Allow me to rewind.
Tonight, after a delicious dinner of vegetable soup, followed by some amazing crepes with honey and homemade jam, I sat around the table talking with my host mom and sister. They are two amazing women – working in the garden all day, preparing food three times a day, caring for the children, and my host sister (who I believe is about 35) works several days a week in the capital from 5 a.m. to midnight. Like I said, two amazing women.
But as we were sitting outside talking, they asked me when my birthday was, and I told them it was coming up very soon–two weeks from Wednesday, in fact. And it’s a big one, I’ll be 25. They were very excited by this. And then I remembered an event back in training with my first host family, and I began to share the story…
One day, while out for our regular evening stroll, my teenage host sisters from my first host family told me that their aunt and mother have a method to determine at what age a woman will get married. (For my host sisters, it’s 20 for the eldest and 24 for the younger sister.) So one Sunday morning, while sitting around the table, they were asking me if I had met any nice guys at a 4th of July party we had. When I said no, they decided they should try their method on me to determine exactly when I’ll be married. They carefully plucked a strand of hair from my head, put their mother’s wedding ring on the strand of hair, and held it over a tall glass half-full of warm water. The ring starts to swing back and forth, and they begin counting the number of times it hits the sides of the glass until it stops. For me, it stopped after 25. So, that means I’m getting married when I’m 25. And my 25th year starts this month, which means I’m getting married in Moldova.
When I relayed this story to my new host family, they were so excited…here in Moldova! And my host mom said we’ll have a BIG Moldovan wedding. I just laughed and said “we’ll see” and then I explained that my father in the States has specifically forbidden me from marrying a Moldovan because he’s afraid I’ll never come home. No problem, my host mom responds, you can just take him back to America with you! See, dad? No problem!
Regardless, I hope to have many more good talks like this one over tea with my new host family.