There's Something about Mary

Stories and thoughts about my time as a Peace Corps volunteer in Moldova


Paşte Fericit pt 2

After taking a nap, my host family got together for our Easter meal,   The first part started around 2, when my host moms daughters came over with their husbands and also my host moms father.  They stayed for about 2 hours and tehn my host dads side of the family came over.

My host dad has a large family, 2 daughters (1 is married) , 3 granddaughters (2 are married), 2 (maybe 3) grandsons, and 7 great-grandchildren.

The great-grandkids really enjoyed the cat, I felt bad for her because she kept getting chased.


O zi buna!


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Paşte Fericit! (Happy Easter) pt1

This past weekend I celebrated easter with my host family.  I was really unsure of what to expect, but I knew it is a big deal for Moldovans.  As I have mentioned before, a large majority of Moldovans are Orthodox, they use a different calendar then Christians and so this year Easter was celebrated a week later then the Christian Easter on April 8th.

My host mom had been preparing for Easter for about 2 weeks, thoroghly cleaning the house and washing all the rugs.  (I helped a bit too).  And also preparing the food.  Lots of meats, salads, a special sweat bread and boiled eggs that were dyed red and green. By Saturday every thing was prepared and the house was nice and clean.

Saturday night our plan was to go to the church at around 4 AM.  I woke up around 3:30, went to wash my face and my host mom called her daughters and then they all decided not to go since it was raining so hard, so I went to go back to sleep, and 5 minutes later my host mom came back and said she changed her mind, we should go, we are already awake. So 10 minutes later we were on our way to the church with our umbrellas and a basket of food to have blessed.  I didn’t realize till after we arrived that we weren’t going to the whole church service, we were just waiting for the priest to bless our food, along with many other people in Riscani.

We waited for about an hour, then following the ladies singing the priest came with his bucket of water, said a blessing and then splashed us and the food with the holy water.  Afterwards we were done, and walked back home,  When we got home we ate a little of the food, had a little of the wine, then took a nap until the next masa later on Sunday.



One of the things my host mom was very curious about was if we did something similar in the US.  I had to explain to her no we don’t but I am glad I got to experience it with them.

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With your wet hair, you can’t go outside.

Last night while eating dinner with my host mom, I commented on how I needed to take a shower and wash my hair (it had been a few days).  Then she told me that when she had gotten up on Monday morning there was snow on the ground, so she turned off the hot water heater so I couldn’t take a shower, because she didn’t want me to go outside with my wet hair.  (I don’t like to blow dry my hair, and my host mom thinks that going outside with wet hair will make me sick).  I then told her that going outside with wet hair will not make me sick, and her response was that she had asked her hair dresser and the hair dresser had said yes, it will make you sick.  At that point I just smiled to myself and didn’t argue with her, because it would have been a lost cause, let alone the fact taht I wasn’t planning on showering Monday morning, I was more interested in sleeping.

Moldovans are afraid of the cold, and the wind.  On hot summer days people will refuse to open the windows on a hot bus because the “curent” (i.e air flow, wind) might get them. Some people say that the air flow causes evil spirits to enter.  I had a cold a couple weeks ago and the lady in my office asked me if it was because the window was open and I sit next to it.  No, I responded.  I get a cold like this every year, it is normal.  And my favorite are the little kids who have so many layers on they can’t bend their arms or legs.  In the summer, if it gets a little cloudy, they are bundled up in several layers of pants and sweatshirts.

In my town I am sure people wonder and talk about me, like why I don’t wear boots during the winter, my flats for them are considered “summer shoes”  For now I will just be that strange American 😉

O zi buna!