Pics of my current living situation

Okay, here are some pics of the house.  This is the REAL Peace Corps experience right here!

My house

 My dad asked me to a take a pic of the horse and buggies, so there you go.  A common sight here.

The Kitchen/Washing Area

The Living Room/Bedroom

My Bathroom

The Well

Chuvak (the yappy dog that is now apparently my best friend)

And this is my life right now.  Enjoy!

My house

So, here I am in Berdychiv! I finally opted for the house option of my two options. It's not bad . . the kitchen's a bit small and doesn't even have a sink or anything, so I use buckets as my sink, buckets for my laundry, and take bucket baths in the corner of the kitchen. And, of course, I have an outhouse, which sounds scary, but the biggest issue I've had so far is the guard dog outside, who was nameless (Ukrainians don't name their pets), but who I've named "Chuvak", which means "dude" in Russian. For the first few nights at my house, I was scared to come home after dark because the dog friggin' barks and yaps all the time, and everytime I would go to the outhouse he would follow me and growl. But I took care of that by bribing him with a hot dog, so now we're buddies. Now he literally follows me everywhere, I'm sure because he wants food. And today he even ventured inside my house for a few minutes and sat there!

Today is a big day because I'm getting a refrigerator! No joke. . . this is a big deal. My counterpart and her family is bringing it over and then we're going to have a picnic at my house. Where? I have no clue.. . . . maybe on the street? Considering I have no chairs, this will be interesting.

Other than that, nothing new has been going on. I'm going to start working on a grant this week to get my organization a laptop so they can go around Berdychiv and do different types of trainings. I'm still not really understanding most of what is said to me, but I go along with it anyways and just say "da", so they think I'm smart. On of these days that's going to backfire and I'm going to end up being married to a 20 year old or something.

Oh. and Blogger's being stupid so I can't upload photos right now. Hopefully I'll have pics of the house up by the end of the week.

Love to you all!

And so the adventure begins!

Well, I'm here!  After an intensly sad and teary goodbye (literally, Rachel was sobbing on my shoulder because she's on the other side of the country, 12 hours away.  Boo) it's time to let the adventure begin!  Actually, the adventure began when we got on the bus yesterday to come to Berdychiv (my town), and only when the bus pulled away did we find out that the bus wasn't stopping in Berychiv because the bridge to get there was down.  My counterpart turns to me and says "don't worry.  everything's okay.  this is ukraine.  this is normal".  Couldn't have said it better myself!  So, in true Peace Corps fashion, we get off the bus at the city limits, on the side of the highway with nothing around, where my Luba had gotten her mom and dad to pick us up in a car.  Then we drove to Babuska's house, where I spent the night.

I'm living for the next 2 years in Berdychiv, which is about 2 hours southwest of Kiev (this is the point where you're all supposed to take out your maps and check out the location). From what I understand from my counterpart, my sitemate, and the one guy I've met who speaks English, Berdychiv used to be the Jewish capital of Ukraine.  For the past 2 centuries, everyone living here was Jewish, until WWII.  There used to be 80 synagogues in a city of 100,000, but now there are only 18.  And about 600 Jews.  But apparently every September a slew of them come in from everywhere, because a famous Hasidic is buried in the Jewish cemetary outside of town.  So that's an interesting tidbit, no?  Other than that, it's a super quiet town.  Very laid back and chill, although that could be because it's the summer.  And it definately has a small town feel to it.  So we'll see what happens.  

My living conditions at the moment are actually pretty bad.  The apartment I'm in is super squishy and really dirty, so much so that I'm afraid to take a shower!  But that'll change tomorrow, hopefully.  I'm hoping that the house outside of town in the next village over is cool, even though it doesn't have running water.  I'll take going to a well and taking cold baths to living in a shithole any day!

The organization I'm working with is very small.  It's kinda like a mom and pop organization, except more mother and daughter than mom and pop.  Next weekend is "Children's Day", "Town Day" and some other day that I can't remember the name of, so it's going to be one big party!  I've been volunteered to partake in a city-wide scavenger hunt that Luba, my counterpart, organized.  I think my friend Val, who's in a village of 600 people and is pretty near me, is coming in for it too.  But everyone's very excited to be working with me.  The's city's hosted tons of volunteers before, so no one stares or anything, but everyone still knows everyone's business.  Before I even got here, people knew I was coming.  And I've already met the most important people:  My counterpart, her family, an English teacher who's tutoring me in Russian, and the coffee lady across the street from the office.  She knows me by name because Luba officially introduced me.

One last thing. . . I have a mailing address!!!!  Write me!!!!

Jessie Salpeter

A/C No 6

Berdychiv 1

Zhytomyrska 13301

Ukraine

Let the mailing begin!!!

Interesting. . .

I've learned a few things since being here, but of course, every day I learn something more. For instance, last Friday I learned that while there are no real inner cities here in Chirnigiv, there are, in fact, people that like to dress ghetto circa 1993. I also learned the hard way that Ukrainians do not like you to be dressed in wet clothes, even if it's a million degrees out, and they will stop at nothing to keep it that way. Let me explain.

Last Friday, the Ukrainian national team was playing Croatia in a soccer match. Of course, I wanted to watch, so Rachel and I go to the bar near her house to watch the game. When we get there, there's a DJ playing a sweet mix of 90's hip hop that's keeping us dancing and bobbing while watching the game. We're sitting having a beer and chilling and watching us some soccer when a bunch of 20 year olds walk in, look all thug like. I swear, if you all could see them, your eyes would drop and you'd have this confused face. . .

These kids were dressed in super, ultra baggy clothes, complete with g-string showing in the back. And of course, there was the one chick dressed hoochy mama. Usually, I wouldn't take notice, but then it occurred to me that there isn't a "ghetto culture" in a 10,000 mile radius! But more to the point. . . no one, but NO ONE wears a Lakers jersey with a Mets hat. That's just not allowed. I wanted to point this out, but then we noticed that these guys were coming in by the bunchful! And there, to my surprise and delight, were the Ukrainian versions of Tupac, Kanye, and Eminem. . . all in one place! What a joy to watch a soccer game AND the people watching the game, all in one shot!

You thought I was kidding. . . didn't you?

Now, on to lesson 2. . . and pay attention. On Sunday, our language group hosted a BBQ for our host families as a thank you. It was at a local Ukrainian restaurant that had a tent outside that we rented out. It was really nice until it started to rain. And not just rain but hail! So me, Galya, and my host sister Nastya are outside, bearing the weather, to finish cooking the chicken (which no one else wanted to cook so we volunteered), and when all the chicken was cooked, we walk inside the tent. I'm soaked, but it's cool because it was super humid and hot out. But NOOO. . . that's not acceptable. As soon as I walk in the tent, Rachel's host mom, Valya, walks over to me, in Russian saying, "Jessee-ka, you're wet, you'll catch a cold, this is not okay", grabs the bottom of my t-shirt, and literally strips in off of me. . . IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE GROUP AND THEIR FAMILIES! So there I am, in my sports bra, in front of everyone and their families, and she comes over and makes me put on her jacket while my shirt dries. Mind you, I had my own jacket and kept saying that, but for some reason it was insisted that I wear hers. She actually wanted to take it home and wash my shirt, but I refused, and later, when the sun came out, I dried it a bit and put it back on, to her dismay. All of this, as a sidenote (DAD) is without any vodka being consumed by yours truly. Only after I had been violated by Rachel's host mom did I decide that now would be the appropriate time to begin drinking. And now, for some pics. . .

Sometimes PC Volunteers gotta do anything to make ends meet

The hail

Shots were needed. . .

PS. It's hotter than Hades here. . . I feel like I'm in DC during the summer! For those of you who know what that feels like, you all know how much I want to just walk around naked all day and jump in a cold pool. But alas. . .. I cannot. Apparently there are only 2 tempuratures here. . . . humid and blazing hot, and cold and friggin' Antarctica.

Yes, SOME stories don't involve alcohol

My dad this week posed a very interesting question:  “Do any of your stories NOT involve alcohol?!”  So, to appease my father, who I’m sure at this point is either extremely impressed that I can drink my weight in vodka or fears for my liver (possibly both), I give you a half-and-half entry.  One story involves a party, a toilet, a camera and, of course, vodka.  The other involves this weird thing that looked like a blob on my eye that I called a permanent booger.

I’ll start with the booger.  About a week ago, I saw something that looked like a piece of clear jelly in my eye.  After calling the Peace Corps doctor and trying medication, it wasn’t going away.  So yesterday I skipped language class and went all my myself into Kiev to see the doctor.  Dr. Sasha (we call the Peace Corps doctors by their first names) said he had never seen anything like that before, and after a few hours of me hanging out in the Peace Corps lounge and finding some awesome stuff in the “finder’s keepers” box, we set out for the eye doctor.  We walk down the long corridor in the Militia Hospital on the other side of town, and I’m told to sit in a chair in the hallway outside of a random door.  Sasha tells me to follow him in finally, and he talks to the doctor in Russian.  She looks at my eye, says something and goes away.  While she’s gone, Sasha turns to me and says, “you have a conjunctiaval cyst on your eyeball.  Actually 3.  It’s very common, apparently, but they have to pop them”.  Come again?!!!  So the doctor comes back, puts some awesome numbing drops in my eye, and tells me to look a certain way while she’s staring through a microscope at my eyeball.  Then all of a sudden I see a needle, she wipes away some sort of fluid, and boom.   Done.  We went back to the Peace Corps office while my eye drop prescription was getting filled and I did some online research and really by "cyst" what they really meant was "blister".  Equally as gross.  Don't ask me how I managed that.  

So now, boys a girls, I have to wear glasses for the next 2 weeks while I take these eyedrops 4 times a day that’s going to make my eye feel better.  The funny thing is that now that it feels better, the other one feels crappy in comparison.  But I’ll be damned if I get a needle stuck in that eye too!  One eye at a time!  At least I got some taco mix, fajita seasoning, a sweet sweater, and a sleeping bag out of my trip to Kiev as well.

On a similarly amusing note, we finished our final project with MoZART Tuesday afternoon with a half-day workshop on how to diversify funding sources for an NGO. The workshop was a success and because the director loves us, he invited us to the organization picnic that was that afternoon.   Vitaly, the Director, was also getting ready to go on vacation for a few weeks, so the party was sort of a good-bye/thank you volunteers/thank you staff party.  Let the picnic, food and toasts begin.  After about 2 rounds of toasts (a round=3 shots…so after 6 shots of vodka), or “suggestions” as our Ukrainian friends were referring to them as, we started to play some games including charades and some type of dancing/singing game. We were all feeling nice and sociable, and Rachel’s bladder was full.  So she, Mike and I head to the outhouse (which is literally a hole in the ground. . . see where I’m going with this?) There were two toilets, so me, being the generous soul, let Mike and Rachel go first.  And then I hear a “plunk” and a very loud “oh shit!”  The rest shall be told as I remember it (through the uncontrollable laughter that almost made me pee my pants)

Rachel: Fuck! My fucking camera just fell in the shitter! Jessie what do I do?!

Me: Leave it!

Rachel: Leave it?!!!  No way man!  Those are my precious memories on that camera!!! Mike help me!  Find something to get it out with!

Mike: (Mike runs to the nearby trees) Here, take a stick.

Rachel: Okay thanks!  (Rachel squatting over the toilet, trying to grab the strap of the camera covered in poop with a stick.  Man, I wish I had MY camera!!  She finally gets it, and wouldn’t you know it, the camera slides off the stick and back into the toilet)

Mike and Me: Rachel what are you doing?!

She finally pulls the camera out of the toilet with the stick and it is all shitty (the puns could go on all day)

Rachel: Mike quick! I have some toilet paper in my bag go get it for me so I can wash it off!

Mike: Oh Jesus. Okay. 

At this point, instead of getting the TP, Mike promptly runs to where Elizabeth and Jason are screaming, “JASON!  Rachel just dropped her camera in the shitter!”, turns around and bolts back to where Rachel’s bag is.  Where am I this whole time?  Watching Rachel a laughing. . . of course.  Mike comes back with something better than toilet paper…paper towel!

Mike: Here ya go Rachel. .  I can’t believe you just did that.

So, she walks up the stairs all the while saying, “ew ew ew”, washed off the camera in the sink.  Mad props to that girl. She disinfected her hands about 4 times, but I still wouldn’t shake her hand.  Ew.  Moral of this story?  Don’t bring your camera to the bathroom with you.  Duh.