The Geography of Bliss

After visiting happy places, Weiner sets off to an unhappy place: Moldova. The former Soviet republic ranks last in the Veenhofen database of happy places. Weiner lands in Chisinau, the capital. In the airport, the people do not seem particularly unhappy.

Weiner meets Natasha, a Moldovan whose grandmother Luba has an apartment where he can stay. Luba does not speak much English and mostly spends her time watching Russian soap operas.

On a walk, Weiner notes the scowl and shuffle of residents. After the Soviet Union collapsed, Moldova lacked the national or cultural unity of other former republics.

In the streets, Weiner sees misery, which may be due to confirmation bias:

A blind man with sunglasses and cane, like some caricature of a blind man, hobbling down the street. An old woman hunched over so far that her torso is nearly parallel to the ground. I hear someone sobbing behind me, and turn to see a middle-aged woman with dark hair, her eyes red from crying (190).

Weiner stops at a cafe, where people drink beer and smoke in the morning. After the Soviet collapse, Moldova received funding, but the country did poorly. The famous Russian author Alexander Pushkin hated the time he spent in exile in Moldova.

Returning to Luba’s apartment, the bus breaks down. Locals leave the bus without complaining. Weiner references research by Martin Seligman on learned helplessness—the mental process of giving up trying after too much failure and lack of support. Weiner wonders whether this is what has happened to Moldovans: “Have they been beaten down—shocked—so many times that they’ve simply stopped trying? Is this a nation of the learned helpless?” (193).

Natasha and other women wear short skirts and heavy makeup. She says that they are unhappy specifically because of insufficient money. This is a common refrain that comes with a lot of hardship: “Per capita income is only $880 per year. [Moldovans] need to travel abroad to make money. Some Moldovan women are tricked into working as prostitutes. A few Moldovans even sell one of their kidneys for cash” (193). For Weiner, however, the problem isn’t really poverty—there are poorer but happier countries—instead, Moldova’s problem is that it compares itself to wealthy European countries.

Weiner buys a bottle of Moldovan wine, of which the country is proud, but calls it terrible. Weiner telephones Vitalie, a blogger. They meet at a Moldovan restaurant, where Weiner finds the food disgusting.

Vitalie complains about lack of customer service, lack of Moldovan culture, and general lack of trust. Moldova has been invaded numerous times, which makes it hard for a cohesive culture to form. On the positive side, Vitalie likes the toughness of the people, and the freshness of the produce. Vitalie also ascribes Moldovan unhappiness to Transnistria, a breakaway republic, and on the chaos that followed the breakup of the Soviet Union. However, political scientists note that people in democratic countries are not necessarily happier than under dictatorships. Happy people may produce democracies, instead of democracy producing happiness. Trust is required for democracy.

Weiner meets Marisha, who works for the company that arranges visits such as his stay at Luba’s. Marisha once ran a website for foreign men to meet Moldovan women, but too many of the women were scammers. Marisha says that Moldovans seek happiness in money, which paradoxically produces unhappiness. As Weiner and Marisha visit a museum, she explains the sexy skirts as women competing for Moldovan men. Weiner mentions Moldovan phrases that represent the country, such as “Not my problem.” Moldovans have much envy, producing unhappiness.

Psychologists in Japan find that simply counting the number of altruistic acts one performs increases happiness. Neuroscientists find that the part of the brain for altruism is as old as old as the part of the brain that harbors the desire for food and sex.

In a crowded van Weiner leaves Chisinau for the southern town of Cahul. In Cahul, he meets members of the US Peace Corps, who complain about the local culture. Instead of making Moldovans happier, being in Modova has made the Peace Corps volunteers unhappier, though they do say positive things about the produce. A Peace Corps volunteer named Joanna argues that Moldovans are unhappy because they lack power. Because she feels like she is doing something positive in Moldova, she is happier there than in New York. American researchers find that altruism makes one happier than higher-paying jobs.

On the bus back to Chisinau, a man helps an old woman board, Weiner’s first observation of altruism in the country. Because it was the wrong bus, the other riders, including the helper, jeer her.

Back in Chisinau Weiner meets Sandru, a Moldovan nationalist, who is angry at the lack of national identity.

Marisha translates so that Weiner can interview Luba. Luba was born in Russia and lived in Kazakhstan before coming to Moldova. After the Soviet Union collapsed, her husband died and her children moved far away. Luba lost material comfort when the Soviet Union fell. However, the loss of connections with coworkers and family may make her unhappier: “We need a solid identity—ethnic, national, linguistic, culinary, whatever—in order to feel good about ourselves” (215).

Luba depends on a pension, but does not complain about money. Weiner gifts her $100, more than twice her monthly pension. Without telling her, he also puts $100 in her dictionary, on the page harboring the definition for the word “happiness.”

At the airport, Weiner reflects that other people’s problems are also one’s own: Other people affect one’s happiness, so even though poverty itself is not the problem, everyone’s reaction to poverty is.

Weiner visits a sexy bar in Thailand where foreign men pay to watch resident women. Thai permissiveness is less deliberate than Dutch permissiveness and has a potentially harmful power imbalance, as foreign “sexpats” look for sexual pleasure from locals. An American resident, Scott, is dating a Thai woman, a former dancer, because she has a beautiful smile. In Thailand, different types of smiles have names.

In Thailand, like in Inuit culture, excessive thinking is discouraged. The Thais have a saying, mai pen lai (“never mind”), which encourages forgetting about problems instead of sulking. Weiner writes:

When you get down to it, there are basically three, and only three, ways to make yourself happier. You can increase the amount of positive affect (good feelings). You can decrease the amount of negative affect (bad feelings). Or you can change the subject (225).

However, studies of people listening to music find that thinking reduces pleasure.

Denis, an American journalist in Bangkok, complains about the country. In general, Denis approves of mai pen lai; he also likes jai yen (“cool heart”), or the concept of not getting angry. Kunip, a Thai school principal, describes jai yen with a story. When a neighbor’s banana tree grew over onto Kunip’s property, instead of getting angry, Kunip simply broke off a leaf so that the neighbor’s gardener soon trimmed the tree. Still, despite not having an angry culture, Thailand has a high murder rate and a violent national sport (muay Thai).

Sumet Jumsai, a Thai architect, says that Thais have fun even at work, more so than Americans. At a United Nations building, Weiner meets Sureerat. She says that Thais are happy because they do not take things seriously. By contrast, Americans work seriously and pay people to do even more work. In Thailand, people make jokes in meetings, and about friends.

Weiner argues that Thais are more accepting of problems than Americans, which he thinks is reflected in the acceptance of superstition and the supernatural. Weiner describes a shrine set among shopping malls; later, in Chinatown, he sees spirit houses protecting against evil in front of buildings. With Scott, Weiner visits a fortune teller who reads Weiner’s past and future from a deck of cards. While Scott is skeptical, Weiner argues that Thais may not feel in control of their destinies.

At Scott’s apartment, his partner, Noi, watches TV as a coup is beginning in Thailand. Weiner is shocked: “Coups don’t really fit into my search for the world’s happiest places, and this is just the sort of unhappiness I’ve been trying hard to avoid” (241).

The airport remains in operation during the coup. After flying back to Miami, Weiner reads that the post-coup prime minister, Surayud Chulanont, promises to focus on increasing happiness instead of the improving economy: “It is largely a public relations ploy, but, still, a military government with a happiness policy!” (241).