So I moved again.
I know, I know, who moves four times in 6 months. If you want an even odder question, who moves IN MOLDOVA four times in 6 months. I’m an anomaly.
The security director at peace corps came and did a site visit. He absolutely freaked out when he saw my house—everything was wrong with it. “What, you don’t like that I’m living deliberately,” I asked him sternly. Even worse, his main problem with the house: it won’t withstand an earthquake. WHOSE HOUSE IN MOLDOVA WILL WITHSTAND AN EARTHQUAKE??? Houses are made of clay! When I told Scott that Peace Corps was making me move, he adeptly noted, "Nikki, your house is like camping, inside."
Anyway, I was a good volunteer and I did what I was told. The house I’m living in now is a bit nicer, higher ceilings, and ya know, a cooking space. A week before I left Agripina, she had a big masa (dinner party) for the soul of her dead husband. They do this here—eat and drink for the soul of people. Especially now that it’s Easter time, there’s a lot of eating and drinking, and a lot of satiated souls up there. I sat at the masa for a half hour before I had to go to basketball practice. Everytime I was handed a shot of vodka, Agripinia would look at me with the saddest yet fiercest of eyes, and tell me, “you have to to, it’s for my dead husband.” I tired everything. I’m skinny [which usually works], there are rules about how much we can drink in peace corps, I’m taking medication that doesn’t mix with vodka, they will fire me at school if I show up drunk to practice, I’ll fall asleep this instant if I drink that, I’ll vomit this instant if I drink that.
The outcome?
I just don’t think you can say no to a shot when you’re drinking for someone’s dead soul. I think I’m going to have a masa for my mom in may, to which I plan on inviting Agripinia, and getting her back for this. Does this mean her dead husband, who was run over by a horse 8 years ago, will be drunk up there with my mom? I think that’s what they believe.
Below you'll find more pictures, some from the last night of living deliberately, and when we took Scott’s host family out to a crazy fancy restaurant in Chisinau. In fact it’s the only fancy restaurant in Chisinau. They’re villagers, who have been to a restaurant once before in their lives, so for obvious reasons, this was a big deal for them. Here are some pictures of both nights, two highlights of my time here so far.
The security director at peace corps came and did a site visit. He absolutely freaked out when he saw my house—everything was wrong with it. “What, you don’t like that I’m living deliberately,” I asked him sternly. Even worse, his main problem with the house: it won’t withstand an earthquake. WHOSE HOUSE IN MOLDOVA WILL WITHSTAND AN EARTHQUAKE??? Houses are made of clay! When I told Scott that Peace Corps was making me move, he adeptly noted, "Nikki, your house is like camping, inside."
Anyway, I was a good volunteer and I did what I was told. The house I’m living in now is a bit nicer, higher ceilings, and ya know, a cooking space. A week before I left Agripina, she had a big masa (dinner party) for the soul of her dead husband. They do this here—eat and drink for the soul of people. Especially now that it’s Easter time, there’s a lot of eating and drinking, and a lot of satiated souls up there. I sat at the masa for a half hour before I had to go to basketball practice. Everytime I was handed a shot of vodka, Agripinia would look at me with the saddest yet fiercest of eyes, and tell me, “you have to to, it’s for my dead husband.” I tired everything. I’m skinny [which usually works], there are rules about how much we can drink in peace corps, I’m taking medication that doesn’t mix with vodka, they will fire me at school if I show up drunk to practice, I’ll fall asleep this instant if I drink that, I’ll vomit this instant if I drink that.
The outcome?
I just don’t think you can say no to a shot when you’re drinking for someone’s dead soul. I think I’m going to have a masa for my mom in may, to which I plan on inviting Agripinia, and getting her back for this. Does this mean her dead husband, who was run over by a horse 8 years ago, will be drunk up there with my mom? I think that’s what they believe.
Below you'll find more pictures, some from the last night of living deliberately, and when we took Scott’s host family out to a crazy fancy restaurant in Chisinau. In fact it’s the only fancy restaurant in Chisinau. They’re villagers, who have been to a restaurant once before in their lives, so for obvious reasons, this was a big deal for them. Here are some pictures of both nights, two highlights of my time here so far.
posted by NikkiD | 8:14 AM
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