A One Up on Rachel's Camera Story

How can someone one up a "camera falling into the shitter" story? Well, by someone (aka. me, the dummy) dropping their wallet into the shitter. That's right ladies and gentlemen, I managed to out do my friend! And of course, I couldn't just leave it there, because I had a lot of money in it, all my credit cards, and my REI discount card (don't laugh. . . that's going to come in handy one day).

Funnily enough, as I was telling Rachel last night on the phone, the conversation was surprisingly similar to when she dropped her camera in the outhouse (although this time it was just me and Chuvak, my dog, around). Here's how the conversation went:

Plop
Me: FUCK!
Chuvak:

Me: Chuvak, go get a stick!
Chuvak:

Me: Well shit, you're no help. . .

I run to get rubber gloves from my medical kit, because lord knows that a farm wouldn't have any sticks around.

Me: Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew
Chuvak:

Needlesss to say that Chuvak wasn't really that helpful, except for eating the dishsoap that I initially rinsed everything off with, and trying to steal shoes from my house. BUT, after much washing with dishsoap, rinsing, and re-washing with this amazing surgical scrub that Peace Corps (the geniuses) gave us, I am proud to announce that nothing that was in that wallet smells anything like poop! Only like dish soap and antibacterial wash.

Moral of the story is. . . if you're ever going to squat to go to the potty, no matter where you are, empty your pockets of everything valuable. The second moral is always carry latex gloves around with you everywhere. Lord knows they come in handy!!!

Ps. As it turns out, I'm not moving for another month, because every place we looked at I'd be living with an older lady who just happens to have an extra room in their house. And lord knows that I don't want to do a home stay for the next 2 years. . . that just isn't right. So, Chuvak and I will be chilling at our house until a better solution arises. . . which may be never. But it's cool. I'm starting to get used to my little house with the well. If only the outhouse had a seat. .. . then I wouldn't even have to worry about losing anything in it!

Good 'Ol Joe

So, I'm in Kiev right now and just finished hearing Joe Biden speak and got to shake his hand. He was meeting with the President and Prime Minister of Ukraine today so Peace Corps invited all volunteers who wanted to come to stay the night in Kiev (on them) and hear him speak at the new Hyatt (which, by the way, is SUPER posh!) We got to the Hyatt (we weren't staying there) at around 8:30am, and were literally waiting for 2 hours for a 15 minute speech. Very anticlimatic, but honestly, I was looking forward to seeing Rachel, Elizabeth, and my other buddies from training rather than haering Joe speak. So I got to see all my friends from all over the country (who I haven't seen in a month), which was nice. And I'm extending my visit for another night to see people longer, so tonight 6 or us are renting an apartment for the night so we can just chill in there. And then I go back to Berychiv tomorrow.

I actually haven't been at sight much in the past few weeks because I was working a camp last week in a little village about 3 hours outside of Berdychiv. I forgot how much I love being a counselor. I swear, when I grow up and get back to the States I am going to be a professional landsports counselor. I'm not even kidding. It was so much fun! Complete with a bonfire at night with the other volunteers staying at the camp, drunken debauchery at night, real breakfasts including eggs and french toast and peanut butter and honey, and family dinners. So much fun! Oh, and the kids were great too. No seriously. I had to teach a bunch of Ukrainians from ages 10-15 how to throw a baseball, and the theory and practice of baseball as a sport. The things we take for granted- everyone in the US knows what an "out" is. . . in theory, so do the Ukrainians, but in practice it's a different story. They loved it though, and came back later in the day after camp was over just to play catch. It gave me a warm fuzzy feeling all over. . . or maybe that was the intense burn I got from being outside all day for 5 days straight. Best farmer's tan ever!

The last exciting thing is I'm moving! I don't know where. . . I don't know when, but I know it's going to happen. I get back to Berdychiv tomorrow. . . chances are with my luck I'll have to move on Thursday. But who knows.

Hooker Landlord

That's right!  I have a prostitute as a landlord!  Granted, this is a theory right now, but let me tell you why:

a)  there have been at least 5 men over the age of 50 (my landlord is about 20 and according to my friend Val doesn't wear enough clothes for the amount of skin she shows) knocking on my door at various times during the evening, including once at 4am.  I ignored them and they didn't get the hint that "no one was home" and kept knocking for an hour.

b)  as I've told many of you, the walls between my part of the house and my landlord's are very thin.  Because of this, unfortunately, I can hear everything (EVERYTHING) that happens in her house.  More unfortunately, there have been various nights when I have to fall asleep to the sounds of noises that one doesn't want to hear unless one is part of those acts.  These noises started once the music problem (my landlord was blasting her music at midnight and later and was keeping me up) stopped.  I kind of want to to start playing the music again.

c)  The woman is never home.  She leave early in the morning dressed in nothing (granted Ukrainian women always dress in nothing, but she's particularly bad), and doesn't get home until late night (sometimes not at all), at which time reason B begins.  

Because of all these reasons, especially reason A, the Peace Corps has deemed my house unsafe to live in.  No one wants random people knocking at your door at all times of the day, and looking for someone who doesn't live there.  In addition, who knows what would happen if they find out I'm an American?  So, at the end of this month, I'm moving (again).  Who knows to where. . . . it's a pity because I was finally getting used to my little house!  Oh well, maybe I'll be in town so I can actually possibly do stuff after 8pm, when the buses to my village stop running. 

Happy 4th of July!

Happy 4th of July everyone! This 4th was definately different than last, for sure. Instead of sitting at the beach, drinking beer, bbq-ing, and getting beyond drunk with my pals up, I instead went 45 minutes by bus to the Oblast center of Zhytomir, where there are 2 other volunteers (one of which is a professional cook, the other a professional pain). So Heather (the other volunteer at my site) and I went and met up with the other 6 volunteers from our Oblast to go to an English club meeting that Nancy had baked an American flag cake (you have no idea what heaven that cake was, becuase you can't get real cake over here. .. . ) for that day's class, conveniently themed of American Independence Day. The teacher there was a Ukrainian who had planned all these games for the people who came, including a quiz game, in which I didn't know any of the answers (I mean, really. . . who knew that another name for the "4th of July" was "the Glorious 4th"!) After that, All 7 volunteers in the Oblast decided to meet up at Nancy's (the professional cook), because somehow through her connections she had acquired real American hot dogs!!! It was awesome! We sat in her apartment, because it was raining, ate REAL hot dogs, drank beer, and she made potato salad and cole slaw. It was the most American meal I've had since I've been here!

Other than that, things are going fine. Last week was rough though. It's hard being in a place where you have to tell the people you're working with everything that you're doing all the time. It got to the point last week that I told them I was going to the bathroom, and literally, one of them asked "Do you need me to come with you?" No, I'm okay. I can wipe my own butt, thanks. I understand that they're responsible for my doings and whereabouts. I get that. But there's got to be some sort of line between, "where are you" and "because you don't speak the language you're an idiot and can't do anything". Or maybe it's a cultural thing? Either way, because I'm not one to just complain about something without getting something done about it, I confronted the people in my organization last week and told them that I don't mind reporting into them, but in America I was very capable of being on my own and being independent, and it's very difficult for me to not be like that here, and can they be a little less micro-managing (I didn't say those exact words, because my Russian's not THAT good yet)? And that was the end of that! Next hurdle to jump over- telling my landlord, who lives in the other half of my house, to a) turn down the music after 11pm and b) maybe have sex at her boyfriends house for a change? Those walls are SUPER thin!!! I feel like I'm in NYC again (actually, even in NY it wasn't that bad because I was in the back of the apt, so I couldn't hear anything).

So, that's pretty much my life right now. . . oh, and in addition to the dog I now have a cat and another dog lingering outside my door, and anytime I keep the door open, they just wander in and chill with me. The term "mi casa es su casa" couldn't apply more!