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The Lightyellow Journal
The regular disclaimer: The views expressed on this website are my own and in no way reflect those of the U.S. Peace Corps or any agency of the U.S. Government.
February 2005 - Settling In
Wednesday, February 9, 2005
Glad to be here
Written Monday in my notebook, waiting for my first class to begin:
Yesterday, walking in the bitter, bitter cold to the bazaar--and later to the internet club to check my email--I thought again how rarely I go anywhere in a car. Last weekend I took the Marshrutka (like a mini-van bus) to the post office instead of walking, and it was the first time in two weeks I'd been in an automobile. I don't usually miss cars, and I only noticed how long I'd gone without riding in a vehicle when I was sitting there thinking, "The last time I was in an automobile was the bus ride to Simferopol. That was 2 weeks ago today."
Yesterday I was wondering again (thanks to the cold and the snow) how long it had been--a week--and thinking how unlikely it was that I'd go anywhere by vehicle in the next week, maybe two. This was a pretty impressive thought. I wondered how long I could go? I would try to break the two-week record.
Walking to school this morning I go slowly--it's very, very slippery out, the sidewalks wavy, bumpy sheets of compacted snow. As I am leaving the Dimitriva Region (the community of huge apartment buildings where I live with my host family) a car pulls over, the door opens, and the director (principal) offers me a ride to school.
So I guess I won't be breaking that record this week.
After I wrote the above I went to the post office, where I finally received my first mail packet from Peace Corps in Kyiv; from now on I'll get them every two weeks. I had about 10 letters, plus administrative notices, a newspaper, a cookbook put together by the volunteers in Ukraine, and 4 Newsweeks. I devoured the letters first, then moved on to the magazines.
And reading all of this I suddenly realized how glad I am to be here, doing this thing that I've always wanted to do, but always worried would slip away from me in a constant stream of next years. (I wanted to be the Carrie that joined the Peace Corps, and not the Carrie who always meant to.) It hit me, finally, that I am here, no longer postponing the dream.
Reading random articles from Newsweek I suddenly started thinking about things I hadn't really thought about in almost 5 months. For all that the Orange Revolution made international waves, I've been pretty isolated. There was the first news I've had about the tsunami, beyond the brief news reports in a language I don't understand (Ukrainian) and passing mentions in too-short phone calls home. There are editorials about Bush's second term, reports of his inaugeral address. An interview with some of the actors up for Oscars. (The Oscars. I forgot about the Oscars!) Here's an article on VoiP, next to an article on Rumsfield and international defense spending.
Wow. I haven't thought about any of this stuff since I got to Ukraine. My life has been so full of just living, learning Russian, decrypting conversations with my host family, learning to teach, wondering when I'll finally get out there to buy a pair of pants that fit me. I worry about wanting a computer, think about the things I miss from the States, anxiously hope for mail, wonder when I'll next speak English with an American. I complain about the (quantity of) food, wish I had more stylish winter boots, despair of ever becoming fluent in Russian, agonize over lesson plans.
I think about how long it's been since I've ridden in a car.
I doubt I'll fall back into being so out-of-touch as I have been the last few months, but I must admit it's been nice. And I'm glad that these days I worry about whether the kids will think the lesson I have planned is fun, rather than whether I'll meet the deadline at work (which Newsweek tells me can increase your chances of having a heart attack by a factor of 6). Teaching is hard and a lot of the time I don't like it (I remind myself that the first year is always the hardest), but it's gratifying when the pupils are so obviously interested in me, when a class I sub for asks me to please come back, when I try something that I can see, yes, is working. Those are good feelings. Sometimes I think I'm not doing enough, but I've only been here (less than) two months--not everything can happen at once.
But there you go--a nice, introspective entry. (To follow the nice, materialistic entry. I should tell you that I wrote an even more materialistic entry, but decided I didn't want to let you all know I was quite that shallow, so I decided not to post it.)
Friday, February 11, 2005
Watching Clone
I swear that was Sinead O'Connor making an appearance on Clone tonight. Clone is a popular Brazilian soap opera that has been imported and dubbed in Ukrainian. It's on 5 nights a week, and I watch it every night with my host family. I'm not sure how long it's been running, but not more than a few months, so it probably only has another few months left. I'd give you a summary of the plot, but...well, it's a soap opera. A summary would take a long time.
Watching Clone is a bit of a surreal experience, because I think I should understand it, but I don't. The original language, which I can usually here a fair amount of underneath the dubbing, is Portuguese. Portuguese is close enough to Spanish that I almostfeel like I should be able to understand it. Ukrainian, the language it's dubbed to, is close enough to Russian that I feel like I should understand it.
It's an odd feeling.
Of course, if it were in Russian I probably still wouldn't understand everything, but more of it would make sense.
But what was Sinead O'Connor doing on a Brazilian soap? Was that really her? It sounded like her. It looked like her. But I thought she was off being monkish somewhere. Maybe she needed money?
So weird. Maybe it's my imagination.
[Note: I found out later it wasn't actually Sinead O'Connor, however much it looked like her.]
Sunday, February 13, 2005
I finally bought new pants
I've needed to do it for...well, a long time. At least a couple of months. I meant to go last weekend, but the weather kept us indoors. (It was deemed too slippery to go out.) But today I managed it, and it wasn't as bad as I was afraid it would be.
My tutor went with me. I was really glad when she offered to go with me, not just because she speaks English (although I'm not sure how well she speaks, since we generally speak in Russian). Albina is young, maybe 29, and fun to talk to. She is married and has a 4-year-old daughter; she teaches English at School Number 1 (I teach at School Number 2). I didn't want to go alone, because--funny as it sounds--I don't really know how to shop in Ukraine. Customs are different.
We started off by going to the Rinok, or bazaar near my home. The Rinok is hard to describe; it's mostly a bunch of little shops with a wall surrounding them; most shops have roofs, and some have doors. Others are open in the front. I think the Rinok is a little confusing, like a labyrinth. Right now it's very wet; the weather today is a bit above freezing, and the snow and ice are melting. There are puddles everywhere. Last night I heard rain against my window.
We went to one shop at the Rinok. I went behind an itty-bitty curtain hung on the wall (more coverage than I expected, actually), and tried on several pairs of black pants. The first pair I tried fit, the second was too tight, the third too shiny. So I bought the first pair. They were 75 hr, or about $15. (But I don't like to think in dollars. It's misleading.)
Then to "Jeans World" (Djinsi Mir in Russian), which is actually a store downtown. (Going to a store, as opposed to a market, somehow makes me happy. And there weren't any jeans at the Rinok.) There I bought a pair of ridiculously tight jeans. I also tried on a more American pair, but was told by 3 people that they did not look as good on me. (I thought I looked less fat in them, but decided to yield to popular opinion. As one person said, "You're in Europe now. Not America.") Albina said the American pair were jeans you "work" in, not at all stylish. "They're for women over 40."
So I bought the super-tight jeans.
When I came home my host family wanted to see them, of course. They approve.
But everyone tells me I need to buy new boots now. With heels! (Not going to happen. Not the heels part, anyway.) You know the popular idea that when you're in the Peace Corps you are generally unstylish, not worrying about appearance or clothing? Well. Not in Peace Corps Ukraine. I worry much more about fashion here than I ever did in America.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
Can you send me info on San Francisco?
I'm trying to write a lesson about San Francisco, and would love to have a little more information...maybe some demographics, a little history, a couple of black and white photos or drawings that I can print out? Some of your memories and a fact or two you think is important? Specific information, please no big links. I know those sites are out there, but they take a lot of time to go through, and I never have enough time online. Thanks! Also, computer update: I am now sidetracked by hearing that there's a Habitat for Humanity project this summer in Warsaw. Hmm.
Tuesday, February 22, 2005
And today a poem by Emily Dickinson
I took a poetry class in college on Emily Dickinson. Every week we read a handful of her poems, each student preparing an interpretation of one of them. Over the course of the semester we read most of her collected poems, and Emily Dickinson became (and still is) my favorite poet. (Although Shel Silverstein also holds a special place in my heart.)
Recently, going through the files on my computer in search of any materials I might be able to use in my classes, I found what must be a remnant of this class: a poem I'd typed and saved. So I had the chance to discover it anew, and find it now means more to me than it did before. I think it's beautiful, and want to share it with you:
‘Tis so much joy! ‘Tis so much joy!
If I should fail, what poverty!
And yet, as poor as I,
Have ventured all upon a throw!
Have gained! Yes! Hesitated so--
This side the Victory!
Life is but Life! And Death, but Death!
Bliss is, but Bliss, and Breath but Breath!
And if indeed I fail,
At least, to know the worst, is sweet!
Defeat means nothing but Defeat,
No drearier, can befall!
And if I gain! Oh Gun at Sea!
Oh Bells, that in the Steeples be!
At first, repeat it slow!
For Heaven is a different thing,
Conjectured, and waked sudden in--
And might extinguish me!
-- Emily Dickinson
Self-doubt of the day: Am I an even passable teacher? Are these kids learning anything from me that they wouldn't learn from their Ukrainian teachers? For that matter, do they even learn anything at all from me--would they be better off without me?
Friday, February 25, 2005
Don't you know how to spell the name of your own town?
Um....no.
My atlas (which I got after I'd been writing Chernomorskoe for a while) says Chornomors'ke. A friend told me that Google turns up more hits with Chernomoskoye. And I've also seen it spelled Chernomorskoye, and possibly every which-way in between. I really have no idea what's correct, so I'm just going to continue writing Chernomorskoe, since I'm used to it.
I learned something really interesting about Chernomorskoe recently; this was a "closed" town, visitors (especially foreigners) prohibited. I'm not sure how long it's been open--I think around 30 years--but I am the first foreigner ever to live in Chernormorskoe. That's one reason why I had such a hard time opening a bank account. No one had ever opened an account for a foreigner before.
Why was Chernormorskoe closed? Because this was a military town. A naval base, to be precise. Actually, I think it still is--although I don't notice sailors around. But yesterday Chernomorskoe made national news. Apparently they lost a rocket launcher or something. Only they didn't actually lose the rocket launcher; it just disappeared from one building and reappeared at another across town. (Actually, I'm not entirely sure what they lost, except that it was big, not a trivial thing to move.) My friend who explained it all to me thought it was really funny.
Yesterday was a History Day for me: after hearing about the whole rocket launcher escapade, my friend took me to see the ancient Greek ruins that are at one end of Chernormorskoe's beach. Several of her colleagues, who all teach at School Number 1, joined us. The sea was a beautiful, unreal turquoise, like a painting. We joked that we should have brought our swimming suits (it was very cold and windy). As we walked along the beach my friend occasionally picked up an unusual shell and gave it to a friend, saying that it was her "salary"--teachers in Chernomorskoe haven't been paid since December.
The ruins appear to have been a small settlement, or maybe they're just not completely excavated. From what I understand, after the Greeks left the Cossacks came, so the architecture is part Greek and part Cossack. In the summer archeologists come from all over, and they tell tourists about the history of the ruins. Some of the archeologists even speak English--supposedly.
Sometimes I wish Chernomorskoe were a bigger town, or at least had a more developed tourist industry. It's frustrating when my inadequate Russian keeps me from understanding things like this--such interesting topics.