Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Weather For The Ages

The sun flared down on the growing corn day after day until a line of brown spread along the edge of each bayonet. The clouds appeared, and went away, and in a while they did not try anymore . . . The surface of the earth crusted, a thin hard crust . . .

The above quote is from the first pages of my favorite book (one in which I'm in the process of re-reading), The Grapes of Wrath, but it could easily describe the summer of weather that we're having now in Moldova. We're in the middle of a drought, the worst that has been around since 1946, by all accounts. In my village there is a little stream and a little pond, both of which are totally dry and both of which, according to my forty-eight year old host mom, are dry for the first time in her life. Just walking around it's possible to see cracks in the ground that are literally, in some places, two and a half inches wide and eight inches deep. The land is, in a word, parched and it's not too much of an exaggeration to say violently. And it's an absolute, almost indescribable disaster. My host grandpa, when he is here, spends literally six hours a day outside, just looking at the sky and repeating, “There's no rain.” And the crops are suffering as a result. The corn is growing but the size and overall quality will be far lower than in normal years, and apples as well as grapes are in the same boat. Tomatoes and cucumbers are not growing really but can be found in the markets in the various regional centers, but at prices three to four times normal for this time of year.

The real problem, however, will come with potatoes, the staple food for Moldovans in the winter. As a woman told a friend of mine the other day, “we can live without tomatoes and cucumbers. We can't live without potatoes.” My host mom told me that ours here are coming in but with great difficulty, that they are far smaller than in normal times and that in the winter we'll have to buy them, likely – as already with tomatoes and cucumbers – at prices three to four times higher than usual. As a result, my host mom has already gone to my local regional center with the hopes of buying potatoes already, hopefully ahead of the pack, wanting them to just put them in the cellar until winter. She's stuck out until now but she'll likely succeed in the near future.

The people who are going to really suffer from this, however, are the same who usually suffer in times of crisis such as these – the poor. People will need to buy potatoes to eat, but if the cost of potatoes – again, the staple crop in the winter for everyone – will shoot up to three or four times higher, it will almost certainly break people. For example, my host grandpa eats only potatoes and bread at home. Literally. That's it. Normally this isn't a problem because everything he eats comes from his own garden while bread costs one dollar a week, but this year . . . and considering that his pension is 400 lei (around 33 dollars) a month, with prices shooting up – I can't imagine what he'll do. And there are literally ten's of thousands with him in the same boat.

To make the issue of weather worse, we are, in the last ten days, in the midst of the hottest weather that, by all accounts, has ever been here (at least people remember the year of the last bad drought – no one has ever seen this heat wave). When I wake up in the morning (embarrassingly, no earlier than 10:00AM), the temperature is usually in the mid-90's and climbing. Last Tuesday the temperature in the afternoon was 105 degrees according to our thermometer in the shade, with reports of the temperature in the sun being as hot as 112. In my room, I go to bed and the temperature is around 85 degrees, and I wake up and the temperature is still at 85 degrees (my friend in Chisinau has me beat – it's 95 in his room when he goes to bed). I go for walks – short ones at that, maybe forty-five minutes to an hour – and when I get back I'm so sweaty that my host family asks if I've been swimming. Having to sit in full mini-buses, with that many people crammed into such a small area when the temperature is in the mid 100's, should be investigated as a human rights violation. The cats just sit under bushes all day, doing what they can to beat the heat. It's unimaginably hot, and it's a wave that has actually struck all of Southeast Europe (I actually heard them talk about Moldova on the BBC on Sunday, saying the the government has called out for international aide in helping to deal with the effects of the heat).

The situation, as my host mom told me literally one hour before posting this, is getting literally deadly in many villages because of the lack of water in the wells. Our well is low but should have enough water to carry us forward for a while, but others are in big trouble. In our village there are two or three wells that are dry and there is a spring that normally runs all the time but they have recently turned it off in an effort to save water. There is a village about two miles from mine, a small one of 200 or so people with one well, and that one will is dry. The problem's with the heat and the cost of food will be troubling for people, but unless we get a fair amount of rain to fill the wells – and we get it soon – there will be nothing to drink. I think everyone knows what will happen if that takes place.

The depth of the heat fully hit me last Thursday, when I was trying to go to my regional center to meet up with another volunteer there. The driver of the last transportation option out of the village usually goes right in front of my house so I need only to stand in front of our gate and he'll come by. That particular day, however, was a new driver who took a new route, not going down the road in front of my house and instead taking the (one) other road out of the village. There is no worse feeling than looking up, seeing the (one) only transport option that I needed going by, and realizing that I couldn't take it and that I had no other option. As a result, there was only one thing to do – walk the twenty-five minutes to the sanatorium (more on the sanatorium in a second) and hitch-hike out of there. Making things further difficult were the facts that 1)Due to space concerns I was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, and 2)I was carrying a full backpack with clothes as well as a bag with my computer and two books. Needless to say, it was uncomfortable wearing all that, carrying all that, while walking along a asphalt street in 105 degree weather. To make matters worse, I waited there over an hour and a half at the sanatorium before someone came and took me with them and I stood there with nothing to drink, fearing that if I took off even for two minutes a car would come by and I would miss my chance.

Notes:
- When my friend was visiting me a week ago we went to the sanatorium (where a lot of people live) and he asked me if, should I want to, there was an open apartment that that I could live. I quickly brushed him off, telling him that nothing was free, and then forgot about the conversation. It should be noted, we as volunteers are required to live with a host family for our first six months of service but after that we are welcome to set out on our own. And I've been here almost a year, so I'm more than free to take off should I feel like it.

Well, turns out, my friend was a bit prophetical. Because last Thursday, when I went to visit the volunteer in my regional center, she told me that her host family owns an apartment in the sanatorium in which they live for four weeks a year and wanted to know if I want to live there the rest of the time.

At first I was a little incredulous and dismissed any thought at leaving my host family, with whom I have minimal problems. But the more I thought about it the more I realized that living alone might be better. A lot better. It's not that I don't like my family – indeed, nothing could be farther from the truth, as they're great. The main thing is, I'm kind of bothered here. If I want to invite friends over I need to get permission. I need to eat when my family eats, what they give me to eat. And there are a lot of things along the lines of the following example: last Tuesday night I had one goal, to take a 'shower.' I wanted to at 8:00 at night, but my host sister had the same idea and was in the bathroom. At 8:30 I tried again but we had guests over and I couldn't really go into the kitchen. Same at 9:00. And and 9:30. At 9:45 they had left but my host mom was again washing up in the bathroom. Finally, at 10:45 at night, the chance came.

Like I said, this isn't a huge problem but more of a nuisance, the type of which I could easily live with for another but the type of which, if I can avoid by living alone, would clearly prefer. Of course, I told this to my host family, that I have a chance to move out to an apartment and that I might take it and at first they kind of brushed me off, but on Wednesday of this week when I told them that I was going to the sanatorium to look at the place they became nervous. At first my host sister, in speaking to me for the first time in a long while, asked me (not rudely, just politely) why I want to move out. Then later my host mom, right before I left, told me she wanted to talk with me and asked me about my options to live. I told here that I had not decided anything and I was still thinking but she responded that, if I was going to see the place, I was serious about moving. Then she dropped the bomb (again, not rudely but instead matter-of-factly): if I move out and take my 160 to 220 dollars a month with me, them my host sister will not be able to study at a university in Chisinau next year. That was a shocker. And when I got back we again got into a big discussion about what they will do if I move out. I brought up the scenario about what they would do if, tomorrow, I got a phone call from America saying something happened and I needed to be on the first plane out. She said that would be a totally different situation. Not sure if I agree with that but I didn't want to get into a big discussion with them about it.

And as for the apartment itself, I have to say that while it's pretty small, it's not bad. There's gas and water and some amenities like dishes and things like that. There no TV but, with the money I would save by living alone, I would probably get DSL installed there. It's definitely livable.

The reasons for moving out are simple – here, in my village, I'm totally alone. I don't really have any friends, I don't really talk to anyone. It's ridiculously boring, especially in the summer. Behind the gates of our house I really like everything and everyone, but outside the gate . . . it's rather brutal (it's to the point where I've already decided that I'm done with weekends in my village. Finished. I've tried it for a year and have nothing to show for it in-terms of a 'community integration' standpoint. So I'm out). I told this all to my host-family and they don't really follow what I'm getting at. I tell them that, in a different place of residence, things maybe will be different. They clearly can't get any worse.

In a way, I'm already mentally out of my current place. Like I said, if I had no other option I would, with pleasure, stay here for another year. But knowing that I could live there . . . it would tough. But as I told my host-mom, I want to live alone but I also don't want to destroy their family here. Now my goal is to think of a way to move out and still help my family. Right now I'm thinking of a system in which I would pay them something like 800 lei a month (sixty-five dollars) and come to eat lunch with them every day after school. I would eat and talk with someone to maintain my language (so I would receive something) while they would receive something too, money to help support my host sister in Chisinau.

Needless to say, I have something to think about. It'll help fill the fourteen hours of free time I have every day.

- Quick note: A friend of mine from Russia is coming to visit me on Friday and we'll be stomping around Moldova for a week or so, so please forgive me in-advance for not posting for a while.

- Last Friday, in an effort to beat the heat, I took a bus three hour bus-ride to the north of Moldova to visit a friend of mine who lives close to a city in which they have a swimming pool. That's right, a swimming pool. Actually, five of us volunteers were there, paying a dollar an hour to swim (a bargain when the weather is in the triple digits) for two hours.

We had such a great time that, at noon the next day, we returned, although only for an hour the second time. We spent those sixty minutes doing running jumps into the water, doing the stupidest tricks we could think of while in mid-air. We laughed until we cried and it felt like we were in junior-high again, which, incidentally, was the last time any of us were able to have a full summer off without work or something to do. Frankly, in summer in Peace Corps Moldova, it doesn't get any better than that.

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

405 Days and No Longer Counting

From the moment we arrive here in Moldova we are told that one of the most fascinating cultural events we can attend here is a wedding. We are shown videos, told the proper protocol, and given little tidbits of advice on how to conduct ourselves there. I, however, had never had the chance to attend one until last Sunday night, and I must say that is was a cultural scene the likes of which needs to be seen to fully be appreciated.

I was actually invited to the wedding in a round-about way. I had heard talk in my village from my mom and others for about a week that the son of my school director was having a wedding on Sunday, July 15. I, having never meet the bride or groom, was not too worried or concerned about getting an invite, although I have to admit that I secretly held out hope that maybe an invitation would fall my way.

Then last Friday night I went to the one bar here with a friend of mine who came in for the night, and while we were sitting there a girl I know (also the maid-of-honor) came in with her boyfriend (brother of the groom). At one point she came up to me and we chatted a little (I hadn't seen her for a month or so) and she asked me if I was going to the wedding. When I told her that they didn't invite me she looked a little surprise and responded that, indeed, I was invited through the director and the bride (whom again, I'd never met and didn't know at all) were both expecting me. I was a little excited about this but didn't want to get my hopes up. A little later some people I know invited us to come and sit with them and they again asked me about the wedding while I again told them I wasn't invited, a response to which they were incredulous. They turned around and called over the brother of the groom, who again re-iterated that I was invited and that I would receive an invitation the next morning at some point, a statement which confirmed for me that I should be able to show up without an issue.

This point was reinforced the next day, when I asked a half-dozen people if it would be OK for me to go having not received a paper invitation but instead heard from the mouth of the brother. Everyone had the same response – go ahead. It's a village. They don't invite people in the same way we do in America. Mouth-to-mouth is how it's done. And as my friend also told me, I had two choices: 1)Go to the wedding and have a great time, or 2)Stay at home, read, and go to sleep at 11:00 while, because of my proximity to school, I would have been able to hear music from the wedding. That settled it.

It turned out to be, as I alluded to, a great time. What they describe as a 'wedding' in Moldova is what we would describe as a over-the-top reception in America. I showed up at 9:00, met the bride and groom (for the first time), congratulated them, and spent time talking with one of the 2nd graders from my school. People slowly trickled in until about 10:00 or so, when we all went into our school cafeteria to eat (we were waiting in front, outside in a little courtyard, until then). Inside we ate a lot and drank while people gave some toasts, the couple kissed while we chanted something in Russian (I think we were chanting the word 'bitter' but I may be – likely am – wrong on this), and some guy with a microphone walked around and worked the crowd, a scene which carried on until midnight or so, at which time we all went outside and danced and talked with each-other. At 2:30 we all went back inside where we ate again, drank a little more, and people gave gifts, although it should be noted – at weddings people give money. That's almost totally it, with the exception of sheets or other nice clothes. And they do it in a little of an awkward way (it seemed to me) – they go around with a decorated basket and people give a little speech for the bride and groom, at the end of which they announce how much money they are giving before throwing said money into the basket (the winner – 800 dollars, while my gift was 20 because I didn't know the bride and groom, an acceptable sum according to my polling, And I passed on giving a speech). This event went on until 3:00, after which we danced a little more before they started a tradition in which the bride and groom sit on a chair, bride in the lap, and they get placed on them all the clothes or blanket's they they've received (yes, the newlyweds were clearly very hot under everything). It ended with one final circle dance, the cake, and we left. I walked through the door of my house and passed out from exhaustion, having been up at 5:00 in the morning for two consecutive days (more in a second).

Overall, it was a great experience; like I said, the type of event that really needs to be seen to be believed. There was also, amazingly, another American there, some guy from New York who works in Bucharest and knew the groom because the groom studied there for high school and university. I spent a lot of the time talking to other teachers and some of the young people that I know, and I also got about 70 pictures due to the fact that I, in not wanting to busy myself the whole time, gave my camera to one of my 6th graders and told him to go to work, knowing I could just delete anything I didn't like (which led to a great scene at the table the next day in which my host mom and sister talked about who and who wasn't invited and had a running commentary on the outfits of the women).

If there was one mistake I made, it's that I went alone – my host family wasn't invited and I, unsure of my own invitation status, didn't want to bring a guest. While I really liked everything, I kept being cognizant of the fact that it would have been a lot better with a friend. Actually, there's a volunteer here in my regional center with whom I have a deal – we're bringing each-other to any weddings we might be invited to. Actually, there are rumors of her maybe going to a wedding on August 5th. So while I waited 405 days in-country to go to my first wedding, I might have to wait only twenty-one to go to my second.

And I'm already looking forward to it . . .

Notes:
- Last Saturday, the day before the wedding, was also one of the best times I've had in my service so far here. First, at 8:30 my friend and I went to a party at the house of the US Marines who protect the embassy, as they have an absolute mansion near the center of Chisinau where we hung out for a few hours (the ambassador dropped in too). We also met a Moldovan guy whose mom is from Moldova and whose father is from Kenya. He doesn't look Moldovan at all, and not only does he speak fluent English with an American accent, he has a kind-of 'street' accent. He actually had to show us his passport for us to believe him.

But we stayed at the house until midnight or so, after which we all got a ride in their white Suburban to a disco north of the center where, because we were with the Marines, we walked in without a cover and were led right to the prime table in the place. We ended up being there until 5:00AM, when the place closed, spending our time dancing and meeting people. We then took a taxi to our hotel before going to sleep at 5:30 before waking up at 9:30 (thus, I was exhausted after the wedding and promptly until 1:00 in the afternoon).

- All of this followed up a great Saturday featuring an oil-man from Louisiana here in my village. Allow me to explain.

Last Wednesday I got a call from my tutor here telling me that there was going to be an American at our sanatorium and museum here and asking me if I could translate. This being summer and me having no other plan, of course I could. So one of my friends from PC came here on Friday night and on Saturday we both went to meet this American who had come into our midst. Turns out, he's was from south-west Louisiana, and he works in the oil industry; his job is to extinguish fires in wells. Naturally, he's traveled all over the world and told us countless stories from his travels abroad (he's also, due to the lay of the hills and the fact that we apparently have natural striped-limestone in the ground, convinced that there's oil underneath the ground here. He said they'd have to dig a little, 6000-7000 feet, but it's here. Of course, this brought on an onslaught of “Beverly Hillbillies” jokes). Of course, what my friend and I really appreciated was that, because he had rented a taxi for the day, he gave us a lift back to Chisinau with him. This also led to the slightly depressing revelation that in a private car it's an hour and ten minutes to Chisinau, while through public transportation it takes at least two hours.

- As an example of how little there is to do in my village, last Wednesday I spent my entire day reading, to the tune of 320 pages. That includes taking two walks to kill time as well as eating all three meals.

- I've also revolutionized the way I travel, at least in terms of entertainment. I've started downloading Podcasts from ESPN, replays of Pardon the Interruption and Bill Simmons interviews. It might be a little bit of hyperbole to say that it's changed my life, but frankly, it's a little true.

- My favorite part of this week (not including the wedding or the five hours at the disco last Saturday night) was Friday evening. My friend came in at 7:00PM and while we ate we sat around talking and eating with my host grandpa. My friend speak Moldovan so we had a great conversation, drinking beer and wine and sharing questions and answers with host grandpa, who speaks Romanian and Russian both, although I had never heard him speak Romanian until that day.

At one point in the conversation I asked him when the last time was when he spoke Romanian full-time. The answer?

1957.

Monday, July 09, 2007

Pictures of the Family Get-Together



Attached here are some pictures from my parents' time in Moldova. The one on top is them posing by the sign for my village with our lake in the background, the second is of them with the family that I lived with last summer, and the third is my dad doing one of his favorite activities: watching the geese (with some turkeys in the background).



Thursday, July 05, 2007

The Wanderer

I did the math yesterday morning on a mini-bus from Chisinau to my village and realized that from the 5th of June to the 4th of July I went back and forth between my home and the capital of Moldova an amazing 7 times. That's means I traveled back and forth every four days, a shockingly large amount considering that as a teacher, I made the trip maybe once every two weeks during the school year. It was getting to the point that when one of the two drivers with whom I go saw me, they would give me a look that was a combination of “You again? Why?” and “It's been a while. Where have you been?” I got to know the road amazingly well, listened to over 250 songs on my Ipod, and finished two books. I spent fourteen hours of my life just inside buses/minibuses and spent twenty-seven dollars just on transport. I never spent more than three consecutive nights in one place. And this is supposed to by my vacation . . .

It was at that point that I decided to relax a bit (admittedly a bold statement coming from someone who has just spent three days in Istanbul and another two in Odessa). So I've decided to stick around my village a bit, not going anywhere for the next six days until I have to go teach two sessions of training to the new group that has come in. Yes, there is nothing to do and I may go stir crazy from boredom. But on the plus side, I'm almost guaranteed to sleep ten hours a night, I'll practice my Russian (which was fine when Mom and Dad were here as well as in Odessa but, like my mind is taking a vacation from Russian because of over-use, has in explicitly fallen hard in the last week). I'll read a lot, go for walks, add to my tan, and maybe get a hair-cut. It'll be nice to relax a bit.

Notes:
- As anyone who has read this recently knows well, I spent two days in the Ukrainian resort city of Odessa for two days. It's 5.50$ and five hours from Chisinau, and needless to say it was one of the best times I've ever had. We arrived at 5:20 the first morning and after talking with some drivers we found our way to the center, where we quickly met up with a woman who told us we could sleep in her apartment for 15 dollars a night, per person, not a bad deal. We followed her there and got totally set up by 8:30. We spent the day, from 1:00 in the afternoon to 6:00 at night, sitting on a beach and sipping beer. That was it. The whole day. At night we went down to relax and re-charge at 8:30 with the plan to wake up at 9:20, be out the door by 9:30. I set my phone alarm, double checked it, and went to sleep with my friend relying on me.

Then I woke up at 12:30, in the middle of the night. It wasn't clear at the time (and it's still not clear) what exactly happened, but all I know is that we wasted one of our two nights in Odessa. Not fun.

The second day proceeded a lot like the first, with us walking around the center of the city first before heading to the beach where we basically repeated the previous day's lounging around. At night, after giving too much gas to the boiler and having my friend singe off all the hair on his right arm (literally) after getting too close with a match, we departed to a bar near our neighborhood. Our plan was simply to talk to someone there and figure out where to go (our previous day's searchings had led us to two possibilities: One main street in the center or to a boardwalk area near the beach we spent the first night. In talking with the waitress she said that the center was no good; there was only one decent disco there and it were “a lot of Arabs and Turks there.” Her recommendation: the boardwalk.

So that's where we ended up, taking a taxi. It was great selection on the part of the waitress, as it was a lot of fun there, the type of place that was relatively dead because it was a Monday but which we knew would be a blast on a weekend. It was there that I had the aforementioned run-in with the cop and bought him off with a 1.20$ pizza, then spent the next three hours talking with these two French guys from Lyon who spoke English well and just happened to be doing a huge road-trip through Europe. We had a really nice talk and they bought us beer – who could ask for anything more?

- Last Saturday was the annual Fourth of July party sponsored by the US Chamber of Commerce in Moldova. Like last year, it was at a park near the center of Chisinau and was full of either Americans or Moldovans who had some association with the US Embassy or any number of US based NGO's (like USAID). It was a great chance to get out and meet some new people – while the Peace Corps community here is great, it's small too (only 125 of us) – so my buddy and I spent the night talking with some Marines who guard the Embassy as well as some Moldovans who had spent some time in America (including one girl who studied for a year at the University of Wisconsin – La Crosse). At night, after the party, two of my friends and I went out with a Moldovan girl I met (more in a second).

- Last Sunday was our graduation ceremony at my school for the 11th graders, another great time. It started with a ceremony at 8:30 at night at which my director gave a speech and handed out diplomas, and we quickly moved to a huge dinner in our cafeteria with all the parents, teachers, and students who either finished school this year or, for whatever reason, had to leave at some point. I ended up leaving at 5:45 in the morning, laughing on my way home when I realized that, on June 5th when I went to Istanbul, I walked out my door at 5:30 AM. That was quite the revelation to have.

- Finally, on Saturday night after the Fourth of July get-together a Moldovan girl I had met brought my and two friends of mine to a really nice bar a little north of the center of Chisinau. We were walking through the door when a guard pointed to a buddy of mine, scrunched us his face a little, and said, “He's wearing shorts. I don't know . . . .” Having a Moldovan girl there helped a lot and she started to negotiate with him in Russian, at one point saying “and they're Americans.” The guard started to perk-up a little at that, then asked us what states we were from.

“I'm from Minnesota,” I said.

He responded, “Minnesota, really? OK, I love basketball and play it all the time. Tell me, please, who is the basketball player in the state of Minnesota?

There is only one answer, of course: “Kevin Garnett.”

His faced brightened, he smiled a little, stepped to the side while opening out his arm, and warningly welcomed us in.

The Wanderer

I did the math yesterday morning on a mini-bus from Chisinau to my village and realized that from the 5th of June to the 4th of July I went back and forth between my home and the capital of Moldova an amazing 7 times. That's means I traveled back and forth every four days, a shockingly large amount considering that as a teacher, I made the trip maybe once every two weeks during the school year. It was getting to the point that when one of the two drivers with whom I go saw me, they would give me a look that was a combination of “You again? Why?” and “It's been a while. Where have you been?” I got to know the road amazingly well, listened to over 250 songs on my Ipod, and finished two books. I spent fourteen hours of my life just inside buses/minibuses and spent twenty-seven dollars just on transport. I never spent more than three consecutive nights in one place. And this is supposed to by my vacation . . .

It was at that point that I decided to relax a bit (admittedly a bold statement coming from someone who has just spent three days in Istanbul and another two in Odessa). So I've decided to stick around my village a bit, not going anywhere for the next six days until I have to go teach two sessions of training to the new group that has come in. Yes, there is nothing to do and I may go stir crazy from boredom. But on the plus side, I'm almost guaranteed to sleep ten hours a night, I'll practice my Russian (which was fine when Mom and Dad were here as well as in Odessa but, like my mind is taking a vacation from Russian because of over-use, has in explicitly fallen hard in the last week). I'll read a lot, go for walks, add to my tan, and maybe get a hair-cut. It'll be nice to relax a bit.

Notes:
- As anyone who has read this recently knows well, I spent two days in the Ukrainian resort city of Odessa for two days. It's 5.50$ and five hours from Chisinau, and needless to say it was one of the best times I've ever had. We arrived at 5:20 the first morning and after talking with some drivers we found our way to the center, where we quickly met up with a woman who told us we could sleep in her apartment for 15 dollars a night, per person, not a bad deal. We followed her there and got totally set up by 8:30. We spent the day, from 1:00 in the afternoon to 6:00 at night, sitting on a beach and sipping beer. That was it. The whole day. At night we went down to relax and re-charge at 8:30 with the plan to wake up at 9:20, be out the door by 9:30. I set my phone alarm, double checked it, and went to sleep with my friend relying on me.

Then I woke up at 12:30, in the middle of the night. It wasn't clear at the time (and it's still not clear) what exactly happened, but all I know is that we wasted one of our two nights in Odessa. Not fun.

The second day proceeded a lot like the first, with us walking around the center of the city first before heading to the beach where we basically repeated the previous day's lounging around. At night, after giving too much gas to the boiler and having my friend singe off all the hair on his right arm (literally) after getting too close with a match, we departed to a bar near our neighborhood. Our plan was simply to talk to someone there and figure out where to go (our previous day's searchings had led us to two possibilities: One main street in the center or to a boardwalk area near the beach we spent the first night. In talking with the waitress she said that the center was no good; there was only one decent disco there and it were “a lot of Arabs and Turks there.” Her recommendation: the boardwalk.

So that's where we ended up, taking a taxi. It was great selection on the part of the waitress, as it was a lot of fun there, the type of place that was relatively dead because it was a Monday but which we knew would be a blast on a weekend. It was there that I had the aforementioned run-in with the cop and bought him off with a 1.20$ pizza, then spent the next three hours talking with these two French guys from Lyon who spoke English well and just happened to be doing a huge road-trip through Europe. We had a really nice talk and they bought us beer – who could ask for anything more?

- Last Saturday was the annual Fourth of July party sponsored by the US Chamber of Commerce in Moldova. Like last year, it was at a park near the center of Chisinau and was full of either Americans or Moldovans who had some association with the US Embassy or any number of US based NGO's (like USAID). It was a great chance to get out and meet some new people – while the Peace Corps community here is great, it's small too (only 125 of us) – so my buddy and I spent the night talking with some Marines who guard the Embassy as well as some Moldovans who had spent some time in America (including one girl who studied for a year at the University of Wisconsin – La Crosse). At night, after the party, two of my friends and I went out with a Moldovan girl I met (more in a second).

- Last Sunday was our graduation ceremony at my school for the 11th graders, another great time. It started with a ceremony at 8:30 at night at which my director gave a speech and handed out diplomas, and we quickly moved to a huge dinner in our cafeteria with all the parents, teachers, and students who either finished school this year or, for whatever reason, had to leave at some point. I ended up leaving at 5:45 in the morning, laughing on my way home when I realized that, on June 5th when I went to Istanbul, I walked out my door at 5:30 AM. That was quite the revelation to have.

- Finally, on Saturday night after the Fourth of July get-together a Moldovan girl I had met brought my and two friends of mine to a really nice bar a little north of the center of Chisinau. We were walking through the door when a guard pointed to a buddy of mine, scrunched us his face a little, and said, “He's wearing shorts. I don't know . . . .” Having a Moldovan girl there helped a lot and she started to negotiate with him in Russian, at one point saying “and they're Americans.” The guard started to perk-up a little at that, then asked us what states we were from.

“I'm from Minnesota,” I said.

He responded, “Minnesota, really? OK, I love basketball and play it all the time. Tell me, please, who is the basketball player in the state of Minnesota?

There is only one answer, of course: “Kevin Garnett.”

His faced brightened, he smiled a little, stepped to the side while opening out his arm, and warningly welcomed us in.