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.

Thursday was swearing in, thus I am now officially a Peace Corp volunteer. The most interesting part of the entire event was the reception. Because the reception, was an interesting look into Moldovan buffet dining. Apparently here they do not form a Q and move down the line selecting items from trays which they care to dine on. The chosen method here is to position oneselves in front of one area of the spread and dine on everything within arms reach. Once in position there is not moving from that spot before satiation.
To move into a Moldovan’s selected area of table is similar to a dog moving into territory which has been urinated on and thus marked by another dog. In other words, the consequences are dire. I watched as one volunteer attempted to sandwich between two sizeable Moldovan women who had marked their territory on the buffet, the result was that they used their size against him and removed him from the table region. However, during this rebuffing he did manage to spill an entire glass of red wine on the sizable rear end of one woman. Despite the large, obvious stain on her rump she was unphased and continued to consume, at an astonishing rate of speed, all that was before her.
During the reception I was witness to the descent of approximatively 100 Moldovans and 50 Peace Corp volunteers, all with the sensibilities of locusts, on a buffet that consisted of 15 tables crammed with food, 50 bottles of wine, and 50 bottles of water. The area was cleared of all potable liquids and all consumable foods within a time frame of 20 minutes. God himself couldn’t have summoned a scourge as fearsome as this pack.

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.

I now been witness to the killing of dinner. It is a unique sensation to see an animal go from living to consumed in a matter of hours.

This week my host family killed a chicken. I admit that I found it quite exciting when they proposed I spectate this event. They took a robust hen from the barn, nuzzled it a bit and said a few comforting words, then proceeded with the slaughter. One person held the body while another held the head. Then they placed a slightly dull bread knife against the back of the chicken's head and began to saw. It only took about thirty seconds of strenuous effort to get the knife through the chicken's spinal column, once severed, the head of the chicken came off quite easily. Then the person with the responsibility of holding the body pointed the neck stub away from all people in order to avoid spraying anyone with blood. The carcass was then placed into a bucket until the conniptions discontinued.

After the chicken carcass with through flopping about, they proceeded to defeather it. Which was an astonishingly efficient process. They placed it in a wash basin and poured hot water over it, then began plucking. The feathers were removed in approximately one minute and within two hours it was made into soup and on the table for dinner.

It was a strange sensation eating a chicken that I had been acquainted with, I wouldn't say that we were friends but we had crossed paths on several occassions thus I felt bit of remorse for consuming it in the form of chicken noodle soup.

Next time a chicken is sacrificed for our sustenence I will be allowed the honor of killing it, although I think I will sharpen the knife first.