Monday, May 31, 2010

Fresh Volunteers

Our trainings for the "Be the Volunteer, Be the Change" campaign came to a turning point on Saturday. Officially, it was the projects closing date, though I won't say the work is done. We picked a hand-full from among the over two-hundred youth we first spoke to about volunteerism to attend the training, during the course of the training, not all the youth continued to show interest. I cannot consider this a tragedy, for I would rather spend my time with a dozen dedicated individuals than a hundred disengaged teenagers. Here we are posing in our new t-shirts at the end of the day. I wanted to do tie-dye, but it probably wouldn't have been "frumos" (pretty) enough.

To recap, this project took us out into seven villages where we spoke to youth about volunteerism and the concept of a local youth council (where I work!). We then selected youth from each village to come to our center and learn more. For four weeks, we taught courses on leadership, public speaking, garnering support from local partners, and how the youth groups cam officially register as a non-governmental organization with the district's department of youth and sports.

I am thrilled to report a glimpse at our results:

[+] Two groups of youth already visited their mayor and struck ground and agreements of partnership. One mayor even gave the youth a room inside city hall (primaria) to house their council.
[+] Each group of youth had homework throughout the training. One assignment was to conduct a volunteer activity in their community. This resulted in organized clean-up days in two of our villages. One group cleaned a stream area, another their sports stadium. I asked what the average passerby had to say to the latter group. A proud young lady responded, "Everyone came to thank us for taking the initiative to clean up a mess that affected the whole community."
[+] This week I am going out to facilitate a SWOT Analysis with one of the more developed groups of youth. This way, I hope we can identify what comes next for the group.
[+] My partner gets to finish her first go at the project planning process, as this week we are tasked with writing a report to the funders that helped us pull off the project.

A Flower Town Visit


A snapshot from a recent start-of-summer celebration in a town named after flowers.

Monday, May 24, 2010

The Welcome Back Weekend

Man I missed Moldova. While riding my fourth overnight bus (this one from Bucharest to Chisinau) in two-weeks, I wasn't sure how I felt about coming back to Moldova. But after a good night with friends in the city and some sleep, I couldn't wait to get back to site. The whole routiera ride home was beautiful and green I forced myself to stay awake and watch it all go by.

And look what greeted me at home, an overgrown garden that barely had leaves when I left! Things changed so much I feel like I missed something! Apparently it rained and poured (which I'm glad I missed) the whole time and the plants took off. Check out these sour cherries outside my bedroom window. The ones at the top of the tree are already turning red. The minute they do, I'm busting out the ladder.

My host Mom and I sat in her bed that night catching up on the latest news. Our neighbor became a grandmother a month early, there were two weddings for her to report on, a nephew who needed some medical treatment, a niece who is eight-months pregnant and her husband won't be here for the birth, etc. So. Good. To. Be. Back.

I then learned that I wouldn't be staying home long, as we were headed out to my host-aunt's village for Hram (a celebration every locality has once a year, date is decided by who is the patron saint and the corresponding Orthodox calendar). I love villages, where things are green and quiet. More like home to me. I also love my extended host family. They welcome me to their tables, treat me equally as a guest and family member, and I always sleep comfortably in their homes. This is a photo of my buddy Viorica (who is about to become a big sister!) and her new bike. Me teaching her to ride turned into rather lengthy sessions of me pushing and her relaxing. But she had fun and only fell once. Most energetic little girl in the world.

One last thing I was really excited to find, upon my return, was a two-part series of blog posts by my friend and colleague in the Community Development program. He writes (Part 1 , Part 2) about the central focus of the COD program--its true mission as opposed to the "grant writing = community development" notion that seems to be accepted by many in and around the Peace Corps Volunteer community. I hope you take the time to consider what he writes, particularly if you are one of those invitees headed out way. Drum bun!

Sunday, May 23, 2010

To the edge of the region, a Greek vacation

Piecing together a post about my adventures on my almost-one-year-in-the-Peace Corps-trip is proving difficult. A retelling of events hardly seems worth it, it seems intimidatingly exhausting. Rather, I'd like to use this post to explore a theme of congruency. Greece stands as a border to this region, in many ways due to it's predominately Eastern Orthodox culture that shares immediate borders with the Roman Catholic culture of Italy. The straightforward similarities I discovered between the Greek and Moldovan cultures probably grew tiresome for my traveling companions (Mom and Dad), as every other sentence I spoke stated a "In Moldova" versus "In Greece" observation. Maybe this blog is a more appropriate venue for such pondering.

When I arrived in the center of Athens with hours to spare until my next bus to the Ionian Islands, I sought out an old comfort: coffee. After reading so much about Greek coffee, prepared with the grounds in the cup, I was a little surprised to find that actually, people tend to stick with instant coffee in Greece. Just like Moldova. Oh well, I still enjoyed a "fresh" cup before walking toward the edge of the city, and my next bus. On the way, I happened across the makeshift memorial in front of the previous week's bombing site. Three bank employees died here, and just like in Moldova, these red candles were lit and flowers (including noticeably yellow ones) honored the fallen.

Quite to my pleasure, I actually found myself riding the overnight bus and ferry to the island of Corfu with a Moldoveanca. For roughly ten hours we compared and contrasted Greek and Moldovan lives. As I am a transplant in Moldova, and she in Greece (she has worked there for two years), we swapped experiences and observations in Romanian all night long. Particularly, I was curious about Easter celebrations in the Greek region of Eastern Orthodoxy. She said in Greece there is an advantage, everyone holds a huge feast before going to Church all night...no wary worshipers longing for food and water. No shocker here, but I actually learned some new Romanian words from her too, not like I ever needed the word "island" in Moldova!















On Corfu I stayed in a large, but rather empty backpackers hostel on the beach. It opened in 1977, the first on Pelakas beach, and the price of a bed included home-cooked breakfasts and dinners by the woman of the house. The ingredients all come from their organic farm, where currently five Americans are volunteering for room and board with the WOOF program. On Confu, so many things reminded me of Moldova--house wine, green growth of spring, home made cheese every day (Moldova: Brinza as Greece: Feta), old women tending to their fields as they have done every year of their lives, special crucifixes on the side of the road where danger is considered particularly present, and big families. This is a photo of some grapes I passed on a hike one morning from the beach, through the forest to this farm-valley, to a mountain-side Venetian village, the rocky cliffs of the coast, and back down. One of the most refreshing experiences of my whole trip.
This photo is from that Venetian village, it illustrates the importance placed on potted plants and flowers that I found on the island. I had to laugh, because I recently had a conversation with a volunteer who needed to vent about how important the potted flowers in Moldova seem to be sometimes. I say Venetian village because this island was ruled by the city-state for a large period of its more recent history. You can also count the Corinthians, Sparta, Napoleon, Rome, Russia, and England in the list of former rulers. Now, the joke is said to be, the rulers are many, western European tourists.

I can't deny two of the reasons I wanted to go to Corfu were natural occurrences: the mountains and the coast. So riding the ferry back to the mainland, I naturally was eager to sit outside for the crossing...watching the sun set, taking in the salty scent, etc. Here is a short clip that shows all the people who were as enthusiastic about the matter as me.


I'm purposely not posting photos on this blog that people have likely seen in postcards and movies. This isn't the best picture of the Acropolis, by any means, but it was taken from a rock where the Apostle Paul is believed to have spoke. In Greece, the official number of Eastern Orthodox believers is believed to be 97 percent of the population. In Moldova, its 99 percent. I can't speak about Moldovan law, but Greek law still states that cremation is illegal for an Eastern Orthodox Christian. The law was recently amended to allow cremation for other faiths. Particularly, Muslim Greeks, who were sending their dead abroad for this important death ritual.

When it comes to the Santorini portion of the trip, I can't help but show you postcard worthy images. The whole island is a postcard, particularly the famous blue-domed churches, of which there are more than 250. Also, wine grapes are becoming a sort of cash-crop. While touring a small family-owned winery, the owner also pointed out the distiller used for "raki." My parents didn't know what that meant at first, but I had to laugh. I've heard of volunteer water distillers being used to make the same concoction in Moldova, known in the states as "moonshine."

As for the rest of the trip, all you need to know is that I swam in the sea, got a tan, and ate really good food.

Friday, May 7, 2010

Hram--A day of city celebration

Hram (a celebration every Moldovan loclity has depending on it's patron saint, our Hram is on Saint George Day) is no different than other Moldovan holidays in that food preparation starts days beforehand, "ne pregatim pentru oaspteti!" It just so happened that our preparations for this day coincided with a visit from my host Mom's best friend. She is a Georgian woman that used to live in my town, but now works in Moscow. To tell you just how much fun this night was, I have to describe the converation method. I would pose a question or comment in Romanian, Maria's friend would respond in Russian, and then Maria would translate for me in Romanian if she ever stopped laughing long enough.

My hram was quite eventful, topped off by the fact that I needed to pack for the vacation I'm leaving for in 6 hours. At visit to a neighbor's house to borrow something turned into a two hour stay, eating apples and homemade rasins from the cellar, learning how sheep wool is hand processed for weaving carpets, and looking at old photo albumns. Moldovan (pre-digital) photography looks so much older than it is. For instance, Leonid, my neighbor, served his Soveit military service in Germany in 1982. All his photos are black and white, very rustic in appearance. Eugenia and Leonid were married eleven months after my parents, and every photo is black and white (to be fair, there are also several photos of them in front of a Lenin statue that used to stand in my town). That curtain truly was made of iron, it can't be said enough.

Eugenia and Leonid know that I'm headed out on vacation and sent a special message with me for my parents--who I will see next week--so maybe I'll fill in that story after I fill them in.

Having stayed far longer than I planned with them, I then raced home to change my clothes and go to a masa (meal/party) at another neighbor's house. But wouldn't you know it, my host aunt made me eat before I went!

This family has two hilarious daughters (the younger of which giggles even more than me) and their father, Aurel, is one of the best Moldovan men I know. This is a picture of him after he managed to steal the acordian back from his younger daughter. We had the party in his drinking room, it's all decked out in pho-vineyard cave or something. Even the door behind him is really just a fancied up cement creation. He gets a lot of laughs telling people to head down to the cellar.

After a few glasses of wine and sour cherry crepes, we girls got out the eye-shadow case of the century and got the girls all ready to go to the city center for the real party.

After dark, it was only music and hora dancing for this PCV. I'm pretty sure that's why I'm here actually, to dance it out every chance I get!

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Dairy cycle of life

Three days ago, milk was poured it in this old jar. It's been sitting on the counter since then. Observe that the bottom and top third have begun to pull away from the edges of the jar, leaving a center of congealed fat surrounded by murky water. Tomorrow, it will be called sour cream. It will be put in food; mixed with sugar to put on crepes or smothering yet another potato or cabbage roll. And even if it does make it to the refrigerator after that, it still might return to the counter for one last stand. One more night on the counter, and apparently, this stuff is as good as yogurt. It can be eaten on a spoon with salt, it can be put in coffee or tea, or mixed with apricot preserves in a nice tea. Or so I'm told. There are a lot of things I enjoy about Moldova that I would never consider back home, but I fear too much that these dairy products would haunt me far past the date of consumption that I have yet to will the spoon to my mouth. Go ahead, say it...cultural integration wimp.

Sunday, May 2, 2010

Sunday morning "Handball"

For months I have known that Doina is a competitive "handballist." This title hasn't been translated to fit in an English box for my America readers, that is actually the word used by Moldovans. But here's the thing...well, two things. Handball, in Moldova, is not played in a white cube with an exceptionally loose two-inch rubber ball. Also, it is called "handball" despite that fact that most players and spectators don't associate the word "hand" and "ball" with anything. English has been adopted without a well-known translation (I would suggest "minga mînile," but that is beside the point).

Here's how it works: Like soccer, there is a goal on each end of the terrain. Like basketball, the ball can be dribbled, traveling and double-dribbles both exist. Like Ultimate Frisbee, if you are carrying the ball, then you are limited in the number of steps you can take. Like soccer, yellow and red cards are given to players that fail to exemplify good sportsmanship. Like basketball, free throws exist. Like water polo, you have to throw the ball in the net to score. Like every collegiate and professional sport, the mens' games draw more spectators, noise, and blood than the womens' matches.

Of course, Doina's team took first place. They were promptly awarded their diploma and T-shirt, following the championship game. Doina, the team captain and the best 15 year-old friend this girl could have, scored the first and last points of the day for her team! Woot Woot!

Volunteerism goes district wide

Having completed our tour of the district to speak about youth volunteerism, Saturday was the first day of training for our new recruits. Until this point, we had only briefly visited them in their villages to talk about all the benefits volunteerism can bring to a community, now we are actually giving them the skills they need to create and achieve their goals. Of course, no event like this gets started without a name game. This was by far the hardest one I had ever played, you have to listen to your teammates (who are yelling in a number of languages) and try to guess who is sitting behind you...and remember his/her name.


I am thrilled about these trainings because:
[+] We have incredibly active participants/volunteers
[+] Like the summer leadership course that was started by Nadya and Sharon, this is a program where youth are teaching youth...SusTAinABIlitY!
[+] The youth in town already have an arsenal of skills including leadership, teamwork, and public speaking (not that they aren't constantly evolving), but the youth from these villages have many more areas of needs than the youth in my town. Building relationships with them means that I could opening the doors to a lot more work in my district as a whole.
[+] It is my partner's first chance to stand on the instruction side of the line. She is actually so active, some of the other youth trainers asked her to not talk so much!