Friday, November 23, 2007

11.16.07 chores

Last night I hung out with my new host family for a while. It's funny and irrational, but there's this part of me that thinks: You shouldn't talk about your other family with this family. What can I say--I'm a one family kinda gal! I'm cheating on one family with another. ah ha haha. I know it's stupid, and I talk about them anyway.

It started snowing last night. It's still snowing. I walked in the deep snow with my host dad. He's a really nice guy and I covet his bag. It's like this tiny little briefcase. Big enough to stick letters and keys and money in and yet smaller than a woman's purse and bigger than a wallet. I covet it. He's a really cool guy. Last night he took me around town to run errands. I needed to get my pants mended, to change some money, go to the internet club, and to the post office.

First we went to get my pants mended. My pants were waaay too long. Seriously. The reason these women wear 10 inch heels is so their pants hems aren't dragging in mud! I'm a shorty and my pants were always getting muddy. So for a mere 12G I was able to get them mended. I never would have found this place on my own. First, it's out in nowhereland. By a big bazaar and around a corner. I think I saw Lady and the Tramp there. Not the movie, the actual dogs. That's how hidden it was. So we rounded this corner in an alley and walked up these dark stairs. Had I been there by myself I would have sworn the building was closed, that no one had ever been there, that it was abandoned. Nope. We walked through the dark, up a few flights of stairs and through a door and BAM, there was light. He asked for a woman and we were led through a hallway, passing open doors filled with women, clothes, and sewing machines. It was awesome.

We finally met the woman and she had me put on my pants-to-be-altered. She marked them with white chalk and I took them off, put on my jeans, and handed my pants to her. She asked me a question about the hem--how I wanted it to look, and I got to bust out with my favorite phrase: Vso ravno. It means everything is the same-or-I don't care. She smiled and told my host dad they'd be done in about 40 minutes. So we went to do other tasks.

We went to attempt to change money. I emphasize attempt. If you come to Ukraine, DON'T FOLD YOUR DOLLARS! Seriously. They have this super fancy checking machine that has stages. The first stage is to put it under this security camera. Then they run it through an auto machine. If it is too folded it won't even pass the first stage. If it's too folded and somehow passes stage one, it won't go through the auto machine. We went to two places. The first took two of my one dollar bills but not my 10. The second place took my other one, but not my 10. I'm going to try ironing it. Grrr. I covet my host dad's brief-purse.

So the next was the post office. You'll be happy to know that, just like in America, they're slow. It's like a slice of home life. We waited and waited. I finally sent something out. A letter to my best gal pal in the US, and one to my language teacher who is leaving our group. It said in Russian: Thank you. You are good teacher. After I get apartment, I want to invite you and your wife to be guests. I will cook!

I'm proud of my language skills.

So now I'm at work, in my short pants and ready for my workshop. More about that later.

11.15.07 English Clubs

Today I went to an English Club here in Zhytomyr. My host sister was going and invited me along. I was really excited about this opportunity because part of the site assessment is seeing what the resources are, seeing what's happening in the community, etc. My host sister mentioned it was religious and my first question was: Mormon? Of course!

So we walk to this apartment. It's just started snowing slightly, there's mud everywhere, and we're cold. We walk inside the apartment and it's even colder than outside, and the floors look like they have colored contact paper on them. It's very 70s. And no one takes off their shoes, hence the scotch-guarding. We meet the two elders: Elder Paulsen and (ack! I can't remember the Ukrainian man's name). My host sister and I are the only two there to start with, and I'm asking questions about Mormons in Ukraine (they're the only two in Zhytomyr) and about his service, how they advertise, how they don't make it seem sleezy (come to my apartment and learn English, young woman), etc.

There ended up being a total of four students and one grandfather who came. E.Paulsen did the "invent your own country" lesson, which I've done before. The group decides their name, what their business is, what their language is, etc. Afterward I couldn't help but do my job. Seriously. I couldn't just go. So I asked him my Teacher Trainer questions: What did you like about this lesson? What would you have changed about it? I gave him some suggestions as well: put the chairs in a circle so they can see each other when they are speaking. Read up on the communicative method so that it's more student focused rather than teacher focused. Have a section on the board to leave up new words. And point with a pen rather than your finger. Seriously. In Ukraine, the teachers don't point to the board with their fingers. I have no idea why. But his Ukrainian partner totally nodded. ha ha ha.

So yeah, scoping out my site and found the Mormons. Rulz.

11.15.07 coat shopping

I went on an adventure the other day. My host sister and I had looked at coats at the big bazaar and on Saturday night my mother called to tell me she had put some money in my account for me to use to buy a coat and boots. So on Sunday my host sister was working and I couldn't find a single person to go with me. I decided to go it on my own.

I knew the direction, and I knew where to catch the bus. I was able to ask the woman standing at the stop which bus went there (I was also able to understand her). It was getting pretty nasty out--my coat was covered in slush, because it was sort of snow-raining or rain-snowing or slushing. Take your pick. I learned that umbrellas are awesome when it snows. Who knew? So I'm waiting for the bus in the slush with my umbrella. I get on the bus and while on the bus I'm able to ask the bus driver if the next stop is mine (it was), and I get off the bus at the big church and bazaar.

I slush my way over to the bazaar, with a vague notion of which way the coat woman was. I pass by the mayo-pizza vendors, stopping to buy a potato perogie. I get into the bazaar and can't find the coat woman. I walk up and down the aisles, looking at the different coat fashions, for about half an hour.


The Ukrainian Bazaar in winter

Ukrainian coats are interesting. Ukrainian women LOVE fur or at least fake fur [They really do love their real fur]. They also love lots of buckles and shineys on their coats. It's great. They also love leather. Leather + fur + sparkley buckles = Ukrainian love. I really love just looking. I did find my way into a different section. I've decided that Ukrainian bazaars are a living thing. A shy living thing. Know how turtles hide their heads and feet and tail? Well the bazaars are a bit like that. Unless you know there's more there you think that's it. Then you wander for a bit--waiting, and the turtle pokes its head out and you find a big pocket of the bazaar you would have sworn wasn't there. Either that or it's fairies messing with me.

So I found the pocket with the coat lady. I bought the coat I'd been eyeing--it was 350 griven, then I found a boot vendor. The bazaar fairies were kind to me that day. Have I explained about Ukrainian boots? They are knee high, covered in buckles and sequins, and have 10 inch stilleto heels. Or at least that's how it looks. Also, the women have stick legs, small feet, and no concept of sore feet. So I happen to find the one pair of short boots with no heels and are big enough to fit me. It was a miracle. A Christmas miracle. They are full of fake fur, so my feet are WARM! And they were only 125g. Awesome.


Me with my coat

I then went over to the yarn booth. At home, buying yarn is a relatively straightforward thing. You do have many options, but in general everything is laid out for you and you can touch and see everything. The yarn booth at the bazaar is different. It's more like a drive through. All the yarn is behind the counter, the woman speaks another language, and it's a gamble. I told her I wanted yarn to go with my coat (which is red and black) and I wanted thick, not thin. This sounds like there were no problems. It took me 20 minutes between her helping other people and me grabbing my dictionary and looking up words. She picked out a somewhat fuzzy black/red yarn. I thought it was too similar and I asked if I should have a different color. She and the other Ukrainian woman were emphatic that THIS was the right color. ХОРОШО horosho, which means "good". So I bought two of them and went on my merry way.

Check and mate.

11.14.07 New Family, New Town

After six weeks, Peace Corps has all its trainees go for a site visit. During this time we meet the family we will live with for one month, we meet our Ukrainian counterpart (the teacher we will work with closely for the next two years), and we get to see our workplace. We are gone from our original site for about a week, we get to bond with one another and then go to our sites, then come back together for a few days and then back on to our sites.

I didn't realize how necessary this was. Mixing it up a little. Training is strange--you are in this small little bubble, you are learning language, you see the same people every day all day, you just need a change of pace. You need to see the friends you left at Orientation, you just need a break. Plus, you get to know where you'll be, and that's really exciting, or nerve wracking, depending on how you look at it.

Site placement is this big "hush hush" event. They keep it "top secret" until we all get together and they reveal it in front of everyone. That said, a handful of people will always know ahead of time--Peace Corps tells current volunteers who is coming to their areas, they have it in their office, etc. Some people are very upset that others know their sites, others, like me, don't care.

So yesterday I got up really early to go over to McDonalds, since that's where the marshrootka to Kyiv is. I was waiting for my friend--we were going to go together, and we were supposed to meet at 8. Well, in the hustle and bustle of packing excitement, host mom excitement, I ended up somehow leaving my house at 7am! I got there 45 minutes early. And waited in the freezing cold. yep, it was a great morning. Did I mention that there was about 4 or 5 inches of snow on the ground? Yeah.

He arrives at 8, as planned, and a few other volunteers came as well. We grabbed some snacks for the road and got in to the marshrootka. They told us to pack lightly, since we would be gone for 8 days and had to transport our own stuff. I was worried about my one bag + laptop bag + plastic bag. I stopped worrying when one volunteer showed up with a suitcase big enough to smuggle a small family across the border. We were all chatting and having fun, then settled in for the trip. Which involves being antisocial and listening to music. For me, it usually involves sleep.

I honestly can't remember if I slept. Yesterday feels a bit blurry. I remember looking at the scenery. Ukraine is full of amazingly bright colors. Blues and greens, reds and oranges. It's really pretty when all the fences are lined up and there is a parade of bright colors that passes you. It's a nice contrast to the snow everywhere. So maybe I slept. Probably I slept. But I don't remember.

We get to Kyiv and get on the metro and take it over to our stop, then transfer to another marshrootka. We end up at our little "soviet era" hotel. A couple of volunteers are on one of the balconies and we all shout greetings to one another. Several volunteers are down in the lobby, along with mail (I had no idea how much it FEELS like mail = love, but it does!), and check in. We get to choose our own roommates, but there are three to a room. I check in and put down Suzy as my roommate, as planned, and go up to the room to drop off my stuff.

The room is small but adequate. There are great big windows, so we got a great view of the snow, and a balcony, three beds, a small end table, a dresser for our clothes, and a bathroom. I staked out a bed and went on the balcony and saw Suzy's group. I shout to her, as I am an American and must let the world know, and run downstairs. The situation is now Social +3 and rising. We choose another girl to room with and all settle our stuff in.

That night we have our dinner and after dinner The Site Placement. Ukraine is a huge country, and we placed all 80something of us all around that country. One friend of mine got Odessa, another ended up in Crimea, and I got my site: Zhytomyr. They placed the rest of the groups, which was really hard to pay attention to, as my body was constantly reminding me that I'd had quite a bit to drink. Funny how ceremonies seem that much longer when you have a pressing need.

So, Zhytomyr. What did I know about Zhytomyr? Nothing. I'm a pretty ignorant person when it comes to world geography/politics/history, etc. Ask me anything about Joss Whedon or Battlestar Galactica, and I'm your gal. Ask me to tell you anything about parts of the world and I really don't know. I did find out many of the LCFs are from Zhytomyr, which is really neat, and our Adopt a Cluster person is about 30 minutes from there, and it's about 2 hours away from Kyiv. Score! The really funny thing is this: before I shipped out for Peace Corps--after I was given my job title and country, I looked up Teacher Trainer blogs online. And I came across one from a guy named Daniel. Sure enough, I have his old site. How ironic is that?

We received a piece of paper telling us a little bit: the name of the institute we'd be working at, the name of the person we'd be working with, the approximate population, etc. Suzy's was <5,000. Mine was 100,000-500,000. Or how I like to say it: it's 100,000 give or take 400,000.

We had a break and then met with our regional manager. She's an amazing woman and very funny. There are people who say things to you like: tell me if you have any problems, but the real feeling is that you wouldn't bother. Then there are people who tell you to report any problems and go on to say things like "if there is a problem with food, with family, with site, with X, with Y" and they really let you know that they want things to go well. This woman is the second kind. Which I really appreciate. You want to know that the person you'll be reporting to for the next few years really cares. I lucked out.

So during the meeting we met all the people who will be in our region--I think there are 10 or 12 of us. Thankfully I really like the people there. We also found out who our host families are going to be: names, ages, and pets. So my family consists of a mom and dad, both early 40s, and a 19 year old daughter and 17 year old son. Totally sweet.

The meetings were finally over and we were able to relax. One of the volunteers had contacted me earlier and mentioned she was having a Firefly withdrawal. Firefly is the name of one of the best tv shows ever made, and I'm a big fan. So I brought both the tv show and the movie that was made about it: Serenity. So we're downstairs waiting for one of our friends to get back. I start having a conversation about Star Trek with one of the gals, and we're geeking out chatting about Klingons and Next Generation and I invite her to watch Serenity with us.

We head up to my room and it's cold. Really cold. I set up my laptop and get the movie ready. My friend comes back with two beers for sharing, and we all huddle around the room. We are decked out with blankets and coats and flip off the lights and watch Serenity together. Really, this was a moment of perfect happiness for me. I've felt a bit isolated and like I haven't fit in, and this was a moment when I was doing what I loved and people were doing it with me because they wanted to hang out with me. It was really amazing. Plus, I got to do one of my other favorite things: introduce my favorite tv shows to new people. Three people in the room had never seen Firefly. It was awesome. When it was finished, B and I watched an episode of Angel. It was such a great night.

Sadly, sleep wasn't so amazing. Our room was FREEZING. I slept with my coat on. My warm winter coat and scarf. I had my cuddle blanket with me and I slept with it over my head. I woke up in the morning exhausted, yet in good spirits because I really like the gals I shared a room with. We were deciding on showers. We then decided we'd rather stay in our warm clothes than get undressed and take a maybe-warm shower.

I've learned a few things about myself since coming to Ukraine. First, I learned that I'd rather be stinky than be cold. Really. If I had to take a freezing cold bucket bath, I'd limit my bathing to once a week. Probably. Second, I learned that if you sleep in the clothes you're going to wear the next day it builds up heat and you can be warm throughout the day. I'd rather keep on the shirt I wore to bed last night than change into a freezing cold new shirt. It's a strategy. If I'm going to wear this long sleeved shirt under my sweater, I'll wear it at night in a freezing cold place. It's an excellent strategy. I also have learned that I enjoy comfort. I was listening to other people's stories, and while they're fascinating, I am so thankful that I don't have an "interesting" life, full of outhouses and bucket baths.

One of the women who currently lives in Chernigov with me is going to be living in Zhytomyr as well. She's studying Russian as well, and she's an older volunteer. I suggested to her that we have dinner parties in Zhytomyr, and her response was an enthusiastic YES! I also asked her if she were interested in studying Russian together, and again, a YES!

After having felt so left out of things in Chernigov, it was really nice to have my invitation accepted enthusiastically. When we left to go to Zhytomyr we started talking, and we were having similar experiences within Chernigov, and it was really nice to bond that way. I'm really happy that she's going to be in the same city with me. I'm really happy about it--she's very nice and kind, and has a very interesting life. Plus, she's totally interested in having Sunday brunches and doing trips to Kyiv, etc. I'm really excited.

So we get into Zhytomyr and I'm greeted by a beautiful young woman and a man. First I'm confused--I wonder if she's my counterpart or host family. She's my host sister and the man is my host father. Things are a little overwhelming and I forget all my manners--like saying that it's very nice to meet you. We're waiting for the other woman's people to meet her, so we're waiting around and unsure of what's happening, then her counterpart shows up and we hug goodbye.

Peace Corps Trainees get really nervous about host families. And it's natural. What's this family going to be like? Will they like me? Will they be nice? Where will I be living. It's easy to forget that they have the EXACT same thing going on. They get butterflies and nervous--will the volunteer like us, will she like our cooking, will she like our house, will she be nice and talk to us? It's just as stressful for them as it is for us. I am happy to say that I am really happy with my host family and where I'll be staying. It's one thing to feel like a guest and another thing to feel like family. Feeling like a guest means you feel apart. You are honored, but you are separate. I want something closer.

When I came into the house I was given a small tour. There is a really large living room with a tv in it, my bedroom has a desk and a computer and big comfortable hide-a-bed chair and large wardrobe. The walls are a bright cheery yellow, with small geometric designs on them. There is a large window and green and white curtains. The floors are hardwood with rugs over them. There is a washing machine in the bathroom along with a shower/tub. There is a toilet room, and the mother/father's room. The kitchen is near the front door. It's really nice. The mother was talking really fast in Russian and the daughter was translating. You could tell she was excited nervous and was trying to make a good impression. She was showing me where things were in the kitchen--honey, cooking things, dishes, etc. Then she did the thing that made me feel very included. She had me help set the table and put things on the table. She included me. It felt really nice. Then she said I was family. I don't think I could have asked for a nicer new family to stay with.


My Ukrainian family!

For dinner I had borsch (they'd had some borsch already), and we all ate potatoes and cucumbers and bread. I told them I love to try everything even though I don't enjoy all foods. So I tried all her food and really enjoyed it! We had some wine and shots of vodka. Apparently it's a Ukrainian tradition to have every third toast to be for women. So the father and the brother stood up and toasted to the women, orating nicely. It was really great. After food I brought out my atlas and was showing about Washington. We were talking about differences in America. Apparently Daniel had been to or was from Florida and said that crocodiles/alligators weren't so scary, etc. I said that that was normal for him, but I live in Washington where these don't live and they're very scary to me. I feel like part of my "job" here is to show the diversity of America. They asked me if it was a tradition that Americans don't talk while they eat. I told her it might be true in some houses, but in my house in America we always talk and eat. "How was your day? How was work?"

I grabbed my laptop and started showing pictures. I showed pictures of Chernigov and the mother said "you should take pictures of more pretty things." This was in response to taking pictures of "normal" or "not so pretty" things, like the route I walk to work. I thought I gave an excellent answer. I told her that I wanted to show my friends and family things they can't see in a book. I want to show them my every day life. I want them to feel like they are there. And sure enough, after all the pictures the daughter told me that the mother had said that even though she had never been to Chernigiv she felt like she had been. I told her that was exactly what I wanted.

The room I'm staying in here is the brother's old room. While I live here he's living with his grandmother, who lives close. He's currently a student. The mother said he is enjoying his independence! The daughter sleeps in the living room, and the parents in the other bedroom. I've really learned a lot about Ukrainians in the six weeks I've been here. I've learned that if you are in their inner circle, they will share everything with you. Even their last piece of bread. It's a true "we" culture, and they take care of people. Of course, it's also expected that this be reciprocated, so getting things for the family or giving gifts, or buying food to share is a great way to give back. Chocolates or wine, or small gifts really go a long way. I love buying flowers--it makes me feel like I'm giving to everyone. I've also learned that Ukrainians are very tidy. Their spaces tend to be smaller, so it's usual for someone to sleep in the living room or to get beds that turn into chairs/couches. Because of this, it's essential to keep things tidy--because everyone shares space. Along those lines, everything has multiple uses. Chairs are also storage spaces, knives are potato and carrot peelers, that Hugo Boss plastic bag is used for carrying things to work, etc. I've also learned that Americans generate a LOT of trash. In a Ukrainian home there may be one garbage can (or two--one in the bathroom for toilet paper) and it's SMALL. It's about the size we'd use as a bathroom trash can. Bedrooms don't have trash cans. I also found that I generated as much (if not more) trash than the entire family combined. And I have no idea how.

10.14.07 poop

I'm not as mature as you'd think.

Today I helped my host mom make borsch. Well, she made it and I watched, wrote down directions and took pictures (recipe to follow!!!). Part of the process is making chicken broth, which involved chopping up a whole chicken into about five or six sections and boiling it in a pot of water and skimming off the scum. While she was stirring it up I noticed something funky--it was a part of the chicken that looked green. I pointed at it and she said "poop."

I'm totally not kidding.

A smile involuntarily erupted on my face and I said "Poop?" trying to hold back laugher. She said it again "POOP." and then pointed at my belly and said "JULIA POOP".

That's when I lost it.

I started laughing and couldn't stop. She started speaking in Russian and her speech was riddled with Poop. This was how it sounded to me:

"ajigojaijgPOOPjaiojigoajPOOPjapogijpsPOOPajogaiopPOOP."

At this point I was bent over and tears were streaming out my eyes and I was practically convulsing with laughter every time she said POOP.

Turns out POOP means belly button, but when talking about Chickens, it means the stomach.

10.14.07 Miles and miles of mayo.

Really--people in Ukraine LOVE their mayo. White creamy sauces are their favorites. If it's not mayo it's sour cream or whole milk.

I was in the store and I couldn't believe how many different kinds of mayo were available. So I took a video of all of it. I call it "miles of mayo".

If you ever come to eat in Ukraine, ready your stomachs. You will get your dinner on a plate or a bowl, finish it and think you are done. But no. You will then get a second plate FILLED with food. You look in dismay at how much food is on the plate, but you steady yourself for this marathon eating event, with the end goal in sight. Finally you cross that finish line and think you are done, but NO. There's one more plate there, set in front of you with JUST as much food.

By this time you have eaten some food that is great, some that is okay, and some that you would be happy if you never ate again. Whatever you've eaten, at this point you feel like they could roll you out of the room, and they're pushing the plate toward you saying EAT EAT EAT in a loud voice. You think you're going to be sick from eating SO MUCH FOOD, but you don't want to be rude, and everyone keeps insisting regardless of the "help me" look in your eyes, so you slowly start to eat. You can't attack it with the gusto you had to begin with, because your stomach is screaming at you "what the hell! Are you trying to kill me!?" and you MAYBE finish. And finally you're done.

Nope. Now there's the blintzes (pancakes that you eat with sour cream) and chai and cookies and cakes.

I'm not lying to you. That's how almost every one of my dinners has been. I noticed that my host sister wasn't expected to eat nearly as much as I was, so I said "HEY--Why doesn't she EAT EAT EAT" and she says (and I'm so not lying) "You are eating for two" I yell HEY, I'M NOT PREGNANT!!! What her meaning was: I was eating supper and dinner--so I was eating two meals at once.

Yeah, losing weight while living with a host family is IMPOSSIBLE. At least tonight I was able to totally refuse the hot dog. I also told her I'd try a little of everything on Tuesday (her birthday), but I'm trying to steel my stomach for all the mayo dishes.

I just hope they don't make me eat "poop". (see the "poop" post)

10.14.07 interNOT

Sometimes we think we know what we hear, but really we don't.

When we were at our tech meeting, we were all talking about the different kinds of schools in Ukraine. There are gymnasiums, which focus on humanities, and lyceums, which focus on scientifics, and someone in our group said "and there are also internet schools, too, right?"

He was really impressed that Ukraine had internet schools--what he pictured to be high tech, wired schools.

Instead, what it's called is interNOT, which is a school for orphans. Just a little bit different. Still really funny and it took a good five minutes to restore order to our group.

10.13.07 Red, Blonde, Pink.

Those are the colors that 80% of the women in Ukraine have as hair color. It's almost hard to find brown or black hair! And when I say red, I mean Very Bright like a brilliant burgundy or fire engine red. And pink. Like pink. And apparently these colors are totally appropriate for teachers to have. Wild! I may end up dying my hair red if it's not too spendy.

My house: Okay, first of all it's on the fifth floor. I think I climb 60 stairs to get up to it. I already mentioned about the wild locking mechanism, and after you open the door, there's an inner door that's padded like a vinyl seat cushion. The dog then greets you--well, she greets me and would bark at you because she doesn't know you, of course!

You walk into a room and there's a...I can't remember the English word for it...it's like a small dresser that comes up to about your knees and has three tall mirrors on it so you can see your hair from all sides. On that dresser is the phone. Your shoes go to your right.

To the right is the kitchen, forward is the living room/my host parents' bedroom. To the left is the hallway and the first door on the left is the toilet room. Just a toilet. It's got a padded seat, which is going to be super nice when it's freezing and I won't have to set bare skin on subarctic temperature porcelain! The next door on your left is the bathroom. There's a bathtub, a mirror to your left, and a small washing machine to the right.

Straight down the hall is Tanya's room, and to the right is my room. My room has wallpaper on it--a grey/black floral design. It looks very 80s to me. My bed is pretty large, and there are massive cabinets every where. I have a table and chair for studying, and there's a balcony in my room where the laundry is often hung.

My routine: In the morning I wake up to my alarm. It's the Superman theme. Then I tell it to wake me up in 10 minutes. Then I tell it wake me up in 5 minutes. I then get up and fold my blanket and put it in the cabinet, I fold my sheet and cuddle blanket and put them in the cabinet, I put my pillows in the cabinet, shut it, straighten the decorative blanket on the bed and put on the decoration pillows. By this time my host mom has gotten up and peeked her head in to say good morning and has started breakfast. I put my stuff for class on the bed along with my bag. I pick out my clothes and change from my yummy fleece pajamas to long underwear, black pants, formal shirt and sweater. I then go eat too much breakfast. Always have coffee or chai. I sit on the side of the tub and brush my teeth using the bathtub as a sink. I then apply makeup, throw my crap in my bag and leave for my lesson.

Dom Dva. I have hit the jackpot. It means "House 2". Think Top Model meets Big Brother only with more rolling in flour (thank you, Amy, for giving me this description). Thanks to the power of my camera, I have recorded bits of Dom Dva for your viewing pleasure. Sadly, I missed most of the part where the model was attacking her boyfriend--I did catch the tail end where she was flailing her fists at him and crying. This is High Drama. Think the Puck season of Real World. Exactly--this is Real World, Russia! The commercials are pretty damn funny as well--I took a video of those.

My host mom gave me a shirt. It's so Ukrainian! It's a light blue/grey color and it's ANIMAL PRINT! Sweet! I've never owned anything animal print and now I do. I'll be the most fashionable PCV here! heh.

Today I had a tiny bit of a tough day. I've noticed that Ukrainians have their personal volume set about two notches higher than Americans. Or they're doing what we do when people can't speak English--you speak louder. ^_^. My host sister often tells me what to do in a very matter of fact way "Julia, EAT. Julia, GO TO BED. Julia, GO TO BATH."


My first host sister

Which is fine and I take these as a) a rite of passage b) temporary c) a way of showing care. But still, there's a lot of loud directed my way and I absorb it well, I think. So my host sister and I went out to the 75th anniversary celebration of Chirnihiv being made capital city of this Oblast, and we were going around to food vendors and I was asking her what things were, and she yelled at me "I DON'T KNOW." I kind of lost it internally and held it in. A little later when I thought I was composed I said "Please don't yell at me for asking you what something is." Only my stupid eye started leaking and she said "please don't cry--I'm sorry." I have no idea why it got to me all at once, but it did. I think every once in a while things just overwhelm, and there's enough here that's NEW and DIFFERENT that sometimes really small things can tip over the internal order that was much more precariously perched than you realized.

10.12.07 I'm culturally sensitive and appropriate!

You have no idea how relieved I am to know that the posts I'd bookmarked for public entry in my other blog were approved! The director even remarked that my writing was very interesting!

Trying to talk about differences without sounding like you are making judgments is more difficult than you would think. Take the salo. It's literally a slice of pig fat you eat on bread. When you describe it, what words would you use? Whatever you thought about it, however much you are turning up your face at it right now, be aware it is "Ukrainian Narcotic." They love it and can't get enough of it. I tried it and didn't think it was bad.

Thankfully I've had the experiences of being an ESL teacher, and I've had the opposite experience: telling students to try something and they turn their face up at it. They judge it before they try it, they refuse to try it, they make faces. And here I am telling them about a wonderful thing! I wonder how they describe what I was talking about.

More about Ukraine!

First thing is first: When you enter the home, TAKE OFF YOUR SHOES! Really. This means always wearing your best socks. Unless you're in school, you will constantly be taking your shoes off. And since you wash your socks and undies by hand, make sure you don't get white. Nothing says "gross!" like dingy white (now grey) socks. Second: WASH YOUR HANDS! My host mom is constantly motioning for me to wash my hands. Ha ha! I've beat her at her own game and so far have had my hands washed by the time she's said it to me. Thirdly: if you're visiting, BRING A GIFT! Btw, it's okay to leave the price tag on here! I was giving my host mom a small dessert and, while walking, I was starting to tear off the price tag and my host sister looked at me strange and said "what are you doing?" Well, duh! It's rude to give a gift with the price tag on. Not here. In the US I've received gifts with the tags on and the person noticed, grabbed it out of my hand after I'd seen the price, pulled off the price tag and handed it back to me. Okay, to be fair, I've done that as well. Here, apparently not a big deal. Oh, and lastly: remember that if there's a trash can in the bathroom, put your used paper in there. I've probably mentioned it a few times already and will probably mention it a few times more, but it would be really embarrassing to forget and have the toilet back up and have someone talking in loud Ukrainian or Russian about your bathroom business. I'm not speaking from experience. I swear. Really.

Today: Today was a great day. I went to bed WAAAY too late last night. I was writing a huge long email to friends and had to read a lot of pages for my homework. I woke up in the middle of the night because my door was squeaking open. I swear I would kill for some beeswax and WD40. Really. Okay, not really. So I got up and threw a sock over the top of the door and it shut tight. Ah. My host mom, in the morning after I pantomimed the squeaky door (by the way I will TOTALLY PWN AT TIME'S UP when I finish my two year stint here), she said "JULIA" and walked me into my room and locked the door from the inside. Okay okay, but I only like to lock my door if I really need people to stay out. Is that strange? So I've now sacrificed a nowgrey sock to the door gods.

Breakfast was big, as usual. And dinner-like, as usual. I don't think most cultures have such clearly defined parameters for "breakfast food" as in the United States. Really. Don't believe me? Try serving cold cereal to your guests for dinner. Or pancakes and eggs and sausage for lunch. From what I've seen, most cultures don't delineate specifically "breakfast food." Of course I come from the one culture that does, and I wonder if I'll ever get used to it after 30 years of specific breakfast foods.

After breakfast, on to language. Yesterday we started learning how to use the present tense! Hooray! (I'm still hung up on wanting past tense!) So now instead of "Julia to wash" and pointing at the dishes, I can say "I wash" and point at the dishes. Rules! Also I can say "I study Russian!" and "I speak little Russian" (Ya gavaryou tchoot-tchoot Pa-Russky). I feel like a pro. And during language class I was able to match all the correct endings with the correct subjects. SCORE!

Today we started our unit on food. We activated prior knowledge and named all the foods we could. We got a lot, actually! We also got a lot of homework! Yai yai! After our lesson I had a tutoring session. I asked about some words. I'm such a language teacher--I'm constantly saying "that ending means that word is an adjective, right?" and things to that effect. For me, knowledge of the language is as important as learning phrases. Well, for my longer term goal. Of course I want to know how to say things like "Repeat please", but I do want to understand the cogs and inner workings of a language as well--it's the language teacher in me. I got a Russian magazine called "Good advice". My teacher helped me read through part of it. We looked at the recipe section and through the index. I'm really excited about the words I can recognize. Even later today when I heard people speaking out of context and I was able to connect that with meaning, it was so exciting!

After the lesson I made my way to the bazaar. I found my host mom's booth--she sells shirts and jackets, and I took oodles of pictures of the "Ukrainski fashion" for my "Amerikanski padrooga". I was able to ask them if I could take pictures ("Harasho?" and pointing at the camera) and able to indicate that in the US we don't bling out our jeans and don't usually wear runway model boots. So yeah, most of my pictures from the bazaar are of jeans butts (they were laid out and folded, not on people!) and boots. I got some great pictures of the bazaar as well--some booths and a great shot of the church overlooking the bazaar.

I also relearned the sneaky way of taking pictures. Looking like you're "Just holding" the camera down by your waist, but you're serruptitiously snapping pictures with your thumb. It's not that I'm trying to be all Cloak and Dagger, but people look at you strangely enough just because you're American, so having them not stare MORE is a good thing.

In the center I found a woman selling magazines outside. I bought a Russian Cosmo and told her I speak a little Russian and that I'm studying Russian. I saw she had a Harry Potter and was going to buy it but she said no and showed me that it was in Ukrainian! Good save!

I found a bookstore and blew my personal wad on a bigger Russian/English dictionary and a Russian Harry Potter. 45G!!! Wow. That's not a lot US, but it's a LOT here. But it's the one Russian book I really wanted to buy. My Russian Cosmo, Good Advice, Fantastic Four comic, and my Harry Potter are really all the Russian reading materials I need.

After the bookstore I went into the 2 Geese cafe. I bought some food and sat and internetted for over an hour. Did I mention I love the internet? I love WiFi. I like internet cafes, but I LOVE being able to use MY computer with its English default language that I can read all the warnings and 404 pages and understand all the menus. I really do.

I bought a Life :) card, but apparently it doesn't work! Argh. My host sister wants to go to the center with me tomorrow to talk to the boy who sold it to me. Okay okay. She was looking through my Cosmo and found a sample of this "untinted" foundation. Apparently "untinted" in Russia means you have quite the tan. After she smeared it on my face I smeared it on hers. It was very girlie. I'm having a lot of fun bonding with her. Apparently I translate the same to teenagers. All my teenage "friends" regardless of country end up mock punching me. What's up with that? It's fun and cute.

It was really nice to be able to talk to my host mom a little. I can REALLY see an improvement i my Russian. The first day I wasn't able to say ANYTHING to her, and today I was able to ask her if we were going to make borsch on Sunday (okay, I said "tomorrow tomorrow" for "the day after tomorrow", but still--communication!). I was also able to say "I wash" when she took my dish. hooray me!

Tomorrow is Chirnihiv's 75th birthday of being made the capital of this oblast. There are going to be lots of festivities in town. I'm pretty excited about it. It should be lots of fun.