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.

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.

Help for our basketball league

Howdy folks,
Just a quick posting that I had hoped to get up a while ago. Below is a blurb about the basketball league that is organized here by PC Moldova. We have a team here in our town, and are hoping to compete when the season starts in March. As we are one of the most far flung towns in the Republic, this is a very important grant for us. Just transport for my team to the city for competition would cost ~560 lei (roughly $50). Not that bad until you consider the fact that the monthly salary for a starting teacher here is almost the same amount.
My guys have been practicing since late October, even showing up over the winter holiday break, and are really excited to compete. I believe very deeply in the value of school based athletic programs, and consider this one of the most important projects that I am involved in. I know my academic career would have been much different without the chance I had to participate. Even if you pledge $5 that is huge for us. This is almost the round trip cost of transport for one of my players. No amount is too small.
Also, if anyone is interested in donating equipment to the league, let me know. We could always use more balls, pumps, replacement nets...etc.
.Just as a side note to how these grants generally work. This program is not simply a handout to the schools. Normally the benefactors of a Peace corps Partnership grant need to contribute 25% of the cost of the program (our actual costs for the B-ball league is ~$9000.00). Communities pay an entrance fee, and also make in kind donations. This may include gym time, coaches salaries, and utilities costs for facilities. Programs such as this are created in hopes of being pilots, urging greater participation and activity creation in the future. Once it is has been shown that a program can be successful, people are more willing to start similar organizations. Keep reading for details on how to donate.

From the B-ball grant flier.

The Peace Corps Basketball program was started in 2004 with the general purpose of giving kids in grades 8-12 who do not otherwise have a chance to play organized sports a chance to play several organized basketball games. This year we have 24 boys teams and 18 girls teams signed up to play. The will to play exists, but the money for transport does not. For this reason we seek external funding; to assist with the cost. We realize this is no small feat, paying to move 420 kids around a country the size of Maine to play a few basketball games is expensive and we can’t expect any single donor to fully fund such a project. What we do ask, is that people give what they can; $10, $20 or $30 dollars toward the total project cost of $6,108. We sincerely appreciate any contribution you can offer.

How to Donate:
1. Go to www.peacecorps.gov
2. **Click on **Donate Now*** (left side of the screen)
3. **Click on **Eastern Europe and Central Asia***
4. *Scroll down to “M” for Moldova*, you should see the basketball grant there.

New Years take II

Anul nou pe vechi (The old new year).

10 year old boys, dressed in grandma drag.... this is what I was greeted with when I went to visit my old host family in the central part of the country. Sounds kind of strange until you think about what kids in the states do for Halloween. Also just like Halloween in the states, kids run around from house to house, knocking on doors and getting treats from the neighbors. There were no ghouls or vampires, just kids dressed up as “babushkas” (grandmothers) and Santa. Later on the older boys from the village came around to each house to sing, reciting wishes of health and success for the New Year. They also receive treats, but with the addition of wine and a “colacul” which is a round, braided bread used in Moldovan celebrations.
It was nice to return to my training village. After a summer of sweating it out, literally and figuratively, learning language and sitting through lectures, it is nice to return and feel obligated to do absolutely nothing, save eat and drink “vin de casa”. My spot at the table has changed, and I am sleeping in the kid’s room now, but that just kind of makes it all seem even more like home. After a summer with me as a blundering mute, my family is well trained in my idiosyncrasies, including my eating habits. Luckily, unlike during most other visits to Moldovan homes, I am not constantly pressured to gorge myself into oblivion. They know I am aware there is more food than I can ever eat, and that if I want something I just have to ask.
I get to help with the cooking and dishes without a fight (the whole “guest” thing lasts about five minutes with them), and wind up making “sarmale/galuside” (stuffed cabbage leaves, the word used for this dish as well as the pronunciation varies depending on your proximity to Ukraine or Romania). They are delicious, though I shy away from drowning them in “smintina”, the ever-popular liquidy sour cream that takes center stage in Moldovan cooking (along with sunflower oil). I also get the treat of “moshdae” and “mamaliga”, the former a simple mix of oil, vinegar, and caramelized onions with garlic, the later a semi-solid corn mush that is presented as an overturned half-dome, and then cut with string. You grab a hunk of it, smash it on your plate, and mix it with whatever else happens to be for dinner. My former host father and I are the only “moshdae” connoisseurs, and thus happily and greedily absorb most of that. It is fun now that I can actually sit and understand the conversations that are taking place around the table. The admonishments lathered upon my nine year old host brother, and the teasing of my 17 y/o host sister about boys she is interested in, and her sprucing up for the “discoteca” tonight.
It is also interesting to note that despite the fact that I can understand and talk with them now, they fall into the old habits of the summer. I am politely ignored in conversations, not at all in a rude way, just the fact that in the past I hadn’t a clue of what they were saying. My former host mother also has the habit of explaining everything about my life to visitors and family, despite the fact that I am perfectly capable of doing so. This being obvious due to the fact that she wouldn’t know any of the info if I hadn’t told her. Questions directed at me are thus handled by my public relations manager, and I just get to sit around and listen and absorb.... just like this summer.
So, I hung out at my old house, ate well, and went to visit my surrogate grandparents, whom I am convinced are the happiest people in Moldova, and despite their age, some of the most beautiful people I have encountered. It is amazing what a decent smile can do for a person, especially in a land of down turned heads and scowls. I also got to have a couple of snowball fights, wrestling matches, and sample this year’s home made wine, something that doesn’t exist in my current village, despite the relatively small geographical difference (said somewhat tongue in cheek considering the 8 hour bus ride between the two villages). My host grandfather actually had crafted a very nice house white, a far cry from the sometimes bitter, sometimes sweet, purple “red” wines that abound. The only problem was that my sampling was done at nine in the morning.
No major news to report from them except for the fact that my former host dad is just weeks away from heading off for two years to Portugal. Due to the abysmal job market, most Moldovan adults will work abroad in their lifetime, this being his 5th foray out of country. He is going legally though, and thus will be able to return for visits. It is still sad though. I finally get a chance to talk with the guy, and it ends up being very likely the last time I will talk to him. The reality of almost half the nation being abroad is something that was reconciled a long time ago in my head, but this is the first time I have known somebody on this end of the excursion. Previously I had only experienced the happy homecomings or the dull ache of somebody absent. The anticipation of someone disappearing from our lives seems the hardest part to deal with.
I took the bus ride home, and then commenced dreading the first day back at school. Not that it is that bad, I just was enjoying the partial lack of scheduling, and not having to do lesson plans. All in all though, despite my reluctance, the first week went rather well, and very quickly. Only eighteen weeks to go till summer vacation. With the temp hovering around –20 right now, I am hoping those weeks keep trucking along. “Pe curind”

Fericit Craciun!!!!

Merry Christmas everyone!!! Hope everyone is having a great day. We
here in Moldova, or at least in this specific village, are enjoying a
white Christmas, with snow still falling when we awoke.
I am hanging out with the in another village for the holiday, making the
delightful eight hour bus ride yesterday. There is an old Moldovan
adage, "How many people can you fit in a rutiera
(minibus/transport)---at least one more". Not only does this philosophy
make American college students and their telephone booth packing antics
pale in comparison, it even makes the Japanese and their white gloved
train porters seem somewhat wussy. Luckily for me though, my final two
hours of transit, spent standing on a bus, was easily the nadir of my
experience, and everything has been on the up and up since then. Upon
arrival I was greeted by my friend's host family, and whisked me off to
the Russian Baptist church. There was a kids concert there, and though
I recognized some of the tunes, my knowledge of Ruski (which includes
the words hello and cheese) was not really sufficient to understand the
Russian perspective on the birth of Christ. That experience was capped
off by an invitation to sing in English in front of 300 villagers I had
never met. Hopefully their ears survived the experience.
We then bolted home and prepped "Americanski" sugar cookies for the
kids, and started laying out Christmas eve dinner (Hawaiian pizza,
potato salad, strawberry juice, and cake---not my plan, but it worked).
After eating, we hung out with friends from the village, and had an
interesting time negotiating through three languages. My friend is one
of the few Russian speakers in Peace Corps, and thus when she is talking
with Moldovans I don't understand a thing and vice versa. It makes for
an interesting evening, and very complicated dinner conversation. The
evening was punctuated by two visits by carol singers, which fortunately
is still a large tradition in Moldova. Again, I didn't understand a
word, but it was fun to stand out on the frigid steps, handing out sugar
cookies and listening to the kids sing before bolting back inside to
warm up by the fire. We fell asleep watching movies and awoke to snow,
not too shabby if you ask me.
December 25th isn't really that big of holiday in Moldova, partially due
to the fact that this was a communist state for a long time, and part
also because many Moldovans still recognize the orthodox calendar, with
Christmas on January 7th, and New Years on January 13th. Those that do
use the new calendar typically celebrate what we know as Christmas on
the 31st. Anul Nou is when Mos Craciun (old man Christmas) comes, and
when families exchange gifts. With religion banned when the communists
took over, they simply shifted it all over six days and cut out
everything about Jesus. Thus, it was probably quite strange for
everyone to open presents and hang out around a Christmas tree. It was
all taken in stride though, and a good old American Christmas was had by
all.
The rest of today was spent lounging and visiting friends in the
village, after which we had a giant snowball fight with all the kids. I
am still hanging out in my snow pants now, as I have been banned from
removing them by the kids on the vague chance that we will head out for
another round.
All in all, I'd have to say that it has been a pretty good Christmas. I
definitely miss all of the friends and family back home, but my
surrogate families ain't too shabby. However you celebrate this time of
year, I hope you are with people you love, and had a great and peaceful day.

Two Tongues

So I just returned from visiting Crasnoarmeiscoe, a Russian village in the central part of the country (try saying the name just once, it was a real hoot trying to buy tickets at the bus station). There is another volunteer stationed there, and we gathered to celebrate her birthday over the weekend. She is one of a handful of volunteers who is trained in Russian rather than Romanian, conducting her classes and activities in the former national language. A good time was had by all, and despite the language juggling, we all were largely able to communicate with her friends and family.

Many times in Moldova I have been annoyed by the language barriers I encounter, despite the fact that I have been trained to at least stumble along in the “state language”. Typically my frustrations arise going into town to go shopping or visit the post office. More than once I have had to beg a stranger to help me translate what in the world the Russian post office lady is saying. It is also common at the piata (pronounced piatza) to have the vendors shout across the rows to ask someone to translate into “Moldovski” for me. Most everyone understands basic Romanian here, but not everyone is willing to speak it. There is a large anti-Russian sentiment among the Moldovans because of this, not only for years of occupation, but for the simple fact that Russians who have lived here in country for 20-30 years still refuse to learn or use Romanian. Logically for them, why should they...everyone speaks Russian, why learn another tongue? Since Moldova was a part of the USSR, most affairs were conducted in the “international language”. Russian nepotism kept Moldovans out of public office, and even low level government jobs were handed to Russian immigrants rather than Moldovans, and the problem worsened. Eventually this meant that any interaction with government or business services was conducted in Russian. Thus making the language a de facto necessity for residents of the republic. Thus today, everybody speaks Russian, and depending on where you live, people also speak Romanian, Turkish, & Ukrainian. My “host brother” is nearly qudralingual at age 13.

Why then are 90% of Peace Corps volunteers here trained in Romanian? Because as an nod to the Romanian ancestry of many of the country’s residents, the “Moldovan” language was re-Latinized from it’s standing Cyrillic form shortly after the country gained it’s independence (early 90s). Thus not so tacitly acknowledging the fact that Moldovans actually spoke a dialect of Romanian, a fact staunchly denied by Russian lingual scholars for many years. This was part of a USSR campaign to build a Moldovan identity apart from Romania, and further integrate Moldova into the USSR.

There is literally a 200-page book written on the subject of language and nation building in this part of the world, but I will dispense with the history lesson.

The closest US analogy that I can draw is in the south, and the rise of Spanglish in Florida, Texas, California, and other border states. This subtle mixing of two languages that eventually makes it so that the speakers forget which tongue they are using, and universally adopt the easier or perhaps more melodious version of a word for permanent usage. There are also some concepts that are easier to describe in another language, as there may be something that does not have a direct translation. Volunteers here frequently speak in Rom-English when we are together, mostly I feel because many of the words we use every day are strictly expressed in Romanian, and we find we have easier access to the vocabulary when speaking rapidly. I also find that I may go months without expressing a certain concept in English, or may have only used the Romanian version since I arrived in country. This being my first opportunity to really be immersed in a language, I am continually surprised that I don’t “translate” in my head; I merely accept the word meanings as concepts and do not hunt for their English equals.

Something similar happens with Moldovans, except that they speak Rom-Russ. Many folks don’t even realize that they are speaking in Russian until I inform them that I can’t understand a word that they are saying. In other cases people simply don’t know the Romanian word for things. I had to teach my fifth graders the Romanian word for cheese, and quite frequently my host mother/Romanian tutor sheepishly admits that she only knows how to say certain things in Russian, and she is a Romanian language and literature teacher.

I used to feel great pride in the fact that people assumed that I was from Romania, not America, foolishly believing my language and pronunciation had advanced beyond toddler stage. I now realize though, that people assume this because I speak in Romanian, not Moldovan (Rom-Russ), using Romanian accents, grammar, and vocab. The difference is so profound in my village that my program manager gave me a mandate to study language more, not because I was doing particularly bad, but because she felt it would be one of the few opportunities for my students to hear correct Romanian grammar (talk about pressure).

So onward with language we all plunge, hoping to get to the point where we don’t have to think to talk (there has got to be a jab at a certain US leader in that last phrase), and also to get to the point were we can start learning Russian as well. Not only because I want to be able to go to the post office sans escort, but because it would be nice to know just how rude my 8^th graders are being sometimes, and whether or not the lady selling bread told me to have a nice day or to go jump off a cliff (even polite Russian sounds mean to the untrained ear).

*Footnote – Crasnoarmeiscoe is a Latin alphabet translation of the Russian words for “Red Army”.......who thinks there might still be a Russian influence here????

Life

So this is a picture of the sign on the back of our hotel room door. "If there is a fire RUN!!". I found it amusing at least.

Happy belated Thanksgiving everyone! Hope you had a great day of food and family. We folks here had a big dinner at the Hotel National. All 140 volunteers gathered at the hotel, along with the Moldovan Peace Corps staff and a group of ex-pats from the embassy.
We were given one of the old kitchens in the hotel to work with, and spent two days prepping food for 200. Who had turkey, cranberry sauce (imported from the states), pumpkin pie, and all the other fixens


Turkey day shots of the kitchen that we used at the Hotel National in Chisinau. We prepped dinner for slightly over 202.

The silver lump in the foreground is one of our 10 -20lb birds. Yum!

It was definitely an experience. Not only did we have the fun and excitement of using 50 year old Soviet cook gear, we also had interesting challenge of explaining what we wanted to do, and what we needed to the Moldovan staff there (who don't speak English). You would think that this would be fairly easy, but the concept of roasting a turkey is completely foreign to them, and things like cranberry sauce are alien. They also don't really ever do buffet style dinners, thus large serving bowls are non-existent. This meant that we served up mashed potatoes for 200 in vessels slightly larger than a cereal bowl. Good times.

It really was a great dinner though, and everybody seemed to have a good time. It is the only time of the year that all the volunteers are in one place, and thus you end up meeting all the other folks that are outside of your sphere of 20 or so in your specific program. It was definitely a great surrogate for the typical US experience. Hanging out with the Peace Corps family.

Pictures of my village. One was taken during harvest season, and looks back from the former collective farm up in to the village's apple orchard and tree line alley leading into town. On the right is a fog covered view of my village before a snow storm. You can just pick out the church spires in the background.

This was after the first snowfall we had. In between classes the kids made "foot slides", skooting down the hill on tramped down snow and ice.

Our town church, which is actually a landmark of the country. On the right, a shot of one of the traditional horse carts going down the tree lined street through the center of town.

Strangely, despite the fact that my village is less than a degree of latitude from the capitol, the weather is drastically colder. Thus we have already had our share of snow and ice. This resulted in a 9 hour bus ride one night trying to get into Chisinau, and some very muddy clothes and boots. Despite some of the drawbacks, my village definitely has a Norman Rockwell quality to it when it snows. The kids take advantage to the upmost, making foot slides in between classes and having "lupte de zapada" (snowball fights). One difference though is that they make "Babe de Zapada" (snow grandmas), dressing them up in head scarves and aprons.

The horse carts also lend an old world feel. The muffled hoof clops breaking through the silence of the falling snow, and the breath of the horses encircling the drivers head as it slides back through the air.

Our profusion of lakes nearby should make things interesting once the weather turns consistently cold. I will be hanging out with the kids on the ice, hopefully avoiding breaking my tailbone.

A day in the life

So here is an “average” day for me. Wake up around 6 (ideally, 6:30-7 occasionally (normally)). Prep for the day and study a little Romanian. Around 6:30 my host mother and brother head out to feed the pigs and milk the cow. I head for the kitchen to prep breakfast. Milk on the stove for coffee, potatoes in the pan, an egg or two every now and again. Fill the lower cistern with water from the well while I’m waiting for everything to heat up. Eat with the fam around 7:45, scrape my teeth and throw on some clothes, and I’m out the door by 8:05 for my 15 minute “commute” (I walk, no horse carts or anything like that). Arrive at school and prep for classes. Today’s vocob or some crazy drawing on our homemade white boards. Four classes with 10 minute pauses in between, just enough time to sprint outside to the bathroom around the back of the school. If it is one of our short days then I stay after with my partner and plan for the week ahead. Head home by three for lunch (nope, not a typo). Prep lunch if I beat my family home, and then eat between 3&4pm. Scrub up the dishes quickly and head outside to help with whatever chores need to be done. They are pretty stubborn about letting me help with the animals, but are ok with my lugging heavy sacks of whatever to wherever it needs to go. I also have taken over as the “barbat”(man) of the house, so I do plumbing work or electrical when needed (often). I head inside whenever it gets dark and start to prep dinner, host-ma and son head for the cow. Whip up some more potatoes, maybe a cabbage salad for a treat, and read my Newsweek while waiting (our sole consistent connection to the outside world, delivered every Friday).

Eat dinner, and then fight with my host mother over who gets to do the dishes. If she wins I head to my room to study (or read more in my Newsweek). When I can start to see my breath we go ahead and start a fire in the “soba”, which is an ornate wood stove built into the wall between our rooms. Fire is lit, and I settle in for a few more verb conjugations. Around 9 or 10 my host mom pokes her head in the room and we have our Romanian lesson. Sometimes as late as midnight we finish, and she traverses the freezing hallway back to her room. If I’m lucky, and my lesson in Romanian grammar has not knocked me out (grammar is my anti-coffee), I read a little, clean up my room or try and get some writing done. In bed by midnight with my two down comforters, waiting until I see daylight again.

Now this is my “average” day, though in reality every day is different. Mondays and Thursdays I have basketball practice at the high school (I teach at the middle school), after which I head to my partner teacher’s house for planning sessions. Wednesdays I don’t have class, but have been using the time to act as tech support for the computer labs in our region, or to head to the regional center to get mail or use the Internet. In the future this will be my time to work with the hospital staff or develop a side project. Fridays are a wild card, as I have to go into Chisinau fairly frequently for meetings, and thus have most of the day absorbed by the six-hour bus ride into town. Saturdays have been used almost exclusively for working in the fields, tending our six hectares, and Sundays are split between heading into the regional center to go shopping at the “piaţa” (pronounced peeatza), and then back into the fields to finish what we can.

Pictures

Moldova 16 group shot at our swearing in ceremony.
Howdy folks, just wanted to get some pictures up while I actually had a decent internet connection. They have removed the sole internet computer in our region, and thus I am left with a 33.6 dial-up connection, not the best for photos.
We are currently on fall break, and after spending the first 4 days harvesting, I decided to head down to Chisinau to get some work done online. Time here is of the essence, thus I will do an update on life when I get back from my village, and will only put in some captions for now. Hope all is well in the states.

These are some shots from my classroom. Me explaining first aid in Romanian (very interesting), and my partner teacher leading a class discussion.

I went back to visit my first host family, and rejoined the kids going to get the cows at dusk.

Some shots from my village. Left, Dried sunflower husks from the fields, we use the oil exclusively for cooking. Right, a traditional homestead in the village. These are fairly rare now, with most people upgrading their houses after returning from abroad.




My host mother and I at a freast prepared for when the director of PC Moldova came to visit us.

Trip to the big city

So, I just realized how long it has been since I posted. Hopefully there are still a few folks out there listening, my breathless audience of 10 or so. As I always promise, I will try to post a little more often, which may actually be possible in the future. My village finally got a touch tone phone server (yes, rotary died here on Oct 17^th, 2005), and along with it the ability to access the internet......at 33.6 kbps. Slow but tolerable, and while I won’t be posting a lot of photos from the home office, I can at least put my thoughts online.

This weekend was again spent in Chisinau, though it was a bit of a departure from the typical mini vacation of discussions in English with volunteers, and a trip to the “Big” pitata centrala (central market). We volunteers were hosting a Public Health Exposition/Conference. It was a gathering of health professionals, Moldovan non-governmental organizations, and ....our students. I know this last group is a bit of a wild card, but in the vein of making our program sustainable, we are getting kids involved in public health as soon as possible. Plus, technically this is the only way they can get some solid information on “taboo” topics such as sex-ed and AIDS.

So, I dragged two of my ninth graders down to the conference to see what they would get out of it. Since we are so far away though, this entailed an overnight hotel stay (we are about a 6 hour bus ride from the capitol). I, foolishly, decided to head into the city early to get some work done and to make arrangements for the evening. This meant that I took the 10pm bus into the city, arriving at 4am. While the bus that leaves our village at 4am is comfortable, and heated, the 10pm bus is not. Typically, one is able to stay on the bus and sleep until 6 or so, and then depart for their business in the city. It just so happened that we had a wussy bus driver, and he decided that it was sooo cold, he needed to go someplace else, and thus invited us to leave at around 4:45.

Luckily, the rest of my weekend went a little smoother. After crashing for 2 hours in the volunteer lounge at headquarters, I spent the day roaming the city on errands for my village. One trip into Chisinau costs roughly ¼ of a teacher’s monthly salary, so most folks try and take advantage of my frequent forays.

My kids arrived later in the day, and we spent the rest of the day exploring, as one of the boys had actually never been to the capitol. The other had been there for surgery when he was 9, but couldn’t remember any other occurence.

So after visiting a restaurant for the first time in their lives, and eating pizza for maybe the 3^rd time ever, we set out to find the monuments in town. It was absolutely amazing, one of the things the boys wanted to see the most was the collection of sculptures in the park of famous local writers and poets. Not only were these 14 year olds familiar with the names of all 20 or so on display, they could actually recite some of their works. I was more than slightly impressed.

Besides our nighttime run around the monuments, there was another great moment of the evening, that will stick with me for a while.

Dino, the one who had never been to the city, and who is one of the most intelligent kids in his class, was absolutely fascinate with the escalator we found in the old Soviet department store. After coming back down to the first level via stairs, he politely asked if he could ride up again, just because he had never done it. We were crushed to find that the system was already shut down for the night. Later on though, we found another one in a newer store, and he again begged to ride it. I almost fell down laughing watching him combine all the crazy and weird things that kids do on escalators throughout all their years growing up into three short circumnavigations. Finally, on a return trip, with some interesting gymnastics, he was chided in spitfire Russian by an old Baba (Russian for grandmother). He looked completely crestfallen, but hopefully he will keep the experience in his memory as a positive experience.

So, after an evening in the hotel, watching them savor glasses of Coco-cola like it was a fine wine, we headed off to the seminars. I spent the day taking people’s blood pressure, and explaining BMI (body mass index). Telling people they are fat tactfully is a bit difficult in English, just think what a treat it was in Romanian. The boys attended lectures on narcotics and AIDS. Hopefully their parents are progressive!!!

We snagged some great materials for our peers, I said a few words in English to the rest of the volunteers, and then we headed off into the city to catch our ride home. The car we were going home with was in need of a little repair, which was just fine our opinion as it gave us three more hours in the big city. Though the 4 hour car ride is what finally capped off our evening, it will be the three rounds of Frisbee that we played outside in unseasonably warm weather that I will prefer to remember.

Sunday was spent with the family, picking beets and carrots in the fields. Which though not really enjoyable, isn’t really that bad either. I won’t bore you with the details.....at least until next time.

Waiting for the ball to drop.

Update:
So, thus far, things will proceed as normal. I talked to my school
director, and he stated that since he had not received anything official
from the ministry of education, he wasn't planning on changing
anything. This may be permanent, or it may simply be a stay of
execution, but for now we can keep teaching in the schools. As it all
seems to be on a case-by-case basis, with each village making it's own
decision, we may never have any problems at my school......time will tell.
Otherwise, life marches on at it's slow yet hectic pace. After a week
in the capitol attending two conferences, I am glad to be at home in my
village.

Let the fun begin.

Howdy folks.
So things are getting real interesting over here for the PC health program workers. This Friday there was a meeting with the ministry of education. At this meeting, the Orthodox church announced that they disagreed with the new health curriculum, and wanted it withdrawn from the schools. After two hours of lively debate, heavily listing towards the opinion of the church, the program was stricken from the Moldovan school system as a mandatory subject. All this after officially being a subject in school for 4 weeks.
The church sited opposition to sexual education, and to informing kids about some of their freedoms in life, such as choosing your own religion. (please bear with me, as I am attempting to write this without adding my opinion.....as stated in peace corps policy). Those of you who know me, and my views on education, can guess my response these proceedings. It would run parallel to my feelings on the churches of America demanding that the theory of evolution be stricken from the curriculum. The only difference here is that rather that it being a single idea erase, it is the entire subject.
Granted, the subject may still exist in some schools in the future. The program will return to a testing phase, and each school with have the option to keep the subject. Thus, to put it simply.... If the school director decides to keep the subject, the mayor agrees with this decision, the school is able to retain a teacher for the subject, and there is a sufficient number of students who wish to still take the subject (as it is now their choice), and they have their parent's written permission-> then... this select group of students in Moldova will be able to receive education in life skills and health. For those of you wondering if this subject is at all valuable here..... I taught a lesson in hygiene last week and no one, not even my teaching partner, knew how to use dental floss, or that it even existed.
This is the current drama in Moldova for us. While I realize that this may pale in comparison to the greater problems of the world, we are grass roots workers, and we have just been uprooted.
More to follow.....

Hai la hora noastra!!

So I just got back from chaperoning a middle school dance....... I didn’t really realize that I would be chaperoning, but as I was the only adult in the building for most of the time, I guess I was in charge. Ok, so the assistant principal was out on the front porch of the school, but I was still amazed at the level of supervision that was not present. Realistically though, it wasn’t needed. The kids set up and ran the whole thing themselves, kept each other in line, and cleaned the place up when they were done. It’s amazing what a group of preteens is capable of.

Anyway, back to the awkwardness of being the lone adult/American at the weekend “disco”.

Actually it was kind of fun. I got to witness first hand the awkward slow dancing of 13 year olds. Mix that in with the fact that these kids have gone their whole lives only witnessing white people dance, and the whole evening was nothing but rap infused europop, with a little techno on the side. The highlight of this musical bouillabaisse was the “crazy frog” song. This “catchy tune” is a thumping techno remix of the theme song from Beverly Hills Cop, mixed with random interludes of the “crazy frog” making weird bleeping noises (think-Alvin from the chipmunks, on speed, having convulsions while trying to sing). Despite the fact that each reiteration (10 time in a 2 hour span) was greeted by squeals of joy (in that particular octave that only 10-14 year old girls can achieve), I will be happy to have this one quietly fade from the charts.

As I said, I did have fun. After a while I got over the “fish bowl” feeling and just had fun dancing with the kids. I was able to make a fool of myself dancing the “hora”, which is an amazingly simple traditional Moldovan circle dance, though I seem unable to grasp the oh so difficult concept of “four steps to the right, two to the left”.

Some new pictures

After spending the weekend near the Chisinau I had a few minutes to add a post to the site , but not much time to write before my bus comes. So, here are some pictures of life in my new village.

Some of the grapes outside our house. While grapes and wine are common in Moldova, they are relatively uncommon in my village. We have 5 varieties, and probably more grapes than anyone in the region. The really weird thing is that they actually taste like "Grape" flavored stuff (popsicles, cough syrup), except that they actually taste good. The grapes in the US don't taste like this. We have the common variety of white grapes you see in the store in the US, but they are less typical, and the others species tend to be sweeter and more robust.

Our new German Shepard puppy that is currently being trained to be our guardian. Three months old and ridiculously cute. He has a habit of chasing the chickens though, and eating the eggs before we can collect them.

My host mother is a Romanian language and literature teacher, as well as a fairly decent artist. This painting is on the back wall of her classroom, and is a copy of a famous painting of the Romanian poet Mehei Eminescu. He is somewhat revered here.....Like a god. I have yet to really get into his work, as I still have the vocab of a 6 year old.

Group work in my classroom with the 7th grade class. Yes I actually do have my own class, though it is a rival for most college dorm rooms as far as space goes. I guess I really can't complain though, since in do have my own room at school. As you can see, there is not a large difference in clothing for students, though track suits seem to be the all time frontrunner in favored apparel.

Back from the dead

A shot of Chisinau near the Peace Corps office. You can see the lines for the electric bus system overhead, and the old soviet style apartment buildings.

Hi folks,
Sorry it has been so long since the last update, but for those of you who still actually check the account, I will try to post with more regularity now. The is only one internet connected computer that is publicly available in my region, and close to 50,000 people, so getting time has been a bit interesting, that along with the fact that this computer is 30 minutes by car from my house.
Anyway, I am safely in my new village, and have started working in my school. I helped "repair" my school, which was an interesting process. Due to financial constraints, things are more frequently painted over rather than actually repaired. My school was built in the 60s, and is in reasonably good condition, especially now that the new heating system has been installed. The expression "everything looks perfect from far away" is perfect for describing many things in Moldova though. Every year everything in the school receives a fresh coat of paint, thus everything is "framos" (romanian for beautiful). There are some problems with this though. The major one being that all of the windows have been painted shut. Thus, you can't open the windows.....ever.....and there is no air handling system in the building. This makes my classroom somewhat fragrant. I actually have my own classroom though, which is a wonderful thing, and will make my work that much easier.
Teaching during practice school in my training village.

Tomorrow will be my first real class at my school, three classes to be more precise, completely in Romanian. Should be interesting to say the least. I did well at my end of training evaluation for language, but there is a large difference between a test and real life. Throw in the fact that the kids use incorrect grammar, talk fast, and actually speak a mix of romanina & Russian and my life gets real interesting. Hopefully it will all improve as my language does. I think I just need to get through the first six months without losing my mind.
Outside of school life is pretty darn good. My host family is great, a single mom and little brother......along with a cow, 8 pigs, 10 chickens, 4 dogs, and 7 geese. Needless to say, you always watch were you step when you are outside. My host mom is also a teacher, Romanian grammar among other things, which is great and horrible and the same time. My language will improve fairly quickly I feel, as long as I can continue to tolerate being continually corrected. Every once and a while though, a could use a quite meal without a grammar lesson.
She really does mean well though, and all other aspects of life are nearly blissful. All of the horror stories from other volunteer families simply aren't true in my house. They respect my privacy (remember there is no word for the concept of privacy in Romanian), they let me cook (unheard of for men generally), and they both speak slowly and clearly, and never seem to lose patience with my infantile language.
We spent over 12 hours harvesting potatoes yesterday, and though it was a lot of hard work, we generally laughed and had fun the whole time. We talked about life, told jokes, sang songs, and generally made the spine deforming process fairly enjoyable. I really do feel lucky to be where I am.
I will try and post again soon, hope all is well in the states, and in the rest of Moldova. My condolences to those affected by the recent storms in the southern US. I hope that the recovery effort gets a little more steam behind it and that things get cleaned up as quickly as possible.

Kids practicing gymnastics outside my school in my training village.

Buna Ziua. I snuck into the regional center today to try and get some work done, and wander around the market. We have one week left until we start teaching, so it is prime procrastination time. I am justifying the trip, by thinking that it is the only time I will have to purchase school supplies, but really I am just avoiding my work back at home. Who would have thought that writing lesson plans in a foreign language would be difficult. I will honestly say though that six weeks of study is not sufficient for drafting a sex-ed lesson in Romanian. Should be quite the chuckle fest.
Luckily this is only practice school, meaning that we are teaching real kids, but we will have other moldovan teachers in the room, evaluating our performance. This means that they will be there to reign the kids in if necessary, but they will also bear witness to the finer points of our embarrassing moments.
As you can tell, it will be a very relaxing week. All I have to do is create eight hour long lesson plans in Romanian, pass my second language examination, and create a two hour seminar to be attended by the adults in our village. Dire prediction abound amongst my fellow volunteers. I'm sure we will survive, and the humiliation will prepare us for what is to come when we actually step into "our" Moldovan classroom.

On a brighter note, or at least a less stressed out one. We had the opportunity to visit a local monastery on Saturday as part of our cultural ed classes.

Unfortunately this shot is not the greatest, as it was taken from the window of our transport on the way there, but if you look carefully, you can see the vineyards in the foreground and some distinct yellow bands in the background. Those are actually large fields of sunflowers. Sunflower oil is what is primarily (exclusively) used here for cooking, and people eat the seeds habitually. The other major agroindustry in wine making, and vineyards can be found everywhere. Almost every house has a few barrels in the basement, crafted from grapes in their backyard, and commercially the Moldovan wines are fairly well respected throughout the former USSR and eastern Europe. Just as an interesting historical side note to give an impression of the agricultural importance of this country for the former USSR; Moldova only accounted for 0.2% of the land area of the USSR, but provided ~10% of the agricultural products for the republic when the collective farm system was at it's height of production.This is the exterior of the "Summer church", and is the grandest of the buildings as far as ornamentation, but is significantly smaller than what most Americans would conceive of. It is more than sufficient though, as there is no seating, and thus many people can be packed in while standing during the services. Apparently they stand for the entire service, which I am told lasts between 3&4 hours. Which certainly gives me a great deal of respect for their devotion to their faith. The interior of the church is highly ornamented, with frescos covering almost every surface, including the vaulted ceilings. The alter is actually behind the giant gold wall pictured below, and much of the service is conducted with the priest behind the edifice, sometimes with all of the doors completely shut. We had a short tour from one of the nuns, but much of the details of the orthodox religion still elude me, and at this point I feel I have an even less than superficial understanding.

As this site is a regional gathering point for the faithful, they are working on the construction of a Cathedral, modeled below, with the framework nearly completed at this point. It was actually kind of interesting to be standing in the church with the chants of the priest and nuns accompanied by the visage of 1950s vintage tower cranes, visible through the alter window, slowly working away on the new structure.

The construction, along with all other activities of the monastery, are completely financed by donations. A truly impressive fact, as the new Cathedral will have a capacity of 3000 worshipers, and will be completely paid for in advance (there is no credit system in Moldova, no loans or morgages). In addition to supporting the 100 nuns that live here, and maintaining the immaculate grounds, the parishioners also completely support ~60 orphans who live at the monastery in the summer time, and are sent to boarding school in the capitol for the remainder of the year.

Ok, procrastination completed. Until next time.

Howdy folks, I have exactly 2 minutes left online, so this is going to be extremely short. Life is hectic at this point, as I start teaching actual students IN ROMANIAN in 11 days. Did I mention that all of my lesson plans must be in ROMANIAN as well. Needless to say, we are all stressing big time, and deciding who to listen to. Our project manager who says we need to get more sleep, or our language teachers, who say we should never sleep. All time should be devoted to studying.

Gotta catch the bus. Here are the two pics I successfully uploaded. A map of Moldova, and a shot of my Host family.