Cultural Differences, cont.

Disclaimer: This was written quickly. There will be errors. I always get so annoyed when I see errors on blogs, but, well, right now everyone, including me, will have to deal with it if they want news.

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(written March 7)

I feel like I should tell about certain things.

Things like, half the time I'm so frustrated in language class that I almost break down crying. Things like, today I was so frustrated that I can't seem to fricking remember for the life of me the difference between the words "who" and "how" and "what" that I actually did start crying at the dinner table.

Having a language drilled into you for five straight hours, then walking home - in the rain - without an umbrella, in a town with roads straight of the labyrinth movie - is no picnic.

Particularly because women aren't allowed to talk to men here... I mean we're not even supposed to look at them, but you know for certain they're looking at you, and I also know for certain they know that I'm not a local. So everytime I see a pack of boys on the side of the road i'm on - or on the otherside of the road, or in the yard of someone who is near where I'm walking - I tense up, afraid of getting harassed or something. I have no basis for this feeling, other than it's been drilled into us that we're NOT SUPPOSED TO TALK TO THE MEN.

Come to think of it, the tense feeling is the same way I would feel passing pack of men in the states - machismo is truly an international standard. It's just, you know, in the states i'm not usually huffing and puffing because I'm not used to extreme hills and I can't understand the taunts they might throw at me.

I'm so conscious of the fact that I'm breathing heavy when I'm walking up these freaking hills - even though my gazda family members are as well - that I literally hold my breath when I pass people so they can't hear me. I don't want to pass on the stereotype of an out of shape American.

Although I am an out of shape American. I'm well aware of this.

I'm being treated, unsurprisingly, as if I'm very young, because most of the woman my age have - oh kids into their double digits. Usually I don't mind being thought of as being young, but here it has the unfortunate consequence of being thrown in with these 18 year-old railroad thin girls who are all getting lectures by their tata's on not developing belly's. The 15lbs in goodbye dinners I gained has definitely come back to haunt me slightly, although I would still be very curvy comparitively to the teenagers I'm being thrown in with. I have yet to meet a Moldovan 20-something that is not married with children.

Not that I haven't started to lose that 15lbs already, oh don't you worry. Going from the extreme flatness of Chicago, with all that lovely public transportation, to the extreme hilly-ness of Moldova, has been quite good for my legs. And, though they do try to push food on you at every minute, including massive amounts of bread, the very fact that they use small plates has an incredible impact. They also have an interesting custom. I present to you:

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Cultural Difference #9
Meals
All meals here are served family style. If you are at a table with enough room, you are provided with a plate that Americans would think of as a side (perhaps a bread) plate. The table is then loaded with the main food. Everyone is given a fork, and people proceed to eat. There is no attempt to dish out food onto the plates that have been given out, really... most people just dip their fork into the plates around the table and put it straight into their mouth. The only way this is negated is if you need to put, say, pasta on your plate. But even that can be worked around.

When you go out to eat at someone's house, well, then, sometimes you get a plate, but usually you just get a massive piece of bread (bread being a staple at EVERY meal). Plates are stacked everywhere, and continually brought out through the entire meal. Continually. And stacked on top of each other. Precariously. Dangerously. The table clothes are always threatened.

Rarely, unless at a "masa" dinnerparty, is the table set with anything to drink. You may get a cup of tea at the end of the meal. Occasionally, a shot glass may be passed around with wine - all are included, including children. In my household, this is usually done when it's cold, a habit I've come to GREATLY appreciate. I was at a masa the other day where vodka was passed around, and the kids got that, too. I want to emphasis, they do not get a *lot* of liquor, and this is not that unusual of a custom, even in some parts of America. It can even have a slightly sopoforic effect on the kids, something that I think most parents can appreciate.

I do, however, think the everyone eating off of every dish at the table thing would probably freak a lot of Americans out, us being neat freaks and all.

Since the night I came out of the living room and into the kitchen to see pig parts strewn all over the kitchen and my host dad cleaning an ax in the sink, I've kind of learned to calm my freaked out-ed-ness.

I've even figured out a way to eat the chicken jello that is so famous here (a cold dish that is super super super popular, served with whole pieces of chicken in chicken marrow jello).... wipe the jello off with bread, and just eat the chicken. I can be polite, and not gag, like I did the first time. I cannot imagine how much I would have embarassed my host family by throwing up all over the dad's mom's table.
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Let's move on to:
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Myth Busting #1
How many of us have heard that roosters crow at sun-up? It's a common thing often seen in... commercials, cartoons, etc. Roosters, however, are much more garrulous than this. Much much much more. They crow at sun-up, at sun-down, at mid-day...

and god are they loud. I mean for real.
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Cultural Difference #10
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Moldovans use crepe paper for toilet paper. The kind used to decorate houses in America, basically, only it's not crinkled. And it's pink. The same color my sister and I used for the twins birthday. Strangely absorbant, though.
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Cultural Difference #11
(for anyone wondering, I did kind of start these numbers arbitrarily, but I figured I'd at least described 8 thus far)

Moldovans take really special care of appearances. They are obsessed with shoes, and they want you to dress up all the time.

Yet they only have a few outfits. They treat their clothing so well - I've never seen kids - 7-year olds! treat their clothes so particularly.

Needless to say, while I might have been fine in the states for the most part, I mostly don't measure up here. This is for a few reasons:

1) My shoes are nowhere in good enough condition;

2) Even if my shoes were in good enough condition, I'm not used to / not into walking 45 minutes in them. My feet hurt, and I'll be damned if I'm wearing anything by my boots or tennis shoes (blue and sparkly silver, oh yeah!) when I'm walking these roads that have very little pavement. This applies particularly if I'm only going to have to take off my shoes as soon as I get to wherever I'm going (stay tuned for cultural difference #12). I'll be happy to bring better shoes with me, but what's the point, if I'm, again, taking them off as soon as I get somewhere?

I've had to wash my shoes on quite a few ocassions already. And if I don't wash them, my host family washes them for me, which makes me feel terrible. But shoes get muddy, for chrissakes. And if it's still muddy, why don't we all just wait until the land dries to wash our shoes? Please?

3) My coat appalls them. It has those fuzz balls on them, and damned if I know how to get those out. It was a cheap $60 Target coat, what the hell? I'm tempted to try and burn them off, because there's way to many to pick. But I feel like that could probably lead to badness.

4) My jeans, and yes, pretty much every pair of pants that I own has a little bit of fray at the bottom. Just a little bit, most of them, but yes, they have fray. This is a huuuuuuge no no. My mom almost gasped when she saw them.

5) Most Moldovans wear a lot of black and grey, etc. Hmm.

4) My style is ... my style. It always has been. It's not Moldovan, and I'm okay with that, but I have to walk around with my family and try not to embarass them, and, most of all, fit in here. How to do that a limited clothing line on so many levels?
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Cultural Difference #11
Taking off shoes
You don't wear shoes in the house. I almost don't know what else to say here. Except for this requires a few things:

1) that your socks match whatever you're wearing.

2) that your socks be clean so that they don't smell and offend the people you're with when you get wherever you're going.

3) that you buy slippers to wear around the house. And work shoes to wear when your... getting eggs out of the chicken coop, or picking up clothes from the line.

I'm sure there's more, but that's all I can think of right now.

Cultural Difference #12
Driving without a seatbelt. And with kitchen chairs.

It's considered kind of rude to put a seatbelt on in someone's car. And the other night, I was driven home with my family by my host dad's brother in his van, that didn't really have seats in the back, so we put kitchen chairs in the back and we sat on those.

Let me also express the extreme craziness of the roads here. There are two main roads in Peresecina, and then a bazillion mini roads that I'm more inclined to call alleys. These alleys are not paved and remind me soooo much the Labryinth movie it's crazy. So there we were, bumping around on these kitchen chairs in this labryinth roads ... we got home quite safely, but it was a little scary, I admit. Particularly after a five hour dinner party. Did I mention how long the dinner parties are? Because that's another noticeable cultural difference.