food, food - yum yum

I've been learning how to cook Ukrainian food. I usually try to watch my host-mom in the kitchen as much as I can and she always ends up letting me help her. well, last night: I "skinned", gutted, and chopped the head off of my first Ukrainian fish. I cleaned a 2 foot fish that my host-dad caught that morning) :D Someone told me that you know you've arrived when you start to get treated like a Ukrainian and stop getting treated like an America. After last night, I think I've arrived. (probably not, there's a lot of other things that I'm sure that I need to do to prove myself... but I'm climbing that ladder. fosho.) and, I'm learning how to cook it tonight ;)

ohh. I don't eat the fish here b/c I'm scared of radiation. and my family knows that. they laugh, but my fears are grounded in truth. I think that I will have really "arrived" when I take my first bite of their favorite fish dish. ... what to do, what to do.

Ukraine's California Virus Quarantine

LOL. UKRAINIAN PUBLIC SCHOOLS CLOSED FOR THREE-WEEK CALIFORNIA VIRUS QUARANTINE. What? Haven’t heard of the “California Virus”? In the US, we refer to this so-called “California Virus” as ... no other but H1N1 aka Swine Flu aka Mexico’s plague upon the human population and the delight of young children across the world who have excused school holidays for months on end. Like most things implemented by the government, my host family suggests that this quarantine was a result of mostly political power struggles between the Ukrainian President and Prime Minister especially during the heated months leading to the next Presidential election. Unfortunately, this decision caused an outrageous amount of hysteria amongst the Ukrainian population over a laughably small matter. It’s been officially documented that less than 5 people have died from the Swine Flu in Ukraine since the epidemic came to existence. Political power struggles and a rumored under-the-table governmental decision to cut budget costs by closing governmental facilities during the coldest winter months caused the cost of home remedies like lemons, oranges, garlic, and onions to more than triple in price over night- talk about a stimulus plan for the citrus and herb farmers.

So how does the quarantine affect me and the other volunteers? Basically, we just go on about our daily live as usual EXCEPT: we don’t teach in the school- b/c they’re closed, duh. AND if living with a host family, we wear masks anytime we’re out in public to satisfy our host moms - not because the masks are actually an effective preventive means against contracting the virus. In fact, the way in which the mass public wears these masks actually makes them counter-effective, if you do the research. Finally, we avoid traveling as much as possible. Or it’s recommended to avoid travelling- but my cluster mates are gallivanting around Kiev at this very moment- soooo… so much for that recommendation.

Big City?... Irony

So before I left my apartment on Sunday morning to go the Bazaar, I was a little worried that I would get lost. OBVIOUSLY, I have a minor language barrier. But even more of an issue is coming from a county of less than 5,000 people back in the US and not knowing how to navigate in what seems to me like the city.

Here, my Ukrainian “village” of 35,000 people seems a little like the big city to me. In Boguslav, I live in a high-rise apartment. Apartments are practically unheard of in Bath and the term alone “high-rise” hasn’t even been added to the Bath County dictionary- we’re about a couple centuries, maybe even millennia from that lexical expansion. Here, I may not drive a car, nor do many people even own a car. But I take regular taxi rides. Previously, I might have taken one taxi ride in my entire life – and that’s a benefit-of-the- doubt estimation… honestly, I can’t even remember one time. Now, I’m becoming a taxi-calling/whistling/money-haggling pro despite being close enough to walk everywhere I need to go – an added wonder that I’ve only had the joy to experience while in college. In Bath, there was one pharmacy. Here, per European standard, there’s an “apteka” every few meters on the road. I live an hour and a half’s Marshryptka-ride from one of Eastern Europe’s most mesmerizing cities. And being bombarded by women’s “city fashion” is a source of as much daily awe as it is a cause of my own discomfort and embarrassment about my personal appearance. I’m a hole-in-the-knees jeans and hoodie, rainbow flip-flops, winter UGGS, dress-shoe Danskos or Nine-West flats wearin-kinda-girl. Here, knee-high black boots with 4-inch stiletto heels are the norm for even a Sunday stroll to the bazaar. I’ve never been so keenly aware of my Deep South/ Big Country/ Appalachian Mountain genetic and cultural Roots before in my entire life.

But so NO FEAR, I made it to the Sunday Bazaar b/c even a country girl can survive. … but on the real, the bazaar took up about six streets in the historic district of Boguslav; and from about 6 am to 12 pm, there was a MASS public exodus by foot to the top of the city where, despite the below freezing temperature outside, the market was hot in action. No navigational trouble at all.

Anyway, I just have to laugh at my lack of experience with city life. I’m in a third-world country on the other side of the world and I’m learning as much about how to navigate and survive in the city as I am about how to give aid to an under-served, underprivileged population. Oh, the irony of it all.

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.

The BAR-ZAR (shout out to Cameroni)

Today was Sunday. What does that mean in Ukraine? Well, for me – it means my only day of no school or language classes (but loads of grammar review before a new week of intense language classes where already difficult concepts continue to build on each other. Right now, I think that I would compare my knowledge of Russian to something like the Leaning Tower of Pisa- pretty unstable and missing a few important structural components but standing and rather useful … for a tourist) Anyway, for the average Ukrainian- Sunday, roughly translated, means BAZAAR! Although I’ve been here for a little over a month, today was the first Sunday that I had a chance to venture over to my city’s Bazaar. From my friends’ accounts, I was expecting something like the downtown Farmer’s Market at home, which I’m sure you’re also picturing when I say “BAZAAR”. But folks, this ain’t Virginia. After my Sunday experience, “Bazaar” now conjures a crossbred image between a circus and an auction. I was utterly awe-stuck. I mean, there are only a few things in Ukraine that make me consider it “exotic”. Because really- despite the hype of being on the opposite side of the world and dealing with the inconveniences of living in a third world country, I’m not trekking through the jungles of Thailand or gathering water in clay pots from a polluted river a few kilometers outside of a hut village in Sub-Saharan Africa. Depending on what I’m comparing my service to, my life teeters pretty close to normal. However, the Bazaar is one of the few things that keep my life from being entirely at par. I don’t have time to go into all the details, but my favorite visual: there are literally bath-tub vats of with freshly caught fish of all sizes still flopping around in them. These fish are bought up by anxious customers and then proceed to be beheaded and nicely bagged right before the payer’s eyes. It’s marvelous. Cages of live chickens are similarly prepared and bagged. Then, you have the goats… and still, there’s also the massive amounts of “pre-prepared” meat vendors where mounds of chicken livers, breasts, legs, and wings, lay open to the elements and in clear site of inquiring customers where they can finger the meat unwrapped meat until they find something that meets their liking. It’s a pushing and shoving, shouting and hollering match between customers and customer and vendor to get the best selection.
Next Sunday, I’m considering taking a bag of popcorn and sitting on the church steps to dine and watch the Sunday morning spectacle. Really, I’ve never encountered anything quite so entertaining in this particular way- very intriguing.

What I learned from the PCMO on Personal Health Day:

Yesterday was Personal Health Day. On this day, a Peace Corps Medical Officer comes to my town and gives me shots and is supposed to equip me and my cluster with helpful information and meds to prevent us from getting the Swine Flu during the current outrageously manic outbreak of the virus here in UA. Well, our dear PCMO gave us our shots and gave us about 5 and 1/2 hours of lecturing medical advice and "how-to" tips.. for example, how to: give first aid to a person who while clipping their cat's nails, unfortunately let things get a little out of hand and let fiesty cat rip eyelid in half and scratch through to the eyeball. Yes, folks- these are our medical concerns in the UA - it really happened. (not very helpful scenariou for me because I hate cats and as long as I can choose, I will not be anywhere near a cat in UA or ever)

ANYWAY, after 5 1/2 hours of lectures and "what if" scenarious... Our PCMO shared with me the most helpful medical advice I've received since I've been in country:


Stay Fit.
Don't get bit.
Don't get hit.
Don't get lit.
Don't do it.
Don't eat shi--

-PCMO Sasha


(applicable to all Americans traveling abroad)