Poetry and Springtime

Springtime came again this past weekend. I found myself wandering around, intentionally taking wrong turns just so I could draw out the walks a little. I also brought my camera so I could spy on sunshine hiding behind the doors on my street. This drew a few suspicious stares from my anonymous neighbors and some passersby, but that's okay; I deserved it. Somehow in the spring, I don't feel the need to hide my foreignness; instead I embrace the chance to hang my camera around my neck and act like a tourist.

I also made it to the fresh foods market a few more times. Mostly for strawberries. This is something I can't resist. But look at how many I got for a little over a dollar! I'm also encountering other (imported) bounties of spring...like baby spinach, fresh basil, and seedless grapes. If only I lived in Italy; they would all be freshly harvested.

We had another slice of American pie this week, as another Fulbright professor took some time out from Bucharest for a visit. This time, we actually had a poet, who doubles as a professor. He gave a poetry reading on Monday night, followed by a talk on "The Situation of the American Poet" in one of the courses today.

The poetry reading was hosted by the American Culture Club, and I considered it to be a very successful event. We had a sizable and diverse audience, including a few eloquent high school students, some American studies professors, and several new faces.

And the poetry wasn't so bad either! Students who last week claimed they hated poetry found themselves reassessing that view.
For me, a typical American who hasn't read poetry since 12th grade, it was also a fascinating experience. And we had the pleasure of hearing a new poem, inspired by the NATO Summit coming to Bucharest, as it was read to the public for the first time.

The talk today was also interesting, well at least to me as an American. At both the reading last night and the talk today, the poet suggested that poets in America, first of all, are currently invisible, but also that they are the ones we look to in order to give words to horror. So, not only do they praise what's good in the world (his example was a flower growing out of a crack in the sidewalk), but they also dispraise that which is evil in the world. So, at last a concrete answer to why humanities are so important.

In a somewhat poetic gesture, the warm spring weather today shifted to a very wet drizzle. To me, this is acceptable, as long as winter doesn't return. As I was walking to the university I noticed the mist rising out of the trees on Mt. Tampa, which up until now have mostly clung to the dead brown color of winter. But, as the mist rose it exposed a lot of new growth—imagine my shock! What, green on the mountain? Is it really time? Here's the view from my house. This is why rain can be wonderful.