The Botosani Philharmonic

Yesterday I traveled to the city of Botosani which is the county seat of Botosani county in the plains of north-east Moldova. Romanians from other counties treat Botosani like Americans treat Arkansas. There are numerous jokes concerning the poor driving of Botosanites and their living in Romania's reserve county.
Despite these deprecations, Botosani has a soccer team, an almost 24 hour marketplace, a pizza place run by an actual Italian and a Philharmonic.
Last night I went to the Philharmonic with a couple of volunteers who work in the reserve counties seat.
We filed into our faded dusty-rose velour covered square seats with the soundtrack of musicians warming up behind the stage.
Soon the members of the Philharmonic paraded on stage and took their seats, playing a few more practice cords while waiting for the conductor.
The conductor was Ilarion Ionescu-Galati. He walked onto the old wooden platform, stooped with a slight limp-twitch in his right leg, silver haired. He wore a dark maroon jacket. It was laced to halfway up his neck with black kimono-style buttons. Around his neck was a short bolo tie and the material widened into puffed sleeves at the shoulder. Anne of Green Gables might be jealous of this man's sleeves. Domnul Ionescu-Galati pulled off the look and made it distinguished to boot.
The musicians were talented, the conductor gracious, and the solo cellist danced his head to the music that was smoothly flowing from his bow.
I often listen to classical music on my laptop. It is a different experience to see the music, not coming from a battered square silver box, but from a multitude of delicate wooden instruments and horse hairs. Twenty bows going up down up down in unison.

Doamne de Engleza

I was gingerly walking home on the icy road on Tuesday when I passed a few seven year olds milling around in front of a neighbor's house, each standing next to a flexible-flyer type sled. As I passed by, they respectfully saluted me
"sarut mana"
"buna ziua" I responded as I walked by.
Behind me I heard whisperings. "Uite. Asta e profesoara de Engleza." (That's the English teacher).
"Nu. nu cred." ( No. I don't believe you)
"ba da" (is too)
By now I was several meters in front of the children and I heard them pick up their pace, their sleds' scraping-on-ice noises becoming louder.
"Buna" said one of the boys, who I recognized as one of my kindergarten students, Ionuti.
"Buna ziua. Ce faci?" (Hello, what are you doing?)
"Mergem cu sanie." (we're going sledding)
"Pe parte dreapte sau pe parte stange?" (Towards the right or left fork of the road?)
By now, all three are walking abreast with me.
"Pe dreapta" (to the right)
"E bine acolo" (it's good over there).
I continue my small talk until I reach my gate. "Distractia placuta" (have a good time), I tell them, as I start to turn towards my driveway.
"Doamna, el nu ma crede ca esti Doamna de engleza" (Mrs, he doesn't believe me that you are the English Misses) my kindergarten student blurts out.
I look at the doubting thomas. "Sunt Doamna de Engleza" (I am the English Misses).
Ionuti looks at me with satisfaction and turns up the hill with his sled and his friends.

casting

Applying for graduate school is like fishing for a frog prince. I spend hours casting my google searches until I find a school that I fall in love with and imagine myself meandering across the campus grounds so beautifully photographed on the welcome page. I painstakingly give them my detailed information, find contact information for various references and write an eloquent but honest personal statement about how certain classes on the course schedule would fit my exact needs and desires. But will the frog turn into a prince?
So in my uncertainty, I turn back to the sea of google...

tooting my own horn

Last week, my 8th graders learned how to write a thank you letter. Their homework assignment was to write a thank-you letter to one of their teachers who has impacted them. A couple of the letters were for me:

Dear Rachel
I thank you for teaching us English. You are a great teacher. With you English seems to be so easy. I'm sorry if I wasn't so good as you were expecting. Thank you because you are so patient.
That club in English that you made for us, it is great.
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to share American culture.
Thank you for coming in our country to teach us English.
Yours Sincerely, Lavinia

Dear Miss Rachel,
Thank you immensely for that this year we have progressed in English and that only thanks to you. I am very sorry that you will leave soon as it was and still is an excellent collaboration. If you were not here I would not have the knowledge that I know now. In the near future we will get together if you will of course come to Romania because I do not think I will go to America. As I understand you will go on to do master in your native land. I hope that you will come back.
Thank you once again,
Of your student Andrei

Booyah-kasha

dove

A peace corps volunteer who lives near me received a package in which were, among other items, a package of dove heart chocolates.
These chocolates were wrapped in shiny foil with hearts on the outside and Martha Steward quotes on the inside.

"To start a romantic fire, crisscross kindling on top of newspaper." -Martha Stewart

If this is how you start a romantic fire, I have to ask, how do you start a regular fire? with squared kindling on top of newspapers?
Also, Ms. Stewart, not to be rude, but you're romantic fire will only last you as long as a french kiss.

valentine's ball

Following the successful Halloween and Christmas parties at my school, students asked if I could help with a Valentine's day party. Several 7th grade girls, actually. While the student council's party committee were the designated decorators, friday night before the party, twice as many students showed up to decorate the school's gym as were required.
We cut heart shapes out of pink construction paper and taped them to the wall, we strung up red lights and the crowning achievement was the big pink heart outlined in red christmas lights.
The Valentine's party was sparsely attended, due in part to the heavy snowing. We danced the Brasoveanca, Pinguini, and Macarena at least 3 times each, interspersed between a variety of games and snack breaks. These are group dances that are typically danced at least once at any wedding, barbecue, dance.

8th graders setting up the speakers



The light-lined heart and dance floor



7th grade boys scared to dance volunteered for the food table



Macarena hair



Me and a fellow teacher in the Penguini line-up:
right foot, right foot, left foot, left foot, two hops forward, one hop back
repeat for 8 minutes



Middle school is grand, especially if you're the only boy with the guts to dance

who cooks

Last night, I was chatting in the kitchen with Gabi and Ciprian.
We were talking about my trip to Vatra Dornei that morning, to go skiing.
"So, when you visit other volunteers, do you cook or do they cook for you?" Gabi asked me.
At first, I was confused by the question. Well, of course if you invite people over you cook for them. But I was stopped on this train of thought when I remembered the majority of my visitors...
When Natalie visits me, she typically makes the coffee
When Dave Pi visits, meals are a joint effort.
When Mark came over this summer, he demonstrated his potato frying skills.
When Baddorf comes, if he doesn't cook, he always does the dishes.
"Typically, we cook together. Like when I was in Cimpulung a few weeks ago and we all stood around the oven, stirring something," I responded. "But, people cooking for me might be pretty specific to me. I know how to cook, but if others want too..."
"Rachel likes to sit back and watch," Ciprian commented.
"I was just asking out of curiosity, because when people visit me, I always cook, and I noticed it's not that way when you have visitors."
"It is not something with American cultural," I said. "It's me."
Or the volunteer culture.