Nostalgia

The more I’m here in Moldova and in my village (a decidedly Russian word - where we differentiate between towns and cities, they differentiate between villages and cities), the more I realize just how much this place is like 1950's America, or at least what I’ve read about it. My family here cans a lot of food to prepare for winter (having just finished peas and apricots and started canning meat), there is a big reliance on public transportation, most people lack television options (we have in my house three channels, the state TV broadcasts of Moldova, Romania, and Russia), people spend a lot of time actually stopping and conversing with others - even the rotary phone we have here is just like the one my grandma finally retired only a decade or so ago. There is little in terms of flashy technology, people spend whole days reading, and there is a strong sense of community, as people are expected to greet each other as they pass. In a way, to enter here is to get a glance at nostalgia, at an American society that we are far removed from now. Even the capital of Chisinau, where I spent my last Saturday (more later on that), feels not like a modern ‘advanced’ capital but more like a rather like several small cities put together: rather than feeling like one city of 500,000 it feels more like ten cities of 50,000 that are all next to each-other. It is difficult to describe exactly but if and when I get some visitor(s) here, I think that said visitor(s) will get a feeling like I do.

And to top it all off, people still slaughter their own animals. Disclaimer: Somewhat Graphic Material Ahead. I saw it firsthand on Sunday morning about 10:00: present were myself, the two other volunteers in the village, our Russian teacher, and the Director of Training for the Peace Corps, an amazing woman named Galina Chira, as well as a driver from the Peace Corps who brought her up from Chisinau. We were all sitting around talking with my host mother when we heard the sound of a squeal from the backyard - there was no doubt what had started. I thought my host father and brother were going to kill the pig by cutting the jugular, but I was told that it would lose to much blood that way: instead, they tied the back legs of the animal and stuck in the heart. I won’t get too descriptive about the sound (there was nothing too bad to look at from our distance), but I will simply say, I now know where the phrase "squeal like a stuck pig" come from - I believe there is no other sound in the world quite like it. It’s gruesome. And there is no mistaking it when it happens. Actually, the killing itself was hard to watch and hear because while a cut to the jugular is quick, this is a slow, painful process. We all just stared in rapt attention actually, everyone but the two who where doing the killing.

But after the animal was dead it actually got really interesting. First they took what I would call a ‘mini-flame thrower,’ something the size of a coffee can, and singed off all the hair before scraping the burnt follicles. Then they and the Peace Corps driver (who jumped in to help) went over the whole body of the animal with the ‘mini-flame thrower’ and turned all the skin black - every square inch down to the tail. This was a long and arduous process, taking about an hour for the whole animal, done in a meticulous manner. After the skin had been scorched the top layer comes off simply and quickly with water and a rag - the whole body of the animal was totally white. Then my host father took a knife and scraped off some of the skin for us to eat - while the Moldovans were more than happy to dine (it’s a bit of a delicacy for them), none of us Yankees were willing to try. From there my host father simply cut off the head with an axe and (literally) gutted the pig, a process that was interesting to watch - he removed every organ basically one-by-one and scooped out the blood with a teacup. After this spectacle all of us associated with the Peace Corps departed for the part of the country called Orhei Vecchi (Old Orhei); upon our return we dined on freshly roasted fresh meat (I can now say that pig liver and heart are not too bad if roasted. Of course, I didn’t know I was eating pig liver and heart until long after we were done). And in a bit of irony, the morning of the slaughter my family here received a two new pigs, barely a few weeks old. From what I’ve heard, they’ll be ready by Christmas.

Orhei Vecchi was also amazing - it’s a settlement that’s literally thousands of years old, as evidenced by relics that they have in the museum on site. It is tough to describe but basically, try to imagine two or three very steep hills that are packed within a few hundred yards of each other - it’s a natural fortress for anyone there, making it the reason why it was settled so early. Within the sides of the hills are several monasteries, none of which are currently operating but one of which we were able to walk around in - very old and very peaceful. There is one section where the monk’s slept that has a very short ceiling - it was designed so that the monks, before and after sleep, had their heads bowed to God. A simple but effective tactic, to say the least. They had a lot of religious things there, and I was very close to buying a copy of the Lords Prayer in Russian - sadly, I only had a large bill and the prayer was only a few lei. They hate to break things like that, especially in a setting such as that. So alas, for another time . . . .

Also, the aforementioned day in Chisinau on Saturday afternoon was great. Thirty-six of the thirty-eight trainees attended, and we were escorted in our town by some volunteers who have been here for a while. We rented two rutiera’s (small buses / large vans) for the thirty mile trek at a cost of one dollar per person. Upon arrival in the capital we split up into groups of eight or so and received a walking tour of the center city, of everything that we’ll need to know about for the next two years. Some of it was things that we’ve seen before but nonetheless, it was still a great day. We were able to walk around, ask questions, and get answers outside the earshot of Peace Corps staff, and as a result there was a certain levity in the air. We all were able to crowd aboard one bus for the way home, and in the back where I was sitting there was a man, possibly drunk, who spoke to some of us in half-Romanian and half-Russian: oddly enough, although the Russian speakers and the Romanian speakers could both understand maybe twenty-five percent of what he told us, together we still only understood only twenty-five percent. Strange how that worked out . . . . But it was a great day nonetheless, one that was both relaxing and exciting at the same time; on one hand it was great to get out of our villages for an afternoon and to be away from PC staff for some time, but on the other hand we left our homes about 7:45 in the morning and returned at 10:15 at night. And this was at then end of a long week in which we traveled four times and had little chance to stop and catch our breathe.

Random Notes
- Our language skills are continuing to advance at a more than acceptable rate. The previously mentioned Galina Chira visited our class last week and she was even surprised by the level on which we operate, by the depths of the grammar into which we have already delved. It’s a good compliment to have, that’s for sure, both to the students and to the teacher. Communication is still tough at times, but I can say with confidence that I can navigate places like markets or restaurants and be just fine in talking with people, asking what they have and how much it is. It’s a breeze now. Next Wednesday is our first Language Assessment, one that is informal really but one that is designed to give all the trainees an idea of where we are in the big scheme. I’m not too worried - my teacher knows what we will be tested on and we all trust her to get us prepared. After that, it’s up to us to put in the work. Also interesting as that we just completed our self-evaluations about our progress. While all of us Russian speakers were especially hard on ourselves, our teacher was epically kind. Every day so far I after class I feel like I have a firm grasp of things but when I get home I quickly feel like I know nothing. I can say though that every day or so I am able to communicate more and more at home.

- It rains here every day. No joke. It’s amazing really, weather I’m not used to at all. It seems like our village in Ivansha is in it’s own little weather pocket, as there are times when it will be literally pouring here but when we get into a car and drive a little (as few as two miles), there not only is no rain but things are totally dry. Even the day of the pig festival was something to behold - in the late morning there was hardly a cloud in the sky when all of a sudden the rain came hard. Where did it come from? No one really knows. But it was something to behold. Then, at Orhei Vecchi, we were putting on sun-tan lotion one minute and no more than thirty minutes later were looking for rain jackets. I’ve never seen weather like this, but I met a guy from Montana on Saturday in Chisinau who said we was used to it, that in regions which are more hilly pockets of weather can change things dramatically and quickly. And I will say also that I now know why this is such a fertile land - good soil combined with a constant rain/heat/rain/heat weather pattern.

- Being in a group of only three trainees (plus our teacher) has some great advantages to counteract the disadvantage of having to learn a tougher language than the others. One big example is transportation - because our village is so isolated, if the Peace Corps wants us at events they often have to provide a ride for us, something that happens a few times a week. So while all the other trainees in other villages are taking hot, crowded public transport everywhere, we ride around in a new, air-conditioned, Toyota Land Cruiser. When we pull up to the crowd of other trainees in these cars, we receive looks that are great. In this respect, it’s good to be a Russian speaker.

- I’ve learned a lot about the school where we study and it’s administration in the last few days. Turns out, our school is somewhat of an autocrat, and he and our teacher (a very strong-willed, independent woman) really butt heads. For example, he doesn’t like the fact that 1) He was not consulted about our host families before we arrived ("it’s none of his business" says our teacher accurately, as he has no association with the Peace Corps ), and 2) We are all staying with Moldovan’s for our host families, whom he doesn’t trust (he is Ukranian and our teacher in Moldovan herself - I’ll let you think of how his statement went over). Also, at our school there is a severe lack of teachers because he doesn’t want to ‘rock the boat’ - he likes the status quo now, no matter how odd things are. As an example, at his school English is taught but there is no English teacher. Doesn’t make sense? How does that work? We’ll, from what I understand the students basically teach themselves out of the text’s and a teacher will facilitate any exams. However, the teacher doesn’t know English. So you can imagine of how well English is taught around here.

- When I’m not studying Russian or writing entries for this thing, I’m reading. I’ve read two books in the last seven days and I’m about a third of the way through another. From what I hear from others, they are reading as much, a result of the fact that people can only study so much language in any given day. So to pass the extra time without the joys of ESPN or the internet, we read, between two and five hours a day. I’m keeping track of the books that I go through while I’m here so I can look back later in life and reminisce on these days.

- It’s great to have my future site all picked out (as I wrote about in the last entry). While all the others were stressing out for a week thinking of where they want to be placed, the Russian trainees were sitting back and grinning (and the others will won’t know for another week where the PC has placed them: they just choose preferences for now). I can’t wait for next weekend when we all will visit our future sights. We are traveling there as individuals, without too much guidance from the Peace Corps, so if we have any trouble it will be a good test of our language skills. Also, one thing I really like about my future home is that there is a large and well-known monastery in the village. I firmly believe (and have seen evidence in places like my second home in Dedenovo, Russia) that having an active monastery or convent in an area really brings something special to the local community, really imbues the people with a unique sense about them. It will be interesting to get there and see if it holds true in this case - I have a feeling it will.

- Fourth of July party Saturday afternoon in Chisinau, sponsored by the American Chamber of Commerce.
Should be a good time. All the trainees are praying that they will serve food like hamburgers, cheeseburgers, potato salad, and barbeque with sauce. That’s all we ask - is that too much?

- We were warned last week that this, our fourth week of training, is a difficult one. We’ve had our noses to the grindstone for a while now and this is when people really start to feel tired again after getting over jet-lag. The language starts to become a mess in the mind, and words that we’ve known for weeks we now have trouble remembering. All this has happened to me, but I take comfort in the fact that come July 1st or so, things will inevitable get better.

- I’ve had it explained to me a dozen times but still I don’t understand: why do people in this part of the world not smile in pictures? It’s remarkable, something to behold, how people will be sitting around having a great time, laughing and smiling until it’s time for a picture. Then the smile disappears, only to re-emerge the second the picture is over. People are clearly happy and joyful and full of life, and yet they refuse to show it in pictures. And I’ll never know why. I have a feeling I’ll get a reputation around my family as a ‘grinning’ American because while I try to culturally assimilate as best as I can, I draw the line at not smiling for pictures.

- Finally, I’ll end with this. Something I’ve been fascinated in since my first trip to Russia is the mentality of people living in the former Soviet Union. It was a government that provided much to citizens, and yet fifteen years after the collapse of that government, people still behave in some ways like it’s still here. That is why, for example, people litter as often as they do - because in former times there was always someone there to clean it up. Our Country Director gave us another example - go outside most apartments around here (Eastern Europe) and you’ll see trash piled up, paint peeling off, dirt everywhere. Go inside a stairwell and the smell can make your eyes water, the lights are broken, and mud is stomped. Yet step one foot inside any door and you will find an immaculate setting where a speck of dirt is considered unacceptable. Why is this? Because inside their own walls, where people control their own things, they do so with great care. But outside their walls, a mess is still a problem for "someone else." That’s one of the great challenges of the Peace Corps here, to get people to see things that aren’t their own, such as a park or forest, as "our" things, not as the things of "someone else." That is the real challenge into transforming the mentality of this society into something that will allow for a prosperous future.