<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323</id><updated>2012-01-09T17:16:19.849-08:00</updated><category term='Touching aquatic incarnations of god Cali'/><title type='text'>A Daily Cup of Chisinau Ceai</title><subtitle type='html'>Moldova, India, USA, Aruba, etc.
Cultural comments and goings on by a scholar traveling, researching and teaching around the world.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>29</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-5151288139369448528</id><published>2009-03-24T06:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T06:39:43.121-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Touching aquatic incarnations of god Cali'/><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjhwfLVsjI/AAAAAAAAB3E/rYodiOHuyFs/s1600-h/DSC00204.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjhwfLVsjI/AAAAAAAAB3E/rYodiOHuyFs/s400/DSC00204.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316747583229899314" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We stopped at a famous Hindu temple to the god Cali. Here the men go down to the water of this ceremonial lake and try to touch a fish or a giant turtle, that are incarnations of the spirit of Cali. It was amazing to see. People would drive up on bikes or walk, buy some thing to feed the fish (or themselves) then wade into the water and touch these giant carp in the lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjhvlqTRUI/AAAAAAAAB28/FvyhXfko618/s1600-h/DSC00206.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjhvlqTRUI/AAAAAAAAB28/FvyhXfko618/s400/DSC00206.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316747567790507330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-5151288139369448528?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/5151288139369448528/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=5151288139369448528' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/5151288139369448528'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/5151288139369448528'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/we-stopped-at-famous-hindu-temple-to.html' title=''/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjhwfLVsjI/AAAAAAAAB3E/rYodiOHuyFs/s72-c/DSC00204.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-1973683361659779049</id><published>2009-03-24T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-24T06:28:19.716-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Great day at a southern Tripura mission</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZnW47nI/AAAAAAAAB2c/340DWGFImQU/s1600-h/DSC00193.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZnW47nI/AAAAAAAAB2c/340DWGFImQU/s200/DSC00193.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316742792242327154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZhDhRxI/AAAAAAAAB2U/T2oljoDU8vw/s1600-h/DSC00183.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZhDhRxI/AAAAAAAAB2U/T2oljoDU8vw/s200/DSC00183.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316742790550472466" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We drove a couple of hours south for another wonderful day among children at a mission hostel&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdYwih6GI/AAAAAAAAB2E/4XS3488fFaE/s1600-h/DSC00170.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdYwih6GI/AAAAAAAAB2E/4XS3488fFaE/s200/DSC00170.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316742777527199842" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; and school deep in a tribal village of southern Tripura. We were welcomed with a song, and then each of us was asked to give a message to the school children. That went over pretty well, although I am not sure how much they understood us. We tried anyway. Then we visited the sisters who were watching over the younger kids. The pictures are of the 3-4 year old bosy who were absolutely great . I also took a picture of the kitchen, an old wood stove&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZYQActI/AAAAAAAAB2M/kKPOBY1sSmQ/s1600-h/DSC00171.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZYQActI/AAAAAAAAB2M/kKPOBY1sSmQ/s200/DSC00171.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316742788186927826" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; with two big pots. One pot was full of cooking rice, and the other full of a delicious smelling masala -- lunch was just about ready. Out back was a big pond where the fish are "grown" and the kids catch them as needed for food. Overall, the sisters were a joy, the children&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZokP_EI/AAAAAAAAB2k/KOImTYbHS8g/s1600-h/DSC00192.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZokP_EI/AAAAAAAAB2k/KOImTYbHS8g/s200/DSC00192.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316742792566799426" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; so cute I wanted to take them all home, and life was kind of tough but full of love and community.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-1973683361659779049?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/1973683361659779049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=1973683361659779049' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/1973683361659779049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/1973683361659779049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/another-wonderful-day-among-children-at.html' title='Great day at a southern Tripura mission'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScjdZnW47nI/AAAAAAAAB2c/340DWGFImQU/s72-c/DSC00193.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-3161928688352819373</id><published>2009-03-23T10:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-23T11:10:56.403-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Visit to Moharpara</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfPhAqSr8I/AAAAAAAAB10/2qRy-R7TdnU/s1600-h/DSCN0447.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfPhAqSr8I/AAAAAAAAB10/2qRy-R7TdnU/s200/DSCN0447.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316446051154177986" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfOD3eDo9I/AAAAAAAAB1s/3q466Iv0KlU/s1600-h/DSC00114.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfOD3eDo9I/AAAAAAAAB1s/3q466Iv0KlU/s200/DSC00114.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316444450959107026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday we drove north on the only road, winding through assorted roadside villages along the way. Conditions don't allow for speed, about 25mph maximum as we navigated the jeep among bicycles, cars, cows and other creatures and machines. This is considered the highway, and it is also the only way.  Bamboo and teak forests surrounded us as we passed occasional brick manufacturing facilities. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfOCwhmuTI/AAAAAAAAB1U/SsoVGYpME3E/s1600-h/DSCN0506.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfOCwhmuTI/AAAAAAAAB1U/SsoVGYpME3E/s200/DSCN0506.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316444431915071794" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Brick and rubber are the major industries around here, and both are intensely low tech operations. We passed a few security check points on the road as well -- it turns out that no one is allowed on certain stretches of the road after 6pm due to occasional militant attacks. We were welcomed at the mission school in the tribal village with a great ceremony by the kids. They performed traditional and modern-jazzed traditional dances for us. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfODMB__GI/AAAAAAAAB1c/E7JblA_I4oc/s1600-h/DSC00125.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfODMB__GI/AAAAAAAAB1c/E7JblA_I4oc/s200/DSC00125.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316444439298702434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Then they asked one of the honored visitors to make a greeting speech. John and Sandy (my traveling colleagues) chickened out so I had to do it. I made tree quick points: First I explained the meaning and importance of "yes we can." (Obama is already a hero around here). Secondly I spoke briefly on the importance of education, and lastly I told them to be nice to each other. It went over very well.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfPhSEBzyI/AAAAAAAAB18/f1j-6bWRNt0/s1600-h/DSCN0439.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfPhSEBzyI/AAAAAAAAB18/f1j-6bWRNt0/s200/DSCN0439.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316446055825526562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The absolute best moment of the day for me was during our visit to the girls mission hostel, the sisters had the tribal children gather about -- they were quite shy and looked kind of sad -- one by one they started coming over the shake my hand and cautiously say hello, and as I realized that this would take a while and would not really be adequate for how I was feeling, I just broke out and offered a huge group hug. &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;That was great&lt;/span&gt;, they absolutely loved it, and so did I. The smiles after that were huge, enthusiastic and joyful, and they did not want us to leave.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfODs-TxvI/AAAAAAAAB1k/x5eUg7PinQY/s1600-h/DSCN0511.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfODs-TxvI/AAAAAAAAB1k/x5eUg7PinQY/s200/DSCN0511.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5316444448141592306" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-3161928688352819373?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/3161928688352819373/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=3161928688352819373' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3161928688352819373'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3161928688352819373'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/visit-to-moharpara.html' title='Visit to Moharpara'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScfPhAqSr8I/AAAAAAAAB10/2qRy-R7TdnU/s72-c/DSCN0447.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-5086934851991712563</id><published>2009-03-21T09:12:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T09:29:48.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>First days are quite formal</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVelChGYI/AAAAAAAAB1M/PI2pNgRcbQ8/s1600-h/100_4438.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVelChGYI/AAAAAAAAB1M/PI2pNgRcbQ8/s200/100_4438.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315678550263667074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVeW3VtqI/AAAAAAAAB1E/2YZRPnLK5V4/s1600-h/100_4650.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVeW3VtqI/AAAAAAAAB1E/2YZRPnLK5V4/s200/100_4650.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315678546458687138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVeBJiUsI/AAAAAAAAB08/3VZGfwR4vA4/s1600-h/100_4613.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVeBJiUsI/AAAAAAAAB08/3VZGfwR4vA4/s200/100_4613.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315678540629430978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVd8MR6GI/AAAAAAAAB00/wrJqRgH237w/s1600-h/100_4559.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVd8MR6GI/AAAAAAAAB00/wrJqRgH237w/s200/100_4559.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315678539298760802" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVdoDXHvI/AAAAAAAAB0s/50C56uhGW6I/s1600-h/100_4493.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVdoDXHvI/AAAAAAAAB0s/50C56uhGW6I/s200/100_4493.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315678533892644594" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUTF-CZeJI/AAAAAAAAB0k/TNZREgdPqew/s1600-h/100_4444.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUTF-CZeJI/AAAAAAAAB0k/TNZREgdPqew/s200/100_4444.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315675928454068370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUSe3fhZ0I/AAAAAAAAB0c/UOL1nk_Ny1c/s1600-h/100_4467.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 150px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUSe3fhZ0I/AAAAAAAAB0c/UOL1nk_Ny1c/s200/100_4467.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315675256682276674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These first few days I am meeting many people in an official capacity. Starting tomorrow we will be taken to the tribal villages out in the hills and jungles. Here are some basic photos of our welcome at the Holy Cross School and from around the city. Notice that the school has borrowed President Obama's slogan. These children are so beautiful, sincere, respectful and not at all shy. As I walk around town or the school, they come up to me, and say &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good morning Father!&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;good morning Uncle!&lt;/span&gt; Then they giggle and run away. We have been fed very well so far. Nothing fancy, mostly a lot of food that is grown right on the campus. The staff likes to watch as we eat spicy stuff and see if we can swallow it without turning bright red. If something is particularly hot and spicy, they will warn us that it is "a bit pungent." We ate dinner with the sisters tonight. It was special because they came in from remote tribal villages from all over the state. At dinner, they kept refilling my plate with fish so spicy that I had to keep blowing my nose.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-5086934851991712563?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/5086934851991712563/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=5086934851991712563' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/5086934851991712563'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/5086934851991712563'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/first-days-are-quite-formal.html' title='First days are quite formal'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUVelChGYI/AAAAAAAAB1M/PI2pNgRcbQ8/s72-c/100_4438.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-6368443021892552401</id><published>2009-03-21T09:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-21T09:11:52.006-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Some pictures from Agartala</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScURJIBRW0I/AAAAAAAAB0U/ZlLIX2uSjw0/s1600-h/100_4443.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScURJIBRW0I/AAAAAAAAB0U/ZlLIX2uSjw0/s320/100_4443.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315673783650048834" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This was a very impressive young woman. She had trained in a form of tribal dance for one full year, and she is only 5 years old.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-6368443021892552401?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/6368443021892552401/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=6368443021892552401' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6368443021892552401'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6368443021892552401'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/some-pictures-from-agartala.html' title='Some pictures from Agartala'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScURJIBRW0I/AAAAAAAAB0U/ZlLIX2uSjw0/s72-c/100_4443.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-6503877056247182451</id><published>2009-03-20T04:51:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-20T05:03:49.857-07:00</updated><title type='text'>A Tribal Dance Welcome</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScOD-yCbC3I/AAAAAAAABzs/tgL9Gxf8q_k/s1600-h/DSCN0399.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScOD-yCbC3I/AAAAAAAABzs/tgL9Gxf8q_k/s320/DSCN0399.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5315237099834379122" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This was a wonderful dance by a 5 year old as we were welcomed by about 1,600 young students.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-6503877056247182451?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/6503877056247182451/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=6503877056247182451' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6503877056247182451'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6503877056247182451'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/tribal-dance-wecome.html' title='A Tribal Dance Welcome'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScOD-yCbC3I/AAAAAAAABzs/tgL9Gxf8q_k/s72-c/DSCN0399.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-8901921695274380647</id><published>2009-03-19T22:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-19T22:29:59.370-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Live from Agartala, Tripura in NE India</title><content type='html'>After traveling two full days to get here on more flights than I care to mention, I arrived at Holy Cross High School in the city of Agartala. At assembly this morning the principal introduced me and my colleagues. I stepped up to the microphone and said "Good morning children" and 1,600 3-8 year old children replied in unison: "Good Morning Father!" What a beautiful moment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-8901921695274380647?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/8901921695274380647/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=8901921695274380647' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8901921695274380647'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8901921695274380647'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2009/03/live-from-agartala-tripura-in-ne-india.html' title='Live from Agartala, Tripura in NE India'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-8408696036500465499</id><published>2008-04-09T08:35:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-09T08:41:52.427-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Sabatical Part II, Working/lecturing in Aruba</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R_zjt6hiqfI/AAAAAAAAA2s/cMMrHyyAqTU/s1600-h/Meckler%27s+office+view+in+Aruba+4-5-2008+10-06-05+PM.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187271248767527410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R_zjt6hiqfI/AAAAAAAAA2s/cMMrHyyAqTU/s320/Meckler%27s+office+view+in+Aruba+4-5-2008+10-06-05+PM.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R_zjbahiqeI/AAAAAAAAA2k/ei0QyoXoXvs/s1600-h/Meckler+hard+at+work+in+Aruba+4-5-2008+10-05-49+PM.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5187270930939947490" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R_zjbahiqeI/AAAAAAAAA2k/ei0QyoXoXvs/s320/Meckler+hard+at+work+in+Aruba+4-5-2008+10-05-49+PM.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I'm preparing for a three lecture seminar in Aruba for the University of Aruba. The highlight, if it works out, will be an open lecture in the evening on National Strategy. Exciting. I've been going through financial reports from the central bank, talking to everyone from taxi drivers to construction managers to government officials to get a feel for major issues on the people's minds. Buy let me tell you, my office had to be the only place with free internet access, and it's on the beach. Sorry, but I've got to work. Pictures are of me at my "beach office" at Moomba Beach Cafe.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-8408696036500465499?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/8408696036500465499/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=8408696036500465499' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8408696036500465499'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8408696036500465499'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2008/04/sabatical-part-ii-workinglecturing-in.html' title='Sabatical Part II, Working/lecturing in Aruba'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R_zjt6hiqfI/AAAAAAAAA2s/cMMrHyyAqTU/s72-c/Meckler%27s+office+view+in+Aruba+4-5-2008+10-06-05+PM.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-4519726047846927915</id><published>2007-12-23T11:07:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:20:48.605-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Journey to the Netherlands</title><content type='html'>&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OGhzfrC2I/AAAAAAAAA2E/ZOJ2FIkAoG8/s1600-h/IMG_0003.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We have left Moldova for a journy to visit our family in the Nimegen, Netherlands for the holidays. Chrisna's sister, Belia and her husband Bart have just had their second child, her name is Lieve, 3 weeks ago today. So we are going to help out with whatever needs doing and give them some family cheer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;We left Moldova and arrived at the airport in Milan. A very cool and modern airport where we walked all over the place trying to find our connection on EZ Jet to Amsterdam. They should have named it NotSO EZJet. What a bunch of chaos. We left the nice modern terminal #1 via the tunnel below, and waited on the street for a bus to the outcast budget terminal #2 where we clawed our way throught the EZJet crowds.&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261DzfrCxI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/yQyIM2G22Us/s1600-h/CIMG4948.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147250501098343186" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261DzfrCxI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/yQyIM2G22Us/s320/CIMG4948.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261EDfrCyI/AAAAAAAAA1g/WVW7H6qR218/s1600-h/CIMG4949.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147250505393310498" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261EDfrCyI/AAAAAAAAA1g/WVW7H6qR218/s320/CIMG4949.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261EjfrCzI/AAAAAAAAA1o/kf-rNzNpLrY/s1600-h/IMG_0008.JPG"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Well, by midnight, a plane and two trains later, we finally made it. It was great to arrive to see the smiling faces of family. Below is Belia and Chrisna and Lieve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261EzfrC0I/AAAAAAAAA1w/WTvXP3irm40/s1600-h/IMG_0005.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5147250518278212418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261EzfrC0I/AAAAAAAAA1w/WTvXP3irm40/s320/IMG_0005.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; On Sunday, Bart took me to see NEC (the Nimegen pro soccer club) play Feyenoord, a very good team from Rotterdam. It was cold at the stadium, but we had great seats just 6 rows up from the field, thank to Bart's company who does the graphic design and advertising stuff for NEC. Bart actually designed the team logo. The game started with lots of home for an upset, but unfortunately, we lost 0-2. &lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148607448770874226" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OHMjfrC3I/AAAAAAAAA2M/GfwvRpMgMvU/s320/IMG_0031.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148607461655776130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OHNTfrC4I/AAAAAAAAA2U/GGJkHkWghR4/s320/IMG_0036.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-4519726047846927915?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/4519726047846927915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=4519726047846927915' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4519726047846927915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4519726047846927915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/12/journey-to-netherlands.html' title='Journey to the Netherlands'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R261DzfrCxI/AAAAAAAAA1Y/yQyIM2G22Us/s72-c/CIMG4948.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-9133733608443273086</id><published>2007-12-20T11:09:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T15:02:30.557-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A Visit to Kiev, Ukraine</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rxwTfrCvI/AAAAAAAAA1I/3N288QsbZlE/s1600-h/DSCN8536.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rxwTfrCvI/AAAAAAAAA1I/3N288QsbZlE/s400/DSCN8536.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146191336393345778" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;David, Liliana, Chrisna and I took off for a long weekend in Kiev at the beginning of December.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I was hoping to meet with a colleague who develops centers for entrepreneurship in Ukraine, and see if there was a possibility for some similar efforts in Moldova.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rQtTfrCtI/AAAAAAAAA04/_pbir3eiPeE/s1600-h/DSCN8490.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rQtTfrCtI/AAAAAAAAA04/_pbir3eiPeE/s200/DSCN8490.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146155000970021586" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiev was COLD.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiev was GREY.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kiev was EXPENSIVE.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We stayed at the flat of a friend of Liliana's. We learned that folks with basic jobs cannot afford to live anywhere near the city center. We were 15 minutes walking to a subway station, and then a 30 minute ride into the city from there.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rxwjfrCwI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/cxQ7RlDNMFs/s1600-h/DSCN8531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rxwjfrCwI/AAAAAAAAA1Q/cxQ7RlDNMFs/s400/DSCN8531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146191340688313090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rKRTfrCsI/AAAAAAAAA0w/DMy5juQxs24/s1600-h/DSCN8527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rKRTfrCsI/AAAAAAAAA0w/DMy5juQxs24/s200/DSCN8527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146147922863917762" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;So we walked on the ice in the cold wind, past block after block of huge gray apartment buildings near nothing but other huge gray apartment buildings, past street side vegetable vendors to the subway.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We took the trains, which were really quite ok, until we reached the center of the city. When we got out, were must have been&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2q-IDfrCkI/AAAAAAAAAzw/794ST-I6YTU/s1600-h/DSCN8511.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; clear: both; float: right; width: 206px; height: 155px;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2q-IDfrCkI/AAAAAAAAAzw/794ST-I6YTU/s160/DSCN8511.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; hundreds of feet underground. The escalator going up was the longest and steepest I'd ever seen in my life. Sure enough, we emerged on a broad hilltop, covered with cathedrals, nice buildings and fancy shops. We saw the surrounding city from high up in a cathedral clock tower.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For the most part, we were not that impressed. In the summer or spring, this would likely be a much nicer place. But the winter under-emphasizes the trees and rivers, and over-emphasizes the course blocky architecture and lack of attention to exterior aesthetics. It was my second visit, and Kiev is remains in my mind an expensive, ugly, unkempt city with beautiful people walking about when the weather is nice.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rY_zfrCuI/AAAAAAAAA1A/7E0SQeR9S90/s1600-h/CIMG4733.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rY_zfrCuI/AAAAAAAAA1A/7E0SQeR9S90/s400/CIMG4733.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146164114890623714" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We ate street food. The picture at the top shows Chrisna and I at our absolute happiest moment of the trip. We found a Turkish Kebob stand just outside of an expensive food market, and boy was that good!&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBaDfrCoI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/8ebWaWLyEZ0/s1600-h/CIMG4747.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBaDfrCoI/AAAAAAAAA0Q/8ebWaWLyEZ0/s200/CIMG4747.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146138177583123074" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Getting a Haircut&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And the cultural highlight of it all for me? I got a haircut. That's me in the first picture waiting, looking at the newspaper as if I can read Ukrainian. I found the sports page immediately. Now that's &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;living &lt;/span&gt;baby! I've gotten a haircut in all kinds of places. It's one of the things I like to do when I travel. If I find a plain old barber shop, or simple salon, I'll make sure to go and get a haircut. There are lots of reasons this is a good idea, and a few reasons why it is a bad idea. The good is that hair salons and barber shops are gossip centers and a great way to get some local flavor and information. Second, hair style is highly regional cultural specific. The differences between a foreign and a local haircut can be very subtle, but completely obvious to a local. Getting a local haircut immediately helps you blend, certainly not completely, but at least enough not to stick out quite so much. Third, each haircut in a foreign place is an adventure for both oneself and for the barber or stylist. What will it look like? Who is this person? How can we communicate? Fun fun fun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this place, the poor stylist had just put curlers in her hair, and she was so embarrassed that she yelled at David for taking a picture. Then her friend ran out of the back laughing, and got another picture of he cutting the American's hair. Chrisna waited outside completely nervous about what this was going to look like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBaTfrCpI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/S5meqd2e6ls/s1600-h/CIMG4752.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBaTfrCpI/AAAAAAAAA0Y/S5meqd2e6ls/s200/CIMG4752.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146138181878090386" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBazfrCrI/AAAAAAAAA0o/KhQo0e6Ii1c/s1600-h/CIMG4756.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rBazfrCrI/AAAAAAAAA0o/KhQo0e6Ii1c/s200/CIMG4756.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146138190468025010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: right;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2q-HjfrCjI/AAAAAAAAAzo/nUJqpEyzlUE/s1600-h/DSCN8490.JPG"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-9133733608443273086?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/9133733608443273086/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=9133733608443273086' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/9133733608443273086'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/9133733608443273086'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/12/visit-to-kiev-ukraine.html' title='A Visit to Kiev, Ukraine'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2rxwTfrCvI/AAAAAAAAA1I/3N288QsbZlE/s72-c/DSCN8536.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-3409159902156119158</id><published>2007-12-20T08:25:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-27T03:23:20.527-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Snow in Chisinau</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OLEjfrC5I/AAAAAAAAA2c/8aPhMmA28Vo/s1600-h/CIMG4904.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5148611709378431890" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OLEjfrC5I/AAAAAAAAA2c/8aPhMmA28Vo/s400/CIMG4904.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Well we have had our first major snow in the city. It is really quite nice. Out at the Academy of Public Administration, on Str. Ialovini on a hill at the edge of Chisinau it's been snow covered for over a week. However, here in centru all we had before this was a couple of snow flurry events that produced no accumulation. The night it began snowing in earnest, we met the other Fulbrighters at Symposium restaurant for a knowledge sharing session and also a farewell to Valery Mock, who was leaving at the end of the week. After dinner and discussion about conference papers and so forth with the group, Chrisna and I went for a long walk in the middle of the snowy night. It's got to be one of the great urban pleasures -- walking alone down the middle of the street late at night -- and when it's all covered with fresh powdery snow it's an even greater pleasure. It's cold, no doubt about it, but no more cold the Washington D.C. or New York or Cincinnati in winter. Below is a slide show of snowy Chisinau.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" src="http://picasaweb.google.com/s/c/bin/slideshow.swf" width="400" height="267" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" flashvars="host=picasaweb.google.com&amp;amp;RGB=0x000000&amp;amp;feed=http%3A%2F%2Fpicasaweb.google.com%2Fdata%2Ffeed%2Fapi%2Fuser%2Fmeckler99%2Falbumid%2F5146091371029530849%3Fkind%3Dphoto%26alt%3Drss"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-3409159902156119158?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/3409159902156119158/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=3409159902156119158' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3409159902156119158'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3409159902156119158'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/12/snow-in-chisinau_20.html' title='Snow in Chisinau'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R3OLEjfrC5I/AAAAAAAAA2c/8aPhMmA28Vo/s72-c/CIMG4904.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-6722955963192997723</id><published>2007-12-15T05:46:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T13:05:57.675-08:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt;Tour and Wine Tasting at Milistii Mici Winery Caves and Tunnels, Ialovini,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 0);font-family:verdana;" &gt; Moldova.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Q_RTfrCMI/AAAAAAAAAv8/iOPUatnLl7g/s1600-h/CIMG4801.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Q_RTfrCMI/AAAAAAAAAv8/iOPUatnLl7g/s320/CIMG4801.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144306240887392450" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Our friend Anna, a local who works as a program coordinator for the Peace Corps, set-up the reservation, negotiated a good price, and had her brother drive us over in the family van. After we left the city it took about 30 min for us to get to the winery… As usual, we passed mile after mile of vinyards, but now covered in fresh snow. While sitting in the back of the van, bouncing around like&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkgTfrB8I/AAAAAAAAAt8/rvW1obAItGc/s1600-h/CIMG4791.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144206443027302338" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkgTfrB8I/AAAAAAAAAt8/rvW1obAItGc/s200/CIMG4791.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; beer cans on all the bumps and pot-holes, and after almost catching some air going down and up a hill in the snow at 120, Mark did ask Anna’s if it was her bother’s first day driving. We made it alive and no one got sick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Entering the vineyard we got directed to the office, at this time is had started to snow again ever so lightly. Anna hopped out to find our tour-guide, and once she got back she said that we we’re going to drive the van into the caves? The tour guide hopped in and they opened a gate to the underground caves and there it was an full underground &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkfzfrB7I/AAAAAAAAAt0/MjSqHCdEc48/s1600-h/CIMG4788-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144206434437367730" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkfzfrB7I/AAAAAAAAAt0/MjSqHCdEc48/s200/CIMG4788-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;“city”. It as absolutely amazing. The winery has about 200 employees that work underground in these caves all day, everyday. These tunnels were started about 200yrs ago to mine limestone. In1968, when&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Pi7DfrB5I/AAAAAAAAAtk/u8Lz0p1UrLc/s1600-h/CIMG4840.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144204703565547410" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Pi7DfrB5I/AAAAAAAAAtk/u8Lz0p1UrLc/s200/CIMG4840.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Russia brought in machinery that was able to dig through the lime stone and extract building blocks, they spent the next 40 yr making 200 kilometers of underground tunnels –all big enough to drive through. The winery currently only uses about 50 km of the tunnels. The temperature underground stays constant between 12 -14 C and also has a constant humidity level of 85-95%, and it's dark, making it the&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkhDfrB9I/AAAAAAAAAuE/bfmBZjXgD9E/s1600-h/CIMG4796-1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144206455912204242" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkhDfrB9I/AAAAAAAAAuE/bfmBZjXgD9E/s200/CIMG4796-1.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; ideal environment for storing wine. The deepest point in the tunnel is 80 meters underground, with the restaurant where we ate and tasted wine at 60 meters underground.&lt;br /&gt;So, as we drove through the tunnel, we first stopped at a underground spring, that created a waterfall in the tunnel. Per our guide the water as fit to drink, which I did try and it was nice and fresh. We moved on to see miles of roads with big wine barrels on the side in which wine is stored. (and these are only the barrels, they &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkhzfrB-I/AAAAAAAAAuM/9rQ4DHFJDek/s1600-h/CIMG4797.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144206468797106146" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PkhzfrB-I/AAAAAAAAAuM/9rQ4DHFJDek/s200/CIMG4797.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;also store over 2 &lt;em&gt;million&lt;/em&gt; bottles of wine! The largest collection in the world.) The oak barrels were built from oak that was obtained in Russia. The barrels (6000 liters) are still in use, and after each wine has finished it’s time is the barrels (about 20 years in the barrel), woman climb into the barrels through a tiny door in front, and scrape the insides of the barrels clean and raw before new wine is placed in the same barrel. Supposedly they clean the insides of the barrels always by hand.&lt;br /&gt;We found it very interesting that Milistii Mici did not grow their own wine grapes until 2000. Before that they made the wine from unprocessed after-the-crush wine juice from vineyards around the country. The grape juice was blended by their wine makers then placed in barrels and turned into wine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While driving along the barrels I asked our guide if they all had wine in them. She said only those with a passport did. She &lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnXzfrCAI/AAAAAAAAAuc/5-BPZ8ktTXA/s1600-h/CIMG4805.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144209595533297666" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnXzfrCAI/AAAAAAAAAuc/5-BPZ8ktTXA/s200/CIMG4805.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;explained that a passport was simply a white piece of paper placed on the outside of the barrel, describing the wine and date the wine was placed in the barrel. We continued on and our second stop was at the underground wine cellar. This is the largest underground wine cellar in the world. It is the most impressive cellar I have ever seen, and so much wine. Walking around this cellar was a beautiful experience. You could see bottles that were covered in dust and growth around the corks of all sorts, and others that had more recently been placed there. The wine that was stored here was wine that had spend maybe 13-20 years in wine barrels and was placed in these wine bottles in 2000, for their second aging. Many of their wine’s for sale are from 1986 and 1987 &lt;em&gt;at the latest. &lt;/em&gt;That means that the 1988's have not yet been released! Incredible!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnYzfrCBI/AAAAAAAAAuk/_zZSR8H0b88/s1600-h/CIMG4826.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144209612713166866" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnYzfrCBI/AAAAAAAAAuk/_zZSR8H0b88/s200/CIMG4826.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We continued on, and our guide told us that during 1985-1987 Mikhail Gorbachev, then leader of the Soveit Union, banned or greatly limited all forms of alcohol, and people had to hide alcohos products or they would be taken away to be controlled or destroyed. At Milestii Mici, they hid the best wines in a secret tunnel within the cellar, because corrupt officials would take that first. With that she pressed on something and a whole stone wall moved back, about three feet thick of solid stone. While it was automated now, people used to have to push the whole wall back by hand. And behind the wall there was another smaller cellar tunnel with more wine (small being relative to the rest of the place). In this tunnel the oldest wine is stored. There were bottles from 1968. Our guide told us that Steven Segal, who was visiting Moldova last week to invest in a movie production faciliy, also took a tour of the wine cellar and purchased 4 bottles of wine that were from 1968 for $10,000. As I stood in front of the bottles of wine from 1968, all covered in dust, and nasty assorted detritus, I was wondering how those wines would taste, and whether they were really worth spending $10,000 on. As our guide told us about which specific wines he had bought, I could see how proud she felt being able to tell that story. She told us that becuase the storate conditions are so idea, the wine would last and last as long as the corks were changed every 25 years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We wandered through the cellars that seemed never ending. And our guide kept pointing things out and telling us little tid-bits of information like when she pointed out their Negru de Purcari wine , she said that they ship this wine to England since it’s one of Queen Elizabeth’s favorites. &lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnajfrCDI/AAAAAAAAAu0/OpYwpxhqkpI/s1600-h/CIMG4821.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144209642777937970" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnajfrCDI/AAAAAAAAAu0/OpYwpxhqkpI/s200/CIMG4821.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;At this point I was thinking that I should have brought a corkscrew, they would never notice one bottle missing?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then she said that we were going to our final stop to taste wine…YES!!!!&lt;br /&gt;So, we walked back to the car and drove to our final stop. As, we got there we entered this beautiful hallway, and you could hear live music from a violin and accordion. &lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2RANTfrCNI/AAAAAAAAAwE/9q9U5C_tHGo/s1600-h/CIMG4867.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2RANTfrCNI/AAAAAAAAAwE/9q9U5C_tHGo/s200/CIMG4867.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144307271679543506" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;We entered this nice room, that was beautifully set with wine glasses, bread,cheese, meats, fruit, and vegetables. We were going to taste seven wines. So, as we got poured a little bit of wine for tasting, our guide explained that we should be smelling hints or currants for their Sauvignon, a bouquet of flowers for the Pinto Gris. More food arrived. Then we moved on to the reds, we had a Purpliu, a Codru- which is a mixture of Cabernet and Merlot grapes, then we had their 1986 Carbnet Savignion, which was fantastic. We ended the tasting with a sweet wine – 1987 Traminer, really creamy. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnbDfrCEI/AAAAAAAAAu8/OtNc7mhRA4k/s1600-h/CIMG4843.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144209651367872578" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PnbDfrCEI/AAAAAAAAAu8/OtNc7mhRA4k/s200/CIMG4843.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;As she finished explaining about the &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Pp0DfrCJI/AAAAAAAAAvk/ni7X7XnUZAQ/s1600-h/CIMG4832.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144212279887857810" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Pp0DfrCJI/AAAAAAAAAvk/ni7X7XnUZAQ/s200/CIMG4832.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;last wine, she said well enjoy your food, and just let the waiter know which wine you would like to drink. Basically, all seven bottles we had purchased ( as part of our $50 fee) and we were able to drink them all. So, there we were, sitting 60 meters underground, with beautiful food, and great company making our way through six bottles of wine.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PoeTfrCGI/AAAAAAAAAvM/imqbE43NG0s/s1600-h/CIMG4865.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144210806714075234" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PoeTfrCGI/AAAAAAAAAvM/imqbE43NG0s/s200/CIMG4865.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; For two hours we talked, ate, drank and when the musicians came to our room, we also danced, Blidi even played the accordian! To conclude &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PpVTfrCII/AAAAAAAAAvc/BGnohbQq0dE/s1600-h/CIMG4858.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144211751606880386" style="margin: 0px 10px 10px 0px; float: left;" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2PpVTfrCII/AAAAAAAAAvc/BGnohbQq0dE/s200/CIMG4858.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;our tasting the last bottle was opened. This was a bubbly, which I liked very much. As, we wrapped things up, our guide came back and brought us the two bottles per person that we got to take home. As we had planned to go wine tasting I had though that $50 was not inexpensive to go taste wine, but my vision of what it would be like was purely based on my wine tasting experience in the US. The whole experience was nothing like anything I had imagined, or possibly would have been able to imagine. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Po2DfrCHI/AAAAAAAAAvU/CbS36OeydZA/s1600-h/CIMG4871.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144211214735968370" style="margin: 0px 0px 10px 10px; float: right;" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Po2DfrCHI/AAAAAAAAAvU/CbS36OeydZA/s320/CIMG4871.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, we made our way back to the car, taking photos along the way and laughing. Anna’s brother drove us out of the caves back to a white snowy outside. While we had been down in the tunnels it has started to snow hard, and everything was covered in snow. Our final stop was the wine store, where Mark and I bought 6 bottles of wine. I made sure I picked up on of those Negru de Purcari bottles. Whether the Queen really drank the wine or not, I was sold on it and wanted to try it.&lt;br /&gt;As, we can out of the store in was snowing hard and it was beautiful outside, laughing, we took one final picture and do I have to say more………………..&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Q-TTfrCLI/AAAAAAAAAv0/erVKFU1vID4/s1600-h/CIMG4877.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Q-TTfrCLI/AAAAAAAAAv0/erVKFU1vID4/s400/CIMG4877.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144305175735503026" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-6722955963192997723?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/6722955963192997723/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=6722955963192997723' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6722955963192997723'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6722955963192997723'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/12/tour-and-wine-tasting-at-milistii-mici.html' title=''/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2Q_RTfrCMI/AAAAAAAAAv8/iOPUatnLl7g/s72-c/CIMG4801.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-1966136490819084625</id><published>2007-12-08T04:16:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T09:11:15.320-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting some work done: Politics vs Education, Round 3</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qhgzfrCgI/AAAAAAAAAzM/77zGLMUFyAc/s1600-h/CIMG4563.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qhgzfrCgI/AAAAAAAAAzM/77zGLMUFyAc/s320/CIMG4563.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146103109175151106" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the most impactful circumstances here, for me, has been the way my work role is embedded both in an educational setting and in a political setting. Firstly, because Moldova is so small, the Fulbrights in Moldova are administered through the US Embassy. Thus we are tightly associated with the US Embassy in the minds of our local institutions. (In other countries, Fulbrights are administered by separate Fulbright administrative offices, and are not tightly associated with their US Embassies.) Secondly, my placement is with the "Academia de Administrare Publica, Pe Linga Presedintele Republich Moldova." That means Academy of Public Administration under the office of the President of the Republic of Moldova. Can't get more political than that for an academic institution. So I'm a Fulbrighter, working with the U.S Embassy (and thus State Department), certainly &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;seen&lt;/span&gt; as a representative of the US Embassy, placed in the President's academic institution for government employee training and future public administrators and international relations employees. While I certainly have no political agenda whatsoever, and while the US embassy has in no way tried to influence me with their political agenda, I'm still stuck in the middle of those who do most certainly have strong political agendas. And now I'm also training the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, who have their own strong political agendas and perspectives, and who report not to the President but to the Prime Minister. So in a way, I'm stuck between President's interest, Prime Minister's Interest and U.S State Department interests, and I'm sure the three do not all see eye to eye on all things. To put it nicely, it's been interesting. I think I'll work backwards from here to explain more. Those of you who know my history of getting somehow stuck in between in these odd ex-patriot situations and coming out on the tail end of things (think ping-pong with the minister of justice) can understand my discomfort.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qh9zfrChI/AAAAAAAAAzU/ZKmOomnVSi4/s1600-h/MFA-EI+Group.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qh9zfrChI/AAAAAAAAAzU/ZKmOomnVSi4/s320/MFA-EI+Group.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146103607391357458" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Friday, Dec 7th, 8pm.&lt;br /&gt;It was a cold December Eastern European Friday evening, while having dinner with my wife Chrisna, the phone rings. Against my instinct to not answer the phone, Chrisna (who NEVER picks up the phone) says, "it's Friday night, it could only be a social call, it won't be work-related, pick it up and see who it is." I do, and it's work. No wait -- it's politics... again. This time a ministry representative telling me that they are discussing pulling all of their employees out of the training program right in the middle, just &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;not showing up &lt;/span&gt;anymore at the Academy of Public Administration (my host institution.) Would I think about finishing the sessions at their place? They had a big meeting and would like to continue with "The American Professor" but don't like anything about the rest of the program. Not that I wasn't already of the opinion that they were very disappointed -- I was aware that at least some were unhappy -- but to pull out right in the middle? OY! Nice way to ruin a relaxing Friday night. More politics getting in the way of getting some positive work done. Imagine how rude that would be for the training group to simply quit right in the middle and for them to just kind of steal the one professor they like? It's now even an ethical dilemma: to whom is my loyalty and duty, &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;what team do I really belong to&lt;/span&gt; here -- my host academic institution? my students? the US embassy? the host nation? my colleagues at the Academy? I hung up after saying just wait till Monday, talk about it again and tell me what you guys are going to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chrisna and I agreed this was (hopefully) not our issue, but something to be worked out between the brass at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the US Embassy, the President's office, and the Academy of Public Administration. However, I knew in my heart that I was stuck right in the middle, and that I might have to make a choice and stand my ground. The problem is, I don't even understand what's going on. Communication, both horizontal and verticle is so poor here in administration it's a wonder to me anything gets done right at all. Coordination is often a matter of lucky guessing. Plus, there are so many layers of b.s, and so much face saving and ass-protecting behavior (as I see it) in these organizations, that a direct truth speaking and seeking professor can gain only very limited, and perhaps skewed information. The truth is hidden. So this Fulbrighter is living very much in the land of bounded rationality. Choices to be made when I can barely make sense of the situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday Dec 6, 3:30 PM&lt;br /&gt;When class meeting #2 began, after getting a 1 1/2 hour lecture from the Dean of the Faculty of Foreign Affairs, there were only seven students left in the audience, out of 18 who were supposed to be "required" to attend the training. Three apologized before I began that they simply had to get back to their office, they could not spend a full afternoon with their country desk unattended. Despite having a meeting of only seven, the class went very well. It was enjoyable, we learned from each other and we had some very frank and open discussion. Everyone participated. They shook my hands and thanked me at the end of class. All &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;genuine&lt;/span&gt; smiles.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are other kinds of smiles and thank-you's you know, and since I've been here, I've become decently proficient at discerning one from the other. These were actual real smiles and handshakes of appreciation. And to tell the truth, one of a teacher's best received compliments. I've been learning that politicians, ambassadors and embassy types are really good at not letting you know which is which. Between trying to figure out what's actual truth from &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;sideways&lt;/span&gt; or &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;slantways&lt;/span&gt; truth, and trying to figure out cross-cultural differences in non-verbal language, and cross -cultural differences in verbal indirect cues, and cross-professional cultural differences, it's been tough figuring out what's what around here.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday, 2:15pm&lt;br /&gt;In the office of international cooperation at the Academy of Public Administration before class, I warn  the administrators in that office that I sense there is a problem, that I believe the Ministry audience is disappointed, annoyed and even agitated; I tell them it's odd that we are not coordinating material &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at all &lt;/span&gt;across lectures;  I tell them that there may be a higher level political battle going on that is derailing this very prestigious program.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These two woman barely let me get our the words as they vocalize their disbelief and denials and explain to me that they know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly&lt;/span&gt; what is going on, and know &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;exactly &lt;/span&gt;what they are doing, and that they've been told things are going well, and that I worry too much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think, hmm, maybe they are right, I've really only heard this from some specific people, they could just be the vocal or disruptive minority, maybe I am exaggerating and escalating things. Maybe I'm the pawn in the middle of a gross miscommunication.  Maybe things are fine. Maybe it's another of those times when your intuition is just plain wrong and fooling you. Perhaps I am misinterpreting cues coming in a different culture. Look Mark, they say, seeming to pity me and my unsophisticated-ness, we run training programs all the time for civil servants; this is the setup and how it works; this is the way it always works around here; you may do things differently in your country, but here, this is what people want and need. I start to buy it. While those of you who know me know that the last thing I am is a person who worries too much, I figured that maybe I was not so much worrying as perhaps being snobbish and right-seeking, creating a stink that was not there. Perhaps I was exaggerating and thus getting everyone worked up over nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wednesday night Dec 5th&lt;br /&gt;I'm at a nice function at the Ambassador's residence in honor of the new deputy POA, who will now take over duties administering the Fulbright program among other things. So we get invited. I'm hanging with Carly, and David and Sean and Norma, meeting their colleagues, and there's across the room is the Recteur from my Academy. Boy would I like to avoid him, given that a dissed him severely by not attending his lecture or his introductions on Monday. After a while I think I notice that neither the PAO nor the Ambassador have spoken with him. Something's up. During the evening I get pulled aside twice by the power brokers, asking me what the hell's going on over there? What's this big mess all about?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So there I am with the power brokers. I'm on the one hand feeling a bit vindicated, feeling that nice spiteful I-told-you-so feeling from the dark side.  On the other hand I am thinking: oh shit I am in the middle of powerful political people damn getting worked up over each other and I probably should be far away from and this always ends up bad for me and what should I say should I try to be smart and show that I'm one of them and don't believe in power distance or should I just try to be humble and make believe I believe in power distance and nod and apologize because this might just be my fault, and just in case they think I should or it is and well it can't hurt I wish I were over there by the snack table mmm that smoked fish looks good.  I eventually focus, and I end up doing both, alternating between trying to impress them with my sophistication (of which I have none) and be one of them and apologizing profusely in between. I sure I came out looking foolish and I deserve it. It was nice to hear them assure me this was not my fault, that I was doing fine, and that they agreed with me. Then again, I don't know if they were speaking straight or slantways.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday Dec 3rd 3:15pm&lt;br /&gt;I start my lecture early because the Rectuer is finished early. The room is completely tense, overly formal, and full of stress. I refulse to start until the bosses leave the room. That was our agreement, and I decided to be a bastard about it. They are not happy with me, but I feel it's the only way to save the program. Stick to the agreement I made with the students. No superiors or subordinates in the room; fully confidential.  Some students leave before my lecture begins, a couple say sorry we've got to go, others just dissappear. One takes me aside and tells me the group is nothing short of furious. What a waste of time the lecture was. How mad they are to be forced to leave work all afternood for this stupid welcome to the academy lecture. How they tried to be polite, especially because their superior was there, but boy that the group was ready to rebel.  I was a bit shocked, but not &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;that&lt;/span&gt; shocked. I felt a bit of that I-told-you-so pleasure, but then realized i was faced with an angry resentful group of ambassadors, like a bed of angry oysters closed up so tight there was going to be now way to have any sort of decent discussion.&lt;br /&gt;I pulled out all of the tricks from my teaching bag and when out of those, I just made up new ones. After a hour, I think someone participated. By the end, I thought I kind of had them. If it could just be us from now on.... but it won't be. Damn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;More to come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday Dec 3rd 2pm&lt;br /&gt;I purposely do not go the the Recteur's lecture at 2pm that opens the program. I had told them I might show, but they said I did not have to be there until 3:30 when my lecture starts. So I decided against attending the Recteur's lecture. It was a show of disrespect, and frankly the only thing I could think of in my power to do to communicate my displeasure for how the program got railroaded, and the lack of communication and coordination, and my feeling that I want to be dis-associated from this portion of the program so that the students will see me as different from the authoritarian ego gratification and political currency seeking behavior of the administrators. At the time, that's how I felt, and that's what I did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At 2:10 I got a call: WHERE ARE YOU! The Recteur is waiting to introduce you! I'm thinking: Well why didn't you tell me he was going to do this? Why didn't we coordinate? Why did you not even send me a copy of the program? What I did was calmly say, I'm not coming for his lecture, mine starts at 3:30 "I'll be there around 3:00pm. Panicked and insulted silence on the other end of the line. "Ok" they say. I feel  badly, but not that badly.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-1966136490819084625?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/1966136490819084625/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=1966136490819084625' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/1966136490819084625'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/1966136490819084625'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/12/getting-some-work-done-politics-vs.html' title='Getting some work done: Politics vs Education, Round 3'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qhgzfrCgI/AAAAAAAAAzM/77zGLMUFyAc/s72-c/CIMG4563.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-8389106331327303117</id><published>2007-11-26T08:24:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-27T14:35:15.186-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A little bit about work</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0yblJYkRzI/AAAAAAAAAtA/xS7cx2lAmUI/s1600-h/Negotiating+Courses+for+Ministry+of+Foreign+Affairs.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5137652337399318322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0yblJYkRzI/AAAAAAAAAtA/xS7cx2lAmUI/s400/Negotiating+Courses+for+Ministry+of+Foreign+Affairs.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Just a quick post providing a link to the government news from my institution. One of the things I'm doing is developing and training courses for ambassadors in Ministry of Foreign Affairs. See this link to get an idea of the formality of it all: &lt;a href="http://aap.gov.md/en/news/59/"&gt;http://aap.gov.md/en/news/59/&lt;/a&gt;. I'm preparing an in depth post on work stuff that hopefully will get published in a day or so. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-8389106331327303117?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/8389106331327303117/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=8389106331327303117' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8389106331327303117'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/8389106331327303117'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/little-bit-about-work.html' title='A little bit about work'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0yblJYkRzI/AAAAAAAAAtA/xS7cx2lAmUI/s72-c/Negotiating+Courses+for+Ministry+of+Foreign+Affairs.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-7165074754015948328</id><published>2007-11-24T07:35:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-15T05:14:35.580-08:00</updated><title type='text'>My work in Moldova</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R1vyJ6_XBeI/AAAAAAAAAtU/AD9LXj3dw5I/s1600-h/CIMG4612.JPG"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Teaching and Mutual Understanding&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While here on the Fulbright mission one of the goals, and the primary one at that, is to foster cross-national understanding to promote peace and tolerance. I am finding that the classroom is a good place to pursue that mission. Interacting with graduate students of public administration, public management and foreign affairs, we learn to understand each other's values and beliefs.  The key has been fostering interaction in the classroom rather than one way lecture. Interactive learning is not the norm here. However, it's been easier to implement than I had thought it might be. Using basic western teaching techniques and exercises, the sudents jump at the chance to interact and express their thoughts. This is not S.E Asia where speaking out is rude , it is E. Europe where opinions are repressed because of fear of repercussions (like getting fired). I give them a classroom environment with no superiors, and an agreement that what is said by the group stays with the group -- "it's just us" -- and the students are more than ready to speak up and participate in the teaching and learning. They are smart, they are informed, and given the chance they are ready to lead as necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once this interactive environment is established, we learn from each other. In all three courses I teach here, we continuously find both mis-conceptions and common ground across cultures. In general, we have found that once one gets past the tiny minority composed of top politicians and other power players, the differences across majorities in cultural values and behaviors are endearing rather than mutually exclusive. We may not have all the same values, we do not have the same visions and beliefs, but their is nothing so different at the level of ordinary people that should ever lead to anything but peaceful relations and stimulating debate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I typically present students with a problematic situation, one that could occur in their Moldavian work lives &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;and&lt;/span&gt; could also occur in N. American work lives, and have them figure out what are the key issues according to them, than I help them to see the key issues through N. American administrative eyes and minds. We can then see the similarities and differences in how we view the administrative world, in what we see as important issues, and in how we think it might be appropriate to address issues. The best moments of work are like the one captured in the photo below of a group of student in my management of change course in the school of public managment. They are engaged, debating and learning without me, or any other professor lecturing &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;at&lt;/span&gt; them. I've done this by introducing the case method.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R1vyJ6_XBeI/AAAAAAAAAtU/AD9LXj3dw5I/s1600-h/CIMG4612.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R1vyJ6_XBeI/AAAAAAAAAtU/AD9LXj3dw5I/s400/CIMG4612.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141969651841304034" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It also seems that from both sides, the people think it is the top politicians, caught up in gamesmanship, favoritism and executive narcissism, that create the very problems they struggle so hard to solve. Why is it that leaders do not know when it is time to step aside? Why is it that leaders think that because they led well once in one situation, it means they must lead again now and in the future? One of the great fallacies of leadership is the born-to-lead illusion. We are all born to lead, at the proper time and particular situation. When done, it is someone elses right time. Leaders who hand on after their moment simply can't get out of their own way, or out of everyone else's way. In team ball sports we call it 'clogging' and it always stalls the offense. The basic principle is no different -- catch, pass, clear out, run through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have also found it amazing how the older students that grew up here during Soviet times were taught when they were younger that USA is the enemy, full of bad and evil and so forth --- JUST LIKE WE WERE TAUGHT, but the other way 'round. And guess what? It was all such a bunch of hooey. Everything Soviet was not bad, and everything USA was not good, and everything USA was not bad, and everything Soviet was not good. The distortion perpetrated by our governments and by our media and by movies and so forth must not be repeated. But we can be sure it is happening again with the Islamic countries and the USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The graduate students at the AAP are mostly accustomed to listening to someone lecture and taking notes furiously the whole time. They are less accustomed to having to read articles and cases prior to class in preparation for discussion and debate. So while I've wanted to use the case method as much as possible during my lectures, I've had to build up to it little by little.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank goodness for short cases like "Moses at the Red Sea," "Robin Hood" and "In the Garden." I wish I had more like those. Firstly, everything has to be translated into Moldavian, so short cases make that feasible. Secondly, and more importantly, I've found the students more able to open up if we speak about issues metaphorically or allegorically. If I were to ask them about issues in their own offices, it would be risky I guess for them to comment openly and honestly, or at the very least it would be bad form. However they are perfectly willing to jump all over Moses's inability to make a decision and keep relying upon some big other power to bail out the Israelites. If you know Moldova, then you get the allegory.  They have an easy time speaking , debating and arguing about the border hedges of a garden than they do about national defense. So it starts with the garden, and soon they &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;are&lt;/span&gt; speaking about national defense strategies and open versus closed boarders, and so forth.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-7165074754015948328?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/7165074754015948328/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=7165074754015948328' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/7165074754015948328'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/7165074754015948328'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-work-in-moldova.html' title='My work in Moldova'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R1vyJ6_XBeI/AAAAAAAAAtU/AD9LXj3dw5I/s72-c/CIMG4612.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-4322158091981176415</id><published>2007-11-23T05:43:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-23T15:20:03.678-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Thanksgiving: The day after</title><content type='html'>&lt;strong&gt;Thanksgiving was very nice for the Fulbrighters&lt;/strong&gt; here in Moldova. The turkey was sourced by Fulbright student David Jesse, who has a friend who has an uncle with a farm in the north, who traded a few rabbits for a turkey. He slaughtered it, cleaned it and sent &lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bohZYkRwI/AAAAAAAAAsg/mMdnX1nwh9U/s1600-h/CIMG4551.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136048085509883650" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bohZYkRwI/AAAAAAAAAsg/mMdnX1nwh9U/s200/CIMG4551.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;it down to us in Chisinau the next day. When David, a vegetarian, brought it over on Tuesday, he could not even look at it. I did -- by American standards this was a skrawny, wirely little turkey. Looking more like a goose than a Turkey.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I thought to myself (yes in prose I thought to myself):&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;Where's that American turkey?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;where's the full blown, hormone, lots of meat, and no bone&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;big breasted, brine infested, FDA approved and tested?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;What's with this Moldavian turkey so thin and lean it looks like jerky?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;In dismay it makes me feel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:85%;"&gt;this bird looks like something real, not bred for a Fulbright meal.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Of course I was completely wrong to doubt this bird. &lt;/strong&gt;I took it and brined it overnight in a bucket, and we added six turkey legs from the local market so that there would be enough for everyone, and some leftovers to send folks home with (especially those poor hungry Fulbright students). It was absolutely delicious. &lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bn0JYkRvI/AAAAAAAAAsY/DinltOJd-Oo/s1600-h/CIMG4678.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136047308120803058" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bn0JYkRvI/AAAAAAAAAsY/DinltOJd-Oo/s200/CIMG4678.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Now it was nothing like my usual Turduken (Have I ever told you about my Turduken!? "Yes Trusty, ... you have." Hmm, well... ok.) With the turkey, we had mushroom ragout, spicy thai pumkin soup, stuffing, corn pudding, squash casserole, gravy, mashed potatoes, cauliflower stir fry, spinach and cheese dip, cranberry bread, Waldorf salad, apple pie with crumblies on top, chocolate chip cookies, white wine, red wine, sweet wine, dry wine, and who knows what some of that other stuff was. The combination of aroma, plenty, friends, and noise almost made us feel we were at home. All we were missing was a family argument, some old unsettled grudges and football on the television.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Every Fulbrighter was able to attend &lt;/strong&gt;this celebration reception at the Meckler's apartment. The students: David Jesse (and friend), Sean Golden, Carly Blanchard and her husband, Nils Kauffman (and wife, infant son and brother-in-law). The Professors: Mark Meckler and his wife Chrisna (us), Norma Hervey; Valery Mock, and Kim Taylor. We were also joined by some of the friends we've made who live here, who were born and raised in Chisinau: Liliana (local program director for the Peace Corps), Dimitri (doctor and a trainer at the health club, with his wife and daughter). I probably missed someone, but it was a very nice gathering.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;One thing that is especially nice about the day after Thanksgiving in Moldova&lt;/strong&gt;: The day after Thanksgiving is not a major shopping frenzy day. It is not "Black Friday" here. It's just Friday. There are no hoards of people frantically shopping for Christmas gifts. Even better news, that frenzy will not occur at all. The escalation of commitment to Christmas gift buying and giving has not hit Moldova. Businesses do not depend upon it to save the economy. Citizens do not depend upon buying large quantities of gifts to satisfy their psychological needs. Friends, families and lovers do not depend upon large quantities or qualities of gifts to validate their friendship, kinship or love. Christmas will occur Jan 7th in this part of the world, and families will spend the time together, and may exchange some gifts: and that's it for the consumer bit. This could change as local economics change, and as sales people figure out how to get folks to believe they need something they don't even really want. What a coup that would be -- what a challenge! Getting folks to spend money they don't have to spare on something they don't want or need. Sad to say I'm sure this will get done here as it has gotten done all over. For now, it's just a time where normal folks are doing normal things to live and have some fun.&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5136050314597910306" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bqjJYkRyI/AAAAAAAAAsw/DQqbpUntgiQ/s320/CIMG4580.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-4322158091981176415?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/4322158091981176415/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=4322158091981176415' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4322158091981176415'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4322158091981176415'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/thanksgiving-day-after.html' title='Thanksgiving: The day after'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R0bohZYkRwI/AAAAAAAAAsg/mMdnX1nwh9U/s72-c/CIMG4551.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-4935782988837705912</id><published>2007-11-10T06:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-10T07:07:54.067-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Shoes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXJP96p_ZI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/YgRGWIbsgqk/s1600-h/CIMG4527.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXJP96p_ZI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/YgRGWIbsgqk/s320/CIMG4527.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131228626614353298" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXH496p_XI/AAAAAAAAAsA/mc1mGfGYUq8/s1600-h/CIMG4436.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXH496p_XI/AAAAAAAAAsA/mc1mGfGYUq8/s320/CIMG4436.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131227131965734258" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXH5N6p_YI/AAAAAAAAAsI/EZqO2lMtfpU/s1600-h/CIMG4426.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXH5N6p_YI/AAAAAAAAAsI/EZqO2lMtfpU/s320/CIMG4426.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131227136260701570" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;"&gt;If you want to fit in, &lt;/span&gt;fashion-wise, and also not stand out like a tourist, one thing that has to match around here is your shoes. Luckily I showed up with a pair I purchased in Chernevtsi, Ukraine five years ago. Black pointy dress shoes, well dress shoes by N. American standards, but just plain old shoes to wear with blue jeans or a sport coat around here. I added a pair of brown within two weeks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p class="MsoNormal"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEF96p_QI/AAAAAAAAArI/meNR9G2yhU0/s1600-h/CIMG4540.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEF96p_QI/AAAAAAAAArI/meNR9G2yhU0/s320/CIMG4540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131222957257522434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This week, Chrisna got some local shoes. We looked around for about a week because you have to pick just right shoes to express who you are and what you stand for and how bad you want your back problems to be when you are 50. The selection here is absolutely immense. There are shoes for sale everywhere. Shoes seem to be something of a cross between a regional pass-time, fetish and statement. The style for both men and women are elongated toe-boxes, usually somewhat upturned, narrowing toward the end, sometimes to a sharp point and sometimes to a squared off toe. For women, the heels are high and mostly stiletto style. Boots are worn all year, in winter with warm lining inside and it is quite common for women to wear everyday boots that have four inch heels and go up to or past their knees. &lt;span style=""&gt; &lt;/span&gt;Five years ago in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Ukraine&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; I saw this style of shoe, figured it was part&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEHN6p_TI/AAAAAAAAArg/y9X3fdlvZMA/s1600-h/CIMG4530.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEHN6p_TI/AAAAAAAAArg/y9X3fdlvZMA/s320/CIMG4530.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131222978732358962" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; of changing fashion, believed we’d see them in the &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;USA&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;&lt;/st1:place&gt; within a short time, and that they’d subsequently go out of style in this region. Wrong. While something like these shoes can be found around &lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Europe&lt;/st1:place&gt;, they will be in high fas&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEnN6p_UI/AAAAAAAAAro/Lr7OYPl8KPo/s1600-h/CIMG4531.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 237px; height: 332px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEnN6p_UI/AAAAAAAAAro/Lr7OYPl8KPo/s320/CIMG4531.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131223528488172866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;hion stores only, and quite costly. In the &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;USA&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, they are still not widely seen at all. But here in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Moldova&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, and all around the region up in Ukarine and in &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;Russia&lt;/st1:country-region&gt; and &lt;st1:country-region st="on"&gt;&lt;st1:place st="on"&gt;Romania&lt;/st1:place&gt;&lt;/st1:country-region&gt;, they are still what everyone wears, and what they grow up wearing.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEFN6p_PI/AAAAAAAAArA/PJScpXohnWs/s1600-h/CIMG4528.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 315px; height: 222px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXEFN6p_PI/AAAAAAAAArA/PJScpXohnWs/s320/CIMG4528.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5131222944372620530" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-4935782988837705912?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/4935782988837705912/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=4935782988837705912' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4935782988837705912'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4935782988837705912'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/shoes.html' title='Shoes'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzXJP96p_ZI/AAAAAAAAAsQ/YgRGWIbsgqk/s72-c/CIMG4527.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-2697925875956060652</id><published>2007-11-06T11:48:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-06T12:48:23.867-08:00</updated><title type='text'>On our bikes</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDITY57ZVI/AAAAAAAAAqw/nTIzyl5jFD0/s1600-h/CIMG4521.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDITY57ZVI/AAAAAAAAAqw/nTIzyl5jFD0/s320/CIMG4521.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129820211003483474" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We've been getting around the city either by foot or on bicycles for the most part. The other main mode of transportation is the Masurtka, or microbus. These are white vans that drive like they are on suicide missions. There is one in the photo trying to look innocent. They pull over anywhere at any time from any speed to pick up or drop off a passenger. I take one to my university, since it's way out on the edge of town, and way up a big hill. I am typically one of the 62 people inside that van. It costs 3 lei, three times more than the trolly bus, so it's relatively&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDIS457ZUI/AAAAAAAAAqo/8prwogSJdUk/s1600-h/CIMG4513.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDIS457ZUI/AAAAAAAAAqo/8prwogSJdUk/s320/CIMG4513.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129820202413548866" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; expensive, but you can get on or off wherever you want if you can make it through the press of humans to the door. Oh, 3 lei is still only about 28 cents, so even a teacher can afford it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bought one bicycle, and we've borrowed another. Biking around town is not something that very many people do in Chisinau, and for the adventurous, it's a lot of fun. There are absolutely no rules for bikes, except one, avoid the Masurtkas. You just go where you want, and avoid the cars and the people. You can bike on the sidewalks, on the streets, the opposite way down one way streets, whatever seems best to get you where you want to go. Since drivers are a lot like they are in Boston, you just have to be aggressive: either go or do not go. There is no hedging here on the Chisinau streets&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDJ3Y57ZWI/AAAAAAAAAq4/XjfM_sB0w_4/s1600-h/CIMG4499.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDJ3Y57ZWI/AAAAAAAAAq4/XjfM_sB0w_4/s320/CIMG4499.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129821928990401890" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;. People honk their horns a lot, just in case you are &lt;span style="font-style: italic;"&gt;thinking&lt;/span&gt; of being in their way. The good news is that there are  lots of streets that are less traveled, and parks that you can cut across, so it 's not too bad unless it's rush hour.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's late autumn here now, and getting a bit cold, but still the days are nice and we enjoy the changing colors of the leaves in the city parks. This park is right in the center of the city and we pass through it daily. And here I am wearing almost a typical Moldavian outfit except for the shoes. Blue jeans, a nice sweater, a fancy belt, a black leather coat. I think I am wearing timberland shoes. They are not black, they are not pointy and they are not fancy. I probably stand out like a sore thumb. Once summer ends, if you're not wearing something black, your either a tourist or a Roma.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-2697925875956060652?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/2697925875956060652/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=2697925875956060652' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/2697925875956060652'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/2697925875956060652'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/on-our-bikes.html' title='On our bikes'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RzDITY57ZVI/AAAAAAAAAqw/nTIzyl5jFD0/s72-c/CIMG4521.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-4772458849090598179</id><published>2007-11-04T07:05:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-12-20T09:17:10.999-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Anything you need it's here</title><content type='html'>You can even buy your underclothes right on the street. Why pay for someone's rent in a store? I  waited a long time at this location, but nobody tried one on.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qjGDfrCiI/AAAAAAAAAzg/RgwL8zVcK_Q/s1600-h/CIMG4411.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qjGDfrCiI/AAAAAAAAAzg/RgwL8zVcK_Q/s400/CIMG4411.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5146104848636906018" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f3I57ZQI/AAAAAAAAAqI/vEtRnexxK3E/s1600-h/CIMG4386.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f3I57ZQI/AAAAAAAAAqI/vEtRnexxK3E/s320/CIMG4386.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Chrisna buying napkins&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f4o57ZRI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/VgqATRdtM_E/s1600-h/CIMG4402.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f4o57ZRI/AAAAAAAAAqQ/VgqATRdtM_E/s320/CIMG4402.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;Pots and pans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f5Y57ZSI/AAAAAAAAAqY/KM5NunX7JPk/s1600-h/CIMG4403.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f5Y57ZSI/AAAAAAAAAqY/KM5NunX7JPk/s320/CIMG4403.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;smoked meats, clothing&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f6457ZTI/AAAAAAAAAqg/Mc3-TUQGZng/s1600-h/CIMG4391.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3f6457ZTI/AAAAAAAAAqg/Mc3-TUQGZng/s320/CIMG4391.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" alt="Posted by Picasa" style="border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial;" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-4772458849090598179?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/4772458849090598179/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=4772458849090598179' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4772458849090598179'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4772458849090598179'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/anything-you-need-its-here.html' title='Anything you need it&apos;s here'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/R2qjGDfrCiI/AAAAAAAAAzg/RgwL8zVcK_Q/s72-c/CIMG4411.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-3787232917917634698</id><published>2007-11-04T06:50:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T06:51:10.178-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Egg &amp; Cheese Omelette</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cWo57ZMI/AAAAAAAAApo/6ocVjixfCqY/s1600-h/CIMG4418.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cWo57ZMI/AAAAAAAAApo/6ocVjixfCqY/s320/CIMG4418.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Fresh eggs are for sale for about a $1 for ten. For about half a mile you have egg vendors, one after the other.  Some have a open egg displayed to show-off the yellow color of the yolk. When buying eggs at the market you want to bring you're own container to carry them in, or you will get ten eggs in a plastic bag.&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cW457ZNI/AAAAAAAAApw/QHis1q5Sv1M/s1600-h/CIMG4421.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cW457ZNI/AAAAAAAAApw/QHis1q5Sv1M/s320/CIMG4421.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cheese is locally made by many different farmers. This is an inside area of the market dedicated solely to dairy products. Again, from one cheese maker to the next there is not much difference in cheese. Mark has been buying locally made sheep's milk cheese called brinza.  Also, fresh "house" cheese, it's like a farmers cheese. There are also all kinds of smoked cheeses, and hard cheeses.  I like the way the cheese sellers are dressed.  There are also about four -five grades of different butter you can buy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cXI57ZOI/AAAAAAAAAp4/g1mzpK3Jydk/s1600-h/CIMG4398.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cXI57ZOI/AAAAAAAAAp4/g1mzpK3Jydk/s320/CIMG4398.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cXY57ZPI/AAAAAAAAAqA/oCaRE79MjC8/s1600-h/CIMG4414.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cXY57ZPI/AAAAAAAAAqA/oCaRE79MjC8/s320/CIMG4414.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This woman is selling vegetables on the outside of the market. If, you don't get in on time you don't get space in the market to sell your produce. Those people will sell their produce kinda on the street that runs on the side  on the outside of the market.&lt;div style='clear:both; text-align:LEFT'&gt;&lt;a href='http://picasa.google.com/blogger/' target='ext'&gt;&lt;img src='http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif' alt='Posted by Picasa' style='border: 0px none ; padding: 0px; background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 50%; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial;' align='middle' border='0' /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-3787232917917634698?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/3787232917917634698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=3787232917917634698' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3787232917917634698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3787232917917634698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/egg-cheese-omelette.html' title='Egg &amp; Cheese Omelette'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3cWo57ZMI/AAAAAAAAApo/6ocVjixfCqY/s72-c/CIMG4418.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-6506262001027382673</id><published>2007-11-04T06:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T06:34:11.978-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Oil &amp; Vegtables</title><content type='html'>Here you have some pictures of people selling cooking oil of &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;unknown&lt;/span&gt; origin. So, this is one item that Mark and I have been buying at a regular grocery store.&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X5Y57ZII/AAAAAAAAApI/x_7UFg6m1Wo/s1600-h/CIMG4369.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X5Y57ZII/AAAAAAAAApI/x_7UFg6m1Wo/s320/CIMG4369.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X5457ZJI/AAAAAAAAApQ/lfVKQfM2UTw/s1600-h/CIMG4376.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X5457ZJI/AAAAAAAAApQ/lfVKQfM2UTw/s320/CIMG4376.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For rows and rows, farmers set up their fresh produce. Currently, radishes, eggplant, corn, apples, mushrooms, leeks, lettuce, cabbage ( I have seen cabbage and cauliflower the size of basket balls), carrots,&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X6I57ZKI/AAAAAAAAApY/HdqtLWl7t9U/s1600-h/CIMG4378.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X6I57ZKI/AAAAAAAAApY/HdqtLWl7t9U/s320/CIMG4378.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; tomatoes, peppers, and cauliflower are the most common items sold at this time. &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Vegetables&lt;/span&gt; sold depend on the season. There are fruit that seem to be always available like bananas and oranges. More locally pomegranates and persimmons have been for sale.&lt;br /&gt;I wondered what the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;difference&lt;/span&gt; is between sellers, why does one shopper go to a particular farmer to buy their &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;vegetables&lt;/span&gt;? I have closely inspected &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;vegetables&lt;/span&gt; displayed by &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; farmers and must say that there is no "material" &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;difference&lt;/span&gt;. So, I &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;believe&lt;/span&gt; that over time people buy stuff from the person they have build a relationship with or know. Mark and I have not reached that stage yet, we don't have the tomato guy, or the lettuce woman we exclusively buy from. We buy things from pretty much any farmer if it looks good, and I mean the &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;vegetables&lt;/span&gt; not the farmer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X6457ZLI/AAAAAAAAApg/u0BD_dhcj9A/s1600-h/CIMG4374.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X6457ZLI/AAAAAAAAApg/u0BD_dhcj9A/s320/CIMG4374.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: right"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-6506262001027382673?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/6506262001027382673/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=6506262001027382673' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6506262001027382673'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6506262001027382673'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/here-you-have-some-pictures-of-people.html' title='Oil &amp; Vegtables'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ry3X5Y57ZII/AAAAAAAAApI/x_7UFg6m1Wo/s72-c/CIMG4369.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-7124793443277799800</id><published>2007-11-02T04:26:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T06:05:04.177-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Want sockings, plastic bags, or shoe inserts?</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysJeI57Y_I/AAAAAAAAAoI/8Bj7JldNnyI/s1600-h/CIMG4382.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysJeI57Y_I/AAAAAAAAAoI/8Bj7JldNnyI/s320/CIMG4382.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Here are some more pictures of woman selling merchandise, while holding everything they are selling in their hands.  I bought some stockings with fun patterns on them for about $3 that were just fine. ( I was a little suspicious of course, since there are no sizes lables, and I was wondering if there would be some kind of manufacturing defect)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysJl457ZAI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/nJvX_NZ7abQ/s1600-h/CIMG4384.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysJl457ZAI/AAAAAAAAAoQ/nJvX_NZ7abQ/s320/CIMG4384.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I seems like Hugo Boss is very well liked in Moldova. Wonder if he knows.  &lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-7124793443277799800?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/7124793443277799800/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=7124793443277799800' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/7124793443277799800'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/7124793443277799800'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/want-sockings-plastic-bags-or-shoe.html' title='Want sockings, plastic bags, or shoe inserts?'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysJeI57Y_I/AAAAAAAAAoI/8Bj7JldNnyI/s72-c/CIMG4382.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-3841300486111865071</id><published>2007-11-02T04:21:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-04T05:54:28.726-08:00</updated><title type='text'>A day at the Piata Centrala</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysQE457ZHI/AAAAAAAAApA/mPHb540w_1Y/s1600-h/CIMG4371.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128210276872316018" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysQE457ZHI/AAAAAAAAApA/mPHb540w_1Y/s320/CIMG4371.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; The &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Piata&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Centrala&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt; is the place buy anything from fresh fish to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;electronics&lt;/span&gt;. There is pretty much nothing you can't get here. The market is open seven days a week all year round. Supposedly Thursdays are the best days to go get produce since farmers come in with fresh vegetables on Thursday. I have not really been able to tell a difference between Thursdays and other days in the week.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysPUI57ZGI/AAAAAAAAAo4/637682YCfzQ/s1600-h/CIMG4366.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128209439353693282" style="FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysPUI57ZGI/AAAAAAAAAo4/637682YCfzQ/s320/CIMG4366.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysIX457Y8I/AAAAAAAAAnw/zN2p4QJ1KkE/s1600-h/CIMG4368.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysIX457Y8I/AAAAAAAAAnw/zN2p4QJ1KkE/s320/CIMG4368.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Mark took me to the market my first day here and the first time it was unlike anything I had ever experienced. There are always a lot of people, and so on my first day I learned quickly that personal space between people is not something that people are concerned with. I couldn't understand but it seemed like everybody was in such a hurry. I was pushed forward, to &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;one side&lt;/span&gt;, bumped into, and brushed up against by other shopper trying to make their way past each other in the small walkways between stands. However, after my first time I learned quickly that saying excuse me (in Moldovan) is not needed, nobody does it, you just need to be filling to push your way through a crowd, and hold your space when you are buying something and ignore those that bump into you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysIYo57Y-I/AAAAAAAAAoA/1nIGpzqhrO0/s1600-h/CIMG4367.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysIYo57Y-I/AAAAAAAAAoA/1nIGpzqhrO0/s320/CIMG4367.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I am no more a novice, I have graduated to a intermediate market shopper. Still, once there I do always have a little period of oh yes, it's the market, and you just got to be willing to push and push back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;This picture is near the entrance. Woman, like the one in the in the middle of this picture, are stationed all over the market selling nylon stockings, shoe inserts, or plastic bags that say Hugo Boss on them. Some of these woman are Roma(&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Gypsies&lt;/span&gt; -they don't like to be &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;calle&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;d that so people call them Roma) that come to the city to sell merchandise.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-3841300486111865071?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/3841300486111865071/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=3841300486111865071' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3841300486111865071'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3841300486111865071'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/day-at-piata-centrala.html' title='A day at the Piata Centrala'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysQE457ZHI/AAAAAAAAApA/mPHb540w_1Y/s72-c/CIMG4371.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-6298579552727780836</id><published>2007-11-02T03:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-11-02T03:56:12.075-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Chisinau in Autumn</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysBf457Y6I/AAAAAAAAAng/ZPc9LLpy1KA/s1600-h/CIMG4495.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysBf457Y6I/AAAAAAAAAng/ZPc9LLpy1KA/s200/CIMG4495.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128194248054367138" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ryr_3o57Y4I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/xIiH9p-O3Ds/s1600-h/CIMG4469.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Ryr_3o57Y4I/AAAAAAAAAnQ/xIiH9p-O3Ds/s200/CIMG4469.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128192457053004674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a nice looking city in Autumn. The leaves of the hardwood trees are all changing colors and falling like snow. It's quite nice, as there are a lot of parks around the city, like the one in the picture is a block or two from our apartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is also an outdoor art market just one block from us, and some of the art is nice, although it is mostly just copies of stuff and kitchy stuff. There is one painting I think we might buy. It's on the top left of the photo.&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysAv457Y5I/AAAAAAAAAnY/28b8Pi11tOg/s1600-h/CIMG4459.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysAv457Y5I/AAAAAAAAAnY/28b8Pi11tOg/s320/CIMG4459.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5128193423420646290" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-6298579552727780836?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/6298579552727780836/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=6298579552727780836' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6298579552727780836'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/6298579552727780836'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/11/chisinau-in-autumn.html' title='Chisinau in Autumn'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RysBf457Y6I/AAAAAAAAAng/ZPc9LLpy1KA/s72-c/CIMG4495.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-4717526008496311244</id><published>2007-10-24T03:25:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-24T03:39:38.776-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dpwQiuKI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/wPU0lZxrvqc/s1600-h/picture48.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dpwQiuKI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/wPU0lZxrvqc/s320/picture48.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Our living room. the furniture is new, and the landlord bought it just for us.  Not sure if you can see, but on the last photo there are these little carpet like things on the chairs. Something typical of a Moldova household.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dqAQiuMI/AAAAAAAAAlg/rHqBhZpOZHM/s1600-h/picture51.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dqAQiuMI/AAAAAAAAAlg/rHqBhZpOZHM/s320/picture51.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dqQQiuNI/AAAAAAAAAlo/IQ6h6-GPjVI/s1600-h/picture52.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dqQQiuNI/AAAAAAAAAlo/IQ6h6-GPjVI/s320/picture52.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-4717526008496311244?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/4717526008496311244/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=4717526008496311244' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4717526008496311244'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/4717526008496311244'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/10/our-living-room.html' title=''/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dpwQiuKI/AAAAAAAAAlQ/wPU0lZxrvqc/s72-c/picture48.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-12229956473156342</id><published>2007-10-24T03:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:43:34.601-07:00</updated><title type='text'></title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhQQiuGI/AAAAAAAAAkw/hD_UZjR9_Gs/s1600-h/picture42.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhQQiuGI/AAAAAAAAAkw/hD_UZjR9_Gs/s320/picture42.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; This is our kitchen. See the blue light? There is a blue light in the kitchen that supposedly is good for killing bacteria. Thank god we also have normal light in the kitchen, it is really hard to get used to the blue light. Window looks out over the street in front of our appartment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhgQiuHI/AAAAAAAAAk4/Hh2n2ZOS6Zg/s1600-h/picture43.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhgQiuHI/AAAAAAAAAk4/Hh2n2ZOS6Zg/s320/picture43.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhgQiuII/AAAAAAAAAlA/HrQiOi-QeBk/s1600-h/picture44.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhgQiuII/AAAAAAAAAlA/HrQiOi-QeBk/s320/picture44.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhwQiuJI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Fh35G_OH6k4/s1600-h/picture46.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhwQiuJI/AAAAAAAAAlI/Fh35G_OH6k4/s320/picture46.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-12229956473156342?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/12229956473156342/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=12229956473156342' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/12229956473156342'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/12229956473156342'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/10/this-is-our-kitchen.html' title=''/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dhQQiuGI/AAAAAAAAAkw/hD_UZjR9_Gs/s72-c/picture42.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-676494906660985995</id><published>2007-10-24T03:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T12:45:45.219-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bedroom</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dEwQiuCI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/vMJA719B9bg/s1600-h/picture37.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dEwQiuCI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/vMJA719B9bg/s320/picture37.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; Some pictures of our bedroom. I love the closet and size of the bedroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dEwQiuDI/AAAAAAAAAkY/Dwf8-kV0vnU/s1600-h/picture38.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dEwQiuDI/AAAAAAAAAkY/Dwf8-kV0vnU/s320/picture38.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dFAQiuEI/AAAAAAAAAkg/g4m7yCjm4GI/s1600-h/picture39.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dFAQiuEI/AAAAAAAAAkg/g4m7yCjm4GI/s320/picture39.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dFAQiuFI/AAAAAAAAAko/3eGN4lLl7mU/s1600-h/picture40.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_" style="CLEAR: both; FLOAT: left; MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dFAQiuFI/AAAAAAAAAko/3eGN4lLl7mU/s320/picture40.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt; &lt;div style="CLEAR: both; TEXT-ALIGN: left"&gt;&lt;a href="http://picasa.google.com/blogger/" target="ext"&gt;&lt;img style="BORDER-RIGHT: 0px; PADDING-RIGHT: 0px; BORDER-TOP: 0px; PADDING-LEFT: 0px; BACKGROUND: 0% 50%; PADDING-BOTTOM: 0px; BORDER-LEFT: 0px; PADDING-TOP: 0px; BORDER-BOTTOM: 0px; -moz-background-clip: initial; -moz-background-origin: initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: initial" alt="Posted by Picasa" src="http://photos1.blogger.com/pbp.gif" align="middle" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-676494906660985995?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/676494906660985995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=676494906660985995' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/676494906660985995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/676494906660985995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/10/bedroom.html' title='Bedroom'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/Rx8dEwQiuCI/AAAAAAAAAkQ/vMJA719B9bg/s72-c/picture37.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-9146325282947490977</id><published>2007-10-24T02:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2007-10-29T13:02:37.021-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Our Chisinau Home</title><content type='html'>&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY8EI57Y3I/AAAAAAAAAnI/PYqqbG_1orA/s1600-h/CIMG4354.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126851267615482738" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY8EI57Y3I/AAAAAAAAAnI/PYqqbG_1orA/s400/CIMG4354.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY7Y457YzI/AAAAAAAAAmo/D9mUWz37piM/s1600-h/CIMG4445.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126850524586140466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY7Y457YzI/AAAAAAAAAmo/D9mUWz37piM/s400/CIMG4445.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY7b457Y0I/AAAAAAAAAmw/plLSK4d12Us/s1600-h/CIMG4352.JPG"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126850576125748034" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY7b457Y0I/AAAAAAAAAmw/plLSK4d12Us/s400/CIMG4352.JPG" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Arriving at our apartment I thought we were going to be living in a apartment that would definitely take some getting use to. The building from the outside is unpainted, the stair case dark and dusty....this is where Mark got us an apartment? Well, the outside of the building and the stair case were not at all what was behind the steel double bolted door entrance to our apartment. I was pleasantly surprised to realize that what I had used to form my opinion on what our apartment might be like was totally wrong. I found out later that nobody really owns the maintenance of the outside or the staircase of the building. The only thing people are concerned with is their own apartment. In the week that I have been here the light bulb in the staircase has burned out and was obviously not going to be replaced unless we did it. Mark bought a bunch of light bulbs and replaced it, so now everyone is using the light again. That is how it works here. Anyway attached are some pictures of our Moldovan home. On Saturday we visited another Fulbright Professor and their wife who had a pizza making dinner at their apartment. I had not seen any other apartments yet, but once I saw their place I understood why somebody referred jokingly to our apartment as the Penthouse. Our place is located right downtown in the middle of the city. A great place to be since walking is our main from of getting around. Mark did manage to get two bikes, so we have also biked around the city but so far I have only seen 3 other bikers. Biking is not a common way for people to get around, and roads are not set-up for it. While I am getting more used to it now I still feel that I am getting some disapproving looks while biking around. Maybe that's because I don't fit the typical dress code. In my next post I’ll talk more about what women wear.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-9146325282947490977?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/9146325282947490977/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=9146325282947490977' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/9146325282947490977'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/9146325282947490977'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/10/our-chisinau-home.html' title='Our Chisinau Home'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/RyY8EI57Y3I/AAAAAAAAAnI/PYqqbG_1orA/s72-c/CIMG4354.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2094082008384629323.post-3461506492637349735</id><published>2007-09-01T08:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2007-09-01T08:44:59.573-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Trouble with Packing</title><content type='html'>I packed for about two weeks. It began with laying out a huge duffle bag and a suitcase. Into these, various items were placed that struck my fancy as potentially useful. I started by picking through camping gear: a water purifier pump, rain gear, base and mid layers of performance clothing, &lt;a name="BM_1_"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;hiking poles; then moved to including other odds items like a deflated exercise ball, and a bottle of white truffle oil. After a couple of days of this scavenger packing method, I had two bags and 100lbs of rediculously eccentric gear, and almost no clothes. Chrisna came to my rescue the day before I left. We emptied everything and started from scratch, and repacked three bags of exactly 50lbs each: she even matched my clothes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/2094082008384629323-3461506492637349735?l=chisinauceai.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/feeds/3461506492637349735/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=2094082008384629323&amp;postID=3461506492637349735' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3461506492637349735'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/2094082008384629323/posts/default/3461506492637349735'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://chisinauceai.blogspot.com/2007/09/trouble-with-packing.html' title='Trouble with Packing'/><author><name>Mark Meckler</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/17794537260502881171</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_emPc7KKUCvE/ScUQaoNJ4nI/AAAAAAAABz0/Pa7PajDhrpI/S220/100_4546.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
