HOME FOR THANKSGIVING: KHARKIV

I made a trip to Kharkiv in a 3-day weekend. My dual reason for going this weekend was the Thanksgiving celebration my former Peace Corps friend was organizing and a presentation at my former university.

November 21: Khmelnytsky-Kyiv

CHANCE ENCOUNTER. I got on the train, and there was a man in the compartment who immediately started chatting and insisting that I drink beer with him. He smelled like he had already had some alcohol, and there was no one else in the kupe at that point. I was afraid that he was a crazy Russian drunk and I was going to have to change compartments pretty soon. But I talked to him a little bit and he turned out to be a professor at the same university as me, in the kibernetika (telecommunications) department. I had heard of kibernetika but it had been translated as “cybernetics” so I had had no idea what that word meant. It was nice to finally find out what it was. It was also nice to have a beer and to mention to him that if he wanted me to come speak in English to his students he should invite me. I could understand at that moment why it was so easy and comfortable for businesspeople to do business and networking over drinks.

PAGING JON BENET? We ended up having two other people in the kupe—a woman with a young child about age 6 (presumably mother and daughter). The girl was one of at least 4 young girls on the train whose hair was tightly wound in braids, buns, curlers, or a combination. I didn’t ask what they were doing, if it was a dance troupe or a gymnastics club or something else, but I sensed glamour and competition were a part of it.

November 22: Kyiv-Kharkiv

MORNING AT THE EMBASSY. When I arrived in Kyiv I had a brief breakfast at McDonalds (yes, it was a hamburger) and then took the tram to the Embassy. Marta and Tricia were not there, but Lilia and Alyona were. I mention this only because usually I spend the morning at the embassy checking email, preparing travel grants, reporting on my situation, etc. and then have lunch with Tricia at the embassy cafeteria. Lilia never comes because she always has work to do. But I think because Tricia was not there, Lilia offered to take me up to the cafeteria. She even convinced Alyona to stop working and come and eat for a few minutes. The food itself was not that great, but it was worth it to chat with Lilia and Alyona, and to see Lilia eating for a change.

AFTERNOON IN KYIV. After lunch I took the tram to Kyiv-Mohyla academy to check out some reading and Christmas music materials from the Embassy’s English language resource center. I still had some time to kill after that, and with the chill and mist in the air I got a sudden hankering for Irish coffee. I took a cab to O’Briens Irish Pub. It was a well-decorated pub, and it was actually playing Irish music. The Irish coffee was the best I’ve had in Ukraine, but the B.L.T. was on a big bun and included a fried egg. Eh.

From O’Briens, I walked down the hill to Independence Square, and went inside the new underground mall. And it really is a mall. There was a food court with Ukrainian, Italian, Middle Eastern, and American food stands. There were upscale shops (upscale for Ukrainians) like Adidas and Esprit. I got a Let’s Go Eastern Europe book at a bookstore for 75 UAH (14 dollars). Lots of cafes too with real coffee (though upstairs there was also a “Café Nescafe”. But the piece de resistance was a store called “Alemania” (which is Spanish for “Germany”, but not Russian or Ukrainian) It sold Christmas goods and had a giant Santa in the window that danced and sang the country song “You Nearly Broke My Heart”. I was so shocked I took a picture without noticing the three “no photography” signs around it.

THE EXPRESS TRAIN TO KHARKIV. I took a cab from Independence Square to the train station. Traffic was slow, and I didn’t get there until 10 after 5 pm. Still time to make a 5:30 train, but not a lot of time. The driver didn’t have change for a 20 griven bill, so I gave him 2 U.S. dollars instead. Taxi drivers are the only people I know in Ukraine who accept dollars (other than travel agents). I got my luggage out of the locker (the cost of which had gone up to 4 UAH), and got my ticket out of my wallet so that I could check the wagon number.

That is when I noticed that my passport was not in its usual place, next to the tickets. I remembered that at the Embassy I had given my passport to the guard in exchange for a visitors badge. When I left I had given the badge back, but now I didn’t remember taking my passport from them.

I went to a payphone to call Lilia. There was no answer, so I pressed zero for the operator. I talked to a guard, and sure enough my passport was still at the Embassy. But my train was leaving in 10 minutes. There would be no way to get my passport in time for the train. But I needed identification to get on the train. Fortunately, I had a copy of my passport in my wallet with me. But would that be enough for the train? And even if it was enough from Kyiv to Kharkiv, would it be enough to get out of Kharkiv, where they tend to be stricter about these things?

The guard said I could pick up my passport anytime (even on Sunday); it didn’t matter to them. I told the guard I would try to get on the train with just a copy; if I could, I would pick up the passport when I returned on Sunday. If I couldn’t, I would pick up the passport and then buy a ticket for the overnight train.

I went to the conductor and explained that my passport was at the Embassy; could I travel with a copy? The woman mumbled to another conductor about it, and then said “there’s not much time”. This was her way of saying “yes”. I’ve noticed that Ukrainians generally don’t answer a yes/no question directly with yes or no. They simply give instructions for the next thing to do, and you have to know from the context of the instruction what the final answer is.

Anyway, I got on the train and realized even if I went through hell with the train police in Kharkiv on Sunday morning, it would be worth it for the six hours on this new train. The train car was the height of civilization, comparable to the Acela (when the tracks are working), the Thalys, TGV, ICE—any premier western train service. I like the regular Ukrainian sleeper trains, but there was something special about a well-lit car with fabric-covered bucket seats that adjusted instead of dark cabins with vinyl benchbeds. Some seats had foot rests and tray tables; seats designed for groups of four had a big table in the middle. TV screens showed music videos and train propaganda (information about Kyiv and Kharkiv and the express service, and the 10^th anniversary celebration of the Ukrainian Railways). Conductors sold butterbroti and they could heat food up in a microwave on board. There was even a free newspaper with crosswords and jokes. The bathroom—oh! Not only was it clean and had toilet paper on a roll, there were toilet seat covers and liquid soap and paper towels. And it was never locked up (with the other trains’ er, disposal systems, they can’t allow people to use the bathroom within a certain distance of big-city stations). When I arrived at the Kharkiv train station, it arrived on track 1. The platform led directly inside the station so I didn’t have to walk through the usual long tunnel corridor like a rat in a Paris sewer.

KHARKIV’S WELCOME. It was 11:30 at night, so I decided to take a taxi to get to my friends’ apartment as soon as possible. A man offered me a taxi ride for 17 grivens (usually I pay 20 from the station, so that was pretty good). Looking back, the first unusual sign was other drivers were asking him questions. I thought it was just camaraderie or curiosity, but it may have been they didn’t know him and wanted to know what he was doing there. The second unusual sign was there was already a woman in the car. Again, I’ve been in situations where I’ve had to share taxis, but I couldn’t tell if she was another passenger or the driver’s girlfriend or what. It just seemed weird. The final straw, though, was when we stopped for gas. Again, that is not unusual; I have had that happen before. But he asked me to give him 10 grivens up front to pay for the gas! And we hadn’t gone anywhere yet, just crossed the street from the train station! I said strongly, “this is NOT normal”. He insisted it was. I said, “you are not a taxi. Give me my luggage”. He did, and I walked over to another line of taxis. This driver wanted 18 grivnias. I said okay. I couldn’t tell if he was drunk or developing cataracts; he kept squinting and weaving while driving. And he took a route I didn’t recognize. Finally I saw a landmark and asked, “is this Barabashova (the big bazaar)?” He said it was and I knew we were going in the right direction.

November 23, 2002

I made it to my friends’ apartment, and we had a nice time catching up on each others’ lives and even managed to get a few hours of sleep. However, in the morning there was no hot water, and the hot water heater did not work. I had to go to plan “C”, what we in the industry call a “bucket bath” with water heated on the stove.

THE UNIVERSITY’S WELCOME. At the end of last year, I had made a request to the Embassy to purchase materials that one of my colleagues had asked for (a series of English language videos). I had also ordered some books as part of my program’s educational materials grant. Tricia had suggested that I take these materials to Kharkiv myself, and make a presentation of them. Two weeks before I had called my former department head Igor Nikolaevich to arrange to present on Saturday, the 23^rd at 10:00 am. He said Saturday was not a convenient time for the teachers. I said I understood, but it would be difficult for me to get to Kharkiv on a Friday without missing classes. (I didn’t know about the early express train that gets into Kharkiv at 12:30, and that I can catch it if I take an early overnight train from Khmelnytsky. But I had to stop at the embassy before going to Kharkiv so I couldn’t have taken that train on this trip anyway). I said if it was going to be midweek it would have to wait until January. He agreed nevertheless to do it on the 23^rd, and took down my phone numbers in case there were problems.

I arrived at the department office at 9:45, thinking I would meet with Igor and set things up in a presentation room. As I walked up I saw no notices anywhere about my arrival, which didn’t surprise me. I was surprised, however, when I walked into the department room, asked for Igor, and the secretary said, “he won’t be in until Wednesday”. I asked if Natalia Tuchina (the dean) was there; she wasn’t. The secretary said something else but I couldn’t understand.

I went to the “dekanat” (dean’s secretaries’ office, for lack of a better translation). Fortunately, Maryna, the woman who had originally asked for the English language videos and whom I wanted to be sure would be there on Saturday to get the materials, was there. We called Igor Nikolaevich at home, but there was no answer. I was a little early, so I decided to wait. Maybe he was on his way in. The longer I waited, the madder I got. I kept waiting anyway, thinking maybe he got confused and thought our meeting was at 11, not at 10.

Maryna finally got through on the phone to Natalia Tuchina. I didn’t speak to Natalia, but Maryna told me Natalia said that Igor had classes at his other university and that he had tried to cancel (cancel the classes or cancel my visit? I wasn’t sure which). I asked Maryna to accept the materials on their behalf.

TEACHER APPRECIATION. At this point it was nearly 10:50, the end of the 2^nd period. There would be a long break (30 minutes). Maryna suggested that I wait a few more minutes and talk to the teachers. I said I would wait, because then I could present the materials to those teachers who showed up.

A few teachers straggled in, including some favorites who had been friendly to me last year. I gave them copies of the list of materials I had donated to the university. I also gave them a chance to look at the video comprehension books, and the books I had ordered. (There were also some newspapers and magazines). One teacher looked through the book Keep Talking (a resource book of communicative language games and activities) and said, “this is a real treasure.” She asked how she could access this book. I said she would have to talk to Igor Nikolaevich—it’s supposed to be available. Just as the two learners’ dictionaries I bought were supposed to be available as references but seemed to have disappeared without a trace. But now with this list, they knew what they were supposed to have and knew they had to ask Igor Nikolaevich or Natalia Tuchina how to get it.

I asked Maryna to be kind of in charge of monitoring the access to these books, a kind of liaison between the teachers and Igor Nikolaevich. But that may be like asking the fox to guard the hen coop. Maryna mentioned that she took the 5-CD Christmas set home, and never brought it back because there is no longer a librarian she could safely leave it with. “I think I’m the only one who appreciates it, anyway”. I told her then she should introduce it to other teachers by scheduling a sing-a-long.

I still get angry thinking about the lack of access to resources, and about Igor’s absence. But then I remind myself of the appreciation of that one teacher who looked at that one book, and that made the whole morning worth it for me.

I ended up staying and talking and drinking tea until 10 minutes to 1. (I made a 1:00 lunch date with the friends I was staying with). On my way out, I saw two of my 4^th year English-Persian students. Now they are 5^th year students but they will always be 4^th years to me, you know? They asked if I was back to teach and I said I wasn’t. We chatted for a few minutes and then I walked downstairs. I ran into a former 5^th year English-Persian student who was now teaching Persian at the university. Finally, I saw a 4^th year English-French student. They were a smart group of students who already had the dean (a very good and well-liked teacher) for English, so I didn’t think I had made much of an impact on them. But Alina (I think that was her name; I never learned their names properly, a fact which shames me to this day) went on about how they miss me, and insisted that I come to their graduation in June. They still plan to sing “The Graduation Song” I taught them as part of the education unit the previous fall. She said, “you have to see the results of your work.” I’m getting misty-eyed even as I write about it. I did some good work there, but I wasn’t happy the way I am in Khmelnytsky. I don’t think I was as good a teacher there as I am in Khmelnytsky, either. And it frustrates me to think I could have been doing more there and doing it better if it weren’t for the fact that things in Kharkiv and at the university are totally farbludgent (that’s Yiddish for “ass-backward”).

THANKSGIVING. After lunch and a failed attempt to take a nap, I went into the city to have Thanksgiving dinner with 29 other people. The dinner was organized by the Peace Corps volunteer Emily for her Peace Corps “group” and close Ukrainian friends. It was held at the American Center. The director, Slava, was there. The set up was amazing, with three tables surrounded by chairs, vats of mashed potatoes, turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, and sweet potatoes (done Ukrainian style, shredded, and tastier than any I’ve ever had in the States). Oh yeah, and salad and vegetables. And biscuits. And lots of alcohol. And shots. I arrived as they were saying what they are thankful for. I said I was thankful for Peace Corps and the express train.

I remembered the American Center from my times there with John and Bruce’s Business class. This year the center had heat, which was nice. However, they ran out of toilet paper in the bathroom, and Slava (whom Bruce always felt was totally inept and inert) had the nerve to offer newspaper pages as a replacement. I always carry a little bit of the premium T.P. with me in a baggy, and gave my supply to people as they needed it. I mentioned to Slava that there was no toilet paper. He said it was “finished” (gone), and put napkins in there. Well, that’s a small step up. But thinking about how wrong it was for an American center not to have proper toilet paper, particularly on Thanksgiving, I understood Bruce’s point of view much better. But Emily works there now and is happy after much struggling so I didn’t mention it to her.

One nice thing about the center is that it had a projector and a VCR, so we watched “Home for the Holidays”, a hilariously bizaare movie that borders on absurd. But it made me feel better about not being home for the holidays (because I wouldn’t want to be home with a family like the one in the movie), and made me feel good about my family in general.

After the movie and some dessert (cake with candy corn, brownies), I went back to my friends’ apartment and went to sleep.

November 24, 2002

CAVIAR SHOPPING IN KYIV. My friends came with me on the Metro to the Kharkiv train station at the ungodly hour of 6 a.m. I got on the train with no problem. When I arrived in Kyiv, I went to the Embassy and practically kissed my passport. From there, I took the Metro to Khreshatyk and went to Bessarabsky market to check out the caviar. A friend of mine back home had asked me to buy some. According to the woman at the market, the caviar they sell is edible for up to 7 months. And without refrigeration, it can last up to 7 days. So I knew it would be no problem to buy the caviar, take on the train back to Khmelnytsky, and take it back to the States. The process was interesting too. For the cans she opened it to show me that it was real, and then gave me a taste. Not all cans are alike, and I picked the two that tasted good to me. I bought a jar of another variety. It was sealed so I couldn’t taste it, but she again showed me by the light how it looked. I was probably supposed to check it for a certain texture or luster, but my friend in CA hadn’t mentioned it so I chose to trust the caviar seller’s judgment.

EATING AND UTILIZING IN KYIV: From the sublime to the ridiculous: with 200 grams of caviar in my bag, I went across the street to TGI Friday’s for a club sandwich.

After lunch, I walked down Khreshatyk to a hair salon my friend Renuka had found when she lived in Kyiv in May. I didn’t remember the name of the woman to ask for, but I took my chances and got what I thought was a decent hair cut and style for 45 grivnias (about 8 dollars). Though the ultimate arbiter will be my mother; if she doesn’t insist that I get my hair done again with her hairdresser at her expense to make both sides of my hair the same length, I’ll know the haircut was good.

To kill more time (and because there wasn’t enough time or interest to go the circus), I checked email for an hour, then wandered around until I found Café Opera. It was a very artsy bar with pool tables and a great view of the Kyiv opera house. I had another Irish coffee and a salmon panini sandwich (supposedly eaten by Mick Jagger and Elvis Presley before concerts for energy). It was half the price of the club and came with veggies, and was a nice light meal; I hope to go there again.

From there I walked to Prospect Peremohy to go the big discount supermarket, Fourchette. Here I got the basic necessities I can only get in Kyiv: premium toilet paper, tortilla chips, Chips Ahoy cookies, cranberry juice (a recent discovery here, though I have yet to taste test it), and Ordana bottled water for my colleague in Odessa.

THE TRAIN TO KHMELNYTSKY: I got on the train (they didn’t even ask for my passport—go figure) and was joined by three other people. They were very friendly and talkative, and the couple (a man and a woman) were trying to get acquainted with everybody while I quietly watched. They asked me my name, and when I answered “Bridget” of course realized right away that I was not Ukrainian. But they were still open and friendly, and I felt very comfortable speaking with them, and I understood a lot of what they said. It was the most fun I’d had to date with strangers on a train. I got to try what I think was wedding cake (it was originally 19 kilograms and had been prepared to serve 200 people), I learned about the Ternopil dialect (which I think is more of a language; “shoe” is not “obuf” or “vzytta” but “meshta”, and after great difficulty and many explanations in Russian explanation the meaning of the word “obshei” (united, altogether, totally). I also learned the word for “snore” (“hrap”). The man on the train said he snores. I said I’ve been told I snore too, and that it could be a chorus that night. As I was going to sleep, I heard a chorus of snoring (in two different ranges, call-and-response), but I was still awake so it wasn’t me. Somehow I managed to sleep anyway.

MORE TAXI TROUBLES. When I arrived in Khmelnytsky, I tried to get a taxi. But the gypsy cab drivers said I wasn’t going far enough, or they wanted 10 grivens (it should be 6). I yelled at one cab driver, “work is work, it shouldn’t matter if it’s a little or a lot!” Then after the last offer for 10 grivens, I said forget it and walked to the bus stop, thereby saving myself 9.60 and maintaining a principle of service.

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