Something of Impact

At our Close of Service Conference, we were supposed to prepare something for the "Something of Impact" session, where we all talked about how awesome Peace Corps was something impactful from our service. It could be anything. It WAS anything. 

I did not share. 

I had this prepared forever in advance, had written notes in my journal (which I carried to each session) so I wouldn't forget anything, and we had already placed bets on how many times I'd cry. But everyone said such great things - I laughed, I cried, I was inspired. So I thought, yeah, I can't do this. My natural "emotional basketcase" state plus a mountain of insecurity at the time just led to my sitting there listening to everyone else talk. Luckily I have a bunch of amazing supporters on my team, who said they still want to hear what I had to say. So here it is. 

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I can, with relative confidence, walk the mile or so from the bus stop to my house on a moonless night.

You're probably thinking, okay... great job, Cat. How is that Something of Impact? 

My site is a small village that's three hours from Chisinau on a good day. We don't really have paved roads, and we have about 4 streetlights (and 3 of them are right next to each other). When I first arrived, my host mom made a big deal about the fact that there was a streetlight outside our house. I eventually realized that it was literally on just for me. Someone was paying to have that streetlight on because the volunteer, the American, lived there. 

So when I first got to the village, if I returned to site at night (which I tended to do, due to bus schedules), I would have a few streetlights, hopefully a moon to light the way, and my flashlight (or, more accurately, the light on my phone). And I knew I was getting close because I had the streetlight in front of my house to guide me. In other words, I had a lot of help making my way through the village. 

The road isn't terrible, but if you don't know it, it can be a little treacherous. There are holes to avoid. It's uneven. If it's rained, there are perfect places to step so you don't get as muddy. (The American is not good at finding these perfect places.) You never want to step directly where the cows have traveled on their way home.. 

Maybe you see where I'm going with this. In the beginning of my Peace Corps service, I needed a lot of help. I had my village looking out for me (with the streetlight at my house), I had my program staff, cohort, and people back home helping me out (maybe they're the rest of the streetlights), and I was trying to make it on my own (with my phone to light the way). It was really hard at first. I might trip, or make mistakes. Dogs would come out and scare me, or I would get homesick. Even if I tried to do everything right and not step where I shouldn't, some unforeseen obstacle would come out of nowhere and upset me or make me fall. It was really frustrating at times, especially when I would leave for a weekend and come back to new holes in the ground to avoid. 

But it got easier. The road got renovated a little, and I started to get used to the life I was living in my village and in Peace Corps. I felt a little more sure of myself. I cried less. I had successful projects, and English classes, and trainings, and I was helping other PCVs. I became more comfortable in the work I was doing and the way I felt about it. I could speak Romanian. I felt relatively accomplished (most days). I knew which dogs had a bark worse than their bite and which ones were just curious about the American walking by. They turned off the streetlight, and I was okay. 

Now I can walk from the bus stop to my house on a moonless night. That maybe doesn't sound so impressive to you. But without streetlights or natural light to show the way, most of the walk is completely dark. I'm doing this on my own, and I think I'm good at it. People don't keep lights on in their houses; cars don't drive by to shine headlights for a little while. But I'm used to it. I know where to step, I know what to do. 

I don't need to make such an effort to keep myself from falling.

Sure, there is still opportunity for me to slip up. A flash of something in the road that isn't normally there; being told I have to run important meetings using a bunch of vocabulary I'm unsure of. An animal might appear suddenly; I might have an unforeseen complication with a grant. But there are still a few streetlights and at least I know where I'm going.

And on those nights when it's completely dark and I'm making my way slowly through the journey, I've got you guys. I've got all these beautiful stars, these constellations, some of which I know like the back of my hand and that I know I'll be seeing for all of my life, that make the whole trip worth it.

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Love to you, M29, my moon and my stars. You turn the darkest night into a breathtaking masterpiece. We've come so far, and I'm forever grateful that you've been there for me this whole time (whether you're still here or whether you've already gone). We did it! Vă iubesc, și mi-e dor de voi deja. 

I Never Knew

All it takes to make you think, man, what did I know? is trying to think about things you never knew. 

So what didn't I know before I came to Moldova? 

Well first of all, I'll need to admit that I had never heard of Moldova. Neither had a lot of people I know, so my go-to answer was "It's right by Ukraine." (In retrospect, I should have said, "It's right by Romania," because telling people it was right by Ukraine, even though that's literally where I ended up being placed, made them worry unnecessarily and even say, mmmm yeah you probably shouldn't go there. But I was obviously trying to be cool and dangerous, duhhhh.) 

After reading this prompt, I've spent the last couple of days thinking about all the things I never knew before I came here. Misconceptions, interesting facts, superstitions.. And it's interesting, because even some of the traditions and superstitions I've learned in my village are things my fellow volunteers have never heard of. So not all of these will even end up being true for all of Moldova, but I'm going to try to list some things I didn't know a year and a half ago. Some will really be things about Moldova, but others might end up being about myself.. We'll just have to see. 

I never knew...

• That a village can run out of something for days. Right now, snowed in, we're out of bread. And when I say we, I mean the whole village. Recently I wanted to bake something with milk, so I went to one of the stores. "No," the woman said when I asked if she had any. "The milk car won't come for another two days." So I went to the next store and she told me the same thing (of course, they would have the same supplier! Why hadn't I thought of that?). I asked about other stores and she looked at me like I had lost my mind. "No, I told you, it doesn't come until Wednesday." Then I had the audacity to ask for another dairy product.. Nope. She said to me, "Just have your host mom call someone who has a cow." Oh, of course. 
• That I would be able to have discussions at work in Romanian about topics I never could have talked about in English before.. Today the mayor and I discussed renting a tractor and the process of digging underground and installing pipelines to carry water through to the center of the village. Yeah, that's my latest project. What? I didn't really expect that I'd be able to communicate as well as I have in another language. I didn't think I'd be bad at it, but sometimes my level of understanding astounds me. I definitely have days where I feel like I've forgotten everything I learned, but I have really good language days, too. 
• That I'd take so many selfies.
  
  
• That I would simultaneously learn to love solitude and want so badly to be around people. 
• That I would have a favorite type of plăcintă. I was offered some by my mentor on our second day here and, having never heard of it, I panicked and thought she said "placenta" - I have to eat that?! Luckily it's plăcintă, it's a pastry filled with something either sweet or savory, it's delicious, and my host mom makes the greatest kind ever. 
  
  
• That finding a bay leaf in my soup meant I was going to get a letter. (This superstition has never quite been proven..) 
• That sitting on the floor/ground or walking around barefoot/with improper footwear would cause my ovaries to freeze and prevent me from having children. (Also not proven.)
• How to make wine - even now, I'm sure I couldn't do it all on my own, but I've definitely worked through the whole process.
• That my "friends" in the village would be 11-year-olds or middle-aged women, and virtually no one in between. And also the mayor. Definitely never knew I'd consider the mayor of a tiny village in Moldova to be my BFF. 
  
  
• I'd be able to navigate life in another country by myself for this long, starting at zero language and really zero knowledge of anything about this place. 
• That chickpeas signal the end of a masa in the southeast region of Moldova. 
• That I'd wish, on a regular basis, that I could experience life in this village when it was part of the Soviet Union, just for a day. Everything they tell me about life then.. I don't know, I just know the village would look completely different. 
• What true loneliness is. 
• The art of making a care package last practically forever - my self-control is off the charts now. 
• What I'd become so passionate about.
• About any of the people or places that I now can't imagine life without. I never knew I could fall in love with so many of the people I've met and experiences I've had and places I've been in such a short time.
  

That list only makes a dent in my time here - the things I've learned, the things I've done.. I didn't think I'd be asked to be a translator for conferences, or that I'd be interested in the lives of random old ladies that I've only met a few times, or that I'd practically want to be adopted by my training host family. I didn't know I'd have any fun teaching kids English or be able to assert myself in an office full of outspoken Moldovan women. I didn't know I'd be included in so many cultural events and experiences that are sometimes unique to village life, and I didn't know that the community would end up feeling more like home and more like a family than I thought it would. The mayor will probably tell the story for years about the American girl who saw the village she had to live in and cried for two days straight, but then he'll probably have a similar story when I leave this summer. So, it turns out there's a lot I didn't know. 

This is part of the Blogging Abroad Blog Challenge!

10 Questions About My Peace Corps Life

“I love you. I'm proud of you. Now go write me another blog; I want to read a new one.”

Okay, Mother. So bossy. This is what she said to me as I headed to security to get on the first plane on my trip back to Moldova. (Which, if you're wondering, was probably just as hard or harder than it was to leave the first time. I had too good a time at home with everyone! Although the first time I thought I wouldn't see anyone for over two years, and this time we all knew it'd be just one more, so at least there's that.)

Since my demanding mother requested another blog but I don't have too much to write about at the moment, it's a good thing my sweet friend Sara (probably the nicest person in Peace Corps Moldova) gave me a bunch of great questions to answer. She nominated me for the Liebster Award, which is a blogging thing that helps you get to know your fellow bloggers. There are rules about nominating other people and creating your own set of questions for them, but I've always been a rulebreaker (just kidding – we all know I follow the rules) so I'm just going to answer her questions, with the excuse that hers are so great I couldn't possibly come up with anything better. But thank you, Sara, for thinking of me! (Also, excellent answers to the questions YOU got, and now I want to know your answers to these!)

1. How many different countries have you traveled to and where?
While in Peace Corps, I've traveled to the Czech Republic (Prague) and to Italy (Rome and Naples). I've also spent some time in Romania, but that was more of a struggle than a vacation. (And to the United States, I guess!) Prior to Peace Corps I lived in Germany so I got to go to all sorts of places – France, England, Spain, Austria, Switzerland, Italy, Liechtenstein, Gibraltar.. Maybe even some I'm forgetting.

2. What food item do you miss the most?
When I was just at home, I found myself drinking a lot of Dr. Pepper, which I hadn't realized I missed but man, it's good! And tacos, made by my mother. I miss any kind of food that isn't potatoes, really. Mint chocolate chip ice cream, ohhh.. That's what I want right now. 

3. Favorite book (or article) you have read so far since being a PCV?
I've done so much reading here that this is a tough question. Definitely the most meaningful to me at the time I read it would be Divergent by Veronica Roth. You know when you read the perfect book at the perfect time? That was one of those. I also loved Manuscript Found in Accra by Paulo Coelho and Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking by Susan Cain. The former with great advice about life and love and the latter basically describing my life.

4. Favorite item you are glad you brought with you?
It's almost painful to say this now when I feel like I'm actually melting in the heat (I know, I know, I'm not serving in Africa) but my favorite thing I brought is my fuzzy Vera Bradley house robe that I wear 24/7 when it's cool/cold outside. I've forgotten what that feels like but I imagine it will happen again someday.

5. What is your favorite thing about the country you serve in?
I think my favorite thing about Moldova is just how kind strangers can be. While I don't think this is specific to Moldova (it shouldn't be!) I find that it's easier to notice here because maybe I need it more here, what with language struggles and unfamiliar surroundings. Most notably with transportation issues. It's occasionally difficult to get from one place to the next, but you'll always find someone to help you – not just tell you where to go, but sometimes they'll even take you there. Recently I was with two friends and we were on the side of the road attempting to catch a bus going north. So was this other man. He could have taken any bus that we could have, but he stopped one for us, put us on it, told the driver where we needed to go, and then didn't even get on! He waited for the next one after making sure that we were on our way. I've been picked up by strangers that somehow knew my bus wasn't going to come and directed by others when I just look like I don't know where I'm going. I used to worry about making it to places on my own, but I'm never completely alone in the world and I know I'll always eventually get there, perhaps with some extra help from a kind Moldovan. 

6. If you could choose between hot summers and cold winters, which would you choose?
You're asking me this question when I'm hot at my house and at work and outside and everywhere..... Which makes my answer cold winters. I know I would regret saying that if I were answering this during winter, but at least in winter there's variety sometimes – when it's super cold outside you can bundle up inside next to the soba for warmth. Plus, cute sweaters.

7. Favorite food from your country of service?
Don't tell her I said this, but my host mom's plăcintă ghițmane. It may be her only great skill in the kitchen, but it's miles above any other kind of plăcintă I've had. If I don't come home knowing how to make it, I'll consider my Peace Corps service a failure. (Kidding, sort of.)

8. From your experience, where is the best place to travel to?
You're all going to be SO shocked when I say: Italy. Wait, you're not shocked? Weird. I've been there 4 times and my mother assumes it will be part of my as-yet-unplanned COS trip (“Knowing you, you'll stop in Italy on the way home.”). It's just my favorite place. It's not even one specific city – I would probably rank my favorites (Florence, Rome, Cinque Terre) but I love them all. If I didn't hate being away from home I'd have to try to live there next. As it stands, I'll just have to marry rich and we can travel there together later. You can start lining up now – I'm good at baking cookies (and look super cute in an apron) and I know how to feed farm animals - is that helpful? 

9. If you could choose between the public transportation in your country of service or walking, which do you prefer?
Walking, definitely. I enjoy walking, most of the time. The last time I ride a rutiera won't come soon enough, and I'll often choose walking over the slightly better public transportation in the capital. In the summer they're unbearably hot and rarely will you be lucky enough to have a crowd that allows the windows to be left open, and in the winter I'm terrified that they will crash if there is snow or ice (which there is). In any season there are too many people on the bus and I don't think I've ever gotten to sit next to someone that wasn't obnoxious. But I'm whining so I will say that if you have a long trip, it's great for books on tape or podcasts or bonding or a nap, perhaps. It's possibly unwise to nap on a bus when you're by yourself, so officially I never do this, but I'm just saying, 3 hours is a long time.

10. If you could describe your Peace Corps service in one word, what would it be?

Love. 

A Year of Days

"Un an de zile."

"A year of days."

That's what I hear, all the time. If someone in my village wants to say "a year" they never say "a year." They always say "a year of days." This also works for "a month of days" or "two years of days." 

At first I was confused. Why are they saying a year of days? Of course it's a year of days; what else would it be? Just say a year! When I eventually realized what they were saying, I was, of course, surprised that it took me so long. I asked a language teacher if this was a saying or if they were all just crazy, and she thought for a minute and said something like, oh you know I guess I say that too. I didn't realize. I think it's just because "un an" is so short.

I've been in Moldova for a year of days now. Our "anniversary" of stepping off the plane was over a week ago. It blows my mind, really. I don't know how that could be right. Yes, it feels like it's been forever, but hasn't it just been a couple months? Nope. It's been 12. A year of months, a year of days, a year of hours, a year of minutes. 

I wasn't planning to write a post about being here for a year but then I was hanging out with my best friend yesterday, AKA my journal.. And it turned out that I had some stuff to say. I'm not a fan of sharing my journal. I've read a passage of it to one person, once. I've casually shown someone a picture from it. I might post an Instagram photo of a quote I've written inside. But it's for me. And for the future. I don't start entries with "Dear Diary," because I'm not a character in a Judy Blume novel. I don't start them with anything, actually, but I write them as if I'm writing to my grandchildren (who don't exist at the moment, obviously). I just like to think that one day they'll be hanging out at their favorite grandma's house and they'll find these old journals in the attic and say, "Bunicuță! What are these?! Can we read them??" My grandchildren apparently know Romanian in this scenario, so.. There's that. 

As none of you reading this now are lucky enough to be my grandchildren, I'll just share a few of my thoughts from my journal on being here a year. 

So what's happened in a year? Where do I even begin? I went from daily tears to sporadic crying. I met new, lifelong friends. I lost a few along the way. I've traveled to new and old countries and had my life changed in at least one of them. I've met soulmates, American, Moldovan, and otherwise. 
I've learned to like instant coffee but still remember the magic of coffee makers. I've had to appreciate the tiniest things and I think I've gotten pretty good at that. 
I've learned that it's not in me to not give, to not share my whole heart. Does this make me like my mother? Am I turning into her in Moldova? No surprise there. I've continued to want to take care of everyone, only now more so because after a year I need a little less taking care of. 
I've learned to stand up for myself and be assertive - in 2 languages. Just within the last few months, I've felt myself becoming more confident and sure of myself, and consequently more sure of my relationships with others - turns out if you feel better about yourself, you'll feel better about the way other people feel about you - or don't. Because if they don't, so what? 
I've found a rhythm, a routine. I don't get stressed/freaked about the small stuff - missed the bus? Okay, I'll just reschedule every meeting. But I won't cry about it. 
I'm thinking in and using different languages, but one of them is still love. Do I love everyone? Oh, yes. Without a doubt. (It's my mother again!) 
I want to remember everything. I know I can't. I try to take lots of pictures to help. 
I'm an expert on going with the flow and a - what's higher than expert? I'm that on understanding people in languages I don't read or speak - language, who needs it?! Finding out how very true that is. Am I speaking the language of the world? Yeah, I'm also reading a lot of Paulo Coelho. How can you tell? I'm reading a lot in general. It makes my life better, my conversations richer, my heart happier. 
I take more selfies. What? You went to the Peace Corps and got more self-centered? No. Two reasons. 1. When you're alone and you want to take a picture, selfie is your option. And I'm alone a lot. 2. I like myself more. Yeah I'll take a picture of myself, because I'm AWESOME. I can even look at rare selfies from a year ago and see how unsure of myself I was. But now? Oh, you've got a camera? Let me just reapply my lipstick and I'll be right over. 

I don't know how much I've changed my community but I can sure say that Peace Corps has changed me so far. And we're just halfway in. 

June 4, 2014

June 4, 2015

So there's photographic proof of what a year of days can do. A year of days and I'm a year of days different.. But still a year of days amazing, and still me. 

Roman Holiday

Sometimes you go somewhere or you meet someone or something happens that makes you think, this is exactly where I'm supposed to be (or who I'm supposed to meet, or what was supposed to happen). Sometimes all of that happens at the same time. 

Maybe you're thinking, okay but what are you talking about? I read the title of this post, aren't you just going to recap your trip to Italy with your friends? I can do that, if you'd like. But this trip turned out to be more than just going to the Colosseum 14 times (that's not even MUCH of an exaggeration; it was at least 7), or eating 5 scoops of gelato in 2 hours, or getting fast food lasagna (yeah, that's a thing), or having a different unofficial tour guide for each day (I was even one of them - how do you like me now, Goolsby). I guess maybe I'll get to that.

I went to Italy with two of my favorite PCVs. 

Was it part of my plan? No. 
When it came up in conversation, did I even think the invitation was serious? No. 
When it turned out to be serious, did I immediately think, wow this is the greatest idea you've ever had? No. 
Was it the greatest idea? Absolutely. 

I feel myself getting into soul-searching territory again, sorry. I'll get back to the narrative. 

We spent the first night in Rome, which ended up with us crashing a girl's 21st birthday party bus. Yeah, you read that right. Bartender on the bus, lots of woo girls, strobe lights, spring breakers (way to make us feel old, guys, because guess what, we aren't) and a few stops at different places in the city. That brought us to our first Colosseum stop, which was pretty much the main reason the party bus was worth going on. It was awesome to see at night. 

The night day we took a train to Naples. We spent two days there, walking around, taking Giovanni's suggestions, visiting churches, wandering around underground (maybe wandering is misleading.. There was a tour guide), drinking coffee and eating gelato and pizza, reading on the terrace of our third floor hostel, getting slightly lost, visiting the beautiful sea, making our own dinner (with lettuce! LETTUCE), and relaxing at night with about 18 decks of cards (none of which had the necessary 52) and our journals. 

We returned to Rome on Saturday and met some friends one of us knew from studying abroad. They took us around to different places and knew all about them, which was great! They unknowingly brought us to places on our list that we would not have been able to find on our own but that we were quite glad to get to see, and places that weren't on our list that were cool! They were very sweet and it was nice to meet them. We went back to the hostel and met our roommate, a sweetheart from Argentina who was our age and on his first trip out of the country. We went out for a drink with him and got to know him a little bit, and then he returned to the room and we stayed out a little later at the hostel bar, where we met some other cool people. That's when we got to cross "dancing" off our list, among other things. 

We went to the Pantheon the next day, and spent a great deal of time trying to figure out how to properly describe it, knowing the perfect word existed, but not finding it. Putting that thought on hold, we met up with some of the people from the night before who gave us another tour, also great. Everyone you meet knows different things. That's super simple; somebody knows one fact about the Colosseum (yeah, we're at trip #3 now I think) and another person knows another one.. But on a larger scale, doesn't everybody you meet have something new to teach you? That must be some quote that already exists. (If you read my blogs for my constant eloquence, you may as well quit now.) Later the three of us met up with our roommate again, and taught him very important things, like the word "cumbersome" and how to play beer pong.

Monday we had a great day with our roommate, despite the rain. We went to Vatican City, but rain + super long lines meant we didn't end up going in. Instead we wandered around to other places (the Pantheon again, a gelato place with 150+ flavors, etc.). During the afternoon, the girls had journal time while the boys napped, and we met up again to have Mexican and walk around the city at night. We visited St. Peter's again without crowds and with all the lights on, and it was beautiful. We got a tip from one of the study abroad friends that the Colosseum was lit up with green for St. Patrick's Day, so we went there again, and that was amazing, too. It was one of the best nights (well, one of the best full days, really) that I've had in a really long time. That word we were trying to describe the Pantheon with? Our roommate, not knowing that we were trying to do so, independently tried to explain it in Spanish, and came up with exactly the word we needed. We decided that it's better in Spanish, so now we all use the word imponente. If that's not fate, I don't know what is. How could we possibly be all looking for the same thing, and then meet each other and help each other find it? Again, that's simple, just one word.. But think about that concept being even more than that. 

On our last full day, our roommate had left and the three of us spent the day solo. I did things I had skipped so far on this trip and my last trip to Rome (Audrey's Mouth of Truth, to be specific), and after getting lost and found again, sat in front of the Pantheon with wine, a huge cheese plate, and my journal. Later we met up again with various friends and there was more pasta, drinks, and dancing. The next morning we split up again and I went back to a church we'd visited a few days ago, where I got to do a little more soul-searching that I won't talk about here. Eventually it was time to return to Moldova, and it was strange, because I was both sad to leave Italy but happy to return to Moldova. It's not always easy to return to site after time away, but for the first time, not only was I not dreading it, but I was happy about it, too. 

I guess after writing the recap, I find that I don't want to go into anything super existential or anything. Here's what I will say: I remember the first time I went to Rome and what an impact it had on me, and I didn't think the same city and the same sites could do that again, but it did, even more so. I learned more about my friends and I can tell you my favorite things about each one of them. We got to have conversations in multiple languages at a time and that's how we understood better, not worse (I can't imagine now what people do if they only know one, and I'm not even saying I know two, but I know a little bit of many). How often do you get to meet people and feel like you were meant to meet them, meant to be there at that moment with those people? I have a new outlook on life, love, and the future, and I don't know what it all means, or if I'll even figure it all out.. But I'm excited to try. Essentially, I'm just really glad I went on this trip with these friends and had all these adventures. Whatever happens after this.. Well, we'll just see. 

One slight addition: I just saw on the "Humans of Chisinau" Facebook page this quote by a woman (which I think is better in Romanian so I'll put that and their  English translation): 

"Întâlnim diferite fenomene, oameni, pentru care trăim anumite stări şi care ulterior se transformă într-o eleganţă a cuvintelor, care se numeşte poezie.

**
We encounter different phenomena, people, towards which arouse certain feelings in us, feelings which often create a certain elegance of words called poetry."

If that doesn't perfectly describe life, I don't know what does.

Unpredictable PCV Cycle

One of the (I'm struggling with a truly appropriate adjective here) interesting terrifying complicated things about the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer is that it's unpredictable. I don't just mean that we don't know when we're going to walk into a surprise masa, what personal questions a stranger will ask us, what we'll be sitting next to on a rutiera (or if your rutiera will get pulled over by the police, which is what's currently happening as I write this), or when our stroll through the fields will have to be rerouted because suddenly, oh hi, there are all the village cows! (No, seriously. All of them.) Though it's definitely impossible to predict those things (except that we can pretty much guarantee the stranger's personal questions will be about our love lives), it's even more surprising to not know what is going to be happening in your head and your heart on a daily basis. 

It makes sense to go through periods of different emotional states, and it makes sense when they sort of go together. For instance, it's logical to me that when the sun is coming out and sticking around for days, I'm more likely to be in a good mood. When I haven't left site in more than a month, it's safe to assume that I'll be a bit lonely. When I'm around many PCVs for an extended period of time, like at a training or something, I can guess that I'll have some time where I'm overwhelmed at all the social interaction. 

We've got this Cycle of Vulnerability and Adjustment that has predictors like this for your whole service. For example, during the first 2 months, you'll likely be fatigued, overwhelmed, feeling helpless. During months 11-14, you'll be establishing a routine, feeling more competent, etc. That's great and all, but what about when you go through the whole cycle in 27 minutes instead of 27 months? Sure, that's a slight exaggeration (I'm nothing if not hyperbolic, right?), but it's almost absurd how close our good days and bad days can be. 

I'm even aware that I'm not alone in this, because I know that multiple volunteers have talked about having one of their best days and then suddenly one of their worst. 

A few weeks ago, I had a week that started off so strong. I considered that Monday one of the best days of my service at that point, and I was feeling really proud of myself and confident in my abilities for all sorts of things. And then that Friday evening and Saturday were some of my worst moments of service so far. How can things change so quickly and without warning? I know, things can change that quickly anywhere, but it feels like such a ridiculous range here sometimes. 

Two days ago I couldn't get out of bed—I couldn't even think straight, I felt so terrible. That was physical rather than emotional, and I'm fine now, but it was such a bad day. Then the next day was fantastic. I spent hours in a coffee shop with two of my favorite people, collaborating on grant applications and drinking coffee and planning our vacation. (All of which are exciting things, although, Moldova could get on its coffee game a little more if they would sell iced drinks year round.. I'm just saying. I can't be the only one who would love an iced coffee in February.) So I thought, cool, things are great. Had a nice dinner and evening with games, a movie, and even a surprise FaceTime from my grandma, aunt and uncle. Logically, that good place will continue, right? Do you even remember what I've said already? Haven't you been paying attention? No, of course it won't continue. Because you'll have a good day and then that night you won't be able to sleep, and you'll wake up and not want to talk to anyone, and you'll spend the day trying to be sociable and pleasant but you'll get exhausted and just cry in the dark on the rutiera for half your ride home that night (which is a feat in itself when you're traveling two and a half hours back to site). And obviously you don't know why you feel like this, and it's likely nobody's fault, which also sucks, because wouldn't it be nice to have someone to blame? 

Which days are going to be the ones where your biggest accomplishment is boiling water? What about the ones where just saying good morning to someone seems like the hardest thing? Or the ones where you want to pretend you're not hungry so you don't have to sit at the dinner table and talk to your host mom? And then which are the days when all it takes is sunlight to put you in the best mood? What about the days when a village kid will walk you home and smile up at you the whole time, thinking you're the greatest thing? Or the ones when you think, oh yeah, I can save the world today! 

I don't know which is which and I just don't understand why today it's one over the other, and I don't think I'm very good at some of those days. Just have to hope that if I'm on a really bad one, a great one is soon to follow. That's how it works, right? This emotional rollercoaster toughest job I'll ever love? 

I wrote this post while I was on the rutiera back to site, and my last paragraph was not this one that you're reading. It was about how I wanted to end on a positive note, but I couldn't quite do that. Four hours ago when I wrote this, I was trying, but all I could come up with was that I hope that there's a positive note coming for me. And you're not reading that paragraph because there was. I got back to my room and had 6 texts from my best friend, who wanted to Skype with me (which we hadn't done in about.. forever). Talking to her for almost two hours—there's my positive note. We didn't even talk about all of this and I feel better. So even when you have your bad days, just wait. The day might not be quite over yet and something else can always happen. I'm struggling through some bad days, but there's often at least something to redeem them. Such is the life of a Peace Corps Volunteer. 

This is your brain. This is your brain on Peace Corps.

I spent November being intentional in thinking about the things in my life that I'm grateful for. But if I'm being honest, it didn't require a whole lot of thought on my part. Each day, something would happen and I would record it in my draft for the weekly post. I never sat down and thought about it at length. 

I don't speak out loud very much. It's difficult when you don't speak the same language as your coworkers and the people you live with, but it's not impossible. It's not that I don't say anything, it's just that I don't say much. I never thought about fluency in a language being a luxury, but, oh, how it is. I can absolutely communicate basic thoughts and I'm not completely lost all the time with getting around and living my life here, but I'm not able to connect with anyone on more than a basic level. 

In a book review for The Other Language by Francesca Marciano (which I have not read), the reviewer says about the book: "Yet she discovers, first as an adolescent and then as an adult, that fluency in a language doesn't guarantee her yearnings will be heard, much less understood." True, but not altogether comforting.

With all of that and with the amount of time I spend alone (most of my time), I have a lot of time to think. But I don't use my time to think. Sure, I'm introspective and I question things and journal and I spend a lot of time in my own head. But I just spent this weekend with other PCVs and for the last few days, I haven't been able to stop thinking. 

It's hard to describe what's going through my head because I can't even pin it all down; it's so varied. But here I am trying.

I'm thinking about the future. What I want in life, what I don't want, what I hope to have eventually but not anytime soon. I'm thinking about the present. What I want to do, what I am doing, what life is like. I'm thinking about the past and how somehow, all the choices I made have led me to this moment and this adventure. I don't know if everything happens for a reason but I know some things do and I've got to be here for a reason. 

I'm thinking about my Peace Corps family. I'm thinking about how you can enjoy time with so many different kinds of people who have such different life experiences, and how they can turn your world upside down just by showing you a different point of view or by saying something to you that they didn't even know would have such an impact. Maybe they'll never know. 

I'm thinking about how you can meet someone "new" at every event, because every gathering of people is a slightly different mix. The perfect mix. A beautiful mix.
You can vaguely know who someone is, speak to them at length for the first time Friday, and pull an all-nighter with them Saturday only to fall asleep with them on the couch Sunday morning. 
You can pinky promise someone to be their best friend and not have any doubt that you both mean it. 
You can dance with someone and cook with someone and play cards with someone while someone else carves a turkey in the next room. 
You can plan events with people in all the languages you know (or try to know) and laugh about how ridiculous it all is instead of getting frustrated with how difficult it is.
You can have someone look into your eyes while they're talking to you and just feel that they're getting to you all the way down in your heart and soul. 
You can get lost with someone and not even care because you're with them whether you know where you are or not. 
You can have a conversation that starts with politics and elections and ends up with a link to a multilingual version of "Let it Go." 
You can find people who inspire you and people to look up to - people who might be younger or older than you, but that make you want to say, "I want to be her when I grow up." 
You can tell someone how you really feel and not worry that they will judge you or tell the whole country all your thoughts. 
You can count on someone to tell you the Packer score (we're ahead, hopefully) and someone else to be confused about why you're a Packer fan from Virginia. 
You can have a friendship that started day one with banana bread flavored beer that you'll never stop talking about. 
You can miss the people who have had to leave, and you will.
You can only hope that people are okay with the hugs you give that are probably too long for real life but that you want to prolong because of your lack of friendly human contact. 
You can fall in love with the people in your program, the people in your part of the country, the people you just want to fall in love with. 

I'm thinking about how I can look around at a room full of PCVs and feel like I'm at home with these people I didn't even know existed 6 months ago. I'm thinking about how 6 months ago we were literally strangers, and now I can't imagine life without them. There are some that I absolutely do not want to have to do life without, and I feel like I know who some of them are at just 6 months in. I feel like I knew who some of them were at 6 weeks, or 6 days. Is 6 hours pushing it? I'm thinking about how I have absolutely fallen in love with these people, and I can say without a doubt that they are the perfect people to be on this crazy journey with. It couldn't have happened any other way. 

I'm thinking about this quote from The Opposite of Loneliness by Marina Keegan: "It's not quite love, and it's not quite community; it's just this feeling that there are people, an abundance of people, who are in this together. Who are on your team." In other words, "the opposite of loneliness." This perfectly describes the way I feel about the people on my team, the people in my corner, the people I'm going to be spending the next 20 months with and the ones who, even when I am lonely, manage to talk to me from another part of the country and make me feel like maybe, just for a moment, I'm not. 

I'm thinking about how I may never stop thinking. I don't know what's going on in my head but it's something. I'm thinking about how I don't want to stop because maybe I'll figure out something I need to know, or something somebody else needs to know. 

I'm thinking about how crazy I am for being here. Yes, sometimes I want to get on the first flight back home, but with weekends like this one I just had and thoughts like the ones I've been having.. With all these things I think are true, I think I'll stick to feeling crazy for a while and see what I can do here, in this place, with these people. What am I doing? I don't know. But I'm thinking.. I'm thinking I'm gonna make it.

Site Visit

This last week, a few of us had our site visits, which means our Program Manager, Violeta, made a trip down to our sites to talk with us and our partners. 

Violeta had a time and date in mind so I asked my partner about it and she said that would work. At the weekly meeting on Monday (with the site visit that Thursday) I was so ready to ask the mayor if he wanted to join us. I had planned what I was going to say, and he goes around to everyone to ask for updates, so I was totally ready.. And then my partner stole my thunder and told him before I could. But, whatever! Then he knew, so.

Thursday morning our meeting was set for 10:30, so a few minutes before 10 the mayor comes in and asks where Violeta is, because he has places to be. So we call her and she is on the way and ends up getting there around 10, so we just get right into it (or they do, it's a lot of fast Romanian). Luckily she got there before the mayor returned to our office, so I was able to tell her something that she could get in the conversation before he had to leave. 

We talked about all kinds of stuff - potential additional partners for me (my current one is not going to be one to actually work on stuff with), potential projects and things I can start trying to do, people I can meet, an NGO that we apparently have that I couldn't figure out anything about until then, and tons of other stuff. Violeta was an expert translator as usual, which was very helpful because I obviously don't know how to say everything I want to say. For example, they had decided I would go to the kindergarten once a week, which.. I mean, I like children and all, but there's a reason I don't currently have any and there's a reason I'm not a kindergarten teacher, and both of those reasons are that as cute as they are, they are also obnoxious, and I don't plan to do that anytime soon. Last time I was there I was with the youngest group (ages 2-3) and I was essentially just there to help babysit, which, as it turns out, is not in my job description. So Violeta got me out of that situation, thankfully.

After talking about all the important stuff and after my partner had stopped paying attention to us talking in English, she looked at me with that sympathetic head tilt people do and said, "So how are you feeling?" And I thought I had done pretty well with not being emotional the whole meeting, but that was all over and I had to cry about it. It's easy to be lonely all the time and be sort of okay with it, but then when someone asks you about it and you can tell they really care and want to know, well. I eventually recovered and my partner didn't even bat an eye (I would say they're as used to it as everyone else is, but really I've only cried like one time at work - they just know because my host mom tells EVERYONE about everything), and it was probably around time for Violeta to leave, so she got up to get her things and my partner thought that was the perfect time to make coffee. 

Violeta politely declined, but as I've learned, my partner does not take no for an answer when it comes to food and drinks, and she had both ready, so Violeta had to sit back down and they talked for a while while I attempted to understand (so I mostly just didn't, and ate cookies). It was past 1:00 by then, so Violeta drove me home (heck yeah, didn't have to walk through the mud for 20 minutes! She also set a GPS point at my house so if anything ever happens and I need Peace Corps to get to me, they can just plug that in and find me ASAP). We said goodbye, but I told her she has to come back and hang out, and she said she would, so I'm holding her to that. 

I was not really looking forward to this visit, because even though I knew it would be nice to see her, I was discouraged about not having done anything (I assumed we'd have nothing to talk about.. 3+ hours with her says I was clearly wrong) and no one wants to disappoint Violeta, and I hadn't been having the greatest week.. But it turned out to be all fine and even pleasant and encouraging, so hopefully tomorrow will be the start of a brand new, better week!

8 hours and 300 km later...

This weekend, World Hospice and Palliative Care Day was celebrated around the world. One of my COD friends is working with an NGO in southern Moldova called Hospice Angelus Taraclia, and she helped them to plan an event for this that she asked me to be a part of. Since I am in the southeast area of Moldova and Miki is in the south, logically it would be easy to get to her for this event, buuuuut.. You can't use logic here when it comes to transportation, so you'd be wrong. 

Friday I woke up at 4:30 a.m... Did you know there was a 4 in the morning as well as in the afternoon? Now I do. The earliest rutiera out of Căplani leaves at 5:30 and I had to be sure to catch that. Leaving before the sun is up is not my preferred travel time, but I did get to sleep on the warm, heated bus and watch the sunrise while we were on the road. 

I made it to Chișinău's central bus station around 8:30, but my 9:10 bus was leaving for Taraclia at the south bus station, which I'd never been to and didn't know how long it took to get to, so.. I booked it from the central station to the main road to catch a trolley bus to the south station. I made it there a few minutes after 9 and quickly found what I assumed was the right bus. I asked the driver if I needed a ticket and he told me where the ticket office was and what to tell the cashier, so I successfully did that as well (list of accomplishments for the day was already pretty high, given the hour). Turns out there was a more direct bus that didn't go through some of the towns I went through, but it was cool to see all of those, especially knowing that I have/had friends in some of them, so I didn't mind! (Now I can say, Naomi, I passed through your town! and stuff.)

I got to Taraclia around 12:45 and Miki and her partner were there to meet me! Before going back to her house for lunch, we stopped and hung up some posters for the event.. The event that would be happening the next day.. I could just feel Mass Comm. professors cringing from around the world.

After lunch we went to the House of Culture and we met with the people who work there. Hospice Angelus needed their permission to use the town square, so they wanted to make sure everything was a-OK. Miki's idea for the event was to perform a hip hop dance and then teach it to anyone who attended who might want to learn it. So during PST III, I taught her the dance (thanks to Olivia, fabulous Airband choreographer, for letting me steal her moves!) that we planned to use. She showed it to the House of Culture people and we had to change some of it, but mostly we figured it would be fine. 

At this meeting, they wanted us to show them the dance (cool) and show them how we were going to teach it (for sure). However.. They kind of had their own ideas about the teaching part, and basically told us, do this now, do this after, then do this.. Even if all of that wouldn't really work. Some of what they wanted wouldn't work for a simple reason, so logically I could just explain that to them, right? 

I forgot to mention something about Taraclia, and about Miki. Miki learned Russian while I learned Romanian. No big deal, people speak both, right? Welllllll not in Taraclia. So I was back to not understanding anything. (After this weekend, I know a few more Russian words, but there's no way those few words together can lead to any comprehension other than guessing based on context.) So while we're floundering in there and not being understood, they say, oh hold on, we'll bring in a translator (Miki translated that for me). Great! That'll be awesome. 

The translator speaks Romanian! 

So they tell us something in Russian, which she translates to Romanian, which I translate to English. Miki understands much of what they say but the translator is very helpful when we want to tell them something that I have the words for but Miki doesn't, and eventually we (hopefully) get our point across. We dance and try to teach them the dance for hours (I think I can say "1, 2, 3, 4" in Russian now.. So that's helpful) and finally we are set free! Our hope for the next day is that it will be nothing like our practice session, because if so, we will have no control over how we do anything.. Our optimism levels falter slightly, but we try to be positive and hopeful about the event!

Then we have.. The best day ever. 

Miki let me sleep in, which was the start of a wonderful day, as we stayed up quite late the night before hanging out with one of her friends and as I was really tired from 8 hours and 300 km of travel.

We went for a walk and I got to see how BEAUTIFUL Taraclia and the surrounding villages are. We were just walking along and everything was flat, the fields met the sky and it was lovely, and then we walked a few more steps and suddenly you could see valleys for miles! It was stunning. We practiced our dance out there, performing for the valleys and the far off villages and it was amazing. 

Our captivating audience

After our walk, we went back to her apartment where her host mom had cooked the best meal either of us had had in these whole four months we've been in Moldova. It was so simple, but so great - lamb and potatoes with some sort of seasoning, and a bunch of great vegetables.. I'm practically drooling just thinking about it. 

With the morning having been so great, I'm thinking that even if the event is a bust, we've still had a pretty good day. 

We head over to the square and try to help set up. The event is to start at 4:00, and at 4:00, no one is really there. But they are playing loud music so Miki and I dance and try without success to get the few kids there to dance with us. There is an MC who says stuff I don't understand, and a woman from the news arrives to tape stuff.. So it's not too exciting for her, either. We hope that more people will show up eventually. Another PCV in Taraclia comes to support us and while we're talking to her, the MC says our names and we are apparently supposed to go up to the front to perform. 

I'm thinking, but why now?? No one is here! (Miki told me later that she was thinking the same thing.) 

We head to the front of the square near the stage, and the song starts and even though the sun is in our eyes, we can see that suddenly there are about 20 young girls in front of us waiting to see the dance, and more people around the square than there had been literally minutes ago. It was as if they all appeared out of nowhere. 

We performed the dance, and then the MC said we were going to teach it.. And ALL THOSE GIRLS were lined up, ready to learn. They all wanted to do it with us! We went from getting rejected by 8 year old boys to having a line of girls all excited for us to teach them. 

They learned so quickly and we only taught half of it before switching to teaching line dances (Cupid Shuffle, Macarena), which they all participated in. It was so exhilarating, and Miki and I could not believe how amazing it was. Everything happened so fast; it was such a rush! Miki had also lined up a kid to play electric guitar (a precious and super talented 11 year old that she is obsessed with and now I see why), so we stopped the dancing for that to happen, and I thought we were done with it. 

But the girls didn't want to be done. While the kid played guitar, they were off on the sides practicing the beginning of the dance and asking me to teach them the rest of it, which was difficult, because they were trying in Russian and a little Romanian and a little English.. But all at once so I didn't really get anything out of the conversation, ha. They couldn't wait for his set to be done so we could teach them more! (A little sad, because he was SO good.)

We taught them the rest of the dance and we all performed it a few times. They wanted their pictures taken with us, and they were so excited to talk to us and to dance with us.. It was so awesome. 

When I was on the Dance Team in college, if you had told me that I'd be teaching a dance in America, I would say, no, I think not, literally any other girl on the team would be better and more qualified to do that. If you had told me that I would successfully teach a dance to young girls in Eastern Europe without really even being able to count in their language, I would NEVER have believed it. But that's what happened! Sure, I didn't understand anything people were saying, but you don't need to be able to translate to understand emotions and excitement and engagement. And dance is universal. 

The event may not have raised as much money or awareness for World Hospice Day as the organization hoped, but I think most of the people there had fun - even if they didn't participate, we were likely entertaining to watch. 

Most importantly in our lives, it was such a personal victory for Miki and me. We felt great about it (still do, hello!) and felt great about ourselves.. Which might sound slightly selfish, and it does feel like that a little bit, but at four months into Peace Corps and two months into being at permanent site, I feel like the personal victories are immeasurably crucial. This will motivate us to keep moving forward and to keep trying new things and to stay positive, and I think we kind of need that motivation. It's like this day revitalized us and now we know we can DO things, which yeah, we could have told you that before, but it's way easier to believe you can do something if you've done something. We were bouncing off the walls excited during and after, and I would have gone 600 km if I'd needed to to be at this event with Miki. 

I'm so glad she thought of me for this and included me in her event, and if I loved Miki before (which I did), now we're even closer. Which is awesome, because she's awesome, and we are clearly awesome together. 

We can definitely conquer another year and 10 months now, so I hope Moldova's ready.