Lost in Moldova

Well it's official...I'm in Moldova. I arrived on the 24th. Yesterday Jessica, another intern, and I toured the town. It was a lot of fun, and she answered more questions than I even knew I had...which was amazing. I got to see a lot of the city, visit the office, see her place, shop for some groceries, etc. After I got home, I settled into my new place....which is extremely nice. The executive director of the microfinance organization just built a new house. I live in the basement...thus, I have a brand new apartment which is nicer than some of the apartments I've seen in the states. I'm very blessed. This morning, I tried to come into work for my first day. I thought I could find the office by myself. I'd already been there at least 4 times. So I started a venture that I will further explain to you...

...I felt confident as I got ready this morning. Nice gray business capris, a cute sleeveless top, heals on my feet, and trendy sunglasses in my purse. I grabbed everything I thought I would need for the office, including my laptop and all it's supplies. I threw my things into a green saddle bad and the rest into my small purse. I started what I expected to be about a mile walk from the house and put on my shades as the sun beamed down. It was a gorgeous day and the walk was beautiful, but I have to admit, I wasn't completely sure where the office was located. I took a left, then a right, then two more rights. I hit an intersection and started to question which way to go next. Here's when I started applying the Scripture read that morning from my Utmost devos "pray without ceasing". I was hoping the Spirit would lead me straight to the office...I was poorly mistaken. After looking down two streets which seemed identical to me, I went straight. I started to wonder how all these Moldovan women do it, walking everywhere with their high stilettos. My heals were only an inch and a half, and before long, I opted to go barefoot instead. Now with many people staring while I held my worst enemy, heals, I continued to walk straight hoping a familiar landmark would pop out. I was optimistic until the street ended with a large scenic outlook. Although it was beautiful, I would have much rather seen the overgrown trees outside the office building. At this point, my computer felt like it weighted 50 pounds and my bare feet were about to kill me. Before I returned to my house, ask for directions, and walk even further, I decided that I needed a break to preserve this moment.

Here I am. I'm on a wooden park bench with Moldovan techno music blaring from the heavily trafficked street. Market Salut, a fancy restaurant dec-ed out in bright yellow stands tall. A stray dog is resting in the shade in front of me, and business-looking people rapidly pace back and fourth on the wide, double-layered side walks broken up by white-painted trees. The books were right about the air. It's clean and fresh, but they forgot to mention one small detail. The smell of tobacco comes and goes rather quickly as so many carry cigarettes in hand.

I must return, but this was anything but a failure. A cultural experience to say the least. Or maybe all cultural experience involve some sort of failure.


P.S. I'm now at the office...all is well and starting my first day at work analyzing statistics. What? Crazy.