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.