"I Want to go Home" Ball 2006

The 12th graders' ball was last night. Compared to America, it is like a graduation and prom all rolled up into a never ending dance and food fest. The festivities go all night and in the morning the girls and boys watch the sunrise. I arrived at school and sat on the stage as diplomas were handed out. Students gave their teachers and the director flowers, and everyone clapped while the students climbed to the stage. After the ceremony, everyone piled into rutieras and headed to the restaurant. The restaurant, who's name escapes me, is set back in the woods and looks like a big cottage. The upstairs was set up with two long tables, one for the teachers/parents, and the other for the students. The tables were filled with salads, vegetables, meats and cheeses, various rolled fish, baked chicken, bread, water, soda, wine, vodka, cognac and champagne. Let the festivities begin! We begin our celebrating, I would say, at 11. After the food, there was dancing. Dancing, oh dancing, the hora. If I haven't explained before, the hora is, apparently, the national dance and consists of people joining hands and dancing in a circle using various footwork. We danced the hora and by the time 1 rolled around, I was ready to go home. The director snuck out earlier via a full car, so I could not make my escape. Every two hours the restaurant would roll out more food, flattened chicken, placentas, potatoes, crepes, and everyone gathered around the tables to eat and drink again. Myself and another teacher were in the same boat and sat staring out the window for most of the evening for signs of daylight.
Long story short, I got home at 5. I spent 3/4 of the time sitting in a chair wishing someone would offer me a ride home. The restaurant is about 3 miles away from Pirlita and most of the people arrived in the rutieras provided for the evening. That means, we were all stuck. I did not really realize this, as people said the day before and the day of, that I could leave early if I wanted to. LIARS! So I had to practice my patient skills (which before last night, were running thin). I had never felt so happy to ride in a rutiera. I climbed into my bed around 5.30 and slept until 1.

Great Music Video

Go to this link for Peter's blog and you will find a great music video that depicts my life in Moldova. I have no idea who the people are, but they sure know how to drink wine out of a big pickle jar.
http://www.bbqbacon.com/moldova/2006/06/buna-dimineata_09.html

Bees Are Not Our Friends

...although they make excellent honey.

I have started using the roof of the pig shed as my own personal beach. I climb up a homemade ladder, lay down a winter jacket and a towel, and begin the bronzing process. It has only been two days since I have started using this recently untapped resource, but I have no doubt I will soon be reaping the benefits.
Today, however, was an experience. I climbed up to my oasis and laid down to enjoy a bit of the summer sun. Fifteen minutes into it and something is buzzing around me and lands on my arm. I look over and see it is a bee. I forgot to mention that the neighbor grows bees and this morning they somehow got out and were swarming around our house. I heard about it during lunch but thought they were under control and all accounted for. Silly bees. The bee, upon noticing that I noticed it, proceeded to stick its big stinger into my arm. I swatted at the bee, which was now secured to my arm and finally detached it from my throbbing limb. In the process, I failed to remember that I unhooked the top part of my bikini top, to avoid a weird tan line. My boobs were flying around while I was busy combating the bee. Luckily, I was facing other gardens in the neighborhood and today was not a gardening day. Having contained my boobs, I heard more buzzing coming from my hair. Two bees secured themselves into my hair and were trapped. I was freaking out by this time and on my feet on top of the pig shed. I was screaming and throwing my head from side to side trying to dislodge the bees. My host mom and host grandmother were watching the process and were also swatting their only personal fan club of bees. My host mom was laughing at the situation, actually mostly me, and was asking me where my camera was because she thought it was worthy of a Kodak moment. Keep in mind I was in my bathing suit, flapping around about ten feet in the air. I was balancing myself on the not so straight roof, gathering up all my belongings, trying to put on my shoes, kill the bees AND shuffle down the ladder before anymore harm came to me. My host mom was laughing and telling me to kill them all while my host grandmother was thinking I was going to fall off the roof and be eaten alive by the bees. After the whole ordeal we all laughed despite our numerous stings. Now, I will use my bandana before going outside when the neighbor is having "problems" with his bees.

MORE NEW FOOD! Cherries! Yum. I have eaten 2 kilograms (approximately 4 pounds) of cherries in two days. My host mom can't eat a lot of them so I have enjoyed them all to myself. I wonder what my stomach will look like after this.  

NEW FOOD! We bought baby ducks yesterday at the piata! They are THE cutest thing and run around in a bunch. They drinks tons of water. My host mom and I like sitting near them, watching them, and chatting. Hey, it's better than television! 

Grilling with the Guys

Today was the last day of school. Our school had a ceremony, where teachers spoke and students gave their teachers presents and flowers. I received flowers and some coffee cups, that are really cool. After the ceremony the teachers had a barbeque, minus the red checkered tablecloth and being outside. Mainly, the guys grilled meat and brought it into the cafeteria and we had a masa. I went home to change out of my school clothes and into something more appropriate for the supposed picnic. When I got to school I noticed four of the male teachers grilling. I took a peak inside the school to see what was going on. The women were sitting around in the teacher's lounge, director's office and library, staring at each other and occassionaly engaging in conversation. Not a fun picnic for me. I headed outside to watch the men grill. They welcomed me and one of the teachers gave up his chair so I could have a prime viewing spot. Of course we had to test the meat, it was tasty. They marinated it for two days in vinegar, wine, beer, onions and bay leaves. It was really good. I taught them the word(s) "pre-game" and they quickly picked it up and used it while partaking in cognac and grilling. 3 pre-games later and they were asking about what happens after pre-game. I told them "you have pre-game, game, and (I guess) after game." They said "after the after game there is the feeding of the horse." I was a little confused until they explained that after you have a party or guests over, you have to go outside to feed the horse some oats or sugar, and you have some wine or other beverage for the horse. That is, if they arrive in a cart, if not...then I guess you have one for the car. So America, there are now four phases to the party; pre-game, game, after game, and one for the horse.