The Simple Life

So here I am settling into my life in Copceac. Most days I get up around 7 and am at the Mayor’s office for the 8am morning meeting with all the staff. As my Russian isn’t yet at the level it needs to be and I can’t say anything beyond “Cheers” in Gagauz, I don’t understand everything that is said at these meetings, but I can usually get the gist of what’s going on. And it’s encouraging that the office even has these meetings.

I still don’t know exactly what I’ll do here, but I am getting ideas. I’d like to give a training on MSExcel, something many of the staff would benefit from knowing. It would free up probably hundreds of hours of time each week. Right now all accounting and record keeping is done by hand on huge pieces of paper with calculators, abaci, and white out. […I don’t think I’ve ever said the word “abaci” before. Before I wrote it I was wondering if the correct plural form might be “abacuses,” but my computer dictionary says otherwise. I think they might both be acceptable.]

Another idea I’ve been working on this week is forming an English Club. This would be an opportunity for people here who already know some English and just need practice speaking it. God knows being immersed in Russian has made it much easier for me to learn, and it’s got to be difficult for someone to learn a foreign language without being in that tongue’s native land. We’ll probably meet once or twice a week to speak or watch an English movie or cook an American dish. There are a few excellent students and 3-4 English teachers whom I think would really benefit from this activity. Many others who can tell you their names and how old they are (and not much more) seem interested as well, but I don’t think they’d get much out of it. On one hand, we can’t have too many people or it will get unwieldy. On the other hand, I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings (or incur anyone’s wrath) by turning someone away. Pasmotrim (we’ll see)…

I’m on the twice a week shower schedule, which is fine for the winter. I am, however, looking forward to being able to use my sun-shower outside on a daily basis once the summer rolls around. Speaking of weather, it seems to be a bit of a damp climate – perfect for growing things and requiring everyone to constantly clean the mud off their pointy leather shoes. It’s very important here to have clean footwear. I’ve given up on that aspect of cultural integration and wear my dirty boots everyday, preferring unsightly footwear to cold wet feet.

I recently figured out how to access the internet through a dial-up connection at my home. The telephone (and internet) system is nationalized over here, so to get online from anywhere in the nation, you dial the same number, user name, and password (1900, Internet, and Total in case you wanted to know). The per minute charge gets tacked onto your monthly phone bill. It’s a pretty ingenious system.

My point in mentioning the internet is that I’ve never really felt before now the great and glorious and much lauded aspects of the grand Information Superhighway. In America, I had access to the internet pretty frequently, but if I didn’t it was no big deal. I could use my cell phone or land line to talk to friends and family or I could turn on the TV or grab a newspaper or magazine and know what was going on. But not here – and even after my Russian is second nature I still won’t have the same access to communication with people in America or access to reliable news reports. So, I have a new appreciation for the internet. It’s not just a technology that drains the minds of teenagers, but a pretty awesome tool and I feel pretty lucky to have it here in my small corner of the world …and for only 60 cents an hour.

Other (somewhat) interesting stuff:
I finally managed to get money from the bank. Over the past couple weeks I’ve made a few trips to the bank, one room with a safe on the second floor of a building that houses a food store, a photo development kiosk, and a home appliance kind of shop. Each time there’s been a long line and I never wanted to wait the 45 minutes it looked like it was going to take to get my cash, preferring to wait to visit the capital city where I can instantly get my money at an ATM. Well, eventually I happen to be near the bank when there are only 2 people waiting outside and figure, “You gotta do this sometime.” So I wait.

There’s a sign on the door that says people should wait outside and one person goes in at a time. One person comes out and the first guy goes in. Then another guy comes out and the lady waiting with me goes in. So now it’s just me in the hallway waiting by the bank’s heavy metal door. This “babushka” (grandmother) with the traditional leggings and burlap-looking house dress and handkerchief tied over her head starts walking down the hallway. This is not odd because the home appliance shop’s entrance is just beyond the bank’s. She sees me and I nod my head in acknowledgement, and then she opens the gray metal door and goes right in! What could I do? You can’t yell at a babushka! She's basically earned the right to cut me. So I adopt the patient, I’m a good Volunteer attitude and wait – but this time inside the door.

Once the guy, and the lady, and the babushka have finished their business it’s my turn. All seems to be going well until the teller asks for my passport, which is in some office in the capital awaiting processing by the Moldovan government for some special kind of work/volunteer/I’m-cool card. The good news is I have a stamped piece of paper with my picture on it from said office explaining why I don’t have my passport and that people should help me anyway. The bad news is that it’s in Romanian, which despite being the official language of this country neither the teller nor I nor anyone else in the room speaks or reads. So he calls some manager on the phone and starts asking him in Russian if he can give me any money. Fortunately, I can understand he’s saying “This guy doesn’t have his passport NUMBER.” I interrupt and say but I do have my passport number – it’s printed right there on the paper. The teller says “Oh, OK” and gives me my money.

Now, while I was unwilling to yell at a babushka for cutting me in line, don’t think I’ve gone soft. There’s a guy in my office who is always yelling and a few days ago he asks me where was I after lunch. I say I was at School #2. Then he starts yelling “Why didn’t you tell me you were going there?! I was there, too!” So this time I yell back, “I don’t need to tell you where I’m going! And why didn’t you tell me you were going there! Stop talking so loudly [in my excitement I forgot how to say “yell.”] I’m standing right here!” He seemed surprised and kind of walked away and I felt pretty awesome.

And I'm playing soccer tonight. Hopefully it will go well. I'm really excited about it.