·
Friday,
28 October 2005
Cooking with
Gas…Living Vicariously…
It is mid-morning. I hear the
steady rhythm of my upstairs neighbor’s kitchen knife pounding the counter as
she chop, chop, chops cabbage for a pot of soup.
Perhaps she is chopping some other vegetable or is preparing something
besides soup, but I know that almost any soup or dish prepared in a Ukrainian
kitchen probably has some cabbage in it and a bowl of soup is a part on most
Ukrainian meals. So I imagine her
industriously chopping cabbage.
When we lived with our host-family, we would wake to the sounds of T.
chopping vegetables at 5 AM. By the time
we were called to breakfast at 7 AM, the smells rolling out of the kitchen
would make the saliva flow. T. makes the
most wonderful soups and usually the main ingredients do not vary much:
cabbage, carrots, onions, garlic, and chicken are a good start to any soup. Oh yes - add a dollop of fresh sour
cream! Her simple, tasty soups set the
standard for the remainder of my life here in
It is a brisk, gray day. A hearty
soup would be a good meal teemed with some of the crusty dark rye bread that is
a staple here. A glass of Crimean wine
would complete the meal nicely. My
thoughts turn to a favorite of mine: Russian Vegetable Pie – a dish I used to
cook in
Now that we finally have a new tank of gas for our range, we can begin to
cook a bit more.
For several weeks Mark has been certain we would run out of gas at any
moment. There is no gauge on the tank so
it is a matter of guessing.
I am not as concerned as my spouse because, frankly, I could live quite
happily on coffee and muesli (oat cereal), black bread, cheese, tomatoes,
cheese, yogurt and so forth. No stove
required! (We make coffee with an
electric hotpot and a French-press, so no problems!) Mark, on the other hand, has a passion for
cooking and longs to create, as well as to dine, on real meals. I am a more reluctant cook (but a grateful
diner).
There is no science to this process of obtaining a new tank. A delivery truck makes sporadic visits to the
neighborhood, but there is no way to know when or if he will arrive. (He rings a small bell to announce his
arrival – charming, but not very effective.)
Car owners can take their tanks to a station and have it refilled. A large wrench, a special kind of wrench, is
necessary to install or remove the tank.
How long does a tank last?
“Oh, about two months,” says Ludmila, Mark’s Director. I wonder how often and how much she
cooks. Her husband graciously helps us
obtain a new tank and installs it in our kitchen.
So we have gas and I can cook.
No, because, in truth, I am afraid of lighting the gas range.
The huge orange bottle of gas poses a threat to me. The idea of striking a match to light the gas
paralyzes me. It torches when it lights
and makes loud, abrasive sounds. My
vivid imagination paints a blood, guts and gore pictures of us splattered
across the ceiling of our cozy kitchen.
I have yet, in fact, to use the stove.
Not only am I afraid of the gas; it burns my eyes.
I suspect as the weather becomes colder and the days grow shorter, I will
overcome my reticence (no, it is fear) of the beast and begin to cook a few
things. Someday I imagine I will close
the kitchen door and put something in the oven to bake as I spread out my
papers and writing projects on the kitchen table. The window will steam up and the room will be
cozy and inviting when Mark arrives home from is days at the library or his
tutoring sessions across town. Good
smells will greet him as he fumbles with the skeleton key and the lock.
But for now, I avoid the range and the scary orange gas tank in the
corner of the kitchen. I am content with
eavesdropping on the meal preparations upstairs and I know my spouse will come
home and happily cook up a delightful meal while we discuss the events of the
day.
I will sit near the fire extinguisher, just in case.
Hmmm, the chopping upstairs has stopped – just a matter of time now before
the sweet smells of savory soup waft through the open window!
·
Thursday,
27 October 2005
No Heat for
Five Years…Hyper-Inflation…Bank Failure…
Last night at English Club, I was reminded of what younger Ukrainians
have been through.
From 1992-1997 the city of
The city provides heat throughout the community through a system of pipes
and hot water. During those years of
hyper-inflation, homes and businesses throughout this city had no heat. Other utilities were intermittent or
nonexistent too.
On the cold winter nights with bitter winds whipping across the
No heat was only one chilling symptom of a larger problem. During those years, the banks failed. They failed more than once.
There was no money. People with
government jobs (teachers, postal workers, street cleaners, etc) did not get
paid for ten months. When they did get
paid, their paychecks were docked in an effort to find a way out of this devastating
economic crisis. Then no one got paid.
Imagine going for ten months with no money coming in. Imagine going from day to day, not knowing
when or if you might get paid. Imagine
being cold and hungry 24 hours a day for weeks and months on end. Imagine raising children, caring for aging
parents and yourself under these circumstances.
Imagine if you were already unemployed at the start of this crisis.
Communism probably looked good in retrospect during those early years of
independence from the
We hear almost daily about the Great Patriotic War (WWII) and its impact
on life in
We also hear about the hideous famine Stalin imposed on the Ukrainian
people back in 1932-1933 when he forced the Collective Farm policy on this
nation – Stalin used starvation to “break the backs” of the farmers: close to
ten-million Ukrainians starved to death as a direct result of this initiative. At the same time
This history has been suppressed. When
Khrushchev “purged” Stalin in his 1956 secret speech, he did not even mention
this hideous crime, but later in 1970 devotes a chapter of his book “Khrushchev
Remembers” to the imposed famine in
We hear of other brutal historic events that shape the psyche of these
people of “the Borderlands”.
Yes, we hear about these historic events often, but this more recent
experience is not easy to speak of.
We seldom hear about the years of hyper-inflation. Perhaps it is too painful to speak of it –
the wounds have not healed and speaking of it is like picking a scab and
watching the blood flow. Maybe it is too
soon for people to speak freely about the more recent events of the early years
following independence from the
I am chilled and feel raw thinking about what it must have been like to
even get out of bed each morning during those years with no heat, no cash, and
no promise of a future.
On Tuesday I wrote some rambling thoughts in this journal concerning how
frugal and careful people are about their choices. I wrote about how conspicuous and
uncomfortable I feel when I make a purchase that is inconsistent with the
values of my neighbors here.
Unemployment is high here.
Corruption at higher levels is evident.
People are eager to live the “good life” they see on television, in
movies and magazines. People are afraid
of banks and still tend to react by squirreling money away in their homes. They have experience dealing with
duplicity. It is not easy to trust.
The conversation last night about hyper-inflation less than a decade in
the past reminds me that though this country has suffered a long history
battling starvation and oppression, they still live with the threat in more
recent times.
The Ukrainian people astound me with their ability to rise above these
kinds of events and find joy in life.
They are a generous people and they sing often. When it is time to eat, they do not just eat,
they dine.
Despite all the hardships she has lived through in her lifetime, the
woman next door feeds her dozen cats twice each day and gave me a geranium for
my windowsill,
·
Wednesday,
26 October 2005
Death can come at any minute, in any way.
We do not know what is in store tomorrow, or,
Whether there is a tomorrow, or even a tonight!
But still, we have the golden present.
Now we are alive and kicking.
What should we do now?
Love all, serve all."
-
Swami
Satchidananda
The “golden present” – what a gift!
Of course that is not what the phrase extracted from the quote above
means, but isn’t each day really a gift, which we can open with enthusiasm and
excitement and acknowledge with joy?
Even if we don’t feel inclined to like the gift, we can be grateful to
our maker for thinking of us! Give
thanks rejoice…life is good!
What I am
Reading…
I finished reading “Mango Elephants in the Sun” by Susana Herrera.
This book has its moments. Peace
Corps Volunteers will relate to it because it is about one woman’s experience
at a Peace Corps assignment in
I have started Marina Lewycka’s novel “A Short History of Tractors in
Ukrainian” and can not put it down.
Despite the reference to tractors, this is actually a delightful novel. The Ukrainian step-mother is a rather cruel
caricature of people from this country, but looking past that aspect, the book
offers some amusing reading. It is light reading and of particular
interest to me for obvious reasons: it concerns
The tale takes place in
More on Books
& English Club…
I will have to set aside my reading for English Club tonight. The topic is books. The original topic suggested by the English
teachers was “the book I take everywhere”.
I wonder if my Russian phrase book qualifies?
Mark suggested we broaden the topic, but certainly if there are people
who have a book they take everywhere, they may share their thoughts about
it.
It will be interesting to listen to this topic. It has been my experience that people of
Russian heritage value books and revere authors. I have engaged in several conversations about
books, and was grateful I have read widely and appreciate literature, because
their reading choices were not casual ones!
I feel like I am in deep water when the topic of reading comes up with
Ukrainians.
I am wise enough to ask questions and let them speak rather than reveal
the limitations of my understanding. Of
course the language barrier helps me hide too!
Actually, I have read, with pleasure, many of the Russian authors
(Tolstoy, Chekhov, Dostoyevsky, Nabokov, etc. – I need to read Pushkin, whose
style inspired Tolstoy to begins “Anna Karenina”!) and I have read a large selection of French
literature too (Flaubert, Balzac, Proust, et al).
Flashbacks on My
Stateside Bookshelves Far Away…
Besides Russian, French and Spanish authors, on my stateside bookshelves
sadly collecting dust as they wait for my return, are a wide range of novels
and literature (Mark has his own preferences and a large collection of his own,
many of them from the science fiction genre).
There are no quick romance novels, thrillers or mysteries on my
shelves.
I tend to read by author. I select
a book for whatever compelling reason, read it and then wonder about the
author’s other works. I generally focus
on one author and then eventually move on when a reference or recommendation
intrigues me enough to deviate from my path.
I seem to often choose books from the early to middle part of the
Twentieth Century. I enjoy Hemmingway,
Fitzgerald, Cather, Steinbeck, Dreiser, and other American writers of that
era. Oh and the author of the classic,
“Giants in the Earth”…I have many books about pioneer life.
I also have affection for a few contemporary authors so you will find
most of these authors’ works on my shelves:
Ann Tyler, John Irving, Amy Tan, Barbara Kingsolver, to name a random
few.
James Michener fascinated me when I was younger and I would say he had a
direct influence on me. He opened my
eyes to the world in a way that allowed me to step out into that big world and
carve out a life for myself. It is
probably not his writing style, but his topics that appeal to me. (We have lived in many of the locations in
which his novels take place, which adds to my interest level, ie:
Some random authors pop up on the shelves as the result of
recommendations by National Public Radio (NPR) or family and friends.
And there are the wonderful selections I’ve collected as the result of “Saint”
Oprah’s Book Club. (She does a
remarkable job choosing challenging and pertinent novels…what an impact she has
on the book club trade with her marketing skills. Even more significant, she is successful at
getting American women to read good books!)
I have a “woman’s” section of what could be categorized as feminist
works. Next to it on my shelves are many
books about women’s role in the military.
I have many books about things Chinese and by Chinese and some Japanese
authors. “The Good Earth” planted seeds
that influenced my lifelong reading tastes.
Children’s books intrigue me. Many
are in my collection because of the delightful artwork, but some inspire me
with their prose and simple answers to the complicated questions of life. I re-read “The Little Prince” often and learn
from it each time I open its cover. I am
living the lessons from “The Velveteen Rabbit,” growing older and having the fur
loved off of me.
Young people’s books too – The Narnia series, and the original Little
House series on the Prairie series are still favorites, along with Alcott’s
work and Dickens…
There is poetry too…sigh…I miss my musty old books and will have to wait
20 months to see them again…
A few more categories dominate my choices.
I majored in psychology so there are many books on human behavior (Weisel,
and other holocaust writings) and these lead to some self-help tomes (“The
Artist’s Way” is fun and useful and so is “Drawing from the Right Side of the
Brain”) and then, because I spent much time teaching training and management
functions (accredited through CCAF), I have many books on management and
training. (The One Minute Manager series
is there and one of them is autographed by the author whom I met at a
conference in
Then there are the travel books…and my books on Christian Science (Mary
Baker Eddy’s works) and religion in general…oh and art (& crafts) books…and
my collection of architecture and design books concerning small spaces…and….well…there
are many more..
I miss my personal library.
I cannot imagine a home without books.
Our first purchase for our tiny flat here in
I have been here less than a month and those new bookshelves are rapidly
filling, despite the limited access to books in English.
As the Little Prince says, “What is essential is invisible to the eye.” I would say though, that much of what is
essential can be found between the covers of some book somewhere.
Well, back to the history of tractors… I have to see how it ends before I
head off to English Club!
·
Tuesday,
25 October 2005
Joy does not simply happen to us.
We have to choose joy
And keep choosing it every day.
-
Henri Nouwen
There is an expression I use often lately: “We will be here only two
years.”
And what do I mean by this phrase?
Mark is becoming good at interpreting my body language and intonation
when I utter this phrase.
Usually I mean, we can do without that __________ (fill in the blank with
some charming item or even some rather basic household utensil) because we will
be here only two years and we have what we need. We can tough it out. We can make do.
Sometimes when I utter the phrase, the word “but” and the words that
follow, are simply implied. “Yes, we
will be here only two years, BUT we need to (Choose one of the following) a.)
enjoy our life, b.) be comfortable, c.) live like real human beings, d.)
_________.
Sometimes it is a challenge to decide which direction to go. Usually we choose to do without.
Our flat came with an assortment of chipped dishes and odd tea cups. We have what we need to survive. Being practical people and people who are
living on a Peace Corps Volunteer’s allowance, we are keenly aware that we have
the necessary items to maintain our home for the next two years.
As I wash these dishes, I look at them and try to think grateful
thoughts. I am even becoming a bit fond
of some of these sad little bowls. I
have a favorite. It is old and has
character. When Mark serves up a meal, I
always hope I will get that special bowl.
But some days, some days, some days I want to go to the bazaar and choose
some dishes of my very own. I want to
choose.
I use dishes as an example, because I am fond of them and I am always inclined
to purchase charming orphaned bowls and small colorful plates whenever I see
them. If you have visited our home in
the USA, you see that though we have lived a rather transient lifestyle (I
almost said “live like gypsies” but I am sure some people would be upset about
that term and the whole conversation would digress into some other topic about political
correctness, etc…but, I digress…)…as I was sating, yes… we live a rather
transient lifestyle, yet back in America we have accumulated a vast collection
of delightful bowls and small cheery plates.
I get so much simple satisfaction in choosing which bowls and plates to
use as I go through the routine of setting table. Despite all our moves, these fragile treasures
are lovingly packed and are a part of what makes our house feel like a
home.
Our previous international moves have been associated with organizations
that kindly moved our belongings at the close of an assignment. The dilemma was not such an issue.
So here we are in
Yes, we are here for only two years and we can get by on less. We can simplify. We observe how our neighbors live. We live respectfully.
PCVs may choose to spend money from their savings on things that will
bring them comfort or joy. Some pay for
cable TV or purchase new appliances for their flats. Routine purchases seem like conspicuous
consumption here.
Of course it is wise to be comfortable and to make choices that enrich
life. I am not against simple pleasures,
but often our choices draw fire from local people.
“Those rich Americans…” and you can probably imagine what kind of remarks
would complete that sentence.
Just being an American takes on a new meaning when you are the only real
American they have ever met.
Our first host family uses old newspaper for toilet tissue and unplugs
their refrigerator during the winter months to save on electricity. Their dishes are mismatched and chipped.
They live joyfully though. Meals are
hearty and there is singing at the dinner table. Nikolai hugs Tamara and winks at her often. He encouraged Mark to hug and kiss me.
People are frugal in a way we do not see in
When we first arrived here Mark wanted to buy some hangers for our shirts
and blouses. One of Mark’s acquaintances
from work was with us at the bazaar and decided to help us shop. What should have been a simple purchase
suddenly became a very tiring and demanding shopping episode and we came home
with no hangers. Hangers cost about 20
cents apiece.
People here consider their purchases carefully. They shop around. They have no qualms about asking how much
you paid for an item and will also inform you that you have paid too much.
Of course people like to be helpful.
We recently bought a loaf of the wonderful black rye bread that is
available everywhere here. A woman whom
we have met saw us standing at the bus stop and made a bee-line to us. “You paid too much for that bread. They charge too much in that store. You should not shop there,” she said.
We paid about 3 cents more for that bread than we would have paid
elsewhere.
I recently chose to purchase a broom at the supermarket rather than
trudge across town to the bazaar to comparison shop. I found myself feeling defensive about my
purchase knowing someone would ask me what I paid and would shake their head
and berate me for being such an imprudent shopper.
I felt very conspicuous walking home with my broom which I could have
purchase at the bazaar for 50 cents less.
(I could have bought two hangars or two trips on the marshutka or about
four pounds of potatoes for that difference!)
Of course people here make far less money than we do in
The learning curve on living simply is steep too.
But you know - we will be here for only two years.
·
Monday,
24 October 2005
The Doctor
Makes House Calls, Billiards & Hummers…
Here it is Monday
evening and I finally am sitting down to write - Mark came home early Friday
and brought me my daily "fix" of downloaded e-mail messages. He
usually checks mail late in the day because that's when mail arrives here. Since he came home early, my mailbox is not
very full. (When the business day is over here, it is just beginning in the
Mark came home early because the library director closed the library. She determined it was too cold at the library
and sent all employees home for the day. The city has not turned on
the heat yet. Last year there were
problems paying for heat. This year, the
library can close one day a week to save on fuel.
People supplement
the city heat with electric radiators, but it is a rather expensive solution
for many people. Eve when the heat is
on, flats and houses here are usually much cooler than what Americans are
accustomed to. Buildings are not
insulated nor are the windows energy efficient.
(Our flat has brand new windows which seal well –they were a wise
investment.)
The weekend warmed
up nicely. After a cold wet week (see my
journal earlier this week for some whining about getting my laundry dry -
between water & power outages and rain...sigh...)
Friday night we used the laptop as a DVD player and watched one of the 10
English-speaking DVDs we have with us - we watched "K-19, the
Widowmaker". It is excellent. The plot, based on a true
event, follows a crew of Russian sailors in a nuclear submarine as they go
through a hideous disaster just off the coast of
Saturday night we went out with several people for an evening of billiards.
Four Ukrainians (or should I say Crimeans?) and three Americans. Mark and
I were the old foggies of the group, but never felt like it
though everyone else was around 26.
The three men played Russian billiards and the women played eight ball
on the one American style table in the place. The two police officers who
were with us, took drink orders and then disappeared for a while. They
returned from the grocery store with several bottles of wine and some large
chocolate bars and bags of chips. There were stray dogs roaming through
the billiard hall which was in the basement of the prestigious Pushkin Theater
on
Mark managed to learn the Russian billiards game and beat the men several times
while I also was victorious at the women's table. Who knew we were pool
sharks? 8-)
Conversation was amusing since only two people in the group are really capable
of speaking both languages. We had
fun.
Once the police officers learned that I was a retired Air Force NCO they had
lots of questions and thought it was great fun to hear me talk about some of my
experiences. We did some jodies (marching cadences) and they
laughed. Jodies led to actual singing sooooo we ended up doing karaoke at
a street booth. (People love to sing here...If you come to visit, I recommend
you have a couple songs, ballads are especially popular, to share with people.)
On the walk back to our flat we saw a Hummer - pretty strange in a country
where not many people have cars. The
Hummer started a conversation about wealth and one of the police made
references to the "Mafia" here in Ukraine/Crimea...
FYI: One of the police officers plays trombone in a jazz group - we had fun
telling him about my sister Janeen who plays in the Circus Band and has a red
trombone.
We got invited to join them all for an evening of dancing next weekend.
Sunday we did our shopping at bazaar - I never tire of watching people at the
open air market. I take lots of photos and we buy too much stuff - Mark
hauled home about 45 pounds of veggies, etc......when you buy by weight, you
know exactly how many kilos you are toting!
Today the doctor from Peace Corps made a house call here and gave Mark and
another PCV avian-flu shots. He made a long trip to administer two
shots. His office is in
There are a couple articles about avian-flu below. It is a big deal here I guess, hence the
urgency about the shots. People eat lots of poultry here. The second short article below references a
boycott on American poultry - we heard about this when we arrived last year -
people had nothing nice to say about Purdue chickens...
It is getting dark early - the clocks roll back an hour this weekend so by 4:30
it will be night. We really should be in the same time zone as
1. FEAR SPREADS IN UKRAINE AS BIRD FLU ARISES IN NEIGHBORS
Natasha Lisova, Associated Press (AP), Hazhyn, Ukraine, Thu, Oct 20, 2005
HAZHYN, Ukraine - Bird flu hasn't reached Ukraine, but in this village where
chickens and geese run freely, residents are debating what to do if it reaches
them. They fear it's only a matter of time.
In the past week, the deadly H5N1 strain of avian flu appeared in Romania, which
borders Ukraine to the south, and advanced into the European part of Russia,
which lies to Ukraine's east.
Slaughtering their flocks would be a big blow; domestic birds are an important
source of income and food in this impoverished ex-Soviet republic. So far,
there is no need.
But
The H5N1 strain has killed 60 people in
This country of 47 million has already strengthened controls over the poultry
industry, banned wild bird hunting and urged Ukrainians to keep their birds
inside - advice few appeared to be heeding.
In addition to fears of a human pandemic, Ukrainians were also concerned about
what they would eat. Poultry is often the only meat that many Ukrainians can
afford.
Lyudmila Muharskay, a top health official, said the Health Ministry was pushing
to increase the country's stockpiles of ordinary anti-flu medicine. Ukrainians in areas considered high-risk,
near the Romanian border and near wet lands where migratory birds are often
found, have already started receiving vaccinations.
Such shots are given to prevent more-common flustrains so that if a person gets
infected with the bird virus, there is no human flu strain inside the body to
mix with and create a dangerous hybrid. -30-
=====================================================
2. UKRAINIAN VETERINARY CHIEF RESIGNS AFTER BIRD FLU CRITICISM
Interfax-Ukraine news agency, Kiev, in Russian 1127 gmt 20 Oct 05
BBC Monitoring Service, UK, in English, Thu, Oct 20, 2005
KIEV - The head of the state department for veterinary medicine, Petro Verbytskyy,
has tendered his resignation.
"The resignation request has indeed been submitted," the
Interfax-Ukraine news agency has learnt at the Ministry of Agrarian Policy.
Verbytskyy wrote the letter of resignation of his own free will, providing no
reasons. The Cabinet of Ministers should take a decision on Verbytskyy's
resignation.
[Agricultural Policy Minister Oleksandr Baranivskyy has recently criticized Verbytskyy
for what he described as the state veterinary service's failure to take
necessary precautions against bird flu - see Kommersant-Ukraina,
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
FOOTNOTE: Petro Verbytskyy has been a very controversial head of the
state department of veterinary medicine. He used several of his 'unusual'
and 'new' biological theories about the way the U.S. processes poultry meat and
its possible impact on the human body to effectively stop the import of U.S
poultry into Ukraine for several
years. Many persons who worked on this problem felt the real reason the
import of poultry was stopped did not have anything to do with the 'unusual'
and 'new' biological theories promoted and effectively used by Petro Verbytskyy
to stop the import of U.S. poultry. EDITOR
__________________________________________
3. Movie:Everything Is Illuminated
"Everything is Iluminated" opened in
station is actually in
·
Friday,
21 October 2005
Newsweek &
Baby Talk…
When Mark leaves for the library each morning, I remain at the breakfast
table, pour a second cup of coffee and indulge in reading a few articles from
the far-to-quickly-dwindling stack of Newsweek magazines. (PCVs in
The August 15th Newsweek features an engaging article on research
on how babies think. I read it with
interest. I was particularly interested
in the brief references to experiments exposing infants to foreign
languages.
It appears there must be an emotional connection to language learning for
infants to actually assimilate meaning. It
is the human element that provides this element. If the baby simply views an audio/video tape
they fail to learn. They consider it
“just another background noise, like a vacuum cleaner.”
I have wondered whether having the TV or radio on would help me integrate
what I read in my Russian studies and improve my vocabulary and
understanding. Radio is background noise
for the most part, but I have noticed that when I become familiar with a song
and like the rhythm and melody, I sometimes try to sing along. I master the words more easily and interact
when I hear the song. Perhaps the music
facilitates an emotional connection.
The practical application of what the article says is I need to get out
and talk to more people if I am to master the basics of this language. I guess, like most anything in life, success
has to do with emotional involvement and in my experience, emotional
involvement involves commitment.
The Culture of
Running Water…
According to a sidebar in my Russian phrasebook, sinks in this part of
the world often do not have plugs. This
is not because people do not wash in them, but it reflects a prevalent attitude
that running water is more healthful than bathing in a basin of water.
Apparently the people they refer to have running water available.
·
Thursday,
20 October 2005
Rain Outside
& No Water Inside…
It looks like rain again today.
It is Thursday and Tuesday’s early morning laundry (most of our towels) is
still dripping, dripping, dripping on the clothesline in the garden.
Oh well, without water we don’t really need the towels right?
Managing laundry is obviously going to be a challenge during the rainy
season and throughout the winter.
No washer and dryer in the flat and no laundromats or dry cleaners in the
community. Perhaps this is a viable
economic development project it his country where people love stylish clothes
and take such care to look good!
I drew an extra bucket of emergency water this morning. There has been no water the past two
days.
I may be a slow learner, but two days in a row without water may indicate
a pattern.
(Hmmmm, a laundromat may face problems with unreliable water and power
sources – make a note of that as a limiting factor for any economic development
project.)
So far I have lucked out on the personal hygiene aspects on this intermittent
waterless situation so my hair and I are fresh and clean.
The PCV “Look”…
Long before we arrived here I began perusing PCV blogs and online
journals. The photos they post often
reflect a certain “look” which no doubt has to do with water supply
challenges.
One of the obvious adjustments for PCVs seems to be in appearance. Traveling light and learning to cope with
challenges like reliable water and power supplies, climate and availability of products
make compromises necessary. The learning
curve is steep.
Yes, vanity may suffer during this experience in being flexible and
learning to cope. Individuals who once
were the epitome of professional appearance now find themselves satisfied to be
simply clean and neat. It can be
humbling.
While we learn to cope and adjust, our host-country peers amaze us with
their ability to walk through a rainstorm and still show up well groomed, shoes
shined and hair styled, while the American counterpart appears mud-covered,
frizzy-haired and certainly not in stylish clothing since many PCVs show up in
country with clothes more well suited to a camping trip rather than a
professional setting.
Of course I am poking some fun at the PCVs, but it seems like many of
them prepare for their assignments by shopping at REI, LL Bean and other
outfitters…you can almost pick a PCV out in a crowd by the kind of hiking
sandal they are wearing! Here in
Labels &
the Living Room…
All over our flat there are little yellow sticky labels indicating the
Russian words for various items, ie: window, curtain, door, wall, bed, etc. I wonder how many of the folks in our
training group have a décor that includes similar labels.
This concept of labeling household items is part of many early language
learning programs. I am really past that
stage in my Russian studies, but spent a few hours yesterday refreshing my
memory on some very basic lessons and found this exercise to be rather
therapeutic.
I am sure the workman was impressed (or maybe puzzled) to see the
telephone and refrigerator labeled in Russian.
Our living room walls resemble a cross between a kindergarten classroom
and a military command post. In lieu of
art, the bare walls of our living space are covered with maps of
There are, of course, photos from friends and family in the
And of course there are the labels.
Which reminds me…I should be studying my Russian right now…
Paka!
·
Wednesday,
19 October 2005
Midmorning
Coffee Break…
I am sipping coffee from a mug I picked up in Kyiv. It is a lovely blue and is an American style
coffee mug.
Returned PC Volunteers and current Volunteers advised us - coffee is not
available here. At gatherings there will
always be tea and there may be a jar of instant Nescafe for those aberrant
folks who choose to forgo tea. (I
shudder to even label instant powders as coffee!)
My spouse and I are diehard coffee aficionados so when we packed for our
move to this part of the world, we packed accordingly. We stashed a French press pot and many bricks
of our favorite coffee into our limited baggage allotment. (Our favorite comforts see to weigh most and
with only 100 pounds authorized per person, there are limits to the coffee and
books one can reasonably carry.)
Settled now in
So, this “Maxwell House-wife” is happily sipping said coffee after an
exciting morning of doing a bucket or two of laundry, sweeping floors, dusting
furniture, washing dishes and generally making sure our cozy nest remains
pleasant.
Coffee is making headway here. Located near the checkout n many stores I
have frequented since my return to
Packaging is everything, or at least it can be useful in enticing
buyers. In this culture, no home is
without a handy electric teakettle.
Instant products that require a dash of hot water are quite popular and
convenient for lunching or teatime breaks (note: they do have teatime breaks
and take them very seriously here).
Coffee is edging in through machine too.
I observed a coffee vending machine in the entry to the
supermarket. For a few kopecks (not sure
of the cost) coffee drinks are served up in a small plastic cup.
So coffee is catching on or catching up here. Now if we can just get the locals to serve it
in a coffee mug instead of a dainty tea cup or a tiny espresso cup!
Things PCV
Visitors Could/Should Bring When They Visit Other PCVs…
Just some random thoughts on what fellow PCVs could bring along when they
visit other PCVs (besides the obligatory bottle of dry red wine I solicit from
all my guests!)…
·
Tuesday,
18 October 2005
We are
Powerless!
0830: I pour soap powder into two buckets and reach
for the water nozzle in the shower. The
power goes out. The lights go
immediately and the music from the radio seems to linger a few beats
longer. By the time the music stops
resonating, the refrigerator coughs to a stop, and I realize that we have no
power.
In the absolute silence of the moment, I hear my laptop in the next room
adjusting itself to the situation. It
makes a distinctive crackling sound as the battery takes over. On reduced power, the screen takes on a bluer
tone and everything on the screen appears darker.
Now what? I think my power is
connected to the store next door. If
their freezers fail, so do my lights. I
wait.
Plans for my immediate projects require power: cold water to do laundry,
hot water to shower and do dishes and lights to guide me in the dim, windowless
entry hallway where I hurriedly stacked clothes and personal items which need
to find a home in the new closet.
Through the wall, I hear voices in the store. Soon they will resolve this situation. Or perhaps it is neighborhood wide.
Yesterday, rain kept people out of the streets somewhat. This morning the sun is bright, but the air
has a bite to it. I look out the window
and see only one person on the streets.
He wears a stocking cap. This is
a first this season – an adult wearing a knit cap. Up till now the only cool weather wear I have
seen has been in the form of fall fashion.
The young women are eager to wear their dramatic fall coats and
aggressive-looking boots with stiletto heels and pointy toes. The weather has not forced people to don
serious cold weather attire yet.
I pour coffee from the thermos and remember to be grateful that I was not
in the midst of the shower when the power went off. Standing in the dark shower stall with a head
full of shampoo with only cold water (or no water) would be a rough start to
the day.
I think about friend T’s place (see notes on our weekend guest’s recent
visit). He hauls water up from a well;
he uses coal to heat his home and his water.
He has an outhouse. He has no
shower or bathroom.
There are no sounds now. The
voices from the store are silent.
Outside there are no people or cars.
From my windows I see no dogs and only two cats. Usually there are several dogs happily
cruising the neighborhood on their morning rounds looking for food and friendly
pats. By now I can usually count twenty cats;
at this hour, they usually stretch out or curl up in sunny spots having
completed their morning ablutions.
The city has not turned on the heat yet this season. The flat was chilly and damp last night. We
slept under the duvet, grateful for the warm feathers inside.
I wonder if people snapped on electric heaters in their flats this
morning to take the edge off the chill.
The price of these small heaters has come down and there are more
available each year. We have seen young
couples walking home from the local store carrying small electric
radiators.
The demands for power may exceed the supply.
I pull on a sweater. The sun is
coming out and the sky is bright.
No Water Now…
1000: My radio sings
to me again and Ivan (our sad, old Soviet refrigerator), hums and coughs along
with the music.
The power is on, but there is no water now.
I managed to eke out enough water to scrub some towels before the water
supply tapped out.
Towels are soaking in suds, waiting, waiting, waiting.
Years of training have aught me to expect the unexpected so we have
several bottles of emergency water cleverly stashed in our tiny flat, just in
case. Four large plastic water bottles
currently comprise the legs for our improvised coffee table. They are hidden by a tablecloth that gives
our creative solution a bit more elegance or at least allows us the illusion of
it.
We have emergency candles in our flat and carry small flashlights with us
for a variety of uses including unexpected power outages and dark streets with
open manholes and packs of dogs and other surprises.
Yesterday we were slowed down and inconvenienced by power problems
too. This time it was the public
transportations system that suffered or caused suffering. We were across town enjoying a birthday
celebration with an executive from the local port. Following the party, we found the electric
trolleys empty, people standing along the curb.
A couple of women employees had climbed onto the roof of one vehicle to
troubleshoot the problem.
Mark faced the same problem in the evening when it was time to return
home from his tutoring session. He
walked home, about a 40 minute walk.
In
1500: Water trickles out of the faucet into my rinse water
bucket.
Limited water is better than no water.
1700: I finally rinse
out the towels and hang them on the line.
The bright morning sun that prompted me to wash towels has passed on and
now it looks like it may rain.
Depsite the impending rain, I wring out towels and hang them
outside.
There is no place to hang wet towels indoors and with no heat or air
circulation they are hardly worse off out in the rain. Anyone who has experienced the sour smell
laundry dried indoors can emit will understand my decision.
So ends a day here in lovely
·
Monday,
17 October 2005
Friend Tom came to visit Saturday.
It was R&R for him I think. Soldiers,
sailors, airmen and marines know R&R stands for rest and relaxation.
Tom, a PCV, lives here in
The Tartars left
We will have a chance to visit the area and learn more of the history of
the Tartars in
While Tom politely listened to us detail facts about the history, culture
and peoples of
We sat at a café by the canal sipping tea and enjoying delightful autumn
weather listening to Tom provide the details of buying coal by the ton, storing
it, and burning it. The topic moved on
to the public baths.
Public baths are common throughout
During cold weather, people do not perspire like they do in the summer
months so a weekly bath suffices, at least according to Tom’s local
mentors!
Our market is quite large here in
We meandered through this charming town as we made our way to our flat
near city center. We walked along the
clean streets, admired the architecture of the buildings, observed the people
strolling happily through their town. We
detoured bit to walk along the Black Sea and caught a glimpse of the mountains
in
It was fun to see our town through someone else’s eyes.
To me one of the joys of being associated with Peace Corps is to share
what we see and learn with others PCVs.
This sharing allows each of us the opportunity to expand our know ledges
and to vicariously experience even more of the country we call home for 27
months of our lives.
Some volunteers live isolated lives and socialize only with English
speaking opportunists or fellow volunteers.
Others are immersed in the local culture and live rich lives, learning
much about themselves as they strive to make a difference where they live.
It is interesting to hear the experiences of others. Volunteers in urban settings may dine at
restaurants or dance at clubs that are well above the standard of other humble
PCVs. Rubbing elbows with expatriates
and tourists is interesting and sometimes a bit amazing, especially after
living among working class people.
As PCVs, we are provided with a modest allowance for food and
housing. We live like the locals around
us. Of course there are local people who
live in elegant homes who live lives we cannot even imagine. Some PCVs seem totally oblivious to the fact
there are many elegant homes, people with wealth and disposable income. The volunteers may stay very close to their
work sites and experience a very small piece of the pie they are offered when
they come to this country. Others are
exposed to both extremes.
There are other volunteers who try to duplicate the comforts and
standards of life in the
Tom’s idea of high life was much more humble, at least on his visit here:
the idea of a hot shower in a pleasant bathroom was very alluring. It was fun to be the fairy godmother who
could grant this happy wish.
After depleting the hot water supply showering, Tom sighed and said, “I
love your apartment!”
Hot water on demand will do that for people!
Another challenge volunteers face is cooking for themselves. The local open-air markets sell whatever is
in season. Any produce which is not in
season or not common to this culture is pretty exotic and definitely
pricey. For many volunteers learning to
cook foods based on what is available is a new concept.
Americans are used to simply buying whatever foods strike their fancy,
regardless of season or price. Here,
the market carries the same things everyday and additional produce is
available, depending on the season.
What is available? Cabbage, potatoes,
carrots, onions, garlic, chicken and this time of year tomatoes and peppers,
eggplant and bananas, grapes, and apples, cucumbers and radishes are all
available. Learning to use these
products to creative and tasty combinations is a challenge for many of the
PCVs. In fact, many simply get by and
seldom master the joys and the art of cooking.
This is sad, but true.
One of our fellow PCVs has ten huge bags of potatoes squirreled away in
his root cellar. A wise man, ready for
winter up in snowy
Since Mark takes some pleasure in preparing food, it was fun to have a
guest eager to learn about food preparations.
Tom and I sipped wine and watched as Mark put together a simple, but
tasty meal, and expounded on chopping techniques and cooking methods. We ate simple food, but we ate well.
We lingered around the table sampling local cognac and talked until far
past bedtime. Somewhere around 5 AM, Tom
finally had his opportunity to exploit our shower and then went off to bed on
clean sheets on our very-firm Soviet-era couch for a few hours of sleep.
On Sunday, the men huddled over the computer discussing web page design
while I tidied up. Outdoors, the fall
weather was bright, clear and perfect for a hike up to the Mitridate.
We enjoyed the view of the harbor and the city from the Greek ruins
90-plus meters above the sea. We watched
as a wedding party sipped champagne and snapped photos in front of the huge,
hilltop monument to the Great Patriotic War.
The bride left behind her bouquet, as is the custom here.
We walked down the hillside on the 2,000 steps that lead down to the city
center and the plaza where the Pushkin Theater, the statue of Lenin, and the
city symbol, the
Later in the afternoon, Tom boarded the bus and headed west to his
village to resume his life there until another day.
·
Friday,
14 October 2005
This morning I
witnessed a savage event…German Shepards & Spiders
My morning routines in our cozy Crimean flat are growing as I discover
what must be done each day to maintain our home. My mother had a schedule with certain major
tasks assigned to each day. Other tasks
were simply part of a daily routine.
Making the bed, running the dust mop across the golden hardwood floors,
washing the morning dishes and sweeping the kitchen floor were all routines
accomplished every morning.
The local radio station provided background to some of her work. Certain tasks were accomplished at particular
times so she could hear the programs she enjoyed. During the breakfast hour she would listen to
the swap shop program where people would offer items for sale or trade. Later she would listen to the hospital report
and the obituaries. In a small town this
is important news. When the stock
reports (not stock market, but actual livestock, as in feeder pigs and the
price of cattle, etc – this was part of life in Iowa) came on, she would snap
the kitchen radio off and move on to tasks in other parts of the house.
One of my household chores today involved death and destruction.
I had to evict several daddy-long-legs spiders and their families from
their webs near the ceiling of our living/bed room.
For many days I have eyed these harmless and somewhat graceful creatures
that populated the area twelve feet above my head. Today I felt the need to relocate them to
quarters further away from my sleeping area.
They have never invaded our space, yet somehow I was not comfortable
having them staring down at me from above me bed and perhaps they were not
happy with me gazing up at them either.
I used a broom and took a position on one of the seven dining room chairs
that came with the apartment that has neither dining table nor dining
room. Before I swished the broom their
webs and destroyed their quiet homes, I spoke to them in a loud voice, advising
them to find another place to live. They
are not welcome in this room, but should they care to relocate to the living
room ceiling I could allow them to remain in the flat. They are quiet tenants and do no harm. They are reputed to dine on mosquitoes and so
they serve a purpose here.
Despite my speech of encouragement, I did feel rather cruel when I swept
them down.
I wonder if they will relocate or if they will return to the site of
their original home to rebuild like the victims of Hurricane Katrina.
I hope they are not vindictive creatures.
Suddenly, I think of that German Shepard dog and the poor cat I saw
earlier today.
As I was watering my geranium and enjoying the way the sunlight spills
across through the kitchen window I heard a loud commotion in the
courtyard. Under the willow tree a large
German Shepard dog was shaking his head vigorously and running in circles.
Three young workmen on their break seemed to be cheering the strange dog
on. In a moment I understood that they
were not cheering the dog, they were crying out to him to stop.
The dog had swept into the courtyard and grabbed onto the neck of one of
the many cats that live here. He was
shaking the cat with the vigor of a cleaning woman shaking out a dust mop.
In the next few moments the dog ran out the gate with the cat still
clenched in its jaws.
The cat cannot survive this savage attack.
I was stunned and so, apparently, were the workmen. They stood there quietly for a few moments,
then one young man drew a package of cigarettes from his pocket, offered one to
each of the other men. They stood
quietly smoking, not speaking.
Nature has a way of reminding us we are vulnerable creatures and at any
moment the joys and privileges of life may be taken from us.
·
Thursday,
13 October 2005
Are the stars too distant,
pick up the pebble that lies at thy feet, and from it learn the
all.
-
Margaret
Fuller
Three fishermen, home from the sea, relax on the terrace outside my
window. Their poles, nets and other
equipment are leaning neatly on the terrace rail. There is a bottle on the table and their
voices are animated.
A large orange and white cat, lured over by the sea-smells, inspects each
item, sniffing and pawing and finally sauntering off down the street in search
of something more interesting. Other
cats observe from their nap-spots across the street. Stray dogs dart about, occasionally barking,
always begging.
The men continue to talk in voices that are deep and that seem to rumble
out of their chests. I catch an
occasional word or phrase that I recognize from my Russian studies, but mostly
their conversation is, for me, like listening to birdsong; it has no real
meaning to me, but is a soundtrack for my life these days.
In the kitchen window, next to the pink geranium and the large yellow
mum, the radio is on and the local morning show personalities pratter away,
much as they do anywhere in the world.
Morning talk shows seem to be morning talk shows. There are the usual components: a
serious-sounding host and a wise-cracking sidekick; upbeat music; callers who
must answer questions regarding some obscure fact about a celebrity, sports or
news event; sound effects used to punctuate foolish or racy remarks and, of
course, lots of loud commercials.
The radio program is in Russian, so I must speculate about much of what I
hear. Sometimes I follow the
conversation for a brief period of time.
This morning there was a call in segment about the Lord of the Rings
films (– funny to hear English words and names Russified almost beyond
recognition).
Language facilitates conversation and can draw people together. It can also isolate people.
Living in another country, absorbing the culture and hearing the language
makes me think what it must be like to be a small child or a baby. I am surrounded by so many activities and
sounds that I must assign meaning to.
This activity requires significant amounts of energy and patience.
There must be a willingness to listen and learn and to take some risks
too. Some days this is a marvelous game,
but on other days it can be more than a novelty or a challenge; it can be
exhausting.
I consider what immigrant life in
Many of the people we meet here have studied in the States and have
returned to their home and families.
They are modest about their language skills, but often they speak our
language better than students we had in our classes at EHS. I am amazed at the nuances of vocabulary
some of these speakers possess.
I will be here another about 20 months.
I wonder how much language my language skills will improve.
Mark is exposed to conversational opportunities daily at his work and he
studies with a tutor twice weekly. He
also teaches Technical English to the library staff and hosts English Club each
week too. Soon he will be teaching
disabled children too. There are also
the daily transactions that involve some command of the language – shopping for
food and household items in stores and at the bazaar, dealing with the bank and
the shoe repairman and others all involve language skills.
My own language studies are erratic and I do not yet have any daily
network of people to converse with (practice on). I have a variety of language materials which
I am slowly working my way through.
My passive vocabulary is fairly large, but there is so much more to learn
than simply vocabulary: everything involves case, stress, word order…endings
change on so many words so there are many opportunities to err. This aspect of learning a language can
paralyze people. How do Russian children
ever decide to open their mouths and speak?
It is strangely quiet outside. I
look out the window and see the fisherman have packed up their belongings and
departed. Several cats are stretched out
in a pool of sunlight where just recently fishing poles and nets rested. The noisy dogs are napping now.
I switch off the radio. It is time
for me to move on to other activities.
·
Wednesday,
12 October 2005 (Columbus Day)
So much has been given to me;
I have no time to ponder over that which has been denied.
- Helen Keller
I wake to rain.
Rain foreshadows the inconvenience and discomfort of winter. This is my first experience with rain here in
Outside it is dark. I stand at the kitchen window sipping from a mug of
sweet tea and wonder how the dogs and cats manage in wet weather. Scavengering for food becomes hard work. People, who walk to and fro, move quickly
with heads bent. They will arrive at
destinations with damp clothes and flyaway hair.
Inside the flat I am dry, warm and comfortable. I decide this first rain day is a little
holiday for me. I celebrate by lingering
over the novel I am reading.
With the limited availability of books in English, I find myself
rationing my reading a bit. I limit
myself to a couple chapters each day rather than giving in to my voracious
appetite which would allow me to consume whole novels at a single sitting. This discipline is particularly difficult
with the current novel I am enjoying.
Dreams of My Russian Summers by Andrei Makine absorbs my interest and paints
pictures that lure me in and trap me there long after I set down the book to
pursue other activities.
The author conjures up a babushka who captivates her grandchildren with
personal tales of all the major events in Twentieth Century Russia, but the
story is really about her two disparate lives, one in
The author was born in Siberia in 1957 and lives in
I suspect my generalized description of the book will not draw in many
readers or influence anyone to read it.
It is, however, a decidedly delightful book; well written and filled
with evocative images that are especially interesting to me now, living in a
community of Russian speaking people , in a country that was part of the former
Soviet Socialist Republic.
Reflections on Humor…
This evening I will attend English Club at the library. We will share anecdotes and idioms. Mark has TEFL book which provides many simple
jokes and these will be well suited to the group. Many of the jokes are ones my grandchildren
would appreciate – elephant jokes and knock-knock jokes.
In learning a language there are times when you get to re-live some of
the simple joys of being a child.
Laughing at jokes is one of those times.
You must have some mastery of a language to appreciate humor of course.
I think maybe that is why children of a certain age appreciate
knock-knock jokes so much. It is a
chance to play with words. Up until a
certain point, language is merely a tool for communicating needs.
The joke and anecdote theme was proposed last week after some remark that
motivated me to quip, “Men work from sun
to sun, but a woman’s work is never done.”
Immediately pens began scribbling as the women in the group wrote down
this phrase for later use no doubt. I
had to disabuse them that I was the author of this phrase, but they were
delighted with it! Some things require
no explanation.
·
Tuesday,
11 October 2005
·
Monday,
10 October 2005
My storehouse having been burnt down,
nothing obstructs my view of the bright moon.
-
Mashade
I
do enjoy quotes. This quote above, a
haiku perhaps, seems iridescent. It
shimmers with color. Each time I read
it, I find my attention drawn to another nuance of reflected color, another
idea to consider.
Today
I see that sometimes we focus on what is in front of us and do not always see
the beauty of what is happening around us.
We can be so focused, we fail to observe the blessings that surround
us. Our obsession over things and
accumulating them can detract from our pleasure in what we already have.
We
will live here for about 20 months more.
Though we are transient, this is our home. We want our nest to be an attractive,
functional, comfortable place to spend time together and with friends and
family. It is a pleasure to approach
decorating this way. It is also
challenging.
Each
of us comes to this place with 100 pounds of baggage. The Peace Corps coordinates the matter of
finding a suitable apartment for the volunteer to call home. PCVs are to live in housing appropriate to
the standard of living for local people working in similar positions.
Like
any bureaucratic organization, they have checklists which prescribe the
standards for what must be in the apartment.
There must be a specified number of dishes, pots and pans, towels, and
items of furniture. The checklist is
detailed and reflects an American perspective of course. But, each PCV comes to their new home and
finds some basic elements to make life easier.
Each
PCV also receives a small allowance for settling in. This permits the individual to purchase a few
things which make the flat a home-away-from home.
With
each small purchase I am reminded when we leave, we can take only 100 pounds
away. I will have to leave behind many
of my small treasure. This tinges my
pleasure for a moment, but I ultimately realize that today is all that is
promised to anyone. I must simply enjoy
today. That is enough.
It
would be interesting to see how others personalize their flats.
The
items provided in our flat are generally very utilitarian. Our chipped dishes and assorted cutlery are a
mismatched collection. The two-burner
stove has been painted to make it appear less unattractive. Ivan, the Terrible, our rusty, scary
refrigerator, really should be retired.
(The workman ran a finger over the door of the refrigerator, shook his
head and said “plaho” which means bad and then quickly changed the subject, challenging
my linguistic skills by asking me where in we are from.)
Our
flat is centrally located. The street
outside is tree-lined and attractive. It
has potholes and there is a manhole missing its cover. There are streetlights on our boulevard and
they remain on all night. Many PCVs live
on back streets with no streetlights or lights that are turned off around
9-10.
Our
apartment is small, but really is in good condition.
The
two windows are new and seal very well.
This is important when winter arrives and the winds whip off the
sea. The windows have iron work
protecting the glass on the outside and there are vinyl shades on the inside. One faces the street outside our living
room/bed room on the north and the other window, in the kitchen, faces south to
our tiny fenced yard and the courtyard.
Plumbing & Heat…
We
are fortunate to have a toilet and a separate water closet that are bright and
clean looking. They have been recently
renovated. Plumbing stories are common
among PCVs in Ukraine/Crimea.
Among
the PCV community there are many funny kolonka (sp?) tales too.
Our
flat also boasts an electric water heater rather than a kolonka. We have experience with these unique systems:
when we lived in
Our
electric water heater is a nice luxury, but will be of little use when the
power goes out, which happens more than people care to admit. We have been assured that since the Mayor
lives in our immediate neighborhood we will probably not suffer power outages
and heat problems that are more common in other parts of town.
There
are PCVs in country who actually draw water from a well or potable water source
rather than from a tap. They also heat
their water for bathing, washing, and cleaning.
Our
heat is provided through radiators. Like
the military in the
Padded Doors & Slippers…
Our
apartment has a typical entrance. From
the dark, dank communal hallway, there is a double door coming into our
flat. The two doors are side-by-side. They are roughly upholstered in dark vinyl
and decorated with large brads. We have
observed many doors like this, in apartments and on individual homes. Perhaps the upholstery helps retain heat, but
why double doors?
In
many entries, there are actually two sets of doors – an outer upholstered pair
and an inner wooden pair. This makes a
very secure entrance and probably also helps retain heat too.
The
doors lock from the inside with a huge skeleton key. They do not close without the lock. It is difficult to open the door when someone
comes to visit. This is fairly typical
in our experiences too. I also wonder
what would happen if there were a fire and we had to escape.
To
the right of the door there are the typical hooks for hanging outer
garments. On the floor underneath, all
the shoes and boots in the home are stored.
Upon entering a home, one removes street shoes and dons slippers
(“tapachki”). Street shoes are generally
taboo inside private homes. A good host
will provide slippers to guests. (Do not
think about going barefoot – I have already been chastised about this by the
“babushka” woman who lives upstairs. I
have since acquired some warm house shoes.)
Directly
across from the front door, welcoming guests to our humble abode, is the
doorway to the toilet. The tiny, closet-size
space houses a commode and a fluorescent light.
It is a small space and serves only one function. (The water closet, with the sink and shower,
are in another room adjacent to the kitchen.)
To the left of the front door is our disreputable, aforementioned
refrigerator-friend Ivan. You pass him
enroute to the kitchen.
The Kitchen…
Immediately
to the left in the kitchen is a tiny sink and a small cupboard on the wall above
it. The stove is about 18 inches from
the sink. There is no counter space, so
we place a cutting board on the stove or use the small kitchen table which is
also about 18 inches from the sink and/or the stove.
The
stove is about 30 inches wide, has two burners and a small oven. There is no thermostat so baking is a
challenge both in temperature and quantity – no self-respecting thanksgiving
turkey would fit in that oven. (We faced
this challenge in our
We
used some of the settling in money to buy a bright yellow, gingham tablecloth
for the utilitarian kitchen table. I
splurged on a couple blue and white dish towels which hang from the oven door
of the stove. I also bought a yellow
potted mum for the windowsill above the kitchen radiator. A neighbor gave me a geranium cutting – it is
pink and looks quite happy on our windowsill.
On
a more practical note, Mark purchased a two-liter, electric hot-pot. Everyone seems to own one of these. Even the street venders often have them
stashed inside their stalls so they can make a cup of tea in an instant. The hot-pot is very efficient. With the infrastructure as poor as it is,
these popular appliances are a great alternative to the gas range and a tea
kettle. (We use ours to pre-boil water for
cooking, ie: we pour boiling water from the hot-pot into the kettle and then
make rice or macaroni.)
The
kitchen window looks out on our small garden space and a courtyard of
sorts. There are always about 15 cats
hunkered down by the neighbors door and there are a few resident dogs roaming
the courtyard too. The window gets some
afternoon sun.
The Living Room/Bedroom…
Make
a right turn and go through the door into the living room/bedroom. We invested in a couple bookshelves for this
space. We placed the couch at right
angles to the wall and arranged the very tall bookshelf behind it to act as a
partial wall. We attached fabric to the
back of the bookshelf and using staples have devised a room-divider so our
sleeping area is more private.
Our
living room has a couch that converts to a bed for guests. There is also an arm chair and an old
television. (The TV gets few channels
and each must be fine-tuned individually.)
These are arranged in a conversational grouping and are anchored by a
rather contemporary carpet.
A
rather peculiar table was provided as a desk. It is near the window. We have removed our bed frame and placed the
mattress and springs on the floor behind the improvised room divider near the
window.
There
are seven upholstered dining chairs which are scattered strategically
throughout the apartment.
Many
homes have furnishings and décor that still reflect the Spartan, utilitarian
choices of soviet era. Things were not
readily available then. There were few
choices and little variety. People would
simply buy a functional item. Everyone had
the same type of furniture with minor differences. On big ticket items, people would actually
just put their name on a waiting list and when the item became available they
took it. No choice.
We
are accustomed to having choices in the
Now
they see the car they almost bought around town and refer to it as their car.
Our
host family experiences and visits to homes makes us keenly aware of how much
space we have in American homes. Many
people are crowded together in small flats here. Rooms and furniture serve multiple purposes
here.
Home
is important. It is a place to retreat to,
a place to contemplate things, a place to relax, a place to share with
friends. The rudiments are here, it is
up to us to provide the spirit that makes house a home. A sense of home fortifies one to go out into
the world and engage.
I
feel strongly about my sense of home. I
like what Mary Baker Eddy says in Science and Health, “…home is the
center, not the circumference of being…”
This is a good perspective.
·
Friday,
7 October 2005
I am reading Russian Journal by John Steinbeck. It is a curious book. Not much in the way of writing really, but
impressions of his experiences with people in various places in
The trip takes place about 6 years after the Great Patriotic War (which
we know in the
I wish there were more of Capra’s photographs. There are 70, but he took hundreds more. He was not permitted to photograph many
things which would have been of interest.
Following is a quote from Steinbeck extracted from the book. I find it interesting, particularly since I
am within the window he speaks of.
Seeing a country with new eyes is delightful. There is definitely a freshness and newness
that infuses even the most mundane things with novelty.
“…It is said that in a foreign country impressions are sharp and accurate
for a month, and then they become blurred, and the reactions are not accurate
again for five years, so that one should stay either a month or five years in
country.”
·
Thursday,
6 October 2005
Who is it that can make muddy water clear?
No one. But left to stand, it will gradually clear of itself.
-
Lao-Tzu
Tao Te Ching
This quote is good
for anyone feeling the stress of learning a new language. You cannot hurry. The water will calm and things will become
clear.
Last night was the
weekly English Club meeting. A diverse
group attends so it is a good way for Mark and me to find out much about life
here in
Of course the
purpose of the group is for those who wish to improve their English speaking
skills to have an opportunity to practice the language in a conversational
way. This is one of Mark’s projects.
There are a few
business men in attendance, and there are several secondary school students who
show up, but the backbone of the group seems to be several women who teach
English. The teachers show up with
cookies, prepare tea and encourage their secondary students to attend these
meetings. This is wonderful except they
fail to check their teaching skills at the door. And they tend to dominate the
discussions.
As in any group
there are those who speak often and can be relied on to respond and there are
those who are more passive participants.
Watching the dynamics of this group is interesting for us. It gives us some insight into how students
learn in classrooms here in
When students use
their fledgling English skills and speak up on a topic, the teachers are quick
to correct their word choices or fill in the pauses with more specific
information or actual corrections. At
first I only observed this behavior with the young students, but last night the
teachers were cutting off the businessmen’s sentences and making corrections on
content and on grammar and word choice.
This week we heard
about many of the historic sites in the area and closed the meeting with a
song. Ext week we agreed to each come
with a joke, anecdote or idiom to share.
This may facilitate more participation.
We shall see. In any case, the
club allows us to learn more about local people and observe behaviors.
And, I came home
with a bag of leftover cookies too!
·
Wednesday, 5 October 2005
Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers.
Pray for powers equal to your tasks.
Then the doing of your work shall be no miracle,
but you shall be the miracle.
-
Phillips
Brooks
Some Ramblings
on How to Live Life…
I woke up with this quote (above) on my mind.
The question is: am I equal to the task?
We have so many opportunities to take up this challenge in our
lives. The challenges seem to find us,
no matter how safe and secure our lives seem.
We could micro-manage events to make ourselves comfortable and free from
difficulties, but something will always happen to disturb the careful
plans. You cannot anticipate the events
that may shake you to your very core.
It is wise to learn early that in most areas of our life, we really only
have the illusion of control.
This frees you to enjoy the events that come your way. If you cannot enjoy the events, at least you
may have the energy and wisdom to handle them with grace.
It is wise to be grateful for the challenges.
It is in dealing with these challenges we discover our strength and even
sometimes find joys we could not have anticipated.
Challenges are opportunities to put your beliefs to practice.
No reason for this rather serious sounding reflection. Life is good.
Life is very good.
Mopping the
Floor…
My mop, provided by the landlady, is merely a stick with a cross piece at
the bottom. The landlady also provided a
couple clean rags as part of the system.
To operate this mop, merely wet the rag and use the stick to manipulate
the rag across the floor. Rinse, wring
and reapply the rag as needed.
At first this seemed like a rather foolish way to manage floor care. I had every intention of purchasing a
traditional mop at the local bazaar. In
the interim, since the kitchen is small, I simply used a sponge and soapy water
to clean up the tiles.
This was not satisfactory. There
were streaks and it was as if I was simply moving the dirt around, rather than
removing it.
Today, I tried the stick. Despite
my initial reticence, I quickly mastered the technique. (As in everything, technique is often the
factor that matter most!)
Now the morning sun shines through the kitchen window, past the potted
mum, and spills across my shining floor.
I sit here at the computer sipping coffee and cannot help but feel pleased
with how nice the results look.
Life is about small pleasures.
I will cross that new mop off my shopping list.
Hmmm, I could buy a chocolate bar with those grivna!
It has Been Two
Weeks…
Today it has been two weeks since my plane touched down in
Let me say again – life is good.
Life is very good.
FYI: Mark told me there is a line of appliances here that goes by the
label LG – it stands for Life is Good.
8-)
·
Tuesday, 4 October 2005
Those who are lifting the world upward and onward are those who
encourage more than criticize.
- Elizabeth Harrison
At first light the
orchestra in the park begins to tune up – it is a cacophony that continues for
about half an hour. I spring from my bed
some days, hoping to get a glimpse of the musicians from my north-facing
window. So far I have failed. I suspect, from the sounds, there are crows
and probably sea gulls, but there are sounds that make me think of geese and
ducks too.
The birds wake and
begin their morning concert, or perhaps it would be better to all it a dialogue
since it really is not very musical. It could be a strategy meeting where they
plan the events and activities of the day.
In any case these noisy fowl waken me most mornings. For about thirty minutes their sounds
dominate. One day soon, I will rise
early and walk the two blocks east to the waterfront and observe the sunrise
and perhaps I will actually see the birds in question.
By 0700, there are
students striding off to school, heads bent, some smoking cigarettes. A few men on sturdy bicycles pedal toward
town center. There is no conversation.
It is very quiet,
the only sound is the wind in the trees which mimics the sound of the water
lapping along the edges of the waterfront.
At 0900, people
are beginning to stir a bit more and I begin to here bits of conversation as
people walk past the window or enter the small store that is next door to our
flat. A group of men congregates in a
sunny patch in the middle of the street.
They talk, smoke, laugh. The
voices resonate and sound urgent. The
street sweeper shares a joke with them.
Several dogs on a morning mission scoot past and the usual cats begin
the morning ablutions in their designated spots.
I finished Vassily
Aksvonov’s novel “The Island of Crimea”.
It was a good read, but reminds me that I have much to learn about the
actual history of this place I am calling home.
The book interjects some fantasy into the story and I do not know
whether the battles they discuss are factual or simply part of the poetic
license authors use to enhance the storyline.
Before I start
another of this author’s novels, I am reading John Steinbeck’s “Russian
Journal” with photos by Robert Capa.
I did not know
Steinbeck traveled in
Capa and Steinbeck
journey off to
The material on
I will have time
to read during our tenure here in
Lack of books for
pleasure reading: this is a fact of life for many PCVs worldwide I am sure. There is a paradox because the Volunteers
often, for the first time in their lives, have time to read. In fact, I have spoken to and read blog
entries from Volunteers who really never read until they were isolated by
language and access to other diversions.
Some people only cultivated an interest in reading during their PC
tenure.
PC sends each
volunteer a copy of Newsweek. I imagine
many PCV’s become lifelong readers following their 27 months of relying on this
magazine for information about the world news.
Some PCVs in
Radio is available
of course. In many locations BBC
broadcasts are available. Here in
I imagine laptop
computers have been a a major change in the lives of PCVs worldwide. Many of the Volunteers have them here and use
them for all the usual, practical purposes, but they also rely on them for
entertainment too. Laptop makes a fine
DVD player and also provides a source for music and video games. Mark has lots of music and even books stored
in his computer.
Access to Internet
is uneven across our country of service.
The phone lines actually permit users to have dial-up at home, but in
practice this is not satisfactory. Mark
has spent hours listening to a busy signal as he tries to access the line. In fact, almost all infrastructures here are
a challenge so most technologies are unevenly distributed. People use Internet Cafes for e-mail, gaming
and other applications. Of course in
rural
We may break down
and get an Internet connection at home – the cost, on our budget, is rather
steep, but we look at it as an investment.
It will permit us to share our experiences with our family and friends
more readily and will also provide a wealth of resources for various projects
too. It will be interesting to see how
easy it will be to obtain a home account.
On the negative
side of things: PCVs and their laptops can more easily isolate themselves from
their local community. The laptop and
Internet access allow a global community to grow, but using these tools can
rule out many opportunities to engage with local people.
The impact of any
technology is so diverse.
As winter sets in
here on the
We already broke
out the Scrabble game the other night – it is a cheap cardboard version Mark
bought in
·
Monday, 3 October 2005
We don't receive wisdom; we must discover it for ourselves after
a journey that no one can take for us or spare us.
- Marcel Proust
Some Descriptions and Observations of
Neighborhood Life.
Morning Business…
0900 and our
laundry is already out dancing in the autumn breezes.
When I finished
hanging our garments on the line in our tiny patch of green outside the door, I
notice two tiger-striped cats nearby.
One rests in a nest of fallen leaves beneath the overgrown berry thicket
that has usurped half of our fenced in outdoor space. The other, squeezes through the fence pickets
and then stretches in the magnificent way only cats can. They observe me and I observe them. They are not ready yet to make friends of me,
but perhaps soon. (I may enlist the help of some canned cat chow!)
The usual crowd of
cats outside our neighbor’s door has dispersed already. There are no signs of them. They have, no doubt, found sunny spots where
they can take care of their morning ablutions preparatory to a morning nap.
At lunch time,
they will be on duty again, hunkered down, waiting outside the door for their
servant to appear with rations and water.
There are about 10 regulars, but a few independents also show up at
mealtimes and squabble to become part of the pecking order. Usually they fail to get more than a bite or
two.
Street Sweepers
As I stand there
watching the cats, the street sweeper rolls her cart into our courtyard. I linger a few moments longer to observe her
at work.
Street sweepers,
clad in bright orange vests, appear on the sidewalks and streets each morning
about 0800. They sweep away the remnants
of the night before. They are generally
in the background, taking care of their work throughout the day, but I notice
them most in the bright morning sun because they are the first people out most
days.
This is the first
time I have seen a street cleaner in our courtyard. She uses a large broom which appears to be
made of sticks. The primitive looking
broom rakes through the dirt and sporadic grass and collects debris which the
woman scoops up using a heavy, metal dustpan.
Her wooden cart looks old and well worn.
Already she has piled it high with tree limbs and trash.
I wonder what
street sweepers do in the wintry months when there is snow on the ground.
The Water Truck…
Yesterday as we
were going out to walk by the sea, the bevy of cats by our neighbor’s door was
disrupted when a loud bell rang out nearby.
The cats flew up the tree trunks and into the bushes at the first harsh
clang of the bell. We rounded the corner
onto the boulevard and saw a large blue tank truck parked near the corner. A burly man wearing a cap perched on a stool
ringing a bell. On the side of the
truck, in large Cyrillic letters was the word “Bodu” (transliterated here, the
Russian word for water).
Customers arrive
bearing water vessels. Business is slow
today, but I imagine there are times when his services are in high demand. As we walk toward the sea, we observe him as
he makes his rounds, his harsh bell announcing his presence to everyone.
Water Tales – Floods and Rumors…
We have heard
tales from co-workers at the library of going without water for days. City services are taxed to meet increased
demands in our lovely city. Often, at
peak seasons, heat, electricity and water are at a premium. We have been advised to have some water on
hand and to keep candles in the event of power outages.
One of the chief
merits of our tiny flat is the proximity to city center and the mayor’s
home. Apparently these two factors
indicate the probability of better services.
This is a good thing.
A bad thing, or so
some people have said, is that city center occasionally gets flooded. Those living on the ground floor (which we
are) may find themselves up to their knees in water following seasonal
rains.
This thought
frightens me a bit. I conjure up visions
of the recent flooding in
I have been
assured that the flooding is a result of rains that wash through the canal that
dissects the city center. The central
bazaar (or rinok, as it is called) is adjacent to the area in question. We are not close to the canal.
Reclaimed Land - the
The land between
our home and the sea is reclaimed land.
The old homes on our boulevard once fronted the sea, but some
enterprising city leaders with vision and resources decide to fill in the sea
and claim this area as public park land.
This reminds me of
how the people of
The tree-lined,
seaside parkland in
A public bathing
area has been carved out of the sea too.
Actually there are two, one is old and seems to have been relegated to
fishermen and old folks.
The bathing areas
are interesting. They are not beaches
(this is not a beach community, but a port town really). In each, there is a building built out over
the water. Off to the right side of the
main building is a series of bleachers.
These face the shoreline and are parallel to it. People stretch out on the benches to soak up
the sun, dry off or to watch people bathe.
The large swimming area is staked out in the water below.
The swimming area
does not seem inviting to me, but I am certainly not an avid swimmer. I look forward to seeing how crowded the
bleachers are during the hot summer months.
I have been told
there are people who swim in the sea all year round. They are a hearty bunch I imagine.
One woman I met
practices a philosophy which requires her to bathe twice daily in cold
water. This ritual is in part, a
penance, and, in part, a health regime.
She also swims with the Seals (people who swim in the
It is autumn now
and the wind off the sea has more of a bite each day. The park may not seem so inviting in a few
weeks.
·
Sunday, 2 October 2005
Happiness
cannot be traveled to, owned, earned, worn or consumed. Happiness is the
spiritual experience of living every minute with love, grace, and gratitude.
- Dennis Waitley
The Old Part of Town …
The street east of
our building and parallel to the park is divided by a narrow boulevard that
channels vehicle traffic in either direction.
On either side of the street are a row of densely-planted conifer trees
which shield pedestrians from the street.
At night the trees tend to obscure the streetlight and make the sidewalk
very dark. Since there are not many cars
on the street, we often stroll on the street itself.
Walking north from
our flat, keeping the sea to our right, our quiet boulevard merges with a major
street where one can catch a bus, trolley or marshutka to another part of the
city. I like to cross that avenue and
wander up another tree-lined street where there are several rather
elegant-looking restaurants. This street
is at the base of the Mitridate Mound, a 90-plus meter hill which dominates the
city center. There are 2,000 steps
leading up the hillside to the ancient Panticapaeum acropolis ruins (circa 500
BC) and the spectacular view of the bay at the top.
This short street
winds around the base of the hill and ends in a large park and a plaza. There is a school on one side of the street
and there is often music pouring out over the park. Many days I have seen teachers conducting
physical education classes in the park – children racing about under one of the
statues of Lenin, teachers blowing on whistles and looking at stopwatches.
On the edge of the
actual plaza here at the end of
On Friday and
Saturdays, this monument is a popular site for wedding parties to
congregate. Brides and grooms walk down
the few blocks from the registry building where the ceremonies take place and
have their photos taken here. Often the
bride will leave behind a bouquet of flowers.
There are other monuments to be visited by wedding parties too. People sometimes rent a car, bus or a
marshutka so the wedding party can travel from monument to monument paying
respects.
·
Saturday, 1 October 2005
Turn your face to the sun, and the shadows will fall behind you.
-
Unknown
The Bazaar Experience…
I love to
people-watch, so going to the bazaar is high on my list of activities.
Getting There….
This morning we
decide to take the electric trolleybus across town to the
Taking public
transportation here is almost a sport.
You must be strong
enough to stand your own ground once you manage to get through the door and jockey
a position on the vehicle. At each stop
more people attempt to pile inside the car, but of course there are people
pushing from behind, attempting to get off the vehicle.
Often riders
cannot reach the hanging straps or bars and they must simply brace themselves
against others to keep from falling as the vehicle bounces along the city
streets.
Marshutkas (small
privately owned vans) cost a bit more to ride, but generally the number of
passengers is limited to the number of seats available.
Today, I find
myself crammed against the door. When we
arrive at our stop, a sea of passengers pours out, forcing me forward.
The day is bright
and clear. The street is place is
crowded with shoppers and people socializing in the crisp autumn air. People seem especially well dressed today and
I observe many people purchasing flowers and candy. Children are well-groomed and in festive
clothing. These signs indicate that
today is some kind of holiday or celebration, but everyday seems a bit like a
celebration here.
Second-Hand Vendors…
We stroll up the
street just outside the actual market area.
Along the canal that bisects the city, there is a long row of unofficial
vendors who spread their wares on blankets on the ground. These are the second hand dealers. There are old military campaign buttons for
sale and chipped china, used shoe and boots, clothing of all types, hand-knit
socks and all the usual paraphernalia from people’s lives. I see a samovar and some metal teacup holders
which slow me down a bit, as I eye them carefully. I do not buy today.
The venders in
this section sit on stools and visit with one another. They eat sunflower seeds. Many of the old women knit socks as they
while away the hours. The men congregate
and sometimes cast lines into the murky canal waters. It seems unlikely any fish live there, but of
course fishing is sometimes about camaraderie and not about fish.
Closer to the
bazaar are second-hand book venders and then there are my favorites: the people
selling cats and dogs.
With all the stray
animals, it is hard to imagine who buys these creatures, but there are always
women with baskets filled with kittens and men hovering over boxes containing
puppies. My limited language skills do
not matter when I coo and ahh over the animals.
These feelings transcend language among animal lovers.
The
We finally reach
the actual central market, a sprawling series of small metal kiosks, wooded
structures, and improvised tents set up around several permanent
structures. The main buildings include a
place for venders to sell milk and dairy products, a building for fish and
meat, and a few other buildings.
Most of the
vendors here work out of tent like structures packed as closely together as the
people on the bus were!
The venders sell
everything from household items, to shoes and cosmetics. There is a section where fruits and
vegetables are sold and an area where fabric and curtains are available. Bathroom
products are in one area and flowers and seeds in another. The list goes on and you can wander around
for hours exploring and watching as people conduct business and socialize.
We make several
purchases including a large potted yellow mum to brighten our kitchen. We also buy a few daffodil bulbs and a
couple iris rhizomes. It is nice to
imagine them blossoming in the area under our kitchen window next spring.
We buy a soap dish
that will stick to the bathroom tile and a rug for outside the shower. We buy emergency candles (in case the power
fails) and a pretty yellow candle to enhance our meals at our kitchen
table. I find some blue and white cotton
napkins and buy four, in case we have guests.
We purchase tomatoes, cucumbers, radishes, pears, and carrots.
Each purchase is
made at a different booth. We carry the fabric tote bags we use for shopping
and tuck each item into our bags. I see
few tote bags and even fewer baskets. The local people prefer to bring their own
plastic bags to carry their purchases.
At midday, we seat
ourselves at a café on the canal. Mark
orders a couple sandwiches which resemble wraps filled with shaved chicken,
cabbage and a red sauce. We sip on the
ever popular “chai”.
People around us
also drink chai. Many have longneck
beers and some have purchased shots of vodka.
People sip and talk. Ashtrays are
available and many people smoke. Some
people pull snacks from their bags and eat them along with the drinks they
purchase. At one table, a group of men
and women order a large bottle of water and several glasses. They alternate between sipping water and
doing shots of vodka which the man somewhat surreptitiously pours from a bottle
he carries in his bag.
This is a social
event. Married couples make arrangements
to meet at the café after they have finished their shopping and linger for a
while. It is obvious it is a weekly
ritual for some.
After our late
lunch we walk home.
This is where we
end our bazaar experience for this week.
Everyone Carries a Plastic bag…
I will digress
here a bit (what a surprise!) and comment on the popularity of the humble
plastic bag.
In
I find it amusing
that everyone in this country seems to carry a plastic bag. Regardless of the setting, people have their
preferred plastic bag with them. These
bags can be purchased at the bazaar for a few kopeks or grinvia, but people
tend to use the same one over and over and over. When they make their plastic bag purchase
they consider sturdiness and the look of the bag too.
It is
understandable to see people at the bazaar or supermarket with a plastic bag in
tow, but you will see them strolling along the elegant, tree-lined,
Of course some of
this is because people tend to use public transportation and therefore shop
often. One stops enroute to or from work
to pick up items before boarding the bus or marshutka, so a plastic bag is
necessary to hold those purchases.
People also use their plastic bags to carry their paperwork or even a
laptop computer, much like a brief case really.
Many bags contain a bit of lunch and a bottle of water or vodka
too.
So, we are a bit
of an enigma with our fabric tote bags and our rucksack with the