Primavara A Venit

As I sit in my room at the tail-end of a long day, listening to "Beautiful Otherness" by the Nottingham, England-based group, Bent, I feel a pleasant feeling of contentedness. Today was a good day, finishing out a fairly good week.

My Fridays are always a bit easier to swallow than the other weekdays. While I must rise early, my eight o'clock class eighth-form class is both the beginning and end of the school day for me. Despite an epic battle between my alarm clock and my dreams, I managed to get out the door in time. On my way to school, ignoring the frost and biting breeze, I observed the year's first bright red squirrel bounding down a tree on some dangerous mission, its strangely long ears and scraggly tail bringing a smile to my face. I seem to remember hearing a bird slamming its beak into some nearby tree, as well. Ah, so spring my finally have arrived! Indeed, small buds were even beginning to push forth on the tips of small tree branches.

The rest of my Friday mornings are spent teaching English to a group of adults at a local social services organization. Teaching this group is extremely fun for me -- partly because the "students" are much more engaged and interested in their studies, but also because I have the opportunity to socially interact with people who are not younger than me. A fringe benefit that is worth noting, is that I am not restricted by any National Curriculum, and can thus teach pertinent material at whatever pace is most appropriate. Teaching English outside of the classroom has rapidly become my preferred mode.

This Friday class is relatively new. Today, it tripled in size to an impressive head-count of nine. Among the new attendees was a priest, who I hadn't seen in town before. At the end of class, I asked him which church he was with, and he informed me that he is actually the priest at a nearby monastery. I told him that I have been on the edge of my seat to visit some of the monasteries around my town, and he immediately offered to show me around his.

After a short 10 km drive, we stepped through a great iron gate and onto the modest monastery ground. In fact, we entered the convent, for this was home to a devote group of women, and the only men were the two or three priests and some helpers (such as our chauffeur). The priest explained the history of the 200-year-old community and convent, including the Soviet decades in which the churches had served as a sport center and a night club.

The monastery was practically destroyed during the Soviet period, but it received official support again in 1994. It wasn't until 2003 that work began to restore the main church. The project, supported by local communities and the larger church, was finished a year later. This smaller church was not as badly damaged and will wait for the relatively minor repairs it needs. Seeing both of these churches, hearing the history of the monastery, speaking with the priest, and seeing some few aspects of daily life among the women -- all of these were exceptional treats for me, and I look forward to further conversation with the priest.

It seems that the coming of spring may bring budding social opportunities, in addition to furry squirrels, flowering trees, and (hopefully) warm weather.

A long overdue review (Part I)

It's been almost a month since my last post, and I can't believe how time has flown by. Since that last post, much has happened, the highlights of which I will now recount. Without cheating and reading the last post, I think I can remember that it was a failed attempt to convey some wonder of my short vacation in Romania. Let's start again, shall we?

Vacation started on December 25, just in time to enjoy what Moldovans refer to as 'new calendar Christmas' -- the celebration of a certain savior's birth according to the Gregorian calendar, as distinguished from the slightly later celebration of the same event according to the Julian calendar (the 'old calendar Christmas'). For Moldovans, this wasn't much a problem. Most Moldovans celebrate Christmas according to both calendars, but the celebration is drastically different. Imagine a Christmas without all the wild consumerism, without the spiked eggnog, and without highly-decorated fire hazards in the central room of every house in the neighborhood. That's Moldovan Christmas, as far as I can tell. I wasn't in attendance at any Christmas parties or family celebration, but I got the sense that it is considered primarily a religious holiday here. Imagine that. There were concerts in Chisinau and enormous Christmas trees in city centers everywhere, and the street decor was impressive (although almost impossible to capture on camera without getting hit by passing buses and such). But whatever flare and craze we Americans exhibit during the Christmas season, Moldovans seem to save that for bringing in the New Year -- which is good, because they do it twice (new calendar, old calendar).

I know many Americans were put off by the inception date of vacation, as it ruined many a plan to spend Christmas somewhere outside of Moldova. I, on the other hand, enjoyed staying at home and calling my family to wish them a merry one, half a world away. Christmas is a good time in my family, but not being huge consumers or extremely religious, it is mostly just an opportunity to huddle together, drink hot spiced cider, admire the fire hazard in the sitting room, and sing traditional 'American' carols (many of which actually come from Eastern Europe). I spent a few days in Chisinau with somebody special, and then boarded a train bound, eventually, for Romania.

My first impressions of Romania included smooth roads, relatively spacious country-side, and cities apparently governed by the somewhat more noticeable presence of coherent building codes and urban planning. Romania is part of the European Union, so their relative financial stability and development (compared with those of Moldova) probably account for most of these first impressions. However, it is important to point out that my vacation did not wander beyond the borders of Moldova. Let me explain. In medieval times, Moldavia was a relatively small territory that I don't quite have the right word for. Principality, maybe? As with the Romans, traditional Moldovan culture abhorred mention of a 'king' and therefore referred to their medieval heads of state as what English-speaking people would call 'rulers' or 'lords'. Thus, it couldn't have been a kingdom. Wikipedia says 'Principality', so let's go with that. Moldavia no longer exists. Most of the eastern half is where I live (the Republic of Moldova); regions in the north and south belong to the Ukraine; and most of the western half served as the host to my Romania vacation. My vacation party consisted of me and four of my friendly Peace Corps colleagues.

First stop was in Suceava, a large town and raion (district) center in Northeast Romania. The town is absolutely gorgeous and absolutely worth the trip. Lacking excessive industrial build-up, Suceava instead enjoys aesthetic and historical plenitude. As is common in this region of the world, the raion center is surrounded by several handfuls of small villages, monasteries, and more farmland or empty terrain than you can shake a stick at. One of the stunning sites we visited is the Voroneţ monastery, considered by many to be the little-known treasure of this part of the world. The church at the Voroneţ monastery was constructed in the 15th century by none other than Stefan cel Mare (Stephan the Great, the single most important figure in Moldovan history), and is remarkable for its detailed frescoes covering not only the walls and ceiling of the interior, but also the entire exterior.

Following the visit to Voroneţ, my colleagues and I stopped at the remains of the Citadel of Suceava, where Stefan cel Mare and his peers sat on the throne overlooking their beloved Moldova. This was my first visit to an actual castle of the non-sand variety. Much of the castle was destroyed, and while I haven't done my research to find out how, I would guess it had something to do with the Ottoman Turks. Still, much of the castle remains, including what I think was the sanctuary of the chapel, which catches the light of the setting Sun in a most striking and indescribable way. My post-castle sentiment was one of wonder that we, with all our modern technology and materials, build our structures today to last 40 or 50 years. The Suceava citadel would still be standing today (and probably in pretty damn good condition) had the Turks not torn it down.

Visiting Suceava in the Winter was beautiful, but I would love to return when the vast tracts of land are covered in various shades of life and the people can frolic around without the burden of heavy coats and perilous sheets of ice.

Next came Iaşi, a large municipality that served as a more modern capital for the region before it was unified with Wallacia and Transylvania to form what we now know as Romania. While Iaşi is certain no London or Moscow in size, it still has the feel of age and regality, as well as that of practicality and industry. My stay in Iaşi was, perhaps, tainted by two unfortunate facts: our hotel was woefully suburban, meaning long and expensive taxi-rides to get anywhere interesting; and I was there for New Year celebrations and the days following, in which the entire city was virtually out-of-order. However, these two misfortunes did not stop my travel-buddies and I from enjoying the exterior visual pleasures of the city. The Church of the Three Hierarchs and the Metropolitan Cathedral of Moldova were absolutely unparalleled by any other religious structures I have yet seen (but I've also never been to Paris, for that matter). The Palace of Culture certainly demanded an hour-long photo shoot, despite the fact that the inside was closed.

One aspect of Iaşi that we Peace Corps Moldova volunteers celebrate is its Pizza Hut. I don't much care for Pizza Hut in the States, due to the poor quality of food and suspect service. However, the Pizza Hut in Iaşi was truly as close as any fast-food establishment can possibly come to being gourmet. From beautiful ambiance to friendly, sit-down service to wine recommendations on the pizza menu -- this must have been the king of all Pizza Huts.

With that, I'll take a short break, and pick up the review with my post-Romania adventures. Look for the follow-up (Part II) to this post in the next few days. It's a busy week for me, but I'll make sure to squeeze in some blog time, somewhere.

Sistine Chapel of the East

I had grown accustomed to the quiet smallness of Moldovan life, before this trip to neighboring Romania. Upon entering Romania, the first observation among my colleagues and I was the non-bumpiness of the road. Shortly thereafter, we also made note of the relative scarcity of the Romanian population. Moldova is one of the most densely populated countries in Europe, with some 4.1 million people in under 34,000 km², while the 22.2 million Romanians enjoy over 238,000 km². (Moldova density, 122/km²; Romania density, 93/km²; USA density, 31/km²) But adjusting to the rarefied geography took little time. I moved on to more lasting impressions, such as the grandeur of the religious edifices and the brilliant plasticity of colorful Romanian lei.

Mai departe...

Today, my fellow travelers and I inched slightly closer to the Carpathians, finally emerging from our taxi (read: clown car) in the small town of Voronet. The journey there included smile-inducing passages through forests, near craggy rock outcroppings, and over snow-covered, rolling hills. The Voronet monastery is its small church, a 'Sistine Chapel of the East.' I'll leave the back-story of this church to the good people at Wikipedia and Lonely Planet. I'd also like to leave further Sistine Chapel comparisons for those who have actually seen both. I will say, however, that the frescos on this church were impressive beyond well beyond my expectations. The church is small compared to the enormous towers and cupolas of more modern Orthodox buildings, but Voronet's humble form and splayed, Romanian-style roof still manage to capivate its visitors, who stroll in slow arcs as though sneaking through the classical wing of a musem.

Pictures to come. I'd love to continue this post, but my fellow travelers seem to enjoy loud conversations -- loud, probably so they can hear each other over the TV nobody's watching. There is much to share, but I'll wait until I can hear my own thoughts, instead of hacking out this poor-quality nonsense.