For two days she didn't trust to leave her poop at Cluj so I cut my visit short, being worried that the many chicken bones mother bestowed on her cemented into a plug. A lovely veterinarian told us it happened to one of her dogs and he was trying so hard to poop but nothing came out she gave the pekinese an enema in the end.
As soon as we came back to our peony garden Pandele squared and produced. I was watching him distraught.
My friend reassured me she found some pee puddles around the potted plants in case I was afraid for poor Pandele's kidneys. And when we visited Camelia's office Pandele released a lake near her potted plants. So my worries were unfounded. But still staying in the Munich airport for 5 hours then flying for 8 hours to JFK airport made me apprehensive.
Well, Munich airport is paved with sthey salt and pepper marble, no dog scents in sight, so when I walked to the Lufthansa customer service counter to ask them to compensate me with a voucher because when I came from JFK airport to Cluj a month ago they lost my luggage for days. I arrived on Wednesday and got my luggage delivered on Friday at 6 pm. Another traveler advised me to ask for a voucher because when they lost his luggage in Canada they gave him a voucher. We were exchanging notes in Cluj at the lost luggage office after we watch the carousel til the last luggage was picked up and all other travelers left. They lost his luggage both ways. Awful. I thought I'll go this time with the Germans, have a smooth travel with my six month old Pandele, but they were certainly not running their operations like clockwork. We left JFK 90 minutes late, so I missed my connection. The stewards didn't even bother to say good bye in Romanian. They fly to Romania for decades yet won't make the effort to say la revedere, though mostly Romanians fly to Cluj. Plenty of little old ladies coming home from visiting their children abroad. They can't understand your German announcements, the least you can do is say good bye in their language.
So as I was claiming my voucher Pandele under the safety of waiting area chairs hosed the gray marble with a delightful yellow. I immediately wiped it with paper towels and sanitized it with toilet paper soaked in toilet seat cleaner I'd gotten from the dispenser they had at the bathroom.
I apologized to the Lufthansa lady who just smiled. It's great how everybody smiles seeing Pandele running diligently next to me. I expected frowns and policing, after I read their policies. But everyone smiles.
I didn't get my voucher, yet. As we went to find our gate I saw a newspaper stand. I was searching for an English or French paper, something I could read, but it was all in German. A perky woman dressed in a peasant get up, apron and braided hair addressed me. I wasn't sure she was speaking to me. She was smiling pointing at the floor, gently asking me to perhaps take care of it. It being many sheep droppings mustard olive brown bullets! I was so very delighted and surprised that Pandele was at work. I tore the front page of Die Velt or some other angry looking politician picture and I collected the olives triumphantly.
I went again to the bathroom to replenish my paper and sanitizer supply. I wanted to find the water fountain but there was none. So seeing another Lufthansa customer service counter I inquired if the tap water was drinkable. They brought me a water bottle. Asked if I had a bowl. Yes, I had a silver plated one thanks to Cornel, my mother's philosopher handy man. More about drunkard handymen later.
The kind Lufthansa lady petted Pandele saying she' got one home too.
We're camping in the gate L22 area listening to fellow travelers chatting in Romanian about cristalin eye operations and immodest politicians avisiting Romanian diaspora. A young mother chatters in Russian, an American man bestows his preachy blessings on an Asian frail lady. A young man snores spread on three chairs. Pandele sighs sleeping curled on my lap.
They opened the gate. Long line. A peasant-costumed lady checks the boarding passes. A-ha. Munich aims for quaint, picturesque memories.
I must go ask what flight do they embark for because on my boarding pass says we start boarding at 11:35. Now it's 10:30 according to the waiting hall clock. What if they forgot to change the time at day light saving switch.
I must go ask the Tirolean lady.
Here's Pandele whose sleep I'm reluctant to disturb.
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