Tips for Sucessful Relationships with foreigners
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(Page 1/4) Fifth Moldovan TripJuly/August 2005
This was a very exciting trip. The best part was that my mum from Australia was coming, along with her husband Kenny, and even my sister from New Zealand . This was the first time they had ever been anywhere except for New Zealand or Australia (Kenny once went to the USA for a few weeks though).
Mum and Kenny first went to the USA , and did a tour of some cities out west, before visiting us in Nebraska , to see where we lived and what it was like. Then we all flew together to Amsterdam (the first time I'd ever been there too), and my sister arrived from New Zealand about an hour after us. That was pretty amazing - we came from the USA , and she came from New Zealand , and yet arrived only one hour after us! Amazing.
We wandered around the Amsterdam airport for a while, amazed at the many different people, liking the various European airport stores and foods, and running into the usual ticket counter staffed by only one person situation. But over all, everything was easy and not confusing. Some European airports are a bit confusing, but still they are nothing compared to what Moldova can be.
We even found sausage rolls in the Amsterdam airport! Very cool. I haven't had sausage rolls for quite some time as they aren't available in the USA .
I had been telling everyone about the various strange aspects of Moldova and what they expect to encounter. Dorina was getting a little mad at me, because it seemed like I was insulting her poor country. She was, by the way, returning to her country for the first time in two years since leaving it, so she wasn't sure what to expect there either, although was feeling nervous both about visiting and having to 'look after' a whole bunch of English-speaking foreigners.
So, the Amsterdam airport was very novel for me and my family, and then we went to catch the Air Moldova flight to Chisinau.
Air Moldova has brought some new planes - well, used to be exact, but now they have some Airbus planes. They are very western. It's a shame in a way, because although it seems they get to Moldova faster than the old Soviet planes, it's not nearly as fun.
There was the usual assortment of people on the plane going to Moldova . Some Moldova 's, of course, both returning for a holiday or returned from a holiday. And lots of American missionaries. Those fuckers are all over Moldova like an infectious rash, noting that poor people are desperate and thus make excellent converts.
We finally arrived in Moldova , I think after only two and a half or three hours. We flew over Chisinau, and could see all the usual village houses on the edge of the city. We landed, hopped into a new bus (I don't recall if it was air conditioned or not, but it was definitely new) and began the usual chaos of waiting in a Moldovan line in immigration.
This time I didn't bother to get a visa before going, because my family were unable to get one (coming from Australia and NZ), so I thought I'd just stand in line with them. The line wasn't too long, but of course, these lines don't move very fast in Moldova .
There weren't really any signs or anything telling us what to do. Just the sign saying 'VISAS', and that's it. Only one official was in the visa booth. People of course kept going up to the front and trying to ask questions or such, and a few of course would try to push in front of us.
The lines are never single file. They are about 6 people wide. Who goes first is determined by which of the six people standing side by side appears to be in front, determined by such factors as how long their shoes are (the longer the shoe, the more 'in front' of you they are, and thus they go first) or how much further their bags are in front of you (which everyone slow nudges forward from time to time, of course. If everyone doesn't keep up with this bag nudging, then you will eventually lose your place in line and people will swarm around you and you'll magically find yourself at the back).
Compounding the problem of the line and uncertain instructions were the fact that people appeared to be filling in some kind of form, but we didn't have one, nor know where to get one from. Some people approached the single official and asked for a form, and appeared to get one, but the man wasn't happy about this.
We were worried, especially as while we were standing in line, at least four more planes full of people landed, and all seemed to need a visa and would stand in our line. Not having the right papers when you reached the front might well mean you'd be sent to the back, and the back of the line kept expanding almost minute by minute. It was Friday evening rush hour at the airport! What the hell was happening?
Apparently, someone in Moldova was having a wedding, and had invited lots of people. Were all the people landing really all there for the one wedding? It was doubtful, but strangely would not be impossible in this country.
When we were nearly at the front of the line, I made my mum get some forms from the man. Luckily we did. Victory! We were all very tired by now of course, and I'd seen this type of line before, so tensions were high. But we had our forms, and began filling them out. Well, I didn't because I didn't have a pen. But at least Mum, Kenny and Donna were able to. The crowd, seeing that the stupid foreigners were almost at the front and didn't have their forms all filled out completely, were getting excited, thinking that soon they'd be advancing up the line by four as we were sent to the back. Indeed, as I finally got a pen and scribbled frantically (and barely legibly) I let one man go in front of me. This further incised the crowd, and many people started inching forward at a great rate. The result was we were all jammed right up against the counter now, instead of behind the line were we were all supposed to stand. It sucked. I had to tell people that I was next, as I was standing right behind the current man being served, and had various foreigners crowding around me from all other sides anxious to thrust their papers in front of the official and thus get 'served' before me even though I was technically next.
Phew. I did get served. Bloody lucky. This line business is extremely nerve wracking, and if you've never experienced it, you have no idea.
Luckily of course, we had all the necessary other documents - my family had their invitations (thanks Radu!), passport photos, and $60 US. My form was accepted, even though it was barely readable, and I was granted the visa. Thank-fucking-god for that.
Next, immigration! The line didn't appear to be too long, but again, six people wide. I was in competition with several women, one of which wins by default in any line simply because she is fatter and therefore sticks out further. Everyone one else was ahead of me, and got through and went off to claim their bags. Dorina of course had charged off to immigration as soon as we landed, so wait for us to get the visa, as she wanted to go outside and meet her friends.
I let the couple of women standing next to me go. I thought it was unfair, as I was very tired, having come from the US , and surely they had come from only a few hours away, and they had done all this before anyway. But, whatever. I was nearly at the front.
Immigration went smoothly, the officials seem trained to be almost friendly now. Hooray! I was admitted to the country. Off to baggage claim and customs.
Bloody hell! Another line! I couldn't believe it, although of course I should have suspected it. But I'd never seen such a big line in Moldovan customs before. Another sign of growth, perhaps eh?
I found my bags, and prepared to wait to stand in line. Then, for whatever reason, a man approached and asked if I needed help. He said it in Russian, and thankfully I understood. I haven't learned much in my two years of Russian classes (I didn't study very hard), but this I understood and was proud. At first I declined, thinking he just wanted a bribe. Then I pointed to the line and said I'd just stand in it. He said 'Ok, if you want to', but hung around a bit longer. Then I thought fuck it, and said 'Yes, I want help'.
The action was swift. He grabbed my bags and shoved some others off the x-ray machine, much to the annoyance of the people standing in line. When through, he carried them to customs man, who checked them quickly, joked with me about some perfume smell coming from one bag (what happened there?) and I was free!
The helpful man then barged through the approximately two thousand people standing waiting at the exits to customs, and was prepared to charge out onto the street with my bags. I saw my friends and family over to the side, so guided him over. So thankful was I for this 'help' that I got $20 from my wallet, concealed it in my palm and gave it to him when I shook his hand. Proper procedure.
Later I learned that my family also were helped by someone in customs, and also got through customs quickly, despite not knowing any Russian nor giving him money afterwards. So that shot down my pride a bit. Evidently not knowing Russian gives you certain advantages over knowing some. And of course, no one tips or bribes in Australia , so they didn't think to tip the man. It's really a bit odd. I'm sure he expected to be tipped (bribed, whatever), as he appeared to be only helping foreigners. Then again, I really have no fucking idea. The whole situation is so confusing and weird, it's not really possible to tell what's going on. Do they deliberately slow down customs and then 'help' tourists through it expecting tips in order to earn more money? Is everyone in customs in on this? Or are these helpful men just random friends of people working at the airport, or what? Who the hell knows.
So, freedom! My friend John from Nebraska and his Moldova wife met us at the airport, as well as Dorina's friends. John and Natasha had come on holiday too, and would be there for about the same time as us. We had planned things this way, as it was bound to be more fun.
I was very annoyed still, but quite relieved to be out finally. As my mum pointed out, we were really only in their for an hour or so, but with all the uncertainty and the people wanting to push in front of you and send you to the back of the line, thus prolonging your misery - it's very stressful. Especially after having come from a long flight.
I don't even want to think what would happen if we reached the visa official and didn't have the photograph. Would he take one for us? Probably not. We'd be sent to the back of the line for sure, first of all, and dealt with when the crowd had been processed (at about 10pm at night?), I'm sure of it.
We got into a van, which Dorina's friend had arranged for us, and trundled off towards the city. This was the first moment I could relax properly. I was so angry and annoyed, vowing never to come back to Moldova again. And I'd only just arrived! It was very hot, about 35 Celsius or so already.
So this was the first real peak of Moldova for my family. I don't know what they were thinking, but as I was bouncing along the road in this van, looking at the carts and old cars and markets and Soviet people and crappy buildings, I couldn't help but laugh. This is Moldova . And Moldova is a very fun place.
We went first to the apartment downtown where mum and Kenny would be staying. We arranged this through Radu. It took a while to arrange accommodations, because I was hoping one of Dorina's friends would do this for us. I gave her a lot of time to arrange something, but nothing came through. Well, first of all Dorina wanted us to all stay at her friend's parents apartment, which would have been very nice, but after finding out they only had one spare bedroom (two if you count the lounge), I decided this wouldn't be enough space for my family to live without killing each other. We are simply not used to living together in one room - call us spoiled or as you like it, but we need our own space.
Plus, I remember Moldovan accommodations and such - friends popping over all the time, all kinds of goings on - there is not much privacy.
I had wanted to rent a small house for all of us, but Dorina really wanted at least some of us to stay with her friends family. Ok, so fair enough, eventually we came up with the compromise of mum and Kenny staying downtown, and the rest of us would stay at her friends families place.
Anyway, we got to the apartment, and went in. I had told mum previously that the insides of apartments are nicer than the outsides, but Kenny did look a bit worried when we saw the concrete stairs and dirt playground outside,
The inside was very nice. It is technically a one-bedroom apartment, but called a 'two room' apartment in Moldova . It was $35 a night. Dorina's friend Valentine was organizing the conditions of staying with the lady owner, and I was trying to tell him to make sure she knew that my family should not be bothered, etc. Then there was a problem with the price. $35 a night - for one person - $5 extra for each additional person. Maybe I didn't read Radu's website properly, but I definitely didn't remember this. And so, I didn't have enough money for the 12 nights they would be staying.
So you really need to watch that. Valentine tried to reason with her, but she was having none of it. Ok, so fair enough, Kenny gave her the extra money for the extra person, and it was settled. My sister was supposed to stay with us in Valentine's parents apartment, but was so tired (having come half way around the world), she was allowed to stay in the apartment for one night as well.
That settled, Dorina and I went off to Valentine's parents.
It seemed like a very long way away, and I eventually learned that it was. It was the area of Chisinau were I got lost once when I had decided to go for a walk. This was on my second, and most favorite trip to Moldova . The one when there was a thunderstorm and pieces of apartments fell off onto the street! I have photos of it under the second trip section.
Anyway, so we went inside, met Valentine's parents, who were very nice of course, and when it was learned that I spoke Russian they tried to speak with me, and then seeing I understood almost nothing they switched back to Romanian. Thanks very much.
Somewhere in the discussion it was learned exactly how much we had just paid for mum and Kenny's apartment, and everyone was shocked that we'd been ripped off by so much. For this price, everyone agreed, they would have left their apartment and we could have had it. Even Valentine agreed he would have left his own apartment, too.
This really pissed me off. This was exactly what I was trying to get Dorina to do for about six weeks, and nothing ever became of it. Well, it was too late now, wasn't it? I could hardly go to the lady and ask for the money back and move mum and Kenny here while Valentines parents packed up and pissed off for twelve days.
Besides which, $40 a night for twelve days, for an apartment in the middle of Chisinau is very reasonable to any western foreigner. In the USA , mum and Kenny stayed in the cheapest hotels they could find, and they cost some $50-$60 US a night.
These Moldovans are crazy, I decided. Always trying to please one another in order to 'help each other out' and avoid offending each other (which is very easy to do) to the point that plans get confused, changed at regular intervals, and no one knows what the hell is going on or what to do.
I eventually just stormed out of the lounge, and went to the room where we'd be staying (indeed, there was only one free bedroom, so there would have been no space for my sister). I laid down eventually, and realized how tired I was. I drifted off to sleep fairly quickly.
The next day was Saturday, and Dorina had arranged to take us all by van to her mum's village, in order to meet her mum and also to register us with the police there, under her mum's name. Registering with the police is very important in Moldova , and not doing so can mean you miss your flight when you leave, and get ordered to pay $10!
We had a nice breakfast with Valentine's parents, and then pissed off downtown to collect the family. Donna had slept well, and was looking very much more alive and normal now. Mum and Kenny had discovered some shops the night before, and so had eaten well.
I confessed my frustrations about the whole trip so far (we'd been there less than 24 hours) and had to yell at Dorina for a while and she at me. It really was just so frustrating and illogical. If I'd had my way, I'd have just rented a house and we'd all stay in it. But because we had to please the interest of so many people instead, things were royally fucked up, and here I was separated from my family in a strange foreign city.
Anyway, that was OK. We told Donna about the lack of space at Valentine's mum's place, and she agreed to stay with mum and Kenny. We went and exchanged money, and for some reason they were out of notes bigger than five lei, so we had rather large piles of money with us. I happily flashed these large wads in front of attractive young female Moldovans I saw on the street, which drew the appropriate glances. Hooray! Of course I forgot that I was wearing my wedding ring, and of course I wear it on the right hand, the same as in Moldova , so the only glances I got from female Moldovans on the whole trip was when I was holding money. Otherwise, nothing. Well, fair enough. I am married, after all.
We went off on the bone jarring drive to the Causeni, with another friend of Dorina's. At first it's fun to ride on Moldovan roads. After a while, not so much.
We got to the registration office, met Dorina's mum, introductions were short because of course, no one knew each others language, and started the registration process, which involved us sitting outside and Dorina and her mum doing various things in the dark concrete interior of the registration offices.
It took a while, and then we went to downtown Causeni and brought some food, and then off to Dorina's mum's village, for lunch.
My family's initial reaction to the village house was exactly the same as mine. Looking around, saying how it's 'not so bad at all, even quaint and cute'. Indeed it is. Even using the toilet isn't so bad. Until you go to wash your hands and realize that it just isn't possible. There are no taps. There is no drain. And the water comes from a bucket which you fetch from down the street.
Still, it takes a while for the well meaning-ness of inspecting a Moldovan village to wear off, and it usually takes an over night experience to do it. Lunch was a pleasant affair, 'water' was offered in small glasses (Kenny had never experienced drinking vodka at lunch before). I for one was just damn happy we had a friend with a van to take us away again. A few hours is enough time in a Moldovan village.
Villages really are a difficult affair. You don't want to be rude to the people living there by insulting them, and you also really appreciate how people can live without so many modern conveniences and make a life for themselves here. You also realize that all the modern conveniences that we are used to are very artificial, and it takes a great deal to maintain them (paying taxes so we can have city water supply and trash service, for example, which then have large crews of people employed by the city to maintain such things for us at a collective cost of millions of dollars). And that's just for water and trash.
The hardest concept about villages to grasp is that a mere 100 years ago, pretty much everyone lived like this. Everyone. And billions still do today. And here we are, spoiled westerners, who although can appreciate the situation, can't bring ourselves to stay in a village for more than a few hours without becoming uncomfortable. It hits you very, very hard, just how easy life has become, and exactly how much comfort we take for granted and demand. Not only that, but it shows just how hard life is, and how dirty our bodies really are. Preparing food on dirty tables, not being able to clean dishes with hot water all the time, no where for used water, not being able to shower to rinse off the dirt and sweat our bodies accumulate by just . . . just what? Being in nature - in absolutely natural surroundings. Sweat, dirt, food comes from the ground - all of this is completely and absolutely normal, and here we are, so far divorced from this, so quickly, over the space of 100 years. It's extremely crazy. I thoroughly recommend everyone to visit village like in Moldova at least once in their lives, and stay at least one night - so you are well past the point of being uncomfortable - just to experience it. To experience the types of feelings of discomfort and frustration, of dirt when you can't wash your hands anytime you want. And to realize that this is the normal way of being - that if there was some nuclear war tomorrow that this is how we'd be living in an instant - and to appreciate just how much effort it takes to run a modern city with modern conveniences, with it's various laws, construction crews, and just ordinary life in a modern city. It's amazing.
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