Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 21 (English)When I awoke on Saturday morning, I expected that morning to be relatively quiet and relaxed. I knew I had to drive back to Chisinau and find the Donets' apartment on my own. I should leave no later than 1pm. I thought I'll take it easy. Nadina and her relations had other ideas however. As the film shows, first I was introduced to the neighbours' baby. Then Nadina wanted some proper photos of herself by the Fortress and The Candle. As before, all three of us went round together. We also saw Nadina's Aunt and Uncle at their market stall. Then we returned for a late lunch. It was about half past one and I very much wanted to get on my way. I was then introduced to a shy young girl called Alina. She definitely didn't want to be filmed but that's what happened. I hope one day, I can cut the film in a way that she'll like, so she'll happily watch herself. I said goodbye to the Uncle and Aunts. With my usual two companions in the car, and Alina, I was guided to the familiar lower part of Soroca. There, not far from the fortress and the hotel Nistru, we said our goodbyes.
I made it to Chisinau without making any wrong turns and without being stopped by the police. Once there however, I was lost and time was short. As I worried about this, looking for the name of a road, a man in a car waved at me. Oh my God, was this an undercover police officer ? Did Moldova have them ? I pulled over and he pulled over. He seemed friendly and pointed at the indicator of the car, which was hanging out on wires. Given, what I was worrying about, that was a relative relief. "Anglia, Angleecheneen, englezeste", I said expressively pointing at myself and pushed the indicator back in. "Riscani" I added waving my hand in the rough direction where I thought Riscani district might be. I laid out my map of Chisinau on the bonnet of the car and indicated where I wanted to go. He went to his car and fetched a pen and paper. He was Russian and didn't speak a word of English. He drew a clear map on the paper and with arm signals indicated where I should go. Over and over he repeated these. Then when he could see I had some understanding, we said goodbye. I was most grateful. I followed these directions and they worked beautifully. I can't tell you how pleased and relieved I was when I arrived at the Donets's flat about 10 minutes later.
As I went into the Donets's flat, Natalie's delayed birthday party was in full swing (as we say). I was sat down in the middle of a long table in the lounge that I had previously filmed. There were about 20 other people there. All Russians I guessed. Shortly afterwards, Irina "Blondira" arrived as previously arranged. That was a relief. We were both encouraged to eat and drink. I wondered whether Natalie would want to leave so many relations and friends to come to my party. It was approaching the 6 o'clock start time for the party at 129 Columna. It was an awkward situation. But we all left within a short time.
On the way, I went through an amber traffic light turning left into Stefan cel Mare street. I heard a whistle, but hoped it didn't apply to me. It did. A hundred yards further along, I pulled over on Natalie's advice. In my mirror, I could see a white stick being waved. There was one police officer in front of me but we had to wait for the other one who walked over at a normal pace. We all got out of the car. I indicated I was English as usual. Natalie listened to the police officer and said: "he is writing a protocol on you". I wanted to know what that meant. The police officer thought it was amusing. Actually, I think Natalie did very well. Her Romanian was a poor third, behind Russian and English. She probably had to translate it into Russian and then into English. We drove off. It was half past six by the time we arrived at 129 Columna. Would all those girls have gone through the locked door on the sliding gates with spikes on the top ? Especially when the Englishman wasn't even there.
Eleven of them were present when I arrived: Zina, Margarita, Dumitru, Cristina, Sergiu, Raisa, two other men, another blonde girl, Simone and Irina (dark haired and whose letter was mentioned before). I turned to Irina and seconds after I spoke to her, started filming. Shortly afterwards it looked as if Dumitru was going to throw Irina into the sauna or pool. In my first email exchanges with dark haired Irina, she said was doing a journalism course and intended to set up a newspaper. Such optimism and enthusiasm matched the favourable description of young Moldovans given in the Lonely Planet book: "Romania and Moldova". Believe me, Romania looks dull compared to the chapters on Moldova ! Of course one reason that older people are often more cautious is they've been through their enthusiastic phase and learned harsh lessons. What nasty surprises lay in store for this prospective newspaper editor. I felt sorry for Irina. Except…that behind her on a table was a pile of her newspapers. Four months on from launching her newspaper on the internet, it had gone from strength to strength.
Irka arrived with Eleonora, followed by Ana. So I had 16 guests. The food and drink was excellent. I filmed a conversation with Ana, then went to speak to Irka and her friend who was introduced as Laura. Irka mentioned the work she was doing for AIESEC, the international students organisation. Like most Moldovans, Irka wanted experience of the West. She mentioned Ireland. For reasons unknown to me, many Moldovans mention Ireland.
Britain's involvement in the complex history of southern Ireland (Eire) and Northern Ireland is a big story. So I'm never certain where Moldovans "are coming from" with this. Being Irka, there was a teasing smile which suggested she knew things were a bit of a muddle. A more serious point was should she go there with AIESEC if the opportunity arose ? I said the Irish in southern Ireland in particular are known for their warmth and friendliness.
Irka then said that she'd heard it wasn't safe for a girl to go out on her own at night in the UK. That caught my alcohol slowed mind by surprise. The implication was that Moldova is safer in that respect. I agreed with her, reluctantly. "Better to be safe than sorry" as we say. However risk is always a relative thing. There is always some risk and who knows how many offences there are in any one place ? The recording, measurement and publication of offences increases the perception of risk. Also attitudes to offences can vary by region in a country. There was a case in Wales, where a young girl was raped. But in that close community she was blamed for getting the boy into trouble. She must have "asked for it". She should have kept her mouth shut as some girls do in that situation. When the story was reported in the newspapers and on television, the media tore into the hypocrisy of local people there. That's one of the things I love most about our country. It's the way our very powerful media ruthlessly savages hypocrites and wrongdoers.
Irka moved the questioning onto Moldovan girls and why I like them. I took a deep breath. Minutes later:
I: "So why do you think Moldovan girls are so cheerful, positive and helpful ?"
E: "I used to think it was a self defence mechanism" (I then tactfully intended to move away from that position and also wondered whether Irka would understand my English).
I: "Yes, I think you're right" she responded very quickly with a confident expression.
Galina came in and handed me a bottle of champagne, a gift from Alfredo, the Italian intermediary who I had complained about ! Some time later, now very drunk, I walked out into the courtyard with Irina "Blondira". She asked: "do you know any dirty Russian words ?" "No" I said, then remembered that British swear words are the most popular and widely used in the world.
Weeks before flying out, I saw a series of programmes on the British Empire. These were presented by an Irish historian who perhaps surprisingly, delivered a very fair and balanced view of our past. Unexpected was the following (paraphrased) statement made in an African country. "There is only one legacy of the British Empire in this part of Africa. It is the words "F--- OFF !" He added there is nothing to beat the enduring quality of English swear words. On a TV programme before Christmas, a Muscovite lady who doesn't know English, used these same words. The programme focussed on the Mayor of Moscow who encourages the demolition of Muscovites' houses and flats despite their protests so that expensive flats can be installed in their place. Some people are just thrown out into the street. This is done either by the mafia or Russia's largest construction company run by the mayor's extremely rich wife. It's called: "gangster capitalism". The mayor makes the law. The flat owner was told in court that when she bought her flat, she'd just bought the air inside it. The walls belong to the state. The journalist had asked: "If the mayor was standing in front of you now, what would you say to him ?" The response: "F--- OFF !"
I looked into Irina's as usual steady glowing face and said I knew plenty of English swear words. I would have to give an example. Oh no, where was this leading to ? Fortunately, I was interrupted at that point.
I was walked to Stefan cel Mare street by Rita (Margarita) and Cristina. Cristina is the sister of Alina mentioned at the beginning of the book. She definitely isn't a gypsy ! The two of them were propping me up. With us was Dumitru (Dima), Sergiu and another man. Sergiu tried to make conversation but kept returning to the fact that he had chosen either European Studies or International Relations as a choice of degree subject. Yes, wasn't this a bad choice ? He smiled again. His willing acceptance of a lesser fate later reminded me of Iulian's story in Tony Hawks's book. At the time, I was concentrating on staying upright. Rita had met Dima before and they were glad to see each other again.
Sometimes, the capital of Moldova just seems like a large country town. It's easier to think that when you're in a park there. Then something strange happened. As we watched a pop band playing on the other side of Stefan cel Mare, Rita said to me: "that man is looking at me strangely". I could see that one of the guests at the party who had come with us was staring intently at Rita. The fact we were obviously talking about him made no impression. I gave Rita a hug and she looked happier. They wanted to go on but I wanted to go back. So they kindly walked me back. I said goodbye but worried about Rita.
The next day, I learned that she had actually allowed this man back to their apartment along with Dima. This surprised but impressed me. I can't imagine such a thing happening in the UK, US or most countries in Western Europe. I think it says something about Moldova or Eastern Europe generally. One thing I sensed and still sense amongst many Moldovans is the feeling: "we are all in this thing together". Perhaps that is the legacy of a communist regime. To me it is an example of a desire to belong, to be part of and to accept one's role in the community. Because if we don't all play our part properly, we will all be affected by the consequences. That strong belief in community spirit and social responsibility is found in Scandanavia (Norway, Sweden, Finland and Denmark), and Holland too.
I went to bed but didn't sleep very well. I had an upset stomach and was woken up at about 4 o'clock in the morning by what sounded like a strange bird outside. The noise carried on. It was so hot that I couldn't close the window. I was to meet the cause of this disturbance the following day.
Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 22 (English)Ana was expected at 10am. Just before then, I was finally able to get off the toilet. I stepped outside onto the pavement. Immediately I heard a familiar noise. It was a cross between a squawk and a croak. A small leafy branch landed at my feet. I stepped back and looked up. There was what looked like a large raven or crow but with a curved beak. It jumped onto another branch which bent greatly under its weight. Instantly it grabbed a large branch with its beak, effortlessly ripped it off and threw it down. I backed away more. It then jumped onto another branch and did the same thing again. The bird actually looked angry. Can a bird look angry ? Well, its actions indicated anger. It had a white patch on its chest. It can't be angry with me, surely I thought. For a second, I thought this is the "protect Moldova from foreigners bird". It should be the national emblem. It carried on making its horrible noises. The same noises which had kept me awake. Was it an escaped pet ? Well, who would keep a pet like that ? No its actions must be some bizarre mating ritual designed to attract a female of the same strange species. I looked around. There wasn't another bird. It croaked loudly again. I wondered just how aggressive it might be. What size animal or even human would it attack ? If this had been England, I might have thrown a stone at it to see what would happen. Instead, I looked around for Ana and retreated behind the gate.
Ana was late. I got out my mobile and rang her. She answered, then immediately appeared with her phone. How had she got there so quickly ? Later on Ana gave me her address which is on a nearby parallel road. So I guess there's a shortcut. At the time, it felt spooky. I looked at her blankly. I nearly said something about there being an evil sign and her appearing as if by magic. But of course I didn't. Was the bird still there to point out ? If I told Ana what I had seen, would she think I was possibly insane ? Or given that many Moldovans are superstitious, would this be taken as a sign marking me out as a bad person ? Despite continuing an intensive email exchange with my penfriends afterwards, I never felt I could mention this incident. It's just too weird. Moldova isn't the boring country some people think it is.
Ana and I chatted in the courtyard. I thought it would be a good idea to take some photographs.
Galina came out and smiled. She opened the door whenever I rang as I wasn't given a key to this door. Over the days, I was there, her smile got broader and broader as girls and women arrived usually propping me up. She would answer the door and nearly burst into laughter.
We went out and Ana gave me her first tour of Chisinau around Stefan cel Mare. We didn't walk far. She described how she used to play with friends in the park there coming home from school. It all had the feel of a smart 1960s suburb in a posh English country town. There was no litter problem there. Ana could pass herself off as an English girl. She's the only girl I met in Moldova who could do that. Ana could leave Moldova behind and easily fit in to upper middle class English circles. Additionally, like some other Moldovan girls, her personality would also have fitted well into the more class conscious England of 30 years ago.
The (remains of the) English class system often puzzles foreigners. When I first met Barbara, she introduced me to her good friend Ludmila, a Czechoslovakian girl who had fled here as a refugee, aged 19 during "The Prague Spring". (A brief period of freedom given to the Czechs in 1968 by their leader Dubcek, before the Soviet tanks rolled in). Ludmila worked for the BBC's Czechoslovakian service. The two of them shared a cheap rented room. Barbara applied her very high standard of English to help Ludmila who later gained an Open University Masters Degree in history. Ludmila got a job as a history teacher in a state school which had very poor discipline, morale and results. (Much worse than I saw in Chisinau !) Ludmila really had style. She was poor but looked and sounded elegant, graceful and dignified. I saw some of her work and was very impressed. I said to her: "you don't realise just how well you would fit into a private school". She was sceptical but I persuaded her to try. Ludmila applied to work at a school in Sloane Square. She didn't know that only millionaires and the gentry live and send their children there ! She was accepted and months later the poor woman from Bratislava was promoted on merit. She bought her own flat in a smart part of London. She has never looked back.
Ana took me to a favourite café of hers. The main purpose of the meeting was to discuss a business proposal I had. The first part required researching the formation of companies in Moldova. We started to get to know each other. Ana told me she could tell where all the other café's guests had come from. "Behind you are some Italians. They…"
I had first contacted Ana through an email address she supplied with an article on a US site: "Moldova, What Troubles Now". The site was connected with a US organisation she had worked in as an intern in the States. I thought aspects of the article were flawed. I emailed her with a series of questions. Ana replied immediately stating that the article was out of date. But it had only been placed five months earlier. I suspect Ana was having to fit in with the philosophy of her US employer. All other material from her was of the highest quality. She was the only penfriend who immediately supplied me with her phone number – two in fact. She wanted me to phone her. "Chase me, chase me", I thought. Perhaps like children in a park off Stefan cel Mare or perhaps like something else...career advancement ? On the film at the party you can see her heaving her chest as she straightened up while watching me closely. "Why do you need to meet all these girls ?" she said, smiling warmly off camera. I barely heard her above the pumping music. The very tongue in cheek implication was clear. Laughing but being a bit serious at the same time.
Our café discussions were strange for me because I have the sharpest instincts about people and quickly realised Ana has a similar talent. In that situation between a male and a female who like each other, it can be difficult to start and develop a conversation.
At the last meeting I had with my father weeks before he died in March, the subject of a distant relative was raised. I had last seen and heard about him when he was about 5 years old, 25+ years ago. "Don't tell me", I said. "I'll tell you what he grew up to be like and what he's interested in." I did and watched my father shudder. I was spot on. I often shudder as well. In fact I inherited this talent from my parents but use it much more assertively.
My email exchange with Ana had been friendly but formal with no cheekiness. We hardly knew each other. As I sipped my coffee, Ana said: "I like diamonds". She looked at me with a teasing smile. I had given her a bag with two books which Ana hadn't looked at. One of them was "Status Anxiety" by a well known popular author. It described how wealthy upper middle class people twist themselves into knots emotionally "keeping up with the Joneses". The latter is a well known expression. I enjoyed the moment and didn't respond. It was like an intellectual game of chess positively charged with all the feelings you can have between a male and a female attracted to each other.
"The English in your emails is very good", Ana said. How many Moldovans would say that to an Englishman ?! But I read the point behind it immediately. Ana sensed I was motivated to and better at drafting very clear emails, than talking to people. I agreed immediately. She was right. I told Ana where my real skills, intelligence and experience lay. After all this was supposed to be an open and honest business discussion !
Then Ana took me on a little tour. She posed for photographs outside a favourite restaurant. Ana described warmly the good memories she had of central Chisinau. She was in the middle of her final exams. She had to do more revising. She felt she'd been unfairly given only 9 out of 10 for one exam she'd taken. She had to ensure the usual standard was maintained. Ana wanted me to kiss her goodbye by the statue of Stefan cel Mare. She told me Moldovan girls expected to be kissed on each cheek when a man said goodbye to them. She'd told me she knew what the English are like. She was enjoying herself. I reached up on tiptoes to kiss her on each cheek and we said goodbye.
Back in England, I waited for Ana to contact me about starting our little business project in July. However she had omitted to mention one detail. She had applied for a scholarship at the College Of Europe in Bruges. Ah, she needed 10 out of 10 for that and yes, she won it. So Ana went to Belgium at the end of August.
Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 23 (English)It had been arranged that I would visit Zina and her family in the afternoon. From then on, I spent as much time as I could of my last two to three days in her apartment. On returning home, Zina demonstrated the greatest consistency in maintaining a regular email exchange despite working ridiculously long hours. In the summer, her ex husband did something which gave her and her children a lot of heartache.
Then on August 10th, I received the following email.
"Yesterday I met Mr. Shimeket. He said that he had found good work and probably he wouldn't return to the school if everything was O.K. I can understand him, it's very difficult to survive. I heard that half of our school teachers leave school too. It's our big problem.
I can't imagine how I will work without Mr. Shimeket. We have worked for 12 years together."
The effect of this was that Zina had to do Mr Shimeket's work too. So many people depend on and benefit from this lady's talents.
In my view, friendships and relationships fail mostly when people end up staring blankly at one another with nothing to say. Speaking for myself, if I care about someone, I will argue or debate with them. Otherwise, I "won't waste my breath", as we say here. 20 years of marriage has meant 20 years of argument but also a lot of laughter. I like a bit of a drama. That is so even if at the time it is a bit stressful. It's more important that "someone's heart is in the right place" and they learn from life. That is at least the Western view.
It was very hot that afternoon, or so it seemed. I feel the heat more than most people as I'm always warm. In November, Gabriela and I laughed some early mornings in our workplace for while she shivered in her two jumpers, I felt warm in my shirt. We discussed temperatures and I described this particular day in Moldova. "It was at least 30 degrees", I said. "That's not hot. 38 degrees is hot !" she said laughing.
I had decided to take the trolleybus for a change. But it broke down. At the time it wasn't clear to me what had happened. I felt ill again. As I nervously glanced around inside the bus, some passengers went in and out of focus. In 2003, I had suffered some damage to my right eye due to a contact lens infection.
We had been holidaying in Austria on an escorted rail holiday. Heading back through Germany, our stop for the night was at Cologne. The tour guide was not immediately available so I visited opticians in Cologne. But was treated unpleasantly, or so it seemed. Returning to the hotel, I got temporarily lost. Reflecting unhappily on my treatment, I suddenly remembered with horror that the Royal Air Force had bombed Cologne into rubble during the last war. The raids were planned by "Bomber Harris". The raid on Dresden was even worse. The death and destruction in Dresden was so appalling that even Prime Minister Winston Churchill made an entry in his diary questioning its value. Surprising given what the Germans were doing and had done to our cities.
After the war, people came to realise that Air Chief Marshall "Bomber Harris" had decided to wipe Germany off the face of the earth. He nearly succeeded. British people set up and generously funded the Dresden Trust to help rebuild the cathedral there. I found my hotel in Cologne and went up to the receptionist, a very beautiful blonde girl. I explained I needed to get to a hospital and opened my bad eye. She recoiled in horror but immediately started to phone around. At that point, the tour guide appeared and took me to the hospital.
Our next door neighbour, Inge is a German widow and we live in Hurricane Way, named after the Hawker Hurricane which successfully attacked German bomber aircraft over our country. Very fast with 8 forward firing machine guns, hundreds of Hurricanes shot down many more hundreds of German planes. In September 1940, Operation Sea Lion to invade Britain was called off. Russia had to be an easier target…
Aged 77, the same age as my mother, Inge married an occupying British Army officer after the war. A common event despite the fact that our soldiers were at first ordered and then warned to stay away from the "enemy". The "enemy" was made up largely of often beautiful German girls. Relatively few German males had survived. British soldiers who for months had fought house by house, town by town took a different view of this kind of "enemy". Inge complained recently about the thunder. She said: "I always duck as it reminds me of the terrible bombing during the war". As a young girl, my mother lived a short distance from the Enfield Small Arms Factory which made all the British Army's rifles. So my mother knows what Inge means…
Largely thanks to doctors at Cologne Hospital my right eye had been had been set on a healing path. At the end, I could even read the bottom line of the optician's chart. But sight is about more than reading letters. Some of the clarity was lost. The exact expression on someone's face for instance lost as they drifted out of view of my left eye into my right. At bad moments, this still spooks me a little. This felt like a bad moment.
Most people got onto another trolleybus. I hoped it was going towards Ciocana district. It was. I made my way to Zina's apartment. Warmly welcomed, I slumped down and gratefully drank her bottled water. Rita and Sandu were there as well. I drank a lot. Zina went to the shop for more. Then a distant cousin of Zina's arrived. They had grown up together in Calarasi. He was a businessman and knew some English. He had a very powerful presence. The kind of person you notice when they come into a room. My guess is that Zina had told him two things. One that I wanted to help people in Moldova. Secondly, that I wanted to buy property. He suggested that I buy some forested land in Vadul Lui Voda. It would be cleared for social activity designed to benefit disadvantaged youngsters. He sounded very persuasive. I told him I was ill and declined the suggestion but he was persistent.
C: "Look, I'll go halves with you".
I shook my head.
C: "It's only 20 minutes drive. I'll take you".
Z: "I will come with you", said Zina cheerfully
E: "I'm sorry. I'm ill and I'm not going anywhere".
C: "Do you want a pill ? I could take you to a chemist".
E: "I just want water and to stay here".
Given that I was leaning heavily on Zina's good nature and hospitality, this was a difficult position to be in. I had to phone Doina as previously I had agreed that I would pick her up and drive her to Bacoi, south of Chisinau. Doina is a Jehovah's Witness and a Witness friend of hers was trying to sell a small vineyard there. Part of the plan was to pick up Irina, the newspaper editor who also lived there. But when I had spoken to Irina earlier, she wasn't sure she could make it. Doina was disappointed when I told her I was ill and couldn't manage it. Shortly afterwards, Zina's cousin left. Zina was a bit annoyed with me.
Z: "He is a very good friend. If you have any trouble with the mafia or the police, he'll sort it out for you. Once I bought some boots in the market. They were uncomfortable but the lady wouldn't give me my money back. He spoke to her and she immediately gave me my money back.".
Hmmm…anyway almost immediately I sat up and felt better. I felt cooler. Zina looked at me and I looked at her. "I feel better", I said, smiling mischievously. She smiled back. Ironic humour crosses all national boundaries. She went into the kitchen. Rita gave me a doleful smile. I wondered what Rita and Sandu would make of what was happening. How good was their English ?
I thought about Doina. I wouldn't meet her now. She was a friend of Irka. I hadn't known that however when I first contacted her at the same language site that Irka had used. But there was a ghost of a suspicion in my mind as Irka said that she had a Jehovah's Witness friend. Irka asked me what I thought about that religion. Then Doina asked me as well. They both asked me lots of questions generally - nice tactics girls ! Doina also wanted to know what other penfriends I had and contacted one of them whose email address I'd given her by mistake. In fact I think Doina did the right thing. Although I found this a bit annoying at the time, young ladies in that position should be careful and seriously consider such methods. Just don't do it to me – right !
Zina returned from the kitchen.
Z: "Let me get you something to eat".
E: "I would like jam or marmalade on toast and a cup of tea".
Zina looked puzzled.
Z: "Don't you want something else ?"
E: "I'm a simple man in some ways. Even if I was a millionaire, I would still have my toast at least once a day".
Z: "I don't know if we have any jam. How do you have your tea ?"
E: "Just with milk"
Z: "We don't have any milk either. But wait, I think we have a jar of jam somewhere but it has been there for a long time".
She disappeared into the kitchen and produced a jar. She looked at it doubtfully and regarded me defensively.
E: "Let me have a look at it".
She turned away from me.
Z: "No it's not good. What flavour jam do you want ?".
E: "Strawberry, raspberry, whatever. I'm not fussy".
Now, feeling much better, I got out my camcorder and started filming.
Zina insisted on going to the shop to buy jam and milk. I felt guilty about taking so much hospitality from such a poor household. Zina served me a nice cup of tea and a piece of toast.
Z: "I'm not a good cook".
E: "That wouldn't be a problem for me. Like many English people I like simple food.
I have been given so many excellent meals in my life. While I'm eating them, I think I must remember what this is. But even an hour later, I often can't remember what I've eaten. Perhaps the wine was that good… I would probably be just as happy with sausages, baked beans and chips."
On food and cooking, there are real problems in Britain and the US regarding healthy diets. Studies have shown that the junk food many of us eat is affecting our health.
School canteens in the UK and the US serve dreadful junk food. Recent studies clearly show that a child's ability to concentrate and learn is greatly reduced by eating such food. This food is now also being held largely responsible for many of the severe behavioural disorders that affect some children.
Adults too are affected as the popular new American film "Super Size Me" demonstrates. In the States, a man was filmed eating a diet solely obtained from McDonalds' restaurants over a month. His health was monitored by doctors using the most sophisticated technology. After two weeks they pleaded with him to give up as he was damaging his liver and other organs. Towards the end he was gasping for breath as he staggered up two flights of stairs. But he completed the exercise. Trying to solve this problem in the US is difficult because the large companies which supply this food defend their businesses aggressively, even viciously. They deny there is a problem. Here in the UK, our companies simply say that if they don't meet "the demand", someone else will.
In London, popular celebrity chef, Jamie Oliver decided to create and promote cheap, nutritious and tasty school meals. At the start of his campaign, television cameras followed him around the Borough of Greenwich as he persuaded the local educational authority, headteachers and school dinner ladies to accept and use his recipes. Initially however, Jamie found it very difficult to design recipes for two courses costing a mere 37 pence (65 cents). You know, Western food prices are much higher. Also since the kitchen staff only opened boxes and put things in ovens, Jamie started training them. However he found that too many of them knew very little about preparing food, so he asked the Army for help. The Army Catering Corps gave them basic training. Back in the canteens, the children were very reluctant to try the new meals. Outside protesting parents were seen pushing junk food through the iron bars to their children. But over time most children were persuaded to abandon the beef burgers, chips, turkey "twizzlers" and cheap pizza slices they had every day. Then all junk food was stopped. The children are now very positive about this change. Some asthmatics who always used inhalers now don't need them. It isn't clear why but it's good news !
In the evening, we sat down to a nice meal that Zina had prepared. We don't eat many vegetables in the UK so the food I received in Moldova always seemed unusual. I enjoyed it but never got over that feeling of unfamiliarity. Part of my mind was telling me this isn't a meal. Making vegetables taste nice must be an art and Zina was good at it.
Rita sat there looking happy all evening as I chatted to Zina. Sandu came and went.
Much later in the evening, I headed back to my accommodation feeling very content.
Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 24 (English)On July 3rd, Mrs Rubanka, the English teacher from Natalie's Russian school sent me an email. Part of it read:
"An intelligent western male has a risk of getting a girl from eastern countries of the former Soviet Union, because a new generation has been formed since perestroika. And the new generation (I mean girls) is hardly ready to do monotonous, routine work about the house:
to do cooking, washing, cleaning, etc. They are only ready for cloudless future. But alas! they are mistaken. Being a teacher for about 30 years, I can hardly meet such a girl who is ready to do it. Surely, they may be really se? appealing but it is not enough to become happy in future for both partners."
On July 4th, (American Independence Day !), I replied.
"Regarding cooking and housework, the requirements between east and west Europe are very different. As I understand it, to be a good housewife in Moldova, good cooking skills are essential. My wife can't cook. That is typical of most western women. Like most other people, we eat pre-packaged food. Like everyone else, we have a washing machine. Many people use dishwashers here especially if they have children."
Mrs Rubanka holds what is a very widely held view. But in fairness being a good cook is a strong redeeming feature. It might be enough to save some Western marriages. Her "cloudless future" comment is "spot on" for some girls. Fitting into this category were some aggressively enthusiastic Russian lady penfriends from Russia but NOT Moldova. The pattern is very similar. They say they are good at cooking, washing and cleaning. They will be a dutiful wife. (Bad joke from a divorced penfriend: "WIFE" stands for: Washing, Ironing, F---ing, Etc.). Sometimes they say they want children. With this usually comes many old fashioned romantic notions and dreams - all part of a "cloudless future" I could share with them. I had told them repeatedly I was married but it didn't make any difference to some of them. At least two of them were incapable of discussing anything other than their domestic abilities and their dreams. I forced the issue by insisting they tell me about where they lived, what TV programmes they watched, what their mother thought about all this. Departing from piles of romantic hopes came the following comment (paraphrased) from one penfriend. She was not interested in, nor would she discuss matters of "policy". Therefore "our attitudes will not agree". By persistently asking her some ordinary questions, I had gone from hero to zero…
Now, I come to what I consider the make or break issues for Eastern European girls interested in Western men. For the following, I'm setting aside the obvious and still important considerations of personal attractiveness. Some of you will be shocked !
The real question is one of personality. It is much less a matter of fulfilling household tasks. It is necessary to take an interest in the world, to be flexible. To be willing to learn new skills.
To go out in the world and get a job. The job may even be different most days. If you want to hide in the house, then you are looking for a small minority of Western males who will accept that. Secondly, if someone wants you to join their life in the West, ask them what your role will be, what they expect of you. Sound positive and make suggestions. Enquire sensitively and intelligently in different ways. But this isn't acting. You need to be interested. If you think this will put your partner off and it does, they are unlikely to be suitable. Even if your life ends up mainly as a housewife, it is still highly desirable to have the above attitudes and attributes.
Lifestyles often change quickly in the West. Just by asking you should impress the "intelligent western male" [Mrs R.]. To the above, I add general good advice for any couple in any country. Ask your partner what they want to do in their life. Where would they like to be in x number of years time ?
I want to expand on the question of personality. For some of you this could be painful. The example I use is a real one by an American, Alexander Blakely. He set up a multi million dollar business in Novosibirsk, the capital of Siberia. It's all in his book: "Siberia Bound".
Mr Blakely was initially attracted to Novosibirsk when he briefly met a gloriously attractive Siberian girl while on holiday near there. He was so entranced, he learned Russian to communicate with her. When he met her, she was as perfect as he hoped. But after a while, there were problems with the relationship. He slept with her but she refused to respond as he'd hoped. She for her part felt that she was fulfilling all the functions, a dutiful wife or girlfriend should do. She was, but it wasn't enough. She was an "ice maiden" and he wanted a fuller relationship. He wanted to feel her respond. Generally he wanted more feedback and interaction. He was a graduate of the world beating Harvard Business School. She was just an ordinary but lovely Siberian girl. So this apparently perfect match failed.
I was attracted to buy this book because my longest standing penfriend, Svetlana lives in Novosibirsk. She is totally different from the Russian penfriends described above. The review by an American business journalist in Russia said that the author was one of the few Americans to find out how business is done in Russia. The journalist said he was sick and tired of reading scripts by American businessmen complaining about Russian business methods. Scripts explaining how their businesses failed because the Russians wouldn't accept the American's greater wisdom. Mr Blakely partnered up with a very capable Russian businessman. He had learned Russian well by then. "Siberia Bound" and this journalist's review should be standard reading for any Westerner thinking of doing business in Russia.
So that's the bad news. Here's the good news. I'm sure at least 70% of Moldovan friends who I met would pass the personality test. As for those who think they might lack personality, well it isn't always a requirement. Sometimes it's a disadvantage. If you live in some parts of the British Isles like Scotland or Wales with certain types of people, you might be expected to be mainly simple and straightforward. Work on a farm perhaps looking after sheep. Farm life in Britain today is however often so difficult you might want to go back to Moldova ! British farmers have the highest suicide rate in the country. Few people want to work on a British farm. But perhaps you would give it a try ! Or if you're really desperate, there's always the Falkland Islands…
Now, finally here's a very different, interesting and relevant view on this issue supplied by Ioana in Romania in an email on June 25th. I had put the following statement to my penfriends.
"From an intelligent Western male's point of view, it's a real turn off having an (Eastern European) girl repeating strongly: 'I'll be a brilliant cook, an affectionate and faithful wife'."
You have read Mrs Rubanka's response. This is what Ioana had to say.
"Let us ask ourselves for a moment what kind of girl would repeat this leitmotif on the internet????? What would be her profile?
1. It can be the housewife type.... the kind of a person that should have been 20 years old in the 50's, maybe, in the States or something.
The outcome of a marriage with this kind of a person:
- good, healthy meals, (3 times a day),
- nice kids, polite, etc etc etc…
- a loving, homely environment
What more can a man want? (Profile of a man who'd look for this life: well... the teacher/ doctor/ priest/ bank clerk type.... working in a small town, or something, who would just want a cosy life.) So what's wrong with that?
You cannot tell me that Brits are not like that anymore... because I have met a few... coming to Romania and falling for beautiful, nice, Romanian girls.... the housewife type… (The thing is that these particular girls were also college graduates, therefore educated and intelligent persons) …which brings me to the second type…
2. It can be the normal-not-money orientated type of girl…there are such girls, on the planet, too…maybe they're too romantic, looking for the right guy (even if from abroad), and maybe they're ready to assume the responsibility of having a NICE LOVING family above all…and a career, secondly…
I have quite a few friends like that…extremely intelligent, but just…not interested in pursuing a career…and sacrificing everything else for that.
Now, in my opinion, the flaw comes from the fact that they emphasise too strongly this "housewife" feature. And I know…for W. Europe…that's decadent, dusty and totally boring…
I think those friends of yours were not REALLY turned off by this description ONLY !
Now…about the disappointing part…he might be right…consumer-culture is far from being a paradise…but indeed, it is far more exciting than Eastern boring domestic routine.
But the bottom line is: someone should take their horse-glasses off!"
Ioana, we call them "blinkers" !
Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 25 (English) On the Monday morning I took minibus 155 to Zina's flat. It arrived at an important stop just off a junction with Stefan cel Mare. "Milescu Spataru" I said to the driver. He said something which suggested he wanted to know what number. "Zece" I said, impressed with myself for remembering this word. Disappointedly the driver responded in English. He gave me change by extracting notes held by a clip on the roof above him.
Thankfully Zina had the whole day off. It was the day before the final school day. As I look back, it is difficult to remember much of what happened. Early on we went to her friend Lena's apartment in the next block. There Zina and Lena (Elena) fed me well and gave me lots of excellent Moldovan wine. Some things are on the camcorder footage I took.
When you meet someone for the first time close up you don't always get the full size and shape of them. Lena was wearing loose fitting clothes. Seated, looking up at Lena early on, I was struck by her large bare feet and powerful lower legs. Because parts of a body tend to be in proportion, this told me she was strong. Lena had a big frame. She too had come from Calarasi
where she supervised farm workers on land there. She had a husband and two children who we saw from time to time. Jokingly, I thought to myself this is the local Calarasi mafia who have taken over these apartments. We sat down in Lena's kitchen. She kept topping up my wine glass.
E: "Zina, will you tell Lena that I want her to match me drink for drink".
Z: "Sorry, say that again please".
E: "When I drink some of Lena's wine, I want her to drink the same amount".
Zina spoke to Lena. Lena poured out a large glass and drank all of it in about 4 seconds. I was astounded.
E: "Tell Lena that I will drink her under the table"
Z: "Sorry, please explain"
E: "I challenge Lena drink by drink. It's an English expression: 'to drink someone under the table'." I gestured with my hand.
Zina spoke to Lena. They both started laughing.
L: "Sous la table ?"
E: "Oui oui, sous la table". I pointed at Lena and made a gesture that she would be under the table.
They laughed very loudly. I joined in and this went on for at least a minute. They kept repeating: "sous la table". Zina and I had watery eyes.
We jokingly discussed men, women, married life, the effect of alcohol and the different physical strengths of men and women. On my first evening with Zina, she had asked the following.
Z: "What are you like when you're drunk ?"
E: "Oh I get very jolly".
Before I came, a TV documentary described how Romanian husbands often badly mistreat their wives. I decided not to watch it. My mother had read a large article in "The Daily Telegraph" newspaper on this subject. She was appalled, but added laughing: "Oh they'd love you !" That first evening, I had opened my mouth to mention these news items to Zina. Then thought: "shut up Eddie".
Later on and now very drunk in Lena's bedroom, I said something cheeky about Lena to Zina. Seconds later Lena picked me up with one arm and threw me some distance onto the bed. We all laughed.
A few weeks after returning home, I phoned Zina.
Z: "We are still laughing about your visit. I have never laughed so much in my life."
E: "I would like to fight you" I said jokingly
We both laughed.
Z: "I will fight you. I will fight you and with Lena's help I will throw you on the bed."
Much later I had become very drunk. Zina suggested I stay the night in her apartment. I knew it was an innocent, well intentioned offer. The following morning would start early with the end of year celebrations at her school. I declined for two reasons. The first was that I wanted to comfortably tell Barbara where I had slept every night. In fact this was one of her first questions ! Secondly I thought it would place Zina in a difficult position if she ever had to acknowledge to another person that a Western male 3 years older than her had slept in her flat. The story would probably have got longer by the time it had been passed onto the third person…
Zina was in a difficult position.
Z: "Some women here think I'm a bad woman"
E: "Why ?"
Z: "Because my husband isn't with me"
E: "That's ridiculous. You know people like that wouldn't find any friends in our country. We'd regard them as bigoted, two faced scumbags".
There was a pause.
E: "In this very closed community, and given your position, you're in a difficult position. You can't be seen wobbling out of a night club, drunk with a man on your arm. It's difficult for you to develop a relationship."
Z: "Well, no-one would be interested in me at my age".
E: "You know, I don't know why Moldovan women think that after a certain young age, they've had their chances. Where I come from, you would be considered a very attractive woman.".
Zina and Elena laughingly liked to mention "bad women" and being a "bad woman".
I had been told a few stories by Moldovan penfriends which I won't repeat. But they left me with a feeling which I jokingly and cynically put as follows:
E: "What I like about Moldova is that if I went with a 'bad woman', I'd still be good. There are no 'bad men' in Moldova, only 'bad women'."
Zina and Elena decided it was unwise to let me stagger back on my own. They supported me and took me back. When Galina opened the door, she was greatly amused as usual.
Welcome To Moldova ! Chapter 26 (English) I got up early to settle the bill with Galina and drive my car to park outside Liliana's Baptist College in Alexander Hajdeu street. I was worried as Galina and myself shared no more than about two dozen words of Romanian. However it went very well. Her assessment was the same as my own. The whole process took under 5 minutes and we were laughing most of the time. When I return to Moldova, I look forward to staying there again. Galina pulled open the gates. I waved as I drove past and stopped, waiting for the traffic to pass. Immediately I saw two wild dogs in front of me. It seemed they had claimed the driveway opposite and were now barking and running after cars driving past. As I watched I was sure one of them had been run over. But incredibly it reappeared unharmed.
Momentarily it reminded me of something I'd read. A book on Romania said that packs of wild dogs are a serious problem there. Someone may walk out of a supermarket, down a path to be threatened by a pack of dogs which steal their food. I drove out and thankfully the dogs ignored me. A few yards further on however, there was a mass of Moldovan police. I felt uncomfortable. As I arrived at the junction, I could see water everywhere. A water main had obviously burst. The police felt this needed at least 8 officers to monitor. I have to say however that they always look smartly dressed in the centre of Chisinau. Once through without being stopped, I headed for Liliana's place of work and parked the car. As previously agreed with Liliana, she would accompany us to the airport later on.
I was running late. It was hot that day and I really felt it. As I arrived at a major junction, I looked left and up the hill. There were parked cars there which looked like taxis. I decided to risk the diversion. When I reached them, I found they were taxis. The taxi driver wanted 30 lei which seemed a bit much but I was in no position to argue. Off we went.
I was late arriving at the school. But just in time to film Rita coming out to deliver her speech. Rita apparently always has at least two boyfriends. I could see why. Until I filmed, I had no idea she was such a celebrity. The previous evening I had wickedly filmed her having her hair cut. Now I saw her in a different light. Months later she won an award for acting. After the speeches, there was dancing. The people there encouraged me to join in and everyone enjoyed themselves.
After the celebrations we headed back for a meal. I phoned Liliana to arrange a time when she would be free. I thought Zina was slow to get out of the flat. Zina, Lena and myself had only gone a few yards when Zina stopped by a manned cubicle to have her high heeled shoes repaired. This went on for at least 15 minutes. I was annoyed. We were now going to be late. This was unwise as I knew that Liliana's employer or work requirements could be demanding. Later Zina complimented me on being so punctual. Once in Chisinau, having been impressed by the Russian driver's directions, I decided to ask for directions from people at market stalls near where the water main had burst. The water had subsided and the police were gone. Zina spoke to them but they were hopeless. They had no map reading skills at all and didn't even know the part of their city a few blocks further on. Eventually I persuaded Zina and Lena to tell them we were going and we went.
I hurried Zina along impatiently. One unusual aspect of mine is that I dislike high heeled shoes when worn inappropriately. Otherwise I think I ignore them. My family is very practical. My mother, her two sisters, my wife and her mother have rarely if ever worn high heeled shoes. Most unusual but that's how we are. Zina wasn't to know that. She was impressed that I knew where to go but in fact the route wasn't difficult. Many people around the world have to find their way around cities using maps. But I wonder just how adventurous Moldovans are in their own country. Up to a third of the population may be out of the country at any one time travelling around large complex foreign cities and other places…but in Moldova..? One internet article I read on Moldova said many citizens in Chisinau have never travelled into their own countryside. But will probably have flown to Moscow. I think the article exaggerates the situation. However it was the case under the Soviet system that restrictions on movement meant that people needed permission to travel out of their area. This may have limited some peoples' horizons. A recent population census indicates that most Russian Moldovans live in the cities but 80% of the countryside is inhabited by Romanian Moldovans. That fact might partly explain the above – if it's true. In Mr Shimeket's class at the Petru Zadnipru school the lesson was how beautiful the countryside is. So how well do you know your own country ?
We arrived at what I later realised was the crossroads from which on the other side of the road, I'd seen the taxis. I peered across anxiously and uncertainly and turned around.
E: "Come on hurry up ! We're going to be well and truly late", I shouted. Zina wobbled awkwardly on the uneven road.
L: "Hello, I was just coming out to get some food and drink"
Startled, I looked around. It was Liliana. I tried to change the expression on my face. Zina arrived looking fed up at first. Liliana looked at the three of us thoughtfully. I made the introductions.
After tea and biscuits in Liliana's office, they directed me to the airport. I handed over the car and changed my currency. We waited and chatted.
E: "You know I was really worried before I come to Moldova because the only casual shirts I have are from places in Europe which I've visited. I didn't want these to be seen as I thought I might get mugged."
Liliana laughed and smiled broadly.
L: "They wouldn't be able to read the words anyway".
Liliana and Zina bought me a cassette of Moldovan pop music. It was Liliana's sense of humour. Her thinking: you like Moldova ? we'll give you as much as you can handle and let's see what happens ! My new mobile phone was of no use to me now so I gave it to Zina. That was only fair considering the amount of hospitality she had given me. We were all sad and emotional. I waved goodbye to them as I disappeared into the customs hall.
I have stayed in touch with all my Moldovan penfriends. In fact it takes up much of my evenings and weekends.
I was deeply impressed by the warmth, friendliness and hospitality I found in Moldova. When I said that to Mr Shimeket at the school, he commented.
Mr S: "If you burn popcorn, it will smile and crackle as if with pleasure".
Hmmm…do I and other Westerners perversely benefit from Eastern Europeans' suffering ? Do you treat us better because of it ? Sometimes I wished I could bottle the goodness and take it home with me. Strangely I felt like a "thief", but one taking something with no recorded value, leaving no-one the poorer. If I take your hospitality, magically the pot will be refilled – I hope. In return I gave gifts to all my Moldovan friends. But why should I want anything to do with people who have so little ? Stefana asked me a question.
S: "how can you like people who are so poor ?"
E: "why not ?" I said cheerfully.
Here's one fact about our country which may surprise you. Students and recent graduates here have so much personal debt that the average 22 year old Moldovan is financially better off. We like and respect our own young people. Of course the 22 year old graduate here can probably get even more credit (debt), a well paid job and live with their parents. Many Westerners are wary of dealing with Eastern European girls. I hope the advice I have given is useful.
In fact most of my Moldovan penfriends asked me sensible questions anyway. The warmth and sensitivity of their enquiries came off the computer screen. These girls seeming vulnerability attracted me further. Their English amused me greatly. Their stories made my eyes watery. Eventually their heartwarming sincerity, decency and openness became so overpowering I felt intoxicated. I had to meet these intriguing people and see this fascinating world. Because if I didn't, I would be a mere actor. A voyeur - someone peering insincerely into other peoples' business. But if I had to pick one person who guided me to your country, it would be Marisha (Marina Vozian). In the five months until my arrival, Marisha exchanged a huge number of emails with me. She was usually at home in the winter and if so always replied within hours, if not minutes. Progressively, I gained a clearer picture of Moldova. Marisha's pleasant and efficient style informed me well. I could have been a timewaster but Marisha trusted me. For that I am very grateful. In November, the idea of actually visiting Moldova would have seemed crazy. By February, I knew I had to come.
Many of us western Europeans would I'm sure like to preserve much of Moldova's culture and appearance as it is. To see changes made thoughtfully and sensitively. To not see Moldova trampled underfoot by masses of tourists, oppressed by large, badly designed and sited buildings and offended by cheap, bad taste advertising. You definitely don't want any part of the vice industry seen in the West. Hence my comment to Val and many caring Westerners general dislike of the effects of some commercialism. But that's easy for us to say as we fly back to a much more comfortable lifestyle. Suffer for the pleasure of people like me or live more prosperous lives and feel you've lost part of your soul ?
No, believe me there is a middle way and I hope that's the path your country takes.
On Christmas Eve, I received an internet Christmas card from Ana. She had returned home for Christmas. The card said: "may all your dreams come true".
I replied: "Dear Ana,
Thank you, but you are in one of my dreams... Do you want to know what I have in mind..?!"
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