I've been in America for a year now - and - time is still being funny with me. Sometimes I feel as if my time in Moldova was ages ago, other times it feels like yesterday. Either way, I miss it tremendously - both the people that I met there, and the idea of Peace Corps - working and living everyday as part of a mission, an adventure.

It may sound corny - but that is what it was.

Imagine having your whole life, every move that you make, scrutinized... Imagine not knowing what to expect, ever, when doing your day to day activities because you are living in a culture that although you are familiar with, is not your own... Imagine that the littlest things - from talking to a neighbor to getting your mail - were part of your job, because your job was cultural exchange...Imagine that you always feel part of a bigger picture, a bigger Peace Corps mission, and being able to deal with the small things, the frustrations, through that lens... Imagine, now because of these things every moment of your day really mattering.

I guess that has been my biggest shock since I came back - the lack of meaning in my day to day activities, and the lack of tie in to a larger goal. Most PCVs and ex-pats, upon returning to the States, will feel a loss of "specialness" of "uniqueness" but I think what I'm feeling is more than that - that feeling I expected, and was able to properly label and understand. Don't get me wrong (if you have read my blog you know this already), I'm not romanticizing either life nor my time in Moldova - there were ups and there were way downs - and I'm thankful now to be closer to my family and friends, and within a 10 minute drive of a store selling peanut butter. It's just, while I was in Moldova, I always felt like what I was doing mattered.

Now, however, back in the US I sometimes feel like I am floating. Even though I am in graduate school, with a plan - working towards a degree in Community Psychology - a degree that will no doubt give me the skills to continue doing the type of work I was doing in Moldova - it's too easy to feel disconnected with a bigger picture, with larger goals, like my day to day actions don't really matter. This has left me very susceptible to getting caught up in the little stuff, to loosing touch with the energy of the kids I work with, and to forgetting how good it felt to get one small win - such as 10 minutes with the mayor, or one parent telling us they are happy their kids are working with us - in our village.

Today, for instance, I was frustrated because I spent an hour trying to get Dell customer support on the phone to help fix my dad's printer, frustrated that I kept having to repeat information like my phone number and email address to the various people I was transfered to. Last year at this time I would have been jumping for joy for a stable internet connection. Where has my patience, perspective gone?

I have to admit, I delayed posting on my blog since leaving Moldova because I was waiting for something insightful to say. Some overarching, cumulative, thought-provoking post. It never came to me, so you were left with this rambling and unfocused post, and for that I apologize. I just had to get it out. Maybe the take home lesson is this: it's not over, and that is why I don't have a conclusion to come to (sounds like a good excuse for a poor post, yeah?).

Youth development and leadership are still alive and kicking in Singerei. The first "generation" of kids I worked with are now in college and away from the village. My partner is in Belgium, doing her own "Peace Corps" type experience with a European non-profit. And the class and center are being run by a new "generation." I like the continuity, the "life after" - the progress. But it's weird thinking of "my" project going on without me.

The kids who graduated feel the same way - it's not a jealous thing, it's more an eeriness - a look at it go - type feeling. One of the kids I worked with, now in college in Romania, described it as "having a baby, teaching the baby to talk - and then handing it off to some other parents who will teach it to walk - and just trusting them to take care of your baby." Elegantly put. :)

Graduate school is a funny time - because it's a lot about preparing - while Peace Corps was a lot about learning while you do. Hopefully, in the next year, I will be able incorporate more doing, more real world into my education. And, the stamps in my passport are getting lonely... I'm ready for more travels, and to be honest, I miss my Moldovan friends.

Hope all of you have a healthy and happy 2010! La multi Ani, cu sanatatea si fereceria! (See I still got the Romanian... sort of!). :)

This is going to be my last post from Moldova. I’m not really sure what to write, maybe for the first time. I left my village at 6 this morning – after a day of goodbyes, tears, promises to meet “somewhere, sometime,” hugs, kisses, and more food and wine than I have EVER consumed in one day before. Honestly, leaving Singerei was harder than leaving River Vale to come to the Peace Corps – because I always knew when I would see River Vale again, who knows when I will be in these parts again….

I think after this whole Peace Corps thing sinks in, as well as the whole leaving thing sinks in, I might write something else here, more reflective and clear. But until then – I have two more days in Moldova, and I leave you with the two biggest things I will take away from this experience – perhaps things that aren’t so obvious, and that maybe I haven’t mentioned before.

1) An interest in being a host family to a foreign student in America. I’ve lived here for 2 years with the same host family, and they have been wonderful – really instrumental in allowing me to be successful here. Before that, during Peace Corps training, I lived with another host family – I have learned the good and the bad, seen it all, heard it all, been introduced to it all, been forced dresses, forced fed, and forced to talk to company. I’ve also been invited to parties, treated as a sister, and expected to do chores. I think it would be a really great experience for me (and my future family) to host an exchange student, and give him or her the kind of experience I had in Moldova – the experience of feeling at home somewhere far from home. Also, its probably not a bad idea to expose children to foreign cultures from an early age.

2) The world has no corners. Maybe potential Peace Corps volunteers are dreaming of arriving and working in their “corner” of the world – remote, secluded, not-connected. But I have to squash those dreams because these corners, in my opinion, no longer exist. Obama in his acceptance also addressed those in “forgotten corners of the world.” - maybe these “corners” existed in the past, but right now I think it is an outdated notion. Especially when the majority of the world can get on the internet through almost any phone line, where tv uses satellite, where the kids in my village know more Eminem lyrics than I do, where people travel, books are translated, radio broadcasts stronger… not many people exist in seclusion. Maybe not everyone personally has access to the internet, or a telephone, but word of mouth travels where technology does not. We are more interconnected than you think. Just because places border with other foreign places, and not with America, does not mean they exist in a corner, in a vacuum – they just have different influences, different neighbors. The world is definitely round, and is, much, much smaller than you think.

This is the last of my aunt's observations about Moldova, and Peace Corps in Moldova. I don't like posting things that are self-lauding, but I know if I don't post it, she will be on my case forever. So I leave you with her last impressions - as well as commentary on my work here. So at least you have a witness to the fact that I didn't disapear for two years to lay on a couch somewhere....

_________________

Sharon will be closing down her blog very soon. I want to add a few observations.

1. Moldova is a beautiful rural country.

2. Private places are maintained, public places are not.

3. Traditions sometimes out weight comfort and common sense.

4. Sanitary conditions leave much to be desired.

5. Americans are still feared by some of the older rural population.

6. Old wives tales are still believed even in the face of science.

7. Income is sometimes supplemented by bribery.

8. Teenagers are the same all over the world.

9. Moldovans are wonderful, generous people.

10. Peace Corps Volunteers are wonderful, generous people.

11. I would not survive in Moldova.

What Sharon has accomplished in Singerei with the youth will last forever. She has done more than physically building and opening a youth center. She has changed lives. The teens have been given a voice in their future and the tools needed to change their future. They have attended leadership camps and workshops and they are already using these skills. They have learned what it means to volunteer and to take pride in their country and their village. The community of Singerei has already noticed the difference in their youth and the youth have noticed the differences in themselves. All Peace Corps volunteers have special gifts and the hearts to share these gifts. They have unselfishly given up twenty seven months of their lives to help others. Where do they get their generosity and strength to make this sacrifice? I know where Sharon gets her love of others and her desire to serve. She gets it from her mother, Susan.

Editor's Note: Some of the claims in this post have been disputed. :)

This is for my Romanian and Moldovan readers (I know you guys are out there, however few you may be!) For the rest of you - sorry, but I'm not in a translating mood. :)

A little background - our region has a bi-weekly youth newspaper called "New Generation." It started last year and the leadership approached me to write a column talking about differences between American and Moldova cultures. Seeing where that could lead to problems, I counter-proposed them that I would write a cooking column - listing American recipes that are possible to be made in Moldova. So far it's been a huge success. My host mom and I make them before I write them up, so that she can help me with the Romanian cooking verbs. It's funny to see her reactions to the ingredients - for chocolate chip cookies "Sharon, you made a mistake, it doesn't need THAT much sugar..." - for apple crisp "But you forgot to write how to make the dough... and you want to put OATMEAL in DESERT!" and - "everything in one pot?" with chili.

But people have made them - they stop me on the street and tell me they like them. Once due to a typo in a recipe for Granola, we had a few kitchen incidents that had people putting 2.5 cups of oil into the recipe instead of .25. Oops.

This is the last recipe I wrote - it will appear tomorrow. I thought I would share it with those of you who can read it.

Bon Apetit! :)

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Am inceput sa scriu aceasta rubrica pentru ca sa va impartasesc putin despre cultura americana voua, cei care ati impartit cultura moldoveneasca cu mine in acesti doi ani de zile. Vroiam sa va transmit lucrurile care eu le stiu, si anume recete care le pregatetim zi de zi pentru masa in America. Poate nu sunt sofisticate, dar sunt destul de importante pentru mine, sunt o particica din ceea ce sunt. Sper ca v-au placut. In caz ca nu ati incercat sa le faceti pina acum, incercati acuma. Sunt gustoase. Va promit.

Am avut placerea sa fiu aici, dar nu numai atit, am invatat foarte mult – mi-am deschis inima la alte pareri despre lume si chiar mi-am schimbat viziunea. Eu stiu ca niciodata nu voi putea sa vad lumea cu ochii unui moldovean, dar in viitor, eu nici nu voi privi lumea prin prisma americanilor. Eu sunt afectata de parerele voastre, de viata voastra; eu le iau in consideratie cind ma gindesc la orice. Cred ca voi, care ati petrecuit mult timp cu mine, ati fost si voi afectati de mine. Dar sper ca – pozitiv. Ar fi bine sa gindim cu totii ca niste cetateni, dar nu doar ca moldoveni sau americani. Cred ca acesta ar fi un pas destoinic spre intelegerea intre popoare, un pas mai puternic decit este redat in filme sau massmedia. Vreau sa multumesc fiecaruia pentru ajutor, pentru cuvintele frumoase de incurajare, pentru lucrul care l-ati facut, si ajutorul care mi l-ati acordat. Deci, in continuare voi transmite receta care am invatat-o aici, in speranta ca o veti folosi in viitor.

Inainte de a veni in Moldova, imi era frica – nu de a trai intr-o cultura noua, o tara noua sau de a vorbi intr-o limba noua – dar imi era frica sa fiu asa de departe de familia mea, prieteneii mei, de a ma simti singura. Dar nu s-a intimplat asa. Datorita voua, mai ales Maria, mama mea gazda, Nadaya, partnera mea si buna prietena, si baietii si fetele de nadejde de la consiliul local al tinerilor in Singerei, au fost doar clipe de singuratate. Si in final ma simt in Singerei ca la mine acasa. Dar vreau sa ma repet: Ma simt ca acasa, cu familia, intr-un loc care doar 2 ani in urma n-am stiut ca exista. Daca acesta nu inseamna progres, atunci eu nu inteleg ce este progres.

Iata si receta - Pace Mondiala

Ingrediente

- Tineri energici, deschisi, din doua sau mai multe culturi - virsta nu conteaza, trebue sa fie tineri la suflet.

- Timp (mult) – cit este necesar.

- Rabdarea (dupa gust si stilul fiecaruia)

Optional

- Jocuri

- Mult umor, haz

- Bomboane (in special, ciocolata)

Directie

Eu nu sunt sigura de procesul pentru a face pace mondiala, nici n-am incercat s-o fac. Doar am vazut ca este posibil. STIU ca este posibil si incepe simplu de la doi oameni. Doar trebuie sa ne intelegem – sa petrecem timpul impreuna – sa mincam impreuna – sa stam la o masa - si vom gasi o limba comuna, un scop comun. Poate aceasta suna prea idealistic, dar adeverat. Eu astept ca voi sa aflati receta exacta. Cind o aflati, o folositi, o impartiti, voi astepta si eu sa simt rezultatul lucrului vostru chiar si in America.

Pofta Buna, Viata dulce, si sa ne mai vedem in viitor!

6 days left.

6 Ways I have become a “moldovanca” since living here...

1) I never go to people’s house empty handed anymore – even if it’s just a short visit. I bring apples, wine, baked goods, or candy

2) Tights under my jeans – and other innovations in warmth have just become second nature by now.

3) I carry plastic bags with me EVERYWHERE I go - who wants to pay for a bag at the market?

4) When making appointments or engagements, I remember I need 30 – 45 minutes to walk there.

5) Don’t see a need to refrigerate eggs anymore

6) Feel like it is perfectly acceptable to ask personal “prying” questions to people – I have a right to know this stuff!

6 Ways I have retained my Americaness through these past 2 years

1) Dirty shoes still don’t offend me

2) I am not afraid of getting sick from the “current”

3) I still relish in my personal space and quiet, alone time

4) I do not think mayonnaise and sour crème go with every meal.

5) My shoes are comfortable and not stylish – still don’t walk around in high heels, to the disgust of many of my friends here.

6) I tend to still have a positive outlook – I may have thought I was a realist, but when looking at the bigger picture, Americans tend to be optimistic in a way that almost no other culture (that I know of) is.

A BUS RIDE

We looked forward to our visit to the winery in Milestii Mici, that Sharon highly recommended . We took a taxi to get to Milestii Mici from Chisinau, because we tried the public transportation system in Chisinau. It was an adventure, but definitely not something that we wanted to repeat. The bus that we took reminded me of the buses that you would see on a National Geographic show. No one was actually hanging out the doors and windows , but I wished I had been. When we got on the bus, it was only crowded. With each additional stop more and more people crowded in and no one got off. The influx of more passengers, pushed us further and further into this very close space. We could only move if someone else shifted just slightly, as a result we became very “ friendly” with our other travelers. The windows were closed. Sharon explained that the draft from open windows was thought to make you sick. This was apparently an old wives tale that was held by most of the populace. By this time, I wished everyone had considered a shower before they had gotten on the bus. It seemed as if each person was carrying large sacks , filled mostly with produce. They were probably on their way to the piazza. The man with the sack of sticks and limbs was probably on his way to…??? After we opened our mouths and the passengers looked at our clothing , we were the Americans no one could take their eye off . As a result, we were pushed closer and closer together until I was sitting on a large sack of something I couldn’t identify. When I exited the bus, it seemed as if I was a cork exploding from bottle of champagne. Every day was a new adventure that we would not have changed for anything.

MARIA AND THE WINERY AT MILESTII MICI

We were going to meet Sharon’s first host Mom at the winery and I was a little anxious. Maria knew Sharon for more than 2 years and now she was going to meet some of Sharon’s American relatives. What were Maria’s opinions of us going to be? Maria had invited us to stay with her; in fact, Sharon said that Mara had insisted that we stay with her. When we met Maria at the winery, we were greeted with open arms and a beautiful welcoming smile. Maria had arraigned a private tour of the winery for us with an English-speaking guide. The winery was incredible. The outside of the tourist center was a huge fountain . It was designed to look like bottles of red and white wine pouring wine into wine glasses. One side of the fountain poured red and the other white. What fun! Maria is the winery’s biochemist in charge of maintaining the quality of the wine. Both the winery and Maria had won international medals for their wine. The medals were displayed proudly on the walls of the winery’s museum. Entering the winery was overwhelming. We faced 50 kilometers of wine. Only one third of the available underground space was currently being used. Can you imagine? The temperature was a constant 52 degrees F. A refreshing temperature for this Texan. The winery contained 1.5 million bottles of wine and 400 million (you did read that right) liters of wine. Americans are not aware of Moldovian wine because of import/export problems. Can you imagine what the output would be if these restrictions were lifted? What a boom to their stagnant economy. Our taxi driver joined us on our tour and he had no idea that such a treasure existed in his country. I found this hard to believe. I think this was an indication of a prevailing mindset of a many of the citizens. They had great pride in what was their own private personal realm but however ,no awareness of their own country’s wonders . (Editors Note: Or simply can't afford it. The wine cellar, unfortunately, is geared towards foreign travelers, and is out of the reach financially of most Moldovans).

When we arrived back in Chisinau, we rented a car so we could get around better. The international driver’s license we needed was known as a VISA Card. Now Curt would be driving with all the speeding Moldovian drivers. Sharon navigated and I sat in the back and watched the country go by during our return trip back to Milstein Mica Turning off the single main road, we faced narrow, deeply rutted country dirt roads. The houses were all hidden behind tall decorative metal fences. It was impossible to see the houses. When we opened the gate to Maria’s home, it was like entering a villa. We passed under an arbor that was weighed down with delicious, ripe purple grapes. We had to sample more and more as we walked. Maria had beautiful gardens, both flower and vegetable. Like the rest of her neighbors, she also raised chickens and had a plot of land not far from her home, which she cultivated. Maria had water well in the front yard and an outhouse in the side yard. I am not sure if they were far enough from each other, if you know what I mean. All the homes and public buildings that we visited had outhouses. Now, these were not your typical American outhouses. There were no seats, just a 6-inch hole in the ground. This was not the ideal situation for an old, arthritic, over weight American woman who was also suffering from “tourista”. Maria took compassion on me and let me use her newly installed bathroom that was not used often. For the reasons mentioned above, I was the exception. Even with Sharon’s translation, I never could understand why the toilet was not used. I believe it had to do with the difference between the gauge of the pipes in the house and the pipes running to the outside. (Editors Note: there is no real "piping" running in and out of the house - thus when you use the bathroom inside, it needs to be physicall emptied).

Maria’s home was sunny, neat, and clean and since her son was working in Moscow, there was room for us to have our own room for the night. Maria had recently up dated her kitchen with new cabinets and granite look counter tops. Her apartment sized appliances were also new, even the microwave Maria’s position at the winery allowed her to have a better quality of life than most of her neighbors. When Maria arrived home we started on dinner, I helped the best I could. Women worldwide are the queens in their own kitchens and work faster without help than they could with help. We enjoyed a delightful meal outside on the patio. Maria gave us some wine as a gift. Along with the wine, she gave us a towel. A towel is always given when a gift is presented. This tradition was “ lost in translation” to me and perhaps not known by Maria herself. Maria was our first introduction to the warm generous people of Moldova.

Many of you have asked me the reaction of average Moldovans to Obama's election. That is their reaction, plain and simple. Not pro or con, just an observation that they can't help stating.

The word on the street here is that "America is going to change a lot." Not sure where they are getting that information - or what kind of change the average Moldovan is looking to see from America - but that is the feeling here, that a "new leaf" is being turned over. The Romanian radio stations seem to be supporting this - but truth be told - i haven't heard anything from the Russian news stations about the elections since they happened.

In general, I have found that Moldovans are very interested in American politics. Explaining the electoral college has been extremely challenging to my Romanian vocabulary. Often enough people ask me about Bush "Ce mai face Bush?" as if I know him -- and once a police officer asked me about Condi. They know American politics - and they laugh at "ignorant" Americans who cannot even name their president - or laugh at Americans getting caught up in things like the Obama's new puppy (Yes, that news made it here). They understand, however, that what happens in America affects them - and not so much the reverse. They do get annoyed, however, that we seem to know nothing about Russia. The feeling here was pretty against McCain from the beginning because of his "offensive behavior towards Russia."

I tell Moldovans that this is not something on the average American's mind - how Russia feels. They found that hard to beleive, it being such a big country. We are, worlds apart. And this American, for one, is excited to move back into the non-Russian influenced hemisphere. Can't wait.

With barely a week left in Moldova, I am half going crazy, half sad and half very excited. I know, that's three halves. I have more emotions right now than normal - so I get an extra half. I've said it before -- something I will miss in Moldova is sincerity - people take the time to be extra, extra nice to you - and words are heavy here - you say something, you mean it. If you don't say something, what's your problem, dude?

So here are the top 7 things people have "toasted" me for in Moldova. (Instead of a simple "cheers" toasts are personal, include wishes for future, health, and the state of the world. And they happen pretty often).

1) My health

2) The health of my family

3) The health of my future children

4) To find love - not someone beautiful, but someone who understands you

5) To stay how you are, always

6) Happiness, wealth and success.

7) Most recently - that we will meet again, and soon.

10 more days in Moldova.

Here are 10 Romanian words I am most likely to use everday when speaking (or trying to) English upon return to America.

1) hai! - used in any context to mean "come on.." or "let's go"

2) Pentru, Prin, cum, ca ... and other prepositions

3) asa - the moldovan equivalent of "like," basically a verbal filler

4) poftim - general interjection to express confusion

5) si - and?

6) scuza - scuse me

7) ce? - what?

8) Oye, aye, and Opa - verbal expressions like "oh man..."

9) fac - verb for I'm doing

10) magazin - easy to slip in because it is an English word, but in this sense, it means "store"

After three hours on the road, we arrived at the airport in Chisinau. No

pit stops! We were instructed by our Texas travel agent that we were to be

met by the Moldovan travel agent who was to take us to the hotel and give us

our first class tickets for the train to Romania. Remember for later, that

I said first class. We looked and waited to see the Moldovian agent who was

to have our names on a sign. An hour later when we had given up hope of

finding our agent or of finding anyone who could speak English, God sent us

a surprise angel disguised as our niece, Sharon. It had been five years

since we had seen Sharon. Way too long! Sharon is now fluent in Romanian

and was soon on the phone with our long lost travel agent. They said that

they weren't informed that they were to pick us up and they didn't have our

train tickets. But In only twenty minutes the agent was there to pick us up

and produced the first class train tickets. The Hotel Leogrand Was first

class all the way. The room, the service and the food was wonderful.

We spent the next day exploring the city. Chisinau on the whole was

crowded, gray and unkempt. We saw the Peace Corps building , which was on a

lovely shaded street. Across the street was the new Romanian consulate.

People were lined up and down the street waiting for their turn to apply for

a visa, either for a family visit or for a job opportunity. Sometimes they

waited for days. There was construction work on the same street. The

workers were hand digging trenches to install water lines. The workers and

the visa waiters were very intermingled; for there was no place for them to

get out of each other's way. People were sitting all over, including on

hills of dirt piled in the street. Everyone seemed to accept their

situation as normal and inevitable. Never again will I complain about

waiting on line at the post office or DPS.

We visited the piazza ( market place). The crowds were overwhelming. People

were gathering around the stalls that sold household goods and clothing. The

quality of which was very poor, a poorer quality than we would find in the

dollar stores back home. The market aisles were packed with people and

moving cars and trucks, and the vehicles were not moving slowly or paying

any attention to the pedestrians. In fact one car came so close that it hit

my purse which I had been carrying on my shoulder. I am very thankful that

it was a large purse.

The craft area was filled with lovely handmade gifts. We did buy several

items, including a beautiful hand crocheted cap for Ivy Marie. Many of the

babies and toddlers wore them. We also found some old military pins that we

bought for our grandsons. When we got home, we discovered that we were

victims of a slight of hand and one of the medals was switched for a plastic

reproduction. Oh well, that could happen anywhere.

The food stalls were filled with an abundance of beautiful fresh produce of

all types. In between the produce stalls old (?) women were attempting to

sell two or three over ripe apples. To whom do you give? To whom do you

help? There are just too many.

To be continued...

To be continued...continued...

My two years in Moldova have dwindled down to two weeks… two weeks! That’s 14 days. So, to mark the occasion, here are 14 things I will miss about Moldova. 1) Fresh fruit and veggies – in the garden, on the side of the street… want grapes? Just go outside and pick them. 2) The night sky. Without both light pollution and tall buildings, the sky over my village is a spectacular site – and huge – not only is it full of stars, but you can actually see the shifts in the star field with the seasons, because there is so little interference. 3) Speaking/thinking/expressing myself in a foreign language on a daily basis. Yes, it is challenging. But it is a challenge I’ve come to like. 4) Being walked home, all the time. Everyone here walks everywhere. After dark, no matter where I am – working at our center, at a party, or visiting a friend, someone will walk me home – to my door, even if it is 30 minutes out of the way. No comparison to dropping someone at their front door and speeding away. 5) Doing work that matters – yeah it’s frustrating at times, but I enjoy feeling that what I am doing is “making a difference.” When I get home I will have to take any job … and I have a feeling it’s not going to have the same level of satisfaction. 6) Mamaliga. Kind of like Polenta. Only the best grain this side of the Atlantic. 7) My host family / friends / colleagues. The people who have made this experience real for me. Enough said. 8) Weather related excuses. I’m not sure what job in America would accept me not coming in because it was raining and I didn’t want to get muddy. Or it was just too cold. 9) Being special. Yeah, everyone looking at you gets old. But being the-odd-one-out, and having people start conversations with you just because you are an American, has a certain draw to it. 10) Aggressive Hospitality. Moldovans do not make dates they don’t intend to keep. They don’t casually invite you over. They take you by the hand, drag you down the street, and pour food down your throat. In Moldova, people make sure you are neither hungry nor lonely. 11) Being able to take a walk in the fields and not come across another human being for hours… And they say the globe is overpopulated. 12) Seeing farmers, driving horse drawn carriages, talking on cell phones. This always makes me laugh. That, or seeing these same carriages, get passed by bmws on the high way. 13) Home made everything. Jam, honey, soft taco shells, cheese, tomato sauce made from our own tomatoes. 14) Sincerity. Not to say that all Americans are BS loving, sarcastic fools. Maybe we have just become too dependent on Hallmark to say things for us. But Moldovans are SO SO SO sincere when wishing you a safe trip, when thanking you for something, or celebrating your birthday. Not only do they wish you many more years of health and happiness, they bless your parents, your unborn children, anyone you work with. And the tone of their voice is so honest. It's almost like nothing I can say back has the same effect. So I usually cop out, smile, and say - you too.

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... )

In the Peace Corps, you do things you wouldn't normally do in real life - and people, Americans, are helpful (to one another) in ways not often seen in America.

Perhaps its the intensity of the experience, the type of people PC attracts, or the fact that your "people" have shrunk in number, incredibly - but there is something about being thrown into the same boat that makes you more sensitive to others needs, more likely to go out of your way for them, and more appreciative of time spent together.

In the Peace Corps, a package of taco seasoning sent from America is enough of a reason to throw a party. You may have been waiting 3 months for those granola bars, but of course, you share. Yes, I will lug your bag of bricks from America to Moldova, because I'm going there anyway, and I know, it will never make it in the mail. Please carry this (expensive item, amount of cash, report) to Chisinau because I don't have the time to go myself. Quality time waiting in line at the bank, count me in. And of course I will ride a bus 3 hours to "watch" election results come in over the internet with you.

That's just how we are here. And I kind of like it. It's a good feeling knowing you are not in it alone. And a better feeling knowing that all you need is a supply of peanut butter to maintain friendships.

Last month, a couchsurfer stopping by my village, made a comment about the stacks of books on my floor (lack of a bookshelf led me to this make-shift organizing method). He apparently had visited other PCVs and stated that it would be nice, to "take two years off of my life, learn a new language, do things for myself, and catch up on my reading."

While his perspective was VERY off about the life of a PCV, (It's not fair to call my time in Peace Corps "not real life"), he did recognize that we PCVs do read a lot. Why is this? Well I was never much of a TV watcher in the first place, but not having a television sure does cut down the amount of time you spend staring at the tube, "not watching." Also, when you first arrive in your community, and it is winter - no one goes outside, and there really isn't anything to do work wise. So we curl up and read. In my two years here, I have read 89 books. That's an average of more than 3 a month. Some highlights have been "A Sand County Almanac," "Wicked," "A History of Love, " "Animal , Vegetable, Miracle," and "The Audacity of Hope." And there have been some that I will never read again...

I've also spent a lot of time reading books about Moldova, and Eastern Europe in general. Not too long ago, Moldova got a lot of press as it was labeled the "Least Happiest Place on Earth" in the "Geography of Bliss." The author spends a total of 2 weeks in Moldova - mostly in the capital and another large city - before making this assertion. While I can't tell you not to read the chapter on Moldova - it is slightly entertaining in its offensiveness - I will tell you this. Reading this blog, and other PCV blogs is probably a better, more realistic take on the country (hell, I've lived here 2 years already and still am in the process of formulating opinions on its culture/people). Your parents warned you that not everything you see on tv is true… but someone needs to warn you that not everything you read in a book is true either.

If you aren't planning a trip to Moldova soon, I've created a list of books that are BETTER to read to find out about this country than the “Geography of Bliss.” While only two of them are specifically about Moldova, learning about the area in general will help you understand Moldova better. Most of these books are scholarly, and I don't expect all of you to read them - they can be dry - but for those of who you are interested in some expert opinions on this country, here are my recommendations. Get yourself to a library.

1) The Moldovans: Romania, Russia and the politics of Culture, by Charles King -probably the best and most accurate look at Moldovan history, culture and development. Written as a scholarly study, can be dry. Talks a lot about identity building and the use of language in politics. 2) Playing the Moldovans at Tennis, by Tony Hawks – do not read this book if you are EVER going to come to Moldova. If you aren't, it's a good (comic) look at the ridiculous aspects of everyday life here. While he has the same limitations of Weiner's book, he is fairer to the population. Also, he travels to the breakaway state of Transdnisteria and his experiences there are really interesting.

3) Bury me Standing: The Gypsies and their Journeys, by Isabel Fonseca - traces the Roma (gypsy) people all over Eastern Europe and discusses their experiences, including in Moldova, and prejudices existing against them.

4) The History of Eastern Europe for Beginners – If you are one to say, Moldova – where? This is a good book for you. Funny and easy to understand (with pretty pictures!) this book will help you sort out the fates of the former Yogoslavia, Czechoslovakia and Soviet Union.

Also, if you find yourself interested in the region, and not specifically in Moldova, you can check out “Balkan Ghosts” and the “New Russians”. Happy reading! (If anyone reading this has any additions to this list, please let me know. English language books on the region are hard to come by... )

The leaving, the mass exodus of the 28 Americans I came to Moldova with 26 months ago. And it's hard - to watch people go, to help them pack, to say goodbye, and to be here without them - harder than I thought it would be.

I am only going to be here a month longer than the volunteer who left the earliest, yet it feels weird already, being here, in Moldova, without "everyone." It's a given that we volunteers didn't see each other on a daily basis, some not even on a monthly basis. Moldova is a small country (slightly larger than the state of Maryland), yet some volunteers were separated by two days bus trip and many, many crappy, bumpy roads. But there was something comforting about knowing there are others like you, out there, alone, being forced fed by their host moms as well.

Still. Who joins the Peace Corps to meet Americans? No one, really. It just happens. While you spend the majority of your service as the "only American" in a place, you are constantly "surrounded" by letters, emails, text messages and phone calls from other volunteers - going through the same or similar cultural and work related situations daily. Peace Corps has a way of forging fast and intense friendships -- when you are away from home, you make yourself a home, as best as you can. I got to know my American Peace Corps friends faster than I got to know most of the friends I have in America - out of need, yes, but also because we have a common thread outside of just happening to be Americans in Moldova at the same time - we all joined the Peace Corps, which makes us all a little crazy, and predisposed to getting along, to understanding each other.

I am lucky enough to be ending my Peace Corps service with many Moldovan friends, with whom, thanks to the help of the internet, I will continue to communicate with after I am back in America. I don't worry about that. What I do worry about, however ironic, is keeping in touch with my American Peace Corps friends, once we are scattered across the lower 50, and taking part in such different realities. These are the people who got me, mentally, through the last two years. Who allowed me to be so effective in my village, who encouraged me, who laughed both at me and with me, who pushed me when I needed it the most. Sappy, maybe? Honest, yes. After two years, I have earned the right to be reminiscent.

"Ain't it Amazing all the people I met... we're the volunteers of America... "

My patience for this particular gem of Moldovan culture has worn out, 2 years and 1 month into my service.

People NEED clean, fresh air. Even if it is cold, breezy air. Take that back. Especially cold, breezy air. It recycles germs, invigorates people, and keeps you from falling asleep. WIND DOES NOT MAKE YOU SICK. And yes, I'm sure of that.

Last week, a bus driver and two of my Moldovan friends somehow managed to make me feel utterly stupid for believing that cold air does not make one sick. How did they do it? "We drive around with windows open in America and don't get sick... " but you have "different air there" claims the bus driver. Really? I didn't realize that there was a border in the sky surrounding your country...

I'm not entirely sure where this "current" theory comes from. Maybe from the Greek "bad air" idea. I know my grandma used to tell me not go to out of the house with a wet head or I would "catch my death;" but this is a wives' tale on crack. I understand - being cold can make you more susceptible to germs. But being cold is not equal to catching a cold.

What made this episode the turning point in the Sharon vs. the Current battle? The fact that the driver was smoking. I don't want to breathe in his disgusting fumes, I don't want lung cancer. "Smoke is bad to breathe in," I said. "Just for me," he claimed, "you aren't smoking." "Studies have been done showing that second hand smoke is very bad for your health..." "How did they prove this?" he asks. "Through tests, of course." "Well I have proven myself that the current makes you sick. Many times. Why are your American tests better than mine?" ARGHTHIWOER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

What I wanted to say was - "How come the rest of the world thinks second hand smoke is bad, and ONLY Moldovans think that wind makes you sick?" Fortunately what little patience I had made me bite my tongue. And my friend just looked at the driver, and at me, gritting my teeth, laughed and consoled him (not me)-- "We've been trying to convince her for TWO YEARS, there is nothing you can say to change her mind. Stubborn American."

I told her the same thing I've been saying for 2 years - when she shows me a science book saying that wind causes sickness, I will re-open the topic. I'm not that stubborn. I just need some solid convincing, not popular knowledge.

This is a post I've thought about writing for a long time., but ironically, I could never find the right words. In my lifetime, I have taken 12 years of Spanish classes -- today I can *maybe* say 12 Spanish words. Yet since coming here in September 2006, 2 years ago, I am now fluent in Romanian. That's right, I said fluent - no exageration. I work in Romanian, shop in Romanian, express myself in Romanian, get directions in Romanian, argue in Romanian, write my weekly newspaper article in Romanian, dream in Romanian, talk to myself in Romanian, and now even, think in Romanian. I noticed that last month when I went home for Cathy and Brian's wedding. (weirdest thing about being in America - hearing people speak English all around me, as background noise. I'm used to recognizing every voice that speaks English). I would be talking to a group of people, and in my head I would be translating my response from Romanian to English. (I know you can't believe it, I couldn't either). My "cruise control" has become Romanian. The filler words I use while speaking English in Moldova are Romanian words, because let's face it - the large majority of the people I speak to here, in Moldova, in English, are other Peace Corps volunteers, who know the Romanian and therefore give me the freedom to switch in and out when the time is appropriate. And that's true, sometimes the words are just better in one language or another. Some things just don't translate. Or they lose the meaning. Like for example, my host family generally speaks Romanian, but there are some Russian words they use daily because they just fit the bill better. In Russian, after one takes a shower, you are to tell them (spelled phonetically) "sloo-kiim pahrum", which if you translate it word for word it's "good vapors." What it really means is something to the extent of "Happy awesome feeling you got from just showering." Maybe it's not the most necessary of words, like "help" or "water", but it's definitely a nice idea - to recognize and congratulate people on the nice feeling of taking a shower. Why didn't we think of that in America? On the other hand, there are the funny situations of idioms that show up in both cultures. We have cat nap. In Romanian they have "little chicken nap." But while I can't explain why flying butter is an insect, or the meaning of the word "raincheck," Moldovan's can't explain to me why you describe a smart person as "having a chair on his head," or "cutting leaves at the dog" means doing nothing. In English we say someone is "on the phone" or ask what is "on tv" - yet when I use the same sentence structure in Romanian, my host mom laughs at me, and responds with her tried-and-true come back of "if they are on the phone, than the phone must be broken." In Russian, the word for "red" is the same as the root word for "beautiful". Think about it. In Romanian, there are different words for "road" and "paved road." Cheeky in English is "cheeky" in Romainan - the same meaning of fresh and then some, but formed with the Romanian word for cheek of course. In Romanian, as well as in Russian, to give someone a nickname, you usually end up making their name longer -adding ita or uta or duta to the ending. Dictionaries can often be hopeless - sending you in circles inside of more circles with their translations. The best thing, I have found, was to infer meaning from context (although that can get you in trouble, a lot). My host mom always comments that my Russian accent (the little Russian I speak) is better than my Romanian one. Why? Because I learned Romanian out of a book, with 5 other Americans trying to learn Romanian. I learned Russian by mimicking people in the street, in the piata, on the phone. My intonation is simply a reflection of theirs, not my mastering of any grammar rules whatsoever. An interesting thing for me is to look at the different vocabulary of various Peace Corps volunteers. We start off with the same basic vocabulary - but then, depending on job, site placement, host family, the friends we make, the people we interact with - we meet again after 3 months of being at site, alone, and have completely different vocabularies. My friend Andrea can name 4 different kind of cattle. I can talk you in circles about fairy tales, pirates and monsters. Ben can tell you about banking, fixed loans and credit. Yet even if we don't have the same vocabularies, we always understand each other - because we are non-native speakers of Romanian, and all native speakers of English. So while one volunteer is presenting something to a room full of confused Moldovans, we might be in the back nodding along - because we understand what he is trying to say, because we understand how he constructed the sentence - using English thought, but filling in Romanian words. Yes, it is easier to learn a language when you are forced to learn it, as I was in the Peace Corps. But is it easy? No. It's frustrating, and tiring -very tiring. Even more so when you know you are saying the right word, just pronouncing it wrong, and the person in front of you does not understand you. Context clues people! Yes, maybe I'm putting the accent on the wrong part of the word - but if we are in a store and I am pointing at a bag of pretzels, you can assume the word that sort of sounds like pretzels is pretzels, and not machine gun (if that word also sounds like pretzels). I still talk around words a lot, it's not as efficient, but I can get my point across.

Even with the frustrations, learning a foreign language has been very rewarding, especially in Moldova - where language is so politicized. I look like a foreigner, and when I open my mouth and speak Romanian - people drop theirs. They congratulate you, tell you how glad they are you are speaking "their" language, how surprised they are - and then they go on to rant about so or so group that has been living in Romanian for such and such and amount of years and has refused to learn Romanian. Slackers. It makes you feel good. I've also learned how much can be communicated without language. Not only normal "I have to go to the bathroom" or "I'm lost" body language, but as we have the thumbs up and the come here, Moldova has their own hand gestures - one for "let's have a drink" and one for "you're not behaving honestly (honestly isn't the right word - I can't think of the right word in English. It's like - 'shame on you' or something to that extent). How long will I remember Romanian? Let's see. I'd like to say forever, because I will miss speaking in two languages. But I doubt it. In my short trip to America I already lost so much. I am afraid of not having people to speak it with and then loosing it -- I can see that happening, and it makes me sad. I'm sure my American friends and relatives will ask me the ever-popular question "say something in Romanian?!" but surely that is not enough.... :) Right now, I am sitting here, thinking about once again expressing myself in English. And thinking about what will come with it - confidence, vocabulary, respect (as in, I now no longer sound like a 12 year old). I am also worried about the confused looks, waiting for me in America, as I try to re-train myself to speak clean English.

It should be interesting.

Something weird that happened during my trip to America. I watched the news - and heard both canidates - Obama and McCain talk about the election for the first time. It was strange hearing their voices after a year of reading news stories online.

They don't sound like they do in my head.

This week it seemed like my entire village was closed.

No one was working in the post office, half of the kids were absent from school, and the open-air market was slim pickings – moldy potatoes, anyone?. And at night, there were no people strolling the streets, or gossiping around wells - just quiet, still evening skies.

Picking grapes, that’s where almost everyone was. In the fields around our villages, where each family has a plot – or gone to the villages of their parents and grandparents, to help with the harvest there. Grapes mark the end of the harvest season (we’ve already collected cherries, tomatoes, peppers, apricots, potatoes, grain, apples, pears and corn,) and is one of Moldova’s most important, or at least most culturally important, crops.

Everyone I know here makes their own wine, “vin de acasa.” When you visit someone, it is essential that you drink at least a cup of their wine – commenting on the flavor and quality. Wine ties them to the Earth, to where they are from. My host brother, living in Chisinau, the capital, while studying law, does not drink wine produced locally near his city nor does he buy wine from the store – my host mother sends him bottles of wine from our village to drink for the year.

Wine is something Moldova can, and does brag about (although they rarely export it due to quality control standards in EU and American markets, as well as Russian bullying). Popular knowledge says that Moldova even looks like a bunch of grapes, when viewed from on the map of the world.

Picking grapes is hard. The plants are low to the ground. They easily squish and roll around. And they stain – your clothes, your hands, and your mouth. And you have a very short time to get them all off the vine before they rot, fall off, animals get them, or they freeze – like any other fruit.

Hard work, yes. But delicious work too.

(GREAT Pictures to come – my internet connection is not behaving).

Recently I have been the epitome of the absentee blogger.

Where have I been? Well, I’m glad you asked. Last week I went home for the wedding of my cousin Cathy (it was beautiful!). Seems simple enough – a trip to the States – not so.

I have to admit I am ready to STAY PUT after all of this traveling around… I think I am going to spend the last 5 weeks of my time in Moldova just being here, in my village, enjoying life in Moldova, instead of running around to “see all of the places I haven’t yet gotten to,” which is sometimes a common symptom of the last days of one’s Peace Corps Service.

Why am I fed up with traveling? See for yourself. Here is a basic play-by-play of how I got to said wedding, and back:

Moldova - NJ

Call Moldovan friend with car to pick me up from my house and drive me out of our village to the main high way. (I normally walk to the edge of town, but it wasn’t possible with all my baggage)Wait on the side of main high way for bus to come. Bus stops but will not take me to Chisinau because my hiking backpack and rolling suitcase is “too much stuff” (despite the fact that some Moldovans get on the bus with crates of Chickens and pungas full of veggies/fruits/sour crème). Argue with Bus Driver – say I will pay for the extra seats that my baggage takes up. He still refuses to take me, shaming capitalists everywhere. Stand on the side of the high way pissed off. Watch it start getting dark outside. Imagine missing my flight the next morning. Start flagging down random cars in a half-panic. (after not getting a bus to stop for 25 minutes)Get picked up by a guy who is going to “just outside of Chisinau.” I’m desperate- decide it’s good enough for me – and that I will deal with my problems as they appear. Guy drops me off 20 miles from the center of Chisinau, the capital of Moldova, somewhere I have never been, in the dark on a Saturday night. Haul stuff 20 feet to bus stop (Moldovan roads are not made for rolly suit cases)Flag down bus. Take bus to within 5 blocks of Peace Corps. Helpful bus driver tells me where to get off. Negotiate with a taxi driver to take me to Peace Corps with my luggage – short taxi ride ends up costing just as much as 2 hour ride from my village to Chisinau. Take taxi to Peace Corps, which although so close, requires navigating a series of one-way streets and open air markets, and takes a long time. Arrive at Peace Corps. Do some email. Check on my flight. Take a cab to where I will stay the nightTake a cab at 3:30 am to the airportHave cab break down at 3:55 am, right outside of airportGuy attempts to fix cabGuy doesn’t fix cabGuy hails down another cab, who drives me the last 3 minutes to airportFly to Budapest, transfer planesTake nap in Budapest airportArrive in New York CityCruise on into the 201 with the dad-mobile.

NJ to Moldova

Dad drives me to airport, right to the door of the check in at JFK Roll suitcases into line, 2.5 hours before the plane is scheduled to leaveMiss flight due to a number of circumstances, none of them my fault (traffic accident, mass chaos at the airport, ridiculousness of other passengers, badly trained Delta employeesDrag stuff over to the Delta ticketing office; get standby ticket for free – after very little convincing, and a lot of proof on my part, Delta agrees that my missed flight is indeed their fault. Standby until the next dayFind a sympathetic employee who puts me on a flight to Paris, 25 hours after I was scheduled to leave NYCFly to Paris; nap in ParisFly to Istanbul – run to terminal of new flight just to have the terminal moved across the airport. Argue with Turkish airlines about paying a “surcharge” on my ticket because I missed the original flight the day before (when my delta NYC flight was scheduled to get in)Fly from Istanbul to ChisinauArrive in Chisinau – have the Halloween candy that I brought back to Moldova picked through by the security guards at airport (candy corn was especially suspicious looking). But the laptops I brought back for my village schools not even glanced at. So much for import taxes. Get ripped off by cab driver from Airport to Peace Corps – don’t care at this point, I just want to get “home!” Drop stuff I brought back for other volunteers at Peace Corps office; take cab from Peace Corps to Bus StationGet on last bus towards the North of Moldova for the night (lucky timing! Karma paying me back…. And I avoid having to spend the night in Chisinau). Get off by my village – call a friend and get a ride to my house.Collapse in bed. Don’t fall asleep until 4:30 am because I am still on American time.

This past week has been rainy and cold, and of course muddy. I got that chill in my body - the chill of winter in Moldova - of knowing that you will be really cold (indoors and outside alike) for the next 5 months.

A few days ago it stopped raining because it was too cold to rain (the nights have been as cold as 0 degrees celcius). Today, September 19th, it snowed in Moldova.

What happened to fall?

Peace Corps volunteers at the bonfire; my class on leadership; tie-dye! (an American staple)

This summer I spent a significant amount of my time working as a co-director for GLOW Summer Schools. (GLOW = Girls Leading Our World) GLOW Summer Schools are, if you can imagine, traditional American summer camps on crack - as in everything you imagine at a camp plus lectures, leadership development, health seminars, guest speakers, and lots and lots of s'mores. They are designed for girls ages 14 - 17, to teach them to make informed decisions for their own lives. If you remember, I worked on this project last year as well. My involvement in GLOW is what Peace Corps calls a "secondary project," as in it's not my main job in my community --we worked with Non-Profits and girls from all over Moldova. Next year other Peace Corps Volunteers will pick up the work where we left off - and continue it.

This year we completely re-designed the program. Instead of one national camp, which was costly and depended on foreign aid grants, we designed two local camps - and got donations of camp spaces, transportation, food, etc. We also worked directly with local non-profits instead of a national organization, and this allowed us to reach more of our target group (poorer girls from villages, girls at risk of trafficking). It was a transition year - but this year was GLOW's 10th birthday in Moldova - and it was a good time to change it, to make it more sustainable.

My favorite part of the camp this year was our Counselor-in-Training program where we invited the best girls from last year to apply to be jr counselors. These girls were so amazing, so energetic, and so dedicated to GLOW that it was a pleasure to work with them. Some of them were only 16 years old, but were very responsible. Sometimes, in Peace Corps especially, I feel we get stuck on the "sustainability" of a project in terms of money - but this jr counselor program focuses on sustainability of people -- when Peace Corps pulls out of Moldova (eventually) there will be trained Moldovan women who went to GLOW, loved GLOW, learned something at GLOW, and can now lead it.

Plus - talking to the girls about their experiences at GLOW is always so heartwarming it borders on cheesy. True, though. As you can tell from the pictures, it was a lot, a lot of fun, as well as very very exhausting. (I know it's the end of September already, but I couldn't not write about this camp -- it was too big a part of my life in Moldova to leave it out).

And a big shoutout to Danna Klein, provider of tie-dye!!!!!!!!!! Thank you!

Myself and our incorrectly colored Olympic rings; the girls in a contest to eat cookies off of a string (no hands!)

Two different classes at GLOW; the classes are in Romanian and Russian.

Peace Corps Volunteers working on GLOW; a class

"Rock, Paper, Scissors" in the "Bear, Hunter, Ninja" version; the medal ceremonies at our GLOW-impic Games.

Going to the post office in Moldova always puts me in a bad mood (in case you can’t tell from previous blog posts- this is your official notice). No matter the time of day, or the day of the week, one is required to wait on line behind loads of people buying postage, paying their electricity bills, receiving their pensions, buying soap or getting a passport – and it is always too hot (winter, spring, summer and fall). Understaffing? Nope. There are usually 4 or 5 employees doing literally nothing, while one person tries to hold back the masses. Also, when you do get to the front of the line – the postal workers act like you are bothering them. To America, a letter? I don’t think we do that here… or you are somehow waiting on the wrong line (even though there is only one), … or you need to come back on Thursday between 9:00 and 9:02 am for that particular service.

Plus. No one seems to get mad at the lines, at the rush, at the crowdedness. Sometimes I feel like people, the older ladies especially, fill their days by coming to the post office to gossip, see who is getting packages and letters, and to generally be recognized. Not to mention to ask one little question that they already know the answer to – or could find out the answer to by calling a neighbor or friend.

I was reading Bill Bryson’s “Notes from a Big Country” and he, I think, adeptly characterized American Post Offices while comparing them to British ones. His description is fitting here:

From Pg 41:

"The counter staff are always briskly efficient and pleased to give you an extra piece of stick tape if it looks as if our envelope flap might peel open. Moreover, American post offices deal only with postal matters- the don’t concern themselves with pensions, car tax, family allowances, TV licenses, passports, lottery tickets or an of the hundred things that make a visit to an British post office such a popular, all-day event and provide a fulfilling and reliable diversion for chatty people who enjoy nothing so much as a good long hunt in their purses and handbags for exact change. Here there are never any queues and you are in and out in minutes."

--------------------

Minutes! Minutes!? Imagine that... if only. In summary, Scott – I hope you eventually get my letter – Moldova doesn’t seem to know what an APO is. And the person who tried to “help” me at the post office would only speak in Russian – I miss my friendly westwood post office.

Often enough, people ask me why I included an apparently-nonsensical word in my blog url address. “Palagi,” pronounced ‘Pah-langh-gii’ is actually the Samoan word for “other” or “outsider.” (For those of you who don’t know me, I spent 6 months studying in Samoa while I was a junior in college – I know, I know – I guess I like living in small, relatively unvisited countries with three-syllable names).

Thinking back, I would have to admit that this word was the Samoan term I heard the most frequently while living there. Whether it was said about me in the context of an introduction, whispered behind my back as I walked by, or used in a greeting to get my attention (somewhere along the lines of “hey you, palagi, come over here!”– It was crystal clear that we (my classmates and I) didn’t belong – weren’t Samoan and definitely weren’t “from here,” AND that it was perfectly acceptable to draw attention to these facts.

(Side bar: At the beginning of our time in Samoa we were under the impression that the word Palagi meant “white man,” but our language teacher later explained to us that this was more of a connotation – the Samoans used the word also while observing other Pacific Islanders, etc. It’s just as an island in the middle of the Pacific, most of the “visitors” that come are white – you don’t get as much of the border crossing / population mixing as you would in Europe, for example, while living on an isolated island).

As Americans we tend to think towards assimilation; it’s considered rude to call people out on their differences – the fat one, the one who talks funny, the one who isn’t “ours”, especially publicly. The entire time we were in Samoa we remained palagi – living with host families, eating the same food as Samoans eat – integration was never the goal, cultural learning through immersion was. There is a difference. (In fact, the reason I chose the SIT - School for International Training in Samoa program was its focus on immersion, that many study abroad programs didn't have). Through this focus, we became the Palagis who could speak Samoan, the Palagis who stay here for more than a week, the Palagis who knew not to walk in front of elders but behind them— but that term always stuck with it, and colored what we did.

So why did I take this Samoan word and apply it to my Peace Corps service in Moldova? (Before I even showed up in Moldova, before I took part in any Peace Corps training events, and before I met even one Moldovan…) Because I understood from the beginning that the Peace Corps (anywhere in the world you are working for them) is about being different, being a stranger, being aware that you are the odd one and being more of an American than you ever thought you were, or ever identified yourself as.

This is not to say the Peace Corps is about not-belonging… in my personal understanding, the job of a Peace Corps Volunteer, at its core, is about coming to belong to a place you once were an outsider to.

Belonging to another place doesn’t mean giving up the place where you used to belong – you probably still belong there too (and they hopefully want you back). Coming to shed the outsider status doesn’t necessarily entail having to shed your cultural identity or personal beliefs - I never expected to not be referred to as "American." But it does mean dividing your loyalty, your heart, your home, your attention span, and essentially yourself.

How many of us ever belong somewhere other than our home? College I attended, but never called my home – it was always, “where I was studying away from home.” (I personally, was never one to call “home” – anywhere I lay my head, anywhere I live – “home” to me is my HOME. I’m very careful about how I use that word.) Perhaps as we grow older, move around and establish families, we create for ourselves new homes, in fact I know we do, we have to. But in those cases it is usually somewhere in America, with Americans – and while you may have felt like it, you probably were never a real outsider, just a neighbor from a different part of town, who talks a little funny, or uses a different amount of mayonnaise in potato salad. Living in America, talking about partisan differences, the Christian right, regional dialects- you lose sight of how much you have in common; perhaps you can’t realize how uniting the factor of “being American” is until you have lived abroad.

Being in the Peace Corps is accepting the fact that you are an outsider, but going with it anyway. It is adapting yourself, not trying to change the world/culture/host family around you. I always compare my time in Moldova with my time in Samoa because they are my only two living experiences. But honestly, they shouldn’t be compared. We lived and observed, respectfully, life in Samoa. In Moldova, we live life, are a part of life, make our own life - even if we didn't expect to, even if we used phases when leaving America such as "taking a break from life" or "leaving it all behind", even if we knew it wasy always temporary. We have a life here now, too.

This feeling right now, as I am thinking about the last 2.5 months I have in the Peace Corps, is new to me – it is a feeling of not only having two homes, but of really belonging two places.

So while I still am “the Americanca” which I guess is equivalent to “the palagi,” I am now “our Americanca” to the people of my town. And that one little, three-letter word is the result of all my two years Peace Corps work – officially towards “the promotion of peace and friendship” but ultimately towards “understanding and mostly, belonging.” ---I only fear that continuing my life here - comunicating with my friends, family and neighbors - will be a million times more difficult when I leave, than communicating with you in America is now. And i'm not ready to completely give it up. I like the double life. :)

So, having been at this blog for 2 years already, it is interesting to me who is actually reading it. My tech-savy computer tells me where my readers log on from, how long they read my blog for, and how many times they come back.

The following is a list of places where I have readers that I can't figure out who they are... Please drop me a comment on this post and let me know who you are, where you are from, and why you are reading! :) I made it so you can post anonymously and respond - without having to leave your email or anything! Even if you aren't from one of these places, just let me know you are reading!

Peace,

Sharon

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(these are locations where people have logged onto my blog more than once)

Bucharesti, Romania

Centerville, Virgina, USA

Altoona, Pennsylvania, USA

Holland, Michigan, USA

Seattle, Washington, USA

Istanbul, Turkey

NYC, New York, USA

Houston, Texas, USA

Reston, Virgina, USA

Boulder, Colorado, USA

Chisinau, Moldova

Sydney, Australia

New Jersey - all over

Plainwell, Michigan, USA

Atlanta, Georgia, USA

Plano, Texas, USA

Ames, Iowa, USA

Washington DC, USA

Barcelona, Spain

Salt Lake City, Utah, USA

People constantly ask me about life in America - the differences, the similarities. But Moldovans constantly frame the question in a biased manner. "It's better over there, isn't it?," or "Life in America is so much easier, yeah?" or "How can you like it HERE when you live in AMERICA?" Granted most of these people have never been out of the Soviet Union - and their perceptions of American come from Russian propaganda, and now TV and magazines.

My answer to these questions is always that life is "different" there and there are pluses and minuses of each place. My pluses for America are always proximity to mountains and ocean, free (and well-stocked) public libraries, and my family, of course. The minuses for America are a huge gap between the rich and poor (something the average Moldovan does not see or hear about), the fact that our country is split on almost every important issue, the lack of hospitality/feeling of community that exists in most of our neighborhoods (I remember being angry at people for not speaking English, instead of going out of my way to help them - as Moldovans have helped me) and I know more people in my village now than I know in River Vale, seriously, too much sacrificed for career, and the fast pace of life. For example.

Would I ever pick up and move to Moldova for good? Nope. I can live here (or anywhere else) for a few years, but I don' t think the ex-pat life suits me. I miss the open, say-anything, be who you are atmosphere of America. It's something in the air, something in the water, that reeks of possibility - of change - of momentum. Something that makes you feel like anything can happen in America, you can be who you want - if you just work towards it. (Okay maybe these Horatio Alger stories are few and far between - BUT - outside of economic talk, rags to riches - talking about forming a club, starting a sports team, writing a letter to the editor, taking an art class just because you want to - you have the freedom to do that). And it is a freedom we take for granted. To not be judged by our whims or our differences.

In Moldova, the air is more stagnant. You feel tied down by processes, bureaucratics, and in a way - tradition. "We do it like this because this is how we ALWAYS have done it" is not a rare response. Also, close ties to your neighbors can lead to competition, jealousy and nosiness - and a lot of social pressure to conform. I feel it and I don't even really live here. Moldova isn't an ethnically homogeneous society - there are Ukrainians, Romanians, Bulgarians, Turks, Armenians, Russians, Roma and Hungarians all living within this small country -- yet somehow things are generally the same across the country. Yes there are regional and ethnic differences. But go to a celebration in one house in one village in Moldova, and go the next year to the same celebration in a different house across the country and most likely you will do the same things, and eat the exact same food. I'm talking EXACT same. Sometime it is suffocating the lack of diversity of thought, and action. I know the youth feel it too - when they try to do something new, and get pulled back by people who say they can't - that it won't work that way - naysayers that have never even tried.

These youth I'm afraid will leave Moldova - to Romania most of them to do studies. And I don't blame them. Sometimes I feel like there they will have the best chance for personal improvement. But it's too bad for Moldova - who needs this new innovative generation to stay here and fight. But it's hard, sometimes too hard - when no one listens, and you have to fight a year to gain an inch, only to have half the inch taken away from you with one back room deal. People talk about you as you fight, not admirably - like you are crazy. And for a place that values community so much - to be the odd one out - you do not have a great life, and are constantly on the defensive - I see this with a lot of my students who are different - and who are not afraid to be, who express themselves differently, and although I am proud of their self-expression, I feel bad for the treatment they receive from their community. It's almost like scorn. I know they are torn - between leaving and staying. Moldova needs them. It just needs to realize it needs them.

A few months ago, I read a blog post on the "Freakonomics" website about finding a new, 6-word motto for the United States. The motto that won the contest, "Our Worst Critics Prefer to Stay", speaks, in my mind, to this very issue.

One can't describe life in America in any fixed terms, because life in America is different for each of its citizens - based on socioeconomic status, geography, race, age, religion, profession, gender, etc etc. Everyone has their own experience and interaction with the principles that shape our country. However, I think it is something to be proud of - this motto - and the truth of it -- that our society, despite all its problems, partisan fighting, and ethnic/religious bickering, makes people feel at home, like they want to stay, like they can do something to change it. And that, in my opinion, is what makes America Great - the fact that our worst critics prefer to stay, and to fight to change (and improve) our country.

America is an active process, and the fact that we admit to this, and accept it, is amazing.