A two hour marchrutka to Kyiv, an hour bus to Borispol Airport, a plane to Frankfurt, a plane to Washington D.C. and a plane to Orlando. 25 hours of traveling since I left my my apartment at 7:30 AM.
In Germany on the plane:
Me: "Can I use the bathroom before we take off?"
Flight Attendant: "I'm sorry, I don't speak English."
Me (in English): "What languages do you speak?"
(Hoping for Spanish or Russian or a long shot with Ukranian; maybe Italian or Portuguese. I can ask to use the bathroom in those, can't I?)
Flight Attendant: "German."
(Dammit)
Nine checkpoints. This is what happens when you try to get to the United States from a non-first world country. My carry-on was scanned five times, my passport was checked seven times and I was personally frisked twice.
On an Aerobus plane:
Flight Attendant (to three Ukranians): "Sirs, you cannot drink that here."
(I look back. Three Ukranians are passing around a bottle in a paper bag.)
Ukrainian (in Russian): "Why not? It's ours. We bought it."
Flight Attendant (in slow English): "It is against the law. I will hold onto it for you."
(Tries to take bottle. Ukrainians protest in Russian. I wonder if I should try and translate.)
Flight Attendant (in slow English): "I will put it in a safe place."
(Ukranians finally relent)
Seven months I've been in Ukraine. Before then, I had never been off U.S. soil for more than 30 days. Every day was a new personal record. Since coming to Ukraine I've been mugged, attacked by a dog, harrassed by police for bribes, watched a girl get beaten in front of me, tried to learn two languages simultaneously, been colder than I've ever been in my life, been more frustrated and lonely than I've ever been in my life and had every idea about why I had come challenged and shattered.
And yet I love it. I love my friends and my job and the challenges and the lessons and the ego boosts and the travel and the opportunities and country itself as it's coming out of a long hard winter--meterological and political--into the first blooms of spring.
In D.C. at customs:
Customs Agent: "How long have you been in Ukraine?" (Looks more closely at the form) "Oh, you're a resident. Why are you in Ukraine?"
Me: "I'm a Peace Corps Volunteer."
Customs Agent: "How's that going for you?"
Me: "Good."
Customs Agent: "How long have you been in Ukraine?"
(Seven months and I've had some of the best and worst days of my life. Seven months and sometimes it feels like a lifetime. Seven months and sometimes it's the beat of a gnat's wing)
Me: "Seven months."
(He hands me back passport)
Customs Agent: "Welcome home."