Mos Craciun
Mos Craciun, the "old guy of Christmas" came today, giving me the softest scarf I've ever felt, a nice thick winter hat, and some good leather gloves. Since the weather in Alba Iulia today was windy and -8C, I got some good use out of them already.
Christmas was pretty calm around here. Lots of food was eaten, and lots of Romanian TV was watched.
One of the day's cultural oddity highlights was the public service announcement that aired about every 20 minutes during commercial breaks. "Am I reading that right that they're saying 'for your health, avoid fat, alcohol, and'...."
"Sugar."
"Yeah, sugar."
"Every year, too many men on Christmas eat way too much, and have to go to the hospital. It's not good."
Not good indeed. During the 6pm evening news, one of the major stories took us live on the scene at one of the larger hospitals, where a long line of people moaning and doubled over with indigestii craciun (Christmas indigestion), were croaking out things like "Uggghhh, am mancat prea mult. . . ." ("Ugh, I ate too much.")
Guess they weren't kidding. But what's an emergency room supposed to do with these guys anyway? Here, take a Rolaids, and go home.
Oddly, I was looking for another instance of the PSA so I could write down the exact words, but after about 5pm, it hasn't come on again, so apparently they figured by that point it was already too late to bother warning anyone.
Christmas was pretty calm around here. Lots of food was eaten, and lots of Romanian TV was watched.
One of the day's cultural oddity highlights was the public service announcement that aired about every 20 minutes during commercial breaks. "Am I reading that right that they're saying 'for your health, avoid fat, alcohol, and'...."
"Sugar."
"Yeah, sugar."
"Every year, too many men on Christmas eat way too much, and have to go to the hospital. It's not good."
Not good indeed. During the 6pm evening news, one of the major stories took us live on the scene at one of the larger hospitals, where a long line of people moaning and doubled over with indigestii craciun (Christmas indigestion), were croaking out things like "Uggghhh, am mancat prea mult. . . ." ("Ugh, I ate too much.")
Guess they weren't kidding. But what's an emergency room supposed to do with these guys anyway? Here, take a Rolaids, and go home.
Oddly, I was looking for another instance of the PSA so I could write down the exact words, but after about 5pm, it hasn't come on again, so apparently they figured by that point it was already too late to bother warning anyone.