One of the things we are not supposed to do is talk about politics. Its actually quiet a big fat nono. But as there is an election that happened, and another that will occur on my birthday, I feel the need to post a few things about all of this. Lets start shall we?

On sunday in my lovely part of the world, people went to voting places to vote for up to 12 people. Needless to say, there was not a solid winner. What did happen was interesting though.

Yanakovich, the boogy man of the Orange Revolution, pulled in 35-39 percent of the vote, depending on which report you use.

and Tymeshenko, the iron lady of the Orange Revolution, pulled in 23-29 percent of the vote, depending on which report you use.

and Sergie Tigipko, pulled out an amazing 13-16% depending.

What should be examined about this though is this. The top three canidates, and the top two will be the ones that go on. Are the ones that have been very strong in their refusal to allow Ukraine to become part of NATO. Both of these people have at different times stated that they wish to not only become tied to the west, but also renew ties to Russia. In America, I can only expect this to be looked at with apprehension, but America should take notice. We can not force Ukraine into NATO for many in Ukraine, especially in the East and south (where much of the population lives) is not only not inclined towards NATO, in some cases it is extremly anti-NATO.

Recently Yushenko, the current president, who will not be reelected, stated in Western Ukraine (the most 'ukrainian' part of Ukraine) that Tymeshenko would resign the lease of Sevastopol to the Russians in 2012. Where he said it, it was probably meant to bring down her canidacy, but because of modern television it was in every tv set across Ukraine, and even in Russia. Thus making Tymeshenko not only palitable for many Ukrainians who feel they should not move to far away from Russia. But almost down right electable.

So on February 7th, the true referendum on the Orange Revolution will take place. As Tymeshenko and Yanakovich run off against each other. It will be a test for Tymeshenko as many of those who voted and demonstrated for the Orange Revolution, have become disenchanted and now want something new or old, and she will have to paint herself as an outsider who hasnt been able to effect changed because she was not president.

The disillusionment in this part of the world is high after the crumbling of the Orange revolution and its inability to enact change. So though this election is not as scary and volitile, it is much more interesting, and I feel more important for its future.

I will explain this more in about 6 months when I am out of Peace Corps.

More and more, as I am now once again attatched to my addiction, news, I am reading something and they casually mention a name and I have to track that person down, cause I DONT KNOW THEM. Sometimes its a much bigger problem, when the entire article is about them. Its part of the problem with being here in Ukraine. Two examples not entirely related appeared to day. 1 is the news about Sasha Grey's advertisment about having your pets spayed and neutered with PETA. Now I had to google her, and interestingly enough, she's a porn star. But one who does music, movies, and modeling, and is used by some talk shows as a good expert on talking about the adult film industry, which is kind of humorous really.

The other one was kind of jarring. I was reading one of the THOUSANDS of articles about Haiti and the name Preval at the end of a quote, which they didnt say who he was, assuming, maybe accuratly who this person was.

So I went to Wikipedia. Holy shit, thats the president of Haiti. Well I'll be.

There are good things about not knowing people, but also bad. And I feel that I get hit with both right now. Its not as bad as it used to be in Peace Corps for sure, but still. Its a little jarring.

I will be sure to write more about the Crimean tatars here, as they are mos assuredly a major part of my service now. But I want to put here an article I recently wrote. Some people ask me about the Tatars and their name and well... this is the response.

It starts way back around the 8th century AD. This is the first mention of the tribe of Tatar people. It appears on tablets errected near a river that can be found near the Mongolian border. This tribe was one of the many that was forcably conscripted into Chinggis (Gengis) Khans army. From there we go to the Latin word "Tartarus," which means "the infernal regions of Roman and Greek mythology, hence Hell." Some think that St. Louis of France was the first, in 1270, to use this term in relation to the origin of the troops of Chinggis Kahn. By the 14th century this usage had extended to cover the homelands of the Tatars, the area today known as Central Asia, Tatarstan, Crimea, and parts of Ukraine. This area was referred to by Cartographers, authors, and politicians as Tartary, Tartares, or Independent Tartary.

From there the term Tartar was applied by most outsiders to all groups of people of Turkish origin living in this region. And by the early 13th century all the Mongols encountered by outsiders, including incidentally the Russians, were speaking “Tartar”. Thus the misunderstanding of how to pronounce this groups name stems for us from the western world, handed down to us in a delicious sauce we use when eating fish sticks.

In the last article though I made one mistake when discussing their name, that some PCV's in Crimea have pointed out. I called them Tatars. Just plain Tatars.

The thought might be racing through your mind as to how this is significant in the grand scheme of things, but to Crimean Tatars, its monumental. It comes from the political events surrounding and following their deportation from Crimea.

Resolution 5859ss, which called for the deportation of Crimean Tatars from Crimea, calls for “All Tatars to be exiled from the territory of the Crimea.” Thus beginning the Soviet governments plan to curtail the uniqueness of the Crimean Tatars. When finally the Soviet government admitted to its falsified the information about Crimean Tatar help of Nazis, they called them, “Tatars formerly living in Crimea.” And with this statement they made it impossible for Tatars to return to their “home land”, as it stated that they were Tatars, just like the Tatars of the Volga river, or even Tatars who lived just north of the Kazakh border, in Russia. Today, though a large percentage of the population, Crimean Tatars have been lumped into one group with all the other former deportees in the Crimean Constitution, limiting their individual group rights. So even though Crimean Tatar is just a name, its one filled with a powerful ancient and modern history and meaning when said fully and correctly. And thus from this day forth to do not call any group Tartars, of which this group does not exist, but to refer to those whose ancestors are from Crimea by their full name, Crimean Tatars. Even if they live in Queens, NY.

Cold. Lonely cold. Stillness, with the only sound the crunching of ice under your feet as you walk. My ears are cold and I can feel the heel of my sneakers digging into the back of my right foot and I wish I had worn different shoes. Its 11 on a sunday so most of the houses are black, as their occupants have gone to bed, but I've just got back and am taking out the trash.

The pain is like a dull knife just sitting on my heal. I crunch on and can see the beauty of my small village fill out it white. Snow and ice give evenings such a glow, and eerie almost phantismal light shinning from the fields as I walk by them. I havent been gone long, and to be honest, I feel I should have been gone longer, but its nice to be back.

Back where, I wonder as I can feel my ears start to tingle. I forgot my hat back in the house. Back to my village. Its mine, I feel an attachment for sure. To my home. I call it that because after living in this village for almost one and half years it would be hard not to call it home.

This was started as a journal about the art of traveling, and from time to time I have adheared to that. And for those of you still read this after months without posts I applaud you. Yet with all my travelings. To berlin, egypt, here in Ukraine, and past trips as well, there is one thing that is most important in almost every trip. You return home.

The thing I have learned along the way is that home changes. Weather it be the place your family lives or the place your cat does. The place you always fly back to after business trips, or the place you never want to be more than 10 miles from. This home changes, and the joy of traveling is finding new homes. New places to call your own.

This strikes me as I toss my garbage into the pile next to the library, a big dog bounding out of the trash dump as it hits. For this has become my home. Not just a place where my stuff sits and I teach, but my home. Just like I can say Boston and San Francsico are my home.

I begin to ponder this as I crunch back along the roads to my house, where I am sure my cat has eaten the sausauge I had bought for a very late dinner, and the habiscus tea I bought while waiting for a bus today will be drunk with the bread only. Its all ok though, because I am home.

I would like to take this moment to let my parents and friends know that I do still love them and I consider them part of my other homes, but each home, like each love is different. You want to show off your homes to other people. Proudly point to things and say, this is my… and have them go, wow. That being said, I must go. I need to break through the ice to get to the water in my well. Also, next time I go for a midnight walk, I'll remember my hat.

Recently my parents visited, which like many other things, seems to be a Peace Corps tradition for those in their 20’s. Family must come and visit. I though had a rather interesting time. While my parents were here I had decided to pick up a book I had had for a while on the Crimean War. So as I took my parents around Crimea I was reading about the exact areas where I was walking. Directly afterwards I decided to pick up Mark Twains Innocents abroad and read the parts on Crimea.

At first I decided to meet my parents in Kiev so that they could see the capitol of Ukraine. Finding an apartment to rent for a few days is a lot easier and cheaper then finding a hotel room, and so just a few blocks up from Independence Square my parents and I started our quest of Ukraine. We visited the main churches, Independence square, what is called the “cement house”, the arch of brotherhood, Motherland statue, and different restaraunts and bars. My mom was mezmorized while at the motherland statue. A big metal statue of a woman, sword in one hand, shield in another, facing towards the dniper river. This statue, which is also a museum about World War 2 and Ukraine stands out on a hill near a large monastery and church. The day we went there were clouds that threatened rain, which never came, and made this massive statue seem even more powerful and shocking then it already was. As we left this tribute to those who fought and died against the Nazis, and to the glory of Communism in this struggle we saw an advertisement at the entrance for a BMW car. This drastic juxtipostion is a feeling that always seems to hide under the surface of the culture here in Ukraine these days.

Next we took a long train ride down to Crimea and after an evening of relaxing we went to Yalta and the Lavadia Palace.

Mark Twain on Yalta “To me the place reminds me of the Sierras”

This is a very apt feeling about parts of the southern coast of Crimea. The hills appear to be out of the Sierra Nevadas, but crash down into the light blue water of the Black Sea.

Two days later, on the exact day that the British moved into their home in Balaklava, my parents and I went to Sevastopol and Balaklava for lunch.

Mark Twain on the battle grounds around Sevastopol, which could be said about anyplace really in Crimea “These fearful fields, where such tempests of death used to rage, are peaceful enough now; no sound is heard, hardly a living thing moves about them, they are lonely and lent- their desolation is complete.”

It was strange to be reading about the battles of Inkerman as we moved on our slow moving bus towards Sevastopol. And then using maps in the book to realize that on our way back to Simferopol we were riding down what is called “The Valley of Death” which is where the Charge of the light brigade occurred. Forever immortalized in the poem.

“Forward the Light Brigade!

Was there a man dismayed?

Not though the soldiers knew

Some one had blundered:

Their’s not to make reply

Their’s not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die;

Into the valley of Death

Rode the Six Hundred”

This is nothing new I am sure for those who live in this lovely little piece of earth, but for someone from America where we do not have this exact kind of history just floating around in every small town and along almost every creek.

Needless to say, I think my parents enjoyed the trip, but I think I got more out of it then they did.

I would like to take this time to point out some big things that are happening around me in this month that History of this part of the world seems to enjoy.

20 Years ago, the berlin wall came down in an interesting case of people not being fully informed, and down coming the wall.

Where as 93 years ago this month the Bolsheviks took over the post office of St. Petersburg starting the revolution that lead to the creation of the berlin wall.

100 Years ago, the small village I lived in became a town. On its 5th birthday world war 1 was in full swing, by its 8th birthday it had been taken over by red army. Around its 19th birthday it was part of a famine that struck much of the soviet union, but especially the western areas in what is now Ukraine, Crimea, Belarussia. On its 30th birthday the soviet union together with Nazis Germany attacked Poland beginning World War 2 (here known as the great patriotic war). On its 34th birthday German soilders were stationed IN the village, as they tried to attack the partisans who lived in the forest and mountains near my village. On its 36th birthday the Tatars in the area had been rounded up and shipped out not to be able to return until its 80th birthday. By its 40’s the soviet union was engaged in a Cold War with the United states. In its late fifties it became part of The Ukrainian Socialist Republic. On its 70th birthday, members of the community were shipped out for the first time to fight in Afghanistan. Around its 80th birthday, the Crimean Tatars who were shipped out were allowed to come back finally. Around its 82nd birthday the soviet union fell, and Crimea became part of the new country of Ukraine. Now as it marks its 100 years of being here on this earth my village is slowly becoming an example of interracial cooperation, at least I think so, with many people working together.

I am back, for a week, to the land of big cars, urban sprawl, and lots of food on your plate at meals. Like unhealthy amounts of food on your plate.

My best friend from high school is getting married this weekend, so I have flown 20 some hours to Austin, Tx for 5 days, no kidding only five days. Granted I am in Texas, so things are a bit different down here then most places in America, but still. The strangeness started before I even left Ukraine.

I dont know about you, but when I fly somewhere, unless I am used to it, I get kind of jittery, and get butterflies in my stomach, and all of that jazz. But this time it was more. I felt like I did when I was flying to Ukraine in the first place, like Oh man, this is a new country, what am I going to feel or see, or smell. The excitement of the new. But its not new, its America, its austin, I've been to austin.

And yet when I got off the plane in Chicago I was floored. After rushing through the airport to get from the international terminal to the domestic one. I stopped and walked around. A lot. The book stores, the places to eat. The tv shows. It was all like I had stepped through a worm hole and was looking at a new world, and thats when it hit me. I'm a foreigner now.

I feel like a foreigner in US and in Ukraine.

Some things that struck me the most since I got here a few days ago.

1. Food, sizes and types.- This was HUGE. I was sitting looking at what people were eating in the restraunts in the airport disgusted. How could you eat that? It doesnt even resemble food. where is the one vegitable, that isnt deep fried (granted that is kind of Ukrainian thing too, but still).

Where is the bread, and why for the love of god, is there enough meat on that one guys plate for two families in my village. MEAT SHOULDNT BE THE BIGGEST THING IN THE MEAL!

2. Cars... My friend rented a car and this car... here its the cheapest, Ukraine... its definetly not. at all.

3. Urban sprawl.- This is such an american thing that we dont even think about it. Where I am staying is about as far away from down town austin as where I live in Ukraine is away from Simferopol, but on the way from Downtown to this place there is constant housing and gas stations and shops and food and the like, seriously.

4.Me. I am kind of in awe of a lot of things. AC, flushing toilets. Hot water.... always, that you can mix with cold water. Water pressure. Shag carpeting. easy access to clothes and apple stores. Mexican food. Rootbeer, Dr. Peper. cool baseball hats. Movies I can understand really well.

Internet access almost anywhere I go.

Its just weird. that is all.

OWO march 15th

Do you love the women in your life? I mean do you REALLY love the women in your life? All of them? Not just your wife or girlfriend, but the women you buy your groceries from. How about your neighbor who has a thousand and one cats? Do you ever tell them?

In America we have a holiday for mothers, we have a holiday for grandmothers, and even one for secretaries (or so I am told). We have one for our wives/girlfriends (Valentines Day), and we have one for our siblings (its their birthday Noah). But what if we combined those? That’s right, all of those days in one. A day where we celebrate every women we come into contact with on a regular basis, and even those we don’t, and we just see.

For men in the US I am sure you are thinking, oh man, that’s got to become expensive. And it is. Especially since you are supposed to get flowers/candy/wine/a nice gift and or card for your female co-workers (I am a teacher so only three of my co-workers AREN'T women), your landlady (I have 3/4 I got gifts for), girlfriend (if you got it), and any other girls/women you know. So in the end… a lot of candy/flowers/cards.

But International Womens Day (it is actually international), is kind of a good idea, that I like a lot. Why? Well first, there is also Soilders Day, which is like Man's Day, so its not one sided, well not as one sided. And two, as anyone who knows me will say, I am horrible at remembering dates, so remembering one date only would be AWESOME. Also you get everyone with this. What if a women/girl has no husband/boyfriend on Valentines day. Or no children on Mothers day, or is you know NOT a secretary. Or a combo of all of these, which isnt really out of the realm of posibility in the world. How do you celebrate that woman, especially if she doenst tell you her birthday. You give her lots of flowers and say thank you for everything she does on Womens day, March 8th.

So what did we do in my little slice of heaven? Well on the actual day there was a party at my local Club. Its called culture house in some towns, or even Culture palace. But as one of my friends explained to her very Russian grandma, this isnt a palace, and using house is kind of a nice way of wording it. Band playing, music, competitions, stories about how married people met, and their first dates, which was hilarious. Couples eating bannanas competition, and then the competition I non-surprising lost, lifting weights over your head.

I went with two of my friends from the area who are American and they very much enjoyed themselves, it was good fun for the whole… well maybe just the older parts of the family.

I strongly encourage the US to adopt this holiday, and get rid of the other mamsy pamsy holidays it has.

OWO 4-10-09

A few weeks ago I wrote from the tiny, and I mean tiny, country of Moldova/MoldovIa (depending on where you are in the world). When I was there it was cold, wet, and right before we left there was a 45 minuet blizzard. We went there and spent less then 28 hours in the country so to say that I saw a lot of it would be a lie.

But what I did see were posters, lots and lots of posters for different political parties in the upcoming political elections. The Communists said, “Vote for us and get through the crisis together.” The Green party said, “Vote for us to stop the communist.” And those were the ones I easily translated. Needless to say voting in this neck of the woods is a little hard to explain, and right now I will not begin to try to discribe it.

But the most interesting thing I saw in regards to this election was what I will term "the pasting wars". People from different parties would walk around the downtown area of the Capitol which I forgot how its spelled in English, but its pronounced in my villaged something like Kishanayou, but has a Ch at the beginning. These people would be a one man team and would walk up to the places that you are allowed to post bills and they would throw up posters for their party. No more then 10 minuets later, and usually around 1 to 2 minuets later, another one man team would come up and post its posters over the posters of the other party. This continued almost all the time that me and my travel companions were outside. I think I saw about 15 different people putting up posters as we walked around town in the cold drizzle.

But the more interesting aspect came after we left.

For those who don’t follow the news of Moldova (and people even here don’t follow it so I don’t blame you if you don’t), there were riots or revolts or demonstrations depends on who you talk to in the streets this week after the communists won 50% of the parliament in Moldova. Now, a large percentage of the votes going to the communist party was expected, after all, this is the only former soviet country to elect a communist president, but 50% was high for a lot of peoples taste.

So, using, facebook, twiter, and myspace (probably контактий- russian facebook), young people *think my age * held a demonstration on monday. A few thousand people showed up. The next day they held another, both of these demonstrations were called «I am not a Communist». The second day, there was violence. Rocks being thrown, the presidential offices were set on fire, and things stolen from it and other government buildings. Now all sides are blaming each other, with finger shaking and speeches, and denouncements. But I hold that it was bound to come to this when there was a war going on before the election, a Pasting war.

Who are you, and what have you done with… me?

Owo 4/24/09

As of late my mind has been racing over my last year of being here. How I have changed and become a different person. Part of this is my normal reflective self, but the other part is within a little over a month I will be headed back to the US for the first, and only, time while in Peace Corps. I know some of you will be saying, WAAAITT. Or Подо жди! Didn’t you say that you were not going to be coming back to the US while you were in Peace Corps?

True, but my best friend from school will be getting married, and that is very hard to miss to be sure. Thus I will be flying for around I think 22 hours and landing, about 10 hours after I take off on the same day. I will be in Austin Texas, where I will be in the company of people who were the last people to see me in the United States.

Kevin drove me to the airport on m last day in San Francisco, when I was filled with angst, and slight panic. He humored me by letting me listen to my Ipod on the way to the airport and decided that he would go to the music store after dropping me off to look for a few albums if I remember correctly. Then there is Noah, arguably my best friend, period. Sorry to anyone else who thought they might hold the title, but for all of his faults Noah is without a doubt my best friend. Being here in Ukraine has just proven the point even more so. Noah came to visit me when I was in San Fran before I came here and the last few days I was wondering how much I’ve changed and yet stayed the same.

I can tell from the times I’ve talked with Noah, that in some ways I am similar to the same person I was, but I am no longer scared to walk into a random town in a country I have never been to before and in ask in one of the three languages I kind of know, if I can get a drink. I am interested in Noah’s insight when I see him in Texas, where I will see him when I am not at a wedding.

This morning as I was walking to school through my town, saying my morning « Доброе Утро» to the dogs, cows, goats, turkeys, and even the few horses I sometimes see along my walk, I thought about what my mom told me a little over two years ago. I had been offered a job at the organization I had been working for, I was a high end intern. She said and I am paraphrasing « I don’t care if they offer you 90.000 a year, you go to Peace Corps for one reason. It is going to change you in ways I can not even begin to imagine right now. You will come back a different person.» She is right, but besides me dislike of the big american house, I can not think of anything that I can pinpoint as a change.

But still, when I look at myself in pictures that my friends and girlfriend have of me, I can't help but think… who is that? That can't be me. Its not the mirror that I can't recognize the person, its only photos. But maybe after the full two years, the mirror will be a stranger as well.

Its spring break in the land of blue and gold, and for those of you who do not know, teachers normally dont get spring breaks, at all. Well at least not here. Because most schools dont use computerized grading, or roll call sheets, or in the case of my school even have a photocopier, they spend almost all of spring break at school writing out kids names 500 times, and making sure all their grades are done correctly, and that they have written in the lesson plans of what they have been teching the kids of Ukraine.

As I am not one of the lucky teachers who gets to do this, I have decided to spend my time away from site. *gasp* I know shocking. But J (from summer trip earlier) and I decided that Odessa was the way to go and are joined up by the lovely Anne (second germarican that I have met *coincidently, she loves that name Jasmin*), and for part of the trip by M another lovely young lady.

Anne lives in Crimea as well, but she lives near J up north, and this was the second time I've ever seen her really. She came to this lovely country only well... in Sept. so only really isnt true. M, lives far away, up in north eastern Ukraine, up near Lugansk. She came in the group before J and I and is really good at russian, like, REALLY good.

So odessa. For those who do not know, and for that you have to have not read my blog ever before, or you just peruse and dont really remember anything I write anyways, this was my second time to Odessa. The last time I went was over 10 years ago, when I was 14. I remember walking up the stairs, and getting really tired, and going around in soviet buses, being really hot, stopping infront of this big church where kids sold us wooden tops and spoke shockingly good english. And the highlight of my Odessa trip, was getting hit on by what I thought was an 18 year old, but probably was a 13 year old.

I can see Noah's eyes lighting up now, and thinking, AH HA! thats why you got so interested.

But back to the stairs. The stairs are some of the most famous stairs in the world really. Even more famous then the ones in Philly that Rocky runs up, more famous then the stairs where someone famous once got shot. These stairs are famous for a few reasons.

One being they used to lead right to the sea port so if you came off the ship and you wanted to go into odessa you had to walk up, all... these... steps. The second is that they are fairly long, though in my 25 year old 137lb body they are a lot shorter then when I was 14 and weighed like 5 or 6 lbs more. But the third is as movie, The Battleship Potemkin.

Anyone who has ever wanted to work on movies, and studied it in college had to watch this movie at somepoint. Its good, dont get me wrong, but its long, its a silent movie, and its about a mutiny on a ship, which then docks in Odessa. The stairs come in with a baby carriage going down every single step.

As you walk these steps you cant help but think of that baby carage bouncing down the steps today, hitting the road at the bottom and then running into the car store thats across from the base of the steps.

But Odessa with its beauty wasnt enough for us insane peace corpians. Three of us, sadly M had to go get teeth pulled, decided we would go to Moldova (or Moldovia). For those of you who a) do not know of this country, b) know of it, but dont know anything about it, or c) know about it, and where it is, but dont care. You cant really be blamed.

Moldova (the Romanian way of spelling it), or Moldovia (the Russian way of spelling it) has had a worse off history then Ukraine in the being taken over part. It has been tossed around like a rugby ball of eastern europe for a few thousand years. And because of that has a very difficult language issue, and a more interesting population issue.

I wanted to go, after a few words from J to push me to go, because it is now my mission to see every former soviet republic, and well, this is the one that people who do what I want to do dont do. No one really comes here. And I dont know why.

Moldova Republic is quite beautiful country side, and has good wine. It has better supermarkets then all of Ukraine, and its capitol has clean/er streets then many of them that I have walked down. It has the lovely turkish speaking portion of the country that is more of an autonomous republic (like Crimea), and then there is the country within a country (Transneister *or dneister*) This area actually fought a war with Moldova in the early 90's and now is its own pseudo country. It is recognized by no one, but it is strongly recommended that you dont go visit it, unless you pine of the days when Communism ruled the land in this area. Sadly, I will not get to see it this trip, but maybe next time.

But the more interesting thing about all of this is the realization that as Americans, we do not think about border crossings at all. The border between Ukraine and Moldova is a very interesting thing, and to cross it (yesterday) took us not one, not two, but almost three hours

to go about half a mile.

Even in America the borders we cross are not that long, unless there are a lot of cars coming through, and I can garuntee you, there were not a lot of cars on the road.

But I am now here, in the capitol of this lovely country, and whats the first thing we do when we get here? We do what most peace corps volunteers do when they go to a different country, we went to the grocery store. Just to look, and man... am I glad we looked.

But to conclude, I feel that every American needs to go through a real border crossing at least once, and that everyone should go somewhere they havent been for 10 or more years and see how drastically it has changed, because Odessa, wow, not what I remembered at all.

In peace corps we have these things called working groups. We focus on specific tasks and in the end you have worked in a certain area of the culture or on specific problems. theres the ecology aka environmental group, there is the HIV/AIDS group, the disabilities group, and I am now a member of... the GAD group. Which covers gender problems and homophobia in this great country. So working on Domestic Violence, LGBT issues, and the reason I joined, Human Traffiking.

For some of you reading this, this may be the first time you have heard that I am interested in Human Traffiking, for others, you may have heard me talk about it a lot. kind of like noah knows I am in the second world, not the third. Anyways, I will be doing different projects while I am here to work with those who are returning, to working to prevent the possibility of people being traffiked. So that lead me to come to kiev on my loverly birthday.

I forgot to do one important thing though. We have rules about informing people of our travel. And I informed my local contacts, I informed my pc contacts, I just forgot to inform my Regional Manager, the man who overseas all the peace corps volunteers in the area. Since wednesday we have a meet your neighbors meeting, there is a practice of the emergency measures which means that I should call everyone, since I seem to have become the Warden of my district. But as my phone died, and I have no chance to get to everyone I got into a small amount of trouble.

See my problem? I very rarely leave my site as it is, so when I do I sometimes forget to inform my regional manager until I am at the train station, but since I was running late, this time I forgot to call him.

Anyways, Yesterday was my birthday, and contrary to Ukrainian tradition I did not prepare food or buy liquor for the masses. Instead I was with a bunch of Americans eating a cheeseburger at NOT mcdonalds and then drinking a Guiness at an Irish bar... mmmmmm how I missed your sweet sweet taste.

Today I went to an old street in Kiev that has kiosks on both sides selling chasky and t-shirts, and all sorts of stuff. And I bought three things.

One) a picture of Hreshatik street after it Kiev was bombed in world war 2. Its shockingly cool.

2) a poster that says in russian " Have you answered the call to volunteer?" its really quiet funny.

and

3) a tee-shirt with cheburashka on it, that has him wearing a small buret and a star and it says, Che Byrashka. If you know this loveable russian cartoon this is hilarious, if not, check it out here.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cheburashka

All in all a great birthday. I missed my family and friends, and though I may be in trouble for not telling my RM where I was I hope all will be ok.

Until next time, watch some Russian Cartoons already.

OWO 1/16/09

This was written by one of my students, I corrected grammar and spelling mistakes to make it easier to read. It was originally written for a correspondance thing I am doing but I figured you all might like to read this as well. I do have points where I explain some things she says, but for the most part, this is all her.

Hello, my name is Veronika. I am 14 years old and live in Crimea. I am in the 11th form, and live at my grandmothers apartment. I am Russian nationality. This is my last year of school, and I am happy to be graduating. Next year I will go to Medical college where I want to become a surgeon. I am now taking classes at the medical college.

I have two sisters. They live in Moscow. One works for trip agency, the other is student. She studies psychology (Sisters is what they call their female cousins, Brothers is what they call male cousins. I know its confusing, believe me)

Crimea is an Autonomous Repulic. We have more freedom then other oblasts (these are like states) in Ukraine. It is very beautiful place. My favorite town is called Balaklava. (small fishing town near Sevastopol, known for formerly being the Submarine repair town in the black sea and some of the best hidden beaches in the former Soviet Union) We have many famous towns in Crimea. Sevastopol and Kerch were Hero cities. (I don’t know why this is important to say, but to her it was very important. A hero city was city that was bombarded heavily during World War 2 by the Nazis. Many Crimeans are proud that they have not one but two Hero Cities)

I sleep a lot, and like to play computer games and work on internet. Small village is boring sometimes. At night I go walking with my friends, and in the day I go to school.

In the summer I like to go to the sea. The Black Sea is around Crimea, and many people come here in the summer. I also help my mother in the garden, and help her clean vegitables in the summer. I hope to go to America someday. Tell me about California.

A few points.

1) the gardens here are little plots of land. The house I live in has one. Its about a half acre, maybe more, maybe less. And people plant, potatoes, tomatoes, cucumbers, peas, peppers, berries, carrots, corn, Fruit trees, cabbage, spices, hot peppers. Any vegitable that grows in this climate is planted in these gardens. They are very important in village life, and for many people, these gardens are how they are able to survive on their small salaries. Example: teachers get 800 Grv for one month. Bread costs 3 grv. Gas for one month is 50 Grv. If you have children or a bigger house, or have ot rent a place to live. Salaries don’t go far.

For those mathimatically inclined. One US Dollar is 8.80 Grv right now. How much does a teacher make a month?

2) I actually lived for three months with this girls mother and uncle. She lives with her Grandmother, but her mother lives about a 5 to 6 minuet walk away.

3) This girl and her mother had a fight when I lived with them one night. This is how the fight went.

Mom: Why don’t you want to be a dentist?

Daughter: Because I don’t want to stare at peoples teeth, I want to look at peoples hearts.

Mom: But theres no money in that. You can't make a living here by being a surgeon.

Ect. Ect.

Now, imagine you are parents out there. If you had this argument with your 14 year old daughter, who is actually taking classes at that moment to be a heart surgeon. Would you be trying to say NOOO DON’T BE A SURGEON! Or would you be saying, who are you? How old are you? You want to do what? Ya go ahead. I must have done something right.

If you are the former, you need to take a look at your life, because your life is better then you imagine it to be.

4) one of the things I cut out of the letter is that she thinks school is not important but college is very very important. I cut it out because I do not think that children need to be told school is not important. But I put it here because it is an interesting example of a different thought process

That’s all for updates right now. Stay tuned for….

-2 to 10 degrees Centigrade in 2 days, aka «For some this is just a Fairtale, For us its normal life»

OWO 1/16/09

A Holiday so good, they have to have it twice

My New Years Eve and parties before have ranged from the insane, bars dancing making out with coat check girl, to the tame, sitting on a couch watching TV and going to bed at 12:15 (that was 2000). For most Americans that I know, it’s a time for a party, maybe some binge drinking if you’re younger, or even if you are older. Watching, now, Ryan Seacreast ring in the new years in New York. Watching fireworks in some cities. Kissing a random person, or a loved one. It’s a holiday, and it is one of the big ones. But here in Ukraine it’s something more. It’s as if someone decided to combine five holidays in one, and then shake it up and then pop cork out of the bottle. Imagine if you will, Christmas, New Years, Halloween, a bit of a wedding, and the Forth of July, all happening at the same time, in the same exact place. Now if you can imagine half of that, you are probably Noah, if you get to Noah’s level you are getting close to what New New Years is like here, that’s not a typo, there’s Old New Year too, I’ll get to that.

Some New Years traditions for all:

Schooling and the lack of:

School doesn’t get out until the very end of December, this year the last day of classes before the winter vacation was the 26th of December, and just this week school started again. Just in time for a massive snowstorm and for all the kids to start in the next tradition…

FIREWORKS!!!!- Starting about a month before New New Years stands go up basically everywhere something is sold, and these stands each have more fireworks then all of Chinatown in San Francisco has combined. Big, like professional style, to mini blow your fingers off firecrackers. These start going off at night starting about a week before New Years, now to be honest fireworks and firecrackers go off almost every weekend here in my village, but these fireworks are much more copious and all of the family gets into it. I saw a two-year-old lighting, holding and then at the last moment throwing a big firework a few days ago, followed by his grandfather lighting a big display, it was really quiet beautiful. But that was for Old New Years. J- who I spent New Years with pointed out another more annoying tradition of lightening off fireworks in broad daylight. That was added to a list of things he hates in the world.

Costumes, costumes, cost….is that a dancing bear tree???

I saw this costume at a bar I went to for all of 30 minuets on New Years Eve. The guy seemed to have combined the Stanford Tree with a bear costume. I my language was not good enough to ask him why, or who he was supposed to be, but that seemed to just blow my mind. Most people have masquerade masks or crazy hats, or Santa hats. The hats start getting worn a few days before New Years; people also dye their hair for the celebrations. Kids dress up in a myriad of outfits and in my town hold a pageant on the 2nd of the New Year to show everyone the costumes they wore, and to sing songs. Any reason for a concert is taken in this town, which I like, cause I love it when these kids show off their shockingly numerous talents. We had everyone from spider man to Snow Princess (not sure if that’s a good translation), to my favorite me. One of the second graders dressed up as me, and he spoke only in English or in accent Russian, it was funny.

Grandfather Frost and his Granddaughter Snow Princess (?)

This guy looks like Santa Clause, minus being fat. He is very skinny, but still old, in a long red and white robe, with a white beard, and he has a Granddaughter who is always with him. A lovely blonde haired, pale skinned teenage girl, who wares all white/blue dress/long winter coat, who, in every movie I saw on TV, never talks but always falls in love with the hapless village young man. Santa Clause is called Ded Moroz (ДЕД МОРОЗ) literally translated grandfather frost. He also brings you presents and anywhere you go in a major city you are sure to see Frost and his granddaughter there to find out what little kids want for Christmas, and for some to sell you different SIM cards. These two are important for New Years not Christmas. As a matter of fact, many «Christmas» traditions are New Years traditions here, due to the fact I think that A) New Years comes first in this part of the world, and B) New Years was more openly allowed then Christmas in the recent past (less than 20 years ago this place was Communist people).

Presents on New Years morning under the… New Years Tree???

Ok it’s the Christmas tree, and it’s the Christmas presents, but guess what??? It has none of the pretense of combining it with religion, which I feel kind of better about it. Its not trying to commercialize religion. The New Years trees go up in many of the houses around New Years Eve, for some families its even one of the things to do ON new years eve is to put up and decorate the tree. Its kind of a race against the clock at that point. But either way, many families in my village, Muslim, Christian, non-religious, and the one Jewish family I've met, all have New Years trees under which the kids get presents on New Years morning.

Bird Seed, singing, and now… give me money.

One of the more bizzare traditions that I've seen deals with bird seed. Basically teenagers go around and ring peoples door bells, stand near stores, go around to teachers houses, and throw bird seed at them, and then sing. Afterwards you are supposed to give them money. Not because you want to, but because a) tradition and b) they will continue to do it until you give them money. I have not had this happen to me. I have now seen it, and I have heard high tale of this interesting tradition. It usually starts on New Years Jan. 1st and goes to Old New Years Jan. 14th.

Decorate your house, your car, your Marshrutka

For those who do not know, a Marshrutka is basically a bus in this part of the world, but they are nice comfortable buses you get in America not a school bus, or public transit buses. It is how you get from point a to b if you don’t have a car, and if there is no train/ you don’t want to take the train. These get DECKED OUT. Christmas lights recently seemed to have hit the market in this part of the world in the last 5 or 6 years and the obsession is hitting unseen hights. On the 1st I was in the most well lit Marshrutka I have ever been in because of the number of christmas lights twinkling. There was also tinsel, boyas and a small christmas tree in the front of the Marshrutka. The Marshrutka driver was also dressed up like Father Frost, so to say it was an interesting ride would be understating everything drastically. Car hoods, and the insides of cars were also decked out. The only other time I have seen this is if the cars are part of a wedding procession, and they have two big fake rings tied to their hoods and flowing ribbions, but what in the united states might be found on peoples front lawns and roofs, could be found on a few of the cars I saw driving around Simferopol. As for houses those are more tame, usually christmas lights in the window and maybe being able to see the Christmas tree, otherwise, knee cheevo (nothing) to see.

Now there were many similar traditions. Usually you meet with your family on the 31st or the 1st and talk about the past year and for the family I'm on the best terms with, everyone gives a toast to one good thing that will happen to someone else at the table that year. (I am going to find a wife supposedly) Champagne is the drink of choice. Bars, Restraunts, Clubs, and «Cultre Houses» are sold out a few months in advance and therefore it’s a good idea to reserve places anywhere ahead of time because everyone likes to spend New Years surrounded by many other people. Friends, family, and friends they have yet to make.

With a holiday this amazing you cant do it just once. So in true amazing fashion, after few days (14 to be exact) and then do it again only to a lesser degree.

This is Old New Years.

There is usually a smaller party, not as many people getting as crazy. There was a party in the culture house (the building in every village that holds plays, concerts, the club for teenagers on the weekend) in my village, with people bringing their own food. Music played by many different bands that my village has, a small fireworks display at 10 and then off to bed, because it was a wednesday night. Now why Old? New years?

A great question. In 1900 Russia and Eastern Europe followed a different calander and it wasn’t until I believe Stalin, that the Soviet Union adopoted the Georgian Calander, which we all follow in the West. This is why some interesting historical events didn’t actually happen when we say they happened. The Bolshevic revolution in 1917, called the October revolution, did not actually happen in October for example.

For some of my younger, and I mean 10-12, not the 23 year olds, you may now be wondering, what I meant by New New Years comes before Christmas. Christmas here is on January 7th, that’s why school doesn’t get out until the end of December. Why the 7th?

Well, for those of you who know the Bible it took 12 days for the Magi, or three wise men to get to Jesus after he was born. The Catholics celebrate the birth of Christ, and the Orthodox Christians here celebrate, as someone said, «the first Christmas». Now I know 25 of December to the 7th of January is not exactly 12 days, but I know that originally it was 12 days later. My new friend in St. Petersburg did celebrate it on the 6th of December. I know this is a lot of information but there is one more thing you should read, because well, I didn’t write it.

I finally moved into my own place. After 9 months in country and 8 moves this year, I am in my own place. two rooms two kitchens, one outhouse and one solar heated shower... BOYA!

Here's the thing, I feel that 9 months ago I wouldnt have found my house.

When we started Peace Corps and even before that, I was told that head hunters (one of my friends is now a happily ex-head hunter), search for two FORMER jobs that people have. One of them is military leadership. That one is a definate no brainer. The other one is having been a Peace Corps volunteer. And it wasnt until this ordeal occured that I realized why.

In a country where you can speak the language fluently, its rather easy to find a house, maybe not one you can move into right away, but you know how to find one, and if you speak the language really well, you know the rules of ettiquette also.

For peace corps volunteers, that usually is not the case. There are always a few that have already MASTERED the language, or are just fluent *cough* N----a* cough*. But we do not know the language, we wont even be 100% fluent when we leave. maybe 60% (i'm around 50% right now, and its nice) But the reason that people look for Peace Corps on the application is because we learn how to almost move mountains without any language.

I started looking for a house a month ago, but i wasnt really asking anyone. Then I asked a few people and they stated, ya sure. After a week, nothing was happening so I literally asked EVERY PERSON I SAW. I befriended kids who had never talked to me in school to show me around and introduce me to their neighbors after class, I pestered my director (i am sure he loved that). But in the end it was the fact that I had gone out of my way to also befriend every adult that I worked with. I told one adult kind of off hand that I was having trouble finding a place to live, by the end of the day I was sleeping in my own bed... well it was sonmeone elses but i sleep there now.

Peace corps makes you push yourself into very very uncomfortable conditions. Have you ever walked up to 50 people one after another, in a language you dont know and say, I want to live by myself, do you have a place I could rent, and then get yelled at by some, laughed at by others, questioned by all, and still keep doing it?

One of my friends state side said this when I asked him this question.

Its like all the good politicians in the world. They know what needs to be done, but everyone is going to try and stop them from doing it.

So in conclusion, Peace Corps volunteers are sought after because they can get their own houses. nice little thought.

I sat on the bumpy bus, my head leaning against the window waiting for sleep to come. I knew that it should, I hadnt slept the night before, and the weekend before was trains, party, trains, more trains, and then school. So I knew that I had to be tired, but my body couldnt fall asleep. I shut my eyes and the bus shook and jumped heavily to the side, almos throwing me into the ilse.

Two girls behind me laughed, and as I turned around to look at them I realized I had been watched for the last 30 minuets of bus travel.

I was on my way to Evapatoria on the north western coast of Crimea to watch the election on a friends computer. It was going to be a night of cheeseburgers, pie, politics, and well being Americans. And as excited as I was I was in awe of how much other people knew about what was going on. the previous two days I had recieved 6 phone calls from students telling me the following

1) Barack Obama's grandmother had died.

2) Did I vote? If not, I needed to.

3) The economy of America was weak and getting weaker, but they thought that Obama had the better economic plan (no joke a 10th former told me this on the phone)

4) Ukraine had recieved an IMF loan (they wanted to know what organization or country controlled the IMF)

5) Questions on who was Ralph Nader, and who was Alan Greenspan (i didnt ask what news item might have brought them up)

and lucky number

6) Did I know the election was happening soon?

I had conversations with teachers, with my director, with the Marshrutka driver, and kids parents. I even tried to explain in russian the electoral college vote to one teacher, the history teacher, then stopped because its kind of hard to explain if you dont know electoral, college, senate, or house of representitives in russian.

I had had toasts to Obama the future president of America, and one bizare toast to Virgina the best state in America and one that will vote for the next president.

Needless to say this election has been insane. My brother said I was lucky to be leaving the US in March before it got insane, and I guess he was right, but its more insane to watch an election in a foreign country.

Eventually one of the girls came up to me and asked me if I was from England. I said I was from America and we talked about the election a bit, as that was my reason for going to where she was going.

At the end of the conversation she looked at me and said in Renglish "I know that you may think one of the canidates is bad and one is good, but they are both smart, and hard working. Look at other countries in Africa or Asia, we should all be lucky, but most arent."

And with that I watch Obama win the Presidency and when he was giving his speech I thought back to when I worked in DC in 2005 and we were thorwing around what the best presidential election would be. One between Barack Obama and Jon McCain was the hands down winner, and I watched the massive throngs of people in Chicago, and massive group of people in Phoneix and I thought to myself, "We should all be lucky."

They all gave me weird life lessons that have led me to where I am right now, and all of those little lessons have been politically based.

I know noah will read the title of this article and sit aghast that he is not in the mix, but he aint the most political person I know, at all.

A few days ago as I rode in the dark on a bus the jumped and bumped more times then a kangaroo in a war zone, I had to sit back and realize what made me get to where I was then, so excited I hadnt been able to sleep in two days, in Ukraine, on my way to watch the election on a computer 90 miles away from where I currently am living. Here is where my mind went.

For those who have never had to deal with me talking, this will be an adventure in why its impossible to follow what I have to say.

When I was younger my fathers father used to show me and my brother different things he had in the house and explain their history and their meaning. There were vases, statues, canes, clocks, eggs, prayer bowls, maps and pictures. The number one thing I ever remember him talking about, all of them, was a picture that used to scare me. It was of a man who had six legs and was sitting in a military uniform that was red. He had a turban on and he was cleaning his gun from the looks of it. His black beard had a bit of grey and a bit of red, and there was a blue sash that went across his body. The story behind his picture is unlike most of the other things that were bought and paid for somewhere in the world, by someone at the time, I was told that this was a picture painted by a relative, who wanted to capture an Ottoman Empire soilder at rest. The end of the story went as follows, I wrote this down a few years ago so I wouldnt forget it, though some is probably already lost. "The picture is one of the only things left of the empire in a way that few saw it even at the time of its existance, from the eyes of an outsider. Soon after, like everything after a time, the empire died and the rest of the world went on living."

At the same time, I was hearing stories from my other grandfather of when he was in Brazil, with his family (my mother and her siblings), in the late fifties early sixties (they left due to the military coup of 1964 if I remember correctly). This also marked an interesting taste of poltics as well as foreign lands and as a young boy who was becomingly increaslingly interested in history these two things made me want to learn even more.

Now, Maria Shriver. When I was 13 maybe 14 I got in my stocking a book by maria shriver. It was the things you should do before you die. I really dont know why I got the book. Maybe my mom wanted to read it but wanted to have a reason for buying it, either way I read the book and forgot almost everything in it within a year. Except for one thing. She has one chapter in there on traveling with her father as they tried to help her Uncle Ted Kennedy run for the Democratic nominee. In this book she says, I dont care if its licking envelopes or buying bagels, work on a campaign once in your life and you'll never forget it. I remembered that advice and in my senior year of college with those words actually in my head, I worked on the Deval Patrick race in Massachusettes, in which he became the second black governor in US history. She was right, it made me thurst for politics more, so i began reading a lot, and actually stumbled (it was hidden in a used book story) onto Obama's second book. I read it and after finishing it started my Peace Corps application. I couldnt tell you the exact passages that were in there, but something in that book made me do this because I knew that I had to do something, and sitting at home wouldnt do anything at all.

Then my parents, my mom who always worries but always supports, and my dad who always supports and also says, "If you aren't having fun, do something else." They for the last four years have felt more like a) mentors and b)examples then parents, and maybe thats what parents are supposed to become. But after long hours of round table discussions when I am home (these would go from 7-10 or 11 easy) I realized more firmly what I do and do not believe in and they have supported whatever path I have taken, or at least faked supporting well enough that I honestly dont think they faked it.

Then last there is Jasmin. Jasmin who calls herself Germerican, but to me is more German than American, and not really all that American at all has explained to me the interresting aspects of politics in Germany, what her friends think back in German, and shown me how many sides there are to every story and every history.

All of this came to me within a 3 minuet time frame of staring out the window watching statues (which if you literally translated the Russian word for it means Little memories) float by as they stood against the black sky with the moon shinning on them facing the black sea. So really I guess wha this post is supposed to say is a thank you to all of those and also to explain why my posts meander, swirl, dive, and sometimes crash. Its because I have too many weird thoughts way too fast.

10/13/08

About a month ago my grandmother died. I knew the last time I sat in her room overlooking the Pacific ocean that it would be the last time I saw her really. The way you get that feeling when you look at someone and you know something is going to happen.

I received the phone call the following day and night and my immediate worry was for my mother, who has been through so much and now this, and I felt guilty for being here in Ukraine and not at home. But I stayed because I knew that if I went home it would mean I might not come back.

It took me a few days to tell anyone in Ukraine about it. It was hard not to say the words in English or Russian without a slight hint of anger in my voice those first few days. And it wasn’t anger at my village or anyone here, but anger at myself for betraying my family, letting them down being here and not at home, where my mother, and other family members might need me. The one thing Ukrainians having already taught me being how truly important family is.

The first person I told was an “American”. She is an American citizen, but having been born in Russia and speaking fluent Russian, I don’t feel that she should count fully as one here, where most Americans barely get by here. She was amazingly understanding and helpful, and so with that phone call in mind I told the next closest person to me, my landlady, though she is no longer my landlady now.

She cried, and I mean balled, on hearing that my grandmother had died. Then she went about asking me everything about her life. How old she was. How many children she had had. Did she work? She had? As a psychologist? But I thought women in America didn’t have those jobs in the 50’s. She must have been smart, and driven like you. And for an hour she asked me questions that I found I could answer and keep up with the flow of her talk, which at times went at dizzying speeds only to slow down for jokes about how death tried to steal winters chill and caught a cold instead. (this joke doesn’t translate at all, and only her laughing face made me laugh)

I went on to tell my counterpart, she had the standard American reaction of heartfelt sadness for about 15 minuets then went on to other problems. But then an interesting thing happened. All the teachers in the school found out by the next lesson, then the students, then the parents, and by the end of two days everyone in town knew that my grandmother had died and that I wasn’t going home for a funeral but staying here. I had people I never talked to saying how sad they were to hear about my grandmother.

Then on a trip to Simferopol I ran into the mother of one of my students. I didn’t know she was a mother of a student, but she knew me and started speaking in Ringlisky Yazik as she sat down next to me. Saying how her daughter, who never speaks in English in class incidentally, came home everyday after English class and told her the new words she had learned, and how she was excited to go to English class now, and what should she do to help her daughter since her daughter wanted more practice, but she (the mom) only new only how to count and say my name is_____. At the end of the conversation as I was getting off the Marshrutka she looked at me and said in Russian, “ I heard your grandmother died, but you are staying here. On behalf of my daughter, thank you.”

Last week as I was leaving school the rain was coming down especially hard and students were standing out front under the overhang waiting for the bus or just hanging out. As I walked out of the ground floor a car drove by the school slowly followed by a crowd of 20-40 people. Every child stopped talking and playing and watched. One of the teachers was out front bent her head. The PE teacher walked out as I was watching the funeral procession and stated matter of fatly in his broken English, a lyric to a song that I’ve heard a few times before in Russian. “Life is not sugar, death is not tea.”

Unlike most of us in North America where we seldomly remember those who have past on in public and usually with a quiet sense of respect, Ukranians leave one with the feeling that, like the Christmas Carol motto, its something that should be celebrated all year round. At every celebration I have so far been to here in Ukraine, whether it is a birthday, a birth, a holiday (orthodox or muslim), or the engagement party (the wedding “party” starts 40 days before any wedding when the bridegrooms father asks the brides father for the brides hand in marriage, then there is a party if she doesn’t give a pumpkin. No joke, a pumpkin means she refuses.), there is always a place for the souls of ancestors. A plate with food, a bottle of nice liquor opened, a chair that no one is allowed to sit in, and most importantly their own bowl of candies. At one celebration I went to they had a toast where no one said anything, someone said it was the toast of the spirits (this was a 90 year old tartars birthday, so I can only imagine that there were a few spirits present). There is even a day where you go to your ancestor’s graves and drink and have picnics at their gravesites.

Thus when my new host sister, whose birthday is on Friday, asked me what my grandma’s favorite alcoholic drink was, I was not surprised. She wanted to make sure there was something that my grandma would be able drink at her party, because there will be a place for here at the table, as well as the other relatives of people who died this year. So on Friday my grandmother will be socializing with older Ukrainian men and women, and I can only guess what the conversation would be like, and wish that I could actually see this conversation.

So in closing maybe death isn’t tea, maybe its vodka on the rocks.

ORO -10-9-08

From the first few notes playing out of the car speakers I knew what song it would be, and by the first words sung I couldn’t help but let out a full bodied laugh. My new host uncle turned around, his cigarette sticking out of his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” he asks sleepily, as I seem to have woken him up as his friend is driving.

“Its hard to say,” I respond not knowing how to say explain, or it doesn’t really matter. “Everything’s ok. Sleep.”

He shrugs and goes back to sleep.

The car continues to careen over the mountain pass between Simferopol and Alushta, the music blasting at full volume. I look out the window and see the dark sky of the night just before the dawn rushing by. The trees passing by green and rustling in the wind, and I notice that the trees by the road are mostly Walnut trees and in a few hours people will be out of the houses running around outside, as it will be the first day without rain in a few days, and all the kids will be down by this major artery picking walnuts off the side of the road.

I look at the back of the head of my uncle, wondering if he is the husband or the uncle, and then decide that his eyes and my host mother’s eyes are the same exact eyes and it must be uncle. Later in the day when I am talking with another PCV and her mother I say my host funcle, cause I changed my mind again and still don’t know.

One can’t blame me for not knowing what family member he is as I just recently moved again. By recently I mean within the last 3 days. In true fashion that I am now completely used to, I find out that I will have to move due to something involving my landlady’s daughter moving back in. I am told the why but don’t really understand all of it. Within three hours all my stuff is in a new house. It’s the house of one of my students and interestingly enough, she doesn’t even live there.

“Why don’t you smoke?” asks my host funcle’s friend who is behind the wheel of the car, as he looks at me in the rearview mirror.

“I used to, I don’t anymore.” I respond. He nods and lights another cigarette. Even though we’ve been driving for only 45 minuets I am sure this is his 3rd. But it is Sunday and 4 in the morning, so for all I know he might not have slept.

“Can you fish?”

“I fished with my grandfather often. I haven’t fished in a long time.”

“Why?”

“He died.”

He nods his head as he taps his cigarette out the window of the speeding car. The slight wind hits me hard, it’s the coldest I’ve experienced so far in Crimea.

I watch the sky become a light blue that ripples across the sky sounding the first trumpet of the future sun. I think of seeing this sky while camping in a crumbling fortress with Jordan in a small town near Sevastopol. I think of watching it the day of Easter with my first host father waking me up to say that no, we weren’t going to church, he wanted to sleep. And then I think of how I watched it my last morning in San Francisco, having woken up at 4:30, not being able to sleep anymore, alone in the house I walked around not having the stomach for coffee or tea or food. I ended up on the porch to watch the sun slowly rise over the Oakland/Berkeley hills wondering what Peace Corps would hold. And now here I was watching the same thing, thousands of miles away, months past, and thinking about who I was on that day watching the sun rise. And then it struck me, how different I already am as a person and it’s only been 6 months. I can only guess how different I’ll be at the end of 27 months.

Alushta comes into view as we speed past one of the Simferopol to Yalta trolleybuses, and the song slowly ends. I laugh again, I mean, I had to. Ukraine is the only place this could happen, while listening to the Hard Rock radio station to have Mama Mia being sung in Russian come on.

OWO 10-8-08

When I started my Peace Corps application the one person I had met who had done peace corps laughed and said, at least you like books.

In the last month I have read Atlas Shrugged (1 ½ weeks) First Circle (2 weeks) three Wilde plays. A book of poetry I found in my school library and the three Russian books I try and read out of at least once a day.

So, the question becomes, who has Ivanhoe, Ulysses, or The Rise and Fall of the Roman Empire. Those might keep me going for a good month. 20 Ulysses… that’s what I need.

Originally written on 9-23-08

Balaklava described by Lonely planet:

«Strung along a narrow, curving Black Sea inlet, with scrubby hills on either side, its charming buildings and blue waters are overshadowed by the ruins of a Genoese fort. An Irresistible, 20 minuet clumb gives you a birds eye view of both the coast and the cove. Alternatively, you can live out Cold War spy fantasies by exploring the remains of a secret Soviet submarine factory.»

As described in my other travel book:

« A borderline between Greater Yalta and Sevastopol region is the Aya (saint or sacred in Greek) cape. These corners of the Crimean coast attract the lovers of the beauty of nature. A rock with the remains of the Kokiya-Isar fortress (10th-13th centuries) dominates over the cape. Balaklava is notable for the remarkable beaches located in small bays. The local people call Micro-Yalo (small shore) Silver beach, and Megalo-yalo (big shore)- golden beach. Its easier by far to get their by sea. Balaklava boatmen will bring you to the secluded bays with their mysterious grottoes at a symbolic price.»

As for mentioned this was almost the last stop on my swing through Crimea adventure, but it will be the one that sticks with me the most from this trip.

Balaklava for history nerds like myself, especially ones interested in Russian history, is kind of a wet dream. Buildings have plaques (if you look carefully) stating that it was the birth place of, the red cross. The british soilders controlled this port during their seige of Sevastopol. The city after the fall of the Soviet Union was not open to the public for almost 9 years, much like Sevastopol itself, because it is the former factory and repair shop, of soviet subs. But that’s not even the most interesting part of the history. People who study Homer a lot state that Balaklava is in the Odessy and is the home of the blood thirsty listrigons lived there. Its been called, The bay of symbols, Chembalo, and now a bastardization of the turkish for Fish Pound. The greeks have been here the most, and one of the more interesting episodes of Russian history, where Catherine the Great was met by a delegation of «Amazons» on here trip through here empire, happened here. They were the women of the city. Today the women look, like a cross between Greek and Ukranian beauty. Its an amazing site, the women alone make a trip at least a strong suggestion.

Now as to why this place was the most interesting part of our trip. It came after a long day of sheer insanity. When we got to the bus station in Sudak to get bus tickets to Sevastopol we found that there were all sold out, and had been for a while, and the only way to get to Sevastopol was to get Tickets to Simferopol and then a bus to Sevastopol. We bought those tickets only to get them refunded 20 minuets later when a new addition to our Jordan and my crew, lisa, decided she would flirt and bargin a 700 grv car ride from Sudak to Simferepol to 300. In US dollars that’s going from about 140 dollars to about 60 for a ride from Santa Cruz to San Francisco.

The car ride from Sudak to Sim was fast, and I mean SPEEDY. The driver blasting great techno music, and all three of us going to sleep so we wouldn’t have to watch the world spill by us on the roadways. At one point Jason was almost begging the driver to slow down, sorry bud but its true.

When we got to Sim we bought a ticket to Sevastopol, the home of the Russian Black Sea fleet, the survivor of at least four different armies trying to starve it out, and many other rediculous things (Charge of the Light Brigade happened around there). The bus ride was very uneventful, but then it was time to try and figure out how to get to Balaklava. From the bus station you have to go through the WHOLE city on a bus, and it wasn’t like the three of us had small bags with us. Nothing like a rush hour bus with backpacking back pack. But I sat next to a very nice women who helped us, and I also talked to a nice man who said that he worked for the Russian navy as a translator. Once you get to the end of this bus line, we had to find bus number 9. After 15 to 20 minuets of walking around a market we found it and waited in a fairly long line and got on the bus.

The bus went through rolling hills filled with Vineyards, and I was taken back home for a brief second. It looked so much like Napa Valley that I almost cried out of familiarity.

The bus weived its way finally into a city, and we were looking for a «fish restaurant» out the windows and didn’t see one. Unfortunatly that means we missed our stopped and got out on the opposite side of a hill from where we wanted to be. Not a big deal, except it meant that without having eaten anything since 10 in the morning and it now being 6:30-7 we had to race the sun as it set to get to a place to set up camp. Luckily for us there was a group of Russians who also missed the stopped and together, with their great Russian abilities we found ourselves through a small village, through small and hard to find mountain passes till we came…. To a vineyard. The vineyard rolled down a hill that ended at a cliff that fell away into the sea, so we walked down the vineyard, picking grapes and eating them, being yelled at by the people who were running the vineyard, but not really caring.

Once we got to the ocean cliff we realized that we were at the foot of a hill that the former fort stood upon. After setting up our tent, the three of us fell asleep to the moon coming up above us and shinning upon the fort to our right. I woke up early the next morning, please read 4 in the morning. So early that Lisa thought I had been kidnapped and was worried for a few minuets before stealing my sleeping bag and going back to bed. I walked around in the half light and walked up to the fort where I watched the sun come up over the mountains and float down into the ocean and breech the crumbling walls of the old fort that made me think of fantasy books of my youth, Narnia, or Lord of the Rings even. And as the cool evening gave rise to the warmer morning I tried, the first 4 times in vain, to wake my fellow travelers. Finally after having broken camp down, we said our goodbyes to our Russian friends and saviors and walked to Silver beach. The hike looking back on it should never be done with people who are either a) carrying bags far to heavy for them b) havent eaten or c) havent had a lot of water to drink in the last few days. Unfortunatly that was basically what we were and as we walked a trail that was sometimes miniscule with our packs and traversing wooded bridges that looked like they may have been made before the Russian Revolution, and then been repaired many times, we finally made it to the beach where I for one bought a drink and chips. Later god give thanks, somehow a Shurma stand opened up on this very isolated beach to feed me for a little longer. The beach was amazing and the water was crystal clear and warm. Alas that means that the Jelly fish were out, but I gave thanks for the beauty of the place I was swimming in, when else do you get the chance to do something like this? Never really.

Later after Lindsey had left to go back to Sim City, Jason and I went into Balaklava and ate dinner at a restaurant having some amazing food, and there is very good food there I must say. And after having spent enough time that the sun had started setting and would soon be behind the hill opposite the bay from the fort, we walked up to the fort and put our tent up in a little corner of the ruins near the ocean. That night I sat watching on one side the shinning lights of Balaklava and on the other side the small lights of different boats going about out in the ocean and I realized I could never do this anywhere else really in the world. Sit in an old Itallian fortress and camp and sleep there and watch the stars come out over my head and watch them move through the window made almost 700 years ago. I stayed up till 9:45 and then went to sleep only to wake up at 5:45 (I am getting more sleep now mom, I swear) and walk around the fortress. It is hard to explain even now the feelings of waking up INSIDE the ruins of a culture that is ancient and no longer with us, in a country where you don’t even understand fully the culture. I strongly discourage this kind of activity, but as this post shows, it is more of the do as I say, not as I do thing.

At 7 we broke camp and trudged down the hill so that we could get to Sim City by noon to start our next and last adventure which would cause me to go swimming at night under a full moon in water that shimmered as you swam through it. Have discussions on politics with a Russian Peace Corps volunteer, and enjoy a campfire next to a hotel that was being built in the 1980's and then was stopped, never to be touched again. It felt like walking though a post apocolyptic world really.

Until next time, remember, every place you go has a past, and a future, and someone would kill to be there, and some have.

OWO (Originally written on) 9-23-08

Has made me realize how amazing a language it is, and how horribly complex and hard it is. If you don’t believe me, think of the fact that there are four was to make the f sound and I am sure you can only think of two, maybe three. Not to mention the trouble with silent letters, and C being either an s sound or a K sound or neither.

ENGLISH CAN BE FUN! Reads a poster I've seen in an english classroom here. That’s right, it CAN be, but we all know it’s also a pain in the ass. Especially those of us who use it on a daily or really quasi use it on a daily basis.

Seriously, why do we have so many words? More then any other language!

We need to simplify.

Other then that, I am damn happy I learned this language as my first one, cause god help those learning it as their second, third, fourth, or in some cases in my school, their fifth.

OWO means originally written on

Owo 9-24-08

I have come to be aquainted with many different fables and stories here and some of the stories are very interesting and worth at least nowing. There's the radish about a whole family, cat, dog, and mouse pulling up a radish and then there is «The Sword» it was written down by Krylov, and shockingly was in english in the school library so:

The Sword

The sharp-bladed demascene sword

Was thrown on a heap of iron scrap

And taken to the market

And sold to a peasant for nothing.

The sword spent its days working

Striping bark from trees

Splitting wooden sticks for a lamp.

The sword became no more than

Jagged edges and rust.

One day a hedgehog entered the house

Seeing the demascene sword he asked

«Tell me, what kind of life are you leading?

Isn't it shameful to split wicks

And plane stakes?»

The sword thought for a minuet

Then replied with steely resolve (gotta love poetry humor)

In a warriors hands I'd dismay the foe!

But here my talent is wasted.

Yet it is not I who am to blame,

But the one who could not use me.

The next few posts that follow were written on my laptop back in my internetless home.

Well... housing is a different kettle of fish that we will talk about later but for now. Have fun.

Since the last post I have been to many places, done some rediculous things, and had some amazing discussions.

Basically the last month or so can be summed up by my friend who went on my adventure with me, "I will follow you to the end of the earth, because you always make it interesting."

To start with Crimea is, once you know a bit of Russian, amazingly easy to get around in. Most people know something in English, even if its to realize its english and get their manager to help you. And people love to talk here. Its a different atmosphere then the one you may think of when you hear of a soviet country. Where no one ever smiles, where its always cold. Ok, it can be cold, and not everyone smiles, but it is a different place.

A girl, who I am working with in English, put it probably the most interesting way. "You can't call me Russian, you can't call me Ukrainian. The only thing you can really call me, is Crimean." I have met, Russians, and, a few, Ukrainians here, but for the most part the people born in Crimea are very much, yay Crimea.

But that being said, my trip around Crimea, that took place near the end of August, was something that is called in Peace Corps Ukraine Lexicon as an "Only in Ukraine experience". And it was.

First stop was Yalta. After a three hour bus ride, my traveling buddy, who I will call Jason to protect the innocent and guilty, found ourselves in Yalta. Jason had found perhaps the most articulate English speaker I have ever heard in my life next to him on the bus, and english was her 3rd or 4th language. After feeling like an idiot for a few minuets, she helped us find out hotel. Which there was no way in the dickens that we would have found it ourselves.

The hotel was amazing, nay majestic. I can not begin to describe to you what having running water and a hot shower is like, and what having a toliet, let alone one that flushes easily is like, unless you have gone without. Jason and I both know we are lucky, amazingly so, to be in Peace Corps in Ukraine, but we are still in Peace Corps, we have hardships, we have problems. Granted, I also can go to a pizza place that has wifi at least once a week. But moving on.

In yalta we regailed ourselves to two fine arts, walking around (which is an art form in this country) at night, and laying on the beach people watching. We got into some interesting converstations about the state of the world with Russians who had a massive understanding of the english language, mixed with our minor understanding of the Russian language.

Next stop was Sudak, known for having a massive Itallian fort on a mountain overlooking this humble beach town, think Santa Cruz with an Itallian fort where UCSC is. There we met up with some other volunteers and had a good time. The water was beautiful, the beaches were amazing, and the sun... well it was hot.

Up unto this point I have not commented on how much I have physically changed, but, since I have come here I have grown amazingly tan, and amazingly skinny. For those of you who have known me in the last 6 years I have only been this weight once before, nay twice, but 144 lbs is pretty skinny. Except this time, its all muscle instead of me just loosing a bunch of weight. woohoo. Its called the Uk diet, its good for guys seeking to loose weight, bad for girls looking to do the same.

After Sudak it was to Sevastopol, of which I know more then a few of you have read about recently because you have e-mailed me about it. Then to a tiny town called Balaklava. There we missed getting off the bus at the right time and walked about 2 miles till we got to a place that would have taken us about 12 minuets otherwise. But we camped at the base of an old immensly damaged fort. The next morning, waking up early, we walked, hungry cause we hadnt really eaten the night before, to a beach, interestingly named silver beach. After sitting in the sun for 5 hours and feeling the burn, my partner in crime and I decided we should head back to the city on a boat. It was amazing, and after a delicious meal we decided that we should actually camp IN the fort this time. We found out later that part of the fort had been destroyed and fallen down only a few weeks before... but do not fear we are ok.

I have to go now before I get this (my 5th try) deleted along with the rest.

I hope you are all having fun. I'll talk more next time and explain to you the ukrainian school system... oh joy.

Keep those feet a walking.

This is my being slightly upset that I cant use my laptop at any of the internet cafe's i've been to today (that would be 4 for those counting). So it will take me a bit longer to get pictures up then I originally anticipated. Sorry for the wait to all who care and are expecting.

Also, I will be turning this blog into a password neccisary blog soon. So please remember this. The password will be the country I am currently in. If you dont know what country that is... then you should read some of my past posts in the next few weeks.

Best,

Sam

Concerts- As my last post stated, I am in the school band for my school here. Once I finish writing this post I will hop on a Mashrutka, its like a little bus, think of the nice buses people go to airports in sometimes, and go to one of the Bus Stations in this town, where I will hop on another Bus, and get to my town, all in all about 45-75 minuets depending on how long I have to wait at the bus station. All because I have practice today. Its the 4th practice in the last week. Why so many? we have a concert tomorrow... at least I think its tomorrow. Its either then or Sunday. Either way, because I am, as the teacher says, "a fast learner", I keep learning mroe and more complicated things to do with the drums, and contrary to what I was taught by all my music teachers before, he wants me to be the loudest thing known to man kind. This band is very different from what you might be imagining. First there are 10 students in the band, and three teachers (including me and the music teacher). Every instrument that isnt the drums is a brass instrument. Needless to say we do a lot of Polkas. The music teacher is a very nice man. I dont actually know how old he is but he's been teaching at the school for over 40 years, and he explained to me one day about how due to the rise in the cost of musical instruments, or the fact that there is ANY cost for musical instruments makes it almost impossible to get any sort of money for new instruments or to repair some of the more destroyed instruments. Nice to know Music programs have problems in every country of the world I've been to.

The Beach- I am of the beliefe that this thing is a myth. A elaborate fabrication made up to amuse me to no end. I have almost gone to the beach about three times thus far, each time something coming up and the beach outting being postponed or well just not happening. So please hope on the lucky stars or sing a mystical chant, because I've heard that outside California and Tahiti the Crimean Coast and black sea are the place you want to be, and that is something I need to see for myself. *crosses fingers*

Crimean Summer- I moved, for the 4th or 5th time in a year, and will move at least one more time before I start school in September, September 1st actually (its a holiday here, a big one, as is the last day of class *its called the Last Bell*). I am living in the woman, who will be my future landlady (and I guess my current landlady), house. I have one room in her house and I try to cook. She is amazingly nice and calls me a good boy (using the under 17 form) or good baby (these arent really patronizing contrary to what some in the US who read this might think), she has also made my name into the nick name form putting Neck on the end, Samneck. She also sits and trys to talk to me in Russian and each time asks me if Russian is a heavy language to learn and speak. I say yes, but English would be hard for someone who wasnt raised in it too. The last few days have been in the 30's this is hoooot. The coldest it gets is at night it gets down to 23 degrees. So needless to say its been really hot, but my land lady laughs and goes, its hot, but hey, thats a Crimean Summer.

I've lost so much weight I need to buy a new belt (the old one doesnt work anymore), I am remarkably tan on my feet arms and face, and I dont even work outside all that much.

August is coming up and soon School will start, and as my landlady loves to point out, you will not have time to think, go to the bathroom or worry, so why worry now?

Life is slower and I love it, but it also means I think alot, which can pose problems. Especially when you think a lot about yourself and your own problems. (I dare you to write three pages on the things you know are problems about yourself)

Anyways, Peace Corps has been used by thousands of people since it began a little over 45 years ago to find out about themselves. After all in Kennedy's speech on signing Peace Corps into creation he stated, "Many people seek to change the world, but very few seek to change themselves."

If anything Peace Corps lets people do both. But I feel that traveling in itself does that. Especially if you dont go with a tour group.

Think about it, you have to rely on people you have never met, you have to test yourself, but you also show those people you rely on that all americans arent horrible people, you find out that not all people are horrible, and you all learn something about each other. And in the end, the only way we will come to find peace is if we actually Learn something about each other from each other instead of believing the books written by "specialists".

Until next time. Keep one foot on the path and one foot in the woods, for both are needed in your life.

Its summertime and for a teacher who doesnt have to work to pay his rent in the Summer this is actually quiet an interesting time.

There are summer camps to attend, and for me specifically outtings to be had.

My director is a great man (this morning he typed up a list of places i needed to see in Crimea before the end of summer and then printed it out explaining I should put a check next to the ones I see once I see them), and he decided that I would be going on outtings to the surrounding areas with students every day to see different parts of the area in which I now live.

Its great because it has a side benefit I didnt think about at all when we were talking about it... ok he was talking I was understanding 40 percent and saying yes, I understand, no, yes. Ok. Good.

Its that I also am meeting the people who work at the school. See as I am not actually a certified teacher in Ukraine I can't take the kids by myself out alone, so someone always has to be with me, thus I have met a great portion of the teaching staff.

Also I have picked up the Drums. I know not too surprising, what is surprising is that I am actually pretty good at them and will be in the school concert soon, I believe its in a few weeks.

Places I will hopefully see soon, Sevastopol, Bakalava, and Yalta. I'll get back to you when I've seen something. Although hiking up to the mountain top near where I lived was pretty damn amazing.

Please respond to this as I can actually read the responses on my phone and its like getting mail... because I dont get mail yet, not having a mailing address and all.

OK time is short, shorter then me even so I must go. Until next time keep up your travels and keep researching Crimean Tartars, theres a test in a few weeks.

So I am here, I am at my site, and it is probably the most idealic place I have ever found myself in. And thats saying something I feel do to my propensity to live and travel to pretty beautiful places.

My town is outside Simferopol and is a small village of less then 2000 people. The rolling hills and yellow hay make it look sometimes like its straight out of a Soviet Movie, but I love it.

My counterpart, who is sitting right next to me (she says hi), lives in Simferopol its that close. She is better then I could have hoped for in a counterpart. Close to my age (25), very good at english, and more then willing to help me today (which happens to be her birthday.... HAPPY BIRHTDAY SANYE). She is also a Crimean Tartar and for those of you who dont know the history that entails, which I know is almost all of you, with the exception of Tanya, I suggest wikipediaing it... or googling, which ever is still the cool thing to do in the United States.

My host family is amazing as well, the two younger brothers, who are twins that only look partially alike, are very active boys who seem to enjoy having me along in their adventures. So far I have gone to the forest to cut down saplings, going swiming in one of the many pounds/small lakes, helped pile hay into the back of a tractor, and going picking wild strawberries. All the while being taught the joy of Soccor and teaching the Joy of Uno and Horse (i used horse as an intro english lesson, lets see if it sticks).

For those of you who dont know Simferopol is the captiol of Crimea and Crimea is basicall the must travel to place in all of the Post-Soviet Countries. Right now people from all over the world are traveling here to enjoy the beaches in the Southern part of the area.

Crimea also happens to be an Autonous Republic within Ukraine which means they have their own parliament (sp?) and more they recently, I was told, set prices on certain goods so that they wouldnt go up in the summer. Something that is very interesting since the rest of Ukraine didnt do this, meaning... Crimea can also control its own economy. At a later date we will have a Crimean history lesson for this is neither the time nor the place... well ok its the place, but its not the right time.

Needless to say, as I stood on a bluff last night as the sun started to set behind a hill and was looking out over the village that I will be living in for the next two years, I couldnt help but think how lucky I was. And then Muslim (one of the two brothers) made me go pick strawberries with him. So in closing, homework for today, research Crimean Tartars, because I may comeback knowing some of the language, and a lot of their history.

Until next time, safe travels.

Ukraine. Its a trip, full of historical irony. The country's name itself, according to one ledgen, means land at the border of the country. That country was Russia. But Ukraine was the birthplace of Russia for sure, so why the diss?

Anyways, I realize I havent updated in... oh forever. And please do not think poorly of me because of it, I have pseudo access to the internet, but time is the other factor. The place I live currently, which will change in a few weeks, is rather large and I like to walk. it takes me a while to get to one of the few internet places here so there has been a dirth of my internet outtings. That and I prefer to use my money on going places. Not too many places but just the surrounding areas. And also to Kyiv.

The land, I mean the actually earth on this point, is amazing. I have farmed a few times and the ground is black and feels like sand when its dry. But there is so much life IN the dirt. Bugs, all sorts of plant life, you always are killing a worm or two when you stick a shovel in it.

A few weeks ago was Victory Day, which is a great holiday if you ask me. We in the United States have memorial day, and veterans day, but we dont actually celebrate veterans so much. We sit and go, OH thank god I dont have to work. Or maybe it was just what I thought on those holidays. But here every student brings flowers to statues commemorating Veterans of ww2, and you can see in every city people wearing their uniforms proudly, even if the country the uniform is for no longer exists. I mean every city, town, selo. Huge parade and party in Kyiv, Chernigiv has a smaller parade but then you still have the people giving speeches and wearing the uniforms all over the places. Ok I have to go, got the 2 minuet warning.

To all the people reading this please let me know what you want to read, cause I really have no clue what you might want to read about so let me know.

Till next time, which will be sooner I promise, keep fighting the good fight at home.

And make sure theres something for me to come back to. ;)

Hello. We were told about blogs today, and the fact that this blog may soon become password protected. If it does become so, please email me and let me know you want the password, or if you dont know my e-mail just send me a response soon.In other news, I am really excited, we are in Philly and will be flying out soon to get to Ukraine.The people in my group are all very cool and amazingly diverse cross section of America. Sadly, no one from Alaska, just a few who have lived there... one shockingly is me now I guess.Anyways.Let me know

This will be my last entry, for a while, where I will be alone. Although my cat is walking all up on, and is currently licking the screen.

Privacy is something I have been told, many times... many, many times, that I will suddenly lack. For the last month I have had privacy. Lots of it. I have stayed at my parents apt, with only my cat and the occasional friend, to keep me company. I dont know what it will be lack having a loss of privacy, since I can't actually think of some time where I had none. I've always had some, maybe not much, but some. Anyways, these last three hours will be me saying until i see you again to Privacy.

The feelings I have now are very tormented. I am filled with excitement and hope, and yet extreme trepidation. Granted I felt these things before, for the exact same reason. Its the beginning of an adventure.

For those who have done something kind of crazy, like go to college across the country from everything you know. Going to Japan to teach for an indefinte amount of time, going to work in a ski chalet in Colorado, going to live in Brazil... in the late 50's early 60's. You know the feeling. You know something is going to happen. Something that will change your life forever, for better and worse, something that will change your view about how the world works forever. In the past those who saught this feeling out were called adventurers or as one book i read put it, "men who left their heads at home and went out into the world with their hearts and eyes."

Honestly though, I think this is a good thing. If I could capture that feeling and have it everyday no matter where I live, I think I would be a lot calmer and happier. Think of all the stuff that goes on in that head of yours. if you went into the world with your heart and eyes, you know that you were doing what you wanted to.

Yesterday I was interviewed and photographed by the lovely Saratoga news for an article they are doing on me going into the Peace Corps. If I get the link sent to me, I will be sure to post it here for you all to read what I may have said... or maynot have said.

As for now I need to go finish packing, eating a breakfast, and saying goodbye to my kitty who seems to want a lot of attention... i wonder why.

Oh, on a side note, no my passport information was not hacked, thank you for your concern.

Until next time, take a nice walk in the woods.

OK, I leave tomorrow from the apt here in San Francisco at Noon. Kevin will be driving me to the airport and throwing me out the door with a "man, I wish I could be doing this."

I will be smiling, nodding, and poopin in my pants. I am currently repacking again... for like the 50th time. Each time I say, Not taking this, and take out something else. Its very bizare feeling to be doing, but I feel I should have done that more before I went to Alaska.

So the addage, line up everything you are planning on packing and then halve it worked out well... the first 6 times, then I had to add stuff... anyways, needless to say, I've been freaking out on and off for the last few days since Noah left.

As some of you may notice from the new quote under the title, I have added a disclaimer. Its actually required, which makes some sense. So now I can bash the Peace Corps and US government and foreign policy at will. I wont, but I could if I wanted to.

Anyways, back to the running around with head cut off feeling... I should eat.

Till next time (tomorrow morning, last post before I leave).

Ok, last night I went online to find the speech that the quote is taken from. Whats interesting about said speech, called, The Day of Affirmation Address at the University of Cape Town, is what he calls for.First off he basically pisses off the people there in Cape Town saying, "reform is not communism. And the denial of freedom, in whatever name, only strengthens the very communism it claims to oppose." They were in the height of apartheid at the time of this speech. Take that to today, and replace communism with terrorism, and man, it flows way to well. But lets get to the real inspiration. Youth.I kid you not, all of us who are "youth" we are the change and the temperment that is needed, according to RFK, and having read and listened to the speech, I agree that what he said then, is true today. Read on."Our answer is the world's hope: It is to rely on youth. The cruelties and the obstacles of this swiftly changing planet will not yield to obsolete dogmas and outworn slogans. It cannot be moved by those who cling to a present which is already dying, who prefer the illusion of security to the excitement and danger which comes with even the most peaceful progress.

This world demands the qualities of youth; not a time of life but a state of mind, a temper of the will, a quality of the imagination, a predominance of courage over timidity, of the appetite for adventure over the life of ease ...

It is a revolutionary world that we all live in, and thus, as I have said in Latin America and in Asia and in Europe and in my own country, the United States, it is the young people who must take the lead. Thus, you, and your young compatriots everywhere, have had thrust upon you a greater burden of responsibility than any generation that has ever lived.

"There is," said an Italian philosopher "nothing more difficult to take in hand, more perilous to conduct, or more uncertain in its success than to take the lead in the -- in the introduction of a new order of things." Yet this is the measure of the task of your generation, and the road is strewn with many dangers.

First, is the danger of futility: the belief there is nothing one man or one woman can do against the enormous array of the world's ills -- against misery, against ignorance, or injustice and violence. Yet many of the world's great movements, of thought and action, have flowed from the work of a single man. A young monk began the Protestant Reformation, a young general extended an empire from Macedonia to the borders of the earth, and a young woman reclaimed the territory of France. It was a young Italian explorer who discovered the New World,, and 32 year-old Thomas Jefferson who proclaimed that "all men are created equal."I now feel that this speech is something that all students in America need to read. I do not consider myself stupid, far from it, but the fact that I had never read the entire speech until last night says something about American education.