"Corner of Heaven" Park Grand Opening

I know you've been sitting at your computers, refreshing and refreshing Wining & Whining, just hoping I would finally tell the story of the completion of the park project I've been working on for a year. Well, today is your lucky day, because here it is! I've been slowly collecting photos of the day (it turns out when you have a park opening, it's easy to be so busy and overwhelmed that you just let everyone else take the pictures - but any in this post without credit are ones I did take), and I think I've found them all now, so here we go... 

The day before our Hram (or "village day" - each village has sort of a patron saint that we celebrate once a year with food, dancing, singing, and other events), the mayor sat down in my office and laid out the schedule for me. I thought for some reason I should trust this schedule, though of course I was out of my mind thinking that, because it did not go as planned. 

What he told me was that something would be happening at the cross near my house at 11 a.m., the park opening would be at 3 p.m., and then there would be trântă (which they couldn't explain), and around 6 p.m. the concert and dancing would start. He invited me to all of those things, and said he would pick me up around 11:00 for the thing at the cross. 

The morning of Hram, I woke up, had a leisurely breakfast, and got ready for the mayor to pick me up. I sort of question the necessity of this, as I've seen this cross and it's maybe two blocks from my house - I can definitely walk that far on my own. But he never comes and it's kind of chilly out so I decide I'll stay in rather than wander over to some event I'm confused about anyway.. Some time after 1:00 he calls and says he'll come now. I get dressed again (as if I'm going to spend hours looking nice when my sweatpants are RIGHT there) and he calls back saying, mmmm actually it might be another half hour or so, we don't want to freeze out there. It doesn't look that cold to me, but I wait another half hour and he shows up to drive me two blocks down the street. 

It turns out that this cross (which was erected some number of months ago; I remember noticing it while out on a walk and thinking it was very nice-looking) was built with the donations of a family from the village - a family of 11 children. ELEVEN. This event was the blessing of said cross, with the Orthodox priest, the mayor, probably all of the eleven, and any villagers that happened to pass by. Most of Moldova is Orthodox, and they put crosses, sometimes very elaborate ones, at intersections in the road to protect travelers from accidents and the like. The priest blessed the cross, the choir sang, and then there were some speeches and presentations of gifts. 

(By this time it's approaching 3:00, so of course my Program Manager and the Country Director are waiting for us at the park, and we are on the edge of the village getting holy water thrown in our faces.) 

One of the 11 pulls out a jug of wine, and since the mayor announced the American's park opening during his speech, the man brings it over to us first and lets the Americans drink (my friend has also arrived from the raion center!) - he tells us, "In America you all get your own glass, but in Moldova we all share one - it's okay because we're all healthy." Okay, cool.. Thanks for letting us go first. Appreciate ya. Then the mayor drives us to the park, where Peace Corps is waiting, talking to the kids.

The kids are apparently in the middle of telling my Program Manager that they know me (I think there was a short reenactment of the penguin dance!) and I am shocked at the sheer number of children that are hanging out outside the park. I don't think I knew we had that many children in the village, even. Sometimes a grand opening is symbolic and whatever is being opened has already been in use for some time, but not our park. It's been under lock and key - so a million children are just looking through the bars of the fence as if they're stuck behind them, which they kind of are. 

The mayor rounds up everyone (which is: a million kids, me and my friend Adrin, my PM, the CD, a woman from the raion center, and a seemingly random collection of a few adults) and we begin our opening. There's a sign with pictures of the process (and my name on it!), a Moldovan flag, and an American flag. We stand at one of the gates, facing all the kids, which is suddenly kind of intimidating. The mayor speaks, the CD speaks with translation from my PM, the woman from the raion speaks and presents us with some sort of certificate, and then I have to speak. 

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani 

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani

So in my 17 months here, I've given "speeches" that I've known about in advance, I've avoided impromptu ones, I've given impromptu ones, and I've suddenly found myself wanting to give them (this category is generally a toast at a masa.. after a glass of wine or two). I've progressed from being told about them and meticulously preparing index cards (okay, I only did that once) to declining to give them, to figuring I'd probably have to give them so I'd better at least prepare mentally, to today.. When I knew I'd have to say something and didn't prepare at all. I didn't know what to say! Of course it's not true that I didn't prepare at all, I thought about it for a while and I had some things in mind, but since I went last, everyone else had already said everything! So I stumbled through some of what I'd thought I would say, and then felt I was doing terribly and speaking awful Romanian, so I just ended with, OKAY GREAT LET'S GO PLAY or something equally horrid. It's even on tape..... So that's cool. 

We cut the ribbon and the kids SWARMED the place. It's not like there was even enough equipment for them all to use, but that didn't seem to make a difference. The opening happened around 3:30 and the kids were still playing when I left the center of the village around 11:00 p.m. - how cute is that! 

Photo courtesy of Adrin Vargas 

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

Photo courtesy of Adrin Vargas

We were then taken around to the back of the building that the park is adjacent to to see the trântă, which means wrestling! This was kind of traumatizing, because though we didn't stay for long, I had to watch my sweet little boys from English class fight each other.. I'm pretty sure I heard that my tiniest one lost a tooth while we were watching. (Although another one of mine won his "division" so I'm proud of him! I'm conflicted about it, obviously.) There were three "divisions" called "Rabbit," "Rooster," and ..I'm unsure of exact translation on the last one, but possibly "Ram." (Just noticed it's alliterative in English, so I'm into that.) I guess these are either weight or age, or possibly both. They were awarded prizes later on that night, and if you guessed that the Rabbit winner's prize was a live rabbit, you'd be right. The Rooster won a live rooster, and guess what, there was also a giant live ram, just handed over to probably a 15-year-old boy. I saw the end of this prize awarding last year and was so confused - took me a year, but now I finally know what I walked in on. (Picture me, walking onstage to find a struggling ram upside-down on the floor and wondering just what I'd gotten myself into in this country.) Regrettably, I did not capture that moment on film, so I'll just have to come back in 20 years for that.

After watching a round or two of trântă, the mayor wanted to take us back to the cross to show my PM and CD, so we went there and the family was still there. They invited us to their house to join their masa, so we did. It was really cool, and one of the bigger masas I'd been to. Our CD gave a toast that was translated, and the family gave a few in both Russian and Romanian that they had translated for the Americans. There was singing and they gave us colac, which is this twisted/braided bread that they present with candles in it for special occasions. 

Then we went to the Primaria so they could see the mayor's office, which was also set up with a masa for later, but we got to eat some right then, because the mayor had to share some of his wife's wine. He boasted that next year if they come again, they'll be able to try wine that I made. He told them that he considers me like another daughter, which was only one of the times I almost cried that day. The mayor even told the story (twice) of how when I first visited before moving here permanently, I cried for two days straight at the thought of having to live here, and then said, "And she doesn't cry anymore." (Well, mostly.) 

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

Our Country Director gave a toast here, too, and it was really special to me. She talked about how just seeing this community for a few hours, she could tell that they love me and are taking good care of me. She said that she could tell that it wasn't just a community, it was a family. I'm thankful to be a part of that family (which I said later that night in my toast at the big Primaria masa, and definitely DID cry for) in my little village. The park has always been called "Corner of Heaven," or, "Colț de Rai." I don't know why my partner named it that, but we stuck with it the whole time. I thought it was kind of cute, kind of silly.. But this week I was riding the bus home from an unexpected, not-so-great trip to Chisinau, and as we neared the village, I looked out the window to see a little bit of sunlight breaking through clouds, the rays shining and looking as much like a corner of heaven as anything could have that day, or any day. I might have cried for two whole days when I first visited my village, but I think it's my Colț de Rai now. I'm part of the village family, and it's this beautiful little place (a "hidden gem," according to Adrin!) that I get to keep living in for the next 8-9 months or so. 

Photo courtesy of Primaria Caplani

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

Photo courtesy of Meredith Dalton

As for the park - as soon as school gets out, the kids head straight there to play. I've seen them playing at the park every day that I've been by. Since the opening, we've planted trees and bushes and everyone in the village seems really proud of it. We do a lot without tangible results, so it's nice to walk by and see the kids playing, and to get to join them (I only fit on the swings.. The merry-go-round and teeter-totter are, um.. A little small) and hang out with my little friends. So I'm really proud of this too! It took a lot of work and collaboration and adapting to craziness and some struggles along the way, but (even though I just talked about tangible results and smiles aren't quite tangible) the smiles on those tiny little faces make all the crazy worth it. Now we've got a little Corner of Heaven in our corner of heaven, in our corner of Moldova, in our corner of the world.