MoldovAnn

I’m in Moscow – first time in over 14 years! Wow, the city is amazing. Soooo different from what I remember. I thought Kyiv had changed in the 13 years since my first and second visits there, but it doesn’t compare to the change in Moscow.

I went to Red Square last night – so beautiful. I had forgotten how powerful and dramatic it is. I also walked along Old and New Arbat streets. Didn’t recognize either in the least. There is a huge book store on New Arbat that I _think_ I recognized, but it sure didn’t look like the grey drab place I frequented in 1992. If it’s the same store, I thought there was a huge post office across the street, but that is now a giant shopping mall. I’ll have to ask someone if there used to a PO around there, maybe I just didn’t get to quite the right spot.

In 1992, we couldn’t make direct-dial international phone calls from anywhere in St. Petersburg (where I was studying). Instead, we had to go to the post office and order a phone call, then sit down and wait until your number was called over the PA system. Only the announcements sounded just like the Peanuts teacher, only incomprehensible Russian garble instead of incomprehensible English garble. I missed more than one call opportunity because I couldn’t understand when my turn was called. And it wasn’t just my bad Russian – I often asked a local to help me and more often than not, they also couldn’t understand a thing from that PA system. I did meet some nice people that way though, waiting for my phone calls.

Anyway, in 1992 the only city from which direct-dial international calls could be made was Moscow, and when I would be in town I would often go to that giant post office that was somewhere near a giant Dom Knigi (House of Books), wait for an open phone booth, and happily dial away. I remember the first time I called from that post office. For some reason, it wasn’t an automatic two-way connection. I could hear my parents but no matter what I tried to do, I couldn’t figure out how to make them hear me. They guessed it was me calling from Russia and they talked for a few minutes to me; it was so nice to hear their voices but soooo frustrating to not be able to speak to them. It was only later that I somehow figured out that I had to push a button when my parents answered the phone so that they could hear me. It was absolutely incomprehensible to me why someone would make a call and then have to push a button so the other party could hear them – why would you make a phone call and not want them to hear you? I think maybe the prices were different or something if it was a “one-way” call, I don’t remember. Just another one of those little things that is huge when you are clueless.

I’ve got two packed days of meetings, but hope to squeeze in some social calls, too. I learned not too long ago that the daughter of my dear friend Alyona (from Moldova) is living in Moscow, with her Russian husband! I hope to see her tonight and get caught up on a lot of news that I seem to have missed.

I wish my wonderful husband was here with me. I love to travel with him, love to listen to his history lessons. As excited as I am to be back in Russia, I’m also looking forward to going home to Kyiv, to my Igor and our new apartment. Speaking of which, we finally finished the move last weekend. Good grief – all I could think was that I came to this country three years ago with two suitcases, and now we had SEVEN carloads of stuff to move. Even scarier is that we seem to have filled up an apartment more than double the size of the one we just moved out of. How the hell did all of that fit in our two-room apartment?!

The cat handled the move relatively well. She hid most of Saturday, and then Sunday followed me around all day, meowing in a way that made me think she was crying “I want to go home!” Sunday night she seemed more settled in, doing her evening exercises of sprints around the apartment. She also seems to enjoy the vast array of hiding places; Igor couldn’t find her at all this afternoon, and she appeared only when he opened the refrigerator door. What’s really funny is that he said she turned right in the hallway as if to go into the old kitchen, instead of turning left into the new one. I guess animals also develop their own habitual patterns!

Off to meetings.

I’m in Crimea this week, visiting partners and promoting EducationUSA. It’s warmer here than in Kyiv- won’t need the long johns that I packed, yeah! I’m in Sevastopol today, a navy port still home mostly to Russian sailors. I always find it strange in Crimea to be surrounded by Russian. Yes, I hear Russian on the streets in Kyiv more than Ukrainain, but all the signs are in Ukrainian there, whereas all the ads, street signs, and pretty much everything else is all in Russian in Crimea. In Sevastopol they even manage to get around the national law requiring all movies to be dubbed into Ukrainian, and instead show movies in Russian (”no one would go if they were in Ukrainian” was the response I got today when I asked about it).

Walking around the town this evening, obliviously speaking English with 2 colleagues, I realized we were being followed by a drunken man complaining extensively about us. He seemed to know exactly 2 English words - “America no!”. He bitched that we should be speaking Russian, to which I very much wanted to respond, in Ukrainian, that in fact we ought to be speaking Ukrainian! Oh my, how my wonderful husband has turned me into a Ukrainian nationalist! The drunk eventually seemed to get bored of failing to get a rise out of us, and went on his way. It made me sad, though, especially after a few weeks of being so proud and excited about America right now. I know I shouldn’t pay attention to the ramblings of an old drunk man, but still, it’s hard to not want to respond, or to try to talk him about why he feels as he does.

The hotel has BBC and CNN, and I thought it would be fun to indulge in English-language TV. Wow, if this is indicative of what is usually on, I sure ain’t missing much. Booorrrinnng! I can’t believe how long they just discussed the new Guns ‘n Roses album. Is there really nothing else going on in the world?

We wanted to take advantage of a few days off between jobs, and so drove to the Carpathian mountains for a long weekend last week. We took off later on Thursday than desirable (I got stuck in the office *argh*), and made it to Ternopil, about 350 kilometers from Kyiv. It was nice to have Michael with us, especially since he could share the driving with me. But neither of us felt comfortable on the dark, twisty roads, so we stopped for the night, planning for an early start on Friday morning for the remaining 200ish kilometers to Kosiv.

We did start out early, but bad roads and several wrong turns meant we didn’t make it to Kosiv until well after lunchtime. We were tired, hungry, and most of all sick of being in the car. We grabbed lunch at a koliba, a kind of rustic restaurant typical in the Carpathians. Michael had his first taste of the popular food of the region - banosh (a cornmeal dish kind of like polenta), brinza (sheep’s cheese), and the famous Carpathian mountain white mushrooms. Yum!

We then met up with Igor’s grad school friend Sveta for a hike up a hill on the edge of Kosiv. The weather was perfect, not too hot, not too cold; the hike was steep, and we were all huffing and puffing. But man did it feel good to be out in the fresh air, surrounded by quiet, and the wonderful aroma of autumn. We saw some ladies with baskets searching for those marvelous white mushrooms. We saw houses dotting the landscape in meadows and little valleys. We saw a man leading a horse up a steep mud trail, the horse struggling to pull up a huge felled tree. At the top of the path, we saw two other giant logs the horse had already lugged up; poor thing, it didn’t look easy.

At the top of the hill, panting but exhilarated, we took in the gorgeous view all around - brilliant waves of color on the surrounding mountains. This was what we had been hoping for, the beautiful autumn leaves. Michael set up his photo equipment and set to work, and Igor, Sveta and I meandered slowly back down the hill.

Dinner that night was at the fabulous trout restaurant where we ate during our visit last summer. The owners had lived in Italy for a few years and learned the art of trout farming. Their home/restaurant is tucked away, at the end of a dirt road, back between lots of other houses and completely invisible from the main road and seemingly un-distinguishable from the neighbors, until you pass through the gate and find the lovely trout pond surrounded by little gazebos and cabins. Sveta had called in advance for us, so our meals had already been plucked from the pond and well on their way in the dinner preparation process. Usually the owner lets you select your own trout from the pond. The dinner was, of course, phenomenal. We ordered a bottle of wine, only to realize a few minutes later that the owner was going to drive to the store to buy one for us, thinking we didn’t want the house wine. We didn’t know there was a house wine, and were pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t sickeningly sweet (as much Ukrainian wine is). We happily saved him a trip and enjoyed the housewine. There are no menus at this restaurant, as their daily special consists of a set meal - a big plate of cabbage salad (kind of like coleslaw), homemade white bread, and one fish per person, swimming in sour cream, with a side of banosh (the polenta-like cornmeal dish). My mouth is watering just thinking about it.

We settled down for the night in Sveta’s partially-renovated house high up on a hillside. Last year, there were just bare walls and work had just started. This year, the first and second floors are nearly complete, sans furniture, and the basement with sauna, showers, and rec room is under way. Igor and I slept upstairs, under the slanted roof with big skylights. I woke up in the middle of the night and stood in awe under the window - the bright moon illuminating the crystal clear night sky, surrounded by a billion pinpoints of light. I simply cannot describe the awesome beauty.

Saturday morning, Sveta, Michael and I were up early to hit the market. I have heard about the Kosiv market for several years now and have been burning to explore it myself. I was well-prepared, with a frightening amount of money in my purse and a strong will to make a nice contribution to the local economy.

Kosiv is the home to a famous Ukrainian artisan institute, where young people study the traditional arts and crafts, becoming modern masters of embroidery, weaving, woodworking, pysanky, and other beautiful handicrafts. I had high hopes to buy a carpet, but didn’t find one that I absolutely loved. I did find a beautiful traditional Ukrainian embroidered blouse, which I am proud to finally have in my wardrobe. I bought some patterns, as well, to try my hand at later, as well as a small painting. I could have happily spent the entire day wandering the market, admiring the thick wool blankets, the delicate woodworkings, and all the other lovely things, but alas, the rest of the group had to be appeased, as well. They seemed to have the crazy notion that shopping was not the single purpose of our trip.

After a quick lunch, Michael took the wheel and had the pleasure of being a passenger for a leisurely drive through the twisty mountain roads. The views were breathtaking every where, the mountains covered in brilliant carpets of bright colors - yellow, gold, red, orange, and still some greens. We stopped a couple times for Michael to take some photos.

There was severe flooding throughout the Carpathians this past summer, and we saw the massive construction efforts under way everywhere as part of the recovery. Sveta told us that 150 bridges had been destroyed in one day. There were still several treacherous spots along the narrow roads, but mostly we were quite impressed with progress made in just a couple of months. Temporary bridges were up everywhere, and new, sounder bridges were well along in the construction process.

We arrived at the highest peak in the Ukrainian Carpathians, Horvela. We had hiked nearly to the top last year, and Igor was anxious to show Michael the wonderful view. I opted to wait below while the three of them hiked up, again nearly to the apex but not venturing the last 150 steep, rocky meters. One of these days we’ll do it.

We marveled at the sunset as we drove back to Kosiv, and stopped after dark at a great little koliba for dinner - again, banosh, white mushrooms, and this time shashliki for the carnivores. Once back at Sveta’s, we were exhausted yet absolutely satisfied. Sad only that we didn’t have another couple of days to relax in the mountains.

Sunday morning was another early start. We planned a different route home, passing through Khotyn and Kamianets-Podolsky with plans to stop and see the fortresses. While still within the mountains, though, two churches caught our attention and we stopped. On one side of the street, a tall, bare, stone abandoned church, Catholic maybe; on the other side of the street, a lively, colorful wooden church with tin roof, ornamented and detailed, receiving the villagers for Sunday mass. We walked around the abandoned church first, peaking through the crack in the wooden front door. Igor picked at the stone and brick facade and declared it 17th century. The inside was stripped bare, cold and dark with thin streams of light cascading down through cracks and holes.

The other church couldn’t have been more opposite - within a low fence, the surrounding grass was still bright green, the bushes and flowers full and colorful. The pathway clean and well-maintained. We noticed the woman, all in skirts with covered heads, entering through the front door, while most of the men walked around to the right side to an entrance we couldn’t see. Igor later commented that he has heard of some mountain congregations that have separate areas for men and women, but we were confused that a few of the men entered the same door we went in through, where all the women entered. We also saw another side door which 3 women were standing just outside of, their heads leaning in through the open doorway. “Do you know why they are standing there?” Igor asked me. I hazarded a guess, “That time of the month?” Yep. Menstruating women aren’t supposed to enter the church, and apparently these ladies still wanted to participate as much as was allowable. I’ll never understand believing in a church (or any other organization or person) that thinks you are lessor, for any reason, but especially for a completely natural and normal process. It just boggles my mind.

I covered my head with my scarf, feeling self-conscious in my grungy jeans and tennis shoes. We would have clearly stood out as strangers even if dressed appropriately, in such a small village where everyone knows each other. We were greeted with curious stares and, much to my relief, warm smiles. I couldn’t help notice the din of whispers as the congregation became aware of our presence in the back of the church. One woman smiled and motioned forward with her hand, encouraging us to move in further.

The very back of the church, where we had entered, had a low ceiling, which blocked the view into the small but tall main chamber of the church. At first glance, it looked like most any other Orthodox church, with the iconstasis, icons, candles, etc. My first shock though was to see benches - not just a couple along the side walls for the extreme elderly or disabled, but ROWS of benches, from the back to the front of the church. I have never seen benches, or any other instrument for sitting, in an Orthodox church in Ukraine or Russia. They just don’t do that.

The second shock, more amusing, came into view as I walked along the center aisle and more of the main hall came into view. There was a bright neon icon, with flashing lights all around it. It was one of the gaudiest things I’ve ever seen! And seemed so absurd in the church. I had a good chuckle just looking at it.

We continued our trip, which went much slower than we had expected (what else is new? We should know by now that ever road trip in Ukraine takes twice as long as we anticipate). We made it to Khotyn by about noon, and decided to stop for about 30 minutes to see the famous fortress. The setting is really beautiful, as you walk from the parking lot, crest the hill, and look out across the fortress with the Dneister river flowing by. There was a lot of work being done on the fortress, and Igor commented that we should come back in 3 years. We still managed to explore the area for over an hour, and really enjoyed the site. But we sacrificed the stop at Kamianets-Podolsky, even though Igor said it’s in better condition. We were hours behind in our travel schedule, and not looking forward to the long long drive still ahead.

We made it to about 30 kilometers outside Kyiv before the hellish traffic jams started, about 7:00 pm. Three hours later, we finally dragged ourselves up the stairs to our apartment, exhausted. It was a hard trip, definitely too short, but I’m so glad we did it. An autumn visit to the mountains will most certainly become an annual trip for us.

It’s been raining for over a week in Kyiv. I hear it actually didn’t rain on Saturday, but we went to Korosten for a birthday party and it rained there. Two things I have learned in the past week: my favorite pair of ankle boots have been repaired one too many times and are no longer water-proof (found out the hard way in, guess what?, the rain); and the sunroof in the car leaks. Found that out the hard way, too, when the roof basically piddled on my head.

We went just for the day to Korosten on Saturday, and as we pulled onto the highway after a few hours of eating and (for Igor only) drinking, a red light on the instrument panel lit up. It’s one of those “universal” symbols that makes absolutely no sense, a circle with lines around the edges, kind of looks like a sun. A sun? Maybe my car uses solar energy and after 6 sunless day it’s power is all drained out? That was my best guess. So we pulled over and dug out the BMW manual from the glove compartment. Presumably this car was originally purchased in Germany, and as such the manual is only in German. We found the page with the picture of the instrument panel, each indicator light numbered, with a numbered list to the side with a description of each item. Sometimes words are close enough that I can guess what they mean, but no luck this time. My tongue knotted up trying to pronounce “Bremsbelag-Verschleissanzeige (rot)”. We both started laughing hysterically, and decided to see how far we could get until the car either died or exploded. The light blinked sporadically throughout the drive to Kyiv, which I figured either meant the problem wasn’t so serious yet as to warrant a full-time indication, or else the light is attached to the shoddy electrical system and ought to be on full-time but the connection is bad.

We did make it home, safe and sound. A little search on the internet came up with the words “brake” and “wear-indicator” (or “cobblestone”, go figure). So, the car is parked until I have time to take it to the garage. Having just paid a small chunk of change to have the motor repaired (yes, we have windshield wipers again!), it’s looking like monthly repairs are becoming the norm. It might be about time to send our dear Mashonka to pasture. She’s been good to us!

Our friend Michael returns to Ukraine today for his turn with a Fulbright. The last time he was here with his wife, who was on her own Fulbright grant at that time. He’ll stay with us for a bit while he looks for an apartment, then wife and baby will join him once he’s settled in. Some other friends should be returning to Ukraine next month after more than a year’s absence- how cool that much of the old gang will be here again!

Igor’s parents gave me a beautiful pair of gold earrings for my birthday, what are commonly called “gypsy” earrings here. They belonged to Igor’s paternal great-grandmother, who left them to her sister when she died. One winter many many year’s ago, that sister (Igor’s great-aunt) lost one of the earrings in the snow by her house. She thought it was gone forever, but couldn’t bring herself to throw away the one remaining earring. Lo and behold, after the snow melted in the spring, she just happened to look down one day and there was the missing earring, shining up at her out of the mud! Igor’s father told me they bring good luck, and he always comments when I wear them. I love the look on his face when he sees me with them, the memories these earrings bring back to him - he was mostly raised by his grandmother, and loved her very, very dearly. His eyes light up, and a big smile brightens his face, and he starts to tell me stories about his grandmother. And he always ends his reminiscences by telling me the earrings bring good luck and I should wear them all the time.

I don’t know if it’s coincidence or not, but some very good things are happening. Igor was hired to teach history at a kind of community college. Although it’s not his dream job, I know he’s a wonderful and natural teacher, and he’s enjoying being in a classroom again. I like being married to a professor. There’s other good stuff, but I’ll write about it later.

The heat wave is officially over - and it’s freaking cold! The cat suddenly is interested in my company now that she’s cold - normally she tolerates us only because of our ability to open the refrigerator and spoon canned food into her bowl. But when she’s cold she becomes the nicest of lap cats.

Igor went to Korosten yesterday, and I’ll join him today. The car is in the shop because the motor burned out, leaving us without windshield wipers. It came as no surprise that they couldn’t find a new or used motor for our 1984 BMW, so they’re trying to repair our motor. Hopefully it won’t cost an arm and a leg, since the car itself is barely worth an arm, or a leg for that matter.

So I’ll be taking the bus to Korosten, something I haven’t done in quite a while. And for once I’m not too upset about that, maybe even a little bit glad ’cause it means I can work on my embroidery while someone else does the driving! I’m about half way done with my first cross-stitch. It’s got quite a few mistakes in it, but I’m plugging along. One important thing I learned is to not try to do it at 1:00 in the morning when I’m exhausted but can’t sleep - I ended up redoing the same little area about 5 times before I finally got it right. I couldn’t resist buying my next pattern yesterday. It’s got six colors (up from three with my first pattern), and involves two types of stitches, so it will be a challenge for me. But it’s relatively small, so I think it won’t be overwhelming. I looked again at the traditional Ukrainian patterns, for the ceremonial towels and shirts and things, but they are still way too intimidating. It’s fun to have something to work towards, though.

Speaking of goals - I went to Buffalo Expatriate’s farewell get-together last night (she’s moving back to the States). She’s been working with the International Organization for Migration, and doing research on trafficking and related issues. There was such an awesome, interesting diverse group of people at the bar. We went around the table introducing ourselves, with most people saying the usual “My name is…, I work/study at…”. One young Nigerian man introduced himself and said “I am going to the be president of Nigeria some day.” Talk about having goals!

But back to this weekend. Igor’s godson turned one this past week, and today is his birthday party. What do you wear to a first birthday party? I don’t think that this will be like an American baby’s birthday party, with lots of other kids crawling around and parents swapping parenting stories. I suspect this will be like most other Ukrainian celebrations - adult family and friends squeezed around a table overflowing with food, which will keep coming until long after you can’t eat another bite, and plenty of drinking and toasting. This would be the down-side of not having the car this weekend, as it’s always a great excuse for me to pass on the vodka shots when I’m “behind the wheel”. Maybe I’ll use the “I’m taking some medicine right now” excuse; that one usually works pretty well, too.

I guess it’s time to get myself together and head out to the bus station. Can’t wait to get to work on my cross-stitch!

Last month, the U.S. Embassy in Ukraine sent out a great compilation of articles that any traveler would be wise to read and consider. I’ve also added the link the to my Travel Recommendations page.

Scott’s at a techie-geek conference (or in his words “big European consumer electronics show”) in Berlin this week, writing articles for the website CrunchGear.com. He stopped first in the Netherlands for a tour of the Phillips Research Labs, which is first articles are about. Very cool!

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.

10 days, 2780 kilometers, 2 countries + 1 break-away “republic”, 3 liters of wine in one day, one not-so-small lamb, uncountable number of insane drivers (so many, in fact, that my father no only stopped asking to drive the car but nearly refused when I was ready to hand over the keys), one sunburned arm and one slightly tanned armed, one fabulous husband, a trunk full of Moldovan contraband - and we’re finally home.

The trip had its ups and downs, times to remember forever and moments I can’t forget fast enough. More details tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep.

We’re in Crimea. It’s hot, but we’re having a good time. Lots of fresh peaches, grapes, watermelon, honeydews - absolutely delicous! We’ll stay here another day or two then head to Moldova to visit my host family in Tvarditsa.

On the drive back to Kyiv from Sofiyivka, we stopped on the side of the road to buy tomatoes from some babushki. At 6 hrivna per kilogram (compared to 20/kg in Kyiv), I was ready to buy everything they had. We settled with 5 kilos, plus a few ears of corn, and had an absolutely delicious but simple dinner of sliced tomatoes and corn once we got home. After eating our fill, I made a huge pot of tomato sauce. Yum yum.

A few weeks ago when we were visiting a village with Dad, he asked a question that I must admit has crossed my mind more than once. Seeing the utter lack of amenities in your average Ukrainian village - no running water, no gas heat, growing most of your own fruit and vegetables and raising your own livestock - Dad was a bit dumbstruck by how much work goes into just simple every day tasks like cooking and washing dishes. He said “It really makes you wonder why people accepted this, why they didn’t demand better.” My response was “If you’ve never known different, it doesn’t seem so hard to you.”

Sunday evening, eating our oh-so-delicious tomatoes, I had a similar thought - How come Americans don’t demand tastier, un-chemicalized food? I guess they don’t know different any more. I love this time of year in Ukraine - it’s the best time to be a vegetarian here! Piles and piles of beautiful, delicious fruits and vegetables. I made a variant of eggplant parmigiana (with squash from the Igor’s parents’ garden and tvorog instead of eggplant and ricotta) with my homemade tomato sauce. Soooo delicious. It’s fun to go to the market now, every few days something else has ripened and appeared at the stands - we had green beans last weekend, and tomatoes, and corn. Someone brought a bag of plums to the office one day. And next week in Crimea I will devour as many grapes as I can get my hands on!

If I ever live in the US again, I am so going to have a garden so I can continue having beautiful, delicious and natural veggies.

We indulged some other food fantasies last weekend, after a trek around Kyiv tracking down the 2 Asian kiosks we know. One we found easily, it’s still at Volodymyrsky market, but the other had moved from Berezniki to Livoberezhny market. Dinner that night included spicy tofu, stir-fry vegetables, and green beans with garlic. Yummmm.

Last night I learned that there is a Middle Eastern shop nearby, disguised by the name “Pizza Express.” They reportedly sell tahini, falafal, baklava, and all others sorts of fabulous Middle Eastern fare. How did I not know this?! I am so going there today.

Last Sunday we drove 200 km south of Kyiv to the town of Uman, more specifically to the park Sofiyivka. It tied for first place (with Kyiv Pechersk Lavra) on the list of the Seven Wonders of Ukraine. I’ve wanted to go for a long time, so I was excited to finally see the place. The park is really lovely - clean, well maintained, and fortunately not too many people on the day of our visit. Lots of wedding parties though! We spent about 4 hours wandering the shady lanes, climbing on outcrops of rocks, and generally enjoying the nice weather, fresh air, and lovely surroundings. I bet it’s downright gorgeous in the spring when everything blooms.

The park is often referred to as the Versailles of Ukraine. I’m not sure why exactly, maybe because it’s such a big park territory. But whereas Versailles is all manicured and exactly planned and designed, Sofiyivka has a more natural landscaping to it. The trees are tall and lush, huge stone boulders crop up in several areas, and even the artificial lakes have a natural style to them. It makes for a very nice day trip.

3 1/2 days in the field, nearly 12 hours of driving on just one of the days. Although I wasn’t the driver, I’m still beat. It was a good mission, it’s always reinvigorating to meet with people we are trying to help. It’s also nice to get out of Kyiv, breath the fresh village air. I enjoy the village “traffic” jams much more than Kyiv traffic jams - being stuck in a herd of slow moving cows is much more fun than crazy drivers. But the roads in norther Rivne oblast are a nightmare- cobblestone roads for hundreds of kilometers.

Dad tagged along with us, for a change of view and to see a part of Ukraine he’s never been to before. He made friends with many of the village drunks and a few of the less shy kids while we had our meetings. The only word he seems to come up with to describe the trip is “interesting”, which I think means they weren’t the best 3 days of his life but not a total loss.

The storks were amazing - we saw literally hundreds of storks, in their nests, in the fields, flying overhead. The babies are nearly adult-size now but still apparently not entirely confident flyers. One lady told us about watching some young storks try to take their first gawky flight, which sounded hilarious. We also saw some dead storks along the road. I’m not sure how they managed to become roadkill, but I’m guessing they were young and hadn’t quite figured things out.

It’s good to be home. I missed my hubby. He’s off tomorrow to Korosten for some business, so this week we’re just passing each other on the road.

And we’ve got company this weekend, some friends from Tvarditsa who now live near Moscow will stop in Kyiv for the weekend on their way to Moldova for the annual trip home. Dad’s looking forward to being tour guide for them - I knew there was a reason we invited him for the summer!

of Pigs… In…. Spaaaaacccceee!
Don’t know why that is stuck in my head today, but it is. I’d love to watch some Muppets right now.

Talked to the landlady again today to ask if we could stay until the end of September. It would just be so much easier if we could deal with all this a bit later. Igor and I both have business trips in August, Dad’s here until early September… She has this nasty habit of telling me what I should do, what I can do, and wanting to debate with me our decisions. During our last conversation, when I told her we couldn’t afford what she wants for the apartment, she said “Oh come on, I know you get $X for housing from UN.” I curtly told her she was misinformed, that in fact my housing allowance is half of what she quoted. She then told me that I should tell “them” to pay me more. If only it were so simple! But either way, it’s none of her business how much my living allowance is and how much I chose to spend on an apartment, but I didn’t manage to express that to her last time.

Well, this time I was better prepared to not get sucked into a discussion of my personal matters. I did say that with Dad visiting us until early September, it would be really helpful if we could stay until the end of September, and deal with moving after he is gone. She started in with her questions, and I promptly cut her off with “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to discuss our various reasons with you. It’s our personal business. Our question to you is whether or not we can stay until the end of September.” She was a bit surprised, but fortunately didn’t seem offended by my rebuke. She said her idea had been to get two students to rent the apartment starting in September, so she’s not sure. Then she asked if we had made a final decision to move out, don’t we want to stay there? It’s expensive to move, etc etc etc. I told her we would happily stay there but the bottom line is we cannot afford the price we wants. Much to my surprise, she said she could take it down $100, just for us because she’s used to us, we’ve never caused any problems, etc. But she couldn’t resist going into her usual pity party about how it’s hard for them as pensioners, they don’t have any other income, her husband had to go back to work, etc. I would feel sorry for her, if I hadn’t been to her apartment myself a few months ago and seen the brand new wide-screen digital TV, and if she hadn’t herself told me about how they got a new computer and wireless internet. I don’t think they are as hard-off as she likes to pretend.

In the end, we agreed to discuss it at the end of this month when she comes to collect for the utilities. It’s tempting to not move, we love the apartment and the neighborhood. Another two hundred dollars a month in rent will be tough, though.

————–

In other events, we had a nice weekend in Korosten with Igor’s family. Everybody loved the presents Dad brought them - overalls for Grandpa; shirts, jackets and jeans for Nina, Ivan, Oksana and Denis; and 3 bottles of barbecue sauce for Vova. He was practically drinking it straight from the bottle! And he nearly finished an entire bottle just at one meal. Good thing Dad brought a BBQ sauce recipe too!

Dad, Igor and I spent the night in the village house with Ivan on Saturday night. He’s done so much work there in the last couple of years, it’s really amazing. And in preparation for Dad’s visit, he had promised to make a summer shower. Usually a summer shower (at last in my experience) means the water is heated by the sun. Well, Ivan being the handy-man that he is, managed to hook up an electric water heater, so year-round hot water! You might not want to use it in the winter, though, since it’s more-or-less an outdoor shower (a little shed next to the house). We saw all the animals - 4 sheep, 2 pigs, 1 goat, a bunch of rabbits, and about 7 or 8 turkeys. He’s becoming quite the farmer! Sunday I picked fresh vegetables from the garden while Igor and Dad grilled a rabbit and Nina made ukha, a traditional fish soup that fisherman usually make after a successful catch. the guys only managed to catch 3 dinky little fish that morning in the nearby river, so Nina supplemented with a quick run to the fish market.

We had a leisurely lunch sitting in the yard, enjoying the lovely weather and good company. The drive that evening back to Kyiv was perfect - hardly any traffic at all. Dad opted to come back with us instead of staying in the village with Ivan. I’m not surprised, 2 days is usually my limit, too, and I can understand what everyone is saying! We’ll be back there several times in the coming weeks, so plenty of time to get more village-life experience.

Oh, and the muffler on the car finally crapped out. It’s been coming on for a while, we could tell, and last week’s trip to Andrei and Natasha’s dacha for the wedding party was the last straw, I think. The roads to get there were just awful, and the undercarriage of the car got banged hard a couple of times (it’s really low to the ground - not a good car for Ukrainian village roads!). We tried to find a working mechanic in Korosten on the weekend, but no such luck. A friend of Igor’s looked at it, though, and the good news is that it’s nothing dangerous or horrible. The bad news is it’s damn loud and a bit embarrassing driving down the street. We got back to Kyiv a bit deaf but otherwise in good shape. One more project for this week…

The old man arrived in Kyiv a couple hours ago - with two beautiful bottles of Jameson’s for me! He’s with us for the next six weeks. Well, partly with us in Kyiv and partly with Igor’s parents in the village and probably with us on some trips if we can get them organized.

We’re looking forward to checking out some different sites in Kyiv - it’s always good motivation to do some sight seeing when we have company. Dad’s seen pretty much all the highlights, so we’ll dig deeper into some of the less known places, I hope.

The past week is a blur. I remember the major outline, but the details are lost. We landed in Kyiv Monday morning and I was in the office by lunchtime. I finally stumbled home about 9pm, after several meetings to confirm plans for the regional workshop we were hosting in Kyiv, with about 40 people attending from all over Eastern Europe and the CIS, 1-3 July. I changed our vacation plans to be in Kyiv for this workshop, and although I really hate that we missed 4th of July in Columbus, it was important to be here for this event, even if I wasn’t anywhere near my best for most of it.

Tuesday morning Igor and I were both wide awake at 4:00 am, and finally decided to get up and go to the grocery store around 4:30. First time we’ve never had to wait in line there! I was at the workshop early, and had a long spacey day. Despite being exhausted all day, I suddenly was wide awake once I got home and couldn’t sleep hardly all night. Wednesday was similar, but I really wanted to visit with my UNV colleagues so I pushed through a long evening and had some friends over for dinner. The workshop wrapped up on Thursday, and we had a nice reception in the evening for everyone. I regretted leaving early, but I was near dead from exhaustion.

Friday we had an important meeting with the Ministry of Family, Youth and Sport about a project I’ve been developing for most of the past year. The project was approved! Just need to finalize the financing, which should happen next week. So, I could finally relax Friday afternoon. I met up with a couple UNV colleagues for a quick beer.

For the first time in 3 years, I was invited to the big Independence Day party at the American Ambassador’s residence. Although I was still really pooped, and was hosting a colleague overnight in Kyiv, I felt I just couldn’t pass up the invitation. It was a fun event, and I enjoyed spending a couple hours with American friends and making some new acquaintances. After that party, I met up with some UNV colleagues for a late night. We stumbled home around 1 am (I think) and collapsed.

Igor went to Korosten on Tuesday, planning to be there a day or two, but that turned into the whole week. After seeing my UNV colleagues off to the airport, I drove to Korosten to finally visit with his family and friends. I had really been looking forward to listening to Igor tell everyone about our trip to the US. I love to listen to him tell stories, for one thing, but also I learn a lot more about his impressions and perceptions when he tells other people about what we’ve done and where we’ve been. Unfortunately, I missed most of his stories this time since he’d been there a week and seen most everybody by the time I got to Korosten. I did hear a couple stories, though - like how awesome Niagara Falls are, and that Ohio is a great place for retirement ’cause everything is set up for comfort (drive-thru banking, drive-up drop off for the library, etc). Igor was also immensely impressed with the vast array of gardening tools my Dad has - a tool for every task, he said.

We had dinner with Igor’s family, then rushed off to meet up with some friends who were waiting for us at their dacha outside Korosten. I was driving, which meant I didn’t have quite as much fun as everyone else, but I honestly didn’t mind the excuse to not have to drink vodka. Time to dry out for a bit.

We slept like the dead Saturday night, and for the first time in weeks I felt like I had a full night’s sleep. We woke up at 9:30 - jumped up is more like it, since we had an appointment at 10. Neither of us could believe we’d slept for over 10 hours! After running some errands, we spent an hour or so picking raspberries and blueberries in the yard - yum! There are still some cherries on the trees, but we decided to pass this time. Igor’s mom made a fabulous spread for lunch (as usual), with the highlight being vareniki (dumplings) with cherries, blueberries and mullberries. We stopped by Igor’s college roommate’s house on the way to Kyiv to visit them and Igor’s godson, and of course a “quick stop” turned into an hour and a half and another bursting table of goodies. We finally made it home around 7:30. The first time in nearly a month when we are home alone, and what do we do? I start the laundry and he starts scrapping the ice out of our crappy freezer - the things that desperately need to get done but we haven’t had time to do for ages. Finally we settle down, open a bottle of wine, and he’s watching boxing while I catch up on my blog.

It hardly seems like we were in Columbus just a week ago.

two weeks have flown by.

We spent 2 days last week with my Moldovan friend Petya and his girlfriend Marina. Petya lived in Tvarditsa, and was my good friend and walking buddy in the village. He’s studying at a university not far from Moscow now, and met there the love of his life, Marina, who ironically grew up in a village not far from Tvarditsa. They had to go to university in Russia to meet each other! They are spending the summer on a Work and Travel program, and managed to get jobs in Ohio working concessions on the fair circuit. Not glamorous work, but they are getting quite the tour of small town America. We picked them up last Sunday and brought them to Columbus for the night. How strange and wonderful to meet my Tvarditsa friend in my hometown! We had a really good time with them.

Tuesday we took a long walk through the neighborhood, bought Igor an album for his growing collection of state quarters, and bought him a couple of buffalo steaks. It was a beautiful day, and we enjoyed admiring the lovely yards everywhere. We sat in a little park for a break, and to look through Igor’s growing collection of state quarters. Man, those things were getting heavy to be carrying around! Later in the week we found an album for him, and I thought it was going to be permanently attached to him. We were down to five missing quarters as of Saturday afternoon - which included 3 quarters that haven’t been minted yet, or at least that’s what I thought. That little genius Tyler showed at Dad’s birthday party with THREE of the missing quarters - including Arizona, which we didn’t know was available! So Igor brought back a near-complete set of state quarters, and next year we’ll have a good time finishing it up with Alaska and Hawaii.

Later in the day, Igor and Dad did a lot of yard work, while Tyler and I worked inside the house. She got an urge to bake, or more preciously she got an urge to eat sugar cookies so we baked a big batch of them, plus a pan of brownies. Yum!

In the early evening we went to the pool and we could finally make use of our new bathing suits. In Ukraine, all the women - no matter what age, no matter how big - all wear two-piece bathing suits. And the men all wear little Speedo-like things. I was very uncomfortable the first few times I went to beaches here, not being used to seeing so much skin and sometimes “too much information.” But after a bit I started to feel uncomfortable because I felt like I stuck out being the only person in a one-piece bathing suit. After one of my trips home I brought back with me the two-piece I bought at the peak of my Weight Watchers success, when I was feeling really great about my body. I had worn it maybe once or twice in the US but always felt self-conscious. Here in Ukraine, even with 15 pounds of weight regained, I feel really comfortable in my two-piece. And it’s so nice to be around people who don’t have so many body-image hang-ups, at least not on the beach. But as we planned for this trip to the US, I told Igor that I needed to get a new, one-piece bathing suit. He was really confused, and none of my attempts to explain why I just cannot wear a two-piece in the US seemed to help him. The matter was made even worse when I told him that he would have to get a new bathing suit, too, because he would not be able to wear his Speedo-like suit, at least not in Columbus. I think he thought I was kidding until I told him that I heard on an NPR podcast that a man was fined in Florida for wearing a Speedo (granted, I heard it on “Wait! Wait! Don’t Tell Me!”, which happens to be my main source of news these days). So our first day in Columbus he bought an “American” bathing suit, which he proceeded to wear as shorts for the next two weeks. When we finally went swimming Tuesday evening, he hated it - hated the feel of the shorts in the water, the way the poofed up, and he kept feeling like they were going to fall off.

Wednesday I saw “Sex and the City” with Cheria. Awesome movie! Thursday we drove down to Athens to visit Jenny and her family. I always forget how beautiful southern Ohio is, and Igor enjoyed the scenery as much as I did. Friday morning we got up early and drove west to Serpent Mound. It wasn’t as big as we had expected, but then again, after Niagara Falls nothing seems particularly big. Some of the Ohio Indian mounds are to be added to the UNESCO World Heritage Sites list, and since they are really special and unique, I thought it would be cool to visit them with Igor. We then took a leisurely drive along country roads back up to Columbus, stopping at a couple other state parks along the way. We also stopped at an Amish store, and Igor was thrilled to see some Amish people - “The only Americans who live like Ukrainians,” he said.

Friday night was a fabulous dinner at Madeleine and Dick’s with family and friends. Saturday morning we packed, which wasn’t nearly as bad as we’d expected. I should have brought another person along with me ages ago! The extra two bags made such a huge difference.

And then Saturday evening was Dad’s really nice birthday party. Lots of his friends and neighbors. And at the end of the evening he decided to crack open a 17-year old bottle of Armenia cognac he’s been saving for years. Wow, was it every awesome!

Sunday morning came much too quickly. Dad made his famous pancakes, and Scott, Carina, Tayler and Tyle r came over to visit a few more minutes with us. Cheria and Jahi met us at the airport for final goodbyes.

We are both so full of impressions, both of us still sorting them out. I was so happy when Igor said he’d really enjoyed the trip, everything we did and everyone we met. I enjoyed the washer and dryer, and having clothes cleaned and dried in under 90 minutes. We both enjoyed the convenience and ease of everything. We took Petya to the bank to open an account, and as we left he told me he couldn’t believe how nice the banker was - “They would never be nice to you in Russian,” he said. Yes, customer service is pretty darn good in the U.S. I like being able to pay everywhere with my debit card, but it’s also nice to use cash and never had problems getting change- never once did anyone yell at me to dig in my purse for coins because there wasn’t enough change in the till or the cashier didn’t want to be bothered counting out change. I love the ease and ability to recycle (it’s so painful to put paper in the trash can in Ukraine!).

There were some not-so-great things too. The fruits and vegetables taste like crap, there’s just no other word for it. Fresh Ukrainian produce beats the US hands-down. I missed having a beer during a leisurely walk on a hot day. Heck, I missed walking! Too much driving in the US. I was embarrassed by the number of just down right huge people that Igor noticed and pointed out to me. He was especially shocked to see obese people on their motorized chairs in the grocery store. He was also floored when I told him we couldn’t just go to the pharmacy and buy some antibiotics for his sinus infection, that instead it would involve a doctor’s appointment and a prescription.

Overall though, it was a wonderful two weeks. Lots of good times, lots of good food; great friends, great family. That’s what it’s all really about.

We’re having a great time being here. Niagara Falls was truly spectacular. On Tuesday we rode the Maid of the Mist and did the Caves of the Wind walk under the falls. It was so fun to see the look on Igor’s face - so thrilled to be there, so in awe.

Wednesday we took my nieces to Ohio State and walked around campus, visiting friends in different buildings. Thursday we drove to Ft. Wayne to visit Tanya, and we came back to Columbus on Friday in time for an evening at Club Diversity with chocolate martinis. Saturday was another Eddie Bauer Warehouse excursion, followed by a fabulous cook-out at Scott and Carina’s house. Even a thunderstorm couldn’t stop us from having a great time!

Food fantasies indulged:
Igor - steak, steak and more steak. He bought the biggest hunks of meat I have ever seen. One guy at the cook-out stopped dead in his tracks by the grill and said “What is that? Is that meat?”
Ann - chocolate martinis (Igor loved them too), Mike’s Hard Pomegranate Lemonade, more chips and salsa and various yummy dips.

We had brought a bottle of balsam from Crimea to share at the cookout. It’s a kind of liquor, made from something like 27 different herbs, and is supposed to be good for your health. You can put it in tea, or mix it with vodka. Igor was a hit at the cookout making cocktails for everyone to try the balsam and vodka. After one small drink, my 6′6″ brother stood up and said “Holy cow, I’ve got a buzz! What the heck is in that?” Somehow in our explanations of how great it is for you, we must have forgotten to point out it’s 80 proof, so mixed with vodka it’s a damn strong drink! Lots of people asked where they could buy it, but I doubt it’s sold here.

Igor’s playing Wii with the twins now. So funny.

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.