I was somewhat skeptical how the conference was going to shape up when it began, because my partner was a little upset with yours truly from the get-go. To my defense, we had a slight miscommunication problem, which led to her standing on the side of the road for over an hour in 0°F weather. Before you jump to conclusions about how I’m going to hell in a hand basket for letting this poor old lady stand out there for so long, let me explain. We had agreed that I would buy two bus tickets in my village when I went to the bus station and got on the bus in the morning. She lives about fifteen minutes down the road and anyone that wants to get on there must stand on the side of the road and wait for the bus, or car, to pick them up. I told the driver that I had another passenger getting on at her village, and he agreed to stop once we got there and pick her up. Let me mention now that my cell phone had literally a tenth of a penny left of money on it, and I wasn’t able to place any phone calls. We pulled over at her village, a couple people get on, but no Doamna Larissa. “Oh shit this is going to get complicated” was all I could think at the time. Fifteen minutes later after trying to use two peoples’ phones next to me, who also didn’t have money on their cell phones, she called me and asked where I was. I explained that I was on the bus, but that it had already left. Communication error number one- while she thought I meant my village, I thought it was clear that we had already left her village meaning that she needed to get on another bus. An hour down the road she calls me again asking, yelling would be a better verb, where I’m at and why hasn’t the Telenesti bus come by yet. Once again I explain to her that the bus had left a long time ago and I was almost to the capital. The high pitch shrill and goads of God-knows-what language that followed was enough to turn the heads of everyone on the bus in my direction before she hung up on me mid-shriek. Clearly, communication error number two.
At this point I was torn between trying to get off the bus as soon as possible, buy a phone card to recharge so I could call her back, or to wait it out, get to Peace Corps, and let my Program Manager defuse the situation. I chose the latter, not that it mattered much because five minutes later she called back screaming at me. I honestly didn’t catch one word she said, and so as not to waste her money (and breath), and my embarrassment from having gained the unwanted attention of everyone on the bus, I hung up on her. I know this sounds bad, but I swear this isn’t as frowned upon as it is elsewhere in the world. Come to think of it, I rarely have a phone conversation without someone hanging up on me here- they say what they want and get off the phone.
Once I got to Peace Corps I got help from my Program Manager and he called her and helped explain the full extent of my story. That seemed to help calm her down a little, and for the first couple hours in the conference I could tell she was quite agitated. After three days of being forced to sit together and work on our water project we both left in good spirits and everything is back to normal.
I’m back in my village now. Each day blends into the next and if it weren’t for my calendar I would seriously think I was stuck in the movie Groundhog’s Day. There is a subtle, but noticeable change with the length of the days, and instead of getting dark at 4pm like it has been throughout the winter, the sunlight lasts until 5:30. I can’t wait for spring. Warm weather is simply part of who I am. Winter here isn’t bad though, sure it’s cold, there’s ice and snow everywhere and it takes about 20x longer to do anything than in the summer, but the icebreaker for me is the melancholy of the season. I’m not depressed and I feel healthy, but the pep is out of my step. The passing of the time is strange- one week I feel there is a ton going on, lots of good work to do, and then the next it’s like getting slammed into a brick wall. Nothing, nada, zip, time to just hold on, hunker down, and grind out the hours. I went back and read my blog entries that I’ve posted since moving to my village and noticed that every single project idea that I’ve written about has gone nowhere. This is the painstaking part of this job- no progress. I know what we do here has more to do with grass root connections, but you would think on the professional aspect something would have materialized by now. I started to divulge deeper into this, but for your sake, and more for mine, I deleted it.
It’s almost time for dinner now. We eat late at my house, usually around 9:30, entirely too late in my opinion. Dinner is the same day-in, day-out as well. I get called into the kitchen, it’s either going to be mashed potatoes, macaroni, or soup. My host sister complains that she was given too much food and that she is going to be fat. Then we talk about my day. Usually my host sister chimes in claiming that she doesn’t like the egg yoke, or the carrots, or whatever it else it might be that night that serves as an interruption. She then is scolded for not eating, and she tries to sneak the food onto my host mother’s plate. Scolded again. By this point my host mother remembers we need wine and asks us rhetorically if we want a glass. I say yes, my host sister says no. It’s not like it matters much because we get a large shot glass anyways and are told to drink up. My host mother’s cell phone rings constantly and usually she runs off after the shot of wine to answer it, leaving Corina and myself at the table. After one or two failed attempts to get a conversation going (Last night it was me asking if there was any other way to say “yes” or in Romanian “da”, because I got to thinking that in English there is “yes”, “yeah”, “uh-huh”, “yup”, etc, but all I got back from Corina was a blank stare) I give up, finish up the last of my dinner, wash down the rest of the wine, and go back to whatever it was I was doing. In this case, I’ll be back in twenty to finish this blog.
Tonight it was mashed potatoes and a fried egg, and everything else played out just as I detailed above. Tomorrow it will be the same, but at least it’s one step closer to the weekend. I’m headed back into Chisinau this weekend, although probably just for Sunday night. Time to watch the Super Bowl. I don’t know if I would make an hour and a half trip into the capital on a work night to go to the marine’s mansion and watch a football game that starts at 2 or 3 in the morning, but this year calls for special circumstances. Hell has frozen over and the Saints are going to the Super Bowl! The first year I ever move out of my beloved homeland and the Saints get called up to the bigs. What a funny world we live in.
As always, thanks for reading and GUEAX SAINTS!
Who Dat! I wonder what the temperature difference was between Moldova and Miami at kick-off? Just kidding. Keep up the good work and remember most people never even attempt to do something as bold as what you are currently undertaking.
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