I just had a goose come after me like some goofy heat-seeking missile, not scary at all, just kind of weird. Something about the threatening manner of approach mixed with a complete lack of a perceived violence made me smile. Life is funny.
So I read my first book in Russian. “Book” is not the right word but it’s the first word to come to mind. Let’s call it a short fairytale, albeit it took the time of a short book to translate: the little чёрт. It was called «Маша и медведь» or “Marcia and the Bear”—yes it felt like one of those Big Boy strikes again moments. Contrary to what you might think, it was a riveting tale about a girl not catching up to her friends quick enough and getting lost in the forest. Eventually she stumbles upon a hut, specifically one of those huts in which you knock and the door opens all by itself. Fairytale characters are always stupid, I have found, no matter what culture they are from (Much like the Crazy Cat Lady-referenced in an earlier post). Curiosity, of course, got the best of my little Marcia «маша-чек» and she entered the hut and waited for the owner to return.
Here is a picture of the bear’s return to the hut:
I believe that маша-чек should have known better. She should have seen the Mushrooms1 drying and realize this guy is probably out of his mind exploring the recesses of his brain somewhere out in the forest. She should have seen whatever this thing2 is, surely it is used for more than its prescribed use in the fireplace. The bear—even with the loving, goofy look on his face—walks in and essentially says “you are going to be my slave and cook my food and never leave this house again.” Luckily, after crying for a sentence or two, маша-чек realizes that Bear is not the brightest bear in the woods, Bear has obviously explored those recesses a tad too much. She convinces the bear to carry a huge crate of Perrogies (A crate of potato and cheese dumplings, come on Bear!) to her grandparent’s house. Goof Troop begins this task not realizing that there is actually a little girl in the huge crate with only a plate of Perrogies resting on her head. He didn’t notice when he picked up the crate that a little girl was missing from his spacious studio apartment that he resided in. I suppose I’ll forgive him his pupils were pretty dilated.
Long story short, the bear gets to the grandparents house and is chased off by the ferocious neighborhood dogs (evidenced in the above picture) that smell him when he sets down the gigantic crate of Perrogies in front of their house. I don’t mean to be critical but he isn’t doing the image of bears any justice by getting the boot from a couple of lapdogs.
As you can see my Russian reading skills have taken leaps and bounds in a mere two-and-a-half-month span here in Moldova. I don’t usually throw the prodigy child jargon around very often but I think the evidence speaks for itself in this case. I bought a mug a few years back for my mother. The mug has a really amazing picture of myself on it (Smiling a prize-winning smile with a trucker’s hat, long oily hair, and a nasty inch-and-half goatee hanging off my chin) and says “World’s Greatest Genes.”
Don’t hate. I’m just living up the great expectations bestowed upon me at birth! J
Peace, Love, Aaron
Not.
Almost.
Action Shot.
Official. Notice the overwhelming sense of self-worth in my face…no…well try harder. I don’t mean to be facetious; it just comes a little too easy.
Last night went very well. For our last night as trainees, we had a large celebration, in which all of the volunteers did something like a presentation, song, dance, play, speech or mix of the possibilities. I personally, as you all know, did a presentation on composting and had a part in a Russian play called “Terem Teremok.” Everything went very well, although our play didn’t exactly get the standing ovation that we expected. I blame that on the fact that we went after a couple of volunteers sang a beautiful Moldovan song that brought the house down. So we were doomed from the start, regardless of the fact that I had to announce that our play was over. J I laughed.
My friend David and I presented on compost with style. Despite our horrible accents and I think we got a few brownie points for being dressed professionally for our presentation. I’m pretty sure at least one person considered doing compost in their homes after we were done, although they may have forgotten about their enthusiasm shortly thereafter. My fingers are crossed. Besides it was more of a celebration of the time we had spent with our families than a time for lecture.
After all the theatrics were over with, we went outside to enjoy some wine and snacks. Some of my fellow volunteers contributed some ol’ fashioned chocolate chip cookies and of course a slightly different version of Tiny Weenies. It was funny and nostalgic at the same time, but not necessarily enjoyable.
Walking up the next morning to travel to Taraclia was a little rough, but that was just because I danced the night away on accident. Dancing in a big circle is the typical fashion—it is called the Hora. It is pretty easy to catch on to, even for the most inept. I feel like my moves are appreciated in Moldova, or maybe it’s just the tie. Just like with the presentation the tie commands respect, not so much the moves.
