My little brother and cousin, overlooking the fields.



Taking a break from my studies to crank out a few thoughts. Don't know when I will get a chance to post, as I have no plans to venture onto public trans unless required to. I had my fill this weekend traveling to my new home for the first time.
We received our site assignments last week, and spent the weekend visiting with our possible host families. My situation was slightly different than most. First, I win the prize for most time spent in a rutiera (Moldovanesque for mini-bus), and Ididn't get any choices concerning host families.
To give you a perspective on the Rutiera experience, a little cultural eccentricity must be explained. Moldovans are not fond of breezes in vehicles. Thus, regardless of the outside temperature, or the number of souls packed into the vehicle, the windows are left closed! This of course is truly baffling to most Americans, and quite frustrating on a six-hour voyage in a rustic post-soviet transport. Especially since everyone is obviously uncomfortable. Air conditioning is a nascent concept, and even a vent rarely exists. My return to the capitol on Monday was a bit quicker, and cooler initially, as I was at the beginning of the route, and it was raining. In trade though, I was given a fragrant gentleman of significant girth as a seatmate. Luckily, I really like my village, and thus will only be traveling to the capitol when absolutely required. Those that have heard my affectionate verbiage concerning commuting will appreciate how fervent I am on this issue.
Some Moldovan kids who we met in our hub city.

Departure from the norm part two; most volunteers are given multiple families to interview and visit, eventually choosing the one who fits them best. I was informed that my familierenegadeed when they found out that a male volunteer was assigned to their village. Thus my weekend of interviews simply became an early chance to settle in.
So, after all that complaining, here are all the good parts. My village rocks, my host family seems great, and my school is progressive, well maintained, and highly rated. I havn't really figured out how I got so lucky, but lets hope my first impressions are correct.
I will be living with a single mom, and her son in the village. The have very nice home, a gaggle of animals in the yard (chickens, geese, pigs, and a cow), a lush garden, and a relatively large apple orchard for a back yard. My host mom is a Romanian teacher at the local high school, and has been a language tutor for volunteers in the past (she does not speak English though). I also think she will be my teaching partner, though I must admit that my fledgling Romanian, combined with Rutiera-lag may have created some misinterpretations. Regardless, she should be a great person to be around. She is pleasant, patient, and not smothering (a frequent challenge for some volunteers).

A little about the school. I will be a teacher in the Gymnasio, which basically has all of the grade levels excepting high school. It is a small school by American standards, with about 400 students. It is well cared for though, and seems to have a very enthusiastic faculty. Another amazing factoid is that the school is installing a gas heating system for the winter. This is huge for them, as it is not unusual to have to cancel school due to the cold, or a lack of funding for wood or coal. Even when the sobas (giant concrewoodstovesves) are running, most teachers and students wear their winter coats and hats indoors during the winter. Gas heat tends to be more efficient though, and cheaper, so there is a good chance I will be able to shed my parka for lessons, or at the very least have student whose fingers still function.

My host grandmother at her home, with fresh baked bread.

I will write more about the village when I actually have some pictures to share. I was a bit busy keeping up with the rapid-fire Romanian, and thus the camera stayed stowed in my backpack.
For now, it is back to my studies, which I am still efficiently avoiding. We have to start teaching full classes for students, IN ROMANIAN, in about three weeks, so I guess I should get back to my verb conjugations. My cousin and I were headed out to bring the cows in.
I avoided my vocab this afternoon by climbing trees to pick plums, and helping my sister make compote out of them for winter. It is actually fun work, but I only do it when I have the time outside of class. For my family, it is a part of their survival. Their life in the winter is dependent on their hard work in the summer and fall, farming and canning. This is a constant process, as things are continually coming in and out of season.
It may not make as much sense for those who have not spent time in an agrarian society, but I am learning more and more the significance of what another Peace Corps member told me about the life of Moldovans, and our perception of it, "What is quaint for us, is a hardship for them."

Homemade pickles for winter.

Our family garden in the backyard, at least part of it.