Women's Day

Last week Moldova celebrated international women's day. Women's day is slightly different from Mother's day in the US, in that all women are celebrated on women's day. Women's day is also a considerably larger holiday than Mother's day, no one has work and women get inundated with flowers... I mean, I think the US should take some cues from Moldova on this one.

So, last week when I went to work on Wednesday I was ushered up to the presentation room for what my partner said was  'to give me a flower or something'. I asked him if my getting a flower meant that I had to give a speech. Let's just say when it comes to speaking Romanian I like to save that for my host mom, my tutor and the woman at the store selling me cookies. But, Vlad (my partner) promised me that all I would have to do is say thank you and sit there happily. Well, I could do that. So, unprepared for this little flower presentation I headed to the conference room with my very business casual jeans and sweater only to find that all the other women in the office had frumos-ified (beautified). I sat uncomfortably in the big conference room waiting for my flower so that I could get the h#(( out of that room. I knew the longer I stayed in the room the more likely I would be called out as the American, and be asked to say something in my broken Romanian so a room full of women could all give me the reaction of "oh, isn't that cute she is trying to speak our language". After everyone recieved there long-stemmed rose it was time for the 'masa' (meal) I saw this as the perfect opportunity to make my escape. I grabbed my flower and Vlad and headed for the exit. I sly slipped through the door making my way to the stair well. I had almost made my escape when the president of the county stopped me in my tracks. "Vino-ncoe!" ("Come here")..... I was caught. No escape now.

I re-entered the conference room. A series of long tables had been set up filled with food, champagne, house wine and vodka. A live band was set up on the platform stage at the front of the room and traditional Moldovan music began to come at us from all angles of the speaker system. It was looking like I was going to be able to eat a few pieces of brinza placinta (cheese filled pastry) drink a few toasts of champagne and take off. The council president made his first toast to me and my health. I said thank you, and drank. A long line of other men who work at the office came up and made toasts to me, my future husband, my future children, my future home, my future plans. To all of them, I said thank you, and drank. So, my planned five minute stay was quickly turning into a couple of hours.

Now, like any good Moldovan celebration it's only a matter of time and empty bottles until everyone begins to dance the hora. The national dance, a circle dance where dancers hold each others hands and dance around in a circle... I'm not a dancer, that is as good as you are getting as far as explanation.  At first I was able to resist the offers, "I don't know how but enjoy"...that wasn't acceptable after a few songs and so, I was swept into the circle, clicking my heels and trying my best to look like I wasn't completely lost. At the end of every song I found my way back to my seat hoping I would vanish into the wall. But, with every new song I was coerced back out into the circle that had know grown to big for the conference room and had oozed out into the corridor.

After a few more toasts of liquid courage I finally accepted my fate. I danced, and couldn't help but smile and laugh, as I could only imagine an onlooker seeing me awkwardly fumbling my feet, with my nervous sweaty palms grasping on to my unfortunate partners for dear life. One, more hopeful dance partner, clearly had not seen my messy foot work in the big circle and tried to pull me into the center of the circle, where couples had taken up posts dancing to the upbeat tempo without a care in the world, whistling and shouting out in joy. No, I am not a 'center of the circle' dancer. Everyone had already been made quite aware that I was the foreigner, I did not need the reputation of two left feet and a beet red face as well. So, I yelped out "NO!" and dragged my poor dance partner back to the circle with the other more modest dancers. When the party finally settled down, I left work with a big smile on my face. I think I'm a fan of Women's day.

I think next year I might try and dress up a bit more, and maybe work on my dance moves...

Peace, until next time!