Baptism by Fire

I made it! I am an official Peace Corps Volunteer! The English Education and Health Education Trainees were sworn in in Chişinău on August 18. Getting to the swearing in ceremony was no easy task. Here’s a run-down of my daily schedule for the last three weeks of PST:
8:30-11:00 A.M.: Romanian lessons
11:15-1:00: practice school: real lessons with real Moldovan kids
1:00-2:00: lunch
2:00-5:00: planning for practice school
5:00-6:00: dance practice. That’s right, I said dance practice. At the farewell ceremony for our PST host families, we performed several traditional Moldovan dances and sang a few Moldovan songs. I didn’t know that being a Volunteer would require this much dancing.
6:00-?: finish planning
9:00 P.M.-1:00 A.M. (or 2:00…or 3:30…): make teaching materials, write lesson plans in required Peace Corps format.

For the first part of practice school, resource teachers (experienced Moldovan English teachers) helped us plan our lessons, observed our classes, and gave us feedback. One day, my resource teacher and I were at school so late that the custodians accidentally locked us in, and we had to climb out a window that was five feet off the ground. It made my day.

So, having learned the Moldovan polka and broken out of a locked building, I am now at my permanent site. I am still settling in, but I can now get to and from school, two stores, and my partner teachers’ houses on my own, which is impressive considering that none of the roads have names. Yesterday morning, I came upon a well and suddenly knew exactly where I was. In a foreign country. That was an amazing feeling.

My host family is fantastic. I’ve been hanging out with my nine-year-old host niece and giving impromptu English lessons at the dinner table (only when requested). I’ve also been going to BBQs and dinner parties. It’s pretty cool to think that going to BBQs and playing UNO with a nine-year-old are actually part of my official job description: cultural integration in order to promote world peace and friendship. What a sweet gig.

School starts on September 1st. I will be teaching eight grade on my own and team-teaching the sixth, eighth (eight grade will be split in half), ninth, tenth, eleventh, and twelfth grades with my partner teachers. My partner teachers and I have been working hard, but we still have so much to do before school starts!

For some reason, I have a lot of stories about food. Here they are:
-One day, during practice school, a meal of stewed cabbage, fresh plăcintă (bread stuffed with cheese, cabbage, potatoes, or fruit), and hot compote (boiled fruit juice) warmed my soul. I took that as a sign of cultural adjustment.
-Moldovan BBQ is amazing. So far, I’ve had BBQed chicken, goat, and sheep. One evening, at a BBQ, I spilled ketchup on my pants and thought, “It’s like I never left.”
-I have a new appreciation for seedless grapes.
-Last night, my host parents yelled at my host niece for blowing bubbles in her milk. I guess some things are universal.
-One day I bit into a piece of plăcintă and had the following thoughts: There’s fruit in here. It’s apple. This is apple pie!
-I have been secretly using “cross-cultural education” as justification for trying every type of candy in the candy dish at parties.
-Today, I did a double take because I thought I saw a Wendy’s cup on the side of the road.
-It’s watermelon season. I have never eaten so much watermelon in such a short amount of time. For some reason, Moldovans use the Russian word for watermelon. It’s one of the three Russian words I know.

Moving and starting a new job is a difficult process, especially in a foreign country, so I have been pretty stressed out and homesick, but last night, my host mom and I had the following conversation:

Host mom: Let’s go.
Me: Where?
Host mom: To the BBQ.

Ten minutes later, I was riding in the back of my host family’s orange van, listening to – and understanding! – blaring Moldovan pop music. The floor of the van was covered in watermelons.

I suddenly remembered why I became Peace Corps Volunteer.

I know that some of you are dying to see pictures. They’re coming. I promise.