POTD 45: Host Family

Today’s my last day living with my host family. They are having family visit, and we decided it would be easier for me to move out. Host mom found a place for me and everything, and they’re helping me move out. It’s been nice living with them for the past 2 years. And despite some of the difficulties I faced living with them, I’ll miss seeing them every day.

Relationships

One of the things I will miss the most here is the relationships I have developed, no matter how big or small.

I love the 5th form girls who like to walk with me to and from school. I was walking home the other day and ran into some of them. These girls are so easy to love. We talked about English class, America, and all sorts of things. The whole time they listened to me and they were so interested in what I had to say. It was so difficult trying to explain to them why I’m going home this summer.

I appreciate the head maintenance man at our school, who never says a word to me and mistook me for a student the first month I was here, but he always greets me with tilt of his head.

Trips the local store are really pleasant because the women who work there recognize me and are very patient with me while I try to tell them what I want to buy.

I’m going to miss Veronica, who is a teacher at my school and she met me in Chisinau to take me to Criuleni for my first visit. She always greets me with a huge hello and a smile on her face, and then proceeds to tell me I look nice or checks to make sure I’m okay.

My host mom is always so kind to me. She’s patient with me when I don’t understand the Romanian. She compliments my cooking. And she often checks with me to make sure everything is okay.

It’s nice to have these good relationships; it’s going to be the people I miss the most when I leave.

Beware of the Kitchen

Well, the snow has returned and with a vengeance. It was snowing quite hard on my walk to school; my face was stinging as the snow was blasting into my face. My whole walk to school, the snow was blowing into me. Good news is that my walk home was much more pleasant since the snow was hitting my back.

After I got home from school and warmed up a bit by the heater, I head downstairs to prepare some lunch. And Roman was in the kitchen, drinking glasses of wine to stay warm. Of course, he insists I join him. If Roman is in the kitchen (or comes to the kitchen when I’m there), he wants to drink. There’s no legit excuse for me to not drink. Once I’m home, he thinks I’m done with the day. Therefore, getting drunk at 2 o’clock is perfectly acceptable. This used to bother me a lot, but I’ve accepted that this is life here.

Today’s conversation was fun. He kept telling me my boobs are a nice size. FYI, you do not need to be able to translate Russian to understand when someone is talking about your boobs. He told me that small boobs weren’t good, and big boobs were good.

I don’t know which is worse: that he finds his behavior appropriate or that it doesn’t bother me any more. I’m going to need some serious help with integration when I return to America.

Survival Instinct

Getting through some days here is a monumental task. Working within a foreign school system provides daily challenges. Constantly coming across the same problems over and over again without any change is overwhelming. Performing what were once trivial daily tasks (in America) now require my full concentration to complete. My mistakes are often seen as jokes, and many Moldovans accredit them to my misfortune of being American. Add in my poor Romanian and no Russian knowledge, you’ve got a very stressed out Maggie.

For example, yesterday I went downstairs to make myself a snack, and my host dad was in the kitchen. As I was trying to put some food together, Roman started talking to me about something. I eventually understood that the topic was about cleaning the kitchen. He was either telling me that I should vacuum or that I shouldn’t vacuum; I couldn’t tell. Every time I thought I understood and said “okay”, Roman would just shout “no okay”, slap his hand to his head, and yell at me for not understanding him. At least I think he was yelling about me not understanding him; I don’t know what he was saying. And all I wanted was a snack. Some days, right?

Anyways, today I was listening to a podcast about Stockholm Syndrome, and the hosts were talking about how those who are kidnapped develop this psychological disorder as a survival instinct to this stressful situation. And this got me thinking about what new thoughts or ideas have I started thinking as a result of my mentally strenuous experience.

Obviously, comparing my situation to someone who has been kidnapped is quite melodramatic. I know that I can’t even begin to put myself in the same category as those so unfortunate as to be kidnapped. I am not here against my will, and I have all my necessities and more. But sometimes hearing about extreme situations makes me think about my tiny problems.

So my survival instinct. For my first year here, I think the main thing to help me deal with my daily stresses was apathy. It took me a while to realize how much apathy I had developed since I had been here, seeing as it was building slowly. But I realized that not caring was helping me get through my difficulties.

My first months working in my school were incredibly difficult, and it was all I could do to not pull all my hair out. I joined PC to help those in need and inspire positive change by dedicating my time, knowledge, and skills; however, I could barely get my partners to listen to me or think of me as a creditable source. So I started by telling myself to not let it bother me. I would then tell myself that when other things didn’t go the way I hoped, and it eventually grew from “not bothering me” to me not caring.

I don’t know if apathy is the right or wrong way to deal with this, but I do know that apathy is not my way. I’m very passionate, and I love caring about things. I happy to say that it’s my passions that have gotten me to where I am today. So when I realized that I was using apathy as a coping mechanism, I was heart-broken. I couldn’t believe I had changed so drastically, and not in a direction I liked. So I made a decision that I had to rid myself of this apathy.

Nowadays, when things don’t go my way, I try not to let it bother me and think about how to improve things for next time. Or sometimes I think about whether or not this requires reflection. Maybe this is something I can’t change, so I need to focus on other tasks.

I also use the small and infrequent successes I have to get from one day to the next. These little successes are what help me get going sometimes, and they are what inspire me to keeping working. And most importantly, they remind me why I joined the PC, something I think all volunteers need to constantly remind themselves to stay strong.

My successes are usually really small, and they don’t come around too often. Sometimes, the most recent success that I use as motivation was from two months ago. It’s not much, but I believe using successes is a better survival mechanism than apathy.

“All evil needs to triumph is for good men to do nothing.”

–Edmund Burke

The Odd Couple

Whenever my host dad is in the mood for social drinking, he asks me to join me. So while drink Cognac together, we try to converse with each other. And as we are talking, we struggle with understanding each other seeing as he only speaks Russian (and very little Romanian) and I only speak English (and a little more Romanian than he can speak). So I’ve always thought that if you can understand Romanian, Russian, and English, you would find our conversation most ridiculous.

Tonight, as we were enjoying a bottle of Congac from our neighbor, Roman and I were arguing about Obama (who Roman thinks is low in evolution since he is black), pets (which I think are companions and he thinks are laborers), and American history (he thought he knew more since he was older and I though I knew more since I grew up in America).

During one of our arguments, my host mom walked in on us. As I suspected, we are hilarious to listen to. Since she understands Romanian and Russian, she understood most of our conversation; she was laughing so hard at us that she couldn't breathe.

Whenever we’re talking, I think I understand what is going, but who knows what is actually being said…except my host mom, who thinks it’s hilarious.

Just A Bumbling American

I feel like I need to apologize to Americans everywhere. I seem to be representing Americans with everything I do. Every time I do something silly, Moldovans seem to blame it on me being American. I don’t think they realize that I’m just kind of an awkward goofball; so, needless to say, I do many foolish things regardless of my nationality.

For example, the other day, I was trying to open a can of pineapples. But I couldn’t figure out how to use the can opener. It’s that kind that just a hook, which you push through the lid and saw it around. I had never used this kind before, so it was taking me a little time figuring it out. My host dad walked passed and noticed. He then took the can-opener from me and opened the can, not without saying “Uff, America” before helping me.

And then another day, I ran into my host mom when I got home from school. She asked me if I was returning from school, and I told her I was. And then she congratulated me with a bit of an overly excited “Bravo”. I suppose she thinks me going to school is a monumental task for me.

When I try to describe myself to Moldovans, the word I want most to use is “silly”. However, there is not a direct translation for that word. The closest variant means stupid/idiotic and has a negative connotation. So obviously I prefer not to use this word since it does not help me in convincing them that I just do silly things and that I’m not stupid.

I also don't think they understand why I laugh at myself when I do something silly. I probably look crazy to them sometimes. But I sure hope they realize I’m more than just a bumbling American. It’s difficult to know with the Moldovans that don’t work with me first hand. But regardless, I will continue to not understand how things work and laugh at myself as a fumble with simple things. And I’m sure I’ll continue to hear “America” mumbled on their breaths as they laugh at my foolishness.

Mission Winter

Well, preparation for the cold weather has really begun. My host mom has spent all weekend and the last couple days bringing the outside plants inside. And if I couldn’t tell from the empty gardens or the lack of potted flowers on the porch, I can’t help but notice every time I run into a potted-tree on my walk to the bathroom.

In addition to walking into a tree on my way to the bathroom now, it is a dreadfully cold walk. I have the luxury of an indoor bathroom, but my host family hasn’t turned on the heat yet. They did provide me with an electric heater I can plug into my room, which has been wonderful. But the rest of the upstairs is as cold as outside. Showers are quite a pain. If the bathroom starts to smell horrific, it will be as if I’m living like a real PC volunteer.

The school of course, has not turned the heat on yet either. So everyone stays in their coats all day during lessons. And the teachers have started to ask the students to bring in packaging tape and cotton, and I’m sure I’ll see them filling all the cracks in the windows over the next couple days.

My favorite thing is coming home to all the chickens loose in the yard. My understanding is they are eating all the remaining vegetables/plants/seeds in the garden before my host dad clears everything out. The best is when the kitten starts chasing them. Well, she tries to; the chickens don’t seem to notice her or care. But she’s so cute as she tries to play with them.

I must say it is kind of nice being here for two years because I get a chance to see things once more. I can finally anticipate some things based on my experience last year. I kind of like saying, “Oh yeah, I remember that last year.” Makes me feel worldly.

Kitty

About six weeks ago, I came home to find that my family had adopted a baby kitten. It was tiny and cute. I had only recently learned right before they brought the kitten home that we had lost one of the dogs, Charlie. I don’t know happened, but I assume he died. So it’s nice to have another pet around. Plus it’s a kitten!

When I first looked at the kitten, I realized it was very young; much younger than the ages of kittens we normally adopt kittens in the States. So I looked up kitten pictures online (always cute) and determined that the kitten must have been about 3 weeks old. It was so tiny, and it looked very weak as it moved.

Now that she is about 9 weeks old, I see a huge difference. She is incredibly playful and energetic. I’m trying to spend a lot of time with her so that I have one pet that is companion-like. I think it might be working because she likes to follow me around when I’m outside.

I asked my host mom what her names was and she told me Gov…or Gof (I can’t always tell the difference in the sound of “v” and “f’). Apparently, when she was talking with her grandson on Skype, she asked him what to name the cat and he picked this. I don’t really understand it, and neither does my host mom. But it was what her grandson wanted. But whatever her name is, she is certainly fun to play with and good company. And once the loneliness of winter gets here, I’m sure I’ll be happy to have a friendly kitty.

Host Mom Is Home!

I came home today from spending the weekend in Chișinău to find my host mom had returned from Spain. On April 3, she left for Spain to spend time with her son and daughter-in-law since they just had a baby. So for the past month and a half, it has been just Roman and me.

Although we had no problems and I got the chance to cook for myself (which I loved doing), the house seemed empty without her. She made the house a home, which is very stereotypical of women in Moldova. Also, she speaks Romanian, so when she is home, I have someone to talk to. In fact, this afternoon, she told me about her trip and asked me about my life during the last month and a half. It was so nice to catch up with her.

Tomorrow, Roman leaves for America to spend time with their other son and daughter-in-law. I’m not sure how long he will be gone, and I wonder what differences I will notice with his absence.

Girls Rule, Boys Drool

Today is another holiday; it’s International Women’s Day. I was surprised to learn about this international holiday because I don’t remember hearing about it back in the States. However, based on the way it is celebrated here, Women’s Day is a close equivalent to Mother’s Day. I think I like it here better because every woman is celebrated, not just mothers.

Many traditions here on Women’s Day are very similar to USA Mother’s Day. The men give the women in their lives flowers and small gifts. It is stressed that the men get something for any woman important in their life: mothers, wives, girlfriends, daughters, colleagues, etc. Women also show appreciation for the important women in their lives with small gifts or flowers as well.

I celebrated with my host family, but it wasn’t anything huge. My host dad cooked a meal for my host mom and me. He also bought some flowers for the kitchen. Like I said, it wasn’t huge, but it was nice to celebrate together. I know some other volunteers’ families had huge masăs with lots of guests. And many men volunteers had to bring lots of flowers to work to pass out to their female colleagues. My school has a masă, but they celebrated yesterday and I was in Chișinău for a PC training, so I missed it. But it seems that no matter how one’s celebrates Women’s Day, appreciation for women is shown. Yay for women!

Old New Year

I didn’t miss it!! I was able to celebrate with my host family. Parascovia made a huge masă, and Roman barbequed some sausages. They invited several friends over to celebrate. As the guests arrived, they threw coins and rice on the floor as a symbol of good luck and lots of money in the coming year. Basically, we ate and we ate and we ate. I would eat and be full, and Parascovia would bring more food. I would eat again and be stuffed, and Parascovia would bring more food. So basically, there was a lot of food.

I talked with the guests as best I could, and they asked me about America. By the end of the masă, everyone had determined that I needed to find a Moldovan man to marry and remain in Moldova to continue working. I’m pretty sure this was meant as a compliment.

After the meal, Parascovia gave each guest a colac with a lit candle along with a handmade napkin and wished the person a happy and wonderful year. Colac is a braided-bread in the shape of a circle. It symbolizes “hospitality” and it’s used in a lot celebrations.

After this holiday season and several family celebrations, I think I can sum up most holidays and celebrations as everyone eating until they burst.

The Family Clown

I think my host father thinks I’m some kind of clown. He is always laughing at me, and I can’t figure out why. I’m used to being laughed at in America, but I always know why; I said something without thinking or was clumsy or something like that. But I never really know with my host father. Last night, we were drinking together and he would point to my sweatshirt and laugh. And then today, when I was leaving to go for a walk, he saw me all bundled up to go outside and laughed again. Sometimes, just randomly, he will look at me and laugh. My only response is usually just shrugging my shoulders. Oh well, I guess I’m just meant to be someone who people from all cultures laugh at.


And I was looking through some of pictures from last night and found a group of pictures of Roman and me talking together. These pretty much describe our conversations perfectly.

Alone Upstairs

Camilla is leaving tomorrow, so tonight we celebrated with a goodbye masă. Parascovia invited several women who work with Camilla. Parascovia prepared lots of foods and Roman barbequed some chicken. Parascovia asked me if I knew how to make margaritas, and I told her I did. So she asked me to make it. But the only thing that was the same about these margaritas is that I used margarita mix. It was made with vodka, lemons, sugar, and mix. Not exactly the same creature that I’m used to, but it got the job done. Plus, I was happy to have something besides Cognac for a change. We ate, we celebrated, we ate, we talked, we ate, we played billiards, we ate. It was a really good send-off for Camilla.

I will miss her. She was much better at Romanian than I, and she knew some English. So she was able to help me out of a couple jams every once in a while. And it’s nice to have someone else in the house around my age. Plus it was much easier to tell Roman “no more drinking” when we were together. I guess I’ll have to stand up to him alone now.

Holiday Spirit

So the holiday season is starting to make me miss home. When Thanksgiving rolled around, no one celebrates it here, so there wasn’t a constant reminder that I’m not home for Thanksgiving. So Thanksgiving came and went without causing me too much homesickness. 

But Christmas is a different story. Christmas here is celebrated on Old Christmas, January 7. And so far, it’s not nearly as commercial as it is in USA. I only started seeing Christmas decorations for sell about two weeks ago, and I only started seeing decorations put up last weekend. The nice thing about this is that I wasn’t being reminded that it’s Christmas time since October. But now that the decorations are starting to be displayed, it does make me miss home. However, Moldova once again aims to make me happy. Wednesday was Roman’s 60th birthday, so we had a celebration. We had dinner at the only restaurant in my village with lots of my host family’s friends. We ate, we drank, we talk, we danced. It was a lot of fun. Plus, I got a picture of my host parents. It’s not the picture I was hoping for, but I think it captures them perfectly: Roman causing trouble and Parascovia scolding him. I love this picture of them.

My host family: sitting are my host mom, Parascovia, and my host dad, Roman.  My host brother standing; he lives in Spain and he was visiting for Roman's birthday.

Additionally, there was a school Christmas concert this week. Last weekend, some eighth grade girls asked me to sing with them in school concert. I said that I would, and we sang “Jingle Bell Rock” together on Thursday. The girls were very impressed that I had the words memorized by our second rehearsal, but I reminded them that I have been singing along with this song since I was a child. 

The school concert was various musical performances by the students. Many singers, some dancing, and a pair of students played instruments. Now, I have song in choirs and preformed many times, but I have never felt like a rock star until this performance. When we were introduced, and the MCs mentioned that I would be singing with the students, the school cheered very loudly. Many students pulled out their cameras to record the performance, and the entire audience was clapping the whole time. I don’t know if our performance deserved this praise, but it sure felt nice.

Me with my partner teacher, Svetlana, and the four girls who sang "Jingle Bell Rock" with me. Notice the silly American wearing her coat because she can't handle the Moldovan winter.

And then tonight, my host mom prepared a mini Christmas Eve celebration. She put together a dinner, and it was nice to sit together in honor of Christmas. The cool thing, too, was that the dinner kind of reminded me of traditional Christmas Eve dinner with my family. Christmas this year is not the same by any means, but different is not all bad. I miss my family, friends, and home, but I’m looking forward to learning about Christmas celebration here in Moldova.

Top 10 Ways To Deal With My Frustrations in Moldova

10. Snickers: Chocolate has the magical power to make you feel better. Plus, this is chocolate I recognize. Snickers here is the same as in The States. However, resorting to this method frequently can cause a stomachache. Not to mention that I don’t want the world to know the size of my frustrations based on the size of my hips. Therefore, I try not resort to this method as frequently.

9. Listen to Veggie Tales Christmas Album: Okay, I have to admit that this one is only on the list because I’m listening to it while I’m typing this. But it doesn’t change the fact that listening to this CD brought a smile to my face, and I instantly felt better. If you have heard this CD, you know what I’m talking about. So although this might be a seasonal solution, based on my experience, it is highly effective.

8. Dance party in my room: Sometimes, I just need to dance.

7. Talking with my students: I love hearing the students try to speak English. It always turns out to be some kind of Romanglish, but I can usually figure out what they mean. And it sure sounds funny. Plus, they always make me laugh.

6. Walks: A couple weeks ago, I started talking walks in the afternoon, and I have really come to enjoy them. I get to just relax and take in all that is Moldova. I try to walk a different way every day, so I get to see a part of Cruileni I haven’t seen before. It is really pleasant. Although sometimes I encounter other frustrations here, like the lovely smell of burning trash or being chased by stray dogs. But it’s only momentary.

5. Meeting new people: It helps remind me why I’m here. Plus, it can also be a little self-esteem boast. Moldovans often thank me for being here or compliment my initiative. Plus, who wouldn’t want to meet all sorts of people from a foreign land?

4. Spending time with my host family: Whether it’s talking to my host mom about my day at school or learning Russian with Roman over a shot (okay, several shots) of cognac, my host family never fails to put me in a better mood.

3. Coka Cola Light: I have to admit that I am dealing with my stress by drinking my weight in Coka Cola Light almost every day. But considering the fact that I am in the country that has the highest consumption of alcohol per capita, I think this little addiction I have developed for caffeine is an okay problem compared to what it could be.

2. Puppies: My host family’s dog had puppies several weeks ago. They are now big enough to come out and play. They are so little, and I love how they run up to me when I’m coming. The doghouse is right by the gate, so I pass them when I come home and when I’m leaving. I have learned that I have to leave an extra 5 minutes early to account for stopping to play with the puppies before I leave the house. Just look at them. How could this not melt all your problems away?

1. Laughter: This is my main coping mechanism. I just laugh. I don’t what’s going, so I laugh. My partner teacher doesn’t like any of my ideas, so I laugh. It’s raining and I don’t have an umbrella and a 15-minute walk home. How about I laugh? I think I may come off as mad, but sometimes I have to laugh to avoid crying. It is my crutch.

Familia Mea Gazdă

I love my host family. We seem to have a good balance with each other. Despite my poor Romanian, I think we communicate well with each other and we are a good fit together. I started to realize this recently. They were in America visiting their son (who married a Peace Corps volunteer, for those who don’t remember). They were there from October 11-30. And then I had training with Peace Corps in Chișinău from October 30 – November 5. So I really haven’t seen them for 4 weeks. It was a long 4 weeks.

I really care for them, and I enjoy living with them. So, I want to tell you a little about them, and I think today sums Parascovia and Roman up pretty well. Be ready…this is a long entry.

I’m getting over a cold right now. It’s nothing serious, just annoying. But I have a little cough. Anyways, this afternoon, I was coughing some, and Parascovia came up to check on me. She was saying how she heard me coughing and she was worried. And later, when I was going out to the bank (side note: I was typing this after I had been drinking with Roman, and I typed the Romanian translation for “bank” instead of the word “bank”. Maybe I’m not as bad at Romanian as I think I am) and Parascovia didn't think I had a big enough coat. So she gave me one of hers. She’s very motherly, and it’s kind of nice.

Then later tonight, I was eating with my family. Well, not really “eating with my family”, but rather eating “with my family”. Basically, they were in the kitchen while I was eating. First it was just Parascovia and I. She was preparing for tomorrow’s dinner, and she kept talking about her trip to America. I didn’t understand everything, but I was listening attentively and trying to understand all I could. I tried to contribute to the conversation as best I could, but I really didn’t say more than 2 or 3 sentences total. I love that she just kept talking to me.

Roman just makes me laugh. Right as I finished my dinner, he sat down with me and poured me a glass of wine (a real glass of wine, not a shot like usual). He insisted that I eat something while we drink (very Moldovan). So he kept handing me food while he was refilling my glass continuously.

At one point, I went to put food away in the fridge and Parascovia walked out of the room. So Roman took this as a chance to refill my glass before Parascovia or I noticed (I had already had 2 glasses with him at this point). Sneaky man.

Our Ukrainian and American “conversation”, which may seem a bit ADD…because it kind of is: Roman likes to smell dried fish (I don’t understand this yet; hopefully I’ll have an explanation soon). But he quickly understood my distain for it made evident by my face when he pulled out his dried fish to smell. After he got his euphoria from smelling the fish, he took the giant bowl of basil that Parascovia was preparing for dinner tomorrow night and smelled it as well. He continued to pick up the bowl of basil every 5 minutes throughout the rest of dinner, occasionally insisting that I smell it too.

Roman taught me the word ‘bug’ in Russian, which I promptly forgot as soon as he shook my hand and told me I was weak. He then noticed Parascovia cutting up carrots, which she had been doing the whole 20 minutes we had been sitting there. He pulled out a giant shank for her to use. She rolled her eyes at him and kept using her knife (Roman didn’t notice).

Next, Roman offered me tea or coffee. I told him tea, and he told me to make him some too. I couldn’t help but laugh. In Moldova, you can’t drink tea without eating something. So he told me to cut myself a piece of cake. I made my tea (and his) and cut my piece of cake. He was sweetening his tea and offered me the sugar. I declined, so he decided that I could use sugar on my cake instead. He took a spoonful of sugar and spread it on my cake. I reacted, and he quickly pointed to Parascovia and made a shhing face, implying that she must not know about this.

I find it quite humorous how he “sneaks” behind Parascovia’s back. Usually, it’s with the alcoholic beverages. And tonight, it was with the sugar on the cake as well. But I have a feeling that Parascovia knows exactly what is going on, and I think she finds his “sneakiness” just as humorous as I do.

I swear, you could make a sitcom out of our interactions. I don’t think I can do justice to the hilarity of our interactions with my writing. But honestly, after hanging out with my family, my abs hurt from laughing so much at our interactions.

Cognac Makes All Right

Well, I’m sick for the first time. Noting serious, just a head cold, but it’s quite annoying. Parascovia noticed Friday night I had a sniffly nose. But it wasn’t until yesterday morning that she became quite motherly. She made me drink tea, which I wanted already, before she pulled out all the contents from the refrigerator for me to eat. It took some time to explain that all I wanted was bread. And then during lunch today, she once again wanted me to eat my weight in food.

While I was finishing washing my dishes, she noticed that I was wearing socks instead of slippers. So she went to get her pile of slippers for me right away. And this morning she fussed at me because I wasn’t wearing them.

The best part was when Parascovia insisted that I take a shot of cognac yesterday morning. I told her I didn’t want it (it was 8:00 in morning, after all), but she was insistent, saying that it will clear my head. Then Roman joined in insisting, so I caved. And she offered cognac once more at lunch yesterday. She didn’t seem to understand that I simply didn’t want any. She just assumed that I had taken medicine, so I couldn’t have any. Anyways, I think I’ll be healthy enough to go to school tomorrow, so maybe the cognac did work.

Miss Independence

Doamna Parascovia and Roman took me to Chișinău today, and I was able to purchase the things that I needed, including internet. I wasn’t allowed the sign the contract, so Roman signed for me. Due to language barriers and I didn’t know I was going to purchase internet today, I didn’t quite get what internet plan I wanted. But it works fine. Now I will be distracted during my free time, so I won’t be able to solve world hunger and poverty. Perhaps another time. They also took me to Metro, which is Moldova’s version of Costco except much smaller. I was able to get everything I needed.

Today’s interactions made me miss my independence in America. I did not feel like a 25-year-old adult woman. I need be driven places. I need someone else to sign contracts for me. I need help reading what a product is (a lot of things are just in Russian, and I don’t know every Romanian word). I don’t have the flexibility to go purchase anything I need whenever I want. And while I appreciate how helpful Moldovans are with me, I miss the ability to work independently. Well, I’ll try to think of it as something that will make me a better person.

Lingually Challenged

This summer, I was learning Romanian because the school I will teach at has students who speak Romanian. However, I am living with a family that speaks Russian in their home because Roman only knows Russian. Doamna Parascovia speaks Romanian to me. I found all this out when I visited my host family in June.

So today, I found out a couple more challenges with learning Romanian. Camilla is from Italy, and apparently Doamna Parascovia can speak Italian. So when they are talking to each other, it’s in Italian. Finding this out made me feel a little better because I never understood anything they said to each other. Now I know why. And Roman is from Ukraine, but his family is Polish, so sometimes he uses Polish words. Although I haven’t been told such yet, I’m guessing that Roman will also uses some Ukrainian words since that is where he is from. So the following languages are spoken in my new home: Russian, Italian, Polish, Romanian, and possibly Ukrainian. It’s a good thing I’m teaching English because otherwise, I don’t know if I would recognize the language after two years of living here.

Honoring Loved Ones In Moldova

Tonight, I went to the Cojusna cemetery with my host mother and sister. It was at the top of one of the hills, and it looked very different than US cemeteries. For each grave, there is an iron cross instead of a gravestone. The simpler graves have just the person’s name, birth date, and death date. But some people have very elaborate graves, with marble memorials in addition to the iron cross. 

There are also small picnic tables throughout the cemetery. It seems that families come to honor their loved ones and use the tables to have meals in honor of their loved ones. And it doesn’t look like there is much of a groundkeeper because the grass doesn’t look like it has ever been cut.

It was my host mom’s mother’s birthday. We walked to the grave, and set all of the stuff we brought on the table beside her grave. They began to remove some of the shrubbery that had grown on her grave. Then, my host mom poured a glass of wine to pass around to each person to make a cheer in honor of their loved one.

My mother pulled out some candles and lit them, and we placed them in the grave. My family then passed around a pastry, two cookies that were basically giant flavored marshmallows, and 4 plain cookies. I didn’t really know what to do at this point because I thought them might be put on the grave or something. But they were for us to eat in honor of my mom’s mother. So I joined my family and had the giant marshmallows. And like my family, I took the rest home to be eaten later.