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

Thanksgiving Limited Edition Blog

11.26.2009—Thanksgiving Limited Edition Blog

Aside from a few hangovers here and there, today is the most I have longed for home since I have been in Moldova.  Over the last few days I have been reading the news headlines about how people and turkeys have both been gaining weight over the last 5 decades, about how the Thanksgiving day parade has changed routes defying history, and of course about the black Friday deals speculation.  These sorts of things I have not and will not miss in my time here.  Although talking to the family for a little while earlier has made me realize the things that I do miss:

1)      I miss beating my brother at ping pong during holidays. (and usually picking a fight with him at some point in the night)
2)      I miss flipping my sister crap about anything in general. (I also miss her motivation for fun during the holidays)
3)      I miss that oh so good feeling of overdosing on tryptophan and falling asleep on the couch. (yes, I know that tryptophan isn’t the reason why I fall asleep after the Thanksgiving meal—it is the fact that I eat and drink like it is the last morsel and last drop of wine/beer I will ever consume)
4)      I miss getting to steal my nephew’s bed for the holidays.  (Maybe because my bed was always one of the first to go when relatives came to our house when I was young)
5)      I miss the slight shade of red and the shit-eating grin that mysteriously appear on my father’s face when he has downed a beer or two.  (He is kind of a lightweight)
6)      I miss my mother’s constant threats about how she is going to break out the wooden spoon if I don’t quit what I am doing.  (She usually gets it out but they are hollow threats in the end—she is all talk)
7)      I miss getting my 3 nephews and niece all riled up just before bed.  Making it hell for my brother and sister.
8)      I miss being the sibling without kids at the holiday, because I get to rub it in a little. J
9)      I miss how hard it is steer the Eisenbarths anywhere.  (I was once told that we are like trying to herd cats)
10)   I miss friends that are essentially family members (and all of their flaws)

Happy Thanksgiving folks

Love,

Aaron

A Few Words from Your Son, Brother, Friend or Acquaintance

November 18^th, 2009—A Few Words from Your Son, Brother, Friend or Acquaintance.

Hello all,

Life has been rife with experience since the last post, although I suppose that is just a perspective, whether you think I am talking about the rife or the life part. I have been on a bit of a reverse facebook binge if you will.  With all the free time allotted to me here, I feel that it is far, far too easy to slip into the blackhole (both of good and evil) that is the internet.  When you finally muster up the energy to close the internet browser then comes the black box of laziness that is the external hard drive complete with damn near every series of television that I have ever wanted/needed/never should have started watching on it.  I actually don’t consider myself to have been all that lazy over the last two weeks although there have been few moments laying in bed with a laptop on my belly, and a movie and minesweeper open on my desktop.   Something about growing up in the great generation of multi-taskers has enabled me to detect mines and simultaneously watch a serious movie out of the corner of my mind.

That all being said I have been trying to find new things in my village to entertain this mind.  I have successfully found what I previously did not believe to be in my village: a gym.  It is hands down the best gym I have ever worked out in—in my entire life.  Why?

1)      Because it lacks 50 televisions;
2)       it is the size of my old living room;
3)      its dilapidated structure has more character than any of the sterile, lifeless structures that I have seen in the states;
4)       the weights and equipment are from a very classic yesteryear variety;
5)       it has 1980’s Arnold Arnold Schwarzenegger posters all over the walls;
6)       in Moldova you are not surrounded by meatheads flexing their muscles incessantly in the mirrors, instead you are surrounded by few people rocking sweaters and tracksuits;
7)       and last and certainly not least there is an old pingpong table located in the back that has a certain holy allure to it where I get to play a whole bunch of really good Moldovans.  I am currently shooting a 50% win rate.  I’m trying to make you proud America. 

Yes I realize that it is probably just a novelty factor, although let me have my moment, maybe I will finally lose that baby chub that I have been passively trying to lose for 25 years.  

Something else interesting that happened recently was my first and second visit to the Russian dentist.  Something I must say is an experience.  The fact that I speak Russian instead of Romanian to him, I believe gained me a few brownie points, although my ability to talk about dentist-related specifics has not yet bloomed (it is high on my list), so listening to the dentist ramble on about something about teeth and the sound of the drill told me that I definitely had a cavity.  Previous to this appointment I had made plans to meet a friend of a friend in the capital.  The friend and her sister ended up being two very good-looking women, who I am sure I impressed with my incessant salivation due to a numbed mouth.   Not exactly my smoothest moment.   My tooth is fine now, although before I leave for Egypt I need to get the permanent filling put on, so maybe I will have the pleasure of telling you about another grand experience at the Russian dentist soon.

The picture that I have posted are pictures from one of the many holidays for Saints, I have a new respect for all of the saints of the past.  They give a reason for celebration, there should always be more reasons for that.  In fact tomorrow will apparently be another saintly reason to celebrate.  Maybe I will be motivated to write about it. 

Talk to you all soon

A-Ron

Two Weeks in the Mici

November 2nd--Two Weeks in the Mici

Howdy Folks,

I have been told that the most cliché line in blogs is “sorry that it has been so long since my last post”. I intend to never say it again or at least never again apologize for my inconsistency whichever way you prefer to view it.

These past two weeks I have been staying in a different village named Milestii Mici. It was yet again another village that was beautiful and possessed a unique character that sets it apart from cities in the states. It is always interesting to get a glimpse of a different village here and it also relaxing to be back around native English speakers if just for a few days. I had another absolutely awesome family who I very much enjoyed talking with, although the fact that I was in a village with friends from the states it made it very hard to be home much at night because we all had more than a few stories to tell.

The purpose of the two weeks there was to wrap up pre-service training for the Peace Corps, this might not make sense to you at first thought I have been a volunteer for about 3 months now, but I assure you it was the correct way to finish up training. We essentially got two weeks of language class and technical classes that answered a wide variety of the questions all of us have developed over the past few months of confusion.

The two weeks was concluded with a conference where half of the current volunteers met up in the capital. One and a half days of what I thought was a made up of productive meetings, oh god what does it mean when I start enjoying meetings? Could this be the slippery slope of aging? Jesus, I am going to go check the receding hairline after this post. I haven’t decided if I am growing my hair out as defiant refusal to act my age or if I am acquiescing to it and simply growing the comb over while there is still time left. Either way Mullets are ok here, so I don’t have to worry for awhile. Anyhow after the conference was all over with we got to have a nice dinner at a local restaurant where we meet the Ambassador of the US for Moldova, a very nice and seemingly genuine person who was kind enough to give a memorable speech about his thoughts on Peace Corps and how he would like his son to do it as well. I personally liked the awkward silence that precluded the speech, it was kind of like when one person starts a standing ovation (you know when one person claps for a little while by their lonesome and then everyone chips in) except for opposite—a standing silent awkwardness—if you will. One person stood up in order to give respect to the Very Important Person in the room and then slowly everyone else did the same, although what was funny was that he was waiting for the champagne toast to talk, so instead of us sitting and waiting for that he got to make a fairly uncomfortable phone call while we all watched in silence. The night went on without a hitch after that and I even made it into bed at a reasonable hour, which is an accomplishment.

All in all, I loved my time in the Mici, but I am happy to be home in Taraclia. It is great to see the babooshka and get back to figuring out some projects to do. It is approaching the daytime freezing temperatures here and it is pretty dark at much at 5 o’clock. I guess this is all part of the test that is Peace Corps service. Anyhow until next time, I wish you all the best.

Cheers,

Aaron

10.16.09--Winefest

October 16, 2009—Winefest

Welcome to Winefest:

So what were you expecting me to say about Winefest? You probably wanted some sort of tale of how I made a fool of myself in one way or another (stories which I also enjoy), or maybe you want to live vicariously through an amazing event where I barged into a kitchen at a resort to find someone to vouched for my legality, drank a beer with a lookalike of Mick Jagger, made out with an older woman and lost a friend at the party only to find him the next day wandering around the large resort like a lost child (Sorry mama J)—which did to happen to me once, just not here. I can’t really give you either today.

Although I did like this guy's bow tie:

I can say that Winefest was simply amazing. It was exactly like Disneyland (but different): it had Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse riding around on a little train waving their puffy white gloves at passerby’s as if to say “hello”, it had rides to appease the bumper car junkies, and where it lacked Thunder Mountain it made up with a plethora of booths, some going for the traditional look of a fair booth, some in the shape of oversized wine barrels, and some looking like royalty owned them and of course all of them selling wine, cognac, and vodka at reasonable prices. Not to mention the шашлик (bbq), which was everywhere and delicious. There was a concert stage and a traditional music playing from every direction. So I suppose is it was like an affordable Disneyland made for adults. I had a great time. I danced my butt off for a long, long time and socialized with damn near everyone at some point.

Proof that they stole Mickey:

The Barrel booth:

This was all a very good thing to do after a 5k run at 10:00 that morning. I believe I took roughly 9^th place in this particular race out of maybe 25. I guess the funny self-deprecating thing that I can say about the race is that I never passed one person. I was that guy that thought he would try to pace one of the people leading the masses. After I realized the first group belonged in a much higher echelon of runners, I tried to pace the next challenger only to realize the futility also present in this attempt, and the next, and the next until I was in 9^th place not to be passed again or pass anyone ever. I have no qualms with the outcome and I was proud with my 8-minute mile time, can’t complain since I have never fashioned myself a runner. I was simply happy that I didn’t give in to the oh-so-good burn in my lungs.

Look at that game face:

Anyhow it is bedtime, I hope that will suffice for now… hmmm how about if possible you all go out and buy yourselves a bottle of Moldovan wine if possible, for all of you in Walla Walla I know the nose may be in the air, but give it a whirl—variety, after all, is the spice of life.

Peace, Love, & Aaron

October 9, 2009--Wine & Babooshka Sabotage

Wine and Babooshka Sabotage

This weekend is Moldova’s famous Wine Festival—День вина. I have heard rumor that this festival can be as good a drunken time as the well known Oktoberfest in Germany. This may be going too far, although I will find this out shortly. Saturday I will take part in a 5K run in Chisinau and then spend the rest of the day measuring the awesomeness of this festival. I’m crossing my fingers. I’m sure that there will be a blog post devoted to this celebration.

If there is one thing that Moldovans are proud of more than anything else it is their wine. It is a tasty drink of choice that I happen to agree with. Some volunteers have ended up living with families that do not grow their wine, I am happy to say that is not the case where I live. My babooshka and I have made the standard house wine a few weeks ago as well as a cabernet yesterday. Just like the chore of husking corn, winemaking is a very family and neighbor oriented task. The babooshkas typically go up and down the rows of grapes picking large baskets full of grapes and having others run them to where I and a few others are cranking away on crushing the grapes and filtering the grape juice (best grape juice I have ever had) in large wine barrels. At the end of the day we made three large barrels full of potentially delicious вино. This is a tradition I would gladly bring back to the states with. It is a very fun hobby and actually a very cheap way of stocking your shelves with some decent wine.

Smashing the grapes:

Babooshkas in the field:

My Babooshka’s grandson Dan (даник)

What is work without a feast:

So is this story is too funny to not tell. I contemplated whether or not to tell it for at least five minutes. So my babooshka and I often use a very primitive form of the telephone on a regular basis, she actually calls it a telephone. Every time a meal is prepared she knocks on the wall in the kitchen to which my room is adjacent. My house is oddly built, so the knock is actually the efficient thing to do, otherwise one must walk through three rooms (including the babooshka’s room) to get to my room. I usually come quickly because I don’t want to make her wait. This particular day of making wine was a tiring day and after we had finished with the wine, I lied down on my bed for a quick powernap and waited for the food to be finished. I fell asleep just long enough to get that groggy and dazed feeling that comes with initially waking up in the morning. I woke up to the telephone “ringing” and quickly jumped up and proceeded to the kitchen, upon opening the door to the babooshka’s room (like I always do) I walked in on one of the babooshkas changing. Whoops. My immediate reaction was to say «ещё раз», which is NOT the correct answer in Russian in this particular situation. It means “one more” or “one more time,” obviously my Russian reflexes are not up to snuff compared with my English reflexes, in which the proper response would have been “Excuse me,” or “I’m sorry,” or at least “whoops,” or any combination of all of the proceeding responses. Thank God I didn’t see anything and that I quickly made my exit. The thing that I find funny is that I haven't habitualized a apology yet in my Russian, that means I still have to think about it before I say it. Although I have made great progress in asking for more food. "Would you like another piece of chicken?"«ещё раз» please.

It didn’t seem to bother her, but I was a little red in the face at the feast followed—although that could have been the wine.

October 4, 2009—Shucking or husking Koяn, whichever you like…

October 4, 2009—Shucking or husking Koяn, whichever you like…

Every day I take a short walk through the streets of Taraclia to my work. I pass by the brightly painted, ornate gates of houses, seemingly ceaseless barking dogs, geese whose days are numbered, school children dressed in their black and whites and a road that you cannot take your eyes off of lest you end up on it. Looking off in the distance I can see rolling hills littered with patches of sunflower and corn fields, barns overfilled with hay so much that the covered hay resembles elephants trying to fit into outhouses.

Today I walked home to find a good percentage of the stalks of corn littered throughout my neighborhood. People buy the bulk corn and it is delivered to their front gate in one gigantic pile. They then have mini-work parties in which neighbors, family and neighbors that are family sit around these piles and husk corn until the pile is gone. There is a standard textbook approach to this chore, it involves about 5-7 people (typically babooshkas) sitting on stools doing nothing but husking the cobs and throwing them into one pile and the stalks into another, all the while 1-2 other people (typically men or children) stack the stalks back into another large pile for someone else to pick up the next day. These runners, if you will, also have another job (probably the most important) and that is to periodically walk around the circle serving shot glasses of wine to the workers. I couldn’t think of a more efficient way to accomplish this task, the social lubricant (wine) makes for hours of gossiping, joking, storytelling and getting the job done.

Neighbor and kids:

Initially I called this work, although after being there for a few minutes I realized it barely resembled the concept of work that I have seen time and time again back home. It was a community doing what needed to be done for winter and making the best of it. The perspective was turned on its head instead of focusing on the seemingly insurmountable pile of corn; the focus was on laughing at stories and socializing. I have had my fair share icebreakers and team-builders at jobs throughout my life, but none have felt as fluid and authentic as this. It was genuine experience that I got to repeat two days later when the new piles were placed in front of my house and I got to be the one pouring the wine.