I was Home for Christmas

I think I’ve uttered the aforementioned phrase literally a hundred times in the almost four months I’ve been back.  Whether at a job interview, a family gathering, or an impromptu chat with a grocery store cashier (yeah, I still do that) it’s unintentionally become my go-to when I have 30 seconds to sum up the past few years of my life.  My life jacket for small-talk situations to prevent me from blabbering on.  It may not be the most creative or eloquent & at this point it feels like kind of a cop-out, but honestly, I stick with it because it’s the truth.  I can’t think of a more succinct way to encompass the slew of of sentiments the long-awaited transition has brought about.  I realize this final entry is a little delayed, but while entirely unplanned (I just love me some fast-paced, friend-filled America & have developed a slight aversion to sitting alone with my thoughts) it is pretty convenient, as I think I’m almost to the point where I can meet someone new & not mention Ukraine.  In fact, I really probably shouldn’t or else I’ll start sounding like that girl spouting on about “This one time, in the Peace Corps…”. So now as I careen into my new life & closer to the days & weeks when I won’t need to say it at all, let’s take a minute & break this sum-up of a sentence down.

Christmas dinner at Kyoto, nice like a family

Incredible?  Really Alei? As overkill as it sounds, I like that as a descriptor not for its hyperbole, but because I think it emphasizes the fact that prior to Peace Corps I didn’t & couldn’t understand what my service would be like.  It really, truly was unbelievable.  The two years & two months pushed me to limits of frustration & homesickness that I couldn’t possibly have fathomed from Cary or even Champaign, Illinois.  That going to buy bananas would require a fully formulated speech beforehand as well as time specifically devoted to psyching myself up to be stared & often yelled at (for misdemeanors like refusing to eat meat or wear socks obvi).  That saying “Happy Easter” to my family couldn’t happen without a very orchestrated adaptation to our daily routines as well as a hint of good favor from my fickle internet connection.  The simple was made difficult in ways I could have never anticipated.  But at the same time, how could I have ever known by reading the information packet some 700 days ago the effect Ukraine would have on me?  That to this day my heart would melt from the mere remembrance of my little babies trying their hands (& flailing arms & legs) at yoga as an excuse to hang out with me?  That I’d rank an evening spent sitting in my pajamas singing Russian karaoke with my host family as one of my lifetime’s chart-topping favorite moments?  That I’d make connections with people whose voices I still (& hopefully will forever) hear both on the phone every week & in my head every day?  The things I felt, the things I got to see, to experience, the relationships forged anew & kept strong against all odds; in a word, incredible.

My new roommates. And yes, that's (unnecessary) outside apparel for the dead of winter. I love Texas.

Also incredible is the opportunity I have to reflect back a few months removed not just on the experience’s impact on me, but on God’s grace & palpable presence throughout.  I started most mornings reading a few chapters from the Bible & annotating in the margins.

Ookie & Bronsie

 My notes were scrawled from many a bizarre location ranging from my host family’s sparkly living room, to bundled in blankets in a chair in my icebox of an apartment, to the steps of Piazza Michelangelo overlooking Florence & even sprawled out on a towel (clothed!) at the nudie beach in Crimea.  My handwriting is at times almost indecipherable often on account of attempting to write on the various forms of transportation rambling at breakneck speeds over dirt roads & Soviet-era railroad tracks, & other times from the watermarks created by tears & maybe even a little homemade vodka.  I took it everywhere & commented on anything that struck me at the moment, & now thumbing back through the silky pages the only word that describes the timing & relevance of His words in the thick of each intense emotion is, you guessed it, incredible.  I read through in a sequence without jumping around at all, & as such I simply can’t call a coincidence the way the chapters in the book reflect the chapters of my life in each & every small moment.  That the story of the Tower of Babel happened on day 5 in Ukraine when I could attest better than ever the confusion caused by lack of a common language.  That I read of Job being “drowned in his affliction” & overcoming in the airport as I was on my way back from Christmas & feeling like I was sinking in a sadness of my own.  That I started the book of Romans on the day I met Mom & embarked on our journey to Rome.  That I was reminded that the Red Sea didn’t part until Moses actually stepped foot in the waters, just as I was preparing to move into the uncharted waters of a town called Yampil. Almost every page is rife with perfectly timed messages that I would have easily glossed over had it been any other day.  Honestly, it would be weird if it weren’t so wonderful.

They're fancy, huh?

Which brings us to the glad part.  Try as it might, nothing could break my joy on the tumultuous trip home. If you fought your way through the last post back in November you 1.  are a trooper & 2. can personally vouch for how sleep deprived I was.

Hims my gay boyfriend, Dexter.

At that point I’d been running on single-digit hours of sleep over the course of three days & was simultaneously exhausted by the sad goodbyes & exhilarated by the happy hellos waiting for me at O’Hare.  I wanted nothing more than to pop the half of a heavy duty sleeping pill that my friends scrounged up for me the second I sat down on the airplane & pass the heck out.  No such luck.  Mere moments into the boarding process I was asked to swap my window seat with a crying baby & her mom.  Then after tearing maniacally through my carry-on bag I came to the devastating realization that the meds (which I was referring to as ‘horse tranquilizers’ by that point & finding hilarious every time) were nowhere to be found.  So instead, while already eons beyond slap happy, I resolved to watching hours of ‘It’s Always Sunny in Philadephia’ which is hysterical on a bad day.  Suffice it to say, I’m pretty sure my fellow passengers were (rightfully) afraid that the zombie-esque girl in the back was having a seizure thanks to my frequent convulsions of silent laughter.  For eight hours.  After proving one last time though that I will never be a truly seasoned traveler, I made it through security & into the loving arms of my mom & dad, & it’s been on the up & up since then.

Peace Corps is careful to caution us that the readjustment to home process is often the most difficult part of service for volunteers.  Apparently I am incredibly shallow, because I have yet to find America anything less than amazing.

Beautiful Christmas sweater party.

Honestly, I think the biggest blip I hit was the dastardly discovery that my pants no longer fit, & while I handled that challenge like a particularly petulant five year old, America also just so happens to have amazing technology called the elliptical machine as well as sugar-free everything so me & my jeans are just fine again.  Trying to find a job was an irritating-at-times process mostly because it made me feel like a bum being unemployed & more often than not sporting sweatpants while everyone else was out accomplishing things, but thankfully I’ve been gainfully employed for the past 2 months & fully appreciative of health insurance & a paycheck that covers slightly more than cabbage & chocolate.  Really though, it’s my people.  It’s knowing that despite living in Austin (& loving it, btw ) I can be home in a matter of three hours if the need be.  It’s getting to spend Spring Break with my parents in Las Vegas.  It’s being able to call & check in on my stupid, little brothers (jk, kind of) on a whim because going to Taco Bell reminds me of them.  It’s spending literally the whole day laying in the living room with my roommates burning CDs & laughing about things that only we find funny.  It’s doing, well, anything with the world’s most perfect dog, Dexter, who I now share a roof & often a bed with.

Hims can't get on the bed without a formal invitation.

I’m not going to take more of your time going into the details of the life that I’ve had the joy of crafting & getting used to these past few months (that’s what the pictures are for), but I will say that I love it.  I still am known to fall prey to whining about the daily first-world irritations of bad drivers & long lines at Starbuck’s.  I’m slightly alarmed at how easy it is for me to drop $40 on a new pair of sunglasses & definitely still have some things to work on, but I go to bed each night with a sense of peace & a new awareness of how blessed I am to be here with all of you.

And so, here we are at the end.  I feel like I should have some profound insights or at least a solid, inspirational quote worthy of a college application essay, but I don’t.

Welcome to my life. Great friends & popcorn galore.

I cannot believe that I am going to be home today.  Not in the normal, excited expression’s context (although excitement is certainly a dominant feeling in the jumbled mix).  More along the lines of ‘my brain is not able to comprehend the fact that my worlds have permanently & irreversibly switched again’.  Or ‘I’m just on another lovely vacation & will be returning refreshed, spoiled, & fattened on frozen yogurt (as always) in a few weeks’.  Or ‘There must be some mistake.  Certainly I can’t be expected to do that ‘living’ thing without having my close Peace Corps friends to vent to every single day’.  Does not compute.  As a measure of how poorly my brain is handling the task, here’s a fun fact about my failure to understand what’s happening around me- I have yet to cry.  At this point I’ve doled out & received heartfelt letters, heard incredibly moving toasts made in my honor, had a tea party of crying children bidding me farewell & have said goodbye to people I love dearly without having the slightest clue of when I’ll see them again, & yet nary a single tear has rolled down my cheek.  I think I might have become a robot.

I’m guessing this readjustment business is a gradual thing & as cathartic as a sobfest can be I am certainly not about to provoke any sadness just to spite that darn stable façade,  so instead I’ll share a little bit about how incredible my last few days in the country were.

I usually teach (or I guess I should say ‘taught’ now.  What?!) each of my groups two consecutive lessons every week, so for my last week we did normal curriculum material for the first half of class, & then the second half was devoted to a writing letters about themselves the first day & then making videos the second.  Probably the most self-indulgent lessons I’ve ever planned, but the results are completely heart melting.  Between their embarrassingly sweet words & adorable English mistakes I know I’m going to cherish the binder that I eventually store their letters & videos in for years to come.  Ukrainians do a bang up job of expressing appreciation when (& often only when) someone is about to leave, & the kids & teachers at my school proved that to me 100% last week.  There were moving moments & creative encouragement left & right that  all wrapped up with a party with the faculty in between classes on Friday & then a surprise tea party put on by Olha & my 7^th & 11^th grade students after school.  Then another tea & hair braiding soiree at my knitting club, & even an outdoor tea picnic with Olha & Valya’s families on my last day in town.  It was a warm, fuzzy weekend & I was really spoiled rotten by them with their kindness.  Packing, well, sucked as always, but I did do it far in advance this time instead of the night before which was my brilliant plan two years ago.  See, PC changes you.  I cleaned my apartment until it was bleak & empty, had one last tea with my counterpart, & then was driven to the train station for my overnight to Kiev by Olha & her husband, Vitya.  Thank goodness they were kind enough to drive me, because if they hadn’t I honestly think I would still be trying to carry my irritatingly over-stuffed luggage across the tracks.

I managed to lug the bags to the Peace Corps office early the next morning alone (even though the experience convinced me that I maybe should not have kids if I can’t handle even 30 minutes of intense pain without cursing everyone & everything directly related to my baggage &/or accidentally in my path), & then headed to Morozivka for a day & a half with my host family.  That too was amazing as they continue to be nothing but wonderful.  My host Mom hurt her foot, which is obviously unfortunate, but worked out nicely in our case because it meant she didn’t have to go to work, so we were able to have a whole day’s worth of quality bonding time.  We didn’t do anything particularly noteworthy, but it was just perfect to sit around with them talking like normal since we knew our version of normal’s days were quite limited.  I gave them the Shutterfly photo album that I made them for a goodbye gift, & while they admitted that I had a mistake or two in the commentary, they really seemed to love it & cried their way though each page.  The morning goodbye was definitely a little rough, but luckily I had Thomas on the same electrychka to Kiev to keep me company & distract me with his always-exciting adventures.

That was Tuesday morning & it started a solid two days of soaking up hysterical moments with my Peace Corps friends, & finishing everything up in the office.  I think at least 40 people were all leaving on the same day, so the office was packed with excited people all trying to grasp what was happening to us.  It also was a lovely excuse to be ridiculous together & laugh until the wee hours of the morning over inane but hilarious topics per usual.  Mom treated us all to a luxe lunch at a restaurant that we’d been drooling over for two years, & then we finished up the rest of our office paperwork, had a lovely, laid-back dinner with our old & new friends, managed to make the hours until 3am fly by at a local bar & then headed to the airport where all heck broke loose.

My amazing friends sacrificed their slumber & came to the airport with me even though I was the first one to leave (out of our whole group…holler) & together we had a chaotic, frustrating, & perfectly slap happy last few hours.  To end my stay in the country on a culturally fitting foot, the workers at Boryspil decided to remind me of just how much they like to watch hoop jumping by charging me $350 (while sneering sarcastically, of course) for the one bag that I was so proud of managing to fit all of my stuff into (Peace Corps allows us two) which resulted in a mad dash of us trying to find a solution.  At one point Kacey was emptying out her dirty clothes bag to give me another “piece of luggage”, Katelin was offering up her credit card (since the bank of COURSE couldn’t take the American dollars that PC gave us specifically for the occasion, but also couldn’t exchange my hyrivnias since the printer was broken), & Julia was guarding our other bags while I spastically dug through my suitcase on an animated but completely unhelpful verbal tirade against stupid unmarked rules & the glory of customer service.  We may have created a scene, but when I sat on the plane rehashing the event in my non-sleeping brain I couldn’t help but thing of it as a quirky analogy to my cross-cultural experience in general: often confusing & occasionally irritating events made manageable & memorable by my fantastic friends.  We did eventually get it all worked out (I bought a stupid plastic babusia bag to put 15 Kg’s worth of stuff in for a much more manageable $85) & then they went with me as far as they could to the security gate where we irritated everyone around us with a dramatic 2 minute hugging session & then made me laugh my head of despite the security guards barking orders at me to take my shoes off.  Even when I couldn’t see them anymore I could still hear the cries of “Momma (my arbitrary nickname) don’t go!!!” resounding down the corridors of Customs.  It was an absolutely perfect send off.

And now here I sit whipping my head around every two minutes because I’m sure I hear one of their voices.  The entire week, & especially the past few days, was another beautiful illustration of just how lucky I got with the people who shared my PC experience.  I can’t accurately put it into words, but I just felt so completely loved & accepted by them, & was in constant awe of how everything worked out.  My friendships with Ukrainians & Americans alike completely exceeded my expectations & made my entire service worthwhile, & although the goodbyes don’t yet feel real I’m pretty confident that that is going to be the hardest part of readjustment.  Luckily we have access to & plans for regular communication & I have all of you at home to do some serious catching up with.  So basically, despite coming off kind of whiny, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I had the perfect end to an amazing adventure, filled with love & laugher from some of the world’s finest people.  Who could ask for more?  I think I’ll write a wrap-up post of Peace Corps overall in the near future because I can’t quite stomach yet another ending right now, so for the time being let’s just say that I feel extravagantly & unwarrantedly blessed beyond belief & am just about ready for some happy hellos in AMERICA

Update: I’m home!  It’s amazing.  Everything I’d hoped & more.  Still can’t really grasp it all, but am really looking forward to trying!

Before I get there though I have to keep plowing through way more lasts than I would like.   Already I’ve checked off my last time washing laundry by hand, visiting Vinnitsia, & riding a bus in Ukraine.  While the last of the laundry had me as victorious & convicted as Scarlett O’Hara (With God as my witness I shall never wash laundry by hand in a bathtub again!), the thought of my last bus ride made me tear up on the walk home yesterday.  I’ve spent countless hours & realistically days on busses & then just like that they’re done.  As much as I’ve whined about some of the daily inconveniences, they’ve become a part of my life & it’s strange to think that they’ll be completely replaced soon.  And if the crappy transport evokes emotions I’m pretty sure my last lessons this week & the first of the farewells will really do a number on my mascara.  I’ve been getting myself ready for the goodbyes by putting together gifts & cards, & have been stricken & surprised to find how similar this sadness feels compared to missing America.  I knew it would be a little sentimental, but was not expecting the same intense & nauseous feelings that I now expertly associate with homesickness.  But such is life, &especially life in Peace Corps, with the resounding lesson as always being that I’m enormously blessed both here & there.  So here we go

In the meantime I’ve been enjoying stuffing my last month full of wonderful moments.  I’ve been very deliberate about my attempts to document all of the activities & have two main qualms with the resulting photos (seen here).  One is the rogue strand of hair that seems insistent on breaking free from the pack & lying awkwardly & isolated across my forehead in almost every picture.  Definitely not the look I’m going for.  The other is the goofy grin plastered on my face in most shots.  While I’m pretty sure that hating on my huge smile is a valid complaint as the end result has me looking borderline deranged, I am grateful that while not attractive it is authentic & has been provoked so often by my amazing friends.  I guess smiling too big is highly preferable to not at all.  I’m hesitant to dwell too much on the rehashing of events as I have a job to find & an apartment to pack up, but here’s a brief summary of my past few weeks as I certainly don’t want to forget them.

The fun started with a visit from Ashley for a little tour of Yampil & some help at our Halloween party.  It was lovely to have someone to cook & craft with after school, & between the two of us we were able to treat my kids to a festive fete with games & candy aplenty.  They were all really cute, excited, & again all too willing to partake in the silliness.  I think my favorite moment might have been when my explanation of the spooky relay race (with mummies, witches, bats, & so on) backfired & instead of going one team member at a time all twenty of them bolted simultaneously resulting in a mob of twenty giddy ghouls.

They didn’t want to leave despite having gone way over the intended time, but we had to break up the bash in order to catch our bus & train to Ashley’s town for the second annual Spalloween celebration with her sitemate Becky.  I got to see the adorable Ukrainian woman (Totya Anya)that Ashley lives with one last time which is always a pleasure, & then spent the remainder of the weekend chatting, flipping through fashion mags, cooking & eating delicious homemade deep dish pizza & decadent peanut butter bars courtesy of Becky’s thoughtful parents, & singing along to an epic 90’s playlist.

After a few relaxing days I hopped an early morning (&cold!)electrychka to Kiev to visit my host fam for a few days.  They were as adorable & gracious as ever, & we spent a lot of time marveling at how fast the two years have gone & reminiscing on some of our favorite memories while watching CSI Miami which seems to have replaced “Everyone Dance!” as their favorite form of nightly entertainment.  Snijanna was also on Fall Break so I spent a lot of time with her & her little cousin visiting for the week from out East.  The three of us hung out at home & went to Snijanna’s dance club where I was asked to translate rap songs for her teenage friends.  You’re welcome, America.  We also accompanied her to a high school soccer game & while the game was less than riveting, it was fun to see how similar teenage girls are all over the world as I watched her goofing around & gossiping with her friends.

The last day we went to see the factory where my host mom works which I was very thankful for as I’ve gone the past two years without really knowing what she does.  What I was sure of was how hard she works, taking the electrychka every Monday through Saturday morning at 4:30, getting home at 5pm & then spending her evening hours cooking & working on the garden/farm.  It turns out her in-between time is just as strenuous as she works at what looks like a cement factory.  She was really cute & proud to parade us around like it was Take Your Daughter to Work Day, & relatively speaking it is considered a well-paid & stable job, but seeing firsthand how hard she works & how little by our standards she gets for it ($500/month) was pretty brutal.  That being said, she never complains & is genuinely thankful that she has work to go to as it’s definitely not a given for many, & they manage to make the meager salary meet all of their needs comfortably.  Pretty impressive stuff.

Later that evening Ashley & I set out on another adventure, this time to Kharkiv for a Halloween party with other volunteers.  We’d never been East of Kiev & had heard reports of all things grim, gray, & industrial.  While aesthetically the city pretty much fit the bill, in all other aspects our expectations were exceeded by far.  We spent Friday wandering around through many cute little neighborhoods smitten with Kharkiv’s charm & charming inhabitants.  The West usually gets hyped up for its friendliness, but really everyone we dealt with was nothing but helpful & we had a wonderful day walking around.

The next day everyone else got in & we spent the morning putting the finishing touches on our costumes: completely hand-crocheted & patriotic basketball uniforms made by Katelin.  The idea was sparked by the basketball tournament that was supposed to be held in conjunction with the party in which we, the Dream Team, would make up for what we lacked in competitive drive or athletic ability with sweet outfits & ridiculous plays.  Unfortunately we found out the day of that no one had managed to find a court ahead of time so the contest was cancelled, but the costumes were put to good use nonetheless.  Before the party we got our sport quota filled with a trip to the nearby stadium for a professional soccer game.  I forgot just how fun live sporting events are & was surprised by how much I loved being there & seeing the fans’ excitement.  It was a really cool thing to experience & a part of their culture that I hadn’t yet seen.  Afterwards we escaped the cold & spent the remainder of the night dancing like idiots as always & hanging out with other volunteers at the Halloween party.

After spending another day roaming the city until our overnight trains I got into Kiev early Monday morning for my exit interview, which was the last of the Peace Corps appointments I had scheduled necessary for pre-departure.  Another example of the blessed little I have standing in between me & America at this point.  The talk with our country director went well & was basically just a summary of what I’ve accomplished here & so on.  Then it was back on a train for Yampil & a week of teaching & packing.  I was treated to a nice dinner & gift exchange at Valya’s house with Olha & both of their families on Friday night & then bussed one last time into Vinnitsia for a final outing with volunteers in my oblast (like a state).  We rented an apartment & enjoyed delicious Georgian food, more ridiculous dancing, & of course, one more trip through the McDonald’s drive-thru on foot.  I’m slightly embarrassed to say that between Vinnitsia & travels through Europe with Ashley I’ve walked through more drive-thrus than I care to count, but in my humble opinion the hilarity of it all never does diminish.  That’s a last that I think might be for the best.  At the very least we all solemnly promised that if we’re to stroll through a drive-thru window at home it had better be a Taco Bell.

Now it’s just one last week of teaching my little darlings & sharing sappy wishes.  I’ve already been given a fuzzy stuffed animal, an otherwise beautiful scarf with what I think are little pelts of rabbit fur on the end, & a bunch of cards including one with stick figures whose speech bubbles proclaim “I grieve!”.  Here’s hoping for a very worthwhile week

In the meantime, I’ve been enjoying yet another unforgettable week in Yampil.  School was good, but not extremely newsworthy.  The kids are as cute as ever, but I’ll try to avoid gushing about them to fill your time with a new cultural phenomenon I got to experience on Saturday: a Ukrainian wedding.

I love weddings.  The detail, the themes, the color coordination.  The sap, the sentimental toasts, the display of relatives & friends breaking it down on the dance floor.  Really even the stupid bridal movies and TV shows are completely my cup of tea, so I was thrilled to have the chance to see such an important Ukrainian event firsthand.  The newlyweds were two young teachers from my school, Yura (P.E.) & Ira (English) who met last year & are extremely cute together.  The Ukrainian wedding really stretches out over a weekend, but most guests (including us) just attend the reception portion.  I guess the bridal party spends the earlier parts of Saturday riding around in a pimped out car (& by that I mean much more 7–year-old-with-glitter-crepe-paper-and-a-glue-gun than anything Vin Diesel would be involved in) & stopping at the Town Hall to sign the official marriage license, & then to all sorts of local landmarks & monuments for extensive photo sessions.  Then they make their way to a café which is where we all came in.

We showed up around 5pm & were led inside the restaurant then ushered into a line where we waited to meet the beautiful new couple and give them our best wishes and bouquets of flowers.  There were about a hundred people in attendance so this was no speedy process, but we mingled with the other teachers and took in all the sights.  And sights there were aplenty.  The groom wore a pretty standard tux & the bride looked like a princess in a lacy mermaid dress.  From what I’ve seen here in store windows many gowns take “over-the-top” to a whole new level & can include mesh, rhinestones, feathers, pleather & hoopskirts (all on the same dress, mind you) so I was prepared to lie through my teeth, but Ira honestly looked completely elegant and understated.

The room was equally all dolled up with balloons hanging from the ceiling & a horseshoe arrangement of long wooden tables that reminded me of a medieval feast setting.  The connecter part of the horseshoe was the head table where the newlyweds sat with their bridal party that pretty much just included a Best Man & Maid of Honor equivalent (who didn’t have to wear coordinated outfits but did sport red sashes) & a few of their friends.  By 6:00 we were all seated & ready to start the fun.  The evening kicked off with an announcement by a lady who served as the evening’s emcee.  I’m not sure if she was a family friend or an employee of the café, but she narrated the entire event & was in charge of the microphone, directing who would make speeches when.  She also led us in a spectacle or two which I will certainly detail soon.  The other key attendees were the members of the Ukrainian folk band who played traditional music in (somewhat) traditional ensembles- Ukrainian embroidery pattern plus sequins.  Intrigue indeed.

As for the main events, I want to start out by saying that between the very loud enthusiastic music & my desire not to interrupt the cultural moments as they happened I don’t know exactly why everything happened.  I do know that it was a lot of fun though & everyone seemed to enjoy the customs whether they understood them or not.  The evening pretty much revolved around snacking on the elaborate & constantly replenished spread of food covering every square inch of the table, fake-sipping on shots of cognac (I think I’ve perfected this art & managed to make two little shot glasses worth last over at least 20 toasts), & doing whatever the Master of Ceremonies told us to.  It was kind of reminiscent of a dinner theater remittent with audience interaction.  But in Ukrainian.

Her first order of business was to appoint the Party Police.  I’m not sure how these people were chosen, but they were called up to the center of the floor, pinned with traditional embroidered table runners, & then made to dance around to a festive little jig.  I know I’ve mentioned this at length before, but oh my goodness the dancing.  The older generations favor a…mode of expression?…far different from the typical teenage disco fare, but I came to the realization that night that both styles can be characterized by the same fundamental root: years & years of white people struggling to find the rhythm.  I don’t say this with judgment as I am both very white & very appreciative of any dance style that does not accentuate my general lankiness and lack of coordination.  And let me just tell you, I lucked out.  Everyone is free to dance because no one looks good doing it.  It’s weirdly liberating actually.  You don’t have to worry about looking goofy because you already know that without a doubt you do, but so does everybody else.  So what point is there in sitting down? You mostly just stand in a circle & shuffle your feet in two inch increments basically dancing your way around an endless rotation on the dancefloor.  Some people’s footwork is a little fancier than others & the really bold ones get their hands involved, but for the most part you just circle round & round watching the laughing faces across from you like luggage on a carousel.  Then if a particularly catchy song comes on everyone joins hands & starts an accelerated version complete with high pitched “ay-yi-yi”ing noises & other savage but celebratory non-speech exclamations.  Just think Borat.  It’s honestly a blast & usually goes on for hours.  I’m pretty sure it counts as an aerobic exercise which is always welcome in my book since it usually accompanies force feeding.

Which I guess brings me back to the Party Police.  So they are all stationed at different strategic locations around the room & sporadically patrol the aisles commanding people to drink.  Illustrating yet another cultural commonality that drove me crazy two years ago & now barely phases me.  Folks like to boss.  I’ve realized that our culture is very hyper-aware of not making anyone uncomfortable or offending while here they pretty much just tell you what they want.  They tell you to eat more because food is love.  They tell you to move to a different chair because it will be more fun for you.  At home any resistance would probably be respected & chalked up to shyness.  Here, you’re just not hearing them right & the only acceptable answer is to do what they say or the shouting will continue.  But it honestly all comes from same place.  Whether respecting the fact that dancing in the middle of everyone might make you uncomfortable or dragging you by the arm onto the dance floor, both are motivated by the same desire to see you happy.  The Party Police are a prime example of this.  Could being shouted at to drink more every ten minutes be called overbearing?  Probably.  Did we all end up having more fun because of it?  Absolutely.

I’m to the point now where I realize I’m full-on babbling , so I’ll try to use some bullet points to keep me on track in describing the rest of the traditions.

• The parents toast the new couple & then take their two separate candles & light the new couple’s one candle symbolizing the joining of families.
• Everyone else toasts the couple.  Yes, including me.  I am pretty sure that prior to this no one has been understanding a word of my Ukrainian because they were all so blown away that I was able to string two sentences together into a microphone.
• After most toasts everyone yells “Horka” which means “bitter” & has the same effect as clinking a glass in America, making the couple kiss.  No one I asked knew why they say bitter, but think it has something to do with wishing that this wonderful day is as bitter as their marriage gets.
• The couple has a first dance inside a circle of rose petals & tea lights.  Interestingly enough the chosen song was “Once Upon a December” from the cartoon about the Russian princess Anastasia.  In English.
• The Best Man has to drink a shot out of the bride’s shoe.
• The Best Man & Maid of Honor have a semi-choreographed dance-off.
• The Best Man & Maid of Honor walk around with pairs of satin baby pants, one pink & one blue, & people put money into the one that corresponds with what they hope their first kid will be.  The boy won.
• There’s an auction for a bottle of champagne that the winner is supposed to drink one year after the wedding.
• Everyone writes wishes or advice for the couple on little paper hearts that are collected on a silver platter.
• The bride & groom are presented with a set of bedding from their parents.
• The bride sits on the groom’s lap & covers her eyes while the Maid of Honor taps a spoon on a plate that’s hovering over her head & tries to block the Best Man whose goal is to slip a piece of lace over her head.

And finally, the bouquet catch equivalent.  A by-product of the pushiness here is that once 11:00 rolled around people just started disappearing.  They couldn’t announce their departure because then they’d get bullied back into sitting down, so they really would just seem to vanish.  We were on our third attempt to make a break for it when my counterpart Oksana asked me if I wanted to dance with a hat on my head.  Really, that was the question in its entirety.  I mean…do you?  I was pretty much danced out & try to keep my accessorized dancing to Cinco de Mayo, so I politely declined & committed to ignoring the grasping hands & pleas to stay in favor of moving it to the exit with Olha & Oksana, my colleagues & neighbors that I was going home with.

Once out the door Olha explained that the hat thing alluded to was a unique cultural tradition that I really should take a picture of.  One month left.  OK, fine.  We headed back in & before I knew it Olha had taken off my coat & guided me into the center of the circle.  Well shoot.  The numbers had dwindled but there was still a group of about 50 plus the cameraman watching the confused American be led onto a gigantic pillow in the middle of the room where in a matter of moments Ira’s veil was placed on my head & then the Best Man grabbed my hands & proceeded to twirl me around the floor before I could even work up an objection.  Struggling to make sense of it all fell on the backburner as I was mostly focused on trying not to trip or drop the veil that was sliding precariously down my face due to our speedy little waltz.  After a few moments he pushed my back really hard propelling me towards the floor, but I fought it while laughing my head off, emerged looking completely disheveled to cheers of joy, was given my coat, & then sent on my merry way.  On the walk to our ride home I came to figure out that the whole shenanigan was a traditional effort to get my ancient 24-year-old butt wed & everyone’s applause & excitement made a lot more sense.  The back thing was because apparently the girl is supposed to bow at the end but I was clueless & just fighting for balance. 

And that was my first & only Ukrainian wedding experience.  I guess they also had a small ceremony at church on Sunday & a family dinner afterwards, but only the close bridal party went to those parts.  I have more pictures on Facebook here, but overall it was a really sweet & special night, made memorable by all of my colleagues & friends from town who seemed so happy to have me there & went out of their way to make me feel welcome.

Just one more week of school before our Fall Break   I’m pretty stoked about that mostly because it is freezing in school & I lose all motivation for things that don’t include being wrapped up in a blanket.  I actually found myself being  thankful for my baby-thin hair for the first time ever today because if God didn’t make my unwashed hair so prone to grease then I legitimately would probably never shower.  Mysterious ways, that One.  I’m throwing another Halloween party on Friday with the kiddos then making a break for my last travel spree with stops in Derajhnia for Spalloween part deux, Morozivka for a stay with the host fam, & then out East for a Halloween party with volunteers from all over the country.  Happy October to one & all, & see you in a month!

Handwriting twins

I’m trying to enjoy the emotional rollercoaster with both hands in the air by just appreciating the heck out of my students while I still can.  They make it pretty easy, too.  For instance my adorable 7th graders who should be way too cool for school at this point spent an entire lesson last week talking into a flashlight  as if it were a microphone just to appease their crazy English teacher.  The funniest part about it is that my original intent was for them to shine the light on who they wanted to answer the homework question & then pass it on, but understanding complicated directions isn’t something they’re used to & they were just so eager to please that I ended up stifling a laugh & going with it.  Now that I type that out I guess the flashlight seems like a bizarre prop in either activity, but my point is that they will happily play along with almost anything I throw out & I love them for it.  Those of you used to deciphering my weird handwriting may also understand how proud (& a tad vain) I felt when after complimenting one of my tenth graders on her very uncharacteristic writing style (they almost exclusively rock cursive around here) she blushed & said that she had been practicing copying mine.  I think I’ve found my legacy.

The teachers have been pretty great too.  At the beginning of the month I celebrated my last Teacher’s Day with an invite to a party in the woods one day after school.  As yet another illustration of how planning works here we heard about the get together at approximately 12 & were expected to board the little schoolbus  at 2.  Thank goodness we did though, because it brought us to an old Soviet campground where we were treated to an outdoor picnic & reveling  well into the night.  One of the hardest parts of life here for me has been feeling out of place so often (which, duh Alei, seems like a pretty obvious side effect of living abroad), so words can hardly express how nice it was to feel included by my colleagues that evening.  I was sandwiched between teachers who had their arms maternally around my waist most of the night & was singled out in a toast proclaiming me ‘the best volunteer they’ve had’ and a ‘true Ukrainian girl’.  I was also able to share the love via my own toast in Ukrainian that they seemed to like despite my truly atrocious grammar.  Then the next morning we celebrated at school with armfuls of flowers from students, my last school assembly, & a LOT of picture taking & tea drinking with my 11th graders, Olha, & Valya (teachers) while we waited for the town concert at 12.  Here again my words fail me when it comes to describing the warmth & contentedness I got from being considered a part of their little group.  Inappropriately giggling during the concert was obviously nothing new for me, but laughing with them while sharing a bag of “fitness” cookies, trying & failing to figure out which language was being sung & worrying that our ears were bleeding from the ridiculously overachieving speaker system was a nice change.  It was just a comforting, cozy exchange overall & a perfect way to celebrate my last big holiday in Yampil.

Now as for the title, I put together my Bucket List back in August & have been systematically going down the line & relishing the pure joy of checking things off.  Man, do I love lists.  One goal accomplished thanks to my wonderful students was printing a full edition of our new school newspaper, The European Generation.  They’d been compiling articles & focusing on the really important things (like thirty minutes spent designing nametags) during preceding few club meetings, but managed to put it all together & send it to the presses (a.k.a. our printer) in time for Teacher’s Day.  I felt like a proud mama & wished I had room on my fridge to prominently display it despite the fairly embarrassing thank you letter & picture of me they put on the first page.  Really though, seeing their sense of accomplishment and professionalism (including making sales charts) melted my little heart  & made all of the effort completely worthwhile.  Something tells me that issue is making the cut into my suitcase even though I doubt I’ll be able to comprehend a word of the Ukrainian by this time next year.

Next on the list was the world map project that I had helped out with at Katelin’s site earlier this year.  After seeing the pictures my school wanted one of their own & thanks to help from my friends (Kacey & Katelin) & our projector we were able to conquer the world in just one weekend.  For longevity’s sake my principal preferred an inside mural which worked quite nicely since we could just shine the image onto the wall instead of mapping out a grid & attempting to freehand.  It was a lot of fun as well as a good excuse to play hostess for the weekend.  I got to see them & quite a few other PCVs in the area again last weekend when we all met up to do a project in Vinnistia.  Human trafficking is a big & frankly terrifying issue here, so we put on a seminar about the risks involved with working abroad.  Luckily there’s a program called 527 which serves as a free hotline that people can call to verify that their work opportunity is legit.  We made sure to include it in the presentation & then took to the streets sharing the good news with unsuspecting Vinnistians via posters & brochures.  It was a cool if not unconventional project & allowed us to feel like we’d earned the sushi dinner & sleepover that followed at Kacey’s.  Then this weekend I’ll get to check another exciting item off the list: a Ukrainian wedding   One of our English teachers is marrying our P.E. teacher & I couldn’t be happier for them or selfishly the chance to see such an important part of the culture.  I may not even be all that awkward since other teachers are going thus providing me with pleasant people to sit with.  Oh yeah, & did I mention I’m coming home in less than 40 days?  Life is good.

I’ve been putting all of my ‘end of the line’ pictures into a facebook album seen here & will try to update it relatively often as the list continues to shrink.  Hopefully one shot will include me giving two big thumbs up for getting a job one day.  Hopefully.    I can’t wait to see you all & hope you’re loving the unseasonably warm October…I say while wearing long underwear & gloves inside.  But I swear I’m not pouting.  Luckily 38 days leaves no time to pout

Rust-colored paint, barely peeking through the scraps of old carpeting that have been fashioned into rugs.  Slanted walls plastered haphazardly with peachy floral wallpaper.  A ceiling-to-floor peeling pastoral mural.  A full sized, tangerine oriental rug hanging on a wall opposite a fancy black shelving unit that runs the length of the room.  A window hidden behind thick, white lace curtains flanked by layers of sherbet, brocade, flowered drapes.  Felt and leather furniture draped with fluorescent fringed orange velour.  Pattern upon gaudy pattern, and inch after dusty inch of the seemingly trivial details that I already worry I’ll forget all too soon. 

This room, the main one in the Soviet-era apartment that I now call home, is a shining example of the experience that serving with the Peace Corps is enabling me to have.  Sometimes it seems to be the setting for too much of my time, and yet I already fear leaving knowing it will likely be for good.  Its tacky wallpaper that I described with disdain less than a year ago now seems vintage and endearing to me.  In the dark of winter or directly proceeding a spider spotting it seems a fortress of solitude, a cold and hostile place, yet after 18 hours of public transport ‘cozy’ is the only adjective that will do.  My landlady and the piles of her old, decrepit belongings that she stores here ensure that I never forget I’m not entirely welcome, yet the sea of faces smiling at me in photos and heartfelt trinkets from kids somehow manage to make me feel at home.  Yes, this room and this county provide a myriad of memories and a mind full of mixed emotions to sort through.  Luckily, two years in the Peace Corps supplies time for sorting galore.

I’ve now officially made my way, occasionally skipping, often crawling, to the halfway point of my service and am somewhat apprehensively embarking on a mission to analyze the life I’ve carved out for myself a half a world away.  At first this ‘carving’ consisted of me sitting on the ground legs splayed, arms crossed like a petulant five year old letting the waters of life abroad rush past me while I pouted.  Any shaping done at that time can only be credited to the same steady force that gave the Grand Canyon its depth and beauty while its rocks sat immobile.  Instead of streams flowing through, in my life it was God’s love, grace, and power gently but resolutely winding around and forging a way through my stubbornness.  Gradually I moved to cathartically voicing my frustrations by swinging a mallet at the marble block of my life here & watching chunks fall away without a hint of grace or acumen.  It is only recently that I’ve begun to realize the hidden potential waiting to be unveiled by a chisel’s simultaneously soft and deliberate strokes, and the patience of an artist genuinely striving to create something beautiful.  

While I think the artist metaphor was a bit of a stretch, in retrospect this past year really did live up to my lofty expectations.  Between the hours of frantic phone calls, sheer volume of public breakdowns, & even written proof of neurosis evident to any faithful reader from the first few months I think it’s neither a surprise nor an exaggeration to say that the first year here sucked sometimes.  Yes I made new connections, fell into a new culture (again, quite literally at times) & had incredible experiences along the way, but to be completely honest I felt like those were just silver linings to the Eyore-esque  storm cloud that hung around on occasion.  When I visited at Christmas the question “Would you do it again?” came up a few times & while my public response was always a ‘yes’ I’d be lying if I said the query didn’t give me pause.  It was a deep seated, unsettling,  ‘what if’ kind of thought that I deliberately suppressed convinced that the honest answer might bring on a little cognitive dissonance if not a full on quarter-life crisis.

Ask me today however, & I could answer honestly & immediately with an emphatic ‘absolutely’.  As crazy as it seemed to trade in my perfectly lovely life in America, it would have been even crazier to turn down the opportunity to experience life to the fullest in Ukraine.  I opened my heart up to this new culture & community, & in return it has rushed in to fill the space  with joy, love, & gratitude that I never thought possible.  The only tears that fall these days are the product of being so filled to the brim with appreciation & expectations for the future that a little spillage is unavoidable.  The life I have here & the life I get the privilege of plotting out in America are incredibly beautiful indeed.  So on this second anniversary I just want to say thank you.  Thank you to everyone who has seen me through and thank you for everything that has brought me to where I am today.  Thank you for the chance to create an exciting future at home, & thank you for two years’ worth of sustaining memories of the past that can never be taken away.  Thank you for changing me & thank you for helping me stay the same.  Thank you for understanding that only by dropping me in a place where I felt like I had nothing would I realize how incredibly much I have.  Thank you, sincerely thank you,  for Peace Corps Ukraine

And thank you for kids who do yoga in business suits.

I will officially touch down in Chi-town on the afternoon of November 17 but our last few days in country have to be spent finishing up business in Kiev, so in exactly two months I’ll have already left Yampil for good.  Insane in the membrane.  The thought just about permeates my every move as I navigate through my last few weeks teetering between the two very enticing worlds.  Not even crossing the street is safe.  In one moment I’m making note of the goat wandering along the road in a deliberate attempt to appreciate & store away the charming oddities associated with village life.   But then.  Before I know it, I realize that one of the cars yielding the barnyard animal is a Hyundai which reminds me that I ‘ve been hearing great things about that brand & should definitely check out the Carmax website after school… & just like that I’m back in a world where buying a car equipped with a cupholder for Dunkin Donuts coffee & driving with a seatbelt on roads clearly marked with speed limit signs is all a part of my reality.  It’s a mindtrip for sure.  Thankfully the lesson I’m starting to glean from these moments of mental mayhem is that whether looking at a box before or after November 17 on the calendar I’ve got it pretty good.  The morning commutes probably couldn’t be more different, but I appreciate them both immensely & either way I’ll likely spend them talking to people I love.  The difference being that here ‘talking’ implies returning my students’ enthusiastic “Hel-LOs” & there it will mean hours of catching up on all of the free calls to Fave Fives that I’ve been missing.  T-Mobile (& traffic cops for that matter) be warned.

My last first day of school was September 1 & we’ve been up & running ever since.  I have the slightly scratchy teacher voice to prove it too since apparently no amount of summer camp shenanigans compares  to the energy my little darlings exhibit during English class & the sheer voice volume required to keep them all focused.  Lucky for them, I still kind of like them & am prone to letting them get away with murder now that I realize how fleeting our time left is.  Lucky for me, they’re adorable & intersperse their arm flailing, talking-during-class with professions of love for me & boxes of chocolate.  I think we’ll get by.  My grants have finally all come completely into fruition so now I get to make the most of the time with my students by holding weekly extracurricular clubs & seminars using the new technology.  This week will  kick off our Movie Club featuring English TV shows & movies to watch & discuss after school, our Journalism Club with researching, writing & printing articles, & of course our Yoga Club with trying to follow Miss Alei as she makes weird shapes with her even weirder long limbs.  Weekends will be the prime time for a series of seminars that I want to host for older kids focusing on topics that are important but don’t quite fit in to our curriculum, like gender equality, healthy lifestyles and options for work & study abroad.  Fun for all.

This is the exact moment that she discovered I have a belly button ring forcing me to spend the rest of the night running away from the kids as they tried to touch it.

Lest you worry it’s been all work & no play I’m happy to inform you that there’s been plenty of socializing as well.  Olha invited me on an evening picnic celebration after the first day of school that involved cooking potatoes over the fire, playing Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles with her three year old son, & trying not to laugh as her husband shouted every bad word he knows in English.  It was a perfect, giggly end-of-summer celebration with Olha, Valya (teachers) & both of their big boisterous families & I was delighted as ever to be included.  My weekends have been spent away in Vinnitsia with friends & in Kiev making a dent on the mountains of paperwork that closing up shop here entails.  Both cases have provided an excellent means of easing out of summer by affording me the opportunity to keep on speaking English to my little heart’s content.  They’ve also led to more random exploits with ridiculously wonderful friends including impromptu but intense dance parties & hour-long cartwheel tutorials.   

That’s a pretty good segue into my next & final topic: taking advantage of weird opportunities PC gives me that I won’t have at home.  Realistically I will not be able to spend an entire weekend watching movies with my friends with absolutely no other obligations in the near future.  Never again will I be able to start my workday at noon two days of the week (Monday & Thursday, holler!). Crackle nail polish or metallic reverse french manicures, despite looking pretty fly, will probably no longer be considered work appropriate.  20 minute phone calls with my host mom may not be as fluent (already I catch myself feeling like one of those stuffed animals with three programmed audio responses that I default to when I don’t understand what she’s telling me but am trying to pretend otherwise).

That's what a Yoga Club poster looks like in Ukraine. And business professional nails.

I’m even trying to take advantage of the daily surprises that pop into my schedule. Like the elderly man who asked me to sit with him & translate an entire “How to Make Millions by Printing Stickers at Home” manual after school today (He’d sent away for a kit based off of who knows what cheapo advertisement & gotten a package from Los Angeles that contained some adhesive paper & a packet of instructions in English that I’m pretty sure was printed using a typewriter back in 1952).  Or the four year old girls with a makeshift stand outside of school selling apples that they picked off of trees (lemonade’s not a thing here).  As draining & frustrating as it could be in the beginning, living in a foreign country really does seem to bring something bizarre  unexpected to the forefront each day & I’m trying my darnedest to appreciate it all before I return to a land of familiarity where things tend to make sense to me.  Please remind me of that when I find some cultural difference to rant about tomorrow.

That’s just about all of the news here.  The leisurely job search has morphed into a full on job hunt partially because the clock is ticking ever louder & partially because I just finished reading the Hunger Games & everything seems a little more intense these days.  Really though, while I’m thrilled to have my house ready & filled with three wonderful roommates waiting for me in Austin (my room is literally sitting there, all empty & patient) I’ll be even more thrilled when I know I have a steady income & means of staying in said house after my Peace Corps allowance runs out.  And on that note, I’m off to embark on tonight’s application fun   Hope you’re having a splendid September!

After stocking up summer with working at camps & playing with visitors, my friends from training & I found ourselves looking at a looming bucket list & a few empty weeks on the calendar.  What to do, what to do?  Ever the problem solvers, Julia, Ashley & I decided to pack our bags yet again & head out on one last cross-country adventure.  With all of our colleagues & kids out of town, spending the few remaining weeks of our summer together seemed like an obvious choice & a fitting way to end what we started simultaneously two (sometimes) short years ago.  We also knew that the adventure would end, appropriately enough, with our Close of Service Conference which sounded all sorts of  final & warranting of a perfect last hurrah beforehand, so off we went.

Julia kicked off the fun with a stopover in scenic Yampil where we lazed away the day playing the instant makeover game online to decide on the perfect haircut for her & then marching over to the $4  salon to get it done.  The stylist proclaimed the results of her new bob “better than Pamela Anderson”, so I think it was a win   The rest of our time was spent systematically clearing out my refrigerator & doing goofy workouts that are shockingly much more fun when not sweated through solo.

The next morning we started a full day of travel that took us first to Vinnystia where we met up with Ashley, grabbed a quick ice cream, & then boarded our overnight train out west to Kolomiya.  The mission for this leg of the trip was pretty straightforward: climb Mount Hoverla, Ukraine’s tallest peak.  As seasoned PCVs however, we have learned & were reminded yet again that the simplest things sometimes prove impossible in these parts.  Our plan, based on hours of detailed internet research, was to stay at a hostel often gushed about by other volunteers in a small town within a few kilometers of the summit since the actual mountain was tricky to get to without a nearby train station.  Ideally we’d get in early, fight our way up & down the mountain, & then recover with a leisurely stroll around the quaint town known for its Easter Egg museum.  Sadly these plans were shot down within mere moments by the hostel’s friendly owner who politely informed us that the trek would cost upwards of 500 grevs (1/4 of my monthly paycheck, take the entire day, & involve a torrential downpour.

Luckily Ukraine tends to provide a bang-up Plan B & ours included a tour provided by the hostel that featured a hike through the mountains led by an adorable & English-speaking guide, lunch at a little farm nestled in the hills with fresh cheese made on site, a waterfall & a trip to a local artist’s home where we learned about the region’s ancient pottery technique firsthand.  For 1/10 of the price.  Aside from being an incredible way to take in the scenery & get a full-on Carpathian experience, it was also a nice illustration of all the amazing experiences just waiting to be had when we forfeit our grand plans & expectations.  I am notoriously bad at this, but am loving each reminder that comes my way when I finally do let go & hope to tuck this away as a lesson from my service overall.

Another weakness of mine that I’m noticing Ukraine battering on down is my stubborn desire to do what I think is best.  Blame the oldest child syndrome, but my overwhelming tendency is to show that I’m an independent, self-sufficient woman & can do things by my self, thank you very much.  From that perspective I would have been likely to (OK, fine, I did ) prickle under the the hostel owner’s well-intending advice & been tempted to forage on ahead with our plan just to prove that it could be done.  In all honestly it probably could have, but if I hadn’t given way to the idea that possibly someone (not to mention someone who was a native whose livelihood depended on knowing about cool things & ensuring that tourists have a good time) knew better we’d have missed out on an amazing cultural experience & I would have resented what I now know was only an expression of the utmost concern & care displayed by the hostel.  Point Ukraine. On that note if anyone is ever in the area & wants to see Ukrainian hospitality at its finest I wholeheartedly recommend On the Corner Hostel.  From the train station pickup & drop off, to the delicious homemade meals (with real coffee!), to the cozy beds, & comforting conversation we felt like we were cherished guests in someone’s home rather than weary travelers looking to crash for the night.

How’s that for a tangent?  Moving right along, the next morning we had to bid farewell to Julia who was off on an international trip of her own that would include Dracula’s castle in Romania amongst other things.  Meanwhile Ashley & I got to enjoy 13 hours of (daytime) train travel playing cards & trying to imagine what post-PC life will be like  that eventually brought us in to Vinnystia at 10pm.  Normally this would not be ideal, but my teacher friend Olha saved the day again by graciously offering to let us stay at her sister’s apartment while they were on vacation.  I have no idea how I’m going to sufficiently say good-bye, not to mention thank-you to that woman in 79 days.  We met up with our friends Katelin & Kacey & hung out in the city the following day getting ready for our next two bucket list items on the agenda: an overnight train trip with friends & a trip to the beaches of Crimea.

Most trains have the option of platzcart  or koupe seating.  Both have compartments with four benches (two at ground level, two halfway up the wall)  facing each other that extend down the length of the train.  The main difference is that koupe seats are closed off with a door so you only are seeing/hearing/smelling 3 other people, are longer so your (or at least my) feet don’t hang over the edge, & more expensive.  Platzcart is the usual go-to for volunteers since it’s cheaper & feels safer (just try to pull something with a car full of 60 babusias poised & ready to scold), but since there were four of us & we were looking to ride in style & speak English loudly without getting stares we opted to ball out in koupe, & certainly made the most of the experience.  We assembled a full spread of train food including buterbrods (like open face sandwiches), chips, & bevies, & stayed up late blasting our music & plotting ridiculous schemes for the beach.  Good fun with great people.

The next day we got into the main transportation hub around 4, divided & conquered the notoriously stressful bus station, & found ourselves on a 2 hour bus ride taking us deep into the mountains of Crimea at dusk.  Going off of sketchy-at-best directions we found a taxi driver sporting a captain’s hat that understood the name of the beach I was told to say who said he would drive us for 200 grevs.  The other drivers were all quoting 400, so hopping in The Captain’s car seemed like a great idea until it started off-roading deep into the mountains & traversing a rocky trail that we knew we could never trace back especially in the pitch blackness.  We were pretty sure he was going to kill us.  Then just as we were trying to decide who was most equipped to defend us (I have a mean jumpkick, but Kacey had a Swiss Army knife) good old Captain pulled into what it seemed could only be a movie scene with quaint little restaurants, beautiful mountains, a perfect calm sea & tents lining the beach as far as the eye could see.  Our cell phones weren’t working due to the secluded location, but our friends that had arrived earlier that morning just so happened to see us wandering through & were able to lead us to the campsite that we would have never found in the dark alone.  It all really came together almost too perfectly, & by the night’s end we were setting up our sweet camouflage tent on the sand & falling asleep to the crashing waves.

As if the uncharacteristic convenience wasn’t enough to set our beach apart, how’s this for fun- it was a nude beach.  Luckily the nudity was optional as even after 5 days of  being completely immersed I was too much of a child to not laugh every time I saw someone completely naked save for a ridiculously placed accessory (read: foam butt pad or fedora).  So no, I stayed clothed although “clothed” would more accurately be “swim-suited” since the vast majority of my time was spent lying on the beach soaking up the last of the summer sun.  With 12 other volunteers along for the trip we managed to fill our time swimming in the ocean, building rock creations in the sand, making friendship bracelets, having handstand contests, climbing the surrounding mountains, star gazing, attempting to bathe in the sea, belting out guitar-led sing-alongs, & initiating dance-offs accompanied by drum circles.  It really was a magical experience right down to the dolphins that often swam up to shore, & probably as close to being a hippie as I’ll ever get.

Speaking of hippies, as far as descriptive adjectives go even before ‘nakie’ I would have to classify the non-American beach dwellers first & foremost as ridiculously ‘nice’.  They were mostly from Ukraine & Russia, but came from all walks of life, rocked all sorts of dreads & were remarkably friendly despite our presence as an unprepared & seldom quiet group of Americans.  Many of them lived at the beach all summer & lent us their expertise via advice, hot meals, & great company (naked! Yep, still funny).  Overall it was a weird but wonderful experience that I’m pretty positive will fall into the ‘Once in a Lifetime’ category.

By the end of the week we were a little sad to say goodbye to what we were pretty sure was a different world, but the promise of a bathroom not to mention a hot shower propelled us onward to the next stop on our journey.  Ashley, Matt, Chris, Ricardo & I were all from Group 37 (the people who arrived in country in September 2009 with me) & thus needed to get to the conference in Slavske (out west), & we wisely decided to break up our trip into two overnight train rides which gave us a day to kill in Odessa.  Translation: internet, the chance to wash the sand out of places we didn’t even know we had, & falafel.  Quite a winning combination.  Then before we knew it we were boarding the train, playing Ukrainian card games into the night & waking up in our final destination ready to take in some information on a both terrifying & thrilling topic called ‘Life after Peace Corps’.

The conference was designed not only to help us prepare for our departure in 3 short months, but also make us realize what we’ve accomplished over the course of 2 years & appreciate the ways we’ve changed & grown.  Peace Corps put us up in really nice hotels, fed us copiously, & factored in plenty of time for us to mingle & share with those who have gone through the whole experience alongside us.  Our group is so big (97 people) that there really were names & faces I’d never seen, but it was indescribably great to be reunited with the people who have so colored my entire experience & will now & always be a significant part of who I am.  One of my absolute favorite moments was a group hug/huddle with all of my cluster from Morozivka where we laughed our way through descriptions of how we’ve all changed, promised to instate  bi-annual reunions once home & cemented the deal with beautiful crosses (friendship bracelet equivalents?) that Thomas bought for us in Israel.  I’ll never understand how I got so lucky to be a part of this group, but I know for sure that my time here would be a fraction of what it is without them.  Listening to each others’ ridiculous vacation stories, trying to make each other laugh while busting heinous moves on the dance floor, & saying literally anything that comes to mind knowing that we can all take it makes our motley little crew feel like family to me.  If that’s the case then I won the lottery in that department on both sides of the Atlantic & while I just don’t know how that’s fair, I couldn’t feel more blessed.

See, I told you there would be sap.  They also pulled on our heartstrings by giving us a presentation about how to wrap things up in town & say our goodbyes.  Sitting in the conference room trying to fight back the tears as I thought of bidding a horrible, final farewell to my host fam, kids, & colleagues felt all too reminiscent of a time 2 years ago when I was losing the same battle on a couch during our first language class while yearning for home.  How’s that for full circle?

In order to not end this excessively long note on that depressing tone I’ll throw in something that I found quite hilarious from the ‘Superlative’ portion of the event.  The idea was that everyone would make up & email superlatives for their friends so each person would have an accurate but funny title from people who know them well.  The only problem was no one in our cluster sent them in.  Whoops.  As such, I will go down in Group 37 history as ‘Most Likely to Walk Like a Ballerina’ &…here’s the punchline…’Most Stable’.  The ballerina thing I get mostly because of my posture & the fact that I’m usually daydreaming/monologueing/organizing something while walking which I could suppose could add up to a prance of sorts, but stable?  Really?  Honestly as glad as I was that the moniker I feared (Tallest) didn’t make the cut, I eventually began to wonder if  ‘stable’ was suggested as a mean joke since  without you all in my day to day life I feel about as sturdy as holodets (meat jello).  I was reassured that it wasn’t, but still have the sneaking suspicion that whoever sent that email has probably never had a 5 minute conversation with me.  And they’ve definitely never seen me walk on ice.

So there we have it.  Tomorrow is the last day before fall & while I hate to see the edges of the leaves in town starting to change, I couldn’t have asked for a better summer.  I hope yours was just as memorable

Yet another of my new favorite toys:

Photos by Alei Cook, Aug 28, 2011 – Making the most of our last summer in Ukraine.

Sunday, July 17

• Busride to Vinnitsia, train to Kiev, electrychka to Morozivka. 10 hours door to door, but worth it indeed.
• Fruitlessly studied French in the morning & got waves of realization that I was going to London & Paris w/ Ashley. Almost cried I was so excited.
• Played with the hamster & watched TV with my host family. Can’t believe how limited our time left together is. Almost cried again.

Monday, July 18

• Bummed around in Morozivka.
• Woke up at 9 & had breakfast with the girls.
• Rode on the back on Yanna’s new moped to go pick berries from the forest. Thought I might die, but a very picturesque village moment nonetheless.
• I wanted to treat the girls to manicures while their Mom was at work & explained as such. They reluctantly agreed, but then an hour later said there was no time so instead Yanna gave us manicures. Ready to board the plane to the fashion capital of the world with a French manicure completely covered in loose glitter dipped in topcoat.
• Picked more fruit from the yard to make into juice. Walked to a pond/lake where we swam, sunbathed & enjoyed kvas & sunflower seeds all day.
• Snijanna said that the manure smell was Morozivka’s Chanel Number 5. Took a summer shower outside.
• Had dinner with the whole family & then picked cucumbers & peppers my host mom & went on a walk around town.
• Talked with the girls and my Host Mom about the problems Baba Raya is having with her 3^rd husband (first 2 died tragically. I think one fell in front of a train) & discussed how it’s better to wait & pick the right person since forever is such a long time. Talked about adoption & mixed-race babies. Yanna likes mixed races & my host mom not so much but we all agreed that it mostly matters who you fall in love with & not to choose specifically either way. I love them.
• I think I would like to live in the village during summer if not for that pesky food pushing.

Tuesday, July 19

• Woke up at 3:30 due 1/3 parts mosquito bite to the face & 2/3 too excited to sleep.
• My host Mom’s koom (similar to a godmom/bestie) came to pick me up in their car & take me to the airport.
• I made it all the way through every gate & security point in 15 minutes & used WiFi while drinking a gigantic Costa Coffee.  One guard even talked to me nicely about Peace Corps.
• Seamless flight in which I almost cried again.  Avoided the in-flight dining meal of potatoes, peas & spam hot dogs.
• Tried three different ATMs to get Euro as all I had were Hyrivnia.  Discovered that no one buys Hyrivnia.
• Tried three times in the London train station to do the automatic ticket ordering before realizing that just because they speak English doesn’t mean it’s not a foreign country.
• Made it to the right station & excitedly walked down the street smiling like a goon.  I don’t think anyone has ever been so excited to see a Subway &/or red phone booths.
• Arrived at our hostel after an hour of walking to & past the hostel’s other location.
• Met Ashley & Jen at last, put my stuff down at our former courthouse hostel, & headed back out for London Tower.
• Laughed at a Yeoman Beefeater’s cheesy jokes & toured thousands of years of English royal history including the spots where Anne Bolelyn & Co lived, died, & were buried.  Amazed by the architecture & sad to rush through the castle.  Did manage to see & pick out our crown jewels of choice.
• Walked around the city to what we thought was (the very tacky) London Bridge.  Realized later it was the Tower Bridge & the London Bridge is further down but much more boring.
• Had my first of many Starbucks.  Sugar-free syrup is my best friend.
• Devoured Chinese food & mix & match trail mix while strolling through Trafalgar Square & Picadilly Circus.
• Saw Buckingham Palace, the Parliament building (complete with Big Ben), and Windsor Palace all lit up for night.  Stunning movie scenes left & right.
• Went to bed fat & very happy.

Wednesday, July 20

• Woke up & booked it bright & early to St. Paul’s Cathedral.  Very reminiscent of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome & every bit as beautiful.  Remembered how much I like audio tours.
• Made our way back to Trafalgar’s Square in an attempt to buy Phantom of the Opera tickets.  No luck, but we did manage to get seats for Jersey Boys.
• Continued with churchiness on a tour of Westminster Abbey.  Absolutely loved all of it but was most impressed with the Henry VII Chapel, burial sites of Jane Austen & Captain Cook, & knowledge that we were walking in the exact location of the royal wedding between Wills & Cate.
• Used our metro passes to get to & from the hostel in time for our theatre date.  This is as good a time as any to comment on how much I like & appreciate London’s clean & organized public transport.  Little did we know that is not the norm & Brits get mad props in my book for their consideration.
• Saw & swayed along to Jersey Boys.  Absolutely loved it & will certainly be downloading the soundtrack.
• Savored a plate of spinach for dinner (& have never been happier about it) before crashing back at the hostel.

Thursday, July 21

• Jen’s flight left early in the morning so Ashley patiently waited & helped as we made yet another fruitless attempt to score Phantom tickets.  No dice, but drowning my sorrows in a long-awaited cup of Greek yogurt helped a lot.
• Pressed on & made our way to the adorable Kensington neighborhood for a very scenic morning stroll.  The discussion of logistics regarding our new fun life in Austin (hopefully involving a four bedroom house with our friends & a puppy) certainly didn’t hurt.
• Checked out the Natural History Museum.  Learned a lot about mammals, but mostly were amazed by the building’s intricate & incredible stonework.  I’m not ruling it out as another future residence.
• Wandered into Harrod’s for what turned out to be a transformational experience in my book.  I thought Marshall Field’s would forever hold my heart, but I think Harrod’s might have shown it up.  Every section was amazing & I felt like I was in a museum as we walked through gigantic rooms artfully filled with everything I wanted to buy.  Mostly chinaware (which is weird), but still.  Decided it may be worth it to marry rich.
• Had an evening snack in Heaven The Candy Bar where we split white chocolate mochas, a chocolate peanut butter brownie, and a chocolate & hazelnut pastry.  We loitered for well over an hour picking crumbs off of our plates & expressing indignation that should probably be reserved for murderous dictators about the other (insane) customers who didn’t clean their plates.  Although really, that’s an understatement as their plates were maybe halfway finished & I’m pretty sure the cleaning staff was forced to throw away chocolate concoctions that I would happily eat every day for the rest of my life.  I might be holding onto a little resentment, but it was only because the chocolate was just. that. good.
• Continued our perusing (our total time in store probably neared the 4 hour point) until we were ready to venture outside for my first proper British meal of fish & chips with a toffee apple cider.  Pleasantly surprised by how much I like English food.
• Went back & packed up for the next day’s departure.

Friday, July 22

• Enjoyed a daily to-go coffee while waiting in line to buy Chunnel tickets.
• Wandered around Camden market with its funky stores & miles of lace, neon, & quirky souvenirs.  Wished I wasn’t so lanky so I could wear some of this season’s dresses without flashing my bum (see how British I am?) to unsuspecting passerbys.
• Found a delightful DIY Indian restaurant/kiosk with the best chutney I can ever remember.  Turns out spicy food + Diet Coke + seats made from old motorcycles + a river view + good company = quite a lovely lunch.
• Discovered later that we were right in Amy Winehouse’s neighborhood on what turned out to be her last day
• Grabbed our stuff from the hostel & headed out for a surprisingly short train ride to Paris.
• Discovered 5 minutes in how complicated our relationship with the City of Light would turn out to be.  We really loved the experience, but Paris is apparently a hater as almost everything that could have gone wrong did starting with the train station “attendant” who saw us having trouble buying Metro tickets, offered to help by giving us the 10 ticket pass that we were trying to buy in exchange for our 20 Euro, & then sent us on our way.  Moments later while standing in a dingy underground station that looked & smelled a lot like what I’ve grown accustomed to in Kiev we discovered that the badge & uniform were a fun costume as he’d really just given us used tickets & taken our money.  Bienvenue a Paris.
• A little shaken, but optimistic for a better turn of events we got to our hostel only to find that the room we were sharing with 6 people didn’t have anywhere to lock away the months’ worth of valuables that we were toting.  Attempted to switch hostels, but was told it was impossible by our rather snobby front desk worker & were advised to try again in the morning when the manager would be in.
• Drowned our sorrows at a nearby café where we discovered France’s two redeeming qualities- cheese & chocolate.

Saturday, July 23

• After spending the previous evening convincing ourselves that we could stick it out despite the lack of security, we found ticks in our beds.  Hashed it out with the new but even less helpful employee who ended up accusing us of bringing the bugs in, refusing to let us cancel the reservation, charging us for two nights even though we only stayed one, & then threatening to report us to the police.  Would have retorted with “Deport me, I dare you” had I remembered any of my French.
• Cut our losses & booked it to the closest Best Western.
• Were convinced we made the right choice the moment our heads hit the clean, individual pillows.
• Headed out with renewed optimism…directly into a huge storm.
• Trudged through freezing cold rain for about an hour before finding respite at the Louvre.  Wandered around for 4 hours partially lost in the art & partially just lost.  That place is enormous.  Made it to the Mona Lisa before deciding it was clear enough to try our hand outside.
• Discovered the healing power of a cheese plate yet again, this time with cherry jam thrown in the mix. Were openly mocked for no apparent reason by a few French customers protecting their stellar reputation.
• Walked all around the city from the Eiffel Tower, to the markets of Rue Cler, to the Champs Elysee & all the way to the Arc de Triomphe.  Very beautiful, but very cold. McDonald’s mini macaroons & hot coffee helped.
• Called it a night early in order to Skype with the fams.

Sunday, July 24

• Woke up early for a much need escape out of town to Versailles.
• Attempted to aide the early wakeup call with coffee from the machine in the subway.  Was given a cup of hot water instead.  Spilled said hot water on my face while trying to warm it.  Did I mention Paris hates us?
• Were whisked away into the grandeur of the Palace of Versailles.  Definitely a touch over-extravagant, but an incredible piece of history nonetheless.
• Went for a long & scenic stroll in the gardens imagining what it would be like to actually have a backyard that stretched for miles.
• Grew an even greater affinity for Marie Antoinette after touring her “quaint” pink & yellow marble summer house.  It really was a teenage girls’/19th century Barbie dream house  & she was a teenage girl, so I’m in the cut-her-some-slack category.  Played a rousing few rounds of the “which would you wear” game as the mansion had an awesome exhibit that compared authentic dresses from the 1800s with modern designers’ (Vivienne Westwood, et al) interpretations of them.
• More macaroons accompanying the tour around her once fully functioning peasant village.  OK, maybe that was a bit much.
• Despite having already spent the majority of the day sauntering around the palace & gardens we weren’t quite ready to burst the bubble of a sass-free day away by heading back to Paris, so we stayed in town for a much needed intake of vegetables via a blue cheese salad…delicieux.
• Eventually & somewhat apprehensively headed back & made a beeline for the Arc de Triomphe.  Felt a little Clark Griswald-ish trying to figure out how to cross the circle traffic intersection (underground, who knew?) but finally made it & climbed to the top for a gorgeous Parisian panoramic.
• Decided to man up & stay up late to watch the Eiffel Tower all lit up & sparkly.  We’d caught a glimpse of it the previous night while on the metro en route to the hotel & were under the impression that once it was dark (10pm) the tower glittered for the rest of the night.
• Walked to the Trocadero (pavilion with the best view in town) & spent 2 hours listening to the Native American band (?) that was playing, taking really artistic photographs, & eating chocolate crepes while waiting for the main event.
• At 11:00 the dazzling lights started up as did a frenzy of photo-taking during the course of which I was punched by a 5 year old standing nearby.  Apparently they start ‘em young here when it comes to attitude towards tourists.  I considered flat-tiring him but though better of it (a.k.a. couldn’t find him in the crowd).
• Were shocked to find that the glitz stopped after exactly 5 minutes.  Thanked our lucky stars that we made it when we did & headed back for some much needed rest.

Monday, July 25

• Got an early start in an attempt to beat the lines at the Eiffel Tower.
• Bought a quiche to quell the upset stomach that I thought was hunger-related & then immediately proceeded to drop it on the street.  Luckily Ashley was a good sharer of her chocolate baguette.
• Bypassed the queuing folks on the ground floor by climbing the 800 some stairs up to the first level & second levels.  Realized I was not just hunger sick & started a mad search for the restroom where again I was reminded that I don’t know French anymore as all I could muster to tell the attendant should I need to cut the line was “I want to throw up” or “I can throw up”.  The plain old verb for “will” eluded me.  Followed through on my threat.  Take a moment & try to think of a toilet with more international germs to hover your face all-too-near.  Yuck.
• Determined not to let Paris win again & pretty convinced I had no more chocolate products left in my stomach, I decided to ride the elevator up to the top anyways.  Wrong-o on the latter part which is sad in itself but also because I can now no longer say “Never have I ever puked on top of the Eiffel Tower” which just always comes up when we play that game.  Luckily the view was pretty great & the experience hilarious if not disgusting in hindsight.
• Slowly trudged back down the tower & started to search for Reese Witherspoon after reading that she was in town for her honeymoon.  No luck on the stalking front, but it did lead us through some pretty swanky areas & along the Champs Elysee which we found much more enjoyable in the sunny weather.
• Headed all the way down to the Isle de Cite, the oldest part of town located on a little island, & did a 2 hour touristy marathon of the jam-packed sites.  I started with the underground prison that was the last stop of many unfortunate players in the French Revolution including little Marie.  Next door was Saint Chappelle which was  a beautiful chapel created to house Jesus’ crown of thorns & made me wish my mom was with me (as always, of course) since the inside walls were completely stained glass.  Quite stunning.   Finally on to Notre Dame with its gargoyles and grandeur but a lot less singing & dancing then Disney led me to believe.  We liked that part of town a lot better & probably could have done with more time there, but we had bags to pack & a train to catch for the next morning’s early flight to Poland.
• Thought Paris really was going to be the death of us when we saw two burly men walking briskly past in completely unmarked full camo uniforms toting rifles (or some scary looking gun that I don’t know the name of) at the train station.
• Made it to Beauvais (the town near the airport) @ 10 & decided that we might only have a problem with the city folk after making friends with the drive-through attendant at a fast food place who let us walk through the car lane & then politely chatted us up.
• Changed our minds when we realized that our slight dining detour meant that it was now too late to get a taxi & we’d have to walk to our hotel in the dark.  Got lost because the maps are oriented backwards in Beauvais (arrogant American, party of one).  Miraculously found a bus (running NOT according to the schedule) that took us to our hotel where we promptly passed out.

Tuesday, July 26

• Alarm went off at an ungodly hour & we scrambled to get our stuff packed & out the door.  Thought again that we were going to have to stay in France forever as we ran towards the bus that pulled up to the stop while we were a good 100 meters away & caged in the hotel’s ridiculously inconvenient fencing system.  Luckily our awkward attempt at a sprint w/ luggage paid off & we made it with time to spare.
• Yet another run-in with rude French airline attendants made us happier than ever to say “au revoir” to France.
• Packed ourselves sardine-style into a bus that literally drove a total of 40 feet to the airplane stairs.  Oh France.
• Landed safely in Poland & were immediately won over by their fun airport snacks & friendly citizens who guided us to the bus station, helped us buy our tickets to the town that Auschwitz was in, found our train, & told us nicely when to get off despite our language barrier.  We love Poland.
• Found our way to Auschwitz thanks again to patient Poles listening to me mumbling through Russian.  (The languages are pretty similar, but Polish uses the Latin alphabet instead of the Cyrillic).  For a pretty big tourist draw there were surprisingly no signs or other obvious indicators of where we were, which in retrospect I think is kind of nice.
• Spent a chilling few hours paying our respects at the concentration camp where over 1.5 million people passed through during Hitler’s reign just for being different.  It was obviously not a “smile & make a peace sign for the camera” kind of excursion, but I would wholeheartedly recommend the experience to anyone.  Certain parts were understandably brutal, but they organized it in a way where only the facts were given without any embellishment or melodramatic music.  It turns out the facts are more than enough.  Ashley noticed & I agree that despite the purpose of the camp’s creation the overall layout & homey brick buildings made it almost haunting yet inviting & neighborhood-esque.  I’m not doing a great job of putting it into words & honestly don’t know that it can be accurately described, but it was a moving & memorable trip that I would sincerely recommend seeing.
• Sped along in a taxi towards our second close-call of the day for the last evening train to Krakow.
• The train station just so happened to let us out into a full-out, fluorescently lit, shiny tile floored, glorious mall with 30 minutes before closing time.  Did I mention we really like Poland?  I savored some long-awaited Subway (everything tasted just like it was supposed to!) & crammed in some window shopping before 11 when we headed out into the beautiful streets of Krakow towards our hostel, which turned out to be not bug infested & actually very cool.  Sadly we had another early morning flight because otherwise we both would have loved to see more of Krakow’s many beautiful sights that we passed by in the evening.  Maybe next time.

Wednesday, July 27

• After spending all our zloty (Polish currency) on more chocolate we were off to Ukraine which sounded surprisingly comforting to me if for no other reason than I’d be able to communicate easily again.  Never thought that day would come almost 2 years ago while sitting in language class with Crapton.
• Met up with Katelin, Adrian & Jess near the train station for some catching up & ice cream before elbowing our way onto the electrychka to Morozivka.
• Almost immediately Ash suffered her first drunken-old-man encounter as one stumbled up to her while we were sitting outside & tried to awkwardly kiss her shoulder.  Even more horrifying, she thought he was trying to spit on her & still she played it off way more casually than I’d have been able to.  Molodets.
• Then she got some firsthand experience with force-feeding, but handled it like a champ, especially when I couldn’t exactly ask if their “vegetarian” borscht was made with animal-based broth so I just had to claim that she didn’t like soup.  Outrage.  They were a little shy, but sweet & it was nice to see them again as well as pass out on the pullout couch that I now call home.

Thursday, July 28

• With my host mom at work, Ashley & I toured the town for a bit & then took a roundabout way to Kiev under Yanna’s deft guidance (electrychka, to marshrutka, to another marshrutka, to the metro) since the normal train was out of service due to preparation for next summer’s EuroCup event.  Yikes.
• Yanna accompanied us to St. Sophia’s church & then headed off to school leaving Ashley & I to spend the rest of the day wandering around the city’s many churches & outdoor markets.  Eventually we found stands that sold our favorite licorice as well as pick & choose candy, & ended up having a perfect dinner in the park before heading to the train station.
• Boarded our overnighter train & headed out at 11pm for Yampil.

Friday, July 29

• Arrived bright & early at 4:30 where we were jam packed onto a marshrutka to Yampil.  After 5 minutes of waiting for the bus to go while more & more questionably unshowered people pushed their way on I remembered that Ashley can get claustrophobic & panicked about how the next 2 hours would go/if there was any possible way to get out at that point.  Luckily, she was a champ yet again & fought through the 2 hours of sweat & discomfort with a smile.
• Crashed in my apartment & woke up around noon.
• Made our way to the bazaar where we just so happened to run in to practically everyone that’s nice to me in town in a row.  Really couldn’t have orchestrated that better had I tried.
• Ran some errands & then listened to some Bobby Bones (Austin’s radio station morning show that I will soon get the privilege of hearing daily en route to the job that I still need to find) while repacking for the next & final leg of the journey.
• Were treated to a garden party at Olha’s house with the whole family & were sent on the rest of our walk around town with a bag full of tomatoes & corn for our train travels the next day.  Love them.
• Pampered ourselves & our poor/disgusting feet after weeks of travel with a foot soak from Yampil’s fancy new Walgreen’s-ish store.  Upgrade!

Saturday, July 30

• Slept in for a welcome change before loading up our stuff & heading out on the next adventure, destination Baseball Camp.
• Had an uneventful three hour busride to Vinnitsia made better by our favorite treat, instant coffee packets & bottled water for an almost-Frappuccino.
• Met up with my friends Kacey & Sarah & bummed around until our 4:00 train where we whipped out the garlic & pepper feasted on our raw tomatoes like true Ukrainians.
• Got into Khmelnitski around 7 & had a grand reunion with almost all of my training cluster plus some old friends from camp last year.  Hugs & laughter all around.
• Proceeded to the first & only disco experience for Ms. Chamberlain.  I think we made it count though with spaz dancing galore & she fit right in even requesting a Kanye song or two before the night’s end.

Sunday, July 31

• Woke up late & headed out to the baseball field for some Championship game action.  It was the same camp that I had done last year so it was nice to see some familiar faces.  Sadly it was also very cold so much of our day was spent seeking out hot coffee to hold.
• Hung out with my big, mixed group of friends loving seeing how so many paths had crossed & how lucky I was to be a part of it all.
• Had a little bonfire with the baseball players & counselors before heading to the train station with Julia for our final stop, Odessa.
• I’m counting 11pm-6am as Sunday since I wasn’t able to sleep on the train’s upright seating.  Oh well, at least I knew my fellow passengers this time.

Monday, August 1

• Rolled into the hostel rather early & took full advantage of the couch & shower to clean our cold selves up.
• Made a beeline to the beach as soon as the sun allowed it where we spent the vast majority of the day sprawled out on the sand sleeping & people-watching to our hearts’ content.
• Got all dolled up & headed out to a kind-of Thai restaurant followed by a night of strolling around Odessa’s scenic downtown area in search of Baskin Robbin’s.  ‘Strolling’ turned into ‘fleeing” a few times when I saw the idiotic street vendors wielding pythons in the park.  Not cool.
• Eventually met up with more friends sharing an apartment for the weekend for some card games before realizing that the beach & subpar sleeping arrangements the night before left us too tired to disco it up again.
• Decided it was well worth missing out the moment my head hit the pillow.

Tuesday, August 2

• More beach fun.  I think a big secret to our travel success is that we tend to favor the exact same temperature (hot) & arrange everything around seeking warmth &/or basking in it.
• Were eventually joined by other friends but mostly spent the entire day straight lounging on the beach.
• Ash very graciously treated Julia & I to a delicious Indian food dinner (at a restaurant weirdly enough called London) before we spent her last night in town walking around the downtown area again taking it all in.

Wednesday, August 3

• Early morning exit   The hostel worked gave us a scare by not actually calling the cab when he said he would, but we made it to the airport on time nonetheless & even managed to talk the airline attendant into grudgingly letting Ashley take her bag as a carry-on.  Goodbyes suck, but thankfully I think this marked the last of the sad trips to the airport as my next flight will be for HOME on November 17

I can’t believe a) how lucky I am to have experienced all of this b) how great a friend I have in Smash & c) that you are still reading this!  Seriously, I am sick of my voice right now.  You should go eat a cookie (or possibly a macaroon) to reward yourself on making it all the way through.  Thank you very much for your patience & interest.  Here’s a photo slideshow in case your eyes want a break from reading:

Photos by Alei Cook, Aug 9, 2011

I learned pretty early on that free time alone at my site is to be avoided at all costs, so by 8:00 the morning after our graduation ceremony in Yampil I was on a bus to my first destination for Operation Summer Fun- Katelin’s site Shargorod.  I had a three days gap before needing to report to my first camp & she just so happened to have a cool World Map project going on that not only helped her school, but also let me fill the void left from the DIY projects that Mom & I used to spend summer taking on.  This one included plotting out a 20 x 30 feet grid, chalking outlines for all of the continents & then painting it all in.  There were a few bumps in the road, (like when despite our careful cross-multiplying we realized that the Ukrainian printer paper we’d based the entire huge grid on was NOT 8 ½” x 11” or for my pun-loving friends, the literal bumps a.k.a. eroding dirt patches scattered throughout the old blacktop that sucked up all of our precious paint) but overall it was a fun & fulfilling project that I’m hoping to talk my school into recreating in early August.  On that note, if anyone at home is interested in contributing to the cause we’d just need $100 to cover paint costs which doesn’t really warrant a grant but would definitely be appreciated nonetheless.  No pressure whatsoever, but please shoot me an email or comment if you’d like to help

Before the oil-based paint even had time to flake away from my skin (which it turns out takes days regardless of how scrupulously I scrub) I was meeting up with my student Sasha on the overnight to Odessa for the next big adventure, three weeks at Camp Bereg.

Luckily for us ‘Bereg’ means ‘beach’ which is precisely what we were able to take full advantage of for most of the month of June.  For that superficial reason amongst others I can safely say that my time spent there secured a spot on my Top Ten list of favorite experiences in Peace Corps thus far.  The venue was beautiful & included one of the fanciest pools I’ve seen this side of the Atlantic, & the pace was perfect, but what really pushed it over the edge were the people involved.  I’m always pretty up for working with kids, but this group of campers in particular were some of the most genuine, positive & friendly that I’ve had the privilege of meeting here.  They were from all around the country & varied in age from 6 to 16, but they hit it off immediately, took care of each other like family & were straight up bawling when it was time to leave.

The 10-15 American counselors also added to the fun.  With a kind of ridiculous 1:1 ½ ratio we were so over adequately staffed that we were able to work in shifts, so our working day was either 8am-3pm or 3pm-9pm.  Plus “working” involved teaching one hour of English in the morning & then entertaining the kids with countless hours of volleyball, crafting, playing Uno & French braiding hair before lunch, laying by the pool or going to the beach until dinner, & then having concerts or outside dance parties after dinner.  None too shabby. 

One of the most memorable evening camp activities included marching our littles over to a neighboring Moldovan camp for a kid disco in which I spent a good 45 minutes signing autographs.  It started with one little girl & believe it or not I’m not used to that kind of request & thought it would be fun to write an inspirational message like “Reach for the stars” instead of just my name.  Cute at first, significantly less so when there was a line of 40 Moldovan kids waiting for messages while snapping paparazzi pictures with their swanky phones.  I ran out of relevant things to say after like the first two kids & before long found myself writing “Just dance”, “Don’t stop believing”, & any other cheesy song titles or advertising campaigns that popped into my head.  Thank goodness no one knows English here.

The counselors all stayed at a different complex that was a convenient 10 minute walk away, so our evenings were full of off-duty fun occasionally involving sleeping on the roof, inappropriate yoga videos, makeshift ice cream cakes & strawberry daiquiris, & hours of sing-a-longs to classic 90’s hits (& yes, my Gansta’s Paradise prowess was put to the test again).  It was a very laid-back crowd that made for a relaxing & occasionally ridiculous camp experience.  I guess the tan I worked my way up to didn’t hurt either.

I ended up staying a few extra days to help with the new group of campers before stopping in at my site just long enough to switch out my clothes in time for my next, & final post, Wizard Camp.  This one was run by the same organization that I worked with last year & was much more focused on language with 4 lessons a day & 55 kids total in attendance.  The kids’ age & ability level varied, but they were all fun to work with & I was lucky enough to be the group leader for the littlest kids that happened to be all young ladies who appropriately chose the team name Supergirls.  They were adorable, motivated & small enough that they still thought the counselors were cool, so I was treated to two full weeks of hand holding & tea parties.  They also had a very qualified Ukrainian staff that we co-taught with who handled the bulk of the lesson planning looking to us mostly for reinforcement, pronunciation, & fun outside activities.  Each day had a theme & a corresponding activity like “Space” with an intergalactic fashion show, & the kids & counselors went all out & made every activity fun.  Our schedule was packed from 7:20am to 11:00pm but the other Americans, (some of whom were there with me last year) managed to unwind afterwards via rounds of homemade Apples to Apples & other games that led to all sorts of good conversation.  We also had a rematch of last year’s basketball throwdown accompanied again by patriotic regalia & cheering kids, but sadly resulting in the same outcome as far as the final score (a loss, albeit a close one) & damage done to my face courtesy of what I now know for sure is not a soft ball.  At least this year it was less a result of my clumsiness or lack of night vision & more because an upset opponent kicked the ball in frustration.

The fact that it just so happened to ricochet directly towards my nose can only be an example of God’s sense of humor, which I did find pretty hilarious once I’d confirmed that I didn’t sustain a Jan Brady-esque injury right before my big Eurotrip.

The camp finished up yesterday & marked the first time that I had to explain to the kiddos that I couldn’t come back next year per request because I’d be living in America by then.  They didn’t quite comprehend & were holding out for maybe the next year or the year after that which made me realize just how final of a break this November will usher in.  I’m obviously thrilled to the point of distracting daydreaming about my upcoming return home, but seeing the kids’ faces made my stomach drop a little & has me dreading the goodbye that awaits my community of kids in Yampil & host family in particular.  It seems like a bit of a cruel trick that the prospect of leaving illustrates how strong these connections have become just as it’s time to move on from them.  Two years often seemed like an unbearable amount of time to be away, but at least it was a tangible time frame.  Who knows when I’ll make my way back to visiting what I now call home?  Yikes.  If someone wants to go ahead & get on inventing that teleportation device (fo free) I’d be much obliged.

Or perhaps if science isn’t your cup of tea you’d prefer to email me a list of jobs that I can choose from with socially responsible companies who are trying to dazzle me with how wonderful they are.  You know, in all of your spare time In other words the job search has been started in earnest & is making me value the few free weeks that I’ll have in August now that I remember how much time & careful consideration is involved in finding & applying for something that realistically could critically color the next chapter of my life.  Shoot, that reminds me that I don’t know Ukrainian word for ‘daunting’.

I suppose that’s enough of the whining about something that in all honesty is take-my-breath away exciting as of late.  I know that the remaining four (Four!) months will present a challenge or two, but my resounding feeling is only one of gratitude for all the experiences that I’ve had & all of the rest waiting for me on the other side of the Atlantic.  It’s a good place to be even before considering the adventure that I’m hours away from embarking on with Miss Ashley Chamberlain.  We’ve plotted & planned an itinerary that includes London, Paris, Krakow & Ukraine, & I couldn’t feel more blessed.  I can’t yet wrap my mind around it & probably won’t until I buckle my seatbelt on the airplane per usual, but I have a feeling that the joy & appreciation will only expand as reality sinks in.  Knowing us it will probably manifest itself in seal-clapping & jumping around like my eight year old campers.  London airport, consider yourself warned.  I guess that’s an unintentionally good connection with the rest of my summer’s theme thus far…which kind of makes me wonder if I ought to try a minute or two of introspection about acting my age.  It will probably have to wait until after my standing daily appointment though…and by that I mean eating an ice cream cone.  Growing up is over-rated.

Here’s a slideshow of the aforementioned camp craziness.  Fingers crossed for another if we manage to stumble upon a Kodak moment or two in Europe.