Masa de Pomenire

I've managed to check quite a few Moldovan traditions/events off my list, but a couple still elude me: a wedding, and a funeral. Now, let me be clear about the latter--I'm not crossing my fingers for this one (the more people that stay alive the better). But still, I know that were I to attend a funeral, I would learn a lot about Moldova's cultural and religious values. Even though I haven't yet witnessed how Moldovans bury their dead, I have seen how they remember them. This past weekend was the 4-year anniversary of the death of my host mom's father. We marked the occasion by holding a masa de pomenire, a memorial dinner. Moldovans have such memorial dinners at regular intervals after a person's death (3 days, 1 month, 1 year, 2 years, etc.).

I've heard stories from other PC volunteers who have been to them, and they differ depending on how long it's been since the person died and how old he or she was at the time. Apparently at some memorial dinners, they watch home videos and look at old pictures of the deceased--an awkward thing to be a part of if you're a PCV who had never met the person being remembered (or in some cases, the family who was giving the memorial dinner). Thankfully, the one I participated in was mostly free of awkward moments.

The night before the dinner, I went to our local Orthodox church with my host mom, host sister, and two host nieces. We brought a small "meal" of cake, fruit, cookies, and champagne (first time in my life I've brought alcohol into a church!) as a sort of freewill offering, and the priest prayed a blessing for health on behalf of my two host nieces. I can't say I quite understood all of the symbolism of the event, but I liked that one way of remembering deceased loved ones is by praying for the future of those loved ones whose lives have just begun.

The next day we gathered at my host brother's house for the dinner. It was scheduled to begin at 12, so in true Moldovan fashion, we sat down to eat around 1:30. At the beginning of the meal my host mom passed out a round loaf of bread, a lighted candle, and a towel to each of the people present, announcing that she was doing so in the memory of her father. I later asked my host sister what the significance of the gifts were, and she said that my host mom was wishing us light for our paths, bread to fill our stomachs, and a towel to clean our hands with (I get the symbolism of the first two, but I'll admit she lost me on the last one).

The rest of the meal felt like a gathering of friends. The guests talked a little bit about the deceased, but mostly the conversation revolved around the present. It seemed natural to me, considering it had been 4 years since he had died.

The only real awkward moments at the meal happened--as usual--when my host dad decided to embarrass me by asking me in front of all the other guests if I had found a nice Moldovan boy to marry and if I would like to stay in Moldova. When I answered easily in Romanian, several of the guests proceeded to talk about my language skills and the plausibility of my settling in Moldova. Acting, of course, as if I wasn't there.

The next item I want to check off my list: making it through a social function without having my relationship status brought up as a topic of group conversation.

The Difference a Year Makes

Today was my first day of school. The first day of my second year of teaching in Moldova. I'll admit that I was a little nervous to go back to school after having a three-month summer vacation (although it wasn't really a vacation for me since I spent the whole summer helping train the new group of Peace Corps English Education volunteers). I remembered how nerve-wracking my first couple of months of teaching were last fall, and the thought of going through that again made my stomach turn.

But, after completing my first day of this school year, I've realized something: a year makes a big difference. Last year when I arrived at school on September 1st, I knew almost no one. This year I greeted (and was greeted by) my fellow English teachers, other school faculty, and several of my students. Last year I barely knew any Romanian and struggled to speak on even the most basic level. This year I listened with pleased embarrassment as my partner teacher Irina bragged to a new teacher about how good my Romanian is.

Last year I showed up on the first day of school not knowing which classes I would teach and whom I would be teaching with. Today was no different, but this year I'm not freaked out by it. Last year I felt like an outsider and a foreigner. This year I felt glad to return to my school and my students.

I know this year will have plenty of its own difficulties. For the entire month of September I'll probably have to find out what classes I'm teaching the morning of, when I show up for school. I'll have discipline issues, difficulties in finding available classrooms, and--my personal favorite--endless headaches from trying to follow the impossibly meticulous guidelines for using the Moldovan grading catalogues.

But this year is different. I know what to expect this time around. I'm looking forward to making a few less mistakes, having a little more fun, and feeling a little more like a real teacher. In fewer words, I'm ready for Round Two.