Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Back to It

The following pictures are from Mereni, Moldova where I helped out with a childrens camp my friend Dan put on in his village. Poftim:

Walking to Dan's, another PCV, house.

Girl's got an arm on her.

Attempting kickball.

Choosing teams.

Sharing experiences in the classroom.

The human knot!

Gathering everyone together for an activity.

Choosing the site for Sports Day at a children's camp.

Ah yes, alas, a new blog post. I recently returned home to the States for a brief vacation to attend my sister’s wedding. While there I updated most of you (my blog’s readers) in person so you should probably stop reading now (just kidding). Summer is coming to a close and with that means the 95+ degree temperatures are soon to be over, and harvest season will be upon us. That also means all the fresh summer produce is getting thrown into jars of saltwater and stored away in basements; sad thing for me is that I don’t have a basement. I’ve lived through a winter eating nothing but canned foods already, and I’ve got to say, besides the canned peaches it’s not all that it’s cracked up to be.

Work wise I have been grinding through the introductory phases of several grants. This is very much a process- at times it can be discouraging, but every now and then the skies open up and the sunlight aluminates our dedication. Other than that, I’ve been teaching a fair amount of computer lessons, and have gotten to opportunity to work with kids in several different summer camps.

As I mentioned earlier, I recently returned from a trip back home. Well, home was only part of it. I spent three days in Baton Rouge, and the rest of the time on Orcas Island off the coast of Seattle. It was great to go home although I overextended myself and was scraping the bottom of the barrel halfway through trying to find the energy just to stand. The place itself is funny; in some ways it seems as if everything has changed, and in others it is exactly the same. I can iterate how much it meant to see my family and spend time with my friends. It was definitely difficult saying goodbye, especially knowing that after every vacation you take you experience a twinge of post-vacation blues. The worst was coming back from Turkey in the winter (In Istanbul it was sunny and 60 degrees, Moldova was -5), and I went through a two-week slump. I can finally say that I have rounded the corner and have experienced a January-in-August moment, and have set new goals and aspirations for my second year of service.

Adjustment back to the village life is actually quite amusing, it’s almost like coming back from the dead in some ways. When I greet people on the street they always, without fail, say “We thought you left for good. How was America? Is it better than here?” My answer to this question is second nature now, and I honestly believe in what I tell them. America isn’t better than Moldova- it’s merely different. Sure the level of development is lacking in Moldova, but the traditions, values, and closeness of the Moldovan culture is something to be admired. You often hear stories of PCVs returning home to America and going through a severe culture shock. I can’t say that’s how it was for me. Sure, I experienced it to a slight degree. It was quite overwhelming hearing English everywhere, flushing toilet paper in the toilets, and the endless amounts of produce in the grocery store, but what really got to me was the realization of how much time we, as Americans, spend in transit. Think about how much time you actually spend in your car per day. I had to run errands over the several days I was home and it is absurd thinking that just running to the grocery store, to a friend’s house, and back was over an hour in the car, if not more. I think back on all the trips to Starbucks for the sole purpose of getting coffee. I mean COFFEE, what the hell, I could have easily put in a filter in my coffee pot, poured in the grinds and water, pressed a button, and within three minutes have a steaming cup of quality joe in my hands (I say quality because when you subsist off nothing but instant coffee, ground coffee tastes like heaven). Instead I, like many others, decided to get in my car, drive 10-15 minutes down the road, pull through the drive thru listening to talk radio, pay nearly five dollars for a coffee, and then take the drive back. Absolutely ridiculous. OK, I’m done ranting.

A week and a half has gone by and slowly I am able to tune out the roosters in the morning, and the dogs at night. Also one of the more prominent indicators that I am adjusting back to village life is that all my clothes are starting to get that worn look again and are probably omitting a slight odor. I guess it’s time to throw them in the garden tub and get to work. Sitting here now I notice a large drip stain on my brand new pants and am paranoid that it won’t come out, no matter how hard I scrub.

I’m at work now and really need to get back on the grind. My village’s hram is this weekend and I am planning on inviting some friends up for the celebration. Refer back to my post from last August about this particular celebration. I’ll be sure to take lots of pictures and update you all. For now, adios.

Top of Mt. Constitution. Orcas Island, Washington.