We meet again, so soon, and the pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. When last I left you I was in Kyiv, and was trying to figure out how to spend my day. I had my meeting which was fine, and everything is on the up and up. But, the most enjoyable part of the day in Kyiv, was the train ride home. Grabbing my ticket on the Kyiv-Odessa line I met a couple guys on their way to Odessa for a vacation.
These guys were police officers from Siberia. They were from Lake Baikal, which is one of the largest fresh water lakes in the world. They also, kindly, have given me an open invitation to visit the lake. An invitation which I very well may take up after service is over . . . Every now and then the Trans-Siberian Railroad calls my name, but only every now and then.
As Siberians, these guys spoke Russian. I learned, poorly, Ukrainian. So, I was communicating to them in the most broken of Russian, but ultimately I was relatively successful, which I was a bit proud of. However, luckily, in the dining car on the train we met a man, Sasha (Sasha is a nickname for Olecksander, the Russian/Ukrainian version of Alexander), who spoke fluent Russian, English, and Spanish, and he became our friend and translator.
Sasha, himself, was a pretty interesting guy. He was born in the Ural Mountains (in Russia), lived for a few years in Cuba, and now is a resident of Odessa. Also, he was drinking a water glass full of cognac, and I don’t know how but it didn’t seem to affect him in any way. I still don’t know why cognac is so popular here, but it is such awful stuff, in my opinion.
But, it is pretty common here to share what you have in terms of food and drink with those on the train with you. So, my Siberian friends decided to share their duty-free gin with me. . . And it seemed more of a requirement, than a suggestion. If you decide not to drink with someone here, especially if you are a man, it is frequently thought that you do not respect the person. Not wanting to be culturally insensitive, I, of course, chose to imbibe with my new found friends. Because I did not have anything to offer, it was determined that I would pay for the mixer, and a snack in the dining car. I bought a bottle of juice, one orange, and one bottle of Bojormi (special Georgian mineral water) for the hefty sum of 75 hryvnias. In converted terms this is just under $10.00, but in real terms here, this could buy me three pizzas at the local pizza place in town, it could buy me three meals at McDonalds (these are expensive options), this could buy me groceries for 3 days . . . needless to go further, it was usurious. Those cross-cultural experiences, however, are priceless (not the good kind of priceless which actually has value, but priceless like a mother’s love).
The Siberians, as I mentioned, were policeman, but they also seemed pretty typical of what I now picture as Siberia. One was ethnically Russian, the other was ethnically Asian, he had the appearance of a Kazakh (the real kind, not the Borat kind). They were also outdoorsmen. Baikal is one of the largest lakes in the world (I believe it is second behind Lake Superior, but don’t quote me) and it is also the deepest lake in the world. It seems like a pretty wild place. I use wild here in the same way we describe the “Wild West.” I think it is appropriate to note to my American audience that Siberia is not a snowbound wonderland. It actually does have seasons, and warm summers. But, as we know, winter is brutally cold there. They showed me some pictures of the area, and some videos on a cell phone, and it looks beautiful. A bit like what I picture in Montana, or the Canadian Rockies, minus the mountains. The video showed them hunting. And, you should have seen the elk they took down, it was phenomenally large. The end of the video was eating the liver raw and having a round of drinks, I assume vodka. That part was unappetizing, but it was pretty cool to see.
The conversation became much easier when Sasha appeared. There was a lot less gesturing, and then actually talking. Being that we were relatively close to Victory Day, that became a pretty animated topic of discussion. They wanted to know what we, as Americans, thought of Victory Day, and of course how we viewed the Soviet Union’s contribution to the war effort. I think, and I may not be representative, that our complete anathema towards communism and socialism, and its deleterious effect on the human spirit and independence leads us to undervalue the role of the Soviet Union in the Allied victory. I said that, as well. It should be mentioned that there is not generally the same view towards communism and socialism here, as there is at home. There are some people who even look back to those as the “good ole days.” I often wonder if they just forgot about the brutality of the purges, or if they just chose to remember the good times, but I don’t understand that view. However, we did agree, that the fact that American troops were invited to march in Red Square, Moscow for the Victory Day parade is definitely a step in the right direction for U.S. – Russian relations. Hopefully they continue to improve, and someday I can go to Russia without paying way too much for a visa.
My favorite part of our discussion was when the Siberians asked “well, why does he live in Zhmerynka?” They couldn’t understand why an American would leave America to live in a small town in Ukraine (not just Ukraine, but anywhere). Instead of asking me, Sasha decided to explain, and I feel pretty well my motivation. He answered “why did Captain Cook sail to Australia? Why did the Russian explorers go to Alaska, and California? Why did they go through the deserts of Central Asia? The Russians and the Anglo-Saxons (don’t tell my Irish, and Italian ancestry) are great peoples. Why did they go? Are they crazy? Maybe, yes, but they are great peoples. They want to see the world, because it is there.” I really liked that answer, too. Other than being called an Anglo-Saxon, I thought it was pretty valid answer. Of course, I think he was considering Anglo-Saxon Anglo-American, or perhaps just American, but I’ll take it. If you’re going to call me a great person, I’ll always take it.
It really was a petty phenomenal train ride. I enjoyed myself greatly. I meant to post this sooner, but got pretty busy school-wise, and then came the birthday. I will probably write more about that at a later date. We will see. But, in other news, I will be going to the Tchaikovsky museum on Monday. It is about 20 minutes from my town, and it is one of the great composer’s residences. It was here that most of Swan Lake was written, so I will give you my impressions, and maybe even some pictures, as well.
That's all I know for now,
Peter P-B Meegan (notice an Irish, not an Anglo-Saxon surname)
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