Since high school and university time, I’ve been aware what a party pleaser it is to have tarot cards with me and that many people love to have their cards read, whether they believe in them or not. When I went to Russia, during junior year of college, I made the mistake of leaving my cards at home in Denver but luckily managed to find another deck there in St. Petersburg.
This trip I was smart enough to bring one of my decks. I also managed to pick up a new, interesting and bit more complex deck in London. I read a little bit in England, but since I’ve been in Ukraine and the cat got out of the bag that I read tarot, that has been my extracurricular activity (unfortunately I didn’t think enough to charge for it). The twist? Well I have to do it mostly in Russian as two of my most frequent requests for readings come from Kostya, the night security guard (whose day job is history teacher at a local secondary school) and Sergei Ivanovich, the assistant director or financial director or something for the school. (I’m not entirely sure what his job is in fact, I just know that he’s the husband of Katya, definitely the director of the school and that he pays me. I guess that’s all I really need to know, right?) Although Kostya knows English well enough to have some normal, basic conversations, the vocabulary for tarot is something he lacks in English and therefore I resort to Russian to try and explain. Whereas with Kostya it’s more a matter of Russlish, with Sergei Ivanovich (who knows “I go home”) I have to do all the reading in Russian.
As exciting as that sounds it’s actually rather difficult and there was a while when I read the tarot cards for just about every teacher in the school, except for one Julia who is quite religious and believes it is the work of the Devil. (That was a little awkward conversation.) Most other people however have been satisfied with their readings and it definitely is good practice for me as I learn that you don’t necessarily need a specific word as long as you can describe around it and get the point across.
Case in point – I was telling Kostya that he fears oppression or that he was being oppressed… something to that effect. But I didn’t know the word oppressed (угнетать, in case you were wondering the same thing). Well in order to explain the feeling, I said quite innocently the very simple and obvious fact that “the Soviet Union oppressed its people”. Kostya stared at me and asked “Why the Soviet Union?!” I told him that’s what we learned in school in the United States and certainly it must be true as we don’t learn propaganda in the land of the free. He laughed and said, “We learned that the United States oppressed its people!” So there you have it boys and girls… all the world needs in order to understand each other and dispel misinformation and the party line is a little intercultural communication via the Cards. Perhaps that is the route to world peace; except for those who believe I’m going to burn eternally in Hell for associating with the Devil’s work… well, maybe not world peace then.
Friday, July 29, 2005
Thursday, July 28, 2005
Chapter 15 – The Money Pit
For the first two months of my time here I had to deal with a babushka who was only hosting me to get the money. I donÂ’t blame her really, pensioners get very little here and for the inconvenience of letting me occupy her second room, she was able to get enough dough to redo the wallpaper in her kitchen and fix up the bathroom a bit too. However I wasnÂ’t quite so keen on the deal since I was expecting to have a bit more socializing time (to practice my Russian) and also just have a nice environment to come home to. Since that wasnÂ’t the case I decided to move into another flat that my friend was renting while she was away all month at the summer language camp.
This new flat had two rooms and no babushka. It was only on the 4th floor instead of the 10th and had a little balcony. The only major disadvantage (or so I thought at the time) was that the water boiler was a manual gas thing. Meaning every time I wanted hot water, I had to light the boiler myself. Some people informed me that this was a great advantage because as it often happens here in summer time, in buildings with central boilers, the hot water is turned off for a while. Of the ‘minor’ disadvantages, the bathroom reeked of a foul, unidentifiable smell that was easily mitigated (for a while) by running the water down the sink. And the beds were not the usual Soviet style futon, but two actual twin sized beds, which unfortunately sank about one foot in the middle concave-like.
So I adjusted to my new environment, sleeping on the couch in the ‘living room’ because the two beds in the bedroom were disastrous. I learned and became fairly accustomed to the water boiler after accidentally once turning off the water before the gas – the biggest no-no that the landlady insisted I not do. After a while I began to enjoy all the space to myself and invited Sasha (translated as Alex), a student from my school, over to my flat to drink tea and fix my computer. It was alright until the day a strange man knocked on my door and told me something very emphatically in Russian.
“Hslnapoine ankdjo woclknls kj;ioie!!!”
“Что?! (What?!)”
Luckily Sasha was there that day and he was able to translate for me the fact that the strange man was my downstairs neighbor and water from my flat was leaking down into his flat… great… Well what could I do now? Call the middle-woman from the school who deals with the landlady and tell her the problem. That done the landlady came over and we waited for the plumber. I wasn’t allowed to use the water in the kitchen, more specifically the hot water tap in the kitchen, I could still use the cold water tap as that was in a different pipe that wasn’t leaking. So what did I do when I needed to take a shower?! Certainly not take a freezing cold one. I found the biggest pots in the flat, filled them with cold water from the bath tub, put them on the stove and heated them up. Then I put the water back into the bathtub and took a bath. If I had felt like a pioneer woman before with the manual gas boiler, now my transformation was complete with the old-school bath preparation. Luckily I only had to do that once as the next day or a day later the plumber came back and ‘fixed’ the plumbing (for the second time, I might add).
Finally things were okay… for a while. One day I accidentally poured my loose leaf tea leaves down the kitchen sink drain (kitchen sink is also from circa 1952, and therefore more of a large, shallow metal basin than a ‘sink’ as we have in the West). Suddenly then my sink didn’t want to drain anything and instead leaked out another hole, this time I was able to catch the runoff in a bucket before it bothered my neighbor again. Unable to use that sink however, I was forced for the last two weeks of living there to wash my dishes in the sink in the bathroom (the one with the nasty smell, remember?). This time I went to the landlady myself. I found her at her job in a bazaar down the street. Working my way through all the shops and whatnot I was able to find her and tell her the problem (having prepared what I needed to say in Russian beforehand). She promised to come back that week and have it taken care of, but I was already moved out of the place before the problem was corrected.
I lived in the Cold Mountain (Холодно Гора) neighborhood for a total of three months. A day or two after I moved into the money pit flat described above, a student from the school offered me a room in her flat as her roommate had suddenly moved out. I accepted thinking it would be great experience living with someone again, this time younger and having more in common with me. [That experience will be described further in subsequent chapters.] Point is – I had promised to move in with her at the beginning of July and thus only stayed one month in this terrible, water-leaking-foul-smelling-depressing-bed-but-with-two-big-rooms-and-a-balcony flat. Thus ends the story of my pioneering daysÂ…
Look forward to the next adunraveled in Ukraine: Unravled -
Chapter 16 – The fool: Tarot Readings in Russian
Chapter 17 – Trip to the Zoo
Chapter 18 – Staryi Saltov
Chapter 19 – Liberation Day, 23 August
Chapter 20 – Дай Бог Здорова!
Chapter 21 – Ukrainian Woodstock
and much much more!!!.....
This new flat had two rooms and no babushka. It was only on the 4th floor instead of the 10th and had a little balcony. The only major disadvantage (or so I thought at the time) was that the water boiler was a manual gas thing. Meaning every time I wanted hot water, I had to light the boiler myself. Some people informed me that this was a great advantage because as it often happens here in summer time, in buildings with central boilers, the hot water is turned off for a while. Of the ‘minor’ disadvantages, the bathroom reeked of a foul, unidentifiable smell that was easily mitigated (for a while) by running the water down the sink. And the beds were not the usual Soviet style futon, but two actual twin sized beds, which unfortunately sank about one foot in the middle concave-like.
So I adjusted to my new environment, sleeping on the couch in the ‘living room’ because the two beds in the bedroom were disastrous. I learned and became fairly accustomed to the water boiler after accidentally once turning off the water before the gas – the biggest no-no that the landlady insisted I not do. After a while I began to enjoy all the space to myself and invited Sasha (translated as Alex), a student from my school, over to my flat to drink tea and fix my computer. It was alright until the day a strange man knocked on my door and told me something very emphatically in Russian.
“Hslnapoine ankdjo woclknls kj;ioie!!!”
“Что?! (What?!)”
Luckily Sasha was there that day and he was able to translate for me the fact that the strange man was my downstairs neighbor and water from my flat was leaking down into his flat… great… Well what could I do now? Call the middle-woman from the school who deals with the landlady and tell her the problem. That done the landlady came over and we waited for the plumber. I wasn’t allowed to use the water in the kitchen, more specifically the hot water tap in the kitchen, I could still use the cold water tap as that was in a different pipe that wasn’t leaking. So what did I do when I needed to take a shower?! Certainly not take a freezing cold one. I found the biggest pots in the flat, filled them with cold water from the bath tub, put them on the stove and heated them up. Then I put the water back into the bathtub and took a bath. If I had felt like a pioneer woman before with the manual gas boiler, now my transformation was complete with the old-school bath preparation. Luckily I only had to do that once as the next day or a day later the plumber came back and ‘fixed’ the plumbing (for the second time, I might add).
Finally things were okay… for a while. One day I accidentally poured my loose leaf tea leaves down the kitchen sink drain (kitchen sink is also from circa 1952, and therefore more of a large, shallow metal basin than a ‘sink’ as we have in the West). Suddenly then my sink didn’t want to drain anything and instead leaked out another hole, this time I was able to catch the runoff in a bucket before it bothered my neighbor again. Unable to use that sink however, I was forced for the last two weeks of living there to wash my dishes in the sink in the bathroom (the one with the nasty smell, remember?). This time I went to the landlady myself. I found her at her job in a bazaar down the street. Working my way through all the shops and whatnot I was able to find her and tell her the problem (having prepared what I needed to say in Russian beforehand). She promised to come back that week and have it taken care of, but I was already moved out of the place before the problem was corrected.
I lived in the Cold Mountain (Холодно Гора) neighborhood for a total of three months. A day or two after I moved into the money pit flat described above, a student from the school offered me a room in her flat as her roommate had suddenly moved out. I accepted thinking it would be great experience living with someone again, this time younger and having more in common with me. [That experience will be described further in subsequent chapters.] Point is – I had promised to move in with her at the beginning of July and thus only stayed one month in this terrible, water-leaking-foul-smelling-depressing-bed-but-with-two-big-rooms-and-a-balcony flat. Thus ends the story of my pioneering daysÂ…
Look forward to the next adunraveled in Ukraine: Unravled -
Chapter 16 – The fool: Tarot Readings in Russian
Chapter 17 – Trip to the Zoo
Chapter 18 – Staryi Saltov
Chapter 19 – Liberation Day, 23 August
Chapter 20 – Дай Бог Здорова!
Chapter 21 – Ukrainian Woodstock
and much much more!!!.....
Friday, July 22, 2005
Chapter 14 – Company Picnic
One weekend after I returned from my holiday with Darren we had a company picnic in the forest. Same drill as all other picnics in forests, sashlik, salads, etc. However this party, being still on working hours (we believed we were going to have a teacher’s seminar or have some sort of training which never happened) , there was no alcohol except what Ron, the new Canadian native speaker brought for himself.
We so met at work, piled into the hired bus and went to the Alps – the little versions of them here in Kharkov. We found a nice spot and settled in for a lovely day of relaxing. Two of the teachers brought their own little ones and we watched as the little boys ran around and played King of the Forest while the big boys worked on creating the monster fired needed for the BBQ. We played group communication games (all except Ron who would have none of that) and some people played volleyball.
Finally we ate, mingled and talked and then ate some more. Kate, the director, brought out the guitar and we sang a few songs first in English then in Russian. I believe I can say everyone had a great time, even Ron with beer in hand. Then about 5pm I left the picnic early with one of the 20 Julias to go and do some Irish dancing. Very Lord of the Dance. We made our way to the very opposite side of the city. It was my first time but Julia was more advanced. Unfortunately there were a lot of students that day so I didn’t get so much one-on-one time with the teacher but had to try and keep pace with the advanced students and pretend like I knew what I was doing. It was awesome fun! Very, very hard work though and I was sore later that day, though not as sore as I imagined I would be the next day. However I opted out to join them again on Sunday and rather stayed in my new apartment and rested. It was a nice weekend full of activity and good times.
*Note: It may be worth noting that Ron did not last long in his post here. His constant demands to have the school office run like a company back in Canada were fruitless except to precipitate his sacking. He was an interesting man but not suited for the life he chose to try living in Ukraine. I wish him all the best in his future plans to move to Mexico and hope he made it back to Canada safely.
We so met at work, piled into the hired bus and went to the Alps – the little versions of them here in Kharkov. We found a nice spot and settled in for a lovely day of relaxing. Two of the teachers brought their own little ones and we watched as the little boys ran around and played King of the Forest while the big boys worked on creating the monster fired needed for the BBQ. We played group communication games (all except Ron who would have none of that) and some people played volleyball.
Finally we ate, mingled and talked and then ate some more. Kate, the director, brought out the guitar and we sang a few songs first in English then in Russian. I believe I can say everyone had a great time, even Ron with beer in hand. Then about 5pm I left the picnic early with one of the 20 Julias to go and do some Irish dancing. Very Lord of the Dance. We made our way to the very opposite side of the city. It was my first time but Julia was more advanced. Unfortunately there were a lot of students that day so I didn’t get so much one-on-one time with the teacher but had to try and keep pace with the advanced students and pretend like I knew what I was doing. It was awesome fun! Very, very hard work though and I was sore later that day, though not as sore as I imagined I would be the next day. However I opted out to join them again on Sunday and rather stayed in my new apartment and rested. It was a nice weekend full of activity and good times.
*Note: It may be worth noting that Ron did not last long in his post here. His constant demands to have the school office run like a company back in Canada were fruitless except to precipitate his sacking. He was an interesting man but not suited for the life he chose to try living in Ukraine. I wish him all the best in his future plans to move to Mexico and hope he made it back to Canada safely.
Tuesday, July 19, 2005
Chapter 13 – Life Of Traveling Rapscallion: Return Of The Boyfriend
I suppose it is about time I describe the best week spent so far in Ukraine. However I will try to avoid the overabundant details that filled the narrative of the Cornwall weekend so as to not bore my readers with the minor and (often intimate) particulars.
Therefore our story begins when Darren’s Ukrainian Airline plane landed at Kiev Borispol International Airport. He came, he saw, he conquered… No, wait, that was Caesar. Ok… so then Darren came, saw and left. The End.
Sorry, what did you say? You want some more detail than that? Well, I can’t leave you quite so uninformed, perhaps. Then let us begin the story once again from Borispol airport. One detail that may be worthy of note was my intricate journey to meet Darren there. I arrived in Kiev by the early morning express from Kharkov. After finding and paying (mostly) for the rental flat, I made my way to the airport shuttle station with 14 gryvnia in my pocket. Believing that was enough for at least one journey to the airport, imagine my dismay at realizing the price had been raised to 20 gryvnia! As usual I was late arriving to the station and now it looked that I was going to be even later to the airport itself. Making a long story short, I managed to haggle with a cab driver who took me from the shuttle station back to the flat in the center of town, so that I could retrieve my debit card, then drive me to an ATM to withdraw more funds and finally transport me and another young man (a Turkmenistani studying business in Kiev) to Borispol, all this for a little fee of course. Amazingly after all that rigmarole I was just in time to stand by the arrival gates and watch as Daz walked triumphantly, guitar in hand, along the gauntlet of family and friends to find me waiting in anticipation (and slightly out of breath from the harried journey).
Sasha, the ever-so-helpful cabbie, was hovering around waiting for the opportune moment to solicit a return journey to the city center. We agreed, as it was easy though more expense than the shuttle. During the ride back, Sasha was kind enough to give us some advice on where to eat and what to see. This was free of charge! Eventually we returned to the flat and waited there to pay the renter the remaining money owed (as I didn’t have enough when I met her earlier). The flat, (or apartment for the American audience) was just off the main road, (or high street for those of the British English persuasion) and thus right near the heart of night life and all life in Kiev. It was a large place with a real full-size bed (as opposed to the fake, couch-bed weirdness I’ve been used to lately). It also had a large living room, including television and fairly new looking kitchen. All this for only $40 a day! (Rather rich blood for me, considering I only earn a little over 5 times that per month, but it was worth it.)
After relaxing for a little while, catching our breath and saying our “It’s been so long!” “I’m so excited to see you again!”, lovey-dovey nonsense, we prepared ourselves to venture out and find sustenance. We walked along the main street, then turned right, then right again and… right once more. Eventually we found a great little outdoor café with a quaint fountain in the middle, under the Golden Gates monument. We had a delicious meal of sashlik (shish-ka-bob) and vareniki (similar to, but different from ravioli) and beer. We ate, drank and were very merry. As the cute joint closed down for the night we departed and turned one more right to complete the circle and return to our temporary home.
The next day was spent walking around the city. We saw a memorial to the Workers, an impromptu amusement park on top of a lookout point and a forest park on islands in the middle of the river. It was an amazingly hot day and we were gladdened greatly by the cooler temperatures and winds around the river. We dipped our feet into the cleaner areas of the Dnipro River and watched children play and old hefty women sunbathe in their lunch-lady sized bras. It was a lovely day followed by a lovely dinner in another outdoor café in the park where we met with some American girls who were missionaries in another part of Ukraine. We chatted with them then finished our meal and made our way back up the hill and through the woods to grandmother’s house we go… no, wait there were woods but not to granny’s house. Back to the random apartment we were occupying.
If that wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t, the day after Darren and I walked around another part of the city, this time in search of monuments and interesting sights. We found them starting with a funicular that took us up the steep hill to St. Michael’s Cathedral. We walked along, photographing here, stopping to talk there and eventually made our way to St. Sophia’s Cathedral complex. There we took an extra long break to hide from the rain and talk about life and love(s). After a while, when the complex was closing up, we decided it was time to move on to bigger and better things. Or at least different things. So we finally, through some difficulty and inspired map-reading found the highlight of Kiev – Andreiyevski Uzviz (Andrew’s Descent). A strip of winding, cobble-stoned road that is the oldest in Kiev and is the place to be for all things kitschy, souvenirs in other words. We arrived to the Uzviz after sunset and consequently as the stalls were closing up. Sunset was spent actually atop the Uzviz watching the pinkish sun disappear behind the Kiev skyline.
Following the souvenir stands down the quaint old-school road, we accidentally created another circle and found ourselves back at the funicular. We went back to the flat but this time managed to make it to a grocery story to buy some things for breakfast the next day. The following morning we feasted on overcooked oatmeal, made edible with slices of banana and apple and instant coffee – a sacrilege in my book but necessity sometimes. This was our last day in Kiev, that night we were to take the overnight train to Kharkov so we went first to the Uzviz once again for gift shopping and bought only two things – little booklets describing the Orange Revolution in English. Then we walked back to the Golden Gates where we took photos with Yaroslavl the Wise. Still not sure who he was or why he was so wise, but I’m sure I’ll learn before I leave. Here we took it easy for a while and chatted. Then, with time running short we hoofed it to the Cave Monastery where the monks who were buried in natural caves beneath the complex were remarkably preserved and therefore believed to be even more holy. Unfortunately the caves were closed (the same caves that I was shoved into by Kate my previous visit to the capital) and thus we had to content ourselves with pictures of the gigantic, gilded cathedral instead.
Satisfied with our touristiness, we rushed a bit, being late as usual for Darren and myself, to the train station to collect our things (being placed in left luggage earlier in the day) and board our train to my city. The overnight train was interesting, as train rides usually are. It was Darren’s first time in a 3rd class (open compartments) ex-Soviet train. We bought our linen and made our beds (top bunks for us both – great idea putting the two short people on the tallest rack but eh, what can be done? Perhaps using growth hormones would be one option). Anyways the ride was uneventful and we arrived in Kharkov on the morrow of Friday as planned.
I realize now that I’ve broken my promise to shorten as best as possible the traveling tales. It’s actually as succinct as I can make it so bear with me a few more lines. This will be quick, I promise!
Kharkov is the Detroit of Ukraine. Old factories, derelict buildings, spotted with the signs of New Russian riches, it is a city full of tough guys and tougher woman. (This is what I imagine of Detroit at least, not having been there myself.) Point being, that there is nothing particularly outstandingly special about this city besides the fact that I live here now. Therefore all I could show Darren was my everyday life here. Babushka’s place, my work, school, my class even! We returned on Friday to learn that John, the other native speaker from America, had refused to substitute my classes while I was in Kiev and so there was no one to lead the class that night. I checked with Daz to make sure he wouldn’t mind if we went in for a little while and had a bit of lesson. He was all for it and so we went to school and did a little Q&A about British life and times. My students loved it and moreover Darren enjoyed the time spent with average Ukrainain people too. After that he and I enjoyed some delicious pizza at a café around the corner.
Our last full day in Kharkov, we just walked around the heart of the city, Sumskaya street. Took some nice photos of Lenin and fountains and strolled through the central park. The next day Darren was to take the overnight train to Kiev and then get to the airport before 7am to board a plane back home. So again we took it easy and just wandered the city, looking at sights and talking all the while. The last night, just before his train departed, we had pizza again accompanied by too sweet wine and a delectable dessert. It was a perfect end to a perfect week and a rather bittersweet moment as I had to again say goodbye to Darren. Through a haze of drunken taxi haggling we arrived at the train station in plenty of time. We sat outside in front of the fountain for a while, not really speaking (a rarity for us!!) but letting the magic of the moment take effect. Finally it was time. We went to left luggage, retrieved his bags and guitar (which went mostly unplayed during the whole week) and went to the platform.
As he boarded the train and found his cabin, she searched frantically through the open windows to find him again. At last she could make out his form in the fourth window from the entrance. She watched, holding her breath and her tears, as he put away his luggage and settled in. He sat down on the seat and then turned his attention to the window. From there he waved to her and she waved back, smiling as big as she could in order to hide the sadness in her eyes. The music playing from the loud speakers on the platform reminded her of an old black and white movie. For a moment, that’s where she imagined herself to be. Suddenly the train let out noises signaling its departure. Her heart leapt into her throat, as she could barely make out the words he was mouthing to her. The train began to move, so did she. The train was pulling out of the station, taking with it such precious cargo. She was having to say goodbye to him again, this time she was at least assured it would not be their last encounter. Walking down the platform to the exit, keeping him always in sight, the music and night affected her and finally she let the tears flow. The train began to pick up speed and eventually her view of his window was gone. She walked back to the public transport that would take her to her lonesome home. Drying her eyes she recounted the days they’d spent together and cheered by the memories made her way home to a restful sleep.
Therefore our story begins when Darren’s Ukrainian Airline plane landed at Kiev Borispol International Airport. He came, he saw, he conquered… No, wait, that was Caesar. Ok… so then Darren came, saw and left. The End.
Sorry, what did you say? You want some more detail than that? Well, I can’t leave you quite so uninformed, perhaps. Then let us begin the story once again from Borispol airport. One detail that may be worthy of note was my intricate journey to meet Darren there. I arrived in Kiev by the early morning express from Kharkov. After finding and paying (mostly) for the rental flat, I made my way to the airport shuttle station with 14 gryvnia in my pocket. Believing that was enough for at least one journey to the airport, imagine my dismay at realizing the price had been raised to 20 gryvnia! As usual I was late arriving to the station and now it looked that I was going to be even later to the airport itself. Making a long story short, I managed to haggle with a cab driver who took me from the shuttle station back to the flat in the center of town, so that I could retrieve my debit card, then drive me to an ATM to withdraw more funds and finally transport me and another young man (a Turkmenistani studying business in Kiev) to Borispol, all this for a little fee of course. Amazingly after all that rigmarole I was just in time to stand by the arrival gates and watch as Daz walked triumphantly, guitar in hand, along the gauntlet of family and friends to find me waiting in anticipation (and slightly out of breath from the harried journey).
Sasha, the ever-so-helpful cabbie, was hovering around waiting for the opportune moment to solicit a return journey to the city center. We agreed, as it was easy though more expense than the shuttle. During the ride back, Sasha was kind enough to give us some advice on where to eat and what to see. This was free of charge! Eventually we returned to the flat and waited there to pay the renter the remaining money owed (as I didn’t have enough when I met her earlier). The flat, (or apartment for the American audience) was just off the main road, (or high street for those of the British English persuasion) and thus right near the heart of night life and all life in Kiev. It was a large place with a real full-size bed (as opposed to the fake, couch-bed weirdness I’ve been used to lately). It also had a large living room, including television and fairly new looking kitchen. All this for only $40 a day! (Rather rich blood for me, considering I only earn a little over 5 times that per month, but it was worth it.)
After relaxing for a little while, catching our breath and saying our “It’s been so long!” “I’m so excited to see you again!”, lovey-dovey nonsense, we prepared ourselves to venture out and find sustenance. We walked along the main street, then turned right, then right again and… right once more. Eventually we found a great little outdoor café with a quaint fountain in the middle, under the Golden Gates monument. We had a delicious meal of sashlik (shish-ka-bob) and vareniki (similar to, but different from ravioli) and beer. We ate, drank and were very merry. As the cute joint closed down for the night we departed and turned one more right to complete the circle and return to our temporary home.
The next day was spent walking around the city. We saw a memorial to the Workers, an impromptu amusement park on top of a lookout point and a forest park on islands in the middle of the river. It was an amazingly hot day and we were gladdened greatly by the cooler temperatures and winds around the river. We dipped our feet into the cleaner areas of the Dnipro River and watched children play and old hefty women sunbathe in their lunch-lady sized bras. It was a lovely day followed by a lovely dinner in another outdoor café in the park where we met with some American girls who were missionaries in another part of Ukraine. We chatted with them then finished our meal and made our way back up the hill and through the woods to grandmother’s house we go… no, wait there were woods but not to granny’s house. Back to the random apartment we were occupying.
If that wasn’t enough, and it wasn’t, the day after Darren and I walked around another part of the city, this time in search of monuments and interesting sights. We found them starting with a funicular that took us up the steep hill to St. Michael’s Cathedral. We walked along, photographing here, stopping to talk there and eventually made our way to St. Sophia’s Cathedral complex. There we took an extra long break to hide from the rain and talk about life and love(s). After a while, when the complex was closing up, we decided it was time to move on to bigger and better things. Or at least different things. So we finally, through some difficulty and inspired map-reading found the highlight of Kiev – Andreiyevski Uzviz (Andrew’s Descent). A strip of winding, cobble-stoned road that is the oldest in Kiev and is the place to be for all things kitschy, souvenirs in other words. We arrived to the Uzviz after sunset and consequently as the stalls were closing up. Sunset was spent actually atop the Uzviz watching the pinkish sun disappear behind the Kiev skyline.
Following the souvenir stands down the quaint old-school road, we accidentally created another circle and found ourselves back at the funicular. We went back to the flat but this time managed to make it to a grocery story to buy some things for breakfast the next day. The following morning we feasted on overcooked oatmeal, made edible with slices of banana and apple and instant coffee – a sacrilege in my book but necessity sometimes. This was our last day in Kiev, that night we were to take the overnight train to Kharkov so we went first to the Uzviz once again for gift shopping and bought only two things – little booklets describing the Orange Revolution in English. Then we walked back to the Golden Gates where we took photos with Yaroslavl the Wise. Still not sure who he was or why he was so wise, but I’m sure I’ll learn before I leave. Here we took it easy for a while and chatted. Then, with time running short we hoofed it to the Cave Monastery where the monks who were buried in natural caves beneath the complex were remarkably preserved and therefore believed to be even more holy. Unfortunately the caves were closed (the same caves that I was shoved into by Kate my previous visit to the capital) and thus we had to content ourselves with pictures of the gigantic, gilded cathedral instead.
Satisfied with our touristiness, we rushed a bit, being late as usual for Darren and myself, to the train station to collect our things (being placed in left luggage earlier in the day) and board our train to my city. The overnight train was interesting, as train rides usually are. It was Darren’s first time in a 3rd class (open compartments) ex-Soviet train. We bought our linen and made our beds (top bunks for us both – great idea putting the two short people on the tallest rack but eh, what can be done? Perhaps using growth hormones would be one option). Anyways the ride was uneventful and we arrived in Kharkov on the morrow of Friday as planned.
I realize now that I’ve broken my promise to shorten as best as possible the traveling tales. It’s actually as succinct as I can make it so bear with me a few more lines. This will be quick, I promise!
Kharkov is the Detroit of Ukraine. Old factories, derelict buildings, spotted with the signs of New Russian riches, it is a city full of tough guys and tougher woman. (This is what I imagine of Detroit at least, not having been there myself.) Point being, that there is nothing particularly outstandingly special about this city besides the fact that I live here now. Therefore all I could show Darren was my everyday life here. Babushka’s place, my work, school, my class even! We returned on Friday to learn that John, the other native speaker from America, had refused to substitute my classes while I was in Kiev and so there was no one to lead the class that night. I checked with Daz to make sure he wouldn’t mind if we went in for a little while and had a bit of lesson. He was all for it and so we went to school and did a little Q&A about British life and times. My students loved it and moreover Darren enjoyed the time spent with average Ukrainain people too. After that he and I enjoyed some delicious pizza at a café around the corner.
Our last full day in Kharkov, we just walked around the heart of the city, Sumskaya street. Took some nice photos of Lenin and fountains and strolled through the central park. The next day Darren was to take the overnight train to Kiev and then get to the airport before 7am to board a plane back home. So again we took it easy and just wandered the city, looking at sights and talking all the while. The last night, just before his train departed, we had pizza again accompanied by too sweet wine and a delectable dessert. It was a perfect end to a perfect week and a rather bittersweet moment as I had to again say goodbye to Darren. Through a haze of drunken taxi haggling we arrived at the train station in plenty of time. We sat outside in front of the fountain for a while, not really speaking (a rarity for us!!) but letting the magic of the moment take effect. Finally it was time. We went to left luggage, retrieved his bags and guitar (which went mostly unplayed during the whole week) and went to the platform.
As he boarded the train and found his cabin, she searched frantically through the open windows to find him again. At last she could make out his form in the fourth window from the entrance. She watched, holding her breath and her tears, as he put away his luggage and settled in. He sat down on the seat and then turned his attention to the window. From there he waved to her and she waved back, smiling as big as she could in order to hide the sadness in her eyes. The music playing from the loud speakers on the platform reminded her of an old black and white movie. For a moment, that’s where she imagined herself to be. Suddenly the train let out noises signaling its departure. Her heart leapt into her throat, as she could barely make out the words he was mouthing to her. The train began to move, so did she. The train was pulling out of the station, taking with it such precious cargo. She was having to say goodbye to him again, this time she was at least assured it would not be their last encounter. Walking down the platform to the exit, keeping him always in sight, the music and night affected her and finally she let the tears flow. The train began to pick up speed and eventually her view of his window was gone. She walked back to the public transport that would take her to her lonesome home. Drying her eyes she recounted the days they’d spent together and cheered by the memories made her way home to a restful sleep.
Monday, July 04, 2005
Chapter 12 - Dasha at the Dacha
Anya (school secretary) invited me to her dacha (summer home, used for vacationing and private gardens). It was really no more than a shack but it was fun. Saturday night we made shashlik over a bon-fire (the usual drill by now). Serezha and Pasha (Anya’s husband and his friend) started drinking vodka and managed to finish off ¾ of a 2-litre bottle. Impressive. Anya and I drank one bottle of red wine. Then we sat around the fire and told anecdotes. One of the favorite things to do for Russians and Ukrainians. After that we all went to sleep in the same room (different beds).
Next day - Sunday - we got up about 10:30 and made breakfast of eggs and sausage and tea. While we were enjoying priyaniki (sort of tea cakes) Anya’s father came. He’s quite nice, very funny (from what I could understand, which wasn’t much) and obviously a loving and good father. I can see how Anya takes after him. Then after cleaning up and changing clothes, we went to the nearby pond, where Serezha and Pasha (in Speedos no less!) went for a swim while Anya and I watched and sun-bathed a bit. It was a perfect day! Relaxed, gorgeous weather, good company and generally a lot of fun!
After chilling by the pond for a while, we returned home, a.k.a. shack. Then I went with the boys to fetch water from the spring. An interesting experience indeed! After that Anya and I (with Pasha’s help) prepared a traditional Cossack dinner - couscous with carrots, potatoes, and onions. And Anya made a salad of cucumbers, cabbage and tomato with the ever present dill. It was delicious! For the second course we had of course tea, this time made in the samovar - traditional Slavic tea pot. We finished tea and priyaniki and other cookies Anya’s father brought, then collected our stuff and headed back to the city. They dropped us off (Pasha and me) at University metro station. Pasha went home and I went to the internet café. After writing a few emails and blogging a bit I went home, packed and got ready for my trip to Kiev. Went to sleep at about 1am, generally contented with a wonderful start to the holiday and nervous about the next day, about getting to the train station on time, finding the flat in Kiev, finding the bus to take me to the airport, etc., etc. But that is a story for another time… look forward to next week - LOTR: ROTB.
Next day - Sunday - we got up about 10:30 and made breakfast of eggs and sausage and tea. While we were enjoying priyaniki (sort of tea cakes) Anya’s father came. He’s quite nice, very funny (from what I could understand, which wasn’t much) and obviously a loving and good father. I can see how Anya takes after him. Then after cleaning up and changing clothes, we went to the nearby pond, where Serezha and Pasha (in Speedos no less!) went for a swim while Anya and I watched and sun-bathed a bit. It was a perfect day! Relaxed, gorgeous weather, good company and generally a lot of fun!
After chilling by the pond for a while, we returned home, a.k.a. shack. Then I went with the boys to fetch water from the spring. An interesting experience indeed! After that Anya and I (with Pasha’s help) prepared a traditional Cossack dinner - couscous with carrots, potatoes, and onions. And Anya made a salad of cucumbers, cabbage and tomato with the ever present dill. It was delicious! For the second course we had of course tea, this time made in the samovar - traditional Slavic tea pot. We finished tea and priyaniki and other cookies Anya’s father brought, then collected our stuff and headed back to the city. They dropped us off (Pasha and me) at University metro station. Pasha went home and I went to the internet café. After writing a few emails and blogging a bit I went home, packed and got ready for my trip to Kiev. Went to sleep at about 1am, generally contented with a wonderful start to the holiday and nervous about the next day, about getting to the train station on time, finding the flat in Kiev, finding the bus to take me to the airport, etc., etc. But that is a story for another time… look forward to next week - LOTR: ROTB.
Friday, July 01, 2005
Dark Day
We interrupt this narrative to inform our readers that a good friend, Carrie Anne (so nicknamed by the author), was killed in a car accident a few days ago in Colorado. We are praying for the recovery of her sister, Emily, as she is still in the hospital with injuries.
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