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.