Well the most amazing thing happened this past week. I went to a real Ukrainian camp. My boss invited me to go to camp for 3 days when I first started working. He’d pick up the calendar, point to the dates, and say ‘CAMP’, ‘understand’? (This is how my boss communicates with me for the most part… he says one word in Russian, then says ‘understand’… which I do, I understand what the word means, but without at context is doesn’t mean that much). So this happened a few times over the past weeks so that he made sure that I understood that I was doing something August 5th through the 7th.
Of course, I wanted more information, so at some point, I asked him where the camp was. He pulled up a map of Kharkivska oblast and pointed somewhere east of Kharkiv. ‘There, that’s where it is, understand’? Fine, and then I wanted to know what kind of camp it was. ‘HIV/AIDS, training, understand’? So I had the bare minimum for what I could expect. I asked him what I should bring and he told me, nothing… and then, he didn’t know. And then, I got more specific. Do I need a sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towel? Well sleeping bag, no, sheets, no, pillow, no… but towel, yes. Okay fine. So armed with this bit of knowledge I was supposedly prepared for camp.
The morning we were supposed to leave I met him in the center by the administration building. At a certain point, he said, Amy let’s go, so I got in the car and we started driving. My boss put on his seatbelt. This is a novelty in Ukraine. People just don’t wear seatbelts. When I get in the front seat its automatic, I put on my seatbelt. But in Ukraine, this is offensive. It says to the driver that you don’t trust them. My boss asked me at some point, why I put it on, I explained that it was a reflex, automatic. In the US, it’s the law, so I don’t even think about it. That time, he put his on in solidarity. This time, I was confused momentarily, but then as we were driving a driver approaching us in the opposite direction had crossed his arm across his chest and was tapping the opposite shoulder. I came to learn that that gesture means cops.
So my boss said, Amy, cops, da? I said it, and he tried to match my pronunciation. Cops. Then I said, or you can say ‘Po-Po’. Po-Po is slang for cops. So he said it and laughed, and said it again and I laughed because when he said it, it sounded more like Poo-Poo. But eventually, he got it. Then for the gusto, I said, ‘Po-Po in da hawz’. And that confused him because he understood the word house, but didn’t understand because we were outside in a car. So I explained that that meant that there were Po-Po around and I gestured around with my hand. And he got it. So for a few minutes he repeated, Po-Po in the house. This is something I wish I got on videotape.
Our drive to the camp, was scenic and long. Logistically speaking, the camp wasn’t that far from Balakleya, but the roads are so crappy that it takes double and triple the time that it would take to drive anywhere in the states. After almost 2 hours we made it. When we got there my boss greeted his friends and pointed out his boss, but then told me to go walk around the lake for a couple of hours. He would call me when he was ready. Uh okay. This was fine, but it was HOT and my water was locked in the trunk of his car at his suggestion. Before parting, I demanded the water and that he show me where the toilet was. He showed me the toilet and explained that each dorm had one, but we didn’t get my water. I ended up sitting by the lake and reading my book.
After awhile, I went back up and looked for him because I was thirsty. Ukrainians, actually don’t drink that much water, so they don’t understand why Americans need to drink lots of it. I needed my water. I got my water, deposited my valuables in his trunk, got my bags and we set out for my room. I got my own room, it had 5 beds in it. My door didn’t close, but eventually, a handyman came around and fixed the lock and gave me a key. Prior, I jammed a Rolling Stone magazine in the jam to keep the door closed. Ah Ukraine.
With my prior prompting, after lunch he sat me down with his schedule and told me the important things like, when to eat and when the trainings were to take place and that there was an opening ceremony that night that I needed to go to before dinner, and that after dark there was a discotheque. This discotheque seems to be a common theme at Ukrainian camps. Some guy with a sound system blares techno and the kids dance. So for a couple of hours I was free, so I swam for a bit then went to my room to relax and read and charge my phone. My boss came in shortly after bearing a light blue t-shirt, a ball cap, a handkerchief, a small pouch and a pen and pad all with the social organizations logo on them. Camp schwag, very nice. He explained that I was to wear this to the opening ceremony. Fair enough. He left and came back a half an hour later and took the handkerchief back and explained something about the ceremony and tying it around my neck. Okay.
I then went to some trainings and finally settled on one that was outside in one of the camp’s gazebos. The kids were interested and the trainer was really energetic, so even though I really couldn’t understand what was going on, it was amusing to watch. The training seemed to wrap up when another lady came by and explained that the kids had to go and pick up their t-shirts and ball caps for the ceremony. So, I went for another swim and headed back to my room and read for a bit since the ceremony wasn’t for another hour.
When it came to be around time for the ceremony, I ventured out and was welcomed by a sea of people dressed in the same uniform of the light blue t-shirt, caps, etc. It made me think of the Smurfs. I headed to the patio to meet my boss and we ended up standing around for a bit waiting. Then the sound system cued up, the techno music started and the kids in 3 lines each of single-file lines started marching onto the patio. They marched on, the lady with the microphone told them they looked like crap (or so I imagined she said, based on the tone and volume of her voice) and they filed off the patio. Cue the music, they did it again, and then again, filed off the patio. I was confused so I asked my boss if it was over, and he said no, that this was an exercise in repetition. Ah okay.
So a few more ‘repetitions’, the kids in teams of twenty or so recited something for the crowd in a very cheerleader kind of way, and then there were introductions, like at an awards show. Except in this case, it was the higher ups in the Kharkiv Oblast Government that lead the social services organization. The lady with the microphone gave an introduction and the person would saunter across the patio and everyone would clap. It was a bit surreal.
Towards the end of the ceremony, they came to the part where they were honoring their guests that were visiting the camp. So each person who was honored was asked to come forward and stand in a line. In Ukraine, when people make speeches they are, let’s say, extremely long-winded. It’s like that with toasts too. So my mind tends to wander, especially since I only understand 2 out of every 5 words and then don’t always understand how it all fits together in a sentence. But at a certain point, I clued in. The last honoree was me! My boss cleverly snapped my photo at the exact moment when I realized that they were talking about a volunteer from the United States, who was in Ukraine with the Peace Corps. The look on my face in the photo is absolutely classic. It can only be described as my ‘What the Fuck?’ Face. I joined the people in line and one of the kids was assigned to present me with a small gift and tie the handkerchief around my neck, scout style. This whole ceremony was AWESOME, so Ukraine. Then at the end of the ceremony the kids filed off to blaring techno music. I went directly to my room and took off my blue get-up because honestly, that t-shirt was super hot.
I then ambled around waiting for dinner to start, but in so doing was scooped up by the Secretary of something or other and he told me that I was supposed to be in the staff room for a celebration. My boss told me nothing of the sort, but maybe I missed the invitation when I scooted to change my clothes. In the room the table was lined with wine, cognac, beer, kvas (fermented black bread drink), juice and water, plus a whole bunch of Ukrainian drinking snacks like break, cheese and sausages, olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce (that might have been garnish). The Secretary of so and so demanded that I sit next to him and drink. My boss, kept saying Amy, Beer, Amy, Beer, so guess what I drank?
There were a lot of long-winded toasts, I felt like it was my place to put my two cents in on that, so I stood up and said ‘May I?’ in Russian. Then said, ‘Rock and Roll’, understand? Heads nodded. And then I said Ukraine, understand? And there was a chorus of ‘Da’s. And then I said, ‘Ukraine ROCKS!’ and there was some mumbling and then someone yelled out, ‘To Ukraine!’ in Russian so it went over well. I was being associated with Rock and Roll to begin with because there were a few people at the table who were fans of Woodstock, the music festival. So thanks to the old last name, I get some instant recognition, but then confusion when I explain that no, I wasn’t born at, nor conceived at Woodstock.
I made friends with two hip gals at the table by joining them when they went out for a smoke break. (In case you were wondering, I did not partake). They told me that they had just returned from a concert in Poland, like Woodstock, called the Heart to Heart festival. Then they wanted to take picture for Facebook. Later when we went back the party seemingly had dispersed so I loaded some water, the rest of a bottle of red wine and some cognac into my bag and we high-tailed it out of there after one of the girls grabbed some of the food. At this point, I had started doing shots of cognac with them and I was feeling really good. And they thought it was awesome that I smuggled the booze out in my bag. They told me that was very Ukrainian. I told them, that was very Amy. We went back to their room and continued to drink, then we headed off to the discotheque where we shook our money makers like crazy, probably to the embarrassment of all the kids.
Let’s just say, I had fun that night, but the next day, was just a tad painful. This is the second time I have sincerely tried to drink with Ukrainians. Amy, learn your lesson. You are not built for that crap. Stick with your red wine and gin and tonics, refrain from the vodka and cognac shots… or shots of anything for that matter. You will thank me for this bit of advice later.
I went to the second half of the training with the energetic trainer. The kids played some fun team-building games that I have and haven’t seen before. At the end, they handed out certificates to the kids for all their efforts. And oddly enough, despite the fact that I just sat and watched, I got a certificate too (certificates after events are also very Ukrainian). After the training, I swam a bit with the other adults. There was a huge picnic spread of stuff to pick on, but they were demanding I do shots. Nope, No, No Way, Not Again. Maybe they thought I was rude for refusing, but there was no way I could do that again. After lunch, I snuck to my room and took at nap.
After dinner there was a talent show that was absolutely amazing. The kids sang, and did choreographed dance sequences to techno music. It was unbelievable. I had to keep pinching myself, because it was so obvious that I was in Ukraine. There is even a Ukrainian version of what looked like the Macarena! The kicker for me though was a choreographed karate fight scene where one kid was dressed in a black Gei and the other in a white Gei and the song Final Countdown was playing as they fought. It was awesome. I figured nothing could top that, so I snuck off and went to bed early before anyone could rope me into another night of crazy drinking.
The next day we had breakfast and hit the road early. My boss asked me, ‘You went to bed early last night didn’t you’? Yep, I did. How did you sleep, OTLEECHNA (means super). I asked him how he slept and he said ploe-ha (horrible). He told me he wanted sleep badly. I think he was jealous that I snuck off and went to bed early. We drove the two hours home, I got home, got inside, and locked my door. Dropped my stuff and tried to head out the door to make it to the Post Office to pick up my packages and my key was stuck in the door. Lame. So I grabbed my bag and said a little prayer to the gods and left my key in the door and went to the store and picked up my packages. I called my boss when I got back and he came right over despite the fact that I had just woken him up. Then he turned the key and it came right out. I screamed, ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ and we both laughed. He didn’t quite understand so he made me say ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ over and over again. I explained that I had no idea how to say it in Russian. But then we laughed again and he left.
What a great Ukrainian adventure.
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
The Final Countdown and other Amazing Adventures
Well the most amazing thing happened this past week. I went to a real Ukrainian camp. My boss invited me to go to camp for 3 days when I first started working. He’d pick up the calendar, point to the dates, and say ‘CAMP’, ‘understand’? (This is how my boss communicates with me for the most part… he says one word in Russian, then says ‘understand’… which I do, I understand what the word means, but without at context is doesn’t mean that much). So this happened a few times over the past weeks so that he made sure that I understood that I was doing something August 5th through the 7th.
Of course, I wanted more information, so at some point, I asked him where the camp was. He pulled up a map of Kharkivska oblast and pointed somewhere east of Kharkiv. ‘There, that’s where it is, understand’? Fine, and then I wanted to know what kind of camp it was. ‘HIV/AIDS, training, understand’? So I had the bare minimum for what I could expect. I asked him what I should bring and he told me, nothing… and then, he didn’t know. And then, I got more specific. Do I need a sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towel? Well sleeping bag, no, sheets, no, pillow, no… but towel, yes. Okay fine. So armed with this bit of knowledge I was supposedly prepared for camp.
The morning we were supposed to leave I met him in the center by the administration building. At a certain point, he said, Amy let’s go, so I got in the car and we started driving. My boss put on his seatbelt. This is a novelty in Ukraine. People just don’t wear seatbelts. When I get in the front seat its automatic, I put on my seatbelt. But in Ukraine, this is offensive. It says to the driver that you don’t trust them. My boss asked me at some point, why I put it on, I explained that it was a reflex, automatic. In the US, it’s the law, so I don’t even think about it. That time, he put his on in solidarity. This time, I was confused momentarily, but then as we were driving a driver approaching us in the opposite direction had crossed his arm across his chest and was tapping the opposite shoulder. I came to learn that that gesture means cops.
So my boss said, Amy, cops, da? I said it, and he tried to match my pronunciation. Cops. Then I said, or you can say ‘Po-Po’. Po-Po is slang for cops. So he said it and laughed, and said it again and I laughed because when he said it, it sounded more like Poo-Poo. But eventually, he got it. Then for the gusto, I said, ‘Po-Po in da hawz’. And that confused him because he understood the word house, but didn’t understand because we were outside in a car. So I explained that that meant that there were Po-Po around and I gestured around with my hand. And he got it. So for a few minutes he repeated, Po-Po in the house. This is something I wish I got on videotape.
Our drive to the camp, was scenic and long. Logistically speaking, the camp wasn’t that far from Balakleya, but the roads are so crappy that it takes double and triple the time that it would take to drive anywhere in the states. After almost 2 hours we made it. When we got there my boss greeted his friends and pointed out his boss, but then told me to go walk around the lake for a couple of hours. He would call me when he was ready. Uh okay. This was fine, but it was HOT and my water was locked in the trunk of his car at his suggestion. Before parting, I demanded the water and that he show me where the toilet was. He showed me the toilet and explained that each dorm had one, but we didn’t get my water. I ended up sitting by the lake and reading my book.
After awhile, I went back up and looked for him because I was thirsty. Ukrainians, actually don’t drink that much water, so they don’t understand why Americans need to drink lots of it. I needed my water. I got my water, deposited my valuables in his trunk, got my bags and we set out for my room. I got my own room, it had 5 beds in it. My door didn’t close, but eventually, a handyman came around and fixed the lock and gave me a key. Prior, I jammed a Rolling Stone magazine in the jam to keep the door closed. Ah Ukraine.
With my prior prompting, after lunch he sat me down with his schedule and told me the important things like, when to eat and when the trainings were to take place and that there was an opening ceremony that night that I needed to go to before dinner, and that after dark there was a discotheque. This discotheque seems to be a common theme at Ukrainian camps. Some guy with a sound system blares techno and the kids dance. So for a couple of hours I was free, so I swam for a bit then went to my room to relax and read and charge my phone. My boss came in shortly after bearing a light blue t-shirt, a ball cap, a handkerchief, a small pouch and a pen and pad all with the social organizations logo on them. Camp schwag, very nice. He explained that I was to wear this to the opening ceremony. Fair enough. He left and came back a half an hour later and took the handkerchief back and explained something about the ceremony and tying it around my neck. Okay.
I then went to some trainings and finally settled on one that was outside in one of the camp’s gazebos. The kids were interested and the trainer was really energetic, so even though I really couldn’t understand what was going on, it was amusing to watch. The training seemed to wrap up when another lady came by and explained that the kids had to go and pick up their t-shirts and ball caps for the ceremony. So, I went for another swim and headed back to my room and read for a bit since the ceremony wasn’t for another hour.
When it came to be around time for the ceremony, I ventured out and was welcomed by a sea of people dressed in the same uniform of the light blue t-shirt, caps, etc. It made me think of the Smurfs. I headed to the patio to meet my boss and we ended up standing around for a bit waiting. Then the sound system cued up, the techno music started and the kids in 3 lines each of single-file lines started marching onto the patio. They marched on, the lady with the microphone told them they looked like crap (or so I imagined she said, based on the tone and volume of her voice) and they filed off the patio. Cue the music, they did it again, and then again, filed off the patio. I was confused so I asked my boss if it was over, and he said no, that this was an exercise in repetition. Ah okay.
So a few more ‘repetitions’, the kids in teams of twenty or so recited something for the crowd in a very cheerleader kind of way, and then there were introductions, like at an awards show. Except in this case, it was the higher ups in the Kharkiv Oblast Government that lead the social services organization. The lady with the microphone gave an introduction and the person would saunter across the patio and everyone would clap. It was a bit surreal.
Towards the end of the ceremony, they came to the part where they were honoring their guests that were visiting the camp. So each person who was honored was asked to come forward and stand in a line. In Ukraine, when people make speeches they are, let’s say, extremely long-winded. It’s like that with toasts too. So my mind tends to wander, especially since I only understand 2 out of every 5 words and then don’t always understand how it all fits together in a sentence. But at a certain point, I clued in. The last honoree was me! My boss cleverly snapped my photo at the exact moment when I realized that they were talking about a volunteer from the United States, who was in Ukraine with the Peace Corps. The look on my face in the photo is absolutely classic. It can only be described as my ‘What the Fuck?’ Face. I joined the people in line and one of the kids was assigned to present me with a small gift and tie the handkerchief around my neck, scout style. This whole ceremony was AWESOME, so Ukraine. Then at the end of the ceremony the kids filed off to blaring techno music. I went directly to my room and took off my blue get-up because honestly, that t-shirt was super hot.
I then ambled around waiting for dinner to start, but in so doing was scooped up by the Secretary of something or other and he told me that I was supposed to be in the staff room for a celebration. My boss told me nothing of the sort, but maybe I missed the invitation when I scooted to change my clothes. In the room the table was lined with wine, cognac, beer, kvas (fermented black bread drink), juice and water, plus a whole bunch of Ukrainian drinking snacks like break, cheese and sausages, olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce (that might have been garnish). The Secretary of so and so demanded that I sit next to him and drink. My boss, kept saying Amy, Beer, Amy, Beer, so guess what I drank?
There were a lot of long-winded toasts, I felt like it was my place to put my two cents in on that, so I stood up and said ‘May I?’ in Russian. Then said, ‘Rock and Roll’, understand? Heads nodded. And then I said Ukraine, understand? And there was a chorus of ‘Da’s. And then I said, ‘Ukraine ROCKS!’ and there was some mumbling and then someone yelled out, ‘To Ukraine!’ in Russian so it went over well. I was being associated with Rock and Roll to begin with because there were a few people at the table who were fans of Woodstock, the music festival. So thanks to the old last name, I get some instant recognition, but then confusion when I explain that no, I wasn’t born at, nor conceived at Woodstock.
I made friends with two hip gals at the table by joining them when they went out for a smoke break. (In case you were wondering, I did not partake). They told me that they had just returned from a concert in Poland, like Woodstock, called the Heart to Heart festival. Then they wanted to take picture for Facebook. Later when we went back the party seemingly had dispersed so I loaded some water, the rest of a bottle of red wine and some cognac into my bag and we high-tailed it out of there after one of the girls grabbed some of the food. At this point, I had started doing shots of cognac with them and I was feeling really good. And they thought it was awesome that I smuggled the booze out in my bag. They told me that was very Ukrainian. I told them, that was very Amy. We went back to their room and continued to drink, then we headed off to the discotheque where we shook our money makers like crazy, probably to the embarrassment of all the kids.
Let’s just say, I had fun that night, but the next day, was just a tad painful. This is the second time I have sincerely tried to drink with Ukrainians. Amy, learn your lesson. You are not built for that crap. Stick with your red wine and gin and tonics, refrain from the vodka and cognac shots… or shots of anything for that matter. You will thank me for this bit of advice later.
I went to the second half of the training with the energetic trainer. The kids played some fun team-building games that I have and haven’t seen before. At the end, they handed out certificates to the kids for all their efforts. And oddly enough, despite the fact that I just sat and watched, I got a certificate too (certificates after events are also very Ukrainian). After the training, I swam a bit with the other adults. There was a huge picnic spread of stuff to pick on, but they were demanding I do shots. Nope, No, No Way, Not Again. Maybe they thought I was rude for refusing, but there was no way I could do that again. After lunch, I snuck to my room and took at nap.
After dinner there was a talent show that was absolutely amazing. The kids sang, and did choreographed dance sequences to techno music. It was unbelievable. I had to keep pinching myself, because it was so obvious that I was in Ukraine. There is even a Ukrainian version of what looked like the Macarena! The kicker for me though was a choreographed karate fight scene where one kid was dressed in a black Gei and the other in a white Gei and the song Final Countdown was playing as they fought. It was awesome. I figured nothing could top that, so I snuck off and went to bed early before anyone could rope me into another night of crazy drinking.
The next day we had breakfast and hit the road early. My boss asked me, ‘You went to bed early last night didn’t you’? Yep, I did. How did you sleep, OTLEECHNA (means super). I asked him how he slept and he said ploe-ha (horrible). He told me he wanted sleep badly. I think he was jealous that I snuck off and went to bed early. We drove the two hours home, I got home, got inside, and locked my door. Dropped my stuff and tried to head out the door to make it to the Post Office to pick up my packages and my key was stuck in the door. Lame. So I grabbed my bag and said a little prayer to the gods and left my key in the door and went to the store and picked up my packages. I called my boss when I got back and he came right over despite the fact that I had just woken him up. Then he turned the key and it came right out. I screamed, ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ and we both laughed. He didn’t quite understand so he made me say ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ over and over again. I explained that I had no idea how to say it in Russian. But then we laughed again and he left.
What a great Ukrainian adventure.
Of course, I wanted more information, so at some point, I asked him where the camp was. He pulled up a map of Kharkivska oblast and pointed somewhere east of Kharkiv. ‘There, that’s where it is, understand’? Fine, and then I wanted to know what kind of camp it was. ‘HIV/AIDS, training, understand’? So I had the bare minimum for what I could expect. I asked him what I should bring and he told me, nothing… and then, he didn’t know. And then, I got more specific. Do I need a sleeping bag, sheets, pillow, towel? Well sleeping bag, no, sheets, no, pillow, no… but towel, yes. Okay fine. So armed with this bit of knowledge I was supposedly prepared for camp.
The morning we were supposed to leave I met him in the center by the administration building. At a certain point, he said, Amy let’s go, so I got in the car and we started driving. My boss put on his seatbelt. This is a novelty in Ukraine. People just don’t wear seatbelts. When I get in the front seat its automatic, I put on my seatbelt. But in Ukraine, this is offensive. It says to the driver that you don’t trust them. My boss asked me at some point, why I put it on, I explained that it was a reflex, automatic. In the US, it’s the law, so I don’t even think about it. That time, he put his on in solidarity. This time, I was confused momentarily, but then as we were driving a driver approaching us in the opposite direction had crossed his arm across his chest and was tapping the opposite shoulder. I came to learn that that gesture means cops.
So my boss said, Amy, cops, da? I said it, and he tried to match my pronunciation. Cops. Then I said, or you can say ‘Po-Po’. Po-Po is slang for cops. So he said it and laughed, and said it again and I laughed because when he said it, it sounded more like Poo-Poo. But eventually, he got it. Then for the gusto, I said, ‘Po-Po in da hawz’. And that confused him because he understood the word house, but didn’t understand because we were outside in a car. So I explained that that meant that there were Po-Po around and I gestured around with my hand. And he got it. So for a few minutes he repeated, Po-Po in the house. This is something I wish I got on videotape.
Our drive to the camp, was scenic and long. Logistically speaking, the camp wasn’t that far from Balakleya, but the roads are so crappy that it takes double and triple the time that it would take to drive anywhere in the states. After almost 2 hours we made it. When we got there my boss greeted his friends and pointed out his boss, but then told me to go walk around the lake for a couple of hours. He would call me when he was ready. Uh okay. This was fine, but it was HOT and my water was locked in the trunk of his car at his suggestion. Before parting, I demanded the water and that he show me where the toilet was. He showed me the toilet and explained that each dorm had one, but we didn’t get my water. I ended up sitting by the lake and reading my book.
After awhile, I went back up and looked for him because I was thirsty. Ukrainians, actually don’t drink that much water, so they don’t understand why Americans need to drink lots of it. I needed my water. I got my water, deposited my valuables in his trunk, got my bags and we set out for my room. I got my own room, it had 5 beds in it. My door didn’t close, but eventually, a handyman came around and fixed the lock and gave me a key. Prior, I jammed a Rolling Stone magazine in the jam to keep the door closed. Ah Ukraine.
With my prior prompting, after lunch he sat me down with his schedule and told me the important things like, when to eat and when the trainings were to take place and that there was an opening ceremony that night that I needed to go to before dinner, and that after dark there was a discotheque. This discotheque seems to be a common theme at Ukrainian camps. Some guy with a sound system blares techno and the kids dance. So for a couple of hours I was free, so I swam for a bit then went to my room to relax and read and charge my phone. My boss came in shortly after bearing a light blue t-shirt, a ball cap, a handkerchief, a small pouch and a pen and pad all with the social organizations logo on them. Camp schwag, very nice. He explained that I was to wear this to the opening ceremony. Fair enough. He left and came back a half an hour later and took the handkerchief back and explained something about the ceremony and tying it around my neck. Okay.
I then went to some trainings and finally settled on one that was outside in one of the camp’s gazebos. The kids were interested and the trainer was really energetic, so even though I really couldn’t understand what was going on, it was amusing to watch. The training seemed to wrap up when another lady came by and explained that the kids had to go and pick up their t-shirts and ball caps for the ceremony. So, I went for another swim and headed back to my room and read for a bit since the ceremony wasn’t for another hour.
When it came to be around time for the ceremony, I ventured out and was welcomed by a sea of people dressed in the same uniform of the light blue t-shirt, caps, etc. It made me think of the Smurfs. I headed to the patio to meet my boss and we ended up standing around for a bit waiting. Then the sound system cued up, the techno music started and the kids in 3 lines each of single-file lines started marching onto the patio. They marched on, the lady with the microphone told them they looked like crap (or so I imagined she said, based on the tone and volume of her voice) and they filed off the patio. Cue the music, they did it again, and then again, filed off the patio. I was confused so I asked my boss if it was over, and he said no, that this was an exercise in repetition. Ah okay.
So a few more ‘repetitions’, the kids in teams of twenty or so recited something for the crowd in a very cheerleader kind of way, and then there were introductions, like at an awards show. Except in this case, it was the higher ups in the Kharkiv Oblast Government that lead the social services organization. The lady with the microphone gave an introduction and the person would saunter across the patio and everyone would clap. It was a bit surreal.
Towards the end of the ceremony, they came to the part where they were honoring their guests that were visiting the camp. So each person who was honored was asked to come forward and stand in a line. In Ukraine, when people make speeches they are, let’s say, extremely long-winded. It’s like that with toasts too. So my mind tends to wander, especially since I only understand 2 out of every 5 words and then don’t always understand how it all fits together in a sentence. But at a certain point, I clued in. The last honoree was me! My boss cleverly snapped my photo at the exact moment when I realized that they were talking about a volunteer from the United States, who was in Ukraine with the Peace Corps. The look on my face in the photo is absolutely classic. It can only be described as my ‘What the Fuck?’ Face. I joined the people in line and one of the kids was assigned to present me with a small gift and tie the handkerchief around my neck, scout style. This whole ceremony was AWESOME, so Ukraine. Then at the end of the ceremony the kids filed off to blaring techno music. I went directly to my room and took off my blue get-up because honestly, that t-shirt was super hot.
I then ambled around waiting for dinner to start, but in so doing was scooped up by the Secretary of something or other and he told me that I was supposed to be in the staff room for a celebration. My boss told me nothing of the sort, but maybe I missed the invitation when I scooted to change my clothes. In the room the table was lined with wine, cognac, beer, kvas (fermented black bread drink), juice and water, plus a whole bunch of Ukrainian drinking snacks like break, cheese and sausages, olives, cucumbers, tomatoes, and lettuce (that might have been garnish). The Secretary of so and so demanded that I sit next to him and drink. My boss, kept saying Amy, Beer, Amy, Beer, so guess what I drank?
There were a lot of long-winded toasts, I felt like it was my place to put my two cents in on that, so I stood up and said ‘May I?’ in Russian. Then said, ‘Rock and Roll’, understand? Heads nodded. And then I said Ukraine, understand? And there was a chorus of ‘Da’s. And then I said, ‘Ukraine ROCKS!’ and there was some mumbling and then someone yelled out, ‘To Ukraine!’ in Russian so it went over well. I was being associated with Rock and Roll to begin with because there were a few people at the table who were fans of Woodstock, the music festival. So thanks to the old last name, I get some instant recognition, but then confusion when I explain that no, I wasn’t born at, nor conceived at Woodstock.
I made friends with two hip gals at the table by joining them when they went out for a smoke break. (In case you were wondering, I did not partake). They told me that they had just returned from a concert in Poland, like Woodstock, called the Heart to Heart festival. Then they wanted to take picture for Facebook. Later when we went back the party seemingly had dispersed so I loaded some water, the rest of a bottle of red wine and some cognac into my bag and we high-tailed it out of there after one of the girls grabbed some of the food. At this point, I had started doing shots of cognac with them and I was feeling really good. And they thought it was awesome that I smuggled the booze out in my bag. They told me that was very Ukrainian. I told them, that was very Amy. We went back to their room and continued to drink, then we headed off to the discotheque where we shook our money makers like crazy, probably to the embarrassment of all the kids.
Let’s just say, I had fun that night, but the next day, was just a tad painful. This is the second time I have sincerely tried to drink with Ukrainians. Amy, learn your lesson. You are not built for that crap. Stick with your red wine and gin and tonics, refrain from the vodka and cognac shots… or shots of anything for that matter. You will thank me for this bit of advice later.
I went to the second half of the training with the energetic trainer. The kids played some fun team-building games that I have and haven’t seen before. At the end, they handed out certificates to the kids for all their efforts. And oddly enough, despite the fact that I just sat and watched, I got a certificate too (certificates after events are also very Ukrainian). After the training, I swam a bit with the other adults. There was a huge picnic spread of stuff to pick on, but they were demanding I do shots. Nope, No, No Way, Not Again. Maybe they thought I was rude for refusing, but there was no way I could do that again. After lunch, I snuck to my room and took at nap.
After dinner there was a talent show that was absolutely amazing. The kids sang, and did choreographed dance sequences to techno music. It was unbelievable. I had to keep pinching myself, because it was so obvious that I was in Ukraine. There is even a Ukrainian version of what looked like the Macarena! The kicker for me though was a choreographed karate fight scene where one kid was dressed in a black Gei and the other in a white Gei and the song Final Countdown was playing as they fought. It was awesome. I figured nothing could top that, so I snuck off and went to bed early before anyone could rope me into another night of crazy drinking.
The next day we had breakfast and hit the road early. My boss asked me, ‘You went to bed early last night didn’t you’? Yep, I did. How did you sleep, OTLEECHNA (means super). I asked him how he slept and he said ploe-ha (horrible). He told me he wanted sleep badly. I think he was jealous that I snuck off and went to bed early. We drove the two hours home, I got home, got inside, and locked my door. Dropped my stuff and tried to head out the door to make it to the Post Office to pick up my packages and my key was stuck in the door. Lame. So I grabbed my bag and said a little prayer to the gods and left my key in the door and went to the store and picked up my packages. I called my boss when I got back and he came right over despite the fact that I had just woken him up. Then he turned the key and it came right out. I screamed, ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ and we both laughed. He didn’t quite understand so he made me say ‘You have got to be fucking kidding me!?!’ over and over again. I explained that I had no idea how to say it in Russian. But then we laughed again and he left.
What a great Ukrainian adventure.
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Karate Kids Revolt
One of my fellow Peace Corps Volunteers, Wyoming, invited me to come attend a camp near her city and do an HIV/AIDS training and/or a healthy lifestyles training. I figured why not, it’s a great excuse to travel a bit and I will get my chops wet with some trainings. I would also get a chance to hang with some fellow PCVs, and I figured it couldn’t hurt to ask if Conor could go to. And it turns out, he could.
I prepared myself to buy my train ticket solo. I went on the internet and researched the trains, then picked the train that I could take. I wrote down the date, train number, time of departure and arrival, and to and from destinations. I figured, worst case scenario, I hand the lady at the train station my piece of paper and she could figure out what I was trying to say. When I got to the window, I explained that I spoke poor Russian and that I wanted to buy a ticket to Lugansk. We actually managed without the paper, but then she kept asking me questions that I didn’t initially understand, so I handed her the paper. She double-checked what we had arranged with my paper, gave me the thumbs up and I paid for the ticket. Success.
The night of travel I set my alarm for three in the morning, got up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, closed and locked the windows and called for a taxi. I got on the train no problems. Well, I got on the wrong car, but walked through until I got to my right car. My train car attendant was waiting for me, and she brought me to my compartment and unlocked it. I thought this was weird and then I discovered why, I was the first one in the compartment… and it turned out, I had the compartment to myself, all night long. Awesome, my lady at the train station hooked me up.
I got into Lugansk, and Wyoming met me at the train station. Conor and I had coordinated our train trips so that we arrived and departed within an hour of each other. So we waited for Conor, then got in a cab and headed to Wyoming’s sublet apartment that had a spare room. Yep, that’s right. Conor and I had our own room with two twin beds pushed together to form a GIGANTIC bed. This trip was turning out to be an awesome success by Ukrainian standards.
We took a shower and headed to the Fresh Café for a Caesar salad and chicken, mushroom and cheese melted-wrap-thing. And, bonus, the Fresh Café had air-conditioning. After a nice lunch, we grabbed some water and snacks at the grocery store and headed back to Wyoming’s apartment to meet the ladies that were running the camp program, Rita and Galena. They brought juicy honey dew-like melon to the meeting and we had a nice meet and greet and then parted ways to go to Caroline’s for an awesome dinner party with Haley and Walter. Caroline made fresh salsa and roasted a chicken and of course, there was beer a plenty.
The next day, Conor, Wyoming and I set off to meet up with our bus to camp. I was really excited. I haven’t been to camp in more years than I will divulge. It was going to be fun. We stopped along the route in a small town and picked up a bus load of waiting kids and headed to camp, but when got there all chaos ensued. We were approached by numerous friendly Americans from the South. Weird. And then all our kids kind of scattered. It turns out, that the Baptist Camp that we rented out for the week, was also holding a bible-study camp at the same time. Again, super weird.
This put us in kind of a funny spot. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we belong to a non-religious, non-political, government organization. We aren’t allowed to be involved in religious organizations like this, or side with any local political parties. Of course, we can pursue religion on our own if we want, but we can’t ‘work’ with a religious organization for the obvious reason that the Peace Corps can’t be seen as affiliating itself with any one religion. It sends the wrong message. Honestly, I didn’t feel comfortable with the whole situation, but we were assured that our group was separate. We had our own camp, they had theirs. We were just sharing the camp premises with them.
Well, that isn’t exactly what happened. Despite the fact that we had tents for out kids, our kids were filtered in with the other kids at the Baptist camp. They were found space in the Baptist dorms and logistically, the way the camp was set up, each dorm did activities together. They ate at the same table, they showered at the same time, they attended Bible School together. Our kids were kind of hijacked and we didn’t know who they were at this point. Our partner organization, who had organized for us to stay at the camp and had recruited the kids, had seemingly left us in the dark about the religious aspect of this camp and left us hanging in the breeze. So we apparently were there with our curriculum for mediation and healthy lifestyles and had lost our kids.
We did our best to separate ourselves from the group. It was agreed in advance that Conor and I would have our own tent, but when we got there we were asked to share space with the Baptist counselors. WTF was all I could say. But small battles were won the first day. Conor and I got our tent, Wyoming got a tent and Andrew, her translator, got his own tent. We had essentially set up our own rebel tent kingdom. Conor and I, an unmarried couple, shared a tent. Apparently, that was a HUGE sign of disrespect to the Baptists, but hey, we had not signed on for a religious camp. And we sure as hell had to separate ourselves as much as we could from that. Thus we had our own little tent haven of three.
Well, we got to do one healthy lifestyles training. The majority of the kids who attended were the kids that were kind of separate from the big group to begin with. They came to camp to do Karate, and the Karate Kids hung out as a group. They had their own dorm and roomed together, ate together and trained together. And they hated the fact that we were at a religious camp too. So at the end of the training, they seemed kind of amped about practicing some English so we asked them if they would like to have an English lesson the next day. They said sure, so we figured, they like Karate, why not do a lesson with a little bit of American slang and incorporate some Karate vocabulary.
Conor took the lead on this lesson. He clued me into a drinking game, called ‘Chop, Block, Punch, Kick’. I had never heard of it, but apparently it involved quick reflexes and would work for our kids, we just took out the drinking bit. We also taught them, ‘What’s Up?’; ‘Just chillin’; ‘Awesome’, etc. The Karate game was a smash and I think this sealed the deal with the Karate Kids. We were now considered part of their group. After the Chop game, they indulged us in a three-legged race. We used a sheet that Wyoming had pilfered from the Baptists and cut up to tie their legs together. We also did wheel-barrow races. It was fun.
Without being overly long-winded, we rebels, Conor, Me, Wyoming and Andrew had a daily mecca to the village to drink well-needed mental health stabilizing beer to deal with the stress of not being able to conduct our camp in the way that we wanted. The afternoon trips to the village store were lush with interesting people who would meander over and chat with us while we drank our beer. We also found a swimming hole, or rather a pond that smelled very pondy and duck-shitty, but it was well-needed with the heat.
The highlight of the camp was when the Karate Kids went to the head of their program and told him that they thought this religious business was fishy and that they wanted to leave the camp. They refused to stay in fact. So, he relented and over a campfire guitar sing-a-long the kids invited us to join them on a rebel camping trip. They were going to take the tents and set up camp 6 km away along the river and just be. We ended up declining due to logistics (we Americans haven’t yet been weaned off bottled water). But wouldn’t that have been awesome? I think these kids are just great and feel really proud of them for sticking up for something they believed in. Maybe next year, we can tag along for the their rebel camp.
Our group minus half of our kids left the next day with the Karate Kids. Thanks Southern Baptists for hijacking our camp, but yeah to us for standing up for ourselves. Conor and I had train tickets to return home on Sunday night so we decided to just hang in Lugansk for a few days. The highlights were a mecca to McDonald’s for cheeseburgers and air-conditioning followed by the movie Inception (it looked awesome, but it was in Ukrainian so didn’t understand much, but visually awesome, also a/c was awesome too). Multiple dinner parties with Caroline at which point we finally got to play some cribbage and thanks to Caroline’s tutelage, I understand how to play and LOVE IT! Andrew (his real name is Andrei, but he prefers Andrew when around English speakers) took us in his car to the river and we had an AMAZING day of swimming, picnicking and more cribbage!
Bottom-line, I ate very well on this trip (largely due to Caroline’s manic cooking and salsa making). Despite the snags, we ended up having a great time. We built up positive relationships with Andrew and Rita and Galena from Wyoming’s organization. We have been invited back to work with them again with assurance that if they do another camp, it will not be held at a Baptist camp. We have new friends in the Karate Kids. We all fell in love with George, Rita’s one year old son. And I got to spend quality time with Conor, Wyoming, Caroline, Haley and Walter. What a great experience.
I prepared myself to buy my train ticket solo. I went on the internet and researched the trains, then picked the train that I could take. I wrote down the date, train number, time of departure and arrival, and to and from destinations. I figured, worst case scenario, I hand the lady at the train station my piece of paper and she could figure out what I was trying to say. When I got to the window, I explained that I spoke poor Russian and that I wanted to buy a ticket to Lugansk. We actually managed without the paper, but then she kept asking me questions that I didn’t initially understand, so I handed her the paper. She double-checked what we had arranged with my paper, gave me the thumbs up and I paid for the ticket. Success.
The night of travel I set my alarm for three in the morning, got up, washed my face, brushed my teeth, closed and locked the windows and called for a taxi. I got on the train no problems. Well, I got on the wrong car, but walked through until I got to my right car. My train car attendant was waiting for me, and she brought me to my compartment and unlocked it. I thought this was weird and then I discovered why, I was the first one in the compartment… and it turned out, I had the compartment to myself, all night long. Awesome, my lady at the train station hooked me up.
I got into Lugansk, and Wyoming met me at the train station. Conor and I had coordinated our train trips so that we arrived and departed within an hour of each other. So we waited for Conor, then got in a cab and headed to Wyoming’s sublet apartment that had a spare room. Yep, that’s right. Conor and I had our own room with two twin beds pushed together to form a GIGANTIC bed. This trip was turning out to be an awesome success by Ukrainian standards.
We took a shower and headed to the Fresh Café for a Caesar salad and chicken, mushroom and cheese melted-wrap-thing. And, bonus, the Fresh Café had air-conditioning. After a nice lunch, we grabbed some water and snacks at the grocery store and headed back to Wyoming’s apartment to meet the ladies that were running the camp program, Rita and Galena. They brought juicy honey dew-like melon to the meeting and we had a nice meet and greet and then parted ways to go to Caroline’s for an awesome dinner party with Haley and Walter. Caroline made fresh salsa and roasted a chicken and of course, there was beer a plenty.
The next day, Conor, Wyoming and I set off to meet up with our bus to camp. I was really excited. I haven’t been to camp in more years than I will divulge. It was going to be fun. We stopped along the route in a small town and picked up a bus load of waiting kids and headed to camp, but when got there all chaos ensued. We were approached by numerous friendly Americans from the South. Weird. And then all our kids kind of scattered. It turns out, that the Baptist Camp that we rented out for the week, was also holding a bible-study camp at the same time. Again, super weird.
This put us in kind of a funny spot. As Peace Corps Volunteers, we belong to a non-religious, non-political, government organization. We aren’t allowed to be involved in religious organizations like this, or side with any local political parties. Of course, we can pursue religion on our own if we want, but we can’t ‘work’ with a religious organization for the obvious reason that the Peace Corps can’t be seen as affiliating itself with any one religion. It sends the wrong message. Honestly, I didn’t feel comfortable with the whole situation, but we were assured that our group was separate. We had our own camp, they had theirs. We were just sharing the camp premises with them.
Well, that isn’t exactly what happened. Despite the fact that we had tents for out kids, our kids were filtered in with the other kids at the Baptist camp. They were found space in the Baptist dorms and logistically, the way the camp was set up, each dorm did activities together. They ate at the same table, they showered at the same time, they attended Bible School together. Our kids were kind of hijacked and we didn’t know who they were at this point. Our partner organization, who had organized for us to stay at the camp and had recruited the kids, had seemingly left us in the dark about the religious aspect of this camp and left us hanging in the breeze. So we apparently were there with our curriculum for mediation and healthy lifestyles and had lost our kids.
We did our best to separate ourselves from the group. It was agreed in advance that Conor and I would have our own tent, but when we got there we were asked to share space with the Baptist counselors. WTF was all I could say. But small battles were won the first day. Conor and I got our tent, Wyoming got a tent and Andrew, her translator, got his own tent. We had essentially set up our own rebel tent kingdom. Conor and I, an unmarried couple, shared a tent. Apparently, that was a HUGE sign of disrespect to the Baptists, but hey, we had not signed on for a religious camp. And we sure as hell had to separate ourselves as much as we could from that. Thus we had our own little tent haven of three.
Well, we got to do one healthy lifestyles training. The majority of the kids who attended were the kids that were kind of separate from the big group to begin with. They came to camp to do Karate, and the Karate Kids hung out as a group. They had their own dorm and roomed together, ate together and trained together. And they hated the fact that we were at a religious camp too. So at the end of the training, they seemed kind of amped about practicing some English so we asked them if they would like to have an English lesson the next day. They said sure, so we figured, they like Karate, why not do a lesson with a little bit of American slang and incorporate some Karate vocabulary.
Conor took the lead on this lesson. He clued me into a drinking game, called ‘Chop, Block, Punch, Kick’. I had never heard of it, but apparently it involved quick reflexes and would work for our kids, we just took out the drinking bit. We also taught them, ‘What’s Up?’; ‘Just chillin’; ‘Awesome’, etc. The Karate game was a smash and I think this sealed the deal with the Karate Kids. We were now considered part of their group. After the Chop game, they indulged us in a three-legged race. We used a sheet that Wyoming had pilfered from the Baptists and cut up to tie their legs together. We also did wheel-barrow races. It was fun.
Without being overly long-winded, we rebels, Conor, Me, Wyoming and Andrew had a daily mecca to the village to drink well-needed mental health stabilizing beer to deal with the stress of not being able to conduct our camp in the way that we wanted. The afternoon trips to the village store were lush with interesting people who would meander over and chat with us while we drank our beer. We also found a swimming hole, or rather a pond that smelled very pondy and duck-shitty, but it was well-needed with the heat.
The highlight of the camp was when the Karate Kids went to the head of their program and told him that they thought this religious business was fishy and that they wanted to leave the camp. They refused to stay in fact. So, he relented and over a campfire guitar sing-a-long the kids invited us to join them on a rebel camping trip. They were going to take the tents and set up camp 6 km away along the river and just be. We ended up declining due to logistics (we Americans haven’t yet been weaned off bottled water). But wouldn’t that have been awesome? I think these kids are just great and feel really proud of them for sticking up for something they believed in. Maybe next year, we can tag along for the their rebel camp.
Our group minus half of our kids left the next day with the Karate Kids. Thanks Southern Baptists for hijacking our camp, but yeah to us for standing up for ourselves. Conor and I had train tickets to return home on Sunday night so we decided to just hang in Lugansk for a few days. The highlights were a mecca to McDonald’s for cheeseburgers and air-conditioning followed by the movie Inception (it looked awesome, but it was in Ukrainian so didn’t understand much, but visually awesome, also a/c was awesome too). Multiple dinner parties with Caroline at which point we finally got to play some cribbage and thanks to Caroline’s tutelage, I understand how to play and LOVE IT! Andrew (his real name is Andrei, but he prefers Andrew when around English speakers) took us in his car to the river and we had an AMAZING day of swimming, picnicking and more cribbage!
Bottom-line, I ate very well on this trip (largely due to Caroline’s manic cooking and salsa making). Despite the snags, we ended up having a great time. We built up positive relationships with Andrew and Rita and Galena from Wyoming’s organization. We have been invited back to work with them again with assurance that if they do another camp, it will not be held at a Baptist camp. We have new friends in the Karate Kids. We all fell in love with George, Rita’s one year old son. And I got to spend quality time with Conor, Wyoming, Caroline, Haley and Walter. What a great experience.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Heat and New Friends
Dear Heat,
What the fuck? When I moved to Ukraine, I was told to prepare for the cold. Being from New England, I didn’t think I would have to prepare that hard for it. A bit of important information seems to have been left out… nobody mentioned that we should also prepare for extremely hot summers. The temperature has been over 100 degrees for over a week now, and there doesn’t seem to be a break in sight. How am I expected to be productive? My brain is simmering and seams to be leaking out of my body in the form of sweat. Could you please give me a break? (I realize I might regret this request in a few months).
Me and my sweat soaked clothing are eagerly awaiting your response.
Sincerely,
Amy
Dear Cold,
Where did you go? I have multiple sweatshirts and special new toasty socks and am awaiting your return.
I miss you dearly,
Amy
While my brain has been simmering, things have seemed to pick up here in Balakleya. Who knew that a gas leak and a little CO2 poisoning would be the catalyst which seemingly got things moving here for me? The day after the whole gas leak fiasco, I had a new faucet and shower nozzle installed and had put a down payment on a bed (and, after a week in Lugansk, I now have the bed. It’s HUGE and extremely comfortable). My Director had also arranged for me to meet with a partnering organization solo. And that is what I did.
I met with two ladies at a Social Services organization for Families, Youth and Children. I asked a few questions in Russian and learned what they were all about. The ladies were extremely gracious and well-humored in light of my lack of proficiency with the language. They explained things really simply and spoke slowly and we laughed a lot and passed around the dictionary when I didn’t understand. It was light and jovial and it seemed like it will be a pleasure to work with them starting in the fall.
At a lull in the conversation, the Director of this organization asked me how old I was. I told her, then we went around the room and everyone told their ages. The girl who I thought was in her mid-twenties, was actually 30 and had a 7 year old daughter. The director told me she just turned 40. So we laughed about her turning 40. They asked about the girls in my office, and I told them the ages that I knew, and then learned the ages that I didn’t. I thought this was an interesting cultural difference. It’s apparently not rude to ask people in Ukraine how old they are.
One of the girls had a really hip haircut and since I have been re-thinking my plan to grow my bangs out, I asked her where she got her hair cut. If you have a good haircut then potentially, the hairdresser is good and I wouldn’t end up with a mullet. (The mullet seems to be in fashion here, or never went out of fashion and has been around since the 80s. It’s a real fear that women will end up with a mullet if you go and ask for a haircut without really being able to speak the language effectively). I needed to cut the bangs back and get a trim, but I didn’t want a mullet. So the Director told the girl with the hip hair to take me to the salon and help me out with communicating with the hairdresser. Awesome!
On the way to the salon, we chatted and apparently, I agreed to be a private English tutor for this girl’s 7 year old daughter. The word for tutor sounds like ‘re-pe-teeter’, which to me sounds like the Anglicization of the French word ‘to repeat’ or ‘re-pe-teet’ with an ‘-er’ on the end. Well my languages have all become a giant mush in my brain, so in fact it might not even be that. Now I have to review the French to be sure, but anyhow… I tried to pretend that I didn’t understand, because I really don’t know if I will have time to commit to something like private tutoring when things get rolling, but if it secures me a friend in town, I might as well do it.
I got a great haircut and after my new friend invited me to go swimming with her and her daughter that night. A big thing in Ukraine which I am learning is that summer = swimming in the river. Balakleya has a river that kind of winds through a portion of the town, and it is perfectly acceptable to swim and bathe in the river. The river, as it turns out, is THE place for social gatherings in the summer. The hotter it gets, the more time is spent at the river. Apparently, a lot of people die in Ukraine, swimming in the rivers because they can’t swim well, or they are swept away in the current, but that doesn’t stop people from cooling off in the summer.
Anyhow, after struggling on the phone, I waited outside of my apartment and my friend and her friends picked me up in their car. We stopped at her parent’s house and I met her entire family: her mother, father, brother, his wife and new baby, her husband, and her 7 year old daughter. I was invited to ‘chai’ (tea and cookies), but had to decline because there was a car full of people waiting for us to go. We ended up going to a different beach than the beach that I went to with Conor. Apparently there are tons of different swimming holes up and down the river. I met a bunch of her friends and we swam for a couple of hours. We drank beer and shared snacks and listened to the car radio.
Then we decided to keep the festivities going and went to the forest after dropping off her daughter. We picked up some snacks and some vodka and picked a spot, parked the car and proceeded to chat and do shots of vodka, in the forest. I had a few shots, chatted and joked a bit, and had a great time. Around 11, my friend asked if I wanted to go home even though the party was still going on, and knowing that I had work the next day, I figured I would take advantage of the offer of a ride and get out of there. Now, I know that it sounds really irresponsible of me to drink shots of vodka in the woods. But, drinking vodka is a HUGE part of the Ukrainian culture. I am just choosing to chock it up to a cultural exchange. Once I fit in a bit more, then I can ease up and do my own thing.
On another note, I had apparently agreed to grab drinks the next day, but when the next day came around I realized that I better not. I can’t drink like that all the time. My friend did call me to remind me to come, but I was leaving for Lugansk early the next morning and it would probably be a better travel experience if I wasn’t drunk or hung over. I told her I couldn’t make it. I hope this doesn’t impact our new friendship, but we’ll see. Perhaps now that I am back in town, I’ll swing by her office to say hi.
What the fuck? When I moved to Ukraine, I was told to prepare for the cold. Being from New England, I didn’t think I would have to prepare that hard for it. A bit of important information seems to have been left out… nobody mentioned that we should also prepare for extremely hot summers. The temperature has been over 100 degrees for over a week now, and there doesn’t seem to be a break in sight. How am I expected to be productive? My brain is simmering and seams to be leaking out of my body in the form of sweat. Could you please give me a break? (I realize I might regret this request in a few months).
Me and my sweat soaked clothing are eagerly awaiting your response.
Sincerely,
Amy
Dear Cold,
Where did you go? I have multiple sweatshirts and special new toasty socks and am awaiting your return.
I miss you dearly,
Amy
While my brain has been simmering, things have seemed to pick up here in Balakleya. Who knew that a gas leak and a little CO2 poisoning would be the catalyst which seemingly got things moving here for me? The day after the whole gas leak fiasco, I had a new faucet and shower nozzle installed and had put a down payment on a bed (and, after a week in Lugansk, I now have the bed. It’s HUGE and extremely comfortable). My Director had also arranged for me to meet with a partnering organization solo. And that is what I did.
I met with two ladies at a Social Services organization for Families, Youth and Children. I asked a few questions in Russian and learned what they were all about. The ladies were extremely gracious and well-humored in light of my lack of proficiency with the language. They explained things really simply and spoke slowly and we laughed a lot and passed around the dictionary when I didn’t understand. It was light and jovial and it seemed like it will be a pleasure to work with them starting in the fall.
At a lull in the conversation, the Director of this organization asked me how old I was. I told her, then we went around the room and everyone told their ages. The girl who I thought was in her mid-twenties, was actually 30 and had a 7 year old daughter. The director told me she just turned 40. So we laughed about her turning 40. They asked about the girls in my office, and I told them the ages that I knew, and then learned the ages that I didn’t. I thought this was an interesting cultural difference. It’s apparently not rude to ask people in Ukraine how old they are.
One of the girls had a really hip haircut and since I have been re-thinking my plan to grow my bangs out, I asked her where she got her hair cut. If you have a good haircut then potentially, the hairdresser is good and I wouldn’t end up with a mullet. (The mullet seems to be in fashion here, or never went out of fashion and has been around since the 80s. It’s a real fear that women will end up with a mullet if you go and ask for a haircut without really being able to speak the language effectively). I needed to cut the bangs back and get a trim, but I didn’t want a mullet. So the Director told the girl with the hip hair to take me to the salon and help me out with communicating with the hairdresser. Awesome!
On the way to the salon, we chatted and apparently, I agreed to be a private English tutor for this girl’s 7 year old daughter. The word for tutor sounds like ‘re-pe-teeter’, which to me sounds like the Anglicization of the French word ‘to repeat’ or ‘re-pe-teet’ with an ‘-er’ on the end. Well my languages have all become a giant mush in my brain, so in fact it might not even be that. Now I have to review the French to be sure, but anyhow… I tried to pretend that I didn’t understand, because I really don’t know if I will have time to commit to something like private tutoring when things get rolling, but if it secures me a friend in town, I might as well do it.
I got a great haircut and after my new friend invited me to go swimming with her and her daughter that night. A big thing in Ukraine which I am learning is that summer = swimming in the river. Balakleya has a river that kind of winds through a portion of the town, and it is perfectly acceptable to swim and bathe in the river. The river, as it turns out, is THE place for social gatherings in the summer. The hotter it gets, the more time is spent at the river. Apparently, a lot of people die in Ukraine, swimming in the rivers because they can’t swim well, or they are swept away in the current, but that doesn’t stop people from cooling off in the summer.
Anyhow, after struggling on the phone, I waited outside of my apartment and my friend and her friends picked me up in their car. We stopped at her parent’s house and I met her entire family: her mother, father, brother, his wife and new baby, her husband, and her 7 year old daughter. I was invited to ‘chai’ (tea and cookies), but had to decline because there was a car full of people waiting for us to go. We ended up going to a different beach than the beach that I went to with Conor. Apparently there are tons of different swimming holes up and down the river. I met a bunch of her friends and we swam for a couple of hours. We drank beer and shared snacks and listened to the car radio.
Then we decided to keep the festivities going and went to the forest after dropping off her daughter. We picked up some snacks and some vodka and picked a spot, parked the car and proceeded to chat and do shots of vodka, in the forest. I had a few shots, chatted and joked a bit, and had a great time. Around 11, my friend asked if I wanted to go home even though the party was still going on, and knowing that I had work the next day, I figured I would take advantage of the offer of a ride and get out of there. Now, I know that it sounds really irresponsible of me to drink shots of vodka in the woods. But, drinking vodka is a HUGE part of the Ukrainian culture. I am just choosing to chock it up to a cultural exchange. Once I fit in a bit more, then I can ease up and do my own thing.
On another note, I had apparently agreed to grab drinks the next day, but when the next day came around I realized that I better not. I can’t drink like that all the time. My friend did call me to remind me to come, but I was leaving for Lugansk early the next morning and it would probably be a better travel experience if I wasn’t drunk or hung over. I told her I couldn’t make it. I hope this doesn’t impact our new friendship, but we’ll see. Perhaps now that I am back in town, I’ll swing by her office to say hi.
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