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).