Americans Abroad

I have heard from many fellow Americans how embarrassed they can be by their compatriots abroad--the loud, brash behavior, seeming uncouth or uncaring about adapting other cultural norms, and complaining all the time. Dressing in baseball hats, jeans, and sneakers, people argue that they give the rest of us a "bad" name.

For all of you who have encountered such an American, I ask you to consider this American:

Super Prick.

We typically refer to them as "wife hunters" but this man I overheard the other day at the internet cafe took it to a whole new level, as I don't think he's interested in meeting a prospective wife, I think he is only concerned about getting laid.

I ended up sitting next to him when he received a phone call from a fellow disgusting American who was travelling to another city in search of a woman (no lie). The conversation continued for at least 10 minutes where the American man next to me encouraged his friend to come back to my town, because apparently this other man had been burned by some scam or rejected by an earlier woman (sorry, I have no sympathy). The man next to me rallied his friend, telling him "no, man, you're attractive," and asserted that in my town they would be certain to find something "real."

At one point during this conversation, even he began to feel uncomfortable, explaining his location and how, "dude, you know, speaking English isn't good here, and besides, I don't want anyone to hear my conversation." At this I let out an audible guffaw.

Literally, I see these men every time I go to this internet cafe or anytime we go into the hotel nearby that has a restaurant and cafe we like to hang out at. They are not always American, either, as European men come too. They are also not always so blatant about their business here. (As an aside, I met an American owner of a dating agency in the winter and he told me he was here for business purposes and would not tell me what kind of business. That must say a lot about the kind of work you do if you are unable to tell others what it is.)

This man, despite his hesitation of speaking English continued his disgusting talk, essentially talking about women like they were property, commodities, and toys. He referred to one prospective woman as "Super Blonde" several times. Obviously, this is a man who "respects" women and Ukrainians!

During the length of his conversation, I thought about what I should do. As I mentioned, I see them all the time, but this guy just was asking for it. I weighed my options, but knew that I was much too pissed off to really make a cutting remark and would just be seen to him as an American bitch, the whole reason he probably isn't dating in the States (or who knows, maybe he's married?). Anyway, while I was still processing I got a phone call from a female volunteer. I gladly took the call as when I started talking in English with my American accent he looked over at me but didn't say anything. I wanted him to know that I understood every word he said.

However, it mattered little to such a man, as when I left he was chatting up some woman next to him, a Ukrainian woman who speaks English. "Hi, how was your day..." Oh, how I wanted to vomit.

No actually, I wanted to punch him in the face.

I left without saying anything to him, and now I really regret that.

Walking towards home I thought of something I could have said:

"Super blonde, huh? That's pretty funny. When I tell my friends about you, you'll be 'Super Prick.'"

He is leaving on Sunday but perhaps coming back for Memorial Day weekend. If I see him again, we will have words and they will probably be of the four letter sort. Ukrainian women are humans too and deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. Not exploited simply because of the economic advantage American and European men have over all Ukrainians. He is the true meaning of an Ugly American.

Okay!

I finally was able to go down to the ж. д. vauxhaul and buy my train tickets home. I heard stories that some people where having a hard time buying tickets to come down to N-- for the weekend since we are hosting a "music festival" of sorts. There are numerous holidays coming up and a lot of university students have off, so people will be travelling.

There was a long line at all of the ticket booths this morning so I promptly left to go to the VIP kaca. There was a line there too. A line full of angry people since they could not buy tickets for the trains they wanted, since they were all sold out.

I anxiously waited my turn and yes, tickets from N-- to Kyiv where in fact sold out. "All tickets?" I inquired. I could not believe that the first class seats would be taken. "All," the ticket lady told me. Dammit.

I explained to her in my crappy Russian that my brother was getting home and I needed to catch a plane. Okay. What I really said was "my brother will be groom. I need Kyiv plane" and the date. Very good, Molly. Seven months and that is the best that you can do?

Anyway, feeling my anguish and seeing that I was in near tears, she found something for me. A ticket from ODESSA to Kyiv on the same day that will get me into Kyiv around the same time. Joy of joys. I told her to do it, because shit, at this point in time, I don't have a choice. I will simply have to take a marshrtuka to Odessa, adding more money and time, but hey, I'll be home.

I unfortunately also will need to stay in Kyiv an extra night on my way back, because there isn't a train that leaves late enough, "supposedly," although I believe that this too is b.s. But again. It will all be good.

And thanks to Leah for following through on the phone call. I have been assured that there will be pizza awaiting me upon my arrival. I just hope that it's not Dominos or Papa Johns, even though at that hour and after such a long flight, I probably won't care.

Oh, and can I add a liter of root beer?

Easter In Ukraine

Ever since an assignment at Alfred, where I did a report on the Romanovs and read Robert K. Massie's Nicholas and Alexandra, I have been fascinated with the way Eastern Europeans (or at least those belonging to Orthodox Churches) celebrate Easter. The holiday was something I had been looking forward to for some time.

At least a month earlier, a student invited me home for Easter. At the time I was not sure if it was simply a passing invitation or what, but I said sure. As Easter got closer (it is celebrated a week later than in America) she asked me about it again and I made plans to go to her little city in my oblast for the holiday.

Some of you may be scoffing at the idea of hanging out with a student, but hey, they are the only people here not married or with kids, meaning the only folks interested in making a friendship because they don't have other committments. She and I have gotten closer since my time here as well (see an earlier post in February--I think--about coming home for Film Club) and quite honestly, I thought her to be the perfect guinea pig. If it ends up being a total diaster, she'll be gone if a few months anyway, as she will be an au pair in Germany.

I have also been going through a sort of shift of mindset lately, realizing that nothing is ever certain here or anywhere, and I could go home at any time. I have increasingly made myself evaulate what I would consider my triumphs and failings, and whether or not I'd feel that they'd balance out when I went home. Quite honestly, my failings here have been the language and meeting people. Well, technically just meeting Ukrainians. There two failings go hand in hand and what better way to combat them than to spend some time away speaking Russian with a new Ukrainian family.

As Easter is a religious holiday, a great portion of the holiday is spent at the church. Well. Maybe not an extrordinary amount of time, just unusually early. We arrived at church before 4am, and a mass of people had already collected in the small church. The church itself had walls covered with beautiful icons and smelled strongly of incense. Having done the church thing in Russia, I knew to expect the latter, along with the standing for hours on end (no pews, people--comfort does not even exist in church here) but had forgotten about the awing beauty of these paintings. People were moving periodically to different parts of the church, kissing icons, lighting candles, or randomly (at least to me) crossing themselves.

It was just the student and I, and we did take some breaks during the "service" to go outside and sit on a bench in the cold dark morning (4:30am). Many people had already begun to form a circle outside of the church with their Пасхи (a sweet bread that looks like cupcakes that are made especially for Easter), eggs, and other foods, waiting for the blessing from the priest. It was all so beautiful, as they put lit candles in the bread, which created a warm glow to the otherwise brisk and dark morning.

We waited back inside until the mass was over and then found a place amongst the crowd to lay out her bread and eggs. Bells rang and people took their places. Finally, several people came out holding some icons or some other religious art and let the way for the priest who carried a big brust that he would dip into a bucket held by another man and shake it at the people and all over the food. We had to wait what seemed like forever for our turn, as people would be blessed, pack up the goodies and then a whole new group of people would come to take their place. On the third trip around the church the priest finally sprayed his holy water on us and we left, only to see a long line outside of the church gates.

By the time we left, my feet (wearing heels for the first time in weeks) hurt incredibly. So much so I didn't think that I'd be capable of making it back to her house. But we finally made it home, and I promptly hit the sack.

Two Dollars A Day-It's Your Anniversary!

I can not believe that it was only a year ago that I got my acceptance packet in the mail that told me where I was going: Ukraine. It all seems like yesterday.

I remember that moment very clearly as the huge packet was waiting at the top of the stairs for me and how I waited until I was completely comfortable before opening it up. The fact that I had been waiting since October for that moemnt meant I could easily wait a few more minutes (to get something to drink, use the bathroom, etc) before the question was answered: Where was I going?

I guess that I can also be completely truthful now about it too--I was disappointed. Ukraine did not have the same exotic appeal as Bulgaria or Romania or even Moldova. It wouldn't pose as many challenges as Macedonia or Albania. Simply put, it just wasn't one of the countries I imagined myself in. Heck, I mean, I knew all about Yushchenko and the Orange Revolution!

But now I can't really imagine being anywhere else, especially because I do have things like running water, hot water, indoor plumbing and so on. I live in a big great city and work with students I enjoy. I am surrounded by volunteers I adore and had a leg up in language during the first few months. I have certainly done well here, and owing most of that to pure luck of the draw, I guess.

I remember my life a year4 ago as well, when I had easy access to things like TV, cable, a car, friends, family, etc. I am not really even tempted to return to that. I miss those things, for sure, but would not trade this experience for anything.

I am already wondering about the second Anniversary of Two Dollars A Day, about where I will be (still here?), what I'll be diong, and if I'll still be enjoying it all as I am now.

In honor of this occassion, I would like to solicit your responses. I want to know your thoughts about the blog, what sorts of things you'd like to hear about, and of course, my faltering use of the English language. Write away. I love your comments, as they are mostly what keep me (and TDAD) going.

The Presentation of the English Club

Besides my responsibilities as a teacher at the University, I am to head up an English Club.

And in order to introduce such a club, it was necessary (as I was informed) to have students do all sorts of presentations. To read poetry and other aspects of culture. This turned into a big deal when all I wanted to do was just tell studetns when and where to show up. Geesh.

This thing got scheduled and rescheduled almost entirely based on the fact that the Director wasn't around or that I didn't find students to read poems in both Russian and English (had I been told...).

Anyway, this thing finally got doen and it went fine as far as I could tell, but it solidified something that I had been beginning to feel for some time... I love the students, and I dare say they are my favorite thing about being here.

It has been impossible for me not to compare this experience to that of my time as a VISTA. Recently I talked to another PCV my age about her prior experience as a VISTA and it wasn't long before her eyes welled up with tears, evidence of how moving it was for her. Here we feel our value comes from being foreign. As VISTAs our value was in being ourselves.

I did not think that here I would ever be anything beyond a "Peace Corps Volunteer," but I have to say that I was wrong. And this presentation only emphasized that.

Students were slated to read something about food from three different countries: Great Britain, America, and Ukraine. (I only asked for volunteers to read, as I do not like the common practice of commanding students to do something). Reading these texts out loud, I quickly found a strong cultural bias about the habits of Americans.

"Americans eat a lot," reads the very first sentence. "They eat breakfast, lunch, and dinner," it continued. I stopped, lookeda t my class and said, "and you don't eat three meals a day? What they are trying to say is that Ameircans are fat." Of course at that, my students started laughing. They laughed nearly every time we practiced the reading out loud for the presentation. But it really agitated me. British cuisine is good and American food is only noted in terms of how much we consume? What kind of BS is that?

On the day of the presentation, the student reading this text stood up in front of the large room and began, "Americans eat like everybody else..." and I caught her sidewise glance at me.

It is a moment like that (and again, the tact that all my students volunteered) that lets me know that things like student empowerment and critical thinking can and do exist here. That I might be me first, volunteer second.

Hitting the Ethnic Jackpot

In other words, I received Mr. Howe's package, and Mr. Howe's package was good.

A multitude of food stuffs full of flavour, and even some reading material. Even the newspaper packing will be used in my American culture class tomorrow. I mean, sure it's Australian, but we have fish and boats too! There is also some fantastic book about the Crimean War that is a real page turner (yes, I never thought that I'd ever say something like that, but it's really good!)

It arrived yesterday, and as I am suffering again from yet another cold her in Ukraine, it was rather fortuitious that I even bothered to walk the extra distance to the post office, but I am certainly glad that I did, for I was repaid dearly. There were some chicken soup packets as well, which doesn't take a Jewish grandmother to ponit out how good that is when suffering from a cold. Psychic you are! Спасибо болше. Or something like that. :)

Life

I don't think that anyone comes to Ukraine planning to leave, but unfortunately, it happens.

Why?

There's the obvious--some people decide Peace Corps, Ukraine, their site, teaching, etc, is simply not for them. Perhaps cruelly during training we (those that survived) thought of these people as a tad "weaker" than us. Maybe less tolerant. Fair? Heck no.

After Swearing-In, something definitely does change and when people go home early, there is more understanding, whatever the reason. For a lot of us, it is something we don't anticipate. Something not necessarily unimaginable, as we all have things that would pull us home, but something we don't want.

But life happens. Be it here in Ukraine or there in America. Any they leave for their own personal reasons. And we respect them. And we hope for them the best, no matter their situation. And we miss them. But most importantely, we still love them.

My "New" Apartment

So it is official. I moved into my very own apartment some time ago. As you can only imagine, I am beside myself with joy. After 6 months of living with 2 host families, placking and unpakcing, I am finally settled and it is so exciting.

I was very taken with my apartment the first time I saw it (it was actually the only apartment I looked at) mostly for two reasons: the size and the washing machine. Those two things made me not so critical of anything else-or even notice anything else. When I decided to see it a second time, the week before I moved in, I saw the place more clearly. I noticed that the kitchen had no cupboards, for example. Or that the washing machine was kind of old. Or that it lacks any rugs. So my enthusiasm dropped a bit--but after moving ni and trying to make certain things work, I really like it here a lot.

I am a quick walk from a bus and marshrutka stop, close to my host family, and close to a market. I am further from work, but now I get the medical officer's recommended 45 minute a day walk just by walking to work. Anything extra is just a bonus.

The apartment itself has two rooms (actually it has more, but they have storage in the third room), which in itself for volunteers in the city is nice. It has a kolonka, which means I can have hot water whenever I want (as long as their is water), of course the washing machine, a new toilet, a little balcony, a big big bed, a fish tank (без fish), an old tv (no remote, must "program" channels manually), and other comforts of home. I say I am living quite large here in N--, and definitely for a PCV in general.

I think it's quite a cozy place and has plenty of space for visitors, so if anyone is actually interested in trekking all the way out to Ukraine, there is room for you. It's certainly not for the timid traveller, or those used to modern conveniences or expecting Western Europe luxuries or sites; nor is it even the kind of place that I'd want anyone to travel around on their own in, but it's something else, indeed. And for now, it's home.

Thanks for the SMS's

I'd like to give a special thanks to those of you who have been texting me! I have had a hard time writing back for some reason--I need to include your e-mail at the beginning of the text message and they have been coming back to me, unfortunately, unsent, so I have just given up! But I want you to know that they do mean a lot to me, and on occasion, they really cheer me up when things are blue, so THANKS! You are the best!

Transportation

Every week I meet with the third and fourth year students for a course entitled "Culture of the USA." Out of all my classes, this, which should be my favorite considering the subject matter, is actually anything but.

I have yet to really figure out how to impart knowledge to them since they (as a group) are not too talkative, save a few students, so it is hard to get discussions giong (plus the group is just too large).

In addition, I have a lack of resources, as I did not know what (or where), I'd be teaching when I came to Ukraine, so books were left at home. Thankfully we were given a book by PC by the State Department about the US. I am not a fan of the book, but in such circumstances, it will do.

So, I've done such exciting things as have them read or summarize portions of the text, and uh, listen to me. I just have yet to really get their collective attention, and truthfully, by the time we covered education, I gave up and just had them play Mafia (which actually ended up being a trend, as now in any PC quarters involving us folks from N-- we play it).

I've tried a debate game since then, but it was more difficult than I thought since they really didn't disagree about anything.

But a few weeks ago I seemed to make a breakthrough. Faced with the riveting topic, "Transportation," I thought to myself, "Shoot. How am I going to stay awake, let alone my students?" I then realized that of all the authentic materials I brought, I had the most of maps, so I decided to get them out, along with some SEPTA and plane tickets I had kept and come up wtih some questions for each. In total I came up with seven "stations" for groups to do things like find how many interstates traverse the whole US.

Admittedly, some where more fun than others and I selfishly made them find Kemblesville, PA and Ocean City, NJ on the map. They had a challenging time with it and yet enjoyed it.

After coming up with that while lesson planing, I decided to talk about car culture and how much it has influenced us as Americans--from the places we travel as a family (resulting in the tourist traps along the highways near popular tourist attractions) to the food we eat (delivery and drive thru) and how this aspect of our culture is also shown in our media. Trying to think how I could demonstrate this, I realized all I really had at hand was my I-pod.

Searching through what I quickly put on it before I left, I found two songs by Americans that sort of dealt with the topic. Jimi Hendrix's "Crosstown Traffic," and REM's "Driver 8." That evening I went to the internet cafe and wrote down the lyrics, went home, typed them up and printed them out.

The students also seemed to really enjoy this as well, and are probably the only people on the planet who collectively prefer REM to Jimi Hendrix.

I am glad that putting in the extra mile (or kilometer) for the class actually paid off, for at the end several of them (unsolicited) told me how much fun it was.

This week we did the Environment and talked about more serious issues like garbage and pollution and how we can solve these problems. Needless to say, I think that they liked the Transportion topic better. Just goes to show that if you think that something will be too young for them, they'll just think it's fun.

To Kyiv and Back

The trip to Kyiv was productive. I got some information needed for my classes and for some presentations.

We made our fourth month survey and distributed it.

I visited my TCF in her new training town and had dinner.

I met some trainees from the new group.

I returned some books and movies and took out others. I bought some books as well in addition to scouring the book shelves in the PC lounge and found some things of academic interest.

I got to visit with other volunteers and found out that rabies shots are long and complicated (thank God it was not first hand knowledge).

I had to fight to stay two nights at the hotel because of a new policy that apparently sprung up overnight and was not informed to the members (that's PC U for you).

It was also cold in Kyiv. I packed for N-- weather, even though Kyiv is much further north. I just assumed it wouldn't be that different.

It snowed.

The train ride up was uneventful. Mostly because we were to ourselves: 4 volunteers. The way back home involved me telling one older woman about me and who I was only to have her then tell my other coupe-mates verbatim what I told her when they were in the hallway and I was making my bed. I suppose that this was because a man close to my age asked if I spoke Russian. When I was listening to her retell my story that made me realize how elementary my Russian is, "I teacher. I live in N--. I lived in K--, Zhitomyerskaya Oblast for three months. I in Ukraine 6 months. I learn Russian 3 months." It was depressing. The man then wanted to speak English with me, which we did, but I was tired and needed to use the toilet before heading into bed. He took the cue and it was a subdued evening on the train.

I am now at home and it isn't as warm as it was when I left.

I feel myself running down again. This will be a continuous cycle here, I think.

To Kyiv Again

April is going to be a busy and stressful month, I can tell already. am leaving tonight for Kyiv on official business so the blog will be mum until I return sometime late in the weekend.

As much as I enjoy travelling, it takes so much out of me and I don't like having my routine get out of whack, which is what this trip will do if I let it. Thankfully, I have a lot of things (work related) to do in Kyiv, which should keep me on task and out of the PC lounge, although procrastination has been known to happen in my life.

I am excited about the train ride up though, as the boys and I are heading up all together in one coupe, so it should be a lot of fun, not to mention stress free, since I won't have to worry about my stuff if I use the bathroom, etc. The way back will be a different story, but so far all my train travels have been safe and uneventful in a good way!

I just hope that the weather is as beautiful in Kyiv as it is in N--.

"I Want to be in America"

The flight is booked and the tickets are in my possession. I am terribly excited.

Before it seemed perhaps too far away, but now it is in the not too far fture ahead: my brother's wedding, which will take me home for a glorious week where I will not only view the nuptuals and see my family, who I miss; but will also eat any of the following things continuously:

ice cream--still mint chocolate chip on the mind!
pizza
steak (if I can get my hands on it)
salads
stuffed pork chops
crab
lasanga
beer battered coconut shrimp
root beer
Burger King
crab rangoon

If only there was a way to take that stuff back home.

The things I look forward to doing?

The wedding and all wedding events
Seeing my family and friends (I hope that you plan on being around!)
Talking to friends on the phone who I won't be as fortunate to actually see.
Driving (if I get to be so lucky)
Getting "new" clothes from the attic or closet
Getting "new" shoes
Cocktails (inexistant or very expensive here)
Bringing books back
Watching tv. (Yes, I know how lame this sounds, but if the only tv you've been able to understand for the past six months was reruns of 90210 only because the dubbing was so damn slow that when you turned up the volume you could hear the English you'd be wanting to see some "Meet the Press" or "America's Next Top Model" too, okay.)
Going to a movie
Not speaking Russian for a week!

Goodness, I am getting goosebumps just thinking about it all!

Odessa

Odessa has two things Kyiv does not:

the sea and attitude.

While on Saturday the city was packed with hundreds of thousands of drunk young teenagers, dirtying the streets in a variety of ways and making it near impossible to enjoy anything after the parade, Sunday was tame, empty and clean. It certainly allowed me to see what was beautiful and ugly about the place all at once.

I was certainly struck by its sheer size. Odessa is big and riding the public transportation reminded me of being back in NYC because the routes were long and it took a long time for buses or marshrutkas to actually appear, which is almost unlike anywhere in N--, wher marshi and buses are quite plentiful.

I was also not particularily pleased with the seediness of the town. As it seems to be the place where everyone comes to let their hair down, there are even more people ready to take advantage of this--particularly young men. Odessa is known for being a tough town with a rough crowd, and on Saturday, being admist a crowd of literally hundreds of thousands of people it only heightened the feeling of being out of place.

The parade was fun, but getting out and away from the crowd proved difficult, although my group had no problems, only my sometimes painfully touchy stomach (in which cases it is wonderful to be an American because unlike locals, I can run into an expensive hotel and use the bathroom with no questions). Our guide showed us some great gems for good (cheap) food and drinks.

On Sunday the weather cleared and was absolutely beautiful. This time taking to the streets the city had magically purified itself overnight from all the dirt and grim left from April Fool's Day. The city was nearly spotless from the night before (save a few broken bottles here or there) and allowed us to leisurely see the real beauty of Odessa: the archetecture, which was crumbling in most places, but amazing nonetheless.