Eat, Sleep, Love: The 3 most important verbs I have learned in Russian



I was in charge of folding the napkins...eat your heart out Martha ;)

 



The masa spread







Birthday gal (my host sister) Diana with her Godparent's grandson, Lucas



During my first meal with my host family my host mother motioned with her hands, “Kuchite, Kuchite”, so I knew off the bat what it meant. I thought I would focus most of this post on the food I am enjoying here in Moldova thus far. Again, my first word was dill (ukrop) and first verb: EAT!

"A house is not a home unless it contains food and fire for the mind as well as the body." -Benjamin Franklin

Fun new foods. The foods that have made it into this post are sweet, of course. The first is chocolate flavored butter, or butter with cocoa and sugar. Spread on a piece of hleb (bread) with a cup of tea or cofee…heaven! The coffee situation is improving. Myself, an on and off coffee drinker, while learning Russian and adjusting to a new time zone, I have found that it is now indeed an “on” time for coffee. At first my, and all of my classmates families, were giving us instant coffee. This seems to be the norm here in Moldova. So we went with it. Considering Starbuck’s new move into instant coffees we knew this stuff existed. What we didn’t know, but soon became quite aware of, was that these instant coffees (particularly the green-labeled stuff that seemed to be served in every household AND at our Peace Corps hub days in Chisanau) didn’t have much, if any, caffeine. What were we going to do?!? WELL…talk about thought power, the very day our Russian teacher, Dasha, told us of this issue, I came home and as I washed my hands at the kitchen sink caught of glimpse of something very promising on the counter: a French press! Eureka! My host sister informed me that her mother had picked it up at the bizarre that very day. Sometimes you really do get just what you need.
 
On to the halva. A tradition food in many cultures, the halva here in Moldova is made of sunflower seeds.  Sunflowers are one of Moldova’s main crops. Moldovans proudly use sunflower oil in their cooking (a step up from Canola oil if you ask me), crunch on sunflower seeds, and have this ridiculously delicious sweet hunk of sunflower heaven halva. It seems to be just seeds ground with sugar and made into a thick, dry paste. Eating it alone reminds me of the inside of a Butterfinger…only with no artificial flavors or colors and the sweet nutty flavor of the seeds of sun. I asked Diana if they were cubing this stuff and dipping it in chocolate. She didn’t know and hadn’t ever seen it. I have now confirmed that if there is no one doing this we have a business plan to get working on (#2 next to the tea shop idea which I will discuss in another post). I am not sure where else you can get your hands on the stuff, besides Ukraine and Russia. Seems like a pretty good reason to visit Moldova to me…?


Yesterday was my host sister, Diana’s, 20th birthday. This meant preparing LOTS of food to share with guests. One of the most famous Moldovan dishes is plachenta (Pa-Russki is pronounced: plats-yenta) which is a thin, layered dough stuffed with savory or sweet fillings and baked.  It reminds me of a Dutch treat my grandmother makes with almond paste called bonket.  My host family seems to make it mostly with cabbage and dill or cheese and dill (maybe they are skipping the meat for me...) but for the party made it sweet with the halva and veeshnya (sour cherries-very good).

Cpot*.  Sleep.  So very important. My sleep has been tak cebye or so-so. Sometimes I have trouble to fall asleep because it is light here until about 10pm and then once the sun is down, the dogs throughout the neighborhoods seem to like to flex their barking skills. And then there are the dreams pa-Russki. My dreams filled with Russian words I am learning. I toss and turn, "Spasiba, Pajowlsta"….Sleep is when we are restored. Our cells and replaced, our organs detoxified. It is important and so I list it here. Eat, Sleep and….


Lubyet*.  Love. Of course. Do I really need to explain this one?


Om tat sat.

*Do note that these are transliterations and I do plan at some point to start using the cyrillic alphabet for my Russian words (also followed by transliteration of course!)




Platcentya with veeshnya & roll with halva

Stomp a Frog and Kiss the Moon

So the other night Diana and I went for a walk and when we arrived almost to the front gate of the house, we were stopped short by a little dog and a neighbor's hello.  In my halt, I felt/heard something crackle and break under the weight of my foot.  While at first I thought it was some sort of very thin glass bottle, Diana soon confirmed that I had completely squashed a frog.  "Oh my gosh!"  I hadn't even seen any frogs and didn't think this possible.  My over-analytical mind sped right into action, "What does this mean?"

We scrambled into the house both giggling but me in some shock over this death.  "Oh no, do I have some bad karma to step on him?  I feel so bad...if I hadn't stopped so suddenly it wouldn't have happened...blah, blah blah" I say to Diana.  She laughs and in her 19-year-old wisdom says with a smile, "Or it is his bad karma".  Uh-huh.  Right.  The world doesn't revolve around me...

In a continuation of mystic events, the next evening as we were headed to bed, my host mother ran into the hallway and knocked on our doors saying something in Romanian and then Diana quickly translated, "The moon, it's an eclipse!"  And so off we went to the street to watch the moon disappear behind a dark shade of orange, then brown and almost to black.  It is these moments, when I am in complete awe of the Universe, that I am humbled in the sense that I am but a speck.  And yet my "speckness" has all of the potential to create, love and transform.  Watching the same moon as those I love all around the world brings it home.  We are never too small nor too far to love, it is the greatest thing we can "do". 

Om Tat Sat.  Dobre Noche! 

Baby Steps

I had a little laugh the other day with my host mother and sister about my "first word".  The day I arrived in their kitchen, I saw a bunch of dill on the counter and said "Yum...dill!  I love dill!".  My host mom smiled and said "ukrop".  And so it was.  Like a small child just learning to speak, I had my first word.  And quite appropriately for this food-loving yogini that it was the declicious and cooling herb I love and that happens to be in a LOT of Moldovan dishes.

There are many moments like this that derive a laugh about how funny I sound, a grown woman speaking like a small child.  And just as such, there are (and will be) as many moments (and much more intense surely) where it is not quite so "cute" and I am frustrated and feel quite "stupid".  It sounds trite, but the Peace Corps experience is all about turning the tables... understanding what it's like to be an outsider and learning how to integrate into an entirely foriegn community all in the name of peace and friendship...and here I go.  But you really cannot imagine or understand this process until your are IN it.  I could read the handbook one hundred times and still not comprehend what it's actually like to go through it.  But I am now.  It's here.  The "vacation period" is over.

Today has been my first "one of those" days.  It's not exactly a "bad" day at all.  Nothing has happened to make me upset per se.  It's more as though I am hitting a sort of energetic wall.  Up until now, I was likely operating off of a lot of adrenaline.  In yoga, we refer to lifeforce energy as prana.  (This is the energy that makes a person living vs. dead, a fresh fruit vs. rotten ect.  We get prana from breathing, running water, fresh foods and sunlight).  And  so I was using a lot of prana to get through my days of meeting new people, settling into a new home, navigating through a new town, and beginning to learn a new language.  And that has hit me today.  Big time. 

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A few summers ago I worked as a produce buyer in a small resort town in coastal Maine.  Two of my coworkers/roommates were girls from Kyrgyzstan who spoke Russian and were in the U.S. make some money and improve their English skills.  I can recall days when they would really drag.  They would tell me they were so tired and would sometimes just hole up in their rooms only coming out to use the bathroom or get some food.  I could see the exhaustion in their eyes, and now my compassion for them is even stronger.  It's not until now that I completely understand why they were so tired.  Trying to think and communicate in a second language is plain exhausting.  Just the act of  "hanging around" when you don't speak the language requires ample amounts of prana.  This is hitting me.  Just as at the ashram we were often warned not to fall into a pattern of tamas (inertia or laziness), Peace Corps warns us not to get used to just going to our rooms and hiding out.  This is not a way to integrate.  Of course we have to take care of the self/Self and get ample rest and give the mind a break, but one simply cannot get used to just turning off as it is so tempting to do.  There is too much life to share.   

The old Peace Corps saying, "The hardest job you'll ever love"?  Yes...I can see why.  It requires so much patience, humility and prana.  My plan for now is to try to amp up my yoga asanas (physical exercise) and pranayama (breathing exercises to obtain more prana through breath, or in other words, taking in more oxygen to each and every cell).  This was my training on how to live fully and now I am really being put to the test.  I will fail often but can only grow stronger. 

Now?  Well, I want to go to sleep.  But instead I will go to a futball game in town with my host sister, Diana, and some of the other trainees here in Cricova.  The time with them will provide prana for my heart.

Hari Om Tat Sat. (for those of you new here, this is Sankskrit and essentially means "All that is Truth" and though I don't say that my truth is That truth, it is my truth...hope that makes sense!) 

***The pictures above are my big rain boots in the garden and Diana picking strawberries.  I think we have about one or two harvests left of these and the cherries.

Welcome to Moldova

The trip started a bit easier for me as our staging took place in Philadelphia. I finished packing around 8AM on Monday morning and ran off to CVS for the 4 extra passport photos I had just read that I would need. I also decided to print out some photos to share with my host family: my family, our home, me doing yoga ect. Back to the house, last pack and look around…butterflies.


The trip was as could be expected: long and heavy. As in I always seem to carry too much “stuff”. Something I still have to learn. My only slip-up was leaving my liquids on the security belt in Munich. I realized this at our gate as we were preparing to board for Chisinau and I wanted to spray my face with the fruit enzyme spray I got in my MyChelle sample pack. I looked quickly to the flight attendant…can I go? Fast? YES! Boy did I run. Those small, organic, natural products were too precious to lose. The security men were expecting me. I grabbed, smiled and ran back to my small and stuffy plane to arrive on a hot day in Moldova, my new home
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The best way to describe the days that followed our arrival is the following: exhausted delight. It was great to finally meet many of the volunteers who were providing guidance as we packed and it was amazing to be spending the time with the people I consider my new family. But at the same time, I was so exhausted that I could only muster up a version of myself. I hope you can feel my love through my eyes.


My first big surprise came when I found out that I would be part of the volunteer group learning to speak Russian. (Only 8 of us out of 54). I am doing my Pre-Service Training (PST) in the village of Cricova, which is predominately Russian. At first I was disappointed. I had told myself for months that I would be learning Romanian and that it was a good thing because it is a Romantic language and my proficiency in it would assist me in learning French, Spanish ect. BUT, my yoga swept right in and told me that all is for the best and to TRUST. This will be a great challenge indeed. For now I am seeing it as a game. Learn as much as I can, do my best.


My host family in Cricova is wonderful! My host parents speak only Romanian and Russian (though only Russian with me) and I have a sister here, Diana. She is twenty and speaks English very well so she is our translator. This makes things MUCH easier but is good and bad as I can depend on her to tell her parents what I am thinking and vise versa. Cricova is famous for their wine, made in the champagne style. Apparently Senator John McCain made a visit to the winery last night!


Foods I am eating: fresh cucumbers, tomatoes, dill, strawberries, cherries, chocolate, coffee, bread, honey, butter, cabbage….I will tell you all of their names “Po Russki” at another time.


Tonight Diana and I picked cherries and I will bring them to my lessons tomorrow to share with my new friends. My life is so blessed with friends…you, them, the ones to come. Today, I am full of gratitude. I know that at times the feeling of gratitude will be challenged in ways I cannot foresee nor imagine. I will come back and look at this bowl of cherries I share with you. It is the people I meet who are the fruits of my labor.


Hari Om tat sat.

Q) Why Am I Doing the Peace Corps?

10:53 PM, Sheraton Hotel, Univeristy City, Philadelphia

This is a question I get often.  This is a question I have had to ask myself as well and whose answer I am still developing.  It's multilayered. 

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Sitting up in a queen sized bed with four fluffy pillows preparing for my last slumber stateside for at least a year.  My belly is full from a meal from one of my favorite mexican restaurants.  I suspect I won't have mexican food for a long time.  I suspect I won't have a queen sized bed, air conditioning (rather I KNOW this), safe water right from the tap, for a long time.  And that's OK by me.

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I read a couple of blogs out there in cyberspace and follow a bunch of people on Twitter, some of whom have referred to the topic of "digital blank slating".  This is when one erases their blog archives, removes themself from most social networks and starts anew...online.  That's not enough for me.   I am just doing it the regular old fashioned way and physically going somewhere totally new.

But why? 

This answer will continue to develop.  What I can tall you for now is this:

A)  I am doing the Peace Corps simply because I can.  I can due to circumstance, and I can because my heart and mind allow and encourage me to do so.  Not all of us can do this I know...but that part of you that wants to...I invite with me. 

Om shant with love.  See you in Moldova!

EMotion --> DEVotion

Yes, I am still organizing/packing.  It really goes like this:
Collect, scatter, review, pile, repeat. 

Until FINALLY some things are out the door, in a box, at the curb, in the hands of loved ones, or in my suitcase.  As I am preparing for this next big journey (of which I will write more thouroughly about tomorrow...I am still developing my words to express precicely why I am choosing to take this next step/challenge), I am going through a multitude of emotions.  I am suprisingly calm finding  most of my fear/anxiety directed towards packing.  I feel that I did already do a lot of my emotional work in the past two years at the ashram, and with various teachers and healers.  Lots and lots of letting go.  We all have to do it at one point or another.  Maybe I needed that good two years of clearing to be able to face what is to come over the next two years? I felt sorrow, pain, regret, remorse.  I felt good, bad, high, low.  The key is that I FELT. 

Feelings are what motivates me to make choices.  Some of us move more from the head, and some from the heart.  Emotions can be tricky but should never be completely ignored.  Rather they must be experienced and then moved.  Cannot stay stuck.  How long we experience them is up to us.  One of the forms of Yoga, Bhakti, is all about taking emotions and transmuting them into DEvotion.  Through art, singing, writing, prayer, one can offer their pain, sadness, joy and every other rainbow of emotion so that it is not stuck in the body and soul.  Life needs to flow.

And so, on sorrow.  I found this poem the other day on a loose peice of lined yellow legal paper.  I think I wrote this in college...I transmuted my sorrow into words:

Sorrow is a wicked game
Creeps us and I'm tagged
Unbeatable at times it seems
Persists and never lags

I wish no sorrow for this world
And for myself to say
I'm in a battle constantly
To find the good each day

So lonely at times
In a world so full
Please help me God to see
The wonder of the gift of life
So I may let it be

Om shanti shanti shanti.