In three hours I'm supposed to be on a train heading for the Ukranian border, but I don't know if I will be on it. I was scheduled to work on a Habitat for Humanity project in Romania, but I just got an e-mail that a flood has completely cut off the town and they're currently flying people out by helicopter. Hence, the project has been effectively canceled (I was told that there's the odd chance that the waters will recede enough by the 20th to resume work, but not to count on it). So I find myself with time on my hands: do I spend some extra time in Romania? Dip down into Bulgaria? Or do I go back to Zhytomyr for a few day and catch up on sleep?
Questions, questions.
But I did get some answers. Before I went to this last PDO (my last scheduled work in Ukraine for the summer. I am off until August 15th. Woooo!), Diana and I had a talk.
It went simply: I like our friendship, I like cuddling, but I don't think dating would be a good idea because I don't want to be serious. I don't want to lead you on. I then had to explain what the idiom "lead you on" meant.
She then explained that, she didn't think we should date either. Following one of the many truisms that a lot of Ukrainians live by, she said: "if you date someone and it does not work, it will not work the second time." But yes, she still likes the cuddling.
So that's cleared up. We then got into a really long discussion about relationships and I was surprised to learn that she felt cheating in a marriage was perfectly acceptable. "Sometimes you love somebody and you get married. Sometimes you have someone that you are married to and someone that you love." This was told to her by her godmother, a "very wise woman". The only adult she hadn't known to cheat was her
grandfather, but since he is such a shy, reclusive, principaled man, that's not "the type of person" she would want to marry anyway. It was actually really informative and coupled with some other conversations with other Ukrainians I want to put together an overview of what I see to be the Ukranian view of dating and marriage. To give you an idea, the fact that I told Diana that I don't want to be serious impressed
her. "Most Ukrainian guys," she said "will tell you that they will be with you forever, and then they will change their plans."
She thinks Ukrainians should have a more open dialogue about relationships the way Americans do. Which surprised me because seeing how pragmatic Ukranians are about love and relationships, I wondered if Americans don't simply talk so much that we make our relationships neurotic. I've had a few where one party or the other wasn't happy,
but because we "talked about it", what made sense it words still had nothing to do with what makes sense to the heart and someone stayed in a relationship where a Ukrainian would have said "no, that's stupid." On the whole they seem to see things in black and white (including infidelty) whereas we might drives ourselves stumbling around through
a purgatory of grey.
Although talk about grey: when I gave Diana a kiss on the cheek before she left (as I customarily do), she grabbed my face in one hand and kissed me on the lips, then walked out the door. When we met later that night, we were still friends and it was like that last kiss never happened. I'm just going to assume it's all settled because at least she knows my side of it, I'm no longer leading her on, and I'm tired of being confused about it.
Two and a half hours. What to do?
I don't even know how to get into Romania. American Councils paid for my train ticket to the Ukranian border town of Chernivtsy, because they are obliged to pay our way back from PDO, and "back" can mean anywhere in Ukraine. How to get over the border from there may or may not be tricky. Last time Carrie went, she paid 30 griven for a cab ride to the border, then had to wait a few hours before she could hitch a ride on a van going into Romania.
Romania is in the EU and Ukrainians have to have a visa to cross the border (difficult because a lot of Ukrainians illegally work in the EU; it's like a Mexican trying to get into the USA). Consequently there's not a lot of traffic going that way. We'll see. It may not be as difficult as all that; I just won't know until I get there.
Hmmm. Two hours, fifteen minutes. I wonder what I'll do.
Friday, July 15, 2005
Tuesday, July 12, 2005
Ukraine: Jogging (with Pics)
I actually enjoy jogging!
I must point out that I have always hated exercise for the sake of exercise. I've always found it repetative and boring. Things like rock climbing or dance or roller blading or wrestling (in high school) have kept me in shape, but things like lifting weights or running on a treadmill, when I tried them, seemed like an annoying waste of time.
I tried picking up jogging last year because I had to get in shape for climbing Mt. Whitney, but I always did it in the morning with Charles, during a Febuary in Oklahoma and through our ghetto neighborhood. Butt ass early + cold + concrete jungle did not make for a fun run. My training lasted only until the trip itself.
This is different. I started jogging with Steve to get in shape for the Extreme Marathon, and have just kept doing it. The reason I enjoy it so much? Ukraine.
I jog in the early evening, as the sun is setting and the day cools off, on a path that goes through a forest before breaking to a wide meadow covered in yellow flowers.
Steve, jogging through the field ahead of me
The trail then winds down to farmland where people are planting the summer crops by hand, bent over and digging at the dirt with metal tools. With my mp3 player on, listening to music as I glide past these vingettes, it's a other-worldly experience. I don't mean to sound like such a city boy here, it's just that I am.
A babucia by her field
Every time has been something new: a heard of cows grazing beside the path, babucias heard goats with sticks, a horse-drawn cart piled with wood. On the day I brought my camera, a horse-drawn cart with an old metal plow rode by. Holding onto it, talking to the driver, was a man on a bicycle, and there was me, in my tennis shoes and my MP3 player, feeling like three time periods were converging.
Everything I ever imagined a pastoral society to be turns out to be half a mile outside of the city. Did you know I had never seen a scythe used before? Have you ever seen a scythe used before? I was jogging down the dirt road, mind somewhere else, when all of a sudden I looked up and there was an old man on the side of the road, holding up a scythe like death personified. Scared the hell out of me. But after I jogged past, I looked back and saw him bend over to start clearing the grass with it. For some reason, I found it utterly fascinating.
A man with scythe
In any case, it's this sort of calm tranquility, this sort of connection with a more nature-connected life that makes jogging such a good stress reliever now. I understand that it's back-breaking work and maybe the Ukrainians I pass would give it up in a second, but--I don't know--it still somehow feels natural and right. I am jealous of their stability: now is the time to plant, now is the time to grow, now is the time to reap, now is the time to store; their lives have been refined over hundred of years and mine sometimes feels it's about constantly reinventing the wheel. I respect them because they feel the seasons and the cycle of life in a way I never will. It's all I can do just to pass them and try to catch a glimpse.
Which is why I now like jogging.
I must point out that I have always hated exercise for the sake of exercise. I've always found it repetative and boring. Things like rock climbing or dance or roller blading or wrestling (in high school) have kept me in shape, but things like lifting weights or running on a treadmill, when I tried them, seemed like an annoying waste of time.
I tried picking up jogging last year because I had to get in shape for climbing Mt. Whitney, but I always did it in the morning with Charles, during a Febuary in Oklahoma and through our ghetto neighborhood. Butt ass early + cold + concrete jungle did not make for a fun run. My training lasted only until the trip itself.
This is different. I started jogging with Steve to get in shape for the Extreme Marathon, and have just kept doing it. The reason I enjoy it so much? Ukraine.
I jog in the early evening, as the sun is setting and the day cools off, on a path that goes through a forest before breaking to a wide meadow covered in yellow flowers.
Steve, jogging through the field ahead of me
The trail then winds down to farmland where people are planting the summer crops by hand, bent over and digging at the dirt with metal tools. With my mp3 player on, listening to music as I glide past these vingettes, it's a other-worldly experience. I don't mean to sound like such a city boy here, it's just that I am.
A babucia by her field
Every time has been something new: a heard of cows grazing beside the path, babucias heard goats with sticks, a horse-drawn cart piled with wood. On the day I brought my camera, a horse-drawn cart with an old metal plow rode by. Holding onto it, talking to the driver, was a man on a bicycle, and there was me, in my tennis shoes and my MP3 player, feeling like three time periods were converging.
Everything I ever imagined a pastoral society to be turns out to be half a mile outside of the city. Did you know I had never seen a scythe used before? Have you ever seen a scythe used before? I was jogging down the dirt road, mind somewhere else, when all of a sudden I looked up and there was an old man on the side of the road, holding up a scythe like death personified. Scared the hell out of me. But after I jogged past, I looked back and saw him bend over to start clearing the grass with it. For some reason, I found it utterly fascinating.
A man with scythe
In any case, it's this sort of calm tranquility, this sort of connection with a more nature-connected life that makes jogging such a good stress reliever now. I understand that it's back-breaking work and maybe the Ukrainians I pass would give it up in a second, but--I don't know--it still somehow feels natural and right. I am jealous of their stability: now is the time to plant, now is the time to grow, now is the time to reap, now is the time to store; their lives have been refined over hundred of years and mine sometimes feels it's about constantly reinventing the wheel. I respect them because they feel the seasons and the cycle of life in a way I never will. It's all I can do just to pass them and try to catch a glimpse.
Which is why I now like jogging.
Saturday, July 09, 2005
Ukraine: How to Eat American
How to eat American in Ukraine:
Step One: Buy beef and grind it.
Step Two: Wash, peel and chop potatoes.
Step Three: Fry.
Step Four: Make Pepsi. This requires carbonated water, corn syrup, caffeine... Actually it sometimes feels like making Pepsi would be easier than finding it in Zhytomyr. I have found four different stores that sell it, but understanding which store has it in stock when would require some algorithm that would make Einstein babble. I've been known to spend an hour walking around Zhytomry to find Pepsi.
Step Five: Toast bread, slice tomatoes, slice cheese and, viola:
An all-American meal!
Step One: Buy beef and grind it.
Step Two: Wash, peel and chop potatoes.
Step Three: Fry.
Step Four: Make Pepsi. This requires carbonated water, corn syrup, caffeine... Actually it sometimes feels like making Pepsi would be easier than finding it in Zhytomyr. I have found four different stores that sell it, but understanding which store has it in stock when would require some algorithm that would make Einstein babble. I've been known to spend an hour walking around Zhytomry to find Pepsi.
Step Five: Toast bread, slice tomatoes, slice cheese and, viola:
An all-American meal!
Friday, July 08, 2005
Ukraine: PDO (With Pics)
This is one of the harder things about Peace Corps: you get completely cut off from information for a time and then it just hits you. Three days without any access to news to come back to headlines about the US probing a bomb. I then have to do a internet search to find that London had three of them go off. News like that just wrecks you.
But in any case, the Pre-Departure Orientation (PDO) was a lot of fun. Just to catch everyone up, American Councils, in conjunction with literally dozens of other organizations and the US State Department, run a program called FLEX (Future Leaders EXchange program). Yes, the government loves acronyms. FLEX sends qualified high school students from former USSR countries (who have to pass through three rounds of testing, essays and interviews) to America to study for a year. Before they leave, though, they have to have a three day orientation covering topics like "Living in a Host Family", "Stereotyping", and "American Schools" (which differ a lot from Ukrainian schools, if I ever get around to writing about them).
So it was 60 kids, 4 American teachers, 4 Ukrainian Teaching Assistants and 3 American Councils staff in a sanitoria (a bit like a small hotel in the woods), and it was a lot of fun. These kids were just fantastic, literally the best Ukraine has to offer. They were motivated, hard-working, excited and very creative; pretty much the perfect class for any teacher.
And some of these kids are going to be living in great places, too: Portland, OR; Lafayette, LA; Las Vegas, NV; Lakeland, FL. Of course they had a hundred questions about they places they would be living and it made me wistful and jealous describing the ones I had visited. I educated them about Mountain Dew and Krispy Kreme and instructed them to drink and eat these for me.
I just put up the pictures and be quiet now:
Some of my students role-playing sorting out host-family differences
Students exchanging autographs
Some of my kids
All of my kids (the infamous Group 4) and me (being held up by Misha, also for an unknown reason)
The rest of the American teaching staff
Some of my students, prior to the skit competition
My students competing in the skit competition
Other students competing in the skit competition
Misha with the "Tophat", TOPHAT being an acronym they have to learn in order to know how to respond to their host families: Talk, Obey, Participate, Help, Affection, Trust. I went ahead and made a tophat to help illustrate it.
The staff in togas (I'm not exactly sure why, though)
But in any case, the Pre-Departure Orientation (PDO) was a lot of fun. Just to catch everyone up, American Councils, in conjunction with literally dozens of other organizations and the US State Department, run a program called FLEX (Future Leaders EXchange program). Yes, the government loves acronyms. FLEX sends qualified high school students from former USSR countries (who have to pass through three rounds of testing, essays and interviews) to America to study for a year. Before they leave, though, they have to have a three day orientation covering topics like "Living in a Host Family", "Stereotyping", and "American Schools" (which differ a lot from Ukrainian schools, if I ever get around to writing about them).
So it was 60 kids, 4 American teachers, 4 Ukrainian Teaching Assistants and 3 American Councils staff in a sanitoria (a bit like a small hotel in the woods), and it was a lot of fun. These kids were just fantastic, literally the best Ukraine has to offer. They were motivated, hard-working, excited and very creative; pretty much the perfect class for any teacher.
And some of these kids are going to be living in great places, too: Portland, OR; Lafayette, LA; Las Vegas, NV; Lakeland, FL. Of course they had a hundred questions about they places they would be living and it made me wistful and jealous describing the ones I had visited. I educated them about Mountain Dew and Krispy Kreme and instructed them to drink and eat these for me.
I just put up the pictures and be quiet now:
Some of my students role-playing sorting out host-family differences
Students exchanging autographs
Some of my kids
All of my kids (the infamous Group 4) and me (being held up by Misha, also for an unknown reason)
The rest of the American teaching staff
Some of my students, prior to the skit competition
My students competing in the skit competition
Other students competing in the skit competition
Misha with the "Tophat", TOPHAT being an acronym they have to learn in order to know how to respond to their host families: Talk, Obey, Participate, Help, Affection, Trust. I went ahead and made a tophat to help illustrate it.
The staff in togas (I'm not exactly sure why, though)
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
Ukraine: 4th of July
Well, last 4th of July I was playing pool volleyball and eating grilled hamburgers with Sarah at a hostel in Las Vegas. We watched the fireworks from the roof of the hostel until they yelled at us to get off.
It's hard to beat that, but last night was still pretty good. I'm in Kyiv now, getting ready to go teach at the Flex Pre-Departure Orientation for Ukrainian students who will go study in America this fall. Yesterday day was spent working, six of us: four Americans and two Ukrainians spent eight hours making flip charts, handouts, activities, everything. Unfortunately we missed the huge cookout the Marines threw, so instead decided to find an Ex-Pat bar and make the best of it.
The bar we went to was O'Briens, an Irish pub that (I found this funny) has it's name spelled out in Cyrillic letters. Inside, joined by two other Americans (I won't name names) we sang American anthems (The Star Spangled Banner; Proud to be and American, America the Beautiful, even the Pledge of Allegience) with glasses held high (Pepsi in my case) and at the top of our lungs. Ukrainians who heard us came by to congradulate us on our holiday. Their independence day is a huge deal, so they respected ours. Frankly, I really did feel proud to be an American. I would often forget the 4th of July while living in America, as it usually came while I was on some road trip or another. But living in another country gives you a solid identity as an American and it's an identity--our foreign policy aside--that I'm proud to have.
I got attacked by a glass: The only sober one at the table, I managed to knock over a glass of beer reaching across the table. I don't know if it had been pressure washed or what, but it didn't even fall, it tipped, and yet it still exploded when it hit the table, slicing my fingers and wrist. Not bad, mind you, but I do have a series of band-aids and feel a bit like the mummy.
After the bar, we made a 2:00 AM food run. It was technically still the 4th of July in America and we were still celebrating (actually, at our 9:00 AM breakfast this morning, we figured it was still the 4th of July in California, which still called for more American singing. Right now, we're figuring it's still the 4th of July in Hawaii, so we can still be proud to be Americans).
In any case, at the restaurant two Ukrainian men and a Ukrainian woman heard us speaking English and came over. The men, it turned out, had served with the Ukrainian army in Iraq (Ukraine had about 2,000 soldiers in Iraq, just behind Britain and the United States as the largest contributer in the "coalition of the willing"). Ironically, and few people know this, most non-American troops are not assigned to combat duty. The Ukrainians we met did guard duty, hated Iraq but loved the pay: about $1,000 per month. To give you an idea, I get paid $200 a month, and that's a lot of money. The salary for a teacher in Ukraine is $50 a month. In any case, he said life was rough for American soldiers there and, while he didn't agree with the war, he respected them.
They bought us drinks, me included, and I didn't want to offend them by refusing. I did two shots of some gold colored liquid they said came from the Czech Republic. Those two shots put me on my ass and I was done for the night. We made our way back to the hotel (which, while not great, is in the middle of Kyiv. Peace Corps usually puts us in a hotel in BFE and getting there would have required a 20 hrivna cab ride. Thank you, American Councils) and called it a night.
Happy 4th of July!
It's hard to beat that, but last night was still pretty good. I'm in Kyiv now, getting ready to go teach at the Flex Pre-Departure Orientation for Ukrainian students who will go study in America this fall. Yesterday day was spent working, six of us: four Americans and two Ukrainians spent eight hours making flip charts, handouts, activities, everything. Unfortunately we missed the huge cookout the Marines threw, so instead decided to find an Ex-Pat bar and make the best of it.
The bar we went to was O'Briens, an Irish pub that (I found this funny) has it's name spelled out in Cyrillic letters. Inside, joined by two other Americans (I won't name names) we sang American anthems (The Star Spangled Banner; Proud to be and American, America the Beautiful, even the Pledge of Allegience) with glasses held high (Pepsi in my case) and at the top of our lungs. Ukrainians who heard us came by to congradulate us on our holiday. Their independence day is a huge deal, so they respected ours. Frankly, I really did feel proud to be an American. I would often forget the 4th of July while living in America, as it usually came while I was on some road trip or another. But living in another country gives you a solid identity as an American and it's an identity--our foreign policy aside--that I'm proud to have.
I got attacked by a glass: The only sober one at the table, I managed to knock over a glass of beer reaching across the table. I don't know if it had been pressure washed or what, but it didn't even fall, it tipped, and yet it still exploded when it hit the table, slicing my fingers and wrist. Not bad, mind you, but I do have a series of band-aids and feel a bit like the mummy.
After the bar, we made a 2:00 AM food run. It was technically still the 4th of July in America and we were still celebrating (actually, at our 9:00 AM breakfast this morning, we figured it was still the 4th of July in California, which still called for more American singing. Right now, we're figuring it's still the 4th of July in Hawaii, so we can still be proud to be Americans).
In any case, at the restaurant two Ukrainian men and a Ukrainian woman heard us speaking English and came over. The men, it turned out, had served with the Ukrainian army in Iraq (Ukraine had about 2,000 soldiers in Iraq, just behind Britain and the United States as the largest contributer in the "coalition of the willing"). Ironically, and few people know this, most non-American troops are not assigned to combat duty. The Ukrainians we met did guard duty, hated Iraq but loved the pay: about $1,000 per month. To give you an idea, I get paid $200 a month, and that's a lot of money. The salary for a teacher in Ukraine is $50 a month. In any case, he said life was rough for American soldiers there and, while he didn't agree with the war, he respected them.
They bought us drinks, me included, and I didn't want to offend them by refusing. I did two shots of some gold colored liquid they said came from the Czech Republic. Those two shots put me on my ass and I was done for the night. We made our way back to the hotel (which, while not great, is in the middle of Kyiv. Peace Corps usually puts us in a hotel in BFE and getting there would have required a 20 hrivna cab ride. Thank you, American Councils) and called it a night.
Happy 4th of July!
Monday, July 04, 2005
Ukraine: Denishi (With Pics)
Are you ready for some pictures?
***
Thank you to Bean for hosting the pictures and thank you to all of you that have been reading and commenting. I truly appreciate hearing from you.
***
Denishi:
I have found heaven in Ukraine. I thought I would have to give up climbing for two years for Peace Corps. I rued that I got sent to the northern part of the country, because I hate the cold.
It turns out that some of the best climbing in this part of the world is fifteen minutes from my house.
Welcome to Denishi: a cliff wall hundreds of yards long with more than thirty bolted routes. People from all over Ukraine, Belarus and Russia were there, climbing the routes by day, swimming and fishing in the Teatriv river that winds before the cliff wall, or camping on top of the cliff itself.
Climbing at Denishi--taken by me while climbing
When we arrived, I immedietly wanted to hit the rock, but Carrie insisted that we set up camp first. The Polissya crew supplied us with a tent, a brand new LOAP one. When we found out that they had rented it for us, we insisited that we pay the rental cost, but they repeatedly refused. That is Ukrainian hospitality.
We climbed with the crew that day, the crew did a night swim in the river (it was way too cold for me, so I sat on a rock with Diana and laughed at them as they yelped every time they dove into the water), and then we ended the night around the campfire. My friend Kolia had brought his guitar and I had brought mine, but his was so old we couldn't get it to tune up to mine and so just passed mine around. I played the one of the two Ukrainian songs I know and they sang along, but they didn't know the lyrics to the second. Ironically, they did know the lyrics to "Hotel California", though, so we sang that one instead. They insisted I play some more, so I did a few more songs with Carrie singing, but I felt really weird having ten Ukrainians watch us play songs they didn't know, so I gave the guitar to Kolia.
Kolia on guitar
It turned out he was a fantastic player (so, it turned out, were a few others) and they were all great singers. I sat there for hours, sometimes asking Diana for a translation of this or that word from the songs that I didn't know, but mostly just quietly listening. We went to bed at about two, but the Ukranians, having just pulled out the vodka, kept playing and did so until five in the morning.
Dima, Pasha and Carrie with their headlamps
Diana at the campfire
Carrie, Diana and I crammed into the tent. Carrie and I had each come with a pack full of climbing gear, food, clothes and sleeping bag. Diana had come with a bottle of water and a tote bag. She had brought a sheet, but had no other camping gear whatsoever. I gave her my sleeping pad and slept on the ground, getting one of the worst nights of sleep I've had in a while between the hard ground and the Ukrainians periodically breaking out into laughter.
But no matter, the next moning we were up and climbing (kicking the hung over Ukrainians out of bed) and climbed the rest of the day. It was, in short, amazing.
When I have kids, they're going to be like these two, playing with quick draws while their parents climb the rock
Tired after a route
The Extreme Marathon
The Moby Concert
At the Beach in Sevastopal
Nightlife in Sevestopal
Playing Football and Salsa-ing with Students
Hirsonese: Greek Ruins and Cliff Jumping
Balaclava: 14th Century Castle
***
Thank you to Bean for hosting the pictures and thank you to all of you that have been reading and commenting. I truly appreciate hearing from you.
***
Denishi:
I have found heaven in Ukraine. I thought I would have to give up climbing for two years for Peace Corps. I rued that I got sent to the northern part of the country, because I hate the cold.
It turns out that some of the best climbing in this part of the world is fifteen minutes from my house.
Welcome to Denishi: a cliff wall hundreds of yards long with more than thirty bolted routes. People from all over Ukraine, Belarus and Russia were there, climbing the routes by day, swimming and fishing in the Teatriv river that winds before the cliff wall, or camping on top of the cliff itself.
Climbing at Denishi--taken by me while climbing
When we arrived, I immedietly wanted to hit the rock, but Carrie insisted that we set up camp first. The Polissya crew supplied us with a tent, a brand new LOAP one. When we found out that they had rented it for us, we insisited that we pay the rental cost, but they repeatedly refused. That is Ukrainian hospitality.
We climbed with the crew that day, the crew did a night swim in the river (it was way too cold for me, so I sat on a rock with Diana and laughed at them as they yelped every time they dove into the water), and then we ended the night around the campfire. My friend Kolia had brought his guitar and I had brought mine, but his was so old we couldn't get it to tune up to mine and so just passed mine around. I played the one of the two Ukrainian songs I know and they sang along, but they didn't know the lyrics to the second. Ironically, they did know the lyrics to "Hotel California", though, so we sang that one instead. They insisted I play some more, so I did a few more songs with Carrie singing, but I felt really weird having ten Ukrainians watch us play songs they didn't know, so I gave the guitar to Kolia.
Kolia on guitar
It turned out he was a fantastic player (so, it turned out, were a few others) and they were all great singers. I sat there for hours, sometimes asking Diana for a translation of this or that word from the songs that I didn't know, but mostly just quietly listening. We went to bed at about two, but the Ukranians, having just pulled out the vodka, kept playing and did so until five in the morning.
Dima, Pasha and Carrie with their headlamps
Diana at the campfire
Carrie, Diana and I crammed into the tent. Carrie and I had each come with a pack full of climbing gear, food, clothes and sleeping bag. Diana had come with a bottle of water and a tote bag. She had brought a sheet, but had no other camping gear whatsoever. I gave her my sleeping pad and slept on the ground, getting one of the worst nights of sleep I've had in a while between the hard ground and the Ukrainians periodically breaking out into laughter.
But no matter, the next moning we were up and climbing (kicking the hung over Ukrainians out of bed) and climbed the rest of the day. It was, in short, amazing.
When I have kids, they're going to be like these two, playing with quick draws while their parents climb the rock
Tired after a route
Saturday, July 02, 2005
Ukraine: Is this a Peace Corps Blog?
I have been corresponding for several months now with a person in America who is in the process of applying for Peace Corps. He has a blog with links to other Peace Corps blogs, so I asked him if he would link mine. He respectfully declined, saying that while he enjoyed my blog, it wasn't really a Peace Corps blog, that my blog was not enough about the "Peace Corps job" and was mostly about "parties, concerts, climbing and dating."
I asked myself: "Is my blog really a Peace Corps blog?" because I have always meant it to be one, meant it to allow people to see what at least one Peace Corps experience was like. True, it's full of my travels to other places and my opinions of other things, but at it's heart I thought it was currently a Peace Corps blog.
In any case, in my response to his e-mail I found myself writing a lot of information about my changing understanding of my Peace Corps experience, information that I thought was relevant to helping other people understand was Peace Corps is in the world now, at least from my point of view. Which is why I'm posting it.
***
This was my e-mail in response:
I completely understand, although I think you'll find the majority of Peace Corps blogs are not about the Peace Corps jobs themselves, because those are mostly the same from day to day. Rather, they tend to reflect the person's experience: both thoughts and anecdotes, within the culture. I do try to present Ukraine as much as possible: the last blog talked about the School Leavers ceremony, the meat markets and the Student Republic, all very Ukrainian things. Looking at my last ten posts, they dealt with Peace Corps trainings, cross-cultural problems, the beautiful places I've seen in southern Ukraine and a Ukranian multi-sport race.
I understand where you're coming from, and am not trying to convince you to link to me, but I was surprised that you thought this blog was not about the Peace Corps experience. It surprised me so much that I felt the need to defend it:
My blog is not about Peace Corps per say, but it is about Ukraine, and Ukraine as seen through my eyes. It's not third-person and it's not objective because my Peace Corps experience has been extremely visceral and I want that reflected in the site.
That's what I want people to see about Peace Corps. It's easy to dismiss my blog as "not really Peace Corps", but I think you'll find that better than 80% of the Peace Corps countries are not these poverty-stricken places we envision them to be. Before I joined Peace Corps, I assumed it would be this very spiritual thing, probably living in a hut in a jungle somewhere, helping people as best I could. Instead it's been a roller coaster of experiences and emotions, and the more Peace Corps Volunteers I interact with, even in other countries, the more I realize it's the same. This is not the Peace Corps of the 1960s. We all came in thinking this would be us helping the world. Instead, we found that it was hard to get things done, that we had a lot of time on our hands and that we spent more energy trying to adapt the the country then actually "helping it". So we have all had to re-understand what our Peace Corps experience would be.
I came here thinking I was going to aid Ukraine, that Peace Corps was going to help "fix" it. Ukraine, though, I found, is fixing itself. Ukraine doesn't need Peace Corps or America to "survive", but it can use its help to prosper. English being the lingua franca of the buisness world, that's how I help Ukraine to prosper: by trying to help people with their English as best as possible. But I still don't think that's the most important thing I'm doing here. I think the greatest good I've been doing is to help Ukrainians understand America, to be an American who's not here to make money or get a Ukrainian wife, to use Ukraine for my own sake. Peace Corps is and always has been a diplomatic endevor and the more pro-American sentiment there is in Ukraine, the more our countries can interact with one another and the more peace there can be in the world.
That is Peace Corps now.
I've taught a lot of classes, written a lot of teaching materials, tutored a lot of students and am working on building a climbing wall, but that's maybe 20% of my Peace Corps experience, which is why 80% of my blog is about the third goal: me learning about Ukraine, and hopefully other Americans learning about Ukraine through me. We all think of ex-Soviet countries as these hopeless, grey, downtrodden places. And while Ukraine's infrastructure needs a lot of work, while it has a lot of social problems, it is actually a vibrant country full of parties, clubbing, concerts, climbing and dating. And I write about those because that's what's here and that's what I'm doing.
I hope that teaches people about Ukraine, too.
I realize it doesn't fit well into your concept of "Peace Corps", but it is, in fact, Peace Corps. Thousands of volunteers throughout Eastern Europe, Central Asia and the more developed parts of South American and Africa are all having similar experiences to me. I was initially dissapointed: I wanted the extreme sacrifices, as if that cross to bear somehow made me a better person. But I realized that it should not be about me going: "look at all I gave up to help you" but "let's interact, let me help you as much as I can because I enjoy helping people, and let's have our countries be at peace."
Hopefully you're not taking this offensively. I really am just trying to convey my understanding of Peace Corps and my concern that maybe Peace Corps is not what you think it will be. There is a myth of Peace Corps, and perhaps you will live it. Perhaps you won't. I just don't want you to be disapointed. More to the point, there is no need to be disapointed, because even without the hut and the mashed yams, Peace Corps has been a eye-opening, life-changing experience for me.
And this is my Peace Corps experience, and why you may think my blog is not "about Peace Corps", I respectfully disagree. :-)
BUT: I realize now that people logging onto this site might want more informative articles about Peace Corps or Ukranian culture, and I thank you for that insight. Actually, I already have a couple ideas for specific parts of the culture that I have yet to write about. Those will be interspersed into my more personal experiences in the days ahead.
-daniel
I asked myself: "Is my blog really a Peace Corps blog?" because I have always meant it to be one, meant it to allow people to see what at least one Peace Corps experience was like. True, it's full of my travels to other places and my opinions of other things, but at it's heart I thought it was currently a Peace Corps blog.
In any case, in my response to his e-mail I found myself writing a lot of information about my changing understanding of my Peace Corps experience, information that I thought was relevant to helping other people understand was Peace Corps is in the world now, at least from my point of view. Which is why I'm posting it.
***
This was my e-mail in response:
I completely understand, although I think you'll find the majority of Peace Corps blogs are not about the Peace Corps jobs themselves, because those are mostly the same from day to day. Rather, they tend to reflect the person's experience: both thoughts and anecdotes, within the culture. I do try to present Ukraine as much as possible: the last blog talked about the School Leavers ceremony, the meat markets and the Student Republic, all very Ukrainian things. Looking at my last ten posts, they dealt with Peace Corps trainings, cross-cultural problems, the beautiful places I've seen in southern Ukraine and a Ukranian multi-sport race.
I understand where you're coming from, and am not trying to convince you to link to me, but I was surprised that you thought this blog was not about the Peace Corps experience. It surprised me so much that I felt the need to defend it:
My blog is not about Peace Corps per say, but it is about Ukraine, and Ukraine as seen through my eyes. It's not third-person and it's not objective because my Peace Corps experience has been extremely visceral and I want that reflected in the site.
That's what I want people to see about Peace Corps. It's easy to dismiss my blog as "not really Peace Corps", but I think you'll find that better than 80% of the Peace Corps countries are not these poverty-stricken places we envision them to be. Before I joined Peace Corps, I assumed it would be this very spiritual thing, probably living in a hut in a jungle somewhere, helping people as best I could. Instead it's been a roller coaster of experiences and emotions, and the more Peace Corps Volunteers I interact with, even in other countries, the more I realize it's the same. This is not the Peace Corps of the 1960s. We all came in thinking this would be us helping the world. Instead, we found that it was hard to get things done, that we had a lot of time on our hands and that we spent more energy trying to adapt the the country then actually "helping it". So we have all had to re-understand what our Peace Corps experience would be.
I came here thinking I was going to aid Ukraine, that Peace Corps was going to help "fix" it. Ukraine, though, I found, is fixing itself. Ukraine doesn't need Peace Corps or America to "survive", but it can use its help to prosper. English being the lingua franca of the buisness world, that's how I help Ukraine to prosper: by trying to help people with their English as best as possible. But I still don't think that's the most important thing I'm doing here. I think the greatest good I've been doing is to help Ukrainians understand America, to be an American who's not here to make money or get a Ukrainian wife, to use Ukraine for my own sake. Peace Corps is and always has been a diplomatic endevor and the more pro-American sentiment there is in Ukraine, the more our countries can interact with one another and the more peace there can be in the world.
That is Peace Corps now.
I've taught a lot of classes, written a lot of teaching materials, tutored a lot of students and am working on building a climbing wall, but that's maybe 20% of my Peace Corps experience, which is why 80% of my blog is about the third goal: me learning about Ukraine, and hopefully other Americans learning about Ukraine through me. We all think of ex-Soviet countries as these hopeless, grey, downtrodden places. And while Ukraine's infrastructure needs a lot of work, while it has a lot of social problems, it is actually a vibrant country full of parties, clubbing, concerts, climbing and dating. And I write about those because that's what's here and that's what I'm doing.
I hope that teaches people about Ukraine, too.
I realize it doesn't fit well into your concept of "Peace Corps", but it is, in fact, Peace Corps. Thousands of volunteers throughout Eastern Europe, Central Asia and the more developed parts of South American and Africa are all having similar experiences to me. I was initially dissapointed: I wanted the extreme sacrifices, as if that cross to bear somehow made me a better person. But I realized that it should not be about me going: "look at all I gave up to help you" but "let's interact, let me help you as much as I can because I enjoy helping people, and let's have our countries be at peace."
Hopefully you're not taking this offensively. I really am just trying to convey my understanding of Peace Corps and my concern that maybe Peace Corps is not what you think it will be. There is a myth of Peace Corps, and perhaps you will live it. Perhaps you won't. I just don't want you to be disapointed. More to the point, there is no need to be disapointed, because even without the hut and the mashed yams, Peace Corps has been a eye-opening, life-changing experience for me.
And this is my Peace Corps experience, and why you may think my blog is not "about Peace Corps", I respectfully disagree. :-)
BUT: I realize now that people logging onto this site might want more informative articles about Peace Corps or Ukranian culture, and I thank you for that insight. Actually, I already have a couple ideas for specific parts of the culture that I have yet to write about. Those will be interspersed into my more personal experiences in the days ahead.
-daniel
Friday, July 01, 2005
Ukraine: A Week of Firsts
I know I haven't blogged in a week. It mostly has to do with a lack of available internet and/or not a lot worth writing about. But when I sat down with some free time today, I realized I had done a number of firsts this week:
One, my first School Leavers. School Leavers is prom and graduation rolled into one. Carrie was invited by the students she's been teaching for the past two years and I went as escort. This meant a shirt and a tie for me, as it's pretty formal. After some perfomances by the students (some good, but the most entertaining was a truly bad cover of a System of a Down song; forever preserved on my video camera), they recieved their diplomas and we were all bussed to a restaurant on the other side of town. There, we found four tables, each thirty feet long and piled with food. The students occupied one table, their families and teachers the other three and we were still eating and drinking at 2:00 AM. The party started about then, with the students in their suits and evening gowns moving to the restaurant's dance floor to dance until they "welcomed the morning" and the rising of the sun. And on that next day they would be graduated and ready to enter the real world.
Two, my first visit to the meat market. Up until now, I've been buying my meat at this western-style grocery store that puts the meat in a styrofoam tray and wraps it in Saran wrap, like I'm used to. I realized that most people bought their meat at from vendors at the open-air bazar, but that just seemed unhealthy. The problem is that I've been craving beef and the store has only had chicken and pork, and even then a very poor selection. So I went to the meet market.
There, I found dozens of long, wooden tables covered with every part of an animal that you could possibly consume. Every ten feet or so was a babushka trying to get you to buy this or that cut of meat, and behind them were men and women hacking meat on cutting boards, huge cleavers swining up and down, handing the bloody pieces to the babushkas, who would weigh them and place them on the tables to hawk to passing customers. Lots and lots of unwrapped meat just sitting out. One would think that this would be a sanitation nightmare, but I've been assured by everyone, volunteers included, that this has been working for hundreds of years and it's perfectly safe, possibly safer because the animals aren't raised in factory conditions.
I walked along the tables, looking at all the meat. Everything, and I mean everything was on these tables. Huge cow livers the size of my head, hearts and lungs and tails stripped of the fur. I found stuff that I recognized as cow muscle and, not knowing the terminology, was asking the babushka by pointing at my own body parts to find out where on the cow it came from. Finding some top round, I bought a kilogram of it and picked up some potatoes on the way out. Tonight, I'm having steak and mashed potatoes! And tomorrow, maybe another first: I plan on grinding up some of the meat (something I've never done), and hopefully tomorrow I'll have some cheeseburgers and french fries for lunch! Yes!
Three, I went to my first Student Republic. Student Republic is this huge two-day outdoor festival for university students where they elect the members of their governing council called (you guessed it) the Student Republic. Anyone is welcome to attend, and I was invited along by Diana and Ksoosha. There, the various student groups at the various universities were competing in games (a leapfrog race was one of them), eating, drinking, listening to concerts and riding very, very old amusement park rides. With their rusted metal and sagging wood, they were a little scary, but I rode them anyway. Once again, without the American fear of tort, there were few rules about how one could act on the rides, which is how I found myself on the one that is a bunch of chairs hanging from chains being whirled around (do you know the one I'm talking about?), grabbing the person ahead of me (who happened to be Diana), putting my feet on the back of her chair and launching her forward. This was as per her request, and being done by everyone else on the ride as well.
Diana and I are still in limbo. A few nights ago, we sat on the roof of her seven-story apartment building, me holding her, and we watched the sunset, listening to music on her CD player, each of us with one earphone. If there was ever a time to kiss her, that was it, but I didn't. Selfish as I was being by holding her (which, I realize, may be leading her on), I didn't want to act on my baser instincts by making out or more with her and thus making her think a relationship may be forthcoming. As is, I think we've reached a nice equalibrium. It was a little tense for a while there, those hesitations when we'd part from a hug, wondering if we'd kiss. But that seems to be gone: I don't feel her expecting that from me any more and I don't constantly ask myself if I will do it. For now at least, we seem to just be really flirty friends.
Four, I did my first lead climb yesterday! Carrie, Diana and I had been rapelling down from the top of the cliff, anchored into a tree, and then setting a top rope from one of the metal anchors bolted into the cliff. If you don't climb, top roping is when the rope goes from the climber up to an anchor and then back down to a person who belays from the bottom. Lead climbing is when the rope hangs down from the climber's harness and he or she clips the rope into various points on the way up. Top roping is easy and safe. Lead climbing is more difficult and can be dangerous because when you top rope and you fall, you fall maybe two or three inches. When you fall on lead climbing, you could fall eight to ten feet. We couldn't top rope any more because someone had erected a fence of woven tree branches at the top of the cliff. Probably to protect children from falling over, but also preventing us from rapelling.
So, lead climbing from the bottom was the only option. We didn't have the right gear for it, nor the right rope, but we were short of options. I've been wanting to lead climb for a long time, as it opens up a lot more routes to you (we've been stuck on the same four on this cliff because we were limited to where we could rapel down) but I've never had the gear or wherewithal. Carrie has done a lot of lead climbing and has taken some serious falls and therefore has a healthy fear of it, so the day before yesterday, she was the one to go up and set the top anchor. Yesterday, though, I figured, what the hell? So I did it. And it was easy. It's always been made out to be this hard, nerve-wracking thing, but I simply didn't think about the fall. On one sketchy move, it started sneaking into my head that a fall would really hurt, but I shoved it aside, knowing that thought would probably make me miss the move. As is, I didn't fall, and thought it was a lot of fun. Carrie tells me that I'll also gain a healthy fear when I take my first "whipper", some ten foot fall that swings me hard into the rock face, but until then, I'm enjoying it.
I also had a last today: my last day of teaching at the institute for the summer. I have still have two more weeks of teaching in Kyiv ahead of me, but as of mid-July, I will have a whole month off to travel!
Tomorrow, Carrie, Diana and I are going to Denishi, a local town known for its rock walls to do some climbing with the Polissya crew. They've got a tent for us and after climbing all day we're supposed to camp out. I'm bringing my guitar; should be fun.
Lots of pictures from Crimea, Extreme Marathon, the Moby Concert, the above events and climbing at Denishi should be posted when I'm in Kyiv on Monday. Check back then!
Thanks for reading all this!
One, my first School Leavers. School Leavers is prom and graduation rolled into one. Carrie was invited by the students she's been teaching for the past two years and I went as escort. This meant a shirt and a tie for me, as it's pretty formal. After some perfomances by the students (some good, but the most entertaining was a truly bad cover of a System of a Down song; forever preserved on my video camera), they recieved their diplomas and we were all bussed to a restaurant on the other side of town. There, we found four tables, each thirty feet long and piled with food. The students occupied one table, their families and teachers the other three and we were still eating and drinking at 2:00 AM. The party started about then, with the students in their suits and evening gowns moving to the restaurant's dance floor to dance until they "welcomed the morning" and the rising of the sun. And on that next day they would be graduated and ready to enter the real world.
Two, my first visit to the meat market. Up until now, I've been buying my meat at this western-style grocery store that puts the meat in a styrofoam tray and wraps it in Saran wrap, like I'm used to. I realized that most people bought their meat at from vendors at the open-air bazar, but that just seemed unhealthy. The problem is that I've been craving beef and the store has only had chicken and pork, and even then a very poor selection. So I went to the meet market.
There, I found dozens of long, wooden tables covered with every part of an animal that you could possibly consume. Every ten feet or so was a babushka trying to get you to buy this or that cut of meat, and behind them were men and women hacking meat on cutting boards, huge cleavers swining up and down, handing the bloody pieces to the babushkas, who would weigh them and place them on the tables to hawk to passing customers. Lots and lots of unwrapped meat just sitting out. One would think that this would be a sanitation nightmare, but I've been assured by everyone, volunteers included, that this has been working for hundreds of years and it's perfectly safe, possibly safer because the animals aren't raised in factory conditions.
I walked along the tables, looking at all the meat. Everything, and I mean everything was on these tables. Huge cow livers the size of my head, hearts and lungs and tails stripped of the fur. I found stuff that I recognized as cow muscle and, not knowing the terminology, was asking the babushka by pointing at my own body parts to find out where on the cow it came from. Finding some top round, I bought a kilogram of it and picked up some potatoes on the way out. Tonight, I'm having steak and mashed potatoes! And tomorrow, maybe another first: I plan on grinding up some of the meat (something I've never done), and hopefully tomorrow I'll have some cheeseburgers and french fries for lunch! Yes!
Three, I went to my first Student Republic. Student Republic is this huge two-day outdoor festival for university students where they elect the members of their governing council called (you guessed it) the Student Republic. Anyone is welcome to attend, and I was invited along by Diana and Ksoosha. There, the various student groups at the various universities were competing in games (a leapfrog race was one of them), eating, drinking, listening to concerts and riding very, very old amusement park rides. With their rusted metal and sagging wood, they were a little scary, but I rode them anyway. Once again, without the American fear of tort, there were few rules about how one could act on the rides, which is how I found myself on the one that is a bunch of chairs hanging from chains being whirled around (do you know the one I'm talking about?), grabbing the person ahead of me (who happened to be Diana), putting my feet on the back of her chair and launching her forward. This was as per her request, and being done by everyone else on the ride as well.
Diana and I are still in limbo. A few nights ago, we sat on the roof of her seven-story apartment building, me holding her, and we watched the sunset, listening to music on her CD player, each of us with one earphone. If there was ever a time to kiss her, that was it, but I didn't. Selfish as I was being by holding her (which, I realize, may be leading her on), I didn't want to act on my baser instincts by making out or more with her and thus making her think a relationship may be forthcoming. As is, I think we've reached a nice equalibrium. It was a little tense for a while there, those hesitations when we'd part from a hug, wondering if we'd kiss. But that seems to be gone: I don't feel her expecting that from me any more and I don't constantly ask myself if I will do it. For now at least, we seem to just be really flirty friends.
Four, I did my first lead climb yesterday! Carrie, Diana and I had been rapelling down from the top of the cliff, anchored into a tree, and then setting a top rope from one of the metal anchors bolted into the cliff. If you don't climb, top roping is when the rope goes from the climber up to an anchor and then back down to a person who belays from the bottom. Lead climbing is when the rope hangs down from the climber's harness and he or she clips the rope into various points on the way up. Top roping is easy and safe. Lead climbing is more difficult and can be dangerous because when you top rope and you fall, you fall maybe two or three inches. When you fall on lead climbing, you could fall eight to ten feet. We couldn't top rope any more because someone had erected a fence of woven tree branches at the top of the cliff. Probably to protect children from falling over, but also preventing us from rapelling.
So, lead climbing from the bottom was the only option. We didn't have the right gear for it, nor the right rope, but we were short of options. I've been wanting to lead climb for a long time, as it opens up a lot more routes to you (we've been stuck on the same four on this cliff because we were limited to where we could rapel down) but I've never had the gear or wherewithal. Carrie has done a lot of lead climbing and has taken some serious falls and therefore has a healthy fear of it, so the day before yesterday, she was the one to go up and set the top anchor. Yesterday, though, I figured, what the hell? So I did it. And it was easy. It's always been made out to be this hard, nerve-wracking thing, but I simply didn't think about the fall. On one sketchy move, it started sneaking into my head that a fall would really hurt, but I shoved it aside, knowing that thought would probably make me miss the move. As is, I didn't fall, and thought it was a lot of fun. Carrie tells me that I'll also gain a healthy fear when I take my first "whipper", some ten foot fall that swings me hard into the rock face, but until then, I'm enjoying it.
I also had a last today: my last day of teaching at the institute for the summer. I have still have two more weeks of teaching in Kyiv ahead of me, but as of mid-July, I will have a whole month off to travel!
Tomorrow, Carrie, Diana and I are going to Denishi, a local town known for its rock walls to do some climbing with the Polissya crew. They've got a tent for us and after climbing all day we're supposed to camp out. I'm bringing my guitar; should be fun.
Lots of pictures from Crimea, Extreme Marathon, the Moby Concert, the above events and climbing at Denishi should be posted when I'm in Kyiv on Monday. Check back then!
Thanks for reading all this!
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