Disclaimer!

DISCLAIMER: it’s dangerous for any PCV to consider Ukraine as “normal”. And by “normal”, (b/c really “normal” is too subjective a term to throw around w/o defining) I simply mean judging Ukraine on American standards. It’s just not fair, doesn’t work, and isn’t meant to work. Newsflash: (as if you couldn’t tell from the lack of peanutbutter and oreos), Dorothy’s not in Kansas.

But at first glance, Ukraine sort of looks, smells, and sounds a bit… familiar? At least, you wouldn’t classify it as “exotic” right off the bat. But ok, the first time you get on a train and deeply inhale only to quickly choke on thick cigarette smoke and the all too intoxicating stench of strong alcohol or smell that putrid Turkish toilet or watch your host-dad suck the eyeballs out of his fish before he bites off the head and swallows it whole and then chows down on the rest of the raw fish body or befriending and naming the family bunny only to realize that you’re eating it for dinner Tuesday night… my first response isn’t like what it might be if I was sent to live with the natives in S. America: “Wow, this is awesome! I’m really living through this ultra-romanticized exotic experience!” AWW HECK NOOO. In Ukraine, your expectations are a little deceptively conceived. Ukraine really does seem to give a first impression of looking a lot like the States. SO Sort of unfortunately, PCVs in Ukraine have a false sense of perspective and that putrid funk is not romantical in the tiniest bit and rather than satisfying your hunger, tears come to your eyes knowing that little “Timka” is now in the pit of your stomach threatening to come right back up with too intense thoughts of your previous friendly relationship.

SO Really, you just want someone to invent some Clorox and Febreeze up in this country and for someone to please tell me WHEREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE is the bless-ed alcohol based waterless hand-sanitizer!?! (like for real, they don’t have any in Ukraine and no doubt I’ve looked. I’ve gone to 54/56 of the aptekas in my city… and no. none.) BUT really, I'm so so so lucky that things like finding clorox, febreeze, and hand-sanitizer are among my biggest headaches. I mean c'mon. I'm being totally ridiculous.

SO, it’s best if instead of picturing Ukraine as a bro in-the-making of my beloved States, I keep thinking that I’m in this super exotic country. That way, when I come across these jolting shocks to my over-protected and under-exposed American senses, I might look at these experiences in the perspective of: Oh, how romantic- look at me eating mystery meat-jello. This is so awesome!
(lol… honestly!? Even in theory, would eating mystery meat-jello ever be ok with me?) My theory is YES, as long as I have the right perspective on the situation and that perspective can’t be … this place is just like America. Because it makes even the smallest of inconveniences seem too frustrating or even the smallest of cultural differences too disturbing. Friends, I’m living in Ukraine. UA, although only one letter short of USA, is FAR FAR FAR FAR FAR FAR FAR from being the USA. And I’m okay with that. I actually prefer it and I think it’s great and I love it.