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Sunday, August 7, 2016

Escaping Transylvania To The West And Beyond

James Wilkie’s Role in
My Escape from Transylvania to the World
From the Romanian Gulag to Modern Cultures and Globalization 
Olga Magdalena Lazín

In 1973, at age 10 as a fifth grader in Transylvania’s isolated town of Sighet[1],  I had to make a fateful decision about my choice of foreign-language study: Russian or English. The pressure was on us to take up Russian, thus proving that we were all students loyal to the dictator Socialist” Nicole Ceausescu’s “Socialist Government” (read Romanian Communism allied with Moscow), but consciously I detested that system.
       Although I wanted to learn English, I did not then khow fatefully that choice would be come reality until 1991, when at almost 27 years of age, I met Jim Wilkie who had been advised by his brother Richard to include my town of Sighet in his journey to assess how Eastern Europe was faring after the fall of the “Berlin Wall,” short for the long wall that kept the people of Communist countries locked and unable to escape. But more later about how Jim found me as he sought an English-speaking intellectual and social  guide to Eastern Europe.
In the meantime, growing up in Sighet with a population of only 30,000 people, we were proud to recognize Eliezer "Elie" Wiesel (born 1928) as our most prominent citizen long before he won the 1986 Nobel Peace Prize. He helped us get past the terrible history of Sighet Communist Prison where “enemies of the state” were confined until “death due to natural cause.”
In my early years I had a hard time understanding how the green and flowered valley of Sighet (elevation 1,000 feet, on the Tisa River at the foot of our forested Carpathiane Mountains) could be so beautiful, yet we lived under the terribly cruel eye of the Securitate to protect from the people the wretched Dictator Nicolae Ceaușescu. Ceausescu,[2] who ruled from 1965 to his execution in 1989. Ceausescu was the harshest illiterate leader of all the countries behind Russia’s Wall against Western Europe.
Oddly enough, in the Transylvania of the late 1960s, 1970s and 1980s, supposedly I was living the “Golden Age of Romanian Socialism,” but even to myself as a young student, I could see that the  promised  “full progress” was clearly a lie. Most adults agreed but feared to speak so bluntly. My Romanian language professor Ileana Zubascu-Cristescu was praising the beauty of the region and still does, being part of the local elite which strongly believes in social mobility; from peasants to teachers to laud socialism’s progress, which is definitely a goal for this brand of professionals, AKA intellectuals.
       Fastforward to my teen years, even though the “English-Speaking USA” had been  supposedly always threatening to invade Romania, I continued to study English language and literature. That I chose to study English even though the act alone brought suspicion on me because all society was taught to believe  since 1945 that we were fighting off the Great Satan USA.[3] America was officially seen as a threat to Romania and and it allies under Russia’s COMECON,[4] all of which I became only fully aware as I grew older and had to buy the English Course textbooks on the risky, expensive Black Market.
In the meantime, once I was admitted to the Philologycal University, in 1982, without rarely granted permission, we were forbidden to meet and visit with foreigners, especially those who spoke English and who wanted to hear from us about  Sighet and its nearby wooden hamlets of the Maramures Province, where I have my first memories. The region is ethnically diverse, with a stimulating climate ranging from very hot summers and very cold winters. Geographically, we lived in the valleys and Mountains of Gutinul through which the rivers of Iza and Tisa flow. Geographically, the beautiful forested Tisa River is the natural border with Southern Ukraine.
As folklore has it in the West, vampires are native to Transylvania. We had vampires, werewolves, and wolverines, but all the mythological characters were actually members of the Communist Party, which everyone had to join--except for me because with my knowledge, I was considered a security risk!
Fortunately, when in 1982 I entered the University of Babes Boljay, in Cluj-Napoca, to earn my M.A. in 1990, for my Filology classes, I decided to conduct my field research project into the rural life of the North of Romania, recording the folklore (especially myths) invented  and passed down by rural folks (including small merchants, farmers, fisherman, loggers) had had used that lore to help them survive for centuries in Sighet and Tisa. Ruthenians and Romanians, as well as Hungarians made up the mozaique of Norhtern Transylvania, which makes for a colorful and resilient gene pool I myself was made of.
Further , much of my research conducted among the outlying farmers, delved deeply into Transylvania Folklore, which prepared me well to understand Communist Party Lore. After the Ceausu’ gridlock was broken in 1989, local lords started entrepreneurial vampirism practices in cities and villages of Maramures county, named PSD actioneers.
Thus, for the second time, my fateful choice of a field research project had further prepared me, unknowingly, for my future with Jim Wilkie.      
Once I had been admitted to the Babes Bolyai University, which was called “the heart and brain of Transylvania,” I also further expanded my deep studies in American language and literature. Also I studied Romanian language and literature in the Department of Philology. The Bolyai University Is considered the best and largest University in Transylvania.
Upon beginning my mentoring for other students, I was happy to find a sense of freedom. Reading and writing comprehension were my forté during my four years at Cluj.  I had always dreamt of being a professor and a writer and seemed to be off to a great start.
But I soon realized that our professors opened the day by reading the mounds of new Decrees just signed by Ceausescu, and  Thus, I began laughing, and other students join me in mocking the wooden language of Central Planning’s attempt to befuddle us with words from a wooden language, totally bent toward twisting our brains into confused submission. Professors and Securitate officers were acting as sweaty bureaucrats trying to teach us how to sharpen our mental images . Not one professor asked us, “What do each of you really think of all this Ceausescu propaganda of decrees harming the educational process?”               
Professors had their favorite students and made sure they pointed this out in class, stifling any competition as they show openly their favoritism or nepotism.
When I reached the age of 22 in1985, I started to be argumentative, criticizing professors, especially the history professor who only knew only the History of the Romanian Communist Party.
Further, as a woman in academia, I began to resent being forced to do the military service. The Russians, having been directing Romanian politicians since 1945, pressured the Romanians to replicate their warfare model, and forced students, irregradless of gender, to dig useless trenches as well as learn to disassemble and assemble the AK47! What a total waste of our precious time that was, especially that women had to bear children during this time, but had to simulate attacks, and  defensive strategies where there was no need for it.
The atmosphere was dreadful in classes. Restrictions were plentiful and absurd. Speech was not free; one couldn’t discuss issues freely in class, or make any real analysis or debate. One had to regurgitate what the professors were telling us. Modern economics led by and read whatever was there in the old books stacked in the communist library. Until I escaped Romania in 1992, I learned that the so-called economics classes we took taught nothing about money, credit, and such terms as GDP. The Marxian economics involved only
fuzzy nonsensical slogans such as “We Romanians have to fight-off the ‘running dogs of capitalism,” without the word “capitalism” ever being defined except in unrealistic theory laced with epithets. The Rockefellers, and the Rothchilds!
 Even as an English major, I could not speak with to foreigners in English --answering one question was a crime, according to the tendentious Security Decrees. Abortion was a crime punishable for up to 20 years in prison. Doctors performing it ended up in jail, and so did the pregnant women. Punishments were ridiculous—the Anti-Abortion Law lasted for 40 years, until 1990.
Furthermore if my uncle from Canada visited us, we were all under surveillance, the entire family. Even today, in 2016 one has to report to the police to declare if any visitor of  family comes from the USA (or Canada, for some bizarre security reason). Well after 25 years, not much has changed in poor Romania.
In the meantime, the History of Transylvania weighed heavily on population of Romania, with constant change in the emerging political map always have left “citizens” always lost about who was really in charge.
Thus, Transylvania was originally part of the Dacian Kingdom between 82 BC until the Roman conquest in 106 AD. The capital of Dacia was destroyed by the Romans, so that a new as capital would serve the Roman Province of Dacia, which lasted until 350 AD, by which time the Romans felt so hated that it behooved them to withdraw back to Rome.
      During the late 9th century, western Transylvania was conquered by the Hungarian Army to later became part of the Kingdom of Hungary and in 1570  to devolve into the Principality of Transylvania. During most of the 16th and 17th centuries, the Principality became an Ottoman Empire vassal state, confusingly also governed by the Habsburg Empire. After 1711 Transylvania was consolidated solely into the Hapsburg Empire and Transylvanian princes were replaced with Habsburg imperial governors. After 1867, Transylvania ceased to have separate status and was incorporated into the Kingdom of Hungary as part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire.[5] After World War I, Transylvania reverted in 1918 to be part of Romania.  In 1940 Northern Transylvania again became governed by Hungary and then Germany, but Romanian queen Maria successfully reclaimed it after the end of World War II.
The year 1940 was important for Romania because if was seized for its oil by Nazi Germany (1940-1944), “liberated” by the “Soviet Union” (1944-1947), and finally “re-liberated” to become the Popular republic of Romania (under USSR remote control), as the Cold War was beginning to freeze the Iron Curtain into place.
At the end of World War II while the USSR and its Red Army were the occupying powers in all Romania, in 1947 Romania forcibly and ironically became a “People’s Republic” (1947–1989), after the rise of the Iron Curtain.
The first “president,” Gheorghiu-Dej (1947) ruled as puppet of Moscow, but when he died, his Secretary General  of the Communist Party of Romania, Nicolae Ceausescu, was elected as the second “president” (1965-1989), shifting his savage dictatorship into a harsher Romanian “Gulag” than known in the USSR.  
For two decades I neither understood the dimensions of tragic history of Transylvania, did I understand that I would have to escape the Gulag of Romania by the “skin of my teeth.”
For peoples of the world Transylvania seems to be a far away place, where most people know the werewolves and vampires have been “seen” to in the imagination of Transylvanians, whose beliefs was soaked in mystical folklore. Even today it is hardly possible to have a rational conversation with most the Transylvanian folk on any subject without recourse to try to understand where their distorted imagination has befuddled them.
      The population has consisted of Romanians, Hungarians,  Germans, and some Ukrainians. These languages are still being spoken in Romania’s Maramures province, but because I always liked and loved the Romanian language,  I decided to become a Professor of Romanian Language and Literature.
I later told Jim how I had been admitted in 1982 to the Babes-Boyali Univerity,  in Cluj-Napoca at the heart of Transylvania, I focused especially on Linguistics. Unfortunately, there  I found that the professors, who were under the control of sweaty Securitate officers, had to read dozens of new Decrees issued every day as they sought to control every one of our daily actions—all in the name of protecting the Ceausescu government—which was selling the country’s food supplies to Russia in order to pay down Roman’s official debt at our experts. Those Securitate officers ate well and ominously watched us virtually starve. They said, be calm like your parents in the face of starvation.
 Thus, I furiously called out in my classes that our very existence was being compromised by Ceausescu's abandonment of the population, which was ordered to, as Lenin famously said, “work, work, work.”
To protect myself as best I could, I turned to humor , seeking to ridicule Ceausescu’s “national paradise.”  But when I  encouraged my classmates to laugh at the propaganda embedded in the wooden language of the national bureaucracy, I soon fell under the heavy scrutiny of university authorities, who were furious that I trying to expose the fact that all classes had been organized to befuddle the student body into confused submission. Indeed, each professor had favorite students to help drown out legitimate questions and stifle any competing analysis—the university lived under nepotism, favoritism, the threat of rape (virtual and real) by the Securitate officers, and open bribery--choose your garden   variety.
By 1986, at age 23, I had decided to flee Romania—an illegal act because Ceausescu did not want anyone (especially women of child-bearing age) to escape his plan to building his “ideal socialist industries” on farms and ranches as well as in the cities. In June I made my way to the border of Yugoslavia and paid a smuggler to evade the Romanian security forces that were preventing the “nations workers” from escaping. The smuggler, who took me across the border, turned out to be working for Romanian Border Police. Thus, soon after crossing into Yugoslavia, he turned his wagon around and I was again in Romania again when I realized what had happened too late. I had been “sold” to Ceausescu’s minions for a wagon load of salt.
That failed escape from Romania led me to a 10-month prison sentence in Timisoara Prison, wherein the block cells were maintained so cold (supposedly to eliminate bacteria and viruses) that it made all of us inmates sick with the cold and the flu.
Cell bed blankets were less warm than one Kleenex tissue. Moreover there were no pillow, and the concrete slab where inmates slept was a back-breaker. The lights were on 24 hours a day, blinding all of us, and there was constant observation. Every hour one was awakened to be counted, all under the guise of watching out for suicides. But everyone could be clearly seen by the guards, and there was no need to sleep-deprive inmates. There was also someone in the higher echelon ripping off the food budget to siphon money to themselves while serving inmates only baby carrots and spicy beans.
Almost every family in Romanian civil society had at least one member who had been imprisoned for trying to open the political system by denouncing the Ceausescu dictatorship. These inmates were openly called “Political Prisoners,” and I was one of them.
Political Prisoners were not permitted to work outside the prison walls in the fields because our crime had been the political decision to have repudiated Ceausescu’s “fantastic system of autoservice.”   
Once free in May 1987, I could return to my University to finally complete my M.A. in 1990.   
 Further in 1987, at the age of 24, I met the Family patriarch Nicolae Pipas,[6] who directed for the Communist government the walled Regional Art Museum in a quiet part of Sighet. Being one of the few highly educated persons who spoke English  in the region, I began to serve as interpreter/guide to visiting foreign Ambassadors permitted to travel in Romania. They wanted to see the Museum with its magnificent collection of paintings, sculptures, and rare historical pottery and coins. Thus, I soon found myself translating for visiting English-Speaking Ambassadors from many countries who wished to know Transylvania, especially my village Sighet and its Merry Cemetery famous worldwide for it tombstones in the form of wood sculpture of the butcher, the baker, candlestick maker, and all professions.
Although my first languages were Romanian and Hungarian, I could also translate into French and Italian. Indeed at that time I was teaching Latin in the Rural School System of my Maramures Province.
 By 1989, Ceausescu realized that his end was near, and he sought to gain support by pardoning his political prisoners (such as myself) who had tried to escape the horrendous conditions in the country. Hence, university students and some labor unions joined  forces and quite quickly after the Fall of the Berlin Wall forced Ceausescu and his draconian wife Elena to flee. They were caught and executed on Christmas Day, 1989, by the military that at the last moment joined the Revolution.
As my friends and I (along with most of the population) cheered the fall of the failed, rotten Romanian “dictatorship of the proletariat,” my dear mother acted differently. She was so confused by the propaganda of the only “leader” she knew much about that she wept for Ceausescu, not fully realizing that he was the one who had wrongly had be arrested and put me in prison. 
With Ceausescu gone, in 1990 I was able to secure a passport to ready myself to leave Romania by gaining visas for Germany and France. The question remained, how to get there by land without a visa to Austria—my region had no air connection to the outside world.
Almost age 27 in 1991, I was in the right place at the right time when UCLA Professor Jim Wilkie arrived in Sighet September 17th with Professor James Platler (his friend and driver). They came as part of their trip to assess the impact of the 1989 Fall of Iron Curtain--which had imprisoned all Romanians and made it a crime to try to escape from Romania. The two Americans had already visited “East” Germany,
Czechia,[7] and Slovakia (soon to break their union, each becoming independent), and Poland, where English speakers could provide guidance.
In Romania the UCLA Team found itself at a loss as few of the people who they encountered could speak English and none of them could analyze or articulate how the System of Government and society functioned before and after 1989.
       When we met, Jim immediately contracted[8] with me to advise them as well as guide them through Eastern Europe. They were pleased to hear the my outline of Transylvanian and Romanian history (see above), with which I explained how constant national boundary change meant that Transylvanians and Romanians were never able to develop either honest civil government or active civic society. Little did I know that the concepts of “Civic” and “Civil” Society were of utmost importance to Jim. As I would find out later, Jim and I had been conducting compatible research for year earlier and lead us to write two books.[9] Both books  distinguish  between our analysis of Civil Society (which represents national and local governmental activity and Civic Society (which involves active private citizens (who organize non-governmental initiatives to develop model projects beyond the ability of official bureaucrats to even comprehend, including the influence needed to monitor and expose the failures and successes of governmental activity).    
But before we left September 18th to visit Romania and Hungary, I had to find a substitute for my new class teaching American English and History in Sighet—I left a friend, Johny Popescu, to become my permanent substitute. Only then could our newly expanded Team set off under my guidance.
Thus, we set out on  September 18, 1991, to visit one of the most socially and economically interesting and beautiful parts of Romania by going up thought the green forested Carpathian Mountains via the beautiful Prislop Pass, stopping to visit small farming families in their folkloric clothing of which they were justifiably proud to wear on a daily basis.  Farther east in Romania, on the scenic roads, we visited the monasteries of Moldova, the town of Cimpulung Moldovenesc, Suceava, and then the  Monasteries  in Sucevita and Agapia. The gorgeous forested mountain road eventually led to Lacul Rosu and the lake country. Then we took the long scenic mountain road to  Cluj Napoca to visit my University.
As I briefed Jim about Romania, he was briefing me about factors in comparing national economies. For example, he told me about how he had reunited in Prague on September 15th with Richard Beesen, his former UCLA student and friend, to hear about his role in London as Manger of Deutsche Bank’s New Accounts in Russia and Eastern Europe. Richard had become famous for inviting Banking Officials and national Treasury Ministries to deposit their financial reserves on deposit in his bank in London. But because those who did not understand anything about “interest payment on deposited funds, they did not ask for nor did they gain any interest payments. Also, because most Western Banks were not sure that these new “capitalists” could be “fully trusted” for correct management of their deposits, his Deutsche Bank collected large fees to keep the Eastern Europe reserves safe. This was all very eye-opening for me.
Jim  and I had realized early on that we had an close affinity as we analyzed the situation of Romania, and he said “call me Jim.” (In contrast I called  James Plater  “JP.”) As we traveled to observe the situation of the people in different parts of the country, Jim and I formed a deep bond of observing and analyzing; thus both of realized this brief interlude had to continue for the long term in order to achieve our goals.
       As a Romanian, I had the right to enter Hungary, and we did so by-passing the miles of vehicles waiting to cross the border for the long drive to Budapest. There JP finally relaxed after the long drives and often poor hotels and hotels—he said that he finally found unbroken civilization again.
    Once we arrived in Budapest, JP, who had told Jim privately that from the outset of our trip that he thought that I was a “Spy” (planted on us by the Romanian Securitate to monitor our many “foreign” inquiries during our travel through Romania’s north country), announced that his concern about me had vanished as we realized the extent of my knowledge and research abilities.   In his mind, I  had to be a Spy because I had obtained access to special private dining rooms and quarter in some fine hotels, as well as invitations for wonderful lunches at some Monasteries, where miraculously I made immediate friends with each Mother Superior. But by the time we reached Budapest, he realized that at my University I had learned the Elite skills needed to survive safely and comfortably in Eastern Europe. 
        My problem was to enter Austria, where I had no visa. But Jim passed his UCLA business card through to the Consul General of Austria in Budapest, and quickly we found ourselves whisked from the back of the long line to the front and right into a meeting with the Consul General himself. He was pleased to hear about the research of our UCLA Team but said that I did have a visa. Jim then told them that I only needed a three-day transit visa to reach Germany, the visa for which he could see in my passport.
With entry to Austria solved, we were on the road to the Hotel Kobentzl and Graz, which overlook Salzburg, all the way analying the comparative economic and social situations of Austria, Hungary, and Romania.
We  spent most of our time down the mountain from Kobentzl in the valley, before returning to our sweeping Hotel view of Salzburg City. Meanwhile I was deepening my questions about capital is leveraged to undertake big private projects. As we took photos over from on high looking down on the many bridges of Salzburg  and Jim was explaining how the developed world operated by using finances, credit, and interest to help economies grow.
Finally we left Salzburg to enter Germany and Munich, where our quick look into Oktoberfest found us among nasty drunken louts each of whom seemingly had hand four hands: one to chug-a-lug beer; one to smoke foul smelling cigarettes; one to quaff horrible-bleeding-raw saugages; and one to punch someone in the face. From what we saw, Octoberfest was a place for nasty males seeking to “get smashed on beer” and then smash another male to break his nose. Thus, we fled for our lives as the brutes began to threaten anyone who looked at them.
Then on September 30th, I took the plane to from Munich to Paris to take a bus to Bordeaux to meet the family which had invited me to France.
Jim (and JP) also left the same day for Jim in arrive in time to go from the airplane to open and begin teaching his Fall Quarter class at UCLA. But he promised to call daily and return to join me again in ten weeks.
In the meantime, I made a trip to Paris to request political asylum in France, but grey-faced judge who rejected my request. The national
To complicate matters in Bordeaux, the French Security Agent there was investigating me, a lone woman, as a possible SPY sent by Romania to “monitor activities at the Port of Bordeaux. When he told that, if I pleased him in unmentionable ways, he would not deport me to Romania but arrange my legal status in France, I immediately told Jim on his next telephone call.
      To resolve our problem, Jim called his Paris friend Gerard Chaliand, a former visiting professor at UCLA, whose real job involved traveling the world for French Security to report on his travels that took him to all continents. Gerard immediately called French Security to report on the illegal approach to me by their  Agent in Bordeaux. That same day the Agent came to apologize profusely to me in the best manner that he could muster in his pitiful condition. He begged me not to have him fired for his proposition to me. I could see him looking at me in truly puzzled way that implicitly said: “Who are you? How did I make such a grave mistake in deciding that you, a lone Romanian women could not have any power to reach my bosses in Paris?” I took pity on him and told him that if he minded manners and watched from affair to be sure that I was always safe, he would not be fired.
Even though was December 11th when Jim arrived, France was in the midst what some in America call an “Indian Fall,” warm with Fall leaves still on the trees.
It was a very wonderful Fall time when we left Bordeaux the next day spend a few days seeing many castles along the Loire River.
        We then left for Paris to meet Gerard and personally thank him for having made the Bordeaux Security agent reexamine his whole approach to his life.
        Jim and I then went to visit with Jim’s contacts at the American Embassy, who heard about our research and suggested that Jim meet also with their contacts at the U.S. Embassy in Mexico City to facilitate getting underway our new Plan: Expand Jim’s successful consulting with the U.S. Council on Foundations to achieve the flows of non-profit funds between America and Mexico to help Eastern Europe take up the Wilkie Model to send some U.S. foundation funds to help their Non-Profit Sectors in Romania, Hungary, and Russia—much like the Soros Foundation had done by setting up Sub-Offices as Soros’ Local Foundations administered by Civic Activists in each country of Eastern Europe and Russia.[10]
 on The 1st trip was to the river of LOIRE, left in September, and came back in December. Then we went to Paris, and visited the Versailles, Champs Elysee, the Montmartre, and Montparnasse. We had everything to ourselfves, Then we went to MARSEIlle, listening to the PASTORALES., beautiful green lands of France.
In Marseille we stayed at the SOFITEl, JW was overlooking the Bay, into town. And we went to the COTE D’azure. We stayed at Hotel Welcome. Then rode  over the serpentined cornish roads, overlooking the Mediterranean, Cap Ferrat, and Monaco. Then JW had to fly out to teach again, and I flew back to Bordeaux.
LIFE with the nuns in Bordeaux

I flew to meet Jim in NICE, in 1992.
It is now another beautiful stay at WELCOME, in Beaulieu sur Mer.
Jim came back 10 weeks later. The second time we travelled to Carcassone, a fortified city, through Andora ( a gambling center, in the Pyrineeys). The Principality of Andora was rich and ostentatious with baroque buildings.  And La Rochelle.
Then entered into Spain, toward madrid, and stayed at Hotel Paris for a week, in the center of Madrid.
Here we enjoyed the charales in the main plaza.
We left to Toledo, and then to the town of Trujillo. In Trujillo we went and took pictures while walking on the red roofs of  houses, perfectly lined up for me to walk. I took great that I was free and nobody minded my business. Jim and I , we were only taking care of one another.
We went up to the Devil’s Throat (a town deep in a canyon, tucked into the mountains) to continue up in the mountains, and then went down to a walled town of AVILA, to Trujillo, and continued to Madrid.
Then we headed toward El Escorial, the monastery, and then JW flew out of madrid. I took the plane to France, and in Bordeaux I joined the nuns again, and continued my studies of Folklore at the University of Bordeaux, where I was writing about the mythical Lilith.
To paint a picture of words, I am flashing out the pageant,of that beautiful catholic church, as we went down from La Rochelle, along the clean river, where we called ahead and we found a room with a high ceiling.
In 1992 I left France for the United States, more specifically to Los Angeles.
In L.A. I witnessed the 1992 riots. We found a lovely hotel, Marina Del Rey, in Marina del Rey, where  I stayed for a week, and we looked for a place to live.
I have escaped from the bad world into the good world. We loved each other so deeply.
I moved into Westwood and enrolled into UCLA Master s program, and in  1996 into the Doctoral program in History. I graduated with brio in 2001, and published my Doctoral Dissertation in English and Spanish.
I understood that I never had good communication with any of my husbands. I was sensitive and creative; and only JW could appreciate me. I have finally found The man of my life.
Through consciousness meditation and working with James, he helped opening my third eye, and together we could conquer the world!

[1] Officially named Sighetu Marmației on Romania’s northwest border facing Ukraine’s southwestern border with Romania and Hungary.
[2] In modernized spelling.
[3] As in the case of Oceania always being threatened by eternal war alternating between Eurasia or Eastasia, portrayed in George Orwell’s 1984  (1948). Cf. my article “Orwell’s 1984 and the Case Studies of Stalin and Ceausescu,” in Elitelore Varieties (Edited by James Wilkie et al.):

[4] COMECON (Council for Mutual Economic Assistance) dates from the January 1949 communiqué agreed upon in Moscow by the USSR (including  its 15 Constituent Republics of  Russia, Armenia, Azerbaijan, Belaruse, Estonia, Georgia, Kazakhstan, Kyrgyzstan, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Turkmenistan, Ukraine, and Uzbekistan) and its five “Independent” Satellite Republics (Bulgaria, Czechoslovakia, Hungary, Poland, and Romania. The communiqué involved the refusal of all these countries to "subordinate themselves to the dictates of the Marshall Plan.”  Thus, they organized an “economic cooperation” among  these “new peoples’ democracies.” (USSR born 1922, died 1991). Cf.:
[5] This Empire existed between 1867 and 1918.
[6] Upon Ceausescu’s death, the Patriarch Pipas mysteriously became the Museum’s “owner” and then transferred title to his son Valerian Pipas, the regions most famous violinist.

[7] “Czechia” is rarely used in English because native English speakers too often do not know intuitively know how to pronounce it. The name Czechia has arisen as the short name for the Czech Republic, which emerged with the breakup of “Czechoslovakia” in 1992.   

[8] Jim soon arranged for the contract to by paid from his grant funds from U.S. foundations deposited for his projects sat UCLA.

[9] My first book, “Globalization  Is Decentralized,” and second book co-authored with James W Wilkie: “Brilliant and Dark Sides of Globalization” published in 2011 found on
[10] More in “Is Soros Just Another Robber Barron, or A Global Philanthropist?” on Kindle.

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