I’m sitting here on this beautiful Fat Tuesday listening to a little Bad Company, cookin’ some kidney beans for lunch, and have a budding feeling that this is exactly where I want, and need to be. As each day passes, I can sense Spring knocking on Winter’s door. This weekend we had a major thaw, and the thick, white blanket covering the countryside now has large, black, earthen patches, and the small, frozen streams now are bulging with melt water and floating ice chunks. On Sunday, we had the best weather in months, and I sat on the third story balcony of Peace Corps’ headquarters reading a book while soaking up the sun on the 50-degree, immaculately blue, bluebird day. It’s truly amazing what six hours of sunshine, a good book, rich coffee, and intermittent, entertaining company does for the soul.
I guess it has been awhile since I last posted, because I see on the last entry that the Saints hadn’t won the Super Bowl yet. It only took 44 years, but I want to congratulate the Saints, New Orleans, and the rest of my fair state for the big victory. I have really enjoyed hearing about the celebration in the French Quarter, and wish that I could have been down there with friends doing it up right. Needless to say though, I had a great time representing from this side of the pond, and was once again reminded how small the world can seem. I went with a group of friend to the Marine’s house who guard the US Embassy to watch the game. Kickoff wasn’t until 1:30 in the morning, and we had been killing time before hand by preemptively celebrating for whichever team was to win. When we got there, I met a Fulbright scholar that lives in New Orleans, and his girlfriend Bailey Edwards, who graduated from Louisiana Sate University at the same time as me. What makes things even more bizarre is that we have a couple friends in common, and she is from a small town in Louisiana called Abbeville, where it happens I worked for a summer and ate everyday at the diner Dupuy’s (Good food and great looking ladies) where she worked. I don’t know what the odds of meeting her in this tiny, underdeveloped country tucked away in Eastern Europe are, but I am guessing that they are quite slim.
Life in the village is going well. My partners and I are rocking and rolling on our water project grant. We got off to a rocky start, and it was quite difficult for me to get a straight answer, but we have come a long way, and we are seeing the first glimpses of the light at the end of the tunnel. When we finish I am planning on throwing a big masa for everyone involved, and try to show my appreciation for putting up with me nagging, hounding, and pestering them everyday trying to get the details clear and consistent, and in a way I could understand due to my level of Romanian. Hopefully by that time I will have moved out, and gotten a place of my own. My dreams of living in a cottage, with a big garden, and a couple chickens are quickly becoming derailed. People seem to think that it would be easiest if I live in an apartment, and even then my partner is worried that I will wither away from malnutrition. Everyday she confronts me about this decision, and I can tell she doesn’t buy the fact that I know how to cook, and I’ve been feeding myself for quite some time now back home in America. I’m pretty sure if she knew English, and had my mother’s phone number, she would call and fact-check me. Lately, she has started up again nagging me to find a woman to take care of me- cooking, cleaning, and whatnot. This is truly one of the more awkward conversations to have when you haven’t quite mastered the language; I’m almost positive that she peppers the conversation with sexual innuendos that would make it all the more awkward if I did understand everything she was saying. Anyways, I’m going tomorrow to check out an apartment near the center that I will probably be able to move into, if everything checks out, mid-March or early April. I’m content with this decision, and as much as I want to live in a remote village with the people, it will be nice to be close to work, the market, the bus station, and my gym. Speaking of the gym, yesterday I was summoned to the trainer’s house instead of working out, to learn wrestling techniques so I can participate in the village-wide wrestling match this spring. Winner gets a ram. I’ll keep you updated on that…
The M22’s are getting ready to depart in less than two months, and my group, the M24’s, are gearing up to integrate the new trainees arriving in country in June. The group coming in this year is the biggest one yet, and there will be 75 people coming in to start the rigorous two to three month training. I found out yesterday that I was selected with three other colleagues in ARBD as mentors to represent our program and to help the soon-to-be PCVs integrate into our surreal world. I’m looking forward to this opportunity, and even though I don’t feel like a veteran, yet, it will be nice to have fresh faces around. I’m off to eat my beans. Happy Mardi Gras to everyone, and good luck with the fast for all that is participating (Started here on Monday for those of the Eastern Orthodox faith). Noroc.
Hi there - RPCV here, and also a new expat in Moldova, spending a bit of time reading some volunteer blogs to see what life is like in the country. I just wanted to send a bit of encouragement your way - noticed a couple of posts back that you were kind of hitting the mid-tour reality check with the assessment of your contribution to the country, your counterparts' commitment (or lack of) to making progress, and money always coming into the equation. Anyway, it just reminded me of having the same feelings about my assignment and I think that it must be a pretty near universal stage in the 2-year process. So keep on keeping on, and all will be well. Of course there are those days on which, if a helicopter landed in your town and offered you a lift back to the States, you'd consider jumping on - but on the other hand if you didn't pass through all the hard parts then the Peace Corps wouldn't be worth it. In ten years you'll be passing on the encouragement to another volunteer somewhere. Anyway, keep up the good work and if you're passing through Chisinau I'd be happy to buy you a beer and hear some stories about life in the countryside! Best, Jeff
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