So this year was definitely the most interesting Christmas that I’ve ever had. I rise as usual bright and early, but this year it is not to run downstairs and see what Santa has left under the tree. Instead I get dressed and head out to the ‘highway’ where I wait about 5 minutes before being picked up by a nice little old Russian-speaking man (yes, I hitchhike on a regular basis, but it is an accepted means of transportation here, and I only do it during the day if there is another woman in the car). We pick up a mother and son in the 4 kilometers between my village and the city of Soroca, and upon arriving at the bus station, I pay the man the customary 3 lei (about 27 cents) and walk the ten minutes to the center of town.
I meet up with a fellow volunteer by the huge Christmas tree, which kind of looks like some high school kids tee-peed it with red and green toilet paper, but is beautiful nonetheless. The two of us then continue on to the internet cafe, which is located in a basement near the town hall, and based on the dim lighting and bass thumping that you hear upon approaching, one could be fooled into thinking it is actually a disco. The teenage boy who works here, who dreams of one day visiting California, greets us in broken English that matches our broken Romanian, and set us up. All of the computers are in Russian, so he sometimes has to help me out when I can’t figure out where to click. Although, to my own credit, I am getting pretty good and sounding out Cyrillic. Anyhoo, I receive a call at 8.30 from my family, who have just arrived home from midnight Mass, and we are able to exchange Christmas greetings. (Side note – I love the fact that I can talk for hours with people thousands of miles away and not pay a dime!)
After the internet cafe we move on to the piata, which is always guaranteed for interesting times. Just outside the piata we stop to admire the sale of chickens. They are all just hangin’ out, not restrained in anyway. Some of them are stuffed inside pungas (rectangular, sturdy plaid plastic tote-bags). Others are calmly being carried away, one leg and wing being held, the other just dangling there. Doo-de-doo. The piata consists of hundreds of little booths with tin roofs all smashed together in aisles with room to almost comfortably fit two people across, but are almost always jammed with five. As much as I want to, I just haven’t gotten used the lack of personal space. Anyways, the piața is divided into clothes/shoes, food, and household items. You can find everything, including live fish, glittery cosmetics, Pantene ProV, Snickers bars, hundreds of pairs of knee-high black stiletto boots, extension cords, underwear, buckets, tiaras with gaudy gems that light up (I pick up one of those for New Years), and random car parts. Really just about anything imaginable. My favorite place is what I like to call the brînză barn, a large covered room with ladies all lined up behind tables with their scales and huge chunks of homemade goat cheese. The smell of the stinky cheese reaches the nostrils quickly, and the sounds of the ladies trying to get us to buy their cheese call out to us – ‘Fetele! Gustati!’ Girls! Try This! At the end of the row is the Unt Om (Butter Man) with his gigantic block of butter (there is no such thing as margarine here). Today he has chocolate butter! As I’m planning to make chocolate chip cookies this weekend, I buy 400 grams of the regular butter. And then I decide to get some of the chocolate butter too; perhaps I’ll join my dad in eating bread and butter with our tea tonight.
We head back to the Christmas Tree to meet up with another volunteer, and as we’re waiting, I hear my name (or rather, the version of my name that Moldovan’s manage to make out – Kait!). I turn and see Doamna Valentina, an active older woman from my village, accordion slung over her back, leading her gaggle of kindergarteners to the cultural center for a little Christmas concert. Viniti cu noi! Come with us! she calls out to me. We follow, but in staying consistent with Moldovan time, the concert doesn’t actually being at 10.00, as was planned. At 11.00 it still hasn’t begun, and we move on. I need to make a copy of my office key, so we head to the shoe-repair shop. The lady there only speaks Russian, but this is no problem. I point to my key, and to the key-copy-maker-machine-thingy. She holds up one finger, and I nod. She hands me the copy and tells me ‘ПЯТЬ’ (pee-at) which I know is 5 because I watch the figure-skating show all the time and hear them read off the scores – 5.8, 5.9, 5.8! I hand her five lei and thank her, СпaСИба (spa-see-ba). I am pretty proud of myself after that one.
Now it’s time to head back to my village and go to work. Kinda weird to be going to work on Christmas. But I have a plan to make it a little more interesting than usual. I pack up my laptop, with a playlist of Christmas songs ready to go, as well as a slide-show of Christmas pics from home. I throw in some candy and cookies, as well as a bottle of champagne, don my santa hat, and head to the primăria. My partner and the social worker are there when I arrive. Merry Christmas! I greet them as I enter. I pull out the laptop and plop down the bag of candy. They tell me that the mayor is not here today. Good, I say, because I have this too, and pull out the champagne. Haha, they say, good indeed! and my partner pulls a huge bottle of homemade wine out from under the desk, while the social worker takes a two-liter of beer out of the cupboard. Haha, they are prepared for my Christmas too! My fellow volunteer arrives from Soroca, the social worker’s adorable 6 year old comes in, and pretty soon everyone from the primăria is crowded into my little office having a grand old time. I impress them with my vast knowledge of the Russian language, as well as my mad caroling skills (I learned the Romanian translation of Jingle Bells). They admire my pictures from home, but aren’t too impressed with Bing’s White Christmas. All-in-all, it is a pretty successful little ad-hoc celebration.
Back at home, I prepare to resume the normal day’s activities. I hand wash some clothes (I can never seem to get all of the soap out!), and I’m sending out Merry Christmas text messages when I receive a call from my partner’s daughter. They want me to quick come over and help them out with something. I throw on my boots and coat and make my way in the dark down the dirt road to my partner’s house, and ten minutes later I am speaking on the phone with a nice old lady in Germany. Turns out my partner and her husband are friends with a couple in Germany, but now that the German couple’s son is away somewhere, they don’t have a translator. My partner wants to call and wish them a Merry Christmas, so my German-speaking skills are called into action. So here I am, Christmas night in Moldova, translating German into Romanian, and vice-versa. Interesting. After the call I try to excuse myself, since my family is waiting dinner on me. Oh no! Of course that is not an option. Now that I’m here I have to stay! My partner calls my host-ma.
I hear the dog barking outside, and in comes a young woman with a little boy in tow. My partner’s goddaughter and her son. A few minutes later, in comes her husband, who turns out to be the goofy guy who works at the primăria. I didn’t realize he was married, let alone had a kid. His wife is very friendly and talkative, 6 months younger than I, and inside I entertain the hope of making a friend my age, even though she is a married woman with a 1.3 year-old. We eat a delicious meal, talk a lot, and while-away the night. It is nice to spend some time with my partner and her family, away from the office. I finally take my leave around 9.30.
Back at the casa, I call one of my best volunteer friends and we exchange Christmas stories and make plans for our New Year’s night in Chisinău (one-day escape from our three month lock down!). We hang up and my family calls me again, 14 hours after the first call and a long day for me, and a good night’s rest for them! This is a wonderful end to a wonderful Christmas. I am able to talk to the whole family, including a few surprise guests – Aunt Carolyn and Uncle Joe are there too, as well as Mr R., my most favoritest theater director. An hour later I finally hang up, and as I lay my head down, I think to myself, despite low expectations, this really was a merry Christmas!
December 29, 2007
December 28, 2007
Where's the Strawberry?
I believe a few words should be devoted to describing the tv programming here. For one, it is 90% from Russia, and therefore not of use to me. But as that is all anyone watches, that is what I watch, usually staring blankly at the tv and thinking about something else. The main event each weeknight is ‘Tatianas’ Day,’ a soap opera that all the ladies talk about at work and my last host mom loved. She would explain to me how Tatiana Razbeshtina was in love with Tatiana Dakhova’s husband, Sergiu, and stole her baby and said it was hers and Sergiu’s while Sergiu was away in Moscow for nine months so that when he came back he would love her again. Uh huh. The music is very dramatic anyways. There are a few programs that are possible to enjoy without understanding – such as the Russian version of American Idol, ‘Star Factory.’ Or the skating show where well-known personalities are matched up with professional skaters and the pairs compete every week with new creative routines. Or the talent competition to win a million-bajillion rupies, with judges who all seem to be hard to please. I thought the old man wearing pink make-up playing the saw was pretty dang entertaining, but they gave him a definite ‘Nyet.’ Then there’s the show where teams of three wear silver spandex body suits and helmets and have to contort their bodies into the shapes that are cut into a foam wall that comes from behind a curtain and moves toward them rapidly – if they don’t fit their bodies through the shapes as the wall reaches them, it knocks them into a pool. And there is another show where four teams – the US, Russia, China, and Kazakhstan - compete in the most random contests ever. Like wearing huge ostrich costumes and pedaling tiny bikes and then mounting a large spinning platform and trying to knock down baby bottles hanging from ropes with their beaks. What?!!
The English classes are not a total disaster. If I have a little time to prepare, I can come up with something to do for an hour. The kids are so cute and eager to learn. They have real problems pronouncing the ‘Th’ sound, and it is not uncommon for French or Russian words to slip out (being that English is now their 4th language). I don’t know how much I can teach them when the only resources we have are one hour per week, a few pieces of chalk, and a small blackboard, but I think there is some sign of understanding and progress in just two weeks. At any rate, these few lessons are helping me become more integrated into the community.
I went to a two-day conference in Chişinău with my partner. It was about revising the village’s 5 year strategic plan. Because the topics covered were very familiar to me (mission, vision, SWOT, goals, objectives, etc.), I was able to understand almost everything, even though it was all in Romanian at warp speed. I’m really starting to get the hang of it! But then there are days that I feel like I really don’t have it at all. So I suppose it’s time for me to tell about some of my more comical linguistic slip-ups. Back in PST, I mixed up the word ‘fond’ with ‘fund’ and instead of saying ‘I need funding,’ I said ‘I need ass.’ The other day when I wanted a stapler, I kept saying, ‘Unde este capşuna?’ and was met with confused looks. Turns out I was asking where the strawberry was. The word I was looking for was capsator, not capşună. Oops. Or one time I wanted to say that after a year maybe I will know some Russian too, but instead I said I will know Russian after an hour. I was wondering why they all started to laugh. Finally, I was at a restuarant and asked what the placinte (little pasty-like thingies) were stuffed with, and she said ‘curechi.’ To me, this sounded like ‘cu urechi,’ which means ‘with ears.’ Huh? That doesn’t sound very tasty! Turns out curechi is another word for cabbage.
So on the rare occasion that I use an actually restroom (such as during my stay in Chisinau for the aforementioned conference), I always seem to have a problem finding the light. The light switch never seems to actually be located in the restroom. It’s somewhere outside, hidden. I usually just push every button I can see within a 10 meter radius, and more often than not I end up turning off more lights than turning any on. Or sometimes there is a switch inside the little room with the toilet, but it’s actually for the room with the sink, whereas the switch in the room with the sink is for the room with the toilet. The other day at a restaurant I never found a switch at all, and finally just gave up and peed in the dark.
Since it snowed a couple of weeks back, my village and the surrounding land have been extra beautiful. The snow lays a little different on each different plot of land, so you can see the checkerboard of fields on the hills, and the trees have held some snow. The main road in the center of the village has turned in to the sledding hill for the kids, who form chains with their runner-sleds. Unfortunately with the snow came ice, and my walk to work is treacherous. I’ve had a few really close calls, and running is pretty much out of the question unless I wear the hideous bright yellow yak trax provided by peace corps.
So now that I’m actually an official volunteer, what is my typical day like? Well I usually wake around 7:30 and putz around in my room for a bit. (Sometimes I get up at 7.00 and go for a quick 5k.) Sometimes I eat breakfast alone, sometimes with the rest of the family, usually consisting of bread and brînză (goat cheese), sometimes fried eggs and salami, and if I’m lucky, a really delicious oatmeal porridge concoction. I get into work around 9:00, in my little office at the primăria (town hall). I chat with the social worker who shares the office, I study language, I visit some of the other 7 people who work at the primaria, they come to visit us, I translate random things into English for random people, I have language lessons twice a week, I teach English lessons twice a week, and I talk with the people who come in to take out or pay off a loan. (My NGO takes out large credits from the bank in Soroca and then gives out smaller loans to the community members.) Sometimes I have little field trips, such as when I was invited to go to watch the kindergarten Christmas show – so cute! I usually get home between 4-5, and I chat with my sister or dad, and we make dinner (or rather, I try to help make dinner, but usually they just tell me to sit and relax and talk to them). I enjoy dinner because we talk a lot and the food is delicious. After dinner we go into the living room to watch TV (as described above), I usually read (I finished Harry Potter in Romanian and have moved on to a novel in Romanian that I haven’t read in English – I’m really challenging myself!) or I write or play on my computer or learn a few Russian words just for kicks (reading in Cyrillic is kind of like a decoding game!). Perhaps a relative or neighbor will stop by, but usually more on the weekends. At 8ish, we go back into the kitchen for tea and sweets. Well, we girls eat sweets, and my dad eats bread slathered with butter. This is my favorite time of day, along with dinner. It is so nice for everyone to sit together and talk, something that rarely happened at home. However, since it is dark at 5 now, it’s not like anyone has any place else to go. It will be sad when my dad goes back to the Czech Republic and my sister finds a job and moves to Chisinau. But I know that my sister is getting anxious to find work and not have to sit around home all day doing nothing. That is a horrible feeling. So even though I will miss her, I am praying that after the holidays are over, she will be able to find a good job. Getting back to my day, at 9.30 I run out to the outhouse one last time and then retire to my room, where I usually do a body/ab circuit and try not to make too many grunting noises as I exert myself. I read for a bit and hit the sack around 11. So not extremely exciting, but each day is a bit different, and each day there is something worthwhile, be it meeting a new person, or understanding a joke.
Well that's all for now, stay tuned for tales from Christmas!
The English classes are not a total disaster. If I have a little time to prepare, I can come up with something to do for an hour. The kids are so cute and eager to learn. They have real problems pronouncing the ‘Th’ sound, and it is not uncommon for French or Russian words to slip out (being that English is now their 4th language). I don’t know how much I can teach them when the only resources we have are one hour per week, a few pieces of chalk, and a small blackboard, but I think there is some sign of understanding and progress in just two weeks. At any rate, these few lessons are helping me become more integrated into the community.
I went to a two-day conference in Chişinău with my partner. It was about revising the village’s 5 year strategic plan. Because the topics covered were very familiar to me (mission, vision, SWOT, goals, objectives, etc.), I was able to understand almost everything, even though it was all in Romanian at warp speed. I’m really starting to get the hang of it! But then there are days that I feel like I really don’t have it at all. So I suppose it’s time for me to tell about some of my more comical linguistic slip-ups. Back in PST, I mixed up the word ‘fond’ with ‘fund’ and instead of saying ‘I need funding,’ I said ‘I need ass.’ The other day when I wanted a stapler, I kept saying, ‘Unde este capşuna?’ and was met with confused looks. Turns out I was asking where the strawberry was. The word I was looking for was capsator, not capşună. Oops. Or one time I wanted to say that after a year maybe I will know some Russian too, but instead I said I will know Russian after an hour. I was wondering why they all started to laugh. Finally, I was at a restuarant and asked what the placinte (little pasty-like thingies) were stuffed with, and she said ‘curechi.’ To me, this sounded like ‘cu urechi,’ which means ‘with ears.’ Huh? That doesn’t sound very tasty! Turns out curechi is another word for cabbage.
So on the rare occasion that I use an actually restroom (such as during my stay in Chisinau for the aforementioned conference), I always seem to have a problem finding the light. The light switch never seems to actually be located in the restroom. It’s somewhere outside, hidden. I usually just push every button I can see within a 10 meter radius, and more often than not I end up turning off more lights than turning any on. Or sometimes there is a switch inside the little room with the toilet, but it’s actually for the room with the sink, whereas the switch in the room with the sink is for the room with the toilet. The other day at a restaurant I never found a switch at all, and finally just gave up and peed in the dark.
Since it snowed a couple of weeks back, my village and the surrounding land have been extra beautiful. The snow lays a little different on each different plot of land, so you can see the checkerboard of fields on the hills, and the trees have held some snow. The main road in the center of the village has turned in to the sledding hill for the kids, who form chains with their runner-sleds. Unfortunately with the snow came ice, and my walk to work is treacherous. I’ve had a few really close calls, and running is pretty much out of the question unless I wear the hideous bright yellow yak trax provided by peace corps.
So now that I’m actually an official volunteer, what is my typical day like? Well I usually wake around 7:30 and putz around in my room for a bit. (Sometimes I get up at 7.00 and go for a quick 5k.) Sometimes I eat breakfast alone, sometimes with the rest of the family, usually consisting of bread and brînză (goat cheese), sometimes fried eggs and salami, and if I’m lucky, a really delicious oatmeal porridge concoction. I get into work around 9:00, in my little office at the primăria (town hall). I chat with the social worker who shares the office, I study language, I visit some of the other 7 people who work at the primaria, they come to visit us, I translate random things into English for random people, I have language lessons twice a week, I teach English lessons twice a week, and I talk with the people who come in to take out or pay off a loan. (My NGO takes out large credits from the bank in Soroca and then gives out smaller loans to the community members.) Sometimes I have little field trips, such as when I was invited to go to watch the kindergarten Christmas show – so cute! I usually get home between 4-5, and I chat with my sister or dad, and we make dinner (or rather, I try to help make dinner, but usually they just tell me to sit and relax and talk to them). I enjoy dinner because we talk a lot and the food is delicious. After dinner we go into the living room to watch TV (as described above), I usually read (I finished Harry Potter in Romanian and have moved on to a novel in Romanian that I haven’t read in English – I’m really challenging myself!) or I write or play on my computer or learn a few Russian words just for kicks (reading in Cyrillic is kind of like a decoding game!). Perhaps a relative or neighbor will stop by, but usually more on the weekends. At 8ish, we go back into the kitchen for tea and sweets. Well, we girls eat sweets, and my dad eats bread slathered with butter. This is my favorite time of day, along with dinner. It is so nice for everyone to sit together and talk, something that rarely happened at home. However, since it is dark at 5 now, it’s not like anyone has any place else to go. It will be sad when my dad goes back to the Czech Republic and my sister finds a job and moves to Chisinau. But I know that my sister is getting anxious to find work and not have to sit around home all day doing nothing. That is a horrible feeling. So even though I will miss her, I am praying that after the holidays are over, she will be able to find a good job. Getting back to my day, at 9.30 I run out to the outhouse one last time and then retire to my room, where I usually do a body/ab circuit and try not to make too many grunting noises as I exert myself. I read for a bit and hit the sack around 11. So not extremely exciting, but each day is a bit different, and each day there is something worthwhile, be it meeting a new person, or understanding a joke.
Well that's all for now, stay tuned for tales from Christmas!
December 14, 2007
The Real 'Fun' Begins
I had just gotten adjusted to life in my village where I had training. I had a great family and wonderful new friends. I knew how to take the rutiera to Chisinau. I knew where I could run to get in a good workout. I knew the ladies at the convenience store, and I enjoyed Mama Axenia’s shouting across the village. I was used to being endearingly called ‘Catiușa’ (Ka-too-sha). Plus I had the safety blanket of other Americans in my same situation. Now all of that is gone, and I have had to start all over, alone. The last three weeks have been a rollercoaster of emotions, to say the least. But I suppose this is what I signed up for!
I’m living in a village of about 1000, not far from Soroca, a city of about 20,000, one of four Moldovan cities mentioned in Lonely Planet. I am also just across the Nistru River from Ukraine. My village has one paved road (for about a block), three convenience stores, a grade school, kindergarten, town hall, small medical center, a gas station, and a ‘disco.’ It is situated on the top of hill, with amazing views of the rolling hills and forests around. I have to walk down hill from the town hall, where I work, to my house, and I almost always stop to enjoy the view of the valley below and the hills with both forest and farmland rising up behind it. I usually chase chickens down the road or pass a horse or cow just hangin out at the side of the road.
I have been placed with an ONG that was founded with the goal of helping the women of the community to successfully adjust during the transition from a planned economy to a market economy. The organization runs on money from grants, and projects range from community centers to demonstration plots. My role will be in the area of local economic development, but what exactly that will entail is TBD. For the first three months, I am to focus on further developing my language skills and learning as much as I can about the village and its people. This is in itself a challenge.
Reactions to my presence have been mixed. Some are very excited and curious. Others don’t understand how I can possible help, other than to perhaps find some American donors. And still others are simply indifferent. I will have to work on forming strong relationships with those who are glad that I am here, and all the while put out a positive image and work hard so as to convince some of the others that I can be of value.
My new host family is amazing. My mom is an accountant in Soroca, and my host father works in the Czech Republic. I have a host sister my age, who is currently living at home while trying to find work. This is a typical Moldovan family, unfortunately – one working abroad, one who can’t find work despite being well-qualified, and maybe one who is bringing in a little money at home. However, they are warm, welcoming, curious, and patient with me. They made me feel at home right away, and I’m so thankful that they are so helpful with the language. There is extended family dropping by a lot, which is nice. My host uncle is from Turkey, and his daughter, age 10, speaks 5 languages already! She comes over a lot, and never stops talking, which I suppose is good for me. Most host mom works for this brother-in-law from Turkey, who owns a business selling windows and doors. Last Friday I went with my sister to visit my host mom at work. Towards the end of the day, the aunt started up the barbeque, and we ended the week with a little turkish feast. As I sat there in the somewhat sketchy warehouse kitchen, eating strange food with 1.5 Turks and a handful of Moldovans, with no less than 5 languages being thrown about, I thought to myself, this is what I signed up for!
My dad came home this past weekend for a surprise two-week visit. This meant even more visitors than usual, and a whole lot of food. On Sunday I sat down at the table around 1:00 and remained there until 9:00. All sorts of people came by – relatives, neighbors, friends, even the town medical assistant made an appearance. Some stayed only an hour or two, others the entire day. The food was replenished often, and the drinks constantly (czech beer and house wine, can’t ask for any better than that!). There was some roudy singing and lots of laughing.
There are about 10 people who work at the town hall. I have now gotten to know them all somewhat, and have concluded that I will enjoy having them around for two years. My partner is only around once in awhile, as she has another job in Soroca. There is another lady, a social worker of some sorts, who shares the office with the NGO. At first I thought it would be a little crowed with three of us in a 6x6 office, but now I think I am quite fortunate that Doamna Enesia is there. This woman never stops talking! I would be totally bored were it not for her. She takes me around places, shares jokes, corrects my language, and explains things to me. A blessing for sure. And her 6-year-old, Victor, is adorable! Extremely smart, and friendly. We have done his homework together sometimes when he comes to see his mom after school, and I joke that he is my language teacher.
The other people at work are great too. Everyone is constantly going to each other’s offices just to chat and see what has happened in the twenty minutes since they were last there. My birthday was the second day that I went to work, and even though everybody had only known me for a day, they all come together to get me a rose and a few small gifts. I made chocolate chip cookies, and everyone crowded into my tiny office where we ate cake, cookies, and cheese pies, and drank some beer. I was very touched by and appreciative of their kindness.
I have begun to recognize other people in the village outside of work and family as well. Domnul Vasilie, who owns an orchard and exports his apples to Russia, who is always giving me a hard time. Doamna Efimia talks a lot and is very proud of her three boys. Domnul Polițist is ironically the one person in this town who I would pick to cause any trouble, but is in fact the lone police officer. And there is the old man with a friendly greeting as we cross paths every morning. I look forward to getting to know many more!
The school in my village only goes up to grade nine, and the kids don’t get to learn English, only French. So from the first day everyone has been asking me if I wouldn’t mind teaching a group of students English. Now I don’t know the first thing about how to teach a foreign language, and my Romanian isn’t even on par with that of the previously mentioned 6-year old. But apparently neither of these things are a problem for them, so with nothing better to do with my time at this point, I reluctantly agreed. Since I’m already getting tired of the stares from the kids as I walk past the school on my way to work everyday, I figured this could be a good way to get to know some of them and perhaps lessen the strangeness of my presence in this town. When I agreed, however, I didn’t realize that they wanted me to begin that very day. A group of teachers brought me into a classroom with 35 or so 11- and 12-year-olds, introduced me, and then left me there. What?! What the heck do I do now? I hadn’t planned a thing to do, nor had I rehearsed in my head how to say anything in Romanian. But I was able to think on my feet and make it through at least a half-an-hour successfully. I asked them why they want to learn English, and what topics specifically they wanted to learn. I told them a bit about myself, and asked them their names. The first four girls all said, “My name is Doina,’ and I thought, ‘great, they’re already playing jokes on me.’ But in fact, all four of them are named Doina. Excellent, easier for me. I ended, at their request, by teaching them common greetings. As terrified as I was (why do I care what 12-year-olds think of me??), I was quite proud of myself afterwards. And the next day, while returning to work after lunch, Serghei greeting me with a confident ‘good afternoon!’
There are three paved country roads leading away from my village that are good for running. One of them crests a hill and offers a spectacular view of Soroca and Ukraine across the river. The other day I was running on said road and passed an old man grazing his cows on the side of the road. He was still there as I was coming back, and as I approached I could tell he was going to speak to me. I slowed up and stopped my music, expecting a ‘what are you running from?’ or ‘aren’t you cold?’ But I heard something about ‘ran in 10 seconds,’ so being curious, I stopped. He didn’t have many teeth, so I had to really concentrate and ask him to repeat himself a lot, but apparently back in the Soviet era he used to be a great runner and train for hours every day. He said he ran a 3k in 9min 16sec. That’s pretty fast. Then he went on spouting statistics about various Olympics and who could run 100m in under 10 seconds. Then he seemed to become a bit nostalgic. Who knows who I came across that day? He could have been quite the celebrated athlete in his day. I think he was glad to see someone who appreciated running as he did. And I too was glad know that not everyone here thinks I’m crazy.
Well, that's all for now. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
I’m living in a village of about 1000, not far from Soroca, a city of about 20,000, one of four Moldovan cities mentioned in Lonely Planet. I am also just across the Nistru River from Ukraine. My village has one paved road (for about a block), three convenience stores, a grade school, kindergarten, town hall, small medical center, a gas station, and a ‘disco.’ It is situated on the top of hill, with amazing views of the rolling hills and forests around. I have to walk down hill from the town hall, where I work, to my house, and I almost always stop to enjoy the view of the valley below and the hills with both forest and farmland rising up behind it. I usually chase chickens down the road or pass a horse or cow just hangin out at the side of the road.
I have been placed with an ONG that was founded with the goal of helping the women of the community to successfully adjust during the transition from a planned economy to a market economy. The organization runs on money from grants, and projects range from community centers to demonstration plots. My role will be in the area of local economic development, but what exactly that will entail is TBD. For the first three months, I am to focus on further developing my language skills and learning as much as I can about the village and its people. This is in itself a challenge.
Reactions to my presence have been mixed. Some are very excited and curious. Others don’t understand how I can possible help, other than to perhaps find some American donors. And still others are simply indifferent. I will have to work on forming strong relationships with those who are glad that I am here, and all the while put out a positive image and work hard so as to convince some of the others that I can be of value.
My new host family is amazing. My mom is an accountant in Soroca, and my host father works in the Czech Republic. I have a host sister my age, who is currently living at home while trying to find work. This is a typical Moldovan family, unfortunately – one working abroad, one who can’t find work despite being well-qualified, and maybe one who is bringing in a little money at home. However, they are warm, welcoming, curious, and patient with me. They made me feel at home right away, and I’m so thankful that they are so helpful with the language. There is extended family dropping by a lot, which is nice. My host uncle is from Turkey, and his daughter, age 10, speaks 5 languages already! She comes over a lot, and never stops talking, which I suppose is good for me. Most host mom works for this brother-in-law from Turkey, who owns a business selling windows and doors. Last Friday I went with my sister to visit my host mom at work. Towards the end of the day, the aunt started up the barbeque, and we ended the week with a little turkish feast. As I sat there in the somewhat sketchy warehouse kitchen, eating strange food with 1.5 Turks and a handful of Moldovans, with no less than 5 languages being thrown about, I thought to myself, this is what I signed up for!
My dad came home this past weekend for a surprise two-week visit. This meant even more visitors than usual, and a whole lot of food. On Sunday I sat down at the table around 1:00 and remained there until 9:00. All sorts of people came by – relatives, neighbors, friends, even the town medical assistant made an appearance. Some stayed only an hour or two, others the entire day. The food was replenished often, and the drinks constantly (czech beer and house wine, can’t ask for any better than that!). There was some roudy singing and lots of laughing.
There are about 10 people who work at the town hall. I have now gotten to know them all somewhat, and have concluded that I will enjoy having them around for two years. My partner is only around once in awhile, as she has another job in Soroca. There is another lady, a social worker of some sorts, who shares the office with the NGO. At first I thought it would be a little crowed with three of us in a 6x6 office, but now I think I am quite fortunate that Doamna Enesia is there. This woman never stops talking! I would be totally bored were it not for her. She takes me around places, shares jokes, corrects my language, and explains things to me. A blessing for sure. And her 6-year-old, Victor, is adorable! Extremely smart, and friendly. We have done his homework together sometimes when he comes to see his mom after school, and I joke that he is my language teacher.
The other people at work are great too. Everyone is constantly going to each other’s offices just to chat and see what has happened in the twenty minutes since they were last there. My birthday was the second day that I went to work, and even though everybody had only known me for a day, they all come together to get me a rose and a few small gifts. I made chocolate chip cookies, and everyone crowded into my tiny office where we ate cake, cookies, and cheese pies, and drank some beer. I was very touched by and appreciative of their kindness.
I have begun to recognize other people in the village outside of work and family as well. Domnul Vasilie, who owns an orchard and exports his apples to Russia, who is always giving me a hard time. Doamna Efimia talks a lot and is very proud of her three boys. Domnul Polițist is ironically the one person in this town who I would pick to cause any trouble, but is in fact the lone police officer. And there is the old man with a friendly greeting as we cross paths every morning. I look forward to getting to know many more!
The school in my village only goes up to grade nine, and the kids don’t get to learn English, only French. So from the first day everyone has been asking me if I wouldn’t mind teaching a group of students English. Now I don’t know the first thing about how to teach a foreign language, and my Romanian isn’t even on par with that of the previously mentioned 6-year old. But apparently neither of these things are a problem for them, so with nothing better to do with my time at this point, I reluctantly agreed. Since I’m already getting tired of the stares from the kids as I walk past the school on my way to work everyday, I figured this could be a good way to get to know some of them and perhaps lessen the strangeness of my presence in this town. When I agreed, however, I didn’t realize that they wanted me to begin that very day. A group of teachers brought me into a classroom with 35 or so 11- and 12-year-olds, introduced me, and then left me there. What?! What the heck do I do now? I hadn’t planned a thing to do, nor had I rehearsed in my head how to say anything in Romanian. But I was able to think on my feet and make it through at least a half-an-hour successfully. I asked them why they want to learn English, and what topics specifically they wanted to learn. I told them a bit about myself, and asked them their names. The first four girls all said, “My name is Doina,’ and I thought, ‘great, they’re already playing jokes on me.’ But in fact, all four of them are named Doina. Excellent, easier for me. I ended, at their request, by teaching them common greetings. As terrified as I was (why do I care what 12-year-olds think of me??), I was quite proud of myself afterwards. And the next day, while returning to work after lunch, Serghei greeting me with a confident ‘good afternoon!’
There are three paved country roads leading away from my village that are good for running. One of them crests a hill and offers a spectacular view of Soroca and Ukraine across the river. The other day I was running on said road and passed an old man grazing his cows on the side of the road. He was still there as I was coming back, and as I approached I could tell he was going to speak to me. I slowed up and stopped my music, expecting a ‘what are you running from?’ or ‘aren’t you cold?’ But I heard something about ‘ran in 10 seconds,’ so being curious, I stopped. He didn’t have many teeth, so I had to really concentrate and ask him to repeat himself a lot, but apparently back in the Soviet era he used to be a great runner and train for hours every day. He said he ran a 3k in 9min 16sec. That’s pretty fast. Then he went on spouting statistics about various Olympics and who could run 100m in under 10 seconds. Then he seemed to become a bit nostalgic. Who knows who I came across that day? He could have been quite the celebrated athlete in his day. I think he was glad to see someone who appreciated running as he did. And I too was glad know that not everyone here thinks I’m crazy.
Well, that's all for now. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!
December 3, 2007
I'm Feeling More Like a Moldoveanca
I never know how I manage to get from point A to point B, but somehow I do. Here I am, exactly one year after submitting my application to the Peace Corps, an official active volunteer. I can’t believe it’s already been 11 weeks since I arrived in this country that I will call home for the next 2 years. I have had some amazing experiences and made some incredible friends during the 10 weeks of training.
Some of my favorite memories will be of four of us who have taken to the sport of ‘super-adventuring.’ Basically, this entails exploring the area surrounding our community by either walking or running, with intermittent stops to climb trees, explore caves, hike up the side of ravines, chat with locals, avoid herding sheep or stray cows, jump over ditches (with or without water), or beat each other with corn stalks. These super adventures may last anywhere from 1 to 4 hours, and common results include forehead gashes, mud-caked shoes, burr-covered spandex, and pure enjoyment of the beauty of Moldova’s land.
Getting to know our families has been a wonderful experience as well. We had an American/Moldovan dinner with all of the trainees in my village and their host families. Everybody brought a traditional dish to share, and the Moldovan families organized a few ‘challenges’ for us. The food was marvelous, although some of the American dishes didn’t turn out exactly as planned (ex. one trainee ended up with ketchup lasagna due to his inability to read the russian on what he thought was a jar of pasta sauce. It was delicious nevertheless.) My chocolate chip cookies were a big hit, of course. After dinner, elbows flew during the make-a-placinta-as-fast-as-you-can contest. This involved rolling the dough, adding the potato mixture, and properly forming the pie shape. This was followed by a shuck-the-corn-as-fast-as-you-can contest, in which I came in dead last. However, I redeemed myself when I was the winner by a long shot in the separate-the-corn-kernels-from-the-beans-as-fast-as-you-can contest. We also sewed buttons on to fabric and peeled potatos, in which I again came in last but received a consolation prize for having peeled the potato the most beautifully. The best part of these events was seeing how proud the host parents were of their respective Americans. Each Moldovan host mom wanted her American to win and some found ways to cheat and help. The games were followed by some singing and dancing. One dance was similar to musical chairs, except with partners. Couples dance until the music stops, and then everyone switches partners. The female who doesn’t find a partner has to dance with a broom until the music stops again. This ended up being quite the ego booster for the guys, as we girls fought over them so as to avoid the broom. All-in-all, the evening was a ton of fun.
A little over a month ago, some of us began taking some dance lessons in order to perform at our swearing in ceremony. The instructor was a riot, and pretty strict. Some of the gentlemen in our group had problems hopping on the beat, so he would just count really loudly over and over. And he’d run around adjusting our body parts rather firmly. Most of us were there for the sweet outfits that we got to wear at the ceremony. (See photo). At any rate, the end result was a crowd that went wild. Another cultural bonus was that the ten of us in my village also received some singing lessons. We learned a few traditional Moldovan songs and sang one of them at the ceremony, and the crowd again loved us. The best part was that I could see how proud of me my host mom was. She said I sang and danced beautifully, and we both teared up a little bit when I left for my new village.
Speaking of dancing, I finally made it to a Moldovan disco, twice in fact. Like in Austria, the party doesn’t start until well after 11 and lasts well into the wee hours. I never lasted any later than 2.30, but thoroughly enjoyed the time I was there. The Moldovans have an interesting style of dance - they keep their feet planted and kind of sway the hips and flail the arms about. I’m still working on that. The music is definitely techno, and I’m not sure if it was just at the disco in our village or if all discos are this way, but it seemed as though the dj only has about 15 songs, and they repeat after an hour or so. The girls wear short skirts with tall black boots, and the guys wear striped sweaters that are somewhat reminiscent of Cosby. Good times, good times.
As for the language, it is coming along well. I’m very comfortable with some topics, and less so with others, but I will survive. I’ve been able to start being somewhat humorous in Romanian, and locals do in fact understand what I’m saying. For example, the other day I kidded my host uncle about stealing a microwave from the kindergarten. (He was actually just borrowing it to help make the food for his daughter’s wedding the next day.) Last week we gave 20-minute presentations in pairs in Romanian, and I was able to deliver it without reading every single word off a piece of paper. I managed to find Harry Potter in Romanian, and I’m making my way through it slowly. And at the end of training I tested at the requested level in the language proficiency exam. But I have soooo far to go, because now that I am at site, I can’t speak English at all!
So pre-service training was pretty cool, and I have new amazing friends and families to help me get through the next two years. I’ve had a taste of life in Moldova, and now I’m sent off to experience it on my own. Now is when the real test begins, as I am the only American in a new village. I’ll have stories about that soon!
Some of my favorite memories will be of four of us who have taken to the sport of ‘super-adventuring.’ Basically, this entails exploring the area surrounding our community by either walking or running, with intermittent stops to climb trees, explore caves, hike up the side of ravines, chat with locals, avoid herding sheep or stray cows, jump over ditches (with or without water), or beat each other with corn stalks. These super adventures may last anywhere from 1 to 4 hours, and common results include forehead gashes, mud-caked shoes, burr-covered spandex, and pure enjoyment of the beauty of Moldova’s land.
Getting to know our families has been a wonderful experience as well. We had an American/Moldovan dinner with all of the trainees in my village and their host families. Everybody brought a traditional dish to share, and the Moldovan families organized a few ‘challenges’ for us. The food was marvelous, although some of the American dishes didn’t turn out exactly as planned (ex. one trainee ended up with ketchup lasagna due to his inability to read the russian on what he thought was a jar of pasta sauce. It was delicious nevertheless.) My chocolate chip cookies were a big hit, of course. After dinner, elbows flew during the make-a-placinta-as-fast-as-you-can contest. This involved rolling the dough, adding the potato mixture, and properly forming the pie shape. This was followed by a shuck-the-corn-as-fast-as-you-can contest, in which I came in dead last. However, I redeemed myself when I was the winner by a long shot in the separate-the-corn-kernels-from-the-beans-as-fast-as-you-can contest. We also sewed buttons on to fabric and peeled potatos, in which I again came in last but received a consolation prize for having peeled the potato the most beautifully. The best part of these events was seeing how proud the host parents were of their respective Americans. Each Moldovan host mom wanted her American to win and some found ways to cheat and help. The games were followed by some singing and dancing. One dance was similar to musical chairs, except with partners. Couples dance until the music stops, and then everyone switches partners. The female who doesn’t find a partner has to dance with a broom until the music stops again. This ended up being quite the ego booster for the guys, as we girls fought over them so as to avoid the broom. All-in-all, the evening was a ton of fun.
A little over a month ago, some of us began taking some dance lessons in order to perform at our swearing in ceremony. The instructor was a riot, and pretty strict. Some of the gentlemen in our group had problems hopping on the beat, so he would just count really loudly over and over. And he’d run around adjusting our body parts rather firmly. Most of us were there for the sweet outfits that we got to wear at the ceremony. (See photo). At any rate, the end result was a crowd that went wild. Another cultural bonus was that the ten of us in my village also received some singing lessons. We learned a few traditional Moldovan songs and sang one of them at the ceremony, and the crowd again loved us. The best part was that I could see how proud of me my host mom was. She said I sang and danced beautifully, and we both teared up a little bit when I left for my new village.
Speaking of dancing, I finally made it to a Moldovan disco, twice in fact. Like in Austria, the party doesn’t start until well after 11 and lasts well into the wee hours. I never lasted any later than 2.30, but thoroughly enjoyed the time I was there. The Moldovans have an interesting style of dance - they keep their feet planted and kind of sway the hips and flail the arms about. I’m still working on that. The music is definitely techno, and I’m not sure if it was just at the disco in our village or if all discos are this way, but it seemed as though the dj only has about 15 songs, and they repeat after an hour or so. The girls wear short skirts with tall black boots, and the guys wear striped sweaters that are somewhat reminiscent of Cosby. Good times, good times.
As for the language, it is coming along well. I’m very comfortable with some topics, and less so with others, but I will survive. I’ve been able to start being somewhat humorous in Romanian, and locals do in fact understand what I’m saying. For example, the other day I kidded my host uncle about stealing a microwave from the kindergarten. (He was actually just borrowing it to help make the food for his daughter’s wedding the next day.) Last week we gave 20-minute presentations in pairs in Romanian, and I was able to deliver it without reading every single word off a piece of paper. I managed to find Harry Potter in Romanian, and I’m making my way through it slowly. And at the end of training I tested at the requested level in the language proficiency exam. But I have soooo far to go, because now that I am at site, I can’t speak English at all!
So pre-service training was pretty cool, and I have new amazing friends and families to help me get through the next two years. I’ve had a taste of life in Moldova, and now I’m sent off to experience it on my own. Now is when the real test begins, as I am the only American in a new village. I’ll have stories about that soon!
October 28, 2007
First Impressions
Moldova is pretty sweet. The land is beautiful, with many rolling farms. I’ve spent a lot of time starting out of the window while traveling, as well as running around exploring with a few fellow trainees. I always want to see what’s over the next hill! The people here are curious and generous, and my host family is wonderful. The villages may have one or two paved roads, and the rest are dirt (or mud, currently). Some homes have running water, others draw from wells. Animals of all sorts roam the streets. It’s still a bit odd to walk out the front door and see a cow tied to the fence down the street. And cow crossings sometime stop traffic on the main highway running out of Chisinau (the capital). The rutieras, a popular method of transportation, are good for an adventure every time. They are mini-buses/large vans that pick-up and drop-off pretty much anywhere you want along a set route. In the beginning, if we managed to get one to stop, it was just as tricky to make it stop. We all would just sort of start yelling ‘aici’ (here!) when we were close to where we thought we were going. Three of us actually got a round of applause once for successfully exiting a rutiera.
I’m currently in the midst of pre-service training, a 10-week period of intensive language, technical, and safety training. There are 38 of us total, and I am with 9 others in a small village for language classes. My small group is composed of some truly great people. We giggle all the time and belly-laugh a lot. Language classes are about 4 hours each day, and the afternoons are cultural or community integration activities. We also travel to another village to come together as a large group for administrative sessions, and we’ve had a few interesting field trips. The language is coming along pretty well, and I like it a lot. I had my first test a couple of weeks ago when we all had to go visit our future work sites and meet our partners.
After just four weeks of language classes and getting used to how things work in Moldova, we were given a set of directions and a name and phone number and were expected to show up to meet this person and spend the next three days with them. No prob. With a bit of difficulty at the bus station in Chisinau, I got on the right bus toward my future home. I even managed to get off at the right place, and make my way into the town hall to find the right person. There were four women crammed into a little office half the size of my bedroom back home. And they all began speaking very quickly, in Romanian. But with some discussion, blank looks on my part, and gesturing, we were able to communicate. The organization, comprised of three of the ladies, one computer, some books, and a fax machine, is operating with the goal of developing the local economy through helping small businesses. I spent the three days eating a lot, meeting lots of people, and getting to know my new host family. (I had the choice of three families, each of whom I met for about 5 minutes, so really, it was eeny-meany-miney-moe). My host mom is an accountant and very chatty. Her husband is currently working in Czech Republic, and her daughter, who is my age, will be leaving soon to work in Turkey. I spend the entire weekend conversing, and I never spoke in English! I was pretty proud of myself, but at the end, I was exhausted. I’m not ready for that full-time yet, and I was glad to come back to my little bastion of PST and here stories from all of the other trainees.
My host mom is a fabulous cook, and she’s showed me how to make a few of the traditional moldovan dishes, like ‘placinta,’ which are pastries (more like pasties, actually) filled with potatoes, or meat, or cheese, or when I’m lucky, pumpkin. My mom also bakes bread on Saturdays, using a fire-oven. The yard is full of veggies and fruits of all kinds – broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, apples, raspberries, grapes, quince, and so much more. There are two dogs, lots of chickens and ducks, and there was a rabbit, but we ate it a couple weeks ago. I think there might be more around somewhere. There is a big cellar with two large barrels of wine a dozens of jars of pickled veggies for winter.
Last Friday I went to the sauna with my host ma and some of the ladies from the village. I got into a rather long and heated conversation (in Romanian) with two of the ladies about why I would want to come to Moldova. Based on my six weeks here, the aspect about Moldova that makes me sad is that 25 % of the population lives abroad. People don’t want to live here because it is so difficult to find good jobs. Even people with a medical degree may be better off going to do housework in Italy. Many children grow up without one or both parents because they are working abroad trying to support the family. So these women couldn’t understand why I would leave a place where I have everything to come here. And if there are one million people living abroad, what can I possibly do to make them want to come back? Of course I’m not here to solve all the problems of the whole country, and even now my job description is a little fuzzy. But for now I loving the cultural exchange.
I’ve had the great fortune of being able to attend both a cunonie, the church part of a wedding, and a nunta, the reception part, which are typically held on separate days. The orthodox ceremony is very ritualistic, involving crowns, candles, a picture of Jesus, and lots of chanting. Instead of the maid of honor there is a sponsor couple, who advises them before and during the marriage and act as godparents for the children. The nunta is much like our receptions, except a bit more lively perhaps. There is lots of yelling, lots of drinking, and tons of homemade deliciousness. I’ve also had the fortune of attending two hrams. Hram is sort of the birthday of the village, and every year the people celebrate by cooking elaborate spreads of food (we’re talking stacks of dishes on the table) and people from all over come to visit throughout the day and eat and talk. In the evening is the joc, or dance with a live band and traditional music and dancing. The main dance is the hora, in which people hold hands in circles and do different steps while moving to the right. It’s pretty easy and pretty fun, but if the circle is too small you can get dizzy quickly. Other great things about Moldova: I love the how some parts of the ‘highway’ have only three lanes total, and the middle lane goes both ways. I love how the dogs walk about the villages like they have important destinations. I love how we all wear slippers in the house all the time. I love the traditional music and dancing. I love sarmale (cabbage stuffed with a rice/meat/veggie mixture). I love how I’m used to doing my business in a hole in the ground. And I think there are many more things I will come to love over the next two years.
I’m currently in the midst of pre-service training, a 10-week period of intensive language, technical, and safety training. There are 38 of us total, and I am with 9 others in a small village for language classes. My small group is composed of some truly great people. We giggle all the time and belly-laugh a lot. Language classes are about 4 hours each day, and the afternoons are cultural or community integration activities. We also travel to another village to come together as a large group for administrative sessions, and we’ve had a few interesting field trips. The language is coming along pretty well, and I like it a lot. I had my first test a couple of weeks ago when we all had to go visit our future work sites and meet our partners.
After just four weeks of language classes and getting used to how things work in Moldova, we were given a set of directions and a name and phone number and were expected to show up to meet this person and spend the next three days with them. No prob. With a bit of difficulty at the bus station in Chisinau, I got on the right bus toward my future home. I even managed to get off at the right place, and make my way into the town hall to find the right person. There were four women crammed into a little office half the size of my bedroom back home. And they all began speaking very quickly, in Romanian. But with some discussion, blank looks on my part, and gesturing, we were able to communicate. The organization, comprised of three of the ladies, one computer, some books, and a fax machine, is operating with the goal of developing the local economy through helping small businesses. I spent the three days eating a lot, meeting lots of people, and getting to know my new host family. (I had the choice of three families, each of whom I met for about 5 minutes, so really, it was eeny-meany-miney-moe). My host mom is an accountant and very chatty. Her husband is currently working in Czech Republic, and her daughter, who is my age, will be leaving soon to work in Turkey. I spend the entire weekend conversing, and I never spoke in English! I was pretty proud of myself, but at the end, I was exhausted. I’m not ready for that full-time yet, and I was glad to come back to my little bastion of PST and here stories from all of the other trainees.
My host mom is a fabulous cook, and she’s showed me how to make a few of the traditional moldovan dishes, like ‘placinta,’ which are pastries (more like pasties, actually) filled with potatoes, or meat, or cheese, or when I’m lucky, pumpkin. My mom also bakes bread on Saturdays, using a fire-oven. The yard is full of veggies and fruits of all kinds – broccoli, cauliflower, cabbage, peppers, tomatoes, apples, raspberries, grapes, quince, and so much more. There are two dogs, lots of chickens and ducks, and there was a rabbit, but we ate it a couple weeks ago. I think there might be more around somewhere. There is a big cellar with two large barrels of wine a dozens of jars of pickled veggies for winter.
Last Friday I went to the sauna with my host ma and some of the ladies from the village. I got into a rather long and heated conversation (in Romanian) with two of the ladies about why I would want to come to Moldova. Based on my six weeks here, the aspect about Moldova that makes me sad is that 25 % of the population lives abroad. People don’t want to live here because it is so difficult to find good jobs. Even people with a medical degree may be better off going to do housework in Italy. Many children grow up without one or both parents because they are working abroad trying to support the family. So these women couldn’t understand why I would leave a place where I have everything to come here. And if there are one million people living abroad, what can I possibly do to make them want to come back? Of course I’m not here to solve all the problems of the whole country, and even now my job description is a little fuzzy. But for now I loving the cultural exchange.
I’ve had the great fortune of being able to attend both a cunonie, the church part of a wedding, and a nunta, the reception part, which are typically held on separate days. The orthodox ceremony is very ritualistic, involving crowns, candles, a picture of Jesus, and lots of chanting. Instead of the maid of honor there is a sponsor couple, who advises them before and during the marriage and act as godparents for the children. The nunta is much like our receptions, except a bit more lively perhaps. There is lots of yelling, lots of drinking, and tons of homemade deliciousness. I’ve also had the fortune of attending two hrams. Hram is sort of the birthday of the village, and every year the people celebrate by cooking elaborate spreads of food (we’re talking stacks of dishes on the table) and people from all over come to visit throughout the day and eat and talk. In the evening is the joc, or dance with a live band and traditional music and dancing. The main dance is the hora, in which people hold hands in circles and do different steps while moving to the right. It’s pretty easy and pretty fun, but if the circle is too small you can get dizzy quickly. Other great things about Moldova: I love the how some parts of the ‘highway’ have only three lanes total, and the middle lane goes both ways. I love how the dogs walk about the villages like they have important destinations. I love how we all wear slippers in the house all the time. I love the traditional music and dancing. I love sarmale (cabbage stuffed with a rice/meat/veggie mixture). I love how I’m used to doing my business in a hole in the ground. And I think there are many more things I will come to love over the next two years.
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