SHIT!

Five months!

Can you believe it? I left my home and life in Michigan five months ago already. It is interesting to think that so much has
changed here – my life is carried on by a strong undercurrent, whereas at home
time is standing still and flying by at the same time. What is five months when the same basic
routine is practiced daily? What was
five months in Michigan? Waking up, driving to work, checking my email
and making my daily to-do list. Then to
the gym and then home to read or study. When the same thing happens day after day time
stands still and flies by. Because of
this I haven't talked to most of you. It
is hard for me to call and email and time there is telling you I just
left. I put no blame or guilt on anyone
– just an interesting observation. Time
is different here.

I have tried to put a routine in place here but it has
proved impossible. I try to study every
day until around five, but things always end up pushing that to the side. For instance, yesterday I started off studying,
but instead ended up feeding the farm animals, picking apples, cleaning the
kitchen and hand washing my laundry. By
the time that was done I was too tired to study so I sewed a new zipper on my
mumu. Maybe that is why time is so fast
here. Every day is different. Every day has the potential for adventure and
I love it! Even with disaster looming in
the background I take chances here because that is the only way to live. And I am so happy doing it! Through the
frustration, the sadness, the missing people, I absolutely love my life
here.

My adventure last week came up last minute. I was visiting Eryn and Eileen, the closest
volunteers to me, in Bilgorod-Dnitrovsky.
We often meet here because it is the middle point. Eileen had just arrived that morning from a
visit out west and realized that a few of our friends were arriving the
following morning. We decided that we
would all meet in Eryn's city the following morning and spend a few days
together in the south.

Eryn's city is located between Moldova
and the Black Sea. It is a bigger town, or maybe it just feels
big to my 1500. It is home to 5000 but
what once much bigger, before the factory shut down. All of us arrived by noon – Eileen, Monica,
Gayle and I. We bought fresh food at the
bazaar and spent the afternoon making friendship bracelets and cooking. Eryn's mom sent her peanut sauce that was
amazing! I've realized my favorite times with other volunteers are cooking and
hanging out speaking English. It is so
nice to understand.

The following day we headed half an hour east to Eileen's
village. Eileen's village is actually
smaller than mine, coming in at just 1000 people. It's not even on a map. But it is a charming village surrounded by
low hills and vineyards. Eileen actually
has her own village house. It is big for
one person – two large rooms, a large entry way and a detached kitchen with
another room attached to it. The trellis
is covered with ripe grapes and flowers and the outhouse, although made for
shorter people, is clean. We have
already decided it is the perfect place for Thanksgiving and plan on killing a
turkey.

We originally planned on cooking stuffed peppers for dinner,
but ended up being invited to Eileen's landlords for dinner instead. The plan was to eat little and cook when we
got back, but once the various plates heaped with food were presented we knew
we had lost another food battle. It was
an amazing meal though, accompanied by plenty of sama-vino (not a real word, but
Samahon is homemade vodka,so I call homemade wine sama-vino). At some point during dinner the couple
mentioned that their cow was coming home soon.
Oh! The perfect opportunity for milking!
I expressed my wish to milk the cow and Gayle seconded me.

I had actually heard about this cow from Eileen in the
past. She went with her landlords to the
cow field one day to milk the cow. All
of the cows looked the same and she wondered how they knew which one was
theirs. Then they called out their cow's
name and it came over to be milked and licked Eileen, just like a dog. Everyday there is a cow procession home, just
like the goats in my village. I was
actually really excited when I heard this story because I had a cow story too
and didn't feel so alone in my "village-ness." (My cow story is not as exciting. It is about the neighbor's loud-ass cow that
wakes me up every morning! Who know
'mooooo' was so damn loud!)

Anyway, this is where the story turns into more than
story. This is where a story turns into
PC legend. People are always comparing
their experiences to others in the Peace Corps.
It is like you can earn points for certain things – things deemed "Peace
Corps, "as if it were an adjective. For
instance, because my town only has one store that doesn't even sell tampons, it
could be deemed as very peace corps. Or
my outdoor toilet and shower are very peace corps, especially when you compare
it to Jonathan's hot shower with water pressure – very un-peace corps. In fact, things that are very un-peace corps
are often referred to as posh corps.
Peace Corps volunteers living by western standards are often referred to
as posh corps members. It can actually
be insulting, like someone implying that their service is more "real" than
someone else's.

I digress. So after
dinner we do go outside to milk the cow.
I sit on a little bench and conjure up memories from milking a cow at
the state fair when I was really young.
Then I got a button that said, "I MILKED A COW!" I kind of wish I was getting one of those
again. Anyway, it takes a second, but
the milk starts to flow. Gayle is
standing behind me watching and as soon as the mild starts flowing, Eryn steps
up to get a closer look.

The cow, maybe wondering who this stranger is milking her or
why these Americans are crowding around her just to watch the milk, swings its
head around to see what is going on.
Gayle motions Eryn back so she doesn't get hit, and unfortunately Eryn
takes one step too many….Directly behind the cow is a trough of liquid cow
shit. We are talking knee deep. When Eryn takes that one extra step backwards
she unknowingly trips on the edge of this trough and falls sideways, going head
under! As Eileen later put it, she could
have blown bubbles.

The only thing spared was half of her face and a little of
her arm. Those close enough were
splashed with cow shit – my arm and foot covered and I would later find it in
my hair. I was so focused on the milking
I saw everything from the corner of my eye.
I remember the first scream, and then an image implanted in my head of
Eryn standing knee deep, dripping and yelling "I can't believe this is
happening!"

I truly admire Eryn during this entire situation. While she was yelling and dripping, she was
also laughing. "I'm covered in cow
shit!" We were all laughing at this point.
The wife led Eryn inside her house covering the curtains and floor with
cow shit. Eileen went to check on her
and the rest of us were outside, the Ukrainians on the ground laughing and the
Americans just barely able to stand, not believing that we had just witnessed
Eryn falling backwards into a vat of cow shit.
Half of their bathtub was filled up with cow shit water when Eryn came
out. After one last shot of sama-vino we
went home so that Eryn and the rest of us tainted could properly scrub
ourselves of the remaining vestiges of the foul smelling liquid.

Eryn will always be known as "that volunteer who fell in cow
shit." Rumors and gossip spread like
wild-fire here and everyone is sure to know of anything interesting within 24
hours. She has a story that few can
replicate in their lives and because of her sense of humor the story will go
down as PC Ukraine legend.

The rest of the trip seems so uneventful. We left for Odesa the next morning and got an
apartment. Most people stay in
apartments instead of hotels because they are cheaper. The family actually stays there too, they
just happen to have an extra room to rent out for the night. We went to the beach and met another
volunteer for dinner at a very American restaurant. Odesa at night is beautiful.

And then the inevitable arrived, goodbyes. Part of what makes PC so stressful is this
constant barrage of goodbyes. There is
always the knowledge that you have to go back home alone and struggle with the
language or job or whatever your Achilles heel happens to be, alone. Thankfully, after every goodbye you always
have your next trip to look forward to.
As volunteers we are forever planning ways to see each other so that
just for a few days, we can truly relax and face the differences and barriers
together.

Thank you to everyone who has sent packages and
letters! No really – the support from
home is amazing! I got two packages and
a letter today – totally unexpected and I am so happy! My new address works
really fast – in 7 to 9 days. Recently a
volunteer told me about SKYPE. You can
call from your computer to a cell phone for something like 2 cents a
minute. I don't have all the details but
I know a lot of volunteers use it here.
Check it out and call me!

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