Halloween

Halloween has never been my favorite holiday. In recent years the fun of dressing up for a night has been eclipsed by the sheer pressure of coming up with a good costume. I read about the costumes other people come up with and the magnitude of their creativity amazes me. I think the last time I dressed up for Halloween was in college when I made the bold move of dressing as an Oregon Ducks fan the night before the Dawgs played the Ducks at Husky Stadium. The Dawgs won on a cold November night in one of the last glorious games I saw at Husky Stadium during college.

Not until last Wednesday did I see any indication of Halloween here in Bucharest. Large window decals near my metro stop had appeared over night announcing the holiday with traditional images of ghosts, pumpkins, witches, and, of course, HAPPY HALLOWEEN in big orange letters. The stores had not been full of fun-sized candy bars and the office had not been filled with talk of everyone's Friday night costumes and drinking holes. I found this refreshing.

Friday morning my first taste of fall came in the form of a pumpkin filled pastry a coworker bought. The pumpkin was more apparent by the color of the filling than the actual taste. Americans associate pumpkin with pie and lattes from Starbucks. Eating the large orange squash without copious amounts or added spices and sugar is fairly uncommon. But this pastry was not filled with Libby's pumpkin pie filling. It was real pumpkin on the inside. It was like someone had some pastry dough around while they were carving a jack-o-lantern and didn't know what to do with the gooey mess post carving. Except that Romanians don't carve jack-o-lanterns.

There was a time many many moons ago when I was as jazzed about Halloween as any kid should be. I'll admit to sneaking candy from my stash even when I had already eaten my daily allotment. I feel like I dressed up as a bunny every single year in elementary school but I'd bet I was a princess in there somewhere.

But without a doubt my fondest memories of Halloween as a kid were spending time with my dad. He never "dressed up" per se but he did allow my sister and I to dig into mom's make up stash and do his make up. Bright red streak of lipstick across the cheek? Sure! It was all part of the fun. Then dad would go wander around the neighborhood with us and try not to make fun of me when I was easily scared by the guy on the porch that jumped out at me just as I was about to snag a Kit-Kat.

And even when I grew out of trick-or-treating with dad, he always had more fun with the holiday than the women in our house. He pulled a Clark W Griswold on our outdoor Halloween decorations complete with black lights and a lit up "Free Broom Rides Here" sign. And when my mom jumped and dog barked EVERY time the doorbell rang with trick-or-treaters, my dad almost seemed giddy about answering the door. Warning: if you are a shy child do not go to the Ronan's for free candy because Tom Ronan likes to talk to every little kid that shows up at the door. Even when you don't want to talk to him.

So on a holiday I don't like, last Friday I had a quiet night here in Bucharest. I saw no trick-or-treaters and only one kid with a blue colored wig. Apparently at my house in DC "the level of adorableness in the trick-or-treaters [was] pretty much off the charts". I'm inclined to say the level of adorableness in the Ronan chicks and dad is pretty much off the charts.