal piety. There is wealth there, lots of it. There is truth there, lots of it. After all, God is bigger and greater than all I ever knew Him to be.

But I still identify strongly with Protestantism. Though it sometimes has sold itself to political agendas, denominational divisions, and lusting after wealth and power (especially in the West, or America [the only culture from which I can really speak, ‘cause though my mom is Canadian, I grew up in the States]), there is strength in its tradition. I’m painting in really broad strokes, and I know there are lots of exceptions, but in my experience with Protestantism, there is an emphasis on a personal knowledge of God and His Word and a call to daily discipleship that I think is really important. Personally, I appreciate the emphasis on the authority of the Bible for Christian life. I need to be reminded, sometimes, of the harder words that Jesus speaks. I’m all about His promise of life abundant; I love it when He says His yoke is easy and His burden is light. I resonate deeply with the calls to social justice and to environmental stewardship and to grace and forgiveness and pacifism and all the other rather radical, semi-hippy-feeling callings that Jesus gives to His disciples. But when He says He is “the way, the truth, and the life” (and I rejoice!), He follows that with the statement, “and no one comes to the Father except through me.” Honestly, I don’t like that part of His message nearly as much. But in the Protestant churches I’ve grown up in, I’ve been taught how to hold those two things in healthy tension. (Which, in my understanding of its implications for Christian life, means far more emphasis on the grace and love and following of Jesus, and far less about the judgment.) I know that my experiences in the American Protestant Church are, unfortunately, far from the norm. That saddens me. And sometimes infuriates me. But I have to remember that it’s my family—and even if my family is sometimes dysfunctional, it remains my family. There’s hope for grace and redemption even in the most messed-up families.

All of that leads me to my point. (Ah, you’re probably sighing. She has a point? I do! Hold on just a little bit longer!) I’m a self-proclaimed Protestant. But I think we have much to learn from the Orthodox church. In just one class, a few of those things became apparent to me, so I’m going to put them out there for any other Protestants who are curious to learn more from our brothers and sisters in the faith. Ready? Here we go.

First, as Dana explained today, Orthodoxy emphasizes that we can’t have right belief without right action. It’s like 1 Corinthians 13 says—if I do all sorts of good works and know everything about everything (OK, it’s a Kelly paraphrase), but have not love, it means nothing. In the Western church, we have a tendency to focus on right belief. Students at my Christian liberal arts college (myself included) spend a lot of time staying up late debating doctrine. Too few of us (myself still included) pour as much passion into making sure every single one of our actions is in line with the Truth.

Second, there is a strong emphasis in Orthodoxy on fasting. The Eastern Orthodox tradition recognizes our materiality as created human beings, and acknowledges the importance of our physicality. But with that high esteem also comes an increased emphasis on asceticism (a healthy one, I believe, especially in wealthy and consumerist Western cultures). Self-discipline through fasting and other practices is vital to help us control our passions and reorder our priorities. The American Protestant Church, I dare say, could use a reminder of our materiality. If we learned how to see the physical world with spiritual eyes, we might see our abundant wealth more clearly and know better how to use it.

I could go on. We’re reading a great book (The Spirituality of the Christian East by Tomaš Špidlík). It sometimes confuses me; sometimes I disagree; other times, I agree heartily and am convicted. I’ll close with a quote from that text, one which reveals the necessity of living what is revealed to us, and gradually being sanctified (and perhaps, in fact, truly “working out our salvation”) through that life. Ahem: “The ‘incarnation’ of Scripture presupposes a reaction by the one who is acted upon, a permeation, a perichoresis…..” Man, that’s exciting.

Welcome Home!

I need to apologize before I start writing this.  (How's that for an introduction, eh?)  I volunteered to blog this week about homestays, but that's not what's most exciting to me right now (not that it's not exciting; on the contrary, I feel more and more at home here every day, and am definitely excited about my plans to teach my host mom how to make American food this weekend [by which I mean chocolate-chunk oatmeal cookies... very important American food!]).  But the point of this disclaimer is that I'm going to write a timely blog post about the thing which is most on my mind right now; that is, what it's like to be a Protestant learning about Orthodoxy in Romania.  But because I promised to write about homestays, and because I have a very overactive conscience when it comes to keeping promises, I'm going to post a blurb I wrote a while ago.  I hope that suffices for a glimpse into life on a Romanian farm.  Let me just say: it's really awesome.

My home in Romania!

My first impression of my new home was one of utter joy.  I’m dead serious.  I could not have imagined a more beautiful place to live for six weeks.  Ah.  The honeymoon stage is wearing off a little, now that I’m sitting here shivering in a very, very cold room… but anyway.  Welcome to the farm!

We have lots of chickens!

So.  I met my host father and little sister at the Impact building yesterday; they were kinda shy since neither of them speaks much English.  We then drove out of Lupeni up the road to Straja in the car with our nearest neighbor (I don’t think my family owns one).  He dropped us off at a wooden gate, which my host father untied and swung open.  Carrying my stuff on our backs, we walked through a huge garden and small horse pasture, then through another gate and towards the house.  Picture the most idyllic little European country farmstead you can imagine, and that’s my family’s home.  There are chickens running around outside, and haystacks, and apple and pear and plum trees, and horses and cows near the house and a bunch of sheep way up the mountain, and when my host mom hangs the laundry out to dry she uses a big branch to pull the clothesline down so she can reach it, and… aaahhh.  It’s awesome.  I like this type of agriculture a lot.  It makes me nostalgic for the days before Iowa turned into big mass-production agriculture… not that I ever experienced that… but anyway.

The kitchen

My family is small: my host father (Florin) and mother (Andreea) and a seven-year-old little sister (Mădălina).  They live in the house Florin grew up in, which is small and square: a tiny little hallway connects an itty-bitty bathroom, a kitchen, a sitting room (which is my bedroom), and a living room (which is where everyone else sleeps).  I feel a bit guilty, to be honest, taking over a whole quarter of the house, and sleeping on the pull-out couch in a room all by myself while Mădălina sleeps on a couch in the same room as her parents.  I’m keeping my clothes on two chairs and a little table in the corner of the room, and make and unmake my bed every morning and night; everything is a bit cramped and kitschy, but it’s cozy and I like it.  I have internet access (hence the ability to post this), which is a totally-unexpected perk: I didn’t realize how nice it is to be able to contact people I love who aren’t in Romania with me.

I’m tired, so that brings me to the end of this post, though I have tons of other stories I could share (like breakfast.  Guess what I had for breakfast?  This huge plate of cartofi (potatoes) and sausage and homemade sheep cheese… food is love here, and apparently I am well-loved, ‘cause my host mom just keeps feeding me, and feeding me, and feeding me… good thing Mădălina and I climbed all the way up to the top of the farm three times today!).  But more of those another time.  Noapte buna.

My host sister and the dog... we wrestle a lot.

Two Weeks

On August 23rd, 4 students from NWC and 1 from Calvin will arrive in Bucharest to begin their semester-long stay in Romania. Follow along as they live and learn experientially in Lupeni, Romania.