The following are strictly personal views/observations and in no way reflect the views of the Peace Corp nor the federal government of the United States.

Whoever introduced the futon to Moldova must be a millionaire; because, futons caught here like wildfire. Every house I have been in thus far in Moldova has at least one futon; usually the number of futons depends on the size of the house. In an apartment there is the requisite one futon, in a small house there are at least two, in a medium house three, and a large house the number of futons can range from four to six.

Outside of hotels, I have slept on nothing but futons since arriving in Moldova. It kind of scared me upon first arrival in Moldova; because I was shown my room and I saw nothing but a couch and a wardrobe.

The thoughts of sleeping on a couch for three months and the imminent joint and back pain which would result sent a tremor through my whole body. The whole day I contemplated if I should cash in my chips and go home because I was sure that couch sleeping for three months would vanquish me. I don’t like to sleep on a couch for one night if I have a choice.
Fortunately, I staved off panic and that night I was relieved to see them whip that couch out into a bed. With a sigh of relief I realized, ah a futon. Little did I know the prevalence of the futon in Moldova.

I can’t figure out the tremendous attraction to the futon. I think futons are okay, but, I personally associate the futon with apartments chock-full of fraternity boys.
I have found that the futon provides a decent night sleep, not like the glorious slumber of a spring mattress, but it is better than a couch.

The following are strictly personal views/observations and in no way reflect the views of the Peace Corp nor the federal government of the United States.

Have you ever experience shopping in a Soviet style department store? Well, it is not a shopping experience for those who are faint of heart and lacking in intestinal fortitude. UNIC, the soviet style department store in Chisinau, is a test of one’s determination to purchase. It is four stories and has most anything one might want to buy, however, the twist is finding what you need and finding your way out of the store again.

Here is the enigma: You can only enter and exit the building from two doors on the first floor. To go to the three floors above there are escalators which can carry a person up to the next story, however the escalators only go up. There are escalators down; however, they are never operating. Is it possible to leave the store or is UNIC following the same proprietary methods as the Hotel California, you can check out but you can never leave.

The system of arrangement (that I have discerned) is: First Floor – food, small appliances, cell phones, and lay away (but with an Eastern European twist). Second Floor – electronics, office supplies, plastics, books, incense, towels, sheets, and toys. Third Floor – women’s clothes, shoes, fabric, and sewing accoutrements. Fourth Floor – men’s clothes and mattresses.

To find the escalators to go up is easy because of the loud noise they make when operating, it is the sound of grinding metal intermingled with a Stalinesque clanging noise which can be heard over the whole of the store. Thus, if one desires to go up to the next floor one must simple tilt their head to the side and follow the sounds of clanging steps making the arduous journey into the upper reaches of the building. However, once one has located the escalator there is the conundrum of how much you really desire to go to the next story of the building. Because from the appearance of the escalator it seems that to move to the next floor is risking possible bodily injury, I don’t think it would be an overstatement to say that the UNIC escalators are the sketchiest that I have ever been privy to.

The aspect of UNIC that is most different from department stores of American origin, are the customer service techniques they employ. Apparently the Russian idea of customer service is to give any potential customer the stink eye, and then when the customer asks something or wants to make a purchase is to sigh heavily thereby releasing a wave of halitosis in a last desperate attempt to drive the patron away. Although, these methods do not work on me because I am and will continue to be an avid shopper of UNIC.

Each section of the store is run separately, thus, it is more like a mall than a department store. At each booth one can meet women who look as if they recite the Communist Manifesto every night before bed and eat with a picture of Lenin over the dining room table. At most of the booths everything is behind the counter, so it is required that one overcomes their fear of the vendors and requests the items which they want to examine or purchase. It seems quite foreign to me not to be able to hand select the box of paper clips I would like to purchase but to leave such a decision up to the soviet woman behind the counter.

Despite the drawbacks of the UNIC soviet style department store, I do like shopping there because they do have almost everything one might need there. It is almost like Wal-Mart, aside from the booth arrangement, the terrifying escalators, the intimidating salespeople, and the lack of harsh fluorescent lighting. Every time, I have chosen to shop at UNIC I have successfully solved the riddle and found a way out of the store; although, never without a panic attack and a wicked case of sweaty palms.