Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Ukraine: Couple of Completions

Feel pretty good about this: Two major projects were just finished.

One was a booklet of exercises for teachers to use to train their students for the Olympiads. My coordinator was responsible for one half, and I for the other. Perhaps misinterpreting what was required, I located a number of one-page passages that I thought would interest the students (about bands like Linkin Park or Black Eyed Peas, or things like fashion) and then created orginal multiple choice and true/false questions for them. I also wrote a LARGE number of speaking and writing prompts. I say misinterpreted because my coordinator simply handed me a number of passages with questions that she had photocopied from TESOL books. It was then my duty to type them. Still, I'm proud of the work and the fact that every bit of that book (save an intro in Ukrainian) was typed and laid out by me. It was mass produced today and will be distributed to teachers in the oblast.

The second is what I've been working on since last March: the climbing wall. It is done, it is big and it is beautiful. Thirty feet tall, ten routes and only one of them vertical. Seven are various degrees of back-inclines and two have overhangs. In other words, this ain't your grandma's wall. Don't worry, though, the wall is good for beginners: It is meant to train kids into climbing and because there's not a lot of height, it was important to have the angles and overhangs to keep it challenging.

I'll have pics up as soon as someone I know with a digital camera takes them.

We also bought twenty brand new pairs of shoes and three new dynamic ropes with the grant money and all were abused this weekend by the builders as we tested her thoroughly. The wall, althought outside, has a roof built over it and a plastic curtain hanging from the roof. The curtaine acts as a weather protector and heat trap, and while there was three inches of snow outside and more still falling, we were still able to climb all day. I was given the honor of being the first to climb her. Before me, she was nezaimenoov, a virgin. Now she'll remember me for the rest of her life.

Jay, as requested, the route built with your donated holds is called Rock Dawg, and it's the hardest on the wall: completely back-inclined with five feet of it inclined at 30 degrees. Thanks, man.

The official grand opening is this Saturday, and if all goes according to plan there will be reporters and television crews on hand. The wall will be free to use for those under 21, as part of giving the kids of Zhytomyr a healthier past time that builds discipline, self-esteem and goal-setting.

Have to say I'm pretty proud of it.

Monday, November 28, 2005

Ukraine: Witnesses

Instead of the American missionaries that I had expected (there are some in the city, but I've never met them), Valya came over last night with a guy who studied English at University.

He sat, looking slightly bored, as Valya told me all about God and Jesus, that God is displeased with the evils in the world, that the end time is coming soon and that I should prepare my soul for it, all suppported with passages she that read from her bible.

Whenever she said a word I didn't know, I would glance at the guy, who would translate the word into English. Mostly. Very often he'd have to look it up in a Russian/English dictionary, and I was kind of proud that the words I didn't know were the same ones a University-level English speaker didn't know. So I know now, among others, the Russian words for Salvation, Soul, and Worship. I find it really ironic that the word for "worship" is Poclonitsya, the root being the sound "clone". I doubt they're etymologically related, but it's a good mnemonic and really funny that to "worship" something is to make yourself a clone.

I also found out that they are Jehova's Witnesses, a denomination I find fascinating. When you get a religion degree at a Methodist University--despite Methodists being regarded as fairly liberal--you realize that while you know a lot about theology, world religions and bibilical history, you know NOTHING about other denominations. Maybe they're scared you'll get lured away.

For the record: one grandmother was Catholic, the other was Baptist, and I've never been able to fully shake of the beliefs of either on my path to be coming a narcisist agnostic (my term; it means I believe in God because I want to be important to a higher power, but everything else is still in doubt).

So because of this lack of extra-denominational education, I was thrilled (I know, I'm weird) to have Mormons coming over two years ago to give me their official 12-lesson introduction to their beliefs. Sadly, they were dissapointed when I declined to join their faith, but were probably happy to get out of that den of iniquity.

Two times of their discomfort come to mind. They once asked me if I would forsake smoking. Yes. Alcohol? Since I didn't drink at the time, I again said yes. Perhaps feeling they were on a roll, they asked: Sex? At which point, my then-girlfriend--who was reading a book on the couch --rather forcefull said "no" without even looking up. The other was when my flamboyantly gay roommate--who spent a lot of time leering at these two clean-cut eighteen year-olds--was in the room when they were about to leave and asked if we needed them to do anything. By that they meant chores, something they asked every time they came over. Before I could say something, he said: "I've got something for you do" as he leaned back and regarded them, biting on the tip of his finger. I quickly pushed their mouth-agape selves out the door before they either started spouting scriptures or took him up on it.

And now I get to learn first hand about the beliefs of the Jehova's Witnesses, who I also know have some unique ones: the non-celebration of holidays, the fact that everyone who is going to heaven is already there (saved souls go to some happy limbo), and that they won't accept blood transfusions because they believe the soul is in the blood.

They're coming back over tonight. Should be interesting.

Thursday, November 24, 2005

Ukraine: The Giving War

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!

So there's a sweet old lady named Valya across the landing from me. About a month ago we engaged in a giving war because I had decided to make chocolate chip cookies. Don't laugh.

Anyway, I had no baking soda, and so went to her place to ask to borrow some. I got the same reaction I had gotten from Valentina, the sweet old lady (Ukraine has a lot of sweet old ladies) that I buy bread from. When I was buying vanilla from her, she asked:

"Why do you need it?"
"I am making cookies."
"By yourself?" (Look of sweet old lady doubt)
"By myself."
"Good luck." (Another look of sweet old lady doubt, followed by wondering if she needed to but the firefighters on standby)

Valya gave me the baking soda, then, deciding I was too skinny, and gave me a plate of kasha (boiled buckwheat slatherd with butter). I already had dinner in mind (chicken and mashed potatoes) but took the kasha with the intention of throwing it out because I have found it's impossible to refuse food from sweet old ladies without offending them. While the cookies were baking, though, I got hungry and tried the kasha, found it to be delicious and ate the whole bowl. To thank Valya for her kindness, I brought her a batch of cookies.

Later that evening, there was a knock on my door. Her son was at the door, bearing the plate the cookies came on, now filled with walnuts. He also handed me a bag of cucumbers and a jar of compote (syrupy juice). Apparently Valya and I are now in a giving war.

The war has changed from one of sustenence, though, to one for my soul. Lately, when we've been talking on the landing, the conversations have been about God. Valya is a devout Christian--the kind that stands out in the street in the snow trying to convert people. She's been telling me a lot about Christ, and I've been attentively listening (despite having a religion degree from a Methodist school) because A) she's a sweet old lady and B) it's good Russian practice.

But yesterday, as she was again telling me about Christ, she said that she wanted two of her friends who spoke English to come over and talk to me, and when would I be free? I told her that I enjoyed her company and prefered talking to her. She said they could explain Christianity better to me in my own language, and when was I free?

I sighed and told her Sunday. I was free and it was fitting.

Today she told me they'd be there at 6:00 PM.

I wanted to bake cookies, and now missionaries are coming over. Huh.

Sunday, November 20, 2005

Ukraine: Funeral Procession

Saw my first Ukranian funeral procession a few days ago.
The path I jog takes me out of the city and past a cemetery, and it was as I was cutting through a field now dead in winter that a scene out of a movie happened. It was a bleak, overcast day of gray as they all are this time of year. I was listening to music on my MP3 player, ground rolling under me, when in front was a procession of color. I slowed, then stopped, and removed my headphones, ears met with a sad dirge.

I watched, breathing heavy as the procession followed the curve of the road and passed me, about twenty people carrying wreaths of colorful flowers on stands followed by a flat bed truck. The people glanced at me as I stood there, and I hoped they weren’t being offended.

A glance behind me and up the hill at a lady with a baby carriage who had also stopped to watch reassured me that they weren’t. Later, I found it is in fact rude to move while a funeral procession passes, and I was doing the correct thing.

As the flat bed passed, also covered in flowers, I saw the coffin, a simple wooden box. Then I nearly took a step back when I realized I was looking at the tip of a nose and two folded hands peeking up above the rim. As per Ukrainian tradition, the coffin was taken to the grave open, where the lid would be nailed on and it would be lowered before the watchful eyes of friends and family.

Following the flat bed were a few men carrying beat-up brass instruments, taking a break before they drew in breaths and began to inexpertly play another dirge. Behind them trailed another twenty people, heads down and slowly walking, bundled against the cold. Behind the people slowly drove the red and blue bus that would take them all back into the city.

It was something out of a movie because it was one of those generic American-runs-into-cultural-thing-while jogging-in-another-country moments, and the suddenness with which I was pulled out of my music and motion induced reverie made it surreal as the people slowly passed.

I’ve been watching a lot of the show “Six Feet Under”, loaned to me by a friend, and together the two have got me thinking about death. Not in a morbid way, but just about it and what it means to us.

A lot of the newness and excitement has gone out of the Peace Corps experience, replaced by dreary weather and constant work, but when I wonder that oft-asked question: “if I died tomorrow, would I be happy with what I’m doing today?” the answer is yes.

And while that frozen corpse passed me, I found I was still glad to have a journey to take.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

Ukraine: Couchsurfing Clubbing Climbing Canadians

Ever heard of the Canada Corps? Well, neither had I. You may not have heard of couchsurfing.com, either, but between both I ended up with two girls I had never met before staying the weekend at my apartment.

Couchsurfing.com is a networking website that lets people offer their couches for travelers to crash on and vice versa. I offered up my couch willingly, but never thought anyone would come to Zhytomyr.

Canada Corps is like the Canadian version of Peace Corps, except their volunteers serve only six months, have no centralized leadership in country and get next to no language training. Two girls, Shelley and Amy, are Canada Corps volunteers that live in the oblast next to mine and, finding me on Couchsurfing, came in for a weekend of climbing and clubbing.

It was a rock star weekend: John, a good friend of mine and fellow climbing enthusiast from the same oblast as Shelley and Amy, came in with them and the four of us went nonstop. Three hours after John and the girls got off the marshrutka we were at a rave and stayed there until 4 AM. We were up four hours later and on the rock (wet from a rainstorm and cold) but still had a great day of climbing. We all took a two hour nap, had a pre-party at another volunteer’s apartment (and discovered that there were even more volunteers in town) and then fifteen of us took over a club and didn’t go to sleep until 5:30 AM. The next day: we were woken up by SUNLIGHT! Overcast days have been the norm and John and I were shouting “Blue sky! Blue sky!” and were back on the rock by that afternoon. I don’t think I was really awake while I was climbing, but I’m pretty sure I had a lot of fun.

It was also, sadly, the last weekend of climbing. It’s simply too cold. My hands were numb halfway up any given route and it especially sucked when I was lead climbing. So I’m done for the winter. That is, until we get the climbing wall finished!

Tuesday, November 08, 2005

Ukraine: Cooking Students, Singing Teachers and Hardcore Bladers (Pics)

Lack of internet access (it stopped working at my apartment) and a busy schedule means I haven't been posting as often. But here's some recent highlights:

It turned out my advanced English class didn't know any cooking terms. One lesson we studyed them and the next they came over to my apartment. After reviewing the vocab, I handed them recipes in English and they proceeded to make me chicken quesedillas. Cool teaching method? Slave labor? Po-tay-toe, po-tah-to.

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How many students does it take to chop a tomato?"

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Making tortillas

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One weekend while climbing and camping in Deneshi with some of the Polissya crew, I played an Okean Elzie song. I was disappointed that they didn't know the lyrics. Then I played an American song that they knew almost all the lyrics to. Realizing that most Ukrainians are familiar with it, I know teach the lyrics during my "English Improvement" seminar with teachers. That song is "Hotel California".

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One of the girls in my movie club (I say "girl" but she's my age) is also part of a club of rollerbladers. I met them through her and because one of them had my size blades, I've been skating with them a bit. I used to be an aggressive skater my sophmore and junior years of college, and the lack of practice shows, but it's still a lot of fun. These guys are simply fantastic.

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