J: My cp says hello but that's about it. Oh and she asks why I haven't gotten a grant yet.
M: Classic. My official cp just says hello to me too, that's it. This pc life is very different than how I imagined it
J: I couldn't agree more.
Elaboration: This was a text conversation I had with one of my friends today.
I think anyone who applies to Peace Corps prepares themselves for a very different experience than what they may ultimately end up with. My regional manager asked me where I had wanted to be sent, ideally, and I said, "Latin America or Africa." He replied, "That's what you all say!"
Most people, when applying, have asked themselves if they want to live in an environment where they may be the first and only white person there, where they won't have reliable electricity and/or water, where they'll see landscapes and wildlife drastically different than in the U.S., where the closest volunteer is a day or two of travel away, and so is internet, where they won't be able to shower, where they'll have to wear the local, colorful dress.
You know why? If you go the PC web site, or picture what "PC" looks like in your mind, you'll see images of volunteers living in very rural, basic environments in developing countries. You know what you don't see? Pictures of Eastern Europe, and more specifically, of volunteers in Ukraine.
Want to know a fun fact? PC/Ukraine is the largest PC program, with about 400 volunteers currently serving.
Most volunteers in Ukraine have mostly reliable water and electricity, some even have high speed internet! Yes, we shower less than we would in the U.S. but we are also expected to be dressed professionally the majority of the time. I've ironed t-shirts here. Wearing local clothing would entail me sporting mini-skirts, patterned tights, and see-through blouses. This would not help me blend in. I have three volunteers in the city over from me (though I've chosen not to spend much time with them because I am antisocial). I have internet. I have access to a television with about 100 channels. Programming is in Russian or Ukrainian but I can watch Ukraine's equivalents of So You Think You Can Dance, X Factor, Dancing With Stars, and How I Met Your Mother, and American originals dubbed, such as The Simpsons. Travel is long and not always easy but it's survivable. When Ukrainians ask me about the weather in Ohio in comparison to Ukraine, I say it's about the same, because it is. The only truly different "wildlife" I've seen was at the Kyiv zoo. It also had a raccoon on display.
I guess I don't appreciate that PC sells their program as certain ideas and images, when in reality, the majority of the young, recently graduated, not-specifically-skilled-in-any-one-area applicants will end up in an Eastern European country teaching English as a foreign language.
Don't get me wrong. I LIKE living in Ukraine. I like the food and the people and the history and the scenery. But as my PCV friends and I like to joke, we're jealous of people who end up in Real Peace Corps.
It's okay, though. The Real Peace Corps kids like to joke about how my friends and I ended up in Posh Corps.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Friday, May 20, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
This Week
Lots happened this week. Here it is.
1) I got into the orphanage! Actually, I only made it into the yard where they were all playing but I like to think that still counts. I found out there are 17 of them that live in the orphanage, and I teach seven of them. Given the stereotypes of orphans in Ukraine, I was surprised when I found out some of my more respectful and achieving 7th formers live there. I also found out they are going to America for a month. I asked when and where, but in typical Ukrainian fashion they didn't know.
2) I got my fridge and hot water back! Not having hot water wasn't such a big deal, but not having a fridge was a bummer. Now I can eat things other than rice, cream of wheat, and bread!
3) My landlord set up mouse traps and I've seen noticeable fewer of them in my house.
4) I've been talking with the other English teacher at my school. She is super nice and helpful. She took me on an excursion to a historical Cossack site at the edge of my village. There are these mounds of Earth in the shape of a crab, and it is believed the Cossacks used the formation for observation and religious ceremonies. She also invited me to a small ceremony that happened today, the end of year ceremony (which I hear is quite a sight), and on an excursion to the city of Karniv this weekend.
5) It's the second to last week of school!
6) The ceremony today was for the 5th form class. They were inducted into some kind of pioneering society. It was fairly short but still neat to watch.
7) The chickens are no longer in my house. The smell is already fading.
8) I think one of the little dogs in my backyard is pregnant. I'm excited about impending puppies.
1) I got into the orphanage! Actually, I only made it into the yard where they were all playing but I like to think that still counts. I found out there are 17 of them that live in the orphanage, and I teach seven of them. Given the stereotypes of orphans in Ukraine, I was surprised when I found out some of my more respectful and achieving 7th formers live there. I also found out they are going to America for a month. I asked when and where, but in typical Ukrainian fashion they didn't know.
2) I got my fridge and hot water back! Not having hot water wasn't such a big deal, but not having a fridge was a bummer. Now I can eat things other than rice, cream of wheat, and bread!
3) My landlord set up mouse traps and I've seen noticeable fewer of them in my house.
4) I've been talking with the other English teacher at my school. She is super nice and helpful. She took me on an excursion to a historical Cossack site at the edge of my village. There are these mounds of Earth in the shape of a crab, and it is believed the Cossacks used the formation for observation and religious ceremonies. She also invited me to a small ceremony that happened today, the end of year ceremony (which I hear is quite a sight), and on an excursion to the city of Karniv this weekend.
5) It's the second to last week of school!
6) The ceremony today was for the 5th form class. They were inducted into some kind of pioneering society. It was fairly short but still neat to watch.
7) The chickens are no longer in my house. The smell is already fading.
8) I think one of the little dogs in my backyard is pregnant. I'm excited about impending puppies.
Me at the Cossack site with some Ukrainians. Sometimes I forget that Ukrainians don't smile in pictures.
In the middle of the formation.
This is in my village. It honors the first female tractor drivers. The woman is one of the English teachers at my school.
Things burning, per usual.
The 11th form tying the scarves of the 5th form today, inducting them into the society.
A third former took this picture. I think she did a good job. I don't teach them but these kids come and visit me on their breaks.
They're cute.
Then they hung out my window to take pictures of their friends playing.
He looks proud of himself, doesn't he? Note the chicken head.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
To the Korzhi Kids/Disinformation
“we love conspiracies because wherever there is a lack of information then rumours thrive” - The Economist
This is actually from an article about Pakistan, but the statement applies to community life in Ukraine. Just yesterday, someone told me I was going to work near Lviv after my two years in my village. Right? Wrong. I have no idea where or how that idea was started but I have never said that. It was a nice reminder that even though I'm not hearing what people are saying, people are definitely talking.
This is actually from an article about Pakistan, but the statement applies to community life in Ukraine. Just yesterday, someone told me I was going to work near Lviv after my two years in my village. Right? Wrong. I have no idea where or how that idea was started but I have never said that. It was a nice reminder that even though I'm not hearing what people are saying, people are definitely talking.
Friday, May 13, 2011
My Ceiling
I took this awhile ago. I had a rough lesson, and came back to my office and laid down on top of the table to breathe.
I like the colors and pattern/texture of the wall paper.
I like the colors and pattern/texture of the wall paper.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
Way Way Overdue
There was a House Foreign Affairs Committee meeting today concerning Peace Corps' safety and security procedures, particularly concerning sexual assault and the support Peace Corps provides.
It's 2011. It's so disappointing that survivors of sexual assault are still being blamed for their assaults.
Here are a few quality links:
http://firstresponseaction.blogspot.com/
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/11/us/11corps.html?_r=1&src=tptw
http://firstresponseaction.blogspot.com/2011/05/changeorg-blog-by-casey-frazee.html
http://www.change.org/petitions/tell-peace-corps-protect-volunteers-back-anti-sexual-violence-legislation
http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/raped-peace-corps-volunteer/story?id=13537674
It's 2011. It's so disappointing that survivors of sexual assault are still being blamed for their assaults.
Here are a few quality links:
http://firstresponseaction.blogspot.com/
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/05/11/us/11corps.html?_r=1&src=tptw
http://firstresponseaction.blogspot.com/2011/05/changeorg-blog-by-casey-frazee.html
http://www.change.org/petitions/tell-peace-corps-protect-volunteers-back-anti-sexual-violence-legislation
http://abcnews.go.com/Blotter/raped-peace-corps-volunteer/story?id=13537674
Monday, May 9, 2011
Storks
I noticed this huge nest a few weeks ago and have been meaning to snap pictures of the stork that lives in it. Today I remembered. Stork in Ukrainian and Russian, respectively, is лелека and аист (laylayka and ayst).
Today is also Victory Day. All I really know is that it's in memory of all those who fought during the Great Patriotic War (World War II). There was a concert today, but unfortunately I found out about it about an hour too late.
Also, I went for a run today and ended up at a picnic. Ukrainian hospitality continues to amaze me.
Here are some pictures from a recent walk.
Today is also Victory Day. All I really know is that it's in memory of all those who fought during the Great Patriotic War (World War II). There was a concert today, but unfortunately I found out about it about an hour too late.
Also, I went for a run today and ended up at a picnic. Ukrainian hospitality continues to amaze me.
Here are some pictures from a recent walk.
This Is It.
PC asked for essays about what service means, and I stole this from another PCV's blog.
Somedays I wake up in the middle of the night, and I’ve finally got it. That one magic idea that will transform my small village, the magic pill that, if I just get them to swallow it, will cure all of our problems. I am too excited to reenter my sleeping state.
And other days I hear my alarm beep and fail to move. Its cold and dark outside of the covers. My self-described brilliant idea has been shrugged off once again, a pill not just to hard to swallow but one that they won’t even send to trial. Outside my covers await another day of little progress.
But most days I wake up even before my 6am alarm, because the roosters next door are crowing and then the dogs start barking and then the tractors start moving. The sounds of a country morning is an obstacle that I have yet to overcome. I sometimes find myself yearning for that urban clatter of my beloved New York, taxis raging and pedestrians bustling and the subway rattling beneath many stories that aren’t my own.
Every day I wake up, though, every day I head to school and I teach some English and show a few students a new chord on the guitar. And I’ll be in the middle of a breakthrough, explaining the difference between “the” and “an/a” to a twelve year old, when my director will barge in to my office, telling me to take a break so we can sip on some chai.
As we sit there drinking our very Ukrainian tea, I tell him of my new plan, to build a recycling factory or sell our produce over the internet or run a feminism camp or produce our own music album or start a school newspaper. He always supports me, but I’ve begun to think he finds my idealism, this American “can-do” attitude, a bit amusing.
And I’ll stop in one of the two local stores on my way home, and the local prodavetz will ask me about my day. I always produce a huge smile and force out a “fantastichno,” and she’ll laugh heartily in return.
The walk back home is long, only one long street crowded with the same faces. There is Slavik, 13 years old, whose parents don’t much care for his whereabouts, and he, in turn, doesn’t care much either. There is Nazar, just barely four, who always seems to find himself eating something he picked off the ground, which have ranged from a piece of an old tire to a small pick axe. No one is around to tell him how hard it all is to digest.
I walk farther to find Sergei, a 22 year old who lost his two front teeth in a battle with the street, collapsing after a day-long drinking session. He has no job, save the bottle. Just past him is Baba Natasha, lamenting the village’s downfall. I go a little farther to see Sashko, in the eleventh grade, smoking his 5th cigarette of the day.
And just when the road seems endless, I come to Yanna, beautiful, precocious, seven year old Yanna. She’s just beginning to string letters together into words. “Dog,” she says, as a local canine attacks my leg. “Snow,” she said in the winter, “Sun” now that it has begun to get warm. “How are you,” I ask her, “I am good, thank you” is her reply. “Koly mi yidem do New Yorka,” she asks, when are we going to New York. “Zavtra,” I tell her, tomorrow, always tomorrow, always the day after.
Tomorrow will surely arrive, and I’ll wake up in the very same country in the very same village in the very same bed with the very same thoughts and ideas I had the day before. Hopes of miracles begin to vanish, dreams of grandeur dissipate with the morning fog. Slavik will still kick the stones and Sergei will fail to kick the bottle, and my director will still smile at my newly concocted plan.
So we all wake up just the same, except maybe, just maybe, Yanna wakes up a bit different. Another word learned, another letter’s sound mastered. And in 20 thousand tomorrows, maybe she will come to New York, and she’ll point to the dogs and the snow and the sun, and she’ll grab my hand and look in my eyes and say, in perfect english, “we are good, Jeremy. Thank you.”
And other days I hear my alarm beep and fail to move. Its cold and dark outside of the covers. My self-described brilliant idea has been shrugged off once again, a pill not just to hard to swallow but one that they won’t even send to trial. Outside my covers await another day of little progress.
But most days I wake up even before my 6am alarm, because the roosters next door are crowing and then the dogs start barking and then the tractors start moving. The sounds of a country morning is an obstacle that I have yet to overcome. I sometimes find myself yearning for that urban clatter of my beloved New York, taxis raging and pedestrians bustling and the subway rattling beneath many stories that aren’t my own.
Every day I wake up, though, every day I head to school and I teach some English and show a few students a new chord on the guitar. And I’ll be in the middle of a breakthrough, explaining the difference between “the” and “an/a” to a twelve year old, when my director will barge in to my office, telling me to take a break so we can sip on some chai.
As we sit there drinking our very Ukrainian tea, I tell him of my new plan, to build a recycling factory or sell our produce over the internet or run a feminism camp or produce our own music album or start a school newspaper. He always supports me, but I’ve begun to think he finds my idealism, this American “can-do” attitude, a bit amusing.
And I’ll stop in one of the two local stores on my way home, and the local prodavetz will ask me about my day. I always produce a huge smile and force out a “fantastichno,” and she’ll laugh heartily in return.
The walk back home is long, only one long street crowded with the same faces. There is Slavik, 13 years old, whose parents don’t much care for his whereabouts, and he, in turn, doesn’t care much either. There is Nazar, just barely four, who always seems to find himself eating something he picked off the ground, which have ranged from a piece of an old tire to a small pick axe. No one is around to tell him how hard it all is to digest.
I walk farther to find Sergei, a 22 year old who lost his two front teeth in a battle with the street, collapsing after a day-long drinking session. He has no job, save the bottle. Just past him is Baba Natasha, lamenting the village’s downfall. I go a little farther to see Sashko, in the eleventh grade, smoking his 5th cigarette of the day.
And just when the road seems endless, I come to Yanna, beautiful, precocious, seven year old Yanna. She’s just beginning to string letters together into words. “Dog,” she says, as a local canine attacks my leg. “Snow,” she said in the winter, “Sun” now that it has begun to get warm. “How are you,” I ask her, “I am good, thank you” is her reply. “Koly mi yidem do New Yorka,” she asks, when are we going to New York. “Zavtra,” I tell her, tomorrow, always tomorrow, always the day after.
Tomorrow will surely arrive, and I’ll wake up in the very same country in the very same village in the very same bed with the very same thoughts and ideas I had the day before. Hopes of miracles begin to vanish, dreams of grandeur dissipate with the morning fog. Slavik will still kick the stones and Sergei will fail to kick the bottle, and my director will still smile at my newly concocted plan.
So we all wake up just the same, except maybe, just maybe, Yanna wakes up a bit different. Another word learned, another letter’s sound mastered. And in 20 thousand tomorrows, maybe she will come to New York, and she’ll point to the dogs and the snow and the sun, and she’ll grab my hand and look in my eyes and say, in perfect english, “we are good, Jeremy. Thank you.”
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Berehove/Beregszasz
I traveled to Berehove/Beregszasz (Ukrainian and Hungarian names, respectively) this past weekend to run a 10k and support another PCV who organized the event. Berehove is 6km from the border of Hungary, and it was like being in another country!
First, it's situated in the foothills of the Carpathian mountains so it's not the normal flat, farmland I usually see. Because it's so close to Hungary, all the signs were in Ukrainian and Hungarian and local people tend to speak Hungarian [I learned the Hungarian word for street is 'utca']. Everything was so green! There were lots of plants and trees, and it was so pretty.
Also, the customer service was more typical of what you would find in western Europe, though Berehove is more of a tourist town. Sales people were very polite and helpful, and you paid your bill for food or coffee after you finished eating. Oddly enough, I still heard Russian in some stores and a sales woman had trouble understanding my Ukrainian in one place. The girl who served us coffee asked us if we were American, and then said thank you and goodbye in English.
All the trains run on Kyiv time, but the locals follow Central European time (an hour behind Kyiv time).
On Friday, there was a walking tour. I peaced out of this early because I had basically walked the entire town earlier in the day as my friend and I tried to find our hotel and the bus station. We also hung out in the park and ate ice cream!
The event itself was held on Saturday morning, and there were 1k, 5k, 10k, and half marathon races. I ran the 10k, and everyone received a little medal and wine glass with two free wine tasting tickets inside. Berehove is wine country, and after the races there was a wine festival. I tasted both the white and red wines and they were delicious. I bought a bottle of white to split with my friend, and I bought a bottle of red as a gift for my landlord. There was also lots of barbecuing going on, and I ate some delicious 'shashleek' (shishkabob).
Everything went really well, with the exception of our hotel not having our reservation so we ended up spending our second night in Mukacheve. That was fine though, because our train back to Lviv left from Mukacheve. Overall, it was an awesome trip.
First, it's situated in the foothills of the Carpathian mountains so it's not the normal flat, farmland I usually see. Because it's so close to Hungary, all the signs were in Ukrainian and Hungarian and local people tend to speak Hungarian [I learned the Hungarian word for street is 'utca']. Everything was so green! There were lots of plants and trees, and it was so pretty.
And it was so clean!
Some things were in English too.
Also, the customer service was more typical of what you would find in western Europe, though Berehove is more of a tourist town. Sales people were very polite and helpful, and you paid your bill for food or coffee after you finished eating. Oddly enough, I still heard Russian in some stores and a sales woman had trouble understanding my Ukrainian in one place. The girl who served us coffee asked us if we were American, and then said thank you and goodbye in English.
The cafe where we drank coffee and sat outside for a couple of hours.
All the trains run on Kyiv time, but the locals follow Central European time (an hour behind Kyiv time).
On Friday, there was a walking tour. I peaced out of this early because I had basically walked the entire town earlier in the day as my friend and I tried to find our hotel and the bus station. We also hung out in the park and ate ice cream!
The park in the center of town.
The monument in the middle.
The event itself was held on Saturday morning, and there were 1k, 5k, 10k, and half marathon races. I ran the 10k, and everyone received a little medal and wine glass with two free wine tasting tickets inside. Berehove is wine country, and after the races there was a wine festival. I tasted both the white and red wines and they were delicious. I bought a bottle of white to split with my friend, and I bought a bottle of red as a gift for my landlord. There was also lots of barbecuing going on, and I ate some delicious 'shashleek' (shishkabob).
Everything went really well, with the exception of our hotel not having our reservation so we ended up spending our second night in Mukacheve. That was fine though, because our train back to Lviv left from Mukacheve. Overall, it was an awesome trip.
Some kind of memorial.
Mausoleum.
This cemetery was like a jungle. It was pretty and very different from other Ukrainian cemeteries I've seen.
Flowers on a grave.
The bridge over the river.
Two Changes
1) I'm not so great at posting things as they happen, so I've decided to treat this blog more like a job. And in theory, it is. Core Expectation 3: Helping promote a better understanding of other peoples on the part of Americans. So that is my motivation for being timely.
2) A PCV friend told me this weekend that he was told to treat his community like his kingdom and do what he wants. This was an epiphany for me. I've been so worried about stepping on people's toes and getting involved in political/gossip situations that I haven't accomplished much of anything besides teaching my normal schedule, even though I have ideas for programs I want to do. So from now on, it's less thinking and more doing.
2) A PCV friend told me this weekend that he was told to treat his community like his kingdom and do what he wants. This was an epiphany for me. I've been so worried about stepping on people's toes and getting involved in political/gossip situations that I haven't accomplished much of anything besides teaching my normal schedule, even though I have ideas for programs I want to do. So from now on, it's less thinking and more doing.
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