i only have 45 minutes till my flight to singapore by way of dubai begins to board so this won’t be very long…not to mention, my brain is kind of spent and on top of that an airport gate with wild children isn’t the most conducive writing environment.  anyways, past few days have been emotionally exhausting, full of even more good-byes, final signatures on peace corps paper work, and last of the last hurrahs. in so many ways it hasn’t hit me yet, nothing really feels different yet. maybe once i get all new underwear and socks i’ll feel like a new person…

yesterday marked my final day as a peace corps volunteer. i finished all my paperwork, had my final exiting interview, and rang the ceremonial “close of service bell”. things have officially come to an end — my service officially completed. I DID IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i’ve gone from PCV to RPCV (returned peace corps volunteer)…even though i’ve yet to actually return.

i’ll take the long way home by travelling around south east asia for a month. i’m pretty sure my brain is on cruise because it hasn’t really realized that i’m going to be in singapore with my brother (who lives there) within the next 24 hours. crazy!!! i’d better get ready to get my sweat on. while singapore will be my base camp, i’ll take a solo trip to malaysia and then my brother and i will travel to taiwan and thailand and then travel home to america on june 17th. WOO WOO!

i hope to blog a little throughout that time, though i’ve told myself i can’t let it take away from actually being there. so, we’ll see what i can manage. but knowing me and how much i enjoy writing, i’ll most likely still be posting. okay, time to get ready to board my plane and leave ukraine…one-way ticket. weirdweirdweirdweird. this is really done. things are really over…

so here’s to the end of my service, to my time in ukraine, the end of a chapter, to the wonderful friends i’ve made, to future travels and new things. here’s to one for the road, the beginning of my long journey home – на коня!

before i came to ukraine i remember youtubing videos uploaded by peace corps volunteers and wondered what it all would be like. there was one video from a volunteer (from somewhere in south america i think) recording the final drive away from his site. it was only a minute or so long, there wasn’t even any audio besides the sound of wind rushing and only scenes of green blurring past. i’m not sure why it stuck with me so, i guess because i wondered how that guy felt, what he must have been thinking as he left his home for the past two years. i mean, i was emotional when i moved out and drove away of my last college apartment! it will be difficult to say good-bye.

i got a lot of work done yesterday, more cleaning and packing. i fed some food scraps to the chickens once more, had to strategically corral some wandering turkeys back into their pen, took my last bucket bath (WAHOOO!!), and did about 5 loads of laundry by hand. when i described my day to my mom she said “sounds like little house on the prairie!”. and it is. well…minus me blogging later that day, but i’m just a modernized laura ingalls wilder.

i will really miss village life in some ways — the quiet, the simplicity. at this time in my life, i’m definitely ready to be around people my age and be able to leave the house at night to go somewhere or do something, but maybe someday i can implement certain parts of my village back into my life. i don’t think this would include bucket bathing, but certainly growing some of my own food, canning and preserving, and disconnecting from the world time-to-time.

admittedly, i’m slightly afraid to go back to america and its fast pace of life. i’m sure in no time i’ll be longing for simpler not-everyone-is-on-their-smartphone times of my village i’ve come to love. but not everyone in america is like that, so i don’t have to be either. i’ll just have to find the people that aren’t and make friends with them…maybe some neighborhood babushkas or maybe i should just become amish. ; )

a few months ago i started a running list of things i will miss about ukraine and village life. of course there are things i won’t miss, but i didn’t need to write those down. they were just little things that i worried i’d forget about. i don’t know that i’ll share the list yet, maybe once i get back and figure out what i actually miss. but i did want to write a poem, an ode to village life and to my hobbit house– to a place that has really started to feel like home. a place that i’ll be saying good-bye to today.

good-bye village life
(inspired from margret wise brown’s goodnight moon)

in a village of ukraine
there was a hobbit house
and a dog on a chain
and a picture of
a lady gazing in vain

there were millions of stars and roads with few cars 
and a flock of hens and pigs in their pens
and a little wooden doors and oddly carpeted floors

and backyard beets and homegrown meats
and a babushkas that cried “eat!”

good-bye house good-bye house
good-bye picture of a lady with her big titties out

good-bye backyard beets and homegrown meats
good-bye flock of hens and pigs in their pens

good-bye millions of stars and good-bye roads with few cars

good-bye wooden doors and good-bye oddly carpeted floors

good-bye scent of swine and good-bye domashnee wine

good-bye bucket bathing and good-bye cats of the night a wailing

good-bye to the dog on a chain

and good-bye to the babushkas that cried “eat!”

good-bye quiet, good-bye lovcavore diet

good-bye greenhouse and good-bye occasional mouse

good-bye to village life and my homey hobbit house

interesting art choices

laundry and shower bucket // washing sheets is the worst

one of these doors is not like the other // hobbit sized door

flocks of hens

pigs in a pen

and a dog on a chain

wednesday marked my last day of school. ever. well, not ever because i’m going to graduate school in the fall (woo!), but ever for me teaching in ukraine. my 2 years of service as a TEFL teacher is really coming to an end. people have asked me “soooooo, how does it feel?” and i usually give them a mixture of emotions. believe me — there were many a days when i could. not. wait. to be done teaching, i think every teacher feels that way at some point, but i knew saying good-bye to my students would be difficult, i love those kids! the smiles on their faces, hugs in the hallway, and over-eager “hellow!”s were really what reminded me to keep going.

teaching in ukraine was…challengling (to put it lightly). when i look back on just how much i was able to deal with (i have some real classroom horror stories) and how much i was able to adapt, i can’t help but feel proud. i did it! though, i didn’t always know that i could.

last summer, not long after my site transfer to my current village i struggling to integrate all over again. i was having doubts that i wanted to continue, starting over wasn’t easy, and i just wasn’t sure it was worth it. i struggled with questions of “am i actually doing something here?” “is it really noble to just finish just to finish?” “when do i put myself and my happiness first?”. you know, easy questions. these questions floated around my head that summer and on my visit home to america in july i was legitimately close to not coming back.

i talked it through with my family and friends, they all worried about me and my happiness, but in the end i got on that plane, determined that leaving now would only be something i’d regret later. i was already on pretty shaky ground once i came back to ukraine so when my boyfriend in america broke-up with me,  i was a mess. i felt like my limits were reached and i knew i couldn’t manage everything living alone in ukraine — or so i thought. i contemplated for days if i went home and what i would do. i sat in my favorite park in kyiv thinking and pouring over any peace corps handbook i could about mid-service crisis and early termination (of service, not pregnancy).

i’m not even really sure what changed my mind exactly, i think some of the conversations i had with my mom in america popped-up in my head again — conversations on commitment and the pride i’ll have when i can say that i’ve completed all of my service. that summer she never once said for me to come home. at the time that was all i wanted her to say, but she didn’t, and i couldn’t be more thankful.

that summer was the most unpleasant, challenging, lowest moment of my service here. i wanted to give up almost everyday. with 9 more months left to go i had to actually write a note of encouragement on my fridge that said “going home is NOT an option! you’re almost there!”. so cheesy i know, but i looked at it everyday and pep-talked myself into believing that i could, taking things only one day at a time.

for the past few days i’ve been busy packing and getting ready to leave my village for good — strange to think. when it came time for me to clean off my fridge i couldn’t help but think of where i was in my life when i wrote that message. my heart aches for the version of myself back then. but i think i knew then that it would all be worth it in the end, even if i had to convince myself every day.

and here i am, i stayed. and on my last day of school the feelings of pride, accomplishment, and fulfillment were, albiet not a great as what i thought one would feel before i coming to ukraine, but still great none the less. to this day i occasionally wonder if what i did was actually important or if i did enough, but i know i’m not the only volunteer that feels this way.

i’m thankful to myself for staying. in deciding to finish my service i formed even closer invaluable friendships with other volunteers here, really grew to love my second site placement — my village, my host family, my school, my hobbit house, my new site mate. it is unfortunate that my whole service couldn’t have been here from the start, and i feel somewhat guilty for only living here for 14 months vs. 24 months, but i’ve learned so much about myself as a person going overcoming the challenges i faced in my service here. it’s been a long 26 months, it’s time to go home.

on my last day of school i donned my souvenir purchases (traditional ukrainian outfit of a vyshyvanka and floral head piece) to leave a good last impression. my school gave me a farewell speech at the linequa (announcement line-up), a few souvenirs, my fifth formers filled my arms with lilacs from home, and many a photo sessias were had.

the day didn’t really seem real, even though i was dressed so un-american-like. i didn’t really get a chance to say good-bye to most of the teachers, one english teacher left without a farewell, and a lot of my students were absent. honestly, more fan fair was made when my parents came to visit, there was no good-bye concert or teacher-made varenyky, but that’s okay, i probably would have been balling my eyes out if the kids started singing to me anyways. i was thankful i brought tea and baked my mom’s poppy seed bread and peanut butter cookies to share with the foreign language teachers after school, it gave us a chance to sit and talk one last time. it was a rather quiet celebration, a somewhat nonchalant good-bye, which i guess was probably for the best.

i don’t think it has sunk-in that i’m really done teaching, that this would be the last time i’d see these kids and step into the classroom. it’s a weird feeling — while my official close of service date is the 16th, i’m basically done. the service i’d dreamed about for years has basically come to an end. it gives me a lot to think about, a lot to process, a lot of emotions to sort out…not to mention a lot of stuff get rid of before moving-out!

my sweet 5th formers

with the school director (left of me) and foreign language teachers

treats n tea

photo sessia

good-bye school!

since early april i’ve been saying good-bye to fellow volunteers, host family, co-workers, shop owners, school, students, etc…it’s been like ripping a band-aid off ever so slowly. it’s been awful. not that the good-byes are awful, but no one wants to them to drag on and on and on. i’m looking forward to being done with this phase. but i did have one more good-bye to give to the post-office ladies. i didn’t want to leave without letting them know i’d gone home and not just disappeared. peace corps told us of a story in which villagers contacted peace corps asking where the american had gone because they didn’t say good-bye. ha!

so i took a break from semi-productivity and headed out with my camera to the post-office and then the city to print some photos for gifts. i was kind of bummin the past few days because i’ve basically finished everything and now i’m just doing nothing but waiting to leave. it was hard to say good-bye to my students and things felt kind of unfinished in a way — though are any good-byes ever really? but the break i took from packing turned out to be just what i needed.

as i walked to the post-office i went my normal route hoping to capture a few sneaky photos of decorative front yard gates i enjoy passing on a daily basis. my camera was out and ready to go when i heard my name and three of my favorite 5th formers came running towards me. “miss kristen!! miss kristen!!” they shouted with glee as the ran to me full force with open arms and enveloped me with hugs. i felt so loved! i was so glad i captured the moment of them running towards me, smiles on their faces. they linked arms with me and directed me to a bake sale table they’d set-up infront of their house. it was the cutest thing. i chatted a little with their mothers who were supervising and bought a few muffins from the girls. they were all smiles to have seen me one more time. i’ll miss those sweet kids so much, but i think seeing them one last time, leaving me with that memory of them running to greet me, was just what i needed, and just how i want to remember it.

i continued my walk to the post-office with such a smile, a little more closure and peace of mind. at the tiny post office i mailed my last letter home and said good-bye and thanks to the post ladies who were always so kind to me. i bought my favorite ice cream bar one last time (vanilla ice cream with poppy seeds and a white chocolate shell with sesame seeds, yum!) and waited for the bus to head into the city. when i sat down at the bus stop a man sitting there began to talk with me, or really, talk at me. he first thought i was german, but when i told him i was american he had much to say — about our educational system, drugs, crime, flowers, cars…he was a mr. chatty cathy. i think i said maybe a total of twenty words to him but when the bus came he gave me a handful of chocolates he pulled out from his bag and told me to eat them to my health.

once in the city i headed to the photo store for some prints. i’m now on a name-based terms with the (rather attractive) young man that works there. as i was telling him which prints i wanted he looked at me, pulled a mirror out from behind the counter and said, ‘you’ve…you’ve got something on your lips”…sure enough i had some left over ice cream hangin around. can’t take me anywhere!! i’m pretty sure i blushed majorly, but at least, unlike my bus stop friend, he was kind enough to tell me.

i had some time to kill while the rest of my photos were being printed so with my camera i headed to the bazaar. i’ve only taken a few photos of the bazaar but there were more shots i wanted to get. normally, i don’t have the balls to take them, but since i’m leaving, i don’t really care if they think i’m weird. i still had to explain myself most of the time — no, i dont’ work for the newspaper, no i’m not a spy, no i’m not a professional, this is just for my personal hobby. people here are very very suspicious of strange looking people taking photos, but i would be too. i’ve gotten some angry comments while taking photos, but i’ve found if you explain yourself and ask with a smile and a compliment, they’ll oblige. so now you can enjoy some bazaar photos — courtesy of me growing a pair.

since the day was just so nice out (it’s been cloudless and in the upper 70s-mid 80s since…since winter ended basically. it’s lovely.) i decided to walk back to my village from the city. it’s about 2.25 miles or so but i really didn’t have anything else to do (besides things i didn’t want to do). i walked slowly and took in the scenery. on the way i was offered ice cream by some young men. when i replied no thanks they rebutted with “but you’re lips are so red today!”…not sure how that makes an argument for eating ice cream but it make me laugh. oh, how everyone is in such a better mood when it’s not winter!

’twas lovely last saturday in ukraine.

one (of the few) paved roads in the village. kids love to skateboard here.

new graffiti in the village — i like it!

5th formers running to greet me

their bake sale table — too too cute

such loving students, i’ll miss them!

a house selling lettuce

ukrainian flag near the village post office (the colors represent blue skies over wheat fields)

bazaar in melitopol

this man was friendly (and also thought i was kind of weird)

wearing a cabbage hat to promote eco-friendly clothing

green

the meat house — these ladies were funny.

a hopeful stray waiting outside the meat house

labyrinth of clothes

one of the village bus stops

on the walk home

]]> http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/05/12/may-eleventh/feed/ 4 condimentlove n DSC_0005 DSC_0015 DSC_0016 DSC_0018 DSC_0022 DSC_0031 DSC_0051 DSC_0035 DSC_0036 DSC_0039 DSC_0046 DSC_0042 DSC_0050 DSC_0054 DSC_0062 http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/05/10/salat-vinaigrette-version-2-0/ http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/05/10/salat-vinaigrette-version-2-0/#comments Fri, 10 May 2013 09:28:58 +0000 condimentlove http://borschtandbabushkas.com/?p=4230 Continue reading →]]>
some of you might be thinking…”hey! you’ve already posted this recipe!” and yes, this is true, you got me. i posted it more than a year ago…BUT over the past year i’ve come to some sort of salat vinaigrette revelation. it’s by far my favorite salad in ukraine (favorite because it’s the one that doesn’t have mayonnaise). i’ve eaten so much of it i’ve become, as some might say, a sommelier of salat vinaigrette — and by some say i mean just me. my original version of this recipe is fine, great even, for those who don’t have much vinaigrette experience, but as it turns out, i think i’ve been making mediocre salat this whole time! *gasp!*

maybe it’s because i’m american or because i hesitate every time i add oil and salt. or maybe because i didn’t get the secret from my host mom until now, but ukraine decided it was time for a mediocre salad intervention. this came in the form of my salat vinaigrette going mostly untouched by ukrainians at a dinner party later followed with words of salat advise from my host mom. on my last visit to my training host family my host mom natasha and i made salat vinaigrette together. i looked at her inquisitively when she tossed in some sugar to the salad. told me so sternly, knife in-hand as she poked the air with each staccatoed word, “look — kristen, you must understand, beets. love. sweet.”  it felt as if were were talking about something much more serious than salad — but then again, she takes her salad making pretty seriously.

while it was the first time i’d heard of sugar in this salad, i searched the internet for any other sugary suggestions, but this must just be a mama natasha thing. it seemed odd, but really the whole sweet n beet thing wasn’t new to me. when cooked grated beets are cooked in a frying pan they caramelize and leave a wonderful slightly sugary crust. but prior to ukraine i don’t know that i’d ever even eaten a beet (gasp!). i love veggies but, uh, no one eats them in america. okay, i’m sure some people do, but really for the most part, it’s not a staple of our diets. which is a pity because i’ve come to LOVE beets. they’re so cheap and nutritious i throw them into everything! salad, soup, beet rostie, brownies, coffee. okay, just kidding on that last one.

so thanks to my host mom, my beet and salat vinaigrette education has become even more fine tuned and i’m confident that the next time i make this salad, ukrainians will most definitely approve.

salat vinaigrette // салат винегрет

8 servings

3 medium beets, whole and unpeeled
2 medium carrots, whole and unpeeled
3 medium potatos, whole and unpeeled
2 large dill pickles
1 medium onion
1 small can green peas, rinsed, and drained
2 – 2 1/2 tablespoons sunflower oil (canola oil)
1 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon sugar
1/2 – 1 teaspoon black pepper
handful of chopped parsley

1.) in the evening, in a large pot of water boil beet (for 20 minutes), carrot and potato (for 10 minutes). turn off heat, cover the pot, and leave vegetables to soak till morning. leaving to soak overnight is essential!

2.) in the morning, peel and cube beet*, carrot and potato into fairly small pieces.

3.) chop pickle and onion, and combine with the root vegetables in a large bowl.

4.) add peas/beans, oil, salt, sugar, pepper, parsley. mix thoroughly.

5.) best served room temperature and store in fridge.

*be sure to wear an apron when cooking with beets!

yields: 8 servings

with may comes my last month in ukraine and holidays — lots of them! i looked at my calendar and realized that 3 holidays in two weeks on-top of going away parties means that i’m basically partying every day (and possibly drunk packing) for the remainder of my time in ukraine. not a bad way to leave, i might say.

yesterday we celebrated cinco de paska, i mean, paska. this year paska, ukrainian orthodox easter, just happened to fall on cinco de mayo. while ukrainians don’t celebrate cinco de mayo (tragedy!), they celebrate paska in a similar fashion — drinking, dancing, and all around “good time having”. and with the number of mayonnaise based salads that graced every ukrainian family’s easter dinner table the holiday might as well have been called cinco de mayonnaise.

one might say that orthodox easter begins with the first signs of paska — small loafs of easter bread topped with a thin layer of white icing and colorful sprinkles. i was planning on trying my hand at baking some myself, but since the recipe calls for 15 eggs (and that’s no typo) to make 4 loafs and basically half a day in the kitchen, i decided not to. i’ll probably bake it next year in america but while i can simply buy some paska at any and every store, i’ll submit to laziness. plus i don’t even really like it (shhh, don’t tell!)

i didn’t go to church to get my easter basket of decorated eggs, wine, and paska, blessed this year. i went to an easter service my first year in ukraine with my host mother. the service lasted 5 hours…all standing. so needless to say, i went to church long enough for the rest of my service. this year’s easter was a bit more fun than standing in an incense-filled room till the sun came up.

lucky for me i live only 45 minutes or so away from the sea of azov where my landlords recently bought a beach home and planned to celebrate paska — beach bum style. come easter day, eight of us (myself and sarah included) piled into my landlord’s van and headed towards the water. when we pulled up to their new beach house i couldn’t help but think it was some magical seaside castle. there were eight rooms or and an outdoor kitchen (they’re in the process of fixing it up so they can rent out the rooms). soon after we arrived shashlyk (barbeque) was in the making along with a variety of mayo salads.

the only moment i remembered it was in fact a religious holiday happened right before lunch when we all had to eat a piece of paska and a hard boiled egg. but other than that and a few “christos voskress” (christ has risen), it honestly felt more like cinco de mayo on some spring break beach front…not that there were any wet t-shirt contests or highlighter parties, but the beach was littered with flirty young people with beers in-hand shashlyking. it was pretty entertaining to watch them as i dried off in the sun. while tamer than american spring breakers, they still had the same booze induced idea to wrestle each other near open fire or throw their ladies in the water. shockingly, it made me miss hanging out with people my age.

but ukrainians at any age are still pretty damn fun people. they’re down to party, kill vodka bottle after bottle, and stay up WAY past their bedtime dancing the night away. i love that about them, that they know how to have a good time. anywhere. anytime. there’s no “turn 40 and boring” here. i feel like it’s that way in america, like once you reach a certain age you just become “un-fun”.  not that “fun” has to mean drinking, but just to get un-hinged and live one night with more dirty jokes and less inhibitions (i guess most people would need booze for that). this kind of family partying is completely new to me. whenever i make comments about how fun their holidays gatherings are, and how different it is back home, sarah can’t really agree  since she’s irish. maybe it’s because i was raised protestant and protestants have a history of being pretty prude. i’ll just have to marry into an irish, greek, italian, mexican, ukrainian…basically anything but protestant, family. ; )

after beach bumming and some fishing, we all went back to the house to eat and drink some more. we finished the booze supply rather early on, and the beach front store actually sold out of vodka (unheard of!), but that didn’t stop us from having a good time. at some point during our paska celebration my ukrainian friends told me that i’m the first american they’ve hosted that understands the language well enough to get their humor, and actually make jokes right back at them. they told me “kristinaaaaa, you’re one of us! you’re an ukrainka!”. a language skills compliment AND a cultural understanding compliment in one?!  it was the best possible compliment i could have received.  it was as if ukraine was saying “okay, you’ve passed the test. you can go home now”.

as the night went on sarah (against her will) and i (not against my will) ended up singing the american national anthem on top of the balcony to an audience of lighter waving ukrainians below. as we stood there, a flashlight as our spotlight, disrupting the quiet of the night, i watched my ukrainian friends below swaying and cheering us on, and thought — i’m going to miss this. i’m going to miss them.

it was the last time all of my ukrainian friends and site mate would be together before i left. i’m not sure i’ll have an actual going away party with them but this was perfect enough, this is how i want to remember things — even if things are a little fuzzy from the homemade wine. they made me promise to keep in touch and when i find a boyfriend (that’s been their #1 most important mission all along), that i have to send them a photo or skype with said new boyfriend and they’ll either tell me “yes” or “no”. so now any future men in my life have to have the approval of both my families (american and ukrainian). ha.

they’ve asked many times when i’ll be able to come back and visit (“with your children!” they say hopefully)– but my answer is always the same — i want to, but we’ll see about money and time. i really hope i can visit again before long. my ukrainian hosts have become a second family to me. they are all such caring, kind, generous people that i’m thankful to have gotten to know — thankful that i’ll have people to miss and people to miss me.

now it’s off to my second to last day of school. i have a picnic planned for my english club kiddos, printed some photos from our parties for them, and have a box of things (stickers, toys, bookmarks) to hand-out. even though they’re goofy goober-heads in class, saying good-bye to my students isn’t going to be easy.

the sea of azov

“azov”

dried fish for sale

my landlord’s new beach house. so nice!

paksa

one of the many photos from my forced photo sessia

a giant bag of mayonnaise.

the singing begins

sarah and igor dancing the night away

“time expands, then contracts, all in tune with the stirrings of the heart”                                                           haruki marakami // kafka on the shore

time is an interesting thing — there always seems to be too much of it or too little of it. there have been many a days when i’ve thought of just how long i have left in ukraine, a seemingly endless countdown, but now with only 10 days left in the country i’ve called home for the past two years everything i do is accompanied with a bittersweet prefix of “my last”.

i’ve been trying to update my blog for several days now but the internet hasn’t been working in my favor, so bear with me on the catching up i’m about to do. i tried making a video update but in the 4 times i tried to upload my video i’m pretty sure i caused a village-wide internet crash. sooo, no video for now. i’ll have to wait till i get to america, land of the wi-fi and not-so-frequent-internet-outages, to upload my queue of videos. normally if the internet has a working rate of 2 minutes every 9 hours, i’d slowly start to die inside, but with the weather this nice, i really don’t mind. it’s almost as though ukraine wants me to carpe diem the crap out of my last moments here.

when i’m not trying to figure out what the hell to do with all of my stuff (turns out the airline would charge an insane amount for a second checked bag so one suitcase it is!), i’m spending time with my site mate, landlords & neighbors, reading in the grass, and planning some parties. most recently i hosted an american going away party for myself and another volunteer from my group who’s also leaving in may. after some post-may 1st holiday celebrations and alcohol induced brainstorming, we decided the theme would be “babushka & diduce go to mars!” but somehow it turned into simply wearing floral patterns and wool soviet army hats. oddly enough, my landlords and neighbors really didn’t think it was weird for us to be wearing such outfits…but then again…i’m pretty sure i’ve weirded them out more with my winter running gear.

our melange of a theme themed party turned out to be a great success. my site mate and co-host, sarah, along with the four volunteers in the nearby city who got a glimpse of the village at its finest, enjoyed a hodgepodge of mexican/american/ukrainian foods, had a photo sessia in the fields, and were able to take some things of mine (woo!). i tried to keep sentimentality to a minimum (although sarah’s adorable drawing of us and village life almost made me cry), i mean i can only handle so many last parties, so while it really didn’t feel like too much of a ‘last party together’, it was still a perfect way to say good-bye.

sarah’s drawing “village life” — it captures the essence of what i love and will miss about village life.

babushka soviet soldiers // this is really how sarah and i normally dress

giving a tour of village life

posing with my neighbor kola and landlady alla

my landlord sergie and sarah’s landlord kola

swinging through the cucumber vines

photo sessia in the fields

sarah looks a bit sleepy, but i still love this photo

]]> http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/05/06/%d1%81%d0%be%d0%b2%d0%b5%d1%82%d1%81%d0%ba%d0%b8%d0%b5-%d0%b1%d0%b0%d0%b1%d1%83%d1%88%d0%ba%d0%b8-soviet-babushkas/feed/ 2 condimentlove DSC_0475 DSC_0729 DSC_0501 DSC_0507 DSC_0513 DSC_0522 DSC_0524 DSC_0552 DSC_0557 http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/04/30/ukraine-a-video-brought-to-you-by-two-touring-dutch-cyclists/ http://borschtandbabushkas.com/2013/04/30/ukraine-a-video-brought-to-you-by-two-touring-dutch-cyclists/#comments Tue, 30 Apr 2013 19:46:46 +0000 condimentlove http://borschtandbabushkas.com/?p=4352 Continue reading →]]> with its endless fields of sunflowers and wheat, carpathian mountains in the west, crimea in the south, and sprawling steppe of the east – ukraine, the bread basket of euopre, is a beautiful country. sometimes when winter lasts what feels like more than half the year it’s easy to forget just how gorgeous ukraine can be in the spring and summer. the warmer months showcase ukraine at its greenest, most fertile state, when ukraine is at its finest, at its best.

everything i love about ukraine in the spring/summer is captured in this video made by two touring dutch cyclists*. i give them serious props for venturing to the land of cyrillic without really knowing the language. but they seem to prove in the end that a form of universal language and hospitality does in fact exist. despite what almost seems like a paid endorsement from roshen chocolate at the end, the video is really well done. enjoy : )

some people get their best ideas in the shower, but well, since i don’t have a shower and my bucket baths don’t last long enough to have any other complete thought other than “god, i miss showers”, train rides have, in a sense, become my ‘shower’. i tend to get rather philosophical and reflective while riding overnight trains in ukraine. i think it’s inpart the nostalgic romanticism i have for train rides (even though i know it will never be like a scene from white christmas or some like it hot), and the fact that for 12+ hours there really isn’t much to distract you with other than the countryside passing by and the occasional drunk passenger.

on my past train ride (my second to last one in ukraine), in between daydreaming and watching the pastures dotted with the occasional tethered cow pass by, i made quite a bit of progress on the book i’m reading — kafka on the shore by haruki murakami . i have my ex to thank for introducing me to haruki murakami just like he has to thank me for introducing him to soy carmel machiattos. in the very beginning of our michigan to illinois (and later china to ukraine) relationship, we exchanged our favorite books via mail. i sent him kazuo ishiguro never let me go and he sent me murakami’s norwegian wood. at the time i felt some sort of ironic fate in the fact that both of our favorite books were written by westernized japanese authors.

with each page of murakami’s work, i found myself underlining, pondering, and falling in love with his rhetoric even more. murakami’s works quickly became a favorite and eventually my one-sided romance with the marathoning murakami outlasted my own inter-continental romance.

my current read, kafka on the shore, a modern day oedipus rex, is so fantastical and complex that on occasion i have to stop and ask myself “wait, am i tripping balls?”. it’s a wonderful read. when i came across this section i couldn’t help but make some margin notes to myself. i’ve come back and re-read it several times already, each time thinking of a new meaning or application.

i’m at the point in my service where i feel some sort of external pressure to understand everything i’ve gone through here, to have everything figured out, to write one final wrap-up blog post of lessons learned as many other volunteers have. rest assured, there won’t be one final “this is what peace corps has taught me!” post — that would be like trying to convince ukrainians to eat less animal fat. but i think what murakami wrote sums up how i’m feeling as i near the end of this journey better than i ever could:

  “Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn’t something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn’t get in, and walk through it, step by step. There’s no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That’s the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine.

And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You’ll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others.

And once the storm is over you won’t remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won’t even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won’t be the same person who walked in. That’s what this storm’s all about.”

― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

i thought about this passage on the train yesterday — thinking about what the storm meant to me, about what it meant to be the storm. i have some answers, some ideas. but like a true english major, i could contemplate this forever. i do think all volunteers could attest to the last paragraph. i know i’m not the same person i was when i walked in, when the storm began. maybe in a few years i’ll have some clearer answers about how this experience has changed me…maybe on my last train ride of philosophical thinking and pondering, i’ll have some clearer answers.