just try me rat dog

I’m really good at sleeping. But lately a symphony of neighborhood dogs has been keeping me up between midnight and 2am. They’re so cute and peaceful laying in the yard throughout the hot hours of the summer heat, but come what should be the calmest moments of the night… bark bark bark. Bark Bark Bark. BARK BARK BARK. 30 second break. Repeat. If I had less of a soul, I would feed every last one of them copious amounts of dark chocolate. Let them go out on a good note ya know? A few nights ago, I went to bed to Romanian T.V. blaring downstairs, a loud Skype conversation happening in the room next to me, a ticking coo-coo clock in my room, and the dogs… always the dogs. I took the batteries out of the clock and turned on some soothing Bon Iver right next to my head until I could fall asleep. One more night down. The worst of the dogs is my own host family’s mangy old mutt that never leaves its chain (maybe it would bark less if it had the joys dogs should be entitled to). It has a bark like it’s been smoking its whole life and is on its way to a throat injected breathing tube. Raspy bark after raspy bark all. night. long. So I’ve started training it in between my disturbed sleep cycles. It barks, I pry myself from bed with my head-lamp in hand and shine it into a huddled corner of the yard. I turn my light off and wait for the barks to return, turn my light back on and start throwing little apples at it. Problem solved. Mostly. Now all I have to do is shine my light to stop the barking all night, though I’ve also been given earplugs which come in handy when the roosters engage in their crow off every. single. morning. The newness of this adventure is fading into the reality of Moldova being my home and I’m making adjustments as needed.

The summer heat is slowing me down and I stay coolest when I am motionless… sleeping (mid day when the dogs are silent).  This only happens on Sundays as we stay busy the rest of the week with language and technical training eight hours a day. Thursdays are capital days where all the groups (English Education, Health, Business, and Community Development) meet up for Peace Corps briefings on culture and safety. Saturdays are half days in our own villages and we usually spend the afternoons getting to know our village and spending time relaxing with each other over dollar (10 to 15 lei) beers (the average price for a pint everywhere in Moldova, they’re equivalent to Coors but refreshing non-the-less).                        

Yesterday was our first day with clearance to leave our village to travel for leisure. A group of us went to Ialovin (a Raion center, similar to a county center in the States) to chill with the Russian EEs that live there. On the way home, the routira was packed, and kept getting packed tighter. I’d been warned about this, but had yet to see it in action. At our first stop, I was the last one on. I sandwiched myself between the door and Hayle, and was uncomfortably close to a short, elderly, Moldovan man. He was at about boob level and kept a steady stare on me until the next stop when a seat became available. While it was uncomfortable, I preferred the staring at my face to the eye level stare as I don’t yet know how to say “my eyes are up here” in Romanian. Each stop let on more and more passengers without any getting off, but everyone remained pleasant. The three of us that were traveling together laughed at how crammed it was getting. The locals were laughing too, but I’m not entirely convinced it wasn’t at us. Regardless, everyone in that routiera, no matter how accustomed they are to traveling on them, recognized the physical discomfort of that ride. Stepping out into 80 degree heat was refreshing, especially when a slight breeze cooled us after our natural sweat baths. I’m just releasing toxins erry day (also thank goodness for fiber pills and multi-vitamins).

Getting Aquainted

There are three key things I like to do when getting acquainted with a new place. I like to learn the public transportation system. I like to buy food in the local market or supermarket and cook a meal at home. And I like to peruse the town on foot or on bike… generally at high speeds. Two weeks in and I’m getting my bearings.

I have to take the routiera (a public bus) into Chisinau every Thursday (and sometimes more) and I’m already comfortable and familiar with the route. Though there is no set schedule (the locals seem to know otherwise but can’t direct you where to find one), if you wait long enough, or walk far enough to another station, you can catch a ride. The total trip one way, which takes about an hour, costs 10lei, which amounts to about 90cents. The first couple trips I was jetlaged and emotionally exhausted and managed to pass out despite the potholes, stops and swerves. This was one of the moments I appreciated Peace Corps “holding our hands” as we assimilate to our new surroundings. I would have been lost for days if they only showed us the route once. But now, I’m excited to play musical busses in town and see just where I end up and what I can find.

            I eat a lot of brown hewed food. Potatoes. Bread. Rice. Rice pudding. Boiled chicken. Biscuits. Processed chicken dogs. Oatmeal. Malt-o-meal. Black tea. Coffee. I’m happy and appreciative to be so taken care of, especially with such long days in language and technical training. But, I also wonder what my host family is doing with all those carrots, onions, and zucchini they have sitting in giant bags outside. One night I got home before my mama-gazda (host mom) and was elated to have the chance to cook something myself. But by the time I had figured out the kitchen and where things were, mama-gazda came home and made mashed potatoes with bread for dinner (there is bread at e.v.e.r.y. meal, they take their carbs seriously here). So the next night, Haley (another volunteer who is living with mama gazda’s daughter Veorica), got reeled into staying at our house for dinner. Nothing had been started, and we were both ready to be hungry, so I asked if we could make them a meal. Everyone liked the idea. There was chicken that had been de-thawing all day, and all the tantalizing vegetables waiting to be chopped and cooked outside. We made a stir-fry seasoned with basil and pepper and roasted the potatoes and chicken in the oven with garlic and rosemary. There wasn’t enough chicken for everyone though, so mama-gazda went somewhere (not sure where) and brought back the biggest hunk of beef I’ve ever seen. She put it directly on the table and asked me (through sign language and Romanian I couldn’t understand) how to cut it. I showed her through sign language and useless English) I wanted it cubed. In the end it got done and we simmered it in the stir-fry until it was cooked all the way through. In the end, everyone enjoyed the meal. But, they did say it could have used more salt (you would love the salty food here Pops ;). Turns out salt and dill are their main seasonings. And sometimes, one might think their only seasonings.

            Tonight, I went for my third run thus far in Moldova. I’ve been sticking to the roads I’m familiar with, or following friends to their houses, or running to places I know how to get to. But I live near the top of a hill, and I prefer to end my run going down not vise versa. So tonight, I took off as the air was cooling off and ran to the top of the hill (there are seven total in Costesti). I took a right and ran towards the sunset (it was fantastic). I ended up on a wagon wheel, two rut, road that wound down towards the lake. It got less and less clear the further I went, but I was already committed. “The Naked and Famous” was blaring in my ear and I couldn’t wipe the ear-to-ear euphoric smile off my face (I may also have been laughing out loud, but I was in the middle of the hills and there are no witnesses to testify). Near the end of the hill, I came across a younger farmer reaping a field of tall grass. I didn’t take much time to observe the scene as I was by myself, not exactly sure where I was, and seemingly alone with a man holding a giant reaper. He was staring, because a) no one runs here and b) where the H*$# did this chick just come from? So I took out my ear-buds (now blaring some Kanye) to say “Buna Seara”. He responded in Romanian (as to be expected), I had no idea what he said (also to be expected), so I replied “nu vorbesc Romaneste” as I slowed to be polite. He lifted his reaper (why? I will never know, but it wasn’t the most welcoming gesture) and motioned for me to come over to him (yea right Mr. Moldovan Grim Reaper, you put your weapon down), to which I said “exercitiu” and made ridiculous running motions with my arms before continuing on my way. You know that super ditzy girl in scary movies that’s usually the first to go? I felt like her until I got to a place I was familiar with, and admittedly looked over my shoulder more than once until I got there. (It’s not as bad as it sounds Mom, Moldova is safer than most places I could have been assigned and it was more my creative imagination getting the better of me than any real threat). Turns out my exploratory run landed me right at the center of town with the same daunting hill before me I was trying to avoid. No matter, I still loved every moment of that run.

I want to add a fourth category to my “get to know you escapades”, but it’s not one that I can’t create or plan. The unexpected adventures. They always make a trip better, more memorable. Last week Haley and I got caught in a torrential downpour a thirty-minute walk away from our trolley stop (the number 10 trolley in front of Tucanos and next to the giant flower bizarre). The shoe salesman whose store we were in implored us, in the kindest and most concerned of gestures, to stay inside and wait it out… because that’s what you do here. I gave him a smile, pointed at my wrist, shook my head and said “nu tempul” (totally wrong grammar, but I think it got the point across). He gently shrugged his shoulders and watched us exit into the storm. One of my favorite moments thus far has been that crazy twenty-minute sprint through a heavy shower of spring rain. We laughed our crazy laughs and giggled our irresponsible giggles as we ran past Moldovan’s wisely waiting under covers and in stores. The rain lightened up about as soon as we got to our destination, and we sat soaking wet all the way home. But it was awesome, and I smiled all the way back to my house.

the comfort of hârtie igienică (toilet paper)

Day three here in Moldova, with less than a week away from home, and I’m comfortable, safe, and enjoying the adventure. There are moments (I’m embarrassed to admit) that I get grumpy at the idea of this being my new home for the next 27 months, but I find solace in the fact that my fellow trainees share my sentiments. One of the most comforting things my Aunt Donna told me before I left home was that the people I would meet during my service would become some of my closest friends. I didn’t doubt her, but I also didn’t realize how quickly that would become a reality. While I miss home already (it’s too easy to let the longevity of this commitment settle in my heart and mind), I am now actually looking forward to the development of new friendships (but I swear they’ll never replace what I already have and cherish at home!). My new fear now (aside from the continues one of Moldovan winters), is finishing training and having to live away from these people I am now building bonds with. But alas, when I am focused enough to remain in the very present of each moment, I really am able to enjoy the adventure, beauty, and newness of Moldova.

Yesterday, we were shown around Chisinau, that capital city, for a couple hours. The market was hussling and bussling with foods, spices, home items, clothes, and craft items (oh the stimulation)! Sun flower oil is in high abundance and I’m looking forward to doing some of my own cooking. My host mother feeds me three meals a day, and they all consist of items in a brown hue. I’m incredibly grateful to be taken care of so well, but I do miss my fruits and veggies. Last night, my family asked me what I like to eat, and I told them fruits and vegetables. Tonight, they brought home a big juicy watermelon. I cried on the inside from joy. But it looks like I’ll finally be using that outdoor, hole in the ground, outhouse tonight (the indoor bathroom is for flushable liquids only).

One interesting thing about Moldova (I’m sure I’ll be sharing more) is that they don’t often provide toilet paper in bathrooms, private or public. I’m still learning the hard way to bring my own as I have yet to find a good alternative in the bathrooms that I do use. I don’t know whether it’s bathroom stress or good timing on my part, but I’ve so far been able to stave off using the outhouse. My fingers are crossed I don’t get the dreaded giardia we have already been warned about in excess. They’ve (Peace Corps) has told us to stay away from strawberries, cheese, and mushrooms… yea right! Not when that motzarella looks so juicy or those berries look so fresh. What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger right? …If no one hears from me in a week, it’s probably because I’m spending it in the outhouse.

            We’re incredibly taken care of while still left to learn a lot on our own. Yesterday while traveling in our EE (English Education) group, Chanel and I were almost stuck on a bus to who knows where (we couldn’t pull our money out to pay in time) until a local yelled “Opri! Opri!” (stop) at the driver. Today I wondered through rows of houses in my neighborhood peering through gates and fences until I finally found my home after being dropped off by the bus. I’m the only English speaker living with my host family, but they take care of me like I’m their relative and I can already recognize how much quicker I’ll pick up the language. Two months here and I’ll be more proficient in Romanian than I am in Spanish after studying it for three years. Today I made earrings with/for my host sister Cristina because she saw pictures of the ones I’d made on Facebook (loved that moment). This morning my host mom woke me up with a booming “Bună dimineaţa!” because my alarm had not gone off and all I could respond with was a bewildered “good morning” as no Romanian was flowing through my mind after a dead sleep (how long does jet lag take to fade?).

            In conclusion, while I miss so much about home already, I find comfort in the beauty of new relationships and adventure… and toilet paper, when I remember to bring it with me.

Welcome to Moldova

Today, as in the past 48 hours, has been exhausting. We started by packing up all out stuff at the hotel in Philly and lugging it onto two giant charter busses headed for JFK. Peace Corps gave us nine hours to get there, get checked in and find our gate. We had about 5 hours to spare when we got through security, but it’s better safe than sorry. I was able to check my carry on as a third piece of checked luggage for no fee and was relieved not to have to lug it around with me.

JFK time flew by with the only thing really making me bitter being the prices of food. Ten dollars for a tuna wrap and another ten for a Stella? Not on my dime.  New York to Munich was over in a flash. Sitting next to Liz (a health education volunteer) the whole way, I didn’t leave my seat once. I watched “Identity Thief” (loved it), listened to my iPhone music (that can either make me homesick or comforted), read Brothers Karamazov on my kindle (thanks Mom and Dad) and slept real hard. Other volunteers were impressed by my ability to just pass out… I told them it’s a blessing and a curse.  I woke up to breakfast in front of me and only an hour left in the flight. At Munich, we had just enough time to change, freshen up and stretch out before boarding our final flight to Chisinau. I sat next to Chanel and found my Peace Corps kindred spirit. We talked most the way about our shared anxieties of making our time worthwhile, justifying the sacrifice of leaving friends and family behind, worrying about career progress, and reminiscing about ended relationships (both coincidently five months in duration).

Upon landing in Chisinau, greetings and the beginnings of PST was a whirlwind. Current volunteers took such good care of us, hauling and packing and stacking our luggage into a transporting truck and getting us situated on the bus to our hub site. Pizza and soda for lunch, then a couple hours of country briefing and director/manager introductions. I don’t remember most of it as my  blessing/curse for sleeping overtook me and I submitted to head bobs and fluttering eyelids. Oops. After this exhausting “sit” time, we were shuffled about, given phones or sim cards (I kept my iPhones with the intention of maintaining my 3G network here) given “walk about money” (25 lei a day, or $2) and an envelope of cash to give to our host family. All the English Education volunteers were shuffled off to one village and given the luxury of a rutirea (generally a jam packed public transportation bus) all to ourselves. Five of us to one, our suitcases were stacked to the ceiling as we set off.

I was less anxious to meet my host family than I was to stay awake much longer. But upon arriving at my new home for the next ten weeks, I was encouraged and delighted to find that I would be living with a mother and daughter (Domnica and Cristina-16) who appeared to also be caregivers to their grandson/nephew of 15 months. This little guy was the icebreaker of any awkward language barrier tension as we were all happy to give him our attention and affection. Any wink or gesture I sent his way gave him the biggest smile and he couldn’t keep his eyes off this new guest in the house.

Cristina, who speaks more English than I speak Romanian, showed me to my room and around the house. I have definitely been given the largest and most private room of the house, which was humbling upon realization. My bed is larger than what I’ve been sleeping on the past 5 months and more comfortable than I could have hoped… though I will have to get used to the sticky starchiness of the sheets. The closest think I can relate their feel to is that of a hospital beds. But I am so happy for it! Domnica and Cristina made a mashed potato and meatball dish for dinner that was absolutely delicious but all I could say was “multumesc”, which means thank you, as the only two Romanian words I knew were that and buna (hello). We picked and ate cherries off their cherry tree outside and Domnica showed me the outhouse, apparently only necessary for dumps as there is a full bathroom inside (another first world problem relief). I soon released myself to my room to settle in and unpack, looking forward to a bit more language training starting tomorrow. Host families were all informed that we would be exhausted from travel and mine was so kind and accommodating in letting me have some personal time to debrief while still remaining available for any questions or help I needed. Once settled, I sat on the bed with my legs up the wall to help with the swollen ankles (first time kankles) I’d developed during flight and travel over the past few hours. They have since vanished and I am ready for some deep, horizontal slumber.