The Grand Tour

The grand tour of Nisporeni (my new site) happened about a week ago. I have been living in Nisporeni for almost a month now, but have only really seen the main road that I walk each day to and from work. I was excited to get to see more of my new home.

My partner, Vlad, picked me up at my house at around 8:30pm to take me on my 'official tour'. He drives a common car in Moldova. I don't know the exact name, but it reminds me of a cross between a truck and a van. I guess it is kind of like a mail delivery vehicle in the US. Anyways, by 8:30pm the sun had long since fallen from the horizon, and with the cold nights of winter quickly approaching I was thankful he had the heat on full blast when I hopped into the passenger seat.

We zoomed off down the street, Vlad pointing out buildings of importance as I tried my best to take everything in. We passed factory after factory, Vlad explaining that all of these buildings had once been in working condition during the soviet era, but were now closed. Most of the buildings he was pointing out had been the pillars of industry and production for the region, during their prime they created jobs and exports that gave Moldova a name for itself in agricultural production in all of the Soviet Union. It was hard to believe that these run down old buildings were once the churning cog of the economy. It was hard to see the decay of what was clearly once a prosperous economic town.

Luckily for me Vlad speaks English well, and so he and I regularly have conversations in Romanian, English and sometimes both. I can't lie, I still get a kick out of the fact that we can talk in two different languages. I will ask him a question in English, he will respond in Romanian, it's entertaining ...probably not to him, but I get a weird enjoyment out of it.

I also have run into a weird phenomenon, I seem to be losing my English. I should preface this with the fact that I, in no way, have good enough Romanian to be losing any vocabulary from my native language (even that, 'native language', I had to ask for help to remember the name of). It's not usually a problem, when I am speaking with other Americans, they generally get the main idea. It becomes a problem when I am speaking with my partner and he asks me what a word is in English after we are talking about it in Romanian. My mind blanks, I know the Romanian, it makes sense, I can't remember the English. Usually I am able to say, 'It's ok, I understand', but, on the rare occasion when he says 'No, I want to know what it is in English' I sit there fumbling for the word. This happened twice on the tour. The first time we were talking about 'fabricat', Vlad asked me what the translation was, it took me way too many minutes to finally come to the word...'factory'. Anyone might find this funny, I find this utterly pathetic. Here I am, barely able to communicate coherently in Romania and I am beginning to forget basic English. Let's hope this is a temporary problem.  

The tour continued and we stopped over in one of the adjoining villages to pick up Vlad's friend. They were planning to go out to the disco after my tour. Vlad and his friend enjoyed giving me a comedic perspective of their home. We passed the locals mayors office and Vlad's friend chirped up in his rough English that we were passing the 'White House'. We all laughed and Vlad corrected him saying 'No, this is the mayors office'. Vlad's friend didn't miss a beat and replied 'No, look it's Obama's car'. He was pointing to a giant antique-looking tractor, saying 'It's a special car for our roads'. We all laughed as we bumped and rattled down the street.

A few minutes later, after politely declining their invitations to join them at the disco, I was back home. A tad car sick, but filled with significantly more information about the community I live in. And hey, now I know where the White House is!

Full of Thanks on Thanksgiving

Happy Thanksgiving! Ziua Recunostintei!

Today will mark the beginning of my first holiday season away from my family. I can't honestly say that I'm fully okay with this reality, but, this is the commitment I made when I joined the Peace Corps. I knew that I would be giving up the holiday season with my family and friends...but just like everything else, it is much easier to talk about it, than to actually be living.

Being here, in Moldova has given me a lot of free time to think. As Thanksgiving approached I naturally began to think about all the traditions I share with my family, and how much I truly love spending this time of year with all of them. Of course, no family is perfect, but when you are far from home, the idea of 'home' becomes a magical place where everyone is happy, healthy, and full of holiday cheer. At first thinking about all that I was going to be missing overwhelmed me with sadness and self pity. 'Poor me, I am all alone...' everyone has been there. But than, while sitting on a rutiera one Saturday morning, heading in to Chisinau to meet with another volunteer I realized something. I was sad that I would be missing this holiday because I have such a wonderful family. I was sad because I would be missing out on the fun. I was sad I wouldn't be able to drink too much wine with Dani and Hannah, eat too much food with Sam, talk to Lorri and Lynn about the 'new man in my life', and wake up at John and Sues' on Friday only to stumble over to Settlers Green to get 'the wicked good deals'.

I was sad because I have a wonderful family? No, that doesn't make sense... I am sad because have something to miss. I began to think about all the reasons I love my family. I began to realize just how thankful I truly am. This realization brought me to tears on that rutiera. (Yes, peace corps has turned me into an emotional sap.) Instead of thinking about how sad I was about not being with my family, I decided that it was time to give thanks for all that I do have: a family that fills my heart with more love than I could ever need.  Sure, it sucks I won't be in that little New England town celebrating with the larger-than-necessary turkey, but I know it will all be there for me when I get home.

And, even though I am away from home I am still celebrating Thanksgiving. Sure, it isn't the same, but in its own way it is exactly what it should be. A group of volunteers, whom I now call close friends, piecing together the elements of thanksgiving that make it a holiday; food, friends and much to be thankful for. Will I 'play it cool' when Skypeing with my family today, no probably not, but I will be filled with a deep thanks that I have never felt before.

Today, when my family sits down at the table for dinner they will go around in a circle and say what it is they are most thankful for. Today, I won't be seated at that table but they all should know that what I am most thankful for, more than anything else and more than ever, I am thankful for all of them.

With hopes for love and peace to you on this Thanksgiving ~

Zile de Odihnă - Weekend

First weekend at my new site, welcome to my life in Nisporeni:

Friday, after work, I decided I needed to replenish my dwindling supply of cash. I walked to the atm in town and was flustered when I realized that the atm was empty. So, I plucked up the courage and walked into the bank, knowing full well that I had the language capacity to ask for assistance. After I jumbled together a sentence and tossed my ID and atm card through the hole, the young woman behind the counter answered in English "oh, you are American?". "Da," I said, slightly thrown off by the English, and responding in Romanian. We had a short conversation, her using English, my answering in Romanian. She was curious why I was in Moldova, if I liked Moldova and for how long I would be staying. She was surprised at all of my answers. Explaining that I was in Moldova working for the Raion Council (County Office) as a Peace Corps volunteer, that I thought Moldova was beautiful, and that I would be living here for another year and a half astonished her. Her response was simple to all of these answers, "But, why?".

Everywhere I go in Moldova, people always want to know why we, peace corps volunteers, have chosen to leave the US and live in Moldova for two years of our life. Sometimes, honestly, I wonder the same thing. But then, I meet people like this bank teller, who in some small way make an impact on me and make me assured in my decision to stay here and do what I can. I'm not living in an unrealistic world, I'm not expecting to bring great change to this country, I'm just here. I'm here to be, I'm here to enter the lives of people I wouldn't have otherwise known, and maybe, if I am lucky, they will gain something from their relationship with me. I know the biggest change that I will make while in the Peace Corps is the person I will become. I just hope that a fraction of what I am able to gain is mirrored in the work that I do and the relationships that I build while I am here.

Saturday, I woke up and took my time emerging from my warm bed. You know when you find that perfect spot, you could just lie there forever. After a few cups of tea and a good chunk of my book read, I decided to find host Mom and see what she was up to. I'm always surprised at how busy Moldovan's are, working around the clock. I found her in the summer kitchen preparing soup. I asked if I could help. Usually, when you ask to help here you get a confused response. Luckily, host mom had a PC volunteer awhile back and hadn't forgotten our uncommon curiosity for how life is lived. She happily let me cut up the vegetables for the Zeama (chicken soup) and watch her make the homemade pasta. She added spices and bullion base to taste, and let me taste until we both deemed the soup 'gata' (done). She told me that she had a wedding to attend later that day, her niece was getting married. Zeama is a traditional dish, to be prepared for the morning after a wedding. After a long night of eating and drinking the soup is supposed to help one feel better, ie the Moldovan hangover cure. The soup is delicious, so any excuse to eat it I am in complete agreeance with. Host mom also shared a Moldovan saying with me, it goes-- 'Cand pregatesc zeama cu gaina de casa, zeama este mai gustoasa.' (When you prepare Zeama with a chicken from your home, it is more delicious.') I like little rhymes like this, so I found myself saying it the rest of the day.

Sunday, I met my site-mate Anita at the piata (market) in town. Sunday is the largest market of the week, so it is the best opportunity to find whatever it is ones heart desires. We poked around the different stalls. Marveling at some of the fashions we saw, both for sale and worn by some of the market-goers. We both made a few purchases. I got a sweet mug. I drink so much tea and coffee that I feel bad always occupying the largest mug in the house, I knew it was time to buy my own. And, I can't lie, it was pretty and in my budget. After the market we made a stop off at Fornetti. A bakery chain in Moldova. It is one of the few (if not only) places in town one can get hot prepared food. I decided to get to know the woman working there, since I'm sure we will be seeing each other on a frequent basis. Her name is Vera, she isn't much older than me, she seems entertained by my Romanian. I have found the more I can laugh about myself the more people will warm to me. Everyone who knows me knows I have no issue with making a fool of myself, this equates to funny looks and sometimes if I am lucky, smiles. When we had deemed our shopping trip complete I made my way to the entrance of the piata where lots of buses can be found. I asked the drivers if they would be going to the 'gara' (bus station). One friendly driver told me that he wouldn't be leaving for an hour, but that if I waited on the street a bus would come that would leave in 15 minutes. When the bus arrived I confirmed with the driver that he would be going to the gara. I waited outside the packed bus, as to not get in the way, I would be the first to get off, the bus had a destination to another village. I handed the bus driver the two lei fare, he smiled and handed it back to me. I was surprised by this kind gesture, it made my day.

So, there you have it. A peek into my weekend. I didn't include the fact that I also watched the first four Harry Potter movies, but if I haven't mentioned it before my night-life has turned into that of a shut-ins. I drink tea, watch movies off my hard drive and read. Glamorous, right?! Just another weekend in the life of a peace corps volunteer.

Be well ~

First Snow In A New Place

The first snow of the season carry's with it a bit of magic.

It's the first sign of winter, the first sign of tea and snuggling under a quilt season, the first sign that I should probably put away my sandals. It's also too early to be annoyed by the snow, too early to be put-off by the white stuff, too early to be mad at the seemingly never-ending darkness of winter.

And so, when I exited my house in Nisporeni and saw the perfect delicate little flakes falling down from an overcast sky I took in a deep breath and smiled up at the winter gods. I recently switched sites due to a number of reasons, but I have quickly fallen in love with my new town. My walk to work got a little longer, but it gives me a chance to see a good bit of town everyday as I hike down the hill to work, and back up the hill at days end. Today, on my walk, a few cars stopped asking if I would like a ride. A courtesy I would usually accept, today, I choose to pass on and instead walk in the brisk morning air, breathing in the coming of winter and watching the flittering snow flakes cascade down upon my new home.

It wasn't a long walk this morning, my thoughts buzzing about my future in this new town. The snow might not accumulate from this little wintery shower, but I know it's coming.

And this year, I choose to love the snow.

Hitch

One of the most common forms of transportation in Moldova is hitchhiking.

Now, being from the US I am in the mindset that hitching a ride is dangerous. I'm sure my family would argue that hitching a ride anywhere is dangerous. However, in Moldova it is common and almost expected of people to hitch a ride every now and again. My 'now and again' happened a couple of weeks back.

I was headed to Balti, a city in the north, to visit with a few volunteer friends. The timeline fell so that I needed to get a rutiera (mini-bus) just after 5pm. After consulting the online bus schedule (...multiple times) I settled on the 5:20pm bus. The second to last rutiera to Balti leaving that day, that way if I missed it or the tickets were all sold I could take the last rutiera at 5:40pm (see Dad, I was trying to plan ahead).

So,  I packed my bag and left my house giving myself plenty of time to walk to the station, get my ticket and sit around waiting for my ride to a fun evening. When I arrived at the station, I went to the ticket booth and asked to purchase ticket. The woman gave me a snappy response that I understood as "No, wait outside". This isn't uncommon, frequently one will buy a rutiera ticket directly from the driver rather than purchasing a ticket. So, I took my bags and sat outside next to a friendly older woman. We both sat for awhile making small talk, while I stole glances at my watch seeing the minutes pass with no rutiera in sight. Finally, at 5:45 when I had realized either both the rutieras were running uncommonly late, or the schedule online that I had planned around had been wrong, I begrudgingly walked back into the station to ask the short-tempered ticket lady if the rutiera for Balti would be arriving soon. She was clearly happy to see me again, and spat "what do you want lady?". I asked again about the rutiera to Balti and she told me "No, no more rutieras today. You will have to go wait for a car on the road." --hitchhiking?! Ummm, Brittany from little town NH doesn't hitchhike.

So, there I was in Falesti, just before 6pm, contemplating going home to an empty house and leaving the following morning, or getting up the courage to hitch the 45 minute ride to Balti. After a frantic call to my friends explaining that I didn't know if I would make it I decided that going back to an empty house was just not the way I wanted to spend my evening. I decided that I would walk back to my house, but along the way try and wave down a car. If someone stopped and I got a ride, it was meant to be, if no one stopped I would be going back to my house for the night.

First car I waved down stopped. "La Balti?" I shouted from across the street, and with a nod from the driver I was officially on my way. I hopped in the back seat. Sitting  next to me was a Baba (Grandmother) adorned in the typical outfit of  a floral dressing robe, sweater and head scarf. In the front seat was a young woman, my guess would be the drivers wife. The driver was a young man. They were a good looking family. The woman, with her gold rings and long fake finger nails, the husband with his track jacket and running shoes. The music was bumpin', I felt as if I were in a club, the techno blared out the speakers as we zoomed down the road to Balti. I was happy the music was on and loud, it meant I didn't have to make small talk. We finally pulled into Balti and they asked me where I wanted to be dropped off, it was only then that they realized I was a foreigner. I paid them what I would have paid for the rutiera; the standard fair is what is expected when you hitchhike in Moldova. I said goodbye and thanked them for the ride.

I made it to my destination, safe and sound. I had an excellent time with my friend. And, I walked down the street, feeling slightly more bad-ass than I had 50 minutes earlier.

Guess I can check that off my list of things to do.

Hitchhike in Eastern Europe, check.