Where is Moldova, anyway?

… are good stains. It’s true I tell you. Upon arriving “home” today after a long day of team building with the PC and other volunteers in my group (more on that soon), I found my host mother, brother, and her sister and her sisters’ kids (she has 7 sisters and one brother) gathered in the front of our housing starting the process of making wine. Even thought I was tired from a day of playing in the woods, I clearly wanted to get in on that action. They were taking bags and bags (and bags) of grapes and squeezing them into these huge 5 foot tall barrels, that were about the width of two car tires. I asked my host brother if I could do the churning (this was a weird request, apparently, because he was all too happy to be relieved of that task) and he said that I could, but that I shouldn’t because I could get my clothes dirty). I quickly decided that this was well worth the stains. So, so long Ham-Trek shirt, as it got COVERED with grape splattering. But it is okay, it was a very interesting process. All of the grapes for the wine we started to make were grown in my front yard, in an arc overhanging the driveway, and in the fields down the street from our house. They were tended to and picked by myself and members of my host family. Then they were put through a churner, stems, skin and all, and smushed so that they are now sitting in a barrel of juice—and if my Romanian is correct, I think they said we will either have wine in four days, or have to do something else to the grape juice in five days? I guess I will have to let you know that when I find out myself, but I did catch part of a sentence that let me know that the weather has some effect on how long we have to wait for wine, or vin. Tomorrow we are going to my host mother’s sister’s house to pick her grapes. Apparently this will go on for about a week or so, as each household makes their own wine. I’m loving it though… and my host mother likes feeding me different types of grapes so that I could get the flavor. Also, my host mother and her sisters realized how much I love pears and walnuts (which grow all over the place here, and are all ripe for picking now) and they all pick up what they find as we walk through the fields… at the end they fill my pockets and call it “pay” for me working. It works for me. On a weirder note, I am trying to introduce them to “frozen grapes” but it is not working out that well. Every time I put a bowl of grapes in the freezer, my host brother laughs at me and takes them out. Or I sneak past him but then I find the next day my host mother has taken them out a few hours ago and they are already defrosted. This could go on for a while, but frozen grapes must prevail!

For the more serious and job-related stuff- So far we have been following a pretty rigid schedule for training. Four days a week we remain in our respective villages to have language classes, for four – five hours a day. Which may seem like a lot, but it is necessary to learn the language. (It has been slow and some what frustrating, however, I have learned more than I expected to in 2 weeks!) Then two days a week we travel into the regional center, Ialoveni, to do things as a larger group such as get immunizations, learn health procedures or technical skills. It is all very exciting and new, but the schedule is definitely starting to get to us—there is only so much Romanian you can learn before your head explodes (all of us who have had Spanish in the past keep lapsing into Spanish phrases and using Spanish verbs and prepositions… its funny because we understand each other, but our language teacher does not understand us)… It is a lot, especially a long with living in the midst of the same host culture-- sometimes you just need a break. And today was that break. All the trainees went to a park and had a feast of Moldovan food (fresh bread, chicken, pork, cheese, placenta, tomatoes with something that is similar to baba) for lunch, followed by some football, Frisbee and volley ball games—then we did team building, challenge course-ish items that older volunteers (people who have been in the Peace Corps in Moldova already for around a year) had prepared for us. It was particularly interesting for me because I realized that even if I had seen the elements before, and taught most of them, each group of people (school, camp, peace corps) brings new aspects to each element and completely transforms the whole experience. All in all it was a great day, and a great chance to get to know some other volunteers who are not in my small group. I will have to remember to thank the previous volunteers for putting on quite a great afternoon—having facilitated many of the same elements before, I know how much work went into the entirety of the event.

Also, a few catch up notes to people at home. I haven’t been able to send pictures yet or post any because the internet connection is way too slow. Am I adjusting to Moldova? I would have to say yes. At an alarming rate, too. I no longer am shocked, or even notice, when I have to halt my running to allow pigs/goat/chickens to waddle/walk/sprint across the road. My aim has definitely improved in the bathroom (peeing into a hole is trickier than it looks), and I have ventured on public transportation by myself. Also, I seem to be getting a long well and understating my host mother and brother. When we are out in the community or visiting friends, and someone says something to me in Romanian, either too fast or too complicated (like past “I have a dog. His name is Spot. Spot can run), I find myself turning to her for an explanation—usually visual, but still it is amazing to me because she doesn’t speak English at all. What have I not gotten used to yet? Speaking Romanian, clearly. Dressing up when I leave the house. “Showering” in a bucket (we boil water on the stove and then sponge ourselves—Everyone in the house is very skilled at this—while I make a huge mess). And the food—it is very good but very heavy (my host mother things vegetables are good for you no matter how they are cooked, boiled, baked, or fried with oil… oye). I am trying to balance trying new things with attempting to eat a balanced diet when I don’t know what is in each food. For example we eat Borsch (soup) all the time, I looked up the translation in English to see if we had such a thing in America, and it just said “sour soup.” Good job websters.

This entry was posted on Monday, October 02, 2006 at 2:18 PM.