·
Friday, 31 March 2006
Internet Center Grand Opening Approaches!
L. has quite a big
party planned for next weekend when the Internet Center has its Official Grand Opening,
which is being held in conjunction with the library’s’ 150th
anniversary.
This is a very big
deal - about 150 invitations went out to people outside the library
system. The crowds include people from
the US Embassy in Kiev, Library Association people from across Crimea and (we
hope) the Regional manager from Peace Corps (Kiev) and our local politicians
and other esteemed guests.
The first activity
of the day will be a bus tour around the city for out of town guests. Around noon the staff Mark has been training
and working with will have the official Grand Opening Ceremony for the Internet
Center. An elegant buffet and social
follows that event. Late in the afternoon,
we will be bussed to the Palace of Culture for the Library Birthday Celebration
program and then we will dine and socialize for several hours at a formal banquet.
We better brush up
on our toasting skills!
Spring is here and the spring cleaning is
underway!
L. suggested Mark
work at home this afternoon since the library smells so bad today. The paint fumes are strong.
The staff is in
the midst of their monthly Sanitation Day activities and this month they are
painting the floors. Yep, librarians,
researches, administrative staff, bookkeepers, etc,. on their hands and knees,
slapping oil-based paint on the floors with 2 inch wide brushes. They paint around the bookshelves.
I try to imagine
this in America – the whole idea of a monthly Sanitation Day makes me smile
somehow. Schools here expect students to
tackle similar tasks. The idea of the
maintenance person or a contracted cleaner is uncommon here. One of those holdovers from the Soviet
era.
In preparation for
the grand opening and the birthday events, the cleaning and fix up pace has
accelerated. There are new sheer
curtains in all the windows and I noticed several new light fixtures throughout
the building.
Life Without E-Mail
Still no e-mail
though the bill was paid days ago.
It has been over a
week since I go my last e-mail “fix” and I am eager for my connection to the
outside world. The library is changing
to a different service supplier so things may change. I hope it is a change for
the better.
Customer service
is a new concept in this country. When
there were no choices people had to put up with inefficient, ineffective
service, but now choices are popping up everywhere!
Mark is Turning Green…
We have a bit of a
mystery here – Mark seems to be turning green.
He suspects the new sheets.
Our new sheets are
a cheerful deep blue with large white daisies scattered across the
background. I have enjoyed them, but
Mark thinks the bedding is the cause for the greenish tinge evident on the back
of his neck and his shaved head. His white undershirts and the inside of his
collars show a greenish tinge too, though he showers and scrubs regularly. So far I seem unaffected.
Perhaps he is just
reacting to too much cabbage in our diet.
·
Thursday, 30 March 2006
Our Potential Peace Corps Birthday
Celebration Plans
English Club met
last night. The group was a genial
collection of diverse ages, but with similar personalities. We had a pleasant discussion about the Peace
Corps: the mission, purpose, how it s organized, the history, and so forth. We did most of the talking however, but we
kept our group engaged.
After the meeting
o pair of rather reticent students approached me and complimented me on my
energy and enthusiasm. They asked if
they could bring friends along next week.
The two came this week as referrals from a twenty-something Peace Corps
Volunteer at a local institute who will soon be departing for the USA and
exploring life after the Peace Corps.
March 1st
was the start of Peace Corps’ 45th year so there is a push to find
ways to acknowledge this milestone. We
hope to involve our English Club in organizing a Texas-style 4th of
July celebration and use that as a springboard for sharing materials on Peace
Corps history and progress in Ukraine.
There will be Mark’s home-made chili and maybe corn on the cob and ice
cream sundaes (IF we can find the moneys for food!) as well as some relay races
and games and some Texas Swing music playing on the computer.
We will try to get
red bandanas, small flags to hand out and maybe a few cowboy hats for the club
members to wear to set the tone. We will
invite people from around the community (the mayor too) who may have an interest
or would benefit from having a Peace Corps Volunteer so in a way this will be a
“recruitment” effort, but generally it will be a celebration of Peace Corps in
Ukraine and the American connection here.
There will be handouts, displays and a PowerPoint show and probably a
short speech or two.
Culture Shock USA
Our Friend L.
arrived at club tonight with a large ar of home-canned apricots for us.
She arrived a bit
late so I did not get a chance to speak to her privately and after the meeting
we could not escape others who were eager to visit informally so I still do not
know the next chapter in the story of the American who came here on a
bride-hunt!
L. was cheerful
and smiling so I suspect things went well.
She pulled a book from her bag and shared it with me. “Culture Shock
USA” is a book from a series that gives traveler insights into the particular
country they plan to visit. L. indicated
that her recent American guest brought the book for her. I smiled and asked if she was planning a trip
to the USA and she smiled and looked away, blushed a bit, and seemed to imply
that it is a possibility. So our soap
opera continues. The “friend,” whom she
met on the Internet, is from southern Colorado.
Culture shock is a high probability!
I had to laugh
when I saw the book, because we own the counterpart titled “Culture Shock
Ukraine” and have recently re-read it.
The author is an American who spent a few years working in Kiev shortly
after Ukraine’s break with the Soviet Union.
While there are some useful insights, it is not well edited and is about
as accurate and disorganized as my notes here in this journal – just one
person’s collection of opinions, experiences with a little research thrown
in. Its primary virtue is that there are
few books available on travel in Ukraine.
Ukraine has been
going through rapid changes so any book would be hard pressed to be accurate
for long. Each day we see new products
available and attitudes changing as television, films and magazines continue to
influence local culture, attitude and expectations.
I borrowed L.’s
USA book to get an idea of an outsiders approach to America and Americans. Mark took our Ukrainian version off to work
with him to share with a club member who was interested in seeing how their
countrymen are represented.
Minding my Knitting - Starting Over
Sigh – the
knitting project I began earlier this week became once again, a simple ball of
yarn. I had almost a meter of scarf on
my needles when I found a fatal flaw. A
dropped stitch on the outside edge laddered down the projects leaving huge
gaps. I investigated the possibility of
repairing the error, but because of the nature of the yarn (very slick,
ribbon-like material) and the large stitch pattern, it seemed best to simply
cut my losses and begin again.
I pat myself on
the back for maintaining my dignity and simply acting, rather than reacting or
mourning the losses. I used a different
stitch pattern for the newly created scarf.
It is moving forward quickly, but I must admit, I do not have the
affection for it that I had for the original.
I am more detached and dispassionate.
Is that a good thing?
Knitting as
psychology….hmmmmm.
Internet Access Today?
It has been over a
week since I sent any e-mail…no Internet access at the library so I have no
connections with the world outside Kerch really. Even with e-mail, our knowledge of what is
going on in the USA is limited and we miss hearing from friends and family.
·
Wednesday, 29 March 2006
Where’s the Camera When You Need it?
Mark had a photo
opportunity yesterday, but it was not so charming and perhaps it is best that
he did not have the camera available. It
is an image he may wish to erase from his mind too.
Walking to work
through the park along the sea a about 8 AM, he came across a family of three –
Father, Mother and a young child of about three. They were seated on a park bench enjoying the
fresh spring air and the bright morning.
A nice moment until they each reached for their beer bottle, the
three-year old included! There is a
moment of culture shock: a child drinking beer and, for that matter, anyone
drinking beer at 8 AM!
On this fine
Spring day, I sit at the desk near the window and have a clear view of
Mitridate Mount in the center of the old city.
In a few weeks, the view will be obscured by fresh, young tree
leaves. A flock of goats grazes on the
steep hillside in a timeless manner that captures my imagination. A photo opportunity. The camera, of course, has traveled to work
with Mark where he is no doubt, documenting progress on the new Internet Center
at the library.
There are so many
delightful images I would like to capture in my camera. The photos are a way of refreshing my
memories in years to come. Of course,
when caught without my camera, I often pause and take a mental picture, framing
the shot in my mind as one might with an older 35 mm camera. (With digitals, people tend to take shots
rather randomly and do the artistic work later on their computer screens – they
go for volume rather than quality).
Goats, in this
urban setting; a pleasant reminder of the past; babies and beer, a not so
pleasant social commentary on the present, but hopefully not on the future.
Power Struggles
No electricity
today. I reframe this potentially
frustrating issue into an opportunity to play hooky from some activities and
indulge in writing a few letters and beginning my Pilates regime.
Solar Eclipse
What began as a
very bright day evolved into a very dark midday. Since I had no electricity and was relying on
light coming through the window I was aware of how uncharacteristically dark it
was becoming. I looked out, expecting
storm clouds, but none were evident. It
was as dark as evening and the sky around Mitridate Mount was an eerie
purplish-blue.
The solar
eclipse! We had a solar eclipse of about
85%!
·
Tuesday, 28 March 2006
Finding Flow…
Friday I received
a bulging envelope from my thoughtful mother-in-law. Among the treasures inside were two pair of
wonderful, fat, smooth bamboo knitting needles, a couple skeins of colorful novelty
yarn and a great how-to knit picture book that has set my heart running.
The book is titled
“Book 2: The Purl Stitch, Becoming Intuitive” by Sally Melville and
Photographed by Alexix Xnakis. Large
glossy photographs show a wealth of really stylish, eclectic clothing projects
– not the typical boring, lumpy garments executed in cheap acrylic yarn that
are often depicted in black and white and available as free patterns at the
local crafts store. (There are plans for
five books in the series.)
It has been hard
to keep my hands off the new toys. I
already have most of a scarf made up from the glitzy purple, gold and turquoise
ribbon yarn. I have also prepared a
gauge swatch hoping to create an elegant sleeveless shirt from some rich
burgundy thread I purchased a few months ago at the bazaar. The book also has a sophisticated and stylish
shawl and a charming short knit dress that are high on my list of projects.
(maybe I can accomplish one of them on the three long round-trip train trips to and from Kiev we have ahead of
us in May – Hmmm…that’s about six (6) days and nights on the rails…yikes!)
The book includes
some meditative sections sprinkled throughout its pages. One of them is a nice discussion on what
Hungarian psychologist Czikzentmilhalyi refers to as “flow.” The author suggests that knitting provides
people with an optimal experience, or flow, which engages them in healthy
ways.
In my experience,
the repetitive nature of knitting soothes and frees the mind in ways that
facilitate creativity and problem solving.
But, knitting an
be a dangerous pastime for anyone with compulsive or obsessive tendencies. It is easy to become absorbed and totally
lose track of time. People will say,
“just one more row and I will quit,” and then continue to click away for
another hour or two.
I like the feeling
of accomplishment when I pause and admire the fabric flowing away from my
needles. There is a magical quality
about the way each stitch builds on another stitch to eventually create
something tangible.
Some people make
knitting look so effortless. I doubt I
will ever achieve that standard. In my
experience, there are few things (if any) I do that are effortless. They all involve commitment, repetition, and
a positive attitude. It also helps to
have the ability to know when to rip it all out and start over or instead to
just happily focus on the hundreds and hundreds of perfect (OK, adequate may be
a better word choice) stitches and overlook the flawed ones.
Thank you
Mother-in-law!
·
Monday, 27 March 2006
Some Post Election Rambling
The
Ukraine Elections were yesterday and it was the first day of Daylight Savings
Time here too.
Friday
the political rallies were at fever pitch.
There are around 48 political parties represented on the ballot and each
faction seems to have very strong opinions to share. For weeks (months?) the television has been
dominated with campaign advertising and political rhetoric. Here in Kerch the public areas were crowded
with small tents staffed with people intent on thrusting pamphlets into the
hands of passersby. This made for some
interesting encounters when we would decline the papers and announce in Russian
that we are Americans and are not allowed to vote here.
The
campaigning groups often hire bands to draw an audience so we have enjoyed
sitting in the square and listening to brass bands and accordion players
harmonizing happily.
Friday
was the last official day for campaign activities so music and firecrackers,
cars with loudspeakers ad people were out and about until long after midnight.
We
were advised by Peace Corps to keep a low profile over the weekend since
tensions could be high.
The
ballot boxes here are large clear Plexiglas containers. The blue trident that is Ukraine’s symbol
adorns the side. Each voter physically
deposits a ballot into the slot on top.
We were surprised to see a police officer and several men arrive in our
courtyard carrying the local ballot box with them. They arrived at our housebound elderly
neighbors door and pounded enthusiastically, waiting for her to appear and to
cast her ballot.
We
are told that most people vote at the local fire station, but it appears that
if the voter cannot come to the ballot box, the ballot box can b brought to the
voter!
So
far, all is quiet here in Kerch. Perhaps
Mark will have political tales to share when he arrives home this afternoon.
Weather & Animal Updates
It
is a glorious spring day! Windows are
open and the flat is filled with sunlight and the sounds from the courtyard and
the street. Birds sing, pedestrians
banter and chat, and the sounds of the sea make pleasing background rhymes and
dogs bark, and bark and bark.
Yes,
the neighborhood puppies and their parents happily bark and bark and bark. They are loud and constant.
As
an observer, I would say the parent dogs have encouraged their progeny to be a
bit overly confident since they are not in the least cowed by the massive stray
dogs who wander through the area looking for scraps and fights. The pups, encouraged by the pack mentality
and the ignorance and bliss of puppyhood, delight in pestering the larger (in
many cases huge) dogs that come into their turf.
So
far, the St Bernards, German Shepherds and pit bills have simply ignored the annoying
yappy-youths. Obviously at this point their
attacks are not to be taken seriously.
At least not yet. I expect one
day they will learn the consequences of bullying behaviour when one of these
larger, more experiences dogs shows them that a bite, is indeed worse than a
bark!
We
have not seen the fourth puppy in over a week.
We have no idea what happened to him.
Life on the street can be challenging.
Since
I have reported on the dog neighbors, I feel compelled (or inclined anyway) to
add some notes about the felines in the kitchen courtyard. I find them increasingly often camped in the
leaves under my kitchen window where they are warmed by early morning sunshine
and protected within the fenced area that is our tiny garden. Their population seems to have dwindled too,
though they may simply have become braver and extended their adventures to
other areas now that snow and ice do not keep them restricted to home.
This
morning there were seven of last year’s littermates snarled up in a cunning
ball of heads and tails as if they were cold.
They sleep in this jumble for long periods and then wake to groom
themselves and each other. It is one of
my simple pleasures to pause in my work, sip some coffee and watch cat life
unfold. (I imagine this is as exciting
as watching paint dry for some people!)
A
handsome elder cat has adopted this gang of youngster cats and stays with them
throughout the day. I enjoy him because
he is handsome and well behaved and seem to be a kind, guardian presence for
the yearling cats. He is a delightful
marmalade cat – arrange guy, as I call that kind of cat. He reminds me of one the cats we got in Spain
– Catt E. Wampuss was a wonderful companion so it is nice to be reminded of
him.
Water Report
We
do have water today after a weekend of intermittent service. A backhoe spent some time in our courtyard
and crews of men were in and out of the several murky manholes, apparently
trying to isolate the problem.
They
were here a few times last week too…this does not bode well, though perhaps it
is part of a spring maintenance plan. We
shall see!
Internet Report
It is the end of
the month again so I was not too surprised when Mark came home with news that
the Internet shut down while he was online Friday. My mail did not go out nor did mail come in
This seems to be
the monthly scenario in this cash economy.
Service is cut off until the cash arrives and no one pays ahead because
in a country where things change frequently and people go for months with out
pay, days with out water or heat, and have lived without choices for so many
years…well…what can I say?
·
Friday, 24 March 2006
Ramblings about life and choices…
One of the things
I have observed in moving about over the years is that each place offers many
new interesting and delightful surprises.
When it is time to leave to make my home in some new place, I have usually
acquired a taste for something I may not be able to find at the next place.
Knowing this from
experience has made it easier for me to leave behind things I cherished and
people I love. Of course people cannot
be replaced, and many things take on a personal value that makes it difficult
to part with them too. I believe it is
because I have had a good life that I am able to move forward with grace and
joy and to embrace a new, expanded life beyond the limits of my immediate
community and culture. Each positive
experience makes me more confident that God provides us with more blessings
than we can possibly comprehend.
Too often we limit
ourselves by allowing fears to rule our lives – we become like the greedy
monkey caught grasping a fistful of treats from inside a jar with a narrow
opening. I am also reminded of the Bible
tale about the individual who buries his coins (talents) rather than investing
them in life.
This is not a
particularly profound observation, but it occurred to me as I read my daily
e-mail digest from an informal group of people who are mostly in the
application stages of their Peace Corps adventures. There is much e-mail traffic about what to
bring along for their 27 months overseas and of course there is sadness about
leaving people behind and fear about what the future holds. (Wait until they have to figure out what they
can bring back from in those same small bags - even harder I think.)
Flying on ones own wings…
Fortunately, most
of the applicants are bravely and happily moving forward, knowing the life
ahead of them will be rich and rewarding, but for many, it is impossible to
break the ties they have woven around themselves over the years. (The ties vary from the obvious to the subtle
– complacency with life, family demands, a narrower sense of home, fears about
supply or safety…)
This learning to
fly on ones own wings is quite a feat, to paraphrase the Oregon state
motto. I borrowed that motto back in
1978 when I elected to put it to the test and joined the US Air Force. (I was happily married, with two small
children, but felt like a panther pacing inside a cage waiting for
release.) It was frightening to see the
earth drop away beneath my feet (figuratively) as I made my way into the clean,
pure air above. Those earthbound below
may have thought it looked easy to soar and glide on the currents, but of course,
the hardest part was deciding to fly in the first place.
For me, that was
the real start. Up until then, my adventures
had been vicarious or passive. Now more
than a quarter of a century later the children are grown and the spouse is
still with me as we fly.
Now I know for
certain that the world holds blessings and joys…the illusions and bad dreams
tat tell us otherwise only have the power we give them. (Hmmm – Think of the woman trapped in Hell in
the movie “What Dreams May Come”… Think of Goethe’s Faust…Think Mary Baker
Eddy’s Science and Health…Jonathan Livingston Seagull…etc. )
This is where my
thoughts are on this bright March Friday in Crimea where crocus bloom and the
spring air is fresh!
·
Thursday, 24 March 2006
Life’s a beach…
I am doing
research on the Kerch area for a tourism website. Today I am learning about the beaches.
In the center of
Kerch, there are no beaches but this is a beach community. There is easy access to the Black Sea, the
Kerch Straits and the more isolated Sea of Azov. The solar light hours in the Strait area (1,790
hours) is higher than the famous resort area of Yalta!
The official
bathing season in the Kerch area for adults begins 21 May and extends until 9
October. Children, I have learned, have
a separate timetable. Children may swim
in this area from 30 May until 14 September.
There are hundreds
of kilometers of virgin beach to choose from and many inviting “pocket beaches”. This is one of the perks of being isolated
here on the tip of the peninsulas (we are on a peninsula of a peninsula
actually!). On one beach there are pines among dunes. This is quite unusual in Crimea. On this end of the peninsula, we do no have
many trees so it is unique in more ways than one.
Then there are
other kinds of beaches.
Nuclear power and nudity go hand in hand…
Cape Kazantip and
the never-completed city of Shcholkino offers a very different beach
experience. Shcholkino (named for the
father of the nuclear bomb and atomic power engineering) began as a community
designed for the workers at the nuclear power plant being built on the
cape. Plans were abandoned in 1998 when
Crimean “Green” Party strikes succeeded in halting the project.
I will quote a part
of a description of this beach extracted from a local guidebook “Time to Come
to Crimea” by I Rusanov: “… For
people with traditional morals it is better to refrain from visiting this place,
such abundance of tattoos, pierced noses, lips, and whatnot, frenzy haircuts,
hairdresses, and such a free nudism you cannot find in any other place within
the borders o well-behaved Motherland….”
The text continues
to describe how “…you will face a number
of ways to have vacations without trunks and panties…”
You can dance all
night on the nuclear reactor, race jeeps all day or enjoy sailboarding,
etc. Oh, there are international biker’s
meetings there too!
Hmm, I wonder if
this all happens during the children’s’ bathing season?
So I continue with
my research and editing. I guess I will have the opportunity to see
what life is really like in a post-soviet era beach town far from the
traditional resort areas in Crimea.
·
Wednesday, 22 March 2006
We woke to the sound of a waterfall.
Mark thought it
was static on the shortwave radio that serves as our alarm clock, but one look
out the window revealed a serious water problem: the intersection is flooded
and water is bubbling several feet into the air in an impromptu fountain! This cannot be good!
A Day in Feodosia…
Tuesday we bounced
along in the back of a bus to Feodosia where Mark was to meet with his Regional
Manager to pick up some medical supplies.
This arrangement meant an opportunity to enjoy the city on the sea on a
bright spring day.
Lunch at Billy’s Saloon – burritos and
enchiladas Crimean style
We lunched in a Crimean
shrine to Texas! Yes, we actually had
nachos, burritos and enchiladas, though if someone had not told us that is what
we were eating, we may not have recognized them as Tex-Mex food. My cowboy spouse and I found a Tex-Mex
restaurant!
When we entered
the restaurant, the waiter quickly guided us back to the entry where the coat
check room was and took our outer garments before allowing us into the dining
room. Mark kept his cowboy hat on.
Once seated in
Billy’s Saloon, we perused the menu and had fun deciphering the names of
Tex-Mex food from written in the Cyrillic alphabet. The wait staff wore jeans and had bandanas
around their necks. The dance floor had
a pole for the dancers who perform on weekends!
This was our first
experience with a theme restaurant here in Crimea. Tourism is growing and in Feodosia, where we
were spending the day, they do get tourists.
In Kiev, the capital, there is a large expatriate community and there
are tourists so when we make occasional sojourns there (24 hours on a train
each way!) we can find some eating places that serve familiar American foods.
There s actually a
TGI Fridays in the heart of Kiev as well as McDonalds and even a few Baskin and
Robbins (haven’t been to B&R yet, but I plan on some Rocky Road when we
head north in May!) establishments! As
the country develops economically, there will be others too. According to the “Kiev Post”, a newspaper
that primarily serves the English-speaking expat-community, IKEA plans to open
its doors here in the next couple years.
I love IKEA!)
We were delighted
to eat the food offerings, though the nachos turned out to be potato chips rather
than tortilla chips and the enchilada was heavy on catsup and had pickled
carrots inside.
The experience
left me wondering how Chinese people in America feel when they dine at a
Chinese restaurant!
Book store visit – Gogol book
On our last visit
to Feodosia, the huge book store we found was closed. This time we had the opportunity and time to
linger. Of course the books are in
Russian and Ukrainian, but there was a small section of materials geared toward
students and/or teachers of English. In these
sections, it is often possible to find a few classic American authors available
in English. DeFoe, O’Henry, Twain are there as well as others. Books are quite pricey by local standards and
after life in America with behemoths like Barnes and Nobles proliferating; it
is hard to be satisfied with what is available here.
We did not come
away empty handed though. Mark found a
book on cave-cities of Crimea and we found a cultural studies book on Ukraine,
which will be useful and interesting. I
splurged on a children’s book with wonderful artwork depicting a classic Gogol
tale we have seen aired in three different versions on Ukrainian
television. The details in the colorful
artwork include all the things associated with peasant life in Ukraine. I hope to find a good English interpretation
of the actual story!
Gogol, in English,
is another author I hope to add to my growing library
Institute visit
We had the chance
to participate in a site-development visit, an interesting experience. We met with the two PC staff representatives
and their driver and went to visit the Institute where some lucky business PCV
will serve for the next couple of years.
We sat in on the interview and toured the facility, but did not get to
see the flat. Our participation was
incidental, since we actually met with them to pick up some medical supplies.
Cemeteries
Early in the day
we found ourselves drawn into a cemetery adjacent to the central bus station
and the bazaar. I am drawn to cemeteries
and seem to find myself wandering around in them in every country I visit.
Cemeteries here
are often crowded together in a way that seems odd to my more regimented
western sense of order. I see the same
chaotic approach to the dachas I see – everything is so close together and initially
seems disorderly or chaotic.
I find some charm
in this really.
People visit
cemeteries and while they are not groomed and maintained in a way that I might
expect with my American perspective, they are lovingly attended. Flowering plants, vines, benches, photos,
bright paint and other details make each grave individual. I guess I might have expected more
regimentation somehow – the influence of all those years of Soviet rule and the
suppression of thoughts. I want to know
more about this aspect of life in this culture.
·
Tuesday, 21 March 2006
A great read – “Master and Margarita” by
M.A. Bulgakov
I am currently
reading a borrowed copy of the classic (and electrifying) novel by self-described
satirist M Bulgakov, “Master and Margarita.”
Clearly this novel requires readers to make notes!
My spouse pokes
fun at me because I cannot seem to read any book unless I have pen in
hand. Yes, I underline, I make parallel
lines down the margins and insert small arrows.
On occasion, I scrawl a few words or simply indicate surprise or
confusion by using the appropriate punctuation mark as shorthand.
This habit is
troublesome if I am reading a borrowed book or one from the library. In those cases, my parenthetical remarks and
observations are noted, rather randomly, in one of my omni-present spiral
notebook. (I am partial to the yellow
graph paper sort and I maintain a small stock of them among my possessions.)
I am delighted to
finally lay hands on this particular book with its detail of Soviet live in the
1930’s - a totalitarian culture that precluded this noel from even being
published until decades later. It is
playful reading with surprising plot twists and elements of fantasy, yet it presents
issues of personal responsibility and reconciles philosophical opposites that
leaves a reader changed. The novel can
be read and enjoyed as simply an unusual story, or one can interpret the
allegories and allusions that are layered into the narrative. There is magic and moonbeams, a talking cat,
monologues by Pontius Pilate, and references to philosophy and religion and so
much more, and all artfully woven together with irony, humor and great skill.
Bulgakov, a
Ukrainian author born in Kiev in 1891, wrote this novel knowing it would
probably never survive the censors, but he attempted to circumnavigate them
through artful and ingenious handling of the controversial ideas he wanted to
explore and share. The expression to
“write for the drawer” was an accurate description of how many writers and
thinkers of that period managed to survive.
This author will
merit a shelf in my library.
Two other M.A.
Bulgakov books I hope to obtain are “Heart of a Dog” and “White Guard”.
·
Friday, 17 March 2006 – St Patrick’s’ Day
Living like the locals – less is more!
As I washed my
dishes in wonderful hot, soapy water this morning (after a day without water)
my mind traveled many places. First, of course,
I counted my blessings and my gratitude was compounded as I thought about our
friend T who is moving today.
T. has been living
in a private home with a lovely yard, but no indoor plumbing. He hauls water from the well, has an outhouse
and heats his home with coal. As you can
imagine, he is careful in his habits in order to reduce the amount of work
involved in food preparation and clean up and washing clothes and bathing, but
it is still a significant amount of work for those of us accustomed to a
different life style.
Friend T. is moving
to an urban area and will live in a flat with more amenities. I will miss his occasional overnight visits
where he enthused over our hot water and tidy bathroom. He will not miss the practical experience on
living modestly, but he will miss the garden filled with fruit trees, nuts and
berries, and he will miss the wonderful network of friends and neighbors he
cultivated during his tenure in the village he called home.
The logistics of
life here can be amazing. We have few
dishes here and just enough cutlery to get by actually. We have fewer clothes, so there is never much
laundry. This is good because in the end
it is less work to maintain than if we had a more generous table setting or a
larger wardrob. With a limited number of
dishes, washing them never takes long and we certainly do not need a dishwasher
and the same holds true with our laundry!
It never takes long!
In part, we keep
it simple here because we are here for only another 14-16 months here. Then we will have the difficult chore of
deciding what to keep and how to dispose of all the errata we have and will accumulate. We can leave with only what the airlines
allow us to carry.
We also came here
expecting to live like the local people, so we could learn more about what
makes them who they are.
Our local friends
and acquaintances have formed opinions on Americans from television, books and
films and an occasional encounter with a tourist or a missionary. They watch us carefully. We try to be circumspect in our habits, but
often find ourselves painfully aware of how much energy we use, what foolish things we buy, how much trash we
generate and how accustomed we are to throwing money at problems.
I remember feeling
a bit foolish at our initial host family home because I had several pairs of
shoes and so many changes of clothing.
The local people manage to be clean, neat and professional with far
fewer choices at their disposal. (Of
course I know they would probably like to have more, yet years of living
frugally and carefully makes our abundance seem pretty frivolous.).
Years ago in Spain
(under the Fascist rule of Generalissimo Franco), I would observe people going
through our trash. In our privileged
American way, we often disposed of items that are useful and valued by others
who strive to make ends meet under such difficult circumstances.
The same is true
here. We dispose of simple items like
plastic bags, card board boxes, paper with writing on only one side, jars and
bottles, broken toys, and all kinds of other items.
While many PCVs
see their role as someone who can bring something to the table, they may be
surprised at the banquet of opportunities that awaits them. Their little American casserole of money and
technology and strong opinions may look pretty meager next to the bounty of
offerings awaiting them.
In living like the
locals, observing how they handle daily activities we really can learn some
valuable lessons. And by adopting some
of their attitudes we find new priorities that make life more about
relationships than about things.
By living a more
humble lifestyle I find I earn the respect of the local people and they are
more inclined to listen when I have something to share.
As I washed my few
dishes this morning, I used methods I learned from my earlier experiences in
Spain when water supplies were erratic and hot water was a luxury. The process
worked well - I ran out of hot water, just when I rinsed the last plate!
Housework quickly done,
time to play on this Friday when everyone is Irish!
·
Thursday, 16 March 2006
No Water
I malingered too
long at the breakfast table. By the time
I paused from my morning read (a couple Newsweek articles and a couple columns
from the Christian Science Sentinel are my breakfast companions most days) and
strategy planning (I make a “to do” list most days), it was already 10 AM!
I decided to put
water on to boil for the thermos of coffee I like to have around all day and
while it heated up, I would brush my teeth, etc and get dressed.
I turned on the
tap. Nothing came out. Sigh.
“Rats!” I thought,
unhappy that the electric hot pot did not have any residual water in it this
morning. I thought I had learned to
refill it automatically when I empty it - just in case.
Of course I do
have some bottled water around so I can brush my teeth and scrub my face and
yes, I can make coffee, but there is always that lingering fear that the water
may not return for days or weeks. It
happens around here and it happens fairly often.
The library
director was without water for three weeks this winter.
People who live
like this learn to be flexible.
People do not talk
about it, in much the same way people in snowy, cold places do not ever really
complain about the snow and cold.
During summer
months, the water is off more often.
This is when they do the repairs.
·
Wednesday, 15 March 2006 – The Ides of
March
The Ugly American Visits
We just got home
from English Club where the evening took a strange twist - ended up running
shotgun on an ugly American who came to Kerch on a bride search and managed to
chug too much cognac, flash cash and make himself look pretty stupid between
his limited Russian skills and his drunken, obnoxious behavior. We stuffed him into a cab and hope for the
best.
I know this man is
probably quite charming under normal circumstances, but as we stuffed him into
a taxi, I was not too certain about that.
When we arrived at
English Club we were met at the doorstep of the library by one of the regulars
who had an American tourist in tow. It
was obvious right away the American was feeling pretty uncomfortable and stressed,
but some people may have perceived his abrupt behavior and aggressive manner as
rudeness.
He seemed
dismissive when I initially introduced myself – I got that, “you are merely a
woman and an old one at that, therefore of no particular use or value to me, so
beat it” attitude from him that some guys just seem to emanate. (Do they not know or do they not care or do
they actually cultivate this?) He barely
looked at me and did not acknowledge my greeting or handshake. (Hmmm, perhaps I am invisible, I thought, as
he looked past me!)
I decided to
simply escape the encounter and left my spouse behind to deal with this
man. Mark concurred with me later, when
we had a chance to talk, but Mark did not think his boorish start to the
evening was merely gender or age bias.
No, my spouse was concise in his choice of words, “this guy is a jerk.”
It went downhill
from the start, and the next few hours were tough to navigate. I will spare the reader the details of our
sorry evening with this ugly American, but drunken boors are more challenging
than just regular boors.
It is hard to
discount his behavior tonight, but he could be under considerable stress, but
he did little to win me over.
We will see about
his character in the way he handles himself in the next few days I guess.
Maybe, if we are
lucky, we will not encounter him again at all.
·
Tuesday, 14 March 2006
Vinyl Tablecloths and Choices
This morning as I
sip my coffee I am reminded of my mother.
What was the trigger? The practical
yellow plastic tablecloth that brightens my humble kitchen here in Crimea by
the sea makes me think of Mother. When
we were out shopping, Mother always seemed to be on the look out for an
oilcloth tablecloth for the stark, enamel kitchen-table in the big yellow house
on Eighth Street
At the time, I was
disdainful of even the term oilcloth.
The word seems archaic. Wouldn’t
plastic or vinyl be the appropriate term?
And why would anyone want a stiff plastic tablecloth? Why not fabric? I would remain silent as Mother consulted the
clerk. “Oilcloth is easy to keep clean,”
Mom said to the clerk, as her search continued, “and the colors stay bright.”
I recently had tea
in the home of one of my Crimean friends.
We gathered around the kitchen table, sipped hot, sweet tea, indulged in
rich, dark chocolates and slices of a cream filled pastry, while we talked.
L. set down her
cup, fingered the bright vinyl table covering and admired it, “Oh how pretty
and so easy to clean!” Then she looked
at me, tilted her head, and asked, “Do you have these in America?”
I paused.
I love table
linens and tablecloths. In my South
Carolina bungalow far, far away from Kerch, I have a about fifteen or twenty
tablecloths – dinner-party-elegant to picnic or tailgate party depending on the
requirements. I also have dozens of
napkins from playful cows grazing on a field of bold red to crisp white Battenberg
lace. There is also a drawer where
dozens of placemats wait to serve o days when the mood strikes me.
Yes, I have quite
an inventory of tableware, but I do not have a vinyl tablecloth.
My mind wandered
back to one of my first visits to a bazaar here in Ukraine. My host family took Mark and me to the local
open-air market on a snowy cold day when everything seems to have stepped out
of a black and white movie. The venders
had their fur hats pulled down over their ears and their collars were turned up
to foil the wind.
T., red-cheeked
and happy, hustled around from vender to vender making her weekly purchases and
showing off her American guests to her friends and acquaintances. After a stop at the fish market where she
pulled a plastic bag from her purse to wrap up her purchase, we bought some
sour cream, which the vender ladled into a jar T. also brought with her
Then, oblivious to
the snow and ice, T. quickly wound us through the crowds and stopped at a
vender who had roll after roll of vinyl.
The large bolts of vinyl strewn with bright sunflowers and hot peppers
clashed with the grey day. T. smiled as
she examined what was available and made her choice, a rather sedate brocade
pattern in a pale strawberry pink. The
vender cut the required amount from the bolt and T. carefully counted out the
coins and placed them in his hands. She
tucked her special purchase in her bag and we made our way home.
Small pleasures,
bright colors, and choices. I have had
them all my life. Some people have not.
I suddenly
realized that the simple vinyl tablecloths are a symbol of a better life. Something inexpensive and practical, yet
bright and comforting in a world where there are not always choices. A step up from a bare table.
“No,” I answered
L, breaking out of my reverie, and smiling at her, “We don’t.”
And I just left it
at that.
My Morning Pages – What is the Point?
The stuff I spew
out here is just ramblings that pop into my head as my fingers race across the
keys. This is intended to be a kind of
morning calisthenics that gets my brain moving and the blood pumping so I can
move on to other writing projects. Of course,
it does not always work that way.
Some days I find
myself logging the events of the day and other times I latch onto a thought and
just let it fly while I try to keep up on the keyboard.
The original goal
was simply to articulate whatever went through my brain for 15 minutes at the
start of my day. (Read J. Cameron’s book
on creativity and find the “morning pages” exercise – Hmmm, I cannot remember
the name of her book!)
It has morphed a
bit I guess, but I still freewheel my way through this exercise on a daily
basis and thoroughly enjoy myself in the process.
·
Monday 13 March 2006
The Business of Life - What is My Business?
These days I often
feel filled with ideas. I feel as if I
have helium inside me and may go aloft at any moment; like a buoyant balloon. Life has so much to offer and I seem so aware
of all the wonderful options available.
Today I go about
my household routine after a few days’ hiatus and keep stopping to make cryptic
notes about some idea that pops into my consciousness. This is not so unusual, for me, at
least. I am not now, nor have I ever
been a particularly linear thinker, worker or manager.
I prefer to
multi-task or I become like a fish in a bathtub going round and round,
occasionally (often) splashing water out on the floor as I make quick turns and
swish my way back to the other end, only to discover I am still in a bathtub
and not in a sea. (The fact that my MA
is in organizational management makes me laugh at times – striving to impose
structure on any organization is a huge endeavor and the most successful in the
field seem to rely on intuition as much as science…but then, isn’t intuition
akin to what Mary Baker Eddy, the founder of Christian Science, says about
angels – they are simply God’s thoughts passing to man. But, I digress)
I do like to
observe organizations (see above) and the behavior of people (yep the undergrad
is in psych) consequently I have collected quite a long list of observations
concerning work, leadership, management and processes. It is these thoughts that drive me back to my
notebook to scrawl yet another almost unreadable though down on paper before
resuming m original task.
I have yet to
write the article, but before writing it, I consider my potential audience. I want the material to be available to my
Peace Corps comrades (what a Crimean choice of words!).
I consider (have
considered) writing business articles for the Ukraine PCV’s unofficial
newsletter. That forum for my articles
is not entirely appropriate though. Since
I am now only an “associate” member of Group 28 and/or Peace Corps, I feel
constrained; I am overly conscious of a need to keep a fairly low profile since
I am not officially part of the organization anymore. I do not wish to endanger the position of
anyone in Mark’s food chain (including Mark).
No, I am not part
of the team. I am, instead, a real
volunteer, having financed my own return here following my medical separation
from Peace Corps last summer. This opens
some doors, but certainly closes others.
My conscientious
concern about policy and appearances is elevated since we anticipate new
leadership at the Ukraine headquarters offices in the next few months. I have some angst regarding how the newcomers
will regard my status (or non-status).
Yes, I live in a
rather ambiguous situation, but then, don’t we all?
If there is one
thing my life has taught me in recent years, it is this: we do not know what is
ahead.
This realization can
be frightening or exhilarating or of no concern. We can choose how we will feel about our
future, but ultimately we can do little to change some of the events. Any sense of real control is actually an
illusion. It is important to remember
that some of the events one would not choose to experience may eventually
become an unexpected source of blessings.
Dealing with death
and dying, disease, disappointment – these things may slow us down and cause us
to stumble on our path, but the path remains and we can continue it with joy,
grateful for the beauty that has been ours and aware of how important it is to
go forward, to share with impunity, to live graciously with exuberance, and to genuinely
care. (I’ve learned to understand the
phrase, “I will not let thee go, except thou bless me,” and the Bible story
behind it and I am even more responsive to the complex and essential messages
shared by the authors of such children’s books as the Narnia series and “The
Little Prince.”)
Well, I have
clearly taken another track as my fingers dance across the keyboard this
morning. I sat down musing over a list
of about thirty amusing leadership and management maxims I have jotted down
over the past few months, but clearly, my head, or my heart, wants to spill
other thoughts onto this computer screen.
My spirit of
optimism, joy, enthusiasm and gratitude dominate today. Who knew that life could be so good? I will continue to go about my tasks and let
my helium balloon-ideas carry me somewhere unexpected. The article will be written and an audience
will be found.
·
Saturday, 11 March 2006
Teenage Beauty Queens in Crimea
The auditorium was
packed. Friends and family members came
prepared with bouquet of flowers for the beautiful young hopefuls gracing the
stage.
The Miss
Gracefulness of Kerch contest began and we were among the eager spectators
watching as the contestants performed. Two of the young women are members of our
English Club, secondary school students who love fashion and have such an
infectious joy for living.
We did not know
when we accepted the invitation to attend, that we would be viewing a beauty
pageant. We thought it was a fashion
show.
The participants
are lovely. They are fresh and
young. Much of their beauty comes simply
from the radiance of youth and not any particular structure or sophistication. It is fun to see these young girls laughing,
smiling. I view them almost as one does
a bunch of playful puppies or kittens.
Each is unique and charming. How
can one ever say, “This one – you are the most beautiful, the best, the
winner!”
I do not like
these contests. I do not want to see the
light go out in the eyes of those who do not “win”. I hope there will be no tears or worse, the
faces that harden and grow cold, because a part of them feels they are somehow
not good enough.
The evening
unfolds much as beauty pageants everywhere do.
There are dance numbers that make me uncomfortable as I watch them
perform in suggestive or revealing, costumes that make me think of scenes from
films like “Striptease”. Some of the
fathers and brothers and male friends avert their eyes, probably not knowing
where to look as the nubile girls go through their paces on the stage.
Young girls with
“new equipment”…they often mistake tawdry and cheap for sophisticated and
glamorous. In a country where spike
heeled leather boots, micro-min skirts, colorful eye-makeup and flowing hair
are the norms, these young teenage women have no skill at distinguishing the
difference between beautiful, sophisticated, stylish, seductive, sensual,
sexual, flashy, cheap. Costumes are
tight, garish. You sometimes do not see
the girl; instead, you see only the costume.
There are not many
smiles. Shouldn’t they be having fun?
We have observed
that people here do not smile like American counterparts do. In fact, they are a bit skeptical about those
foolish smiling Americans. During photo opportunities,
our Ukrainian friends do not smile and they seem to avoid smiling on the
street. Smiles are shared with immediate
family and friends. Ukrainians smile
often and sincerely, they are just careful about who they share those smiles
with!
The look they seem
to strive for is the bored, almost jaded, expression of a runway model.
The judging
finally concludes. One of our young
friends was runner up. We were delighted
because it had seemed unlikely she would be selected. She is a beauty, but has a frightened self-consciousness
that might have undermined her chances of winning. It was a pleasure to see here look of
surprise and delight. She beamed.
Our other young
friend was a confident, happy participant who throughout the whole evening
seemed to simply enjoy the entire experience.
She seemed as comfortable and relaxed on the stage as she would be
walking up Lenin Street with her friends on a Saturday evening in May. She flashed her smile and acknowledged her
adoring fans with a nod of her head as she went confidently and comfortably
through her paces. She had fun. Winning would merely have been icing on the
delightful piece of cake she was happy to share with her friends on the stage.
We were relieved
to see our two friends so comfortable about the event. Not everyone walked away smiling. Several young beauties, struggled to remain
composed. Exhausted from hours of
performing and weeks of preparation, the news that seemed to say to them “you
are not good enough” was devastating.
These girls were quick to disappear when the show was over.
The girl who won
the event was a frighteningly cold competitor.
Her face was an unsmiling mask. She
did not seem to allow herself to show her happiness even when she won. Perhaps she was already plotting how to win
the next competition. I could not look
at her for long.
I had a quick
image of the wicked stepmother in the tale of Sleeping Beauty. She gazes into the mirror and is never
pleased with the image she sees and she does not trust the words she hears from
the mirror itself.
Sometimes women
forget, there is life outside the mirror.
I was glad to
leave the auditorium when the event ended.
Beauty pageants, in any culture, are the same – there really are no
winners.
·
Wednesday, 8 March 2006 – International
Women’s Day
Mark headed off to
work with his 25 pretty, red-tulle-wrapped bags of chocolates and his 25
handcrafted, beribboned bookmarks with the hand-illuminated roses ready to
delight and bedazzle the ladies of the Kerch library staff on this gray
International Women’s Day morning. He is
now back at home after standing outside in the cold waiting for the library to
open. The staff usually arrives around 9
AM and the library opens to the public around 11 AM so when the doors did not
open at 9, Mark assumed they would be open at 11 and patiently waited with his
bag full of small gifts.
There were no
signs posted indicating the library would be closed and he had not heard any
indication of the possibility yesterday so he waited, half expecting someone to
arrive and let him in. He surprised me
by showing up at home at about 11:45, looking rather dejected and feeling
rather foolish and a bit disappointed since he could not present his thoughtful
gifts to the nice women he works with.
Just another
example of how cross-cultural experiences can unexpectedly hit you between the
eyes occasionally. The PCV mantra for
days like this is: “I can handle ambiguity!”
The streets are
almost deserted on this holiday that embraces the magic of both Mother’s Day
and Valentine’s Day here in Crimea. When
I see people out and about they are dressed well and invariably carry a bouquet
of flowers since they are no doubt enroute to some women’s home to honor her on
this special day.
Mark observed that
he saw men on the street early today, breakfasting on chips and cans of beer
since on International Women’s Day, the women do not cook. It is the one day of the year that the men
prepare the meals.
Mark also observed
that he would prepare my meals for me today as a special surprise and would
give me time to read and relax to do as I please. In other words, business as usual for
me. I am well taken care of and believe
me, I am grateful for the man in my life and I am grateful for my life
too. I say this as I sip my coffee and
indulge in a few pieces of rich dark chocolate and let my eyes take pleasure in
the three bold yellow tulips that grace our humble kitchen table on this
special day.
Footnotes on the History of International
Women’s Day
(Source: www.bogdana.net)
In springtime in ancient
Rome, free men paid homage to their wives, showering them with gifts and
love. The women dressed up, put flowers
in their hair and went to the temple to worship the Goddess Vesta, keeper of
the family hearth. On this day, these
generous and privileged women gave gifts to their slaves and give them the day
off.
This lovely spring
ritual evolved into a political holiday over the years and then it became once
again, a day to honor women.
The political
version began on 8 March 1857 when female textile workers in New York City
staged a street protest over working conditions. Years later on 8 March 1908, the
granddaughters of these revolutionary women rallied. This time the demands included women’s
suffrage (the right to vote) and a ban on child labor. In 1909, in support of these strong women,
the Social Party of America proclaimed the last Sunday of February as National
Women’s Day. Then in 1910, at the
International Conference of Women in Copenhagen, 8 March was finally proclaimed
International Women’s Day as an annual memorial of those civic-minded women who
rallied in New York City back in 1857.
(Klara Tsetkin proposed it.)
In Russia, the 8th
of March has been celebrated as International Women’s Day since 1913. Historically women were honored with gifts,
flowers, chocolate and respect. During
Soviet times, the newspapers typically ran stories about heroic mothers.
This holiday
continues to be extremely popular among all the countries that were formerly
part of the USSR.
No one believes us
when we say it is not celebrated in the USA.
It certainly is a
tradition here in Kerch, Crimea!
·
Tuesday, 7 March 2006
The Eve of International Women’s Day
Oh my, I think we
may have underestimated the power and significance of International Women’s
Day!
My tip off? Well, I heard a group of people singing
loudly as they walked down the middle of our street, totally oblivious of cars
and the barking dogs that trailed them.
I went to the window and saw several well dressed, smiling women each
with a beribboned long-stemmed rose.
The women strolled
along; arms linked in the way of schoolgirls in bygone days and sang as loudly
as they could. I suspect the singing and
merriment was fueled (in part anyway) by some early morning toasting.
Just as I opened
the shade, I saw one of the neighborhood men approaching the happy sisterhood
of women. He doffed his cap and bowed
deeply then spoke a few well-chosen words about how beautiful the bevy of women
was. When he stood beaming at the ladies,
he received a flurry of kisses.
Before I could
synthesize what I was seeing, I heard a tap at my kitchen window and looked up
to see S, the manager of the store next door and the woman who collects our
rent each month. I went to the outside
door and let her in. She beamed at me
and shot some rapid-fire Russian while I tried to pick out recognizable
words. (Did I hear the word sister and
tomorrow?) Before I quite got the gist
of the one-sided conversation I was being bear-hugged, my face pressed firmly
between S’s fur collar and hat and my back beaten with affectionate pats. She released me and headed upstairs to read
the electric meter, while I stood there a bit dazed and confused.
Then light bulb in
my head went on as I suddenly remembered reading that in the workplace, gifts
and acknowledgements for International Women’s Day should be given the day
before. (Poor Mark, I thought! His rather American offering for this holiday
is here at the flat waiting until tomorrow.)
The big event is
tomorrow, but already I see we are not prepared for the magnitude of this celebration,
which is not just Valentine’s Day, but also Mother’s Day too. There is nothing low-key about it! This is not just a private celebration, but
it extends to the workplace as well.
“Toto, we’re not
in Kansas anymore,” I say aloud as the enormity of the event dawns on me.
We are so naïve.
I suspect the
gesture Mark and I conjured up which seemed clever at the time, may lose its
shine in the light of day tomorrow.
There are 25 women at his work place, plus the director, and his tutor
not to mention people at the Peace Corps offices and others.
Usually the men in
a workplace get together and organize a tea with food, tortes, chocolates and
champagne. They probably recite poems
and sing sentimental songs. There may be
French perfume and bouquets of flowers (always an odd number of blooms because an
even number is only for funerals!). They
are well schooled in the cultural norms and expectations (i.e.: never give
women red carnations since they are a flower associated with politics and
men). Unfortunately, Mark’s workplace is
devoid of fellow men.
This is compounded
because he just had a pricey tea to mark his birthday just a couple weeks ago.
Last year at this time,
we were newly arrived in Ukraine and safe in the bosom of our host family’s
cozy home. Our language/cross-cultural
trainer and our technical trainer both coached the men in our group on the
significance of this holiday so they at least showed up with a flower and a
chocolate bar for these women and also for their host mothers.
In typical
American style, the men were confident that it is the thought that counts.
Not really. Not here.
I was caught off
guard when I showed up for breakfast in my usual jimmies and met my host, N
showered, shaved and smelling of aftershave; looking rather dapper in a sport
coat and proffering me a bouquet and a gift.
I suspect our
trainers were a bit disappointed with the single red carnations and the local equivalent
of the Hershey bar each of the three guys in our group presented them with. Boyish charm and being a foreigner only get
you so far!
I am glad I am a
woman so I don’t have to deal with it!
And maybe, just
maybe, I’ll get some flowers out of the deal!
·
Monday 6 March 2006
March - the Month of Birches
Here in Crimea,
among the Russian population, the month of March is pronounced Mart
(transliterated). In the Russian
language, the months have roots in Latin and when pronounced are recognizable to
English speaking people. (Reading them
in Cyrillic, either block and especially cursive, is another story - actually
Russian is another story today.)
This morning I am
thinking about how lovely the names of the months are in Ukrainian. The Ukrainian people waxed poetic when they
named the months. March is berezen, the
month of the birch trees. This time of
year, the “juice“ of the birch tree flows, a sure sign of spring. What a lovely image is conjured up and the
name seems appropriate.
Other months have
pleasing names. A list of dull Russian
and delightful Ukrainian months follows in transliterated format:
English Russian Ukrainian Definition
January yanvar sichen Month of slicing (wind)
February fevral lyuty Month of anger
March mart berezen Month
of birch trees
April abril kviten Month
of flowers
May may traven Month of grasses
June iyun cherven Month of redness (fruit ripens)
July iyul lypen Month
of linden trees
August avgust serpent Month of syckles (harvest)
September sentabr veresen Month of heather
October aktabr zhowten Month of yellow colors
November nayabr lystopad Month of falling leaves
December dekabr burden Month soil freezes
In many ways
Russian and Ukrainian are similar, but at surprising points they depart on their
own paths and the diverging paths are significant. The challenge is not only for the individuals
living in this culture. The national
language issue is becoming a controversial topic politically (and economically)
as this young democracy attempts to pave a single path.
On the surface,
the issue seems simple, but the roots are convoluted and strong. Economics and politics – money talks. What language will it speak here in Ukraine
and the Autonomous Republic of Crimea? I
do not know.
I am no expert, but
part of the challenge is Russian has been the language of business and a large
percent of the population speaks it at home.
With Ukrainian as the national language, schools must conform with
teaching in Ukrainian and media must produce in Ukrainian. If Russian is labeled as the secondary
language, the school curriculum has a challenge since English is often the
second language student study. English has
become an essential skill for professionals in all fields. The established culture of the Ukrainian
language is small so there will be large economic challenges to face.
Belarus struggled
with this issue and eventually decided to adopt Russian as their language.
Spring is here in Ukraine
and Crimea and that is true regardless of which language one speaks. The seasons are grouped by month rather than
by the equinox. Winter begins on 1
December and extends until 1 March when it is spring. Summer begins 1 June and ends with the first
day of autumn on 1 September.
Outside in our
courtyard, the birch tree is swaying in the wind and the sun shines
brightly. On this gusty, fly-a-kite kind
of day, it feels like springtime has arrived, in any language!
·
Sunday, 5 March 2006
Making Kvas!
Some things remind me how
far from home we really are. One of those
is kvas.
There really is nothing
quite like kvas! According to author
Helen and George Papashvily in their book, Russian Cooking, kvas” has
never enchanted many non-Russians.” That
is no doubt an understatement but despite this faint praise, kvas was an
important component of the early peasant diet.
Why? Not only is it cheap and
easy to make, but the yeast actually acts as a nutritional supplement to
limited diets. Kvas improves digestion
and buoys the human spirit too. It will
quench your thirst on a hot day and innovative cooks have found they can
incorporate kvas as a wonderful soup stock.
The consensus among the diverse group at English Club here in Kerch is
that it just plain tastes good!
For the uninformed, kvas is
a mild beverage made from fermented bread.
Yep, you read that right: fermented bread!
It is definitely a Russian
drink, and quite popular in Ukraine too.
As summer rolls into the neighborhood, so do the kvas tanks! Thirsty crowds queue up, coins in hand, eager
to chug glasses of this unique beverage.
The best kvas comes from the street vendors, but in recent years local
stores stock large plastic bottles of it.
The stacks of bottles make me think of good old A&W Root Beer.
If you cannot wait for the
street venders to arrive and your local store does not stock this unique
beverage, you can make it yourself. It
is a simple process. Long ago
enterprising peasants discovered they could simply soak leftover bread in hot
water, allow it to ferment for a couple hours, add some kind of sweetener
(sugar, fruit or honey usually) and the end result was a hearty, effervescent
brew they could drink on the spot or bottle for a later occasion.
If you would like to
experiment with making a batch of this traditional beverage here are some
guidelines I have extrapolated from several sources. Like many homemade specialties, everyone has
their own “secret” recipe or “special” method and often are not willing to
share their trade secrets, but the rudiments are the same. It is just a matter
of fine-tuning the process. Following is
a basic procedure. Why not make a batch
and see what you think?
Now let’s talk about
holidets…
KVAS RECIPE
Ingredients:
½
Kilogram Black Bread, Day
Old
2
Soup Spoons Active Dry Yeast
1
Teacup Sugar (experiment
with honey or fruit)
¼
Teacup Lukewarm water
(110-115 degrees)
2
Soup Spoons Raisins
Procedure
Word of advice – don’t tell
your friends just what’s in this drink till after they drink it! 8-)
·
Saturday, 4 March 2006
This knitting
project is character building. Other
days it seems to be a metaphor about life.
I am about 20
centimeters into a lovely burgundy shawl, happily knitting away and I suddenly,
about three rows back, I notice a dropped or split stitch glaring up at me from
the otherwise neat and orderly ranks of stitches marching across my lap.
I tug at the
infiltrator and look at the reverse side.
I poke my needle through trying to close the gap. I shake my head in denial.
I start thinking
about tearing out the stitches and starting over.
“Don’t be such a
perfectionist!” Right Brain says. “It is lovely and the flaws hardly show. They show it is handmade, with love.”
Left Brain speaks
up, “Rip it out - start over! You will
be glad you did. It is like playing the
piano. When you make a mistake you stop
and start the piece over until you can finally play the whole song without
error.”
I sigh. “This is supposed to be fun,” I lament as I pour
myself a cup of coffee. I have had so
many false starts on this piece I feel like Scheherazade. I can imagine Mark’s face when he sees I have
started over yet again.
Right Brain speaks
up, “You know, every knitting or needlework project should have a flaw. This keeps the gods from being threatened!”
“No gods would be
threatened by this piece,” Left Brain says with a rather disagreeable tone. “Rip it out!”
I turn up the
radio to drown out the voices. I stand
by the window sipping coffee and watching the rain.
Maybe I should
just take up painting instead.
Later Thoughts
Maybe I should
apply the “good enough” principle and just move forward. Finishing a project is as important as having
it turn out well at times.
The world is
filled with people who never finish anything (a lot of them never even start
anything!). We demand perfection of our
children and ourselves. We do not know
how to simply enjoy.
The trick is, I
think, to figure out where your pleasure is: in the process or the product.
Maybe I should
just stick to my knitting as the old saying goes!
I have to have a
talk with Left Brain…
·
Friday, 3 March 2006
“Dale’s Chevrolet” in Crimea & Observations
about Commercials
The radio station
we listen too is airing many political commercials these days. The elections are around the 25th.
We also notice
more car ads lately (both on radio and TV).
I wonder if there really are more car ads, or if we are simply more
conscious of them as our language skills improve.
I swear I heard an
ad for a local car lot called “Dale’s Chevrolet”! Not a very Russian sounding name is it? Mark thinks I am mistaken, but I am certain
that is what I heard.
I have not heard
any references to Crimea’s “Miracle Mile” yet but it is only a matter of time. (I have a Far-Side vision of the salesmen
wearing fur hats and playing accordions…never mind….)
I suppose car ads
are seasonal. With spring in the air,
people may decide to get a new car and plan a vacation to the beach or to the
water park on the other end of Crimea.
During winter,
cars say locked up indoors mostly. The
snowy streets and icy roads discourage people from driving. Snow removal is not common outside major
cities. People bundle up and trek to
their destinations or use public transport.
There are cabs and route taxis too.
Cars still are
beyond the reach of most people here.
The car
commercials may be seasonal, but they could actually be an economic
indicator. The idea of using credit is
new here. They even pay cash for houses
and property. I think car sales may be
an ideal way to encourage people to assume debt or use credit wisely.
Commercials on TV
and radio are announced before they are broadcast. You hear the word “reclama” and know a
commercial block is about to begin. This
keys you to either listen up or find something else to do while the advertisers
promote their products or political party.
There may be 12 minutes of commercials one after another before the
programming resumes.
I read a humorous
article in the Kiev Post about this – the writer joked about washing her hair
during the commercial break. You really
could.
The disclaimers on
commercials make me laugh. The voice
that explains that that additional credit restrictions may apply, etc, is so
rapid fire no one could possibly decipher what is actually said. When I first heard one of these disclaimers,
I believed it was a joke, a little spoof or take-off of an American commercial
maybe.
When they produce
these disclaimers, the announcer speed-reads the statement and then the
announcement is compressed digitally so it is rapid fire fast. Russian words are so long and convoluted so
the combination of speed and distortion make the deep-voiced announcers sound
much like Alvin or Theodore Chipmunk.
Local Street Dog Notes
White Dog and her
mate stretch out, nose-to-tail along the sun-drenched wall across the street
and the four usually animated puppies follow suit as well. In this moment of perfection, they resemble a
highly orchestrated Madison Avenue ad campaign for some obscure product.
It is a rare
moment of calm for the Dog family.
Usually the four
pups and their parents are a study in motion; tail-wagging, tongues hanging out
and barking commentary accompanies everything they do. The big, new world of springtime offers many
interesting diversions for the young pups and Mom and Dad Dog find many
opportunities to train the pups on practical matters as the days pass. They have learned to chase cars and bicycles;
they have learned to badger large dogs who wander into their turf; and they
know how to trail after customers departing from the neighborhood store. The term “dogging” someone takes on new
meaning after watching this team in action.
·
Thursday, 2 March 2006
To live content with small means; to seek elegance rather
than luxury, and refinement rather than fashion....In a word, to let the
spiritual, unbidden and unconscious, grow up through the common. This is to be
my symphony.
- William Ellery Channing
Thoughts about English Club
Some PCVs disdain English
Club activities and others find them challenging. I have not really heard anyone speak lovingly
of this activity. Let me be among the
first to say, I thoroughly enjoy facilitating English Club events.
I channel many of
my skills and use talents I cultivated in other arenas to draw people out, to
make them comfortable enough to speak in a language that is not their own and
to voice thoughts they may feel vulnerable about. I get theatrical and I use humor, I have
energy and enthusiasm, I am sincere and interested, I have a treasure trove of
experience and examples to draw on, I change gears easily, I do my homework so
I have questions, examples and prompts in case the conversation flags. I make it look easy, casual, and unrehearsed. I work at it!
I love it.
It is even more
satisfying when people respond to my efforts, and they do.
We have a diverse
group and maintaining interest and involvement can be a challenge. Last night was a delight since everyone
present engaged and shared a few thoughts.
No one dominated the conversation, nor were there side
conversations. The flow and pace was
smooth.
I feel the same
kind of thrill I have experienced following opening night in a theater
performance. It is a nice, comfortable,
glowing sensation that comes from a job well done. There is an adrenalin rush.
It is good to
acknowledge simple joys and pleasures. I
am grateful for the opportunity to experience English Club here in the Kerch
Library.
Neighborhood Improvements
Mark says the
neighbors are putting up a grape arbor.
They have been
using an arc welder all day long. Our
lights flicker and dim as their equipment drains power from our block. I glance out the window and watch the group
of men supervising operations.
Mark voices
concerns about the lack of safety in how they operate the welding equipment and
notes several examples. I close the
window shades so I won’t have to see. The
mantra we repeat at times like this is “Things are not better or worse here,
they are just different.”
We have learned to
avert our eyes or step away from some situations here in Ukraine/Crimea. We are products of the USA and seem more
keenly aware of safety rules and hygiene factors than those around us. No, that’s not right…no, we just see the
situation differently!
Cultivating
cultural sensitivity is essential and an ongoing process.
Americans may be
too uptight about these things, but the local people are pretty casual so it is
sometimes quite a dance between danger (or disgust) and getting the job done. People here get the job done.
The arbor is
finished now and the tools are put away.
It will be beautiful this summer when fine, plump grapes hang down from
the bars high above the courtyard and the full moon shines down from above.
·
Wednesday, 1 March 2006 – Peace Corps 45th
Birthday!
Courtyard March of the Cat Kings
I thought I had
seen elegant fur coats, but I had no idea such furs as these exist! In our courtyard a procession of regal male
cats commenced with the advent of warmer weather, and despite the rising
temperatures and spring like sunshine, they swagger past flaunting their
beautiful winter garb. There are dozens
of handsome male cats in the fashion parade outside my kitchen window. These are the Cat-Kings of Kerch and no
ermine robes could be finer!
The gang of female
cats that usually haunt our courtyard are modest tiger cats, drab by comparison
with these handsome guests. These males congregating
here are large, colorful cats; clearly, they claim lineages that are more
exotic. They are Angoras and Persians;
they resemble Maine Coons and Norwegian Forest cats. The blood of lions is evident.
They have thick
manes and some of them look as if they are wearing fur cravats. It is easy to imagine them wearing Cossack
hats or traditional fur hats with the ear flaps tucked neatly up. Their tails curl and swish as they posture
and pose like models on a boardwalk (or a catwalk?).
How elegant they
are, these pompous pretty-boys, parading through the area. They stop often to preen and clean, carefully
licking paws and wiping away smudges of mud from their pink pads. These fabulous creatures are as fine as any
show cats I have seen, yet they live out on the muddy, mean streets and survive
on meager handouts.
Where have these
amazing creatures been all winter? Perhaps they have homes, which they have
temporarily abandoned during this springtime testosterone festival. They are here in our courtyard seeking female
companionship. They are on the
prowl.
At first, the
females put up with the attention of these visitors. They simply outran them or fled up to the treetops
where the heavier males could not reach them.
After the novelty wore off, the females strategized and de-camped. They found somewhere else to hole-up until
this invasion of male cats departs again.
The hopeful males remain.
The daily routine
has been disturbed. The females who used
to wait religiously outside our neighbor’s door for their three-times daily
meal are no longer queuing up. At
feeding time Cat-Woman’s small orange dog chases away the visiting males so
that any of the females brave enough to venture out can dine without being
disturbed. I see very few of the
regulars dining, but Cat-Woman stands guard stamping her feet at the intruders
and giving them a piece of her mind in a rapid-fire Russian that is clearly
meant to discourage them from returning.
The males parade
around the perimeter of the courtyard, pausing to leave calling cards on bushes,
shrubs, trees, doorways or anything else in their path. They remind me of overdressed pimps cruising
the neighborhood in preposterous looking cars, eyeing the streets for new
opportunities. They posture and pose and
assert themselves aggressively when they are crossed.
Too much
testosterone in one place, but quite a wonderful show!
Maslenitsa Festival at the Library
Spring comes late
in northern Russia, but here on the eastern tip of Crimea the Russian community
celebrates the same festivals their cousins in the frigid north do. Maslenitsa (literally “Butter Festival”) is a
pre-Lenten celebration that seems to have survived Communist oppression. According to Helen and George Papshvily,
authors of “Russian Cooking”, during the seven weeks prior to Lent, Russians
allowed only vegetables and vegetable oils on their dining tables. It is hard to imagine how they could stick to
this menu since there is very little fresh produce available even here in the
more temperate Crimea. As consolation
for the sacrifices ahead of them, they celebrate the feast of Maslenitsa.
Even non-believers
indulge in Maslenitsa because it is a wonderful excuse to eat bliny! The heart of this festival is an orgy of
bliny feasting: bliny with butter, bliny with sour cream, bliny with caviar,
bliny with cottage cheese or jam, salmon, pickles, almost anything! (Mark likes to dress them up with a sauce of pears,
walnuts, and raisins soaked in brandy and topped with sour cream)
Bliny are like a
cross between pancakes or griddlecakes and crepes. They have a subtle flavor that sneaks up on you. They are made of simple ingredients,
including buckwheat, yeast, eggs, sugar
and flour but they require some patience to prepare. If you make them from scratch, you must let
the batter rest for six hours before you begin to cook them. No one eats just a few so plan on serving
about 15 bliny per person. They are best
eaten immediately; golden brown and hot from the grill!
The ladies of the
library decided to have a small version of the bliny-fest for their midday meal
yesterday ad kindly included us in their event.
As usual, they
pulled all the small tables together and spread tablecloths before piling on
the plates of food. They served tea, but
this time they used an actual teapot to steep a strong tea essence. A little essence is splashed into each teacup
and then boiling water from the electric hot pot (chinock) is added. In the era when samovars were common, this is
how tea was prepared and the flavor is far better than the usual casual tea bag-flung-into-a-cup
with a dash of tepid water version, which we often get when we order tea at the
local kiosk.
We huddled around
the knee high tables and sampled about ten different bliny and a variety of
tasty, rich fillings and topping while we laughed and talked.
The spring sun
shining through the window was hot. When
the library staff went back to work, I strolled home through the park, along
the sea. Swans sailed along the shore
and I paused, soaking up the sun, enjoying the taste of springtime in the air
and the aftertaste of bliny in my mouth.