Back in Balti

And the "Balti" is pronounced "belts". A small Soviet-esque city in the north of the Republic of Moldova, and described in the first passage of this blog.

I will have to tell about Iasi later. Suffice to say that I had a nice time there, but felt the need to keep moving. One thing: I rented a small, inexpensive car while there, with the intent of driving today in the early morning to visit some of the famous frescoes on the monasteries some 120 kilometers from Iasi. When I woke up this morning, however, it was foggy and rainy, and I feared that I would not make it back to Iasi in time to return the vehicle, retrieve my baggage, and get to the bus for Balti. So I left the car, virtually unused, for the rental company, kissed my deposit good-bye, and took a taxi to the ancient, smelly mini-bus.

The very chummy Russian speaking lady who took my fare tried to have me seat in the suicide seat, which it truly might have been, for the spider-web cracks along the head level of the glass. But I do not ride shotgun on Romanian or Moldovan roads without a functioning seat belt, which this bus lacked. I took my chances in the back amongst the other weary travelers.

It is unusual enough for an American, or any foreigner not from the immediate vicinity, to travel around here that it creates some good natured curiosity and questions. I was lucky enough to duck them, however, when the woman and her friend gave up upon realizing that they had as much chance of getting a reliable response from the WWII vintage seat cushions. I was comfy enough and dozed in and out of consciousness.

I woke at the border, about an hour later. Everyone was very nice. Someone decided that I must be a journalist. I looked back and saw that there was one very old man with several very old and very heavy bags. He had a habit of saying "O-PAH!" when he sneezed, coughed, or had to stand up, sit down, or move his bags. The expression means something like "Wow". He was harmless. There was a lifetime member of the funny furry hat club in one of the front seats, along with a stout, hearty thing I took to be his storm and strife. Then there was a university age student about halfway back the mini-bus. Mind you, we were very lucky, as on the weekend, or during peak months, the bus, build for 12, will easily transport twice that many, plus luggage and yes, even animals at times (I was once the victim of a goose attack on a journey three years ago. We both survived).

So, dozing with my head bouncing now and then against the filth-encrusted window, just passing the border into a tiny country that is squeezed like a piece of baloney between the thick bread of Romania and Ukraine, you can imagine that I was surprised to hear a meek voice say "Andrew?"

Amazing. The student, Lilia, had been a student at "Alec Russo" Universitet in Balti, Moldova, when I was a professor there three years ago. She had not been my student, but, as it is not such a large university, and there have been very few foreign professors before or since, she apparently remembered me. Not only did she remember me, but she remembered the color of the coat that I wore when I worked there, and that I always dressed "elegant" to work. Remarkable. (Later she conceded that the contrast betwixt my suits and the hungry and homeless style of wardrobe adorned by the majority of Peace Corps volunteers in the region made the distinction clear and easy to remember.)

We spoke for the remaining two hours or so. She said that she had been hesitant to speak to me in English as she considered her English to be poor. Accounting for the fact that it is her fourth or fifth language, I regarded it as fantastic. She told me how she traveled to Cluj, Romania about once a month to visit her boyfriend and that she smuggled cigarettes over the border in that direction, to sell for a small but useful profit. It reminded me of when I brought blue jeans into then Soviet Era Czechoslovakia. All in all chatting with Lilia was a nice introduction and fortuitous of what I would come to experience when I reached the university.

My plan was to go to the university right away, leave my bags in the faculty room, and seek out accommodations and a warm meal. That is pretty much what I did. I arrived and was very warmly greeted by several of the professors, my former colleagues. I was also greeted, with what I sensed as mixed feelings, by four former students of mine who are now instructing at the university. I found that at least three were now married, another has a baby, and so on. I was reminded about something that I never really forgot: that Moldovans are kind, generous, and above all, highly educated people.

The former Chairwoman of the department, Ana, disappeared for a few moments and returned with good news: not only had she found me lodgings, they were free of charge. The university had a few spare apartments they reserved for visiting faculty and VIPs. There were two beds, a small television, and since no one was using the other four apartments, a private toilet and shower (in fact, three toilets, so I may designate them for different times of the day). Even though it seemed a bit chilly, and the TV had only one horribly annoying Russian talk show station, I was pleased as punch and grateful to have a private space. I had planned to stay in the home of the family of the little girl whom I will be transporting, but honestly, this is much better for me on many levels.

Speaking of the little girl: I guess that pink backpack I have been toting around will be put to good use. She was issued her visa today, so, as far as I understand it, she will be able to travel with me later in the week. Good, good news that.

Digs done, I was scheduled with some professors to visit their classes tomorrow. So I have a full schedule tomorrow. With relatively nothing to do, I was grateful to be asked. I had no idea if I would be greeted well or not, but I was humbled by the response.

It was not all hugs and kisses, though. One woman who, truth be told, I do not blame for not appreciating me in any form whatsoever, was my ex-landlady. I had only stayed in her apartment for a few weeks before moving out. I scanned the market and other apartments and found that I was being gouged and frankly, it was a pretty uncomfortable place. She was put out that I wanted a better value, and I was annoyed that she would, despite an understanding that she would not, enter the apartment when I was not present. Not to drag all of this up, however, as it really does not matter now, and I do understand that I can be a very difficult person with whom to deal. However, within the first few moments of our being in the same place, she brought up to two others and myself, in what on the surface was a laughing matter, how displeased I had been with the apartment. I laughed and said something (probably stupid) and tried to leave it alone. she responded with "Ah, Andrew, you have not changed at all" to which I replied, "I only wish that were a compliment," at which we all, including semi-evil annoying landlady and I, laughed. (But she was thinking evil thoughts, I could feel them.)

My Internet time is about up, I have no more local money, the exchanges are closed, and the money that I have from Romanian no one here will change anyway. Romania is entering the EU next month, and people have until then to turn in the old money for the new. In Romania. Here, they stopped taking it a month ago. Now I have what equates to a $40. souvenir piece of paper the size and shape of a ratty dollar bill.