American groom, Moldovan bride

Their story: Natalia goes to the United States on a “work and travel” visa and meets Casey at a barbeque. His mother introduced them. It’s love. Casey and Natalia get married in a small ceremony in the States, but save the real celebration for Moldova. Weddings really are great here.

As shown in the photos throughout this post, Natalia and Casey had their wedding in a very elegant, very modern Moldovan, wedding hall. This is the newest wedding hall in my town, and understandably the most popular. The photos also have great examples of Moldovan fashion, so look out for that too!


Having played the part of assistant to the maid-of-honor last summer, I was well prepared to go to this wedding and understand what was actually going on around me. 


For instance, as we walked up the massive pho-marble staircase to the wedding hall, under a four-tier chandelier, I heard an unmistakable crescendo . 
"Ha! Guys," I said to the three other Peace Corps Volunteers in attendance, "that music is for us. We are entering to the trumpets." Erika wanted to turn around and go home immediately.


A few times I took a moment to chat up the groom's mother. Once, while dancing the hora, I asked her what she thought of the hora. "What's a hora, dear?" She asked. Helping other Americans understand Moldova's intricacies, especially when  you know they already have an appreciation or investment in the culture, is a thrill. Maybe the youth council doesn't always consider me an expert on leadership trainings. But Americans visiting Moldova pretty much consider those of us who live here, work here, and speak one of the local languages to be just that.

This wedding also conveys one of the things I am most proud of about my service: my community integration. I knew the chances were pretty high that I would know a few other people at the wedding. Of course Maria Crigan was there, Ion  Crigan too. I took a turn around the dance floor with the Mayor. Katia (who I worked with before she left last January to join her husband in Italia) and I hugged immediately upon seeing one another. I am so happy we got the chance to see each other again. An eleventh grade girl and I sang all the words to one of the Moldovan songs that just happens to be on my i-pod. My partner from the district council, a middle aged man, apparently likes to boogey. And then there was the woman from the post office. Because I have experienced this part many times before, it's a sure bet that next time I go to the post office she will say, "You are the girl from Natalia's wedding."

We stayed until the "undressing of the bride," the custom marking the bride's transformation into a homemaker. Her veil is replaced with a head scarf and she sits on the groom's lap while the older women shower them in all the fixings for a home (blankets, towels, cookware, etc). But given that Natalia and Casey already have a home in Alaska, most people just took the chance to put some money in Natalia's head scarf. Oh, and right before this I caught the bouquet! 

Congratulations, Natalia and Casey!

Sitcom material

On our third day in Moldova, a colleague famously proclaimed that if things got awkward on his first night with the host family, then he'd just pretend it was a sitcom.

Lately, I feel like the writers need to visit my home and check out all the material I have for them. Here's a few examples of Romanian (as spoken in a home bursting at the seams with women) being translated back to English and just sounding plain ridiculous, or in turn, like one of those wholesome shows that gets cancelled after one endearing pilot season.

"Be healthy! Be a bride!"-Bunica (Grandma) Liuba's words every...single...morning.

"Laugh to live."-Bunica Liuba at the dinner table.

Me: "Maria, I had something I was going to tell you, but I forgot what."
Maria: "Okay, so go back to the last place you remember thinking about it and wait for it to come back."

...Maria calling from the kitchen to my room: "Melissa! Did you find that thing you needed to remember?"

Maria: "Are you sure you don't want me to make you fried toast before you leave on the bus, at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning?"
Me: "Yes, I'm sure. It's too early for me to eat."
Maria: "Hmmm...so you can't eat in the morning, huh. I can. No problem!"

Bunica Liuba, while interrupting her prayer to throw her hands in the air: "Look, Melissa is barefoot, again! I give up. She just must be one hot girl."

Never ceasing celebration

The 

Popa

Family 

celebrates 

for 

six

straight

months,

from 

both

New

Years, 

and

both

Christmases, 

through 

every 

single 

birthday.

Happy birthday, Aurel! Enjoy your new watch!

Meeting the in-laws

More than any other Moldovan/Eastern Orthodox tradition, I am particularly well acquainted with the praznic. I wrote about two of them previously (here and here), so I won't spend much time explaining this tradition.

A few things made this praznic different from others I have attended. Most obviously was the new people with whom I was meeting. I finally met Maria's in-laws. This praznic was held to mark the seven years since her mother in-law's passing. Since Maria's husband has also passed, it was host by her two remaining children.

The women in the room immediately greeted me with kind words and those imperative European cheek kisses. "Finally we meet you," they said. "Yes, Melissa. Like the tea plant, yes?"

After my host brother quizzed my Romanian skills in front of the whole table, he kindly informed me that his Uncle Galaction (pictured below in the suit, on the left side of the table) is the Secretary General for the Institute of Philology, at the State Academy of Sciences. He has a doctorate in Romanian! Doamne fereste! 

As with any family gathering, the good-ol'-days stories, lubricated by house wine and brandy, eventually dominated the conversation. It just so happened that I arrived that morning in the capital city from this family's native county. I spent two days there facilitating a youth experience exchange. Hence, village tales were interrupted to explain to me where particular stories took place in relation to where I had just been.

On the whole, the stories told about Maria's Mother in-law were gracious and endearing. Her memory was revered by another of her daughter in-laws, as a hard-working, constantly in-motion, and attentive woman. Though, the stories of her two sons drinking milk straight from the source without their Mother's permission were all the more entertaining.

Though, as every village does, theirs also has tragic memories. According to Galaction, their village was particularly affected by Stalin's deportations in the late 1930s. Galaction said many people from their village were taken away in trains, fed only salt-cured fish and denied any water. Those who died along the way were never recovered, those who made it to Siberia only arrived to find hard daily work in the labor camps. Modern estimates put the total number of deportation victims around 90,000. For more on this history, click here. As Galaction spoke I was captivated, these are the moments when I wonder why the world doesn't seem to learn from it's past. Trail of Tears. Balkan wars. Holocaust. Rwandan genocide. Sudan. And all those others I don't even know occurred.

So as not to end the post on such a low note, and to get back to the story of the party. I'll leave you with this photo of my host brother and his fiancée. Let the world know the date is set! October 14, 2011 these two will finally tie the knot, in Chisinau, on the same day as the city's hram. Felicia said she hasn't started looking for a dress yet, but will do so just as soon as the weather smartens up, in spring.

Meetings with new people seems to be my elixir of choice these days. I can't seem to leave one of these parties without a rejuvenated sense of my contentment in this place. 

Youth Exchange, take two.

Recall my trip to Zachariah's village last December. The purpose of my trip was to facilitate a youth experience exchange between Zachariah's youth group and another youth group in a neighboring village, led by PCV Shannon. Both of these volunteers are facilitating youth initiatives according to the Public Achievement curriculum. 

The previous attempt to have the event was cancelled due to a blizzard, literally. But this time we pulled it off and had a lot of fun doing it. Big thanks to Zach and Shannon for the invitation!

The Purpose

The goals of a youth experience exchange (Schimb de experienta) are rather simple; to give the youth a chance to share their ideas and intentions, learn from one another's experience, and foster new acquaintances. 

On the bus ride from the first village to the village were the event took place, we couldn't help but conclude that this afternoon outing was one of the few "field trips" these kids have been awarded. The distance from one village to the other is just 15 minutes by bus, but as a student group, the practice of visiting another group is not yet venerated like the countless youth exchanges an American student leader might attend during his/her high school career.

Standard Beginning

Shannon's facility was a great place to have our event, and after her director and the mayor of the village said a few introductory words, the director introduced the first activity: Human Bingo.

Up until that moment, as my colleague noted, the scene was so terrifyingly typical of high school students it made us cringe. The two groups took seats on opposing sides of the room, looking at the other group but trying as they might to pretend they have not a care in the world. Lipgloss shimmered off the shy smiles of almost every girl in the room, one boy wore a full suit, and though many of the participants introduced themselves as 18 year-olds, I hardly believed they could be 15.

Project Ambitions

Each of the youth groups is working on a community project. At this point, each group has identified a problem in their community and a potential solution. We wanted to give the youth an opportunity to discuss their projects and improve their solution proposals at the youth exchange.

Representatives from each of the groups gave a short presentation about the problems in their respective communities and their potential solutions. Shannon's group yielded the floor for Zach's group (the guests) to present first. Two of the youth described the problem their village: no place for the youth to congregate in their free time (very common opinion in Moldova). Their solution to this problem is to build a youth park, near the school. The youth showed off their sketch of the proposed park, as well as the results of a survey they did in their school, which speaks to the support they have from their peers in undertaking this initiative. 

Shannon's group then spoke about the limited access to food in their school cafeteria, the problem they have chosen to attack. Their proposed solution, to provide a tea service service during class breaks, is having trouble attracting the necessary support.

Teamwork

Since both of the groups are rather new, it seemed only appropriate that our interactive break from project analysis came in the form of a team-building activity. The human knot is a perfect way to do this, with groups who have never done it before, because they will participate in the debrief with sincerity. In order to continue the acquaintance building, we mixed the two groups together for this activity.

One team manage to complete the task of untangling themselves. When I asked the group how they succeeded, the common response was perfectly textbook, "We had to listen to everyone's ideas." (Thanks for playing, tell them what they win Bob!)

I asked the other group, which didn't manage to finish the task, if there was a clear leader in their group. "Yes!" They shouted, "Zach!" Hmmmm....

  

Project Analysis

Keeping the two groups mixed, but divided equally. We spent the next 20 minutes analyzing the project proposals. We decided to use an activity called "Driving Forces," that I found in a Peace Corps manual. It requires the participants to consider the "positive forces" propelling their project forward, and the "negative forces" pushing back the progress. Both groups needed to hear the truth, that they need support of other partners (school directors, other administrators, parents, etc) in order to succeed.

At the end of the day, two participants said that they learned something new about their project through this activity. Thus, my job was done and I went home a satisfied facilitator.

Diplomas, Pizza, and New Friends
At the end of the event, Shannon's director awarded each of the participants a diploma (very important in Moldovan culture). Though I somehow don't have a picture to prove to you...Shannon created beautiful diplomas complete with a photo of yours truly and the title "Moldovan Youth Facilitator." Shannon is amazing like that.

The Mayor of the town took a moment to speak again, awarding the Peace Corps Volunteers who participated our own diplomas too (pictures in the slideshow, above).

Then it was on to the pizza party, where we observed as the youth took it upon themselves to make sure there were youth from each village sitting at each of the tables. Way to go kids! Job well done!

After seeing how impressed youth from Shannon's group were with the youth from Zach's group, and vise-versa, I am once again convinced that experience exchanges are the way to go in youth development here. It hardly matters if I, an American, go to a group of youth and tell them they can be the change they want to see. If they hear it and see it being done by their neighbors, the youth are much more likely to believe that they can do it too.

To each cook, his own kitchen

In this picture, you can see my entire kitchen. Our townhouse is small, having exactly four rooms of almost equal size.

But in the village, the soul of Moldova, it is much more common for kitchens to be separated from the rest of the houses.

Below are some photos I snapped of a colleague's kitchen, while he prepared some scrumptious curried chickpeas for our dinner. We also made a couple trips to the cellar, where another colleagued risked the future use of his fingers by pulling pickles out of their freezing liquid with his bare hands. Ever heard of a fork, Mr. Laurie?

This kitchen is pretty typical of a village home. Since it's not actually in the house, to me it feels a little like cooking in the garage. Where my Dad might hang coiled extension cords and a collection of wrenches on a wall, this kitchen is bedecked with pots and pans. 

It's also unheated. In the summer, that is a great method of keeping the home cool. In winter, it means we exchanged house slippers for regular shoes and I donned one of the thick winter vests for the duration of our cooking. 

"The vest is better for cooking," explained my host when he brought me this vest instead of my coat, "no sleeves to get in the way."



Just like we should have anticipated, this meal (with two Moldovans and three Americans) quickly digressed into a tri-lingual spectacle that only we, Peace Corps Volunteers and our Moldovan friends, think is entertaining. Everyone arrived at the house that day from different locations, somewhat road fatigued and attempting to fight off the common cold. So, fits of laughter would quickly turn into fits of coughing, thereby inducing more laughter given that the coughing because of the laughter was just that hilarious.

"And that is why we are Volunteers," declared my colleague. "That is world peace and friendship, right there."