July 25, 2007: Be a friend!
Hey! Today is my four month anniversary of leaving home! I think I will officially have Internet tomorrow. I only hope that a) it is working and b) my flash drive will work there. I leave Saturday for Ivano-Frankivsk to work at an English Camp and visit with my favorite PCV friends. We are scattered all over UA so the opportunity to get together doesn't come by that often.
I will officially be living with my host family through winter and maybe longer. I am actually the only volunteer from my group that wanted to stay with my family. My village is tiny and with literally nothing to do, I don't think living on my own would be a good idea right now. Plus it will help my language skills and will make me more social.
Anyway, some really good news – my mom sent out a letter and it only took 10 days to get here! So now that I have proof that the address works and is quick, I will email the address out to everyone. If you want it and didn't get the email, just send me an email at emilykracht@yahoo.com. Again, boxes work, but the best are padded envelopes – they don't get searched at customs. And put a list of everything you sent inside the package as proof.
Things that I really want?! Books! I like the classics, travel…and magazines – the Economist is my favorite and The New Yorker great, but any news will do. I am really cut off from the world here so even old news is good news. Also, PEANUT BUTTER! Kroger chunky or creamy is best, nothing natural, just stick with Jiffy or Peter Pan. Maybe a cheesy t-shirt that can be put in a padded envelope. I am already running low on cloths. Also games! I really need more games – Uno is starting to wear on me (I have scrabble and cards). And DVDs! Please! Just wrap up those old movies that you don't really watch anymore and send them my way. Or if there is a really good movie and it just came out on video and you want to earn an extra letter from me!!! Ok, ok…I'll stop! (or you could just surprise me!!) Or, I love letters (not love letters) – seriously – just write me a letter and it will bring me happiness for days! Or surprise me –
everyone loves a surprise!
Come on! Be a friend! Just do it!

July 24, 2007: Shto-Shto?
What? I don't understand? I speak Russian very bad. I am American. I usually look on these phrases with dread and frustration. I use them a few times a day. Even though I know I don't look Ukrainian tourists come to me with directions and questions. Going to a bazaar or magazine always includes a comment or question that I completely don't understand. After these comments I have made the habit of always telling myself that I have only been here four months and Russian is damn hard; a feel good comment with an ounce of truth in it.
Even though it is only 11:16 am I have already had my one big excursion of the day. I made a trip to the post office to mail some letters this morning. The post office is a five minute walk down main field. After giving my letters to Oksana Ivanovna (that's not really her name, but they are all so long how am I to remember them all?) she told me the price. Assuming that I had no idea what she said, she wrote it down on a piece of paper for me. After the post I went to the magazine to buy water and when I asked for the price the clerk held up two fingers. If I don't know the Russian word for '2' yet I am in deep trouble. Instead of correcting them and showing them that I do indeed understand what they are saying, I let them believe in my ignorance.
Even though my biggest complaint and frustration is not understanding I am learning to use this to my advantage. For example, my friend Oksana (that's her real name) and I were coming home from the disco the other weekend and got a ride home from her friend, Sasha or something. While we were driving back he asked me how American men compare to Ukrainian men. I understood what he said but really did not want to answer the question, so I pretended I was lost in translation. I also use this method a lot when I need or want something. Ukrainians have a very indirect style of asking for certain things. If I need something I usually hint about it until they bring up the idea themselves. If the idea is not the one I want, I choose not to understand what they are saying.
Soon this method will cease to exist. I suppose right now is a form of adaptation, a way to get out of uncomfortable situations and questions I don't want to answer. As my language improves and people catch on I will have to learn to come up with excuses or better ways. Or perhaps I will understand the cultural differences by then and will know how to answer.

July 23, 2007: Prognosses Pagoda – The Ukrainian Weather Report
People have told me about the Ukrainian weather reports. Beautiful women in skimpy cloths posing in front of the camera. I saw my first one today and it was a beautiful, thin woman with long blond hair and a short black dress with one of those wide necklines that expose the shoulders. Sporadically throughout the report were four second blurbs about products like soap and cleaning supplies. The woman would comment on the wonderful product and then go back to gesturing towards southern Ukraine. Basically, it will be hot and sunny tomorrow.
It has been hot and sunny since moved to southern Ukraine. The past week has been 45 degrees Celsius – that's over 110 Fahrenheit kids. I thought I would be cold in Ukraine! What happened to the big fur hats? Today I actually had to go to work. On Mondays and Wednesday s I am supposed to go play sports with kids. Last week they told me not to go, but I got a call today saying I was expected to be there. The idea of running in 110 degree weather didn't really sound like fun, especially since I was just getting over a migraine, but I had to go, so I did. When on the phone with my counterpart I told her I needed a ball. She said that she would call the gym teacher and my host brother could go and pick up a ball for me to use.
"So, you are going to call Vannya and tell him he needs to go get the ball?"
"Yes."
"Ok, so I don't need to tell Vannya, because you are going to call him, right?"
"Yes, yes!"
"Ok, so you'll call him or Ena?"
"Yes, I will call them, goodbye."
This is the one woman in town who speaks a bit of English so I said those lines to her in English and Russian. It doesn't seem like a difficult task, but did I have a ball for sports day? Of course not! I had two kids show up and had to send them home. That is what is frustrating about Ukraine. A task that should be simple and direct is always so difficult! My friend was recently having a problem finding an apartment in her town. It is a town of 5000 full of apartment buildings so it really shouldn't be a problem, but they kept putting it off. So she packed her 5 huge bags with all her stuff and told her host family she was going to stay with another volunteer half an hour away. And wouldn't you know it, the next day she was moved into a new apartment. Everyday my patience is tested is another day it gets a little better. If I moved home now I feel like I would have the patience of a rock – whatever that means.
July 19, 2007: Marriage Agency! American owned!
It's over 100 degrees today. I finally, after a month, had my first successful journey to Odesa and back. First was my adventure with Mike. The second time the bus broke down for three hours just outside of Odesa. It was 9:30 PM before I got home and almost dark. I was really worried about missing my one road and going right past my village, but somehow I saw it. Ena met me on Main Field with a hug and had dinner and a beer waiting for me.
They are actually paving Main Field – well – half of it anyway. It looks strange-this dark, blacktop road next to the cows and goosies (that's a Russian word, really!). It is a phenomenon all across Ukraine – the modern next to the traditional. For example, my village has no modern plumbing, water that often doesn't run and horse drawn carts. At the same time, almost every house is decked out with a satellite dish, everyone has a cell phone and everyone wears Dulce & Gabanna. Even in a bigger city like Odesa you will see everyone's laundry hanging outside – no one has dryers and many no washing machines. And now that I think of it, I haven't seen a dish washer since I left America.
Not only that, the transportation system is years behind everyone else. My aim in going to Odesa today was to buy a ticket to Ivano-Frankivsk, a bigger city in the west. It is going to take me 20 hours on a train to get there! 20 hours! Ukraine is the size of Texas and Odesa and IF are not that far apart. My favorite is that the trains are not allowed in Western Europe because the toilets still empty directly onto the tracks – it's just a hole really. They lock the toilets and half hour before and after each stop.
I was trying to figure out a way to describe my typical day, but I am still pretty perplexed myself on how I spend my time. There never seems to be enough time in the day even though there is nothing to do here! An excursion to the store is a big event, and somehow, I keep telling myself that I am too busy to mail the letters I have written….but I'm not doing anything! I usually get up around 9:30 and then eat breakfast and drink coffee. Then I study, read or randomly amuse myself doing who knows what until 5ish. Lunch is in there somewhere – potatoes and borsch everyday!
At some point I try to go running and have been pretty successful. Just the other day a Babushka stepped into the streets and yelled "good job!" Yes, in Russian. If she yelled it in English I would have collapsed right there in the field. It was a nice change from children chasing me yelling "Hello! My name is Sasha!" My favorite running story is from just a few days before that. I was running by a wheat field (a field – seriously?) near the main road and heard a truck coming from behind and it started to honk. This happens pretty often because it is not common to see people run here and I usually ignore it. But as the truck passed me I see a guy hanging halfway out of the window waving his arms yelling "Emily! Emily!" I have no idea who it was, but it was really funny.
So back to my day….at about 3:00 Nastia starts coming in my room to ask what I am doing. She does this every 20 minutes until I agree to play Uno or something with her. I'm not exaggerating. One day last week we played Uno, did a puzzle, drew pictures, played handclaps and then played games on my computer. I am her entertainment.
Nastia recently took the opportunity of pointing out my awful fashion sense and lack of cool cloths. Apparently my green skirt is the most horrid color green imaginable (yeah Fatty and Shannon, that green…). My skirts are all way too long and my necklines don't plunge enough…and seriously – do my jeans not have writing across the ass! At first I was almost in tears. I called Mike because I needed to have that girly "I don't have any cloths!!!" whining session with someone. And let's not even start on my shoes. And all that black? It looks mournful. And seriously, I don't wear see through shirts! Even the 50 year old teachers wear see-through shirts. Mesh shirts are a MUST this season for any stylish man. Basically, I don't dress like Ukrainian women and honestly, I don't think I want to.
Anyway, we usually eat dinner between 7 and 9:30 and this is usually my favorite time of the day. We often pull the table out into the courtyard just as it is getting dark. There is usually wine or beer and we always comment on how crazy Mooxa, the crazy German shepherd, is. It is always so relaxing sitting with them when the day is cooling off and work is done.
And speaking of work, I am making an effort to help with their huge garden. The soil here is incredibly rich and dark. Yesterday we picked potatoes for an hour or so and today my legs are actually sore – don't laugh! It's like doing squats for an hour. They asked if I picked potatoes in America and I told them I picked them at the supermarket. They thought that was really funny and told me their garden was their supermarket. I agreed and told them that theirs was much fresher and more natural. Then we played a little baseball with potatoes and the shovel.
Ok. Random true story. I just took a two minute break from typing to call home. To use this particular SIM card I have to stand basically touching the window to get reception. So, I look outside at the neighbor's house and there is an old man in his speedo building a fence! YES! I LOVE UKRAINE! Hahaha! You never know what you're going to see. It is these little moments that make everything worth it.

July 4, 2007: I live in a field.
Yes, I'm still alive and well. Happy Fourth of July. Nobody knows what that is here, so I won't be celebrating with a bbq and fireworks or anything. This morning I went to school. For some reason my director wants me there even though school ended and no teachers are there. Finally, when workers came into my cabinet (office) and started taking out the windows I decided the situation was ridiculous enough to warrant going home and studying.
I was in a pretty bad mood all morning until I went to the post office. I had three letters to America, one to Canada and two within Ukraine. In Obuhov, my training site, they just put an ink stamp on the letter. But here they covered the envelopes with eight stamps of various sizes and colors so that just the writing showed. The post lady kept saying, "oh, that's pretty!" It's the little things, really.
As you have probably figured out I do not have Internet in my town. In fact, I don't have much of anything in my town. In the past week I've walked around quite a bit, only to find four stores, three of which are by the beach and will close in the winter, two hotels, which will close as well, and a post office. I'm told by some that the police stopped working here three months ago, but others have said that is not true. Either way the townspeople are determined that I do not get their number. The hospital's address is located on Pobedi Street. I was surprised to find they had a hospital – but not surprised when they told me it wasn't build yet.
We also have a Palace of Culture. That's what they call the community centers here. I gave a speech at the graduation ceremony to about 300 people there last week. I spoke half in Russian and half in English with a translator. I have always had really interesting experiences in the Palace of Culture. The first time I went there was site visit. They dressed me up like a Ukrainian bride and made me drink the worst samahon (homemade vodka) of my life. The next was my speech. My translator tried to take the speech from me as we were walking up, telling me I didn't need it. This is from a lady who told me to say exactly what was written or she wouldn't be able to translate it. And the third time was when my friend Mike was visiting. I saw one of the workers on the street and she invited me in for a presentation for a tourist group from Moldova. When I went in they said, "and this is our American, Emily, and her boyfriend! She will teach
English and computers at the school and live with us for two years!" Yes, I am part of the tourist attraction. Later, when the Director of the Palace of Culture was trying to marry me off to her son, Mike became my translator. The rumor of having a boyfriend that doesn't really exist can be very convenient in a small town, especially when potential suitors are trying to arrange dinner at your house.
When I first came to my site I remember thinking it looked like a field. It still looks like a field; it just feels a little more like my field. Rather than looking out for cars on "main street field," I look out for renegade geese – of which there are many, and for cows that get loose and charge the school – I really did see one do that the other day. I am getting used to the daily procession of goats. A man collects them out in a field at the far end of town and then walks them down main field. They leave in groups of two or three and wait from someone to open the gate at their respective houses. Who knew goats were so smart?
My saving grace here, as in Obuhov, is my host family. Ena calls me her daughter and Nastia is the closest to a sister I have ever had. We are required to live with a host family for one month and then most volunteers move out on their own. I plan on staying with my family here for the next year or more. Ena has made this argument to me many times even though I always tell her I agree with her. She takes me down to their cellar and shows me jars upon jars of food already stored up for winter. "What are you going to eat if you live alone? They only sell noodles and chocolate here! Where will you get your coal?" No joke – coal. I know she is right. People in my village have gardens and produce almost all of their own food, from fruit and vegetables to meat and dairy products. Honestly, I can't even buy water without gas here and if I want a phone card I have to walk five kilometers to the store by the beach, the one that closes for
winter.
I won't say this isn't hard. Every day, sometimes every hour I ask myself why I am here. One moment I will have a conversation with someone and I'll actually understand and will be proud of myself, thinking that my communication isn't all that bad. But give it two minutes and another conversation will fail, plummeting my spirits just as fast as they rose before. In fact, pretty much all of my frustration comes from lack of communication. I studied Russian for three months and then moved to a town where everyone speaks Ukrainian. My site is convinced I will learn perfect Russian in the following two months and then move on to Ukrainian. I hate to let them down and am working hard, but I'm pretty sure that is impossible.
The most frustrating thing about life thus far is my job. Mainly because I have no idea what is going on. I am going to be teaching computers in the fall – many of you may know my fondness for computers is nonexistent. The school bought a new computer for me to use. I couldn't turn it on. Yeah. I tried everything, so I think it is the computer, not me. In addition the school wants me to work 20 hours a week. Sure, that doesn't sound like too much, but it is a ton. TEFL volunteers are only required to teach 18 and Youth Development, only 4. My job working at the school is only part of my job. I also need to start clubs and work in the community. But try explaining this in Russian! Plus they don't want to give me any details until September, when school starts. So much for planning. But that is the Peace Corps. I know everything will work out. The key is not stressing out about it in the mean time.
And I do stress – am stressing. Call it a mixture of culture shock, homesickness and stress, but every day something makes me cry. I come across a letter Fatty wrote me before I left and I cry. I see a picture of friends or family and cry. Even a certain temperature or noise can flood my brain with memories from home. I never realized how thankful I was for friends and family at home, but being away brings what is important to you into the forefront. On the other hand, nothing could induce me to leave. I love the unexpected things that happen daily – the cow running through the school yard, the lady walking down the street in her bra, the goats walking home. Where else do these things happen but in small towns in the middle of nowhere? The good moments come more often than the frustrating and agonizing moments and every day has some type of little adventure.
Internet access is limited, so PLEASE!! Write me letters – send me packages! I love Kroger Peanut Butter and candy that doesn't melt (hint hint). Padded envelopes are the key if possible. But really, a letter makes me happy for days and I will write you back, I promise! I write really long letters too – you won't be disappointed! Miss you all – peace out.
Following are stories from my first weeks as a PCV!

June 25, 2007: First Day
Today is my first day as a Peace Corps Volunteer living in Ukraine. I live in a small village. Imagine a long field with houses on each side of it. This is main street. There is a road – not really dirt or paved, just rocks and grass with a cow or horse grazing periodically. The village is a long village. I live in a house a 40 minute walk from the Black Sea. The village is built along one main road that reaches from the sea to just past where I live. The houses have long yards filled with fruit trees, gardens and blue and white fences. All have animals and roosters and geese are a constant soundtrack to village life. When walking, I look back down the road for cars out of habit. There are more animals and horse drawn carts than cars.
My house is medium sized. My room is big. To get to the outhouse I have to walk past the puppies and kittens, pig pen, chickens and roosters, and in between the rabbit cages. In terms of outhouses it is nice – it has a seat with soft fabric on it. I also pass the outside shower. There is a bucket of cold water on top of a cube. The kitchen is detached from the rest of the house. It has a small sink for washing hands, two small gas burners and a refrigerator. When I got here there was no running water, but half way through the day it came on. It is common here not to have running water. There is no hot water.
There are still some mysteries I need to unlock. How do they do dishes? I have not seen a garbage can. When are they killing the next chicken and can I help? Why was that lady in the "street" wearing just a bra? Why is it I never see anyone else use the outhouse? How will I learn to live alone here? I have washed cloths by hand, but will I be able to wash sheets? Where do I even buy sheets? I need to learn to cook. I want a garden. I want a dog. I assume that during my two years these things will be answered and most likely with mass amounts of confusion. I have been learning Russian for the past three months and the people in town speak Ukrainian first.
Through all of the mysteries I do have some obvious truths. I do have electricity. I can type stories on my computer but I have no Internet to post them. I have a wonderful family and this already feels like a home. I have Life cell phone coverage if I stand in the driveway. And I have beauty. I had never noticed the beauty of the wind blowing through a wheat field until I walked through one today. I usually think of myself as a forest lover, but there is also something about walking through a field that relaxes the mind and spirit. I can see for miles and in every direction is a different colored field dotted with blue and white houses with gardens.
Life here will be more simple and quiet then I have ever lived. I need to learn to be a peace with it, to be patient and to change my inner clock to village time. Today was spent eating fruit from my family's trees: cherries, peaches, mulberries, boysenberries and strawberries. The garden is full of fresh vegetables and the back yard full of potential fresh meat. Everything here is natural – even the air is fresher. Overall there is a feeling of calmness with a small undercurrent, like a stream that pulls a leaf gently over rocks and past obstacles. At times things may get in the way, but eventually the river's small pull will push it through and it will continue downstream.

June 29, 2007: The Chicken
"I'm on the bus. I'll call you in 10 minutes."
I figured I would sit and read more of my book, but just at that moment, Mama Ena walked around the corner with a beheaded chicken, just killed. I was a bit sorry that I had not been there to witness the actual act, but I reminded myself there would be plenty more opportunities seeing that there were 30 chickens running around in the backyard. I told her that I wanted to kill a chicken, so she had me follow her around for the rest of the process.
1. Remove the rest of the feathers on the gas burner – just singe them off.
2. Put the chicken on the table. This is the table I eat every meal on by the way.
3. Cut off the chicken feet and feed them to the dogs.
4. Cut a hole in the bottom of the chicken and let the innards spill onto the table. This is the table where I eat every meal by the way.
5. Give eggs now on the table to the cats.
6. Pull everything out from inside the chicken. Note: There was blood splattered and it didn't help that Nastia and I were pitting cherries while this was going on. In looked like a bloody mess. Yes, I eat every meal here.
7. Pull out liver.
8. Cut neck off.
9. Put chicken in refrigerator.
10. Clean off table.
Then we made a cake!
July 1, 2007: The Adventure
Both Mike and I consider ourselves fairly well traveled. "I'll be fine getting there," Mike told his regional manager, "I've traveled all over the world." Last week was a Ukrainian holiday so Mike decided to come and visit for a change of scenery. We met in Odesa at 8:30 on Thursday morning. It was easy getting to the city from my little village – just a manner of waiting by the side of the road until the bus came.
We walked around for a few hours, ate Mexican food (Ukrainian style, of course), walked down the Potemkin Steps and Mike got his picture taken with a monkey. Ok, not really, but he could of. Why do all of the big Ukrainian cities have monkeys? Are there monkeys in Dnsipropetrovsk? About 2:30 we headed back to the bus station to get tickets home. I was told there was a 3:00 bus so we had plenty of time. Except that there was no bus. In fact, there was no 4:00 bus either. By this time I was getting a little impatient. Finally, after getting to know all of the cashiers, Mike got tickets for a 5:30 bus. A little later that expected, but we were going home.
We got on the bus just as it started to rain. It hasn't rained in this area in months…a bad omen (oooooooh….) After about half an hour in the martshrutka something didn't feel right. In fact, it never felt quite right. I asked what side of the bus the sea was on. The right. Shit! We were headed north and we were in the middle of wheat fields. The only thing was to wait it out for the next big city and then head back to Odesa.
Two hours later the marshrutka left us in Berezovka. Yeah. That's what we said too – where? The fellow bus passengers tried to help us out. They called a cab and told us it would cost 200 hva. Too much. A kid told us that a train left for Odesa at 8:30. It was 8:00 then, so we ran the 1 or 2 kilometers to the train station just as a train was pulling up…going north. The attendant told us that the next train to Odesa would be at 5 am.
By this point it was funny. We went back to the bus stop and tried to call the cab but no one answered. We sat dejected but laughing by a store. That's when our luck turned. We met the amazing Pete, the guy who rode his bike around town. He wasn't really that amazing, but he did know a few words in English and where a hotel was located.
The hotel was actually just around the corner from the bus stop though I don't know if we would have found it on our own. It cost 35 hva a night, about $7. We found an open store and grabbed a nutritious dinner of bread, cheese and beer and spent a relaxing night trying to figure out where we went wrong. Only later would we find out that the name of my town is very likey the most popular in Ukraine. There are seven around Odesa with this name and over 20 around Ukraine. And seeing that my village is most likely the smallest, it is a wonder we ever made it back!
Up at 6 am. It wasn't a problem getting a bus back to Odesa. It dropped us at the long-distance bus station on the outside of town and we had to walk to the other station about 2 kilometers into the city. Back where we started, we decided to change tactics and head to the next big town south of Odesa, Bilgorod Dnestrovsky. At least we'd be going in the right direction. We searched for buses for awhile and were finally told that the buses to Bilgorod were actually located at the train station (why?). And they were. A whole line of them. It only took an hour to get there and finally, at 2 pm, we were on the way home. The bus drove right by my village – I think the driver blinked. I made him stop the bus after my town and as we exited, he wished us luck.

____________________________________________________________________________________
Looking for a deal? Find great prices on flights and hotels with Yahoo! FareChase.
http://farechase.yahoo.com/