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. 

World Map Project | Proiectul Harta Lumii

When a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer had to urgently leave the country, she wasn't able to finish the World Map Project she initiated in her community. The World Map Project is a worldwide Peace Corps initiative that began in 1988. A Volunteer in the Dominican Republic was struggling to teach her geography lessons without materials, and thus resorted to painting the map directly on the wall of her classroom.

I traveled to my friend's former village this week to help her community implement the project. Through a penny war, the students raised close to 300 USD, enough to re-finish a wall and buy all the necessary supplies to paint a map in their main corridor. Though I was rather intimidated by this project, my friend's former partner (Liliana) and I found the Peace Corps' World Map Handbook extremely easy to follow. We even finished the project hours ahead of schedule.

We spent the first day reading the manual and organizing our plan. Day two we made a grid on our map to make the sketching of the countries practically fool-proof and started painting. According to the manual's color-coding, Russia was painted yellow, Ukraine red, and China pink. If you are eager to make a political joke about the color coding, too late. I've heard them all this week!

By the end of the third day, we had every country painted and came back the next morning to make last minute touches and let two girls from the eighth grade scribe the names of each country.

I could not be happier with the results of this project. I was a skeptic at first. Had no idea what I was doing. How could I help with a project I knew nothing about? But now I am seriously considering doing a World Map Project in my own community. I owe a big THANK YOU to the other volunteers who gave me advice along the way. You know who you are!

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!

Hristos a înviat! Christ is risen!

Easter is the most important holiday in Moldova's Eastern Orthodox Culture. About two weeks ago people started "Easter cleaning" in their homes and gardens. Not one tree trunk has gone without white-wash, not one carpet escaped a beating. Furthermore, the most devout have been on a 49 day "post," meaning they have adhered to a strictly vegan diet. Not many made it the whole time, my host brother did, but my host mom just picked out a few of the more important days to participate in the post. Again regarding the big build-up, Maria and I began cooking on Thursday. Basically, she does all things meat related and then sits me at the table to slice home made egg noodles, throw together "salads" of various varieties, and build this cake made of alternating layers of a thin wafer and sweetened-condensed milk with walnuts. In this picture, Maria is preparing one of the two Easter breads.

Friday, things kicked into a little higher gear and Maria recruited me to offer up some manual labor at the bread factory where she is an accountant. Everyone was pitching in for the Easter preparations, no matter one's exact title. We had been trying to find a way for me to go to the factory during the work day anyway, to observe the conditions of the workers. I am at a loss to provide a metaphor or simile that characterizes the factory correctly. The massive structure is 70 years-old, the high ceilings are supported by fading blue-tiled walls, a breeze inevitable blows the poorly constructed and aging windows, and the natural light from the opaque windows on the ceiling and the few bare light bulbs in various crevices of the factory combine to form a dull, stale illumination.

Working in the assembly line, the chatter was simple and anticipatory of the coming celebrations. I fielded lots of questions about how we celebrate Easter in the United States. My answers to these questions always begin with "it's different for every family." The similarities are evident, celebrating spring, preparation of more food than is remotely necessary, and spending time with family. But the fact that Easter isn't a religious holiday for some families, or that in fact there are families and faiths that don't celebrate Easter at all is a bit more challenging for Moldovans to grasp. Completely understandable considering how long their borders were literally locked.

Finally, preparations being complete (including these eggs that we dyed using only boiled onion skins!), Easter celebrations actually commenced on Saturday night. Some, particularly groups of men or teenagers, built bon fires in fields with the preferred pyrotechnic being scraps of old tires. As my host brother, neighbor, her boyfriend, and myself left for Church, we could see the fires' glow on just about every hill surrounding the town.

The four of us arrived at the Church about 11:30 pm, and wiggled our way to the front of the room. A few candles had already been lit and although you can not see the choir, they had already begun to sing...And then the clock struck mid-night.

It's not really worth it for me to compare the experience that followed to anything in the United States. First of all, fire marshals would never allow that many people (holding candles nonetheless), crammed into a room with one exit. So instead, I'll just tell it like it happened--they turned out the lights!

There we stood, in the dark. Not one candle lit, not one light bulb providing, crammed like proverbial sardines. I don't know if it was because I just finished reading a Dan Brown novel with a claustrophobic protagonist, or because I am an uptight American, but my heart rate noticeably quickened. Breathing became shallow. And I suddenly became acutely aware of the absence of green "exit" signs flanking the building.

This part probably lasted only two minutes, thankfully, before the priest started the official ceremony. He then entered the sanctuary from behind the closed doors of the altar caring three candle sticks and told the people (it was only my second time in a Moldovan church, but my first time actually understanding what was being said!) to take in the light of Christ. The front rows of people rushed to light their candles from his larger three, and within moments the light had been shared all the way to the back. My host brother, Sergiu, was the one that informed me how true the priest's words were. Apparently, the flame is a descendant of the eternal flame in Jerusalem. Last week the Moldovan government lit a descending flame, transported it in a plane to Moldova, whereby every region then took a flame, and shared it upon the people all across Moldova. My first reaction: what a beautiful celebration. My second impression: hmmm...not quite separation of church and state. Unfortunately, I like both reactions equally.

After taking our flames outside and walking around the Church three times, we went back inside for four more hours of fellowship. No typo folks, four more hours we stood listening to the choir, repeating some rituals, and listening to readings. This video is a sample of an event that took place several dozen times over the course of the night. [Translation: Hristos a înviat! Christ is risen! Adeverat a înviat! Indeed, he has!]

Around four o'clock members of the congregation took communion and we headed outside to prepare for one last ritual. I have been wanting to note that while I have much respect for these so strictly adhered traditions, there were many events throughout the night that not even my very religious elderly neighbors could explain. I will keep asking.

For my town of about 14,000 people there is only one Orthodox Church. So when we eventually headed toward the exit, I expected there to be a line of people out the door. Earlier I had observed speakers that relayed the events inside the church to the courtyard. However, what I didn't expect, was 1,000 people (Sergiu's estimation) surrounding the church with their picnic baskets and candles that continued to share the flame from Israel. At this point Sergiu leaned in and said, "if you thought it was interesting at mid-night, just wait. Va fi mai interesant. It will get more interesting."

This last film pretty much relays the events. The sloppy ending is my attempt to not let my camera get doused, even in the holiest of waters. With the water, the priest was both blessing us (to be well behaved) and the food in our picnic basket. As per the etiquette, we will continue to eat from this blessed food for three days.

...Which is what we did immediately after arriving home at 6 o'clock Sunday morning!

Vă doresc un Paște fericit pe toți, și săbarotile cum doriți și daca doriți!

I wish you all a very happy Easter however/if you chose to celebrate!