The Wedding
So when I first came to Ukraine, I lived with a family who has two boys, Andrei and Alosha. Andrei is 21, and had just started dating a very nice and intelligent girl named Anja before I arrived. Last week, I went to their wedding!!
It was wonderful. Weddings are multiple day events, they have all kinds of fun traditions, and now that my Ukrainian is passable, it is fun to meet distant relatives (except when they speak in Russian). As a side note, I took another oral proficiency exam the other day. We had one at the end of training; the scale is Beginner, Novice, Intermediate, Advanced, and Superior, and each level has low, mid, and high. I got Intermediate mid at the end of training and now I am at Advanced mid. I was very happy. At first when she told me my level, I thought, "Darn, I really haven't improved in the last four months," then I realized she said 'Advanced.' I wanted to test to see any progress and get advice on my glaring mistakes. I knew my vocabulary is better and I can understand more and speak quicker, but I was afraid I messed up more; but in fact I am not so bad as I thought. I am going to give myself a few more months and then try to tackle a little Russian.
From the test I went to my training town. When I arrived the day before the wedding, the grandparents were already in the 3 room apartment where I had lived for my three months with this family. That night there would be so many people we had a hard time figuring out how to fit them all (9 I think), and the next night there would be even more. I ate and then headed to school where everyone was decorating the cafeteria which is where the wedding would be. It was a long night and more friends kept showing up to help, which was nice. I felt bad though. They were all working so hard and after all it was in a school cafeteria. I couldn’t help but thinking of some of the weddings I had coordinated at the Ahwahnee and wished I could do it for them. I did fold the napkins nice. We finished at about 10 with the room set for 100.
The next morning, we got up early. There were people literally falling over each other, and the best man and Andrei had to go to the other town (actually about an hour away) to “buy” Anja. It is a Ukrainian tradition to send the godfathers clad in traditional stitchwork to speak on behalf of the groom, and then for the groom to literally bargain with the bride’s brothers and family for her hand. It is quite festive with lots of Ukrainian wit, and of course, drinking and eating. My presence wasn’t required or even customary, and I hadn’t had a shower since before I got on the overnight train two days before, so I was looking forward to some of the people clearing out. I even asked my host mom at breakfast if I would be going, and she said no, so I didn’t get dressed, which was a bit embarrassing when they wanted me in some of the photos in the apartment before they left, but then, after all the family went down to the cars to see them off and only Andrei’s other college friends and I were left in the apartment, host grandma comes running upstairs and says, “hurry, John, get dressed, they are waiting for you!” I was shocked but had no time to question the change of plans and hurried on down in about 2 minutes. So I did get to see all of the joking around at the bride’s house, which was neat. Sometimes it takes all of my wit, tact, and creativity not to offend cultural sensitivities and yet figure out what is going on; and then after all that they still sometimes throw me curveballs.
So then they had the traditional Soviet Ceremony which involves signing some fancy forms at the “Palace of Culture” which is like a community center. There is some singing, the wedding march and some poems, the tying of hands with traditional clothwork, and both moms and dads with traditional stitched towels and huge fancy breads which are all more Ukrainian customs.
Later, after photos, the party really begins. The tables are laid with more food and moonshine than you can imagine and the DJs keep the whole array of family toasts moving along, so there is almost constant drinking. This marked the beginning of my longest drinking fest - 26 hours with a 7 hour break for sleeping and the church ceremony. My previous record was about 8 hours at university which included my wine and then dinner class, then drinking with friends and a sailing club meeting. This time though I had to try real hard to stay with it. Some people try very hard to get drunk, it takes all my effort not to.
And lucky for me, all that language learning came in handy because Andrei and Anja wanted me to give a toast. I realized this (no one warned me) after about the 6th or 8th toast, when the alcohol helped a little lightbulb in my head go off. I suddenly remembered overhearing my host mom telling a strange woman my name without introducing me. That fact really isn’t unusual, but now I noticed the same woman was the DJ who kept passing the mike to those who were to toast, all of which had things written in preparation. I got pretty nervous, but I think I pulled it off alright.
The evening ended pretty early (by 1am we were in bed). I had been told, quite specifically, how weddings last all night, but I was ready for bed, and I then realized we all needed to, because the church ceremony was the next morning at 7 am. It was traditional Orthodox with the gold crowns and rings. I unfortunately didn’t bring my camera. Then we were to all meet back at the school at 10 for the second day of partying, and that left us about an hour. So host dad, uncle, and grandpa decided to take me to the bar, where we ran in to the other host brother and the brides brother. They had been drinking tea, but yes that is right...had. We began toasting, and they chase vodka with beer; I can’t do that. If you are a consistent light drinker, they go easy on you, but I definitely had a buzz by the time I got back to the school. I also now know that drinking does in fact help with a hangover headache. I only had a minor one, but it ran away from the vodka.
The second day was more eating, drinking, toasting and dancing, but all in the sunlight! The bride looked as gorgeous (still in her dress, which she told me she did not sleep in) as she did the first day. We did all the American traditional things like cutting the cake, throwing the bouquet, taking off the garter, and then there were some new games too. Finally we cleaned up and headed home, where much to my stuffed surprise, they immediately set a large table, and all the young friends came over, dressed down, and we ate and drank some more!!
At this point, I had to leave. I didn’t want to, nor did they want me to, but I had already bought my train ticket. I actually tried to change it earlier in the day, but I couldn’t, and no one had told me before that there is actually a THIRD day (which in my village centers around chicken soup). So, I headed off, with promises to return…
And Sando, they know you are coming with me next time…
Random Thoughts IIII
This one is really disjointed.
Peace Corps volunteers work all over the world to teach business, market economics, and capitalism and yet the Peace Corps itself has got to be one of the closest things to socialism that I have ever seen. I am given exactly enough money to buy food and housing; I am given a chance every year to comment on if it is indeed enough; I am given free and excellent health care (unless you ARE a doctor, my healthcare is better); all the products come to me at no cost; and in exchange I work really hard, trying to develop myself and the community to the best of my ability. I have no set hours and I can spend the money that I receive for food and housing on whatever I want. It is not a reimbursement (though I can receive a reimbursement for extra language training). All competition is completely removed from the equation, and yet that is what I teach. It is quite an interesting irony. Especially considering that Peace Corps works (or worked) with many former communist countries to teach an economics it doesn't use, and share an 'American' culture through a system that would never be mainstream in America.
PCVs (that is Peace Corps Volunteers) have very unique names. I discovered this when I received the latest call sheet. I had previously noticed that it was unusual that in our training group of 46, I was the only John. In fact there were NO duplicate names in our group, except for two Jeff's. Then when I received the list of all 300 volunteers here in Ukraine, I noticed that there are very few other duplicates. There are about 225 different names, which in Ukraine becomes ironic because of the popularity of such a few names. I have more than one class of twelve, or less, students where three have the same name.
On one of my tours around town when I first arrived, I stopped in at the Clinic/Hospital and there was a large map on the wall. I wasn't quite sure where I was, and so I asked. The nurses on duty had quite a time trying to find us on the map. Now I am trying to find where the dump is (for a citizen awareness project) and no one seems to have any idea where trash goes either.
The concept of work is drilled into us from such a young age: go to work day, job fairs, playing kitchen, playing Mr. Fix it, play companies on the playground (making tacos, etc)., stock pick games in school; and yet here the difference becomes quite obvious. They have such a different concept.
Before I left my training town, I went to a recital. It was my first Ukrainian recital. I was a bit upset to find that people talked quite loudly through the whole thing. In fact, it almost had the feeling of a rehearsal; the piano was out of tune too. But I was quite interested in the traditional dancing. It is amazing how a five minute dance can so well depict multifaceted gender roles. It also explained why break dancing still has a small band of followers here.
I really never thought of myself as a fussy person, but I have found there are lots of things I don't like; things that were never issues before. I don't like my bread buttered for me, in fact I don't really like butter on by bread at all. I don't like people to add sugar to my tea for me; and again, in fact I don't really want coffee or tea at all. I REALLY like to have a vegetable and or fruit with a meal; I don't like those vegetables salted. And I feel like I am the best judge of whether I am hot or cold or not; I can decide whether I need to take off my shirt (a weird thing for your grandma to tell you – Adam Sandler jumped to mind) or put on a jacket. And I MOST ESPECIALLY don't like to be petted, especially by adults.
At the end-of-the-year exams, which they are thinking of changing, there is no basic level demanded from all. The exams are extremely subjective, but the average level demanded is very high. I suspect their lowest student would be pass averagely in our system. The education system here is generally very good. However, preparation for the exams has a very minimal effect on the grade, considering the subjectivity of the process. Year end grades, behavior, and scores on other parts of the exam have as much of an effect as your actual performance on the exam.
Drying umbrellas inside is standard, whistling inside is not.
My next stock pick: Cell phone jewelry. I haven't looked yet, but I am sure it is out there already. In a culture where cell phones are often worn around one’s neck, usually in decorative cell phone pouches, and women often wear necklaces with large pendants, combining the two can not be far off.
The church services are designed almost like a discussion (a long time ago, Roman Catholic was like this also, I now remember studying in my Florence Art History class). The priest sings or speaks and is answered by the parishioners and sometimes by one choir or another. At some masses people hold special flags with depictions of Mary, Jesus or other disciples. When the parishioners bow, the flags are angled, and they have bells at the top that ring at these times, as the audience replies; it is almost as if these characters are there; it is a neat effect. Also, at church, they make change during the collection. The collection basket has a flat wood top, and if you place a large bill there the person with the basket will pull bills from it and place them on the top so that you can take your desired amount of change. Then they sweep everything back inside. There are no benches so everyone is always standing or kneeling which makes it easy for the person taking the collection. And finally, there is lots of ceremony in the mass, more than even I like; the services are always two hours, and that usually doesn't even include communion, and remember the no benches part!
Long, dramatic speeches and toasts are the preference.
Down time in camps, even school and other planned activities, doesn't seem to be a big deal; certainly not something to worry about avoiding. Then again this could be because their power distance is greater than ours; which means authority figures are viewed more distantly; we tend to think of everyone on the same level, and therefore downtime often breeds chaos. Whereas here, a teacher can leave a class, mid sentence to attend to something in the hall (or further away) and the students sit patiently and obediently for the undetermined duration of her absence.
How much does a new apartment cost in a middle priced city (or town). What do you think is the minimum you could pay for an apartment? How much does a mobile home cost? And how much do you actually get for social security now. It isn't enough to live on, is it? And while I’m at it, does anyone know how much you get for unemployment, or for welfare? These are all questions people ask me, and I just don’t know.
Pickpocketing
I have something to tell you:
I was pickpocketed for the first time in my life the other day. It was awful, only because I didn't know what to do. I was pushed into a subway car, two friends were behind me, I had my wallet in my front pocket along with my cell phone, and my wallet was removed in the turmoil. It all happened so fast, that I didn't see it happen, but I knew immediately; I was a bit to frazzled to notice if their was surprise on anyone's face by my sudden realization. People get pickpocketed a lot here, but they don't usually notice until later. I even asked one gentleman to open his bag, which he did. Afterwards, I thought that probably wasn't a good idea, and the fact that he complied, made me wonder if indeed he had taken it. His arm seemed to come from around me, and I saw him put something in the bag that didnt' seem to be carrying anything at all, but I didn't think it was my wallet. I was so upset because I just didn't know what to do. I normally follow all the rules, but that day I was just a little more lax; I felt it happen, and I still couldn't stop it. I felt like a stupid Peace Corps Volunteer. I can't ride the subway now without a lot of suspicion.
However, by far the most miraculous part of the story is that the thief amazingly didn't grab my cellphone, although he did get some loose papers with notes on them. About 2 hours later, the Police from the next metro stop called me on my cellphone, the number for which they had gotten off my Ukrainian business cards in my wallet, and said they had my documents. I was amazed. I went down and got my wallet with everything in it. The thief had even stuck the notes into the wallet! I was so thrilled to just receive my OWN things. The only thing missing was money (I don't carry any credit cards for this reason), and although it was more than I usually carry because of the type of trip I was making (see the wedding entry), it was only about $40. Oh well, life goes on. I am so glad I didn't have to replace my official diplomatic documents or my wallet.
