Because I am in love with this little girl

the English Version



The Romanian Version

The brilliancy of anonymity and the dictionary project

I like cities. Know what I like most about them? It's not the ability to get brie, although that was a delightful treat. It's not the ability to buy curry paste, or ramen noodles, or numerous other edible treats not available in villages. It's not the constant thrill of the nightlife, or the public transportation...

Don't get me wrong, I do love the public transportation. And hey! I got asked for directions yesterday on the trolleybus! Not that I could do anything but look blankly at them and say, "scuzați, eu vorbesc puțin romaneste," only to have them look blankly at me, and then to realize that they were probably speaking to me in Russian, but *still*, I got asked for directions yesterday, which means somebody thought that I looked like I belonged. Somebody young and foolish, obviously, but somebody!

But what I really love about cities is that nobody expects you to look at them and smile and say "buna ziua!" or "christos anviat!" You keep your business to yourself, and I appreciate that reservedness.

Which is funny, I guess, because one of my fondest memories in Chicago was blowing tourists kisses and waving at them when they went around on those trolleys. Where was my reserve there, huh?

I guess when you know that the chances of you being able to communicate with anyone are pretty much in the lower 25% range, the desire to start up a conversation plummets.

Yesterday was mother's day in America. Not that I knew that until my host family *reminded* me of it, which is a little embarrassing considering that Moldovan's don't have a Mother's Day. They have a Woman's Day, and it's a State Holiday - people get off work for it and everything, and it's a big deal. Many masa and celebrations, and much homemade wine.

Other things that I love about cities? Fast internet connection. Oh my, how wonderful is that. I've been able to download all the most recent episodes of Lost, Grey's Anatomy, Gossip Girl...

How tragic is it, however, that Battlestar Galactica has moved to Amazon.com, and doesn't work with a MacOSX platform? What was SciFi thinking? Don't they know that most scifi geeks are mac users? Geez. Un!Cool.

I'm trying to decide whether or not to get dsl in my house. The temptation is strong, oh so very strong. But that would just make me more of a homebody than I already am. What to do.

In other news, I have a new self-imposed project. It's called the dictionary project. Since I no longer have lessons, I'm going through our dictionary and making flashcards of all the words and the phrases that I think are useful (because our dictionary comes with phrases like: that blows my mind! and who doesn't want to know how to say that in every language possible?) I have finished the A section and am halfway through the B section. It is a good way to spend time with my family, as homework time in my family is group family time. I figure it will take me about a month and a half to go through the entire thing, and then I can go backwards - go from romanian to english.

And of course at some point, I'll actually start studying the flashcards.

By far, they have been the most useful method of me learning vocab, and it's a nice way to interact with my new sister because she likes to do the romanian to english. I already have a stack the size of my arm from training. The cards keep getting smaller because - really, who needs a full sized index card? I can save $.02 if I cut them up into 1/4's.

Tonight I start my tutoring sessions with a woman named Vicky, or Victoria. She's a language tutor, although she wasn't mine... she worked with all boys in a neighboring village. She lives in Chisinău, so I think it will be a good match. The only problem is that another training session starts in three weeks, and so when that happens, I'll have to find another tutor. Fuarte Triste.

Last days in Peresecina

Ultimea Zilelor in Peresecina

Is it annoying that I write double, with both Romanian and English? I hope so. ;)

It's just, whenever I first think in Romanian, I figure I should encourage that oddity as much as possible.

I wanted to talk just really briefly about my last days in Peresecina, mostly to post some pictures, but also to talk about Moldova in general.

Mostly to talk about Moldova's soil.

It's AMAZING.

The last day that I was in Peresecina, Eden and Sarah and I decided to take one final walk around the town, and to try and venture up the hill. We've been talking about going up these hills since we've been here, but we've been, I don't know, lazy, and/or scared.

See, there are many many many dogs in Moldova. Wild Dogs.

One of the first days that we were here, Eden, brave, tiny Eden, decided that she was going to take a walk up the hills to take a look at our fair village.

Peresecina, you see, is most definitely in a valley.



On the way up a path, Eden met up with a family who asked where she was going.... when she said that she was going to go "in deal," or up the hill, the family said, oh no, she couldn't go up the hill, she was too small. Which of course, being the brave Eden, she immediately took umbrage to, and said well, small or no, I'm going up the hill.

And thus she went, up and up, until about halfway she heard a sound. The sound of barking. The sound of three very large dogs coming at her very quickly, and obviously not very happy that someone was invading their territory. Eden was, indeed, too small to be going up the hill.

Poor Eden, she had to run full out back down the hill, as quickly as she could. It was a very dangerous situation.

After her report, there was much mutual discussion about what we could do to get up that hill - bring sausages perhaps? Maybe if we went in a big enough group, the dogs would be afraid of us??

We talked a lot, but did little. Then one day, I found a hill and ventured up it with my little sister. We got about half way, noticed no wild beasts other than the odd cow, horse and goat, and I saw other people, so I suggested that we try that on our last day.

And go we did. The cow was there. The horse was there. The goat was there. And an old woman was there, sitting, watching the town, obviously having been in the cups at least a few times during the day already. She stopped us for a chat. And a chat. And a chat. Tried to get us to come home with her. Got upset when we said we couldn't. She offered wine. She offered food. She offered her grandson. She was quite upset when we explained we couldn't - we were on a hike because we wanted to take pictures of the village.



She thought that was brilliant! And she wanted to see the pictures. And demanded that we come to her house and show them all to her. We tried to explain that we couldn't, that we had dinner's to go back home to as soon as we were done... No Problem! She said... come back tomorrow morning. When we explained to her that this was our very last day in Peresecina, there was more confusion, she was more upset, and kept us there for another, oh, 10 minutes trying to figure out a way to get us to her house. I felt really bad, I must admit, and by the 7th minute was ready to go to her house already.

But we didn't, and went on our hike, and it was pretty cool. We stumbled across what looked to be the ghost of a grape vineyard that was still growing, but obviously uncared for. We came upon wild mint, and a teeming hill of ants that freaked me out. We saw quite a few lizards that started to freak me out because really, where there are lizards, aren't there snakes, too?

We got really amazing pictures of the town, most of which I don't have, but I'll post some. But the truly remarkable thing was the soil... it was like the entire world was covered in topsoil. Everywhere we stepped we sank down half a foot.

I read somewhere that 81% of Moldova is covered in black soil, the largest percentage of anywhere in the world. If that's the case, then it's truly a remarkable resource, and I hope that they're really trying to push sustainable farming methods. It would be a shame to lose something so amazing.

Later I will post the good pictures that Eden took, but right now I'll post some that I took from Easter.

< --------- This picture is of my house!! The green house behind the large building (a kindgergarden), that's where I lived!

Easter

This blog is a little scattered now, I apologize. But I realize that it's important for me to report on some things that I greatly neglected.

Like, for instance, the week of Easter.

Christos Anviat! (Christ has risen!)
Adaverat Anviat! (It's True, he's Risen!)

The Orthodox Easter is later than the Catholic Easter, although I was informed that two years ago the holiday was on the same day. Obviously, the churches are celebrating the same thing, as is evidenced by the above statement. And there are some similarities.

There are eggs. They are even dyed. And there is candy. But many similarities end there.

De exampel: The eggs are only dyed red. The red symbolizes the blood that Christ shed.

But I get ahead of myself.

On Easter Eve, the most hardy of people go to the Basilica (actually called Biserica in Moldova) around 7 or 8 in the evening. They bring with them bread, meat, and the eggs that they've died. Often they also bring $.

Those that get to the Biserica early get prime viewing spots. Not that this matters much, because though the church is *incredibly* beautiful, there are no seats. This is true during every service, not just Easter. Also, it's very difficult to see the priest because half the time he's behind a screen even though he wears the most elaborate costumes, and looks more like a pope with a beard than any priest I have seen.



Only about, oh, 1/4 to 1/3 of the time is spent in talk... the rest in singing. Of one song. With one line.

This ceremony goes on until after sunrise.

Now, most people don't have the stamina to get there at 8pm. Oh no. Most people, myself and my host sister and my host grandmother included, went at around 3:30am.
There is absolutely no room for all the people who show up for church this night, so a line begins to form out the door, and people lay set up their bread, eggs, meat, etc., in very decorative manners. The line of people wraps up and down an entire road, and around the Biserica. It is a quite beautiful site, as everyone is using many many candles.



About a half hour before sunrise the priest makes his first round, going around blessing everyone and faintly waving this incense. But this, my friends, is just the beginning.

He goes back in, another round of speaking, singing then he brings the singing outside for what I assume to be the little sprinkling of water.

Oh no my brothers, this was no sprinkling. In Moldova, a huge swath of some green thing is taken and dipped in holy water mixed with basil and mint and literally flung at everyone, and people are doused in this water. But not just the people, my brothers, but the bread, the meat, the eggs, and the bani.

---This was the moment, by the way, where I realized why people looked at me so funny when I tried to ask for basil in my food. It is used for religious purposes only in this country. Booo.

After the second baptism, people jet out of there. The sun is well on its way up, but not showing her face as of yet, and many people went back to bed. I know that my sister and I did.



Only to be woken up 1.5 hours later, and told to hurry! hurry! Walking into the living room with my PJs on and mussed hair, I realize that I'm walking into a family party, a family masa, completely unawares. There are cousins, and aunts, and piles and piles of food on the table. And a host father with a very large bottle of cognac. Dangerous.

Aşa, realizing there was nothing I could do about it, I sat down and downed a very large shot of cognac. It would have been impolitic not to.

Din Pacate, unfortunately, it's hilarious in people's minds to force the American to make a fool out of herself whenever possible, so I was prompted to speak quite often. "Spuneți, Rain, Spuneți!" My name in Moldova, by the way, is Rain. All Moldovan girl names end in A, and thus people are very confused when introduced to me. I've tried to gently direct the tone to Riă, the name of Gorbachav's wife, but to no avail. Despite my continual assurances that Rain is not my name, and is in fact the same thing as "ploua" in romaneste, it is, nevertheless, my new nomenclature..

Now as you can imagine, it's kind of difficult for a person to be put on the spot and made to talk. One feels a little pressure. Which is, in essence, exactly what I said - "este mai dificul sa spun in față mulți oamani". - it's difficult to talk in front of lots of people. Scoff and Nonsense! We're family! they say, no reason to be nervous! Actually, it's more nervewracking, I have found, to be in front of those who know you. Finally, I smiled sweetly, and said "poate eu voi vorbe mai multe cînd tu dai mîine mai mult cognaic" (Maybe I will speak more when you give me more cognac) and then I raised my glass and said "Mulți Ani, Mulți Bani, Mulți American!" and downed my glass.... Many years, Much Money, and many Americans, a decidedly wicked toast and not that flattering to Americans if I'm being all that truthful about it, as it is a toast that Moldovans make to each other to indicate that having Americans amongst them is akin to... oh, I don't know, letting the good times roll? Good financial times? Hopefully, you get the idea. This little speech got a rousing laugh, and a few pats on the back, and even a clap, with a "brava, Rain, brava" and an immediate refilling of my glass.

Thus began the day of three masa, and thus, three naps.

Oh, something I forgot was the face washing thing. It is tradition to wash your face with the dyed easter eggs. I'm kind of unsure as to the reason for this, but it does give your cheeks a nice healthy glow. As does, I'm sure, the cognac and the subsequent jugs of house wine.

On to the other traditions.... what to do with these red eggs? Well, there's a little bit of a luck game associated with them, kind of like our wishbone thing... two people knock their eggs together, and whoesever doesn't crack has good luck. Also, whoever knocks eggs together will meet in the afterlife. Cute huh?

Very cute, except for when the eggs aren't cooked all the way, and the cracked egg mess goes everywhere.

How about the raciture? De obicei, usually, raciture is chicken jello made from a cock - for easter, it was turkey jello, made from... whatever a male turkey is called. And in case you're interested.... (and really, who isn't?) here's a picture of turkey brain before the jello-ing process.



After the feast, children leave the house with bags and, basically, go trick-or-treating. Only it's easter. They go to People's Houses, say Christos Anviat! and get candy.

"Christos Anviat!"
Adaverat Anviat!"

The above is the greeting and the response that one is expected to make and give on easter and for the 40 subsequent days following. No more "Buna Ziua!" It's all about Christ Rising. Which, you know, is ok for the first two days, even for the first week because really, Easter here lasts an entire week, but for 40 days? It's started to wear on me a little. I admit to not responding back in the appropriate manner.

Exactly one week (or sometimes one week and one day, depending on your tradition) is Paşte de Morte - Easter of the Dead. This year, Easter of the Dead happened to fall on May 5th - Cinco de Mayo, which I thought was very appropriate.

Easter of the Dead is when families celebrate their ancestors by going to cemetaries and having picnics on their graves. They leave little presents of flowers, delicious cakes, candles and bottles of vodka and wine on the graves so that the dead know that they aren't forgotten. Folks pay the priest to do a special blessing for the dead, and all march around the graves three times, as a family and then singularly. I wonder, who cleans up after everybody leaves?

Then they come home for another masa. Perhaps two, depending on the family. There's another round of egg cracking, face washing, and cognac drinking.

Ah, Holidays.

"Christos Anviat!"
"Adaverat Anviat!"

Orhei Vecche

Before it is too late to actually talk about it, I want to report back on the trip that me and the rest of the former trainees took to a place called Orheiul Vecche.

Orhei Vecche is one of the most important archieological sites, if not *the* most important site, in Moldova. It is a strange place that lies in the midst of a strange geological formation.... a place that allows you to walk in the ruins of a Golden Horde bathhouse, crawl in the caves of Pre-Middle Ages Christian monks, and walk among the same cliffs that early man walked amongst - early man, as in *really* early man, the Neo-something or other, the cousins of the folks who were, at the same time, drawing those horses in France some 40,000 years ago.

Today Orheiul Vecche is a large site that lies between two super small villages. There is a large ridge that wraps around, and in the valley a "river" (more like a hyper creek) that wraps around a jut of land that must have formed a zillion years ago. In the ridge are many many many caves, carved out by previously mentioned early man and previously mentioned early Christians. We were told that the monks came to these caves to hide out when Chrstians were being persecuted for... something. Honestly, I'm not too sure of when and what they are referencing. The history of Moldova is varied and slightly confusing. This country is a hinge, a crossroads, and thus changed hands about a billion times.

Which is where the Golden Horde comes in. Apparently, at one point in time the area was controlled by Ghengis Khan, and he had some folks settle there, and they put in a bathhouse, a bathhouse that was, by all accounts and archieological evidence, an equal opportunity bathhouse.

Those Khan's were good for something.

Today, there is a large church that stands on the just of land, and there is still a monk/are still monks who live in the caves. We visited one, where I bought two icons and lit three candles, one for each of my grandmothers.

What I found to be most interesting was that, in the cave walls, people stick their coins - it's the Moldovan version of throwing pennies in a well or a fountain, I suppose.

I hope the pictures can do this place some justice. It was a very beautiful place, and very rich with history. There is something kind of thrilling about being there - I feel all Valley of the Horses and whatnot.








The cross above overlooks the valley... if you place your hand in the middle and make a wish, it's supposed to come true. Thus far, mine hasn't. The icon on the right is fairly typical of the icons seen *all over* the country.




Above are the caves that the monks lived in. The far right is the entrance to the cave that is still in operation... notice the ladder. (There is another entrance)



This is the ruins of the Golden Horde bathhouse.



The pennies and coins stuffed into the rocks of the caverns.

primul zile in chişinău

Yesterday was my first day at my new site, and the day I got sworn in. The day before all of us arrived in the city, got in our hotel rooms and immediately set out to do some of the things we had not been able to do in a long while.

Play on the internet.

Sleep.

Go to a restaurant.

Drink.

Without giving too much away, I'll admit that the last part caused a little bit of trouble. As I think I've mentioned, I was living at the Hub Site village, which meant that me and the rest of my five site mates were kind of segregated from the rest of our group. As such, I'm not quite as sure that we (well definitely not me) developed this intense bond with my fellow M22'ers that we've kept hearing about. I've developed this with a few of my site mates, but not so much with the rest of the folk - not that I don't really like everyone (because I so do). But half of them are in a different program (Agriculture and Business Development) and so not only have I not hung out with them, I haven't been learning with them, and the other half of my program are neighbors with everybody else, meaning that they all party with each other all the time.

What does this mean?

Well to emphasize, they have been partying this whole time. Me, not so much. So getting to Chişinău, meeting up with everybody and, what's becoming really important to me, some of the M18's, 19's, and 21's, I got a little excitable.

But I get ahead of myself.

I spent three hours at the Peace Corps offices on the internet, and do you know it took me over an hour to even remember to check the news? And then when I tried to write emails, I couldn't really do it? I have also, I'm ashamed to say, severally neglected this blog, something that I'm keenly aware of. But I honestly think that Moldova has broken me of my computer habit. Or, let me rephrase - broken me of my communication habit, because I still watch tv and/or listen to a shocking amount of things on my good notebook. Literally, I just kind of stared at the screen for quite a while - it was a little scary.

I have many people to write back, and, if I truly think about it, many things to write about. The birth and death of my family's baby turkeys. The Easter of the Dead, conveniently placed this year on Cinco de Mayo. There's the tradition of spitting on pretty things so that they don't get jinxed by admiration. There's the flinging of basil in the face, and the shock on people's faces when I say I want to use basil in food.

Later. Back to primul zile in Chişinău.

I roomed with Sarah and Eden, two girls who I've become pretty close to. That night, we went to this place called Robin's Pub which, incidentally, was the same place we went to take our language professors out to lunch as a thank you. The extravagences began there. A bottle of wine between two people. A glass or two after that when the bottle was done.

I was really excited because my mentor, Becca was there, and I've become very close to her. When she leaves in November I will become very upset. She was able to introduce me to a bunch of Moldovans living in Chişinău that were very nice, and seemed genuinally happy to have another PCV living in the city. I have exchanged numbers.

I had made plans ages ago to celebrate swearing in with some whiskey with some folk, which I did, and enjoyed. Then I went to another bar with some folks and drank a very tall glass of beer and argued with someone about three way interesections in Chicago. A fost no frumous. (it was not pretty).

I've spent the past two months having practically nothing to drink - ever. Maybe a glass of wine on holidays (and by glass, I mean shot glass). Sometimes, we would do a few rounds of wine shots. Aşa, this night, coupled with the fact that I smoked cigarettes for the first time in like, two months, was a pretty big night for me.

Sadly, going home at 12:30am did not alleviate the hangover the next day. I will not go into details, and I wasn't a bad as some, but yes, I was hung over at the Ambassador of America's house, where the Speaker of Parliament, President of Gaugauzia, two members of Parliament and multiple members of the Foreign service were in attendance.

At least I looked pretty. My host uncle from Peresecina was there and he said I was fuarte frumouasa - very beautiful. I will take him at his word.

I have brought shame on my house. Luckily, I think it was an unobservable hangover, and without naming accomplices or implicating others, I will again state that I was in no way the worst for wear.

Still, this incident did remind me of the dangers of living in a city such as this. my dance card will be full, so to speak, and the chances for me to get myself in dangerous situations will be abundant.

As per say, in the three weeks when the next group of volunteers come: TEFL and Health volunteers. The last new bunch for over a year. Le Sigh.

Updates (from sometime in April)

Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow.

Actually, one week from today, not tomorrow, but I'm about ready for it to be tomorrow.

I'm talking, of course, about placement. Chişinău. This blog is fixing to change.

It's ironic, of course, that as I finally get access... real access... to the internet and thus, the ability to post on this blog...

(I am, assuming, of course, that I actually do understand the definition of ironic).

I feel like I'm going to have to severely curtail what I say.

Or go deep undercover. Strip this blog of any indication of my identity or hints as to where I might be working or live.

I think this might have had to have happened no matter where I would have gone, but the need to do so is greatly amplified in the capitol where everyone has access to the internet.

I kind of like this whole idea of going undercover. Maybe I could come up with some code name for myself.




In other news. Language development? Meet mighty brick wall. Things are coming out of my mouth, and I don't know what I'm saying. I don't know whether that's good or bad, and I'm very unsure as to what's right or wrong anymore. Everything is becoming this mumble and and jumble of things, and I don't even know if I'm talking in the past, present or future, and they keep throwing new possibility of tenses at us. There's 8 possibility of conjugations for the present tense, not including the many, many, many irregular verbs, and just when I think that I've gotten the future tense down, they up and tell me that there's a more, more commonly used form that we haven't learned yet. and maybe one more form on past tense, and oh yay, don't forget the tense that seems especially to be used in children's stories. There's a reason I haven't been able to read my Hans Christian Anderson Fairy Tales in Romanian. Thumbelina, by the way, is called Digitela.

I recognize that English isn't all shiitake mushrooms and giggles. After all, I just wrote a sentence that consisted of "I think this might have had to have happened no matter where I would have gone." I mean christ, how many tenses in that? That's one highly complex sentence, neh? I have no idea where I would even BEGIN that sentence in Romanian.

My "mai mare probleme" or "very big problem" is that I think in pretty complex sentences. I'm a shades of grey thinker, ya feel me? And thus far, all I can speak is the most simple of sentences, the blackest of black and the whitest of white.

Agreements, conjunctive cases, subjunctive cases... not only do I hate them, I don't understand what they mean.

The way we're tested on our language development is we're sat in a room with someone and we have to have a conversation - about of families, friends, free time, work, past, present and future... we're asked questions, have to ask questions....

sounds simple enough, right?

Unless, like me, you kind of flip out at the insincerity of the situation, get all nervous, misunderstand half of the questions and start mixing tenses.

I never did well with this type of tests. I need to be able to write things out beforehand, memorize a speech, etc., etc., etc.....

Practice, after all, makes perfect in test situations. Or in front of people giving you grades. Unless you're not allowed to do either.

Good thing I've decided that I don't care how the test goes.




In other news one of the staff people here told us a story of her involvement in the creation of modern day Moldova, and I have to say that it was pretty thrilling to me.

Moldova is an interesting country in many many ways... trod upon by far too many people, most recently, obviously, by the USSR, who forced the Moldovans to change their language in such a bizarre way - they allowed them to keep speaking romanian, but they forced them to change from the latin to the Cyrillic alphabet, and the schools began to teach Russian. Then, in 1989, that year of change that even I remember, the rumblings of change reached into the hearts and minds of the people here and they decided to regain a bit of their souls and organized around around a single purpose....

to get their language back. Women and men from all over the country formed a movement, an illegal movement that cost people their jobs, their homes... and in some cases their lives. The Peace Corps staff person that spoke to our class was at University when she helped organize the movement, and she lost her position at her school when they discovered her involvement.

The movement called for the reinstitution of the romanian language in the schools, and the switch back to the latin alphabet from the Cyrillic. After months of actions across the country, on August 31st people from all across the country gathered in Chişinău, across from Parliament, and protested until the legislators had no other choice but to enact the called for legislation.

Cool huh? I so am in love with history and social movements.

Photographs of Sorocca (as promised)

The above is the landscape of Sorocca. The beautiful Pru River, looking across the Ukraine....



This is a monument, new, called the "Candle." It stands on a hill overlooking Sorocca, and is where I took the pictures overlooking the river.



These are the many, many, many steps leading up to the Candle.







We visited a very old and ancient synagogue on Purim....





The above are houses of the Gypsies, all of them live on the gypsy hill. In the second row, on the far right, is the House of the Gypsy King. Super Cool, eh?

As previously mentioned, it is a competition amongst them to see who can build the most impressive houses. I, for some reason, am most impressed with the wrought iron, but was delighted to see the oriol window....




And the above are icons froma chapel in Sorocca.


Gata. (That means done).