Making banana pancakes

My life here seems to be punctuated by sprints into the capitol for meetings and events. I began my service by saying that I would need to be dragged in kicking and screaming. While this has largely remained true, I underestimated the number and strength of the hands that would be dragging me.
Thus, I am reveling in the fact that I am in the weekend straddling a span endcaped by long bus rides. For two weeks in a row I completed the ritual of getting up at 3am to catch the bus in, and I will again be venturing forth into the darkness five days from now. One may question why I am whining about the opportunity to go where there are hot showers (ok, showers), different foods, and people that speak more than two words of English. Truthfully though, I much preferred getting up at a leisurely pace, making banana/pecan pancakes, drinking non dehydrated coffee (thanks for the care packages folks), and talking with my host family till 10 in the morning. A little language studying, and then off to what will hopefully be our first Saturday basketball practice.
Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing the other Americans at the office in Chisinau, commiserating about food drowned in sunflower oil, and being nagged about why we won’t take vodka shots at school at 9am. Perhaps it is only now, due to time and monetary constraints that I am tired of the city (which can be very expensive), but I truly do enjoy the fact that I didn’t do any packing this week. I may also be in such a mood due to my adventure to my regional center yesterday, which was capped off by a return trip aboard a bus built for 20, but carrying close to 60. Sardines, in fish or human form never really smell that great, even in sub freezing temperatures.
I also may just need a break from the reality of last weekend, in which I was in the city to say goodbye to a good friend whom I realistically had just met. This past week the other volunteer living in my village decided that he had eaten enough “placinta” (no that isn’t a misspelling of birthing “leftovers”, it is the Moldovan term for the filled fried dough the constitutes 50% of our caloric load, potatoes being the other 50%). Thus, with bags packed, and goodbyes said, he hopped aboard a Boeing with its’ nose pointed towards West Virginia. Though not before we had a few excellent meals in the city, and many discussions about “Why?” and “What now?”. Thus, by breaking the piggy bank for foods you can’t get in the village, we were able to bring some form of closure to his experience, and he was able to say goodbye to the rest of the volunteers. He heads home for a few months rest before another foray to a foreign land. He leaves behind more of an impact than he is willing to accept responsibility for. “Maladets” Jay, best of luck in the future.
Though I have become accustomed to goodbyes, with the weird and transient existence I have had, I realize more and more every day the value of connections that we make, and how little in common is really necessary to start a friendship. I value very much the friends that I have made in my short time here, and am not looking forward to that final meeting in Chisinau 18 months from now.
Off to study and then play a little b-ball.