Nightpie's Travels

Part 3

2007-06-28T03:45:00.000+03:00

One-third of being a Peace Corps Volunteer - actually the one-third that lasts for the rest of my life - is sharing your overseas experience with Americans back home. To that end, since returning to America I spoke at my old high school, Kittatinny, gave an interview to my local newspaper, and scheduled a presentation at the Rotary Club in my hometown. I hope that through these activities, and informal conversations with people I meet each day, I can share a little of what I've learned in the Peace Corps.

A note about the article: unfortunately the internet version doesn't show the 6 pictures that were published, one of which was spread across the entire front page, but it still has a couple of typos. Overall, I really liked it.

I also had a blast at my old high school. Despite the fact that there were only a couple of school days left, and the seniors I spoke to certainly had other things on their minds (graduation, summer, FREEDOM!), I think some of them really enjoyed it. And giving out candy for asking or answering a question probably didn't hurt.

Going Away Photos

2007-05-23T19:24:00.000+03:00

Forgot to post these photos, taken at various good-byes within the last few days in my village.

Going away party with teachers at School #2.

Last picture taken in Copceac. All my co-workers on the steps of the mayor's office.

My amazing host-family: Katya, Mitya, and our dog, Linda.

Me and Luda.

Home

2007-05-20T16:18:00.000+03:00

It's the morning after my first night in my own bed at my parent's house in New Jersey. It was probably the most restful night of sleep I've had in a long time - didn't wake up once.

Even though I actually ended my Peace Corps service on May 9, and left Moldova at 4am that day, I didn't return home to NJ until the May 19. I flew from Chisinau, Moldova to Frankfurt, Germany to Atlanta, Georgia to Tulsa, Oklahoma over a total of 23 hours.

Along the way, I met several Moldova college students who were headed to America for summer jobs through a program called Work and Travel Since I speak Russian and English, I was able to help them fill in their travel documents and direct them toward their connecting flights in Atlanta. I hope they have good, and profitable, experiences in America. I know the fees to get into these kinds of programs are quite high, and many of these students will only earn minimum wage. I've never met anyone who finished such a program, so if anyone can comment here about a past experience, we'd all like to read about it.

Once in Tulsa, I had a few days to readjust my internal clock before hopping in a car to help Krista drive to Rochester, NY where she'll start an accelerated nursing program. In Rochester, I learned how my parents must have felt when they took me to college - so many things to buy and do in order to settle in!

Then I flew to NYC, met my cousin at the airport, and sped away to King of Shish-Kabob, a Dakake family hang-out. I had wanted to surprise my parents, so I never told them that I was in America. They thought I was still in Moldova and would be returning on May 21st. My whole family was in on the scheme, so I hid in the bathroom when my parents came in. I waited for them to sit down, and then came out saying, "There's no toilet paper in there - do you guys have any napkins?" My Mom's chin hit the floor she was so surprised.

So now I've got lots of unpacking to do, housing to find in Philadelphia before school starts at Wharton, a couple weddings to attend, houses to paint, and a million other things.

It's good to be back, but I do miss my friends in Moldova and look forward to going back to visit in a few years.

I haven't decided what to do with this blog. I'll probably leave it up for others to read and learn about Moldova and Uzbekistan and Peace Corps, but I doubt I'll be making further additions. If I start a new one about the "adventures" of a business school student, I'll post a link here.

ps - A few days ago, I received word my village won a grant (that I wrote) from the US Embassy in Moldova. We had already received funds for redoing the local TV station, but needed additional moneys for a new transmitter. Now Copceac will have its own independent local media source.

The End is Nigh

2007-05-02T09:16:00.000+03:00

In Peace Corps, approximately three months before the end of a volunteer's service, we attend a COS Conference. COS stands for Close of Service, but at the beginning of our three days in the capital, we learned that it also could be thought of as Continuation of Service. Why? Because one-third of a PCV's job is to share with the American people their experiences abroad. [The other thirds are to share America with our host country and to actually do some work.]

I'm looking forward to beginning, or continuing if you consider this blog an early attempt at that last third of my job, this important part of my service. I've got lots of photos and video that I hope to edit into a short film and/or powerpoint presentation. At this point, my honorarium is very reasonable – turkey sandwich on a toasted bagel. Let the speaking tour begin!

I suppose this was technically my fourth COS Conference - once in Uzbekistan, and twice before in Moldova as a presenter. Another (now departed) PCV and I created a financial planning presentation to help RPCVs (returned) make wise financial decisions as they re-enter the workforce and start earning a salary. This was my first time making the presentation solo, and I think it went very well. Actually, one of the other attendees just told me that she was inspired to take the government bonds that her grandparents have been giving her since forever ago and move them into something with a higher interest rate. Made my day.

Ps – Quote of the conference: “Peace Corps is like wearing a chicken suit in New York City and telling people in broken English how to do things better.”

Germans

2007-05-02T09:15:00.000+03:00

A German Rotary Club recently sent three of its members – Joachim, Reinhard, and Juergen – to Copceac in order to lay the groundwork for two projects they will be funding. I've been emailing with them over the last couple months to help set things up, and it was nice to finally meet them. The first project will replace many of the old, drafty wood-frame windows in one of the schools with modern, double-pane, plastic-frame ones. The other is a water project, which will connect a well with three water towers that are 2km away. This will greatly increase the water available to the village. At least until I leave for America, I’m to be their eyes and ears on the ground as these projects move forward.

During their visit, I was occasionally surprised by their surprise that someone from America (me) would be living and working in Moldova as a PCV. Over the course of their visit, we talked about a lot of things including the current administration in America. Other than Moldovans, this was the first time I've really discussed America's reputation with Europeans. Although this probably isn't news to the readers of this blog, it was a bit of a shock to me to see first-hand how far America's standing has fallen since the outpouring of sympathy that came following 9/11.

One Rotarian mentioned that he always liked America because following WWII, he remembered receiving packages from the States with good food and nice, warm clothes. Isn't it amazing how those gifts so many years ago helped shape an opinion that has lasted so long? I wonder how long the aid given by the American people to the world will continue to mold opinions in light of current events?

So what does this mean for me and the Peace Corps? I think it makes our work to attain world peace and friendship much more difficult, and perhaps more important, to say nothing of the threat of terrorism. Though there are only a few people in Copceac who think that I am a spy, some of them are good and intelligent people (who unfortunately have the completely wrong idea about my mission). Can you blame them? If I lived in a country that used to view America as its enemy, and at least partly blamed America for the fall of the USSR, and now saw an America that waged unpopular (if not simply unjustified) wars, what would I think if an American showed up in my village with some vague humanitarian goals?

28

2007-05-02T09:14:00.000+03:00

Shouldn't let my 28th birthday go by without notice here. So, I'm 28. Since last year's birthday was a bit of a let-down, I didn't organize any big party in my village. I did, however, wake up to a cake that my host-mother baked for me (pictured here).

The following weekend, however, my fellow-Gagauzian PCVs – who oddly also had April birthdays – held a three-way birthday Toga Olympiad. The toga part didn't really come off; virtually no one brought sheets and it was a little cold. There weren't may games to speak of either; they consisted of one half-field soccer game that some of us played against some foul-mouthed local kids. But, we really nailed the food portion of the weekend – club sandwiches, bean soup, gyros, muffins, and omelets. It was a great weekend.

Flowery Language

2007-04-18T15:38:00.000+03:00

From my own experience, mostly in college, when I didn't know what I was talking about I bs-ed. I think it's a human defense mechanism: when we don't want to be embarrassed by our lack of knowledge or understanding, we tend to puff ourselves up and try to convince ourselves and others around us that we know what we're doing [see current White House administration for demonstration of this theory]. In college, I tried to use big words and important sounding sentences. I fiddled with the margins, font size, and font type to make a 3-page paper reach the minimum 5-page length. Some of the papers I wrote were good, but some were garbage (and unfortunately for me, some of my professors knew this, too).

Fast forward six years, to my recent attempt to help a friend translate a document from Russian to English. The specifics are not important; suffice to say it was a description of an organization. I felt like I was reading one of my old, bad papers. There were grandiose and complex sentences that might initially impress, but actually said nothing. There were no concrete, measurable goals – only vague ideals of a pseudo-utopian society.

Of course, I'm not completely without responsibility for this literary "un-masterpiece." I did the translation and type it up. Though I tried to inject my translation with planer language, in the absence of the original author I couldn't do much toward creating anything with a clear strategy for how to bring about social change. As an excuse, I can only say the deadline was nigh and time was short. Sounds just like the excuse I used in college.

Fate

2007-04-18T15:37:00.000+03:00

My host-mother, Katya, introduced me to a new Russian word – больтушка (baltyushka), which basically means a very talkative person. I think it's a bit of a derogatory term, but she uses it to describe herself. I have to agree, the woman likes to talk, but I enjoy it, and have dubbed her "my good baltushka."

Recently, our conversations have turned to fate. A lot of the people here believe in checking horoscopes, getting palms read, the evil eye, karma, and just a general feeling that what goes around comes around. Katya has told me numerous stories about how some neighbor did something bad, and several years her family hasn't had any children; or how another person didn't heed the warning in the horoscope and died. It's almost that in her mind, for every (metaphysical) action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.

While this might be true for the next life – commit a murder now and you'll pay for it on Judgement Day – I don't agree with Katya's view for this earth. Bad things happen to good people, and vice versa. Priests get in car accidents, child molesters win the lottery. One's degree of piety or baseness won't protect or expose you to all the good and bad fortunes of chance.

To some degree, everything on the planet shares a cause-effect relationship; the wings of a butterfly in China may have contributed to the formation of Hurricane Katrina. But I would hardly blame that butterfly for the havoc wreaked in New Orleans, just as I would hardly blame a slight to a neighbor for the death of a relative 10 years later. I guess it just depends on how far down the "interconnectivity" road you want to go.

Having thus agreed to disagree, Katya and I moved on to foretelling the future. I told her that I don't believe in the ability of any mortal to divine it, specifically that palm reading was a crock. Nearly all attempts to do so are very general and mysterious – "You are entering a period of great difficulty now…" or "You will soon find a new business opportunity." No one ever says, "On Tuesday your car will get a flat tire on the rear passenger side." And why don't they? Because then their predictions wouldn't come true and they would be exposed as frauds. But give a general reading, and almost everyone can claim that to some degree the prediction was correct. I mean, who isn't in a period of difficulty?

Why the difference in Katya's point of view and my own? Undoubtedly, part of it is just that we're different people. I'm sure that in America I could easily find those with a similar outlook to Katya's. But I think that part of it – and I admit that this argument is a bit of a stretch – is that I am in more control of my future than my host-mother. As an American from an upper-middle class, white, loving family, who is about to enter a prestigious business school, my future seems fairly positive. Upon graduation, it's likely that I'll get a decent-paying job and will be able to raise a family of my own. Compare that with Katya's options: some of her children have had to work abroad to make ends meet; she has seen the collapse of her government; it would probably be very difficult for her to find another job should she lose or quit her current one. If I were in Katya's position, I too might be more inclined to see the cause of bad events as fate, instead of poor nutrition, lack of economic opportunity, or the results of an corrupt government. It's easier on the psyche to lay the blame at some mysterious and unstoppable supernatural force than on things that are caused by others around us or, to some degree, are of one's own making.

Part of the reason for our different views might also be a generational shift. I speculate on this because, through an extremely non-scientific process which involved asking one other young person, I can without a doubt state that two young people in the village of Copceac that that palm-reading and future-divining is "bullshit." Maybe we young'ns are just so full of piss and vinegar that we want to believe that we are invincible masters of our own destiny, and fate has no control over our lives.

Switching topics. Since my birthday was last week and someone has been clamoring in the comments section of this blog for me to post reflections on being 28-years old, here goes… I still feel relatively young, compared to the general population, but this is the first time I've ever felt "old." At 28, one can no longer claim to be in one's mid-20s. I'm definitely on the downhill slope to the big three-oh. And 3-0 is exactly how old I'll be by the time I finish business school and start working. I had always pictured myself a little ahead of that curve, finishing with graduate school and embarking on a career around 26 or 27. Nonetheless, I feel pretty good about where I am – college grad, fulfilling work experiences, really good looking – and where I'm going. Actually, though I couldn't nail down exactly what kind of career I want or where I want to live, I feel as though my life has more direction and I am more clear about my personal and professional goals than I have ever been. I think that's one benefit that comes from working at and living in a few different places since graduating college, and from spending countless hours writing graduate school applications, all of which ask "What are your career goals?"

As far as any wisdom I've accrued in my 28 years…

Change is hard, but necessary.
Travel to distant places and new cultures almost always benefits both sides.
It's the economy, stupid.
Friendship is best displayed during the breakfast scene in Wedding Crashers [minus the whole undercurrent of disingenuousness that goes with falsely representing oneself at a wedding to which you were not invited in order to bang an attractive woman]

Easter & The Tipping Point

2007-04-10T21:21:00.000+03:00

Usually the Orthodox and American (or Anglican? I’m not sure of the proper term) Easters fall one week apart. However, every few years – including this year – these Easters are on the same Sunday.

For the most part, people get together and eat. This in and of itself is cause for celebration for many who were fasting over the last few days, or not eating meat for the last 40 days. Next week, everyone will go to the cemetery and picnic at the graves of their relatives, as documented here last year.

For my part, I had a very relaxing and enjoyable Easter. I had invitations to lots of places. I'd like to think this is because of my natural charisma, but I'm sure a large part is due to the fact that as the lone American, I'm a bit of a celebrity. In the morning, I had a huge breakfast with my host-family. Then, I headed to my friend, Feodr's, for a little English practice and another feast. Next, I rolled up to Dada Borei's (Uncle Bob's) for a sit in the sun and some snacks. Then on my way to Ludmila’s, two men I didn’t really know invited me inside for dinner. Not being in any rush, I obliged. Finally, I took my leave and went to Ludmila's for more eating, this time coupled with a fun debate with one of her guests about which country was richer: America or Russia. I don't think either of us were convinced of the other’s position, but it was fun to try. Lastly, returning home around nine, my host mother tried to stuff even more food into me. I ate a few cucumber slices and went straight to bed. The weather was gorgeous the whole day.

On Monday, I also had the day off, and I basically lounged the whole time. I also made significant progress toward completing the Tipping Point by Malcolm Gladwell. His basic argument is that events – the drop in crime in NYC during the 1990s, the comeback of Hush Puppies as hip footware, or even Paul Revere's midnight ride to warn American colonists of a British attack – are really epidemics shaped by three things. Those three things are:

1. People, who come in three different subcategories
a. Connectors: Individuals who know a lot of other people
b. Mavens: Individuals who know a lot of information
c. Salesmen: Individuals who can persuade
2. Stickiness – how memorable is the message
3. Context – in what situation is the message delivered

I was reading the part about context on a bench outside my gate when I had an epiphany. Before I explain my insight, first a little more about Malcolm's argument. If we look at Paul Revere's midnight ride, one of the reasons he was able to gather the colonists to fight the following day against the British was simply because of the context in which his message was delivered. Simply by waking up someone in the middle of the night, pounding on a door, that person automatically attaches a greater import to the message than if it were delivered during normal working hours. [Revere’s mission was ultimately successful because his message was also "sticky" – The British are coming! – and Revere was a Connector – many of the people with whom he was speaking already knew him.]

Another example mentioned NYC's drop in crime in the 1990s. Of course there were many reasons, but one seemingly small cause that may have had the greatest effect was cleaning the graffiti off subway cars. The context of the city’s transit system was one of dilapidation. By the so-called "Broken Window" theory, when someone sees a broken window in a house, they automatically assume that no one cares about fixing it, and therefore no one will care about other infractions of the law. By fixing the window, or by cleaning the graffiti off the subway cars, officials greatly reduced the spread of the crime epidemic. Potential criminals were much less likely to commit a crime if they found themselves in a more orderly environment.

Next, NYC cops went after fare-beaters. It was a seemingly tiny crime, costing the city only $1.25. One could argue that at a time when murderers, rapists, and thieves were everywhere, it was a significant waste of a cop’s time to arrest and spend a day booking someone who simply jumped a turnstile. But what the cops soon learned was that for every 10 fare-beaters arrested, one of them had either an outstanding warrant or a concealed weapon. By going after the little guys, they were actually catching big criminals. And, as the public caught on that even small infractions like fare-beating would not be tolerated, the entire context of the subway system changed and crime dropped significantly.

The old view of causes for crime – which Malcolm and I certainly don’t dismiss – are that they're related to education, racism, infrastructure, etc. All these are big things that require huge amounts of resources to change and years to take effect. They are daunting in their size and complexity. Yet by doing something simple – cleaning off graffiti and arresting fare-beaters – NYC made its mass transit system, and later the entire city through application of similar methods, a lot safer.

So, what does this have to do with Moldova? A couple weeks ago I was in Tvarditsa, a village that was clean and ordered. Now I'm back in Copceac, where garbage is strewn helter-skelter on streets and fields. The seeming insignificant act of tossing an empty bottle on the ground has an effect on the way people who later see it perceive their environment. Does it make them take less pride in their village? Does it lead to a sense of hopelessness, that things can never get better or that one can never have a better life or gain new skills? Does it make them more likely to believe that they can get away with a crime?

I don't have any statistics to tell you if there are actually any connections, but I found it very interesting to read about the power of context in creating change, and found it comforting that big change need not come from big events.

Spring in Tvarditsa

2007-04-07T10:50:00.000+03:00

Our Gagauz Threesome, Bryan, Amy, and I, completed another Poosk small business seminar in the village of Tvarditsa last weekend. All previous seminars, besides the one done in Copceac, were held in cities. So, I was particularly excited when this opportunity came along because I think students in the villages tend to have fewer opportunities than those in the cities – as is probably true (to a degree) around the world.

The three of us, plus Charles, a volunteer from Chisinau, stayed with PCV Anastasia and her incredibly hospitable host-family. Perhaps I was so enamored with her family because Nastia’s host-mother was a phenomenal cook. I also absolutely loved Tvarditsa, and am convinced it is my favorite village in Moldova. The roads were straight and paved, the public areas were clean with no sign of litter, and you could tell that someone had actually laid out the village according to a plan.

I have to admit that my love for this village suffered a slight setback when on Saturday morning, which was to be the start of our seminar, only one girl showed up. I don’t know exactly why this happened, but I think it had something to do with there being some sort of academic Olympiad in the nearby city of Ceadir-Lunga. In any case, it was a bit of a downer.

Determined to make lemonade out of lemons, we agreed to pack all of the seminar into Sunday, when we were assured more students would show, and set about exploring Tvarditsa. I think we walked about 7-8 miles and saw it all. Charles and I introduced ultimate Frisbee at the local music school (which has a great soccer field out back). Instead of shirts vs. skins, we played hats vs. no-hats. Then we walked out to a natural spring where I drank freely from the cool water (no giardia yet!), and then to some small burrow-like caves where, apparently, monks spend the summer living mostly underground. We capped off the day with a tour of the local cognac factory – man, you could get drunk on just the fumes. Considering that I was there for a business seminar, it was nice to see a locally run, efficient business. All in all, not a bad day.

The seminar did have many more participants the next day. Out of the four student presentations, three involved the creation of some sort of transportation business. It seems that is a service sorely lacking – and I can certainly attest to being tired after walking around the entire previous day instead of hopping into a marshutka. We’ve been invited back for a festival next month, and I definitely want to go. There’s still a brinza (a local cheese) factory to tour, and a host-mother’s cooking to eat.

As folks in Copceac prepare for the growing season, they also prepare for the next winter. Every spring, grapevines must be trimmed to encourage new shoots to sprout. The old, dead wood – mostly twigs – are deposited in front of many villagers houses in huge piles. Here’s a woman who lives on my street, clips the vines into manageable sizes, then bundles them, and stows them away for use next winter in her pechka, essentially a wood stove in the wall of her house. For many, this is a much cheaper alternative to using gas for heating. It’s not uncommon to find monthly gas bills in excess of $75 during the winter, a vast sum when you consider a starting salary for a teacher is about $50 a month.

Also reading the Tipping Point now by Malcolm Gladwell – great book.

Also recently visited by former UZ-18 PCV Taya, on a one-night only vacation from her current post in Ukraine. Now isn't this a good argument in favor of Moldova dropping their visa requirement - she came because a visa wasn't required and brought her (few PCV) tourist dollars with her. Great to see you again, and meet Molly. Thanks for the visit.

Babel

2007-03-26T09:38:00.000+03:00

For those who don't know the story of the Tower of Babel, I'll give
you a quick rundown… Back in the day, all of mankind spoke one
language. Folks got together and decided they would build a huge
tower to heaven to skip life and get right to the good stuff. God
disapproved, and so He caused the people to speak in different
tongues. They no longer understood each other, couldn't work
together, and the tower was abandoned or collapsed or both. [If a
greater scholar than I wants to give a better history in the comments
section, go ahead.]

The first time I watched director Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu's
latest film, named after the ancient tower, I did so without
subtitles. I thought I remembered reading an article somewhere that
said he had deliberately chosen to go without translations of the
Arabic, Berber, Japanese, Spanish, and sign-language in order to
highlight the barriers that separate us. If the audience struggles
to understand, then they're more participants in the story than
simple observers – or so the theory goes. Turns out, I never read
such an article and somehow created it in my mind, mostly because I
didn't notice the "Turn Subtitles On" button in the program on my
computer I was using to watch the film. Oops. Believe me, the
second time through (with subtitles) is much better.

This film and the story from which it derives its name are in some
ways strikingly similar to my current situation. Yesterday, I went
to the university in Taraclia, a city about a 5-minute taxi ride from
my village center. I've lived in Copceac for a year-and-a-half, but
it was only a week ago that I learned that there was a university
nearby, and only yesterday, when I ventured there on my own, that I
discovered an English Department there AND that from 1992-94 some
woman from Kansas served as a Peace Corps Volunteer there! Am I
speaking some different language? How was I never told about this?
Granted, some of the blame lies with me because I never asked anyone,
"Hey, is there a university in Taraclia?" Then again, I also never
asked anyone, "Hey, is there an underground Olympic-sized swimming
pool with an unlimited supply of chips and salsa in Taraclia?" Maybe
I should.

More striking to me was a question I asked several of the students I
met in one English class. "How many of you speak Gagauz?" Not a
single hand went up. In Copceac, five minutes away, the primary
language is Gagauz. But in Taraclia, nothing.

This was, of course, only one class and not a true cross-section of
the Taraclia population, which I know has significant numbers who do
speak Gagauz. Nonetheless, it was surprising to see that in such a
small area, two villages should have as many languages. That would
be like everyone in my hometown of Fredon speaking Spanish, and five
minutes away in Newton everyone speaking Chinese. I guess I never
cease to be amazed by the number of languages spoken in such a tiny
area. Romania, Russian, Bulgarian, Gagauz, Ukrainian, and some study
English and/or German.

Beef Jerky

2007-03-26T09:25:00.000+03:00

Those who know my brother and me will tell you that we're beef jerky
snobs (especially my brother – sorry, Bud, but it's true). We only
go for the all natural stuff – none of that artificial Slim-Jim
crap. From various care packages, I still have about 5.5 packets
left. I spent the last half-packet in self-preservation. By this I
don't mean that I was wasting away with hunger, but rather I gave it
to avoid being eaten by another.

There are two large dogs at my new host family (which is great,
BTW). One is a beautiful black German Shepard, Linda. She's well-
mannered and can even open the front door if it isn't locked and come
inside. Linda sits at the foot of the dinner table and we give her
scraps. The other dog, quite frankly, scared the bejesus out of me.
She's got a striking resemblance to Kujo and showed up from God knows
where about 2 months ago and the family just adopted her.

Knowing that the way to a dogs heart is through its stomach, I've
been tossing scraps of jerky anytime I pass by. I think the plan has
worked, and now I only mildly fear for my life whenever I enter the
gate.

[PS – DON'T send more jerky. I've got plenty.]

Countdown

2007-03-24T08:25:00.000+02:00

As many already know, I will be leaving Moldova to return to America
in about two months. This brings on a mix of emotions, not
dissimilar to how I felt a couple months from entering the Peace
Corps. Then, I was reluctant to leave friends, family, and a
familiar way of life. Who wouldn't be? But at the same time, that
reluctance was outweighed by my sense of adventure and desire to make
a difference. I was going to live in a country – first Uzbekistan,
and then Moldova – that few foreigners and fewer Americans ever see.
I was going to meet and help new people, face and overcome
challenges, learn a new language, and see parts of the world that
would (I hoped) forever change my perspective.

Now, I find myself in a nearly identical situation, but reversed. In
Moldova, I have friends, I have important (albeit intermittent) work,
I even have pointy-toed Moldovan shoes. It will not be without some
sense of regret that I leave these behind. On the other hand, I'm
getting pretty excited to be back in America. I'll see old friends,
spend time with my family (including a niece due to arrive in July!),
and begin down a new career path at business school. It's a mixed
bag in wanting these next two months to fly by, and to creep along.

Either way, they will probably be busy months with 2-3 more Poosk
seminars, a close-of-service conference, a grand birthday bash,
visitors from Germany, more computer classes, moving to a new family,
packing, finishing up the TV station project, and all the little
details that go along with transitioning across seven time zones.
I'll just try to enjoy the ride.

Free 411

2007-03-19T23:10:00.000+02:00

This comes from the online journal of a current Wharton student. I thought this was a great idea for a business, and encourage you American readers to use it (and save yourself some money) next time you need to call information.

_____________________________________________
I was offered the opportunity to work with a local venture fund, Liberty Associated Partners, based on my work with Wharton's Small Business Development Center (SBDC).

I was at Liberty, a Philadelphia-based evergreen fund with a "few hundred million" in deployed capital, for less than a month. In those four short weeks, though, I had the good fortune to work closely with one of their portfolio companies, Jingle Networks, whose main (actually, currently only) business is 1-800-FREE-411, a free directory assistance service (http://www.free411.com).

As opposed to dialing 411 and paying $1.50-plus to Verizon (VZ) or whomever your landline or cell-phone carrier is, you call 1-800-373-3411 and get your number for free in exchange for listening to a short, usually 10-second, advertisement. It's a slick little Google (GOOG) model and a ridiculous value proposition for end users. As one of the VCs investing in Jingle often remarked, the business model was great because it shrank a large market.
________________________________________________

A Hero, Digging, Women, and Business

2007-03-16T10:08:00.000+02:00

First, a moment of silence for the passing of Captain America, my favorite comic book hero. Apparently, he was shot and killed a couple weeks ago (although how many times have comic book heros come back from beyond?) For those who don’t know, Captain America started out as a fairly scrawny lad, unfit for military service during WWII. But, he had heart, and so volunteered to test a special “super soldier serum.” The serum gave him super strength, and he went on to have many adventures attempting to do what most superheroes do, save the world.

The way Captain America got his start is, in my opinion, a bit silly – nothing more than glorified steroids. I stopped collecting comic books when I was about 13, and I can’t say I’m any kind of expert concerning Captain America or that I’ve kept up with his exploits as of late, but I always liked him for his unbending idealism and honesty. He was a real straight shooter, in contrast to other, perhaps more questionable heroes/vigilantes like the Punisher or Wolverine who tended to meat out justice with a heavy hand. Even Captain America’s “weapon,” an indestructible shield which he could throw like a boomerang, was essentially a defensive instrument that could be used offensively when necessary. In a world of gray Captain America was about as close to white as comic book heroes come, and I, for one, will miss him. When I get home, I’ll have to dig out some old comics and relive a bit of my childhood.

Anyway, this blog is supposed to be about my Peace Corps experience, so let’s get to that. Now that the weather is getting warmer and the earth is less frozen, a lot of digging is going on. My host-brother, Vitalik, dug a new toilet and covered up the old, full one. People are planting potatoes and onions in their gardens, and trimming grape vines to encourage new shoots. One of the schools here dug a new well, and I helped out a little one day. These projects are basically carried out with a shovel, bucket, and a rope – very different from the mechanized digging of wells in America. At the school, how many people showed up to help struck me. A few of the workers were being paid, but many were simply the fathers of school children who wanted to make things better for their own. I admire that.

March 8th marked Women’s Day. This is similar to the American Mother’s Day, except that it’s for all women. I had a great time at a concert held in one of the school auditoriums. The local dance troupe performed several times and lots of people sang. The singing is a neat experience because everyone in the audience seems to know all the words to these folk songs. I’d imagine it would be like in America if we all sang “This Land is Your Land” or “Home on the Range.” But I just don’t think we have that sort of culture. Oh yeah – I also got up to sing. There were performances in Russian, Gagauz, and Romanian, so I started out by saying that as March 8th is an international holiday, it was only fitting that there be a performance in English as well. I then proceeded to introduce the audience to the wonder that is The Stray Cats’ “Rock This Town.” I think everyone got a kick out of it, and the whole concert, including my performance, has been replayed several times on the local TV channel.

Bryan and Amy came to Copceac for the weekend to run another of our small business Poosk seminars. Since it was on my turf, I was responsible for all the logistics. I was really worried that all the kids who had signed up to attend wouldn’t show, but on our first day we actually had well more than I had anticipated – actually it made the seminar a bit difficult to conduct with so many people in the room. But, fortunately (???) we had the typical attrition rate so days 2 and 3 were a bit more manageable.

Participants this time came up with creating a movie theater, a pizzeria, and a gym. I thought all of them were good ideas, though each needed to be a little clearer or do a little more research regarding their projected budgets. Nonetheless, the fact that they’re simply making budgets BEFORE beginning a project puts them well ahead of their peers and even some NGO directors. [One such director from another part of Moldova refuses to make a budget for a remodeling project because he/she claims that the costs can only be known once the project is complete.]

This seminar was the first time that Bryan, Amy, and I gave real feedback to students on their presentations and awarded a prize to the group that did the best job. In the past, we simply asked questions as a way to expose weaknesses in the presentations because we didn’t want to offend or discourage participants. Ultimately, we decided that the educational value was worth it – if we don’t flat out tell these students things like (a) not to look at only one person during a presentation, (b) not to have your back to the audience when presenting, or (c) that their budgets are unrealistic, who will?

I really liked having guests at my house, and look forward to an upcoming shared birthday party with Bryan and Amy. Coincidentally, the only three PCVs living in Gagauzia, who happen to be the same three PCVs who run Poosk, also happen to have their birthdays on April 13, 19, and 23. Small world.

100 Questions

2007-03-01T10:27:00.000+02:00

A few days ago students voted for me to be the subject of a “game-show” called “100 Questions.” For this game, I sat on a swivel chair in the center of the gym and students sat in a circle surrounding me. I was given two minutes to talk about myself, and then the students could ask any questions they wanted. I had to answer honestly, and was given three passes (which I never used).

I believe I’m only the second person to participate in this activity, the first being the mayor, Oleg. So I feel a bit honored to be considered a VIP of sorts. I think a lot of locals were concerned that I would want to keep some things secret, but I actually loved the idea of this game – it’s exactly what Peace Corps is all about: sharing of oneself and of America with the host community.

I can’t remember all of the questions, but here are a few that I do:
1. What do you like and dislike about our Gagauz culture? I said I liked that there was a real sense of community, that people help their neighbors when there are large projects at home. I also said that I don’t really drink, so I didn’t like how alcohol is such a large part of the culture.

2. If you could live in Copceac with all the amenities that you have in America, would you stay here, or would you still want to go back to America? I said I would still want to return to America because that is where my family and friends are. Frankly, it doesn’t matter what kind of house I live in – ok, well, it matters a little. Much more important is my proximity to those I love.

3. If you were rich, what would be the first project you would do to improve Copceac? I said that I think a common mistake of many projects is that the donor simply gives something without first surveying the community needs, and without involving the community in the completion of the project. So, my first project would be to survey the residents of Copceac to see what was most important to them. That being said, I think two important project ideas would be (1) to complete the school that was started during Soviet times and is currently an empty frame and (2) to improve the computer literacy of the community – especially among students – in typing, Word, Excel, and the Internet.

4. Do you believe in love at first sight? I said that it hasn’t happened to me yet.

5. Where did you learn Russian? Uzbekistan and Moldova

6. What is the goal of your website (this blog)? The main goal is to keep my family and friends in America informed about my life in Moldova. It would be difficult, time-consuming, and expensive to write individual letters or make individual phone calls to every person that I want to stay in touch with. Through my blog, friends and family can see what’s going on with me whenever they want. At the same time, it is certainly open to anyone who can read English and wants to see what I am doing in Moldova. [I didn’t say the following, although I wish I had: I think in general my blog tends to make people nervous. In a culture in which outward appearance is very important, they don’t like the idea that I might present an unflattering picture or opinion to the world (or more realistically, to the 4 people who read my blog). I’ve tried to present things honestly, but I would never write something that I consider inflammatory, derogatory, or embarrassing.]

We ran out of time, and so I was only asked 43 questions instead of 100. At the conclusion, I was able to ask three questions to any members of the audience. I asked #1 to the same boy who asked me, #3 to the same girl who asked me, and finally I asked if another PCV were to be placed in Copceac in the future, how would the people here make that person feel welcome?

2007-02-27T19:02:00.000+02:00

Passports are a big deal in Moldova. Unlike in America, which comparatively has a relatively stable passport system, the documents that Moldovans carry have varied greatly over the years. During the Soviet times, all citizens of the USSR carried Soviet Union passports. When that system collapsed in 1991, those documents became (for the most part) invalid. As former republics declared their independence, they also had to create a new passport system (not to mention a billion other kinds of infrastructure, all of which had previously come from Moscow). Most reading this blog have waited in line to renew a driver's license or applied for a passport in America; it takes time and can be a frustrating process. Now magnify that by 5 million citizens of Moldova all applying for new documentation at the same time, add in a non-computerized system, and you can understand why trading in USSR passports for Moldovan ones can take so long to get.

Everyday, several people from my small village come to the mayor's office to apply for some kind of documentation to get an ID card or passport. Many also travel to Romania or Bulgaria to apply for dual citizenship. Why? Since these two nations recently gained entry to the EU, and their citizen may travel freely without visas to any other EU nation. This can be a huge boon for Moldovan citizens looking to find a better-paying jobs abroad. Not only do they need not apply for an expensive visa, but they don't have to return to Moldova every three months when the visa expires (or continue to work abroad illegally). Wait times to get these second passports sometimes exceed three years.

One last interesting thing: a Moldovan passport lists your "ethnicity." By this I don't mean Caucasian, Mongoloid, African, Latino, etc. Rather, one must include one's ancestry, such as Ukrainian, Romanian, Russian, etc. This is not done in America. In my passport, it nowhere states that my family has Italian, Syrian, and Russian roots. Why does Moldova do this and America does not? I think because it simply matters less in America, the (supposed) "melting pot" in which peoples of all nations come together as Americans. In Moldova, I think individuals still much more strongly identify with being Bulgarian, Gagauz, Russian, Ukrainian, or Romanian.

One woman at our last Poosk seminar explained that when her mother applied for her Moldovan passport, she had to choose between listing Romanian or Ukrainian heritage. The woman chose Romanian, and thus her last name ended wish "-ii." Had she chosen Ukrainian, her last name would have ended in "-ay," the feminine ending which exists in Russian/Ukrainian, but does not exist in Romanian. When her daughter came of age to get her own passport, she wanted to chose Ukrainian because her father was Ukrainian, but it would have created all kinds of difficulties should her mother ever need to provide permission for anything because their last names would be different - one ending in "-ii" and one ending in "-ay." So, now they both list Romanian heritage on their Moldovan passports.

My Trip North

2007-02-26T20:56:00.000+02:00

Friday I headed further north than I’ve ever been in Moldova before, to its second largest city, Balti (pronounced Belts). I went there to conduct another of my Poosk small business seminars. Of course, it started to snow – the first real snow we’ve had all season – on Thursday night, so I was a little concerned about the 4:30am bus leaving from my village on Friday morning. As luck would have it, my bus was running, and other than traveling a bit slower than usual I made my way to the midpoint of Chisinau without incident. [Ironically Amy, another PCV who lives in a nearby city, was unable to get a bus from her site until later that morning.]

My bus picked up Bryan, the third part of our Poosk triumvirate, on the way to Chisinau and after a brief stop at the PC office we were on our way into uncharted territory. We went to Balti in a van, which was definitely the worst car I’ve been in in Moldova – and that’s saying something. My feet were ice blocks by the time we arrived, the driver lost some sort of documents so we had to sit outside the city limits while some police officer questioned him and presumably received some kind of payment, and when we finally did arrive, the driver had to tear off the door handle from the outside in order to actually open the rear door so passengers could get out.

Although this trip’s beginning left much to be desired, as soon as we arrived in Balti and actually began the seminar, I knew it was going to be a good time. In large part, credit for this belongs to several people who live in Balti and made this weekend possible. First was an amazing young Moldovan woman, Larisa, an alumna of American Council’s FLEX Program. FLEX provides foreign high school students the opportunity to live with a American host-family and attend high school in America for one year. The goal is to help mold these students, the best and brightest (who already know English quite well before they go) that Moldova has to offer, into future leaders for Moldova. If Larisa is any kind of example of the results of this program, then FLEX seems to be working well.

Credit also belongs to Nic and Bridgett, two PCVs in Balti who (a) put us “Pooskers” in touch with Larisa, (b) helped us find locations for our three days of lessons, (c) showed us around their city, and (d) put us up for the weekend and prepared some excellent meals. I had the best pizza in Moldova, cooked lasagna, and had a real American diner breakfast (not in a diner, of course, but in Nic’s kitchen).

As for the actual seminar, I was really impressed by our 16 participants. Several of them were, themselves, FLEX alumni, and most of them had impressive English skills. Their intelligence, inquisitiveness, and language abilities made explaining some concepts easier. On the other hand, it also created some difficulties for us (in a good way) when they were not satisfied with our simplified explanations of complex topics, and we were forced to go more in-depth than before.

I also taught, for the first time, a new chapter I wrote about budgeting. Although still a work in progress, I think it was definitely the right decision to include this topic. At the conclusion of our seminar, student work groups must present their own business plans. Forcing them to include a projected budget of costs and receivables made their plans much more realistic than previous seminars’ groups’ ideas, and provided an excellent opportunity to teach some computer skills on Excel. The work groups’ ideas this time around were: a flower and tree business; a summer job placement agency for youth; a coffee lounge where students can study; and the “Space Café,” a student run concession stand that would sell higher quality food within the school cafeteria.

Our experience in Balti this weekend will hopefully lead to another Poosk seminar in April in Chisinau for FLEX alumni and their friends. This session would be completely in English and would be more in-depth than our typical sessions. In the mean time, there’s still plenty of room for a session here, in Copceac, and in a nearby village where another PCV lives.

The Prodigal Son Returns (for 2 weeks)

2007-02-15T10:48:00.000+02:00

For those loyal readers of this blog (all three of you), I apologize for my posting hiatus. I was on vacation in America, and when I’m on vacation, I’m on vacation. That being said, it was a bit of a working holiday, and if you’ll allow me, I’d like to tell you all about it…

I left on Jan 31, flying from Chisinau, Moldova to Budapest, and then after a 5-hour layover, to JFK. Everything went remarkably smoothly. The airline food was plentiful and tasty, the plane was nearly empty so I could stretch out across three seats, and I even made a new friend.

While I was sitting in the Budapest airport, someone asked me for the time, which started a conversation with a 30-something man, Keiran, who happens to be a former-PCV. He served in the second group of volunteers to go to Mongolia, back in 1992. I told him about my previous vacation there last summer to visit a current PCV friend of mine, and later emailed him some of the photos I had snapped. We spoke on the plane for a couple hours, and it was really interesting to hear from him how Mongolia had been when he was there, his life post-PC, and how he is still in touch with many of the people with whom he served. [This last tidbit bodes well for a potential Uzbek-18 reunion, perhaps in January, 2008.]

My folks met me at the airport, and we stopped on the way home to get some Chinese food – awesome. I nearly fell asleep halfway through the meal as the jet lag set in.

The next day I took in the changes in my house since last I was there: my Dad painted the family room (looks really good, and I’ve already signed up to help with the rest of the house when I come home), there’s a new chair in front of the TV, and Mom has several new paintings that adorn the walls. I also drove – yes, driving a car for the first time in two years – into town and there discovered that there’s a Hilton Hotel, an Applebee’s, and a 10-story apartment complex.

Every time I come home there’s always something new, some good some not. I do appreciate things like having a Staples and a Blockbuster in town, but it’s a shame to see so many shuttered shops along Spring Street in Newton. There are, however, some new success stories along the main street, like the Chocolaterie, started by a local couple, that imports fantastic stuff from Europe and recently opened a second store in New York.

I was home for a few days in Jersey, just getting my bearings, sleeping, and eating. My extended family came to visit on Superbowl Sunday for some bagna cauda, the most amazing meal you could ever eat and a Dakake family tradition. As per usual, it rocked and I gorged myself.

Then it was onto the working end of my vacation: train rides up to Boston to see Harvard Business School, then to NYC to check out Columbia, next to Philadelphia for a special Wharton Winter Welcome, and then on to Washington to celebrate my nephew’s 5th birthday. I really liked traveling by train. The seats were wide and comfortable, plenty of storage space overhead, it’s a smooth ride, there’s electricity sockets, and no need to go through all the hassle of “checking-in” as one must at an airport (to check baggage, get your ticket, and go through security). I bought my ticket online and then printed it out from a kiosk at the train station in about 20 seconds.

I’ll say this for the schools: they’re all amazing institutions with a diverse group of intelligent students. Some of the high points for each school, in my opinion, were that Columbia has the added bonus of being in NYC, Harvard is its own awesome compound, and Wharton students are really involved in all aspects of the school.

Although I was initially concerned about seeing three schools in as many days while I’m supposed to be on vacation, it was definitely a good choice. I was able to sit in on classes, tour the facilities, talk with students, and get a general sense of each school. Should I be admitted at more than one place, I will now be able to make a more informed decision. I am definitely leaning toward one place at the moment, but I’ll wait to hear from each school, particularly their financial aid departments, before making a final decision.

In DC I met up with my folks, David & Maria, Krista, and Gabriel. My nephew is more difficult to carry these days, which could be a sign of his increased size (and weight) or my decreased biceps – probably both. David & Maria’s house, like my parent’s and my hometown, had changed since I was last there. There’s a different TV sitting in a different corner, new couches and a new window are on the bottom floor, Gabriel’s room has a new layout, and there’s a new toaster. And there’s wireless internet, which was very nice. I think more change is coming once my second neice/nephew is born in July.

We also went on a tour of DC monuments, mostly just driving by places like the Washington, Jefferson, Lincoln, WWII, and Vietnam Monuments; Congress; the Smithsonian Museums; the Supreme Court; and most importantly, the Moldovan Embassy, pictured here.

Then it was back up to NJ for a couple days. I got to make a fire in our fireplace, which I love to do. I showed Krista around my hometown and tried to eat as many bagels with cream cheese as possible. There wasn’t really time to see anyone besides family, but fear not (or consider yourself fortunate that I was so short of time), I’ll be back soon. I flew out on the 13th.

Special thanks to my hosts during my tour – M&C in Beantown, Baldi & Gumby in NYC, Kevin in Philly, and Cito in DC.

Boys' Night Out

2007-01-21T10:29:00.000+02:00

As you will recall from my recent "Caroling" entry, we Christmas revelers raised about 1500 lei ($120) by going door-to-door and spreading Moldovan Christmas cheer - or just bothering people until they gave us money to go away.

In the following days we were debating what to do with this money, and ultimately settled on saving it for March 8th, Women's Day, so we could buy some nice presents for all the women in the office. That plan, however, was soon modified to include a little something for us men - namely, a night out at a sauna.

So, Friday night we bought all the necessary foodstuffs, piled into a van, and drove two villages over to some spa. We ate and drank (well, they drank), sang songs, played ping pong, and alternated between an extremely hot sauna and a freezing pool. Not a bad way to spend a Saturday night. My only two regrets were being unable to best Oleg in ping-pong and the fact that I went to sleep at 5am. Why do all the Moldovan social events have to go all night long? Can't we just a little earlier and end at a decent hour?

Come Visit!

2007-01-18T10:14:00.000+02:00

As of January 1, 2007, citizens of the United States, European Union,
Canada, Switzerland, and Japan can enter Moldova without a visa. I
hope this will bring an influx of visitors and investment to Moldova,
and any friends or family who wish to step into the village life for
a little vacation. This is a good step for Moldova in terms of
inching closer to EU membership and increasing its integration in the
global economy. Let's hope that other former-Soviet republics
(especially Russia) will follow suit.

My apologies for somewhere on this blog erroneously reporting that
this new law would take effect later in 2007. Somehow, I don't think
I screwed up anyone's travel plans...

Damn Good!

2007-01-17T22:32:00.000+02:00

Last night for dinner I fried up some potatoes, onions, and garlic,
then topped it with some brinza, the salty Moldovan cheese. I also
cracked open a new jar of manja - the Moldovan mixture of tomatoes,
eggplant, peppers, and onions - that Krista and I canned over the
summer. That was good.

But what was "damn good," was the jar of strawberry jam I popped open
for desert in order to anoint my ice cream with it. Strawberries are
hard to come by just about anywhere in the middle of January, but not
for me. [See Krista, all that hard work until the wee hours of the
morning washing fruit and vegetables, cutting them, cooking them for
hours, pouring steaming hot liquids into glass jars that had only
recently been sterilized in boiling water, and then grunting with the
strain of sealing the lids on top - it was all worth it! Oh wait,
you're in America and gave your share to me! Sucka!]

In other canning news, I finished my first of five 3-liter jars of
brinza. I'm a bit worried that I overdid it when i purchased 10kg,
or was it 20kg? Well, however much it was, I probably should have
purchased about half as much.

One really has to plan when to eat canned foods. I've got my little
section in the basement, and I'm trying to calculate how much I
should have of my remaining stockpile each week until the end of my
service. Eat too much too quickly, and they'll be nothing left for
later. Eat too slowly, and I'll have to fill my suitcase with jars
of fried peppers instead of presents for family and friends. Plus,
since I'm only one person, I have to time the opening of jars so that
I know I'll be around for a while - don't want the food to spoil.
The equation looks something like this:

Brad's hunger x cans / (time left in Moldova - vacation days) =
817.44

I haven't figured out what the 817.44 means yet. Best suggestion
gets a hunk of brinza...

Another Great Article

2007-01-10T00:01:00.000+02:00

Taking Control of Electric Bill, Hour by Hour
by David Cay Johnton
January 8, 2007 - NYTimes

Ten times last year, Judi Kinch, a geologist, got e-mail messages
telling her that the next afternoon any electricity used at her
Chicago apartment would be particularly expensive because hot, steamy
weather was increasing demand for power. Each time, she and her
husband would turn down the air-conditioners — sometimes shutting one
of them off — and let the dinner dishes sit in the washer until
prices fell back late at night.

Most people are not aware that electricity prices fluctuate widely
throughout the day, let alone exactly how much they pay at the moment
they flip a switch. But Ms. Kinch and her husband are among the 1,100
Chicago residents who belong to the Community Energy Cooperative, a
pilot project to encourage energy conservation, and this puts them
among the rare few who are able to save money by shifting their use
of power.

Just as cellphone customers delay personal calls until they become
free at night and on weekends, and just as millions of people fly at
less popular times because air fares are lower, people who know the
price of electricity at any given moment can cut back when prices are
high and use more when prices are low. Participants in the Community
Energy Cooperative program, for example, can check a Web site that
tells them, hour by hour, how much their electricity costs; they get
e-mail alerts when the price is set to rise above 20 cents a kilowatt-
hour.

If just a fraction of all Americans had this information and could
adjust their power use accordingly, the savings would be huge.
Consumers would save nearly $23 billion a year if they shifted just 7
percent of their usage during peak periods to less costly times,
research at Carnegie Mellon University indicates. That is the
equivalent of the entire nation getting a free month of power every
year.

Meters that can read prices every hour or less are widely used in
factories, but are found in only a tiny number of homes, where most
meters are read monthly. The handful of people who do use hourly
meters not only cut their own bills, but also help everyone else by
reducing the need for expensive generating stations that run just a
few days, or hours, each year. Over the long run, such savings could
mean less pollution, because the dirtiest plants could be used less
or not at all.

The vast majority of utility customers know only the average price of
the electricity they used in any given month. But wholesale prices
for electricity are set a day in advance, usually on an hour-by-hour
or quarter-hour basis. Power companies and utilities are keenly aware
of the pricing roller coaster, but they typically blend the numbers
into a single monthly bill for their customers.

For most Chicagoans, the average summer price last year was 8.25
cents a kilowatt-hour. Although Ms. Kinch and her husband at times
paid as much as 36.5 cents a kilowatt-hour — the peak price on the
humid afternoon of Aug. 2 — they paid less than their neighbors over
all. On 38 days, some of their power cost less than a penny a
kilowatt-hour.

Other consumers who know the hourly price of their electricity have
actually been able to get paid by utilities for power they did not
use. In New York City last July, for instance, when there was a
blackout in Queens, residents of one building on Central Park West
voluntarily cut their demand as much as 42 percent and sold the
capacity back into the electricity market so that it could be used
where it was more needed.

Certainly, such situations are a big exception. The fact that most
people have no idea how much their power costs has emerged as a
sticking point in the ongoing effort to restructure the nation's
electricity business, which the federal government is moving from a
system in which legal monopolies charge rates set by state
regulators, toward a competitive system where the market sets the price.

But how does efficient pricing emerge in a business where access to
information is so lopsided? A market, as defined by the courts, is a
place where willing buyers and sellers who both have reasonable
knowledge agree on a price; in the electricity markets, the advantage
lies distinctly with those who make and distribute power.

Under either the traditional system of utility regulation, with
prices set by government, or in the competitive business now in half
the states, companies that generate and distribute power have little
or no incentive to supply customers with hourly meters, which can cut
into their profits. Meters that encourage people to reduce demand at
peak hours will translate to less need for power plants —
particularly ones that are only called into service during streaks of
hot or cold weather. In states where rates are still regulated,
utilities earn a virtually guaranteed profit on their generating
stations. Even if a power plant runs only one hour a year, the
utility earns a healthy return on its cost. In a competitive market,
it is the spikes in demand that cause prices to soar for brief
periods. Flattening out the peaks would be disastrous for some power
plant owners, which could go bankrupt if the profit they get from
peak prices were to ebb significantly.

But as awareness of "smart meters" grows, so does demand for them,
not only from consumers and environmental groups but also from
government bodies responding to public anger over rising power
prices. In Illinois, for example, the legislature passed a law in
December requiring the program Ms. Kinch joined four years ago to be
expanded from 1,100 customers to 110,000. The law also required that
Commonwealth Edison, the Chicago utility, hire a third party to run
the program. It chose Comverge Inc., the largest provider of peak-
load energy management systems in North America.

The smart metering programs are not new, but their continued rarity
speaks in part to the success of power-generating companies in
protecting their profit models. Some utilities did install meters in
a small number of homes as early as three decades ago, pushed by the
environmental movement and a spike in energy prices.

Today, the same set of circumstances seems to be prompting a revival
of interest, and even the utility companies seem resigned to the
eventuality of such programs. Anne R. Pramaggiore, the senior vice
president for regulatory affairs at Commonwealth Edison of Chicago,
said that in the past, interest in hourly meter was transitory.

"We really haven't dealt with these issues for 30 years," she said.

But a sustained effort to install more meters is likely now because
of what Ms. Pramaggiore called a "fundamental change" in the energy
markets. Rising fuel costs and environmental concerns are — once
again — front and center. When consumers know the price of their
electricity in advance and can tailor their use, even minor changes
in behavior can lead to lower home utility bills and less reliance on
marginal power plants, said Kathleen Spees, a graduate student in
engineering and public policy at Carnegie Mellon.

"Small reductions in demand can produce very large savings," said Ms.
Spees, who analyzed prices charged within the PJM Interconnection
grid, which coordinates the movement of wholesale electricity for 51
million people from New Jersey to Illinois.

Consumers who cut back on power use at peak times can do more than
just avoid high prices. They can make money, as people in the
building on Central Park West learned last summer.

Peter Funk Jr., an energy partner at the law firm Duane Morris who
lives in the 48-unit co-op, persuaded his neighbors three years ago
to install a single meter to the Consolidated Edison system and then
to operate their own internal metering system. That made the building
big enough to qualify for hour-by-hour pricing. When the next day's
prices are scheduled to soar, the building superintendent and a few
residents get e-mail messages or phone calls. "We have an orderly
plan all worked out to notify people" so they can reduce their power
use during the designated times, Mr. Funk said. The residents save
more than just the money on power not used during peak periods, when
pricing has been as high as almost 50 cents a kilowatt-hour. During
the blackout in July, when parts of Queens were without electricity
for up to nine days, the building cut demand as much as 42 percent
and sold the unused capacity for about $3,000. That money helps the
building offer a valuable benefit: On most weekend mornings,
electricity for residents is free.

My Commentary:
It seems that this kind of measuring is not yet available everywhere,
but it is worth a little research or at least a call to one's power
company to see if such a program exists in your area... or better
yet, to start a local campaign to create such a program if it does
not already exist. Also, in a graph not displayed on this blog, the
biggest range of prices, and thus the biggest opportunity to save,
occurred in June, July, and August. Most other months were fairly
flat in their hour by hour rates.

"Caroling"

2007-01-07T23:45:00.000+02:00

Loyal readers of this blog may recall my "caroling" experience from last year. Well, I did it again this year, and I'm pleased to announce that this time I made it through the entire evening. We started to don our cross-dressing costumes and face paint at 7pm on Christmas Eve (Jan 6) and I was asleep in my bed by 6am on Christmas Day (Jan 7). In between, we drove to all the houses of workers in the mayor's office and other VIPs and basically sang and danced and made lots of noise until the inhabitants came out, no matter the hour.

When they came out - and they always did - they brought food and some form of alcohol. Last year, in my desire to be culturally sensitive during a festive holiday, I for the most part accepted any drink that was offered (read: forced) into

my hand. This year, I decided to put self-preservation ahead of cultural sensitivity and only sipped from the communal wine/vodka/cognac/champaign glass when it came my way. This "sipping" is very different than the typical "all in one shot" Moldovan style of drinking any kind of alcohol. To slightly alter one of the great Tom Hanks film lines, "There's no sipping in Moldova." It's all or nothing. But my plan worked, providing enough cultural adaptation so as to not offend the hosts while keeping the brain and liver functioning quite well.

It's also tradition for the hosts to put some money into the mouth of a wooden goat carried by one of the revelers. The goat's mouth opens and closes, and the host has to try to put the money into the mouth without getting his fingers caught. As a well-trusted outsider, I became the "American bank" and kept all the money that we collected from each household. Whenever kids were present, Santa gave 5 or 10 lei (40-90 cents) presents after making a small withdrawal from the bank - which was quite a leap of faith on the bank's part considering Santa had no identification and was wearing a fake beard. When work resumes on Tuesday, I'll bring all the money to the office and we'll decide what to do with it. We actually collected over $100. I don't know how this money has been used in past years, but I'm hoping that it will be spent on something to improve the efficiency of the office - like a new printer - instead of booze and cookies for future office birthday parties. We'll see...

A Bad Day for Pigs

2007-01-06T14:19:00.000+02:00

[Warning: this post is a little more gruesome than my typical
entries. If you're squeamish, you might want to skip reading this.]

Moldovan Christmas, based on the Orthodox calendar, is Jan 7th. On
January 5th, pigs throughout my village were slaughtered for the
holiday feast. When I say slaughtered, I mean the pigs are brought
out of their pens in the backyard, pinned to the ground by several
men, and then a knife is inserted into their jugular and wiggled
around a lot. The pigs squeal/scream (by no means a pleasant sound)
and the blood drains onto the ground. It probably takes about two
minutes for the pig to actually die. I saw my host-brother and
neighbor do this with our pig, and shortly thereafter I heard the
squeals of another pig further down the road. My tutor tells me that
her mother's family also did the same.

I watched the whole slaughtering process [inside joke with DW], which
I will now relay to you. The body is the lifted up on a makeshift
table or grill, and a blowtorch is used to singe off all the hairs.
It takes several rounds of torching, scraping off the skin with a
knife, and rubbing water and salt over the body until the skin is
removed. Then an incision is made along the spine and stomach of the
pig, and several perpendicular cuts between those two create a grid-
like pattern over the pigs body. Pulling at one section with one
hand and cutting the connective tissue with the other, the sections
of fat that surround the pig's body are removed.

This fat is canned
in salt and water, and is eaten throughout the year like you or I
might put cheese on some bread. [I've tried this "sava" and am not a
fan.]

Then the rest of the pig is cut up. Legs are chopped off, the spine
is cut out with an ax, after which (in a pretty amazing way, I
thought), the ribs just fall open revealing all the organs inside.
At least where I was, the heart and lungs were fed to the dogs, but
everything else was saved. The intestines took some doing because
all the digestive juices - which looked like chunky mustard - had to
be cleaned out. They did this by cutting it into 1-meter pieces and
pouring water through it. Then more water was used to turn the
intestine section inside-out and clean it again.

I've yet to see exactly how all this will be prepared, but I now know
the first steps.

Driving

2007-01-04T13:45:00.000+02:00

Driving in Moldova is a man's thing. I can probably count on one
hand the number of times I've seen a female mini-bus driver in
Chisinau, and I know only a few women in my entire village who even
know how to drive, let alone possess a license. This would seem to
place women in a less independent position than men. If a family
owns a car, the woman must always wait for a man to go anywhere. I
can't help but imagine this situation in my own family in America.
If my Mom needed my Dad to drive her everywhere she wanted to go, one
of two things would happen: (1) my Dad would never go to work because
he would driving Mom all over town, or (2) Mom would never leave the
house because Dad would need the car for his own tasks. From an
economic standpoint, this would seem a waste of time and labor, not
to mention chauvinistic.

Considering this situation, I was excited to learn of at least two 17-
year old women, Anna and Maria, in my village who are attending
classes to learn how to drive. [In Moldova, you can get your license
when you're 18.] However, when I learned the details of the process
from Anna, my excitement ceased. Getting a license here is pretty
damn expensive!

First, the girls had to pay 1200 lei ($90, though the price has since
gone up to 1350) in order to attend a 3-month long course. Each
class is 3-4 hours long and meets 2-3 times per week in a classroom.
Although payment for this class is mandatory, attendance is not.
Several of the students, who believe that they already know the rules
of the road skip the classes. In addition to this classwork, Anna
chose to get optional driving lessons at 75 lei a pop. She's taken
about 10 lessons. Then all students are required to pay about 300
lei for their actual driving exam. The exam is similar to the
driving test that nearly all American teenagers take when they get
their licenses, except a police officer administers the test from the
passenger seat and there's not parallel parking "question."

I've just told you that Anna's family will spend about 2300 lei for
her to get her license - plus there's the possibility that she may
need to give a 200 lei "gift" to the test administrator in order to
make sure she actually passes the test. So, if we assume 2500 lei,
that's about $190 just to get a license. Bear in mind that a
starting teacher makes about 600 lei per month.

In light of this cost, I can understand why a family might choose to
only get a license for one child, or for no children at all. Anna's
parents deserve some applause for breaking with tradition and helping
their daughter learn to drive. Hopefully she will use this privilege
to go places (figuratively, and literally) and leave on the curb her
way of thinking that men are inherently better drivers. [Someone
remind me that I said this the next time I go to make a joke about
women drivers...]

I don't remember exactly how much I paid to get my NJ license, but I
doubt it was so much - and it was nowhere near being over one-third a
starting teacher's salary. I also don't think I spent over 100 hours
in a classroom to learn how to drive.

What I do remember - and I'd welcome some comments here from those
who recall the process more clearly than I - is having a 3-week cycle
of my high school gym class that was devoted to driver education.
Assuming a 40-minute class, 5 days a week for 3 weeks, this means I
spent about 10 hours in a classroom. I, like Anna, also took
optional driving lessons, but I think I only took 2 of them and I
have no idea how much they were. The actual examination and license
was probably around $45.

Good tech advice

2007-01-04T12:35:00.000+02:00

This post doesn't have to do with my Peace Corps service, but I found
some great advice by the NYTimes' David Pogue, and I thought I should
share it. Actually, considering the amount of grief that comes to
PCVs after laptops crash, perhaps this does have something to do with
Peace Corps afterall...

Fewer Excuses for Not Doing a PC Backup
by David Pogue

If there's one New Year's resolution even more likely to fail than "I
vow to lose weight," it's "I vow to start backing up my computer."
After all, setting up and remembering to use a backup system is a
huge hassle. The odds are good that you don't have an up-to-date
backup at this very moment.

Fortunately, 2007 may turn out to be the Year of the Backup. Both
Microsoft and Apple have built automated backup software into the
latest versions of their operating systems, both to be introduced
this year. At the same time, an option that was once complex,
limited and expensive is suddenly becoming effortless, capacious and
even free: online backups, where files are shuttled off to the
Internet for safekeeping. Online backup means never having to buy or
manage backup disks. You can have access to your files from any
computer anywhere. And above all, your files are safe even if
disaster should befall your office — like fire, flood, burglary or
marauding children.

As it turns out, the Web is brimming with backup services. Most of
them, however, offer only 1 or 2 gigabytes' worth of free storage.
That may be plenty if all you keep on your PC is recipes and a few
letters to the editor. But if you have even a fledgling photo or
music collection, 2 gigs is peanuts. You can pay for more storage, of
course, but the prices have been outrageous; at Data Deposit Box, for
example, backing up 50 gigabytes of data will cost you $1,200 a
year. Nobody offers unlimited free storage, but lately, they've
gotten a lot closer. Two companies, Xdrive and MediaMax, offer as
much as 25 gigabytes of free backups; two others, Mozy and Carbonite,
offer unlimited storage for less than $55 a year.

(Note that this roundup doesn't include Web sites that are
exclusively dedicated to sharing photos or videos, like Flickr and
MediaFire. It also omits the services intended for sending huge files
to other people, like YouSendIt and SendThisFile; such sites delete
your files after a couple of weeks — not a great feature in a backup
system.)

XDRIVE This service, owned by AOL, offers 5 gigabytes of free
storage. It's polished, easy to use, and as fully fledged as they
come. Right on the Web site, you can back up entire lists of folders
at a time, a method that works on Macintosh, Windows or Unix. If you
use Windows, however, an even better backup system awaits. You can
download Xdrive Desktop, a full-blown, unattended backup program. It
quietly backs up your computer on a schedule that you specify,
without any additional thought or input from you. Better yet, a new
disk icon appears on your PC (labeled X), that represents your files
on the Web. You can open and use its contents as though it's an
ordinary, if slowish, hard drive. A Mac version of Xdrive Desktop is
in the works. As a bonus, you can share certain backed-up folders,
so that other people can have access to them from their Macs or PCs.
(This requires, however, that they sign up for their own free Xdrive
accounts.) You can view your backed-up photos as an online slideshow,
or organize and play your backed-up music files on the Web page.
Upgrading your storage to 50 gigabytes costs $100 a year, which isn't
such a good deal. But if your Documents folder fits in 5 gigabytes,
then congratulations; you've got yourself a free, effortless,
automatic backup system. Happy New Year.

CARBONITE This one's as pure a backup play as you'll find; there's no
folder sharing, photo viewing or music organizing. The Windows-only
backup software is completely automatic and stays entirely out of
your way, quietly backing up whenever you're not working. You get no
free storage — the service costs $50 a year — but you do get
something else few others offer: an unlimited amount of backup
storage. Carbonite is aimed at nontechnical audiences. It's sold in
computer and office-supply stores, for example, and it's the easiest
online backup software to use — in fact, to not use, since it's
completely automatic. The only change you'll see are small colored
dots on files and folders that have been backed up — and a Carbonite
disk icon in your My Computer window that "contains" all the backed-
up folders and files. At the moment, Carbonite doesn't back up
individual files that are larger than 2 gigabytes. It also doesn't
back up pieces of files, so if your 500-megabyte Outlook e-mail
database changes, the whole database must be backed up again. And, of
course, there's no Macintosh version. The company says that a new
version, due in April, will wipe out all three of these drawbacks.

MOZY In many regards, the recently introduced Mozy is a Carbonite
copycat. The price is $55 a year, storage is unlimited, an automated
background Windows program keeps your PC continuously backed up and a
Mac version is planned. Mozy offers 2 gigabytes of backup at no
charge. If you're willing to do the company's marketing for it, you
can nab another free gig for every four people you persuade to sign
up. Mozy is more flexible, too — and more technical. It can back up
only changed portions of files. You can specify times and dates for
backups (instead of offering only the Continuous option, like
Carbonite). You can view 30 days' worth of backups, too — a feature
that prevents you from deleting a file from your PC accidentally and
then finding its deletion mirrored in your latest backup. And Mozy
offers dozens of novice-hostile options like "Enable Bandwidth
Throttle" and "Don't back up if the CPU is over this % busy."

MEDIAMAX Talk about value. How does 25 gigabytes of free storage
strike you? The service began life with an emphasis on organizing
and sharing photos, video and music — which it still does well. But
its new Windows backup program, now in beta testing, adds automated
unattended backups of any kind of computer files, just like its
rivals. It's pretty bare-bones; for example, it offers no continuous
real-time backup, no choice of weekdays — only an option to back up
every day, every three days, or whatever. And you can back up only
folders, not individual files or file types. In times of disaster,
MediaMax will give you your files back, but won't put them in their
original folders. More important, the free account lets you download
or share only one gigabyte of data a month. That pretty much means
that to restore your hard drive after a crash, you'll have to upgrade
to a paid account. Still, when you're standing there, sobbing over
the smoking remains of your dead hard drive, you probably won't mind
paying $10 or $25 to get your stuff back.

SUMMING UP Now, there are some disadvantages to all of these
services. One of them is time: even with a high-speed Internet
connection, the first backup can take days to complete. Maintaining
your backup is much faster, of course, because only new or changed
files are uploaded to the Web. But if disaster ever strikes,
retrieving your files can also take days. (Mozy offers a solution
that gets you your files faster: a DVD of your files, shipped
overnight for an added fee. For example, to FedEx a 50-gigabyte
backup to you on DVDs, Mozy charges about $90.)

Then there's the security thing. All four companies insist that your
files are encrypted before they even leave your computer. But if you
still can't shake the image of backup-company employees rooting
through your files and laughing their heads off, then this may not be
the backup method for you. Corporate longevity may be a more
realistic worry. Since the Internet itself is very young, no Web-
based outfit has a particularly long track record. Any of these
services could be discontinued or sold at any time, which makes it
wise to make the occasional on-site backup, too.

In any case, the main thing is to have some kind of backup. After
all, there are only two kinds of people: Those who back up their
computers, and those who will.

Parties at School and At Home

2007-01-03T13:10:00.000+02:00

Admittedly, my December 25th was a muted affair here in Moldova. Considering everyone else in my village holds December 25th to be a normal day, my quiet Christmas shouldn't come a big surprise. To expect carolers and feasts and presents under the tree would be like expecting to see a group of Native Americans celebrate St. Patrick's Day.

However, the following week the Moldovan holidays arrived and the party scene really started to heat up. Let's start at the school. My host brother, Vitalik, and his best friend, Seroj, were tapped to alternate dressing up as Деть Морож (dyet moroj), sort of the Moldovan equivalent to Santa Claus, and my friend Anna and Maria were Снегорчка (snegorichka), translated as snow-girl, who is supposed to be the grand-daughter of Dyet Moroj. They all had to memorize this long poem that they would recite for children who came to school for a few hours worth of games, singing, and dancing. It was a little like Halloween, with most of the children wearing costumes - the girls as princesses and the boys as everything from Spider-man to a doctor.

December 28 and 29, the school hosted a kind of winter ball for the high school juniors and seniors. It was nice to see everyone all dressed up, though I felt sorry for the girls who sometimes wore their coats over their strapless dresses. The dance differed from what I remember of American proms and such in a couple ways. First, there were games. Volunteers were picked from the crowd to compete in funny competitions. These were interspersed with the prerequisite lengthy (sometimes seemingly endless and melodramatic) toasts and then dancing to one song. Then everyone would sit down again and start the next round of game/toast/dance. Second, all the teachers were there. It seemed to be just as gala an event for them as it was for the kids. They also dressed up and participated in the games. Third, the evening was over pretty early - I think by 8 or 9pm.

Lastly, I'd like to talk about New Year's in Copceac. This was my second time in the village, and despite not having anyone to kiss at midnight, I enjoyed this time around better than the first. Why, you ask? Well, first of all the weather was a lot warmer this year. That meant more people came to the center for meeting and greeting, dancing, and watching the fireworks. It also meant I didn't have to sleep with all my clothes still on. Second, I was invited to a party this year at the home of one of the village teachers, who prepared a real feast. There were all these salads and cakes and two roast chickens. Vitalik asked me to prepare some games to play - Moldovans really like party games. I MCed (1) charades, (2) a race between two girls to open a matchbox wrapped in multiple layers of paper while wearing oven mits, and (3) a kind of dating game where all the couples had to answer nine questions about their respective partners - like favorite color, where he/she wants to live, favorite meal, etc. - and then they had to see how well they actually knew one another. And we danced. Before the girls arrived, it was just me and three other dudes, but that didn't stop us from cutting up the rug. It was actually really nice to be in a place where it is acceptable - or rather completely normal - for men to dance. In America, particularly in high schools, I always felt like it was somehow uncool or feminine to dance.

I called it a night around 3am, and everyone asked me if I had somehow been offended and that was why I was leaving early. EARLY?! It was three in the morning! Of course, having lived here for a year-and-a-half, I was prepared for this. I know that Moldovan celebrations, particularly at weddings, usually go until sunrise. I just don't have the energy for it. I think my hosts know that as an American, I have different standards and likes and dislikes and I told them I was definitely not offended and had had a great time. [And I wanted to do laundry and clean up before my host-mother returned from her month-long vacation the following day...]

That about sums up. Hope you all had a happy and healthy New Year's. С Новым Годом!!!

Christmas in Copceac

2006-12-26T22:46:00.000+02:00

I didn’t feel particularly Christmas-y this year. It’s probably due to several factors. No one celebrates Christmas in Moldova until the Orthodox Christmas on January 7th. I wasn’t getting together with a group of PCVs as I did last year. Actually, of the 8 people who gathered last year, only 3 of us are left in Moldova. Oh yeah, and I went to work.

However, the night before I was able to indoctrinate Krista in the beauty of It’s a Wonderful Life, which she had never seen. It also seemed that events beyond my control were conspiring to put me in the mood. Our electricity was out for most of Christmas Day and into the 26th. This forced me, Krista, and my host-brother, Vitalik, to shy away from our computers and televisions and VCRs and DVDs and just entertain ourselves. I showed Vitalik and Krista how to play Texas Hold ‘Em Poker and he showed us some game that’s called some bad word in Russian that is essentially the English equivalent of “F-ed.” [Gambling and Cussing: How Jesus celebrates Christmas.] Then we cooked by candlelight – well, really it was more by headlamp, but that doesn’t sound a romantic and quaint – and ate a hearty meal. Krista and I had mashed potatoes, gravy, fried veges, and cornflake fried chicken. I know that last part sounds a little white trash, but it was damn good that I’ll definitely be making it again. We topped it off with some white Jell-o pudding, a box of mix courtesy of a care-package. [FYI, don't send any more Jell-o, which I don't really like. Pudding, however, is welcome.]

All in all, not a bad December 25th.

By the Numbers

2006-12-21T12:05:00.001+02:00

I have spotty dial-up service from my house, and occasionally keep up with events in America by reading a few articles from nytimes.com. Recently, I read one concerning the US Census’ release of its all kinds of findings – like the number of people injured each year by beds – yes, beds. I thought I’d disclose some numbers of my own:

5 – Countries visited this year (Moldova, Russia, Mongolia, Ukraine, Morocco)
3 – Beards grown and shaved off
10 – Computer classes taught
20 – Cost (in cents) for a great loaf of bread in my village
6 – Cost (in dollars) of a great tortellini dish at the most expensive hotel in Chisinau
4,000,000 – Population of Moldova
500,000-1,000,000 – (estimated) Moldovans working abroad
12 – Individuals (couples counting as 1) who have sent packages to me from America
2 – Cell phones stolen (from me) or broken (by me)
12 – Pounds lost
3.5 – Hours it takes for my PC-issued distiller to distill about 3 liters of potable water
1 – Bottles of shampoo purchased since I arrived in Moldova in Sept, 2005
172 – Postings on this blog

The State of Brad

2006-12-21T11:57:00.000+02:00

In 1997, my first year away at college, I started writing a sort of “update on my life” holiday letter for friends and family who I saw less as a consequence of living at school. These letters were a chance to take stock of the year passed, reconnect with those scattered across the globe, and plan for what lay ahead. Last year, because I was abroad, was the first time I since I started these letters nine years ago that I did not write anything. Being in a village overseas made that process a little too difficult to complete. Well, I’m still overseas and still in a village and the process of writing and mailing 50-100 letters is still too difficult from here. But being the web-savvy feller that I am, I figured I’d use this blog as a substitute. So, here we go…

Happy Holidays! I hope as you read this you’ve managed to pull your computer screen next to a warm fire or can see some snow outside your window. I, myself, have neither, but the radiator in my room is toasty and snow, while pretty, would force me to walk 30 minutes into town instead of riding my bike, so I’m fine without it.

As many of you know, I’m serving in the Peace Corps in Moldova, a small former-Soviet republic wedged between Romania and Ukraine. I work in a mayor’s office, but am a volunteer for the whole village. Some projects completed or underway include an English Club, teaching the mayor’s accountants to use Excel and running a computer class, revamping the local television station, and teaching a 3-day small business seminar about once a month. I live with a 17-year old boy, Vitalik, whose mother works most of the year in either Moscow or Germany.

Moldova is a small country with a lot of potential and a lot of problems. It’s location on the edge of Europe and its excellent soil, climate, and wine-making tradition could be huge boons for its economy. However, this poorest of the European nations is still plagued by corruption, a seeming love for red-tape, and a border dispute with a break-away region to its east. There’s a very strong sense of community, at least on the village level, and it’s been a great joy to become a part of that community.

I get along well with Oleg, my counterpart and the village mayor, who was actually elected to office 8-years ago when he was only 26. I have several local friends and most people here have at least heard of “the (strange) American” who lives in town. Though I still get plenty of stares, I now get a fair share of waves.

Living in this part of the world has afforded me the opportunity to travel a lot this year. I’ve taken the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Mongolia, stood in the world’s 3rd-largest mosque in Morocco, seen the site of the Orange Revolution in Kiev, and ridden a horse along the Mongolian steppe during the 800th anniversary of Genghis Khan. Not bad for a kid from north Jersey.

In past letters, I usually have a little bit about my family, but it’s difficult to figure out what to write here since I haven’t seen them in so long. My brother, David, occasionally emails photos of my 4-year old nephew, Gabriel. He’s really into hockey now, dressed up as Gandalf for Halloween, and looks a lot taller than I remember him. Maria, my sister-in-law was tenured at George Mason University and will be coming out with her first book - and I just found out I'm due to become an uncle a second time over in July! Mom and Dad went to Ireland for vacation with friends, and Mom has seen an upswing in her art business – though I think she needs to be a little more aggressive in her marketing (right, Mom?)

Prior to coming to Moldova, I served for 6 months in Uzbekistan until that post was shut down and all PCVs evacuated due to an unsafe environment. Depending on whether or not my time there counts towards my 2-year term of service, I will leave here sometime between June and November, 2007. I’ve started to make plans for what to do post-PC, but nothing has been set in stone. Applications to 5 MBA programs are done (thank God). I’ve received 1 acceptance (wahoo!) and am still waiting to hear from the other 4. In July, I learned that I passed the written Foreign Service exam and in February, I’ll be back in America for its second round interview. Should I get an offer from the State Department, I’m not sure about going after the MBA or taking up the life of a diplomat. Any advice is most welcome.

My girlfriend and fellow-PCV, Krista, has also made plans for returning to America, but in this, as in most things, she’s way ahead of me. She will leave Moldova soon in order to begin her nursing education, first at home in Tulsa and then at the University of Rochester in May. She’s been a big help to me during my own graduate school application process and Peace Corps service in general. I’ll miss her while she’s away, but look forward to obscene amounts of care packages (hint, hint).

That’s about it from here. I recommend perusing through this blog for greater details on the things mentioned above. Have a bagel for me, and all the best to everyone in the New Year!

Brad

Elections

2006-12-20T12:04:00.000+02:00

On Sunday, the semi-autonomous region in which I live, Gagauzia, held elections for their “bashkahn.” Besides having a cool title, I’m not exactly certain what a bashkahn does, but I imagine it’s akin to being the governor of a really small state within a really small country. Anyway, it was a pretty big deal here. Two weeks ago were the primaries with 5 candidates. The field was narrowed to two, both being mayors of the largest cities in Gagauzia.

In my village we had three polling stations – one at each of the two schools and another at the house of culture. All the streets are divided among those three places and each person goes to “their” polling station. They must show some form of ID, and then they’re given a ballot, enter one of three booths, stamp the ballot for the candidate they want, get the ballot stamped by one of the poll workers, and then deposit the ballot in a big box. Although I’m no official election observer – though we did have two such folks stop by during the day – the elections in my village seemed fair and orderly. They were also open enough that it was easy to see what was happening.

That, too, goes for the counting of the ballots I saw at the end of the night (polls were open from 7am to 9pm). All the ballots were put on the table, and sorted into three piles: candidate 1, candidate 2, and “hanging chads.” After being counted and recounted several times, the ballots were wrapped in their groups in thick brown paper, sealed with tape, and placed in boxes which were brought to the regional center. There, the ballots from across the region were tallied and the higher-ups decided what to do with the ones where, for example, voters stamped in between the spots for the candidates.

All in all, it was a good experience to watch. Other that the way in which votes were tallied – by hand instead of with machines – I’d say the elections here were pretty similar to those in America.

Hospitalized

2006-12-17T22:40:00.000+02:00

[Disclaimer: I didn’t want to violate anyone’s privacy by publishing personal health information without first obtaining consent from the relevant parties. The following has been reviewed by the patient and approved for use on my blog.]

A few weeks ago my tutor and friend, Ludmila, went to the hospital in the neighboring city/village for surgery. About six years ago, during a physical most teachers have each fall, it was discovered that she had a small ovarian or cervical tumor. She delayed in having the surgery. About two years ago it started causing her pain.

As of a few years ago, teachers here have health insurance. About 3-4 percent of Ludmila’s salary is withheld for this purpose and is supposed to get her free prescriptions, hospital stays, and treatments. The system in this case worked… somewhat. Ludmila did not pay a dime for her surgery or subsequent week-long stay in the hospital. However, the surgeon when he did his rounds, would not actually check on her recovery. He told her that the surgery was very difficult, taking 3 hours instead of the typical one, and that she should think about all the extra work he did to not lose her on the operating table. He wanted $150. After she gave it to him, he checked on her daily, cleaning the incision and applying new bandages.

While I think this blog’s readership may initially recoil at the idea of this extra charge – and I myself am not thrilled about it – it’s important to at least see where the other person is coming from. I don’t know what this surgeon’s salary is, but it probably well below commensurate with his education, and he too must support (probably) a family. If he cannot earn enough legally, he must resort to other means.

[If I can go off on a tangent for a second here… this is a problem throughout Moldova in many professions. Because salaries are so small, some teachers, police officers, politicians, and others must resort to a kind of extortion just to survive. So pervasive is it that not everyone view this as anything expressly illegal – just the cost of doing business. Of course, there are those who do not adhere to this system.]

A few days after Luda’s surgery, I went to the hospital to visit. As expected, it is a far cry from the cathedrals of health that hospitals have become in America. Paint was peeling off walls and stairwells and hallways were only dimly lit. However, it did seem clean and warm. In Ludmila’s large room, there were six beds for six patients, all of whom seemed happy to chat with each other. I was offered some home-made juice by one and shared some oranges that I brought for Ludmila with the rest.

The best part of my visit came about an hour into my stay when several other teachers from Ludmila’s school showed up to say hello. At that moment, to hear the emotion in their voices and the concern on their faces, it was clear that everyone there cares very deeply about Ludmila. They, like me, brought gifts – lots of canned food, which Luda stowed next to her bed in a cabinet already overflowing with similar presents.

Ludmila is home now and seems to be recovering well. The goose-egg-sized tumor was placed in a jar and brought by Ludmila’s husband to Cahul, a city about 1.5 hours away. There it is being tested to see if it is cancerous or not. The results should likely be known in a few days.

General Thoughts

2006-12-14T12:22:00.000+02:00

There is a single Russian word, привекал (pree-veek-ll), that means “have become accustomed to.” I think I am привекал to life here, and therefore haven't posted in some time because the things that used to seem novel and worthy of a blog post now seem commonplace. Nonetheless, my devoted readership demands material, so here we go with some general thoughts…

I thought I’d start with a description of some of the mundane: my morning routine. I usually get up around 6:45am. Lately, I’ve been sleeping on the floor in my sleeping bag because my bed, a fold-out futon, leaves something to be desired in the area of lumbar support. About a month ago I found some real, albeit expensive, cereal at one store in the capital and stocked up with five boxes. So, most mornings I eat a big bowl of Nestle Fruit & SOMETHING.

I ride my bike to work because I just don’t want to walk for 30 minutes. I pass by school children walking to work, who sometimes shout out a “Hello!” and then laugh at their own English, or at my Russian greeting to them. Shepherds lead sheep or cattle from somewhere out into the fields that surround the village. I have to slow down to push my way through the flock or go around it. An old women, бабушка (ba-bush-ka), hunched with old age and wearing the typical headscarf, stockings, and housedress uses a short broom to sweep the dirt yard in front of her gate. I wonder for the zillionth time whether the short brooms of the country are responsible for the bent stature of most senior citizens or if the poor posture makes the short brooms more comfortable to use.

There are ducks and geese that waddle all over the village, and they always hang out at one particularly muddy spot. I always try to navigate carefully through here since my bike has no mud flaps; they broke off long ago. I’ve found that if I just go slowly, the dirt from my bike wheels won’t be tossed into my face – and more importantly, onto my clothes – by centrifugal force.

I’m not really sure why, but at work the electricity goes off about once an hour, and then 2 minutes later it comes back on. I think it has something to do with the system being overloaded with electric heaters, radios, and computers.

December is nearly half complete, and we’re still experiencing an extension of fall instead of a true winter, not that I’m complaining. Today, however, is the first day that I’ve seen the sun in about two weeks – and it’s not because my host-brother locked me in the basement. There’s been an overcast, foggy weather to the last 14 days that I’m glad to see has finally been blown away. Apparently they’ve had some snow up north, but we have yet to see any of the white stuff down south.

I will mention one thing that was out of the ordinary: a group of PCVs had a swank Holiday Party a couple weeks ago, complete with fancy dress and a Secret Santa Swap. I walked away, literally, with these puppies – my first, and hopefully last, pair of pointy-toed shoes. I can’t wait to sport these around my village. This is the popular style in Moldova, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why.

Kiev II

2006-11-29T16:26:00.000+02:00

I left immediately after the avian flu conference to head to Kiev for a business school interview. I took an overnight (double-decker) bus there, which was actually a lot more comfortable than I thought it would be. Sunday I wandered around the city - ate a monstrous hamburger with an oreo shake at TGIFridays - and took it easy. Monday's interview went well - I guess we'll find out how well if I get an acceptance letter - and then I hopped on an overnight bus back to Chisinau.

After my interview I wanted to check out the Chernobyl Museum, as it was only a couple blocks away. Unfortunately the last Monday of each month is the museum's "Sanitary Day," so I couldn't go inside and disturb the cleaning process.

Last time I was in Kiev, it was with fellow PCV Bryan to take the GMATs. We had a good time and I missed my partner in crime this time around. Honestly, it was a bit lonely. So Bryan, perhaps you should reconsider your Christmas travel plans and save up your vacation days to accompany me on 24 hours of bus rides and border checks.

When I got home, I slept for 12 hours - must have been more tired than I thought. I don't remember the last time I did that.

Gobble, Gobble

2006-11-26T14:33:00.000+02:00

Thanksgiving has come and gone, and I'm certain I've regained a few of the pounds that I've shed over the last 14 months in Moldova. A crack team of PCVs prepared a real feast for almost 300 PCVs, staff, embassy workers, and invited guests. There were turkeys and stuffing and cranberry sauce and gravy and pecan and pumpkin pies. "Full" doesn't begin to describe the way my stomach felt. And, there were even left-overs the following day for yet another feast at lunch.

Following the dinner, I hosted a PCV Talent Show. Highlights for me included a rockin' 80s lip sync medley, a line dance to both American and Moldovan music, and a performance of a hit Moldovan song - usually performed by a 3-year old girl (for real) - by my 30-year old male friend while dressed in drag and smoking. And word on the street is that my own performance of "I'll Be Home for Christmas" was either beautifully poignant or grounds for dismemberment because I made everyone cry.

Thanksgiving wasn't all fun and games. All PCVs attened 3 days of a conference that addressed topics like our safety and security, secondary projects, appropriate dress for PCVs, and avian flu. Interestingly, despite being surrounded by avian flu findings in both Ukraine and Romania, Moldova has yet to find a single reported case. As most probably already know, the real danger of avian flu would be if the virus (the H5N1 strain) mutated to be able to infect humans from other humans, as the typical flu virus can do through the air. To prevent this, any infected birds or pigs - which can carry both the avian and human flu viruses at the same time, and thus act as incubators for a potential "super" virus strain - are slaughtered.

And just so I don't end this posting on the word "slaughtered," here's a nice picture.

Volunteers in High Society

2006-11-22T08:51:00.000+02:00

Last weekend I broke with the usual PCV practices – cabbage and potatoes, heavy boots, and speaking in a foreign language – to take part in the pomp and circumstance of the Marine Ball. Apparently, every November the Marines celebrate their birthday all over the world. Sometimes, when the Marines are stationed in the field, the ceremonies are very simply, nothing more than a few cupcakes. In Moldova, there was a live band, DJ, steak dinners, men in tuxes, ladies in gowns, and six Marines in their finest.

Four PC staff members and eight PCVs attended, and I think we all had a blast. I finally remembered to get my picture with Ambassador Michael Kirby and his wife, Sarah. Krista is next to me in a gown sent over by her father – well worth the shipping costs, if you ask me…

Cold & Computers

2006-11-12T23:09:00.000+02:00

The weather has definitely turned a corner. The longjohns are out of the closet and the sleeping bag has become another blanket. But with my feet resting on the electric heater, I’m comfortable and happy in my home. My host-mother and host-brother returned from three months working abroad in Germany. It’s unclear how long she’ll be here – the brother is living in Chisinau – but she seems genuinely happy to be back and more accustomed to my presence than last time she was here. We had a good chat the other night about her son’s walnut business and the general state of things in Moldova. [Incidentally, how much do unshelled walnuts go for in America these days? I bought a 17-kilogram bag for the Ambassador for 200 lei, or about 12 lei per kilo, or about 40 cents per pound.]

Since my 6-month contract was up this month, I was worried that host-mom would ask me to move out. But she agreed to let me continue living here until I complete my service, which was of great relief.

The cooler weather has also tempered Copceac’s level of activity. Copceac, and probably most of Moldova, might best be compared to a resort town. Both have their busy seasons (the summer), and their down times (the winter). Now that the harvests are complete, and there’s nothing left to can, there’s less to do once the sun goes down. This morning, I actually helped my family complete probably the last of the farm chores – tilling the earth before the winter freezes it. I think I mentioned this a year ago, there are no gas-powered tillers like you see in America, like push tractors with vertical food-processor-like blades that chop up the ground. Here, we do it with shovels, scooping up and turning over.

I’m keeping busy with yet another computer class – well, one and a half. My “half” class consists of helping another teacher teach teachers (can I say that?) how to use the school computers. It’s definitely his gig, and though we may have different teaching styles, I’m happy to help with anything that helps people work more efficiently.

Because of some problems at the local internet café (which still has no internet), I have only 4 people in my personal class. Although I’d like to have more spaces available for the other people who are on my list, I have to admit I’m really enjoying the smaller class. We’ve been able to move much more quickly than any of my previous classes – perhaps a sign I’m getting better at this teaching thing?

Ambassadors & Politics

2006-11-12T23:06:00.000+02:00

A few nights ago I had the pleasure of spending three hours with the US Ambassador to Moldova, Michael Kirby. This was the second time we met, though this time we were able to chat for longer at a bar in Ceadir-Lunga with our PC Director, Jeff, and PCVs Bryan, Amy, Josh, and myself.

Turns out he’s a political junky like me, so we spent most of the first half of our 3 hours together talking about the election returns from America. He was a little more up-to-date than the rest of us (It’s good to be the king…) and told us that Mark Allen (R) of Virginia had, in fact, conceded the Senate race there and that Donald Rumsfeld, long a lightning-rod for the administration, had finally stepped down. As I write this, I know that both the House and Senate are not controlled by the Dems, but at the time of our meeting it was still unclear and fun to speculate.

[As a side-note, I should mention that I’m thrilled the Dems took over Congress for two reasons. First, it means that there’s a better chance my country will start moving in the right direction. Second, it means I was not responsible for keeping the Senate in Republican hands. You see, I requested an absentee ballot from my home state of NJ. It arrived a bit late. The Peace Corps office here in Moldova offered to collect all absentee ballots and overnight them to the PCHQ in DC, and from there they would be mailed to PCVs’ respective states. Unfortunately, I live 3.5 hours south of the capital and wasn’t heading in until the day after they were to be collected. I tried to find others who were going, but couldn’t. So I didn’t vote. The race between Bob Menendez and Tom Kean, Jr. in NJ was one place that the Republicans really felt they could make a last-minute surge, and if my one vote turned out to be the deciding factor in that race, and thereby the majority of the Senate – well, let’s just say it would have been a very bad day. So special thanks to all those voters in the great state of New Jersey who cast their ballots and rendered mine unnecessary. And yes, I know, it’s terrible that I didn’t vote. Cut me some slack – first time I’ve ever missed an opportunity to do so and I think my present situation qualifies as somewhat “extenuating circumstances.”]

All this sets up a very interesting 2008 presidential race 2008. Some points made by James Carville in a recent Newsweek interview:
-This is the first time since 1952 that neither a vice-president nor an incumbant president will run
-This is the first time since 1940 that we don’t know who the Republican nominee will be.

But getting back to Ambassador Kirby… The thing I liked about the meeting was speaking (at length and in a small group) with someone who has spent most of his life overseas – even before becoming a FSO – and getting his take on the events in Moldova and the world. One of the biggest difficulties in this work is to remove our American biases and world-view and truly see a situation through the eyes of a host-country national. Essentially, it’s like trying to have an out-of-body (or out of your mind?) experience. I think by living so long overseas, you in a sense lose some of your “American-ness” and are more easily able to see from another perspective. And if you can do that, then you’re much better equipped to overcome the obstacles that present themselves in the field of international development.

Ps – Favorite quote of the evening: A diplomat is someone who can tell people to go to Hell in such a way that they enjoy the trip.

Visual Update

2006-11-04T15:11:00.000+02:00

It's been a while since I wrote, so I'll try to squeeze it all in here, mostly through photos.

Biznit:

This past weekend, Amy, Bryan, and I held one of our Poosk business seminars. Fifteen students attended, and I think they had a great time and learned some important lessons - particuarly about marketing. [Pictured below: one of the "commercials" to tout the effectiveness of the black, padded folder on the right over the difficult, plastic folder on the left.] There's nothing like teaching in a foreign language to give you a little bit of confidence. At the end of the seminar, we organized a "haunted house" to celebrate Halloween, complete with bobbing for apples and boxes containing a (macaroni) brain, eyes plucked from bad students (wet grapes), and severed ears (dough shaped into an ear). Always nice to toss in a bit of American culture along with the lessons. Afterall, we did hold the seminar in the newly minted American Corner in Ceadir-Lunga. And the kids baked us a cake!

Corn:

The corn collecting is done. This was the big work of the village the past few weeks. Unlike in America, where we think of corn as being harvested and eaten while the stalks are still green and the corn is fresh - or at least that's how I personally thought of it - corn here is allowed to brown and dry out in the fields. Then the husks are cut by hand with tomahawks, placed in piles in the field, then loaded onto tractors and carted off throughout the village and deposited on the road in front of someone's house. Most people have certain rows of corn for which they are responsible during the year. Then people sit for days shucking the corn, which will be used to feed animals during the winter. The dried leaves will also serve as feed and the husks serve as fuel for the "sobas" (like the old-fashioned coal furnaces) to warm houses. Here's me working for a little in one of my neighbor's rows.

Wine:

Corn wasn't the only thing being collected. Grapes were harvested a few weeks ago and I helped my brother gather ours from our small (by Moldovan standards) garden out back. Then we carried the buckets and deposited them into the contraption you see below. There's a hand-crank that turns two grooved cylinders, which squish the grapes as they're pulled through. The juice collects in a large wooden container. When all the grapes are done, buckets of the juice are carried into the basement and poured into large wooden casks. Sometimes sugar is added, sometimes not. In a week, you've got wine to last the whole year through.

iTunes and NPR

2006-10-20T21:06:00.000+03:00

This post has little to do with Moldova, except while living here I've recently stumbled upon something to bring me a little slice of America. It is the ability to download (for free) National Public Radio through Apple's iTunes. Everyday, NPR creates its "shuffle," a selection of stories from that day's broadcasts which are then assembled into a 20-30 minute collection. When I'm in the office, I download several day's at once, load them onto my ipod, and then my 3-hour bus rides between my village and the capital aren't quite as long as they used to be. In fact, it's almost like I'm back in the States (thank you, Hal) listening to the radio in my car on my way to work.

So once again, my hat is off to Apple and NPR for making the life of at least one Peace Corps Volunteer a little better.

A Visitor

2006-10-15T13:51:00.000+03:00

Today, a generous visitor left Copceac to fly home. Her name is Edith and she has led an amazing effort in Germany to help the people of this village.

It all started a couple of years ago when one of the German teachers from our school went to some sort of training in Germany. During her three weeks there, she stayed with Edith. They became fast friends and stayed in touch after the training ended. A year later, in October 2005, Edith and her husband came to Copceac for the first time. After experiencing some of the problems that face the local residents, Edith decided to do something about it.

She organized several donation drives which resulted in new desks, chairs, computers, and clothes being sent to our village. She even made a brochure about Copceac to help explain the situation and how the people of Germany could help.

It was great to meet such a generous person - and I hope to take her up on her generous offer to visit her in Germany.

TV

2006-10-15T13:50:00.000+03:00

We've received the money from the US Embassy for our TV project and will soon start buying things to revamp the local station. I really think this will be great for the village - highlighting successes or celebrations, starting a beginner English show, and hopefully recruiting young people to volunteer there and begin a kind of film-maker's club. I'm excited to get this project under way.

Last night, while watching a little of the news from Moscow, I saw a curious thing: local advertising. This is the wine/grape season, and across the bottom of the screen I saw scrolling messages like, "Excellent grapes! Call Sergie 50-388 or mobile 0693 87999."

Smelling the Roses

2006-10-13T22:40:00.000+03:00

When I went to Ceadir-Lunga for the American Corner opening ceremony, I planned to walk the 30 minutes from my house to the center of the village to get the bus. I usually make this walk whenever I need to go somewhere by bus because (1) the bus doesn't come to my house and (2) there's really nowhere to leave my bike, even if it was locked up. But, I was running late that morning so I needed to ride 7 minutes instead of walk 30. I brought along my bike lock and gave one of my co-workers the key, saying I'd be back the next day and he was free to use it while I was gone.

When I came back to following day, my bike was still locked in the office, but my coworker and key were nowhere to be found. Well, technically, they could be found - in Ukraine. So for the last couple of days I've been without my bike, and it's actually been pretty nice. Usually I just whiz by people, perhaps shouting out a hello as I race past. But on foot, it's easier to get sidetracked by curious onlookers as I did coming out of a store last night and walking to work this morning. I like answering their questions about my work, my country, and myself. A big part of being a PCV is just being here to share that simple information and a couple of laughs.

So, while I'll be glad to pull back into the fast lane once I get my key back, perhaps I'll leave my "hog" in the garage every now and then and just take a stroll.

American Corner

2006-10-11T13:01:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I attended the opening ceremony for the "American Corner" in the main library of Ceadir-Lunga, my regional capital located about 1 hour from my village. American Corners are funded by US Embassies throughout the world and are places for nationals to learn about America through English books, newspapers, magazines, films, and the Internet. I was particularly impressed by this Corner because it didn't seem to pull any punches in attempting to give those who used it an accurate description of America. There were resources there that showed both the height of our achievements and the lows of our history. In the near future, two other PCVs and I will hold one of our Poosk Business Seminars at the new Corner.

The ceremony also afforded me and other local PCVs to meet our new Ambassador, Michael Kirby, and his staff. He and his wife have had pretty wide-ranging lives, living in all over the world and he had some good insights for me about my upcoming Foreign Service Exam (like don't put my feet up on the table during the interview...) Ambassador Kirby also expressed interest in buying some walnuts from my host-brother's fledgling nut business, so hopefully I can set that up.

Thanks to Amy for letting me crash on her couch.

ps - Can you believe it totally slipped my mind to get my photo with the Ambassador?! Guess I'll really have to do that TV project now so he'll come to Copceac for a visit and present another photo opportunity.

Handshakes and Beards

2006-10-09T20:56:00.000+03:00

For men in Moldova, it's very important to shake hands. Whereas in America a wave or head nod or simple "Hello" will suffice when meeting large groups of people, in Moldova it is often considered insulting if a man does not shake your hand. Mind you, this is regardless of the number of people you are greeting or their relationship to you. The hand must be shook.

I'm sure that I've managed to make some social mistakes in this quarter since arriving in Moldova - and if you're a Moldovan whose hand I forgot to shake, I apologize. It was never intentional; it's just not something we do to the same degree in America.

So, you can imagine my surprise when my offer to shake hands with several of my co-workers was turned down. My hand was extended, they clearly saw it, but refused to grab on. I somewhat jokingly insisted as they retreated further from my greeting.

Then a female co-worker explained that they could not shake my hand because someone in their familiy had died. Wow, foot in my mouth. In the Gagauz (and perhaps Moldovan?) culture, when a family member dies the men must grow beards for 40 days, during which time they cannot shake hands with anyone.

Fortunately, most Moldovan men are clean-shaven, so in the future if I see a beard I will know to keep my hand in my pocket. Then again, there are some men who do wear beards and I may offend them if I don't shake. This will be a tricky situation...

Phone Saga

2006-10-09T20:54:00.000+03:00

As I posted earlier, my mobile phone was recently stolen. In my quest to find a replacement, I've run into a tiny problem - there are no cell phones for sale in Moldova.

I don't exactly understand the situation, but I believe the police have cracked down on unauthorized sales of cell phones and have confiscated large numbers of phones all across the country. Two stores in Comrat, two stores in Cahul, and several stores in Chisinau had zero phones for sale. There were a few stores along Chisinau's main drag that had some phones, but the cheapest model available was $75.

I'm going to hold out for a couple weeks until the next group of PCVs departs the country and hopefully pick up one of their used phones. In the meantime, you can call me at home. Oh yeah, and I will have the same cell number when I do get a phone, so no need to go through the agony of reprogramming or re-memorizing my digits.

THIS JUST IN: People are nice! My mayor gave me an extra phone, one PCV offered another extra for free (thank you, Ian), and another departing PCV offered to give me his for free. So, I'm back and you can once again call me on my cell phone - same number as before (posted to the right). Also, I have two cell phones for sale...

Right Away, Mr. Speilberg

2006-10-04T23:35:00.000+03:00

As I've mentioned before, two other PCVs and I are creating a 3-day business seminar. To assist with the marketing class, we decided to shoot a commercial. If I can figure out how to post video next time I'm in the capital, I'll try to put it here. For now, content yourselves with this written account of the commercial:

SETTING: A cold, winter day. The ground is covered in ice. A young boy and girl are walking together. The boy is carrying a couple bags of groceries.

SCENE 1: The Street
Boy: I was hoping you'd like to go to the disco with me on Saturday?
[Suddenly, Boy slips on the ice and falls. The groceries - especially the eggs and flour - go all over him.]
Girl1: Never! Look at you - you can't even stand on your own two feet! [Girl storms away]

SCENE 2: The Store
[A saddened and messy boy returns to the store to buy more groceries to replace those destroyed when he fell]
Store Owner: What happened to you?
Boy: I slipped on the ice and all my eggs fell on top of me. And then my girl said she didn't want to go to the disco.
Store Owner: You know what you need? Yak-Traks! [shows sign in store]
Boy: [Sees a sign for a new product called, "Yak-Traks." Boy reads the sign and sees that this product promises to keep you from slipping on ice.] Hey, mister, do these things really work?
Store Owner: You bet! They're the best things in the whole store. And cheap too! Only 50 lei!
Boy: Wow, I'll take 'em! [Boy puts on Yak-Traks]
[que "Bad to the Bone" music - Boy's messy clothes are magically transformed into a super-cool outfit. Boy leaves store]

SCENE 3: The Street II
[Girl2 and Girl3 see the new, improved Boy]
Girl2: Would you walk us home? It's so cold and slippery we might fall without you.
Girl3: Would you like to go to the disco with us on Saturday?
Boy: [looking directly at the camera and giving a "thumbs up"] Thank you, Yak-Traks!

We plan to talk about the ad with our students. Since Yak-Traks are designed to fit over shoes and not high-heels (which most women in Moldova wear) we really needed to market this product toward men. Thus, it made sense for the purchaser in the commercial to be a man. It also made sense to associate purchasing these Yak-Traks with being able to attract women, a typical male goal. Having the store and the sign show people where our product will be available, and describing the price as "cheap" makes our audience more likely to purchase.

We're also going to use this ad as part of a larger recruitment video that we will show to other PCVs who might be interested in teaching at our seminars in the future.

Disconnected

2006-09-30T22:51:00.000+03:00

My cell phone was stolen today. I was waiting in the center of the village for a bus to arrive so I could send a package on it the following day. When the bus arrived, I left my bag and cell phone where I had been sitting, walked about 20 meters to speak with the driver, and returned a minute later. The phone was gone.

I don't think what happened today is any more or less likely to occur in America. Mobile phones valuable and easily concealed and are stolen all the time. Nonetheless, it never feels great to be the victim of a crime. And I was doing so well on budgeting my Peace Corps allowance this month, too.

I do take some solace in the fact that it could have been much worse - my phone was purchased used and is the cheapest model one can have in Moldova. I'll post again when I get a new phone in few days. In the mean time, feel free to call my old number - posted to the right - at all hours of the day and night. Just because the thief has my phone doesn't mean he gets to enjoy it.

Lost in Translation

2006-09-30T22:47:00.000+03:00

Another PCV recently posted a string of funny conversations he had at site. I thought it was a good idea, so here's one of my own...

First a little background: In Moldova, when someone comes to your house, they wait outside the gate and yell your name. Because you might be deep in the backyard garden, watching the TV extremely loudly, working in another part of the house, or just plain hard of hearing, the "caller" usually stays at the gate for several minutes, yelling the "callee's" name and making high-pitched whistling. [It really makes me think that a doorbell or some sort of "I'm home / I'm not home" sign business would do very well in Moldova. I've now actually made such a sign for my brother.]

At my house, people are usually looking for my host-bother, and even when they're looking for me they sometimes call out his name. If I'm home alone and someone comes a calling, I usually don't answer because I don't want to interrupt what I'm doing to have conversations like the one I had today. But sometimes the screaming and whistling at the gate demands attention:

Caller: Vitalik!
Caller: [20 seconds later] VITALIK! followed by high-pitched whistling. [repeat every 20 seconds for next 5 minutes]
Me: [deciding to stop the insanity, leave my room and yell back from the house door] Vitalik's not here.
Caller: Vitalik?
Me: No, Vitalik's not here.
Caller: Come here.
Me: But Vitalik's not here.
Caller: Come here, I have a question.
Me: [walk to the gate] Vitalik's not here, it's only me.
Caller: Where's Vitalik?
Me: I don't know.
Caller: Is he here?

It Never Rains, but it Pourshttp://www.blogger.com/img/gl.link.gif

2006-09-30T22:46:00.000+03:00

The wine season is upon us. Moldovans are picking their grapes and turning them into home wine. In the fields of the kalhouz, school children from the 8th grade and up get out of school for two weeks to go pick grapes. The kids have mixed feelings about this: on the one hand they get out of school and earn about 50 lei ($5) a day, which is usually handed over to the family's budget; on the other hand these are longer, more physical days than they have in class.

I'm pretty certain that this is required work. If you're not going to participate, you must have a doctor's note to say you're sick. I know several people who have scheduled doctor's visits or operations during this time. Perhaps a coincidence, perhaps not.

I'm reminded of the cotton production of Uzbekistan, which "required" school children to help harvest the nation's cash crop. Unfortunately, I wasn't there during the fall and late summer to be able to fully understand the process.

To better appreciate the process in Moldova, I decided to work a day in the fields. The kids meet at 8am at school. Everyone brings a bucket, clippers, and lunch. A bus takes different classes to different fields. In pairs, students walk down the rows of grapes filling their buckets. When done, they dump the grapes into a large trailer at the end of the rows. Their homeroom teacher stands by the trailer and records how many buckets each student picked.

I had only been there for a little while - enough to pick 2 buckets - when the skies opened up and the rain came down. At first we worked through it, but when it didn't stop we decided to call it a day.

About that time, Oleg called and said he needed my help for a road project some villagers wanted to submit to IREX. I got a ride home, quickly changed out of my soaking clothes, and headed into the office.

While helping with the grant application, two people from LGRP showed up to install 1C (link in Russian or English), an all-encompassing municipal accounting program, on our computers. So I began helping with that too.

All in all, a good productive day that definitely didn't follow the plan.

Tractors

2006-09-25T22:12:00.000+03:00

After dinner tonight, my host-brother asked if I'd help him outside for a moment. Always up for an adventure. He needed me to help him get a large tractor rolling so he could jump in and start it. Because it rained here today, the dirt street was pretty muddy, and we were quickly covered in it. So he gets it started and says, "Brad, ever been in a tractor before? Want a ride?"

I jumped in and we're off, bouncing down the street with our headlights the only illumination. "Where are we going?" I yelled over the engine. "To buy bread." Oh. Glad I'm dirty for a reason. But, we got to the store in no time - well, we got to the store faster than if we had walked. Going over potholed roads in a tractor isn't exactly a speedy operation.

Vitalik buys the bread, and then hops back in the tractor, which has now refused to start. I'm again out back, pushing this tractor a good 100 yards while Vitalik repeatedly tries to start her. Eventually, we ran out of room to push - good thing because my heart was running out of beats per minute. On my cell, Vitalik calls the owner of the tractor, who goes to our house to get my bike so he can ride to us more quickly. He starts the tractor and we head home. Mission accomplished - one loaf of bread heavier.

B-School

2006-09-24T20:16:00.000+03:00

Tis the season of graduate school applications, and many a PCV are consumed by the process. It's really pretty fortunate that we happen to live in a country with fair Internet access, or filling in these puppies would be a beast. Even with the added benefit of instantaneous submission that never gets lost in overseas mail, the process is difficult enough. [To any admissions officer who might be reading this: Did I say difficult? What I meant to say was, "I love your application!" The way you write those questions, the ease of use of your website, and... did I mention how much I like your tie? Really, it's very becoming.]

Special thanks to essay readers and letter of recommendation writers. More on this in a couple months when the acceptance letters start rolling in...

Nuts

2006-09-13T22:59:00.000+03:00

I came home today to the sound of grinding. Piles of walnuts, still in their fruity, green outer shell were being fed into a machine (actually a revamped washing machine) that scraped this layer off, leaving the hard, brown shell that most of us see and struggle to crack to reach the nut inside. My 27-year old host-brother is starting a business, and I’d say he’s off to a fantastic start.

He owns about 10 hectares of walnut trees. Normally he can sell these green walnuts for just under 1 lei (7 cents) per kilo. After peeling off this layer they sell for anywhere from 5 to 13 times that much. So, he and some friend took apart an old washing machine, put a kind of rotating blade on the bottom, and voila – about 1000 kilos of peeled walnuts in a day. The work on the machine cost him about $150, and he’s hoping to save enough to buy a $2500 machine (which I helped him find on the Internet, thank you very much) that actually breaks the inner and harder brown shell and removes the nut, which he can sell for about 60 lei per kilo.

It was so refreshing to see a totally new business in the village – not just another general store. I really think he’s going to be successful.

Going to the Chapel

2006-09-11T19:26:00.001+03:00

Yesterday, I was “hired” by one of the teachers to photograph her daughter’s wedding, probably more on account of owning a digital camera than any actual skill with it. Despite her wanting to pay me something, I refused (as PCVs are not allowed to have any income during our service – I hope my Country Director is reading!), and chose to use the day as an opportunity to experience part of the culture that I had heretofore not seen. [Yes, I just used, “heretofore.”]

I arrived at her house around 2:30 to capture some of the last minute preparations that were going on with all the girls getting dressed for the occasion – seems some things are the same all over the world… Then the groom arrived with another couple, typically a slightly older married pair who act like god-parents for the newly-weds. There’s a lot of music and dancing basically from this point until the wedding ends in the wee hours of the morning. The groom greets the bride, and they try to step on each other’s foot to see who will have the upper hand in the wedding – the groom got lucky, so I guess it’s nothing but barefoot and pregnant for the wifey. There’s lots of greeting of family and some gifts of money.

Then it’s into cars, honking all the way, to drive to the village’s House of Culture, where there’s a civil ceremony and the bride, groom, and “god-parents” sign the wedding certificate. They exchange rings, kiss, drink some champagne, and of course dance some more. Highlight for me was the ceremony’s background music, an instrumental version of George Michael’s “Careless Whisper.”

Then it’s more dancing and honking through the streets, followed by pictures in front of the WWII monument. Moldovans love to take wedding pictures in front of statues. There’s one of Stefan cel Mare, sort of the George Washington of Moldova, in Chisinau, and it’s basically impossible to walk past it on the weekend without seeing several wedding parties lined up to take their photos there. After the monument, we walked quite a distance to Copceac’s last well. Apparently this is a tradition that is only sometimes still honored because it really is quite a distance to walk. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a tradition I’d be willing to let die.

From the well, we hop back in the cars for a quick drive to the restaurant in the next town over. Before entering the hall, the wedding party eats some honey to ensure a sweet life together. There’s a huge line to get in while everyone greets the bride and groom and gives their gifts, usually more money. Then we eat, play some funny games, listen to a few speeches (including one by yours truly), and dance, dance, dance. In case you’re not really getting it thus far, Moldovans LOVE to dance, particularly this circular hora-like dance that just goes around and around forever.

Overall, a pretty great day.

Leaving on a Jet Plane (or more likely a bus)

2006-09-11T19:25:00.000+03:00

The newest accountant, and as far as I’m concerned the best one, told me today that he’s leaving next week to go work abroad in Turkey. I hate that. He’s got a new baby daughter and feels, probably rightly, that he cannot earn enough money in Moldova to support her and his young wife. I’m losing a good friend and co-worker, the office is losing a productive and intelligent accountant, and a family loses its father and husband – not to mention that Moldova loses part of its tax base.

9/11

2006-09-11T19:20:00.000+03:00

Being outside of America and without access to the major media networks, I suppose it’s easy for a PCVs to forget the anniversary of 9/11. Though it hasn’t really been on my mind, I looked at my watch today and saw the date and it triggered this memory from 5 years ago…

I was in Boston, and was supposed to go to the State House that day for a lobbying visit – my first. I was pretty excited about it, and actually walked there, only to be turned away by the guards, who told me the building was closed and everyone had to leave on account of some emergency. When I got back to the office, I heard that a plane had flown into the WTC. “What an idiot,” I thought of the pilot of some imagined prop-plane that had accidentally flown into a tall building. In the ensuing moments I learned what actually happened – it was no prop-plane and it didn’t seem to be an accident.

The Internet news sites, their servers swamped, were about as useful as smoke signals to the blind. Most cell phone lines were busy. I tried to get in touch with a college friend whose apartment next to the WTC I had actually stayed in one winter break. He was unreachable. All work stopped as people sat around radios and TVs. Even though I was nowhere near the site of the attacks, nor were any of my loved ones, we called each other anyway, just to say we were safe.

We were sent home early from work. The Boston T was giving free rides to people, but before I got on I had to just sit in the Commons for a while and cry.

I can’t remember why my apartment didn’t have a TV at the time, but we didn’t. So I spent the rest of the day glued to the fuzzy reception of the TV in the apartment below mine. We didn’t really learn anything that day from the anchors, but we couldn’t stop watching the repetition of the planes hitting the building. It was like watching those old films of JFK getting shot.

At some point I remembered that a few months before I was in NYC with two friends and we bought tickets to go to the top of the WTC. $11, way over-priced I thought. As we rounded the corner from the ticket desk to get to the elevators, we saw a sign that read “At least a 45 minute wait from here to the elevators.” The line was at “here.” Screw this, we thought. We’ve got more important things to do on our day in the City. Besides, the ticket was good for one year. I still have the ticket.

Say what you will about the underlying causes of September 11th regarding American foreign policy; or the way its aftermath was handled by the administration, country singers, and the American public (ala Freedom Fries); or the way it continues to be a rallying cry for nearly everything under the sun – but that day was a world-shaker for me.

I’m not going to inflate the importance of my work here, but I really believe that PC as a whole is making strides toward its ultimate goal of world peace and friendship, and preventing more 9/11s in all countries against all peoples. Let’s remember that while living abroad, PCVs are supposed to be showing host-country nationals that we’re really not all bad – AND, when we go home we become our host-countries’ emissaries, showing Americans that everyone else is really a lot like us.

There and Back Again

2006-09-07T10:23:00.000+03:00

[Pictured to the right is Kiev's Independence Square, site of many protests during Ukraine's Orange Revolution.]

Bryan and I thought we were so clever. We paid half the price for our return tickets as we did for the tickets to Kiev. Clearly, we were owed this after being unable to purchase said return tickets in Chisinau, ariving in Kiev 6 hours late, and standing in the wrong ticket line - the one for same-day ticket purchases - for a good 30 minutes before the woman behind the glass told us we needed to wait in a nearby and even longer line if we wanted to depart two days hence. So we figured we were owed this unexpected windfall, and reasoned it must be cheaper because we were leaving from a bigger city, Kiev.

"What's prodelnista?" Bryan asks as we wait for our train home. "I think it's the 3rd class kind of ticket. Why?" "Because it's printed here on our tickets." Turns out the tickets were cheaper because we were going home in the general class car - not in a 4-person kupee. It's comfortable enough, but there are four loudly debating Russians at my 2 o'clock. I'm hoping the copious amounts of vodka imbibed an hour ago will soon lead them to a deep drunken sleep.

There's also the guys immediately next to me, who are nice enough. We do the typical things - I show my passpot, explain the PC and my role in Moldova, and demonstrate the multiple uses of my Leatherman, attached at my belt. They throw me a curve ball when I'm criticized for not knowing the name of the firm handling the reconstruction at the World Trade Center site.

I'm glad I never used up my rubles from my trip through Russia. They seem to be the prefered currency among the food sellers at the stations along the way, even though we never actually enter Russian territory. I buy baked potatoes, buns, pancakes, and deserts for Bryan and myself. The rubles also pays for our sheets and pillow cases.

I should talk about Kiev. Bryan and I are there for business, not pleasure. We're taking the GMATs in Ukraine because they're not offered in Moldova. During a PCV's two year period of service, each Volunteer is allowed up to 3 days administrative leave, similar to vacation days, for things like job interviews or grad school exams. We leave Sunday night, arrive Monday, take the test Tuesday, depart Wednesday.

Things go according to plan, minus the 6-hour lateness of our train's arrival. Fortunately, we still pull into town early enough for a quick dinner - at TGIFriday's!!! - and a good night's sleep in our surprisingly spacious room at the St. Petersburg Hotel.

My exam is at 9:30, and we didn't have time the night before to explore and find the exact location of the testing center. We try to do so in the morning, but get separated on the metro. As the doors close with Bryan on the crowded train and me on the equally crowded platform, I tell him to go 4 stops ahead and then wait for me. I follow in the next train 30 seconds later, but find no Bryan when I exit the train. Perhaps he thought I meant to go 4 stops and get off at the 5th? I go one more stop and again no Bryan. At this point, I decide that we'll have to find the testing center separately, as the time of my exam is approaching and his isn't until 1:30.

So I eventually find the place - Tech-Expert it's called - despite there being no sign on the building outside or inside. A burly guard's answer to my question, "Is Tech-Expert here?" is the only way I learn I'm in the right place. I worry that Bryan will have a more difficult time finding this place than I, so I leave a note for him with the guard.

The exam itself is going well. Occassionally I get what seems to be an easy math question, which worries me because the exam changes itself based on my previous answer. If I got it right, the next problem is harder; if I got it wrong the next one is easier. So getting lots of easy problems probably means lots of mistakes.

I'm also making great time, and that never happened on any of the practice exams. I'm always right against the time limit, but find myself with 7 minutes at the end of both the math and verbal sections.

Then the score. The waiting. The wondering. Did I just blow a chunk of change and 4 days on this exam, not to mention untold hours spent studying and planning this trip? Are dreams of business school - ok, I don't actually have dreams about graduate programs, it's just for effect - dashed forever? In a word: no. The score pops up on my computer screen and I'm elated.

Bryan is waiting outside. I'm glad he got my note and found the place, and it seems neither of us is angry at the other for this morning's SNAFU. [Later he would tell me that he was worried because he thought I had tears in my eyes. If I did, it was only because I really had to pee. I also learned then that he had gone only 4 stops, but then waited at the top of the escalators instead of at the bottom. Who does that?!]

Now time to experience Kiev. I meet Tanya, the neice of my tutor, and go to a WWII museum and some catacombs. The museum is closed by the time we get there, but there are lots old Soviet tanks and planes outside. The statue of the woman here is known as the "Mother of the Hero." She stands over a square with 13 large blocks, each a symbol for the 13 cities of the Soviet Union that were attacked by the Germans during WWII. The catacombs are almost closed, but we manage to get in and walk around. Old dead monks in clear glass coffins. Not all that interesting for me, but there were plenty of locals praying over/to the departed. Oddly, all the monks burried down below were really, really short.

That night Bryan and I celebrate with sushi and then at a rock/jazz club, Art 44. The club is a hit, especially the second band that performs. Bryan and I feel a special connection with them because the name of their group is Pusk, the same name as our business semina. I doubt, however, that theirs is an acronym for Entrepreneurialistic Learning of Strategy and Commerce.

Special thanks to Taya and Bona, two PCVs with whom I served in Uzbekistan now serving in Ukraine, for their excellent recommendations of things to do in Kiev. Also thanks to Tanya for showing me around her city. And thanks to Bryan for

Homes

2006-08-31T20:09:00.000+03:00

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?

2006-08-31T19:42:00.001+03:00

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

2006-08-31T18:05:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-24T09:14:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-16T23:53:00.000+03:00

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...

2006-08-16T23:44:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-15T00:02:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-06T06:21:00.000+03:00

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

2006-08-02T14:16:00.000+03:00

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!

I Hate Flies

2006-07-27T12:55:00.000+03:00

I hate them. I hate flies with every ounce of my being. I especially hate Moldovan flies which are very different from American flies. Sure, they look the same, talk the same, and may even go to the same church, but there is a difference. Moldovan flies have a mean streak. It's not so mean that they would come right out and bite you; it's far more devious and, as it drives you slowly insane, ultimately far more sinister. Their mean-ness is of the annoying kind, like the adolensent little brother who in the back seat of the car on a long trip insists you have no right to be angry because his finger which is directly in front of your eye is not techically touching you. American flies will, for the most part, leave you alone - particularly once you've swatted at them a few times or said something like, "Shoo fly, don't bother me." Moldovan flies, however, are social creatures and love to hang out with me and have decided to make my bedroom party central. They land on me when I'm typing or reading or sleeping or eating and just stroll around on my body. Unlike the polite American flies, they've no qualms about landing on my face or repeatedly buzzing about and landing on me after I've numerously, vociferously, and in multiple languages (ly) told them to take a hike.

I've taken to keeping the door and window closed as much as possible to keep new flies from joining the club; go on rageful killing sprees every other day with "Mike," an old Newsweek; and recently purchased some fly paper, which despite some moderate success has failed to achieve the kind of annihilation of the species for which I was hoping. Thus, the war continues...

I may not be looking forward to winter with its indoor ice-box-like temperatures and lack of fruits and veges, but at least there won't be any more of these damned flies! I HATE THEM!

Say Cheese

2006-07-25T16:52:00.000+03:00

Yesterday I bought 10kg (22 pounds) of a cheese I've found only in Moldova, brinza. It's a fairly hard white cheese that can be made from just about any kind of milk, and I love it. I bought this cheese from one of my neighbors for about $1 per pound and I hope it will last a long time.

To preserve it, I borrowed five 3-liter glass jars from my host-brother and basically pickled the cheese. To do this, boil water and keep adding salt until an egg will float in the water (incidentally, someone else in my village told me this is similar to how you make wine, adding sugar to the juice until an egg floats). Allow the water to cool - if it's too hot it will "melt" the cheese and make it too soft - and put the pieces of cheese in the empty glass jars. Then pour the warm salty water over the cheese until the jars are almost full. Lastly, seal the jars with a special canning device and voila - cheese that will last forever!

Tom Brokaw? Who dat?

2006-07-25T16:50:00.000+03:00

Since I first arrived in Copceac in November, 2005, my first host-mother here was asking me to help her with her part-time job of running the local television station. I really wasn't interested, which made for an interesting living situation and may be at least partly responsible for me moving out. I felt there were bigger fish to fry - getting running water, better heating, improving schools - than improving a device that would allow Moldovans to spend even more time than they already do (which is a lot) in front of the boob tube.

But as I continued to hear about this idea from her and after discussing it with the mayor and local attorney, I came around to the idea of fixing up the local TV station - and here's why... There is no local media outlet in this village. Everything is by word of mouth - which, at least, as it relates to my activities seems to spread through the village at warp speed. But in other areas that do not concern the sole American living here, news proceeds more slowly and often gets garbled along the way. In America, the media often expose and focus the public spotlight on abuses, which eventually lead to reform. Nothing like that happens here because the media is often completely or semi-state run. If independent, journalism is such a new field that stories do little more than repeat what talking heads say and fail to delve deeply into the issues, let alone take part in any kind of self-directed investigative journalism. So, from a reform- and democratic-minded point of view, with a goal of bringing more information to the 10,000 residents of Copceac so they can make better decisions about their lives, I began to see value in revamping the local television station.

Apparently, during the Soviet times there was a pretty decent station here, but now the antennae is broken, the video camera is broken, and editing is done by copying one VHS tape onto another. Nowadays, most of the "shows" consist of text scrolling across the screen while some random still picture creates a background.

So, we wrote a grant to the US Embassy's Democracy Commission Small Grants Program, and yesterday I found out we won! The grant will give us about $5,000 to repair the antennae, purchase a new mini-DV video camera, a computer, and several miscellaneous products. Though no Steven Spielberg, I have some experience making short films on my computer, so I will help teach those working at the TV station how to use the new technology to produce quality news programs. I may even do a beginner English language weekly show once the project gets off the ground - or maybe something called "Cooking Without Potatoes."

Looking at this whole project from a more general standpoint, I think it's a good example of how PCVs tend to not fully understand their sites when we first arrive, but eventually figure things out. I had some preconceived notions about what was needed - water, better schools, etc. And while I still maintain that those things are important, there are other groups within the village working with some success on those problems, they're issues that are probably too big for just me, and they don't really fall within my area of expertise. [Really, what do I know about water pipes and drainage systems?] But, after some time here and learning the layout - and matching that information with my own interests and skills - this PCV came up with a successful project, or at least one that I hope will be. I'm sure more will come on this topic as we move to implement the funds that were awarded.

I Play Host

2006-07-20T12:35:00.000+03:00

Over the last few days, I hosted my first Couchsurfer, Vihn Pham. He's a pretty amazing fellow who's led a pretty amazing life - born in Vietnam, when he was 9 his parents paid 2 ounces of gold to get him a space on a boat bound for a refugee camp, he lived there and at another camp for 5 months, then moved to Utah where over the course of his adolescence he lived with 3 foster families, put himself through college while he worked in an IT job, then decided it was time to see the world so he flew to Portugal, purchased a used car, and has driven all over Europe and hopes to get as far as Malaysia.

Vihn gave me a ride back to my village, I made him tacos, he showed me how to use Adobe Photoshop, and I gave him a book. It was nice to have some company and I wish him the best on the rest of his trip.

I'll be hosting some more folks, other PCVs this time, this weekend to prepare for a 3-day business camp for youth that we'd like to start in September.

Old Work Comes to Fruition - not PC

2006-07-20T12:33:00.000+03:00

This post is completely unrelated to PC, but something I worked on in the States and I'm happy to report that the slow wheels of government have finally brought it to fruition. The issue involves fires, specifically those ignited by a carelessly disposed cigarette. Turns out, cigarettes are the #1 cause of all fatal household fires, igniting over one-third of these blazes. Usually, a fire starts when a person falls asleep and a lit cigarette falls into a couch or bed. There, because of the way a cigarette is manufactured, it can continue to smolder sometimes for hours. Thus, it is not until after most have fallen asleep that a fire actually erupts, which is why these fires tend to be so deadly.

But it doesn't have to be that way. Cigarettes can be manufactured to "self-extinguish." Instead of burning for hours, by creating small "speed bumps" in the cigarette's paper its burn will slow and eventually stop once left idle.

As I wrote in "Where There's Smoking, There's Fire," this technology has existed since the 1980s, but the Tobacco Industry never implemented it.

Cars are equipped with seat belts, proper bumpers, and a slew of other safety features. Toys are made to ensure that they do not pose choking hazards. Lighters are required to have simple safety locks and halogen lamps turn off automatically if they get too hot. All of these basic product safety measures save lives. Manufacturers are required to make their products safe and minimize harm. The tobacco industry must be held to the same basic consumer product safety principles.

My endeavors to make this change into a law were unsuccessful, but through the continuing work of Eric Bourassa at MASSPIRG, Massachusetts Governor Romney recently signed the bill into law. Now that six states have this law (MA, NY, CA, VT, IL, and NH) and one-quarter of the US population are covered by it, I hope that the Tobacco Industry will see fit to switch all its product lines in all states to these less-incendiary kinds.

Well, that or just stop making cigarettes all-together...

Hooray for Me

2006-07-20T12:23:00.000+03:00

I passed the written portion of the Foreign Service Exam. Next step is an interview in the States. I think the dates are flexible enough that I may be able to do it after my PC Service is completed - otherwise it could be a very expensive 2nd round, should I choose to go. For now, "it's an honor just to be nominated..."

A Wonderful Surprise

2006-07-13T16:08:00.000+03:00

Today I received a care package from a total stranger, Mary Horn - you can see the moment she decided to do this under her April 2006 blog entries. She found my blog and decided to send me some goodies just because. Totally made my day.

Maybe I should change my wish list to t-bills and Wal-Mart stock?

Catching Up with Canning

2006-07-13T16:03:00.000+03:00

Just before leaving for vacation, I had an "opportunity" to can fruit for the winter. I use the quotation marks because though I may revel in the vacuum-sealed goodness come December, for my novice run it was a royal pain in the arse. But a confluence of events - Krista was just emerging from nearly a month holed up in the medical apartment (meaning I had access to its pristine kitchen and a partner in canning), I had a bundle of 1-liter jars I had requested from my computer class students, and the final crop of strawberries was upon us - presented a brief
window of opportunity so I took it.

This is a pretty common part of life in Moldova - people can food in the summer and fall when goods are cheap so they can eat well in the winter when they're more expensive. They make juices, jams, pickle things (which sadly include watermelon - yech!), and I think sometimes meat.

So let me tell you how it's done. First you buy the fruit - in our case 12kg of strawberries. Then wash and de-stem (which should be done by pulling the stem off with your fingers, not by cutting it off with a knife, which wastes a lot of strawberry). Then, if you're a local, you smother your pile of strawberries (which should be in a huge pot) with sugar on a one-to-one ratio. We opted for a less tooth-decay option of 7kg of sugar to 12kg of strawberries. Then you wait until all the sugar is absorbed. Next, you cook everything over a low flame. The amount of time here varies - I've heard everything from 40 minutes to 10 minutes a day for 3 days to a constant vigil of 24 hours of switching the stove off and on so the berries don't burn. I think we cooked them about 3 hours.

Now comes the fun/dangerous part of actually canning. To sterilize the cans, you should place them in a separate pot of boiling water. After they've been in there for a while, take them out and ladle your jam into them. Then place them standing up in another large pot of boiling water (ours was borrowed from the PC doc - it's basically a large metal cube). Let everything heat up and then pull out one can at a time to put the lid on. Incidentally, the lid should also be sterilized, but shouldn't be left in the boiling water too long because the rubber seal might deteriorate.

To seal the lid on the can, there's a special instrument that's basically a pipe-cutter. You place it on the top of the lid and keep spinning it around the edge. Each time you do so, a wheel presses a little further in on the sides of the lid until the seal is complete. Then turn the jar upside-down and allow to cool. As the air and jam inside the can cool, the molecules compress and thus, a vacuum is born.

Though I'm taking a humorous tack here, I should note that this was hard work. Carrying 30 pounds of strawberries from the market to the apartment, cleaning and de-stemming for several hours, stirring and monitoring the stove for several more, and using an instrument with a poorly designed grip to bend metal onto a jar that had only seconds before been sitting in boiling water is not exactly a recipe for relaxation. Of course, this didn't stop us from doing it all over again with 10kg of raspberries the next day.

Here are some things I learned:
1. Best to buy, wash, and cover the fruit with sugar on day 1 and let sit over night. Then on the morning of day 2 you can start cooking and canning.
2. Despite the cavities, it's probably better to use more sugar than we did. Our jam wound up being fairly watery, and I think more sugar would act as a coagulant. I suppose we could have also cooked everything for longer, but on such a low flame it would have taken forever to enough water to evaporate.

The end result was 8 liters of strawberry jam and another 8 liters of raspberry. I had fantasized that when I returned to America, I would can lots of things for the rest of my life - maybe give special holiday gifts of homemade jellies - but I think I'll content myself with buying the ready-made stuff off the supermarket shelf. That said, I am looking forward to doing this process all over again in September when tomatoes drop from 20 lei a kilo ($1.50) to 4 lei (20 cents). Gotta have my tomato sauce in the winter!

Mongolia

2006-07-11T21:16:00.000+03:00

A Lebanese tourist I met on my first day in a hostel in Ulaanbaatar gave the most apt description of Mongolia. He had just returned from a 20-day tour of the country and pondered, “Is there one square kilometer of this country that isn’t gorgeous?” If it exists (outside of the capital UB), I didn’t see it.

Some stats: The country has 2 million people, half of whom live in the capital. Because I’m really smart, I can tell you without a doubt that the other half live outside the capital, scattered across a nation twice the size of Texas. The ratio of horses to people is 13:1. There are about 1100 Mongolian tugrik to 1 US dollar, and staying one night in a very clean and well-run hostel with hot running water cost $5 – definitely stay at the UB Guesthouse. The Mongolian diet consists of basically two things: milk and milk products, preferably with some horse, yak, lamb, goat, or beef. One would be hard-pressed to survive if you didn’t like dairy products. Indeed, when I returned to Moldova I met a new PCV here who was originally slated to go to Mongolia but got switched because she is lactose intolerant.

I was amazed at both how developed and undeveloped (and by this I mean pristine, not necessarily lacking or in need of reform) the country was. The capital, UB, has basically every amenity a Westerner could want. I ate at a Mexican and Indian restaurant, chilled in a wireless internet café that served real coffee. Some upscale apartment complexes would be considered just as good as those in the States. And even the regional capitals have impressive guest houses, cafes, and internet access. Most of this has no doubt arisen to cater to the growing number of adventure seeking tourists and increasingly the international aid workers who live there full-time.

Yet step out of a city and into a ger, the traditional teepee-like dwellings of steppe nomads, and you step into another world. Some have electricity because of solar panels or car batteries hooked up to electronics, but most go without. There’s a wood stove in the center with a metal chimney that extends up through a hole in the roof. The floor is usually covered with a wood frame and beds and cabinets are positioned against the curving wall. Herding is the repast of the people and they do it with the skill of those who have been keeping animals for generations.

There are no subdivisions within the walls of a ger; it’s just one big room for an entire family. So privacy is basically out of the question, plus it is common practice for friends and neighbors to simply stop by and open the door – there is no knocking. As an American in need of personal space, living this way might drive me batty. But for a Mongolian, it would be just as strange to be without this ever-present community. And I suppose they get plenty of privacy in the expansive emptiness beyond the walls of the ger.

Enough of the generalities – let me tell you what I did. Got off the train and met Lizzie, had another blast at a Russian Embassy (see next entry), spent one night in UB and met an international assortment of travelers who became my “tour group,” took a 11 hour ride out to Lizzie’s ger stopping along the way to walk through the old capital. From Lizzie’s our group split into three subdivisions.
Mine went to a nearby village for its annual Nadam Festival, with competitions in archery, wrestling, and horse racing. The next day I left for a two-day horseback-riding trip, which left me wondering what kind of sadist designed Russian and Mongolian saddles? Then hopped back on an 11-hour bus back to UB, basically pulled an all-nighter because I was afraid I wouldn’t wake up in time for my plane.

[A quick side-note about travel within Mongolia... To say the roads are bad would be like saying the sun is hot. I think more than anything else, creating 4 paved roads that extended from UB along the points of the compass to Mongolia's borders would create the biggest boost in GDP and the standard of living. On my way back to UB, I rode the "post bus," creatively named because it carries the mail. For an 11-hour trip I paid about $8. The door is jammed shut by wedging a 30-liter plastic container between the first step and the door. Along the way our muffler fell off and it was generally agreed that it was beyond repair and better left on the side of the road. And if a young boy needs to pee while the bus is moving, his mother takes him to the door and he pisses toward the door from the top step. Eventually, it trickles out.]

This was a great first foray to Mongolia, but one week is far too short to see all that this nation has to offer. I’d love to go back and see the Gobi Desert in the south and head further west than I did to reach the higher mountains. FYI, one could literally get to Mongolia, buy a horse for about $100, and ride it all over the country. The whole place is just open grazing land. Maybe next time...

Special thanks go to Lizzie, my PCV pal from Uzbekistan now serving in Mongolia, for playing tour guide and host during my stay. Also thanks to her friend Amy for co-facilitating my stay and losing gracefully in our final game of Gin Rummy. And also thanks to Geoff from Australia for making this a nice picture. I’m definitely convinced that PCVs – with their language skills, cultural awareness, and American tastebuds – make the best guides for fellow Americans. Now if only I could convince PCVs in every country to drop their work and show me around…

Russian Visa Saga

2006-07-11T21:13:00.000+03:00

And now, I should tell yet another Russian visa story… I won’t repeat what I’ve already posted about getting my first visa, and will focus here on my attempt to get a transit visa in order to fly to Moscow, spend 24 hours there, and then fly out of a different airport and back to Moldova.

This daunting task had been weighing heavily on me since I left Moldova. I had read on several internet sites that I shouldn’t even bother trying to get a visa from the Russian Embassy in UB. This sense of dread was only exacerbated when I met a State Dept. officer at a café before heading to the Russian Embassy. She told me there were only two Russian Embassies in the world that didn’t give visas directly to Americans, only working through tour companies – and Mongolia had one of them.

Now I arrived in UB on a Monday and was flying out early Sunday morning. I was planning to take a 10-hour bus ride out to the countryside on Tuesday. If I was going to need my visa for my departing flight, that would mean I could spend one day (Wed) in the countryside at Lizzie’s ger, then blow all of Thursday on another 10-hour bus ride back to UB in order to pick up my passport and visa on Friday. Then I’d have to sit around in the capital all day Saturday and leave Sunday. In short, timing the pick-up of my visa could ruin my vacation. I had hoped I might just pay through the nose to get my visa processed in one day.

In case that wouldn’t be possible, I asked the owner of the hostel where I was staying if she could pick up my visa for me and I’d get it from her on Saturday evening. She replied that unlike the Chinese Embassy where she would do this all the time for her guests, the Russian Embassy did not allow it. Typical.

So I go to the Embassy. It only processes visas from 2-3pm each day, so I’m there by around 1:50, armed with passport photos, an already filled-in visa application downloaded from the internet, copies of my plane tickets, and US dollars, Russian rubles, and Mongolian tugrik. There are others waiting outside the locked gates and I begin chatting with them. One young Russian woman, Anna, happens to work for a tour company and is there to drop off visa applications for some of her clients. I explained my situation to her and she said she picks up her clients’ passports and visas all the time and she offers to do the same for me with no charge!

Once inside, I’m really trying to charm the pants off the Russian embassy officer, making jokes in Russian in an effort to win her willingness to (a) give me a visa and (b) let Anna pick it up for me. In the end, she agrees, saying that Anna’s name needs to be on the receipt and she must bring some ID when she picks it up. Hooray!

There is, of course, the slight uneasiness I feel at a person I’ve only known for 10 minutes getting my passport on a Wednesday, holding on to it until Saturday, and then meeting somewhere in UB to give it back to me. But I really didn’t have any other options (unless I wanted to spend only one day outside a bus and capital city). Long story short, everything worked out and my vacation was saved.

As soon as I find out which tour company Anna works for, I’ll post it here.

Trans-Siberian Railway

2006-07-10T22:19:00.000+03:00

For 4 days and 5 nights I took the train from Moscow to Ulaanbaatar. I traveled 2nd class, four people to a room with two sets of bunk beds. In my room were two girls from France, Anne and Jihane, and a Mongol student, Gumtuya, who had just completed her first year at Moscow State University and was on her way home for the summer. There were about 10 rooms to a car, and about 15 cars in the train, including one dining car and one baggage car for oversized items. Each car had one toilet and sink at one end and a small hot water boiler (powered by burning cardboard or pretty much anything else) at the other. Next to the “boiler” was the room of the produnistra, basically a stewardess for the car and responsible for cleaning everything at least once a day – ours did a pretty good job of keeping the bathroom sparkling, I’m happy to report.

I suppose because the train was going through Russia I naively figured that the passengers would be mostly Russian and we’d chat away the long hours. In hindsight, I see this would be like taking a plane from Japan to India and expecting everyone on board to be flapping away in Mandarin since we’d fly over China to reach our destination. Our train was practically all Mongolians, and most of them didn’t understand, or at least couldn’t speak, Russian. [Actually, when a Mongolian passed our open room door as he walked down the hallway, he would say something in Mongolian to Gumtuya, who would then say it in Russian to me, then I’d speak in English to Anne and Jihane, then they’d discuss it amongst themselves in French, and then we’d go back the way we came with the answer.]

Most of my days were spent reading, playing slap jack with the Frenchies, sleeping, or strumming my guitar. And of course, looking out the window. One night we had an impromptu concert in the dining car between me and a drunk Mongolia who knew a few songs. FYI, if ever playing for a multi-national audience, go with the Beatles. Everyone knows it.

About every 4 hours the train stops somewhere for 20-30 minutes and all Hell breaks loose. You see, the Mongol passengers are not merely passive travelers; they’re on a mission to sell, sell, sell! Almost every passenger brought not only their own personal suitcase or two, but also bags of jeans, skirts, blouses, shoes, and other items to sell along the way. As there is not enough room in a typical 4-person room for all these items, some complete with torso-mannequins, Mongols ask to stow extra baggage in other’s rooms. During the course of the trip we probably had 5-6 other peoples’ boxes stashed somewhere in our room.

Anyway, when the train stops our Mongol horde jumped out to hock their goods through a window to crowds of anticipating Russian women looking for the latest fashions from Moscow. It reminded me of those game shows where people raced through a supermarket, grabbing the highest dollar total of products before their 60-second time limit expired. So too were both buyers and sellers looking to complete as much business as possible before the train started moving again.

For my part, stations were an opportunity to walk around a bit take a break from looking out the window at scenery. There were also usually small shops that sold water and packets of noodle soup and similar products along the way. Sometimes local Russians would turn up to sell freshly baked potatoes, fruit, or once some very delicious roasted chicken. Though the dining car does a few dishes well enough and is cheap by American standards, its relatively expensive when compared to these other options. Thus, I only at there a couple times and always availed myself to the local goods. Then I and the French girls would devour our packets of noodles, they’d give me some tea, and I’d give them some peanut butter.

I should also mention that passing through the border between Russia and Mongolia takes forever. It was about 3.5 hours on the Russian side, then a 20 minute ride through a kind of no-man’s land, and then another 2 hours on the Mongolian end. And during this whole time period the bathrooms are locked. So as my parents used to tell me before a long car ride, it’s a good idea to at least “try” before reaching the border. And you might want to have an empty bottle on hand, too…

If I had it to do over again, I’d try to skip the train from Moscow to Irkukst and take a cheap flight instead. The scenery between these two cities is pretty monotonous forests – maybe prettier in the fall. It also would have been nice to spend a few days hiking around Itrkukst’s neighbor, Lake Baikal, the deepest lake in the world containing almost one-fifth of the earth’s fresh water. But between Lake Baikal/Irkurkst and UB the landscape is quite gorgeous.

Also, if you're looking to do this kind of trip yourself and don't have access to the train station in Moscow to buy your tickets, I'd recommend visiting ConnectRussia. They were the best help I found in purchasing a ticket online.

Moscow

2006-07-10T21:48:00.000+03:00

During this, my first PC vacation, I was in Moscow for about 36 hours before hopping on board the Trans-Siberian Railway to Ulaanbaatar, Mongolia. I set out to make the most of my short time in the capital city and I think I did a pretty good job. Like everyone else, I went to Red Square and saw St. Basil’s Cathedral, took a look inside Christ’s Church, and then basically walked a marathon all over the city. On my second day there, I took a 3-hour walking/bus tour with a company called Capital Tours and I highly recommend it to anyone else visiting Moscow. It really explains a lot of the history, gave me a good layout of the city, and helped me to identify areas I’d like to explore further on my own in the future.

Some interesting factoids I learned:
1. To stress the Communist independence (or disbelief) in God, the original Christ Church was destroyed by Stalin, who installed a swimming pool where its foundation once stood. The Church you see today is an exact replica that was completed in 1995. You can’t take pictures inside, so there are none posted here, but it’s beautiful and definitely worth the (free) trip inside. [Incidentally, the Russian subway system is also beautiful and every station is different. Sadly, you’re also not supposed to take pictures there and I didn’t want to risk my camera being confiscated.]
2. The Kremlin is a 60-acre complex surrounded by high red walls. Inside, there are three churches, a couple museums, and the actual building where Putin works everyday. During WWII, when the German Luftwaffe was within range of Moscow, the Russians covered all 60-acres with a giant camouflage tarp and built a wooden replica of the Kremlin in a nearby park. The ruse worked and the “park” was bombed while the real Kremlin survived.
3. Moscow is a city of many architectural styles, which is due inadvertently to Napoleon. When his troops conquered the city, they got pretty drunk off the Russian vodka and started a fire that burned down almost 80% of the city. As a result, much of it was rebuilt in a Renaissance style. Each future leader of the city placed their own stamp on the city when new buildings were erected.

My stay in Moscow was made even better by my first stay with a fellow Couchsurfer. This website, linked to on the right, helps people willing to host someone for a night or two on their couch meet one another. I met Dmitry and his wife, Lena, at their metro stop and spent a fun evening trading my American songs on the guitar with Dmitry’s Russian ones.

Some miscellaneous observations: I think during my first stay in Moscow I was going through a bit of a culture shock. I arrived at the airport, was able to stow my bags for a couple dollars, figure out the mass-transit shuttle system that brings people to the nearest metro station, and then ate a sushi lunch at a place where the wait staff seemed generally interested in my welfare. It was almost as if someone saw a need and then figured out a way to fulfill it – that tourists might want a place to store their luggage while walking around, that they might need easily explainable directions to mass-transit instead of paying $50 for a taxi, and that they might want prompt service at a restaurant. Crazy, eh?

Who are these guys?!

I'm off...

2006-06-26T18:28:00.000+03:00

...Off-line, off-work, and off to see Russia and Mongolia. As I finished up most of my computer classes this week, I thought to myself, "I could really use a vacation." And here it is and I'm very excited about it. Will be back in a couple weeks. Might make some posts or check email over vacation, but probably not. Don't bother calling my cell phone because it doesn't work outside of Moldova.

Uzbekistan Revisited

2006-06-26T12:57:00.000+03:00

Wow, this is an amazing story. Seems more info - a video (albeit government censored) - has gotten out about the protest/revolution/massacre that occured in the Andijon region of Uzbekistan while I was serving as a PCV there. This event proved the straw (or thousand tons of bricks) that broke the camel's back and ultimately led to all PCVs being evacuated and PC completely shutting down there.

Interestingly, one of the new Moldovan Volunteers who arrived about a 2 weeks ago said she was supposed to go to Uzbekistan to re-open the post there in January, 2006 - only 6 months after the post was closed. To me, this seems a bit hasty. I say this NOT because I think Uzbekistan would be a nation too dangerous for PCVs. I say this because PC host-countries must invite PC to work there, and only as of June 2005 the Uzbek government was refusing to renew our visas so we could continue to work there, to answer their phones or open the door when PC staff called, and they even failed to respond to an official communiqué from the US ambassador. Does this sound like the kind of host you want to have for two years?

I do think it is important for PC to re-establish itself in Uzbekistan, but it should be done at the right time and in the right way to prevent yet another evacuation.

The Silent Killer

2006-06-17T22:14:00.000+03:00

This is a common topic among PCVs in this part of the world, but one that I have yet to address on this blog. The silent killer of which I speak is called "The Current." In America, we would call it wind.

Here, the Big C has taken on almost mythical proportions. It kills, it maims, it lays the healthy low, and is the cause for just about any health problem from the common cold to a stroke. [Seriously, another PCV's family insists that the reason half of their grandmother's body is paralyzed is because a few days before it happened she was outside and exposed to the air.]

This is more than just the typical American mother telling her child to bundle up before going outside to play. This is closing all windows in cars and houses on the warmest days and nights. This is wearing hats and sweaters when I'm dripping in shorts and a t-shirt. This is wrapping babies in so many layers that even their fingernails sweat. The Current is a deadly adversary against whom all must be on their guard.

I think one reason why the threat of the Current is so tangable here is that the other causes for illness are perhaps too difficult to face. Why does Junior need an operation? Is it because his mother can't afford to buy him nutritious food or doesn't understand that so much oil and fat and alchohol and candy are bad for his health? Is it because the well water is unclean due to the proximity of outhouses? Is it because the mercury in the house during the winter never rises above "I can see my breath?" These possibilities (or probabilities) call into question the ableness of a
family or community to raise a child, a tough pill for any culture to
swallow. Far easier, though ultimately less productive, to blame it on some some supernatural, omnipresent, and unstoppable force.

The recent upshot of all this in my life is that all modes of transportation (save my bike) have taken on a striking resemblence to a saunas on wheels. There's rarely air-conditioning available, and if there is it is most certainly not on. Windows are closed. On public transportation, tiny sun-roofs that can be pushed up about two inches (for the very purpose of letting fresh air in, I might add) are quickly clamped down once a bus starts moving. We're packed like sardines into these mobile steamrooms, most of us smell bad to begin with, and by the time we get out we're worse.

I think it's far more likely that people get sick due to breathing in everyone's germs in this sealed environment than from cracking a window. But that's just me. And while I do believe that eventually this belief will fall by the wayside, it certainly won't be during my two years of service here. So, I just try to get a seat by the window or stand by the sun-roof and through the glares of "What the hell is he doing?!" and the occasional protest, I open a crack to let in just a little bit of our nemesis. Our wonderful, refreshing, cooling, invigorating nemesis.

ps - How many people can you fit onto a marshutka (minibus)? One more.

Feedback

2006-06-15T21:28:00.000+03:00

During the 4 years I worked after college and before PC, I always had feedback sessions at my places of employment. For those unfamiliar with this term, it's a time for an employer and employee to give each other an honest assessment of the other's work and suggestions about how to improve in the future. When done correctly, each person walks away feeling good about their accomplishments to date and excited about continuing to grow their skills and abilities. When done poorly, both parties can feel hurt and resentful.

Now that my 4 computer classes are about half-way through, I decided to distribute a feedback questionnaire to my students to learn their likes and dislikes, what they were most looking forward to learning in the remaining classes, suggestions for the future, and even common grammatical Russian mistakes they've heard me make.

[Amusing sidenote: Turns out the Russian word for "folder" is only one letter removed from the word for "ass." So from time to time when I've asked people to open a particular folder on the computer, well... you can figure it out.]

While virtually all the forms were complimentary and there were some good suggestions that I've since incorporated into our classes, it seemed there was a general lack of understanding about the purpose of the questionnaire. Many of the answers were word for word copies from their classmates and most answers were only vague generalities like, "I like everything." And while it could be possible that everyone really does like every class just as much as every other class - I mean lets not forget the stud-meister whose teaching these babies - I think it's more likely that they just didn't want to be so direct in criticisms.

This is a running theme in Moldovan culture - there's a lot of indirect, non-confrontational maneuvering around the main point. And there's a lot of confrontation and yelling for no good reason that fails to resolve a lot of issues. Ironically (to an American), it's the indirect offenses that are often more hurtful than the yelling matches, which people seem to shrug off as if it were simply a typical conversation.

But I digress... let's get back to feedback. So my Russian tutor is helping me translate some of the answers on these feedback forms when she asks me, "What exactly is feedback?" She said that this word appeared a few years ago in Moldova and every time she go to a seminar people ask for feedback this and feedback that, but none of her peers in the audience really know what it is.

I explained the concept and with an example of what if all the teachers could give feedback to the principal and vice-versa? People could explain what problems they had and more importantly offer solutions - of course all in a way so as to not offend the feedbackee. She really liked the idea, and so did I. So I think sometime I'm going to give a seminar at one of the schools (and maybe some other organizations) about giving and getting feedback, and hopefully that will make the school run a little better.

And of course, in the next set of computer classes, I will explain in greater detail how feedback works.

Visa II

2006-06-08T18:08:00.000+03:00

My trip to the Russian Embassy today was... well, you can read about it and decide for yourself. Once again, there was the usual crowd of yelling Moldovans outside the gate. Once again, I saw an elderly woman burst into tears when whatever document she wanted apparently wasn't going to be completed. And once again I walked away only partially satisfied. [For the first leg of this journey, click here.]

This time I returned, having made the decision that I would get one single-entry visa for the first part of my upcoming vacation and one transit visa for my second (and shorter) stay in Russia. I was armed with an official invitation, purchased online and UPS-ed in its original non-copy, non-fax form. Below is an excerpt from my conversation with the man in charge of granting visas.

ME: I would like a single-entry visa and a transit visa
HIM: [After seeing my invitation], Vell, I cannot geeve you a tranzit viza because yu doo not hav yoor plane tickets.
ME: But I do have them, right here [I pull them out of a folder.]
HIM: ... [He takes the plane tickets and invitation wordlessly and disappears into another room]

I had countered his typical defense with the secret weapon of preparedness. Fortunately for him, 5 minutes later he was able to regroup and strike down my strategy with an even mightier one: absurdity.

HIM: Vee cannot give you a tranzit viza because vee cannot give you two viza at same time. You go to Russian Embassy in Mongolia. They shut one viza and give new viza.
ME: But...
HIM: I already said you. Go to Russian Embassy in Ulaanbaatar.

So, the saga continues. I paid $60 and in two weeks I can come back and get my single-entry visa, so at least I'll be able to (in theory) get from Moldova to Moscow to Mongolia. The tricky part that remains will be getting out of Mongolia, through Moscow, and back to Moldova. Hopefully procuring a transit visa from the Russian Embassy in Ulaanbaatar won't prove too difficult or waste too much of my vacation, but I wouldn't be surprised if it did.

Moral: There are plenty of places on this earth that I haven't been that don't require visas. Why don't I go there?

Good Links

2006-06-08T17:46:00.000+03:00

Ok, so every now and then another PCV hits a subject so squarely on the head that it would be pointless to try to rewrite an excellent blog entry in my own words. So, for your cultural education today, please direct your attention to these other blogs...

How a Woman Becomes a Grandmother

Drinking Habits

Homework Helper

Internet Update

2006-06-02T10:29:00.000+03:00

This entry doesn't so much relate to the cultureal "goings-on" of Moldova, but I think it's an important development in the life of PCVs in Moldova (including PCV-ME) and perhaps PCVs worldwide.

Technology - mostly through the Internet - is increasingly important in the lives of PCVs. For example, I'm teaching several computer classes, maintain a blog, and email regularly with friends and family in the States. I'd be lying if I said that the last two items were solely to complete a PC goals to share information about our host country with Americans, but it happens all the same. And though many PCVs throughout the world live without electricity and thus without the Internet, I'd wager that 99.99% of Volunteers currently serving use email every time they're in their respective PCOffices.

So, after repeated requests by our Volunteer Administration Committee to the powers that be, we now have several ethernet plug-in cords for laptops in the PCLounge. Given that the percentage of PCVs with laptops has exploded over the last few years, this is an important step by PC toward more fully integrating technology into our service. There are plans in the works to provide wireless Internet in the office in the (hopefully) near future.

So, to my PCV brethren in other posts, use Moldova as an example to revamp your own lounge and upgrade your Internet service. It means you can call home or other countries with services like Skype for free (or virtually free) and that you won't need to waste time moving files between laptops and lounge desktops or waiting in line for a computer. I've already called a bunch of people in America for 2 cents a minute to any landline or cellphone and for free to another computer with a Skype account. It's fantastic!

Visa - It's Everywhere You Want to Be (Except Russia)

2006-06-02T10:09:00.000+03:00

Have been trying to figure out the whole visa thing for an upcoming vacation to Mongolia via the Trans-Siberian Railway across Russia. And let me just say it's a royal pain in the arse.

The main problem stems from the fact that I will be entering Russia twice - once from Moldova and once from Mongolia. Therefore, one might think I would need a "double-entry" visa. However, I learned from several Internet sites that these double-entry visas are only good for travel between CIS nations (Commonwealth of Independent States, i.e. nations that were formerly part of the USSR), which Mongolia is not. So, do I need to get two single-entry visas? Or, given that I won't really be staying anywhere in Russia save a moving train, could I just get a couple of transit visas, which are good for up to 72 hours and usually used if someone needs to switch between airports on flights passing through Russia?

I thought perhaps these questions might be answered at the Russian Embassy in Chisinau, which only processes visas on Tuesday and Thursday mornings. I was mistaken. First, let me describe the madhouse that is standing outside the gates. There are about 50 Moldovans waiting for various officials to come outside and let them in so they can get Russian passports or other documents. People are yelling and pushing and crying and certainly not listening to the poor Russian official who tells them that they have the wrong document or such and such process only occurs on Mondays after 2pm. It really makes me never want to work in customer service. As an American, I'm supposed to push my way to the front and announce my nationality, after which I get special treatment and am let in ahead of the crowd.

So back to the official... Before he would answer my question about what kind of visa I needed, he kept telling me I needed an invitation. [In order to get a Russian visa, you must first have an invitation from a Russian individual, hotel, or organization. There are many online services that provide this document for a fee.] I explained that I knew I needed an invitation, but have not purchased one yet because I didn't know what kind(s) I needed - double, single, transit, or something else. He said double.

I don't really agree with this. I think he just wanted the more expensive fee that a double-entry visa entails. So, based on the information I've found on several internet sites and replies from various travel experts who I've emailed, I've decided to go with one single-entry visa for the first leg of the trip (because it will be longer that 72 hours allowed by a transit visa) and one transit visa for the second leg. I've ordered the necessary single-entry invitation, and as soon as it arrives I will head back to the Embassy.

I suppose there is some small chance that I'll get stuck in an airport or Mongolia, but isn't that the fun of travel?

Nothing New, Except the Pics

2006-06-02T09:42:00.000+03:00

How's that for an exciting title? Well, it's really the reason I haven't posted in sometime. Now that the big changes are over - moving to a new place, starting a bunch of computer classes, and acquiring my new mode of transportation (bike) - my life has taken on a more scheduled pace. I get up in the morning and study Russian, Gagauz, or for the GMATs; head to the office; teach a computer class or three; ride my bike home; workout; eat dinner and hit the sack. Not a bad modus operandi, though not exactly the stuff for the next Hollywood summer blockbuster.

However, today marked the end of the school year all across Moldova. There are no snow days here - or if school is closed for some reason it does not get tacked on to the end of the year like it does in America. Schools start on September 1 and end on May 31. Period.

I decided to skip the graduation ceremony this morning - once you've seen one ceremony filled local dances and long-winded speeches by officials who only show up to give a speech but actually have nothing to do with the success of a project, you've seen them all. But I did go to the "after-party" with the teachers at the local "campground" for a big picnic.
I busted out my camping hammock, which was a huge favorite, and got to play a little soccer and just chill.

Riding my bike home, I was also able to snap some awesome pictures of the corn fields where everyone - and I mean everyone - is basically weeding by hand until the corn is tall enough to grab all the sunlight.

ps - Craig, now you really have to update your blog.

Call Me Lance

2006-05-22T19:58:00.000+03:00

Since I now live a 30 minute walk from my office, I really need a bike. Making such a purchase in my village isn't possible, so I took a bus to the regional capital and met another similarly-inclined PCV in the bazaar and we went to buy our bikes together.

After trying out a bunch, I settled on a pretty souped up model that is unfortunately a tad too small. There really wasn't anything available with a frame big enough for my lanky 6' body, but with the seat jacked all the way up it gets the job done. There were actually some models that would have been a better fit, but they had only one gear and no hand-brakes - only the old-fashioned "back-pedal" brakes. Despite the fact that I purchased the bike to get places faster, I figured it was more important that I be able to stop than go , so I had to go with the hand-brake model. I don't know about you, but I'd much rather have a car that only went up to 3rd gear than one without any brakes...

Now we enter the part of this entry where I go from reasonable investment to absurd adventure... Knowing that the buses - well, all forms of transportation, really - are very crowded, rather than attempt to bring my new purchase on a bus going back to Copceac I decided to ride it 52km back from Ceadir-Lunga.

I came dressed for a workout and packed plenty of water, a lunch, and some snacks. During the 1.5 hour bus ride to Ceadir-Lunga that morning I drew a rough map of the route so I wouldn't get lost. [It's a pretty simple map because there's rarely more than two (poorly) paved roads, so most of the directions consist of "go straight" or "pass the fields on both your left and right."]

I stopped along the way to snap a few pics, though most of what I saw were people working the fields by hand. I also stopped several times along the way to roll up a spare shirt and stuff it under my butt when I realized that the seat wasn't nearly as comfortable as I thought it was when I bought the bike...

Anyway, the whole trip (including 45 minutes for lunch, a 30 minute detour to get a print out of my last telephone bill, and ultimately being overpowered by gravity on a gigantic hill toward the very end of the trip which forced me to walk the bike) took about 4 hours. Not too shabby.

I rewarded myself with a haircut when I got home - something I probably should have preemptively given myself before the trip to cut down on drag and increase heat dissipation. I stretched, ate, showered, and had no trouble falling asleep that night. All in all, a good adventure and one I see absolutely no need to ever repeat.

Let's Twist Again

2006-05-22T19:56:00.000+03:00

In my English Club, we've lately been listening to lots of popular American songs and trying to figure out what's being said. I write out some of the words to help people along; it looks something like this:

Hey where did we ____
Days when the rains _____
Down in the hollow
Playin a new _______
Laughing and a ________, heye
Skippin and a jumping
In the misty morning fog
With, ah, our ______ a thumpin and you
My brown-eyed _____. You my brown-eyed ____

It's a good time, but last week really took the cake when I busted out Sam Cooke's Twistin' the Night Away. Towards the end of class, though no one wanted to, I managed to get everyone to twist. We all laughed and had a great time.

PS - Interesting Russian word: брак (pronounced "brack") is the word for both marriage and a defective product.

Surfin' Sarfari

2006-05-14T09:06:00.000+03:00

Talk about surreal experience: unpacking in my new place - the second landlocked country in which I've served - while listening to a Beach Boys mix. Just another day in the life...

Hope you enjoy the pictures. We have a real toilet and washing machine - the former doesn't work right now, but the pit out back has a nice view of the garden. I love it. Doing dishes with running water is almost bliss. I finished unpacking around noon, had lunch, and took a little nap. Then I strolled, and strolled, and strolled "into town" from where I live on the outskirts to buy food, hangers, and a surge protector (without any of the protection qualities...) My new mom is leaving sometime this week to work in Germany for several months, leaving me and my 17-year old host brother. Thus far, we get along very well - I gave him some ice cream tonight, which I think sealed the deal. He invited me to go to the local "disco," but I was just too tired to walk another hour roundtrip in order to awkwardly dance with a bunch of high school kids. But it was nice to get the invitation.

Gagauz

2006-05-11T10:33:00.000+03:00

Though Moldova is a small nation - about the size of Maryland - it has many languages. Romanian is now the official language, but virtually everyone knows Russian from this nation's time as part of the Soviet Union. Then there are pockets of Ukrainian and Bulgarian, and in my neck of the woods, Gagauz, a Turkish dialect.

Language is actually a controversial issue - I'd compare it to the strife between English and Spanish in America, but a lot more vigorous. Some favor Russian over Romanian, some go the other way, and some don't even know the other language. In my village, only a handful know Romanian and Gagauz is actually their first language with Russian a close second.

Therefore, I have started learning this Turkish language. PC was kind enough to back me up in this endeavor - meaning they'll pay my tutoring bill. It's a bit of an experiment for them since no PCV has ever learned Gagauz before. I really like it so far - it's grammar is definitely easier compared to Russian, the mother of all prefixes and suffixes. Already I've been able to catch a few words and converse a little with people in their native tongue, and if nothing else it always wins a smile from locals who see that an American is at least trying to adapt to their culture.

Computer Class, Improved

2006-05-10T22:37:00.000+03:00

When a PCV first arrives at site, to put it bluntly he or she has little idea about what the $%*# is going on. After only 3 months of language training, communication is still an issue. Then you're uprooted and dropped in a completely new community with a new host-family and a new workplace. It's almost unheard of that said workplace will have a perfect (or even a semblance of a) workplan drawn up. For the most part, your co-workers don't know what you're capable of or supposed to do and frankly, neither do you. It's important for PCVs to find something that both fills a community need and is something that they like to do and can do well. In my own humble opinion, this takes about 3-6 months to figure out.

Good news: I think I've figured it out. From observations in our schools and offices, I've found that adults and (to a lesser degree) children are severely lacking in computer skills. There are actually fairly decent computers available in my village, but there has never been anyone to teach people what they really need to know - typing, Word, Excel, and Internet. Instead, the schools concentrate on programming language, which I fear at most only 1% of the graduates will actually use. Combine this need with my knowledge and the recently discovered internet cafe in the village (which has only one computer with dial-up, but 8 good computers), and I've got myself a project.

Originally, I was teaching in the school's computer room, but the computers there proved too old and prone to crash to really make the class worthwhile. But at the local internet cafe, things are really humming along. I've held two 1-hour classes there for an 8-person group, all teachers. Next week I'll add another group of 8, and the following week another. There's really no limit to how many of these I could do, and once kids are out of school in the summer this would be a worthwhile thing for them to do. I'm shooting for at least 5 classes.

The course is not free, but I managed to get the typical 5 lei hourly rate down to 3 lei (20 cents) by explaining to the owner that I'm bringing him all kinds of new business - adults. I feel good about pumping money into the local economy, especially a business run so well by its young and knowledgeable owner Vitalik. At the same time it increases the incentive and commitment of my students - they have to pay the entire sum for my 20-hour course up front and basically forfeit the money for any classes they miss. Most if not all can afford this, and if not they can pay in the installment plan.

Volume Control

2006-05-10T22:35:00.000+03:00

Call it a cultural difference between the Gagauz and American cultures. To put it simply, they talk really loudly over here. I'm not quite sure why locals feel compelled to shout when we're standing right next to each other. I used to think it was because my language skills weren't all that great, and they (erroneously) thought that every time I said, "Please, speak more slowly" what I really meant was "I'm almost deaf and can only understand when you speak both louder and faster."

But now that my language and cultural skills are better, I see that it's not just me who's getting my eardrums torn. It's just part of the system here to speak really loudly and emotionally. It's a miracle that not more people have developed nodes on their vocal chords, though come to think of it there are several people I know with very raspy voices...

As American, this can sometimes grate on my psyche. In the US - or at least the parts I frequented - we rarely raise our voices during the workday or even in debates unless we're really angry. So being around people who daily "put it up to 11," requires that I constantly remind myself (a) they're not actually angry at me, (b) I don't need to cow-tow when someone "yells," and (c) it's OK to yell back. Actually, that last part feels pretty good on the rare occasions when I do it. WATCH OUT! IT'S MY WAY OR THE HIGHWAY!

New Digs

2006-05-04T18:08:00.000+03:00

I signed a contract today for my new place and it's great! There's a real washing machine, hot running water, a modern fridge, and I even saw a microwave. I feel a little guilty for taking a place that has all these modern conviences, but I think I've taken enough bucket/bowl showers to truly appreciate them. And besides, a happy volunteer is a productive volunteer - and this will make me very happy.

The family situation there is a bit odd, but it's to my liking. The mother is a widower who works 95% of the year abroad either in Moscow or Germany. She has one grown son who lives and works in Germany and another 15-year old who lives in the house, most of the time alone. So basically it will be me and my new brother. [This is a microcosm of the situation in Moldova where parents work abroad to support families still here, and kids often grow up with grandparents or on their own.]

The only drawback to this place is its location. It is way on the outskirts of the village. Actually, after my house there's just the corn fields that surround the entire village. The walk from my door to the office is about to go from 30 seconds to 30 minutes. But, this should lessen the degree of my fishbowl-like existence as the first and only American to live in Copceac and I don't mind putting a little more forethought into trips to the store or packing lunches like most of my co-workers.

Since I'm not much of a "walker," I'm glad that PC helps PCVs purchase bikes in situations like these. I will soon avail myself of this assistance and be cruising in style (with a PC-mandated helmet, of course, which will probably give plenty of villagers a good laugh). I'm excited to pull into the fast lane and get some exercise on daily rides, just like when I used to ride to and from work in Boston. And year-round there's a daily bus from Bolgrad, Ukraine that passes by my house at 7:45am on it's way to Chisinau, which apparantly I can flag down to get a ride into the village center - helpful in the winter.

I'll post pictures once I move in, probably the last week of May.

Little Easter

2006-05-04T18:07:00.000+03:00

As mentioned previously, Easter in Moldova operates a little differently than it does in America. First of all, Orthodox Easter begins the week after America's Easter, and it runs for about 8 days. On the last day, a Monday, everyone goes to the cemetary to have their food blessed (again) and to have little picnics beside the graves of loved ones. The cemetary is prepared for this, as it is strewn with built-in picnic tables and benches. I rather like the idea - it seems to celebrate the lives of those lost rather than morn over them. And as it is done yearly, Moldovans seem to stay in closer contact with those departed than we do in America. [Or maybe it's just me, but I've never gone to a ceremony outside of a funeral.]

Moving Out

2006-04-27T17:17:00.000+03:00

I had a good chat with my host-mother today about whether I would be staying in her apartment after the PC mandatory 6-month host-family stay. I told her I wanted to look around for other places, but hadn't yet made up my mind about what I wanted to do. As the Moldovan culture is more indirect than American, I was impressed that my mother actually initiated the conversation and honestly and directly answered my questions, like if she wanted me to stay or move out. She said that she agreed to host me for 6 months and that was what she had in mind, and that she thought I would be happier living alone now that I knew my way around the village.

So, while it never feels fantastic to be told by someone that they'd like you to move out - even when done so tactfully - I'm excited to find either a new family (with kids!) or a new pad (maybe with running water or working drains!) And I still feel like our relationship is intact and I would be welcome in this apartment anytime. I have about a month left on my contract, so time to start looking. Rest assured, I'll post with pictures as soon as I find my new digs.

Capitalist vs. Communist

2006-04-26T15:36:00.000+03:00

I've been wanting to write a blog entry for a long time about some of the fundamental differences between the capitalist and communist systems, and the resulting differences that those systems have had upon the mindset of the people of America and Moldova.

But try as I might to explain these complex systems and relationships, it never seemed to come out too clearly. But, then I found my friend Greg's recent entry, which hits the nail on the head. So check it out.

The only thing I would add to Greg's musings is the difficulty in explaining this difference to someone who actually grew up under the communist system. In America, we have this idea that the communist system was nothing more than long lines for bread, misinformation, and lack of freedom. But it was also plenty of wonderful things - free summer camps for children, goods from all over the Soviet Union, health care, and a sense of being part of something bigger than oneself. To show someone who vividly remembers the "highs" (like we all tend to do by fantasizing the "good ol' days") of the communist system that this system had its flaws is difficult to say the least - especially when it comes out of the mouth of the former Cold War enemy who made their system collapse and now parade around the world like wealthy political cowboys. You can see why I usually don't talk about politics over here.

Lopsided Bus and Orthodox Easter

2006-04-26T15:35:00.000+03:00

I was planning to be home in Copceac for Easter, but when I arrived at the bus station to board the one daily bus from the capital to my site, it looked like it really needed some V8 juice - meaning it was leaning way to the side. I took a few pictures of the tires - one on each side of the bus to show how compressed the shocks were on one side compared with the other. Now I've ridden in a lot of shoddy vehicles in my time in the Peace Corps, both in Moldova and Uzbekistan, but this one just rubbed me the wrong way and I really thought it would be a bad decision to risk a roll-over on such a lopsided bus. So, I called PC and told them I would make a slight detour to Cahul via another bus and return to site the following day.

[This is a whole different discussion about the "PC Whereabouts Policy." Basically, PC must always know where PCVs are in case of emergency. Usually we cannot simply inform PC of our plans, but have to ask permission. Some Americans, used to their independence, chaff under these restrictions. I think in general it's a good system, though it could stand a few reforms.]

That change in plans allowed me to attend Orthodox Easter services at the local church - at 3 in the morning. Yep, round these parts most believers fast for the two days before Easter (which occurs the week after Easter in America) and then go to church starting around midnight and the service goes until around sunrise. There are no pews, so people stand and are constantly going in and out of the church while the priests read and chant. Outside, small picnics encircle the church and all wait for the religious authorities to finish their services inside and begin blessing food and water outside.

All in all, it was a good detour.

ps - here's a picture from the American Easter we celebrated in my English Club the week before. Egg toss anyone?

Silage

2006-04-23T17:02:00.000+03:00

I was in the capital for a couple days for the most recent SPA (Small Project Assistance) Committee's meeting. I thought I'd share one of the better projects that was submitted to the Committee so you can get a sense of some of the good works PCVs are doing. This project involves dairy cows. Many Moldovans own 1-2 cows which they keep in a small shed behind their house. The cow is sometimes allowed to graze during the summer and during the winter is fed dried corn stalks - neither or which contain many nutrients. As a consequence, cows in Moldova daily produce an average of 8 liters of milk. Compare this to an average of 40 liters a day in America, where a dairy cow is usually killed if it produces anything less than 20 liters a day.

Why this vast discrepancy? In larger part it has to do with feed. As I learned from one PCV's proposal, the poor nutrients and low quantity of food given to cows results in drastically smaller yields. For many, growing higher quality feed is simply not possible because economies of scale prevent the owner of a single cow from producing what's necessary. But, should several farmers join together in a cooperative, the project should work.

Here's an explanation of just what exactly will be fed to the cows starting in a few months, taken directly from one PCVs SPA application:

This ration system is composed of the following crops: Grass Silage, Corn Silage, Alfalfa Hay, Corn grain, Soy grain, oats and premix. What is silage? Silage is made using a tractor and a machine that chops up either the corn or grass into little pieces about 2 inches long. The machine then blows the bits of grass or corn into a trailer. The trailer is then hauled to a large pit made of either concrete or dug into the ground where it is dumped. At this stage it is possible to add salt, or microbes to help preserve it. Another tractor then drives over the grass or corn, packing it down and pressing all the air out. Then you cover the pile with a cellophane cover to prevent rain from seeping in. You let the pile sit for at least two weeks and it ferments a little. The lack of air prevents it from fermenting too much and stops it from rotting. It will then keep for up to a year, maintaining the nutrient value of the corn or grass as if it were fed fresh to the cows. An additional benefit to feeding silage is that since it is chopped up (especially in the case of corn), cows cannot distinguish between the parts of the plant they like and the parts that are good for them, so they will eat all of it. This means no burning dry corn stocks year round. Due to the fact that you want to minimize the exposure of the grass or corn to the air and elements, it works best if it is done in a big pile, which is why in our program it will be necessary to create the silage communally.

The other elements in the ration are fairly self explanatory. Alfalfa is similar to grass but contains many more nutrients. Corn, Soy and Oats are all grains that are grown here and in the states and harvested dry (as opposed to silage which is harvested with moisture still in the plant). Premix is a something you buy from farm stores. It is a combination of essential vitamins and minerals that aren’t readily available in plants.

Each of these crops has a specific nutritional value. The first and most important category is green matter. This category includes grass silage, corn silage and hay. Grass silage is good because it contains a high level of protein, which everyone knows is critical to building cells. Corn silage is the base of the ration. Corn silage contains a high level of calories, protein and fiber (critical to digestive systems). It also contains a small amount of calcium and other necessary minerals. Though the same energy can be obtained from grains, silage is much cheaper to produce and contains the added benefits of protein, calcium and fiber. Alfalfa hay occupies another important position, it provides a great deal of protein, calcium, fiber and carotene. These three crops; corn silage, grass silage and hay make up the three main pillars of the well balanced dairy ration. The second category is dry feed, or grains. The grains add more raw energy and protein but they cannot be the only feed for cows because they contain a lower quality protein than green matter and they don’t contain enough amino acid which is necessary for cows to digest the grains. Additionally, they don’t contain carotene, vitamins D or C, and contain very little calcium and other microelements. There are three types of grains; grains that are rich in glucose, grains that are rich in protein, and grains that are rich in fat. We have chosen one of each of the following types and adjusted their proportion in the ration to optimize their effect. Oats are rich in protein, but since our cows will get a great deal of protein from grass silage we will feed only 35% oats out of all grains fed. Corn is rich in sugar and plays an important role, thus we will feed 50% corn grain. Soy is rich in fat, also important, but not as critical, so we will feed only 14% of this. The last type of feed is premix; premix contains the rest of the minerals not contained in the previous feed types (kind of like a multivitamin): calcium, phosphorus, magnesium, sodium, chlorine, sulfur, potassium, zinc, iodine, cobalt and iron. Premix only needs to be fed at 5% of the total ration but its use alone can increase production 10 to 15 percent.