January 20, 2010--This is a Story of Perseverance

January 20, 2010--This is a Story of Perseverance

I awoke with headache and a yearning to stay in the place I had awoken... although duty patiently prevailed. "I must be at work" I told myself.  Life called, I answered by rolling back over in bed. After one hour of listening to the debate of the little apparitions on my shoulders, I moseyed into life. Convinced that the day would be a failure, I went to work and did what any failure would do. I wasted away the gift of time on random internet browsing.  I read every article related to healthcare and the populist hangover facing America after the Massachusetts election.  Just when I thought I had had enough of my nose leaking like a high-powered squirt gun and my "for-fun" reading curdling the blood in my veins, I sat and contemplating my early departure from work and the ensuing laziness that would come of it.  

I sat... I sat... I sat and then my partner blindsided me with a wintertime picnic—today is the day of John he said—and in our particular office building “the Day of Johns” because two people are named John (Ivan is the direct translation of John).  To hear that we were having a picnic at work was odd enough, despite the fact it is the dead of winter. The patient side of my mind said give this an hour, if you’re still feeling like hell you can go home. 

The thing with any given masa in this country is that giving a little bit of time no matter the type of celebration it will get interesting with patience.  Within an hour the huge table I usually sit with my computer was cleared and a table cloth spread to its edges, with a multitude of workers from the other offices throughout the building.  I realized very quickly that I had been introduced to all of the men in the building quite long ago and the new faces present in the room were all women, who were in turn introduced to me as “not-married, not-married, and not-married”, normally in America this would make me a little uncomfortable, but since I have lived in Moldova I have become more accustomed to the statements and questions in this vein.  I can’t tell you how many times I have been introduced to a female here, and asked immediately in her presence whether or not she is attractive.  Alright actually that is still a little hard to deal with, both because of the language barrier and the obvious awkwardness. 

This masa ensued for the better part of the afternoon with the guest list being refreshed every hour.  One of the more interesting guests was a local priest, with a jolly smile on his bearded face reminiscent of a post-high school Santa Claus, who brought Kraft singles (WTF, where did he get them?), wheat bread (the first I had seen in a long time) and tartar sauce (interesting mix) and an icon of the Virgin Mary (he is a priest, it’s not weird) to the party.  Knowing that my partner Ivan is not religious, he gingerly laughed when he placed the iconic Virgin Mary picture on our bookshelf when Ivan was out of the room.  I thought it was quite funny, mostly because it was a priest, who normally I see as extremely serious in Moldova. Maybe I just don’t make it to the church enough here, maybe things get a little more wild there.  J

On this particular morning I decided to wear my Yak Trax for the very first time. Yak Trax if you are unfamiliar are amazing little slip-on traction additions to your shoes, they work extremely well.  I found myself disappointed that I had not worn them earlier, it would have prevented the two spills that I had taken early in the year on the ice.  Anyhow, this being my first day using the little gems, of course, the risk of losing them would be at an all-time high.  It always seems that way for me.  If I don’t ruin something or lose it the first day I have it, I can expect that it will be safe for at least the next year.  So “how could I possibly lose my Yak Trax on the first day of using them?” You ask.  Well, I gave them away to the young Saint Nick.  You might think “Why the hell would you do that?” as I thought when was doing it and even now.  The answer is that I was called out, being the number one diplomat for America in my village in Moldova, it was hard to say “no”.  I was asked in front of a dead-silent room full of people “Why don’t you give those to the priest? He is a priest after all”.  With all eyes on me and my decision, I sensed the corner I managed to get myself into (merely by not wanting to fall on my ass that morning, can you blame me?) and dutifully handed the Yak Trax over with a sigh and a pitiful “Why not?”.      

Overall the day was a success, the patience of waiting out the sickness led to yet another unforgettable day in Moldova. Yet on the negative side I am still able to fall on my butt any given day of iciness.  Good ol’ status quo of life I suppose.    

Cheers,

Aaron

Unfortunately, I wasn't anticipating the Day of Johns and didn't bring my camera, hence the reason you only get pictures of the Winter Wonderland. 

Just when I thought the holidays were over… Old New Year.

January 14, 2010—Just when I thought the holidays were over… Old New Year.

I am not going to lie there has been a lot of holiday celebrations here lately and I wasn’t here for half of them… and just when I thought it was all over. Some amateur Jedis came banging on our gate, demanding candy and money.

When I first saw them on my way to the outhouse, I was confused by them yelling something at me, I just figured they were messing with me, so I carried on do complete my predestined duty. When I returned I came to watch them gently hitting my babooshka with their makeshift lightsabers as they serenaded her with a song which I am sure was some special for the day—the day being the Old New Year’s eve. When I approached, I too, got to take part in the festivities and was sung to and beaten with a stick simultaneously. We gave them money, apples, bread and candy. All of which I would have thought was great as a kid as well, but the bread and apples I probably would have put in the same class as the people that give out toothbrushes on Halloween in the states. A nice gesture but the furthest thing from your mind on Halloween is brushing your teeth. It has to be taxing to be the person that only gives out toothbrushes, all night you have watch hordes of ballerinas, jedis, and other superheros and Superheroines come to your door with joy on their faces only to glance into their bags to double-check that it was indeed a toothbrush and not a mini snickers bar that they received from you, and then to only get a subdued “thank you” in return. As an adult that all kind of sounds funny now, but I don’t think I could face the tough crowd all night.

Enough on that tangent. Both new year’s eves are celebrated here, with essentially a 10-day party in between. I know that there was a big party on new years at least in the capital, although I haven’t asked my babooshka yet what they did. I am pretty positive it was a made up of few people, great food and a sampling of house wines. Typical masa. Next year I will have to find out.

Just the thought of the night…. спокойной ночи (Calm night) People.

Aaron

January 10, 2009—The Triumphant Return Home (Moldova)

January 10, 2009—The Triumphant Return Home (Moldova)

The vacation was an amazing experience, one in which I would gladly do again in the future although the world is too big of a place to stay in one place too long. We all need to see as much of it as possible. I have to admit at the end of the trip I was very hesitant to return to Moldova. I was a little overwhelmed with the experiences that I had been having. When you have been listening to the Call to Prayer from the rooftops in Jerusalem, or hiking to the Monastery in Petra or standing next to the Sphinx and Pyramids and looking over the enormous city of Cairo—all of which are humbling to say the least. So when you are waiting for your airplane in the Cairo international airport it is a little hard deal with the fact that I was flying back to my small village.

I had told my host mom here that when I returned I would cook dinner for some of the neighbors and her. This apparently turned into my birthday party without me really knowing it. Suffice it to say, the spaghetti I was intending on preparing was not nearly enough. While I prepared my addition, my baba and her friends cooked a variety of other dishes for the party. Typical Moldovan fashion is to completely cover the table with every piece of china in the house full of some sort of food. I am not sure if the goal is to eat all of the food, but if it is that goal is rarely achieved.

Host Family:

I made the spaghetti sauce from scratch so I received plenty of advice and know-how during the prep time. Luckily, the only superfluous addition into the sauce was a little bit too much oil. Not all that bad. I am not quite sure how the meal went over on the whole but everyone was kind enough to say that it was very delicious and that I should cook more in the future, despite some of the plates of it being barely picked at. Next up is tacos.

The birthday party made me feel ashamed that I even hesitated for a second coming home. We sat around the table eating and drinking for hours. Receiving toasts to my health over the next year every 5 minutes from neighbors, colleagues and my host family. It was great. I did try a few times to express my gratitude for all the generosity and blessings, I’m pretty positive it came out as garbled Russian, but hey I tried. In addition to an impaired sensation in the head and a belly full of food, I made off with two towels (which I really needed), some smelly stuff and my all-time favorite gift ever a traditional carafe sort of thing with 6 shot glasses which was full of “Taraclian Cognac” also called raiku or самагон. I had to be extremely careful opening the present lest I end up with cognac on the floor. The party winded down I believe around 11:00, a good 6 hours. My bed has never been more comfortable. (I fear going to a wedding here though, they are supposed to last two days).

Neighbors:

Cheers:

I felt incredibly spry this morning which was a nice bonus considering the excesses of birthdays, although I did sleep the majority of this Sunday away. My plan is to next write about each of the countries I visited, which I regret not doing while I was in country. Oh well, you live and learn right? Talk to you soon.

Aaron

Merry Christmas from Moldova

Hello All,

This will be will a shorty... I am just about to head out on my vacation in Egypt, Israel and Jordan.  The benefits of not seeing the family for the holidays.   My camera didn't make it in time, but I will steal my fellow volunteers cameras from time to time to take in the surroundings for you all back home. 

It is probably going to be a little while until I post again.  Although I am pretty positive you all can take it, because I think I have done it to you a few times before... Anyhow i hope all is well.

Peace out,

P.S.  Merry Christmas

Aaron

Short posts have been deemed OK by me now.

December 21, 2009—Short posts have been deemed OK by me now.

I have decided that I can leave short posts on the blog now.  Stories too long for Facebook, but shorter than what I normally considered a post on the ol’ blog.

Today I couldn’t help but laugh a little while at my favorite gym in the world.  Yes some days Клуб Здорове is the highlight of the day, which runs contrary to everything I have ever said about health clubs back in the states. Who knows, I might even gain a little bit of muscle in Moldova, which would be just be weird  and the last thing I thought I would do here. 

Anyhow, I couldn’t help have a shit-eating grin on my face while watching some Moldovans and I workout to such rock anthems as “Jingle Bell Rock”, “The Wind Beneath my Wings”, an R. Kelly song that I don’t know the name of and quite a few other songs that I can’t seem to remember now.  The comedy gold is in the same ironic vein as the anachronistic t-shirts sporting “witty” English phrases from yesteryear. 

Sometimes it is the little things that make you smile.

Word,

Aaron

December 20, 2009—My Icy Kingdom.

December 20, 2009—My Icy Kingdom.

Snow came.  Village shut down partially.  I shoveled some snow. I stayed warm in my room.  I sledded with my 4^th grade class.  I thought a lot about throwing snowballs at my annoying dog.  I watched more than my fair share of movies.  I came very close to throwing snowballs at my annoying dog.  I dreamed about my upcoming vacation. I was very cold when it was -20 degrees Celsius at night (apparently, so says the baba and partner).  I got a minor case of cabin fever.  I realized it was an acute case of laziness rather than cabin fever.   I played lots of Ping-Pong at the gym I like.  I felt better.  I did laundry.  My clothes froze.  I thawed them.  I have clean clothes now.  Life is funny.  Life is good.  Russian is hard.  Baby steps.  I am writing on my blog finally—right now.

I blame my camera being broken (a causality of war) for no blog contact over the past few weeks, at least I wish that counted as an excuse. It doesn’t, but I WILL attribute it as the very reason why there isn’t a single picture of my village covered in two feet of snow on this post.  I will do my best to describe life without accompanying charts and graphics. J

Apparently it has been 3 years since the last time it has snowed as much as it has in the last few days here.  If remember from my prior posts, the majority of the people that I talk to here are above the age of 60 or around the age of 10.   So the things that I commonly hear from the older folk around here, in Russian mind you is “ three years ago there was a storm about this size, BUT when I was a kid the snow would be over our heads and we would have to shovel tunnels through the snow to get to various places”—a rough translation, but fairly familiar isn’t it?  Much like childhood stories where our parents experienced every life experience that we have only ten-fold.  At what age do you normally realize that uphill both ways is not possible?  What should I glean from my baba’s story:  1) global warming is real? or 2) parents are liars? I am thinking both.   White liars and an overactive sense of gullibility—damn my childhood.

I really wanted some pictures of the winter wonderland here.  It is quite beautiful.  Roads mysteriously become level-looking, still have to keep the lazy eye on the road regardless of the appearance.  Luckily the open manholes don’t become completely hidden in the heavy snow, otherwise I would end up on Russian television as the scared American in the bottom of the well. 

The walls of the shoveled pathways through the courtyard of house stand just below my waist.  I can see dogs if I go out of my way to see past their personal ice castles.  The pregnant cat has been calling the outside attic home.  Practically every time I leave the house via the exit under that part of the house, I hear Даша (Dasha the cat) say a few words and then pull a Cliffhanger move to descend down the gas piping to ladder a few feet below.  The first few times it kind freaked me out, but now I just want a camera so I can film her.  If I am leaving the house in this fashion it probably means that I am going to admire my cold, cold kingdom from the vantage point of my icy, icy throne.   Oh the little big things. 

On that note I have said too much and need to go to bed. 

Love you all,

Эрон

6-month review

December 10, 2009--  6-month review

Apparently I have already been here for 6 months.  I think that calls for a moments of brief reflection.  Maybe I will do this every three-six months—absolutely no promises.

Where am I?

I am still living in a country by the name of Moldova.  It hasn’t changed much sense I have been here, although my local internet provider promises me that faster internet is right around the corner.  I have talked about the possible changing of the political regime in earlier posts.  The latest news on that subject is there is no change—again.  Moldova currently has a interim president who will be there at least until next year.  The rather large communist party declined to offer a candidate for the presidency and boycotted the vote in general, leaving the reformist parties 8 votes shy of the 61 votes that are requisite for a presidential hopeful.  Interesting, yes. Prolonged politics just like the US, yes.   I’ll keep you informed.

What am I doing?

Currently I am exploring possible projects with my partner.  I would really like to do a project growing mushrooms with local farmers, but I have yet to have found a suitable partner for that.  I am also trying to put together a presentation that is based purely on cheap alternatives to expensive store-brought products for farmers.  We will see how that one goes. It is a rather difficult thing to do. 

Other projects involve trying to figure how I can help preschools here in my village.   There are a total of 4, all of which need help in their own sort of way.  One in particular is in considerably more need than the others although getting on the same page as to what is needed has proven to be a challenge. 

The one project that I have complete faith in right now, takes places at the health club that I mentioned earlier in my blogging adventures.  The club I have realized provides a great alternative for teenagers to do something productive, other than drinking.  I, for example, can speak from experience on the things the things you teenagers resort to, when they feel there is nothing to do in town.  This particular club, despite the endless character it possesses is in desperate of some essential repairs:  a roof that is the prime culprit for the growth of mold; a floor that has been the victim of 25 years domestic abuse from the dropping of weights; and a general scrub and paint job that would spruce the place up.   I would like to organize some sort of artistic contest where a local student(s) would be able to paint or add a piece of art to the décor of the gym when the place has been completed.  A forewarning to you all, my partner in this project and I have decided that the best funding source available for this particular project would be a grant in which I request funding from various sources in the states—including you kind folks.  I will keep you updated.  This may very well be the death of this blog.    

Can I talk to people in Russian, yes or no? Answer:  kind of, sometimes, maybe, all of which are suitable answers.  It is funny how fast a normal conversation can dive into the realm of Aaron-has-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about.  I feel like I have gotten to a level where I can in general understand what is happening in conversation around me.  With adequate time, I can contribute a decent answer that mostly likely won’t be grammatically correct, but at least it is a try.  I am excited to see what an additional six months will do for me. 

How do I occupy myself?

Occupied is not the best word for it, merely the first word that comes to mind.  Pace in general is a lot slower here, I usually spend the first half of my work day exploring possibilities for projects and having small conversations with people at work.   I usually get distracted by a decent modicum of news via about 5 different sites.  Today, for example, I explored the how to use Google Wave and how I might be able help my partners here with it, if of course they have computers.  I usually spend a good chunk of my day exploring something like that. 

After a large Bulgarian/Moldovan lunch I will study a little bit with one of my two tutors.  I usually go to tutor classes for 2 hours at a time and twice a week.  A typical class consists of trying to talk without the help of books or dictionaries. We usually simply talk about the things I have done since the last time I have seen my tutor, after my new material has run out we descend into the Russian textbooks which I was given at the start of the Peace Corps which still, not surprisingly, contain a lot of material I don’t yet know. 

After the lesson, I either play games in English with a 4^th grade class or I make my way to the gym.  Hopefully I have worked up at least a couple drops of sweat from the workout, otherwise the super-sized meal that is waiting at home will add two kilograms rather than one.  I have made a promise to myself to regain my health when I return to the states, it will have to wait two years though.   

Food in general—how is it?

I already mentioned I plan to give an epic fight to regain my health when I get back to the states, that having been said I haven’t become accustomed to nearly all of the food here.  From the overly-buttered and -oiled everything, to the sheer mass amount of food consistently in front of you , to the soup appropriately described as the “fat soup” amongst volunteers.  Yes I eat it all and it is pretty good, although if I was to name a top ten of things that I miss it food items would probably make up 8 of those slots.  I have found it is really easy to miss good food.

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That is all I have for the moment, I am a little tired.  How have the last 6 months treated you?  Any big news that I don’t know about?

Cheers folks,

Aaron