Just a Dream

"Just a dream and a wind to carry me." -Christopher Cross
After spending an entire weekend immersed in Romanian I am reassured that I can make it after all. At times I was on the verge of tears and beaten with the homesickness stick, but all in all, it went well. I feel that I will have adequate help and support from the school director and my counterpart in achieving any goals I set for the next two years. Two years? Yep, two years. It is slowing sinking into my presently Romanian packed head that I will be here for two years. A lot happens in two years and I am both excited and nervous contemplating the challenges ahead.
It is no longer strange to walk next to goats on my way to class or to see a horse drawn wagon pass by not on tires, but instead metal rims. Moldova is extremely different than America, a no brainer right? But I am adjusted and enjoy living the “simpler life.” The way things work here are not always efficient (in fact, they rarely are), but they work and that is the way they will always be. The farm tools have wooden handles to prevent the workers from having to bend over to harvest and till the fields. But the simple brooms for cleaning inside and outside are about two feet in length, making a simple and quick task of sweeping very painful when you have to lean over. Maybe our community project can be to introduce the concept of attaching a long stick to the end of the broom, preventing women from having to lean completely over to make their house frumoasa.

Moldovan Reflections

I only have 31 more months here.
That doesn’t sound like a lot of time, but it kind of is.

This country is, indeed, tiny but it is warm, friendly, and beautiful. I got to go into the capital, Chisinau, and investigate the various places to go for resources I may need while teaching. We, of course, scoped out one of the three McDonalds in the capital (and the only ones in the country) and had our fill. The whole meal, Quarter pounder (called Royal Cheese), fries, and a Sprite set me back about 39 lei and 50 bani. So that is about a $4 meal, not too shabby, but expensive by Moldovan standards. It was interesting to see the people treating themselves to the American delicacy. They were all well dressed and acted in socially acceptable ways, the opposite of the people in American that visit this fast food place. It seems to me to be a really special treat here to go eat at McDonalds. Also, the typical person probably makes little over what a meal for one person costs a week. So you can imagine that the clientele who visit the restaurant here are more sophisticated than those in the USA.
I was talking to a colleague of mine about the trek to language class each day and how it no longer bothers me. Who would have thought that a one-way 2km trip would almost instantly become routine? Of course, it has not gotten the hottest it will get this summer, so I may not think of it as routine for much longer. It is interesting how people walking around in rural America are seen as poor or crazy, and in almost all the other countries in the world it is normal and completely acceptable. If I were to go home after my 2 years of service and walk from the house to the nearest gas station or store (about 3 miles, not much farther than I walk daily) I would be seen as crazy. People would immediately question why I would do such a thing, since driving or riding in a car is the only acceptable way to reach a destination farther than across the street. There first answer would be that my car broke down and I am either walking to the gas station or the nearest house for assistance. After driving for a while and not finding my car they would probably give up brainstorming reasons. Others would shake their head in pity, while others would possibly feel sorry for my decision to walk and, GASP, experience exercise outside a gym. Here, the only way to get around is to walk.
My family has a car but I have only been in it twice. Once when I came from Chisinau to live with them and the other time when they brought their TV and VCR to the school for use in class that day. Walking in this village, and others, involves dirt roads, potholes, mud piles, cow, pig, goat, chicken feces, glass, stones, pebbles, uneven road, water, and cars whizzing by at high speeds. If Americans were to walk everywhere they would have it a million times easier than the people here. Plus, I am sure Americans would not where 2-3 inch heels like all the women do here. Try climbing up a 12 foot dirt hill in them and you will have a new respect for the people in other countries who choose to walk instead of a machine carrying them along through life. Sure, they really can’t afford a car, so riding in one isn’t really an option for them. Instead, they choose to spend their money on building large houses, with ornate tile work and complex metalwork on the roofs. They spend their paychecks on entertaining their guests with specialty goods and stock their garden with cherry trees, rose bushes, and many different vegetables. They adorn their gates with expensive metal and decorate their wells to show off their style and adoration for what nature provides. They invest in chickens, cows, ducks, and pigs for their meals and are efficient at creating meals with the available to them. They don’t yearn for hamburgers, fast food donuts or French fries and instead consume cabbage, dill, potatoes, chicken, garlic, cow cheese, goat cheese, cherries and wine from the hills.
It is hard to live in another country after growing up in America, and it would be extremely easy to leave, after all, I am a volunteer here and free to depart at any time. But being here, and helping these great people in accomplishing their goals is better than a million sushi dinners, cases of MAC makeup or warm showers in the dead of winter. Yep, it’s just that great.