Where is Moldova, anyway?

… or not quite. That title was a definite exaggeration meant solely to get your attention, now for the real scoop.

Last week we were having one of the most gorgeous days, weather wise—perfect fall air, crisp leaves to walk on, blue sky, etc etc. I had been in Balti, the nearest city, to pick up a new water distiller that another volunteer had graciously brought with him to the city, thus saving me the long trip to Chisinau. I have been having problems with distillers lighting on fire or melting due to a combination of bad wiring / unreliable electrical current and sloppiness on my part – so I hope this one is a keeper because distillers are heavy!

Anyway, my fall day and joy of a new distiller were disrupted when someone stole my wallet! ARGH! In transport on the way back to my village someone took it! And along with it 700 lei which I had taken out of my bank account at the ATM in Balti to pay my host mother (believe me that is A LOT of Lei. People don't normally walk around with that much... ), and all of my documents (ATM Card, Green Card, PC ID!). Getting out of the transport I had had too many bags with me so I had to put what was in my hands down (I always travel with my wallet, phone and keys in my hands and not in my pockets/bags in order to keep better track of them) for one second. I turned my back to pick up the huge distiller bag out of the trunk (transport in Moldova is crowded and it is normal and obligatory to not keep all your bags with you in the transport) and when I looked back my wallet was gone (purse, phone and keys still there). Thinking that it had just fallen… I looked around for it and asked the other people. When they said no, the driver, who only spoke Russian, was getting fed up at the delay and just left.

When I double and triple checked that I hadn’t put it in my pockets or it hadn’t fallen on the floor I realized what had happened. What a huge problem… since, I am planning on going hiking in Romania in a few weeks for a little vacation, and I would not be allowed out of the country had I not had my green card (yes, Americans don’t need visas to enter, but without my green card, the border guards would have questioned the legality of my stay). So frustrating!

So I call the Peace Corps Security guy to report this crime, but first I call one of my friends in the village who I know knows a lot of the drivers—she promised me she would put pressure on them to look in their vehicles (I thought still that maybe I had dropped it somewhere—or maybe someone stole it and took the money but left the documents). Peace Corps told me to cancel my bank card and that I needed to get new documents, which wouldn’t be ready in time for my vacation—argh! Our Security Advisor also told me that he thought it was very “obraznic” or in English, “cheeky”—kind of like fresh for someone to steal from me in daylight, and from right in front of my face—it was 2pm! What a bummer and what a way to ruin a wonderful fall day!

But for some reason I put off canceling my bankcard, and talking to the woman at Peace Corps who needs to initiate the process of getting me replacement documents until the next day—I just had a feeling someone might find the documents and return it—or give it to the police or mayor—just the documents, and save me a lot of hassle—who wants my PC id anyway? Anyway I called my friend back, the one who knows many of our public transportation drivers, and she told me that none of them found it—and that she trusted them. Since I trust her, I gave up hope. My host mother took the opportunity to lecture me once again about not trusting the “Russians”.

But then, out of no where, the daughter of my Romanian tutor in my village calls me and tells me to go outside of my house. I said “why?” and she says, “my husband wants to meet you, he is coming in the truck” (they have a store and thus have a huge van). “But Why?” I asked again. She told me I she didn’t know—he just asked her to call me. And he said apparently that I “know what it is about.” WHAT?! At this point it is 9:30pm. And that request sounds sketchy even in the day time—come outside so I can talk to you! Sounds like a horror movie or some sort of gang drive-by shooting (side note: maybe I watch too much tv!) Anyway, my host mother thinking this was so strange decided to send my host aunt to come with me, to the corner of the street, to wait. Then after 5 minutes her husband shows up in his big van and hands me my wallet.

I ask him where he found it. He tells me that he took it “from a boy.” And then tells me to be more careful and to “grow up big”.

I walk home with my host aunt, she was in a state of shock and surprise. As was I, when we arrived home, and had a light, and for the first time I was able to see that all of my money—every cent (or in Romanian, every banut) was there! Every single one.

My tutor called me the next morning to make sure that nothing had been stolen. I confirmed that it hadn’t. She said that this man (my tutor’s daughter’s husband) owns a bar together with another man (I knew this already). And the other man, this man’s partner, saw someone (a boy) with my wallet in their bar—talking to his friend about taking it from an American. The partner guy then takes the wallet “from the boy” and gives it to this other guy, who returns it to me, and returns to me also the wonderful feeling of fall, of feeling like I am part of my community, and of being in the Peace Corps.

I guess I know people. How’s that for community integration?

This entry was posted on Monday, October 15, 2007 at 10:32 AM.