MoldovAnn

We started the multi-day celebrations of my darling husband’s birthday today. We were awoken at 7:15 by some friends calling to wish him a Happy Birthday - we are both accustomed to the fact that there is no sleeping in on your birthday! That was just the first of a slew of calls he will get all day long from friends, relatives, and colleagues.

We’ll be in Korosten for the weekend, celebrating Friday night with friends, Saturday with family. Sunday Igor is taking Michael to the forest for mushroom hunting. I, happily, can finally be excused from this activity. I just don’t get any thrill out of it, but Igor, his parents, and millions of Ukrainians anxiously await mushroom season and gleefully spend hours skulking through the forests in search of mushrooms. Me? I think it’s hot, uncomfortable, boring, and an endless battle against mosquitoes. Of course I’m more than happy to help with the eating of the delicious mushrooms! That’s more my kind of sport.

I didn’t manage to get his birthday present here in time to give him today (a digital camera ordered from the US), so today he got a new camera bag with a lovely picture of his soon-to-be camera. When I left for work this morning, he was already scouring websites to learn all about his new toy. It should be here in a couple of weeks, when a friend comes back to Kyiv. Nothing like a bit of anticipation!

So, my darling - З днем народження!

I’m still exhausted - slept until 11 this morning, and am still in bed at 3:10 pm, lazily reading email, blogs and a bit of news, drinking some of the fabulous Pascalov family wine that they sent back with us yesterday. It doesn’t keep long once it’s out of the barrel, which is the perfect excuse for us to drink up the 4 litres we have as quickly as possible!

I hardly know where to start. Our departure from Kyiv eleven days ago seems like ages ago. All the driving took WAY longer than we’d anticipated. The roads are poor and inadequate, and the traffic was heavy. Much of the nearly 2800 kilometers (1740 miles) was traversed at a speed of no more than 60-80 kph (~ 35-50 mph). It was quite maddening at many times, especially since much of Ukraine looks like Kansas - flat fields with occasional clusters of trees. After the first hour, it’s rather bland and monotonous scenery. The one interesting site on the long drive to Crimea was the South Ukraine Nuclear Power Plant, which you pass surprisingly close to. If Dad ever posts his photos to Flickr, I’ll link from here. Unfortunately, our camera is useless since we seem to have left the battery charger cord in the US (or lost it somewhere in transit). Thus, no photos from us on this trip.

I had hoped to drive to Mykolaiv Friday night, a little under 400 km from Kyiv. Instead, we made it to Pervomaisk, about 250 kilometers, in about four hours, where we met up with some Korosten friends coming from a trip in western Ukraine. We found a strange little hotel for the night, with big plans to start early Saturday morning on the remaining 500 km. We figured we would have lunch in Bakhchisarai - hah! After a late start (which followed a late evening with the aforementioned Korosten friends, a bottle of vodka and several bottles of beer), coupled with the slow, tedious and HOT drive over bumpy, busy roads, we made it in time for a very late dinner. We were all exhausted and filthy from the dusty drive - did I mention the car doesn’t have air conditioning? Our options were to melt if we closed the windows, or sneeze endlessly from the dust if we left them open.

The first order of business on Sunday was to get to the beach. We spent the entire day at Uglovoye, the beach were Igor and I have vacationed the past couple of years. It was different to be there with a group of people - Dad, Sasha, Lesya and their two kids. Fun, but not quite as relaxing as it is when we vacation alone. We enjoyed the sun, sea and fresh fruit throughout the day, and dragged ourselves back to the hotel in Bakhchisarai for dinner. Everybody was beat.

Monday we went to the mountain lake we had visited in May. This had been the big plan of this trip - to revisit the lake to spend time hiking, swimming and even camping there. Igor, Dad and I got there before Sasha and Co., and we were horribly disappointed. First, the water level had dropped so low the lake was maybe not even half the size it had been in May. But even worse was that the whole area was full of campers, and it was completely filthy. We found a more-or-less unoccupied spot on the far side of the lake and got out of the car only to be overwhelmed by the smell - that must have been the designated toilet area. It was disgusting. We were so disappointed, and disgusted. We left after just a few minutes, met up with Sasha and family and decided to try to find another lake area he’d heard about. After an hour or so of fruitless searching, I’d lost all patience and turned the car around to head back to town. Dad, Igor and I were all irritable (to put it mildly), tired and hungry. We went to the new hotel we’d moved to in the morning, and sat in our corners quietly ignoring each for awhile.

This hotel was actually a private house a few hundred meters from the famous Khan’s Palace. I had first seen it last year, before it had opened for business, when I met up with a Peace Corps volunteer who knew the owners. She had shown me the place, but I didn’t have any contact info to make a reservation. So we stayed the first two nights in the dumpy Soviet hotel, until I finally found the place and lo and behold they had some rooms available! It’s built on the side of a hill (like most of the town of Bakhchisarai), and the first floor is still under construction. We stayed on the second floor, where there are five rooms of varying size, each with own toilet and shower, a small communal kitchen, and a small communal room where we often found the owner and her adorable pug Bur-bon. She was kind enough to let us check email on her laptop, and one evening Igor and I sat on the veranda with her, drinking Crimean balsam, eating fresh-picked grapes, enjoying the cool evening air and beautiful bright night sky, chatting late into the night. They don’t have a website, and so far are operating by word-of-mouth. We liked the place a lot, and it inspired me to start a page of places that are worth knowing about - so here are my travel recommendations. I’ll continue to add to the site, so keep checking back.

Tuesday we wanted to see Marble Cave, a site deceptively close on the map that proved a lot harder to get to than we’d expected. We tried several roads that looked like shortcuts on our map, only to be repeatedly told by locals that it wasn’t possible to get where we were going by the roads we were trying. About 4 hours after starting out for what we thought we would be a one hour drive, max, we finally reached the Marble Cave - to find a mass of people and an hour and a half wait to get in. Tired of the car, we decided to walk over to another cave, supposedly a short 800 meters away. About an hour later, after struggling through forest, down one hillside and up another along a rocky path, we finally found the other freaking cave. It may be 800 meters as the crow flies, but it was definitely longer as the person walks! We were hot, tired, and ready to go home. But after all that effort, how could we leave without seeing a cave? We paid for the short tour, which turned out to go barely beyond the first cavern. The longer tour was over 90 minutes long, though, and we just weren’t up for it. The cool cavern air felt great (a steady +7 Celsius year-round). We hiked back to the car, and started the slow drive back to Bakhchisarai. One more attempt at the supposed short-cut also didn’t pan out, but the drive back was a bit quicker. We later bought a map of just Crimea, with better scale, and realized that indeed none of the roads that appeared to connect the two highways actually did so- the scale was just too poor on our first map.

Dad had decided to head back to Kyiv Tuesday night, so we put him on the train in the evening and went out for a fabulous dinner at a family-owned Tatar restaurant. Igor finally got a dose of shashliki to his liking (he is extremely picking about his shashliki, and although he orders it frequently, he almost never likes they way other people prepare it). We went back to the hotel, and spent the aforementioned night on the veranda with the owner. I managed to catch a cold somewhere along the way, so I went to bed early while Igor and the owner stayed up late (I wish I could remember her name! She was fabulous).

Wednesday we couldn’t decide what to do - beach, touring, start the drive to Moldova, nothing? We let the coin decide in the end, and it chose Moldova. So we packed up the car and started another leg of the trip. You’d think by now we would have figured out that everything took twice as long as we’d expected, but no, we were still young and naive. We left Bakhchisarai about noon, once again managing to miss the better early morning hours for driving across the hot, dusty steppe. It took us almost nine hours to drive nearly 300 kilometers (190 miles), and we finally stopped a bit north of Odesa at the town of Koblevo, famous for its wine. We didn’t expect much, as it’s a small town, but were pleasantly surprised to find a very nice hotel in what looked more or less like a trucker stop. The hotel was overpriced, which may have explained the trucks lining the highway - unlikely they were actually staying at the hotel, but instead sleeping in their cabs. We checked in and set out to find something to eat. Since we were in Koblevo, famous for its wine, we first sought out some of the local specialty - and we weren’t disappointed. One bottle of delicious house white wine under arm, we headed to the market across the street, where we found amazing smoked salmon - absolutely perfect, tender and not too salty. We headed back to the hotel, and savored our little feast.

Thursday was the only day when we actually managed to get an early start - we were on the road by 8:30, not even stopping for my usually caffeine dose! Once again, we had naive expectations for the day’s drive, anticipating we would be on the Moldovan border by lunchtime. We had opted to try crossing at a small border point in southern Moldova, near the town of Besarabca, instead of the usual northern crossing point. We thought we’d save time and mileage, since Besarabca is much closer to Tvarditsa. Well, what we failed to notice at first is that the road we expected to travel actually crosses through Moldova at one point, which would mean two more border crossings and god-knows-how much time getting through them. Fortunately we noticed before we actually got on that road, and we veered south of Odesa, adding about 200 kilometers to the trip to travel around the Dniester Liman. But man, was it worth it!

First, the drive around the Dniester Liman was quite interesting. At one point, you drive along a narrow land bridge - the Black Sea on one side, the Dniester Liman on the other (which is so big it looks like a sea too). I had no idea this was a popular vacation spot, and was really surprised by the mass of vacationers and “House for Rent” signs trying to attract said vacationers. Lots and lots of Russian license plates.

The second and much more awesome site was the fortress in the town of Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi. Ah-maz-ing. I can’t believe we almost didn’t stop. We were hot, tired, dusty (which I realize now was the theme of our entire trip), and when we stopped in town to get gasoline, Igor casually mentioned that there was a fortress there. “Is it worth seeing,” I asked. “Yeah, probably,” he said. He’d been there when he was about 12 or 13 and remember being impressed. So we followed the signs and found the fortress, and were utterly stunned. It was fantastic. In remarkably good condition, although clearly neglected and in need of renovation. Entrance was a mere 5 hrivna. We wandered around for an hour or so, climbed in one of the towers, walked along one of the stone walls. We recalled Fort Niagara and thought how amazing it would be if this fortress had the kind of attention, maintenance and tours that were available at Fort Niagara - also an isolated location but really interesting place. I had wanted to visited the fortress at Kamenets-Podolsky on this trip, seeing as how it’s one of the “Seven Wonders of Ukraine” and all, but now I can’t believe that Bilhorod-Dnistrovskyi isn’t on the list. Granted, it’s a pain in the ass to get there, not especially far from Odesa but the roads just plain suck. And the folks around here don’t seem to be much into site seeing when they are on their summer seaside vacations - it’s all about sunning and swimming. But I highly, highly recommend visiting the site. And leave them a nice donation - they need to get the place cleaned up, not to mention the archaeological and historical research that needs to be done! There were a couple of active digs going on, which we were glad to see. One area had been excavated quite well already, revealing the outlines of what was probably the original Greek settlement in the area. At another excavation area a mountain of dirt had been piled up, presumably for the archaeologists to sort through at a later time. Igor scratched around in it for a few minutes, and stood up with a handful of items, which he announced as a couple pieces of ancient pottery (from different periods that he named but I don’t remember), a piece of modern pottery, and a fragment of human clavicle bone. I was impressed. They will join the piece of ancient Greek amphora he picked out of the ground at Khersonesos for me a couple years ago.

That area is also apparently well-known for its wine, and just outside the fortress Igor found a guy selling local wine. He asked me if we had an empty bottle in the car (since the wine was being sold by the glass from small barrels), and I started walking towards the car to bring back an empty water bottle. A minute later I heard Igor calling after me, and I turned to see him drinking out of a Fanta bottle. I was a bit perturbed, thinking he’d bought a bottle of Fanta and was gulping it down to empty it so he could refill it with the wine rather than waiting the 90 seconds for me to come back with the empty water bottle. It was a strange color of Fanta, but there have been some new flavors on the market recently. I took the bottle from him, thinking to help him finish it up so he could refill it with wine, and took a big gulp. “Eechh!”, I chocked it down. “What, you don’t like it?” Igor asked. I looked at the label, wondering what kind of crap someone had thought up this time. “What the hell kind of Fanta is that?” I asked. Igor started laughing - “It’s not Fanta, it’s wine!” Turns out the vendor had an empty bottle, rinsed it out and filled it up with a half-liter of wine to go. For wine, not bad at all, but for Fanta, it was really gross.

We hit the road again, and after Igor downed his “Fanta”, he announced that he realized now what had been missing throughout the trip - not enough wine! He was good and happy for the next couple of hours, until we finally got to the Moldovan border.

The border crossing was indeed small, and although designated for “international” traffic, I highly suspect they’ve never had anyone other than Moldovans and Ukrainians crossing there. It was slow, but we eventually got through with no troubles. We amusingly watched the horses and wagons being allowed to go to the front of the line - I didn’t begrudge them as it was unbearably hot and I felt really sorry the poor animals in that heat. The Ukrainian side of things went very smoothly, the Moldovan side left something to be desired. I chalked it up to two things: (1) it’s almost always easier to leave a country than to get in, and (2) it was Moldova. They still have a long way to go.

Once through, we were left to our devices to figure out how to get to Tvarditsa. Igor was freaking out that we didn’t have a map of Moldova, but I kept telling him a map wouldn’t help since there aren’t any road signs. We traveled the Moldovan way, stopping frequently to ask people if we were going the right way. We had a good laugh when we finally did see a road sign - it said “Drivers! Pay attention to the road signs!” I don’t know if that was someone’s idea of a joke, or if it was a leftover from once upon a time when there actually were signs in Moldova. Either way, it was amusing.

Anya had warned me that the road from Besarabca to Tvarditsa was even worse than it had been when I lived in Moldova, so I opted to take a longer route on better roads. I had told Igor he was unlikely to ever complain about Ukrainian roads again after he saw the roads in Moldova, and by the time we got back to Ukraine a few days later, he fully agreed. I’m sorry to say that most of them fully met up to my low expectations. But aside from the route having slightly better road conditions, I was happy to approach Tvarditsa from Ceadir-Lunga because I love the road lined with fruit-trees, and my favorite “Welcome to Tvarditsa” sign. As we drove along this scenic road, I started to reminisce aloud to Igor - the time Petya and I walked from Ceadir-Lunga to Tvarditsa, the spot where I took the photo that hangs on our fridge of the fruit trees covered in ice,

and other happy memories. As we pulled into the village, I pointed out the Culture Palace, the library, the school, the church, the mayor’s office - with its bright new paint job! As we drove up the street I suddenly worried that I wouldn’t remember which house was Anya and Gresha’s - but that was silly of me to worry. Of course I remembered. We pulled up in front, walked through the gate, and Babushka was there to greet us - big smile on a tiny little lady! Wow, was I glad to see her.

It just felt so wonderful to be there again, to be in that familiar, friendly place in what still seems like the middle of nowhere. I see it a bit differently now, I realize how close it is to Ukraine, the power lines that reach across the invisible border somehow have more meaning to me now that I think of Ukraine as my home. There is another Peace Corps volunteer living there now, in fact she’s almost done with her two years of service. I was excited to meet her, but also secretly happy to hear that although they love her too, Anya and Gresha still think of me as their “favorite daughter”.

It was fun to be there with Igor - I finally brought them a guest who can discuss and debate with Gresha and Sasha easily, who understands their humor and can add new jokes, who can appreciate the cooking and fawn over the wine- man, do they ever have awesome wine! Igor had tried it before when they brought several bottles to our wedding, but after a day of travel, even in winter, it’s just not the same as fresh out of the barrel. After a day, Igor was declining wine that had been in the fridge for a bit, insisting only on freshly-poured wine from the barrel.

It was fun to hear from Igor on the way back to Kyiv about the “other” life in Tvarditsa - the men’s realm. Gresha is a wonderful man, and was always kind and sweet to me, but as a female, I never had complete access to his world. Igor is an observant person by nature (and being a psychologist doesn’t hurt, either), and he picked up on several things that were quite interesting. For one, he recognized the age hierarchy prevalent in this Bulgarian corner of Moldova. Gresha always pores a glass of wine for the oldest man in the group first, followed by the next younger, then the next younger, etc. When it was just the two of them, Gresha would pore for himself first, then Igor. If another man joined them, older than Igor but still younger than Gresha, Igor’s glass was filled third instead of second. Subtle, and really fascinating for Igor. The two of them got along famously - both philosophers in their souls - they spent hours talking about everything.

More to come in the next post. I’ve been working on this off and on all day, and it’s now after 10 pm and I’m getting sleepy.

We had a FANTASTIC time at Niagara Falls. We rode the Maid of the Mist, did the Cave of the Winds tour, and filled the camera memory card in less than 4 hours. I’ll post more photos later. We also drove up to Lake Ontario to Fort Niagara, which was really cool.

More food fantasies were indulged.
Igor: steak, yam (first one in his life), more Guinness beer, bacon.
Ann: Ceasar salads (2), pomegranate martini, tiny little burrito-like things that were fried (brilliant!), salt water taffy (bought it, haven’t eaten it yet), Morningstar soy-sausage breakfast patties, English muffins (about 8), more chips and salsa.

After looking at me in my cute new Eddie Bauer clothes for 3 days, Igor admitted he’s ready to go back to the warehouse store and actually look for himself now. I’ve converted him!

As we were nearing the Niagara Falls area, Igor pointed to a place ahead of us and asked “What is all the smoke from?”
“It’s not smoke,” I told him, “it’s mist from the Falls.” Awe and wonder began to set in.

We are in Ohio! After nearly 24 hours of travel time, numerous delays, and some tense moments in JFK airport, we made it to Columbus late Friday evening, with everything except one suitcase. Fortunately the bag with most of our clothes made it to Columbus, but the bag with most of the presents spent the night in New York and was delivered to us on Saturday afternoon.

Igor was really impressed with Dad’s backyard - it really is a beautiful place full of blooming flowers, shady trees, a little fish pond, and lots and lots of birds. By Saturday afternoon, Igor had announced that he will move to America if he can live in Dad’s backyard.

Shopping was first on the To Do list, as we had brought very little with us (on purpose!). A quick trip to Target for some toiletries ended up being an hour, but Igor got a bathing suit and looked through jeans. He told us how in Soviet times there were three brands of jeans that everyone knew and wanted - Lee, Levi’s and Wrangler. When he saw Wrangler’s on sale for $15, he was thrilled. I suspect we’ll be taking several pairs back to Ukraine with us.

We then went to a local market and got some pork and other cook-out essentials. Igor is going to cook shashliki for our cookout on Sunday, kind of like ke-bobs. Our last shopping adventure for the day was the best shop on earth, the Eddie Bauer Warehouse. I was not disappointed! We spent about an hour there, which was pushing Igor to his limits for shopping for one day. The men’s clothes weren’t on such a great sale, but the women’s summer shirts, skirts and dresses were fantastic. When we finally dragged our haul out to the car and were ready to head back home, Igor asked me if I was satisfied. I look at him with a huge smile and said it felt like I’d just shot up with the best dope around - man, did I ever need an Eddie Bauer fix!

We spent the rest of the afternoon at my brother’s birthday cook-out. He and his family moved into our grandma’s house last summer, and it was the first time I’d seen the place since Grandma died. They’ve done a fantastic job sprucing the place up, and yet have kept a lot of Grandma’s things and it all looks great together. The yard is also beautiful, and Scott told us his plans for the backyard that sound really awesome.

Most of the people at the cookout were Scott and Carina’s friends, of course, but Clintonville is small and our lives and friends overlap in many ways here. My classmate Bob lives a couple houses down from Scott, and I was really happy to see him, his wife Jane and their 5 kids when they mosey over. Bob and I went to school together from 1st to 12th grades, and he grew up across the street from Grandma’s house. We don’t know if we knew each other before 1st grade, but it’s very likely we did.

By 7:30 Igor and I were both ready to fall asleep in our beers, so we decided to walk home. We laid in bed for a bit, listening to the birds sing and really enjoying the peace and quiet. Igor said he’d never imagined it could be so lovely in a city. I’m so glad we came in the summer. I’m so glad we are here. I’m so glad Igor is here with me and that he likes it!

Igor moved to Kyiv one year ago today, which means we are celebrating one year of life together. It has been the best year of my life - new job, cool trips, not to mention marrying the love of my life.

I hope he’ll always feel as happy and content as he looks in this photo

Я люблю тебе, коханий.

We went to Ivano-Frankivsk for the weekend. Saturday was Igor’s 10 year university reunion. It was our first real, long distance road trip in the car. Friday we drove the 600 kilometers in exactly 8 hours. All was fine. Coming back today the same 600 km took 10.5 hours - an extra 40 minutes due to a couple of wrong turns in 2 cities along the way, but a solid extra 2 hours to go the last 70 kilometers into Kyiv - the entire city seemed to be returning along with us on one freakin’ two-lane road. It was a nightmare. My legs hurt so bad from the start-and-stop traffic, and my shoulders are killing me.

At about the 500-km mark we were seriously discussing making the same trip next week for the three-day weekend. As we pulled up to our apartment building I told Igor I had reconsidered and I don’t want to do any driving for the foreseeable future.

We had a great time in Ivano-Frankivsk, though. I really enjoyed meeting Igor’s university classmates. He got more than a little tipsy and very sentimental, which I thought was really cute. I’ll write more about it later, right now I want a stiff drink and a massage.

We spent the long weekend in Korosten to celebrate Orthodox Easter with Igor’s family. We also celebrated Denis’ 16th birthday (Igor’s nephew) and the 17th wedding anniversary of Oksana and Vova, Igor’s sister and brother-in-law and the proud parents of the handsome birthday boy. We knew it would be 3 days of eating, drinking, laughing, and relaxing, plus some tough moments as it was the first family celebration since the death of Igor’s grandmother.

We took our time heading up there on Saturday, spending the beautiful morning with a new colleague, her husband and their 1.5 year old daughter. They’ve been in Kyiv about 3 weeks, and are still trying to get oriented and settled in. We took them to the farmer’s market and the supermarket, and generally enjoyed getting to know them better. Their daughter is just as cute as can be, and they are a very nice couple- she’s just a year younger than me, and we seem to have a lot in common. I’m looking forward to spending more time with both her and her parents.

We took a roundabout way to Korosten, driving first to Ivankiv for a quick visit with my friend Valentina, whom I was supposed to visit last weekend, when car trouble nixed those plans. Valentina is an amazing artist, poet, and lover of traditional Ukrainian arts and crafts. Her real speciality is “floristica”, making beautiful pictures from dried flowers and leaves. She spends tens, sometimes, hundreds of hours on a creation - each unique, each very delicately and purposefully designed and created. The colors, the designs, the types of flowers and leaves, even the arrangment of the scene - it all is created in a specific way for good fung shui. Sometimes they are so detailed and so intricately crafted that it’s only when you look at a picture up superclose do you realize it’s not a painting but instead made from hundreds of tiny petals. They are really breathtaking. I am the proud owner of 3 of her works of art, my favorite of which is called “Sea Fantasy”, with two beautiful blue goldfish with billowing tails, swimming with a school of tiny fish in a coral reef. Just breathtaking.

I have about ten of Valentina’s pictures that I am trying to help her sell - she’s an extremely talented artist, but not so hot at business. She ends up giving away a lot of her pictures because she’s just so sweet and she loves to give people presents. But with two sons in university, she really needs the money. I’ve sold two of her pictures so far, and I figured her earnings would be especially useful now with Easter and the upcoming May holidays. I was also excited to finally see for myself her flower garden I’ve heard so much about. Did I mention that she grows all the flowers and dries them herself? Her house and yard were even more fantastic than I had imagined. She gave us a tour of her house, which really is more like a greenhouse at a botanical garden. Dozens of different kinds of plants in every room, each with a special trait and purpose. Every room also had stacks of books with bits of newspaper sticking out from between the pages - her drying method. She opened one book and casually flipped through probably twenty pages, each with one or two delicate petals carefully arranged and pressed. I can’t even imagine how many thousands - maybe millions? - of petals and leaves she has pressed and drying in her house! It was really amazing. It’s still too early for much to be blooming in her garden, a few tulips were up, but she pointed to different spots and described what would be coming up. I can’t wait to see that garden again in June or July! Selling Valentina’s pictures not only makes me happy that I can help her with some much needed (and well-earned) income, but I also look forward to seeing her and her garden when I deliver her money. After the short visit with Valentina, we enjoyed the drive through the countryside. It was a beautiful day, warm and sunny, and it was fun to drive with the sunroof open.

We arrived in Korosten in early evening, had a light meal, and then headed to the family banya. Igor’s father built a parnaya banya (steam bath) years ago, but it hadn’t been in working order for a couple of years so I never could try it before. I’ve heard many a banya story, and was always quite curious about them, but have never had the opportunity to try a real Russian banya before. I was also especially curious about the infamous tradition of beating yourself with birch branches. I just couldn’t even imagine what it was like. Igor loves saunas and banyas, with an insane passion even. I don’t enjoy the dry heat of a sauna so much, but I occassionally go to a sauna with him mostly because I enjoy being with Igor and I like seeing the pleasure that he gets from a good long bake. He was excited to introduce me to his beloved banya, and in retrospect admitted that he got kind of carried away and should have introduced me more slowly to the experience. It wasn’t traumatic, it was just surprising and temporarily unpleasant.

The banya house has a two rooms, plus a small corridor lined with windows. The first small room has hooks for hanging up your clothes, a couple stools, and the small metal door of the wood-burning stove. The next room has a shower head hanging from the ceiling and a bath, and the door to their small banya, which is kind of like a closet. It is long enough for two people to lay end to end, and just slightly wider than a person. A small metal door at one end opens to a small wood-burning fireplace, from which a long, wide metal tube extends the length of the banya and which is lined along its sides with fist-sized stones. You open the wooden door and step up high to get onto the a long wooden shelf which is fixed right above the metal tube. I crawled up and in, not really crazy about the smallness of the space. The wooden shelf on which you sit was really hot and I found it very uncomfortable to sit on. Igor gave me a two-by-four board to slip under my bum, but that didn’t help with my legs and other parts touching the shelf. I was trying to handle it gracefully, he had such a huge grin on his face and was so happy to be sharing his beloved banya with me!

He told me to stretch out my legs, and then he started gently whacking them with a fistful of long birch branches covered with leaves, called a venik. The leaves had been soaking in water, and the aroma was really pleasant. But the whacking was a bit weird, I have to say. It’s like an exfoliant, scraping away the layers of dead skin cells as well as dirt and grim. After a short venik session, Igor filled a dipper with water and splashed the stones lining the metal tube. Steam billowed up and it was HOT. I couldn’t get out of their fast enough. That was the part that later Igor admitted he should have warned me about. The steam lasts just 15-20 seconds and then dissipates, but it was so intense it freaked me out. There was no way he was getting me back in that thing, so we took one of the requisite breaks. We sat in the first room with the stools and drank a glass of beer.

After we’d cooled off a bit, Igor was ready to go in again, but I still wasn’t feeling good about it. He explained the whole ritual (it really is a ritualistic process in the banya), how it works, what to expect, etc. You steam, beat yourself with the venik, cool off under the cold shower, sit in the resting room and drink and snack, and start the cycle over again. It can go on for several hours, until “you’re done”. How do you know you’re done? Your skin is good and red, and turns white when you touch it. There’s no set time for everyone, each person is different.

Igor steamed a few more times, and I threw the water on the rocks for him. He closed the door tight and I could hear him whacking away with the venik. Eventually he got me to go in again, but we agreed no more steaming rocks for me. He gave my back a good workover with the venik. I finished up and went back to the house while he stayed another ten minutes or so. “How was it”, his mom asked me. “Interesting.” When Igor came back in the house, I started to say the traditional post-shower phrase “s lyokim parom”. Anya taught me that phrase when I first moved to Tvarditsa. I remembering asking what it meant and she said she didn’t really know, it was just what you said to some after they took a shower or bath. Kind of like a “hope you had a good bath”. Literally it means “with light steam” but expressed in the Russian way of congratulating someone on the occassion of an event - as in “I congratulate you with your birthday” or “I congratulate you with your light steam”. Sounds strange, I know, and I could never understand the phrase - that is until I said it to Igor after his good steam! Nothing like a little cultural context to put some meaning into a language.

Sunday was Easter, which meant the end of the Great Fast (Veliki Post’), or 40 days when strict observers do not eat meat or dairy products. Igor’s father keeps post’ strictly (it is also observed during advent before Christmas), and usually Igor observes it just the last week before Easter. This year he decided to observe it for about a month. I don’t know who was more anxious for it to end- me or him. I swear, all the man could talk about the last week was meat. I think he was even dreaming about meat. Since I’m a vegetarian, he didn’t find much sympathy from me in his suffering, but I sure was suffering from his endless talk about every possible variety of meat.

Ivan went to church in the middle of the night (2 or 3 am?) for the Easter mass, loaded up like everyone else with his basket of food to be blessed by the priest. The rest of us got up around 6:30 to have the first big feast of the day. We start with the hard-boiled eggs dyed red (boiled with onion skins to make the special deep red color). Each person holds one egg in his or her fist, and then you tap one end of your egg onto the end of your neighbor’s egg, to see which egg cracks. Then you flip them and do the other ends. It’s fun to see who has the strongest egg, who’s egg can crack the most other eggs. Then you peel and eat. Then you dive into the overflowing table. There were a couple veg dishes added to the usual meat-laden menu for me, and I was quite content. Of course Nina fussed and worried that I didn’t have “anything” to eat, which was quite far from the truth. I did just fine, and I was happy to not over-indulge as often happens at these celebrations.

We sat around eating and drinking and talking for a couple of hours, then everyone retired back to their beds to sleep off the hard work of the morning. Around noon, Igor and I went with his father to the cemetery to make the traditional offering at the graves of departed relatives. Then we went to their village house to check on and feed the animals. Ivan bought a sheep last winter, which gave birth to a lamb the day before our wedding in December. He’s growing up fast, and both Igor and his father were speculating when he’ll be ready for shashliki (i.e., barbeque). It was a beautiful day, and Igor and I strolled around the field while he dad tended to the sheep and rabbits, enjoying the fresh air and quiet village sounds.

Back home, after another resting period, we headed next door to Oksana’s house for Denis’ birthday celebration. Turning 16 is an important event - you get your own passport, which is akin to becoming a legal adult in many ways. You are no longer just a note in your parents’ passports. Denis is a typical moody teenager, and the celebration was obviously more fun for his parents and grandparents, but he suffered through for a respectable amount of time and then was released to go hang out with his friends. We continued the party without him.

After a couple hours Igor and I were both ready to get as far away from food as possible. We decided to go for a walk in the beautiful park in the center of town. It was a sunny, warm day and it seemed like most of Korosten had the same idea as us. I still sometimes find myself scandalized to see people drinking alcohol openly the street, especially bottles of vodka at 8 in the morning (open containers are legal in Ukraine). Every once in a while though, I get a kind of guilty pleasure out of walking through the park with a beer. This was one of those days when I wanted to indulge, so Igor bought me a bottle and I sipped at it as we strolled.

The evening was quiet at home, everyone was satiated and relaxed. Monday we lounged in bed late reading our books. We started back to Kyiv around 1, driving through a light drizzle most of the way. I had a workout scheduled at 6 with Elena, and boy was it a tough one. I’m glad I planned it that way, though - it kept me motivated throughout Monday to take it easy with the food!

All in all, a very nice weekend. And Nina sent us home with enough leftovers for an army!

Having recently gone through the US visa application process with my Ukrainian husband, I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gleeful revenge when I read this article about the “new” visa application procedures Ukraine is introducing for foreign tourists. I’d love to see some of those State Department folks go through the humiliating (and expensive) hoops of fire that our embassies call “visa application process.”

After his interview with the embassy official, during which their goal seemed to be to trap even the likes of Mother Theresa in lies, Igor rather meekly said to me, “You know, after this experience, I really don’t want to go to your country.” And his interview was rather mild compared to the many horror stories I’ve heard.

I myself was left disillusioned and disappointed with my country, too. The What’s On article captures beautifully the standard practice of many embassies in Ukraine. Would we accept similar treatment of our own citizens?

As of 1 April, when the new law comes into effect, all foreigners wishing to visit Ukraine will have to undergo a complicated and extensive visa application process. The process of applying for a visa for Ukraine will have to be commenced a minimum of six weeks before travel… By the new law, it is also compulsory that the interview itself is as humiliating and degrading as is humanly possible, and that all applicants are treated with the utmost suspicion… It is necessary they prove (a romantic) relationship is ‘real’ and they will not be a flight risk… Applicants will also have to prove their earnings in their home country to further ensure they will return once their visa has expired… The visa fee will be $500 to start with, and this will be paid along with the initial application and will not be refundable should the application be denied, which is highly likely as, according to the law, at least 50% of applications have to be rejected.

And all this is only for visitor visas. Obtaining a work permit for Ukraine is already a difficult task that requires that all foreigners can only take a job here if no Ukrainian can perform the task to the same standard. Under the new law, this criteria is going to be much more strictly enforced, and the candidate will have to prove their suitability by providing diplomas, a CV, and by sitting a series of oral and written exams on the subject. Obtaining a work permit in no way guarantees a work visa to go with it, and the system of applying for such a visa will be even more rigorous than that of a visitor visa.

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In another, non-April Fool’s Day, conundrum - how do I file my US taxes when my spouse doesn’t have a U.S. social security number? The most I can find on the IRS website is that my spouse should apply for one. Frankly, since we do not live in the US and neither of us earns money from a U.S. organization, I really don’t see the reason for him to get a SSN. Any ideas or suggestions, anybody?

Kruglik was the first youth center I visited, in February 2006, just a couple months after starting with Chornobyl Recovery and Development Programme. Coincidentally, Kruglik was the first youth center established under CRDP, in 2004.

As we toured the small one-floor building, I admired the plants lining the windowsills. I really enjoy houseplants, and in my house in Columbus I had a pretty decent jungle taking over my sunroom. One of the first things I noticed, and really liked a lot, in Moldova, and later in Ukraine as well, is that there are plants in nearly every office and store. They can range from the “fancy” potted plants you usually expect a business to purchase for its reception area, to simpler ones, obviously planted and tended by the staff, in clay or plastic pots (sometimes even in makeshift “pots” made from the bottom half of a one- or two-liter plastic bottle). I’ve seen most of the typical office plants - peace lillies, african violets, ficus trees - as well as ones I never would have imagined indoors - all kinds of vines (some that I would have thought of as weeds, actually), sapling oak trees, and plenty of other “wild” looking plants. I love that plants are so integrated into the indoors here.

In the Kruglik youth center, there was one interesting plant that I’d never seen before, and as I was admiring it, the ladies asked if I’d like a cutting to take back to Kyiv with me. I wasn’t sure it would survive the hour drive in what was one of the coldest winters on record, but I figured why not?

When I got home, I put the small cutting in a jar of water. Something like this:

A little over two years later, I now have two big pots brimming with the beautiful bushy guys.

And another pair of cuttings growing roots in the jar of water.

I’ve been to Kruglik probably three or four times since that first trip two years ago. I always admire the mother plant to my cuttings, and I always give an update on the progress of her offspring. The last time I was in Kruglik, in November 2007, I was startled to see beautiful little flowers all over the mother plant. I had no idea it flowered! I started to worry that mine had never flowered, but the ladies assured me it eventually would. It just takes some time for it to take root and be ready.

I have felt like that plant many times over the last few years - cut off, uprooted, replanted, not quite comfortable, slow to settle in, not ready to commit myself and bloom in this spot.

I know moving to Kyiv caused many of the same feelings in Igor. He had a good job in Korosten, he loved working with the Regional Development Agency, he was a well-known and well-connected man in town. He gave up a lot so that we could live together. He jumped in with both feet at his new job, though, and he was so busy with work that he didn’t have time to go back to Korosten for nearly two months. After his first trip home, I asked him how he felt, if he didn’t regret moving to Kyiv. “No,” he said. “But I don’t feel at home anywhere right now. Korosten is not my home anymore, but Kyiv is not my home either.” I knew exactly how he felt.

A few months later, when he was in Korosten without me for a weekend, I called him in the evening.
“I’m ready to go home,” he said
“What? You want to move back to Korosten,” I wasn’t sure I had understood.
“No, to Kyiv, to you. My home is where you are.”

During Igor’s visa interview at the American Embassy, the foreign service officer asked him why we had not applied for immigrant status for him. “Because we don’t want to live in the US,” he answered. “We want to live in Ukraine.”

As he told me about this exchange, after the interview, a realization came ove me. I am ready to make a home with Igor. I want to settle in and take root.

Believe it or not, the next day I saw the first flower on my plant.

OK, it’s a tiny one, not very strong yet, but it’s there. My plant has taken root, too.