Host Family
After two sessions of Romanian language classes the new trainees were loaded onto buses with their luggage and driven out of the capital city to surrounding villages to meet their host families. (ONE NOTE: the first 10-12 weeks of Peace Corps is intensive training. Approximately ten trainees each live one village with different host families and meet daily for language classes. Twice per week the new trainees from all of the villages meet in Iaolveni (a hub site) for technical workshops.
My village is called Vasieni, and my host family is an older married couple who have lived there for, I think, roughly thirty years.. Yesterday evening, the van dropped me off at around 6 pm. My language instructor accompanied me to their door, where she facilitated the introduction. Meanwhile I stumbled over the little Romanian I knew in order to express my gratitude and say hello. Prior to parting ways with the other volunteers that evening, I joked that if communication got difficult with my host family, I would pretend I am on a wacky American sitcom. Little did I know then, how close this is to a sitcom. I will discuss in more detail next time…right now, I’m going to bed.
Monday – (written june 15th)
This whole trip got much funnier about forty-eight hours ago when an elderly Moldovan couple that speaks no English began hosting an idealistic twenty-something Peace Corps volunteer who speaks no Romanian. Cue the laugh track and the 80s sitcom theme song, because these hijinks are going to be fun for the whole family. Matt McCaffrey stars in: From Moldova with Love (and Giardia).
My first night with a host family was a virtual collage of America’s greatest TV moments. For example, miscommunication led me to stumble through the house after dark with a mouthful of toothpaste and saliva searching frantically for a place to spit without waking up anyone. I had a “will they or won’t they” moment with the outhouse (and just like on TV, sparks did fly). I woke up at one point in the night believing that the past few days had all been a dream. So, in some ways the last couple days have been hilariously stereotypical.
Of course, that description does not do justice to how interesting/exciting my living situation is. First of all, I don’t have Giardia. I do, however, need to distill my water, or boil and filter it – unless I want to subsist on the bottled variety. Apparently my weak American stomach is not up to snuff ‘round these parts.
As I may have already mentioned, I am currently in the village of Vasieni; approximately a 35-minute bus ride from the capital, Chisinau. It only has a few paved roads; though the deep rifts and numerous potholes on the main thoroughfares force one to adopt a different definition of the term road. Indoor plumbing is affordable to only the wealthiest residents. Although automobile traffic on Vasieni’s streets is not necessarily busy, cars and motorcycles commonly rip down the windy, main stretch at 40+ miles per hour.
The intermittent mix of hi-speed steel jalopies notwithstanding, the streets are commonly host to horse carts, pedestrians, children playing, large and small ducks, chickens, goats, and cows. There is a sense of shared vitality. On the road, everyone is in it together. They are part of something. They did not consciously choose to be here, but there is an implicit acknowledgment of others, and a tacit sense of empathy. It is not always kind or friendly in the American sense. It is devoid of pretense and, therefore, possesses all of reality’s jagged edges. It is not cold or sterile – not packaged or manufactured. The hardships Vasieni’s residents endure in order to exist on this planet have sharpened them. People are genuine. Lovingly genuine. Frighteningly genuine. Exhaustingly genuine. Excitingly genuine. Genuine.
In spite of some of the poverty I describe in Vasieni, one should not come away with the perception that the people have nothing. There are poorer places in the world. Villages and regions exist on every continent that equal and surpass this type of poverty. The people of Vasieni have their own houses. These houses are not tents or shacks – they have walls made of brick, stone, and concrete. These houses have electricity. They have windows. They have access to water through pipes, personal wells, or communal wells. Does this all make their struggles any less important? No – absolutely not. It does, however, underscore the vast differences in the way many in America live, and they way people labor to get by in places commonly perceived as developed – such as portions of Europe.
ONE OTHER NOTE: The above paragraph is not meant to guilt anyone into donating money to nonprofit organizations that seek to alleviate poverty (though if you’d like to do that, it would be cool), nor is it in any way meant to suggest that you, the reader, are not adequately addressing world suffering. Indeed I perpetually struggle to find my role as a relatively privileged person in a world of extreme inequality; I grapple with the topic frequently and have, to this point, been unable to come up with a cogent solution.
Why then, am I discussing poverty in somewhat stark prose? My main purpose is to create a context for my next two years of service here. So, to end a long post with a few short words I will say this: Moldova is a beautiful, impoverished, interesting, fun, frustrating, and amazing country with great people, great food, and great potential. I hope my time here will, in some tiny way, lurch an enclave of this land toward greater prosperity and happiness. So now, there is only one question left: How? And the answer to that is…ummm….hmmm… well, I’m not sure if I have that question completely worked out yet…but, check back later…maybe I’ll have an answer then.
Two weeks….do you guys like goats? (written june 29th)
Well right now I am sitting on a balcony outside my bedroom at my new/temporary home in Vasieni. I have just finished week 2 of PST (pre service training) and everything is going well. I have adjusted life here in Moldova relatively easily. Despite the moments of “tongue in cheekiness” in my last post, everything here is cool. Let me give you folks a quick rundown of what has been going on lately:
1. I am in Vasieni with twelve other volunteers. They are in the COD program (Community and Organizational Development). The remaining Peace Corps Trainees are grouped together based on their future jobs as well. The other jobs are English Education, Agriculture and Business Development, and Health Education. Basically we are all attending language classes together at our specific sites, and we meet twice a week in a hub city (called Ioloveni) for group classes and Peace Corps Info Sessions.
2. There are a lot of goats here. The goats are funny. That is all.
On Sarcasm…
Sarcasm it seems is an acquired taste. I say that on the heels of several sarcastic jokes that would have killed in the Good Ole’ USA but have flopped here in Moldova. This is both a bad and a good sign. It is bad because, as many of my fellow compatriots know, we Americans like to tread with a poignant, dry wit – one that is best enjoyed with a glass of scotch. Unfortunately, such comedic stylings just will not hack it here in Eastern Europe. On the flip side, this is positive for two reasons. First, it will force me to adopt a more genuine sense of humor that does not seek to elevate myself above my fellow man (speaking of which - as for alternatives to sarcasm, what does everyone think about ventriloquism?). Second, this is also a good sign because it means that my Romanian skills have at least advanced to the point where I am even been able to make a sarcastic wisecrack. Anyway, this entry pretty much sums up my meandering thoughts as I fall asleep on another lovely night here in vasieni.
By the way, I had food poisoning the other day. But that story really does not deserve an entry…unless you like hearing about that sort of thing. I should just say this: I felt like puke. I almost did puke. But nothing exited my body in an objectionable way (at least, not in my opinion). And I am much better now. PS – don’t be worried – the Peace Corps Medical Office has extremely attentive physicians. So trust me, I am in good hands.
PARTAYYY-TAYYYY!! (Written June 30th)
You’re a grand old flag, you’re a high flyin’ flag ….on Saturday I am going to be rubbing elbows and clinking glasses at the swankiest US outpost this side of the Nistru River. I am attending the American Embassy’s 4th of July Party. I am pretty pumped. Let me just tell you: I have tons embassy jokes that I have been sitting on for a long time. I will finally be able to use them (wow, that sounds ridiculously nerdy)! I will fill you all in on how it goes. But that’s about all for now.
One more quick thing – I know the philles have kind of sucked lately but, is Raul Ibanez still having a sick season??? Just wondering….
Okay, Things Happened…. (Written July 7th)
We had our Fourth of July Party last weekend, and let me just say “God Bless America.” I ate the first hamburger that I have had in weeks and it was glorious. When that processed cow flesh touched my tongue I tasted life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I can’t be sure but I think overindulging in food and beverage at some party in Moldova is exactly what Thomas Jefferson had in mind when he wrote the Declaration of Independence.
Prior to the party I sang the standard (i.e. my favorite) Fourth of July carols – “Your’re a Grand Old Flag,” “This Land is your Land,” “Yankee Doodle Dandy,” and “The Battle Hymn of the Republic.” The party had music, Americans, Moldovans, other Europeans, and lots of booze.
By the end of the night I was so intoxicated by patriotic feelings (and beverages) that I misplaced my wallet. Don’t worry, I found it the next day. But suffice it to say, the party was great.
