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Hello again, and my apologies for not updating sooner. I planned on it, but I am a busy man. This last post has been in my notebook for a little more than three weeks now waiting for me to get motivated enough to type up and post. This documents one of my darkest experiences in Ukraine, literally, and as it has already been written, I am transcribing it verbatim, and not changing tenses because we are three weeks past the point:

It is Saturday morning (January 8^th) 11:30. I have been without power for the last 22 hours. The reason? There is none I can think of. It is only my building and the small shop next to us which are without power. I have, since last night, gone to my window many times to look enviously at all the other buildings with their bright lights shining through the mist. Perhaps they are lighted just to spite me. The trouble is my difficulty deciding what to do.

Last night I went to the internet café. I was able to download my favorite NPR shows. I was also able to download a plethora of interesting articles from Foreign Policy and the Economist. I was expecting perhaps a few hours without power, but it had to be back on by 10:00 PM, right? Needless to say I was sorely disappointed. I am still sitting here completely powered off. Again, for a second time I am pre-writing by hand. Again it is unplanned. When I am finished at the internet café I listen and read what I have downloaded back at home, on my computer. Unfortunately my computer battery has been completely and totally exhausted.

To make matters worse my cell phone has no juice, my short-wave radio is out of gas, and I have maybe 5-10 more minutes until I am in complete silence with just my thoughts – a scary proposition. I would easily be able to survive without these luxuries, don’t get me wrong. But, when usually I can use them, and then I have expansive periods where I can see them just not use them: oh, woe is me.

So this leaves me in a “what do I do?” state. I could go to the internet café, but I really do not enjoy spending time there with kids I may soon teach playing killing games, it is disconcerting, and as a true American I don’t like the lack of privacy. I could walk through town, but a gray mist is thick in the air, and I can no longer see more than 10 or 20 yards out of my window, plus the ground is covered with a filthy gray slush that drenches the bottom of the legs on my pants, and gets in my shoes, too. I can’t go to a café and sit and drink coffee, because its all instant coffee here, so that would be just awful. Bars are not an option either. Not only is it considered inappropriate for a teacher to be in a bar here, but bars are a bit different. There is not a bar-scene where people go for a drink. To go to a bar means an attempt at erasing the previous week from memory, so it is really a poor look for me, especially in my town.

This is where I stopped writing. I started reading by flashlight which was okay, but I didn’t even really enjoy the book. It turned out to be an entire 2 and a half days without power. And there was just no reason for it! No big storm, or anything of that sort. But I did learn the importance of keeping cell phone, iPod, and short-wave radio completely charged in case I go through this again. The minute the lights turned on, was however pretty amazing, especially considering how long I had been without. It was just about the time that I would have to start using the flashlight as well.

In discussing this with a fellow “Turkmen Reject” (the name we have so affectionately given ourselves; if you ever feel bad about anything just think about the fact that Turkmenistan decided I wasn’t good enough for it; that should put any self-doubts into perspective.) we were talking about how embarrassing it was to be complaining about this as a Peace Corps Volunteer. Especially as a PCV that was prepared to go to Turkmenistan. The difference, however, is that at least if we were in a more rustic country we would be well prepared for this sort of situation. We would have such outlandish things as candles, and camping lanterns, and things like that. Needless to say I am not looking forward to rolling black-outs if, and I have heard it is more accurately when, they come.

But, I suppose we all have our crosses to bear, and mine was a prolonged period without power. It would have been a lot better if I hadn’t had to read a bad book during the meantime. I did, however, make it through, and maybe I’m even better for it, but I sincerely doubt that.

I know it has been three weeks since my last post, and I do have plenty to write about so look for a few updates this week. That’s all I know about this, for now, though.

Goodnight, and Go Friars,

Pete

Little Victories

From 4,500 miles away I am still basking in our win over St. John's. In a little apartment in Zhmerynka any news, especially such good news is welcomed readily (this was written before the Louisville game, but who really expected a win against Louisville?). Today, at the internet cafe I was scolded for watching highlights of the game, and told I am not permitted to stream video – this is probably a safeguard against what those who frequent an internet cafe might watch.

As I write this – for the first time I am pre-writing by hand – I am sitting on the Electrichka, the electric, or local train on my way to eat a Christmas Eve dinner with my counterpart, and her family. Hopefully, in my memory years from now this will outshine the December 24th/25th Christmas Eve/Christmas I had . . . remember, holidays are no time to spend alone.

I was planning on reading from one of the last books I have remaining, Once there was a War by Steinbeck, on this shorty voyage, but for some reason felt the urge to write. I opted against journaling this because I feel journals, too are written to be read by others, and I just wish to remove the false sense of privacy around it. In my opinion, there is no reason to write if not for posterity, or at least for current relations. Perhaps I am just cynical about intentions, but I'll make no bones about the fact that I enjoy people reading my rambling, jumbled, sometimes barely half-thought out judgments, observations and insights. It gives me a false sense of self-importance the selfsame (one of my new favorite words) sense of self-importance for which I generally don't like bloggers. I heard somewhere, sometime that we all become (perhaps eventually) what we either hate, or pretend to be. I should start writing down the proverbs I hear, because sometimes I mix and match, this might be an example.

However, after that long and mostly unnecessary explanation I will get to the point. I really just want to gloat about the fact that I was able to negotiate the train station, getting a ticket, and getting on the right train all by myself. Aren't I cool? I also expect everyone that reads this to be extremely impressed. I have not yet become totally inconspicuous here, thought, and I just blew my cover answering my cell-phone and speaking English. But, maybe I will never have cover as the only person here that wears khaki pants, and one of the few people with a beard. Someday I will get a pair of black, shiny pin-striped pants, a big furry hat, and jeans with a million zippers, and then I'll really fit in. I have a buddy here that says all I need is a jacket with a fur-lined hood, and I'll have an invisibility cloak I just can't make that jump yet, those jackets still look too “hood” for my taste.

I must admit, I wish our time was not 7 hours ahead. I am really looking forward to seeing how our Friars fare against Ricky P's Louisville boys. Two wins in a row would drive me crazy, after embarking on my self-imposed exile for the two rebuilding years the P.C. program will have (only another year and a half of rebuilding). Luckily we have Rutgers coming into town this weekend, and we get DePaul next week. I will wait with bated breath until I am able to wake up in the morning and get the news. (For the record, I am aware we lost to Louisville by 22. This was written before the game. However, once the team knows they can play with some of the best, in a big name program even if just for a half, eventually they will be able to do it for the full game. I'm sorry, I am a born and raised Friar fan I have always been an optimist.) But, as I mentioned earlier, it is the little things that get me through the day.

On a completely unrelated note: someday I hope to have a few gold teeth, or really at least one. I don't know why, but I really enjoy them. Although, I feel they give a sly cunning tint to one's appearance (sly and cunning here are not seen as derogatory terms here, as they are in the States). But, who knows? A boy can certainly dream. They are like the foreign version of a grill (the kind a rapper wears, not the Weber you cook burgers on). It is one of my smaller aspirations. I don't ask for much.

In case anybody cares, or is wondering, which I'm sure is relatively unlikely the two songs of the week are “Smith Hill,” the same Smith Hill on which I spent my college days, by Deer Tick, and also “If You Want to Make Me Happy” by Alan Jackson. It is a wonderful song about cathartic heart break. It is the country song from the jokes, about being left by a woman, but luckily she didn't take his dog, or truck, just his heart. I'm not sure if I have written previously, but my music taste has shifted far more to the folky-bluegrassy-country end of the spectrum. The songs that I feel are uniquely American, which don't really have equivalents here.

In other news, I read much, and listen to music much when I am not at school. The first term has not ended yet so I do not have my own classes to plan and prepare for yet. I am looking forward to getting into the nitty-gritty of teaching. So right now I am pretty much biding time, helping do what I can, but not having the full control of a classroom that I would like. As I mentioned at the beginning I am reading Once There Was a War by Steinbeck. These are articles that Steinbeck wrote as a war correspondent for the New York Herald Tribune, he wrote these articles during World War II. Part of the reason I decided to write instead of read, is that I know how this book ends. Pretty similar to the feeling I had when I read through the Bible in college and high school. It is a very good book though. It does not describe the action scenes of a war, those are best represented through Hollywood dramatization. Instead he, similar to how he worked with his novels, he tells the stories of the ordinary every day reality, the unspectacular aspects of war and of soldiers. Not the unspectacular aspects of soldiers as individuals, but the unspectacular aspects of their duties, changing the oil of an airplane, for example. It is not war reporting that one would recognize as much as it is reporting about the people who are at war. And, perhaps Geraldo could take note of this, he does not mention troop positions, and he censors himself for the most part. . . journalistic responsibility who wouldda thought it?
When I'm not reading, or listening to music, or at the internet cafe checking my email, and checking out my Friars, I have been listening to NPR news. Morning Edition, All Things Considered, The Writer's Almanac and also StoryCorps. It is very comforting to hear news from home. The same news I listened to on my drive to work every morning. It is very comforting, but it is also can be very disconcerting. Sometimes we can forget that the world goes on as normal even when we are away from home. I forget that my friends still go out and have fun, without me, my family still has the same parties for Christmas, for football games, still go to P.C. basketball games, and generally the world keeps turning. And this is true on the international level as well. Just because I'm not home does not mean that there are still terrorists in the world, and there are still very real threats to American security and well-being. To be honest, it is a bit humbling.

This is all I have for now. I still have some news that I want to hear, and I want to do some reading. Soon, I will write a better description of my town for anyone that cares to read. I will humbly attempt to give my best Steinbeck impression and paint a picture in your head. But, I still refuse to edit or proofread, so whammy.

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch, (oh yeah, and Go Friars!)

Pete

Little Victories

From 4,500 miles away I am still basking in our win over St. John's. In a little apartment in Zhmerynka any news, especially such good news is welcomed readily (this was written before the Louisville game, but who really expected a win against Louisville?). Today, at the internet cafe I was scolded for watching highlights of the game, and told I am not permitted to stream video – this is probably a safeguard against what those who frequent an internet cafe might watch.

As I write this – for the first time I am pre-writing by hand – I am sitting on the Electrichka, the electric, or local train on my way to eat a Christmas Eve dinner with my counterpart, and her family. Hopefully, in my memory years from now this will outshine the December 24th/25th Christmas Eve/Christmas I had . . . remember, holidays are no time to spend alone.

I was planning on reading from one of the last books I have remaining, Once there was a War by Steinbeck, on this shorty voyage, but for some reason felt the urge to write. I opted against journaling this because I feel journals, too are written to be read by others, and I just wish to remove the false sense of privacy around it. In my opinion, there is no reason to write if not for posterity, or at least for current relations. Perhaps I am just cynical about intentions, but I'll make no bones about the fact that I enjoy people reading my rambling, jumbled, sometimes barely half-thought out judgments, observations and insights. It gives me a false sense of self-importance the selfsame (one of my new favorite words) sense of self-importance for which I generally don't like bloggers. I heard somewhere, sometime that we all become (perhaps eventually) what we either hate, or pretend to be. I should start writing down the proverbs I hear, because sometimes I mix and match, this might be an example.

However, after that long and mostly unnecessary explanation I will get to the point. I really just want to gloat about the fact that I was able to negotiate the train station, getting a ticket, and getting on the right train all by myself. Aren't I cool? I also expect everyone that reads this to be extremely impressed. I have not yet become totally inconspicuous here, thought, and I just blew my cover answering my cell-phone and speaking English. But, maybe I will never have cover as the only person here that wears khaki pants, and one of the few people with a beard. Someday I will get a pair of black, shiny pin-striped pants, a big furry hat, and jeans with a million zippers, and then I'll really fit in. I have a buddy here that says all I need is a jacket with a fur-lined hood, and I'll have an invisibility cloak I just can't make that jump yet, those jackets still look too “hood” for my taste.

I must admit, I wish our time was not 7 hours ahead. I am really looking forward to seeing how our Friars fare against Ricky P's Louisville boys. Two wins in a row would drive me crazy, after embarking on my self-imposed exile for the two rebuilding years the P.C. program will have (only another year and a half of rebuilding). Luckily we have Rutgers coming into town this weekend, and we get DePaul next week. I will wait with bated breath until I am able to wake up in the morning and get the news. (For the record, I am aware we lost to Louisville by 22. This was written before the game. However, once the team knows they can play with some of the best, in a big name program even if just for a half, eventually they will be able to do it for the full game. I'm sorry, I am a born and raised Friar fan I have always been an optimist.) But, as I mentioned earlier, it is the little things that get me through the day.

On a completely unrelated note: someday I hope to have a few gold teeth, or really at least one. I don't know why, but I really enjoy them. Although, I feel they give a sly cunning tint to one's appearance (sly and cunning here are not seen as derogatory terms here, as they are in the States). But, who knows? A boy can certainly dream. They are like the foreign version of a grill (the kind a rapper wears, not the Weber you cook burgers on). It is one of my smaller aspirations. I don't ask for much.

In case anybody cares, or is wondering, which I'm sure is relatively unlikely the two songs of the week are “Smith Hill,” the same Smith Hill on which I spent my college days, by Deer Tick, and also “If You Want to Make Me Happy” by Alan Jackson. It is a wonderful song about cathartic heart break. It is the country song from the jokes, about being left by a woman, but luckily she didn't take his dog, or truck, just his heart. I'm not sure if I have written previously, but my music taste has shifted far more to the folky-bluegrassy-country end of the spectrum. The songs that I feel are uniquely American, which don't really have equivalents here.

In other news, I read much, and listen to music much when I am not at school. The first term has not ended yet so I do not have my own classes to plan and prepare for yet. I am looking forward to getting into the nitty-gritty of teaching. So right now I am pretty much biding time, helping do what I can, but not having the full control of a classroom that I would like. As I mentioned at the beginning I am reading Once There Was a War by Steinbeck. These are articles that Steinbeck wrote as a war correspondent for the New York Herald Tribune, he wrote these articles during World War II. Part of the reason I decided to write instead of read, is that I know how this book ends. Pretty similar to the feeling I had when I read through the Bible in college and high school. It is a very good book though. It does not describe the action scenes of a war, those are best represented through Hollywood dramatization. Instead he, similar to how he worked with his novels, he tells the stories of the ordinary every day reality, the unspectacular aspects of war and of soldiers. Not the unspectacular aspects of soldiers as individuals, but the unspectacular aspects of their duties, changing the oil of an airplane, for example. It is not war reporting that one would recognize as much as it is reporting about the people who are at war. And, perhaps Geraldo could take note of this, he does not mention troop positions, and he censors himself for the most part. . . journalistic responsibility who wouldda thought it?
When I'm not reading, or listening to music, or at the internet cafe checking my email, and checking out my Friars, I have been listening to NPR news. Morning Edition, All Things Considered, The Writer's Almanac and also StoryCorps. It is very comforting to hear news from home. The same news I listened to on my drive to work every morning. It is very comforting, but it is also can be very disconcerting. Sometimes we can forget that the world goes on as normal even when we are away from home. I forget that my friends still go out and have fun, without me, my family still has the same parties for Christmas, for football games, still go to P.C. basketball games, and generally the world keeps turning. And this is true on the international level as well. Just because I'm not home does not mean that there are still terrorists in the world, and there are still very real threats to American security and well-being. To be honest, it is a bit humbling.

This is all I have for now. I still have some news that I want to hear, and I want to do some reading. Soon, I will write a better description of my town for anyone that cares to read. I will humbly attempt to give my best Steinbeck impression and paint a picture in your head. But, I still refuse to edit or proofread, so whammy.

Be well, do good work, and keep in touch, (oh yeah, and Go Friars!)

Pete

Checking in from Zhmerynka

So, as we are all aware, I now live in Zhmerynka, in the Vinnitska Oblast of Ukraine. I have been here for about two and a half weeks now. My new town is a a huge skating rink, covered with snow and ice. I always thought that the North Pole was an apocryphal place existing mostly in our most ethereal fantasias. However, I now know that Zhmerynka is the concept of the North Pole materialized. We have a large square in the middle of town. At one end lies the home of the Rada, which is what the town administration is called here. At the other end sits an Orthodox church. This church is complete with the golden domes that make Orthodox churches so phenomenal and recognizable. In the large area between these two buildings, really a very long rectangle, not a square, there is not a bit of ground to be seen. It is entirely covered with a mix of snow with the threatening gleam of ice which I slip on every few feet.

I have been almost horizontal a few times on my brisk walks to school. And knock on wood, I have not yet fallen. So I've got that going for me, which is nice. There has not been a real Christmas / New Year's break in my town. I did not have to go to school on New Year's Eve, or New Year's Day, but I was back in school today. Also, I was in school on December 25th, our Christmas. In my town December 25th is referred to as “Polish Christmas,” because only the Catholic Poles celebrate Christmas on December 25th. For the Orthodox Church Christmas is January 7th. For all those curious, and remember that curiosity killed the cat, the Orthodox Church never recognized the legitimacy of the Gregorian calendar (the calendar we now use). They still use the Julian calendar, the same calendar created by Julius Caesar. There is really not much of a difference, but when the Russian Empire officially adopted the Gregorian calendar the church did not follow suit. I will be celebrating Orthodox Christmas with my counterpart and her family. I am not sure if I will be going to a service or not, but will be interested if that is the case. I'll understand probably the same portion as I understand at the Catholic church (God, son, Him, love, peace, thanks, and I think that about sums up the total) so it won't be much different. Plus, our churches technically are in communion, though the Eastern Orthodox do not recognize the Pope as their leader, or even as first among equals. They see him as simply the Bishop of Rome. This again, is another over-simplification.

So, in terms of what is new at school, not too much. The students in my classes like to run up to me and say “hello” or “good morning.” They say good morning regardless of the time of day, which I like. An interesting anecdote. My first day in the classroom here I read an article to the students about what is needed to start a newspaper. It was a pretty simple article, though something a bit unessential in terms of learning English, and pretty uninteresting. But, at the end of the article there were comprehension questions. So, I asked the students “what is necessary to run a newspaper?” The first answer I received was redactors. It was pretty difficult for me to stifle my laugh. I thought “maybe this is just a cultural difference in journalism.” In the students defense the Ukrainian word for editor is “редактор” and this is pronounced the same was as the English word redactor, but it was still funny.

Before the two days off for New Years, we had a New Years Carnival. This was pretty interesting, and enjoyable to watch. I even was grabbed out of my chair by the teachers to join in a sort of circle dancing which involves more holding hands and walking in a circle than dancing, but it was funny nonetheless. All of the classes from 1 – 7 gave some sort of presentation at this pageant, whether it was singing or dancing as a class, and some students sang individually. One of my students is in the 6th grade. He is likes to talk to me, and ask me the same questions every time I see him. He will not ask in English, but everyday he asks sometimes in Ukrainian, sometimes in Russian how old I am, if I am married, where do I live, how long I will live in Ukraine, and what type of music I like. Of course, my well thought-out comprehensive answers must be memorable, but that is neither here nor there. This student break dances – and does it well. In front of a large portion of the school, and most teachers he was break dancing, and doing flips to Johnny B. Goode, perhaps the greatest rock song of all time. I had difficulty remaining in my chair and not giving a karaoke performance, but I was able to stay reserved, luckily. After this was over two 6th grade girls ran over to me, took a deep breath, and in concert shouted “Happy New Year” in English. I thanked them, and they ran away giggling to themselves, and I was left sitting in my chair wondering what happened.

Today, January 5th, I had the privilege of attending a rally from one of the leading candidates in the race for President of Ukraine. The election will be on January 17th. This candidate, current prime-minster Yulia Timoshenko, came to speak to my town, which was surprising for me. Our town only has about 37,000 people. And it is about an hour away from the capital of the oblast (state/province). As a Peace Corps Volunteer, I am a member of a apolitical organization, so cannot give publicly any impressions, accolades, or agreements, but the speech, from what I understood of it, was fairly interesting. Timoshenko spoke of the election as being for the honor of Ukraine. Her speech was totally in Ukrainian, and the rally itself was totally in Ukrainian. In Ukraine the Russian language is also frequently used, and the other leading candidate, Yanukovich, is in favor of re-establishing the Russian language as the state language in Ukraine over Ukrainian. In a recent article I read: he [Yanukovich] mocked Timoshenko's upbeat appraisals of the economy, he sarcastically switched into Ukrainian from Russian, drawing laughs from the crowd of about 2,000 supporters.
Switching back into Russian, he said, "I'm tired of hearing five years of this gibberish. . ."
granted his audience was in the pro-Russian Autonomous Republic of the Crimea, but it is interesting to me that a candidate is running for president of Ukraine with a plank in his platform being to end the use of the Ukrainian language.

It was, however, a bit exciting to watch a politically rally so close to a presidential election. I must say, that it was much different from what we would have seen in America. I mean this in terms of everything from the actual program to the security, and the audience. I imagine a rally of this sort in the States would draw a few thousand at the very least, and this crowd must have been closer to a thousand, if that. But, it was an enjoyable way to spend the night. There were also two singers with the prime-minister, and they made it more fun to watch.

For the record, my Providence College Friars were victorious in their second Big East game against the Red Storm of St. John's. I must admit the news of that victory for this team made my day on Monday when I read about it. I think the Big East wins will be rare this year, so we should enjoy them when we are lucky enough to get them. (And yes, I unabashedly use “we” as if I were a member of the team. I bleed black and white during basketball season, sorry.)

That is all I know for now. Good night, Go Friars, and keep warm.

Пітер Майкл Міган

(Peter Michael Meegan – but g is not generally used in Ukrainian so it is pronounced Meehon)