Moscow—It’s like Texas, but communistThe saying goes that everything is big in Texas. If everything is big in Texas, everything is epic in the former soviet Russia. Moscow takes the epic cake if you will and builds a giant statue of Lenin on top of it, then eats it all and has the nerve to ask if you liked the cake.

Best Baba dolls ever:

Frenchies:

First off, the hostel situation was not nearly as good as in Peter. Maybe that is because we had such a good time at the last one that the next was bound to fail. The main problem with this one was getting that all too common guy that has a problem with Americans without actually knowing any. Everybody is guilty of this at some point. Luckily for us we met a group of the French in St. Peter and had been hanging out with them in Peter and Moscow. So France’s image wasn’t ruined by the one douche.

Chris:Pretty horses statue:

Initial highlights have been the Stalin Skyscrapers, seven or eight different buildings done in similar styles as the Empire State Building. They are placed throughout the city and are beautiful communist relics. Gorky park was a strong highlight as well. We rented go kart type of bikes, fulfilling a strong desire of Chris’s, with our French friends and rode all throughout the park, which is quite large. It is a cool park that runs along side of the river.

It rained and that is one of Stalin's skyscrapers:

KGB building:

Like I was saying before Russia is a pretty epic place and if there was a heart connecting to that epic pulse it would be Moscow, specifically Red Square. Red Square has a powerful presence for many, many reasons: There is only one size in the Square and that is immense; all of the buildings are beautiful; the many statues always depict a powerful man giving a stern stare and/or crushing something like the Nazis under his heel. The most epic part of Red Square is Lenin’s Mausoleum. The room is stone silent, with dim lighting barely lighting the crimson and black walls. In the middle of the room is a well-lit plexiglass box with Lenin’s embalmed body laying in it. He just seemingly rests there with his hands to his sides as thousands of visitors come to look at him four times a week. It has a bit of a haunting feeling to it, but that is well worth and incredibly fascinating.

A bad ass: Typical Russia:

Both St. Peter and Moscow have great metro systems. Both of which you ride a 3-minute escalator deep under the cities. St. Peter seemed to have a bit better quality trains and was a bit more English friendly but Moscow wins by having essentially museums as metro stations. Moscow, if you look at the map below, consists of concentric circles that become huge as you go away from the center. One of the rings is known as the golden ring and each of its stations make for great poor man’s museum. On paper Moscow has 10 million people, but the locals say that there are about 7-8 million people living there illegally and 2-3 million visiting or doing the tourist thing. So at any given moment the city has 20 million people there. During out four days there, we saw the central ring only. It is surrounded by 8 or 9 other district of the same size. Remember that if you travel there.

Subways:

Bill 6:

More typical stuff:

Engrish. We realized that this trip will become increasingly difficult as it goes on. Starting in Petersburg was easy. It seemed that almost every sign had the English translation below, and lots of people spoke English. Moscow seemed to have lost most English translations, but we still seemed to find some English speakers as we went. The farther into Russia we get, we are assuming that English will probably become a bit rare. Finally crossing over into Mongolia, the Russian will become less useful to us, although signs will still be written in the Cyrillic alphabet. Finally in China, we just won’t understand anything. I am excited.

Anyhow, I need to get back to looking out the window of my train. The next stop in Yekaterinburg.

Cheers,

Aaron

St. Peter— Who would have thought that we would find a pickled one?

Ol’ St. Peter was awesome. We had 5 days time there to take in the sites. Not nearly enough if you measure successful tourism by the percentage of museums seen. Every day consisted of seeing a museum or two, a very long walk or two, a siesta and cervasas on the river beach and a good long night with other hostel folk.

Epic: Good hostel folk:

Us and Rasputin out on the town:

The Hermitage stands out, obviously, as a huge highlight. It awesomeness is only surpassed by its grandiosity. Each subsequent room gives you another reason to say the word opulent. Whereas most of the art wouldn’t go well with the garden gnomes and flamingos of America there were plenty of beautiful art pieces/ rooms to keep a person occupied for a day or more. Even if you sprinted through the museum you would still spend a couple hours of your life. We suggest it.

The view from above: Some sort of sea monument that was awesome:

One of the next stops we made, thanks to our favorite little hostel lass, was the Museum of Erotica. The big (pun intended) tourist attraction is the pickled penis of Rasputin. The museum really wasn’t much to write home about, it was made up of a vast amount of statues related to sex, penises and vaginas—heavy on the penises though. The best part of the experience was the awkwardness of the museum being not just a museum but also an STD clinic. Throughout the small building there were waiting chairs and nervous looking patients waiting for their big checkup—an odd combination to say the least.

Deep subways, good folk: Chris with Rasputin's manhood:

Propaganda museum:

Peter’s fortress was another highlight of everyday actually because it had a nice beach you could relax at and enjoy the few of numerous monuments like the hermitage. Also, it proved to be quite humorous with the fact that eastern Europeans seem to love their banana hammocks.

More epic places:

Us and the STD nurse:

The hostel life seemed to be the best part of St. Peter for us though. One of my favorite parts of doing trips like these is the culture you seem to find throughout all the different hostels in which you stay. It is always a crap shoot whether or not you end up with a good staff and good fellow travelers. St. Peters was one of those moments where the stars aligned and everyone was just awesome. It is always a crap shoot like I said but we you get a hostel that is great it makes a crappy hostel or two worthwhile. You find people from all over the world that are cut from the same cloth or from something entirely different that you weren’t expecting. Hotels (old people traveling) are outdated and anti social. They encourage you to hide from the new world around you. If you want to travel and experience I believe the hostel way is the best.

Dostoevsky crew:

Get learned time:

Anyhow, on to Moscow,

Aaron

Last few days in Moldova...

Saying goodbye to Moldova was awfully hard. It consisted of cutting through the roll of red tape that is close of service (peace corps style), stopping by twenty people’s houses to say goodbye consistently thinking of who I have forgotten to say goodbye to and preparing food for my going away party. My last night was a very special night in which ten of my closest friends/neighbors came over and we sat around and talked way too late for how much I had to do the next day.

The owner of the gym I worked out at for two years:

Coworkers galore:

Masha, my partner at the hospice. A great lady.

Natasha, probably talked to her more than anyone over the last two years:

I didn’t realize just how much I had ingratiated myself into a few relationships in my community until I was sitting around a table the following morning minutes before I left with the majority of those present crying and/or speechless. It was one of the most emotionally powerful moments of my time in Moldova. We raised our glasses of champagne to safe travels and said our “goodbyes” not our “farewell forevers”. After sitting around in an awkward silence for 5 minutes I decided I couldn’t take it anymore. Gathering my things half of us crammed into a car and soon after I was waiting on the usual hitchhiking corner for my last ride to the capital. It was a long, somber ride with undoubtedly the slowest rutiera driver in all of Moldova—most have a cruising speed of way too fast for the condition the roads are in.

Hanging out at a winery saying goodbye to folk. Thanks to Daniela for arranging it:

Last supper with Ryne and Katya:

Katya and her family. I love them:

The last little bit of time in Moldova felt crazy. The hectic manner prevents you from actually letting the goodbyes sink in or realizing that the see you soons exchanged between Peace Corps volunteers are mostly going to be light on the ‘soon’. The moment really still hasn’t hit me that I have left Moldova for good. I left the same day as two of my good friends Vince and Cailin and we had a small little entourage accompany us to the airport until our flights left at six in the morning. Needless to say, I didn’t get a wink of sleep that night. Nor did I get any on the flight which I assumed I would, of course the contorted position that the airlines ask of me never works out in my sleeping favor.

That would be me with her:

The great neighborhood posse:

The old lady giving me hell:

Sailor's day. I stayed in Taraclia an extra day for this. well worth it.

Sitting on the tarmac at the Chisinau airport was a mixture of exhaustion, excitement for the ensuing vacation (Trans-Mongolian Railway if you didn’t get that yet) as well as excitement for the next step in life (mostly likely teaching English in Kiev). More than anything though I could not help but think that this was not goodbye forever to Moldova this was merely a see you soon, maybe slightly prolonged but soon nonetheless.

Tarmac:

Thank you Moldova for a great last two years.

Aaron

August 2nd, 2011--I guess this farewell....

This last week has flown by with a whirlwind of emotional goodbye and things I did last minute that shouldn't necessarily have been done last minute..... but I just finished them an hour ago with 12 hours to spare. I just wanted to say that this ending was very bittersweet. It is awesome to think I will be flying on an airplane to St. Petersberg, Russia tomorrow to start my close-of-service trip--The Trans-Mongolian Railway. I intend to keep writing on this blog til the end of the trip. SO, please keep on reading. I will give a little more in-depth account of how my service closed up as well.

Thank you for following this blog for the one-month, 6-month or full two years of my service. I appreciate it and it is nice to know that some is reading this thing somewhere out there.

I hope all is well for all of you.

Peace, love and shot of champagne for a happy ending to all of you,

Aaron

p.s. this is not прощайте this is до свидания

Hospice Ball 365 event

Sometimes the best advice we get in life is the advice from older brothers and sisters, who have been around the block a few more times than us. My sitemate (Jeremy) works at an organization called Angelus Taraclia, a hospice care center located in our small town in the south of Moldova. Since this organization started about a year and a half ago we have consulted and advised the Director on numerous occasions. As much as Jeremy and I can help the center out, a lot of help comes from our partner organization in Chisinau named Angelus Moldova. This organization started over 10 years ago from the convictions of the Angelus Moldova Director/Doctor who recognized the need in Moldova from end-of-life care. This organization has been an invaluable partner to hospice care in Taraclia since the beginning. By giving us advice, giving free training and helping to secure funding they have continued to act as an honest friend and partner of our organization.

The Princess and I:

Jeremy after eating the Prime minister's cake (princess to his left):Last Friday Peace Corps volunteers: Jeremy Taglieri, Laquia Burt, Jessica Kerbo, Derick Tisdale and I had the chance to return a little bit of the favor by volunteering at their hospice ball/auction. The point of this event was not only to raise money but to continue to spread awareness about hospice care which after 10 years is still a relatively inchoate practice, especially in rural areas. The event itself went swimmingly raising four times the amount of money that was originally aimed for, all but cementing this event’s longevity. Of course such successful fundraising events do not simply become successful all by themselves. The lion’s share of planning was organized by John McKellar, the event planner at Angelus Moldova. He definitely deserves hearty congratulations for his efforts and successes.

Laquia showing off her brutish selling skills:

The Scot (lion's share owner) himself:

A few of the volunteers:

Me making jerseys sexy:

The event was sold out and populated by many expats and VIPs from Moldova (including the prime minister) and Romania. A few people spoke including the former princess of Romania who is a big advocate for causes such as hospice care. After the champagne was served the volunteers spread throughout the crowd and competed with each other in selling as many raffle tickets as possible. It was obvious that my group sold the most tickets in our contest, although Laquia wanted the world to know that she actually collected the most money though by getting a 200 euro bill in her collection bowl somehow. Congrats lady J. This collection was followed by an auction that garnered the most money of the night other than Laquia. It went incredibly well especially when bidders outbid themselves either out of confusion or exorbitant generosity. To close out the night the auction was followed by a concert by a Moldovan band playing American classics. They played very well and our guests enjoyed themselves thoroughly with a good round of dancing lasting until the end of the night. All in all the event went by without a hitch, at least only hitches that maybe the organizer himself would notice.

Selling tickets like our life depends on it:

Vanna White showing off an auction item:

Volunteerism at an event like an auction can make a volunteer feel a little insignificant seeing the large amounts of money being thrown around—a single night can and in this case did glean enough money to fund the organization for a considerable amount of time—but it is important to remember that volunteers can and do play a large role in these events. Non-profit organizations change the way we as a society look at the world. They draw attention to problems and focus thoughts and wallets toward causes that change our world. Sometimes they need help to achieve their goals and objectives and that is where volunteers can lend a hand. Although volunteers aren’t the be-all and end-all of progress in the world I would say that they embody an integral piece of the human existence. In an age where near everything has a price tag on it, it is essential to remember we are a part of a greater community and being there for one another is exceedingly important both in the calm periods and the times of need.

Cheers,

Aaron Eisenbarth

After last year’s incident with a misunderstood alarm clock I felt like I had missed a large dose of my village’s culture. This year the stars aligned and they guided me to the church for the Easter service and saw the traditions that I missed the last time around. I can happily say that I have seen the Russian Orthodox Easter celebration, I do not regret the decision at all but I safely can say I will not be doing that again unless there is some sort of bribe involved or someone is threatening to eat my first-born child. It is not that I have anything against the church but aside from a few interesting minutes and the observation of ‘punishment’ upon the most ardent of believers it was rather taxing and very hard to stand through.

When I say ‘punishment’ I do not mean that church itself is subjecting its believers to Inquisition-esque torture yet they do mean business when it comes to respecting and venerating God (after all every joke has a dose of truth in it right?). The service I attended lasted 6 hours and was accompanied by another hour of standing outside of the church waiting for the Father to bless the people’s premade traditional Jesus-has-risen foods (colored eggs and sweet bread). If you do the simple math that is 7 hours which might not be horrible if not for the fact that you are to stand in place practically the entire time—I sat once during the process for a total of 2 minutes—I was more sore from church the day after than I have been from most sports I have played in my life. The standing also has to be of a certain variety: There is no putting your hands in your pockets, which I found out after a half an hour of getting mean-mugged by a local. He approached me and said that it was a sin to have my hands in my pockets, I curtsied (in a manly apologetic way) and promptly crossed my arms which also was rebuffed shortly thereafter as sin #2. I countered with the hands behind the back—sin #3—you would think I would have seen that one coming. Another show of respect to God/Jesus/Holy Ghost is the sign of the cross which took place almost every 20 seconds with a subsequent reverential bow.

For me personally I saw this as a test of patience and willpower more so than spiritual gratification. I need to be honest here I may have barely passed the standing test but I failed the patience test by going through peaks and valleys of anger and impatience at the little things. Call me a product of a modern ADHD society, I would and do.

The veneration of God is something I feel is respectable here. I know that the paraphrased Protestant church mantra is simple is better and closer to God, although I can understand the alternative everything-of-gold approach that is the tack of the Orthodox church. If there truly is a God up there/down there/over there then why don’t we respect him/her/it with the best of the best. Although if God/history has taught us anything it is that materialism can dilute the soul/moral rectitude of a society faster than the forces of simplicity and austerity can rebuild them—tough choice. If you listened to the preponderance of religions in the world you would think that life is one big A-Z multiple-choice question with catastrophic consequences.

After the service a few people asked me what religion I practice in America and why I didn’t cross myself during the service. To the first question I usually answer that my parents are Lutherans and that people usually stop after that or ask what the difference between our services are. I usually just say we get to sit. That truthful joke usually gets a laugh and a dose of envy. If I was in the business of saving souls I probably would have a shortened service and one where people could sit and not dread Sundays as another day of work. I think that may be a big reason why the major majority of people at the Easter service were much closer to death’s door than the minority. If you worked 8-10 hours six days a week like a lot of people do here, do you think you would have the willpower to endure a 4-5 hour service every Sunday.

If there was a broad-stroke generalization that I could make about the Orthodox religion versus Lutheranism (the religion I grew up with). It would be that Orthodox’s focus is on respecting and worshiping God for exactly what He is—GOD—take it or leave it God and Lutheranism (Protestantism) places understanding and fitting Jesus into your life as paramount, surely after hearing or reading enough of the bible you will find a phrase or 10 that speak to you. In this way people come to find Jesus.

I love to flirt with sacrilegious-ness (maybe that was why I wrote this post) I find that to be a strong part of my life—both in a sincerely interested and humorous way. Growing up religious made part of me who I am today, scraping that religion and the spirituality in my teenage years developed another part and perhaps now I can safely say that I have no problem with the spirituality aspect of it—an amalgamation for me, if you will, of doubt and respect. I don’t think I could ever develop a belief in one single religion that idea seems absolutely preposterous, but maybe one day I will name one of the ideas in my head God. Probably not for awhile though.

Cheers,

Aaron

April 13th, 2011—Смерть (Death)

As I heard the all-too-familiar dinner din of the knife on the heating pipes alerting me that dinner was ready. Casually walking to the kitchen I notice my baba putting on her nice coat and shoes for something completely aberrant for 8:30 at night. My baba you must understand is quite active around the house, but when it comes to leaving the house, aside from weekly peregrinations to the church and trips to see her new granddaughter at her son’s house, she doesn’t exactly make it out much—let alone out of the city.

So to my surprise she and her friend were dressed up for approaching bedtime. I asked, “What was up?” to a woeful answer of “Our neighbor died. We are going to visit the family.” I didn’t know the woman (41) that died but I do know her children who play on the street quite often—quite a sad situation. I said to pass on my condolences to the family and they departed.

This reminded me that I have yet to participate in anything related to a funeral during my time here. I say that thankfully as a volunteer who has grown close to people here over the last two years and would hate to see anyone pass away that I knew, but I have to say the traditions here are quite interesting and it would be a fascinating aspect of the culture to see (that feels morbid to say, but I mean it in the best way).

I distinctly remember the first time I heard, what sounded like a marching band playing, only to ask the baba about it and realize it was a funeral dirge being played at the cemetery (in my defense, the music was fairly/strangely upbeat and I could not see the source of the music). I have heard this music quite a few times since and it always tends to bring a certain melancholy with it.

Many other times I have played witness to the funeral processions going by, transporting bodies to the cemetery. It is always a bit disconcerting walking through the village, head phones on (guilty pleasure I will never give up), and stumbling into one of these ceremonies. Usually there are a couple of people caring large wreathes of flowers leading a large flatbed truck with an open casket on its back. This casket is surrounded by silent, mourning friends and family. The truck will usually be followed a group of walkers and them by a string of cars waiting patiently to pass.

The first time I saw this was at 8:00 in the morning on the way to a class in my first months of Peace Corps. The parade happened to pass by my house precisely when I was leaving. I was immediately accosted by the son of the woman who had died. He gave me a ring-shaped piece of bread, a candle and shot of wine. The event itself was quite discombobulating especially seeing how I just woke up.

All of this gives me cause for reflection of my own life. I haven’t had that much death in my life. Sure all of my grandparents have died, but quite honestly, I wasn’t too close with any of them, product of being the youngest child and living in different states I suppose. It does make me wonder how I will cope when someone close to me dies. I listen to my baba here talk about her family. She and her brother are the only two left out of seven children. I can’t even comprehend what that would be like.

One of my first two weeks here, I watched my baba receive a troubling phone call. After hanging up the receiver I thought she had told me that her “brother was dead”. He is one of my favorite people here and also one of the most helpful when it comes to integration. I didn’t understand this large error in communication until the subsequent morning, after I had already thought about it and the consequences for what that might mean over the next couple of months. Thankfully I mistranslated what she had said—“my brother is dying” was the intended phrase. Turns out he had had a heart attack. I had studied the appropriate words for expressing my condolences, said them, and was immediately rebuffed. One of those moments of “alright I need to listen better” I have had many times over the last two years.

I am not sure of the reason for this post. It is interesting and humbling to me that I really haven’t experienced one of the most visceral, penetrating and defining emotional events that can happen and frequently happens in this crazy place we live. Life happens—all the while we keep on twisting, contorting and doing our best to surmount the obstacles that meet us on our respective paths. I suppose it is best to deal with the realities as they come, rather than worrying about what could have been.

My sympathies to you for such a dreary post,

Aaron

Hello all,

Yep half a year has gone by, but I am not giving any excuses. You try to write a blog for two years.

I wanted to update you all on my project with Angelus Taraclia, the hospice care center. The last six months have gone by swimmingly. Using the money that I raised through the project online we have one month of funding left, but that doesn’t count the successes we have had over the last 5 months.

The goal of the project was to give our organization some time to develop some means of subsistence and to figure out a plan for the next couple years. The time has been used to have long talks about what we want to do in the future, do some in-depth SWOT analysis of the current business practices. If you work for practically any non-profit organization back in the states this may not seem like any too special, but I do believe it has been an eye-opening experience for the director of the hospice care center here. It has been good to see ideas come to fruition and her excepting new ways of doing a few things.

From my volunteer perspective is great to understand exactly how she sees the future of the hospice center. She envisions her role, currently half nurse/half director evolving into a strictly Director/outreach position, which I fully endorse for her. The center currently specializes in palliative care for 4th stage cancer patients, but she wants to attack the other side of the problem facing citizens here by making one of the focus points of Angelus Taraclia information dissemination by; informing the populace in the local district about cancer through a series of public seminars; spreading palliative practices to nurses who are not trained in the specialized care already; and by conducting free seminars for women that inform them how to check for early signs of breast cancer. Becoming more fluent in Russian has helped greatly with this process; it helps me to understand the problems facing the organization which can seem daunting at times, but are necessary to work on so that the director can keep Angelus Taraclia afloat in the future.

The strategic planning that we have been working still isn’t done just yet but the progress made on it has been substantial and it should/needs to be finished within the next two months so by go—it will be done. We need it for a governmental accreditation that needs to be passed later in the year.

Over the last 5-6 months I haven’t worked nearly as much at the hospice center, as much as I like working there with that particular partner. I helped bring in a new volunteer to the organization about 9-10 months ago and am trying to only be there when they need me for bigger translating issues like the strategic planning sessions. By sending out numerous informative letters and requests for funding to businesses they have recorded a few great successes with local companies of Moldova over the last few months, funding large percentages of our budget over the next year (with possibilities for more).

I do not yet think that our future is completely settled, but the successes over the last few months have provided us a few causes for celebration and a more sobering realization that the work is far from complete and is of the nature that it never truly will be. So best to buckle down and build as much capacity as possible in the time I have left here.

Thank you.

Also many more big thank you's to all of you that donated toward my Hospice project here in Moldova. Apparently in the last few days the last $2,146 was collected through my Peace Corps account. Crazy how fast that last two thousand came but I am incredibly grateful for it.

If you happen to coming to this website wanting to donate to my project. Please consider donating to this other project:

https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=donate.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=261-197

It is the project of a good friend of mine here in Moldova. His village may be located on the other of the country but that doesn't make it less important.

Anyhow, remember to check back here as I will be updating as to the progress of my project here.

Once again thank you one and all,

Aaron

So as I have told many of you in emails and on my last blog post I am working with a hospice center here in Taraclia named Angelus Moldova. I told you that I would update you on the progress of the organization over the coming months so that you understand the problems faced by them.

On Saturday we celebrated our one-year anniversary as an established organization in Moldova. We marked this anniversary by holding a concert at the local House of Culture. The House of Culture in most Moldovan cities and towns is where most cultural events take place, our HOC happens to have the local library and a few other uses whereas the smaller villages usually just have an area for dancing or important meetings. It is a very useful service that the HOC provides, usage of the facilities is free and they even staff the event by providing MCs and sound system people—a huge plus when trying to keep the costs down for a benefit concert.

For the past two months we have been organizing the event which really has consisted of finding musical groups and dance groups to perform for free for our concert. Overall I would say that the concert was a success, we raised roughly $500 which is not too shabby for a small town in Moldova. The biggest problem that we had was the weather which was rather dismal. We practically sold all 500 seats in the auditorium for the concert, but since the weather was so bad only about 150-200 people showed up. It is most important in the short-term to raise the money, but the long-term scenario is more important in getting out the message of hospice care in Moldova. The local television station was there and interviewed a few of the relatives of former patients of the center. This special should air on TV sometime soon. Maybe if I can get an electronic copy of it I will post it on here with some subtitles.

So here are some pictures and videos of the event:

This is a short video of one of the singers from our last act Crystal:

This is the other singer from the Crystal group, this kid is the man:

A local dance group who danced too fast my little ol' camera:

An early act:

A younger dance team from a nearby city:

Local Musicians:

Howdy folks,

It is time I finally let you in on a project that I am doing here in the Peace Corps.

One of the organizations that I have been working with here is named Angelus Taraclia. It is a local hospice care center that works as a non-profit here in my town of Taraclia. I believe it is either the 4th or 5th organization of its kind in all of Moldova. This particular center specializes in care for terminal cancer patients who are approaching the end of their time here.

Our focus as an organization is not only to care for patients but also to spread awareness of the service throughout Moldova. Moldova, in general, has an interesting mentality when it comes to end-of-life care. Hospice care is relatively new in Moldova and the current medical insurance industry doesn’t cover its cost. This situation often leads people to hide their illnesses in order to save money for their families which they believe would be wasted on their remaining days in this world. As you can guess, the result is the sick and elderly of Moldova not receiving medical care that significantly reduces the pain and heartbreak that accompanies death.

Hospice care gives people and their families the opportunity to be with loved ones at the times they are needed most. As many of you know being with an ailing parent, sibling or friend at the end of their lives can give closure to relationships that are important to us.

This organization has been around for one year and has reached the end of its funding through the Soros foundation. At this time, I am raising money for the continuation of the services provided. I feel like the work done so far has made a significant impact on the lives it has touched and it would be a disservice to the people of Taraclia to stop the effects of a great organization. My goal is to raise $3,300 in order for Angelus Taraclia to remain open for another 6 months. This will give us much needed time to develop a strategic plan for the coming years, organize awareness campaigns and help the organization raise the total percentage of community contributions by a significant amount. Over the duration of the 6 months we will continue to raise local funds and seek out funding through other means.

The money you donate will be going to a very good cause and will give the organization the needed time to develop its autonomy in these rough economic times.

Please follow the link below and donate at:https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=261-204

You can donate very easily by entering the amount you wish to donate on the lower right-hand side of the website.

Thank you much and please check back here often as I intend to update you on the continual progress of the organization.

Sincerely,

Aaron

June 14th, 2010—Welcome Youngbloods

So yeah, too long. I know. I trust that my most ardent supporters somehow got through the past couple months of my silence with all of their fingers and toes—congratulations. Life has become life here in Moldova, maybe that is the reason that I haven’t written as much in the past few months.

This last weekend, my fellow M24s and I became veterans in Moldova. We now have a group of M25s below us in the grand pecking order of Peace Corps Moldova. Something like 65 volunteers just came and had pretty much the exact same 3-day training course in Chisinau that we did. It was interesting to be on the other side of the first encounter with Moldova. Not to say that, I abruptly look like a hardened veteran, but I do think that my group in general has lost the initial wide-eyed look that comes with living in a foreign country. The new volunteers will at the very least live in constant surrealism for the next few months, it never seems to go away completely, but it definitely becomes less over the course of a volunteer’s time here. I still love Moldova and the randomness of being on the other side of the planet, the strange regiment has simply been incorporated into my daily routine.

The proper way to welcome someone to Moldova--with a mustache:

A few days with the new volunteers, yielded exactly what was expected—a lot of half nervous questions about life here as a whole. I loved seeing the enthusiasm of the new group and their appreciation of it all. It is hard to create the thousand-word picture, so when you can show someone exactly what you mean when you are talking about living in another country it is all the more fulfilling.

Not only did the last weekend constitute the new M25 group, it also marked the year marker of me being in volunteer. It is absolutely crazy to think that I have already been here that long. I feel as though I have accomplished a quite few things since I have been here, but not nearly as much as I probably could have. I may have graduated to 1st grade (by 1st grade, I mean the level above kindergarten not to be confused with a superior or top-rate form of understanding) Russian by this point but that still may be pushing it. I think I must sound like a pretentious little child when I talk because I can barely understand a conversation sometimes or talk for that matter but then I will drop a big word on someone that they weren’t expecting me to know. It like listening to a child babble on about what he did that day in practically incomprehensible language and then drop a famous Winston Churchill quote perfectly. I keep them on their toes.

One year here has produced a real feeling of home in Moldova, Peace Corps friendships that will most likely last a lifetime, a decent modicum of Russian language, and a respect of culture that goes far beyond merely celebrating St. Paddy’s day or Cinco de Mayo.

IronBeard out.

May 5, 2010—A Successful Weekend

This last weekend I had quite a bit to do: I had a Small Project Assistance (known as the SPA) presentation to give, as well as a meeting with a couple from the states that live in Chisinau and fund small projects. Both meetings and presentations couldn’t have gone any better really. For the SPA presentation I was just told today that I had won funding for my agribusiness project, which consists of setting up a demonstration plot in the south of Moldova displaying a few modern techniques used in agriculture. Hopefully we can spread the application of these sorts of greenhouse projects, because the profits that are associated with them really do make a huge difference in the monthly paycheck for farmers around here.

The other project that I had a meeting for was for a small grant for a refrigerator, computer, stovetop and kitchen supplies in one of the kindergartens/ preschools in my village. I came with 2 projects at two different kindergartens but I am happy to see at least one of them get closer to being funded. I will have to find another way to do the other one… all is due time I suppose.

Forgive the short blog today but I have to get ready for tomorrow, I am off to the Carpathian Mountains in Romania to get some fresh air.

Cheers folks,

Эрон

March 29, 2010—Orthodox Easter/everything is just a little more hardcore.



Tomorrow is Easter here and after tonight “Lent” or «Пост» is technically over. Back in the states I remember people saying they gave up fast food or coffee for Lent, I personally never really cared to give up anything. My opinion is that if you truly think something is that bad for you that you will give it up for 40 days, you should probably just quit it all together and not beat around the bush. For some within the orthodox religion the act of fasting can been taken to a much higher level than what I have seen in the states. I may be experiencing that stark difference because of the Lutheran upbringing that I experienced just wasn’t quite as gung-ho about giving up their precious bacon-wrapped steaks. For some in the Orthodox religion it means no kissin’ or lovin’ or even kebabs (both literally and figuratively). I observed my babooshka truly fast as the beginning for three days where she only drank water and yet still worked all day, while I took to taking overeating-induced comatose naps by the handful. Even with my protest of not wanting to eat meat during the 40 days of Great Lent, she still insisted that I meet my daily quota of kielbasa consumption—she is a stubborn brute that I very much respect. Especially the more I come to understand just what it is she is saying, I have realized that half the time that she talks, she is talking in metaphor or quoting a passage from the Great Farce. It is funny because I believe she tells me the same ones all the time, but it just takes me forever to figure out what exactly they mean. So, from what I have observed she has made it all the way to the day before Easter and now she has to walk to church with all the sweet bread that she has been slaving over the last few days (which she also can’t eat—eggs (true vegetarians if you ask me, contrary to mainstream vegetarians)) at midnight and stand for 5-6 hours straight (not falling asleep). At the end of the 6 hours stand, everyone exits the church and circles it displaying their respective baskets of multi-colored eggs, sweet bread and whatever else they decide to furbish the basket with, only to have the Father fling holy water over the crowd using a basil plant dipped holy water. Only at that point does everyone get to eat and drink as they please again. Amen. I have about 8 hours to decide if I want to go to church tonight with her or not… We shall see.

The sweet bread:

Peace out folks

March 29, 2010—A little about some other parts of the world—Poland/Ukraine Version

In case you wondering what i looked like when I write my blogs:

And this is what I do while I ponder what to write about:

So the last post I mentioned that I had managed to get myself into a spontaneous trip to Poland and Ukraine, both of which we amazing and exactly the vacation that I/we all need more often in our lives.

This particular vacation began with a pleasurable overnight bus ride (13 hours, originally thought to be 20—relief), pleasurable because it is ok to drink on public transportation otherwise I would have not been a happy camper. The first day was spent in L’Viv in a sleepless delirium which seems to be the cool thing for me to do on every vacation as of late. I believe you must see both the day/nightlife of a city to truly enjoy it, so if you are on a budget and must package your vacations into short excursions, sleep simply put is the first thing to go.

Tons of cool architecture:

and more:

L’Viv is a gorgeous city with all the things to love about Eastern Europe with the additional flair of a Western Europe feel to it. Something that nearly always makes an impression on me in a new country or city is how as foreigner or at least someone with the all too familiar look of being lost is treated by the yokels. My personal favorite experience like this was in Vancouver BC when I was helped by a slew of people when my car broke down and still made it to one of the greatest concerts I have seen in my life. The first 5 minutes in L’Viv brought back this memory. I asked for directions from one person and was immediately approached by a young woman who told us she was headed in the same direction and could show us exactly where to go. After talking for a bit, we found out she knew people at the hostel we were staying at and that progressed to her and her sister kindly showing us the lay of the land in L’Viv a city they are proud of for good reason. We managed to make it to scenic lookout locations, markets that were perfect for buying ex-soviet awesomeness, a shooting range, and a variety of clubs that can only be described as unique and requisite on a trip to Ukraine.

Hostile takeover of the hostel:

Neal being cliche:

As for the rest of the journey, we continued on to Krakow where there is plethora of gorgeous architecture and a very cool city square with plenty of opportunities for whatever kinds of mischief/adventure you want to delve into. It was a little bit more expensive than L’Viv but we made due, by subjecting ourselves to mass of amounts of cheap and amazing kebabs, something that Washington really needs to realize the beauty of—probably the best late night snack ever. Would you honestly ever get late-night hot dog or McDonalds again, if there was a kebab stand in town? The answer is only yes if you are dumb or crazy J.

A very alert taxi cab driver:

View of Krakow from a castle:

Something I must say in general about traveling is how great staying in hostels can be. It is amazing how many like-minded individuals you can meet on a vacation. Staying at a hostel is much like your first day in college or at a job where everyone is new. It provides an incredibly comfortable atmosphere where it is not acceptable to talk to everyone, it is encouraged and you end up making some of the best sorts of friends even if it may only be for a day or two. Something about a hotel reminds me gated community, trying to avoid the contact that needs to be made with the outside world.

For all the smiling and good times had throughout the trip, we definitely toned it down for one day in particular, the day we visited Auschwitz. On the way to the concentration camp, I believe I did what I do nearly every time there is a serious event that I am actually a little nervous about in my future. The mood turned to somber and serious the second that we arrived in the town. It is weird to me to think of growing up in a city of town that possesses one of the darker histories of humanity. I wonder how it would change your perspective on things being so close. I am sure for some people it would strike pretty deeply into their character, but I could also see how some might choose to repress the thought of it.

Much like the most beautiful and most ugly things in the world, words do little to describe the experience of being there. I think one of the things that affected me the most was the familiarity of it all. The wooden buildings, the dull-color painted walls, the dirt roads connecting it all. We have all seen these basics before, but what sets these particular things apart is simply the fact that countless atrocities on humanity that were performed there. It reminds us of the frailties of humanity and the decency of humanity that is sometimes swept aside in cruel times. Seeing a child’s shoe can bring a tear to your eye for many reasons, whereas a room full of children’s shoes that were all of their last pairs brings a different sort of weight to your mind where you can find yourself floundering in your emotions.

The last impression of AuschwitzEntrance to Auschwitz "Work Sets You Free"

Well, I was feeling spontaneous and am now in headed to Krakow, Poland from L'viv Ukraine. L'Viv is absolutely gorgeous and people equally so. A friend of mine needed to meet a friend in Krakow on Sunday so I decided to keep him company on the long bus/train ride to our destinations. I am truly a selfless being... I did this purely because I wanted my friend to not be bored on his trip--not because a vacation to Ukraine and Poland sounds amazing.

Anyhow, that is what I am doing. Not saving the world at the current moment, but enjoying life and loving the travel. I will not post any picture until I get back next week, because it is kind of a pain in the ass from here. anyhow I will keep you all updated I suppose as the trip progresses. We may make it to Auschwitz and some other points of interests. anyhow peace out folks.

Cheers,

Aaron

March 9, 2010—A Tangent

Life was good this weekend. I took an adventure to Balti, the second-most populated city in Moldova, sitting at a hefty 100,000 or give or take a few ten-thousand. The whole people-working-abroad thing really throws off any estimates you can make about Moldovan cities and villages. My village/city (depending on who you talk to—young adult or adult) for example is supposed to be a little less than 15,000 by the books, but most people say that 10,000ish live there now. The thought that gets conjured up in my mind this that of Detroit where they say it can feel like a ghost town with its shrinking population and its continued presence of massive architecture. The difference between here and the states is that here a large percentage of the families have one or two parents or children working abroad or in a major city such as Balti causing the population of a city or village to usually be less than what is advertised on the books. You might say that this happens quite a bit in the states, because small towns on the whole ship off their young to the closest state university where they become learned in one of the various trades or pseudo sciences offered there. This holds true for the most part in the states, although the big difference is that the family who sends/loses their young off doesn’t traditionally depend on the income of that individual for sustenance, whereas in Moldova that story is all but rare.

One recent estimate that I heard was that roughly 1 of the 4 million “living” in Moldova work abroad and in almost every case they send remittances back to host country nationals. You could call the remittances double-edged swords though because they on the whole lead to a pervasive problem that the world as a whole deals with all the time—inflation. Like many countries, inflation is a tough problem that Moldovans have to deal with. Interest rates on a good day at non-profit organization come to rest at 15 percent and on a bad day can reach the 25 percent range. Over a period of a loan you can imagine what kind of difference this would make in regard to the difficulty of paying this loan off or even with dissuading you from ever taking the loan in the first place. There are many reasons for this phenomenon, but one of the biggest causalities is the fact that so many people work abroad and bring cold hard cash back across the border, after years of high rates of these remittances the average price of goods in general has risen considerably. These things are natural, if the average disposable income of a population rises, the overall price of commodities tends to rise, bringing on unavoidable comments by the geriatric community such as “I remember when bread only cost a dime and seeing a movie at the local cinema was a quarter for the works”, the problem is that average prices usually rise with real average wages. What has happened in Moldova is that “real” local wages haven’t risen, but Moldovans working abroad has indirectly given a “boost” to the local price of goods and services. The more people work abroad the higher the price becomes for people working and staying at home. You can imagine what it is like for a large family, whose parents work at home or a local factory and have to continually put up with increasing prices.

In the States we enjoy quite the opposite of this, with a large influx of cheap labor from various countries; predominately from south-of-the-border countries such as Mexico (another popular country for remittances) because of this we enjoy the lower-than-average prices of goods. You could sit back and say that is great for us, but I guess the point of this is not necessarily to make a point, but maybe to share a less vocalized view of working abroad for a brief moment. Do what you will with it and enjoy your day… I am tired.

I apologize for my serious tone in this post, I realize I haven’t taken an air solemnity like this in quite some time, I honestly sat down to describe an adventure to Balti that I took last weekend. Maybe you will get the alternative peachy-keen version tomorrow.

Until then or another then.

Respectfully yours,

Aaron

March 2, 2010—What the hell is that?

That would be the sun and the broad and overwhelming-welcome changes in the weather, life and most of all (in this humble bloggers opinions) in the ol’ psyche that come from the new season. I have not written on this blog for over a month now and I suppose it is time again to inform the minute following that I have. Although that amount has grown a bit since last I checked, which is always nice. So what has happened in the last month? Some would say not too much, but I suppose since this is the Peace Corps it is interesting to at least someone. Just kidding really, in all honesty the past month has been rife with new experiences and good/bad times.

A large percentage of Moldovan statues incorporate guns into the art:To start off this, I will talk about маслыница. A holiday a few weeks back that celebrated an ol’ pagan and Russian tradition for the coming of spring and the start of пост (Lent or the 40 days of fasting that some other religions take part in the states). The day itself is celebrated by eating pancakes all day with fruit or sour cream. The pancakes symbolize the coming sun. In this blog are a few pictures of the day, which was surprising the first absolutely beautiful day of the year. The irony was that the very next day turned right back into a foggy, raining, muddy day again--dashing the hopes for spring starting already.

France vs. America: My money was on France:

They take the fasting a little more serious here from what I have observed, not drinking water or eating food for the first 3 days at all. I refused to give up water, but I did tell my Babooshka that I would fast with her. She said “ok”, and then next time that dinner time rolled around there was the all too familiar multiple course meal that I have become accustomed to; waiting for me. She insisted that I did not need to take part in the tradition, so I said “how about I just don’t eat any meat for пост?” something that she also does for the remaining days of пост. Thinking that this time, for sure we were on the same page and that surely breakfast the next morning would only be eggs and bread. No, I was surprised with a large defiant helping of Salami standing in the place of eggs as if to signify her adamant refusal for me to “endure” in her traditional way. So now, instead of trying respect her traditions and I get to be a jerk and eat large meals of meat in front of her, even when yesterday she told me she was craving BBQ. Yeah, I get to be that guy, that says yeah that sounds delicious saying that with my mouth full of a cutlet of meat that she prepared for me. I tried.

More pictures of the nice day:

Over the past month or two, I have met a fairly large group of European Union volunteers, who have proven to be more than entertaining. Most of them live an hour’s bus ride from my village. Hanging out with them, definitely is refreshing. It actually reminds me of being back in a youth group in church before I opted for working Sunday mornings at a restaurant. They are incredibly fun and always trying to make the most fun out of their situations. A day spent with them most likely means I will take part in some sort of artsy project, whether it be cooking or doodling. I appreciate it quite a bit because suffice it to say it makes me feel young in spirit again. What is it that makes us lose sight of the little things like that? I don’t want to blame it on anything specific; I feel that would be disingenuous to the cities, jobs and people I have come from. Anyhow, more about Moldova.

Very serious theater performed by the French and German ladies:Over the past month I have also had a couple of Peace Corps ISTs (In Service Training)s, once for the work I am doing here and the other for language training. Both were incredibly helpful for me. My partner and I made significant progress on the grant that we are writing together. We hope to have it completed early this month. The language IST couldn’t have been better, I think all of the Russian students agree that they miss the tutors that we had in Chisinau—some of the best.

I have decided to grow out my chest hair:

My hope is that with the changing weather I will have more stories to talk about with you kind folks. This winter I could have been a professional film critic, but I don’t think that is what you wanted to hear about that from Moldova (For any future Peace Corps volunteers that read this: An external hard drive is the best/worst thing to ever bring to a country. It will consume hours on end, but will also supply you with much needed breaks from PC reality. Consider yourself warned). The last few weeks before the nice weather arrived, my village reminded me of London horror movies that take place in 19th century, such as the Movie “From Hell”, massive amounts of thick fog obstructing your vision for anything past 5 meters, and an eerie inordinately small amount of people on the street. All is well now though.

Anyhow I need to be on my way.

Cheers,

Aaron

January 20, 2010--This is a Story of Perseverance

I awoke with headache and a yearning to stay in the place I had awoken... although duty patiently prevailed. "I must be at work" I told myself. Life called, I answered by rolling back over in bed. After one hour of listening to the debate of the little apparitions on my shoulders, I moseyed into life. Convinced that the day would be a failure, I went to work and did what any failure would do. I wasted away the gift of time on random internet browsing. I read every article related to healthcare and the populist hangover facing America after the Massachusetts election. Just when I thought I had had enough of my nose leaking like a high-powered squirt gun and my "for-fun" reading curdling the blood in my veins, I sat and contemplating my early departure from work and the ensuing laziness that would come of it.

I sat... I sat... I sat and then my partner blindsided me with a wintertime picnic—today is the day of John he said—and in our particular office building “the Day of Johns” because two people are named John (Ivan is the direct translation of John). To hear that we were having a picnic at work was odd enough, despite the fact it is the dead of winter. The patient side of my mind said give this an hour, if you’re still feeling like hell you can go home.

The thing with any given masa in this country is that giving a little bit of time no matter the type of celebration it will get interesting with patience. Within an hour the huge table I usually sit with my computer was cleared and a table cloth spread to its edges, with a multitude of workers from the other offices throughout the building. I realized very quickly that I had been introduced to all of the men in the building quite long ago and the new faces present in the room were all women, who were in turn introduced to me as “not-married, not-married, and not-married”, normally in America this would make me a little uncomfortable, but since I have lived in Moldova I have become more accustomed to the statements and questions in this vein. I can’t tell you how many times I have been introduced to a female here, and asked immediately in her presence whether or not she is attractive. Alright actually that is still a little hard to deal with, both because of the language barrier and the obvious awkwardness.

This masa ensued for the better part of the afternoon with the guest list being refreshed every hour. One of the more interesting guests was a local priest, with a jolly smile on his bearded face reminiscent of a post-high school Santa Claus, who brought Kraft singles (WTF, where did he get them?), wheat bread (the first I had seen in a long time) and tartar sauce (interesting mix) and an icon of the Virgin Mary (he is a priest, it’s not weird) to the party. Knowing that my partner Ivan is not religious, he gingerly laughed when he placed the iconic Virgin Mary picture on our bookshelf when Ivan was out of the room. I thought it was quite funny, mostly because it was a priest, who normally I see as extremely serious in Moldova. Maybe I just don’t make it to the church enough here, maybe things get a little more wild there. J

On this particular morning I decided to wear my Yak Trax for the very first time. Yak Trax if you are unfamiliar are amazing little slip-on traction additions to your shoes, they work extremely well. I found myself disappointed that I had not worn them earlier, it would have prevented the two spills that I had taken early in the year on the ice. Anyhow, this being my first day using the little gems, of course, the risk of losing them would be at an all-time high. It always seems that way for me. If I don’t ruin something or lose it the first day I have it, I can expect that it will be safe for at least the next year. So “how could I possibly lose my Yak Trax on the first day of using them?” You ask. Well, I gave them away to the young Saint Nick. You might think “Why the hell would you do that?” as I thought when was doing it and even now. The answer is that I was called out, being the number one diplomat for America in my village in Moldova, it was hard to say “no”. I was asked in front of a dead-silent room full of people “Why don’t you give those to the priest? He is a priest after all”. With all eyes on me and my decision, I sensed the corner I managed to get myself into (merely by not wanting to fall on my ass that morning, can you blame me?) and dutifully handed the Yak Trax over with a sigh and a pitiful “Why not?”.

Overall the day was a success, the patience of waiting out the sickness led to yet another unforgettable day in Moldova. Yet on the negative side I am still able to fall on my butt any given day of iciness. Good ol’ status quo of life I suppose.

Cheers,

Aaron

Unfortunately, I wasn't anticipating the Day of Johns and didn't bring my camera, hence the reason you only get pictures of the Winter Wonderland.

January 14, 2010—Just when I thought the holidays were over… Old New Year.

I am not going to lie there has been a lot of holiday celebrations here lately and I wasn’t here for half of them… and just when I thought it was all over. Some amateur Jedis came banging on our gate, demanding candy and money.

When I first saw them on my way to the outhouse, I was confused by them yelling something at me, I just figured they were messing with me, so I carried on do complete my predestined duty. When I returned I came to watch them gently hitting my babooshka with their makeshift lightsabers as they serenaded her with a song which I am sure was some special for the day—the day being the Old New Year’s eve. When I approached, I too, got to take part in the festivities and was sung to and beaten with a stick simultaneously. We gave them money, apples, bread and candy. All of which I would have thought was great as a kid as well, but the bread and apples I probably would have put in the same class as the people that give out toothbrushes on Halloween in the states. A nice gesture but the furthest thing from your mind on Halloween is brushing your teeth. It has to be taxing to be the person that only gives out toothbrushes, all night you have watch hordes of ballerinas, jedis, and other superheros and Superheroines come to your door with joy on their faces only to glance into their bags to double-check that it was indeed a toothbrush and not a mini snickers bar that they received from you, and then to only get a subdued “thank you” in return. As an adult that all kind of sounds funny now, but I don’t think I could face the tough crowd all night.

Enough on that tangent. Both new year’s eves are celebrated here, with essentially a 10-day party in between. I know that there was a big party on new years at least in the capital, although I haven’t asked my babooshka yet what they did. I am pretty positive it was a made up of few people, great food and a sampling of house wines. Typical masa. Next year I will have to find out.

Just the thought of the night…. спокойной ночи (Calm night) People.

Aaron

January 10, 2009—The Triumphant Return Home (Moldova)

The vacation was an amazing experience, one in which I would gladly do again in the future although the world is too big of a place to stay in one place too long. We all need to see as much of it as possible. I have to admit at the end of the trip I was very hesitant to return to Moldova. I was a little overwhelmed with the experiences that I had been having. When you have been listening to the Call to Prayer from the rooftops in Jerusalem, or hiking to the Monastery in Petra or standing next to the Sphinx and Pyramids and looking over the enormous city of Cairo—all of which are humbling to say the least. So when you are waiting for your airplane in the Cairo international airport it is a little hard deal with the fact that I was flying back to my small village.

I had told my host mom here that when I returned I would cook dinner for some of the neighbors and her. This apparently turned into my birthday party without me really knowing it. Suffice it to say, the spaghetti I was intending on preparing was not nearly enough. While I prepared my addition, my baba and her friends cooked a variety of other dishes for the party. Typical Moldovan fashion is to completely cover the table with every piece of china in the house full of some sort of food. I am not sure if the goal is to eat all of the food, but if it is that goal is rarely achieved.

Host Family:

I made the spaghetti sauce from scratch so I received plenty of advice and know-how during the prep time. Luckily, the only superfluous addition into the sauce was a little bit too much oil. Not all that bad. I am not quite sure how the meal went over on the whole but everyone was kind enough to say that it was very delicious and that I should cook more in the future, despite some of the plates of it being barely picked at. Next up is tacos.

The birthday party made me feel ashamed that I even hesitated for a second coming home. We sat around the table eating and drinking for hours. Receiving toasts to my health over the next year every 5 minutes from neighbors, colleagues and my host family. It was great. I did try a few times to express my gratitude for all the generosity and blessings, I’m pretty positive it came out as garbled Russian, but hey I tried. In addition to an impaired sensation in the head and a belly full of food, I made off with two towels (which I really needed), some smelly stuff and my all-time favorite gift ever a traditional carafe sort of thing with 6 shot glasses which was full of “Taraclian Cognac” also called raiku or самагон. I had to be extremely careful opening the present lest I end up with cognac on the floor. The party winded down I believe around 11:00, a good 6 hours. My bed has never been more comfortable. (I fear going to a wedding here though, they are supposed to last two days).

Neighbors:

Cheers:

I felt incredibly spry this morning which was a nice bonus considering the excesses of birthdays, although I did sleep the majority of this Sunday away. My plan is to next write about each of the countries I visited, which I regret not doing while I was in country. Oh well, you live and learn right? Talk to you soon.

Aaron

Hello All,

This will be will a shorty... I am just about to head out on my vacation in Egypt, Israel and Jordan. The benefits of not seeing the family for the holidays. My camera didn't make it in time, but I will steal my fellow volunteers cameras from time to time to take in the surroundings for you all back home.

It is probably going to be a little while until I post again. Although I am pretty positive you all can take it, because I think I have done it to you a few times before... Anyhow i hope all is well.

Peace out,

P.S. Merry Christmas

Aaron

December 21, 2009—Short posts have been deemed OK by me now.

I have decided that I can leave short posts on the blog now. Stories too long for Facebook, but shorter than what I normally considered a post on the ol’ blog.

Today I couldn’t help but laugh a little while at my favorite gym in the world. Yes some days Клуб Здорове is the highlight of the day, which runs contrary to everything I have ever said about health clubs back in the states. Who knows, I might even gain a little bit of muscle in Moldova, which would be just be weird and the last thing I thought I would do here.

Anyhow, I couldn’t help have a shit-eating grin on my face while watching some Moldovans and I workout to such rock anthems as “Jingle Bell Rock”, “The Wind Beneath my Wings”, an R. Kelly song that I don’t know the name of and quite a few other songs that I can’t seem to remember now. The comedy gold is in the same ironic vein as the anachronistic t-shirts sporting “witty” English phrases from yesteryear.

Sometimes it is the little things that make you smile.

Word,

Aaron

December 20, 2009—My Icy Kingdom.

Snow came. Village shut down partially. I shoveled some snow. I stayed warm in my room. I sledded with my 4th grade class. I thought a lot about throwing snowballs at my annoying dog. I watched more than my fair share of movies. I came very close to throwing snowballs at my annoying dog. I dreamed about my upcoming vacation. I was very cold when it was -20 degrees Celsius at night (apparently, so says the baba and partner). I got a minor case of cabin fever. I realized it was an acute case of laziness rather than cabin fever. I played lots of Ping-Pong at the gym I like. I felt better. I did laundry. My clothes froze. I thawed them. I have clean clothes now. Life is funny. Life is good. Russian is hard. Baby steps. I am writing on my blog finally—right now.

I blame my camera being broken (a causality of war) for no blog contact over the past few weeks, at least I wish that counted as an excuse. It doesn’t, but I WILL attribute it as the very reason why there isn’t a single picture of my village covered in two feet of snow on this post. I will do my best to describe life without accompanying charts and graphics. J

Apparently it has been 3 years since the last time it has snowed as much as it has in the last few days here. If remember from my prior posts, the majority of the people that I talk to here are above the age of 60 or around the age of 10. So the things that I commonly hear from the older folk around here, in Russian mind you is “ three years ago there was a storm about this size, BUT when I was a kid the snow would be over our heads and we would have to shovel tunnels through the snow to get to various places”—a rough translation, but fairly familiar isn’t it? Much like childhood stories where our parents experienced every life experience that we have only ten-fold. At what age do you normally realize that uphill both ways is not possible? What should I glean from my baba’s story: 1) global warming is real? or 2) parents are liars? I am thinking both. White liars and an overactive sense of gullibility—damn my childhood.

I really wanted some pictures of the winter wonderland here. It is quite beautiful. Roads mysteriously become level-looking, still have to keep the lazy eye on the road regardless of the appearance. Luckily the open manholes don’t become completely hidden in the heavy snow, otherwise I would end up on Russian television as the scared American in the bottom of the well.

The walls of the shoveled pathways through the courtyard of house stand just below my waist. I can see dogs if I go out of my way to see past their personal ice castles. The pregnant cat has been calling the outside attic home. Practically every time I leave the house via the exit under that part of the house, I hear Даша (Dasha the cat) say a few words and then pull a Cliffhanger move to descend down the gas piping to ladder a few feet below. The first few times it kind freaked me out, but now I just want a camera so I can film her. If I am leaving the house in this fashion it probably means that I am going to admire my cold, cold kingdom from the vantage point of my icy, icy throne. Oh the little big things.

On that note I have said too much and need to go to bed.

Love you all,

Эрон

December 10, 2009-- 6-month review

Apparently I have already been here for 6 months. I think that calls for a moments of brief reflection. Maybe I will do this every three-six months—absolutely no promises.

Where am I?

I am still living in a country by the name of Moldova. It hasn’t changed much sense I have been here, although my local internet provider promises me that faster internet is right around the corner. I have talked about the possible changing of the political regime in earlier posts. The latest news on that subject is there is no change—again. Moldova currently has a interim president who will be there at least until next year. The rather large communist party declined to offer a candidate for the presidency and boycotted the vote in general, leaving the reformist parties 8 votes shy of the 61 votes that are requisite for a presidential hopeful. Interesting, yes. Prolonged politics just like the US, yes. I’ll keep you informed.

What am I doing?

Currently I am exploring possible projects with my partner. I would really like to do a project growing mushrooms with local farmers, but I have yet to have found a suitable partner for that. I am also trying to put together a presentation that is based purely on cheap alternatives to expensive store-brought products for farmers. We will see how that one goes. It is a rather difficult thing to do.

Other projects involve trying to figure how I can help preschools here in my village. There are a total of 4, all of which need help in their own sort of way. One in particular is in considerably more need than the others although getting on the same page as to what is needed has proven to be a challenge.

The one project that I have complete faith in right now, takes places at the health club that I mentioned earlier in my blogging adventures. The club I have realized provides a great alternative for teenagers to do something productive, other than drinking. I, for example, can speak from experience on the things the things you teenagers resort to, when they feel there is nothing to do in town. This particular club, despite the endless character it possesses is in desperate of some essential repairs: a roof that is the prime culprit for the growth of mold; a floor that has been the victim of 25 years domestic abuse from the dropping of weights; and a general scrub and paint job that would spruce the place up. I would like to organize some sort of artistic contest where a local student(s) would be able to paint or add a piece of art to the décor of the gym when the place has been completed. A forewarning to you all, my partner in this project and I have decided that the best funding source available for this particular project would be a grant in which I request funding from various sources in the states—including you kind folks. I will keep you updated. This may very well be the death of this blog.

Can I talk to people in Russian, yes or no? Answer: kind of, sometimes, maybe, all of which are suitable answers. It is funny how fast a normal conversation can dive into the realm of Aaron-has-no-idea-what-you-are-talking-about. I feel like I have gotten to a level where I can in general understand what is happening in conversation around me. With adequate time, I can contribute a decent answer that mostly likely won’t be grammatically correct, but at least it is a try. I am excited to see what an additional six months will do for me.

How do I occupy myself?

Occupied is not the best word for it, merely the first word that comes to mind. Pace in general is a lot slower here, I usually spend the first half of my work day exploring possibilities for projects and having small conversations with people at work. I usually get distracted by a decent modicum of news via about 5 different sites. Today, for example, I explored the how to use Google Wave and how I might be able help my partners here with it, if of course they have computers. I usually spend a good chunk of my day exploring something like that.

After a large Bulgarian/Moldovan lunch I will study a little bit with one of my two tutors. I usually go to tutor classes for 2 hours at a time and twice a week. A typical class consists of trying to talk without the help of books or dictionaries. We usually simply talk about the things I have done since the last time I have seen my tutor, after my new material has run out we descend into the Russian textbooks which I was given at the start of the Peace Corps which still, not surprisingly, contain a lot of material I don’t yet know.

After the lesson, I either play games in English with a 4th grade class or I make my way to the gym. Hopefully I have worked up at least a couple drops of sweat from the workout, otherwise the super-sized meal that is waiting at home will add two kilograms rather than one. I have made a promise to myself to regain my health when I return to the states, it will have to wait two years though.

Food in general—how is it?

I already mentioned I plan to give an epic fight to regain my health when I get back to the states, that having been said I haven’t become accustomed to nearly all of the food here. From the overly-buttered and -oiled everything, to the sheer mass amount of food consistently in front of you , to the soup appropriately described as the “fat soup” amongst volunteers. Yes I eat it all and it is pretty good, although if I was to name a top ten of things that I miss it food items would probably make up 8 of those slots. I have found it is really easy to miss good food.

--

That is all I have for the moment, I am a little tired. How have the last 6 months treated you? Any big news that I don’t know about?

Cheers folks,

Aaron

11.26.2009—Thanksgiving Limited Edition Blog

Aside from a few hangovers here and there, today is the most I have longed for home since I have been in Moldova. Over the last few days I have been reading the news headlines about how people and turkeys have both been gaining weight over the last 5 decades, about how the Thanksgiving day parade has changed routes defying history, and of course about the black Friday deals speculation. These sorts of things I have not and will not miss in my time here. Although talking to the family for a little while earlier has made me realize the things that I do miss:

1) I miss beating my brother at ping pong during holidays. (and usually picking a fight with him at some point in the night)

2) I miss flipping my sister crap about anything in general. (I also miss her motivation for fun during the holidays)

3) I miss that oh so good feeling of overdosing on tryptophan and falling asleep on the couch. (yes, I know that tryptophan isn’t the reason why I fall asleep after the Thanksgiving meal—it is the fact that I eat and drink like it is the last morsel and last drop of wine/beer I will ever consume)

4) I miss getting to steal my nephew’s bed for the holidays. (Maybe because my bed was always one of the first to go when relatives came to our house when I was young)

5) I miss the slight shade of red and the shit-eating grin that mysteriously appear on my father’s face when he has downed a beer or two. (He is kind of a lightweight)

6) I miss my mother’s constant threats about how she is going to break out the wooden spoon if I don’t quit what I am doing. (She usually gets it out but they are hollow threats in the end—she is all talk)

7) I miss getting my 3 nephews and niece all riled up just before bed. Making it hell for my brother and sister.

8) I miss being the sibling without kids at the holiday, because I get to rub it in a little. J

9) I miss how hard it is steer the Eisenbarths anywhere. (I was once told that we are like trying to herd cats)

10) I miss friends that are essentially family members (and all of their flaws)

Happy Thanksgiving folks

Love,

Aaron

November 18th, 2009—A Few Words from Your Son, Brother, Friend or Acquaintance.

Hello all,

Life has been rife with experience since the last post, although I suppose that is just a perspective, whether you think I am talking about the rife or the life part. I have been on a bit of a reverse facebook binge if you will. With all the free time allotted to me here, I feel that it is far, far too easy to slip into the blackhole (both of good and evil) that is the internet. When you finally muster up the energy to close the internet browser then comes the black box of laziness that is the external hard drive complete with damn near every series of television that I have ever wanted/needed/never should have started watching on it. I actually don’t consider myself to have been all that lazy over the last two weeks although there have been few moments laying in bed with a laptop on my belly, and a movie and minesweeper open on my desktop. Something about growing up in the great generation of multi-taskers has enabled me to detect mines and simultaneously watch a serious movie out of the corner of my mind.

That all being said I have been trying to find new things in my village to entertain this mind. I have successfully found what I previously did not believe to be in my village: a gym. It is hands down the best gym I have ever worked out in—in my entire life. Why?

1) Because it lacks 50 televisions;

2) it is the size of my old living room;

3) its dilapidated structure has more character than any of the sterile, lifeless structures that I have seen in the states;

4) the weights and equipment are from a very classic yesteryear variety;

5) it has 1980’s Arnold Arnold Schwarzenegger posters all over the walls;

6) in Moldova you are not surrounded by meatheads flexing their muscles incessantly in the mirrors, instead you are surrounded by few people rocking sweaters and tracksuits;

7) and last and certainly not least there is an old pingpong table located in the back that has a certain holy allure to it where I get to play a whole bunch of really good Moldovans. I am currently shooting a 50% win rate. I’m trying to make you proud America.

Yes I realize that it is probably just a novelty factor, although let me have my moment, maybe I will finally lose that baby chub that I have been passively trying to lose for 25 years.

Some else interesting that happened recently was my first and second visit to the Russian dentist. Something I must say is an experience. The fact that I speak Russian instead of Romanian to him, I believe gained me a few brownie points, although my ability to talk about dentist-related specifics has not yet bloomed (it is high on my list), so listening to the dentist ramble on about something about teeth and the sound of the drill told me that I definitely had a cavity. Previous to this appointment I had made plans to meet a friend of a friend in the capital. The friend and her sister ended up being two very good-looking women, who I am sure I impressed with my incessant salivation due to a numbed mouth. Not exactly my smoothest moment. My tooth is fine now, although before I leave for Egypt I need to get the permanent filling put on, so maybe I will have the pleasure of telling you about another grand experience at the Russian dentist soon.

The picture that I have posted are pictures from one of the many holidays for Saints, I have a new respect for all of the saints of the past. They give a reason for celebration, there should always be more reasons for that. In fact tomorrow will apparently be another saintly reason to celebrate. Maybe I will be motivated to write about it.

Talk to you all soon

A-Ron

November 2nd--Two Weeks in the MiciHowdy Folks, I have been told that the most cliché line in blogs is “sorry that it has been so long since my last post”. I intend to never say it again or at least never again apologize for my inconsistency whichever way you prefer to view it. These past two weeks I have been staying in a different village named Milestii Mici. It was yet again another village that was beautiful and possessed a unique character that sets it apart from cities in the states. It is always interesting to get a glimpse of a different village here and it also relaxing to be back around native English speakers if just for a few days. I had another absolutely awesome family who I very much enjoyed talking with, although the fact that I was in a village with friends from the states it made it very hard to be home much at night because we all had more than a few stories to tell. The purpose of the two weeks there was to wrap up pre-service training for the Peace Corps, this might not make sense to you at first thought I have been a volunteer for about 3 months now, but I assure you it was the correct way to finish up training. We essentially got two weeks of language class and technical classes that answered a wide variety of the questions all of us have developed over the past few months of confusion. The two weeks was concluded with a conference where half of the current volunteers met up in the capital. One and a half days of what I thought was a made up of productive meetings, oh god what does it mean when I start enjoying meetings? Could this be the slippery slope of aging? Jesus, I am going to go check the receding hairline after this post. I haven’t decided if I am growing my hair out as defiant refusal to act my age or if I am acquiescing to it and simply growing the comb over while there is still time left. Either way Mullets are ok here, so I don’t have to worry for awhile. Anyhow after the conference was all over with we got to have a nice dinner at a local restaurant where we meet the Ambassador of the US for Moldova, a very nice and seemingly genuine person who was kind enough to give a memorable speech about his thoughts on Peace Corps and how he would like his son to do it as well. I personally liked the awkward silence that precluded the speech, it was kind of like when one person starts a standing ovation (you know when one person claps for a little while by their lonesome and then everyone chips in) except for opposite—a standing silent awkwardness—if you will. One person stood up in order to give respect to the Very Important Person in the room and then slowly everyone else did the same, although what was funny was that he was waiting for the champagne toast to talk, so instead of us sitting and waiting for that he got to make a fairly uncomfortable phone call while we all watched in silence. The night went on without a hitch after that and I even made it into bed at a reasonable hour, which is an accomplishment. All in all, I loved my time in the Mici, but I am happy to be home in Taraclia. It is great to see the babooshka and get back to figuring out some projects to do. It is approaching the daytime freezing temperatures here and it is pretty dark at much at 5 o’clock. I guess this is all part of the test that is Peace Corps service. Anyhow until next time, I wish you all the best. Cheers, Aaron

October 16, 2009—Winefest Welcome to Winefest: So what were you expecting me to say about Winefest? You probably wanted some sort of tale of how I made a fool of myself in one way or another (stories which I also enjoy), or maybe you want to live vicariously through an amazing event where I barged into a kitchen at a resort to find someone to vouched for my legality, drank a beer with a lookalike of Mick Jagger, made out with an older woman and lost a friend at the party only to find him the next day wandering around the large resort like a lost child (Sorry mama J)—which did to happen to me once, just not here. I can’t really give you either today. Although I did like this guy's bow tie: I can say that Winefest was simply amazing. It was exactly like Disneyland (but different): it had Mickey Mouse and Minnie Mouse riding around on a little train waving their puffy white gloves at passerby’s as if to say “hello”, it had rides to appease the bumper car junkies, and where it lacked Thunder Mountain it made up with a plethora of booths, some going for the traditional look of a fair booth, some in the shape of oversized wine barrels, and some looking like royalty owned them and of course all of them selling wine, cognac, and vodka at reasonable prices. Not to mention the шашлик (bbq), which was everywhere and delicious. There was a concert stage and a traditional music playing from every direction. So I suppose is it was like an affordable Disneyland made for adults. I had a great time. I danced my butt off for a long, long time and socialized with damn near everyone at some point.Proof that they stole Mickey: The Barrel booth: This was all a very good thing to do after a 5k run at 10:00 that morning. I believe I took roughly 9th place in this particular race out of maybe 25. I guess the funny self-deprecating thing that I can say about the race is that I never passed one person. I was that guy that thought he would try to pace one of the people leading the masses. After I realized the first group belonged in a much higher echelon of runners, I tried to pace the next challenger only to realize the futility also present in this attempt, and the next, and the next until I was in 9th place not to be passed again or pass anyone ever. I have no qualms with the outcome and I was proud with my 8-minute mile time, can’t complain since I have never fashioned myself a runner. I was simply happy that I didn’t give in to the oh-so-good burn in my lungs.Look at that game face:Anyhow it is bedtime, I hope that will suffice for now… hmmm how about if possible you all go out and buy yourselves a bottle of Moldovan wine if possible, for all of you in Walla Walla I know the nose may be in the air, but give it a whirl—variety, after all, is the spice of life. Peace, Love, & Aaron

Wine and Babooshka Sabotage This weekend is Moldova’s famous Wine Festival—День вина. I have heard rumor that this festival can be as good a drunken time as the well known Oktoberfest in Germany. This may be going too far, although I will find this out shortly. Saturday I will take part in a 5K run in Chisinau and then spend the rest of the day measuring the awesomeness of this festival. I’m crossing my fingers. I’m sure that there will be a blog post devoted to this celebration. If there is one thing that Moldovans are proud of more than anything else it is their wine. It is a tasty drink of choice that I happen to agree with. Some volunteers have ended up living with families that do not grow their wine, I am happy to say that is not the case where I live. My babooshka and I have made the standard house wine a few weeks ago as well as a cabernet yesterday. Just like the chore of husking corn, winemaking is a very family and neighbor oriented task. The babooshkas typically go up and down the rows of grapes picking large baskets full of grapes and having others run them to where I and a few others are cranking away on crushing the grapes and filtering the grape juice (best grape juice I have ever had) in large wine barrels. At the end of the day we made three large barrels full of potentially delicious вино. This is a tradition I would gladly bring back to the states with. It is a very fun hobby and actually a very cheap way of stocking your shelves with some decent wine. Smashing the grapes:

Babooshkas in the field:

My Babooshka’s grandson Dan (даник) What is work without a feast: So is this story is too funny to not tell. I contemplated whether or not to tell it for at least five minutes. So my babooshka and I often use a very primitive form of the telephone on a regular basis, she actually calls it a telephone. Every time a meal is prepared she knocks on the wall in the kitchen to which my room is adjacent. My house is oddly built, so the knock is actually the efficient thing to do, otherwise one must walk through three rooms (including the babooshka’s room) to get to my room. I usually come quickly because I don’t want to make her wait. This particular day of making wine was a tiring day and after we had finished with the wine, I lied down on my bed for a quick powernap and waited for the food to be finished. I fell asleep just long enough to get that groggy and dazed feeling that comes with initially waking up in the morning. I woke up to the telephone “ringing” and quickly jumped up and proceeded to the kitchen, upon opening the door to the babooshka’s room (like I always do) I walked in on one of the babooshkas changing. Whoops. My immediate reaction was to say «ещё раз», which is NOT the correct answer in Russian in this particular situation. It means “one more” or “one more time,” obviously my Russian reflexes are not up to snuff compared with my English reflexes, in which the proper response would have been “Excuse me,” or “I’m sorry,” or at least “whoops,” or any combination of all of the proceeding responses. Thank God I didn’t see anything and that I quickly made my exit. The thing that I find funny is that I haven't habitualized a apology yet in my Russian, that means I still have to think about it before I say it. Although I have made great progress in asking for more food. "Would you like another piece of chicken?"«ещё раз» please. It didn’t seem to bother her, but I was a little red in the face at the feast followed—although that could have been the wine.

October 4, 2009—Shucking or husking Koяn, whichever you like… Every day I take a short walk through the streets of Taraclia to my work. I pass by the brightly painted, ornate gates of houses, seemingly ceaseless barking dogs, geese whose days are numbered, school children dressed in their black and whites and a road that you cannot take your eyes off of lest you end up on it. Looking off in the distance I can see rolling hills littered with patches of sunflower and corn fields, barns overfilled with hay so much that the covered hay resembles elephants trying to fit into outhouses. Today I walked home to find a good percentage of the stalks of corn littered throughout my neighborhood. People buy the bulk corn and it is delivered to their front gate in one gigantic pile. They then have mini-work parties in which neighbors, family and neighbors that are family sit around these piles and husk corn until the pile is gone. There is a standard textbook approach to this chore, it involves about 5-7 people (typically babooshkas) sitting on stools doing nothing but husking the cobs and throwing them into one pile and the stalks into another, all the while 1-2 other people (typically men or children) stack the stalks back into another large pile for someone else to pick up the next day. These runners, if you will, also have another job (probably the most important) and that is to periodically walk around the circle serving shot glasses of wine to the workers. I couldn’t think of a more efficient way to accomplish this task, the social lubricant (wine) makes for hours of gossiping, joking, storytelling and getting the job done. Neighbor and kids: Initially I called this work, although after being there for a few minutes I realized it barely resembled the concept of work that I have seen time and time again back home. It was a community doing what needed to be done for winter and making the best of it. The perspective was turned on its head instead of focusing on the seemingly insurmountable pile of corn; the focus was on laughing at stories and socializing. I have had my fair share icebreakers and team-builders at jobs throughout my life, but none have felt as fluid and authentic as this. It was genuine experience that I got to repeat two days later when the new piles were placed in front of my house and I got to be the one pouring the wine.

9.24.09--Nuttier than Squirrel Shit…

Today was a good example of the peculiar situations that come free with Peace Corps servitude. I arrived at my office today ready for some thorough Russian studying—день как день—a typical day for you novice Rusky students. Everything was normal except for an inordinate amount of farming brochures lying on the main table. Soon after my partner came in with a hurried look on his face carrying a projector and a large screen for it. He mentioned that today we have a seminar in a nearby village and asks if I want to come because we will be leaving shortly. After standing awkwardly for a few minutes I realized that meant it was still going to be awhile and I took a seat.

We packed up the car (I believe a Volkswagen Golf) and headed to the seminar. I sat in my normal seat in the front where a combination of my “big boy” status and the seatbelt being semi-broken makes the closest thing I have to a seatbelt is the oh-shit handle located above the window.

After driving for awhile we came to a standard intersection where a police officer happened to be standing. We pulled off to the side of the road quickly, coming to a stop behind a car that had done the same thing. I figured this must have something to do with the cop, I assumed he would be coming to talk to us shortly. After about 5 minutes of waiting my partner gestured for me to put my seatbelt on quickly or at least act like it. I did and we pulled back on to the road and slowly passed by the officer who had been essentially kicking rocks this entire time. We turned left and parked on the opposite side of the intersection and waited for an additional 5 minutes, for what, at this point I don’t know. The car started to get hot so I decided to get out of the car and mimic the police officer by kicking rocks me in my own way, with a cell phone Sudoku fashion. A few more minutes went by and my partner broke the Sudoku silence by telling me to close the door, which I did, only to watch him drive off in a hurry, leaving me standing next to an older gentleman that couldn’t help but stare at the American. Ditched—I didn’t know just yet.

At this point I realized this was humorous and I should be telling someone about it. I called a friend and talked about the ensuing awkwardness. After another few minutes I realizes my partner had actually just parked a few blocks down the road and has not left his car. This you have to understand is both relieving and disappointing at the same time. On the hand it is great to have a ride, but on the other it would be a better story if that was the last time I saw him for the day. Another minute or two go by and he is pulling up to the same spot he initially left from and telling me to get in the car. I get in and we drive—maybe 20-30 feet forward—coming to another stop just off the road where a semi truck was getting weighed previously. Maybe, I think, we were waiting to get weighed on the scale. I have no idea why, but maybe. Just then, the original rock kicker, as if suddenly woken from his daydream, saw us and immediately approached the car and told us to move. My partner turned the car around and proceeded to turn left again parking on the broad shoulder of the road, now directly across from the direction we first came from.

As we approached the 20-minute mark of twiddling the thumbs, I was busy formulating my strategic walk through the grammatical minefield that is Russian. When out of nowhere a bus pulled up and the keynote speaker for the seminar stepped off. At some point in that 20 minutes of waiting I had realized that we were probably waiting for someone to arrive, although as to why the parking spot of the car required changing 5 times all within a block radius. I have no idea…

And it is more interesting that way.

09.22.09--A Day at the Cemetery

Yes I slacked on the last post.... I owe you one.

Just before leaving from the Vadul lui Voda I was asked to continue my excursion away from Taraclia and to venture up to northern Moldova for a few days to help clean up an old Jewish Cemetery. Sniffing my clothes I realized I could at least get a few more days out of them and of course agreed. I definitely underestimated how long the bus would take to get up there. The finger measurements I quickly did on a map did not account for the fact that the bus took the slowest possible route to get there. It was kind of funny to see the bus roughing it by endeavoring down roads I previously hadn’t seen buses take on. Suffice it to say I we made it there in about four and half hours. I believe there were about 6 volunteers total and we all stayed at a veteran volunteer’s house. The nightlife consisted of BBQ and longing for the wine of the south. Northern Moldovans from what I could tell don’t fashion themselves wine drinkers like the other villages I have been in, nor are they content with water so rachiu is the official substitute. I’m not going to lie and sugarcoat it: it simply doesn’t taste good to me. Reminiscent of rubbing alcohol. Luckily good food made for a good chaser J. Post project: Post-project photo op:The next day we went to the cemetery to do some work. When we first arrived the cemetery really didn’t appear to be all that big, but after a few hours it turned out to be a fairly large cemetery. It was very interesting to read tombstones that were in both Hebrew and Russian. It is always good to actually be able to recognize a word or name in Russian.One out of a litter of awesome puppies at the cemetery. This one in particular decided to nosedive into a puddle of mud shortly thereafter. The work at the cemetery was definitely not just our doing. The blood, sweat and tears were given by about 25 people I would guess. The event was organized by a volunteer and his partner who did a great job of doubling our numbers by getting a microbus full of Jewish girls from Chisinau to come up to the site. I got to use a scythe for the first as shown above. Not the most practical tool for what we were doing although it was fun to wield for a few minutes. Post-work consisted of a picnic at the lake sponsored by the bus load of girls, a trip to a small agricultural museum and playing in some very cold water. Museum: Water sports:Not one thing I could complain about in regard to this day… It felt great to actually do some work. The major majority of my time here thus far consists of studying Russian, so a day in the sun doing work was everything I could have wanted it to be. Hope all is well back home. Aaron

September 17, 2009--3 days at a resort—Ha First off, I have a proposition… I have about four posts that I would like to load onto my blog. I don’t want to post them all at once because no one reads the old ones. So I won’t post another one until there are at least 3 comments on this post, same for the subsequent posts. Deal? Oh yeah, they can’t only be from my mom either. J Anyways… I left my computer and internet at home for about 3 days last week. It felt incredible. I need to ditch the ol’ ball and chain more often. I will say that it was pretty easy to do so though because I was at a PC conference. The agribusiness volunteers and the Community Development volunteers got to take their partners to a training that was held at a pretty nice resort called Водул Луй Водэ (Vodul lui Voda). I felt like it was a very productive and worthwhile seminar that consisted of getting to know the variety of people taking on the challenge of Peace Corps volunteers. We also had translators so the plethora of things that have been lost in translation over the last month were made a little bit more clear—definitely still not crystal clear, but hey I’ll take any progress. We basically had a variety of icebreakers (which are much more interesting when you don’t speak the same language), informational sessions and of course post seminar late night meetings with at the beach. The walk to the beach, which reminded me of the lost boys from Peter Pan:The beach: Now I was confused about this beach because some people told me that the sand was brought in from somewhere in the world so they could have an amazing resort close to the capital. When I tried to pantomime and half-ass explain this to my partner I got a puzzled look and was told that the sand had always been there. I am gullible from time to time but I have no idea who to believe here because both scenarios are suspect in my mind. The beach has a feeling of being way too random for its location in Moldova and it was huge, but my partner is from Moldova and would probably know. Oh well I guess, a beach is beach here in Moldova I am happy to see one.

One of my favorite moments at this resort came on the very first night. We finished up with the seminar for the day and went in search of party juice if you will. We were told that the old folks home next door (pictures above) had a small store that we could buy beer at. The prospect of buying beer at an old folks home was already funny to me, but the better part came when I had to catch up to the group of Peace Corps volunteers that had already gone to the store. I forgot something in my room and was lagging behind. The building was fairly large and leading up to it was one long path lined with benches on either side, these benches were chalk-full of retired folks. Now since I had come late, an entire mass of Americans had walked by asking directions prior to my arrival. I walked around the corner to see the mass of aged people staring at me. I think they sensed the Americanness of my swagger and promptly started pointing the way to the store. I never had to ask a single question, each time I made eye contact with someone I would either receive something close to bicycle hand signals or a friendly conformational nod of the head seemingly saying “hello and yes, you are on the right path.” After making it past the long line of whispering old timers I made it to the store where certain stocks of certain beverages were mysteriously depleted except for a few warm bottles. Ah Party Juice: My friend Dave with 3 of the partners:My partner is featured below on the right hand side:

Lots of crows circling overhead at the beach:

That is all for today... rememeber the agreement.

September 6, 2009—The Comfort of Discomfort… and a few random pics from Cahul.

Last night I was warned of two things before I went to bed: 1) Watch out for the hanging lamp; and 2) don’t forget to close the gate when you go to the bathroom. I awoke this morning with a sense of urgency that I have found all too familiar in this country. I jumped up, struck my head on the lamp breaking it just a little bit more than it already was and went out to the outhouse where after a few moments of rest I began to decipher the sound I was hearing—it was the near-silent waddle of the ducks making their great escape. I rushed the process as much as one can and I returned in doors hysterically laughing at myself and admitted to my friend that I had completely forgotten his words of advice. I ventured back out (into stormy weather to find my friend’s host mother rounding up the ducks by force of broom. Pretty sure she had done this before, she was pretty fast. I felt like a huge help giving the last duck a threatening stomp before he finally entered the corral. Then I started my day the way I had intended, by eating. The Placinta (thank you ma'am--lol) BarYesterday I spent the day in Cahul, the biggest city in the south I believe. A few of the other “Southerners” here in Moldova met for what I like to call a “Southern Conference,” essentially drinks and good times with familiar English-speaking folk. Exactly what you need from time to time here. I enjoyed some hilarious stories and hypothesized ridiculous ideas for making money here in Moldova. A good Rusky friend in front of a beautiful church.Upon departing for Cahul I took only a few things in my backpack. Nothing too important: a change of clothes, deodorant, and books I needed to return to friends. The weather over the last month has been absolutely gorgeous; I believe it has only rained once since I have been in the South. I packed according to the weather I had been witnessing. During the night there was a pretty large thunderstorm, I awoke to have the pleasure of a very wet morning awaiting me. The walk wasn’t horrible it’s really all about getting passed the initial soak. I had the satisfaction of getting it over and done with very quickly. The mini-lakes and narrow roads made for water-logged shoes and a thorough drench resulting from cliché showers sprayed by passing buses and cars within the first five minutes of the twenty-minute walk. I got to the bus stop on time, turned down a few overly ambitious taxi drivers and entered a bus full of Moldovans whose silence was only broken by the squish of my size 12’s slapping the floor and the gurgle of the rainwater bubbling up and out from the impact. The next hour was spent listening to music and enjoying a very bumpy game of Sudoku. This particular bus did not take me the entire way to my village, but it got me within twelve kilometers I believe. After that I had to rely on my increasingly effective hitchhiking skills. The problem with hitchhiking on a cold raining day in Moldova in my area is that there aren’t very many people going down it. I stood in the cold weather shivering for about twenty minutes before I finally gave in and chanced missing a ride for a much needed cup of tea from the nearby convenience store. I exited the store and I decided to start walking all the while splashing the hot tea over my hands which was very refreshing. I did forget to mention that at some point in the waiting I started to laugh at the scenario, laughing in the sort of way that any passerby would reconsider the good deed of picking me. I only had to walk little more than a kilometer before getting picked up. I made it back my house to find that I had hot water and hot food again—something I had been without over the last week. In all my years living in the states I can think of only a few showers that may have topped this one. Following the shower I sat down to a new, delicious, and hot meal from my babooshka. All of this setup the rest of the day for being perfectly lazy and warm. I wouldn’t trade one element of the day for anything else. Sometimes it takes a tad bit of discomfort to experience some of the greatest comforts of our lives. Metaphor for the PC…I think so. Love, Aaron

August 26, 2009—Story time—Part 1. I just had a goose come after me like some goofy heat-seeking missile, not scary at all, just kind of weird. Something about the threatening manner of approach mixed with a complete lack of a perceived violence made me smile. Life is funny. So I read my first book in Russian. “Book” is not the right word but it’s the first word to come to mind. Let’s call it a short fairytale, albeit it took the time of a short book to translate: the little чёрт. It was called «Маша и медведь» or “Marcia and the Bear”—yes it felt like one of those Big Boy strikes again moments. Contrary to what you might think, it was a riveting tale about a girl not catching up to her friends quick enough and getting lost in the forest. Eventually she stumbles upon a hut, specifically one of those huts in which you knock and the door opens all by itself. Fairytale characters are always stupid, I have found, no matter what culture they are from (Much like the Crazy Cat Lady-referenced in an earlier post). Curiosity, of course, got the best of my little Marcia «маша-чек» and she entered the hut and waited for the owner to return. Here is a picture of the bear’s return to the hut:

I believe that маша-чек should have known better. She should have seen the Mushrooms1 drying and realize this guy is probably out of his mind exploring the recesses of his brain somewhere out in the forest. She should have seen whatever this thing2 is, surely it is used for more than its prescribed use in the fireplace. The bear—even with the loving, goofy look on his face—walks in and essentially says “you are going to be my slave and cook my food and never leave this house again.” Luckily, after crying for a sentence or two, маша-чек realizes that Bear is not the brightest bear in the woods, Bear has obviously explored those recesses a tad too much. She convinces the bear to carry a huge crate of Perrogies (A crate of potato and cheese dumplings, come on Bear!) to her grandparent’s house. Goof Troop begins this task not realizing that there is actually a little girl in the huge crate with only a plate of Perrogies resting on her head. He didn’t notice when he picked up the crate that a little girl was missing from his spacious studio apartment that he resided in. I suppose I’ll forgive him his pupils were pretty dilated. Long story short, the bear gets to the grandparents house and is chased off by the ferocious neighborhood dogs (evidenced in the above picture) that smell him when he sets down the gigantic crate of Perrogies in front of their house. I don’t mean to be critical but he isn’t doing the image of bears any justice by getting the boot from a couple of lapdogs. As you can see my Russian reading skills have taken leaps and bounds in a mere two-and-a-half-month span here in Moldova. I don’t usually throw the prodigy child jargon around very often but I think the evidence speaks for itself in this case. I bought a mug a few years back for my mother. The mug has a really amazing picture of myself on it (Smiling a prize-winning smile with a trucker’s hat, long oily hair, and a nasty inch-and-half goatee hanging off my chin) and says “World’s Greatest Genes.” Don’t hate. I’m just living up the great expectations bestowed upon me at birth! J Peace, Love, Aaron

August 23, 2009--Big Boy...

Currently, I am eating a common snack in this household called popcorn, contrary to what you might be thinking it is not popcorn. The closest thing I can compare it to is Kix cereal, you know like “Kix are for kids” cereal. They taste exactly the same and look exactly like puff-sized Cheetos lacking the orange faux-cheese dust. I am pretty sure I don’t like the taste of them, although they are nostalgic of a big chunk of land I recently left. I felt like a big kid today, I hand washed all of my laundry by myself. That’s right, no washing machine just me, some clothes, a bathroom, and brute patience—yes, the old fashioned way. It really isn’t too bad, albeit I felt a little funny shirtless with my bandolier of clothespins hanging up all my seemingly gigantic pairs of underwear. I think my babooshka (host grandma) was proud. She calls me “big boy” in Russian every time I do something well. Just another merit badge on my PC honor sash I suppose—you should be proud J. I feel like I need to further reduce the clothing regiment I have allotted myself. I wouldn’t want to do more laundry than I did today especially during the dead of winter. I have a set of socks each having an individual day of the week written on them. I’m starting to wish they had a particular month written on each pair. That way I wouldn’t have to feel bad about wearing a pair for an entire month. Today has been fairly uneventful other than the highlight of laundry. Some PC friends and I have possibly settled on a destination for the great series of holidays at the end of the year: Jesus’ B-day, my B-day and they advent of the New Year. We are thinking Egypt and Israel, today has been spent doing some market research on that possibility. It may or may not happen. I’ll keep you informed on that. Here is a random picture of my weird cat: The internet is being dumb... so you only this picture of my cat for now. I wish you all the best. Love, Aaron

August 16, 2009—Village Explorations Ahh Sunday the day of rest—a luxury given straight from боже мой itself. For some reason I found myself continually motivated to walk around town. I am pretty sure I walked near 10 kilometers and now I regret it because I did it in my sandals, not the wisest choice. The walk itself was very intriguing. I found a vantage point where I could nearly see the entire town. I took many pictures but they do the beauty of the day an injustice. I am trying to enjoy the days with sunshine as much as possible, otherwise I will regret it when it the rain comes and mutates into a harsher winter than I am traditionally accustomed to.Just walking around: Here is a picture of the main gate to the stadium: Many of the roads look like this: The rest of the day I walked through the streets taking pictures of random barnyard animals walking the streets. Sometimes it feels as though I live on a gigantic farm that has managed somehow to contain an entire town within its fences. I personally liked the driveway with a gigantic tractor taking up every inch of space in the driveway, not sure why I didn’t take a picture of it although I’m sure the opportunity will rise again. He won the staring contest:

There were two goals of this excursion: 1) to hike to the vantage point; and 2) to find the Bulgarian University in town. The view was easy to accomplish, but the University was not to be. It was pretty funny actually, I live on the opposite side of town as this mysterious University and everyone on my side of town seems to know exactly where it is located. Though when I walk to the opposite side of town where you would think that specific information would be commonplace—no one seems to know its location. I’m pretty sure I must have walked by the university and just didn’t notice it. I suppose there are other possibilities too, such as they merely didn’t want me to know where such a majestic place was, or it simply doesn’t exist and the joke is on me. I wish I could pull of such pranks.

The view from the top:

August 13, 2009—Food for Thought A few people have asked me about the quality and types food here. I suppose I will take a moment with this post to talk about the varieties here. In general you could say that Moldovans are a natural-food kind of folk. Not your typically hippies, but nearly every time you sit down to eat with another family they speak highly of their vegetables (and wine) slanging words such as organic and natural. I haven’t seen any practices that contradict their statements, although I highly doubt that they would pass the organic label test. Water for one thing is not purely water here. That being said I believe that the vegetables and fruit are extremely tasty regardless and I will undoubtedly eat them every day. One thing that I find funny here, not because Moldova is ridiculous, but because American culture is ridiculous is that whatever food you find yourself eating, you probably know what that food is much faster than you would in America. The obvious factor is a little higher here. Often times back in the states you could ask yourself “what is this that I am eating?” After a moment or two you have your “ah-ha” moment and you realize that “hey, this is fish.” Here that mystery is taken away, not a bad thing at all, but that “hey, this is fish” moment definitely comes when the plate is set in front you. I think this should happen a little more in America. It really puts the action into perspective. Rather than associating the aesthetically-pleasing package in the store with rabbit I now have a completely different association—a bit more graphic—not gonna lie. We have a tendency to deny what it is that we are eating. It is funny the more you think about. Instead of seeing a picture of a cow on a carton of milk or slab of meat, you will probably see some sort of caricature of that animal or another telling you that this is the product cows prefer. This is definitely not a call for vegetarianism or veganism, merely a note that maybe we should be a little more conscious of the things we call food. I suppose what bugs me is the way that we euphemize what we do. In our world food is magic and appears out of nowhere every day. Saying “It was either me or the cow—I won” loud and proud is much more acceptable to me, at least then you are acknowledging the existence. On a similar note I hear that chicken/rooster feet are pretty tasty—they are considered a delicacy here. I, myself, have not had the pleasure yet, but I will definitely let you know how they are when I finally do. On a similar note, a friend of my said something very simple and interesting the other day, he mentioned “the juice tastes like fruit.” I hadn’t had any juice yet, so the next day I ventured out to make the purchase and low and behold it does. It literally tastes someone juiced some kind of fruit in front of you and handed you the glass. As much as I love artificial flavor number 5, I Moldova wins in the juice department. And that is all I have to say about that. Typical meals Breakfast -Pasta and brunza (it feels weird to call it Macaroni and Cheese)

-pasta and eggs with something like ham diced up in it

-hard-boiled eggs -all accompanied with bread w/ a little bit of hotdog and a more traditional cheese melted on top Lunch -Always - one of the variants of Borscht

-Always – a variant of cucumber and tomato salad.

-Maybe accompanied with some sort of rice and chicken dish With nearly every meal that is not breakfast I have had some sort of cucumber, tomato mixture. A great salad that I hope to not get sick of, but most likely will. Sometimes it comes with hot peppers, sometimes with cabbage and occasionally with Brunza, which, I think is a pretty good cheese that comes from goats (don’t quote me on that source). My last family fed me it all the time but always told me that no one in their family appreciated it. Dinner -Always – a variant of cucumber and tomato salad.

-Maybe Borscht or Soup

-Mostly likely chicken, maybe rabbit. The one major problem I have with food here is the amount of oil put into ALL the food. Think about what a lot of oil would look like on, say, a salad or in soup—now times that by ten and maybe you would be getting close to how much is used here. I’m tired of talking about food and just tired in general. Goodnight.

August 8, 2009—Official Volunteer. No more training wheels.

I made it—to the beginning. Yesterday was the first day of two years of servitude here in Moldova. After 58 days of pre-service training I have been officially deemed official. The evidence can be seen in the following four photographs.

Not.

Almost.

Official. Notice the overwhelming sense of self-worth in my face…no…well try harder. I don’t mean to be facetious; it just comes a little too easy.

Yesterday felt really good. A sense of accomplishment accompanied me on my way to my new village. The pre-service training can summed up as simply as a good pain. It is a large amount of time and energy invested in the growth of your language ability and a time to be Pre-steeped (if you will) in the culture prior to the big submersion. Something I near-wholeheartedly agree is necessary for service. Toward the end of training you tend to get a little tired, a little crazy, and anxious to start the projects you have been assigned.

The van ride down to my village wasn’t all that interesting, just a lot of time for reflection. Oh yeah, I did figure out what the word for smoke detector was though, why you ask, because it was going off somewhere deep within my packed luggage within the van. Lucky for me it stopped somehow and people only looked at me weird for a little while.

The drive itself was beautiful. Gorgeous day mixed with a couple of good conversations on the bus and lots of music that seemed to fit the mood perfectly. I feel that the sunflower fields were trying to tell me something though. Sunflowers are very common here; many huge fields of vivid yellow and green patch the valley floors. The harvest is approaching within a few days for them though. In fields of thousands and thousands of sunflowers I would see the occasionally sunflower with its head up following the sun on its usual course, surrounded with the rest of its buddies with their bowed bodies nose-diving for the ground. There were two ideas consistently circulating in my mind:

1) Persistence, willpower, and sheer tenacity of seeing things through; or

2) The futile attempt at surmounting the inevitable.

The Peace Corps volunteer in me concluded that there was only humor in this moment with the Oracle.

Love,

Aaron

07.08.09—As Promised… ( I have a very slow interent connection right now, with plenty of pcitures to add, be patient i will add more soon)

Last night went very well. For our last night as trainees, we had a large celebration, in which all of the volunteers did something like a presentation, song, dance, play, speech or mix of the possibilities. I personally, as you all know, did a presentation on composting and had a part in a Russian play called “Terem Teremok.” Everything went very well, although our play didn’t exactly get the standing ovation that we expected. I blame that on the fact that we went after a couple of volunteers sang a beautiful Moldovan song that brought the house down. So we were doomed from the start, regardless of the fact that I had to announce that our play was over. J I laughed.

My friend David and I presented on compost with style. Despite our horrible accents and I think we got a few brownie points for being dressed professionally for our presentation. I’m pretty sure at least one person considered doing compost in their homes after we were done, although they may have forgotten about their enthusiasm shortly thereafter. My fingers are crossed. Besides it was more of a celebration of the time we had spent with our families than a time for lecture.

Here are a couple videos and pictures of the events. Sorry I do not yet have pictures of the play. I clumsy left the camera in my pocket during the event.

After all the theatrics were over with, we went outside to enjoy some wine and snacks. Some of my fellow volunteers contributed some ol’ fashioned chocolate chip cookies and of course a slightly different version of Tiny Weenies. It was funny and nostalgic at the same time, but not necessarily enjoyable.

Of my family my sister was the only one that could make it for this presentation. My host parents we off getting a party ready for my host nephew David, apparently when you are roughly one year old you get to sleep through a big party where your parents name your godparents. So after the Peace Corps I crashed the little tyke’s party. It was awesome.

Moldovan parties have three absolutely essential ingredients: Food, dance, and alcohol. Here are some pictures of the good time.

Walking up the next morning to travel to Taraclia was a little rough, but that was just because I danced the night away on accident. Dancing in a big circle is the typical fashion—it is called the Hora. It is pretty easy to catch on to, even for the most inept. I feel like my moves are appreciated in Moldova, or maybe it’s just the tie. Just like with the presentation the tie commands respect, not so much the moves.

Just when I thought my family couldn’t get any sweeter, they went ahead and bought me some departing gifts. My mother gave a really nice tea cup to go with some excellent tea and honey. My sister bought me a really nice daily planner that I had been planning on buying anyway, but had not told anyone that I needed. Either I come across as confused and in need of structure or she could read my thoughts. I still haven’t figured that one out.

Now I’m off to my swearing in.

Love,

Aaron

I just got down with all of the Pre-Service Training... Now I celebrate. I promise to share the stories in a few days, when I get back to a spot with internet.

Love you all,

Aaron

August 4, 2009 – I’m a Father. Шутка (joke) No, actually I just finally have some pictures of my family. We recently went to a beautiful lake just minutes outside of Ialoveni. The kid in the picture is my host nephew David, a good kid. We went to a nice little restaurant on the water. It was still under construction in a lot of ways, but in a few years it will be a very cool establishment. Complete with an outdoor gravel dance floor. I’m definitely going to make it back there before I leave.

So as far as things go around here, I feel like I have been in a constant state of crazy-busy anticipation for what lies ahead of me. It is a good thing although we are all simply getting tired. In the next three days I need to pack up all of my things for the move, act in a small play, give a 15-minute presentation in Russian on composting, study for and take my Russian placement interview, write a letter to the country director, and apparently take a couple small tests on safety and health. This all for some reason culminates this last weekend. Oh well, it’s fun. Here is the rest of my family:

From the Left there is Tanya (Host Aunt), Tanyeshna (Host Cousin), Svetlana (Host sister-in-law), Irena (host sister), David (Host nephew) and Sergio (host brother). All sweet as hell. So after PST is over I promise to start posting more. I’m finding it very hard to write on the blog with the limited free-time. Until next time, I hope all is well. Cheers, Aaron

July 31, 2009 - Coffee and a little ADD I have realized how bad coffee must be for me since I have been here in Moldova. I believe I was overdosing on americanos and coffee while in the states. I couldn’t help it Washington is renowned for coffee and I choose to work desk-jobs. Desk-job translates to “I am going to fall asleep in this meeting if I don’t start an addiction to caffeine.” During the first three weeks here I was having ridiculous headaches. I realized at some point that I didn’t have my coffee anymore, I had been drinking tea only. The headaches finally went away and ever since I have been fine. The last two days I ran out of tea, so I decided a cup of coffee each day would be fine. Today, major headache with no coffee. What the hell. I’m done.I know that was important but I must move on. So I’m not really sure what other volunteers experienced but election day felt pretty much like any other day, except I got to sleep in for once. We were told to avoid all the areas where lots of people would be and to keep a low profile. So basically, it was the first day I didn’t skip through the streets waving all of my electronics around like I was mad. Well I don’t actually do that, but I am definitely an obvious American here—backpack or maybe the sideburns give it away every time. I wonder if my next village is ready for my rockstar lifestyle of sideburns and backpacks—probably not.So I am going to be completely ADD today and change the subject again. If you must, drinking can be incredibly cheap here. I remember the good ol’ days in Romania when you could get a nice large beer for about 75 cents, Moldova has one-up’d that deal: with one dollar you can fill up your liter water bottle at the local winery full of red or white wine both of which being quite tasty. A liter of wine and an Aerobie frisbee pass the time rather well here. I have posted a couple pictures of friends at the local stadium doing exactly this. I’m still getting used to the concept of playing any sport in sandals. Soon I will be advanced enough to jog in sandals, which I saw a bunch at the stadium in my new village.

July 27, 2009 -- Ramblings from a Cafe Duet HeroOnce again some time has passed since the last post. Thank you for having patience between posts. Life is always interesting in these parts and I have had plenty to talk about, but no time to write it down—possibly a Rosetta Stoned moment. Submersion in a foreign country can feel like that kind of a trip sometimes. I am just about to finish up the pre-service training to be a volunteer here, meaning I have been very busy. I have to give a presentation (in Russian) on composting in two weeks. I am responsible for half of a 15-minute presentation. It will be challenging to say the least. In two weeks there is a little swearing-in/congratulations-for-making-this-far party. That is where I will give this presentation. Also, as if it wasn’t drilled into heads enough that we are children here, my Russian colleagues and I will have to put on a small play in Russian. The play is an enthralling tale about how a bunch of animals living together. The moral being teamwork and community are important. You all will truly miss out. It is crazy how close we are to leaving for our sites. In two weeks I will be basically cut off from daily interactions with Americans or English speakers. I am excited but obviously that is a scary moment that is just around the corner. I am feeling pretty good about the Russian at the current moment, I did pretty good on a conversational test that we had last week. That doesn’t mean that I can speak Russian at all yet, but it was nice to be reassured that I am learning at least a little bit. On a different note: Thus far three people have left from our original group of 62. It is weird to hear of people leaving. It is a personal decision that I completely respect, but it is quite sad to come to class one day and hear that another person has decided to take the god-awful flight back to the states. The reason I bring this up is because a very good person left our group the other day. The volunteer that left had been a volunteer back in the 60s in Africa (I think). The rest of his life he had been a consultant in agriculture and had some incredibly organizational feats on his résumé. He was a great source for an interesting conversation not to mention as an asset in the world agribusiness. As for why he left I can not speculate, although I can say that he will truly be missed. Many volunteers looked up to him and saw him as a great example of someone who loves the work they do. Maybe it was that we saw him as a future version of ourselves—loving the adventure/challenge of being a part of the larger world so much as to bring yourself to do it again. I believe many people feel that this is a once-in-a-life-time opportunity. For me, I see his mentality as a way of life that is truly inspiring to me. I believe that people eventually lose that urge to be challenged in their lives and inevitably settle. The trick is to settle extremely late in life, maybe that is the key to sanity. Who knows? Anyhow, that is enough for now. Life goes on. Aaronp.s. I now have black-framed glasses, therefore I have an opinion.

July 20 Pepto J + Politics Strangely I feel more PC-esque than ever today. I just had to make a special trip to the center of Chisinau to give the doctor a sample of my ailment. I know it’s not pretty but that is the way things are. The doctor believes it is Salmonella, or in other words food poisoning. There is a smaller chance that it could be giardia, which would be bad. Although more than likely I will have that at some point too, the Big G gets a fair percentage of the volunteers here. I feel like it would just be a new badge on my Cub Scout sash. I will not give the details of those afflictions, but you are more than welcome to venture out to fulfill the requirements for your medical awareness badge or at least for some funny pictures or descriptions of what it could be. Interesting events are nigh here in Moldova. Moldova’s parliamentary election is right around the corner. If you remember back to my initial post, Moldova has done this before. The first election ended with the Communist party winning somewhere around half of the seats and the rest of the parties calling the final vote fraudulent. This is the moment that the riots began to ensue. Winning a majority of seats is not enough to control the Presidency here. Unlike the US there are quite a few parties here, with about 5 of them getting a sizable portion of the votes. In the system that the US uses it is very rare for a small party to play a decisive role in an election. In most parliamentary systems the small parties play larger roles in electing the prime minister or president. In the case of Moldova it takes 60% of the seats approval for a politician to become the President. The Communist party had less than 60% so they had to bargain with the other parties to get the extra votes needed for their leader to stay in office. Over the last few months the parliament has tried twice to vote someone into office and those attempts have failed. The constitution here calls for a new election after two failed attempts to form a government. The new election is scheduled for the 29th of July. Well that’s what I know for now in regard to politics. What all this really means for me is that there are some really interesting articles and fliers everywhere in Moldova that I can’t read—in due time I suppose. Aaron

July 15, 2009 – New beginnings The adventure started out with a groggy 5:45 alarm. I rose and left the house in a hurry. I traveled to the bus station in perfect Moldovan fashion and even was there 20 minutes early. I sat awaiting my bus’ arrival at the designated 7:25 in the morning spot only to ask someone at 7:20 where the bus was. For some reason they moved in down 3 stalls. Crisis avoided, I was off to my new village for my site visit. The bus ride was perfectly fine. I talked to a very nice woman who turned out to know my new partner. Here wasn’t much that came of that talk information-wise but it was still cool to make a connection like that. I also talked to a few good-looking women with such pick-up lines as “I have a green shirt” and “What is the temperature today?” and after an awkward conversation with my teacher I realized I mistakenly said “I am virgin” rather than the preferred statement “I am a big child.” So when I got to my village I went straight to my future job site and we had a masa—big lunch, lots of food and drink. I met about 6 people including my partner, all of which were very nice and friendly. My partner is an older gentleman that seems to be a very wise. The office was small but nice. I believe I will be working with two of the people that were at the masa. Their names are Ivan Ivanovich and Natasha. Over the two days I spent the majority of my time walking and exploring the community. It is definitely a small town, but something that will be manageable. One of the most interesting characteristics about the town was all of the old communist monuments—which carry much more meaning than just a part of history. As for my new host family (grandma), she was a complete sweetheart. The house is nice and her Bulgarian neighbor is hilarious. She is already trying to marry me off to some Bulgarian women in the village. All villages are all different with their predominant language, some speak Romanian, some Russian, and some Gaguazian (a form of Turkish), as well as others. My village is predominately Russian with Bulgarian and Gagauzian mixed in. My host mom is a very small, cute 70-year old woman. I doubt if she is taller than my belly. Food is definitely up in the air in this village. The last day for breakfast there was a plate of 6 cookies lying on a plate each complete with a half-inch of butter. It was not my favorite breakfast thus far. My stomach has been on the fritz every since. I’ll spare you those details, that is for privileged PC volunteer talk—a subject that dominates most conversations. Well that is all for now. I have plenty to talk about although I have had limited time to do. I have many tests and projects that need to done in the next couple of weeks. So bare with me.

Salut everyone,

I am 7 hours into 28 hours of travel/layovers (considering no delays) sitting at Gate number 12 at JFK airport in New York. We took the bus from Philly at about 7:00 this morning. Right now I am waiting for a plane to Istanbul where I will have 6 hours to imagine what Turkey smells like outside of the airport. I have to say it is kind of a tease, Turkey is very high on the list of places to visit.

Well. Philly was a pretty cool place for the few moments I was there. The first night I walked around a bunch by myself because I flew in before a lot of people got here. My adventure amounted to walking 20 blocks and getting food. I was tempted to get the hot dog platter (highly recommended) which was a large hot dog stuffed with cheddar cheese and wrapped in bacon. I opted for the Philly steak wit cheeze whiz and onions. It was amazing.

Philly itself was very interesting. I only got to walk around for a little bit, but it was entertaining for the limited time I had. They had tons of building high murals and of course a plethora of historic buildings that the Northwest lacks. When I got back to the hotel I finally noticed in small print that the Liberty Bell was a mile away from where I was. Little bitter I didn't see that, but I suppose another trip to Philly wouldn't be so bad.

The next day was pretty much one big orientation chalk full of the normal fireworks that are orientations. I met the 63ish people that are traveling with to Moldova. I have not met a soul I didn't think was one of the more genuine people I have met in my life. 90% of the anxiety and stress of traveling was gone after meeting so many people in identical situations. Little do these people know how much of a curmudgeon I will be after 28 hours of travel--classic Jekyll I suppose.

Alright well I suppose that will have to be enough for this post. I'm tired and need to call some lucky souls before I leave the Motherland.

Drum Bun!

Aaron Eisenbarth

I said I would start writing on this thing when I got to DC and that is exactly what I am doing, except that since the last post I realized I had to go to Philly instead of DC. So as I type I am looking at what I'm assuming is some sort of coal or oil plant (big stack with fire spouting out the top) and U of PENN--kind of a funny contrast. I haven't had too many interactions with people, except of course for the people sleeping next to me on the plane and the taxicab driver who was half-yelling at someone on the phone the entire 20-minute car ride to the hotel.

I have nothing to do but go try to meet people for tonight, but tomorrow I have orientation most of the day. The following day I get to ride a bus to JFK airport and fly to Ishtanbul and then to Moldova. I'm assuming I may be a little grumpy at the end of that trip.

Well I'm off to explore some of Philly and talk to some Peace Corps folk hopefully they will be a little more talkative.

Cheers everyone,

Aaron

Buna ziua (Good afternoon),

Welcome to my first attempt at bloggin'. Not quite sure how I feel about labeling myself as a blogger just yet, I probably need to get some vintage black-framed glasses and need to be writing this blog on a Mac in a coffee shop. I may be generalizing. With that I will try my hardest to give you all (by all I mean mom & dad) an informative and hopefully entertaining summary of my Peace Corps adventure.

If you are reading this that means you are probably curious about how my adventures in Moldova are going. Well they haven't started just yet, but I have begun to learn Romanian and am excited to leave. I will be leaving for Washington DC for the initial training on June 10th and will most likely be headed off two days later. I hope to see as many of you as possible before I take off.

As for my new occupation I will be an Agribusiness and Rural Business Development Advisor. My understanding of what that means is that I will be doing consulting work for farmers, small businesses and co-ops. I believe that "consulting" will consist of a lot of strategic planning, cost-benefit analysis and facilitating the usage of newer technology. What I am doing will probably be changing a lot depending on the needs of the friends I am working with.

For those of you who don't know anything about Moldova, I recommend watching the video Places That Don't Exist: Moldova on youtube. It is very interesting and well worth the 25 minutes of oh-so-precious time you devote to it. Here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UmrLbTHBV3s

Moldova has also been in the news a lot recently for the riots over possible fraudulent votes for the Communist Party that has been in power since 2001. I suggest reading a few articles on that as well.

With that I need to get back to learning Romanian.

Noroc! (Cheers)

Aaron