The Russian Lesson

A woman who comes to my film club decided that we should do a language exchange. She offered to teach me Russian and she’d use her English in the process, to teach me. I was anxious about this but wanted to at least give it a try.

On the day of the lesson, I left my apartment and saw that I was waiting for a marshtrutka with a gentleman who works at the computer shop downstairs that I frequent to make copies for my classes. When he noticed me he said “zdrastuvutye” in a surprised tone and then, as the marshtrutka was safely on its way, he (who was now sitting directly across from me) leaned in and asked me what I was doing in Ukraine. I told him where I worked but he did not recognize the name of the university. I told him it was by another university, the Harvard of N—, and it turns out that was where he went to school. I complimented him, as the students I’ve worked with from that university are quite enthusiastic and have an excellent grasp of English. Satisfied, he sat back, thought for a moment and leaned in again. “Do you like it here?” he asked. I told him that yes, I did. He looked out the window. He didn’t seem to like my answer. He thought for a moment and said, puzzled, “I can’t believe you like it here.” “Patcheemoo nyet?” I responded. “Why did you come here?,” he wanted to know. I explained I wanted to learn a foreign language, and I was actually on my way to tutoring. He then gave me some advice about learning Russian, “you must think in the language!”

He’s right. I tried in the past. It slowly dwindled down to counting in Russian, and then...nothing. “I dream in Russian,” I responded, which is true, be it a simplistic baby Russian. And I told him I thought of getting a cat and speaking to it in Russian. “No. You must get a bird and teach it phrases.” This was another excellent and original idea, but I declined. Who wants a bird, anyway?

He settled back again until our ride was almost over. Again, he looked at me and said, “but why do you come to our shop? There is a place to make copies across the street from the university.”

I suddenly felt extremely guilty and caught. I love the place that he is referring to. A family run business where the owner, wife, and two sons are extremely friendly, pleasant, and take excellent care of me. But there are students there all the time, and I always feel like a moron trying to explain things or being politely asked questions only to have no idea what is being asked. Plus, it’s just a lot easier to run downstairs and out of my apartment to the front of the building and get the copies made and come back to my apartment and sort everything out before my lessons start. My fellow passenger seems pleased with my answer, but informs me that they use their copy machines there too.

We get off at the same stop and I trot away quickly, as I am late to meet my tutor. She and I go into McDonalds for our lesson. We barely get started when we attract the attention of a young man sitting next to me. “Do you know English?” I asked in Russian. “Sure,” he responded in English and he asks me what I’m doing there. I explain in Russian (I mean it’s my tutoring session, afterall!) and then he asks me why I am learning Russian and not Ukrainian, which leads me to try to sidestep this potentially awkward situation (with political connotations), although to me it seems obvious. “Everyone in N—speaks Russian.” Duh, dude.

He doesn’t seem entirely happy with my answer, saying that people at home speak Ukrainian (uh, not really, I’ve done informal surveys with all my students, I only have two who speak it at home) and then that people in villages do (which is true, but I don’t live in a village). Eventually he lets up and I continue my lesson and he tries to help before he finishes his meal and goes.

I am not opposed to learning Russian. I just wish it were easier. And think about the situation from when I left my apartment (where I speak to no one) to the actual tutoring session itself—I accidentally met two people who speak English very well and one of whom seems upset that I’m learning Russian instead of Ukrainian. It almost makes me question the point of learning Russian at all…

Grrr and Brrr!

Last Tuesday I woke up and set out for my first pair. It was cold outside and during my walk I tried to remember what time of year it was last year when I finally starting wearing long johns. I certainly thought that it was after November, but I could have been mistaken.

After I taught my two pairs, I walked out of the building and noticed it was snowing. On October 17th! "Maybe it will be a light flurry," I thought, after first uttering a few expletives. But no. It continued all day, coming down harder still.

Again, I tell you that I have no heat in my apartment. And my windows have yet to be “winterized” which is a fancy word that means sticking foam and rags in the cracks to keep cold air from seeping in. Also, I can’t seem to find my gloves.

I think it’s going to be a long miserable winter. Maybe I’ll finally learn how to knit.

Oh Well

Gone the way of tequila shots, tight jeans, and fat free Entenmanns’s muffins, dial up internet at home can be added to the list of things that were “a good idea at the time” but just not worth it in the end.

I got my phone bill for last month and looked at some strange charge that seemed to me to say (remember-all official documents are in Ukrainian) “city language.” My more adept sitemate affirmed my fear. Yep. I was getting charged to make local calls.

Can you believe that?

So not only am I out over fifteen bucks this month for that charge alone, but I can also look forward to bigger charges next month. This may not at all seem like a big deal to you, but that money can easily make or break me for a month, and now I likewise have to plan for next month’s upcoming disaster.

There is a “call back” option on my internet card that I’ve tried since I realized that calling out could be hazardous, but it either will not connect, or when it does connect, it does not work well, if at all.

Originally a plan for convenience and to save money, the internet has really not helped me achieve either goal in the end. So I guess it’s back to the internet clubs for me. Ho-hum. It just seemed like such a good idea at the time…

Autumn*

Fall is so beautiful. Leaves turning colors. Beautiful vibrant flowers still in bloom. The crisp feeling in the air that makes you aware that the cold is coming, but the sun is now still out and it's okay to take off your coat and let the sun warm your shoulders.

The market is full of fall's bounty, and just about everything is cheap. Tomatoes, oniions, potatoes, all around two griven a kilo (about 40 cents US) and countless lother fresh goods to be had at reasonable prices.

Traveling provides an excellent vantage point over brown fields, shorn, but still alive, as you look over them from the train, bus, or marshtrutka. Houses have small but plentiful gardens and one can see spots of orange where pumpkins and other squash are growing. Bright purple and blue morning glories crown gate entrances and people seem busy.

Pupils put on uniforms and head out in the morning but can be seen wandering in the afternoons, usually with a bag of sunflower seeds in hand. Students line the sidewalk between the two university buildingds. They crowd together goofing off, wasting time with clouds of smoke over their heads. It is still not terribly cold, so they do not need jackets.

Soon it will start to get darker earlier. It will be too cold to not layer clothing. People will walk more briskly, more hurriedly. They will be less patient.

Soon my second cycle of seasons will begin. Another fall, another winter, another spring and so on. Soon I will have to winterize my windows all alone. Soon I'll have to buy canned fruits and vegetables because I have no host family and I never learned how to do it. Soon I'll be begging for the centralized heat to kick on, bundling up under blankets, sweaters, and long johns-shivering.

But for now, I'll enjoy the fall.

*This was written over a week ago. It has gotten cold. Fall is finally here, without any hints of summer left!

The Kitten

Stray animals are more the rule in Ukraine rather than the exception. It is not uncommon to pass by a dozen or more cats or dogs on my way to work in the morning, or to see the same ones day after day.

Close to my house, from this summer on, I have noticed a cute black and white kitten. Usually friendly, playing about, or stealing a bite to eat from the shoorma lady, he's a regular and I always slow down to say "hello," even if just mentally.

This Monday I saw him playing by the tram tracks, which, although not out of his area, was unusual. As I passed he was meowing and looking up. Then I noticed it. His left eye. It was all white and filmy but for the outer edge, which was all bloody. The whole eye bulged unnaturally out of its socket.

It caught me entirely off guard and I stopped to call out to him, but as I had no food to offer and I was too awestruck to touch him, he lost interest. I became sick to my stomach and felt a certain sadness and anger (and guilt) that he was not taken in before that happened. That I had not done so. Such an injury on an older cat would be bearable, but a baby? My throat became constricted and I had to fight back tears as I continued walking.

It took me a good twenty-five minutes to forget about it as I continued my long walk to work.

Such is life in Ukraine. It would be a luxury to weep for an animal without a home, and I, like so many others, can not afford such things. Ukrainians, more so than Americans, understand that life is not fair.

Kyiv and Cherkasy Oblast

This past Friday I was in Kyiv for a meeting. While I enjoy seeing the folks at the meeting, I have grown to really dislike Kyiv based almost entirely on how much it costs to travel there.

I am also not a fan of the crowded streets and subway cars or the colder climate, compared to my tad bit warmer southern home. Kyiv has elements of beauty and big city, but going from my smaller city to the big city does not leave me as impressed as it does other volunteers. One of these days I'll have to do the touristy thing and maybe then I'll change my tune, but for now, it's expensive and over-rated.

What I did last time and will continue to do, is use these 4 times a year meetings as a spring board to visiting other volunteers in areas that might be otherwise difficult or expensive to get to.

Last time I trucked over to Lviv for the weekend and this time, a friend and myself went back with another friend to her site, 2 hours south of Kyiv. Her site is by far the prettiest one that I have seen.

In all of Ukraine that I have experienced, this area reminded me the most of home. Soft rolling hills, bucolic scenery, fall colors touching the trees and fields. Fast water turning into a dead stand still around the bend, becoming a lazy pond. Rocky outposts made smooth from years of water wear make excellent spots to sit down on and take in the scenery. It all made me so sad to have not brought my camera.

They have a lot of history and scenery there--a nineteenth century castle, a large and beautiful park, a natural spring, and much to do with Ukraine's undisputed national hero: Taras Schevchenko. In her town, legend has it that he ast under a tree and wrote one of his famous poems. The tree still exists today, although it is oddly cemented up.

It was sad to leave, not only because of the company, but also because of the peaceful environment. How nice it would be to be able to stroll a ten minute walk and find myself surrounded by a forest or in a field by a river. A ten minute walk in any direction in my neighborhood will not bring me natural beauty or quiet. Such is the life of living with certain conveniences being within an arms reach versus living by nature.

8 Misconceptions about Life in Peace Corps

This is in honor of both my anniversary here and the arrival of the new group, Group 31 in Ukraine on October 1.


1. We don't all live in mud huts. Some actually live in nicer places then they would in the US. Although that is definitely not the average.

2. Some save enough money to travel to foreign countries. These PCVs typically are a) married or b) live in small towns where they have nothing to do, so consequently, they have nothing to spend money on. Neither is me.

3. You may think that they are saving the world, but they are probably down that the local bar drowning a pint "waxing philosophical" with other Volunteers about some deep topic or other, like about which SNL character was the best.

4. They are fluent in the communities language. Unless that language is English,l or they came into the country with a background in the language, it is less likely to be true.

5. PC service is romantic, sort of like traveling to Tibet to find the meaning of life. It's usually a lonely and rather self-reflective time iwth lots of reading and preparting for the GRE, LSAT, or the Foreign Service Exam. However, it serves them to have you think that it's romantnic, so when they come back to the States they can get lots of dates. That, my friends, is what sacrifice is all about!

6. Aimless shiftaboutsjoin in order to give their lives meaning. No. Over-achievers, ambitious, and challenge-driven. The whole lot.

7. Volunteers are liberals who like to sit around and sing kum-bay-ya. Not true. I've met plenty of folks who consider themselves Republicans and we prefer to sing John Denver's "Leaving on a Jet Plane," thank you very much.

8. Service is about sacrifice. While I would not want to take away from anyone's reasons for joining, it is often times a means-to-an-ends or resume builder to certain people (especially younger people). People who have agendas for public service, teaching, graduate school, and so on, seem to think that this is a great stepping stone and character builder. I happen to think that they are right.

So, there you have it--some of the popular beliefs hopefully disspelled.

Celebration!

It is official:

As of today I have been in Ukraine for a year. An entire year.

One year ago today I arrived at the Borispol airport with 115 other folks not entirely sure what I had gotten myself into.

Slowly but surely we adjusted into a settled life here in Ukraine. I am now comfortable in my home, my community, and my work.

To celebrate this occasion, a group of people went to an oblast center to the north of my own to play softball and hang out. The softball game is a biannual event that is open to all volunteers interested, and in total, approximately 50 volunteers were there. It was a big event.

I, of course, watched the softball from the sidelines and chatted with other folks who decided to sit it out. It was cool though, as the game not only included PCV's, but also Ukrainians who play the sport. This city is the home of the national champions for something like 10 years running (okay, so I think that there are something like 4 teams total, but still!) and so the teams were mixed up, which was cool to see Americans playing on the same team with Ukrainians.

After the game, some of us went back to our rented apartment and made dinner and got ourselves fixed up for the club. We met up with the other volunteers in town and slowly, group by group, made our way over to the club.

The club had three floors. The first floor had a dancefloor, the second floor a bowling alley, the third floor billiards. I stayed mostly on the first floor, as I have a reputation to uphold--I was nominated the "best female dancer" in my group (which only speaks to the lack of diversity in my group--if I am considered best dancer, then you know it's a joke!). After 2 or 3 hours on the floor some of us headed back to the apartment for some attempted shut eye. Got a bus the next day and headed back to site.

Although I did not get a long opportunity to speak to many people, it was still great to see so many folks, especially those I don't get to see that often, and remember how clueless we all were when we arrived a year ago. It was a great time.