We had to walk around the church a couple times listening the priests say prayers.
Leading the group.
This chair signified something important in a museum, I just don't remember what, sorry.
My kitchen.
Main road in Ialoveni.
Wine factory in Ialoveni. You could fill up a one liter bottle full of wine for a dollar.
My view from my window. I live in a building that looks exactly the same.
Salut. I'm starting this blog off at the office this morning. Yes, I know I should be working and not surfing the web, but if you consider what I actually do here on a daily basis, this is being productive. This is only due to the fact that I am still very new to my community, and I still haven't gotten the language under my belt. My first week of work I only had to go into the office for three days. The first day I sat at my desk, studied limba romana, and read a book. The next day my ag extension office put on a seminar for apiculture. It was a great seminar, set in amongst apple trees and boxes of bees. We had a feast for lunch, and took the afternoon off. The next two days my partner went to Chisinau so I bummed around my village, studied, and read. Then Friday comes, I'm at work for 30 minutes and my partner tells me he has to go to the hospital and I need to lock up at 5. To tell you the truth, I was fine flying solo, except when the phone would ring. I don't think I got one message right. My partner should have known that was inevitable. That was also the day I ran an immigration office for Quebec. I might have mentioned that in my earlier blog post.
This week has shown a little more promise. Monday we were running spreadsheets in Excel and I was told to brace myself, that it was going to be a long couple of days. I finished them all in four hours. My partner was so stunned that he gave me the biggest gold-toothed smile and a bear hug. After that we celebrated over a beer at lunch, and I was then informed that since all the work was complete I didn't have to go to work the next day. Usually this would be music to my ears, but if you would understand the boredom that off days bring, you would want to be at work yourself.
This sounds all gravy in black and white. But really, since moving into my new site, my head has been all out of sorts. It is slowly getting better though. I attribute this to the fact that I only understand about 10% of, well, everything. It is a very humbling experience, and it leaves no room for ego. So now I'm back to peaks and valleys. I've extended my running a considerable amount, and am now hitting the trails for about an hour and a half every other day. These are the days I look forward to the most. The runs help me put things into perspective; two years has the perception of a long time, but one step at a time, one day at a time, perseverance is inevitable.
These runs also help me sleep at night, because man, do I have a dog problem. Sorry Mom and Dad, but I'm going to have to call you out on this one. You think you have a problem getting a goodnights rest when your neighbor's dog likes to bark all night? Multiply that noise by 50 more dogs, barking, howling, snarling, and fighting, all night, every night. Stray dogs are everywhere here. A friend of mine and I were going to take pictures of them and start a fauxblog called "Adopt a Dog". However, I can't bring myself to do this anymore, because I can't stand the sight of dogs. They really need to implement an extermination program here. I'm sure PETA is ready to crucify me for that comment, and in anticipation of that I say "F---You. Come spend one night here and you will empathize with me." I'm all about saving the whales and believe in animal rights, but when I can't walk down the street without at least one dog sizing me up and trying to bite me, that's when I say there is a problem. It's odd, though, that the most vicious of them all are the little dogs (I've always been a fan of big dogs, having owned several of them, I know they're rowdy and energetic, but what's the point of a little one? Just get a cat, much quieter). I've got a feeling that one of these little yippers will be getting a booting if they don't watch out.
Saturday I went with journalist friend to a town an hour away for the one year birthday of a Catholic church. It was a beautiful service that lasted for two hours and was given in Romanian, Russian, and Italian. I was forced into communion, my first time for a Catholic mass. A) I'm not Catholic and B) I'm not even baptized. I don't have a disposition with the fact that I let a spongy, tasteless wafer dissolve on my tongue, because in my eyes it was just another experience, but I realize that this is probably taboo for Catholics; Get over it, I feel that dedicating two years of my life towards volunteering and helping others off-sets the opinion that I'm going to hell.
After the service we had a feast next door, and I had to privilege of dinning with the holy men- the head of the Moldovan Catholic Church, two priests from Italy, an Orthodox priest, and two Moldovan priests. Let me just say, these guys know how to drink. After four courses of food, many shots of wine, whiskey, and cognac, I was feeling good (I abstained from a good amount of the debauchery rounds too), and ready for a nap. In true Moldovan fashion, I dug deep, tapped into energy reserves, and hitchhiked home.
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Further evidence that I am no longer in America:
1) Today I woke up with a sore throat. It happens right? Well my host mother is a social worker/nurse, and her medical opinion is that I'm sick because I drink cold water. I told her I didn't think that was the reason, because I've been drinking cold water my entire life, most of the time with ice. She responded "I don't drink cold water and I don't have a sore throat." Statements like that remind me of the LSAT....
2) At restaurants and in every ones houses there is a bowl of salt, no salt shaker. When you want salt, you lick your fork, dip it in the bowl, and then eat your food. I don't eat salt here. Also, at restaurants there is usually a half eaten hot pepper in the bowl of salt. If you want to soak it in your soup, by all means, go ahead. If you want to take a bite out of it, that works as well, they simply put it back in the bowl of salt, leaving it for the next customers. I don't eat the peppers here either.
3) I told my partner I need a tutor, he told me I need a woman. After lunch he paraded me around town trying to find me one. I told my host mother about this, and she replied that he is crazy and I shouldn't listen to his nonsense, but I do need to start thinking about marriage, to either a Moldovan or American. Do you see what kind of pressure I'm under?
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As I've mentioned, I run a good bit here. I don't know what I'm going to do during the winter since there will be several feet of snow and mud on the ground. But for now I am the village idiot, and get the Moldovan stink eye every time I pass someone running. My host mother finally asked me why I waste my time running. Knowing how much the Moldovans appreciate competition, I told her I am training for a race, and that seemed to satisfy her. So with that I committed myself to running the Athens Classic Marathon in Greece next November. If any of you want to join in on the fun by running or simply being there for moral support that would be fantastic.
I see hurricanes are starting to brew in the Caribbean. My door is open to any evacuees, I assure you I can show you a good time here. La revedere!
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