Guest Post - "Moldova, A Country Like No Other"
Since I have been in Moldova, besides random couchsurfers, the only "foreign" visitors I have had (as in not other Peace Corps Volunteers), have been my Aunt Maryanne and Uncle Curt. Since I have been writing on this blog for two years, and my opinions have been influenced by my accumulated time here, I thought it might be interesting to allow them the chance to post about their impressions on their short time (5 days) in Moldova. Perhaps it can give a fresh perspective to this blog. They were here in the end of August.
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Arrival
Our Arrival Arriving in Moldova was full of challenges. Leaving from Odessa, in the Ukraine, we were to fly into Chisinau. When we arrived at the airport in Odessa to catch our flight, the Russian airlines, Aerosvit, informed us that there were no flights to Chisinau. What??? We have paid and confirmed tickets for our flight. Not to worry, we were told, we have a van and driver to take you to Chisinau. So we were directed to a gentleman, who had documentation from the airlines (thank goodness) and a small car of unknown make. Through a translator, we were ensured that this was the correct arrangements and that he would get us to Chisinau safely. I asked the translator, If we would be making any pit stops along our 3 hour journey. Our driver, we never did get his name, just rolled his eyes in disgust. How could I could ever think of inconveniencing him. Our thrill ride through the country was harrowing, extremely narrow roads, extremely bumpy roads, extremely reckless drivers and unheard of speeds under these conditions. Since there were no white lines indicating passing zones, vehicles hurled themselves head on without any thought to the two Americans who were praying out loud in the back seat. Oh, how I wished for an OS handle.
We arrived at the border of the Ukraine and Moldova. The driver cut in line. I don't know what he was thinking. He only succeeded to make the border guards and custom inspectors very angry. Curt and I slid further down in our seats to become as inconspicuous as possible. The welcoming committee looked like jack booted thugs carrying billy clubs and who knows what else. After taking our passports, they returned to check the car and trunk not once but three times. Each time by a different and more ferocious looking fellow. The most ferocious one looked us over very carefully, had me remove my sunglasses and then had a heated conversation with his pals. I guess they don't get many Americans crossing at this border. Our driver never said a word to anyone.
Starting our journey into Moldova, we passed lush fields and rolling hills. The highway was lined with large beautiful trees. Under the trees were farm women , peasants actually, dressed in head scarves and with aprons over their long skirts, not a single bright color did they wear. They were hitting the trees with long sticks that reached up to the highest branches. We drove for many miles before we saw children of all ages under the trees gathering what we thought were nuts. Walnuts, we found out later. The families used horse carts to carry large sacks of walnuts home. Our silent driver continued his harrowing driving, never once slowing down for the families or their carts. I realized that these families were harvesting the nuts to supplement their diet.
I soon understood that the drab clothing the women wore were a true reflection of the lives they lived and the hard work they performed every day just to survive. The children were young. Were these women their grandmothers or their very tired and worn out mothers? I never asked anyone this question.
(to be continued... )
___________________________________
Arrival
Our Arrival Arriving in Moldova was full of challenges. Leaving from Odessa, in the Ukraine, we were to fly into Chisinau. When we arrived at the airport in Odessa to catch our flight, the Russian airlines, Aerosvit, informed us that there were no flights to Chisinau. What??? We have paid and confirmed tickets for our flight. Not to worry, we were told, we have a van and driver to take you to Chisinau. So we were directed to a gentleman, who had documentation from the airlines (thank goodness) and a small car of unknown make. Through a translator, we were ensured that this was the correct arrangements and that he would get us to Chisinau safely. I asked the translator, If we would be making any pit stops along our 3 hour journey. Our driver, we never did get his name, just rolled his eyes in disgust. How could I could ever think of inconveniencing him. Our thrill ride through the country was harrowing, extremely narrow roads, extremely bumpy roads, extremely reckless drivers and unheard of speeds under these conditions. Since there were no white lines indicating passing zones, vehicles hurled themselves head on without any thought to the two Americans who were praying out loud in the back seat. Oh, how I wished for an OS handle.
We arrived at the border of the Ukraine and Moldova. The driver cut in line. I don't know what he was thinking. He only succeeded to make the border guards and custom inspectors very angry. Curt and I slid further down in our seats to become as inconspicuous as possible. The welcoming committee looked like jack booted thugs carrying billy clubs and who knows what else. After taking our passports, they returned to check the car and trunk not once but three times. Each time by a different and more ferocious looking fellow. The most ferocious one looked us over very carefully, had me remove my sunglasses and then had a heated conversation with his pals. I guess they don't get many Americans crossing at this border. Our driver never said a word to anyone.
Starting our journey into Moldova, we passed lush fields and rolling hills. The highway was lined with large beautiful trees. Under the trees were farm women , peasants actually, dressed in head scarves and with aprons over their long skirts, not a single bright color did they wear. They were hitting the trees with long sticks that reached up to the highest branches. We drove for many miles before we saw children of all ages under the trees gathering what we thought were nuts. Walnuts, we found out later. The families used horse carts to carry large sacks of walnuts home. Our silent driver continued his harrowing driving, never once slowing down for the families or their carts. I realized that these families were harvesting the nuts to supplement their diet.
I soon understood that the drab clothing the women wore were a true reflection of the lives they lived and the hard work they performed every day just to survive. The children were young. Were these women their grandmothers or their very tired and worn out mothers? I never asked anyone this question.
(to be continued... )
This entry was posted
on Saturday, November 01, 2008 at 10:23 AM.
