Posh Corps: The [not so] rough life

 I recently spent a weekend at my host brother's vila (by which, I refer to a vacation home, outside the capital city, on a lake). It is experiences like this that bring to mind the "Posh Corps" label many Peace Corps Volunteers all over the world self-apply when their service fails to resemble the savannas and stricken poverty that appears so restlessly in Peace Corps promotional material.

The vila sits on about an acre of land, complete with gardens, a hammock tied between two cherry trees, the two-story house, a large covered patio, and a cellar full of homemade spirits. I wish I could tell you that the house does not have indoor plumbing, good windows, or electricity. But it really does have it all...and then some.

After three servings of sour-cherry liquor for breakfast, my feet took me just far enough to reach one of the big beds on the second floor. The walk in the woods and flower picking would have to wait until the afternoon. My host family says the vila is a place to relax, but like an amateur, I had not anticipated the relaxation to be substance induced. Silly me.

Perhaps I should have put this photo at the top of the post. Perhaps it could have hooked the reader. Perhaps it explains more about my host country's obsession with beauty and order than I or any other blogging volunteer could accurately convey.

Three men, one ladder without legs, and a  power tool.



All you need to know is, what happened to this tree to give it the look of pom-poms on a stick, was done to it on purpose. 

The annual family reunion: Memorial Easter

The Preparation
My neighbor, Zina, came to use our electric meat grinder the day before Memorial Easter. While I nibbled on a cabbage salad and she worked on her three-meat meatballs, she recalled her husband’s predictable words in the days leading up to a major holiday.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He would tell Zina. “You are so busy making food for two days from now that you don’t have time to give me something to eat today!”

And such was the scene in our kitchen the day before Memorial Easter. Maria was fixing to stuff the lamb. A neighbor, also Maria, was wrapping cabbage rolls (sarmale). Zina went on grinding away at her pork, beef, and chicken mixture. I stuffed miniature crepes with sweet cheese and exactly two raisins each. Eventually, my host mom gave me the order to make a cabbage salad for us to eat while we worked.
Celebration in the city

The morning of Pastele Blajinilor (Memorial Easter) we raced to the cemetery in our town. The priest was to arrive around 09:00 and Maria was anxious to get her husband's grave blessed as soon as possible so that we could make it to her village celebration as well. We succeeded in getting our grave blessed first because of my host brother's close friendship with the priest's son (uh, Catholicism take note?).

In the photo above, people are lined up around a long table with their food and wine, ready for it to be blessed and offered to others on behalf of the souls of the departed. Eastern Orthodoxy dictates that the fate of the souls of the dead are the responsibility of the family. Rituals are carried out on behalf of the dead to assure their eternity in heaven. 

Celebration in the Village

Throughout this post, readers might notice the tables and benches in the cemetery. Typically, each family has a table near the cluster of gravesites they maintain. Here's a shot of my immediate family and host cousins in the village cemetery.

We stayed in the cemetery for a few hours visiting with cousins and taking part in the rituals. Each grave is decorated with bowls of bread, candy, and red-colored eggs before the priest blesses the grave. Then the family gives away these bowls, often accompanied with a shot of wine, "on behalf of the soul of [insert name]." Thus, many Peace Corps Volunteers in Moldova will tell you this holiday is something akin to trick-or-treating. I always go home with a small collection of dishes and stash of chocolate treats. 

Just like last year, we spent the afternoon at Granny Liuba's house. We had a huge meal, and spent the afternoon relaxing, playing games, and watching my three-year-old host-nephew plant onions in the garden (see above slideshow captions for commentary). 

In this picture, Vitalie (my oldest host brother) and I are playing with our food. It's a simple game, smash your boiled egg on someone else's and see whose egg implodes. Yet another thing America kids miss out on because they prefer those plastic colored eggs instead of the regular ones. 

Sour Cherry Blossoms

Adopted by another community

I just got back from a week down south, helping implement a World Map Project. A fellow volunteer started this project just before she needed to leave the country for a family emergency. So while I went down to  help her partner (Liliana) finish the project, her whole community essentially adopted me as their own for the week. More times than I can count, people called me by the former volunteer's name rather than my own--a sure sign that she is missed!

I arrived the Monday following Easter, better known as "a doua zi de pashte" or "the second day of Easter." No one goes to work on the Monday following Easter, it too is considered a holiday. Thus, upon my arrival in the village at 17:00, Liliana and I immediately went to the Baptist Church where her husband (Roma) is the minister.

Ninety-seven percent of Moldovans are Eastern Orthodox. Protestant churches are both rare and grossly misunderstood. Most Moldovans say that the Baptists are not Christians. I've challenged this point a few times, but usually for the sake of not making enemies in my community, I look for an exit from the conversation before my opponent gets too dedicated to the argument.

This was my first time being invited to a Baptist church in Moldova, though I have always wanted to go and see how it compares to the Orthodox services. At the Orthodox services, practically everything the priest says is sung. Words are modified to rhyme and reflect a more perfect meter. Though I tend to understand the meaning of things, never have I understood word for word what was being said as I did at my visit to the Baptist church. What a thrill it was to understand, word for word, the Easter stories in a language as beautiful as Romanian!

And so went my week. Tuesday we went to the forest for a picnic with many of the Baptist ministers from the region, and their families. I understood everything that was said, and unlike the Orthodox Moldovans, who attend to rituals more than anything else, my hosts actually picked up their Bibles and read passages for themselves. I understood the words of the prayers before we took every meal. I understood when the pastors discussed their youth programming, fundraising strategies, and outreach efforts. It was everything you think a church picnic would be, just replace your English with my host country's Romanian.

When I wasn't at the school working on the project, I spent most of my time with Liliana and Roma's family. We visited Roma's village where I met the mayor, Roma's family, and visited the local pasta factory. We watched YouTube videos, ate really quick meals because we were perpetually running late, and drank evening tea. I fell absolutely in love with their two-year old, Diana. Last time I saw her (November 2010) she was so shy she would barely look at me. This week, the case was exactly the opposite, as I started responding to calls for "Tanti Melissa."

Given that Liliana and Roma have a full house, I actually spent my night's at another family's house. A very large house for a very large family. I participated in their second day of Easter feast. Since many people weren't eating meat in the weeks leading up to Easter, I think people are going a little protein crazy these days. On Monday alone I was served the following meats: roasted duck stuffed with fruit chutney, stuffed goose, egg-batter fried chicken, pork stuffed cabbage rolls, and roasted lamb.

My host adamantly insisted that I drink (and like!) his house wine. With only a single ingredient, grapes, he said it's the best juice around and sent me home with a two-liter bottle of his two-year-old white wine on the condition that I tell you all that wine in Moldova is delicious!

Finally, on my last night in the village, I visited my friend's former host family. Luda, the host mother, is particularly upset that her volunteer had to leave so suddenly and misses her very much. We spent the night eating all of that volunteer's favorite foods and recalling stories of her time and work in the village. They hope to have the chance to host another volunteer soon. They wanted to have their picture taken with this teddy bear the volunteer left behind, which the grandson now adores and dresses in his own clothes. 

The day I left the village was, again, a family affair. Five adults and two kids total, we squeezed into a sedan that we push started more than once. Took it as far as the district center, where we swapped vehicles with Roma's brother. Taking his van in exchange for the car, we proceeded on to the capital city where Liliana and Roma had errands to run. 

A trip to the city is an adventure for the kids, and we didn't part ways until after we celebrated (much to the children's benefit and delight!) the completion of our project over pizza, soda, french fries, and ice cream. 

Easters in Moldova: Two beautiful days

For the play-by-play of Orthodox Easter, click over to my post from last last year. I hope that post and the pictures below convey the high regard I hold for Orthodox Easter in Moldova--two of my favorite days in my whole service. The Easter customs and traditions in this faith community are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.


Think of a family-friendly Christmas movie in which, perfectly, the entire town carries candles to the central square and carols around a large Christmas tree. Fast-forward from that scene to Easter, and there you have it. Easter in my community means that the church courtyard is filled with warm smiles, anticipation, and candle-light.

It means that adults and children alike will squeal when the holy water landing on their faces chills their bones. It means the number of meals in a day will double. It means that sun will shine (at least that has been my luck) and we will go to the cemetery to be with those we loved and lost. It means we will greet an unusually high number of strangers we pass on the way. This is Easter in Moldova.

*Big thanks to my host brother, Sergiu, who spent his last two Easters teaching me everything I've shared in these posts. Merci mult, Serji!

Apricot blossoms

Why fish sales are sky high this week

According to Orthodox tradition, today is "Buna-Vestire," Catholic readers might recognize this day as the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It is the celebration of the day in which the Angel Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she would give birth to the son of God.

The Buna-Vestire falls right in the middle of the Easter fasting. Those who are holding the fast are eating strictly vegan diets (which at the end of winter, with no fresh produce, is a really big commitment. I can't say I know many young people who do hold fast). Ironically though, Buna-Vestire is considered to be one of the 12 major feasts of the Orthodox Calendar.

Fast holders and pretenders alike will celebrate today by a one-day exception to the fast, eating as much fish as they like. My host Mom bought her fish supply a couple days ago. She hasn't kept fast (she made it like 27 hours until she broke down to cheese and meat again). My host aunt kept the fast for about a week or so, a common gesture in these parts. My host grandma is still a devout observer, and my neighbors and friends at the Popa house will probably eat fish today because they like it so much, but they plan to observe the fast next week.

This week, fish stalls at the market have been the envy of all other providers. Happy feasting, everyone!

Engagement Party

Meet Justin and Rachel. Their story is much like the hundreds of others that you've heard about; the classic Peace Corps romance. They are one of two couples in my group about to tie the knot. As Justin would tell you, he planned to propose while riding on a camel during their winter vacation in Egypt. But he just couldn't wait and ended up popping the question as they did their laundry, on an average weekend at his site, and didn't even have the ring with him! 

I am so glad these couples decided to organize their own engagement party and let us celebrate with them. It was a rather classy night on the town, and one of the first gatherings (of which I fear there will be many) marking the closing of our time in Moldova. Over cold pivo, conversations inevitably turned to who's attending which graduate program next year, who's taking a year to travel, and who's still trying to figure it all out. 

We spent the evening toasting the happy couples in the only way we know how--Moldovan well-wishes include homes full of children, health, and happiness--and even dancing a huge hora to the live Irish music. 

Congratulations to Justin, Rachel, Erin, and Petru! Toate cele bune!

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!

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.

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!

Some great Moldovan youth

I have to include the video below, despite the fact that most people like, my family, Craig's mom, and incoming volunteers can't understand Romanian. But I know of a few who will appreciate seeing the faces of these girls and hearing their message. Basically, these girls are explaining why we do this activity called "Maxims campaign." The girls explain, between giggles, that the youth council does this activity (hanging positive sayings around town) in an effort to change the way people think about the well-being of our community. Specifically, so that people might stop being indifferent about what goes on here. This week, our maxim roughly translates to 'your talent means nothing without hard work.'

In this and other activities, I created some pretty good memories with Moldovan youth this week. First of all, we finished our tour of villages in our "Be the Volunteer, Be the Change" campaign. We could not have come this far without the surprise support of our district council, which provided private transport to all seven villages over the last two months. Next weekend we move to phase two, actually training youth from surrounding villages. We will cover themes such as leadership, volunteerism, and organizing/maintaining local youth councils.

This photo is included to prove how un-integrated I really am. Moldovans don't smile in most photographs. Doina was trying to teach me this (again), but as you can see, I failed.

This weekend I also attended the regional debate competition for Moldovan high schools. Gah! how much it made me yearn for the churn of my stomach, the pumping adrenaline, and reward of mental exhaustion from my own debate days. Both in English and Romanian (though ironically not Russian, despite that the competition was held in the city of Balti, the Russian capital of Moldova), these youngsters took on the question of Moldovan integration into the European Union. The students on these teams are leaps ahead of their classmates thanks to their participation. For many, it is the only setting in which they have learned to build arguments, follow logic, and prepare research. It's really too bad this can't just be built into the curriculum and be done in the classroom with every student.

I saw two debates (Karl Popper format), with wins split evenly between the affirmative and negative teams. Here are some of the more memorable points made by the students. Not all of these should be adopted as truths, but do provide a good look at what the youth were able to come up with and defend.

Pro-integration:

-Moldova has agricultural goods the rest of Europe can use

-Moldova is already surrounded by Europe, why can't it be included

-Moldova is a tolerable country, proven by the fact that it allows Russian children to attend Russian schools

-Moldova has a quality education system on par with that of Germany and Greece

Against integration:

-Moldova has unresolved political issues right now, such as the election of a president and the conflict with Transnistria.

-Moldova doesn't have a market economy, only one funded by foreign investors

-Moldova doesn't have a comparable education system with the rest of Europe. Moldovan diplomas are not honored abroad, except in Germany and Greece.

-Moldova exports wine, not much else.

Sergiu's Church Wedding

When I told a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer that I was going to a church wedding this week, he responded "That's the bad part. Why are you going to that? That's the bad part." What his reaction shows is the reality that this is not the wedding celebration most guests are invited to attend. On the first day of a Moldovan wedding, the bride and groom are married in the eyes of the Church. On the second day, in the eyes of the state (this is probably a rotten analogy in a post-Soviet society), and then that night there is a big party which is called "the wedding" or "nunta."

To mark the beginning of the wedding, the parade of three decorated cars serenaded the town with their horns as they made their way from our neighborhood to the church. From this point forward, the degree of casualty was a little suprising. The bride, groom, "nash" (a couple designated to counsel and support the newly weds) and less than five others stood in the church courtyard waiting for a baby's baptism to finish, then we all went inside just as the altar boy, in his street clothes, rearranged the materials on the pulpit for the ceremony. The groom's sister paid the woman selling the church candles and idols 500 Moldovan lei for the ceremony. Random townspeople entered the church throughout the process to prepare another ceremony that is carried out every Friday, called Pomana, to remember the dead.

A fresh carpet was laid before the couple to be wed and the nash, just as the priest buttoned his costume and walked in the room. The four stepped onto the carpet, lit their candles, and the ceremony began. My favorite quote from the ceremony was captured on video, but since it is in Romanian, I'll try to relay the humor here:

Priest to the couple: "And you promise that you have never been married?"

Couple: "Yes"

Priest to the Nash: "And you promise that you are married?"

Nash: "Yes."

Priest to Nash and couple: "And you promise that you all have been baptized?"

Nash and Couple: "Yes."

Priest to everyone in the room: "And you all heard this declaration?"

Everyone: "Yes"

Priest: "Well that's nice, but it really only matters that God heard it, and he already knew."

In this photo, the couple is crowned. According to my host mother, this is the official act that marks them as man and wife. There was a small peck at the very end of the event, but I blinked and missed the first half, also the absence of applause after that moment solidified it's non-significance.

In the video below, the priest tells the group to cross themselves, and then "let us pray." The singing altar boy is not only unseen in the video clip, but unseen to the guest as well. There is a box near the front of the room that he stands in so as to allow his voice to carry over the curved ceiling like the ominous voice of the one they have come to worship.

Finally, like all other things at church that occur in sets of three, the newly weds and the nash walked around the altar three times, stopping where they started each time to cross themselves. The second time around, the skirt of the bride was caught on something, producing a longer than short, awkward silence. In the photo, note that that bride and groom literally have their hands tied together. Also, they are trying to balance the crowns on their heads, and there is a person behind each of them trying to keep the crowns from crashing to the floor as well. The nash couple still carry lit candles. When the dress was snagged, everyone in the party literally stopped, helpless, and waited for the bride's sister to divert disaster.

Ten months in Moldova, I think this is love

This week, I had many conversations with our country director (see photo), my program managers, peers, and family about how excited I am to be in Moldova right now. The thing is, I thought I loved my service last fall, but it turns out that is only because I didn't know to what extent I would enjoy being in Moldova at this point. If the rate of enjoyment continues to rise at this exponential rate, by fall I'll surely be the most happily-annoying person you have ever met.

The thing is, Peace Corps has three goals (listed on the right side of the page). So even if I haven't taught a class on program planning this week, or given a computer lesson, or whatever, it is still acceptable that I visited the homes of two neighbors, played hours of frisbee with twelve year-old boys, and cooked several new dishes for my host family. Of late, I haven't even seen my Romanian tutor much, but spending time with Moldovans outside my normal circuit is a great way to pick up new vocabulary. I feel truly blessed to me in here in such a role, a country that a year ago I couldn't locate on the map, with a people that I have come to understand, appreciate, and even love. I hope this blog conveys that message clearly.

Spring and summer also mean the return of day trips to "the forest" for relaxing and socializing. Today, some of the youth and I took the first trip of the season. One where a much-bigger-than-necessary fire was built to bake potatoes, frisbees were thrown with as much enthusiasm as the sunflower seed ammunition in the heat of battle, and I proceeded to lose many a hand at Moldovan/Russian card games. Fantastic day.

I'll leave the reader now with a recording of today's wildlife sightings. Make no mistake, these are no bird calls...only the most gargantuan amphibians one has ever seen (scratch that, heard).

Memorial Easter, a village, and my family

If you want to count how many people actually live in my Moldovan town, then you should bring one of those counting clickers that bus drivers use to the cemetery on Memorial Easter (Paște Blajinilor). I think it is also safe to say that the town taxi service makes a killing on this day since many people chose the two-dollar cab ride over carrying all of their goods to the cemetery. The picture here shows one of the two buses that operated as a shuttle. By goods, I mostly refer to wine, bread, colored eggs, candles, chocolates, candies, and flowers.

Most families also prepare several pomana, like this one. Also, many are offered on a piece of round bread called colac. These are intended to be gifts on behalf of the dead person's soul (a very important Romanian word: suflet). For instance, the Vice Mayor of our town invited me over to the grave of her father, which she had covered with food, flowers, and candles. She told me a little more about her family, then took a pomana from the grave and offered it to me with a glass of wine, saying "from the soul of my father." When taking wine at Easter, we say "Christ is risen," as well as "May God forgive him." After managing the shot of wine (Moldovans do this nice and smooth, but it takes me at least three swallows), I kissed the bread and blew out the candle. People go out and buy extra dishes and mugs to offer the pomana on/in, so I came away from the cemetery a few bowls and one coffee cup richer.

Memorial Easter is the busiest day for the year for our two priests. This picture shows the priests blessing a mountain of food and wine. Some of the food will be left for the altar-boy-equivalents to haul off to the poor and elderly, the rest people will take to their own tables (that they build next to the graves) to eat and share with family. The table is cleared and filled again as if it was never empty in between the blessings. My ignorance might come into play a little here, but I think the job of an Orthodox priest is a little harder than that of a Roman Catholic priest because everything they say is sung. I still have "Hristos a înviat din morți" or "Christ rose from the dead" stuck in my head, we heard it all week...Hristooos a înviat din Moorți! Hristooos a înviat din Moorți! ...But then again, Orthodox priests cannot be ordained until they are married, and are expected to bear children....The Vatican might have missed the mark on that one!

After the our relatively small celebration in the cemetery, I went with my host brothers (in the swanky BMW nonetheless!) out to my host grandmother's house for a much bigger party. I will never forget my host grandmother's reaction when she saw me walking up the path (she lived with us this winter for three months, and just this last week celebrated her 80th birthday), I have never had such a big hug from two such little arms! Here too, around the big table, every time you are handed a glass of wine, it is honor of someone's soul. Thank goodness offering half the glass to the soil is permitted in this sense. This is a view from the cemetery in the village (I have been in a cemetery six times since the new year!) where most of my host family's dead are buried. See those sheep in the distance? Spring in Moldova is like a movie set--"the hills are alive....!"

This is the most people from my host family I have yet to get on one picture. If I were to consider myself a daughter in the family, the woman standing directly in front of me would be my grandmother, the two men are my right are my brothers (they already call themselves that..awww), and the woman over my left shoulder is my aunt, the hardest working woman I know. The rest would be cousins, including the older man directly behind me who is a big-wig at the department of Chemistry in Chisinau. He recently earned a type of lifetime achievement award, which was broadcast on the national television station.

I wanted to make sure you got a good look at that 80 years-young lady, Luba. Also shown is Rodica (who will have her second baby in June) and her brother Gicu and his wife, their son Marin. Rodica and Gicu are the children of my host Mom's sister, who works in Italy.

Today we all go back to normal work schedules, for which I am glad, but I have to say that this past week has been one of the most cherished yet. Back in the fall, I thought I wanted to move out of my host family's house, find an apartment in the center of town, and live on my own. I AM SO HAPPY THAT I CHOSE TO STAY WITH MY HOST FAMILY. Who cares if I eat potatoes everyday of the winter? Who cares if I sometimes lack the personal space we uptight Americans are accustomed too? This host family experience is challenging, sometimes fragile, but what family isn't?

At this point, I can recite the name's of second cousins, show you the graves of many, and re-tell the story of how my host aunt used to slide through the fence and skip school, as if it were my own to tell. Sometimes people ask me if I miss my family, and of course, how could I not? Especially in times of celebration or tribulations, it is incredibly difficult to miss those moments. So I count my blessings that I was placed with such an accepting host family that is eager to accept my presence. Of course, being the third PCV helps, they already recognize there are just strange things Americans do and say, so I am in debt to Greg and Sharon both.

My host younger host brother, Sergiu, who is studying to be a lawyer in Chisinau, has been around a lot this week and we have developed quite a partnership. When he and his mom hassle me about not eating something, I now feel comfortable dishing it right back. We joke a lot in this family, and I know that is not the case for every PCV, so I know I am lucky. Anyway, Sergiu has been to the United States before, but he wants to go back to take his fiancée to Disney World and Seattle, driving from one side to the other. I hope he makes it some day. I say we snag some halibut and brew at Lowell's in Pike Place Market, who's in?

In a passing week

"Melissa, you have to try my wine. It's like grape juice--all natural grape juice--that just happens to be a bit tart." -Neighbor who prepared a random masa outside our house one night.

"You don't want a lamb, it grows up to be a sheep!"-The man who speaks perfect English after a couple glasses of tart grape juice.

"Open your eyes!"-A running joke between my host mom and I (hey, it's sarcasm and I'll take it where I can).

"One-hundred-fifty lei!"-The value of a frisbee being tossed in a lively game of five-hundred with the neighbor boys.

Melissa+Vlad+Oleg+Sasha+Misha+Slav+Alec+Daniel+Octavian=The hottest frisbee team around.

A Moldovan: "How do you say his name?"

Me: "Billy"

A Moldovan: "Like Billy Clinton?"

At the market, the woman at the fruit stand: "Stand aside people, Melissa wants something...what would you like, Melissa."

Me: "Five bananas, please."

The fruit seller: "That's it?"

GLOW Day Seminar #1

This is Melissa, a Volunteer in a village near my town who teaches health to middle-schoolers. She invited me out to co-facilitate our first GLOW Day seminar in 2010! GLOW is a worldwide Peace Corps Initiative that stands for Girls Leading Our World. Here in the 'Dova, we've decided to not only offer the traditional one-week summer camp, but also a serious of day seminars to shed a glimpse of light on the curriculum in smaller settings.

As you can see, Melissa's village is swanky. This lake is much larger than most in Moldova, combined with a late breeze, it almost reminds one of a shoreline. Almost. It was so much fun being back in a village where everyone on the street was either one of Melissa's students, former host families, relative of her partner teacher, or neighbor.

Melissa is one of our single living Volunteers. But unlike most who live in apartments in small towns, she literally has a villa. Nice house, huge garden, sun porch, a trusty little alarm system that eats just about anything (see photo). After a great curry dinner that she cooked for us on her soba (fireplace), we got to work planning the GLOW seminar's activities. The next morning we were so glad we spent that hour doing so because we sort of forgot about daylight savings--BIG SHOUT OUT to Jen Flannery here for her text that saved us from being late to our own event!

Six girls from grades seven and eigth came to the seminar where we discussed diversity, leadership, and the correlation between health and beauty. The participants were active, eager, and incredibly fun to listen to. When one of the girls literally said, "Oh, I get it, you have to be healthy before you can be beautiful" I almost did a personal equivalent to the touchdown dance. The best Sunday morning I've spent in Moldova yet.

I also really appreciated Melissa's invitation to co-facilitate the seminar for the sake of my language development. Volunteers from different programs have different sets of technical vocabulary and I learned quite a few new things just simply listening to her. I can't wait to do more of these seminars around my district and look forward to the summer camp in August!