Many people have a romantic picture in their mind of 'eating with the season', becoming one with nature, planting your food and watching it grow. Well, I am here to tell you that idyllic picture you have in your head is quickly destroyed after month upon month of potatoes, cabbage and pickled vegetables during the bitter cold of winter. But, I must also tell you that is what makes the first cherries of the season taste that much sweeter. I honestly believe that the fruit I have eaten for the past couple of weeks will be the stuff I daydream about in the middle of February, something colorful, long-gone from my plate.
There is very little I love more about Moldova than being able to go out into the garden after work and picking a bowl full of fresh strawberries.I am lucky enough to live with a really wonderful host mom who happens to have a huge garden. It is well stocked with big cherry, apple, apricot and nut trees, rows of strawberries, raspberries, tomatoes, dill, parsley, green onion, cucumber, and grapes. Currently we are enjoying the cherry tree, it's branches dipping low weighted down by the cherries, and the best strawberries I have ever eaten.
I was brought up with the understanding that fruits, berries in particular, are expensive. It was a true treat to have berries of any kind and they came in tiny cartons, and were coveted. So, I am used to eating these expensive fruits maybe once a week in the summer, and a few times in the winter. My stomach just isn't used to playing on the Moldovan level of fruit consumption. Because most Americans don't have their own fruit and vegetable gardens we value fruits and vegetables in a different way than Moldovans. In Moldova, if it grows in your garden it is fair game. The seasons don't last long so when they are around you gouge yourself with the stuff.
A couple of nights ago host mom handed me a bag and asked me to go get some cherries. I was excited for this task. So, I stood beneath the big tree, tugging on the branches to reach the higher cherries and quickly filled my shopping bag. I proudly trotted back into the summer kitchen where host mom had finished cooking dinner and we sat down to our bowls of boiled potatoes and bag of cherries. She seemed pleased with my quantity of cherries, and I thought to myself, this is great, we won't need to pick more for at least another couple of days. Little did I know, host mom insisted that we finish of the entire bag of cherries at the table that night. Now, I love fruit, especially after a seemingly endless winter of gray, beige and white, but this was to the extreme. I told myself that I hadn't taken enough of an advantage of the fruit season last year, and that this year I would eat myself sick before I would refuse these beautiful morsels of sunshine. So eat myself sick is exactly what I did that night. After a giant bag of cherries was consumed by host mom and myself I had a pretty excellent stomach, did I care, nope, was I going to do it again the next night, absolutely! Fruit season comes but once a year, for these fleeting moments I will happily gorge on all the fruit I can get my hands on. I will adopt the Moldovan view on fresh fruits and eat them like they are going out of style, because well, they are!
Cheers to the cherries, Friends!
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
Mr. Jon
A couple of weeks ago I attended my host aunts birthday party. While there I met a boisterous middle-aged man who introduced himself as Domnul Ion (or Mr. Jon). He was a loud happy fellow who was curious about me and my Peace Corps service. He asked me why I hadn't been to visit him at the mayors office yet, and I had explained to him that I didn't realize there was a mayors office in the town. (Side note: I live in the county center and work for the county council, which hosts the county president, and so I was ignorant to the existence of a mayor. I know, shame on me.) He seemed nice enough and very eager for me to come meet with him. I asked him where I could find his office and he gave me the specific directions of 'the second floor'. I couldn't help but laugh at this guys opinion of himself. *How do you not know me? I'm Mr. Jon.* With a flush red face for committing such a heinous crime as to not know who this random dude was I agreed to meet him somewhere on the second floor of the mayors office the following Tuesday.
Tuesday morning rolled around, and I completely forgot about my appointment with Mr. Jon. Knowing myself all too well, I knew that I needed to get myself into that office building sometime that week or, I would be too chicken to go find this guy another time.
Thursday afternoon I worked up the courage to go looking for Mr. Jon on the second floor of the mayor's office. I walked the long hall way peeking in open doors and reading name plates on closed doors. None read, Domnul Ion. So, I stopped at one of the open doors and timidly asked a friendly looking older gentlemen if he could tell me where I could find Mr. Jon. The man looked at me blankly and asked 'which Mr. Jon?'. Great, of course there is more than one. I hesitated, and began to explain...unfortunately for me all I could remember was that he was short, middle-aged and over weight. But, since Moldovan's are relatively blunt about these things I just dove right in- 'Umm, the fat one?'. 'Yes, he is down the hall. Speak with his secretary.' ...his secretary? So, I head down the hall and find the room. Sure enough the exterior room has a desk with a older woman sitting at it. I asked if Mr. Jon was free, and that I was a volunteer who worked at the county council. She gave me the typical one over and asked me what country I was from. I told her I was a Peace Corps volunteer from the US. She told me to wait a moment while she checked with Mr. Jon. I told her, it was no trouble if he was busy I would be happy to come back another time. She ignored me. She went to the door and said "Domnul Primar, este o fata frumoasa pentru dumneavoastra". Great, so my introduction was "Mr. Mayor, there is a beautiful girl here for you." So this Mr. Jon guy was the mayor, and I blew him off on Tuesday and now was being introduced in the middle of a work day.
So, after being waved in to the office I took a seat along the wall. Mr. Jon was on the telephone. His office is large and holds a conference table that began to quickly fill up with young members of the mayor's council. My mind was racing, 'God Brittany, what did you get yourself into, he is about to have a meeting and you are sitting here looking like an idiot'. When he finally got off his phone he told one of the women sitting at the table to move and told me to come sit in the empty seat. All eyes were on me. Now, I don't mind introductions in America, where I am comfortable with my speaking skills and general competency but, in Moldova it is a whole other story. So, with my bright red face I smiled and sat down.
Mr. Mayor introduced me, saying 'Everyone, this is Brittany, she was supposed to come on Tuesday, and what is today? That's right, Thursday. Better late than never I guess. She is a volunteer from America and I want you all to know her.". Already making an impressive first impression, great job Britt. I started by apologizing to everyone for my two-day late arrival, and giving myself a very short introduction before they went around and introduced themselves to me. It ended up being a fun first meeting with all these new faces. A couple of the young women even spoke some English which was a nice surprise. Like most first meeting I was asked the standard 'are you married' question, with the follow up 'oh, you should marry so-and-so and bring him back to America'. Luckily enough for me Mr. So-and-so was sitting across the table from me and I dove into yet another awkward red-faced smile and explanation that I am actually not single.
The conversation soon shifted, much to my relief, and the Mayor was now focused on my getting him a big beautiful American flag to be hung outside in honor of our great friendship. (...That had been fostered over a night of house wine and now an awkward meeting in his office. But hey, if that doesn't say great friendship, well, what does?) I scanned his office and saw that he already had a good sized American flag hiding in the corner. I pointed it out. 'No, no, no that is not nearly grand enough to represent our friendship'. I than explained that I don't actually have the money to purchase him a big flag. In no time at all he had come up with the solution to my money problem: 'That's fine you will write your president and he will send you one'. And, with a solution like that I couldn't help but respond: 'Oh yes, well the President and I are great friends so that will work great'. ...silence... Followed by, 'Great!'. And, the joke was lost. Oh well, I tried, I did clarify that I was joking and that let out some smirks and laughter. The topic was soon changed and bottles of soda were put on the table along with a pile of biscuits and chocolate, we all became acquainted and I promised to attend an event they were throwing the following day with the British Embassy. I am glad that in the end I chose to follow through, and even though I didn't make it to the office on the agreed day I hope to keep up a relationship with the Mayor's office during the entirety of my service.
And so, that is the story of how I got to know Mr. Jon.
Tuesday morning rolled around, and I completely forgot about my appointment with Mr. Jon. Knowing myself all too well, I knew that I needed to get myself into that office building sometime that week or, I would be too chicken to go find this guy another time.
Thursday afternoon I worked up the courage to go looking for Mr. Jon on the second floor of the mayor's office. I walked the long hall way peeking in open doors and reading name plates on closed doors. None read, Domnul Ion. So, I stopped at one of the open doors and timidly asked a friendly looking older gentlemen if he could tell me where I could find Mr. Jon. The man looked at me blankly and asked 'which Mr. Jon?'. Great, of course there is more than one. I hesitated, and began to explain...unfortunately for me all I could remember was that he was short, middle-aged and over weight. But, since Moldovan's are relatively blunt about these things I just dove right in- 'Umm, the fat one?'. 'Yes, he is down the hall. Speak with his secretary.' ...his secretary? So, I head down the hall and find the room. Sure enough the exterior room has a desk with a older woman sitting at it. I asked if Mr. Jon was free, and that I was a volunteer who worked at the county council. She gave me the typical one over and asked me what country I was from. I told her I was a Peace Corps volunteer from the US. She told me to wait a moment while she checked with Mr. Jon. I told her, it was no trouble if he was busy I would be happy to come back another time. She ignored me. She went to the door and said "Domnul Primar, este o fata frumoasa pentru dumneavoastra". Great, so my introduction was "Mr. Mayor, there is a beautiful girl here for you." So this Mr. Jon guy was the mayor, and I blew him off on Tuesday and now was being introduced in the middle of a work day.
So, after being waved in to the office I took a seat along the wall. Mr. Jon was on the telephone. His office is large and holds a conference table that began to quickly fill up with young members of the mayor's council. My mind was racing, 'God Brittany, what did you get yourself into, he is about to have a meeting and you are sitting here looking like an idiot'. When he finally got off his phone he told one of the women sitting at the table to move and told me to come sit in the empty seat. All eyes were on me. Now, I don't mind introductions in America, where I am comfortable with my speaking skills and general competency but, in Moldova it is a whole other story. So, with my bright red face I smiled and sat down.
Mr. Mayor introduced me, saying 'Everyone, this is Brittany, she was supposed to come on Tuesday, and what is today? That's right, Thursday. Better late than never I guess. She is a volunteer from America and I want you all to know her.". Already making an impressive first impression, great job Britt. I started by apologizing to everyone for my two-day late arrival, and giving myself a very short introduction before they went around and introduced themselves to me. It ended up being a fun first meeting with all these new faces. A couple of the young women even spoke some English which was a nice surprise. Like most first meeting I was asked the standard 'are you married' question, with the follow up 'oh, you should marry so-and-so and bring him back to America'. Luckily enough for me Mr. So-and-so was sitting across the table from me and I dove into yet another awkward red-faced smile and explanation that I am actually not single.
The conversation soon shifted, much to my relief, and the Mayor was now focused on my getting him a big beautiful American flag to be hung outside in honor of our great friendship. (...That had been fostered over a night of house wine and now an awkward meeting in his office. But hey, if that doesn't say great friendship, well, what does?) I scanned his office and saw that he already had a good sized American flag hiding in the corner. I pointed it out. 'No, no, no that is not nearly grand enough to represent our friendship'. I than explained that I don't actually have the money to purchase him a big flag. In no time at all he had come up with the solution to my money problem: 'That's fine you will write your president and he will send you one'. And, with a solution like that I couldn't help but respond: 'Oh yes, well the President and I are great friends so that will work great'. ...silence... Followed by, 'Great!'. And, the joke was lost. Oh well, I tried, I did clarify that I was joking and that let out some smirks and laughter. The topic was soon changed and bottles of soda were put on the table along with a pile of biscuits and chocolate, we all became acquainted and I promised to attend an event they were throwing the following day with the British Embassy. I am glad that in the end I chose to follow through, and even though I didn't make it to the office on the agreed day I hope to keep up a relationship with the Mayor's office during the entirety of my service.
And so, that is the story of how I got to know Mr. Jon.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
It's a two for one: Easter(s) in Moldova
Easter (or Paste in Romanian) takes a very special form here in Eastern Europe, it is much more of a celebration than the Easter we celebrate back home. It is by far the largest holiday celebrated in Moldova and so the preparation and execution is very unique. I had the great pleasure of getting to experience all aspects of Easter in Moldova with my host family and the community.
In preparation for Easter the house gets a serious cleaning. Now, you should know that people in Moldova take great pride in their homes, these homes are almost always immaculate but, even so, they must be cleaned even more precisely for the Easter celebration. So last week I helped host mom dissemble rooms of their rugs and curtains to be washed and hung out to dry, washed the windows, the walls, the floors, the door frames, the cupboards and shelves. If it was in the house, it got cleaned. We spent entire afternoons meticulously going through each room cleaning. I have never spent so many hours ironing curtains in my life. Finally after a long week of preparation it was time to begin food preparation.
I came home from work on Friday and found host mom in the kitchen with a giant bowl full to the brim with dough waiting to be kneaded out and filled with salty sheep's cheese and baked to perfection. The next morning was no different, I found host mom out in the summer kitchen (that had also gotten the full cleaning) cooking up all kinds of delicious dishes. A sampling of the dishes includes: sarmale (grape leaves stuffed with rice, chicken, and veggies), zeama (a homemade chicken noodles soup), pergiole (ground meat patties), racetori (the infamous chicken jello), clatite (crepes filled with sweet cheese), red-dyed eggs, and of course the national dish; mamaliga (a basic dish made of cornmeal and water). Again, this is just a sampling of the many dishes we had over the long weekend. Basically, we ate well.
Besides the tradition of cleaning and making tons of food there is also the tradition of going to church for an overnight service. This part I was very interested in taking part in. Saturday night finally arrived, host mom bundled me up in layers before heading out to the monastery in the cold and rain. We drove to the Hancu monastery, a famous monastery in western Moldova.
We stood in the wind and rain with our little candles extinguishing as fast as we could get them lit. I stood silently listening to the chanting of the monks and the singing of the gathered visitors. We stayed at the Monastery all night, 11pm until 4am. It was my first time staying overnight at a church service. The large basilica on the grounds is under construction but, the under belly is complete and serves as a chamber for prayer and reflection. We found solace in this underground cathedral during the night, it was filled with pictures of saints, the space lit by the soft flickering of little candles held in sand basins beneath the portraits. It was a quiet escape from the wind and rain and cold of outside.
The time finally came to prepare for the blessing, we gathered our baskets of food and placed them to be blessed by the priest. At about 3:30am the priest came around with his bundle of branches and slapped water on our basket. What happened next I found rather funny, after standing around all night everyone was in an awful rush to get home, the moment after the priest had finished slapping water on us we grabbed our things and booked it to the car. It reminded me of the ending of a concert or sports game, that mad dash to the car to get out before everyone else has congested the exit. And so, we booked it to the car, hopped in and sped off.
When we arrived home we sat down to a big meal. Now, after not sleeping all night all I really wanted was my bed. Of course that didn't happen, instead I sat down with everyone else and ate and drank until my belly was full and my mind was fuzzy. After, I slept.
The next two days were dedicated to eating and sleeping. ...but Easter doesn't stop there.
The following weekend we celebrated memorial Easter (or Paste blajinilor in Romanian). This holiday is celebrated by going to the cemetery where family members and loved ones are buried and honoring their life by sharing a big meal and having their plot blessed by the local priest. My host mom grew up in a village just outside of Nisporeni, Leuseni. So, this is the village we went to for the holiday.
The cemetery we visited was very old, more than 500 years old, it is probably the most interesting cemetery I have ever been to. It is now considered a 'closed' cemetery and so, it clearly sees less maintenance than most cemeteries in Moldova. This has allowed the forest to grow up over it and trees to have grown-in around the plots. The timing of the holiday is perfect for when the cherry trees are in blossom so the entire slope the cemetery is located on is decorated in delicate white blooms. This holiday comes from old traditions, and with each plot of graves is an old wooden table, eating with the dead has always gone head in head with the cemetery.
It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. Families clustered at old rickety tables covered in linens and food, plots covered in tulips and lit candles, big iron crosses towering over plots in some instances serving as arch-ways one must duck-under to get around, cherry trees in full blossom and birds whistling and swirling about after a long cold winter.
After a few hours of paying respects and chatting with family members we all sat down to a big meal. We all ate and drank, making toasts to the family members who have passed. Neighboring tables brought over wine, and more toasts were made in their families name. It was a really neat celebration to have been a part of, and quite easily my favorite holiday in Moldova.
Why have one Easter, when you can have two!
In preparation for Easter the house gets a serious cleaning. Now, you should know that people in Moldova take great pride in their homes, these homes are almost always immaculate but, even so, they must be cleaned even more precisely for the Easter celebration. So last week I helped host mom dissemble rooms of their rugs and curtains to be washed and hung out to dry, washed the windows, the walls, the floors, the door frames, the cupboards and shelves. If it was in the house, it got cleaned. We spent entire afternoons meticulously going through each room cleaning. I have never spent so many hours ironing curtains in my life. Finally after a long week of preparation it was time to begin food preparation.
I came home from work on Friday and found host mom in the kitchen with a giant bowl full to the brim with dough waiting to be kneaded out and filled with salty sheep's cheese and baked to perfection. The next morning was no different, I found host mom out in the summer kitchen (that had also gotten the full cleaning) cooking up all kinds of delicious dishes. A sampling of the dishes includes: sarmale (grape leaves stuffed with rice, chicken, and veggies), zeama (a homemade chicken noodles soup), pergiole (ground meat patties), racetori (the infamous chicken jello), clatite (crepes filled with sweet cheese), red-dyed eggs, and of course the national dish; mamaliga (a basic dish made of cornmeal and water). Again, this is just a sampling of the many dishes we had over the long weekend. Basically, we ate well.
Besides the tradition of cleaning and making tons of food there is also the tradition of going to church for an overnight service. This part I was very interested in taking part in. Saturday night finally arrived, host mom bundled me up in layers before heading out to the monastery in the cold and rain. We drove to the Hancu monastery, a famous monastery in western Moldova.
We stood in the wind and rain with our little candles extinguishing as fast as we could get them lit. I stood silently listening to the chanting of the monks and the singing of the gathered visitors. We stayed at the Monastery all night, 11pm until 4am. It was my first time staying overnight at a church service. The large basilica on the grounds is under construction but, the under belly is complete and serves as a chamber for prayer and reflection. We found solace in this underground cathedral during the night, it was filled with pictures of saints, the space lit by the soft flickering of little candles held in sand basins beneath the portraits. It was a quiet escape from the wind and rain and cold of outside.
The time finally came to prepare for the blessing, we gathered our baskets of food and placed them to be blessed by the priest. At about 3:30am the priest came around with his bundle of branches and slapped water on our basket. What happened next I found rather funny, after standing around all night everyone was in an awful rush to get home, the moment after the priest had finished slapping water on us we grabbed our things and booked it to the car. It reminded me of the ending of a concert or sports game, that mad dash to the car to get out before everyone else has congested the exit. And so, we booked it to the car, hopped in and sped off.
When we arrived home we sat down to a big meal. Now, after not sleeping all night all I really wanted was my bed. Of course that didn't happen, instead I sat down with everyone else and ate and drank until my belly was full and my mind was fuzzy. After, I slept.
The next two days were dedicated to eating and sleeping. ...but Easter doesn't stop there.
The following weekend we celebrated memorial Easter (or Paste blajinilor in Romanian). This holiday is celebrated by going to the cemetery where family members and loved ones are buried and honoring their life by sharing a big meal and having their plot blessed by the local priest. My host mom grew up in a village just outside of Nisporeni, Leuseni. So, this is the village we went to for the holiday.
The cemetery we visited was very old, more than 500 years old, it is probably the most interesting cemetery I have ever been to. It is now considered a 'closed' cemetery and so, it clearly sees less maintenance than most cemeteries in Moldova. This has allowed the forest to grow up over it and trees to have grown-in around the plots. The timing of the holiday is perfect for when the cherry trees are in blossom so the entire slope the cemetery is located on is decorated in delicate white blooms. This holiday comes from old traditions, and with each plot of graves is an old wooden table, eating with the dead has always gone head in head with the cemetery.
It was truly a beautiful sight to behold. Families clustered at old rickety tables covered in linens and food, plots covered in tulips and lit candles, big iron crosses towering over plots in some instances serving as arch-ways one must duck-under to get around, cherry trees in full blossom and birds whistling and swirling about after a long cold winter.
After a few hours of paying respects and chatting with family members we all sat down to a big meal. We all ate and drank, making toasts to the family members who have passed. Neighboring tables brought over wine, and more toasts were made in their families name. It was a really neat celebration to have been a part of, and quite easily my favorite holiday in Moldova.
Why have one Easter, when you can have two!
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