The Pig

Since I’m still having difficulties with my photo uploading, I’m linking to my son Joe’s blog, which includes a photo of the pig described by us both in earlier posts.

http://kapustakapital.blogspot.com

 

User Friendly Machines–Ukraine Style

People close to me know that in addition to reading, hanging out with my husband and family (but especially my grandboys), and swimming, my favorite pastime is doing laundry. In addition to working at a bookstore or a library, Computilo the Elderly would be very happy running a laundromat as a potential retirement career. My brother, Bob, has often referred to me as “The Mad Laundress,” and my children have resorted to locking their suitcases when they come to visit just to prevent me from snatching their dirty clothes to wash. The only other person in my family and friends circle to possess the same compulsion is my son-in-law’s mother. Needless to say, the birth of any children is always a high spot, not only for the potential to see the new grandchild, but mostly, to add their laundry to our respective piles. When we are together in the same house, we have worked out a friendly arrangement as to who has the priority to do the laundry at specific times.

When we went to Ukraine to visit our son Joe, I was very heartened to find that a) Joe had a washing machine, and b) that our rental apartment had one! How delighted I was that since I couldn’t understand anything on Ukrainian television, I could spend any vegging time doing laundry!

Having worked in computer book publishing for nearly 25 years, describing complex activities in plain English has become second nature to me. What I soon discovered was that the washing machines in Ukraine include picture directions! With no explanation as to what the pictures referred to! For example, a picture of concentric circles with a line drawn through it meant something you didn’t want to do or didn’t want the machine to do. But what? I soon found out that the concentric circles meant “centrifuge” and that you didn’t want it to do something. That something was to use the “centrifuge” to spin out the water. I found this out after I began to drag heavy, water laden towels from the machine. Did I forget to mention that very few people in Ukraine have clothes dryers? Most everything is air dried. It took 2-3 days for our towels to dry, it should be noted. Other controls were equally enigmatic. What was the delicate cycle? Which control meant you could (or should) add bleach? Trial and error finally saved me from myself, but it’s clear that the Italian manufacturers (all washers seemed to have been manufactured in Italy) have a ways to go in their icon representations. Once again, the impatient, dull, Amerikanskis were foiled by the more advanced technology found in other countries.

Flying Home

After checking our bags and checking in for our flight, we wandered around the Kyiv terminal looking for food. Our options were: Toast with Tomato, Toast with Dried Up Cheese and Tomato, Toast with Grey Meat and/or Tomato, Toast with Mayonnaise, Toast with Ketchup. We opted instead for two waters, “bezgaza” or “without gas/bubbles”. While waiting for KLM to call for boarding, we were approached by two women–one in her late 60’s-early 70s–the other in her 40s. We were suspicious, yet open to hearing their story. The young one asked us if were flying to Chicago as our final destination. The older one then blurted out in very practiced English–I Need Help! The younger one, who we later found out was not related to the older one, asked us if we could help shepherd “Jane” to the right connecting gate once we got to Amsterdam. Jane spoke almost no English, and, as we’ve documented thus far, our Ukrainian is primitive at best. Through clever hand gestures and pantomime, we all got to the gate on time and even got to the Ladies Room and the Snack shop! Before that, however, we had to sit through the Kyiv-Amsterdam flight next to Felix Unger, Monk the Detective, and any other obsessive-compulsive individuals we’ve ever known. For the sake of drama, let’s call him “Mr. Crazy.” Mr. Crazy kept talking to himself, using hand gestures to make a point to some invisible audience, and proceeded to wipe down his tray table at least 12 times during the 3 hour flight. When he wasn’t making his tray table free of germs and vermin, he was counting his credit cards and sorting them. For awhile, we thought he was going to ask us to play cards with him. We thought he wanted us to play Kings in the Corner: Mastercard, Visa, Discover, and American Express being the four kings. Nonetheless, we didn’t understand his language and didn’t much care to.

We got to Amsterdam, grabbed Jane, and took off for our gate. Our hopes for a fairly empty flight were soon dashed. The 747 was packed to the absolute gills with many (this time very friendly) flight attendants, babies, more babies, toddlers, punk rockers, college students, and a rapper who silently rapped her way through the entire flight right in front of us. Our seatmate was a lovely woman from Mongolia who worked for the U.N. and was currently stationed in Kazakstan. We told her about Joe’s upcoming trip to Kazakstan for his friend’s wedding, but we didn’t talk about the upcoming horse barbecue at the wedding feast because we couldn’t remember whether his friends were barbecuing the horse in Kazakstan or Kyrgystan, and we didn’t want to act stupid about our ignorance of food customs in central Asia. We did talk a little about food in Mongolia. Surprise! They eat Mongolian Beef and Mongolian Barbecue in Mongolia!

At any rate, we made it through 8 1/2 deadly, hot hours of cramped cabin. Lucy and Tarek picked us up at O’Hare, we chatted with them at their house and picked up our car and headed home. Pictures and Final Reflections coming later this week…or sometime!

Kyiv: The Last Days

Following our McTasty Friday evening meal, we regrouped with our regulation “team meeting.” FYI, Joe felt the need to hold several team meetings throughout our trip to ensure our compliance with his program and agenda, and to be fair, his safety (probably ours as well). (Not to ramble, but being the gawker that I am, I did completely stumble into some gypsies who were begging in the Lviv town square. Said individuals were triangulating around me and were ready to “frisk” me, as it were, until Joe and Gene steered me away. For the record, the Mom gypsy was holding a baby to play the sympathy card, but HA, I noticed that the “baby” was a doll, since there were definitely real doll feet sticking out of the blanket.) At any rate, for Saturday morning, we were allowed some free time and given the opportunity to make it all the way to his apartment without a leash or a baby harness on us. The new apartment that we moved into after we returned from Lviv was a fair piece (as my beloved sister-in-law Glenda might say–or she might not) from Joe’s place and required some elementary navigation skills. (Go out the door, turn left, turn left, turn left, turn left, and then walk straight, past the Handicapped supply store, where a male mannequin was wearing crutches, a head bandage, a sling, a wrapped stomach binding, and the coup de grace, a diaper.) We thought we had it down pat until we reached our first left and realized that there were two lefts in the same space–one leading underground and one just left. Reaching that fork, we took the road “more traveled by” (apologies to R. Frost) and made it to Joe’s place. Then, we were even more proud of ourselves for sneaking past the outside security guide (who looks like a Ukrainian Tommy Lee Jones) and getting behind the outside gates due to several attractive, stiletto-clad residents of his apartment who were going out to get groceries, or Botox, or whatever. The next hurdle was entering Joe’s security code in order to get into the building itself. After several tries (you have to reach upside down and feel for the numbers to press. It would have been more helpful to have a McGyver mirror, but oh well. We then said hello to Otis again and took the ten floors to Joe’s place and rang the doorbell. Success. Oh, our boy was so proud of his elderly, helpless parents! We stayed for awhile, had lunch, I blogged, Gene slept, Joe watched soccer. That evening, we went out to dinner with Olya, Joe’s friend, originally from Belarus. Olya was also a Muskie fellow several years ago and got her degree in Public Policy from the Monterey School for International Studies in California. It was great to meet her and to see how much democracy-building work is going on in the Eastern European countries both by Olya, Joe, and other young people like them. We went home, packed, and prepared for Ukrainian Viktor the Driver to pick us up. We piled into the car for the airport, and Viktor told us…:”Good-Bye Ukraine, Hello America!” Indeed.

Ukraina: Joe Bednarek–Celebrity

Following the pig event on Thursday, we walked through Chervonograd. According to Joe, it’s a large city, built in the Soviet Style. (Concrete, concrete, concrete). However, Jaroslava’s neighborhood has more of a village feel. She lives in a large roomy house (next door to the pig, etc.), but the streets are dirt roads, many people have livestock, and every inch of available yard is used as a garden. The potholes are huge, the buses are bumpy, and the people are wonderful. We walked over to Joe’s old apartment when he was in the Peace Corps. Very grim looking building. We then went to his old school. Also a grim building, but some very lively students inside. We met with his former colleagues and then went to an English class so the kids could ask questions. They asked Joe a number of questions, like “Do you like chips?” “Do you play the guitar?” How old are you? Are you married? The children had British accents when they spoke English, but I thought they sounded great. Every student learns English in Ukraine. The system is very different though, but they do have nearly 95% literacy rates in the country, far better than the U.S. As in the U.S., discipline is getting harder, especially since many children live alone or minimally supervised by grandparents because their parents are working in other European countries to earn money. We had lunch with several of the English teachers, and found out that Joe is still a celebrity, even 7 years later! We finally went back to Jaroslava’s house and enjoyed the evening immensely, especially since homemade wine had been added to the vodka-cognac repertoire. Jaroslava speaks impeccable English, but her husband does not, so we had some great translation moments as we talked about Soviet history, Ukrainian nationalism, Orthodox Christianity, and more. We then finished the evening playing “Duroc,” or “Fool,” a card game popular in Ukraine. Jaroslava is a recent cancer survivor, so Gene and Jaroslava compared doctor and treatment notes and had a great bonding experience. In addition, Jaroslava and I had much in common, same age, same former profession (English teacher), many of the same interests. I truly hope that she does well. The next morning, we went to Lviv to walk around. Lviv is one of the most beautiful cities in Europe. Much of it was not destroyed during the wars, so there are many beautiful churches, theaters, museums, and such. It definitely has a more western feel than Kyiv, and because it is so close to Poland, you can see Polish signs and some folks speaking Polish. At one time, it was part of Poland (and many other countries.) We flew back to Kyiv on Friday evening and had our first Ukrainian McDonald’s Meal: Big Macs and McTasty’s (QP with Cheese back here). Today we’re at Joe’s house, and tomorrow, we fly home.  We can hardly believe it! Probably no more posts until we’re back in Indy. I’ll try to include photos then.

Ukraina: Easter (Orthodox) Ham–For Real

Well, we are finally back from Western Ukraine. We arrived in Lviv on Wednesday evening and took a harrowing taxi ride from Lviv to Chervonohgrad (The Red City, City of Miners, City of Red Slag, City built like Soviets). We stayed with Joe’s former teacher-mentor when he was in the Peace Corps. Jaroslava, her husband Petro, her son Igor, his twin sister Ira, husband Sergey, and their sons Volodya and Markian. Only Igor still lives with his parents. Ira’s family lives down the street. (Note to Noah, Caleb, and Evan: Jaroslava is a Busia (called BabaSlava), and true to form, Grandpa and I saw many legos and matchbox cars at BabaSlava’s house. Markian and his friend, Bogdan, were busy one afternoon making truck and firestation sounds in Ukrainian. It sounds the same.) We had a delicious meal with Jaroslava and her husband, complete with all sorts of interesting and tasty Ukrainian dishes, some homemade Vodka (made by Jaroslava’s father), and some tea with cognac. We slept well that night……until

…..Around 8 a.m., Joe came charging into our bedroom and said…”Is that what I think it is?” I, still groggy from sleep, thought I was dreaming about a Porky Pig cartoon since I was sure I heard a pig squealing. Coming forth to consciousness, I realized, like everyone else, that yes, indeed, a pig was squealing, five hundred dogs were barking, and bunches of roosters were crowing. Gene thought he heard an electric drill. Right again. For, right next door, Jaroslava’s neighbors were butchering a hog! Fortunately, we didn’t witness the actual murder, but we did get to watch the blowtorch singing the hair off, and then the sharp knife skinning the hog. Their dog was barking a visibily nervous bark, certainly concerned that he was to be next. Likewise, the rooster scooped down, perhaps thinking he could find a tasty morsel, but the neighbor, Luba, threatened him with a knife and last we knew, he had hunkered down with his many chicken wives. And that was how we started our first full day in Chervonohrad. (Note to readers: I’m having trouble uploading the picture of Porky into this blog. I’ll work on it when we get home.)

Ukraina–Days 5 1/2 to 6 1/2

Last night, we had dinner with our Russian book partner, Gennadiy, his wife Lena, and his partner Viktor. What a wonderful time! First, we went to Gennadiy’s home, where we met his 3 year old daughter, Mascha (Mary) who was born in the U.S. when Gennadiy was in graduate school at the University of Missouri. She was delightful, especially when she chided us for not taking our shoes off immediately! We stayed for a few minutes–and a few drinks–at their home, and then went off to the restaurant–for the next five hours! We had a great conversation, half in English, half in Ukrainian, a tad in Russian, and we were glad to have our son Joe there to translate. I even threw in a Polish word or two for good measure. Lena and I talked about the differences in childbirth and parenting between Ukraine and the U.S. (U.S. is very different in terms of support systems for things like breastfeeding, etc. )We heard Lena and Gennadiy’s labor story, where they were watching the Discovery Channel in the labor room and Gennadiy kept talking about how the elephants were having babies, the coyotes were having babies, the lions were having babies, so why can’t their baby come out! We had a wonderful meal, some outstanding wine, and if you ask Joe, some great vodka as well. The restaurant was very European in ambience, and we ended up talking about every subject under the sun, from computer books, to the U.S. Elections, to the Ukrainian elections, to Joe’s accent and vocabulary, to Lena and Gennadiy’s adventures in Yellowstone, and on and on. Gennadiy and Lena et al. were very much looking forward to seeing Drew and Kalleen Steele in September when they visit Joe. They will love it, but I would not recommend the Mojitos (see previous posts). All in all, the atmosphere in Kyiv is very vibrant and happening and beautiful, even if the drivers do drive on the sidewalks.

This afternoon, Wednesday, we’re flying to Lviv and then taking a bus to Chervonohrad, about an hour north of Lviv ,to stay with Joe’s old mentor and supervisor teacher while he taught high school English. We are looking forward to this leg of the trip as it will be very different from Kyiv. Note to friends/family–we’ll probably be on radio silence for the next few days unless we can find an internet cafe.

We’re back in Kyiv on Friday night, and then leave Sunday morning. For those of you asking about photos, I left my digital camera on the kitchen table and Gene brought his old-timey camera with real film. Joe is bringing his digital camera, so we should be able to post a picture or two soon.

Talk to you soon…thanks to all for the comments!

Ukraina: Day 5 1/2-6: Ukrainian Mojito

Monday evening, April 14th, had my first Ukrainian mojito. It was very green. Couldn’t taste the rum. Won’t do it again. I’m sticking with vodka and beer.

Tuesday morning-afternoon: Went to the Ukrainian Village re-creation of an old Ukrainian village–kind of like a Williamsburg, Conner Prairie type place, except that the “interpreters” didn’t interpret much. Mostly they scowled. As Joe has told us, the Ukrainians don’t ask “Hi How Are You” because why should they when they don’t really care how you are? Good point. We still look very Amerkanski.

This evening, we’re having dinner with Gennadiy Petrokovits, the publisher who does the …For Dummies books in Russia and Ukraine. Tomorrow, we leave for Lviv and Chervonohgrad (about 350 miles west), where Joe lived when he was in the Peace Corps. May not be able to post until Friday evening.

Ukraina: Days 4-5

Day 4: Sunday, April 13: Went to the tourist street where all the souvenir vendors hawk their wares. Most of the vendors speak broken English and are very pushy. We made someone’s day when we bought a bunch of stuff, and because it was a bunch, she gave us a “discount.” Hmmm. We then went to a few very modern shopping malls, one of which had a space exhibit on Yuri Gagarin, the first Soviet astronaut. We then went to a grocery store, bought some food, and Joe cooked for us while we watched “Ukrainian Superstar!” the Ukrainian American Idol, and “Battle of the Psychics,” which is one of many Ukrainian reality shows. In the Battle of the Psychics, various psychics try to find out stuff. Very strange. There is some kind of “Dancing With the Stars,” but we haven’t seen it yet. Had a good day…same deal, same Ambien.

Day 5: Monday, April 14th. We went to Joe’s office to see the place and his co-workers. We then had lunch at a pseudo-Austrian-continental sandwich place, and then went off to see the Kyiv Cathedrals. This is a beautiful complex of museums and Orthodox cathedrals, including St. Sophia’s, St. Nicholas, St. Michael’s, and more. Most were destroyed during World War II or afterwards by the Soviets, but later reconstructed and recreated. Only item of note was that Gene lit a candle at St. Michael’s and burned his arm a bit. Other than that, nothing of note. Just relaxing and strolling along the Dnieper River.

Ukraina: Days 1,2,3

Rather than send a bazillion emails, I really mean it this time.

Day 1: Thursday, April 10. Chicago-Amsterdam. Fairly empty flight, but filled with very bossy Dutch flight attendants. Since the flight was fairly empty, we kept asking if we could move our seats. We tried with several different flight attendants, but the bossiest one–the Purser–finally told us: “You’ll move when we tell you to move.” So, we settled in and chatted with a soldier from of all places–Chicago Heights, Illinois! We had a great chat about Chicago Heights, people we knew, the Air Force, Iraq, Fighter Pilots, etc. etc. He was Military Police in the AirForce, and was going back to Venice, Italy, where he was stationed. Late this summer, he was going back for his third tour in Iraq.

Day 2: Friday, April 11th. Amsterdam-Kiev. Very full flight. Same bossy flight attendants from KLM. (Different, yet the same.) Before boarding, I tripped on the moving walkway. Fortunately, a pilot who looked like Hans Brinker helped me up. Gene was more embarrassed than I was, I think. We landed in Kiev and became acquainted with more bossy and pushy people–the Ukrainians. Yikes–they do shove in front of you in line!  Joe and his driver, Viktor (a talkative, plus size Ukrainian gentleman with a tiny car) picked us up and somehow managed to get our portly selves and our even more portly luggage crammed into the car and to our rental apartment, just a block from Joe’s place. Nice little place and very cheap. The elevator–known as Otis–is the scariest part. We went to a Ukrainian pizza place and were marked as Amerikanski right away. But why?

Day 3: Kiev–Monastery of the Caves and World War II Museum. Chilly day. It took some getting used to the fact that a. Ukrainians drink beer on the street, b. Ukrainian women wear stiletto heels everywhere, c. people drive on the sidewalk!!!!, and d. you negotiate with a taxi driver before you get in. The Monastery of the Caves is an ancient Orthodox structure with many secret and hidden passageways where monks are buried. Joe forgot to tell me to bring a headscarf, so I wore Gene’s old bandanna handkerchief on my head. I looked very attractive, and I’m sure, very American. He also forgot to tell us that no Ukrainian in his or her right mind ever wore white athletic shoes. They are either stiletto athletic shoes or dark athletic shoes or very pointy black shoes.  Enter Gene and Mary Bednarek in their sensible New Balance walking shoes. Again,  most attractive. World War II Museum and monuments were interesting–mostly Soviet architecture, Soviet planes, Soviet tanks, Soviet war stuff. In the evening, we had dinner with several of Joe’s American friends at a restaurant called “The Wagon.” It was meant to be a recreation of a Train Wagon, and they put us in a booth that was supposed to resemble a train car and closed the curtain. It was very Orient Express. My favorite part was when Chris, Joe’s friend, asked the waitress for bread and butter. She told him that the only butter was in the freezer and they didn’t want to get it out!  Instead, as we learned earlier that day at lunch with Joe, the Ukrainians use a salted pig fat spread on bread. It was a tad salty for my taste, and I had a hard time with the whole concept of pig fat. Gene and Mary went home, and the younguns went to hear a band, whose members were no longer allowed to play in Russia due to some tussle with the KGB, and then they went to a party at the Marine House, where the marines who guard the U.S. embassy live. The Marine House sounds a bit like a frat house, but what do we know? We just went home and took our Ambien. (Days 4-5 To Come.)