Little tidbits

I’ve noticed that Berdychiv, while small, is pretty progressive. There are AIDS/HIV billboards and ads all over the place, and aside from the lack of racial diversity, the ethnic diversity here is amazing. Which means that aside from other places, where you can only find Ukrainian food everywhere you go, you can actually find other types of food here. Okay, okay, nothing TOO different, but there’s an Uzbekistani place here! I know, I know, who the hell knows what that entails, but all I can say is that it’s a different type of salty fried food. Have I persuaded anyone to come a visit yet? ☺For the record, I'm hoping to help aide the progressiveness along. One of the projects I'm going to start working on is opening up "safe zones" all over the city, where youth can come and ask questions and be who they are, with no questions asked, and no discriminition or judgement. I feel like in a lot of places this may not work, but here. . . it totally would. Any other ideas for projects to do with youth, pass them my way!

Other than that, nothing new to report. I just figured I should write and let everyone know that I’m still alive. I’m not sure if I’m getting texts from the States right now (I know I’m not getting some of them). But yes, I’m alive! Oh! Short story- Heather (my sitemate) and saw an amazing site yesterday. We had just gotten off the marshutka (bus) and were chatting while walking to one of her coworkers’ houses, and I think I was talking about something geeky, like musical theory or something. All of a sudden her attention turns to this dude fixing his car. I turn to see what the big deal and then I notice. .. . he’s not wearing any pants! Only camo colored tightie whities. Then he goes into his car and picks up a mini Ukrainian flag. So here’s this guy, in a sleeveless mesh shirt, wearing tightie whities, and holding a Ukrainian flag. No wonder she was distracted! This disturbing site made me want to drink vodka-not a whole bottle like the guy last week who then drunkly proposed to me and promised that we would live happily in New York (he's 55 and married. . but shhh. . . don't tell the little Mrs.). But then I came to my senses and remembered what happens when copious amounts of vodka is consumed by yours truly (insert your own ideas of what might happen when me, who's nuts enough with no alcohol, is considerably more crazy).

USSR rules

This weekend was an interesting one. We had a training on volunteerism last week in Kiev and afterwards Rachel and our friend Val came to Berdychiv to hang out for the weekend. Of course you all know what that means. . . the usual madness of getting drunk in my little house and making fajitas (like, real fajitas, with McCormicks mix- something we don’t have over here and get very excited when someone gives us some). Yesterday we went to Zytomir (which is 45 minutes from my house) to meet up with some of Val’s friends because they all wanted to meet Rachel and I. So, we knew going into the day that we would be drinking. . . a lot. Val might have mentioned that the 3 boys were anti-American and pro USSR, but I kinda took that with a grain of salt. 4 liters of vodka (between 8 of us) and 5 hours later, I found myself standing on this guy Denis’ balcony, having an intense conversation about the USSR. So, let me educate you on what I learned:

-USSR was the best region in the world
-Communism as a theory is great, but in practice never works. Instead, the USSR should’ve been following the Nordic states and practicing Socialism instead
-The history of not only Russian rockets in space, but American rockets too (that’s right. I had no clue)
-The French-Russo relationship of the 18 and 19th centuries were extremely influencial when discussing Russian politics and culture.
-Nameless Russian authors and musicians that I have to read and listen to, including Boris something, who was the rock and roll revolutionary of Russia in the 1970’s
-The newer Star Wars movies are the best because they focus on “creating an empire” and less on the “love story” crap.

And last but not least, the best lesson I’ve learned is that there guys were very, VERY well educated, and enjoyed having conversations about history and science. And the fact that after 4 liters we could still carry on said conversations. I’m not sure that’s a good thing because I’m learning the language, or a bad thing because that means my liver is going to fail at some point.

Kluch vid mista

Look at the sign I made! Everyone thought my attempt at graffiti was "interesting". Apparently it wasn't pretty enough

Oh where to begin. . . well, today my organization put on a “city-wide” event. This being Ukraine and over the top, extravagant, and sometimes ridiculous associated with Ukrainians, I had no clue what to expect. The only thing I knew for sure was that after the games were over, there would be sandwiches (which I was supposed to help make) and tons and tons of beer. But shag z shaggom (step by step).

Heather and I arrived at the opposite side of town from anything at 9 in the morning. We had both brought our cameras because we knew we were to be the “photographers”. Not that our services were needed, because everyone and their mother in this country has a camera, takes shit tons of pictures, AND doesn’t mind standing directly in front of you while taking their pictures, which, I must say, they think are far superior to ours, but I’m convinced that’s because they like flashy. I’m not flashy (duh). I’m too artsy for them. Anyhoo, we came cameras in hand ready to take pictures, and followed everyone around while they were doing their activities. These activities included an introductory skit to each team (all the teams were picked ahead of time), a relay race in the military base (I’ll get to that later), and some other stuff I don’t know because that’s the point I start making the millions of sandwiches.

So let’s talk about the relay race, since that’s really the only thing I saw. The race was that one person was to get out of the cot, dress in army gear, including boots, and be dressed to the approval of a military officer (who was standing there watching). That person would the run to a table about 10 feet away and tag their teammate, who had to disassemble an AK47. Once the gun was disassembled, the next person had to open a pouch with a gas mask and run to a stretcher with another teammate lying on it. One of the other teammates had to them split the “injured’s” leg, pick up the stretcher, and run back to another teammate, who was to reassemble the AK 47. First one to do all that wins. Now that I’ve explained, let’s back up the point where civilians (everyday Joes) are DISASSEMBLING AND REASSEMBLING GUNS!!! What was totally surprising is that before the relay started, everyone got a practice chance with the gun.. . and everyone (EVERYONE) knew how to do it!! I didn’t know whether to be impressed or scared shitless. . . I opted for scared shitless. So, after the relay I went inside. Lord knows I needed a beer.

So do all Ukrainians. And by god they will have their beer! Once we set up the banquet hall, we realized that no one had brought a bottle opener (I had one on my keychain but that was locked in another room). So I said, “uh oh. That’s not good”. Heather promptly turns to me and very calmly says, “oh don’t worry. They will figure out ways to get their beer”. Man was she right! They did everything from open the bottles on the backs of chairs, to using lighters (both normal in my mind) to using teeth when they had them (a little less normal). I actually saw a guy open a beer with another beer bottle! THAT’S what I call impressed!

So, at the end of the day I learned something- don’t mess with Ukrainians because they all know how to assemble an AK47, and if ever in need of opening a beer, find a Ukrainian, because they will stop at nothing to get their beer!

Assemble that gun, lady!

Making sandwiches

Check out all the beer!

My Birthday

I’d say this was probably on the list of “funnest birthdays to date”. On Saturday, I, with a 6 other volunteers went rock climbing. The cliffs we were climbing were level 5 out of level 7. I didn’t make it to the top because I’m friggin out of shape, but I tried 3 times. So by the 3^rd time I was about to die, and my arms felt like jelly. But the way I figure it. . . if I made it halfway 3 times, that means I made it up 1 and a half time! How’s that for logic! After that, we all went down a makeshift zip line. When the trainers were preparing the zip line, they were doing a demo, and I overheard them talking, and Pasha whispers to Igor, “are you scared to go down this?” and Igor replied, “a little”. NOT reassuring! But, I took to the bull by the horns, overcame my fear of heights, and totally did it!!!

On my actually birthday, me, Val, Heather, my counterpart Luba and her family went to a park in Berdychiv and went shashlicking. It was so much fun! I brought my guitar, we had sandwiches and pork kabobs (after I found out it was pork, I really didn’t want to eat them, but I figured it would be rude not to eat them, and man, were they good! Tasted like chicken!), drank some wine, it was awesome! I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful day, and was surrounded by cheery people and personalities.

Thanks to all of you who called and emailed! I love you all! Pictures to follow. I swear.

Ziplining

The Cliff

My Birthday Picnic (from the left: Kristina, Me, Val, Heather, Oksana) with the largest watermelon I've ever seen!

Sergei taking care of the shashlick meat

Guitaring while waiting for the meat to cook

Way to jinx me, Dad

I talked to my dad today and was telling him how since I've been at site I've been sooooo good about drinking! Seriously. . . maybe a beer or two in a month and a half. Not bad right?

And what happens? As soon as I get off the phone, my landlord comes to my doors and asks if I was to drink with her and her friends. So, here are the points I'd like to make about this evening:

-My landlord might have been a hooker back in the day, and has a son, who's father seems to be "missing".
-She's not one anymore and is an honest farmer and super friendly
-Her friends are hilarious, probably younger than me, but very funny
-Ukrainians like to hear people play the guitar. . . even if they have no clue what the song is about. Seriously, you could be singing a song about f-ing some dude in the back of a car with a vegetable (or something grosser if your imagination can handle it), and if it's played well and with a pretty melody, they'll totally sit back and love it. Actually, come to think of it, if it's a Ukrainian song with the same meaning, as long as it has a nice melody, it might pass as "normal" ("I kissed a girl" is of course excluded in this, because God forbid that any of that exists in this country). Anyhoo, moral of the story is, my landlord's a-okay.

And I think I"m going to ask to stay in my house. I'm getting used to the village life, and now that Luda and I are starting to be civil and she's around alot more, and her friends are cool, being here won't be so bad, I think (and it'll be cheaper for everyone).