tired

so, im not much for spilling ones guts on an online public blog, but a few months without being around the people you know can really get to you. i've spent the last year trying to figure out what I want to do the next year...and every plan i make gets changed.

im happy about that. I believe that most changes are for the best, that fate knows better than me what i need. but honestly, im starting to get a bit tired.

in one year, my plans for next year have read somewhat like : egypt , california, syria, oregon, nepal, maryland, egypt, palestine, ????.

as is probably obvious, i am somewhat of a dreamer despite my consistent skepticism and sometimes pessimism. i love planning my next adventure. and though im trying really fucking hard to believe that whatever adventure i find next will be awesome, im still really fucking pissed off that money and rules keep getting in my way.

I reallize that people have to work for what they want. But for gods sakes, im working my ass off. and i guess the question then is..does it ever end? Can i ever just relax. Can things for once in my life go as planned?

probably not, and then of course if they did i'd just get bored anyway.

in the meantime, taking suggestions for getting the hell out of dodge. dodge being the east coast.

Love/Hate and America

For the past week, I have been living with some of my mom's old friends in Ukraine. The family connection is strange enough after being on my own for so long, but the real kicker is their profession: missionaries. Being a bastion of inner religious conflict, I have struggled with finding a way to live with them. Their entire lives are centered around God; they read only Christian books and music, they put God in every conversation, they pray all of the time, and they don't drink for religious reasons.

Four years ago, I would have been right on board with them. It's funny how much changes in that time, though. Today, I cringe at the thought of "reaching people for Christ," and I hate the "Amero-centrism" I see in their actions. Now, instead of joining in, I struggle not to judge them. This is only made more difficult by my own inner issues with religion, and God, and Jesus, and Buddha, and all of that. They take for granted that God is the way the Bible says, and that I am a daily Bible-studying Christian because of my parents. However, for me, its a lot more complicated.

While studying religion has been a rewarding and intriguing journey that has started to answer questions i have always had about religion, it has also raised many more. Why do we have to be sinners? Why Jesus? Why not some other way? Why does the virgin birth really matter? Who the hell came up with anyof this anyways???? But at the same time, I can't find answers anywhere else either. Buddhism touches the inner self in a way I like, but I still can't get it to explain how we came to be to begin with. Where did all of this start from? And what kind of being created the world to begin with. and why the world? Are we just some God's plaything?

I find it impossible to believe that there is no deeper meaning to life than this one, but at the same time I struggle to find the answers to any of these questions . It all seems so arbitrary, and the more I look at culture and religion the more I feel disillusioned with EVERY religion, finding them all ethnocentric and less than multi-cultural. The ancient pagan beliefs in the feminine divine seem more and more appealing, and seem to be the only religious beliefs that explained things that were there, instead of being made to fit with a specific culture. But then again, maybe they were and I just dont know that culture.

However, aside from inducing me to the above quagmire of thought, living with missionaries has forced me to come to another realization: how overly critical I am of my own people. Granted, Americans can be very ethnocentric. But so, I realize, are other groups of people. And while Christians are often lordign their beliefs over others, this is not unique to them. It is important to me to recognize the faults of these groups, especially since I am often identified as part of them, but it is also important for me to treat them with kindness and not belittle them because they have beliefs that I don't share. I still am frustrated by this amero-christo-centric culture, but I need to also learn to see the good in those people too. I've become so good at looking for the good in everyone else that I've started to see only bad things on my own side!

Ironically, my parent's friends wanted me to come to see them so I could be a Christian witness for the crimean Tatar girls they work with, who are mostly Muslim. I'm sure they didn't quite get what they expected, though I tried to steer away from any overtly religious discussions. However, I'm glad I came anyways, because despite all of the questions and frustrations I've been left with (along with the need for a reallllly stiff drink), it's taught me a lot about myself, and what I believe, and what I don't.

Of course, I'm still pretty thrilled to get to Turkey and be living on my own again. A week of uber-Christian purity is really enough for me, thank you very much. I'm looking forwards to some end-of work hedonism, in as many ways as possible.

The Great Divide

During the past 5 weeks, I have struggled to live and work, mostly alone, in a country where I can speak to approximately .01 percent of the population. I have learned that being mute and deaf is really not fun, and really not easy. Sure, its easy to get what I want by pointing to things, making goofy expressions to explain myself, and interspersing the little Ukrainian I've picked up with English words I hope the other person will understand. However, its pretty damn hard on the psyche. Every time I need to get something, I ask myself whether the struggle of trying to explain what I need is worth what I'm going to get for it. This is not always a bad thing; it's lost me a few pounds of weight and kept me from wasting money on stuff that isn't worth it.

But its also pretty draining. I love being alone, probably more than the next person, but company really does have a lot of benefits. When the extent of practice your vocal cords get is saying Hello or Goodbye and singing along to Amy Winehouse and Outlandish while walking down the street...well that sucks. After my five weeks here, I've managed to pick up enough Ukrainian so I can understand enough to not stare blankly, but then comes the tricky, and silent part:the reply. I've never wished so much to be in a place where I spoke the language.

However, just as my longing for english, french, arabic, or anything remotely connected to some language I can produce escalated, I got lost once again. While the Ukrainian national language is Ukrainian, the people are a bit confused over their own identity. Kyiv, populated by many Russians, speaks both Ukrainian and Russian. Western Ukrainians are adamant about speaking only Ukrainian, but Odessans, Eastern Ukrainians, and Crimeans speak mostly Russian. And, while the two are certainly similar, they're definitely different enough that when I, an American, wander into a Crimean Restaurant and order in Ukrainian, I am rewarded essentially with blank stares.

Every election, Ukrainians hit a sort of stalemate; Western Ukrainians vote for whichever candidate believes in the "true, independent" Ukraine. And, Crimeans, also vote in a bloc-but for whichever candidate wants to sidle up to Moscow a bit more. The result is confusing. Odessan street signs are written in Ukrainian and Russian, but sometimes one or the other and in no particular order. Official information is sometimes in Ukrainian in the Crimea, but walk into the street and the people only speak Russian. And English? Well, dream on, and check back in after a few years.

I certainly cannot claim to know that much about Ukrainian politics. However, it seems to me that Ukraine's identity crisis is one of the main reasons it is so unprepared for tourism. Ukrainians are too busy figuring out what Ukraine is to try and market it to tourists! Kyiv and the east seem to see themselves as Russia the Smaller, or just part of the Motherland. But while western Ukrainians at least seem themselves as part of a unique culture, they're still part of the minority. Add to this the struggle of transitioning to capitalism--which is definitely more of a mental struggle than a physical one, as the loads of vendors selling the same, relatively useless stuff attests-and Ukraine is one confused, divided country.

Don't get me wrong, though. While Ukraine may be frustrated with itself, divided between its people, and stubborn as hell, its still an awesome place to be. The very things that make Ukraine so frustrating to travel in are the same things that make it so intriguing. Things are *happening* here. These people are moving up. Cities are being remodeled, renovated, and transformed. Multilinguilism is on the rise. Transportation is improving. People's mindsets are changing. And more than anything, there is an excitement to life, a hope, and knowledge, that things are changing, and that new possibilities are arising. I may not be the cause of that, and I may not be able to significantly affect it, but I sure as hell can bask in it, and relish the fact that 10 years from now, a different Ukraine will exist. And then, if I come back, I can put on my jaded face and be the annoying traveler that says "Oh, you should have seen it before, its changed soo much!"

Or, maybe I'll just be the budget traveler on the side of the street lamenting the effects Ukraine's inclusion into the EU has had on my Euro-unfriendly American wallet.

So, up until this past week, my trip to Ukraine has been limited to the large cities. Given my existence in Cambridge for the past year and an Eastern European roommate, this wasn't too bad. Sure, I couldn't handle trekking 10 miles a day in 5 inch heels, but I managed to wear my flip flops and still blend in reasonably well. However, after traveling for three and a half weeks and feeling like the only girl in Ukraine without a skirt or heels, I finally had had enough.

On the 27th, I booked a bus from a city in the south of Ukraine called Ivano=Frankivsk to a supposed resort town in the mountain called Yaremche. Naturally, I put on my fanciest dress and jewellry for the ride, so I looked particularly enticing as I walked the 1km to the bus station in a dress, with my huge pack on, and another smaller backpack in front. I got on the bus with no problems and was off on my adventure.

Two hours later, the bus arrived and left me on the side of the road in an empty lot with the cyrillic letters for bus station in the back. As I stood, a bit perplexed, in this small valley in the mountains, with no english, no businesses, and no plan in front of me, I decided I would go find a place to stay. I had copied down the addresses of several Bed and Breakfasts to my map, so I could find one to stay at. However, I had miscalculated in one important place: the streets in Yaremche are not marked, are mostly dirt roads, and are interwoven so much its pretty impossible to tell which street youre on. So, as I'm trekking around the town, looking for these places to stay and wishing I had booked in advance and gotten a free ride from the bus station, my flipflop decides to break, leaving me one shoed with two packs, still wearing my dress and jewellry. I finally find some locals who seem to know where I should be going. A woman leads me up a hill, flip flop in hand, and points to a house. Thinking I had finally arrived, I set all my stuff down and go look for the owners or a sign. Strangely enough, no one is there. There is an empty car, and a dog outside. Logically, I sit down and talk to the dog, grateful for someone who understands me.

After 30 minutes or so of waiting, I start to think that maybe I have not found the right place. After all, there is no sign, and no address, and well, no people. So, I wander down the street, and ask a young girl where this hotel is. She says "yabluchko," which I realize, besides from being one of only 50 or so Ukrainian words I actually know, is the name of the hotel I'm going to. Excited, I leave my bags at the other house, and wonder off down the street, still with one flip flop, dodging horse shit, actual horses, and lots of shirtless but old construction men.

Finally, I arrive at the new place, but once again, no one is actually there. I'm mystified by the consistent lack of people but happy to be somewhere, so I go, retrieve my other bag, and come back. As I get back, a teenage boy walks into the house, and I ask him if there is a room available. Nope. Strike too.

On the verge of tears, stuck in a strange town with little money and no clue about where to go, I ask if there is a room somewhere else. He comes back a few minutes later and says yes, he has found me a room. Relieved, I start repacking my backs, and finally change into my Chacos, so that this time as i trek by the construction workers, I at least wont look like some bizarre city girl with no clue where I am (though thats actually a pretty accurate description). A woman comes to pick me up, and proceeds to rattle off in Ukrainian then entire trip, as I repeat the word "tak" (yes) over and over, understanding not a thing. Finally, we arrive at her place ,and I realize this Andrey thing she's been referring to the whole time is her son, who she thinks speaks english, but who actually does not.

After being put in a beautiful room overlooking the mountains, I am shoved off to the grocery store with her son, who changes into what americans would term "his sunday best" for the trip down the street to buy fruit juice. On the way, we stop to talk to, or in my case stare blankly at, every person we pass along the way. Starting to feel like some sort of zoo animal, I start laughing to myself, which only draws stranger glances. And, on our return back to the house, as I hear the woman (whose name i still dont know) exclaming about me and her son going to the store, I start to have the vague suspicion that she is trying to set me up with him, increased even more as she raves about his english skills, has me give her my address so we can be pen pals, and tries to pry all of my phone numbers from me, telling me that andriyy can show me anything i need to see around town.

So, to wrap things up, I'm in a beautiful, picturesque place, surrounded by roaming cats, chickens, horses, and even 3 local wandering dogs who follow visitors around town, and a host mother who crosses herself and me everytime i leave the house and is always trying to kiss me, hug me, or rant to me in Ukrainian, to which I simply nod, go along with, and then run up to my room to work on my copy in peace, because at least its in english, and well anything in english is really fabulous right now. although, on the bright side, I do live across the street from the local french teacher, so at least there is one person i can talk to....

She'll be coming round the mountain...

Today marks my last night in Lviv, and move to the mountains. I realize I've posted pretty much not at all through this stay, but its purely for good reasons; Lviv has been awesome. Known for beer, coffee, and chocolate, 2 of which i quite appreciate, Lviv is far more relaxing and smaller than Kyiv, making it my type of city. The only things its missing is a hookah bar....

Anyways, the people in Lviv are some of the nicest I've ever met. Though they don't speak that much English, they will always try to help you get where you need to go or do what you need to do. When I showed up at the post office station, completely confused as to how to airmail a letter/package back to the states, a woman tried to help me, and upon discovering I spoke english, proceeded to call all of her friends that spoke english to have THEM help me. The day before, as a couple friends and I were trying to find a cafe, a woman came to give us directions. She didn't know where this particular street was, but she walked us in the right direction, asking everyone she saw along the way where the cafe that the americans were looking for was. We thought she would charge us money, but it turns out she just didn't want to leave us until we got there.

Aside from the nice people, I've been enjoying a more relaxed pace of life. I now have a coffeeshop that I frequent everyday, taking advantage of my solo-traveler status by enjoying a cookie and juice with icecream in it for lunch. Tres healthy and tres yummy. I now am the owner of two english books, so I get to read also, which I'm very excited about.

I've also been experimenting in the culinary tastes of Lviv; aside from my favorite juice/ice cream drink, I've had Polish, Georgian, Armenian, and Greek food, all of which was delicious. And, on the formerly less tasty side, I've developed a taste for vodka, my former least favorite drink. However, after being handed a cup of vodka with no chasers by my friend Irish-phd.holding-ukrainian nationalist-biker friend Duncan and his ukrainian friends, among them a newspaper editor, two famous Ukrainian singers from the soviet era, a local mafia head, and a television producer (or something like that), and toasting to Ukrainian Nationalism, I learned to drink my vodka, and enjoy it too. I can now routinely drink vodka without grimacing that much, and certainly without reaching for a soda. Of course, that might have something to do with the quality of vodka here too. Regardless, friends, this means that when I return, I will actually break my pre-college vow and take shots again.

Tomorrow I head to Uzhgorod and begin my trek through the mountains of Ukraine, a move I am excited about despite my already-present nostalgia for Lviv. Working for LG has made me slightly (or maybe more than slightly) antisocial, and I must say I'm excited about having a week to myself, in normal hotels, to do as I please , eating at cheap but good restaurants, hiking, and sleeping a lot.

c'est la vie, mais cest une vie merveilleuse.....

On to "real" Ukraine

Goodbye, Kyiv. Hello, Lviv.

Well, after 10 days in Kyiv, I'm finally in Western Ukraine, in Lviv, a mere 100km or so from the Polish border, and the "cultural" center of Ukraine. This new hostel is pretty sweet (kitchen, porch, free wireless), though I've heard some bad stories about the owner, so well see.

Lviv is smaller than Kyiv, and a bit cooler, which is nice because Kyiv is HOT. I've got about 7 days here to explore.

My last few days in Kyiv were pretty relaxed; I did some photography, took a daytrip to Chernihiv, and hung out with some Aussies who conveniently showed up to the hostel on my day off. I ate a ton of food at Puzata Hata, my favorite cheap-food place, and finally learned the word for meat after trying to get meat dumplingy things several times and ending up with cherry dumplings or cabbage dumplings instead. Bleh.

Two days ago I had my first conversation in Ukrainian after getting lost in Chernihiv with no map and no directions. I found a couple of nice old ladies in a church museum and between their amusement and loud Ukrainian and my stilted 20 words of Russi-krainian, we managed to both get me a map and to get me unlost. Pretty much made my day.

Looking in future news, I've been solidifying my post-Istanbul plans, and have decided upon a jaunt through the Balkans, with aims of hitting the Dalmatian Coast and Ljubljana before Sziget in Budapest. Pretty sweet.

The Great Patriotic War Museum

Yesterday I had the privilege of visiting one of Ukraines premier destinations, the Great Patriotic War Museum. Which war, you ask? The Cold War? Afghanistan? A made up war? Nope. World War II. Apparently, the historical accounts were mistaken. World War II had nothing to do with the Holocaust, or an evil person. It was, my friends, the great triumph of communism over fascism.

Now, in all serious, the museum is pretty damn cool. It features two museums, several square kilometers of park, an eternal flame, monuments to particularly patriotic Soviet cities (wonder what the requirements were to get one of those), old Soviet tanks and helicopters, and most obviously, a 6o something meter tall statue of a giant man/woman (unclear which one) holding a sword and a shield. True to form, some reports say that statue has a shoddy structure and is at risk of falling. Presently, though it remains standing.

Although I found the place pretty laughable, it was a good reminder that history is pretty biased; I'm betting the story of World War II taught to soviet kids was different than ours. And, an interesting note that even though the US and the USSR officially fought together, they weren't fighting the same cause at all.

A few hours after my visit to WWII museum, I went over to Babyn Yar, the monument for the place where the Nazi's killed the first 40000 victims of WWII in Ukraine, and 160000 more over the next few years. Ironically, the pit where so many people died fifty years ago is now used by families for picnics in the parc. However, the monument itself, rising out of the ground, with its images of people falling into the grave below, spoke to me so much more than all of the pomp of the actually WWII museum. Simplicity has its strength.

Anyways, I'm moving on today and tomorrow to the home stretch of Kiev; I'm only here for three more days. I've got some more restaurants to hit, a few nightclubs (one of them amusingly named Androhyn , or Big Boys Club) , and then I peace out to Lviv.

It's been good, Kyiv.