Moldova

I recently attended an International Tourism Youth forum in Lozova, Moldova. I was asked by my coworkers to attend this program and decided to give a presentationon our organization as well as ideas we have for rural tourism development. I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I volunteered to go, but I figured that I would give it a shot. The only thing that sucked is that the forum was at the same time as the Bulgarian week long holiday. I got in contact with a friend of mine from home who served in the PC in Moldova about a year ago. He recommended the trip and gave me some info about the country.

I was all ready to set off on my mini "business" trip when I received an email from the project coordinators in Moldova. I made a presentation on PowerPoint and sent it to them so they would have it for when I presented. They informed me that there would not be any access to computers at the site and the presentation should be presented in an "informal" setting. I really don't know what that meant. They also said that I need to bring a tent. Hell, a tent? I thought I would be checking into the 4 star hotel in Moldova (not really). Since I don't have a tent lying around my apartment, I decided to "wing-it"(this is a common practice of mine, one in which I relied on heavily in the Middle East).

The trip to and from Moldova was almost a better experience then the forum. First, a half hour trip on bus to Svishtov. Second, a hour and a half bus ride to Ruse followed by a different bus to Bucharest. I arrived in Bucharest about 6 hours early. I was planning on taking the night train from Bucharest to Kishinau. What to do for 6 hours in Bucharest? You guessed it, local beers + local Romanians = one hell of a good time. I spent the next six hours with 4 Romanians and 1 Bulgarian drinking and talking about hard rock bands from the states. I felt bad then and feel bad now for my lack of knowledge in the metal rock department. Something made them think that since I was American, I would know all about the devil music that is called rock. The Romanians spoke English, but the Bulgarian only Russian and Bulgarian I acted as a "translator" for the Bulgarian guy, which, believe me, was a site to be seen. But, after beers and Rakiu (Romanian rakia) I was speaking like the Bulgarian Shakespeare.

So after six hours of stimulating conversation, we were off to Moldova. Ironically, I was in the same sleeper as the Bulgarian guy. The train brought back memories of my European travel days. The smell of musky feet and moldy towels all came flowing back into my mind. As we settled in for the 13 train ride, we met our third and final member of our room, a Moldovan. He was a Moldovan that worked in Bucharest but was traveling to Kishinau to visit his family for the holiday. He was a really nice guy and spoke English decently. The Bulgarian was lost in the converstion as I would occational try to mutter some Bulgarian his direction to get him in the general direction of the converstion. We headed to the diner car before bed and I prepared myself for one hell of a train dinner. Pork sausage and boiled potatoes was on the menu and I was defiantly liking what the 75 year old Moldovan chef was cooking. After a few Kishinau brews, it was off to bed.

Around two o’clock in the morning, we were awoken by the Moldovan border guards. I was half asleep, drool on cheek, when the bombardment of questions came at me. The Moldovan guy was translating what the border guy was saying into English, and I was trying to translate it into Bulgarian for other guy. It was very interesting to say the least.

We arrived in Kishinau around 9 in the morning where I was met by one of the directors of the event. He was a really cool guy that actually spoke Bulgarian. We made our way to a small village about 35 km outside of the capital. Moldova is a pretty green country (only in color, not hybrid vehicle style) with a hilly landscape. The region was similar to that of northern Bulgaria, but I must say that the roads and infrastructure was a mess compared to Bulgaria’s system.

Here are a couple of pictures from the conference:

The opening ceremony for the conference. I was told the guy with the sweet hat is the best singer in Moldova. I don't know if that is true, but I do know one thing, that is a sweet ass felt hat.

Our kitchen for the duration of the trip. It is an old Soviet cooker that the military used. Our meals at the camp consisted of vegetarians dream: oatmeal, soup and boiled potatoes.

The tent I stayed in. About 20 of us.

The group of us standing around in the rain. It rained everyday I was there.

Part of our wine tour through the village. It was my new best friend of Moldova.

Part of the Religious tour of the town. All fifty of us crowded into the cemetery and celebrated the death of the ex-mayor with a glass of when and some pitka bread. I would like to apologize to a Mrs. Ivanova. I accidentally stepped on her grave.

This is the crafty craftsmen that created an inordinate amount of wooden things in his house. Everything from windows to toilet seats.

A Russian bell at a Moldovan monastery. It weight about 4 tons.

















So the path to the monastery was about 12 km there and 12 km back. On our way back, a group of 5 of us got lost in the Moldovan woods for about 2 hours. It was cold and rainy. The only reason we found our way out was by following the bird boxes (Beth) back to a road and then hitching back about 17 km to the camp site. It was the longest 2 hours of my life. All the white stuff is wild garlic.






Some tree.














A spoon game that we played at the camp.














On the trip, I ran into three Peace Corps volunteers from Moldova and four Peace Corps volunteers from Romania. It was interesting to hear there experiences and how similar and different our roles in a foreign country were going.

More to come on the Romania trips and the trip to the Middle East.


Take Care and Stay Classy Chicago,

Chase