Paşte Fericit

Orthodox Easter is a many-fold event. It is preceded by over a month of fasting, and days of frantic, thorough cleaning and food preparation, all of which would be of absolutely absurd proportions out of context. The celebration of Easter, itself, is the sweet fruit of those labors. Then there is a week of feasts and celebrations, concluded with an Easter for the Dead. Of this latter, I still know relatively little, but I'll make sure to share interesting experiences and adventures in a later post.

But let's start from the beginning.

Orthodox Easter began at midnight, on the first moments of Sunday, and continues through sunrise. I would love to tell you everything about the ceremony: the singing and chanting, the prayers, and passing of fire. I would love to do so, but I'm afraid it's a secret. And by "secret" I mean that I slept through it. Bah! I suppose I was simply too exhausted to sufficiently respond to the myriad alarms I had set to go off at 11:45 Saturday night. So, instead of participating in a celebration for which I had long been waiting, I caught a few senseless hours of sleep. Luckily, all was not lost.

The Easter service is held at the church, and can be divided into at least two sub-ceremonies. The first, of which I may have dreamed but certainly did not see, involves about four hours of singing prayers and receiving blessings from the priests. This is the part that meant the most to me, and I will be beating myself up about missing it until next Easter. Still, I hear it's exhausting, difficult to bear, and absolutely wonderful. The conclusion of this part of the Easter service is marked by the sharing of a holy flame which is brought from Jerusalem. Last year, a person actually carried the fire by plane from Israel to Moldova, and then distributed it throughout the towns and villages. This year, I don't know.

What I do know is that the church rings bells to mark the beginning of the second sub-ceremony. I know this because it was these bells, ringing at about 4:45 am, that finally pulled me from my sleep. I heard the bells, saw that it was quite dark outside, and thought maybe it was almost midnight. A short, panicked paralysis following the discovery of the actual time, and I rushed to get dressed, hoping to catch whatever was left of the service.

I arrived in time for the the blessing of the Paşca (pashka, pronounced with 'a' like pasta), a special Easter cake. Not everybody goes to the midnight service, but as I hurried toward the church, small groups of shadows also worked their way up the road to the church, quickly filling the small church grounds and then forming two long rows on the street leading away from the church. It was a clear night out, but only a sickle moon, so most of the light came from the hundreds of candles people had lit and stuck into their Paşca. I arrived just as the priests were beginning to splash holy water over the cakes and their owners.

As with the school blessing ceremony, the priests were accompanied by a small entourage: the head priest carried the holy water, which he flung using a small bundle of basil; another priest (this one my friend) carried the little metal ball of incense familiar to Orthodox and Catholic, alike; yet another priest carried a box for monetary donations. All sang prayers as they made their way down the lines, occasionally stopping to fetch another pail of holy water. Apparently, it is proper to shower the holy water liberally, quite without reserve. Understanding the significance, I appreciate that the priests are not stingy with their blessings, even if I need a towel, afterward. (Some volunteers, and probably some Moldovans, detest getting showered with holy water, but I am not among them in this.)

That's pretty much it for the ceremony. But Orthodox Easter is far from over.

Taking the Paşca home, my girlfriend and I cut pieces of the sweet bread and enjoyed some non-drowsy (thanks to the holy shower) conversation with very strong coffee. Eventually, the rest of the house came alive, and the Easter celebrations could be seen quite clearly on the horizon. I had a couple invitations for Easter feasts, and ultimately decided to join a couple from one of my adult English classes. One semi-unforeseen catch on this decision was that they would be taking me to a primarily Russian-speaking household, and while everybody there was able to speak Romanian to me, it is neither their mother tongue nor their language of choice. Another (completely) unforeseen catch was that, despite living in the middle of one of the best wine-producing regions of Moldova, this Russian family generally prefers vodka. The Russian wasn't a problem, and the vodka was simply a matter of preference, for me. So, in all, it was a great feast.

Orthodox Easter follows more than a month of fasting. For strict adherents of the faith, this means a completely vegan diet, no alcohol or other intoxicants, and a bunch of other sacrifices that generally make protestants cringe. Following such dietary suffering, most Orthodox Christians celebrate with appreciable overcompensation: more food than you can shake a stick at, and (sometimes) insane amounts of alcohol consumption. I'm not a large guy, and despite my highly-active metabolism, there's really no possible justification for the absurd quantities of food and (alas) vodka that gradually filled my mouth, stomach, and even that hollow left leg. *wink*

I'm inexpressibly glad that I was able to participate in at least some part of the Easter ceremonies, and I had a great time at the Easter feast. But it's not over yet. As I said, this next week will consist of further feasting and celebration, concluded by Easter for the Dead. Thus, I'm sure many more adventures will find and corner me before it's over. Wish me luck!

Preparation for Easter

In this part of the world, Easter is just about the most important time of year. It's not all about bunnies and candy, as the secular culture of the USA has made it. Instead, it is a mixture of highly-serious religious observation and light-hearted family and community celebration. I have yet to experience either aspect of the holiday, first-hand, so I'll wait to explain the history, ceremony, and customs of Moldovan Easter until after Sunday. Right now, people are preparing. And how!

Maybe "preparing" is too soft a word. It's more like turning the houses upside down in a spring cleaning to trump all spring cleanings, and preparing for the biggest and most wonderful feast possibly imaginable. The cleaning doesn't require further explanation. Everything must be proudly sparkling and brimming with pure cleanliness before Christ rises. I'm still not fully on-board with this concept, but I guess I understand why it is important the others.

The most visible (and curious) aspect of this pre-Easter cleaning is to be found on the roads. Every respectable curb is coated a brilliant, shining white. Or, at least, it is brilliant and shining for about a day. The curbs are not painted with "paint" per se; rather, they are whitewashed with what seems to be a chalky water. I'm pretty sure this is the same annoying substance covering the walls of most non-wallpapered rooms (such as schools). Benefit: it's cheap and easy to apply. Reason it's not worth it: it's chalk. A brief and gentle grazing of a wall covered in this stuff leaves an embarrassing white mark on everything. But to paint a curb with this chalk is a whole new level of senseless, as the first wash of rain strips away 100% of the glorious whiteness. Well, but it looks good for a few days, so there you have it.

The food is another matter, though. While I may feel ambivalent about the cleaning and the white curbs, the culinary exposé of tomorrow's holiday is entirely something to be anticipated with glee and rumbling stomach. Said rumbling stomach is amplified by the period of fasting leading up to Easter, known in Romanian as "Post" (equivalent to Catholic Lent, but much more extreme: people are strict vegans for over a month). Moldova has a rich tradition of sweet cakes, roasted meats, knotted breads, and excessively sugary candies with which to break Post ("post" with a lower-case 'p' simply means "fast"). The last day of Post, today (Saturday), people are supposed not to eat for the entire day, until after the mid-night Easter service. Then, immediately after the service (which ends around 6:00am), each household digs into the biggest masa (feast, or literally "table") of the year. Oh boy!

I'll be attending the Easter services, here, and I am very excited -- not just for the food, and certainly not for these spring cleaning rites. This will be my first Orthodox service since I arrived, and I am very much interested in learning more about this particular faith, and perhaps partaking in regular services and even a catechumin.

That's all for now. More on Easter after the fact, so stay tuned.

On those who sit in cars

Is anybody else creeped out by people who, for no apparent reason and for long periods of time, sit in their cars? Am I alone on this one, or are others baffled by such strange behavior?

It's something I've noticed in Moldova, though it may be endemic to a larger population group. Walking down the street in Chisinau, you may notice that every third car, sitting silently among the rows of parked cars, contains some person who seems content with his little metal sidewalk container. Do they think they are moving? Is the car, for them, some small refuge from the beautiful, sunny day outside? Perhaps it is a cheap (albeit time-consuming) theft deterrent? Maybe it just smells good?

The best explanation I have yet divined is this: Moldovans don't like leaning or sitting on non-seat surfaces (including retaining walls, curbs, window-sills, etc). I'll refrain from stating the 'why' of this until I can devise a way to explain it delicately and without upsetting my Moldovan friends. However, this cultural nuance, combined with the general lack of public seating, perhaps leaves car-owners little choice but to rest in their vehicles... no matter how long the wait, nor how small the vehicle, nor how creeped out the occasional passing pedestrian may be.

The real baffler, though, is when four of five people remain crammed into the three-person bench seat of a truck that is, quite apparently, not going anywhere for the foreseeable future. My logic does a half-back-flip and lands on its head when I see this (which is surprisingly often). This broken-neck-logic results in slight internal laughter, usually coupled with pity and severe confusion.

Clearly, there is a vast cultural rift that has so far prevented me from seeing such car-sitters and thinking, "Yah, OK. That's normal." Maybe somebody who "gets it" can help me understand.

The State of Moldova

The outcome of recent elections in Moldova has led to seemingly widespread discontent, as well as large demonstrations in Chisinau. On Tuesday, protesters stormed and severely damaged both the Parliament building and the Office of the President. The government has responded in a variety of manner, at one point declaring the Romanian Ambassador a persona non grata. Several local and international news organizations have been reporting on these events, to varying degrees. (Unfortunately, American media seems more interested in Twitter's role than in the actual events unfolding in the Republic of Moldova.)

While there has been grumbling and some organized demonstrations throughout the country, most of the protest seems concentrated in the capital. Please keep in mind: this has simply been my perception, and I am in no position to be declaring any definite facts. I merely say this to inform friends and family at home of what is going on, and that my town has remained peaceful and non-threatening, so far. I have no intention of posting anything further about the events to this blog, but friends and family are welcome to email me for updates and assurances.

For those of you looking for more information about Moldova and the history that has led to these current events, please follow these links:

• Wikipedia (of course)
• Ca La Moldova (an interesting and VERY recent documentary; link removed, as some people might find the content biased or inappropriate.)
  
• CIA World Factbook
• BBC Country Profile
  

There are a lot of really great links at the bottom of that Wikipedia page, so check those out if you just can't get enough. I'll be living life as normal, unless the situation escalates significantly. Of course, I'll let family and friends if things change for the worse.

EDIT: Here are some links to news articles that have seemed fairly accurate, although I don't think I've read a single article, yet, that has fully and fairly captured the events.

• BBC News
• Reuters
  

World Cup Championship... kind of

Portland's futball (or, for those of you afflicted with knowledge of the American sport known as football: soccer) team, the Timbers, has a pretty impressive. It's only USL, and Portland isn't a particularly large city, so it's remarkable that the games draw loud, energetic, and sizable crowds to partially fill the slightly miniature stadium (primarily a minor league baseball venue). The Timbers Army makes the games worth going to, even on the occasion of a loss. Despite filling fewer than half the seats of the small stadium, Timbers game crowds provide an unusual opportunity (in the states) to participate in the pulsing mass of passionate and creative futball fans. American football games got nothing on this -- sorry, America.

Being a Timbers fan of any degree is great. But there was talk (read: sighing and resigned acceptance) that futball games in the rest of the world were a whole different beast: enormous stadiums packed with painted legions, whose roaring and stamping cause the city around them to tremble.

Last weekend, I had my first opportunity to experience something approaching this quality of game. By some stroke of last-minute luck, I landed a ticket to the World Cup qualifier match between Moldova and Switzerland. There was (deafening) whispering of a chance that Moldova might be able to win the match, and thus making it past the first round of qualifiers for the only official event more international the a UN meeting. The Swiss are not the strongest of futball players, but would still be a formidable challenge for the Moldovan team. Sadly blaspheming, I arrived moments after kick-off, sitting down at nearly center-field, sideline seats. (!)

I was out of practice, as a fan. My throat was hoarse after only a couple minutes, and I had no idea who I should be watching. I caught on, after a while, though. The Moldovan chants were rather uncreative, and thus easy to learn: Hai Moldova! Hai Moldova! (That is: Come on Moldova!). Still, the stadium was significantly larger than any other futball stadium I had previously seen, and it was packed well beyond the "sold out" level. Several sections, solid red, were obviously Swiss, but the majority of the crowd carried the Moldovan colors. (I wasn't able to find myself apparel in anything above "child's medium" size, this time.)

Ultimately, the Moldovan team lost. We discussed post-game: Clearly, it was because the Moldovans weren't challenging for the ball, and there wasn't enough small play. We fans are experts on the game, of course; we would play, were it not for some knee injury, or some other such excuse. Regardless of the fan review, the Moldovan team made a worthy effort, and it is unfortunate that their bid for the World Cup Championship had to end at Game One. Nonetheless, I feel privileged to have been in attendance. And Moldova's next chance is only a few years away, right?

Now I'm even more eager to attend regular matches -- here, and elsewhere in Europe.

On Tutoring

I recently began accepting requests from people -- both individuals and groups -- to teach English classes outside of school. In my first few months as site, I had refused such requests on the grounds that I was simply not settled enough in the community and in my primary role as a volunteer. However, one of the results of my hitting bottom a few weeks ago was the realization that I do not particularly enjoy teaching English in the classroom. This, paired with my lack of diverse social interaction in my community, spurred me to change my self-limitations, thus opening the doors for tutoring.

I waded into the waters of tutoring with one-on-one home lessons with a student who desired knowledge of English, in addition to his in-school French studies. Sure, why not? Ambition should not be stifled, right? He proved to be an eager learner, which is (incidentally) my favorite kind of student. In these lessons, I discovered that such tutoring could proceed at a much faster pace than classroom lessons. More importantly, I could teach material that matters: relevant grammar, phrases and idioms, American and British variants of words, vocabulary that is more pertinent than "Wellington boots" (yah, that's a real vocab word from the Moldovan textbooks). And all of this at a variable pace that best suits the particular student.

The following week, I began classes with a small group of women at a local social services NGO. The first week with this group was quite fun for me, as I led three happy and energetic women through the alphabet and some basic salutations. The next week, I arrived to a group which had more than tripled in size, including two priests and a few people from a nearby government office. Word was getting out that a volunteer was offering free English classes to the community. Suddenly and unexpectedly, I was becoming fairly popular in town. What started as one-on-one tutoring with a student had quickly exploded into several separate classes of groups which varied both in number of attendees and average age. This week, I began a class with over 15 people at the primaria (the Mayor's office), to which the mayor is expected, post-elections, to attend.

All of my out-of-school classes started with the very basics of English, such as the alphabet, common pronunciation, and plenty of pointers, such as: English isn't a phonetic language, and To make the 'th' sound, put your tongue between your teeth... no, don't use your lips, and Remember, English is not phonetic. The 'a' makes a lot of different sounds. These are the sort of reminders that English teachers in this part of the world get to (or should, at least) use every single day of their careers. Luckily, the materials for these lessons are easily adaptable to all types of classes, whether younger or older, smaller or larger.

Let's be clear on one thing, though: I don't teach these classes simply out of my love for the English language. I teach English at the school enough to satisfy my responsibility as an English Education volunteer. However, teaching these courses provides me opportunities to meet and get to know people in my community -- such opportunities as were painfully lacking in the first seven months of my service. This extra social stimulation, the subsequent filling of my free time, and the coming of spring, have all contributed to bringing me out of the shell of my bedroom / the internet.

Now, if only I could just do this sort of thing all day, instead of banging my head against the wall (read: teaching English according to the national curriculum)...