Two-Part Update

Part I

Hello all. I’m here at the internet again! It’s not that I don’t get online very often (I average almost once a week, if you’ve noticed), it’s just that the time spent there (average 40 min) is so rushed, that I still feel disconnected. I update you all, but don’t get many updates myself! So, if you’re writing to me, keep in mind that I’ve barely seen a headline in almost four months. But it’s nice that, despite being in my second town without an internet café, etc., I still find a way here.

So we’re still on our break – school starts again on Wednesday. But the teachers have gone back to work – and I now have a schedule! More on that later. I’ve spent the break mostly inside my host family’s home, still writing letters, etc., but also spending more time with them watching TV, which, at least during the holiday break, is on in our house from morning til night. I didn’t watch a lot of Ukrainian TV during training, but I’ve gotten more used to it now. They like to find American movies on TV (usually from the mid-90s, but not always), because I can still hear the English under the dubbing. Among the American movies I’ve seen at least some of in the past week, dubbed in Ukrainian: “Practical Magic,” “The Bodyguard,” “Christmas with the Kranks” (who knew that that involved the Peace Corps? . . . maybe those who actually saw it in America), and “National Lampoon Christmas,” since this week was Ukrainian Orthodox Christmas. I hadn’t seen any of them all the way through before (my host family says I’ll see all the American movies here), so it was fun. My host mom and I get very caught up in them, and worried – especially during comedies like the last two where everything possible goes wrong – I had to translate “Oh my God” because I kept saying it.

I had a visitor – Clara, the nearest volunteer to me from Group 31 – and it was just like a playdate, a very “I’m six years old” moment. Her host dad started calling other host families of nearby volunteers, he talked with my host mom, a drop off and pick up was arranged and lunch was made for us . . . very cute, and fun to talk with another American about goings on, but not a typical “post-college adult world” moment. My host dad didn’t know she was coming, and after sleeping late he woke up to hear us laughing and was like, why are there two Virginias? Clara commented on the roads – they’re mostly extremely rocky, bumpy and generally muddy and uneven, and my host mom explained that they tore up the roads two to three years ago for gas heat installation (at least I think so) – so at least there’s a good reason! It was Ukrainian Christmas Eve, so we went to my host dad’s parents’ home for dinner – fish, because of the sort-of-Lent period before Christmas (only observed for that meal, that I saw), and 12 dishes, either for the 12 apostles or 12 months . . not really clear on that. Everyone was discussing my visitor, and my host parents said that Clara (who is blonde) looked more American than I did. I guess I had kind of a blank expression on my face, because they kept trying to justify their statement saying that I looked more European, more like them, maybe because I’m Irish. I was like . . . right. I look totally Eastern European. Honestly, it’s the Volunteers who aren’t white who are supposed to expect those kinds of comments . . . later they added that my “warden” (the Volunteer to whose apartment I go running if there’s a coup), who visited their house during the interview process, also looks more American than I do (also blonde).

Another movie that came on TV, that was very interesting to watch with my host family, was That One Where Robin Williams is Russian. You know? I don’t know the title, but I had seen part of it before – Robin Williams plays a Russian musician who plays for a Moscow circus that visits New York City during Soviet times, and he manages to defect during the thirty minutes they’re allowed in Bloomingdale’s. It was dubbed in Ukrainian, so I was sad they didn’t get to hear Robin William’s efforts at Russian and tell me how good they were, and they had seen it before, but it prompted interesting conversation. My host mom explained that, although this movie is definitely a comedy, that it was based on serious history, and how they couldn’t travel outside of the USSR and were told that outside the curtain (I think that’s the word she used), everything was awful and they didn’t want to be there. Any letters they got from those who did manage to leave were heavily censored, etc. She went and got two money bills she had kept – a “10” from 1961 and a “1000” from 1992. I don’t remember the names of either currency, but in 1961, a 10 in the local currency was a lot of money, a decent portion of one’s monthly salary. But because of the insane amount of inflation after the 1991 independence, a 1000 in Ukrainian money was like nothing – they joked that they’d never expected to be millionaires, but money didn’t amount to anything until it was in the millions. They were also short of most goods, so you’d have to go to the oblast capital to find things, etc. She said that now there were plenty of goods, just less money. I never knew very much about Soviet history before coming here, but you definitely learn some after being here for a little while . . .

My host brother abandoned home for a good three or four days because his aunt, visiting from where she and her husband work in Portugal for New Year’s (working outside of the country and sending money home is a fairly common situation here, especially in bordering countries like Moldova), bought her two daughters a computer. They literally spent days playing on that computer, all three gathered around, and every holiday meal was left early (although kids tend to do that here at big dinners, eat a little and then run off, coming back occasionally to grab more). He came home one morning while I and the cat were trying to catch up on headlines on BBC (the three non-music video English channels are mostly business news, but sometimes not), and didn’t even take off his boots, but called from the door that he needed a CD, which his mom brought him, and then he left again. The extended family is very sweet; I talked to the grandmother and the visiting aunt a lot, and got to see pictures of Portugal. Christmas morning we were served “Portuguese” port wine (the label said something like Murphy’s), and had very good food – the grandmother and aunt are both very good cooks. The grandparents and the two little girls live by the river – the Bok River (sp?) – which is beautiful, and on the other side you can see the hills that I think Bratslav is surrounded by. A nearby building had a lot of canoes stacked outside – apparently you can rent them when the weather is right – there’s another reason to visit me!

Speaking of cooking, the last day before us teachers had to go to work, my host mom asked for me to show her an American recipe (from the PC cookbook). She and my host dad were really excited, we decided on macaroni and cheese, and went shopping and everything. In the end, it got sort of a quiet reception – it turned out how it was supposed to! and I think that most Americans would have been impressed by it’s non-EasyMac-ness, but I think noodle dishes are just not as big here. They said they liked it, and although Roman at first declined to try it (he doesn’t like noodles), he ended up liking it and asked his mom to save the recipe.

So, at school, I’ve been helping prepare a student for the oblast-level Olympiad, and figuring out my schedule, etc. Today we had a “pedagogical meeting” in which different teachers stood and delivered speeches on various problems in their subjects, for about an hour – and I wasn’t the only one looking blank. People were staring, looking down at the table, or whispering to each other – my host mom (math teacher) reapplied lipstick, and my coordinator (who later spoke) spent several minutes trying to catch a tiny spider by her chair. My coordinator and I later went around Bratslav, attempting to get information for PC documents. Her English is very good, but our conversations occasionally remind me of “Who’s on First?”: “Did they have pedagogical meetings in Rokytne?” “I don’t know.” “I mean, when you were in Rokytne.” “Yes, I don’t know.” “I mean, pedagogical meetings.” “I know . . . I don’t know.”

Here’s my schedule: I will teach grades 5 through 11, 18 hours a week, four days a week (got Friday off! To do . . . something) – I know some of you business majors may be jealous right now (or other majors). But I’ll also have three twice-a-month English clubs – theoretically – one for younger kids, one for older, and one for local English teachers. So we’ll see. If you still think that’s pathetically less than 40 hours, then the next time you see a CVS, you should go in and buy a Diet Coke, and laugh at me from America. I literally dream about both (talk about pathetic). The independent housing search has been explained to me, and it’s a process. But the process is going on (I think Gorbachev said that). And I will hopefully end up with an apartment . . .

Part II

So – I wrote that last Wednesday, and I didn’t get to the internet as soon as I thought I was going too, and even more interesting Ukrainian-type things have happened to me since (if that’s the way you describe these things)! So I thought I’d add a Part II to update you even more.

Thursday I went to a meeting about students’ psychology . . . I think. There was discussion about various student problems, and how to deal with them, and I understood a little of it. Later, we visited the post office and I got some replacement hats from home – thank you very much! – for the nice, warm hat-that-I-was-very-attached-to, that I stupidly lost on Christmas Eve. Saw the Liam Neeson (sp?) movie of Les Miserables with my host family, and attempted to explain the original plot to them in Ukrainian (haha, I remembered the Russian word for “prostitute” Annie taught us in high school). In other news, I got a Ukrainian tutor – so maybe I’ll actually learn how to talk good one of these days! and she is very nice. My coordinator and I filled out forms for the PC involving making a map of Bratslav – the streets here don’t actually “have no name,” but it might as well be the case, because most people don’t know them, and there aren’t really a lot of signs. I literally drew things like “the green fence with the dog” . . . hopefully that will be ok.

Friday, I discovered an Irish channel on TV! With a commentator in downtown Dublin, and I saw the bus I used to take!! It has like every American show ever, for some amazing reason. Some good, some bad, saw the Seinfeld about fat-free frozen yoghurt, and then a Dawson’s Creek Thanksgiving episode (so painful, but had to watch because it was English). I don’t want to monopolize the TV, but occasionally (rarely), no one else wants to watch it and I have nothing better to do, so when BBC gets a little repetitive (same headlines every ten minutes), I have another option. One of the things that draws family members away from the TV is the video game I let my host brother install on my laptop – Russian Grand Theft Auto. I’m serious. I sort of thought it was a music CD he wanted to listen to . . . but it turned out to be GTA. Kind of intense. I generally abandon the room when he plays – have never understood video games, sort of the same reaction I have to Japanimation.

On Saturday, I got to go to Vinnytsia, the oblast capitol, to see the other Volunteers in our oblast. It was really fun! Our warden, Eric, and his wife Sandra are amazing cooks – they made us gumbo and cheese grits. In the course of conversation, they mentioned that they actually wrote the PC cookbook that I’m so obsessed with – and another one about Florida food (where they’re both from)!! I bought it (they had extras), it looks amazing (despite the sad reminders that the shellfish I love is far far away from here) – honestly, go look it up if you’re at all interested, it’s called “Florida Bounty: A Celebration of Florida Cuisine and Culture.” I vouch for them.

Another random story those of you from W&M might be interested in hearing: guess who’s in Ukraine? My RA from sophomore year. Again – I’m serious. Many of you may remember the days that I lived in Unit M, in the fraternity complex. I personally find it difficult to forget . . . and about two months ago, we got a list of Volunteers in our region, and I recognized my Russian-speaking former RA, Patrick! Not only in Ukraine, but in my oblast . . . insane. He sort of vaguely recognized me (although I cut off all my hair and switched to glasses). He advised me to get a cat, despite not being a cat person (and yes, the cat here still loves me, and sits in my lap almost whenever I sit down) – he used to be allergic, he explained, but after rubbing it in his face for a month, that passed. Always good to hear from more experienced Volunteers. They were all really nice and entertaining, and at the end of the gathering, Eric and Sandy laid out some random things that they wanted to get rid of before they leave in April, which we could earn by sharing an interesting story about our site. I couldn’t really think of any (hard to compete with seasoned Volunteers), but I did my best and offered two about my coordinator. I got chocolate, and a pig keychain – it’s the Year of the Pig . . . and the Chinese horoscope is a really huge deal here, especially now, other Volunteers explained, because Ukrainians just love pigs.

That’s about it. Everything’s going fairly well here, nervous to start teaching but on the other hand, it’s about time. Miss you all – take care and keep in touch!!

Love, Virginia

P.S. I was afraid there was going to be a Part III, but I guilted my coordinator into taking me to Nimerov, and now I think I know the way myself (turn right at the orange pro-Yushenko graffiti)

P.P.S. If my address comment at the end of the last post was confusing - sorry - I just mean that I don't need a P.O. Box, everyone knows who I am - so the address as it would be without a street number or P.O. Box . . . just look at facebook

Sort of settling (kinda maybe)

Hello again! Maybe I should think of a more creative way to start these entries. Not too much has been happening, because at holiday season it really does seem like everything shuts down. At least it’s not as freezing cold as we were warned that it would be – although who knows what it will be like later on and in February, I may need my ice grips after all. So, because very little has been happening, I thought I’d take this opportunity to tell you some of the theories I’ve come up with to try to explain what being in Ukraine is like . . .

During training, when we first started visiting the local school, and observing classes, and generally being the center of attention whenever we walked through the door, I tried to think about what the equivalent of the situation could be in America – what could cause a similar fuss. I thought of how often I had had native speakers of other languages around in school – but I took Spanish. The closest situation I could think of was if there were suddenly native French speakers wandering around school, since most of the French teachers I knew weren’t natives . . . . not quite the same, but the closest thing I could think of. So every time we walked into school and had every single child who walked by us say “Good Morning!,” and all of the teachers in the teachers’ lounge watched us, and occasionally tried to speak with us, I imagined a parallel universe in which young visitors from France, training to be teachers, were wandering through my high school. Unfortunately, being from America doesn’t really imply the same sophistication as hip, bored girls from France might, but it helped me to understand things just a little more. I imagined eager French students insisting on saying “Bonjour!” every time they saw them (they roll their eyes), and teachers whispering about them in the teachers lounge (they avoid conversation, and go take a cigarette break). Again, not quite the same, but sort of close.

Another theory I thought of, after living with my host family in Rokytne for about two and a half months: as an American visitor in Ukraine, it’s like every day is your birthday, but you’re celebrating with people who’ve never met you and know next to nothing about you. No one quite knows what to do, but they certainly want you to have a good time, and no one wants to put you out. So, you may find yourself in a small, five-passenger sedan in which seven, mostly not-average sized people need to fit – and even though you might be a better choice, size-wise, in terms of being a stackable person, no one would ever think of asking you to surrender or share your seat. You, meanwhile, have no idea what’s going on, where you’re going, or what’s going through these people’s minds, but you know that they’re trying to make sure you’re comfortable.

Every time anyone from home asks me when something will happen, or why something is happening, I try to explain that I never know what’s going on. I’m mostly serious. Sometimes people forget to tell me what’s going on, or they try, but it’s in surzhick and I have no idea what they’re saying. Even when it’s in English, it’s kind of a crapshoot. Last week, we went to Nimerov (no idea how to spell it, it’s the district capitol) to grade Olympiad work after school, and around 6 pm when we were finally leaving, my coordinator and another teacher and I realized that all of the doors of the school we were in were locked. As we went from door to door (past really pretty murals that a lot of schools in this country are covered in, of Ukrainian nature and various cultural scenes), and I kept pulling out my little Maglight flashlight (on every suggested packing list) to show the way, my coordinator said that if we couldn’t find an unlocked door, we would stay there for the night. I said, “Oh!” in an ironic little voice . . . and then a moment later I realized that I didn’t know for sure that she was kidding. You would think that tone of voice would be enough, and that a joke would translate in any language, but it really doesn’t. At least not enough for me, when I’m walking through a dark Ukrainian school at night with apparently no way out. I was thinking about how completely confused I was all of the time, and how I might be spending the night in a classroom, when my coordinator mentioned that she was making a joke. It sounds silly, but you really never know. (Eventually were given a key.)

But I don’t think I’m the only one here who doesn’t know what’s going on. I find it totally bizarre to be the only person in the room who understands the words of the song in the music video on TV, or the song that plays on one of my host family member’s high-tech cell phones every time it rings. (Every day confirms more that Ukraine is satellite TVs, fancy cell phones – but outdoor plumbing and generally unpaved roads.) It doesn’t seem to bother anyone else here very much, and most of the time you would think they could get the general idea from the action in the music video (that their 10-year-old is watching passively . . . no matter what the song is about, or what language it’s in, it seems that every video is about being mostly naked in a club. Or doing other things in a club. And the song is really about reaching your potential, or love or something). Occasionally they ask me if I understand, and are sufficiently impressed that I speak the same language as the singer (unless the singer is Non-British-European and just singing in English because), and never really ask me for a translation. Roman, my host brother, asked once what “Cent” means . . . I explained, but 50 Kopiyuk doesn’t quite sound the same. There’s also English all over clothing, advertisements, etc., etc. My host brother in Rokytne, Slavick, used to wear a shirt that said “Danger!,” and he and his mom laughed really hard when I translated it. Other than that, it doesn’t seem to bother anyone.

So, in terms of Bratslav news, it’s mostly been Olympiad grading and New Year’s celebration. As I said, I spend Christmas Eve in Nimerov watching students take multiple choice and true/false tests, writing essays, and attempting to speak and answer questions in English. Even though they have to pick a random number (from little slips of overturned paper), which corresponds to a subject, for the oral part – it seems like everyone who does well has memorized a statement beforehand. In fact, I had edited one of the oral reports during my site visit here, not realizing it was to be memorized and spoken later. So, I’m pretty sure. Anyhow, last week we went to Nimerov several times to grade the written sections of the exam, the questions and essay topics for which are sent to every district from some sort of central authority. However, they do not send the answer key. So, that was basically my job – to take the tests for each level and then, occasionally, to try to explain to the Ukrainian English teachers why I had gotten a certain answer, and which questions were “tricks.” I’m used to multiple choice, standardized tests, and I’m used to trick questions and answers, but it was still definitely strange to determine how many points a bunch of students, who probably didn’t understand the texts very well, got. I tried to ask why the central-type place didn’t just send the answer key, since whatever various sources they got the texts and questions from would clearly have keys, and my coordinator was saying, oh, they don’t care about making us do work, they don’t want to work themselves. I tried to explain that it wouldn’t even require any work – just sending the already-figured-out key, and when I finally used the word “logical,” she smiled and seemed to understand where I had gotten confused.

The school had New Year’s parties on Thursday, one for younger kids and one for older. I went to watch the party for younger kids – it was in the gym with a 20-ft “New Year’s tree” that it had been my coordinator’s homeroom’s job to decorate. There were a few teachers dressed up as Santa (ok not really, Father Frost, or “Did Moroz”), Father Frost’s pigtailed granddaughter, and a witch. American music was blasting (“I like to move it, move it,” if anyone cares), and all of the kids were dressed up too – it seems that New Year’s here was not only the Soviet replacement for Christmas, but for Halloween and maybe nine other holidays – it’s a big deal. Most of the girls were dressed as princesses, with huge dresses, and curled, crimped and glittery hair, but there were also kids dressed as witches, Santas (again, I know, not really), a Zorro, an Indian, etc. There were various competitions, relay races etc., and then they had a slow-dance marathon which started with one little couple dancing, and then whenever the music stopped, they had to run and pick new partners from the circle of children around them. It was really cute to see the cowboys grab a princess and the princesses grab Zorro, and by the end about everyone was dancing (I was pleased to see that Roman made an effort, and didn’t dance with one hand in his pocket like some boys). Afterwards, there was another bizarre Olympiad moment, when I was helping my coordinator record semester grades in the register (a really huge deal here – you are not allowed to make mistakes in the register. It will be totally rewritten if you so much as cross something out, from what I understand. PC Volunteers are encouraged to never touch it – I was just reading things out loud. Similarly, if an answer is crossed out on the Olympiad, it doesn’t count). An overzealous student came to ask if the Olympiad results were in, and upon hearing that they weren’t, she announced breathlessly that she still remembered her multiple choice answers – they were C, D, B, D . . . on and on. I couldn’t help just staring.

New Year’s Eve was also an experience (how could it not be?) – we went to my coordinator’s house for a big meal at 11 pm. We lit sparklers at midnight, and had champagne (on top of the wine . . .), and there were many toasts, including a toast to my parents for raising me well, and a toast from my host dad about how he sees me as a child and has doubts about whether I can live on my own. So. They turned on VH1 to show me English-speaking TV (satellite strikes again), so I got to watch that reality show about the Playboy mansion bunnies for a while. They were in Vegas. Not sure if I mentioned the Dancing with the Stars remake they had here – but I loved the couple that ended up winning (can’t understand a word the “star” says, but he’s hilarious – Volodymer Zelensky . . . apparently has a cooking show), and they and some other couples danced on TV, and various Ukrainian celebrities danced and sang and toasted. A few times, my host parents and my coordinator and her husband turned off the lights and had a dance party (Roman had gone to bed). There were only six of us, including Roman, and yet we didn’t get back home until quarter to 6 . . . it was intense.

Besides that, I’ve helped my host family make pizza a few times (unfortunately “not the season” for tomato sauce . . . but still good). I’ve spent several days just reading and writing letters – I’m afraid they might think I’m insane . . . but it’s a choice between that and watching the music videos and various movies dubbed in Russian, which I occasionally try to do. By the way, read Barack Obama’s book in about a day and a half – he visited Ukraine!! The cat has decided that she likes me – and will now sleep on my lap or sprawled across my chest, very cute (actually is on my lap now). The two of us watched BBC World yesterday, and learned about how Kyiv real estate prices are so high (up to 10 million for some apartments, or something ridiculous, I think it said), that barely anyone can afford to live there anymore, especially considering how the rest of the country’s economic situation is very very different. Also watched some of Gerald Ford’s funeral.

Well that’s about it. But I thought I’d include a bit about how sometimes pretending to understand what’s going on around me pays off – and I realize what the conversation I’ve been having is about, or at least that the others actually understood what I was trying to say. In Spanish, I would often just add “o” or something similar to an English word to make it work. You can sort of do that in Ukrainian too!! Despite the alphabet’s difference, and the grammatical differences (7 cases, I think), it works. Often I’ll be explaining something with a lot of little words, and then I’ll hear them use one word that I already knew – because it’s almost the same in English. These words tend to be kind of SAT words, or words that no one uses anymore in America, but it’s better than nothing. So here are some words you may already know in Ukrainian (more or less): diaspora, cravat, aperitif, divan, and charlatan. There are other easier words, like djeanz-eh, and chips-eh (basically Canadian). So that’s your lesson in Ukrainian for today.

Hope you’re all doing well! Check facebook for update in my address (am the first person to ask for a P.O. Box here), and keep in touch!!

Love, Virginia

P.S. Yeah, apparently no need for P.O. Box - just my name, Bratslav, and the rest. Literally just my name and the city information. I'm kind of floored.

P.P.S. Here are some pictures, uploaded veeeery slowly on this computer

(in methodology center), from last entry: