Born Free . . . At Least The Next Best Thing
At my house here in the middle of Moldova my family has a few pigs, one big (at least 200 pounds) and the other young, a few months old. Usually they are both kept in separate cages, the big one on the ground and the younger one in a cage a few feet off the ground - the two cages are fifteen or so meters apart.
Well, last week the little one first managed to knock off the latch that kept his door shut (it was just a piece of wood held in place by a nail), but it took him a day or so until he figured that he could just jump down a few feet and roam free. On Monday morning I was home alone getting ready for school and he had escaped - he was drinking rainwater out of a bowl. When I got home my host brother was standing in the doorway grinning and pointing at something. It was the pig.
It spent the next few days freely roaming through the yard and garden, eating everything in site and having the best few days of his short life. And as a result of his freedom I’ve learned a few things important things: 1)Anyone who says pigs are smart has either never seen a pig up close for more than a few seconds, or they are a vegetarian. 2) Pigs are really, really happy when they are eating. And they eat anything
Notes
- It was an interesting Wednesday, October 4th and Thursday, October 5th for me here in the middle of Moldova.
First, on Wednesday I went to our regional center Calarasi where a lot of teachers from our region gathered and received various certificates for success. Our school received something for being the best in the region for preparing the school for the start of the year. Ten or teachers from our school went, and overall it was interesting - the first half when they gave away the recognition. It was all in Romanian but still, enjoyable.
Then, it all went down hill when a ‘concert’ of sorts started. I use the term ‘concert’ because a concert involves music, and I wouldn’t call when transpired ‘music.’ It was basically an hour and a half of a guy singing these terrible songs (the only accompaniments were an accordion and synthesizer, bother blared at ear-splitting levels). And I couldn’t understand the music but it really sounded like he sang one song at least three or four times. It was, without a doubt, the worst hour I’ve had in a really, really long time.
Then Thursday, October 5th was a bit of a national holiday in Moldova - the "Day of Teachers." Every school in the nation celebrated it, and mine was no different. We only had three lessons in the morning, after which everyone - teachers and students - gathered in the courtyard in front of school for a little ceremony that lasted an hour or so in which students from grades one through eight all presented little skits or shows - very interesting.
Afterwards all the teachers gathered in the school cafeteria for a huge feast (including six liters of vodka) to celebrate the day, and it was a great event (more on this in a second). The director gave a big speech at one point and gave me a book of essays written by a teacher - "Up the Down Staircase", by a woman named Bel Kaufman. Naturally, it’s a Russian translation. Then, as we ate, every few minutes someone would stand up and say a few words of thanks. After a half hour my director invited me to say something so I gave a little toast in Russian, basically thanking the other teachers for doing the work they do and telling them that "today is your day. I’m not a teacher, I’m a volunteer." They loved it. Our local priest was there and when I sat down he asked how long I’ve studied Russian for - when they told him only four months, he seemed to be impressed.
Then later my director wanted to drink with me and asked me to say something: I said "Na Rok," which is Romanian for ‘Cheers!’. He loved it - we were talking quietly but he quickly announced to everyone that "Andy just said ‘Na Rok.’" They couldn’t believe it.
- On public transportation here there are countless opportunities to see things you’ve never seen before and things which you would never expect to see on a bus. People often carry odd things ranging from a refrigerator to a lot of wire, which was so much that the man carrying it had to buy an extra ticket. And one time a month ago a couple got off the bus I was on and, unbeknownst to me, they had a goat with them.
- I just set a record for "time spent between showers." I went from a Saturday to a Wednesday. And I don’t mean the next Wednesday, I mean a whole week and then a Wednesday. Eleven days. And I was prepared to push it even farther . . .
- Last Saturday was one of the best days I’ve had in a while. First in the morning a Moldovan who lived with my family in Minneapolis for three weeks in September drove out to visit me with his children (he lives in Chisinau). His name is Alexander, and we had a great talk about the lives that we experienced (or are experiencing) - mine in his nation, him in mine. And his children loved the house. When the saw the aforementioned smaller big walking around they let out a loud "wow", and later I introduced them to the big, 300 pounder, which they really loved. He also brought me the sports section from five issues of the Minneapolis-Star-Tribune, which was so great to have.
But alas, Alexander had to work so he was here only an hour - but in the afternoon I spent five hours picking grapes with my host family at the home of my host grandpa. First my host mom asked me it I would go help, and I told her that of course I would go. So she said we would go in ten minutes, but the verb she used in Russian translates to "go by ground transport" (another verb for going on foot). It’s not a big deal to hear it, as it usually means we’re going by car. But when I walked outside I saw my host brother sitting on the seat of a horse-drawn cart, reins in hand, and my host mom in the back. Yes, we rode a horse-drawn cart the mile or so to the grandpa’s. It was a great experience.
And once we arrived there was a big crowd there, six or seven people, and we just tore through the grapes, picking about 1200 pounds in four hours. Picking grapes is actually not the most enjoyable experience in the world, as your hands get filthy and sticky from dirt and the juice from the grapes. But it was really interesting. Then, after work, we all sat around, ate a big meal, drank vodka and wine, and just relaxed.
- The Teachers Day celebration we had at our school, apart from the previously mentioned festivities, was great for other reasons. For me, as I stood there watching the performances by the students, I was amazed by just how comfortable I’ve become here. The last time we had a celebration like that was the first day of school, and at that time I just stood there wondering just what I had gotten myself into, not really knowing anyone or anything. It was a marked difference the second time - I chatted with students before hand, actually knew what was going on, and even chatted with the teachers there.
My situation with the other teachers is also interesting. Because I’m the first volunteer that this village has had, it has naturally taken them a while to get used to me, and slowly but surely I sense getting adjusted to my presence. It’s a good feeling to have.
- I will end by telling a story that describes just how different my life here is from what it was like in America:
Last Friday my host family all went to a concert in the regional capital about fifteen miles away leaving me home alone for a few hours after school, and because it was raining I didn’t do much. About 7:00 or so someone outside was yelling for my host mom and when I went outside to tell them that she wasn’t home the woman yelling saw me, quickly said something, and walked away - of all she said I only understood the words "cow" and "here." Then it hit me - our two cows go out to eat in some field everyday and in the evening, they are led back home - they simply needed to be let in through a gate. So I looked to my right and saw our two cows (mom and a young one) slowly walking away from the gate that needs to be opened.
So I grabbed a thin stick with which I could smack them if they wandered too far (like my host family uses) and followed after them - they walked about fifty yards to a corn field and started eating there, and to get them out I needed to walk through this thick mud in just my sandals, mud that was high enough to engulf my footwear totally. It took a while but I finally managed to drive the cattle back to our gate and into the barn.
I distantly remember thinking, as I trudged through the mud up to my ankles, that there was I, 23 years old with a 110,000 dollar high school and college education flowing through my brain, a degree from a great Liberals Arts university, and I was in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of Moldova chasing some cows and getting stuck in the mud.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
Well, last week the little one first managed to knock off the latch that kept his door shut (it was just a piece of wood held in place by a nail), but it took him a day or so until he figured that he could just jump down a few feet and roam free. On Monday morning I was home alone getting ready for school and he had escaped - he was drinking rainwater out of a bowl. When I got home my host brother was standing in the doorway grinning and pointing at something. It was the pig.
It spent the next few days freely roaming through the yard and garden, eating everything in site and having the best few days of his short life. And as a result of his freedom I’ve learned a few things important things: 1)Anyone who says pigs are smart has either never seen a pig up close for more than a few seconds, or they are a vegetarian. 2) Pigs are really, really happy when they are eating. And they eat anything
Notes
- It was an interesting Wednesday, October 4th and Thursday, October 5th for me here in the middle of Moldova.
First, on Wednesday I went to our regional center Calarasi where a lot of teachers from our region gathered and received various certificates for success. Our school received something for being the best in the region for preparing the school for the start of the year. Ten or teachers from our school went, and overall it was interesting - the first half when they gave away the recognition. It was all in Romanian but still, enjoyable.
Then, it all went down hill when a ‘concert’ of sorts started. I use the term ‘concert’ because a concert involves music, and I wouldn’t call when transpired ‘music.’ It was basically an hour and a half of a guy singing these terrible songs (the only accompaniments were an accordion and synthesizer, bother blared at ear-splitting levels). And I couldn’t understand the music but it really sounded like he sang one song at least three or four times. It was, without a doubt, the worst hour I’ve had in a really, really long time.
Then Thursday, October 5th was a bit of a national holiday in Moldova - the "Day of Teachers." Every school in the nation celebrated it, and mine was no different. We only had three lessons in the morning, after which everyone - teachers and students - gathered in the courtyard in front of school for a little ceremony that lasted an hour or so in which students from grades one through eight all presented little skits or shows - very interesting.
Afterwards all the teachers gathered in the school cafeteria for a huge feast (including six liters of vodka) to celebrate the day, and it was a great event (more on this in a second). The director gave a big speech at one point and gave me a book of essays written by a teacher - "Up the Down Staircase", by a woman named Bel Kaufman. Naturally, it’s a Russian translation. Then, as we ate, every few minutes someone would stand up and say a few words of thanks. After a half hour my director invited me to say something so I gave a little toast in Russian, basically thanking the other teachers for doing the work they do and telling them that "today is your day. I’m not a teacher, I’m a volunteer." They loved it. Our local priest was there and when I sat down he asked how long I’ve studied Russian for - when they told him only four months, he seemed to be impressed.
Then later my director wanted to drink with me and asked me to say something: I said "Na Rok," which is Romanian for ‘Cheers!’. He loved it - we were talking quietly but he quickly announced to everyone that "Andy just said ‘Na Rok.’" They couldn’t believe it.
- On public transportation here there are countless opportunities to see things you’ve never seen before and things which you would never expect to see on a bus. People often carry odd things ranging from a refrigerator to a lot of wire, which was so much that the man carrying it had to buy an extra ticket. And one time a month ago a couple got off the bus I was on and, unbeknownst to me, they had a goat with them.
- I just set a record for "time spent between showers." I went from a Saturday to a Wednesday. And I don’t mean the next Wednesday, I mean a whole week and then a Wednesday. Eleven days. And I was prepared to push it even farther . . .
- Last Saturday was one of the best days I’ve had in a while. First in the morning a Moldovan who lived with my family in Minneapolis for three weeks in September drove out to visit me with his children (he lives in Chisinau). His name is Alexander, and we had a great talk about the lives that we experienced (or are experiencing) - mine in his nation, him in mine. And his children loved the house. When the saw the aforementioned smaller big walking around they let out a loud "wow", and later I introduced them to the big, 300 pounder, which they really loved. He also brought me the sports section from five issues of the Minneapolis-Star-Tribune, which was so great to have.
But alas, Alexander had to work so he was here only an hour - but in the afternoon I spent five hours picking grapes with my host family at the home of my host grandpa. First my host mom asked me it I would go help, and I told her that of course I would go. So she said we would go in ten minutes, but the verb she used in Russian translates to "go by ground transport" (another verb for going on foot). It’s not a big deal to hear it, as it usually means we’re going by car. But when I walked outside I saw my host brother sitting on the seat of a horse-drawn cart, reins in hand, and my host mom in the back. Yes, we rode a horse-drawn cart the mile or so to the grandpa’s. It was a great experience.
And once we arrived there was a big crowd there, six or seven people, and we just tore through the grapes, picking about 1200 pounds in four hours. Picking grapes is actually not the most enjoyable experience in the world, as your hands get filthy and sticky from dirt and the juice from the grapes. But it was really interesting. Then, after work, we all sat around, ate a big meal, drank vodka and wine, and just relaxed.
- The Teachers Day celebration we had at our school, apart from the previously mentioned festivities, was great for other reasons. For me, as I stood there watching the performances by the students, I was amazed by just how comfortable I’ve become here. The last time we had a celebration like that was the first day of school, and at that time I just stood there wondering just what I had gotten myself into, not really knowing anyone or anything. It was a marked difference the second time - I chatted with students before hand, actually knew what was going on, and even chatted with the teachers there.
My situation with the other teachers is also interesting. Because I’m the first volunteer that this village has had, it has naturally taken them a while to get used to me, and slowly but surely I sense getting adjusted to my presence. It’s a good feeling to have.
- I will end by telling a story that describes just how different my life here is from what it was like in America:
Last Friday my host family all went to a concert in the regional capital about fifteen miles away leaving me home alone for a few hours after school, and because it was raining I didn’t do much. About 7:00 or so someone outside was yelling for my host mom and when I went outside to tell them that she wasn’t home the woman yelling saw me, quickly said something, and walked away - of all she said I only understood the words "cow" and "here." Then it hit me - our two cows go out to eat in some field everyday and in the evening, they are led back home - they simply needed to be let in through a gate. So I looked to my right and saw our two cows (mom and a young one) slowly walking away from the gate that needs to be opened.
So I grabbed a thin stick with which I could smack them if they wandered too far (like my host family uses) and followed after them - they walked about fifty yards to a corn field and started eating there, and to get them out I needed to walk through this thick mud in just my sandals, mud that was high enough to engulf my footwear totally. It took a while but I finally managed to drive the cattle back to our gate and into the barn.
I distantly remember thinking, as I trudged through the mud up to my ankles, that there was I, 23 years old with a 110,000 dollar high school and college education flowing through my brain, a degree from a great Liberals Arts university, and I was in the middle of a cornfield in the middle of Moldova chasing some cows and getting stuck in the mud.
And I couldn’t have been happier.
posted by Andy Buchanan at 6:17 AM
2 Comments:
You seem to be enjoying yourself and adapting very well. Keep up the good work and continue to have fun!
Perhaps the greatest things in life are rejoicing in the simplicity of the situation.. Sounds like wisdom through simplicity is the truest form of intellect.
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