First off, I'd like to officially thank Ireland and Scotland. If it weren't for the ample drinking opportunities in those countries I would have been seriously unprepared for the shit show that is Moldova. "Why Moldova?" you might ask (or more appropriately, "Where the hell is Moldova?"). One of my favorite people, lovingly referred to as Weird Kate, has spent the last two years in the small, former Soviet Union country in Eastern Europe serving in the Peace Corps. We caught her at the tail end of her stint and were barely able to down the drinks fast enough keep up with her and the other volunteers. In addition the two years of intense liver conditioning by homemade moonshine, Weird Kate and the others are in serious celebration mode in anticipation of their impending release ("completion of service" if you're being unrealistic). After being here, I'm not sure how any of the Peace Corps Volunteers will leave without a drinking problem. If the volunteering pressures and being away from your family for two years isn't enough, Moldova drinks more per capita than any other country, the winters are unbearably harsh (to the point that most of the volunteers keep a pee cup in their bedrooms so they don't have brave the cold just to go to the bathroom) and in a recent survey, Moldovans were rated the most unhappy (unhappiest of) people...in the world. And let's not forget the fact that vodka is cheaper than water. I don't think you can afford not to have a drinking problem here.
From what else I can deduce, Moldova's national holidays, sports and crimes are all derived directly from drinking. I have spent exactly zero sober days in Moldova and I don't think I'm setting any records here. Oh sure, there were days I planned on not drinking. Inevitably her neighbors would wave us over to introduce themselves and three hours later we'd leave their house fed and thoroughly wasted. Just the other morning we went to the local corner store from her house on the way to the bus and the store owner, delighted to see W. Kate, ushered us in and told us to quickly shut the shop door behind us. He then set out to pouring us all shots vodka and then sent us on our way with a candy bar and a cookie. Milky Ways and vodka are apparently the scone and coffee of the on-the-go breakfast in Moldova.
The volunteers have even developed a little drinking game to keep their spirits up (or to further rationalize their binge drinking). They have a popular bottled beverage here called Festival (very festive indeed). It looks, smells and tastes exactly like an orange soda. So much so that one of the volunteers was actually drinking them at work everyday unaware of the 6% alcohol content. I can only image what the locals thought of the American teacher drinking cocktails on the way to school everyday. The aforementioned game is based off the fraternity house shenanigans where someone hides a Smirnof Ice (an equally disgusting sweet bottled beverage) and anyone who unsuspectingly finds it must immediately get on one knee and chug the entire drink. Kelly and I, being the new victims of this game, were targeted mercilessly the first few days in Moldova. We'd stumble upon them in our toiletry cases, under our pillows and in bathroom stalls, where our new friends would be waiting just outside to witness our most recent Festivalling. Little did they know, Kelly and I would end up being such quick learners that people started falling at our hand regularly. We shoved them in people's sleeping bags for them to find at the end of the night and then placed them in the showers to be found the next morning. They may have regretted enlisting us in the Great Festival War of 2012 afterall.
We were also lucky enough to catch a major drinking holiday this past week (by the way, there is a holiday about every other day in this country). Hrom (spelling to be verified, it is at least pronounced with a big phlegm inducing "H" at the beginning) is a big to-do in the city of Balti. Hrom kicks off with a big wrestling tournament in the square, the coveted prize being the big brown sheep that is bleating just outside the ring. After the victor has claimed his sheep the main festivities begin and, from what I can tell, that simply means you start your all-day drinking binge. We met up with a bunch of volunteers at the celebration, posted up under one of the bar tents and promptly began ordering bottle after bottle of vodka. The next day we were excited/obligated to help Weird Kate with a local school event where we were supposed to bring 130 ice cream cones to the kids. We drug our post-Hrom asses out of bed and struggled through the three hour bus ride to the school. Arriving only 15-20 minutes late, we strolled in to swiftly complete our duty and leave being the awesome Americans who brought everyone ice cream. Little did we know, the teachers had waited for us so we wouldn't miss the big performance. Hungover and unshowered, the director ushered us to the front of the auditorium as the esteemed guests where we then had to sit through an hour of children singing/wailing in a language I can't even understand. In the end, the ice cream was severely melted by the time the performance ended resulting in my least favorite thing (especially after a night of drinking my weight in vodka); sticky children. That alone was enough to almost cure my Moldovan drinking problem. Almost.
If you can guess what we're doing in this picture I'll give you a prize (hint: Kelly and I don't know either)
sticky kids = oh hellz no
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