Ukraine, a little radioactivity never hurt anyone
-Hey Ellen, what was Ukraine like?
Asked in passing, I can only answer this question with shocking snippets: The ballet costs $4. ALL the women wear high heels with very few exceptions. There were no clean bathrooms. Without corn syrup or weird additives in food, I never had a stomach ache the whole trip.
To Grandmother's house we go: Kiev, Ukraine.
But the long answer is the one I'll keep with me in my heart of hearts when the next opportunity to go arises. So let's start from the beginning, October 12: Arriving in Ukraine, I learned a very important lesson, don't sweat customs and all the rumors going around about Ukrainian customs. You don't need to bribe them. They don't steal from your checked luggage. Their English is so poor that they don't even look you in the eye very much, just stamp your passport and waive you through. With no other hoops, I waited for my native boys, Taras and Yuri, and then went to meet Grandma. Baba Tamara was waiting front and center in a long wool coat and smart beige felted hat (with a feather, to boot!) over her bright red locks and green eye shadow. This was a serious woman who had an expression of genuine delight on her face at seeing us. She wasted no time, cooing at my newbie Ukrainian words and ushering us to a taxi. "These are my grandsons!" she exclaimed at the cabbie, one of the few things I understood the whole weekend in Kiev.
From the first oily borscht at Grandma's house, it became clear that cooking was not her forte. Speaking and analyzing and being a professor of Ukrainian language was. She bounced around the tiny, book-lined apartment (large by Ukrainian standards, 3 families could be living there) always speaking intensely. Not understanding, it was excruciating trying to decipher between a touchy subject or a retelling of a horrible thing (like cooking pasta, which has no nutritional value according to her). I just did my best not to offend her. While sitting on the bed in jeans is a mortal sin, it's a-ok to let raw fish juices soak into a wood cutting board. Confusing, but highly amusing when it's just for 4 days.
Kiev, the city: I'll never forget the first commute into Kiev with Grandma. She was heading in to the university anyway, so she took Yuri and I with her that morning. We were already on Grandma-time, waking up at 5:30am, so we bid Taras goodbye and went charging though the hurdles of Kiev's bus and subway system. The thing about Kiev's subway is that it doubles as a bomb shelter, so it is extremely deep underground, yet very beautiful. Wikipedia says the deepest station is at 105.5 meters.
I'm a tourist, and that's ok
Kiev's downtown adventure was all about checking things off the tourist to-do list: Shevchenko Park, Opera house, Independence Square, Khreshchatyk street, St Sophia's cathedral, the big soviet woman statue, etc.. All this while simultaneously admiring the polished, classy styles of Kiev men and women. Not a single hoodie+jeans ensemble to be seen. I was too distracted to care that I was in tennis shoes, but very glad once I got my vacation boots' zipper repaired for $3. Score! I now somewhat fit in, minus the American I-own-everything strut.
Goodbye, Kiev
All that, and seeing Taras' younger cousin on the runway at Kiev fashion week, pretty much exhausted me for the sleeper train Sunday night to L'viv..
I helped adjust Taras' faux hawk. Isn't he cute?
To be continued.
Asked in passing, I can only answer this question with shocking snippets: The ballet costs $4. ALL the women wear high heels with very few exceptions. There were no clean bathrooms. Without corn syrup or weird additives in food, I never had a stomach ache the whole trip.
To Grandmother's house we go: Kiev, Ukraine.
But the long answer is the one I'll keep with me in my heart of hearts when the next opportunity to go arises. So let's start from the beginning, October 12: Arriving in Ukraine, I learned a very important lesson, don't sweat customs and all the rumors going around about Ukrainian customs. You don't need to bribe them. They don't steal from your checked luggage. Their English is so poor that they don't even look you in the eye very much, just stamp your passport and waive you through. With no other hoops, I waited for my native boys, Taras and Yuri, and then went to meet Grandma. Baba Tamara was waiting front and center in a long wool coat and smart beige felted hat (with a feather, to boot!) over her bright red locks and green eye shadow. This was a serious woman who had an expression of genuine delight on her face at seeing us. She wasted no time, cooing at my newbie Ukrainian words and ushering us to a taxi. "These are my grandsons!" she exclaimed at the cabbie, one of the few things I understood the whole weekend in Kiev.
From the first oily borscht at Grandma's house, it became clear that cooking was not her forte. Speaking and analyzing and being a professor of Ukrainian language was. She bounced around the tiny, book-lined apartment (large by Ukrainian standards, 3 families could be living there) always speaking intensely. Not understanding, it was excruciating trying to decipher between a touchy subject or a retelling of a horrible thing (like cooking pasta, which has no nutritional value according to her). I just did my best not to offend her. While sitting on the bed in jeans is a mortal sin, it's a-ok to let raw fish juices soak into a wood cutting board. Confusing, but highly amusing when it's just for 4 days.
Kiev, the city: I'll never forget the first commute into Kiev with Grandma. She was heading in to the university anyway, so she took Yuri and I with her that morning. We were already on Grandma-time, waking up at 5:30am, so we bid Taras goodbye and went charging though the hurdles of Kiev's bus and subway system. The thing about Kiev's subway is that it doubles as a bomb shelter, so it is extremely deep underground, yet very beautiful. Wikipedia says the deepest station is at 105.5 meters.
I'm a tourist, and that's ok
Kiev's downtown adventure was all about checking things off the tourist to-do list: Shevchenko Park, Opera house, Independence Square, Khreshchatyk street, St Sophia's cathedral, the big soviet woman statue, etc.. All this while simultaneously admiring the polished, classy styles of Kiev men and women. Not a single hoodie+jeans ensemble to be seen. I was too distracted to care that I was in tennis shoes, but very glad once I got my vacation boots' zipper repaired for $3. Score! I now somewhat fit in, minus the American I-own-everything strut.
Goodbye, Kiev
All that, and seeing Taras' younger cousin on the runway at Kiev fashion week, pretty much exhausted me for the sleeper train Sunday night to L'viv..
I helped adjust Taras' faux hawk. Isn't he cute?
To be continued.