If a playground were being dedicated in America, you might see a child cutting a ribbon, a mayor shaking hands or a reporter interviewing happy parents.

On Sunday, we attended a Moldovan version that offered all of that and more: a priest sprinkling holy water on the equipment, a wrestling tournament and a couple of giant mice.

The new playground, which is beautiful, is in a park in the center of Ialoveni, the town where Champa and I moved on Thursday. We attended its dedication with two of our new Peace Corps neighbors, Michelle and Cynthia. The mayor welcomed us enthusiastically as things got under way, making sure we got pieces of the ceremonial bread to eat. He then helped a boy cut the ribbon and declared the playground open.

As the children raced inside and a television crew spoke with some of the parents, an Orthodox priest lit candles, chanted prayers and walked through the crowd to sprinkle blessings on people and equipment alike. The mayor, who is wearing a blue shirt in the video, carried the water beside him.

The festivities then moved down the street to the Casa de Cultura, or cultural center, where people watched as wrestlers competed to win a ram tied to a nearby staircase.

The crowd included Igor Balaur, a local wrestling hero who competed in the Olympics years ago and was now visiting with his family, which lives in France.

The dedication was part of a larger “diaspora day” honoring Igor and the many other Moldovans who reside abroad. It also featured two other notables from another country, both with big ears, with whom you can see us posing in the photo. Perhaps you recognize them.

Peace Corps has trained us to be open to new experiences, although that didn’t quite describe Mickey and Minnie. Still, we all managed to be culturally flexible. It was a beautiful afternoon. The kids were happy. The parents were happy. We were happy. It was all of that and more.

Before I joined the Peace Corps I wouldn’t have thought twice about eating a bowl of cereal, waving goodbye to my wife and walking to work. On Friday morning, all three things made me happy.

I had corn flakes for breakfast with a cup of coffee and a banana, as I sometimes ate back home. Here in Moldova, though, for the past two months my wonderful host families served me breakfasts of kasha, sausages, eggs, chicken cutlets, spaghetti or hot cereal. I enjoyed the food but yearned for cold cereal and a cup of coffee. On Friday, that’s what I had.

A day earlier, Champa and I moved to Ialoveni, the town near Moldova’s capital where we expect to serve as volunteers for the next two years. We’re staying with a local family but are cooking for ourselves. The corn flakes were included in the first three bags of groceries we bought for $16 at a nearby market.

After breakfast, I waved goodbye to Champa, who stayed home to finish our unpacking. Once again, that was unremarkable, except that she and I are now together again after being separated through most of our training. We knew in advance we would live in different villages during training, since we work in different programs. We made the best of the situation but, after 36 years of marriage, we really missed each other.

Similarly, it doesn’t sound like a big deal for someone who has worked for four decades to get up and go to work. Yet it’s been more than a year since I left my job in North Carolina to pursue a new life of adventure and service with Champa. Friday morning was my first “go to work” day since then. Peace Corps has assigned me to assist Ialoveni’s county government with development projects and to help the local community in other ways. This time around, I’m not wearing a suit. I don’t have a staff. But it’s important work and I’m excited to get started.

In these and so many other ways, being “not exactly retired” has helped me to see my previous life with new eyes. On Friday morning alone, I savored things as unremarkable as a bowl of cereal, the shower I took before breakfast and the cool morning that followed a long hot spell without air conditioning.

Such simple pleasures were there in front of me when I lived in America. It’s only after I came halfway around the world that I noticed them again. I’d feel foolish if I weren’t so grateful for the nudge.