On Friday, we reattempted our trip to site. Our bus, this time, left at 2:00 PM, and our trains were scheduled for the exact same times. We got to the station without a hitch, and were able to begin our new time at site. Even more exciting, for me, was a double cheeseburger and a brewed cup of coffee at a McDonald's next to the train station. It was a delicious taste of Western excess and I loved every second of it. If I knew Ukrainian better, I would have even asked for Mac sauce on the double cheeseburger, and been back home for a few minutes.
Once back in the station I was able to find the Kyiv Post, and The Economist at a newsstand. The Kyiv Post is probably the best English language paper in Ukraine, it is a weekly. The Economist, was about a month old, and cost 25 UAH, but I have not had any time to read commentary of world news, so I was incredibly excited to find it, and gladly made the purchase. We spent our time waiting for the train again shooting the breeze, followed by a game called Bananagrams, which I had never played, but was pretty fun. I know my mother enjoys it. I was the champion of the final round, and made sure everyone knew.
The ride to Zhmerinka was four hours on the train. Another volunteer was on the same train, but she got off about two hours before me. Her exit was a bit more stressful than mine. My stop was the end of the line, so I had all the time in the world to get my bags off, and their were not many people still on the train by that point. By comparison the other volunteer had only a two minute stop to get all her gear off. I helped throw the bags off for her, but it ended up that we rushed for no reason, because the train ended up stopped there for a while.
Once we got to Zhmerinka, we were met by my counterpart's daughter, and son-in-law. They helped with my bags, and hailed a cab from the station for us. The cab brought us to my new apartment, on the 5th floor of a rather large building. I will take, and send pictures some time soon. I was showed my room, the kitchen, how the stove works, how the hot water works (only between 9:00 AM – 10:00 PM, though). Who thought my first ever apartment would be in a sleepy town in central Ukraine? I know I didn't.
I was also shown around town the next day, Saturday. I went to the supermarket, I was shown the Catholic Church, and various stores around town. My apartment is about a 10 minute walk from the town center, and about 20 minutes from my school. I even have a gas station near me that sells Pringles! Unfortunately a can costs 27 UAH, which is more than I pay for two days worth of groceries. So, maybe one day I'll feel the need for Pringles, but as of now I do not.
I had a few days to settle in, before school started for me, on Wednesday, the 23rd. I enjoyed my first class with the new students. It was funny, we had a reading about newspapers, and for one of the answers to what we need when there is a story, a student responded “redactors.” I had trouble not laughing, but in his defense, the Ukrainian word for editor, sounds like redactor. It was just funny to hear in a country with a relatively new free press.
The kids like to say “Good Morning” to me. This is regardless of the time of day. They are also interested in America, and where I come from. Mostly, because Rhode Island is only 3 hours away from New York. I was asked if I had children back in the states, or a wife, which is funny to hear as a 23 year-old American, but at this age here, I would most likely be married and have started a family.
I will continue with more later, but I am getting a bit tired. I will also take some photographs, but I will wait for tomorrow. We are having a snow-storm right now, and I want to wait until the gray, disgusting slushy snow is covered by new fresh coating of white.
Also, for the record, I am cooking for myself, everyday. Also, I found a place that sells hot dogs, which is a nice taste of home every now and then.
Goodbye, and Go Friars,
Pete
Monday, December 28, 2009
First Week in Zhmerinka
On Friday, we reattempted our trip to site. Our bus, this time, left at 2:00 PM, and our trains were scheduled for the exact same times. We got to the station without a hitch, and were able to begin our new time at site. Even more exciting, for me, was a double cheeseburger and a brewed cup of coffee at a McDonald's next to the train station. It was a delicious taste of Western excess and I loved every second of it. If I knew Ukrainian better, I would have even asked for Mac sauce on the double cheeseburger, and been back home for a few minutes.
Once back in the station I was able to find the Kyiv Post, and The Economist at a newsstand. The Kyiv Post is probably the best English language paper in Ukraine, it is a weekly. The Economist, was about a month old, and cost 25 UAH, but I have not had any time to read commentary of world news, so I was incredibly excited to find it, and gladly made the purchase. We spent our time waiting for the train again shooting the breeze, followed by a game called Bananagrams, which I had never played, but was pretty fun. I know my mother enjoys it. I was the champion of the final round, and made sure everyone knew.
Once back in the station I was able to find the Kyiv Post, and The Economist at a newsstand. The Kyiv Post is probably the best English language paper in Ukraine, it is a weekly. The Economist, was about a month old, and cost 25 UAH, but I have not had any time to read commentary of world news, so I was incredibly excited to find it, and gladly made the purchase. We spent our time waiting for the train again shooting the breeze, followed by a game called Bananagrams, which I had never played, but was pretty fun. I know my mother enjoys it. I was the champion of the final round, and made sure everyone knew.
The ride to Zhmerinka was four hours on the train. Another volunteer was on the same train, but she got off about two hours before me. Her exit was a bit more stressful than mine. My stop was the end of the line, so I had all the time in the world to get my bags off, and their were not many people still on the train by that point. By comparison the other volunteer had only a two minute stop to get all her gear off. I helped throw the bags off for her, but it ended up that we rushed for no reason, because the train ended up stopped there for a while.
Once we got to Zhmerinka, we were met by my counterpart's daughter, and son-in-law. They helped with my bags, and hailed a cab from the station for us. The cab brought us to my new apartment, on the 5th floor of a rather large building. I will take, and send pictures some time soon. I was showed my room, the kitchen, how the stove works, how the hot water works (only between 9:00 AM – 10:00 PM, though). Who thought my first ever apartment would be in a sleepy town in central Ukraine? I know I didn't.
Once we got to Zhmerinka, we were met by my counterpart's daughter, and son-in-law. They helped with my bags, and hailed a cab from the station for us. The cab brought us to my new apartment, on the 5th floor of a rather large building. I will take, and send pictures some time soon. I was showed my room, the kitchen, how the stove works, how the hot water works (only between 9:00 AM – 10:00 PM, though). Who thought my first ever apartment would be in a sleepy town in central Ukraine? I know I didn't.
I was also shown around town the next day, Saturday. I went to the supermarket, I was shown the Catholic Church, and various stores around town. My apartment is about a 10 minute walk from the town center, and about 20 minutes from my school. I even have a gas station near me that sells Pringles! Unfortunately a can costs 27 UAH, which is more than I pay for two days worth of groceries. So, maybe one day I'll feel the need for Pringles, but as of now I do not.
I had a few days to settle in, before school started for me, on Wednesday, the 23rd. I enjoyed my first class with the new students. It was funny, we had a reading about newspapers, and for one of the answers to what we need when there is a story, a student responded “redactors.” I had trouble not laughing, but in his defense, the Ukrainian word for editor, sounds like redactor. It was just funny to hear in a country with a relatively new free press.
The kids like to say “Good Morning” to me. This is regardless of the time of day. They are also interested in America, and where I come from. Mostly, because Rhode Island is only 3 hours away from New York. I was asked if I had children back in the states, or a wife, which is funny to hear as a 23 year-old American, but at this age here, I would most likely be married and have started a family.
I had a few days to settle in, before school started for me, on Wednesday, the 23rd. I enjoyed my first class with the new students. It was funny, we had a reading about newspapers, and for one of the answers to what we need when there is a story, a student responded “redactors.” I had trouble not laughing, but in his defense, the Ukrainian word for editor, sounds like redactor. It was just funny to hear in a country with a relatively new free press.
The kids like to say “Good Morning” to me. This is regardless of the time of day. They are also interested in America, and where I come from. Mostly, because Rhode Island is only 3 hours away from New York. I was asked if I had children back in the states, or a wife, which is funny to hear as a 23 year-old American, but at this age here, I would most likely be married and have started a family.
I will continue with more later, but I am getting a bit tired. I will also take some photographs, but I will wait for tomorrow. We are having a snow-storm right now, and I want to wait until the gray, disgusting slushy snow is covered by new fresh coating of white.
Also, for the record, I am cooking for myself, everyday. Also, I found a place that sells hot dogs, which is a nice taste of home every now and then.
Also, for the record, I am cooking for myself, everyday. Also, I found a place that sells hot dogs, which is a nice taste of home every now and then.
Goodbye, and Go Friars,
Pete
Swearing-In Retreat
This brings us to our Swearing-In Retreat in Kyiv. The retreat lasted from Monday the 14th until Thursday the 17th, when we were sworn in by the United States Ambassador to Ukraine, John F. Teftt.
The Swearing-In Retreat was full of meetings about everything imaginable. We were first given our regions where we will be living for the next two years. As I mentioned in my last post, my new home is Zhmerinka, a town of about 37,000 in central Ukraine. It is home to a very large train station, and has lines that go to Kyiv, Lviv, Odessa, and Simferopol, the cities I most want to visit while I am here. I am only 4 hours from Kyiv. Lviv and Odessa are between 6 and 7 hours, and Simferopol is far, but it is nice that it is accessible from here. My region of Ukraine is called Region 3. It includes the oblasts (Ukrainian districts similar to states or provinces), Kyivska, Vinnistka, Khelmitska, and there may be one more, but I am not sure.
The retreat was a great place to catch up with some old friends, and make some new ones. I was able to reconnect with all the Turkmenistan rejects which was a nice thing. I was also able to make new friends, I hope I'm able to keep in touch with even though we've been placed around the country. I went to my first cafe in Ukraine. It was basically a party tent with windows and a door, a bar, and a space heater. It was enjoyable people watching as well. The only regrettable aspect was that we had to be back in our dorm, and on our floor by 11:00 PM or we would be locked out.
The second day of our retreat we met our new counterparts. Our counterpart is a Ukrainian partner that we work closely with. Mine is an English teacher at School # 3, here in Zhmerinka.
We were able to spend some time together as well. This was followed by more and more meetings, about what I can't remember at this time.
Wednesday our time was spent undergoing PEPFAR training. PEPFAR is the United States President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief. Quite possibly President Bush's greatest achievement during his term of office (though my friend Sam said there wasn't much to compare it to). This was designed to educate volunteers about HIV/AIDS and teach us some strategies about how to work in lessons on this topic. HIV/AIDS is a big problem in Ukraine. Ukraine has the highest infection rate outside of Africa. It is going to be an important part of service to help bring this to light, and avoidance topics.
Thursday, however, was the big day. It was the day of our official Swearing-In Ceremony. The ceremony was only about an hour long. Unfortunately, it was at 12:00 PM. Thus, my host-family from Kaharlyk was unable to attend, which was a bit sad. It was however, a very enjoyable ceremony. It was done in both English and Ukrainian. And, to be honest, I am extremely impressed with the translator's skills. Some of the speakers made long, complex thoughts before pausing to allow her time to translate but she was very good. The culmination of this ceremony was being given the Volunteer Oath. This was directed by the Ambassador. In complete honesty, and not a bit of irony, it brought my close to tears; taking an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America. The full text is as follows:
“I, Peter Michael Meegan, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties in the Peace Corps of the United States of America, serving Ukraine to the best my abilities and demonstrating the respect and consideration due its people. So help me God.”
This was followed by a round of applause and hugs/handshakes from our counterparts. It is common practice in Ukraine that men only shake hands with men, and women do not shake hands, so there were more hugs than handshakes. An oath to the United States of America is a humbling experience for me. I have such faith in the ideal of America that it was hard not to get choked up in the process of swearing my support and defense.
The Swearing-In Ceremony was followed by a short reception. We had to load our buses by 4:00 PM, though, so I only stayed for a little bit, and then got ready to load the bus and say goodbye to friends. There was a large snow-storm that hit Ukraine the day of our ceremony. It was snowing very hard in Kyiv, as well. After loading the bus, and pulling away from our dorm around 4:30 PM, we ended up stuck in traffic for two and a half hours. A large bus full of volunteers missed all of their respective trains. This sent us back to the dorm for one more night.
We decided to celebrate by eating Chinese food from a restaurant across the street from where we were. It was funny to have so many Americans in one place, trying to speak broken Ukrainian/Russian. One of my friends, knew Mandarin, so he was trying to speak Mandarin, and then finally the waiter attempted English, it was funny, delicious, and also more expensive than we expected. About $5.00 – 7.00 USD which is rather high amount here. After dinner we ended up back at the dorm, and sat around talking, shooting the breeze, listening to music, and having a beer.
And that's all I have to say about that!
Pete
The Swearing-In Retreat was full of meetings about everything imaginable. We were first given our regions where we will be living for the next two years. As I mentioned in my last post, my new home is Zhmerinka, a town of about 37,000 in central Ukraine. It is home to a very large train station, and has lines that go to Kyiv, Lviv, Odessa, and Simferopol, the cities I most want to visit while I am here. I am only 4 hours from Kyiv. Lviv and Odessa are between 6 and 7 hours, and Simferopol is far, but it is nice that it is accessible from here. My region of Ukraine is called Region 3. It includes the oblasts (Ukrainian districts similar to states or provinces), Kyivska, Vinnistka, Khelmitska, and there may be one more, but I am not sure.
The retreat was a great place to catch up with some old friends, and make some new ones. I was able to reconnect with all the Turkmenistan rejects which was a nice thing. I was also able to make new friends, I hope I'm able to keep in touch with even though we've been placed around the country. I went to my first cafe in Ukraine. It was basically a party tent with windows and a door, a bar, and a space heater. It was enjoyable people watching as well. The only regrettable aspect was that we had to be back in our dorm, and on our floor by 11:00 PM or we would be locked out.
The second day of our retreat we met our new counterparts. Our counterpart is a Ukrainian partner that we work closely with. Mine is an English teacher at School # 3, here in Zhmerinka.
We were able to spend some time together as well. This was followed by more and more meetings, about what I can't remember at this time.
Wednesday our time was spent undergoing PEPFAR training. PEPFAR is the United States President's Emergency Plan For AIDS Relief. Quite possibly President Bush's greatest achievement during his term of office (though my friend Sam said there wasn't much to compare it to). This was designed to educate volunteers about HIV/AIDS and teach us some strategies about how to work in lessons on this topic. HIV/AIDS is a big problem in Ukraine. Ukraine has the highest infection rate outside of Africa. It is going to be an important part of service to help bring this to light, and avoidance topics.
Thursday, however, was the big day. It was the day of our official Swearing-In Ceremony. The ceremony was only about an hour long. Unfortunately, it was at 12:00 PM. Thus, my host-family from Kaharlyk was unable to attend, which was a bit sad. It was however, a very enjoyable ceremony. It was done in both English and Ukrainian. And, to be honest, I am extremely impressed with the translator's skills. Some of the speakers made long, complex thoughts before pausing to allow her time to translate but she was very good. The culmination of this ceremony was being given the Volunteer Oath. This was directed by the Ambassador. In complete honesty, and not a bit of irony, it brought my close to tears; taking an oath to support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America. The full text is as follows:
“I, Peter Michael Meegan, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend the Constitution of the United States of America against all enemies, foreign and domestic, and that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same, that I take this obligation freely, without any mental reservation or purpose of evasion, and that I will well and faithfully discharge my duties in the Peace Corps of the United States of America, serving Ukraine to the best my abilities and demonstrating the respect and consideration due its people. So help me God.”
This was followed by a round of applause and hugs/handshakes from our counterparts. It is common practice in Ukraine that men only shake hands with men, and women do not shake hands, so there were more hugs than handshakes. An oath to the United States of America is a humbling experience for me. I have such faith in the ideal of America that it was hard not to get choked up in the process of swearing my support and defense.
The Swearing-In Ceremony was followed by a short reception. We had to load our buses by 4:00 PM, though, so I only stayed for a little bit, and then got ready to load the bus and say goodbye to friends. There was a large snow-storm that hit Ukraine the day of our ceremony. It was snowing very hard in Kyiv, as well. After loading the bus, and pulling away from our dorm around 4:30 PM, we ended up stuck in traffic for two and a half hours. A large bus full of volunteers missed all of their respective trains. This sent us back to the dorm for one more night.
We decided to celebrate by eating Chinese food from a restaurant across the street from where we were. It was funny to have so many Americans in one place, trying to speak broken Ukrainian/Russian. One of my friends, knew Mandarin, so he was trying to speak Mandarin, and then finally the waiter attempted English, it was funny, delicious, and also more expensive than we expected. About $5.00 – 7.00 USD which is rather high amount here. After dinner we ended up back at the dorm, and sat around talking, shooting the breeze, listening to music, and having a beer.
And that's all I have to say about that!
Pete
The Last Weeks of Training, and Trainee-ism
Good afternoon, good evening, and good night! After a long delay I am back at it: recording my innermost thoughts for the sake of posterity. It is, today, Wednesday, December 22. Happy Birthday Pat Mulligan, you are one step closer to that big three zero, thirty, for those not mathematically aware. I am in a new town named Zhmerinka in the Vinnystka Oblast of central Ukraine. But, before I write about where I am, let me write about where I've been . . . isn't nostalgia terrific?
Since I left you last a lot has occurred. We will start with my last week in Kaharlyk. This was a whirl-wind week. My group had a meeting with the English teachers of School Number 3 where we had been teaching, the Director (Principal), and local media representatives. We were treated to tea, coffee, buterbrod, which is basically an open-faced sandwich, and delicious tsukerkies, delicious candies usually chocolates which are bountiful in this country. During this meeting, we started by thanking the teachers for allowing us their classrooms, students, and sharing with us their experience in teaching the English. As we all know, or should, teaching a language is a lot more difficult than speaking it. This followed with a poem from the Director. At some point I will send home a translation, and a copy of the article that appeared in the local paper, but for those of you familiar with my native North Kingstown School Department, the Director of our school was very similar to Mr. Merkle at vice-principal at Wickford Middle School. Around the same height, he also had the same very confident, under-control stature that was so intimidating to the 6th, 7th, and 8th grader I was. But, as with Mr. Merkle, the Director was a very kind, helpful, and capable administrator. Assisted by the rhyming case endings of the Ukrainian language, the poem, “Parting,” surprised, and was a very accurate account of the stages of our integration, and our sad parting with Kaharlyk.
This was,luckily, the first time I was able to enjoy a Ukrainian birthday party. My host mother had her birthday, which here in Ukraine is a very big deal. She spen the entire day before preparing fantastic food, chicken cutlets (which are like chicken nuggets, only better) holuptsi, which are rice and meat wrapped in a boiled cabbage leaf, also delicious. Various salads, all heavy with mayo. A million dishes, that there was barely room for our plates, and shot glasses.Of course, it is important to toast, and drink vodka for a birthday. We went around the table giving our toasts. I got to practice in Ukrainian "I wish you a year of happiness, peace, and love." And, even better, the Ukrainians loved our old toast from college "I'm never above you, never below you, but always besides you." My host sister, Valeriya translated this for me, because it was a little more complex than I knew the words for, but they were very impressed. The last thing we did was enjoy the famous Kyivski Tort. This is a very popular cake here in Ukraine. While enjoying the cake and talking, I found out that during Soviet times this cake costs 3.50UAH. it is now a 70 UAH cake (UAH is Hryvnia the Ukrainian currency). But, the point, is that it is basically unaffordable now. And only on the most special occasions do people eat this cake.
This was followed by much studying for our LPI, language proficiency interview. This interview is the culmination of training, and the way our language skills are evaluated. From this interview we are scored on a chart based on our competency. Coming to Ukraine three weeks after the rest of my group, scoring Intermediate Low was not too disappointing for me. Of course I would have preferred to do better, I have nothing but time to improve. This studying took up long expanses of time for the rest of the week, until we finally had our interview on Thursday the 10th. This should have been the end of our work, but on Friday we had to perform a seminar for the English teachers of the Kaharlyk region.
Unbeknownst to us, our seminar for the teachers of the region, became an add-on to a course of study in which young teachers observe lessons of more experienced English teachers in the region. My host-mother, the English Language Methodologist for the region was also in attendance. We first observed a lesson which was, in all actuality, a production to impress the methodologist. The lesson was clearly something that had been practiced for a long time, and only the best and brightest pupils were in this class, making a little more difficult to see how the activities would work for an average class. But, after this lesson we were able to give our seminar. We had expected a big crowd, but we only ended up with 6 young teachers in attendance, it turned out that even the teachers we had worked with at School Number 3 had not known when this final seminar would take place, and it was during the school day so they would not have been able to attend. The seminar was designed to give teachers strategies for teaching without textbooks. This is something that had to be dealt with, here in Ukraine. There is no guarantees that textbooks will arrive on time, or even that an entire class will all have the same textbook. The seminar focused on activities that would help the students with their communication, and be easy to perform with no textbooks. We used activities like “Taboo” and various others. This, too, was a learning experience. We did the seminar completely in English, thinking, that as English teachers the audience would be completely fluent. This, however, was not the case. We should have simplified our language, and spent more time on the activities less time explaining them. Once finished with this seminar we were again treated to tea, buterbrod, tsukerkies, and the like. It was quite a spread, one which I have been given frequently, and enjoyed every time.
Our time in Kaharlyk officially ended, on Monday morning, December 14. First, however we had a little appreciation dinner for our host families. It turned out that the two men in our group proved our domestic streak. We prepared deruny, or potato pancakes, home made apple sauce, and Aidan also prepared a fritatta-like dish, with a bit more bread. It was an enjoyable night. The end of this, our language instructor asked the host-families the funniest thing that happened while we were living with them. My host mother told a story of when she had called me to pick up matches. She asked in English, and of course, I was more than happy to oblige. I forgot that I didn't know the word for matches in Ukrainian. A group-mate remembered, and told me. I asked the lady at the cash desk for matches, sirniky, but she had no clue what I was talking about (I later found out that almost exclusively use the Russian word, speechkey). Being a little nervous, hurried, and embarrassed it was taking so long I started asking for malenkey pozhezha, then pointing at cigarettes. After a while the clerk understood, but she had trouble initially, because I was asking her for a small conflagration, something which made no sense.
This was the end of Kaharlyk, and on Monday morning December 14th , we were picked up by a bus and made our way to Kyiv to our Swearing-In Retreat.
This was the end of Kaharlyk, and on Monday morning December 14th , we were picked up by a bus and made our way to Kyiv to our Swearing-In Retreat.
That's what I'm saying!
Pete
The Last Weeks of Training, and Trainee-ism
Good afternoon, good evening, and good night! After a long delay I am back at it: recording my innermost thoughts for the sake of posterity. It is, today, Wednesday, December 22. Happy Birthday Pat Mulligan, you are one step closer to that big three zero, thirty, for those not mathematically aware. I am in a new town named Zhmerinka in the Vinnystka Oblast of central Ukraine. But, before I write about where I am, let me write about where I've been . . . isn't nostalgia terrific?
Since I left you last a lot has occurred. We will start with my last week in Kaharlyk. This was a whirl-wind week. My group had a meeting with the English teachers of School Number 3 where we had been teaching, the Director (Principal), and local media representatives. We were treated to tea, coffee, buterbrod, which is basically an open-faced sandwich, and delicious tsukerkies, delicious candies usually chocolates which are bountiful in this country. During this meeting, we started by thanking the teachers for allowing us their classrooms, students, and sharing with us their experience in teaching the English. As we all know, or should, teaching a language is a lot more difficult than speaking it. This followed with a poem from the Director. At some point I will send home a translation, and a copy of the article that appeared in the local paper, but for those of you familiar with my native North Kingstown School Department, the Director of our school was very similar to Mr. Merkle at vice-principal at Wickford Middle School. Around the same height, he also had the same very confident, under-control stature that was so intimidating to the 6th, 7th, and 8th grader I was. But, as with Mr. Merkle, the Director was a very kind, helpful, and capable administrator. Assisted by the rhyming case endings of the Ukrainian language, the poem, “Parting,” surprised, and was a very accurate account of the stages of our integration, and our sad parting with Kaharlyk.
This was,luckily, the first time I was able to enjoy a Ukrainian birthday party. My host mother had her birthday, which here in Ukraine is a very big deal. She spen the entire day before preparing fantastic food, chicken cutlets (which are like chicken nuggets, only better) holuptsi, which are rice and meat wrapped in a boiled cabbage leaf, also delicious. Various salads, all heavy with mayo. A million dishes, that there was barely room for our plates, and shot glasses.Of course, it is important to toast, and drink vodka for a birthday. We went around the table giving our toasts. I got to practice in Ukrainian "I wish you a year of happiness, peace, and love." And, even better, the Ukrainians loved our old toast from college "I'm never above you, never below you, but always besides you." My host sister, Valeriya translated this for me, because it was a little more complex than I knew the words for, but they were very impressed. The last thing we did was enjoy the famous Kyivski Tort. This is a very popular cake here in Ukraine. While enjoying the cake and talking, I found out that during Soviet times this cake costs 3.50UAH. it is now a 70 UAH cake (UAH is Hryvnia the Ukrainian currency). But, the point, is that it is basically unaffordable now. And only on the most special occasions do people eat this cake.
This was followed by much studying for our LPI, language proficiency interview. This interview is the culmination of training, and the way our language skills are evaluated. From this interview we are scored on a chart based on our competency. Coming to Ukraine three weeks after the rest of my group, scoring Intermediate Low was not too disappointing for me. Of course I would have preferred to do better, I have nothing but time to improve. This studying took up long expanses of time for the rest of the week, until we finally had our interview on Thursday the 10th. This should have been the end of our work, but on Friday we had to perform a seminar for the English teachers of the Kaharlyk region.
Unbeknownst to us, our seminar for the teachers of the region, became an add-on to a course of study in which young teachers observe lessons of more experienced English teachers in the region. My host-mother, the English Language Methodologist for the region was also in attendance. We first observed a lesson which was, in all actuality, a production to impress the methodologist. The lesson was clearly something that had been practiced for a long time, and only the best and brightest pupils were in this class, making a little more difficult to see how the activities would work for an average class. But, after this lesson we were able to give our seminar. We had expected a big crowd, but we only ended up with 6 young teachers in attendance, it turned out that even the teachers we had worked with at School Number 3 had not known when this final seminar would take place, and it was during the school day so they would not have been able to attend. The seminar was designed to give teachers strategies for teaching without textbooks. This is something that had to be dealt with, here in Ukraine. There is no guarantees that textbooks will arrive on time, or even that an entire class will all have the same textbook. The seminar focused on activities that would help the students with their communication, and be easy to perform with no textbooks. We used activities like “Taboo” and various others. This, too, was a learning experience. We did the seminar completely in English, thinking, that as English teachers the audience would be completely fluent. This, however, was not the case. We should have simplified our language, and spent more time on the activities less time explaining them. Once finished with this seminar we were again treated to tea, buterbrod, tsukerkies, and the like. It was quite a spread, one which I have been given frequently, and enjoyed every time.
Our time in Kaharlyk officially ended, on Monday morning, December 14. First, however we had a little appreciation dinner for our host families. It turned out that the two men in our group proved our domestic streak. We prepared deruny, or potato pancakes, home made apple sauce, and Aidan also prepared a fritatta-like dish, with a bit more bread. It was an enjoyable night. The end of this, our language instructor asked the host-families the funniest thing that happened while we were living with them. My host mother told a story of when she had called me to pick up matches. She asked in English, and of course, I was more than happy to oblige. I forgot that I didn't know the word for matches in Ukrainian. A group-mate remembered, and told me. I asked the lady at the cash desk for matches, sirniky, but she had no clue what I was talking about (I later found out that almost exclusively use the Russian word, speechkey). Being a little nervous, hurried, and embarrassed it was taking so long I started asking for malenkey pozhezha, then pointing at cigarettes. After a while the clerk understood, but she had trouble initially, because I was asking her for a small conflagration, something which made no sense.
This was the end of Kaharlyk, and on Monday morning December 14th , we were picked up by a bus and made our way to Kyiv to our Swearing-In Retreat.
That's what I'm saying!
Pete
Since I left you last a lot has occurred. We will start with my last week in Kaharlyk. This was a whirl-wind week. My group had a meeting with the English teachers of School Number 3 where we had been teaching, the Director (Principal), and local media representatives. We were treated to tea, coffee, buterbrod, which is basically an open-faced sandwich, and delicious tsukerkies, delicious candies usually chocolates which are bountiful in this country. During this meeting, we started by thanking the teachers for allowing us their classrooms, students, and sharing with us their experience in teaching the English. As we all know, or should, teaching a language is a lot more difficult than speaking it. This followed with a poem from the Director. At some point I will send home a translation, and a copy of the article that appeared in the local paper, but for those of you familiar with my native North Kingstown School Department, the Director of our school was very similar to Mr. Merkle at vice-principal at Wickford Middle School. Around the same height, he also had the same very confident, under-control stature that was so intimidating to the 6th, 7th, and 8th grader I was. But, as with Mr. Merkle, the Director was a very kind, helpful, and capable administrator. Assisted by the rhyming case endings of the Ukrainian language, the poem, “Parting,” surprised, and was a very accurate account of the stages of our integration, and our sad parting with Kaharlyk.
This was,luckily, the first time I was able to enjoy a Ukrainian birthday party. My host mother had her birthday, which here in Ukraine is a very big deal. She spen the entire day before preparing fantastic food, chicken cutlets (which are like chicken nuggets, only better) holuptsi, which are rice and meat wrapped in a boiled cabbage leaf, also delicious. Various salads, all heavy with mayo. A million dishes, that there was barely room for our plates, and shot glasses.Of course, it is important to toast, and drink vodka for a birthday. We went around the table giving our toasts. I got to practice in Ukrainian "I wish you a year of happiness, peace, and love." And, even better, the Ukrainians loved our old toast from college "I'm never above you, never below you, but always besides you." My host sister, Valeriya translated this for me, because it was a little more complex than I knew the words for, but they were very impressed. The last thing we did was enjoy the famous Kyivski Tort. This is a very popular cake here in Ukraine. While enjoying the cake and talking, I found out that during Soviet times this cake costs 3.50UAH. it is now a 70 UAH cake (UAH is Hryvnia the Ukrainian currency). But, the point, is that it is basically unaffordable now. And only on the most special occasions do people eat this cake.
This was followed by much studying for our LPI, language proficiency interview. This interview is the culmination of training, and the way our language skills are evaluated. From this interview we are scored on a chart based on our competency. Coming to Ukraine three weeks after the rest of my group, scoring Intermediate Low was not too disappointing for me. Of course I would have preferred to do better, I have nothing but time to improve. This studying took up long expanses of time for the rest of the week, until we finally had our interview on Thursday the 10th. This should have been the end of our work, but on Friday we had to perform a seminar for the English teachers of the Kaharlyk region.
Unbeknownst to us, our seminar for the teachers of the region, became an add-on to a course of study in which young teachers observe lessons of more experienced English teachers in the region. My host-mother, the English Language Methodologist for the region was also in attendance. We first observed a lesson which was, in all actuality, a production to impress the methodologist. The lesson was clearly something that had been practiced for a long time, and only the best and brightest pupils were in this class, making a little more difficult to see how the activities would work for an average class. But, after this lesson we were able to give our seminar. We had expected a big crowd, but we only ended up with 6 young teachers in attendance, it turned out that even the teachers we had worked with at School Number 3 had not known when this final seminar would take place, and it was during the school day so they would not have been able to attend. The seminar was designed to give teachers strategies for teaching without textbooks. This is something that had to be dealt with, here in Ukraine. There is no guarantees that textbooks will arrive on time, or even that an entire class will all have the same textbook. The seminar focused on activities that would help the students with their communication, and be easy to perform with no textbooks. We used activities like “Taboo” and various others. This, too, was a learning experience. We did the seminar completely in English, thinking, that as English teachers the audience would be completely fluent. This, however, was not the case. We should have simplified our language, and spent more time on the activities less time explaining them. Once finished with this seminar we were again treated to tea, buterbrod, tsukerkies, and the like. It was quite a spread, one which I have been given frequently, and enjoyed every time.
Our time in Kaharlyk officially ended, on Monday morning, December 14. First, however we had a little appreciation dinner for our host families. It turned out that the two men in our group proved our domestic streak. We prepared deruny, or potato pancakes, home made apple sauce, and Aidan also prepared a fritatta-like dish, with a bit more bread. It was an enjoyable night. The end of this, our language instructor asked the host-families the funniest thing that happened while we were living with them. My host mother told a story of when she had called me to pick up matches. She asked in English, and of course, I was more than happy to oblige. I forgot that I didn't know the word for matches in Ukrainian. A group-mate remembered, and told me. I asked the lady at the cash desk for matches, sirniky, but she had no clue what I was talking about (I later found out that almost exclusively use the Russian word, speechkey). Being a little nervous, hurried, and embarrassed it was taking so long I started asking for malenkey pozhezha, then pointing at cigarettes. After a while the clerk understood, but she had trouble initially, because I was asking her for a small conflagration, something which made no sense.
This was the end of Kaharlyk, and on Monday morning December 14th , we were picked up by a bus and made our way to Kyiv to our Swearing-In Retreat.
That's what I'm saying!
Pete
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
A Bit about the History of Kaharlyk
Today, Saturday, December 5th, our cluster took a tour of the museum in our little town, Kaharlyk. The first weekend I arrived in Kaharlyk my host mother promised we would see it at some point, and this was something I looked forward to. I pass this building on my walk into the center of town everyday. It is not, and has never seemed, like much to look at. The building in the museum is a very nondescript and unassuming . . . and, to be honest, I did not expect much from this museum in the small town an hour or so outside of Kyiv.
We, or at least two of us, but I assume all, were shocked when we saw the museum, and its contents. None of us had expected anything out of the ordinary, just some minor artifacts, of important thigs in town history . . . More than answering questions, the museum showed us where Kaharlyk stood in the sense of world history . . . and opened up many more questions.
In terms of the building: In the mid-1700s (or so, I am doing this by memory, so don't get all uppity if the date is off) Catherine the Great decided she would take a vacation on the Black Sea in Crimea. To get there, she would travel down the Dnipro. One of her stops along the way was Kaharlyk. The building in which the museum now resides was used as a rest house for the servants of Catherine on their way down to Crimea. She brought some crazy number with here around one thousand, and three thousand . . . something absurd. The building after this was used as a post office, a guard house, a rest house, and a Jewish synagogue. I'm sure there are other roles that I have failed to remember, but that's what I can recall.
We started in the small foyer of the museum. This foyer was decorated with beautiful bucolic scenes; the natural beauty of rural Ukraine. These paintings were of both pastures, and the river front (the river is the Dnipro, or Dnierper). Under these painints were birds preserved by taxidermy. There were two sections, one for birds by the river, other for birds of the fields. These were very impressive, and included ducks, a sea-gull, a plethora of small birds, and one of the largest crows I have ever seen. It was massive to the point I cannot describe. What was more impressive about these birds, is that they truly were gathered within the region, by two young boys from the town. In this foyer, there was also two figures, and typical "babusiya" and "dideuce" dressed in traditional Ukrainian designs. They were very impressive as well. . . and had typical tools of the trade, a spinning wheel, and a tool for gathering and beating wheat.
The next scene was a map of our park . . . It was impressive to see the smaller version of it, with the pond mapped out, the hills, the bridge (which we will come back to), and the monuments all clearly defined. We also found out, that right where some of the main monuments stand now there was once a beautiful mansion. This mansion was destroyed by the Germans during World War II. The park was designed to show everything of natural beauty in the world. There was water, for the ocean, hills to signify mountains, a field, many trees, and it is still a beautiful park.
This brought us to the next exhibit. The next exhibit was more paraphanalia of Kaharlyk's past, and also and explanation of the name. Kaharlyk is a Mongul, not Ukrainian name. The name comes from Kaha, the name of a high ranking mongul, and Arlyk which was the name for a deed of ownership. This was shortened to Kaharlyk. There were also artifacts from Kyivan Rus a kindom that started around the 10th or 11th century. (There is a monument in town that claims 1185 as the founding date of the town).
Skipping over an exhibit of peasant dress, the next period I'll discuss is communist times. Our guide, the curator of the museum (who, though she has two higher educations still only recieves a very modest salary) said that though many bad things happened during communist times, it is a part of our history, and we will remember it, because it happened. She mentioned at one of the exhibits that during the late 80s she had showed an American around the museum. The man was not very interested, until coming to the portion which showed communist times. One thing that he asked our guide was about the great famine. In the 1930s 5 million people in Ukraine, and 7 million people in the entired Soviet Union died because of forced rationing of grains. This, in some textbooks is equated with Margaret Thatcher's bitter pill - a necessary evil of collectivization - but, especially more recently it has become more clear that this was a false famine caused to weaken the people that the Soviet Union governed, and, as indicated by the numbers above, the majority of the suffering occurred in Ukraine. Our guide, and keep in mind this was while the Soviet Union was still in existence, told the American when he asked that she definitely believed it was a false famine. He asked her how she could be so bold to say such a thing. He asked not because he did not agree with her, but because she could be put in prison for saying something like this; before democray, before independence. She agreed, because she had documentation to support these facts, and truly a brave soul, she would not refute facts she knew to be true. A documentary was made by this American, it is a documentary I would love to see.
Our final section was based around the Second World War. This room was full of the slogan "Nobody forgotten - nothing forgotten". There were pictures of Ukrainian heroes of the Great Patriotic War, as well as medals that would have been given out by the USSR to soldiers, for achievement and bravery. This room was full of the propanganda posters created by Moscow which were also provocative. We also learned that Nazis (they are usually referred to as fascists here) occupied this part of Ukraine, including Kaharlyk for around two years. They were responsible for the destruction of the mansion. As I mentioned before, in our park there is a beautiful bridge, that leads over a shallow ravine. During World War II, over 700 people in Kaharlyk were killed by the nazis. They were forced to strip off their clothes, stand on the bridge naked, and they were shot, killed, and dumped into the ravine. This was especially chilling. Something I, for one, had no idea of. I think this is, however, an example of how interconnected simple places in Europe are with history.
And this, friends, is where my little story ends. I did not expect it to be so long, so my apologies, but goodnight, and Go Friars.
We, or at least two of us, but I assume all, were shocked when we saw the museum, and its contents. None of us had expected anything out of the ordinary, just some minor artifacts, of important thigs in town history . . . More than answering questions, the museum showed us where Kaharlyk stood in the sense of world history . . . and opened up many more questions.
In terms of the building: In the mid-1700s (or so, I am doing this by memory, so don't get all uppity if the date is off) Catherine the Great decided she would take a vacation on the Black Sea in Crimea. To get there, she would travel down the Dnipro. One of her stops along the way was Kaharlyk. The building in which the museum now resides was used as a rest house for the servants of Catherine on their way down to Crimea. She brought some crazy number with here around one thousand, and three thousand . . . something absurd. The building after this was used as a post office, a guard house, a rest house, and a Jewish synagogue. I'm sure there are other roles that I have failed to remember, but that's what I can recall.
We started in the small foyer of the museum. This foyer was decorated with beautiful bucolic scenes; the natural beauty of rural Ukraine. These paintings were of both pastures, and the river front (the river is the Dnipro, or Dnierper). Under these painints were birds preserved by taxidermy. There were two sections, one for birds by the river, other for birds of the fields. These were very impressive, and included ducks, a sea-gull, a plethora of small birds, and one of the largest crows I have ever seen. It was massive to the point I cannot describe. What was more impressive about these birds, is that they truly were gathered within the region, by two young boys from the town. In this foyer, there was also two figures, and typical "babusiya" and "dideuce" dressed in traditional Ukrainian designs. They were very impressive as well. . . and had typical tools of the trade, a spinning wheel, and a tool for gathering and beating wheat.
The next scene was a map of our park . . . It was impressive to see the smaller version of it, with the pond mapped out, the hills, the bridge (which we will come back to), and the monuments all clearly defined. We also found out, that right where some of the main monuments stand now there was once a beautiful mansion. This mansion was destroyed by the Germans during World War II. The park was designed to show everything of natural beauty in the world. There was water, for the ocean, hills to signify mountains, a field, many trees, and it is still a beautiful park.
This brought us to the next exhibit. The next exhibit was more paraphanalia of Kaharlyk's past, and also and explanation of the name. Kaharlyk is a Mongul, not Ukrainian name. The name comes from Kaha, the name of a high ranking mongul, and Arlyk which was the name for a deed of ownership. This was shortened to Kaharlyk. There were also artifacts from Kyivan Rus a kindom that started around the 10th or 11th century. (There is a monument in town that claims 1185 as the founding date of the town).
Skipping over an exhibit of peasant dress, the next period I'll discuss is communist times. Our guide, the curator of the museum (who, though she has two higher educations still only recieves a very modest salary) said that though many bad things happened during communist times, it is a part of our history, and we will remember it, because it happened. She mentioned at one of the exhibits that during the late 80s she had showed an American around the museum. The man was not very interested, until coming to the portion which showed communist times. One thing that he asked our guide was about the great famine. In the 1930s 5 million people in Ukraine, and 7 million people in the entired Soviet Union died because of forced rationing of grains. This, in some textbooks is equated with Margaret Thatcher's bitter pill - a necessary evil of collectivization - but, especially more recently it has become more clear that this was a false famine caused to weaken the people that the Soviet Union governed, and, as indicated by the numbers above, the majority of the suffering occurred in Ukraine. Our guide, and keep in mind this was while the Soviet Union was still in existence, told the American when he asked that she definitely believed it was a false famine. He asked her how she could be so bold to say such a thing. He asked not because he did not agree with her, but because she could be put in prison for saying something like this; before democray, before independence. She agreed, because she had documentation to support these facts, and truly a brave soul, she would not refute facts she knew to be true. A documentary was made by this American, it is a documentary I would love to see.
Our final section was based around the Second World War. This room was full of the slogan "Nobody forgotten - nothing forgotten". There were pictures of Ukrainian heroes of the Great Patriotic War, as well as medals that would have been given out by the USSR to soldiers, for achievement and bravery. This room was full of the propanganda posters created by Moscow which were also provocative. We also learned that Nazis (they are usually referred to as fascists here) occupied this part of Ukraine, including Kaharlyk for around two years. They were responsible for the destruction of the mansion. As I mentioned before, in our park there is a beautiful bridge, that leads over a shallow ravine. During World War II, over 700 people in Kaharlyk were killed by the nazis. They were forced to strip off their clothes, stand on the bridge naked, and they were shot, killed, and dumped into the ravine. This was especially chilling. Something I, for one, had no idea of. I think this is, however, an example of how interconnected simple places in Europe are with history.
And this, friends, is where my little story ends. I did not expect it to be so long, so my apologies, but goodnight, and Go Friars.
Life During PST
Life During Pre-Service Training
Contrary to what I tell people, I am not actually a Peace Corps Volunteer. I will not be a Peace Corps Volunteer until December 17. This is two weeks away from me (I am writing on Wednesday, December 2). Training life, from what I hear is different from the life of a regular volunteer. It is busy, it is stressful, and the work seems to be almost endless. Luckily, at this point, I have taught my last lesson of Training, so I will have some semblance of enough time in the average day. The past two weeks I have gotten a full night's sleep only once or twice. The rest of the time has been sent lesson planning, preparing materials for lessons, studying Ukrainian, Ukrainian class, watching my clustermates teach, and doing a lot of work on a Community Involvement Project we have organized . . . a conference for English teachers about teaching English without textbooks, and providing some activites which may be effective for their classes.
Sunday is our only free day each week. However, even on this free "Reflection day" I usually have two or three hours of work to do. My patience, work-ethic and sanity have definitey been tested during the past month and a half. Personally, my situation has been compounded by the fact that I arrived three weeks after the rest of the class, so I constantly am behind and trying to catch up. Luckily, though, the members of my cluster have been very helpful and accomadating for me. I hope the other Turkmenistan rejects have been treated as well.
Overall I am happy and in good spirits. However, the past month and half, for me, has been a study in the polarity of human emotion. I have incredible days in which nothing goes wrong, and then I have days when I just can't bring myself to do work. It is interesting how light my bad feels on my 20 - 30 minute walk on the good days, to how heavy it feels on the same walk on the tough days. I am sure it is a common part of adjusting to a new culture and community to sometimes feel isolation. It can be difficult knowing that my friends and family are a continent and ocean away.
One of my salvations has been my good old American music. I have been listening to a lot of country music since I've been here, and all the bluegrass that I have. Ryan Bingham, and Sam Bush have been on an almost constant loop lately, and Eric Church and Dierks Bentley are frequently thrown in the mix. Pop music sounds like pop music anywhere, as does the rock/alternative . . . it is country music that brings me home, and reminds me of America. It has truly been a saving grace. I just love songs about open doors, trains and leaving, I always have. . . Perhaps that is what sent me so many miles from home.
In my limited free time I have been reading. The last book I read was The Great Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux. It is the story of a train trip which started in London, and went southeast through Europe to Turkey and around Asia. I am now reading Ghost Train to the Eastern Star a book in which Theroux revisits his inital journey thirty three years later. They are fascinating books, and I have really enjoyed them. It is comforting to read the stories of someone else out of their comfort zone, and out of their comfort zone by choice. Interacting and observing the way people in the world live. It is also funny, that in describing travellers he has very nearly pin-pointed some of my characteristics, or perhaps character flaws is a better word. Particularly the vanity, and self-indulgence travel like mine allows. Even only a month and a half into my stay I am positive this has been much more real an experience than any study abroad program which bases itself in a big city at an open-minded university. I am in a small village in Ukraine (read the REAL UKRAINE). It is true, I think, that even many travellers do not truly see the places to which they travel. Staying in resorts, and in big cities gives us a sterialized, and commercialized version of the particular places we want to see. And, while this version is undoubtably enjoyable, it is not the truth . . . but, then again, tourism as a business is generally one big smoke-screen. An effort to make a good first impression. A city doing the same thing a person does when they meet someone new.
My apologies for the inconsistency in these posts, and in the inconsistencies of the topics I write about therein. Everything in a post is somewhat related, albeit perhaps very, very loosely. But, I refuse to proofread these, and will not edit what comes out to start with, that is a warning I gave at the beginning. Whammy. This is about all I know for now, and if you have the patience to read all of this, and all of these posts, then God bless you, because I sure as hell wouldn't . . . except while I was still waiting to leave, trying to learn what it was like.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars!
Pete
Life During PST
Life During Pre-Service Training
Contrary to what I tell people, I am not actually a Peace Corps Volunteer. I will not be a Peace Corps Volunteer until December 17. This is two weeks away from me (I am writing on Wednesday, December 2). Training life, from what I hear is different from the life of a regular volunteer. It is busy, it is stressful, and the work seems to be almost endless. Luckily, at this point, I have taught my last lesson of Training, so I will have some semblance of enough time in the average day. The past two weeks I have gotten a full night's sleep only once or twice. The rest of the time has been sent lesson planning, preparing materials for lessons, studying Ukrainian, Ukrainian class, watching my clustermates teach, and doing a lot of work on a Community Involvement Project we have organized . . . a conference for English teachers about teaching English without textbooks, and providing some activites which may be effective for their classes.
Sunday is our only free day each week. However, even on this free "Reflection day" I usually have two or three hours of work to do. My patience, work-ethic and sanity have definitey been tested during the past month and a half. Personally, my situation has been compounded by the fact that I arrived three weeks after the rest of the class, so I constantly am behind and trying to catch up. Luckily, though, the members of my cluster have been very helpful and accomadating for me. I hope the other Turkmenistan rejects have been treated as well.
Overall I am happy and in good spirits. However, the past month and half, for me, has been a study in the polarity of human emotion. I have incredible days in which nothing goes wrong, and then I have days when I just can't bring myself to do work. It is interesting how light my bad feels on my 20 - 30 minute walk on the good days, to how heavy it feels on the same walk on the tough days. I am sure it is a common part of adjusting to a new culture and community to sometimes feel isolation. It can be difficult knowing that my friends and family are a continent and ocean away.
One of my salvations has been my good old American music. I have been listening to a lot of country music since I've been here, and all the bluegrass that I have. Ryan Bingham, and Sam Bush have been on an almost constant loop lately, and Eric Church and Dierks Bentley are frequently thrown in the mix. Pop music sounds like pop music anywhere, as does the rock/alternative . . . it is country music that brings me home, and reminds me of America. It has truly been a saving grace. I just love songs about open doors, trains and leaving, I always have. . . Perhaps that is what sent me so many miles from home.
In my limited free time I have been reading. The last book I read was The Great Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux. It is the story of a train trip which started in London, and went southeast through Europe to Turkey and around Asia. I am now reading Ghost Train to the Eastern Star a book in which Theroux revisits his inital journey thirty three years later. They are fascinating books, and I have really enjoyed them. It is comforting to read the stories of someone else out of their comfort zone, and out of their comfort zone by choice. Interacting and observing the way people in the world live. It is also funny, that in describing travellers he has very nearly pin-pointed some of my characteristics, or perhaps character flaws is a better word. Particularly the vanity, and self-indulgence travel like mine allows. Even only a month and a half into my stay I am positive this has been much more real an experience than any study abroad program which bases itself in a big city at an open-minded university. I am in a small village in Ukraine (read the REAL UKRAINE). It is true, I think, that even many travellers do not truly see the places to which they travel. Staying in resorts, and in big cities gives us a sterialized, and commercialized version of the particular places we want to see. And, while this version is undoubtably enjoyable, it is not the truth . . . but, then again, tourism as a business is generally one big smoke-screen. An effort to make a good first impression. A city doing the same thing a person does when they meet someone new.
My apologies for the inconsistency in these posts, and in the inconsistencies of the topics I write about therein. Everything in a post is somewhat related, albeit perhaps very, very loosely. But, I refuse to proofread these, and will not edit what comes out to start with, that is a warning I gave at the beginning. Whammy. This is about all I know for now, and if you have the patience to read all of this, and all of these posts, then God bless you, because I sure as hell wouldn't . . . except while I was still waiting to leave, trying to learn what it was like.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars!
Pete
Contrary to what I tell people, I am not actually a Peace Corps Volunteer. I will not be a Peace Corps Volunteer until December 17. This is two weeks away from me (I am writing on Wednesday, December 2). Training life, from what I hear is different from the life of a regular volunteer. It is busy, it is stressful, and the work seems to be almost endless. Luckily, at this point, I have taught my last lesson of Training, so I will have some semblance of enough time in the average day. The past two weeks I have gotten a full night's sleep only once or twice. The rest of the time has been sent lesson planning, preparing materials for lessons, studying Ukrainian, Ukrainian class, watching my clustermates teach, and doing a lot of work on a Community Involvement Project we have organized . . . a conference for English teachers about teaching English without textbooks, and providing some activites which may be effective for their classes.
Sunday is our only free day each week. However, even on this free "Reflection day" I usually have two or three hours of work to do. My patience, work-ethic and sanity have definitey been tested during the past month and a half. Personally, my situation has been compounded by the fact that I arrived three weeks after the rest of the class, so I constantly am behind and trying to catch up. Luckily, though, the members of my cluster have been very helpful and accomadating for me. I hope the other Turkmenistan rejects have been treated as well.
Overall I am happy and in good spirits. However, the past month and half, for me, has been a study in the polarity of human emotion. I have incredible days in which nothing goes wrong, and then I have days when I just can't bring myself to do work. It is interesting how light my bad feels on my 20 - 30 minute walk on the good days, to how heavy it feels on the same walk on the tough days. I am sure it is a common part of adjusting to a new culture and community to sometimes feel isolation. It can be difficult knowing that my friends and family are a continent and ocean away.
One of my salvations has been my good old American music. I have been listening to a lot of country music since I've been here, and all the bluegrass that I have. Ryan Bingham, and Sam Bush have been on an almost constant loop lately, and Eric Church and Dierks Bentley are frequently thrown in the mix. Pop music sounds like pop music anywhere, as does the rock/alternative . . . it is country music that brings me home, and reminds me of America. It has truly been a saving grace. I just love songs about open doors, trains and leaving, I always have. . . Perhaps that is what sent me so many miles from home.
In my limited free time I have been reading. The last book I read was The Great Railway Bazaar by Paul Theroux. It is the story of a train trip which started in London, and went southeast through Europe to Turkey and around Asia. I am now reading Ghost Train to the Eastern Star a book in which Theroux revisits his inital journey thirty three years later. They are fascinating books, and I have really enjoyed them. It is comforting to read the stories of someone else out of their comfort zone, and out of their comfort zone by choice. Interacting and observing the way people in the world live. It is also funny, that in describing travellers he has very nearly pin-pointed some of my characteristics, or perhaps character flaws is a better word. Particularly the vanity, and self-indulgence travel like mine allows. Even only a month and a half into my stay I am positive this has been much more real an experience than any study abroad program which bases itself in a big city at an open-minded university. I am in a small village in Ukraine (read the REAL UKRAINE). It is true, I think, that even many travellers do not truly see the places to which they travel. Staying in resorts, and in big cities gives us a sterialized, and commercialized version of the particular places we want to see. And, while this version is undoubtably enjoyable, it is not the truth . . . but, then again, tourism as a business is generally one big smoke-screen. An effort to make a good first impression. A city doing the same thing a person does when they meet someone new.
My apologies for the inconsistency in these posts, and in the inconsistencies of the topics I write about therein. Everything in a post is somewhat related, albeit perhaps very, very loosely. But, I refuse to proofread these, and will not edit what comes out to start with, that is a warning I gave at the beginning. Whammy. This is about all I know for now, and if you have the patience to read all of this, and all of these posts, then God bless you, because I sure as hell wouldn't . . . except while I was still waiting to leave, trying to learn what it was like.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars!
Pete
Some Rambling Thoughts About Why I Joined Peace Corps
Because I do not have regular internet access, I have decided to write these posts while working off-line, prior to actually posting them to my all-important blog. So, please forgive me if I indicate I am writing on a day on a, say Tuesday, and the entry is not posted until Saturday or Sunday. I’m sure you feel as I do: minor details like this just do not matter. Let’s focus on the big picture, not the minutiae.
I am not sure if anyone is reading these posts, nor do I care much, to be honest. These are being written just as much for me as for anyone in my intended audience. Tonight, it is Tuesday, November 17, 2009, I have sat down to write an entry. Not much has changed in my life since the last post. I am still overwhelmingly busy, I still have no time, and I still really want to see some sun (though I’m not sure I mentioned this last post). For ease of reading, and some sense of organization I have decided to take a thematic approach to these entries. If anything of import that is worth chronicling in and of itself occurs, I will, of course, document the event. But, if you are reading just to see what is happening in my head, or how I’m doing here, I’ll lay down a thematic guide to my thought process.
I have not checked comments, if there are any, or emails in a while. However, before I left I was frequently asked why I decided to apply, and then join the Peace Corps. This is a question to which a short answer is difficult. And, if I can tell correctly most people asking did not want my life story, or too deep an answer, it was generally more of a question made out of polite curiosity. I am, I think, pretty straight forward, but also can be a bit guarded in answers to questions like this – especially with people I do not know very well. However, the benefit of the written, and in our case typed, word, is that it does not require actually looking at a person, telling them, and then gleaning their opinions from body language, and how quickly they may change the subject. Needless to say, when I was posed the question, and answered “I’m joining the Peace Corps to pick up chicks,” I was not being forthcoming; though, if that is a side effect, I am not opposed to it.
This question for any volunteer/trainee, at least the ones I have spoken with, is generally complex. I do feel, however, that my answer is a bit different from most of my fellow trainees/volunteers. It is not a secret that I love America. I use love here in the truest sense of the word. I am immensely proud of the country and the ideals for which it stands, and strives, albeit sometimes a bit circuitously. While there are clearly great embarrassments, and tragedies of word and deed in the history of our country, it is, in my opinion truly the “beacon on the hill” and a place of great opportunity. These words are sometimes tough to say, but as a student of history, it is not difficult to find a heartening story or anecdote in the annals of our past. And, according to Eisenhower, nothing is as strong as an aroused Democracy. I suppose you can tell: I do not subscribe to the reform-school historians’ theories. I feel it is time for the educated intelligentsia to bring back the “right kind of patriotism.” This is not the xenophobic sort common in the south, and among our ultra-conservative constituents. It is the patriotism that realizes how great a nation the United States of America is, and how great it can continue to be. It is a patriotism that understands our transgressions of the past, and strives to right them. It is a patriotism that welcomes new groups, both of thought, and ethnicity, and welcomes the contributions these groups can make to our mosaic.
I wish it wasn’t so late, or I’m sure this would be a bit more coherent, and worded more clearly and concisely. I could wax philosophic on this for pages and hours but I will stop. Needless to say, I am deeply proud of America. Through this devotion I became a proponent of national service. It is something I feel should be a requirement for all American citizens. For me, the Peace Corps was the perfect place for me to fill that desire to serve America. I much prefer the ability to act as an ambassador of goodwill to the people of a receptive country, than I would to be a member of our Armed Services, perhaps because I would have to shave, and wear a military haircut, I believe high and tight is the phrase.
Service seems to be a calling of both the Meegan and Coppa families. I am humbled to be able to continue this tradition. Perhaps this is a little clearer on the Meegan side. I am the grandson of Joseph B. Meegan, co-founder of The Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council. This is by and large the most prominent example of service among members of the amalgamated Meegan and Coppa families, but it is by no means the only example. I am also the grandson of the first Italian-American Eagle Scout in Rhode Island; man that was a corpsman (read doctor/medic for those unfamiliar with the terminology) with the United States Navy/Marines. These are, of course, only brief and pointed examples.
I am also the son of a Rotarian and a teacher. On the Rotarian side, I have a legacy of service that is also difficult to match. This includes living, while in college, at the Big Brother’s house, an orphanage for kids to sending boxes of clothes, and supplies to the Philippines to support yet another orphanage in an extraordinarily impoverished country.
The legacy of service also includes aunts, and uncles, and cousins. It includes siblings. The Meegan-Coppa amalgamation has served in AmeriCorps, the Army, the Navy, the Merchant Marines, and has worked with and for the United States State Department. It includes service on the community level through organizations such as scouting, as well.
Another aspect is that good, old Irish Catholic guilt. We all have it, it is just a bit more prominent in some. This cannot be discounted as a motivating factor in committing to Peace Corps service. Thought, it was concertedly secular Peace Corps service I decided upon, as I am not comfortable with evangelization and proselytizing, event after eight years of Catholic school. Perhaps it is just part of that whole “actions speak louder than words” thing, or perhaps because evangelization, to me, seems to employ a forced “Westernization” approach (I’m sure, of course, this comment will draw contention).
However, I should also admit, that my intentions have never been entirely altruistic. I am extraordinarily curious about this big beautiful world we live in, and I want the opportunity to explore it. Peace Corps service is allowing me this opportunity to see the world, not as it appears, but as it is, as T.S. Eliot wrote, “. . . the first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it….” Wanderlust can strike deep, and is not satisfied just be listening to Hank Williams sing “Ramblin’ Man,” or reading travelogues. At some point, while in college, it became necessary for me to join “the legion of the lost ones, the cohort of the damned,/ the brethren in their sorrow overseas,” though this is an entirely too dramatic example.
So, perhaps I have cleared things up, and perhaps I have just further obfuscated your understand of me, and my motivations. Either way, I don’t know, because, as I mentioned previously, I have no time or patience to proofread these, so I’m going with my rough draft.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars,
Peter Davidovich Meegan
I am not sure if anyone is reading these posts, nor do I care much, to be honest. These are being written just as much for me as for anyone in my intended audience. Tonight, it is Tuesday, November 17, 2009, I have sat down to write an entry. Not much has changed in my life since the last post. I am still overwhelmingly busy, I still have no time, and I still really want to see some sun (though I’m not sure I mentioned this last post). For ease of reading, and some sense of organization I have decided to take a thematic approach to these entries. If anything of import that is worth chronicling in and of itself occurs, I will, of course, document the event. But, if you are reading just to see what is happening in my head, or how I’m doing here, I’ll lay down a thematic guide to my thought process.
I have not checked comments, if there are any, or emails in a while. However, before I left I was frequently asked why I decided to apply, and then join the Peace Corps. This is a question to which a short answer is difficult. And, if I can tell correctly most people asking did not want my life story, or too deep an answer, it was generally more of a question made out of polite curiosity. I am, I think, pretty straight forward, but also can be a bit guarded in answers to questions like this – especially with people I do not know very well. However, the benefit of the written, and in our case typed, word, is that it does not require actually looking at a person, telling them, and then gleaning their opinions from body language, and how quickly they may change the subject. Needless to say, when I was posed the question, and answered “I’m joining the Peace Corps to pick up chicks,” I was not being forthcoming; though, if that is a side effect, I am not opposed to it.
This question for any volunteer/trainee, at least the ones I have spoken with, is generally complex. I do feel, however, that my answer is a bit different from most of my fellow trainees/volunteers. It is not a secret that I love America. I use love here in the truest sense of the word. I am immensely proud of the country and the ideals for which it stands, and strives, albeit sometimes a bit circuitously. While there are clearly great embarrassments, and tragedies of word and deed in the history of our country, it is, in my opinion truly the “beacon on the hill” and a place of great opportunity. These words are sometimes tough to say, but as a student of history, it is not difficult to find a heartening story or anecdote in the annals of our past. And, according to Eisenhower, nothing is as strong as an aroused Democracy. I suppose you can tell: I do not subscribe to the reform-school historians’ theories. I feel it is time for the educated intelligentsia to bring back the “right kind of patriotism.” This is not the xenophobic sort common in the south, and among our ultra-conservative constituents. It is the patriotism that realizes how great a nation the United States of America is, and how great it can continue to be. It is a patriotism that understands our transgressions of the past, and strives to right them. It is a patriotism that welcomes new groups, both of thought, and ethnicity, and welcomes the contributions these groups can make to our mosaic.
I wish it wasn’t so late, or I’m sure this would be a bit more coherent, and worded more clearly and concisely. I could wax philosophic on this for pages and hours but I will stop. Needless to say, I am deeply proud of America. Through this devotion I became a proponent of national service. It is something I feel should be a requirement for all American citizens. For me, the Peace Corps was the perfect place for me to fill that desire to serve America. I much prefer the ability to act as an ambassador of goodwill to the people of a receptive country, than I would to be a member of our Armed Services, perhaps because I would have to shave, and wear a military haircut, I believe high and tight is the phrase.
Service seems to be a calling of both the Meegan and Coppa families. I am humbled to be able to continue this tradition. Perhaps this is a little clearer on the Meegan side. I am the grandson of Joseph B. Meegan, co-founder of The Back of the Yards Neighborhood Council. This is by and large the most prominent example of service among members of the amalgamated Meegan and Coppa families, but it is by no means the only example. I am also the grandson of the first Italian-American Eagle Scout in Rhode Island; man that was a corpsman (read doctor/medic for those unfamiliar with the terminology) with the United States Navy/Marines. These are, of course, only brief and pointed examples.
I am also the son of a Rotarian and a teacher. On the Rotarian side, I have a legacy of service that is also difficult to match. This includes living, while in college, at the Big Brother’s house, an orphanage for kids to sending boxes of clothes, and supplies to the Philippines to support yet another orphanage in an extraordinarily impoverished country.
The legacy of service also includes aunts, and uncles, and cousins. It includes siblings. The Meegan-Coppa amalgamation has served in AmeriCorps, the Army, the Navy, the Merchant Marines, and has worked with and for the United States State Department. It includes service on the community level through organizations such as scouting, as well.
Another aspect is that good, old Irish Catholic guilt. We all have it, it is just a bit more prominent in some. This cannot be discounted as a motivating factor in committing to Peace Corps service. Thought, it was concertedly secular Peace Corps service I decided upon, as I am not comfortable with evangelization and proselytizing, event after eight years of Catholic school. Perhaps it is just part of that whole “actions speak louder than words” thing, or perhaps because evangelization, to me, seems to employ a forced “Westernization” approach (I’m sure, of course, this comment will draw contention).
However, I should also admit, that my intentions have never been entirely altruistic. I am extraordinarily curious about this big beautiful world we live in, and I want the opportunity to explore it. Peace Corps service is allowing me this opportunity to see the world, not as it appears, but as it is, as T.S. Eliot wrote, “. . . the first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it….” Wanderlust can strike deep, and is not satisfied just be listening to Hank Williams sing “Ramblin’ Man,” or reading travelogues. At some point, while in college, it became necessary for me to join “the legion of the lost ones, the cohort of the damned,/ the brethren in their sorrow overseas,” though this is an entirely too dramatic example.
So, perhaps I have cleared things up, and perhaps I have just further obfuscated your understand of me, and my motivations. Either way, I don’t know, because, as I mentioned previously, I have no time or patience to proofread these, so I’m going with my rough draft.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars,
Peter Davidovich Meegan
Sunday, November 15, 2009
First Post from Ukraine
It is Thursday evening, November 12, 2009. I am still in Kaharlyk, Ukraine doing my PST. PST is Pre-Service Training. It comprises of an extremely intensive Ukrainian language course, as well as technical (read: teacher) training. Our language classes are four hours per day. This is supplemented by usually around 2 or more hours of homework. Trainees are given one extra hour of tutoring per week. Because I came to Ukraine three weeks late, for me it is an extra session three times a week. This extra session lasts around an hour and a half. And, while I very much appreciate the extra support, extra attention, and extra help, it is very difficult, and I find myself remarkably drained at the end of every day.
With my host family, I do not have internet access. To access the internet I have to invite myself over to a fellow trainee’s host family’s house. Thus, I only get online once every week or two. This is the biggest reason I have neglected to compose any earth-shattering blog posts on my cross-cultural observations, and about how much I will change the world once I am fluent in Ukrainian (read: in a very, very, very long time). I finally came up with the idea of writing my blog post as a Word document (I am using the brand new Microsoft Word, and I hate it, for the record), and then copying and pasting once I am able to go online. Aren’t I just a clever and industrious one?
Because I have been very brief in all of my emails to family and friends, if I have answered at all, let me first describe my town. The town has about 15,000 people. There is a relatively busy town center, complete with a supermarket called ΦΟΡΑ, this is pronounced “for-a”. At ΦΟΡΑ I generally buy a two liter bottle of water, or two a day. Unbeknownst to me, the brand I buy has kept me a slave to the Coca-Cola Corporation. I learned this after finally reading the label. There are also many smaller kiosks, and Mahazines. Mahazines are small stores that can sell anything from food and drink to clothes, to hardware. Our town also has a wonderful and large park, with two monuments to The Great Patriotic War, and the veterans of said war. The Great Patriotic War is the portion of World War II in which Germany attacked the Soviet Union. This was 1941 and on.
Our town center is looked after by two additional monuments. One is the Lenin statue, Vladimir, not John – John’s last name is Lennon! Lenin is looking stern, and pensive, but fatherly. He is sitting down. Further on there is a tank. Tank is the same word in both Ukrainian and English. We foreign language studiers call it a cognate. The tank has the barrel of its cannon staring down the main street, and the monument states (paraphrased) Honor Defenders of the Motherland. Even in post-Soviet Ukraine the veterans of the Great Patriotic War are still honored, and respected – as they should be. Our town also has a bust of the ubiquitous Taras Shevchenko. Shevchenko is a Ukrainian national folk-hero; a politician through poetry, and one of the most outspoken proponents for an independent Ukraine when Ukraine was under Czarist Russia. His famous work is Kobzar it is taught throughout schools, and I have the goal of reading it, and understanding it entirely in Ukrainian. Finally there is statue honoring one of the first mayors of Soviet Kaharlyk. His name escapes me.
The center is at the top of a hill. A hill I walk up every day. I walk almost everywhere, just about always. Generally it takes me about 20 minutes to get into town. Close to the park is a new church currently under construction. It is a gorgeous building with the famous golden domes; I believe they are called “onion-top”. It is a nice sight to see the just the golden top above the rest of the town on my walk every morning. My walk takes me down the dirt-road (it is not as rustic as it sounds) that I live on, one right, and one left turn bring me to a more central road. This road, it is, indeed, paved, brings me down a hill. From here I turn right onto one of the main arteries in an out of Kaharlyk. I walk past a large pond, crossing the pond over a road bridge, and then go up one more hill to hit the Center. I must say, on mornings in which I am not rushed, the walk is a pleasant way to start my day.
The architecture in town is very square, and boxy. The most impressive building is the Kaharlyk Region Administration building. It stands above the town like a sentinel, or perhaps impenetrable fortress would be a better description, and I imagine would be spooky in the dead of night. Along the main drag there is also a police station. Police here are called the militsiya, which always makes me think of the Minutemen of Massachusetts for a second when they are mentioned. There is also a smaller Kaharlyk town administration building – the differences between town and region are just what the words imply.
Close to our center we also have a bazaar. This, I think, will be the subject of a different post sometime in the near future. It is a very lively open air market that is rather interesting to see. Merchants sell their wares from different booths, and kiosks, most of which look like wooden shacks, and can be closed up, and left where they are. . . now that I think about it, this describes the bazaar perfectly, just imagine a large area very crowded similar to the Haymarket in Boston.
We also have a plethora of crows in Kaharlyk. They are a bit disconcerting. Like a scene out of the Hitchcock classic there will be groups of tremendous numbers of the birds flying all together like a swarm. I have yet to figure out a purpose for this, and ultimately one watches and waits, and prays to God bird-shit doesn’t drop down from the heavens (Sorry for the language, Mom, but the other descriptive words for feces do not seem to do justice to the emotion). These groups, though, will fly all about the town, and I can see them whether I’m in the Center, or near the home in which I live.
Temperature and weather are, of course, favorites for small talk. When I first got here, October 17th was my first day in town, we were already in the depths of autumn. Leaves had changed, but the temperature was still relatively warm. Since then, almost four weeks later, while we are definitely still in autumn, and not the dreaded winter, the temperature, and the weather has most-definitely changed. The temperature has been much lower, as of late. Averaging probably around 5 – 12 ° C – a far cry from the 70° F days I have heard of recently in Rhode Island. The issue, for me, however isn’t with the chilly weather. It is chilly, but not cold. The issue is thus: When I first get outside I am cold. I need a jacket, and ear-muffs, and gloves. I am also wearing autumny-wintery clothes. The walk, however, is usually at a brisk pace, and involves some large hills. By the time I get to class I am sweating. This is compounded by the fact that the heat is generally put on very high in most places, which makes it difficult to cool down even after I arrive.
Other than the temperature regulation issues, the weather has been very dreary lately. There have been many grey days, misty mornings, foggy afternoons, and flat-out rainy days. There are not many things I would like better than a string of sunny days. Even if they were sunny and cold, I wouldn’t mind, just so long as they were sunny.
But, the important things are that I am happy, and healthy. I am overwhelmed with work, but that’s never killed anyone (except John Henry, he was a steel driving man, Lord, Lord). I have been well-fed, and well-looked after. If I were placed here in Kaharlyk for my entire 26 months I would not have any complaints, but alas, that is not going to be the case, as this town does not have the need of wherever ever else we are ultimately sent.
If anyone gets through all of this, God bless you. I appreciate your time going through my mental meanderings, which I am not sure are all that coherent. With such a large, all-consuming change, it is hard to describe specific aspects succinctly without getting into a million things, but I hope I have been somewhat concise. If there are any questions you have for me, I would love to hear them, and will answer as soon as possible. My email address is. Also, if you would like to write me a real letter, I would definitely love that, too. Also, on the off chance anyone reading is thinking of sending a package, I am not able to receive packages until I am out of training and have been put in a permanent site. This will be around December 17. My address is:
U.S. Peace Corps/Ukraine Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) PeterMeegan
111A Saksohanskoho St. Kyiv, Ukraine 01032
Please, as a matter of courtesy that I would NOT extend to you, do not judge my grammar, and general mistakes herein. I have done this in a very short period of time, I am tired, and I will not proofread. I don’t have the energy.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars,
Pete
With my host family, I do not have internet access. To access the internet I have to invite myself over to a fellow trainee’s host family’s house. Thus, I only get online once every week or two. This is the biggest reason I have neglected to compose any earth-shattering blog posts on my cross-cultural observations, and about how much I will change the world once I am fluent in Ukrainian (read: in a very, very, very long time). I finally came up with the idea of writing my blog post as a Word document (I am using the brand new Microsoft Word, and I hate it, for the record), and then copying and pasting once I am able to go online. Aren’t I just a clever and industrious one?
Because I have been very brief in all of my emails to family and friends, if I have answered at all, let me first describe my town. The town has about 15,000 people. There is a relatively busy town center, complete with a supermarket called ΦΟΡΑ, this is pronounced “for-a”. At ΦΟΡΑ I generally buy a two liter bottle of water, or two a day. Unbeknownst to me, the brand I buy has kept me a slave to the Coca-Cola Corporation. I learned this after finally reading the label. There are also many smaller kiosks, and Mahazines. Mahazines are small stores that can sell anything from food and drink to clothes, to hardware. Our town also has a wonderful and large park, with two monuments to The Great Patriotic War, and the veterans of said war. The Great Patriotic War is the portion of World War II in which Germany attacked the Soviet Union. This was 1941 and on.
Our town center is looked after by two additional monuments. One is the Lenin statue, Vladimir, not John – John’s last name is Lennon! Lenin is looking stern, and pensive, but fatherly. He is sitting down. Further on there is a tank. Tank is the same word in both Ukrainian and English. We foreign language studiers call it a cognate. The tank has the barrel of its cannon staring down the main street, and the monument states (paraphrased) Honor Defenders of the Motherland. Even in post-Soviet Ukraine the veterans of the Great Patriotic War are still honored, and respected – as they should be. Our town also has a bust of the ubiquitous Taras Shevchenko. Shevchenko is a Ukrainian national folk-hero; a politician through poetry, and one of the most outspoken proponents for an independent Ukraine when Ukraine was under Czarist Russia. His famous work is Kobzar it is taught throughout schools, and I have the goal of reading it, and understanding it entirely in Ukrainian. Finally there is statue honoring one of the first mayors of Soviet Kaharlyk. His name escapes me.
The center is at the top of a hill. A hill I walk up every day. I walk almost everywhere, just about always. Generally it takes me about 20 minutes to get into town. Close to the park is a new church currently under construction. It is a gorgeous building with the famous golden domes; I believe they are called “onion-top”. It is a nice sight to see the just the golden top above the rest of the town on my walk every morning. My walk takes me down the dirt-road (it is not as rustic as it sounds) that I live on, one right, and one left turn bring me to a more central road. This road, it is, indeed, paved, brings me down a hill. From here I turn right onto one of the main arteries in an out of Kaharlyk. I walk past a large pond, crossing the pond over a road bridge, and then go up one more hill to hit the Center. I must say, on mornings in which I am not rushed, the walk is a pleasant way to start my day.
The architecture in town is very square, and boxy. The most impressive building is the Kaharlyk Region Administration building. It stands above the town like a sentinel, or perhaps impenetrable fortress would be a better description, and I imagine would be spooky in the dead of night. Along the main drag there is also a police station. Police here are called the militsiya, which always makes me think of the Minutemen of Massachusetts for a second when they are mentioned. There is also a smaller Kaharlyk town administration building – the differences between town and region are just what the words imply.
Close to our center we also have a bazaar. This, I think, will be the subject of a different post sometime in the near future. It is a very lively open air market that is rather interesting to see. Merchants sell their wares from different booths, and kiosks, most of which look like wooden shacks, and can be closed up, and left where they are. . . now that I think about it, this describes the bazaar perfectly, just imagine a large area very crowded similar to the Haymarket in Boston.
We also have a plethora of crows in Kaharlyk. They are a bit disconcerting. Like a scene out of the Hitchcock classic there will be groups of tremendous numbers of the birds flying all together like a swarm. I have yet to figure out a purpose for this, and ultimately one watches and waits, and prays to God bird-shit doesn’t drop down from the heavens (Sorry for the language, Mom, but the other descriptive words for feces do not seem to do justice to the emotion). These groups, though, will fly all about the town, and I can see them whether I’m in the Center, or near the home in which I live.
Temperature and weather are, of course, favorites for small talk. When I first got here, October 17th was my first day in town, we were already in the depths of autumn. Leaves had changed, but the temperature was still relatively warm. Since then, almost four weeks later, while we are definitely still in autumn, and not the dreaded winter, the temperature, and the weather has most-definitely changed. The temperature has been much lower, as of late. Averaging probably around 5 – 12 ° C – a far cry from the 70° F days I have heard of recently in Rhode Island. The issue, for me, however isn’t with the chilly weather. It is chilly, but not cold. The issue is thus: When I first get outside I am cold. I need a jacket, and ear-muffs, and gloves. I am also wearing autumny-wintery clothes. The walk, however, is usually at a brisk pace, and involves some large hills. By the time I get to class I am sweating. This is compounded by the fact that the heat is generally put on very high in most places, which makes it difficult to cool down even after I arrive.
Other than the temperature regulation issues, the weather has been very dreary lately. There have been many grey days, misty mornings, foggy afternoons, and flat-out rainy days. There are not many things I would like better than a string of sunny days. Even if they were sunny and cold, I wouldn’t mind, just so long as they were sunny.
But, the important things are that I am happy, and healthy. I am overwhelmed with work, but that’s never killed anyone (except John Henry, he was a steel driving man, Lord, Lord). I have been well-fed, and well-looked after. If I were placed here in Kaharlyk for my entire 26 months I would not have any complaints, but alas, that is not going to be the case, as this town does not have the need of wherever ever else we are ultimately sent.
If anyone gets through all of this, God bless you. I appreciate your time going through my mental meanderings, which I am not sure are all that coherent. With such a large, all-consuming change, it is hard to describe specific aspects succinctly without getting into a million things, but I hope I have been somewhat concise. If there are any questions you have for me, I would love to hear them, and will answer as soon as possible. My email address is
U.S. Peace Corps/Ukraine Peace Corps Trainee (PCT) PeterMeegan
111A Saksohanskoho St. Kyiv, Ukraine 01032
Please, as a matter of courtesy that I would NOT extend to you, do not judge my grammar, and general mistakes herein. I have done this in a very short period of time, I am tired, and I will not proofread. I don’t have the energy.
All the Best, and as always Go Friars,
Pete
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Ukraine:
Well, as I mentioned in my last post: "We were told that we are now a priority for the office. As a credit to the Peace Corps, many of my fellow group members have now been given new assignments." Less than an hour after that was posted I was called by Amanda at the Placement Office. I was told, and I am paraphrasing here: "We have a spot available in Ukraine. There is a possibility that you can go to Azerbaijan, but that would not be a definite." After weighing some options in my head (given that I only had about two minutes to make my final decision), I elected to take the placement in Ukraine. I am very excited about it as well. Much praise should be given to the Peace Corps for following through on a commitment they made. I was placed about 49 hours after finding out Turkmenistan did not want us.
Luckily, for me, I was too lazy to set up this blog in the time leading up to Turkmenistan. I will save you some of the asinine history of that country, and give a little about the Ukraine. Still staying in the former Soviet Union, the current CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States), the history still has more than it's share of tragedy. My brief historical snap-shot will be largely (and by largely I mean completely) borrowed from Culture Smart! Ukraine: The Essential Guide to Customs & Culture by Anna Schevchenko. This is also done completely without permission of the author, whammy!
The word ukraina means "borderland". Borderland, of course, implies that Ukraine is/was a frontier, of sorts. Ukrainians, at least ethnic Ukranians, are a Slavic people, and the region, which is now the country, was considered the frontier of the Kyivan Rus empire. . . and still, today it remains a sort of borderland. A country that separates the "Western world" from it's insolent step-brother, Russia.
Ukraine is the geographic center of Europe. It is was the "breadbasket of the Soviet Union," and is now the "breadbasket of Europe." It is home to a particular type of soil, called chornozem, which makes the country remarkably fertile. Such fertility is presumably why Ukraine (and, for the record it is proper to write, and say Ukraine, not "The Ukraine") was so victimized by foreign nations. It has been under Russian control most recently, and prior to Russian control various parts of the country were under the control of Lithuania, and Poland, as well as portions which were, even at that time controlled by Russia.
Ukranian independence was gained by the Cossacks, fierce, and brave warriors famous for their horsemanship, endurance, and drinking ability, not to mention their extraordinary tolerance for pain. It was under the Cossacks that Russia began annexing more and more of Ukraine, naming it Malorossiya, or "Little Russia. This was in the mid-17th century. The country was veritably under Russian hands until the collapse of the Soviet Union. And, while there are numerous tragedies, and important aspects that occurred while under Soviet control, in the interest of some sort of brevity, my focus will go to post-Soviet Ukraine.
Ukrainian nationalism, and desire for independence began in tragedy. Ukraine is home to Chornobyl, the greatest nuclear disaster in history. (I would prefer this not lead into an argument regarding Truman's use of the atomic bomb.) What this tragedy did for the Ukranians was expose the Soviets. The people saw the "blatant lies, and secretive behavior" of Soviet officials, and knew that this was bigger than said official were admitting to. While Independence was still five years away, it took until December of 1991, when the people of Ukraine voted overwhelmingly in favor of becoming their own country.
This brings us into the modern era, the post-Cold War world. The iron curtain, however, lifts slowly. And, even twenty years later the country is still working to establish itself as an independent democracy, with free, and fair elections. Ukrainians proved this to the world, during the "Orange Revolution" of 2004.
During the presidential election of 2004, thousands of protesters took the streets. The election, they claimed, had been rigged. This rigged election led to the defeat of the pro-Western candidate: Viktor Yushenko. The colorful revolution lasted ten days, after which the Supreme Court of Ukraine declared the results invalid, and order a new election. During this "re-do" Yushenko was elected, defeating a Russian-supported candidate, named Yanukovich, narrowly. This proved the country's commitment to the democratic principles we Westerners hold so dearly.
It is to this fledgling country I will be going. I am excited to go to Ukraine to teach English. In my egotism, I feel it an important service for Ukraine's international commercial development. This adventure is scheduled to commence around Tuesday, or Wednesday of next week.
Luckily, for me, I was too lazy to set up this blog in the time leading up to Turkmenistan. I will save you some of the asinine history of that country, and give a little about the Ukraine. Still staying in the former Soviet Union, the current CIS (Commonwealth of Independent States), the history still has more than it's share of tragedy. My brief historical snap-shot will be largely (and by largely I mean completely) borrowed from Culture Smart! Ukraine: The Essential Guide to Customs & Culture by Anna Schevchenko. This is also done completely without permission of the author, whammy!
The word ukraina means "borderland". Borderland, of course, implies that Ukraine is/was a frontier, of sorts. Ukrainians, at least ethnic Ukranians, are a Slavic people, and the region, which is now the country, was considered the frontier of the Kyivan Rus empire. . . and still, today it remains a sort of borderland. A country that separates the "Western world" from it's insolent step-brother, Russia.
Ukraine is the geographic center of Europe. It is was the "breadbasket of the Soviet Union," and is now the "breadbasket of Europe." It is home to a particular type of soil, called chornozem, which makes the country remarkably fertile. Such fertility is presumably why Ukraine (and, for the record it is proper to write, and say Ukraine, not "The Ukraine") was so victimized by foreign nations. It has been under Russian control most recently, and prior to Russian control various parts of the country were under the control of Lithuania, and Poland, as well as portions which were, even at that time controlled by Russia.
Ukranian independence was gained by the Cossacks, fierce, and brave warriors famous for their horsemanship, endurance, and drinking ability, not to mention their extraordinary tolerance for pain. It was under the Cossacks that Russia began annexing more and more of Ukraine, naming it Malorossiya, or "Little Russia. This was in the mid-17th century. The country was veritably under Russian hands until the collapse of the Soviet Union. And, while there are numerous tragedies, and important aspects that occurred while under Soviet control, in the interest of some sort of brevity, my focus will go to post-Soviet Ukraine.
Ukrainian nationalism, and desire for independence began in tragedy. Ukraine is home to Chornobyl, the greatest nuclear disaster in history. (I would prefer this not lead into an argument regarding Truman's use of the atomic bomb.) What this tragedy did for the Ukranians was expose the Soviets. The people saw the "blatant lies, and secretive behavior" of Soviet officials, and knew that this was bigger than said official were admitting to. While Independence was still five years away, it took until December of 1991, when the people of Ukraine voted overwhelmingly in favor of becoming their own country.
This brings us into the modern era, the post-Cold War world. The iron curtain, however, lifts slowly. And, even twenty years later the country is still working to establish itself as an independent democracy, with free, and fair elections. Ukrainians proved this to the world, during the "Orange Revolution" of 2004.
During the presidential election of 2004, thousands of protesters took the streets. The election, they claimed, had been rigged. This rigged election led to the defeat of the pro-Western candidate: Viktor Yushenko. The colorful revolution lasted ten days, after which the Supreme Court of Ukraine declared the results invalid, and order a new election. During this "re-do" Yushenko was elected, defeating a Russian-supported candidate, named Yanukovich, narrowly. This proved the country's commitment to the democratic principles we Westerners hold so dearly.
It is to this fledgling country I will be going. I am excited to go to Ukraine to teach English. In my egotism, I feel it an important service for Ukraine's international commercial development. This adventure is scheduled to commence around Tuesday, or Wednesday of next week.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
The Build Up
I decided I would leave work on September 18. I spent the final days packing, getting the rest of my necessary provisions, and saying good-byes. Eating all my favorite foods, drinking as much beer as I could, and having three straight going away parties. It was a great week, and weekend.
I left Tuesday morning. I got to the Providence airport, and got right through security, and check in and prepared to take my flight to Philadephia. I arrived in the City of Brotherly Love and got a cab to the Holiday Inn in the Historic District. It was exciting to finally get staging taken care of, and get started on the two and a half year adventure.
So, after meeting some fantastic people, 47 to be exact, plus three members of the Peace Corps staff I was excited when the regional director of the Eastern Europe, Mediterranean, and Asia came in to speak to us. The news that came was absolutely shocking. Long story short is, that after signing us in as official Peace Corps Trainees we were put into a status of "Interrupted Service". This means:
A Volunteer may be separated with interrupted service status if the Country Director determines that circumstances beyond the control of the Volunteer make it necessary for the Volunteer to leave his or her present assignment.
The government of Turkmenistan, with no notice, or reason, had decided that they would not be accepting the volunteers of my group.
People in my group had sold homes, left good jobs, and put careers on hold. Not to mention the expense of application, and final preparations (this is in terms of medical tests, appointments, purchasing necessary provisions, and the like). People had broken up with boyfriends/girlfriends, given pets away, and said their tearful goodbyes. There were many emotions in the room: shock, anger, disbelief, and just absolute dejection.
So, as it stands, we wait for new assignments. We were told that we are now a priority for the office. As a credit to the Peace Corps, many of my fellow group memebers have now been given new assignments. As for me, I am sitting, waiting, wishing, and probably contacting the office way more than I should.
I left Tuesday morning. I got to the Providence airport, and got right through security, and check in and prepared to take my flight to Philadephia. I arrived in the City of Brotherly Love and got a cab to the Holiday Inn in the Historic District. It was exciting to finally get staging taken care of, and get started on the two and a half year adventure.
So, after meeting some fantastic people, 47 to be exact, plus three members of the Peace Corps staff I was excited when the regional director of the Eastern Europe, Mediterranean, and Asia came in to speak to us. The news that came was absolutely shocking. Long story short is, that after signing us in as official Peace Corps Trainees we were put into a status of "Interrupted Service". This means:
A Volunteer may be separated with interrupted service status if the Country Director determines that circumstances beyond the control of the Volunteer make it necessary for the Volunteer to leave his or her present assignment.
The government of Turkmenistan, with no notice, or reason, had decided that they would not be accepting the volunteers of my group.
People in my group had sold homes, left good jobs, and put careers on hold. Not to mention the expense of application, and final preparations (this is in terms of medical tests, appointments, purchasing necessary provisions, and the like). People had broken up with boyfriends/girlfriends, given pets away, and said their tearful goodbyes. There were many emotions in the room: shock, anger, disbelief, and just absolute dejection.
So, as it stands, we wait for new assignments. We were told that we are now a priority for the office. As a credit to the Peace Corps, many of my fellow group memebers have now been given new assignments. As for me, I am sitting, waiting, wishing, and probably contacting the office way more than I should.
So It Begins . . .
I have decided to start a blog. Generally I hate bloggers, mostly because of the sense of self importance said bloggers feel their words have, just because they are written. Here is my attempt at a blog. I make no promises with how often it will be updated, but will attempt to update whenever possible.
Here is my Peace Corps Timeline:
My application, while done by May of 2008, was not ultimately submitted until mid-September of 2008.
From there my application was reviewed, and I was interviewed on Friday, November 21. I interviewed with January Zuk, a recruiter in the Boston office, and was confident that the interview went well.
From here, however, there was a long time before I was ultimately granted a nomination. My nomination, to a teaching program in Central Asia leaving in September 2009, was received on December 29, 2008.
From here it was time for my medical and legal clearance. After getting all my medical tests done, including an orthopedic exam of my shoulder, and a personal statement about ADD because I had been tested for that as I child I sat and waited as the medical review was done. The medical tests are long, annoying, and complex, and the review can take as many as four months (at least as of April of 2009). From the day my medical tests were sent in to the day I was granted my final clearance it was only 16 days. I was thrilled at the expedience with which this was handled, and hoped I was on my way for an invitation.
I was called on May 16 and told that I would, indeed, be a good fit for the program in Central Asia. However, the placement officer was not able to tell me over the phone the country in which I would be placed. I received the invitation in the mail on May 19. After getting the assignment, finding out that Turkmenistan was a real place, and checking out what I could, I ultimately accepted the invitation on May 21, my 23rd birthday.
The program was scheduled to have a Staging event in Philadelphia leaving on September 28, and arriving in Turkmenistan on October 1 . . . All was good in Meeganland.
Here is my Peace Corps Timeline:
My application, while done by May of 2008, was not ultimately submitted until mid-September of 2008.
From there my application was reviewed, and I was interviewed on Friday, November 21. I interviewed with January Zuk, a recruiter in the Boston office, and was confident that the interview went well.
From here, however, there was a long time before I was ultimately granted a nomination. My nomination, to a teaching program in Central Asia leaving in September 2009, was received on December 29, 2008.
From here it was time for my medical and legal clearance. After getting all my medical tests done, including an orthopedic exam of my shoulder, and a personal statement about ADD because I had been tested for that as I child I sat and waited as the medical review was done. The medical tests are long, annoying, and complex, and the review can take as many as four months (at least as of April of 2009). From the day my medical tests were sent in to the day I was granted my final clearance it was only 16 days. I was thrilled at the expedience with which this was handled, and hoped I was on my way for an invitation.
I was called on May 16 and told that I would, indeed, be a good fit for the program in Central Asia. However, the placement officer was not able to tell me over the phone the country in which I would be placed. I received the invitation in the mail on May 19. After getting the assignment, finding out that Turkmenistan was a real place, and checking out what I could, I ultimately accepted the invitation on May 21, my 23rd birthday.
The program was scheduled to have a Staging event in Philadelphia leaving on September 28, and arriving in Turkmenistan on October 1 . . . All was good in Meeganland.
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