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.

Remembrance with respect

Marking the day of her brother's death, Maria asked me to go to Church with her and participate in the Pomana. It is a ceremony that is done every Friday at church for remembering the dead. I've been to church so much lately, I've just started carrying a head scarf in my bag.

As we placed our bread, wine, candy, and candles on the table, Maria's words marked the true extent of our friendship. She said, "Melissa, I don't know about my boys. I need to teach you this, so that when I die you will know how to do this. You have to do this every year!" She was laughing, I was not, the other women waited for my reaction, and despite being in church, all I could utter was "doamne fereste," a clear violation of the fourth commandment.

This service is short and simple. Maria's commentary continued to be colorful. She was the only woman in the room not wearing a skirt, so she said I had to stand in front of her. Last time, when the elder of our two priests was reciting the service, he told her she couldn't be there without a skirt. It's one of the many reasons we prefer the younger, red-headed priest, Sergiu, that you have seen pictured in this blog. She also said the older priest, Ion, read through the list of dead so fast she didn't hear her relative's name being mentioned. Sergiu got it just right, and even I could pick out the family name we'd come to honor.

When I go to church, I merely observe. I might repeat things I believe to be true, but I do not cross myself and do not kiss idols or the hands of priests. This time, as the line of women finishing kissing the priest's hand, he turned to me and titled his head the way our old dog used to do when he heard his name. As if to say, "well young lady, we'll get you soon enough."

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?"