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