Snapshots of Ukrainian Life, Part 14

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 A desk is a dangerous place from which to watch the world. - John le Carré

Immersion

It's an easy mistake to make, assuming that moving abroad means you'll quickly and painlessly become fluent in the local language. "The immersion method," they say, "it totally works." We all hear stories of people who were able to converse in Spanish like a pro after only a summer in Argentina. We all know someone who could speak impressive Norwegian after a semester studying abroad. And of course there's pop culture polyglottery and language hackers like Benny the Irish Polyglot, the man who claims that 3 months is enough to get conversational in languages like Mandarin.

I love Benny- he's an absolute inspiration in a world full of naysayers- but is it true? I doubt immersion is the absolute answer. If it were, there would be no Chinatowns. If it were, surely all expat wives would be fluent, as they are usually the ones dealing with shopping, education, doctors, and domestic engineering non-stop in the new language. Even 2 years of living with the locals as a Peace Corps Volunteer isn't always enough to get you there.

Spring in the kitchen! (весна на кухне!)

Technically it's dinner time right now and I really should get started... but first, a quick update from the kitchen. It's been so long since the last на кухне post, ой!

With the banishment of winter and the triumphant victory of spring, we're craving lighter, fresher fare. Mangoes, for example. They're bloody expensive at the market but they. are. perfect! Two days ago we had, I kid you not, the best mango ever! And the only one I've ever paid $10 for...

Every dog has his (picnic) day

My eyes open at 8:21 AM.

"D, hurry!!" I shout and spring out of bed. "We've got nine minutes!" By hustling we manage to make it downstairs by 8:35 AM. Waiting for us is Lydia, the building вахта who has taken us under her wing from day one. "There you are!" she chirps. She's adorned with her usual armament of pink frosted lipstick, rouge, and black mascara. In true Ukrainian picnic style, she's wearing navy blue track pants and black heels. With a quick point toward the grocery bags and a "let's go!", we're off on the first picnic adventure of the year!

D and I haven't the slightest idea where we're headed, so Lydia leads the way. Being the kind of conversationalist who doesn't need much fuel to keep the fire going, we can barely keep up with her. So, I tried to get my grandson to come with us. He's 19 years old. I got up at 5 AM and prepared some pelmeni for his breakfast and reminded him about the picnic....Oh, watch out! Don't walk between those telephone poles- it'll give you a headache! Anyways, my grandson said 'Why would I go with you? I don't know those foreigners at all.' But me, I'm just delighted, it's so important to meet new people, you know... 

We catch the 272e marshrutka and travel down Shevchenko street. At some point things start to look familiar and we figure out our destination- the Zhuravlevsky Hydropark! Lots of people are outdoors today, cleaning up the city. Some groups appear to be sponsored by the Party of Regions, a political group whose blue and yellow flags flap gently in the background. "It's субботник, Saturday labor", says Lydia. "I remember doing that myself before, on Lenin's birthday (April 22nd) or on the first of May (beginning of the May holidays)." A city-wide cleaning will take place today and throughout the country, reports this news article.

I see young women in track suits halfheartedly raking up dead leaves. Gloved children follow parents around, helping collect trash. Dump truck drivers manuever their filled vehicles over curbs and drive off. Burning piles of sticks and debris complete the scene, sending smoke signals up into the sky.

If you're wondering why the city is so smoky these days.... :p

As it's early morning, the park is empty. It's only us, the субботник volunteers, and a few old folks.

Three old men are standing near the river, one fully clad in a worn suit, the others in skimpy speedos. About twenty feet away two old women are lying on towels. "Look, there they are!" Lydia nudges me. She's been telling me about these dedicated river-goers all morning. "See how dark their skin is? They're out here all winter, I'm telling you! It's wild!"

Because we arrive so early, we score the prime picnic spot- nestled in a grove of trees is this improvised picnic table. Later, as more people drive and walk into the area, I catch some envious glances. Sometimes it pays to be the early bird.

D, who didn't have time for a cup of black tea earlier, has been a bit sleepy and sullen throughout the journey to the park. But now the manly task of setting up the fire stirs his blood and he begins to show some signs of life :P Meanwhile, Lydia and I are distracted by a pack of dogs, circling half-heartedly and barking in our direction.

Lydia knows these dogs. As she slips off her heels, she mentions being a friend of their caretaker.

Good + Good + Good = Not So Good

This post is not about Ukraine. This post is about the insidious power of the word "okay".

6 signs of spring!

It's indisputable- spring!

Down in the metro, workers have removed the outermost set of doors. It's so nice to just breeze through instead of struggling past.

Trees have burst into bloom.

First picnic of the year = success!

The city smells of smoke. Piles of dead leaves are being raked and burned to clear green areas for summer.

Сырок, the perfect warm weather treat, is finally appealing again.

How will you celebrate? : )

More McDonalds

This is kind of embarrassing to write about. It's one of those cliches that Americans are known for- starting wars, wearing tacky shorts in cathedrals, and spreading fast food around the world like a venereal disease :p But I stumbled across the picture below in my Russian textbook last night and now I've got McDonalds on the brain.

This is an old textbook, rescued from a professor's giveaway pile several years ago. It was published in 1991, the year the USSR dissolved into the CIS, so everything had been written a year or two prior with the assumption that the USSR would still be around upon publication. It's full of model conversations about cooperative apartments and the exciting return of commercialism. The authors were very enthusiastic about the introduction of new words like маркетинг (marketing), words "so new that the stress has not yet been fixed" and мини-ЭВМ (electronic mini-computer).

Anyways, part of the textbook's overall storyline involves Bob McDonald, an exchange student from Columbia University who has (as of chapter 3) spent most of his time hanging around the office and looking scruffy. In the picture above, fur-hatted Boris asks: "Bob, if it's not a secret, are you related to the famous McDonald guy?" "No," replies Bob, "my father is a businessman". Hmmm... product placement, anyone?

In this second picture we see the first McDonalds cafe to open in Moscow in January 1990. You might think to yourself "Wow! It was like Black Friday for french fries back then!" but wrong! It still is! Here's a McDonalds news release from January 22, 2013: Kyiv McDonalds again becomes the 2nd most popular in the world. AGAINST 34,000 OTHER MCDONALDS, people!! Imagine!* And just a few weeks later, on Feb 4th, 2013, a new press release: 8 Ukrainian McDonalds entered in the world's top 100.

(*D and I actually went there once in 2007 and were lucky to escape with all our limbs intact.)