It's another 40 hours or so before my status officially changes from "Peace Corps Volunteer" to "Returned Peace Corps Volunteer." But I've already left my community to tackle the paperwork and medical clearance process leading up to my departure. The picture above was taken on my last day at the youth council.

At the closing event, I gave a small presentation to the council, highlighting all that we have accomplished, learned from one another, and my recommendations for the organization's future. At the end of the event, the youth council presented me with a homemade "yearbook," including everyone's photograph and handwritten messages. My favorites are the ones that recall shared experiences and moments of genuine learning.

I've spent the last three days saying farewell to my life in Moldova. Rather than attempting to repeat two years of fantastic memories, challenges, and accomplishments, I encourage readers to take a look at the previous posts. The purpose of this blog is to help others come to a better understanding about the people, culture, and life of my beautiful host country. I hope it's been helpful thus far and will continue to be in the future! Some of my favorites:[+] A Moldovan Wedding[+] World AIDS Day 2010

[+] A local fundraiser

[+] Youth taking control of their futures

[+] A campaign completed

At the last minute, I decided to host a cookout for American Independence Day. Doina (left) came to help me skewer teriyaki veggie kebabs and whip up a batch of homemade marshmallows. Thanks to a care package I recently received, I also served up smoked salmon on toast. I am happy to report that at the end of the night, two lonely marshmallows were all that remained. Since the kiddos made themselves miserable with sugary indulgence, they simply couldn't bring themselves to finish the last two nuggets of gooey goodness.

My host mother couldn't understand why I wanted to host a party outside, and spent the afternoon fixing up the dining room just in case I changed my mind. Thankfully, by evening, she understood how much backyard barbeques really are better than indoor parties. Most of the neighbors stayed late into the evening, sipping wine, eating until only those two marshmallows remained, and socializing, despite that fact that the celebration fell on a Monday night.

Just when my host Mom started bragging about how this adopted daughter learned all the Moldovan customs for parties (meaning I arranged the food in a frumos or "beautiful" way and served up at least one dish containing mayonaise), I failed miserably. I was trying to offer people beverages. There was a table covered with house wine and beer that the neighbors brought with them, but no one was drinking any.

"Melissa," said my neighbor, shaking his head, " you can't 'offer' people things. You have to give it to them!"

He's right. For the past two years I've sat on the receiving end of whatever my insistent hosts managed to put on my plate or pour in my glass. [Hint: always too much.] So, I picked up a stack of cups and a bottle of wine and made the rounds. For those that didn't want wine, I came back with beer. For those that didn't want beer, I came back with vodka. Finally, for the kiddos, carbonated water.

Making a spectacle of myself in this way garnered cheers and encouragement from my friends and neighbors, plus approval in the "like that, yes, good" statements from all sides of the fire.

The next day I was riding a city bus and I heard my neighbor's voice. Perhaps she saw me before I saw her, but the sentiment is the same. I recognized her voice because she was telling another woman about this great party she went to the night before. This American girl served the most delicious kind of fish and cooked vegetables on the grill instead of meat.

I.LOVE.MY.NEIGHBORS.

Rather than having a prom and graduation ceremony on separate occasions, the local high school orchestrates a one night affair to take care of both events.

In the school's auditorium, 94 graduates received their diplomas in front of their friends, families, and teachers. In Moldova, classes are divided up into small groups based on their track of study. For instance, classes 12-A and 12-B are "humanists" and 12-4 are "realists," which is a more science-based course load. Class 12-C is pictured above, receiving their diplomas from their homeroom teacher. After each class received their diplomas, they presented a few poems or songs. The homeroom teachers also spoke about their students, wishing them happy trails.

After the ceremony, students, teachers, and even a few parents made their way to the fanciest wedding hall in town. I suppose technically, it's a "banquet hall," but everyone just calls it a wedding hall since that is the most important event in Moldovan culture. Here, Doina and I are waiting to go into the party. The flowers I'm holding were given to me by a graduate I don't even know. Practicing her English, she said, "We thank you for coming to our [high school]. Thank you very much." I reciprocated in English, congratulating her on her graduation. Later that night, my new acquaintance came in handy when looking for a friendly face in the hora circle (see video).

Like at Moldovan weddings, there was feast accompanied by live music, hora dancing, and a generally good party all night long. This video is a perfect portrayal of the night. I.LOVE.THE.HORA.

Spicy carrots/marinated carrots/sweet carrots are pretty much a staple in Moldova. You can buy a small package of them for around 8 lei (~$0.80). They are a delicious, sweet, and tangy side dish to any meal. Recently, my Ukrainian neighbor Tatiana taught me to make them from scratch. I promise you it takes no more than 15 minutes to make a whole kilogram of this wonderful deliciousness. By popular demand, I'm posting the instructions here.

Step 1: Peel and grate your carrots. This particular grater was a gift from Tatiana, you can find them at any piata/market. What makes it unique is the squared form it gives to the carrots as you grate them.

Step 2: Heat the carrots in an oiled pan. Of course, our Moldovan friends will pour a centimeter of oil in the pan and call it a splash, but take control! This goal here is not to cook the carrots per say, but soften them up a pinch.

Step 3: Remove the carrots from the heat and put them in a large mixing bowl. Add as much pressed garlic as you can handle, salt, sugar, and vinegar. For one kilogram of carrots, I used two big pinches of salt (opa!), one tablespoon of sugar, and two tablespoons of vinegar. But Tatiana pretty much said, do whatever you like! I think you could also use garlic salt/powder easily too.

Step 4: Add your spices. At the piata in Balti (the indoor area), the woman in the center of the building selling mixed fruit and spices has a pre-made "spicy carrot mix." The label is written in Russian, but she speaks Romanian too. I think the mix is 80% paprika (does that really have flavor?), plus some thyme, sesame seeds, and pepper. I bought a few extra portions of this to take home, but again, you can put in whatever your taste buds desire!

Step 5: There is no step five. Pofta buna!

Understand: Like the word "gypsy" is used in English to refer to a Roma person with rather derogatory connotations, the word "țigan" is used in Romanian to refer to a Roma person who supposedly lies, cheats, and steals.

A year ago, a girl at the youth council started a new relationship with a Roma boy and was teased mercilessly for it. Ignorance is rampant all over the world, no doubt about it.

Hence, a few Peace Corps Volunteers recently ignited a new effort specifically dedicated to increasing understanding and respect toward Roma people in our communities. This group calls itself RISE: Roma Inclusion, Support, and Education.

Almost a year from the day I first heard that ignorant language at the youth center, RISE came to facilitate a workshop on stereotypes and Roma culture. The workshop required participants to learn definitions of key terms, identify their own prejudices, and learn about the Roma communities in Moldova.

All throughout the workshop, I could see the kids either a) wanting to believe whole-heatedly everything the facilitators told them, or b) wanting to argue every point the facilitators told them. Result you ask? Great discussions all around.

Here are a few of the key learning points, paraphrased:

Boy: I don't think this 'Roma' word is correct because I've never heard it. We say 'țigan.'Facilitator: Roma is correct term. Ask a Roma person and that is what they will identify as.'

Girl: This is all so hard to believe because all our lives, we are taught that these people are this way, or do that. Then, when my father was taken advantage of by a Roma person, we say 'look, he's Roma and he did this.Facilitator: But I bet a lot of Moldovans have also stolen too.

Boy: Discrimination means treating someone wrong because of who they are or what group they belong to.Facilitator: You are going to be a great president some day!

Among the attributes that makes Peace Corps a unique agency is the fact that we only go where we are invited. We work in partnership with local government and civic organizations at their request, not our own.

Peace Corps' mission is to promote world peace and friendship. We do this by 1) helping people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women, 2) helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served, and 3) helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

In recognition of more than 1,000 Peace Corps Moldova staff and Volunteers' efforts to achieve this mission, Peace Corps Moldova was recently awarded an "Order of Honor" by Acting President Marian Lupu.

According to Moldpres on 24 June 2011: "Acting President and Parliament Speaker Marian Lupu signed a decree decorating the U.S. Peace Corps in Moldova with the Order of Honor as a sign of profound gratitude for distinguished contributions towards economic, social and cultural development of the Republic of Moldova."

To me, the news this week serves as a reminder of that invitation to serve in Moldova. Moldovan people want us here to help prepare them for their future and foster cultural exchange.

Thank you Moldova for your support and partnership!

One of my colleagues in Moldova used to coach a girls softball team. Her team sent her a bag full of equipment recently, and she is traveling all around Moldova with it this summer--spreading love of the game one village at a time!

This week I traveled down south to Gagauzia and a neighboring raion to help out with a three-day softball camp. Waking up at 06:30 to go play ball before the heat melted us away was amazing. Three perfect summer days.

On the first day we managed work in two sessions. One in the morning which Vanea (the boy squatting in the center of this photo) attended, and one in the evening, when Vanea came back with the rest of the boys pictured.

I have to say, I did pick favorites, the two small boys standing next to me (Dima and Vanea) came to the field with a soccer ball and quickly joined our game. They were quick learners and generally enthusiastic. Dima even took the opportunity to practice his Romanian with me. See the previous link for Gagauzia and you'll understand why Romanian is not his first language.

The second day, the Peace Corps Moldova Volunteers headed to a neighboring district to teach another group of youth about the game. Most of the participants there are part of a sports club run by Coach Mihail (pictured in red). Here is where my colleague who's traveling around Moldova is really making a difference. Not only were the kids learning the game, but this educator took the time to understand the rules, wrote them down, and even kept score. Transfer of skills and knowledge? I think so!

The sports club boys are natural athletes and picked up the easily, but there were still a few reoccurring phenomena of note:

1) Moldovans often "squat" in a very low position when they are tired of standing. All too often this meant that the person playing second base, by which I mean ON second base, was seen squatting on his perch.

2) Lots of football/soccer experience creates certain habits. Catchers and shortstops alike were stopping grounders with their feet, then reaching for dead balls. One time a second baseman stopped a grounder on his shin, realized with sincere discomfort that he was not wearing shin-guards, and that he had a perfectly good piece of leather in his hand that might do the trick!

3) We had a particularly difficult time getting across that only one player can be on a base at a time. So, when a batter would round first, sometimes he's smash into a teammate still standing on second. Mass confusion would ensure as to which direction everyone was supposed to be going to avoid force-outs.

Finally, on the third day, we brought the kids from the first village, to the second village, and fielded a game between the two. Even though one village's team dominated the other, we still went on to mix the teams and play a few more innings before the day was done.

Big thanks to the organizers of this camp who let me be a part of it. I had a fantastic time! Multumesc! Spaseeba! Merci! Thank you!

Here are some of the fruits of my labor this week (pun absolutely intended here). This morning I picked what I hope will be the last of the sour cherries, but chances are my host mom will find another sketchy ladder/branch combination for me to try out as we attempt to reach the highest fruits on our trees. Picking fruit for my host mom became my sole duty this week.

It's one of those things you have to time just right. If you pick the sour cherries too early, then well...they are S-O-U-R! If you wait an extra day to pick them, they get too sweet, soft, and rot quickly on the branch. At least, that is what she tells me as I pick cherries from the highest rungs of our three-legged ladder and she eats to her heart's content from the bucket five feet below me. I did manage to fall off the ladder once this week...ouch.

On the plate, clockwise from the top, are the sweet, sour, and black cherry varieties I've harvested this week.

The fall from the ladder earned me an afternoon off, but the next morning we started again on the neighbor's sweet cherry tree. We didn't have to take our three-legged ladder with us, my host mom said, citing that the neighbor has her own we could use. Turns out, that wooden ladder has one leg and resembled a Pogo stick that can't bounce.

Again, I worked while my host mom feasted. When a particularly soft and juicy fruit suddenly fell on her shoulder and left a red stain on her shirt (to which I was oblivious), she called up: "Hey, what did you do that for?" Then left me on the Pogo stick that can't bounce to finish the work. As I said in the post Weekend with the Popas, my friend Aura and I recently made a sour-cherry pie. Someone snapped this picture right as the serving began. A little juicier than desired, but the almond extract my Granny sent last fall made a great touch. Today, Aura's older sister has invited me over to help make a sweet cherry pie. Wish us luck, my pie crust skills leave much to be desired.

Irinia: "We have an invitation to attend a discrimination seminar in Chisinau."

Cristina: "What's discrimination?"

Melissa: "Discrimination is when you deny someone something because of who they are. In America, we pride ourselves on being diverse and respecting one another. But that wasn't always the case. In an ugly part of our history, we didn't let black people have things that white people used. Now look, we have a black president!"

Marcela: "Oh, ok. Like sometimes that still happens to gypsies."

Melissa: "Yes, but let's call them Roma, not gypsies."

Thirty minutes goes by...

Colea: "Marcela, you are only 14 years-old. You cannot be a trainer at the leadership course because you are too young and no one will listen to you. I will not listen to you."

Marcela: "I may be young, but I am the only graduate of the leadership course on the whole district council! And, besides, I've already taught these topics at other trainings."

Melissa: "Colea, are you discriminating against Marcela because of her age?"

All: "Yea! You can't do that!"

We'll readers, the end is near. The last post from Moldova is just about a month away, as I'll be jet setting for home, my kayak, and auntie time with my niece.

While a few small projects and day events do remain, most of my engagements for the next month are of the social variety. Take last Friday, for instance. I spent the afternoon teaching my 14 year-old neighbor, Aura, how to make a sour cherry pie. We picked cherries in the rain, pitted them in the kitchen, and baked the beautiful lattice-topped pie in my one and only cast iron frying pan. [Eat your heart out Teflan!]

Through the rain and thunder, dressed in inadequate sandals, and laughing the whole way, Aura and I managed to get the warm pie to her house just in time to watch her father start the barbecue. Aurel may not have a gas grill on a covered patio over looking a fairway, but this flame torch seems to do the trick on those corn cobs. Despite the heavy rain and thunder, Aurel managed to grill up some tasty chicken while Angela tossed a salad with fresh cucumbers and tomatoes from their garden. Good conversation and house wine flowed as per usual at the Popa house. The Peace Corps Volunteer who lives there had two family members visiting from Kansas, so I spent the night trying to show how much there is to appreciate in Moldova, explaining inside jokes, and thoroughly enjoying my time with a family of Moldovans that has been so good to me these past two years.

The Popa family then invited me, perhaps even insisted, to go with them the next morning to the capital city for their niece's graduation from dental school.

My favorite quote from a graduate speaking at the podium: "We are going to accomplish such beautiful things that the only things that could be more beautiful are the clouds we will pass on our way to heaven."Natasha's graduation from the State University of Moldova for Medicine and Dentistry was similar to graduation ceremonies in the United States. I appreciated how not every graduate walked across the stage to get diploma's, but they all stood at once together and changed their tassels from right to left.

Despite the rain, we did our best to show Doina and Aura (far left and far right, respectively) some of the highlights in Chisinau's city center. This was Aura's first trip to the city. She's 14 years-old and the farthest she's ever been from home was this 90 minute bus ride. In this photo we are standing in front of a monument in the city center.

Spending this day in Chisinau watching Aura try to be independent, always walking at least 20 meters ahead of the rest of her family, reminded me that being an awkward, confused teenager is pretty much the same experience universally. Thank goodness that's just a phase!

At Doina's insistence, our last stop before heading home was to Moldova's largest pizza chain. Neither of the girls had ever eaten at this chain, but Doina insisted, "Andy's Pizza is the best pizza in all of Moldova."

It would be unfair, inconclusive, and unsettling if I wrote about any of the electoral outcomes I have witnessed in Moldova. The mission of my organization is world peace and friendship. On a day-to-day basis, this rural youth-development worker is hardly ever impacted by the political climate of the country. I do not make any concerted effort to contribute to the marketplace of political ideas and solutions. I hear what I hear, read what I read, but tend not understand the implications of everything I'm told. I can practice empathy, but I'll leave economics of developing countries to the experts.

Yet, with local elections for mayoralties and city councils just around the corner, politics are starting to matter in the daily lives of my friends and neighbors. When I first started hearing the stories I'm about to share, my immediate response was to ask "What year is this?! How is this happening?!"

Thankfully, I took some time to unpack these stories and their implications before deciding to share them with you. I now understand my immediate reaction as ethnocentrism and ignorance at their worst. My reaction was ethnocentric because I recognized these stories as replications of history's hardships, and my socialization encourages progress to the point that we attempt (though not always successfully) to avoid those Polaroid-perfect hardships. My reaction was ignorant, because I though I have lived in Moldova for two years, American tax payers are very generous. Never do I think twice about buying bananas in winter, the Peace Corps doctors recommend it! Never do I worry about my house being cold, Peace Corps pays the bill! Though I have lived without many contemporary American comforts, it's not as if I truly had to make it on my own as my Moldovan friends and neighbors.

These stories were told to me by my host mother. Her political affiliation doesn't matter, because both of the political camps chose the methods she described. Let me say that one more time for clarity, both political camps are described below, using the exact same tactics.

First, she told me that our elderly neighbor (who would otherwise never leave home) took part in a political rally in a neighboring town this week. When my host mother questioned her about her motivates, she said the political party sponsoring that rally gave all the participants a chicken, fish soup, and half-liter of wine. She took the food in exchange for her support of that party.

This is when that ignorant reaction came into play.

The next night, my host mother said the same neighbor admitted she is conflicted about her vote. She really needed that chicken from the rally and committed to voting for that party. But now a different party is offering other goods to potential voters. This party is giving away sacks with a kilogram each of rice, sugar, and flour.

Again, ignorance and ethnocentrism came shooting up my spine, flooding my thoughts with images of Stalin, Animal Farm, and the hammer and sickle icon still hanging on many public buildings in town. But I'll say it again, both political camps are using this exchange of basic commodities for votes. It is not as red as this ignorant American would have assumed. It doesn't matter what party gave my neighbor a chicken and what party might give my neighbor flour. The news merely hit me in that shocking way that stops one mid-breath without knowing precisely why or if it should. The kind of news one must commit to understanding immediately, or it will be forgotten just as quickly.

I suppose hearing this news startled me because I understood it to be wrong, and the exact opposite of the progress my culture promotes. But then I thought, it doesn't matter what I think, I am neither a beneficiary or victim of these tactics.

The only thing I can really know is that a beneficiary of these tactics (my neighbor) is confused, and a victim of these tactics (my host mother) doesn't blame the beneficiaries for participating, but yearns for progress she sees other countries making on the evening news. "How can someone who watches the news still think that giving away bread is something we do to earn votes in this modern year?" She asks, again and again.

I don't have an answer for her now, but try to explain that life isn't a sweet peach in America right now either. That's a lie. How can I honestly say that it's hard for the elderly in America right now too? How can I say medicine is expensive for them and that our government is arguing over how to care for them? I can't. Put in my neighbor's position, a chicken and kilogram of flour would sound pretty good to all of us.

Go ahead, call me privileged and pretentious. The former I am learning to accept, the latter is what makes people write blogs in the first place.

Meet Irina and Marcela, president and vice-president of the Local Youth Council. These two young ladies are standing in the Peace Corps Volunteer lounge the morning of GLOW's workshop on "How to run a youth empowerment camp." They wanted to attend this workshop to see what new ideas they could take back to the council for this summer's upcoming leadership course.

Dozens of other Moldovan youth and Peace Corps Volunteers came to the workshop with similar intentions. School ends next Tuesday and then summer camp season will officially commence! This year, GLOW is focusing on a local day camp model, encouraging Peace Corps Volunteers to work with local partners to hold day camps in their communities. Day camps, unlike overnight camps, do not require transportation and boarding costs that sometimes prohibit camps from actually taking place.

At the workshop, participants learned about the logistics of running a summer camp, how to finance a camp, potential activities, instructional topics, and the wide-range of resources available from our partner organizations. The workshop was an all-day commitment and the room was stifling, but enthusiasm remained high for most of the day. As with similar events, this workshop provided time and space for ongoing experience exchange throughout the day and camp organizers learned from one another's stories.

At the workshop, I facilitated a session on local fundraising. I've delivered this session five times in the last ten months, but I think this was my last. As it turns out, one of the Moldovan camp organizers and a Peace Corps Volunteer in attendance at this session heard my talk before and were able to tell me about their local fundraising efforts since we saw each other last. That feels good!

When I joined the local fundraising movement two years ago, things were a little more challenging. I'll never remember the first people to come "taste" our chocolate chip cookies, say thank you, and walk away without making a donation to our cause. But now, penny wars are one of the most popular ways to raise funds in a school. Benefit discos are organized for teens, tweens, and children alike. Local fundraising might be the only grassroots movement I've ever participated in successfully.

Once again, big THANK YOU to the organizers of this workshop!

On my soon to be [host] sister-in-law's birthday, all gathered in her family's home for a six-hour dinner party that was much more about her upcoming wedding than her last birthday as a maiden.

In this first photo the bride's father is standing near the center of the table, offering a toast to the couple sitting across from him. He served this night's guests the wine that he will serve at the wedding, of which he has already purchased 60 liters.The couple he is toasting will serve as as the godparents of the newlyweds, an Eastern Orthodox tradition. It is their role to counsel the newlyweds, and with that role comes a few wedding day duties as well.

The negotiations were textbook:

Father of the Bride: "I want you to be really active at the wedding; give lots of toasts, lead dances, and basically never sit in a chair."

Godparent: "Well, I'm not much of a public speaker, but I can dance."

F: "Be really active."

GP: "How about the first speech and a few dances."

F: "Deal! I knew we could come to an understanding about these things. Let's have a drink."

After the meal with so many courses I lost track, and sometime after dusk started turning into dark, the mother of the bride (pictured above, third from the left) took the women on a tour of her home. After seeing the bedrooms, garden, and cellar, the tour ended in the kitchen where "woman talk" continued for a least an hour. Basically, until my host brother came looking for his bride (pictured above, second from the left).

The bride's teenage sister (first on the left), told me a few secrets about the dress she helped her sister find. She might be more excited than the bride, saying with great excitement, "She only gets married once!"

After dessert and a surprise serving of Greek coffee (they really should teach this to their fellow Moldovans), the bride's sister played a few pieces on the piano, much to her protest and Father's persistence.

I recently spent a weekend at my host brother's vila (by which, I refer to a vacation home, outside the capital city, on a lake). It is experiences like this that bring to mind the "Posh Corps" label many Peace Corps Volunteers all over the world self-apply when their service fails to resemble the savannas and stricken poverty that appears so restlessly in Peace Corps promotional material.

The vila sits on about an acre of land, complete with gardens, a hammock tied between two cherry trees, the two-story house, a large covered patio, and a cellar full of homemade spirits. I wish I could tell you that the house does not have indoor plumbing, good windows, or electricity. But it really does have it all...and then some.

After three servings of sour-cherry liquor for breakfast, my feet took me just far enough to reach one of the big beds on the second floor. The walk in the woods and flower picking would have to wait until the afternoon. My host family says the vila is a place to relax, but like an amateur, I had not anticipated the relaxation to be substance induced. Silly me.

Perhaps I should have put this photo at the top of the post. Perhaps it could have hooked the reader. Perhaps it explains more about my host country's obsession with beauty and order than I or any other blogging volunteer could accurately convey.

Three men, one ladder without legs, and a power tool.

All you need to know is, what happened to this tree to give it the look of pom-poms on a stick, was done to it on purpose.

The Preparation

My neighbor, Zina, came to use our electric meat grinder the day before Memorial Easter. While I nibbled on a cabbage salad and she worked on her three-meat meatballs, she recalled her husband’s predictable words in the days leading up to a major holiday.

“This doesn’t make any sense.” He would tell Zina. “You are so busy making food for two days from now that you don’t have time to give me something to eat today!”

And such was the scene in our kitchen the day before Memorial Easter. Maria was fixing to stuff the lamb. A neighbor, also Maria, was wrapping cabbage rolls (sarmale). Zina went on grinding away at her pork, beef, and chicken mixture. I stuffed miniature crepes with sweet cheese and exactly two raisins each. Eventually, my host mom gave me the order to make a cabbage salad for us to eat while we worked.

Celebration in the cityThe morning of Pastele Blajinilor (Memorial Easter) we raced to the cemetery in our town. The priest was to arrive around 09:00 and Maria was anxious to get her husband's grave blessed as soon as possible so that we could make it to her village celebration as well. We succeeded in getting our grave blessed first because of my host brother's close friendship with the priest's son (uh, Catholicism take note?).

In the photo above, people are lined up around a long table with their food and wine, ready for it to be blessed and offered to others on behalf of the souls of the departed. Eastern Orthodoxy dictates that the fate of the souls of the dead are the responsibility of the family. Rituals are carried out on behalf of the dead to assure their eternity in heaven. Celebration in the VillageThroughout this post, readers might notice the tables and benches in the cemetery. Typically, each family has a table near the cluster of gravesites they maintain. Here's a shot of my immediate family and host cousins in the village cemetery.

We stayed in the cemetery for a few hours visiting with cousins and taking part in the rituals. Each grave is decorated with bowls of bread, candy, and red-colored eggs before the priest blesses the grave. Then the family gives away these bowls, often accompanied with a shot of wine, "on behalf of the soul of [insert name]." Thus, many Peace Corps Volunteers in Moldova will tell you this holiday is something akin to trick-or-treating. I always go home with a small collection of dishes and stash of chocolate treats.

Just like last year, we spent the afternoon at Granny Liuba's house. We had a huge meal, and spent the afternoon relaxing, playing games, and watching my three-year-old host-nephew plant onions in the garden (see above slideshow captions for commentary).

In this picture, Vitalie (my oldest host brother) and I are playing with our food. It's a simple game, smash your boiled egg on someone else's and see whose egg implodes. Yet another thing America kids miss out on because they prefer those plastic colored eggs instead of the regular ones.

My neighbor passed away on March 22nd. He was only 50 years old. As per Eastern Orthodox custom, we held a feast in his honor on the day marking 40 days since Misha's death. Alina, Misha's daughter, knocked on our door at 09:00, inviting us to the feast that was about to begin. Just then the priest came to bless the home. By 09:15, we were taking our first glass of wine toasting Misha, "May God forgive him. May we live to memorialize him."

Given the early hour, our hostess was not too persistent with wine, though the World Health Organization's recent assessment of Moldova as the world's largest consumer of alcohol did come up in conversation. Usually, people tell me the report's not true: "How could they know how much I take from my cellar?" or "But what about the Russians?!" But on this morning one woman offered a completely original response. With a single shake of her head and her right hand passing from one side of her body to the other she said, "Eighteen liters? That's nothing."

Not that Praznics are usually happy feasts, but this one was particularly tough to swallow. The room was just barely filled with our neighbors and Misha's colleagues from the local water-bottling plant. But his son is away in Siberia, working. His daughter is home caring for her ill mother, despite she herself having a rough time with her first pregnancy. Misha was the glue that held that family together, Dumnezu sa l-ierte!

I just got back from a week down south, helping implement a World Map Project. A fellow volunteer started this project just before she needed to leave the country for a family emergency. So while I went down to help her partner (Liliana) finish the project, her whole community essentially adopted me as their own for the week. More times than I can count, people called me by the former volunteer's name rather than my own--a sure sign that she is missed!

I arrived the Monday following Easter, better known as "a doua zi de pashte" or "the second day of Easter." No one goes to work on the Monday following Easter, it too is considered a holiday. Thus, upon my arrival in the village at 17:00, Liliana and I immediately went to the Baptist Church where her husband (Roma) is the minister.

Ninety-seven percent of Moldovans are Eastern Orthodox. Protestant churches are both rare and grossly misunderstood. Most Moldovans say that the Baptists are not Christians. I've challenged this point a few times, but usually for the sake of not making enemies in my community, I look for an exit from the conversation before my opponent gets too dedicated to the argument.

This was my first time being invited to a Baptist church in Moldova, though I have always wanted to go and see how it compares to the Orthodox services. At the Orthodox services, practically everything the priest says is sung. Words are modified to rhyme and reflect a more perfect meter. Though I tend to understand the meaning of things, never have I understood word for word what was being said as I did at my visit to the Baptist church. What a thrill it was to understand, word for word, the Easter stories in a language as beautiful as Romanian!

And so went my week. Tuesday we went to the forest for a picnic with many of the Baptist ministers from the region, and their families. I understood everything that was said, and unlike the Orthodox Moldovans, who attend to rituals more than anything else, my hosts actually picked up their Bibles and read passages for themselves. I understood the words of the prayers before we took every meal. I understood when the pastors discussed their youth programming, fundraising strategies, and outreach efforts. It was everything you think a church picnic would be, just replace your English with my host country's Romanian.

When I wasn't at the school working on the project, I spent most of my time with Liliana and Roma's family. We visited Roma's village where I met the mayor, Roma's family, and visited the local pasta factory. We watched YouTube videos, ate really quick meals because we were perpetually running late, and drank evening tea. I fell absolutely in love with their two-year old, Diana. Last time I saw her (November 2010) she was so shy she would barely look at me. This week, the case was exactly the opposite, as I started responding to calls for "Tanti Melissa."

Given that Liliana and Roma have a full house, I actually spent my night's at another family's house. A very large house for a very large family. I participated in their second day of Easter feast. Since many people weren't eating meat in the weeks leading up to Easter, I think people are going a little protein crazy these days. On Monday alone I was served the following meats: roasted duck stuffed with fruit chutney, stuffed goose, egg-batter fried chicken, pork stuffed cabbage rolls, and roasted lamb.

My host adamantly insisted that I drink (and like!) his house wine. With only a single ingredient, grapes, he said it's the best juice around and sent me home with a two-liter bottle of his two-year-old white wine on the condition that I tell you all that wine in Moldova is delicious!

Finally, on my last night in the village, I visited my friend's former host family. Luda, the host mother, is particularly upset that her volunteer had to leave so suddenly and misses her very much. We spent the night eating all of that volunteer's favorite foods and recalling stories of her time and work in the village. They hope to have the chance to host another volunteer soon. They wanted to have their picture taken with this teddy bear the volunteer left behind, which the grandson now adores and dresses in his own clothes.

The day I left the village was, again, a family affair. Five adults and two kids total, we squeezed into a sedan that we push started more than once. Took it as far as the district center, where we swapped vehicles with Roma's brother. Taking his van in exchange for the car, we proceeded on to the capital city where Liliana and Roma had errands to run.

A trip to the city is an adventure for the kids, and we didn't part ways until after we celebrated (much to the children's benefit and delight!) the completion of our project over pizza, soda, french fries, and ice cream.

When a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer had to urgently leave the country, she wasn't able to finish the World Map Project she initiated in her community. The World Map Project is a worldwide Peace Corps initiative that began in 1988. A Volunteer in the Dominican Republic was struggling to teach her geography lessons without materials, and thus resorted to painting the map directly on the wall of her classroom.

I traveled to my friend's former village this week to help her community implement the project. Through a penny war, the students raised close to 300 USD, enough to re-finish a wall and buy all the necessary supplies to paint a map in their main corridor. Though I was rather intimidated by this project, my friend's former partner (Liliana) and I found the Peace Corps' World Map Handbook extremely easy to follow. We even finished the project hours ahead of schedule.

We spent the first day reading the manual and organizing our plan. Day two we made a grid on our map to make the sketching of the countries practically fool-proof and started painting. According to the manual's color-coding, Russia was painted yellow, Ukraine red, and China pink. If you are eager to make a political joke about the color coding, too late. I've heard them all this week!

By the end of the third day, we had every country painted and came back the next morning to make last minute touches and let two girls from the eighth grade scribe the names of each country.

I could not be happier with the results of this project. I was a skeptic at first. Had no idea what I was doing. How could I help with a project I knew nothing about? But now I am seriously considering doing a World Map Project in my own community. I owe a big THANK YOU to the other volunteers who gave me advice along the way. You know who you are!

For the play-by-play of Orthodox Easter, click over to my post from last last year. I hope that post and the pictures below convey the high regard I hold for Orthodox Easter in Moldova--two of my favorite days in my whole service. The Easter customs and traditions in this faith community are some of the most beautiful things I have ever seen.

Think of a family-friendly Christmas movie in which, perfectly, the entire town carries candles to the central square and carols around a large Christmas tree. Fast-forward from that scene to Easter, and there you have it. Easter in my community means that the church courtyard is filled with warm smiles, anticipation, and candle-light.

It means that adults and children alike will squeal when the holy water landing on their faces chills their bones. It means the number of meals in a day will double. It means that sun will shine (at least that has been my luck) and we will go to the cemetery to be with those we loved and lost. It means we will greet an unusually high number of strangers we pass on the way. This is Easter in Moldova.

*Big thanks to my host brother, Sergiu, who spent his last two Easters teaching me everything I've shared in these posts. Merci mult, Serji!

Nelly Ciobanu's "Hora din Moldova" was the most popular song on the radio and television when I arrived in Moldova two summers ago. Now, it's impossible to attend a wedding or town celebration without dancing a hora to this song. It was the song "chosen" by Moldovans to represent their country in the 2009 Eurovision competition.

I have to include the quotation marks in that one because I have had more than one conversation with Moldovans about how the voting in this competition is often inherently skewed to those in the cities with access to things like the internet. Since most of the voting during the international competition takes place by phone, more than one person has expressed to me that Moldova's chances of winning this competition are inevitably wedded to the country's economic well-being. Perhaps when enough Moldovans are earning a disposable income, and are able to make those expensive phone calls, Moldova will garner more votes and win the chance to sing in the final round.

Eurovision is a televised, annual song competition that began in 1956 under the management of the European Broadcasting Union. During the summer, every pub not showing a football game on the flat screen, will be tuned to the Eurovision competition. Most songs are mostly or all in English, as participants are probably trying to become the next ABBA. Eastern Europe loves ABBA. The group got it's big break when it won the Eurovision competition in 1974.

Zdub si Zdub, one of the most popular musical troupes in Moldova, will return to the Eurovision competition this year. Making it into the top 10 songs, Zdub si Zdub represented Moldova's first entry in the competition, in 2005. I don't actually like this year's entry, but here I've included that 2005 song about a granny who liked the drummer.

According to Orthodox tradition, today is "Buna-Vestire," Catholic readers might recognize this day as the Annunciation of the Blessed Virgin Mary. It is the celebration of the day in which the Angel Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she would give birth to the son of God.

The Buna-Vestire falls right in the middle of the Easter fasting. Those who are holding the fast are eating strictly vegan diets (which at the end of winter, with no fresh produce, is a really big commitment. I can't say I know many young people who do hold fast). Ironically though, Buna-Vestire is considered to be one of the 12 major feasts of the Orthodox Calendar.

Fast holders and pretenders alike will celebrate today by a one-day exception to the fast, eating as much fish as they like. My host Mom bought her fish supply a couple days ago. She hasn't kept fast (she made it like 27 hours until she broke down to cheese and meat again). My host aunt kept the fast for about a week or so, a common gesture in these parts. My host grandma is still a devout observer, and my neighbors and friends at the Popa house will probably eat fish today because they like it so much, but they plan to observe the fast next week.

This week, fish stalls at the market have been the envy of all other providers. Happy feasting, everyone!

My youth council has been working really hard. So I invited them for an afternoon of games. When I pulled out the Twister board, Rodica (pictured below, left) got so excited and said she saw this game in an American movie.

A big thank you here to my family, who sent me the game as a Valentine's Day gift. Muah!

Last fall, a number of my Peace Corps colleagues started asking questions about my youth council. What is a council? How is it different than a volunteer club? Can I come visit? Thus, we developed the following program to both educate Volunteers about the council model and provide a space for an experience exchange between two youth councils and the Peace Corps community.

The GuestsFrom the Peace Corps community, I first invited another Volunteer working with a Local Youth Council in a neighboring district. She and three of her most active council members came to help us convey the essence of the youth council model. In this picture, the visiting youth council is presenting our President with a medallion and pennant from their city.

Other Peace Corps guests included Volunteers working with civic education curriculum, and those interested possibly starting a youth council in their villages.

Part One: Youth CouncilsIn the first half of the program, both my youth council and the members of the visiting council discussed their activities. In true contemporary Moldvan fashion, each group presented picture slideshows of their favorite activities. My council also showed a short video, with a Mandy Moore song for a soundtrack that makes you...well....pray for it to end quickly.

As if anticipating the day's second act, I watched as the presentation to Peace Corps guests, about council activities, soon turn into a series of discussions between the two councils about how each group pulled-off their respective activities.

Lastly, my youth council presented their summer leadership course model, the best youth program I have seen in Moldova yet (credit to a previous Volunteer, not me). This is an 8-week course taught by youth, for youth. Each year's graduates are given the chance to be trained as trainers for the next year, making it an incredibly sustainable event. Since the program's initial success via a small grant, the district and city councils continued to fund it annually, no questions asked, no grant applications.

Coffee BreakAlmost every Moldovan event comes with a coffee break. Ours was very typical, instant coffee and tea made available with hot water from an electric kettle, cookies, chocolates, and pastries. Naturally, as the group migrated to coffee break, it settled into three distinct communities: my youth council on the couch, the visiting council at one end of the table, and Peace Corps Volunteers at the other. But, since I happen to work with the best youth around, Victor volunteered to provide a mixer, resulting in the activity shown above, mixing the participants and providing an opportunity to present a united presence via a perfect circle.

Part Two: Experience ExchangeThe goal of part two was to generate as many ideas as possible. Additionally, since the Peace Corps guest learned so much from the youth in part one, this was a way for them to give back a little, and provide examples from their own experience in clubs and organizations.Using a very simple rendition of the Open Space Technology, we brained stormed a list of topics, chose three (recruiting volunteers, maintaining and motivating volunteers, and promoting youth talent), and divided into small groups.I loved watching these small group discussions. Frequently, expressions of intimidation (upon hearing about another's success) turned to curiosity, and finally enthusiasm crossed the faces of those most engaged in the discussions.

After 20 minutes of sharing experiences and ideas, each group reported their notes (which each participant will receive an electronic copy of), and we closed the day with our Local Youth Council secret clap, the one we use to finish every event at our council. Though, I guess that gave away our secret...

About 18 months ago I attended a conference with all the other Peace Corps Volunteers in my program. There was one Volunteer, Becca, who was in the middle of compiling a local fundraising book and looking for a group of volunteers to pass the project on to when she finished her service. Before she left, Becca compiled information from more than a dozen local fundraising activities done by Volunteers (see our Wine Day Bake Sale), including what the activity was, the target group, tips for others, and a short narrative of the experience.

Getting involved in this project was one of the most decisive moments in my service. Another Volunteer and I took over the Romanian translation of the book, which was finished in time for it to be printed for every Peace Corps Volunteer and his/her partner by the In-Service Trainings, in winter 2010. We again distributed it during the Pre-Service Training for new Volunteers, made it available online to all Peace Corps Moldova Volunteers, and distributed printed copies at the same winter In-Service Trainings to Volunteers and Counterparts. Somehow, getting involved in this project meant that the rest of my service I would continue to promote the use of local fundraising throughout my service.

During the summer, I spoke with the new Volunteers in my program about the differences between local fundraising in the United States and Moldova. First of all, it is a completely new concept in a civil society that developed on a grant-to-grant budgetary model. Because it is so new, it takes a lot more publicity. One of the four best-practices we've developed is to "Talk it up!"

We have to tell our community:Before--what we plan to do and whyDuring--what we are doing and whyAfter--what we have done and how the community contributed

The Volunteers that arrived last summer are no longer "new," as they are biting into the absolute flesh of their service right now. Over the last couple months I've spoken with Volunteers and their partners at In-Service Trainings about the best-practice above and the three others we've developed: define the budget, be an accountable team, and be transparent. At these trainings we distributed copies of the fundraising manual in English and Romanian. Very few partners have experience with local fundraising activities, but it would be an interesting project to sift through the records and find out just how many Peace Corps communities have used Penny War competitions to raise money for local schools, since Peace Corps arrived some 19 years ago.

Yesterday, what is soon to be dubbed "Melissa's Roadshow" had its debut with a completely Moldovan audience. I distributed the guide and facilitated a short workshop for university and college students who volunteer at Medicii Lumii, in their human-trafficking prevention program.

But to be completely honest, I'm just the one who ended up compiling the information. The grass-roots work is being done by so many other great volunteers. Check out this piece about an English Education volunteer that can't get her students to stop churning out new fundraising ideas.

On Saturday, Vice-President Biden visited Moldova, the final stop on his Eastern European tour. The largest (logistically speaking) event of the day was a 15 minute speech he gave in the public square in front of the opera house. People began arriving for the 14:00 speech at 08:30. Roads all throughout the city center were closed to pedestrian and motor traffic. Secret service agents patrolled streets, building roofs, and oversaw the security stations where metal detectors were operating on electricity tunneled in through thick orange cords.

Not sure how dedicated we were to the madness of the crowds (Peace Corps usually tells us to avoid them, not flock to them), my friends and I planned on a late arrival. Regardless if we didn't make it to the speech, we still had tickets to the meet-and-greet event afterwards. The first gate we came to was closed. The police officers said the area was full, no more entry allowed. But this is where I give a shout out to Boris, a Moldovan guest of one of my colleagues, who sweet talked the officers into letting in the Americans and their guest.

Next we made our way through the metal detectors, but were denied entry to the main viewing area. All full, said the police. So I picked a spot on the fence that still gave us a good view of the stage. A volunteer came by and gave me a paper Moldovan flag to wave, and we were fairly content with the cards we'd been dealt. Moments later, a Peace Corps Volunteer on the other side of the fence said, "come with me," and back at the same officer who said the area was full, we were given a free pass once more.

All told, we only spent about thirty minutes walking from the Peace Corps office to the stage, which is where we eventually ended up listening to the speech, directly behind the podium. This is a picture of Dr. Jill Biden arriving, she was looking at her feet as she walked, that is, until all the Peace Corps Moldova volunteers delivered a hearty, unison, "Welcome to Moldova!"

The full speech can be viewed on YouTube, or you can read the Associated Press coverage. Biden spent most of the time reassuring the Moldovan people and government that the United States intends to be its partner on the path towards democratization, not just of Moldova, but the whole region. He said the work won't be done until Russia too achieves this measure. On the recent world events, Biden said he was glad “to be here at this transformative moment in your history and quite frankly the history of the world. Freedom is in the air, and democracy is emerging in countries that for generations have known nothing but authoritarian rule.”

Given that I've spent a large portion of my service working in human trafficking prevention, I was very pleased to hear Biden attend to this issue several times throughout the day.

At the meet-and-greet event, the Ambassador introduced Dr. Jill Biden, who was the first to acknowledge the devastating events occurring in Japan. The event was only open to Peace Corps Moldova and the U.S. Embassy, so the children on stage are young Americans, many of whom I know have no recollection of ever being stateside.

At the end of the event, we all lined up to have a Peace Corps photo with the Vice President. He happened to stand right next to me, and I chose this photo because you can see that he was clearly engaged in a conversation with us. He says we have to ensure three things in this country 1) transparent government without corruption, 2) an end to the human trafficking crisis, and 3) free press.

When asked about the future of Peace Corps funding, Biden commented briefly on the political situation back home (I have completely missed the Tea Party phenomenon), and noted that it was his generation that started the Peace Corps; we have his support.

He also shared a few personal stories, thanked us for our work, and said what we have to continue doing is changing attitude each and every day.

Meet Justin and Rachel. Their story is much like the hundreds of others that you've heard about; the classic Peace Corps romance. They are one of two couples in my group about to tie the knot. As Justin would tell you, he planned to propose while riding on a camel during their winter vacation in Egypt. But he just couldn't wait and ended up popping the question as they did their laundry, on an average weekend at his site, and didn't even have the ring with him!

I am so glad these couples decided to organize their own engagement party and let us celebrate with them. It was a rather classy night on the town, and one of the first gatherings (of which I fear there will be many) marking the closing of our time in Moldova. Over cold pivo, conversations inevitably turned to who's attending which graduate program next year, who's taking a year to travel, and who's still trying to figure it all out.

We spent the evening toasting the happy couples in the only way we know how--Moldovan well-wishes include homes full of children, health, and happiness--and even dancing a huge hora to the live Irish music.

Congratulations to Justin, Rachel, Erin, and Petru! Toate cele bune!

Today was the second day in a row of absolute, unadulterated sunshine. Though it's probably too early to work on this year's freckles, I set out anyway to give it a try. These are just some snapshots from around town.

The sun feels amazing. Melt winter, melt!

For a little to over a year, I've been serving as a board member on a Peace Corps Moldova committee dedicated the issues of human trafficking and migration. Our primary work is to connect resources (which are concentrated in cities) to rural communities (through Peace Corps Volunteers across the country). I had no particular interest in these issues before I came to Moldova, but migration is such common fate for Moldovans that it was hard not to notice.

I work rather closely with a local branch of Medecinus de Monde (Doctors of the World), a French human rights organization. This organization's post in Moldova is a pilot program, the first in the organization's history to occupy itself with the issues of human trafficking. This office offers both assistance to victims, as well as a prevention program. I only work with the prevention staff, chiefly Cristina (pictured below). Cristina's volunteer program was named best in the country, in December 2010--an award they absolutely deserve.

Cristina and I have worked together to promote her organization's youth seminars among Peace Corps Volunteers. Last fall, we hosted a joint event with the Medecinus de Monde volunteers and the youth council in my town. We also held a small open house for Peace Corps Volunteers at her office, in October, where we discovered that more than one volunteer actually lives in a "priority location" for prevention programming. Months later, the seminar featured in this post is a direct result of that meeting.

On Monday, I traveled with Cristina and two of her college-aged volunteers to a village in my district that is denoted as one of the "priority locations." Thanks to the help of Rachel, a fellow PCV in that village, we were able to schedule two simultaneous seminars for ninth grade classes.

Now having seen the Medecinus de Monde seminars several times, I can practically recite the material by heart. First, Cristina helps the students come up with a working definition of human trafficking, followed by activities and discussions related to what trafficking looks like, the steps of trafficking, why people are trafficked, and how to prevent oneself from falling victim to it.

In this picture, Cristina is reviewing a drawing the students made of a trafficking victim. She is pointing out that while the students drew a sad, weak, and female victim (presumably trafficked for prostitution), there is a growing trend in male trafficking. I know this to be true from the reports I've seen, and as Cristina is discussing in this photo, male victims are typically those who go off to work three months at a time in Moscow, Russia and never get paid for their work. These men do not identify themselves as victims, but merely unlucky individuals who took a risk by taking an under-the-table job, and therefore do not often report their experiences to officials.

This class of ninth graders took all of 30 seconds to remind me why I hated junior high school, and I wasn't particularly certain the students would allow us to make progress. I ached for the five female students in the first row as their 15 other male classmates attempted to one up each other in all their ruckus. But I admit, I was too quick to judge. The best moment of my day was made by those who were the most disruptive students of all. At one point, towards the end of the seminar, Cristina recited the phone number of a 24 hotline, based in Chisinau. I wouldn't have guessed that these three boys in the back of the room were paying attention, but as Cristina recited the number a second time, all three boys took out their cell phones, and entered the number.

Whoa. That was a great moment.

Their story: Natalia goes to the United States on a “work and travel” visa and meets Casey at a barbeque. His mother introduced them. It’s love. Casey and Natalia get married in a small ceremony in the States, but save the real celebration for Moldova. Weddings really are great here.

As shown in the photos throughout this post, Natalia and Casey had their wedding in a very elegant, very modern Moldovan, wedding hall. This is the newest wedding hall in my town, and understandably the most popular. The photos also have great examples of Moldovan fashion, so look out for that too!

Having played the part of assistant to the maid-of-honor last summer, I was well prepared to go to this wedding and understand what was actually going on around me.

For instance, as we walked up the massive pho-marble staircase to the wedding hall, under a four-tier chandelier, I heard an unmistakable crescendo .

"Ha! Guys," I said to the three other Peace Corps Volunteers in attendance, "that music is for us. We are entering to the trumpets." Erika wanted to turn around and go home immediately.

A few times I took a moment to chat up the groom's mother. Once, while dancing the hora, I asked her what she thought of the hora. "What's a hora, dear?" She asked. Helping other Americans understand Moldova's intricacies, especially when you know they already have an appreciation or investment in the culture, is a thrill. Maybe the youth council doesn't always consider me an expert on leadership trainings. But Americans visiting Moldova pretty much consider those of us who live here, work here, and speak one of the local languages to be just that.

This wedding also conveys one of the things I am most proud of about my service: my community integration. I knew the chances were pretty high that I would know a few other people at the wedding. Of course Maria Crigan was there, Ion Crigan too. I took a turn around the dance floor with the Mayor. Katia (who I worked with before she left last January to join her husband in Italia) and I hugged immediately upon seeing one another. I am so happy we got the chance to see each other again. An eleventh grade girl and I sang all the words to one of the Moldovan songs that just happens to be on my i-pod. My partner from the district council, a middle aged man, apparently likes to boogey. And then there was the woman from the post office. Because I have experienced this part many times before, it's a sure bet that next time I go to the post office she will say, "You are the girl from Natalia's wedding."

We stayed until the "undressing of the bride," the custom marking the bride's transformation into a homemaker. Her veil is replaced with a head scarf and she sits on the groom's lap while the older women shower them in all the fixings for a home (blankets, towels, cookware, etc). But given that Natalia and Casey already have a home in Alaska, most people just took the chance to put some money in Natalia's head scarf. Oh, and right before this I caught the bouquet!

Congratulations, Natalia and Casey!

On our third day in Moldova, a colleague famously proclaimed that if things got awkward on his first night with the host family, then he'd just pretend it was a sitcom.

Lately, I feel like the writers need to visit my home and check out all the material I have for them. Here's a few examples of Romanian (as spoken in a home bursting at the seams with women) being translated back to English and just sounding plain ridiculous, or in turn, like one of those wholesome shows that gets cancelled after one endearing pilot season.

"Be healthy! Be a bride!"-Bunica (Grandma) Liuba's words every...single...morning.

"Laugh to live."-Bunica Liuba at the dinner table.

Me: "Maria, I had something I was going to tell you, but I forgot what."

Maria: "Okay, so go back to the last place you remember thinking about it and wait for it to come back."

...Maria calling from the kitchen to my room: "Melissa! Did you find that thing you needed to remember?"

Maria: "Are you sure you don't want me to make you fried toast before you leave on the bus, at 6 o'clock tomorrow morning?"

Me: "Yes, I'm sure. It's too early for me to eat."

Maria: "Hmmm...so you can't eat in the morning, huh. I can. No problem!"

Bunica Liuba, while interrupting her prayer to throw her hands in the air: "Look, Melissa is barefoot, again! I give up. She just must be one hot girl."

The PopaFamily celebrates for sixstraightmonths,from bothNewYears, andbothChristmases, through every single birthday.

Happy birthday, Aurel! Enjoy your new watch!

More than any other Moldovan/Eastern Orthodox tradition, I am particularly well acquainted with the praznic. I wrote about two of them previously (here and here), so I won't spend much time explaining this tradition.

A few things made this praznic different from others I have attended. Most obviously was the new people with whom I was meeting. I finally met Maria's in-laws. This praznic was held to mark the seven years since her mother in-law's passing. Since Maria's husband has also passed, it was host by her two remaining children.

The women in the room immediately greeted me with kind words and those imperative European cheek kisses. "Finally we meet you," they said. "Yes, Melissa. Like the tea plant, yes?"

After my host brother quizzed my Romanian skills in front of the whole table, he kindly informed me that his Uncle Galaction (pictured below in the suit, on the left side of the table) is the Secretary General for the Institute of Philology, at the State Academy of Sciences. He has a doctorate in Romanian! Doamne fereste!

As with any family gathering, the good-ol'-days stories, lubricated by house wine and brandy, eventually dominated the conversation. It just so happened that I arrived that morning in the capital city from this family's native county. I spent two days there facilitating a youth experience exchange. Hence, village tales were interrupted to explain to me where particular stories took place in relation to where I had just been.

On the whole, the stories told about Maria's Mother in-law were gracious and endearing. Her memory was revered by another of her daughter in-laws, as a hard-working, constantly in-motion, and attentive woman. Though, the stories of her two sons drinking milk straight from the source without their Mother's permission were all the more entertaining.

Though, as every village does, theirs also has tragic memories. According to Galaction, their village was particularly affected by Stalin's deportations in the late 1930s. Galaction said many people from their village were taken away in trains, fed only salt-cured fish and denied any water. Those who died along the way were never recovered, those who made it to Siberia only arrived to find hard daily work in the labor camps. Modern estimates put the total number of deportation victims around 90,000. For more on this history, click here. As Galaction spoke I was captivated, these are the moments when I wonder why the world doesn't seem to learn from it's past. Trail of Tears. Balkan wars. Holocaust. Rwandan genocide. Sudan. And all those others I don't even know occurred.

So as not to end the post on such a low note, and to get back to the story of the party. I'll leave you with this photo of my host brother and his fiancée. Let the world know the date is set! October 14, 2011 these two will finally tie the knot, in Chisinau, on the same day as the city's hram. Felicia said she hasn't started looking for a dress yet, but will do so just as soon as the weather smartens up, in spring.

Meetings with new people seems to be my elixir of choice these days. I can't seem to leave one of these parties without a rejuvenated sense of in this place.

Recall my trip to Zachariah's village last December. The purpose of my trip was to facilitate a youth experience exchange between Zachariah's youth group and another youth group in a neighboring village, led by PCV Shannon. Both of these volunteers are facilitating youth initiatives according to the Public Achievement curriculum.

The previous attempt to have the event was cancelled due to a blizzard, literally. But this time we pulled it off and had a lot of fun doing it. Big thanks to Zach and Shannon for the invitation!

The PurposeThe goals of a youth experience exchange (Schimb de experienta) are rather simple; to give the youth a chance to share their ideas and intentions, learn from one another's experience, and foster new acquaintances.

On the bus ride from the first village to the village were the event took place, we couldn't help but conclude that this afternoon outing was one of the few "field trips" these kids have been awarded. The distance from one village to the other is just 15 minutes by bus, but as a student group, the practice of visiting another group is not yet venerated like the countless youth exchanges an American student leader might attend during his/her high school career.

Standard BeginningShannon's facility was a great place to have our event, and after her director and the mayor of the village said a few introductory words, the director introduced the first activity: Human Bingo.

Up until that moment, as my colleague noted, the scene was so terrifyingly typical of high school students it made us cringe. The two groups took seats on opposing sides of the room, looking at the other group but trying as they might to pretend they have not a care in the world. Lipgloss shimmered off the shy smiles of almost every girl in the room, one boy wore a full suit, and though many of the participants introduced themselves as 18 year-olds, I hardly believed they could be 15.

Project AmbitionsEach of the youth groups is working on a community project. At this point, each group has identified a problem in their community and a potential solution. We wanted to give the youth an opportunity to discuss their projects and improve their solution proposals at the youth exchange.

Representatives from each of the groups gave a short presentation about the problems in their respective communities and their potential solutions. Shannon's group yielded the floor for Zach's group (the guests) to present first. Two of the youth described the problem their village: no place for the youth to congregate in their free time (very common opinion in Moldova). Their solution to this problem is to build a youth park, near the school. The youth showed off their sketch of the proposed park, as well as the results of a survey they did in their school, which speaks to the support they have from their peers in undertaking this initiative.

Shannon's group then spoke about the limited access to food in their school cafeteria, the problem they have chosen to attack. Their proposed solution, to provide a tea service service during class breaks, is having trouble attracting the necessary support.

TeamworkSince both of the groups are rather new, it seemed only appropriate that our interactive break from project analysis came in the form of a team-building activity. The human knot is a perfect way to do this, with groups who have never done it before, because they will participate in the debrief with sincerity. In order to continue the acquaintance building, we mixed the two groups together for this activity.

One team manage to complete the task of untangling themselves. When I asked the group how they succeeded, the common response was perfectly textbook, "We had to listen to everyone's ideas." (Thanks for playing, tell them what they win Bob!)

I asked the other group, which didn't manage to finish the task, if there was a clear leader in their group. "Yes!" They shouted, "Zach!" Hmmmm.... Project AnalysisKeeping the two groups mixed, but divided equally. We spent the next 20 minutes analyzing the project proposals. We decided to use an activity called "Driving Forces," that I found in a Peace Corps manual. It requires the participants to consider the "positive forces" propelling their project forward, and the "negative forces" pushing back the progress. Both groups needed to hear the truth, that they need support of other partners (school directors, other administrators, parents, etc) in order to succeed.

At the end of the day, two participants said that they learned something new about their project through this activity. Thus, my job was done and I went home a satisfied facilitator.

Diplomas, Pizza, and New Friends

At the end of the event, Shannon's director awarded each of the participants a diploma (very important in Moldovan culture). Though I somehow don't have a picture to prove to you...Shannon created beautiful diplomas complete with a photo of yours truly and the title "Moldovan Youth Facilitator." Shannon is amazing like that.

The Mayor of the town took a moment to speak again, awarding the Peace Corps Volunteers who participated our own diplomas too (pictures in the slideshow, above).

Then it was on to the pizza party, where we observed as the youth took it upon themselves to make sure there were youth from each village sitting at each of the tables. Way to go kids! Job well done!

After seeing how impressed youth from Shannon's group were with the youth from Zach's group, and vise-versa, I am once again convinced that experience exchanges are the way to go in youth development here. It hardly matters if I, an American, go to a group of youth and tell them they can be the change they want to see. If they hear it and see it being done by their neighbors, the youth are much more likely to believe that they can do it too.

In this picture, you can see my entire kitchen. Our townhouse is small, having exactly four rooms of almost equal size.

But in the village, the soul of Moldova, it is much more common for kitchens to be separated from the rest of the houses.

Below are some photos I snapped of a colleague's kitchen, while he prepared some scrumptious curried chickpeas for our dinner. We also made a couple trips to the cellar, where another colleagued risked the future use of his fingers by pulling pickles out of their freezing liquid with his bare hands. Ever heard of a fork, Mr. Laurie?

This kitchen is pretty typical of a village home. Since it's not actually in the house, to me it feels a little like cooking in the garage. Where my Dad might hang coiled extension cords and a collection of wrenches on a wall, this kitchen is bedecked with pots and pans.

It's also unheated. In the summer, that is a great method of keeping the home cool. In winter, it means we exchanged house slippers for regular shoes and I donned one of the thick winter vests for the duration of our cooking.

"The vest is better for cooking," explained my host when he brought me this vest instead of my coat, "no sleeves to get in the way."

Just like we should have anticipated, this meal (with two Moldovans and three Americans) quickly digressed into a tri-lingual spectacle that only we, Peace Corps Volunteers and our Moldovan friends, think is entertaining. Everyone arrived at the house that day from different locations, somewhat road fatigued and attempting to fight off the common cold. So, fits of laughter would quickly turn into fits of coughing, thereby inducing more laughter given that the coughing because of the laughter was just that hilarious.

"And that is why we are Volunteers," declared my colleague. "That is world peace and friendship, right there."

Humanity rather let me down a couple times this week, and a grumpy disposition was attempting to cut in on my usual, cheery demeanor, just when my host Mom came through the door and said, “Let’s make food! You put the water on to boil, and I’ll get the meat.”

Someday I’ll get the “Honey! I’m hooome!” kind-of caller, but for today, Maria and Fedorița were exactly what I needed. With grumpiness defeated in the end, I thought I’d relay a few of the topics that graced our typical dinner table tonight—mostly just a whole lot of humble pie with a side of comfort (in knowing our place in this little community of ours) and concern (for what is to come of said community).

Dinner conversations:[+] The astonishingly ridiculous idea that someone needed to rip out the heating system at Maria’s office, in the middle of winter, to build a wood/coal burning stove instead. Thus, leaving all the employees without heat, a custodial worker—because all the construction dust made her sick and she landed in the hospital--or the employee’s salaries for the last two months of work.

[+] The sad financial state of the state-owned bread factory where Maria is an accountant. Politics play a HUGE role here, but the latest analysis by the head of accounting at the firm says it’s going kaput no matter which party looks at it. The only way she sees the factory getting itself out of this morass is to close-up shop.

[+] Which neighbor is sick and what pills Maria gave her to try.

[+] Why I so thoroughly enjoyed teaching a course on local fundraising in Chisinau, yesterday a)people seemed to appreciate it, b) people were generally excited about it, rather than skeptical about its ability to produce “big” enough results *hint, not all assets are monetary*

[+] The email from Gregg, the first Peace Corps Volunteer to live with my host family. He is coming for a visit soon. Maria had tears in her eyes she was so happy.

[+] How I’m going to spend the last few months at my site, working with the youth council….or more correctly, how I need to dedicate serious thought to it before it slips away.

[+] The American idiom “He is talking just to hear his own voice.” Sorry, for my safety, I probably should not tell you who we directed one towards. Also, the Moldovan idiom, “That’s life!”

[+] The neighbor Fedorița walked home with today. Fedorița thought the walk would never end because the woman never stopped gossiping the whole way. Yes, “radio baba" is rather noisy.

Readers, serve up some of the outside dishes please! What did you and your families talk about at the last dinner table?

As I mentioned before the holidays, Yoel (another PCV living in my town) and I are starting to collaborate with a center for "socially vulnerable children." The beneficiaries of this center are sometimes abandoned by their families or sometimes families are unable to care for them. In either case, the idea is that is a short-term care facility. After their stay, children either go back to their families or to one of the new foster families in our district.

Yoel and I have been to the "Centru Raza Soaralui" or "Center of the Sun's Rays" a few times in the last couple weeks. Our first mission is to get to know the staff, the program, and the children. After we have a better idea of what they have and might need, the director is very eager to work with us in a development capacity. The first day we played a name game incorporating animal sounds, duck-duck-goose, and a handful of Moldovan games before the afternoon disintegrated into serious cross-examining from our little questioners.

As per their request, we came back a second day prepared to teach them a little something about America (Peace Corps' second goal, verbatim!). Yoel, prepared the history lesson--he can recite the names of all three of Columbus' ships from the 1492 voyage, in descending order by size--and I prepared to talk about my state when Yoel prompted, then do a demonstration of the "melting pot" metaphor.

Since we used the maps to explain how most American families descend from more than one culture, discussed the geography and corresponding recreational activities in different parts of the country (they drooled over the Olympic Mountains, pictured among those from my last day hike in Washington, Mount Ellinor, Memorial Day 2009), and even touched on where corn can and cannot grow in the United States, I think they understood that the United States is a big, diverse place.

Here's a fun fact I found preparing these activities, which clearly validates the continued use of the "melting pot" metaphor in the twenty-first century. According to the CIA World Factbook, the 2010 net migration rate in Moldova was -1.13 migrations/1000 people. In the United States, we welcomed +4.25 migrations/1000 people. Hence, Yoel and I repeatedly explained to these kiddos "we are a mixed people." What else is there to say?

My best friend called me at one in the morning to tell me the news. He, like other close friends and family know that Sargent Shriver became my hero after I read his biography, during my internship at the U.S. Public Service Academy.

In fact, the day after he was hospitalized, I treated my host family to a little history lesson at our dinner table. At one point, the conversation even turned to whether I could actually use the word "hero" to describe him. One said no, because I never met him. Another said yes, and used my history lesson and the fact that I am a beneficiary of the program he created to support her arguments.

All of the stories I shared about Shriver came from his 2004 biography by Stossel. I think all Peace Corps Volunteers should read it, but by now I am surely a broken record on that. Peace Corps Volunteers in Moldova can also go back to the September edition of the Grapevine, where I gushed admiration for Shriver and his biography.

I don't really know how to honor him, to celebrate his life and accomplishments. Please take a moment to watch this video. Only a 1,700 people have watched this clip on You Tube, but millions will watch dogs dance the macarana. I think we have a problem, but we'll discuss it another day...After seeing the video, I think it's relatively easy to understand why he once came to say, "Being accused of enthusiasm is something I'll never live down."

Rest in peace Mr. Shriver.

Shortly after the arrival of 2011, I took a three-day trip to Transylvania with three Peace Corps Moldova colleagues. This is a shot I snapped from inside the infamous Bran Castle. Heard of Dracula, anyone?

The border crossings between Moldova and Romania are frequented by Peace Corps Volunteers with relative ease, since most (but not all!) study the Romanian language during our Pre-Service Training. I say we are taught Romanian during training, specifically, because once we leave training, some volunteers find it necessary (or more desirous) to deviate their studies from clean-cut Romanian to "Moldovaneste." Discussing language can lead to a rather political argument, but we'll leave that for someone else to un-pack.

Put one way, it's village speak. Put another way, it is a dialect that makes it easy for Romanians at universities and tourist spots to pick out the Moldovans. Moldovaneste tends to include Russian nouns, 'b' sounds dropped for the grunting 'g' sound, and words for fruits and vegetables that you will not find in a Romanian nor Russian dictionary.

My host family and neighbors will sometimes ask me to speak Moldovaneste for sport, entertainment for the crew painting a fence, or as a sort of 'party trick' that gets new acquaintances laughing. But for the most part, I work and live in a place that is perfect for the Romanian I was taught and continue to study every.single.day.

Thus, traveling in Romania is appealing because it's a foreign culture that I neither live in, nor rely on English for during my visit. This trip was the longest consecutive stretch of time I've stayed in Romania, and as the days went by, so too did my confidence as a "Romanian" speaker.

Menus with foods I didn't recognize. Signs I couldn't fully understand. Words necessary for our ski trip that honestly, I've never had to encounter in Moldova (and being the over-confident one that I am, I didn't bring a dictionary).

Okay, I concede to being a bit over-the-top....and almost everyone we encountered was fascinated by our group of American, Romanian speaking volunteers, from Moldova. Once, we found a cabby that spoke our language. The minute we mention Moldova, he abandons 'b' sounds for 'g' sounds and proceeds to tell us everything he knows about Moldova (a whole other story!).

I probably could have added 40 words to my Romanian repertoire, if only I'd had a Romanian dictionary on that trip. But then again, would those new words have been any use to me on this side of the border? Therein lies the Romanian question.

According to the Eastern Orthodox calendar, I am obliged to wish you all a new year greeting. That makes today New Year's eve and tomorrow the start of the new year, marked on Saint Vasile's Day. The boys in this photo are my frisbee mates during the spring and summer. Tonight they came to wish us a happy new year in the same style as the boys in the short film from last year--by reciting one the poems that have memorized. It's called "urătura" (oo-ra-toora), and as you can see from last year, it's more of a chant really, and always accompanied by a bell. Also, as I mentioned before, this tradition resembles Halloween a bit, in the sense that after the children recite the appropriate greeting, the host/hostess dishes out candy, money, and loaves of celebratory bread (colac). They even come ready with bags to stow all the goods.

I read up on what all this sing-song is about in National Traditions (Capcelea Valeriu, 1998. Chisinau, Moldova: Evrica 70, 74.), which I received on my birthday. Below is what I learned, translated and summarized for your reading pleasure. If it sounds like an abundance of idyllic notions, it is. But imagine it full of rolling 'r' sounds and rapid-fire diphthongs and you have the Romanian language.

"The urătura is a new year's greeting extolling the homemakers, farmers, and livestock keepers. It is a greeting for those that love work, and for those that provide for the rest of us. It glorifies the work of the country people, who are charged with caring for the sanctity of the land. It is to celebrate him with sweat on his forehead as he ensures us rich fruits and an abundance of everything.

Modern verses may also include wishes for success in the recipient's village, and for those born in the coming year. The urătura always ends with a verse for the good of humankind, for everyone to have rich fruits, and to be happy and healthy in the new year."

Tomorrow morning, the children will come again. This part of the Moldovan New Year's celebration is called, "the sowing" (may the agrarian tradition continue as long as the soil will support it!). The children will recite another poem, and throw grain on our threshold as they do. Tomorrow's "sowing" may go something like the poem Capcelea included in my book:

To snow

To rain,

To morning dew drops,

And for wheat to bud,

Rich with fruit!

To bring us hope

While passing through danger.

So children will grow,

And flower for many years

Like apples,

Like pears,

In the middle of summer

And in springtime.

Strong like stone,

Quick like an arrow,

Strong like iron,

Hot like steal.

To this year and many to come!

I'm sure most children will come deliver lines like this because their mothers compel them. But unlike why I can't tell you why fruitcake is an American Christmas item, I can tell you why the tradition of "the sowing" began, at least, according to Capcelea.

"In the old days, it was considered that children needed to learn how to plant the seeds necessary for bread--the source of life and joy--to love the animals, and now how to grow them."

So how about a verse for the animals too?

For the lives of oxen and cattle

And your life also

To this year and many to come

With good health!

To be everything well!

The only thing truly Orthodox about my second Christmas experience, in Moldova, was my host brother's recitation of the "Our Father" prayer before our meal. He said it so fast I hardly understood! After that, it was just one big day of celebration. My 80 year old host-grandmother, Liuba, consistently and gently reminded us that in fact, we were given the chance to have this celebration because of the Lord's birth. Her sharp wit is a sure sign that she is feeling well and strong these days.

For the celebration at our house, my host brothers came from the capital city, a family of cousins came from a village in the district south of ours, and a couple more cousins from here in town. This was my first chance to meet the newest addition in the family, six-month-old, Severina. Watching Liuba hold her great-granddaughter was a treat, until I started doing the math and realized just how many years behind I must be if I ever want to meet my great-grandchildren! I'm thinking that's a no-go...

While I was in the United States for western/commercial Christmas, it was brought to my attention that I have never discussed the key food that graces our celebration tables. Pictured here, is racitoare. Maria prepares it for every major holiday meal, except Easter (when we have lamb) and any feasts taking place during a religious fast. It is prepared by boiling roosters, and contains a lot of salt. The meat is arranged on the plates before the hot liquid is poured over it. The gelatin sets rather quickly, particularly if it is kept cold. To convey how regarded the dish is, let me just say that right after I snapped this shot, Vitalie scooped up half of this platter and put it on his plate. There were four more platters just like it on the table.The medical team at Peace Corps tells host families that volunteers do not eat this dish, like we don't drink water straight from the well. Though, I know of volunteers who really like it, for my taste, it is far too salty and I only tasted it for the first time when I was visiting someone new, and it was the only thing they served besides bread.

In my host family, we exchanged gifts the moment people walked in the door. Vitalie blew me away with this beautiful gift....two bottles of collectors' wine from Milesti Mici. In fact, he said, the wine is from the year of your birth! Although he missed the year by one, 1987 is hand-written on a special label. After spending 13 years in barrels 70 meters underground, it was bottled in 2000 (and will fly home with me in November). Merci mult, Vitalie!! Go here to read about my trip to Milesti Mici, which according to the Guinness Book of World Records, owns the world's largest wine collection.

As my host brother's were headed to their car, the Popa Family called me to say, "Come carol to us in 20 minutes!" The night before, they taught me my first Moldovan Carol. It's a story about wanting to go caroling, but after getting to the house we realize that the hosts aren't home because they went to the market to sell a goat. In the end, the don't sell a goal, but manage to sell a cute little bunny for someone to make a man's winter hat.

Upon my arrival, I quickly sing the song (through fits of giggles and pushing away the thought of how much better my voice sounds when I drive alone, in the car, with the music up loud and the windows down). For my effort and the second time that day, someone pushed 50 lei (about four dollars) in my pocket saying, "tradition, tradition, it's tradition, Melissa. Take the money."

The whole evening was incredibly memorable, but it is a wonder, since Aurel kept pouring and sharing the gift I brought him from my Dad and his buddy that runs the state liquor store in Purdy, Washington--one bottle of Wild Turkey. I assumed, apparently in error, that being of my gender I would not be subjected to drinking it. The whole bottle lasted 40 minutes. Maybe Aurel just really likes getting gifts. Here, he's wearing the apron my Mom actually sewed for his wife, and holding the "best father" mug Yoel got him in Romania.

The evening's entertainment:

For the sake of not writing a novel, I'll leave the rest of the evening to be conveyed through the photo-slideshow. Check it out for my first accordion lesson, more racitoare, more gifts, and the adorable couple Aurel kept taking pictures of saying, "53 years together and they still have a marriage of love." Merry Christmas everyone!

After being on vacation in both the United States and Romania, I am happy to arrive back in my community today. The bus driver was rather grumpy (putting it politely), but a nice man shared a cab into town with me (since we were dropped off an hour walk from my house) and refused to let me pay. He left the money with the cabby when he got out, wishing me a merry Christmas as he did.

Tomorrow is the beginning of Orthodox Christmas.

So, in the newly rekindled spirit of holiday cheer, I called up the Popa family and invited myself over to deliver some Christmas gifts. In this photo, Aura is modeling the purse that my talented mother sewed her (Doina has one too!). The strap doubles-up through the two silver circles and can be worn as a shoulder bag. Mom, the girls loved them!!

For Angela, I brought a made-by-my-mom apron with a poinsettia motif. She put it on right away, and then Aurel stole it! Everyone really liked the Brown & Haley Almond Roca (made in the Pacific Northwest) too.

Finally, a bottle of Kentucky's more popular whiskey for Aurel and Yoel, the men of the house. I don't really know how to drink it, my dad helped pick it out when I was home, and it's very American. There is a turkey on the front, and Yoel is very excited.

I wrote this post before leaving for Christmas vacation (I’m back HOME for a few days, meeting the newest member of my family)! If all goes according to plan, it should be published the day after Christmas, so as to not spoil any surprises from under the tree!

Peace Corps’ third goal is to share host country cultures with Americans back home. Thus, I offer you some of Moldova’s best, which yesterday you would have found under my family’s Christmas tree.

House wine and a single shot glass:This wine is a gift from my oldest host brother, Mulțumim Vitalie! Typically, Vitalie bottles at least a portion of his wine in glass bottles, but he is one of the few that practices that for house wine. To be perfectly honest, most simply can’t afford it. What you see here is quite typical, a recycled plastic water bottle that he has filled from the barrels in his cellar. Everyone in Moldova will tell you that their house wine is the best. Though, I’ve had Vitalie’s several times now and the pitcher always seems to run dry...

The shot glass is something I purchased at the local market for three Moldovan lei ($0.24 USD). I procured this glass to accompany our wine because, as explained before, one glass is really all you need! Passing the wine is a customary. It doesn’t really matter if the guests are attempting to leave your house after a feast, it doesn’t matter if people are headed to a wedding celebration next, or if you are the host/hostess and you are exhausted. The passing of wine completes any engagement.

One person, usually the head of the household, is in control of the wine pitcher, and a circle is seamlessly formed. The controller of the pitcher will take a shot of wine and give an event appropriate toast. Toasting to health and happiness is always appropriate, but if it’s a wedding celebration, then most people toast to lots of children, health for those children, and for the bride to acquire all the skills of a good housewife.

After that person drinks his/her shot, the glass is refilled and handed off to the next person. And so the passing of wine goes until at least one pitcher has been emptied. If people are having a good time....it’s always easy to run to the cellar and fill another!

Hand woven carpet: Given the number of sheep in Moldova, it’s no wonder that carpet-making is held in high-regard. In most Moldovan homes, carpets cover both the floors and walls.

This carpet is small, so I don’t imagine my mother will hang it on a wall anytime soon, but it was custom made for her by an acquaintance of mine, Ecaterina Popescu. Check out her site here, in Romanian or English, but be sure to have your pop-up blocker disabled. Hoping that my Mom will actually display the carpet (either in this house or a retirement cabin on a lake in the woods), I asked Ecaterina for something incorporating the color blue and one of her less busy patterns.

It’s winter time too, so check out the snowy carpet washing I learned from my host family.

Chocolates and tea:Moldovans love their novelty chocolate and their tea. There is really only one candy company from Moldova, so that is where I collected this variety of sweets to share with friends and family back home. I also snagged some “Green Melissa.” Melissa is a fragrant herb that many women grow in their gardens for tea. Unfortunately, this Melissa isn't originally from Molova, but I think the idea still counts (Russian, I believe).

Sometimes when people ask me to repeat my name, I say to them “Melissa, you know…like the tea.”

As per Orthodox custom, we host a special meal each year to commemorate the death of Maria's husband. Last year, we held the event on the actual anniversary of his death. But a combination of things prompted us to have the "praznic" early.

First, the praznic is required for the first seven years after someone dies. This is the seventh year, and as such, there are a few extra customs, including a home visit by the priest to carry out a few of the appropriate rituals. Since Costel died on January 7, Orthodox Christmas, the priest would be unavailable to come to our home if we waited to do the praznic in January.

Interestingly enough, we decided to hold the praznic during the 40-day fast leading up to Christmas. During this time, many Moldovans adhere to a strictly vegan diet. No meat. No sour cream. No homemade cheese.

The vegan twist on Maria's usual fair limited the number of fried foods that would be gracing our table, so most of it was actually cooked on our wood stove, or what we call our "soba."

Stewed potatoes and mushrooms in place of fried meat dishes.

"Sarmale" or "Galuși" prepared without meat.

White beans with sauteed onions and tomatoes in leu of what Peace Corps Volunteers commonly refer to as the "chicken jello" was a welcome change.

This year's pickles, shredded beets, and spicy carrots.

Rolled cabbage pastries, walnut pastries, and apples baked with rose-petal jam and sour cherries. No vegan changes there, just classic Maria goodness.

Desert of boiled rice with sugar, fresh orange juice, orange zest, and white raisins. Usually this dish is prepared sans orange deliciousness and with milk, instead of water as a cooking agent.

And at the end of the day...Fedorița and I know our place in the kitchen organizing and washing, organizing and drying, organizing and re-shelving the dishes. The presence of a dishwasher in this house would actually have meant that she and I would have spent far less time together. O iubesc matușika mea!

With the planning complete, my guides to working with youth thoroughly adorned in sticky notes, and diplomas for participation printed by my colleague, I headed south this week to help two fellow volunteers facilitate a youth experience exchange.

For the youth from these two villages, we planned an exchange that would quite intentionally direct them to clear action plans in the projects they have already selected. One group has a problem, but is seeking an appropriate solution. The other has a solution that needs to be fine-tuned for optimum success and sustainability. By mixing the groups and conducting two separate activities (one for each of the respective projects, in their respective stages of development), we hoped to expose both groups to tools appropriate for both needs. And finally, end the evening with a small disco-tech, as requested by all the involved parties.

The hour before we were to depart from one village to the other, I quickly lost track of the number of phone calls my colleague, Zach, was fielding. Partner teacher. School director. Bus driver. Youth. Until finally, despite our best intentions, we had to resign to the decision by the school district to cancel all extracurricular activities in the region due to the poor weather conditions (something Zach and I had been ignoring all day, unwilling to admit that the event might be in danger).

We allowed ourselves a few moments of despair, but I absolutely refuse to be disappointed about this site-visit. And the youth exchange WILL happen shortly after the holidays.

Zach is a volunteer in the Health Education in Schools and Communities program. This means his program manager assigned him to partners at both the school and local health center. In Zach's first six months at site, he's also began working with partners at the social cantina, a kind of soup kitchen for elderly members of the community. I learned so much about the Peace Corps experience of my health education colleagues by spending this day and a half in his village. I think they have the best of both worlds: a set schedule and routine at the school, plus flexibility to build capacity and meet the needs of the communities through the health centers.

For more on what it means to be a health education volunteer in Peace Corps Moldova, check out part one and part two of Zach's recent discussion on this.

We are scrubbing the house inch-by-inch, as we prepare to host our praznic, next Saturday.

One the things Maria's been advocating for is some serious curtain washing. Almost with out fail, she hasn't been able to enter a room without looking up, saying we need to wash the curtains and vacuum the ceiling.

After dinner last night, and her evening tea, we pulled the clean curtains from the line and headed to my bedroom to re-hang them.

"Melissa, I'm going to go up there, and you hand me the curtains," she said as she stepped onto my bed, then maneuvered the old radiator like it was her last step to the summit of K2, and finally stood in the window ceil. Her frame is just the perfect height, as she was able to stand in the window ceil without hitting her head. One might say it was her custom built stage...

By this point, there are three of us in the room, including a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer with whom my host mother is fascinated. He is a Russian speaker. We talk and joke for a few minutes in the way only PCVs and host country nationals from Moldova can, a ridiculous mix of Romanian, Russian, and English languages. Then Maria begins to praise her work for the day, and call for recognition.

"Very nice. Look Melissa, now you won't be able to see anything from the street, and no one from the street can look inside at us." She said from behind the curtains, her fingers fastening the last clips at the top of the curtain being the only evidence she was there at all.

Already having a case of the giggles, I took her bait for play, "Thank you, Maria! But are you sure you don't want to stay up there and do a little show? I mean, I'll go call the neighbors and have them stand in the street for theater night!"

And then there was silence. Silence. My colleague and I exchanged mutual glances that whimpered embarrassment and "oh no, she didn't think that was funny."

But Maria is rarely one to miss a punch line. As I squirmed uncomfortably for three seconds that passed like an hour on a crowded mini-bus, she was behind the curtain scheming up her next move. One that included just the right amount of gesture, the appropriate words in the most appropriate language, and something she could pull off without laughing throughout the execution.

The result was one perfect theatrical performance including exactly one gesture, one word, and one language. Bold enough to induce hilarity, yet short enough that she could wear a smile as she did it and laugh all she wanted when she successfully completed it.

Her gesture? Pushing the curtains open with both hands as she held a sassy pose, still standing squarely in the window ceil, an not one bit shy.

Her word and language? An ethusiastically delivered, Russian "hello"..."Здравствуй!"

Did she laugh afterwards? Whole heartedly... as did we.

Beautiful shots like this really are a part of winter. Despite the cold, it's almost always post-card perfect during a Moldovan winter.

Work life can be a little more difficult in winter, January is packed with holidays, offices like mine are cold, and because it gets dark so early, we go home much earlier. As such, I made a list of the major projects I'm planning to tackle this winter. I freely encourage your questions as to how they progress.

[+] Children's center programming: In my town, there is a center for children whose families are not able to care for them. The children aren't orphans, per say, because the idea is that after a few months the children can move back home. My sitemate and I are going to spend some time getting to know this center's ins-and-outs. After doing a bit of research on similar centers, my hypothesis is that this center isolates these kids from the rest of the community. After doing some investigating, my sitemate and I are seriously interested in helping them initiate a peer mentor program (think big brothers/big sisters) with other youth in the community.

[+] Defining the role of youth service providers: Another service provider was added to the mix this week. The phone call I received this week went something like this "Hello, is your name Melissa? I am the new director of the youth center. When can you come show me around the center?"

[+] Spreading youth council goodness: This comes in many parts. Next week, I travel down south to help two volunteers facilitate an "experience exchange" between their two youth groups. For as much as I travel to this southeastern district, I'd say soon the bus drivers and I will be on a pretty solid acquaintance. In January, a few other volunteers are coming to my site to observe our youth council elections. After that, I'll head to another youth group in central Moldova (hopefully with some of my volunteers), to continue spreading the benefits of volunteerism.

[+] Reading good books, drinking hot wine, and and attending lots and lots of holiday parties....

Somewhere around December 1, 2009, a member of the youth council read about World AIDS Day events on the internet and wanted to see something done here, in our town. Not that an informational campaign isn't useful at anytime, but due to the lateness of the request, the idea never caught on at the council...the moment passed. Moreover, the youth council members would have struggled to put together a campaign on an issue they themselves knew very little about.

Thus, I am happy to report the success of World AIDS Day 2010, a three-part story.

Part One: Getting InformedPeace Corps applicants are told that they will probably work in HIV/AIDS prevention at some point during their service, no matter the field of work. It's a worldwide Peace Corps initiative. But in Moldova, due to strict regulations regarding what can be taught in the classroom on the subject, it isn't exactly an area where we are encouraged to seek work.

Thus, my politically correct strategy for getting the youth informed on the issue was to call in a third-party expert. Tinerii pentru Dreptul la Viață (Youth for the Right to Life), an organization from a neighboring city, is an organization with which we were already acquainted from our mutual participation in a human trafficking prevention event.

Why it took a political loop hole for me to consider calling in a Moldovan expert to speak to Moldovan youth on this issue, I have no idea. Corina presented the information better, more fluently, and more creatively than I ever could. She's done this seminar hundreds of times, and it shows in all the best ways. I particularly appreciated how she took the time to describe every word and definition in the acronyms HIV/SIDA. As we discussed immunity with the group, she clarified her point using an umbrella. A normal functioning umbrella protects us from the rain. A damaged umbrella, like a deficient immune system, fails to protect us.

By the end of the seminar the group felt comfortable with Corina and the information she was sharing. We sat around the table and I watched a quizzical look come across an eighth grade girl's face...

"Miss Corina, I have a question...where did the HIV come from?" She managed.

"Well, there are some theories," Corina started, before a tenth grader interjected.

"From the homosexuals of course!" The tenth grader stated.

"But, where...I mean from whom did the homosexuals get it in the beginning?" The eight grader fired back.

Watching Moldovans react to subjects like these is fascinating. In America, we have (mostly) sensitized ourselves to these issues. The generation of Moldovan youth I work with is just starting to question if sensitization is something they want for their country, for their culture. Guess what? They don't all agree.

Part Two: Preparing the Information

The day before World AIDS day, volunteers prepared materials for the street campaign. While some painted signs, others worked on finding a maxim to post around town, I translated a fact sheet to be printed, and everyone got quizzed by yours truly on the facts.

Not only did I ask the youth who attended the previous week's seminar to repeat pertinent facts, but we also worked through a basic HIV/AIDS Quiz I found online. Between the quiz and the expert opinion, there was still at least one volunteer believing that HIV is contractible from mosquitoes. But to be honest, as long as she understood all the other ways you can definitely contract the disease, I'm happy to hear the group argue and repeat the facts.

Part Three: Disseminating the Information



Finally, on World AIDS Day 2010, we took to the snowy streets with our signs, brochures, fact sheets, ribbons, and positive energy. Since the snow seemed to fall heavier by the minute, I can't say this is our most successful campaign (in terms of numbers of people we actually spoke with), but we stayed out there until all our materials had been distributed. When I got home, my host mom said that thing again...

"Melissa, your eyes are smiling! Where have you been?!"