...and now for some ranting

I think it's pretty clear that I am a positive person. Anyone who knows me or even reads this blog can tell that I'd rather dwell on the good stuff (or try to find the humor in the not-so-good stuff) than do the alternative. Not to say that my life is full of sunshine and rainbows. I can't tell you how many bad days and moments I've had in the past year. Moments where I was mad at Moldovans for not being as understanding of my fish-out-of-water state as I thought they should have been, mad at my fellow Americans for not acting like gracious guests in this country, mad at myself for making stupid mistakes, mad at America for being so freaking far away, and just mad at the world in general. But bad days happen no matter what country you live in or what your job is, and the last thing I want to do is to play the part of the suffering servant who is demanding that everyone feel sorry for me because I'm sacrificing two years of my life for my country.

The reason for this post is that I find that there is an all too prevalent attitude among Peace Corps volunteers in Moldova (and probably PC volunteers in other countries as well). There are those who come to Moldova, and spend two years (or one year, or however long they end up staying here) complaining. They are quick to vocalize everything that's wrong with Moldova and with their counterparts or students and feel that the demands and challenges of a PCV in Moldova are, frankly, not worth the effort. They are constantly putting down Moldovan culture and traditions and saying how much they miss America and everything it stands for. They are often cynical about enacting any real change here and often feel that corruption and societal apathy are much more powerful than the measly efforts they make toward change.

This drives me crazy. Of course there are hardships that come with being in the PC. Of course our jobs are difficult. Of course change happens slowly. But did we really expect it to be any different? Sure, it'd be great to live in France or Spain, where the culture is more Western and the living standards are more to our liking, but there is a reason why PC isn't in those countries--it's not needed. Poverty is not simple. And development work of any kind is never quick and easy. The part that any PCV plays in helping Moldova in its development will be a small one.

I'll admit that I was one of those who idealized the Peace Corps prior to joining it. I believed in the goals of this organization, and I was excited to be a small part of "changing the world." Cheesy, but true. And I'll also admit, that like every other volunteer who comes to Moldova (or Tanzania or Thailand or wherever), I've gained some cynicism. After all, the PC is a large organization funded by the U.S. government. Of course there will be bureaucracy. Of course there are policies that come from Washington, D.C. that we volunteers in Moldova have to follow even though we feel like they have nothing to do with us. And of course, like everyone else, I've had an identity crisis of sorts and asked the inevitable question: "What am I doing here?"

But the truly successful volunteers I have seen so far are the ones who realize that wallowing in misery doesn't get them anywhere. If their primary project falls through, they create another project. If they are struggling with being accepted at their school, they work as hard as they can to form clubs and reach out to students to prove that they are a valid addition to their community. They try their best to be respectful of Moldovan mindsets (even if they disagree), and they realize that playing the part of the arrogant American walking in to save the day isn't going to get them very far. They get discouraged and frustrated and wonder if they're doing anything significant, but they keep doing what they're doing.

Negativity and cynicism can end up being a self-fulfilling prophecy. If a volunteer becomes so obsessed with what can't be done, they end up becoming paralyzed. They stop caring, and they often stop trying. They might go through the motions of their job, but they often try to get by with the bare minimum. They "hang in there" for their time here, looking at that 2-year mark like light at the end of the tunnel. And in doing so, they miss so many amazing opportunities.

Please don't think that I'm claiming to be one of those Super-Volunteers who never sleeps and who always does the right thing. But I guess the point of this post is that I see the two extremes that volunteers can become, and I know the one I want to aim for. I want to look at the end of my two years here and be happy about what I was able to do, rather than be filled with regret for all of the things I could have done. So I guess this post is a bit of a public challenge to myself. I've got a year left, and I have some work to do.

One Year

One year ago today I boarded a plane to Philadelphia, where I began my Peace Corps career. It's not my style to get sappy and nostalgic, so this post is not going to be full of philosophical musings. But I will say this: one year later, I am truly at home in Moldova. I think, speak, and dream in Romanian, dodge cows and goats on my daily walk to school, and ride quite calmly and un-seat belted (though the latter is not by choice) in cars weaving maniacally through traffic and pot holes. My life has indeed changed.

As is my custom, I have a few stories about recent occurrences. Nothing earth-shattering, but important to me nonetheless. These, just as much as anything else, demonstrate the rhythms that have become my new life over this past year.

The other day as I was sitting at dinner with my host family, I accidentally dropped my fork on the floor. My brother-in-law immediately spoke up to comment. He is a bit of a smart alec, so I figured he was going to say something about my lack of coordination. Instead he remarked, "Rodica's coming home, and she'll want to eat." Rodica is my host sister, and she was at work at the time. My host mom must have seen the "huh?" written on my face because she then proceeded to explain that in Moldova there is a belief that when a fork is dropped on the floor it means a woman is on her way, and she's hungry. If it's a knife (or maybe a spoon? I can't remember exactly), a hungry man is coming instead. As an American who grew up being bombarded with the message: "You choose your own destiny," it's interesting to live in a culture where people have such a strong belief in the power of Fate.

Another recent occurrence involves my outhouse. For all PCV's in Moldova, using an outhouse quickly becomes a non-issue. We forget that in our previous lives the word 'outhouse' evoked images of Laura Ingalls Wilder and the Sears Roebuck Catalogue. There are many different kinds of viceu's (outhouses) in Moldova. We volunteers like to compare viceu's to determine who has the best one (I kid you not). My viceu is definitely up towards the top of the list. Rather than being just a hole in a wooden floor, it has an actual toilet, a tiled floor, and wall-paper. A couple weeks ago my host mom excitedly asked me to come to the viceu so she could show me something. When she opened the door, I saw that my host dad had rigged up a sort of "plumbing," so that a rubber tube coming down from a hole in the ceiling ran into the toilet. Just by turning a spicket, water (that came from a metal tub collecting rainwater on the roof of the viceu) would run into the toilet. So now, rather than using a bucket and water to "flush" the toilet, we have real-live running water. I think that safely secures me at the top of the list for best outhouse in Moldova. I'm quite proud.

The other big recent event was my last day of school. In America, the last day of school isn't usually much to talk about. Students are busy cleaning out their lockers and getting yearbooks signed. In Moldova, that is far from the case. Just as the first day of school calls for pomp and circumstance, so does the last. All of the teachers and students came dressed to a T (for me that meant actually wearing a skirt and heels for once). We teachers received flowers and kisses from students, and there was a grand closing ceremony in the school's back courtyard, complete with speeches, dances, poems, and a releasing of doves. We even had a representative from the parliament, a police officer, and the local priest as guest speakers. Go big or go home.

All of that to say: this past year has been a series of interesting, frustrating, hilarious, and downright bizarre events. And I am SO glad I've got another.