Two Dollars A Day

Photos and thoughts from the past and present and dreams about the future.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

Thanks for the Well-Wishes

Today was by no means a good day, even by being in a beautiful city surrounded by beautiful things I found it hard to be focused on much of anything.

I have been staying in a hostel with a room full of Aussies, and while I was resting one came up and told me "hey, there is another Peace Corps Ukraine volunteer here!" I asked him his name and when he told me I got excited. Running down to the bar, it was confirmed! It was the very first person I had met before joining Peace Corps (for those of you who are PCVs, his initals are the same as mine) and it was great to see him and have some company, as I've always enjoyed seeing him and hanging out.

It made the evening better 100 fold.

More on Vienna later.

Sighisoara

One of this hillside town's claims to fame is being the birthplace of Vlad Tepes, otherwise known as Dracula! The town has a medieval citadel with 11 surviving towers and bastions and is the only citadel in Southeast Europe where people lived within the walls. It all looks untouched and is a UNESCO site.

While there are elements of tourism here, it is definitely not as much a visited site like Brasov, and at times I felt like I had the entire old town to myself.

A man who worked in an old church pointed out a 13th century fresco that portrayed the Trinity--so it had three faces but looked like only one. I had never seen anything like that and apparently it was only recently discovered in 1996 since when the Lutherans took over the church they white washed all the walls.

The other impressive sight was the large clock tower overlooking the center square. It housed the city's history museum (and lacked any info about Vlad) and a wonderful panoramic view. The clock has old wooden figures representing the days of the week on one side of it as well. I can't remember ever seeing anything like that before--but I suppose that Germany, Austria, and Switzerland would have similar structures.

While I was climbing to the top of the tower it started to snow, perfecting the view and adding snow covered roofs to the picturesque view.

Small and rustic, Sighisoara was a great place to visit and somewhat off the beaten path.

Uncomfortable Train Ride #78, Brasov to Sighisoara, Romania

In an attempt to be culturally sensitive I have often kept some of the more awful moments of my PC service to myself-or to private conversations. As I am not a PCV serving in Romania, I don't feel the same obligation and as I am not a PCV anymore you can look forward to other such similar stories from Ukraine.

Not speaking a lick of the language has been very personally frustrating for me in Romania and was exacerbated by this particular experience. When I got on and found my seat, my compartment mate immediately attempted to strike up conversation. When I let him know that I understood nothing he communicated by winking constantly at me with a big toothless grin. He could have been 35-42 years old, it's hard to say. Several other older men joined us. After 1 departed this man proceeded to get my attention by whistling, making clicking sounds and using hand signals. When I would look over he'd wink and make a head motion indicating that we should leave the compartment. As often happened when I am uncomfortable, I smiled embarrassingly back at him.

This continued for a while and he further made motions that he and I should leave together and puckered his lips in a kissing form. He pointed to the old man next to him and indicated that we shouldn't tell him. I shook my head "no" and ignored him. When the old man went to the toilet he then repeated this. Frustrated and honestly scared, I told him sternly in Russian (because Russian sounds more harsh than English) "I don't understand. Enough." He sorta stopped, but the effect this had on me really affected me. By not knowing the simple basics of the language I felt pretty helpless. I couldn't explain to the old man what was happening--all I could do was look angry and say "nyet" to him in front of the old man.

I guess he felt inclined to behave in this way because he knew in a way that he could take advantage of the fact that I had no way of reprimanding him publicly. Or maybe he was just, well, insane?

Thankfully Sighisoara was a beautiful town and I was able to enjoy myself in the old part of town. But Idid book myself a first class ticket on the late night train back to Bucharest oping for better compartment mates.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

Brasov

I left Monday open to visit the actual town of Brasov, knowing that museums and such would be closed.

The city has several beautiful churches, the most famous being the Black Church--which I think is the largest gothic style church in Romania if not Southeast Europe. The churches were open and the St. Nicholas church had some paintings on the outside, something I don't think I've come across.

The town boasts the nicest square in all of Romania, flanked by Baroque style buildings. It also has a nice pedastrian street for shopping and eating. There is also a funicular that you can take up to the top of a mountain that overlooks the city, but as it was Monday, it was closed. It was also rainy, so climbing to the top was not an option I wanted to take, so in the afternoon I went back to the hostel and applied for a job and looked online for others--making good use of my time.

Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Bran and Rasov

I arrived late in the evening in Brasov, a mountain town in Romania that has tons to do in the area. One of the most visited places in Romania is Bran because it houses "Dracula's Castle," which, ironically, never was the home of Vlad, but instead was the summer home for Maria Theresa, the Queen of Romania and her daughter Ilena during the 1920s. Interestingly enough, Ilena was forced to leave Romania after being married off to an Austrian prince and after Romania fell to the Communists, she moved to Newton, Massachusetts (where I was an AmeriCorps*VISTA for two years) and was a regular housewife and princess to her second husband.

I was fortunate enough to run into a nice Swedish exchange student who was showing her family around the area and I felt better about tagging along with someone who knew the area and the bus routes.

Bran itself is not a big town, but there is a lot of touristy stuff to it, which if you know me, I enjoy. Sadly, there was not enough toursisty stuff for me, but what can you do?

The castle itself was quite romantic looking, with little turrets that look out over the mountains. Inside there is a collection of a lot of the royals belongings.

After hitting up the castle and checking out some of the booths, I saw that there was a "haunted Dracula castle" haunted house sort of thing. Since I had missed Halloween for three straight years, I decided to make it up to myself and ventured in... alone... It was quite fun and actually did scare me some. It was my own mini Spookyworld or Cedar Point!

Afterwards, at the bus stop I ran into the Swede and her family again and went with them to Rasov, another castle on the way back to Brasov, where I was staying for three nights.

This castle was a lot more impressive, reminding me a little bit of my experience at Kamenets Podilsky in Western Ukraine, mostly because this castle was built to protect the towns people from the attacking Turks and Tatars. It also resembled SPIŠSKÝ HRAD in Eastern Slovakia, if only because I had to hike up again up the side of a mountain, but this time I did so in better form.

Once inside the castle grounds you could partake in events like archery or watch donkeys eat grass. I did the latter, it was free.

The castle overlooks the small town of Rasov and has a wonderful view of the surrounding snow capped mountains. It was really a beautiful place and definitely a highlight for me.

Also, another highlight: in Bran I ate an American hot dog. It's been 2 years, people. It tasted so good.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Airports and waiting in airports and waiting in airports

At different points of my journey home I plan on sleeping at the airport to save money and time.

The first time doing this on this leg was on Friday night at the Vienna airport. Thankfully, it is very easy to get to the airport from Bratislava (you just have to wait under the Novy Most, the new bridge). I got there, went and ate a dinner that I could have spent on a hostel for another night, and along with another passenger on my flight that I met at the cafe, looked for places to sleep. You'd think that a big, bustling airport in Vienna would have a place for folks to just sit down for awhile. Nope. Maybe 6 chairs in total, and all occupied.

So, we just went up to the check-in counters and I brought out my sleeping bag and slept pretty well.

In the morning, all was set, but I noticed that the crowd waiting for the plane seemed a little surly. Once it was announced that the flight was delayed, things went from bad to worse. There was a lot of yelling (not in English) and whatnot and finally, after waiting 3 hours, we were given a free refreshment back at the airport cafe. There I ran into a native Romanian who works for the tourist industry who told me all about Romanian and what I should see. She also told me that the flights on Sky Europe were cancelled to Bucharest yesterday because of the weather.

That explained the angry people and frustration. As the morning went on, the Romanians got more and more feisty, yelling and asking what was going to happen. I inquired about changing my ticket to another location in Romania, as I did not want to loose the money I had on my reservation at a hostel in Brasov. The lady told me that maybe I should go somewhere "nicer" for my holiday, and suggested Barcelona, which only further upset the crowd of Romanians surrounding me. She later recounted her statement, saying that she meant "weather wise," not wanting to further offend the passengers. I responded that no, I didn't want to go to Barcelona, but Romania, which was met by small cheers from the gathered crowd looking for answers.

After waiting 5 hours (and being promised another refreshment that never came) we saw the crew go out and assumed that we would be boarding soon. It was during this time that the Romanian lady acted as a translator to me, telling me all the things that the Romanians were saying the Austrian Sky Europe team. "I just want to go home and eat my food, your McDonald's food and wieners are awful," was one translation. It was quite humorous, because obviously they didn't know what the heck they were saying.

Finally up in the air everything went fine. We arrived around 2pm to Bucharest and when I finally made it through immigration, I noticed that all the bags had been picked up. And mine was not there. Panic struck in. My tb meds were in that bag, I only had a week supply on me. After much walking around the tiny airport I found someone who could "help" me by just saying, "yeah, they will send it on another flight at 9 tonight, although, all those flights yesterday were cancelled."

After mooping around the airport for an hour, I decided to try and at least see a bit of Bucharest. It proved to be too complicated for my little mind, and I did not see or do much of anything for the all of 1 hour total that I was there. I pretty much gave up and blew a ton of money on getting a cab back to the airport (the public transit was a nightmare to the airport, being forced off at some random stop with packs of stray dogs). I never thought that I'd ever miss Kyiv, but that day, I did.

What I did see of Bucharest was huge HUGE Communist style buildings that would have made Stalin proud. Because I speak no Romanian I felt completely unable to negotiate my way around. After living two years speaking baby talk Russian, I at least know that I can understand things like directions, prices, and basics. In Romanian, I know that "da" means yes and "merci" means thank you. That's it.

After getting back to the airport I waited and waited longer and chatted with strangers about various things. An Austrian who gave me a history lesson, a Bulgarian who was interested that an American spoke Russian, a strange woman who told some tale of not knowing where her husband is and wanting to be reconnected with him and he has all her papers, etc (I think that she was Roma, and I'll save my thoughts on that for another time, but any PCV can complete my thoughts on that verbatim).

Finally, something showed up on the board that read "Opetani" or something like that. I asked those around me "what does that mean?" No one spoke English. I then went to my baggage claim acquaintance and asked him. "Oh, that's the other airport. The flight must be going there instead." He then told me that I'd still have to wait because he didn't know if my bag would be on that flight. When 10 pm arrived, I asked if he heard anything, and he said no, that he hadn't and that it could be another hour.

In my expensive trip from the city to the airport I had found a taxi driver who read me the schedule and I knew that there were two trains before midnight to Brasov, so baggage claim dude encouraged me just to go straight to the other airport and he even called a cab for me (after I asked him to do it, several times).

There, I was not allowed behind glass doors and instead had some young security guard call the phone on the wall and let it ring endlessly while he went back to his task of "crowd control" at the arrivals area. Finally, someone answered some line and I was accompanied back to pick up my bag, which was sitting amongst other lost bags.

I then ran out of the area and haggled with taxi drivers, never my favorite pastime. Again, getting an extremely expensive fare, I made it to Gara du Nord, but not before being offered the taxi driver's services go all the way to Brasov (200 Romanian lei, if you are interested). Instead, I opted to take the train (38 Romanian lei) and arrived exhausted at the train station in Brasov at 2am and hired yet another expensive cab to take me to the hostel and woke up another exhausted woman who let me to a room full of mattresses on the floor with people under some blankets. "Don't wake anyone up, they'll kill me!" she repeated. As silently as possible, I took off all my belongings, crawled under the blanket, and counted my lucky stars that I did finally arrive at my intended destination, just a mere 11 hours later than scheduled.

"Partyslava"

I'll be honest.

I didn't expect much from Bratislava.

When I arrived and looked around me I saw a confusing swell of big ugly block buildings (what? Am I in some ugly old suburb of Kyiv?), tram ways, trolley buses, and so on.

But it was the evening, and I had had a lot of help in carrying my huge bags around in a hurried manner.

When I woke up the next morning and headed out to view the center, I found a quite nice center. The old part of Bratislava is rather small, but well preserved and full of a lot of charm. I kept going straight to the castle, which is not as impressive as others that I have seen, and the National Slovak Museum which lies inside is also pretty sparse. After that I went to Primate's Palace specifically to see this Mirror Hall where Napoleon did something or other (I am awful at reading and remembering anything, I simply look at names, see if it might be pretty, and head on in) but it was closed for the morning--some city council session. The coat check woman told me come back at 14:00 and it would be open. But then it was 11:30 and I had exhausted pretty much everything I wanted to do in Bratislava. (I am learning that maybe sleeping in would not be such a crime...) So I went to eat their national dish that was recommended to me by PC staff. It is some dumplings with some strong melted cheese in the center and some bacon. Not bad. Really, really filling.

It was Thanksgiving, after all, so a glutton I needed to be, so after more meandering the streets I finished off with a feast at KFC, which really was the closest to a Thanksgiving meal I could get there.

The next day all the Christmas stalls in the main squares opened up and well, it was beginning to look like a lot like Christmas. It made me appreciate the city in a whole new way and really look forward to coming back earlier than I had anticipated before catching my flight to Dublin, just to taste Medovina (honey-spiced wine) and eat more good cheap food from the streets.

Levoca, Slovakia

Last time through Slovakia in September there was not enough time to go to Levoca, a town that basically every guide book raves about, so I made sure that I had time to do it this time.

I was excited to see this "cute," "authentic" Slovakian town.

Within 10 minutes I had walked pretty much all over the old part of town and found myself.... underwhelmed.

What the guide books suggest viewing is the interior of the old church there, where you can view some very beautiful alter pieces that adorn the back of the 100 Slovak Kruna. It was made by some master Slovakian artist back in the day, and you know, if something appears on money, it's usually worth seeing.

I went to the church and saw that the front was being reconstructed, but looked like it was still open, so I walked across the street to buy an entrance ticket. It was there that I learned that they would not open up the church for one person. This, I found, not only disappointing, but also quite against the teachings of Christ.

So, with one less thing to do, I walked around again for another 10 minutes before finding a nice little cafe to have a small lunch in.

After that, I walked around again for 10 minutes and decided to just go to the internet cafe and write back home before the bus headed back to Kosice.

Later, when I got back to Kosice, and further on to Bratislava, I retrospectively really grew to like the place. It's cozy, cute, and would be a nice place to spend a lazy weekend, if you had things like money or company to share conversations with.

I am sure that it is not the be all and end all that the guide books make it out to be, but I am certain that if I ever have the chance that I will return, but next time I'll bring along some friends so I'll actually get a chance to see inside of the church.

Friday, November 23, 2007

My Coordinator and I



Here is a picture of my coordinator and I in our office area on the last day that I taught. I was very lucky in getting a great person to help me with my service.

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Did you know Satan is Slovakian?

Well, he is. And he plays for the Islanders now.

In a train full of older gentleman heading to Bratislava, only one topic seemed to engage them more than any other: hockey.

Did you know that basically every great hockey player is Slovakian? And that the mention of "Philadelphia" brings an automatic response of "Flyers!" And even in one case, the man on the train brought down his bag and showed me a much worn Flyers hat.

Hockey, hockey, hockey. It's fantastic.

Land of the Happy Slavs

People who travel to the former Soviet Union almost always comment on the lack of customer service that exists there. It could be falsely assumed that Russians and Ukrainians are just a rude lot of people--but if you have been guests in their homes you know this is not the case. Warm and giving, they are incredibly hospitable, friendly, and caring to a fault.

Slovaks are like that, but ALL the time, which only leads me to believe that the poor customer service is the result of the Soviet influence, which also means that it can be reversed in time.

I have found time and time again people going out of their way to help me in Slovakia. This was also true when I traveled here with a friend in September. We had people literally leave their job posts to make sure that we got headed into the right direction. This happened again with me arriving in Kosice to find that basically every place in town was full. A young girl who spoke no English or Russian called a pension for me and then helped me haul my large suitcase down the stairs and got me into a cab.

Then a man on the train to Bratislava found out that I spoke Russian and proceeded to point out various things to me along the way and had other people doing the same, pointing out castles and such. When we arrived at the station, he carried my large bag all over the place and made sure that I got it into storage and then put me on the correct tram. Certainly saved me a lot of time, since I would have had a hard time figuring all of that out.

There have been other small exchanges along the same vein with people just going out of their way to help in some small way. It has made for a very pleasant trip here indeed!

Wednesday, November 21, 2007

Leaving Ukraine

The journey from Christa's site to the border of Ukraine is a long one and involved a two hour "lay over" in the early a.m. at a small train station that may as well be in the middle of nowhere.

I only had two minutes to find my wagon (00, which I had never even heard of before) and yank up all of my precious belongings, too much for myself to carry, let alone haul into a train in under 2 minutes.

Wanting to be prepared, I inquired at the info window as to which track the train would be on. "Ya ne rozeemeyoo" she said, Ukrainian for "I don't understand." She then asked if I understood Ukrainian because she does not understand Russian, something I find incredibly hard to believe considering she probably watched "Not born beautiful" religiously like everyone else several years ago. I told her that I understood a little Ukrainian and asked again about the "kolee" or "peron" or track number. She said she wouldn't know till closer to the hour. So I waited. And approached her several more times. After deciding she is useless, I took my things, and went outside for the announcement. I understood the track number, but no idea where this "00" wagon would be. I asked some lady also waiting and she kept asking "what wagon number?" making up numbers "is it 6? Is it 11?" I kept repeating "nul nul." She even took my ticket and repeated "11?" "Nyet, nul nul!" Finally she made a correction in my pronuncation and made two zeroes with her hands in the air. "I don't know," she responded. "We will wait and see."

By then the train was pulling in and she grabbed my bag and started running with me towards the wagons whipping by--which was quite a feat considering the inches of ice below our feet. When the train stopped, she asked some man who said it was the restaurant wagon, which fortunately happened to be the next one. I constantly mix up "next" and "last" in Russian and believed that I had a long way to run, but said screw it and hopped on the next (and correct) wagon.

After sleeping as long as I could, our train arrived at Uzhgorod and I promptly stored my bags and went across the street to buy a ticket for the daily 16:20 bus to Kosice.

Well. That daily 16:20 bus to Kosice does not run on Mondays. Facing the prospect of spending another day in Ukraine, I laughed to myself at the irony. And then I went back to the train station. They wrote down the town name "Tchop" and 19:20. I asked if I could buy the ticket now, but the booming oblast center of Zarkarpatska does not have an international ticket window. They gave me the time for the electrichka, but I wanted to get there ASAP and took the next train heading east.

At Tchop, I found the international ticket window (#9) and the woman told me to come back later, it was lunch time. Storing my bags for the second time that day, I decided to treat myself also at a nice cafe with a hot bowl of borsch and a cutletta po-kyievski. I then went back to the ticket window, but she was on a technical break, so I hit up the Internet cafe to check out my birthday greetings.

After an hour, I again went back to the window and she said she would not sell them till 6 o'clock. It was 5:20. Bored out of my mind, I went next door to the nicer "precity" train station and sat in a seat for 10 or 15 minutes. I then bought water, a Snickers bar, and gum for my journey. I made some phone calls. Then, according to my watch it was 6 o'clock.

I went to the woman to now buy my ticket--and she said I was still too early, this time by 5 minutes. I waited the length of time then bought the ticket and we chatted. I told her it was my last day in Ukraine after 2 years. "Like it?" she asked. I answered the affirmative. My life in Ukraine has been good.

I then had to wait another hour for the customs hall. 15 minutes before hand, I went downstairs to collect my bags, but the room was completely locked up. The room, by the way, looks like some sort of cemented decaying bomb shelter and is completely deserted. I now start freaking out.

I ran upstairs to talk to the woman and she says to go to the info window, which was the first one I checked out but the lady had gone. She told me to just go back, that she'd be back. I wait several minutes and some cleaning ladies saw me--the panic on my face. They chatted for a period of a few minutes, deciding who will help me and I ran downstairs. The man then came out of some other underground room and unlocked the door for me and carried my heavy bag up the stairs. I explained to him also it was my last day in Ukraine.

I then wait in customs. An older man asks me important questions. "What's in the bags?" "Ukrainian souvenirs" "Painting?" "uh...yes." "What kind of painting, big, new?" "No, yes." "Is it an oil painting?" At this point I decided to plead ignorance. The last thing I want is for the customs guy to look through my bag and decide what has worth and what doesn't. "It's a present. My friend made it." (This is true.) He keeps asking me about oil and paper. I don't know what he is getting at. I make like I am going to get it out, but he waves me on. Easy.

As my passport was being stamped for the last time out of Ukraine, I started to cry.

In a lot of ways that last leg of my journey could be a theme for my service. Nothing happens as expected, or in the time frame assumed, but it all works out ok in the end anyway and you're happier for it.

Ukraine has made me a better person as a result--more flexible, patient, and able to recognize and appreciate things.

Paka Ukraine, I will miss you and think of you often.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Birthday

Thanks to those of you who wrote and wished me a happy birthday.

It was a good one, spending it with my beautiful linkmate, Christa, and her husband, Pasha in their lovely home and city.

Christa and I baked a cake and ate mashed potatoes. It was quiet, comfy, and just what I needed before embarking on my journey.

On Sunday we went to his father's house for a nice spread and to fill me up before catching the train to Uzhgorod, where I was hoping to leave Ukraine for the last time. Both of them were so kind as to see me off to the train station and to watch me as I left.

As the train pulled away and tears lined my eyes, I felt so fortunate to have created such strong bonds here in Ukraine with so many unique, loving, and giving people, both Ukrainian and American.

Saturday, November 17, 2007

One More Random Pic from Istanbul



This "random" shot is of my linkmate Christa, my clustermate Taya and I.

More Random Pics from Istanbul

Random Pics from Istanbul


My linkmate (who is sitting next to me) gave me a great CD full of memories from our last two years--pictures from training, COS, her wedding, and our trip to Istanbul. I am randomly putting up one... We will see what goes up....

Leaving Site

As per usual here in Ukraine, nothing went according to plans, but it all ended up okay in the end.

All packages were mailed, rooms were cleaned, and trains were caught, but not without a few snags and plenty of tears.

I did fail to make the goodbye rounds around the community as I had wanted, but I did give flowers to the post office lady, who has been like a ray of sunshine in an otherwise dark and thunderous world (at least at the central post office).

My friend was so upset when she went to work that her boss told her to go home, so she came over and helped me clean up my apartment. Without her, I don't know if I would have been able to do it all.

My bags are entirely too heavy, but souvenirs are hard to part with, so I don't know what will happen or give along the way.

My coordinator came to pick me up and my land lady with her family came to collect the keys. The taxi was called, the men carried my suitcase and bags and loaded me into the taxi. My friend held my hand as I broke down in the backseat, before my ever humorous coordinator said, "Don't cry Molly, I think that you will catch your train after all."

6 or 7 of my students came out to see me off as well. I was very touched. Some of them gave me final gifts and I wept as I hugged each of them goodbye.

As I had thought, the hardest part about leaving was saying goodbye to all the people who have been like a family to me in these past 2 years. I will miss them all so much and am so thankful to have been placed at a wonderful site.

Nikolaev, I will miss you. You will always be my home away from home.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Last Night in N---

For anyone who is not a Morrissey fan, I must apologize, but I do love me the Moz. For months I have envisioned listening to this song on my last night here at my site, and that night is finally here.

Not as envisioned, and thankfully so, I have good company with me to enjoy my last evening.

So, not everything needs to be taken literally, as I was never driven home in a police van, but still...it seems quite fitting for my time, place and frame of mind...and the strange pills, they are the tb meds.

Late Night, Maudlin Street

Winter coming
Winter push on
(push on)
Oh, winter push on

Winter is so long
Winter moves on

The last night on Maudlin Street
Goodbye house, goodbye stairs
I was born here
And I was raised here, and
...I took some stick here

Love at first sight
It may sound trite
But it's true, you know
I could list the detail
Of everything you ever wore or said
Or how you stood the day
As we spent the last night
On Maudlin Street
"Goodbye house, forever!"
I never stole a happy hour
Around here

Where the world's ugliest boy
Became what you see
Here I am - the ugliest man
Oh, the last night on Maudlin Street
Truly I do love you
Oh, truly I do love you

When I sleep
With that picture of you framed beside my bed
Oh, it's childish and it's silly
But I think it's you in my room, by the bed
(...yes, I told you it was silly...)

And I know
I took strange pills
But I never meant to hurt you
Oh, truly I love you
Came home late one night
Everyone had gone to bed
But, you know
No-one stays up for you
I had sixteen stitches
All around my head

Oh, the last bus I missed to Maudlin Street
So he drove me home in the Van
Complaining, "Women only like me for my mind..."
Don't leave your torch behind
A powercut ahead; 1972, you know

And so we crept through the park
No, I cannot steal a pair of jeans off a clothesline
For you
But you ... without clothes
Oh, I could not keep a straight face
Me - without clothes ?
Well, a nation turns its back and gags...
I'm packed

I am moving house
A half-life disappears today
With "every hag waves me on"
(secretly wishing me gone)
Well, I will be soon
Ooh, I will be soon
I will be soon
I will be soon
Will be soon, I will be soon
Mmm ... I will be soon, I will be soon

There were bad times on Maudlin Street
They took you away in a police car
Inspector - don't you know ?
Don't you care ?
Don't you know - about Love ?

Your gran died
And your mother died
On Maudlin Street
In pain, and ashamed
With never time to say
those special things ... oh
I took the key from Maudlin Street
Well, it's only bricks and mortar !
Oh, oh, truly I love you
Oh, wherever you are
Wherever you are
Wherever you are
I hope you're singing now
Oh, I do hope
I hope you're singing now

Monday, November 12, 2007

Confounded

I leave my site on Wednesday night.

Since this summer I have been looking forward to this moment. Now that it is here, I find that I am in no way ready to say goodbye to the place that has become my home. Friday was my last day of classes at the University and involved me crying at different points in time and trying to express what my students have meant to me and failing often quite miserably or in one case, coming across rather cold because I just had nothing left to say.

My trivia game went over quite well though, as I had a bunch of extra things from the apartment in a bag and asked questions about myself and the student with the correct answer would pull something out of the bag and have a nice little memento from their American teacher. My favorite question involved asking my age, since no student got it right on the first try and it would evolve into a lowering of the prior mentioned age. It got as low as 22. Was as high as 31 in one class though...Hmm.. The best gift seemed to be a Merriam Webster dictionary that a boy pulled out who did not come to class often. I could see the girls eyeing it jealously as they had put more into my classes, but hey, a prize is a prize. He looked at it the rest of class, looking through it and somehow mezmerized. At the end of the class he asked if it came all the way from Pennsylvania. "Nope, it came from another PCV before me. It's probably from Hawaii." "Hawaii," he repeated, his eyes getting even bigger. No doubt that he'll keep that dictionary for some time to come.

Part of the reason leaving the university has been so difficult is because for months I have been operating under the assumption that they would be getting a replacement, another PCV to take over and the students would have another native speaker. I was excited for them and glad that the university wanted to continue working with the program. Then the university found out who the new volunteer would be, and turned Peace Corps down without meeting the new volunteer. It left me in an awkward position, on one hand understanding the director's decision and the other teachers' concerns, yet the students seemed so bummed to not be getting another PCV. It also threw a hitch into some of the outgoing speeches I was going to make and lessening some of the intense emotions that come with leaving a site. But what can you do?

So, I move onto cleaning and getting rid of stuff. Because of some fericous storms hitting the area I have been crippled in getting a lot of things done. I need to get money out of an atm--none work. I need to mail boxes home--the lights go out at the post office. Both of these things involve taking a lot of time to either just wait or search for a place that does work, so not all tasks that were supposed to be completed on Sunday are done now on Monday night. As I talked to a local PCV on Sunday afternoon--I don't know why I am surprised. After two years of living in Ukraine, what made me think that anything would go according to plans?

I still have one more meeting with English clubs and the final goodbye at the train station. Students are promising to show up. We'll see who does. It's going to be a sad one indeed, and I invite people to call me after 7:30pm my time to remind me that there is a life on the other side of the pond. It's just so sad to leave all my dear friends, especially when everything back in America seems so uncertain.

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