Na Gosti

At night in Kratovo, it is still warm enough to wear only a light jacket. The moon has not yet risen above the horizon to outshine the tiny diamond-flecks of stars strewn across the black-velvet sky. Clicks from my host mother's heels on the cobblestone paved streets are a percussion calling to the house before we arrive. "Dobra Vecher!" Nanna greets us at the door. We enter and take off our shoes and jackets. "Kako Ce?" Nanna asks me in a language that still sounds like rocks clashing upon themselves in the shore break of the ocean. "-um," I pause. The words are stuck in my head; the rows of filing cabinets that hold the language files mix the Macedonian I learned this week with the Spanish I learned in high school. "Dobro," my host mother saves me with the words. I giggle to break the tension. The two women laugh and pat me on my back in appreciation for my effort. Entering her typical Macedonian home, I notice pictures of her family in frames covering the walls. As a collective society, relationships are very important to them, and they don't pass an opportunity to show you their families. Nanna hands me a picture of her son and one of her daughter. "Sit," She tells us. I can tell that she is now trying to use as much English as she knows. Nanna serves me hot tea and cake. Despite my efforts to refuse the cake, the plate is placed into my hands followed by a fork and napkin. "Birthday. Nanna son," explains my host mother. From this I understand that this is cake leftover from her son's birthday party. We all have small plates with a slice of birthday cake on them. Nanna and my host mother chat in Macedonian as my mind wanders to the lull of the rhythm of the language in the background of my thoughts. Observing Nanna's home further, I notice lace doilies on coffee tables, couches covered with sofa covers, and throw rugs on the floor. It reminds me of my grandmother's home the way she decorated it the same since my mother was a child. Small, sentimental knickknacks line the shelves: a painted doll, an ornate box, a glass vase. The rhythm of the foreign language has stopped. Suddenly, I become aware that both Nanna and my host mother are staring at me. I am a trapped deer in headlights. "Ne sakash da yadash," Nanna frowns at me. I have upset her in some inexplicable way. "Eat cake, Kristi," my host mother explains. I fork a bite-sized portion of the moist, hand-made cake into my mouth; it is delicious, but not what I had in mind this late in the evening. Both women are still staring at me. In a culture where feeding people enormous portions and saving face by being judged how tasty each bite is, I know what they want, so I give it to them. "Dobro!" I gush with a thumbs up, then a pat to my belly. We all laugh and Nanna is pleased. Eventually, I put the cake down and pick up the tea with both hands. "Kristi tired?" my host mother asks. After a day of clashing rocks of language tumbling in my head, traveling on too little sleep, eating unknown foods in too-large quantities, my usually accommodating attitude relents when the thought of a warm bed and a soft pillow are presented. Slowly nodding my head, my host mother, who is still a mother and empathizes with a tired child in any language, says, "Okay, let's go." Kissing Nanna three times on the cheeks, we say, "Chow," and slip on our shoes and jackets. On the walk home, we find the stars in the night that are outshone by the moon who walks us home through the cobblestone streets.

Home Stay Family

After a hectic and informative training week at the hotel in Kumanovo, all 37 of the Mak 14's (Macedonian Volunteers in the 14th group)were nervous and excited to meet our host families to begin what the PC (Peace Corps) calls PST (Pre-Service Training). The smaller groups include 6 volunteers where each person stays at a host family who provide room and board. It is a way for the volunteer to transition into the language and customs of the host country. The week is very structured: language classes from 8-12 with our LCF (Language and Cultural Facilitator), lunch, training projects in the afternoon, dinner, homework, maybe free time or just good-old-fashion sleep. After a day of trying to wrap your head and mouth around the language, sleep comes easy. Overall, I feel very lucky with my PST experience of group, LCF and host family. Being placed with 5 other bright and talented PC Trainees, I feel like we are becoming a team. Also, our LCF, who has experience teaching Macedonian Literature at the University, carries with him a quick, dark wit that makes class fun with jokes and stories of the cultural barriers where some others have gotten caught in the hurdle. Moreover, having a host mother to cook amazing meals and do my laundry didn't take much adjusting to. We had a few awkward conversations over the language barrier about what I like and don't like to eat. Mostly it was just a matter of me pointing to things and giving the thumbs up or down. Yovanka has a smile that warms the morning and is always ready to make a cup of tea for me. With two host sisters, Dace (Dat-say, 16) and Eugenia (Af-ghan-ee-a, 15) who speak English, there is always someone to talk to. Sometimes we stay inside and do our homework, or got to the cafe and chat or people watch. Of course the home stay wouldn't be complete without a cat, Leo (Lay-o) who is a striped tabby and loves to cuddle up on my lap. With one week of PST training still swirling around in my head, I feel a little bit better about having a routine and working on the language with my host family and in the shops in town.

OCRegister ... Front Page News

http://headlines.ocregister.com/articles/-41557--.html OCRegister.com the morning read By RASHI KESARWANI Tiny ice crystals swim in Grey Goose vodka as Christine Moore nervously sets the classic martini on the bar. A rookie bartender who's already broken glasses and spilled drinks, Moore prays that the stern man at the bar doesn't complain and get her fired. She sucks in a breath as he takes a sip. “That's the best drink I've ever had!” For Moore, who works at Infusion, a popular restaurant in Ladera Ranch, it's a moment of triumph – if not the kind she bargained on at age 35. In 1998, when Moore finished college, she envisioned another path. She called it “The Script,” and it went something like this: Own a business, get married, have kids, buy a condo. But 11 years and several plot twists later, Moore is shelving the script. Today, she will board a plane destined for the Eastern European country of Macedonia. ACT I: Own a business Moore didn't grow up in a business-minded family. Her dad wrote computer manuals; her mom stayed home to raise the couple's nine children. Moore, the second-youngest child, loved puzzles. She sees running a business as akin to assembling a jigsaw puzzle, moving pieces until everything fits perfectly. Seven years ago, as a Cal State Long Beach grad with a flair for business and a passion for working with children, she launched Abacus Education. By the fall of 2007, Moore was set for a banner year. She was tutoring 10 students, had hired three other tutors and had secured a home-schooling client – a position that paid half her salary. But everything began to unravel on an overcast day in December. Moore was reading with her 7-year-old pupil at the child's home in San Clemente when they heard voices and footsteps in the other room. A blonde in a navy blue suit introduced herself as a real estate agent. “This is not a good sign,” Moore thought. The client's business had nose-dived. A few weeks later, the San Clemente house was sold, and the family moved away. Gone, too, was half of Moore's income. Month after month, clients dropped away. Moore doubted herself, not sure if she'd lost her business savvy or if she was simply a victim of economic forces beyond her control. Moore turned to her best friend, Debra Chavira, for advice. “I'm just really stressed out about not having clients,” she told Chavira. “Why don't you get a second job?” asked Chavira, a mortgage broker facing her own harsh business reality. Moore dismissed the idea as a sure sign of failure. “What's failing more?” Chavira replied. “Not paying your bills or getting a job?” Moore started to consider all her options. She took a bartending class, pored over MBA programs and looked into the Peace Corps. By fall, Moore found herself making cocktails at Infusion. ACT II: Marriage, kids, condo Moore, the hard-charging business owner, approached her quest for a husband as an academic pursuit, reading dating books and following to-do lists. She broke up with her boyfriend of eight years in 2005, a man she describes as sweet and kind. It just came down to timing: She was ready to get married, he wasn't. On the hunt for Mr. Right, Moore created a profile on match.com. She asked friends and family to set her up – a chore she describes as embarrassing. She joined social groups. All the while, she wondered: Why does this feel so forced? “I didn't find the joy in it,” she says. Moore did meet a lot of nice guys and had plenty of dates. But none of these men was willing to volunteer with her at Heart Outreach, serving meals and giving away hygiene bags. Eventually, Moore realized she could give herself permission not to play the dating game. Now she tells herself: “Maybe it isn't for me. And it's OK for it not to be.” ACT III: Rewrite The script When society's script – or our idea of how we're supposed to live our lives – doesn't fit, what then? Moore has decided she can't wait around. Instead, she's broadening her horizons. Last month, she ventured to Haiti, traveling from Port-au-Prince in a van to an area known as Les Cayes. Peering through the van's window, Moore saw streets lined with makeshift shops and heaps of garbage. Women in bright cotton dresses balanced bananas or laundry on their heads. Moore and 11 other volunteers were traveling to Espwa, an orphanage and school surrounded by lush trees and bushes. Moore spent a week in the school's small library, a cinderblock structure with a bookcase of about 100 titles. Her voice fills with joy and longing as she talks about Jackson, the shy 6-year-old who stayed at her side throughout her stay. They read Dr. Seuss' “One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish” and Moore's favorite, “Hop on Pop” together, as the other boys in the school crowded around them. Moore says that visiting the orphanage – and the connections she made with the children – confirmed that she wants to adopt a child in the future, when she's ready to settle down. But that will have to wait at least two years. After a yearlong application process that she started before she began bartending, Moore was accepted by the Peace Corps as a business development volunteer in Macedonia. There, she will troubleshoot for business owners, tasks that will include performing market research for established businesses and securing grants for new enterprises. She hopes to help businesswomen gain a toehold in the economy. Moore says she felt she had two choices: Get married or join the Peace Corps. She laughs when she says it. It's shorthand for being comfortable with the life she's chosen, even if it doesn't follow the predictable script. After a year of making classic martinis, she's ready to write the next act. You can read about Christine Moore's adventures in Macedonia on her blog, cnaomimoorego.blogspot.com.

Packing, Purging.... Re-packing.

It seems as if the last week of my life was like a child in a sandbox making a pile of sand, then moving and making another pile, and more and more piles until she is surrounded by mounds until she has to stand up, brush herself off, and carefully navigate her way to the edge, tip-toeing between the heaps. Except with me it is not sand, it is the treasures, clothes, pictures, cards, books, and random nick-knacks that I have collected over the last 35 years. I question what I should keep, what goes to Goodwill, what I should store in the closet of my parents extra bedroom that they won't look in until I get back in 27 months, and what I should take with me. A favorite pair of pumps, a bracelet which carries sentimental value and those curve-hugging jeans are all great to have here in Southern Cal, but will they be useful in Macedonia where the temperatures get below freezing in the winters and as hot as hell in the summer? A big part of it is when the realization that I am actually leaving hits like a pit in the middle of my stomach, then my head gets light like a drop on a roller coaster and I just lay there in the middle of my piles contemplating my life in the past, present and future. For me, I see life as a series of choices. To get to this point I have made some pretty great choices, and I am confident that in the future I will undoubtedly follow that same pattern. So, the top that I couldn't live without a month ago sits at the bottom of the plastic garbage bag being crushed by the pants, the shoes and the bracelet that I gasped for when I saw them in the store window. And, there is a bag in the closet with other things that I hope to sit down with in the future, unpack, make piles and reminisce about my life in the past.

And the verdict is....

"Congratulations! It is with great pleasure that we invite you to begin training in Macedonia for Peace Corps service." Country: Macedonia Job Title: Business Development Date of Service: September 15, 2009 to November 26, 2011

Stiiiiiilllll waiting....

As of now, 9 July 2009, I am still awaiting word from the Peace Corps with official information regarding my nomination and my impending departure to Eastern Europe to do Business Development sometime in September. Without a doubt, I am very anxious! There are quite a few reasons for my anxiety. Sparing you an endless list of neurotic babblings, I will detail just a few. First, September is less than tree months away--a very short time-- and I still do not know for certain if I am even, in fact, leaving. Being nominated only tells me that I am still being considered as a volunteer. Nomination is not a guarantee that I will be an actual volunteer. For the past year, I have been preparing to be a part of something so big that it takes this long to actually get in. In this time, we have changed presidents, presidential cabinets, two babies have been born in my family, one wedding, one departure from the country, and a kitten passed. Life is moving in a linear direction as it cycles through seasons of change. Second, in this upcoming very short three months, I will have to give up all of my earthly possessions, besides a babushka and a parka, and prepare to exit the country for more than two years. A short list of items I need to consider doing away with are: bed, computer, computer desk, clothes, books, golf clubs, a very nice and expensive bicycle, misc. sports equipment, my car (early termination of the lease), canceling my cell phone policy, stopping Netflix, etc. These things may seem inconsequential to the naked eye, but many of them have become a part of my every day routine; being without them means facing the reality that my routine--my whole life--will be very different without them. Next, saying goodbye to friends, family, acquaintances, and distant-acquaintances. It is a given that I will make some kind of grandiose statement filled with tears and hugs to my friends and family upon my departure. However, it is the acquaintances and the distant-acquaintances that make for an awkward departing gesture. I suppose I could say things like, "Hey, I won't be buying gum from here anymore," as I throw down exact change, or "Thanks for always knowing how I like my salad before I get a chance to order it, Candace," while I read her name badge. You know, those people who always have a smile for you because they remember that you come in after work, but they're not sure where you really work or what you really do. It's those distant-acquaintance people, when I think about not saying a statement of goodbye, I question if they will passively miss me and wonder, "Whatever happened to that girl who used to come in here on Tuesday afternoons and always have exact change, but could never remember my darn name." Last, if where I'm going is cold, I really need to prepare for an icy tundra of isolationism in my room as I stare out the window at the frosty whiteness that has accumulated in my window pane. If this unknown place's temperature drops below forty degrees Fahrenheit, I will not be taking my Southern-California-warm-weather-lovin'-beach-blanket-bingo-can't-get-warm-in-a-sauna ass outside much! While I'm here for the next three months, I will be soaking up every ray of sunlight humanly possible before I step on that plane. Furthermore, when I'm not in the sun, I will be studying about ways to keep myself warm in a cold climate. I'll look like the kid from "A Christmas Story" who is bundled up so much that only his eyes are showing and he can't put his arms down. It will take all three months just to mentally prepare for the bitter, numbing, bone-chilling weather. Sadly, this is all I can offer as an update for now. I'll be sure to post more as I know more. Perhaps, I can just post more about my anxiety and we can commiserate a forthcoming departure together.

Peace Corps Mission

In 1961, President John F. Kennedy established the Peace Corps to promote world peace and friendship.

The Peace Corps' mission has three simple goals:

1. Helping the people of interested countries in meeting their need for trained men and women.
2. Helping promote a better understanding of Americans on the part of the peoples served.
3. Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans.

Peace Corps Game

Click on the link to play a Peace Corps game. It's geared toward kids, but the concepts are fun and interesting for adults. Play with the whole family to foster discussion and decision making skills. http://www.peacecorps.gov/game/ Peace xoxo

Peace Corps Update ***NOMINATION***

Hello All, Many of you have asked, "Hey! What's up with that Peace Corps thing?" Well, sit back and your queries will be answered. 1) The Peace Corps "thing" is going quite well. 2) I am STILL planning on going (Yes, Jeff, I am STILL planning on going). 3) I had to retake a test for my liver toxicity levels (I took the last one days after my birthday. Needless to say, toxicity was quite high over that weekend). But now, I'm in the clear and toxicity levels are in the acceptable range. I am all clear and I AM OFFICIALLY A NOMINEE!!! 4) My recruiter, the famous Ms. Lindsay, tells me that I should receive a formal invitation in June 09, provided everything goes well. So there's the business... Take care (of others), be good (to yourself), and keep peace (in your heart) :)