One Week in Moldova

By

Nicholas Kurtz



INTRODUCTION

I suppose a little background information is in order before I delve into this tale. About 9 months ago, while traveling the vast expanses of cyberspace, I met a young Moldavian woman by the name of Mariana. I don't remember exactly what we talked about the first few conversations we had, but I remember not having any clue as to where her country was. All I knew was that it was part of the former Soviet Republic. Well, we became friends and chatted with each other whenever we were both online, getting to know more and more about each other and forming a closer relationship. She referred to me as her brother as time wore on, and I regarded her as a sister as well.

Work and vacation took me away from my nightly internet excursions at home for a couple of months, and Mariana and I had not talked in some time. When next I heard from her, I was quite suprised to learn that she had met a man, fallen in love, and become engaged, all in a very short time. His name was Mark, an American working at a foreign embassy. They met online as well, hit it off, and after flying to Moldova to meet her face to face, Mark asked Mariana to marry him, and she said yes! She related this news to me with all the excitement of a young girl head over heels in love, and I was very happy for her.

The conversation was not ten minutes old when she told me she would like to have me attend the wedding as an honored guest. I was a bit nervous and suprised to say the least. I still had no idea where Moldova was, never having bothered to look at a map, and I was wary of flying to another country to attend the wedding of someone I had never met. But if there's one thing I've developed in three years of military service, it's an itch for traveling with little provokation. I figured, "I've got some leave time saved up, a little bit of money sitting in the bank, work is pretty slow right now, and it's the end of summer. Why not?" I told Mariana I would be honored to attend, and would let her know as soon as my leave got approved.



The wedding was scheduled for August 28th, which gave me a little over a month to prepare for my trip. I bought round trip plane tickets, scheduled my leave, and went to Venice to purchase a gift for the happy couple. Anticipation of my Eastern European adventure built inside me as time drew nearer to the trip. Coworkers thought I was a bit crazy when I told them what I was planning. Admittedly, there was an element of danger in what I was doing. How could I be 100% sure that Mariana was who she said she was? I had seen pictures of her, and of Mark, which she sent me through email, and we even sent each other text messages on our phones from time to time. But I had never actually heard her voice or had any other concrete proof that who I was chatting with was who they claimed to be. But I trusted her, and I trusted God that nothing bad would happen. My mind was made up that I was going to travel, alone, to a tiny country wedged between Romania and Ukraine, to take part in the wedding ceremony of two complete strangers. And little did I know, I was going to have some of the best experiences of my life doing it.



DAY 1:

26 August:1000 hrs. Depart Venice 1130 hrs. Arrive Budapest. The first leg of my journey as noted on my itniterary from Sky Club. As I always do, I spent the entire night before awake, and didn't even start packing until almost 4am. The king of procrastination, I never sleep the night before I fly because I'm scrambling to pack, I'm too excited to lay down, and it ensures at least some rest on the planes. I wake my roomate Louis up at 6:30 to let him know it's time to get ready to take me to the Airport. Through the half asleep, drool drenched string of nonsense that was my reply, I could tell my plucky sidekick was not ecstatic about seeing me off. I made sure my bags were packed with everything I needed, which wasn't a problem since I ALWAYS overpack. I jumped in the shower while Louis stumbled downstairs and thoughtfully made me some sandwiches for my trip.

Once I was dressed and the bags were all closed up, it was time to get on the road. The weather was completely insane outside. Strong wind and rain pummeled the flowers in my courtyard which had made the mistake of blossoming to soke up the early morning sun which wan't there. Louis planned ahead for the trip by leaving his car windows rolled down so our seats would be nice and cool for the long ride. He gracioulsy offered me a slightly-less-wet-than-the-seats towel to sit on for the one hour trip to Venice. The driver's side window of Louis' car doesn't roll up, so we didn't have to waste any gas running the air conditioning, and I regretted taking a shower at my house since I got a second one on the way to the airport.

We made our way south on the Autostrada listening to Jim Morrison and Guns and Roses while Louis talked about big plans for the future and I drifted in and out of consiousness. We were both wailing out the high notes of "Paradise City" when we rolled up to the departures terminal at Marco Polo Airport in Venice. I grabbed my bags, thanked Louis for the ride, reminded him of when I needed to be picked up, and walked to the check in counter with wet trousers clinging to my butt. I was very excited to get in the air, for the first 5 minutes at least.

A kind lady at the check in informed me that there was a 20 kilo weight limit per passenger, which I had exceeded by about 13 kilos, and I would need to part with 85 euros to cover the charge. Oh happy day! For those who don't know, at the current exchange rate, that was around $100 for a couple bottles of wine and a small transformer that was weighing down my bags. I was not very happy, and downright perturbed when I got onto a half empty plane. Had I brought ten times as much luggage we still would not have been in danger of exceeding the aircraft's safe operating weight limit. I didn't have too much time to be upset about it because I passed out soon after buckling my seatbelt. I didn't even remember the takeoff, and when I woke up we were in our final approach. Ahhh, the only way to fly.

I arrived in Budapest, Hungary right on time at 11:30 and had a little over an hour wait until my connecting flight to Moldova. I found a seat at my gate and waited, fell asleep, woke up, and waited some more. They don't call the place Hungary for nothing. I was starved. Then I remembered the kind gesture of my roomate who'd made me sandwiches. Louis carefully placed them in a layer of tin foil so they would stay fresh. I had them tucked away in my messenger bag, and now it was time to feast. Oh, how I could taste the turkey, cheese, mayonaise and mustard delights that awaited me. I opened the tin foil to find Louis had graciously secured my lunch in roughly three feet of duct tape. Oooohhh boy, that's rich. It was too good of a prank for me to get mad. I threw my head back with the crazed laughter of a man stuck in a foreign airport who hadn't slept in a day or eaten in that same span. Other hapless terminal transients looked on in what could only have been complete befuddlement as I began to tear into the duct tape. Half crushed sandwiches and a post it note were my reward when I finally opened the package. "Dear Nick, you Suck. Louis." Those sandwiches were good though.

Finally it was time to board the small runway bus that took us to the airplane. I got on the plane and was then on my way farther East into Europe than I had ever been. Of course I didn't realize this, because I fell asleep again before the plane was airborne. One hour and some slight drool on my shoulder later, we were landing in Chishinau (Kee-Shee-Now), the capital city of Moldova, where I was to spend the next 7 days of my life.

Everyone who visits Moldova needs to buy a special visa to enter the country, so I waited in line and paid the $60 price for admission. I guess you're also supposed to bring a small passport type photo with you to put on it, but I didn't know, and they didn't hassle me about it. I grabbed my bags off the conveyer belt and walked through customs, looking for Mariana's brother Victor, who was supposed to be picking me up. I couldn't quite recall what he looked like, but I figured he'd be able to pick me out since I was about a foot taller than everyone else in the building for some reason. It didn't take long for Victor to find me, and he greeted me with a great big grin, hearty handshake, and suprisingly good english. He brought with him his friend Vioriel, a young orthodox priest and friend of the family who didn't speak any english, but greeted me in broken Italian. When I replied to him in Italian, he sheepishly turned to Victor to have him explain to me that that was all the Italian he knew. Gotta love the guy for trying!

I could instantly tell I had friends in these guys. They grabbed my bags without even asking and walked me out of the Airport to hail a cab for a 20 minute ride into the city. The weather there was very nice, warm with a slight breeze, not unlike my home in North Eastern Italy. I could see rolling hills dotted with small houses and villages surrounding the larger metropolis of Chishinau. We got into the cab and made our way to the city, and I experienced some of the craziest and most dangerous drivers ever. And I live in Italy. Some of the streets and roads had no lane division lines, so people just invented their own, weaving in and out and around other cars in their paths. Pedestrians seemed to tempt fate with each step across streets deprived of crosswalks. Mercedes 10-passenger buses (the best means of local public transportation) darted around everywhere, packed to the gills with people.

This city was not at all what I expected, not as though I really knew what to expect in the first place. Mariana described to me poor people in the streets and dirty, run down buildings. I didn't really see any of that. As we drove on, Victor played the part of tour guide. We passed through the "Gates of Chishinau", two large, white apartment buildings that sat on either side of the main street leading into the city. Sure, this place looked like what you'd imagine a city to look like after having spent 50 or so years in the shadow of a Stalinist regime. Large, well built structures that weren't being maintained and looked rather shabby and run down from the outside. Sculptures of dark, monolithic figures stood on street corners and in front of buildings, all with blank expressions on faces that looked towards a future communist society that would never be realized. And gorgeous women everywhere. Huh?

Wait a minute. Nobody told me that this place was full of runway models. I must have looked a fool as I kept craning my neck around in the back seat of this Russian taxi to get a longer look at each of these marvelous looking women. I can't explain it, maybe something in the water, but there was a higher concentration of downright jaw droppingly beautiful women in this place than anywhere I have ever been in the world. Reason number 1 why I'm going back there someday.

The taxi wound its way through downtown and slightly uphill to a residential area and stopped in front of a small brown gate. Victor paid the driver while Vioriel and grabbed my bags out of the trunk. We opened the gate which revealed a narrow cement staircase under a canopy of grape vines which lead down about 40 feet into a small courtyard, and the front door of the small house where I would be staying. This was a very old, yet cozy little domicile. Directly across from the doorway was a tiny kitchen with just a sink, small table with two chairs, a few cupboards, and a window overgrown with grape vines. On the table lay a few bunches of bananas and bottled water, which Victor offered me. I accepted and took my bags through the living room area which had a large, intricate rug hanging on the wall above a couch, into a bedroom with two beds. This was where I was to sleep, along with Mark, Mariana's fiance, whom I had yet to meet.

It quickly became apparent that I had brought way too much with me. Two full suits with several collared dress shirts and shoes were in my garment bag, which I hung inside the wardrobe which took up one full side of the room. I layed my suitcase beside the bed, which was scarcely large enough to accomodate my 6'3" frame. But something about the house endeared me to it. I took a deep breath and had already begun to realize I was quickly falling in love with this place.

The house belonged to Mariana and Victor's aunt, a 67 year old Russian Romanian woman named Donna Maria. She stayed elsewhere in an apartment downtown, and rented this place out on occasion. She made sure it would be vacant to accomodate guests during the wedding. These aren't rich people by any stretch, and it struck a chord with me that this old woman would open her home to complete strangers free of charge. This was just the begining of immeasurable kindness that would be shown to me during my stay.

After I'd been fed and settled in, Vioriel took a cab to an appointment he had in town and Victor led me on a walking tour of the city. As we walked, the streets became more and more crowded, and Victor explained to me that this week had two of the biggest Moldavian holidays in it, Independence Day and Lingua Nostre, where they celebrate their language. So people from all over the country were there to party. Talk about luck! This country was full of gorgeous women, and they all decided to pack themselves into Chishinau for the week I was staying there. Victor and I continued on through the town as he showed me landmarks and talked about himself a bit. He's going to university to become a computer programmer, and he blew me away with all of his knowledge about computers. I work with computers all day, but just with programs that are on them to edit video and make graphics. This guy will one day CREATE those types of programs.

He led me through a park with a very nice fountain in it. The sun was hitting it just right in the late afternoon and it made for a beautiful rainbow stripe draped over the spurting water. I took a few pictures with my camera phone, and we continued through the park to a great big statue of a crowned man facing a busy street. The man's left hand was raised triumphantly above his head and held a cross. This was Stephan the Great (Stephan cel mare in romanian), a great (obviously) King who once fought Ottoman Turks to save Orthodox Christianity in the region, as well as the country of Moldova itself. This fantastic statue was also the most popular landmark in Chishinau, and happened to be where we were supposed to meet Mariana and her father, Tudor.

We weren't waiting long when they jumped out of a passenger bus across the street and came up to us. I recognized Mariana from her pictures and gave her a big hug. She had long, thick brown hair, done up for the wedding, and brown eyes, olive skin and a super thin frame. All the girls there did. She was suprised at my height, but was glad to see me nonetheless. She introduced me to her father, a white haired man in his late 50's with thick rimmed glasses and a hearty hand shake. He immediately began chatting me up and asking me questions as if I had any clue as to how to speak his language. I did recognize a word here and there that were similar to Italian, but if Mariana or Victor weren't there to translate, we'd have become quite bored with each other very quickly.

The man saw no problem that I didn't undestand him, and vice versa, but he was perfectly content in chatting up a storm with me, and somehow we worked it out with minimal translation. He struck me as a very warm person, beaming with pride about his daughter's approaching wedding. His smile was constant, and he had a few gold teeth. Many of the older adults here did, and there was no shame it it at all. I thought it was pretty cool in fact. He was excited like any other dad around the world would be, and this needed no translation.

Mariana and her father had been filling out some paper work all day. Well, all week actually. Apparently, if you want to take a beautiful Moldavian bride back home to Mama, you're going to have to sacrifice about a kagillion hours of your life waiting in lines for passports and visas and going from one building to another and back again, paying off this government servant and that embassy worker just to smuggle her out of the country. Guess they know how to protect their natural resources. Mariana told me she'd just gotten her passport approved or something like that, and we were now on our way to meet Mark at the church.

When she said church I figured he was making some arrangements with the church staff about the wedding or something. I was off by a little bit. We walk into the church and it is completely empty except for Mark and Vioriel. No pews, no pulpit. Just ornate paintings on the walls and ceilings of angels and saints and anything else you'd expect to find in small, yet beautiful Orthodox christian church. Upon closer inspection, Mark is not wearing a shirt, and Vioriel is in full priest garb reading from a bible that rests in one hand, while the other crosses Mark repeatedly head to chest, shoulder to shoulder. Mark is converting his religion this fine Thursday afternoon. I have stumbled into the script of My Big Fat Greek Wedding.

Mariana grabs a digital camera from Victor and pushes it towards me. Since I have a background in photojournalism, I am deemed lifetime wedding photographer on the spot. I was a little nervous about intruding with a camera into such a delicate and private ceremony, but they really didn't seem to mind. It was like we were all family, even though Mark and I hadn't even been introduced yet. So I started snapping away while Vioriel chanted and Mark prayed. Apparently, Mariana's family refused to attend the wedding unless Mark converted to Orthodox Chrisitanity. So here he was, converting. What a guy.

After the ceremony I finally get a chance to meet Mark. He's a really nice guy, 30, well educated, very soft spoken and humble. We exchange pleasantries, talk about the plane ride over and what not. I guess we were trying to avoid the subject of how strange this introduction was. I couldn't imagine going through something like that with a complete stranger smiling and snapping pictures in my face. He's a better man than I, for sure.

We all leave the church and catch a passenger bus back towards the residential area where I was staying. This time we went up the street a little ways to Mariana's house. It was very similar in structure to Donna Maria's house, small and old, tiny kitchen, narrow hallway between the restroom and the living/dining/bedroom, and another small bedroom adjacent to that. There was another one of those decorative rugs hanging from the wall above the bed in the living room. The bed also served as a couch and a bench at the dining room table. Mariana led me into the house and started freaking out that I hadn't taken off my shoes. I appologized, took them off, and she gave me these house slippers to put on. I have size 14 feet. The sole of the slippers dissapeared underneath my feet when I put them on, but I kept them on the whole time I was there anyway.

I met Dorina, Mariana and Victor's mother, who was cooking in the kitchen. She was in her 50's with dark hair and eyes like Mariana, and you could tell she was probably just as pretty when she had been her age. While Dorina started setting the table for dinner, Mark and I washed up at the kitchen sink, and Mariana dried our hands with a towel. I hadn't had a woman dry my hands off for me since my mother when I was a little boy. It was a very tender experience, and brought back those memories of being much younger. I felt like I was home, with people I'd known less than a few hours.

Dinner was magnificent. Mark, Mariana, Victor, Vioriel, Tudor and I all sat around the small table while Dorina served up the food. There was a macaroni pasta and something called a borsche, like a thin tomato stew, and fresh cooked vegetables. It was all very good. Tudor did most of the talking, mostly to me, while Victor and Mariana took turns translating. He talked about how happy he was for his daughter, and about how he felt like a rich man even though he didn't have much in the way of material posessions. There wasn't much I could see to argue with him. We talked about how communism had once sought to remove all belief in God from the land, by destroying churches and outlawing worship and preaching. Now churches had been rebuilt and were flourishing, the hope and faith of the people here too strong to be dominated.

He told me that although Moldavians now enjoyed more freedom than they had under the soviets, overall, things hadn't improved much due to corruption in subsequent governments. People even voted a communist leader back into power, trying to get certain aspects of their lives back. But this one was no different than the others, corrupt, making ten thousand dollars a month and living in a mansion while other people sell their posessions to buy bread. Tudor had an unwavering faith in God and belief that He would provide for his family. It was touching and made the cliche "count your blessings" hit home.

While we all talked, Dorina kept making sure I made no progress in finishing dinner by replacing whatever I ate with more than what was there in the first place. I ate till I was completely stuffed, when she started adding more of these large, ravioli pasta shells to my plate. I was trying to stop her, while Tudor was laughing and through translation, told me that for each shell I ate at dinner, I'd dance one girl at the wedding. At that point I jokingly took the serving bowl from Dorina's hands and helped myself to four more shells, which prompted laughter from everyone at the table. Mine didn't last long, as I was now expected to clean my plate. Uuggh.

I had my laptop with me, and after dinner I showed everyone a slideshow of all the pictures of Europe I'd taken since being stationed in Italy. They all wanted to see pictures of Venice, and I obliged them, trying to describe an indescribably beautiful city to them as best I could. Dorina cleared the table and Mark, Marian, Victor, Vioriel and I got ready to go out. We decided to go bowling downtown. Tudor and Dorina both gave me big hugs as we all left the house for the evening. We walked back to Donna Maria's so Mark and I could change into some more comfortable clothes.

I wanted to give Mark and Mariana their wedding gift now because it wasn't wrapped and I didn't want it to get messed up before the wedding. Mariana always told me about how badly she wanted to go to Venice, I bought them a hand made carnivale mask to decorate their home with, and hoped it would hold her over until she could go and get one for herself someday. It had a white face with a purple and gold butterfly design covering the eyes, and gold painted lips. It had a hood and collar made of ruffled leather with music notes painted on it. They liked it very much.

We left the house and walked to a main street and got on a passenger bus. I especially like traveling on thse things at night because they'd be crowded with hot women all dressed up to go out. I really wish I spoke Romanian! We all got off and started walking to the bowling alley. When we got in there, we found out that there was a wait of at least an hour. It was a nice bowling alley, but it only had 3 lanes! So we decided to try another one that was about a 20 minute walk away. I didn't mind, I was loving every minute of walking around this vibrant city. The streets were still teeming with young people even past 10pm, because tomorrow was a National Holiday, their Independence day. People chattering in Romanian and Russian everywhere, it was melodic. We walked to another bowling alley called New York. It was funny because the place had some security guards for whatever reason, and they were wearing hats and shirts that said NYPD on them.

They didn't have bowling shoes that fit me, so I had to squeeze into some that were two sizes too small, after having walked more in one day than I was used to walking in a month. Ouch! We bowled a couple games, nothing fancy. I won the first one and Mark won the second one. Victor was cracking me up with the way he was bowling. He'd approach the lane all serious with short, quick steps, bring the ball way back, then release it and go down on one knee with his arm in the air until the ball hit the pins. It was like watching an orchestra conductor trying to get the last bit of life out of the crescendo of a symphany. Every single ball he threw, that was his rhythm. But it was working for him, he threw more strikes than anyone else that night.

We left the bowling alley, and I didn't have to pay for anything! These people were so nice, it never even came up, they just took care of it all. We started walking back to where we could catch a passenger bus to take us closer to the house. Mariana wanted to know what I thought of Moldova so far. I think she thought that I would find it boring or unimpressive compared to living in Italy. No matter how hard I tried, I don't think I fully convinced her of how much I liked it there after only one day. I told her how amazed I was at how everyone was treating me like kin, taking such good care of me, it really made an impression. The van dropped us off in a plaza near Donna Maria's house, and we walked up the path to the gate. Vioriel and Mariana went back went back to her house, while Mark, Victor and I went inside. Although they'd actually been legally married in a court house a couple days before, Mark and Mariana were waiting until the traditional ceremony to spend their first night together. So we went back inside, talked for a bit, Victor played around on my laptop, and I got ready for bed. I fell asleep before my head hit the pillow.



 



 

Day 2:

Dreamless, deep sleep, even in a bed about 8 inches too small for me. Ahhh, how wonderful. I truly was away from work, problems, hassles. Vacation. For the first time in my adult life, I was truly experiencing VACATION. I vaguely remember Mark and Victor trying to rouse me at around 8 in the morning to go to a sauna with them. I didn't take a week off of work to get up at 8 in the morning. I rolled over, smiled, and blacked out again. I woke up around 11:30, slightly groggy, but feeling great. I asked the guys how to get to the sauna so I could take a shower, but it was full of people now. So THAT'S why they got up so early. No problem, I'll just use Donna Maria's shower. Except, there's no water heater on this house. Heeeere we go. I guess this is one way to wake up in the morning. I go into the bathroom, which has an old style, four legged basin with a hose attached to the faucet. Paint and porcelain are cracking and peeling all over the place. Trading spaces would have paid a fortune to get a hold of this room. Oh well, it was free, and when in Rome...

My eyes had never been so wide open, my voice never so high, as the instant the water from that faucet hit me. It's not like it was the dead of winter outside, I couldn't understand how water that cold could flow freely from pipes. My teeth were chattering too hard for me to tell the guys outside the bathroom to shut up. They were howling with laugher at my involuntary, womanly shriek. I had more important things to worry about, like blue skin. I actually got used to it pretty quick; it was kind of invigorating. I finished washing up and got dressed. We had some bananas and walked over to Mariana's house.

Dorina already had a nice breakfast waiting for us when we got there. This was great! I seriously felt like I was vacationing with my Nana and Pop pop and they were looking after my every need. We ate eggs, toast, cheeses, and fruits while talking about what the day held in store. Mark and Mariana still had to weed through some Moldavian beauracractic junk. Since Mark is working in Jordan, they needed to take care of some paperwork so he could bring her back with him. We were also going to meet up with some of Mariana's friends to take care of other preparations for the wedding. I didn't care what we did, as long as I got to see more of the city and it's impossibly attractive inhabitants.

After we finished breakfast, we hoped on a passenger bus and went to the marketplace. It wasn't like marketplaces I've been to in Italy, where people come and set up booths outdoors all over a city block for a day each week. This was more of a permanent indoor/outdoor swap meet type thing, with narrow corridors and people selling everything you could imagine. We met one of Mariana's friends who was going to be the maid of honor in the wedding, and her fiance was to be the best man. It's some kind of tradition in Moldova that two couples get married together at the same time, for moral support or something. It was interesting, I didn't fully understand it. Anyway, this girl (I forgot her name) was going to buy Mark and Mariana wedding gifts. So we were weaving in and out of all the different stands, going down one narrow corridor after another. People selling clothes, shoes, kitchen supplies, blankets, arts and crafts, you name it. It was pretty crowded and I was bumping into adults and tripping over children trying to keep up. And there were half naked people all over the place! There weren't any dressing rooms for people to try on the clothes they were looking at, so people just changed in the street! Whatever.

We walked into a couple of places that sold these really nice blankets. Mariana wanted one with tigers on it, but they couldn't find the one she wanted right away, so we were walking around for a while. We finally found it, and I had a new job, carrying stuff around while the girls shopped some more. We walked into a pretty nice department store while the girls shopped for an hour, not buying anything. Guess it's a universal trait.

We finished shopping, and Mariana's friend left. Mark, Mariana and I walked around the city some more, running errands. They had to go to the Jordanian embassy to get some paperwork signed so Mariana could live in that country with Mark. We went to a candy store first because she wanted to the the guy at the embassy some chocolate for helping them out. We made our way to the embassy and met the guy. He had this funny picture of himself up on the wall. It was really big, like a movie poster. He was wearing a red Arab type headgear with a big smile on his face and a camel in the background. I thought it was hilarious, but then I realized this was the guys office and he was probably proud of it or it wouldn't be up. I decided to keep quiet.

He took about ten minutes with them, filling out paper work. He collected $40 from Mark, and then we were done. As we left, Mariana complained that the guy was a crook because he had already charged them $60 for other services, which in Moldova is a TON of money, like a month's salary for some people. Mark told her not to be angry and just be happy that it was all taken care of. That was the last thing they had to do before they left the country. Well, besides get married two more times.

Now I was in for a treat because Mariana was going to introduce me to a friend of hers who really wanted to meet me. We walked to the other side of town and met the Servan family, who was waiting for us. The girl who wanted to meet me, Nastya, was there with her parents, Simeon and Maria, and her two sisters, Irina and Veronika. Nastya spoke English, but none of her family did, but I was used to this by now. We all sat for a little while near a park, while Mark and Mariana spoke with Nastya's parents. I just sat on the bench with the three girls, feeling a little awkward, I didn't really know what to say to any of them, so I just sat there and listened to the conversation.

We decided to all have dinner together downtown. Mariana made things even more awkward for me and these new people. She and Mark would ride with Simeon and Maria while Nastya, her sisters and I would walk. Mariana was trying to play matchmaker, but I wasn't really feeling it. Nastya was pretty, just not very attractive to me. She was a little bit heavier than the type of girls I like. Now if they wanted to hook me up with her 19 year old sister Irina, that would have been no problem, because she was a fox. But that wasn't the case, so I decided I could just be friends with all these girls. It's a good thing I did, because we became very good friends and had a great time together.

We walked and talked about ourselves, trying to get to know each other. Nastya met Mariana at Seminary where they studied together and became friends. She now worked at the Seminary in children's ministry, and wanted to be an interior decorator someday. Her sisters were still in school; Veronika was starting high school, and Irina was in her second year of college, studying fashion design. Nastyta learned English in just one year at seminary, which I thought was very impressive. She had an accent, but it didn't detract from the clarity of her English. It was pretty hot, like all accents. Besides English and Romanian, she spoke Russian, and was learning to speak Spanish by watching telenovellas on TV. She was pretty awesome.

We got to this little restaurant where we sat outside and met everyone else who came by car. Mariana kept looking at me and smiling and asking me what I thought of Nastya. I was honest, I told her I thought she was very nice and that I looked forward to getting to know her better and becoming friends. I don't think Mariana was satisfied with that answer, but it was all she was gonna get. We ate some pizza and talked about my job as an Air Force television journalist, and how it was I came to be in Moldova that week.

Somehow during dinner it was decided that I would be spending the night with the Servan family at their apartment. Mariana was delighted at this, since she orchestrated the whole thing, despite my protests that all my clothes and toiletries were at Donna Maria's house. My arguments carried no sway, and I bid Mark and Mariana farewell for the evening as we finished dinner. I got into Simeon's Ford station wagon with the rest of the family, and we headed for their apartment on the outskirts of the city. I wasn't nervous anymore, just a little awestruck at the willingness of these folks to take me, a perfect stranger, into their home after having known me less than a few hours.

Their apartment building looked just like the rest of the housing buildings in the city. Tall, white but turning to gray and brown in areas because of a lack of upkeep. We piled into a rickety elevator and rode it to the top floor. I was surprised it was able to hold all six of us, groaning in protest as it did. There was enough space between the floor of the elevator and the hallway when the door opened that you could see to the bottom of the shaft. That was a bit scary, but nobody but me seemed bothered by it, so I relaxed. There was only two apartments on the floor, we went to the one on the left.

Inside the apartment we all took off our shoes and I was told to make myself at home. It was a really nice apartment with a great view of the city. Maria was getting ready to make some dinner, but needed a few things from the grocery store before she could finish. So I had been in the house for less than five minutes and it was time to go back downstairs and into the car again. I didn't mind, I really liked being out and about with the locals in this place.

We drove to a very modern supermarket with big lights and a big parking lot...and small prices! Food was dirt cheap in this place, it was awesome. We walked up and down the aisles, and I came across the most amazing thing. Well, I thought it was cool anyway. Ice Cream in a bag. A bag of Ice Cream. Like a gallon of it, in a plastic bag with a twist tie. This was how they sold it there, no cartons or Ben and Jerry's pints, just a bag of ice cream. Awesome. We bought some yogurt, some cheese, some bread, some meat, the usual, paid for it and went back to the apartment.

I sat in the den with Nastya and talked while Maria made dinner. Simeon suggested I take a shower before dinner, and I didn't think it was a bad idea, I needed a nice warm shower since the one that morning had chilled me to the bone. Just when I was getting attached to the idea, Simeon came into the room with some bad news. Apparently, there had been some kind of problem downstairs with the pipes, and there was no running water at all in the whole building.

I didn't mind too much, but I could tell that he was really embarrassed by the whole situation. I told Nastya to assure him that I didn't mind at all, and I could take a shower in the morning after the problem was fixed. We all sat down to a fabulous supper of pasta and salad, fresh cooked vegetables, watermelon (which in Romanian is called “harbus”) and bread and butter. We also drank some strawberry wine, and this fantastic home made apple juice that was unlike anything I'd ever tasted. It was clear, and I thought it was water at first, but I tasted it and was really surprised.

Just like supper with Mariana's family the night before, the man of the house did most of the talking here too. Simeon was talking about how he used to serve in the Soviet army when he was my age, but he never really agreed with Communism, especially after they tore down all of the religious establishments. We talked about life in Moldova and how things were so bad with the economy. I told him, through Nastya, how impressed I was at how generous everyone I had met here had been to me, despite all the hardship. The two younger girls sat quietly for most of the supper while we talked, Nastya did all the translation and tried to talk to me too, but then had to translate everything back for her family. I felt bad that I couldn't speak more of their language since they were going to all this trouble to have a conversation with me.

We finished supper and had ice cream for desert. Not the kind in the bag though, but it was still good. After dinner, Maria and Simeon went to bed, and all the girls and I went into the living room to watch tv and talk. The girls had to watch their favorite telenovella every night at 11pm. It was in Spanish with Romanian subtitles, so I was pretty much out of luck. But it was still fun, I just made up the plot as we watched, inserting my own dialogue into the show. I think the girls tired of my sense of humor rather quickly since they were really into this thing, so I just tried to watch along with them, but really didn't get too much of it.

After the show, Nastya's sisters went into their room to go to bed, and Nastya folded out the couch to make my bed. She was going to sleep on the floor in her sister's room. Once again I felt bad that I was putting somone out, but she really didn't seem to mind. I thanked her for her kindness, and she turned out the light in the room and left. I laid my head down, and fell asleep wondering what the next day would have in store.



Day 3:

As much as I was enjoying each day more and more, morning just seemed to come too early! I slept well but was groggy when Nastya came in to the living room in her PJ's to wake me up. Everyone was already waiting for me at the breakfast table. It was a little embarassing walking into the kitchen with my hair all messed up and my breath kickin' like Pele. But everyone just smiled at me and made room for me at the table like it was nothing, which set me at ease. I really was starting to feel like family, and I hadn't even been there a whole day. The breakfast was delicious; eggs and potatoes, bread and homemade jam, coffee and orange juice. We talked about what I could expect at the wedding party that evening, and how different things were between American weddings and the traditional ones here. But there wasn't much they could tell me that would have prepared me for that evening's festivities. But I'll get to that later, since I'm trying not to leave anything out of this.

After breakfast, Simeon told me that the hot water was working now and that I could take a shower. I was much obliged, but remembered that all of my toiletries were back at Donna Maria's house. Apparently, this wasn't a problem at all. They had a brand new toothbrush for me and disposable razors. I began to realize that they had planned on me staying there well in advance, and did a really good job of pretending it was the result of a spontaneous thought. I wasn't quite sure what to make of that, but figured since these were some of the nicest people I'd ever met, it didn't really matter what they were planning. I think they really wanted me to fall in love with and marry Nastya. It seemed like a lot of this trip was all about me meeting her and spending time with her. Anyway, I'm off subject again.

I got into the shower and was a bit surprised when brown water came out of the spout. I guess since the water had been laying stagnant in the pipes all night, it took the color of its surroundings. But it was warm, and it was rinsing off cleanly, so who cares about a little brown water? After I dried off and got dressed, Simeon took me to the local police station so I could register. In Europe, all foreigners, no matter the reason they're in the country, have to register their name with the police and where they'll be staying and what not. Do we have something like this in the states? If not, why the heck not? Sure it was a bit of a hassle, but it seemed like a smart measure. Were they worried about political correctness? Not a darn bit. They got all up in my bussiness, wondering what I was doing there, how long I'd be staying, all kinds of questions. I didn't mind at all. After that was all finished, Nastya met us at the station and she and I went for a walk. She took me to a little park area along the road behind her apartment building. On the way we passed kids playing soccer in the alleys, old women hanging laundry off of their balconies, a small florist shop and lots of other little bussinesses. It was a really nice day outside, and it was big contrast against the bleaker surroundings of the tall, dilapidated apartment buildings and broken down streets that ran between them. The area was full of life though and even though the place reminded me of an iner-city slum from back home, these people weren't nearly as downtrodden as one might imagine.

Nastya and I talked about her school and things to do in the city about her childhood. She was a very interesting person with a good sense of humor. She didn't get all of my jokes right away, but she soon realized that I was hardly ever serious about anything and was always trying to make her laugh, and that seemed to loosed her up a lot. We sat on a park bench for a while and talked some more and soaked up the sun a bit. It was a really nice experience, with the distant sound of traffic on one side and of kids playing on the other. Around 2pm we walked back to her apartment. It was time to get ready for the wedding party.

Simeon, Nastya and I all got into the car and they drove me back to Donna Maria's house so I could get ready. They dropped me off and I went inside, where Mark, Victor and a new guy I hadn't met yet were all talking in the living room. The new guy's name was Eric. He was a friend of Mark's who lived with his wife and children as a missionary in Russia. This guy was really cool. He spoke fluent russian and had maybe two changes of clothes with him for the whole week. The exact opposite of me, who packed half my wardrobe and never ended up wearing 1/3 of what I brought.

We all chatted for a bit until it was time to get ready. Mark had this all white suit that he bought for the wedding, it was relly nice. He got ready really fast and took off for Mariana's house with Victor, leaving Eric and I behind. Eric had to borrow my shirt because he didn't have one without wrinkles. I was going to let him borrow some of my pants, but this guy was like 6'5” with a 29 inch waist. I'm 6'3” with a 36 inch waist, so that just wasn't going to happen. I got into my suit and got all gussied up and we walked over to Mariana's house. There were a bunch of people hanging out all over the place when I got there. People getting dressed and doing their hair in the yard, the kitchen, the living/dining room, I mean everywhere. I found out later that all of these people had slept in that little house the night before. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends, you name it, they came from all over the country and squeezed into that place. I couldn't believe it. Mariana was still getting ready (naturally) so I just kinda stood around waiting for someone to introduce me to people. It took a while since I was the only person there that didn't speak any Russian or Romanian. I evenutally saw this one really pretty girl wrapping presents and decided to help her out. To my dismay, she was really shy and spoke very little English, but she seemed appreciative of my help. I later found out that she was only fourteen years old, which was REALLY troubling since she easily could have passed for 23. Anyway, Mariana is finishing up getting ready, so we all start preparing to leave. Mark and Mariana are taking a taxi, but the rest of us are walking a couple miles to the banquet hall where the wedding party will be.

Now as I understood it, Moldavians have the traditional wedding reception before the actual wedding ceremony. A full day before. And they really know how to party. Me and some of the other guys all got to the banquet hall and helped the workers there finish setting up. They had a really nice set up in there, two long dining table that sat about 50 people each, decked out with all the trimmings. Champagne, Vodka and Cognac, as well as red and white wine were at each place setting. I could tell this was going to be a great party.

Once everything got set up, we waited for the guests to start arriving. And waited. And waited! Man, these people were taking their sweet time showing up. After standing around for about an hour and a half, Mark and Mariana's cab finally showed up. But we still had to wait for a lot of people before things really got started. Once it was evident that most of the guests had arrived, the first ceremony began. I call this one “The Kissing of the Bread,” because I never got the official name. Everyone lined up to greet Mark and Mariana, and as they got their chance in line to say helllo and present them with their gift, Tudor would hold out a big circular loaf of bread for them to kiss. I'm not really sure what this symbolized, all I knew was I didn't want to eat any of it after 150 pairs of lips had rubbed all over it.

All of a sudden, Mariana became very aggitated with me because I wasn't videotaping every single guest that walked in the door. This was apparently vital footage that I was missing, so I grabbed the camera and stood there as EVERY SINGLE PERSON kissed the bread. What the lady wants, the lady gets, I didn't care. While all this was happening, the bad that Mariana hired to play the wedding was going to town. They weren't really singing, just wailing away on the keyboard and guitar and such. They were playing some Stevie wonder and Celine Dion and a bunch of other stuff. The guests finally all showed up, but we were still waiting around for the Guests of honor. Remember that other couple that was supposed to get married at the same time? Yeah, they were the last people to show up. So while we're waiting around, some of the ladies form a circle in the center of the hall and start dancing to some Moldavian music, courtesy of the band in the corner. It was a neat little dance, they were all holding hands, jumping up and down a bit, taking a couple steps to the left, then one to the right, then a few more left, then more jumping. It looked easy enough. So I set the camera down and joined in. It was so much fun! A lot of people started clapping with the music, and one of the older women started screaming and holering and I nearly passed out from laughing so hard. She was the cutest, funniest thing I had seen in a while.

The guests of honor finally showed up, went through the whole bread kissing ceremony, presented their gifts, and now everyone was present and accounted for. That can only mean one thing. Time to FEAST!!! There was all kinds of food, chicken, beef, eggs, mushrooms, a lot of exotic local dishes that I remember neither the ingredients or the names of, but it was gooood. I sat in between Nastia and her sisters, and she was explaining different things about the foods and the ceremonies to me. The wine was flowing and I was feeling gooood. I was trying to converse with the other people at my end of the table, without much luck. But one man across from me and I became quick friends, as he kept wanting to toast cognac with me every 5 minutes. I had no intention of getting drunk and making a fool of myself at this wedding, so I turned him down as often as I could, but he was winning the battle. I decided to step outside for a bit of fresh air, (it was hot in there!) and chat with Nastia and Victor and his friends for a little bit. I met another girl named Dana who had also come from Italy to attend the wedding. She didn't speak much english, but she was fluent in Italian, and since I had been drinking, so was I! We chatted for a little while, then I went back inside for more food. At this point, a lot of the guests were good and buzzed, and this was fueling a round of impromptu serenades for Mark and Mariana. One man got up, and with the band accompanying him, sang a very lovely russian song to the couple. Nastia translated most of the words for me. Then the man's son got up and sang something Acapella, it sounded really cool too, and everyone was smiling and clapping. Not to be outdone, I decided it was my turn on the mike. Disregarding the imminent embarrasment I was about to cause myself, I took the microphone and started talking to Mark and Mariana at the other end of the room. I wished them happiness in their marriage and dedicated them a song from MY country. Without any help from the band, I sang Amazed, by Lonestar, and it actually came out really good! At least to me. Everyone was clapping and cheering when I finished, and Mariana had tears in her eyes. Mission Accomplished.

I sat back down near my buddy Vladimir (or whatever his name was) and threw back some more Cognac. The mike was making it's way around the tables for everyone to toast and raise a glass to the couples. There were like 40 toasts, so people were starting to get pretty hammered at this point. I asked Nastia to teach me a Romanian toast, so she did. She told me how to say Love, Joy, and Good Health. The mike finally came around to me, and I was a little nervous, but stumbled through it. “Dragoste, buchuria, she fi sana doch,” I said. That's spelled horribly wrong, but I pronounced it right at the banquet, so that's all that matters. People's eyes lit up and they all clapped wildly at my horribly lame attempt at their language. I must not have butchered it too badly. My biggest fear was mispeaking and insulting someone's grandmother. That didn't happen. I hope.

So we've been eating for about three solid hours by this point, and it's time to work some of it off. The bad starts revving up the traditional jams, and the ladies are in full effect on the dance floor now. Of course I was right there too. They taught me a few new traditional dances, but nothing prepared me for what was coming next. The Napkin Dance. Remember the name, and request it at your next wedding. The Lord was smiling down on me this day. Here's how it goes. All of the women stand in the center of a circle formed by all of the men. At least the one's who felt like dancing anyway. The music starts and the men sort of just run around in a circle with their arms around each other, flailing about. IT was pretty hilarious. Now for the good part. The women in the middle are all holding napkins. And as you dance around them, they pick men out from the circle to dance with by wrapping the napkin around the back of their neck and pulling them into the circle. The woman then kneels down, places the napkin at the man's feet, the music changes, and they start to dance as a couple. When the music stops, the man kneels down to retrieve the napkin, and when he stands back up, the woman gives him a passionate kiss full on the lips. Not just a little peck, we're talking full on lip lock for more than a few seconds here. Now a lot of these girls are as beautiful as any I've seen in my life, so I'm more than a little excited about this new dance I've learned. A very pretty girl with blonde curly hair, blue eyes and a black dress picked me out and we started dancing. I was all smiles when I knelt down to get that napkin. When I stood back up, the girl jumped into my arms and gave me a huge kiss. I had to hold her in the air because I was quite a bit taller than her. “This is AWESOME,” I thought to myself. But it got even better. After each change of music, the roles reversed. The men who were drawn into the circle now had control of the almighty napkin! So it was my turn to pick another hottie out from the crowd to dance and lock lips with. There was no way this dance could go on too long, but it did last for about 15 minutes, which was still pretty cool. I danced with 20 girls, each one prettier than the next. I'm moving to Moldova someday, just so I can get invited to more weddings.

The music subsided a bit, and I went over to talk with Mark and Mariana, who were very aware of the fact that I was a bit drunk and had just finished mackin' on all the bridesmaids. The bottles of wine and moscato I brought for them from Italy were still unopened, in front of them, and I made a federal case out of it. “You HAVE to try this Moscato I brought you!” But alas, there was no bottle opener around. I grabbed the moscato and walked into the kitchen where all the help was working on desert. I asked for a bottle opener, and they showed me where the bathroom was. My lack of romanian vocabulary showing, I decided to pantomime what I needed, which only resulted in laughter, but no bottle opener. I'm not that good at charades I guess. That girl Dana from Italy showed up from out of nowhere behind me and asked what I was doing. I explained to her in Italian that I was trying to get the moscato open but had nothing to remove the cork with. She grabbed the bottle from me and started rifling through drawers and such in the kitchen. All she found was a thin sharp knife. Apparently, that was all she needed, as she began digging and cutting the cork out of the bottle. “This is a resourceful woman!” I thought. “I'll have to keep her around!”

After about ten minutes of digging and chatting, she finally struck oil, and we shared a celebratory toast. I brought the bottle back out to Mark and Mariana, and poured them each a glass. They liked it, I was happy, and all Dana's hard work had paid off. At this point, Mariana's dad Tudor had a big basket in his hand and he was going around collecting money from the guests for the newlyweds. I was put in charge of holding the microphone for every donator as they gave a toast before putting their money in. I had no idea what was going on, but I did get to drink some wine after every toast, which was like 20. Oooh boy, the night was rockin' now. There was some more dancing after that, but it couldn't compare to the napkin dance. My attempts to get an encore failed.

After a little while longer, at like one or two in the morning, everyone lined up on either side of the entrance to the banquet hall, each holding a large white flower aloft. They formed a nice little canopy overhead. Mark and Marian made a second entrance; Mark carrying Mariana in his arms through the tunnel of flowers. At the end of the line was a large chair that Mark sat down in with Mariana on his lap. This part was really cool. Everyone grabbed their gift from the pile in the corner and, one by one, presented them to the couple. The gifts were placed all around the chair, and by the end of the little ceremony, Mark and Mariana were completely surrounded by all of their wedding presents.

Now it was time to cut the wedding cake. The cake had three layers and required Victor and Vioriel to carry it out. Everyone got a piece and sat down to eat. At this point, around 4 in the morning or so, people were STARTING leave, but others were dancing and I joined them. These traditional Moldavian dances were so much fun! At around 6am, it was finally time to go. I bid farewell to Nastia and her family and they drove home. Victor and I got a ride back to Donna Maria's house. I was wiped out, and made a bee line out of my clothes and into bed.



Let me know if you want the rest!



Nick