The American Dream... what does it all mean?

Yesterday, I received a phone call from my temp agency while I was at work. Although we're not allowed to use our phones in the room where we work, I always have mine nearby and on vibrate in case it is a phone call I need to answer. Being that this call was from the temp agency through which I have my current employment, I thought I'd better leave the room to speak to them. I answered, and the conversation was as follows:

Me: Hello?

Temp. Agency Employment Counselor (i.e. TAEC for the rest of this post): "Hi, Alia, this is Persephone (name changed for sake of my internet reputation) from XYZ Temp Agency. I'm just calling to let you know that I forgot to have you sign two sheets of paper, so I'm gonna need you to come in sometime soon and sign those. Are you able to stop by today and do that?"

Me: Actually, as it happens, I'm working right now.

TAEC: Oh, right, you're working for ____. Well, what we could do is have you come in at 6 in the morning tomorrow; the office opens at 6 and there will be someone here.

Me: Actually, could we do this by mail or by email? It would be pretty hard for me to get from my town to where your office is located, and make it to work on time, all while during rush hour.

TAEC: Nah, we're gonna have to have you do it in person. It'll take 2 seconds, and if you could just swing by, that would be great. They're your payroll forms so they're really important, and we're gonna need those signatures on there, 'kay?

Me: (too surprised by the fact that this conversation seems at all logical to TAEC to respond) Alright, I'll see what I can do. Thanks.

I sat at my desk, angry and completely stunned. It's not simply the fact that I was going to have to wake up at five in order to correct a mistake that I was not responsible for. That's a first-world, tiny problem in the grand scheme of things. It would not be much of a hardship at all to drink some extra black water/caffeine combination that our bodies run on like gasoline, get into my car with the heater on to envelop myself in a contained environment shielding me from the morning cold, and barrel down the highway to a rectangular office building to lift my hand and sign my name. I could handle that; I would not die. No, it was, of course, the principle of the matter that angered me. How is it that a salaried, full-time employee at a multi-million corporation can make a mistake, and then treat the hourly-waged pawn piece of a temp, the one working for the client, that way? How was it my responsibility to drive (at least!) an hour and a half to put my signature on these forgotten forms? Because I have been in a grim state as of late, due to many factors, I dramatized the situation in my head, resulting in thoughts about our country and the growing normalcy of temp agencies. After about half an hour of working while seething, I called the agency back. The conversation:

Lady at Front Desk (LFD): Good morning, you've reached ______; this is Janice (rather than use her actual name, I'll use the name I gave the voice of my GPS), how may I help you?

Me: (explained the previous conversation with Persephone) So, I was wondering who I should contact to request compensation for my time and for the gas.

LFD: What's your name?

Me: (spelled out my name) Are you sure it isn't possible to do this by mail?

LFD: Oh, I see you live in the town of R and work in the town of P. Correct?

Me: Yes. And with rush hour traffic, it would be nearly impossible to make it to work in time.

LFD: Well, unfortunately we cannot offer you compensation. What we can do is send you to another one of our offices that is on the way from your town of R. to the town of P. Would that work for you? I can speak with them to make sure someone will be there before your working hours, and we'll get back to you later today.

Me: Sure, that is definitely more manageable. I appreciate your help!

A few hours later, I hadn't heard back, so during one of our breaks, I called, and Persephone answered. She said that she had been "given the information," and would be in touch with me shortly.

Work ended, and I checked my voice mail. After Persephone, Janice, and whoever else got involved in this Complicated Form Signing Matter had had the day to mull over this issue, the message on my voice mail from Persephone was as follows (I still have the message, so here's a pretty accurate transcription):

Hi this is Persephone from _____. I'm just calling - um, just wanna follow up with you. I'm gonna mail those forms that you have to sign. I'm gonna mail them to you. I'm gonna put my card in the envelope, so when you sign them, just shoot em back and mail them back to me and we'll be good to go. If you have any questions, just call _________. Thank you. Bye."

No, none of this is truly the American Dream. Who is actually happy to be living this scenario? It's not the American Dream for someone spending half a day figuring out the logic of using the postal service to fix their mistake. However, the American Dream as we know it is actually, in reality, quite unhappy (2.5 children - come on, half a child would not be ideal now, would it?, a large house that we hardly are in to enjoy, a one man and one woman family, 50% of the time resulting in divorce, one automobile per person, a safe, 8-hour job in an air-conditioned, clean office, being protected by a health insurance company that, in fact, makes its money off of denying the "care" it promises) is rapidly resulting in millions of people finding themselves dependent on a third party to ease their financial stress. The temp agency, as I have discovered from many conversations since returning from the Peace Corps, is becoming the way to financial stability for so many people. Companies love temps; they get work done cheaply without needing to provide benefits.

The American Dream has taken a small handful of our population far, setting them at the top. At risk of sounding like a bitter 20-something-year-old hipster: Corporations are eating us alive right now. They didn't necessarily in the past, not to this degree. But now, our population is larger, corporations are more resource-consuming yet not paying the taxes that would replenish those resources they use (need examples? I can write a list, but not here - I should at least attempt to stay on topic), and we're becoming more and more dependent on the mercy of said corporations, such as temporary agencies, to survive. And, slowly but surely, people equal chess pieces in the large-scale, patriarchal family of a nation that we are.

(Oh, and for the record, today was my last day working with this temp agency; therefore, I do not mind putting this post up right now.)

For the last three months, I lived in New York City with a cousin of mine. Inspired by a human wearing a unicorn mask walking around an ordinary, urban setting (I think I saw it on YouTube), I decided to grace Times Square one night with my sheep/human presence.

You have two sisters and a brother; I'm your sister in America. I'm 27, and you're around 35. All I know about you, besides your approximate age, is that your name is "Johnny" (maybe Johann?), you're from Germany, and your mother's name is Margarita (although, I don't know how she spells it.) She also has red hair.

So... maybe someday you'll Google the name Fawaz Khusaifan (or Khesaifan, or Khisaifan, or Alkhusaifan) out of curiosity, and you'll see this. I don't know him, and our sister barely knows him anymore. He doesn't seem to want anything to do with his children, and that's his loss. But the siblings should know each other.

This is pretty personal information, I know, but I decided to write something that the whole internet would have access to, cause you never know, right? :)

Right now I'm living right in Times Square with my cousin (temporarily, while she studies here) and I was expecting to meet, talk to, walk past, and be inspired by awesome, successful people who have somehow made it big in New York. I've met several of those people and I feel very fortunate to know them. On the other hand, what I wasn't expecting was the sheer number of (insert explicit adjectives here) businessmen, lawyers, etc. who one would think should be educated and well-spoken, but who seem to be the complete opposite. How have they landed these high-power positions with most likely enviable salaries when they talk like this (quotes to follow)? I never would even feel one ounce of desire to aspire to be anything like them. This aspect of our society utterly disgusts me. There are nurses all over the country who keep people alive while working 12-hour shifts, and there are teachers who work for everybody but themselves. Neither the nurses or the teachers are even close to being respected as much as they should, and the pay certainly reflects that. I'm beating a dead horse here, I know, but being in the middle of this BS every day has been so eye-opening and frustrating. I'm going to start a list of quotes I've been lucky enough to get the pleasure of involuntarily eavesdropping on (said by the so-called powerful, successful folk in New York.) These quotes just happened to all be uttered by men in suits who are probably in their late-30s to late-50s.

-"I took a dump first thing this morning, at like 7:00' and you know what I did next?"

-"I rebounded like super f***ing hardcore with this girl, like this skinny blond piece of ass."

-"So, you know, all these people are, like, investing, and, like, I dunno, it's gettin pretty crazy."

-"I'm going to invest in a bottle of grapefruit vodka because my wife's being a nagging b****.

To be continued, unfortunately...

On December 1st, I finished Peace Corps and headed to India for eight days. One of my best friends, Heidi, is doing an internship at the Sangam World Center in Pune, about four hours from Mumbai. To try to describe those eight days is going to be tough (I keep putting off this blog because of that), but I'll do my best.

The December heat in India was unlike any other type of hot climate I had ever felt. I've been in a few hot climates before: Florida, southern California, and Israel, but the heat of those places feels a lot different. Although it wasn't summer, I now understand the term "Indian summer." It's this spicy kind of hot there - you are immediately enveloped in heat through all your senses - the smells of the air, exhaust, food, and most of all, people, hit you right away. There are SO many people - yes, it is a well-known fact that India is home to 1.3 billion people, but it is a different story when actually there. That is when you see HOW that population is possible in one country - there seemed to be a person within a foot (or less) of me in every direction I turned, at all times.

And there is so much color! There are the green palm trees, the tan baboons on the side of the streets, the multi-colored saris or kurtas or scarves on almost all of the women, fruit stands, painted vehicles, painted walls, flowers, dirt, puddles, cars, rickshaws, horses, motorcycles of all colors (motorcycles and rickshaws are the main vehicles that take up the streets), brown skin, black hair, henna, bright signs.

After leaving my bandura (my Ukrainian instrument - a gift from my school at the end of my Peace Corps service) with a woman outside of the airport to be put into storage for the week, I saw my name on a sign among all the people waiting for the recent arrivals. I got in the car and we started the drive to Pune, a city four hours from Mumbai, where I flew into. On the way, that's where I saw the baboons, and I saw cliffs, new kinds of trees, hills, and the dark blue Arabian Sea. I forced myself to stay awake for most of the drive so I wouldn't miss anything.

PUNE

We got to Pune in the evening, the city that I stayed in for the first few days, and the driver asked rickshaw drivers, motorcycle drivers, shopkeepers, and pedestrians for "bes Alandi? Bes Alandi?" We were trying to find the Sangam World Center where my friend works, on Alandi Road. After maybe 45 minutes, we found it; the gate guard let us drive up to the door of the center, and after paying the driver and walking toward the door, I could already hear Heidi's voice. Yep, same Heidi as always. :) I was relieved to see (or hear) that. After our loud, screaming, hugging reunion (in front of about ten people), Heidi got out a bunch of food from the fridge and I got to have my first curry in over two years. The spices were perfect, although a shock to my system after more than two years of a Ukrainian diet (actually, we'd had Indian food on the airplane on the way to Mumbai, so my body was already hating me while my taste buds were loving me.) Eating Indian food in India is spectacular.

So, after the rice, curry, naan and salad, we went to the doctor for Heidi to have her ear looked at. Heidi's friend (now my friend too) Hayley came too. The doctor's office is in a tiny little house a couple blocks away, with a small divider between the waiting benches and the table where the doctor sat, talking to the patients. For 60 Rupees, Heidi had her ear looked at and was prescribed several medications for what may have been an ear infection or just a blocked ear, which we were able to get at the pharmacy across the highway. The reason I'm even including the doctor's visit in the blog is that this is the first time (other than when I lived in Japan as a child) that I have been stared at/ been admired/have caused fascination or curiosity simply because of my skin color. It was a really interesting feeling, and I think I was more surprised by the realization that I had never really experienced that (I don't count the years in Japan, since I was too young to understand why people were always looking at me) than by the fact that people were staring at me. A father kept nudging and whispering to his 3-year-old son to approach me; a woman with a baby sat, beaming at me non-stop; people passing the office on the street looked in and said hello and wanted to touch my hand.

After getting back to Sangam, Heidi and I sat out in the December heat (that sounds like such an oxymoron to this Minnesotan!) in the garden on the big wooden swing with our lime soda and gulab jamun from the sweet shop - conveniently next to the doctor's office - until around midnight.

The next day I went for a walk with Heidi to accompany her on some errands, we met up with Saga (who also works in Pune); we stopped at a coconut stand, then back to Sangam, started Heidi's scrapbook, had chai several times, and then Hayley, Heidi and I went to the tailor to pick up Heidi's finished dress. Heidi set herself on fire not too long ago, ruining one of her favorite saris. So her solution was to take the material to the tailor, who rescued the non-burned part and now the sari has been morphed into a dress for Heidi. I bought a pretty brown kurta, put it on at some point (or maybe not - I can't remember), and then we made a night of it and went to an amazing restaurant. We had lamb and chicken and a lot of types of bread and rice. The chocolate restaurant nearby couldn't be neglected, so we drank various hot and cold chocolate beverages out of "Love Me" and "Hold Me" cups. It was a good day.

After eight of the best hours of sleep I had had in a very long time, the next morning and afternoon was filled with food, scrapbooking, relaxing in the garden, a rickshaw ride to the main street in Pune, getting tempted at the mall by fish pedicures, though not doing it (but hey, if I ever get a pedicure in my life, it'd better involve fish sucking on my feet), an amazing, crowded, vibrant open-air cafe with more spicy, amazing, perfect food, and above all, people, rickshaws, and motorcycles everywhere.

Back at Sangam, my debit card decided not to work for some reason, but in the end I'm glad it didn't, because it got me out of the building (alone) and I walked around that area of the city for quite some time looking for an ATM and really getting more of a feel of where I was. I stopped at the same coconut stand; she remembered me and I was blown away by her beaming smile - such a welcoming sight. Although I love Ukraine with all my heart and am super patriotic to it now, anyone who has spent time there will understand that it was extremely refreshing to be in the midst of smiling strangers when I went to India.

That night began the epic journey to begin what would be an unforgettable few days in Amritsar.

We took our rickshaws to the airport (by this point I was getting used to rickshaws but I still think they're fun, no matter how many times I go on them), and our flight to Dehli was just a couple hours. We had a few hours to wait at the Dehli train station before our train to Amritsar, so we played Flux, and then I found Masala Cheetos and we joined the party out on our train platform for about an hour. I caught a really bad cold at some point that night, but other than that, the train ride was really comfortable. It was like platzkart in Ukraine but with three bunks on each side. And the bed was already made! At least mine was, because I think someone had just been sleeping in it, but that didn't bother me - I slept well other than the occasional being woken up by my newly dripping face.

Refreshed and hungry the next morning, we got off the train in Amritsar and found some rice and daal and naan. After satisfying our breakfast needs, we got a rickshaw to the gated community in which our Couchsurfing host lived. Jolly was an amazing host; we had a great room in his beautiful house - he was really helpful when we had questions about how to get places, what to do in Amritsar, etc.

AMRITSAR

The city itself of Amritsar - in the Punjabi state - is surprisingly small (geographically, and the population is only 1.2 million), compared to what I had pictured. But the famous Golden Temple is right there in Amritsar, where thousands of people take pilgramages to every day. The Sikh faith is something that I'm really happy to have learned more about while there. The main value is that "a service to God is a service to humanity." An extremely open, accepting religion, it's impossible not to feel completely comfortable in the presence of such a place.

Before going to the Golden Temple, we stopped at the nearby Jallianwala Bagh, a memorial site, explained here:

And then we went to the temple. Needless to say, seeing the temple in person is a surreal and amazing experience. It is about 250 years old and millions of people have touched it, walked on it, swum in the water, and slept on the ground; however, because there are so many thousands of willing volunteers, the floors are always scrubbed, the surfaces polished, and every day, the whole place is immaculate.

We caught a rickshaw back that night and the next morning, we had chai with our hosts and then went back into town. That day we were all excited because we were going to the Pakistani border, in the village of Wagah; the ceremony can be read about here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wagah

We got into the city at around eleven, and we decided to have breakfast and then look around the city some more until we headed for the border (about an hour away.) After being followed into a cafe by a man very aggressively wanting to sell us tickets to the Wagah border (he even stayed for about 15 minutes, sitting at the table next to us without ordering anything), the three of us determined that we needed to start enforcing our "walk it out" policy more.

(West Side Walk It Out

South Side Walk It Out

East Side Walk It Out

North Side Walk It Out)

Anyway, after talking about various methods of "walking it out" after we were finished with our breakfast - the bearded man in white had finally left the cafe but stayed right outside the door, waiting for us to come out - we successfully did it. We went out the door, turned right, and walked it out like like pros. We bought tickets to the border from another man who was very kind and polite, and we were told to meet the group at 3. So, we had a couple of hours to kill, which we did with stellar killing-time skills.

At 3, we met with the rest of the group going to the border. Waiting with the group, the bearded man in white spotted us and started shouting at the people who were in charge of our tour. As he was yelling in Punjab, I can only use contextual logic to make a (pretty sure) guess that he was expressing his displeasure that the new guys had "stolen" his customers. I'm not completely sure, but it was pretty awkward for a second.

Driving to the border, after I was instructed not to sit in the back of the Jeep with Heidi and Hayley for some reason, we listened to amazing music while marveling at the slice of the Punjabi region we were getting to see whizzing by. Once we arrived in Wagah and parked near some colorful semi-trucks, we walked a couple kilometers to the border ceremony. As we approached the ceremony, I felt as if I was arriving at a huge, important sporting event, a concert, or something else equally expectedly exciting... but in this case, it was a border ceremony that is held every single day at the same time. And it appears that every day is just as amazing as the day before. I'm so grateful that I had this experience - it was unforgettable.

The "VIP" section was for us foreigners; we were in bleachers of our own, separate from the Indian nationals. Heidi, Hayley and I agreed that it would have been an even cooler experience to be in the crowd with those from India, because there was such a love for their country felt throughout the crowd; there was a lot of enthusiasm and it would have been fun to be in the middle of that feeling.

After the ceremony was over, we posed in some photos with more people who requested it (if single men asked for them, we said no; families or little kids, sure.) Hayley purchased an informational DVD from a guy on our way out. A few minutes later, a boy (maybe 13 years old) asked Hayley over and over to purchase one of HIS DVDs at a higher price, because there was English in it (Hayley just wanted the Hindi one that she had already bought), but after about five minutes of the convincing 13-year-old's marketing skills, Hayley was about ready to buy an English DVD from him. Before she had the chance to say "ok, sure, fine," a middle-aged man passing by us grabbed the boy, smacked him and shoved him back, and told him to leave us alone. We felt really guilty, but I guess that's a normal occurrence; the cultural nuances of India are very intriguing to those who aren't from there.

Back to Amritsar we went.

We got to the Golden Temple again that evening, ready to walk around it more and eventually head to the Free Kitchen for dinner. The Free Kitchen was a memorable, great moment. There were hundreds of people in a large room; we all sat next to each other in a line on the floor and volunteers walked around distributing bread, daal, water, and rice pudding. Outside of the large hall were about 5 dozen people sitting around gigantic containers or piles of onions, potatoes, peppers, and other foods, dicing, slicing, cubing, and washing them, preparing for the steady supply of visitors to the Free Kitchen.

After our dinner, we walked around the temple, sat near the temple, went inside the temple, and explored the surrounding buildings. While sitting in a building near a guru reading the sacred book, a 12-year-old boy slowly walked past us, obviously interested in being acquainted. So, I said hello, and he was extremely friendly, well-spoken, and adorable. We talked to him for a few minutes, and then we went back outside. About five minutes later, the boy came running up, with handfuls of suji halwa, the sweet cream of wheat-type food eaten by everyone after a visit to the temple. He wanted to make sure we had gotten some; we ate and talked with him for a few minutes, and then he ran away again. We were commenting on how adorable the kid was and how we wanted to ask him more questions about the Sikh religion, which he had started telling us about. After about ten minutes, he reappeared, this time with his older sister (about our age), his grandmother, and parents. We talked to him for at least an hour then, really amazed by his composure, his good English, and his sense of humor. The family would have been really great to stay in touch with; I regret that we didn't exchange email addresses.

Sitting near us was Nov Joti, a man around our age who had come to the temple alone. We then talked with him for quite awhile, and learned a lot of very good information about the Sikh religion and what it is all about. He has just finished his final exams in dentistry, and hopes to work abroad for awhile where dentists are well respected. Nov is the one who told us about the importance that the Sikhs place on putting humanity before anything else; they believe that God wants, above all else, human rights, mutual respect, and dignity on this world.

The hair on a person's head is considered sacred, and should not be cut; that is why men and women often have very long hair. Men keep it coiled on their head with the turban to keep it up. The turban has many other purposes/a lot of history, which can be read about here:

http://fateh.sikhnet.com/s/WhyTurbans

We had to pull ourselves away from the temple and the cool people we met, since it was close to midnight by then, and once we got our shoes and found a rickshaw, we were on our way. The driver wasn't familiar with the exact place we were going, but he stopped along the way to ask shopkeepers and passerby, and we were going the right direction. The turn to the gate approached, and one of us said, "Ok, turn here" but probably too late (plus, the rickshaw was very close to the curb); the vehicle didn't slow down (it was probably going at round 50 mph), and while turning, the rickshaw hit a rock on the side of the road. We started bouncing, and all of us hit our heads hard, and before we knew it, we were all screaming while the rickshaw was tipping over. My first thought was, "Oh no, Hayley is going to be really hurt" because she was the one who fell first, followed by Heidi on top of her, and me on top of Heidi. I probably lost consciousness for 5 seconds, and when I realized what was happening, there were men who seemed to appear out of nowhere, standing next to the rickshaw and telling us they would help us out of the rickshaw. Somehow, Hayley and Heidi were both okay (no more than just a little blood, some bumps, and shock); I was unsurprisingly okay too, being that no one had fallen on top of me. We all stood up after about 30 seconds, and the poor driver was near tears, he was so worried. He kept saying, "Madam, please, are you okay?" Somehow, although we were all in a state of shock, Hayley managed to have the sense to call Jolly (our host) and let him know what had happened. After we got out of the rickshaw finally and gathered our things, the driver walked us across the road to the gate and told the guard what had happened. While we were walking toward the gate I heard the rickshaw being started up again by one of the guys who had come to help us - it started running fine! Those things are tough.

Hayley paid the driver and we all reassured him we were okay (I asked him several times if he was okay but he wasn't showing any concern for himself); he was still shaking and looked really upset as he walked away. I felt really awful for him and I hope he's okay.

So, we walked it out after the rickshaw accident; we were fine.

Although I can't compare this to an actual car accident (usually those are going a lot more quickly and there is glass involved, which there wasn't in the rickshaw), I now know what the after-shock feels like. First I cried for about 10 seconds, then I started shaking, then I started freezing (I was cold for about half the night and couldn't stop trembling.) It's strange how a body physically reacts to something like that. All of us complained about the same stuff - bad headaches, aching necks, legs, and shoulder blades. But above all, we kept repeating over and over how amazing it was that none of us had serious injuries. We all definitely had concussions - to be discovered the next day - but besides that, we really had nothing to worry about. We fell asleep at some point that night, and in the morning we all woke up with headaches, and after showers and getting dressed, we of course got back in a rickshaw and went back into town.

Hayley's necklace/earring set that she had bought early in the day survived. She had left it at the jalabis stand, unknowingly, and we did some backtracking to places we had been, and were unsuccessful. But when we went back to the tea stand, which is next to the jalabis stand, the jalabis people handed Hayley her little plastic bag with the necklace/earrings and said, "I think you have left your luggage here." And then it survived the rickshaw accident. So Hayley was meant to have those. :)

That day was really nice; we were all in the same state (we were all kind of nauseous, dazed, and exhausted) so we took it easy. Hayley's doctor friend told us over the phone to just keep hydrated and not to do anything stupid, basically. Our tea man and our jalabis man kept us company for a little while; then we went to some Hindu temples.

There is a Hindu temple with an indescribable interior. We didn't take pictures inside; however, I'll attempt right now to find something on the internet...

Here we go:

http://www.flickr.com/photos/jay_malya1618/6079438440/

It was like a maze, with low staircases, a few tunnels, narrow passageways, and mirrored tiles on every visible surface.

This is the other one; we got there just in time, before the temple went to sleep for the afternoon.

We then went to a nice restaurant; I wasn't hungry, which was unfortunate, because the food was amazing. I made myself eat some of the lamb and chicken, though; we were all still in a daze and not feeling so well. There was some sari shopping sometime during the day, as well as drinking more chai. We got henna on our hands from some guys on the street; they were incredible. A girl was making an appointment to get all of her wedding henna done there, so we knew they must be good. Our henna dried on the rickshaw ride home.

Then, we went to bed, woke up at 4, and were on our way to the train station to get back to Dehli to get our flights back to Mumbai (in my case)/Pune.

At the Dehli train station, we sat on the floor minding our own business; however, a lot of people wanted to talk to us, take our pictures from a distance, or simply stare at us. It didn't bother us much at first, but one of the guards (carrying a large wooden stick) was not having it. He shooed away people, keeping his eyes on us and making menacing faces at people who tried to mess with us or even look at us. It was really funny but also intimidating! We definitely felt well protected, even if we weren't feeling the need for it. A boy took a photo of us on his phone, and the guard waved his stick at him and yelled, sending the boy and his group out the door of the main hall.

One train fight (a disagreement between two men about assigned seats), several hours of sleep, and a rickshaw ride to the Dehli airport later, our trip had come to its end.

When I got to the Mumbai airport, it was time to track down my bandura. First, I asked the info desk to direct me to the left luggage area. They sent me to the counter, which had closed an hour before. I left the building (which I guess I wasn't supposed to do) and asked a security guard how I could get a hold of the luggage storage people. He told me to go back inside and wait for someone to show up, which didn't happen for about half an hour. Eventually an Indian guy came up to the counter looking for his lost ID - I was happy about that because he could call the phone number listed at the counter (cause he had a phone and also cause be speaks Hindi, which helped the situation); he didn't have time to wait for long though, so he didn't get his ID unfortunately. But eventually a man came to the counter; when I described my bandura, he looked very perplexed, sprinted off for ten minutes, came back sweating, and said that I was in the wrong terminal.

This was an hour after I had started my mission of finding my bandura, and my flight to the States was in about two hours. I started getting a little worried. But the man was extremely helpful - he rushed me through luggage screening and out the door to the bus that would take me to the international terminal. Once I got to the other terminal, I got in line to get my passport checked, allowing me into the airport. I thought the left luggage counter would be inside there, just as it had been inside the other terminal. No, I was mistaken; after waiting for 15 minutes in line, I had to get out of line and run to another part of the terminal, down an elevator (I asked people along the way - it was like a scavenger hunt), out the door to a place with taxi drivers, and I found a security guard, asked him, got pointed to another security guard, and finally found someone who knew. The security guard who knew what I was talking about didn't even do anything, and this other guy out of nowhere appeared, saying, "Oh, madam, it's you. I got a phone call about you." We rushed down an alley, into a storage room, where I hugged my bandura and thanked the man. Then, he walked with me all the way back to where I had started (where I needed to check in.) I got through check in/check my luggage pretty quickly, and even had about half an hour to spare before boarding.

At my layover in London, I had about 20 minutes between getting off the plane and boarding the next one (due to our flight landing late); I went up to an employee and asked if I could go through the express security. She said to get in the back of the line and that she couldn't help me unless one of her colleagues came with me and "allowed" me to get through. So, in my ultra polite way, I jumped the line, apologizing to everyone, got an employee to help me, and ran to my next gate; the gate closed at 8:10 am, and I got there at 8:11. They let me on the flight and we took off very soon after.

THAT flight got to New York late; I had to go through customs, pick up my luggage, and then switch from JFK airport to LaGuardia airport for my flight to Minneapolis. By that time, I was exhausted and just wanted to be home. I got through customs within half an hour, then asked a woman if I needed to pick up my luggage despite being told at the beginning that it would go straight through to Minneapolis. She said, "Um, we don't clear your luggage through customs for you, so yeah, you need to pick up your luggage right now." So I waited for ten minutes or so, saw that all the luggage was there (but didn't see mine), so I basically just said "forget it" and went to LaGuardia. By then it was something like 1:15 pm and my flight was at 2:25 pm. The shuttle to LaGuardia took a good 45 minutes; I got to LaGuardia at 2, and somehow made it onto the (tiniest ever) airplane to Minneapolis. There were only 20 passengers; my bandura got to ride under a seat in first class. The flight attendant's sister was about to go to Ukraine on a mission trip. It was a good relaxing flight.

Hello Minneapolis!

Thank you Nancy for this amazing welcome home cake! She had it delivered overnight, fresh, from New Orleans in time for my coming home.

Finally in Minneapolis with my mom and brother (who I hadn't seen in over two years - he's so tall!), I filed my luggage claim, came home, ate Cajun cake from my mom's cousin Nancy, and crashed (oh, and my luggage was delivered to our house at midnight two days later - yay!)

My leg is still numb, my stomach's still recovering, and I'm only just now fully getting over my jet lag. But none of that stuff matters at all - the only thing I can think about when I think of India is that I need to go back.

GLOW:

Girls

Leading

Our

World

My former sitemate, Rachel Muhlstein, did some great things while here: one was taking such an active leadership role in GLOW camps (during her summers here), and another was that she formed an English club of some outstanding people, who have now become some of my best friends in Ukraine. Olya, Natasha, Tanya and a new member (from the Red Cross), Olya - all of them are extremely kind, are super fun to be around, and are active members of their community. They all have different things to bring to the table.

After taking part in Stephanie Somerman's GLOW (weekend) camp in her town of Chaplinka, Olya and I came back to Nova Kakhovka and filled the rest of the English club in. Natasha decided that we should recreate it in Nova Kakhovka, and we decided to cut it down to a half-day training, because we wanted to do it soon (before I left) and that's what we had time to plan. So, we had this seminar on Saturday, November 12. Seven awesome girls came.

Everything went very well, thanks to the English club. They completely took charge and organized the whole thing. All I had to do was request a room at my school, request the use of some equipment, and find the girls to attend. Natasha wrote out the agenda, with the help of Olya. Also, Natasha and Olya got a gynecologist to come as a guest speaker, as well as a woman who works at an organization in town that helps HIV-positive people. Olya from the Red Cross invited her colleague, Elena, who is a psychologist (exciting side note: I'm feeling very hopeful that the Red Cross is getting a Peace Corps volunteer! I really hope it happens - what great people they would be to work with. That PCV would be so lucky.)

Our training included:

Introductions (Natasha)

Human trafficking (me - thank you Tanya and Olya for translating!)

HIV/AIDS (Natasha from the HIV/AIDS org.)

Women's health (the gynecologist)

Gossip (Natasha)

Self-esteem (Elena)

The girls were so engaged; we really lucked out!

This was just the fist of many trainings. After I leave, the plan is that the English club will continue doing the same seminar at different schools in our town and in surrounding villages. Peace Corps always talks about sustainability. Talk about sustainability right here! I'm really happy we did this!

By the way, this five-hour seminar cost us a total of 25 grieven, about $3, for the coffee breaks. Any PCV, English club, Ukrainian, whoever, can do this! No paperwork, no grants, nothing needed. All you need is a room and some motivated girls and women.

In early October, a trainer who works for Peace Corps (his name is Sasha) traveled from Kharkov to Nova Kakhovka to give a training to 15 students at my school on HIV/AIDS: facts, statistics, prevention, and dispelling stigmas/discrimination against HIV-pos. people. The training lasted from 11 to 4.

In turn, the students at the training took the information they learned and recreated 45-minute lessons for younger students. The 9th/10th-graders split up into groups of three, and each Friday for about a month, they gave lessons to 5th-, 6th-, and 7th-graders on what HIV/AIDS is and gave a little insight on what it is like to live with it. The lessons were very interactive and, for the most part, kept the kids' attention, which is no easy feat. :)

Thanks so much to everyone who made this a very successful project! With just a $100 grant (which provided the materials for the training + classes, certificates, and stuff for coffee breaks at the initial training), we managed to educate approximately 75 people on the topic. I think that PEPFAR (President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief) is extremely effective and important, and it costs so little to make such a big impact. Americans: if you have the chance, please encourage our Congress to keep the program going. It's so important.

Sometimes, saying goodbye/making a transition is easy, a relief, or exciting. This is definitely not one of those times - I have never been so reluctant about, and have never dreaded so much, a coming departure.

Today my school (some of my classes, the school director, my counterpart, and a lot of co-teachers) gathered in the assembly hall to give me a goodbye concert. As I was walking into the room, I repeatedly told myself, "Don't cry, don't cry - just get through this." As soon as I sat down, before the presentation had even started, I had tears streaming down my face. I'd never cried at school before. :) Cause, you know, I'm tough. I wasn't so tough today.

I've never felt so much a part of a culture as I do now in Ukraine. From now on, I'll always be partly Ukrainian at heart.

Thank you to the amazing people of School 8, and Nova Kakhovka in general, for giving me these two years.

My school director, me, and my new bandura

After my school director gave me a necklace that he made

Some of my amazing 8th-graders... I've had them as students since they were in 6th grade!

Some 5th-graders, who I had last year and this year - they sang a Thanksgiving song for me!

Said 5th-graders, before their song, getting ready

with my amazing counterpart - she and her sister have been the best counterparts I could ever have hoped for

One of my 8th-graders, Dasha - she's going to go very far in life.

With Andrew (my student and my counterpart's son)! I've known him since the first week I was in Nova Kakhovka.

Me and some of the 8th-graders

I'm aware that this doesn't have to do with life in Ukraine, but I took this trip during my Peace Corps service so I am going to let it be included in this blog.

In June of 2010 I finally took a trip to Israel, where I'd wanted to go for as long as I can remember. From Ukraine, it was actually realistic, and it was a memorable and wonderful week. Although it's now November of 2011, I'm finally posting something about it, after finding a notebook in which I wrote down all my experiences while sitting at the airport on my way out. The main reason I'm posting this is because a few relatives have asked me repeatedly to tell them more about the trip, but I feel that I have not adequately relayed everything. This post is very honest and a little more honest than I am generally comfortable with (in a publicly-accessed place) but I believe that the more honest something is, the better the writing is. I by no means believe that I am a talented writer, but maybe being open with some of my private thoughts will make my writing a little more interesting.

Some things might come across as offensive, or angry. Since then, I have calmed down about some things. My self-loathing has eased a lot since then, for example.

Keep in mind that these are purely my perspectives – gained in a mere week – and I have no right to pretend that I have a deep understanding of a culture that I've only experienced for such a short amount of time. I am copying down, word for word, what is in my notebook from that day that I wrote it… minus a few passages that I chose to leave out on my blog. And the few things I have added for the sake of this blog post are in italics.

Here goes:

It's almost 10 pm; I'm at the Tel Aviv airport for the night (my flight back to Kiev is really early in the morning.) Meanwhile, I can't stop thinking about the past week here in Israel, so I paid for this overpriced notebook… the funny thing is that I rarely get the urge to write down my experiences, but right now I really want to.

On the bus from Jerusalem to the airport tonight, this (weird but memorable/interesting) guy about my age sat next to me. For most of the ride, he was reading a handwritten paper in Hebrew that was several pages long, and he would occasionally curse under his breath (in English) and shake his head. Then, out of nowhere, he turned to me (about five or ten minutes before the bus stopped at the airport) and said something in Hebrew, pointing to the paper. After I apologetically asked him to speak English, he repeated it and started translating parts of the paper to me, which was about the very early history of Israel (about 3,800 years ago.) It turns out he is American, and living in Israel. I just listened, and tried not to laugh when he asked the bus driver to turn down the radio, and a passenger next to us tried to signal to me that he was annoying her.

Then, he asked me where I'm from, and I answered that I'm from Minnesota, but living in Ukraine. He said that if he went to Ukraine, he would kill every Ukrainian he saw, because they're all anti-Semites. He repeated that (using different sorts of vivid imagery) a couple more times, even after I told him that Ukraine is progressing and that I've encountered quite a few Jewish communities here, all fully identifying (proudly) as Ukrainians. Also, any references I've heard from Ukrainians about Jews have not been at all negative, and have been very respectful. I asked him (not confrontational at all, just out of curiosity) if he truly believed that violence was a solution, and without skipping a beat, he said that, yes, violence is needed to teach other human beings a lesson.

He then told me – even after I answered no to his question of whether or not I am Jewish – that he felt I had a Jewish soul, and that he thinks I must have Jewish ancestors and just not know it. Even though these words came from an odd guy who had some intense and violent opinions that I hardly agreed with, I couldn't have been more pleasantly surprised and happy to be told that. Somehow, this bizarre stranger who knew me for five minutes got it. I can't really explain my connection to Judaism, but it's there and I've always known it's there. Yes, the irony that I'm actually half Arab might not be irony at all. Maybe I feel this deep connection that's unexplainable because of those roots. The Arabs and the Jews in the Middle East are definitely related – they have to be. A lot of the world will never fully understand that, I guess.

But to be quite frank, this trip has made me so cynical that I don't even want to try to validate that fact to myself in my mind. I know there's a connection, and I know there are way too many people who don't see that, and I'm going to stop trying to explain that to anyone in my family, or any of my friends who question it (which has happened back in the States) or even to myself.

He gave me his email address right before the bus stopped near the airport, and as interesting as it would be to talk to him again, I'm not going to contact him, simply because I don't want to spoil those last five minutes on the bus in Israel. Because… I liked what he said at the end. Maybe even those with the most violent thoughts in their head can still have a beautiful perspective of some kind.

This whole experience has opened my eyes and closed my mind in more ways than expected. Well, one could say it has closed my mind, but it has also opened my mind to things I never would have wanted to think about. The next thing I'm going to write about still makes me feel kind of numb but very sad at the same time, but I want to get it down on paper for some reason. Maybe writing it is my way of accepting it.

Yesterday, I dedicated most of the day to seeing the parts of the Old City I still wanted to see, like the Dome on the Rock and the view of the Mount of Olives. The Dome on the Rock area closes to tourists for a lot of the day, so eventually, all of us visitors were told to go out the nearby gate, which led us to outside the wall. I was excited because I had been determined to get up to the top of the Mount of Olives to see the view of Jerusalem from there. It was a twenty-minute walk up, and it was so hot and therefore difficult, but it was so worth it. I stayed up there awhile and eavesdropped on part of a tour, but finally strayed away because of a salesman tirelessly trying to bombard me with trinkets and a ride on a camel.

So, again, I was on my own walking back down the hill, past the Jewish cemetery, and eventually leading me to a very deserted area. It was the middle of the day and the Old City was just across a very small valley with a grove of trees, so I didn't think twice before crossing the valley, alone, back towards the walls. But then, I saw him, a 13- or 14-year-old boy, chubby and strong, with a very sweet-looking, round face. He was Palestinian and literally seemed to appear out of nowhere. I walked a little more quickly when I saw him watching me closely, but he caught up to me and asked me how I was. My automatic response, for some reason, was to pretend I didn't understand English, so I said, "I don't understand" and kept walking. Although he had such an angelic face, something about him made me anxious. He said, "No English?" but again asked how I was after a few seconds. He kept lagging behind but then running up the steps and catching up to me, and he shook my hand and then said, "I love you," and started trying to kiss my arm, and when I tried to pull away he put his hand down my shirt and wouldn't let go. I tried to get him off of me, but he grabbed on very forcefully and then let go and apologized.

I started to continue walking, ignoring him, but a few seconds later, he caught up again, said he was sorry, and grabbed me again, this time in a different place… (and then put his other hand down my shirt again.) I started screaming and kicking him off of me, and finally he let go and ran back down the steps into the valley, towards an adult man who was apparently down there the whole time, watching us. I still had a little ways up the path towards the Old City walls, and I was scared and shaking and angry. I know it was very minor, but even though I logically know that what happened yesterday doesn't even begin to compare to what many other people have had happen to them, I still feel a little shaken up by it.

That's all it took to make me more paranoid in general. So, when I got back into the walls, I found myself walking through the Muslim Quarter and hating every one of the people in it. All I wanted to do was find the Jewish Quarter because I knew I would feel safe there, and I was really panicked when I kept walking through the market booths manned by Arabs. Needless to say, that incident had a pretty negative effect on me, and I now feel this new … hatred (I really want to avoid that word, but what else can I use without lying right now?) … towards Arabs that I've never felt before. It gives me a sense of self-loathing but also a sense of sick pride that I can hate being affiliated with the Arab culture and be perfectly emotionless about said hatred. I'm definitely not proud of it. Nothing about my feelings right now are logical.

I know that boy wanted to make me feel afraid, and to warn me that I wasn't welcome in his territory. I know that his anger stems from fear and isolation, maybe. I know all of this, but I find myself not wanting to sit near the group of Palestinians that I see right now in the airport waiting area.

Today while walking around central Jerusalem and then past the park by the Scottish church, I instinctively tried to avoid even walking past Palestinian guys. I'm ashamed to have to admit it, but I can't avoid it or pretend I'm not having those horrible thoughts. I can't believe how naïve I was before this trip in believing in Noa and Mira Awad's (evidently overly idealistic) song, or at the very least, finding it inspiring. I also can't believe I had no expectation of anything like this tension being so plainly visible to me while in Jerusalem. But it's all so real and not exaggerated in the news. It's true that a Palestinian guy walking down the street in Western Jerusalem can get strip searched in public while being circled by police and being forced to lie on his stomach on the pavement, no dignity allowed. It's true that while walking through the markets and in the streets in the Muslim Quarter of the Old City alone, a girl like me wearing non-Arab clothes will have a "F**k you" thrown by a teenaged boy. And it's true that the Arab men will stare at a girl dressed like I was as if I'm a slut. It's evident that young teenager will think his anger is justified enough to sexually assault someone walking through his territory. And, most of all, it's quite true that the division is in very tight quarters and that the division is very, very strong.

And yeah, I'm sure I was right all along that tons of people living in Israel want peace, but I now am at least starting to understand all of the reasons other than the good-hearted, simple desire – it is also because people just want to be able to walk down the street without feeling as if they have to look over their shoulder, or without having to answer to security guards just to walk inside a mall. I'm guessing that people just want to be able to walk alone in daylight in Jerusalem without having to keep in mind which streets "belong" to the "others." It's exhausting! At least, it was for me (since I don't have a clear map of the city in my mind.) Even just feeling that for a couple of days took something out of me; I can't imagine how much it takes out of a person living here. Maybe I'm wrong, but that's what my impression is.

Somehow, one of the most beautiful and sacred places is also frightening.

Sitting down in a park to take a rest (in broad daylight, by a major road, with a lot of passerby) can mean being approached by a man who decides he has every right to grab your hand and rub his hands up your arms. Walking down the "wrong" territory can mean getting stones thrown in your direction (yes, this happened! All I wanted to do was walk.)

Anyway, my mind is being opened to the reasons people hate each other. I'm starting to see why and even think it might be justified, considering what I have seen in just a few days. I hate it that it seems to make some sense now.

Well, now that I got some of that frustration out, I'm going to write down the amazing things about the trip! Despite all that I wrote above, I am in love with this beautiful country, its people (minus the individuals I referred to), and the culture. I will come back here, each time getting a closer look at this place and loving it more and more.

Fellow PCV Jessie connected me with her old co-worker, Liron, who lives in Tel Aviv. Her husband is Shaul. They generously let me stay with them, and I'm so glad I got to meet them.

On Friday, I got into Tel Aviv at about 4:30 am, and I was supposed to go to Liron and Shaul's place at 9. So, since I had awhile, I took the train towards Tel Aviv and ended up getting off at Hashalom even though that was evidently pretty far before I should have gotten off. My ticket was in Hebrew, of course, so what did I know? But I wasn't worried – this would give me time to walk around and experience the morning before most people were awake. So, I got my first taste of Tel Aviv at that hour; it was really nice, despite the fact that I had no idea where I was going and I couldn't find a map of the city anywhere (I ended up having to take a taxi to Liron's, oh well.) So, after meeting Liron (and right away loving her) and sleeping for a few hours, Liron came home from her class and took me to Jaffa to see the market. We also went up on the zodiac bridge, and I finally got to see that famous beach/city view of Tel Aviv that I've always dreamed of seeing.

Afterwards, Shaul's family was getting together for a big dinner in Quesarriya, which turned out to be incredibly beautiful. The dinner was at this restaurant by the water, and we had endless plates of unbelievably amazing food. It was the perfect first day in Israel, cause I got to talk to people from here the whole day, and feel nothing like a tourist. Shaul's family was so welcoming and I instantly felt at home with them. After that dinner, we went home and Daniella (who lives in Jerusalem – I'll explain how I know her) and her friend Lital came to Tel Aviv to hang out with me that night.

Back story is that I met Daniella at a hostel in Switzerland in 2008, and we have kept in touch since then. We even met up in Germany a few months after we met. Although I've spent a total of 5 or 6 days with her, she's one of those people I feel like I've known for a really long time.

On Saturday, Liron and Shaul took me to their hometown near Tel Aviv, where we went to their friend's pool party. The best part about that was when we all played water soccer and we were all on top of each other trying to get the ball – it was just funny because I didn't know any of them. But, like with Shaul's family, I didn't feel at all like an outsider or like a "new" person.

Then, we went to Liron's parents' house. Her dad is one of the sweetest people I've ever met. He owns a shoe store in Tel Aviv and loves it because he loves people, and spends his days interacting with so many different people from different places. After hanging out at their place for awhile, we went home and their friends Alma and Oren came over and we had fish and chips and watched a World Cup game. I have to say again – I LOVE Liron and Shaul!

On Sunday, Shaul had to work and Liron and I went for a walk with Chuka the dog, and we ate at this cool hippy restaurant and then I left for Jerusalem. Daniella and I met up, and I met Gili and her dog Polly. That night Daniella and her roommates had a party, which was great. As Rudy would say (and I'm now stealing), I want to run off into the sunset with both Lital and Lea. Haha, Rudy, if you happen to ever see this, thank you for that phrase! Lital is so genuine and kind, and Lea is crazy and hilarious. So, yeah. I actually think that the party was my favorite moment in Jerusalem. I really liked the group I got to know.

The next day, I walked through the Old City all day, which was interesting but, as I found out, slightly intimidating, especially while alone. Then, that night, Daniella, Gili, Polly and I went to a humus place and I got to eat the best humus I've ever tasted. The next day, Tuesday, I did more of the Old City and Mount of Olives, and I went back to Daniella's early and slept. I also had a great conversation with Moran, Daniella's roommate.

That night, Daniella, Gili, and I went to a new frozen yoghurt place and watched part of a movie. Today I saw Daniella for about 30 seconds in the morning before she had to go to school, and unfortunately I had to leave Jerusalem earlier than I thought. So, I left a note and had to come here to the airport without saying goodbye/thank you.

Anyway, today I walked all over the center of Jerusalem and then went to the Scottish church, from where there was a great view of the city. My one regret about the trip is that I didn't go to the Dead Sea. I really wish I had made that more of a priority. But I guess the good thing is that I saw just about every part of Jerusalem that I had been hoping to see (minus the Israel Museum, which was closed for some reason.) Now back to the airport.

The past couple hours were interesting. I was sitting writing in this and a security guard came up and asked what I was writing. I know that the security in this airport is very tight (for good reason, duh), but it made me feel weird. It got even more fun after that when I checked in. Here, they scan your bags first and then you check in. So, all my stuff was put through the scanner, then taken to the next station where they pick apart everything, opening all the zippers and going through all your belongings. For most people that's it, and they can continue through to check in. But for some reason, I was flagged (I got this special sticker on my bag after it went through the scanner, which I noticed that no one around me got) and I was taken into a separate room and into a curtained area. I had to remove my sandals and get patted down. I thought that was it, but no, the lady escorted me back to my bags, to the check-in counter, to the baggage ticketing counter, to the ATM downstairs when I discovered they didn't take debit cards for baggage fees, back upstairs to the baggage ticketing, where she waited in line with me, back to the check-in counter, and all the way to the passport control. Neither of us spoke to each other, but I really wanted to ask her why I was being followed everywhere. Obviously that question was not going to be asked or answered.

I'd like to think that it was completely random.

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In Tel Aviv

Quesarriya

View from the Mount of Olives in Jerusalem

Views of the Mount of Olives

Girls are a powerful force to be reckoned with when given the chance. And as I saw this weekend, Ukraine has some pretty amazing young women.

My friend Stephanie Somerman, a Peace Corps Community Development volunteer who lives near me, decided that the GLOW summer camp needed to be relived this fall. She, along with her Ukrainian counterpart (Alona) and a couple of her co-workers (Olya and Julia) - and several other volunteers from her town - organized and implemented a very memorable, successful weekend. Stephanie works with a social services center in Chaplinka, a small town in the oblast, which is where the camp was held. The director of the school at which we had the camp was such a gracious host and accommodated all of us with a lot of enthusiasm and positivity.

Meet Stephanie:

Nine of us Peace Corps volunteers traveled from other cities/towns/villages in the oblast (state) to Chaplinka, where the camp was held. Along with several of the volunteers came students in 9th-, 10th-, and 11th-grade. A Ukrainian volunteer, my good friend Olya, came along too, and she, along with Alona and Julia, were great assets - they translated a lot of what we couldn't, and set an example to the girls that the ideals we were delivering to the 17 teenagers were not necessarily "American" or "western" - they're concepts/issues that are very important all over the world. And every single girl in the world deserves to be given, at the bare minimum, the information that they got over the weekend. And of course, as at any camp, we gained many new perspectives from the girls in return.

Camp began on Friday evening - everyone arrived, ate dinner, and were ready for the introductions/rules/expectations and for How to Glow Lesson 1: Leadership.

We found out the girls' expectations/hopes about the following 2 days. They all wanted to practice their English, learn new information, take lots of photos, and make new friends. We also established rules - everyone signed the contract/poster. :)

Lesson 1: Leadership came next. I led that lesson and it went well; it was great to communicate with so many teenage girls about the importance of feeling capable of being a leader, whether it be on a small or large scale. The word "leader" isn't a big, scary word - it's a word that can be applied to every person on some level. That lesson included some great, creative skits!

The Quest followed - in teams, everyone had to go to a station, do a task, and get a puzzle piece. The team that completed their puzzle first won! Tasks included filling a cup with water using a spoon...

...and running a 3-legged race...

...and singing the Ukrainian national anthem.

Then came reflections (or as we called it at Hometown Europe, "roses and thorns") and sleep.

Olya's first time in a sleeping bag:

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Saturday, Maggie started the day with yoga. She didn't go incredibly easy on the girls; they got a pretty decent work-out.

After breakfast, Stephanie's counterpart Alona gave a lesson on project design and management. The girls gained information on how to successfully plan and execute a project. The lesson was all in Ukrainian so unfortunately I was only able to get about 20% of it (I learned Russian, and my whole town operates almost purely in Russian - it's hard to believe that a town 45 minutes away has so much Ukrainian speaking!) However, I clearly saw that the girls got a lot out of the lesson and had some great ideas!

Stephanie and Megan Trout co-presented on professionalism; any kind of project or future educational or career endeavor requires acting professional on some level. Steph and Megan had an entertaining skit on a good versus bad interview. Once I get ahold of a picture from that, I'm definitely adding it on here - it was quality stuff!

Then it was time for tie-dye! It was a first for everyone. It was pretty fun throwing in an element from a typical American camp. Some girls brought white T-shirts; those who didn't made bandannas. Some people made both!

Stephanie

Kaity and Shannon Our new friendJulia and Olya, 2 of the Ukrainian volunteers

Lunch was even better than expected - one of the many things that Alona did, with the help of two other women, was make sure that 40 people were fed at each meal. I'll never get tired of real borscht made by real Ukrainians.

How to GLOW lesson 2 was on body image and was led by Kaity and me. It is always a powerful topic to talk about with teenage girls, and a very important one. Among several activities, we included this video (the Dove Evolution commercial) and had a positive discussion afterward. Kaity concluded the lesson well: stop comparing yourself with someone who isn't real.

Stephanie's friend who is a psychologist (named Olya) gave a great lesson next on sexual health and dating and was able to answer a lot of anonymous, written questions that people weren't necessarily comfortable asking out loud or at home. Of course, everything in that room at that time was promised to stay confidential, so I'm going to just leave it at that. But I will say that Olya did a great job and was really approachable.

Team-building games included People to People and Bibbity Bobbity Boo.

By the way, the mayor dropped by!

And then!

The Kossaks came. A team of Kossaks (yes, real ones, naturally! :)) arrived and served the entire group a big pot of duck soup. It was awesome; they were so much fun and really friendly. It was really amazing of them to put so much effort into visiting the camp and providing dinner. I had two helpings of the stuff!

We finished the evening off with a film about human trafficking ("Lilya 4-Ever") - it's about a girl from Estonia who is promised a better life by her new romantic partner, Andrey. He woos her and invites her to Sweden, where they'll have a better life. However, he is conspiring the whole time to sell her as a sex slave once they get there. It's a very powerful film (even if you don't understand any Russian at all it's well worth watching) and it brought on a lot of interesting discussion. It was a segway into the next day's topic of human trafficking. And on a happier note, the girls also got to make friendship bracelets ("fenechky") during the movie!Anne, Maggie, and Beth explaining the bracelets

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Before we knew it, the final day crept up, and I overheard several girls say to each other that they weren't ready to leave. In just 2 short days, they'd already become friends - as one girl put it, "I came here alone but now I feel like I knew these girls for one hundred years." :) Other girls said, several times, that they had "many emotions" about the camp.

After Maggie's yoga and our breakfast (again cooked by the lovely Alona, who showed up bright and early to make sure everyone was fed), it was time for the lesson/discussion on human trafficking. In Ukraine, it is an incredibly huge problem with far too many victims, and it's not talked about nearly enough. There's a hotline (the number is 5-2-7) and can be called from any major cell phone provider for free; anyone can call it to report an incident related to trafficking, or inquire about the safety/legitimacy of a company/organization. In an earlier blog post of mine (from last spring), there's more detailed information about the 527 campaign.

Julia taught the lesson on counter-trafficking - the best tool for fighting this issue is simply spreading information to as many people as possible. A lot of people, specifically in villages and small towns, don't have the opportunity to hear much (if at all) about human trafficking, and aren't aware that it's a problem in Ukraine, or even in their own hometown.

Julia led this lesson and sparked a long discussion with quite a few questions - it all took over an hour, and everyone was interested and attentive the whole time. It was Julia's first lesson on CT and she did a great job.

The 3rd How to GLOW lesson was on self-esteem, led by Megan and Shannon. In included an activity of writing anonymous compliments on sheets of paper taped to everyone's backs, writing positive words about themselves, and listing different things that make them feel good about themselves. It was a great lesson and I'll bring the lesson to my school in my town (I used it today in one of my classes!) Self-respect is a vital topic for teenagers.

After lunch we had our closing ceremony and watched a slide show that Stephanie gave up a lot of sleep to put together and burn to discs for everyone. Every participant received a certificate... and Oreos as a bonus. :) How very American.

To read more about GLOW camps, and the camp for boys (TOBE), check out globeukraine.blogspot.com

My mother is an ESL teacher - I learned, very early on, the importance of education. As one of my friends put it recently, I even exist because of it. My mom married a man from Mecca who was once determined to live in the States long enough to get a grasp of English. Even though my entire life has been intertwined with education, never did I plan on taking on the role that my mother had. But now, I find myself doing the very thing that she has done for over 20 years (but in Ukraine.)

It was International Teachers' Day yesterday (here, at least - it was observed yesterday because it was the closest Friday to the actual date.) Despite the fact that, like I mentioned above, the mantra instilled in me is that "education is more valuable than anything else in the world," I had never even heard of Teachers' Day until moving to Ukraine. I've lived in Ukraine long enough to get to experience three Teachers' Days, each one being very memorable. Someday, I hope the holiday will be celebrated in the States like it is here.

Of course I can only speak for our particular school in our particular town: a lot of thought and preparation is put into this annual tradition.

If any other school in Ukraine does it like this school does, I can say that this holiday is duly celebrated. I felt so appreciated yesterday, thanks to my many students and my co-teachers. There's more chocolate in my apartment than a human could ever wish for.

Yes, I teach a full load of classes per week and work hard. Yes, I have 4 after-school English clubs. And, yes, I give grades. But with all that, I still don't deal with half of what my co-teachers have to handle on a daily basis. The bureaucracy behind (or, more like in the forefront of) a teaching career is something I'm more than okay with not experiencing first-hand. And I give so many props to the teachers here for everything they do.

So, really, yesterday was for them. I was just lucky enough to get to be a part of it.

I have 7 weeks left of teaching, so I suppose now is an okay time to say this (although I am far from ready to bid my farewells): thank you to all of the people (students, teachers, and staff) who have made my two years teaching in Ukraine such an unforgettable, valuable experience. I'll miss you.

Everyone: never, ever take for granted the people who teach you. And I've learned (from being a teacher) to never take for granted people who want to learn.

Some of my students performing the opening number of yesterday's concert:

The concert was attended by teachers, parents, students, and retired teachers.

A well-known song from the Soviet days - performed by 9th-graders:

A poetry reading by little kids that was too cute to be real:

Singing and dancing

С праздником, учителя! И спасибо вам, ученики!

Walking down the main street (Khreschatik) of Kiev these days, one will find him/herself amid a loud cluster of musical notes blaring from two speakers from opposite sides of the street. The music will follow you for quite some distance, as its volume is overwhelming.

Along with the music, two clashing songs competing to drown out each other, there is consistent shouting, mainly from the side of the street with the fancier, larger protest set-up.

The side of the street (where the Khreschatik metro station is) boasts a small, one-table canvassing of Julia Tymoschenko loyalists, complete with their own large, black speaker.

Opposite these former-prime-minister fans sit/stand at least fifty protesters and twenty tables, decorated with slogans that only the visually impaired passerby has the opportunity to ignore. The message is loud and clear: Julia Tymoschenko is a criminal, an unfit leader to the nation.

I haven't lived in Ukraine long enough to have enough information - much less life experience here living under this government - to have a solidified stance regarding Tymoschenko. (But I do think I have an opinion on the matter due to stories from my co-workers - I'm not really in the mood to get "in trouble" with Peace Corps, so I will refrain from putting it into words on my public blog, even though I want to.)

Ukraine has been in major news media as of late (Wall Street Journal most recently), as many people may take notice of.

Where are these protests stemming from?

December 2010: Julia Tymoschenko reportedly misused over 400 million dollars.

August 5th: Julia Tymoschenko was arrested; she was said to have violated court rulings on multiple occasions.

Read this article.

So, opponents of Tymoschenko are basically like, "Dude, she's whack for doing all this," and pro-Julia citizens are like, "Have you SEEN what shady stuff the president has done during and before his term? HE'S the one who's whack."

And, finally, here is my video of the aforementioned current Khreschatik attractions - a protest against a protest, one might say.

At the end of August, 98 Peace Corps volunteers gathered in a little town in western Ukraine (Slavske) for our close-of-service conference - I am so proud to be a part of this group! Group 37 has some amazing people, and I'm sure I'll be friends with a lot of them for life.

Shots of Slavske

Some of those friends I mentioned :)

A folk singing group surprised us on Independence Day (August 24th) by performing for us - so cool! It was the 20th year of independence of Ukraine, so it was very fitting to be in the west.

Me and my cluster (the group I trained with for the first 3 months in Ukraine) 2 years ago

Me and my cluster 2 weeks ago

Peace Corps Ukraine Group 37!

At the train station on our last day of COS conference

I'm at the Peace Corps office in Kiev right now, and every time I am in this city, I love it more. It's both the largest city and the capital of Ukraine, with a population of about 3 million.

Although I've been here many times, I still haven't seen everything I want to, so this blog entry is just about the main things I've seen so far.

The Dnieper River runs through Kiev, dividing it into different regions (that same river goes all the way to my town in southern Ukraine!)

The Dnieper River in Kiev

The Dnieper River in Nova Kakhovka

Wikipedia says that Kiev was most likely founded in the year 482, making it one of the oldest Eastern European cities. The city is (now, at least) a blend of Ukrainian- and Russian-speakers (it's the city where the East meets the West.) Whenever I come here, I'm always initially taken aback by all the Ukrainian (and Surzhik - a mix of Russian and Ukrainian) that I hear here, since I've become used to hearing only Russian in my town.

The Golden Gate is a landmark not far from the main train station; it was one of the entrances to the once-surrounding fortress to Kiev. There's a museum there but I haven't gone into it yet.

In the center of Kiev is Khreshchatyk, a fancy (pedestrian on weekends) street with a lot of events (right now there's a pretty sizeable, on-going protest against Julia Temaschenko), tourists, restaurants, tourist attractions, cafes, hostels, hotels, expensive American and European stores, and over-priced Ukrainian souveniers. You don't have to spend any money, though, to love hanging around the area. It's fun to walk the length of the street from the huge indoor bazaar (in the "Besarabska" area) to the Arka Druzhbi Narodiv (the "friendship arch") which was built in 1982 in dedication to the unification of Russia and Ukraine. There's also a statue underneath the arch of a Russian and a Ukrainian together.

Nestled in the heart of Khreshchatyk is Independence Square... in 2004 that's where the Orange Revolution took place (and where I spent my 2011 New Year along with some PC friends.)

Khreshchatyk (stole these pictures from my sister):

To take another Wikipedia reference (about Khreshchatyk):

"In World War II, the city again suffered significant damage, and was occupied by Nazi Germany from 19 September 1941 to 6 November 1943. Shortly after the city was occupied, a team of NKVD officers that had remained hidden dynamited most of the buildings on the Khreshchatyk, the main street of the city, most of whose buildings were being used by German military and civil authorities; the buildings burned for days and 25,000 people were left homeless, and in retaliation the Germans rounded up all the local Jews they could find and massacred them at Babi Yar."

So, that explains why Khreshchatyk is now very polished-looking (the buildings are mostly new, compared to in other areas of Kiev.) It's the unfortunate reality of why much of "posh" Eastern Europe's appearance is the way that it is.

Needless to say Kreshchatyk is a small sliver of Kiev.

There's a lot more to see. The churches are one of the unique features here in Ukraine, and there are a lot of them in Kiev. Here are a few of the most famous ones.

This is in my favorite area of Kiev and it's my favorite church I've seen in Ukraine (other than one in Kharkiv.) This is St. Andrew's church, which was built in the mid-1700s. It's in the region of Podil, which is nicknamed "old Kiev" by people here (more on that below.)

St. Volodymir's Cathedral - this one was completed at the end of the 19th century and it commemorates Prince Volodymir of Kiev (to put it briefly.)

St. Sofia's Cathedral - this is a huge complex, with caves underneath (where monks used to live and pray) and was built in the 11th century. Luckily, this one wasn't destroyed (so this is still the original building, not a reconstruction.)

St. Michael's church - it was originally built in the 1700s. It was reconstructed in 1999 (it had been demolished in the 1930s by Soviet leaders.)

The Podil region, where St. Andrew's church is, is one of the oldest neighborhoods in the city. It's a hilly, beautiful area of Kiev that has unique architecture and a really cool vibe to it. It reminds me of the atmosphere of a port city like Seattle or Odessa.

There are several more major monuments in Kiev; I'll highlight two that are important.

One is the Motherland statue which is equated to our Statue of Liberty. It's a mighty, powerful-looking woman standing over Kiev (you can see it from far away; it looks cool from across the river.) The statue honors soldiers and is in the museum of the Great Patriotic War, which I don't have pictures of but which I visited during PC training (in very heavy fog.)

The other monument I'm going to write about is a statue simply called "Girl" which is part of a memorial dedicated to the famine (Holodomor) that happened in (the) Ukraine. It was a form of genocide inflicted on this part of the USSR in 1932-33. Millions of people died during this famine, which was caused by Soviet authorities. To read more: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Holodomor

The girl here is holding a little bit of grain; anyone caught with any more food than that (more than their "fair share") was arrested. The apples around the girl are put by passerbys now as an offering. And the millstones in the background are symbols of the near-impossible labor put into gathering the small amount of grain that there was.

A more uplifting area in Kiev is where the Botanical gardens are located. There are 2 botanical gardens, but I've really only seen one, where a good family friend works. She took my sister and me there for a day and we got a tour of the grounds, and we met the director of the gardens. We saw some labs, too, and we tried a bunch of different kinds of honey, and learned about pollination of different plants. It's beautiful!

And here are some government buildings in Kiev:

Ukrainian Foreign Ministry Building

The Presidential administration building (right) and the House of the Chimeras (left)

There's something about Kiev that makes people (ok, at least me) want to stay longer. The people aren't particularly friendly compared to anywhere else (like most other big cities); there are a lot of old, crumbling buildings and there's a lot of industrial, post-Soviet scenery. The city is annoyingly expensive and in the summer there are a lot of tourists. But for some reason, I am in love with this place! I remember reading an article in the Kiev Post written by an American saying the same thing:

(Never mind - I was going to post a link to the article, but I searched the archives and gave up after 2 minutes.)

The article is about an American who lives in Kiev and how it is his favorite city in the world, despite the fact that he's traveled to New York, London, Paris, Prague, etc. (continued list of popular, powerful cities in the world.) "There's just something about Kiev" - I'll repeat that again.

This past Sunday I got to take part in something very cool/a little surreal. Jessie (fellow PCV), who is leaving in a few days, wanted to see the town of her great-grandmother. Her name was Malka and she was 15 when she had to flee Ukraine (alone.) She was Jewish, and along with many other Jews in Eastern Europe, she definitely didn't have the easiest life. According to the Ellis Island records, she had to travel to London (she only had 3 days to get out of Bratslav) and then take a ship to New York. The journey on ship took five days, and she came into the States with no money at all.

Jessie's Peace Corps site is in Berdychiv, which is conveniently about 3 and a half hours from Bratslav, so we were able to do this trip in a day. The population is about 6,000 and it is in the Vinnitska oblast. Bratslav used to be a prominent city (it's an old medieval city) and because of the Jewish population being driven out in the 1900s, it is now a very small town that most people haven't heard of.

According to Wikipedia:

"Bratslav is famous in Judaism as the place where Rabbi Nachman lived and taught between 1802 and 1810. Rabbi Nachman was the founder of one of the major branches of Hasidism, Breslover Hasidism, and an author of Jewish mystical works."

We got there in the afternoon and walked through the town and towards the river. We climbed up a hill so we could see a view of the river and the surrounding farmland.

Then we walked to the Jewish cemetery, where Malka's father is buried. We couldn't find his specific grave, but a guy who was guarding the cemetery grounds told us what section he is buried in (by year.) He died in 1904.

The grounds are well-kept, but several of the gravestones have fallen or have broken. Jessie said that Jewish law prohibits those visiting a grave site from fixing the gravestones if anything happens to them. The graves are originally standing so that a person's soul will be sent upwards; therefore, if the grave falls, it's not our right to interfere with the grave, thus interfering with the soul.

There's also a new cemetery next to the old one.

Anyway, it was a great experience. It's rare for people to get to stand in the same spot as their ancestors and pay respects. It got me interested in doing the same someday!

A fellow Peace Corps volunteer, Jessie, had her birthday on August 9th, and our friend Stephanie and I went to her town (Berdychiv) to help her celebrate. She's been in Ukraine since April 2009, so this was her third and final birthday in Ukraine. We made American food, but stuck with the Ukrainian traditions for the party.

In the States, it's customary for family/friends to pay for the birthday lady/gent's celebration. In Ukraine, it's the opposite - the person whose birthday it is should decide how to celebrate, then invite whoever they want, and pay for the whole thing. So, Jessie decided to combine her American-ness (the food) with Ukraine's way of doing things (paying for all the food and cooking for a majority of the day.)

We had a really fun day picking out what American foods to make and having a cooking party at Jessie's house (just the Americans), then going to Jessie's organization for the party with Jessie's closest Ukrainian friends. We made mac and cheese, chicken fingers, chocolate-covered pretzels, a 7-layer Mexican dip (Steph and I had to represent the Midwest), and bruschetta on toast. We of course also baked a cake and used a frosting mix that our friend Rachel had sent to us from the States. We even put sprinkles on it!

At the dinner party, Jessie got many toasts, many gifts, and lots of balloons popped in her ear. :)

After the dinner party, we went to a nightclub near Jessie's apartment, and danced to the genius creations of Lady Gaga, Ruslana, and Madonna. Jessie graced us with a solo dance in front of our table. As is evident in the picture, I was really sick that day (the sickest I've been in Ukraine) but I still had fun.

It was a great day!

Ukrainians are smart - they really prepare months ahead for the winter - they have to, because a lot of things become unavailable/difficult to do when it gets cold. One thing that is done all summer is canning/preserving vegetables and fruit when they're in season. Unlike the States, where you can walk into any grocery store in January and buy oranges from Florida, Ukraine is the size of Texas. Therefore, the climate of the whole country is relatively the same everywhere. So, the produce that's available for a reasonable, non-imported price (from about October to March) are potatoes, carrots, beets, cabbage, and onions. A lot can be made with those five delightful items, but sometimes you just crave a tomato that doesn't cost as much as a small car.

That's where canning comes in handy!

My sitemate, Maggie, went to Russian language refresher last week (a language camp for PCVs run by PC Ukraine staff - we have 2 a year), and there, they learned how to can stuff properly.

Stuff you need:

-produce

-hot water and soap

-boiled water

-jars

-lids (in Ukraine you can get a pack of about 50 for 20 UAH)

-a klyuch (sealer) - you can get them at bazaars and big stores - they're kind of expensive but worth it (about 70 UAH)

When you have all that, you're ready to start your life as a canner.

Today we started with tomato sauce - Maggie made it, and ended up with 7 jars of it and is generously giving me the 8th one (thanks Maggie!)

First, Maggie boiled a huge pot of 3 kilos of chopped tomatoes, onions, garlic, oregano, Italian spices, and 1 1/2 kilos of peppers.

While it was boiling, she sterilized the jars by first washing them all with soap and hot water. Then she poured boiling water into the jars and let them sit for 15 minutes with their lids on (to sterilize the lids too.)

Then Maggie poured the sauce into the jars, and used the klyuch to seal the lids on.

Just make sure that you don't do what we decided to do and pour the tomato sauce/whatever else into the jars while both the jars and the food are hot, and then try to seal them right away. This is what you will get (a mess of broken glass and wasted food):

If any Ukrainians read this and think, "What an idiot," I completely understand. But this just isn't nearly as popular back home as it is here, and I have to admit that I needed some instructions.

I'll definitely take this skill home with me and impress all my friends with my watermelon jam in the winter.

Whenever Ukrainians ask me how to translate the word “dacha” into English, I can never do the concept of it justice in English. “Country house,” “summer house,” “cabin,” even “garden house” have been what I’ve come up with; however, I've come to the conclusion that the dacha should just be called "the dacha."

It’s very common for families here who live in towns or cities – where their apartment is and their place of work is – to have a piece of land in a nearby village where they grow their own produce. There’s usually also a house on that piece of land, where the family stays for a few days at a time. When I lived in a village during training, the person I lived with had her dacha right in her back yard. But since I now live in a relatively large town, I’ve heard more and more about people “going to the dacha” for the weekend. In Minnesota it’s like “going up north.”

This week I got invited to go to the dacha of a family I am friends with. I’ve known Yana and Yulia since they came to my English club a year and a half ago; their family is amazing and has made my time in Ukraine really enjoyable. I had been to their dacha before, but the last time I was there was on Easter. Now that it’s July, it’s an entirely different world there – there is so much growing there in the summer. In the spring there are cherries and apricots. In late summer there are grapes, tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, aiva, herbs, cucumbers, peaches, watermelons, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries, apples, and summer squash, just to name a few items. :)

Hanging out with Ukrainians usually means that you are going to eat really good food all day. We did some gardening and took a lot of breaks. :) We had blackberry milkshakes, peach milkshakes, eggplant towers, a really good soup called shurpa (it’s Georgian and Armenian), and of course a lot of fruit. Not only did we eat all day, I was sent home with a bucket of peaches, a bag full of mint, and a bag full of apples, eggplant, and squash.

Toward the end of the night, I got to see the “lunik” (which means something like “moon flower”) open – it opens so quickly.

Also, there are a lot of hedgehogs around the dacha and I got really excited when they told me. So, we found one in the evening, and Yana caught it and we got to hold it for a few minutes before letting it go. I’ve wanted a hedgehog since I was 11 or 12, so this was pretty exciting. :) Though now that I’ve seen one happily walking around in the wild, I’m not sure I should have a domesticated one.

Needless to say, time at the dacha is one of the things that I will miss about Ukraine.

Just about every culture has its own way of celebrating or acknowledging the first and/or last day of the school year. For Americans, a significant portion of the last day often consists of kids running around getting their yearbooks signed by their friends. In Ukraine, there is a very unique way of celebrating both ends of the year: "The first bell" and "The last bell."

11th-graders have not only their last bell at the end of May, but their graduation on the same day. They dress very elegantly, the girls very colorfully, making for a really beautiful ceremony.

Yesterday was the last bell at our school for the 1st- through 7th-graders, and today was the last bell for the older grades, up to the graduating class. Both were exciting and fun for everybody there.

Some students who did well in various subjects received certificates, and the school administration made several speeches congratulating everyone on finishing the year. There were also a few singing performances by some students.

The bell, wrapped in a white ribbon, was symbolically rung one last time toward the end of the ceremony.

During today's ceremony, the graduating class danced a waltz, which is an annual tradition for the 11th-grade class.

All of the students came to the ceremony with a flower or a bouquet of flowers. At the end of the ceremony, all of the teachers had a lot of flowers as gifts from their students. So amazing!

My apartment looks very nice now.

Here are some more photos from today's last bell:

8th-graders

One of the professional photographers :)

Balloons are a metaphor for childhood, so at the end of the last bell celebration, the 11th-graders let them go.

The above photo is of the 11B class, the group that I had the pleasure of working with (English, country studies, and American literature classes.) They are outstanding students and overall amazing human beings, and I feel very lucky to have gotten to know them.

Well, the title of this post is maybe exaggerating things just a little bit. However, I have to give Nova Kakhovka and its surrounding region (the Kherson oblast) props for being such a nutrient-filled land. During the warmer months, especially, one can eat very well for little money.

Today, for example, I filled my trusty, sturdy plastic bag with butterflies printed all over it (plus, it says the word "Butterflies" on it in big, cursive italic letters) with my purchases from my favorite sidewalk vendor outside my building. I left with a head of cauliflower, a few green garlic stalks, some onions, carrots, and zucchini. The total was 17 UAH. Although I shouldn't convert that to dollars because that takes everything out of context (living cost wise and income wise in Ukraine, etc.), it is approximately 2 dollars, for those not living in Ukraine. That is inexpensive (for Ukraine, too.) I often see fruits/vegetables in other parts of Ukraine with a sign next to it saying "from the Kherson region" and with the prices hiked up quite a bit.

The tree kind of defeats the purpose of this photo, but I'll post it anyway. This is the view out of my bedroom window. If you look closely, you can see some people sitting on the sidewalk with bags full of products. That makes it pretty easy to shop - I can literally look out my window to see what's available before making the long journey to the outside of my building.

There are many reasons to love Ukraine, and this is just one of them!

Nova Kakhovka had an exciting day - the EuroBus came to town. And they were treated like celebrities. No one really understood beforehand what the EuroBus is about, and what made them decide to come to our town (to Ukraine, even.) There was some excitement as well as some skepticism. However, after meeting the 10 or so visitors from all over Europe (England, Italy, Hungary, Poland, Slovenia, Lithuania, Latvia, Romania, Ukraine - sorry, EuroBus, if I missed anything!), there was nothing but positive energy from everyone.

It's 8 pm now and the events of today have come to an end, but there is a new wave of enthusiasm among the youth from Nova Kakhovka and neighboring towns Dniepriani and Tavrisk. One of the members of the EuroBus asked me, "Do you think we made an impact here?" My honest answer was: Absolutely!

What's refreshing to me, being here in a part of the world (our little southern Ukrainian town), which is often overlooked, forgotten, hardly ever heard of, is that youth here really get excited and motivated. Although my patriotism/love of my country has not faltered in any way since joining the Peace Corps, I must say that American youth often have SO much opportunity and SO many choices, that things like a volunteering opportunity (to be described later in this post) presented to them are taken for granted. Some teenagers at home may have rolled their eyes at having to spend 3 hours in a training, but here, no one wanted to leave.

The training (there were several, led by the different visitors) that I got to sit in on was about the European Voluntary Service, an organization that provides people ages 18 to 30 with opportunities to volunteer in another European country. The participant is given a monthly living allowance, transportation costs, and accommodations, in exchange for volunteering for 4 to 6 hours per day, 5 days per week. The assignments are anywhere from 2 to 12 months. The website is http://ec.europa.eu/youth/evs/aod/hei_en.cfm - there, people can search for volunteering openings.

At 3 pm, at our movie theater (a popular hang-out spot in the center of town) was the location of the huge welcoming performance done in honor of our visitors. People waited and waited in anticipation. When the EuroBus drove up, people cheered and clapped, and took pictures. Then, students stood in a line (like in a procession) and, as "The Europeans" walked from the bus to the theater, they greeted and smiled at the guests.

Ukrainians really are some of the most welcoming people I've met. There were groups of dancers and singers. People gave speeches telling the guests how happy Nova Kakhovka was to have them visit. The whole thing was a mix of Celine Dion (the visitors, much to people's delight, pulled random people from the crowd and slow-danced with them), belly-dancing, traditional Ukrainian dancing, and more. Students pushed their way through the crowd to get their arms signed by "the Europeans." People got pictures with them, giggling and whispering at the prospect of talking to them or even standing within 15 feet of them. The TV station was there; the newspaper was all over the place. Everyone seemed to be there.

Honestly, while I am really impressed by the EuroBus and the cool work they do, the thing that stuck with me the most was how amazing my Ukrainian neighbors really are. The genuine hospitality and the effort to make something special here is incredible.

My site mate, a fellow PC volunteer living 3 blocks away from me, is leaving this month, and I am definitely going to miss her. I have never experienced living in this town without her, so it will be a very different last 6-7 months of PC service. Saturday, we had a goodbye party for her, and it was great (ok, minus the goodbye part)!

We'll miss you Rachel; Ukraine won't be quite the same without you in it.

In Nova Kakhovka, on the fine sunny afternoon of today, Stephanie, Rachel and I held a seminar for 25 students. The objective was to discuss the problem of human trafficking in Ukraine and internationally. The group included 9th- and 11th- graders, all who had heard of human slavery, but who learned a lot of new information today.

For about the first 20 minutes, we had technical problems (that is an important part of a seminar -- what's a good seminar without the expected "technical difficulties"?) Thanks to 2 students, we got things to work eventually. While our student technicians were messing around with the electronics to get everything to work, some students made a poster (shown in the picture), and as a group, we asked students, "What do you know about human trafficking? What words come to mind when you think of this phrase?"

Words included -

Prostitution,

Pornography,

Slave,

Slavery,

Children,

Worker

Surprisingly, as we learned from MTV's documentary "Exit" (once we gave up on my 7-year-old Dell and used a student's laptop -- thank you Margaret!), many cases of human trafficking occur in the least expected ways: a victim featured in the film had been dating a guy (locally) for about a year; he was great to her, treated her well, and she trusted him. And after a year of him being her boyfriend, he took her on a trip, only to inform her that he was taking her to the person who had bought her - he had sold her as a prostitute.

The terrible thing is that this is a common scenario.

We then went through the PowerPoint presentation that Rachel had put together and had had translated into Russian; it gave a lot of important statistics, facts, definitions, and most importantly:

527 is a hotline in Ukraine - it is a toll-free call with life:), Kyivstar, MTC, and Beeline phones; people can call the number to report an incident, to voice any concerns, or to check and see if a company they have heard about is a trustworthy company or if they should stay away from any job offers from a specific company.

Thank you to the talented English students for translating our Russian into real Russian, and our English into Russian.

After the seminar, the 8 students who were able to stay after school canvassed around a few locations with a lot of foot traffic. They handed out fliers with the 527 info on it. They got a lot of "thank you"s and "I didn't know that"s; the students' initiative was so impressive.

Unfortunately I only have one picture on my camera (Rachel & Steph have the rest) - this picture is just of the three of us. The students have a bunch of pictures, videos, etc. that will be submitted to the PC 50th anniversary website.

Since I'm pretty close to finishing Peace Corps, it only makes sense to start a blog now... right? I've been lazy with the blog that I half-heartedly set up right before leaving for Ukraine, and sure enough, it's taken me 20 months to write my first entry.

Spring in Ukraine arrived overnight this year, sometime this past week, and it's been driving my students crazy. They can't sit still (I don't blame them), so I have been making my lesson plans less monotonous and less book-focused, and have been making the kids move all over the classroom.

A recent lesson was with a 7th grade group; the theme was "stereotypes." An activity we did as part of the lesson was having the class stand under signs ("agree"/"sometimes"/"disagree") after I read a statement. Only one student stood under "disagree" after I said, "Gay people are bad." She gave her reasoning - "gay people know what they want, and what they want is love." After that, about half of the class changed their minds and stood under the "disagree" sign with her.

So, way to go; I'm very proud of that girl.

That was yesterday; a few days before that was Easter, and Easter in Ukraine is definitely an experience. I was in a small village just outside my site, and my friends and I got up at 3 in the morning to go to church and be blessed with holy water, along with our Easter basket (we filled it with the stuff Ukrainians fill it with - sausage, cheese, bread, chocolate, alcohol of some sort, and of course, Paskha, or Easter bread.)

The next day by the river: