I Moved!!!

Weds Sep 19

I feel I'm really making progress with Romanian. We can communicate with less charades!!

Saturday Sep 16

I am sorry it has taken so long for me to update all of you on my new adventures, location, surroundings, faces, language, blah blah. Well, I say “so long” but I don’t actually think it’s been as long as it feels. I checked into PC staging in D.C. one week ago. Left California ten-ish days ago (the “ish” is for the time change). Moldova, by the way, is ten hours ahead of L.A. Thus, seven hours ahead of D.C.
So much has happened, so much has been crammed into this amount of space that, like the trip to Europe, it feels as if I’ve already been gone for ages. In D.C. I spent every night socializing with my brother and his friends – diverse, vibrant, funny, crazy. Staying up walking around the city I should’ve visited along time ago. Got to see the Souleles’ home in Virginia for the first time! Staging in D.C. was incredible – passionate staff, tangible positive energy, dressing up in business clothes, getting some questions answered and getting antsy to leave. I was totally Miss Talkative - jumpy, smiley Samantha.
I absolutely love the people that are in my training group. Which reminds me: I was going to put together an email list for all 40 of us, but I am one email short for now. It’s such an eclectic group and I’ve yet to experience any unease or awkwardness with any other Volunteer. Oklahoma, Nebraska, Washington, Virginia, California, Oregon, Illinois, New Hampshire, Texas – we’ve got it all, baby. And as I’m sure many of you have guessed, I am definitely the youngest. In fact, even when I have my 21st birthday in December, I believe I will still be the only one under 22, but I might be wrong on that one. The majority seem to be 22-24. A couple 25-27. A few older than that. Two 50+. One gentleman’s son is expecting a child. I suppose this helps me accept not being able to make it to Robby and Corinne’s wedding in December. Obviously I’m not going to be the only Volunteer who will miss events that happen in the States. I watched a home video of a Moldovan wedding today with my new host family – who are fabulous, by the way. Similar, but different traditions. Either I didn’t see the ceremony, or it’s almost entirely based around a reception.
We are all spread out in (5?) different towns now that we’ve moved to our training sites. There are eight other volunteers in my village of 3,000 people. I am not going to list names or specifics about locations. But I am so satisfied. No, not satisfied. Not relieved. Grateful? I’m pleased with the home I am staying in for these next ten weeks. That could likely be due to the fact that they have a green house. We’ve had fresh tomatoes during our lunch and our dinner – just like home. I would say that I’ve never seen redder tomatoes, or sweeter red tomatoes, but most of you know how much I love my dad’s tomatoes. It’s a slice of home…in Moldova…and it wasn’t even planned. Dirt roads, but a washing machine. Running water and an inside toilet (but only in the cold – when it’s hot, we use the outside hole). Now heater, but they have a nine-year-old daughter (perfect for me, no?) and a sixteen year old son. Their aunt and 14 year old cousin (female) stay here on the weekends, and live in the city during the week. Three dogs, one small cat who has two kittens.
Ah, the animals. When staying in the capital city of Chişinău (Kee-shi-now), there were small packs of neglected, stray dogs. They have the scruffy, lowered head, wide-eyed look of dogs who have been neglected and beaten and hungry for their entire life. They chase you when you jog (yes I’ve gone twice now with other volunteers). They howl and bark in the middle of the night. Maybe it’s just my imagination, but Chişinău dogs sound different than Los Angeles dogs – more desperate, perhaps.
And now I’m wondering if this is what homesick feels like. I really just want to listen to my music. Taylor Swift. Michael Bublé. The only English language songs I’ve heard so far are Britney Spears “Everytime,” Shakira, Akon, and some soft-rock something. I called home for the first time since I arrived in Moldova three days ago. And it was very nice to hear my parents’ voices. Very needed. Short but sufficient to get me by for a little bit. I have more people I want to call and talk to, but I can’t understand the phone card instructions – they’re in Romanian – and the semi-English-speaking cousin has gone to sleep. I haven’t cried yet. I actually cried at all since the plane ride home from Dublin. I didn’t cry when I left California. Don’t get me wrong, my eyes have welled up multiple times, sometimes multiple times within the same hour…but no tears have fallen. Sometimes it’s difficult to tell the difference between strength and shock.
The closest that I got to letting a drop fall was when I heard that someone had passed away from an illness he had battled for a while, an illness we ran and trained and raise money to cure. This wasn’t anyone I had met personally, but he has subsequently inspired others who have inspired me. I am here in Moldova partly because of the lessons I have learned from those people. Being part of the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training program was more significant than I’ve ever been able to articulate to my coaches, mentor, or fellow runners. There is a lot of self-searching involved in the decision to join, let alone in the service itself. But, being surrounded by people who work tirelessly for an end they might never witness in their lifetime – for people they may never know – is inspiring. It takes a special kind of person. They may not be running in Moldova, but they run through my mind regularly. So, Team in Training and Peace Corps are significantly related.
And thank you to those of you who didn’t want me to leave. I’m not asking you to cry for me, but I can’t deny that it helps me feel as if I actually might belong in some influential place in the world. Thank you to the gymnasts who cried at my departure (and then at my subsequent good-byes). Of course I cannot judge my influence in Moldova by the number of children that cry when I leave, but the idea is that we each have the potential to make an impact. We’ve been told that our impact is not always visible economically or in the structure of the town, but often by the number of people who know our name, ask for our advise, remember what we’ve shown them, and want us to stay. It meant worlds to me that I was able to go to Lauren’s Bat Mitzvah the Saturday before I left. While her parents were intent on making sure I knew how glad they were that I made it, I feel I didn’t adequately express how much it meant to ME to be part of that before I left. It makes it more difficult to separate yourself but it also makes you feel loved, respected, and, most importantly, READY.
And now I’m here. And it’s 1:30 in the morning. Tomorrow the community is celebrating the arrival of the nine of us, along with the two Language and Cross Cultural Facilitators who are staying in the village as well. So, off I go, to cross the cold floor of the house to use the indoor toilet and wash my face in the sink with running water, next to the washing machine (with no dryer, Kat!), and then I will practice a few ukulele chords because I’ve pretty much promised to play SOMETHING, ANYTHING at the Thanksgiving talent show. And, you know….it’s cool. And, no, we don’t get American holidays off. But as a group, all current and new volunteers/staff get together to celebrate Thanksgiving. But Christmas is after the New Year in the Orthodox system.
I was impressed with the emphasis placed on cross cultural exchange in the Peace Corps mission. We are explicitly expected to share cultures simply for the sake of sharing cultures, to help international understanding and respect between Americans and other peoples. It’s fabulous. I knew I liked this organization. The three goals are: to meet the requested needs of other countries for trained men and women (of course), to help other people gain a better understanding of Americans, and for Americans to gain a better understanding of other peoples.
Considering I’ve practically written a novel, I’ll finish this letter. I have a headache, either from wearing my glasses every day, staring at my computer, or (more likely) from trying to understand a language I don’t know.
Noapte Bună! Good night!