I’ve been sitting on this post for a while, conscious of how it may be interpreted – conscious that it’s active frustration with how women are perceived in my host country. Conscious that it’s feminism.
I’m also conscious that it’s a worldwide problem, one that varies in severity and expression per culture, per ethnicity, per socio-economic status, per many other factors – but is still a human problem that must be addressed. Continue reading “Women are Weak”
Fidanjik, a partner organization of Miras-Moldova, organized a small spectacle to celebrate the country’s “Day of Invalids.” I attended with my Peace Corps friend Ray, my two European Voluntary Service (EVS) volunteer friends, and another former French EVS volunteer who had worked with the Center.
Fidanjik is a Rehabilitative Center for disabled youth located in the middle of Comrat. The organization was founded in 2001 with the assistance of the local government and supports children with both physical and mental disabilities through activities designed to develop life skills. Services include interactive play, literacy classes, cultural activities, sports activities, exercises in motor skills, a focus on personal hygiene and meetings with the Center’s psychologist. EVS volunteers from Miras Moldova work with the children three or four times per week, assisting with the above activities. They have also organized field trips outside of Comrat and performed humorous skits for the children. Continue reading “A Different Kind of Day”
In a country renowned for its wine production, a place where nearly every household brags of its home brand (often bottled in recycled soda two-liters), and once-loved for its exports to Russia*, it is only natural that one of the most celebrated days of the year would be one where revelers could saturate themselves in the red-or-white nectar. Continue reading “Culture Express: Gagauz Wine Day”
I’m away from family, dear friends: scents, sounds, even the colors of Gagauz leaves spark snippets of memory. Holidays do the same. I recently recalled that Thanksgiving, that time I experimented for the “perfect” turkey… we bag them in all-American plastic, for succulence! But my bird wept and wilted, and when placed on the table, the meat slid from the bones to the serving platter. There was no room for the traditional carving that night… oh no, wicked marketing scheme, you did us no good. But here, in Comrat, a different story unfolded: a turkey massacre, a gathering of helpers, an opportunity for exchange, and to learn.
Food! The eternal unifier, facilitator of conversations, an excuse to gather friends and let the good (Moldovan) wine flow.
As he traced that heart in the air with two fingers, I knew… love had struck… again.
Or perhaps not. Here, where time flows and contracts like the accordion song of a Comrat native (never mind the occasional wheeze), a few busy weeks can marinate a day’s experience. Some memories stare back, more assertive than others; conversation ensues, and humorous reflection, and our common experiences distill a slick truth. Continue reading “A R(o)ug(h) Escapade”
Sundry Travels 