Homes

There is a lot of construction going on these days in Moldova, both at my village and in the capital - the two places I am most often found. People are remodeling the interior of their homes - bathrooms, kitchens, bedrooms - and laying new bricks along sidewalks, pounding them into sand with rubber mallets. Old frameworks that stood dormant for most of the year are now centers of activity as workers, usually the owners, lay cinder blocks, mix cement, and cut large shingles to fit on the roof.

All this I take as a good sign for the Moldovan economy, but looks can be deceiving. In conversations with people at site and other PCVs, I realized that there is basically no market for houses. In America, when you want a house you typically go to a bank to get a loan, purchase an existing house with it, and spend the next 20-30 years paying off the mortgage. Banks here don't work that way, and so usually a person must build their own and fund the entire construction independently. This means that houses, and many large apartment or office buildings, are built slowly over several years as money becomes available; it also means that purchasing an already built structure is very difficult - who would sell a building without getting all the money up front, or agreeing to some kind of multi-year payment plan? Not this guy, and probably not many Moldovans.

The result? Capital is invested in buildings for long periods of time without getting any return. If it takes 5 years and $5,000 each year to build a store, the owner must wait 5 years and stake out $25,000 of his own money before he can even sell a single juice box. That's a hefty load to bare, and is probably one (of many) reason why it is so difficult to start a small business here.

How to fix this problem? I don't know. I'm certain that the central bank would need to create some sort of freer system for money to move between banks. Establishing a mortgage market is way beyond this PCV's abilities, but I'm certain any kind of lender would make a killing in this market, provided they could establish some kind of collatoral for their investment (admittedly not an easy thing to do here).

A Country or Not a Country?

To the northeast of Moldova lies a thin sliver of land knows as Transnistria, or Pridnestrovie if you prefer Russian. Its a unique place, claiming independence while Moldova still believes it to be part of itself. No other country has recognized this land as a sovereign nation, but that hasn't stopped it from printing its own currency or essentially acting as such.

While putzing around the PC office and surfing the net, another PCV and I came across several interesting sites, which I've linked to below. I'll let you decide for yourself about this matter. Be sure to at least check out ALL the links. They certainly paint an interesting picture...

Here's a link to Pridnestrovie.net, a sort of positive PR job for this semi-nation.

Now here is the organization, The International Council for Democratic Institutions and State Sovereignty (ICDISS), listed as a partial supporter of Pridnestrovie.net at the bottom of the webpage.

And now here are two articles (1 and 2) from the August 3, 2006 Economist about ICDISS.

Day of the Village

Last Monday was Copceac's День Селе (Village Day), and it was a lot of fun. I'd say it's sort of the equivalent of July 4th in the States - full of people playing games, eating, drinking, and relaxing outside. There was the annual chess tournament, in which I played one warm-up game before realizing that to participate in the tourney I had to play 5 games in one day. Since I wanted to see everything the day had to offer, I decided to skip out on my chance to be crowned champion - maybe next year...

Instead, I got to play volleyball, which I LOVE to do. My team came in 2nd overall. Of course, since I was playing the whole time I didn't have a chance to snap any pictures, but this is our team and others gathered at a local bar later that night to celebrate. [Funny story: I was a bit late to meet up with the group because I went home after a long day in the village center to take a shower. I got all soaped and shampooed up, only to have the water pump break down. Only a thin trickle of water would come out, so it took me about 15 minutes to rinse off. Sometimes a bucket and a bowl look better than a faucet...]

On a stage in the center of town, kids performed and at the beginning of the day, speeches were given about all the groups of the village - teachers, factory workers, farmers, etc. It was nice to see everyone being given their 15 minutes (or seconds) of fame.


Bottom line is I had a good day. It didn't involve any successful projects or real work on my part - it was just being there and being culturally involved, which is part of Peace Corps, anyway. I really liked walking through the crowd and seeing everyone I knew, just saying hello or chatting for a little while. It's not everyday I get to see a three donkeys race around a field...

Working

Not a lot to report this week because I've basically been in my room working on a couple projects - one personal and the other PC. The former is the GMAT exam, which I'll be taking shortly in Kiev. The PC library has several study guides for all manor of graduate school exams and I've been diligently going through several that recently relocated to my personal bookshelf. I feel pretty confident about the English section and only slightly less so about the math. Anyway, it's difficult to make a blog entry about studying for a graduate school exam all that interesting, so I'll stop - but not before leaving you with this pearl:

One pipe fills an empty tank in 5 hours. A second pipe fils the same tank in 3 hours. If both pipes are used together, how long will it take to fill 2/3 of the tank?

A. 8/15 hr
B. 3/4 hr
C. 5/4 hr
D. 15/8 hr
E. 8/3 hr
F. I could not do this problem because my parents failed to pay our gravity bill -Calvin

My remaining waking hours (and some of the non-waking ones, too) have been filled with ПУСК (pusk), the 2-day business seminar Bryan, Amy, and I will begin conducting in Russian in September or October. Our name is an acronym for Предпринимательское Учение о Стратегии и Комерции, which is literally translated as Entrepreneurialistic Learning about Strategy and Commerce. Catchy, eh? The real kicker is the word "pusk" means "start" in Russian, and we hope this will indeed help our attendees start their own businesses or at least help existing ones grow.

The three of us have written a small manual to address public speaking, business ethics, Econ 101, and others important topics related to the business world. The translation of our respective chapters was due 6 days ago, but yours truly was tardy because someone held a gun to my head and forced me to go to Morocco for vacation. So, I've been working overtime to catch up. Yesterday I finished the translation and now only need to type it up. So Bryan and Amy, if you're reading, it's coming soon.

Kill 'em with Kindness

Tonight I really put the nail in the coffin when I cooked dinner for my host-mother and her friend, showed them pictures of my travels for an hour, and then strummed the guitar for an hour after that. This outpouring of affection, coupled with a small gift from Morocco, will I hope will help endear me to my host-family. It was a fun night.

I Think I Can...

Most of these blog entries revolve around things that I see and do.  It's much more difficult to write on a thematic basis, i.e. to assemble and analyze all these tangibles into a blanket cultural observation (albeit one with plenty of exceptions, as most cultural observations are).  So here's my observation: many here are so embarrassed about their inability to do something new well, that they refuse to work at it to get better, meaning they never improve.

Now before I go any further (and thus put my foot even deeper into my mouth), I should state that this is a world-wide phenomenom, and is not specific only to Moldova or unheard of in America.  But, in this humble blogger's opinion, it is more prevalent here than I've seen in other places.

Some examples:
1. English TEACHERS and many students are embarrassed to speak in English with me, as if I expect their English to be as good as mine and look down upon them because it's not.  [Guess I should stop yelling, "Boy are you STUPID!" everytime someone doesn't have perfect subject-verb agreement...]
2. Whenever someone sees me type quickly and I tell them about my computer class and how they could learn to do the same in a relatively short time, many say "I could never do it."  Just the other day for the ump-teenth time I was telling some people about a class I had started and that they should come the next day and start learning.  Instead, they asked if I would still be here next summer to give the same class.  Why not just take it now?  Because we missed the first few classes and would be embarrassed in front of the others.  So what?!?  Who knows what will happen a year from now and they'll probably never be another chance to get virtually free instruction in your own village like I'm offering.

No one is good at anything the first time they try something.  If that prevented everyone from trying something new, then we'd still be in the Stone Age.

Most locals are no doubt better than I at maintaining a garden, fixing anything, and speaking Russian, just as I am generally better at speaking English and typing.  But that doesn't mean I don't believe that with enough time, instruction, and hard work I could learn how to do all of those things if not equally as well, nearly so.  My point is one must believe in oneself in order to achieve anything, and for some reason I see a lack of self-confidence in a lot of situations here.

What is the root cause of this?  I don't know.  Maybe I'm just overly confident and so I should adjust for that bias.  Probably a bit of the problem is I'm simply not cut out to be a great teacher - too impatient.  Maybe the communist "government will provide all" mentality is to blame.  Perhaps it's an educational system that, with a few exceptions (you're one of them, Luda), largely favors memorization over ingenuity.  If any of you out there have thoughts on this, I'd certainly welcome them here.

Since the first step in anything is believing that you can succeed, I sometimes wonder which would have a greater effect in Moldova: (1) all NGOs continuing various projects to improve democratic institutions, bring running water and gas to all parts of the country, update technological practices, give better health education and access to the population, etc.; or (2) give every household a translation of The Little Engine That Could.

Morocco

I've returned from my vacation to Morocco and while I sit on the bumpy bus ride back to my village, I have the perfect opportunity to recollect my thoughts - as well as the perfect distraction from the too loud American film with Russian dubbing and the too hot bus without AC and windows that the sweating passengers refuse to open.

I arrived around 7pm at night and after attempts to get a train from the airport to a station in Casablanca failed - the train never showed - I decided to spring for the extra cost of a taxi. A Mercedes Benz taxi. It was old, but it was still a Benz. And that's when I noticed I had a strange smile on my lips, and then I realized it was because I was comfortable. The roads were smooth and the shocks worked! [Again, as I sit on this bus from the 1970s on a road where potholes are the norm, I recall my entry into Morocco quite fondly. Even my last vacation to Mongolia was full of roads worse than Moldova's. New rule - I go where there's good roads from now on.]

So, I arrived and met Caitlin, my neighbor from UVA and PCV pal in Morocco. We headed to our hotel, where after the manager was unexplainably rude to Caitlin, I tried to smooth things over by giving him some currency from Moldova and Russia to add to his collection. I think he appreciated it. Oh yeah, and another thing about Morocco: all the beds were comfortable! Roads and beds - they know how to do those things. And tea. And spices. And orange juice - oh God yes, they know how to do OJ.

Then we were off to experience the relatively new "Rick's," based on the famous film "Casablanca." The interior was white stucco with ferns in every spot and even a piano player, though he wasn't there that evening. Upstairs there's a constantly running loop of the classic black and white film and a table for two in a bay window that over looks the ocean. It was a pretty swank gin joint and Caitlin and I enjoyed being wealthy tourists, if only for one meal.

The next morning we headed to the Hassan II Mosque, the third largest in the world. It was completed in 1993 to accommodate up to 25,000 worshippers inside and another 80,000 outside, and it comes complete with its own set of Astrodome-like retractable roofs. Over 1/3 of it rests on land reclaimed from the ocean because of the verse from the Koran, "The Throne of God was on water." Inside and outside, it's GORGEOUS and with titanium doors and teak wood, it's built to last through the corrosion dolled out by the ocean. The columns in the absolution rooms (where everyone washes before prayers) are even made of some sort of special stuff the Italians make out of cement, egg, and some other ingredients to absorb the moisture in the air. You can see that it actually works because the copper chandeliers there have yet to turn green while those outside have changed color.

Then we boarded a bus to head to Oneida, a small coastal city with a big lagoon. We hung out there for a day and a half, trying to soak in some rays and swim against the incredibly strong tide that occurred every time the tide went out.

As Caitlin's site was too far away to visit during my short trip, we boarded a bus to her friend Brian's place in Amizmi, about 45 minutes outside of Marrakech. [Can I just mention again what a pleasure it was to be on a pothole-less road in a new bus?] Brian has a great site and a great 3-story place with access to the roof. We bought groceries and BBQed burgers on the roof. On account of the huge and very loud wedding going on in the street below, we stayed up until about 3am, alternately watching through a window and trying to have melon eating contests.


Then is was a quick trip back to Marrakech for some haggling in the "souks," the huge bazaar. We wound up befriending one of the spice sellers, Hamed, and at his invitation shared some excellent mint tea with him in his shop. We probably spent a little to much time (and money) there and thus had to race back to the roof of our hostel with groceries to listen to the call to prayer from all the cities' mosques while we ate bread, cheese, and veges. Then it was back to the souks for one last haggle and to get some fresh squeezed orange juice, my favorite drink in the whole world. It was a wonderful way to bring my trip to a close.

I'd like to once again thank Caitlin for being an exceptional host and vacation planner - and for her gift of argan oil. I wish her all the best with the short time left in her service. It's always nice to have a good friend just out my door and to the left.

Getting Organized

To remove the anyone's temptation to break my window again, I've removed all my books and documents that were sitting in the small bay window area and placed them in my newly built bookshelf! I purchased a 3m board with the bark still on the sides, borrowed a hand saw, and cut it into three pieces. I then sanded each board and went out looking for some "beams."

Everything here - even high-rise apartment buildings - is built out of cinder blocks. Consequently, about every fifth house has a big pile of these gray fundamentals of construction just sitting in their yard, waiting to be used for some kind of home-remodeling effort. I figured that someone would be willing to give or sell 6 cinder blocks to their favorite American. So I just walked down the street and asked people and ultimately found success at the second house I tried.

Now that the work is done, I think I will never buy a traditional bookshelf again. It was pretty easy, looks good, and most importantly was cheap.

Breaking & Not Entering

While away this weekend for a PCV's wedding and then a double-PCV birthday party, I received a call from my host-brother.  It seems he was out of the house doing something during the day, and when he came home the neighbors told him that they heard a window break.  He investigated and found that my window had been broken.  He called me on my cell and said that judging by the hole's size and the jagged glass still left around the edges, it didn't seem that anyone had actually entered the room.

When I got home today, I was able to see for myself what had happened.  There was glass all over the room, but nothing appears to be missing (not that there was really anything of value in my room since I had my computer and cameras with me).  Looks like someone(s) stood in the alleyway between my house and our neighbors, where they could be concealed from view.  Then, judging by the cement rock I found in my room, they threw an object through the window.

I've replaced the glass - which is an interesting side-note...  Apparently, there is one place and one man in town who cuts glass.  There are no signs anywhere that say "Glass Cut Here!" or even just a simple picture of a window hanging outside a door with the words "Ivan's World of Glass" etched above it.  So, I ask my host-brother where to go and he tells me it's in a shop across the street from the school.  I go there, and the woman working in the general store tells me that the glass man isn't there today, which is irrelevent since they're out of glass and she has no idea when the next shipment is coming in.  I tell her I only need a small piece to replace my old window, give her the dimensions, and ask her to call this guy at home and see if he'll do it.  She does, and he agrees to come in tomorrow morning.  That actually turns out to be tomorrow afternoon, but I get my 12x27cm piece of glass for about a dollar and then proceed to look for a silicon sealant, which they don't sell at the same store where you buy glass.  A couple blocks away is a hardware store, but it's locked.  So I ask some guys hanging out by a bar if they know if the store will be open today.  They tell me the owners live next door and I should go ask them.  I walk in and introduce myself and they come out to unlock the store and sell me the tube I need.

Then it's back home to actually complete the repairs, after which I'm feeling so handy that I fix my door handle.  It would just spin and spin without actually catching.  I (of course) used duct tape to re-attach it to the cylinder extending from the door to the handle, and it now works like a charm.

The general conception is that some kids just broke my window for fun and weren't really looking to steal anything or do any real harm.  Nonetheless, I still feel... violated?  That seems too strong a word for being the victim of such a minor crime - basically an act of vandalism.  I'm also surprised that whoever did this actually did it during the day!  According to PC statistics, this is about the most unlikely crime possible - it didn't take place in a city, it wasn'tafter dar k, and I wasn't drunk.  Oh well, it's pretty unlikely that someone would win the lottery, but that happens too.

I may also try to get some bars on the window, though I really hate having to do that.  It's almost like "letting the terrorists win."

Anyway, I still had a great weekend at a wedding of two PCVs attended by about 60 Volunteers and staff and eating some great BBQ and hamburgers at a smaller birthday party for Adam and Craig.  And isn't this the best picture?  What a dress!