Coming to Terms

Well, it’s been awhile, again. But honestly, I’ve been here long enough that most things seem so routine that they’re not worth blogging about. I figure you’d like to at least know what I’ve been up to, so here’s a quick rundown of the past couple months.

I spent my birthday in the Carpathian Mountains in western Ukraine with my training group at our Close of Service Conference. Basically Peace Corps treated us like kings and put us up in a resort and fed us awesome food and let us chill for a few days. Then I met up with some friends in the Healthy Lifestyles Working Group and we went skiing for a couple days. It was a sweet trip.

As far as I can remember, March was pretty quiet, until Mom came the first week of April. I took her and Tia, her chaperone, down to Yalta in Crimea. Except for the dreary weather, it was a great trip. I didn’t realize all the history hidden down in Crimea. Took Mom and Tia back to my site for literally a few hours and drug her through school, English club, and a dinner with some Ukrainian friends before sending them off to their own adventures in Amsterdam. Ask them about that. It’ll make you giggle.

Mattison (my sitemate) and I hosted another ultimate Frisbee weekend which was a resounding success. Then I spent Easter camping in the woods of Svyatagorsk and spent most of the night before Easter standing outside a monastery and hiking a mountain. Since then it’s been bike rides, Spring weather, numerous holidays, picnics, and dachas (Ukrainian summer houses/gardens).

Workwise, I’ve been working on a pretty large summer camp at a secondary site focused on Healthy Lifestyles. It’ll be in July so I won’t get to see the fruits of my labor, but we’ve got the whole Healthy Lifestyles Working Group working on it so I have no doubt it will be successful. That secondary site, an agricultural technical school, is pretty awesome so I convinced them to apply for a volunteer and they should be getting one this June.

I think I mentioned earlier that I wrote a grant for a journalism club at my site. Well, we got our money and bought a computer with all the trimmings, a camera, and a nice printer. Now my school has the capability to be the only school in the area that can print a newspaper, and it’s only one of three schools in the oblast with such capabilities. Believe me, they’re proud of that, and I can't help being proud too. They have definitely run with the project.

Otherwise I don’t do much of anything at school. Except for the summer camp I don’t have any outstanding projects. It’s all winding down and I can’t believe it.

I knew this time would come; the time when there’s no time left and all that’s left is reflection. It’s time to come to terms with a lot. Did I really accomplish anything? Did I do my best? Can I go home satisfied with what I did here? How are people going to remember me here? Will they remember me at all? How does this all come to play in my future? What will I do with all the relationships I’ve made that are about to be subjected to a nearly insurmountable distance? How do I make the most of the hastily receding time I have left in country? All these questions and many more are swirling in my head.

Peace Corps is nothing if not sobering. I feel like I had to fight and scrape to accomplish anything that met my definition of success at my school. So accomplishing anything seems to be something to hang my hat on. But then I start working at that agricultural technical school and accomplish as much there in one day as I do at my own school in a month. It’s hard not to look at that and think I could have accomplished so much more had circumstances been different.

But I’ve really come to appreciate that small measure of success. At least I won’t leave Ukraine feeling completely defeated. There have been times where I sit and wonder if I’m really cut out for this. But I know now how to fight and endure, and I know that when everything falls into place, I can run.

I know I’ll never be satisfied with what I did here, and that’s not a bad thing. I haven’t been satisfied since my first trip to Russia when I was 16. I’ve got this itch to be here and do something about the problems, and each subsequent trip I return with more skill which lets me do more. I know I haven’t reached my full potential yet, so that means I’ll most likely keep coming back and seeing how and where else I can be useful.

As for the future, I’m going to go to grad school to study International Relations. Somehow I got into Johns Hopkins and on top of that they are sending me to their Bologna, Italy campus to spend my first year. It’s an incredible opportunity, and by specializing in Russian and Eurasian Studies I’ll be setting myself up for a career in scratching that itch. I know this opportunity would never have been possible without doing Peace Corps in Ukraine, so that, if nothing else, makes this whole experience worth it.

Only time will tell what will happen to the relationships I’ve cultivated here, whether with Ukrainians or Americans. As my past has shown, I’ll always consider them close friends, but some will stay in close touch and make the effort to get together, while others I may never see or hear from again. And those who stay close won’t necessarily be those I’d expect.

Talking about this and what I’ll do with the remaining month and a half just makes me incredibly sad. I have impossibly mixed emotions about leaving. I miss my family, friends, and home intensely, especially since the tornado struck. But this is home too, and coming back isn’t like a trip from Ringgold to Athens. I don’t know what the future holds and if I’ll ever even get back here. Right now, just the possibility of coming back is getting me through. That’s all I got. So basically I’m just trying not to think about it, thus another reason I put off blogging.

Anyways, it’s warm finally so I’m soaking up my favorite season in Ukraine. I’ll be home at the end of June. I expect to party the entire two months or so before I head off again to Italy, so get ready.

Veteranism

Having spent 22 months in Ukraine now there is one feeling in particular that stands out: I’m a veteran. We just got a huge group of newbies. I was able to spend Christmas with a lot of them and I couldn’t help but think they have a long way to go. The questions they asked and the advice they sought made me look back at the fears and concerns I had when I first arrived in the country, and then at site. I realize how much I’ve grown and developed since I’ve been here.

I came as group 36. The next group, 37, arrived the Christmas before last. I was already somewhat a vet when they arrived, but that group constitutes the majority of my friends and we have figured out Peace Corps Ukraine together. Since then, groups 38, 39, and 40 have arrived. Now I just feel old. Most of the volunteers who arrive are only a year or two younger than me, but I feel, and sometimes am perceived, to be much older. There’s just something 2 years experience in Peace Corps will do to you.

There are a lot of things new volunteers have to figure out. It starts simple: which market has the freshest food, where to find the Oreos in your town, how to negotiate the confusing bus and train system, which teachers are the easiest to work with at school. But then things start to get more complex: how to cook potatoes and buckwheat in the most possible combinations to stretch out that meager Peace Corps stipend, where to go to get taco seasoning, how to get the train station cashier to call you when a seat opens up on a booked train, how to negotiate a grant and make your teachers do a project truly American style.

You start to learn how to get through life the easiest way possible. You get a certain Peace Corps street smarts that helps you avoid difficult situations. You get desensitized and learn what’s not worth freaking out about. You also develop much better language skills which just makes everything easier, not to mention you eventually find most of the people in town who speak English.

You also learn what you need to do to take care of yourself. Whether it be a night out with friends, watching marathons of The Office, splurging on the one excuse for a steak at the store, a vacation to Egypt, or a Skype date with an old friend, there are some things you just have to do to keep sane. As volunteers in Ukraine we often get a bad rap as living the easy life of Peace Corps. But people who consider Ukraine to be Europe, or even Eastern Europe for that matter are making a mistake. Where I live in Ukraine, until relatively recently, has always been Russia, a country with its own religion, its own political system, its own traditions. Yes the West has had its influence and can be seen in daily life, but the existence of McDonalds here makes Ukraine only as western as Iraq. This culture picks and chooses what to adopt, and never fully conforms to a western mindset. The fact that the majority of the people look like white Europeans only serves as a false façade. The cultural differences are vast and complicated and easily catch you off guard. Nothing is simple. So when the divide gets overwhelming, it’s necessary to find ways to escape.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not constantly trying to create a little American haven within Ukraine. I have fully immersed myself in this culture and integrated well in my community. I feel at home here now and could see myself living here indefinitely. I’m going to miss it dearly. That’s part of being a veteran too – knowing how to balance remaining American in Ukraine. Sometimes it feels like I’m being pulled apart in two different directions: loving adventure too much to stay put in America; loving America too much to ever be fully Ukrainian. It takes reconciling the bittersweet emotions of a love for your homeland and a love for the exotic to survive in a situation like Peace Corps.

Why We Stay Two Years

As I get deeper into my second year as a volunteer, the more grateful I am that my contract stipulates I spend at least two years at my site. As I experience similar situations as a year ago I see how much more capable I am at dealing with them and how much more productive I can be. But there are other reasons as well that prove two years is better than one.

I can honestly say if it weren't for the second year, I would have accomplished nearly nothing during my tenure as a volunteer. My first fall in Ukraine saw me struggling. I was fighting with my school creating frustration on both sides. I was accomplishing nothing and my school seemed to be making sure that was the case. Spring brought a new perspective and I gave in to my school's way of doing things. However, no matter how hard I tried to make them happy nothing really happened, though progress was made and a status quo was established. Summer saw break throughs and my school was finally impressed with some of my projects. Now the doors are wide open. Not only am I allowed to do projects that before wouldn't have stood a chance, but I receive true support.

Part of the success I'm experiencing is due to time. It took ages for my school's and my expectations to finally meet somewhere in the middle. Now that my school is comfortable with me and I with them we have a productive working relationship. But I've also developed as a volunteer and can do my job better. I speak much better Russian which helps immensely. I know where to look for support and who to talk to in order to get things done. Plus I have a few successes to hang my hat on to prove I'm not just blowing hot air.

The result of all this is that I'm scrambling to pack as many projects in to my remaining time as possible. I'm trying to make up for last year and turn my defeats into victories during this last school year. Projects that failed miserably last fall stand a fighting chance. Projects that saw some measure of success are being improved upon. And I'm boldly embarking on new projects that still probably don't stand a chance, but are worth a shot. If not for the second year I would have left this place frustrated wondering about the meaning of life.

I'm also realizing I made some hasty judgments in my first year. You'll remember in one of my previous blogs I mentioned that Ukrainians seem to let the land lay fallow before winter and make no effort to prepare anything before snow falls looking forward to spring. Well, I was wrong. Last fall was miserable. It rained everyday and the first snow fell early in November. It was terribly cold terribly early. This fall has been much milder. The sun shines way more than rain falls. Snow isn't even in the picture on these beautiful crisp fall days where everything seems to glow. The result of such fine weather is that everyone is raking leaves and burning all the trash collected with them. The work has been feverish for over two weeks now. Had I not been around to see a second fall, my first, more negative, theory would have held. It takes time to really understand what's going on around you. This isn't the only instance, and I despair at the thought of what naivety would be unmasked by five years in this country.

Two years have also given the opportunity for acquaintances to become true friends. I am happy that I have found several Ukrainians I enjoy spending time with and talking to. I did meet most of them last year, but knowing I would be spending another year here made me much more apt to make the effort to pursue deeper friendships. Furthermore, some people I met but did not attempt to get to know very well have become good friends this second year. It honestly took either them or me time to get the courage to make an attempt at friendship. We quickly find that we've been missing out.

I'm sure all volunteers would agree with me, two years is necessary. Most would advocate an even longer term, as is evidenced by those extending their service for up to an extra year. Have not doubt, two years is a long time and we feel it as strongly as you at home. But in order to accomplish what we came for, whether it be lasting change, cultural understanding, or new relationships, time is necessary. We didn't come here to visit. We knew we were making an investment, and it is one that has payed back tenfold.

The Summer 'Recap'

Well, it’s been a long time, and a lot’s happened this past summer. I know a lot of you aren’t big fans of the ‘recap’, but I feel one’s necessary to even begin to move forward. Unfortunately there’s not one major theme that can tie everything together. But my summer has definitely been one for the books, and lived up to every expectation I had.

I began in early June by holding a leadership school for the 5^th through 8^th grades at my school. My site mate Mattison helped me out, and we conducted short lessons and activities on leadership. The lessons went ok, except for one day the kids were just stubborn and massive pains. The setup wasn’t ideal – around 50 kids at a time stuck in an auditorium on the first days of summer break. Luckily the lessons only lasted about 45 minutes. It was the first time I and my school found something major to work together on, and the first time I think they really took me seriously. I actually felt their appreciation, which is a big success.

Through a lucky miscommunication and an executive decision by my director, I got ‘stuck’ babysitting the 1^st through 5^th graders during their school day camp. At first it was assumed I was incapable of handling the rugrats in Russian for 4 hours a day. But they don’t realize I operate on around a 5^th grade level, and there are plenty of different ways to communicate besides words. I had a blast and got to know the kids that had more or less been hidden from me due to reservations based on my language abilities. It was a ton of fun and most likely opened up some opportunities. Most of all, I garnered more approval from my school.

Then there was some blissful time off. I went out to Lviv and got to see the Polish side of Ukraine which was really Western and beautiful in contrast to the stark, Soviet East. I got to go rock climbing and camping. Me and Mattison put our bikes to work as evidenced by the necessity to allot 30 extra minutes every ride for repairs. We probably found every swimmable pond in a 30 mile radius.

Then I took off for Russia. I met up with a group from my church in Ringgold down in the Caucasus Mountains and helped with a summer camp. I got to really practice my Russian and put my Peace Corps training to use while teaching football and ultimate Frisbee. The camp site was beautiful, right next to a river and in view of snow capped peaks. I made some amazing friends and really felt like I was with brothers and sisters. No floods this time, but a nasty stomach virus spread through all the Americans, starting with me. I was lucky just to suffer for one night, but there was one moment where I looked around and lonelily wondered where all the Americans had gone. They were all holed up in the hotel on the premises of the conference center where we had our meals and meetings. Luckily everybody was healthy enough to travel to Moscow and on to home.

Moscow was excellent. Did the typical tourist stuff with the group around Red Square. Then I spent some time with an acquaintance in one of the outer areas of the city. I hoped she would just let me explore on my own and let me rest from my exhausting time in the mountains. No. She wanted to show me her favorite parks, both of which were massive and nowhere near her apartment. But they were amazing and beautiful and she was a brilliant guide. I finally got the gist of Moscow summer life with people lolling about on the grass, playing sports, strolling at glacial paces I find impossible to mimic. Muscovites love their parks and cherish the sun. As for resting, my hostess graciously allowed me to nap for a couple of hours in a park since her apartment was too hot, and then took me to the gym at 10pm. Around midnight we had coffee, then we went to the grocery store. I was exhausted and ready to pass out, and she finally let me go to sleep. The next day I took a marvelously air conditioned speed train to St. Petersburg.

In St. Petersburg I ran myself ragged. In the 5 days I spent there I probably saw what most people would comfortably see in a week and a half. But with the basic absence total darkness, it was too hard not to lounge in a park reading a book past 10pm. I missed most of my meals except when I could grab a little street food, started my day early, and collapsed late. St. Petersburg is a baroque Disney World. Luckily, baroque is my favorite style, and I just couldn’t get enough. The palaces located away from the city looked like fairy tales with sprawling English gardens. The czars really didn’t get the concept of modesty. My only issue with St. Pete was that it was so disjointed and difficult to get around. It wasn’t a very cohesive city, like Moscow. But then again, it wasn’t planned to be. Of note, I ate all of my meals in wonderful fast food restaurants I haven’t set foot in for over a year. Pizza Hut, Subway, KFC, just to name a few. The best ones were the restaurants that had drink machines that would let you fill your cup with as much ice as you wanted, a phenomenon I’m not sure exists anywhere in Ukraine. You might think it’s sad or pathetic that I didn’t go for more native cuisine, but let’s be honest. I eat borsch every day at school, and it really doesn’t get more complex than that. Forgive me for going for comfort rather than the norm.

I came back to Ukraine and had a couple weeks to recover before I began work at a couple of camps. However, the camp for which I was the activities director got canceled at the very last minute due to soviet style extortion. I was disappointed, but it gave me some more time to relax, like I needed it. I went out to central Ukraine for Camp LEAD, which was focused on leadership, as the name implies. I worked like a dog to explain concepts like stigma and discrimination to high schoolers, but they were troopers and I wanted to bring them all back to my school with me. I had a blast and got lots of much needed practice teaching in front of a classroom.

Then school started. Having met with my director and assistant director, it seems we’ve finally struck middle ground for what the school wants from me. They realize my limitations, but understand it’s not a lack of effort. So they are finally making concessions that will hopefully lead to a more successful semester. I’m also working on a grant to create a communications center for the school where they can write newspapers and record radio broadcasts. The thought of their American bringing them money has definitely increased my approval rating.

Then out of the ashes Camp HEAL came back into existence. It had to be scaled back, but it was still a great success and I got to perform the duties I was so looking forward to. As was Camp LEAD, Camp HEAL was extremely exhausting. But this time I was working with university students and developed some closer relationships, especially since their English was excellent. Camp HEAL covered some major topics such as leadership, HIV/AIDS biology and transmission, human trafficking, and healthy lifestyles. The participants also had to write, film, and produce a 30 second PSA about a topic from the camp. To test students’ comprehension of topics, we had them prepare a lesson plan from one of the topics covered at the camp and teach it to other students from their university. The camp only lasted 3.5 days, but it was intense and left some lasting impressions on the students. Plus, they now know tons of ridiculous games I and the other counselors taught them. So it wasn’t all work and no play.

This summer, as you probably heard me complain, was unbearably hot. I don’t understand how a place that experiences -20 F temperatures in winter can see sustained +100 F temperatures in the summer. Believe me, the infrastructure is better designed to handle -20 than +100. But the temperature quickly dropped. Now we’re in the 50s and 60s everyday, much to my dismay. I love fall, but not in September. At this rate it’s going to snow in October, and that’s not okay. We’re making the best of it. Me and Mattison put in 140 miles on the bikes this weekend, thanks to a 70 mile group ride which featured some Dutch people and a trip down into a massive salt mine. We’re even trying to pretend it’s still warm enough to swim, going for quick dips in ponds after warming rides. We’re not really convincing ourselves well though. It’s not cool when things go numb. So now my life is heading back to order now that all the camps are over and school has started back. But I’m on the downward slope – 10 months to go!

Two Wheels

This spring and summer have been all about the bike. After a long and terrible winter, it’s been super therapeutic to be out in the sun for hours rolling through the Ukrainian countryside. It’s been so interesting watching the seasons develop out in the fields. I’ve gotten tons of exercise and have seen more of my region than most Ukrainians I know.

As you should already know, I have two bikes here: a single speed Ukrainian clunker called Belo and a slightly better-than-walmart mountain bike called Arty. I’ve more or less given Belo to my site mate Mattison and I ride Arty when we go out.

Most of our rides are completely adventurous. We take off in one direction out of the city, set our internal compasses in one direction, then take whatever dirt roads catch our interest. These rides have really opened up my eyes to the beauty of the steppe. Rivers, hollows, hills, plains, villages, ponds, pastures, cows, goats, forest, babushkas, and wheat. Tons and tons of wheat. We’ve seen it all. We’ve watched the fields change color. We’ve gotten stuck in foot deep mud. We’ve navigated through herds of cattle. It’s definitely back country riding.

Sometimes we here about natural wonders nearby and head out to find them. There are these natural white cliffs that for some reason poke out of one hill in a city not too far away. But they’re not typical stone. The best I can describe it is a kind of chalk. It makes for a rather gorgeous sight. They are easy to access and climb around, so it’s easy to get a good view from the top. We also found this small canyon nearby which has cliffs of its own. The access trail was a pretty good drop which made things interesting. There’s a nature preserve and a lake which has also been excellent to ride around.

Here lately, we’ve taken to linking up cities. We’ll pick certain cities or villages and take off on long circuits. The longest we’ve put together so far was 60 miles. We look at a map before we go but rely on the locals for the rest. It’s excellent to walk up to a taxi stand and set off an argument about the quickest way to get to X on a bike. Of course the initial reaction is “you want to go WHERE?” And then there’s “you’re coming from WHERE?” We’ve had some really interesting conversations. But we’ve never been hopelessly lost.

A few weekends ago we went on an organized ride put on in a neighboring city. It was focused on touring the history of Orthodoxy in the area. So we went to significant villages and churches, saw a couple crosses, and listened to a priest or two. Unfortunately we didn’t understand much of the history that was related to us. The organization of the ride was great. We had the full support of a lead car and a SAG wagon. Water was provided as well as any mechanical aid we needed. The pace was miserably slow, so we ended up being on the bike for around 10 hours including all our breaks. Near the end of the ride we turned off the road and found people cooking over a fire and setting up a picnic in a small clearing in the forest. We were surprised when we learned they were cooking for us. They had Ukrainian kulesh, porridge, fried fish, cucumber salad, the works. We were hoping for hotdogs and hamburgers, but this was much more culturally appropriate, of course. There were nearly 30 people from around the area on the ride and everybody made it all 40 miles. Me and Mattison had to ride 10 miles each way to get to the start so we ended up having another 60 mile day. The ride was free, so from what we gathered, it was a local Orthodox church reaching out to the community.

We’ve met a local mechanic in a nearby city and have made friends with him. It’s been interesting going and just sitting at his shop and watching the community come by and get their bikes fixed. He really knows his stuff. He makes building a wheel, one of the most technical and difficult repairs a bike mechanic can do, look like child’s play. It’s so obvious his shop is an integral part of the community. Everybody who comes in seems to know him. And a look around the city shows that cycling is popular, and I would bet our mechanic friend Andre has a lot to do with that. He’s let Mattison and me work off our debts to him. If we need him to fix something for us, we’ll take care of his more minor tasks while we’re waiting. Once he did a quick fix on my bike for nothing, or else I had saved up some credit somewhere.

Sometimes I feel like Arty has saved me. I’ve come out of a deep dark place from this winter and bike rides have been the only thing that gives me a lasting fulfillment. It feels so good blowing off energy and regaining muscles. It’s done wonders for my mood and state of mind. It’s also opened up parts of summer I wouldn’t have been able to enjoy otherwise. For example, our last couple rides have simply been to test out the different ponds in the area. I thank God for my bike and the ability to ride it. It’s made all the difference.

Presence

At the moment, if you ask me what one thing has been the biggest key to any success I've had in Ukraine thus far, I would tell you that mere presence can make all the difference.

I came in like gangbusters with training, energy, motivation, ideas, and ideals. Well that didn't get me very far. I thought I was doing everything the way I was supposed to, furthermore, like my school wanted me to. After a while, it became obvious that the harder I tried the more the projects I attempted slipped away. This led to much frustration for both parties, both feeling like we'd been given a raw deal by Peace Corps - me feeling like I had an uncooperative site; my school feeling like they'd been given a crappy volunteer.

Largely due to my Ukrainian Peace Corps manager's advice, I made being present at my school a priority. That meant going to school even when I had nothing to do; going to English classes and sitting in the back even though the teacher didn't allow me to help; going to staff meetings which are often in Ukrainian, a language that eludes me even more than Russian. And most recently it meant going to events that I wasn't even invited to.

On May 9, the former Allies except America celebrated Victory Day over the Nazis in WWII. I haven't experienced this holiday anywhere else, but I can't imagine it's observed more furtively than in the former Soviet Union. And rightly so, as the Soviets sacrificed millions of their citizens and massive swaths of their lands, more than any other single country during the war. Though if you ask a veteran here whether the Soviets needed America's help to defeat Germany, you're likely to get a resounding no. Victory Day is possibly the biggest point of pride for a former Soviet, the day they saved their own country and ideals from oblivion. This year marked the 65th anniversary of that day.

I was able to gather from teachers at my school that our students would be hosting a ceremony at a memorial in a tiny village nearby. I learned what time the bus would be leaving for the village and told them I would be there. Much to their surprise I actually showed up at 8am on a Sunday morning to catch a rickety old bus with students to go to an obscure village with no obvious motivation to do so.

I noticed the assistant director in charge of the ceremony was panicking slightly, and found out nobody had a camera to document the event. It just so happened I had brought my camera and I scored major points as the assistant director gave covert head jerks and finger points to make sure the proper photos were taken throughout.

As the students were getting ready, my school's director came over to me and offered that I give a short speech during the ceremony for the veterans. I of course was completely unprepared and was luckily allowed to give my speech in English and have it translated. I spoke about how Americans understand and respect the sacrifice the Soviet Union made in WWII. I told about my grandfather and how he fought against the Nazis, just as the men I was standing in front of had. I spoke of the solidarity between two rival nations that must always be remembered on a day when peace returned to the world.

That my grandfather was a veteran of WWII was rather surprising to those who I work with. I think they were actually impressed, and were willing to admit that perhaps I might understand a little bit about what this holiday means to them.

At one point I and the students gave flowers to the veterans and villagers. I found an old man who was wearing a 'California U.S.A.' trucker hat who didn't have a flower and gave him mine. I didn't realize the significance of this until later.

After the meeting, the entire village was bussed back to our school where the typical celebratory appetizers and spirits had been arranged. We ate and toasted and the mood moved from somber to joyous. Some of the women began singing a song, and immediately the entire room swelled with the voices of the villagers joining in 'Katusha', the song most Soviets associate with WWII and their victory. I brought out my camera again and began to video them as they sang. A couple of the women noticed and threw their arms around me and made sure that the revelers sang at least 5 more verses so I would have plenty of footage.

I looked down my table and noticed the man I had given my flower to was near the end. I caught his eye and he smiled and nodded at me. I went back to my mashed potatoes, and the teacher I was talking to was beckoned by the man to speak with him. When she returned she explained to me that the man was very thankful to me for giving him the flower. It was the only flower he was given, this man who fought so bravely to give himself the right to quietly pass his days in a small village in Ukraine, in freedom. We stood and toasted to each other and exchanged a furtive handshake. As he made his way out of the room he picked a few of the petals off the flower and gave them to me. I was almost beside myself.

As more people trickled out of the little cafeteria, the ladies began singing again. You could hear in their voices the jubilation and the pride at what their country had accomplished. It was so beautiful, the emotion so deep and real. I couldn't take it anymore. I broke down into tears and was completely overwhelmed by emotion. The mayor of the village I was talking to clapped me on the back and said, "It's a beautiful holiday isn't it?"

So it was that merely showing up made for one of the greatest experiences I've had in Peace Corps so far. My presence was unexpected, but I could tell it was appreciated. Who knows how this one day will pay off in the future. It's learning these subtleties that is helping me slowly but surely make something of my work.

Only Today

I've been neglecting writing the requisite post describing the wonders of spring and the burgeoning of life in Ukraine after such a dismal winter. It all seemed too cliche. But I've come to realize the Ukrainian response to spring illuminates a deeper mentality some would say is peculiar to Soviets.

In one of my favorite accounts of the Soviet Union, Off The Map, there is a dialogue between an American and a Soviet woman. When an American woman expresses her wish for pancakes every day like the ones she has just tasted, the Soviet woman replies, "It is wasteful to think of tomorrow...tomorrow is only tomorrow and it will come and you cannot change it." The American woman questions, "Then you never think of tomorrow?" "I wait for tomorrow. I see only today," is the Soviet's answer.

Beginning the week before Easter, Ukrainians exploded in a torrent of work. The snow had melted only a very few weeks before. People began raking yards, burning piles of what they raked, painting curbs, shoveling and sweeping dirt off streets, patching potholes, installing new storefronts to shops, washing cars, on and on. After this was all accomplished, tilled earth began appearing everywhere. Almost any patch of available ground became the foundation of some form of garden. I imagine all these gardens have been planted by now, but the fruits of such labor have yet to be realized, except where the barren stalks of recently planted flowers are waiting to burst into full bloom.

It is as if Ukraine has awoken from a long slumber, much like any place I can imagine that experiences a true winter. But not so much as waking from sleep, as rising from the dead. The difference these past few weeks have made is night and day. If I ask myself what visible efforts Ukrainians made to prepare for winter, I could not point to any. Last fall it was as if everything stopped in time. Roads were washed to ruin, trees cut down and left where they fell, yards overgrown with weeds, roadsides covered in trash, and worst of all, manhole covers crumbled and left wide open. I found a few of these the hard way.

I think back to my American memories of frantically trying to get everything ready for winter. I remember my family toiling for days in the yard making sure every leaf and acorn was cleared. We meticulously covered the pool and added appropriate chemicals to the water. Those of us who had boats or other such summery toys took the proper precautions for what winter might do to them inside garages. Exterior vents were covered. Water pipes were insulated. All of this done so either nothing would be ruined over winter, or reconditioning would be made easier in the spring. I'll never forget the joy of only having to pull off the cover of the pool, set up the filter, and add a little water during the first heat wave of the year if the pool had been winterized correctly. And nothing was worse than trying to mow the yard the first time if the leaves had not been raked the previous fall. But everything done in preparation for winter was done with the expectation that spring was imminent, and winter only to be endured.

The way Ukrainians have treated their work this spring seems as though no spring were expected. Why pick up the tree if there's no guarantee of spring? Why build the roads to withstand winter if there's no guarantee for winter to end? And what is lost if nothing is done before winter? If spring does come, it can all be taken care of then. Life is dealt with as it comes. Problems are addressed when they need to be, but not before.

Now, don't mistake this for procrastination or laziness. The moment Clean Thursday came before Easter, everyone, I mean everyone, began working with a zeal any American would envy. It was as if my city suddenly became aware of the mess and was embarrassed by it. It simply exemplifies to me the mentality to live for today, for the moment. If that moment is good, it will be remembered, even glorified as will soon be shown by the celebration of the 50th anniversary of the victory of WWII. But to work ahead is pushing it. The bitter sting of disappointment is still strong in the former Soviet Union of failed hopes for tomorrow.

Evidence of 'только сегодня (tolka sevodnya)', 'only today', is everywhere, whether it be the white paint on curbs already washing off, or the factory worker standing at the ATM pulling out every penny in his account on payday. It's been difficult getting used to living and working in this mindset. But maybe with time, a little bit of 'завтра (zaftra)', 'tomorrow', a much more poetic word in my opinion, will creep into the frozen Soviet mindset.