Well, now that it looks like the snow has begun to melt and the sun is gracing us with its presence for a few moments more with every passing day, I suppose I can now reflect on a winter in Moldova.
*Insert hopeful spring-is-coming dance here*
For those of us volunteers who come from the northern part of the US winter is not a terribly big deal, an inconvenience, yes, a big deal, puh-lease. So, I was enjoying the 'mild' winter, waiting for the dreaded snow and cold that volunteers who have lived here longer promised would come. Well, it came. It waited until February but mother nature made sure we had our fair share. I just think of her sitting up wherever it is she sits laughing her rear side off at all of us suckers having to deal with it. Thinking about it now the accumulation wasn't that great. All in all we probably got about 5 feet taking into account melting. I'm not saying five feet is a lot of snow, I'm just saying its a different sort of experience getting snow in a developing country than it is getting snow in my beloved NH. In NH, we have snow plows that happily chug along all night long making sure our drive to work is as simple and safe as possible. In Moldova, the sun is the snow plow. Driving to work in winter means going to the car 10 minutes early, starting it and blasting the heat. Walking to work in winter means bundling up in about six layers of clothes, strapping barbed webs on the bottom of ones boots before making the 2.5 mile trek to work. No, winter at home is not equal to winter in Moldova.
Some people have come up with interesting ways to deal with the cold of winter. My personal solution includes a base layer of spandex/polyester that never is removed from my body. Other volunteers have their ways of getting through a bitterly cold day. One of my favorites is a volunteer who made the smart investment of buying a Turkish heating blanket that she lied down under the sheets of her bed. She fondly refers to the blanket as her Turkish boyfriend...talk about getting hot under covers. The bus system, too has an interesting approach to heating. I was shocked when I hoped on a bus to get a ride to the station in my town and realized after I got on the bus that it was being heated by an open-flame contained fire. No, I don't think that would meet the safety regulations in the US. But hey, what says adventure more than worrying about exploding going over a bump on the road?
The two main heating systems in Moldova are both gas and wood burning. The stove used to heat the home is called a soba, many homes still rely solely on this heating system. Gas is available but, is imported from Russia at a high premium and is often more expensive than most families can afford on their salary. This brings new light to my dad's strict 65°F policy. Pff, 65° that's tee-shirt and shorts weather.
Fair warning, the following refers to the bathroom situation. Great, well you have been warned. But, before I end my post I figure it wouldn't be complete without a mention of the outhouse in winter. Now, if you are fortunate volunteer like myself, you have indoor plumbing that has held up in these long winter months. Some of my friends are not so lucky. This leads to what we like to call the poop pyramid, a frozen mass of fecal matter that must be gone at with a long solid object so that the hole does not run over.(You are welcome for that visual ;) ) Also, the small room can become quite slippery if you don't have perfect aim when it comes to #1, which I don't. Let's just say any part of my body falling into that hole, that isn't meant to be going into that hole, is one of my worst nightmares. And there you have it, a short glimpse into some of the differences between the happy porcelain thrones we have at home, and the bathroom situation in Moldova.
Here is to hoping that Spring is near. Martsisor is a Moldovan holiday on the first of March signifying the start of spring. You give a ribbon pin with a red flower and a white flower to all the people in your life. It is symbolic for a bountiful and blessed coming season. I have stocked up on my ribbons, let the pinning begin!
All for now,
Happy Leap Year everyone :)
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Host Daughter
One of the similarities that spans across all of Peace Corps is living with a host family. Every volunteer, that I know of, spends at least the first few months of their service with a host family. Many volunteers choose to stay with their host family their entire two+ year service creating a bond that not many people will ever get to fully understand. Today, I will explore this unique sort of relationship with you.
As a host daughter I have lived with three families. One family during my training, one family at my first site, and now my host family at my permanent site. These families consist of host country nationals willing to open their homes to us Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs).
When I arrived at my first family, my training family, they quickly ushered me in to the house, set me up in my bedroom, and shut the door. I was confused, am I supposed to stay here? This was my first night in Moldova, I didn't know any Romanian, and the one greeting they had taught me on the bus ride to the village I had already forgotten. I quietly opened the door but, stayed in the room reading a book. One of my host sisters walked by the room, I looked up and smiled, she shyly smiled back and proceeded to close my door. For the next week I would try and leave my door open. As a previous resident assistant I know that leaving your door open invites community building, and even though I couldn't speak the language I could awkwardly smile, and that's better than nothing, right? Every time I opened the door a member of the family would come by and quietly shut it. I wondered why they were doing this. I wondered if it was my fault, if I wasn't trying hard enough. A few weeks in, and my door still being shut, and my confusion mounting, I mentioned it in one of my classes. Surprisingly I learned, that in the host family training the families are taught that the biggest difference between Americans and Moldovans is our need for privacy. They were taught that above all they were to allow us to have alone time, to not disturb us if we were in our rooms, to let us live the way we are used to in America. So, my door was being shut because my family was nervous they would be disturbing me if they spoke to me, or entered my room. After learning this I couldn't help but laugh, they would shut my door and I would get up and open it. They must have thought I was crazy, playing this weird game of cat and mouse with my bedroom door. I quickly learned the phrase "I want to keep my door open", their confusion was lessened when I added "I like seeing you". It was a small oddity in our relationship that was easily resolved but remained as a funny adjustment cork you would never experience in a hotel or hostel, a unique quality of a host family.
To the families back home in the US, you should sleep comfortably knowing your loved one is being well taken care of. Less than a week after I moved into my permanent host family, my host mom was referring to me as her daughter. And, as a daughter I am held to the same responsibilities as any member of the family. I am to tell host mom when I am leaving, where I am going and when I am returning. I am bundled up in the cold like a person entering the great abyss of Siberia. I am scolded when my rubber rain boots are found with snow crusted on the heel because "Brittany, those are not appropriate winter boots. Your toes will freeze and they will have to cut them off". I am given the parts of the chicken that 'the Americans like'. I am coached along at dinner parties by my host mom, who is the only person in this country who somehow understands my Romanian and I hers. Life with a host family quickly allows you to create a unique bond, a mutual understanding, and face a challenge with great reward.
But, at the end of the day these families are opening their entire lives and hearts to allow us volunteers an opportunity to live a life in line with their culture. Other than a meager stipend, all these families have to gain is the constant presence of a person who is often confused by everything, and stumbles around the language and community until they are able to find their own unique grip.
For us volunteers who enter these homes we are reminded of the innate good of mankind. We are shown the beauty of a new culture through the eyes of its people, and from these experiences we gain so much more from Moldova than we could ever hope to give in return.
As a host daughter I have lived with three families. One family during my training, one family at my first site, and now my host family at my permanent site. These families consist of host country nationals willing to open their homes to us Peace Corps Volunteers (PCVs).
When I arrived at my first family, my training family, they quickly ushered me in to the house, set me up in my bedroom, and shut the door. I was confused, am I supposed to stay here? This was my first night in Moldova, I didn't know any Romanian, and the one greeting they had taught me on the bus ride to the village I had already forgotten. I quietly opened the door but, stayed in the room reading a book. One of my host sisters walked by the room, I looked up and smiled, she shyly smiled back and proceeded to close my door. For the next week I would try and leave my door open. As a previous resident assistant I know that leaving your door open invites community building, and even though I couldn't speak the language I could awkwardly smile, and that's better than nothing, right? Every time I opened the door a member of the family would come by and quietly shut it. I wondered why they were doing this. I wondered if it was my fault, if I wasn't trying hard enough. A few weeks in, and my door still being shut, and my confusion mounting, I mentioned it in one of my classes. Surprisingly I learned, that in the host family training the families are taught that the biggest difference between Americans and Moldovans is our need for privacy. They were taught that above all they were to allow us to have alone time, to not disturb us if we were in our rooms, to let us live the way we are used to in America. So, my door was being shut because my family was nervous they would be disturbing me if they spoke to me, or entered my room. After learning this I couldn't help but laugh, they would shut my door and I would get up and open it. They must have thought I was crazy, playing this weird game of cat and mouse with my bedroom door. I quickly learned the phrase "I want to keep my door open", their confusion was lessened when I added "I like seeing you". It was a small oddity in our relationship that was easily resolved but remained as a funny adjustment cork you would never experience in a hotel or hostel, a unique quality of a host family.
To the families back home in the US, you should sleep comfortably knowing your loved one is being well taken care of. Less than a week after I moved into my permanent host family, my host mom was referring to me as her daughter. And, as a daughter I am held to the same responsibilities as any member of the family. I am to tell host mom when I am leaving, where I am going and when I am returning. I am bundled up in the cold like a person entering the great abyss of Siberia. I am scolded when my rubber rain boots are found with snow crusted on the heel because "Brittany, those are not appropriate winter boots. Your toes will freeze and they will have to cut them off". I am given the parts of the chicken that 'the Americans like'. I am coached along at dinner parties by my host mom, who is the only person in this country who somehow understands my Romanian and I hers. Life with a host family quickly allows you to create a unique bond, a mutual understanding, and face a challenge with great reward.
But, at the end of the day these families are opening their entire lives and hearts to allow us volunteers an opportunity to live a life in line with their culture. Other than a meager stipend, all these families have to gain is the constant presence of a person who is often confused by everything, and stumbles around the language and community until they are able to find their own unique grip.
For us volunteers who enter these homes we are reminded of the innate good of mankind. We are shown the beauty of a new culture through the eyes of its people, and from these experiences we gain so much more from Moldova than we could ever hope to give in return.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
White Winter
A blanket of snow has covered Nisporeni.
It is cold.
It is winter.
My bed looks warm and inviting.
Good Nigh...Zzzzz
It is cold.
It is winter.
My bed looks warm and inviting.
Good Nigh...Zzzzz
Tuesday, January 31, 2012
Winter has arrived
Well, after a very mild November, December and most of January, winter has finally arrived, and with it the snow, ice, and freezing temperatures we all love to hate. It was a bittersweet arrival. For the agricultural sector it was a welcomed freeze, giving the crops a chance to rest before the spring. For us mere mortals it is a time of year when we burrow under blankets in multiple layers of clothes, only emerging for the essentials, mainly more piping hot tea.
Last week all of us agribusiness and rural business volunteers had a conference in the big city, Chisinau. We were put up at a "fancy" new hotel that was kind enough to give us our usual "much less fancy" hotel rates. Yay, for new businesses! The conference was for both volunteers and our host-country national work partners. My partner, Vlad, and I worked together to develop a project that our community had expressed a need for. (More about the actual project later.) The constructive setting allowed for everyone to accomplish a significant amount of work over the two and a half day seminar. We discussed matters of sustainability, elements that make for successful projects, tips for writing good proposals, and other basic but essential knowledge when it comes to the world of grant writing.
The weekend that followed was typical for winter in Moldova (ie staying inside, at all costs). Taking advantage of being in the capital, a group of a few volunteers and myself got an apartment, enjoyed some Greek food, and listened to countless songs on Youtube before falling asleep, dead tired from a long week. The following day I visited a few other volunteers in a city to the north. We made Mexican food for dinner, and drank a local red wine while listening to hits from the year 1993. When I began my journey back to site, I quickly realized the ruteria (mini-bus) I had planned on taking home was in fact broken, and no other buses were running. Luckily, another volunteer lives close by and I was able to find a place to stay for the night. After a little bit of work getting back to his site, we were able to salvage the night by making some tasty American grub, and watching an Adam Sandler classic, Billy Madison, before calling it a night. Thank goodness for the soba (wood burning heater) on these cold nights!
I learned a fun saying 'E un ger de crapa pietrele' when translated it means: 'It is so cold that stones break'. ...this expression is quite fitting for the current sub-zero temperatures we have been experiencing.
Until next time, peace.
Last week all of us agribusiness and rural business volunteers had a conference in the big city, Chisinau. We were put up at a "fancy" new hotel that was kind enough to give us our usual "much less fancy" hotel rates. Yay, for new businesses! The conference was for both volunteers and our host-country national work partners. My partner, Vlad, and I worked together to develop a project that our community had expressed a need for. (More about the actual project later.) The constructive setting allowed for everyone to accomplish a significant amount of work over the two and a half day seminar. We discussed matters of sustainability, elements that make for successful projects, tips for writing good proposals, and other basic but essential knowledge when it comes to the world of grant writing.
The weekend that followed was typical for winter in Moldova (ie staying inside, at all costs). Taking advantage of being in the capital, a group of a few volunteers and myself got an apartment, enjoyed some Greek food, and listened to countless songs on Youtube before falling asleep, dead tired from a long week. The following day I visited a few other volunteers in a city to the north. We made Mexican food for dinner, and drank a local red wine while listening to hits from the year 1993. When I began my journey back to site, I quickly realized the ruteria (mini-bus) I had planned on taking home was in fact broken, and no other buses were running. Luckily, another volunteer lives close by and I was able to find a place to stay for the night. After a little bit of work getting back to his site, we were able to salvage the night by making some tasty American grub, and watching an Adam Sandler classic, Billy Madison, before calling it a night. Thank goodness for the soba (wood burning heater) on these cold nights!
I learned a fun saying 'E un ger de crapa pietrele' when translated it means: 'It is so cold that stones break'. ...this expression is quite fitting for the current sub-zero temperatures we have been experiencing.
Until next time, peace.
Monday, January 23, 2012
A wee bit of Scotland
Last week I took my first 'trip' as a peace corps volunteer. I visited the beautiful country of Scotland. I had an amazing time with a fellow volunteer as we made the long journey from Moldova to Scotland.
Of course, like any trip, the 'getting there' part makes for a bit of an adventure. A word to the wise, if you find yourself in Chisinau (the capital of Moldova) and need to get to Bucharest (the capital of Romania) for a cheap flight, don't take the overnight bus. Spare yourself a night of no sleep, being overheated, while listening to Russian comedy films getting piped through all of the speakers on the bus, loudly. It was, to say the least, a sleepless uncomfortable night. But, when we did finally arrive at the airport for our further 6 hour wait for our flight I was able to get a few minutes of shut eye on the tiled floor of the Bucharest international airport. I have no shame, I will look like a bum if it means I will be slightly more comfortable. The flights were, luckily, all on time, and we made it to Edinburgh without too many setbacks (well unless you include my being slightly more cranky than usual).
We were greeted at the airport by one of my friends from school. I had the great good fortune of being an RA in the international dorm during my senior year at the University of New Hampshire. This experience allowed me the opportunity to meet some truly amazing people, who all kindly offered up their homes if I were ever 'in the neighborhood'. Well, being over in this neck of the woods, I am finding myself cashing in on as many of those offers as I can. Suckers, didn't think I would visit. I guess the joke is on all of you! Any-who, after a short ride on an immaculate double-decked bus we were dumped out in the middle of Edinburgh. Caught up in the charm of the city already, I quickly proclaimed 'this is the best trip I have ever been on'. This was all said before eating or sleeping...that goes to show you just how wonderful a city Edinburgh truly is. The night was short, we met up with another friend I had made at UNH and got a 'yay, you made it' pint. Although, I really didn't need a reason to have a pint at that point. After we shoveled all of our luggage into the trunk of a rented car (we somehow had the luck of scheduling our trip around the same dates as my friends father was visiting town. Thus, allowing us the ease and mobility of a car). I can never get over driving down the wrong side of the road. So, as I yelped with fear turning through intersections, we finally winded our way down the streets to the boys apartment. Not without stopping off to get a late night kebab and Dr. Pepper, of course.
The following day, unwilling to catch up on sleep, we arose to surprisingly warm morning. First point of business was to find sneakers. I had somehow lost mine in the confusion that is the peace corps office and needed a new pair, so that I could trounce around Scotland the right way. After finding a pair that were too tight for comfort I decided that without other option I had better just take my new trainers up the clerk check-out and get on with the day. Sam, the other volunteer on the trip, discovered the beautiful discount shopping store 'pound land'. We may or may not have bought up a few pounds worth of Dr. Pepper before hitting the road in search of something even more important: McDonalds breakfast. Now, before you go judging, this is coming from two people who have been outside of the US for quite awhile now. Neither one of us particularly craves McD's breakfast sandwiches when home, but, the novelty of devouring a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel was just to great to pass up. After our morning of 'American' luxuries we headed back to the apartment to re-group before our jam packed day of sight seeing.
We packed a lunch and decided the best way for us to see the city would be to take the short half hour hike up Arthurs Seat that boosts the best and most expansive views of Edinburgh. The weather was perfect and without out too much trouble we were able to reach the summit, though the older gentlemen running up and down the step slopes of the hill made me feel more than slightly out of shape. We found old remains of a chapel that served as an idyllic place for a picnic and sat down to our lunch of ham and cheese on a freshly baked baguette. After finishing our light lunch we headed up the royal mile to see the beautiful St. Giles cathedral. We floated along the cobble stoned streets as the sun gently set and the building were bathed in a warm yellow-pink hue.
Another of the missing food groups we so craved, besides McDonalds breakfast, includes Chinese cuisine. And, what better way to fill that empty MSG void than with an artery clogging good old fashion Chinese buffet. So, we headed out in search of just that. We entered Jimmy Chungs ready to fill our bellies with all the best dishes; orange chicken, vegetable lo mein, chicken teriyaki, egg rolls and steamed dumplings. Oh goodness, just thinking about it makes my mouth water. Of course, after only a few mouth fulls and my stomach was already protesting my taking another bite. Apparently my stomach had forgotten what fun we used to have devouring plate after plate of delicious greasy fair. So, after only eating one plate, my stomach was too upset to allow me to eat another morsel, believe me, no one was more disappointed in this sad truth than I was. It also ended what would have been a fun Friday night out in Edinburgh. Instead, I lay in a food coma on a couch, in an apartment, on Easter road, watching a British food show (but, hey, it was in English).
The next day I woke to find the entire top of my left foot had been roughly bruised thanks to the too-tight sneakers I had purchased the day before. I tried to not let this ruin my spirits as we (Sam, the apartment boys, and I) headed out to the National Museum of Scotland. Now, I'm all for a good museum. But, I can't lie, I'm the kind of person who rushes through, doesn't read the little blurbs about the artifacts behind the glass, and gets distracted by the pop-up coffee kiosks that are strategically located close enough to the exhibits so that you can appear to be looking at something important when really you are, in actuality, reading the menu. This works well when you are with a group of like minded people but, when you are with a bunch of museum nerds you feel yourself get antsy and glance out the window every chance you can. Luckily, I was able to persuade all of the men with me that whatever was outside the confines of the museum wall were far more interesting than what was stored within. This is coming from a person who could sit at a park bench for hours staring at strangers walking by. Do I gain intellectual stimulation from sitting outside staring down strangers? No, probably not, but, my simple mind very much enjoys observing my surroundings, especially in a new place. And so, to me, getting out of that stuffy endless museum and back on the street became my vendetta. Sorry, boys.
After the great success of the museum, we headed over to a beautiful part of the city that is nestled on a stream. Now, this is my kind of sightseeing. The buildings were out of this world, beautiful. I found myself blissfully stumbling around the narrow streets daydreaming about my future flat being in that old building, or that one with the red roof, or maybe that one with the terrace and budding cherry tree, oh bliss.
We zoomed about the city in the wonderful rented car and weaved our way back to the boys apartment but, not before first stopping off to get some delicious fish and chips. It makes me sad that fish and chips are so darn unhealthy because ohmygoodness they are so good! It's honestly a good thing I live in a landlocked country, I would most certainly make a bad habit of consuming too much fried fish if I lived near the coast.
That night we did make it out. It always surprises me how much of a social life middle-aged society has outside the US, I guess it makes sense, especially in a cosmopolitan area like Edinburgh. I was also terribly under dressed in my tee-shirt and black patagonia jacket. Women parading into the jammed pubs with their sky-high heels and glittering tops, I felt like frump-osraus-rex. We had a great night, consuming excellent quality beers and chatting (in English!). The night ended with yet another stop off at the beloved late night kebab shop, this time to for some chips and curry.
The following morning Sam and I woke early to catch a train to Glasgow. We met up with yet another friend from UNH and her girlfriend who offered an amazing tour around the city. Except to pause for a delicious lunch at the local brewery, we walked and saw most of what Glasgow has to offer that day. It really was a beautiful city (didn't have a castle though, point Edinburgh). Later that evening we met up with a childhood friend of mine who had moved to Scotland many years ago. We had the most amazing dinner with her and her boyfriend and caught up on each-others lives as of late, before we headed back to Edinburgh on the late train.
The following day we allowed ourselves a few extra hours to rest after our long day in Glasgow. We started the day going to the supermarket. Now, again, you will judge and say that going to the supermarket while you are on a trip to a new place is a waste of precious time, but, I must remind you that there are only two supermarkets we volunteers have convenience of going to and that is only if we find ourselves in the capital. They also cannot hold a candle to that which is the first-world supermarket. A mecca to foodie volunteers. Sam and I felt like kids in a candy store, each new aisle an adventure of foods we could only dream about in Moldova. I should add a disclaimer here, the food in Moldova is great, don't get me wrong. I have more than enough weight on my bones before I could be considered even under nourished adjacent. That being said, the foods we eat in Moldova differ from those we are accustomed to eating back in the US. Thus, the appeal of a supermarket carrying all of those foods we pine over, in one convenient location. After purchasing far too much food, and in fact, judging myself for all of the unhealthy choices I made in the store, we carried our shopping bags back to the good ole' apartment.
A packed lunch later and we were out the door. We meandered our way back into the city center. I got to hear and oggle an innocent bagpiper. We also meandered around the National Gallery, before we settled at a park bench in the park just below the castle. A delicious sandwich, some fancy gourmet chips and a carton of blueberries later, and we were full and ready to see the last bits of the city.
On our final day in Scotland, Sam took the GMAT while I was entertained by UNH friends. We walked up a little hill where a replica of the Parthenon had been partially constructed. I'm told the investor thought it would look great atop this hill, I guess he isn't wrong, but, the project ran well over budget and so construction was stopped, and just one wall of pillars remains. That night we went out for a final farewell. After getting a couple of pints at a funky little bar off the main drag, we ate a delicious meal of British comfort food. Over indulgence again led to a shorter than planned evening, and we were back at the apartment packing our bags for an early morning.
The trip back was bittersweet, I didn't want to leave my friends in Edinburgh, they had been such wonderful hosts but, I was looking forward to having a proper bed to sleep in once again. Both flights went smoothly and our private rutiera from the Bucharest airport was actually quite comfortable. And, even though we stopped at a restaurant for little under an hour so the driver could have dinner, we still made it back a couple hours before we had estimated.
The trip was so relaxing and it, as vacations always do, went by far too quickly.
More on adventures in Moldova next time!
Peace
Of course, like any trip, the 'getting there' part makes for a bit of an adventure. A word to the wise, if you find yourself in Chisinau (the capital of Moldova) and need to get to Bucharest (the capital of Romania) for a cheap flight, don't take the overnight bus. Spare yourself a night of no sleep, being overheated, while listening to Russian comedy films getting piped through all of the speakers on the bus, loudly. It was, to say the least, a sleepless uncomfortable night. But, when we did finally arrive at the airport for our further 6 hour wait for our flight I was able to get a few minutes of shut eye on the tiled floor of the Bucharest international airport. I have no shame, I will look like a bum if it means I will be slightly more comfortable. The flights were, luckily, all on time, and we made it to Edinburgh without too many setbacks (well unless you include my being slightly more cranky than usual).
We were greeted at the airport by one of my friends from school. I had the great good fortune of being an RA in the international dorm during my senior year at the University of New Hampshire. This experience allowed me the opportunity to meet some truly amazing people, who all kindly offered up their homes if I were ever 'in the neighborhood'. Well, being over in this neck of the woods, I am finding myself cashing in on as many of those offers as I can. Suckers, didn't think I would visit. I guess the joke is on all of you! Any-who, after a short ride on an immaculate double-decked bus we were dumped out in the middle of Edinburgh. Caught up in the charm of the city already, I quickly proclaimed 'this is the best trip I have ever been on'. This was all said before eating or sleeping...that goes to show you just how wonderful a city Edinburgh truly is. The night was short, we met up with another friend I had made at UNH and got a 'yay, you made it' pint. Although, I really didn't need a reason to have a pint at that point. After we shoveled all of our luggage into the trunk of a rented car (we somehow had the luck of scheduling our trip around the same dates as my friends father was visiting town. Thus, allowing us the ease and mobility of a car). I can never get over driving down the wrong side of the road. So, as I yelped with fear turning through intersections, we finally winded our way down the streets to the boys apartment. Not without stopping off to get a late night kebab and Dr. Pepper, of course.
The following day, unwilling to catch up on sleep, we arose to surprisingly warm morning. First point of business was to find sneakers. I had somehow lost mine in the confusion that is the peace corps office and needed a new pair, so that I could trounce around Scotland the right way. After finding a pair that were too tight for comfort I decided that without other option I had better just take my new trainers up the clerk check-out and get on with the day. Sam, the other volunteer on the trip, discovered the beautiful discount shopping store 'pound land'. We may or may not have bought up a few pounds worth of Dr. Pepper before hitting the road in search of something even more important: McDonalds breakfast. Now, before you go judging, this is coming from two people who have been outside of the US for quite awhile now. Neither one of us particularly craves McD's breakfast sandwiches when home, but, the novelty of devouring a bacon, egg and cheese on a bagel was just to great to pass up. After our morning of 'American' luxuries we headed back to the apartment to re-group before our jam packed day of sight seeing.
We packed a lunch and decided the best way for us to see the city would be to take the short half hour hike up Arthurs Seat that boosts the best and most expansive views of Edinburgh. The weather was perfect and without out too much trouble we were able to reach the summit, though the older gentlemen running up and down the step slopes of the hill made me feel more than slightly out of shape. We found old remains of a chapel that served as an idyllic place for a picnic and sat down to our lunch of ham and cheese on a freshly baked baguette. After finishing our light lunch we headed up the royal mile to see the beautiful St. Giles cathedral. We floated along the cobble stoned streets as the sun gently set and the building were bathed in a warm yellow-pink hue.
Another of the missing food groups we so craved, besides McDonalds breakfast, includes Chinese cuisine. And, what better way to fill that empty MSG void than with an artery clogging good old fashion Chinese buffet. So, we headed out in search of just that. We entered Jimmy Chungs ready to fill our bellies with all the best dishes; orange chicken, vegetable lo mein, chicken teriyaki, egg rolls and steamed dumplings. Oh goodness, just thinking about it makes my mouth water. Of course, after only a few mouth fulls and my stomach was already protesting my taking another bite. Apparently my stomach had forgotten what fun we used to have devouring plate after plate of delicious greasy fair. So, after only eating one plate, my stomach was too upset to allow me to eat another morsel, believe me, no one was more disappointed in this sad truth than I was. It also ended what would have been a fun Friday night out in Edinburgh. Instead, I lay in a food coma on a couch, in an apartment, on Easter road, watching a British food show (but, hey, it was in English).
The next day I woke to find the entire top of my left foot had been roughly bruised thanks to the too-tight sneakers I had purchased the day before. I tried to not let this ruin my spirits as we (Sam, the apartment boys, and I) headed out to the National Museum of Scotland. Now, I'm all for a good museum. But, I can't lie, I'm the kind of person who rushes through, doesn't read the little blurbs about the artifacts behind the glass, and gets distracted by the pop-up coffee kiosks that are strategically located close enough to the exhibits so that you can appear to be looking at something important when really you are, in actuality, reading the menu. This works well when you are with a group of like minded people but, when you are with a bunch of museum nerds you feel yourself get antsy and glance out the window every chance you can. Luckily, I was able to persuade all of the men with me that whatever was outside the confines of the museum wall were far more interesting than what was stored within. This is coming from a person who could sit at a park bench for hours staring at strangers walking by. Do I gain intellectual stimulation from sitting outside staring down strangers? No, probably not, but, my simple mind very much enjoys observing my surroundings, especially in a new place. And so, to me, getting out of that stuffy endless museum and back on the street became my vendetta. Sorry, boys.
After the great success of the museum, we headed over to a beautiful part of the city that is nestled on a stream. Now, this is my kind of sightseeing. The buildings were out of this world, beautiful. I found myself blissfully stumbling around the narrow streets daydreaming about my future flat being in that old building, or that one with the red roof, or maybe that one with the terrace and budding cherry tree, oh bliss.
We zoomed about the city in the wonderful rented car and weaved our way back to the boys apartment but, not before first stopping off to get some delicious fish and chips. It makes me sad that fish and chips are so darn unhealthy because ohmygoodness they are so good! It's honestly a good thing I live in a landlocked country, I would most certainly make a bad habit of consuming too much fried fish if I lived near the coast.
That night we did make it out. It always surprises me how much of a social life middle-aged society has outside the US, I guess it makes sense, especially in a cosmopolitan area like Edinburgh. I was also terribly under dressed in my tee-shirt and black patagonia jacket. Women parading into the jammed pubs with their sky-high heels and glittering tops, I felt like frump-osraus-rex. We had a great night, consuming excellent quality beers and chatting (in English!). The night ended with yet another stop off at the beloved late night kebab shop, this time to for some chips and curry.
The following morning Sam and I woke early to catch a train to Glasgow. We met up with yet another friend from UNH and her girlfriend who offered an amazing tour around the city. Except to pause for a delicious lunch at the local brewery, we walked and saw most of what Glasgow has to offer that day. It really was a beautiful city (didn't have a castle though, point Edinburgh). Later that evening we met up with a childhood friend of mine who had moved to Scotland many years ago. We had the most amazing dinner with her and her boyfriend and caught up on each-others lives as of late, before we headed back to Edinburgh on the late train.
The following day we allowed ourselves a few extra hours to rest after our long day in Glasgow. We started the day going to the supermarket. Now, again, you will judge and say that going to the supermarket while you are on a trip to a new place is a waste of precious time, but, I must remind you that there are only two supermarkets we volunteers have convenience of going to and that is only if we find ourselves in the capital. They also cannot hold a candle to that which is the first-world supermarket. A mecca to foodie volunteers. Sam and I felt like kids in a candy store, each new aisle an adventure of foods we could only dream about in Moldova. I should add a disclaimer here, the food in Moldova is great, don't get me wrong. I have more than enough weight on my bones before I could be considered even under nourished adjacent. That being said, the foods we eat in Moldova differ from those we are accustomed to eating back in the US. Thus, the appeal of a supermarket carrying all of those foods we pine over, in one convenient location. After purchasing far too much food, and in fact, judging myself for all of the unhealthy choices I made in the store, we carried our shopping bags back to the good ole' apartment.
A packed lunch later and we were out the door. We meandered our way back into the city center. I got to hear and oggle an innocent bagpiper. We also meandered around the National Gallery, before we settled at a park bench in the park just below the castle. A delicious sandwich, some fancy gourmet chips and a carton of blueberries later, and we were full and ready to see the last bits of the city.
On our final day in Scotland, Sam took the GMAT while I was entertained by UNH friends. We walked up a little hill where a replica of the Parthenon had been partially constructed. I'm told the investor thought it would look great atop this hill, I guess he isn't wrong, but, the project ran well over budget and so construction was stopped, and just one wall of pillars remains. That night we went out for a final farewell. After getting a couple of pints at a funky little bar off the main drag, we ate a delicious meal of British comfort food. Over indulgence again led to a shorter than planned evening, and we were back at the apartment packing our bags for an early morning.
The trip back was bittersweet, I didn't want to leave my friends in Edinburgh, they had been such wonderful hosts but, I was looking forward to having a proper bed to sleep in once again. Both flights went smoothly and our private rutiera from the Bucharest airport was actually quite comfortable. And, even though we stopped at a restaurant for little under an hour so the driver could have dinner, we still made it back a couple hours before we had estimated.
The trip was so relaxing and it, as vacations always do, went by far too quickly.
More on adventures in Moldova next time!
Peace
Monday, January 9, 2012
Craciun Veche-- Christmas: Round Two
This past Saturday (January 7) was the Eastern Orthodox Christmas. The great majority of people who live in Moldova celebrate Christmas on the 'old calendar' with Christmas falling on 1/7 and New Years falling on 1/13. A holiday is always cause for celebration here in Moldova and Christmas is no exception.
Friday night, host mom was busy cooking up a storm for the masa (meal) on Saturday. I asked how many people we were expecting, host mom laughed, and told me she didn't know and that was why she was cooking so much food. I helped make the clatite (first: lets just take a moment to appreciate the hilarity of that word. second: they are not nearly as dirty as they sound, it's simply crepes filled with sweetened cheese and pan-fried). We all stayed up late preparing for the next day, cooking food and drinking tea.
Saturday, I woke to find host mom busy at work in the kitchen. I skirted around, helping when I could, mainly putting myself in the charge of the electric kettle (coffee is a requirement for normal functioning). When people did start arriving we were prepared, the food was laid out on the table, and the champagne was ready to be popped and poured.
When living with a host family there is always a period of awkward transition. A period of time when you tip-toe around, smile, make pleasantries, and get to know one another one day at a time. Luckily, I have built a strong relationship with my host mom. She is a really warm and caring woman who enjoys spending time with me (or, at least, she does a good job at pretending). Recently she has begun calling me by my nickname 'Britt'. So, when I met a few members of the family on Saturday and introduced myself as 'Brittany', host mom was quick to jump in and add "but, her family calls her Britt, it's easier". These are the little things that make me feel like I belong, like I am building the kind of relationships that I will hold on to when I leave Moldova.
Sunday, my host sister came home for a visit. She and her husband live in the capital, Chisinau. This, to me, was the true day of celebration. In the late morning we started up the BBQ and spent the day drinking vin de casa (homemade wine). We enjoyed each others company, ate until our stomachs were full, and drank until our minds were a buzz. It was a fun weekend here in Nisporeni.
Friday night, host mom was busy cooking up a storm for the masa (meal) on Saturday. I asked how many people we were expecting, host mom laughed, and told me she didn't know and that was why she was cooking so much food. I helped make the clatite (first: lets just take a moment to appreciate the hilarity of that word. second: they are not nearly as dirty as they sound, it's simply crepes filled with sweetened cheese and pan-fried). We all stayed up late preparing for the next day, cooking food and drinking tea.
Saturday, I woke to find host mom busy at work in the kitchen. I skirted around, helping when I could, mainly putting myself in the charge of the electric kettle (coffee is a requirement for normal functioning). When people did start arriving we were prepared, the food was laid out on the table, and the champagne was ready to be popped and poured.
When living with a host family there is always a period of awkward transition. A period of time when you tip-toe around, smile, make pleasantries, and get to know one another one day at a time. Luckily, I have built a strong relationship with my host mom. She is a really warm and caring woman who enjoys spending time with me (or, at least, she does a good job at pretending). Recently she has begun calling me by my nickname 'Britt'. So, when I met a few members of the family on Saturday and introduced myself as 'Brittany', host mom was quick to jump in and add "but, her family calls her Britt, it's easier". These are the little things that make me feel like I belong, like I am building the kind of relationships that I will hold on to when I leave Moldova.
Sunday, my host sister came home for a visit. She and her husband live in the capital, Chisinau. This, to me, was the true day of celebration. In the late morning we started up the BBQ and spent the day drinking vin de casa (homemade wine). We enjoyed each others company, ate until our stomachs were full, and drank until our minds were a buzz. It was a fun weekend here in Nisporeni.
Friday, January 6, 2012
La Multi Ani- New Years in the village
The New Year has come. I enjoy the beginning anew that happens on the first of January. It’s as if we are all given a refresh button. Everyone, myself included, comes up with resolutions for a better self. And, like most, mine is thrown to the side that Monday. But, in the spirit of starting anew we all celebrate those few hours before the start of a new beginning, and I am all for a good party.
This year was no different. On Saturday, I journeyed to the village of Sadova where I had plans to spend New Years with a few other volunteers and a welcoming host family. The evening, like most when visiting a new host family, started with a generous pitcher of house wine accompanied with some light conversation. The following few hours were spent relaxing before the big masa (meal) that would be eaten at the sound of midnight.
Curious of what festivities the village had to offer we set out in search of the band we had been told would be playing at the local cultural center. The walk through the village was short, but along the way we saw a few fireworks being set off around town. When we reached the center we could tell, from about 300 yards away, that this wasn’t the sort of band we had been expecting. We were greeted by the loud thumping of techno music and decided that we had better return home if we wanted to dance the Hora (a traditional Moldovan circle dance).
A bit more waiting back at the house before it was finally time to sit down to the meal. All six of us crowded in to the largest room in the family’s home, the master bedroom. A table had been set with a large spread of traditional Moldovan foods, and three bottles of sparkling white wine were waiting to be popped and toasted to the New Year.
We watched on the television as the festivities unfolded in Chisinau. It was reminiscent to the ‘Dick Clarks New Years Eve special’ my family watches of the festivities in Time Square. Just before the New Year we heard an address by the interim president Marian Lupu, and with that, it was down to the countdown. We all sat around the table, with our glasses raised, counting down in Romanian to a new year in Moldova.
The weekend was lazy and delightful. Sleeping in on Sunday morning and waking up in a brand-new year. The village didn’t look any different, and we were all no worse for the wear (well except for the headaches), and another New Years had come and past, and Monday life was back to normal.
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