In the city 

Striking a pose! 

Matt I and some volunteers 

Matt and I at a restaurant in Chisinau 

Coming Home

I have yet to get a glimpse of a moment as enjoyable as seeing a father and mother reunited with their daughter. As my host mom, host niece and I awaited the arrival of my host father, brother-in-law, and sister after a 3 month stay working in Moscow, my host nieces energy mounted. My host mom anxiously stirred the coltunasi and I tried to downplay the energy rising from my host niece. I was sitting at the kitchen table, and as my niece inched toward me in a game she had been playing for the last 20 minutes, my eyes were fixed on the door. I was searching for a sign of the arrival of the rest of my family. The three parts that will once again return to the piece of my family puzzle here in Moldova. The light outside helped to illuminate any shadows or persons that were to appear in front of the door, allowing me to announce the arrival.
Finally, the moment arrived, and I was anxious for myself and for my host niece and mom. I wanted to see the family I had met fewer times than I desired, for my host niece to view her parents with aged eyes, for my host sister and brother-in-law to view their daughter as an older child, however devilish she had grown to be. For my host mom to gaze her eyes upon her husband. The same husband who rode on his bike, after viewing my mother a few times in the village, asking to visit her and later asking her to marry him...all in the course of about two days.
I did not expect to be as moved by the site of my host sister scooping my niece up in her arms, swinging her around, and showering her with kisses. It reminded me of how important a family is. The same emotion lingered with me as the rest of the family, host brother-in-law and father, entered the room. My brother-in-law had a grin plastered on his face that makes he think he had been practicing it for 3 months he has been away to finally present it to his daughter, for her approval. I have never seen a father more elated to see his daughter. I don't think I will ever see a site more wonderful as that, because I don't think a father can love his daughter and long for her as much as I have seen.
I was very moved to be invited in this entire welcoming. I was showered with kisses, and even presents...which I left in the other house...forgetting them after a few drinks and a resignation to my bed.
Being in this country and seeing the interaction among family has made me realize thee importance of the family. Family members in this country sacrifice their own happiness, health, and occupations, to support the people they love. They celebrate the time they are together, never taken for granted the time they have, but acknowledging it as a gift. They dream about times they will spend together in the future, and morn the loss of loved ones that have passed away.
I am glad my entire family will be together for New Years. I am anxious to have everyone in the same place, as I have forgotten how each one of us interacts with the rest. I am certain we will have a magnificent time.

Mr. Wizard's World

I think that is the name of the show on Nickelodeon back in the day. Well this Friday I felt like I was on that show, but maybe the adult version. I have packets of Crystal Light On the Go and was going to give them to the neighbor twins, who were having a birthday party Thursday night. My host mom didn't have anything to give to them and didn't want to spend money so I suggested the drink mix and some stickers. She was excited to check out the Crystal Light, and after tasting it said "We will keep these. Let's not give them to the girls. I have some vodka we can put these in." So Friday, after lunch, we whipped out the 2 2-liters of Vodka she bought from the guy in town that makes it. She had put just one packet of the Raspberry Ice in one and insisted that I taste it to see if it needed more. About 1.5 shots later we decided it needed two more packets, so we added them. Then, we decided to add Lemonade mix to the other 2-liter bottle. Of course, she insisted we tasted that vodka to make sure it didn't need some more mix. It was good...even though the fruitiness didn't cover up the toxicity of the vodka. She also concocted this cognac colored vodka by adding whole nuts to another bottle. The nuts taste a little like hazelnuts, but are much smaller. Apparently, the vodka eats at the nut inside the shell, so afterwards there is only a shell and nothing inside. Interesting, but it didn't really taste much different. I think my host mom and I need adult supervision sometimes.

I Can't Live Without Hair Dye

And thank goodness Moldova has it. Today I went to a hairstylist and got my hair did. I stopped on the way there to buy bleach blonde hair dye, a bright freakin' reddish orange color, and some tin foil. The woman that cuts hair also colors hair, but you have to bring your own hair dye. After talking to her she told me what bleach to buy and the other things she would need. I arrived at her place at ten AM. In the front of her house she has a salon-type room, with magazines, and a chair in front of an armoire/mirror combo. She got to work bleaching strands all over my head. I was a bit skeptical. After all, I had recently tried to bleach pieces of my hair and it did not turn out. She wrapped up each strand with foil, just like in America and we chit chatted about various things. We mostly talked about boys and how they all like women and want to have lots of them. How they only care about themselves, blah blah blah. Her experience has proved this theory, for she has been married three times. The last husband left for Moscow to work and has never returned. He has found a new girl and possibly started a family. She has tried calling and writing and after several attempts, has given up. I asked my host mom if the husbands that leave and start a family elsewhere ever manage to get a divorce from the first one. She said "why? they don't have to, they can marry all over again in a different place." Many many men in Moldova travel to other countries to work, find a woman, and never come home. My host mom can rattle off about ten men she knows of in our village that simply have never come home.
Anyway, back to hair dye. I had to wait 45 minutes for the bleach to do its thing. While I was waiting I watched a British movie dubbed over in Russian, called Match. It was pretty funny. I finally got to pet dogs, after a long time. The hairstylist has three small dogs that she only keeps inside, except to do number 1 or 2 of course. They are well groomed, adorable, and well behaved. One immediately fell in love with me, who can resist, and clung to my side. It was quite nice to interact with a dog in this way, instead of walking past it or telling it to shut up. We drank some coffee, and then it was time to rinse.
Then she put in the reddish orange highlights, taking small pieces of blond hair from each blond strand. Again I waited and then rinsed. She decided she was going to make my hair pretty for school tomorrow. So she put in rollers and then stuck me under the hair dryer. Yes, she even had one of those round things you stick your head under to dry your hair. So I sat under that for 45 minutes while attempting to read Russian beauty magazines. I did manage to pick out quite a few words, and practiced reading Russian, even though I don't know if it was correct.
So now I have some killer highlights in my hair and my hair is up to my chin and curly. I wasn't crazy about the curls, as they looked like some kind of crazy helmet. But with time they will fall down a bit. I hope. I really like my hair and the stylist said that women in Moldova do not think to color their hair two colors at a time like I did, in highlights. She really loved the colors in my hair and hopefully she will spread the new knowledge of highlights.

Pentru Tine, Pentru Tine...

I sat down to a plateful of mamaliga and began talking to my host mom about her day. She said she had seen a program about a person weighing 200 kilograms (= approximately 440 pounds) and how they had to push her through a window to get her to the hospital. What was really great about it, was that she said "I knew it was in America, because they lady was talking and she said 'I love you' and I know that, that is te iubesc, and I know that." I was so proud. My host mom and host niece are learning more and more words with each passing week. My host niece can already say "hello, goodbye, goodnight, I love you, yes, no, please, and Merry Christmas." When I begin singing "Jingle Bells" she chimes right in clapping her hands and singing "Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells!" I even taught her a song in Romanian, Pentru Tine (For You) and she sings that around the house. When you tell her to sing she begins to sing Pentru Tine. She is very smart and picks up on words you say, and yes she can be cute at times. She likes to run up to me, hugging my torso and saying "you love me?" I of course say "yes, I love you, do you love me?" To that, she replies "of course." It is quite nice and almost works as a stand in for my wonderful niece in America...almost.
I am going to get my hair dyed tomorrow. I have dyed my hair dark brown twice, and even tried to highlight it a light caramel...not turning totally out. I called up one of my students’ mom to ask her if she could help me out. She is a hairstylist, and works out of her home. So after lunch today I walked to her house to figure out just what we would do. We flipped through hairstylist magazines and discussed the sad saga that is my hair. So the plan is to highlight my hair, first with bleach...to make it golden. Then color the highlights a bright red. The end result is I will have golden an bright red highlights. It sounds very strange I understand, but I am completely stoked. I am happy that I am in a country where this hair color combination is absolutely gorgeous, hahahaha. Women’s hair here ranges from natural to every shade of red, purple, pink, and orange. Don’t worry, I won’t be going back to pink just quite yet.

Give Me Your Voice...No Really, Cause I Can't Find Mine

I thought leaving South Georgia meant not having to deal with brutal allergies and the twice a year losing of my voice. Oh no friend, this is just not so. This past Friday and Saturday I had nasty achy phlegmy throat sickness. This did not keep me from classes nor the piata on Sunday. The sickness passed rather quickly, thanks to the nice drugs they pack into our medical supply kits. It was not until today, while in the middle of a lesson, that my voice decided to plan a vacation. I still had enough power to finish out everything and even travel to the store to buy some toilet paper and cappuccino packets. When I got home I complained to my host mom about the situation and halfway through, my voice picked up its bags and headed off, probably in the direction of Bali.
I spent about three minutes trying to persuade some noise out of my throat to call Stephanie to discuss this weekend’s trip to Chisinau. Trying to speak in Romanian with a barely audible husky male-like voice was quite interesting, and I can only imagine what her host family was thinking. Nothing is more frustrating than sounded like a burly lumberjack with only half of the words in each sentence being understandable. Stephanie was a trouper and tried to muffle her laughter as best she could.
Tomorrow I have five lessons and I do not know how I will get through them if my voice decides to prolong its trip. My students will have a fun time doing whatever they please, knowing I can’t yell at them. If I feel like I cannot make it through a lesson without a voice, I can try to consolidate my class with the same classes my counterpart has, if they are at the same time. Ugh, the things I have to deal with. :) The least my voice could do is send me a postcard. Ooooh, or maybe it will bring me back a souvenir, like one of those snow globes with the name of the destination inscribed on it! Too bad I couldn’t go. *sigh*

I Love You I Hate You

That is how I feel sometimes about this country. My 11th grade class was so kind to tell me about the sessions they are going to have this Friday, next Tuesday and next Friday. That means they will be occupied all three days in their sessions, which are like exams but not quite...I don't really care. Not only are the 11th graders having these sessions, but also the 10th and 12th grades. So for those three days, they will not be in their normal classes. I was thinking, "Right on! I hope I have a few free classes this Friday and next week!" So when class ends I meet up with my counterpart to ask her if, in fact, there were going to be sessions and how it affected me. Yep, my students were correct. My counterparts response, "if you have classes with 10th, 11th, or 12th grades on those three days, you won't have them." This is looking better. I sit down, open my schedule, and see that on Tuesdays and Fridays I have nothing but 10th, 11th, and 12th grade classes. My wish came true. So I have this Friday, next Tuesday and next Friday off completely. I am excited about these unexpected three days, and walk up the stairs to my next class thinking, "I love this place."
Heh, that thought didn't last that long. I step into my classroom for my two classes with 10th graders to see only one student looking at me. "Where are the rest?" "Wait, maybe they will come." That is always the response. I can't wait. Not when class starts at 3 o'clock and it is now five past. I walk around the school, looking out the windows, trying to find my students. I am used to this happening during the optional classes I have after regular school hours. But apparently the students HAVE to come, even though they are called OPTIONAL classes. Go figure, right? I run into the Vice Director and tell her my situation, asking her what I should do about having only one student in my class. I was hoping she would be a little pissed and tell me to go home since, obviously, it would be a waste of both mine and the student's time to make a lesson. Her response, "just wait...take a break...rest..." Damnit! I tell her "I can't wait, this is my class, it starts at 3, not when the students decide to show up." I don't want to rest! That is always the response here when something happens or is running behind. "Just sit down, put your feet up, rest a bit, take a break." I wake up, get ready, walk to school, get there, and someone will say "just take a rest." I just woke up!!! That is just crap...I don't come to work to take a break and to rest. I shouldn't have to wait on my students to show up to begin a lesson. The students should be waiting on me!!! My host mom shares the same opinion and we often talk about the crappy students in schools these days. But anyway...one more student shows up and so I conduct a lesson with two students, instead of the normal 12 or so. Sometimes I hate this place.

Surprise, Surprise

Friday I thought would be like any other day. I was right, in the fact that it was a day, but it wasn't like the others. In general, I think it is impossible to say that everyday is like another. I mean you can physically say "this day is like all the rest" but then you'd be wrong. So let me rephrase my first statement, I thought today would go by smoothly and similar to other Fridays I have experienced here in Moldova. Having said that, I can now proceed.
I got to school with time to spare before my first class started, so I made my way to teacher's room to "hang out" with my colleagues. As I was sitting there, the director of the school approached me and said "I am going to observe your class today. Ok pumpkin?" Now, I know she didn't actually say the word pumpkin because I didn't hear "bostan" in the sentence but I assume it was something similar, but the way she petted my head afterwards. So we headed up to my class, and I was beginning to panic a little. I must admit that I dislike my 11th grade class, who think they already know enough and that I am not someone they need to respect. Oh the teenage years. I am glad I didn't exhibit any of that immature attitude. To make matters more stressful, I had not prepared a lesson plan for this particular class, only a very general outline of what I wanted to accomplish. I wasn't expecting my class to have purchased the textbook from the library and to have their homework completed, despite my screaming every lecture for the past two months. So when the director walked in behind me before class began all the students ran to the library to purchase the book. So that is what it takes? A few of the students ran to my desk and said in a low voice "can we just do the same thing we did on Tuesday, and act like it is the first time?" I mean really, the length these kids go to to seem like perfect students on the surface for one 45 minute class. They begged me to tell them what we would be doing in class so they could get a head start and fool the director into thinking they actually know English. I think their other teachers fall into this trap and either repeat a previous lesson or alter plans to make the students look like they know entirely more than they actually do. Not only does it make the students look smart and like good students, it also makes the teacher look like the teacher of the year. I however do not care about winning the teacher of the year award and would rather my students suffer and shrivel under the bright investigation lights of the director.
My class went along very strange. The students did not utter a single word to each other the whole time, like they usually do...nonstop. Instead, when I would explain something or tell them to turn to a particular page, they would answer with “yes,” every time. Half the class would raise their hands to volunteer to answer every exercise. They were the most well mannered students I have yet to have in Moldova. This was a complete 180 from their normal behavior. So class flew by, and my makeshift lesson, improvising as I went along and following a loose plan, ended with a pop quiz. I thought, “hey, while they are cooperating, I am going to take this opportunity to give them a quiz where they won’t be as likely to copy from each other and talk during the whole process.” Plus, I wanted to get back a little at them for being little shits the rest of the time. Is that wrong of me? I think not.
After class I made a point of visiting the director’s office to see what she had to say about my lesson. She had many good things to say to me, about how the students pay attention, they understand me, I explain things well, and I give them a variety of activities. She had a few suggestions, such as different things to do while working in groups or pairs, and how to better use my time with the text. So, it was a good learning experience and I am glad the director came to observe one of my classes, although I was a little stressed before class began. Hopefully all will go well when my program manager from Peace Corps comes to my classes on Monday to observe me. I prepared my students by telling them my boss from Peace Corps was coming and that they all had to be in class, and had to be good, and do their work, and that I had to be great. If I did not do a great job and they were not good I would be shipped back to America. They were a little upset by this, but I think it drove the point home.

Apropo, in a previous weblog I said that December 8th would be the 6 month marker of me being here. Emily sent me a comment telling me it was not December 8th. I am aware of this fact, as my host mom and I are constantly looking at the calendar in the kitchen, counting down the days till our loved one(s) arrive! I was merely providing a specific date. :)

Surprise, Surprise

Friday I thought would be like any other day. I was right, in the fact that it was a day, but it wasn't like the others. In general, I think it is impossible to say that everyday is like another. I mean you can physically say "this day is like all the rest" but then you'd be wrong. So let me rephrase my first statement, I thought today would go by smoothly and similar to other Fridays I have experienced here in Moldova. Having said that, I can now proceed.
I got to school with time to spare before my first class started, so I made my way to teacher's room to "hang out" with my colleagues. As I was sitting there, the director of the school approached me and said "I am going to observe your class today. Ok pumpkin?" Now, I know she didn't actually say the word pumpkin because I didn't hear "bostan" in the sentence but I assume it was something similar, but the way she petted my head afterwards. So we headed up to my class, and I was beginning to panic a little. I must admit that I dislike my 11th grade class, who think they already know enough and that I am not someone they need to respect. Oh the teenage years. I am glad I didn't exhibit any of that immature attitude. To make matters more stressful, I had not prepared a lesson plan for this particular class, only a very general outline of what I wanted to accomplish. I wasn't expecting my class to have purchased the textbook from the library and to have their homework completed, despite my screaming every lecture for the past two months. So when the director walked in behind me before class began all the students ran to the library to purchase the book. So that is what it takes? A few of the students ran to my desk and said in a low voice "can we just do the same thing we did on Tuesday, and act like it is the first time?" I mean really, the length these kids go to to seem like perfect students on the surface for one 45 minute class. They begged me to tell them what we would be doing in class so they could get a head start and fool the director into thinking they actually know English. I think their other teachers fall into this trap and either repeat a previous lesson or alter plans to make the students look like they know entirely more than they actually do. Not only does it make the students look smart and like good students, it also makes the teacher look like the teacher of the year. I however do not care about winning the teacher of the year award and would rather my students suffer and shrivel under the bright investigation lights of the director.
My class went along very strange. The students did not utter a single word to each other the whole time, like they usually do...nonstop. Instead, when I would explain something or tell them to turn to a particular page, they would answer with “yes,” every time. Half the class would raise their hands to volunteer to answer every exercise. They were the most well mannered students I have yet to have in Moldova. This was a complete 180 from their normal behavior. So class flew by, and my makeshift lesson, improvising as I went along and following a loose plan, ended with a pop quiz. I thought, “hey, while they are cooperating, I am going to take this opportunity to give them a quiz where they won’t be as likely to copy from each other and talk during the whole process.” Plus, I wanted to get back a little at them for being little shits the rest of the time. Is that wrong of me? I think not.
After class I made a point of visiting the director’s office to see what she had to say about my lesson. She had many good things to say to me, about how the students pay attention, they understand me, I explain things well, and I give them a variety of activities. She had a few suggestions, such as different things to do while working in groups or pairs, and how to better use my time with the text. So, it was a good learning experience and I am glad the director came to observe one of my classes, although I was a little stressed before class began. Hopefully all will go well when my program manager from Peace Corps comes to my classes on Monday to observe me. I prepared my students by telling them my boss from Peace Corps was coming and that they all had to be in class, and had to be good, and do their work, and that I had to be great. If I did not do a great job and they were not good I would be shipped back to America. They were a little upset by this, but I think it drove the point home.

Apropo, in a previous weblog I said that December 8th would be the 6 month marker of me being here. Emily sent me a comment telling me it was not December 8th. I am aware of this fact, as my host mom and I are constantly looking at the calendar in the kitchen, counting down the days till our loved one(s) arrive! I was merely providing a specific date. :)

It's December and I have a project

I can't believe December 8th (I believe) is the 6th month point. This time has gone by so incredibly fast. It is good, but it makes me worry about what I have actually accomplished. I haven't done much outside of school. I have tutored three girls after school when I have the time. I am starting an Odyssey of the Mind team at my school to compete in February. I am excited about this, since I liked competing in OM when I was in school back in the day. I picked four students from my 9th grade class that can speak English very well...or at least well. My counterpart and the other English teacher are going to look through there 9-12 grade students and see if they have good students who would be interested in participating in the competition. I have to create a group of 5-7 students. The competition is all in English and teams from all over Moldova will compete, with the winner's going to Poland for the International Odyssey of the Mind competition, I believe in March or April. My students seemed really excited about the opportunity to use their English and the possibility of winning and going International. It is going to be challenging to teach them to think in a different way, and to come up with creative ideas to solve problems. It will be challenging using English and my level of Romanian to explain how to accomplish everything and to get them to open up closed parts of their minds in order to arrive at different solutions. I am going to try to plan a bake sale to raise money for the registration fee and to pay for the supplies we will need to build our long term project. We need to raise around 160 lei for the registration fee (which is $12) and as most as we can to pay for our supplies. I could pay the registration myself, but then it wouldn't be a team project and I want the students to have ownership in this project. I also want to get my counterpart, the other English teacher, and other teachers involve in this activity so they will be able to carry it on when I leave. It isn't only important to create projects in your community, but also to set them up to have sustainability. So they can continue when you are gone. That whole "give a man to fish, teach a man to fish" thing. I am excited about this project, which will make time go by even faster than it already has, and will help fill time. I am slowing getting over my laziness which I have been plagued with since getting to my village in mid-August. Let's see if I can make some more things happen.

Mud Pies

Mud in Moldova is different than American mud. The mud here is squishier, clumpier, and just plain sicker than any mud I have encountered in America. After a day of raining or a week's worth of melted snow the roads become gushy and hazardous. Walking to school every day takes twice as long when the roads are muddy. Sure, my road may be one of the best in the neighborhood, but that doesn't mean it is easy to walk. If the road in front of my house is the best in the neighborhood as far as having the least amount of mud, I would like to see how people travel the other roads. This mud is the kind that squishes under your shoes and gushes up the sides of them. Sometimes, if I am lucky, the mud and my shoes create a suction with each other, causing much noise and resistance.
I have tried many ways to keep my shoes from being covered in mud when I finally reach the schoolhouse, but nothing seems to work. Walking on the balls of my feet only makes me look weird and does not decrease the amount of mud stuck to my shoes. Walking on the heels of my shoes just digs my feet deeper into the mud, which I would guess is about an inch think. And trying to look graceful while walking down the muddy roads is as impossible as walking into a Target store and not buying anything.
The mud here is slippery and you are never sure if your next step will end up with you on the ground. On a good day, I would venture to say that I slip, and come inches from falling over, oh about four times in the five minutes it takes me to reach the school. Not good odds. It doesn't help to know that the mud isn't composed only of dirt, you would be naive to believe that. All the cows, ducks, chickens, and dogs you see roaming the streets are always leaving little deposits on the road. One can only imagine what they are stepping into when everything mixes together and forms mud after a nice rain. Sidewalks? Not on my road. Only the main "drag" in town has a sidewalk, and even then it is a bit spotty.
So I get to school with my shoes covered in mud. The mud is about an inch up the sides of my shoes and sticking out about half an inch around my shoes. There is a big iron bucket and soiled rags outside to wash your shoes off, but I don't even try. I just stomp my feet as hard as I can and when I reach the door I try, to the best of my ability, to smear as much mud as I can off my shoes and onto the jacket that is used as a doormat, in front of the door. I realize that this isn't very "frumos" and I am probably sending a bad signal to others who see my dirty shoes and take it as an insult that I do not respect them enough to look nice and clean my shoes for them, but until the roads are paved with pavement or it doesn't ever rain, that is the way it is going to be. I don't see either of those options EVER happening here. So...muddy shoes it is.

WANTED!!! *Tooth Whitening Stuff. The only beverages I drink here are tea and
coffee, so you can imagine how my teeth are starting to look and
how they will look after two years of it. So please, for the sake
of this country and yours....send me some.
*Baby Wipes. My one bath of week stipulates that on some of the off
days I have a mini bath consisting of baby wipes. You don't want
to smell me all the way over there do you?
*Marshmallows. Now that it is cold here, I build a fire each night
in my little casa mica. Think how much better my nights would be
if I could roast marshmallows over my fire and make smores...I can
get the other supplies, but marshmallows...not in Moldova.
*Dry Erase Markers. I finally got tired of breaking out the bucket
of water to mop the chalkboard in the middle of every one of my
classes. I have made a whiteboard from paper and tape and found
that to be a lot easier and a better use of my time. I have
markers, but like all markers, they will soon be gone. The dry
erase markers here are not of good quality and only America can
make the top notch dry erase markers that I crave.
*Reese's Mini Cups. Enough said.