Thanksgiving

I’d like to start this blog entry off saying happy birthday to my mother. Throughout this journey she has been there encouraging and inspiring me to do my best. She has definitely helped pull me through some dark moods while here, and I cannot thank her, and my family enough. Mulți ani și mult success inainte. Fii sanitos.

The weather here has been unseasonably warm, but I’m not complaining. The days have been averaging 13 degrees Celsius and nights around 0 degrees. Perfect fall weather considering I thought it was going to be snowing everyday and I would be a popsicle already. This past Saturday I went to my friend MacKensie’s village for hram, which I found out is the celebration of the village’s patron saint. His village, Chiștilniștă, celebrates hram on St. Michael’s day, as well as a lot of other villages from what I heard. The weather was really nice- the sun was shining, the air was crisp, and it wasn’t bitterly cold. I hopped on a bus headed to the capital, but since his village is off the main road by about 18 kilometers, I had to get off and blaze a different route. Since it was so nice outside I decided to stretch my legs and walk through two small villages before I stuck my thumb out for a ride.

The village that I went to is actually one of the largest in my raion with about 4,300 people. The gravel top road getting there was pretty tore up, and I suspect that in the wintertime it might be quite difficult to traverse. When I finally got a ride, the guy asked me where I was from and was absolutely shocked when I replied “America”. Some of the best conversations I’ve had now in Moldova have been with strangers that pick me up on the side of the road. It seems they are baffled that they just picked up an American that speaks their language (or tries to at least) in the middle of nowhere and they can’t help but be intrigued and probe to see what the hell I’m doing here.

When I got to my friend’s house, his little old baba made me feel right at home and made food appear out of nowhere; before I knew it we had a spread of meat, fish, potatoes, ratchatouri (cold meat in jello), fruit, bread, and dessert in front of us. This little old lady was awesome and carried around a pitcher of homemade rachui (distilled wine that has been turned into straight hooch that DEFINITELY puts some hair on your chest) around wherever she went forcing people to be happy and take a shot. Lots of family ended up coming over, and another volunteer that is our raion-mate joined us later that day for the celebration. It was a legit masa, decked out with food covering every square inch of tabletop, with several rounds of food coming in hot from the kitchen. It seems customary to start dinners off with a glass or two of champagne, move onto wine, and then to make sure you’ve got a good buzz they bust out the cognac or rachui. After the masa ended around 11, we wobbled down to the casa de nunta (wedding reception hall) in the center and danced the hora for a couple hours. The dancing was fun, but I can’t help but feel like a jackass when I dance the hora and somehow manage to screw up a seemingly easy dance. To make matters worse, all Moldovans are inherently good at dancing and start learning the hora before they are out of diapers and so all the Americans dancing their national dance is quite the spectacle for them. Mark my words, by the time I finish my service, I will be a horing machine.

The next morning we got up early for an 8:30 breakfast and had a repeat masa from the night before. Leftovers were spread out on the table in the same arrangement as the night before, and the baba kept coming by making us take shots of the devil’s water. After breakfast we decided to take a tour of the village. It was strange feeling walking through the foggy streets, buzzed off instant coffee and 150 proof homemade liquor, checking out the monastery and other sights. We had to make it back to the house for noon to make the bus that was going to pick us up so we wouldn’t have to hitchhike back to our villages. Once on the bus, MacKensie’s host mom came charging on with pitcher in hand and peer pressured everyone on the bus to take a shot, driver included. Once we got going, one of the old ladies that had been at our masa busted out a monstrous bottle homemade wine, and of course, kept filling the cup and passing it around until everyone on the bus drained a large shot glass. The driver was the last one to get the glass, but it would be impolite if everyone was drinking and he wasn’t, so hai noroc! I had to get off in the town Orhei to go grocery shopping, and I’m glad I got off that party bus when I did, I don’t think I could make it all the way to Chisinau.

This is completely unrelated, but remember what I said in my last blog post about garlic and onions helping the flu? In the New York Times this week there was an article about how the Moldovan army ordered tons of extra garlic and onions to help ward off the swine flu. I told my host mom about the article, and since then I have noticed we’ve been eating an unordinary amount of both. You eat whole garlic cloves here, and after dinner I make a beeline straight for the bathroom to brush my teeth. I’m going to have to cut that out if I decide to leave my village and see other people.

This week has been uneventful except for a couple unfortunate occurrences. We didn’t have running water for over a week, and when you run or go to the gym everyday, well you can imagine the odor. When we finally got the water back, I desperately needed to wash my clothes and figured I would give our Russian washing machine a whirl. I’ve never seen more buttons on an electrical appliance than on that washing machine, but it looked like it wouldn’t be too hard to figure out. There was one tiny problem however- it was all in Russian. Long story short, I now have a load of dark clothes that fit a midget. Fantastic.

The other thing that happened to me roughly follows the same theme and it took place when I was showering last night. I consider myself quite fortunate to be placed in a house with running water and a hot shower that I can use when the water actually decides to work. The bathtub is really slippery and when I was trying to soap my back I slipped, went crashing down pulling the curtain and rod with me, and the worst part is that I had the detachable shower head in my hand and the cord broke, causing water to start spraying EVERYWHERE. While lying there naked, wrapped in a shower curtain with water misting across my face I realized that I have the worst luck because this is not the first time I have slipped in the tub in Moldova. On the way down I smashed my head against the back of the tub, and now have a huge lump and a headache that won’t go away. Not only that but I ruined my hot shower amenity, and am going to be bucket bathing from here on out.

Speaking of a headache, it’s starting to pulsate and I’ve got to type up the December action plans for work. I would go into detail about my projects, but they are pretty stagnate right now and I am in the process of looking for financing for my greenhouse project. I can find tons of grants for US farmers, but none to start a project in Moldova. There’s got to be a way, and if there is I will figure it out. If worse comes to worst, I’m a walking tax deductible and will be hitting you all up for donations.

I hope each and every one of you has a very happy Thanksgiving, no matter if you are reading this from America, Europe, Asia, or Africa. I may not be with friends and family from back home this year, but I will be there in spirit. Thank you to everyone for all your supportive emails, letters, phone calls, text messages, care-packages, and messages on this blog. You all are truly my inspiration and sounding board, and even if I have never met you before, but you decided to respond to a post, thank you. Lastly, I would like to thank all my fellow Peace Corps volunteers- whether you are a RPCV or currently serving, I admire your courage, your dedication, and whether you realize it or not, you have made, and continue to make a difference. Thank you for helping make this world a better place.

On my walk down the main highway in Moldova.

Cool little road leading to the unknown.

Hey there buddy!

Random little church I found on the side of the road.

MacKensie's turkys with blue paint on them. I call them the Blue Meanies

MacKensie's yard and his mean man-eating geese

Barn and casa mare
Pretty sure this is a corn crib, but I remember reading in books as a kid that people would sleep in their corn cribs (Where The Red Fern Grows is a good example). This just doesn't look comfortable.
The basement with the preservatives for winter and the wine barrels in the background.
Cows are coming home.
Round one of the masa
Not really sure where this bridge came from.
Monastery
Crucifix
La joc doing the hora at the casa de nunta