Shhhhh! You are being too quiet.

Being here, in Moldova, not speaking much of the language, one would think it would be quiet. This could not be farther from the truth. Ever since I tearfully hugged my dad good bye at the airport my internal voice has not shut up. In college when you study too hard for too long, you give yourself a headache, similar situation. Inside I am babbling away. --'Oh, that's interesting' 'What is the word for how....what is it?' 'That village sounds pretty, I will have to visit' 'Oh man, I have to go to the bathroom again' 'What's the word for before' 'Stop forgetting, the ch makes the qe sound' 'If that dog attacked my right now, I would probably be the most delicious meal it has ever had' 'I think I will try to give myself a stomach ache on fresh strawberries tonight' 'What is the phrase 'No thank you, it is delicious but I am full'' --on and on it goes. Maybe before I spoke too much, maybe now I can't speak enough, maybe I'm going crazy. Who knows? Peace Corps Training (PST) is certainley not the place to find 'the peace and quiet' you have always dreamed of.

This being said it isn't necessairy a bad thing. I think my internal self is keeping my external self safe...and sane. When I find myself in a situation where I am uncomfortable I try to think of a funny Friends line to diffuse the situation. No one else will know why I am giggling to myself, but it works for me.

Often when it is quiet, to cut the silence, I whistle. Both, concious and unconciously, I tweet little diddys. Luckily for me this is one of the customs in Moldova that starkly contrasts with that of the US. At home it is completely fair game to whistle, wherever. This is not the case in Moldova. In Moldova whistling in a home, a school, or really any structure with four walls and a roof is meant to wish ill financial future to the other people in the space. Excellent. Didn't take me long to unknowingly wish this upon my new host family. When the language trainer heard me whistling one day she told me to stop. I thought she was just being grumpy, but sure enough, I was the one in the wrong, per usual. Later that evening I had a fun conversation with my host family. I think my favorite part was when I forgot the word for whistle, so naturally, I had to whistle, to show why I was apologizing. Thank goodness I have a good host family who simply believes I am the entertaining American, who is flustered by simple tasks, doesn't understand all the traditions, and can't weed a garden.

I now hum.

Peace