In 1993, there were 38 people who were interested in traveling to Romania for short term missions in the summer. So we flew into Frankfort, Germany and rented three vans to use. We had twenty people with us. After two weeks, we took fifteen of the group to Bucharest to catch the plane out, and then the next day, we picked up another fifteen Americans coming in for another two weeks. When that group was finished, we drove back to Frankfort, returning the vans after four weeks. While in Bucharest for one night, the remaining eight of us went out to a restaurant. That was an experience, since restaurants were few and far between in those days. The waiter spoke some English. He gave me a wink and said, “I have waited on Americans before.” And with a flourish, he delivered a bowl onto the table with two ice cubes in it. What a delicious surprise. Then a minute later, a gypsy fiddler appeared and serenaded us. I smiled at him, enjoying the tune. At the end, I gave him a tip. He bowed smartly and played another song. Of course, I had to tip him again. As he began a third song, I was onto his game. I turned around and focused my attention on my roasted chicken. Otherwise, the tipping would never end. Without my attention, the violinist moved on to another table. I enjoyed his playing from a distance – but without making eye contact.
