Things I'll Miss

I have so many things that are happening in life now, and so many little stories that I want to tell, that I end up just being intimidated about posting. I am going to try and warm back up into the process by making short and quick posts rather than the sweeping epics that I always plan out in my head. Hope somebody out there is still reading....

I say "things I'll miss" because it is pretty definite that I will be leaving Moldova this summer. I could stay if I wanted, but the jokes about being the old man here are getting a bit...old, and if I stay another year I may end up being a naturalized citizen. That and one can only survive so long on zero salary. I thus am planning on being back in the states sometime in July, and I hope to start grad school in the fall. More on all that at some other time, for now I want to talk about today.

One of the things that I think I will miss the most is the "piata" (pronounced pee-ahts-uh), which is the Romanian word for market, and is something like the conception of an American farmer's market and an outdoor Wal-mart all mixed into one. Our office is not far from the city's central market, and there is a smaller market just down the road from my house. Actually, just about anywhere in the country you can find a market full of fresh fruits and vegetables, and all sorts of random household necessities.

I feel I am one of the few volunteers that has truly embraced the central piata here in Chisinua, and I know I am one of the very few that actually enjoys going there. Today I was reminded of why it makes me smile rather than stress.

First of all, you can get just about anything you could ever want (well, if it is available in country). It takes a while to get to know where everything is, and even then the place is in constant flux, so each trip is a bit of an adventure. I go so frequently though, and have been here long enough, that I feel I know exactly where to find just about whatever I want. I even have favorite vendors who know me and smile whenever I show up. My "butter lady" for example probably survives off of my baking addiction. She has to be completely baffled by the fact that the skinny, blond, America shows up to buy a kilo of butter on almost a weekly basis. She always greets me with a smile though and a few cordial words. She finally asked today if I was married, to which I explained that I did not have a wife who I kept chained to the stove, but rather I was the one using her homemade butter for banana bread and brownies (two food items that all but don't exist here). This baffled her enough for me to make my escape and finish my errands, but I will be back. Guess I will just have to bring her a sample of my wares.

I realized today how much I will miss her, and all the other folks who bid me health and wellness when I go shopping there...just for the simple fact that I am an American volunteer working in Moldova. I'll also miss the fact that I can buy a kilo of butter, a kilo of cheese, and an additional kilo each of onions, eggplant, tomatoes, yellow and red peppers, and three types of salad greens... all for under $30 (oh and zucchini and lemons too). Maybe that isn't quite the bargain I think it is, but it seemed pretty great to me.

The piata has definitely been my friend over these past three years, so I hope wherever I end up has a great farmer's market, or that I end up in a house with a few hectares behind it. So, fellow volunteers, get to know and love the paitas of Moldova, and you few stalwart Americans who still read this blog...head on down to the local farmer's market this weekend.

Surreal

I know I have been away from blogging for a bit, but I just had a surreal experience, and since I am not going to get anything substantial accomplished tonight anyway, I thought I would quickly put up a post and let you all know I am still alive.
Anyway, I just finished chatting online with my host brother. (In case I forgot to mention this previously....I left my village after extending my service and I am now working in the capitol city). This may seem fairly pedestrian (chatting online that is), but to me it is an incredible symbol of time flying by. When I arrived in my village 2.5 years ago they didn't even have touch tone phone service. I spent many a night there patiently waiting for my emails to eke through on a dial-up connection at 36k. My laptop was probably the only one in the village at that point.
Now, they are on the cusp of having DSL access (though they have been "almost ready" for almost 8 months now), the town has it's own computer lab, and there are at least 6 laptops sprinkled throughout the community due to grants and donations. Having a computer at home has become a somewhat normal, though still not a commonplace thing.
None of these are glacial changes, but it still struck me as odd as I was typing away. Part of it I think is the realization that technology is starting to catch on here while many other parts of the society and infrastructure are continuing to stagnate or are even falling behind. It is encouraging that the Moldovans will have access to high speed internet, even in the rural areas. Why though are there schools still without decent bathrooms, and hospitals that can't afford to buy rubber gloves? My current job here is focused on promoting technology usage and education, so these kind of things give me pause. Is giving them computer skills what we really should be doing?
On a brighter note, the conversation boosted my ego a bit. My host brother's skill in English has progressed to the point that he actively tries to avoid Romanian when we talk face to face or on the phone. That leaves me one less chance though to keep my language skills fresh. I don't get to use them much here in the capitol because of the large Russian influence, and the fact that I am always around English speakers. Anyway, he still feels shy about writing, and doesn't know how to type yet, so to save time we stuck to writing in Romanian....and he understood me! It is nice to know I can still write even after six months of being a city slicker.
Finally, I think our conversation made me realize how little time there is that I have left here. I delayed the inevitable goodbyes by extending for 10 months, but come summer I will be on a plane back home. I have communicated with my family and friends via the internet almost exclusively since I left the US, either with email or VOIP (skype, googletalk). The fact that communication with my host family has now migrated to the web seems like an omen, like I have already partly left Moldova.

Ce? Nu poti gasi lucru in America?

Literally translated my title means...What? You can't find work in America?

So yes, as many of you now know, yet my blog has failed to reflect over the past few months is that I am still living and working in Moldova. Still with Peace Corps, still cranking away. Why you ask (everybody else has)? Hopefully to try and open a new "branch/program/sector" of PC Moldova. Sounds kinda lofty in a way, and the more I dig into it, the more I realize that... yup, it is.

While most of the Moldovan's I talk with can't possibly imagine why I would chose to stay here and work for no money...I do actually kind of like it here. Plus it was very exciting to propose an idea and have the higher ups give you the go ahead to run with it and find out what can be done.

Some friends and I noticed that the Information Technology sector is somewhat undeveloped here, especially in rural areas. While there are some NGOs and governments giving away hardware to schools and communities, there aren't many folks out there teaching the recipients of these gifts how to actually use them. I watched this process happen in my village (along with a great many more technical abominations), and decided that perhaps we could do something about it. That and the realization that a lot of volunteers (myself included) were dabbling in technology assistance programs anyway, so why not make it something more formal.

My job, as I have understood it when I signed on, was to do a needs assessment and pilot project for a technology assistance program here in the old RM. Sometime when I have more patience I will outline how things are going so far. For now lets just say it is not what I expected, but there is hope for the future.

Just a quick update now to let folks know that I am still alive and doing well. I have moved into the capitol city, and have a quaint little pad on the outskirts. A flushing toilet and automatic heating are some of the niceties that make it seem like I am no longer a real volunteer. I feel spoiled by having my own kitchen too. (I hosted a small brunch at my place today just to celebrate the fact that such a thing is possible now)

The plan at this point is to head back to the states in early summer of 08 unless something drastic happens (ex: I get appointed ambassador). Hoping to take a month or so off and then head to grad school in the fall. I may end up coming back for interviews sometime this winter, but I haven't heard from anyone yet, so who knows. I will actually, truly, really be updating my blog from now on though, so I will be sure to let everyone know once I decide if/when I will be crossing the pond.

Hope all is well back in the states. I'll try and post something more interesting soon.
Pakah,

Blog to a blog

An interesting blog link for those who just can't get enough of Eastern Europe.

http://edwardlucas.blogspot.com/
International reporter with writings on issues in Romania, Moldova, Ukraine...etc.

la sfirsit

Yup, still alive.
Been busy as of late due to a conference I was helping with in Albania, but I have returned safely and will do my best to get some posts up about the experience there. While I was gone though, my fellow Volunteers that entered Moldova with me had their close of service contract as yes indeed we have been here for almost 2 years now and most folks will be headed back to the states very soon.
As with any good graduation ceremony there were some superlatives. Mine was read in my absence, but was delivered to my cubby at the office for my perusal.
The consensus here was that it fit me to a T, so I figured I would let the rest of you who have been inflicted with my presence over the years in on the author's creative observations.
And I quote:
Ian Spain - Most likely to---
"Sail around the world while removing his own appendix, building a motherboard out of driftwood, and reforming juvenile delinquents; serving them a 7-course meal made from scratch (lit by candles rendered from the blubber of a whale he harpooned himself) featuring fish he caught with his hands while SCUBA diving. He will then write a how-to manual describing his experiences and translate it into Romanian."

All the best to all of you out there still hanging with me on the blog. I will make no promises as to when my next post will be, but I will do my best to get some pictures up at least. I have about 15 posts in waiting.
Pakah, toate cele bun.....Ian

Ocupot dar bine

Hey folks, thought I would test out the email submission version of blogging, as I never seem to get the time to actually log into blogger's bogged down servers to do a post. I will be in the capitol this weekend so I promise I will do a photo posting and an update on life. Until then, to satisfy your insatiable curiosity about Moldova, I want to let you know about a neat little online project www.peacecorpsjournals.com . This is a directory of PC blogs worldwide, with quite a respectable showing from the crew here in Moldova. Thus, should you want to know a little bit more about a place from a grass roots perspective, check out one of the couple hundred blogs listed. Will write again soon. I promise.
Pakah

Banana (it's the same in any language, kind of)

Life has been wicked busy as of late, and I have opted to sleep during the precious free hours I have rather than do blog postings....please forgive me.

I am trying to get my feet wet again with blogging, so I thought I would do a quick and dirty cultural observation that a Moldovan brought to my attention.

“Americans eat bananas backwards”.

This has been confirmed by independent Moldovan sources who observed our apparent weirdness. In my nearly two years here I had never really noticed it, but Moldovan's typically use a fingernail to pierce the skin on the opposite end of the stem, and just go from there. Nothing radical, they don't eat the peel or anything, but they have a completely different viewpoint on opening a banana. When I tried to explain that it was much easier to open it with the stem end I was greeted with head shaking and a face full of consternation from my Moldovan cultural guide. He felt that it was much more difficult with the stem end, that the stem would break off most of the time, and that it bruised the fruit.

In my eyes of course it seems as if the stem was there just for the opening, as if by divine command a natural pull-tab had been placed there for our convenience. Nothing could dissuade him from his current method though.

I guess my thought is though, if we have such different and unchangeable ideas about how to unwrap a fruit, just imagine how the cultures differ on more complex issues.

My partner teacher and I are doing a class on abortion for our 9^th graders this week. Should be interesting.

Question Response

So, my lack of a computer meant that my posting for the basketball grant went up about two weeks too late. This does not mean that folks can't donate, it just means that I didn't leave much time for folks to donate. We are supposed to open the season the second weekend in March, thus closing the grant at the end of this month.
So, grab those credit cards and make some Moldovan teenagers happy. Really, 5 bucks is a huge contribution when multiplied by the power of many. Just like PC, this is grassroots donation...and you know exactly where the money is going.
Gotta sleep, but I will try and post tomorrow....WITH PICTURES!!!!
Pakah,
Spakoina noche,

Basketball 2007

Warning, this is a begging post.

So, one of my projects here is coaching a couple of basketball teams in my village. Due to a lack of equipment, and constantly deteriorating gym floors...oh and the fact that no one knows how to play....basketball hasn't been real popular in Moldova.
the volunteer in my village a couple of years ago got a team off the ground though, and it has grown in popularity since. I am now coaching three teams in my village, and spend just as much time on the court as in the classroom teaching health. This may seem strange to some folks, but it my opinion it is one of the most valuable things I do here. First of all it keeps a gaggle of teenage boys off the streets and out of the bars, perhaps at least slowing the process of them becomming a vodka soaked, chain smoking, bitter old man...by the age of 20. It also is a great opportunity to teach what folks in the industry refer to as "life skills". You know, those little things that make the world go round, like communication, discipline, showing up on time, anger management, teamwork, respect....the little stuff. Since a lot of these kids don't have parents at home, because they are off working illegally in another country just to put food in their mouths, there isn't a lot of parental influence, and Russian MTV and movies have an even stronger influence than they do in the states.
Anyway, the kids may not be real good at bball, but it has become their drug...which is way better than the norm of alcohol and nicotine. They show up to every practice, and actually are starting to change their behavior so that they work as a cohesive unit.
I am kinda proud since I am neither built for bball or have much experience, but they are actually catching on. (I am actually a basketball god in my village, just to give you a picture of their experience level...for a while this actually made me think I was kind of good...then I played with some other Americans).
So, those of you who are still with me...this is where the begging comes in. Peace corps has set up an online grant program that lets everyday folks contribute to community efforts in locals served by PC volunteers. Thus we can find money to support our programs without having to find a major donor. It is an idea just like PC, funding from the grass roots, and we need your help to fund a national basketball tournament that will give these kids a taste of real competition.
My village is the farthest flung in Moldova, thus we are the most expensive team to have in the league. I also have 11 boys on my senior team, thus we will be hitting the budget pretty hard this time around. If a bunch of folks will give just 5 bucks a piece though, it will make a big difference. My boys live for this competition, just the way the high school sports inspired me to show up for class every day when I was a teen. We really want to be able to give them this opportunity.
Ready to donate....if not, I will put more begging blogs up soon, I just have to get going now and get some work done. Please skip Starbucks for a day though and help us out. Here is what you need to do. (copy and paste this link into your browser)
http://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.projdetail&projdesc=261-151&region=europe
If that doesn't work, just go to www.peacecorps.gov, click on "Donate now" on the bottom left, select Eastern Europe as your region, then search for the grants in Moldova. This project is the Moldovan National Basketball League, thought there are many other worthy programs out there, and I encourage you to donate to as many as you are willing.

You can also call the Peace Corps' Washington office and donate at(800) 424-8580 ext 2170. Tell them that you want to donate to theMoldovan National Basketball League, project 261-151.
Thanks folks. We appreciate your support. Don't delay, donate today.
Will do a posting with a life update soon.

ca normal

So who didn't see that coming, my utter and complete failure to keep up with a blog marathon, starting exactly the day after I hatched such a crazy scheme. I couldn't even keep up with it for two days straight. At least now though it has only been four days and not four months like some of my past blog hiatuses.

This is definitely a good symbol for how my service feels here: lots of ideas, some of them interesting and perhaps even useful, but neither the time nor the resources to really follow up on them. Granted this is not always my fault, but my penchant for overcommitment certainly adds to my lack of check-marks in the "success" column.

I currently have a to-do list that would make and workaholic-insomniac cry. These are of course mostly self imposed tasks, and I realize that the world will go on if I fail to get everything checked off.

I was once told that I am an optimistic cynic, meaning that I feel the world is going to hell in a handbasket, but if I work really hard I might be able to save it. While in some ways I feel I am fairly realistic about my abilities, I also seem to have a genetic inability to say no to just about any request. This combined with my ADHD attention span means that I spend a lot of time completing tasks that fall into the category of "working procrastination". In other words, I take on a task, add another one halfway through, and then start another one in the midst of that.

Moldova has proved to be an environment that exacerbates this problem. Not only does just about every organization in town need help, but they need help with just about everything. There literally is enough work for six volunteers in my village, and this is just with what little I know about what is going on here. Crumbling infrastructure, schools without basic sanitation, 15 y/o computers, massive unemployment, ignorance of environmental and health issues, human trafficking, government corruption...the list goes on.

I, being the idealist that I am, have been trying to fill in all those gaps, and of course have not been successful in getting all of it done. Throw in my perpetual dash of perfectionism and you have a recipe for continual frustration.

Speaking of which, I should probably stop procrastinating and get to work. Sorry this was more of a vent session than an entry, but at least it is accurate in describing my service.

Will post again soon....no really, I promise. :-}

Pakah

Zapada lucitoara

I'm glad I know how to laugh at myself. Last night was a perfect example. I get back from basketball practice and rush through dinner with my host brother. I am rushing because I need to get to the gas station on the edge of the village by 7pm so I can get my phone back from the bus driver who found it Sunday evening after I disembarked.

I know he found it, and that I will get it back because he called my school on Monday morning to let me know. I hadn't arrived yet, so the person who answered I guess decided to let everyone know...just in case. Thus the cleaning lady stopped me on the way in to let me know, then my partner teacher told me, the school director popped in after my first class to check if I was in the loop along with three other teachers, and finally a couple of my seventh graders included a warning not to be late in their departing words on their way to lunch. I was half expecting a call from the mayor's office and the police, if only I had my cell they probably would have tried to reach me. Ah the joys of living and working in a small community.

So, I am rushing to get out the door as I don't want to miss the bus as it ambles through town, though technically there is about an hour long window in which they may arrive. I can't find my keys, and assume that I left them at the high school after practice...probably in the door, a classic thing for me to do. Thus my host brother scampers off after the spare key for my little house so I can dress more warmly for the wait on the edge of town. By the time we rouse the whole family for the search and actually locate the keys it is a bit too late, so I decide to risk it and just head out in my school clothes and parka.

I get there in plenty of time luckily, or unluckily depending on your opinion, as this means that I will simply be standing out in the cold in the windiest spot in the village.

Thankfully the guys who work there know me, and are amused eternally by talking with me, so they mercifully invite me in to chat while I wait.

We pass through the normal topics...my age, job, marital status, why I don't want to marry any of my 18 year old students (this baffles them), and are just getting into politics when the bus shows.

The driver knows me well. Not only have I done the 11 hour circuit with him innumerable times, but under his watch I have lost a variety of items... and had two laptops stolen. I have even in one case successfully placed my baggage on board the bus only to subsequently fail to be present when they left the station (I caught up with them 2 hours later). Thus, he has gone through just about every crisis with me, and barely bats an eye when he hands my Nokia back over to me. He doesn't even bother to admonish me, just gives a few accounts of folks who have called and been confused with the level of Romanian proficiency the person on the other end displayed. Thank god he is a patient individual, and one who realizes just how much money he has made off of my all too frequent forays into the capitol.

I bid him a good evening and safe travels in the worsening weather, then trudge off into the darkness on the path back home. I get back and discover my lost keys in my left back pocket (I had only checked the right). My elation is short lived though as I discover that today's cold snap has frozen the padlock on my door. Twenty minutes later I am huddled over a cheap plastic lighter trying to protect it's weak flame against the none too gentle breeze that has been sending our normally flightless domestic foul aloft all day long.

Luckily, the gods seemed to be delighted at the fact that I was still viewing my situation with mirth and let me off the hook. My lock ground open and I trudged in with my three sacks of stuff that accompany me on basketball days.

Today passed a bit more smoothly. English classes, grant reviews, computer repairs, and doing my best not to laugh at my school director who informs me that I am charged with finding $35,000 to build a bathroom for the school. I almost convince him he is ridiculous by pointing out that a complete house can be had for less than 10 grand around here, and other schools have done similar projects for less than $4000.

I get home in time to set up my fire before dinner and actually chew before running off to study Russian. The walk to my tutor's house is greatly improved by the falling temps, with the normal sea of mud a now passable layer of quasi permafrost.

The lesson goes well, but I have gone back to feeling like a linguistic idiot, bumbling through at a level of understanding and capability far below your average 2nd grader here. Thank goodness my tutor is one of the many warm and patient people I have encountered here, as I probably would have lost my mind having somebody repeat pronouns in English as many times as I have slogged through them in Russian.

My efforts in tongue calisthenics are rewarded though during my walk home. Not really directly, but I am treated to one of the best nighttime vistas in recent memory. It had stopped snowing and the moon was doing its best at drowning out the stars. There was about 2 inches of fresh undisturbed powder on the ground, and the day's persistent wind had shifted and was at my back the whole time.

I walked home through the silence and enjoyed having the village to myself for a few brief minutes. The outlines of the houses with their blinking windows clearly visable in the whitewash of the moon.

---So I realize that I haven't written in a bit....ok a good long bit. In remittance I am going to try a bit of an experiment, writing one entry per day for the next month. So many times I decide not to write because doing an entry is a long process, and thus some of the fun little tid-bits of life get overlooked. Thus, for those of you who haven't completely forgotten this web address, or simply given up on me, I am hoping to give you a bit more of a picture of everyday life here in the old Mold.

Don't forget to check out the links of my fellow PC Moldova bloggers (to the right-->). Some ain't too shabby with a keyboard, and most are more diligent with their blogs than I am.

Toate cele bun.

Glod si ceata

Pictures from our first and only snowfall in early November

So, I feel like I am living in 1500s London. The past week or so has been nothing but mud and fog. This is how fall in Moldova is, and perhaps I will be looking back on this time wistfully once the deep cold of winter sets in, but for now the impending frostiness sounds great because all the mud will freeze. I have gotten great use out of my pair of brown dress pants this week.

This is one of the great things about teaching a non-traditional subject in the schools. I only have each group of kids once a week, so if I wear the same thing it doesn't really matter. Some of the other teachers seem to do the same thing. Our Russian language teacher is known for wearing the same sweater all week, and the I have never seen the Physics teacher without his signature suit coat. It sure saves a lot of time doing laundry.

The kids do it too, based on their class schedule for the day at least. I am sitting in on Russian lessons with the fifth graders and I know exactly what each and every one of them will be wearing for Monday morning classes. They have gym class that day so they all show up in track suits., all perfectly clean and pressed, but always the same.

This is part of the winter ritual it seems. Rotating though a different sets of clothes, many of which you use every day. I have my school set, which is the most formal, though I do at least pick a different dress shirt every day. Then there are my sports clothes, which I use for bball practice in the afternoons, or when I go running. Then there are the “house clothes”, which I use once I get my wood gathered for the evening fire, and my bucket of water to heat up for my “bath”.

Basket ball practice with my 8th grade team, and an AIDS lesson in school.
Thanksgiving having just passed with all its associated craziness, it is kind of nice to have settled back into the routine of things. We did Turkey day in the capitol, with a grand gathering of all the volunteers. We rented out the ball room of one of the hotels, and borrowed their kitchens to whip up a traditional feast. With ex-pat guests from the Embassy, Moldovan PC staff, family and friends, we had quite a group. Nearly 300 this year.

I happily distracted myself in the kitchen for the day, and with a gang of others, successfully roasted up fifteen, twenty+ pound birds with all the necessary trimmings. I can still smell the garlic and cranberries in the clothes that I haven't managed to wash yet.

Other than all that excitement, things have been plugging along here like normal. We are still doing health classes in my school, and I am working on convincing my partner teacher that yes indeed she will be ready next year to go it alone. Hopefully they will keep the subject once I leave.

I am coaching basketball again as well. The program has spread to three teams this year, and hopefully will continue to grow once I manage to get some local teachers involved. We got a grant from the Embassy last year to buy some sports equipment, so the kids are much more excited about things this time around. They also finally fixed the gym floor so we don't have to worry about falling through all the time.

It really is sad to see all that they used to have here, and the condition it all is in after years of being neglected due to lack of funding. They hadn't bought new sports equipment in 6 years. It is just crazy. They don't even teach half of what is in the curriculum for many subjects, mostly because they don't have the books or the materials.

I am trying to help with all that as well, and am working with various groups to try and teach them about grant writing. It is slow going though, as most just want a hand out, and don't realize that all the villages that get funding for major projects have done so by meticulously planning and searching for aid. They are also picky about who they put in charge of things and keep an eye on where all the money goes. Corruption is a major problem, and frequently a set of text books turns into a new car for a school director or a house addition for a mayor.

Our soon to be roasted birds practice their synchronized "brining".

There was a flame written in a major publication last year about the “incredible waste” that Peace Corps represents. It stated that most of our communities would be better off just receiving the money that it costs to support a volunteer for two years. I of course was livid when I read it back then, but now see the truth in an even stronger light. Hand outs just breed dependence, and don't really teach folks how to pull themselves up from the mire. Especially here, in a post soviet country where there almost seems to be a continuing backlash against communism which prevents folks from taking part in civic projects. I really feel they do need a catalyst for the outside to spur them on to do more than complain. Plus, if a group of folks have trouble getting a grant proposal together, how are they going to get major infrastructure projects accomplished. There are certainly folks in the villages capable of the work, but on a grass roots level things are a bit lacking. Thus an organization like PC comes in to help fill in the gaps, not just in funds, but in knowledge. I can't say that we are all perfect, or that we are even successful in achieving our goals, but I feel it is a darn sight better than just throwing money at the problem.

Moldova is indeed a poor country, GDP $880.00 (the extreme poverty line is $876.00). While things are certainly better here than in Africa, rural China, and the war torn middle east, they still aren't making much progress. The sad thing is that this country isn't ahead of where it was 20 years ago. It is behind. I get ticked at Moldovans all the time for complaining about how poor they are, especially taking a look at all the things they have access to and comparing in to conditions in third world countries. I have to realize their perspective though. Twenty years ago they had street lights, paved roads, functioning hospitals, state sponsored vacations, solid educational systems, and typically a personal monthly financial excess (granted, this was partly because there was nothing to buy). Thus, it is indeed depressing to look at their crumbling infrastructure and realize what this place used to be. It wasn't perfect, but where on this planet do you really find perfection.

This point was really driven home when I went to visit a former student at his boarding school last week. His mom is a colleague of mine, and they invited me along for the trip. His school is still impressive, but not nearly what it used to be. The dorms are 1/3 full, where they used to be overflowing with international students. The “great” conditions they touted for the students wouldn't even pass health code in the states. Not a single toilet has a seat in the bathrooms, and most of the water and electrical systems looked on the verge of collapse. Everything was neat and tidy as could be, and painted over to hide the years of neglect, but a sense of sadness and loss surrounds the faculty and facilities. I'm sure he will receive a good education there, but it makes me wonder what would be possible if they had the money to really do right by their students.

Thus, I am rapidly closing in on the end of my service, and just now realizing what it is that can be done to help people find their bootstraps. Too bad we can't all realize all the truths and realities when we first arrive in country. The time remaining feels too short.

imi place

So over the past few weeks a variety of things have occurred that have ticked me off and just created a general bad mood, a specter if you will, hanging over my experience here in Moldova. I won't go into the laundry list, but rather would like to push aside the relatively few people and events that have made my life difficult, and focus instead on the things and people here that I appreciate and enjoy.
This has been on my blog "to-do" list for quite some time, and I can think of no better time but the present to reminisce about all that is good here.
One of the first things that comes to mind is the custom of saying "buna ziua", which literally means "good day". While not completely obligatory, it is standard custom to give some sort of greeting to the folks that you know while ambling through the village, and even to the folks that you don't know. Some may find it somewhat tiring or trite, but I like the idea of a social construct that makes you look even strangers in the eye, acknowledge their existence, and bid them the best in their pursuits for the day. It is a heck of a lot better than getting the middle finger from someone while driving on the highway to work.
Fresh fruits and veggies are another positive facet that comes immediately to mind. I simply cannot express how amazing it is to step out of my house to a collection of six varieties of grapes that I can nosh on. Just here at the house we have apples, pears, plums, cherries, raspberries and strawberries. I have a great memory of returning home this summer, road weary from my slog back from Chisinau, and upon entering the gate, climbing a cherry tree with my host brother and snacking away until we simply couldn't fit any more in our stomachs.
My old host family that I stayed with during training used to bring cauldrons of raspberries into the house. We are talking about 2-4 kilograms of raspberries at a time, which we would simply down by the handful.Absolutely amazing. When asked by locals to compare countries, this is one point that I frequently bring up as being a strong point for Moldova. The fruits and veggies taste 10 times better here. I simply have never had a bad tomato in Moldova, while in the states I have lost count of the number of mealy, tasteless ones I have encountered.
True, the winter and spring are a bit lacking in freshies, and that is where the American system of shipping and refrigeration triumphs. In my eyes though, that brief period of wanting just makes the summer and fall and the sweeter.
Another thing I like is the genuine small town folks who will go out of their way to help a relative stranger. I can't count the number of folks who have given me free rides into our regional center. There is one guy who doesn't even live in our village who has treated me to several "taxi" rides, not only taking me to the town where I wished to go, but to the very doorstep I was seeking. The pinnacle of generosity was witnessed in this domain a few weeks ago while I was waiting in a neighboring village, trying to hitchhike back home. A gentleman I had met merely once stopped by the side of the road to ask how life was treating me. He then turned his vehicle around and drove me back to my village for free, even though he was headed in the complete opposite direction. Some may look at this as a small favor, and true it was merely 8 kilometers, but keep in mind that gas costs the same here as in the states, and your average teachers salary is less than $1000.00 a year.
Many of the other things I find to be nice sort of depend on perspective, but are pleasant for me none the less. A good example of this is the lack of street lights in the village. While this does make things difficult sometimes, and to reflect on the cause of this is a bit sad (mostly a lack of money for the bulbs and electricity, as the fixtures are all in place, rusting relics of the soviet period). I absolutely love the fact that I can see most of the stars in the Milky Way. One could argue also that people get along just fine without buring up all the extra kilowatts. In a similar vein, it takes a very long time via public transit to get to my village, and thus to other modes of transportation. I never have to deal with the noise and pollution of such conveniences though. I heard a plane fly over our village once in the 18 months I have been in Moldova, and it dawned on me what an unusual sound it was in this setting, we simply don't have the noise pollution here that is present in the city. The air is noticeably cleaner as well.
I can wax poetic forever, as those who have been subjected to my diatribes well know, but in short, I just wanted to say that no matter what amount of "baliga" you have to wade through in life, there are always positive things to appreciate if you just take time to recognize them.

Din Picate?

Pictures from the "Swearing In" of group 18. On the left, some of the new volunteers showing up their predicesors with their dancing skills, and on the right, my fellow MC Sam and I dressed to impress.
So, I feel that volunteers go through several stages in their service. The first is the “will I make it” stage, which starts before you even leave for the country, and lasts through training and the first couple of months at your work site. During those months, you enter the “I am useless” phase, where you believe that your fledgling language skills and lack of understanding of what the heck you are doing makes you a worthless bit of US government hardware. If you convince yourself that you can make yourself useful to the folks around you, then you enter the “why isn’t everything going the way I want it” phase, where you learn all the local intricacies of getting things done, and how the pace of things differs from what we are used to in the states. Once you have gotten all that under your belt, you enter the “I hope what I am doing is useful” phase, and the “oh my god, what am I going to do after this” phase. This can be intermixed with the “I will never get all of this accomplished” phase, or the “isn’t this over yet” phase, depending on your outlook on the world and how well you get along with the folks in your village.

There are of course many other mini phases and periods, such as the “do I really have to eat this” phase, and the “it’ll be warmer tomorrow” phase, but for now my brain is processing the experience in the aforementioned groupings.

Since the whole idea of Peace Corps is to essentially make itself obsolete, we are all kind of hoping that the programs we work with and the projects we initiate will be carried on. We always talk about sustainability of a project, and whether it will exist once the volunteer or ambitious local who started it moves on. In a way we are looking for a legacy. Not really a monument in our honor, or a plaque on the wall, but at least the feeling that everything you did won’t crumble to dust or be forgotten once you hop an airplane back to the states.

Thus I had a good shot to the gut today walking home with my assistant school director, somebody that I respect, trust, and consider a friend. She wasn’t being mean or cruel, just honest, exactly how a friend should be.

She had asked me about my host mother, who is also a teacher but works at the high school. I explained that she had lost many of her teaching hours because “Health Education” wasn’t being taught this year. She didn’t seem surprised by this at all, so I made the observation that probably most schools without PC volunteers were not teaching Health Education. She disagreed at first, but I countered by questioning if she though that it would have been taught at our school if I were not working there. She acquiesced to that point, nodding that most likely it wouldn’t have been added to the schedule without my presence. I decided to go a step further, and ask what she thought about next year, after my departure. Without missing a beat she said that the course would probably be dropped. We both immediately thought of my partner teacher, who of course will be without a job, and both remembered a conversation earlier that day where she joked about going to Moscow to look for work like so many other people from our village.

Those who have kept up with this blog since the beginning (all three of you), remember perhaps the last major shot in the gut we got for our program. “Life Skills Education” was made into a core subject last year, after much struggling and effort by PC volunteers and their partner teachers amongst a variety of players. Due to objections about some of the themes touched upon in the course it was struck from the list after about a month of classes. It was temporarily reclassified as optional while they decided what to do about things, but was dumped officially at the end of the year.

This year it was re-branded as “Health Education”, and again placed on the list of optional courses. We still don’t know what the fate of the course will be, but as there are no texts, no guide, and no curriculum, there really isn’t much for folks to object to.

I of course realized that the course would not be taught in every school as it was at the beginning of last school year, but I was hoping for a majority at least. The fact that it was dropped completely at our village high school I feel is somewhat telling though, as were my assistant director’s statements.

This brings me back to those “phases” I was talking about earlier. I had hit the “never get this all accomplished” point, but now am starting a backslide into the “I hope what I am doing is useful” phase.

I do realize that I may be overreacting a bit, but the combination of my own suspicions and a friend’s candid comments wrapped things up quite nicely. There is of course the chance of a huge policy reversal, or at least the chance that the schools we work with will continue to embrace the concept even after our departure.

It begs the question though of where to spend my time and effort. Do I throw myself into a program that I suspect is soon going to come to an unceremonious end, or do I focus on all the other bits that may lead to more long-lived results.

If this were a side project it would be an easy decision, but as it is my primary work responsibility it is something rather important. Not to mention that rampant alcoholism, a high percentage of teenage smokers, alarming human trafficking rates, and a blossoming of AIDS in eastern Europe all point to the necessity of giving the kids here a bit more education than they have been receiving.

Photo of the first bell ceremony at my school. 9th grader carrying a 1st grader through the crowd ringing the ceremonial "clopeţel"

In support of fighting for the program I came here for, I have come up with two big things to keep me going. The first is the simple fact that health education has been in a state of limbo here for a number of years, and it’s acceptance has moved in fits and starts. This may just be another bump in the road. As my experience with transit here has taught me, you can survive bumps in the road, even big ones and really big ones. We never know what the next year will bring, and the better a program we can develop, and the more people we can train to do the job all the better.

Two, and this is a good catchall motivator for all my pursuits as an educator, is the fact that we don’t really ever know who we are teaching, and what they will grow up to be. So, for arguments sake, we say that health education goes out with a whimper next year. That basically means that the only effect my two years of teaching will have had will be the knowledge imparted to a couple hundred students. What if we argue even further, and say that one of our classes prevented a young girl from getting trafficked, or prevented some kids from getting AIDS in their college years. You can even fantasize that one of your kids will grow up to be the next Thomas Edison, Madelyn Albright, or Gandhi. I mean, somebody was Einstein’s math teacher in grade school. Maybe you aren’t the person that gives such a person whatever it is that makes them so special, but if a first aid lesson inspires a kid to dream about med school, then all the better.

Some might think this is a bit absurd, but I guess it falls into the philosophy of doing the best you can because you never know what the effect may be. Nothing ever got accomplished without trying, so I guess we should give it a go this year and hope for the best. At the very least I will have fun (be embarrassed) again trying to teach 7^th grade girls about puberty without the proper pronunciation and vocabulary.

Back from my writing hiatus:

Despite what many may think, summer is a busy time for school based volunteers. Yes indeed we do get a break from classes just like the kids, but that just means that our time is freed up to be consumed by all the things we couldn’t accomplish with the burdens of school hanging over us. So, after a summer camp or four, frantically running around my village chasing grants, moving to new digs, baseball practice, meetings, trainings, ceremonies, and all the other stuff, here we sit on the cusp of a new school year. (Oh, I did sneak a wee bit of a vacation in too, longest I have ever been on, and still too short).

So, before we launch into a new school year, I thought I would share a few observations I was treated to over the summer. I had actually started to write about these chance meetings and conversations several times, but life intervened and I didn’t succeed in getting it all down on paper.

Last week though, I was in Chisinau, and experienced my first truly anti-American sentiment during my time here. Typically Moldovans have been very open and welcoming, and I have received nothing but blessings and kind words when they find out, much to their surprise generally, that I am not a Romanian with bad grammar, but actually from America. True, there have been the drunken old men that insist that I am a spy working for the Pentagon, as well as the people that screw their faces up and give me the “you're nuts” look when I explain that I don’t really get a salary for working, but by and large folks have been really positive.

So the other night came as a bit of a shock when, as leaving our office building, several rowdy locals began shouting, “Yankees go home” from their apartment balcony. They mixed in a few other choice expressions that they probably picked up from the latest Adam Sandler flick, or perhaps MTV, but their chorus was fairly consistent and unwavering.

We cast it off as juvenile taunting that was more than slightly vodka infused, but it does make you think what people would say should their polite and hospitable façade be retracted.

While traveling to work in another village this summer, I had one such opportunity, though unfortunately not from an actual Moldovan. This gentleman was a missionary from Ukraine, and spoke nearly perfect English. He picked me out as America by the fact that I have a beard (very un-Moldovan), and the fact that I had a conversation in English on my cell phone before boarding the bus. He struck up a conversation, and gave me what I felt was a fairly honest dose of his opinion on Americans and on the Peace Corps.

The conversation started by his inquiring what religious sect I was on assignment for, as most outreach programs do tend to be religious based here. I explained that I wasn’t a missionary, but rather worked for a branch of the US Government. He countered, rather rapidly actually that I actually was a missionary of sorts, depending on one’s perspective, just perhaps not of the religious ilk. I had to give him that point. Despite the fact that we try to respect the values and ideas of host countries, we are still here on a primary mission to challenge the status quo, to imbue new ideas to the populace. One could argue at first that we are merely trying to teach scientific things such as AIDS prevention and agricultural techniques, but we also are doing things such as challenging gender roles, social norms, and family values. Even talking about democracy is proselytizing in the eyes of some people, depending on how far you want to take the semantic argument. We are talking about possibly changing the whole social structure, and introducing new ideas into the values system, kind of like many religions do. I don’t agree with his point of view 100%, but I can sure see where he is coming from.

As I was reeling from begin called a missionary (not that there is anything wrong with that), he tossed me another curve ball, explaining that the US was in the middle of a campaign of “empire building”, drawing correlations to the Romans, the British, and even the USSR. He argued that we Americans are not going about it in the traditional sense though, by taking over areas and enslaving the population (thank god), but rather through cultural and social takeover of the developing world. His nonchalance at this comment was somewhat heartening, as he stated that he didn’t really think that this was a bad thing, but one of those “great power, great responsibility” situations. He seemed to be very pro democracy, and was very proud to be Ukrainian, espousing many things that he felt were going well in his home country, and great consternation that the same changes had not swept across the border into Moldova.

Unfortunately I can’t do our full conversation and his observations justice due to the gap in time since this occurred, and the fact that I was staring out the window half the time trying to be sure I got off in the right place (I had never been where I was going). Generally though, it was very interesting to be given a new and rather blunt perspective on America and the imprint we are leaving on the rest of the planet in our relentless pursuit of democracy (oil?).

On a more disturbing note, I encountered a chap in the railway station while on vacation. He actually started off the conversation by asking for money. I tried the best dodge in my book by explaining, in the local language and in a mode as ungrammatically correct as possible, that I didn’t speak the local language. Unfortunately, he simply switched to English and began a rant on America, assuming at first I guess that I was British, or perhaps Australian.

I didn’t enjoy this conversation nearly as much as the insightful banter I had with the Ukrainian chap. This guy was an EU citizen, and went off on a rant on how American was a war mongering state. I nodded my partial agreement, but tried to explain that not all Americans were in support of military action in response to world troubles, and that many in fact were not in support of the chain of events that have led to the current sad state of affairs in the middle east.

Unasuaged he bantered on , warning me of the readiness of the EU states to go to war with America WHEN we invade, not IF, not “in some weird delusional alter universe there might be such a possibility”, but “WHEN”, to quote him directly. I tried countering his arguments again, with some points about economic and cultural ties, and the fact that such action would basically spell the end of the world. He was unmoved, and continued his rant, luckily momentarily drowned out by the conductors call to board my train. I politely excused myself and shimmied on out of there. Granted this guy was a bit unhinged, but one wonders about our projection to the world that would give this relatively young man such an impression, especially since he is a citizen of a country we are currently allies with, and have never been to war with. Are we really that scary that people could possibly believe that we would invade Europe?

I’ll keep you posted. Time to get back to prepping for school.

La vacanta

Well, I just realized how pathetic my blogging has been of late. I haven't posted anything in the past month or more, and I really do have stuff I wish to pass on. The main problem is that all my free time is taken up in travel. I get these great mini vacations, of 4 to 6 hours all the time, it just so happens that they are on a bus taking me somewhere in Moldova.
So, the recap.
We finished the school year with much fanfare, graduating our 9th graders. Yes they are indeed graduates, as 9th grade is the last obligatory year of school in the great MD. Most kids go on to high school or college though, or perhaps a technical school. My older host brother for example(well, not really older than me, just old enough to not be in the house) has just finished college, and will be headed off to University soon. It is a different system than the US, but seems to work just fine, giving kids more choices in their education.
Once school ended I began the summer sprint. I have been working to help the newly arrived volunteers adjust to life in Moldova, teaching health in other villages, helping out at the new summer camp in my village, and prepping for lessons for English camp, which was a blast, and all too short.
I am about to be kicked out of the computer lab where I am working, so I will sign off, but I just wanted to let everyone know, who might actually still be reading this thing, that I am still alive and kicking, and I hope to get off to a new season of pictures and posts once I get back from vacation. (Yes, I am indeed on vacation, and I actually do have my camera back...wooo hooo).

Ce să fac?

Academic Honesty is the underlying theme of the summer camp I am working at this year. Yes, a bit of a stretch I feel, even if it is an academic camp. It should be fun to try and work this into my lessons on environmentalism and health!! Maybe I can squeeze it in when I teach them arts and crafts!A random Moldova shot. Horse cart in the forgound and Mac truck in the backgroud.

Why such an esoteric theme for the time when students actually get a chance to escape from the drudgery of school? Well, because what we Americans would refer to as “cheating” is rampant here in Moldova. Even in my class, which is an optional, ungraded course, the kids talked and copied from each other during the entire end of semester quiz. They looked at me like I was nuts when I yelled at them for cheating, and then decided I was worth ignoring as my partner teacher started to give them the correct answers. So much for using the quiz as a tool to gage what they had learned.

After this delightful experience, in which I almost left the school out of protest, I let the issue drop and concluded that this was one of those cultural battles that I simply did not have the time to tackle. The chemical addictions of my 7^th graders seemed like a slightly more pressing issue. Thus I ever so pleasantly avoided the issue until it was so rudely broached in our planning sessions for our camp.

Responsibility for the camp is divided between three entities, with Peace Corps Volunteers filling a third of the counselor positions. The rest of the staff is composed of Moldovan teachers and students. Thus our “theme of the year” discussion nearly dissolved into an international incident as we Americans asserted our ever so “correct” viewpoints. I will readily admit that we were a bit boorish in our posturing, and while there is a more refined concept of academic honesty in American educational institutions, we cannot put our students up on a pedestal. Folks still cheat in American, the difference is simply that it is generally understood that it is unacceptable.

This is the important point here. For most Moldovans, cheating is not an issue of moral contempt, but rather an accepted academic tradition. Most folks in my village couldn’t even really give me a word for the concept; they simply feel that the kids are copying from each other, which isn’t really that bad in their eyes. It’s like borrowing a cup of sugar from a neighbor. I know this for a fact because the teachers help their students do it. I have seen the technology teacher download encyclopedia entries, remove the reference notations, put a student’s name at the top, and then print it off for them to turn in to another teacher. My host “mother”, whom I hold in great esteem, generally does her son’s French essays and homework. She explained that he never really was that good at it, and she doesn’t want him to get a bad grade.

Back at the camp-planning meeting, after a particularly poorly worded comment by an American, I attempted to sooth the crowd with an observation. We are essentially looking at the difference between a collectivistic society and an individualistic one. While I realize that the issue is much more complex than this, it seems like a valid point. While we the uber competitive Americans compete to be at the top and to beat our peers, the Moldovans it seems look at it more as a competition against the system. My host mother has explained that the testing schemes here are too hard for the kids, and that if teachers didn’t help them cheat, then the students would all fail. My comment that at some point this would have to happen if they wanted the system to change went completely unheeded. She thinks the system will never change no matter what they do or say, and thus they have to do what they can to overcome. It is eerie how much this is a metaphor for life in general in a formerly communist country, both in the Soviet times and the present. No matter what stage in life you are at, taking a look around, it seems like the only ones that are getting ahead are the ones who are willing to be a bit morally flexible.

While our camp-planning meeting ended on a largely positive note, one could easily sense that feelings had been hurt. The Americans were riled up, because we had finally been able to vent the frustrations we had experienced in watching our kids trounce all over our moral sensibilities, but getting no backup from the Moldovan adults, and the Moldovans were hurt because we had lambasted their educational system and children. That and I feel that it is a bit difficult to hear that what you have accepted as a norm in your life is morally reprehensible in someone else’s eyes. It should be an interesting camp experience to say the least.

Fast-forward a bit to today, and I find myself in even more of a pickle with this issue. I have discussed this topic with my host mother, chiding her a bit for her indiscretions. She knows my opinions, and she knows that the last volunteer who was here told me to run and hide on the day of the senior English exam, because they would corner me and pressure me to do the kids exams for them. Thus I had been planning to take a little vacation on that day, and as luck would have it I actually honestly can say that I am occupied, as I will be traveling to the capitol to greet the next round of incoming volunteers.

I was completely ratted out though, and I now am looked at as a prick for not being willing to show up to “help” the students of my village pass their exams. My host mother and the village English teacher think that I am just making up excuses, selfishly withholding my knowledge to the detriment of their sons and daughters. Possibly ruining their chances for getting into university. I wish I was exaggerating, but this is what I am getting from the pleading looks and muffled comments of the faculty. As corrupt as the educational system is here, as with just about any other government entity, I don’t know how much of a stretch this dire straights evaluation is. Grades are commonly bought or garnered due to political influence or a family’s social status. I have even been told by Moldovans not to trust a doctor under 40 because they probably bribed the schools to get their license, whereas older docs where subjected to the rigorous soviet educational system. A bit dated perhaps in their knowledge, but at least they studied when they were in school.

So here I am...the prick, not having a clue how to talk my way out of this one. I have explained that I feel no matter how bad the system is, we cannot as educators promote a system that tolerates cheating because we are essentially saying the you can do whatever is necessary to achieve what you want in life, even if it is dishonest. As you can imagine, my moral high ground doesn’t compete much with a mother’s vision of her child working in the fields because they couldn’t get into a good university.

You would think that it was all solved though, I will be out of town...end of story...I can’t help them cheat. That was what I thought too until I was sent what is claimed to be only some “sample” questions to prepare the kids for the test, and a phone call begging me to write up a few examples before I leave. Curious though that my study examples aren’t needed until the night before the exam. Ce să fac?

Can you see the stars?

So a warning to the parents out there with their youngins away from home, this entry is a bit bittersweet.

For the past month or so, I have been on the run every weekend, either for the basketball tourney, or for a business jaunt into Chisinau. Today I stayed in bed reading until almost 9 though, and then got up to go play in the kitchen. Split Screen Sadness by John Mayer was on repeat as I made breakfast for my host family this morning. Granted, he isn’t Lennon, but even less deified artists can sometimes hit on the perfect words for the moment. I’m a sucker for song lyrics. I don’t know how I can be so blasé about poetry in general, but hang on ever word in a good song

A little back-story before I give you the lyrics that kept my brain mulling things over all morning. My family has a great tradition of keeping track of each other in little ways. I always liked how the homepage on my parent’s computer popped up with the weather reports for the various locations of their far-flung boys. No matter where they were. My location of course constantly changing up and down the Atlantic seaboard.

Before leaving I gave them a CD with this song, and the following lyrics “I check the weather wherever you are, cause I want to know if you can see the stars tonight”.....
While I never really had the access to the internet that would permit checking up on everyone, many a night in the woods or standing on a ship, I would look up and wonder if my family and the many friends I have been so fortunate to spend time with could see the same wash of iridescent pinpricks that I was marveling at.

Maybe there is something about the stars, and the ability of their light to touch so many. I remember being constantly frustrated in college by the street lighting, and not being able to see the heavens. Perhaps the reason for my irritation was that my connection had been severed. That may be a bit to mystic a thought for most folks, but as reality is really just our own interpretation of the world around us, I like to think that this connection exists.

So, to all my friends and family, from the Pacific Northwest, to the Midwest, to the Florida Keys and on up the whole Atlantic coast, I miss every darn one of you, and I can’t wait to see you in a year and a half (or sooner should you be flying to Europe any time soon). I know I am horrible at keeping up with folks, but if you haven’t heard from me in a while that doesn’t mean you are forgotten, or any less important in my life’s history.
If need be, check out the first stars of twilight back in the states. They are the ones that are slipping towards the horizon here whenever I take the early morning bus into the capitol, or head out for my run a dawn.

Fish roe crusted peanuts!!!

Yes, you read that right, I noshed on these delectable tidbits the other day walking to basketball practice. You would assume that so haughty a gastronomic endeavor as this would be a specialty item at an expensive store in the capitol city center. Nope, the local market in the middle of my village. The same place that really only stocks TP, Mayo, Chocolate, carbonated beverages, and alcohol. The cost was only about 40 cents too, what a bargain!
I didn't really pay attention to the packaging , not that the Russian letters emblazoned in yellow would have really helped me make the split second decision between the nuts or a sack of slightly sweet cookies that have been sitting in an open box for the past.....Who knows how long.
I have been studying the Russian alphabet for the past couple of weeks, so after I inspected the strangely coated yellow gobs in the packet, I figured I would at least give reading the label a try. I thought I understood, and the taste confirmed it, they really were the delicacy they claimed to be. Good thing I like fish eggs.
I spoke in my last entry about the things that I am thankful for, and I take this concept up again for a moment this week. I am thankful for my education...and for my experiences.
They say that education is the progressive discovery of your own ignorance. I wholeheartedly agree, and put forth that life experience is the best form of education. I won't insult the numerous tombs of knowledge that I have perused in my relatively short life, but nothing like experience can really open your mind.
I never had an appreciation for being illiterate until I came here. There were times that had been exposed to foreign language, but normally it was only a fleeting encounter, and had relatively little bearing on my life. Now though, as I go grocery shopping, and search for the necessities of life, I am constantly confronted with strange tongues. Shopping here has a much more international flavor, with products coming from almost every country in Europe. Thus the sugar comes from Germany, the baking powder from Poland, and a lot of other stuff from Russia. There are labels below the products from time to time, but a lot of times they are in Russian.
Not only are the words unrecognizable, but the letters themselves are as well. You can typically decipher something that is written in German, French, Spanish...etc. Russian though is another animal, with random weird (to me) symbols, mixed with familiar symbols that don't mean the same thing as they do in Latin script. One symbol is actually described as a "martian spaceship landing". Thus it is quite a humbling experience to be an educated (moderately) person, and not have a clue what flavor the bag of chips are on the shelf. Pictures don't always describe what is actually in the package.
Equally humbling is having to get a translator when I do computer repairs, because I can't understand Cyrillic error messages. Thus this (socalled) comp whiz can't fix a darn thing without a 12 year old at my side.
Thus, through experience, I have gained a minor glimpse into the life of an illiterate adult. Something I feel I would not have understood without living abroad. I also feel I understand a bit more of how difficult a situation this can be. After a week or so of studying the alphabet, I still make a multitude of errors, and I am moderately bilingual. Imagine how it would be for someone who has never read in their entire life.
Thus thanks again for everyone who has participated in my education. Multumita tie (thanks to you)...parents, grandparents, brothers, family, friends, teachers, coworkers, students, authors, museum curators, musicians, filmmakers, random strangers....and anyone else I may have failed to mention.
Mergeti in paci.

Thankful

Cathedral and bell tower in the central park of Chisinau

First off, a big thanks to all those who came to our aid for the basketball project. We started the season this week, with our home team earning a respectable 1 and 1 record in the first day of the tournament. We certainly aren’t the best out there, but my boys played hard and they played clean. I have been harping on them all year to play by the rules, and regardless of the behavior of the other teams, and the less than perfect refereeing (we volunteers were the refs), they stuck to their word and played like gentlemen. We still have our hopes to go the championships despite the loss, and we are definitely the dark horse “country” kids, with mismatched shirts, ripped shoes, and only five on the squad that made the 3-hour journey to compete. Regardless of the outcome, we have had and will have fun. Thanks everyone again for your support. Without the donations my team wouldn’t have had the funds to make it there, and this tournament really means a lot to these boys. I will keep you posted on how we do, and will put up some pictures once I get my camera back.

As for the rest of life, it just keeps marching on. We are still waiting on spring, which is ever so slowly ambling our way. We have had two false starts thus far, the last one being last weekend when all the snow finally melted, only to be greeted on Monday morning with 8” on the ground. It snowed at least a little bit every day this week before finally turning to rain on Friday. We were teased with sun and snow today, the sky failing to make up its mind, but at least it was dry enough out to put a few clothes on the line.

This of course means that I actually did laundry this week, a major event. Only the third time this winter. I have to admit to being largely spoiled here. Despite the fact that we don’t have running water in the house, we did have a jerry-rigged washing machine. My host mother suffers from fairly constant hand pain, thus prompting her to scrimp and save a few years back to acquire a LG Automat. This modern device doubles as a counter in the kitchen, and typically had been fed by a hose connected to a cistern in the attic that we filled as needed.

When the decision was made to go whole hog and try to get running water in the house, the hoses from the cistern were severed and the water system hooked up. This lasted a week, and was subsequently destroyed with the hard winter freezes.

We only heat two rooms in the house regularly, and the “bathroom” is definately not one of them (bathrooms in a house without running water make great closets). As the water system was surface mounted there, when the –20 days started to show up the system went rock solid, with ice creaping down the lines to the pump that we thought would be safe below ground level. As I haven’t done laundry for two months, you can imagine what the fate of our pump was.

Yesterday, haveing realized that I was wearing my last t-shirt that didn’t smell completely funky, I resigned myself to a morning of prune like hands. Not a horrible experience, though not my idea of a rip roaring good time. I have certainly washed things by hand before, but normally it is a pair of socks or a dress shirt that I really need the next day. I have never really washed what one would consider a “load” of laundry by hand.

Why have I decided to absorb some of the valuable electrons and disk space of the world wide web with this wonderfully mundane information? For the simple fact that it is another chance in life where I have gotten a window into the world outside of my pampered existence.

Most Americans of my generation have largely never had to deal with the daily rigors of life that are avoided by our modern conveniences. While I have adapted fairly easily to dragging buckets of water into the house for our needs, and relying on our constantly attended fires as a sole source of heat, this really didn’t stray that far from my experience of living out of a canoe for two years. Even for my 30-day wilderness expeditions I had the chance to come back home and chuck all my soiled stuff in the machine and forget about it. Two hours plus of dragging water around, heating it, scrubbing and twisting before finally trudging out into the snow to hang stuff in the weak winter sun certainly gave me a new perspective on the term “housework”. The grayish pond that remained after my final rinse didn’t really inspire much jubilation either. I certainly have a great deal more respect for my host mother and her stories of washing all the clothes for a family of four by hand.

Thus, I have had a mini day of thanksgiving on the coattails of St. Pat’s day. I am thankful for all that I have had, what I currently have, and whatever hardships I may be blindly protected from in the future. Even though I am “going Moldovan”, I still realize what a charmed existence I am living here, with no real worries about the expenses of life, a complete sense of job security (not like I can be fired), families on both sides of the pond that take care of me, and the ability to basically meander down whatever path I feel like pursuing in the name of lending a hand to the people of my village.