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.