You Want to Do What??? Riiight

Nothing goes as planned. Moldova is a living testament to this phrase. Monday is Halloween and I wanted to have a party with my students to celebrate. Our school's fall vacation begins on Monday, so I had planned to have the party on Friday, during the last two periods of school which are optional, meaning that only a few students actually have class during this time. I told the students to wear costumes and bring an apple to bob for. I had planned on having a balloon relay, costume contest, music, and pin the tail on the donkey (or wart on the witch). I was really excited about all this, and all of my students seemed enthusiastic when I mentioned it to them.
So today I was in the teacher's lounge in between classes and I happened to mention to another teacher that I was having a Halloween party tomorrow and she could come if she wanted. Having overheard me, another teacher jumped in and said that I would have to ask the director, because it was the last day before vacation and everyone goes home. I told her that I told my students and that they knew about it and were going to go home after the party. 'Oh no," she said, "the students go home after the 5th class, not the 6th and 7th (which was when my party was going to be), you can't have a party then because we have to go home." Well then. I went in search of the director to talk the matter over. She was not in. Neither was the assistant director. They would not be in until tomorrow afternoon, which would be entirely too late to be on the fence about a party that students needed to be prepared for. So the party is cancelled. Instead, I am telling the kids to visit my class during one of their breaks and I will give them a surprise. The surprise is a homemade sign for them to wear and some candy. Every Moldovan kids' dream, right?
So how was I ever to find out that there would be no 6th and 7th period classes tomorrow? Had the other teacher not chosen to speak up I would never have known. I would have prepared two lessons, anticipating two classes during 6th and 7th period and be pissed when my students didn't show up or when I learned of the cancelled classes. My counterpart is supposed to tell me these things, but she is too busy explaining to me how to write the grades, dates and assignments into the catalog every time she hands me one. Everyday it is the same annoying process. She approaches me with a big blue book for one of the classes. "Here is the agenda for . You have this class? When do you have this class?" I pull out my schedule and tell her. "Ok, and when do you have their optional class?" I tell her. "Ok, so in the agenda....on page you will write the obligatory classes, only the obligatory classes. Do you have a calendar with you? Ok, so you have them Monday and Tuesday and their optional class is Wednesday. Then you will write, starting from September 1st, every date for Monday and Tuesday, only, not the optional class. You will write the date, the grades on this page. On this page you will write the dates, the lesson, and the homework. Then in the back of the book...on page...you will write only the optional classes. Wednesday? Then you will only write the Wednesday dates starting from September 1st, with the grades on this page, and on the other you will write the date, the lesson, and the homework. Ok?" This is the conversation EVERY TIME she hands me a new catalog/agenda/register/whatever. The whole system is extremely archaic and simplistic, a toothless farsighted drunk quadriplegic could figure it out and get it correct. Really, it is the single must annoying thing I have to had to go through here in Moldova (if only that were true).
A homeroom teacher for one of the grades I teach approached me during the same break asking me about what I wrote in the catalog/agenda/whatever. Apparently, I didn't start from the first day of school, September 1st, and instead began September 29th. She was highly upset about it, since the agenda/catalog/whatever is more important to them then their first born. She insisted on knowing why I had written grades, lessons, and homework from the 29th and not the 1st like I am supposed to. I told her that I did not have that particular class till the 29th of September. I wrote my own agenda/catalog/whatever and so I know this to be correct. "Why didn't you have them till then?" "Because the schedule switched and changed until that date," I reply. That doesn't seem to shut this woman up. She is extremely upset and speaks louder so as other teachers can hear her and know she is upset. Only till another teacher speaks up, does she stop. The other teacher explains the situation and reason the same EXACT way that I did. But this time, the problematic teacher understands. I think the school is more concerned with being pretty and having pretty agendas/catalogs/whatevers and having all the classes written in starting from September 1st, regardless if you actually taught them then. I suppose I was supposed to make something up for the days before I actually taught them. No, my job is not to lie and fabricate lessons. That comes later, hahaha. Joking of course. Grrr. Maybe next time I should speak in a teacher accent to be more clear.

Perfect Timing Predicament

If you believe in fate, then you believe in perfect timing.
If not, then it is only a matter of possessing good or bad luck.
I believe that perfect timing is in your head. It is an excuse people use to delay an action, afraid of the possible outcome. If you wait for the perfect time to act, it will never come.
I will use the example of a man looking to propose to his girlfriend. If he is nervous about it and slightly unprepared, then the timing, of course, will not be perfect. If he is not ready to act upon his desire then the day will be too cloudy, people too rude, or not enough time. The excuses to postpone the event will be endless. However, if he is really certain about his action, and is completely and ready to propose to his girlfriend, then the timing will be perfect. The day will be balmy, people hospitable, and everything will be leisurely.
You chose your timing. Once you have decided on a course of action and are completely ready to accept the possible outcomes, it will be the perfect time. If not, then, of course, you will delay, dismissing it as not being the right time. The stars don't align and fate doesn't pop its head out of the clouds to tell you that your time is now. You make it happen all on your own. Knowing that kind of takes the romanticism and fantasy out of life, huh? I don't think so. It simply means that you are the sole person in charge of your life and your destiny. And that is some powerful stuff.

Television and Humor, Moldovan Style

After dinner/lunch my host mom and I watch television. This particular day we happened to watch a Russian knock-off of Judge Judy, except it was a man. The whole thing was blatantly made up, and unreal. The courtroom was brightly light and resembled nothing like a remotely normal courtroom. There was a "guard" with a gun standing behind the person being tried. The judge, defendant, prosecutor, guilty party, and every witness were miked. After the judge announced the next witness a man would open the door and go outside to call the person forward. Immediately, the camera would switch to outside the courtroom where people are standing around chatting and whatnot. Here you see the man calling forth the witness and they walk into the courtroom. It would all be believable if the some of the same people that were sitting in the courtroom as onlookers were not the same people standing outside with the witnesses. This case was about a murdered wife. The husband was being tried. The wife was found dead in the apartment with a bashed head. The witnesses for the case were the mother of the dead wife, an owner of a bar and also the neighbor of the wife and husband, the wife of the bar owner, and a friend of the wife and husband. The owner of the bar said that he walked into the apartment and saw the wife dead on the ground and the husband standing over here. The friend talked about the husband drinking all the time and out at the bar. The mother of the wife said the husband constantly beat his wife and was always drunk. The wife of the bar owner said a few words confirming what everyone else said. In the end, the wife of the bar owner confesses to be the mistress of the dead wife's husband. That particular day, she drugged the man because she didn't like having sex with him because he was bad in bed. After she slipped something into his drink and he was sleeping, in walks the wife. They have words and it ends in the mistress demanding money to stop seeing the married man and the wife refusing. The mistress gets mad and bashes the wife's head with a vase. She confesses it all in court. The prosecutor and defendant do not seem shocked and neither does anyone in the audience. They just all have blank stares. The guard does not run up to the killer and take her away. Instead, the prosecutor and defendant make their closing remarks and the show ends.
I think I have the details of this episode correct, as the Russian was translated into Romanian by my host mom.
During the show I attempted to make a joke saying "maybe the wife should have learned how to cook better." My host mom immediately replied, "No, the husband is a drunk." Apparently, my comment isn't funny. I laughed to myself. Moldovan humor is when someone falls down or unintentionally makes an idiot of themselves.
Oh, and my host mom was completely oblivious to the fakeness of the show. She just kept saying "God, what terrible people there are. I can't believe this, how could he do that? They have children, how awful? If he hit her, why didn't she leave?" I just had to shake my head and wonder how many other people believe this is 100% real.
Steph, one of my PCV friends said this to explain the country which we have made our home:
Moldovan is how America was 25 years ago, but they do things in a more obnoxious way.
I can't explain this, but after thinking about it, I totally agree.

Just a little picture of some of the glorious grapes they have here in Moldova. They taste EXACTLY like grape candy. YUM! 

Dieting and Muddy Roads in Moldova

The words depression and disability do not exist in the Moldovan language. If someone has either one of these (or heaven forbid both) it is dismissed as being caused by the wind, or by eating too much packaged foods. Likewise, I am almost certain the word diet cannot be found in their language. Dieting in Moldova is the second most hardest thing to do here, right behind teaching Moldovans about the harmlessness of the current.
Feeling my pants getting tighter and seeing my belly get flabber, I decided I would simply eat less and initiate my own diet. This did not go over so well with my host mother. For the entire day she kept asking me "Who is telling you you are fat?" You have to eat to be healthy. Yes, I agree. So I explain to her that I don't want to eat oil, butter, smantana (sour cream), mayonaise, cookies, and bread. She then tries to tell me that oil, butter, smantana, mayonaise, and bread are all natural and are good for your health. "Aliona eats all of these foods every day and she is skinny." "Yes, but Aliona is different than me, and I feel gross when I eat oil and these foods." "But it is good for your health and you must eat. You are not fat, if you get any skinnier you won't be pretty." "I don't want to be skinny skinny, I want to be skinnier, I have a belly." "You do not have a belly, I have a belly, you are skinny." "My pants are tighter." "I don't see it," she says as she reaches toward my waistband and tugs at my jeans. I happen to be wearing pants that were a little too big for me in America and so now they are fine. "Other pants, my other pants are too tight." "We I don't think you are fat and Inga says you are good." "Well, I am want to be skinnier." And that is how most of the conversations begin and end.
Today is no exception. As I walk out of the house with my cup of coffee, no bread and butter, no cookies, my host mom asks me why I didn't get something to eat. I tell her that I don't want any. "How can you not want any?!?!?!? You must eat." I begin my whole "I am going on a diet, I want to be skinnier." This time I use my brother's visit (sorry Matt) as an excuse, saying I want to be skinny for when he comes. I am hoping this will carry the message closer to home. The same dialogue unfolds as above. I leave to go to my room and she continues to work outside. After about ten minutes she enters my room and says "If you want to be skinny, here is what you do. In the morning you drink tea, only tea, without bread, cookies, nothing. Then around two or three you eat whatever you want. Felul unu and felul doi (first course and second course), but not a lot. At seven at night you drink sour milk. That is all, nothing more. I worked with a doctor in Chisinau and this is how they said to lose weight. If you want, of course. I will go buy sour milk from my neighbor." I agree and so the plan is set.
I am relieved she finally understands what I am trying to say and that I am going to be stubborn about it. Lets see if she follows through and doesn't try to lure me with extra food swimming in oil.
In other news, it has been raining my village, on and off, for the past three days. Now, if you know Moldova you know how incredibly muddy the roads get after it rains, making it impossible to travel anywhere without ten pounds of mud attaching itself to your shoes. Some smart person on my street decided it would be a good idea to have everyone pitch in money to purchase rocks, gravel, pebbles for the road. This makes it easier to walk on the road, and even drive, whatever the weather might be. Yesterday and Today I made it to school without having my shoes covered in mud. Although I was walking on the balls of my feet the entire way, I was able to make it to school and still look presentable. This is not to say that I didn't trip a few times. I have not mastered the graceful walking that other Moldovans instinctively know how to do. Even on the scariest of terrain, all Moldovan women can gracefully float across, even in 3 inch spiky heels, and make it out unharmed and spotlessly clean.

The Land of Holidays

Moldova: The Land of Holidays

Every week there is a holiday (sarbatoare mare) in Moldova. Today is a religious holiday, something to do with the Church. On holidays, there is to be no work done....riiight. Although today is a big holiday, there is still school. But...
Yesterday in one of my last classes, I had 11th graders. I was explaining to them that there was going to be a test on Friday. There was an uproar and they proceeded to tell me that they wouldn't be in class because they too would be picking apples in the fields with the 9th and 10th graders. I wasn't going to be fooled, I thought they were trying to get out of a test. I told them that I didn't believe them and I went to find out the truth. I asked the assistant director what was going on on Friday and she proceeded to tell me that the 9th 10th and 11th graders were, in fact, going to be with the apples. She pulled out her schedule and informed me that since I had 9th, 10th, and 11th grade classes on Friday, I didn't have to come to school. I was so happy! An unplanned holiday, weee!
Today is also Haram in Chisinau. Haram is the village/city holiday and every village/city has one. Our Haram is November 8th and I am excited. During this holiday (yes, yet another) families cook tons and tons of great Moldovan food, the best Moldovan food they cook the whole year. Then guests come over and visit, eat, and drink before moving onto the next house. Families and friends visit about eight houses that day, depending on who they know, and partake in the festivities. There is dancing, music, and singing in the center of town, and everyone has a great time. On that day, like all the other holidays, there is to be no work. During Haram, there is no school.
So today I set out to go to Ungheni and buy ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. One of my host sisters, Aliona, is leaving for Moscow on Monday and I want to send her off with some goodies. She is going to meet her husband and her father there to work for the remainder of the time until the end of December. My host dad and brother-in-law were only supposed to go there and work, but since there is work over there and a lot of money to be made, they begged Aliona to join them. So starting Saturday night, we are the proud caretakers of Loridana, the niece. Things should go well, since it will begin to get colder and people will stay inside more.
It is getting dark around 7pm and I don't like that. Last night I was dead tired and crawled into bed. I looked at my watch and it was only 8.30. Oh well, I was tired and went to bed anyway. Pretty soon it will be dark at 5pm and I definitely won't know what to do with myself.
Hope everyone is having a wonderful time!

What's Going on Man?!?!?

Everyday walking to school I think "this is going to be a great day of teaching." As I arrive at school, I am snapped back to the reality of the Moldovan school system. For the next four school days the 9th and 10th graders will be in a neighboring village picking apples. They don't get paid for this. I think they might get to keep some, I am not quite sure what the deal is. So I have to alter my daily and long term plans accordingly, which I am a little peeved about. I guess it is a little load off my shoulders, not having to teach them for four days. But, I finally had all the units down and when I wanted to teach them to the students, and now that is all out of whack. So, today instead of teaching 5 classes, I got a break and only had 4. That means more time to read.
I have read soooo many freakin books since being here. I shall try to name them all now:
The Good Earth
Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance
Hypocrite in a White Poufy Dress
Hi Fidelity
Twice Told Tales
Justice
Icy Sparks
Stolen Lives
July, July
Widow for One Year
Wicked
About 8 Newsweeks
and I can't remember the rest, but there has got to be about 5 others
I am down to one book left, and about two weeks until I can get a new group of them in Chisinau. Let's hope I don't get through this one as quickly.

Oh That Crazy English Language

To review for a test, one of my classes played Jeopardy. The easiest questions, worth 100 points, were various objects (fruits, vegetables, occupations) that one member of the team had to draw and the rest were to guess. So team 1 steps up and chooses a 100 point question. I hand the card with the object to the boy chosen to draw. He looks at it for a second and I ask him if he knows what it is, and he nods. So I give the team 30 seconds to guess and the boy begins to draw. At first everything is going good, he is drawing a person since he has to draw a certain occupation. Then things get weird and he starts to draw a car or some kind of motorized vehicle. I have no idea what he is drawing, it clearly isn't the occupation on the card. I am confused and so are he teammates. 30 seconds is up and I ask him what the occupation was. "Biker," he says as he shows me the card. On the card was written "baker." The class started laughing hilariously and I had to join in, I couldn't hold back. It was very funny and made me, once again, be thankful that English is my first language.

I Just Love this Picture

Bad Liquor! 
I found this picture and thought I would share it. It was taken while enjoying dinner with Peter's host family in Costesti. I was either trying to form a gramatically correct Romanian sentence or just downed some house wine/vodka. Either way, I was in pain.

Ice Cream Sundae Theory

Over the years (geesh, that makes me sound old), I have wrote or thought about several of my own personal theories. I will post them once I put them down in writing and edit them to my standards (which are rather low so it shouldn't take long). I hope you enjoy them and maybe you can share some of your own theories!
The Ice Cream Sundae Theory

Being in love, or a relationship, is like an enormous ice cream sundae. It is 10 different flavors of ice cream, all of your favorites of course, piled high and covered with whipped creaming, caramel sauce, chocolate syrup, and my personal favorite, colored sprinkles. You always crave the sugary goodness of this delectable treat, but refrain from it from time to time for various reasons. You might be on a diet, out of money, or simply don't want it. Whatever the reason, packed away in the back of your mind, you always crave that huge ice cream sundae. In that large glass bowl contains everything you have ever wanted since you were a child. Just one spoonful with the perfect balance of all the topics is all you need to launch yourself into the clouds.
Occasionally, you allow yourself to indulge in an ice cream sundae, because you deserve it. You are an amazingly great person and why should you be denied a sundae while others gorge themselves on it every day? So, one fateful day, you decide to have one of your very own. You stroll up to the counter and tell the person behind it "Hey, I want one of those. I want to know how it feels to have it all, all the flavors, the whipped cream, and even those colored sprinkles! It is what I have always wanted, so give it all to me!"
You tear into the sundae and are elated by the rush of sugar to your head. Even the brain freezes are welcome because it is magnificent to finally be holding a sundae in your own hands. You can see its beautiful form, you can feel smell the drizzles of sauce, and you can feel the coldness as it hits your tongue. Your eyes may have been bigger than your stomach but you are determined to persevere and make it till the very end.
At last you have made it to the end! You have successfully mastered the sundae and are happy about with your triumph. But oh, how your stomach aches! The large amount of ice cream that resides in you begins to revolt. The cramps are painful as all the ice cream, syrup, whipped cream, and those darn sprinkles call out to you as memories of your feast. You begin to think that the frozen treat was not such a good idea as you race to the bathroom. You spend day after day clinging to a round cold toilet while you relive every moment you had with your past lover. Now you are wondering if you really should have had all 10 flavors, caramel sauce, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, AND sprinkles. They seemed like a good choice before, but now they seem rather toxic. You wanted to taste and know what they felt like, but you begin to question if it was worth the pain you are now in? The feeling you had with the sundae was greater than words can describe, but now, death would be a relief for the pain you are in.
After recuperating from the painful cramps, gaseousness, nausea, heartache, and overall torment, you begin to feel a little relief. It took a long time to get strong from your treat and you seem to be stronger than before. You promise yourself that you won't make the same mistake again. But oh, you still crave that damn sundae. You long for the whipped cream, syrup, and sprinkles, as your stomach warns you and you are still sore from the purging of emotions. Your body remembers the pain and torment as you forced it to welcome all of the ice cream sundae.
In the end, you still want that sundae. Every time you walk by ice cream your mouth begins to water and you only remember the good things, forgetting the aftermath you suffered. You keep telling yourself that you can not possibly have another ice cream sundae again after the havoc it wrecked, and that you will only spend time in anguish and on the toilet. After several personal debates, weighing the pros and cons, you inevitably reach for that huge sundae when given the opportunity. Sprinkles and all, knowing you may have to make a dash for the bathroom or the pink stuff...cause

Corrupting the Youngins

I just love teaching little kids words. The more inappropriate, the better. My family in America can attest to this. I don't think my sister or brother-in-law were too pleased when I taught my niece to say "oh, sit!" when telling someone to sit down. Little toddler's pronunciations are so quirky, I thought I would seize the opportunity and teach her a hilarious trick. I have now started to corrupt my niece (host niece) here.
It all started over mamaliga. I began teaching her hello and goodbye. She catches on amazingly fast, but can't seem to stop saying "la revedere" immediately after saying goodbye. I thought that if I were to say "goodbye, la revedere" she would make the connection, but now she can't let go of the Romanian equivalent. I think it is rather cute when I come home and she says "buna ziua!" and I immediately reply "hello" causing her to echo it back. Likewise with goodbye. I started introducing her to other phrases, such as "what is your name." I said it once to her and she immediately said it back, perfectly. It was so perfect I suspected someone had already taught her that, but I am the first. It is crazy how fast small children (two years old) pick up bits of information and have no problem remembering them.
So I have taken it as my mission to teach my niece here English. It is amazing that at two years of age, she can already speak three languages, Romanian, Russian, and now English. Although she only knows two words now, she is already way ahead of children in America who are lucky to know two languages in their entire life, let alone master two at the age of two.
Sixth period rolls around today and I have no students in my class. During the break, a group of fourth or fifth graders takes my room hostage. Apparently they are supposed to have class in the room. My two classes of 11th graders, which I am supposed to teach for sixth and seventh period are on an excursion to visit monestaries. I love how I am so completely well informed on things around here. Luckily for me, I just go with the breeze. Who would have thought I would pick up this characteristic?!?!? Anyhow, I had a room full of youngins and they all circled me in the front of the room. Of course, they began to ask me simple questions, "how old are you?" "where are you from?" "are you married?" "where do you live?" It was nice to have that much undivided attention, I certainly don't get it in my classes, and I forgot how that felt. These children were thoroughly entertained by me and kept throwing question after question at me. Strangely enough I understand all that they said. Maybe it is because I am almost on the same Romanian level as they are, even though I am a little behind them. My fellow teacher was enjoying the moment by hanging up a picture of a saint in a corner of the room with her free time. After about twenty minutes of interrogation I decided to pack it up and go home. The other teacher was mighty impressed and told me that I did a good job with the children. It was a breeze and brightened my mood. I get to corrupt/enrich little tikes all around me, what's not to love?

Flowers, Cognac and Moldovan Dance

No, this isn't the title of a sleezy romance book. Although I have been reading many books, fortunately I have not stumbled across one with such a title.
These are the things that made up my first Teachers' Day in Moldova.
I was told by a fellow teacher to arrive this morning around 8.15 and to use the front gate. As I turn the corner and get my first glimpse at the school a smile sweeps across my face. I see crowds of chilren forming two lines inside the gates. Their arms are filled with flowers as they search for the next approaching teacher. Their next victim was me. Walking through the line of students clapping and throwing flower petals at me made me feel very appreciated and welcomed. Someone may have forced them to wait for all the teachers and create the big production, but I enjoyed it nonetheless.
Because I came to school at 8.15 and my classes didn't start until 1, I had more time than I cared to have to kill. It seems that waiting/resting is a running theme here. With your "free time" waiting you should always be with others and not doing work. I seem to always break those rules. Back to the day.
While hanging out with a fellow teacher (actually we just happened to be doing work *gasp* in the same room) students kept peering in and giving us flowers and presents. During the breaks and even during actual classes, students venture outside the classroom to track down the teachers they have flowers/presents for. My count for the day: 3 roses, 1 carnation, and a small vase. Not too shabby eh?
By the third period the teachers' break room was filled with 12 liters of soda, a box full of bottles of champagne, cognac, house grape juice, and 2 large cakes. The assistant principal offered me a concoction of instant coffee and pineapple soda (because there wasn't water available in the room) and apprehensively I took it. The concoction was not too bad, but I won't be rushing home to make my own anytime soon. It kind of reminding me of a mocha stout, and that scares me. During the next break the teachers gathered and partook in the celebration. I had cake and champagne, but stopped short of the cognac. I decided it wasn't good to begin drinking the hard stuff at 10 in the morning. After the break, I surveyed the situation, and after deciding no other events were to occur, I went home for a nap.
I arrived back at school for my 2 lessons of the day. I timed it so I would have about 45 minutes before my classes began. Once again, I was wrong. Everyday classes start at different times, and today mine were starting just as I arrived to school. I got to my class and there was a 12th grade English student sitting at my desk. Everyone failed to explain to me that on Teachers' Day students (usually the 12th graders) teach our classes for us. How they know what to teach and what they do with the students I don't know. I decided I could handle teaching the 2 lessons I had that day and let my student teacher write the exercises on the board. I had two classes, back-to-back with my 9th grade class. Or so I thought. Classes are 45 minutes long, but today they were 30 minutes. After the bell rang, announcing the end of the first class my students informed me that there would be no second class (7th period). Why? I don't know, maybe because it was teacher day. I proceeded to tell them ok and that I never know what is going on, and let them go home without homework. I was feeling generous.
So class ended at 1.30 and I was informed there would be a huge masa for the teachers' at 2.00 or 2.30. I sat around till 2.30 and then was told it would be 3. Ugh. So the hours I spent "hanging around" at school today total to about 5. Gotta love it.
The masa was great. I must say, Moldovans really do know how to celebrate. Here is the rundown: tomatoes, cheese, pickled tomatoes, slices of meat, slices of canned fish, pickles, placinta, cookies, cake, crepes, sarmale, potatoes in sauce, tomato juice, peach juice, flavored vodka, soda, champagne, cognac, bread, and an egg salad. Phew, it was a lot. Here in Moldova, when you don't have to use a plate, you don't. And especially when there is tons of food, there are no room for plates. So at this masa everyone was equipped with a fork and just dabbed it in whatever they wanted. You are probably thinking this is not sanitary and you are probably right. But people here simply touch their fork to one item and don't spread their germs into the entire bowl by swirling there contaminated fork in it. I didn't mind at all and rather enjoy it. It means that many less plates to wash in the end.
After we stuffed ourselves it was time to dance. I must say, it was a first for me. Dancing with 50+ year olds, that is. It was a lot of fun though. They just all form a big circle and do their own dance. They pretty much do the middle school shuffle, which involves stepping side to side and flailing your arms in some fashion. But in this dance, you slowly move around the circle, it shifts. The director of my school was making her rounds with a bottle of vodka and a cup. The assistant director was right behind her with a plate of cake and a fork, to wash the liquor down with. It was very charming. Boy can my director do the jig. She was either drunk, or was simply in the mood to jump around and be friendly. She was really shaking it. I was impressed.
That pretty much sums up Teachers' Day for me. As I was leaving I grabbed an apple from the table (there were bowls of apples, I forgot to mention that). Two teachers jumped on me and grabbed all the apples and shoved them into my purse (my large green purse, so it fits a lot). They are all about taking home what you can. This day I brought home a lot more than apples. No, not TB (although...), the feeling that I belong in the group of teachers at my school.

Ura For Teachers' Day!

Teachers' Day is actually tomorrow, but I felt a little taste of it today. Classes during the first part of the day went as usual. At 2 o'clock (when it is 7th period) there was a concert featuring the 12th grade students. Much to my non-surprise, it was entirely in Russian. They started out with 2 emcees blurting out things, and it seemed to me that they were doing a really good job. But I couldn't tell what the heck they were saying, so can I really be the judge? For some reason or another they went into the audience and got commentary from some of the teachers. They came up to me and said something, shoving the microphone into my face. I was situated in rows of chairs in the audience, and there were only maybe 100 people there (including 30 teachers). I turned to the assistant principal with a "what the h*ll?" comment and she kindly translated it for me. They wanted to know what I thought about the children in the school. Thanks to my slow brain and slight inability to improvise I said something to the effect of "the children here are really good and they are hardworking. It is important because English is harder than other languages. The students have a lot of energy." Whether or not that fulfilled their question or maybe any sense, I don't know. But they smiled and somehow were ever so slightly content with my response.
After the "interview" session, they students performed skits which included some scene with a drunk or disobedient student (I couldn't tell), a song and dance where each student said a few lines and did a little jig and then a final song. I think it is the traditional Moldovan teacher song, but again, it was in Russian. They handed out flowers to all of the teachers and we went on our merry little way.
So, future boyfriends, listen up! I get tons of flowers, all the time! My vase in my room is only vacant about a week out of the month. People in the village give me flowers, students give me flowers, I pick flowers out of the garden in the back, I just have flowers. And these aren't roses, oh no sir. They are daisies and strange wildflowers, that are even better than roses. They smell great and are in tons of bright yellows, pinks, and purples. I love the flowers here. I love it even more that every occasion warrants a crap ton of flowers. Whenever you go to visit someone far away you bring flowers. When someone dies, you bring flowers. When someone has a birthday, you bring flowers. When someone comes home from a long time away, you bring flowers. When it is teachers' day, you bring flowers. When it is the first day of school, you bring flowers. When it is a holiday, you bring flowers. Before I get carpal tunnel, I think you get the point.
So after two years I will be used to getting wildflowers in huge bunches all the time. Start stocking up.

I Love Cokey Lite

Happiness tastes a lot like a cold bottle of fizzy coca-cola light.

I had a great time this weekend in Chisinau for the Language Weekend. I got to spend time with the other volunteers in my group and even spoke a little Romanian. The by-product of all this fun was a few important lessons about the Romanian language. Just to justify the trip.
Stepping into the Peace Corps office and seeing everyone after a 6 or so week hiatus felt a little strange. I felt like I was a past member of Real World/Road Rules and it was a reunion or even one of those cheesy but addicting Extreme Challenges. Don't worry, I am sure our group also contained a little of the same dynamics as those quirky paired up people on MTV.
I got to partake in my one and only desire, unobtainable in my village....Coca-cola light. It is not calorie free...oh no, it has 1 calorie. I suppose the ingredient that they use in America to make Diet Coke calorie less is not allowed in Europe so they have to replace it with something else that, gasp, contains a calorie. It tasted so good. Ah....that is all I can say. It was great and made any hell I had to go through during the weekend (which was none) worth it. I got to sit in the Peace Corps lounge and watch old episodes of Friends on VHS tapes. I got to see Rachel have her baby and then the terrible fiasco that happened after when Joey found Ross's ring and Rachel thought Joey was proposing to her and she stupidly accepted. Ahhhh, what a dumby needy broad! I was mad and yelled at the television.
Moving right along. Today was an excellent day. After our lesson myself and a few great volunteers headed to a restaurant and sat outside and had a really swell time. It is always nice to actually sit down and have conversations with other volunteers and share experiences and horror stories. Afterwards, Levi and I bought our tickets to get us back to our villages. He lives past my village (about 45 minutes) and so we road in the same bus. The bus was a greyhound type bus, but thank goodness, wasn't full. We headed to the piata centralla (a huge freakin piata! biggest in Moldova because, duh, its in the capital) where I bought pomegranates! I love them and was so excited to see them. I also bought a pair of long baby pink and magenta striped socks. They are soooo great! They go to above my knee and I can't wait to rock them out with a black skirt. Then my students will really think Americans are strange! On the way to the bus that would take us home I stopped by a cd kiosk. I had been looking everywhere (or at least whenever walking past a place that sold cds) for the 3 Sud Est cd. 3 Sud Est is a Moldovan (or Romanian, I don't remember which one) band that has really great songs. Most of the (alright, all of the) bands in Moldova and mostly in Romania are dancey pop bands, which is great, right? You really should check them out, they are fun! The song that go me hooked is just sooooo festive, it is called "cu capu-n nori." I think it translates into something like "with my head in the clouds." I am not quite sure yet. I will have to ask someone that speaks English.
The trip back to Pirlita didn't seem that long. By the time I read a Rolling Stone, cover to cover, I am in my village. That is what I did this trip, although I had time left over only because I chose not to read the articles over three pages.
So now I am back in my village, and somewhat at peace. I did miss my little place here and was like "I just want to go home and chill." Even if it meant sitting on a children's metal chair outside with my host mom, discussing life and watching the random person walking by on the rock and dirt covered road.

1 Month Down!

I am almost finished with the first month of school. It went by fairly fast and finally the schedule is about permanent. I now have 21 hours a week of classes. I get to sleep in most days, except for Thursdays and Fridays when I have class at 8.30 and 9.35. The other days I get to sleep in until my classes at 11.40 and 1.40. It is nice. But I have classes till 4.55 almost everyday. I am teaching a few "optional" classes. From my understanding, students sign up to take extra classes to learn more about things they are interested in (this interpretation could be, and probably is extremely off). Once they sign up for the class it is completely obligatory. I can teach whatever I want to them during this time. That is great to have students who want to learn and aren't so disruptive as the others. I mostly will review grammar that they have already learned, maybe play a few games, and teach them new vocabulary and a little more grammar. This has been my first week having regular classes and optional classes, so we will see how it goes. It could change dramatically, I just don't know.
The weather here has been nice this weekend. Last week was extremely chilly. I even broke out my space heater (PC provided) a few times. This week has been mid 70s with complete sunshine. At night, however, it gets a little chilly. I have been enjoying the weather. It is a nice change from the sweltering heat of the south.
My host dad has left for Moscow until the end of December. He is going there to work with my host brother-in-law. They go to Moscow to work for three months at a time and usually come home for a few weeks in between. I would venture to say that 80% of the men in my village are not here. They are gone, working in other countries. There isn't any work in Moldova, outside of Chisinau and a few other big cities. Most people here leave to find work in other countries and bring the money home for their families. It is sad that they can't all be together, and grow up with only one parent (if any) at a time. There isn't much work in Moldova, because there aren't any industries. The people here have fields of corn, chickens, pigs, cows, and don't have a need (yet) to build a centralized place to grow these things and then provide them for all the people. That way there would be jobs and would be more money circulating in Moldova. I think that is the main reason why Moldova is one of the poorest countries, because everyone flees here to work and does not stay around to fix the problem that is causing them to want to leave in the first place? It will be a long hard journey to build this country up. But it is possible and I think it will happen eventually. It just takes the right kind of people and spirit.
Anyway, I got off the subject. Since my host dad left it is just me and my host mom. I live in the little small house and she lives in the big one. We talk and hang out after school, during lunch and during dinner. We both just do our own thing. It is nice, and I enjoy having someone to talk to (even if it is in broken unrecognizable Romanian) and I think she enjoys having someone else here while her husband is away. She would normally be by herself during this time.
Ok, by 2 and a half hour school break is over and I have to return for my last three classes of the day!