It's over. I throw in the towel. Ukraine wins. For the past three weeks I have been frustrated at the home situation, not being able to eat what I want, being henpecked by my host mother over things that seem little to me but not to her.
Something's been changing, slowly but steadily, but the night before last I was organizing files on my computer and reread my Peace Corps application essays. In them I talked about my desire to learn about a new culture, my ability to adapt. I realized that I haven't learned much about the culture other than the language, have barely adapted at all.
So last night I decided to just accept Ukranian culture for what it is. I decided to eat what I'm told to eat, dress the way they want me to dress, do what I'm told to do. One of two things will happen: I'll find I enjoy living the way Ukranians do and stop spending so much money, time and effort trying to keep up American habits, or I'll decide it's not for me and gladly get my freedom when I have my own apartment in April. What I'm not going to do is keeping getting annoyed at little things or annoying my host mother with little things, and what I'm not going to do is live more than two years in a country without ever trying to live like its residents.
So this morning instead of scarfing some cereal that my mom sent me in a care package or cooking up an omelet with cheese, I ate what my host mother and her mother-in-law were eating: holodetz topped with a mixture of beets and garlic, bread with butter and homemade jam, and wheat steamed in hot milk, downed with a glass of compote, which is made by boiling apples in water and drinking the liquid that results. It wasn't fantastic, but it wasn't terrible, and what made it worth it was these two women going ga-ga that I was eating all this Ukranian food that I had mostly eschewed before. I had a great conversation with the mother-in-law, who came down for a visit from Moscow. She speaks slowly enough that I understand her, and we talked about train trips. She once took the TransSiberian Express across Russia, and that's something I'd like to do.
In any case, it's two months of being a Ukranian, but at least I'll give it a go. For now, at least, I'm just going to accept the one way.
By the way, I'm coming up on four months in Ukraine. That's a third of a year. Sometimes it feels that long, but mostly it feels much shorter. It's a little sad it took me that long to start trying to fit in. My hair's still long and I still have a goatee and I still wear my green ski cap, but at least I'm shining my shoes every day. It's all about baby steps. I might shave and get a haircut after winter is over.
Oh, I bet that first paragraph made you think I was quiting Peace Corps, didn't it? Well, that's not going to happen yet. As much as I miss home, I don't feel like I'm done with this country, that I haven't by a long shot finished what I came to do...