The last time I spoke with my brother before coming to Moldova, he told me the two things he knew about this country: one, that it was labeled “The Saddest Place In the World,” by Eric Weiner, the author of the book, The Geography of Bliss; and two, that Moldova was world-renowned for its delicious berries. To me, that seemed like quite the oxymoron. Who in the world could possibly be sad with all of those berries?
The longer I have been in Moldova, the more I have to disagree with the author of The Geography of Bliss. Certainly, Moldova has a tumultuous past and a tremulous present, but the smiles and hospitality extended to us by the villagers here in Rassvet reflect to me a warmth and genuine friendliness that I have not seen in some of the other Eastern European nations we have visited. Indeed, across the street from our little bungalow, one of the village boys always greets us with a huge smile on his face and a hand outstretched with a piece of chocolate or a bag of fresh-picked cherries for us.
One of the things that has struck me about Moldovan culture is its strong sense of community and camaraderie. During our walks through the village, we have made friends with many of the villagers and, through broken English and body language, have shared quite a few laughs. They often look at us with curiosity and amusement, but I am always amazed by their gentleness and warmth once they see that we are here to serve the community in what little ways we can.
Among other World Racers, Moldova has often been called the “Africa of Europe,” in that living conditions in most of the country are often basic and rustic. However, one of the stark differences I’ve noticed here, at least in the village where we live, is a sense of contentment with life as it is. In the African villages where we were, there was often this sense of discontentment. I was always shocked when children would unabashedly come up to me in Africa and say, “Give me MY money!” as if they were entitled to what little change I had in my pocket.
I have not had the same type of experience here in Moldova. In fact, the children have surprised me by their giving hearts and the ways that they love and trust us. Each day, we play soccer (or “football” as the kiddos here say) at the local field, and the children come from all across the village with hugs, smiles, and laughter, ready to play. As we walk through the streets, picking berries along the way, it’s not uncommon to hear the children singing “Boom-di-adda” or chanting “Boom-Chicka-Boom,” things we have taught, from their backyards.
Moldova is far from a perfect place, but I have to challenge Eric Weiner’s perception that Moldova is as sad as he claims it to be. Perhaps he just needs a handful of berries, and the sweet taste of God’s love in the community that we have found here.
Some of the village children on Children's Day (June 1st)
