True to Title

Today, I thought I would stick with the title of this blog and simply write some random things that I’ve seen/heard/learned in my short time in my village. And I’ve had a lot of free time, so this monster checks in at over 3000 words. Get yourself comfortable. And one point of clarification first - my host brother is engaged and will be married soon, and his fiancee basically lives with us. So throughout I refer to her as my ‘host sister-in-law’ because 1)That’s basically what she is, and 2) It’s a lot easier to say than "the fiancee of my host brother-in-law."

- People ask me all the time - more than you can imagine - if I like Moldova: when I tell them that I love it here, they in turn ask me a difficult question: ‘why?’ It’s a question I can’t really answer in English, let alone Russian, but I’ll give you a story that illustrates one reason why I love it so much.

Last Monday I was on a bus at the central station in the capital- the one bus every day that goes right from Chisinau to my village - and as we were pulling out slowly there was a delivery-type van at an angle to us (and right outside where I was sitting) also backing up, and I distinctly remember thinking that if the driver didn’t see us he would hit us: he was going very slowly so it wouldn’t matter much, but it could get interesting if contact was made. And sure enough, he backed right into us.

Now, I was in downtown Minneapolis once on a bus when it got hit by a car, and needless to say it was a disaster. There was zero damage to the bus (but the car was banged up a lot) and every passenger was unhurt, but it still took an hour to sort out - the police came as well as an ambulance, and I didn’t get home until 9:00 at night - and that was after getting so frustrated that I took another bus number home and walked a half-a-mile.

This time, we did things the logical way - our driver got out, looked at his vehicle (spotless) and the other (a large dent above the back-right tail light), shrugged his shoulders, and we left; no harm, no foul. It was as simple as that. No one was hurt, and it was simply a waste of time to do anymore than leave and get the passengers home as soon as possible.
Mark it up as a top reason why I really love life in this country.

- I finally bought a cell-phone the other day. Actually, I’ve always had a phone, but I finally bought a SIM-card to go with it. However, there’s one problem - I get zero reception in my village. We’re in a bit of a valley in what is a low point anyway, so I get nothing, although I do get reception in the regional center. And because we’re in a valley, I learned that if I go walk in the woods to a high enough elevation, I get service.

There is good news, however - much to the disbelief of me and the two Volunteers who I bought the card with, if I receive a call from America or another country, I actually get minutes added to my account - at one store the seller told us this in English, then at another store my friends asked in Romanian if it was true. When told yes, I asked in Russian just to be positive, and sure enough it’s true.

So if anyone is considering calling me, you’ll actually be saving me a bit of money. Just warn me first so I can either go into the regional center or go for a walk in the woods (although there are rumors that a tower is being put up some time in the fall - there is a large resort near and apparently people complain that they can’t get service while staying there).

To call my cell phone, just dial 011-373-698-258-27. If we’re lucky, I’ll have service. Otherwise, you can reach my house at 011-373-244-732-80, where someone will answer in Russian but should understand my name - you can get an international calling card for as low as four cents a minute. I welcome calls any time, but just be mindful of the eight hour time difference.

- Last Monday I went to Chsiniau so I could get my permit to work legally in the country. It’s easy enough to get there - two busses leave the village at 6:00 in the morning, bringing me into the center of the capital by 7:30. And getting back isn’t bad: there is only one aforementioned bus from Chisinau right to the village that leaves at 1:40 in the afternoon, and the last bus leaves from the regional center to the village at 4:30 in the afternoon and busses to the regional center are easy to get. So if I want, I can stay in Chisinau until 3:00 - not bad.

At first when I learned all this on my first visit to the village, I was really surprised and frustrated by how tough it was to get home. Then I talked to other volunteers, one of which lives in the far north and whom it takes six hours to get to the capital. Then I felt better. Even on Monday when I went, I woke up at 5:00 to get to on the bus, and I thought that it was simply the first of many times in two years that I’ll have to make the trek. And when I met friends at Peace Corps office, they told me that they had gotten on a bus as early as 5:30. So how can I complain?

- My new host family, because we have a farm, has a lot of work to do, and they are slow to ask me to help, with the exception of the sister-in-law. So on Monday when I returned from my trip to Chisinau I spent two hours in the evening cutting tomatoes with everyone, putting the slices into jars so they can be preserved for the winter. It was a good time, talking and actually feeling like a productive member of the family. I told my host brother too that if he needs help with work around the house, in the yard, with animals, to just tell me and that I’d be glad to do what I can.

- The other question I get asked all the time (aside from how I like Moldova) is if I’m either married of if I have a girlfriend in America. When I say that the answer to both questions is ‘no’, people get intrigued and expect me to instantly find a woman, marry her, and bring her home. I just let them think that and never really tell them that acquiring a wife is just about last on my list of things to do in Moldova.

A story about how odd it can get - a week ago, I went with my host brother and his fiancee to a get-together in the forest with some of their friends. Well, there was a girl there who’s in her second year at the university, who lives in Chisinau and who wants a chance to practice her English. So I chatted with her at the get-together and before I left, I gave her my e-mail and told her that if I’m in Chisinau and have free time we can meet and she can practice her English, which she thought was a great idea. That’s it.

So the next day I checked my e-mail and sure enough, she wrote me a note and gave me her phone number and told me to call her next time I’m in Chisinau. Well, I told this all to my host soon to be sister-in-law, who instantly predicted a future and within an hour had told everyone worth telling that of the series of events: she’s predicting a wedding already, despite my attempts to downplay the situation.

Every male - and almost every female - volunteer in this country has a person of the opposite sex thrown at them. I know of one story in which a girl stopped someone in her village and asked for directions to someplace and, before she know it, she was being ushered inside to meet the nephew of the woman of whom she had inquired. Also, its not uncommon for parents of students to approach American teachers and suggest, not so subtly, that perhaps they should spent more ‘one-on-one’ time working with their child, even offering to pay for private tutoring lessons (something which Peace Corps volunteers are not supposed to give). We were also all told from day one that for many Moldovans look at a single volunteer and see a Green Card tattooed to their forehead. Thus, we’re constantly aware of ulterior motive of the opposite sex.

That being said, however, I’m not going to absolutely refuse to help someone of the opposite sex who wants to practice English. That would be ridiculous.

- I finally know what grades I’ll be teaching, at least in the fall - 4th, 6th, 7th, 8th, 10th, and 11th. Sound like a lot? Trust me, it will be - the first month especially should be tough, but after I settle into a plan I should have few difficulties. As a friend of mine says, "I came to Moldova and the Peace Corps to work." I’ve never really shied away from hard work, and I don’t plan on doing so now. Plus, it’s only eighteen hours a week stretched over five days, I’ll teach no more than four classes in a day, leaving me plenty of time for preparation.

- At the central market in Chisinau I finally bought a flashlight, the best fifteen lei (just over a dollar) I’ve spent so far. Now I can get to and from the outhouse without problems at night and can even drink water after 6:00 - I had cutback in my pre-flashlight life to minimize potential trips to the outhouse. And the batteries were cheap too, as a pair set me back about sixty cents. Unfortunately, their life cycle is about as long as you would expect from sixty-cent batteries.

I also went to a stand to buy some sunglasses, and it took the vendor there about ten seconds to pick up on my accent. After talking her about her products in Russian, she suddenly asked me in English where I was from (she also asked me, of course, if I like Moldova and why or why not). It was quite a surprise, to have this young lady who sells sunglasses in the central market in Chisinau speaking really good English. I actually didn’t like anything that she was selling, but I felt compelled to purchase something. So I did.

- As much as I’m really like and appreciate the simplicity of life in the country - getting water from the well daily, bathing by pouring water over myself from a pitcher, brushing my teeth under the stars every night, even the outhouse is starting to grow on me - I’m very interested to see what winter will be like here. The Peace Corps gives each volunteer a space heater to use, and I’ve already decided that I won’t be using that - as anyone who lived at 1501 Sherburne in St. Paul surely knows, I don’t mind living in cold weather.

But in general, life will be interesting. All of the aforementioned activities that I really like will get significantly more difficult as the temperature drops. But I figure that everyone in the village - and hundreds of millions of people in the world - live in conditions like this during every winter in their life. The least I can do is live this way for two years. The people I really fear for are those of us from the warmer parts of the USA - there’s one guy here from Texas, along the Mexican border, whose seen snow twice in his life, and never more than an inch or two. Start praying for him now. And another girl from the West coast told me that she’s never really experienced weather colder than 30 degrees - when I asked her if she meant above or below zero, she thought I was joking.

- In my family, every scrap of food that is prepared and uneaten (or uneatable) by humans goes straight to the pigs. We have a small bucket that sits in the kitchen and which all such food goes into, things like the brine of a watermelon (which are really cheap - a large one costs fifteen cents) or the hard pit of a tomato. Even after each meal, all the dishes are first rinsed out with just water and that water goes into the bucket: if there’s enough time at the end of the day the bucket is boiled for a few minutes, but usually it just goes right to the pigs.

Two more interesting things about living in the country: 1) We bake bread here in an outdoor oven with fire - very interesting to see. And you know what we use for a fuel? Corn husks (the corn being stripped). Actually, everyone here uses corn husks for fuel; the corn is usually stripped and given to the animals, and to not waste anything the husks are burned. They actually make a great fuel, burning long and hot. 2) Last Sunday my host mom and I ate breakfast together and she left the table early - when I walked outside she was plucking the feathers from a freshly killed chicken, one that was twitching. About ten minutes later a turkey went down - my only regret is that she didn’t tell me about it before hand - I’ve seen a pig take a metal rod to the heart, and I wanted to see a chicken get it’s head cut off. But alas, I’ll have to wait for another day . . .

- We’re told as volunteers that we always need to have our official documents on us, either our passport or our green cards, especially in Chisinau, where the police are prone to stop any person speaking English. If a person has their documents, it’s not an issue - I know of one volunteer who lived in the capital for two years and been stopped dozens of times, and it’s never been more than a two minutes conversation. The police simply ask for papers, they are shown, and everyone moves on. It’s very simply if all documents are present.

And, as some people in my group learned a week ago, much more complicated if documents are not had, as a week ago two people in my group were stopped in Chisinau without their papers. After trying for a few minutes in broken Romanian to explain what had happened and to convince the police not to arrest them, their attempts failed and they were summarily led away in handcuffs to the police station. The Peace Corps gave us training on what to do in such a situation, as it’s happened before, and within two hours someone from the US Embassy had arrived to release them.

It wasn’t too big of a deal, but it did lead to a great story and two hours of terror for some friends of mine.

- There is something that happens to all volunteers here - some people are really annoyed by it, but I don’t really mind. It’s when members of the host family serve as a sort of spokesman for the volunteer in social situations. It happened with my new family already - we were at an event and people started asking my host sister-in-law questions about me, which she politely answered. But what these people don’t realize is that the only reason she knows these answers is because I first told her in Russian.

- All "Seinfeld" fans who stumble across this might be interested in knowing the following: there is an episode in which Jerry meets and starts dating a Romanian gymnast, and at the end of the episode they go to the circus to meet a Romanian friend of hers. When they meet they start speaking Romanian to each other, and I’ve always wondered if they were really speaking Romanian and if so, what were they saying.

Well sure enough, I have the DVD here with me with that episode on it, so I showed it to my Russian teacher (who actually speaks Romanian as a first language). Yes, it’s Romanian. The gymnast jokes with her friend, "are you so important that we must always wait for you?" and everything else is indistinguishable. Just thought that was interesting.

- One thing I was excited to see when I got here was how well I could communicate - I distinctly remember just how much I could understand when I was here six weeks or so ago (and it wasn’t much), but now I understand about 60-70 percent of what is said to me and about 40 percent of what is said to others. I feel like I have a firm grasp on all the language I know, to the point that I usually don’t have to think of what has been said, it’s just translated automatically in my mind (anyone whose studied a language knows exactly what I mean). Speaking is a different story - I can think clearly in Russian, but when I speak it doesn’t come out so clearly, but that is just something that will come with time, as the more often speak the more smoothly things will flow.

Now, the challenge is simply adding to my knowledge of the language

- Two final notes on economics in Moldova:
1) In Chisinau - like any large city - there are a lot of beggars on the street. But in talking with my Russian teacher, she said there is a general rule of thumb - the worse off a person looks, the more likely is just a scam. It’s basically common knowledge here. On the other hand, here are often seen old ladies out on the street, dressed in nice clothes with their hands out. These women simply have no money to buy bread and a hungry, and they dress up to maintain their pride. To these women it is always a good idea to give money.
2) My new village seems, at first glance, to be very poor - certainly much poorer than my previous village. But there is one big difference - my current village is largely agrarian. We are too far from Chisinau for people to work there, leading most people to work in the village on their farms with animals or in the fields. And it seems to me that "poverty" has a very different meaning for those in the city and those in the country. Whereas someone in the city is may be so poor that they are unable to buy something meat and it’s a problem, someone in the village might be so poor that they are unable to buy piglets to raise so they’ll have meat in six months. Basically, it’s very difficult to compare socio-economic status of those who live in the two economic sectors. That being said, I still love my new home and new setting. I can’t wait to get to work on Friday.

The Truth Shall Set You Free

I have a confession to make.

I haven’t been in the Peace Corps this summer.

The reason is simple - up to August 17th, I was not a ‘volunteer’ but instead a ‘trainee.’ I had to mark it down on all my official papers that the Peace Corps gives to us and there are also certain things that we can do as Volunteers that we are not allowed to do as Trainees - thus, I was not officially in the Peace Corps.

But now that’s all over, all the training and classes and loads of work. We had our language exam last Monday, the next Tuesday we had nothing except start to pack our things and start saying good-byes to the families, and on Wednesday we all went to Chisinau to prepare for the swearing-in.

First, the exam went well - I actually passes without problems. There were certain things that I made mistakes with, but that’s to be expected. It was conducted in an interview format, with a woman from Peace Corps asking me questions for twenty-five or so minutes - of course, all was in Russian. At some point in all the exams the testee had to do some sort of role-playing with the tester (one of the other Russian speakers had to ‘call a hotel and reserve a room for his parents’ and the other had to ‘plan a day leading tourists around Chisinau’). I had to ‘meet my new school director and ask questions about the village and talk about my family’). As much as I wanted to get frustrated with what I could have done better, I quickly realized that on June 7th when I got here I could barely communicate at all and now, in the middle of August, I had just spent twenty-five minutes speaking only this nightmarish language and doing OK. I can’t complain.

Tuesday (my birthday), little was done. We were all able to sleep in and, for the first time in recent memory, mentally relax. My host brother returned about 1:00 in the afternoon from his one week trip to the Crimean peninsula with his friends from the university, so we talked about that for a while. The three Russian speakers also met at school to talk with our teacher and hang out one last time there. When I got home from school my host parents were there (they were selling cucumbers and tomatoes in the market all morning) and I said to my mom, “Mom, I have a secret.” She gave me a . . . quizzical look before asking me what it was. When I told her it was my birthday she was surprised, to say the least - birthdays here are a big deal. But soon her energy was refocused on the most important task at hand - the evening BBQ party at the lake, one final time for all the families and all the trainees to gather together and talk. We were there for a few hours ( I have some amazing pictures too) and the wine was flowing (and sometimes tasting) like juice. Even the mayor showed up with some champagne to send us off. It was a night about which I have no complaints, the perfect way for us to leave the village and the families with which we had lived for the previous ten weeks.

Wednesday morning we left our village with heavy hearts - my host mom told me that she would miss me - I told her likewise and also told her that I would return to the village for a weekend the moment Peace Corps will allow me (more later). All three of us from our village went together, driven by the cousin of my friend Aaron. We arrived in Chisinau about 11:00 and actually had most of the day free - we had only to be at the Philharmonic at 2:00 in the afternoon for a rehearsal of the swearing-in ceremony and we had to be at a restaurant for dinner at 7:00. That was it. I spent the day first going to the Peace Corps office to get some books, then to a large store where I bought Harry Potter in Russian, then to the central bus-station before finally heading to the rehearsal, which was a fairly straight-forward event. From there I sought out and found the biggest Catholic Church in Chisinau, a place where they have masses in Polish, German, Russian, and Romanian, before finally heading to the hotel to clean up.

In the evening about thirty of us rookies went with to one of the nicer restaurants in Chisinau with about ten current volunteers for a few hours of drinks and dinner - it was an amazingly relaxed night in which we were able to really get to know each other (the ‘trainees’ and the volunteers) in a casual environment. The food was really good too, which didn’t hurt. That was followed up by a trip to an Irish place in town where we watched replays of PGA Golf on TV and listen to real Irish music on the radio. The night ended with fifteen or so of us
heading to a local disco in the capital, City, which we finally left at 2:30 in the AM.

The next day I was up bright and early at 7:30 so I could get cleaned up and head first to breakfast, then to the philharmonic for the big ceremony, which turned out to be quite the even. The US Ambassador to Moldova was there, as were several other employees from the US Embassy, as well as officials from the Moldovan government. Everything was translated into Romanian because all the families that we lived with during training were there, and it featured speeches from all the higher-ups present, a video about what we did during training, we swore in, and it ended with two very elaborate, intricate Moldovan folk dances that some of the trainees had learned from an instructor during the summer.

So with that, it’s official. My secret is safe to release to the world.

And I’m finally in the Peace Corps.

Notes:
- At the swearing in ceremony three of the trainees delivered speeches in our new languages - I was the Russian volunteer. On Tuesday afternoon I wrote the speech with the others in my village and my teacher translated it, and I spent the next two days trying to wrap my mouth around these crazy vowel combinations that exist in the Cyrillic alphabet. When it was time to get up and deliver, I did ok - I was really nervous because I wasn’t comfortable with the alphabet, but there were some great lines and the people really liked it.

When we were writing the speech we planed to ending with a comment about the great wine and thought about a joke about the beautiful women, but we Americans thought it might not be too appropriate (commenting about the women in such a formal event). When we told our teacher, she frowned at us and told us that simply, we’re not in America anymore and that such a joke about women is, unfortunately, all too appropriate - we ended up closing the speech by saying “We’re very glad to be here, and we would have to come sooner if we had known of the great wine and the beautiful women.” Needless to say, it was a hit. The crowed erupted, and people I didn’t know came up to me afterwards and told me how good it was. There was a lot of media at the event too, and a woman from Moldovan state television news came up to me and had my repeat the line on camera, which was replayed on the news last night (yes, I was on TV).


- I’m finally in my host village, with my host family. After the ceremony on Thursday my director came into Chisinau to pick me up and bring me home. If you’ll remember, it was the family with the father who was dying. First, you should know that the man has passed on - I’m not sure when, but it seems like it was at least a few weeks ago. No one around here seems to off or sad, but of course they are, at least a little bit. They have to be.

So far, I’ve spent the days just holed up in my room mostly, distilling water and reading with the day broken up by meals and trips to the outhouse and to the well to draw water. That’s about it. There are four people in the host family - sister Natasha (12th grade next year), brother Sasha (24), his fiancee, Anya, and my host mom. Of the four, only the fiancee talks to me much - they others really don’t, although it’s really my problem (more later). One thing I’m really excited about that I didn’t know - we have cats here. A mom and four kittens. I don’t really know how or why, but some time in the last three years I started to really like cats. Now, I have some. We also have a dog, numerous chickens who run around the yard, turkeys, two pigs (including one monster who’s at least 300 pounds), a few horses, and we may or may not have a cow. Not sure on that yet.

And in terms of the house itself, on one hand it’s possible to say that I’ve downgraded facilities - I’ve gone from an indoor bathroom with toilet and shower to an outhouse and an elaborate process of mixing hot and cool water, then pouring it over myself with a pitcher while standing on the floor of the bathroom.


However, here I live 150 yards from a densely wooded forest that I can stroll through any time I want, and every night I brush my teeth outside under the Milky Way. So clearly, I have some advantages here . . . .

- My host brother in my training village, Leonchik (colloquial for Leonid), had told me for months that he was soon heading to Chisinau for work some time in the middle of August. However, on Tuesday at the farewell party he told me his plans had changed - now, he’s headed to Moscow to work with his brother, who’s been there for a few months. He’ll go there and work for three months, come back for two weeks, then go back for another three months (he needs to come back to be legal). His goal is to open an internet café in the village, which is great. But it was a surprise to me when he told of his plans, that’s for sure.

- One problem I’ve already had with my language development is actually a personality trait - if I’m not comfortable in a situation, my ‘defense mechanism’ is to keep quite. Even in America - when we had our Peace Corps training in Philadelphia for two days, I didn’t really talk at all because I simply wasn’t comfortable with the situation (of course, once I start talking I don’t stop, another personality trait . . . ). Well here, because I’m not comfortable with the language, I don’t talk much (even in my training village). The problem is that in order to develop my language skills, I need to talk as much as possible. It’s just something that I need to force my self to do.

Another note on the language - last Friday, my first whole day in the village, I didn’t speak English all day (and probable less than 100 words in Russian). But nonetheless, it marked the first day in about 21.5 years that I didn’t speak English in the day. I just thought it was interesting.

A final thought: I’ve realized that the biggest challenge in learning Russian from English is that almost nothing translates too exactly - you can take an English phrase and try to say it in Russian with the exact words and it can take on a totally different meaning. Look up the word “go” in a Russian dictionary and you’ll see columns and columns of translations - it’s a half a page (in small print) in the dictionary I have.


- Now begins what the Peace Corps volunteers unofficially refer to as “lockdown” - officially, it’s falls under the umbrella title of “out of site policy.” For our first three months in our village, when we’re just out training, we’re not allowed to leave our villages for the night, even on weekends - if we want, we can make day trips to the regional center. From what everyone says, it’s the toughest part of service. We don’t really know the language, and if your in a village like mine there’s not much to do. And we’ve just spent ten weeks forming these intense relationships with people, and we’re not allowed to see them until Thanksgiving. Could be rough . . .

However, there is a reason for the policy. PC thinks - likely correctly - that if we didn’t have the policy we would be in Chisinau every weekend visiting each-other, that our language skills wouldn’t develop quickly, and that it would take us a while to integrate into the community, the latter of which is highly important for our safety.

- Our medical staff here is full of great information. For example, if you get bit by an animal, from a bacterial standpoint the worst is actually a human bite, with a pig bite a close second, a cat bite behind that, and a dog bite actually not too bad. To quote Bill Simmons, I just think you need to know these things.

- The Peace Corps provides volunteers with money for a tutor, so my goal over the next week or so is to find one. My first candidate is the future sister-in-law ( the one who actually speaks to me), but I’ll see. The money is pretty good - PC pays for sixteen hours a month, at a price of about three dollars per hour. That’s a lot of money here. I have on candidate in line already - my future host sister-in-law has a sister who speaks English a little.


- Finally, I will end by saying that Thursday was a hard day from the standpoint that all the trainees are not split up - we’ve gone through this really emotional, exhausting experience together as one for ten weeks, and now we’re apart. It was really, really hard to see some people go and to know that I won’t see them for three months.

But in the meantime, it’s time to get to work. As I told my director on Thursday, I’ve studied enough and now I just want to get to work.

This Is A Test

Up to this point in my Peace Corps training I have had two language proficiency exams - while I did fine on both, exceeding expectation, none were important. If I failed, there were no consequences. And yet, before both, I was amazingly nervous.

Now, on August 14, I have my final exam, really the only important one I’ll have - it’s the one which, if I do terrible on, will have some consequences. It will consist of five parts: 1) introducing myself and American and Moldovan host families, 2) navigating a store, 3) getting directions around town, 4) talking about my likes and dislikes, and 5) asking questions of the examiner. That’s it - should take about twenty minutes in the morning, with our results known soon thereafter.

For the Peace Corps, there are ten levels at which we can possibly test at, with Russian speakers expected to reach a level of four (Intermediate Low) and Romanian speakers, a level of five (Intermediate High). Occasionally, someone will get lucky and happen to catch fire the day of the exam - a Russian trainee a year ago scored a seven on exam, which was (and is) almost totally unheard of - I heard that at her second test a few months later, she actually did worse. (A side note - after six months of service we have a second test, and most people test at a seven, which is all that is really necessary to get around in society - most daily conversations are done at this level. In fact, the difference between the top three levels consist mainly of knowing abstract terms. At the end of their service volunteers have one final test that is scored on a universal scale which is recognized internationally so that we will be able to use it on a resume and everyone will know what it means. This test consists of a lot of questions involving politics to see how well the interviewee can discuss the abstract).

What do these numbers mean? Intermediate Low means that the speaker is "able to handle successfully a limited number of uncomplicated communicative tasks by creating with the language in straightforward social situation. Conversation is restricted to some of the concrete exchanges and predictable topics necessary for survival in the target culture." Meanwhile, Intermediate High speakers "are able to handle successfully a variety of uncomplicated communicative tasks in straightforward social situations. Conversation is generally limited to those predictable and concrete exchanges necessary for survival in the target culture." As you can see, the difference appears to be highly subtle - however, those who score tests say that the two groups are easy to distinguish to the trained ear.

It goes without saying that, as far as a week out, I was (and am still) frightfully nervous. The problem is this: when I took tests in school, I always basically knew what the test would be about, I knew what would be covered. And if I didn’t know what was on the test I would be able to improvise a little to save face. On this test, however, there will come a time when I will have no idea what to do or say. The reason for this is simple - the testers are trained to push our limits with the language, to see just how much we can produce if need be, to see just how of high a level we can achieve. In order to see how comfortable we are, they are expected to push and push, and it a guarantee that I (and every trainee) will eventually have our language skills broken. And it is a moment that I dread. If there is one plus, it is that we all know what will be on the test, leaving us plenty of time to study and, if we have to, simply memorize wrote phrases and statements to questions that we know are coming.

Another reason for my nervousness is simply my competitiveness - if I was perfectly happy with getting a four, I would be fine, as I can to that in my sleep. However, I’ll really be bothered if one of the other Russian speakers do better than me - thus, my quest to not get defeated is hugely important to me (my competitive nature is a disease from which I think I’ll never be cured).

And there is one final irony behind my nervousness - if I totally bomb and don’t manage at least a four (which I can’t imagine happening), then I simply need to get a tutor once I get to my permanent village and work a lot. Otherwise . . . . no consequences of too serious notice.

Notes
- Last week we watched a video on traditions in Moldova, and the one that had some of the oddest parts (as opposed to the American way of celebrating the tradition) was the wedding. Two things stood out:1) In Moldovan weddings, at one point the bride and groom sit in a chair and all the gifts that they received are opened and then placed on top of them - this includes blankets and what not. And this goes on for up to an hour. Apparently, during the summer, it can be torturously hot to sit there - in fact, after this part of the wedding the bride and groom usually change clothes because their first outfit have become soaked through with sweat. 2) At another point in the wedding a microphone is passed around and every guest is expected to make a cash gift to the new couple - the catch is, a box comes around with the microphone and guests have to say how much they are giving, show the money, then drop into the box. Needless to say, this can create some uncomfortable moments. From what I was told, for foreigners it’s acceptable to simply but the money into an envelope and discrete drop it into the box and then pass on speaking into the microphone.

I should learn a lot more about this in the coming months, as my future host-brother at sight will likely be married soon.

- You know what ‘tolstoy’ means in Russian? Fat. Although the name of the author is simply that - a name. It in no way is meant to describe his appearance.

- It’s amazing what I’ve become used to in only a few short months here. At first, it was an oddity to see a goat tied up along the side of the road, sidewalk, or anywhere (really, they are tied up in just about any open public spot). Now, however, instead of thinking "wow, that’s a goat," I think,"hey, that goat needs to be moved - all the grass around it is too low," or "that knot doesn’t look to secure." (Baby goats, by the way, are amazingly cute. Adult goats are amazingly scary looking). And a few weeks ago a girl in our group told us how she finally convinced her host family to stop feeding her so much when she stepped on the scale in their house to show them how much she weighs - the thing that everyone found most shocking about the story was that they had actually had a scale.

Changes like this have happened after only two months - I can only imagine how much my perceptions of things will change over the next two years.

My "Kashmar"

For the first part of practice school I taught students who will enter the sixth grade in the fall. Although their skill level wasn’t what it supposed to be, it was still easy to work with them because their text is easy to comprehend, the grammar easy to grasp, and the vocab useful and fun to both teach and learn. But that was just the first half. For the second half I knew I would have to teach students going into the tenth grade in the fall, and I knew only one of two scenarios would unfold: If their skill level was ok, it would be a joy because there is ample room to be creative with the text and have interesting lessons with the students, but if their skill level was poor, it would be a nightmare because the text would be very difficult to get across and the advanced vocabulary worthless because basic vocabulary was lacking.

Well, welcome to my nightmare (not the students, who do try hard - the situation is a nightmare, which in Russian is ‘kashmar’). The first day of class was Wednesday the 27th and I had seven students arrive - only four could even read the alphabet. I knew within the first five minutes of class that the next seven days of teaching them would be exhausting, physically and mentally, and it has been. Plus, I get added surprises like the one I had on Monday, when all the students went to the disco the night before and I had TWO students in class. That’s right, two. And on Wednesday I had four, and four again on Thursday.

But at least one girl is a wizard - she is visiting her grandparents in the village and is just attending our classes as a guest. The other students seem to - sometimes - put forth their best effort, and it’s up to me as the teacher to give them information. My goal was the same as it was with the littler kids - have them know more at the end of the class than they did at the beginning. And every day, I’ve succeeded. In fact, once in a while they really impress me - one kid last Friday asked a question that was highly advanced, but when I lesson planned it was the exact question I was hoping for.

And this week of teaching has been absolutely exhausting for everyone. As I told my host mother, everyday when I wake up I’m more tired than I was the night before. Really. And it’s not just me but all the American trainees feel the same way. Thank goodness it’s over though.

Now we just have basically one final week of intense language training before the exam on the fourteenth, which shouldn’t be too tough to pass. Then, on August 17th, we all officially become Peace Corps volunteers. The days are being counted down.

Notes:
- I’ve finally had confirmed for me what I’ve always believed - that 90% of being a good teacher lies in simply preparation, because kids can tell if and when a teacher is unprepared and will smell blood in the water. I’ll always remember my chemistry teacher for the first part of my junior year in high school, Mr. Green. He was as good a person as I had a teacher, kind to students and enthusiastic about his job. Unfortunately for him, it was clear from the start that he never really prepared solid lessons, and we simply destroyed him – he lasted only until Thanksgiving. While I don’t remember a single thing he told us about Chemistry, he did teach me a valuable lesson about how now (and how not) to teach.

- My host family finally has a car. For all summer up to now they borrowed the car of my host uncle, but now we’ve made a purchase. It’s a blue German Ford truck that can be best described as a station wagon with a truck camper on back instead of the non-raised roof. It’s ancient and was bought for 700 dollars on Monday. We need it because my host parents are done harvesting cucumbers (the tomatoes will take another month or so) and now go almost every day to the nearest town and sell them in the market. The car will now allow us to move more and sell more - the plan is to only have it for a year and then sell it for an upgrade.
And I finally found out how big our field is - three acres, half tomatoes and half cucumbers. And I have not idea how bug three acres is. But is seems big enough for just one family.

- Our culinary cross-cultural exchange happened last Sunday and it was a roaring success. Our host parents taught us how to make something called "vareniki," basically small dumplings filled with an egg/cheese combination. They’re much better than they sound. Meanwhile, the American’s made garlic bread and spaghetti, both of which only turned out ok because of the lack of quality products available. But the families seemed to like them.

- I’ve always heard it said but now I know it to be true - Americans are amazingly easy to spot, even without hearing them speak. Last Saturday us three Russian trainees went to Chisinau for food supplies, and while there we saw a dozen or so Americans without once hearing them speak. The tells are easy: white socks, carrying a backpack over both shoulders, just the way they (we) carry ourselves. It was quite the revelation to have.

- On Wednesday we had a "community activity" that was planned by us volunteers. We had a little concert in near the museum in our village, and the kids sang songs that we had taught them the previous week - my 6th graders sang "The Itsy-Bitsy Spider" complete with gestures, and others sang songs like "My Darling Clementine" and "Yellow Submarine." Afterwards we gave out candy and played a little volleyball. The kids we’re an absolute joy to work with - they will be (and already are) missed.

- Finally, I commented a bit ago about the religion here, how people often don’t go to church and what not. But interestingly, Saints Days are strictly followed. Wednesday the 2nd and Friday the 4th, for example, are Saints Days: thus, people don’t work in the field and are do not wash clothes - the holiness of the day is strictly observed. It’s a tradition that I love.