Obsessed with the Perfect Bid List

Have you found yourself going over and over your bid list, putting one city up and one down, re-ordering and all the while with 6-7 or 10 criteria running through your head, in addition to the obvious of what is a good professional opportunity. Where is it more or less expensive, where can your spouse supposedly find work, where is the school supposed to be better, where can you get a better house …? All the questions one might ask oneself when deciding on a move for any job, except you will be thinking only for the next two years. And then maybe doing it again.

I would say there is no perfect bid list, mostly because: 1) There are no perfect things in life; 2) As anyone who has ever moved to a foreign country can confirm – happiness does not come from having the ‘perfect’ job or ‘perfect’ house or learning the ‘perfect’ language. If you work with the right people, at an interesting time, if you are honestly excited for the new place rather than just knowing rationally what fits your criteria chances are you can find happiness whatever your next post will be (…and hopefully it was in your top 20 at least…). Similarly misery can come from working with the wrong people, on the wrong issues, and finding yourself in a place you don’t really enjoy but thought might be great because it’s reasonable close to your in-laws or it teaches you French, for example.

How do you get to be happy in a new place is so personal and takes knowing yourself so well, that it is almost the same impossible question as how to be happy in any permanent place – except with less time to ponder and practice. By the time you learn all the places you like you might have to pack up again. Really the question is: How do you stay happy through moving and change; rather than: What are the perfect conditions of a post that will make you happy once you get there? There are no such conditions.

Think of all the major changes and moves in your life: moving to college, to a graduate school, for a new job… you might always spend the first year or so mulling over how great life was before, and in the end it becomes a home where you have made friends, memories, why not started a family, and you leave nostalgic when and if it is ever time to move again. And just like that you never know whether doing a  tour in Moscow versus Bangkok has really determined your chance for happiness in the next 2-3 years. Moscow might be in your region of interest but the Sun might just shine stronger in Bangkok. Juggling city names up and down your list, after the first 5-6 times at least, becomes meaningless. It’s the adventure you signed up for.

And having said all that, we all know that it is still good to have goals. And this post will come back to beat me on the head, and kick me in the butt one day. This will be the day when I say that I need no more “adventure” and no more excitement – just a stable job- house-school –friends living situation. But I know this is just as idealistic as the ‘perfect post’. So for now we will just take things as we go.

 

 

În România

I was excited to visit Romania, a new country for me, two weekends ago. During Orthodox Christmas. Only to find out that I am kind-of still in Moldova, or as some would say – that I haven’t left Romania….hmmm let’s stop here. In any case, we did pass a border and a very legitimate-looking one.  

We made it to Iasi, old capital of the historical Moldova region. The main street bore the same name as the main street in Chisinau- Stefan cel Mare, medieval vojevod of this historical region - with its own statue of Stefan cel Mare on the main square. Talk in Chisinau is that the statue in Iasi is less authentic and might actually be representing a Polish king. The truth is they are quite different: in Iasi he is Stefan the warrior or the explorer mounted on a horse; in Chisinau he is Stefan the statesman, standing on a  pedestal and holding high a cross. Actually I always thought he was holding a book of laws but I just double-checked and he is in fact holding a cross. As you can see I am making up the symbolic in my (neighborhood-)foreigner’s head. But I would love to read more about it – if you have any links or stories to share …

The mall nearby Stefan cel Mare, just as in Chisinau, is called MallDova – apparently MallDova was a chain. Bue it is nothing like its Chisinau counterpart – more like an old-style and much darker shopping center. Yet our little baby got his first and favorite pair of sneakers there – and boy does he love these shoes!

If you ever go to Iasi, in weather friendlier than early January, the one thing I would recommend is walk by and walk in (yes, it is worth the 3 Lei entrance fee!) Casa Dosoftei – the old and tiny three-room literature museum.  The building itself reminding of a small historical train station from the outside, stands out as you approach the much grander Palace of Culture. Dosoftei was the first to begin translating religious books in Romanian and set up the first Romanian-language printing house in that same building. St. Paraskeva cathedral (or The Cathedral in Iasi) is also worth seeing both on the inside and outside with the yard and elaborate front entrance and gate looking down to the lower city.

The main attraction by which a trip to Iase is ‘sold’ to Americans in Chisinau is Little Texas; hence I though I should mention it. But really the city itself is much more worth exploring than the hotel and big mall per se. Even though in winter time the young Iasi intelligentsia does seem to hang out in Iulius Mall. And Iulius Mall contains the biggest number of coffee shops in the public areas (with smoking still allowed) that you may see in a mall. In the summer it must be much livelier outside as well, since Iasi is also a big university city.

Until soon!

Memories of Washington DC

Yesterday I started reminiscing about Washington DC, really in detail. It rarely happens. It takes living in a  place for 6-7 years to be able to feel the place this same way. The hot and humid summer and ice-cold air-conditioned buses, where you need to pull a sweater out of your purse, the 32 and 36 bus ride to Eastern Market on a Sunday through town - passing by M Street,  Washington Circle, by the White House, mall and Capitol Hill area – Ottoman breakfast at Cafe  8, and stroll throught the flea and food market. Or the walk down 35th street, past Georgetown Visitation and Saxby’s and the home/garden store on the left corner that I have never been in. Especially in spring, summer and fall with always well-landscaped gardens and big trees. Even though I knew I am and wanted to be getting out of that neighborhood, to see a new country, develop our life, family, careers, I still somehow took it for granted that I will stroll down those Georgtown streets indefinitely. And after having our first baby there it felt that we are already forever tied to that place, no matter where life takes us in the future.  Going to the farmers’ market in the next-door parking lot every Saturday in the summer and coming back with almond croissants, tomatoes, cucumber and lettuce every single time. Standing in front of the bluegrass band with the stroller and watching the neighborhood toddlers dance in front, in the strong strong 10am sun. And the rooftop Starbucks terrace on early mornings or late afternoons, looking over the Dumbarton house and park – where the United Nations was born as I have liked to tell quite a few people with whom I’ve sat on that corner table.  It occurred to me, and was really sad to think, that we might some time go back and find that Starbucks closed. It was like family in the last 6 months – stopping by with the baby, or leaving baby and Grandma every morning for their early outing with a double espresso, and a tall coffee for me to take on the Circulator to work. Every salesperson knew us there.

I can’t descibe all places frequently visited in that area. Or WordPress might throw me out for advertizing restaurants, shops, hair and nails salons and yoga studios. I might as well write a travel guide or moving-in guide for Georgetown, Burleith and Glover Park. DC always seemed like a transitional place, not a home, never dreamed of owning a house and settling there, nor in VA or MD. But it must be something about the time in life, both hardest and happiest, that I appreciate the energy of those DC spots and streets so much.  

Will I have the same feeling  about any place I leave in the future? Now I doubt it – it will be different. It’s taking me a while to reconcile on the one hand my love/hate relationship with our DC life and mainly with our old apartment (leaking, mice-filled, crooked floors and doors, hanging old wires!) , and on the other hand my absolutely and only love feelings for Chisinau and my life here – with the fact that I am still heavily missing DC…

I would call myself a creature of habit. And that explains why I still walk to work holding a coffee mug from home 25 minutes every morning (when I don’t get a ride) even when my fingers and coffee will be totally frozen by the time I reach the office.

It is incredibly cold in Chisinau today, probably the coldest feeling I remember ever in my life… or at least after my Moscow winter. It is so cold that I couldn’t even breathe walking outside for fear that my throat will frost. And it is only -4 C (25F). At -10-15 I might as well not show my nose outside or resign to drinking iced coffee until spring-time…

 

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The Day After Christmas

Christmas as it should be. With snow; with lights; with Christmas tree; with menu lists and shopping lists flying around the living room table; with gradually disappearing desire to do any work or sit in an office.  

And then the day after. The snow has melted, some of the tree lights are flickering, about to go out as if no longer needed; pots of salads and leftovers covered in aluminum foil ignored by everyone; and me – back in an office chair.

The day after Christmas is probably the best time to ”dust off our ‘glasses’” or whatever else is fogging our vision, and see what is it that we are really looking forward to? The Holiday cheer, the gifts, the food, (falalala Lifetime), or some personal change, some change in every-day life  that won’t go away on December 26th.

For me it is also a time to remove some dust from my blog, check the blog stats and wonder sincerely why I still had any viewers on December 23 when I had not posted anything for two months. And tell myself again that blog-writing is not only reflecting on my time living abroad – which I have done for the past twelve years anyway – but also waking up any creative spirit left in me. And most importantly helping me find out – and say out – just what makes every day interesting and special.

I am not actually going to list all the things I have thought up of making life better – at home, job, vacation, spare time, exercise, health, etc. because the list is very long. Coveniently enough New Year’s is around the corner when it is perfectly fitting to make new resolutions and plans. For now it is enough to say that on the day after Christmas I am committed to looking for all these things that make life better and more fun every day…And to appreciate all days-after-holidays for making me search and rediscover them again. 

It seemed by the title of this post that I will tell a fairy tale. A Moldovan Uncle Scrooge reformed by a Christmas  miracle. Or little girl selling matches on Pushkin Street …all stories that I am sure are happening around me as well. Or something about roads and places, and of Chisinau as a city of places – some warm and cozy, some not so much. These are blog posts yet to be written.   If you keep checking this space…on an approximately three-month basis.

And if you think this was the vaguest post ever written, then just keep your fingers crossed that no snow-storms nor other circumstances stay in the way of my upcomng trips so that I can write a post bit more exciting, and concrete!

“Nasha Sila v Edinstve s Rossiyey”

“Our Strength Is in Union with Russia” So seem to think the people of Transnistria. Or at least so they are told by the giant slogan in the main square of Tiraspol, capital of the self-proclaimed Pridnestrovskaya Moldavskaya Respublika.

I was looking forward to visiting Transnistria. It is amazing how a foreigner’s interest in a place can rise tremendously knowing that he may or may not be let through the border. That sense of mystery can surely attract some tourism into Transnistria if they were to exploit it. Here we were at 11am on a sunny October Saturday, at a border that did not seem heavily guarded at all (we did not want to test its limits, obviously). A post with some Russian soldiers, a Lukoil gas station, and then the barrier with a few caravans of Transnistrian border guards – men and women in their green shuba uniforms. They were cheerfully flirting with each other as young women in stiletto boots and older women carrying purses and baskets walked or drove through the border in cars, buses and marshrutkas. They all looked like they were going shopping in Chisinau for the day or, perhaps, going to visit their aunt with some cookies for tea.

An hour later we were let across and were driving through Bendery (Tighina) – the town where most of the fighting occured in 1991, now right at the border between Transnistria and the rest of Moldova. The Russian peacekeepers seem to have a more visible presence here with their own fort and guards on at least one of the main intersections leading from the border to Tiraspol. Tanks comprise about 30 percent of monuments in Transnistria, and on a Saturday, you are likely to see a wedding party taking pictures in front of them. We saw our first at the first tank in Bender (Tighina) and were quite impressed. By the end of the day we had seen five or six brides in front of tanks so it no longer made for any commotion in the car.

This side of the Dnestr is considerably flatter. There are hardly any hills in Tiraspol. This appeared to be the only difference with any other Moldovan town. Eventually one starts to notice more differences – for example Sheriff is the only grocery store here, travel agencies will be advertized without saying where they sell tickets to (which makes you think twice what their business really is), best men at weddings can be seen wearing jeans (which  will never happen in Chisinau), and so on.

Augustine and I camped by the softball field to watch the Tiraspol /USA friendly game. The US lost and I was somehow  happy for the Transistrians, especially after some of the local kids told me they thought this was a professional American team. As usual children are the ones pioneering the ‘friendship between peoples’ and so we were soon surrounded by five or six ten and eleven year-olds. They wanted to test their knowledge of English (which was quite good), and more shyly, their knowledge of English bad words (also not bad), just to double-check that they’ve learned them correctly from the TV and their older friends. Once they saw I spoke Russian the conversation really flowed. The first thing on their mind was if people out there knew about Transnistria (Yes, we do. ); and recognized them as a country (Cannot answer that – better say nothing when you cannot say siomething good.) “We are separatists”, they said, but there was nothing belligerent in their voice. To me it sounded more like  ”we wish we weren’t, but that’s the situation”. They informed me that they study Russian, Moldavian (Romanian), and  English in school, and have all been to Chisinau. They also showed me Transnistrian rubles (along with an explanation of who General Suvorov is, on them) and gave me a 25 and 5 kopek coins as souvenirs. I gave the 25 back after I found out one can still buy a piece of chewing gum with it – would not have felt good to take anything that has some purchasing power.

A few more hours and tank monuments later, we visited the Kvint cognac factory store, crossed the Dnestr (Nistru) river and sat for beautiful lunch by the river – until 6pm, in good East European style. My overall impression was that Tiraspol is a beautiful beautiful city – more “Eastern” looking than Chisinau but still very pretty. I can see myself living there. If only I could travel back and forth more easily.

“Driving into Chisinau from Tiraspol feels like driving into New York City,” Jonathan said. It was already dark when we got back and Chisinau greeted us with glowing bilboards, Malldova, campaign posters for the election, and yes – a little more show of life than Tiraspol. However, I had never driven into Tiraspol at night …to really comment.

Linked to the world

One and a half month and still on dial-up internet. This is in the country where over 70 percent of the rural population has fast internet to be able to skype with relatives abroad. I have heard that the first big wave of remittances in Moldova went into house construction and repair; the second into securing computers and internet for relatives. And we live in a neighborhood in the capital also known as ‘Beverly Hills’ i.e. not suffering from geographic isolation or lack of connected homes.

But that’s it… a complaint will get you writing. And let it be its only purpose in this blog. Because the lack of fast internet has stopped  bothering me.I cannot skype properly,but I hardly have the time for it anyway…And where there is a will, there is a way – sometimes my relatives and friends are just willing to stay on a call where the sound travels with 10-second delay. Rarely. But some have been. It has a certain retro feel.

On the other hand, I have often been struck at the quality of world news in this part of the world. BBC World in particular. It makes me wonder why I never watched it in the US – is it even an option on Comcast? In 10 minutes of watching TV you seem to be aware of what went on with Kyrgyz elections, French strikers, and every single second of the Chilean miners rescue operation…On an average day in the U.S. if I was proactive enough to look at the front page of the NY Times, I might have learned of a major terrorist attack, terrorist plan or anti-terror campaign in explosion or  Afghanistan/Pakistan/Iraq. I understand, the country is in war ..what more important to write about? Unfortunately, the kind of war that makes people flip the page or ignore the front page of the NY Times and watch TLC What Not to Wear, or the Office instead…or Keeping with the Kardashians.

Of course, I am talking about myself… And I did not mean to get into that topic at all, world news media in the U.S. But I was thinking about world news media in general – and the population’s attention span for it – during the 2-3 days of miners rescue operation in Chile.  I personally could not go an hour during the day without having BBC World on at home or checking it live online until each of them, including rescue workers, was out. And no TLC show could be more important – I stuck to BBC World News my whole TV time these couple of days. I must not have been the only one if they chose to show this story non-stop asll, digging into every possible aspect of it – hat it means for each miner and his family, what it means for Chile, what it means for the President - just so they can continue staying on the scene. And it almost makes you thinik that if we could concentrate so much world attention on every crisis - every crisis will have such a  happy ending!

Meanwhile, Benin was submerged in a flood – literally half the country. Apparently no one heard of it when it happened as relief agencies (the UN) only got to it a couple of weeks after. And even if it were on the news, it would very likely be something you can flip through to the next channel. Because it is about thousands, not thirty-three. And because it happens somewhere the world  a few times a year. (It was ironically Stalin who said that ‘One death is a tragedy. Death of a million is mere statistics.”   The U.S. Democrats  seem to have blogged already about the relation between this saying and world news http://www.democrats.com/node/12333 ; And surely a lot of college papers were written on this.)

Again, the miners were underground for two months before all cameras were there to document the grand rescue. Is it news because of how personal it is, or because of the happy ending? 

In any case, there is more to this discussion, and I only got into it in trying to say how happy I am to have BBC News at home. And how upset I am, though decreasingly so, to not have fast internet at home.  

I am still not happy with the looks of this blog – still no pictures …maybe time to think of a new appearance theme. And I cannot get my blog title out of my face up on the heading banner. It is also a shame that in beautiful Chisinau in the Fall I am writing about TV and internet! Will correct. Until next time.

A Beginning

Now I remember why I never blogged before. I started a blog twice – meaning that I set a user name and password! Every now and again I would have a topic in my mind, an almost ready post in my head to share. And if I get far enough to sit at a computer and actually type the blog domain intending to write it down, I would lose the next 30-40 minutes trying to remember and retrieve my password, figuring out “where do I actually write in this complicated dashboard”…and if I get past that step, which has almost never happened I would fiddle about  with themes and appearances and lose what I had in my mind to begin with…

BUT, that is beyond the point. If you are a technically-challenged slow writer – why blog in the first place?

The point is – I don’t believe in big beginnings.  So as an introduction to my new blog, I just wanted to give myself here a virtual pat on my own shoulder for getting through to the ‘post’ window and starting up.

This blog does not have a defined topic – another reason why I always found it hard to start. But it seems quite certain that travel, people, food and coffee, and life in Moldova would feature prominently as well as whatever other moral, ethical or everyday topic you or I happen to raise.

Until next time…let me see how I can link pictures to this place…