SOS!! Just Kidding

I am currently a hostage in my own room. I somehow seem to have developed a bit of a cold and, judging by my mama gazda’s reaction, you would think I had the plague or tuberculosis at the very least. I felt it coming on for a couple of days, but was trying to keep it quiet. Well, unfortunately for me, I was unable to stifle a cough in front of mama mea yesterday evening and all hell broke loose! After lecturing me for not wearing a scarf to school the day before, she immediately started informing me of all of the things we were going to do to remedy my cold…starting with a cup of tea with raspberry preserves in it (actually quite tasty). I was then promptly sent to bed with tea in hand and the promise of a bucket of hot water to put my feet in later (not really sure what that is supposed to remedy). All of our host families are told that they are not to, under any circumstances, give us any sort of medicine so my host mama kept insisting that I break out my Peace Corps medical kit and take something immediately. This morning, my host mom snuck into my room and felt my forehead while I was sleeping (well, pretending to sleep). I guess she wanted to make sure that I didn’t die in my sleep. When I went into the kitchen later, she asked how I was feeling and I gave a pretty convincing reply of “I feel just fine”…well, my host brother (whose room shares a wall with mine) felt like he needed to put his 2 cents in and totally blew my cover. When I left the room, he told his mom that I had been coughing all night…needless to say, moments later, I had mama gazda standing in my room, hands on hips, asking about my cough and entire respiratory system. After breakfast, I was ordered back to my room with another cup of tea and was told that I had to take more medicine, put wool socks on, and not stir from my bed all day. When I told my host mom that I needed to meet with my partner to plan for tomorrow’s classes, she informed me that I was not going to be going to school for the rest of the week. I had to break it to her that that was not an option and that I would have to venture out of the house later this afternoon. She was not pleased to say the least. I have spent the morning in bed reading, grading essays, and making visual aids for tomorrow’s classes. Mama mea has poked her head into my room approximately every 30 minutes to check on her invalid and to offer endless cups of tea (I feel like I am going to float away!).

Autumn has officially arrived in Moldova. The trees across from my house have turned beautiful shades of yellow and orange and the weather is significantly colder and damper. While the temperatures haven’t been extreme (ranging from 30-60), the damp air and lack of efficient heating systems have left most volunteers lamenting the fact that long underwear is already a welcome comfort. I have a friend who has been teaching in her coat and gloves every day (she is in the northern part of the country, while I am in the center). My host family has been lighting our soba at nights for the past week or so. A soba is a stove that, in my house, is built between the walls of 2 rooms. Those walls are made of brick and are heated by the fire…I have been surprised at how effective it can be, especially since my bed is right up against that particular wall. My house has a soba between my room and my host brother’s room, one in the bathroom (I don’t think it will be lit but a couple of times a week on bath days), and one in my host dad’s room. Last weekend, we used the “salon” a big room that we very rarely use when we had some visitors. The salon does not have a soba, and I am not exaggerating when I say that I could see my breath the whole time we were eating in there.

Last weekend, we were visited by my host dad’s sister-in-law and her family. Her son is about a year older than Saşa (my host brother) and has been living and working in Italy for the past 5 years. He studied languages at university and speaks Romanian, Russian, English, German, and Italian…made me feel quite inadequate. He is back in Moldova for about 2 months and I suspect that my host mama was trying to play matchmaker. After our meal with them (which included champagne and wine of course), I went to a birthday party with my host mom and Saşa. The birthday girl is a 7th former whose mom is also a teacher at the school. My older host brother (the one that lives in London) is her godfather and our families have been good friends for years. We had the traditional Moldovan feast (including the delightful rooster jelly), accompanied by cognac, wine, and some Grappa that friends had sent them. Dinner was followed by dancing…oh, the dancing! We were hora-ing it up! I danced with the bday girl’s dad (a doctor in the village), a couple of old men I didn’t really know, and Saşa. I am happy to say that I was told that I learned the Moldovan dances quickly and danced like a Moldovan. My host mama kept telling everyone it was because I used to be a ballet dancer. What they didn’t know is that I had no idea what I was doing and was just kinda hopping around, hoping that I didn’t do anything too outrageous. It was a ton of fun. Moldovans are incredibly hospitable and definitely know how to throw a party. The language (and politics behind the language) came up once again while I was dancing with the doctor. He was telling me about how he had studied English at school, but hadn’t practiced speaking it in 30 years. He then went on to explain that language is a source of conflict for him…he told me “I had to grow up speaking Russian, I had to learn in Russian, now I think in Russian…but I am Moldovan”. He and his family, like mine, although they know Russian, choose to speak in Romanian, and he was explaining this to me in Romanian. This is a widely discussed (usually rather heatedly) topic in Moldova. Language is closely tied to politics, and with the current political situation here, it is a common point of discussion throughout the country.

Time is flying by here! In about a week and a half, we have our autumn break from school. Since all schools in Moldova take the same week off, Peace Corps is taking advantage of the time off to call us back to Chişinǎu for training. We will spend 4 of our days off in workshops and seminars. While I can’t say that sitting in meetings for the bulk of my break sounds that appealing, I am looking forward to seeing my fellow English Education volunteers and comparing stories etc. Peace Corps puts us up in a hotel for the duration of the training and we get a per diem for food and all that, so I am sure there will also be some socializing after the sessions are done every day. Once we get back from the break, we will only have about 6 weeks until Christmas. We work right up until Christmas Eve and then we have 2 weeks off before starting the next term.

Somehow my camera broke towards the end of training…it still takes pictures but the screen is messed up so I can’t tell what I am taking a picture of until I plug it into my computer. I have posted a couple of the pictures that actually turned out ok on facebook and will try to keep posting more as I take them…just wanted to apologize for the quality.

Oh, and on a funny sidenote…I introduced my host mom to peanut butter when I got some in a package from my dad and now she is hooked. She told me she was too embarrassed to eat any more of mine, so she made her son in England send her more. Cultural sharing at its best!